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How Jewish comedy found religion, from Philip Roth to ‘Broad City’
(JTA) — In the 2020 comedy “Shiva Baby,” a 20-something young woman shows up at a house of Jewish mourners and gently offers her condolences. When she finds her mother in the kitchen, they chat about the funeral and the rugelach before the daughter asks, “Mom, who died?”
While “Shiva Baby” explores themes of sexuality and gender, the comedy almost never comes at the expense of Jewish tradition, which is treated seriously by its millennial writer and director Emma Seligman (born in 1995) even as the shiva-goers collide. It’s far cry from the acerbic way an author raised during the Depression like Philip Roth lampooned a Jewish wedding or a baby boomer like Jerry Seinfeld mocked a bris.
These generational differences are explored in Jenny Caplan’s new book, “Funny, You Don’t Look Funny: Judaism and Humor from the Silent Generation to Millennials.” A religion scholar, Caplan writes about the way North American Jewish comedy has evolved since World War II, with a focus on how humorists treat Judaism as a religion. Her subjects range from writers and filmmakers who came of age shortly after the war (who viewed Judaism as “a joke at best and an actual danger at worst”) to Generation X and millennials, whose Jewish comedy often recognizes “the power of community, the value of family tradition, and the way that religion can serve as a port in an emotional storm.”
“I see great value in zeroing in on the ways in which Jewish humorists have engaged Jewish practices and their own Jewishness,” Caplan writes. “It tells us something (or perhaps it tells us many somethings) about the relationship between Jews and humor that goes deeper than the mere coincidence that a certain humorist was born into a certain family.”
Caplan is the chair in Judaic Studies at the University of Cincinnati. She has a master’s of theological studies degree from Harvard Divinity School and earned a Ph.D. in religion from Syracuse University.
In a conversation last week, we spoke about the Jewishness of Jerry Seinfeld, efforts by young women comics to reclaim the “Jewish American Princess” label, and why she no longer shows Woody Allen movies in her classrooms.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity
[Note: For the purpose of her book and our conversation, this is how Caplan isolates the generations: the Silent Generation (b. 1925-45), the baby boom (1946-65), Generation X (1966-79) and millennials (1980–95).]
Jewish Telegraphic Agency: Let me ask how you got into this topic.
Jenny Caplan: I grew up in a family where I was just sort of surrounded by this kind of material. My dad is a comedic actor and director who went to [Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey’s] Clown College. My degrees were more broadly in American religion, not Jewish studies, but I was really interested in the combination of American religion and popular culture. When I got to Syracuse and it came time to start thinking about my larger project and what I wanted to do, I proposed a dissertation on Jewish humor.
The key to your book is how Jewish humor reflects the Jewish identity and compulsions of four sequential generations. Let’s start with the Silent Generation, which is sandwiched between the generation whose men were old enough to fight in World War II and the baby boomers who were born just after the war.
The hallmark of the Silent Generation is that they were old enough to be aware of the war, but they were mostly too young to serve. Every time I told people what I was writing about, they would say Woody Allen or Philip Roth, two people of roughly the same generation.
In “Funny, You Don’t Look Funny: Judaism and Humor from the Silent Generation to Millennials,” Jenny Caplan explores how comics treated religion from the end of World War II to the 21st century. (Courtesy)
The Roth story you focus on is “Eli, the Fanatic” from 1959, about an assimilated Jewish suburb that is embarrassed and sort of freaks out when an Orthodox yeshiva, led by a Holocaust survivor, sets up in town.
Roth spent the first 20 to 30 years of his career dodging the claim of being a self-loathing Jew and bad for the Jews. But the actual social critique of “Eli, the Fanatic” is so sharp. It is about how American Jewish comfort comes at the expense of displaced persons from World War II and at the expense of those for whom Judaism is a real thriving, living religious practice.
That’s an example you offer when you write that the Silent Generation “may have found organized religion to be a dangerous force, but they nevertheless wanted to protect and preserve the Jewish people.” I think that would surprise people in regards to Roth, and maybe to some degree Woody Allen.
Yeah, it surprised me. They really did, I think, share that postwar Jewish sense of insecurity about ongoing Jewish continuity, and that there’s still an existential threat to the ongoing existence of Jews.
I hear that and I think of Woody Allen’s characters, atheists who are often on the lookout for antisemitism. But you don’t focus on Allen as the intellectual nebbish of the movies. You look at his satire of Jewish texts, like his very funny “Hassidic Tales, With a Guide to Their Interpretation by the Noted Scholar” from 1970, which appeared in The New Yorker. It’s a parody of Martin Buber’s “Tales of the Hasidim” and sentimental depictions of the shtetl, perhaps like “Fiddler on the Roof.” A reader might think he’s just mocking the tradition, but you think there’s something else going on.
He’s not mocking the tradition as much as he’s mocking a sort of consumerist approach to the tradition. There was this sort of very superficial attachment to Buber’s “Tales of the Hasidim.” Allen’s satire is not a critique of the traditions of Judaism, it’s a critique of the way that people latch onto things like the Kabbalah and these new English translations of Hasidic stories without any real depth of thought or intellect. Intellectual hypocrisy seems to be a common theme in his movies and in his writing. It’s really a critique of organized religion, and it’s a critique of institutions, and it’s a critique of the power of institutions. But it’s not a critique of the concept of religion.
The idea of making fun of the wise men and their gullible followers reminds me of the folk tales of Chelm, which feature rabbis and other Jewish leaders who use Jewish logic to come to illogical conclusions.
Yes.
You write that the baby boomers are sort of a transition between the Silent Generation and a later generation: They were the teenagers of the counterculture, and warned about the dangers of empty religion, but also came to consider religion and tradition as valuable. But before you get there, you have a 1977 “Saturday Night Live” skit in which a bris is performed in the back seat of a luxury car, and the rabbi who performs it is portrayed as what you call an absolute sellout.
Exactly. You know: Institutional religion is empty and it’s hollow, it’s dangerous and it’s seductive.
Jerry Seinfeld, born in 1954, is seen as an icon of Jewish humor, but to me is an example of someone who never depicts religion as a positive thing. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)
“Seinfeld” is more a show about New York than it is necessarily a show about anything Jewish. The New York of Seinfeld is very similar to the New York of Woody Allen, peopled almost entirely by white, middle-class, attractive folks. It’s a sort of Upper West Side myopia.
But there’s the bris episode, aired in 1993, and written by Larry Charles. Unless you are really interested in the medium, you may not know much about Larry Charles, because he stays behind the camera. But he also goes on to do things like direct Bill Maher’s anti-religion documentary “Religulous,” and there’s a real strong case for him as having very negative feelings about organized religion which feels like a holdover from the Silent Generation. And so in that episode you have Kramer as the Larry Charles stand-in, just opining about the barbaric nature of the circumcision and trying to save this poor baby from being mutilated.
The few references to actual Judaism in “Seinfeld” are squirmy. I am thinking of the 1995 episode in which a buffoon of a rabbi blurts out Elaine’s secrets on a TV show. That was written by Larry David, another boomer, whose follow-up series, “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” is similarly known for its irreverence toward Judaism. But you say David can also surprise you with a kind of empathy for religion.
For the most part, he’s classic, old school, anti-organized religion. There’s the Palestinian Chicken episode where the Jews are rabidly protesting the existence of a Palestinian-run chicken restaurant near a Jewish deli, and where his friend Funkhouser won’t play golf on Shabbos until Larry gets permission by bribing the rabbi with the Palestinian chicken. There, rabbis are ridiculous and can be bought and religion is hollow and this is all terrible.
But then there’s this bat mitzvah montage where for one moment in the entire run of this show, Larry seems happy and in a healthy relationship and fulfilled and enjoying life.
That’s where he falls in love with Loretta Black during a bat mitzvah and imagines a happy future with her.
It’s so startling: It is the most human we ever see Larry over the run of the show, and I believe that was the season finale for the 2007 season. It was much more in line with what we’ve been seeing from a lot of younger comedians at that point, which was religion as an anchor in a good way — not to pull you down but to keep you grounded.
So for Generation X, as you write, Judaism serves “real, emotional, or psychological purpose for the practitioners.”
I wouldn’t actually call it respect but religion is an idea that’s not just something to be mocked and relegated to the dustbin. I’m not saying that Generation X is necessarily more religious, but they see real power and value in tradition and in certain kinds of family experiences. So, a huge amount of the humor can still come at the expense of your Jewish mother or your Jewish grandmother, but the family can also be the thing that is keeping you grounded, and frequently through some sort of religious ritual.
Who exemplifies that?
My favorite example is the 2009 Jonathan Tropper novel, “This Is Where I Leave You.” I’m so disappointed that the film adaptation of that sucked a lot of the Jewish identity out of the story, so let’s stick with the novel. In that book, where a family gathers for their father’s shiva, the characters are horrible people in a dysfunctional family writ large. They lie to each other. They backstab each other. But in scene where the protagonist Judd describes standing up on the bimah [in synagogue] to say Kaddish [the Mourner’s Prayer] after the death of his father, and the way he talks about this emotional catharsis that comes from saying the words and hearing the congregation say the words — it’s a startling moment of clarity in a book where these characters are otherwise just truly reprehensible.
Adam Sandler was born in 1966, the first year of Generation X, and his “Chanukah Song” seems like such a touchstone for his generation and the ones that follow. It’s not about religious Judaism, but in listing Jewish celebrities, it’s a statement of ethnic pride that Roth or Woody Allen couldn’t imagine.
It’s the reclamation of Jewish identity as something great and cool and fun and hip and wonderful and absolutely not to be ashamed of.
From left, Ilana Glazer, Abbi Jacobson and Seth Green in an episode of “Broad City” parodying Birthright Israel. (Screenshot from Comedy Central)
Which brings us to “Broad City,” which aired between 2014 and 2019. It’s about two 20-something Jewish women in New York who, in the case of Ilana Glazer’s character, anyway, are almost giddy about being Jewish and embrace it just as they embrace their sexuality: as just liberating. Ilana even upends the Jewish mother cliche by loving her mother to death.
That’s the episode with Ilana at her grandmother’s shiva, which also has the B plot where Ilana and her mother are shopping for underground illegal handbags. They spend most of the episode snarking at each other and fighting with each other and her mother’s a nag and Ilana is a bumbling idiot. But at the moment that the cops show up, and try to nab them for having all of these illegal knockoff handbags, the two of them are a team. They are an absolute unit of destructive force against these hapless police officers.
I think all of your examples of younger comics are women, who have always had fraught relationships with Jewish humor, both as practitioners and as the target of jokes. You write about “The JAP Battle” rap from “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend,” which both leans into the stereotype of the Jewish-American Princess — spoiled, acquisitive, “hard as nails” — and tries to reclaim it without the misogyny.
Rachel Bloom’s character Rebecca in “Girlfriend” self-identifies as a JAP, but she doesn’t actually fit the category. It’s her mother, Naomi, who truly is the Philip Roth, “Marjorie Morningstar,” Herman Wouk model of a JAP. So Bloom is kind of using the term, but you can’t repurpose the term when the original is still there.
So as an alternative, I offer up a new term: the Modern Ashkenazi American Woman. It’s very New York, it’s very East Coast, it’s very particular to a type of upbringing and community that in the 1950s and ’60s would have been almost exclusively Conservative Jews, and then may have become a bit more Reform as we’ve gotten into the ’90s and 2000s. They went to the JCC. They probably went to Jewish summer camp.
But even that doesn’t even really speak to the American sense of what Jewish is anymore, because American Jews have become increasingly racially and culturally diverse.
There is also something that’s happening historically with Generation X, and that’s the distance from the two major Jewish events of the 20th century, which is the Holocaust and the creation of Israel.
The Silent Generation and baby boomers still had a lingering sense of existential dread — the sense that we’re not so far removed from an attempted total annihilation of Jews. Gen X and millennials are so far removed from the Holocaust that they don’t feel that same fear.
But the real battleground we’re seeing in contemporary American Judaism is about the relationship to Israel. For baby boomers and even for some older members of Gen X, there’s still a sense that you can criticize Israel, but at the end of the day, it’s your duty to ultimately support Israel’s right to exist. And I think millennials and Zoomers [Gen Z] are much more comfortable with the idea of Israel being illegitimate.
Have you seen that in comedy?
I certainly think you can see the leading edge of that in some millennial stuff. The “Jews on a Plane” episode of “Broad City” is an absolute excoriation of Birthright Israel, and does not seem particularly interested in softening its punches about the whole idea of Jews going to Israel. I think we can see a trend in that direction, where younger American Jewish comedians do not see that as punching down.
You’re teaching a class on Jewish humor. What do your undergraduates find funny? Now that Woody Allen is better known for having married his adoptive daughter and for the molestation allegations brought by another adoptive daughter, do they look at his classic films and ask, “Why are you teaching us this guy?”
For the first time I’m not including Woody Allen. I had shown “Crimes and Misdemeanors” for years because I think it’s his most theological film. I think it’s a great film. And then a couple years ago, I backed off, because some students were responding that it was hard to look at him with all the baggage. He’s still coming up in conversation because you can’t really talk about the people who came after him without talking about him, but for the first time I’m not having them actually watch or read any of his stuff.
They have found things funny that I didn’t expect them to, and they have not found things funny that I would have thought they would. They laughed their way through “Yidl mitn fidl,” the 1936 Yiddish musical starring Molly Picon. I also thought they’d enjoy the Marx Brothers’ “Duck Soup” and they did not laugh once. Some of that is the fact that Groucho’s delivery is just so fast.
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The post How Jewish comedy found religion, from Philip Roth to ‘Broad City’ appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Antisemitic Incidents in Brazil Shot Up 149% Since 2022, New Figures Show
Demonstrators wear keffiyehs during an anti-Israel protest during the second anniversary of the Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel by Hamas from Gaza, in front of the Folha de Sao Paulo newspaper offices, in Sao Paulo, Brazil, Oct. 7, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Amanda Perobelli
Brazil has experienced a major surge in antisemitism following the Palestinian terrorist group Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel, according to newly unveiled research.
The Israelite Confederation of Brazil (CONIB), the country’s main Jewish umbrella organization, on Monday released its annual report on antisemitism for 2025.
StandWithUs Brazil, the Holocaust Memorial of São Paulo, ECOA, and the Holocaust Museum of Curitiba all contributed to the report, which CONIB described as “the most comprehensive ever produced in the country.”
Analysts found 989 antisemitic incidents were registered in the country in 2025, representing a 149 percent explosion from the 397 documented acts of bigotry against Jews in 2022.
Brazil is currently home to an estimated 120,000 Jews, the second largest population in Latin America behind Argentina.
CONIB President Claudio Lottenberg introduced the report by sharing wisdom from his mother-in-law Esther Sztamfater, a Holocaust survivor.
“Esther survived the war as a refugee in the Polish forests for three years. Three years in hiding. Cold, hungry, afraid — and with a lucidity about human nature that I have never seen in any other human being,” Lottenberg said. “Over 25 years, we had hundreds of conversations. Sometimes long. Sometimes just a sentence. But always with the same underlying lesson: The horror doesn’t begin in the gas chambers. It begins before. It begins with the tolerated word, the repeated lie, the stigma that no one questions. And that’s why this report matters.”
Warning that the numbers in the report represent “a snapshot of an environment that’s forming,” Lottenberg described the developing picture as “one that Esther would recognize.” He said that “antisemitism, as Esther taught me, doesn’t announce its arrival. It settles in gradually. In the tolerance of lies. In the indulgence towards aggression. In the silent acceptance of intimidation. And when a minority needs to get used to fear to preserve its community life, the problem is no longer the minority’s. It is democracy’s. It is Brazil’s.”
CONIB’s Secretary Rony Vainzof added that “antisemitism in Brazil has not receded; it has become normalized. Unfortunately, this is the new normal.”
CONIB’s legal director Andrea Vainer emphasized that antisemitism in Brazil “constitutes a crime of racism. And the law that protects us in this regard is Law 7716 of 1989.” He added that Brazil “has a whole constitutional framework to punish racism in general.”
Under Law 7716, those convicted of racial discrimination in hiring can face prison sentences of as much as five years. Individuals who incite racism or other forms of ethnic and religious bigotry face a maximum of three years. However, Brazilians who choose to use mass media in promoting their hateful feelings could spend five years in jail and face a fine.
The report showed that antisemitic incidents peaked last year in June with 138 cases reported. The Brazilian states of São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro, and Rio Grande do Sul accounted for 40 percent of all outrages.
In looking at social media-related complaints, researchers found Instagram came in worst with 37.13 percent of online reports. In a survey of Jews conducted for the report, 81.5 percent of respondents named online hate speech as the threat that most worried them for the future.
The survey also showed that 46 percent of Jews had experienced antisemitism in their professional lives and 39.84 percent had concealed or considered concealing their Jewish identity for fear of moral or physical aggression.
Twenty-five percent of Jews surveyed said they experienced antisemitism in the workplace. A minority of Jews said they reported antisemitic incidents they witnessed, with only 32.58 percent saying they informed a Jewish organization or safety group.
The report also found gaps in Holocaust education in Brazil, with a general survey finding only 53 percent able to correctly define the Holocaust and 87.3 percent saying they have never participated in any Holocaust educational activities, including those in school.
Rising antisemitism came amid growing tensions between Israel and Brazil.
In August, Israel announced it was downgrading diplomatic relations with Brazil after Brasília rejected its proposed ambassador.
“[Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva] has now revealed himself as an outspoken antisemite and Hamas supporter by pulling Brazil out of the IHRA, the international body established to fight antisemitism and hatred toward Israel, aligning the country with regimes such as Iran, which openly denies the Holocaust and threatens the existence of the Jewish state,” Israeli Defense Minister Israel posted on social media at the time.
Months earlier, Lula accused the Jewish state of committing genocide and intentionally targeted women and children during its military campaign against Hamas in Gaza.
CONIB denounced Lula for his claims, accusing him of promoting an “antisemitic libel.”
Lula previously compared Israel to Nazi Germany and the war in Gaza to the Holocaust — a comparison described as an example of anti-Jewish hate under the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s (IHRA) working definition of antisemitism.
In May 2024, Lula recalled Brazil’s ambassador from Israel.
In a panel discussion on Monday following the opening remarks presenting the report on antisemitism, CONIB’s Volunteer Director Paula Puppi discouraged people from feeling like they needed to argue on social media, stating that the platforms failed to foster healthy discussions.
“It’s a shallow, polarized environment where there’s no room for debate. And it’s not possible to be profound in a shallow environment,” Puppi said. “And that’s a mistake we make when we try to debate in that environment.”
Puppi urged attendees that “we need to learn how to deal with this environment. And that’s why this monitoring work that CONIB has been doing is so important.”
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Argentina Designates IRGC as Terror Group, Deepening Alignment with US, Israel Amid Iran War
Argentine President Javier Milei speaks at the 12th annual Algemeiner J100 Gala on March 9, 2026, in New York City.
Argentina has officially designated Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) as a terrorist organization, the latest signal of Buenos Aires’ tightening alignment with the US and Israel as tensions across the Middle East continue to rise.
President Javier Milei’s decision, announced on Tuesday, will expand the country’s previous counterterrorism framework to allow sweeping financial sanctions and additional restrictions against Iran’s ruling regime.
The move builds on Argentina’s designation in January to proscribe specifically the IRGC’s Quds Force, the elite unit responsible for directing Tehran’s proxy militias and overseas terrorist operations.
In a statement from his office, Milei announced the latest designation and, citing findings by Argentina’s federal courts, accused some IRGC members of involvement in planning and executing the two deadliest terrorist attacks in the nation’s history.
Argentina has long believed the Iran-backed Lebanese terrorist group Hezbollah was responsible for both the 1992 Israeli Embassy bombing in Buenos Aires that killed 22 people and wounded more than 200, and the 1994 bombing of the Argentine Israelite Mutual Association (AMIA) Jewish community center that left 85 dead and over 300 injured.
“This government is determined to ensure that the Argentine Republic once again aligns itself with Western civilization, while firmly condemning and confronting those who seek to destroy it,” the statement read.
In 2019, marking the 25th anniversary of the AMIA atrocity, Argentina formally designated Hezbollah as a terrorist organization, intensifying its decades-long campaign to bring justice to the victims.
Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Saar on Tuesday praised Milei’s decision as a bold moral stand against Iran’s global terrorist network and a powerful signal of deepening strategic alignment between Jerusalem and Buenos Aires.
“This decision … places Argentina … at the forefront of the free world in the fight against the Iranian regime of terror and its proxies,” the top Israeli diplomat wrote in a post on X.
“With this decision, President Milei — one of the greatest leaders of our generation — has once again demonstrated moral clarity and an unwavering commitment to the values of freedom and the fight against its enemies,” he continued.
I thank the President of Argentina @JMilei for his decision, on the eve of Passover, the Festival of Freedom, to designate Iran’s Revolutionary Guards as a terrorist organization.
This decision follows his designation of Hezbollah and Hamas as terrorist organizations, and places… https://t.co/Y26ZXcimPI
— Gideon Sa’ar | גדעון סער (@gidonsaar) April 1, 2026
Iran lambasted Argentina’s decision, calling it a strategic mistake and violation of international law that will damage bilateral relations. The Iranian media outlet WANA (West Asia News Agency) reported that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs claimed that, through their blacklisting the IRGC, Argentine leaders have “positioned themselves as partners in committed crimes and stand on the wrong side of history, triggering international responsibility for the Argentine government.”
As the ongoing US–Israeli military campaign against Iran continued to dismantle senior leadership within the regime’s security apparatus, newly appointed IRGC chief Ahmad Vahidi took over the force earlier this month after his predecessor, Mohammad Pakpour, was killed in the strikes.
Vahidi faces charges from Argentine authorities over his alleged involvement in the 1994 AMIA bombing.
At that time, Vahidi commanded the Quds Force.
Since taking office over a year ago, Milei has been one of Israel’s most vocal supporters, strengthening bilateral relations to unprecedented levels and in the process breaking with decades of Argentine foreign policy tradition to firmly align with Jerusalem and Washington.
With the outbreak of the war against Iran in late February, Milei has repeatedly voiced strong support for the US-Israeli campaign and offered steadfast political backing even as the Islamist regime continues issuing threats against the country.
Less than a year after the Hamas-led invasion of and massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, Argentina became the first Latin American country to designate the Palestinian Islamist group as a terrorist organization.
Last year, Milei formally launched the Isaac Accords with the aim of strengthening political, economic, and cultural cooperation between the Jewish state and Latin American governments.
The Argentine leader also announced plans to relocate the country’s embassy to Jerusalem next spring, fulfilling a promise made last year, as the two allies continue to strengthen their bilateral ties.
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The stories of Passover and Pittsburgh share a common humanity
At the heart of the Passover story is an act of courage that feels both ancient and urgent.
Before the plagues, before the parting of the Red Sea, a man named Moses made a brave choice. Saved and raised by the Pharaoh’s daughter, he could have looked away from the suffering of others. But instead, Moses recognized his connection to and the humanity of the Israelites, insisting that Pharaoh let his people go.
We often tell the Passover story as one of liberation, and it is. But it is also a story about the risk of crossing divides in society and the tension between extending an open hand or isolating yourself.
That tension is not confined to ancient Egypt: it persists within the Jewish community today. In the wake of the 2018 Pittsburgh synagogue shooting, much of the conversation understandably focused on security, accountability and the urgent need to confront antisemitism directly. The intensity and urgency of that conversation has only increased as Jewish Americans face more hate than ever in our post-Oct. 7 reality. Security and accountability are essential. But on its own, hardening our institutions is not enough. We must also engage in the hard work of educating and building connections across lines of difference.
Hate festers in the absence of relationships across those boundaries, and confronting it requires human connection. When we build compassionate, healthy communities, we begin to heal the persistent societal wounds, such as antisemitism and hatred, that divide us.
In the days and weeks following the attack in Pittsburgh, something remarkable happened: communities that could have remained distant instead drew closer. Muslim neighbors raised money to help cover the cost of funerals and Christian congregations opened their doors, providing the Tree of Life Congregation a safe place for worship services and to gather in community. In those dark days, Pittsburghers, and people from near and far, prayed, cried and raised their voices in song together. They modeled a response to hate rooted in shared humanity.
Passover asks something similar of us. Each year at the Seder table, we are instructed not simply to retell the story but to see ourselves within it, to remember what it felt like to be strangers in a strange land. The Passover Haggadah commands us to welcome the stranger as we were once strangers in the land of Egypt.
The story is a call to action, asking us to recognize the common roots that unite us all. If we are to truly embrace the stranger, then our work must extend beyond our own community and bring people of different backgrounds together to cultivate mutual understanding and learn more about our neighbors. That mandate guides our work at The Tree of Life. We are building a new institution rooted in Pittsburgh with national impact, dedicated to inspiring courageous action and creating compassionate communities. We are bringing people together to engage with one another and to stay connected even when it is hard.
Our programs focus on inquiry, connection, and community engagement, remembering our past and celebrating Jewish tradition and joy. For example, the Holocaust Center of Pittsburgh, one of our core programs, worked closely with Lily Sassani, a local Girl Scout, to develop a Holocaust Education patch, which is now available to all Girl Scouts. The LIGHT Education Initiative, our cornerstone education program, hosts the Eradicate Hate Student Summit, which in 2025 brought together 450 attendees and, with the support of the Grable Foundation and Benedum Foundation, offered $1,000 grants to 34 schools in southwestern Pennsylvania to design and deliver programming on their campuses.
We’re also sharing the story of what happened on Oct. 27, 2018, the history of antisemitism in America and our work to uproot hate in a traveling exhibition visiting communities across the country, beginning in Pittsburgh and next headed to Broward County, Florida, home to Parkland, another community sadly shaped by tragedy. The exhibition offers a peek into what we will be doing in Pittsburgh at the site of the deadliest antisemitic attack in United States history.
Empathy and understanding are powerful antidotes to hate. Developing both is slow, but important. Beloved Squirrel Hill resident Mr. Rogers knew this and exemplified it. He famously responded to racist ideas of his time, not through loud condemnation but by modeling a different way forward. Amid contentious debates over segregated pools, he invited a Black character, Officer Clemmons, to join him in cooling his feet in a small wading pool and sharing a towel. He didn’t argue; he demonstrated.
We are not naive, nor do we think there is a single answer to the challenges and divisions we all face. What we do know, however, is that at the same time that antisemitism has increased exponentially in recent years, divides are deepening and isolation is rising. Pew Research suggests that approximately eight in ten Americans say they cannot even trust people of different political opinions to agree on basic facts.
When antisemitism is rising and trust is waning, the instinct is often to pull back; to ignore the forces of good at work and hide behind walls. Imagine if Moses had remained in Midian, continuing his exile. Ours would be a very different story.
Instead, Moses stepped out in faith and sought community. For the truth is, liberation is not only about moving past a place of discomfort, grief and hardship. It is about what we choose to build afterward and who we bring along the way. Only by recognizing our common humanity and building bridges across lines of difference can we bring about the better future that the youngest people seated at our Seder tables deserve.
The post The stories of Passover and Pittsburgh share a common humanity appeared first on The Forward.