The Shvesters share their rendition of a poignant Yiddish song Vi Iz Dus Gesele, Where is the little street? A song of longing, nostalgia, and lost love.
It is a way to help us perhaps enter this Shabbat. Given the current turmoil, we seek a better time. May we work to see that time come soon.
Wishing you Shabbat Shalom.
We are horrified that Temple Beth Israel in Jackson, MS, was firebombed. It is a violent act of hatred targeting Jews. As antisemitism continues, we find ourselves vulnerable and seeking support.
The community of Jackson, MS, has rallied around its Jewish community in wonderful ways. Many of us, however, feel abandoned by others across the country who have not expressed support for their local Jewish communities amid escalating threats. This is counterproductive, creating divisions and exacerbating tensions where they should not be.
Sadly, there is too much violence and hatred. It is impossible to respond to every incident. The Jewish communities could not meet that standard either. We would spend substantial time issuing statements of outrage and comfort instead of devoting ourselves to the important work of uniting against these blights and working toward changes in our society to create a safer space for all.
Too many understand the pain, often through lived experience. We need solidarity and action, not just words.
With the increasing violence in public spaces, maybe the answer is yes. What should I do about it? I could cower; many people have said they remove their Jewish symbols, like a Chai or Magen David, because they fear being targeted.
I have been wearing a kippah for many years, and since the war started, I wear a kippah with the Israeli flag and the words “Am Yisrael Chai” stenciled inside. I am proud to show who I am and what I stand for. But does it come with any risks?
My kippah has actually been an invitation for people from all walks of life to approach me. At a Costco, on a turnpike rest stop, or while walking on the street, people offer words of encouragement and support. Most people are decent folks. Most are not looking to harm others; they are living their lives and caring for their loved ones, just as I strive to do.
We must not allow acts of violence from uncontrolled radicals to control us. Those responsible for protecting us face a significant challenge, and a system based on freedom rather than repression often leaves them a step behind in safeguarding our rights and safety. They require additional support to perform this vital work. We can help.
We need to get out, gather, socialize, and connect with others. We don’t have to agree, but we must show we care. We need each other. The hateful rhetoric shouldn’t be fought with more hate, but by reaching out, creating, and living in the society we believe in.
My kippah is a symbol and a call to the people I meet that our humanity continues to thrive. That is the kind of target I strive to be.
What are we really trying to say?
Shylock is an antisemitic character, a villainous figure in William Shakespeare’s play The Merchant of Venice. He has come to represent a usurious moneylender, and for a gangster, he’s the guy who ruthlessly takes that pound of flesh through loan repayment terms. And for someone familiar with the play, it’s an intentional insult and antisemitic. But then comes Donald Trump.
Trump is not known for his soaring oratory. Arguably, this is intentional, as he presents himself as a man of the people. He uses straightforward language that everyone can understand. To his audience, Shylock means a usurious moneylender.
Does Trump understand the back story? Probably. But he rarely seeks nuance. He simplifies complex issues and makes statements in ways that his supporters can understand. He also uses the righteous anger of certain groups as a political weapon. The “hair on fire” moments he creates distract from other topics. It’s 24/7 constant outrage, nonstop. And it’s exhausting. That’s also a tool he uses.
How we handle this depends on the outcome we’re aiming for. As an exceptional teacher of mine once said, “If you are a hammer, everything looks like a nail.”
If you want to clarify the situation, you could quietly approach Donald Trump and respectfully point out the offense caused by sharing the history of the word. If your goal is to criticize his insensitivity and provoke the anger of those offended by such remarks, both Jewish and non-Jewish alike, you would create the controversy currently underway in certain circles. It all depends on what you aim to accomplish.
Likely, he knew. However, it could have been a slip of the tongue. He is known for using a stream-of-consciousness style in his remarks. He has advisors who would have counseled him afterward. But even if it was a slip, Trump does not apologize; he moves forward. To quote the play, “I am not bound to please thee with my answers.” Calling Trump out in public to disparage him accomplishes little for anyone, except Donald Trump.
Words have power. That is a core belief of my tradition. But in a world where things are happening at a fever pitch both here and abroad, focusing on this word has taken precious attention away from discussing all those critical issues.
We need to be more careful in our word choice and what we want our words to accomplish.
What does it take for fear to be overcome by courage? To dare, to risk, and to fight for what you believe in rather than cower?
The recent Torah portion Shlach begs these questions. Shlach, translated as “Send,” narrates the story of the 12 spies. As you recall, the unit was dispatched on a reconnaissance mission to survey Canaan. They returned with tales of a bountiful land, but one inhabited by giants, making it seem impossible to conquer. Only Caleb and Joshua believed that the Israelites could be victorious, but they were overruled.
Fear gripped the spies; the Giants were too formidable, and their fear raised paralyzing questions. Perhaps they thought—we could live without realizing the promise of the land; maybe we could make do in Mitzrayim or confined spaces. The reticence of these people exploited the vulnerabilities of this nascent nation. They defeated themselves before they were ever tested. Their doubt in themselves, their destiny, their values, and indeed their God meant that this entire generation of recently freed people needed to be replaced by those whose spirit and strength were forged by the trials and tribulations of the harsh Midbar or desert. This spirit and strength are the answers to my initial question: what does it take to overcome fear with courage?
With this strength and spirit, you know in your heart that what you possess and believe is worth fighting for and to have enough faith and courage to take the next step even into the unknown. At the same time, you remain true to your values and morals despite the horrors of warfare, facing the battle with bravery yet not losing your soul in the fog of war.
Now is the time for us moderns to embrace these lessons. More than ever in our recent history, we need to lean into our values — the things we love deeply enough to champion and fight for.
For Israel, the boldness and cunning displayed—from exploding pagers and covert Mossad agents to an aggressive air strike aimed at preemptively striking Iran, a country whose nuclear ambitions threaten Israel—are significant. It is crucial to understand that waiting and hoping, along with economic sanctions, are not always the correct responses. However, it is also necessary to honestly recognize that the costs of this fight will be high, both in lives and resources. Staying morally superior during battles against a stubborn enemy has been especially difficult during the war in Gaza.
And just like there, we face challenges here as well. Domestic rabid Jew-hatred must unite us. We must stand up for our right to live freely, securely, and safely in the United States, a land of great abundance and blessings. We will not cower in silence or fear.
This is the time to stand up and defend our values because this is our home. To those who hate Jews or anyone labeled as “the other,” we fight for the fundamental rights that form the foundation of this great country, both for ourselves and everyone else, to protect the principles of equality, justice, and liberty. The hopes of our people and our traditions are at risk, but we cannot back down.
As Americans and Jews, much is at stake. Indeed, maybe everything is at stake. The fear of the unknown cannot silence us, nor can it allow us to disregard our sacred values and act with impunity against perceived threats. By standing together and believing in ourselves, each other, and the sacredness of our tradition’s values, we will be strong, and we will prevail—Chazak v’Umatz, strength, and courage.
Barukh atah adonai eloheinu melekh ha’olam asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu la’asok betzorkhei tzibur.
Blessed is the Eternal One who commands us to work on behalf of the needs of our community.
Amen
Rabbi Adrienne and I first met at Temple Micah years ago when we shared the High Holidays there in Lawrenceville, NJ. It was wonderful to see her again at the United for Security Emergency Leadership Mission in Washington, D.C., last week. Our smiles show the joy of reconnecting, but they also mask the urgent issues facing the American Jewish community. This is a time for us to come together, setting aside denominational differences, and recognizing that we are all part of the larger community of Am Yisrael. This national fly-in was to advocate on the Hill for increased funding for security and a commitment to
fighting Antisemitism.
We hope our advocacy efforts helped Congress and the Senate understand the unacceptable risks to our community and encouraged them to take action to protect us from those who mean us harm.
I am reeling from the attacks on my fellow Jews here in the United States. I struggle to understand the apparent fight against anti-Semitism by targeting institutions like Harvard, which seems to provoke a backlash. It appears that Jew-hatred has been normalized enough for these miscreants to heed the words that sanction violent acts. Recent horrific attacks on Jews leave us wondering if we are safe. What should we do?
LEAN IN
I take pride in my heritage, the values of my tradition, and the prophetic call to make the world a better place. I connect with people who share my beliefs, and I also reach out to those who do not. I stand up for what I believe and engage in conversation with others.
I will proudly defend my identity, including that of an American who upholds the aspirations of our founding documents and the struggle for equality, justice, and liberty.
Now is not the time to cower in fear but to realize that many others are like me, seeking a safe and secure world for our children, believing in something greater than myself, and understanding that the “other” is not a threat; they are just someone I have yet to know. It can be scary and difficult to do.
I attend my synagogue. If you haven’t done so recently, now is a great time to find community. And there are so many causes that demand our attention, for our charge is to make the world a better place. It is more important than ever to fulfill our mission. There is strength in numbers, and besides our Jewish community, we have many allies.
I am a Jew; I am an American. I fight for the causes I believe in because they are righteous and good. Join me and Lean In.
We approach Shabbat with heavy hearts, mourning the loss of two young people, Sarah and Yaron.
Sophie Milman performs Eli, Eli, the poem of Hannah Senesh. May we find peace this Shabbat, for us and everyone.
Shabbat Shalom
#BringThemHomeNow
We mourn the tragic deaths of Sarah Milgrim and Yaron Lischinsky
murdered outside last night’s AJC event.
I had the honor of moderating a conversation for the New Israel Fund (NIF) at Beth Am Israel, located on the Main Line in suburban Philadelphia.
Our speakers, Rabbi Noa Sattath and Libby Linkenski are dedicated to fostering a shared society that upholds our Jewish values. Our values endure, even in challenging times like these, when they are stressed and tested as rarely before in our history. Indeed, our values are more important than ever for maintaining perspective. Libby shared three points to remember as we navigate these difficult times:
Palestinians are not Hamas. Israelis are not Benjamin Netanyahu. Americans are not Donald Trump. We are more than the actions of our extremist leaders and are not directly complicit in their worst acts.
The conflict didn’t begin on October 7, and October 7 itself was indefensible. So is the ongoing assault on the people of Gaza. We can’t lose our moral clarity, regardless of politics.
Two peoples have always existed between the river and the sea, and both will continue to exist. Any vision that erases one side is a vision of unimaginable violence. The question is not whether we coexist but how. That’s where the conversation begins—and where it must end.
We must continue working to lay the foundation for a future where both people can live with dignity and security.
