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The settlers’ attack on Huwara is not the Orthodox Judaism I grew up on
(JTA) — Nighttime in Huwara, a small Palestinian town in the West Bank. Jews in large skullcaps and sidelocks, prayer fringes dangling from their waists, responding loudly to the cantor: “Yehei shmei raba mevurach leolam u’leolmei olmaya” (“May His great name be blessed, forever and ever”) — the words of Kaddish, a regular daily prayer that can also be said to mourn the dead.
The gloom outside is illuminated by an enormous bonfire of cars, shops and homes belonging to the Palestinian residents of the village, which the Kaddish-reciters have set on fire, in revenge for the horrific and heartrending murders, hours before the pogrom, of brothers Hillel and Yagel Yaniv (may their memory be a blessing) and for other recent terror attacks in the area.
One Palestinian was killed during the rioting by these Jewish settlers. Dozens of wounded Palestinians were evacuated to hospitals, some from smoke inhalation, others from beatings and stabbings. A family was evacuated by IDF troops, moments before they might have perished in the flames that took their home.
This wasn’t just any Kaddish, yet another one of those said and repeated by any observant Jew multiple times a day, sometimes in mumbling fashion. This time it was a Kaddish for Judaism itself.
I grew up in a small town in central Israel, in a classic “dati leumi” or national religious community whose ideology combines Zionism and Orthodox Judaism. I studied in typical religious institutions: a school in the state-religious education stream, a high school yeshiva and a “hesder yeshiva,” which combines advanced religious studies with military service. I was also very active in the religious Zionist Bnei Akiva youth movement, as an educator and leader.
Even today I live in a religious community in Jerusalem, and my young children study in schools that belong to the state-religious education stream.
The Judaism that I know and by which I try to live is a Judaism that operates according to the commandment “walk in His ways” (Deuteronomy 11:22) and the Talmud: “As He is gracious you should also be gracious, as He is compassionate you should also be compassionate” (Shabbat 133b:4-6). This Judaism operates according to the verse from Leviticus, “The land shall not be sold permanently, for the land belongs to Me, for you are strangers and [temporary] residents with Me.”
By contrast, the Judaism that the militant settlers imbibed — or distorted — led one of the pogromchiks, he too in skullcap and sidelocks, to speak in Hebrew words I understood but whose language I could not not comprehend. “There is something very moving here,” he told a reporter. “Jews won’t be silent. What the army can’t do, what the police will never do, simple Jews come and carry out a simple act of vengeance, setting fire to anything they can.”
The same Judaism led Davidi Ben Zion, deputy head of the Samaria Regional Council, also an observant Jew, to say blithely, shortly before the pogrom, that “Huwara should be wiped off the earth — no room for mercy,” and “the [Jewish] guys in Huwara right now are behaving precisely like guys whose brothers were massacred in cold blood at point-blank. The idea that a Jew in Samaria is a diasporic Jew who will be stabbed in the heart and politely say thank you, is childish naivete.”
That same Judaism led Israel’s finance minister, Betzalel Smotrich, the de facto governor of the West Bank, to publicly support a tweet by another coalition member calling to “wipe out” the village.
In the name of this Judaism, denizens of hills and outposts abuse the Palestinians daily, with the aid or under the blind eye of the IDF. A national Jewish settlement endeavor has been taking place for two generations now, which despite the good intentions of some of its practitioners, has included land theft, institutionalized discrimination, killing and hatred. An endeavor under which the current coalition, the most observant ever, only grows and intensifies.
In ordinary times life is not black and white. The Palestinian side also has a significant part in the story. The violence comes in great force and cruelty from there as well, and its many victims and circles burn the soul and draw many good people into the cycle of vengeance. The solution, too, is complex and hard to see, even far off on the horizon. But there are moments when things are actually very clear, clarifying the gray areas, when the choices are between life and death, and good and evil.
This evil version of Judaism is a lethal drug, which through a historical twist of fate gained ascendance over our ancient tradition. Combined with nationalism and majority hegemony in the Land of Israel, it has become a conflagration, one that has long since spread beyond religious Zionism — what Americans might refer to as “Modern Orthodox” — to the haredi, or ultra-Orthodox sector, and Israeli society in general.
An entire generation of Jews has been raised on this Judaism of hate, contemptuous of anyone who is not Jewish, of any display of weakness, of compassion. To whom Judaism is not the keeping and continuation of our tradition, observing commandments or studying Torah, but a worship of “Jewish might” (“Otzma Yehudit,” the name of a far-right political party) and limitless greed. In this Judaism, traditional values like modesty, pity and charity are signs of weakness, or remnants of a pathetic and feeble Christian morality that under no circumstances are to be shown to a stranger, the other, those who are not like us.
What we need now is not accommodation, nor soft words and platitudes. Neither will an obvious and empty condemnation of the pogrom do a bit of good. What we need now — having seen the elected officials who represent this religious population, having witnessed their nationalist Judaism — is a policy rooted in a tradition they abandoned. We should treat those who distort Judaism as the Mishnah tells us to treat all evildoers: “Distance yourself from an evil neighbor, and do not cleave to a wicked person” (Ethics of the Fathers 1:7). We need to announce that we want no part in the feral growth that has sprung up here, that this is not the tradition we grew up on, this is not the Torah we studied, and this is not how we wish to live our lives and raise our children.
Let us return to tradition and start over.
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The post The settlers’ attack on Huwara is not the Orthodox Judaism I grew up on appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Fetterman Hosts AIPAC, Bondi Survivor in DC Office, Voices Support for ‘Jewish Community and Our Special Ally’
US Sen. John Fetterman (D-PA) gives an interview in his office in the Russell Senate Office Building in Washington, DC, Jan. 18, 2024. Photo: Rod Lamkey / CNP/Sipa USA for NY Post via Reuters Connect
US Sen. John Fetterman (D-PA) welcomed representatives from the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) and a survivor of the Bondi Beach massacre to his Washington, DC office on Tuesday, expressing support for the “global Jewish community” and the longstanding strategic partnership between the US and Israel.
“Proudly welcomed AIPAC and a survivor of the Bondi Beach massacre — a living reminder of the global scourge of antisemitism. My voice and vote will always stand with and support the global Jewish community and our special ally,” Fetterman posted on the social media platform X.
Proudly welcomed @AIPAC and a survivor of the Bondi Beach massacre—a living reminder of the global scourge of antisemitism.
My voice and vote will always stand with and support the global Jewish community and our special ally. pic.twitter.com/mz5damSvV9
— U.S. Senator John Fetterman (@SenFettermanPA) February 24, 2026
Fetterman, who has emerged as a prominent pro-Israel voice among Democrats on Capitol Hill, has signaled unwavering support for the Jewish state as its standing among liberal voters and progressive lawmakers has cratered.
The Pennsylvania lawmaker has repeatedly affirmed Israel’s right to defend itself from the Hamas terrorist group in Gaza and has defended the Jewish state from unsubstantiated claims of “genocide.” He also displayed the photos of the hostages captured by Hamas-led terrorists during their Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel in his office, drawing praise from pro-Israel Americans.
Despite his party’s increasing opposition to US military support for Israel, Fetterman has repeatedly vowed to vote in favor of such support for the Jewish state, rankling the progressive wing of the Democratic Party.
“I’m a really strong, unapologetic supporter of Israel and it’s really not going to change for me when [Donald] Trump becomes [president]. My vote and voice is going to follow Israel,” Fetterman said during an interview in December 2024.
One year later, Fetterman lamented the deadly attack on a Hanukkah celebration at Sydney’s Bondi Beach in December that killed 15 people who attended the Jewish gathering and wounded at least 40 others, expressing alarm about the global rise in antisemitism.
“After years of anti-Israel protests in Australia, at least 11 Jews were just gunned down at a Hanukkah event. Tree of Life to 10/07 to Bondi Beach: antisemitism is a rising and deadly global scourge. I stand and grieve with Israel and the Jewish global community,” he posted shortly after the shooting, using a figure based on an early death toll.
Though American lawmakers from both major political parties roundly condemned the Bondi Beach massacre, Fetterman’s decision this week to publicly meet with AIPAC, the premier pro-Israel lobbying group in the US, will likely raise eyebrows among his liberal supporters.
In the two years following the breakout of the Israel-Hamas war, AIPAC’s standing among the Democratic party has plummeted dramatically. In primary races across the country, Democratic hopefuls are being pressed on their connections to AIPAC and facing demands to pledge not to accept funding from the group, which seeks to foster bipartisan support for the US-Israel relationship. The emergence of AIPAC support as a kind of litmus test has raised concerns among Jewish Democrats that the party is becoming increasingly inhospitable to Jews and Zionists.
According to polls, Fetterman is unpopular among Democratic primary voters, making him vulnerable in a primary competition. Numerous progressives in the Keystone State have signaled they are gearing up to challenge Fetterman for the party nomination in 2028.
However, Fetterman maintains shockingly high approval ratings among Republicans and strong approval ratings among independents, potentially injecting a significant degree of uncertainty into the Pennsylvania Senate race if he were to run as an independent in the general election.
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Protesters at ‘Scream 7’ Premiere Call for Film’s Boycott After Former Lead Star Fired for Antisemitic Posts
(L-R) Actress Neve Campbell and director Kevin Williamson at the Paramount Pictures’ SCREAM 7 Los Angeles Premiere held at the Paramount Studios in Los Angeles, CA on Wednesday, Feb. 26, 2026. Photo: Sthanlee B. Mirador/Sipa USA via Reuters Connect
Protesters demonstrated outside the “Scream 7” premiere at Paramount Pictures Studios in Los Angeles on Wednesday night to call for the film’s boycott after its former lead star, Melissa Barrera, was fired in 2023 for posting antisemitic and anti-Israel messages on social media.
The protesters, who were supporters of groups including Entertainment Labor for Palestine and Musicians for Palestine, waved Palestinian flags and held signs that criticized Paramount as well as Israel.
“Paramount Whitewashes Genocide,” read one sign held by a demonstrator. Another sign read “Boycott Scream 7 Stand For Free Speech” while a separate one said “LAPD, KKK, IDF It’s All the Same,” referring to the Los Angeles Police Department, the Ku Klux Klan, and the Israel Defense Forces.
“Paramount has a BLACKLIST of actors who criticize Israel,” claimed another sign.
Barrera was set to star in “Scream 7” after leading the fifth and sixth installments of the franchise. In November 2023, however, Spyglass Media Group, which produces the “Scream” film franchise, fired Barrera from reprising her role in the seventh “Scream” movie after the Mexican actress posted on Instagram messages that described Israel as a “colonized” land, suggested the Jewish state controls the media, accused Israel of genocide and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians during the war with Hamas in Gaza, and criticized the United States for sending “billions of dollars to fund a genocide.” She also shared a post about distorting “the Holocaust to boost the Israeli arms industry.”
Spyglass Media Group said in a statement at the time that it had “zero tolerance for antisemitism or the incitement of hate in any form, including false references to genocide, ethnic cleansing, Holocaust distortion, or anything that flagrantly crosses the line into hate speech.”
Shortly after Barrera’s firing, Jenna Ortega dropped out of “Scream 7,” but her decision was due to a scheduling conflict, and director Christopher Landon also left the project. He made the announcement on X, writing in part, “It was a dream job that turned into a nightmare. And my heart did break for everyone involved. Everyone. But it’s time to move on.”
Kevin Williamson, who wrote the original 1996 “Scream” film directed by Wes Craven, returned to direct “Scream 7” with a script from Guy Busick. The film is set to open on Friday, and the cast includes Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox, Mason Gooding, Isabel May, Celeste O’Connor, Asa Germann, McKenna Grace, Sam Rechner, and Anna Camp.
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It’s time to talk about Purim’s unsettling message about conversion
Purim is meant to be loud: a holiday for drinking, dressing up, yelling and retelling a story of miraculous survival.
Which means it’s easy to miss a brief but significant verse near the end of the Book of Esther — one that deserves to be lingered over:
“And many of the people of the land professed to be Jews, for the fear of the Jews had fallen upon them.”
That line doesn’t lend itself to celebration. It does not describe people drawn to Judaism by teaching or conviction. Instead, it chronicles a far more troubling choice: people becoming Jews because they are afraid of Jews.
Whether the Book of Esther records events that literally occurred is beside the point. What matters is that Jews read this line aloud every year, carrying its language forward across generations. For a tradition that often insists Judaism does not seek converts and rejects religious coercion, this verse preserves an unsettling possibility: that joining the Jewish people can be driven by fear as much as conviction.
By the end of the narrative, Jews wield power, and the dread that once haunted them shifts outward.
Yes, some read the verse as referring to political alignment rather than religious change. Others treat Esther as satire, its excesses not meant for emulation. Still others point to the absence of God in the book, and dismiss the line as non-theological.
Even with those readings, the line still does something difficult. It places an unresolved moral question inside a festival we otherwise frame as joyful: How does holding power change the face of Judaism?
When conversion was possible — or required
The common claim that Judaism has always discouraged conversion is historically inaccurate. Jewish attitudes toward converts have shifted with political conditions, not because theology changed, but because power dynamics did.
The truth is that for much of Jewish history, conversion was dangerous. After the destruction of the Temple in 70 C.E. and the failure of later revolts against Rome, much of Jewish life developed under sustained imperial pressure. Welcoming people raised outside the community became, practically, risky.
This is why the familiar line “Judaism doesn’t seek converts” is more of a survival posture than an eternal principle. After all, the Hebrew Bible repeatedly reminds readers that Israel’s calling was never meant to be entirely inward. A “mixed multitude” leaves Egypt. Gerim, resident outsiders, are repeatedly considered in biblical law. Isaiah imagines God’s house as a house of prayer for all peoples.
In the late Hellenistic and early Roman periods, Jewish communities were widely visible across the diaspora. An inscription from Aphrodisias in Asia Minor in modern-day Turkey lists not only Jews but also “proselytes” and “God-fearers” among synagogue donors, suggesting gentiles were sometimes attached to synagogue life. Similar “God-fearer” inscriptions survive from other cities in Roman Asia Minor, where gentiles were known to attend synagogues, admire Jewish ethics, and sometimes decide to join the Jewish people.
Even polemical texts preserve traces of this world. Matthew 23:15 mocks those who “travel across sea and land” to make a proselyte — meaning to convert to Judaism. Whatever one makes of the polemic, the line treats the basic fact as unremarkable: that conversion to Judaism was a regular part of the religious landscape in the first-century Mediterranean.
Other ancient sources, including the first-century historian Josephus, describe moments when Jewish rulers used conversion as a tool of rule. One of the starkest examples comes from the Hasmoneans, the priestly family behind the Maccabean revolt who ruled Judea from roughly 140 to 37 B.C.E. Under John Hyrcanus, who reigned from 134 to 104 B.C.E., the kingdom of Judea expanded through conquest. Hyrcanus governed as many ancient rulers did, through coercion.
Among the territories absorbed was Idumea, homeland of the Edomites. According to Josephus, Hyrcanus offered the Idumeans a choice: adopt Jewish law or leave the land. They chose conversion.
This is not an obscure episode. It sits in the shadow of Hanukkah, one of Judaism’s most widely celebrated holidays.
Centuries later, Jewish sovereignty appeared again in the Himyarite kingdom of southern Arabia, where a ruling elite adopted Judaism in the fourth century CE. Eventually, persecution of non-Jews followed. The kingdom’s final ruler, Dhu Nuwas, who reigned from 522 to 530 C.E., oppressed local Christian populations, provoking retaliation from the neighboring Kingdom of Aksum. After more than a century, the Jewish kingdom fell.
Not a powerless minority faith
The reigns of Hyrcanus and Nuwas complicate the familiar story of Judaism as only a powerless minority faith, always deterring conversion. They suggest that Jewish sovereignty could carry the same temptations that haunt sovereignty everywhere, including the temptation to force compliance on those of different beliefs.
The Book of Esther verse about conversion offers a warning about that dynamic, and an imperative to learn from it. The lesson is not to condemn Judaism. It is to refuse a simplified story in which Judaism’s posture toward conversion has been static and untouched by the realities of power.
Across many faiths, when political power disappears, priorities often shift. Teachings turn inward. When power reappears, however briefly, older questions have a habit of returning. Who belongs? Who chooses? And under what conditions are those choices made?
Purim does not allow us to keep those questions at a safe distance. We are meant to hear this troubling verse amid the laughter and noise of our celebrations, not as an endorsement of coercion, but as a warning.
Esther’s story insists that two things can be true: Jews can be vulnerable, and Jews can hold power. And if we can be afraid, it warns, we can also inspire fear, with consequences not only for the societies in which we live, but also for the kind of Jewish life we make possible.
The post It’s time to talk about Purim’s unsettling message about conversion appeared first on The Forward.