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Beyond the ‘Day of Hate’: The best strategy to keep American Jews safe over the long term
(JTA) — My synagogue sent out a cautiously anxious email yesterday about an event coming this Shabbat, a neo-Nazi “Day of Hate.” The email triggered fuzzy memories of one of the strangest episodes that I can remember from my childhood.
Sometime around 1990, in response to local neo-Nazi activity, some Jews from my community decided to “fight back.” I don’t know whether they were members of the militant Jewish Defense League, or perhaps just sympathetic to a JDL-style approach. When our local Jewish newspaper covered the story, it ran on its front cover a full-page photo of a kid from my Orthodox Jewish high school. The photo showed a teenage boy from behind, wearing a kippah and carrying a baseball bat that was leaning threateningly on his shoulder.
As it happens, “Danny” was not a member of the JDL, he was a kid on his way to play baseball. Sometimes, a baseball bat is just a baseball bat. But not for us anxious Jews in America: We want to see ourselves as protagonists taking control of our destiny, responding to antisemites with agency, with power, with a plan. I’m sorry to say that as I look around our community today, it seems to me that we have agency, and we have power — but we certainly don’t seem to have a plan.
The tactics that the American Jewish community uses to fight back against antisemitism are often ineffective on their own and do not constitute a meaningful strategy in the composite. One is that American Jews join in a partisan chorus that erodes our politics and fixates on the antisemitism in the party they don’t vote for. This exacerbates the partisan divide, which weakens democratic culture, and turns the weaponizing of antisemitism into merely a partisan electoral tactic for both sides.
Another tactic comes from a wide set of organizations who have declared themselves the referees on the subject and take to Twitter to name and shame antisemites. This seems to amplify and popularize antisemitism more than it does to suppress it.
A third common tactic is to pour more and more dollars into protecting our institutions with robust security measures, which no one thinks will defeat antisemitism, but at least seeks to protect those inside those institutions from violence, though it does little to protect Jews down the street. Richer Jewish institutions will be safer than poorer ones, but Jews will continue to suffer either way.
A fourth tactic our communal organizations use to fight antisemitism is to try to exact apologies or even fines from antisemites to get them to retract their beliefs and get in line, as the Anti-Defamation League did with Kyrie Irving, an approach that Yair Rosenberg has wisely argued is a no-win proposition. Yet another tactic is the insistence by some that the best way to fight antisemitism is to be proud Jews, which has the perverse effect of making our commitment to Jewishness dependent on antisemitism as a motivator.
And finally, the most perverse tactic is that some on both the right and the left fight antisemitism by attacking the ADL itself. Since it is so hard to defeat our opponents, we have started beating up on those that are trying to protect us. What could go wrong?
Steadily, like a drumbeat, these tactics fail, demonstrating themselves to be not a strategy at all, and the statistics continue to show a rise in antisemitism.
Perhaps we are too fixated on the idea that antisemitism is continuous throughout Jewish history, proving only that there is no effective strategy for combating this most persistent of hatreds.
Instead, we would do well to recall how we responded to a critical moment in American Jewish history in the early 20th century. In the aftermath of the Leo Frank lynching in 1915 – the murder of a Jewish man amid an atmosphere of intense antisemitism — Jewish leaders formed what would become the ADL by building a relationship with law enforcement and the American legal and political establishment. The ADL recognized that the best strategy to keep American Jews safe over the long term, in ways that would transcend and withstand the political winds of change, was to embed in the police and criminal justice system the idea that antisemitism was their problem to defeat. These Jewish leaders flipped the script of previous diasporic experiences; not only did they become “insiders,” they made antisemitism anathema to America itself. (And yes, it was the Leo Frank incident that inspired “Parade,” the forthcoming Broadway musical that this week attracted white supremacist protesters.)
For Jews, the high-water mark of this strategy came in the aftermath of the Tree of Life shooting in Pittsburgh. It was the low point in many ways of the American Jewish experience, the most violent act against Jews on American soil, but it was followed by a mourning process that was shared across the greater Pittsburgh community. The words of the Kaddish appeared above the fold of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. That is inconceivable at most other times of Jewish oppression and persecution. It tells the story of when we are successful – when antisemitism is repudiated by the general public. It is the most likely indicator that we will be collectively safe in the long run.
We were lucky that this move to partner with the establishment was successful. I felt this deeply on a recent trip to Montgomery, Alabama. Seeing the memorials to Black Americans persecuted and lynched by and under the very system that should have been protecting them from the worst elements of society is a reminder that not all minorities in America could then — or today — win over the elements of American society that control criminal justice.
Visitors view items left by well-wishers along the fence at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh on the first anniversary of the attack there, Oct. 27, 2019. (Jeff Swensen/Getty Images)
A strategic plan to defeat antisemitism that must be collectively embraced by American Jews would build on this earlier success and invest in the infrastructure of American democracy as the framework for Jewish thriving and surviving, and continue the historic relationship-building that changed the Jews’ position in America. It would stop the counterproductive internecine and partisan battle that is undermining the possibility of Jewish collective mobilization.
It means more investment, across partisan divides, in relationships with local governments and law enforcement, using the imperfect “definitions of antisemitism” as they are intended — not for boundary policing, but to inform and help law enforcement to monitor and prevent violent extremism. It means supporting lawsuits and other creative legal strategies, like Integrity First for America’s groundbreaking efforts against the Unite the Right rally organizers, which stymie such movements in legal gridlock and can help bankrupt them.
It means practicing the lost art of consensus Jewish collective politics which recognize that there must be some baseline agreement that antisemitism is a collective threat, even if any “unity” we imagine for the Jewish community is always going to be be instrumental and short-lived.
It means supporting institutions like the ADL, even as they remain imperfect, even as they sometimes get stuck in some of the failed strategies I decried above, because they have the relationships with powerful current and would-be allies in the American political and civic marketplace, and because they are fighting against antisemitism while trying to stay above the partisan fray.
It means real education and relationship-building with other ethnic and faith communities that is neither purely instrumental nor performative — enough public relations visits to Holocaust museums! — so that we have the allies we need when we need them, and so that we can partner for our collective betterment.
And most importantly, it means investing in the plodding, unsexy work of supporting vibrant American democracy — free and fair elections, voting rights, the rule of law, peaceful transitions of power — because stable liberal democracies have been the safest homes for minorities, Jews included.
I doubt we will ever be able to “end” individual antisemitic acts, much less eradicate antisemitic hate. “Shver tzu zayn a Yid” (it’s hard to be a Jew). We join with our fellow Americans who live in fear of the lone wolves and the hatemongers who periodically terrorize us. But we are much more capable than we are currently behaving to fight back against the collective threats against us. Instead, let’s be the smart Americans we once were.
The real work right now is not baseball bats or billboards, it is not Jewish pride banalities or Twitter refereeing: It is quiet and powerful and, if done right, as American Jews demonstrated in the last century, it will serve us for the long term.
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Gershon Weiss’ poetic surprises
פֿאַראַיאָרן האָט דער תּל־אָבֿיבֿער „ה. לייוויק־פֿאַרלאַג‟ אַרויסגעגעבן אַ לידער־זאַמלונג פֿונעם דיכטער גרשון ווײַס. דאָס בוך, „אַלט־נײַע לידער פֿאַר דעם איין־און־צוואַנציקסטן יאָרהונדערט‟, איז בלויז 28 זײַטלעך, נאָר האָט אַן אוניקאַלן טעם, באַגלייט מיט דעם מחברס אייגענע אילוסטראַציעס.
ווען איך האָב צום ערשטן מאָל געעפֿנט די דאָזיקע אויסגאַבע, האָט מיך גלײַך פֿאַרחידושט דער אימאַזש, אַז דער באַראַן (אַן ער־שעפּס), וועלכער פֿיגורירט אין דער מעשׂה וועגן דער עקידת־יצחק, ווי ער דערקלערט אינעם ליד אַליין, איז „חנום דער ווידערמענטש־אָפּגאָט‟. אַ פּלוצעמדיקע אַסאָציאַציע… און נישט קיין צופֿעליקע!
אינעם אַלט־מיצרישן פּאַנטעאָן איז טאַקע דאָ אַזאַ פֿיגור, וואָס זײַן נאָמען לייענט זיך ווי „כנום‟. גרשון ווײַס האָט פֿאַרשריבן זײַן נאָמען אויף אַ כּמו־לשון־קודשדיקן אופֿן, כּדי אונטערצושטרײַכן די אוראַלטקייט פֿונעם דאָזיקן אָפּגאָט, אַ מענטש אַ באַראַן. באַקומט זיך, לויט דעם דיכטערס רעיון, אַז בעת דער עקדה האָט אַבֿרהם אָבֿינו מבֿטל געווען די דאָזיקע עבֿודה־זרה… צי נישט? זײַן ניט־לאַנגע פּאָעמע „עקדה־צײַטן‟ שליסט זיך מיט די ווערטער „און זיי זײַנען געגאַנגען ווײַטער‟. טאַקע געגאַנגען, אינעם בוכשטעבלעכן היסטאָרישן זין. די אַרכעאָלאָגן האָבן באַשטעטיקט, אַז בערך מיט 2,500 יאָר צוריק איז אין דער מיצרישער אינדזל־שטאָט עלעפֿאַנטינע אָנגעגאַנגען אַ סיכסוך צווישן די אָרטיקע דינער פֿונעם שעפּס־קולט און ייִדן, וועלכער האָבן דאָרט אויפֿגעשטעלט אַן אייגענעם בית־המיקדש.
אין „פּרקי־אָבֿות‟ שטייט געשריבן, אַז יענער באַראַן איז געווען צווישן די זאַכן און באַשעפֿענישן, וואָס זענען באַשאַפֿן געוואָרן בײַם סאַמע סוף פֿון די ששת־ימי־בראשית. אויב אַזוי, ווערט ער אין דער ייִדישער טראַדיציע טאַקע באַטראַכט ווי עפּעס אַ מיסטישע חיה. די פֿאַרבינדונג מיטן באַראַן־מזל טלה (Aries), אויך דערמאָנט אינעם ליד, איז גענוג גוט באַקאַנט. ס׳איז פֿאַראַן אַ דעה, אַז די עקדה־מעשׂה איז פֿאָרגעקומען אינעם חודש ניסן, אונטער דעם דאָזיקן הימלישן סימן.
אָט אַזעלכע קייטן פֿון היסטאָרישע און סימבאָליש־פֿילאָסאָפֿישע פֿאַרבינדונגען בויען זיך, ווען מע לייענט גרשון ווײַסעס דיכטונג. זײַן פּאָעזיע איז פֿול מיט ניט־טריוויאַלע קבלה־אַסאָציאַציעס און אויך, ווי עס וואַרפֿט זיך אין די אויגן, מיט פּסיכאָ־אַנאַליז: „אַ לולבֿ און אתרוג טרעפֿן זיך… ער גרין מיט חשק, זי העל און רונד‟. אינעם נאָכוואָרט דערציילט דער דיכטער, אַז אין די לעצטע דרײַסיק יאָר האָט ער געאַרבעט ווי אַ „פּסיכאָטעראַפּיסט אין פֿאַרשידענע געביטן‟. אויפֿגעוואַקסן איז ער אין די 1970ער יאָרן אין אַ ניו־יאָרקער פֿאָרשטאָט.
אין ווײַסעס וועלטלעכער משפּחה האָט מען אויף ייִדיש נישט גערעדט. אינעם יאָר 1977 האָט ער זיך געלערנט אין דער אינטענסיווער ייִדיש־פּראָגראַם פֿון ייִוואָ און קאָלומביע־אוניווערסיטעט, אָנגעהויבן כּסדר פֿאַרבעסערן זײַן שפּראַך־קענטעניש און אין 2008 אָנגעהויבן פּובליקירן זײַנע ייִדישע לידער אינעם זשורנאַל „אויפֿן שוועל‟. גיטל שעכטער, איינע פֿון די רעדאַקטאָרן פֿונעם דאָזיקן זשורנאַל, האָט מיר איבערגעגעבן, אַז דער דיכטער וווינט אין איר שטאָט טינעק, ניו־דזשערזי, האָב איך זיך מיט אים פֿאַרבונדן.
גרשון ווײַס האָט מיר איבערגעגעבן, אַז איצט איז ער אויף פּענסיע און האָט אַ סך צײַט אויף צו שרײַבן לידער. איז גאַנץ מעגלעך אַז ער וועט אַרויסגעבן נאָך אַ זאַמלונג. איידער ער האָט זיך אויסגעלערנט ייִדיש, האָט ער געשריבן פּאָעטישע ווערק אויף ענגליש, אָבער הײַנט וויל ער שאַפֿן פּאָעזיע דווקא אויף דער ייִדישער שפּראַך, און דווקא צונויפֿשמעלצן זײַנע „צוויי אָבסעסיעס – רעליגיע און פּסיכאָלאָגיע‟.
אין עטלעכע לידער, דערקלערט ווײַס, האָט ער געוואָלט אויסשילדערן די תּנ״כישע פּערסאָנאַזשן ווי קאָמפּליצירטע עמאָציאָנעלע מענטשן, נישט סתּם „מאָראַלישע אַרכעטיפּן‟. ווי אַזוי? האָט מיר דער דיכטער דערקלערט אויף ייִדיש: „דאָס ליד פֿליסט אַרויס פֿון דעם דיכטערס אומוויסיקייט אין אַן אומסטרוקטורירטער פֿאָרעם, געמישט מיט פּערזענלעכע געדאַנקען און פֿראַגמענטן פֿון דעם דיכטערס קולטורעלער (מסתּמא, פֿילקולטורעלער) ירושה‟. זײַנע באַליבטסטע דיכטער זענען יעקבֿ גלאַטשטיין און דער ענגלישער פּאָעט ט. ס. עליאָט.
ווײַס האַלט, אַז „אַ ריינע ייִדישקייט איז אוממעגלעך‟. פֿון קדמונים אָן האָבן ייִדן זיך פֿאַרבונדן מיט די מיצרים, כּנענים, גריכן און אַנדערע פֿעלקער, זענען געווען באַקאַנט מיט זייערע רעליגיעס און ממילא עפּעס דערפֿון געשעפּט. פּערזענלעך בין איך אויך מסכּים. הלוואַי זאָלן אַרויס מער אַזעלכע ביכער אויף ייִדיש, וואָס זענען גובֿר פֿאַרשפּרייטע קולטורעלע סטערעאָטיפּן, און העלפֿן שאַפֿן בריקן צווישן פֿאַרשיידענע קולטורן און צוגאַנגען צו דער מענטשלעכער עקזיסטענץ.
The post Gershon Weiss’ poetic surprises appeared first on The Forward.
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First-ever empirical study of US rabbinate finds ‘shortage’ is more about fit than numbers
(JTA) — For years, synagogue leaders have said they can’t find enough clergy to fill their pulpits, leading to warnings of a nationwide rabbinic shortage. At the same time, openings for campus rabbis at Hillel chapters draw an average of 19 applicants each.
This mismatch between what rabbis want to do and the kinds of jobs available is among the many findings in the first-ever empirical study of the American rabbinate across denominations, released this week by the Atra Center for Rabbinic Innovation.
The study also examines the so-called “rabbinic pipeline” — the concern that declining enrollment at seminaries means too few people want to become rabbis. Here, too, the findings challenge conventional wisdom.
Surveying 450 people who considered the rabbinate but chose other careers, the study finds that lack of motivation was not a deciding factor. The most common barriers cited were the cost and duration of rabbinical school, the need to relocate, and concerns about the practicality of such a career.
In addition to these “would-be” rabbis, researchers surveyed nearly 1,500 others — including working and retired rabbis, current students, and seminary dropouts. They also interviewed leaders of rabbinical schools and associations, along with representatives of a wide range of rabbinic employers, while collecting recruitment and enrollment data.
Almost as notable as the findings is the diversity of those who took part. Participating organizations include every rabbinic institution from Reconstructionist and Reform to Conservative and Modern Orthodox, as well as all major non-denominational programs. Participation also came from umbrella groups representing Jewish summer camps, community centers, federations, and Hillel chapters. (Haredi Judaism was outside the study’s scope.)
“It’s a groundbreaking effort because there’s never been a comprehensive study of the rabbinate before, but it didn’t take much persuasion to get broad participation,” Atra’s executive director, Rabbi Shira Koch Epstein, said in an interview.
She described an eagerness to get involved that was motivated by years of debate about the issues addressed in the study. In one breakthrough, Atra convened dozens of leaders of institutions and programs that cultivate Jewish leaders and ordain rabbis, spanning the denominational range, for a brainstorming session about tackling the rabbinic pipeline.
“Everyone’s been trying to address the problems and the challenges, and we haven’t actually had any shared good information and data to help us do that,” Epstein said. “People actually want to work together on this, because they recognize that no one can do it alone.”
The study does not offer hard and fast solutions, instead positioning itself as a “mirror and a map” for collective action. Here are some of the highlights.
1. Only about half of all rabbis work in synagogues.
Those who do tend to find their job overly stressful and exhausting. Other kinds of rabbinical jobs offer much higher job satisfaction.
About 56% of rabbis are in pulpit jobs. The rest work for nonprofits, as chaplains, for day schools and universities or as independent entrepreneurs. The researchers spoke to 222 people who have held jobs in both categories. They said that working for a synagogue pays better but that, by every other metric of job satisfaction, working outside the synagogue is significantly better.
The study highlights this difference but also notes with a tone of reassurance and awe that 97% of all rabbis said their jobs are rewarding.
2. After years of decline, rabbinical school enrollment appears to be stabilizing.
The widespread perception that the major denominational seminaries are graduating fewer students while newer and non-denominational schools are growing is validated in the study. The latter are now producing slightly more rabbis than the former. Over the past five years, enrollment declines at Conservative and Reform seminaries have stopped, suggesting that they’ve reached a new normal.
3. Most rabbinical students are women and most are LGBTQ. Many are converts.
Rabbinical students today reflect a far more diverse cohort than in the past. According to the Atra report, 58% identify as women, 30% as men, and 12% as nonbinary.
An estimated 51% identify as LGBTQ, a contrast made starker with survey data collected in the same study showing that only 15% of rabbis ordained 10 to 20 years ago are LGBTQ.
Meanwhile, 16% of rabbinical students are Jews by choice and 12% identify as a race other than white.
Both Atra and the researchers they commissioned to carry out the study caution against drawing sensational conclusions about the growing diversity. “There’s no data-driven evidence as to why it’s happening and what the implications of it are yet to be known,” Wendy Rosov, the study’s lead researcher, said in an interview.
4. Views about Israel or Zionism don’t factor heavily into decisions about whether to become a rabbi.
The past few years have seen some students drop out of rabbinical school in protest of what they say is anti-Zionism in the student body and dozens of students signing on to petitions that are harshly critical of Israel.
Atra didn’t collect data on how current and future rabbis feel about Israel. But it did check how whatever view they held factored into their motivation for the job. Only a small minority said they wanted to become rabbis as a way to promote Israel and an even smaller minority said they were worried of being silenced regarding their criticism of Israel.
The motivating factors people most often checked often were “a desire to serve others,” “I felt called by my love of Judaism,” “An interest in deepening their knowledge of Jewish text and traditions,” and “a desire to teach.”
5. A wave of rabbinic retirements is looming.
The Atra report estimates there are about 4,100 rabbis currently working across congregations, schools, nonprofits, campuses, and chaplaincies. But the profession is getting older only 6% are under 35, while a quarter are over 65.
With most rabbis ordained in their mid-30s and many staying in their roles for decades, the report warns that retirements may soon outnumber new entrants unless younger Jews are drawn into the field.
The report closes on a note of cautious optimism, calling for collective action rather than quick fixes. It outlines nine areas where collaboration could make the biggest difference — from easing the financial burden of rabbinical training to modernizing education, expanding non-congregational careers, and improving mentorship. Epstein is hopeful that the collaborative spirit embodied in the summer gathering could translate into shared solutions.
“This is a surmountable challenge,” she said.
The post First-ever empirical study of US rabbinate finds ‘shortage’ is more about fit than numbers appeared first on The Forward.
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Trump formally requests pardon in Israeli legal system for Benjamin Netanyahu
(JTA) — President Donald Trump has made official a suggestion that he first issued on the floor of Israel’s parliament: that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu should be pardoned preemptively for his alleged crimes.
Trump made the case in a letter to Israeli President Isaac Herzog that Herzog’s office released on Wednesday. In it, Trump calls Netanyahu a “formidable and decisive War Time Prime Minister” and characterizes his prosecution as “lawfare,” a term that when used pejoratively refers to the misuse of legal systems to achieve ideological ends.
“Prime Minister Netanyahu has stood tall for Israel in the face of strong adversaries and long odds, and his attention cannot be unnecessarily diverted,” Trump writes.
He adds, “While I absolutely respect the independence of the Israeli Justice System and its requirements, I believe that this case against Bibi, who has fought alongside me for a long time, including against the very top adversary of Israel, Iran, is a political unjustified prosecution.”
The letter represents the kind of insertion into Israeli domestic politics that would have drawn ire in the past but have become relatively commonplace during Trump’s norm-busting second term. It follows Trump’s successful push for Israel to strike a ceasefire deal with Hamas that freed the Israeli hostages and suspended the two-year war in Gaza, and comes as Trump is seeking to safeguard the peace. Trump says in the letter that Netanyahu’s leadership is essential for allowing Israel to move forward.
“Now that we have achieved these unprecedented successes, and are keeping Hamas in check, it is time to let be reunite Israel by pardoning him and ending this lawfare, once and for all,” Trump concludes, ending with one of his signature signoffs. “Thank you for your attention to this matter.”
Unlike in the United States, where Trump has pardoned a number of political allies, including this week, Israel does not typically grant preemptive pardons. Netanyahu has not been convicted of any crimes.
Netanyahu has three legal cases open against him, on charges of fraud, bribery and breach of trust. They relate to allegations that he accepted lavish gifts in exchange for political favors and that he used his position to secure positive media coverage. The trial in the cases began in 2020 and has proceeded in fits and starts, with hearings routinely canceled as Netanyahu attends to Israel’s affairs, including the multi-front war and a protest movement that Netanyahu and his allies allege has been stoked through foreign interference.
Yair Lapid, the leader of the opposition, dismissed both the prospect of a pardon and Trump’s letter. On X, he said that Israeli law required those receiving pardons to admit guilt and show remorse — neither of which Netanyahu has yet done. In the Knesset, he said, “We are a sovereign state. There is a limit to intervention.”
Herzog’s office issued a statement praising Trump’s efforts in the Middle East but emphasizing that requests for pardons must come through Israel’s official process, which requires that people directly implicated in the case, or their immediate family members, must file a formal request.
“The president holds great respect for President Trump and repeatedly has repeatedly expressed his appreciation for Trump’s unwavering support of Israel and his tremendous contribution to the return of the hostages, the reshaping of the Middle East and Gaza, and the safeguarding of Israel’s security,” the president’s office said in a statement. “Without detracting from the above, as the president has made clear on multiple occasions, anyone seeking a pardon must submit a formal request in accordance with the established procedures.”
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