Feast of Freedom

Each year at Passover, we celebrate our redemption from slavery to freedom. It is a moment of triumph for our people, but how do you observe a holiday like that when you don’t feel a sense of victory? How can you say “we were slaves, but now we are free” when hostages sit in captivity? How can you say “let all who are hungry come and eat” when Gaza is at risk of famine?

This year I imagine we in the comfort of America will have to do what so many of our ancestors have done over millennia: live with cognitive dissonance. The Spanish refugee putting together a Seder in North Africa in 1493 or the Warsaw Ghetto resident in the spring of 1942 had to find a way to connect with the Exodus story even as they were sitting in darkness.

Jews in America have always connected the Haggadah to the fight for liberation of our people, but in the past, it was our brethren in other places: the Jews of Europe during the Holocaust, Soviet Jewry in the 1970s, Ethiopian Jews in the 1980s. The difference this year is that the isolation, pain, and trauma Jews feel is worldwide. We are not worried about our people in some far-flung location. We are worried about them, and ourselves.

Fortunately, we have some excellent scholars and writers who can offer us solace and inspiration at our Seders. At a class I taught this week, called Preparing for Passover: The Meaning of Freedom, I offered a source sheet with some texts that speak to me. Leah Solomon argues that the proclamation “Let all who are hungry come and eat” reminds us that it is far too easy to only see our own pain. These words should encourage us to empathize with all who are suffering, a sentiment echoed by Rachel Goldberg, the mother of one of the hostages who rejects the “enticing and delicious world of hatred.”

David Arnow challenges us to think about the causes of our present situation, however difficult such self-reflection might be. The rabbis of the midrash noted that “particular failings of Jacob, Joseph, and his brothers set in motion a chain of events that ended in disaster for their descendants.” What were our mistakes and acts of omission and commission? What can we do to make a positive change for our people?

Rabbi Eliezer Diamond notes the bittersweet promise of the Haggadah, that “in every generation they have risen up to destroy us,” but that God “rescues us from their hand.” Redemption is a process, not a completed act. Sometimes we are in the middle, after the destruction but before the redemption. It is precisely in these moments that we need that most precious of commodities: hope.

Finally, Rabbi Gordon Tucker shares his disappointment at the fact that at the Seder each year we open the door for Elijiah, but no one shows up (unless you are my house where a mysterious figure in a sheet enters to drink some grape juice and scurry off). The hoped for messiah doesn’t come, and instead the traditional text reads: “Pour your wrath upon the nations that did not know You.” We are angry at the brokenness of the world, but Rabbi Tucker suggests that perhaps it is not God whose wrath should pour out, but ours. At the moment when Elijiah doesn’t come, we must let our anger out but then let it go. To feel rage is natural, but we cannot let it consume us.

I hope that some of these reflections provide opportunities for discussion and insight at your Seders. May this Passover bring freedom to those in chains, redemption to those who suffer, and peace to all in a time of war.

Leverage

A few weeks ago, Senator Charles Schumer, the majority leader, made a speech on the Senator floor accusing Israel’s prime minister of being an obstacle to peace and calling for new elections. Many were outraged that Schumer would call for a change in government of an American ally. Others felt that he spoke hard truths that needed to be heard. 

The possibility of an American government official influencing an Israeli election recalls the moment in 1992 when a U.S. president helped bring down an Israeli government. President George H. W. Bush had just won the first Iraq War and was seeking to create a new world order based on stability and the rule of law. He felt that an obstacle to his foreign policy was the continued Israeli-Palestinian conflict. 

He called for a peace conference to be held in Madrid where Israel would sit down for the first time with nations at war with it and, crucially, Palestinian representatives. In order to make this happen, Bush felt that Israel must stop building settlements in the occupied territories, so he called on Israel to freeze construction. The prime minister at the time, Yitzhak Shamir, refused. 

Bush decided to hold up approval of $10 billion in loan guarantees to Israel for the resettlement of the flood of Soviet immigrants coming to the country as leverage to secure the settlement freeze and Israel’s participation at the peace conference. A massive lobbying campaign was launched to get Congress to approve the loan guarantees over the president’s objection. Bush held a press conference where he described himself, the leader of the free world, as “one lonely little guy” facing off against “some powerful political forces”. 

In the end, the lonely little guy won and held up the loan guarantees while Shamir attended the peace conference. In the 1992 Israeli election, held a few months later, Shamir was defeated by the more moderate Yitzhak Rabin, who pledged to build a better relationship with the United States. It seems that the Israeli electorate was not willing to choose settlements in the West Bank and Gaza over a strong relationship with America. Rabin agreed to slow settlement construction and the loan guarantees were released by Bush. 

This episode was the last time an American president used leverage to change Israeli policy. Schumer, in his speech, noted that if Netanyahu did not alter course in the war, America should use that leverage again. It was likely a hint, with President Biden’s tacit approval, that U.S.-Israel relations could deteriorate further if a change is not made. Events since the speech, including the killing by Israel of 7 relief workers delivering food in Gaza, have only strained relations further. 

Bush lost his own election in 1992, and while his support in the Jewish community plummeted, few political analysts would argue that his Israel policy was to blame for his defeat. A poor economy and his broken promise not to raise taxes were more likely responsible. Nonetheless, since that time, no American president has withheld or conditioned aid the way Bush did.  

The Jewish vote might be one reason presidents are unlikely to take Bush’s approach, but the reality is that Republican presidents rarely do well in that demographic. Today, however, the evangelical Christian vote is far more important to Republican candidates. It’s unlikely that a Republican would defy their evangelical base, while a Democrat would be leery of angering key Jewish votes in battleground states. For now, at least, electoral politics likely means that Schumer’s speech was a warning, but unlikely to mark a major shift in America’s full support for Israel. 

My Shabbat with Joe Lieberman

The news that Joseph Lieberman died this week reminded me of the time twenty years ago that my family and I spent a Shabbat with the senator and his wife in Safed. We were living in Israel during my rabbinical studies and liked to travel around the country as much as possible. One weekend we decided to go north to the Galilee for a bit of vacation.

Safed is known for its mystical charms and is home to a number of kabbalistic synagogues and artists. On Friday evening we chose to attend a small Ashkenazi shul that was absolutely packed. The service featured joyous dancing and there in the midst of circle was Senator Lieberman. After the service, we went up to him to say Shabbat Shalom and I told him that we had a number of connections in common. He was gracious in giving us a few minutes of his time.

We happened to be staying at the Ruth Safed Rimonim Hotel, and to our surprise, Senator Lieberman was staying there too, which meant that we essentially spent the entire Shabbat with him and his wife. There weren’t a lot of guests staying there, and every meal in the hotel was buffet-style so we would see him in line to get food. Each time he would engage with us and continue our previous conversation.

I don’t remember the content of our brief conversations, only that Lieberman was a mensch. He seemed to be in Israel on some kind of official senatorian business because there were other people in his party, and they looked like they were having important discussions. He never seemed annoyed to see us again, nor did he avoid engaging. Mostly I like to tell the story so that I can begin by saying, “I once spent a Shabbat with Joe Lieberman” before I have to explain what actually happened.

There is a postscript to the story as well. A few years later, we saw Lieberman once again, this time in New York at the kosher restaurant Le Marais. Once again, he was gracious and said he remembered us, even if he didn’t.

Senator Lieberman will be remembered for his centrism and his devotion to both America and Judaism. He nearly became the first Jewish vice-president of the United States even though he was an observant Orthodox Jew. His near election may have been the high point of the 1990s Jewish golden age I wrote about a few weeks ago. Despite his commitment to Jewish practice, he and Al Gore won the popular vote with virtually no antisemitism during the campaign. Could the same be said today?

Regardless of one’s political position, we can all acknowledge that this week we lost a giant of the American Jewish community. When historians of the far future write of the history of American Jews, his story must surely be prominent. He represented the great success of our community. Unlike in other countries and time periods when Jewish politicians either converted or downplayed their Jewishness, he embraced it as an asset, and he was respected by non-Jews for his religious commitment. Joe Lieberman reminds us that we don’t have to choose. In America we can be our whole selves with both pride and success. May his memory be a blessing.

From Both Sides Now

The charge that Jews in America have a dual loyalty to both Israel and the United States has been problem since the rise of political Zionism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. American Jews have struggled to prove that while they can support first the Zionist cause and then the State of Israel, their ultimate loyalty lies with the country they live in. Not all non-Jews have accepted this argument.

This week Donald Trump once again brought up the specter of dual loyalty when he said in an interview that “[a]ny Jewish person that votes for Democrats hates their religion. They hate everything about Israel, and they should be ashamed of themselves because Israel will be destroyed.” While he has said such things in the past, we should nonetheless step back and contemplate this breathtaking statement.

It is bad enough that a candidate for President of the United States from a major political party would even hint about dual loyalty. It is astonishing that our political discourse has deteriorated to such a point that Trump would charge American Jews who vote Democratic as not being loyal enough to Israel. Let me repeat that: a person who wants to be the President of the United States wants Jews to be more loyal to Israel by voting for him than to any of the domestic issues they may care about.

Leaving aside the question of whether one candidate is better for Israel, the very insinuation of dual loyalty fits into the antisemitic trope that Jews are somehow a cabal that has outsized power working against the common good. Rather than trying to dismiss such a notion, Trump wants to elevate it as virtue that Jews should embrace. Perhaps he has been speaking with convicted spy Jonathan Pollard who said three years ago when he moved to Israel after finishing parole that Jews “will always have dual loyalty” and that he would encourage other American Jewish intelligence officers to betray their country and give secrets to Israel.

U.S. political candidates of all stripes have for years touted their pro-Israel record, but it has always been framed as one element of a robust American foreign policy. Because of the strong ties between the United States and Israel, there was no sense that one had to choose. Supporting Israel was seen as being a loyal American.

There is no guarantee that this perspective will continue forever. Some on the left would like to change American foreign policy to counter Israel, leaving many American Jews worried. A while ago I wrote about Franklin Foer’s article “The Golden Age of American Jews Is Ending”, and this week he was on WNYC to speak about it. I was fascinated and disturbed by the comments from the listening audience, which seemed to confirm Foer’s argument that the left has been playing with many of the same antisemitic tropes found on the right.

At the beginning of the segment the host Brian Lehrer relates some of the incidents described in the article, including a kippah-wearing student who goes into the gym and hears “”there goes the Jew, taking everyone’s land.” A few minutes later, the first text message from a listener read by Lehrer stated simply “[b]ut they did take the land from the Palestinians.” Foer immediately pointed out that the vast majority of American Jews are not citizens of Israel and have no control over its policy. To insinuate otherwise is antisemitism.

Later, a woman from Levittown called in to take issue with equating antisemitism on the right and left, and then proceeded to make Foer’s point for him when she said, “my fear lies with the Jews that are not being concerned with what’s going on here,” again making sweeping generalizations about the Jewish community.

A Palestinian professor wrote in to say “[w]ouldn’t the logical end of [Foer’s] argument be to say that Israel’s actions have led to rising antisemitism and the conflation of Jewishness and Israel’s actions.” Again, we see an antisemitic trope – blaming the victim for the hate that is directed their way. The argument seems to be, “if only Israel would change it’s policies, people will stop being antisemitic.” Most Jews who are aware of history know that antisemites of all political persuasions will have no trouble finding a reason to hate us.

Finally, a listener wrote “Foer’s notion that antisemitism skyrocketed after 9/11 is perplexing. I see 9/11 as ushering open and extreme anti-Muslim, not anti-Jewish stances.” Foer easily debunked this idea by pointing to the conspiracy theories that the attacks on September 11 were the result of a Mossad plot, and of course antisemites want to pit groups against one another to serve their interests. Just because Islamophobia increased after 9/11 doesn’t mean antisemitism can’t rise at the same time. In fact, many of those who hate Muslims also hate Jews.

Foer effectively demonstrates that antisemitism on the left and right is built from the same foundation, the idea that Jews are not individuals but a group that has a loyalty at odds with good and decent people. We must fight against this false notion. We are proud Americans who love and support our fellow Jews, wherever they are, even if we don’t agree with one another. We shouldn’t feel afraid to speak our minds and stand up for ourselves, and that means calling out the false narratives and the hatred wherever we see it.

A Mixed Triumph

Stories from the Holocaust often fall into two categories: tragic tales of murder and destruction, or redemption and triumph in the face of impossible odds. The reality is that many survivors experienced messy, complicated lives during and after the Shoah. These stories may not hit us with a depth of rage or a purely hopeful view of humanity, but they do remind us that every survivor is a human being, full of complexity.

Last week Adath hosted a MOSAIC book discussion with Seth Stern, author of the book Speaking Yiddish to Chickens: Holocaust Survivors on South Jersey Poultry Farms. In his account of these refugees struggling to rebuild their lives after the war, he doesn’t shy away from the dark aspects of the story. Some survivors achieved great success in America, while others struggled.

Part of the problem was that these farmers got into the chicken business at the absolute worst time. They bought high, when egg prices were at record levels, and were forced to sell low, when they had to give up their farms after egg prices crashed. It’s one thing to rebuild a life and livelihood twice or three times. Many of these survivors had to do it four or five times. At some point, your luck runs out.

Even the survivors who struggled on and off their chicken farms could point to the success of the next generation. Stern’s own grandparents were refugee farmers in South Jersey and never found material success, but they sent their daughter, his mother, to college and she in turn was able to raise a son who became a successful journalist who could chronicle their history. The story is a testament to the power of survival.

The Holocaust survivors on South Jersey poultry farms, like all of us, were subjected to forces far beyond their control, first during World War II when the great powers fought for control of Europe and the Nazis used the conflict to exterminate the Jews, and then when factory agriculture came to the United States and decimated the family farm.

So much is out of our control, but we do have the power to react. Many of the South Jersey survivors were partisans who fled to the forest and picked up arms to defend themselves. Others did whatever they could to survive in concentration camps. Their triumph was mixed because survival meant a life of trauma, pain, and struggle. For many, the ultimate success and redemption would have to wait a generation or two.

Golden Ages

We Jews have a fascination with the idea of the golden age. Because our history has taken us from country to country as we have been welcomed and expelled over the ages, we are sensitive, as a people, to the conditions that surround us. We seek out places that are welcoming to Jews and flee from places that persecute us. What we want and need to know is an answer to the question: is it good for the Jews?

Linked to the question of whether our current situation is good or not, is the broader question: what constitutes a Jewish golden age? For centuries we have looked back to our past to figure out exactly when and where Jewish communities have thrived.

As German Jews in the 19^th century experienced emancipation and a rapid improvement in their reception in society, many were fascinated by the Golden Age of Spanish Jewry in the Middle Ages. They looked to the Jews of medieval Spain as a model for successful cultural integration and in doing so made a claim for their own golden age.

The thing about golden ages is that they don’t last forever. The 19^th century German Jewish scholars studying Sephardic culture could not imagine that their communities would see similar ends. The Jews of Spain suffered pogroms and persecution, ending in expulsion in 1492 while the Nazi regime destroyed German Jewry through forced emigration and ultimately mass murder.

Today American Jewry asks similar questions. A recent long article by Franklin Foer claims that “The Golden Age of American Jews Is Ending”. Foer argues that American Jews helped to build a liberal consensus after World War II that allowed both Jews and Americans thrive. This system reached its high point in the 1990s and then began to break down after September 11, 2001 with the start of an “era of perpetual crisis” that included the war on terror, a financial crisis, and political polarization.

Today, Foer argues, Jews are buffeted between antisemitism on both the left and right as the liberal ideas of pluralism, compromise, and reason are abandoned in favor of strident certitude. Both extremes of the political spectrum are prone to conspiracy theories that inevitably center on Jews wielding outsized power. Societies where populism reigns are rarely good for the Jews.

While Foer makes no mention of Spanish Jewry, he does note that German Jews before the Holocaust reached an unprecedented pinnacle of respect and achievement, only to see their community decimated. Could American Jewry suffer a similar fate? Perhaps such a comparison may seem outlandish, but certainly German Jews never expected to suffer the devastation of the Holocaust.

Jews in 2024 America arguably have more power than Jews in 1933 Germany. We must fight for the liberal values of pluralism and democracy which have been the foundation of our golden age. We may never be able to return to the heyday of the 1990s, but history does move in cycles. Now may not be the best time for Jews in America, but we have the ability to defend ourselves and the principles we hold dear. That is the only way to ensure a bright future for ourselves and our country.

Make Some Noise

Last Shabbat I spoke about my recent trip to Barcelona and Girona and the dearth of a Jewish presence there. While there are Jewish museums, some archeological sites, and gravestones, the living Jewish community of Spain had to be reconstructed beginning in the 19^th century when Jews were allowed to return after their expulsion. There is very little evidence today of a Jewish presence going back to medieval times.

It’s understandable why there is little to see of the Jews of the Middle Ages in Spain. 1492, when the Jews were expelled, was a long time ago. A lot of erasure can happen over many centuries. Of course, Sephardic culture continued to develop as Spanish exiles moved to the Ottoman Empire, other parts of Western Europe, and North Africa, among others.

I did happen upon what I thought was some Jewish evidence in an unlikely place. On a tour of the FC Barcelona Museum, dedicated to the city’s beloved and successful professional soccer club, I came upon a display case with an item that I recognized immediately: a Purim grogger. The description indicated that the noisemaker was used during games in the 1950s.

Ratchet noisemaker at the FC Barcelona Museum.

One might think that this noisemaker is evidence of Jewish influence in Barcelona, that perhaps some crypto-Jews introduced their groggers into their rabid support for the team. In truth, this type of device is called a ratchet or a cog rattle and is used in many circumstances. It can be an instrument for a musical performance, a warning device, and even a substitute for bells in the Christian tradition.

The ratchet was popular in British soccer matches up to the 1970s as a way to increase crowd noise. Presumably, the device made its way to Spain during the same time period. Rather than serve as an example of Jewish influence on mainstream culture, the grogger is an example of Jews adopting a piece of technology that was widely available and converting it into a ritual use. Eventually, a general use item became associated exclusively with the Jewish holiday, at least in my mind.

As we prepare for Purim, it’s important to remember the connections between that holiday and other non-Jewish celebrations. Purim is a time for throwing off the tight strictures of decorum and etiquette, a sanctioned bit of topsy-turvy fun. Halloween, Holi, and Mardi gras are examples from other traditions, and one could say that a soccer match, or any sporting event, serves much the same purpose.

At a game, as on Purim, we gather together to make a lot of noise and boo our enemy. We feel the catharsis of our collective hatred of the other side. In the best of situations, we are able to channel our emotions in a constructive way, but sometimes things get out of hand. The rabbis worried about the excesses of Purim, and soccer hooligans often get out of control. The soccer ratchet was eventually banned because it was being used as a weapon by some fans. Everyone needs the chance to let off some steam, as long as it doesn’t get out of hand.

What’s in a Name?

During the Super Bowl last week, I, like millions of others, was attuned to the most exciting part … the commercials. OK, I enjoyed the game too, but one of my favorite pastimes is to try to guess the product being advertised before it is revealed at the end of the advertisement. In a society where there is immense competition for our attention, this is not always an easy task. Advertisers will go to immense creative lengths to get our attention, even if that means the content of the commercial has nothing to do with the product.

This year we were presented with another advertising problem: what to call your product. During the game, hundreds of millions of people saw an ad with the tag line “Stand Up to Jewish Hate”. Even though I knew that the ad was meant to oppose hatred directed at Jews, I turned to my wife and said, “You could read that line as trying to prevent hatred that Jews direct toward others.” Apparently, many others agreed with me that the message was confusing and poorly worded.

What’s more odd is that the ad was funded by the Foundation to Combat Antisemitism. So why didn’t they just use the tag line “Stand Up to Antisemitism”? I suspect it’s because the advertisers felt that wording would be equally confusing. It presumes that the viewer knows that antisemitism is hatred of Jews, an assumption that you cannot make in America in 2024, especially because the word antisemitism makes no mention of Jews or Jewish.

The word antisemitism is confusing for other reasons as well. Semite is a person who speaks a Semitic language, which includes Hebrew and Arabic, but antisemitism does not refer to hatred of Arabs, only Jews. In addition, there is no such thing as Semitism (outside of linguistics), against which one could be called anti-Semitic. It is for this reason that many have removed the hyphen and capital S and spell the word antisemitism.

The Super Bowl ad could have used another alternative: “Stand Up to Jew Hate”. But this wording has its own problems, not the least of which is the same confusion of “Jewish Hate”. Are we talking about hatred of Jews or Jews who hate. In addition, the word Jew tends to have a negative sound in 2024 American English. I often hear people avoid the word in favor of “Jewish person” to not sound pejorative.

So, what should the ad have said? I am no advertising executive, but how about “Don’t Hate Jews”. It’s simple and to the point, and it could fit with the other message of the commercial: that prejudice is linked. The tag line could have been interspersed with similar messages like “Don’t Hate Muslims”, and “Don’t Hate Latinos”. At a cost of millions of dollars for only 30 seconds, you have to make your Super Bowl ad count. Not only do you need to grab the viewer’s attention, you must make sure they understand your pitch. Next time the foundation has America’s attention, they better make it crystal clear that Jews are under attack and need everyone’s help.

Trade Routes

Almost from the beginning, Israel’s war against Hamas has spread to other parts of the Middle East. At the start of the war the Houthi rebels in Yemen fired missiles and drones that reached Israel’s most southern city, Eilat. The Houthis have no direct point of conflict with Israel since Yemen is over a thousand miles away, but Iran has invested much time and money in an axis of resistance against the Jewish state, the United States, and their allies.

In addition to the Houthis, other Iranian backed groups in Syria and Lebanon, such as Hezbollah, have taken the opportunity of the war to fire on Israel, while Iran’s proxies in Iraq have attacked American troops. The situation in Yemen, however, has been the most surprising. A rebel group in a country most Americans probably cannot identify on a map has inserted itself into a major regional conflict and gone to war against some of the most powerful nations in the world.

The reason the world has had to sit up and take notice of the Houthis is because of Yemen’s strategic importance. Africa and the Arabian Peninsula are separated by the narrow Bab al-Mandab Strait which controls vital access from the Mediterranean Sea to the Indian Ocean. Houthi attacks have threatened shipping, forcing boats that need access to Europe to go around the entire continent of Africa. The United States and the United Kingdom have responded with force to keep shipping lanes open.

The Jewish connection to Yemen should not be surprising, however. Jews lived there for thousands of years and played an important role in the trade routes that have always been central to international commerce in the area, even before the building of the Suez Canal. As chronicled in Amitav Ghosh’s In an Antique Land, Jewish merchants used Yemen as a way station in the bustling trade between Egypt and India in the Middle Ages. Then as now, those who controlled Yemen controlled the trade routes.

Jewish life thrived in Yemen until after the State of Israel was created and the Jews left. In Israel today, where most of the community lives, Yemenite Jews celebrate their culture. The band A-WA, made up of three Israeli sisters of Yemenite descent, fuse traditional music of their heritage with modern beats.

The National Library of Israel just announced the acquisition of the largest collection of Yemenite Jewish manuscripts, which had been accumulated over decades by a butcher who wanted to make sure the rich literary tradition of his community was preserved. The Jewish towns and neighborhoods in Yemen may no longer exist, but their heritage will live on in the library and online.

It is a shame that geopolitics must come between Israel and Yemen. Iran’s support for the Houthis ensures that the two counties will not make peace anytime soon, despite the millennia of shared history between Jews and Arabs in Yemen. In the meantime, Jews of Yemenite descent will continue to celebrate the literature, language, music, food, and other aspects of their culture. And perhaps, in our digitally connected world, the people living in Yemen today will come to appreciate those who once lived and flourished in their country.

Native Sons and Daughters

Several years ago, I gave a sermon in which I argued against the comparison of the conflict between Jews and Palestinians to that of European settlers and Native Americans. Even if one were to say that the Jews who came to the Land of Israel in the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries were like those who came to America from Europe in the 17^th and 18^th centuries, no one argues that the United States is an illegitimate country and the hundreds of millions of descendants of those Europeans should give up their land or their government.

The point of my sermon was to acknowledge the fact that the Zionist settlers did come to a land that already had inhabitants, and that some Palestinians were dispossessed. These are the types of events that happen in all kinds of countries, but only with regard to Israel is the conclusion made that it shouldn’t exist. After the service, a congregant came up to me and said, “You know rabbi, there is a problem with your analogy. It’s actually the Jews who are the indigenous people.”

I have never forgotten the comment because it pointed out how challenging it is to see one conflict in light of another. The history of European settlement in America may have some superficial similarities to the Zionist settlement of Palestine, but mostly they were different phenomena. One of the key differences centers around the question of who is indigenous.

In America it is quite clear that Native Americans were indigenous to the continent. They were here before any other people and certainly here before the Europeans. The case of the Jews is more complicated. Yossi Klein Halevi argues that the Jewish people are unique in the world because they are the only group to re-indigenize themselves. Alon Tal, a politician and environmental activist, contends that the Israeli effort to plant trees and regrow forests show an indigenous connection to the land.

Certainly, the Jewish people have a deep relationship to the Land of Israel. Whether they are indigenous or re-indigenous is a political question, but the whole idea of indigeneity is problematic. A recent article points out that the term is almost impossible to define. Does indigenous mean that you got to that land first? That would mean that Icelanders and Scandinavians are an indigenous people, but they are not normally placed in that category. Does it mean you are primitive? Such labels are demeaning. Does it mean you are a poor or oppressed minority? Well, we have a category for that: a poor and oppressed minority.

Ultimately, indigeneity is a self-description, and therefore a contested one. Jews consider themselves to be indigenous to the Land of Israel and Palestinians consider themselves indigenous to Palestine. Therefore, the term may be of little use in trying to figure out a way for the two peoples to share one land. This fact should come as no surprise to us since the concept originated in the New World where it is a helpful description of a historical situation, but not all concepts translate to all situations. Sometimes we need to create new a language to help us understand how we got here.