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Netanyahu ally wants to stop Diaspora donors from funding pluralistic education in Israeli schools
(JTA) — In 2019, Israel’s Noam party drafted an internal report about an alleged plot by foreign forces to take control of the country’s schools in order to teach pluralistic values. At the time the party’s far-right leader, Avi Maoz, was a fringe politician with no authority to carry out the “cleansing” of which he dreamed.
Among the forces allegedly seeking to corrupt Israeli children, Maoz’s report named the European Union and the liberal New Israel Fund, both of which are longtime nemeses of the Israeli right.
But the plot to deny children what Noam considers a proper Jewish education doesn’t stop with the EU and NIF, according to the report. It also blamed many of the mainstream institutions of British and American Jewry, including the Reform movement’s Hebrew Union College, the Shalom Hartman Institute think tank, and U.S. donors to Israeli civil society organizations such as the Slifka and Mandel foundations.
“We must protect our people and our state from the infiltration of the alien bodies that arrive from foreign countries, foreign bodies, foreign foundations,” Maoz once said, according to Haaretz. “I would be very happy to have sufficient power to be appointed minister of education, to cleanse the entire education system of all foreign influences and to add Judaism, tradition, heritage and Zionism to the education system.”
Maoz hasn’t been appointed minister of education, but his dream of banishing these groups came a little closer to reality in December when Benjamin Netanyahu cut a deal with Maoz to form his government. In negotiations, Maoz had secured an appointment as a deputy minister in the Prime Minister’s Office under Netanyahu with control over extracurricular content in schools through a new department called the Jewish National Identity Authority. A few weeks later, Netanyahu’s cabinet took a critical step toward putting Maoz in charge.
Amid headlines about Maoz’s ascendance, someone leaked to the Israeli newspaper Yedioth Ahronoth the Noam party’s 2019 education memo along with other internal reports focused on perceived enemies in the Israeli military and Justice Ministry, and on LGBTQ individuals in general.
While the Israeli press referred to the reports as “blacklists,” the backlash to them has become subsumed in the general outcry over Israel’s new far-right government, including the anti-gay politics popular among many new members and the plan to strip Israel’s judicial branch of some of its powers.
Yet it’s in the area of education that the Noam party has the clearest path forward to accomplishing a specific political goal. And success for Noam could lead to a new type of rift between Israel and American Jews. The organizations he attacks are more than charities for Israeli school children — through their billions of dollars in donations, the institutions of American Jewry made themselves into partners in the very founding and development of the Jewish state.
In his new position, he would oversee funding and accreditation for external programs in Israeli schools. Each school can choose from thousands of approved programs, which range from sexual education and bar mitzvah preparation, to the types of pluralistic lesson plans — often meaning alternatives to the strictly religious or strictly secular options offered in Israeli schools — that Maoz has railed against.
For Yehuda Kurtzer, the president of the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America, whose Israeli branch was named in the Naom report, Maoz’s rhetoric betrays ignorance about the integral role of outside contributions in Israeli history.
“It’s not clear to me that these folks understand the depth of how Diaspora Jews have invested in the whole infrastructure of Israeli civil society since the founding of the State of Israel,” Kurtzer said. “So the portrayal of this as somehow Diaspora Jews are burrowing under the system — well, that is basically the whole story of how Zionism succeeded.”
Mark Charendoff, a longtime executive in Jewish philanthropy, also pushed back against Noam.
“There is a long and positive history of Diaspora Jewry’s involvement with education in Israel,” said Charendoff , who currently serves as the president of the Maimonides Fund, an increasingly influential New York-based charity. “The Israeli school system should certainly protect its integrity but even [the medieval sage] Maimonides found wisdom he could learn from among other cultures and used it to enrich our own.”
The Noam party memos, at least one of which Maoz has endorsed as a blueprint for his tenure, were obtained by Israeli journalist Nadav Eyal, and recently shared with the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. Here are the American Jewish charities named in the memo and which of their programs were targeted:
The Cleveland-based Mandel Foundation is singled out for the leadership training it offers education professionals. The report says Mandel has spent more than $58 million on this effort and is accused of harboring a liberal agenda. Mandel programs have included training for educators from across the denominational spectrum.
The Abraham Initiatives, which is based in the United States, the United Kingdom and Israel and promotes equal rights for Israel’s Jewish and Arab citizens, is described as a Jewish-Arab left-wing group. The report also singles out the programs, schools and teacher trainings aimed at supporting reconciliation and coexistence between Jews and Arabs.
The Shalom Hartman Institute, with offices in Jerusalem and New York City, earns a mention in the memo thanks to its Be’eri Program for Pluralistic Jewish-Israeli Identity, which is dedicated to enhancing Jewish and democratic values among secondary school educators and their students in Israel.
American Judaism’s Conservative movement is implicated through the Schechter Institutes which it sponsors and the affiliated Tali Education Fund. Dozens of schools throughout Israel receive curriculum materials related to pluralistic Jewish culture and heritage from Tali.
The U.S.-based Reform movement makes the list thanks to the training offered to Jewish education teachers as part of a program run jointly by the Reform-affiliated Hebrew Union College and Hebrew University.
The New York City-based Alan B. Slifka Foundation is named in the memo as a supporter of the Abraham Initiatives and the Shalom Hartman Institute.
The Russell Berrie Foundation, which is headquartered in Teaneck, New Jersey, is included because of its contributions to the New Israel Fund and the Shalom Hartman Institute.
With offices in Israel and Silicon Valley, Israel Venture Network makes the list over its support for an independent program that trains all administrators in the Israeli school system.
Headquartered in New York City, the New Israel Fund is described as one of the main organs in the alleged conspiracy. “The New Israel Fund and funds affiliated with it have set out to take control of the education system,” read the first line of the report.
The organizations are named as “examples” in the memo, suggesting that the list is not exhaustive. Guilt by association with any of these groups would implicate a wide swath of American Jewry. IVN, or Israel Venture Network, for example, receives funding from the Jewish federations of multiple American cities and the Weinberg Foundation. The Abraham Initiatives lists numerous mainstream Jewish donors including the Klarman Family Foundation and late Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg.
Kurtzer said the leaked memos didn’t come as much of a shock to him. Any organization that is “pro-democracy, pro-pluralism, and believes in strong relationships between Israel and the diaspora” is familiar with being targeted in this way, he said.
“Some of the elements of the far right have built a whole industry on classifying anybody who has commitments to any of these values and branding them as anti-democratic and anti-Jewish, anti-Zionist,” Kurtzer said. “It hasn’t really stopped our work in Israel, though, sometimes it makes it unpleasant and uncomfortable to have to fend off some of these accusations.”
One of the largest donors to Shalom Hartman Institute goes unmentioned in Noam’s report: the Claws Foundation, which has given the institute millions of dollars. It would be hard to condemn this particular foundation as a liberal interloper: Claws is run by Jeff Yass and Arthur Dantchik, a pair of American Wall Street billionaires and prominent libertarians who are reviled by the Israeli left. In 2021, Haaretz revealed that Yass and Dantchik are major donors to the Kohelet Policy Forum, an influential Israeli think tank behind many of the recent landmark initiatives of the right.
Maoz’s politics also fit awkwardly with those of his own political predecessors, said Eitan Cooper, executive vice president of the Schechter Institutes of Jewish Studies. Cooper helps run one of the programs targeted by Maoz, the Tali Education Fund, which provides a non-Orthodox Jewish curriculum to about 80 secular Israeli schools.
Cooper recalled how the Tali program got started in the 1980s with the help of Zevulun Hammer, who served as Israel’s education minister for many years while helping lead the National Religious Party. Noam is one of the offshoots to have emerged after the National Religious Party’s dissolution in 2008.
“Hammer was the one who adopted Tali as education minister,” Cooper said. “He thought it was great and in fact, he gave Tali its name.”
But Cooper also said that there had always been fringe members of Hammer’s circle who looked at Tali with skepticism because of its non-Orthodox orientation. Some even alleged that the program was run by covert Christian missionaries.
Prior experience has steeled Cooper for this moment, and he said he’s not particularly concerned that Maoz’s threats will pan out.
“This kind of negative response to what we do has always existed,” Cooper said. “The educational ministry continues on, it sets the criteria for the programs that are accepted. I really don’t know what he is positioned to do. He hasn’t done anything yet.”
He believes that the demand for Tali’s content ensures the program will carry on.
“Our target audience is still out there,” he said.
Nachum Blass, who chairs the education policy program at the Taub Center for Social Policy Studies in Israel, regards it as inevitable that Maoz will secure authority over external programs at schools. And Blass said that Maoz could proceed to cancel programs he didn’t like or block new programs.
“There are thousands of programs,” Blass said. “If Maoz wants to review every program and decide which to cancel, it’s a very long process, and he will face lawsuits and petition to the Supreme Court.”
But the bigger worry for Blass is the chilling effect of Maoz’s rhetoric.
“The real danger,” he said, “is that schools will censor themselves and not pick certain programs because they worry they doesn’t fit the spirit of the times.”
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The post Netanyahu ally wants to stop Diaspora donors from funding pluralistic education in Israeli schools appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Jewishness found me on my European vacation
To visit Europe is to look at many old, stone churches. My recent trip was no exception, but a few things set our tour of Geneva’s Cathédrale Saint-Pierre apart.
The most obvious difference between it and your typical Notre Dames and basilicas is aesthetic: Saint-Pierre is a Protestant church at the hub of John Calvin’s ministry in the Old Town. There’s no crucifix or stations of the cross and the stained glass eschews biblical scenes, a rebuke of Catholic extravagance. An exception is a small adjoining chapel.
Our Swiss guide gave us the name of this alcove, the burial place of Cardinal Jean de Brogny: Chapelle des Maccabées.
I assumed she was giving some French term for “tomb” that shared a root with “macabre.” I was wrong. The chapel, whose gorgeous, 15th-century stained glass depicts the Evangelists, the Last Supper and Jesus seeming to teach what may be the first-ever CCD class, is one of the few Christian structures to boast an explicitly Jewish name. (The Book of Maccabees, replete with martyrs, is part of the Catholic canon, not the Protestant.)
As for that ghoulish word “macabre,” linguists believe it to be a cognate with the name of the Hasmonean rebels, perhaps a reference to many of their grisly fates.
I should say now that when I am on vacation I don’t seek out Jewish landmarks. A lot of times there isn’t much to see: a street sign clinging to the name of a ghettoized population long-since liquidated, an old cathedral built on top of an even-older synagogue, a museum in a basement in Barcelona.
When I arrived in Paris before setting sail on a Rhone river cruise, my
fiancée, her family and I paid a visit to the Shoah Museum there. English-speaking Chabadniks tried to get me to wrap tefillin while I waited in line at L’as Du Fallafel, the kosher-certified institution in the Marais. Nearby we found a Hellenic-themed juice bar — Temple du Jus — which boasts an ancient sandstone wall with inscriptions in Greek and Hebrew (next to a chintzy, fake Ionic column).
France boasts the largest population of Jews in Europe, mostly now from North Africa. There are synagogues in Avignon and Lyon, but on this trip, the less obvious markers were the ones that kept asserting themselves. There was the Rue Léon-Blum in Arles, named for the three-time prime minister of France. Geneva has Rue Albert-Cohen, for the Corfu-born Swiss novelist.
Montreux in Switzerland has a resplendent statue of the resort town’s longtime resident Freddie Mercury, arguably the world’s most-famous Zoroastrian. But when we visited, the construction workers building the Christmas village behind the Queen frontman were listening to Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne.” (If you stop inside the shopping mall right near it, you’ll find Cohen’s name on the tiles, marking his 1976 performance at Montreux’s Jazz Festival.)
Our hotel breakfast had a version of chocolate babka, part of their “luxury collection,” with a posted explanation of the “sweet braided bread which originated in the Jewish communities of Poland and Ukraine.”
Our second evening in Geneva we went to a chalet-themed fondue restaurant called Edelweiss. There, a Swiss accordion player sang the establishment’s eponymous, invented folk song of Austria penned by a duo of Jewish Americans in English for The Sound of Music.
In the city hosting the UN’s base in Europe, and before that the League of Nations, such an international display was maybe unsurprising, but what struck me more is that it felt so natural.
For years now, watchdog groups have been fearing for the future of European Jewry amid increasing attacks and widespread pro-Palestinian protests. This assessment, rooted in valid concern, at times marches in lockstep with a far-right hostile to immigrants from the Muslim world. That alarm comes at times from the very same parties, and in the case of the National Assembly’s Marine Le Pen, the same family, that once leveled their xenophobia at Jews.
What I saw on my petit tour was a kind of cultural victory that will be harder to shake, even as French and British Jews continue to make aliyah in record numbers. It would perhaps shock those who lived through World War II that so much of the so-called national character, to which new arrivals are being labelled a threat, is now so casually Jewish. Emphasis on the “ish.”
For the most part, this Jewishness blends with the dominant culture, forming the soundtrack to builders putting up their Christmas market, giving the name to a Catholic tomb attached to a Protestant landmark or sitting on the buffet table a few stations away from cured ham. It is at times imported, at times native, like Serge Gainsbourg, or naturalized like Albert Cohen.
It’s not going anywhere, and if you’re paying even the slightest attention, it’s hard to miss.
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Christianity won in the midterm elections — but not Christian nationalism
The midterms saw the election of many new Jewish congressional representatives — Brad Lander in New York, Daniel Biss in Illinois, Scott Wiener in California, Zach Dembo in Kentucky. But another group was surprisingly well-represented in the Democratic wins: Christian pastors.
For decades, Christian clergy have usually been associated with the Republican party, thanks to evangelical groups like James Dobson’s Focus on the Family, Jerry Falwell’s Moral Majority and Pat Robertson’s Christian Coalition. They have rallied Evangelical support for politicians around culture war issues like opposing abortion rights and gay marriage, and white Evangelicals have been one of the defining voting blocs for Republicans ever since.
In 2024, fundamentalist evangelicals voted overwhelmingly for Trump, and they have been influential members of his cabinet and advisory team. Paula White-Cain, a charismatic Christian, is Trump’s personal faith adviser. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth is a member of an ultra-conservative denomination called the Communion of Reformed Evangelical Churches founded and led by Doug Wilson, a pastor who has said women should not have the right to vote and that slavery was good; Hegseth has instituted prayer services at the Pentagon, something once considered a violation of the separation of church and state, and he and his preferred preachers often promote Christian nationalism in the services.
But in the 2026 midterms, the pastors and seminarians who won their races were overwhelmingly Democrats. And they were not Evangelical — they were mainline Protestants.
This includes James Talarico, a seminarian currently enrolled in the Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, who defeated Ken Paxton for the Texas Senate seat; Adam Hamilton, a United Methodist minister who became the first Democrat elected to the Senate from Kansas since 1932; and Rev. Sarah Trone Garriott, who won her House race in Iowa.
The shift in American Christianity that these wins represent, of mainline Protestantism over fundamentalist evangelicalism, may sound esoteric — both groups are, technically, Protestant, after all. And it can get confusing; Garriott’s mainline Protestant denomination is called the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.
But the difference between the two Christian movements is essential to understanding the appetite for, and power of, Christian nationalism in the U.S., and represents Americans’ changing relationship to Jews and Israel.
What is mainline Protestantism?
The term mainline — or, sometimes, oldline — Protestant emerged in the early 20th century, during a debate between an emergent fundamentalist church movement and more modernist denominations. It referred to a historical group of churches that were influential in earlier American history, known as the Seven Sisters of American Protestantism.
But more colloquially, the term refers to a broader set of churches that share a theologically liberal style of scriptural interpretation, a focus on ecumenism — or acceptance and understanding among different Christian movements — and, usually, a progressive-leaning politics focused on social justice.
While mainline Protestants do not vote as a liberal bloc, the theology is less focused on culture war issues like abortion and LGBTQ+ rights; instead, they center the Social Gospel — a form of theology oriented toward loving thy neighbor and serving the poor. Most mainline churches allow women to be pastors and are accepting of LGBTQ+ members.
For much of American history, these churches were also the mainstream of American Christianity; they were the churches associated with WASPs and with wealthy, influential families like the Rockefellers. In 1970, mainline denominations accounted for 30% of Americans.
But in the 1970s, with the rise of major political evangelical organizations and leaders like Jerry Falwell, the balance of power shifted, and conservative, fundamentalist churches began to gain power. By 2024, only 14% of Americans identified as mainline Protestants according to the Pew Research Center; 23% identified as evangelical.
But judging by the midterms, mainline Protestant progressivism might be making a comeback.
Mainline Protestantism squares off against MAGA fundamentalism
The battle between fundamentalism and progressive mainline churches was not an undercurrent in many midterm campaigns; religion was an overt theme of attacks from the right on the Democrat pastors, and Republicans repeatedly cast doubt on the legitimacy of the Democrat’s Christianity.
In the race for Iowa’s second congressional district, Republican candidate Joe Mitchell jeered at the Christianity of the mainline Protestant ministers running for a variety of seats, including his opponent, Presbyterian minister Lindsay James, who ran as a Democrat.
“I call them PINOs,” Mitchell said at a conference; the term, he explained, means “pastors in name only.”
Republicans ripped Garriott, also a pastor, as “the wicked witch of Woke” and denounced her preaching as “fake.” Zachary Nunn, who lost to Garriott, took a similar tone in lambasting his opponent.
“I don’t need a lecture from someone who pretends to preach from the pulpit,” the Republican said in May during a Des Moines campaign rally with Republican Vice President JD Vance.
Talarico — who is not ordained but is a current seminary student, and who centered Christianity in his campaign — was meanwhile castigated by evangelical Republicans for statements they called un-Christian, such as saying God is “nonbinary.”
His rival, Paxton, castigated his theology, saying Talarico’s beliefs are “literally the opposite of Christianity,” while Texas’ Lieutenant Governor, Dan Patrick, said he has “never seen anyone commit so much blasphemy against the word of God and the Bible” and that the now-senator-elect was “going to Hell.”
At a service in a CREC church — Hegseth’s ultra-conservative denomination — a night was devoted to preachers inveighing against Hamilton’s Christian bonafides. Pastors called on the Democratic candidate in Kansas, a preacher at a large United Methodist congregation, to “repent” for his teachings, including that non-Christians aren’t going to hell. Vance accused him of wearing Christianity as “a skin suit.”
The Democratic pastors’ voting records, such as James’ support for gender-affirming care for minors or Talarico’s support for abortion access, were also framed as damning evidence of fake Christianity by Republican evangelicals.
Meanwhile, the ordained Christian Democratic candidates were open about their hope to reclaim Christianity from Republicans. Talarico made similar accusations to his critics, saying that “Christians in the halls of power are blatantly violating the teachings of Christianity on a daily basis and hurting our neighbors in the process.”
Garriott even stated that the representation of Christianity in Republican politics upset her so much that it motivated her to run for office to offer a different Christianity. “Faith has something to say to politics. And what we are seeing labeled as the faith perspective is not faithful to me,” she said in an interview with Religion News Service earlier in her campaign.
A Christian repudiation of Christian nationalism
Numerous members of Trump’s administration are outspoken Christian nationalists. Hegseth has a Crusades tattoo, and his preacher, Doug Wilson of the CREC, opposes the right of non-Christian Americans to hold office. Numerous architects of Project 2025, which advocated for a government imbued with “biblical principles” are members of the administration. JD Vance has stated that “Christianity is America’s creed.”
For religious minorities in the U.S., however, the mainstreaming of open Christian nationalism has been worrying; the Christianity pushed by these Christian nationalist figures has roots in antisemitism and Islamophobia, and imposing a version of religion that does not allow for diverse beliefs feels dangerous.
For many of these conservative Christians, supporting Christian nationalism is synonymous with being a devout Christian; they equate biblical values with morality, and advocating for a moral country is simple obedience to their beliefs. Not all Christians believe this is part of their religion, however; the mainline Protestants who just swept the midterms preach a Christianity that is overtly opposed to Christian nationalism.
Garriott has preached about the topic directly, saying that “evangelicalism, from a Christian nationalist perspective, is trying to make the nation, the government, and everyone the same.” She argued that her faith requires a diverse republic founded on ecumenism.
Talarico has similarly argued directly against Christian nationalism: “I believe the separation of church and state is sacred. I think a nation with one supreme religion is not just un-American, I also think it’s un-Christian, given how Jesus taught about religious supremacy,” he told Ezra Klein of The New York Times. “I have a special moral responsibility to combat Christian nationalism wherever I see it.”
This repudiation of Christian nationalism from within the majority religion of the U.S. is an essential defense for the minority religions of the U.S. And it comes from the ecumenism at the heart of mainline Protestantism. Though ecumenism historically focused on Christian unity, and acceptance of other denominations of Christianity, the theological bent toward nonjudgment — instead of conservative evangelicalism’s fire and brimstone — opens doors toward interfaith dialogue. Mainline Protestants are capable of antisemitism, of course, but the less literal theological interpretation that defines the movement helps keep minds open.
There is one detail of mainline Protestantism that may concern some Jews, however. Evangelicals have long been a source of stalwart support for Israel, thanks to the conservative movement’s eschatology, which focuses on the End Times when, it teaches, Jews must all return to the Holy Land in order for Jesus to return. In the past several decades, evangelicals who subscribe to this apocalyptic theology, including the current ambassador to Israel, Mike Huckabee, Christians United for Israel founder John Hagee and Texas senator Ted Cruz, have referenced their Christianity as grounds for supporting Israel unconditionally.
Mainline Protestantism has its roots in churches founded before this form of dispensationalism was popularized, and they are therefore less attached — at least theologically — to the state of Israel. And though most of the Democratic ministers are moderate on Israel, that’s far from the hawkish pro-Israel template for religious politicians that has previously been defined by evangelicals.
Still, in 2024, Americans voted for an evangelical, conservative, Christian nationalist government. That made for a government full of people defending their right to say that Jews killed Jesus, to post the Ten Commandments in schools, to make Christian prayer a part of military service. And in the midterms, the vision of Christianity the Republican party promoted couldn’t even accept other Christians, much less minority religions.
But that’s not what Christianity has to be. In 2026, Americans voted for a different Christianity: one that is tolerant of other religions, values and viewpoints. That can only be good for the Jews.
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Video: The queen of Yiddish cabaret
אַן אינטערוויו מיט דער אָנגעזעענער ייִדישער זינגערין, אַקטריסע און שרײַבערין עלענאָר ריסאַ איז לעצטנס אַרויפֿגעשטעלט געוואָרן אויף יוטוב.
אינעם שמועס געפֿירט פֿון אלי בענעדיקט פֿון דער ייִדיש־ליגע, דערציילט ריסאַ וועגן אירע ערשטע טריט אויף דער בינע, די מענטשן און פֿאָרשטעלונגען וואָס האָבן אויסגעבויט איר קינסטלערישן וועג, אירע אויפֿטריטן איבער דער וועלט, און דעם אופֿן ווי זי בויט אַ מוזיקאַלישע פּראָגראַם און קלײַבט אויס לידער. זי רעדט אויך וועגן איר בליק אויף דער צוקונפֿט פֿון ייִדיש־טעאַטער.
ריסאַ איז אַ געבוירענע ייִדיש־רעדערין פֿון פּויליש־ייִדיש, קאָן דער ווידעאָ אויך דינען ווי אַ גוטער לערן־מיטל פֿאַר ייִדיש־סטודענטן וואָס ווילן הערן אַ נאַטירלעכן ייִדיש.
עלענאָר ריסאַ איז אַן אַמעריקאַנער אַקטריסע, רעזשיסאָרין, דראַמאַטורגין און זינגערין, און ייִדיש איז איר מאַמע־לשון. זי איז אויפֿגעוואַקסן אין ברוקלין, די טאָכטער פֿון צוויי לעבן־געבליבענע פֿון פּוילן. אין משך פֿון לאַנגע יאָרן האָט זי געשפּילט, רעזשיסירט און געשאַפֿן סײַ אין ענגלישן, סײַ אין ייִדישן טעאַטער, און איז געווען די קינסטלערישע מיטדירעקטאָרין פֿון דער פֿאָלקסבינע.
זי האָט אויך געשריבן, רעזשיסירט און איבערגעזעצט אַ ריי פּיעסעס און מוזיקאַלישע פּראָגראַמען. אין די לעצטע יאָרן פֿירט זי דעם פּאָדקאַסט “Those Who Were There” בײַם פֿאָרטונאָף־אַרכיוו אין יעיל־אוניווערסיטעט און אַרויסגעגעבן אַ בוך זכרונות, The Letters Project.
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