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American synagogues are closing at a record rate. This retired judge is rescuing their stained glass windows.
CHICAGO — Jerry Orbach moves through the sanctuary of Northbrook Community Synagogue with the practiced eye of a man who’s spent years rescuing pieces of a fading world. The suburban Chicago congregation glows with stained glass saved from shuttered synagogues, their colors reframed along these walls. What began as one man’s mission has turned the space into a living museum — a collage of light and loss.
A large gold Star of David hangs from a chain around Orbach’s neck, catching the light from the windows he’s saved from seven shuls. At 79, the retired judge has made a second career of rescuing what others have left behind: stained glass from synagogues that have closed, merged, or fallen into disrepair.
He isn’t just saving glass; he’s salvaging light — the one thing that never stops traveling.
Each panel is marked by a small plaque: the name of the congregation, the town it once illuminated, the year it died. When the sun hits them just right, color ripples across the walls like ghosts, a chorus of light still singing long after the voices are gone. “A continuation instead of a destruction,” he says, as if arguing a case.
For more than a century, the number of synagogues in America steadily climbed, a reflection of immigration, assimilation, and Jewish ambition. But by the 1990s, that momentum stalled. In the decades that followed, it reversed. There are roughly 20% fewer synagogues today than there were in 1990, according to data gathered by Alanna E. Cooper, a Jewish Studies professor at Case Western Reserve University. For the first time in American history, more synagogues are closing each year than opening.
The walls of Northbrook Community Synagogue now hold what those closures leave behind: fragments of glass salvaged from sanctuaries across the post-industrial Midwest, where factories shuttered and congregations dwindled. Orbach has become a one-man preservation society.
A history in glass
Stained glass has long been a marker of Jewish arrival in America. When immigrant congregations began erecting monumental synagogues in the early 1900s, they built them with arches, domes, and large window apertures. Glass became the medium of belonging.
In cathedrals, stained glass told the stories of saints. In synagogues, it told the story of survival. Early designs depicted the 12 tribes, the days of creation, the Exodus from Egypt. Later came darker panels, fractured blues and reds evoking the Holocaust, followed by bursts of gold and white celebrating the creation of the State of Israel. Across a century of Jewish life, the art evolved into a visual Torah of endurance.
The factories closed. The congregations scattered. But the windows remain: fragile, luminous, still looking for a home.
Orbach leads me into a small elevator, one hand steadying his cane as the doors close. “You’re gonna like this,” he says, as the bell dings and the elevator jolts to a stop.
The basement sprawls beneath the entire building, a hidden warren of storage rooms and concrete corridors. One room is a large gym. Another section is soon to become indoor pickleball courts. But in a far corner, the scene could be straight out of an Indiana Jones movie. This is where Orbach has built something else: a warehouse of memory.
Wooden crates line the walls, some open, others nailed shut. Inside are stained-glass windows that have yet to find a new home — towering panels from Beth Achim synagogue in Southfield, Michigan, each thirteen feet tall and three feet wide. For now, they rest here, waiting for wherever their journey next takes them, like the vessels of a traveling tabernacle.
Orbach lifts his phone, flicking on the flashlight. Dust drifts through the beam. The air smells faintly metallic, like old pews and time. He runs the light along the edge of a crate, tracing the outline of a hidden window.
“I just got these in two weeks ago,” he says, like a shopkeeper showing off new stock. “Seven for the holidays, seven for the days of creation. They’re gorgeous.”
He steps closer to a crate, resting his hand on the wood as if on a headstone. This, he said, is how memory becomes a kind of faith.
The case for light
A son of Chicago, Orbach was born in Humboldt Park to parents who fled pogroms in Eastern Europe — his mother from Ukraine, his father from Poland. When he was eight, the family moved north to Albany Park, then a humming center of Jewish life. He’s stayed close to the city ever since: studying law at Loyola, serving as a prosecutor and alderman, and later, in 1988, taking the bench in Cook County. In time he rose to head the court’s law division in District Two, a job that taught him to listen before ruling. He retired two decades ago, though he now mediates and arbitrates cases — a judge, it seems, never entirely off duty.
A few of Orbach’s earliest rescues were the panels from his childhood synagogue in Albany Park. They once illuminated the sanctuary where he became bar mitzvah, where he was married, where his parents once prayed. Reinstalled now in Northbrook, they’ve since framed his grandchildren’s baby namings. “They sold the building to a church,” he said. “I couldn’t stand the idea of those windows ending up in a dumpster.”
Something shifted. He started calling contractors, preservationists — anyone with a ladder and a conscience. Soon he was showing up at demolition sites, paying crews out of pocket to let him climb the scaffolding and pry the glass from the walls. Once, at Mikro Kadosh Anshei Ticktin, an old Chicago congregation, he and his crew worked through the night, prying the stained glass from the front while a bulldozer tore into the back of the building. “By the end, there was one wall left,” he said. “It was shaking while we got the last window out.”
He talks about the windows the way some people talk about those who once prayed beneath them, as if they still have a pulse. “If you keep the memory of the shuls alive,” he said, “the people in them are alive too.”
From ruin to renewal
Among Orbach’s most prized rescues are a set of stained-glass windows from Saginaw, Michigan — luminous panels manufactured in France and salvaged just before their synagogue was torn down. He brought them to Northbrook several years ago, giving their light a second life.
A few months after Orbach installed the Saginaw windows, Cooper — the scholar who tracks synagogue closures and the fate of their sacred objects — flew in from Cleveland to see them. She’d been studying what happens to the sacred items left behind when synagogues close: Torah scrolls, yahrzeit plaques, arks, pews, memorial lights. But the stained glass, she said, posed the hardest questions.
Stained-glass windows don’t have a sacred status like a Torah scroll or even the building itself. They carry a different kind of holiness. “I’ve heard many congregations describe their windows as the soul of their congregation,” Cooper said.
She found in Orbach what her fieldwork had only theorized. “He’s creating an afterlife for these windows,” she said at a dedication ceremony at Northbrook, where they both spoke.
Standing before the crowd that day, Cooper described the scene she’d witnessed when windows were removed from Ahavath Israel in Kingston, New York, which Orbach also rescued and relocated to Northbrook. Cooper recalled workmen carrying the panels to their crates as the last members of the congregation looked on. “As they lowered the windows into the boxes,” she said, “it felt like a burial.”
Now she gestured toward the sanctuary, the glass alive with color once more. “And this,” she said, “is the afterlife.”
In his own sanctuary
Orbach has one more thing to show me, in his two-story home on a quiet suburban street. Rusty, his six-year-old rescue mutt, bounds to the door. His wife, Noreen, waves from the hallway.
The foyer is lined with photos of his two daughters and their families. Hanging above the entryway are two stained-glass windows he salvaged years ago from a shuttered synagogue in Lakeview, Illinois, where he used to go for minyan. The site is now condos.
“In my own way, this is how I keep those shuls alive,” he says, glancing up at the glass.
The post American synagogues are closing at a record rate. This retired judge is rescuing their stained glass windows. appeared first on The Forward.
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JD Vance blames Israel and Iran war for GOP’s crushing defeats
(JTA) — Vice President JD Vance blamed the Republican Party’s massive midterm losses on the country’s connection to Israel and the war in Iran in a social media post early on Wednesday.
“The real reason we lost is obvious to almost everyone,” Vance wrote on X, as results from Tuesday’s midterm elections showed that Democrats had wrested control of Congress from his Republican Party.
The vice president then listed four strategies to persuade those voters who abandoned the GOP “to come back to our team”: end the war in Iran; focus on the cost of living and inflation; put America first and “Change our relationship to Israel.”
“The reason we lost is the war. The president himself said so last night,” Vance added, referring to interviews President Donald Trump gave on Tuesday about the influence of the war on gas prices.
Addressing the defeats, Trump told Fox News that “a part of it was Iran,” while also doubling down on the importance of the war itself. Similarly, he told The Wall Street Journal that “Iran was a piece of it.”
The president’s son, Donald Trump, Jr., backed Vance’s statement with a re-post on Wednesday, simply adding: “Every word of this is 100 100 100.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post JD Vance blames Israel and Iran war for GOP’s crushing defeats appeared first on The Forward.
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People used to have guests over often. Why do so few of us do that anymore?
אין אַן אַרטיקל לעצטנס אינעם זשורנאַל „די אַטלאַנטיק“ האָט מען איבערגעגעבן, אַז אינעם יאָר 1975 האָבן בערך 42 פּראָצענט אַמעריקאַנער געזאָגט, אַז צום ווייניקסטן איין מאָל אַ חודש נעמען זיי אויף געסט (פֿרײַנד אָדער קרובֿים) אויף אַ מאָלצײַט בײַ זיך אין שטוב.
אין 2026 איז עס אָבער געווען בלויז 12 פּראָצענט — אַ ירידה פֿון בערך 70 פּראָצענט.
די פֿאָרשער האָבן דעם פֿענאָמען אַ נאָמען געגעבן „די גרויסע ירידה פֿון הכנסת־אורחים“ (The Great Disinvitation בלע״ז). דער נאָמען פּאַסט טאַקע ווײַל אָט די ירידה פֿון אויפֿנעמען געסט איז נישט בלויז וואָך שייך דעם פֿאַרבעטן מענטשן אויף אַ מאָלצײַט. אַ סך געזעלשאַפֿטלעכע אַקטיוויטעטן וואָס זענען אַ מאָל געווען אַזוי פֿאַרשפּרייט זענען אַ פּנים „אַרויס פֿון דער מאָדע, צי דאָס איז אַרויסגיין עסן מיט פֿרײַנד, שפּילן קאָרטן, גיין אויף אַ פּיקניק, הערן אַ קלאַס, טאָן פֿרײַוויליקע אַרבעט, גיין אין שענק אָדער אויף אַ זיצונג פֿון אַ קלוב. מיט אַנדערע ווערטער, אַזוי ווייניק מענטשן באַטייליקן זיך אין די אַקטיוויטעטן, אַז מע באַטראַכט זיי ווי סתּם חנעוודיקע מנהגים פֿון אַ פֿאַרגאַנגענער תּקופֿה, נישט מער ווי אַ קוריאָז.
פֿאַר וואָס איז דאָס געשען? ערשטנס, איז דאָס לעבן אין דער היים געוואָרן זייער באַקוועם, אַזוי אַז ס׳גלוסט זיך נישט אַרויסצוגיין. צווייטנס, ניצט מען אויס יענע שעהען וואָס מע פֿלעג אויפֿנעמען געסט צו אַרבעטן מער. דריטנס, ווען מע זעט כּסדר אויף דער סאָציאַלער מעדיאַ (בפֿרט אינסטאַגראַם) פֿאָטאָגראַפֿיעס פֿון פּרעכטיקע עסצימערן, וווּ אַלץ אויפֿן טיש זעט אויס פּערפֿעקט, און דער סאַלאָן איז שיין אויסגעסדרט און קרישטאָל־ריין, פֿילן זיך מענטשן אַז זיי קענען נישט דערגרייכן אַזאַ הויכן סטאַנדאַרט און באַשליסן דערפֿאַר נישט צו פֿאַרבעטן מענטשן צו זיך.
די סדרה פֿון דער פֿאַרגאַנגענער וואָך, וירא, ווײַזט אונדז אַ בולטן קאָנטראַסט. אַבֿהרם אָבֿינו, וואָס איז אַלט 99 יאָר אַלט און האָט ערשט געהאַט דורכגעמאַכט אַ שטיקל „כירורגיע“ (זײַן ברית־מילה), זיצט בײַם אַרײַנגאַנג פֿון זײַן געצעלט אין דער הייסטער צײַט פֿון טאָג, ווען דרײַ פֿרעמדע באַווײַזן זיך פֿון דער ווײַטנס.
הגם אַבֿרהם האָט אַ גוטן תּירוץ צו בלײַבן בײַם געצעלט, הייבט ער זיך אויף, לויפֿט צו צו די דרײַ פֿרעמדע לײַט און הייבט אָן צוגרייטן אַ סעודה פֿאַר זיי. ער הייסט שׁרהן תּיכּף אָפּבאַקן ברויט און באַפֿעלט זײַן דינער אויסקלײַבן דאָס בעסטע קעלבל פֿון זייער טשאַדע כּדי צו מאַכן אַ געשמאַק הויפּטגעריכט.
מיט אַנדערע ווערטער, אַבֿרהם אָרגאַניזירט אַ סעודה וואָס קיינער האָט נישט פּלאַנירט, לטובֿת מענטשן וואָס ער קען בכלל נישט. ס׳איז זייער מעגלעך אַז דאָס געצעלט איז בײַ אים געווען אָנגעוואָרפֿן מיט זאַכן אָבער דאָס האָט אים נישט געאַרט. דערצו האָבן די געסט געדאַרפֿט וואַרטן עטלעכע שעה אויף דער מאָלצײַט (דער פּראָצעס פֿון באַקן ברויט קאָן דויערן 5 שעה), און דאָס עסן איז אפֿשר נישט געווען אויסערגעוויינטלעך. מיר דאַכט זיך אָבער, אַז דאָס איז דער עיקר פֿון דער מעשׂה.
דאָס אויפֿנעמען געסט איז אָפֿט נישט באַקוועם און פֿאָדערט אַ סך מי.
אין יענע צײַטן איז דאָס געווען אַן אמתע האָרעוואַניע. מע האָט געדאַרפֿט שעכטן די חיות, שעפּן וואַסער פֿון ברונעם, צעמאָלן דאָס מעל און באַקן אַלץ פֿריש. הײַנט איז דאָס אויפֿנעמען געסט גרינגער צוליב אַלע טעכנאָלאָגישע דערגרייכונגען אָבער מע דאַרף פֿאָרט אַרײַנלייגן אַ היפּשע אַרבעט: מע דאַרף קאָכן, קאָאָרדינירן אונדזערע קאַלענדאַרן, גיין אײַנקויפֿן, ראַמען, קאָנטראָלירן צי איינער פֿון די געסט האָט אַן אַלערגיע, און מע דאַרף נעמען אין באַטראַכט די באַדערפֿענישן פֿון קליינע קינדער.
סײַ אין אַבֿרהמס צײַטן סײַ אין אונדזערע, ווערן אָט די גשמיותדיקע צוגרייטונגען לטובֿת הכנסת־אורחים פֿאַרוואַנדלט אין מעשׂים פֿון אמתן חסד.
די תּורה זאָגט אונדז, אַז גאָט האָט געהאַלטן אין מיטן רעדן מיט אַבֿרהמען ווען די געסט זענען אָנגעקומען און ווי עס זעט אויס האָט אַבֿרהם ממש איבערגעריסן זײַן שמועס מיטן אייבערשטן, כּדי צו באַדינען די געסט — אַ זאַך וואָס האָט דערפֿירט צום איבערראַשנדיקן אויספֿיר בײַ חז״ל: אַז הכנסת־אורחים איז נאָך חשובֿער ווי דאָס זײַן אין דער שכינה אַליין.
אַ מדרש גיט צו אַן אינטערעסאַנטע אָבסערוואַציע: ווען עס דערנענטערן זיך די דרײַ פֿרעמדע (וואָס זענען אין דער אמתן דרײַ מאכלים), שטייט געשריבן אַז זיי „שטייען איבער“ אַבֿרהמען, אָבער בײַם סוף פֿונעם מאָלצײַט, „שטייט ער איבער זיי“. דאָס הייסט, בײַם אָנהייב האָבן די דרײַ געסט זיך געפֿילט גײַסטיק העכער פֿון אַבֿרהמען, אָבער ביזן סוף פֿון זייער באַזוך האָבן זיי אײַנגעזען אַז אָט דער קראַנקער זקן מיט דער אָפֿענער טיר, וואָס זײַן הויזגעזינד מאַכט פֿריש ברויט לכּבֿוד זײַנע געסט, האָט דערגרייכט אַ נאָך העכערע מדרגה ווי זיי.
מיר לייענען ווי די דרײַ מאכלים פֿאַרלאָזן אַבֿרהמס געצעלט און קומען אָן אין סדום, וווּ זיי טרעפֿן אַ גאָר אַנדער מין געזעלשאַפֿט: אַנשטאָט חסד און גאַסטפֿרײַנטלעכקייט ווײַזן די אײַנוווינער פֿון סדום אַרויס רציחה און אַכזריותדיקייט צו פֿרעמדע. אין סדום איז די שׂינאה פֿאַר פֿרעמדע לײַט געווען ממש אײַנגעגלידערט אין זייער סאָציאַלער סיסטעם.
ווען לוט, וואָס האָט זיך באַזעצט אין סדום, נעמט אויף צוויי פֿון די דרײַ געסט וואָס זענען פֿריִער געווען בײַ אַבֿרהמען, זאַמלט זיך אָן בײַ זײַן טיר אַ המון אָרטיקע אײַנוווינער, פֿאָדערנדיק אַז ער זאָל דערלאַנגען די געסט צו זיי. וויסנדיק אַז די סדומער וועלן די געסט ברוטאַל אַטאַקירן, זאָגט ער זיך אָפּ פֿון אַרויסלאָזן די געסט. כאָטש ער טוט דערנאָך עפּעס, וואָס איז פּונקט אַזוי שאָקירנדיק און אַכזריותדיק (ער שיקט אַרויס זײַנע אייגענע טעכטער אַנשטאָט די געסט), איז קלאָר אַז ער האָט געפּרווט פֿאָלגן די פּרינציפּן פֿון הכנסת־אורחים, וואָס ער האָט זיך אָפּגעלערנט פֿון זײַן פֿעטער אַבֿרהם.
מע קען אַוודאי נישט פֿאַרגלײַכן דעם אוממענטשלעכן אויפֿפֿיר פֿון די סדומער מיט אונדזער געזעלשאַפֿט. די ירידה פֿון הכנסת־אורחים איז אָבער אַ סימן אַז מיר שאַנעווען נישט די טראַדיציע פֿון אויפֿנעמען געסט אַזוי ווי אַמאָל. מיר פֿילן זיך באַקוועמער צו בלײַבן פֿיזיש אָפּגעזינדערט פֿון אַנדערע. דורך אַבֿרהמס גאַסטפֿרײַנדלעכקייט ווײַזט אונדז די תּורה וואָסערע נסים קענען פֿאָרקומען ווען מע פֿאַרבעט געסט צו זיך אַהיים: אַן אַלטיטשקע פּאָרפֿאָלק וואָס האָט שוין אויפֿגעגעבן די האָפֿענונג אַז זיי וועלן האָבן קינדער, דערוויסט זיך אַז זיי וועלן טאַקע האָבן אַ זון.
ווען מיר פֿאַרבעטן מענטשן אַהיים אויף אַ מאָלצײַט קענען אויך פֿאָרקומען אַנדערע וויכטיקע זאַכן: אַ גאַסט וואָס האָט נישט קיין שטעלע קען געפֿינען אַרבעט. צוויי געסט קענען זיך פֿאַרליבן און דערנאָך חתונה האָבן.
די תּורה לערנט אונדז אַז מיר זאָלן עפֿענען אונדזערע היימען, אַפֿילו אויב ס׳איז אונדז שווער. און נאָך מער: מיר זאָלן עס טאָן דווקא ווי אַ דוגמא פֿון אַ מיצווה, וואָס איז שווער דורכצופֿירן אָבער ברענגט צונויף מענטשן. און מיר אַלע קענען דאָס טאָן. זאָרגט זיך נישט אויב אײַער היים איז נישט אַזוי שיין ווי די בילדער, וואָס איר זעט אויף אינסטאַגראַם. ווען מיר ווערן פֿאַרבעטן צו יענעם אַהיים געדענקען ס׳רובֿ פֿון אונדז נישט צי די סערוועטקעס האָבן זיך טאַקע געפּאַסט מיטן טישטעך. מיר געדענקען אָבער יאָ ווי אַזוי מיר האָבן זיך געפֿילט ווי געסט, וויסנדיק אַז עמעצער וויל פֿאַרברענגען מיט אונדז.
בײַ די פֿראַנצויזן איז דאָ אַן אַלטער מינהג: ווען מע שטאַרבט, באַערדיקט מען דעם מת אין אַן אָרון געמאַכט פֿונעם האָלץ פֿון זײַן עסטיש. דער סימבאָליזם דערפֿון איז קלאָר: נאָך דעם ווי מיר פֿאַרלאָזן די וועלט, טראַכטן ווייניק מענטשן וויפֿל געלט מיר האָבן געהאַט אָדער ווי באַרימט מיר זענען געווען. אַ סך מער געדענקט מען ווי אַזוי מיר האָבן אויפֿגענומען געסט: די איבעריקע בענקלעך, וואָס מיר האָבן אַרויסגעשלעפּט פֿון דער שאַפֿע; די טישטעכער וואָס מיר האָבן אָפּגעוואַשן, און ואַחרון אַחרון חבֿיבֿ — אונדזער שמייכל בײַם עפֿענען די טיר.
דער אַרטיקל איז איבערגעזעצט געוואָרן פֿון ענגליש.
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6 Jewish takeaways from the midterm elections
(JTA) — The sheer size and geographic scope of the Republican wipeout Tuesday makes it hard to read anything definitive into the results beyond a nationwide repudiation of President Donald Trump (and his candidate selections). But whether or not any other factors were at play in the GOP bloodbath, the fallout will have a range of reverberations. Here are 6 takeaways that point to what comes next.
1. A significantly weakened Donald Trump doesn’t bode well for Netanyahu
For Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, Trump has been a longshot bet that keeps on paying off. It’s hard to overstate how significant Trump’s improbable wins in 2016 and 2024 were in bolstering Netanyahu’s domestic standing and giving him space to advance his regional agenda. Trump also served as a security blanket, leaving Netanyahu and his allies with a sense for many years that they need not worry too much about skyrocketing Democratic and international anger with Israel.
In fact, there was even a hope in Bibi world that The Donald’s support could save Netanyahu from political defeat at home (and, to be fair, his 11th-hour endorsement may have). Whether Netanyahu holds on or chief rival Gadi Eisenkot succeeds in replacing him, Israel is entering uncharted territory. There is little chance that the combination of a weakened Trump and an emboldened Democratic Congress produces similar levels of support for aggressive action against Iran and its proxies, and other policies that a wide spectrum of Israelis see as crucial to their security.
2. Jeffries and Schumer have a massive headache coming their way
With Tuesday night’s Democratic wave, Hakeem Jeffries is on track to become Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives and Chuck Schumer will likely get a second shot as U.S. Senate Majority Leader. These New Yorkers have longstanding ties to the pro-Israel community and are among their party’s strongest Israel supporters – putting them at odds with the growing number of congressional Democrats who want their party to take a much harder line against Israel. It won’t be long before members in each caucus are demanding concrete action, including meaningful limits on U.S. military sales.
Both Democratic leaders have ratcheted up their criticism of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his government in the wake of its war on Hamas in Gaza, but they have ultimately voted against various legislative attempts to punish Israel. This past April, Schumer was one of only seven Senate Democrats to vote against a pair of resolutions that together would have blocked the sale of D-9 bulldozers, widely used in military operations, and 1,000-pound bombs to Israel. In July, Jeffries voted against ending U.S. military aid to Israel, but the measure was supported by almost half of the Democratic caucus. As leaders of their respective chambers, Jeffries and Schumer will likely face immense pressure for more such votes and face much tougher scrutiny from the party base over continued support for Israel.
3. The impact of the anti-Israel vote was diluted
On the other hand, the massive Democratic victory dilutes the power of the anti-Israel lawmakers in Congress. Their numbers will grow, causing problems for party leaders trying to keep anti-Israel measures off the agenda. But they will remain a relatively small subset within a much larger Democratic majority that includes many moderates and Israel supporters.
Not only will anti-Israel members have less ability to hold Congress hostage, the overall issue of Israel loses some of its potency when the broader political winds indicate that all Democrats were boosted.
4. John Fetterman just lost his juice
Just as the sizable Democratic House majority makes Jeffries less dependent on anti-Israel lawmakers in his caucus, the next Senate Majority Leader won’t need to rely on Pennsylvania Sen. John Fetterman. For years, Fetterman has been driving fellow Democrats crazy with his cozying up to Republicans, with progressives especially upset over his die-hard support for Israel. Fetterman has even said that the one thing that could cause him to leave the Democratic Senate caucus would be his party turning decisively against Israel.
Had things broken differently, with Democrats grabbing a narrow 51-49 majority in the chamber, Fetterman’s influence would have been hypercharged. Now, not so much. The Democrats no longer need him to keep control of the chamber. So Schumer, should he regain the majority leader role, will have to worry much less about keeping the party’s top pro-Israel cheerleader happy. In 2028, he’ll be up for reelection and highly unlikely to survive the Democratic primary.
5. AIPAC has not found a formula for success
A few years back, the leading pro-Israel lobby decided the best way to counter the initial anti-Israel rumblings in Congress was to jump deep into the campaign fundraising business. Hundreds of millions of dollars later, the number of Israel critics in Congress – especially on the Democratic side of the aisle – has grown, with a fresh batch on the way. Moreover, in many races, anti-Israel candidates and AIPAC critics managed to turn the lobby’s backing into a liability.
Meanwhile, Trump’s seemingly impromptu announcement Tuesday that his administration would end aid to Israel after this year suggests that Republican backing for such support is dropping alongside Democrats’. And Tuesday’s results suggest AIPAC’s strong support for the U.S. and Israeli military strikes against Iran is out of step with the American public and many incoming lawmakers.
All of this indicates that AIPAC has yet to figure out how to manage the anti-Israel turn sweeping through American politics.
6. It was a great night for Jewish presidential hopefuls
U.S. Sen. Jon Ossoff says he isn’t running for president in 2028. But that won’t stop the speculation from skyrocketing after his impressive reelection in Georgia – Georgia?! – with nearly 60% of the vote. More importantly, he probably just grabbed frontrunner status in the race to become America’s first Jewish president. Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro also registered a similarly sized reelection victory in a state that Trump won just two years ago, but Ossoff – a fierce Trump antagonist and, increasingly, a critic of Israel’s military actions – cemented his rock star status among Democrats this cycle and has demonstrated an ability to bridge the gap between younger progressives and more traditional liberals.
Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker also cruised to reelection. Meanwhile in Michigan, moderate Elissa Slotkin – another senator and likely presidential hopeful (of course, which senator isn’t a presidential hopeful?) – may have at least propped open the door to some progressive support by campaigning hard for Abdul El-Sayed. All four have been highly critical of Netanyahu, with both Ossoff and Slotkin joining most of their fellow Democratic senators in voting in April for a curb on various weapons sales. Both senators have declined to label Israel’s actions in Gaza as genocide.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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