Reading from a Torah scroll in accordance with Sephardi tradition. Photo: Sagie Maoz via Wikimedia Commons.

We Jews have always liked to argue about religion, and everything from kashrut to conversion. Often these differences are far from polite. In every branch and variation of Judaism (as elsewhere), there are sects and extremes, iconoclasts and revisionists, insiders and outsiders. It pains me that we seem so incapable of overcoming such differences and conflicts amicably.

There is an axiom in religious life (all religions, not just Judaism) that those more religious than you are fanatics, and anyone less religious is a doomed sinner. The joke may be extreme, but I think we can all relate to the sentiment.

I could never understand why, for many years, the established Orthodoxy was opposed to going to and teaching at Jewish conferences simply because there might also be people there whose ideas about Judaism they did not share. Neither could I understand the argument that one should not go to Reform communities to teach Torah. On the contrary, if they are so misled by their heretical rabbis, surely it would only be beneficial to go and share another point of view — unless one is so insecure that there might be a risk of backsliding.

The Lubavitch movement is successful precisely because it does not prejudge, and regards every Jew as worthy of attention, regardless of background. And on the other side, anyone vaguely familiar with Reform Judaism in Israel and much of the Diaspora knows that much (not all) of it is seriously trying to come to terms with how to get back to a more traditional way of life with more Hebrew and study.

Of course, as a traditionalist, I disagree with those who make light of our religious traditions and laws. But to some extent, we all choose what to focus on and what not to. I can understand communities that want to preserve their specific identities by excluding those who wish to undermine them. But we can still treat others with tolerance and understanding out of simple good manners. We are such a small people, we cannot afford to lose even more people than we do through ignorance and defection. And thank goodness for those of all variations we welcome in with open doors.

I may not agree with much of Reform ideology and ritual, but I also believe Orthodoxy could have and should be much more flexible. I admire a great deal in the Haredi world, but I think they are seriously mistaken over their attitude to serving Israel’s military needs. And I deplore Neturei Karta’s support of Iranian mass murderers, as I do secular Israelis who want to undermine the Jewish State. Opposition comes from both sides.

There is a Talmudic principle that a Jewish child captured by non-Jews, a Tinnok SheNishba, could not possibly be found guilty of breaking Jewish law since he (or she) would have had no positive experiences of it to be able to make a positive decision. The saintly rabbi known as the Chafetz Chaim (Yisrael Meir Kagan 1838-1933) used this to argue that most modern Jews have never experienced the passion and intensity of genuine Torah spirituality, and therefore cannot be blamed for rejecting something they know nothing of. You can only be a genuine heretic if you really know what it is you are rebelling against!

I would welcome anyone, no matter who, from whatever background, who wanted to identify as a Jew, study and participate. They should be welcomed and encouraged to explore the varieties of Jewish experience and decide where they fit in. And we should do our best to draw them closer and help with any problems of integration they might face.

On Pesach, we will read about the four different sons including the “bad one” with different approaches to Torah. But at least they sat around the same table and were participating in the Seder.

We should use Torah to bring Jews closer — including those who have drifted, and the misguided ones — not to insult them and push them further away just because they have a different view than ours.

The author is a writer and rabbi, based in New York.

Smoke rises after reported Iranian missile attacks, following United States and Israel strikes on Iran, as seen from Doha, Qatar, March 1, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Mohammed Salem

Iran’s latest missile and drone strikes across the Gulf signal a dangerous strategic shift. What once appeared to be a confrontation primarily between Tehran, Israel, and the United States is rapidly transforming into a wider regional conflict. By conducting military assaults on Saudi Arabia, Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, and Bahrain, the Islamic Republic has effectively widened the battlefield and placed the stability of the entire Middle East at risk.

On March 7, 2026, Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian publicly apologized to Iran’s Gulf neighbors after Iranian missile and drone strikes triggered air defense alerts in those states. In a televised statement, he expressed regret for the attacks and claimed that Tehran would halt strikes on neighboring countries unless attacks against Iran originated from their territory. But even as he spoke, air defense sirens and missile interceptions were continuing across the Gulf region. Then the government walked the statement back.

For many countries in the Middle East, the contradiction is glaring. Iran’s apology appeared less a genuine effort at de-escalation and more a familiar Iranian tactic: spinning rhetorical damage control while continuing its aggression.

This pattern is hardly new. For decades, the Islamic Republic has pursued a strategy that blends diplomacy, denial, and deception with relentless expansionism. The result is a geopolitical doctrine aimed not merely at confronting Israel or the United States, but at reshaping the entire Middle East under Tehran’s ideological and strategic dominance.

Iranian leaders have long framed their military posture as defensive, but the reality unfolding across the Middle East tells a very different story. Missiles fired toward Saudi territory, drones intercepted over Gulf cities, and attacks linked to Iranian proxies across multiple theaters point to a broader strategy of coercion. Rather than confining its conflict to direct adversaries, Tehran is increasingly pressuring neutral or semi-neutral states in order to expand the battlefield.

The remarks of Muhammad‑Bagher Ghalibaf, speaker of Iran’s parliament, made this explicit. Ghalibaf declared on social media that Iran’s defense doctrine follows the ideological guidance of the Islamic Republic’s revolutionary leadership and warned that peace will remain impossible as long as American military bases exist in the region.

This statement was effectively a strategic threat to every Middle Eastern state hosting American forces. It confirmed what regional leaders have long suspected: Iran views the entire Gulf security architecture, not merely Israel, as a legitimate target.

One of the most striking aspects of Iran’s recent escalation is that it has drawn states into the conflict that were actively attempting to avoid confrontation. Countries across the Gulf Cooperation Council had pursued diplomatic efforts to reduce tensions between Iran and its adversaries. Oman, for example, had played a leading mediating role in discussions surrounding Iran’s nuclear program.

Yet Iranian missiles and drones have now placed these very states directly in the line of fire. Strategically, this approach is baffling. By striking Gulf territories or allowing projectiles to fall near critical infrastructure, Tehran risks transforming potential mediators into determined adversaries. Analysts have long warned that attacks on Gulf states could collapse the region’s delicate neutrality and push Arab governments into closer alignment with the United States and Israel. In other words, Iran’s escalation may be strengthening the very coalition it claims to oppose.

The Islamic Republic’s behavior cannot be understood purely in military terms. At its core lies an ideological framework embedded in the doctrine of Vilayat-e-Faqih: “Guardianship of the Islamic Jurist.” This system, created after the Iranian Revolution, grants ultimate political authority to the clerical leadership rather than elected institutions. The result is a hybrid regime in which electoral politics exist but real power rests with a religious elite that defines foreign policy through ideological confrontation.

For this leadership, regional dominance is not merely a strategic ambition. It is a revolutionary obligation. From Iraq to Syria, Lebanon, and Yemen, Tehran has cultivated proxy networks that extend its influence far beyond its borders. These networks allow Iran to wage asymmetric warfare while maintaining plausible deniability. The expansion of this strategy into the Gulf itself marks a new and dangerous phase.

Iran’s confrontation with Gulf states is not only militarily reckless. It is economically self-destructive. The Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz form one of the most vital arteries of global commerce. Disruptions in the region affect energy markets, maritime trade routes, and strategic industrial supply chains.

Iranian actions that threaten shipping lanes risk destabilizing not only regional economies but also global technological industries. Qatar, for example, plays a significant role in the export of helium, a critical resource used in semiconductor manufacturing and advanced technologies. Any disruption in Gulf logistics reverberates across industries ranging from artificial intelligence to aerospace.

If Tehran’s objective is to impose costs on its adversaries, it must recognize that such disruptions will also inevitably damage Iran itself. Economic isolation, sanctions pressure, and investor flight are predictable consequences of escalating regional conflict. In strategic terms, Iran’s current approach resembles an “economic own goal” — a policy that undermines its own long-term stability.

The Islamic Republic’s external aggression reflects deep internal vulnerabilities. Years of economic hardship, corruption scandals, and political repression have eroded public confidence in the ruling establishment. Anti-government protests have repeatedly shaken the regime, revealing widespread dissatisfaction across Iranian society. The leadership in Tehran therefore faces a familiar dilemma.

Authoritarian systems often attempt to consolidate power by redirecting domestic frustration toward external enemies. Foreign confrontation becomes a tool for internal cohesion. In this context, escalation abroad may serve a political purpose at home: reinforcing the narrative that Iran is surrounded by hostile forces and must rally behind its revolutionary leadership. Yet such strategies carry enormous risk. History demonstrates that regimes relying on external conflict to sustain legitimacy often accelerate their own downfall.

The Middle East now faces a critical strategic question: Will Iran’s campaign of intimidation continue unchecked, or will the threatened regional states coordinate a collective response? The growing convergence of security interests between Israel and several Arab states represents one possible outcome. Iranian escalation may inadvertently accelerate regional cooperation against Tehran’s ambitions. The normalization processes that began in recent years could gain renewed urgency if the Gulf states conclude that Iran’s threats are directed not only at Israel but at the entire regional order.

At the same time, the United States remains a central factor in the strategic equation. In Tehran’s calculus, American military installations across the Gulf serve as both deterrents and potential targets. Iran’s repeated warnings about these bases indicate that the regime views the broader American security architecture as a critical obstacle to its regional ambitions.

Another factor shaping Iran’s future is the question of leadership. The Islamic Republic now faces a profound political vacuum. Despite widespread dissatisfaction with the regime, no unified opposition figure has yet emerged capable of mobilizing the population around a coherent alternative vision. This absence of leadership allows the ruling clerical establishment to maintain its grip on power even as public frustration grows. Yet history suggests that such conditions rarely remain static. The pressures created by economic stagnation, international isolation, and internal dissent can eventually converge to bring about transformative political change.

For Iran, the central challenge is whether a new leadership capable of reconciling the country with its neighbors and the international community will emerge before the current system pushes the region into wider conflict.

The Iranian regime’s recent missile and drone attacks across the Gulf reveal a dangerous strategic reality: Tehran’s confrontation is no longer limited to Israel or the United States. It is evolving into a broader campaign of intimidation against the entire Middle Eastern order.

By targeting or threatening Gulf states that had sought neutrality, the Islamic Republic risks uniting the region against it. By escalating military pressure while offering hollow diplomatic apologies, it exposes the contradiction at the heart of its strategy. And by prioritizing ideological confrontation over economic stability, it places the welfare of the Iranian people at risk.

If the current trajectory continues, Iran will not succeed in dominating the Middle East. Instead, it may accomplish the opposite — driving its neighbors, the United States, and Israel into an increasingly unified coalition determined to contain the ambitions of a regime whose revolutionary ideology has turned regional leadership into a permanent state of war.

Salah Uddin Shoaib Choudhury is editor of the Bangladesh-based publication Blitz and a commentator on Islamist extremism, terrorism, and South Asian geopolitics. A version of this article was originally published by The BESA Center.

FBI agents work on the site after the Michigan State Police reported an active shooting incident at the Temple Israel Synagogue in West Bloomfield, Michigan, US, March 12, 2026. Photo: Rebecca Cook via Reuters Connect

On the night of Purim, gunfire struck Temple Emanu-El in Toronto. Families had gathered to celebrate one of the most joyful nights in the Jewish calendar. Children wear costumes on Purim. The Megillah is read aloud. The story of survival is retold with laughter and noise. This year, the sound that reached the synagogue walls was different. Bullets struck the building. No one was injured, but the meaning of the moment was unmistakable.

The attack happened during a holiday that commemorates an ancient attempt to destroy the Jewish people. The story of Purim describes a decree calling for the extermination of Jews in the Persian empire. The ending is remembered as a victory of survival and courage. Jews have celebrated that memory for centuries. It reminds them that Jewish history has often required vigilance alongside celebration.

The gunfire in Toronto belongs to that same long narrative. It also reflects a reality that many Jewish communities are now confronting across North America and Europe. Synagogues are no longer viewed solely as places of prayer. They have become targets. Security guards stand outside buildings that once left their doors open. Cameras watch entrances that once welcomed anyone who wished to enter.

Recent attacks include the assault on a synagogue in Michigan — where security prevented the loss of so many innocents — and the bombing of a Jewish school in Amsterdam. And these are only a fraction of the attacks we are seeing.

These changes did not arrive overnight. They emerged slowly as incidents accumulated. Vandalism became more common. Threats increased. Demonstrations near Jewish institutions sometimes turned hostile. Communities adapted because they had to. Responsible leaders took steps to protect congregants and children. Security training replaced assumptions of safety.

In my work teaching personal safety and threat awareness to Jewish communities in New York, I see a pattern that security professionals understand well. Violence rarely appears without warning. It develops through signals that people either recognize or ignore. Communities that train themselves to observe early indicators of danger develop a very different mindset. The conversation moves from fear to preparation. Many families have begun discussing how to recognize early signs long before a situation becomes violent.

Adaptation has consequences beyond physical protection. When protective measures become routine, they shape expectations. A generation of Jewish children is growing up understanding that their synagogue may require guards and barriers. They see adults discussing security plans before holidays. They learn early that Jewish spaces can attract hostility.

Parents struggle with what that reality means for their children. Every family wants to raise confident and proud young people. At the same time parents carry a responsibility to protect them. Those responsibilities sometimes collide. A parent may quietly suggest removing a Star of David necklace before entering a crowded public place. Another may encourage a child to avoid drawing attention to Jewish identity outside familiar environments.

The intention behind those conversations is safety. The lesson that children absorb is more complicated. Identity becomes something that must be measured against risk. Visibility becomes a calculation.

Jewish communities have encountered this dilemma before. In many countries during the 20th century Jewish institutions tried to blend into their surroundings. Buildings were designed to appear anonymous from the outside. Public celebrations were kept small and quiet. These strategies were understandable responses to hostility. They also carried a hidden cost. A community that minimizes its own presence begins to internalize the idea that its existence is controversial.

The deeper question raised by the recent attacks is therefore larger than a few incidents. What does it mean for Jewish identity when celebration takes place under visible threat?

Purim is meant to be loud and joyful. Children shake noisemakers during the reading of the Megillah to drown out the name of Haman, the villain of the story. The holiday invites laughter and participation. When a synagogue is targeted during that celebration, the message being sent is meant to interrupt that spirit. Violence directed at Jewish institutions seeks to narrow the space in which Jewish life can exist comfortably in public.

From a security perspective, intimidation works only when it quietly reshapes behavior. That is why attacks on places of worship carry symbolic weight. They are meant to change how people gather, how they celebrate, and how visible they are willing to be.

The responsibility for confronting that intimidation does not fall on Jewish communities alone. Democratic societies depend on the ability of religious groups to gather freely. When a synagogue becomes a target, the principle being challenged is the freedom of a minority to live visibly and confidently within the broader society.

Political leaders often express support for Jewish communities after incidents occur. Words matter, yet words alone cannot shape the culture in which these incidents take place. A society communicates its values through consistency. Hatred directed at Jews must be treated with the same seriousness that any other form of bigotry receives. When condemnation becomes selective, trust erodes.

Jewish communities also face an internal decision about how they will respond. Fear can lead to retreat. Retreat may offer temporary comfort, yet it quietly reshapes identity over time.

Another response is possible. Communities can acknowledge danger without allowing it to define their future. Preparation and awareness can strengthen confidence rather than diminish it. Schools, synagogues, and community centers increasingly understand that training and preparedness save lives. In many cities, institutions now conduct active shooter training because the first minutes of a crisis often determine whether people escape safely.

Purim itself carries that lesson. The holiday remembers a time when Jews faced an existential threat and responded with courage and unity. The story has endured for centuries because it speaks to a recurring experience. Jewish life has often continued under pressure that might have erased weaker communities.

A community that continues to celebrate its traditions openly sends a message of its own. Jewish life will not be reduced to silence or caution. Holidays will still be celebrated. Synagogues will still gather families and children.

The story of Purim ends with survival. Each year Jews retell it as a reminder that history does not belong only to those who threaten violence. It also belongs to those who refuse to surrender their place in the world.

Do something amazing,

Tsahi Shemesh is an Israeli-American IDF veteran and the founder of Krav Maga Experts in NYC. A father and educator, he writes about Jewish identity, resilience, moral courage, and the ethics of strength in a time of rising antisemitism.