Uncategorized
From Jerusalem’s Old City, a book that defies Israel’s media image
A few years ago, I followed the author and journalist Sarah Tuttle-Singer deep into Jerusalem’s Old City searching for the best za’atar.
To be clear, I was searching. She knew exactly where to go.
Sarah plunged through the crowded, narrow market streets of the Shuq Attarin, or Perfumers Market, whose vaulted ceilings and open stalls served Crusaders and Mamluks. She turned at signless intersections and slipped through nameless passageways, before stopping at a mad scrum of customers outside a small, open shop.
“Here it is,” Sarah said. “The best.”
An elderly man filled orders from barrels of spices and shelves of herbs, potions and remedies. When we managed to grab his attention, Sarah used her surprisingly decent Arabic to order me a kilo.
It tasted nothing like the spice mix I was stuck buying in L.A. The wild oregano that forms the floral, green base of the mixture carried notes of cumin, caraway and dandelion. The sumac, salt and ground sesame made it bright and earthy at once — a blend of disparate flavors that don’t obviously belong together but somehow do.
“How did you find this place?” I asked Sarah.
“I mean, I live here.”
Sarah was raised in Venice Beach and moved to Israel in 2011 with her two children and then-husband, an Israeli. She began writing for The Times of Israel and eventually moved into the Old City itself. We long ago bonded over our common love of Jerusalem, journalism — and Venice Beach.
Her latest book, Fairy Lights in God’s Backyard , is her second nonfiction book about life inside those ancient walls. I loved her first, Jerusalem, Drawn and Quartered, but I wondered, how much more is there to say?
The answer is: plenty. The Oct. 7 massacre. The destruction of Gaza. The Iran missile barrages. A new child. A near-death explosion. All of it filtered through a sharp, sensitive observer living among Jews, Muslims and Christians in the most contested third of a square mile on Earth. I opened the book at 11 a.m. and finished it by 4 p.m., leaving behind circled passages, dog-eared pages and margin notes.
‘The least political way to tell the truth’
Her passage on the local grocery is a good place to start. “There is a shelf in a corner market that doesn’t make sense,” begins one of the book’s many short chapters. Sarah describes a single shelf stocked haphazardly with Bulgarian jam, Italian pasta, Polish pickles, Armenian spice mix, and “tahina labeled in Arabic, Hebrew and Turkish.” She asked the shopkeeper why he kept such a jumble of far-flung ingredients in one place. “People keep asking for home,” he said.
Shoppers stop in front of that shelf, she writes — sometimes with a nostalgic look, a lump in the throat; sometimes to argue over a recipe, pulling items out, putting them back, defying any order. The shopkeeper gave up trying to organize it.
“Jerusalem, after all, does not behave politely or geographically,” Sarah writes. “It stacks centuries on top of each other and calls it a street. It builds apartments on Crusader arches and prays in languages that never learned to forgive each other. Why should a shelf obey borders that people themselves could not?”
Sometimes, she writes, a conversation starts in front of that shelf. My mother used to make this. We ate this only on holidays. You can’t get the good kind anymore. The shopkeeper, she writes, “understands something important: that in Jerusalem, food is often the least political way to tell the truth. You can argue borders for hours, but you cannot argue the taste of something that raised you.”
An apartment on the seam
It’s the same lesson, I realized later, sitting behind that scrum in the Perfumers Market: My kilo of za’atar was itself a shelf of sorts, oregano, sumac and sesame, none of it asking permission to belong together.
The Old City is divided into four quarters — Arab, Jewish, Armenian and Christian. Sarah moved into her last apartment there in October 2025, on the seam between the Jewish and Armenian Quarters, where Armenian conversation mixed with church bells and the Hebrew songs of schoolchildren next door.
The apartment itself crossed borders. It was built over a Byzantine well that connects to a system of Roman tunnels; the walls themselves were “much newer” — 17th century. She moved in with her toddler son and made it a home, decorating in bright colors and pastels, a style she calls “Mad Hatter in Ottoman Jerusalem,” and planted rosemary, lavender, mint, sage and, yes, za’atar on the roof. Even her garden was a small act of layering something new onto something ancient.
The war in a stone well
From that sweet base, she recorded a particularly fraught stretch in an always-fraught city. Her downstairs neighbor, Claire, whom she greeted several times a day, kept asking Sarah to explain how it is that she, an old woman, outlived her young son.
It’s a question Sarah has heard so many Israeli and Palestinian mothers ask since Oct. 7. “Every time I heard Claire ask why she was still here instead of her son, I heard echoes of mothers everywhere who have asked the same impossible question,” she writes.
Then the Iran war began and the sirens wailed, and each time, Sarah and her neighbors rushed down into the 1,500-year-old Byzantine well to wait out the incoming missiles: the ancient Armenian priest, the chain-smoking French tourists, the Arab TV broadcaster and his extended family, children scared of ghosts, the pedantic American with his “thirty-two-minute breakdown of geopolitical implications,” Muslims, Christians, Jews, and a pit bull named Baku — all brought together hoping to survive the mullahs’ wrath, “a regional war compressed into a stone cylinder beneath the Old City.”
The shelf upstairs holds whatever people ask for. The well below holds whoever happens to be home when the sirens go off. Between the two, Sarah keeps finding the same unlikely arrangement: people who don’t agree on much, sharing space anyway because the ground gives them no other choice.
There are other moments, too, when Sarah watches the divisions that outsiders think define Israel and Jerusalem melt away. When a fire breaks out and residents pour from their homes to help extinguish it. When she suffers an unexplained cardiac event one evening, and friends and neighbors show up to rush her to the ER.
“The paramedics arrived and so did, apparently, half the neighborhood,” she writes. “I haven’t seen this many Jews and Arabs crammed into one small room since the Oslo Accords.”
‘A deep, abiding care’
That’s what makes the book such a beautiful and important read. The hope it offers is earned. Sarah isn’t naive about the violence, fear and resentment tearing her society apart, but she also lives out something most of us, and most of the media, miss: a deep undercurrent of shared humanity running through that land as well.
That became vividly clear when her own sweet apartment blew up — a faulty propane tank burst, collapsing her home around her. The experience sent her through her own cycle of grief, exile and return. Friends, neighbors and strangers — Arab, Jewish, Armenian — rushed to her aid, literally dug her out of the wreckage, then helped her rebuild.
“In the smoke — acrid and choking — there was also something else rising,” she writes. “A deep, abiding care for one another. The kind that lives here but doesn’t make headlines.”
It took me more than a year, but I eventually worked my way through the little pillowcase of za’atar I’d carried home from the Old City that day — folded into turnovers, dusted over roasted vegetables, and, most often, the way it appears on nearly every Palestinian table: pooled in olive oil atop labne.
On my last trip to Israel, I met Sarah and her boyfriend for a drink at Hataklit, a neighborhood bar near Zion Square. She and her son have found a new place. She’s still at The Times of Israel, now writing a feature called Peoples of Israel, profiling an endlessly interesting cast of characters. And to share her love of Jerusalem’s people, cultures and food, she’s even leading occasional tours through the Old City.
If you go, I recommend the za’atar. It won’t taste like anywhere else — which, if Sarah’s book is right, is exactly the point.
A version of this essay first appeared in Rob Eshman’s Substack, Foodaism.
The post From Jerusalem’s Old City, a book that defies Israel’s media image appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Do you suffer from ‘Israel Derangement Syndrome’? This ad says there’s a cure
It opens like a two-minute infomercial pulled off a 1990s VHS tape. Soft lighting, Clinton-era fashion, a narrator whose voice has the reassuring cadence of a prescription drug ad. “Do you or someone you love suffer from Israel Derangement Syndrome?” he asks.
The two-minute ad has become one of the most-shared clips on Jewish and pro-Israel social media this week — posted Wednesday morning, it garnered 2.6 million views on X by Thursday afternoon.
“Israel Derangement Syndrome” is presented like a real illness, complete with a fictional treatment center, the Clarity Center, and patients who describe “recovering.” The “symptoms” are a list of ways people criticize Israel and its supporters — bringing up the conflict unprompted, refusing to see any other issue in the world as important, being unable to acknowledge nuance. The “cure,” according to the ad, is just reading more and checking your sources. It ends with a rapid-fire list of side effects: “reading past the headline, a sudden interest in Middle East history, and a constant urge to touch grass.”
The ad’s target is obvious: people who are sharply critical of Israel. The name isn’t new. It’s modeled on “Trump Derangement Syndrome,” a term used to dismiss criticism of the president as pathology.
Why it lands the way it does
Anita Atwell Seate, a professor of communication at the University of Maryland who studies how people’s group identities shape the way they respond to criticism, called what’s happening in the video a textbook case of tribalism.
Our group memberships, she said, shape our psychological processes, since they’re so tied to our sense of self. That pushes us to process information in self-protective ways: “When we feel good about our social groups,” she said, “we feel good about ourselves.”
There’s a well-documented pattern researchers call the “intergroup sensitivity effect,” where people are far more willing to accept criticism from members of their own group than from people they see as outsiders. When criticism comes from outside, the instinct isn’t to engage with it; it’s to discredit whoever’s delivering it. “They’re deranged, they don’t understand facts,” Atwell Seate said, describing that reflex, which is more or less the whole premise of the ad.
She doesn’t see the video as an attempt at persuasion at all. “It doesn’t do anything to help change hearts and minds of the out-group,” she said “But it certainly does something important for the in-group, which is reify their beliefs.” Videos like this, she says, are like a pep talk — aimed at people who already agree, meant to bring them closer together.
Where it came from
It’s not entirely clear who actually made the video. What’s clear is that it was shared — and got millions of views — from an X account called the Trencher Broadcasting Company, whose bio reads: “Building the future of AI media. Mostly satire, always entertaining.” It appears to have been made with AI video tools, part of a broader wave of AI-generated political videos that have flooded social media this year.
TBC has posted this kind of thing before. Last week, the account shared an AI-fabricated video appearing to show Michigan Senate candidate Dr. Abdul El-Sayed and YouTube personality Ms. Rachel discussing Israeli “colonizers” with children — a conversation that never actually happened.
Ms. Rachel had, notably, donated to El-Sayed’s campaign, and both have been outspoken advocates for children in Gaza, which may have inspired the video.
The “Israel Derangement Syndrome” video ends with a display of fake contact info, which comes with its own punchline.
Call the phone number and it’s like spinning a roulette wheel. The first time I called, the robotic voice wanted to sell me a home security system. The second time: a medical alert device. And the third time, I got this message: “If you received a call displaying this telephone number on your caller ID, it has been spoofed, meaning the caller ID has been faked by a scammer trying to hide their actual telephone number. We are sorry this is occurring. Unfortunately, we cannot stop this from happening.”
The ad also promotes a website IDSHelp.org, a domain that was registered on Tuesday and redirects to DerekhLearning.com, the homepage of an AI-powered app for studying Torah and Talmud. It’s a fitting coda for a video built around telling people to check their sources.
The post Do you suffer from ‘Israel Derangement Syndrome’? This ad says there’s a cure appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Did this field trip to a mosque violate the First Amendment? A group of Palo Alto parents think so.
A group of Jewish, Hindu and Zoroastrian parents and students are suing a California school district, alleging that a high school program’s field trip to a mosque — and no other houses of worship — violated the First Amendment.
The suit, brought forth by Community Members for Religious Neutrality in Public Schools – San Francisco Bay Area, focuses on two trips that were part of a social justice program at Palo Alto High School.
According to the complaint filed in the Northern District of California on August 7: “The district failed to maintain religious neutrality, failed to ensure equal treatment among faiths, failed to protect student privacy and failed to vet, supervise, and monitor religiously divisive outside speakers during the school-sponsored event.”
Community Members for Religious Neutrality in Public Schools nor the Palo Alto Unified School District immediately responded to requests for comment.
The trip was part of Palo Alto High’s Social Justice Pathway, where according to a promotional video, students in 10th through 12th grades take English and history courses “through a social justice lens rather than the standard analytical lens, where facts and dates are memorized.” Palo Alto High started the program in 2014.
Field trips around the Bay Area are a hallmark of the program, including travels to Angel Island, where many Asian immigrants arrived in the U.S. in the early 20th century, and to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Students also have heard from a variety of speakers, including a Holocaust survivor and a Cambodian refugee.
The field trips to the mosque happened in 2022 and 2025. The plaintiffs include three Jewish Palo Alto High students, at least one of whom took part in the Social Justice Pathway.
The parent plaintiffs allege that the school had not fully informed them that their children were going to participate in “religiously inflected activity.”
According to the complaint, female students were encouraged to observe the customary dress code of wearing head coverings inside the mosque. They also observed a midday prayer, interacted with participants of a Quran memorization program, received Qurans as gifts and were “taught that Islam, in particular, promotes social justice,” the suit says.
“[The plaintiffs] belong to religious traditions that practice social justice,” the suit says. “The government’s endorsement of Islam in particular as a social justice faith denigrates their respective traditions and their identities as members of faith communities due equal treatment and appreciation within the District, State and country.”
The plaintiffs allege that the visit violated the First Amendment, since the public school was promoting a specific religion, and the 14th amendment, for elevating one religion over others.
A student at Palo Alto High who is part of the Social Justice Pathway disagreed, describing it as part of a broader religion unit.
“There was never a point on this trip where I felt in any way that the mosque or the school was trying to even suggest conversion,” he wrote in an Instagram comment on a local news post about the lawsuit. “The goal was obvious to us: Learn about an underrepresented religion present in our community.”
But plaintiffs also objected to the history of one of the speakers. Zahra Billoo, the executive director of the San Francisco Bay Area chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR), who has faced allegations of antisemitism.
In 2019, Billoo was removed from the board of the Women’s March for past remarks she had made. She faced criticism for a 2021 Facebook post, where she warned against “polite zionists” like Hilllel and the Jewish federations, saying “they are not your friends.” A tweet of hers from October 7, 2023, following the Hamas-led terrorist attacks against Israel, also has faced scrutiny: “Pray for Gaza. We are witnessing decolonization,” she wrote.
In an emailed statement to the Forward, Billoo wrote, “Public schools have an obligation to remain neutral toward religion, but neutrality does not mean shielding students from learning about religion or religious communities.”
“Visiting a mosque, observing Muslims practice their faith, or learning about Islam is not the same as being compelled to practice Islam,” she wrote. “We are concerned that this lawsuit risks turning ordinary engagement with Islam and Muslims into something suspicious and could have a chilling effect on educators who want their students to learn about the diverse communities around them.”
But plaintiffs said allowing Billoo to speak with the students demonstrated negligence on the part of the school.
“Ms. Billoo was allowed unfettered access to students to advocate personal religious and political views without balancing perspective or adequate supervision.”
The school also allowed photos of the high schoolers to be taken at the event without parents’ permission, the suit says.
The post Did this field trip to a mosque violate the First Amendment? A group of Palo Alto parents think so. appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Remains of last Israeli soldier missing from First Lebanon War’s Sultan Yacoub battle found
(JTA) — The remains of Yehuda Katz, the last Israeli soldier still missing from the 1982 Battle of Sultan Yacoub during the First Lebanon War, have been recovered after 44 years, the Israeli military said Tuesday, bringing to a close one of the country’s longest-running missing soldier cases.
Katz, a 22-year-old tank gunner and yeshiva student who disappeared just 10 days before he was due to complete his military service, was one of three soldiers whose fate was unknown for decades after Israeli forces became trapped by Syrian troops in Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley on June 11, 1982.
Twenty Israeli soldiers were killed and dozens more were wounded in the battle, with six initially listed as missing. Three were later returned or confirmed dead, leaving Katz, Zachary Baumel and Zvi Feldman as the only soldiers whose fate were unknown. The remains of Baumel and Feldman were recovered in separate operations in 2019 and 2025.
Katz’s remains were located during a special overnight operation carried out by the IDF in cooperation with Mossad and based on intelligence obtained in recent months. They were returned to Israel and military representatives informed Katz’s family of the discovery Tuesday morning.
For the soldiers who survived Sultan Yacoub, the news ended a wait that had followed them for much of their lives.
Avi Rath, who fought alongside Katz, said the unresolved fate of his comrade had stayed with him for decades. “The look on the family’s faces stays with you your entire life, a look that says, ‘You didn’t finish the job,’” Rath said in an interview on Tuesday with KAN public radio’s “Kalman Liberman” program. “Thank God, this closes a circle and resolves some of the uncertainty, but there is also great pain. It weighs on our conscience.”
Katz had studied in the Hesder program at Yeshivat Kerem B’Yavneh, combining Torah study with military service. According to the yeshiva, he slept barely four hours a night while immersed in his studies. He had planned to become a rabbi and teach at a yeshiva after completing his military service.
On the night before the battle, Katz gathered fellow soldiers around him and taught them Maimonides’ laws governing the conduct of Jewish soldiers in battle, the yeshiva said on its website. He then led them in singing Psalm 23, including the verse about walking through the valley of the shadow of death.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Remains of last Israeli soldier missing from First Lebanon War’s Sultan Yacoub battle found appeared first on The Forward.
