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Which side are you on: Jewish American or American Jew?
(JTA) — Earlier this month the New York Times convened what it called a “focus group of Jewish Americans.” I was struck briefly by that phrase — Jewish Americans — in part because the Times, like the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, tends to prefer “American Jews.”
It’s seemingly a distinction without a difference, although I know others might disagree. There is an argument that “American Jew” smacks of disloyalty, describing a Jew who happens to be American. “Jewish American,” according to this thinking, flips the script: an American who happens to be Jewish.
If pressed, I’d say I prefer “American Jew.” The noun “Jew” sounds, to my ear anyway, more direct and more assertive than the tentative adjective “Jewish.” It’s also consistent with the way JTA essentializes “Jew” in its coverage, as in British Jew, French Jew, LGBT Jew or Jew of color.
I wouldn’t have given further thought to the subject if not for a webinar last week given by Arnold Eisen, the chancellor emeritus at the Jewish Theological Seminary. In “Jewish-American, American-Jew: The Complexities and Joys of Living a Hyphenated Identity,” Eisen discussed how a debate over language is really about how Jews navigate between competing identities.
“What does the ‘American’ signify to us?” he asked. “What does the ‘Jewish’ signify and what is the nature of the relationship between the two? Is it a synthesis? Is it a tension, or a contradiction, or is it a blurring of the boundaries such that you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins?”
Questions like these, it turns out, have been asked since Jews and other immigrants first began flooding Ellis Island. Teddy Roosevelt complained in 1915 that “there is no room in this country for hyphenated Americans.” Woodrow Wilson liked to say that “any man who carries a hyphen about with him carries a dagger that he is ready to plunge into the vitals of the Republic.” The two presidents were frankly freaked out about what we now call multiculturalism, convinced that America couldn’t survive a wave of immigrants with dual loyalties.
The two presidents lost the argument, and for much of the 20th century “hyphenated American” was shorthand for successful acculturation. While immigration hardliners continue to question the loyalty of minorities who claim more than one identity, and Donald Trump played with the politics of loyalty in remarks about Mexicans, Muslims and Jews, ethnic pride is as American as, well, St. Patrick’s Day. “I am the proud daughter of Indian immigrants,” former South Carolina Gov. Nikki Haley said in announcing her run for the Republican presidential nomination this month.
For Jews, however, the hyphen became what philosophy professor Berel Lang called “a weighty symbol of the divided life of Diaspora Jewry.” Jewishness isn’t a distant country with quaint customs, but a religion and a portable identity that lives uneasily alongside your nationality. In a 2005 essay, Lang argued that on either side of the hyphen were “vying traditions or allegiances,” with the Jew constantly confronted with a choice between the American side, or assimilation, and the Jewish side, or remaining distinct.
Eisen calls this the “question of Jewish difference.” Eisen grew up in an observant Jewish family in Philadelphia, and understood from an early age that his family was different from their Vietnamese-, Italian-, Ukrainian- and African-American neighbors. On the other hand, they were all the same — that is, American — because they were all hyphenated. “Being parallel to all these other differences, gave me my place in the city and in the country,” he said.
In college he studied the Jewish heavy hitters who were less sanguine about the integration of American and Jewish identities. Eisen calls Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan, the renegade theologian at JTS, “the thinker who really made this question uppermost for American Jews.” Kaplan wrote in 1934 that Jewishness could only survive as a “subordinate civilization” in the United States, and that the “Jew in America will be first and foremost an American, and only secondarily a Jew.”
Kaplan’s prescription was a maximum effort on the part of Jews to “save the otherness of Jewish life” – not just through synagogue, but through a Jewish “civilization” expressed in social relationships, leisure activities and a traditional moral and ethical code.
Of course, Kaplan also understood that there was another way to protect Jewish distinctiveness: move to Israel.
A poster issued by the National Industrial Conservation Movement in 1917 warns that the American war effort might be harmed by a “hyphen of disloyalty,” suggesting immigrants with ties to their homelands were working to aid the enemy. (Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress)
The political scientist Charles Liebman, in “The Ambivalent American Jew” (1973), argued that Jews in the United States were torn between surviving as a distinct ethnic group and integrating into the larger society.
According to Eisen, Liebman believed that “Jews who make ‘Jewish’ the adjective and ‘American’ the noun tend to fall on the integration side of the hyphen. And Jews who make ‘Jew’ the noun and ‘American’ the adjective tend to fall on the survival side of the hyphen.”
Eisen, a professor of Jewish thought at JTS, noted that the challenge of the hyphen was felt by rabbis on opposite ends of the theological spectrum. He cited Eugene Borowitz, the influential Reform rabbi, who suggested in 1973 that Jews in the United States “are actually more Jewish on the inside than they pretend to be on the outside. In other words, we’re so worried about what Liebman called integration into America that we hide our distinctiveness.” Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, the leading Modern Orthodox thinker of his generation, despaired that the United States presented its Jews with an unresolvable conflict between the person of faith and the person of secular culture.
When I read the texts Eisen shared, I see 20th-century Jewish men who doubted Jews who could be fully at home in America and at home with themselves as Jews (let alone as Jews who weren’t straight or white — which would demand a few more hyphens). They couldn’t imagine a rich Jewishness that didn’t exist as a counterculture, the way Cynthia Ozick wondered what it would be like to “think as a Jew” in a non-Jewish language like English.
They couldn’t picture the hyphen as a plus sign, which pulled the words “Jewish” and “American” together.
Recent trends support the skeptics. Look at Judaism’s Conservative movement, whose rabbis are trained at JTS, and which has long tried to reconcile Jewish literacy and observance with the American mainstream. It’s shrinking, losing market share and followers both to Reform – where the American side of the hyphen is ascendant — and to Orthodoxy, where Jewish otherness is booming in places like Brooklyn and Lakewood, New Jersey. And the Jewish “nones” — those opting out of religion, synagogue and active engagement in Jewish institutions and affairs — are among the fastest-growing segments of American Jewish life.
Eisen appears more optimistic about a hyphenated Jewish identity, although he insists that it takes work to cultivate the Jewish side. “I don’t think there’s anything at stake necessarily on which side of the hyphen you put the Jewish on,” he said. “But if you don’t go out of your way to put added weight on the Jewish in the natural course of events, as Kaplan said correctly 100 years ago, the American will win.”
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The post Which side are you on: Jewish American or American Jew? appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Hamas Braces for Israeli Operations Abroad, Continued Clan Opposition in Gaza
Palestinian Hamas terrorists stand guard at a site as Hamas says it continues to search for the bodies of deceased hostages, in Beit Lahiya in the northern Gaza Strip, Dec. 3, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Stringer
Hamas is increasingly preparing for what it sees as an imminent Israeli attempt to assassinate senior leaders abroad, urging members to tighten personal security as the group simultaneously works to consolidate its weakened position in Gaza and reassert control over the enclave.
According to the Arabic newspaper Asharq Al-Awsat, Hamas officials reported rising concern over additional Israeli strikes on the Palestinian terrorist group’s top echelon abroad in the wake of last week’s killing of Hezbollah commander Haitham Tabtabai and September’s operation in Qatar targeting Hamas’s senior leadership.
Despite US “reassurance messages” to several parties — including mediators in Turkey, Qatar, and Egypt — that further strikes on senior Hamas members abroad would not be repeated, the group’s leadership says it “does not trust Israel.”
“There are expectations of a new assassination attempt with the Israeli government’s efforts to obstruct the second phase of the ceasefire agreement and its claim that the movement has no intention of advancing toward a deal,” the Palestinian terrorist group said.
Hamas members reportedly received new instructions requiring all fixed meetings at a single location to be canceled, with leaders instead holding irregular gatherings at rotating sites.
Meanwhile, the head of an armed Palestinian faction opposing Hamas in Gaza died on Thursday while mediating an internal dispute between families and groups within the militia, dealing a setback to Israeli efforts to support Gazan clans against the ruling Islamist group.
Yasser Abu Shabab, a Bedouin tribal leader based in Israeli-held Rafah in southern Gaza, had led one of the most prominent of several small anti-Hamas groups that emerged in the enclave during the war that began more than two years ago.
Following the incident, Hamas said in a statement that the fate of anyone who “betrayed their people and homeland and agreed to be an instrument in the hands of the occupation [Israel]” was inevitable, accusing Abu Shabab of “criminal acts” that amounted to a “flagrant deviation from national and social consensus.”
Abu Shabab’s death would be a boost to Hamas, which has branded him a collaborator and ordered its fighters to kill or capture him.
“The occupation that could not protect its own agents will be unable to protect any of its collaborators, and anyone who undermines the security of their people and serves their enemy is destined to fall into the dustbin of history, losing all respect and standing in society,” the terrorist group said in its statement.
Gaza’s Popular Forces confirmed that its leader died of a gunshot wound as he intervened in a family quarrel, and dismissed as “misleading” reports that Hamas was behind Abu Shabab’s killing.
Ghassan al-Dahini, who could assume leadership of the group following the incident, pledged to continue Abu Shabab’s project and resist Hamas by establishing an alternative to the terrorist group’s rule.
“With God’s help, and following my brother Yasser’s plan, we will return as we were — more determined and stronger,” al-Dahini said in a statement, according to Hebrew media. “We will keep fighting with every last ounce of strength until every final terrorist is gone.”
“Today, Hamas will see its true face — the one the world should have recognized long ago. We will restore hope to all Palestinians, to all free people, to the oppressed, and to everyone who believes in peace,” he continued.
Rafah has been the scene of some of the worst violence during the ceasefire, with residents reporting gunbattles on Wednesday that left four Israeli soldiers wounded. On Thursday, the Israeli military said its forces killed about 40 Hamas fighters trapped in tunnels beneath the city.
Shortly after the US-backed ceasefire to halt fighting in Gaza took effect in October, Hamas moved to reassert control over the war-torn enclave and consolidate its weakened position by targeting Palestinians who it labeled as “lawbreakers and collaborators with Israel.”
Since then, Hamas’s brutal crackdown has escalated dramatically, sparking widespread clashes and violence as the group moves to seize weapons and eliminate any opposition.
Social media videos widely circulated online show Hamas members brutally beating Palestinians and carrying out public executions of alleged collaborators and rival militia members.
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Palestinian Official Calls Drop Site News Founder an ‘Apologist’ for Hamas, Ex-Obama Aides Say They ‘Love’ the Site
Abdal Karim Ewaida, the Palestinian ambassador to Côte d’Ivoire, in October 2023. Photo: Screenshot
A Palestinian diplomat accused a popular new anti-Israel website of running cover and acting as an apologist for Hamas.
Abdal Karim Ewaida, the Palestinian ambassador to Côte d’Ivoire, posted on social media about Drop Site News on Tuesday, after the website reported that the Palestinian Authority was planning to ban Hamas and other terrorist factions from running in future elections.
“Pro-resistance parties and armed resistance remains one of the single most popular points in [Palestinian] public polling,” said Jeremy Scahill, founder of Drop Site News. “The Palestinian Authority is saying, ‘You are not allowed to run for public office anymore.’ And when you look at what the defense of this is on the part of the Palestinian Authority, it is a pathetic defense.”
In response, Ewaida lambasted Scahill in a social media post.
“As for Jeremy Scahill — a journalist who transitions between outlets, perhaps pursuing higher remuneration — he consistently excuses Hamas and [Yahya] Sinwar’s purported interest in reconciliation solely to vilify the Palestinian National Authority and President Mahmoud Abbas. It is astounding,” the Palestinian official wrote.
Sinwar, who was killed by Israeli forces last year, was the leader of Hamas and mastermind of the Palestinian terrorist group’s Oct. 7, 2023, invasion of and massacre across southern Israel.
“He acts as a fervent apologist for Hamas and jihadist elements,” Ewaida continued, referring to Scahill, “even to the point of rationalizing [Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin] Netanyahu’s claims of financially bolstering Hamas as being in Israel’s interest, while attempting to spin it as favorable to Hamas itself. He seems to believe he can speak with impunity.”
Ewaida went on to castigate Drop Site News in general, saying that the “platform’s credibility is deeply compromised. We are acutely aware of its sources of funding and underlying motives. The day will come when your malicious objectives and relentless advocacy for Hamas — now apparent to all — will be fully exposed, leaving little doubt about your benefactors.”
Let me be clear from the outset: I represent the State of Palestine as its ambassador, not the Palestinian Authority as an envoy—a distinction that stands regardless of opinion.
Secondly, your platform’s credibility is deeply compromised. We are acutely aware of its sources of… https://t.co/E6Ym43wWL0
— Ambassadeur Abdal Karim Ewaida (@KarimEwaida) December 3, 2025
One day after Ewaida’s post, the hosts of the influential progressive podcast “Pod Save America” — all one-time aides to former US President Barack Obama — mentioned Drop Site News, saying “we love you guys” and “we are readers.”
The two hosts that were part of that conversation, Ben Rhodes and Tommy Vietor, served as speechwriter and spokesman, respectively, for Obama in the White House, focusing on national security issues.
In a follow-up to the episode, the Drop Site News posted on its X account “Pod Save the World = confirmed Drop Site readers,” and Rhodes responded, “yes readers.”
Good correction! And yes readers.
— Ben Rhodes (@brhodes) December 3, 2025
Many former Obama staffers have become vocally critical of Israel in recent years, especially amid the war in Gaza. However, Rhodes’s views on Israel were particularly critical at the time they were serving in government as well, so much so that during the Obama administration, he earned himself the nickname “Hamas” in the White House. The nickname was coined by Obama’s chief of staff, Rahm Emanuel, as Rhodes revealed in his memoir, The World as It Is.
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My favorite Christmas scene in literature — and why it makes me feel so Jewish
Some years ago, a college friend of my brother’s and mine visited our family home in Denver. “Now I understand it,” he said, sagely, after a couple of hours: “If you aren’t actively making noise in this house, you don’t exist.”
It’s true that I come from a noisy clan. If it is rude to get your family members’ attention by screaming at the top of your lungs, no one ever told me. We grew up far away from our extended family, but on visits to their homes growing up, I saw the same dynamic at play. The louder the gathering, as a general rule, the more successful it was.
I understood, from a young age — years before I learned the term — that “cooperative overlapping” was profoundly Jewish. Our culture celebrated the qualities of being loud and proud.
But I was a bookish child, and my favorite books were old-fashioned ones that chronicle the changes of girlhood: L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables series, Noel Streatfield’s Ballet Shoes, and the like. And as I read and re-read them, I noticed something: At some point, the wild girls turned into ladies, and, crucially, quieted down.
Anne Shirley’s maturity is marked by silence: Those who love her notice that, suddenly, she’s stopped the constant stream of chatter that made her both so endearing and so annoying. She starts to speak less often, more thoughtfully, and in more measured tones, and that is how the reader knows she has begun to come into her own.
How could I square the culture of the Jewish family I loved with my desire to be like the girls in my books — full of the quiet magic of young womanhood?
Enter my favorite depiction of Christmas in literature, in Louisa May Alcott’s Eight Cousins.
The novel, a relatively little-known effort by the author of Little Women, centers on a well-off Scottish American clan, bright blonde to the last baby, who live in a WASPy enclave near Boston. It is about, as the title neatly suggests, eight cousins: seven brash boys, and one girl, raised far from her family, who comes into their midst after being orphaned and given over to the care of an uncle with newfangled ideas about childrearing. (Oatmeal and morning sprints in the garden are in; ruffles, long hours shut up indoors, and ladylike affectations are out.)
To a Jewish girl raised in the mountain west, they were an unfamiliar bunch. Except for the sense, fundamental to the book’s premise, that the bonds of family are sacred, and enshrined by ruckus.
I often felt like Rose, the solitary girl, on trips to see my own cousins, in Evanston, Illinois, and the Finger Lakes region of New York. We grew up so far apart that I could not help but feel shy and anxious upon first immersion. My cousins seemed so confident and brilliant, and I would feel small and strange among them. Then the chaos of a happy family would come for me, and in time, I would be shouting and playing along with the rest.
For Rose, that chaos comes to a climax on Christmas, when a seafaring uncle she hasn’t met since she was a baby makes a surprise return home. After many months getting used to the happy, charming, raucous boys who see her as a peer and sometimes a pet, Uncle Jem’s return throws her briefly back into the role of outsider. The family feels complete upon his arrival, in a way it didn’t before. But does that completeness include her?
I knew how the scene ended: with cousin Steve wailing away on a bagpipe, cousin Charlie trying to catch Rose under the mistletoe, everyone dancing a Scottish reel, and cousin Mac — always my favorite — discoursing on grand topics with his elders, while his cousins set loving traps for his embarrassment. But every time I read it, as Rose emerged to meet her long-absent uncle and see if she still fit as well in the family to which she was still getting accustomed, I felt my heart in my throat.
I understood how torn she was between behaving like a ladylike little woman, and like the cheerful, uninhibited, loud girl she had only just learned to embrace being. And in the Christmas gathering she so deeply longed to be a complete part of, I saw my own family — mostly brunette, definitively un-Scottish, highly Jewish, rollicking away.
Yes, it’s odd that, of all things, a scene centered on a Christian holiday would be the one, in all my beloved childhood books, that made me feel like I was seeing my own Jewish family on the page. At the same time, I think there’s something quite dreamy about the connection. And quite American.
The best version of this country is one in which people of all different backgrounds find connection and inspiration in each other. Where a fictional character’s homespun Christmas can provide, unlikely as it is, a strong sense of Jewish affirmation.
The scene ends with the family all singing a ballad called “Sweet Home.” Saccharine? Sure. But every holiday season, I think about Rose, and the home she found, and the different kind of home she and her family gave me. I hope if she could see my Hanukkah celebrations in return — warm candles, loud cousins, some mischief and much merriment — she’d feel the same.
The post My favorite Christmas scene in literature — and why it makes me feel so Jewish appeared first on The Forward.