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Rabbis Angela Buchdahl and Elliot Cosgrove show the split in the pulpit over political endorsements
(JTA) — Go figure: A non-Jewish, non-Zionist politician has sparked a national Jewish conversation about the role of the rabbi.
If elected next week, the 34-year-old progressive Zohran Mamdani would be the first mayor of New York City who came up through the trenches of pro-Palestinian activism, and the first to reject the idea that being mayor to a city with 1 million Jews means being a supporter of Israel.
The prospect has shaken a Jewish mainstream that has long taken that support for granted, considers Zionism a pillar of its Jewish identity and sees Mamdani as an enabler of the kind of strident anti-Israel protests that make them feel unsafe.
In turn, that has put pressure on rabbis throughout the five boroughs and beyond to take a stand — not just by defending Zionism and Jewish security but by denouncing Mamdani and endorsing his rivals. With the IRS in July having lifted the 60+-year-old ban that prevented houses of worship from endorsing or opposing candidates, rabbis who would prefer to stay above the fray have lost their cover.
Also gone are the days when the decision to use the bimah as a bully pulpit was between a rabbi and his or her congregation. Non-Orthodox synagogues regularly post their rabbis’ Shabbat sermons to YouTube. A petition signed by over 1,100 rabbis calling on voters to reject anti-Zionist candidates like Mamdani has become a very public roll call of rabbis who are willing to engage directly in electoral politics.
The inescapably public profile of being a rabbi amid a high-stakes election was seen in the contrasting positions taken by leaders of two influential and prosperous Manhattan congregations. In a sermon shared on YouTube and the synagogue’s web site, Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove of Park Avenue Synagogue made his position clear from his very first sentence: “I believe Zohran Mamdani poses a danger to the security of New York’s Jewish community.” He not only urged members of his Conservative shul to vote for Mamdani’s leading rival, former New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo, but laid out a specific strategy for convincing undecided and Mamdani-curious Jewish voters to do the same.
About 30 blocks south, Rabbi Angela Buchdahl of Central Synagogue, whose recent sermon on the Gaza war drew over 120,000 views on YouTube, wrote a letter to her Reform congregation about the mayoral race. Without naming Mamdani, she insisted that elected leaders “must reject the idea that Jewish self-determination is up for negotiation,” while reaffirming her synagogue’s policy “of not endorsing or publicly opposing political candidates.”
Some might find that coy — a rabbinic version of the New York Times’ controversial “non-endorsement” endorsement of Cuomo. But Buchdahl has become one of the country’s best-known rabbis in part on her ability to articulate Jewish concerns in a way that embraces and respects those who might disagree with her. Her Gaza sermon deftly conveyed Jewish dismay over the scale of the killings and hunger in Gaza while sympathizing with the fears and dilemmas of average Israelis.
The letter makes clear where she and her team stand on Zionism and fighting antisemitism: “We have spoken from the pulpit in multiple past sermons and will continue to take a clear, unambiguous position on antisemitism, on anti-Zionist rhetoric, and on sharing our deep support for Israel.” Mamdani was unmistakably the subject when she added, “I hope and expect anyone who becomes mayor of our amazing city — home to the largest Jewish population outside of Israel — will take very seriously the expressed concerns (made directly and publicly) of so many of us in the Jewish community.”
She also explains why the synagogue considers nonpartisanship a practical and spiritual value. “It remains our conviction that political endorsements of candidates are not in the best interest of our congregation, community, or country,” she writes, adding, “Our role is not to enter political campaigns or to endorse or speak out against candidates, but to provide moral and spiritual clarity on important public issues.”
Cosgrove doesn’t explicitly address the debate over whether a rabbi should endorse a political candidate, but writes that the stakes of the mayoral race are too high for him not to weigh in on the candidates.
“I wish it were otherwise,” he said. “I wish we had two candidates with equal interest, or better yet, equal disinterest in the Jewish community…. But this election cycle, that is simply not the case. We can only play the cards we are dealt. And in this hand, I choose to play the one that safeguards the Jewish people, protects our community, and ensures that our seat at the table remains secure.”
He also defends his public political stand in spiritual terms.
“Self-preservation and self-interest are not only legitimate, but essential to sustaining an ethical life,” he said, citing the Talmudic sage Hillel.
While both rabbis have ranged widely in their sermons and activism, their messages on the mayor’s race offer two different models for leadership. Cosgrove spoke in the voice of a political strategist and community organizer; Buchdahl’s letter was about protecting the integrity of her institution and the diverse individuals it serves.
By dint of their influential congregations, media savvy and charisma, Cosgrove and Buchdahl are rabbis with citywide and, especially in Buchdahl’s case, national stature. The rabbis’ petition quoted Cosgrove, although he did not sign it; Buchdahl recently promoted her memoir about growing up Korean-American, and her unasked for role as a hostage negotiator, on CBS Mornings. Their positions have weight in a debate that has dogged rabbis ever since the pulpit became a place not just for parsing fine points of Jewish law or offering homilies, but commenting on current events.
A frequently cited role model for activist rabbis is Joachim Prinz, the German refugee who led congregations in Newark, New Jersey and its suburbs in the last century. Even before leaving Germany he would rail against the Nazis. In America, he bucked the clear isolationist trend — and fear among many Jews of a backlash — by insisting that Europe’s fight was America’s fight.
Prinz rejected the traditional model of the drash, or homily, finding it “too solemn and lacking in concrete meaning. I was always out to find something relevant to the life of the people sitting in front of me.” He wondered how seriously people would take a faith tradition whose clergy couldn’t offer guidance on, say, waging war, addressing poverty or resisting authoritarianism.
Throw in Jewish security, and the stakes get higher yet.
Prinz’s jeremiads against Nazism and later in support of civil rights would assure his place in American-Jewish history. Whether it would assure him a place in a modern American pulpit is another story. Support for “social justice” — in the form of volunteerism and charitable giving — is fine. Also tolerated is a certain amount of activism on consensus issues, which have lately become elusive.
As for urging specific stands on candidates or pieces of legislation — rabbis quickly learn that neither smooths their path to contract renewal.
For many congregants, this is as it should be. They feel that the great knotty corpus of Jewish text shouldn’t be reduced to a policy prescription, or that they shouldn’t be forced to hear a political speech in a house of worship.
Cosgrove especially anticipated the kinds of objections — mostly tactical — he thought he might get from congregants: Opposing a popular candidate like Mamdani would invite an antisemitic backlash, or centering Zionism in the mayor’s race would confirm the slander of dual loyalty.
Buchdahl faced the opposite pressure: congregants insisting she endorse Cuomo. There have been some nasty Instagram posts calling her timid, with comments suggesting that some congregants may have resigned over the saga.
Buchdahl’s letter insists that declining to endorse does not mean she and the synagogue are abdicating their responsibility to Jewish safety. Rather, she wrote, the synagogue does its job by instilling the values that shape the political decisions of its congregants.
“Our role,” she wrote, “is not to enter political campaigns or to endorse or speak out against candidates, but to provide moral and spiritual clarity on important public issues.”
The post Rabbis Angela Buchdahl and Elliot Cosgrove show the split in the pulpit over political endorsements appeared first on The Forward.
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Ethiopian-American Jews lament loss of Harlem restaurant hub
For over a decade, Tsion Cafe, which owner Beejhy Barhany believes is the only Ethiopian Jewish restaurant in America, introduced patrons to injera, shakshuka spiced with berbere, and the flavors of Ethiopian-Jewish cuisine. But more than that, it introduced many patrons to Ethiopian Jews for the first time.
“I’ve been the ambassador, willingly or unwillingly,” Barhany said. “On the forefront, bringing and pushing for Jewish diversity.”
She recalled a moment that, for her, encapsulates the spirit of Tsion Cafe: feeding gursha — the Ethiopian tradition of placing food directly into someone’s mouth as a gesture of love — to an elderly Ashkenazi Jewish woman.
“She was open to receiving it! Someone who would never eat with their fingers,” Barhany said, laughing. “And she couldn’t stop.”
For Ethiopian Jews in America, a community numbering only a few hundred, Tsion Cafe was one of the only public-facing outposts of their heritage. But earlier this month, Barhany, who has been serving up Ethiopian Jewish delicacies to the Harlem community since 2014, announced on Instagram that she would close the restaurant’s dining room for “security reasons,” a move first reported by the New York Jewish Week.
Barhany told the Forward she has received “a lot of hate, phone calls, harassment,” including someone scrawling a swastika on the front of the restaurant. “You kind of push it aside, you disregard it. But at the end of the day, there is an impact emotionally, and it becomes a burden. I said to myself, ‘You know what? It’s just not worth it. It’s too much to deal with.’”
Despite the closure, Barhany remains determined to continue to share Ethiopian Jewish culture with patrons through catering and private events. “We are pivoting for security reasons because we have been threatened,” she said. “It’s not gone. We are reinventing ourselves. We are not giving up.”
The ‘October 8th Impact’
Barhany was born in Ethiopia and spent three years in a Sudanese refugee camp before moving to Israel in 1983, where she later served in the Israeli Defense Forces — a path shared by many Ethiopian Jews of her generation.
Ethiopian Jews lived for centuries in Ethiopia, maintaining ancient Jewish traditions and largely isolated from the broader Jewish world. In the 1980s and early 1990s, amid widespread instability in Ethiopia, Israel carried out dramatic covert airlift operations which brought tens of thousands of Ethiopian Jews to Israel. For many, their connection to Israel is rooted not only in longstanding religious tradition, but also in the lived experience of those rescue missions.
“Ethiopian Jews are very loyal to Jerusalem and to the people of Israel,” said Dr. Ephraim Isaac, an Ethiopian Jewish scholar based in New Jersey. “All the Ethiopian Jews I know living in America have relatives in Israel, and they go back and forth.”
When she arrived in New York in the early 2000s, Barhany was struck by how little awareness Americans had of the African Jewish diaspora. Wanting to educate her new neighbors about her background, and searching for a sense of “community and belonging,” she opened Tsion Cafe in 2014.
After the violent attacks on Israelis on October 7, 2023, Barhany said she felt the desire to be more public about her Judaism and her connection to Israel. “It was that October 8th impact. You just wanted to be a proud Jew,” she said. That impulse pushed her to make Tsion Cafe fully kosher and vegan. “I thought, ‘How can I have my people come here and feel comfortable?’ And also introduce Ethiopian food to people who never had it before.”
She also became more outspoken about her Jewish heritage and her connection to Israel, appearing in cooking videos with popular pro-Israel influencer Noa Tishby, and posting photos of herself at a pro-Israel rally shortly after the October 7 attacks. As pro-Palestinian protests unfolded across New York City, particularly on nearby college campuses like Columbia University, she said she understood that her outspokenness could make her a target.
But for Barhany, there was no other option. “I celebrated proudly and amplify my identity. I never shy away from that,” she said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be true to myself.” She says her advocacy “happened organically, sincerely, genuinely, because who I am.” “I didn’t sign up for this,” she said, laughing. “But I am happy to engage with those people and maybe broaden their understanding of Jewish Diaspora.”
A small community, a singular space
For many in the United States’ small Ethiopian Jewish community, Tsion Cafe’s closure represents more than a business shift; it marks the disappearance of one of the only visible spaces representing their culture in America.
Isaac estimates the Ethiopian Jewish population in America numbers only a few hundred.“They came here just like other members of Israeli society,” he said, for education, work, or opportunity. Some say they came to the U.S. to get away from discrimination they experienced in Israel. The largest cluster, he noted, is in Jersey City, with smaller communities in Brooklyn and Queens. “We respect each other, we love each other, but never lost contact,” he said.
Barhany said that for many in the American Ethiopian Jewish community, Tsion Cafe was seen as “a home far away from home” with community members traveling from across the country to come to her restaurant. “We have people coming from D.C., L.A., you name it,” she said.
“I think a majority of Ethiopian Jews in America know Beejhy,” Isaac remarked. “The community is very upset by the closure. She is respected for all the efforts that she has undertaken.”
Tali Aynalem, a 34-year-old Ethiopian Jew who lives in Oregon, said Tsion Cafe challenged longstanding assumptions about what Jewish identity looks like in the U.S.. “In America, there is an idea of one way that a Jewish person looks like. I always sort of have to explain who I am. It’s not just understood.”
For Aynalem, Tsion Cafe was bringing to light the diversity of Jews and Israelis to an American audience. “She really was showing what Israel is all about, which is that we are so mixed because we’ve all been in exile in so many different places for so long. She showed that in her restaurant.”
But Aynalem sees the restaurant’s closure as part of a broader trend.“People are quick to say, ‘It’s a Black-owned business, it’s a small business, support it.’ But as long as there’s an intersection with Judaism, there’s no support,” she said. “It raises the question: do you care about Black people, or do you just not care about Jews, regardless of color?”
She added that, as an Ethiopian Jewish woman, she once believed her racial identity shielded her from certain forms of antisemitism.
“For a long time, I felt like that extra layer of being Black almost protected me, because people are scared of being called racist,” she said. “They’re not scared of being called antisemitic.”
In the wake of rising threats and Tsion Cafe’s closure, she said, that sense of insulation has faded.
“It shows you that antisemitism, regardless of what you look like, doesn’t really discriminate,” she said. “I don’t think I have that extra armor anymore. No one is really safe in this climate.”
Aynalem also worries that Ethiopian Jews in America are still understood primarily through the lens of rescue. She said that for many American Jews, the only thing they know about Ethiopian Jews is stories of the dramatic operations that brought them to Israel.
“We’re past that,” she said. “Let’s talk about my generation. We’re part of the culture. People are eating injera, that’s a normal occurrence within Israeli culture now.” For Tali, Tsion Cafe was doing exactly that.
Barhany agrees.
“I always see articles about Ethiopian Jews being rescued,” she said. “I’m kind of fed up with that.” For her, Tsion Cafe was a way to “bring something more positive and more unifying” to the American conversation about Ethiopian Jewish life.
Not just for Ethiopian Jews
Rabbi Mira Rivera of JCC Harlem said Tsion Cafe was woven into the fabric of Jewish life in the neighborhood. “The Ethiopian Jews in Harlem aren’t going anywhere,” she said. “But it was always a joy to have a bastion, a place where you’d say, ‘Let’s meet at Tsion Cafe. Let’s celebrate your birthday there.’ It was part of living in Harlem.”
She compared Tsion Cafe to the Ethiopian Jewish neighborhoods she had visited in Israel, places where a community had a visible center. “This was that place,” she said. “It was where people gathered. Over the years, they changed to vegan and kosher so that the larger Jewish community would start to understand and partake in their culture.” She continued, “to not have that place where all the families can go, it’s really hard.”
But for Barhany, Tsion Cafe was never meant to be “just a cafe.” “I didn’t want it to be a regular cafe where you go in, sit, pay, and go,” she said. “It’s a place where people can nourish and engage in grown-up conversation.”
Amid antisemitic threats, she remains more committed to that mission than ever. Barhany plans to host interfaith gatherings and travel the country to share the flavors and stories of Ethiopian Jewish culture.
“If I can facilitate dialogue, I would be honored,” she said.
“We are not giving up. We are still here. We’re just coming in a different shape or form.”
The post Ethiopian-American Jews lament loss of Harlem restaurant hub appeared first on The Forward.
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Tucker’s Ideas About Jews Come from Darkest Corners of the Internet, Says Huckabee After Combative Interview
US Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee looks on during the day he visits the Western Wall, Judaism’s holiest prayer site, in Jerusalem’s Old City, April 18, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Ronen Zvulun
i24 News – In a combative interview with US Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee, right-wing firebrand Tucker Carlson made a host of contentious and often demonstrably false claims that quickly went viral online. Huckabee, who repeatedly challenged the former Fox News star during the interview, subsequently made a long post on X, identifying a pattern of bad-faith arguments, distortions and conspiracies in Carlson’s rhetorical style.
Huckabee pointed out his words were not accorded by Carlson the same degree of attention and curiosity the anchor evinced toward such unsavory characters as “the little Nazi sympathizer Nick Fuentes or the guy who thought Hitler was the good guy and Churchill the bad guy.”
“What I wasn’t anticipating was a lengthy series of questions where he seemed to be insinuating that the Jews of today aren’t really same people as the Jews of the Bible,” Huckabee wrote, adding that Tucker’s obsession with conspiracies regarding the provenance of Ashkenazi Jews obscured the fact that most Israeli Jews were refugees from the Arab and Muslim world.
The idea that Ashkenazi Jews are an Asiatic tribe who invented a false ancestry “gained traction in the 80’s and 90’s with David Duke and other Klansmen and neo-Nazis,” Huckabee wrote. “It has really caught fire in recent years on the Internet and social media, mostly from some of the most overt antisemites and Jew haters you can find.”
Carlson branded Israel “probably the most violent country on earth” and cited the false claim that Israel President Isaac Herzog had visited the infamous island of the late, disgraced sex offender Jeffrey Epstein.
“The current president of Israel, whom I know you know, apparently was at ‘pedo island.’ That’s what it says,” Carlson said, citing a debunked claim made by The Times reporter Gabrielle Weiniger. “Still-living, high-level Israeli officials are directly implicated in Epstein’s life, if not his crimes, so I think you’d be following this.”
Another misleading claim made by Carlson was that there were more Christians in Qatar than in Israel.
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Pezeshkian Says Iran Will Not Bow to Pressure Amid US Nuclear Talks
Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian attends the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO) Summit 2025, in Tianjin, China, September 1, 2025. Iran’s Presidential website/WANA (West Asia News Agency)/Handout via REUTERS
Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian said on Saturday that his country would not bow its head to pressure from world powers amid nuclear talks with the United States.
“World powers are lining up to force us to bow our heads… but we will not bow our heads despite all the problems that they are creating for us,” Pezeshkian said in a speech carried live by state TV.