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February 14, 2025

Fighting Antisemitism by Loving America

The classic response to antisemitism has always been education. Given widespread ignorance, the conventional wisdom is that education is the best remedy for the world’s oldest hatred.

That makes sense, until it doesn’t.

The thing about education is that we can control what we teach but we can’t control how people will react to what we teach.

If, for example, people today see Jews as beneficiaries of “white privilege,” will it make much difference to learn that Jews have been persecuted throughout history? When we teach people about the 6 million Jews who perished in the Holocaust, might they be quietly thinking, “Aren’t you people grateful that you’re much safer and so successful now?”

We believe in teaching the evil of antisemitism and its uniqueness, but how do we know this won’t reinforce a nefarious stereotype?

“To antisemites of every variety — be they left-wing, right-wing, Islamists, and yes, blacks — Jews aren’t merely the ‘other,’” Jonathan Tobin writes in JNS. “They are in the crosshairs to be despised and subjected to singular prejudice and discrimination, no matter their age, background, what they do or where they reside.” 

Those are painful truths Jews know all too well, but for the average person who thinks innocently, “People don’t just hate for no reason,” how do we know these truths won’t backfire and trigger more animosity?

We naturally assume that the truth always wins out, but not all truths are created equal. In the fight against Jew-hatred, some truths are more powerful than others.

In recent years, we’ve done a great job exposing the truth of the rise in antisemitism. We’ve told America, in so many words, that more and more Americans hate Jews. How are people supposed to react to that? What have you guys been doing to deserve all this? If we hate you so much, does that mean you hate us back?

The point is: It’s not what we say that counts, it’s what people take away.

For all we know, when we teach people that Jew-hatred is so ancient and pervasive, some may wonder if being hated is what makes Jews special. Indeed, our intense efforts to expose Jew-hatred may have unwittingly rebranded and reduced the Jewish people to merely a target — worthy only of hate.

This violates the crucial truth that most Americans are especially fond of Jews. According to the latest Pew research, more Americans hold favorable views of Jews than any other religious group. When did that truth ever make it into our education?

The focus on hate also ignores the crucial truth that Jews love America. In the heat of partisan battles, it’s easy to overlook that independent of politics, Jews have a long and rich history of engaging with and giving back to this country.

Why is this Jewish love for America such an effective weapon in the fight against antisemitism? Because, for starters, love itself is a winning idea.

Here’s a thought experiment: If you know that someone loves you and wants what’s best for you, what is the likelihood that you will hate that person? Similarly, if people know that the great majority of Jews love America and want what’s best for the country, and feel a sense of shared values, isn’t it more likely that this will attract more support?

The more that Americans see Jews as proud Americans, and not just proud Jews, the more they will defend us against Jew-haters. The more they see us as helping revive America and the American Dream, the more they will rally to our side.

Helping America helps Jews. Instead of looking like victims, we look like patriots. Instead of looking like complainers, we look like helpers. Yes, we must seek legal protection against haters, but we’re not here only to take. We’re also here to help. That is our tradition. That is who we are.

Of course, the usual ways that we fight antisemitism— exposing the hate, fighting the haters, correcting the lies and teaching about antisemitism — are ingrained in our activist culture and are here to stay. But after so many years of doing the same thing and investing so much in the same tools, it’s fair to ask why things seem to only get worse.

Maybe it’s time to add a bigger idea to our activism that promotes the special Jewish bond with America. Being lovers of this great nation as a people that continues to give back is a powerful truth – one that can isolate Jew-haters while also maximizing our supporters.

If we’re going to talk education, that is one hell of a takeaway.

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In Michael Weingrad’s “Eugene Nadelman,” Eugene Onegin Plays Spin the Bottle at a Bar Mitzvah and Hilarity Ensues

One year, at the intense and highly competitive quiz night at the conference for the Association for Jewish Studies (we academic types really know how to party), I wrote the wrong answer to the literary softball question: “Who wrote ‘To be a Jew in the 20th Century’?” The answer was Muriel Rukeyser. (My office is now next door to a Rukeyser expert, and I’ll never forget it!). The quizmaster, a fellow literary scholar, castigated me. How could I call myself a scholar of Jewish American writing and not know who wrote the poem?

The problem was this: I never read poetry.

A couple of months ago, I was asked to review a book in verse and found myself about to say no. Since studying the standard Chaucer/Shakespeare/Donne/Herbert/Marvell/Milton in university, I have picked up exactly one book of verse: Rupi Kaur’s “Milk and Honey.” I have in my head the idea that I just don’t “get” poetry like I don’t “get” cetology (which put me off reading “Moby Dick” for many years, but, alas, that’s another story).

But wow, did I love Michael Weingrad’s “Eugene Nadelman: A Tale of the 1980s in Verse.” It is hilarious. If, unlike me, you’re a big fan of poetry, come to it for the form: Weingrad assiduously applies Alexander Pushkin’s iambic tetrameter and rhyme scheme of AbAbCCddEffEgg throughout the book. According to the book’s narrator, who, like Pushkin’s narrator in “Eugene Onegin,” is far more knowing than the protagonist and interrupts the story regularly, he is not the first to make such an attempt. He cites Indian author Vikram Seth (“The Golden Gate,” 1986) and Israeli author Maya Arad (“Another Place, A Foreign City,” 2003) as those who have successfully employed Pushkin’s rhyme scheme in their novels, admitting, “others have used Alexander/Sergeivich Pushkin’s elegant/Design with more accomplishment.” Nonetheless, the author/narrator of “Eugene Nadelman” has one advantage over his literary peers: He is more religious about Pushkin’s “regular iambic trot.” As the lines above attest, he is religious about them even when they result in abrupt line endings (“elegant”), making the book rather a challenge to read aloud (though maybe not for the more poetically inclined). But that’s only one of the ways the poetry is playful. Expect the narrator to break the fourth wall, sneak in an ode to his brother, and provide readers with a “do-it-yourself sonnet” (he gives you prompts).

If, like me, you appreciate funny Jewish stories and nostalgia for the ’80s, when the country was divided less on blue and red than Beta or VHS, Casey Kasem’s voice reigned supreme, and Saturday morning cartoons were the shul of a generation, do do do come to this book for the content! Very loosely following the plot of Pushkin’s “Eugene Onegin”—there’s a girl, there’s a duel, there’s a breakup—“Eugene Nadelman” showcases a hero who is a super-nerdy Dungeons & Dragons and Castle Wolfenstein-loving kid who, during a game of Spin the Bottle at a cousin’s bar mitzvah, meets the girl of his dreams. To show off his prowess and impress said girl, he enters a duel (in D&D, obviously—we are treated to a long passage within the game). The duel is with one of his BFFs, and it ruins their friendship. Then he’s off to sleepaway camp, apart from his girlfriend, who warns: “You’d hate it, Gene. The food is crappy./The other kids are kind of JAP-y.” Under the watchful eye of madrichim, eating at the chadar ochel, playing Holocaust games (“At one point counselors are enlisted/To dramatize the Jewish plight/And chase them through the woods at night”), Eugene makes a foolish decision. As to what happens as a result, you’ll have to read the book to find out.

Weingrad is a true talent, and this book is a joy. I ate up the reflections on Jewish life, adolescent angst and fickleness, and the vivid depictions of Philadelphia and summer camp. I found the insertions of Hebrew and Yiddish words and phrases clever and unintrusive, and the snide remarks from the future (“Just wait until the internet,” he says of/to the teenagers discovering the curtained-off section at the back of the video store) in perfect proportion to the ’80s narrative. It’s possible Weingrad has converted me into a lover of verse!


Karen Skinazi, Ph.D. is Associate Professor of Literature and Culture and the director of Liberal Arts at the University of Bristol (UK) and the author of “Women of Valor: Orthodox Jewish Troll Fighters, Crime Writers, and Rock Stars in Contemporary Literature and Culture.”

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Chosen Links by Boaz – Ep 10: Intersecting Identities: The Voice of Black Jews

I had a phenomenal conversation with these seven Black Jews and my co-moderator Nate Looney. First question was actually, do you even LIKE that label in the first place, and unsurprisingly, their answers were varied.

As with all of my episodes, the conversation was interesting, and a mixture of seriousness as well as laughter. I learned plenty, and hope you’ll take the time to watch or listen! Always available on Youtube and most podcast sites!

The participants:

Nate Looney

Elisheva Rishon

Ashira Solomon

Rachel Moon

Dr. Yehudah Pryce

Biggah

Chaya Lev

April Powers

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The Unbreakable Freedom Of Shabbat

It is quite uncomfortable to explain Shabbat observance to an outsider. To tell a complete stranger that you cannot so much as press an elevator button will, for the most part, elicit vacant stares. Shabbat, when defined by what cannot be done, sounds absurdly restrictive.

Critics like to dwell on the disabilities Shabbat places on Jews. Elliott Horowitz, in his article Fourth and Long: Presenting (and Resenting) the Sabbath, notes how Shabbat observance was ridiculed by both non-Jewish and Jewish authors, and any leniencies, such as eruv, mocked. The Halakha, the religious laws of Shabbat, were seen as convoluted, and oft-criticized by Christian professors of theology. Samuel Rolles Driver of Oxford, in the early 20th-century Dictionary of the Bible, wrote that the Rabbis of  the Mishnah and Talmud had “developed and systematized (the laws of the Sabbath) to an extent which has made their rules on the subject a byword for extravagance and absurdity.” This contrasts with his description of the Christian Sunday, which, according to Driver “operated on a whole with wonderful efficiency in maintaining a life of pure and spiritual religion.”

Jewish authors took exception to these descriptions of Shabbat. Solomon Schechter offered a powerful response:

Although this day is described by almost every modern writer in the most gloomy colors, and long lists are given of the minute observances connected with it, easily to be transgressed, which would necessarily make of the Sabbath, instead of a day of rest, a day of sorrow and anxiety…. But, on the other hand, the Sabbath is celebrated by the very people who did observe it…as a day of rest and joy, of pleasure and delight, a day in which man enjoys some presentiment of the pure bliss and happiness which are stored up for the righteous in the world to come and to which such tender names were applied as the “Queen Sabbath,” the “Bride Sabbath,” and the “Holy, dear, beloved Sabbath.”

Somebody, either the learned Professors, or the millions of the Jewish people, must be under an illusion. Which it is I leave to the reader to decide.

Yet even those who grow up as Shabbat observant Jews know its challenges. The rush to leave work on Friday and prepare for Shabbat is at times overwhelming; for ambitious executives, being left out of weekend retreats may mean that the path to promotion is blocked.  As Karen Barrow put it, the intense pace of short winter Fridays made her wonder “whether keeping the Sabbath is making my life better or just harder…Shabbat certainly complicates life in a secular world.” Shabbat observance is not simple; there are real restrictions and true inconveniences.

Like many observant Jews, Ms. Barrow is confounded by a day of rest that is nothing at all like a vacation. This touches on a puzzle at the center of Shabbat. Is it about human greatness or human limitations? Is it a God-centered day, where we stand humbly in awe before God’s creation, or a human-centered day of rest, to allow us to recharge?

Actually, it is both. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch explains that although man is given by God dominion over the earth and all living beings, man must not let this power degenerate into megalomania; Shabbat is meant to keep mankind grounded. Hirsch writes:

…The earth and the host of its beings were surrendered to this free government of man. What was there to safeguard the world against man? What safeguard that man …would not look upon the world, which had been entrusted to him to govern according to God’s will, as his own property?… Behold! God crowned his work with the seventh day of creation, the first of human activity, …. that through it man should be continually reminded of his appointment by God in God’s world to be God’s servant.

Hirsch points out that Shabbat is the first day after man’s creation; man is created on the sixth day, and Shabbat is the seventh day. Shabbat in effect becomes the first day of the human week, and before man pursues his own ambitions, he must first remember that “The earth is the Lord’s, and all that is in it.” (Psalm 24:1). Shabbat puts the rest of the week in perspective.

A different understanding of Shabbat is found in the commentary of Rabbi Ovadiah Seforno. Shabbat commemorates God’s creation of the world in six days and resting on the seventh; but it is unclear to what end man was commanded to rest on the very same day as God. Seforno offers an explanation based on the concept of Tzelem Elokim, that man is created in the image of God. Man is both similar to God, and capable of imitating God; and if God rests on the seventh day, man should too. Seforno writes that “the intention behind this commandment is that a person should resemble their Creator as much as possible—through contemplation, study, and desirable actions.”

We must know our potential. We can reach remarkable spiritual heights. We are God-like, and rest on God’s day of rest.

These two interpretations seem very different; but they actually complement each other. Mankind is capable of true greatness; but not if left to his own devices. Unchecked, human creativity can become demonic, unmoored from morality. In the course of history, new technologies have frequently been used first in the service of warfare; swords are the priority while plowshares an afterthought. And even “harmless” inventions like smartphones and social media can erode the human spirit, and leave us doomscrolling into pure emptiness.

Without limits, humanity will fail. By stepping back and recognizing God as the creator of the world, we learn how to be the best possible version of ourselves. It is only then that we truly deserve to be called B’Tzelem Elokim. The limitations of Shabbat free our souls to see the bigger picture.

Shabbat is fundamentally a day of freedom. One must free their servants, and even animals, from work on Shabbat; the Shabbat is a reminder “that you were a slave in the land of Egypt”, and serves as a weekly reenactment of the passage to freedom. Here, these two perspectives, of Hirsch and Seforno, work together; the Pharaohs of the world need to remember their limitations, and the slaves of the world must remember their potential.

Freedom is based on two different insights: the master is not a God, and the slave is God’s beloved child, created in the image of God. Shabbat represents both ideas.

Shabbat’s inner freedom has sustained Jews throughout their history. The poet Heinrich Heine, in his poem “Princess Shabbat”, depicts the downtrodden 19th-century Jew who is treated like a dog during the week, but transformed by Shabbat into a prince. Jewish life could be bitter at times, but Shabbat allowed Jews to see themselves through a different lens, as noble inheritors of an ancient tradition. Ahad Ha’am expressed it best: “More than Jews have kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jews.” This is why, despite economic sacrifices, Jews looked forward to Shabbat as a refuge from discrimination and adversity.

For generations of Jews, the Shabbat represented an unbreakable freedom. They knew every new Pharaoh was a phony, and that no matter what others said, they were nobility.

Agam Berger was a captive of Hamas who was released on January 30th. Another woman who was held with her, Agam Goldstein, told Berger’s mother that her kidnapped daughter observed the Sabbath with true self-sacrifice. Goldstein described how Hamas terrorists ordered Agam (Berger) to cook food, but with incomprehensible inner strength, Berger firmly stood her ground and refused to violate the Sabbath.

For 482 days, Agam never forgot who she was, and never let her captors break her. She may have been held by Hamas, but her soul was always free. Like generations of Jews before her, the Shabbat Queen stood at her side, offering her strength and courage.

Agam carried within the unbreakable freedom of Shabbat.


Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz is the Senior Rabbi of Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun in New York.

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