Uncategorized
American Jews created historic summer camps. Or did summer camps create American Jews?
(JTA) — Among Sandra Fox’s most memorable finds during her years mining American archives for materials about Jewish summer camps was a series of letters about the hours before lights-out.
The letters were by counselors who were documenting an unusual window in the day when they stopped supervising campers, leaving the teens instead to their own devices, which sometimes included romance and sexual exploration.
“It was each division talking about how they dealt with that free time before bed in ‘age-appropriate ways,’” Fox recalled about the letters written by counselors at Camp Ramah in Wisconsin, the original iteration of the Conservative movement’s network of summer camps.
“I’ve spoken to Christian people who work at Christian camps and have researched Christian camps. There is no free time before bed,” Fox told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “That’s not a thing if you don’t want kids to hook up. So it was just amazing to find these documents of Camp Ramah leaders really having the conversation explicitly. Most of the romance and sexuality stuff is implicit in the archives.”
The letters are quoted extensively in Fox’s new book, “The Jews of Summer: Summer Camp and Jewish Culture in Postwar America.” Fox, who earned a PhD in history from New York University in 2018 and now teaches and directs the Archive of the American Jewish Left there, tells the story of American Judaism’s most immersive laboratory for constructing identity and contesting values.
Next week, Fox is launching the book with an event at Congregation Beth Elohim in Park Slope, Brooklyn. (Tickets for the Feb. 23 event are available here.) Attendees will be able to tour adult versions of some of the most durable elements of Jewish summer camps, from Israeli dance to Yiddish and Hebrew instruction to Color Wars to Tisha B’Av, the mournful holiday that always falls over the summer.
“I never considered doing a normal book party,” Fox said. “It was always really obvious to me that a book about experiential Jewish education and role play should be celebrated and launched out into the world through experiential education and role play.”
Sandra Fox’s 2023 book “The Jews of Summer,” looks at the history of American Jewish summer camps. (Courtesy of Fox)
We spoke to Fox about her party plans, how Jewish summer camps have changed over time and how they’ve stayed the same, and the cultural history of that before-bed free time.
This interview has been condensed and lightly edited for clarity. We’ll be continuing the conversation in a virtual chat through the YIVO Institute for Jewish Research Feb. 27 at 1 p.m.; register here.
Jewish Telegraphic Agency: Given how much Jews like to talk about camp, were you surprised that this book hadn’t already been written?
Sandra Fox: There’s been a lot of fruitful research on the history of various camps, but it’s usually been focused on one camping movement or one camp type. So there are articles about Zionist camps. There are certainly articles out there about the Ramah camps. A lot of camps have produced books — either their alumni associations or a scholar who went to let’s say, Reform movement camps have created essay collections about those camps. And there are also books about Habonim and other Zionist youth movements.
I don’t really know why this is the first stab at this kind of cross-comparison. It might be that people didn’t think there would be so much to compare. I think the overwhelming feeling I get from readers so far, people who preordered and gotten their books early, is that they’re very surprised to hear how similar these camps are. So perhaps it’s that scholars weren’t thinking about Jewish summer camps that came from such diverse standpoints as having something enough in common to write about them all at once.
Also distance from the time period really helps. You can write a book about — and people do write a book about — the ’60s and ’70s and have been for decades, but there’s a certain amount of distance from the period that has allowed me to do this, I think, and maybe it also helps that I’m generationally removed. A lot of the scholars who’ve worked on camps in the postwar period went to camps in the postwar period. It makes a lot of sense that it would be harder to write this sort of sweeping thing perhaps. The fact that I’m a millennial meant that I could write about the postwar period — and also write kind of an epilogue-style chapter that catches us up to the present.
What’s clear is that there’s something amazing about studying summer camp, a completely immersive 24/7 experience that parents send children away for. There’s no better setting for thinking about how adults project their anxieties and desires about the future onto children. There’s also no place better to think about power dynamics and age and generational tension.
I was definitely struck by the “sameyness” of Jewish camps in your accounting. What do you think we can learn from that, either about camps or about us as Jews?
I do want to say that while there’s a lot of sameyness, whenever you do a comparative study, there’s a risk of kind of collapsing all these things and making them seem too similar. What I’m trying to convey is that the camp leaders from a variety of movements took the basic structure of the summer camp as we know it — its daily schedule, its environment, its activities — and it did look similar from camp to camp, at least on that surface level.
If you look at the daily schedules in comparison, they might have a lot of the same features but they’ll be called slightly different things depending on if the camp leans more heavily towards Hebrew, or Yiddish, or English. But the content within those schedules would be rather different. It’s more that the skeletal structure of camp life has a lot of similarities across the board and then the details within each section of the day or the month had a lot of differences.
But I think what it says is that in the postwar period, the anxieties that Jewish leaders had about the future of Judaism are really, really similar and the solution that they found within the summer camp, they were pretty unanimous about. They just then took the model and inserted within it their particular nationalistic, linguistic or religious perspectives. So I think more so than saying anything about American Jewry, it shows kind of how flexible camping is. And that’s not just the Jewish story. Lots of different Americans have embraced summer camping in different ways.
So many people who have gone to camp have a fixed memory of what camp is like, where it’s caught in time, but you argue that camps have actually undergone lots of change. What are the most striking changes you documented, perhaps ones that might have been hard for even insiders to discern as they happened?
First of all, the Israel-centeredness of American Jewish education as we know it today didn’t happen overnight in 1948, for instance. It was a slower process, beyond the Zionist movements where that was already going on, for decades before 1948. Ramah and the Reform camps for instance took their time towards getting to the heavily Zionist-imbued curricula that we know.
There was considerable confusion and ambivalence at first about what to do with Israel: whether to raise an Israeli flag, not because they were anti-Zionist, but because American Jews had been thinking about proving their loyalty to America for many generations. There were some sources that would talk about — what kind of right do American Jews have to raise the Israeli flag when they’re not Israeli? So that kind of Israel-centeredness that is really a feature of camp life today was a slower process than we might think.
It fit camp life really well because broader American camps used Native American symbols, in some ways that are problematic today, to create what we know of as an iconography of camp life. So for Jews, Israel and its iconography, or Palestine and iconography before ’48, provided an alternative set of options that were read as Jewish, but it still took some time to get to where we are now in terms of the Israel focus.
One of the reasons I place emphasis on the Yiddish summer camps is to show that in the early 20th century and the mid-20th century there was more ideological diversity in the Jewish camping sphere, including various forms of Yiddishist groups and socialist groups and communist groups that operated summer camps. Most of them have closed, and their decline is obviously a change that tells a story of how American Jewry changed over the course of the postwar period. Their legacy is important, too: I have made the argument that these camps in a lot of ways modeled the idea of Yiddish as having a future in America.
What about hookup culture? Contemporary discourse about Jewish camps have focused on sex and sexuality there. What did you observe about this in the archives?
I think people think of the hookup culture of Jewish camps today and certainly in my time in the ’90s and 2000s as a permanent feature, and in some ways I found through my research and oral history interviews that that was the case, but it was really interesting to zoom out a little bit and think about how Jewish summer camps changed in terms of sexual romantic culture, in relationship to how America changed with the sexual revolution and the youth culture.
It’s not it’s not useful to think about Jewish hookup culture in a vacuum. It’s happening within America more broadly. And so of course, it’s changed dramatically over time. And one of the things I learned that was so fascinating is that Jewish summer camps were actually their leaders were less concerned in a lot of ways about sexuality at camp in the ’40s and ’50s, than they were in the late ’60s and ’70s. Because earlier premarital sex was pretty rare, at least in the teenage years, so they were not that concerned about what happened after lights out because they kind of assumed whatever was going on was fairly innocent.
In the late 1960s and 1970s, that’s when camps have to actually think about how to balance allowance and control. They want to allow campers to have these relationships, to have their first sexual experiences, and part of that is related to rising rates of intermarriage and wanting to encourage love between Jews, but they also want to control it because there’s a broader societal moment in which the sexuality of teenagers is problematized and their and their sexual culture is more public.
There’s been a real wave of sustained criticism by former campers about the cultures that they experienced, arguing that the camps created an inappropriately sexualized and unsafe space. There’s been a lot of reaction to that and the broader #MeToo moment. I’m curious about what you can speculate about a future where that space is cleaned up, based on your historical research — what is gained and what, potentially, could be lost?
Without being involved in camping today — and I want to really make that disclaimer because I know a lot of change is happening and lot of organizations are involved to talk about this issue better, to train camps and camp leaders and their counselors to not create a pressured environment for camper — I think what the history shows is that this hookup culture did not come about out of nowhere. It was partly related to the broader changes in America and the sexual revolution.
But it was also partly created because camps really needed to have campers’ buy-in, in order to be “successful.” A huge argument of my book is that we think about the power of camps as if camp directors have campers as, like, puppets on strings, and that what they do is what happens in camp life. But actually, campers have changed the everyday texture of life at camp over the course of the decades in so many different ways by resisting various ideas or just not being interested.
So hookup culture is also part of making campers feel like they have freedom at camp and that’s essential. That’s not a side project — that is essential to their ability to get campers to come back. It’s a financial need, and it’s an ideological need. If you make campers feel like they have freedom, then they will feel like they freely took on the ideologies your camp is promoting in a really natural way.
The last part of it is rising rates of intermarriage. As rates of intermarriage rose in the second half of the 20th century, there’s no doubt in my mind from doing the research that the preexisting culture around sexuality at camp and romance at camp got turbo-boosted [to facilitate relationships that could potentially lead to marriage between two Jews]. At that point, the allowance and control that camp leaders were trying to create for many decades leans maybe more heavily towards allowance.
There are positives to camp environments being a place where campers can explore their sexualities. There’s definitely a lot of conversation about the negative effects and those are all very, very real. I know people who went through horrible things at a camp and I also know people who experienced it as a very sex-positive atmosphere. I know people in my age range who were able to discover that they were gay or lesbian at camp in safety in comparison to home, so it’s not black and white at all. I hope that my chapter on romance and sexuality can maybe add some historical nuance to the conversation and give people a sense of how this actually happened. Because it happened for a whole bunch of reasons.
I think there’s a consensus view that camp is one of the most “successful” things the Jews do. But it’s hard to see where lessons from camp or camp culture are being imported to the rest of Jewish life. I’m curious what you see as kind of the lessons that Jewish institutions or Jewish communities have taken from camp — or have they not done that?
Every single public engagement I do about my work has boiled down to the question of, well, does it work? Does camp work? Is it successful? And that’s been a question that a lot of social scientists have been interested in. I don’t want to oversimplify that research, but a lot of the ways that they’ve measured success have been things that are not necessarily a given to all Jews as obviously the right way to be a Jew. So, for instance, in the ’90s and early 2000s, at the very least, a lot of research was about how, you know, “XYZ” camp and youth movement were successfully curbing intermarriage. A lot of them also asked campers and former campers how they feel about Israel, and it’s always if they are supportive of Israel in very normative ways, right, giving money visiting, supporting Israel or lobbying for its behalf — then camps have been successful.
I’m not interested in whether camps were successful by those metrics. I’m interested in how we got to the idea that camp should be successful in those ways in the first place. How did we get to those kinds of normative assumptions of like, this is a good Jew; a good Jew marries a Jew; a good Jew supports Israel, no matter what. So what I wanted to do is zoom out from that question of success and show how camp actually functions.
And then the question of “does it work” is really up to the reader. To people who believe that curbing intermarriage is the most important thing, then camps have been somewhat successful in the sense that people who go to these heavily educational camps are less likely to marry out of the faith.
But I am more interested in what actually happened at camp. And in terms of their legacies, I wanted to show how they changed various aspects of American Jewish life, and religion and politics. So I was really able to find how camping was essential in making kind of an Israel-centered Jewish education the norm. I was also able to draw a line between these Yiddish camps over the ’60s and ’70s that closed in the ’80s and contemporary Yiddish. The question of success is a real tricky and political one in a way that a lot of people have not talked about.
And is camp also fun? Because you’re creating a camp experience for your book launch next week.
Camp is fun — for a lot of people. Camp was not fun for everyone. And so I do want to play with that ambivalence at the party, and acknowledge that and also acknowledge that some people loved camp when they were younger and have mixed feelings about it now.
The party is not really a celebration of Jewish summer camp. People will be drinking and having fun and dancing — but I want them to be thinking while also about what is going on and why. How is Tisha B’Av [the fast day that commemorates the destruction of the ancient Jewish temple in Jerusalem that falls at the height of summer] commemorated at camp, for example?
Or what songs are we singing and what do they mean? I think a lot of people when they’re little kids, they learn songs in these Jewish summer camps that they can’t understand and later they maybe learn Hebrew and go, whoa, we were singing what?! My example from Zionist summer camp is singing “Ein Li Eretz Acheret,” or “I Have No Other Country.” We were in America and we obviously have another country! I don’t think anyone in my youth movement actually believes the words “Ein Li Eretz Acheret” because we live in America and people tend to kind of like living in America and most of them do not move to Israel.
So at the party we’ll be working through the fun of it, and at the same time the confusion of it and the ambivalence of it. I want it to be fun, and I also want it to be something that causes people to think.
—
The post American Jews created historic summer camps. Or did summer camps create American Jews? appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
California lawmakers pass bills to address antisemitism, deem ‘Jewish’ an ethnicity, and protect religious observance
(JTA) — California is poised to become the first state to deem “Jewish” an ethnic and racial identity, after lawmakers gave final approval to the groundbreaking legislation on Monday.
The SB 1387 bill, which would expand the definition of ethnicity “to include Jewish identity” in demographic data collection, will now head to the governor’s desk. If the legislation becomes law, state agency forms that allow for voluntary disclosures of ethnicity or race would also need to offer a “Jewish” option.
Both the State Assembly and Senate granted final approval to the bill in the last few hours of California’s 2026 legislative session, which concludes at the end of the day on Monday. Gov. Gavin Newsom, a Democrat, has until Sept. 30 to sign bills into laws or veto them.
The SB 1387 ethnicity legislation has been a priority among many California Jewish organizations, who argue that Jewish peoplehood should be connected to much more than just religion — and that the law should reflect that understanding.
This bill, which would take effect in 2030, would affect forms issued by agencies ranging from public schools to unemployment offices to prisons. Data collected would serve to inform research initiatives, identify disparities and guide policy decisions, while banning the disclosure of personal information, per the bill.
Joining SB 1387 in heading to the governor’s desk are five other bills that are relevant to the state’s 1.2 million Jews and that had the support of the Jewish California coalition.
On Sunday, the legislature passed AB 1853, a bill that bars threatening false and misleading information from California voter guides. Jewish California, which represents 43 organizations, praised the legislation’s advancement, stressing that 54 Jewish groups voiced their support for the bill within 48 hours of its introduction.
“Hate speech does not belong in a state-approved document paid by tax dollars,” David Bocarsly, CEO of Jewish California, said in a statement.
“AB 1853 boldly declares that our state’s official election documents can’t be used to spread conspiracy theories and bigotry,” added Bocarsly, whose coalition was not only a sponsor of this bill but also of SB 1387.
Also on Sunday, lawmakers approved AB 2664, the Safe Worship Zone Act, which would create a 100-foot zone around the entrances of houses of worship, where no one would be able to come within 8 feet of a congregant without their consent.
The bill, which received the backing of a wide-ranging interfaith coalition, is modeled after Colorado’s bubble zone law that offers patients protection around reproductive health clinics.
“The rise of antisemitism is undeniable, and our communities must be protected,” Democratic Assemblymember Rebecca Bauer-Kahan, the bill’s author, said in a statement.
“AB 2664 gives communities an important tool to push back against harassment and intimidation and protect the sanctity of our houses of worship,” Bauer-Kahan added.
Meanwhile, on Thursday, the legislature approved AB 395, which would require government agencies, K-12 schools and public universities to avoid scheduling major events or meetings on days “that members of the public would be unable to participate or be present due to the ritual observance of a religious, cultural, or ancestral holiday.”
Among the Jewish observances that would be codified on a list of such holidays are Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and the first and last two days of Passover.
“For too long and in too many communities, religious minorities and other people of faith have been asked to make difficult choices on the days that matter most to them,” Democratic Assemblymember Jesse Gabriel, the bill’s author, said in a statement.
“This legislation would help to prevent that injustice and ensure that Californians of all backgrounds can fully participate, particularly when important decisions are being made,” added Gabriel, who chairs the California Legislative Jewish Caucus.
Lawmakers on Thursday also approved another Gabriel bill, AB 1836, which seeks to close a gap in the current structure of the California State Nonprofit Security Grant Program. Because the program allocates security funds only for a nonprofit’s physical building, off-site events like menorah lightings on Chanukah were not eligible.
A fifth bill relevant to the Jewish community, AB 1763, is also heading to Newsom’s desk, after passing in the legislature last Tuesday. This bill would include religious holiday observance as a type of excused absence in schools, without requiring a written request from a parent or guardian.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post California lawmakers pass bills to address antisemitism, deem ‘Jewish’ an ethnicity, and protect religious observance appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Massachusetts progressive Markey, a longtime Israel critic, expected to rout centrist challenger
(JTA) — Massachusetts incumbent and Israel critic Sen. Ed Markey, 80, is expected to handily fend off the more moderate 47-year-old Rep. Seth Moulton on Tuesday, in the state’s Democratic Senate primary.
Although polls project that Markey, a progressive stalwart, will retain his seat, this race began as a neck-and-neck battle between the old and new guard. Yet in contrast to many recent primaries, the junior candidate in this case is the more centrist of the two.
If current numbers hold, Markey could go from leading Moulton by just single digits two months ago, to trouncing him by 30 percentage points. The incumbent recently “opened a large lead,” with the University of New Hampshire’s Bay State Poll projecting a 63% to 28% victory. That’s a dramatic shift from June, when the survey estimated a 41% to 35% margin. Since then, according to Bay State, Moulton lost moderate support while Markey consolidated socialist and progressive backing.
The University of Massachusetts Amherst offered similar predictions, placing Markey far ahead of his competitor, 60% to 32%. Emerson College Polling, meanwhile, showed a comparable lead for Markey, with the incumbent at 60% and Moulton at 33%.
“At the end of the day, one of the reasons for Moulton’s flame-out is that he had no case to make other than ‘I’m younger than Ed Markey,’” Jeff Robbins, a Boston-based attorney and former Senate investigative counsel, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
“He wasn’t able to obscure that very well,” added Robbins, who also served as delegate to the United Nations Human Rights Commission under President Bill Clinton. He also began organizing rallies in support of Israel in 2012, during his time serving as chairman of the New England Board of the Anti-Defamation League.
Markey began serving in the U.S. House of Representatives 50 years ago, staying in that role until he was elected to the Senate in 2013. During his time in the House, he was a member of the Congressional Progressive Caucus, and in the Senate, he has voted for multiple resolutions aimed at cutting military aid and munitions sales to Israel.
Moulton, meanwhile, was born two years after Markey arrived on Capitol Hill. He has been serving in the U.S. House since 2015 and has been critical of both the Democratic socialist agenda and the aging establishment, instead calling for “new energy, new ideas and leaders willing to put people over politics.”
He established the Serve America PAC in 2017 to support the campaigns of “military veterans, other service-driven candidates and next generation leaders” in the 2020 election cycle. The Boston Globe recently threw its support behind Moulton, calling for “new vision and vigor” in “an aging, ailing and deeply unpopular Democratic Party.”
Yet a recent New York Times piece described Moulton as a “rebel without a cause,” who has “tried to drift where he thinks the political winds are blowing.” One such drift relates to his breakup with the American Israel Public Affairs Committee last October, when he announced that he would be “returning AIPAC donations and refusing to accept any donations or support from them.”
“In recent years AIPAC has aligned itself too closely with Prime Minister Netanyahu’s government,” Moulton said. “I’m a friend of Israel, but not of its current government.”
Track AIPAC, a group that documents political spending by pro-Israel lobbies, declared in response that “returning AIPAC’s blood money is better late than never.” The group demanded that Moulton call the war in Gaza a genocide and “stop writing blank checks” to Israel’s “tyrannical regime.”
Citing Federal Election Commission records, Track AIPAC found that pro-Israel PACs have spent about $101,500 on Moulton over his career — a relatively modest amount for a six-term congressman..
“It is clearly the safe thing to do, if you are running for a nomination in the Democratic Party, to aggressively distance yourself from Israel,” said Robbins.
He described the situation as “reflective of the reality that we have seen play out in spades over the last year,” in which Democratic candidates are “running for the hills about AIPAC and treating it as a boogeyman.”
Not only was Moulton’s decision insufficient to recruit AIPAC detractors to his campaign, but it also rattled many members of the Jewish community.
Political scientist Samuel Abrams at the time described the decision as “the moment when an ambitious, mainstream Democrat concluded that distancing himself from the organized Jewish community is a political asset, not a liability.”
“In today’s Democratic ecosystem, the act of rejecting traditional Jewish institutions has become a badge of progressive credibility,” wrote Abrams, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute, a center-right public policy think tank.
David Frum, a writer for The Atlantic and former speechwriter for President George W. Bush, suggested that Moulton was “opening the door *just a little* to anti-Jewish feeling,” In other words, Moulton would seek to win his primary by borrowing some “Mamdani energy,” Frum added, referring to the popular progressive mayor of New York City, Zohran Mamdani.
“If you want to have a prayer of being elected in a Democratic primary in this country, you had better be able to say, ‘I don’t take money from AIPAC. In fact, I never heard of it before,’” Robbins said.
But he stressed Moulton’s 30-point lag in the polls has nothing to do with Israel and everything to do with his opponent’s political shrewdness and refusal to allow anyone “to run to the left of him.”
Markey is not new to staving off a younger, center-left candidate. In 2020, at 74, he defeated the then-39-year-old Rep. Joe Kennedy III — marking the first loss for a Kennedy in a Massachusetts election, according to the Cook Political Report.
If the current polls prove accurate, Tuesday’s race could “mirror Markey’s successful ‘peak-late’ approach to winning in 2020,” Spencer Kimball, executive director of Emerson College Polling, said in a statement. “Younger voters appear more likely than older voters to support Markey, suggesting the campaign did not create the generational divide Moulton may have anticipated.”
As for Moulton’s relationship toward American Jews, he has historically denounced hate crimes and voted for resolutions on antisemitism. He also condemned Claudine Gay, former president of his alma mater, Harvard University, when she refused to say that calling for the genocide of Jews would violate the institution’s code of conduct.
Prior to his rejection of AIPAC money, Moulton’s stance on Israel was fairly balanced, with consistent messages on Israel’s right to defend itself, alongside criticisms of the country’s military operations in Gaza and calls for expansions of humanitarian aid.
Moulton’s objections have paled in comparison to Markey’s stance, which has ranged from demanding an end to arms sales to accusing the country of committing war crimes.
Markey did condemn Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023 attack on Israel as terrorism, continuing to deplore the “dark day” as “heinous” in a statement two years later. But in that same statement, he also stressed that “more than 65,000 Palestinians have lost their lives in the brutality of the war in Gaza” and called “to stop the bloodshed.”
However, the senator didn’t always disapprove of Israel.
“For a long time he was right there with the Jewish community,” Barry Shrage, a professor of practice at Brandeis University and the longtime former president of the Combined Jewish Philanthropies of Greater Boston, told JTA.
In fact, Shrage and Robbins recalled in a recent Boston Herald column that during a November 2012 Hamas-Israel conflict, Markey asked them to help him organize a pro-Israel rally. The event, they wrote, was “full of appreciation for the fundamental fact that Israel is surrounded by non-state and state actors committed to annihilating it.”
But less than two years later, the tides had turned. After winning a 2013 special election to serve out the remainder of John Kerry’s Senate term, Markey then faced a general election in 2014 for a full Senate term. That summer, Hamas rockets rained down on Israel again, and the military responded to the attacks, as it did in November 2012.
Robbins said that when he and his colleagues decided to organize another rally in support of Israel at the time, he reached out to Markey.
“He ducks. He dodges. He doesn’t return the phone calls. He doesn’t return the emails,” Robbins recalled. “He had calculated correctly that it was not in his interest to have anything to do with Israel anymore.”
Shrage echoed these sentiments, observing that “it turned out to be at least from a political standpoint, if not from a moral standpoint, the right path.”
“It’s not a surprise that Markey is separating himself from Israel in every way that he can,” he added.
Looking toward the future, Shrage said that he had some hope for a turnaround on Israel in the Democratic party if, perhaps, a recent progressive primary winner lost against a Republican in the general election. Some possible examples could include Senate candidates Angie Nixon in Florida or Abdul El-Sayed in Michigan.
While Robbins agreed that a loss for El-Sayed could give a slight bump to Democratic supporters of Israel, he was pessimistic about the long-term ability to reverse the party’s increasing hostility toward the Jewish state.
“The only conceivable trigger for a walking back of this trend would be some massacre of Israelis so terrible that even the left would have to concede that Israel had the right to do what it did,” Robbins said.
“The problem with that is, it’s already occurred,” he added.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Massachusetts progressive Markey, a longtime Israel critic, expected to rout centrist challenger appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
‘Jews.com’ is posted on billboards across NYC — meet the Messianic Jewish preacher putting them up
Billboards have been popping up around New York City, with a simple, if cryptic, message: Jews.com. There are several across from the Barclay’s Center in downtown Brooklyn. There’s one on the Upper East Side. Another looms over a highway.
If you visit the site, however, you won’t find information about Judaism, at least not as Jews understand it. Instead, you’ll find videos of a man named Kirt Schneider. And he’s talking about Jesus.
Schneider is a Messianic Jewish self-proclaimed rabbi — though, when we spoke on the phone about the billboard campaign, he did note that he had not been ordained, nor had he gone to yeshiva. “I realize the Orthodox community wouldn’t understand me as a rabbi,” he said.
Schneider’s mission with the site and billboard campaign — which he said was inspired by a vision he had while sleeping — is to introduce Jews to “to simply look at the evidence” that Jesus is the Jewish messiah, he said.
Most of Schneider’s sermons and writings on Jews.com talk about prophecies throughout the Hebrew Bible that he — along with most Christians — believe prove that Jesus is the messiah. Jesus, Schneider pointed out, was a Jew as were his early followers; he said this means there is no conflict between being a Jew and a Christian.
“What I’m wanting to do is shed the veil and the misinformation over the Jewish people that’s been placed upon them by almost 2,000 years of rabbinic tradition and to help them see through at least some of that,” Schneider told me. “I love my rabbis, but I think there’s been a coverup in the sense that rabbis have tried to prevent the Jewish people from taking a serious look at Jesus. I believe that Jesus is the Jewish messiah.”
But, of course, for centuries now, one of the main differences between Judaism and Christianity — arguably the defining difference — is that Jews do not believe that Jesus is the messiah, and Christians do. And that difference of opinion has driven centuries of antisemitic persecution of Jews, who Christians have accused of killing Jesus, going against God and taking part in a demonic cult by continuing to practice Judaism. Jews, for their part, often see proselytizing as disrespectful and harmful; every Jewish denomination as well as many major groups reject Messianic Judaism as a form of Judaism, and most scholars consider it a form of Protestant Christianity.
A vision of billboards
This is not the first time Schneider has attempted to bring Jews to Jesus; he runs a TV show on Christian cable networks called Discovering the Jewish Jesus, and has radio shows on the same topic — success that has made him a millionaire, thanks in part to donations from believers. He even blessed Donald Trump as part of a group of evangelical pastors and televangelists.
This is not even Schneider’s first billboard campaign targeting Jews; he ran billboards in Times Square in 2019 advertising a different website, theJewishJesus.com, also attempting to bring Jews to Jesus. (Schneider would not answer how he paid for these expensive billboard placements beyond saying that he had been “very successful” in his career.)
Schneider was raised as a secular Jew, and was bar mitzvahed at a Conservative synagogue in Cleveland, Ohio. However, in his early adult years, while working as an encyclopedia salesman — in a story he has written about online and repeated almost verbatim to me over the phone — he had a vision of Jesus on the cross while asleep, or, as he put it, in a “supernatural state of conscious awareness.”
From then on, despite the best efforts of his family, he became a follower of Jesus.. (The billboard campaign, he told me, was also the result of a vision.) Schneider just does not consider following Jesus to make him any less Jewish, because Judaism, to him, is purely carried by blood, not belief.
“A Jew is someone who is born a physical descendant of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. You can be a Jew and be an atheist and still be considered a Jew, you can be agnostic and still be considered a Jew,” he said. “The only Jews that aren’t considered Jews are the Jews who believe in Jesus,” something he said was “very sad.”
This is why Schneider said he does not refer to himself as a Christian; the term, he said, comes from the Greek word for messiah. He wants to emphasize his belief that Jesus is specifically the Jewish messiah through avoiding Greek in favor of Hebrew terms like “moshiach.”
“A Christian is someone who is not born a Christian, technically, a Christian is someone who makes the decision to follow the Christ. I am a Jew, and I believe in the Jewish messiah,” he said. “And if you want to use the Greek, then I’m a Christian.”
Schneider’s sermons and writings on jews.com are similarly peppered with small bits of Hebrew: He refers to God as “Hashem” and Jesus as “Yeshua,” the Hebrew form of the name, both of which are common practices in groups Messianic Jewish groups including Jews for Jesus. In some videos — though not those on jews.com — he sports peyot (sans kippah) and a tallis, as though he is Hasidic, all choices he makes, he said, as a way to “incorporate his Jewish identity” into his discussions of Jesus.
But aside from those aesthetic markers, Schneider makes little mention in the videos on the site of the usual Jewish practices, like keeping kosher or observing Shabbat, and instead focuses on Jesus. And though he may prefer not to call himself a Christian, he did attend a Christian Bible college where he met his wife and even preached in “mainline” Protestant Christian churches in 1985, before becoming a salesman for several decades. He founded his current ministry, Discovering the Jewish Jesus, in 2002.
Bringing ‘Messiah Yeshua’ to Jews
Messianic Jewish organizations have long sought to convert Jews to Christianity, and have incorporated markers of observant Judaism as a strategy to attract Jews to the fold — one of the reasons various Jewish organizations have sometimes labeled Messianic Judaism a form of antisemitism and fraud, arguing that by representing themselves as Jews, they confuse people into attending their services or believing they speak on behalf of the larger Jewish community.
Schneider is taking a page out of the proselytizing playbook beyond his aesthetic and linguistic choices; his jews.com billboards are placed in the New York City area. And outside of Tel Aviv, he has a Hebrew language campaign with billboards asking passersby, in Hebrew, “What if he was right?” There’s a matching website for that campaign, too, also in Hebrew.
On the main website of his ministry — where monthly donors are promised a shofar made in Israel — there is a page about “Jewish outreach” that states “God has placed a specific burden on Rabbi Schneider to lovingly, directly, and faithfully bring the truth of Messiah Yeshua to Jewish people,” and create a “spiritual harvest among Jewish people.” The billboards concentrated in the heavily Jewish areas of Tel Aviv and New York City, are Schneider’s attempts to do just that.
“This thing is going to blow up,” he said of his attempts to bring Jews to Jesus, “and nothing’s going to be able to stop it.”
The post ‘Jews.com’ is posted on billboards across NYC — meet the Messianic Jewish preacher putting them up appeared first on The Forward.
