September 23, 2025

The memorial service for Charlie Kirk took place this Sunday; chances are the only things you know about it are that Erika Kirk gave a graceful, heartfelt speech; Tucker Carlson blew a dogwhistle; and President Trump joked-not-joked that he genuinely hates his political opponents. I watched the entire event, and it struck me as a pivotal moment that will impact American politics for decades to come. 

And I am terrified — not primarily by the dangers of Christian nationalism itself (though those are real), but by the likelihood that well-meaning people in the Jewish community are going to bungle their response to it and to the political juggernaut that has burst onto the scene. 

Most Jews don’t understand what is taking shape in Christian America. They fear it, conflate its diverse voices and want to denounce it with great moral force, as if that will somehow make it all go away. They think that if they call it “White Christian Nationalism,” condemn every comment Charlie Kirk ever made (real, fake or distorted), and label the entire movement irredeemably racist, then kind-hearted Americans will push back at it. But none of that will happen, will it?

Dan Williams, a philosopher at the University of Sussex, well expressed such confusion:

“Watching the Charlie Kirk memorial, I’m struck by how extremely culturally distant I feel from this world. Everything about it feels alien — the aesthetics, symbolism, music, rituals, mythology, gurus, ideas and norms. It feels like being exposed to the cultural and symbolic universe of a distant tribe.”

Humility is a good starting place for American Jews. Rabbis, communal leaders, philanthropists, Jewish professionals — I beg you: hit the pause button. Put aside the old Jewish advocacy playbook, just for a moment. Listen. Read. Engage with people who truly come from a different cultural and spiritual universe than your own.

If you watched the memorial service closely, you could hear four distinct voices:

Erika Kirk

Erika Kirk spoke with composure and grace. She thanked supporters for their prayers, reflected on her marriage, framed Charlie’s death in Christian terms and emphasized hope in eternal life. Crucially, she publicly forgave Tyler Robinson — the 22-year-old man accused of killing her husband. She said, “That young man, I forgive him,” invoking Jesus’ words: “On the cross, our Savior said, ‘Father, forgive them for they not know what they do.’” She also said: “My husband, Charlie, he wanted to save young men just like the one who took his life.” “The answer to hate,” she said, “is not hate. The answer we know from the gospel is love and always love. Love for our enemies and love for those who persecute us.”

Jack Posobiec

Jack Posobiec, a controversial far-right commentator and longtime Kirk ally, leaned heavily into spiritual warfare rhetoric. He likened Charlie Kirk to Moses, saying he “brought us to the promised land,” and argued that the activist’s killing will save “Western civilization” by “returning the people to Almighty God.” He urged the crowd to engage in “spiritual warfare” on Kirk’s behalf and to “put on the full armor of God.” Our very own Stephen Miller, deputy chief of staff to the President, sounded a similarly combative note. In the days to come, will we hear more of Erika Kirk’s forgiveness or Jack Posobiec’s retributive politics?  

JD Vance

Vice President JD Vance delivered a confession of sorts — a rare admission of how private his faith has often been. He said: “I always felt a little uncomfortable talking about my faith in public. As much as I love the Lord, and as much as it was an important part of my life, I have talked more about Jesus Christ in the past two weeks than I have my entire time in public life.” His words undoubtedly presage a renewed Christian pride and accompanying public professions of faith. 

Tucker Carlson

Tucker Carlson, unsurprisingly, played the role of provocateur. His remarks ridiculed “the hummus-eating people” who, in his telling, mocked traditional Christian faith. He pivoted to the crucifixion, charging that the death of Jesus had been “a deliberate act” by those who hated God’s truth, implying that Charlie Kirk was the victim of the same. The dogwhistles were unmistakable. His voice, too, represents a small but growing segment of the Christian right.

All of these disparate voices were present on Sunday, and will compete for influence within the Christian national movement and for the hearts and minds of Americans.

Here’s my advice to Jewish leaders:

Don’t lump them all together. Some are conciliatory and respect our democratic values, others do not. Some we can work with, others we cannot. Instead, study up on the various branches and schools of thought. Go on a listening tour and talk to the key voices in the movement.  Who are the Erika Kirks within the movement and how can we strengthen our ties to them?

Don’t engage in “offense archeology” and dig up and denounce every problematic statement from Christian figures. Those days of keeping problematic voices on the margins are over. You will only isolate yourself and the Jewish community, not the intended target of your moral condemnation. Instead, try to understand the entirety of their philosophies and approaches to politics, and then decide whether we should get to know them or keep them at arm’s length. 

Don’t slam their public professions of faith, even if they make you uncomfortable. A public figure has every right to share their faith, as long as they don’t deploy the coercive power of the state. Instead, welcome their voices of faith. They are filling the moral vacuum that has set into our society. Jewish leaders should add their own professions of faith to the mix of public voices.  

We are in for a major shift in American politics. Now is the time to understand it, not condemn it and ourselves to the margins. 

David Bernstein is the Founder and CEO of the North American Values Institute (NAVI).

Antisemitism is a social illness that we Jews — in Latin America and around the world — have sadly learned to live with. We know that even when it appears dormant, it always remains latent, waiting for the right moment to resurface with force.

Both of us have spent years monitoring and combating antisemitism in the region. But never did we imagine that we would witness in our lifetimes a resurgence as fierce as the one we are experiencing today.

Oct. 7, 2023 marked a turning point not only for Israelis but for every Jew, everywhere. The barbarity of the Hamas-led massacre that took place that day — the worst slaughter of Jews since the Holocaust — shattered any illusion of security and crossed every boundary of humanity.

Perhaps even more shocking, however, has been what followed. Instead of a unanimous condemnation of terrorism, we have seen — in countless cities across the globe — the unjustifiable defended, the facts twisted and the victims blamed. Israelis, who suffered brutal terror, are now being accused for defending themselves — an immoral reversal of the truth.

Universities, social media platforms, news outlets and even international organizations have displayed a troubling tolerance toward antisemitic rhetoric disguised as a legitimate cause. Synagogues are attacked, Jewish students are threatened, businesses are vandalized with Nazi symbols — all in the 21st century. 

Latin America is home to roughly 450,000 Jews, nearly 150,000 of them in Argentina alone. In Brazil, antisemitic attacks have surged by nearly 1,000 percent since Oct. 7. Argentina and Uruguay have seen the sharpest increases in antisemitic content on Facebook and X. The rise is widespread: almost every country in the region has seen a growth in Jew-hatred since Oct. 7.

Fueled by the rhetoric of certain governments, political parties, and in some cases shadowy operatives financed by Iran and other rogue regimes, the demonization of Israel in Latin America has spread rapidly—moving from social media into mainstream media, academia, and even official institutions.

In cities large and small across the region, “pro-Palestinian” marches are taking place. And in almost every one of them, we see images of malnourished children — images already proven false — displayed alongside openly anti-Jewish slogans.

Almost invariably, protesters wave antisemitic signs (such as those equating the Star of David with the swastika), chant things like “judíos asesinos” and deface synagogues and Jewish institutions with hateful graffiti. This goes far beyond acceptable criticism of the Israeli government’s actions and clearly crosses the line into antisemitism.

There is no condemnation in these protests of the atrocities committed by Hamas against Israeli civilians, nor of the way this terrorist regime treats its own people: using them as human shields, stealing humanitarian aid, robbing children of their childhood and abusing women. Israeli hostages are not even mentioned.

The word “genocide” is used with absolute frivolity (insulting the memory of the victims of the Holocaust); Israelis are compared to Nazis and Israel is held to impossible standards. All of this fits perfectly within the IHRA (International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance) definition of antisemitism, and only exposes the underlying truth: antisemitism — not genuine concern for human rights — is at the core of these demonstrations.

Much like in other parts of the world, most of those who criticize Israel in Latin America have little or no grasp of the realities on the ground, yet they readily join the chorus of demonization.

The charge of genocide is being wielded irresponsibly and with malice. Israel harbors no genocidal intent, while the Palestinian side openly proclaims one—yet this inconvenient truth is one the world refuses to confront. Anyone familiar with the strength of the Israeli army knows that if genocide had been its intention, the war would have been over by Oct. 8, 2023 — without risking the life of a single Israeli soldier.

The fate of the Israeli hostages seems to matter little to the world — and the simple fact that the war could end today if the ruthless Hamas terrorists released them all is almost entirely ignored. Those still alive are being held in inhuman conditions: starved, denied access to the Red Cross, and completely cut off from their families. One of them — visibly malnourished — was forced to dig his own grave. Yet even that image (released by the terrorists themselves) was not enough for the world to demand their immediate release. Because it contradicts the narrative of Israel (the world’s only Jewish state) as the villain, it is quickly dismissed. Undoubtedly, the long-standing anti-Jewish prejudice has found a new excuse to show its face.

But in Latin America, this surge did not occur in a vacuum. For many years, some Latin American governments have tolerated or even promoted language that crossed the line into antisemitism, creating a hostile atmosphere for the local Jewish communities, and opening the door for what is happening now.

This is certainly the case of Colombia, where President Gustavo Petro showed his antipathy toward Israel and the Jewish people well before taking office. His long record of hostility — rooted in his past as a member of the ELN guerrilla force — culminated in open alignment with Iran and Hamas after Oct. 7. He equated Gaza with Auschwitz, accused Israelis of behaving like Nazis, and broke diplomatic ties with Israel — discarding decades of friendship.

In Brazil, President Lula da Silva has long used offensive and unwarranted rhetoric when referring to Israel and, after October 7, he compared Israel to the Nazis and declared that Israel’s actions in Gaza amounted to “a new Holocaust.” Diplomatic relations are now frozen.

In Venezuela, relations with Israel have been broken for years, first under Hugo Chávez and now Nicolás Maduro, both close allies of Iran. After Oct. 7, Caracas openly defended Hamas and even joined South Africa at the ICJ (International Court of Justice) to accuse Israel of genocide.

In Chile, President Gabriel Boric—who has a history of hostility toward the Jewish community — has echoed similar narratives, repeating the rhetoric of Brazil and Colombia and also supporting South Africa’s accusation at the ICJ. In Bolivia, President Luis Arce broke relations with Israel, accusing it of “crimes against humanity.”

The dictatorships of Nicaragua and Cuba, long hostile to Israel, also aligned with Hamas after Oct. 7. In Nicaragua, Jewish cemeteries were vandalized shortly after the Hamas pogrom.

Meanwhile, Iran continues to fund operations against Jews and Israel in the region. Its responsibility for the 1992 bombing of the Israeli Embassy in Buenos Aires and the 1994 AMIA (Argentina Israelite Mutual Association) bombing remains a chilling reminder of how far its reach extends.

In the face of these brutal reactions against Israel and Jews in Latin America and all over the world, there are, of course, some people of good faith who are tempted to think that if only Israel had acted differently, much of this tragedy could have been avoided. But this view overlooks the deeper reality behind these events. No Israeli policy could ever justify the savagery of Oct. 7. What triggered this horror was the dangerous ideology with which the Palestinian people have been indoctrinated for decades. 

Nor were Israel’s government actions after Oct. 7 the cause of the atrocious wave of antisemitism that followed. The antisemitic demonstrations began even before Israel set foot in Gaza. And the sheer ignorance displayed by most of those judging Israel only confirms this.

The Israeli army is operating in an extraordinarily complex environment, confronting a terrorist regime that deliberately endangers its own civilians in order to maximize casualties and then shift the blame onto Israel. Passing judgment from afar on the decisions of a democratic government fighting a brutal, inhumane death cult like Hamas — without the necessary knowledge to evaluate the realities and dilemmas it faces — is not only irresponsible, but also fuels the dangerous tide of demonization sweeping the world.

The vast majority of Jews in Latin America understand this. And while deeply empathizing with innocent Palestinians — whose suffering is real and tragic — they reject the cynical attempts to blame Israel for it. History has shown us, time and again, how demonization of Jews has been used as a dangerous weapon. Each time, lies and slanders paved the way for violence. Today, the same pattern is reemerging. That is why those of us with a moral compass must stand firm and reject this chorus of demonization that not only affects Israel and Israelis but also leaves Jewish communities across Latin America and the world even more exposed and at risk. 

Eduardo Kohn is B’nai B’rith’s director of Latin American Affairs. Adriana Camisar is B’nai B’rith’s special advisor on Latin American and U.N. Affairs. 

One Erev Yom Kippur a few years ago, I introduced a sermon by saying, “I am going to give a nonpolitical sermon tonight. I am going to talk about why we must support Israel.”  

To many, that statement may seem paradoxical. But just as rabbis, regardless of affiliation, are advocates for living a Jewish life, so too should we be advocates for the Jewish people, especially for the nation-state of the Jewish people. And this has never been more important than today.

We are living through one of the most challenging times in recent history. The past 23 months have felt as if we are on a roller coaster — mourning the death of innocent Israelis, praying for the hostages, rejoicing when any of them have been freed, celebrating the extraordinary Israeli military successes as it fought a conflict on multiple fronts, and so much more. 

Compounding all of this is the explosion of anti-Jewish hate which is fueled by the inexplicable fact that Hamas is winning the PR war and the media’s overwhelming acceptance of their depiction of events. But just because the media presents a distorted one-sided narrative and Hamas is not held responsible for the suffering in Gaza or the war crimes they commit every day they are holding captives, does not mean that our opinions and those of our congregants should be formed only by what we read and hear in the press. 

We must not allow Israel’s enemies to define our relationship with Israel. 

Rabbis need to remind everyone, including those in our community, why Israel is fighting this war and of the reality that Israel faces. Rabbis have an obligation to dispel the lies, misimpressions, distortions and misrepresentations about Israel. People may forget that she is fighting an implacable enemy who hide behind civilians in hospitals, mosques and schools in a vast network of tunnels, and who do not care about the loss of innocent lives on either side. 

The High Holy Days represent an opportunity to challenge the prevailing narrative and educate our congregants, to restore faith in the Jewish people and Israel.  If we do not counter the lies and propaganda against the Jewish people from the pulpit, we risk it becoming internalized, leading Jews to believe the horrible things said about Israel and their fellow Jews, which ultimately leads to a distancing from the Jewish people, a weakening of Jewish identity, Jewish pride and Jewish sense of belonging. 

If we do not counter the lies and propaganda against the Jewish people from the pulpit, we risk it becoming internalized, leading Jews to believe the horrible things said about Israel and their fellow Jews, which ultimately leads to a distancing from the Jewish people, a weakening of Jewish identity and Jewish pride and Jewish sense of belonging.

As Israeli Arab commentator Yoseph Haddad recently explained, to survive in the Middle East, Israel has to speak Arabic – meaning be tough, and not perceived as soft. Its actions may make Jews in the United States cringe at times, but it is doing what it needs to do to survive as the only democracy in the Middle East for more than 75 years. 

We should approach the topic of Israel with a sense of humility. We in the United States cannot imagine the daily events that occur that we never hear about — the car rammings, the stabbings, the constant red alerts — and the impact they have on the psyche and trauma of the people of Israel. We aren’t awakened in the middle of the night to run to a safe room, or carry our babies to a protected area. The role of rabbis is to help our communities understand the multiple challenges that Israel faces and to ensure that she is not fighting the battle against Islamic extremists who seek her destruction alone.

To those rabbis who think Israel needs to hear their critique, I say Israel does not lack for critics. Their perspective will not impact decisionmakers in Israel. It will, however, impact the hearts and minds of those who hear their words — their congregants. And while many share their critiques out of love, I fear that nuance will be lost to many in the Jews in the pews, who will come away thinking that their rabbi does not support Israel, and therefore, neither should they. 

Is Israel perfect? Absolutely not. No person is, nor is any country. We do not love Israel because she is perfect, nor do we need Israel to be perfect for us to love her. We are family, and when your family is hurting, when it is isolated and alone, it is your obligation to offer comfort and support, not public condemnation, neither from the pulpit nor from unsolicited open letters.

The midrash tells us that Abraham, the very first Jew, was called HaIvri, the Hebrew, because he was courageous enough to stand on one side while everyone else in the world was on the other side. We are like Abraham. We are on one side, with a few outspoken courageous allies, while the rest of the world is on the other. And we should also be like Moses, passionate defenders of our people.  

So, on these High Holy Days, rabbis have an important role to play. We must rise to the challenge and fight the global efforts to delegitimize and demonize Israel and the Jewish people. We must fortify our communities with truth, so they do not doubt Israel or the justness of the battle it is waging. 

This is a time to ask — will we stand with our family or with its detractors. This is a time when we can and must restore faith in our people. 

Rabbi Stuart Weinblatt is the Chair of the Zionist Rabbinic Coalition: The Voice of Zionist Rabbis, a network of over 2,000 rabbis committed to fostering love and dedication to Zionism and Israel.

Recognition of a Palestinian state — while hostages remain in captivity, while Hamas continues to rule Gaza through violence against Israel and its own citizens, and while the Palestinian Authority remains ineffectual, kleptocratic and supportive of terrorism — is as imbecilic as it is dangerous. No amount of erudition, accolades or public office guarantees wisdom; high rank often amplifies habit and fear, not judgment. Global politics requires emotional intelligence, honesty, and, above all, common sense. Britain, Canada, Australia and others, including France, which has signaled its intent, reveal not wisdom but expedience: an attempt to manage domestic unrest, to advertise moral virtue, and to wield a diplomatic cudgel against Israel. Recognition is not merely a declaration of sympathy. To recognize something is to affirm that it exists as claimed. One can call a duck a pencil, but it remains a duck. The same holds for statehood.

International law has long relied on the Montevideo Convention of 1933 as its touchstone. To qualify as a state, an entity must have a permanent population, a defined territory, a government exercising effective control and the capacity to enter into relations with other states. These are descriptive, not moral, criteria. They do not require perfection or virtue. But they do require something more than slogans and symbolic flags.

Palestine meets the first element. Today, there is little dispute that Palestinians constitute a permanent, identifiable population. But the case weakens immediately after that. The claimed territory — the West Bank (including East Jerusalem) and the Gaza Strip — remains unsettled. For the protection of its citizens after years of deadly attacks, Israel maintains security control over large parts of the West Bank, and the borders of a potential Palestinian state have never been agreed upon. Gaza, meanwhile, has not been under Palestinian Authority (PA) administration for nearly two decades. In June 2007, after a brief and bloody civil war, Hamas fighters hurled PA officials from rooftops and seized full control of the Strip. Since then Gaza has been ruled not from Ramallah but by Hamas, a group designated as a terrorist organization by the United States, the European Union and others.

The problem of governance is even more decisive. The PA functions as a limited municipal authority in parts of the West Bank, but it is widely acknowledged to be corrupt and chronically ineffective. Its own budget testifies to the problem: roughly 7% of its annual expenditures go to stipends for Palestinians imprisoned for or killed while carrying out attacks on Israeli civilians, a practice so notorious it is colloquially known as “pay-for-slay.” Hamas’s record is darker still. On Oct. 7, 2023, its fighters massacred some 1,200 Israelis, raped women and dragged more than 250 hostages into Gaza. Many of those captives remain unaccounted for today. That is not simply a lapse of moral governance; it is the active perpetration of war crimes.

Recognition of a state normally implies the expectation that it can honor international obligations and control the armed groups operating within its borders. Yet no Palestinian body can plausibly claim that capacity. The PA lacks effective authority over Gaza; Hamas’s charter continues to call explicitly for the destruction of Israel; and armed militias in the West Bank operate with minimal central control. When Germany recognized Croatia in 1991, or when the United States recognized Kosovo in 2008, those governments at least exercised effective monopoly on force within the territory they claimed. No such claim can be made here.

Supporters of recognition sometimes point to the fact that more than 140 United Nations member states have recognized Palestine and that in 2012 the U.N. General Assembly granted it “nonmember observer state” status. But diplomatic recognition cannot conjure away the absence of a single, responsible government. France continued to exist as a state during the Nazi occupation even though it could not defend itself; that was because it still had a legitimate government-in-exile that spoke for the French nation. Palestine has no equivalent: it has two rival claimants, one of them openly genocidal, the other, more discreetly so.

If the legal and practical prerequisites have not changed since before Oct. 7, why are Western governments choosing this moment to move toward recognition? The reasons have less to do with the Middle East than with their own domestic politics. In London, Paris and Ottawa, mass protests over the Gaza war have shaken city centers and threatened fragile political coalitions. Leaders under pressure to calm their streets and court voters have found that a symbolic nod to Palestinian statehood is an easy gesture. Recognition also serves a second purpose: it allows them to signal even-handedness and to pressure Israel into concessions that years of direct negotiations have failed to produce. These are motives of expedience, not of realism.

Meanwhile the facts on the ground have grown only grimmer. UNRWA schools —  funded in part by the very governments now talking of recognition — have repeatedly been found to use textbooks that demonize Jews and, according to investigations by several donor countries, employed staff who took part in the Oct. 7 attacks. Hamas continues to hold hostages and to fire rockets from beneath hospitals and apartment blocks. The Palestinian Authority shows no capacity, or desire, to confront Hamas militarily or to end the practice of rewarding convicted killers. And neither Israel’s government nor any Palestinian faction is negotiating a two-state settlement. To imagine that recognition in these circumstances will conjure peace is to indulge in fantasy.

Israel, by contrast, is a small nation fighting on multiple fronts to free its citizens, protect its borders, and limit civilian casualties in the face of an enemy that embeds itself among civilians. Since Oct. 7 it has endured rocket attacks from Iran, Gaza, Lebanon, Syria and Yemen. Its army has entered Gaza repeatedly not for territorial conquest, but to destroy Hamas terror-tunnels and to rescue its hostages. This is done at significant risk to its own soldiers. That some Western governments have grown weary of Israel’s prolonged effort to defend itself should make no difference to the justice of that effort.

If the true goal were Palestinian self-determination and regional peace, the responsible policy would look very different. It would begin with coordinated international action to secure the immediate release of every hostage. It would continue with the on-the-ground dismantling of Hamas’s military infrastructure so that no governing entity in Gaza could again launch an Oct. 7 – style massacre. It would demand transparent and unified Palestinian governance that renounces terror and ends the payment of “martyrs’ salaries.” It would overhaul or replace UNRWA so that Palestinian education and relief are no longer conduits for indoctrination and violence. Only then would recognition serve as more than a symbolic blow against Israel.

Recognition of a Palestinian state under present conditions is therefore not diplomacy; it is political theater — a way for Western governments to quiet street protests and posture on the world stage while avoiding the harder work of freeing hostages, confronting Hamas and fostering genuine Palestinian civil society.

A duck called a pencil remains a duck. A political entity that lacks unified governance, defined and controlled territory, and a commitment to peace remains something other than a state. To pretend otherwise is not compassion. It is dangerous negligence.

May God bring us a New Year of joy, health, enduring peace, with the immediate return of every captive to their families. 

Peter Himmelman is a Grammy and Emmy nominated performer, songwriter, film composer, visual artist and award-winning author.