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Why I yelled at God on Kol Nidre
Last Kol Nidre, I yelled at God.
My husband was in the hospital. He had been since the day after Rosh Hashanah. I sat in services and thought of a friend of mine’s interpretation of the binding of Isaac: that it had been a test that Abraham had failed, because the whole point was that Abraham was supposed to argue back, and that’s why Abraham and God don’t speak after that moment. “You want me to argue back? Fine,” I snapped in my head to the God I otherwise think of as a metaphor. “Give him back to me.” I choked back tears as the congregation prayed to be inscribed in the Book of Life.
I had really been looking forward to those High Holidays. More specifically, I was looking forward to filling out the little prompts that Reboot sends out every year during the Days of Awe encouraging you to reflect on the year that was and the year that is to come. The year before last, I had written a lot about how badly I wanted a baby. Last year, I had one. My husband and I had welcomed our wonderful son into the world several weeks prior. And unlike most things in life, having a baby was as good as I thought it would be. Better, even. Some days I thought I would crack in half from so much happiness. Not all day, every day, of course. In week 10, in a little postpartum discussion group I’d brought him to, I cried at how much he cried. But the overwhelming mood was one of unbelievable happiness and gratitude. I was looking forward to taking stock of, and basking in, my joy over the course of those 10 days.
On Rosh Hashanah, we brought him to a service for babies and small children. I came home and drank tea with honey and cuddled him and watched the little video I had taken of him cooing as I encouraged him to “say” “Shanah Tovah” and he smiled.
In the next room, my husband was in pain. That night, he was sick. The next day, he went to the hospital. We thought he’d be home that afternoon. Instead, he was there for three weeks. The last of those was largely spent in the ICU, which is where we celebrated our five year wedding anniversary and our son turning three months old. The latent kidney issues we’d always known he had had were now acute. He would be on dialysis and would need a kidney transplant.
For the first couple of months, this seemed strangely manageable. He went to dialysis but he also still went to the office for work. We could still go up and back to New York City from our home in Washington, DC to see our families. We spent Thanksgiving and the holidays with them. We still talked about things like buying a bigger place and going on vacation to different countries and having a second baby.
Then, in the winter, his eyes became yellow. After several months and a genetic test we learned that he had a rare genetic mutation. It was responsible for his diabetes and his kidney issues and, we learned in the spring, for his liver issues, too. He would need not a kidney transplant from a live donor but a kidney and liver transplant from a deceased one.
It took several additional hospital stays to get that answer. Each time, he lost more weight and developed health complications even as the doctors aimed to solve the big ones. I wrote my little articles at various bedsides. I sometimes feel powerless in writing about antisemitism and illiberalism, but that was nothing next to the frustration I felt at my failure to move him through medical morass more quickly, or to magically make him well again.
I made compromises in my head. I would give up this or that. I would take on more of the childcare or housework or whatever else by myself because he couldn’t. I pushed my book deadline back. I pushed it back again. Fine. Take it. Just let me keep my family.
In all of this, our son did not remain a crying 10-week-old. He became, despite everything, a very happy baby, and his every little development—crawling and clapping and cruising—made me happy, too. I watched as he played with his toy cars and flipped through his board books, giggling to himself, and as he grabbed his stuffed Grover in his little hands with dimples on the knuckles. Once, while I was putting him down to sleep, he grinned then blew a raspberry at me. I blew one back. We went on like that, quietly in the dark, making funny noises with our lips and tongues. My husband was in one of his many hospital stays that night and I marveled at how this moment of perfect wonder could be happening amidst my despair.
Our son made everything easier to navigate: I had a purpose and also a daily package of the affirmation of life and mischief. The contrast also made everything hurt. Our baby was so good. Why couldn’t everything be?
I made myself ask for, and accept, help. One friend accompanied my husband to medical appointments when I couldn’t be there. Others babysat our son. Another took our dog to the animal hospital one morning so that I could take our baby to his music class. People baked challah and cooked dinners and sent money for groceries and I hated saying yes but was so grateful that there was so much to say yes to. It won’t always be like this, my husband told me. He said that one day one of our friends will need help and we will know how to be there for them. I tried to remember that it would not be us asking for help forever, and that, in any case, asking for and receiving help was also part of what it meant to have built and be part of a community. That this, too, was what it meant to have a life that is part of a larger whole.
Various people mentioned the Book of Job to me. In some ways, I felt strangely jealous of Job, who at least has the opportunity to argue with the power responsible for his misfortune. If God appeared before me to taunt me, I wouldn’t just sit there and take it, I said. Someone told me that was the whole point. No one was showing up to take the blame because part of what was frustrating was that there was no one, really, to blame. Lots of people told me how unfair this all was. Of course it was. But so what? It wasn’t fair and that was that. Lots of things aren’t fair. Our situation was still more fair than many. The country and the world felt like they were falling apart. I wasn’t special. Lots of people yell at God on Kol Nidre and every other day. Or ask or beg God. And the universe and genetics and their husbands’ doctors, too.
The other thing about the Book of Job, I realized, is that Job had been happy. Did that past happiness make it more painful for him to sit there and listen to God talk about how He, and not Job, had made the oceans? Who cares who made the oceans? Job loved his wife and his children and then they were gone. Some people told me that all of this would make me appreciate what I had. But I had appreciated my little family.
What I had failed to appreciate, despite worrying theoretically about health as much as I did during pregnancy, was how little I had had to think about health in a terrifying and tangible way. An Uber driver on one of my seemingly countless trips to the hospital (why hadn’t I learned to drive?) told me that you have 1000 problems until you get sick, and then you just have one. I wanted to call my other 999 problems back. I missed them. I wished I could go back to when I thought there were books besides the Book of Life.
When he was finally listed for his transplant, we were told it would be a matter of weeks, soon, any day now. Days came and days went and he did not get the call. He ended up in the hospital for a week at a time, twice, for relatively minor complications. The doctors told us how sorry they were that he was there. I thought, but did not say, that the more time he spent in the hospital for reasons that weren’t a transplant and recovery, the harder it was to believe that things would ever get better.
On one of those hospital evenings, we asked each other how much more of this we could take. We wondered aloud whether he would ever get his transplant. And then, hours later, he got the call. About a day later, he had his surgery. Eleven hours after the procedure started, the surgeon told me that it was over and that my husband was fine.
For the first week, I waited every day for some surprise piece of bad news to come. The first week turned into a second week, at the end of which he came home. The first few days were very hard — recovery is a long and arduous process — but I watched my husband work his way back into walking again with a cane at one end of the room while, at the other, our son, armed with only a toy lion in each hand and evolutionary instinct, started to take wobbly steps.
I know this is not the end of the story, and I may never stop expecting things to once again become perilous. We are still in the middle and I don’t know how it will end and nobody can tell me. But I also know now that it is no small thing that a story gets to continue.
I have such grief for the year I thought I was going to have and didn’t. I have such jealousy toward people who get to be parents of babies and not have to think about medical crises. And I feel such joy when I think of our son’s playfulness and curiosity and even his stubborn streak and how he gets it from his father.
I don’t really know what I will take with me from this year into the next, but I know that, as we near these High Holidays, I’ve been thinking of the other story of the season: not Abraham and Isaac, but Jonah. I understand the story differently now.
Often people told me that they didn’t know how I was keeping it together. They wouldn’t be able to, they said. But I knew that they would. They would for the same reason I was able to: I had no other choice. I had to for my husband and my son and, yes, for myself. For as long as you’re alive, you have to keep it together, keep pressing forward, keep pushing, pushing, pushing, heaving yourself out of the belly of the giant fish. “You may not like cold water,” my mother told me the night before my husband had his surgery, “But if your boat is sinking, you need to jump and swim.”
We swim. We try to hold onto light in the dark and we wait for joy to come in the morning. Some days, the joy is just that there is another morning. It hurts so much. But to hold onto yourself and each other and jump and swim is also, I think, what it means to be in love, and to care and be cared for. It is, in other words, what it means to be inscribed in the Book of Life.
The post Why I yelled at God on Kol Nidre appeared first on The Forward.
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The Hasidic Rabbi that brings together Jews and Arabs
עס זײַנען דאָ אַזעלכע מענטשן װאָס מע טרעפֿט זײ רעגלמעסיק אױף דער גאַס, אין קאַפֿע, אַרום דער שטאָט. אַזױ איז בײַ מיר און הרבֿ הערשל גליק.
פֿון אױבן אױף, זעט אױס אַז מיר זײַנען גאַנץ אַנדערש, אײנער פֿונעם צװײטן. ער איז אַ חסיד; איך בין אַ ליבעראַלע ייִדישע. ער איז אַ רבֿ; איך בין אַ לערערקע, אַ דראַמאַטורגין און אַן אַקטריסע. פֿון דעסטװעגן, װױנען מיר בײדע אין סטאַמפֿאָרד־היל, דעם „װיליאַמסבורג“ פֿון לאָנדאָן, און אונדזערע קרײַזן דעקן זיך אַ מאָל.
הרבֿ גליק איז אָבער נישט קיין געוויינטלעכער רבֿ. אַחוץ זײַן אַרבעט צוצוציִען ייִדן צו ייִדישקייט פֿירט ער אָן מיטן „אַראַביש־ייִדישן פֿאָרום“ — אַן אָרגאַניזאַציע וואָס ער האָט געגרינדעט אַ יאָר פֿאַר 9/11 — װאָס ברענגט צונויף ייִדן מיט אַראַבער און מוסולמענער, כּדי אויפֿצוהאַלטן גוטע באַציִונגען צווישן זיי. אין 2025 האָט מען אַרויסגעלאָזט אַ נײַעם דאָקומענטאַר װעגן הרבֿ גליקס לעבן און אַרבעט. דעם פֿילם — „װי אַזױ צו לעבן בשלום מיט אַלעמען“ — האָט מען שױן געוויזן אין מיאַמי, אין לאָנדאָן און אין אַנדערע שטעט.
געשמועסט האָבן מיר בײַ אים אין שטוב. אין עסצימער, איז דער טיש אַרומגערינגלט מיט נישט װײניק פּאָליצעס, אָנגעפּאַקט מיט ספֿרים און ביכער. אין גאָרטן, אױפֿן גראָז, געפֿינט זיך אַ קאָמפּלעט הױדלקעס. װען איך בין אַרײַן אין הויז, האָט ער מיר סערװירט אַן ענגליש גלעזל טײ: אַ שװאַרצער „פֿרישטיקס־טײ“ מיט מילך און צוקער, מיט אַ פּאָר קיכעלעך אױף דער זײַט. אין מיטן אונדזער שמועס, זעענדיק אַז איך האָב נאָך נישט פֿאַרזוכט די קיכעלעך, זאָגט ער מיר, מיט אַ שמײכל׃ „זײ זײַנען נישט נאָר אױף צו קוקן!“ דאַן האָב איך זײ יאָ געגעסן, נישט װילנדיק אים באַלײדיקן.
הרבֿ גליק האָט אַ לאַנגע װײַסע באָרד, און ער טראָגט כּסדר אַ שװאַרץ־און־װײַסע קאַפּאָטע מיט אַ שװאַרצן קאַפּל אונטער אַ שוואַרצן הוט. ער האָט ליב צו זאָגן, אַז ער איז אַן עכטער לאָנדאָנער, װײַל ער איז געבױרן געװאָרן אין װעסטמינסטער־שפּיטאָל, נישט װײַט פֿון פּאַרלאַמענט און פֿון באַקינגהאַם־פּאַלאַץ.
בײדע עלטערן זײַנע האָבן געשטאַמט פֿון עסטרײַך. פֿון זײ — און די באָבע־זײדעס װאָס האָבן איבערגעלעבט דעם חורבן — האָט ער זיך אױסגעלערנט אַ מעריבֿ־ייִדיש. אײדער ער איז געװאָרן אַ רבֿ, האָט ער געלערנט אַ צען יאָר אין ישיבֿות אין ברונואַ (לעבן פּאַריז), אין ניו־יאָרק, אין ניו־דזשערזי און אין מאָנטרעאָל.
הרבֿ גליק האָט ליב זיך צו פֿאַרבינדן מיט נײַע מענטשן און נײַע קהילות, און ער איז נישט װײניק אַרומגעפֿאָרן. אין 2019 איז ער געװען דער ערשטער רבֿ װאָס האָט אַ מאָל געהאַלטן אַ רעפֿעראַט אין אַן אוניווערסיטעט אין פּאַקיסטאַן. פֿאַראַיאָרן, שמועסנדיק מיט מיר אױף דער גאַס, האָט ער געפֿרעגט פֿון װאַנען די משפּחה מײַנע קומט. אַז איך האָב מודה געװען אַז איך קען בלויז דעם ייִדישן נאָמען פֿון דער עלטער־באָבנס שטעטל, האָט ער מיך געפֿרעגט וואָס איז דער ייִדישער נאָמען, און גלײַך מיטגעטײלט אַז דאָס שטעטל איז אין הײַנטיקן אוקראַיִנע און אויך װי עס הײסט אױף אוקראַיִניש. סוף־כּל־סוף, האָב איך עס געקענט געפֿונען אױף דער מאַפּע.
בײַם סוף פֿון דער קאָמוניסטישער תּקופֿה אין מזרח־אײראָפּע, האָט ער זיך פֿאַרבונדן מיט דער ייִדישער קהילה, װאָס איז דעמאָלט געווען אין טשעכאָסלאָװאַקײַ. דאָרט האָט ער געפֿונען ייִדן, װאָס האָבן געװאָלט לערנען תּורה און תּלמוד.
„דאָס זײַנען געװען עלטערע ייִדן װאָס האָבן אין די קינדעריאָרן זיך געלערנט אין חדר, אין דער הײם“ — האָט הרבֿ גליק געזאָגט — „און מיט אַ מאָל האָבן זײ געהאַט אַ געלעגנהייט צו לערנען מיטן יונגן דור תּורה.“ צוליב דעם װאָס עס זײַנען נישט געװען קײן משניות אױף טשעכיש, האָט הרבֿ גליק געקױפֿט אַ קאָמפּלעט משניות איבערגעזעצט אויף ייִדיש פֿון שׂימחה פּעטרושקע (1893—1950). אַזױ אַרום, האָבן די װאָס האָבן נישט גוט געקענט לשון־קודש געקענט איבערזעצן יעדע משנה פֿון ייִדיש אױף טשעכיש, און ווײַטער לערנען.
הײַנט צו טאָג איז הרבֿ גליק דער עמערירטער רבֿ פֿון דער שיל „שערי מזל־טובֿ“ (װאַלפֿאָרד־ראָוד), לעבן סטאַמפֿאָרד־היל. פֿאַר דעם איז ער געװען דער רבֿ פֿון דער האַקני־שול, נישט װײַט פֿון יענער געגנט. ער איז אויך געווען דער בעל־הבית פֿונעם באַקאַנטן כּשרן בעקערײַ „פּאַרקװײ.“ זינט 2015 איז ער דער פּרעזידענט פֿון די שומרים פֿון סטאַמפֿאָרד־היל.
װי אַזױ איז אים אײַנגעפֿאַלן צו גרינדן דעם „אַראַביש־ייִדשן פֿאָרום“? נאָכן אַרבעטן אױף עטלעכע פּראָיעקטן װאָס שליסן שלום צװישן לענדער װי איראַן, קוּװײט, איראַק און ישׂראל־פּאַלעסטינע, זאָגט ער, „האָב איך זיך באַקענט און באַפֿרײַנדט מיט אַ סך אַראַבער, מוסולמענער און אַנדערע, אין דעם געגנט. און כ׳האָב געזען אַז מע קען אַרבעטן צוזאַמען — נישט נאָר אַז מע קען, נאָר אַז מע אַרבעט זײער געשמאַק צוזאַמען פֿאַר אַלגעמײנע זאַכן.“
ער האָט אָנגעהױבן טראַכטן פֿון די באַציִונגען צװישן ייִדן, אַראַבער און מוסולמענער אין ענגלאַנד, װוּ ער װױנט.
„מע אַרבעט צוזאַמען, און מע פֿאַרשטײט אײנער דעם צװײטן, און מע העלפֿט אײנער דעם צװײטן, און מע שטיצט אײנער דעם צװײטן,“ האָט הרבֿ גליק געזאָגט. „אָבער כ׳האָב געטראַכט אַז, פֿאָרט, [זײַנען] דאָ ענינים װאָס גראָבן אונטער די גוטע אַרבעט צװישן אונדז. מע דאַרף עפּעס מאַכן — גוטע פֿונדאַמענטן — כּדי אַז די גוטע צוזאַמען־לעבן און די גוטע מיטאַרבעט זאָל װײַטער גײן, בעזרת השם.“
נאָכן דורכרעדן דעם געדאַנק מיט פֿאַרשידענע ייִדישע און מוסולמענישע פֿירער אין לאָנדאָן, איז דער פֿאָרום געגרינדעט געוואָרן אין יאָר 2000.
לױט הרבֿ גליק, האָט דער פֿאָרום דערמעגלעכט בעסערע באַציִונגען צװישן דער מוסולמענישער, ייִדישער און אַראַבישער באַפֿעלקערונג אין לאָנדאָן, ספּעציעל אין און אַרום סטאַמפֿאָרד־היל. „מע גײט דאָ אין גאַס, און מע גײט דאָ אין געגנט — זעט מען נישט נאָר אַז ייִדן און מוסולמענער לעבן גוט אײנער לעבן צװײטן; מיר לעבן גוט אין אײנעם, ב״ה.“
הרבֿ גליק האַלט, אַז כאָטש ס׳איז זיכער דאָ מער אַנטיסעמיטיזם איצט װי פֿאַר די טעראָריסטישע אַטאַקן אויף ישׂראל דעם 7טן אָקטאָבער 2023 און דער מלחמה צווישן ישׂראל און די פּאַלעסטינער, איז נישטאָ קײן פֿאַרגלײַך צװישן אונדזערע צײַטן און די יאָרן פֿון דער נאַציסטישער תּקופֿה.
„װען מע קוקט װי ייִדן לעבן הײַנט, איבער דער גאַנצער װעלט, זײַנען דאָ שװעריקײטן — כ׳װײס פּונקט װאָס קומט פֿאָר, אפֿשר בעסער װי אַנדערע. אָבער איך האָב עלטערן װאָס האָבן מיטגעלעבט די 30ער יאָרן, און איך זאָג אײַך, אָן קײן שום ספֿק, אַז הײַנט איז נישט אַזױ װי אין די 30ער יאָרן.“
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Jon Ossoff romped to a second Senate term. Can he aim higher?
(JTA) — ATLANTA — Sen. Jon Ossoff’s soaring popularity and cruise to reelection last Tuesday have spurred speculation about his political future — and whether he might aim to become the first Jewish president of the United States.
Less than an hour after polls closed on Election Night, he was projected to handily defeat his Republican challenger Mike Collins. With a campaign focused on expanding affordability and fighting corruption, Ossoff built a broad coalition in one of the nation’s most diverse states, even earning endorsements from Republicans. Ultimately, he retained his seat by a margin of 59%-41%.
The leading polling analyst Nate Silver said Saturday that Ossoff was his “slam dunk number one pick” for a Democratic presidential candidate in 2028, despite Ossoff’s insistence that he has “zero interest in running for president.”
Ossoff’s Jewish supporters have expressed pride in his affirmation of Southern Jewish history while leading a state with a fervent Christian population. But other Jewish constituents have said they feel betrayed by his mounting criticism of Israel’s actions in Gaza, and it remains to be seen whether Georgia’s pro-Israel Jews would coalesce around Ossoff if he pursues the country’s highest office.
For Andrew Lewis, there’s no question that Ossoff is a worthy standard-bearer for the Jewish community. A board member of Atlanta’s oldest synagogue, the Temple — where Ossoff had his bar mitzvah — Lewis said the senator frequently cites the Temple’s role in the civil rights movement, a point of pride for Jewish Atlantans. In 1958, white supremacists bombed the Temple because its rabbi, Jacob Rothschild, advocated desegregation and allied with Martin Luther King Jr. Ossoff was sworn into the Senate on Rothschild’s well-worn bible.
“Our Rabbi Rothschild worked with Dr. King and helped shepherd Atlanta’s Jewish community, and our city and nation, through a very different yet equally divisive time,” said Lewis, who also co-founded the interfaith organization First Five Freedoms. “I take a great deal of pride in that, and I see every time Jon Ossoff speaks about it, he takes equal pride.”
Ossoff has said his entry into politics was interning for Rep. John Lewis, the late civil rights giant, which helped spur his career as an investigative documentarian before he ran for office himself.
Ossoff’s fellow Georgian in the Senate, Raphael Warnock, serves as a pastor at King’s former pulpit, Atlanta’s Ebenezer Baptist Church. When Ossoff and Warnock ran at the same time in the 2021 runoff elections for the state’s two Senate seats, they called attention to their rekindling of the Southern Black-Jewish alliance.
Elise Eplan, a former president of the American Jewish Committee chapter in Atlanta, said she appreciated Ossoff’s references to his Jewish identity. Ossoff has said that his father descended from Ashkenazi immigrants and he grew up among relatives who were Holocaust survivors.
“When you grow up in the South, it used to be harder to talk about not being Christian, and being really open about it,” said Eplan. “I have admired the fact that he’s not shied away from that.”
Ossoff during his 2021 run delivered a direct appeal to the state’s Jewish community in the Atlanta Jewish Times, saying that his Jewish upbringing instilled “a conviction to fight for the marginalized, the persecuted and the dispossessed.” He noted to JTA in 2019 that his wife, physician Alisha Kramer, is also Jewish. The couple started dating in high school, according to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
Two years ago, Ossoff faced blowback from Jewish institutions for supporting Sen. Bernie Sanders’ resolutions to block certain weapons sales to Israel. The local Anti-Defamation League Southeast chapter, the Jewish Federation of Greater Atlanta, the American Israel Public Affairs Committee and an array of synagogues said they were “deeply disappointed” by his votes for the resolutions, which did not pass. In 2025 and 2026, he voted for further measures to restrict offensive military aid to Israel, while supporting defensive arms sales.
Ossoff stood by those votes during a debate with Collins last month. He also said he had “no doubt” that Israeli forces committed war crimes in Gaza, deferring the charge of genocide as “a question for the International Criminal Court.”
Michael Morris, the publisher of the Atlanta Jewish Times, accused Ossoff in an open letter of “lying to me and your constituents” about his support for Israel by repeatedly voting against arms sales.
But when Ossoff emerged triumphant on Tuesday, the ADL offered him congratulations — despite denouncing other victorious Israel critics.
ADL Southeast Director Todd Young rebuked Collins, Ossoff’s opponent, for links to white nationalists. “This race also underscored the importance of confronting antisemitism in Georgia politics,” he said in a statement. “Throughout the campaign, serious concerns emerged about individuals close to Mike Collins.”
Collins’ former staffers were accused of posting racist and antisemitic imagery and participating in a white nationalist group chat, while his son-in-law promoted antisemitic conspiracy theories online. Those controversies might have muffled Jewish groups’ objections to Ossoff’s voting record on Israel, according to Rebecca Stoil, a professor of U.S. political history at Clemson University.
“Ossoff, and his candidacy with Jewish voters, was benefited by the clear concerns that Jewish voters had with Collins,” said Stoil, a member of Atlanta’s Jewish community.
In his 2021 campaign, Ossoff accused his then-opponent, Sen. David Perdue, of antisemitic dog whistling after a campaign ad depicting Ossoff with an elongated nose.
Ossoff says that he supports the security of Israelis as well as the safety and security of Palestinians. In a Senate speech in November 2023, he said, “Just as I pray for the freedom of hostages taken so cruelly from their families, as a pro-Israel Jewish American I urge mercy for the innocent civilians in Gaza.”
As a rising left flank of his party presses for the end of the U.S.-Israel alliance, Ossoff continues to define himself as “pro-Israel.” He argued last month that before sending weapons to any ally, the United States should assess “whether that foreign government is acting consistent with our interests, our laws and our values.”
Ossoff’s argument that one can be pro-Israel even while conditioning U.S. aid has been increasingly embraced by the center of the Democratic Party, according to political scientist Dov Waxman. He pointed to surveys that capture a drop in sympathy for Israel among Americans, including American Jews.
A new poll from J Street, a liberal Jewish Middle East policy group, reported that 39% of Jewish voters said defensive aid for Israel should continue with conditions, while 31% said all military aid should end and 30% said aid should continue without conditions. Among Jews under 35, 60% supported severing military aid and said that Israel has committed genocide in Gaza.
Waxman said those trends spelled both parties moving away from traditionally stalwart pro-Israel positions of delivering offensive and defensive aid to Israel with few conditions.
“I think Ossoff’s position is really the mainstream position now in the Democratic Party — the center of gravity,” said Waxman. “Which is to say, a position that broadly supports the continuation of the U.S.-Israel alliance, but is not willing to write a blank check for Israel, and is not willing to support what the Israeli government does unconditionally.”
Eplan, the former AJC leader, said she was initially “concerned” about Ossoff’s votes to block offensive weapons sales in 2024. But three years into Israel’s prosecution of the war in Gaza under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, she said, “I understand it.”
“Unfortunately, under Netanyahu, it has become more and more difficult to be pro-Israel in the way we always have been historically,” said Eplan. “I do think that we need leaders who understand some of the nuance, and who are willing when necessary to take a tough stand, but at the end of the day understand the importance of Israel as our ally and as a Jewish homeland.”
If Ossoff decides to run for president, it would be in a new world of U.S.-Israel relations. Democrats are not alone in increasingly scrutinizing the alliance. Republican Vice President J.D. Vance blamed his party’s crushing defeats in the midterm elections partly on “our relationship to Israel” and the Iran war, which the United States joined with Israel. (Ossoff, like other Democrats across the country, has excoriated Trump for “lying a nation into war” and sending “prices soaring with his warmongering in the Middle East.”)
Trump announced on Election Day that the United States would halt military aid to Israel by the end of 2026, saying that Republicans “suffer the slings” from Democrats over the issue.
“Now it is the policy both of the incumbent administration and of people like Jon Ossoff to limit aid to Israel,” said Stoil. “For voters who did care so much about Israel that it was going to be their basis for voting, the moment it becomes a bipartisan consensus to cut off aid, then you pick what most closely represents you on the other topics.”
Meanwhile, Israel is undergoing its own political change following elections on Oct. 27. The next president of the United States could be dealing with a new Israeli government after Netanyahu’s rival, Gadi Eisenkot, scored enough seats and endorsements from other parties to seek to form a new governing coalition.
Pro-Israel groups in the United States are already retooling for the next stage of relations. Kathy Manning, a former North Carolina congresswoman who chairs the advocacy group Democratic Majority for Israel, hopes that a new Israeli government will pave the way for a renewed alliance that Democrats like Ossoff can support.
“If the current government, Netanyahu and his far-right extremists, continue to be the leaders of Israel, I think that it’s going to be very tough for many Democrats to continue to stand shoulder to shoulder,” said Manning. “If the government of Israel changes and we see a Gadi Eisenkot coalition moving forward, I think that’ll be an opportunity for us to rebuild the U.S.-Israel relationship.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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Socialists plan to ‘break’ the US-Israel alliance after winning big in the midterms
The Democratic Socialists of America is looking to use its growing influence to push for a full arms embargo against Israel and ultimately “break” the longstanding alliance between the U.S. and the Jewish state, party leaders said during a recent post-election organizing call after expanding its presence in Congress to eight members once midterm winners are sworn in.
During the call, Kareem Ellerfi, a member of DSA’s National Political Committee, said the newly elected House members will “ensure that Palestine is not forgotten, it’s not left behind, and that we’re fighting to break the U.S.-Israel relationship.” Ellerfi recently returned from a Palestinian solidarity mission that began in Jordan. The delegation had planned to travel to Ramallah in the West Bank but was detained by Israeli authorities while attempting to cross the border and sent back to Jordan.
The call featured three newly elected members of the House — Chris Rabb of Pennsylvania, Claire Valdez of New York and Angela Gonzalez Torres of California — and DSA organizers who said the election results showed that candidates could win while openly opposing Israel and advocating for Palestinian rights.
“Campaigns like mine showed that moral clarity on the genocide in Gaza and an economic populist agenda would win over voters who stayed home in 2024 or who voted for Donald Trump,” said Valdez, whose district includes parts of Brooklyn and Queens. She said a “free Palestine” was among her top agenda items.
A shifting landscape on Israel
The DSA victories come as American support for Israel faces growing divisions across the political spectrum, including among young Jewish Americans.
A growing number of progressive House members already back ending all U.S. aid to Israel, including funding for Israel’s Iron Dome defense system. Earlier this year, 103 of 212 Democrats supported a measure to eliminate the annual military assistance to Israel and another 10 abstained. Dozens also co-sponsored a pair of measures – the Block the Bombs Act and Ceasefire Compliance Act – that would restrict certain offensive arms sales to Israel and increase oversight of Israel’s policies in the occupied West Bank and in Gaza.
Republicans have also voiced support for phasing out military assistance to Israel and moving toward a relationship in which Israel purchases American weapons without financial assistance. Some Republicans have grown increasingly isolationist during the conflicts with Iran, which some in the party blame on Israel.
On Election Day, President Donald Trump announced that he and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu had agreed to end the roughly $3.8 billion in annual U.S. military aid to Israel by the end of this year — two years before the current 10-year memorandum of understanding expires in Sep. 2028. Secretary of State Marco Rubio said Monday that Israel is “rich enough” to purchase needed weapons.
But DSA leaders made clear that their goals go much further. They want a complete arms embargo and an end to the U.S.-Israel alliance.
The organization quadrupled its presence in the House in Tuesday’s midterm elections, with six new members joining Reps. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York and Rashida Tlaib of Michigan. DSA also celebrated victories in local races, announcing that more than 100 socialists now hold lower-level offices across more than 37 states. Its growing influence includes Los Angeles Mayor-elect Nithya Raman and D.C. Mayor-elect Janeese Lewis George, who join New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani, elected last year.
Among the priorities on the call were forcing a vote on the Block the Bombs Act and challenging Senate Democratic leader Chuck Schumer and House Democratic leader Hakeem Jeffries, both longtime supporters of Israel.
With Democrats holding a sizable majority in the House, DSA members may not have the votes to pass key legislation. But their presence in Congress and alliance with the Progressive Caucus, which has increased to more than 100 members, could give them a louder voice in shaping the party’s future on Israel and U.S. military aid.
Rabb, who made criticism of Israel and opposition to AIPAC central to his congressional campaign, was defiant. “People think that we can’t do what we do,” he said. “And to those people, I say, get the f–k out of the way and let us do what we need to do.”
A post-election survey of 800 Jewish voters, conducted by the Mellman Group for the Jewish Electorate Institute, found that 24% of Jewish Democrats see their party as “becoming too much of a home for socialists and the far left.”
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