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America at 250: Why the Jewish Story Is Central to the American Experiment
The US Capitol Building. Photo: Wikimedia Commons.
In 2026, the United States will mark its 250th anniversary. The semiquincentennial — “America 250,” as it is now branded — will bring speeches, exhibitions, curricula, and civic rituals meant to tell the nation’s story anew. Anniversaries of this scale are never only about the past. They are moments when a country decides what it remembers, what it forgets, and what it chooses to pass on.
This anniversary arrives at a moment of strain. Trust in institutions is low. National confidence is brittle. And American Jews are confronting a surge in antisemitism unmatched in a generation; on college campuses, in cultural institutions, in public discourse, and increasingly in everyday life. The ADL’s 2024 Audit of Antisemitic Incidents recorded 9,354 incidents across the United States, a record high and an 84% increase in campus incidents alone. Jews are harassed, excluded, and told, sometimes explicitly, that their place in American society is conditional.
All of this makes America 250 more than a commemorative exercise. It is a test of civic memory.
For American Jews, it is also a moment of responsibility. We must insist — clearly and without apology — that the Jewish story is not adjacent to the American story. It is central to it.
Jews did not come to America to escape its ideals. We came because of them. From the colonial era forward, the United States offered something rare in Jewish history: a political order that separated citizenship from theology, protected religious conscience, and allowed minorities to flourish without surrendering their identity. That promise was imperfectly realized, but it was real and Jews recognized it immediately. They responded not by retreating inward, but by investing outward, with loyalty, gratitude, and a deep sense of obligation.
Jews fought in the Revolutionary War. Haym Salomon, a Polish-born Jewish broker, helped finance George Washington’s army at a critical moment before the siege of Yorktown. Jewish congregations organized in the earliest years of the republic. Jewish leaders defended religious liberty not only for Jews, but for Catholics, Quakers, and others who stood outside Protestant majorities. Long before pluralism became a slogan, Jews lived it as a civic practice.
America did not make Jews invisible. It made Jewish life possible.
One small but telling example captures the larger story. Congregation Shearith Israel, founded in 1654 by Jews fleeing persecution in Brazil, predates the United States itself. Its members prayed under British rule, supported the American Revolution, and rebuilt after fires, wars, and waves of immigration. When George Washington wrote his 1790 letter affirming that the government of the United States “gives to bigotry no sanction,” he addressed it to a Jewish community already woven into the nation’s civic life. That congregation still exists today in Newport, Rhode Island, not as a relic, but as a living institution. Its continuity tells the story plainly: Jews did not pass through America. We helped build it, and we stayed.
Across every major sector of American life, Jewish contributions have been foundational rather than peripheral. In commerce and finance, Jewish entrepreneurs helped build the modern American economy. In science and medicine, Jewish researchers expanded knowledge, extended life, and strengthened public health. In law and jurisprudence, Jewish thinkers shaped constitutional interpretation and civil rights. In labor movements, philanthropy, journalism, arts, education, and higher learning, Jews helped construct the institutions that defined modern American life.
Jews helped build Hollywood and Broadway, the modern university and the modern hospital, the neighborhood synagogue and the national civil rights coalition. These were not side projects or accidents of success. They were expressions of a tradition that values learning, debate, moral responsibility, and communal obligation — and of a country that allowed those values to be lived openly.
This pattern matters. It reflects something deeper than achievement. American Jews are not simply a religious denomination or a demographic category. We are a people with history, memory, law, ritual, and continuity across generations. The United States is strong not because it erased such identities, but because it welcomed and integrated them into the civic fabric. The American experiment did not ask Jews to stop being a people. It asked only that we live as citizens. We did and we built.
Judaism itself helps explain why this worked. Jewish life and our traditions have never been merely a private matters of faith and practice. Being Jewish is a way of life rooted in law, learning, community, and moral obligation. America, uniquely, made space for that kind of religious seriousness without demanding conformity or erasure. This is why Jews have historically been among the strongest defenders of the First Amendment; not only its protections for speech, but its guarantees of free exercise and non-establishment. Religious liberty was not a concession to Jews. It was a shared civic principle that allowed Jews, Catholics, Protestants, and others to thrive together.
The American experiment worked because it assumed that difference, properly governed, strengthens rather than weakens a free society. Jews understood that intuitively and lived it daily.
Yet today, that shared understanding is fraying. In some quarters, Jews are once again treated as conditional citizens – valued for past contributions but suspect in the present. On campuses, Jewish identity is recast as political liability. In cultural spaces, Jewish history is selectively erased. In activist circles, Jews are told they belong only if they disavow their peoplehood, their history, or their connection to Israel.
This is not progress. It is dangerous regression.
Antisemitism thrives where civic memory collapses — where Jews are no longer seen as neighbors, builders, and fellow citizens, but as abstractions or intruders. It flourishes when America’s story is retold as a morality play of power rather than a hard-won experiment in pluralism, restraint, and mutual obligation.
This is why America 250 matters so much. How the nation tells its story will shape who is permitted to belong within it.
At a moment when American culture struggles to hold past and present together — when history is either sanctified or erased — Jewish peoplehood offers a different model. Jews are a people shaped by memory without paralysis, by argument without rupture, by continuity without uniformity. That sensibility is not incidental to Jewish success in America. It is precisely the kind of civic maturity the American experiment now requires. A nation that cannot tolerate Jewish peoplehood cannot long sustain pluralism at all.
The 250th anniversary of the United States must not become another exercise in national self-denunciation. Honest reckoning is necessary, but so is gratitude, pride, and recommitment. The American experiment succeeded not because it eliminated difference, but because it governed it. Jews did not succeed here by abandoning who they were. They succeeded by bringing Jewish law, learning, family life, debate, and moral obligation into public life without asking America to become Jewish, and without becoming less Jewish themselves.
The American experiment did not succeed despite Jewish peoplehood. It succeeded in part because the nation welcomed it.
At America’s 250th birthday, Jews should not shrink or whisper. We should teach, write, build, celebrate, and insist — calmly but firmly — on our place in the national story. We are not guests in America. We are not beneficiaries of temporary tolerance. We are not outsiders who happened to succeed.
We are Americans by conviction, by contribution, and by covenant.
The Jewish story is woven into America’s freedoms, institutions, culture, and moral vocabulary. To deny that is not only to misunderstand Jewish history. It is to misunderstand America itself.
And one thing must be said just as clearly: the hatred must stop. Not because Jews are fragile. Not because we are afraid. But because antisemitism is incompatible with the American experiment itself.
America works when citizens see one another as partners in a shared project. Jews have been partners since the beginning. We have helped this nation grow and we will continue to do so.
This is not a demand for recognition; it is a recognition already written into the American story.
Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.
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Irish Jews report 143 antisemitic incidents in 6 months through a new reporting system
(JTA) — Jews in Ireland reported over 100 antisemitic incidents through a communal reporting system within six months after it launched, according to a new report.
The findings published early Monday by the Jewish Representative Council of Ireland constitute the first attempt to document antisemitic incidents in Ireland.
Irish Jews, a small community of about 2,200, reported 143 incidents between July 2025 and January 2026. These were dominated by verbal abuse, vandalism, threats, exclusion or discrimination and direct digital hate messages. Physical assault was less common, with only three instances reported.
All incidents were self-reported to the JRCI, which cannot independently investigate or adjudicate them. Ireland does not have an official state mechanism for recording antisemitic incidents, the group said. And while the police record hate crimes based on nationality, ethnicity or religion, they do not isolate crimes motivated by antisemitism.
The JRCI said that 30% of incidents were triggered by cues of Jewish identity or Israeli origin, such as a Jewish symbol, an accent or speaking Hebrew in public. Such patterns often crossed the boundaries of hate driven by nationality, ethnicity and religion.
“These dynamics cannot be adequately addressed through generalized anti-racism frameworks alone,” JRCI chair Maurice Cohen said in a statement. “Antisemitism presents distinct characteristics requiring targeted policy responses.”
Cohen called for “a dedicated, standalone national plan to combat antisemitism in Ireland.”
Of the reported incidents, 25 included “Holocaust distortion” or antisemitic conspiracy theories. These findings add to a Claims Conference survey in January, which said that 9% of Irish adults believed the Holocaust was a myth, while another 17% believed the number of Jews killed had been greatly exaggerated. Half of Irish adults did not know that 6 million Jews were killed in the Holocaust.
At the same time, a November 2025 survey by the European Commission surfaced broad recognition of antisemitism in Ireland. 41% of respondents said that antisemitism was a problem in the country and 47% said it had increased over the past five years.
At a ceremony for International Holocaust Remembrance Day in January, Ireland’s taoiseach (or prime minister) Micheál Martin said, “I am acutely conscious that our Jewish community here in Ireland is experiencing a growing level of antisemitism. I know that elements of our public discourse has coarsened.”
Martin has strenuously criticized Israel’s actions in Gaza, saying at the United Nations last year that Israel committed genocide and demonstrated “an abandonment of all norms, all international rules and law.” Catherine Connolly, a socialist politician who has faced backlash for saying Hamas is “part of the fabric of the Palestinian people,” was elected as Ireland’s president in October.
Ireland has historically supported the Palestinians, a stance often linked to the country’s own history of British imperial rule, and formally recognized a Palestinian state in 2024.
In Martin’s Holocaust commemoration speech, he also condemned the most recent event to inflame the Irish Jewish community. Late last year, a proposal to rename Herzog Park in Dublin — named for Chaim Herzog, the son of the first Irish chief rabbi who became Israel’s sixth president in 1983 — was decried by Irish Jews who said it would erase Irish Jewish history. The proposal was later tabled.
Martin, who also denounced the proposal when it was active, said the Jewish community “has every right to be deeply concerned and to express that concern.”
Gideon Taylor, president of the World Jewish Restitution Organization and an Irish Jew who grew up in Dublin, said the JRCI report showed a picture of antisemitic incidents that were separate from “a debate about the policies of Israel or a debate about the Palestinian state.”
“When you have discontinuation of service because somebody is heard speaking Hebrew, or has a Jewish-identifying symbol on them, that’s not about a political position on the spectrum towards Israel,” said Taylor. “That’s something that crosses into antisemitism.”
Ireland’s chief rabbi Yoni Wieder said the report reflected experiences he already heard from his congregants.
“The report does not claim that antisemitism has become a daily reality for all Jewish people in Ireland — it has not,” said Wieder. “What it does show is that antisemitism surfaces often enough, and in ordinary enough settings, that it cannot be dismissed as rare or confined to the margins of society. This means that for many, Jewish belonging in Ireland feels more fragile than it should.”
The post Irish Jews report 143 antisemitic incidents in 6 months through a new reporting system appeared first on The Forward.
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Yet again, Israel’s public shelters become sites of camaraderie amid steep danger
(JTA) — TEL AVIV — Spirits ran high inside a large public bomb shelter in the Israeli coastal city of Jaffa, with loud chatter, singing and greetings of “Happy Iran Holiday,” an incongruous soundtrack to the joint U.S.-Israeli strike on Iran and the hundreds of missiles that followed.
The room itself looked much cheerier than most shelters, with a ball pit and bright Gymboree mattresses left over from its other job in peacetime, when it doubles as a kindergarten.
A day earlier, the shelter became the accidental venue for a bar mitzvah celebration, when worshipers from the synagogue across the road took refuge there.
One particularly raucous group was made up mostly of American-Israelis from the neighborhood. One of them, Steph Graber, said she was in a good mood despite being exhausted from middle-of-the-night runs to the shelter.
“I’m not sure why, maybe it’s the adrenaline of war or something,” she said on Sunday morning. “But also it’s amazing to see the U.S. and Israel as allies working together to reduce the threat from Iran.”
Graber said she had been sheltering elsewhere but had “FOMO” about not being with her friends, so she switched over in the brief lull between sirens.
Martine Berkowitz, a friend of Graber’s, also said the community around her was what made the disruption feel manageable. Sirens kept interrupting even basic tasks, she said, including her attempt to take a shower, which she tried five times.
“My friends live on my corner, so I’m doing great. We’re all together all the time,” she said. During the last Iran flare-up in June, she didn’t have that kind of built-in circle nearby, she said. “Being alone then was really rough.”
The mood wasn’t confined to Jaffa. Across the country, similar scenes played out in shelters and spread on social media, including one from Nachlaot in Jerusalem of people singing “For the Jews There was Light and Joy,” a Purim song marking the story’s turn after Haman’s plot to kill the Jews was thwarted. The parallel to the current moment, as the Jews once again sought to topple a Persian rule who had called for their death, was not lost on anyone.
In a sprawling underground parking lot turned shelter at Dizengoff Center in central Tel Aviv, Shabbat prayers gave way to dancing and songs of “Don’t Be Afraid, Oh Israel” and “Am Yisrael Chai.” Saul Sadka, who was there, posted a video of the revelers, captioning it “joy and stoicism.”
Sadka later said he was struck by the “sense of solidarity,” and noted that it was Shabbat Zachor, when Jews read the passage about Amalek, a nemesis that they are commanded never to forget. “People seem willing to suffer for a while if it means the defeat of the IRGC,” he said.
Another bomb shelter in Tel Aviv struck a less pious tone, turning into a makeshift night club with red lights, a DJ and people dancing.
In one video, one of hundreds of comedic shelter clips circulating online, a comedian quipped, “The nation of Israel lives” — but only as long as the shelter “has wifi and the iPads have battery.”
Natalie Silverlieb was in the mamak, the communal reinforced safe room on her building’s floor. She said the logistics of repeated alerts had become harder since she became a mother.
“Doing this with a baby is crazy,” she said. The room was packed, including other babies and dogs, and she and her partner tried to follow a system that would get their baby back to sleep quickly.
“I’m so, so, so exhausted,” she said. “When I was doing this on my own the last time, I could at least come back to my apartment and just lay on the couch. But now there’s no laying on the couch. It’s go, go, go.”
For Silverlieb, the uncertainty of the past few weeks hadn’t disappeared so much as changed shape. “The waiting for it to end is more stressful than the waiting for it to begin,” she said. “I just hope it ends quickly. It’s a lot, period.”
In a nearby grocery store, another siren, the 30th or so in as many hours, sent shoppers scrambling. In the residential building next door, the shelter downstairs was decrepit and doorless. Children played limbo with a strip of red cloth. One woman began pitching HAAT, a new, mostly Arab-run delivery service she said was giving Wolt a run for its money. A few people pulled out their phones to download the app, trading jokes about whether it would deliver to shelters, and during sirens. Because it is Ramadan, Muslims in Israel are doubly on edge, from fasting on top of the missiles.
Sasha, who lives in the building, said she was “half happy” the waiting was over. The repeated dashes up and down the stairs, she joked, were at least getting her to her daily goal of 10,000 steps. Still, she said, it “won’t help us if the [Iranian] regime doesn’t fall.”
A Ukrainian who grew up under Soviet rule, taught her what it meant to live without freedom, she said. “We want to see the Iranian people free and a better Middle East for everyone.”
Evyatar said he doubted the regime would fall “unless the Iranian citizens themselves finish the job.”
Ma’or, another neighbor, said he would “happily sit in my bomb shelter if it meant giving my Iranian friends, both in Iran and out, a chance at a normal life.” He pointed to a friend in Tehran who works as a tattoo artist, an illegal trade under the regime.
“I mean, he’s not even free to give someone a tattoo without going underground,” he said. “I’m baffled by the people cheering [on] the IRGC. People who say this war is illegal are out of their goddamn minds.”
Evyatar said he began Saturday uneasy, but grew calmer as the hours passed and he gauged the pattern of the strikes. The alerts came far more often than the 12-day war, but the blasts felt less intense. “At the beginning I felt scared, like it was June all over again.” Over time, he said, he has learned to tell the difference between the sounds of interceptions, shrapnel and direct impacts.
As he spoke, a loud boom hit outside, rattling the shelter and stopping the conversation. “That, for example, was a June sound,” he said.
It turned out to be shrapnel coming down not far away. The impact was part of a wider series of strikes across central Israel, including one that turned lethal in Beit Shemesh, west of Jerusalem, when a public bomb shelter was hit. Nine people were killed including multiple from the same family. Dozens more were wounded, and others still were unaccounted for.
In Beit Shemesh, the strike changed the atmosphere in a city that had so far heard only occasional sirens, during both this round and the last one.
Netanel Alkoby, a Beit Shemesh resident who spent 12 years in the reserves with the Home Front Command, said he has always taken alerts seriously, but that over time a degree of complacency still set in. The strike, he said, “changed our perspective a lot,” forcing him to be more careful, more on guard, and to treat every warning “with the utmost seriousness.”
In the underground shelter at Wolfson Medical Center in Holon, a sign overhead read “the safest shelter in existence.” Patients hobbled in, some with casts and crutches. With doctors also sheltering there, patients used the moment to buttonhole them with questions.
One staffer watched a line of women form to speak to a physician. “Poor thing, he can’t even enjoy the siren in peace,” she said.
Back in the central Jaffa shelter, a couple in black leather and dark glasses stood apart from the banter around them.
“Any fear and terror that Israeli citizens are feeling right now is a direct result of this violent racist Islamophobic power hungry greedy fascist government,” said the woman, who declined to give her name, referring to the Netanyahu-led coalition.
Asked whether she thought attacking Iran was a bad idea, she said: “I think it’s a bad idea to attack anyone in 2026. We teach toddlers not to fight and here we have fully grown men doing this, dooming all of us.”
“It’s time we take the power from aging white men,” she said.
Nearby, Martine Berkowitz agreed — in part. “Yep, they are behaving like toddlers. And they are aging white men. Who are fighting evil brown men. If it brings freedom to Iran then it was worth it. But if it doesn’t, then it was all for nothing.”
The post Yet again, Israel’s public shelters become sites of camaraderie amid steep danger appeared first on The Forward.
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Netanyahu: ‘Our Forces Are Striking the Heart of Tehran With Increasing Strength’
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu participates in the state memorial ceremony for the fallen of the Iron Swords War on Mount Herzl, in Jerusalem, Oct. 16, 2025. Photo: Alex Kolomoisky/Pool via REUTERS
i24 News – Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu stated that Israeli forces had “eliminated the dictator Ali Khamenei” along with dozens of senior officials of Iran’s regime during a statement delivered from the roof of the Kirya, Israel’s defense headquarters.
“Yesterday, we eliminated the dictator Khamenei. Along with him, dozens of senior officials from the oppressive regime were eliminated,” Netanyahu said after a meeting with the Minister of Defense, the Chief of Staff, and the Director of Mossad. He added that he had issued instructions to continue the offensive.
According to Netanyahu, Israeli forces are “now striking at the heart of Tehran with increasing intensity,” a campaign he said will “increase further in the days to come.”
The Prime Minister also acknowledged the toll of the conflict on Israel, calling recent days “painful” and offering condolences to the families of victims in Tel Aviv and Beit Shemesh, while wishing a speedy recovery to those injured.
Netanyahu emphasized that the operation mobilizes “the full power of the Israel Defense Forces, like never before,” in order to “guarantee our existence and our future.” He also highlighted US support, noting “the assistance of my friend, the President of the United States, Donald Trump, and of the American military.”
“This combination of forces allows us to do what I have hoped to accomplish for 40 years: strike the terrorist regime right in the face,” Netanyahu concluded. “I promised it — and we will keep our word.”