Tag Archives: Gaza

First They Came for Mahmoud Khalil

Yesterday I received a DM that read: “Evil, kapo, judenrat, self hating Jew.” (If you don’t know the meaning of some of those words, let’s just say that two of them are historical terms for Jews who collaborated with the Nazis during WW II.) As this kind of thing isn’t an uncommon occurrence for me, it wasn’t particularly upsetting. I’ve been receiving these kinds of messages for over a decade now, to the point that it’s become a kind of background noise – as I’m sure it is for any Jewish activist who dares to publicly affirm the humanity of the Palestinian people.

This time, however, I received the message as I was reading news of the heinous abduction and disappearing of Columbia grad student Mahmoud Khalil – and it caused me to pause and think: given the message, who are the real Jewish collaborators at this particular moment?

As has been widely reported, Khalil (a prominent leader of the student Palestine solidarity protests at Columbia) was walking home with his wife last Saturday when they were approached plain-clothed agents from the Department of Homeland Security who informed them that the government was revoking Khalil’s student visa. When they showed them his Green Card, which made him a legal US resident, an agent made a phone call and told them they had now revoked his Green Card. When they protested, the agents threatened to abduct Khalil’s wife, who is 8 months pregnant. Then they put Khalil in a car and drove him away.

For the next several hours, Khalil’s loved ones had no idea where he was. His lawyers immediately filed a writ of habeus corpus in a New York City court; they later learned that the authorities transported Khalil to an infamous ICE detention center in Louisiana, where he will almost certainly be subjected to a more government-friendly immigration court. In the meantime, a federal judge in Manhattan has ordered the government not to remove Khalil from the US while the judge reviews his lawyer’s petition challenging his abduction and detention.

There is so much that is so deeply chilling about this story it’s difficult to know where to start. For me, however, one of the most disturbing aspects was the report that Khalil had sent multiple emails appealing to Columbia’s interim president Katrina Armstrong for protection from harassment, doxxing and the threat of ICE agents. He sent his final email to Armstrong on March 7 one day before he was abducted and disappeared:

Since yesterday, I have been subjected to a vicious, coordinated, and dehumanizing doxxing campaign led by Columbia affiliates Shai Davidai and David Lederer who, among others, have labeled me a security threat and called for my deportation.

Their attacks have incited a wave of hate, including calls for my deportation and death threats. I have outlined the wider context below, yet Columbia has not provided any meaningful support or resources in response to this escalating threat.

I haven’t been able to sleep, fearing that ICE or a dangerous individual might come to my home. I urgently need legal support, and I urge you to intervene and provide the necessary protections to prevent further harm.

Khalil’s emails, of course highlight the very real likelihood that Columbia actively collaborated with ICE and DHS, thereby compromising the physical safety and security of their own student. They also illuminate the active role of Jewish Zionist activists in the events leading to Khalil’s abduction and disappearance. Shai Davidai is an Israeli assistant professor of business at Columbia Business School who has a documented history of harassing students and school employees. David Lederer is a junior in Columbia’s School of Engineering and Applied Sciences and the co-chair of Aryeh, a self-described “student-led organization that aims to provide opportunities to engage with Israel and Zionism.”

It should not come as a surprise that Zionist activists and organizations played a part in Khalil’s abduction. Last December, it was reported that the US chapter of Betar, a worldwide Zionist youth organization (originally founded by Revisionist Zionist leader Vladimir Jabotinsky in 1923) had recently been revived. It’s Executive Director, Ross Glick, made it clear that targeting college students would be its first order of business. Most ominously, Glick revealed that Betar US “had amassed a large repository of video footage from college protests over the past year” and was employing a team of professionals using facial recognition software and relationship databases to identify foreign students appearing in the videos.

Glick has now been openly bragging about his role in the government’s abduction and disappearance of Mahmoud Khalil. In an interview with the Forward, Glick said that he had met with aides to Senators Ted Cruz and John Fetterman in DC to discuss Khalil during the Columbia encampment protests and that the senators promised to “escalate” the issue. He also said that “some members of Columbia’s board had also reported Khalil to officials.” In the interview, Glick referred to Khalil’s unmasked presence in the protests, commenting “This unfolded very quickly because it was very obvious… This guy was making it too easy for us.”

The Forward article also reported that David Lederer, circulated photos of a pamphlet labeled as coming from the “Hamas Media Office,” suggesting it was distributed at the protest. Lederer also claimed Khalil was “known to have been on a foreign visa last year.” Clearly, the government was aided and abetted by well-known Jewish Zionist activists who made no secret of their intentions to work with authorities to target Palestinians and pro-Palestine student activists who protested Israel’s genocidal violence against the Palestinian people in Gaza last spring.

The government abduction and disappearance of legal residents who exercise their right to free speech is, of course, a basic staple of fascist regimes. What can we say about Jewish activists and organizations that collaborate with such a government – a regime led by a president that actively emboldens antisemitic hate groups and has given significant power to a billionaire who promotes antisemitic theories and publicly sig heils at rallies? While I won’t use the vile terms that extremist right-wing Jews sling against Jewish activists who dare to express their solidarity with Palestinians, I do believe it’s important to name them what they truly are: collaborationists.

It’s important to note that this most recent Jewish collaboration with rising fascism is not limited to small extremist actors such as Betar US. The Anti-Defamation League itself responded to Khalil’s abduction with this statement on X: “We appreciate the Trump Administration’s broad, bold set of efforts to counter campus antisemitism — and this action further illustrates that resolve by holding alleged perpetrators responsible for their actions… We also hope that this action serves as a deterrent to others who might consider breaking the law on college campuses or anywhere.”

For its part, the Trump administration celebrated Khalil’s abduction on X with the statement “Shalom Mahmoud” – a cynical and appropriative expression of “solidarity” with the Jewish people. Even more chillingly, the statement went on: “This is the first arrest of many to come. We will find apprehend and deport these terrorist supervisors from our country ‒ never to return again.” By now we should know that Trump should be taken at his word. If Mahmoud Khalil, a legal resident of the US can be disappeared by this government, they will almost certainly continue with any American citizen whom they identify in their growing data base: and not only Palestinian Americans and Muslims.

I’ll make it plain: collaborationist Jews will not help make Jews safer. In the end, Glick, Davidi, Lederer and their ilk are extremely useful idiots who are actively working with an antisemitic regime that has zero interest in Jewish safety and security. Even more important, collaborating with fascism will not make anyone safer. It feels somehow ridiculous to have to say these words out loud, but here we are. For the sake of our collective liberation, we must all actively resist and stand down this fascist regime – as well as those who aid and abet it.

It occurs to me that this form of collaboration with illegitimate authority really is a form of idolatry. In this week’s Torah portion, the recently-liberated Israelites, who have just entered into a sacred covenant with God, construct a Golden Calf, bow down to it and exclaim, “This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt!” (Exodus 32:4) This narrative is powerfully resonant to the current moment, in which members of the Jewish community are betraying the sacred, liberatory core of Jewish tradition through idolatrous attachment to corrupt state power.

But in the end, this is a fatal form of idolatry: a Faustian bargain. And we know all too well from history where this will lead. Please join me in answering this call from Jewish Voice for Peace to contact our senators and representatives demanding that they do everything in their power to secure Khalil’s release and to protect student activists and immigrants.

Peter Beinart’s New Book Makes Important Political Points – But Does it Reckon With Israel’s Genocide?

Cross posted with Religion Dispatches

The ambitious intentions of Peter Beinart’s new book are evident from the title: Being Jewish After the Destruction of Gaza: A Reckoning. Responding to the current moment, Beinart has written nothing short of a spiritual manifesto for the future of Judaism.

It’s a tall-order for such a slim volume, but it’s one that Beinart is uniquely positioned to take on. As a well-known journalist, thought leader, and editor-at-large for the journal Jewish Currents, Beinart’s ideas carry a great deal of weight among large swaths of the Jewish establishment. His 2010 article in The New York Review of Books, “The Failure of the American Jewish Establishment” and his subsequent book, The Crisis of Zionism were widely read and debated in the American Jewish community. Since then, he’s continued to push the envelope in the discourse on Israel/Palestine. His 2020 New York Times op-ed, “I No Longer Believe in a Jewish State” and his 2021 Guardian essay, “A Jewish Case for Palestinian Refugee Return” were likewise considered game-changers in the Jewish communal discussion on Israel-Palestine.

Being Jewish, which attempts to reframe the Jewish spiritual narrative itself, is arguably his most dramatic attempt at game-changing. Following October 7 and Israel’s devastating military onslaught on Gaza, Beinart suggests that Judaism and Jewish identity have now reached a critical turning point. As he writes in the Prologue:

Jews have told new stories to answer the horrors we endured. We must now tell a new story to answer the horrors that a Jewish country has perpetrated, with the support of many Jews around the world… [This new Jewish story must be] based on equality rather than supremacy—because the current one doesn’t endanger only Palestinians. It endangers us.

As if this isn’t ambitious enough, Beinart also hopes his book will help heal the widening fractures over Israel/Palestine in the Jewish community. To drive this point home, he begins with a letter to a friend with whom he’s become estranged over the issue of Israel/Palestine. “I know,” he writes, “you believe that my public opposition to this war…constitutes a betrayal of our people…[and] I consider your single-minded focus on Israeli security to be immoral and self-defeating.” He ends his letter with the words: “I hope the rupture is not final, that our journey together is not done.”

While Being Jewish was published by a mass-market publisher and is being promoted to a wide readership, Beinart states at the outset that he’s suggesting a new Jewish narrative to bring the Jewish “family” together; to mend the deep familial rifts that have widened over Israel’s destruction of Gaza. “This book,” he writes, “is for the Jews who are still sitting at that Shabbat table, and for the Jews—sometimes their own children—who have left in disgust. I yearn for us to sit together.”

Beinart thus begins his book with a formidable—perhaps unbridgeable—tension. While he’s clear about his intention to bring Jews together, he also suggests that Israel’s oppression of Palestinians is rooted in a narrative of Jewish supremacy—a view which surely won’t endear him to millions of Jews in Israel and throughout the diaspora who identify deeply with Israel and Zionism. In many ways, this tension is characteristic of Beinart’s pedagogy: he seeks to influence Jewish communal discourse even as he pushes hard on the ideological envelope. It’s a balancing act that’s become increasingly precarious with his writings over the past several years. Given the stakes of the current moment, he sets a profoundly daunting goal for himself with his latest book.

For most of Being Jewish, Beinart does what he does best, expertly dismantling Israel’s hasbara—the propagandistic talking points used to justify Israel’s oppression of the Palestinian people. In chapter one, “They Tried to Kill Us We Survived, Let’s Eat,” for example, he interrogates the ways that Israel and Israel’s Jewish communal advocates, conveniently ignore Zionism’s colonial origins and reframe Israel’s founding to fit a Jewish narrative of victimhood:

The plot goes like this. We have finally achieved what every other people takes for granted: a state of our own. Yet in the case of Jews, and Jews alone, that right is contested. So even with a state, we remain victims.

His repeated willingness to frame political Zionism in a colonial context is a powerful, ongoing theme for Beinart. In another chapter “To Whom Evil is Done,” he considers the ways the violence committed by Hamas and other Palestinian resistance groups on October 7 was compared to the Holocaust by Israelis and Jews around the world. He goes on to assert that such a framing “transforms Palestinians from a subjugated people into the reincarnation of monsters of the Jewish past.” Again, Beinart doesn’t hesitate to reject this comparison in favor of a settler colonial framework. A better analogy, he suggests, would be the violent attacks of colonized Haitians, Creek Indians, or Mau Mau rebels against their colonial oppressors.

In “Ways of Not Seeing,” Beinart systemically eviscerates many other familiar claims wielded by Israeli leaders and Israel advocates: from their rejections of death estimates by the Gazan Health Ministry to the canard of Hamas’ human shields. He also devotes a chapter to the issue of antisemitism, using convincing argumentation along with hard survey data to demonstrate how Israel cynically uses the claim of antisemitism—which is much more prevalent on the Right than the Left—to cudgel Palestinians and their supporters. Taking the claim that anti-Zionism equals antisemitism head on, he writes astutely:

The whole point of conflating anti-Zionism with antisemitism is to depict Palestinians and their supporters as bigots, thus turning a conversation about the oppression of Palestinians into a conversation about the oppression of Jews.

Beinart’s book is strongest when he makes these kinds of expert political arguments. Yet, as critical as they are, as I read Being Jewish I found myself increasingly wishing he would drill deeper into the themes suggested by the title. Beyond promoting a Judaism of equality over conquest, how should Jews respond to the devastating moral reality of this moment? In his final chapter, “Korach’s Children,” he attempts to do precisely this, suggesting that Jewish political nationalism has become a form of Jewish “idolatry,” arguing that the only way toward an equitable future in Israel/Palestine is a single state in Israel that guarantees full citizenship for all.

While it’s a compelling vision, there’s little in his final chapter that he hasn’t already argued for more extensively in his 2020 and 2021 articles, which were written well before Israel’s destruction of Gaza. In this book, as with his earlier articles, Beinart offers examples from Ireland and South Africa to demonstrate how colonizers and colonized have found the political wherewithal—however imperfect—to dismantle systems of oppression and engage in processes of reconciliation.

In the midst of his argument, however, there’s little reckoning with the possibility that anything has fundamentally changed with Israel’s genocide in Gaza. Instead, Beinart simply repeats his talking points, continuing to hold out hope for a better future for Israeli Jews and Palestinians:

Although it won’t look the same, this kind of liberation is possible for us. We can lift the weight that oppressing Palestinians imposes on Jewish Israelis, and indirectly, on Jews around the world.

But who is the “we” in this statement? It’s certainly not in the power (nor is it currently the desire) of American or Diaspora Jews to leverage a socio-political transformation of such a magnitude in Israel/Palestine. The majority of Israelis have, for their part, long rejected a one-state solution—and by all accounts, they’re farther away than ever from embracing such a vision.

Indeed, Israelis post-October 7 are a thoroughly traumatized nation, inured to the carnage their nation is inflicting on Palestinians and according to polls, overwhelmingly supportive of Israel’s genocide in Gaza. As for Palestinians, many, if not most, are undoubtedly less inclined to imagine the realistic possibility of living side by side with Israeli Jews in a single state given the horrific reality of the past 16 months.

It’s notable that, even as Beinart doesn’t flinch from describing Israel’s onslaught in Gaza—often in terrifying detail—he largely avoids using the word “genocide” to describe it. This is more than merely a semantic issue. If we are to truly reckon with what it means to be Jewish after the destruction of Gaza, we must face this central question: what does it mean for the Jewish people that a Jewish state, founded in the wake of the Holocaust, is actively committing a genocide against another people?

Though Beinart writes that he “yearns for us to sit together,” it’s well worth asking: can we truly create Jewish community within such a reality? Can Jews who believe Israel is committing genocide coexist in community with those who are actively supporting it—or rationalizing it away? Is it possible for Jews to pray and study and make Shabbat and celebrate holidays together under such circumstances? If Jewish ethical values are the bedrock of our spiritual life, how do we truly bridge such a massive moral divide?

Although he doesn’t answer this question in his book, Beinart did give a clue to a potential response during a recent appearance at Duke University. Admitting that Israel was no longer a “unifying force” among Jews, he responded:

What I would like people to do is to bring Jews together across the ideological, political and religious spectrum, to study Torah, to study our texts. This is what ultimately unifies us, and I think that it can be a foundation for other kinds of conversations.

This kind of response might make sense to Beinart, an Orthodox Jew who cherishes traditional Jewish study, but it’s doubtful such an approach will bring together Jews in the way he envisions. It’s optimistic, to put it mildly, to assume that Jews will be able to put aside their differences on Israel and find a foundation for fruitful conversation through the study of Torah and Jewish text. It may be time for us to admit that being Jewish after the destruction of Gaza means our community isn’t simply fractured, but separated by a deep moral abyss that may well be unbridgeable.

As I read Beinart’s new book, I couldn’t help but be struck by the significant debt it owes to the landmark work of Jewish scholar and theologian Marc Ellis, who asserted as far back as the 1980s and 90s that post-Holocaust, the fusion of Judaism and Jewish state power had created a conquest-focused “Constantinian Judaism,” even as Israel maintained a collective myth of innocence.

In fact, in 2014, during an earlier Israeli military assault on Gaza, Ellis wrote Burning Children: A Jewish View of the War in Gaza which reached strikingly similar conclusions to Beinart’s:

The central question is how to move Jews in Israel and around the world to see that Jews can only be free if Palestinians are free as well. During the Gaza war, we could not be further from this goal. This makes it even more imperative that we begin now.

But while Beinart’s and Ellis’ analyses of the crisis may have been similar, their prescriptions for going forward were dramatically different. As Ellis put it in a 2018 interview, Israel’s state oppression of the Palestinian people represented the “end of ethical Jewish history”:

We Jews, all of us, no matter our various political positions, are responsible for what Israel has done and is doing to the Palestinian people. That is why I believe that we, as Jews, dwell in the abyss of injustice. The injustice we have perpetrated upon Palestinians has brought us to the end of ethical Jewish history. The question for Jews, the only question, is what are we to do at this end?

Marc Ellis died in July 2024, while Israel’s genocide in Gaza was raging in full force. His question, however, offers an important counterpoint to Beinart’s. While Beinart asks how we will come together to write a new Jewish story, Ellis asks how Jews will dwell in the abyss of injustice. In the end, Beinart’s book, for all of its courage, is ultimately unwilling to take this step: to truly reckon with how Jews of conscience should respond to the ongoing moral devastation that is Israel’s genocide in Gaza.

Palestine Solidarity from the Streets to the Statehouse

From my Yom Kippur sermon this past October:

(There) are plenty of Jewish congregations out there: why does the world need another? What do we have that’s unique to offer? As I think about it, this is a critical question for any Jewish community. Do we exist just to exist or for a more transcendent purpose? Does our existence actively seek to repair the world or does it merely serve to use up Jewish community resources? Or worse still, does our communal existence contribute to harm in the world?

I recalled those words last week when I learned that Anshe Emet, a prominent Conservative synagogue in Chicago planned to host a program with invited guest Yoav Gallant, the former Israeli Minister of Defense and one of the primary architects of Israel’s genocide against Gaza – who currently has a warrant out for his arrest issued by the International Criminal Court.

It should go without saying, but I’ll say it out loud: it is appalling and sickening that a prominent synagogue welcomed – and in fact celebrated – a genocidal war criminal in their house of worship. I’m proud to say that a massive protest was organized by a wide coalition of Palestine solidarity groups, including US Palestine Community Network, American Muslims for Palestine, Jewish Voice for Peace and #IfNotNow to voice a message of outrage, solidarity and collective conscience.

Hundreds of us gathered last night across the street from the synagogue in the freezing cold to express our outrage and mutual solidarity. There were many speakers from our diverse coalition and it was my honor to be among them. Here are my remarks, below:

My name is Brant Rosen; I’m a proud member of Jewish Voice for Peace, the Jewish Voice for Peace Rabbinical Council, and I’m the founding rabbi of Tzedek Chicago – a proudly anti-Zionist synagogue here inI Chicago with members here and around the world.

In Jewish tradition there is a central concept we call Hillul Hashem. It literally means “desecration of God’s name.” This is at root a deeply moral concept that goes to the heart of what it means to be a human being. When we diminish the humanity of another, we diminish God’s presence in the world – and we commit the worst kind of Hillul Hashem when we commit the crime against genocide against another people.

In October 2023, Yoav Gallant, Israel’s then defense minister, said:

We are imposing a complete siege on Gaza. There will be no electricity, no food, no water, no fuel, everything is closed. We are fighting human animals and we are acting accordingly.

The Palestinian people know what it means to be robbed of their humanity. They have been deemed a collectively disposable people by Israel for over 100 years. Their very presence is a problem for Israel. We Jews should know all too well what happens when a state robs a people of its essential humanity.

The ICC has put a warrant out for Yoav Gallant’s arrest as a war criminal because he actively dehumanized the Palestinian people in word and in deed. Over 60,000 Palestinians killed in Gaza to date and over 100,000 injured, the majority of whom are women and children. According to one estimate, the ultimate death toll may eventually be nearly 200,000. Whole extended families, entire Palestinian bloodlines have been wiped out completely. Much of Gaza has been literally reduced to a human graveyard, with scores of bodies buried beneath the rubble of destroyed and bulldozed homes. Neighborhoods and regions have been literally wiped off the map.

Gaza’s infrastructure and health care system has been decimated. According to the UN an “intentional and targeted starvation campaign” has led to widespread famine and disease throughout the Gaza strip. Health care workers, humanitarian workers and journalists are being killed, injured and imprisoned in massive numbers. Human rights agencies have documented widespread torture and abuse of prisoners, including sexual abuse, throughout a network of torture camps.

This is dehumanization, this is Hillul Hashem of the worst kind. And to you Yoav Gallant, we say, “We Charge Genocide!” “You are not welcome in our city!”

But Yoav Gallant and the nation he served could not have succeeded if there where not those who normalized this genocide. And that is why we are here tonight. As a rabbi, as a Jew, as a person of conscience, I am morally outraged – I am sickened – that this war criminal is being hosted – and in fact celebrated – at a synagogue, a Jewish house of worship. This is what it has come to.

And here I want to address the members of Anshei Emet and the Jewish community of Chicago. Our community has a profound moral choice to make. What is the Judaism we will affirm? Will we uphold Zionism – and its ideology of Jewish supremacy – or will we stand for the sacred divine image of all people? Will we stand with war criminals or will we stand with those who are deemed to be disposable? Will we stand with the genocidal state of Israel or will we stand with the Palestinian people?

Now I’d like to address my friends and comrades in the Palestinian community:, please know that are so many of us in the Jewish community who stand in solidarity with you. There is nowhere else we can possibly be at this moment. And there are so many of us who are voicing the alarm, marching in the streets, taking arrest to demand justice for Palestinians

It is not an overstatement to say this: history will remember what we did or did not do in this moment. We are ready, together with you, to call out those who, in our name, are committing the worst kind of Hillul Hashem against you, whether it is in the streets of Rafah and Deir al Balah, the halls of Washington DC or a synagogue in Chicago. And we will not cease until all are free, from the river to the sea!

It’s been a busy week. This past Wednesday, I was in Springfield with friends and comrades to announce new IL state legislation, “The Illinois Human Rights Advocacy Protection Act,” which would repeal our state’s 2015 anti-boycott legislation that punishes advocacy for Palestinian human rights. This unconstitutional and immoral legislation, signed by then Gov. Bruce Rauner, directed the Illinois Investment Policy Board to restrict public funding to companies that use human rights filters that exclude doing business with Israel.

The new legislation, which is being introduced in the IL State House by Palestinian-American representative Abdulnasser Rashid, will “(remove) provisions requiring the Illinois Investment Policy Board to include companies that boycott Israel in its list of restricted companies.” An identical bill will be introduced in the IL Senate as well.

You can watch the entire press conference here. My remarks follow below:

Here in Illinois and around the world, we are at a critical and frightening moment. The US is governed by an administration that openly considers certain populations to be disposable. Whether it is undocumented immigrants, birthright citizens, trans youth or the Palestinian people. Just yesterday, our president announced his intention to depopulate the entire Gaza strip of over 2 million Palestinians and turn it into the “Riviera of the Middle East.” This after a previous administration helped to arm Israel in its crushing military assault – one that many reputable human rights organizations have termed a genocide against the Palestinian people.

In Jewish tradition, one of our most central theological tenets, which is repeated over and over, is that God responds to the cries of the oppressed. The Palestinian people have long been crying out to the international community. Over the past sixteen months, their cries have reached a fever pitch. The question before us, that has ever been before us, is how will we respond?

That is the essence of the Palestinian call for Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions. It is a call from an oppressed people who are seeking support and solidarity from the international community. It originated in 2005, when a wide coalition of Palestinian civil society organizations made a crie de cour for solidarity and support. They issued a call to the world to use the time-honored nonviolent strategy of Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions.

There are three essential demands of this call, which are all are based in international law: to end the occupation of the West Bank and Gaza, full and equal rights for Palestinian citizens of Israel, and to honor the UN mandated Palestinian right of return. Like all boycotts, it allows private citizens, companies and civil society organizations around the world to actively and meaningfully respond to the legitimate and collective cry of the Palestinian people.

It is also a form of free speech. Just like historic Montgomery Bus Boycott, the United Farm Workers Boycott, the boycott of apartheid South Africa before it. When the state of Illinois passed legislation restricting participation in this pro-peace, pro-human rights movement, it actively criminalized free speech. It was immoral and illegal to do so when it was enacted by Governor Rauner in 2015 – and it remains so today. In the current moment, when our country is ruled by a regime that is actively and unabashedly criminalizing free speech, we should see this legislation for what it is. The state of Illinois has no business aiding and abetting in this stripping of our right to free speech. It has no moral standing to stifle and stigmatize the legitimate cry of the oppressed.

In the Jewish community this week we are reading from our Torah, the Exodus story. And the Exodus story makes it very clear: that God responds to the cry of the oppressed and demands their liberation. We also read that this process began with brave people to defy and resist oppression. That is how liberation happens.

We are at just a moment right now. This is truly a which side are you on moment. Will we hearken to the cries of the oppressed, or will suppress their voices – and those who support their call for liberation? We urge the state of Illinois to stand the right side of history.

A Jewish letter of support for the Illinois Human Rights Advocacy Act will soon be made public as well. I’ll make sure to post it when its available.

From Gaza to Chicago: the Resistance of Disposable Populations

It’s difficult to describe the feelings I experienced this past weekend, as I watched hundreds of thousands of Gazans in a long and seemingly endless line, heading on foot to their homes in the north. Crossing the Netzarim corridor – the border the Israeli military demarcated separating north from south – they headed back with whatever possessions they were able to carry. Family members who thought each other dead clutched each other in tearful embrace. It was truly a wonder to behold: this resilient people who had defied and withstood the most destructive miliary onslaught in modern times. As Gazan activist Jehad Abusalim put it:

Gaza today, for now, disrupts and defies the global agenda of rendering entire populations disposable and rightless. This was achieved through the resilience of an entire population that has endured months of displacement, starvation, disease and bombardment.

Though this is a fragile and temporary ceasefire, it’s striking to note the depth of Israel’s failure to achieve any of its stated objectives of its genocidal war. It failed to destroy Hamas and the Palestinian armed resistance in Gaza. It failed to rescue hostages taken on Oct. 7 through military means. It failed to implement its so-called “General’s Plan” – its blueprint for ethnically cleansing northern Gaza. And perhaps most importantly, it failed to break the will of the Gazan people to survive its genocidal war.

Jehad’s words “for now” are appropriate. The overwhelming number of Gazans are returning to homes that are rubble – and it is by no means certain how they will be able to rebuild their lives. The ceasefire is a tenuous one; there is still no agreement on the second or third phases of deal and there is every possibility that Netanyahu will use the deal as cover to eventually depopulate Gaza of Palestinians. Trump’s recent comments (“I’d like Egypt to take people, and I’d like Jordan to take people…we just clean out that whole thing”) have made his intentions clear, even if his plan has been rejected outright by Arab states.

As I read the reports and analyses in the wake of this ceasefire, one thing seemed consistent to me: as ever, there is little, if any, concern for the humanity of the Palestinian people. On the contrary, every pronouncement by Western governments and the mainstream media treats their mere existence as a problem to be dealt with. In this regard, Jehad’s reference to “the global agenda of rendering entire populations disposable and rightless” is spot on. Palestinians in general – and Gazans in particular – have always been the canaries in the coal mine when it comes to the use of state violence against “problematic populations” deemed “disposable” by authoritarian states seeking to consolidate their power.

“Entire populations rendered disposable and rightless” certainly applied to events in my hometown of Chicago this past Sunday, where the Trump launched “Operation Safeguard,” a shock and awe blitz spearheaded by ICE, the FBI, ATF, DEA, CBP and US Marshals Service. Led by Trump’s so-called “border czar” Tom Homan (and surreally videotaped live by “Dr” Phil), heavily armed and armored forces terrorized Chicago neighborhoods all day, mostly going door to door, staking out streets in search of undocumented people, taking them away in full-body chains. While there is no definitive information on the numbers of people taken, federal immigration authorities claim to have arrested more than 100 people in recent days.

On a positive note, however, we are seeing that the strategies employed by local immigrant justice coalitions are making a real difference. My congregation, Tzedek Chicago is part of a local interfaith coalition called the Sanctuary Working Group, which has been mobilizing Know Your Rights trainings and Rapid Response teams. From our experience in Chicago over these past few days, we’ve seen that this kind of mobilization really does have an impact. Perhaps the strongest validation of these resistance strategies came from Homan himself, who said on an interview with CNN:

Sanctuary cities are making it very difficult to arrest the criminals. For instance, Chicago, very well educated, they’ve been educated how to defy ICE, how to hide from ICE. They call it “Know Your Rights.” I call it how to escape arrest.

in my previous post, I wrote that “the current political moment has left many of us breathless.” But over the course of the last several days, we’ve seen it is indeed possible “to disrupt and defy the global agenda of rendering entire populations disposable and rightless.” If we had any doubt at all, let us take our inspiration from the Gazan people, who have refused to submit after 15 months of merciless genocidal violence and are returning to their homes, vowing to rebuild and remain.

The most powerful shock and awe in the world could not break them. Let this be a lesson to us all.

The Gaza Ceasefire: Pharoah is Still Pharoah

Benyamin Netanyahu and Steve Witkoff, January 11, 2025

For Palestinians and those who stand in solidarity with them, the news of a ceasefire agreement between the Netanyahu administration and Hamas was welcome news. When the reports first broke, and I saw images of Gazans singing and dancing in the streets, I couldn’t help but feel a joyful solidarity with them. But like all brokered agreements between Israelis and Palestinians, this deal is also fragile and fraught – and filled with deeply disingenuous political maneuvering.

Some history: according to reports, this ceasefire deal is identical to the one brokered by the Biden administration last May, which was accepted by Hamas leaders in early July. At the last minute, however, Netanyahu later backed out, insisting on nothing less than the total destruction of Hamas. Israel then assassinated Hamas’ political leader and chief negotiator, Ismail Haniyeh and continued its relentless bombardment of Gaza.

Though this was all a direct affront to the Biden administration, the US government responded not by pressuring Netanyahu to accept the deal but by rewarding Israel with a $20 billion arms sale. Biden and Secretary of State Blinken also actively promoted the lie that it was Hamas and not Israel that had kiboshed the deal. In the meantime, the Israeli military continued with its genocidal onslaught. From the time that the talks fell apart until now, the death toll of Palestinians rose from at least 39,000 to 46,707, including more than 18,000 children.

So why is Israel accepting the very same deal a half a year later? We now know it was due to the efforts of Donald Trump, who has made it clear he didn’t want to deal with the distraction of Israel’s war on Gaza as he began his presidency. Last week, Trump asked his friend, Steve Witkoff, a billionaire real estate developer, to call Netanyahu and tell him in no uncertain terms that Israel’s military operations in Gaza must end before the inauguration.

In other words, a President-elect was able to do with a single visit from a private citizen what the Biden administration was either unable or unwilling to do for over a year.

Though the ceasefire deal was welcome news, it was not accomplished through the “tireless efforts of the Biden administration.” Neither was it due to the altruism (needless to say) of the President elect. Trump is nothing if not transactional – and there is already speculation over what he might give Netanyahu in return, whether it’s a brokered diplomatic deal with Saudi Arabia or the annexation of the West Bank (or both).

In the meantime, within 24 hours of the announcement of the deal, Israel escalated its bombing of Gaza, killing 80 Palestinians. According to analyst Yousef Munayyer, Israel has a habit of late-hour bombing to empty its stockpiles in anticipation of larger military aid packages from the US. In this case, since Israel has not realized its military objective of obliterating Hamas, “there may be an urge to do great damage while they can before ceasefire comes in, reacting to that disappointment.” As of this morning, the Netanyahu government, is indicating his government is prepared to accept the deal, which is set to go into effect on Sunday, but it is still yet to be signed.

But even if it is finalized, we should have no illusions. Like past deals, there is so much that Israel can do to pursue its own designs going forward. Like past deals, this one is set to unfold in stages. The first phase will feature a ceasefire, a withdrawal of Israeli troops, an initial swap of hostages and prisoners and an influx of humanitarian aid into Gaza. However, the second and third phases are far less developed. There is no agreement on the rebuilding of Gaza, the future of the Israeli military presence, who will govern, or how.

When I read the details of this agreement, I couldn’t help but recall the Oslo Accords in 1993, which was also negotiated in phases. The first was an interim phase, in which Israel would gradually withdraw from Palestinian areas in the West Bank and transfer administrative power to a temporary “Palestinian Authority.” The second phase involved permanent status details such as Jerusalem, refugee rights, settlements and borders. In the end, Israel agreed to the first phase as a cover to extend its settlement regime across the West Bank – all the while enacting policies that further dispossessed Palestinians from their homes.

Oslo was a hard lesson on the ultimate designs of all Israeli administrations, from left to right. No matter who is in power, the Israel’s goals are the goals of Zionism itself: the maintenance of a Jewish majority in the land. This goal necessarily entails the ongoing ethnic cleansing – an ongoing Nakba – of the Palestinian people. After the genocide in Gaza, we can honestly add the words “by any means necessary” to this sentence. No matter the diplomatic rhetoric around this current deal, we must not lose sight of this crucial history. Put simply: Netanyahu is all too likely to assent to phase one of the deal, get back a requisite number of hostages, then continue with the genocide in Gaza in order to destroy Hamas completely, ensure a maximum number of Palestinians are either dead or unable to return to their homes, and re-entrench Israeli civilian settlement there.

In this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Shemot, there arises a new Pharoah who “did not know Joseph.” Threatened by the demographic growth of the Israelite people in the land, he institutes murderous policies to stem their birthrate and reduce their number through harsh enslavement. But there are also those who resist Pharoah’s tyranny through acts of courageous civil disobedience: Hebrew midwives who refuse to kill Israelite baby boys, a mother and sister who save an Israelite child and a daughter of Pharoah who adopts him. All of these events set in motion a chain that will inexorably, inevitably lead toward the liberation of the Israelite people.

So in this moment, let us welcome the prospect of the cessation of hostilities. But let us have no illusions about the designs of all Pharoahs past and present. Like the Israelites in our Torah portion, the Palestinian people continue to cry out for liberation.

Let us continue to heed their call.

Remembering the Forgotten on Shabbat Hanukkah

Mahmoud Al-Fasih holds the body of his three-week-old daughter, Sela, before laying her to rest. (Photo: CNN)

I’m sure there are many people who read what I write regularly (or scroll through my social media feeds) and think to themselves, “What a ‘one-note’ rabbi, just going on and on about Gaza. Why doesn’t he write or talk about other things for a change?”

If I could answer, these hypothetical folks, I’d say, yes there are surely many things in the world I could be writing or talking about. But when you live in a time of genocide – particularly one that is being funded by your government and carried out in your name as a Jew – it seems to me that being “one note” is a moral imperative.

All the more so as Israel’s genocide on Gaza is now in its fourteenth month and the rest of the world seems have moved on – treating Israel’s genocide in Gaza as mere background noise. In such a context, it seems to me, bearing witness – i.e., to remember when others have forgotten – is a profoundly sacred act.

Though it is not being widely reported, Israel’s mass killing of Gazans has been increasing dramatically in recent weeks. Earlier this week, it was reported that Israel’s genocide claimed 77 lives in one day. Two days ago, Israel attacked five journalists in a clearly marked news van outside Al-Awda Hospital in Nuseirat. (One of the journalists, Ayman Al-Jidi, was waiting for his wife to give birth inside the hospital.) It is also being reported that Gazan babies are freezing to death inside their increasingly frigid tent encampments. Truly, in the face of such shameful and shameless genocidal violence, how can we not bear witness?

Remembering Gaza is at the heart of Tzedek Chicago’s new Hanukkah supplement, “Rededicating our Solidarity with Gaza” which highlights a different group of Gazans who have been subjected to grave and deadly harm during the course of the genocide (including journalists and children). Each group is represented here by individuals whose lives and deaths testify to the dignity and humanity of the Palestinian people. We encourage you to read them aloud each night after reciting the Hanukkah blessings bear witness to their stories and sanctify their memories.

Remembrance is also an important theme in this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Miketz. At the very end of last week’s Torah portion, while Joseph was languishing in Egyptian prison, he interpreted the dreams of his cell mates, the chief baker and the royal cupbearer. He told the cupbearer, “Think of me when all is well with you again, and do me the kindness of mentioning me to Pharaoh, so as to free me from this place.” But after the cupbearer is released from prison, we are told, “Yet the chief cupbearer did not think of Joseph; he forgot him.”

At the start of this week’s portion, the cupbearer learns of Pharaoh’s nightmares and tells him, “I must make mention today of my misdeeds.” He then tells Pharaoh about Joseph, the young man in prison who has the gift of dream divination. On the surface, this might be the self-effacing rhetoric of a royal courtier addressing his king. But on a deeper level, his statement could be understood as a kind of confession: admission that he has sinned by allowing the incarcerated to remain forgotten.

Of course, systems of incarceration themselves are inherently sinful inasmuch as they treat humanity as disposable – and too easily forgotten. Whether it is the massive for-profit prison systems, the cages on our border, or the people of Gaza, who have been incarcerated in an open-air prison for over a decade and are now being subjected to genocidal violence at the hands of their captors.

This Hanukkah, let us shine our lights to remind the world of what it would just as soon forget. Let us commit the kind of hope that is rooted in action: toward a world free of prison walls, a world where no one is disposable and the divine image in all is cherished and nurtured and liberated into its full and unfettered potential.

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Hanukkah Sameach.

Toward a Judaism of Love over Land, People over Profit

A photograph shows soldiers posing with an orange banner that reads: “Only settlement would be considered victory!” The color orange was used by the settler movement in 2004 and 2005 to protest Israel’s disengagement from Gaza.

It’s becoming ominously clear that the end game of Israel’s genocide in Gaza is the end of game of Zionism itself: namely, settlement. The writing has been on the wall for some time now. As I mentioned on Rosh Hashanah, we now know the existence of the so-called “General’s Plan,” in which:

Israel will control the northern Gaza Strip and drive out the 300,000 Palestinians still there. Major General Giora Eiland, the war’s ideologue, proposes starving them to death, or exiling them, as a lever with which to defeat Hamas. The Israeli right envisions a Jewish settlement of the area, with vast real estate potential of convenient topography, a sea view, and proximity to central Israel…

News accounts bear out that the General’s Plan is well underway. The vast majority of residents of Northern Gaza have now been ethnically cleansed from their homes and Israel has said it has no intentions to let them return. At a recent two-day conference, “Preparing to Resettle Gaza,” Israel’s National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir told the hundreds who gathered, “If we want it, we can renew settlements in Gaza.”

With Trump now poised to take power, there will very likely be new wind behind these plans. Last March, Jared Kushner was quoted as saying: “Gaza’s waterfront property could be very valuable … It’s a little bit of an unfortunate situation there, but from Israel’s perspective I would do my best to move the people out and then clean it up.” With Kushner widely expected to be “pivotal” to Trump’s Middle East policy, his words now take on a terrifying new resonance of possibility.

Even more ominously, there is every reason to expect these plans will be aided and abetted by the American Jewish communal establishment. One week after Donald Trump’s reelection, Karen Paikin Barall, the Jewish Federation’s VP of government relations, remarked to a group of local Jewish community relations councils, “We should all look forward to the day we can hope to buy townhouses in the West Bank and Gaza.”

As a settler colonial movement, Zionism was always focused on the maintenance of a majority Jewish presence in historic Palestine. However, the seizing and control of resources has been no less integral to this project. The settler colonial reality of the 21^st century is driven in no small part by the corporate interest of weapons manufacturers as well as the billionaire and oligarch class that seek to profit off the spoils of war and genocide. In the current moment, it should come as no surprise that there is also unabashed talk about the annexation of the West Bank and even parts of South Lebanon.

Such is the natural result of a movement and ideology that prizes real estate over the well-being of the actual people who happen to live on the land. I’m particularly mindful of this as I contemplate this week’s Torah portion, Chayei Sarah, which begins with the famous episode in which Abraham negotiates with the Hittites to purchase the Cave of Machpelah as a burial site for his recently deceased wife Sarah. This story is often wielded by many Zionists as a deed of sale to this sacred site – and contemporary land acquisition in Palestine as the “inalienable possession of the Jewish people.”

There is, of course, another way to understand the spiritual meaning of this story: it is not about land acquisition but love and loyalty. Abraham is not motivated to purchase this land in order to claim exclusive entitlement to it: he is driven by his desire to honor his beloved wife Sarah, and to ensure that she and his extended family will have a permanent resting place. To read this episode only about entitlement to land is limited at best – and to judge by the apartheid and violence by which Israel maintains its control of this site today – a moral sacrilege at worst.

At the end of the portion, following the death of Abraham, we read that his sons Ishmael and Isaac buried their father together in the Cave of Machpelah. I can think of no better image to underscore the critical importance of pursuing a Judaism that prizes love over land. This Shabbat Chayei Sarah, may we rededicate our commitment to this sacred vision.

After Trump’s Election, We Need Each Other More Than Ever

Like all of you, I’m sure, I’m still in deep shock and anguish over Donald Trump’s electoral victory this past Tuesday. And while I certainly have my opinions about how this terrifying outcome could have possibly happened, I’m going to resist the urge to engage in post-election punditry. There’s more than enough to go around right now, some of it interesting, some of it clarifying, but to my mind, much of it tone-deaf and destructive. There will be time for the analysis, the interrogating and the strategizing. For now, however, I think it is critical that we sit with what has happened and give ourselves space to grieve and respond emotionally to the enormity of what has just occurred.

Of course, none of this happened overnight. Well before last Tuesday, were all too aware of the growth of fascism in the US and around the world, the scourge of state violence and mass incarceration, the loss of reproductive freedoms, the genocide against Palestinians, political targeting of immigrants, LGBTQ+ people, Muslims, disabled people, and other vulnerable minorities. After Tuesday, however, the stakes of these threats have reached a terrifying new level. Yes, what happened this week was shocking and heartbreaking. But it was also clarifying. We should no longer have any illusions about what we are up against.

I know that many of us who have been on the front line of the resistance to these threats are feeling exhausted and demoralized. Those who are members of targeted groups are understandably feeling a new level of fear for their own well-being. That is why, I believe to the core of my being, that the most important thing that those of us who have been organizing movements for justice can do in this moment is to reaffirm our commitment and care for one another.

In order to do that, we will need to resist the politics of division lest they infect the movements of solidarity we’ve been building so carefully and lovingly. During this past election, there was strong and passionate disagreement on whether a vote for Kamala Harris was a vote for genocide or a vote to hold back a Trump presidency. There were good, principled arguments to be made on both side of that debate. Even so, it was immensely painful to witness what this election did to the Palestine solidarity movement. Those who chose to vote for Harris were accused of “supporting genocide.” Those who chose withhold their vote for Harris were accused of being “MAGA enablers.” Our movement was faced with a profoundly untenable choice. There were times I feared it would rip us apart.

But after last Tuesday’s election, none of this really matters anymore. We simply cannot afford to turn on each other. Not now. We need each other more than ever.

I don’t yet know what kind of political strategies we will need to employ to resist the fascist reality posed by the MAGA movement – but I do know that whatever happens, we will need to show up for one another now more than ever. We will need to protect and defend one another. We will need to be clearer than ever about the values we hold sacred and be prepared to ground everything we do in the conviction that every single human life is of infinite worth – and is worth fighting for.

We will need to be clear-eyed about the challenges ahead and stand together to face them. For those of us in the Jewish community, that means lifting up solidarity as our most central sacred imperative. All the rest is mere commentary. As I said this past Yom Kippur:

In the 21st century, I believe this is the sacred calculus the Jewish people have to offer the world: Creation + Exodus = Solidarity. More than ever, the Jewish communities we create simply must value solidarity as our most sacrosanct mitzvah. In an age in which we are witnessing the increased scapegoating, yes of Jews, but also of Muslims, LGBTQ+ people, people of color, disabled people, immigrants, indigenous people and so many others, our sacred tradition must promote collective liberation first and foremost.

The predominant theme in this week’s Torah portion, Lech Lecha, is the act of going forth into the unknown with nothing but a promise of blessing and liberation. But unlike the literal meaning of the words in our portion, we must affirm that this liberation cannot be for one privileged group of people alone. We must affirm a Lech Lecha of collective liberation, where all people are God’s people and all people are chosen and the boundaries of the Promised Land extend to include all who dwell on earth.

In this moment, like Abraham and Sarah, we are all being called into a land we do not yet know. But as we read in our portion, it is a collective going-forth – for the sake of both the living and future generations.

Yes, in this current moment, there is much we do not yet know. But we do know that we will have the hearts and minds to resist what is to come. That there is still a world worth fighting for. And that the way to that world is through our solidarity and care for one another.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Brant Rosen

Sukkah Descecration on College Campuses Reflect the Much Greater Desecration in Gaza

A few days before Sukkot, the world witnessed the unbearably tragic image of 19-year-old Sha’ban al-Dalou, a software engineering student burning to death after Israel bombed Gaza’s Al-Aqsa Hospital in Deir al-Balah in Gaza. In the horrifying video footage, Sha’aban’s was lying on a hospital gurney, screaming as the flames engulfed him and onlookers screamed for help. His mother and younger brother also died in that fire. It was recently reported that his younger sister Farah has succumbed to her burns as well. May their memories be for a blessing.

Before his death, Sha’aban had recorded videos asking for help to move his family to safety in Egypt. In one video, he described his and his families life attempting to survive amidst the genocide: “I’m taking care of my family, as I’m the oldest,” adding that his parents, two sisters and two brothers were displaced five times before finding refuge on the hospital’s grounds. “The only thing between us and the freezing temperatures is this tent that we constructed by ourselves.”

Shaban al-Dalou with his parents and siblings [Photo courtesy of the al-Dalou family]

Like so many, I was shattered after learning of Sha’aban’s life and death. I was particularly devastated to learn that he burned to death while he was recovering from a previous attack and was receiving medical treatment in a shelter he had constructed to protect his family.

As it would turn out, all of this transpired as the Jewish community was preparing for the Sukkot holiday, in which we build fragile, makeshift shelters to dwell and eat in during our week-long festival. Like all of the Jewish festivals, Sukkot has now taken on an entirely new and immediate meaning after witnessing more than a year of Palestinians being driven from their homes, forced to life in flimsy makeshift tent shelters, which all too often have served as the place of their final, terrifying moments on earth.

As has been the case with other Jewish holidays this past year, many of us were unable to treat the Sukkot festival as “business as usual.” Rather, this holiday which sanctifies the literal creation of shelter, has provided us a ritual means to express our sacred solidarity with the Palestinian people during a time of genocide. And not unsurprisingly, college students across the country have once again led the way for us. According to Nate Cohn, the National Campus Organizer for Jewish Voice for Peace, almost 30 “solidarity sukkot” have been built – or are planning to be built – on campuses around the US. At least four that we know of have already been destroyed by police forces.

In the wake of the student Palestine solidarity encampment movement last spring, college administrations have spent the summer devising ways to crack down on its resurgence by developing draconian new rules designed to severely restrict freedom of assembly and speech. Of course, when it comes to Jewish students constructing sukkot on their campuses, it adds in the critical issue of freedom of religious expression. Moving, dismantling or destroying sukkot is, quite simply, act of religious desecration.

At Northwestern University, in my hometown of Evanston, the campus chapter of Jewish Voice for Peace attempted in vain to receive a permit to build a sukkah on their campus. On the eve of Sukkot last Wednesday evening, they put up a solidarity sukkah in Deering Meadow, a large open grassy area on campus (see above) – and within hours it was destroyed by campus police. With no other options, they decided to rebuild their sukkah last Friday at The Rock, a centrally located and historically protected space of expression which is the only area on campus where tents are techincally permitted.

Leaders of JVP NU reached out to my congregation, Tzedek Chicago, to support and protect their rebuilding, which took place on the eve of Shabbat. And so when the time came, Tzedek cantorial soloist Adam Gottllieb and I led a Shabbat service (see top pic) as students constructed the sukkah next to The Rock, on which they had painted the messages “TIkkun Olam Means Free Palestine” and “None of Us are Free Until All of Us are Free.” Dozens of people enthusiastically in the ceremony, which culminated in the final touches on the structure and the communal blessing for dwelling in the sukkah.

Two hours after the end of the service, we learned that campus police had come, thrown the student’s sukkah in a truck and drove it away.

There is little more to be said: this is what things have come to in American Jewish life. Jewish religious expression of solidarity with an oppressed people is deemed “antisemitic” while college campuses are desecrating sacred Jewish ritual with impunity. These facts tell you everything you need to know about the moment we are currently in.

In the end, however, the destruction of these symbolic fragile structures must not and should not be viewed primarly as an act of repression against Jewish college students. This would be an egregious misreading of the true meaning of Sukkot 2024. Rather, I fervently believe these acts must only serve to further sensitize us and deepen our outrage a desecration that is far more egregious and tragic: i.e., the genocidal violence that Israel has been inflicting on the Palestinians of Gaza, who have been seeking in vain for shelter for over a year.

And even more importantly, it must strengthen our resolve to do everything we can to create a real and lasting shelter – by finally bringing this heinous genocide to an end.

We Charge Genocide: A Sermon for Rosh Hashanah 5785

Cross-posted, in article format, in Truthout

Why do we sound the shofar on Rosh Hashanah? Over the centuries, commentators have offered us a variety of reasons. Moses Maimonides famously called it a wake-up call to personal atonement; others view it a call to action or a tribute to God’s power. This new year, however, I believe one reason stands out among all others. Today, this Rosh Hashanah, we sound the shofar as a call to moral accountability.

Today, we begin the holiest season of the year. Over the next ten days, we’ll be challenged to break open the shells of inertia and complacency that have built up over the past year. We’ll sound the shofar to herald the inauguration of a deep, collective soul searching: to look deep within, to face honestly what must be faced, if we are to truly begin our new year anew.

To put it frankly, I honestly cannot remember a Rosh Hashanah when the collective moral stakes were any higher for the Jewish community than this year. I would even go as far to say that this may be the most morally consequential High Holiday season of our lifetimes. As we begin this new year, the shofar calls us to account for a genocide, ongoing even as we speak, perpetrated by a nation acting in the name of the Jewish people.

How can we begin to fathom a moral accounting of such a magnitude? Over 41,000 Palestinians killed in Gaza to date and over 95,000 injured, the majority of whom are women and children. According to one estimate, the ultimate death toll may eventually be nearly 200,000. Whole extended families, entire Palestinian bloodlines have been wiped out completely. Much of Gaza has been literally reduced to a human graveyard, with scores of bodies buried beneath the rubble of destroyed and bulldozed homes. Neighborhoods and regions have been literally wiped off the map.

Gaza’s infrastructure and health care system has been decimated. According to the UN an “intentional and targeted starvation campaign” has led to widespread famine and disease throughout the Gaza strip. Polio has now broken out – relief workers are literally working to deliver vaccines to children as bombs and missiles fall around them.

Health care workers, humanitarian workers and journalists are being killed, injured and imprisoned in massive numbers. Human rights agencies have documented widespread torture and abuse of prisoners, including sexual abuse, throughout a network of torture camps.

Please note that this unspeakable litany is not a review of the past year. It is a description of a nightmare that continues as I speak, with no end in sight.

As we contemplate this inhuman status quo, it occurs to me that this Rosh Hashanah, the broken sound of the shofar is more than a mere all to accounting. It is a broken wail of grief – and a desperate moral challenge. This year the shofar calls out to us in no uncertain terms: We Charge Genocide.

This is not a point upon which we can equivocate. Not today. On this day, we face what must be faced and say out loud what must be said. To argue this point now would frankly be a sacrilege.

From a purely legal point of view, a myriad of academic and legal experts have long since confirmed the charge of genocide. As far back as October, Holocaust and Genocide scholar Raz Segal has called Israel’s actions in Gaza “a textbook case of genocide.” On October 18, almost 800 scholars, lawyers and practitioners called on “all relevant UN bodies…as well as the Office of the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court to immediately intervene…to protect the Palestinian population from genocide.” More recently, Omer Bartov, a respected historian of the Holocaust and Genocide Studies at Brown University accused Israel of “systematic war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocidal actions.”

But beyond the legal arguments, there is a critical, moral imperative behind this claim. For many Jews, it’s impossible to imagine – let alone say out loud – that a Jewish state, founded in the wake of the Holocaust, could possibly be perpetrating a genocide.

I understand the pain behind this refusal. I know it confronts many Jews with an unimaginable prospect: to accept that we have become our own worst nightmare. But if we cannot admit the truth on this of all days, then why bother gathering for Rosh Hashanah in the first place? To dither on this point would make a sham of a festival we dare to call the holiest season of the year.

Not long ago I had a long conversation with my dear friend and colleague Rachel Beitarie, director of the Israeli organization Zochrot. Rachel is among the precious few Israeli activists who are in unabashed solidarity with Palestinians. You may remember her presentation to our Tzedek community several months ago. Among other things, she spoke about what it was like to be an Israeli activist for Palestinian liberation who grew up on a kibbutz near the Gaza border, who personally knew Israelis who were killed and taken hostage on October 7.

During our recent conversation, Rachel and I talked in particular about the way Israel metabolizes the traumatic memory of the Holocaust as a way to rationalize away its genocidal violence in Gaza. In a follow up letter to our conversation, Rachel wrote the following words to me:

As years go by and most Holocaust survivors are no longer with us, the identification and reliving of the trauma of former genocide seems to only grow, in direct relation to the crimes committed under the excuse of the right to defend ourselves and “prevent a second Holocaust.”

Because of this unrelenting propaganda, the linkage of the Hamas attack of October 7 to the Holocaust was made immediately, even though it was logically bogus. It was understandable at first, especially from people – many of my friends and acquaintances among them – who personally experienced the horrors of that day, waiting for help that took many hours to come.

Having grown up in Israel, exposed as we are to re-traumatizing Holocaust education, the associative connection was almost inevitable. Soon however, it became clear that this linkage was being overblown and manipulated to justify the annihilation of Gaza; to justify, dare I say it, another Holocaust.

Many outside of Israel have made the linkage between October 7 and the Holocaust as well. Almost immediately in fact, the terrible massacres of that day were openly characterized as “the worst mass murder of Jews since the Holocaust.” As Rachel pointed out, the two events have nothing to do with each other whatsoever. Still, it is indeed painfully poignant to consider that this mass killing occurred in a state founded in the wake of the Holocaust in order to safeguard Jewish lives once and for all.

We can only imagine what on earth will be said about October 7 on its one year anniversary, which will arrive exactly between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. From what I’ve read about officially sponsored Jewish community commemorations, the dominant message will be thoroughly suffused with a Holocaust-informed victim mentality: “Bring them home,” “We stand with Israel,” “It’s us against the world,” with nary a mention of the vengeful carnage Israel has been unleashing on Gaza for the better part of a year.

In contrast to this particular messaging, however, I would suggest that sacred Jewish tradition presents us with an important opportunity on this anniversary. Yes, the Days of Awe are an occasion to mourn the losses of the past year – but this season is also a time to seek out a deeper understanding. To do a genuine accounting and to take real accountability.

As we start to reckon with the events of October 7, I would suggest that the first step would be to admit that this date was not a starting point. If we are to truly and honestly commemorate this tragic anniversary, we must understand it in the context of the ongoing violence and injustice known as the Nakba – a nightmare that began decades ago and is still ongoing.

As Israel’s violence in Gaza escalated during the final months of 2023, Tzedek Chicago’s board had numerous conversations about whether or not to issue a congregational statement. I’ll make a confession: I wasn’t originally in favor of it. To be honest, I was starting to become dubious about the value of these kinds of gestures. At a moment when so many of us were working overtime organizing on behalf of the Palestine solidarity movement, it seemed like a waste of time to spend our time on a congregational statement. It felt as if the only statement that needed to be made, over and over again in the streets, was “Ceasefire Now!”

Eventually, however, I came to agree with our board that Tzedek Chicago – as an avowedly anti-Zionist congregation – had a unique voice to offer on this issue. And so, during the month of December, we worked together to craft a statement titled, “In Gaza, Israel is Revealing the True Face of Zionism.”

Here’s an excerpt:

We … know there was a crucial, underlying context to (the) horrible violence (of October 7). We assert without reservation that to contextualize is not to condone. On the contrary, we must contextualize these events if we are to truly understand them – and find a better way forward.

The violence of October 7 did not occur in a vacuum. It was a brutal response to a regime of structural violence that has oppressed Palestinians for decades. At the root of this oppression is Zionism: a colonial movement that seeks to establish and maintain a Jewish majority nation-state in historic Palestine.

While Israel was founded in the traumatic wake of the Holocaust to create safety and security for the Jewish people, it was a state founded on the backs of another people, ultimately endangering the safety and security of Jews and Palestinians alike. Israel was established through what Palestinians refer to as the Nakba: the ethnic cleansing of 750,000 Palestinians from their homes in 1948. And since that time, Israel has subjected Palestinians to a regime of Jewish supremacy in order to maintain its demographic majority in the land.

This ongoing Nakba is the essential context for understanding the horrifying violence of the past three months. Indeed, since October 7, Israeli politicians have been terrifyingly open about their intentions, making it clear that the ultimate end goal of their military assault is to ethnically cleanse Gaza of its 2.2 million Palestinian residents. One prominent member of the Israeli government put it quite plainly: “We are now rolling out the Gaza Nakba. Gaza Nakba 2023. That’s how it’ll end.” More recently, Prime Minister Netanyahu was reported as saying that he is actively working to transfer Palestinians out of Gaza. The problem, he said, “is which countries will take them.”

Israeli leaders are being true to their word: we are witnessing the continuation of the Nakba in real time. As in 1948, Palestinians are being driven from their homes through force of arms. As in 1948, families are being forced to march long distances with hastily-collected possessions on their backs. As in 1948, entire regions are being razed to the ground, ensuring that they will have no homes to return to. As in 1948, Israel is actively engineering the wholesale transfer of an entire population of people.

It is now eight months since we released that statement and I believe it is more accurate than ever. In her letter to me, Rachel observed the irony that more and more Israelis are now threatening a “second Nakba” when “until recently Israelis denied that the Nakba ever happened.” Now however, many Israelis are using the term with unabashed vengeance. Through word and deed, Israel’s ultimate end game is becoming all too clear: it is the ethnic cleansing of Gaza.

This past August, in fact, the Israeli press revealed the presence of a government plan for Israel’s long term occupation of Gaza on “the day after.” According to the plan:

Israel will control the northern Gaza Strip and drive out the 300,000 Palestinians still there. Major Gen.Giora Eiland, the war’s ideologue, proposes starving them to death, or exiling them, as a lever with which to defeat Hamas. The Israeli right envisions a Jewish settlement of the area, with vast real estate potential of convenient topography, a sea view, and proximity to central Israel… The southern Gaza Strip will be left for Hamas, which will have to care for the destitute residents under Israeli siege, even after the international community loses interest in the story and moves on to other crises.

In other words, a “real time Nakba” is being discussed openly in Israeli political and academic circles. More recently, on September 15, Professor Uri Rabi, a prominent researcher at Tel Aviv University, actually said these words in a radio interview: “Remove the entire civilian population from the north, and whoever remains there will be lawfully sentenced as a terrorist and subjected to a process of starvation or extermination.”

As we engage in moral accounting over the next ten days, we must reckon seriously with words such as these. Indeed, from the very beginning of this genocide, Israeli leaders and politicians have been all too transparent about their intentions. Just as the founders of the Zionist movement themselves, from Theodor Herzl to David Ben-Gurion promoted the “transfer” of the native Palestinian population to make way for a majority Jewish state. Then, as now, we must take these leaders at their word. We must take them very seriously. We can never say we didn’t know.

More than ever before, this High Holiday season calls to us to reckon seriously with what Zionism has wrought. Not only in Gaza, but throughout the West Bank, where violence and ethnic cleansing is running rampant and in Lebanon, which is now experiencing its own carnage and displacement, bringing the entire region ever closer to all-out war.

How could it be otherwise? This is what comes of an ideology and movement that from the beginning viewed Jewish safety as zero sum; in which our security can only be achieved at the expense of others, empowerment gained through the sheer power of superior military technology, stronger weapons and higher walls.

And finally, this High Holiday season, we must take this opportunity to ask ourselves collectively: where have we fallen short? This is a critical question in particular for those of us who have been active in the Palestine solidarity movement.

If this is indeed the season for hard truths, we must face the fact that despite all our efforts this past year, we failed to stop a genocide. For all our calls for ceasefire, on street corners and in the halls of city governments, for all of the mass protests and acts of civil disobedience, for all of the courageous student activism on college campuses, a ceasefire seems farther away than ever at the moment.

This is not to say that there has not been genuine progress this past year. But how do we measure these successes against the mass killing that has occurred and continues to occur every single day? On this point, I’d like to share with you the words of Sumaya Awad, of the Adalah Justice Project, who offered us this powerful challenge at the plenary for the Socialism 2024 conference here in Chicago last month:

We know that there has been a massive shift in the United States around Palestine. We have seen poll after poll show that the majority of Americans support an arms embargo, the majority of Americans don’t want to support Israel, are critical of Israel and yet we haven’t seen that translate into the mass action we need.

Despite this massive shift, we grapple with the fact that this shift came at the expense of how many lives lost? How many people murdered? Who paid the price for these people to shift? And it’s not to say that this shift is not tremendous and incredible and good – it is all of those things, but we must also grapple with the fact that lives are being lost on the daily. And that it is all by design and that it all can be stopped in basically a moment.

And I say all of this not to pity Palestinians, quite the opposite, nor that we must grieve more. Grief is necessary, but that’s not the answer. I say it all because … we have to keep asking ourselves – you have to ask yourselves – what am I doing with this knowledge? What am I doing with this education? How is it translating into action? How does it translate into action that does not preach to the choir, but preaches to those who are not yet where we need them to be?

And you have to have an answer to that question. Because a year from now, when you are back here, you have to have an answer. Don’t find yourself just asking the same question. Be ready to answer, what have I done in the last year?

Though Sumaya spoke these words in a very different context, I find them nonetheless appropriate to the sacred imperative of this new year. A year from now, when we are back here, we will have to have an answer. We can’t find ourselves just asking the same question. We must be ready to answer: what did we do in the last year to bring this genocide to an end?

I know this in my heart and soul as well: years from now, we will likewise have to stand in judgment. When the story of this genocide is written, we will be asked: did we speak out? And if so, what did we say? What did we risk?

For now, that book is still open, even if every new page is becoming increasingly unbearable to read. Even if the world would rather move on to another story. How will we write ourselves into this book when it is finally recorded?

May we all play our part in bringing this book of the genocide to a finish. May it come to an end soon, in our own day. And when it does, may we come to understand it was only part of a larger story – an even greater book that will conclude with these glorious words: “then Palestine was finally free, from the river to the sea.”

Shalom Rav

A Blog by Rabbi Brant Rosen