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King David gets the kiddie treatment
The figure of David is most often imagined nude, and for some people that’s a problem.
Michelangelo’s statue was once made to don a fig leaf in exhibition replicas. As recently as 2023, a school principal in Tallahassee, Florida resigned after parents complained that an image of the marble used in a lesson on Renaissance art was pornographic. (Interestingly, no one is calling for a redacted edition of the Bible, where David is an unabashed adulterer who dances naked before the lord.)
David, like Odysseus, was a man of twists and turns, and that’s what makes him so compelling. Yet there has always been a temptation to contort him into a tidier package, PG and legible to youth. In Hebrew school — and, I imagine, Christian Sunday schools — we hear of his underdog exploits with Goliath. We rarely hear what happens next.
As novelist Geraldine Brooks observed in her book The Secret Chord, David was “the first man in literature whose story is told in detail from early childhood to extreme old age.” It is also a singularly strange story to adapt for children beyond that initial showdown with a Philistine with a pituitary disorder — the rest of David’s story is rife with sex and violence.
Even so, Angel Pictures, the up-and-coming, largely faith-based production house behind The Sound of Freedom (a fear-mongering pageant about human trafficking) and The King of Kings (about you know who) endeavored to put this narrative to film, following a “prequel” series, called Young David. The resulting animated musical David punches above its weight in production value with meticulous filaments of CGI hair and charismatic character design. If you’re looking for biblical fidelity, it mostly follows the text, but in making it family friendly — and perhaps to point in the direction of a certain legacy sequel — it slaps a narrative fig leaf over the interesting bits. Somehow, like so many neutered renditions of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” it makes David boring.
Why target this one to kids? David is introduced as a shepherd boy with a sling, making him ripe for a young audience, at least if you skip the part where he decapitates Goliath and carries his head around as a trophy, which this film does. Most children’s media about him emphasizes those salad days heroics or his side hustle as a psalmist.
But the boy will go on, soon after he reaches his age of majority, to procure 200 Philistine foreskins in battle as a bride price. In exile from Saul, we’re told that, when he raided a region, “he would leave no man or woman alive.” At Hebron, he rewards the eager assassins of his rival by relieving them of their hands and feet.
What about this demands the Dreamworks treatment? The aforementioned prequel kiddie show, with its humble pastoral lessons, had to lead to something, I suppose, and here it’s a musical time jump with a new character model and older voice actor. The ads invite us to “watch how a boy becomes a man,” and, more saliently, to do the watching “this Christmas.”
To Christians, David is a sort of Old Testament flashing arrow pointing to Christ. “Christ” means anointed one; David, as we see in the film’s opening moments, after he saves a whelping lamb from a lion, had a horn of oil poured over him by Samuel. Jesus, a metaphorical shepherd, is sometimes called the Son of David.
As scholars of Christianity like Elaine Pagels have noted, the genealogy laid out by Matthew and Luke connects Jesus to David as a way of fulfilling messianic prophecies in Isaiah. This is then, a stealth Christmas story or almost a Jesus prequel, kind of a biblical Phantom Menace, with the added benefit of capturing a Jewish audience that goes out to the movies on Christmas and may be looking for family fare. Catholic comedian Kevin James has promoted it, as has Michael Rappaport.
The story, buoyed by boilerplate praise pop that sings of running towards adventure and “following the light,” tracks the moment David is selected as the future king up to his coronation, stopping before his uniting of the kingdoms in a new capital and his late vocation as a rooftop voyeur with major character flaws.
This David — auburn-haired and American-accented, while all other characters sound vaguely Israeli — is instantly likable, and unbearably insipid, “a man after God’s own heart.” The film had a rabbi advisor — one whose focus is on “ministering to Christians” — and that brings a veneer of Jewish authenticity. Samuel sings some of Psalm 118 in Hebrew as he anoints David (an odd choice given that David is the traditionally-credited author). Production notes boast of paleo Hebrew text appearing throughout and identify some of the songwriters as “Jewish believers in Jesus.” There are wolf motifs littering in the palace of Saul, whose tribe’s founder was likened to a ravenous wolf. Despite these trappings, the project feels derived from a familiar Christian impulse, and errs by taking David’s story beyond the Valley of Elah, where our hero still had a semblance of innocence.
The infancy narrative of Jesus may work for young people around Christmas time, sparing them the gory details of the crucifixion. But beyond a point, David’s early life can’t be so neatly detached from what follows, as the rest of the Bible, even the Christian parts, relies on it. It is hard to imagine this David — pure, faithful, a good shepherd who is reluctant to lead and ostensibly asexual — conquering Jerusalem. It’s harder still to imagine him having his way with Bathsheba (in what many now regard as rape), sending her husband to his death and losing several children as God’s punishment for these transgressions.
None of these events are the film’s concern, but without those pivotal plot points, we don’t have the Temple or the king — Solomon, born of Bathsheba — to build it. Without a temple in Jerusalem, there’s no backdrop for the Passion the film’s hinting at to play against.
The screenplay, by directors Brent Dawes and Phil Cunningham, seems to be optimizing for action — Cunningham described David’s journey as “packed with adventure, with music, with fun” — while staying too squeamish to mount a proper battle scene. There’s the intrigue of Saul’s court, and the thread of dramatic irony, as the old king confides in David about his fear of God’s appointed successor, not knowing it’s him. We see David dash into exile in the wilderness, but we don’t witness his raids or any other mischief, only a crisis of faith. We get a glimpse of the mincing Philistine king Achish (we know he’s evil because of his eyeshadow and earrings) and the skull-laden Amalekites who raze David’s outpost at Ziklag and take his followers captive. (Saul’s failure with the Amalekites is appropriately sanitized — he fell short by letting them escape, not in sparing Agag’s life and keeping his best livestock. If God ordered their genocide, as he does in the source material, we don’t hear about it.)
In case there was any doubt, after David’s mom — here a speaking character — praises God as “the way and the light,” there’s a specific endgame in mind that necessitates our hero be presented as older and on his way to kingship.
To drive the point home, in an invention of the film, the Amalekites hoist David onto a tree to kill him while his mother weeps at his feet. This isn’t some first chapter of David’s rule but the foreshadowing of Jesus’ reign, and you can’t exactly crucify the little shepherd boy with the lyre. (Spoiler: He lives.)
While not to my taste, this would be forgivable if the film, however handsomely animated, didn’t fall into the same old timeworn tropes that even kids are surely bored of now: the precocious younger sister, the fat brother gorging on dates, the upstart Israelite army with vases for helmets who gulp, “Yup, we’re dead,” upon seeing the well-equipped Philistines and their six-cubit champion.
Worse still, the film calls to mind other, better ones, appropriate for children but nowhere near as condescending.
A standout number has David’s mother singing about the world as a tapestry (Carole King she ain’t) and “the view that heaven sees,” essentially a rip off of Prince of Egypt’s “Through Heaven’s Eyes.” You may also cringe at the line “like the way we work the loom, he knit you from inside the womb,” seemingly a play on Jeremiah 1:5, often used by Christians to justify pro-life positions.
David deserves better, but the good news is there’s competition. Amazon’s House of David, now in its second season, goes deep on the dynamics of Judah and Israel, often employing midrash to add texture to the intrigue, and it was reported in 2022 that Leviathan Productions, an outfit focused on Jewish stories, had optioned Brooks’ excellent The Secret Chord.
That shepherd boy from Bethlehem became a giant himself — and we will never stop singing his psalms or wrestling with his complicated, at times cancel-worthy, story. Angel Studios’ David may still challenge Goliath, just not the audience.
The post King David gets the kiddie treatment appeared first on The Forward.
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Rabbinical texts reveal surprising links between Yiddish and Ladino
דער דײַטשישער וויסנשאַפֿטלעכער פֿאַרלאַג De Gruyter האָט לעצטנס אַרויסגעגעבן אַ באַנד פֿאָרשונגען וועגן רבנישע כּתבֿים אויף ייִדיש און לאַדינאָ, רעדאַקטירט דורך קאַטיאַ שמיד (מאַדריד), דוד בוניס (ירושלים) און חוה טורניאַנסקי (ירושלים). די עלעקטראָנישע ווערסיע פֿונעם בוך איז צוטריטלעך צו אַלעמען, פֿרײַ פֿון אָפּצאָל.
אויף ייִדיש זענען פֿאַראַן צוויי ווערטער, וואָס באַצייכענען דעם אונטערשייד צווישן הייליקע ספֿרים און וועלטלעכע ביכער. דער חילוק איז אָבער נישט אַלעמאָל קלאָר. אַ פֿילאָסאָפֿיש, מעדיציניש צי פֿילאָלאָגיש ווערק אויף לשון־קודש אָדער לשון־תּרגום איז גיכער אַ ספֿר, און אַ הלכה־חיבור אויף ייִדיש קאָן מען אָנרופֿן אַ „בוך‟, ווײַל ייִדיש ווערט, בדרך־כּלל, אַסאָציִיִרט מיט דער וועלטלעכער זײַט פֿון דער ייִדישער קולטור, און די סעמיטישע שפּראַכן – לשון־קודש און אַראַמיש – מיט פֿרומקייט.
אויף לאַדינאָ אָדער דזשודעזמאָ איז אַזאַ אונטערשייד נישטאָ, נאָר די ייִדישע אינערלעכע צוויי־שפּראַכיקייט איז בנימצא; די נאַטירלעכע ספֿרים־שפּראַך איז לשון־קודש. אַמאָל האָבן די ספֿרדים אין דער מיטל־עלטערלעכער מוסולמענישער שפּאַניע אָבער געשריבן גאָר ערנסטע רבנישע ספֿרים דווקא אויף אַראַביש.
אינעם נײַעם בוך איז אַרײַן אַבריאל בר־לבֿבֿס אַרטיקל וועגן דער אַשכּנזישער טאָפּל־שפּראַכיקער קולטור. דער פֿאָרשער ווײַזט, אַז די אַלטע ספֿרים אויף אַראַביש האָבן משפּיע געווען אויף הרבֿ משה פֿראַנקפֿורט; ווי באַלד די הייליקסטע ייִדישע טעקסטן, אַרײַנגערעכנט די גרמא און דעם זוהר, זענען אָנגעשריבן אויף אַן אומגאַנג־שפּראַך, אַראַמיש, קאָן מען ממילא שרײַבן ערנסטע ספֿרים אויף ייִדיש. אַזוי האָט אויך געטאָן זײַן טאַטע, הרבֿ שמעון פֿראַנקפֿורט.
אין אַן אַנדער אַרטיקל וועגן דער אַשכּנזישער און ספֿרדישער שפּראַך־פֿילאָסאָפֿיע פֿונעם 19טן יאָרהונדערט ווײַזט מיכאל זילבער, אַז הרבֿ עקיבֿא־יוסף שלעזינגער (1837 – 1922) האָט אויסגענוצט דעם זעלבן אַרגומענט לטובֿת ייִדיש ווי אַ נאַציאָנאַלע ייִדישע שפּראַך אין זײַן ספֿר „לבֿ העבֿרי‟ – לאַנג פֿאַר דער טשערנאָוויצער קאָנפֿערענץ.
אין דער עסטרײַך־אונגערישער אימפּעריע האָבן געוווינט סײַ אַשכּנזים, טיילווײַז דײַטשיש־ און אונגעריש־רעדנדיקע, סײַ לאַדינאָ־שפּראַכיקע ספֿרדים. אַ וויכטיקער צענטער פֿון זייער צונויפֿטרעפֿונג איז געווען ווין. די טראַדיציאָנאַליסטן אין ביידע עדות האָבן געהאַלטן, אַז ייִדן מוזן אָפּהיטן זייער גערעדט לשון; דאָס האָט אויך געשטימט מיטן גײַסט פֿונעם אונגערישן נאַציאָנאַליזם. אין זײַן ספֿר „מעשׂה אָבֿות‟ ברענגט הרבֿ שלעזינגער בײַשפּילן פֿון מיזרחדיקע ייִדן, וועלכע האָבן באַטראַכט זייער ייִדיש־שפּאַניש (לאַדינאָ) און ייִדיש־אַראַביש ווי טראַדיציאָנעלע הייליקע מאַמע־לשונות.
צו דער גאָר אינטערעסאַנטער אינפֿאָרמאַציע קען איך צוגעבן דעם בײַשפּיל פֿונעם מונקאַטשער רבין חיים־אלעזר שפּירא (1868 – 1937). אין זײַן רוף צו רעדן דווקא אויף ייִדיש האָט ער אויך באַטאָנט, אַז די ווינער ספֿרדים דאַרפֿן ווײַטער רעדן אויף זייער אייגן לשון. כ׳האָב געשריבן וועגן דעם אינעם פֿאָרווערטס.
משה טאַובע באַהאַנדלט די אינטערעסאַנטע קשיא: צי קען מען אָננעמען די אַלט־ייִדישע גבֿיות־עדותן אויף ייִדיש ווי אויטענטישע מוסטערן פֿון דער גערעדטער שפּראַך? למשל, הרבֿ בנימין פֿון סלאָניק, פּוילן, האָט אינעם יאָר 1605 ציטירט אָט אַזאַ גבֿית־עדות: „איך אונ׳ איין וועלשער יהודי זיין גיזעסין צו יאס אין דער וואלח״יי אונ איז גיוועזין בייא אונז איין יהודי פון לעלוב ושמו היה אייזיק גלעזער, ער האט גערביט חמאה וגבינה‟. אויפֿן הײַנטיקן ייִדיש מיינט עס: „איך און איינער אַ רומענישער ייִד האָבן געוווינט אין יאַס, רומעניע, און בײַ אונדז איז געווען אַ ייִד פֿון לעלעוו, וועלכער האָט געהייסט אײַזיק גלעזער; זײַן מלאָכה איז געווען פֿוטער און קעז.‟ צי האָט יענער ייִד טאַקע גערעדט ממש אַזוי, מיט גאַנצע לשון־קודשדיקע אויסדרוקן, אָדער האָט דער בית־דין זיי אַרײַנגעשריבן? זיכער האָט יענער עדות געזאָגט „אַ ייִד‟, נישט „איין יהודי‟.
אינעם בוך דערציילט קלאַודיאַ ראָזענצווײַג אַן אַנדער מעשׂה וועגן דעם זעלבן פּוילישן רבֿ, בנימין סלאָניק. זײַן פּאָפּולער ייִדיש הלכה־ספֿר פֿאַר פֿרויען, „סדר מצות לנשים‟, איז אַרויס אינעם יאָר 1577 אין קראָקע און דערנאָך אין עטלעכע אַנדערע שטעט. דער איטאַליענישער רבֿ יעקבֿ היילפּרון האָט עס איבערגעזעצט אויף ייִדיש־איטאַליעניש און אַרויסגעגעבן אין 1616 אין ווענעציע. היילפּרון איז געווען אַ מחבר פֿון ייִדישע ספֿרים, אַרײַנגערעכנט אַ געגראַמטע איבערזעצונג פֿון שלמה אבן גבֿירולס מיסטישער פּאָעמע „כתר מלכות‟. אבן גבֿירולס היימישע שמועס־שפּראַך איז געווען אַראַביש – נאָך אַ בײַשפּיל פֿון אַשכּנזיש־ספֿרדישע פֿאַרבינדונגען. אַגבֿ, אינעם ייִדישן דיאַלעקט פֿון איטאַליעניש איז אויך פֿאַראַן דאָס וואָרט „ספֿר‟.
בנימין הוניאַדיס פֿאָרשונג איז אויך געווידמעט דעם פֿריִער דערמאָנטן הרבֿ עקיבֿא שלעזינדער. ס׳רובֿ אַנדערע אַרטיקלען זענען געווידמעט דער רבנישער ליטעראַטור אויף לאַדינאָ. ייִדיש ווערט דאָרט עטלעכע מאָל דערמאָנט, אָבער נישט צו אָפֿט. צום בײַשפּיל, ד״ר אַנאַבעלאַ עספּעראַנצאַ פֿאַרגלײַכט די תּחינות און חסידישע ניגונים מיט די ספֿרדישע „קאָפּלאַס‟ אָדער „קאָמפּלאַס‟ – פֿרומע לאַדינאָ־לידער.
ווי עס זעט אויס, איז דאָס פֿיל־קולטורעלע עסטרײַך־אונגערן געווען די וויכטיקסטע קאָנטאַקט־זאָנע צווישן די אַשכּנזים און ספֿרדים. אויף דעם שפּראַכלעכן באַוווּסטזײַן פֿון ביידע ייִדישע גרופּעס האָבן משפּיע געווען די נאַציאָנאַלע באַוועגונגען פֿון אַנדערע באַלקאַנישע און מיזרח־אייראָפּעיִשע פֿעלקער. דאָס נײַע בוך איז אַ וויכטיקער, אינפֿאָרמאַטיווער שטאַפּל אין פֿאַרגלײַך־פֿאָרשונגען פֿון ביידע לשונות, ווי אויך אין דער אַלגעמיינער ייִדישער געשיכטע פֿון „היימישע‟ עסטרײַך־אונגערישע מקומות און צענטראַל־אייראָפּע בכלל.
The post Rabbinical texts reveal surprising links between Yiddish and Ladino appeared first on The Forward.
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Why Poland’s president canceled his menorah lighting — and how the West helped make that happen
As we grapple with the horrific massacre of Jews celebrating Hanukkah in Bondi Beach, Australia, another assault on a Jewish holiday tradition is occurring halfway across the world. It’s not violent, thankfully, but it sure is ominous.
This Hanukkah, the night is darker over Warsaw.
For the past decade, each December, a menorah burned in Poland’s presidential palace. It was a gesture of tolerance and interfaith friendship as well as a token of recognition for the five million Jews killed in Poland during the Holocaust.
But this Hanukkah, the candles remained unlit as Karol Nawrocki, the country’s new president, fulfilled a key campaign promise: end the menorah lighting. “I take my attachment to Christian values seriously, so I celebrate holidays that are close to me as a person,” he said.
“I take my attachment to Christian values seriously, so I celebrate holidays that are close to me as a person,” Nawrocki said, when explaining why he wouldn’t continue the tradition, a move seen as pandering to the country’s far right.
It’s never a good sign when a European leader rides to power by turning his back on Judaism. Unfortunately, Nawrocki’s decision is only the latest in a series of disturbing events. Last month, his political ally delivered a speech at the gates of Auschwitz, proclaiming “Poland is for Poles, not Jews.” Meanwhile, this July, plaques blaming murdered Jews for their fate were erected at the site of an infamous 1941 massacre.
It’s an astonishing turnaround for a country that only a few years ago was extolled as a paragon of Holocaust remembrance, but it didn’t come from nowhere. Indeed, it’s what happens when the West ignores warning signs of antisemitism in an ally.
Nawrocki became president this summer after beating a pro-EU opponent in a tight election. His candidacy alone raised alarm bells. A historian by trade, Nawrocki had supported legislation whitewashing the fact that some Poles killed Jews in the Holocaust; he also denounced respected scholars who brought up Poland’s dark past as purveyors of “disgusting attacks” on the country’s reputation.
Then came Nawrocki’s decision to ally himself with Grzergorz Braun, an openly antisemitic member of the European Parliament who’d accused Jews of controlling Poland and conducting ritual sacrifices of Christians. In 2023, Braun physically extinguished a menorah in the Polish parliament, proclaiming the sacred Jewish ceremony a “Satanic cult.”
In order to triumph in the extraordinarily close presidential election (the final vote was decided by less than two percentage points) Nawrocki courted Braun, turning the antisemitic firebrand into a kingmaker. In order to prove his bona fides to Braun’s supporters, Nawrocki said he would end the annual presidential menorah lightings.
Last month, several prominent figures including Poland’s justice minister decried Braun’s diatribe at Auschwitz. Nawrocki, however, has remained notably silent.
Western silence enabled this
How could such disquieting developments occur, especially in an EU and NATO member? Part of the reason has to do with a crucial mistake made by Israel and international Jewish groups.
In January 2018, Poland’s parliament passed a law making it a crime to accuse Poles of complicity in the Holocaust. This salvo against Holocaust remembrance triggered condemnations from the US State Department, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, and Jewish organizations.
A few months later, Warsaw softened the law by making it a civil offense, reducing the penalty from imprisonment to a fine.
Netanyahu, eager to restore relations with Poland, touted the downgraded law as a victory; several Jewish groups joined him.
But the legislation itself, not the penalty, was the problem. Whether criminal or civil, Warsaw was still institutionalizing Holocaust revisionism, arming itself with a mechanism to persecute those who challenged its narrative.
The West essentially acquiesced to government-sponsored Holocaust distortion, as long as it didn’t carry prison time. Yehuda Bauer of Israel’s central Holocaust museum succinctly described this capitulation as a “betrayal.”
Is it any wonder Nawrocki felt emboldened to get in bed with an overt Holocaust denier, pledged to end menorah lightings, and had chosen to say nothing in response to Braun’s chilling anti-Jewish tirade two weeks ago? If we in the West stay silent, why shouldn’t he?
A menorah is merely a symbol, of course, but given the explosion of antisemitism across Europe, even a symbolic light would be welcome.
“To discontinue the tradition of lighting the Hanukkah candles by the President would meant to give in to the demands of antisemites and more broadly, to further undermine the respect for minorities in Polish society,” Rafal Pankowski, Warsaw-based political scientist and head of the “Never Again” anti-hate organization told me.
There are still a few nights left in Hanukkah – perhaps there’s still time for Western leaders to ask Nawrocki to dispel the darkness. We could sure use it.
The post Why Poland’s president canceled his menorah lighting — and how the West helped make that happen appeared first on The Forward.
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Saudi, French, US Officials Push Hezbollah Disarmament Plan
Lebanese army members stand on a military vehicle during a Lebanese army media tour, to review the army’s operations in the southern Litani sector, in Alma Al-Shaab, near the border with Israel, southern Lebanon, Nov. 28, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Aziz Taher
French, Saudi Arabian, and American officials held talks with the head of the Lebanese army on Thursday in Paris aimed at finalizing a roadmap to enable a mechanism for the disarmament of the Hezbollah terrorist group, diplomats said.
Israel and Lebanon agreed to a US-brokered ceasefire in 2024, ending more than a year of fighting between Israel and Hezbollah that severely weakened the Iran-backed terrorists.
Since then, the sides have traded accusations over violations with Israel questioning the Lebanese army’s efforts to disarm Hezbollah. Israeli warplanes have increasingly targeted Hezbollah in southern Lebanon and even in the capital.
Speaking after the meeting, France’s foreign ministry spokesperson Pascal Confavreux said the talks had agreed to document seriously with evidence the Lebanese army’s efforts to disarm Hezbollah as well as strengthening the existing ceasefire mechanism.
CEASEFIRE AT RISK
With growing fear the ceasefire could unravel, the Paris meeting aimed to create more robust conditions to identify, support, and verify the disarmament process and dissuade Israel from escalation, four European and Lebanese diplomats and officials told Reuters.
With legislative elections due in Lebanon in 2026, there are fears political paralysis and party politics will further fuel instability and make President Joseph Aoun less likely to press disarmament, the diplomats and officials said.
“The situation is extremely precarious, full of contradictions and it won’t take much to light the powder keg,” said one senior official speaking on condition of anonymity.
“Aoun doesn’t want to make the disarming process too public because he fears it will antagonize and provoke tensions with the Shi’ite community in the south of the country.”
With the Lebanese army lacking capacity to disarm Hezbollah, the idea would be to reinforce the existing ceasefire mechanism with French, US, and possibly other military experts along with UN peacekeeping forces, the diplomats and officials said.
The parties agreed to hold a conference in February to reinforce the Lebanese army, Confavreux said.
ISRAELI STRIKES
As officials convened for the talks, multiple Israeli strikes hit towns in southern Lebanon and areas of the Bekaa Valley on Thursday, Lebanon’s state news agency NNA reported.
The Israeli military said it struck Hezbollah targets across several areas, including a military compound used for training, weapons storage, and artillery launches, saying the activity violated understandings between Israel and Lebanon and posed a threat to Israel. It also said it struck a Hezbollah militant in the area of Taybeh in southern Lebanon.
Commenting on the attacks, parliament speaker and Hezbollah-allied Amal Movement leader Nabih Berri said the strikes were an “Israeli message” to the Paris conference, NNA added.