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Inside the auction house driving the rare-book craze in the Orthodox world
(JTA) – Israel Mizrahi joined dozens of fellow connoisseurs of rare Jewish books last December to watch the livestream of Genazym, the hottest auction house in the market. A bookdealer by trade, Mizrahi was also on the phone being paid to advise a wealthy client who had signed up to make bids.
But as the auction proceeded, Mizrahi’s advice had little use. His trigger-happy client didn’t seem to care about established valuations: He ended up paying about $50,000 for a book estimated at half that price. “He just pressed the button and kept on bidding until the bidding was over,” Mizrahi said. “There was no convincing him out of it. He spent nearly $600,000 that day and there was no sense to it.”
Behavior that confounds veterans of the rare Jewish book market has become routine at auctions organized by Genazym.
Mizrahi recalled the sale in 2021 of a Passover Haggadah printed in the 1920s in Vienna. With attractive illustrations of a prominent 19th-century rabbi named Moses Sofer and his family, the book makes for a nice addition to a collection. It also happens to be very common.
“I sell copies for $100, and I have probably sold 150 copies in my life,” said Mizrahi, whose shop in Brooklyn is a mecca for Jewish book lovers. “It sold for about $5,500 at Genazym’s auction. I currently have it on sale still for $100.”
At the highest end of sale prices, a 16th-century first-edition Shulchan Aruch, a book of Jewish law, commanded $620,000 at a Genazym auction last September, while a copy of Noam Elimelech, a classic rabbinic treatise, printed in 1788, fetched $1.4 million four months later — in both cases at least doubling or tripling what experts thought the items were worth based on past sales of the same texts.
“Genazym has come on like a freight train into the world of Jewish auctions. Some of the prices realized are far beyond what this market has seen before,” said David Wachtel, the former Judaica consultant for Sotheby’s auction house.
Since Genazym’s first auction in 2017, it has sold some 1,900 books, manuscripts and other collectible documents for about $26 million plus commission, roughly $12 million above total starting prices, according to an analysis by the Jewish Telegraphic Agency of auction records on Genazym’s website. Genazym has increasingly outperformed the longest-standing Judaica auction firms in New York and Jerusalem.
A page from an illustrated Passover haggadah printed in Vienna in the 1920s. (Courtesy of Genazym)
It’s hard to tell exactly what’s driving the boom because the identity of Genazym’s customers is confidential and few flaunt their collections widely. One of the auction house’s owners, in a rare public comment, ventured that Jewish buyers are craving a connection with their heritage. What’s clear is that at a time when traditional libraries are cutting back on buying Jewish texts, Genazym is tapping into an emerging luxury market among Orthodox Jews — and fueling the rise of religious texts as both a status symbol and investment vehicle in some communities.
“I know the sellers, the customers and everybody involved and there is a new wealthy class of Orthodox Jews that have a limited range of things they can splurge on,” Mizrahi said. “They don’t go to Vegas, they don’t do crazy vacations. They keep kosher. So this is a way that they can splurge and show off.”
Rabbi Pini Dunner, who collects rare Jewish books, said investing in Judaica is likely attractive for some in the Hasidic community, whose religious observance is stricter than that of congregants at his Modern Orthodox synagogue in the Los Angeles area.
“There are people I know here in Beverly Hills who’ve got car collections worth tens of millions of dollars,” Dunner said. “In the Hasidic world that has no currency, just as the wow factor of a Picasso has no currency. An original manuscript or first-edition of the Noam Elimelech has a real wow factor, particularly if you can tell people the book sold for more than a million dollars at a Genazym auction.”
The impression that the Hasidic world has grown wealthier over the last decade or two is widespread and based, at least in part, on the proliferation of luxury products and services tailored for the community in places like Lakewood, New Jersey, and Kiryas Joel, New York. Weddings have become increasingly expensive and elaborate, fine dining options are common, and high-end kosher wine and liquor are more readily available.
“It wasn’t that long ago that sit-down dining was looked down upon or not even available. Now there are a plethora of options,” said Chaim Saiman, a law professor at Villanova University who studies the intersection of commerce and Jewish law. “It’s no secret that $200 bottles of Scotch appear at kiddush clubs all the time. $50 used to be a big deal, then $100 was a big deal, now we are at $200.”
Where the new wealth is coming from is not totally clear. Limited survey and U.S. Census data suggests that Orthodox Jews feel crunched by costs associated with practicing religion and that there are large pockets of poverty among them, particularly in Hasidic communities, according to Mark Trencher, the founder of Nishma Research, a nonprofit dedicated to studying the Orthodox Jewish community. The prevalence of large families also means that generational wealth can be harder to accrue for Orthodox Jews.
But there have always been high earners whose philanthropy has buttressed their communities, Trencher noted. “There are a lot of people in that community that are very successful in their businesses and they have large amounts of wealth,” he said. “Those people generally are huge donors to charities. From a financial perspective, those communities are probably doing much better than you would expect them to.”
Many of those high earners make their money through entrepreneurship rather than professional success in the white-collar world. Many nursing home chains — an industry valued at an estimated $171 billion and where growth is expected — have Orthodox owners. Amazon has also created new opportunities for Orthodox businessmen. Orthodox landlords, meanwhile, have benefited from skyrocketing real estate prices in places like Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
A page from a 16th-century first-edition Shulchan Aruch, a book of Jewish law, which fetched $620,000 at a Genazym auction. (Courtesy of Genazym).
Recent reporting in The New York Times about the Hasidic education system has provided a window into another stream of revenue for private businesses in the community. Entrepreneurs in the community have responded to the increased availability of government funding for special education in New York in recent years by establishing companies to service Hasidic schools, with the government footing the bill. In one example highlighted by the Times, a married Hasidic couple opened such a business in 2014 when they were 21 and 19 years old; in 2022, their company received more than $38 million in government funding.
The owners of another set of companies providing services to Hasidic schools appear to have used their windfall to purchase rare books through Genazym. The owners were indicted in January for allegedly billing the government for more than $1 million in childcare services that they never provided and otherwise defrauding the government out of more than $2.8 million.
Prosecutors are seeking to have the alleged fraudsters forfeit seven books and other documents as listed in a federal indictment. They include manuscripts with a rabbinic signature and rare books of blessing and Jewish law, all of which match items listed on Genazym auctions, where they sold for a total of about $274,000.
Buying Jewish texts at auction can seem like a savvy investment for buyers seeking to safeguard or grow their wealth. Before Genazym launched, a typical Genazym buyer might have invested in U.S. Treasury bills or the stock market, according to Wachtel, the former Sotheby’s consultant.
“I think Genazym has been able to convince people that this is a good vehicle for establishing and growing wealth,” he said. “That also dovetails with your ability to, let’s face it, show off. Somebody comes to your house, you can show them a first-edition Shulchan Aruch. But you’re not going to say, hey, come look at my T-bills.”
The auction house’s tactics appear tailor-made for this growing market. Its motto is “Own your heritage,” and it’s printed on the catalogs the company distributes through popular Orthodox magazines like Ami or Mishpacha or podcasts, places where people with no prior interest in books might encounter the hype. The catalogs also appear in synagogues in heavily Hasidic areas like Brooklyn or Lakewood, but without the prices printed on them so as not to violate a Jewish prohibition against discussing financial matters on Shabbat.
The descriptions in the catalogs emphasize any links that exist between the items for sale and notable rabbis from history, especially figures who established rabbinic dynasties that continue to exist today and who are revered by yeshiva-educated Orthodox Jews. The link might be a signature of a rabbi in a ledger from an old fundraising tour that took place 200 years ago. Or it might be that an important rabbi owned the book in question or even prayed out of it. Like a pair of pants of a prominent Israeli rabbi that drew widespread attention when they briefly went up for auction last month, these texts are seen by some as conferring holiness onto those who possess them. By virtue of their pedigree, these artifacts might even be seen as a segula, or Jewish protective charm.
In its promotional materials and live auctions, Genazym also uses more colloquial and hyperbolic language to describe its items than traditional auction houses, which tend to stick to the kind of terminology used by academic scholars.
“Genazym found a formula to make books and manuscripts really exciting for the layperson, especially in the Orthodox community,” said Yoel Finkelman, a former curator of the Judaica Collection at the National Library of Israel. “They are not using the vocabulary of experts, they’re using plain ordinary language, like ‘very old’ or ‘very rare.’ No one at Sotheby’s would ever refer even to a thousand-year-old book that way.”
Genazym’s unique approach extends to the delivery of items to buyers. A traditional buyer in the rare Jewish book market, like Michelle Margolis, Columbia University’s Jewish studies librarian, might only care that the book they bought is safely delivered. But with Genazym, the books come wrapped in a proper clamshell and velvet bag. “I rolled my eyes when my delivery arrived, but at the same time that’s a lot of investment,” Margolis said, adding that many other auction houses have been cutting costs, for example, by doing away with their customary printed catalogs.
Jacob Djmal, who lives in Brooklyn, has dabbled in Judaica collecting for many years, an interest he picked up from his grandfather. He remembers suddenly seeing Genazym’s advertising everywhere. “They started reaching out to you in every way possible, finding a demographic that wasn’t aware before. Every Genazym auction I have people texting me — ‘Did you hear about this? Did you hear about that?’ — as if something is happening that had never happened before.”
Sometimes, that is true. A breakout moment came during the December auction, when Genazym cleared $4.4 million in sales, about $2.6 million above total starting prices.
“If there was any doubt that Genazym were now the most commercially remarkable rare book auction house on Earth, the results of their latest Judaica auction this week put paid to that: essentially almost every lot sold for at least twice [the estimated amount],” a major British book collector living in France said on his anonymous Twitter account, which has around 110,000 followers, in December.
If there was any doubt that Genazym were now the most commercially remarkable rare book auction house on earth, the results of their latest Judaica auction this week put paid to that: essentially almost every lot sold for *at least* twice estimate…. 1/https://t.co/iAC4sQudIz pic.twitter.com/eeunjqWzAs
— Incunabula (@incunabula) December 13, 2022
It remains to be seen whether Genazym can challenge Sotheby’s Judaica division as the destination for sellers with the rarest and most valuable books. Last year, a medieval prayer book sold for $8.3 million at Sotheby’s and this year, the New York auction house is accepting bids for the oldest known copy of the Hebrew Bible, which is expected to fetch as much as $50 million.
But Djmal considers especially remarkable about Genazym is not just the high prices but also the way in which rare books have caught on among Orthodox youth as something cool. “My son and his friends in yeshiva are talking about these items,” Djmal said. “These books represent rabbis they have heard about from a young age.”
The team behind Genazym’s success is led by three brothers from the Stefansky family who live in Jerusalem and New York. Before starting an auction house they worked for many years as private dealers in the rare book market. Their names, Chaim, Moshe and Bezalel, rarely appear anywhere and they almost never grant interviews. Chaim Stefansky made an exception for the Jewish Telegraphic Agency and requested that this article not put him in the spotlight nor portray Genazym’s success as a product of his business acumen.
Stefansky said Genazym has tapped into a universal and deep-seated desire of people to strengthen their identities by connecting with the past. The Jewish community, he said, has been poorly served by an emphasis on historical and even current persecution.
“Always, we are victimized and we cry,” Stefansky said. “What we have in common maybe is that your grandmother and my grandmother were sharing the same bed in Auschwitz. Give me something positive of my past to be proud of. Your heritage has not only sorrow but also a happy, rich, and huge intellectual tradition. So Genazym comes and tells people about their heritage. It’s yours. It belongs to you.”
He said the same thing can be done with any ethnic or religious group.
“If you go to the Irish community and press the right buttons in terms of what you know that every Irish person is extremely proud of, I think you’ll be very successful,” Stefansky said.
He rejected the impression that Genazym’s buyers come primarily from the ranks of the nouveau riche in the Hasidic world.
“It’s coming from all sections,” Stefansky said. “People will say that there’s a lot of fresh money in the market. But we also have very good old money. We have institutions. And, also, the regular man. Mostly, the regular man, who never knew he could have access to any of this.”
One of the only customers who agreed to be identified and interviewed for this article is Rick Probstein, who says he’s spent more than $100,000 at the company’s auctions. He can’t remember when he started seeing Genazym catalogs but he had never collected Judaica before, which is perhaps surprising given that he’s an Orthodox Jew who’s been working in the collectibles business since he was a child trading baseball cards.
Today, at 53, Probstein is one of the largest sellers of sports collectibles in the world, operating through a dedicated account on eBay. “I run a humongous business — I am doing something like $160 million a year,” he said of his sales volume.
Probstein, who lives in Passaic, New Jersey, had long felt a pang of guilt about the lack of Jewish content in his collection. “I collect things but what do I have of my own heritage?” he recalled thinking to himself. “So when I started getting the catalogs, I said, ‘I gotta be a good Jew.’ I started bidding on things and I got really into it.”
Once Probstein got started, the Stefansky brothers began checking in on him, providing concierge service and cultivating him as a client.
“This is a boutique run by a Jewish family with a personal touch,” Probstein said “They call me on the phone, saying, ‘Rick, did you get the catalog? What did you think? Here are some items that you could really like.’”
Bidding on Genayzm items is not purely sentimental for Probstein. “I’m putting real money into it because I think that from an investment standpoint, it has a lot of upside,” he said.
Still, the items he buys tend to have personal significance.
“I am partial to items relating to the Chofetz Chaim,” Probstein said, referring to the rabbi and Jewish scholar Yisrael Meir Kagan, who died in 1933. Probstein’s oldest son is named Yisrael Meir in his honor. The Chofetz Chaim also appeals to Probstein because of his writings about lashon hara, the prohibition in Jewish law against speaking evil of people. “I think that speech is important and he’s sort of the embodiment of that,” Probstein said.
Genazym has sold six letters and a handwritten blessing signed or written by the Chofetz Chaim at prices ranging from about $16,000 to $68,000.
Ever since Probstein started collecting Judaica, these items have served as a draw for family and friends visiting his home.
“People in my community that come over for kiddush [refreshments after Shabbat service] know that I have this stuff and they always want to see it,” Probstein said. “Nobody ever looks at my sports memorabilia collection because it’s in my office but my Judaica stuff is in my house. They look at the letters and talk about the historical context. People love it.”
The revelation that so many Jews appear fascinated with their own history and want to engage with scholarly tradition comes at a time when many Jewish libraries have been struggling.
The library of the Jewish Theological Seminary in Manhattan, which has the most comprehensive and significant collection of Jewish books outside of Israel, has seen its footprint downsized amid budget cuts at the Conservative movement seminary. Also under financial pressure, American Jewish University was forced to sell its Bel Air campus in Los Angeles, which housed a library. Hebrew Union College, meanwhile, opted to end its Reform rabbinical training program in Cincinnati and even though the campus library has survived the cuts, financial uncertainty remains.
Genazym’s populist approach might hold lessons for Jewish institutions and university libraries with significant Judaica collections that hope to engage the public around books.
“The lesson is to lay off the snobbery a little bit,” said Finkelman, the former Judaica curator at the National Library of Israel, which is slated to reopen in a new and more accessible space later this year. “The goal of public institutions is to enable preservation but also to enable public access and public education. There are great stories in books and archives.”
Finkleman said he has encountered sneering reactions to the way Genazym promotes books, and they are similar to the response in the United States when the pop star Lizzo played a crystal flute that belonged to James Madison on stage at the Library of Congress.
“There are echoes of the same thing here,” he said. “Get out of the snobby ivory tower and realize you are preserving history for people.”
—
The post Inside the auction house driving the rare-book craze in the Orthodox world appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Author R.F. Kuang addresses backlash over Israeli character in newest book
The bestselling author R.F. Kuang has broken her silence over backlash to the inclusion of a minor Israeli character in her newest novel, Taipei Story.
The book, published last week, follows a Chinese-American student, Lily Chen, who studies abroad in Taipei hoping to reconnect with her cultural roots and perfect her Mandarin. But she quickly finds that bridging the gap between her Chinese heritage and American upbringing will be more difficult than she imagined.
In May, before the book was published, an excerpt from Taipei Story which included the unnamed Israeli character was leaked online. In a scene that lasts barely two pages, Lily attends a concert featuring a pianist “from Israel” who is described as “a big deal.” The vignette has little bearing on the plot beyond showing how Lily finds catharsis in the music.
Social media critics accused Kuang — who has previously donated special editions of her books to raise money for humanitarian relief organizations in Gaza — of “normalizing Israel” by depicting an Israeli character in a positive light. The topic trended on BookTok (for the uninitiated, TikToks about books), with some users calling on readers to cancel their preorders of the novel and bombard Taipei Story’s GoodReads page with one-star ratings. (So-called “review-bombing” violates GoodReads guidelines.)
Kuang did not comment on the social media-fueled controversy for months.
But in an interview with USA Today and at a book tour stop last week at Sixth & I, a historic Washington, D.C. synagogue, Kuang pushed back on her critics, saying the backlash reflected a misinterpretation of the passage. Video from the event was posted to TikTok, and the Forward independently confirmed with Kuang’s publisher that the recording accurately captured her remarks.
“I want to read charitably the person who’d seen the words ‘Israeli pianist’ and immediately been so afraid that this book was condoning these practices,” said Kuang, who didn’t specify what “these practices” referred to in the clip. “But the fact of the matter is that’s just not what that scene does. That’s not how it was intended, and that’s not how it reads.”
Kuang seemed to say that the scene, which takes place as Lily is in the midst of a personal cultural identity crisis, was actually commentary on the political dynamics underlying cultural encounters.
“I instead wanted to invite the reader to ask questions about what’s going on in this scene, what is this character noticing based on what we know about where she comes from, in the position of an arrogant American study abroad student,” Kuang said. “This scene raises a lot of questions about who gets to move through the world, who is received in what ways, what are geopolitics that undergird something as innocent as a concert.”
The subtext
Kuang, a PhD student at Yale in East Asian Languages and Literatures, has made a name for herself writing critiques of colonialism, imperialism and racism. She has also engaged politically beyond her written work, participating in the charity auction “Unbound for Gaza” in Sept. 2025. A few months later, she withdrew from a literary festival in the United Arab Emirates, citing her support for the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement’s call to boycott the UAE for allegedly supplying weapons to paramilitary groups in the brutal Sudanese civil war.
Kuang’s historical fantasy novels, Babel, or the Necessity of Violence and The Poppy War trilogy, take on British imperialism and the legacy of the Second Sino-Japanese War. Kuang’s foray into literary fiction, Yellowface, critiques cultural appropriation through a satirical account of a white author who passes off her dead Chinese friend’s manuscript as her own.
Taipei Story is an inner monologue that toggles between the narrator’s mundane problems — boy trouble, mosquito bites, unbearable heat — and her musings on colonialism and geopolitics.
Lily notices the “ghosts of Japan everywhere” — remnants from the Japanese occupation of Taiwan following its defeat in the First Sino-Japanese War.
Yet Lily also acknowledges Taiwan doesn’t fit neatly into the framework she learned in history class that “colonialism was bad,” noting that Taiwan never experienced a “decolonial transition” and remains caught between the influence of China and the U.S.
“Taiwan had only ever been passed from occupier to occupier — indeed, to Taiwan’s indigenous peoples, the Han Chinese themselves were occupiers,” Kuang writes. “So who was I to say any occupier was better than the last?”
Lily is also grappling with her own sense of being an outsider in Taiwan — a country her parents, who are from mainland China, have never visited. She hopes that learning Mandarin will help her reclaim a connection to her family’s past, but her grandfather’s death forces her to confront how much of that past she never really knew.
It’s against this backdrop that, roughly three-quarters of the way through the book, the unnamed Israeli pianist comes on stage. The reader is given only a few details about him: It was “his first time in Taiwan,” and he was “a dour-faced man who did not so much as crack a smile as we applauded.”
Later, Lily returns to the concert hall. She remarks that “the audience was not always as well behaved as they had been for the Israeli pianist. That had been a special occasion, it turned out. I rarely saw foreigners in the concert hall after that. Never again did I see a full house.”
Some online have suggested that the scene is “an allegory for the issue of watching Israeli occupation unfold.” Others read it as a commentary on the prestige afforded to foreign artists while Taiwanese artists are overlooked — and, by extension, on which conflicts around the world command our attention. Or perhaps the pianist’s nationality is significant simply because the narrator has a habit throughout the novel of identifying people by where they are from: “an Italian undergraduate,” “a German girl,” a “Hong Kong director.”
If the scene is meant to carry a hidden meaning, Kuang isn’t spelling it out.
Kuang told USA Today she was getting more comfortable moving away from “didactic” modes of storytelling, leaving room for readers to interpret for themselves.
“The risk of that,” she said, “is somebody runs away with the total opposite conclusion of what you’re putting on the page.”
The post Author R.F. Kuang addresses backlash over Israeli character in newest book appeared first on The Forward.
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How can Yiddish fans in Israel benefit from the growing Yiddish scene abroad?
דער הינטערגרונט
די באַציִונגען צווישן ייִדיש-אינסטיטוציעס אין ישׂראל און אין אַמעריקע איז אַ בכּבֿודיקע, אַקטועלע טעמע וואָס דאַרף הײַנט באַהאַנדלט ווערן מיט אַ פֿרישן צוגאַנג. אויף אַלע אַנדערע געביטן ווי זיכערקייט, ווירטשאַפֿט, געזונט און אַקאַדעמיע קאָן מען פֿעסטשטעלן אַז די אָ באַציִונגען זענען ברייט פֿאַרנעמיקע און מ׳קאָן אַפֿילו צוגעבן אַז די שטיצע פֿון אַמעריקאַנער ייִדנטום לטובֿת ישׂראל איז אין אַזאַ מאָס, אַז מ׳וואָלט זיך נישט געקאָנט פֿאָרשטעלן ווי אַ סך פֿון די אינסטיטוציעס וואָלטן פֿונקציאָנירט אָן דעם ריזיקן פֿינאַנציעלן אָנשפּאָר אויפֿן אַמעריקאַנעם ייִדנטום.
און ווי אַזוי זעט עס אויס אויפֿן געביט פֿון ייִדישע קולטור-באַציִונגען? וואָס שייך אַקאַדעמישע אויסטוישן און צוזאַמענאַרבעט אויף וויכטיקע אונטערנעמונגען אין אַמעריקע און אין ישׂראל איז דער מצבֿ אַ נישקשהדיקער. מע קאָן צוגעבן אַז דער תּחום נעמט אַריין אין פֿאַרלויף פֿון די יאָרן אַ פּאָר הונדערטער אַקטיווע אַקאַדעמיקער און אַוואַנסירטע סטודענטן.
ווען מיר טראַכטן זיך אָבער אַרײַן אין דער פֿראַגע, וואָס געשעט מיט דער ברייטערער געזעלשאַפֿט, איז דער מצבֿ אַ גאָר סטאַטישער. דאָס איז אַן אויסדרוק פֿון אַ גאָר באַגרענעצטער, לאָקאַליסטישער באַציִונג צו דעם פֿענאָמען פֿון ייִדישער קולטור אין אירע פֿאַרשידענע אויסדרוקן. אָט די פֿעסטשטעלונג איז גילטיק נישט נאָר לגבי אַמעריקע און ישׂראל, נאָר אויך לגבי אַ סך אַנדערע ייִשובֿים איבער דער וועלט. אין ישׂראל, אויסער דעם אָרטאָדאָקסישן סעקטאָר, זענען מסתּמא כּמעט אַ מיליאָן תּושבֿים אין די לעצטע פּאָר יאָר אַרײַן אינעם קרײַז פֿון ייִדיש-טעטיקייט אַ דאַנק דער אַקטיווער מעדיאַ, פֿייסבוק, פֿילמען און ייִדיש-קרײַזן. אַ ביסל אונטער דעם ראַדאָר, געניסט מען פֿון קונסט, הומאָר, כּלי־זמר-מוזיק. און די צאָל וואַקסט פֿון יאָר צו יאָר. קיין אַנקעטעס האָט מען ביז איצט, צום באַדויערן, נישט געפֿירט — דער עסטאַבלישמענט האָט קיין אינטערעס נישט אין אָט דער דערשײַנונג — און ס׳איז אַ שאָד, ווײַל אויב מ׳וואָלט געקאָנט באַקומען אָביעקטיווע באַווײַזן דערפֿון וואָלט מען געקאָנט נאָכפֿאָלגן די אָ פּראָצעסן און פּרוּוון ווירקן אויף זיי.
דער ברייטער, שוואַך אָרגאַניזירטער ציבור וואָס איז גענייגט צו ייִדיש, ווייסט אַפֿילו נישט, אַז אין 1996 איז אין לאַנד אָנגענומען געוואָרן דאָס געזעץ אויפֿצושטעלן „די נאַציאָנאַלע אינסטאַנץ פֿאַר ייִדישער קולטור“ וואָס איז גאָר טעטיק הײַנטצוטאָג, כאָטש, צום באַדויערן, מיט אַ מינימאַלן בודזשעט. דער דאָזיקער ציבור איז גלײַכגילטיק און כּמעט אין גאַנצן אומבאַוווּסטזיניק פֿון וואָס עס קומט פֿאָר אויפֿן געביט פֿון ייִדיש אין אַמעריקע און אַנדערע לענדער. ספּאָראַדיש, ווען די מעדיאַ גיט איבער וועגן אַ פֿעסטיוואַל, אָדער וועגן אַ קינסטלער וואָס האָט אַרויסגעגעבן אַ קאָמפּאַקטל, הערט מען עפּעס. אָבער דאָס איז אַ טראָפּן אין ים און מען ווייסט גאָרנישט פֿון דער וואַקסנדיקער, קוואַליטאַטיווער ייִדיש-טעטיקייט אין אויסלאַנד. ס׳איז לײַכט זיך פֿאָרשטעלן אַז אַזוינס געשעט אויך אין אַמעריקע און איבער אַנדערע קהילות. גאָר אַנדער איז דער מצבֿ לגבי דער טעמע פֿון חורבן, אָבער דאָס דאַרף נישט גערעכנט ווערן, ווײַל מיטן לערנען די געשיכטע פֿונעם חורבן באַנוצט מען זיך מיט אַ צאָל שפּראַכן ווי ענגליש, רוסיש, שפּאַניש, דײַטש וכדומה אָן זיך אָפּשצוטעלן און אַרײַנקלערן אין דער ראָלע פֿון ייִדיש, ייִדישער קולטור און אַשכּנזישן באַוווּסטזיין.
וואָס טוט מען כּדי צו פֿאַרבעסערן די לאַגע?
היות ווי כ׳בין אַ תּל-אָבֿיבער איז מיר לײַכטער אָנצוהייבן פֿון מײַנע אייגענע קאַנטן און פֿאָרלייגן אַן אַרבעטס-פּלאַן כּדי משפּיע זײַן אויפֿן ענגן, היגן לאָקאַליסטישן ייִדישיזם און פּרוּוון עס אויפֿלעבן. און די לייזונג איז אַ פּשוטע. וואָס מער די אינסטיטוציעס אין וועלכע כ׳בין טעטיק וועלן פֿאַרשפּרייטן ידיעות פֿון וואָס ס׳קומט פֿאָר אין דער ייִדיש-וועלט אין אַמעריקע און אַנדערע לענדער דורך אַלע קאָמוניקיר-מיטלען וואָס מיר האָבן, וועט דער עולם אין ישׂראל, דווקא דער טייל וואָס איז שוין נאָענט צו ייִדיש, אַנטפּלעקן פּלוצעם אַז מיר זענען אַ טייל פֿון אַ ברייטער און רײַכער ווירקלעכקייט. עס וועט אָפּשאַפֿן ס׳געפֿיל פֿון איזאָלאַציע און פֿאַרשטאַרקן ס׳געפֿיל פֿון אָנגעהעריקייט צו אַנדערע קהילות מיט טיפֿע אַשכּנזישע וואָרצלען (נישט נאָר דורכן חורבן.) תּכלית הייסט עס, מיר זאָלן אין ישׂראל פֿאַרשפּרייטן דעם פֿאָרווערטס, ווי אויך די פֿילצאָליקע פּראָגראַמען פֿון ייִוואָ, אַרבעטער-רינג, ייִדיש-בוך-צענטער אאַז״וו, נישט ווי עפּעס וואָס איז ערגעץ-וווּ ווײַט פֿון אונדז, נאָר ווי אַ ווירקלעכקייט וואָס געהערט צו אונדז. מיר נעמען אויף אַלע ייִדישע איבערלעבונגען פֿון אויסלאַנד און מיר ווילן אַז דער ישׂראלדיקער ציבור זאָל אויך געניסן דערפֿון.
שטעלט זיך די פֿראַגע, אין וועלכער מאָס וועט אָט דער צוגאַנג נישט זײַן אויפֿן חשבון פֿון אונדזערע אייגענע טעטיקייטן און ידיעות וואָס מיר מוזן כּסדר פֿאַרשפּרייטן כּדי צוציִען אַן עולם? מע דאַרף געפֿינען דעם גלײַכגעוויכט און לייזונגען כּדי דעם ים פֿון ידיעות זאָל זײַן אויסגעסדרט און דינען די אינטערעסן פֿון יעדן איינעם. צומאָל דאַרף מען זײַן אויסקלײַבעריש און געפֿינען די ריכטיקע מאָס און דעם ריכטיקן ווינקל פֿאַר יעדן תּוכן. דער פּועל-יוצא פֿון אַזאַ שפּאָגל־נײַער סטראַטעגיע וועט העכערן די נײַגעריקייט, די בילדונג און אַקטיוויזם פֿון אונדזערע אָרטיקע מענטשן. זיי וועלן וואַקסן אין צאָל און זיך אַנטוויקלען אויף אַ מער שעפֿערישן אופֿן. ס׳איז אַ סך עפֿעקטיוועער ווי זאָגן „ישׂראלים, זײַט נישט קיין פּראָווינציעלע ייִדישיסטן. ווערט גלאָבאַלע ייִדישיסטן.“ נאָר דאָס קאָן נישט זײַן. ס’קאָן נישט זײַן געצוווּנגען. מען דאַרף ברענגען אין מויל אַרײַן פֿון פּובליקום די אַלע צוציִענדיקע דערשײַנונגען וואָס קומען פֿאָר אין אַמעריקע און איבעראַל. אַזוי אַרום וועלן די ישׂראלים ביסלעכווײַז לאַנדן אויפֿן באָדן פֿון רעאַלן, לעבעדיקן ייִדישיזם פֿון אונדזערע טעג.
פֿון אַ שלל ידיעות ביז אַ בשותּפֿותדיקן הויפּט-באַגריף
אינפֿאָרמאַציעס און פּראָגראַמען זײַנען נישט גענוג. מע מוז אײַנפֿירן פֿרישע באַגריפֿן וועלכע סדרן אויס די אַלע דערשײַנונגען און גיבן זיי אַ ווערט פֿאַרן יחיד. ווען די אָפּנעמערס פֿון אַזוי פֿיל אינפֿאָרמאַציעס אין אייגן לאַנד און אויך פֿון אויסלאַנד וועלן באַגרײַפֿן די ברייטע דימענסיע אין וועלכער זיי טרעטן אַרײַן, וועלן די באַגריפֿן אַשכּנז, איר געשיכטע און ווערטן, פֿאַרוואַנדלט ווערן אין אַ ממשותדיקן יש וואָס יעדער איינער, וווּ נאָר ער געפֿינט זיך, קאָן פֿאַרקערפּערן אין דער טאָג־טעגלעכקייט. ס׳דאַרף פֿאָרקומען אַן אידענטיטעט-מעטאַמאָרפֿאָזע; אַנדערש וועט דער רעזולטאַט בלײַבן גאַנץ כאַאָטיש, אַפֿילו קאַרנאַוואַליש.
למשל, ס׳איז שיין וואָס דער ייִוואָ און אפֿשר אַ געוויסער אוניווערסיטעט לייגן פֿאָר דעם סטודענט און דעם אַלגעמיינעם ציבור פּרטימדיקע פּראָגראַמען וועגן דער אַשכּנזישער ציוויליזאַציע. פּרעכטיק! נאָר וואָס? די אָ פּראָגראַמען באַנוגעגען זיך דערמיט און ציִען נישט צו צו דער עיקר־פֿראַגע, וואָס טוט מען הײַנט מיט אָט דער ציוויליזאַציע? וואָס איז די אַחריות פֿונעם יחיד, פֿון דער משפּחה? ווי אַזוי גיט מען איבער דעם ייִדישן לשון צוזאַמען מיט אַ ברייט-פֿאַרנעמיקן געדאַנק וואָס ענטפֿערט אויף אַ סך פֿראַגעס, גיט אַ געפֿיל פֿון אָנגעהעריקייט און אינספּירירט צו נײַע, שעפֿערישע מעשׂים.
נאָך אַ ביישפּיל. דער אַרבעטער-רינג אין ניו-יאָרק, מיט אַלע זײַנע פֿיליעס אין פֿאַרשידענע שטעט, פֿירט דורך ערנסטע פּראָגראַמען זיך צו לערנען מאַמע-לשון, פֿײַערן יום-טובֿים און אויך, לויט זייער וועלט-אָנשויונג, אַנטוויקלט אַ געזעלשאַפֿטלעכן אַקטיוויזם וואָס שפּיגלט אָפּ די ווערטן און בירגערלעכע התחייבֿות כּלפּי דעם לאַנד וווּ ייִדן געפֿינען זיך. די דאָזיקע שטעלונג ווערט ליידער נישט דערגאַנצט מיט אַן ערנסטן אַקטיוויזם לטובֿת דער אייגענער ייִדיש-אַשכּנזישער אידענטיטעט. דעריבער איז זײַן השפּעה אויפֿן אַלגעמיינעם אַמעריקאַנער ייִדנטום זייער אַ באַשיידענער. אויך דער פֿאָרווערטס, וואָס שפּילט אַ צענטראַלע שליחות אין צונויפֿברענגען ענגלישע און ייִדישע לייענערס פֿון אומעטום, טוט עס אָן דעם ציל צו אַקטיווירן די רײַכע קוואַלן פֿון דער אַשכּנזישער אידענטיטעט. עס באַקומט זיך, ווי אַ האַלבע אַרבעט און מען מוז טראַכטן וואָס דאַרף דרינגענדיק געטאָן ווערן כּדי איר השפּעה זאָל וואַקסן און ווערן מער רעלעוואַנט.
אַ לעצטער בײַשפּיל. וואָס קאָן זײַן שלעכט, אויב דער YBC אין אַמהערסט וועט זיך פֿון צײַט צו צײַט דערלויבן איבערזעצן אויף ענגליש אויסגעקליבענע ווערק פֿון הײַנטיקע ייִדישע פּּאָעטן און שרײַבער פֿוֿן פֿאַרשידענע לענדער? פֿאַראַן אַ חשש צוליב די האָנאָראַרן וואָס מ׳וועט די מחברים דאַרפן צאָלן? כ’מיין אַז דער YBC איז שוין גובֿר געווען אויף מער ערנסטע, פֿינאַניעלע פֿאַרמעסטן. ס׳וועט אויך זײַן יושרדיק כּלפּי די מחברים וואָס זייערע ווערק ן זענען נישט זוכה צו קיין סטימול אָדער וועלכע-עס-איז סטיפּענדיע.
אויסווירקונג אויפֿן אַמעריקאַנער ייִדישיזם
אין מאָמענט ווען ייִדיש-אינסטיטוציעס אין אַמעריקע וועלן עפֿענען אַ פֿענצטער צו דאָס וואָס געשעט אויפֿן געביט פֿון ייִדיש אין ישׂראל און אין אַנדערע לענדער, וועט עס בהדרגהדיק פֿאַרבעסערן דעם מצבֿ און באַרײַכערן זייער אייגענע טעטיקייט. ס׳רעדט זיך נישט וועגן פֿאַרקלענערן איין פֿאָקוס אויפֿן חשבון פֿון צווייטן, נאָר גיכער וועגן שאַפֿן אַ נײַעם פֿאָקוס וואָס וועט נערן דעם נײַגער פֿון די אַמעריקאַנער ייִדישיסטן. דאָס וועט עפֿענען אַ ריזיקן פּראָצעס פֿון קעגנזייטיקייט. אַנדערש באַקומט זיך, אַז די הײַנטיקע ייִדיש-טעטיקייט באַקומט אַן עליטיסטישן פּראָפֿיל, און ווען מ׳ווענדט זיך שוין יאָ צו ברייטערע קרייזן פֿון דער באַפֿעלקערונג איז עס על-פּי-רובֿ מיטן פּנים צו דער פֿאַרגאַנגענהייט. הײַנט רעדט מען אָפֿט אין אַלגעמיינע, כּוללדיקע באַגריפֿן, נאָר ס׳איז נישט פֿאַראַן אַ קלאָרער אַדרעסאַנט, דאָס הייסט די אַשכּנזישע-אַמעריקאַנער ייִדן און וואָס דערוואַרט מען פֿון זיי.
די וואָרצלען פֿון אָט דער פּראָבלעמאַטיק ליגן אין דער טראַדיציאָנעלער אידעאָלאָגיע פֿון ייִדישיזם. היסטאָריש האָט זיך די אָ אידעאָלאָגיע אַנטוויקלט צוזאַמען מיטן באַגריף פֿון וועלטלעכקייט. די פֿירנדיקע כּוחות פֿון ייִדישיזם — בכלל, נישט נאָר אין אַמעריקע — האָבן זיך דערווײַטערט פֿון דער אָרטאָדאָקסיע און אויסקריסטאַליזירט אַן אידעאָלאָגיע וואָס שפּיגלט אָפּ ס׳ייִדישע לעבן זינט דער השׂכּלה ביזן סעקולערן ייִדישיזם וואָס הערשט הײַנט. און דאָס איז זײַן שוואַכקייט. דער כּוח פֿון דער אַשכּנזישער וויזיע שטעקט אין דעם, וואָס עס ברענגט צוזאַמען רעליגיע און וועלטלעכקייט, און שטיצט זיך נישט נאָר אויף מאָדערנאַ. דאָ ליגט דער הויפּט-מכשול וואָס באַשווערט די ייִדישיסטן זיך באַוועגן אויף די גאָר ברייטע שליאַכן פֿון אַשכּנז. אמת איז, אַז עס הערשט נישט הײַנט צווישן די ייִדישיסטן די אַקטיווע אַנטי-רעליגיעזקייט ווי אַ מאָל. אָבער דאָס מיינט נאָך נישט אַז ער האָט דערגרייכט די רײַפֿקייט צו אַקצעפּטירן אַלע טיילן פֿון ייִדישן קיום ווי זייער אייגענע קולטור־ירושה. אַ ייִד קאָן דערקלערן אַז ער איז אַ סעקולערער און דערצו אויך אונטערשטרײַכן די וואָגיקייט פֿון רעליגיע אין דער ייִדישער געשיכטע און אין זײַן הײַנטיקן באַוווּסטזיין.
דער ייִדישיזם אין אַמעריקע פֿאַרמאָגט שטאַרק אײַנגעפֿונדעוועטע אינסטיטוציעס. דאָך פֿעלט אים אַ ברייטער געוועב מיט פֿעדערלעך וואָס זאָל אים פֿאַרבינדן מיט ברייטע ייִדישע קהילות, סײַ אין אַמעריקע און סײַ איבער דער וועלט. ווען דער ייִוואָ איז אין ווילנע געשאַפֿן געוואָרן אין 1925 האָט ער פֿאַרמאָגט די העכסטע אינטעלעקטועלע כּוחות פֿון ייִדישיזם און גלײַכצײַטיק איז ער געווען געקניפּט און פֿאַרבונדן מיט הונדערטער קהילות איבער אייראָפּע. כּדי עפּעס ענלעכס זאָל איצט אויפֿקומען, מוז דער ניו-יאָרקער ייִוואָ אָנהייבן באַטראַכטן דעם מצבֿ אַנדערש, און צו דעם וואָס ווערט שוין געטאָן אויף די געביטן פֿון פֿאָרשונג, לימוד, השׂכּלה און קונסט, אַנטוויקלען אויך אַ סענסיטיווקייט צו אַלע געזעלשאַפֿטלעכע- און קולטור-דערשײַנונגען וואָס קומען פֿאָר אויפֿן געביט פֿון ייִדיש אין ישׂראל און איבעראַל.
לאָמיר האָפֿן אַז אַ נײַע דינאַמיק וועט זיך אין דער נאָענטער צוקונפֿט אַנטוויקלען און פֿון אַלע מעגלעכע ריכטונגען וועלן מיר זײַן עדות צו אַ גרויסן צונויפֿגאָס פֿון שטרעמונגען, און אַ מער אָנזעעוודיקער שעפֿערישקייט פֿון דער ייִדיש-קולטור אין אַ וועלט-מאָסשטאַב.
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The cancellation of Macklemore: A Yom Kippur reflection
In the Jewish calendar, this week is dedicated to reflection, introspection, and review of one’s thoughts and actions. The shofar has been sounded on Rosh Hashanah; Yom Kippur is on its way. Whether in traditional, theistic forms or less traditional, psychological ones, the Jewish tradition invites us to look inward.
It is in that spirit that I am reflecting on the latest tempest in the American Jewish teapot: the decision of billionaire Robert Kraft to ban the rapper Macklemore from performing at his stadium because of a statement he made onstage in support of Palestine — a decision echoed by other politically conservative stadium owners, which in turn caused superstar Ed Sheeran to boot Macklemore from his latest tour.
To be sure, this is hardly the most important chapter of the Israel/Palestine story. Just this week, bombs are still falling on Gaza, B’Tzelem released a must-read new report on Israel’s eliminationist policies in the West Bank, and an actual neo-Nazi is likely to win a seat in the Florida house of representatives. If anything, Macklemore’s cancellation will probably have a net-positive ‘Streisand Effect’ on his well-past-its-prime career.
But this relatively small controversy is nonetheless a fascinating prism on how we see differently, hear differently, and talk past one another on moral, political and ultimately spiritual matters of importance. And that has much to do with the themes of the Days of Awe.
My focus is not on who was right. Ultimately, I think Macklemore’s comments were lacking in depth and sophistication, but clearly not “hate speech,” which is how Kraft — the self-appointed macher of the widely-mocked ‘Blue Square’ anti-antisemitism campaign — described it. And I will explain why I believe that to be the case.
But I also don’t believe Kraft’s actions to be in bad faith. It is possible that he is simply using his wealth and power to ban political speech that he doesn’t agree with. And in practice, that is what he has done. But reviewing his comments, and those of friends of mine on social media, I am inclined to take Kraft and my friends at their word: that they experience Macklemore’s words as hateful. And because I disagree with that, I’m interested in why.
The rapper’s entire statement took two minutes. I encourage you to watch it now, since the tone and context are important, and since it’s faster to watch than to read:
A full transcript is here.
Two other bits of context, not present in the vieven if no such threat was present in that moment, video are relevant: First, images from the Gaza war were projected on a screen behind him, and second, back in 2014, Macklemore once wore a costume that looked, to many of us, like an antisemitic caricature, though he issued a persuasive (to me) and detailed apology, saying that this was not intentional.
In response, Kraft issued a (longer) statement saying that his venue, Gillette Stadium,
has a longstanding commitment to providing a welcoming environment for all guests and ensuring that events held at our venue do not provide a platform for hate speech. Based on Macklemore’s recent actions, material shared from the stage during Ed Sheeran’s shows in New Jersey, and a broader history of antisemitic rhetoric and imagery that we believe has been deeply offensive and hurtful to the Jewish community, we determined that his participation in the September 25th and 26th concerts at Gillette Stadium would cross that line.
Kraft added that his decision “is not about diminishing the suffering of innocent Palestinians or denying anyone the right to advocate on their behalf… but only sharing selective information and ignoring the actions of Hamas is not honest and only advances more divisiveness and hate… I would welcome the opportunity to sit down with Macklemore and discuss the facts, because ultimately our goal is the same — peace for all people, an end to suffering, and an end to all hate.”
I admit, my first response was amazement that any reasonable person could find what Macklemore said to be antisemitic. He spoke only about Israel’s actions, not its existence. He didn’t attack Zionism. He specifically distinguished between Israel and Jewish people. What more could he do?
Sure, the statement had its shortcomings. It didn’t mention Oct. 7 or condemn Hamas. It didn’t forcefully condemn antisemitism, or emphasize that strong criticism of Israel should not be taken out on Jews. The guy is a rapper, not a politician — even when he says nice things (e.g. the 2012 song “Same Love”), he’s often been clunky about it.
But hate speech?
Kraft didn’t really elaborate into what, exactly, ‘crossed the line’ for him. The best I can find in his statement is “only sharing selective information and ignoring the actions of Hamas is not honest and only advances more divisiveness and hate.” That seems preposterous to me. Maybe Macklemore’s statement was incomplete, but that doesn’t make it hate speech.
Others, in my own social media feed, have been more articulate. Echoing the statements of several prominent rabbis, some said that Macklemore’s uses of ‘apartheid’ and ‘genocide’ are themselves so inaccurate, extreme and vitriolic as to themselves be antisemitic. Others referred to the 2014 incident. Some even argued that saying ‘Free Palestine’ is equivalent to saying ‘Destroy Israel.’
To me, the most trenchant criticisms focused on context. Imagine, one person said, what it would be like to be a Jewish person in the stands, suddenly confronted with political speech that has been used to incite violence against Jews; even if no such threat was present in that moment, it’s easy to imagine being scared by it. One friend of mine pointed out that this wasn’t even Macklemore’s show; it was an opening act for Ed Sheeran, who is relentlessly apolitical. The comments would’ve been a surprise, even a shock.
These comments point to the real issue here, which is American Jewish pain and fear. And there are many sides to this experience.
On the one hand, I get it. I have personally experienced this sense of unsafety and exclusion in queer spaces where I have been confronted with much farther-left statements than Macklemore’s. I’ve heard calls for Zionists (whatever that word means) to be banned from my queer community, even expelled from queer spaces. I’ve heard (and written about) the most incendiary possible rhetoric directed at Israel, full of self-righteousness, certitude and rage. And I’ve seen a lack of accountability for the stochastic terrorism that language represents, including from the mayor of New York City.
On the other hand, I also know that the censure is one-sided. At the recent ‘Jewish American Summit,’ a speaker made wildly bigoted, anti-Muslim comments and was applauded by the crowd; no condemnation followed, even from the ADL, which cosponsored the event. Pro-genocide minister Itamar Ben Gvir shared an AI video of Palestinians being marched, concentration-camp-style, into an Israeli jail, where they emerge starved an emaciated; mission accomplished, Ben Gvir crowed. Crickets from the Jewish Establishment.
Mayor Mamdani was criticized for not marching in the Israel Day Parade, and then Bezalel Smotrich, who has unambiguously called for genocide against the Palestinian people, was welcomed by it. A relatively anodyne pro-Palestinian statement by a rapper is grounds for national cancellation, but calls for mass expulsion (or murder) by people without actual power are part of the ‘big tent.’
Some in the community have been clear on this: They are going to support the Jewish state because that is what good Jews do. So, yes, there’s a double-standard, they might reply, because one person is attacking us and the other is not.
Admittedly, there is ample Jewish textual support for this position. But there are plenty of proof-texts I can bring for the opposing point of view: that we must judge people fairly, that all humans are created in the image of the Divine, that being biased toward our own group is a shortcoming, not a virtue. And that when injustices are committed, even by those who are in our community, it is our duty to oppose them.
The Torah doesn’t say “justice, justice shall you pursue — except when it comes to Jews versus Palestinians.”
Most importantly, just because words can make us feel scared, angry, attacked, or unsafe does not mean that they constitute hate speech. This is what Kraft and others like him seem unwilling to see: that we can feel attacked without actually being attacked. That words can be painful but not hateful.
Admittedly, the ‘wokeness’ of the early 2020s has played a role in this confusion. At the peak of that period, we were told that impact mattered more than intent — that even if a comment were made innocently, if it caused someone to feel unsafe, it was deserving of censure. And then, in 2023, many Jews picked up the same thread. Sure, “From the River to the Sea” could be interpreted in a benign way (e.g. as wanting freedom for all people in the area) but if I hear it as a call for annihilating Israel and/or the Jews, then the phrase is hate speech.
But this principle was always misguided. People can say difficult, disagreeable, and wrong things without those things being actual hate speech. People may perceive threats without there being actual threats.
This is not unique to Israel/Palestine, or to politics. Fear and anger can block the better angels of our nature. I struggle with this every day; if there is one theme that recurs every Yom Kippur, it is working with anger and reactivity in my own life. Might that not apply to our public as well as our private lives? Is what seems like ‘righteous indignation’ sometimes just… indignation?
In fact, maybe some of the reason I feel unsafe is that I know that Israel has behaved in appalling and immoral ways, and I feel implicated by it. I grew up loving Israel, and it has been painful to watch its decline into vulgar, jingoistic and often racist ethno-nationalism. But that pain might not be a bad thing. On the contrary, it merits some reflection on the Day of Atonement.
As Yom Kippur insists, we can do better than reacting, half-unconsciously, to our emotional perceptions. As Viktor Frankl famously said,
Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom.
Teshuvah, the Jewish practice of ‘repentance’ and return, is designed to enlarge that space, to grow our capacity for freedom. We can do better, teshuvah insists.
I believe Robert Kraft, and many of my own friends, sincerely feel threatened by statements like Macklemore’s. I have felt similarly, at times, myself. But without more evidence (and one idiotic act in 2014 is not that), we owe it to one another and to the hope of a civil society to pause in that space between stimulus and response, and reflect on what is really being said.
What I see is a celebrity championing the cause of an oppressed population. He is misguided in various ways, but he is coming from a place of genuine concern, not bigotry. Would not the better response have been for Kraft to invite him into a conversation first, rather than campaign to have him banned across the country? Had Kraft done better here, might Macklemore also have done better in the future, even if the two continue to disagree?
This incident will likely not be remembered much in the future. It is less important than a single life lost in Gaza or Israel. But it is a window into how our human capacities and failings perpetuate cycles of conflict and miscommunication. On Yom Kippur this year, I’ll be reflecting on how I am part of those cycles myself, and how I can do better. I invite you to join me.
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