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The Jewish Press

(Founded in 1920)

Margie Gutnik

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Annette van de Kamp-Wright

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Richard Busse

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Margie Gutnik, President; Abigail Kutler, Ex-Officio; Danni Christensen; David Finkelstein; Bracha Goldsweig; Mary Sue Grossman; Les Kay; Natasha Kraft; Chuck Lucoff; Joseph Pinson; Andy Shefsky and Amy Tipp. The mission of the Jewish Federation of Omaha is to build and sustain a strong and vibrant Omaha Jewish Community and to support Jews in Israel and around the world. Agencies of the Federation are: Community Relations Committee, Jewish Community Center, Center for Jewish Life, Jewish Social Services, and the Jewish Press. Guidelines and highlights of the Jewish Press, including front page stories and announcements, can be found online at: wwwjewishomaha.org; click on ‘Jewish Press.’ Editorials express the view of the writer and are not necessarily representative of the views of the Jewish Press Board of Directors, the Jewish Federation of Omaha Board of Directors, or the Omaha Jewish community as a whole. The Jewish Press reserves the right to edit signed letters and articles for space and content. The Jewish Press is not responsible for the Kashrut of any product or establishment.

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The Jewish Press welcomes Letters to the Editor. They may be sent via regular mail to: The Jewish Press, 333 So. 132 St., Omaha, NE 68154; via fax: 1.402.334.5422 or via e-mail to the Editor at: avandekamp@jewishomaha. org. Letters should be no longer than 250 words and must be single-spaced typed, not hand-written. Published letters should be confined to opinions and comments on articles or events. News items should not be submitted and printed as a “Letter to the Editor.” The Editor may edit letters for content and space restrictions. Letters may be published without giving an opposing view. Information shall be verified before printing. All letters must be signed by the writer. The Jewish Press will not publish letters that appear to be part of an organized campaign, nor letters copied from the Internet. No letters should be published from candidates running for office, but others may write on their behalf. Letters of thanks should be confined to commending an institution for a program, project or event, rather than personally thanking paid staff, unless the writer chooses to turn the “Letter to the Editor” into a paid personal ad or a news article about the event, project or program which the professional staff supervised. For information, contact Annette van de KampWright, Jewish Press Editor, 402.334.6450.

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We need to set the bar higher

ANNETTE VAN DE KAMP-WRIGHT

Jewish Press Editor A few weeks ago, I ranted on this page about novelist Rooney, who wouldn’t let her novel be represented by an Israeli company. Every once in a while, we need to be reminded there are people out there who are not antisemites. Wednesday October 26, “more than 200 celebrities signed an open letter opposing efforts to boycott an LGBTQ film festival in Tel Aviv. The letter is a response to calls from activists with the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement to boycott the Tel Aviv International LGBTQ+ Film Festival, also called TLVFest, an annual film festival showcasing LGBTQ films that was founded in 2006. The letter was organized by Creative Community for Peace, an organization of entertainment industry professionals that works to counter cultural boycotts against Israel.” (Shira Hanau, JTA) First things first: who or what is ‘Creative Community for Peace?’ Creative Community for Peace (CCFP) is a nonprofit entertainment industry organization comprised of prominent members of the entertainment community who have come together to promote the arts as a bridge to peace, to counter antisemitism within the entertainment industry, and to galvanize support against the cultural boycott of Israel. According to their website, the CCFP was founded in 2012 “by David Renzer and Steve Schnur and is comprised of members of the entertainment industry who have come together to promote the arts as a means to peace, to support artistic freedom, and believe in artists and their ability to affect lives and effect change.” Affecting lives and effecting change is certainly something any cultural event in Israel will do, for better or for worse. Either it will increase understanding, or it will bring the haters out of hiberna-

tion. The intersection between LGBTQ+ activism and anti-Zionism, unfortunately, is its own warzone (don’t attend the Dyke march with a mogen David on your pride flag; you’ll be kicked out). It’s all good and well if one wants to support the LGBTQ+ community, but not if members of that community live in Israel I guess? Do they know where Tel Aviv is on the map? Never mind—let me not go down that road. Back to the CCFP and that petition they’re asking people to sign. “In Israel, movies have the unique power to bring together Jews, Arabs, and people of all races, ethnicities and backgrounds in collaboration under a shared love of the arts, working together towards the common goal of telling their stories, and building bridges of compassion and understanding,” the letter reads. Right there. The phrase ‘bring together’ is what’s central to this whole discussion. When BDS decides to boycott, they do so in the hope the entire event is canceled. That is divisive on a few different levels. It hurts the potential audience, which in Israel is by definition diverse. It takes away the artists’ ability to connect with their audience, which in turn affects their artistic muscles. It cuts off the opportunity of audience members to connect with each other. Anyone who has ever attended any type of cultural festival, whether it is film or music or visual arts, knows you connect with strangers fast when you both love the same thing. Art is its own language and it often allows us to communicate more clearly than were we to use words. So, having that petition is a good thing. I signed it too. But being so hungry for any kind of validation that I’m actually excited that Neil Patrick Harris signed that letter is a little troublesome. We’re getting crumbs and we’re supposed to be happy with it. Enough already. I’m done being grateful when someone decides to not be antisemitic. Can we set the bar a little higher?

Snowstorms, bears and Stars of David

RABBI ABRAM GOODSTEIN

JTA I grew up Jewish in Alaska. The Jewish community in Anchorage, the city where I grew up, did things their own Jewish way. It was the only kind of Judaism that I knew. For example, I used to think that everyone had their bar or bat mitzvah during the summer, because in Alaska, anyway, that was the best time to invite relatives. Later, of course, I encountered many forms of Judaism. I have lived in Jerusalem. I have worshipped and worked at Jewish communities too small for a synagogue and congregations with over 1,500 families. All these experiences convinced me to become a rabbi. But I would have never predicted that, after ordination at Hebrew Union College- Jewish Institute of Religion in 2017, I would come back to my hometown as a rabbi. I now officiate at b’nai mitzvah in the very sanctuary where I received mine. As a lover of nature and someone who has grown to appreciate Judaism in smaller cities and towns, I feel Alaska is a great place to be Jewish. While some may think it’s distant and cold, I have always found it cozy and welcoming. Except when it isn’t. This past year, as our state officials and politicians decide on how to best fight COVID, we saw an uptick of people comparing health mandates to the Holocaust. During a contentious Assembly meeting on mandating masks in Anchorage, protesters against mask mandates started wearing yellow stars of David, appropriating the Holocaust and the Nazis’ genocide against the Jewish people. Anchorage’s mayor at one point even exclaimed that the Alaskan Jewish community would support these protesters’ message. A small community of some 4,500 people, far from the large centers of Jewish life, might have been expected to let this go. Or perhaps grumble among ourselves and let “outsiders” object for us. Instead, at a hearing on masks in September, one of my congregants, State Assemblyman Forrest Dunbar, read a letter I had written. “It was heartwrenching for me when I noticed individuals were wearing yellow Stars of David, mimicking my Jewish ancestors who perished during the Holocaust,” he read, quoting me. “For myself and most Jews, seeing the yellow Star of David on someone’s chest elicits the same feeling as seeing a swastika on a flag or the SS insignia on a uniform. I believe it is a constitutional right to protest for your values. But I request that you do not use symbols that diminish the 6 million Jews who were murdered during the Holocaust.” The mayor apologized the next day, thanks to the work of a confident Jewish community that showed him how hurtful his remarks were for Alaskan Jews. Our confidence comes with deep roots. In 1900, a community of 60 Jews celebrated Rosh Hashanah in Nome using a Torah brought by Sam Bayles, a Latvian immigrant who sought his fortune in the Alaska Gold Rush. The Bayles Torah stayed in Nome until after World War I, when it was moved slightly south (537 miles) to my congregation, Congregation Beth Sholom in Anchorage, where it remains today alongside other Torah scrolls with their own uniquely Alaskan histories. Their stories are much the same as the story of how Jews came to Alaska. Whether through a pioneering spirit, a sense of amazement or a need to connect with tradition in the farthest North, Jews have been coming to Alaska since before it was even a state. I often feel that Jews in the lower 48 consider Judaism in Alaska to be diminished due to its isolation and its limited population. We certainly have our own unique problems here. Starting Shabbat is a difficult venture when our sunsets are swinging from light most of the night to dark most of the day. Moose get in our sukkahs, and snowstorms and bears have prevented us from coming or leaving shul. However, I believe that Judaism is beautiful here. This is not a place where Judaism just survives, but a place where Judaism thrives. We have our own special Alaskan way of being Jewish. For example, our community, which has 160 family members, has no formal mikveh, or ritual bath,

and yet we are surrounded by mikveh possibilities. Every one of Alaska’s 3 million lakes are pristine, and most of them are remote. Every summer I ready laminated mikveh prayer cards for Jewish Alaskans who wish to enjoy a mikveh experience against the incredible backdrop of rugged mountains and emerald green forests.

A moose pays a visit to the grounds of Congregation Beth Sholom in

Anchorage, Alaska, May 17, 2018. Credit: Margie Bauman, Congregation Beth Sholom Most people’s Jewish experience, I imagine, come from a connection to Jewish institutions, Jewish professionals and Jewish friends. My Jewish experiences seem always to be nestled among the splendor of God’s creations. The dispute over Holocaust analogies and its resolution was a great reminder that Jews in Alaska are a part of, not apart from, Alaska. We are not an isolated shtetl, but rather working members of the Alaskan community. There are several current Alaskan Jewish lawmakers, and we have been represented in state leadership all the way back to the framing of the Alaska Constitution. Prior to the current Anchorage mayor’s hurtful comments, three of the city’s previous mayors were Jewish. We love this place, and we support it in every way we can.

Rabbi Abram Goodstein is the rabbi of Congregation Beth Sholom in Anchorage, Alaska and the co-host of the podcast What Divines Us.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.

OREN JACOBSON

JTA I’ve spent most of the last decade focused on grassroots organizing and capacity building inside the American progressive movement. From helping build the largest leadership development organization on the left, to launching a first-of-its-kind organization to mobilize male allies into the fight to protect and expand reproductive freedom, I’ve proudly helped elect progressive change makers and pass landmark legislation. I’ve done all of that as a Jew who wears a kippah in public, as someone who, statistically speaking, shouldn’t exist. My grandfather is one of the 10% of Polish-born Jews to survive World War II. Three million of his Jewish neighbors, and another 3 million across Europe, were packed into boxcars and sent to the slaughter, to gas chambers, to the ovens. What I am is central to who I am. So when I saw the statement from the Washington, D.C., chapter of the Sunrise Movement explaining its refusal to march in a voting rights rally with Jewish groups because they are “Zionists”, I understood immediately that it was deeply problematic. Not only did the decision have the potential impact of spreading anti-Jewish bigotry, but it also weakened our movement more broadly at a time when democracy, which is necessary to ensure civil rights, is under assault in America. For many people, the anti-Jewish nature of the statement wasn’t so obvious. When moments like this arise, I get texts and calls from progressive peers across the country who ask: “Is this antisemitic?” To answer the question, I begin by explaining what it means to be a Jew. Judaism is the religion of the Jewish people. But Jewish identity is so much bigger and more diverse than religion. Some of us are deeply religious. Some of us are totally secular. All of us are Jews. We’re a people, not simply a religious community. Contrary to what most think, antisemitism is not anti-Judaism in its modern form (several hundred years). It’s anti-Jew. It’s not about how Jews pray, but rather about who they are and what they are accused of doing. Jews get attacked for supposedly controlling the world (governments, banks, media), for being disloyal to our home countries, for killing Jesus, for making up the Holocaust, for being greedy, for undermining the white race and subverting people of color (among other things). We’ve been blamed for plagues, famine, economic hardship and war. Whatever major problem a society has, Jews have been blamed for it. None of those things has anything to do with religion. Criticism of Israel or opposition to it isn’t necessarily antisemitic. Harsh criticism of Israeli government policy may make us uncomfortable but isn’t antisemitic. But the Sunrise DC statement wasn’t about policy. By attacking “Zionist organizations” in a voting rights coalition, and saying that they can’t participate in a coalition that includes them, Sunrise DC basically said it won’t work alongside Jewish organizations (or Jews) that believe the state of Israel has the right to exist. For the average Jew, Zionism has become simply the idea that Israel has the right to exist, rather than an embrace of the policies of its government. The Zionist movement got its name in the late 19th century, but it really put a label on a 2,000-year-old yearning to return to the native land Jews were violently forced out of (in an act of colonization). That yearning grew over time as we failed to find sustained peace and security elsewhere, including in Europe, North Africa and the broader Middle East. That’s why when people attack Zionists, we hear “Jews.” We hear them saying that the 80-90% of Jews who believe Israel has a right to exist are unacceptable, and that Israel, a country that came into existence with the vote of the international community and today is home to 7 million Jews, must be ended. Why is that antisemitism? First, it singles out Jews when most people believe Israel has the right to exist. (In fact, 85% of the general public in America believes the statement “Israel does not have a right to exist” is antisemitic, according to a survey released this week.) Second, it seeks to deny Jewish people the right to self-determination by erasing our peoplehood and connection to the land. Third, it declares that a national movement for Jews is uniquely unacceptable, while at the same time advocating in support of another national movement. Fourth, it divides Jews into good and bad. Only those who oppose their own national movement can stay. Only Jews who reject Zionism are allowed. Replace “Jew” with any other group and ask if that would be acceptable. Even if you forswear coalitions with anyone, Jewish or not, who thinks Israel is legitimate, that still denies the Jewish people’s right to self-determination. It says that Jews must be a perpetual minority on this earth subject to the whims and bigotries of the societies they live in. For thousands of years Jews tried that and failed to find permanent refuge — which, fairly or not, is part of the reason most Jews believe in the right to, and need for, national self-determination in some portion of a contested land. Sunrise DC wasn’t interested in the nature of their shunned Jewish allies’ support for Israel — even though each of the three groups, like most Jews in America, have advocated for a Palestinian state and for an end to policies by the government of Israel that harm the Palestinian people, including, but not limited to, the occupation of the West Bank. Ultimately, only Jews get to define who and what we are and what antisemitism is. Too often in progressive spaces that right is denied to Jews. Instead, to justify their own positions, some rely on Jews whose voices, while relevant, are far from representative on the question of what constitutes antisemitism. If someone ignored the voices and lived realities of 80-90% of any other minority group, most progressives would quickly recognize that as an act of tokenization to shield biases (or worse). I believe in standing up for those who are attacked for the crime of being who they are as much as I believe in standing up for Jewish life. For me, this work is personal, because I feel like I owe it to my grandfather. To Jews who were murdered and never had a chance to live. To my peers here who face systemic racism and bigotry. And yes, because I believe “Never Again” isn’t just a slogan to hope for, but rather a mission to fight for.

Oren Jacobson is the co-founder of Project Shema.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.

This article was edited for length. Please see the full text at www.omahajewishpress.com.

Credit: Jewish Telegraphic Agency illustration

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