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In fighting antisemitism, Jews can be our own worst enemies. We shouldn’t be.
(JTA) — Unless you have been living under a rock for the past few weeks, and even if you’re not Jewish, you can’t miss the fact that antisemitism is back in the news again: Kanye West, Kyrie Irving, Nick Fuentes; extremists returning in droves to Twitter; President Donald Trump kowtowing to antisemites over dinner at Mar-A-Lago; “Saturday Night Live” opening with a monologue trafficking in antisemitic tropes; members of the Black Hebrew Israelites intimidating Jewish fans coming to Barclays Center, and an endless feedback loop of antisemitism coursing across social media.
Coming at a time when antisemitic incidents already had reached the highest point in recent memory, this is the kind of mainstreaming of antisemitism that we haven’t seen since the 1930s.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned as CEO of the Anti-Defamation League, it is that when it comes to the Jewish people, hatred doesn’t discriminate. When Kanye says Jews control the music industry, he’s not talking about rich Jews or conservative Jews. He’s not singling those who may support Likud or those who back Meretz, two Israeli political parties. He’s not calling out Orthodox Jews versus Reform Jews. He’s talking about us all.
Same with the white supremacists who are circulating Great Replacement conspiracy theories about Jews conspiring to bring more people of color and immigrants into America to “replace” white people. They don’t care if you are a die-hard MAGA voter or a card-carrying member of Democratic Socialists of America. It doesn’t matter: If you’re Jewish, you are in their crosshairs.
Another unfortunate example is the Mapping Project, an insidious campaign that ostensibly accused pro-Israel Jews of conspiring together in Boston. However, it didn’t target only Zionist organizations. They targeted all Jewish organizations, from a nonprofit helping the disabled to a Jewish high school.
And yet, while our enemies see us as one, the Jewish community too often seems riven by discord and infighting.
We are divided around religious practices and beliefs. We are deeply riven by politics. We do not see eye to eye when it comes to the State of Israel, and at times we can’t even agree on the definition of antisemitism itself. At times, absurdly, some Jewish leaders seek to tear down other Jewish leaders even as it tears apart the community, as Steven Windmuller, a retired professor at Hebrew Union College in Los Angeles, recently documented.
I point this out not to diminish the value of debate and dissent — these are fundamental to our tradition. But we need to be mindful of when debate descends into division.
Indeed, when viewed by those on the outside, these internecine divisions within our community can lead to misunderstandings and confusion. Why can’t Jews agree on anything? At best, hostility makes us look petty, mean and foolish. At worst, it allows antisemites to see within us whatever it is that they hate the most.
Usually in the aftermath of antisemitic attacks such as we saw after the Tree of Life shooting or the hostage situation in Colleyville, Texas, Jews from across the political spectrum set aside our differences and come together in a show of unity. We lock arms, proclaim we are one, call on our policymakers to do more, put up our defensive shields and hope for the best.
But at a time when a celebrity with a cult-like following, Kanye West, or Ye as he now calls himself, is using his platform of 38 million-plus social media followers to spread hateful tropes about Jews — the kinds of unhinged and hateful canards, such as Jewish control and power, that have led to antisemitic attacks throughout history — I would argue that the locking-arms response, while effective in the moment, does not have the staying power that we could achieve if we had a more unified and close-knit Jewish community.
What does have staying power? In this uniquely fragile moment, we must choose to embrace our differences, or at least accept them and lean into Ahavat Yisrael, the love for our fellow Jews. We ferociously can disagree internally while standing completely united to external hate.
We are our brother’s keeper, and any Jew suffering from antisemitism is ultimately our responsibility. We must come together, despite our differences, and fight those who hate our people.
How can Jews stand together against antisemitism while respecting our ideological divides?
First, this isn’t a moment to try to win each other over. This is a moment to declare that every Jew matters and is worth protecting. We may disagree on many things, but we can appreciate that difference doesn’t have to equal division. We cannot allow the toxic partisanship that has seeped into so much of our society to poison our communal spaces. There are no “Tikkun Olam” Jews. There are no “Trump” Jews. There are only Jews, and we need to remember the dictum — you shall love your neighbor as yourself.
Second, we should recognize that self-defense starts with self-love and self-knowledge. Jewish literacy is essential to our long-term survival. Many like to remark how Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel prayed with his feet — but he did so in part because he wrapped tefillin with his hands. This is not to say that we all need to observe our faith in the same manner. There are plenty of Jewish people who opt out of ritual entirely, and yet their connection to our peoplehood is as strong and as valid as those who daven, or pray, every day. But shared values that emanate from Torah still bind us as a people — we need to redouble, not just our efforts to pass on these values to our children in ways that relate to the next generation, but we also must relearn these values ourselves.
Third, we must never allow our ideological blinders to gloss over or ignore antisemitism from those who are generally our political allies. We must be morally firm and call out antisemitism where we see it, and not just when it is convenient politically. We must be equally fierce in the political circles where we belong, where we ultimately have more influence and clout, as in simply calling out hatred by pointing to those on the other side.
During his lifetime, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson shared his wisdom about the fact that while every Jewish person is a unique individual, as a people we share a “basic commonality that joins us into a single collective entity.” The Lubavitcher Rebbe understood that this unity has sustained the Jewish people throughout history.
If we look to our ancestors, we can see examples of how holding together at times of strife has made our community stronger. It’s quite possible that we may be living in one of those difficult periods again. I hope we can meet the moment.
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The post In fighting antisemitism, Jews can be our own worst enemies. We shouldn’t be. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Fetterman Hosts AIPAC, Bondi Survivor in DC Office, Voices Support for ‘Jewish Community and Our Special Ally’
US Sen. John Fetterman (D-PA) gives an interview in his office in the Russell Senate Office Building in Washington, DC, Jan. 18, 2024. Photo: Rod Lamkey / CNP/Sipa USA for NY Post via Reuters Connect
US Sen. John Fetterman (D-PA) welcomed representatives from the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) and a survivor of the Bondi Beach massacre to his Washington, DC office on Tuesday, expressing support for the “global Jewish community” and the longstanding strategic partnership between the US and Israel.
“Proudly welcomed AIPAC and a survivor of the Bondi Beach massacre — a living reminder of the global scourge of antisemitism. My voice and vote will always stand with and support the global Jewish community and our special ally,” Fetterman posted on the social media platform X.
Proudly welcomed @AIPAC and a survivor of the Bondi Beach massacre—a living reminder of the global scourge of antisemitism.
My voice and vote will always stand with and support the global Jewish community and our special ally. pic.twitter.com/mz5damSvV9
— U.S. Senator John Fetterman (@SenFettermanPA) February 24, 2026
Fetterman, who has emerged as a prominent pro-Israel voice among Democrats on Capitol Hill, has signaled unwavering support for the Jewish state as its standing among liberal voters and progressive lawmakers has cratered.
The Pennsylvania lawmaker has repeatedly affirmed Israel’s right to defend itself from the Hamas terrorist group in Gaza and has defended the Jewish state from unsubstantiated claims of “genocide.” He also displayed the photos of the hostages captured by Hamas-led terrorists during their Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel in his office, drawing praise from pro-Israel Americans.
Despite his party’s increasing opposition to US military support for Israel, Fetterman has repeatedly vowed to vote in favor of such support for the Jewish state, rankling the progressive wing of the Democratic Party.
“I’m a really strong, unapologetic supporter of Israel and it’s really not going to change for me when [Donald] Trump becomes [president]. My vote and voice is going to follow Israel,” Fetterman said during an interview in December 2024.
One year later, Fetterman lamented the deadly attack on a Hanukkah celebration at Sydney’s Bondi Beach in December that killed 15 people who attended the Jewish gathering and wounded at least 40 others, expressing alarm about the global rise in antisemitism.
“After years of anti-Israel protests in Australia, at least 11 Jews were just gunned down at a Hanukkah event. Tree of Life to 10/07 to Bondi Beach: antisemitism is a rising and deadly global scourge. I stand and grieve with Israel and the Jewish global community,” he posted shortly after the shooting, using a figure based on an early death toll.
Though American lawmakers from both major political parties roundly condemned the Bondi Beach massacre, Fetterman’s decision this week to publicly meet with AIPAC, the premier pro-Israel lobbying group in the US, will likely raise eyebrows among his liberal supporters.
In the two years following the breakout of the Israel-Hamas war, AIPAC’s standing among the Democratic party has plummeted dramatically. In primary races across the country, Democratic hopefuls are being pressed on their connections to AIPAC and facing demands to pledge not to accept funding from the group, which seeks to foster bipartisan support for the US-Israel relationship. The emergence of AIPAC support as a kind of litmus test has raised concerns among Jewish Democrats that the party is becoming increasingly inhospitable to Jews and Zionists.
According to polls, Fetterman is unpopular among Democratic primary voters, making him vulnerable in a primary competition. Numerous progressives in the Keystone State have signaled they are gearing up to challenge Fetterman for the party nomination in 2028.
However, Fetterman maintains shockingly high approval ratings among Republicans and strong approval ratings among independents, potentially injecting a significant degree of uncertainty into the Pennsylvania Senate race if he were to run as an independent in the general election.
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Protesters at ‘Scream 7’ Premiere Call for Film’s Boycott After Former Lead Star Fired for Antisemitic Posts
(L-R) Actress Neve Campbell and director Kevin Williamson at the Paramount Pictures’ SCREAM 7 Los Angeles Premiere held at the Paramount Studios in Los Angeles, CA on Wednesday, Feb. 26, 2026. Photo: Sthanlee B. Mirador/Sipa USA via Reuters Connect
Protesters demonstrated outside the “Scream 7” premiere at Paramount Pictures Studios in Los Angeles on Wednesday night to call for the film’s boycott after its former lead star, Melissa Barrera, was fired in 2023 for posting antisemitic and anti-Israel messages on social media.
The protesters, who were supporters of groups including Entertainment Labor for Palestine and Musicians for Palestine, waved Palestinian flags and held signs that criticized Paramount as well as Israel.
“Paramount Whitewashes Genocide,” read one sign held by a demonstrator. Another sign read “Boycott Scream 7 Stand For Free Speech” while a separate one said “LAPD, KKK, IDF It’s All the Same,” referring to the Los Angeles Police Department, the Ku Klux Klan, and the Israel Defense Forces.
“Paramount has a BLACKLIST of actors who criticize Israel,” claimed another sign.
Barrera was set to star in “Scream 7” after leading the fifth and sixth installments of the franchise. In November 2023, however, Spyglass Media Group, which produces the “Scream” film franchise, fired Barrera from reprising her role in the seventh “Scream” movie after the Mexican actress posted on Instagram messages that described Israel as a “colonized” land, suggested the Jewish state controls the media, accused Israel of genocide and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians during the war with Hamas in Gaza, and criticized the United States for sending “billions of dollars to fund a genocide.” She also shared a post about distorting “the Holocaust to boost the Israeli arms industry.”
Spyglass Media Group said in a statement at the time that it had “zero tolerance for antisemitism or the incitement of hate in any form, including false references to genocide, ethnic cleansing, Holocaust distortion, or anything that flagrantly crosses the line into hate speech.”
Shortly after Barrera’s firing, Jenna Ortega dropped out of “Scream 7,” but her decision was due to a scheduling conflict, and director Christopher Landon also left the project. He made the announcement on X, writing in part, “It was a dream job that turned into a nightmare. And my heart did break for everyone involved. Everyone. But it’s time to move on.”
Kevin Williamson, who wrote the original 1996 “Scream” film directed by Wes Craven, returned to direct “Scream 7” with a script from Guy Busick. The film is set to open on Friday, and the cast includes Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox, Mason Gooding, Isabel May, Celeste O’Connor, Asa Germann, McKenna Grace, Sam Rechner, and Anna Camp.
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It’s time to talk about Purim’s unsettling message about conversion
Purim is meant to be loud: a holiday for drinking, dressing up, yelling and retelling a story of miraculous survival.
Which means it’s easy to miss a brief but significant verse near the end of the Book of Esther — one that deserves to be lingered over:
“And many of the people of the land professed to be Jews, for the fear of the Jews had fallen upon them.”
That line doesn’t lend itself to celebration. It does not describe people drawn to Judaism by teaching or conviction. Instead, it chronicles a far more troubling choice: people becoming Jews because they are afraid of Jews.
Whether the Book of Esther records events that literally occurred is beside the point. What matters is that Jews read this line aloud every year, carrying its language forward across generations. For a tradition that often insists Judaism does not seek converts and rejects religious coercion, this verse preserves an unsettling possibility: that joining the Jewish people can be driven by fear as much as conviction.
By the end of the narrative, Jews wield power, and the dread that once haunted them shifts outward.
Yes, some read the verse as referring to political alignment rather than religious change. Others treat Esther as satire, its excesses not meant for emulation. Still others point to the absence of God in the book, and dismiss the line as non-theological.
Even with those readings, the line still does something difficult. It places an unresolved moral question inside a festival we otherwise frame as joyful: How does holding power change the face of Judaism?
When conversion was possible — or required
The common claim that Judaism has always discouraged conversion is historically inaccurate. Jewish attitudes toward converts have shifted with political conditions, not because theology changed, but because power dynamics did.
The truth is that for much of Jewish history, conversion was dangerous. After the destruction of the Temple in 70 C.E. and the failure of later revolts against Rome, much of Jewish life developed under sustained imperial pressure. Welcoming people raised outside the community became, practically, risky.
This is why the familiar line “Judaism doesn’t seek converts” is more of a survival posture than an eternal principle. After all, the Hebrew Bible repeatedly reminds readers that Israel’s calling was never meant to be entirely inward. A “mixed multitude” leaves Egypt. Gerim, resident outsiders, are repeatedly considered in biblical law. Isaiah imagines God’s house as a house of prayer for all peoples.
In the late Hellenistic and early Roman periods, Jewish communities were widely visible across the diaspora. An inscription from Aphrodisias in Asia Minor in modern-day Turkey lists not only Jews but also “proselytes” and “God-fearers” among synagogue donors, suggesting gentiles were sometimes attached to synagogue life. Similar “God-fearer” inscriptions survive from other cities in Roman Asia Minor, where gentiles were known to attend synagogues, admire Jewish ethics, and sometimes decide to join the Jewish people.
Even polemical texts preserve traces of this world. Matthew 23:15 mocks those who “travel across sea and land” to make a proselyte — meaning to convert to Judaism. Whatever one makes of the polemic, the line treats the basic fact as unremarkable: that conversion to Judaism was a regular part of the religious landscape in the first-century Mediterranean.
Other ancient sources, including the first-century historian Josephus, describe moments when Jewish rulers used conversion as a tool of rule. One of the starkest examples comes from the Hasmoneans, the priestly family behind the Maccabean revolt who ruled Judea from roughly 140 to 37 B.C.E. Under John Hyrcanus, who reigned from 134 to 104 B.C.E., the kingdom of Judea expanded through conquest. Hyrcanus governed as many ancient rulers did, through coercion.
Among the territories absorbed was Idumea, homeland of the Edomites. According to Josephus, Hyrcanus offered the Idumeans a choice: adopt Jewish law or leave the land. They chose conversion.
This is not an obscure episode. It sits in the shadow of Hanukkah, one of Judaism’s most widely celebrated holidays.
Centuries later, Jewish sovereignty appeared again in the Himyarite kingdom of southern Arabia, where a ruling elite adopted Judaism in the fourth century CE. Eventually, persecution of non-Jews followed. The kingdom’s final ruler, Dhu Nuwas, who reigned from 522 to 530 C.E., oppressed local Christian populations, provoking retaliation from the neighboring Kingdom of Aksum. After more than a century, the Jewish kingdom fell.
Not a powerless minority faith
The reigns of Hyrcanus and Nuwas complicate the familiar story of Judaism as only a powerless minority faith, always deterring conversion. They suggest that Jewish sovereignty could carry the same temptations that haunt sovereignty everywhere, including the temptation to force compliance on those of different beliefs.
The Book of Esther verse about conversion offers a warning about that dynamic, and an imperative to learn from it. The lesson is not to condemn Judaism. It is to refuse a simplified story in which Judaism’s posture toward conversion has been static and untouched by the realities of power.
Across many faiths, when political power disappears, priorities often shift. Teachings turn inward. When power reappears, however briefly, older questions have a habit of returning. Who belongs? Who chooses? And under what conditions are those choices made?
Purim does not allow us to keep those questions at a safe distance. We are meant to hear this troubling verse amid the laughter and noise of our celebrations, not as an endorsement of coercion, but as a warning.
Esther’s story insists that two things can be true: Jews can be vulnerable, and Jews can hold power. And if we can be afraid, it warns, we can also inspire fear, with consequences not only for the societies in which we live, but also for the kind of Jewish life we make possible.
The post It’s time to talk about Purim’s unsettling message about conversion appeared first on The Forward.