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Jewish institutions have a tool for fighting climate change: their bank accounts
(JTA) — The last eight years have been the hottest in recorded history, causing untold damage across the world — and that destruction is not something that we can reverse with the flick of a switch. We can’t instantly turn back the floods in California nor solve its decade-long drought. We can’t immediately end the wildfires in Colorado, hurricanes in Florida or flash floods in the Northeast and California.
But the American Jewish community has an important role to play in addressing the underlying cause of these devastating events and avoiding an ever-increasing cascade of destruction and harm.
Many of us are members of Jewish organizations or congregations that, often unknowingly, support fossil fuel companies. Even as we work to cut our carbon footprints, our investments are financing Exxon’s and Chevron’s expansion in fossil fuels. A recent report by the organization I lead, Dayenu, found that a sample of major Jewish organizations had over $3 billion invested in fossil fuel companies. According to Fossil Free Funds and the EPA, that’s $3 billion invested in coal, oil and gas companies that extract and burn carbon responsible for the equivalent of running 561,276 cars on the road for a year.
By reallocating that money from the extraction and burning of fossil fuels to investing in clean energy, we can turn our communal assets from a net cost to the earth to a net gain for our future.
The way forward is clear. The world’s leading scientists tell us that to avoid the worst impacts of the climate crisis, we must halve global greenhouse gas emissions by 2030 and end all climate pollution no later than 2050. Fossil fuels — coal, oil, and gas — are the leading contributors to climate change, responsible for 75% of all greenhouse gas emissions. Renewable energy sources like solar, wind, and hydropower are already cheaper, more reliable, and more lucrative for investors — while creating millions of jobs.
The vast majority of American Jews support bold climate action. A 2014 study found that 8 out of 10 American Jews were concerned or alarmed about the climate crisis. Since then, climate has become a top concern for American Jews, consistently ranking as a priority issue for American Jewish voters, especially young people. Initiatives like the Jewish Climate Leadership Coalition are helping institutions cut their emissions, and there is growing interest in socially responsible and impact investing.
These steps show a commitment to taking action — but much more is needed to reach the scale necessary to confront climate change. Over the past few years, Brandeis, a university “animated by Jewish values, rooted in Jewish history and experience,” decided to turn concern into action.
Joining Harvard, Yale and other universities, Brandeis divested some $997 million from fossil fuel companies in 2018. But University President Ronald Liebowitz said a recent decision to further reduce exposure to fossil fuels and expand investments in clean energy helps move the university to further align with its Jewish values and become “a Brandeis that strives to reflect one of its highest values: using one’s talents to repair the world — in word and deed.”
It’s not just institutions of higher education. Thousands of other organizations have already moved their money from fossil fuels to clean energy investments. Sovereign states like Norway, major retirement plans like New York City’s pension funds, and numerous faith organizations have all moved their resources in ways designed to make them agents of a sustainable future.
Now Jewish organizations, institutions and communities can join them. As part of the report “With All Our Might: Bechol M’odecha: How the Jewish Community Can Invest in a Just, Livable Future,” Dayenu lays out a six-step Roadmap for Change to help the Jewish community better align its investments with its values. Beginning with Jewish learning, or reishit chochma (grounding), the steps guide institutional leaders through cheshbon (research investments), limmud (education), sicha (engagement), kavanah (making a plan) and kadima (moving your money).
Larger institutions will focus on their asset managers, while congregations and smaller organizations will focus on their banks. By advocating publicly and privately with both banks and asset managers — the two primary financiers of fossil fuel extraction — to reinvest their money, Jewish organizations can educate their communities about sustainability and finance. Vocally aligning their finances with their values, the Jewish community can help speed a movement away from fossil fuels and toward clean energy at the pace that we, and future generations, need to survive.
And, make no mistake, it’s a race against time. The International Energy Agency — the world’s most respected energy analysis group — says that to reach zero emissions by 2050, we need to invest $4 in clean energy for every $1 in fossil fuels every year for the next few decades. However, since the Paris Agreement was signed, asset managers and banks have put trillions of dollars into the fossil fuel industry. To win this race, we need to use the lever of private finance. Faced with pressure from whole sections of the public — including the Jewish community — companies like BlackRock, Citigroup, JPMorganChase and Vanguard could be persuaded to hasten the transition to clean energy.
The American Jewish community is well-positioned to take meaningful climate action. Like other faith traditions, we are well-organized, and our institutions have an estimated $100 billion of investment assets. Following Dayenu’s six-point roadmap, we can withhold the Jewish community’s financial support for dirty energy and instead invest in renewables. By raising our voices alongside the many investors who are calling for change, we can accelerate the transition to a clean energy future. As floods, fires, and heat waves come with alarmingly greater frequency and severity, we know we have no time to waste.
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The post Jewish institutions have a tool for fighting climate change: their bank accounts appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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The Day I Hid My Star of David Necklace
Anti-Israel protesters gather at Museumplein ahead of a 6 km march through the city as part of a protest demanding a tougher stance from the Dutch government against Israel’s war in Gaza, in Amsterdam, Netherlands, Oct. 5, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Charlotte Van Campenhout
There are moments when a small object can feel unbearably heavy.
For me, it was my Star of David necklace — a delicate piece, inherited through generations, usually worn without a second thought. But recently, for the first time, I left it at home on purpose.
I have spent more than a decade publicly defending Israel in the Netherlands. I am not easily intimidated. I have never believed in lowering my voice to make others comfortable. Yet years of activism have taught me something sobering. Conviction does not shield you from hatred.
In the Dutch debate, hostility toward Israel is often dressed up as principled anti-Zionism. The terminology sounds political, even academic. In practice, it frequently mutates into something far uglier. I have been called a dirty Jew, a child killer, a parasite. I have received death threats online. Eggs were thrown at my home. My car tires were slashed more than once. A dead pigeon was once hung on my door in a plastic bag, a grotesque attempt at intimidation.
The irony is bitter. According to rabbinical standards, I am not considered Jewish enough to qualify for Aliyah under religious law, despite Jewish roots on both sides of my family. Yet to those who despise Israel, I am more than Jewish enough to be targeted.
When I reported the harassment, I was advised to keep a lower profile. Perhaps, I was told, I should refrain from speaking so openly in support of Israel. That conversation taught me a painful lesson. Protection would not necessarily come from institutions. It would have to come from resilience.
Over the years, I have lost professional opportunities and personal relationships. I occupy a strange space. Too Jewish for some. Not Jewish enough for others. Meanwhile, I am accused of being a Mossad agent or a paid operative for advocacy groups such as CIDI. The truth is less glamorous. I am simply a Dutch woman who has studied history and refuses to distort it.
Still, something shifted recently.
I needed to see a cardiologist. A routine appointment, nothing political about it. Out of caution, I searched his public social media profile. He had shared and endorsed extreme anti Israel content, including propaganda portraying Israel as uniquely evil. Suddenly a standard medical visit felt charged.
That morning, I removed my Star of David and placed it on my dresser.
The gesture unsettled me more than I expected. It felt like surrender. The same calculation followed before an appointment with another medical professional, originally from Iran. Check social media. Remove visible symbols. Avoid potential bias. Stay invisible.
I am not proud of that instinct. For years I have urged others to stand tall. Yet when you are alone in a climate of escalating hostility, prudence can override pride. Health is not a battleground on which one wishes to test ideological neutrality.
The broader context explains why this fear is not imaginary. The Netherlands has witnessed a sharp rise in antisemitic incidents. CIDI, the Center for Information and Documentation on Israel, recorded 379 antisemitic incidents in 2023, then 421 in 2024, the highest number since monitoring began. Police figures, using broader criteria, have been even higher. These are not abstract data points. They represent Jewish students harassed in classrooms, mezuzot ripped from doorposts, and families who hesitate before displaying visible signs of identity.
Each year on Holocaust Remembrance Day, including ceremonies marking the liberation of, we solemnly repeat the words “never again.” The phrase echoes with sincerity. But remembrance without vigilance is ritual without substance.
My advocacy for Israel does not stem from blind loyalty. It arises from historical understanding. After two thousand years of exile, persecution, and statelessness, the reestablishment of Jewish sovereignty in 1948 was not a colonial experiment but an act of national restoration. Israel, like any democracy, is imperfect. It debates fiercely within itself. It includes Jews from Europe, the Middle East, North Africa, and Ethiopia. I have written extensively about the rescue of Ethiopian Jews who found refuge and citizenship there. That diversity alone undermines the simplistic caricature of Israel as a racist project.
When activists declare that Zionism is racism and deny Israel’s right to exist, they claim to be advancing justice. In reality, they are singling out the world’s only Jewish state for elimination. It is not surprising that such rhetoric often spills over into open antisemitism.
The consequences are felt far beyond Israel’s borders. Across Europe and America, Jewish communities report heightened violence and terrorism. The Netherlands is not immune. And so a necklace becomes a calculation.
Yet while I may occasionally remove a symbol, I will not silence my voice. If anything, the climate reinforces why speaking out matters.
Unity is essential. Jews and non-Jews alike must reject the normalization of antisemitism, whether it appears under the banner of anti-Zionism or any other fashionable label. This is not about suppressing legitimate criticism of Israeli policies. It is about drawing a moral line when criticism becomes demonization and when political disagreement becomes collective vilification.
One day, I hope, wearing a Star of David in Amsterdam will feel entirely unremarkable. An heirloom necklace will simply be jewelry, not a statement of defiance. Until then, even if I sometimes leave it at home, I will continue to speak publicly and unapologetically.
Because never again is not a slogan. It is a responsibility that begins in the present.
Sabine Sterk is the CEO of Time To Stand Up For Israel.
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History and Archaeological Evidence Shows Jews Were Pioneers in Learning and Education
Inside the National Library of Israel. Photo: © Herzog & de Meuron; Mann-Shinar Architects, Executive Architect.
The opening of a new building for the National Library of Israel was one of the events overshadowed by the October 7 attack on Israel.
The library, almost five million square feet of space containing five million books, did open its doors on October, 29, 2023. The impressive new building, with its state-of-the-art automated book retrieval system, is a far cry from the library’s modest beginnings in 1892.
That the library opened five years before the first Zionist Congress, and well before the establishment of the state of Israel, indicates the importance that the Jewish people place on books and literacy — and also the long connection between Jews and Israel.
In Judaism and Hellenism in Antiquity (1998), Lee I. Levine makes the point that Jews were unique in the ancient world in reading a holy text at religious services and discussing its meaning on a regular basis. (Ezra the Scribe is credited with initiating the reading of the Torah at religious services, in the fifth century BCE, after the return from exile in Babylonia [Nehemiah 8:1-8].)
That Jews are widely associated with literacy is a widespread belief. In fact, the expression “People of the Book” originated in the Koran, as a description for Jews (and Christians). But how literate were they in Biblical times? Scholars such as Meir Bar Ilan suggest that literacy in ancient Israel was low, less than 3% of the population, even as late as the first centuries CE.
After all, with the exception of priests and scribes, why would it be necessary to read and write in an agricultural society? However, recent archeological evidence signals that Jewish literacy in Biblical times was far more widespread than previously thought.
Archeological teams from Tel Aviv University used computer-based analyses to evaluate letters written by a small contingent of 20 to 30 Judean soldiers located at a military outpost at Arad, near the southern border of Judea. The letters, in Hebrew, were written in ink on ostraca (potsherds used as writing surfaces) shortly before the fall of Jerusalem to the Babylonians in 586 BCE.
Computer handwriting analysis used machine learning to digitize, segment, and extract features (for example, separation distances, angles, slopes, curves) from script to identify individuals. A professional handwriting expert also evaluated the writing on the ostraca.
The results, published in academic journals (PNAS, 2016 and Plos One, 2020), show that there were at least 12 different writers. They varied in rank, down to the equivalent of quartermaster (much of the material in the letters dealt with provisions and supplies). Clearly, the society represented by the soldiers at Arad must have included an educational infrastructure capable of ensuring widespread literacy.
In Discovering Second Temple Literature (2018) Malka Z. Simkovich, Crown-Ryan Chair of Jewish Studies at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago, provides a comprehensive view of the extensive literary output by Jewish communities during the period of the Second Temple (539 BCE to 70 CE). While she does not refer to literacy per se, the variety of material she describes, and the volume of letters written between Jews in Judea and those in the Diaspora (mainly between Jerusalem, Alexandria, and Antioch), suggests that the ability to read and write was common.
Some of the writings Simkovich refers to were found in the Cairo Geniza, a trove of more than 400,000 manuscripts, and fragments of manuscripts, discovered in the storeroom (the geniza) of the Ben Ezra Synagogue in Fustat (Old Cairo), Egypt.
Most of this collection was taken to Cambridge University in 1896 and today is being digitized. While much of this material involves the post-Temple period, manuscripts from the earlier, Second Temple period, were also common.
The geniza, a uniquely Jewish concept, is rooted in Jewish law. Any old or damaged liturgical texts or ritual objects that may include G-d’s name must not be casually discarded. The geniza is a temporary repository for such material prior to burial in consecrated ground.
The material in the Cairo Geniza was unusual in that the material stored there accumulated for a long time, between the 8th and 19th centuries. It includes secular material, such as legal contracts, accounting books, and personal letters, along with Biblical texts and rabbinical writings, making it a particularly valuable historical find. But equally important, the existence of the geniza is a reminder of the reverence for the written word that is a part of the Jewish tradition.
Jacob Sivak, a Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada, is a retired professor, University of Waterloo.
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Tucker Carlson’s Huckabee Interview: Confidence Without Comprehension
Carlson floated additional insinuations and conspiracy, including the absurd claim that the United States went to war in Iraq after September 11 because of Israel.
This trope, that Jewish or Israeli influence dragged America into war, has circulated for decades across ideological extremes.
Reducing complex American strategic decisions, Congressional votes, and post-9/11 security policy to “Israel made us do it” is not serious analysis. Yet here it was, presented as such by a former Fox News host watched by millions.
By the end of nearly three hours, a pattern had emerged.
Carlson repeatedly blurred theology into policy, questioned Jewish historical continuity, recycled war-blame insinuations, dismissed counter-evidence, and spoke authoritatively on subjects he appeared not to have mastered.
And he did so with confidence.
That is what much of the media missed.

The story was not Huckabee’s answer to a distorted Biblical question.
It was watching a prominent commentator unravel under the weight of his own thinly sourced claims.
Criticism of Israeli policy is legitimate. Debate over strategy is healthy.
But when interrogation gives way to insinuation, and skepticism morphs into selective credulity, the result is not fearless journalism.
It is confidence without comprehension.
And it was watched by nearly two million viewers in under 24 hours.
The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.
