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Jewish Journal

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January 28, 2026

Antisemitism Against the Israelite Igbo People Is Real

Commentary, Opinion /

On February 3rd, PBS will premiere “Black and Jewish America: An Interwoven History,” a Henry Louis Gates, Jr. documentary about Black-Jewish relations in America. It will include examples of cooperation as well as examples of tension.

I propose a different framing – Black Americans and Jewish Americans (regardless of the race of individual Jews, since Jews are a multi-racial people) could both be considered common descendants of ancient Israelites, defined as members of the ancient Hebrew nation, especially in the period of the Exodus to the Babylonian captivity (12th to 6th centuries BCE). I first explored this idea in the Jewish Journal in 2024: “A New Way to Fight Antisemitism: Welcoming Israelites into our Tent.”

I now want to go a step further and propose a more provocative idea: that antisemitism played a role the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, which targeted the Igbo people.

Originally known as the “Ibiri” (the root of which is similar to Ivrit, the word for Hebrew), the Igbo (pronounced “ee-bo”) people, who live in what is today Nigeria, have Israelite ancestry. For thousands of years, the Igbo passed down an oral history of being descended from Israelites. They maintained customs described in the Torah, such as circumcision of males on the 8th day after birth and avoiding the consumption of fish without scales (similar to rules regarding what fish are deemed kosher). A Sephardic Beit Din ruled in 2022 that Igbos are Israelites.

Igbo scholar Remy Ilona has published extensively on Igbo Israelite heritage.  Ilona noted that as early as 1789, Olaudah Equiano included a description of Igbo customs, similar to those of Israelites, in his narrative of being kidnapped and enslaved as part of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. This was the first English-language enslavement narrative and played a key role in Britain’s abolitionist movement.

Others who have noted the Igbo-Israelite connection include Swiss-Jewish scholar Daniel Lis, who published “Jewish Identity Among the Igbo of Nigeria,” and filmmaker Jeff Lieberman, who produced the documentary “Re-emerging: The Jews of Nigeria.”

Centuries of Persecution

Since the Igbo people are Israelites, it is not surprising that they have faced centuries of persecution. During the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, 1.3 million Igbo individuals were trafficked from the Bight of Biafra to the Caribbean and to British colonies of what would later become the United States. Plantations in Maryland and Virginia in particular were sites of forced labor for many of those with Igbo ancestry who were enslaved. Frederick Douglass, who was inspired by Olaudah Equiano, was likely Igbo himself.

Igbos were also targeted in the Biafran Civil War between 1967-1970, which started in 1966 with pogroms where predominantly Muslim neighbors attacked Igbo villages and killed between 10,000 and 30,000 Igbo people. A genocidal civil war ensued, resulting in the deaths of up to three million Igbo civilians. Israel was one of the only countries to stand by the Igbo people during this tragic time.

In his book Igbophobia and Antisemitism: Interlocking Hatreds, Ilona notes that while Igbos were being murdered in the war, Henry Kissinger wrote a memo to Nixon which said:

“There is an urge for unity among the elite of all factions (in Nigeria), though the strongest cement at this point is probably common tribal hatred of the Ibos…. The Ibos are the wandering Jews of West Africa… gifted… Westernized; at best envied and resented, but mostly despised by the mass of their neighbors.”

The Igbo are still subject to suspicion and hatred in Nigeria today. Due to the Igbo culture which emphasizes working hard, Ilona notes that they are derisively referred to as what translates as “money money.” He further quotes Nigerian journalist Donu Kogbara:

“Some (not all!) Igbos are absolutely convinced that those who dislike them are simply jealous because Igbos are, according to them, uniquely intelligent, entrepreneurial and affluent. I hate this kind of triumphalism because it is vulgar and immodest; but you know what? Annoyingly boastful individuals and ethnic chauvinists exist within every single tribe in this country. And let’s be honest: Igbos have plenty to boast about because, thanks to their penchant for hard work and despite the penalties they’ve suffered since the Biafran civil war, they shine pretty brightly within academic, professional and commercial milieux. Igbos have certainly achieved enough to inspire envy in or to at least arouse the competitive instincts of Northerners and fellow Southerners who are interested in education and business activity.”

One of the areas where Igbos have found success in recent years is the Nigerian entertainment industry, also known as “Nollywood,” which produces over 2,500 films annually and has widespread appeal across Africa and its diaspora.

A New Framework

In light of the Israelite ancestry of the Igbo people, this history of anti-Igbo persecution, starting with the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, should be called what it is: antisemitism. There is more than enough evidence that Igbos have been targeted because of their ancient Israelite/Jewish connection.

Acknowledging this antisemitism would have profound implications for Black-Jewish relations in the U.S., given that historian Douglas Chambers has estimated that up to 60% of Black Americans today have at least one Igbo ancestor.

Even if Black Americans with Igbo ancestry today are religiously Christian, we should celebrate our shared Israelite heritage. That is also part of our “interwoven history.”

Simone Joy Friedman is Head of Philanthropy at EJF Philanthropies and Editor of The Giving Report.

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Why Envy Is Harder to Shake Than We Think

Judaism /

Most of us don’t think of ourselves as envious people. We may admire others, feel inspired by their success, or occasionally wish we had what they have — but envy? That feels like a step too far.

And yet envy quietly shapes much of our thinking. It surfaces when we compare careers, families, finances or even levels of happiness. Often, it doesn’t announce itself as resentment. Instead, it appears as dissatisfaction: Why don’t I have that? Why did things work out for them and not for me?

In the Torah portion Yitro, which recounts the giving of the Ten Commandments, this inner struggle appears in an unexpected place. After commandments that address clear external actions — murder, theft, false testimony — the Torah turns inward, warning against lo sachmod, coveting what belongs to someone else. It suggests that moral life is shaped not only by what we do, but by what we allow ourselves to desire.

It’s striking that this instruction appears alongside prohibitions against murder and theft. The Torah seems to be telling us that what a person thinks and desires matters just as much as outward behavior.

Jewish tradition teaches something pretty obvious: envy doesn’t actually harm the person being envied. It harms the one who feels it. Wanting what someone else has does not bring us closer to fulfillment; it quietly distances us from it.

There is a story about a great Jewish leader who once noticed a rare book in someone else’s library — a book he himself did not own. When the host offered it to him as a gift, he declined. Not out of politeness, but because he felt the moment gave him the opportunity to practice not wanting what belonged to someone else. The issue at hand was not the book. It was the freedom that comes from self-restraint.

Classical Jewish ethical literature describes envy as almost universal — something no one fully escapes. But it also teaches that envy is uniquely destructive. One rabbinic teaching states that envy, uncontrolled desire and the pursuit of honor can “remove a person from the world.”

At first glance, that sounds extreme. But consider what happens when envy takes hold. It rarely remains a passing thought. It repeats itself, turning comparison into fixation — measuring one’s own seemingly ordinary life against someone else’s more exciting one.

King Solomon puts it vividly: “Envy rots the bones.” Beyond its graphic imagery, the message carries a profound message. Envy doesn’t just sour our mood; it erodes our inner stability. When our sense of worth is built on comparison, something essential begins to weaken.

So how should we respond when envy inevitably surfaces?

One powerful remedy is internalizing the idea that life is not a competition for limited rewards. Jewish tradition insists that what another person has was never meant for us — and what is meant for us cannot be taken by anyone else. When we absorb that perspective, comparison loses much of its grip.

Another counterintuitive approach lies in how we engage with those around us. When we feel envy toward someone, we’re prone to distance ourselves or to diminish their success. Doing the opposite — offering sincere congratulations, speaking kindly, even helping when appropriate — often weakens envy’s hold on us. Action reshapes emotion.

Finally, envy fades when we practice gratitude. There is a well-known saying: Be careful what you wish for; you might get it — but not in the way you imagined. We often long for another person’s comfort or success without seeing the full picture behind it. Perspective, even when delayed, can be illuminating — and a gift.

One of Judaism’s core teachings is that no one can encroach upon what is designated for someone else. Taken seriously, this idea allows us to celebrate others without feeling diminished by them.

Envy may never entirely disappear from our lives, but it does not have to define our inner world. Parasha Yitro reminds us that freedom is not only about our actions, but also about our attitudes — about learning when to recalibrate and, at times, not to want. That lesson may be one of the most liberating acts of all. 

Yosef Gesser is a longtime writer for various Jewish publications, covering Jewish thought, history, and Jewish personalities.

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Prayer in Uganda

Community /

During the 2nd weekend/Shabbat of January, Temple Beth Am hosted, for the eighth time, our Kol Tefilla conference, a national cross-denominational shabbaton focused on creative approaches to prayer, spirituality and ritual life. The conference emerged as a potential antidote to some of what is staid, even stagnant, in the sanctuaries of many American synagogues, even vibrant ones. To paraphrase Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, our pews may be filled with people, but not so often with fervent prayer. There are deadened zones in our houses of prayer, likely as a result of and also contributing to deadened spiritual zones in our hearts.

The weekend was filled with workshops, “how-to”s regarding curating joyful prayer experiences, repeat-after-me sessions on new niggunim/tunes, plenary sessions about the role that music, intent and choreography play in the development of the spirit.

In some ways, I cherish and applaud every idea, suggestion and tactic shared by the brilliant presenters.

In some ways, we are overthinking things. It is, or it can be, so much simpler.

This was reinforced to me by the deeply spiritual experiences I had on the next two Shabbatot. First in the rural, impoverished hills of Kenya. Second in Mbale, Uganda, the center of the 2000-strong (and growing) Abayudaya Jewish community.  Both weekends were replete with rich, organic, spirited uplifting prayer. I will focus on the second one, as some details stand out that are worth mentioning, and emulating.

First, the room itself. I am exceedingly proud of the sanctuary that we redesigned at Temple Beth Am, and dedicated in September 2019. It is in-the-round. Bathed in light. With meaningful Jewish iconography filling the room, including 54 “parsha panels” that are intricate artistic midrashim on each weekly reading, which are lit up on the appropriate week. We spent years and millions on this project, so as to craft a space both grand and intimate, that beckoned and amplified song. I love praying there.

And … did we need it? The “main sanctuary” of the Abayudaya community, at the top of a hill in Mbale, seems more like the “beit am” at a Camp Ramah than like a standard “Beth El” American synagogue. Simple wooden benches. A concrete floor, utterly unadorned other than stencils in the shape of a Magen David (Jewish star). Ninety-five degrees outside, the heat inside only mildly ameliorated by some fans. The room was absent all of the accoutrements that American Jews tend to associate with “beautiful sanctuaries.” And this room, and the praying within it, could not have been more beautiful.

How? A combination of learned liturgy, planned spontaneity, the simple but energizing rhythm of two drums played by two young members of the community, and a certain unmistakable local spirit which lacked the ubiquitous self-consciousness that holds back many American Jews from “letting go.” They all sang. Including the ones who did not yet know the words. That’s how they learned the words. There was no “repeat after me.” There was just, “open your mouth and sing.” Many men and women around the room engaged in a soft, gentle “rocking,” of the kind that you’d find in nearly every black church in America, sort of a cousin to a more Western Jew-y shuckling.

They were smiling in prayer. Isn’t that how it should be?

The tunes, most of which were composed locally by Abayudaya Jews (and some were right out of the American Jewish “songbook”) were simple, repetitive, soulful. And, again, they were sung with volume, with a sense of release. Even abandon. This room, unlike our sanctuary in Los Angeles, had no acoustician working to ensure the right directionality of the sound waves. But this room erupted in joyous song.

There were many kids. But no kids’ service. No Tot Shabbat at the Abayudaya. Just all the generations of the community together, in one space, having a shared religious experience. The children learn osmotically, reminding me of the great quote by the extraordinary Jewish educator, Dr. Shlomo Bardin z”l (of the Brandeis-Bardin Institute): “More than Judaism is taught, Judaism is caught.” Yes, there is a role for didactic learning in our tradition, a matrix in which complex thought is transmitted by master teachers. I am proud of my own engagement in that phenomenon. And, there is a reason why camp works. Why kids come home with their hearts and faces ablaze with ruah/spirit. On the top of a hill in Mbale, in a community starved of resources (not “just” the Jewish resources we take for granted in the U.S., but actual human resources that even make subsistence challenging), I observed a room in which the next generation of this country’s Jews are absorbing everything they need to, from their elders, from the sounds and the movements around them, from the unbridled Jewish joy and pride … to help them become the parents, grandparents and leaders of generations to come.

To be clear, I am proud of all that our community and so many communities do to revivify and reenergize local spiritual life. Niche-programming for children and young families. Breakout learning sessions. Truncated and creative liturgies for learners. Special sessions to teach new tunes. Etc. … Part of our American Jewish culture demands such a sacred approach to innovation balanced with revered inherited tradition. At the same time, we could learn something from the Abayudaya in Uganda, and their much-smaller, even-less-resourced “sister” community in Kenya: Get people in the room. On time. Encourage them to sing. Keep the children present. Do it over and over and over again. Release. Let yourself go. Feel yourself lift and rise. To a higher spiritual plane. Perhaps even to God.

On Shabbat morning, when it came time for Shema, the Rabbi Gershom Sizomu (the Chief Rabbi of Uganda, raised as an Abayudaya in Mbale, ordained at Ziegler in LA) motioned for everyone to make a circle. And hold hands. And allow the love we were about to profess to God in the V’ahavta prayer radiate throughout hands to one another, so that we could feel it. In our bodies and hearts

Friday night’s Kabbalat Shabbat service was particularly sweet. They chanted one simple, beautiful, local tune to Lekha Dodi. Throughout the recitation of the Psalms, which thanks to the ecstatic Kabbalists of Tzfat from centuries ago are, aside from Lekha Dodi, the signature liturgy of Friday night, we kept repeating versions of the same phrase: Shiru ladonai shir hadash. “Sing to God a new song.” 

It wasn’t a new song. It was the same song we sing every week. But it was so very very new. It was a moment to model. It was joyous. Raucous. Holy. It was even ecstatic. As it should be.

Maybe Kol Tefilla 2027 should be in Uganda? 

Rabbi Adam Kligfeld is Senior Rabbi at Temple Beth Am.

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Rosner’s Domain | Gvili’s Last Contribution

Rosner's Domain /

So, they are all back. More than 250. Many alive, many in body bags. Many are breathing, laughing, living human beings. Many are just memories. On Monday, the last of them was returned, after much effort, to his family. He was a policeman, shot and killed on Oct. 7, 2023, his body taken, to serve as a bargaining chip in tough negotiations. On his return, Israelis cleared empty chairs that waited for the last hostage, removed yellow pins, marked an x on a last picture. It’s over. The nightmare of hostages is over.

Fighting to find the body of Ran Gvili was as important for victory as fighting to defeat an enemy. It was a completion of a mission many Israelis considered crucial, sacred even. Is it more important than defeating Hamas? That’s a thorny question. The Israeli government, at the outset of the war, made these two its primary goals. At times, they seemed contradictory. As if Israel must choose between having its hostages and eliminating Hamas. At times, Israelis debated the proper sequence for achieving both. Should we get them back first and deal with Hamas later. Or begin with Hamas and only then turn to the hostages. 

Fighting to find the body of Gvili was as important for victory as fighting to defeat an enemy. It was a completion of a mission many Israelis considered crucial, sacred even. Is it more important than defeating Hamas? That’s a thorny question. 

Ultimately, decisions were made, some unwise, some possibly cynical, realities changed, because of Israel or because of other players. One deal led to the other, one battle preceded another. Could Israel get all of them back earlier. Could it get more of them alive rather than dead. Could it shorten the torturous path by making better choices, appointing better negotiators, planning in more meticulous way. These debates are endless, and tired, and have no clear answers. One thing is clear now: The hostages are all back, and this saga is over. Hamas is not yet defeated, and that saga had barely began. 

Israel’s determination, preoccupation and obsession with returning a hostage was again on display, in the days prior to finding Gvili. In the Gaza mud, soldiers were digging out graves, examining remains, clearing debris. If anyone wonders, the IDF is a military that can put up a fight in more than one way. Searching for Gvili it fought for Israel’s sanity and peace of mind. Occasionally, one is astonished with Israel’s insistence on finding every remain of every lost citizen. It is a weakness we have – one that the enemy uses, time and again, to its advantage.

It is also a strength of immeasurable value. Every person counts, every soul, every member of the community. When 250 Israelis were taken away from us, we all rushed to make these lost people a family. We learned their names, familiarized ourselves with the families, their life stories, treated them as if – as if they were brothers and sisters. The one with the beard, the one with the awkward glasses, the one with the disability, the one who needs treatment, the one with the twin, the one with the soulmate, the one with the very happy end, the one with the heartbreaking tragic end. 

Did we learn any lesson from this journey of sorrow and anger? From past experiences we learn that Israel can sit calmly and make all sorts of calculated decisions concerning the next time. It can appoint a committee, it can write rules, it can make policy recommendation and nod with a stern face as a report is submitted to the government. What it cannot do is follow through. What it cannot do it keep the calm when an Israeli is taken away to serve as a bargaining chip. On such occasions, all rules are thrown away, all strict commendations become mere proposals. Rules are for countries, for citizens. Rules do not apply to families, and Israelis – as polarized as they are today, as angry at one another, as disappointed with each other – somehow manage to become more of a family when the fate of hostages is on the line. 

Was it different this time? Maybe it was. The debates over the proper policy Israel must implement following the debacle of Oct. 7 were fierce, and sometimes involved angry, ugly rhetoric against the families of hostages, against the activists who worked to keep the cause of releasing the hostages front and center, against government officials who’d been accused that they don’t much care about the hostages. The large number of hostages made the debate more complicated than usual, the high-stakes war against Hamas made it more complicated, the long and intense two years of battle challenged the nerves of all Israelis. And of course, there’s the politics. Our miserable way of practicing politics. 

On Monday, Ran Gvili was brought back to Israel, and made his last contribution to a crazed grieving nation. For just a few hours he gave us a reason to forget about our miserable way of practicing politics – and remember that some things we can still do. Remarkable things.

Something I wrote in Hebrew

What complicates all coalitions? Predetermined boycotts on participation of parties:

No one is ready to forgo all boycotts. Not even Gantz, who constantly explains that his rationale for lifting one boycott (on Netanyahu) is to impose another (on Ben-Gvir). He lifts the ban on those he defines as “non-extremists” only to slap a ban on “the extremists.” That is all well and good, of course, but it raises a question: Who is an extremist, and who gets to decide? And that is a question with an answer: Almost everyone considers someone an extremist, and almost everyone is an extremist in the eyes of someone else. Shall we make this clearer? There is hardly a single Israeli to be found who is truly willing to forgo all boycotts. 

A week’s numbers

Everyone has a plan for a day after in Gaza. What’s the plan Israelis would support? (JPPI, January 2026 poll).

 

A reader’s response

Eli Rosen writes: “The whole world understands that Trump is a lunatic. It’s time Israelis also understand this sad reality.” My response: I’m not a psychiatrist. I do know that Israel must deal with the president that Americans chose to elect. 

Shmuel Rosner is senior political editor. For more analysis of Israeli and international politics, visit Rosner’s Domain at jewishjournal.com/rosnersdomain.

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Beyond the Hashtags: What I Learned in the Middle East

Commentary, Opinion /

For many college students, the Middle East exists almost entirely online. It appears between Instagram stories and TikTok videos, flattened into headlines engineered for outrage and algorithms that reward simplicity over substance. 

In this version of the region, Israel is often painted as the villain, its Arab neighbors cast as victims and complexity replaced with moral certainty. I gained valuable context by spending 10 days during winter break in Israel and the United Arab Emirates.

I traveled as part of the Israel on Campus Coalition’s Geller International Fellowship, a program designed to expose college students to the political, economic and cultural realities shaping the modern Middle East, with a particular focus on the growing partnership between Israel and the Abraham Accords countries. 

What I encountered looked nothing like the Middle East that dominates social media discourse that my generation engages in daily. Online, the Middle East is often reduced to burning maps, clips of protests, selective statistics and misinformation, which is content designed to provoke emotion rather than understanding. On the ground, however, I found functioning societies, cross-cultural collaboration, and people far more focused on building their futures than battling narratives.

One of the most striking realizations was how inaccurate a common assumption is that Arab countries uniformly oppose Israel. This trip dismantled that idea almost immediately. Boarding planes flying directly from Israel to the UAE, something that would have been unthinkable just a few years ago, was a reminder of just how fast the region can change when leaders prioritize positive change and growth. 

The disconnect between perception and reality was immediate. In Israel, innovation is not a buzzword but a national imperative. In the UAE, globalism is not theoretical; it is embedded in policy, education and commerce. And between the two countries, partnership is not symbolic; it’s operational.

Throughout the trip, we engaged with Israeli and Emirati diplomats, security experts, entrepreneurs, journalists and interfaith leaders. We discussed the Abraham Accords not as a diplomatic milestone frozen in time, but as a living framework producing real outcomes. 

This is what peaceful coexistence looks like when it is treated not as a moral aspiration, but as a strategic economic investment.

The relationship between Israel and the UAE offers a model that challenges the assumption that the Middle East is locked in perpetual dysfunction. It suggests that diplomacy grounded in mutual benefit can reshape not only bilateral relations but also regional trajectories.

What resonated with me most was how rarely this reality appears in the conversations dominating college campuses and the social media sources my generation consumes. In those spaces, discourse often collapses complexity into binaries, which include villain and victim, oppressor and oppressed and reduces history to slogans. 

We saw how cooperation strengthens not just political relationships, but everyday life. Regional partnerships expand access to water and energy solutions. Tourism and educational exchanges humanize nations to one another. These developments do not erase challenges, but they fundamentally change the conditions under which those challenges are faced.

As an American, this experience reshaped how I think about our connection to the Middle East. Beyond policy and economics, the stories we tell about the Middle East shape our culture at home. They influence campus climates. They affect how Jewish students experience safety and a sense of belonging. They help determine whether dialogue or hostility becomes the default.

Every student with a platform, every young professional with a network, every writer with an audience participates in shaping public understanding. We can choose to circulate content that reduces entire regions to conflict zones, or we can amplify stories that reflect reality in all its dimensions, including its progress.

Using our voices for peace does not mean avoiding difficult conversations. It means refusing to let them be shallow. It requires grounding advocacy in understanding rather than outrage, and recognizing that cultures are not headlines and societies are not slogans. The Middle East is not suspended in perpetual crisis; it is actively evolving.

If we want a different future, we have to start telling a more accurate story. ■

Yael Fine is a senior at Indiana University’s Kelley School of Business, pursuing a degree in Marketing and Business Law. 

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Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of God’s Law

Judaism /

The saying that best encapsulates the American soul is sourced in Scripture. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness,” states the Declaration of Independence.

The assertion references both the story of God’s creation of the world in Genesis, in which the Lord creates the first male and female in His image (Gen. 1:27), and paraphrases the 17th-century British philosopher John Locke. Locke himself drew deeply from the Hebrew Bible in articulating his politics.

As the noted historian (now serving as Israel’s Ambassador to America) Dr. Yechiel Leiter documents in his “John Locke’s Political Philosophy and the Hebrew Bible,” Locke’s “Two Treatises of Government,” so foundational to the American project, is laden with Biblical references. And the fact that these quotes are specifically and almost exclusively taken from the Hebrew Bible as opposed to the New Testament, despite Locke of course not being Jewish, has largely been ignored by many scholars.

The eminent English philosopher, historians have discovered, owned dozens of books on the Bible, including Hebrew versions of the Old Testament, numerous commentaries on it, several books on the Hebrew language, and even a few books about Kabbalah.

As Leiter summarizes:

“For Locke, humankind’s state of nature is an anarchic state that is ruled by the laws of nature, but because these laws cannot ensure a person’s protection in the state of nature, humanity must enter into a compact state in which these laws of nature remain intact. If creation of the state by compact results in the violation of the laws of nature, then the compact state loses its legitimacy and its right to exist, resulting in the obligation to form a new governmental system in which the laws of nature are honored. Clearly Locke’s theory of civil government, which includes the right to rebel against uncivil government, is predicated on his understanding of natural law, hence the requisite introduction of the Second Treatise with a discussion of natural law.”

Where does Locke turn to analyze the concept of natural law? To the story of Cain and Abel. After all, Cain is punished by God for murdering Abel, despite there not having existed a prior commandment not to do so. Thereby Locke, as Leiter writes, uses “Scripture itself, the very revelation that would seem to obviate reason, to prove the existence of a ubiquitous reason-based natural law, installed and relevant from the time of creation”

Locke also sees human reason as emerging from the Bible. “God makes him in his own Image after his own Likeness, makes him an intellectual Creature, and so capable of Dominion,” he writes, citing Genesis again. To Locke, Genesis 1:28’s commandment “Be fertile and increase, fill the earth and master it” was the “great and primary Blessing of God Almighty,” a reflection of His “great design” in creating humans whose “intellectual nature” allows them to partner with God in creation.

Ideally, Locke believed, mankind would balance reason and revelation. As he puts it in another work, “The Reasonableness of Christianity,” “The belief and worship of one God, was the national religion of the Israelites alone; and, if we will consider it, it was introduced and supported amongst that people by revelation. They were in Goshen, and had light, whilst the rest of the world were in almost Egyptian darkness, without God in the world.”

“Love thy neighbor as thyself” (Leviticus 19:18) was another crucial source for Locke’s theory of natural law. If, as Locke understood, there is a basic natural law of self-preservation, and the Bible instructs us to treat others as one would treat oneself, it emerges that each individual has an obligation to preserve humankind as a whole. How is that preservation to be maintained? “The state of nature has a law of nature to govern it, which obliges every one: and reason, which is that law, teaches all mankind, who will but consult it, that being all equal and independent, no one ought to harm another in his life, health, liberty or possessions.” It is this articulation that was paraphrased by Thomas Jefferson in the Declaration’s most famous statement.

Referencing the late British Chief Rabbi’s “The Home We Build Together,” my colleague Rabbi Meir Soloveichik has reflected, “America is unique because it joins Lockean social-contract theory and biblical covenantal concepts, which allows for both a language of individual freedom and collective national purpose. The covenantal conception of the United States, Sacks suggests, allows for ‘integration without assimilation,’ both individual freedom and collective destiny.” The American experiment, inspired by Locke’s writings, would function in the model of Biblical Israel, balancing the gift of human rationality with belief in the grace of Heaven.

“We, therefore, the Representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States,” the Founders wrote. “… And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”

Rabbi Dr. Stuart Halpern is Senior Adviser to the Provost of Yeshiva University and Deputy Director of Y.U.’s Straus Center for Torah and Western Thought. His books include the newly released “Jewish Roots of American Liberty,” “The Promise of Liberty: A Passover Haggada,” “Esther in America,” “Gleanings: Reflections on Ruth” and “Proclaim Liberty Throughout the Land: The Hebrew Bible in the United States.”

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Jaydi Samuels Kuba: “Your Last First Date,” Matchmaking and Jewmaican Beef Patties

Food, Podcasts, Taste Buds With Deb /

Matchmaking and eating go hand-in-hand.

“They’re natural compliments to each other,” Jaydi Samuels Kuba, author of the newly released ”Your Last First Date: Secrets from a Hollywood Matchmaker,” told the Journal. Throughout the book, Kuba, who is also a TV writer and dating coach, shares narrative stories, along with practical dating wisdom, throughout the book.

“In terms of the dates that I set up, I really think about the venues, the type of food people will be eating, as they’re getting to know each other, and the factors that go into selecting the perfect restaurant,” Kuba said. “I actually did an exercise where I kept a tally of all the restaurants I sent people out to on dates; I wanted to see which ones statistically were likely to yield more second dates than others so that I could send clients to those places.”

For instance, places that are lively with good airflow, and also outdoor settings – weather permitting, are good. Sitting at a bar, eating at a diner or going somewhere formal, not so much.

“You also don’t want somewhere that’s empty or feeling too intimate for a first-time meet; it can be a little bit overwhelming and it can also be awkward,” Kuba said.

She also likes to raise awareness about what types of food people can order that may help them feel more comfortable or break a nervous dating habit.

“For example, someone very talkative may want to go the route of booking their date at a tapas restaurant, because there will be natural breaks in conversation,” she said.

Kuba always considered herself a natural people-connector, though not always romantically.

“I always would help people find new friends, find new jobs, find a roommate, whatever people were searching for in their life,” she said. “As I started getting older and there was more of a need around me, whether it was friends … co coworkers or colleagues looking for love, I just naturally fell into the role … and started matching people in that way.”

It spiraled from a side hustle, while she was working as a TV writer – “I was working on the show “Family Guy,” and I just noticed everyone around me craving [love] in their life, and I decided to be the solution,” she said. – into a full blown business and passion. It’s even how she met her husband.

“[He’s] a former client that I matched five times before he and I went out,” she said. “And now we’re married with a beautiful girl.”

The book came about during the writers’ strike. She needed a creative outlet, and couldn’t write TV at the time, and started writing a book proposal.

“Originally it was very prescriptive: it was a straightforward ‘people in Hollywood suffer the same way you do with their dating lives [and] here’s how I help them,” she said. “I wanted it to be relatable and exciting and approachable, and have vignettes about people in the industry while still holding back names, of course, to protect confidentiality.”

She got a positive reaction – publishers loved her writing – but she was unknown, so the project stalled. Then the team at Avid Press suggested she try a narrative approach.

“I had never thought about writing anything that was memoir style; I am used to being behind the scenes: I write TV and other people say my words,” Kuba said. “As I started reshaping the proposal, I realized I was way more excited about this version.

“Once I started allowing myself to be vulnerable and insert my own journey into the story, it became something that … I was even more excited about it.”

Stories in the book range from the comedic to the heartbreaking. Kuba takes the reader along for the ride with the characters, who she advises throughout their journeys.

“When someone finishes reading the book, if they’re single, I want them to … walk away feeling like we just had ten one-on-one coaching sessions together,” Kuba said. “I want you to feel like you’re … learning vicariously through them, so that maybe you could avoid some of the same mistakes and have success on your own.”

You could potentially improve your flirting-game, up your confidence, get out of your head, and/or learn how to get out of work mode on a date.

“If someone isn’t single, I hope that they read this book and it reminds them of when they were, and they either look back on it fondly or nostalgically or [be thankful they are] not there anymore,” Kuba said.

No matter what your relationship status, eating is a wonderful common-ground.

For Kuba, food always smells like memories. She is one eighth Jamaican from her mother’s mother – they call themselves “Jewmaican,” and grew up on her bubbe’s beef patties, amongst other recipes. “Nothing feels more like home to me than when I just get a whiff of one walking by like a Jamaican restaurant or if I’m fortunate enough to have homemade ones,” she said. That recipe is below.

Learn more about Jaydi Samuels Kuba at LJMatchmaking.com, follow @MatchMadeinHollywood on Instagram and  TikTok, listen to the My podcast: Match Made in Hollywood podcast, and get a copy of “Your Last First Date” at your favorite place to buy books.

For the full conversation, listen to the podcast:

 

Watch the interview:

 

Bubbe’s Jewmaican Beef Patties

Yields 5

Pastry:

2 cups flour

1 ¼ cups Crisco in a can (use lid to make the dough circles)

1/3 teaspoon salt

⅔ teaspoon cold water

Plus: 1 large egg and 1 tablespoon of water to; mix together to make an egg wash for baking

 

In a large bowl, combine flour, Crisco, salt and water; mix well. Divide dough in half, wrap in plastic and chill until ready to use (at least 30 minutes). Each half will make 5 servings; freeze one of the dough packets for a later time or double the filling recipe (below).

When ready to use, roll out on a floured surface to about 1/8-inch thickness. Cut into circles, using the lid from the Crisco can.

 

Filling:

3 ounces tomato paste

1 ¼ cup water

1 pound ground beef

½ teaspoon salt

⅓ cup green pepper, finely diced

½ teaspoon pepper

½ cups onion, finely diced

½ -1 teaspoon Louisiana hot sauce for spice

If necessary: 1 slice of bread, cubed

 

In a medium pot, dissolve tomato paste in water. Add the rest of the ingredients (except for the bread) and mix.

Cook over medium heat for 30 minutes. Cool down and then refrigerate for 1 hour. Note: If the meat mixture is too watery, add cubed bread.

 

Putting it together:

Preheat the oven to 350.

Place 3 tablespoons of the meat mixture on one half of each pastry circle. Fold the other half over the meat. Use a fork to press down around the edge of the pastry.

Brush top with egg wash.

Bake for 30-35 minutes.

Debra Eckerling is a writer for the Jewish Journal and the host of “Taste Buds with Deb.” Subscribe on YouTube or your favorite podcast platform. Email Debra: tastebuds@jewishjournal.com.

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