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October 7, 2026

Bass, Raman, Israel

For those of you who do not live in Los Angeles, an almost-debate last week between the two candidates vying to be our city’s next mayor might not have attracted much of your attention. But a program in which incumbent Karen Bass and challenger Nithya Raman took questions separately in front of a largely Jewish community audience told us volumes about the rapidly evolving role that Israel plays in American politics. The lessons of that night’s argument between the Ghost of Israel Past and the Ghost of Israel Future carry immense ramifications far beyond L.A.’s city limits.

Israel is one of many topics on which Bass represents a previous era of Democratic Party politics. Bass has held public office for more than two decades and worked as a community organizer for 15 years before that. Like many leaders of her generation, she has been a longtime but not especially fervent supporter of Israel, faithfully attending Jewish community events and reliably voting on behalf of the Jewish state’s interests. But like Joe Biden, Chuck Schumer and many other Democrats who came of political age in the late 20th century, her advocacy was never put to much of a test. At least not until Oct. 7, 2023.

City Councilmember Nithya Raman is also a product of her own more recent political emergence. The first of four members of the Democratic Socialists of America who now populate the 15-member council, Raman has reflected DSA orthodoxy, suspicion and hostility toward Israel since her first campaign in 2020. She ran six years ago at a time when a progressive resurgence was reformulating the Democratic Party, as candidates like Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) and DSA member Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (NY) had pulled the party dramatically leftward on any number of domestic and foreign policy matters. Israel has emerged as a key rallying point for most Democratic progressives, and Raman’s antipathy reflects that broader trend.

Both candidates developed their ideological profiles on Israel and the Middle East largely in conformity with the existing political zeitgeist during their ascensions into their respective careers as elected officeholders. Bass was first elected during the Second Intifada. Even before the Gaza War, Raman’s career has taken place at a time when Israelis rather than Palestinians were seen by many as the aggressors. Neither appears to have made Israel an especially high priority for their work, but both have seemed willing to be carried by the broader ideological currents of their respective eras.

This all came to a head at the Skirball Center late last month, when the two were questioned about their beliefs, their allegiances and their histories on Israel-related issues. Neither said anything particularly surprising. Raman repeated her previously-stated opinion that the Israeli military’s efforts to protect its country’s people from terrorist attack constituted genocide. Bass said that it did not. Raman referred to the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement, which attempts to impose economic penalties on Israel for protecting its countries people from terrorist attack, as a “legitimate form of peaceful protest.” Raman then asserted that BDS was not part of her platform, while Bass opposed the concept altogether. Raman defended her appearance on antisemitic livestreamer Hasan Piker’s program and Bass’ campaign sent a press release criticizing her for it. 

The program revealed nothing new about either candidate. Reading a transcript of their interviews without their names attached could have led one to believe that the speakers were Biden and Ocasio-Cortez. Most Los Angeles Jews will vote for Bass, albeit without much enthusiasm. Some of the younger and more progressive members of the community will vote for Raman. 

But make no mistake: Bass represents the past and Raman reflects an emerging future. A recent LA Times poll showed Bass winning voters 65 and older by a formidable 2-1 margin. Among voters aged 18-29, Raman’s advantage was an astronomical 66-4. While these numbers were not broken down by ethnicity or religion, they reflect a generational pivot taking place across Los Angeles and across the state and national Democratic parties. American Jews will need to adopt a new approach to this rapidly changing reality – and fast.


Dan Schnur is the U.S. Politics Editor for the Jewish Journal. He teaches courses in politics, communications, and leadership at UC Berkeley, USC and Pepperdine. He hosts the monthly webinar “The Dan Schnur Political Report” for the Los Angeles World Affairs Council & Town Hall. Follow Dan’s work at www.danschnurpolitics.com

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Torah Portion: B’ray’sheet

Boom!

Or if you prefer — Bang!

In the beginning God creates the heavens — the universe — something very, very, very big. And the earth — something very, very, very small in relationship to the universe.

Thus, immediately establishing that this world is something very, very, very special.

Still, at these first moments, it’s a whole lot of tovu va vohu. A formless mass.

Chaos.

So, God quickly starts whipping things into order.  

On Day one: He separates light and darkness.

Day two: He separates the water that encircles the earth into two parts: ocean water and atmospheric water.

Day three: Dry land and oceans.

Day four: He adds the sun and the moon.

Day five: Life appears. The sea animals and birds.

Day six: Land animals. And, finally, a unique creature called Adam. 

God seems to be enjoying Himself.  We know this because after each new day’s list of creations, He’s so satisfied with His handiwork that He pronounces it good.  

He’s especially pleased about the creation of man, a being that He fashions in His own image. His labors completed, on day seven He takes a siesta.   

For this man, Adam, God creates a paradise, the Garden of Eden.

In exchange for light yard work, Adam is given the run of the place. He can go anywhere and eat any of the many delicious fruits the garden has to offer.

The only exception is the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. If he eats that fruit, God tells him, he will die.

Despite all these perks – San Diego weather, fresh mango, washboard abs –  Adam isn’t happy. His problem is the oldest one in human history – he’s lonely. So, God parades all the creatures he has made before Adam.

The first man names them all, but none fill the terrible void in his heart.

“Look, God,” Adam might have said, “I really like lions and tigers and I have soft spot for parakeets. But they just don’t do it for me. What can I tell you?”

Undeterred, God comes up with a new plan. He’ll create another being from Adam’s own flesh, specifically from his rib. This being, very much like, yet very different from Adam, is called Eve.

It’s love at first sight. She’s got it all. That includes a mind of her own.

And that mind is a very curious one. She meets up with a clever serpent who tells her that the reason God doesn’t want her and Adam eating from the tree of knowledge is not because they’ll die, but because once they eat the fruit, they’ll know the difference between good and evil — and that will make them like divine beings. 

Like God himself.

Sounds tempting.

Eve grabs a piece of fruit from the tree – the Torah doesn’t say apple, but that’s as good a guess as any – and takes a bite. She gives some to Adam, and he does the same.

Suddenly, husband and wife realize they’re naked, something they hadn’t even thought about before. They piece together some fig leaves and cover themselves up in shame.

At this moment, God enters the Garden. They hear him and hide.

God asks Adam where he is, and Adam replies that he’s hiding because he’s naked. “Who told you, you were naked?” God asks. “Did you eat from the tree from which I had forbidden you to eat?”

Adam points to his wife. “She made me do it.” Eve points to the serpent.

God doesn’t buy their feeble excuses. He knows what they’ve done — exactly what He said not to do.   

Punishment ensues.

The serpent will become a hated creature who will crawl over the earth; the woman will experience the terrible pain of childbirth, and the man will have to till the hard soil.

Furthermore, He kicks them out of the Garden. He’s not going to take any chances with the Tree of Life.  

Exiled from paradise, the couple have a son, Cain, and then, a second son, Abel.

Thus, the world’s first couple create the world’s first dysfunctional family. Abel grows up to be a shepherd, and Cain, a farmer. Abel offers God a sacrifice of sheep; Cain, a sacrifice of grain.

God likes Abel’s sacrifice better. Makes sense to me. Who doesn’t prefer a lamb chop over granola?

God takes note of Cain’s sour mood. He speaks to the farmer and offers him some advice, the first piece of advice in the Bible and as relevant today as it was then.

Why are you distressed?

And why is your face fallen?

Surely, if you do right

There is uplift.

But if you do not do right,

Sin crouches at the door.

Its urge is toward you,

Yet you can be its master.

Wise counsel, indeed. And proof positive that a loving God only wants the best for His creation and has granted us free will.

But Cain’s anger only builds. Rather than controlling himself, he loses control. He lures Abel into a trap and murders him.

Let’s pause to consider this for a moment. Who is Cain really angry at? Who has enraged him? Is it Abel? Or is it God whose approval he so desperately wanted? He can’t kill God, so he commits the evil act he can do — he kills Abel. He strikes at God by slaying his sibling. It’s futile, self-destructive, and all too human.

God, in a moment very similar to the one He had with Cain’s father, asks Cain where his brother is. In the famous phrase – virtually every line in this parsha is famous – Cain responds: “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

Of course, God knows what has happened to Abel just as He knew why Adam felt shame at being naked.

As Adam and Eve were punished, so is Cain. He must wander the earth, rootless and friendless, until he finally settles in the land of Nod, East of Eden.

There he starts a family of his own. If we take the Torah numbers literally his descendants live fantastically long lives, the record holder being Methuselah who makes it to 969.

God decides this is a little silly and puts the limit on human life at 120.

Many generations follow, each worse than the one before. We know this because by the time the Torah introduces us to the last generation, God has grown thoroughly disgusted with the human race — all its actions running — not walking — toward evil.

His creation experiment has gone full Frankenstein. Or as the Torah puts it in its understated way “The Lord regretted that He made man on earth and His heart was saddened.”  

Rather than continue the experiment, God decides to scrap it — why throw good clay after bad?

But then, He comes across a man He likes.

His name is Noah.

And that’s a brief summary of Torah portion B’ray’sheet. 


Allen Estrin is the Executive Director and Co-Founder of PragerU.

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