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I was interrogated by Israeli authorities — I know why they’re terrified of peace activists like me
Two weeks ago, I was on my way home from Israel after leading young Jewish activists across the country to meet with Israelis and Palestinians fighting for peace and justice. But just as my plane at Ben Gurion Airport was beginning to board, I was called to the gate desk, where I was told that I would be further questioned by airport security.
I was interrogated and searched for the next hour; one security agent accused me of having suspect political motivations because my checked luggage contained materials sympathetic to Israeli pro-democracy protesters and Palestinians living under Israeli military occupation. They were trying to scare me. I felt, viscerally, how much Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government wants to deter American Jews from aiding Israelis and Palestinians working toward peace and shared security.
But it didn’t intimidate me. Instead, it left me feeling more convinced than ever that it’s crucial for Jews around the world to take direct action for equality and justice in Israel and the West Bank. Because for every American Jew who, like me, has to endure a little ordeal with airport security, there are millions of Palestinians and Israelis facing far worse repression. And it is our duty to stand with them.
As the director of young leadership and education at the New Israel Fund, an organization that has spent decades building movements that advance freedom, security and equality for all people under Israeli control, I had led a delegation of young people on a trip through Israel and the West Bank, where we met with Israeli peace activists who survived the Hamas attack of Oct. 7, 2023; Negev Bedouin communities demanding the government given them access to water and electricity; and humanitarian organizations fighting to bring desperately needed aid into Gaza.
In my luggage were materials that reflected my politics, among them a poster I had gotten at a protest in Tel Aviv that said, “Only peace will bring security,” and two books — the graphic novel Jerusalem: Chronicles from the Holy City and Daybreak in Gaza: Stories of Palestinian Lives and Culture — that I had purchased at The Educational Bookshop, a renowned Palestinian cultural center in East Jerusalem that Israeli authorities have raided multiple times since Oct. 7.
The first agent to examine me asked about those materials, as well as some T-shirts that referred to Israel’s far-right minister of national security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, with a profanity. “If you believe in peace and human rights for all people, then why are these messages so one-sided?” the security agent asked.
I said that I didn’t think they were. Israelis want peace: At well-attended protests led by the Hostage Families’ Forum throughout the war in Gaza, attendees demanded a deal to end the fighting in exchange for a return of the hostages. And most Israelis oppose Ben-Gvir, viewing his Jewish supremacist vision — which would see Israel annex the vast majority of the West Bank, and violent Jewish extremists given a pass — as a major threat to the future of their country.
Then, two agents led me into another room with an array of scanners and equipment. I started to sweat. Just before my trip, two Jewish American activists were deported after volunteering in the West Bank. They were slapped with a 10-year ban from entering Israel. Could that happen to me?
One agent asked me if I visited the West Bank, and who I’d met with. I thought of my friend Awdah Hathaleen, a Palestinian peace activist murdered by an internationally-sanctioned settler in July.
As soon as I had landed in Israel, I’d rented a car and drove to Awdah’s village of Umm al Khair, to visit his family, whom I’d gotten to know when I lived and worked there as a human rights activist in 2022. As Awdah’s three children, all under 5, ran around our feet, I handed a bouquet of flowers to his widow. Awdah’s cousin recounted how he and a dozen other members of the community had been arrested and tortured for days immediately after Awdah’s killing. With tears in his eyes, he told me how he had been forced to miss Awdah’s funeral — which took place only after a bureaucratic standoff with the authorities, who held Awdah’s body for 10 days before finally releasing it to his family.
His killer, in contrast, was detained for a single day. Upon his release, his gun was returned to him. The police claimed that they couldn’t pursue further investigation for lack of evidence, even though there were multiple videos of the shooting, including Awdah’s own.
Yes, I had visited the West Bank, I told the agent. I’d met with some friends who are struggling to be free.
What I didn’t say: Despite my fury over Awdah’s murder, when I visited Umm al Khair, and stood over the stain of Awdah’s blood on the concrete where he was killed, I felt an odd sense of calm wash over me.
Violence and hatred are magnetic: they have the power to call out the evil in all of us. I’ve felt that disturbing call myself. But I’ve also felt how nonviolence can counteract that dark magnetism. I’ve seen thousands of Jews from Israel and the diaspora choose to intercede in situations of oppression, to be a protective presence against settler and state violence, and to try to use our bodies to repel cruelty and domination. I’ve seen it work in places like Umm al Khair, and that’s why I have hope.
More people who believe in freedom, equality and security for all people need to engage in this work on the ground. Because the authoritarians and Jewish supremacists who wish to repress our movement are, in fact, scared of Jews and Palestinians who partner together. They’re scared because we are bonded not by blood and soil but values and visions of a shared future.
What we want is simple: a land where all Israelis and Palestinians can live free from repression and violence, build homes and watch their families flourish, and travel with whatever books they want. This is the future that my Israeli and Palestinian friends are fighting for. And I will, too, by any nonviolent means necessary.
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Temple Israel was my home — and what I learned there can help us get through this difficult moment
Temple Israel has long been a staple of the Detroit Jewish community — and in many ways, it has been a cornerstone of my own life. My connection to that synagogue stretches back to my earliest musical memories.
My first voice teacher, in 8th grade, was the wife of Temple Israel’s cantor, Neil Michaels. As a teenager, I sang in their choir, the Teen T’filah Team, where I was first exposed to the music of the Reform movement and where I first experienced the use of instrumentation in services. It was there that I first learned the song Kehilah Kedoshah by Dan Nichols, a piece I now frequently sing with our own East End Temple choir. As a high school student, I even sang alongside the cantors there during High Holiday services. Throughout childhood I remained close with all three of Rabbi Paul Yedwab’s children, as we attended school together, were in theatre together, and travelled to Israel together.
Temple Israel is where my mother studied for her adult bat mitzvah which was officiated by Rabbi Harold Loss. And it was Temple Israel that took me on my first and second trips to Israel — experiences that profoundly changed the trajectory of my life, deepening and reframing my relationship with Judaism, and ultimately inspiring me to devote my life to the Jewish people. I still vividly remember our 2010 Teen Mission to Israel, led by Rabbi Josh Bennett. On that trip, I realized something transformative: that clergy could be more than just symbolic exemplars of a community, but also fun, adventurous, relatable, deeply present in the lives of young people, and powerful influences on their willingness to engage in Jewish life.
That trip had an unquantifiable impact on me. It was on that drive home from the airport that I decided Judaism needed to once again become a more central part of my life. Two weeks later, for my senior year of high school, I made what felt at the time like a radical decision: I transferred from West Bloomfield High School to the Jewish Academy of Metropolitan Detroit (now the Frankel Jewish Academy).
During that year, I began seriously exploring whether I might pursue a career in the cantorate. I arranged an off-campus internship that allowed me to compare and contrast the life and role of the cantor in both the Conservative and Reform movements. Once a week, I studied privately with Cantor Meir Finkelstein at my family’s Conservative congregation, Shaarey Zedek, and another day each week, I studied with Cantor Michael Smolash at Temple Israel. Aside from my internship, my favorite class that year was a course called Denominational Differences, co-taught by rabbis from the Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform movements — including two of my own beloved rabbis, Aaron Starr (Shaarey Zedek) and Josh Bennett (Temple Israel). In fact, that very subject eventually became the topic of my master’s thesis in cantorial school.
Needless to say, it is unlikely that I would be standing here today as your cantor were it not for the profound influence that the Metro Detroit Jewish community—and Temple Israel in particular—had on me throughout my childhood.
It is for this reason that yesterday’s news struck me so deeply. Learning of antisemitic attacks in the news is always painful and disturbing. Yet, as the frequency of these attacks across the globe becomes evermore pervasive, it’s difficult not to become slightly jaded or emotionally hardened — a natural coping mechanism to deal with ongoing trauma. People are not meant to live in a state of perpetual anxiety and hypervigilance.
But yesterday’s attack on Temple Israel shook me to my core. It is impossible not to experience antisemitism differently when it touches your own community. Realizing that one of my childhood synagogues was the target of a terrorist attack feels surreal. We know intellectually that terrible things happen in the world — but we rarely expect them to happen to us. We must, therefore, remain forever mindful that tragedy is always personal to someone.
Even amid this frightening event, I am profoundly grateful for the brave security personnel at Temple Israel — especially their director of security, Danny — who quite literally put his life on the line to protect everyone inside the building, including the 106 preschool children and teachers who were in class at the time. We pray for the swift and complete physical and emotional healing of those officers, and we hold them in our hearts. It is truly miraculous that no civilians were injured during this attack. And the outpouring of support from the broader Metro Detroit community has been extraordinary — especially from our non-Jewish friends and neighbors who did not hesitate to help in our time of need.
We are particularly grateful to the Chaldean (Iraqi-Christian) community who opened their homes and businesses to shelter those fleeing the scene. The Chaldean-owned Shenandoah country club, museum, and cultural center across the street immediately welcomed and protected those seeking refuge. The fact that Shenandoah — the largest Chaldean community center in the United States — stands directly across the street from Temple Israel — the largest Reform synagogue in the United States — is no coincidence. It reflects the deep personal and communal ties between our communities.
When I was a student there, West Bloomfield High School was comprised of roughly one-third Jewish and one-fifth Chaldean students. Our communities shared classrooms, neighborhoods, friendships — and often cultural similarities. Both Jews and Chaldeans are Middle Eastern peoples whose identities weave together religion, culture, and ancestry. Both communities carry histories shaped by persecution and resilience. Both place profound emphasis on family, education, and tradition. In fact, back home I became somewhat known as the Chaldean community’s Jewish wedding singer, singing at numerous Chaldean churches as the bride walked down the aisle.
In moments like this, we see those shared bonds revealed in the most powerful of ways. I have no doubt that from this tragic incident something meaningful will emerge: our communities will grow stronger, more resilient, more deeply connected, and even more outspokenly proud of our identities. Hatred seeks to isolate and intimidate, but solidarity, courage, and compassion remind us that we are never alone. When neighbors protect neighbors, when communities stand together in the face of fear, we transform even the darkest moments into opportunities for unity, strength and hope.
Olivia Brodsky is the cantor and co-clergy of East End Temple in Manhattan.
The post Temple Israel was my home — and what I learned there can help us get through this difficult moment appeared first on The Forward.
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California Education Department Sues Oakland School District Over Alleged Refusal to Enact Antisemitism Reforms
Californians protesting outside the Department of Education in Sacramento. Photo: ZUMA Press Wire via Reuters Connect
California is suing one of its own publicly funded school systems, the Oakland Unified School District (OUSD), accusing its officials of refusing for several years to address antisemitism and protect the civil rights of Jewish children being subjected to abuse by both their peers and teachers.
Filed by the state’s Department of Education on March 5, the complaint alleges that OUSD’s superintendent never followed through on “corrective actions” decreed by the department to correct a hostile environment which produced “multiple complaints of antisemitism.” One of the measures called for issuing a letter to parents that “condemns antisemitism” while outlining OUSD’s efforts to combat it. The state charges that the superintendent, Dr. Denise Saddler, ignored its directive, a legal obligation as a state entity and recipient of public funds.
“No law or regulation grants OUSD the discretion to disregard or delay prompt implementation of the corrective actions mandated,” the complaint says. “Unless this court grants the relief requested, respondent OUSD will continue to fail and refuse to perform its legal duties.”
The lawsuit continues a dispute between the department and OUSD which began last year when, amid a flood of Jewish students leaving the district, the agency found OUSD guilty of antisemitic discrimination which affected both students and staff. In one incident, the district allowed the presentation of a map, prepared in support of Arab American Heritage Month, which did not include Israel. Speaking to The Oaklandside, a local newspaper, in October, an OUSD spokesman admitted that was “an oversight,” but by that time it had already happened twice.
California itself is being sued by a coalition of leading Jewish advocacy organizations over its alleged failing to address “systemic” antisemitic discrimination in K-12 public schools.
Led by the Louis D. Brandeis Center for Human Rights Under Law and StandWithUs, the legal action stems from consecutive years of antisemitic abuse perpetrated against Jewish students, parents, and teachers by anti-Zionists at every level of the school system. Court documents shared with The Algemeiner earlier this week revealed new, harrowing accusations of Jews being called “k—kes,” Jewish students being threatened with gang assaults, and K-12 students chanting “F—k the Jews” during anti-Israel demonstrations promoted by faculty.
In one highly disturbing incident described in the legal complaint, fifth graders from the OUSD were filmed by the teacher saying “Another major thing that I’ve learned is that the Jews, the people who took over, basically just stole the Palestinians’ land” and “one thing that’s really surprising to me, and that appeals to me is that the US is helping the Jews.” In another incident, the Oakland Education Association confected a curriculum in which the intifada — which refers to two prolonged periods of terrorism in which Palestinians murdered Israeli civilians — was taught to third graders as a nursery rhyme.
Litigation related to antisemitic incidents in California K-12 schools surged following Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel, which triggered a barrage of antisemitic hate crimes throughout the US and the world. The list of outrages includes a student group chanting “Kill the Jews” during an anti-Israel protest and partisan activists smuggling far-left, anti-Zionist content into classrooms without clearing the content with parents and other stakeholders.
Elsewhere in California, K-12 antisemitism has caused severe psychological trauma to Jewish students as young as eight years old and fostered a hostile learning environment, according to complaints.
In the Berkeley United School District (BUSD), teachers have allegedly used their classrooms to promote antisemitic stereotypes about Israel, weaponizing disciplines such as art and history to convince unsuspecting minors that Israel is a “settler-colonial” apartheid state committing a genocide of Palestinians. While this took place, high level BUSD officials were accused of ignoring complaints about discrimination and tacitly approving hateful conduct even as it spread throughout the student body.
At Berkeley High School, for example, a history teacher forced students to explain why Israel is an apartheid state and screened an anti-Zionist documentary, according to a lawsuit filed in 2024 by the Brandeis Center and the Anti-Defamation League (ADL). The teacher allegedly squelched dissent, telling a Jewish student who raised concerns about the content of her lessons that only anti-Zionist narratives matter in her classroom and that any other which argues that Israel isn’t an apartheid state is “laughable.” Elsewhere in the school, an art teacher, whose name is redacted from the complaint for matters of privacy, displayed anti-Israel artworks in his classroom, one of which showed a fist punching through a Star of David.
In October, California Gov. Gavin Newsom signed a law which requires the state to establish a new Office for Civil Rights for monitoring antisemitism in public schools at a time of rising anti-Jewish hatred across the US. As previously reported by The Algemeiner, the bill confronted Newsom, a Democrat rumored to be interested in running for US president in 2028, with a politically fraught decision, as it aims to limit the extent to which the state’s ideologically charged ethnic studies curricula, supported by progressives and many Democrats, may plant anti-Zionist viewpoints into the minds of the 5.8 million students educated in its public schools.
Newsom, who has since endorsed the false charge that Israel is an “apartheid” state, approved the measure amid these cross currents, paving the way for state officials to proceed with establishing an Antisemitism Prevention Coordinator, setting parameters within which the Israeli-Palestinian conflict may be equitably discussed, and potentially barring antisemitic materials from reaching the classroom.
Follow Dion J. Pierre @DionJPierre.
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US Jewish Lawmaker Releases Audio of Antisemitic Death Threat
US Representative Max Miller (R-OH) joins House Republican Study Committee members as they hold a press conference on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC, US, July 14, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Jonathan Ernst
A Jewish member of the US Congress released audio this week of an antisemitic death threat he says his office received, warning that rising hostility toward Jewish public officials is translating into real-world intimidation and violence.
Rep. Max Miller, a Republican who represents Ohio’s 7th Congressional District, posted an 11-second voicemail sent to his congressional office. In the recording, the caller uses antisemitic language and expresses hope that Miller will be violently attacked, invoking stereotypes about Jews and suggesting he deserves to be killed.
“Just for being a Jewish piece of s—t who thinks they own the world, I hope some f—king Arab motherf—ker jumps out of the bushes and cuts off your f—king head,” a man says in the message.
Miller said the threat reflects a broader climate of antisemitism that Jewish leaders and pro-Israel advocates say has intensified since the war between Hamas and Israel began in October 2023.
The congressman, one of the few Jewish Republicans in the House, has said that threats like the voicemail are increasingly common for Jewish lawmakers and contribute to heightened security concerns across Capitol Hill.
Miller has previously faced hostility because of his Jewish identity and support for Israel.
In June 2025, Miller reported that a man displaying a Palestinian flag aggressively confronted him while he was driving in Ohio, shouting “death to Israel,” threatening him and his family, and forcing his vehicle off the road. Authorities later arrested a suspect and charged him with offenses including aggravated menacing and ethnic intimidation.
Miller characterized the incident as an act of antisemitic intimidation and said it underscored the risks Jewish public officials face in an increasingly polarized environment surrounding Israel.
Miller’s decision to release the threatening voicemail this week came the same day that a gunman targeted a synagogue near Detroit, sending shockwaves through Jewish communities across the country.
On Thursday, local and federal authorities say a man rammed a vehicle into Temple Israel in West Bloomfield Township, Michigan before opening fire, prompting a shootout with armed security guards. Authorities said roughly 140 people, including more than 100 children attending a preschool program, were inside the building at the time, but no congregants were harmed due to the rapid response of security personnel. The assailant was killed by the synagogue’s armed security, according to police.
Officials and Jewish organizations described the attack as a stark reminder of the security threats facing Jewish institutions nationwide. Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer condemned the violence and warned that rising antisemitism poses a serious danger to Jewish communities.
Miller said he released the audio publicly to draw attention to what he describes as the increasingly hostile climate facing Jewish Americans and pro-Israel leaders.
