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They rallied rabbis against Mamdani’s anti-Zionism. What does The Jewish Majority do next?
Plenty of Jews were concerned about the specter of Zohran Mamdani becoming mayor of New York. But few did as much to mobilize other Jews around the issue as Jonathan Schulman.
Via his newly formed organization, The Jewish Majority, Schulman circulated a letter to rabbis and cantors around the country opposing “rising anti-Zionism and its political normalization throughout our nation.” The letter, which called out Mamdani by name, was signed by more than 1,100 Jewish congregational leaders — one of the most widely endorsed missives of its kind — and galvanized many clergy who had been reluctant to use their pulpits to wade into a political arena.
They didn’t get what they wanted. Yet the day after a decisive victory by Mamdani, Schulman wasn’t as despondent as one might imagine. Instead, he sees his group’s work as a success.
“This wasn’t about Mamdani,” he told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency on Wednesday, rejecting the suggestion that his campaign amounted to an effort to get Jews to vote against the mayor-elect.
Instead, Schulman said, The Jewish Majority proved that it could combat a “subversion of the accurate representation of the Jewish narrative.”
He sees his work as simple: providing an organized Jewish voice, on Israel and other issues, to counteract what he sees as the growing influence of left-wing Jewish groups like Jewish Voice for Peace and Jews for Racial and Economic Justice. As members of those groups have aligned closely with Mamdani and stand to grow their influence under his administration, the Jewish Majority aims to serve as a counter-narrative.
New York City mayoral candidate Zohran K. Mamdani and NYC comptroller Brad Lander speak during the Jews For Racial And Economic Justice’s Mazals Gala on Sept. 10, 2025 in New York City. (John Lamparski/Getty Images)
“They exist to present fringe views to the public as normative,” he said. “If we decide to let them be the only ones to hold the microphone, that would be a mistake we can’t afford to make.” That includes on the issue of “political anti-Zionism,” which Schulman insists was the goal of the rabbinic letter — rather than an explicit anti-endorsement of Mamdani as a candidate.
There are an estimated 3,000 to 4,000 rabbis in the United States, meaning that potentially a third of them signed on to a single statement. Others indicated that they agreed with the sentiments but chose not to sign for other reasons.
“We’ve seen countless examples over the past couple of years of Jews coming out in support of anti-Zionist candidates,” Schulman said. “And now that narrative has shifted. Now you look at that narrative and it’s hard to say, ‘Well, look, these rabbis are supporting this candidate.’ Well, in fact, what you’re seeing is overwhelmingly one of the largest displays of rabbinic unity that we’ve seen in our country, saying we don’t accept the normalization of political anti-Zionism.”
He is skeptical of early exit polling purporting to show as many as one-third of Jewish voters in New York breaking for Mamdani, and suspects the actual number is closer to the “80-20” split that research suggests also reflects the Jewish consensus around Zionism.
Promoting an institutional Jewish consensus will continue post-Mamdani. Schulman insisted The Jewish Majority would not be making policy, only amplifying the views of major Jewish groups such as the Anti-Defamation League, the American Jewish Congress, Jewish federations and the New York Board of Rabbis. He also said he would not seek to join the Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Groups or other coalitions.
“We’re here to reflect,” he said. “It’s not my job to weigh in.” One item on his agenda, he said, is instituting “training programs” to teach Jewish leaders how to “present normative communal perspectives.”
Schulman has felt his own priorities within the Jewish community shift. Before striking off on his own, he spent 18 years at the pro-Israel lobbying giant AIPAC. One of his duties was to “work with congregations throughout the United States to increase the level of pro-Israel political activism in American synagogues.”
He left AIPAC in August 2024, as the group’s brand was becoming increasingly toxic amid the war in Gaza. Today even some moderate Democrats, like Massachusetts Senate candidate Seth Moulton, have sworn off accepting AIPAC donations. When radio host Charlamagne tha God wanted to insult Democratic Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries as someone with no real principles, he called the Brooklyn congressman “AIPAC Shakur.”
Schulman declined to comment on whether he had split from AIPAC ideologically. “I have a lot of respect for my former colleagues, and it’s a great organization,” he said. Nor does he see his work with The Jewish Majority as a throughline from his work there. Despite the overlapping focus on Jewish clergy, he insisted, this is “not ‘AIPAC by a different name.’”
Instead, he said, he left AIPAC because he had identified this new problem — the growing influence of left-wing Jewish groups after Oct. 7 — and wanted to counteract it, in a way he deemed non-political in nature. Even with all the Jewish organizations that were opposing anti-Zionism on the national stage, he said, “there is nobody whose job is to make sure that the Jewish community is accurately represented, that Jewish communal values are accurately represented.”
Those same Jewish groups, whose priorities he hopes to give a megaphone to, are scrambling in the wake of Mamdani’s big win. The ADL has launched a “Mamdani monitor” to keep tabs on the new mayor’s administration. JFREJ, meanwhile, sees no reason to come to the Jewish center: A victory Zoom call scheduled for Thursday to “celebrate our massive win” is set to feature pro-Palestinian activist Linda Sarsour and Jamaal Bowman, the former “Squad” congressman who is rumored to be on Mamdani’s schools chancellor shortlist.
Schulman is optimistic about building an organized Jewish counter-narrative to that perspective — so long as the ceasefire in Gaza holds.
“The American Jewish community has been undergoing a profound change, and because we’ve been in the middle of this war, which has been a propaganda war here in America that we’ve seen proliferating, we haven’t had the capacity to really think about, ‘What is the future going to look like?’” he said.
“People are starting to finally say, OK, the fighting has stopped, and we need to think about how the Jewish community is going to be able to represent itself for the long haul.”
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The post They rallied rabbis against Mamdani’s anti-Zionism. What does The Jewish Majority do next? appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Why I’m vibing with the pope’s first big statement
I have long been obsessed with the Vatican and the inner workings of the papacy. (I majored and did my Master’s in religious studies.) But usually other people are not as tickled as I am by analyzing the newest theological statements from the Holy See.
Not this week. Pope Leo XIV just put out his first encyclical — the term used to refer to official statements outlining the church’s stance on a topic — and it has gone viral. “Spitting fire right out the gate,” said one of many similar trending posts, as though the encyclical was a rap song.
The topic is buzzy: AI, which the pope casts as one of the greatest threats to human flourishing and morality. (The encyclical is titled “Magnifica Humanitas,” or “Magnificent Humanity” in English, if that gives you the gist.) “Humanity, created by God in all its grandeur,” it opens, “ is today facing a pivotal choice: either to construct a new Tower of Babel or to build the city in which God and humanity dwell together.”
The document notes many of the concrete risks of AI — sexual abuse, distortion of facts, job loss — and calls for pragmatic solutions. But it is, at its heart, a testament to what makes humans human, written with palpable adoration for the people of the world: our creativity, our empathy, even our weaknesses. It’s a declaration that machines can never have the ineffable qualities of God’s children.
Structuring our world around technology, Leo writes, reduces “creation to an object of exploitation and human beings to mere cogs in a system driven toward ever greater efficiency.”
Later, in a paean to the importance of deep thought over easy answers, he goes on: “The speed and ease with which answers or summaries can be obtained risk extinguishing the desire to ask questions,” he writes, calling on the world “to protect our young people from the promise of the perfect machine” and warning against rendering “human thought seemingly superfluous precisely when it is most needed.”
“Magnificatus Humanitas” is a major statement, both in length — more than 43,000 words — and in symbolism. A pope’s first encyclical indicates the issues they believe are most important to the church, and signals the likely direction of their papacy.
That direction, for Pope Leo, is to be a voice for moral leadership, writ large. He addressed the encyclical not only to Catholics or even Christians, but “to all men and women of goodwill,” and cited thinkers like Hannah Arendt and J.R.R. Tolkien alongside the Bible.
It’s a declaration of a new — or, arguably, very old — relevance for religious leaders. As people rush through our increasingly fast-paced, frantic world, striving to keep up with the newest technology or geopolitical shift affecting markets and jobs, the slow-moving, zoomed-out perspective of religious leaders seems to be more and more important.
The Vatican held massive authority both moral and military for much of Western history. But its sway faded in the modern age. As democracy rose, Christianity broke into factions and religion’s prominence weakened, leaving the Church without the same ability to bestow a divine mandate on nations and rulers.
So many modern popes have kept their sights more narrowly focused on the theological. Even Pope Francis, who was a liberal, modernizing force for the church, and spoke out strongly on topics like the environment and immigration, focused three of his four encyclicals on Christian theological concepts like the Sacred Heart and Christianity as the world’s guiding light.
Pope Leo, however, seems to have found his way to modern, secular relevance by speaking out clearly on major issues of the day. He notes that he drew inspiration for “Magnificatus Humanitas” from Pope Leo XIII, an influential pope in the late 1800s and the inspiration for the modern Leo’s own papal moniker, whose 1891 encyclical “Rerum Novarum,” on the economy and conditions of the working class, was criticized for insufficient focus on the Gospel. The current pope’s own document is remarkably concrete and political.
Making political statements isn’t new for Leo, but the encyclical canonizes his boldness into an official form. In the past few months I’ve written about the ways in which Pope Leo has used sermons and statements to directly counter those made by U.S. leaders. After Pete Hegseth made a speech implying the U.S. military is doing God’s will, the pope gave a homily saying that prayers for war cannot be heard by God. He has made strongly worded comments about the rights of immigrants as Trump announced increased ICE raids, and made a point of appointing foreign bishops in American parishes. He has refused to visit the U.S. despite the fact that he is American and has been invited numerous times, including for the nation’s 250th birthday; he is instead planning to visit an island that serves as a refugee landing point in the Mediterranean.
It’s not all that surprising that Leo is making pronouncements on the justness of wars; popes have always given commentary on the world, albeit often less pointedly. Of course, Catholics have always looked to the pope for moral leadership — though that is increasingly under question, as renegade Catholics doubt the pope. (Even J.D. Vance, a Catholic convert with a book coming out about his conversion, has warned the pope to be “careful” with his theological interpretations — a near heretical statement. That’s how Protestantism came about.) The difference today is that everybody is listening.
I think the reason is that there is a certain ineffable quality that can’t be accounted for in so much of modern-day discourse in our metrics-focused world. Everything needs to be provable with a statistical analysis or some quantifiable indicator, or it needs to be as profitable as possible to extract value. But so much of what is most valuable in the human experience is intuitive — experiences and emotions like love, joy, transcendence. Connection with each other. Religious leaders have been honing the language to talk about these qualities for centuries, and they guard one of the only arenas in which the intangible remains central.
Of course, there are also plenty of issues with religious institutions, and the Vatican in particular is famous as a site where abuses of power were hidden and protected. But “Magnifica Humanitas,” and its virality, points toward a new relationship with religion, and a newly important role for it to play.
Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking, a hope for my own increased importance as a religion reporter.
The post Why I’m vibing with the pope’s first big statement appeared first on The Forward.
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How can I live freely as a Jew in a world where strangers rip my mezuzah off my doorframe?
Twice, the mezuzah on my front door was ripped off.
The first time, I was shocked. The second time, I made a decision that still pains me. I did not put it back up.
This was before the Hamas attack of Oct. 7, 2023.
That is the part I keep coming back to. The fear did not begin after the Hamas attacks. It was already there, intruding with the quiet calculation of whether a small Jewish symbol on my home made me less safe.
A mezuzah is not a political statement. It makes no argument about a government or a war. It is a sacred object, a marker of memory, a tiny declaration that says: Jews live here. I thought about that mezuzah again recently when the Anti-Defamation League released its annual audit showing that antisemitic physical assaults in the United States reached record highs in 2025. That increase reflects something many Jews already feel in daily life: the slow erosion of ease, the daily calculation of whether to speak up or stay quiet — things I have felt since the first time my mezuzah was violently torn off my doorframe.
Since then, the realm in which I feel safe as a visibly Jewish person has been shrinking from all directions.
After the Oct. 7 attack, the bulletin boards in my apartment building began filling with calls to boycott Israel. Campaign flyers for a Jewish political candidate who came to speak there were defaced with Hitler mustaches. I learned to scan the walls before I scanned my mail.
This was not happening on a campus quad or in some distant place. It was happening where I live.
Then, among my mother’s things, I found a Star of David necklace from the 1930s — marcasite set against black onyx, delicate and old. A boyfriend had given it to her when they were both 14.
I put it on in Florida, where I spend much of my time caring for my mother. I loved wearing it. It felt like more than jewelry. It felt like inheritance, memory, and a small way of carrying my family with me.
But when my mother knew I was going back to New York, she told me to take it off.
My mother is 102. She is not easily frightened. She has lived long enough to know when the temperature in the room has changed. She was not making a political argument. She was trying to protect her daughter.
I still wear that Star of David. But I admit I am selective. In New York, there are moments when I leave it visible and moments when I tuck it under my shirt. That calculation itself tells me something about the world I am moving through.
Recently, in a private Facebook group for women essayists, I shared a personal piece I had written for the United Kingdom-based Jewish Chronicle about how Oct. 7 changed life for my mother and me. It was not a political manifesto. It was a reflection on fear, Jewish identity, aging and visibility.
And still, I was attacked by other writers.“What about Gaza?” I was asked. The message was clear: even my personal Jewish pain had to pass a political test before it could be acknowledged.
That is the narrowing.
This ugliness is coming from more than one direction now. It stems from old conspiracy theories on the right and newer moral certainties in some of the progressive spaces where I once felt most at home. Different language brings about the same result: Jews become less human, less particular, less entitled to fear.
That collapse is what frightens me most: the definitional collapse between Jew and Israeli; Israeli and Israel’s government; Jewish symbol and political provocation; mezuzah and target.
As Jews like me reckon with that collapse, we must reckon with how much we’ll go along with it.
Right now, too often, Jews are being asked to choose between our own safety and our compassion for others. We should be able to prioritize both. I am a Zionist. I believe in the right of the Jewish people to a homeland. I also believe Palestinians are human beings who deserve freedom, dignity, and protection from suffering.
These beliefs should not cancel each other out. They should make us more careful, more humane, more committed to truth.
Yet now we must choose between speaking about antisemitism and being accused of indifference to other hatreds. That is no way to live.
Since Oct. 7, I have found myself going to synagogue on Shabbat, something I never did before. I was a High Holiday Jew. Now I seek out rooms where I do not have to explain why this moment feels frightening. I have learned where I feel seen. I have learned who can hold my fear without turning it into an argument.
The mezuzah I did not put back up is small. It fits in the palm of my hand.
But what it represents is not small: memory, faith, survival, home, and the right to be visibly Jewish without fear.
When I did not put it back up, I told myself I was being practical. But now — after Oct. 7, the bulletin boards, my mother’s warning, and the explosive allegations I’ve seen travel through respected media without sufficient care or verification — I understand it differently.
I was not just protecting a doorframe. I was learning to shrink.
The post How can I live freely as a Jew in a world where strangers rip my mezuzah off my doorframe? appeared first on The Forward.
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Podcast: A lively conversation in Yiddish with actress Lea Koenig
ס׳איז לעצטנס אַרויס אַ פּאָדקאַסט מיט דער באַליבטער אַקטריסע אין ישׂראל, ליאַ קעניג, וועלכע איז הײַנט צום בעסטן באַקאַנט ווי די ייִדיש־רעדנדיקע באָבע פֿונעם פּערסאָנאַזש שלום שטיסל אין דער ישׂראלדיקער טעלעוויזיע־סעריע „שטיסל“.
אינעם שמועס באַטייליקן זיך אויך יניבֿ גאָלדבערג — דער מחבר פֿון אַ נײַער ביאָגראַפֿיע וועגן איר אויף ענגליש; דער איבערזעצער און דראַמאַטורג מיכל יאַשינסקי, און דער ייִדישער זינגער און קולטור־טוער חיים וואָלף. דעם פּאָדקאַסט האָט טראַנסמיטירט די באָסטאָנער ראַדיאָ־פּראָגראַם „דאָס ייִדישע קול“.
ליאַ קעניג גיט איבער אירע זכרונות במשך פֿון איר לאַנגער קאַריערע אין ייִדישן טעאַטער, ווי אויך אינעם העברעיִשן טעאַטער, טעלעוויזיע און קינאָ. כּדי צו הערן דעם פּאָדקאַסט, גיט אַ קוועטש דאָ.
The post Podcast: A lively conversation in Yiddish with actress Lea Koenig appeared first on The Forward.