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Judaism doesn’t want you to wander and live just anywhere — or does it?
(JTA) — I was a remote worker long before the pandemic made it a thing, but it was only last month that I really took advantage of it. Early on the morning of New Year’s Day, I boarded a plane from Connecticut bound for Mexico, where I spent a full month sleeping in thatch-roofed palapas, eating more tacos than was probably wise and bathing every day in the Pacific. I’ll spare you the glorious details, but suffice it to say, it wasn’t a bad way to spend a January.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, I found myself again and again coming into contact with expats who had traded in their urban lives in northern climes for a more laid-back life in the tropics. There was the recently divorced motorcycle enthusiast slowly wending his way southward by bike as he continued to work a design job for a major American bank. There was the yoga instructor born not far from where I live in Massachusetts who owned an open-air rooftop studio just steps from the waves. There were the countless couples who had chosen to spend their days running beachfront bars or small hotels on the sand. And then there were the seemingly endless number and variety of middle-aged northerners rebooting their lives in perpetual sunshine.
Such people have long mystified me. It’s not hard to understand the lure of beachside living, and part of me envies the freedom to design your own life from the ground up. But there’s also something scary about it. Arriving in middle age in a country where you know nobody, whose language is not your own, whose laws and cultural mores, seasons and flora, are all unfamiliar — it feels like the essence of shallow-rootedness, like a life devoid of all the things that give one (or at least me) a sense of comfort and security and place. The thought of exercising the right to live literally anywhere and any way I choose opens up a space so vast and limitless it provokes an almost vertiginous fear of disconnection and a life adrift.
Clearly, this feeling isn’t universally shared. And the fact that I have it probably owes a lot to my upbringing. I grew up in an Orthodox family, which by necessity meant life was lived in a fairly small bubble. Our house was within walking distance of our synagogue, as it had to be since walking was the only way to get there on Shabbat and holidays. I attended a small Jewish day school, where virtually all of my friends came from families with similar religious commitments. Keeping kosher and the other constraints of a religious life had a similarly narrowing effect on the horizons of my world and thus my sense of life’s possibilities. Or at least that’s how it often felt.
What must it be like — pardon the non-kosher expression — to feel as if the world is your oyster? That you could live anywhere, love anyone, eat anything and make your life whatever you want it to be? Thrilling, yes — but also frightening. The sense of boundless possibility I could feel emanating from those sun-baked Mexicans-by-choice was seductive, but tempered by aversion to a life so unmoored.
The tension between freedom and obligation is baked into Jewish life. The twin poles of our national narrative are the Exodus from Egypt and the revelation at Sinai, each commemorated by festivals separated by exactly seven weeks in the calendar, starting with Passover. The conventional understanding is that this juxtaposition isn’t accidental. God didn’t liberate the Israelites from slavery so they could live free of encumbrances on the Mayan Riviera. Freedom had a purpose, expressed in the giving of the Torah at Sinai, with all its attendant rules and restrictions and obligations. Freedom is a central value of Jewish life — Jews are commanded to remember the Exodus every day. But Jewish freedom doesn’t mean the right to live however you want.
Except it might mean the right to live any place you want. In the 25th chapter of Leviticus, God gives the Israelites the commandment of the Jubilee year, known as yovel in Hebrew. Observed every 50 years in biblical times, the Jubilee has many similarities to the shmita (sabbatical) year, but with some additional rituals. The text instructs: “And you shall hallow the 50th year. You shall proclaim liberty throughout the land for all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you: each of you shall return to your holding and each of you shall return to your family.”
Among the requirements of the Jubilee was that ancestral lands be returned to their original owners. Yet the word for liberty is a curious one: “d’ror.” The Talmud explains its etymology this way: “It is like a man who dwells [medayer] in any dwelling and moves merchandise around the entire country” (Rosh Hashanah 9b).
The liberty of the Jubilee year could thus be said to have two contrary meanings — individuals had the right to return to their ancestral lands, but they were also free not to. They could live in any dwelling they chose. The sense of liberty connoted by the biblical text is a specifically residential one: the freedom to live where one chooses. Which pretty well describes the world we live in today. Jewish ancestral lands are freely available to any Jew who wants to live there. And roughly half the Jews of the world choose not to.
Clearly, I’m among them. And while I technically could live anywhere, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to. I like where I live — not because of any particular qualities of this place, though I do love its seasons and its smells and its proximity to the people I care about and the few weeks every fall when the trees become a riotous kaleidoscope. But mostly because it’s mine.
A version of this essay appeared in My Jewish Learning’s Recharge Shabbat newsletter. Subscribe here.
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The post Judaism doesn’t want you to wander and live just anywhere — or does it? appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Saudi Warplanes Struck Militias in Iraq During War, Sources Say
F-15SA fighter jets are seen at King Faisal Air College in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Jan. 25, 2017. Photo: REUTERS/Faisal Al Nasser
Saudi fighter jets bombed targets linked to powerful Tehran-backed Shi’ite militias in Iraq during the Iran war, while retaliatory strikes were also launched from Kuwait into Iraq, multiple sources familiar with the matter said.
The strikes are part of a broader pattern of military responses around the Gulf that remained largely hidden during a conflict that began with US-Israeli attacks on Iran and has spread to the wider Middle East.
For this report, Reuters spoke to three Iraqi security and military officials, a Western official, and two people briefed on the matter, one of them in the US.
The Saudi strikes were carried out by Saudi air force fighter jets on Iran-linked militia targets near the kingdom’s northern border with Iraq, one Western official and the person briefed on the matter said. The Western official said some strikes took place around the time of the April 7 US-Iran ceasefire.
They targeted sites from which drone and missile attacks were launched at Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states, the sources said.
Citing military assessments, the Iraqi sources said rocket attacks were launched on at least two occasions from Kuwaiti territory on Iraq. One set of strikes hit militia positions in southern Iraq in April, killing several fighters and destroying a facility used by Iran-backed militia Kataib Hezbollah for communications and drone operations, they said.
Reuters could not determine whether the rockets from Kuwait were fired by the Kuwaiti armed forces or the US military, which has a large presence there. The US military declined to comment. The Kuwaiti information ministry and the Iraqi government did not immediately respond to requests for comment.
SAUDI ARABIA ALSO HIT IRAN
A Saudi foreign ministry official said Saudi Arabia sought de-escalation, self-restraint and the “reduction of tensions in pursuit of the stability, security, and prosperity of the region,” but did not address the issue of strikes on Iraq. A spokesperson for Iraq’s Kataib Hezbollah also did not immediately respond to a request for comment.
On Tuesday, Reuters reported that Saudi Arabia launched strikes directly on Iran during the war in retaliation for attacks on the kingdom, the first time Riyadh is known to have hit Iranian soil. The UAE also carried out similar strikes on Iran, three people familiar with the matter said.
But hundreds of the drones that targeted the Gulf emanated from Iraq, all the sources said.
Militia-linked Telegram channels repeatedly posted statements during the war claiming attacks on targets in Gulf states, including Saudi Arabia and Kuwait. Reuters could not independently confirm their authenticity.
Sustained attacks from a second front in Iraq prompted Saudi Arabia and Kuwait to lose patience with the militias, which collectively command tens of thousands of fighters and arsenals including missiles and drones.
Kuwait summoned Iraq’s representative in the country three times during the war to protest cross-border attacks, as well as the storming of the Kuwaiti consulate in the city of Basra on April 7. Saudi Arabia also summoned Iraq’s ambassador on April 12 to protest attacks.
IRAQ-GULF TIES DEFINED BY SUSPICION
Gulf Arab relations with Iraq have long been defined by suspicion. Ties were severely damaged in 1990 when Iraqi President Saddam Hussein’s forces invaded Kuwait and fired Scud missiles at Saudi Arabia, and they remained strained for decades.
The 2003 US-led invasion of Iraq deepened Gulf concerns by empowering Shi’ite political factions and armed groups closely tied to Tehran, turning Iraq into a key node in Iran’s regional network of proxies.
Gulf states have repeatedly accused Baghdad of failing to rein in those groups, which operate with significant autonomy and have launched attacks across borders.
A China-brokered détente between Iran and Saudi Arabia in 2023 had offered hope for broader regional stabilization. But the outbreak of war has severely tested those gains, drawing Gulf states into a conflict they had sought to avoid and exposing the limits of diplomatic progress made in recent years.
In March, Saudi Arabia and Kuwait had warned Baghdad via diplomatic channels to curb rocket and drone attacks by pro-Iranian groups against Gulf states, according to two Iraqi security officials and a government security adviser.
Iraqi forces say they intercepted some attempted attacks, including the seizure of a rocket launcher west of Basra intended to strike Saudi energy facilities.
But Iran-backed militias continue to fly surveillance drones along Iraq’s borders with Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, conducting reconnaissance and feeding intelligence to Iran, according to four Iraqi security sources and a person briefed on the matter.
“They are gathering information on what has been damaged, what is still working. They are preparing for the next strike,” the person briefed on the matter said.
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Swiss Considering Rival Air Defenses After Washington Delays Patriots Over Iran War
US Patriot missile defense systems at a US army base in Pyeongtaek, South Korea, March 10, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Kim Hong-Ji
Switzerland said on Wednesday it will look into whether to buy air-defense systems from other suppliers, after the United States informed it that long-delayed Patriot missile systems will be held up further because of the war in Iran.
Switzerland ordered the five Patriot missile-defense systems in 2022 with an initial expectation they would be supplied in 2026-2028, a timeline that has already slipped by four to five years because of the war in Ukraine.
The government said it had now been told by Washington that the Iran war would lead to additional delays and cost increases, with a delay of five to seven years now to be expected.
“All options would lead to delivery delays as well as substantial additional costs,” the government said.
Switzerland expects to receive feedback by the end of the month from five additional suppliers of long-range ground-based air-defense systems, the government said. It did not identify the suppliers but said they came from Germany, France, Israel, and South Korea. It said it would prefer if the systems were produced in Europe.
The governing Federal Council is expected to decide on next steps in the coming months, the statement added.
The Swiss government said in April that terminating the Patriot purchase was an option.
The price for the five Patriot systems could double from 2.3 billion Swiss francs ($2.9 billion) to 4.6 billion francs, Swiss newspaper Tages-Anzeiger said, citing informed sources.
Swiss procurement agency armasuisse and the Pentagon did not immediately reply to requests for comment on the report.
Reuters reported last month that the US had informed European counterparts of likely delays in previously contracted weapons deliveries, as the Iran war continues to draw on weapons stocks.
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All American Jews should acknowledge Nakba Day — for Israel’s sake, and Palestine’s
Many American Jews were raised with the word “Nakba” absent from our vocabularies.
We were taught, correctly, about the miracle of Israel’s founding; the refuge Israel provided after the Holocaust; and the flourishing of Jewish life in our ancestral homeland. What went unmentioned was the other side of that joy: the Nakba, meaning “catastrophe” in Arabic, the name by which the displacement and dispossession of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians during the creation of the state of Israel is known through the Arab world.
For Palestinians, the Nakba is the defining experience of their collective life — carried in family histories, in refugee camps and in the enduring statelessness of millions. It is living memory, not ancient history. The remarkable story of Israel’s creation is real, essential and worth celebrating. But it’s time that all Jews — Zionists alongside anti-Zionists — acknowledge that it was never the only story.
Acknowledging Nakba Day — an annual commemoration on May 15 — can feel uncomfortable, even threatening. There is a fear within much of the Jewish community that recognizing Palestinian loss will in some way undermine Jewish claims to self-determination, or feed efforts to delegitimize Israel.
I understand that fear. I lead a Jewish organization with Zionist roots; I feel this tension in my daily work and life. But I also believe this fear is misguided.
When we deny or minimize the full history of 1948, we deny not just the humanity and pain of the Palestinian people, but also our own honest understanding of today’s reality. For Jewish leaders struggling to understand why younger American Jews won’t simply follow their lead when it comes to support for Israel, this is part of the answer.
When we avoid learning and teaching about the Nakba, we do not make Palestinian loss disappear. Rather, we simply reinforce the perception that we are unwilling to confront this essential part of Israel’s story.
And when we expand our historical understanding we do not weaken our connection to Israel, or that of our children. On the contrary, we strengthen it. A relationship built on selective memory is fragile and incomplete. One grounded in truth — even uncomfortable truth — is far more honest and resilient.
The best reasons to commemorate Nakba Day are the moral mandate to recognize the truth, the value of opening a door to allow for transformational relationships.
Two truths can coexist. It is true the establishment of Israel was a moment of profound liberation for the Jewish people, and it is equally true that it was a moment of profound loss for Palestinians. Holding both facts is not easy. To do so challenges the binary narratives many of us were raised with. But maturity — personal and communal — requires sitting with complexity rather than retreating from it.
Embracing that complexity carries real world implications.
The dismissal of Palestinian grievances is already harming Israel, degrading security and imperiling the country’s future as an integral part of the Middle East. That rejection salts the soil in which deep relationships between Israeli Jews and their Arab neighbors might otherwise take root.
Durable peace will not come from either side insisting that their narrative is the only legitimate one. It will come — if it comes at all — from mutual recognition of history, suffering and shared humanity.
For Jews and Jewish organizations to acknowledge Nakba Day can be one small step in that direction. Doing so would signal a willingness to listen, learn and take Palestinian perspectives seriously. That is an expression of respect that any shared future requires.
To American Jews who find this proposal uncomfortable: It is time for some courage. The easy path is silence. That silence will bring us more isolation, and hamper our capacity to foster relationships grounded in trust with Palestinians. The harder path is to expand our understanding, starting with a more complete and honest account of the past.
Jewish tradition gives us a framework for exactly this kind of engagement.. We regularly recount our own moments of vulnerability, exile and moral failure. We imagine ourselves as slaves departing Egypt and remind ourselves of the ethical obligations that follow. Applying that same ethic in the present day does not betray our story. It honors it.
Commemorating Nakba Day recognizes that the past shapes the present. It embraces intellectual and moral honesty. It affirms that Palestinian lives and histories matter and must coexist alongside Jewish lives and history.
In a time of deep polarization — within the Jewish community, between Israelis and Palestinians, and across American society — the temptation is to retreat into camps, to draw sharper lines and to insist on simpler stories. Giving in to that temptation will not lead us to a future of peace, justice, and mutual dignity.
Instead, we need to complicate our narratives. We need to listen more than we speak. And we need to find ways to honor the humanity of those whose experiences do not mirror our own. Recognizing Nakba Day on May 15 is a good place to start.
The post All American Jews should acknowledge Nakba Day — for Israel’s sake, and Palestine’s appeared first on The Forward.