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Learning Hebrew brought me closer to Judaism — and alienated me from Israel
(JTA) — Speaking to the media in the United States before and after his latest election as Israel’s prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu reassured American Jews and other supporters of Israel that their widely expressed fears of the undemocratic nature of the new Israeli governing coalition were overblown and would not in fact come to pass.
Netanyahu told the New York Times that he was still at least notionally committed to a peace deal with the Palestinians and told journalist Bari Weiss that policy would be determined by him, and not cabinet ministers like the self-described “proud homophobe” Bezalel Smotrich and convicted criminal Itamar Ben-Gvir, or the haredi Orthodox parties.
Then he returned to Israel, and promptly tweeted, “These are the basic lines of the national government headed by me: The Jewish people have an exclusive and indisputable right to all areas of the Land of Israel. The government will promote and develop settlement in all parts of the Land of Israel — in the Galilee, the Negev, the Golan, Judea and Samaria.” Netanyahu was asserting absolute Jewish sovereignty over the entirety of the West Bank, with no room for Palestinian statehood — as those politicians want and as his many American Jewish critics feared he would do.
That last tweet, despite reflecting the official position of Netanyahu’s newly inaugurated government, did not attract nearly as much attention in U.S. media as Netanyahu’s previous press tour. Because unlike Netanyahu’s fluent English-language interviews with numerous American press organizations, this tweet was in Hebrew — a language in which only 22% of American Jews possess an even minimal degree of fluency.
Like many non-Orthodox American Jews, I was once one of those other 78%. I was brought up attending a Reform synagogue, and I learned how to read enough Hebrew phonetically to have a bar mitzvah ceremony, reciting my Torah portion by rote memorization. I learned the aleph bet, and a few basic words here and there, but not much more. If I read Torah or Talmud at all, it was entirely in English translation.
But unlike many non-Orthodox American Jews, I became interested in learning Hebrew as an adult, as part of a broader interest in learning more about Jewish history, and I enrolled in courses starting in college to study Biblical, Mishnaic and modern Hebrew. Eventually, after years of study, I enrolled in a doctoral program in Jewish history at the University of Chicago, where I had to pass a rigorous Hebrew proficiency exam as a prerequisite to advance to doctoral candidacy status.
In many ways, this should have made me an ideal American Jew. After all, numerous commentators have opined on the need for more American Jews to learn Hebrew, to bring us closer to both Israeli Jewish culture and to Jewish history as a whole. As one Israeli educator stated, “Once you have Hebrew, all Israeli culture can be injected into your life.”
A wide array of American Jewish philanthropists and charities have identified funding Hebrew language education for American Jews as a priority. They should see someone like me — who went from knowing barely enough Hebrew to get through my bar mitzvah to now reading Haaretz each day in Hebrew — as a success story.
Except that this call for more American Jews to learn Hebrew often comes with an embedded political assumption: that if more American Jews learned to read and speak Hebrew, we would feel more closely linked to Israel and reverse the declining support for Israel among young American Jews.
There’s even a claim that American Jews do not have the right to criticize Israel without being able to follow Israeli political discussions in the original language. Daniel Gordis, of Shalem College in Jerusalem, complained that left-wing American Jewish journalist Peter Beinart should not be taken seriously as a commentator on Israeli affairs, as Beinart apparently “cannot read those [Hebrew] newspapers or Israeli literature until it is translated.”
The assumption is clear: If American Jews do not know Hebrew, we cannot be connected to the state of Israel, nor can we truly understand the Israeli politics we might wish to opine about. If we learned Hebrew, one Israeli-American advocate wrote, we would “be more united and support Israel in spectacular ways.”
Except that in my case, the exact opposite happened. As I learned more Hebrew, I saw how Israeli Jewish politicians often spoke in different terms in English and in Hebrew, tailoring their appeals for different audiences. Netanyahu’s recent sojourn to the United States is only one example. Take Ayelet Shaked, who sounded moderate notes to English-speaking audiences on a trip to Britain, while also telling Hebrew audiences that the “Jewish” character of Israel should supersede the notion of “equality.”
Of course, there’s nothing inherently wrong with code-switching. Politicians of all kinds do that. But the fact that some Israeli politicians think they have to sound more moderate in English than in Hebrew is telling. And when I opened myself up to what some Israeli politicians say in Hebrew, such as when Netanyahu falsely spread allegations of Arabs stealing votes in the last Israeli elections, something he did in Hebrew and not in English, or when new coalition partner Itamar Ben-Gvir put up a billboard reading, “May our enemies be gone” in Hebrew next to the pictures of three Israeli left-wing politicians, two Palestinian and one Jewish, it opened my eyes to a lot of aspects of Israeli politics that some American Jews would rather not hear.
So yes, it would be good for more American Jews to learn Hebrew. It would be a positive step for more American Jews to engage more heavily with Jewish culture and history. I certainly have no regrets about my time spent studying Hebrew.
But we should be honest about what the effects of that Hebrew language education would be. It might not be to simply make more American Jews “defend Israel” against its detractors. It might mean a more honest engagement with Israeli politics as they truly are, rather than how they are presented abroad to English-speaking audiences. And for some of us, that might even push us further away.
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The post Learning Hebrew brought me closer to Judaism — and alienated me from Israel appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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A war-weary Jerusalem marks Purim one day after the rest of the world, a tradition born in what is now Iran
(JTA) — JERUSALEM — As the sun rose over Jerusalem on Wednesday morning, sirens rang out, signaling yet another incoming missile attack from Iran.
This time, it coincided with the morning of Shushan Purim, as thousands of Israelis gathered — despite a prohibition on public gatherings — to read the Megillah and fulfill the mitzvah of hosting a reading after sunrise on the day of Purim.
Purim in Jerusalem, known as Shushan Purim, takes place a day later than in the rest of the world due to its status as a walled city during the time of the holiday’s story, when the Jews in Shushan, also a walled city located in what is now Susa, Iran, fought for their survival a day longer than Jews elsewhere in the kingdom.
Emergency regulations imposed by Home Front Command ban large gatherings, even in shelters, but Israelis have eschewed the restrictions to continue their celebrations. Top rabbis in Israel encouraged Israelis to follow government guidelines but opined that Zoom readings do not fulfill the requirement under Jewish law to hear the Megillah read in a prayer quorum. On Tuesday, Israelis across the country celebrated Purim in bomb shelters and underground parking garages, many of which are rated to withstand bombs dropped from above.
Just a few hours after the air raid alert ended on Wednesday, Jerusalemites could be seen wandering the streets, some intoxicated and others wearing costumes — or both — to celebrate the public holiday.
Two yeshiva students from New Jersey said, while waiting to catch a light rail train into the city, that they “were not worried at all about the missiles. We check our phones and go to the shelter.”
In the haredi neighborhood of Mea Shearim, life continued largely as normal. Children wandered the streets wearing costumes, and families walked into synagogues for Shacharit services, with prayers echoing through the streets.
In more secular neighborhoods, friends gathered to drink and celebrate the holiday, with some describing a “waiting game” to get their drinking in before another missile is launched and they have to head back to the shelter.
An ultra-Orthodox man celebrates in the streets of Mea Shearim, holding wine in one hand and showing a thumbs up with the other. The official commandment from the Torah is to drink until one cannot tell the difference between “cursed is Haman” and “blessed is Mordecai.”
Amber, Maya and Vicky kept their family shop open on Jaffa Street despite the threat of missiles. You Need Coffee has been open at its current location since 2011, and Maya described how “during the last war our business took a really big hit, and it’s something we expected this time, but the community keeps showing up.”
Vicky added, “They need their coffee, and we know our customers, so there’s a sense of we’re all in this together. Plus, we have a shelter in the basement, so it’s safer here than anywhere else.”
This is the second full-scale war with Iran in the last nine months, but all of the workers in the shop said they were willing yet again to deal with the consequences for the “freedom of the Iranian people.”
A family wearing matching costumes waits to catch the light rail into the Jerusalem city center. Public transportation in Israel is operating at limited capacity due to the war. The light rail had been closed since the war’s start but reopened on Wednesday.
A child who lives in Beit Yisrael, a haredi neighborhood in central Jerusalem, poses for a photo to show off his IDF soldier costume.
Children walk down the streets of Mea Shearim with their parents as they shop for goodies to celebrate the holiday. Pashkevils, or public announcements, cover the walls and communicate rabbinical rulings and other public information.
A Beit Yisrael family poses for a photo showing off their Purim costumes.
A man wearing a bunny costume walks in the streets of Mea Shearim, where not everyone was in costume for the holiday. Still, Yiddish techno music could be heard echoing off the brick walls of the neighborhood from the parties taking place there.
On Etz Hayim Street, just outside the Jerusalem shuk, a young Israeli poses to show off his costume — one half Israeli soldier, the other half sporting a suit.
One of the commandments for the Purim holiday is to give tzedakah, or charity to the poor — matanot la’evyonim — which requires giving to at least two people in need on the holiday. A young boy waits on the street, asking passersby for donations.
The post A war-weary Jerusalem marks Purim one day after the rest of the world, a tradition born in what is now Iran appeared first on The Forward.
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Faith heals the Deepest Wounds, Soothes the Greatest Woes
Across centuries, the Jewish people have experienced collective trauma, from the ancient exiles to modern-day tragedies. Despite these painful occurrences, Jewish tradition is a real treasure trove of healing through religious practices and teachings of the Torah. The Torah shows people how to process and move beyond suffering, and how the Bible can be a source of resilience and hope, even when all seems lost.
One of the greatest Jewish principles of practice is the practice of remembrance. The Torah calls the Jewish people to recall past suffering, not to dwell in sorrow, but in order to take the moment to derive lessons and strength from their adversity. This is reflected in such rituals as Passover, which celebrates the Exodus from Egypt and the liberation of the Jewish people from slavery. Likewise, Tisha B’Av is a day of remembrance for the destruction of the First and Second Temples. These rituals are not reminders of sorrow but tools necessary for transmitting the lessons of history to future generations. Through the practice of remembrance, Jewish communities are reminded time and again of the strength they have shown over the ages and the necessity to cultivate hope for the future.
Aside from the remembering process, the Torah also provides organized practices designed to assist an individual in coping with loss and suffering. The mourning practices, like Shiva, the seven-day mourning period, and Yahrzeit, the yearly observance of a loved one’s death, are a supportive mechanism whereby both the individual and society can cope with their loss. The practices are social in nature, reinforcing the idea that healing is as much an individual process as it is a social one. The social aspect of the practices creates solidarity and provides mutual support so that everyone mourns together.
Prayer and fasting are of profound significance in the Jewish healing environment. Yom Kippur and Tisha B’Av are such special days for soul-searching, repentance, and spiritual rebirth. On such days, the individual and collective seek forgiveness, atonement, and healing. These are spiritual exercises aimed at cleansing the soul and reconciling with God, an indication of the faith that, irrespective of the intensity of the agony, a path to spiritual healing always exists.
Community lies at the core of healing trauma within Jewish life. At the center of healing is the idea of Klal Yisrael—the Jewish peoplehood. In times of adversity, Jewish communities unite through acts of interdependence, prayer, and shared ritual. The communal care creates a basis of resilience, reminding individuals that they are not isolated in their suffering. In fact, the community’s strength can become a healing force, repairing the damage of trauma.
Chaya Lerner’s book, Torah of Trauma, explores the spiritual and psychological aspects of healing in the Torah. In her book, Chaya addresses how scriptural lessons can guide individuals and communities through healing from trauma and transforming it into what makes them stronger. Chaya utilizes ancient Jewish sources and modern therapy methods to explain that the Torah offers healing tools. Chaya’s work emphasizes that healing from trauma is not merely an understanding of the past but also the transformation of that understanding into a path forward. The book explores how Jewish heritage offers hope, healing, and a way to heal the spirit after suffering.
In an age where trauma manifests in so many different disguises, affecting so many individuals and communities, the Jewish approach to healing with the Torah is a sage one. Chaya Lerner’s Torah of Trauma is a guide for those willing to discover how scripture can heal emotional and spiritual hurts. By immersion in the Torah, remembering past struggles, and participating in communal rituals, the Jewish faith traces a path to resilience, hope, and spiritual rebirth. Through these sacred rituals, individuals and communities can transform their pain into power, emerging from trauma not just as a whole but more resilient than ever before.
Essentially, Jewish heritage teaches the realization that collective trauma does not characterize the people, but rather completes them. By accepting the teachings of the Torah, individuals and communities can heal, not only for themselves, but for society as a whole as well. The teachings given within the Torah are an eternal reminder of redemption, a reminder that there is always space for renewal and development, even in the darkest of sufferings.
The post Faith heals the Deepest Wounds, Soothes the Greatest Woes appeared first on The Forward.
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Poland returns 91 Jewish objects to Greece, decades after they were stolen by the Nazis
(JTA) — A trove of sacred Jewish objects from Greece that was stolen by the Nazis and displaced for decades in Poland is finally heading back home.
Poland returned 91 religious and ceremonial artifacts to the Greek government at a ceremony in Warsaw on Wednesday. Among them were Torah scrolls, a Torah mantle and silver finials that adorned a scroll’s wooden rollers — fragments of a rich Greek Jewish heritage that was nearly wiped out.
This marks the first time Poland has repatriated cultural property held under its care that was illegally taken from another country.
The Nazis stole the objects from synagogues in Thessaloniki, a port city once known as the “Jerusalem of the Balkans.” Jews made up half of Thessaloniki’s residents in 1919. Some 59,000 Greek Jews, over 83% of the country’s Jewish population, were killed in the Holocaust.
These items were seized by the Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg, a Nazi agency dedicated to looting Jewish valuables, as it plundered homes, synagogues, cemeteries and cultural institutions across Greece in 1941. The objects were transferred to Nazi depots in southwestern Poland and rediscovered at a castle in Bożków after the war. In 1951, the Polish Ministry of Culture moved them to the Jewish Historical Institute in Warsaw, where they remained until now.
This return follows years of advocacy and provenance research. The Greek government formally requested the collection’s restitution in 2024, and the World Jewish Restitution Organization coordinated with Greek and Polish authorities to facilitate it. Now, the objects are headed to the Jewish Museum of Greece in Athens.
About 5,000 Jews live in Greece today.
Poland is the only member of the European Union with no comprehensive legislation to address the restitution of property seized by the Nazis and later nationalized by the communist regime. Since the country became a democracy in 1989, several bills have been proposed to return private property to Holocaust survivors and their descendants, but none became law.
In 2021, Poland passed a law that prevented people who sought to claim property from challenging administrative decisions more than 30 years old. This time limit made it virtually impossible for former owners, including Holocaust survivors and their descendants, to recover properties that were appropriated during the communist era.
In a statement, WRJO president Gideon Taylor and COO Mark Weitzman said the return of the Greek Jewish collection represented a milestone in international cooperation for Holocaust-era restitution.
“While Poland has broader restitution issues to address, we hope this historic act marks the beginning of a consistent, systematic approach to historical justice,” they said.
The post Poland returns 91 Jewish objects to Greece, decades after they were stolen by the Nazis appeared first on The Forward.