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On the streets of Tel Aviv, protesters on cusp of a big victory vow to keep fighting
TEL AVIV (JTA) — Yaniv, a resident of Tel Aviv, has lost count of how many protests he’s been to during the past three months. But on Monday afternoon, he headed once again to Kaplan Street, the urban artery that has become ground zero of the anti-government demonstrations, to demonstrate once again.
Israel’s current rupture, said Yaniv, 34, is the “biggest crisis in my lifetime.”
“We’ll keep going until something changes,” he said. “They left us no choice. The damage has been done.”
Week after week, Yaniv and tens of thousands of other Israelis have filled the streets of Tel Aviv to protest Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s proposed overhaul of the country’s judiciary — which would sap the Supreme Court of much of its power and influence. Then, on Sunday night, massive protests again took shape to oppose Netanyahu’s firing of his defense minister, who called for a pause on the legislation.
Now, the following day, the protesters came with a different feeling: that their activism might actually succeed, at least in the short term. After people gathered in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and elsewhere, Netanyahu announced that he would pause the legislation to allow time for dialogue. Several of his ministers had already called for him to do just that.
Justin Jacobs, a recent immigrant to Israel from the United States, said he is hopeful about the outcome of the protest movement. (Deborah Danan)
But even as the campaign to stall the legislation was poised to achieve an at least temporary victory, protesters were not in a celebratory mood. They vowed to continue demonstrating against what some described as Netanyahu’s broader authoritarian impulses.
“You see how the liberal voice that has been missing for so long is returning to the street and has become the mainstream,” said Ben Luria, a resident of Jaffa protesting in Tel Aviv. “It looks like they’ve succeeded in passing the message across.”
But for Luria, that success doesn’t translate into any desire to ease the pressure. “You can’t deny that this is no longer just a question of Bibi being Bibi, this is a dictator in the making,” he added, using Netanyahu’s nickname. “We need to put the line somewhere.”
Even as Israelis were glued to their TV screens, waiting to hear Netanyahu announce a suspension of the legislation, Daria, who immigrated to Israel with her family from what is now Russia, did not pin her hopes on Netanyahu changing course.
“I don’t think that even if they stop this legislation, they will stop anything else,” said Daria, who came to the protest with Yaniv and, like him, declined to give her last name. “Even if they say they’ll postpone until Pesach or for forever, that doesn’t mean that we stop protesting what this government is doing.”
Sunday night’s protests were followed by a countrywide general strike. Blocked streets and canceled bus routes in downtown Tel Aviv meant that a 20-minute journey to a high-risk pregnancy clinic on Monday instead took an hour and a half for Natalie Solomon, who is eight-and-a-half months pregnant. She said she hoped Netanyahu would concede and spare Israelis further disruption.
“Our country is falling apart,” she said, expressing her hope that an end to the political standoff is near. “I really hope Bibi backs down today, that’s the only option. … We care about democracy but we really just care about the health of our baby.
At the end of the day it really does disrupt day-to-day lives.”
Despite being on the cusp of their first major victory, protesters said the potential respite offered by Netanyahu would be a minor gesture, not one that could overcome the hard feelings that have built up over the past three months.
Justin Jacobs, an immigrant to Israel from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, said Israel has “turned a corner” after Sunday night’s protests.”So, [there’s] a glimmer of hope that we’ll go back to the status quo, which to me remains not good enough,” he said. “But not good enough is still better than horrifying.”
Others were less optimistic. “My feeling, the feeling of my parents, my grandparents, [is] that there’s no future here, I don’t know if I’ll raise kids here,” said Yotam Weingrad.
Like Weingrad, Daria, recalling her family’s experience, is also considering her future in the Jewish state.
Yariv and Daria, left, walk in Tel Aviv after participating in anti-government protests on Monday, March 27, 2023; at right, Natalie Solomon said her trip to a high-risk pregnancy clinic took more than four times longer than normal because of the protests. (Deborah Danan)
“I grew up in a family with intimate knowledge of what it feels like to live under oppression, and I feel like it’s our duty to do whatever we can to prevent it,” she said. “But if push comes to shove, if nothing’s going to change, I’ll make the same decision my parents did — my kids aren’t going to live in a dictatorship.”
For those not emotionally invested in the Israeli crisis, the streets of Tel Aviv on Monday provided a rare experience, and a sense of uncertainty. Jennifer, a tourist from Utah visiting Israel with her two daughters, Holly and Diana, wanted to know if “it is going to get scary” and wondered if they’d be able to get back to the United States, as airports had closed due to the general strike.
“We’ve never been to this part of the world so we’re kind of like ‘Wow,’ just taking in everything,” said Diana. “We don’t know what it’s like without the protests, and we’re like, ‘This is Tel Aviv. It’s a lot.’”
Support for the protests isn’t unanimous across Tel Aviv, a bastion of left-wing politics in Israel. Josh Eidelshtein called the protests “hypocritical,” and blamed them for fanning the flames of conflict.
“What if the protesters were right-wingers, Orthodox Jews, or Palestinians?” he said. “Would their strategies still be OK? There is too much hate being bred here, and it’s as if the collective stress and anxiety this country has lived on for so long has been set aflame. The same people who went out to vote [for the left] are now trying to work against the system because they didn’t get what they wanted.”
Khalil, who originally hails from the Arab village of Ein Hawd in Israel’s north, and has lived in Tel Aviv for 50 years, also opted to stay away from the protests, which he felt did not speak for him.
“The Arabs are a minority, what do they have to do with these protests?” Khalil said as he walked his dog near a giant yellow sign reading “Nonstop Democracy,” painted by the Tel Aviv municipality on the boardwalk.
“Bibi has done good things but now he’s silent. This is a man who knows how to speak,” Khalil said. Then, referring to Netanyahu’s coalition partners, he added, “He’s not the king of Israel anymore. He made big mistakes by taking those criminals into the government with him. They want to throw out all the Arabs.”
Also sitting out the protests was Meir Dayan, who counts himself among the supporters of Netanyahu’s proposed judicial reform. He is especially in favor of the legislation that was due to be brought for a final vote on Monday, which would have increased the governing coalition’s control over Supreme Court appointments. But Dayan added that he didn’t appreciate the way Netanyahu attempted to pass the measures into law.
The path along the beach in Tel Aviv has been painted with pro-democracy messages. (Deborah Danan)
“The way they went about it was reckless,” he said. “Change to heavy organizational processes — because this is what this basically is, after all — doesn’t happen with legislation, it happens with people. It must be bottom-up and from a place of education, not ignorance.”
Dayan predicted that Netanyahu will halt the legislation now, and then in the summer months “when the left are overseas,” he will return it to the Knesset floor.
Roughly four miles away from the main protest, a smaller demonstration coalesced near Jaffa’s clocktower, a landmark at the entrance to Tel Aviv’s older counterpart. At this protest, children as young as 5 chanted “Shame!” and “Save Democracy!” while their parents stood to the side.
“Here the adults are quiet so the children are taking the lead. It’s exciting,” said Gavri, 10.
There are a few things he’d like to bring about in Israeli society: the failure of the judicial overhaul, as well as an end to fighting between Jews and Arabs. Like the adults protesting across the city, he vowed not to give up.
“I will be here until the end,” he said. “I hope it won’t be a long time.”
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How an ‘unlikely rabbi’ went from Korea to Colbert
Calling herself an “unlikely rabbi,” Angela Buchdahl has been a staple on numerous lists of notable American Jews, including the Forward 50. Born in South Korea in 1972 and raised by a Korean Buddhist mother and an Ashkenazi Jewish father in Tacoma, Washington, she went on to become the first Asian American ordained as a rabbi and first as a cantor. Today, she leads Central Synagogue in New York City, one of the largest and most influential congregations in the country.
Her new memoir, Heart of a Stranger: An Unlikely Rabbi’s Story of Faith, Identity, and Belonging, traces that journey, from the embracing Jewish community she grew up in to finding herself the answer to a Jeopardy question (“What is rabbi?”) — and, even more bizarrely, picking up the phone one day to hear a hostage-taking gunman make demands of her as the “chief rabbi of the United States.” In advance of the book’s release and a launch event hosted by Stephen Colbert, I spoke with her about claiming her place in Jewish life and the responsibility of Jews to always think of the stranger as themselves.
This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.
How did you nab Stephen Colbert for your book launch event — or did he nab you?
His son and my son were college roommates, and I got to know him and his wife, Evie. I learned quickly that this was not only a very funny man and a very good interviewer, but someone who was deeply faithful. He teaches in his church and thinks a lot about faith. I’m very grateful that he said yes.
Your title is Heart of a Stranger. I want to challenge you on that: Haven’t you and I worked for years on representing Jews of color as normative? Are you still feeling like a stranger?
I guess I would argue that you never fully let it go. It’s like someone who says they were chubby as a kid. They’re not chubby anymore, but there’s some way in which they always see themselves as the chubby kid. You carry certain formative identity markers from childhood into your adulthood.
Heart of a Stranger is not an original title. I took it from Torah, which says, “Do not oppress the stranger. You know the heart of a stranger. You were strangers in Egypt.” This is the existential state that Jews are supposed to understand and know. The danger is when we get too comfortable, too powerful, too complacent.
Along those lines, you write about undergoing a conversion, even though your family was Reform, which by the time you were growing up had recognized patrilineal descent. That brought to mind Julius Lester’s conversion, which actually was something of a reversion because his great-grandfather was a German Jew. Lester said that he wasn’t converting to be accepted; he was converting for himself, saying, “I would do it even if no Jew ever accepted me.”
I had a very similar experience. I rejected the idea of converting when it was first suggested to me at age 16. Growing up in Tacoma in a Reform synagogue in my little Jewish bubble, I was accepted without a lot of questions. But I had a lot of existential identity questions: “Was I Jewish enough? Was I authentic enough? Was I learned enough?” And some of the answers were not yes.
I termed it a reaffirmation ceremony rather than conversion, because conversion sounds like turning into something that you weren’t before. I recognized that with a Beit Din of three Reform rabbis, it wasn’t going to change my status one whit for an Orthodox Jew. But it wasn’t for them. It was really a way to ritually mark the journey that I had been on and the acceptance of my identity in a way that felt important to me.
One reason I live in Duluth is I’ve called our little Temple Israel here the warmest shul that I’ve ever found in one of the coldest places on earth. Do you find it true that smaller Jewish communities are more embracing than large ones?
I grew up in a small community that was incredibly embracing of my family, including my mother, and that made a huge difference. I now work at a very large synagogue. I think the big difference is when you’re in a community where not everybody knows each other and they’re encountering people who are strangers. That’s when the inevitable questions come up.
It was disappointing for me after many years of being the senior rabbi of Central to hear from Jews of color who said Central wasn’t as welcoming of them as I thought. It hadn’t solved every problem just by having me as the senior rabbi. That was a painful realization that started a conversation that has shifted the culture at Central.
You write about the synagogue takeover in Colleyville, Texas, in 2022. The perpetrator who held the rabbi and congregants hostage called you while it was going on. He seemed to think that you were the “chief rabbi of the United States.” On the one hand, you’re balancing this misperception of your influence and power. On the other, this was a real situation of life and death.
That was one of the most surreal and destabilizing experiences I’ve ever had as a rabbi. They don’t train you for hostage negotiation in rabbinical school.
This terrorist clearly had done a lot of research. He researched the synagogue, which was the closest synagogue to the federal prison from which he wanted a prisoner released. The FBI went through his computer and saw that he was searching for what he thought was the equivalent of a chief rabbi because he was from England, where there is a chief rabbi. Of course, that doesn’t exist in America. He also mentioned that he saw pictures of me with President Obama at the White House. I think given Central’s name, and the fact that I had been the answer to a Jeopardy question not long before, may have put me higher up on the search algorithm.
It was terrifying because I felt that he very explicitly put the lives of these four people on me. And yet, I felt powerless to do anything. This is a case where I realized the danger of the antisemitic trope that he had imbibed since childhood, that Jews control the government and can make a few phone calls and get anything done. When I said to him, “I don’t think I have as much power as you think I do,” he was like, “Of course you do.” So, yeah, it was a terrifying day. I continue to give thanks that the four who were being held hostage survived.
Another weird note is that he seemed to think it normative that a Jew of color would be the chief rabbi of the United States. Does this mean our efforts for a more inclusive representation of Judaism are paying off?
It is funny because when I was named senior rabbi of Central, there was an Orthodox publication that had a headline like, “It’s official: Non-Jews can be rabbis” — literally calling me a non-Jew. And here was this deranged gunman who seemed to think I was the chief rabbi. I can laugh about it in some ways now that it’s over, but it is ironic.
The post How an ‘unlikely rabbi’ went from Korea to Colbert appeared first on The Forward.
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A love affair between two Yiddish poets in New York City
ראַשעל װעפּרינסקיס ראָמאַן „דאָס קרײצן פֿון די הענט“ איז אַ יוצא־דופֿן אין דער אַמעריקאַנער ייִדישער ליטעראַטור.
דאָס בוך איז אַרױס אין תּל־אָבֿיבֿ אין 1971, אָבער די האַנדלונג קומט פֿאָר אין 1918. דאָס איז אַ דראַמאַטישע ליבע־געשיכטע צװישן אַ דיכטער, וואָס הייסט ניעזשינער און אַ יונגער דיכטערין, מרים. בײדע זײַנען חתונה־געהאַטע מיט קינדער: ער האָט פֿינף, זי האָט אײנס. די שטורעמדיקע ליבע צעשטערט דעם שלום־בית אין ביידעהײמען. זײ פֿאַרלאָזן זײערע משפּחות און װאַנדערן איבער די גאַסן, קאַפֿע־הײַזער און געדונגענע צימערן אין דער גרױסער שטאָט ניו־יאָרק.
װען דאָס בוך איז אַרױס אױף ייִדיש, האָבן נאָך געלעבט לײענערס, װאָס האָבן געדענקט די בלי־תּקופֿה פֿון דער ייִדישער ליטעראַטור אין ניו־יאָרק און דערקענט די פּראָטאָטיפּן פֿון די פּערסאָנאַזשן: ניעזשינער איז דער דיכטער מאַני לײב בראַהינסקי (1883־1953) — ער שטאַמט פֿון דער שטאָט ניעזשין אין מזרח־אוקראַיִנע — און מרים איז די מחברטע, ראַשעל װעפּרינסקי (1896־1981). צװײ אַנדערע װיכטיקע פּערסאָנאַזשן האָבן אױך רעאַלע פּראָטאָטיפּן: ניעזשינערס חבֿר יעקבֿ שאָר איז דער דיכטער ראובֿן אײַזלאַנד (1884־1955) און זײַן קאָכאַנקע אַדאַ איז די דיכטערין אַנאַ מאַרגאָלין (ראָזע לעבענסבױם, 1887־1952).
צו דער צײַט פֿון דער פּובליקאַציע פֿונעם ראָמאַן זײַנען די דאָזיקע פּראָטאָטיפּן — חוץ װעפּרינסקין — שױן געװען אױף יענער װעלט. זײ האָבן ניט געקענט האָבן קײן טענות צו דער מחברטע. אַ סבֿרא, ניט אַלע פֿון זײ װאָלטן געװען צופֿרידן מיט זײערע ליטעראַרישע פּאָרטרעטן, בפֿרט אַנאַ מאַרגאָלין. אָט, למשל, װי װעפּרינסקי באַשרײַבט די באַציִונגען פֿון אַדאַ צו שאָרן: „אַדאַ האָט אים אױסגעקליבן בלױז דעמאָלט, װען זי האָט שױן נישט געהאַט קײן אױסקוק אױף עפּעס בעסערס. דערבײַ מאָנט זי כּסדר בײַ אים געטרײַשאַפֿט. אַלײן קאָכט זי צומאָל נישט אָפּ אַ לעפֿל געקעכץ, שטענדיק נאַשט זי זיסקײטן און װערט דיקער פֿון טאָג צו טאָג. אין שטוב איז אָנגעװאָרפֿן, ס’איז דאָ אַן אמתער הקדש.“ עס איז קלאָר, אַז קײן שטאַרקע ליבע צװישן װעפּרינסקי און מאַרגאָלין איז ניט געװען.
הײַיאָר איז װעפּרינסקיס ראָמאַן אַרױס אױף ענגליש אין דער איבערזעצונג פֿון חנה נאָריך און עלען קעסעדי. זײ דערקלערן אין דער הקדמה, אַז די פּערסאָנאַזשן פֿונעם ראָמאַן געהערן צו דער באָהעמישער ליטעראַרישער סבֿיבֿה אַרום דער ליטעראַרישער גרופּע „די יונגע“, װאָס איז געװען פּראָמינענט אין די ערשטע פּאָר צענדליק יאָר פֿונעם צװאַנציקסטן יאָרהונדערט.
אײַזלאַנד שרײַבט אין זײַנע זכרונות „פֿון אונדזער פֿרילינג“, אַז „דער נאָמען ׳יונגע׳ איז אורשפּרענגלעך געװען אַ שפּאָט־נאָמען פֿאַר אַ גרופּע יונגע שרײַבער, װאָס האָט נאָך אין 1907 געהאַט די ׳חוצפּה׳ צו דערקלערן, אַז מען דאַרף דאָס ביסל ייִדישע ליטעראַרישע כּוחות אין אַמעריקע באַפֿרײַען פֿון דער אַפּוטרופּסות פֿון די צײַטונגען, און זײ האָבן געזוכט צו שאַפֿן אַן אײגענעם ליטעראַרישן װינקל אין די דינע העפֿטלעך פֿון דעם חודש־זשורנאַל ׳די יוגנט׳.“ ביז הײַנט פֿאַרבלײַבן װעפּרינסקיס ראָמאַן און אײַזלאַנדס זכרונות די װיכטיקסטע מקורים װעגן דער ליטעראַרישער סבֿיבֿה פֿון יענער תּקופֿה.
„די יונגע“ האָבן געהאַט פֿעסטע עסטעטישע השׂגות װעגן דיכטונג. אײַזמאַן שרײַבט: „די דיכטונג דאַרף ניט לעבן אין זכות פֿון װעלכער ניט איז אידײ, װײַל זי לעבט אין איר אײגענעם זכות.“ ניעזשינער און מרים, פּונקט װי דאָס רובֿ ייִדישע ליטעראַטן פֿון יענער צײַט, זײַנען געװען אַרבעטער, אָבער דיכטונג איז בײַ זײ געװען װיכטיקער אײדער פּרנסה. נאָך אַ שװערן אַרבעט־טאָג אין אַ שאַפּ אָדער אַ פֿאַבריק האָבן זײ פֿאַרבראַכט אָװנטן מיט חבֿרים ליטעראַן און אַקטיאָרן אין קאַפֿע־הײַזער אױף דעם איסט־סײַד.
װעפּרינסקי באַשרײַבט די דאָזיקע אָװנטן אין דער הקדמה צו מאַני לײבס בריװ, װאָס זי האָט אַרױסגעגעבן אין 1980: „מאַני לײב פֿלעגט זיך אײַלן פֿון דער אַרבעט אין שלומס קאַפֿע און ס׳האָבן שױן דאָרט געװאַרט אױף אים זײַנע חבֿרים, כּדי צוזאַמען זאָלן זײ אױסאַרבעטן זײערע ליטעראַרישע פּלענער און פּראָיעקטן, אַרױסהעלפֿן חבֿרים פּאָעטן אַרױסגעבן זײערע װערק און טאַקע אױך הערן װעגן די לעצטע לידער זײַנע, װאָס זײַנען דערשינען זונטיק אין ‘פֿאָרװערטס’ און אין אַנדערער צײַטשריפֿטן. אױך איך פֿלעג קומען אַהין און מיר פֿלעגן זיך דאָרט טרעפֿן.”
מען האָט אױך געפֿירט לינקע ליבעס, צומאָל מיט מער װי אײן פֿרױ אָדער מאַן אײנצײַטיק. אַזאַ פֿירונג איז געװען אַ מין פּראָטעסט פֿונעם יונגן דור אימיגראַנטן קעגן דער אַלטמאָדישער ייִדישקײט פֿון זײערע עלטערן. די שטאָט ניו־יאָרק האָט טאַקע געשאַפֿן נײַע מעגלעכקײטן פֿאַר פֿרײַע באַציִונגען צװישן מענער און פֿרױען. די בריקן צװישן ברוקלין און מאַנהעטן, שמאָלע גאַסן און ברײטע עװעניוס, רעסטאָראַנען און פּריװאַטע דירות, װי אױך די װאַקאַציע־האָטעלן, פֿערמעס און װעלדער אין די קעטסקיל־בערג שפּילן אַ װיכטיקע ראָלע אין דער אַנטװיקלונג פֿונעם סיפּור־המעשׂה פֿונעם ראָמאַן.
די איבערזעצערינס באַמערקן אין דער הקדמה׃ „כאָטש דער ראָמאַן איז פֿאַרעפֿנטעלעכט געװאָרן אין ייִדיש העכער װי פֿופֿציק יאָר נאָך די באַשריבענע געשעענישן, לײענט ער זיך כּאילו ער איז אָנגעשריבן געװאָרן בשעת די האַנדלונג איז פֿאָרגעקומען.“ װעפּרינסקיס זכּרון האָט אָפּגעהיט ניט נאָר די פּרטים פֿונעם אַמאָליקן באָהעמישן שטײגער נאָר אױך דעם גײַסט פֿון יענער תּקופֿה, װען „די יונגע“ זײַנען טאַקע געװען יונג און פֿול מיט שעפֿערישע כּוחות.
אײַזלאַנד האַלט, אַז דער ערשטער, ראָמאַנטישער פּעריאָד אין מאַני לײבס דיכטונג, איז געקומען צום סוף, דװקא אַרום דער צײַט פֿון זײַן באַגעגעניש מיט ראַשעל. באַלד נאָך דעם האָט זיך אָנגעהױבן די צװײטע תּקופֿה: „די הױפּט־כאַראַקטעריסטיק פֿון מאַני לײבס ערשטער דיכטערישער תּקופֿה איז נעפּל. אַלץ איז אין איר פֿאַרנעפּלט. די שטימונג איז פֿאַרנעפּלט, די איבערלעבונג פֿון װעלכער זי װאַקסט אַרױס איז פֿאַרנעפּלט. […] די סיבה פֿון דער דאָזיקער פֿאַרנעפּלטקײט האָט זיך, לױט מײַן מײנונג, גענומען הױפּטזעכלעך פֿון דעם, װאָס ער אַלײן האָט […] מורא געהאַט צו דערגרונטעװען זיך צו זײַנע עמאָציעס. די הױפּט־כאַראַקטעריסטיק פֿון זײַן צװײטן פּעריאָד איז זוניקײט און קלאָרקײט.“
עס איז אַװדאי ניט מער װי אַ השערה, אַז די דראַמאַטישע און שטורעמדיקע ליבע־אַפֿערע מיט ראַשעל האָט געגעבן אַ שטױס פֿאַרן אַרױסברענגען מאַני לײבס דיכטונג פֿון נעפּל צו קלאָרקײט. אָבער עס איז ניטאָ קײן ספֿק, אַז די דאָזיקע שטאַרקע איבערלעבונגען האָבן איבערגעלאָזט אַ טיפֿן רושם אױף בײדע נשמות זײערע. װעפּרינסקי האָט אָפּגעהיט דעם דאָזיקן רושם איר גאַנץ לעבן און האָט געפֿונען פֿאַר אים אַ פֿרישן קינסטלערישן אױסדרוק אין איר ראָמאַן.
דער בעסטער אופֿן אָפּצושאַצן די שײנקײט און פֿרישקײט פֿונעם ראָמאַן איז צו לײענען אים אין אײנעם מיט מאַני לײבס לידער. און די הײַנטיקע צײַט איז אַן עת־רצון פֿאַר װענדן זיך צו דער ירושה פֿון דער אַמעריקאַנער ייִדיש־ליטעראַטור, װען אָרעמע ייִדישע אַרבעטער האָבן באַזונגען אין זײערע לידער פֿרײַהײט, ליבע און שײנקײט פֿון דער װעלט — אױף צו להכעיס די ביטערע אומשטאַנדן פֿון זײער טאָגטעגלעכן לעבן.
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After describing deal on ’60 Minutes,’ Witkoff and Kushner head to Israel as truce teeters
Two Israeli soldiers were killed in Gaza on Sunday and Israel conducted strikes against targets inside the territory in the biggest threats yet to the week-old ceasefire between Israel and Hamas.
The soldiers were not killed by Hamas, the group and Israel both said. The deaths come as Hamas is continuing to locate and release the bodies of deceased Israeli hostages, as required by the terms of the ceasefire deal, and as U.S. officials head to the region in an attempt to preserve the deal brokered by President Donald Trump.
Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner, who closed the deal, arrived on Monday and Vice President J.D. Vance is set to land on Tuesday. Witkoff and Kushner arrived after offering details about how the deal came to pass during an appearance on “60 Minutes” that was reportedly brokered in part by Bari Weiss, the Jewish journalist who now helms CBS News.
Witkoff described how Israel’s Sept. 9 strike on Hamas targets in Qatar, which was unsuccessful, came to represent a turning point in U.S.-led efforts to end the war.
“I think both Jared and I felt — I just feel we felt a little bit betrayed,” Witkoff said. About Trump’s reaction to the strike, he said, “I think he felt like the Israelis were getting a little bit out of control in what they were doing, and that it was time to be very strong and stop them from doing things that he felt were not in their long-term interests.”
Kushner, who also proposed an Israeli-Palestinian peace plan during Trump’s first term, described his reaction to viewing the devastation in Gaza, where he visited after the ceasefire took effect and saw Palestinians returning to their destroyed homes. “It’s very sad, because you think to yourself, they really have nowhere else to go,” he said.
Kushner rebuffed a question about whether his business interests in the region interfered with his role in peace talks. And both he and Witkoff rejected the idea that Israel committed genocide in Gaza, from which Hamas launched the two-year war with a brutal attack on Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
Kushner and Witkoff drew cheers last week in Hostage Square where they addressed crowds following the release of the final 20 living hostages from Gaza.
Three deceased hostages were released over the weekend, and the remains of another hostage is expected to be transferred to Israel on Monday night.
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The post After describing deal on ’60 Minutes,’ Witkoff and Kushner head to Israel as truce teeters appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.