Some thoughts on Netanyahu’s speech before Congress – and the Jewish Federation allocations to agencies
By BERNIE BELLAN After just having watched Prime Minister Netanyahu’s speech to Congress, I’m left wondering – as are probably most pundits, just who it was that Netanyahu was trying to reach? There certainly wasn’t anything new in what he had to say. He offered his oft-repeated litany of warnings about the dangers posed by Iran and its surrogates in the Middle East and insisted that Israel will continue its war in Gaza until it has achieved its aims. By now though, Netanyahu has backed down from his initial goal of “totally eradicating” Hamas to instead pressing for the removal of Hamas from power – to be replaced by some sort of Palestinian civilian administration (of course, without even giving a hint of which Palestinians could be expected to form that administration). The timing of Netanyahu’s appearance before Congress was indeed strange. No doubt, he expected to be coming to America when President Biden was still determined to continue his hopeless quest to defeat Donald Trump, so Netanyahu was for sure anticipating that he could coddle up to a soon-to-be-elected President Trump by issuing heaps of praise in his speech for how much Trump had done for Israel. There have been many reports that even Netanyahu – who has bent over backwards to flatter as supreme a narcissist as Donald Trump, had angered Trump when he issued congratulations to President Biden over his winning the 2020 election. (Anyone who refused to go along with Trump’s insistence that the election was stolen ended up on the wrong side of Trump.) Netanyahu’s coming to the US was meant largely to patch up those damaged feelings – especially when until Sunday, July 20, it seemed all but certain that Trump was headed to victory this coming November. Then that darned Biden had to go and throw all of Netanyahu’s calculations into the dumpster. Now, instead of being able to offer a non-stop series of remarks intended to flatter the man who was all but certain headed to a sweeping victory in November, Netanyahu had to modulate his speech to also thank President Biden for the strong support he had shown Israel since October 7. Better to keep one foot in the Democrats’ camp too, Netanyahu realized. Still, will Netanyahu’s speech make any difference at all in the coming US election? Not at all. Anyone who knows Trump understands that he really could care less about the Middle East – unless there’s money to be made for the Trump organization there. What about Trump’s much ballyhooed “deal of the century,” which he kept talking about back when he was President – and on which his son-in-law Jared Kushner was working (quite constructively, I’ll admit) to bring about a larger peace deal that would have included Saudi Arabia, but which also got stuck on the thorny issue of creating a Palestinian state? Is there any likelihood that a Trump administration would want to revisit that plan? Not while Netanyahu and the right-wing fanatics who are keeping him in power are still calling the shots. While the Republican Party is sure to give staunch support to Israel – no matter who is in charge in Israel, what can be said about the Democrats? Kamala Harris is likely to try and steer clear of enunciating any kind of clear policies when it comes to providing support for Israel. Sure, she’ll repeat the standard mantra of America standing behind Israel, but when it comes to translating that policy into concrete action, I expect that Harris will bob and weave. The mere announcement that Biden was dropping his determination to remain in the presidential race – thus leaving the floor clear for Harris to step into the role as candidate, led to a huge torrent of support from among American Jews for Harris. So, if Harris can count on the roughly 80% of American Jews who voted for Biden in 2020 to come around again – what does that mean for her working to gain back some other constituencies who had lost interest in voting for Biden? Are Arab Americans in Michigan – where they form a sizeable group of voters, now likely to return to the Democrat fold? We’ll have to wait for polls to tell us how likely that is – and just how much Harris’s entering the race instead of Biden will have narrowed the fairly large gap that existed between Trump and Biden. I rather tend to think that Harris will be able to continue building momentum and that the 5% of Americans who, to this point, have remained undecided about which presidential candidate they will vote for will largely swing her way. On top of that, large numbers of voters who indicated they would vote for Trump – largely because they found him less unattractive than Biden, will begin to switch over to Harris. And, where does that leave Netanyahu and his Machiavellian calculations? Based on what has happened to date, when he has consistently torpedoed deals that would have led to a cease fire, he is likely simply to procrastinate – which will keep him in good stead with those two right wing fanatics who are propping him up: Smotrich and Ben Gvir.
Switching gears – there will be many interesting stories in the days to come on this website about different members of our Jewish community – both current and former – in particular, stories that Myron Love has written about relatively young members of our community who have stepped up to assume leadership roles, including brothers Harley and Bradley Abells, Jonathan Strauss, and Elena Grinshteyn. (So, if you’re reading this on July 24, keep an eye out for new stories soon to appear.) I have to add a note of caution though – which I’m prone to doing when it comes to discussing the long term health of our Jewish community. And that note emanates from my own report on allocations to the beneficiary agencies of the Jewish Federation in this issue. As I observe in my story about those allocations, while the total amount to be distributed has remained fairly constant the past two years, it is somewhat lower than what it was three and four years ago, and when inflation is taken into account, it is far less than what it was 10 years ago. While the Combined Jewish Appeal has been successful in realizing its goals each year for the past many years, again, when inflation is taken into account, what the community is raising relative to what it raised 10 years ago is far less. But, as I’ve also noted in my reports about the Jewish Foundation each year that it announces the total value of grants it has distributed, it is the Foundation that has been very much stepping into the breech between what the needs of the community are and what has been raised by the Combined Jewish Appeal. This past year the Foundation distributed just under $7 million in grants. That was also approximately how much the Foundation distributed the previous year, but it was a huge increase from just two years prior (2020) when the Foundation distributed a little over $5 million in grants. And, as I reported in the July 3 issue, the Foundation is now committed to distributing 5% of the total value of its investment portfolio next year. Considering that the portfolio is now valued at over $160 million, that means the Foundation is likely to distribute over $8 million in grants in the coming year. Add to that the fact that the Foundation continues to receive a very large number of contributions each year ($5.8 million this past year), and the Foundation has become the bedrock of the financial sustainability of our Jewish community. Where would be without the Jewish Foundation? I’d hate to think.
A little‑remembered Gilded Age millionaire helped make milk safe for American kids through his ‘retail giving’
The 1844 edition of the widely used schoolbook written by William H. McGuffey, “Newly Revised Eclectic Fourth Reader,” includes a dialogue about the difference between “true and false philanthropy”:
Mr. Fantom: I despise a narrow field. O for the reign of universal benevolence! I want to make all mankind good and happy.
Mr. Goodman: Dear me! Sure, that must be a wholesale sort of a job: had you not better try your hand at a town or neighborhood first?
As the discussion continues, the lesson becomes clear. Mr. Fantom’s approach is too ambitious to accomplish much, while Mr. Goodman’s, if narrower in scope, was likely to be more useful in practice.
Nathan Straus made his mark in philanthropy after a successful career running the Macy’s department store. Library of Congress Image by
Many of Straus’ contemporary philanthropists were setting lofty goals for their giving. In oil magnate John D. Rockefeller’s case, it was promoting “the welfare of humanity throughout the world.” For steel tycoon Andrew Carnegie, it was “to promote the advancement and diffusion of knowledge and understanding.”
Straus pursued more mundane objectives that included championing milk pasteurization. Although his efforts are not as well known today as those of his more ambitious – and wealthier – counterparts, they accomplished a lot and showed that what might be called “retail giving” can have far-reaching effects.
Successful immigration story
The Straus family came to the United States from Germany in the 1850s during the first big wave of Jewish immigration. Lazarus Straus, Nathan’s father, followed a familiar path for Jewish immigrants at the time, beginning as a peddler and eventually establishing his own store in the small town of Talbotton, Georgia, where the members of his family were the only Jews.
He prospered, became a respected citizen and saw that his children received good educations, including in their religion.
Then the Civil War upended the family’s life, first by reviving antisemitic prejudices and then, eventually, by destroying the family’s business.
Starting anew in New York City, Lazarus and his older sons, Isidor and Nathan, began to sell imported china, glassware and other crockery to retailers in the Northeast and South. One was Rowland H. Macy, who had founded an eponymous store that was on the cutting edge of what Fisher calls a “retailing revolution.”
Macy’s innovations included stocking large inventories of many kinds of merchandise, competitive pricing, extensive advertising and providing a variety of services like public restrooms and a cafeteria to make shoppers’ experiences more pleasurable.
Aided by the rapid urban and economic growth of the late 19th century, the model flourished. Department stores displaced smaller, specialty shops. Other retail powerhouses, such as Bloomingdale’s and Lord & Taylor, soon competed with Macy’s.
The Straus family sold their wares at Macy’s. After Rowland H. Macy died, the Straus family became partners with its new owners. By 1896, the Strauses owned the store outright. And Macy’s was expanding: It bought another department store in Brooklyn and created a flagship building on Manhattan’s Herald Square, which Macy’s still occupies.
The landmark Macy’s department store in New York’s Herald Square opened in 1902 while Nathan and Isidor Straus ran the retailer. Library of Congress Image by
His philanthropy journey begins
While Isidor Straus oversaw the store’s internal operations, Nathan focused on the company’s external activities, such as purchasing, marketing and dealing with government and business leaders.
A third brother, Oscar, pursued a career as a politician and diplomat, eventually becoming secretary of commerce and labor under President Theodore Roosevelt and the first Jewish member of a presidential cabinet. Perhaps inevitably, this led to a series of public appointments for Nathan Straus.
However, as they became wealthier, Nathan and his wife, Lina, increasingly devoted their attention to a series of philanthropic projects.
In 1893, the U.S. entered a four-year economic depression, its worst until the 1930s. As unemployment in New York City rose, Nathan Straus used his merchandising skills to address the needs of the jobless and poor.
He created a number of “depots” near tenements and boarding houses that sold coal, food and fuel at discount prices. Fisher, Straus’ biographer, rightly calls these early examples of what is now known as “social entrepreneurship”: the application of business principles to solving social problems.
Making milk less deadly
As these efforts were getting away, Straus also launched what would become his major preoccupation: promoting pasteurized milk.
In New York City in the early 1890s, Fisher writes, “the annual mortality rate among children under five was about 15 percent,” or 18,000 infants and toddlers per year. A main cause was consuming raw milk, which, unless certified by inspectors, was likely not only to contain a variety of pathogens, such as tuberculosis bacteria, but spoil easily going from farm to table.
Although scientists had long known that heating could make milk safer, doctors and public health officials worried that sterilizing milk might also destroy its valuable nutrients.
Straus, who had lost one of his own children to what he believed was a milk-borne infection, built on his projects for the unemployed by working with New York social service agencies to develop pasteurization plants and infant-milk stations near low-income neighborhoods.
They sold sterilized and refrigerated milk at below-wholesale prices, or donated it to those who could not afford to pay. Businesslike efficiency kept costs low, as did donations. Multilingual ads publicized the product’s availability, doctors and nurses advised parents on child-rearing, and careful recordkeeping aimed at assessing the program’s health benefits.
Straus and his wife devoted much of their time and money to this work. In addition to establishing 297 milk stations in 36 cities, they also spoke and wrote widely about the merits of pasteurization.
By 1908, their efforts paid off when the U.S. Public Health Service endorsed pasteurization and state and local governments began requiring that milk sold in their jurisdictions be pasteurized. Raw milk remained available in many states, and debates over its safety continue to this day.
As a result of this and other Progressive Era measures, New York City’s health commissioner estimated that infant deaths dropped by two-thirds
during the first two decades of the 20th century, with similar declines elsewhere in the country.
The coastal Israeli city of Netanya was named after philanthropist Nathan Straus. Jack Guez/AFP via Getty Images Image by
Other causes
While most of Nathan Straus’ efforts occurred in the U.S., he used his trips to Europe for Macy’s to promote pasteurization on the continent.
During a 1904 visit, he toured the Mediterranean and stopped in Palestine, then part of the Ottoman Empire. Impressed by the early Jewish settlements and holy sites he saw, Straus became an ardent advocate for creating a Jewish homeland in the Middle East, an unusual position for a Jewish businessman of that era, according to Fisher.
On a subsequent trip, a broken leg kept Straus from returning to New York on the maiden voyage of the Titanic; his brother Isidor and sister-in-law Ida were not so fortunate.
In the U.S., Nathan Straus led Zionist organizations, while in Palestine, his chief contributions involved supporting a variety of health care and economic development activities, including Hadassah, the women’s health and community development organization founded by Henrietta Szold.
Nathan Straus’ achievements as a philanthropist are not widely known today because he did not create a grantmaking foundation that outlasted him, as Rockefeller and Carnegie did.
Instead, by the time of his death in 1931, Straus had donated much of his fortune. Fisher writes that Straus used to invoke an old Hebrew proverb: “Money given in health is gold. Money given in sickness is silver. Money given after death is lead.”
He also didn’t donate heavily to the burgeoning network of communal organizations set up to assist the growing population of Jewish immigrants, as did the financiers Jacob Schiff and Felix Warburg, who were also affluent Jewish immigrants from Germany.
As Fisher notes, this pattern of philanthropy resembles that of Straus’ friend – and pallbearer – Julius Rosenwald, the longtime head of Sears, Roebuck and Co. Both supported Jewish causes as well as major initiatives aimed at helping others: In Rosenwald’s case, it was schools for African American children in the South, while for Straus, it was milk pasteurization in New York City and beyond.
During and after World War I, they worked together to assist Jewish refugees in Europe. Fisher might have added that neither Straus nor Rosenwald sought much recognition for their work.
His thorough account should help give Straus the credit he deserves for his philanthropy. It should also show that donors do not have to aspire to “make all mankind good and happy” to make an important difference.
In many ways, Nathan Straus was an old-fashioned do-gooder, responding to the needs he saw with innovative solutions. As a result, he wound up accomplishing a lot of good.
“Emma,” a young Jewish woman who we met in 2019, didn’t belong to a synagogue. She didn’t have a Jewish partner. She didn’t observe Jewish rituals regularly. On most surveys about religion, she would not seem very engaged with Judaism.
But as Emma talked about what she did in her free time, a very different picture began to emerge. She visited Jewish websites and enjoyed listening to Jewish music. She read books about Jewish topics and had recently attended a retreat for young Jewish adults to learn Torah while also doing yoga.
She was highly invested in learning about Judaism, but she explored her identity without joining traditional institutions.
Most major surveys about religion ask whether someone belongs to a congregation, how often they attend services, whether they pray regularly and whether belief is important in their lives. Those measures help identify broad shifts, like the growing percentage of Americans who are religiously unaffiliated: the “nones.”
But many Americans’ religious lives, like Emma’s, are not disappearing; they are moving away from membership of traditional institutions. To understand what religion looks like in 21st-century America, researchers may need to ask different questions.
Learning through art
As scholars of Judaismand education, we have been exploring how people learn about religion beyond traditional places like synagogues, Jewish schools and summer camps. Between 2019 and early 2023, we spoke with hundreds of people and explored different leisure time activities to discover what people learn about Judaism and Jewishness through cultural arts.
We interviewed dozens of audience members at Jewish-themed shows on Broadway, such as “Leopoldstadt”and “Parade.” We attended Jewish concerts and asked attendees what they learned. We explored how social media communities offer spaces to talk about different Jewish topics, like what fans learned about ultra-Orthodox Judaism from watching the television show “Shtisel.”
‘Shtisel,’ an Israeli series about an ultra-Orthodox family in Jerusalem, ran for three seasons.
Our research revealed that there is a vibrant ecosystem of people learning about religion in their leisure time. Through the arts, both Jews and non-Jews encounter Jewish history, Jewish religious practices and representations of Jewish communities.
Screen and stage
Most people we spoke with told us that they felt meaningful connections to Judaism during activities that would rarely appear on a standard religion survey.
“Joan,” an unmarried woman in her 50s from Connecticut, told us that she was deeply invested in Judaism, but felt that synagogues and Jewish community centers were not welcoming to single people without families. Instead of joining a Jewish institution, she watched Jewish-themed TV shows and movies on Netflix, and joined social media communities to chat with other fans.
“Luis,” who lived in Boston but was born in Argentina, was a Sephardic Jew, a group that traces their ancestry and traditions to Jewish communities who once lived in Spain and Portugal. His wife was Ashkenazi, meaning her ancestors came from Central and Eastern Europe. She considered herself secular, and so the couple joined the Worker’s Circle, a nonreligious Ashkenazi institution rather than a synagogue.
Yet Luis loved deepening his knowledge of Sephardic culture, and he often attended concerts of music in Ladino, a Sephardic language related to Spanish, with other Sephardic immigrants.
American singer Sarah Aroeste writes and performs in Ladino.
For Joan and Luis, these activities were not peripheral to their Jewish lives. Rather, they were central avenues for learning and community. We interviewed hundreds of Jews who told us that cultural experiences were opportunities to reflect on Jewish practices, explore questions of belonging, connect with family histories and find friends with common interests.
New questions
Some aspects of these patterns were distinctive to Judaism. Historically, many Jews have understood Judaism to be a cultural world, and not only a theological tradition. Learning about cultural dimensions of Judaism has long been part of Jewish education.
The broader phenomenon of informal learning, though, extended far beyond a single tradition. Across America, increasing numbers of people learn about religion through media, cultural productions and digital networks. Christians may study biblical themes through podcasts, online discussion groups or religious influencers. Muslims may participate in online learning communities that connect believers across the world.
The challenge for religion researchers, then, is not simply to determine whether engagement with religion is rising or falling. Rather, it is to develop more nuanced ways of understanding how people explore religious themes and practices, beyond traditional institutions. Only then can we more fully understand how contemporary Americans actually live their religious lives.
