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Judaism doesn’t want you to wander and live just anywhere — or does it?
(JTA) — I was a remote worker long before the pandemic made it a thing, but it was only last month that I really took advantage of it. Early on the morning of New Year’s Day, I boarded a plane from Connecticut bound for Mexico, where I spent a full month sleeping in thatch-roofed palapas, eating more tacos than was probably wise and bathing every day in the Pacific. I’ll spare you the glorious details, but suffice it to say, it wasn’t a bad way to spend a January.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, I found myself again and again coming into contact with expats who had traded in their urban lives in northern climes for a more laid-back life in the tropics. There was the recently divorced motorcycle enthusiast slowly wending his way southward by bike as he continued to work a design job for a major American bank. There was the yoga instructor born not far from where I live in Massachusetts who owned an open-air rooftop studio just steps from the waves. There were the countless couples who had chosen to spend their days running beachfront bars or small hotels on the sand. And then there were the seemingly endless number and variety of middle-aged northerners rebooting their lives in perpetual sunshine.
Such people have long mystified me. It’s not hard to understand the lure of beachside living, and part of me envies the freedom to design your own life from the ground up. But there’s also something scary about it. Arriving in middle age in a country where you know nobody, whose language is not your own, whose laws and cultural mores, seasons and flora, are all unfamiliar — it feels like the essence of shallow-rootedness, like a life devoid of all the things that give one (or at least me) a sense of comfort and security and place. The thought of exercising the right to live literally anywhere and any way I choose opens up a space so vast and limitless it provokes an almost vertiginous fear of disconnection and a life adrift.
Clearly, this feeling isn’t universally shared. And the fact that I have it probably owes a lot to my upbringing. I grew up in an Orthodox family, which by necessity meant life was lived in a fairly small bubble. Our house was within walking distance of our synagogue, as it had to be since walking was the only way to get there on Shabbat and holidays. I attended a small Jewish day school, where virtually all of my friends came from families with similar religious commitments. Keeping kosher and the other constraints of a religious life had a similarly narrowing effect on the horizons of my world and thus my sense of life’s possibilities. Or at least that’s how it often felt.
What must it be like — pardon the non-kosher expression — to feel as if the world is your oyster? That you could live anywhere, love anyone, eat anything and make your life whatever you want it to be? Thrilling, yes — but also frightening. The sense of boundless possibility I could feel emanating from those sun-baked Mexicans-by-choice was seductive, but tempered by aversion to a life so unmoored.
The tension between freedom and obligation is baked into Jewish life. The twin poles of our national narrative are the Exodus from Egypt and the revelation at Sinai, each commemorated by festivals separated by exactly seven weeks in the calendar, starting with Passover. The conventional understanding is that this juxtaposition isn’t accidental. God didn’t liberate the Israelites from slavery so they could live free of encumbrances on the Mayan Riviera. Freedom had a purpose, expressed in the giving of the Torah at Sinai, with all its attendant rules and restrictions and obligations. Freedom is a central value of Jewish life — Jews are commanded to remember the Exodus every day. But Jewish freedom doesn’t mean the right to live however you want.
Except it might mean the right to live any place you want. In the 25th chapter of Leviticus, God gives the Israelites the commandment of the Jubilee year, known as yovel in Hebrew. Observed every 50 years in biblical times, the Jubilee has many similarities to the shmita (sabbatical) year, but with some additional rituals. The text instructs: “And you shall hallow the 50th year. You shall proclaim liberty throughout the land for all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you: each of you shall return to your holding and each of you shall return to your family.”
Among the requirements of the Jubilee was that ancestral lands be returned to their original owners. Yet the word for liberty is a curious one: “d’ror.” The Talmud explains its etymology this way: “It is like a man who dwells [medayer] in any dwelling and moves merchandise around the entire country” (Rosh Hashanah 9b).
The liberty of the Jubilee year could thus be said to have two contrary meanings — individuals had the right to return to their ancestral lands, but they were also free not to. They could live in any dwelling they chose. The sense of liberty connoted by the biblical text is a specifically residential one: the freedom to live where one chooses. Which pretty well describes the world we live in today. Jewish ancestral lands are freely available to any Jew who wants to live there. And roughly half the Jews of the world choose not to.
Clearly, I’m among them. And while I technically could live anywhere, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to. I like where I live — not because of any particular qualities of this place, though I do love its seasons and its smells and its proximity to the people I care about and the few weeks every fall when the trees become a riotous kaleidoscope. But mostly because it’s mine.
A version of this essay appeared in My Jewish Learning’s Recharge Shabbat newsletter. Subscribe here.
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The post Judaism doesn’t want you to wander and live just anywhere — or does it? appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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In ‘The Secret Agent,’ a peek into Brazilian Jewish history — and a warning against propaganda
When we first meet Marcelo in the fiction film The Secret Agent, the only thing that’s clear is that he’s on the run — we’re not sure that Marcelo is his real name, who he’s on the run from, or why. As the story, set in 1977 Brazil, unravels, we learn government officials and hired killers are working together to take Marcelo down and strip him of any credibility he had in his pre-fugitive life — even if that means manipulating the press.
But the film also spends time on the characters Marcelo meets while hiding among others being persecuted by the military dictatorship in the city of Recife, illustrating the diversity of the people affected by the fascist regime.
One of those characters is a man many assume is an escaped Nazi; in fact, however, he is a Holocaust survivor.
The audience’s introduction to the survivor, Hans, played by German actor Udo Kier in his final film role before his death, is not a pleasant one. A corrupt police chief named Euclides brings Marcelo to Hans’ tailor shop, insisting there is something interesting he must see there. Euclides then forces Hans to lift his shirt and show his scars — something Euclides clearly regularly has the man to do as we can see by Hans’ immediate sour reaction to the chief.
Euclides believes the intense, sprawling scar tissue tells a glorious military story of a Nazi who evaded capture.
“He’s just fascinated with, I don’t know, maybe Nazi Germany, with the German soldier, or the idea of the German soldier,” explained director Kleber Mendonça Filho in a video interview. “And he seems to have a one track mind in terms of thinking that Hans, because he’s German, must have been a heroic soldier in the German army in the Second World War, which explains why he’s still alive.”
But, as the audience learns through a conversation Hans has with an employee in German — and a shot of the menorah he has tucked away in his office — he is actually a Jewish Holocaust survivor. His wounds are a testament to surviving violent antisemitism, not markers of fighting for militaristic ideals the police chief believes they share.
“Identity can be on your body,” Filho said. “In the scars that you have, in the tattoos that you have, in the way that you have collected physical experience throughout life.”
Like many of the elements in the film, the character of Hans was inspired by Filho’s own memories of growing up in Recife during the Brazilian military dictatorship, known for its violent suppression of media and political dissidents, that ruled the country from 1964-1985. Even though Filho was only 9 years old at the time the film is set, he remembers a lot from that time in his life, including an old Romanian tailor his father visited in the downtown area that they recreated in the film.
Filho combined this character from his life with the experience of growing up in an area with a strong Jewish presence. Recife was the site of Brazil’s first organized Jewish community, which consisted of Dutch Jews, who arrived with other Dutch colonialists, and Sephardic Jews escaping the Portuguese and Spanish Inquisitions. Between 1636 and 1640, these Jews built the first synagogue in the Americas, Kahal Zur Israel, which was turned into a museum in 2001.
In 1654, the Portuguese expelled Dutch Colonists and Jews from Brazil, but another wave of Jewish immigration from Eastern Europe in the 1910s revitalized Recife’s Jewish population. Even though Filho isn’t Jewish, he had a lot of Jewish friends throughout his life, even styling the marine biologist in the film off of one of them.
Although The Secret Agent takes place in 1977, Filho saw events similar to those he wrote into the film play out around him under the presidency of Jair Messias Bolsonaro, which lasted from 2019 to 2023.
Filho said that “a lot of the logic of what was happening under the Bolsonaro regime seemed to mimic” the military regime of the 20th century “in a fetishistic way.”
“Words like torture were now being thrown around,” he said, “misogynistic treatment of women in words that would be questionable in 1977 and completely alien and unacceptable today.”
Filho said the country also experienced a renewed period of racism and xenophobia under Bolsonaro, encouraged by the policies of the government. And those were sometimes overtly inspired by admiration for Nazi Germany; then-Special Secretary Roberto Alvim was removed from his post after just a few months for plagiarizing a speech from Nazi Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels.
Today, in the United States, many are worried that Nazis are being reimagined as the good guys, as Holocaust deniers like Nick Fuentes are given increased attention by news pundits and the Trump administration normalizes relations with the far-right groups.
Much of the plot of The Secret Agent concerns the rewriting of history through propaganda and media censorship. And the intimate and abusive interaction between the police chief and Hans feels like a particularly salient demonstration of how easily facts can be written over to fit the world someone might want to see.
The post In ‘The Secret Agent,’ a peek into Brazilian Jewish history — and a warning against propaganda appeared first on The Forward.
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Hamas’s Grip on Gaza NGOs Exposed as World Plans Post-War Rebuilding Efforts
Palestinians gather to collect aid supplies from trucks that entered Gaza, amid a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas, in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, Oct. 11, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Ramadan Abed
As world powers outline multi-billion-dollar plans to rebuild Gaza, newly obtained documents reveal that Hamas has long run a coordinated effort to penetrate and influence NGOs in the war-torn enclave — contradicting years of denials from major humanitarian organizations.
On Wednesday, NGO Monitor — an independent Jerusalem-based research institute that tracks anti-Israel bias among nongovernmental organizations — released a new study revealing how Hamas has for years systematically weaponized humanitarian aid in Gaza, tightening its grip over foreign NGOs operating in the territory and exposing patterns of complicity and collaboration that contradict the groups’ persistent denials.
While international media has repeatedly accused Israel of unfairly and illegally targeting humanitarian NGOs, Israeli officials have long argued that many of these groups have been infiltrated and manipulated by Hamas, the Palestinian terrorist group that has ruled Gaza for nearly two decades — with the extent of NGO involvement far deeper than their public statements suggest.
Dozens of internal Hamas documents are now being published, providing systematic evidence and even detailing the officials tasked with coordinating and overseeing the Islamist group’s interactions with international NGOs.
According to the documents, Hamas officials designated specific points of contact with “highly respected” international NGOs, including Doctors Without Borders, Oxfam, Save the Children, and the Norwegian Refugee Council.
Referred to as “guarantors,” these Hamas-approved senior officials at each NGO allowed the terrorist group to closely oversee activities, influence decision-making, and circumvent restrictions imposed by some Western governments on direct engagement with Hamas.
Gerald Steinberg, founder and president of NGO Monitor, said the newly released study offers a crucial guide for the US and its allies to vet aid partners, emphasizing the need to carefully screen NGOs to prevent a repeat of Hamas’s domination of Gaza’s reconstruction efforts.
“This research is timely and highly consequential,” Steinberg said in a statement. “Governments and international organizations are planning to provide billions of dollars for the rebuilding of Gaza, and will partner with numerous NGOs to reconstruct infrastructure, provide municipal services like utilities and education, and probably distribute cash payments.”
“We now know which NGOs and their local affiliates have been propping up the Hamas terror regime,” he continued.
The study also found that at least 10 “guarantors” — senior NGO officials — were not just Hamas-approved, but were also members, supporters, or employees of Hamas-affiliated authorities, who leveraged their positions in numerous NGOs to create Hamas-approved beneficiary lists for UN and other aid programs.
According to one of the obtained internal documents, Hamas conducted extensive surveillance of NGO officials in Gaza, noting that the “guarantors” across 48 NGOs “can be exploited for security purposes” to infiltrate foreign organizations and listing the names and personal details of 55 individuals already serving in those roles.
The document also explicitly outlines the terrorist organization’s intent to further develop or compel “guarantors” to serve as intelligence assets.
The findings appear to corroborate the concerns of many experts and Israeli officials, who have long said that Hamas steals much of the aid flowing into Gaza to fuel its terrorist operations and sells the remainder to Gaza’s civilian population at an increased price. Jerusalem has also said that aid distribution cannot be left to international organizations, which it accuses of allowing Hamas to seize supplies intended for the civilian population. According to UN data, the vast majority of humanitarian aid entering Gaza during the Israel-Hamas war was intercepted before reaching its intended civilian recipients.
With NGOs in Gaza — both local and international — required to secure Hamas’s approval to provide services and run projects, the report shows the group wields veto power over humanitarian operations, allowing it to control, manipulate, and exploit aid to advance its political and military objectives.
“NGO Monitor’s groundbreaking report proves that Hamas controls all humanitarian operations in Gaza, on an institutional level and an individual one,” Naftali Shavelson, NGO Monitor international spokesperson, said in a statement.
“There is no NGO freedom of operation in Gaza. And most crucially, never once did NGOs say anything about this Hamas infiltration,” he continued. “If anything, they issued statements blaming their inhibited operations on Israel – thus ignoring the problem and allowing Hamas to continue harming Gazans.”
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NYC principal turns down Holocaust survivor’s talk over his ‘messages around Israel and Palestine’
(JTA) — A New York City public school principal turned down a parent’s request to host a talk by Holocaust survivor Sami Steigmann, citing content in his presentation that related to “Israel and Palestine.”
In an email to the parent on Nov. 18, the principal of the Brooklyn middle school MS 447, Arin Rusch, said that she believed that hosting Steigman’s presentation was not “right” for the school.
“In looking at his website material, I also don’t think that Sami’s presentation is right for our public school setting, given his messages around Israel and Palestine,” Rusch wrote in an email obtained by the New York Post.
Rusch added that she would “love to explore other speakers” who could talk about the Holocaust and antisemitism. The Post did not name the parent.
Steigmann, 85, speaks frequently about his experiences as a child survivor of the Mogilev-Podolski labor camp from 1941 to 1944, according to his website. During the Holocaust, he was also subjected to Nazi medical experiments and starvation, though he says he does not remember the experiences. His website describes him as a motivational speaker “who lives to tell his story.”
While it was unclear what part of Steigmann’s website Rusch allegedly took issue with, Steigmann’s PowerPoint presentation, which is found on his site, features an Israeli flag as the backdrop of a number of slides.
There is also a slide labeled “Zionism,” which includes various assertions about the founding of Israel, including a definition that Zionism is the “Right of the Jewish people to feel safe and secure in their homeland” and a bullet point calling Zionism a “social justice movement for the Jewish people.”
In a video shared on Facebook by StandWithUs, a nonprofit that trains students in pro-Israel advocacy, Steigmann is seen urging the students to intern with the organization.
On Steigmann’s Instagram page he has also frequently reposted commentary on Israel and antisemitism, including one post from July where he wrote that “Palestine was Jewish before it became Israel.”
Steigmann told The Post that he believed it was wrong for Rusch to deny his presentation, adding that he doesn’t discuss Middle East politics in public schools and would have accommodated a request for him to avoid the subject.
“She didn’t even have the courtesy to call me,” Steigmann told The Post.
The rejection drew condemnation from The Blue Card, a nonprofit that supports Holocaust survivors and with which Steigmann is affiliated.
“It is outrageous that a Holocaust survivor was denied the chance to speak to students,” said Masha Pearl, the executive director of The Blue Note, in a statement. “His testimony as a child survivor of a Nazi labor camp is not political. It is history. Silencing him at a moment of rising antisemitism is dangerous and deeply wrong, and makes New York City less tolerant.”
Pearl also called on Rusch to meet with The Blue Note to discuss Holocaust education as well as on New York City Public Schools Chancellor Melissa Aviles-Ramos to “condemn this act and open an investigation.”
In a statement to the Post, the New York City Department of Education said that it evaluates every speaker to ensure they “maintain political neutrality.”
“We do not shy away from teaching history in our classrooms, and we are proud to have welcomed many Holocaust survivors into our schools, including MS 447, to share their stories. We thoroughly evaluate every classroom speaker and are careful to ensure speakers maintain political neutrality, especially on contentious current events, as required in a public school setting,” Department of Education spokeswoman Nicole Brownstein told The Post.
JTA sought comment from the NYC Department of Education, Mayor Eric Adams’s office and the principal, but did not receive responses.
Moshe Spern, the president of the United Jewish Teachers, an advocacy group. also criticized the rejection in an email on Nov. 26 to Brooklyn District 15 Superintendent Rafael Alvarez and aides for Aviles-Ramos.
“Although [Rusch] mentions that [she] would be open to other speakers, this begs the question of are we now censoring Holocaust survivors for their views on Israel,” wrote Spern. “This action by Principal Rusch is extremely inappropriate and I expect this situation to be remedied immediately.”
New York City Mayor Eric Adam’s office also told The Post that while he was committed to ensuring students hear from Holocaust survivors, Steigmann “wasn’t the right fit.”
“Mayor Adams is dedicated to ensuring all New Yorkers — particularly our students and young adults — hear stories from the genocide and oppression of the Holocaust, so we never again perpetrate such evil,” a City Hall spokesman told The Post. “While this speaker wasn’t the right fit, we will continue to ensure our students hear from the living survivors of this history into the future.”
The post NYC principal turns down Holocaust survivor’s talk over his ‘messages around Israel and Palestine’ appeared first on The Forward.