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What an ER doctor and musical trendsetter Miri Ben-Ari, a Jay Z collaborator, have in common
Being a successful musician is a lot like being a trauma room physician. You need to collaborate harmoniously with others, practice a lot and perform expertly in real time.
One might think that performing on some of the world’s largest stages and at high-profile venues like the White House is nothing like working in a tight space in a hospital emergency room. One involves art, the other science; one happens in public, the other behind closed doors; one appears beautiful and clean, the other can be messy and bloody. But the two actually have a lot in common.
Dr. Tal Patalon, the head of Kahn Sagol Maccabi (KSM), the Research and Innovation Center of the Israeli HMO Maccabi Healthcare Services, highlighted this when she hosted Grammy Award-winning violinist, producer and UN Goodwill Ambassador of Music Miri Ben-Ari on her podcast, “A Matter of Life and Death.”
“It is as though I am meditating on the highest frequency when I am in front of a live audience,” Ben-Ari said. “It is like an out-of-body experience.”
Patalon, an active clinician specializing in family and emergency medicine, said, “The same thing happens to me when a patient comes in. Every decision is one of life and death. You have to be in the moment. You have to give your everything to perform at your max.”
Musical trendsetter Ben-Ari has brought the violin to the fore in commercial pop music, collaborating with artists including John Legend, Alicia Keys, Janet Jackson and Jay Z.
The unusual and popular podcast — now in its third season, but the first in English — is an opportunity for Patalon to talk with thought leaders from a wide variety of backgrounds and fields, including medicine, academia, technology and the corporate world, and she brings to listeners unusual conversations that wind their way from the esoteric to the profound. Recent guests on the program have included astrophysicist Avi Loeb, former Mossad chief Yossi Cohen, and psychologist and happiness expert Tal Ben-Shahar.
KSM has unique access to Maccabi’s professional medical data and conducts medical research, helping scientists, tech companies and entrepreneurs through various partnerships; uses a unique cloud-based platform that relies in part on AI technology; operates a bio-bank with over 1 million biological samples that assist companies in genetic sequencing and genetic research; and supports a range of other big data and clinical research projects.
Patalon thinks broadly, seeking inspiration from all corners.
Born in Tel Aviv, violinist Ben-Ari, 44, grew up playing classical music and at one point studied under the legendary Israeli violinist Isaac Stern.
“But something switched for me when I heard a recording of Charlie Parker,” Ben-Ari said. “He wasn’t playing the saxophone; he was talking to it. I wanted to do that with the violin. So I studied jazz in the United States and played with the best.”
Ben-Ari, who remained in the United States and lives in New Jersey, felt she was finally in her zone. “Now I could do me. I could integrate, harmonize and collaborate,” she said.
Miri Ben-Ari, left, was a guest of Dr. Tal Patalon, the head of Kahn Sagol Maccabi (KSM), the Research and Innovation Center of the Israeli HMO Maccabi Healthcare Services, on her podcast “A Matter of Life and Death.” (Courtesy of KSM Research and Innovation Center)
Over the past two years, Ben-Ari has branched out even further by working with African artists such as Nigerian producer Young D and Tanzanian superstar Diamond Platumz, who plays bongo flava — a melange of American hip hop and traditional Tanzanian styles.
“It’s been fascinating working with African artists,” Ben-Ari said. “Africa is so close to Israel, so it was natural for me to go in this direction. The music is different in each country, and in each region of the continent.”
Patalon asked Ben-Ari on her podcast what it has been like to move from classical music training to experimentation with so many genres.
“I actually gave a TED talk about how to take a skill from one place to another,” Ben-Ari said. “You first have to have a firm foundation, then you can let your imagination take over and think outside the box.”
But it’s not easy, she said. “You find your own individual way of expression. It takes a lot of chutzpah, drive, persistence, dedication and bravery to keep continuing when you get a lot of no’s along the way.”
According to Patalon, the process bears some similarities to medicine. Just as Ben-Ari had to have years of classical training behind her to be able to innovate as she does, trauma care doctors need to have their basics intact before trying new approaches, Patalon said. One can only innovate on top of a deep foundation of expertise, experience and competence.
“It’s more than just knowing the basics. You need to be able to do them as an automatic response behavior. I need to know how to resuscitate a patient with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back,” she said. “We have to be experts.”
At the end of every podcast episode, Patalon asks her guest whether they think about death and how they would like to be remembered.
Ben-Ari said that the prospect of death doesn’t regularly occupy her: “I am busy with life, and I don’t think about what will happen after I die.”
When Patalon asked Ben-Ari what she would like the epitaph on her gravestone to say, she said she didn’t want an actual place of burial.
“I don’t believe in graves,” Ben Ari said. “I want to be an NFT or something technological like that. I would want there to be one private one just for my child, and a different version for my fans.”
Patalon suggested that she wasn’t surprised that Ben-Ari doesn’t think much about death, noting how common it is for people to fear death because they fear pain and losing relationships with loved ones — and are afraid of the unknown.
In the last episode of her popular podcast, Patalon offers some intriguing insights into the future of medical treatment: how technology will help predict a person’s medical future, how therapies can be tailored to the individual’s level, and the ethical questions that arise from these advances.
Ultimately, Patalon concludes, our well-being will be determined by what we do outside medical establishments: “I hope that we will all learn how to take the time to introspect, to develop relationships that are meaningful, because at the end of the day that’s what really keeps us happy.”
To listen to this episode and others from Season 3, visit ksminnovation.com/podcast.
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The post What an ER doctor and musical trendsetter Miri Ben-Ari, a Jay Z collaborator, have in common appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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The Day I Hid My Star of David Necklace
Anti-Israel protesters gather at Museumplein ahead of a 6 km march through the city as part of a protest demanding a tougher stance from the Dutch government against Israel’s war in Gaza, in Amsterdam, Netherlands, Oct. 5, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Charlotte Van Campenhout
There are moments when a small object can feel unbearably heavy.
For me, it was my Star of David necklace — a delicate piece, inherited through generations, usually worn without a second thought. But recently, for the first time, I left it at home on purpose.
I have spent more than a decade publicly defending Israel in the Netherlands. I am not easily intimidated. I have never believed in lowering my voice to make others comfortable. Yet years of activism have taught me something sobering. Conviction does not shield you from hatred.
In the Dutch debate, hostility toward Israel is often dressed up as principled anti-Zionism. The terminology sounds political, even academic. In practice, it frequently mutates into something far uglier. I have been called a dirty Jew, a child killer, a parasite. I have received death threats online. Eggs were thrown at my home. My car tires were slashed more than once. A dead pigeon was once hung on my door in a plastic bag, a grotesque attempt at intimidation.
The irony is bitter. According to rabbinical standards, I am not considered Jewish enough to qualify for Aliyah under religious law, despite Jewish roots on both sides of my family. Yet to those who despise Israel, I am more than Jewish enough to be targeted.
When I reported the harassment, I was advised to keep a lower profile. Perhaps, I was told, I should refrain from speaking so openly in support of Israel. That conversation taught me a painful lesson. Protection would not necessarily come from institutions. It would have to come from resilience.
Over the years, I have lost professional opportunities and personal relationships. I occupy a strange space. Too Jewish for some. Not Jewish enough for others. Meanwhile, I am accused of being a Mossad agent or a paid operative for advocacy groups such as CIDI. The truth is less glamorous. I am simply a Dutch woman who has studied history and refuses to distort it.
Still, something shifted recently.
I needed to see a cardiologist. A routine appointment, nothing political about it. Out of caution, I searched his public social media profile. He had shared and endorsed extreme anti Israel content, including propaganda portraying Israel as uniquely evil. Suddenly a standard medical visit felt charged.
That morning, I removed my Star of David and placed it on my dresser.
The gesture unsettled me more than I expected. It felt like surrender. The same calculation followed before an appointment with another medical professional, originally from Iran. Check social media. Remove visible symbols. Avoid potential bias. Stay invisible.
I am not proud of that instinct. For years I have urged others to stand tall. Yet when you are alone in a climate of escalating hostility, prudence can override pride. Health is not a battleground on which one wishes to test ideological neutrality.
The broader context explains why this fear is not imaginary. The Netherlands has witnessed a sharp rise in antisemitic incidents. CIDI, the Center for Information and Documentation on Israel, recorded 379 antisemitic incidents in 2023, then 421 in 2024, the highest number since monitoring began. Police figures, using broader criteria, have been even higher. These are not abstract data points. They represent Jewish students harassed in classrooms, mezuzot ripped from doorposts, and families who hesitate before displaying visible signs of identity.
Each year on Holocaust Remembrance Day, including ceremonies marking the liberation of, we solemnly repeat the words “never again.” The phrase echoes with sincerity. But remembrance without vigilance is ritual without substance.
My advocacy for Israel does not stem from blind loyalty. It arises from historical understanding. After two thousand years of exile, persecution, and statelessness, the reestablishment of Jewish sovereignty in 1948 was not a colonial experiment but an act of national restoration. Israel, like any democracy, is imperfect. It debates fiercely within itself. It includes Jews from Europe, the Middle East, North Africa, and Ethiopia. I have written extensively about the rescue of Ethiopian Jews who found refuge and citizenship there. That diversity alone undermines the simplistic caricature of Israel as a racist project.
When activists declare that Zionism is racism and deny Israel’s right to exist, they claim to be advancing justice. In reality, they are singling out the world’s only Jewish state for elimination. It is not surprising that such rhetoric often spills over into open antisemitism.
The consequences are felt far beyond Israel’s borders. Across Europe and America, Jewish communities report heightened violence and terrorism. The Netherlands is not immune. And so a necklace becomes a calculation.
Yet while I may occasionally remove a symbol, I will not silence my voice. If anything, the climate reinforces why speaking out matters.
Unity is essential. Jews and non-Jews alike must reject the normalization of antisemitism, whether it appears under the banner of anti-Zionism or any other fashionable label. This is not about suppressing legitimate criticism of Israeli policies. It is about drawing a moral line when criticism becomes demonization and when political disagreement becomes collective vilification.
One day, I hope, wearing a Star of David in Amsterdam will feel entirely unremarkable. An heirloom necklace will simply be jewelry, not a statement of defiance. Until then, even if I sometimes leave it at home, I will continue to speak publicly and unapologetically.
Because never again is not a slogan. It is a responsibility that begins in the present.
Sabine Sterk is the CEO of Time To Stand Up For Israel.
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History and Archaeological Evidence Shows Jews Were Pioneers in Learning and Education
Inside the National Library of Israel. Photo: © Herzog & de Meuron; Mann-Shinar Architects, Executive Architect.
The opening of a new building for the National Library of Israel was one of the events overshadowed by the October 7 attack on Israel.
The library, almost five million square feet of space containing five million books, did open its doors on October, 29, 2023. The impressive new building, with its state-of-the-art automated book retrieval system, is a far cry from the library’s modest beginnings in 1892.
That the library opened five years before the first Zionist Congress, and well before the establishment of the state of Israel, indicates the importance that the Jewish people place on books and literacy — and also the long connection between Jews and Israel.
In Judaism and Hellenism in Antiquity (1998), Lee I. Levine makes the point that Jews were unique in the ancient world in reading a holy text at religious services and discussing its meaning on a regular basis. (Ezra the Scribe is credited with initiating the reading of the Torah at religious services, in the fifth century BCE, after the return from exile in Babylonia [Nehemiah 8:1-8].)
That Jews are widely associated with literacy is a widespread belief. In fact, the expression “People of the Book” originated in the Koran, as a description for Jews (and Christians). But how literate were they in Biblical times? Scholars such as Meir Bar Ilan suggest that literacy in ancient Israel was low, less than 3% of the population, even as late as the first centuries CE.
After all, with the exception of priests and scribes, why would it be necessary to read and write in an agricultural society? However, recent archeological evidence signals that Jewish literacy in Biblical times was far more widespread than previously thought.
Archeological teams from Tel Aviv University used computer-based analyses to evaluate letters written by a small contingent of 20 to 30 Judean soldiers located at a military outpost at Arad, near the southern border of Judea. The letters, in Hebrew, were written in ink on ostraca (potsherds used as writing surfaces) shortly before the fall of Jerusalem to the Babylonians in 586 BCE.
Computer handwriting analysis used machine learning to digitize, segment, and extract features (for example, separation distances, angles, slopes, curves) from script to identify individuals. A professional handwriting expert also evaluated the writing on the ostraca.
The results, published in academic journals (PNAS, 2016 and Plos One, 2020), show that there were at least 12 different writers. They varied in rank, down to the equivalent of quartermaster (much of the material in the letters dealt with provisions and supplies). Clearly, the society represented by the soldiers at Arad must have included an educational infrastructure capable of ensuring widespread literacy.
In Discovering Second Temple Literature (2018) Malka Z. Simkovich, Crown-Ryan Chair of Jewish Studies at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago, provides a comprehensive view of the extensive literary output by Jewish communities during the period of the Second Temple (539 BCE to 70 CE). While she does not refer to literacy per se, the variety of material she describes, and the volume of letters written between Jews in Judea and those in the Diaspora (mainly between Jerusalem, Alexandria, and Antioch), suggests that the ability to read and write was common.
Some of the writings Simkovich refers to were found in the Cairo Geniza, a trove of more than 400,000 manuscripts, and fragments of manuscripts, discovered in the storeroom (the geniza) of the Ben Ezra Synagogue in Fustat (Old Cairo), Egypt.
Most of this collection was taken to Cambridge University in 1896 and today is being digitized. While much of this material involves the post-Temple period, manuscripts from the earlier, Second Temple period, were also common.
The geniza, a uniquely Jewish concept, is rooted in Jewish law. Any old or damaged liturgical texts or ritual objects that may include G-d’s name must not be casually discarded. The geniza is a temporary repository for such material prior to burial in consecrated ground.
The material in the Cairo Geniza was unusual in that the material stored there accumulated for a long time, between the 8th and 19th centuries. It includes secular material, such as legal contracts, accounting books, and personal letters, along with Biblical texts and rabbinical writings, making it a particularly valuable historical find. But equally important, the existence of the geniza is a reminder of the reverence for the written word that is a part of the Jewish tradition.
Jacob Sivak, a Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada, is a retired professor, University of Waterloo.
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Tucker Carlson’s Huckabee Interview: Confidence Without Comprehension
Carlson floated additional insinuations and conspiracy, including the absurd claim that the United States went to war in Iraq after September 11 because of Israel.
This trope, that Jewish or Israeli influence dragged America into war, has circulated for decades across ideological extremes.
Reducing complex American strategic decisions, Congressional votes, and post-9/11 security policy to “Israel made us do it” is not serious analysis. Yet here it was, presented as such by a former Fox News host watched by millions.
By the end of nearly three hours, a pattern had emerged.
Carlson repeatedly blurred theology into policy, questioned Jewish historical continuity, recycled war-blame insinuations, dismissed counter-evidence, and spoke authoritatively on subjects he appeared not to have mastered.
And he did so with confidence.
That is what much of the media missed.

The story was not Huckabee’s answer to a distorted Biblical question.
It was watching a prominent commentator unravel under the weight of his own thinly sourced claims.
Criticism of Israeli policy is legitimate. Debate over strategy is healthy.
But when interrogation gives way to insinuation, and skepticism morphs into selective credulity, the result is not fearless journalism.
It is confidence without comprehension.
And it was watched by nearly two million viewers in under 24 hours.
The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.
