National Scholar Updates

            I’ll never forget what happened on my first trip to Israel.

            It was the summer I turned 25, and I had been working on Parliament Hill in Ottawa. At the time, I had been invited to join a parliamentary fact-finding mission organized by the Canadian Jewish community through the Canada-Israel Committee. 

            I had joined the trip having been raised a Christian in rural Canada—a world that can feel light years away from the Jewish community, let alone the Middle East. It was my first trip overseas and, suffice to say, I would experience many “I’m not in Kansas anymore” moments in our brief but packed time in Israel.

            Of all the remarkable sights, people, and conversations I would encounter, one that still resonates took place at the Kotel. A small group of us—all Canadians who were not Jewish—were standing in the men’s section of the plaza, observing this fascinating world in which we found ourselves. An Orthodox Israeli said something to us, possibly in Hebrew, and our guide responded to him. Apparently, he had asked if we were Jewish and would like to borrow tefillin, to which our guide politely responded that the group wasn’t Jewish. 

            The Orthodox man quickly and warmly responded in English: “Welcome to Israel!”

            Three simple words in an encounter I’m sure he would forget momentarily, and one that he no doubt had experienced many times before. But for me, it spoke volumes. 

            Here we were at a site of extraordinary holiness to a man who, by all appearances, took the holy very seriously. We were tourists soaking it all in and standing out in the crowd with our awkward, cardboard kippot.

            And yet, he made us feel welcome. Like we belonged there.

            When I share my story of choosing to become Jewish, I always speak of the power of that trip—and so many other serendipitous events that would draw me to discover the beauty of Am Yisrael and the beauty of our precious Torah. Little did I know back then that an unexpected moment at the Kotel would be a milestone on a journey into Zionism, Judaism, and ultimately dedicating my career to serving the Jewish people as an advocacy and communications professional. 

            In the years that followed, my spiritual path went hand-in-hand with my career path. I took a job at the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs (CIJA—the advocacy agency of Canada’s Jewish Federations) and, later, UJA Federation of Greater Toronto. In a world where Jews and Israel are so often misunderstood, if not outright maligned, I was passionate to make a difference. And I felt that my personal and professional background could make for a unique contribution. 

            So, too, my training in public opinion research—developed at a consulting firm I had joined after Parliament Hill—would give me a window into how Canadians view Jews, Israel, and antisemitism. Over the years, I would have the privilege of working on the research teams conducting some of the most important studies of Canadian public opinion on these issues, uncovering data trends and messaging proven to open minds and win allies for our cause.

            Those years of research, including data gathered in the wake of the heinous October 7^th attacks, revealed a wide range of nuanced findings that are perhaps best left to another essay. But in the context of the title topic of this article, I am reminded of a few findings that offer compelling evidence of the power of the personal model—the power of Kiddush Hashem—in shaping views of Jews beyond our community.

            In Canada, home to the Diaspora’s third-largest Jewish community, Jews constitute roughly one percent of the general population. Broadly speaking, the research is fairly consistent in terms of how Canadians perceive us. 

            When it comes to views of different religions, Judaism is among the most positively regarded, with favorability scores similar to Protestant Christianity. The only religion that typically surpasses Judaism in popularity among Canadians is Buddhism. Every other religion, including Catholicism and Evangelical Christianity, enjoys lower favorability scores than Judaism.

            But to be Jewish is, of course, also to be part of a people. And when it comes to views of Canadians of different ethnic or cultural backgrounds, Jews are similarly seen in very positive terms. The proportion of Canadians who have positive views of Jews is comparable to those who have a positive view of people of British or French origin, the two groups with the highest such scores in Canada (which is no doubt indicative of their relatively large representation within Canadian demography). Across studies, there is a consistent majority of Canadians who feel that Jews make a positive contribution to Canadian society. 

            On the other side of the ledger, the research certainly shows that antisemitism exists in Canada. Based on all of the studies I’ve worked on or reviewed, I would estimate that somewhere between ten and fifteen percent of Canadians hold clearly antisemitic views. Depending on the antisemitic trope being tested by a pollster, the numbers climb disturbingly higher than that threshold on particular questions. Most Canadians have little understanding or opinion either way when asked about antisemitic tropes. The issue is largely tabula rasa to a public that has devoted minimal consideration to a topic that appears to have no meaningful connection to their lives. However, as a general rule, when asked whether a respondent agrees with a particular antisemitic trope or conspiracy theory, for every one Canadian who agrees with such a hateful statement, there are approximately two Canadians who strongly disagree with these views. 

            A two-to-one ratio is, of course, an encouraging sign if one is marketing a product or a political party. But that’s not what we’re doing when we advocate for Jews, Israel, and—for that matter—fundamental human rights. Experience suggests that it doesn’t require a hateful majority for a society to cross an antisemitic Rubicon. It simply requires the forces of moderation to remain silent and preoccupied with other matters, while a loud and aggressive fringe dominates the discourse and shatters the boundaries of what’s socially acceptable—increasingly marginalizing and threatening Jews in the process. Of the many lessons we Diaspora Jews should urgently internalize from the post-October 7^th experience, it’s the danger posed by this dynamic. The question is: How do we combat it? 

            In 2022, I was privileged to be part of a team that conducted a public opinion study as a collaboration of CIJA, Federation CJA of Montreal, and UJA Federation of Greater Toronto. In addition to asking Canadians what they thought of Jews, Israel, antisemitism, and various related issues, we asked the question: Do you have a close Jewish friend or colleague? Nearly one in five respondents answered in the affirmative. We examined their views in depth, and the results were remarkable.

            Respondents who had a close Jewish friend or colleague were two times more likely to say that Jews make a positive contribution to Canadian society, as compared to those who did not have a personal connection to Jews. Similarly, those with a close Jewish friend or colleague were twice as likely to strongly oppose antisemitism, again compared to those without a personal relationship to a Jew.

            Prior to my conversion, I once spoke to a group of Jewish students in Ottawa, with whom I shared that they would be wise to see themselves as ambassadors for the Jewish people. Having grown up in a rural area where there are virtually no Jews, I shared with them that they may be the first and only Jew that someone meets—and that this comes with both opportunity and responsibility. Years later, I was seeing this principle come to life in the data before my eyes. The results were a stunning demonstration that, just as they say that all politics is local, the personal is powerful when it comes to how we understand people from different lived realities. 

            “Sanctifying the Name,”[i] a characteristically thoughtful essay by Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, zt”l, unpacks how the principle of Kiddush Hashem (sanctifying the divine name) has been interpreted by rabbonim throughout history. He notes that martyrdom is, of course, core to our understanding of Kiddush Hashem, citing the willingness of Jews to sacrifice themselves for their faith—be it at the hands of the Seleucid Greeks, the Romans, or the Crusaders. But Rabbi Sacks goes on to cite a passage from Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah, which has powerful import for our daily lives:

If a sage “speaks pleasantly to others, is affable and gracious, receives people pleasantly, never humiliates others even though they humiliate him and honors others even though they disrespect him…with the result that all praise him, love him, and approve of his deeds—such a person sanctifies God’s name. Of him, Scripture (Is. 49:3) says: “And He said to me: Israel, you are my servant, in whom I will be glorified.”

            Like most of us, I cannot credibly speak of what it means to be a sage. But as Jews who live in a free and democratic society—a society in which we can express our authentic selves to the world around us—we each have an opportunity to infuse the underlying principles of Kiddush Hashem in our daily lives. In this regard, the data seems to paint a compelling picture. By simply being openly Jewish and a good, relatable person, one has the power to strengthen the “brand” of the Jewish people and reduce antisemitism among their peers.

            To be sure, this is not to suggest a singular solution to antisemitism. Nor is it to imply that the same kindness and personal connection that creates allies among people of goodwill can somehow transform a hardened antisemite or protect our community from those who wish us harm. But it is to say that, in the fight against antisemitism, if we are solely focused on those who hate us, we are ignoring those who—with the right outreach—will stand with us and on the right side of history. 

            I would also argue that effective ally-building doesn’t begin by telling people beyond our community what they should think. Rather, as the data suggests, it begins by simply showing up as a good person—as reliable friend or colleague—who is openly Jewish, and therefore brings credit to the Jewish people.

            In today’s environment, it also seems clear that it isn’t enough to simply show up. At a time when antisemites are attempting to defame what it is to be Jewish, we need to own and define our identity—and not only for ourselves. We need to warmly share our experiences—our Passover sedarim, our Shabbat dinners, our Chanukah parties, our family histories, our photos and stories from our last trip to Israel, and so much more—because the humanization of the Jewish experience is a powerful antidote to the dehumanization of Jews. And as someone who has lived that journey of discovering the beautiful world of Jewish life, I have seen firsthand how we look from the outside in—and we need to open those windows wider than ever if we want a society of allies rather than bystanders.

            And last but not least, humanizing the Jewish experience also means humanizing the impact of the hate we’re facing. There is compelling psychological research to demonstrate the power of personal anecdotes. We can and must talk about history, hate crime statistics, and the geopolitical threats facing Israel and Jews. But if we talk in abstract terms—if we fail to share the personal impact of antisemitism on our families and communities—we risk giving the impression that this is an academic matter, rather than a threat that’s harming and hurting the people they care about: their close Jewish friends and colleagues.

            Welcome to Israel. If three simple words from a stranger can shift a paradigm and enter the heart, one can only begin to imagine the power of our personal example—through everyday acts in the spirit of Kiddush Hashem—on the lives of those around us.

On Wednesdays, May 7,14, 21, and 28, from 8:30-9:30 pm ET, Rabbi Hayyim Angel will teach a four-part Zoom series on the biblical book of Ezra-Nehemiah. We will consider the central themes of the book, and consider how strikingly relevant the book is to today's times.

The classes are sponsored by the Jewish Center of New York, and are free and open to the public.

Registration is required to join the class and receive the Zoom links, and sponsorship opportunities are available. To register and for more information, please go to this link:

https://www.jewishcenter.org/event/Ezra%20and%20Nehemiah 

            The High Holiday season—in the midst of which I am writing these words—calls on Jews to examine ourselves, to reflect on our moral and ethical shortcomings, and to seek ways of mending these faults so as to turn, or return, to the right path. Moreover, our tradition makes clear that we are to subject ourselves to this self-examination not just as individuals but collectively. The confessional sections of our liturgy are replete with verbs in the first-person plural. We, like our ancestors who came before us, have sinned. We have turned from God’s goodly laws and commandments. We have sinned against God, willingly and unwillingly. Not to mention entire piyyutim (liturgical poems) of more specific, concrete offenses to which we confess, knowing that we individually have not committed these acts but accepting collective moral responsibility for the possibility that someone in our community has.

            To be sure, Jews are not alone in being called to this effort of self-examination. The Puritans who founded my university and nurtured it in its early years likewise felt the obligation to probe their innermost consciousness, and not just once per year. Calvin wrote, "Let us … unremittingly examining our faults [and] call ourselves back to humility. Thus, nothing will remain in us to puff us up; but there will be much occasion to be cast down.” And in the same vein, “the more severe we are toward ourselves, and the more sharply we examine our own sins, the more we ought to hope that God is favorable and merciful toward us.” For Calvin, of course, and among the Puritans more generally, the emphasis on atonement and redemption that we find in our tradition is largely missing. Reflecting on one’s faults had religious value—“it could not happen otherwise than that the soul itself, stricken by dread of divine judgment, should act the part of an avenger in carrying out its own punishment,” and “those who are really religious experience what sort of punishments are shame, confusion, groaning, displeasure with self, and other emotions that arise out of a lively recognition of sin”—but when it came to possibilities for redemption, the non-elect were the non-elect, and that was that. By contrast, for Jews a large part of the motivation for self-examination is the desire to return: at the individual level to improve one’s personal behavior, and at the community level to repair the world in which it is our lot to live.

            This collective sense of moral responsibility for our world feels especially acute in the wake of the events of the past twelve months. Most obviously, for those living in Israel and in surrounding areas the past year has brought unspeakable atrocities, violence on a horrifying scale, and widespread death. But for us as Jews living in the United States, and especially in the privileged setting of a university like mine, the past year has also brought experiences no one wishes to relive, including repeated and sustained outbursts of raw bigotry of a kind rarely seen in our normally more elevated community. It is hardly surprising that this experience has brought forth a profusion of efforts to understand what has happened, and to search out the flaws in our community’s institutional make-up, and especially that of our universities, that have fostered these failings. More in keeping with the Jewish tradition than Calvinist thought, much of this effort is now devoted to considering changes for which the need is plainly urgent. 

            The twentieth-century theologian Langdon Gilkey observed that “what we believe is largely determined by where the evil seems to lie.” Over the past year we, meaning Jews but also the American polity more generally, have gained a new understanding of where the evil lies that has so devastatingly infected our lives. Although I hesitate to place too positive a gloss on this new understanding—to repeat, it has emerged as a consequence of events no one would choose to relive—there is moral value in seeking to make our world better, and to the extent that knowledge of our collective and institutional shortcomings is a necessary precursor to undertaking that improvement then it too has value. Gilkey was a theologian and I am not, and so I may well be using the word “believe” in a different sense than what he had in mind. But I am comfortable nonetheless with the notion that what we have learned has shaped our understanding in ways that signal what is to be done.

            I think we can apply this new understanding in two distinct areas. One concerns us directly as Jews. The other concerns our universities, but it turns out that we as Jews have something specific and important to bring to that effort as well.

            To begin with the Jewish world, following the events of the past year we now have a different sense of where the salient threat lies—not the armed threat to Israel, but the threat to the wellbeing and security of our own community here. Groups of fellow-citizens whom Jews have overwhelmingly supported in the past, and with whose fundamental goals we still feel resonance, have actively and aggressively arrayed themselves against Jewish interests and derisively dismissed Jewish concerns. Nor were these reactions a response to the violence of Israel’s response to the October 7 terrorist attack. Numerous groups were willing to proclaim their total lack of sympathy for the victims on the day the attack occurred, before Israel had launched any response whatever.

            What kind of values, we are entitled to ask, do these groups hold? And given whatever values they do hold, are we really obligated to support these groups? Simply seeking to promote one’s own interest, or one’s own group’s interest, is hardly a valid moral principle. That requires some broader, more universalistic basis. For all the reasons that our tradition so eloquently teaches, we sympathize and seek to ally ourselves with people who meet persecution, or discrimination, or other forms of unfair treatment. “You shall have one manner of law as well for the stranger as for one of your own country” is a valid moral principle and we are right to adhere to it, whoever is the “stranger” in question. But institutionalized groups who insist on this principle for themselves while denying it for others are not, in fact, principled. They forfeit their claim to our support on moral grounds. 

            In a similar vein, we have learned that familiar principles of civic engagement, most obviously free speech, are likewise subject not only to abuse (Jews have known this for centuries) but to misappropriation for self-serving purposes. As we look back on the past year, it is breathtaking how rapidly many in our universities have pivoted from full-throated advocacy of trigger warnings and safety zones to the notion that any verbal or written statements, even the vilest calumnies deliberately designed to provoke, humiliate and offend, are sacrosanct. Moreover, many of our students, and their supporters, now exhibit an understanding of free speech to mean not only that they are entitled to say whatever they want, about anything or anyone they choose, but, further, that there should never be any consequences to them for the content of that speech: freedom of speech somehow has come to encompass freedom from criticism for whatever one has said. Members of the Jewish community cannot help but notice that this stunning pivot from over-protection to anything-goes took place only once the identity of the people who might benefit from the protection against unlimited free speech, including hate speech, shifted from the traditionally shielded groups to Israelis, Zionists, and Jews. 

Yet more troubling at a practical level, and especially visible at our universities, is today’s invocation of the principle of free speech to defend acts that would plainly be prohibited if they were to be committed in a different context. Is someone impeding your ability to walk from one building to another? In the eyes of many of my faculty colleagues at Harvard, he’s merely exercising his right to free speech. Is someone blocking students from entering their classroom? Again, merely exercising free speech. Is someone shouting into a bullhorn so that our students can’t hear either the instructor or one another? Here too, all merely free speech. Roughly a half-century ago, as a then-young member of the Harvard faculty, I served on a committee that considered, among other questions, whether the university should have a separate disciplinary code for political offenses—in effect, analogous to the long-ago practice in Tsarist Russia. Suppose, for example, some student threw a brick and smashed a shop window on the street: should there be one penalty if he was simply drunk, and a different penalty if he meant the act as a political statement? Our committee voted not to have separate disciplinary systems; a violation was a violation, regardless of what inspired it. I thought that decision was right then, and I think it’s right now. Preventing other people from going about their everyday activities is not merely exercising free speech, no matter what the person doing the obstructing is saying.

In this context too, we as Jews do well to take notice of the different principles that many, again especially at our universities, seek to apply depending on the content of the speech. I am confident that most faculty members at most universities would sharply condemn disruptive actions by students and others calling to end affirmative action admissions while concealing their identity by placing over their heads white pillowcases marked with gold crosses. Today all too many of them, I fear, would view differently the identical disruptive acts committed by people calling for an end to the admission of students from Israel, while concealing their identity with white-and-black checkered dishtowels. 

Most urgent, I believe, is the need to prevent our public spaces, in the universities and elsewhere, from becoming areas where Jews do not feel comfortable going. In the 1930s, in Germany, Austria, Poland, and other European countries, everyone understood that urban public spaces were places where Jews were not welcome and should not go. We must not allow the public spaces of our American cities to become Jew-free zones. Here too, Gilkey was a theologian and I am not, and so all this may not constitute “evil” in the sense that he had in mind. But it constitutes an existential threat to our community, and for our purposes learning what that threat is and where it lies rightly shapes what we believe.

The second area in which what we have learned over the past year has changed our beliefs concerns our universities more specifically. At Harvard, I am glad to say, our leadership has at least voiced an intent to set the university on a path to useful reform. There is now widespread acknowledgement, as reflected in the recent report of the university’s working group on “open inquiry and constructive dialogue,” that in fact too much of our inquiry is not open and too much of our dialogue is not constructive. Many ideas that are widely held among the American population are, for practical purposes, impossible to express on our campus. The result is to circumscribe not only everyday conversation but the content of both teaching and research.

There is also now recognition that we too often fail to expose our students to ideas and even facts that challenge or extend the preconceptions with which they arrive here. In an earlier era, it was widely accepted that part of the purpose of a university education was precisely to lead students to question their pre-college perceptions. Max Weber wrote that “the primary task of a useful teacher is to teach his students to recognize ‘inconvenient’ truths.” In more recent times such notions have faded from view. In his address to our entering class at this year’s fall convocation, Harvard President Alan Garber recommended that each student make it a point to take at least one course that would likely make him or her feel uncomfortable. He likewise recommended that students deliberately place themselves in settings, either in the classroom or elsewhere, where they would encounter views with which they disagree. The contrast to the recent commitment to trigger warnings and safety zones is self-evident.

Part of the underlying problem, I believe, is the atomization of our society that our universities simply mirror. We attach enormous value to the diversity of the student body, at least in some dimensions, so much so that at my university we engage in hugely expensive and time-consuming litigation to preserve it. But once students are here, there is little effort to prevent their separating themselves into highly homogeneous enclaves. Our universities are, in microcosm, an example what my Harvard colleague Michael Sandel calls the “sky-boxification” of America—except that in this case it is not merely the wealthy and privileged who seek to separate themselves. None of this is new, and it is probably less true today than it was in the past. But it remains true nonetheless, and we now have a deeper understanding of the harm it does. Specifically, it shields our students from awareness of ideas and concerns from outside their narrow circles. It thereby blunts our efforts to educate them to become effective citizens of the republic.

Further, to the extent that views held in one circle may have as much claim to validity as those in another, this segmentation thwarts yet another aim of the education we seek to impart, namely the difficult and sometimes uncomfortable ability to cope with conflicting ideas. Scott Fitzgerald famously wrote that “the test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.” Over the past year we have seen the harm done by the lack of that ability. A building in Gaza is a Hamas arsenal? No, it’s a hospital. Jews have a right to self-determination in their own independent country? But Palestinians have a right to self-determination in their independent country. If two ideas are in tension, at most one can be right. The examples are endless.

The solution to this intellectual limitation surely does not rest on perfunctory training sessions administered to students by a constitutionally unsympathetic DEI bureaucracy. What is required is a more serious form of engagement, in which students and others do not simply hear about the value of considering competing world views but actively participate in doing so, both in the classroom and in other settings. One of the most rewarding pedagogical experiences I’ve had in my more than 50 years of university teaching was a course that for many years I co-taught with a close friend in the English Department. The object of the course was to explore how people from different intellectual disciplines view topics of common interest; I represented the social sciences, my colleague the humanities, and we had numerous guest speakers from the natural sciences. Our aim was not to cover over differences in viewpoint but instead to highlight them and explore them. Some of our disagreements were sharp. I recall, for example, that my English professor friend was (as he remains) a committed devotee of Henry David Thoreau. I find much of Thoreau not just wrong but wrong-headed. We sometimes had that debate in class, and it was a vigorous one. For the students who watched it, realizing that the two of us were, and remained, close friends was probably more educational than whatever either of us actually said.

And here I think we as Jews have a particular contribution to make to this effort. Jewish learning has always, and perhaps uniquely, emphasized the value of debate and disagreement.  The Talmud tells us that for three years the house of Shammai and the house of Hillel disagreed: these said the halakha is in accordance with our opinion, and those said the halakha is in accordance with our opinion. Ultimately, a divine voice emerged and proclaimed “both these and those are the words of the living God” (Eruvin 13b). The fact that the voice went on to say that halakha is in accordance with the opinion of the house of Hillel is almost beside the point. The Tosefta instructs us to “make for yourself a heart of many rooms, and enter into it the words of the house of Shammai and the house of Hillel.” 

The value Jewish learning places on disagreement also emphasizes the interpersonal aspect of the learning process. The education our universities provide should not be parallel play in a sandbox. We need to encourage our students to regard one another as partners in learning. The value Jewish tradition places on debate and disagreement as essential to the learning process appears perhaps most dramatically in the poignant and ultimately tragic story told of Rabbi Yohanan, one of the leading amoraim of the second generation, and his friend and study partner (as well as his brother-in-law) Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish—commonly called Reish Lakish—whom Rabbi Yohanan raised up from an unsavory background to become also one of the leading Torah scholars of the time. According to the Talmud (Bava Metzia 84a), one day, during the course of arguing a point of halakha, Rabbi Yohanan said something that offended Reish Lakish. The two men quarreled, which so affected Reish Lakish that he died. Rabbi Yohanan’s colleagues, recognizing the void left in his life, chose Rabbi Elazar ben Pedat as his new study partner. The story continues,

Rabbi Elazar ben Pedat went and sat before Rabbi Yohanan. With regard to every matter that Rabbi Yohanan would say, Rabbi Elazar ben Pedat would say to him, there is a ruling taught in a Baraita that supports your opinion. Rabbi Yohanan said to him, in my discussions with the son of Lakish, when I would state a matter he would raise twenty-four difficulties against me in an attempt to disprove my claim, and I would answer him with twenty-four answers, and the halakha would become broadened and clarified. And yet you say to me, there is a ruling taught in a Baraita that supports my opinion. Being rebutted by Reish Lakish served a purpose. Your bringing me proof to my statements does not.

Soon thereafter, Rabbi Yohanan went insane and then died.

The value of entertaining conflicting opinions, and of engaging in debate, reflects a further core principle that also belongs at the center of the education we seek to provide: The uncertainty that results from our innate human limitations. This principle, too, is essential to Jewish learning. Even for those who take the written Scriptures to be the sure words of the divine, the interpretation of these words is necessarily a human endeavor, and therefore subject to uncertainty and error. Learning about one’s own ignorance is also an important part of a university education. In Jewish learning, it is that essential human ignorance, and the inescapable uncertainty to which it gives rise, that renders disagreement and debate worthwhile. This does not mean, of course, that any claim, no matter how absurd or offensive, must be entertained. A community is entitled to rule some ideas out of bounds, and the community that gave us the Talmud did so. But disagreement and debate are key to how we learn, and not just when we are students in the narrow sense. They are also part of how we humans make intellectual progress.

The past year has been a difficult one for all of us, and unbearable for many. It has taught us some things we would prefer not to have known.  But we have lived through this experience, and we have learned from it. We now know that we can no longer count on what we thought we could count on. It is now our obligation to act accordingly. 

Op-Ed Pieces by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

Is the American Dream Imploding?

(This piece appeared in The Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, March 13, 2024.)

My middle name is Dwight.

That name symbolizes a great American story.

My grandparents, born in Turkey and the Island of Rhodes, arrived in the United States in
the first decades of the twentieth century. They settled in Seattle, Washington, in the emerging
community of Judeo-Spanish-speaking Sephardic Jews.

My mother’s father was a barber. My father’s father had a shoeshine stand. They arrived
in America with little money, little formal education, but great courage and hope. They left
impoverished communities in the old world to raise their families in the land of freedom and
opportunity.

Like most immigrants of that time, my grandparents wanted their families to adapt to
America. Their children attended public school and grew up as a transition generation between
the old world and the new. My generation were full-blooded Americans.

I was born in July, 1945, and named after my maternal grandfather Marco Romey. But
my mother added a middle name, Dwight, after General Dwight David Eisenhower. I was named
after an American hero. I was an organic part of American life.

In school, we pledged allegiance to the flag of the United States every day. We learned
about Washington and Jefferson and Lincoln. They were our forefathers. Our relatives served in
the American military. Our mothers and aunts knitted clothes for American soldiers. We were in
America not as guests but as equal members of society,

My generation, almost all the grandchildren of immigrants, were well educated, hard-
working and sincere believers in the American Dream. We were better educated and more
affluent than our grandparents—exactly as they had hoped would happen. Our goal was to be
constructive members of society and to contribute to the ongoing flourishing of America.

With our children and grandchildren, we thought that the American Dream would
continue to thrive and expand. But it seems that American society is increasingly marred by anti-
Semitism, racism, and violence. The virus of hatred has infected political life, universities, and
businesses. The virtues of America are often under-appreciated while the sins of America are
highlighted and exaggerated. America is undergoing a spiritual, social, and political implosion. It
has become difficult to feel that we are “one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and
justice for all.” The forces of hatred and divisiveness have become more brazen.

My middle name is Dwight, and I am proud to be a bearer of the American Dream. My
name symbolizes the dream of immigrants to identify with America, to become full-blooded
Americans. America is at risk of losing that dream. It needs to restore confidence and pride in
America as a bastion of freedom and opportunity, a land where people of all religions and races

can feel safe and secure, where everyone can work together for the betterment of society as a
whole.

Let us not forget the American struggles for freedom, democracy, and opportunity. Let us
build on the American Dream for ourselves and for our future generations.

I want to believe in that future, sure as my middle name is Dwight.
 
The Hatred Syndrome
(This piece appeared in The Jewish Link, April 11, 2024.)

It is a strange feeling to be hated by people who don’t know you and don’t want to know
you. It is perplexing to hear people calling for your death and the death of all your people
without ever considering your humanity, your goodness, your contributions to society.

Haters don’t see their victims as fellow human beings. They create and foster ugly
stereotypes. They promote outrageous conspiracy theories that dehumanize their targets.
Hatred is an ugly thing. It not only promotes hatred of the perceived enemy, but it distorts
the lives of the haters themselves. Energy and resources that could be utilized to build
compassionate societies are instead diverted to hatred, weaponry, death, and destruction.

We have always been aware of an undercurrent of anti-Semitic and anti-Israel attitudes,
but things today seem qualitatively and quantitatively different. We witness throngs of people
throughout the United States and throughout the world who brazenly and unabashedly call for
the annihilation of Israel and the murder of Jews. The public display of raw hatred is alarming.

I suspect that many of those spewing hatred of Israel and Jews don’t even know Israelis
or Jews in person. They don’t hate actual Jews; they hate stereotypes of Jews. They are
indoctrinated with propaganda and are fed a stream of lies about Israel and about Jews. The
haters are steeped in their hateful ideology and are not interested in civil dialogue and
relationship with actual Jews and Israelis. They know little or nothing about the connection of
Jews to the land of Israel going back thousands of years, from biblical times to the present.

So why do so many haters take aim at Jews and Israel? Some of this hatred stems from
anti-Jewish religious teachings. Some of it stems from jealousy at the phenomenal success of
such a tiny group. Some people spew hatred as a way of making themselves seem important, as
though picking on Jews somehow makes them appear stronger and braver.

Erich Fromm has written of the syndrome of decay that “prompts men to destroy for the
sake of destruction and to hate for the sake of hate.” Many people poison their own lives with
hatred and only feel truly alive and validated when they express hatred of others.

When societies allow hatred to flourish, they are sowing the seeds of their own
destruction. When universities, media, and political forums condone blatantly anti-Jewish
intimidation and violence, the infection spreads well beyond Jews. Civil discourse is threatened.
Respectful dialogue is quashed.

All who stand for a civil society must not be intimidated by the haters, bullies, and
supporters of terrorism. The syndrome of hate eats away at the foundations of society. It must not
be allowed to prevail.

Rav Nahman of Bratslav taught: The whole world is a narrow bridge (precarious), but the
essential thing is not to be afraid, not to be afraid at all.

Thoughts on Israel and the Jewish Future
(This piece appeared in The Jerusalem Post, April 30, 2024.)

In the short term, things look very difficult. Israel is in the midst of military
confrontations with Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran. In spite of the remarkable achievements of the
IDF in Gaza, the war lingers on with no clear end in sight. Israel faces increasing international
censure from the United Nations, the International Court, and from political leaders around the
world. American college campuses are rife with anti-Israel activity. Radical Hamas supporters
unashamedly call for the destruction of Israel and the murder of Jews.

We all feel the pain and the pressure. We are going through a protracted nightmare. And
it won’t likely get better in the short term.

But the crisis will pass, sooner (hopefully!) or later. How can things change for the better
in the long term?

Israel must conclude its war in Gaza as quickly and effectively as possible. It must work
with allies to put into place a responsible Palestinian leadership that will eschew ongoing warfare
and that will work peacefully with Israel for the benefit of all. It cannot ignore the Palestinian
issue or let it fester endlessly. 

Israel has taken great strides forward through the Abraham Accords. The more Arab and
Muslim countries recognize Israel, the more secure Israel becomes. Formal diplomatic relations
with Saudi Arabia would be a potential game changer in the Middle East. Aside from the
political and economic benefits, it would undercut the hateful voices that call for Israel’s
destruction. It would make it clear that Israel is strong, creative, and a genuine partner with other
nations seeking a harmonious region.

While short-term challenges must be faced courageously, we need to focus on long-term
resolutions of problems. It isn’t realistic to expect that the deep hatred of our enemies will
dissipate overnight. The ugly anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism that have exploded in recent
months will not suddenly cease. But visionary leadership can help us move gradually and
intelligently beyond the problematic status quo. In spite of all the battles and threats, we need to
formulate sensible strategies to bring us to a lasting peace.

We need to be strong to defend ourselves from our enemies; but we need special strength
and blessing to work for and attain peace. Indeed, it may well be more difficult to achieve peace
than to win wars. 

“The Lord gives strength to His people, may the Lord bless His people with peace.”

Beyond Victimhood: A Positive Jewish Message
(This piece appeared in The Jerusalem Post, May 29, 2024.)

The Holocaust, understandably, haunts the Jewish people. We can never forget the
millions of Jews who were tortured and murdered by the Germans and their collaborators.
Whenever a crisis erupts that threatens Jews, there is an almost visceral reaction to call up the
memory of the Holocaust.

After the Hamas massacre of Israelis on October 7, the Jewish media were quick to report
that this was the highest number of Jews murdered in a single day since the Holocaust.
In attempting to combat anti-Semitism in New York, a program was initiated to bring all
eighth-grade students to the Museum of Jewish Heritage, where they could learn about the

Holocaust. When international leaders visit Israel, a visit to Yad Vashem is almost always part of
the itinerary.

The prevailing wisdom is that when people—especially young people—learn about the
horrors of the Holocaust, they will become more sympathetic toward Jews and aware of the
dangers of religious and racial hatred. With more knowledge about the Holocaust, it is assumed
that people will be less prone to anti-Semitic attitudes and behaviors.

The various efforts at Holocaust education have had a positive impact on many. And yet,
Holocaust education—unless handled very well—can have negative consequences. For those
steeped in anti-Jewish hatred, the Holocaust may actually encourage their anti-Semitism. They
view Jews as a despised minority group that is an easy target for hatred and violence. They see
that millions of Jews were systematically slaughtered while much of the world stood aside. In the
minds of rabid Jew-haters, the Holocaust is an ideal, not a disaster.

While maintaining the memory of the Holocaust is surely very important, we need also to
project a positive image of Jews, Judaism, and Zionism. Much of the anti-Semitism we face
today is directly related to anti-Zionism. We need to focus on conveying the historical
connection of the Jewish people to our land going back to biblical days.

Even after being exiled from the Land of Israel several times over the millennia, in the
last instance at the hands of the Romans in 70 CE, the Jewish People have continued to live in,
pray for, and dream of a return to their historic homeland.

After nearly 1,900 years, the Jews gained sovereignty over their land with the
establishment of the modern State of Israel. This is one of the most amazing adventures in
human history. For an ancient people to return to their historic homeland and build a dynamic,
democratic society is an unprecedented story of courage, faith, and persistence.

Our story is truly inspiring and full of hope, spirituality, creativity, courage, and
resilience. Despite all the hurdles we have had to face—and still face—the Jews are a strong and
vibrant people. We need to tell our story in a confident voice—not as propaganda, not in sound
bites, but in a sophisticated and intelligent way that will convey the power of the Jewish
experience.

The re-emergence of a sovereign Jewish state is a remarkable historic achievement. Yet,
as we know, it has not been received with love or understanding by many in the Arab world. In
particular, we face those who foster the Hamas ideology that negates the Jewish right to our own
land.

The goal of the haters, by their own admission, is the destruction of Israel and the Jewish
people. And while wars on the battlefield can achieve military victories for Israel, ultimate
victory will come only when the ideology of hatred is defeated. Just as Israel devotes so much
courage and brilliance to its physical defense, it needs to devote equal—and more—courage and
brilliance to fighting the murderous ideology that has infected many beyond Hamas.
To combat this ideology of hatred, we need more than Holocaust education.

We need a powerful, positive presentation of Jewish history, Jewish connection to the
land of Israel, Jewish idealism, and Jewish striving for peace and mutual understanding.
We would do well to remember the prophecy of Isaiah (42:6), who relates God’s
wondrous promise to the people of Israel that they will become “a light unto the nations.” We
need to focus on the light; on what we have given, are giving, and can give to the world.
Isaiah (51:3) foresaw a time like ours when the wasteland that was Israel turned into a
beautiful and thriving country: “For the Lord comforts Zion; He comforts all her waste places

and makes her wilderness like Eden, her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness will
be found in her, thanksgiving and the voice of song.”
That is Zionism, that is Judaism, that is the aspiration of the Jewish people.

 
Refining Our Messaging on Anti-Semitism
(This piece appeared in The Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, August 20, 2024.)

 We are rightfully concerned with anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism, and we are quick to
publicize every instance of malice and injustice against our people. Our media decry the spread
of Jew-hatred. Our various spokespeople lament the increase in anti-Semitic acts, especially
since October 7.

It is important to expose and combat anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism with all our might.
But is our messaging unwittingly actually leading to an increase in Jew-hatred?

In his book, Subliminal, Dr. Leonard Mlodinow discusses a surprising phenomenon.
Public service announcements sometimes backfire. For example, some ads urge visitors to
national parks not to litter. In one controlled study, an ad denounced littering—and this resulted
in less littering. But another ad included the phrase “Americans will produce more litter than
ever.” This ad actually led to an increase in littering. Dr. Mlodinow points out that the subliminal
message of the latter ad is that it’s really okay to litter; everyone is doing it! (pp. 170–171).

When people are constantly told that anti-Israel sentiment is rampant, subliminally at
least some of them will think: It’s okay to hate Israel, lots of people do. If people are given
statistics that anti-Semitic or anti-Israel acts are increasing dramatically, at least some of them
will conclude that if so many people hate Jews and Israel, it’s okay for me to do so also. 
Publicizing anti-Israel and anti-Jewish behavior can be a double-edged sword. We need
the world to know what’s happening and rally good people to fight the injustices against us. But
by highlighting how many people hate us, we actually may be encouraging closet anti-Semites to
come out into the open with their venom. The more visibility anti-Semites have, the more they
create a snowball effect drawing others into the hatred syndrome.

In another of his books (Emotional), Dr. Mlodinow writes about psychological contagion.
Research is being done about “the spread of emotion from person to person or throughout an
organization or even an entire society” (p. 184). When crowds get fired up against Israel and
against Jews, the hatred can become “contagious.” It is difficult to combat this type of
psychological contagion; but just condemning it will not make it disappear.

We fight the anti-Semites and anti-Zionists by strengthening our own communities; by
insisting on prosecution of hate crimes; be electing pro-Israel officials; by working with good
people to foster civil society. But we also have to promote positive messaging to the general
public.

Instead of constantly publicizing the increase in anti-Jewish words and deeds, we ought
to be emphasizing the many millions of people who admire and support Israel and Jews. Instead
of giving front page attention to anti-Israel “celebrities” we ought to highlight the pro-Israel
voices and reserve the bad actors for the back pages. 

The overwhelming majority of the public abhors terrorism. They resent “activists,” i.e.,
haters who block highways, disrupt college campuses, vandalize businesses, attack innocent
individuals on the basis of religion, race, nationality, or other reasons. Instead of the media

showering so much attention on the haters, we should be demanding even more attention on
those who promote civility, mutual respect, and intergroup cooperation.
We certainly must condemn and fight anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism. But our
messaging must be positive and must draw on the goodwill of millions of people who appreciate
the values of Israel and the Jewish People. 

An Israeli Peace Initiative
(This piece appeared in The Jerusalem Post, August 25, 2024.)

 Maimonides described messianic times as an era when Israel would simply be left alone
in peace. In his Mishneh Torah, in the “Laws of Kings and Wars” (12:4), he writes: “The Sages
and the prophets did not yearn for the messianic era in order to have dominion over the entire
world, to rule over the gentiles, to be exalted by the nations, or to eat, drink, and celebrate.
Rather, they desired to be free to involve themselves in Torah and wisdom without any pressures
or disturbances, so that they would merit the world to come.”

Imagine a time when Israel—and the Jewish People as a whole—would not be subject to
hatred, violence, terrorism, or war. Imagine a time when we could devote all our energies to our
minds and spirits, to maintaining a righteous and prosperous society. Unfortunately, we still live
in an unredeemed world, and the messianic dream seems further away than ever. But we must
not give up on this goal.

At present, Israel is engaged in conflict with Hamas, various Palestinian terror groups,
Hezbollah, the Houthis, and, of course, Iran. The Jewish State is also confronted with a growing
number of countries that are choosing to recognize a Palestinian state without due concern for
Israel’s vital interests. Jews in the Diaspora are facing anti-Semitism in the media, on college
campuses, and by pro-Palestinian mobs.

How can we dream of a time of peace when our current reality is very far from being
peaceful? The answer is that we must not abandon our dream, regardless of all the negative
elements in our world. We must envision and work for a new era of peace.

However, it appears hopelessly naïve to speak of peace at a time like this. The haters are
not interested in peace, unashamedly calling for the annihilation of Israel and the murder of
Jews. Islamic fundamentalism and Palestinian nationalism fan the hatred. Iran uses its power and
money to foster violence against Israel. The animosity seems intractable.

Does it make sense to plan for the “day after” when that day seems so remote? On the
other hand: Does it make sense not to plan for the “day after”?

Our real enemy is hatred. 

It is hatred that fuels Iran, Palestinian terrorists, and anti-Semites in general. It isn’t likely
that we’ll be able to eradicate all hatred, but we can make inroads and turn the tide.
Dr. Leonard Mlodinow of Cal Tech, in his book Emotional, discusses “psychological
contagion” through which attitudes are transmitted. He reports on research regarding “the spread
of emotion from person to person or throughout an organization or even an entire society” (p.
184). A psychological climate emerges that draws people into the “contagion.” Certain ideas and
attitudes take on a snowball effect. The contagion cannot be staunched unless a powerful
“counter-contagion” takes hold.

When crowds get fired up against Israel and against Jews, the hatred is “contagious.”
Haters are emboldened when others are drawn into their group. The more haters, the more people
are driven to commit violent acts and speak malicious words.

Israel needs to undertake a serious peace offensive. 

It has demonstrated its amazing military prowess and must continue to be as powerful as
possible. At the same time, it can help create positive “psychological contagion” that will draw
people to its vision for a peaceful future.

Israel has already made dramatic strides forward with the Abraham Accords. It would be
significant if Israeli leaders would publicly meet with the leaders of the Arab countries included
in the accords. The world needs to see that Israel and Arab nations respect and cooperate with
each other. 

People need to sense that a wider network of peaceful relations is possible.
The world also needs to hear from Israeli Arabs who are demonstrating allegiance to
Israel and working with Israeli Jews to build a better society. Israeli Arabs are successful in so
many ways. Their stories are very important.

Israel and Saudi Arabia have been considering a path toward mutual recognition. If this
can be achieved, it will be a dramatic step on the path to a wider regional détente.
At present, the ayatollahs have firm control in Iran, but it is possible that, at some point,
the opposition will rise and topple the regime. If Iran can be freed of Islamic fundamentalist rule,
there can be an opening for civil relations with Israel. We must make it clear—loudly and
often—that we have no interest in war with Iran.

As Israel promotes a serious peace initiative, it will need to relate to the Palestinian
people. The status quo of ongoing terrorism and war is certainly not in the interest of Israel, and
not in the interest of the Palestinians. It does seem almost impossible at this time to find a
responsible Palestinian leadership that will negotiate reasonably with Israel; there have been so
many failed attempts in the past. But our long-term vision must transcend the current realities
and plan strategically for a long-term détente with the Palestinians.

A serious peace initiative is in Israel’s interest. It will help turn back the anti-Israel and
anti-Semitic psychological contagion and replace it with a growing respect and support for Israel
and the Jewish people.

Maimonides taught that our goal for messianic times is simply to be left in peace, to be
free of hatred and wars. We need to keep this goal in mind—and work to bring this vision into
reality.
 
Blessings and Curses

(This piece appeared in The Jerusalem Post, October 31, 2024.)

“And I will bless them that bless you, and anyone who curses you I will curse” (Bereishit
12:3).

God called on Abram to move from his birthplace and to set off for a new land. Abram
was to lay the foundations for a righteous society that recognized the One God and that
repudiated all forms of idolatry. God promised Abram that he would be a blessing to all the
families of the earth.

Setting new standards of faith and morality, Abram would attract followers. But he would
also be the target of enemies who resented his teachings. So God reassured Abram that God will

bless those who bless him and curse those who curse him. God’s promise is echoed in the
blessing later given to the Israelites by Bilam: “Blessed be everyone who blesses you, and cursed
be everyone who curses you” (Bemidbar 24:9).

 Throughout the history of our people, surely there have been many who have been
blessed by their blessing us. Many millions of people have led happier and more meaningful
lives by their attachment to the Hebrew Bible. Many have blessed, and have been blessed by, the
many contributions of the Jewish People to civilization.

Likewise, throughout history, there have been many who have cursed us and have
committed every sort of atrocity against us. But in what ways have they themselves been cursed
by God? It sometimes (often?) feels that the haters are not subjected to the wrath of God. In our
own times, we see anti-Semites/anti-Zionists eagerly cursing and threatening us. Although we
are blessed with a strong State of Israel and a robust diaspora community, the enemies are
relentless. We wonder: In what way is God cursing those who curse us?

Perhaps God’s blessings and curses are not externally imposed, but are consequences of
people’s own choices in life.

The Torah presents two paths for humanity. The positive essence of Judaism teaches us
to choose life, love our fellow human beings, serve the Lord faithfully. All who attach
themselves to these ideals are themselves blessed. They live constructive, love-filled lives. Their
faith strengthens them in good times and bad.

But those who curse us and our teachings are thereby choosing a destructive way of life.
Their hatred poisons their lives. By cursing us and what we represent, they actually bring a curse
upon themselves.

When the State of Israel was established in 1948, the Arab world exploded in hatred of
the Jewish State. In all these years, Palestinians and supporters have invested billions of dollars
in weaponry, tunnels, anti-Israel boycotts. What is the result of all this hatred? Instead of having
a peaceful and prosperous Palestinian society, the Palestinians are cursed with an ongoing legacy
of hatred, violence, and loss of life. They have raised generations of haters rather than
generations of those who choose life, who bless Israel as a partner in peace and prosperity.
More generally, those who curse and hate Israel thereby undermine their own lives.
Instead of devoting their energies, talents and resources in constructive ways, they embrace a
negative way of life.

When God assured blessings for those who bless Israel and curses for those who curse
Israel, these were not idle promises. They are fulfilled every day of the week.
We surely would like the haters to re-think their destructive ways and free themselves of
the curses they have brought upon themselves and others.

Those who choose blessing and life are themselves blessed. Those who choose cursing
and death are themselves cursed.
 
Reclaiming Bible Zionism

(This piece appeared in The Jewish Link, December 12, 2024.)
 

What is Zionism after all?

The term seems to have originated in the 1890s by Nathan Birnbaum, founder of the
Kadimah nationalist Jewish students’ movement. Theodor Herzl popularized the term as the
expression of the Jewish People’s national aspiration to return to their historic homeland in Zion.

The term “Zionism” is often used by friends and enemies of Israel without proper
reference to its historic roots in biblical times. Zionism didn’t just pop up in a vacuum, as though
it was a new and artificial framework for Jews to return to their land. Although the term as a
political movement dates from the late nineteenth century, it in fact encapsulates thousands of
years of Jewish attachment to their historic homeland.

Zion is mentioned over 150 times in the Hebrew Bible. While originally referring to
Mount Zion, it came to refer to Jerusalem and then to all the land of Israel.

Rabbi Dr. Henry Pereira Mendes, who was associated with the historic Spanish and
Portuguese Synagogue of New York from 1877 to 1937, advocated what he called “Bible
Zionism.” He was proud of the fact that Theodor Herzl asked his cooperation in organizing the
Zionist movement in the United States. Dr. Mendes was elected vice-president of the Federation
of American Zionists and a member of the actions committee of the World Zionist Organization.
He believed that Zionism had the goal of establishing a Jewish State founded upon the principles
and ideals of the Jewish religious tradition. In a letter to Haham Gaster of London (July 21,
1903), Dr. Mendes wrote: “Here is true work for Zionists: to keep Hebrews true to Jewish life,
Jewish law, Jewish sentiment.”

Dr. Mendes taught that “Bible Zionism” aspired to go beyond simply providing a
homeland for Jews. It had a universal message and goal: “Peace for the world at last and the
realization of reverence for God by all men. These are the essentials for human happiness.
Zionism stands for them.”

We rarely hear about “Bible Zionism” from Israeli political leaders, media, or the various
Zionist organizations worldwide. But wouldn’t it be nice if leaders and opinion makers reclaimed
“Bible Zionism” and reminded the world at every opportunity of the biblical roots of Zionism?

“Bible Zionism,” as Rabbi Mendes pointed out, has a dual agenda. It stresses the national
aspirations of the Jewish People to live in their own historic homeland and foster their religious
and cultural traditions. The prophet Isaiah foresaw that Jews will “come to Zion with songs and
everlasting joy upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing will
flee away” (Isaiah 35:10). He taught that “Zion will be redeemed with justice and those that
return to her with righteousness” (1:27).

But “Bible Zionism” also points to the ultimate victory of justice and righteousness for
Israel and the entire world. Isaiah taught that many people shall come to Zion “for out of Zion
shall go forth Torah and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem” (Isaiah 2:3). Isaiah looked to the
day when “the nations shall see your righteousness and all kings your glory” (62:1–2). The
prophet Zechariah (8:3) taught that the Lord has returned to Zion and that “Jerusalem shall be
called the city of truth and the mountain of the Lord of hosts the holy mountain.” Zion was to be
a bastion of truth, justice and wisdom for the entire world.

Recent months have seen ugly manifestations of anti-Zionism throughout the world. The
haters have distorted the meaning and mission of Zionism. We need to embrace “Bible Zionism”
in every forum to set the record straight.

 The Psalmist sang (122:6): “Pray for the peace of Jerusalem; they who love you will
prosper; peace be within your walls, prosperity within your palaces.” Just as those who love and
support Zion will be blessed, the Psalmist warns (129:5): “May all who hate Zion be put to
shame and turned back.”

As for us, we must heed the words of Isaiah (62:1–2): “For the sake of Zion I will not
hold my peace, and for the sake of Jerusalem I will not be still, until her righteousness goes forth
like radiance and her salvation like a burning torch.”

Surprised by Anti-Semitism/Anti-Zionism? Yes and No

(This article appeared in The Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, December 23, 2024.)

Although Jews have faced anti-Semitism from time immemorial, it always comes upon
us as something new. It surprises us. We don’t understand it.

We strive to be good people, good citizens; we are kind-hearted and generous. We devote
ourselves to the education of our children, to the betterment of society, to justice and
compassion. We have our share of faults along with all other human beings; but by and large, we
are a good, responsible, hard-working community.

And yet, no matter what we do, people hate us! They don’t see us as individual human
beings but as a vast stereotype. They don’t care if we are religious or not religious; if we are
liberals or conservatives. If we are Jewish, they are against us and want to hurt us.
It was once thought that the establishment of the State of Israel would bring anti-
Semitism to an end. After all, Jews would then have a feeling of security in the world, a safe
haven where no one would bother us.

But the Jewish State has simply become a new target for the anti-Semites. They now
couch Jew-hatred for hatred of “the Zionists.” Anti-Semites don’t have a problem with Hamas
firing thousands of missiles at civilian centers in Israel; but when Israel responds by bombing the
enemy, Israel is immediately condemned and vilified by the haters. For the anti-Semites, Israel is
always wrong regardless of what it does or doesn't do.

Happily, there are many millions of people who feel warmly toward Jews and the Jewish
State. Happily, many millions of people admire the accomplishments of the State of Israel in the
face of so many obstacles; they respect Israel’s right—and obligation—to defend its citizens.
But when we see outbreaks of blatant anti-Jewish violence, anti-Jewish rhetoric, anti-
Israel demonization—it surprises and pains us!  In spite of thousands of years dealing with anti-
Jewish hatred and persecution, we still are not used to it. We somehow think that humanity will
improve, will judge us fairly. We grow optimistic at any sign of peace and understanding, mutual
cooperation, and solidarity.

We keep telling ourselves that most people are good and that reason will ultimately
prevail. The haters will eventually overcome malice and violence; they will realize the value of
peaceful and respectful cooperation. In a world of over seven billion human beings, surely there
must be room for the infinitesimal presence of 15 million Jews. In a world with so many
countries, surely there must be room for one tiny Jewish State that wants nothing more than to be
able to live in peace and security.

But the anti-Semites and anti-Zionists don’t really care. They don’t want to be reasoned
with; they don’t want to listen. They have their agenda of hate.

Saul Bellow, the American novelist who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1976,
wrote in his book To Jerusalem and Back: A Personal Account: “…There is one fact of Jewish
life unchanged by the creation of a Jewish state: you cannot take your right to live for granted.
Others can; you cannot. This is not to say that everyone else is living pleasantly and well under a

decent regime. No, it means only that the Jews, because they are Jews, have never been able to
take the right to live as a natural right….This right is still clearly not granted them, not even in
the liberal West.”

Bellow’s complaint is not new. Jews throughout the generations have had to face the
same stark reality: Jews, because they are Jews, cannot take the right to live as a natural right.
That’s the sad part of the story.

But that’s not the end of the story. Even if there has long been hatred and violence
directed against Jews…we are still here! We continue to live, to thrive, to hope.
The late Jewish thinker, Simon Rawidowicz, wrote an essay about “Israel: The Ever-
Dying People.” He noted that Jews have often felt that theirs was the last Jewish generation.
Jewish survival seemed hopeless. But although we were “ever-dying,” we were in fact ever-
living! We often felt despair; but hope and persistence prevailed. Jews found ways to overcome
all who would decimate us.

Although current manifestations of anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism are ugly and painful,
we must take the long view of things. This isn’t the first period of Jewish history where Jews
faced viciousness and violence. It likely won’t be the last period either. But long experience has
taught us to stay strong, stay confident, stay positive. The challenge to our generation is to stand
tall as Jews, to stand strong on behalf of Israel.

And we do look forward to a time when humanity will overcome the disease of anti-
Semitism. Meanwhile, we recall the words of Rav Nahman of Bratslav: All the world is a narrow
bridge; the essential thing is not to be afraid, not to be afraid at all.

Over Shabbat, May 16-17, Rabbi Hayyim Angel served as scholar-in-residence in Congregation Shaare Torah, in Pittsburgh, PA. He delivered four talks, blending the synthesis of traditional and academic approaches to Tanakh and also highlighting how learning more about Sephardic and Ashkenazic (and other) customs enriches us all. This Shabbat was yet another opportunity to reach communities nation-wide with our outlook and ideology at the Institute.

Rabbi Hayyim Angel's next stops will be: Congregation Shaare Tefillah, Teaneck, NJ; and Young Israel of Oak Park, Michigan. Stay tuned for more information!

(From The Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, September 21, 2024)

When we discuss Israel’s image, we rarely mention the obvious: Since the founding of
the state, Israel’s image has been dominated by white Ashkenazim: From Ben Gurion to
Weitzmann to Dayan to Golda to Peres to Begin to Rabin to Herzog to Sharon to Olmert to Livni
to Bennett to Lapid to Gantz to Gallant to Smotrich to Levin and, of course, to Netanyahu and
countless others, the white Ashkenazic Jew has been front and center in the global media
coverage of Israel.

This is absolutely not a criticism; it’s more of an observation.
But it’s also a missed opportunity for those who worry about improving Israel’s image.
There’s a tendency among those in the “hasbara” world to take the idea of image
figuratively. That is, when they talk about Israel’s image, they don’t mean a real image; they
mean a general perception of Israel that needs to be improved.

This is how we end up obsessed with talking points and arguments. We need facts! We
need education! We need to correct the lies!

Yes, but somehow, no one ever says we need new pictures.

We assume, in other words, that the best way to fix Israel’s image is through words and
arguments rather than through actual images.

The irony is that as we exert ourselves to correct the lies against Israel, one epic lie
remains untouched: The lie that Israel is a white country. But where do we think this lie comes
from? It comes mostly from Israel itself, from the simple fact that virtually every person who
represents Israel in the media is a white Ashkenazi. The good news is that this can be fixed by
being more accurate and recognizing the multicultural diversity that makes Israeli society so
vibrant.

“Only about 30% of Israeli Jews are Ashkenazic, or the descendants of European Jews,”
Hen Mazzig wrote a few years ago in The Los Angeles Times. “I am baffled as to why
mainstream media and politicians around the world ignore or misrepresent these facts and the
Mizrahi story. Perhaps it’s because our history shatters a stereotype about the identity of my
country and my people.”

Very true, but let’s recognize that this stereotype is also what Israel presents to the world.
It would be a lot harder for the mainstream media to ignore Israel’s multicultural nature if
Mizrahim and other Israelis of color would be fully integrated in its media relations.
I was reminded of this at a talk last Friday by Dr. Duygu Atlas, a Muslim-Israeli historian
who lives in Tel Aviv. She was discussing a new initiative, Muslims Connect with Israel (MCI),
that she hopes will change the way Israelis are perceived and understood by Muslim societies.

She kept coming back to this key point: The best way to talk about Israel and break down
stereotypes is to show its cultural and ethnic diversity.
In an ideal colorblind world, maybe none of this would matter. But that’s not the world
we live in. Color matters. Culture matters. Diversity matters. If Israel is so ethnically diverse,
why not show it?

(Indeed, the same applies to American Jewry and its leadership: If Jews in America today
are so ethnically diverse, why not show it? Why not integrate Mizrahim and Jews of color in the
communal leadership? We like to go on about the importance of diversity and inclusion, but
what are we doing at the leadership level to show a more diverse and accurate Jewish face in the
mainstream media?)

Here’s a suggestion for pro-Israel activists on social media: Fewer words, more pictures.
In addition to your regular talking points, blast your networks with hundreds of images of Israelis
from all corners of the globe who are anything but the white Jewish stereotype people see in the
media.

Same goes for philanthropists who buy billboards and advertising to “make the case for
Israel”; a picture is worth a thousand clever phrases. Use striking images that celebrate the ethnic
kaleidoscope of the Jewish state. Title it “Israel in Living Color.” Nothing breaks the ice like true
ethnic diversity.

For the Israeli government, if they want their communication to have more impact,
there’s no better place to start than to have “spokespeople in living color.”
“In living color” is the true face of Israel and the Jewish people. White is not. “In living
color” adds complexity and nuance to the conversation about Israel and the many challenges
facing the Jewish world.

“I am Mizrahi,” Mazzig wrote, “as are the majority of Jews in Israel today. We are of
Middle Eastern and North African descent.”
After 76 years of conveying one image based mostly on one ethnicity, it’s high time
Israel and world Jewry show their true colors to the world.

Israel Defends the Cult of Life

(From The Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, October 1, 2024)
If you want a deeper understanding of Israel’s situation in the Middle East, a good place
to start is the website of the Jaffa Hotel in Tel Aviv, which came up recently under a list of the
world’s finest hotels. The Jaffa was the only entry from Israel.

What caught my eye was that in the charming area of Jaffa where the hotel is located, two
terrorists murdered seven civilians and wounded 17 others in the deadliest terror attack since
Oct. 7. The assault occurred on Tuesday evening, just as Iran was launching hundreds of ballistic
missiles at Israel.

Here in America, it’s easy to get morally confused in the fogs of war. When bombs are
flying everywhere and people are dying everywhere, whether in Gaza or Lebanon or Tel Aviv,
things tend to blur. People with big hearts like to call on all sides to just stop the killing.
This moral blurring, however, is not just wrong but dangerous, especially for the side that
didn’t start the killing.

The missiles from Iran and its terror proxies are not the same as the Iron Dome missiles
from Israel. The soldiers from Israel’s army are not the same as the terrorist soldiers from Hamas
or Hezbollah. Aiming to murder civilians is not the same as aiming to kill terrorists.
When Israel is at war, a Cult of Life is forced to defend itself against a Cult of Death.
It’s astonishing that this even needs to be said, given that it’s been true for so long and
that Israel’s enemies have never pretended to be anything but an anti-Israel death cult.
For decades now, Iran, Hezbollah, and Hamas have made clear that their primary mission
is not to build fancy hotels, charming tourist districts, schools, and hospitals that will improve the
lives of their people.

It’s to get rid of Israel.

Israel left Lebanon in 2000 and Gaza in 2005 and has never occupied an inch of Iranian
territory. The attacks on the Jewish state are based not on Israeli provocations but on a pure
hatred that aims to destroy.

This ugly moral truth can easily get lost when Israel is involved, as demonstrated most
sharply by the blatant double-standards applied to the Jewish state at the United Nations.
The ugliness of pure hatred also gets lost with sophisticated and academic thinking.
Perhaps the truth is too raw, too clear, too moral. Elite thinkers, by definition, must bring nuance
and complexity to their analyses. They must weigh tactics and strategies and envision the
geopolitical future. This has intellectual merit, but it tends to hide moral ugliness.
Israelis, on the other hand, know the ugliness well. What they worry about most is not
geopolitics but the location of the nearest bomb shelter. Indeed, these bomb shelters are a
poignant reminder of how much Israelis value life.

When they’re not running to bomb shelters, Israelis are busy building one of the most
vibrant, creative, and innovative societies on earth. This also can get lost in the noise of the loud
civic protests against the government, the political infighting, and the constant need to defend
against terrorism. But the vibrancy and the resilience are there. Ask any visitor.
The genius of Israel is that despite being under siege since its birth, it has never satisfied
itself only with physical security. It always aimed to thrive rather than just survive.

I felt that vibrancy and resiliency and love of life when I checked out the website of the
Jaffa hotel, a magnificent tribute to ancient elegance:
[The hotel] stands as a prestigious 5-star establishment situated within a meticulously
restored 19th-century complex, once the home of Jaffa’s French Hospital.
Ideally positioned near the Mediterranean Sea and the historic port of Jaffa, it grants
effortless access to attractions such as the Shuk Hapishpeshim flea market, the city of old
Jaffa’s art galleries, and charming local boutiques, all just a short stroll away.

Our signature chef restaurant, Giardino, showcases culinary creations inspired by the
flavors of the Northern Mediterranean, following a unique ‘port-to-table’ philosophy.
Alternatively, relish elevated Israeli cuisine at Golda’s at The Jaffa. Experience serenity
at the L.RAPHAEL Spa and indulge in the personalized luxury of our 120 opulent rooms
and suites, thoughtfully appointed by the renowned designer, John Pawson. Allow our
dedicated concierge team to meticulously orchestrate every aspect of your stay, renew
your spirit, and ignite your imagination.

If anything can renew our spirits in the midst of a war in Lebanon and ballistic missiles
from Iran and enemies sworn to Israel’s destruction, it is this little corner of Israel that refuses to
lose its imagination.

Can Jews Handle Being Different

(From The Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, October 9, 2024)

There are so many lessons Jews have taken on the first anniversary of October 7. These
lessons reflect the shock, the grieving and the trauma that still linger in Jewish hearts from the
biggest disaster in Israeli history.

But in this whirlwind of emotions, let’s not forget another ancient lesson that Oct. 7 has
brought home: Jews are treated differently.

Consider just the fact that after 1,200 Israelis were massacred on that Black Sabbath, a
global movement began to attack…the Jews! That’s right. Before Israel launched any military
activity in Gaza, the Jew-haters were mobilizing to blame the Jews for the massacre of Jews.
Blaming the Jews, of course, is old hat, but seeing it in the wake of the Oct. 7 atrocities
stunned even the cynics. It’s as if Jews were not allowed to be victims, so Jew-haters doubled
down on the oppressor narrative.

Meanwhile, one never heard a peep on college campuses about the Chinese government’s
ongoing genocide of the Uyghurs; or Russia’s kidnapping of an estimated 20,000 to 25,000
Ukrainian children; or the nightmarish oppression of women by the Taliban; or the daily
executions in Iran; or the slavery and child marriages being reintroduced by the Houthis; or the
horrific massacres of Black African ethnic groups in Sudan, echoing the Darfur genocide two
decades ago, and on and on.

And lest you think that pro-Hamas protesters care about Palestinians, you’ll never hear
them complain about the squalid state of Palestinian refugees in Lebanon and Jordan. Why?
Because Jews are not involved. 

These campus haters take their lead from global forces of hypocrisy, most notably at the
United Nations, where the Jewish state receives more condemnations than all other nations
combined. Why? Because it’s the Jewish state.

Jews get special treatment. It’s as old as the Bible.

Maybe the world could never forgive us for being the first ones to talk to God, or for
stubbornly holding on to our tradition for millennia, or for always figuring out ways to prevail
and succeed despite centuries of persecution. 

Is it possible that the world treats Jews differently because we are, in fact, different? Sure,
Jews may be incredibly diverse and argumentative, but as far as the world is concerned, they see
us as one united bunch.

Jew-haters, for example, don’t care whether we’re Reform or Orthodox, Republican or
Democrat, progressive or conservative, Ashkenazic or Sephardic. They hate us all just the same.
They believe in Jewish unity.

This unity also applies to those who love and admire us—we are a successful and
remarkable tribe that punches way above its weight.

“If the statistics are right, the Jews constitute but one quarter of one percent of the human
race,” Mark Twain wrote in 1897. He continues,

It suggests a nebulous puff of star dust lost in the blaze of the Milky Way. Properly, the
Jew ought hardly to be heard of, but he is heard of, has always been heard of.  He is as
prominent on the planet as any other people, and his importance is extravagantly out of
proportion to the smallness of his bulk. 

His contributions to the world’s list of great names in literature, science, art,
music, finance, medicine and abstruse learning are also very out of proportion to the
weakness of his numbers. He has made a marvelous fight in this world in all ages; and
has done it with his hands tied behind him. He could be vain of himself and be excused
for it. The Egyptians, the Babylonians and the Persians rose, filled the planet with sound
and splendor, then faded to dream-stuff and passed away; the Greeks and Romans
followed and made a vast noise, and they were gone; other people have sprung up and
held their torch high for a time but it burned out, and they sit in twilight now, and have
vanished.

The Jew saw them all, survived them all, and is now what he always was,
exhibiting no decadence, no infirmities of age, no weakening of his parts, no slowing of
his energies, no dulling of his alert but aggressive mind. All things are mortal but the
Jews; all other forces pass, but he remains.  What is the secret of his immortality?
We don’t need to be arrogant or triumphalist to embrace our difference. We can be
engaged with the world and embrace our own diversity while still owning our Jewish identity.
Just as other ethnic groups show pride in their differences, why can’t Jews do the same?
Ultimately, we are all individuals with independent minds, but as Jews, we also have a
shared history and a shared destiny that bring us together.

Maybe now, in the wake of a lingering Oct. 7 trauma we will never forget, it’s time to
embrace the bonds that have kept us going for millennia.

Fighting Antisemitism by Winning

(From The Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, October 15, 2024)

When I meet a Jewish college student who has encountered some of the anti-Jewish and
anti-Israel venom spreading through many campuses, I have a favorite line of questioning:
Did you miss any final exams because of the protests?

Did you miss any assignments?
How did you do this semester?

In most cases, the answer is that the ugly protests, however annoying and frightening,
have not hurt their academic performance. This is encouraging. It doesn’t mean, of course, that
Jews should stop fighting the forces of hate and focus only on their education.

What it does mean is that sometimes the best way to fight haters is to focus on improving
ourselves. Throughout our checkered history of facing hate and persecution, Jews have prevailed
by playing the long game, never abandoning the essential values of learning and personal
growth.

It wasn’t easy to focus on ourselves during the Ten Days of Repentance. We entered
Yom Kippur consumed with the multiple dangers of a post-Oct. 7 world; naturally, many of the
sermons we heard dealt with those dangers and how to confront them. 

But those exterior threats, as urgent and consequential as they are, have little to do with
the intimacy of our lives.

I can fight for Israel all day long but forget to call my mother to bring her a little joy.
I can join an activist group but fail to visit a sick uncle in the hospital.

I can follow current events but fail to attend an important event for a friend.

No matter how loud and urgent the outside noise, we can’t allow it to stifle our inner
selves. The hostility toward Jews is bad enough; when we allow it to interfere with our personal
growth is when we lose.

I have a dark theory about Jew-haters. It’s not just the Jews they hate—it’s also what
Jews represent. They hate the aura of success that surrounds Jews. 

For all I know much of their anger may be rooted in their wanting what Jews have.
Just as the extraordinary success of Israel has attracted resentment among its hostile
neighbors, the perennial success of American Jews has attracted envy among those disinclined to
admire people who work their way up.

A movement that has turned “success” into “white privilege” has only made things worse
for Jews, most of whom are conditioned from childhood to strive to constantly improve. 
The answer is not to seek sympathy by playing for victim points. We’ve learned the hard
way that Jew-hatred is flexible enough to adapt to any condition—whether Jews are weak or
strong, rich or poor, left or right, and so on. 

The point is this: Since the haters will hate Jews no matter what, we might as well win in
the game of life.  

 
Let the protesters win the yelling game. Let them damage their vocal cords to show
support for Hamas. Let them invest thousands of hours playing wannabe Che Guevaras. The
returns on that investment are bound to be illusionary, like gorging on cotton candy. 
Jew haters must know deep down how safe and predictable it is to side with the
Palestinians, the world’s most coddled victims. The true rebels today, those who go against the
grain, are the Zionists. That is the courageous choice.

It’s also the winning one. Losers define winning by how much noise they make. Winners
define winning by how much they accomplish. By that metric, Jews have been humanity’s
winners since time immemorial.

No other group in America has contributed more to the country than the Jews, in fields
ranging from science, literature and social justice to culture, comedy and journalism.
The winds of hate that have accelerated since Oct. 7 have cast a shadow on this image of
the winning Jew. Faced with the need to defend ourselves, we’ve tended to look weak and
defensive. And given that victims are America’s new power brokers, we’ve also been made to
feel guilty about our success. 

This is neither good for the Jews nor for America. An America that elevates victimhood
over success is a nation headed for the abyss. Jews shouldn’t hide their success. Indeed, they
should resuscitate and revalorize the very notion of success, walking not just as proud Jews but
as proud successful Jews.

In the long run, success is our strongest weapon in the fight against antisemitism. Let the
haters scream on the streets and play victim. Jews have better things to do, like going to class and
learning how to win.

Devarim 4:5–8 paints an idyllic word-picture of how Gentiles will perceive Torah-observant Jews:

Behold, I have taught you statutes and regulations, as Hashem my God commanded me, for you to do them in the midst of the land which you are coming to inherit. You will preserve them and do them, because they are your wisdom and discernment in the view of the nations, who will hear all these statutes and say: “Indeed this great nation is wise and discerning.”

History has rarely corresponded to this picture. Moreover, rabbinic literature is fully aware that some biblical commandments arouse mockery or disdain among many non-Jews. Dismissing those non-Jews as shallow does not resolve the problem that the Torah seems descriptively false. Claiming that the Torah’s description applies only to a perfectly observant community, and thus blaming Jews for incomplete observance, seems disingenuous and victim-blaming.

And yet there was an exception. American Jews in the late twentieth century could reasonably perceive themselves as living mostly in the Torah’s world. The phrase “Judeo-Christian values,” however problematic historically and fraught politically, amounted to Gentile recognition and endorsement of what they perceived as the values of the Torah. Laws such as kashruth were seen as legitimate and praiseworthy means of preserving identity while expressing universal values, rather than as illegitimate and blameworthy separatism. Even the ban on intermarriage was tolerated by the broader society, although I suspect only because it was honored mostly in the breach.

Nonetheless, the logically inescapable truth is that on any issue that is controversial in Gentile society, Jews and Judaism cannot take a firm position without earning praise from the Gentiles on one side and criticism from those on the other. The substance of Torah can be universally admired only in a consensus society, or else if Torah refracts into multiple and mutually exclusive positions corresponding to the broader society’s moral/ideological factions. 

If America was a consensus society, it is no longer; and of course, one can argue that the supposed consensus was always an illusion fostered by an elite. Political data suggests that we are consciously or unconsciously adopting the refraction strategy to meet the new polarized reality. Orthodox Jews are increasingly going with Republicans or MAGAism, and non-Orthodox Jews with Democrats or progressivism. Anecdotally, this sorting is self-reinforcing, as Jews are also switching or dropping out of denominational life because of political discomfort. 

It's entirely reasonable for the Jewish community overall to have roughly the same political spectrum as the society around it, and for Orthodoxy and non-Orthodoxy to favor different sides of a major cultural conflict. And it is natural that some Orthodox Jews will have different sympathies than most of their peers and as a result feel isolated. But I think what particularly troubles sincere, idealistic Orthodox Jews is when the moral positions of their shulmates or religious institutions seem to be changing to justify their political affiliation rather than developing autonomously out of the tradition. They want to belong to a Torah community that serves as a light rather than as a mirror to the nations. 

How can we best create such a community?

Because Jewish tradition is genuinely multivocal and legitimately responsive to changes in the world, I don’t think that drawing objective red lines, i.e., trying to rule specific positions out of bounds, is likely to be an effective strategy for preventing moral followership. 

It’s also important to recognize that reaction can be as inauthentic as conformity. If anti-Semitism continues to become more prevalent and more socially acceptable, there may be a natural internal Jewish reaction to ascribe greatest Jewish authenticity to those aspects of Torah most criticized by anti-Semites, especially to those who are on the other side of a polarized political space. Similarly, where the Torah can be interpreted in multiple ways, there may be pressure to demonstrate authenticity by adopting the interpretations that most annoy the anti-Semites on the other side. These pressures may manifest on both sides in areas as diverse as Middle East politics, gender/sexuality, public health policy, and more.

Rather, I suggest that we need to collectively develop a procedural/epistemological checklist that lets us challenge ourselves and each other whether we are making a sincere attempt to authentically represent Jewish tradition, and to meaningfully discuss across party lines whether a position of ours meets that challenge. 

For example: If you are making a claim about Jewish tradition, do you know the most common traditional sources used to challenge your position, and can you convincingly explain them? If your application of Jewish tradition rests on a claim of fact, have you seriously engaged with scholars who reject that claim? If you are arguing from contemporary authority, have you discussed these issues with respected scholars who are not public figures and/or are politically uninvolved, to make sure that you are not just listening to the loudest voices or aiding a campaign of intimidation?[1]

Let’s suppose—a huge if—that we can accomplish this. I want to be clear that this is not enough to meet our Torah obligation vis-a-vis the human societies we participate in. In fact, my use of autonomy and authenticity as lodestars for developing positions might create the false impression that we are indifferent to what non-Jews think of Torah.

One standard Jewish expression of an obligation to care about what non-Jews think is or laGoyim, “light unto the nations.” I have trouble using this phrase because it seems to result from what is known as a Mandela effect, a collective false memory. That expression does not appear in Tanakh. Rather, Yeshayahu 42:6 and 49:6 each say that God will make the Jewish people l’or goyim. It’s possible that the meaning remains the same, but I have heard various efforts to argue for fundamental differences.

My preference instead is to use the categories kiddush Hashem (sanctification of the Name) and hillul Hashem (desecration of the Name). My argument is that these categories legitimately place pressure to make halakhic choices and interpretations that inspire non-Jews to value Torah. My argument is grounded in the following two texts from the Jerusalem Talmud.

1. Yerushalmi Bava Metzia 2:5 (translation modified from Guggenheimer)

Simeon ben Shetacḥ was in the linen trade. His students said to him: Rebbe, to make it easier for you, we will buy you a donkey so you won’t have to work so hard. They went and bought him a donkey from a Saracen; a pearl was hanging on its neck. They came to him and said: From now on you will not have to work anymore. He said to them: Why? They told him: We bought a donkey for you from a Saracen and a pearl is hanging on its neck. He asked them: Did its owner know about this? They answered: No. He told them: Go return it! 

But did not Rav Huna Bibi bar Gozlan in the name of Rav say: 

“They objected before Rebbe: ‘Even according to the position that an object robbed from a Gentile is forbidden, everybody agrees that his lost object is permitted!?’” 

What do you think, that Simeon ben Shetacḥ was a barbarian? Simeon ben Shetacḥ wanted to hear: “Praised be the God of the Jews” more than any gain in this world.

It’s not clear whether the last two elements of the passage are an editorial reflection on the story, or rather an anachronistic recreation of the dialogue between Shimon ben Shetach and his students (they quote rabbis who lived many centuries after their time). Regardless, the text is explicit that only a barbarian would keep a Gentile’s lost object, even though all halakhic positions are understood to permit keeping it. 

This implies that the permission can be kept on the halakhic books as-is only because Gentiles don’t know about it. I contend that Shimon ben Shetach fundamentally argues that the permission codifies a lost opportunity to make Gentiles think well of the Torah of the Jews—for kiddush Hashem—and therefore cannot be sustained as practical law. 

It makes little sense to say that our interest is in having Gentiles think well of Torah that is not actually Torah. That might even be a violation of the prohibition of geneyvat daat, which includes gaining goodwill under false pretenses). Possibly, however, the law would remain on the books for hypothetical societies (think Sodom and Gomorrah) so stuck in selfishness that people returning valuable lost objects would be regarded as fools rather than as moral heroes. Nonetheless, that context would have to be provided whenever the law was taught.

2. Yerushalmi Bava Kamma 4:3 (Translation mine)

A story: The government sent two investigators to learn Torah from Rabban Gamliel. They learned from him Scripture, Mishnah, Talmud, Halakha, and Aggada. In the end they said to him: “Your entire Torah is attractive and praiseworthy except . . . that you say . . . “objects stolen from a Jew are forbidden, but objects stolen from a Gentile are permitted.”

Immediately Rabban Gamliel decreed that objects stolen from a non-Jew would be prohibited to prevent desecration of the Name. 

This text explicitly endorses a change in halakha for the purpose of preventing non-Jews from thinking badly of Torah, which is termed “desecration of the Name,” or hillul Hashem.

My bottom line is that Gentile moral evaluation is a legitimate factor to consider when deciding halakha. 

            Readers are strongly encouraged to challenge my argument via the procedural/epistemological checklist above. I fervently hope this will lead to a conversation in which we together seek to figure out the limits of this principle, and which opinions in which societies we honor and which we proudly flout. Only in that way can our Torah become a genuine source of light for the world. 

Note