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How Rachel Goldberg-Polin and Jon Polin find grace in their shattered world

Rachel Goldberg-Polin and Jon Polin need no introduction. Since their son, Hersh, was kidnapped from the Nova music festival in southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, taken hostage in Gaza and, later, murdered by his captors, the American-Israeli couple have become, for many, the personification of an entire nation’s pain.

They didn’t want this. They surely didn’t ask for it. “We’re the manifestation of everybody’s worst nightmare,” Rachel said. And yet, it is precisely that fact, coupled with the almost supernatural grace they have brought to their international advocacy for Israel’s hostages, that helped make Hersh one of the most recognizable faces among the captives and why his death last year hit so hard.

It’s also why Jews have looked to them as exemplars of how to respond to one of the worst periods in Jewish history. Despite all they’ve gone through, and all they continue to endure, Hersh’s parents still see this as a moment of opportunity for cross-cultural connection.

“You’ve got your narrative, we’ve got our narrative,” Jon said. “You’ve suffered, we’ve suffered. You’ve got your Bible that says something. We’ve got our Bible that says something. You’ve got your claims. We’ve got our claims. And you know what? We’re never going to outshout each other. Let’s look forward and start right now and dedicate ourselves to something better for all of us. I still feel that way.”

The couple is speaking next week at the Z3 Conference in Palo Alto, California, near where they lived in Berkeley before moving to Israel in 2008. This interview, conducted by J. Jewish News of Northern California, has been edited for length and clarity.

A lot of people here in the United States, and also in Israel, felt as if they knew Hersh after Oct. 7. Some did, but most of us didn’t. I wonder if you could tell us about him as a person, and what it was like to be his parents.

Rachel Goldberg-Polin: Hersh, obviously, was a curious citizen of the world. “Obviously,” just because that’s really what I’ve come to realize is the most apt way of describing him. He was always hungry for knowledge, but very much outside of the confines of normative learning. So school was not really interesting to him. He did enough to get by, but was always an underachiever in school. And yet he was this voracious reader about whatever subject was floating his boat. As a young kid, he was obsessed with geography, obsessed with American presidents, obsessed with Native American history, obsessed with the Civil War.

And as he became a young man — I still think of him as a boy. He was a very young 23. He had just turned 23 on Oct. 3, three days before we said goodbye to him and he went down to the Nova festival. He was obsessed with his favorite soccer club, his Jerusalem Hapoel soccer club. He loved trance music and music festivals, and used them as an opportunity to get to know and meet different people from all over the world. He was very committed to traveling by himself when he went to those festivals, because he said when you travel in a clump, then you stay in a clump. And he wanted to meet people from everywhere.

He was also a real professional listener, which I’ve grown to understand is such a rare gift that is hard to learn. I’m trying to learn it in his memory and as part of his legacy. To train myself to really be with whoever’s speaking and not be thinking, what am I going to say next? What do I want to share? What do I want to say? What do I want to ask? And he was not afraid of having those pauses in between when someone was speaking. He would digest it, and then he would react.

We’ve had so many people come to us in these past two years to tell us about little moments that they had with him that were special, because they really felt heard. And in this time of such challenge in civil discourse everywhere around the world, when the new way of speaking is screaming, it is, I realize now, a unique blessing.

Jon, I saw you recently wearing a T-shirt that had an image of Hersh, and under it the Hebrew phrase “yehi zichrecha mahapeicha” — may your memory be a revolution. What kind of revolution did you have in mind?

Jon: It’s not the revolution of taking to the streets with fires burning. It’s a revolution for good. Hersh really, really — in some ways, naively — wasn’t jaded, and really it’s a revolution for bringing more good to the world. I was walking down the street this summer with my daughter, and a man who we didn’t know stopped me and said, “Hey, Hersh’s dad” — that’s how he referred to me — “can I show you something?” And he shows me that the screensaver on his phone is a picture of Hersh. And he said to me, “Every morning the first thing I do is turn on my phone and look at this picture and say to myself: What can I do today to be better? What can I do today to make the world better?” And right then I said, that’s the greatest legacy a person can have.

Rachel: Hersh still believed in goodness and possibility. But he also was a realist. When he was in high school in 2014, a young Israeli Ethiopian man named Avera Mengistu wandered into Gaza and Hamas took him hostage. Hersh was 15 years old and he came home and he was beside himself. He couldn’t believe that people were not on the streets advocating for Avera Mengistu. There were four or five people who would stand up on this square at the top of Ben Yehuda Street in Jerusalem a couple times a week, and they reminded me of the people on the UC Berkeley campus lawn who say “No nukes” — like, six people with gray hair and long braids. And then there was a short, dark boy with big, black-framed glasses standing with them. And it was 15-year-old Hersh. [Mengistu was released by Hamas in February.]

The resonance of him being out there as a kid, protesting in the street to bring someone home from Gaza, is quite extraordinary.

Rachel: We said before he was a hostage, he was a hostage advocate.

You’ve become the personification of an entire nation’s trauma. Obviously, you never wanted to be symbols like this, but you are now. Can you talk about what it’s like to have people look to you in this way?

Jon: We talk about this a fair amount, and sometimes wonder, can we just go and escape in privacy somewhere? And the answer is, maybe — but not in Israel. Part of us just wants to do that. But another part of us is saying, this has been thrust upon us, this horrific, terrible personal tragedy that’s part of a national tragedy that’s part of a global tragedy. And somehow, largely due to Rachel’s eloquence, there are people who are strangely looking to us. And we’re saying we might need to embrace this. Because part of the story is also the lack of clarity, leadership, morality, voices of sanity in the world today. And if somehow, in some small way, we can be a little bit those voices, it’s so important that we need to do it.

Rachel: We all experience loss. It makes us human. It’s a commonality that we all have. What’s different about our experience is that it was so completely public, and that is really scorching. And it is definitely hard, you know? When we go out, we are kind of the trigger for people — we’re the manifestation of everybody’s worst nightmare. That is a sad thing to be. A lot of people see us and they can’t help but cry. And I know that they are coming at it from a place of empathy and love. They’re feeling our pain. But it’s difficult to have that when you’re walking down the street just trying to go wherever your destination is, and to have people crying along the way, whenever they see you.

Jon: To the extent that we, in some way, are offering strength to anybody out there, it’s symbiotic. I’m not asking that people start coming up even more on the streets to say things and hug us, bring things to our apartment. But that stuff that we’ve been experiencing for 751 days has been remarkably strengthening. We buried Hersh 419 days ago, and we continue to be strengthened by the people who come anonymously and leave baked goods by our door every Friday. We take so much strength from so many people around the world who think they’re taking strength from us.

Rachel: Everybody is holding everybody, and I feel like that is where we as the Jewish people are, and have to be, now. And I don’t care if your hair looks that way, and you cover your knees down to here, and you pray with this book, and you don’t pray at all. It doesn’t matter.

It seems that many believe what you’ve endured must afford you special insight into what’s going on in the Middle East. That you’re singularly able to see through the confusion, right into the heart of what’s happening. I’m wondering if the terrible price you’ve paid has given you any particular understanding that’s different from what you understood before Oct. 7.

Jon: We have definitely been, against our wishes, thrust into the underworld of geopolitics and how it works. We watch the news like everybody else, and we read newspapers like everybody else, and we now understand that there’s the story that we all look at and hear and are told, and [then there are] the things we see out there every day of how the world [really] works. And I wish we could unsee it but, unfortunately, we’ve now learned that the world works on concepts like interests and equities. Every leader has them. And sometimes those interests and equities align with the will of the masses. And sometimes there are other things at play. I don’t know what to do with this information, other than it’s a hard burden to carry to know this reality.

With all that being said, I go back to something that I thought on Oct. 6, 2023, and I still think it today. There’s a better way. There’s a better path. And despite the pain, despite the suffering, despite all the agony that so many have felt, we can’t lose sight of that better path. I always say, let’s pick a day and say, “We’re moving on. We’re only looking forward. You’ve got your narrative. We’ve got our narrative. You’ve suffered, we’ve suffered. You got your Bible that says something. We’ve got our Bible that says something. You get your claims. We’ve got our claims. And you know what? We’re never going to outshout each other. Let’s look forward and start right now and dedicate ourselves to something better for all of us.”

You made aliyah in 2008. Can you tell me what it means for you to live in Israel? And I’m also curious if that meaning has changed over the course of the years you’ve lived there and specifically after Oct. 7.

Rachel: What really brought us here was very simple. Jon had said for years, we have an opportunity to be part of this giant Jewish experiment of living as a Jewish people in a Jewish homeland. We happen to be observant Jews who pray every day and we thought, how is it that every day we’re asking God to please allow us to return to Jerusalem? And Jon said, “We can go.” When you’re actually able to get on a plane and 12 hours later to be in this place, it started to feel inauthentic to be praying for that when we had the ability to do it.

So we came and we really did feel, and do feel, that we are privileged to live here. I certainly have had challenges all these years, because my Hebrew is not great, and I’ve felt like a fish out of water, and I’ve felt like a stranger in a strange land. And yet it’s my land. I feel privileged that I have lived here. I feel privileged that I raised children here. I feel privileged that my three children were and are bilingual, and that they had an opportunity and have the opportunity to still be part of this experiment.

We’ve had an enormous challenge thrust upon us. When I say us, I mean all of the nation of Israel and the people of Israel worldwide. But at the same time, with this great calamity comes extreme opportunity — extreme, extreme opportunity. And I pray that we will have the resilience, the recovery, the healing and the comfort that is needed to take this chance and make something really luminous.

Jon: You asked what we’ve learned or how things have changed. Something that’s become really clear to us, maybe to everybody in the world, is there is an intertwined sense between Israel and the Jewish people globally. We’re all connected, like it or not, and I would like to see us use this as an opportunity. How do we take this little country in the Middle East, this concept of an independent Jewish state with sovereignty and agency, and say, no matter who the government is, who the prime minister is, who’s in charge, this is a concept that’s bigger than us or any entity. How do we make this a source of pride and inspiration for all of us?

This is going to be your first time in the Bay Area since Oct. 7. What are you anticipating on coming here?

Rachel: Unfortunately, we won’t be there very long. But I know that it will be an embrace from the wonderful Bay Area Jewish community. We have felt the love and support and appreciate it. It sounds crazy to say that we feel it, but it’s like a visceral, tangible, tactile feeling of support and love. And we felt your confusion and we felt your pain and we felt your concern, and it helped us, and it touched us, and we will always feel a huge debt of gratitude to the Bay Area, because that’s where Hersh was born, and that’s where our older daughter, who’s younger than Hersh, that’s where she was born. They were both born at Alta Bates Hospital in Oakland. Jon and I had just gotten married, and we spent almost three years before Hersh was born in the Bay Area. It’s very much woven into the core of who we are. And I think in many ways, it was a foundation that made us strong as a unit in order to face this unbelievable mission that we are in now.

Jon: I just specifically want to bring it to Hersh for a minute and say, it’s amazing that we lived in the Bay Area for seven years. It left such an indelible, lasting mark on our identities. Hersh left the Bay Area when he was 3½ years old. He was blessed to grow up at Gan Shalom in Berkeley and to be part of Congregation Beth Israel in Berkeley and the Berkeley JCC. He lived 20 more years outside of Berkeley, yet Berkeley, California, and the Bay Area more broadly were such a prominent part of his personality, his thinking, who he was as a person. You could take the 3½-year-old out of Berkeley, but you can’t take the Bay Area out of the boy. It was the embodiment of so much about who Hersh was.

Rachel: I think it’s a lot of why he never liked to wear shoes.

I’m curious about the power of prayer. You talked about living in California and praying about returning to Jerusalem. Can you talk about your own approach to prayer now, and if that’s changed in any way — but also what it’s like to know that there are thousands of people you don’t even know praying for you every day?

Rachel: It absolutely works and is felt and is appreciated. And I am bottomlessly, endlessly grateful to the people who still have us in their prayers. Because I’m telling you, unfortunately, we need it. I think we might always need it.

I’m so thankful that I have prayer as a tool that I use daily. Every day, I open my eyes and immediately say the line that many Jewish people say upon waking, thanking God for giving me back my soul, and [saying] that God has tremendous faith in me, and that’s why I woke up this morning.

When I go to do my morning prayers, it’s such a relief. It’s the best therapy. You know, Rabbi Nachman, the famous mystical Kabbalist, said, “Life makes warriors out of all of us, and the most potent weapon is prayer.” And so I say to people, use it. Everyone has their pain, and we have this toolkit accessible to us. I pour my soul out in the morning, and then I can start my day. The question was, how has it changed since Oct. 7. I think I use it more. I lean on it more. I think that it’s more transformative. All of us have a different idea of God. What is God? Nobody knows what God is. It’s very confusing. But I have this idea of God, and I’ve been in a relationship with this idea of God. I’m so thankful, because when Oct. 7 happened, I wasn’t approaching a stranger. I’m thankful that I still have that and I’m grateful that people are shooting energy our way. I think it changes the sender and it changes the recipient.

This interview first appeared in J. Jewish News of Northern California. It is republished here with permission.


The post How Rachel Goldberg-Polin and Jon Polin find grace in their shattered world appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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Passover’s 4 cups of meaning

What if the answer to the ‘Meaning Crisis’ is sitting right in front of us, around our Passover tables?

The Meaning Crisis is a term coined by philosopher John Vervaeke to discuss the constellation of mental health, political and cultural crises that, in his words, derive from people “feeling very disconnected from themselves, from each other, from the world, and from a viable and foreseeable future.” It is, Vervaeke argues, at the root of such seemingly disparate phenomena as the opioid crisis, the rise of right-wing nationalism, and off-the-charts reports of despair and anxiety, particularly among young people.

There are at least two meanings of ‘Meaning’ in this context.

First, over the last few hundred years — but especially in the last few decades — there has been a rapid erosion of the structures and communities that gave human lives meaning for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Traditional religious values and structures are far less coherent, attractive or attainable. Familial and communal structures have rapidly shifted. Fewer and fewer of us live in the places where we grew up, surrounded by extended family. The civic bonds many of us once took for granted are frayed as we fundamentally disagree about what American democracy even means. And in the last few decades, the atomizing effects of technology have made us more isolated from one another, with less in-person human contact and even less physical intimacy.

This is also a literal crisis of meaning: who we are, how we understand our world, the concepts by which we organize our lives — all of these are rapidly changing, and with the potential of AI to reshape our economic order and wipe out half of white-collar jobs, it’s possible we ain’t seen nothing yet.

Some of these changes are for the best. To take one personal example, the word ‘marriage’ connoted a very specific form of social arrangement for hundreds of years: a man, a woman, a lifelong union blessed by a religious authority, and the raising of children. The parameters of marriage were never as stable as traditionalists like to claim — just look at our biblical ancestors polygamous marriages, or the deeply unequal access and expectations around extramarital sex stretching through the Mad Men 1950s. But with the progress in women’s rights (e.g. not being considered the property of their husbands, being able to have careers) and LGBTQ equality, obviously the nature and rates of marriage have changed significantly. As someone in a same-sex marriage, I’m very grateful for that.

But it is still a change, and, together with other transformations, it has challenged some traditional notions of masculinity, leading to a resurgence of misogynistic, hyper-conservative models in the so-called ‘manosphere.’  And that’s but one example of many.

In this context — the meaning crisis and the reactionary responses to it — I find the observance of Passover, and the Passover Seder in particular, to be a much-needed antidote to disorientation on one hand, and oppressive traditionalism on the other.

Fittingly, for a holiday obsessed with the number four, I want to explore this in four ways  — if you like, the Four Cups of Meaning that can be part of the Passover Seder.

1) Community

For many people, gathering with families of origin can be extremely stressful in our politically polarized time. It was bad enough when it was just the proverbial ‘racist uncle’ we had to endure at Seders. He might’ve been annoying, but he could also be ignored. Now, however, even well-meaning, sincere and committed Jews passionately disagree over a number of subjects,  especially a certain country (or two) in the Middle East.

Yet there is a profound value gathering as a family — even as a tribe — and feeling a sense of kinship and belonging to it. Despite real and painful differences, Jews congregating together are connecting to a heritage and an ancestry that cannot be taken away by those who seek to put us outside the tent. That is something very old and very rich. You are not an atomized, isolated individual, separate from a history and a people and a tradition — a tradition which specifically includes the value of disagreement, argumentation and wrestling with the divine.

2) Centering our core values

Within the Jewish family, there are radically different iterations of core values. For me, the meaning of the Exodus is that oppression, slavery and injustice are morally wrong in the highest possible sense. As Exodus 23:9 teaches, “Do not oppress the stranger, for you know the heart of a stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” From our experience of oppression — real, imagined or historically projected — we extrapolate the emotional and ethical value that it is wrong to oppress those who are different from us.

I know others have different views — for example, that the story of the Exodus is centrally about something that happened to our tribe, and that our group must never allow to happen to us again. But in terms of the meaning crisis, the debate is part of the solution. We are called at the Passover Seder to discuss the meanings of freedom, to reenact in our lived ritual experience the passage from servitude to liberation.

And not only that. We are invited to cultivate gratitude — in the Dayenu song and elsewhere — for all the blessings around us. We are invited, over and over again, to value questioning, curiosity, even challenging the texts of the Haggadah that for many are the very foundation of the Seder. These values are placed at the center of the Passover symposium. And while we disagree about how these questions are to be answered, just asking them is a retort to the emptiness and nihilism of so much of online culture and political cynicism. Values matter.

3) The power of myth

Human beings are creatures of story. Some linguists believe that it is in the telling of stories that human language itself — and thus human consciousness — evolved. Personally, I don’t regard the biblical narrative as a historical document; I see it as a shared myth of national self-creation, one which we can embody in ritual — in what the scholar of religion Clifford Geertz called “deep play.”

Sometimes the play is quite literal. Last year, my friend Shoshana Jedwab, a marvelous Jewish educator, led a bibliodrama performance in which, drawing from Sephardic traditions, we whipped one another with scallions to mock the servitude of Egyptian slavery. It’s fun (and worked really well with my eight-year-old) but it’s also a way of making myth into embodied, living experience. The myths, and their reenactment, bring us into intimacy with the past.

But ritual play may take many forms. Why do we dip our vegetables twice? Why the charoset? Why the orange on the seder plate? Why this? Why that? The inquisitiveness of the Four Questions is modeled by the youngest participant of the seder, but is invited on behalf of all of us. These often inscrutable, embodied, crunchy, weird rituals connect to the myth of the Passover story and make it alive in a way that mere retelling could never do.

As you prepare for your own seders, I invite you to create your own questions based on the themes embedded in the order of the Seder. And to lean into the weird. Which brings me to the final cup of meaning:

4) The non-rational

Passover, like many Jewish holidays, has multiple layers — seasonal, agricultural, mythic — and they all mash together in an often strange, and often charoset-like, mixture.

Particularly this year, the non-rational, emotional, and spiritual content of the Seder feels resonant for me. I cannot sequester the grief I feel at the crumbling of the American experiment in multicultural democracy, or at the ascendant far right in Israel. I feel perhaps a little closer to that pre-redeemed consciousness of my mythic ancestors in the land of Egypt. I am certainly not enslaved, but I do feel the sense of precarity that the Seder invites us to cultivate.

And so I find myself yearning for a miraculous deliverance — maybe not one involving frogs, lice, and boils, but from some unknown, mysterious, sacred source. Perhaps salvation will come from what we do not know. Perhaps there is room for a desperate hope, despite ample reasons not to hope.

As the Hasidic masters noted (and for a wonderful presentation of this, consider downloading the ‘Four Cups of Consciousness’ Haggadah supplement created by the Jewish psychedelic organization, Shefa), the Passover Seder is in large part about consciousness change: using the four cups of wine, the emotional arc of the seder, and the long night of singing, arguing and talking over a festive meal that stretches to midnight to shift our consciousness and open us to the possibility of internal freedom, even when external circumstances are antithetical to it.

This is the freedom of which Viktor Frankl wrote. And while we are a long way from what Frankl endured, I would submit that part of the invitation of the Seder is to imagine the consciousness of freedom even when that freedom is threatened — to be in solidarity with those being oppressed as we gather for our lavish meal, reclining on real or metaphorical cushions and drinking cups of wine, and to hold those two sides together. To know that, as the Haggadah relates, there have always been threats to our physical and spiritual safety. And while our physical freedom can indeed be restricted — and has been — we retain the capacity for ethical and spiritual freedom even in circumstances far worse than our own.

This is the ultimate meaningfulness: that in a time when the structures and language that give our lives meaning are threatened, we can resist the slide to nihilism and despair. And the Seder is a celebration of doing so.

The post Passover’s 4 cups of meaning appeared first on The Forward.

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Tensions flare at Passover Seder over Mamdani’s inclusion

(JTA) — New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani was briefly interrupted by a heckler during an appearance at a Passover Seder in Manhattan Monday night, marking a tense moment that highlighted ongoing strains between the mayor and segments of the Jewish community.

“The rising tide of antisemitism has caused enormous pain for so many Jewish New Yorkers. Doors are locked that used to be open, routine subway journeys felt fraught, synagogues that once felt like sanctuaries now require armed protection,” Mamdani said before he was interrupted by an individual in the back of the room who stood and shouted, “Every Jewish organization is a target.”

Attendees responded with a blend of shushes and a single voice shouting, “Stop the xenophobia, let him speak.”

“This is New York City, and we love to be here,” Mamdani said as the audience erupted in cheers. “I say it because we know that if there was complete decorum anywhere that we were, then we would have to ask ourselves if we had left the city that we love, and it is important to be here and to acknowledge that this is what it means to love and to lead the place that we call home.”

The episode, which took place at Jewish entrepreneur Michael Dorf’s annual seder at City Winery in the Meatpacking District, comes as Mamdani has faced scrutiny from segments of New York’s Jewish community over his responses to antisemitic incidents and continued alignment with pro-Palestinian activists.

“I have to say I didn’t vote for him,” one male attendee, who asked to remain anonymous for his privacy, said following the seder. “I have certain feelings about him that I think a lot of other people have, but that’s neither here nor there. But that was kind of surprising that a couple of people kind of went out of their way to heckle.”

While the mayor has previously marked Jewish holidays with Jewish leaders and organizations aligned with him on his criticisms of Israel, the event at City Winery involved a lineup of speakers and attendees with differing views.

“Mamdani was here, which is great, yeah, I guess, because he knows at the seder, you lean to the left,” joked comedian Olga Namer later in the evening. “A little bit about me, I’m a Syrian Jew, yes, so that’s good, because I know, at least I’m confident, that Mamdani likes half of me.”

Ahead of the evening, which also featured addresses by former CNN anchor Don Lemon, Israeli musician David Broza and Rabbi Amichai Lau-Lavie of the non-denominational Lab/Shul, observant Jewish comedian Modi Rosenfeld announced that he had cancelled his appearance, claiming that he had been unaware of the mayor’s inclusion.

“We were not told Mamdani was participating in this event until today,” Rosenfeld’s team said in a statement on Instagram following criticism from pro-Israel activist Shai Davidai. “Modi will no longer be participating.”

Davidai, the former Israeli business school professor at Columbia University, took aim at the Israeli participants in the seder, writing in a post on Instagram, “This is why we’re losing.”

“I have nothing against any of these individuals, but I do have a problem with giving Mamdani a kosher stamp of approval while so many of us are out in the streets fighting against is anti-Jewish and anti-Israeli policies, actions, and rhetoric,” Davidai wrote in an updated caption announcing Modi’s cancellation.

City Council Speaker Julie Menin, who has been seen as a counterweight on Mamdani, used part of her remarks to highlight the passage of her “buffer zone” legislation for religious institutions, which were introduced after a pro-Palestinian demonstration outside of Park East Synagogue in November.

“We all should be able to worship or not worship as we see fit,” Menin said. “We all should be able to go into, whether it’s a synagogue, a church, a mosque or any house of worship, freely without intimidation and harassment, so I’m very proud that we were able to pass this bill.”

Mamdani has not confirmed whether he will sign the legislation, with a spokesperson telling the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that he “wants to ensure both the right to prayer and the right to protest are protected here in New York City.”

Former Comptroller Brad Lander, who is currently running for Congress in New York’s 10th Congressional District, joked during his remarks late in the evening that he “did not tell the mayor that we were doing a live reenactment of the four sons during his speech,” making a tongue-in-cheek reference to a core element of the Passover haggadah.

“He gets heckled and, you know, and it kind of goes along with the territory, I thought he dealt with it very gracefully,” Lander told JTA. “As a lot of people said in here tonight, not everyone in that room agrees with each other.”

Indeed, at the conclusion of the seder, several attendees said that they were not aware that the mayor was slated to appear — and questioned his understanding of the holiday’s core narrative.

“If City Winery did not inform people of the politicians in particular, because he’s very polarizing, to have him up there really upset people,” said one attendee, who requested anonymity because she had participated as a private individual. “It feels inauthentic to have him speak about matzah or Judaism, when the whole holiday is about Jews that were enslaved by Pharaoh and then went back to the homeland of Israel.”

This article originally appeared on JTA.org.

The post Tensions flare at Passover Seder over Mamdani’s inclusion appeared first on The Forward.

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NY candidate criticizes Israel on Hasan Piker’s show, sparking backlash in heavily Jewish swing district

(JTA) — Democratic officials in four suburban New York counties are decrying a local congressional candidate who criticized Israel during an appearance this weekend with Hasan Piker, the leftist streamer who has divided Democrats and drawn allegations of antisemitism.

Effie Phillips-Staley is running for Congress in a heavily Jewish district just outside New York City and hoping to face off against a pro-Israel Republican in November. During her appearance on Piker’s show on Saturday, she accused Israel of genocide and being an apartheid state.

Phillips-Staley’s position on Israel has morphed since last July, when she told Jewish Insider that she wanted to be “very clear that the U.S. has to continue to be a critical ally to Israel” and that she wouldn’t support restrictions on aid to Israel.

But after she went on a trip to Israel and the West Bank in February, she became strongly critical of Israel and said she now supports cutting U.S. aid.

In a 30-minute interview that also covered immigration and her other campaign priorities, Piker asked Phillips-Staley about her West Bank trip, and about how her Israel stance is sitting with the district’s large Jewish community.

“The majority of people — or maybe not the majority, but certainly a strong number — who have brought this to my attention have been Jews,” she said. “I get the most encouragement, from lots of people, but a lot of encouragement from Jews who really challenged me, especially in the beginning, to be brave and say it like it is.”

Phillips-Staley, a village trustee in Tarrytown, has established herself as the left-wing candidate in the NY-17 primary and has made her anti-Israel stance a focus of her campaign. She said on Saturday that she believes using the words “apartheid” and “genocide” to describe Israel’s actions is “100%” a good litmus test for Democrats.

Meanwhile, Piker, a streamer with millions of followers on YouTube and the streaming platform Twitch, has become one of the most prominent leftist commentators in the United States. He’s drawn scrutiny for his sharp critiques of the Democratic party and Israel, as well as accusations of antisemitism.

Following the interview, the Democratic committees for Westchester, Rockland, Putnam and Dutchess counties issued a joint statement condemning Piker’s “hateful rhetoric” and expressing “deep disappointment” with Phillips-Staley for appearing alongside him.

“Her decision represents a dangerous and unacceptable step toward legitimizing rhetoric that has no place in this District, in mainstream Democratic politics, or in any serious political discourse,” the committees said.

Phillips-Staley responded with a statement of her own, saying, “While I don’t align with every word Hasan Piker has ever said, we must recognize the massive value of a platform that engages millions of young people in the democratic process.”

Phillips-Staley is banking on her Israel stances — which are increasingly in line with the outlook of Democratic voters, particularly younger ones — to buoy her candidacy in a packed primary where nearly half of voters remained undecided in the most recent poll.

Beth Davidson, a Rockland County legislator who is Jewish, led all Democratic primary candidates in the latest polls with 23% of the vote. Davidson was followed by Cait Conley, who was endorsed by a major pro-Israel lobbying group, with 17%; Peter Chatzky, who is Jewish and supports conditioning aid to Israel, at 8%; and Philliips-Staley at 5%.

New York’s 17th Congressional District is home to a number of heavily Jewish areas, including haredi Orthodox communities like Monsey and Kiryas Joel as well as towns in Westchester County with significant populations of non-Orthodox Jews. The Jewish Electorate Institute estimates that nearly 20% of the district’s voters are Jewish, making it one of the top 10 most Jewish congressional districts in the country.

Phillips-Staley acknowledged to Piker that her position on Israel is not uniformly popular among her constituents.

“There are some communities that certainly don’t like the positions that we take, that take issue with me calling out AIPAC, even Democrats,” she said. “It’s not great. But there are just as many or more who say, no this is wrong, keep going. Keep going.”

Phillips-Staley detailed her experience visiting the West Bank, which she has spoken about with other leftist outlets like Zeteo. She said it is “unbearable” that the U.S. is providing aid to Israel’s military to uphold what she called “apartheid” conditions similar to the American Jim Crow era.

The interview also covered Lawler, who currently holds the seat and is seen as vulnerable to losing against the Democratic nominee in November amid a difficult climate for Republicans. Lawler, a staunchly pro-Israel member of Congress, has been endorsed by AIPAC and the Republican Jewish Coalition.

Piker called Lawler a “villain,” and Phillips-Staley said in agreement, “Villain is the word.”

Piker asked Phillips-Staley about Conley, who he said was the “mainstream Democratic party candidate who’s leading in the polls,” though she was second in the latest polling data.

Piker pointed out that Conley is endorsed by the Democratic Majority for Israel, a pro-Israel lobbying group that often overlaps with AIPAC in its spending. Phillips-Staley dismissed Conley as being too far to the right.

“There’s very little light between Cait [Conley] and Mike Lawler in terms of a lot of their policies,” Phillips-Staley said. The two pro-Israel politicians are far apart on the war in Iran, however: Conley has been opposed while Lawler has been a steadfast supporter.

This article originally appeared on JTA.org.

The post NY candidate criticizes Israel on Hasan Piker’s show, sparking backlash in heavily Jewish swing district appeared first on The Forward.

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