Podcasts about Sephardi Jews

My recent interview with Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine about his book, Hakham Tsevi Ashkenazi and the Battlegrounds of the Early Modern Rabbinate (Littman Library, 2024), illuminated the dynamic interplay between Sephardi and Ashkenazi traditions-a theme that resonates deeply with our mission at the Unity Through Diversity Institute. From the outset, Rabbi Levine's scholarship made clear that Hakham Tsevi's life was shaped by both geography and intellectual inheritance. The map at the beginning of his book, as he notes, is more than a visual aid; it is a testament to the diverse worlds Hakham Tsevi traversed. What struck me most was Hakham Tsevi's dual heritage. Raised in the Ashkenazi tradition, his formative years were marked by the customs and halakhic frameworks of Central and Eastern Europe. However, his sojourn in the Ottoman Empire brought him into close contact with the Sephardi world. This was not a mere footnote in his biography; it fundamentally altered his worldview and rabbinic outlook. The mere fact that he is called Hakham, a term of Rabbinic authority used by Sephardi Jews, yet insisted on only taking posts in Ashkenazi institutions, shows a menagerie of influences and appreciation for the diverse Jewish influences within halakhic practice. Rabbi Levine and I discussed how, despite his Ashkenazi roots, and adherence to his Ashkenazi traditions, Hakham Tsevi's training among Sephardim left an indelible mark. This influence became evident in his encouragement for scholars to prioritize accessible texts and to remain wary of the potential misuse of mystical works-a stance that echoed the concerns of Sephardi rabbis as books became more widely available. And the Sephardic influence may also be seen in his approach to education – much in line with the Sephardic philosophy, he recommended a TaNaKh first and then mishna focused curriculum with Talmud coming only after true comprehension and Kabbalah only for those who are truly gifted and fully fluent in all the other texts. “Hakham Tsevi broke new ground. He adopted a decidedly oppositional orientation towards minhag and freely attacked long-standing Ashkenazi traditions. He imported into his halakhic decisions practices from the Sephardi milieu, and advocated for a Sephardi educational curriculum.” (Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine, p. 131) Hakham Tsevi's life demonstrates that Jewish identity is not static; it is forged in dialogue, sometimes in tension, but always in pursuit of a richer, more inclusive heritage. As we continue our work at the Unity Through Diversity Institute, Hakham Tsevi's example inspires us to embrace complexity, to learn from one another, and to honor the multiple strands that make up the fabric of Jewish life. “Before his tombstone was destroyed by the Nazis, it was adorned with the image of a gazelle, a tsevi. Moving swiftly and confidently from one field to the next, Hakham Tsevi was attacked often by adversaries who thought themselves wiser or more capable. Perhaps some of them were. But those adversaries never stopped him from speaking his mind, rendering his legal decisions, or publishing his rulings. In fact, they often compelled him to act or react…Students of halakhah remember him by the answers he generated; students of history, by the questions.” (Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine, conclusion) I am grateful to Rabbi Levine for shedding light on this remarkable figure and hope we find this passion to challenge the norm and raise the difficult questions in more leaders. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/intellectual-history

My recent interview with Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine about his book, Hakham Tsevi Ashkenazi and the Battlegrounds of the Early Modern Rabbinate (Littman Library, 2024), illuminated the dynamic interplay between Sephardi and Ashkenazi traditions-a theme that resonates deeply with our mission at the Unity Through Diversity Institute. From the outset, Rabbi Levine's scholarship made clear that Hakham Tsevi's life was shaped by both geography and intellectual inheritance. The map at the beginning of his book, as he notes, is more than a visual aid; it is a testament to the diverse worlds Hakham Tsevi traversed. What struck me most was Hakham Tsevi's dual heritage. Raised in the Ashkenazi tradition, his formative years were marked by the customs and halakhic frameworks of Central and Eastern Europe. However, his sojourn in the Ottoman Empire brought him into close contact with the Sephardi world. This was not a mere footnote in his biography; it fundamentally altered his worldview and rabbinic outlook. The mere fact that he is called Hakham, a term of Rabbinic authority used by Sephardi Jews, yet insisted on only taking posts in Ashkenazi institutions, shows a menagerie of influences and appreciation for the diverse Jewish influences within halakhic practice. Rabbi Levine and I discussed how, despite his Ashkenazi roots, and adherence to his Ashkenazi traditions, Hakham Tsevi's training among Sephardim left an indelible mark. This influence became evident in his encouragement for scholars to prioritize accessible texts and to remain wary of the potential misuse of mystical works-a stance that echoed the concerns of Sephardi rabbis as books became more widely available. And the Sephardic influence may also be seen in his approach to education – much in line with the Sephardic philosophy, he recommended a TaNaKh first and then mishna focused curriculum with Talmud coming only after true comprehension and Kabbalah only for those who are truly gifted and fully fluent in all the other texts. “Hakham Tsevi broke new ground. He adopted a decidedly oppositional orientation towards minhag and freely attacked long-standing Ashkenazi traditions. He imported into his halakhic decisions practices from the Sephardi milieu, and advocated for a Sephardi educational curriculum.” (Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine, p. 131) Hakham Tsevi's life demonstrates that Jewish identity is not static; it is forged in dialogue, sometimes in tension, but always in pursuit of a richer, more inclusive heritage. As we continue our work at the Unity Through Diversity Institute, Hakham Tsevi's example inspires us to embrace complexity, to learn from one another, and to honor the multiple strands that make up the fabric of Jewish life. “Before his tombstone was destroyed by the Nazis, it was adorned with the image of a gazelle, a tsevi. Moving swiftly and confidently from one field to the next, Hakham Tsevi was attacked often by adversaries who thought themselves wiser or more capable. Perhaps some of them were. But those adversaries never stopped him from speaking his mind, rendering his legal decisions, or publishing his rulings. In fact, they often compelled him to act or react…Students of halakhah remember him by the answers he generated; students of history, by the questions.” (Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine, conclusion) I am grateful to Rabbi Levine for shedding light on this remarkable figure and hope we find this passion to challenge the norm and raise the difficult questions in more leaders. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/religion

My recent interview with Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine about his book, Hakham Tsevi Ashkenazi and the Battlegrounds of the Early Modern Rabbinate (Littman Library, 2024), illuminated the dynamic interplay between Sephardi and Ashkenazi traditions-a theme that resonates deeply with our mission at the Unity Through Diversity Institute. From the outset, Rabbi Levine's scholarship made clear that Hakham Tsevi's life was shaped by both geography and intellectual inheritance. The map at the beginning of his book, as he notes, is more than a visual aid; it is a testament to the diverse worlds Hakham Tsevi traversed. What struck me most was Hakham Tsevi's dual heritage. Raised in the Ashkenazi tradition, his formative years were marked by the customs and halakhic frameworks of Central and Eastern Europe. However, his sojourn in the Ottoman Empire brought him into close contact with the Sephardi world. This was not a mere footnote in his biography; it fundamentally altered his worldview and rabbinic outlook. The mere fact that he is called Hakham, a term of Rabbinic authority used by Sephardi Jews, yet insisted on only taking posts in Ashkenazi institutions, shows a menagerie of influences and appreciation for the diverse Jewish influences within halakhic practice. Rabbi Levine and I discussed how, despite his Ashkenazi roots, and adherence to his Ashkenazi traditions, Hakham Tsevi's training among Sephardim left an indelible mark. This influence became evident in his encouragement for scholars to prioritize accessible texts and to remain wary of the potential misuse of mystical works-a stance that echoed the concerns of Sephardi rabbis as books became more widely available. And the Sephardic influence may also be seen in his approach to education – much in line with the Sephardic philosophy, he recommended a TaNaKh first and then mishna focused curriculum with Talmud coming only after true comprehension and Kabbalah only for those who are truly gifted and fully fluent in all the other texts. “Hakham Tsevi broke new ground. He adopted a decidedly oppositional orientation towards minhag and freely attacked long-standing Ashkenazi traditions. He imported into his halakhic decisions practices from the Sephardi milieu, and advocated for a Sephardi educational curriculum.” (Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine, p. 131) Hakham Tsevi's life demonstrates that Jewish identity is not static; it is forged in dialogue, sometimes in tension, but always in pursuit of a richer, more inclusive heritage. As we continue our work at the Unity Through Diversity Institute, Hakham Tsevi's example inspires us to embrace complexity, to learn from one another, and to honor the multiple strands that make up the fabric of Jewish life. “Before his tombstone was destroyed by the Nazis, it was adorned with the image of a gazelle, a tsevi. Moving swiftly and confidently from one field to the next, Hakham Tsevi was attacked often by adversaries who thought themselves wiser or more capable. Perhaps some of them were. But those adversaries never stopped him from speaking his mind, rendering his legal decisions, or publishing his rulings. In fact, they often compelled him to act or react…Students of halakhah remember him by the answers he generated; students of history, by the questions.” (Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine, conclusion) I am grateful to Rabbi Levine for shedding light on this remarkable figure and hope we find this passion to challenge the norm and raise the difficult questions in more leaders. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/biography

My recent interview with Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine about his book, Hakham Tsevi Ashkenazi and the Battlegrounds of the Early Modern Rabbinate (Littman Library, 2024), illuminated the dynamic interplay between Sephardi and Ashkenazi traditions-a theme that resonates deeply with our mission at the Unity Through Diversity Institute. From the outset, Rabbi Levine's scholarship made clear that Hakham Tsevi's life was shaped by both geography and intellectual inheritance. The map at the beginning of his book, as he notes, is more than a visual aid; it is a testament to the diverse worlds Hakham Tsevi traversed. What struck me most was Hakham Tsevi's dual heritage. Raised in the Ashkenazi tradition, his formative years were marked by the customs and halakhic frameworks of Central and Eastern Europe. However, his sojourn in the Ottoman Empire brought him into close contact with the Sephardi world. This was not a mere footnote in his biography; it fundamentally altered his worldview and rabbinic outlook. The mere fact that he is called Hakham, a term of Rabbinic authority used by Sephardi Jews, yet insisted on only taking posts in Ashkenazi institutions, shows a menagerie of influences and appreciation for the diverse Jewish influences within halakhic practice. Rabbi Levine and I discussed how, despite his Ashkenazi roots, and adherence to his Ashkenazi traditions, Hakham Tsevi's training among Sephardim left an indelible mark. This influence became evident in his encouragement for scholars to prioritize accessible texts and to remain wary of the potential misuse of mystical works-a stance that echoed the concerns of Sephardi rabbis as books became more widely available. And the Sephardic influence may also be seen in his approach to education – much in line with the Sephardic philosophy, he recommended a TaNaKh first and then mishna focused curriculum with Talmud coming only after true comprehension and Kabbalah only for those who are truly gifted and fully fluent in all the other texts. “Hakham Tsevi broke new ground. He adopted a decidedly oppositional orientation towards minhag and freely attacked long-standing Ashkenazi traditions. He imported into his halakhic decisions practices from the Sephardi milieu, and advocated for a Sephardi educational curriculum.” (Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine, p. 131) Hakham Tsevi's life demonstrates that Jewish identity is not static; it is forged in dialogue, sometimes in tension, but always in pursuit of a richer, more inclusive heritage. As we continue our work at the Unity Through Diversity Institute, Hakham Tsevi's example inspires us to embrace complexity, to learn from one another, and to honor the multiple strands that make up the fabric of Jewish life. “Before his tombstone was destroyed by the Nazis, it was adorned with the image of a gazelle, a tsevi. Moving swiftly and confidently from one field to the next, Hakham Tsevi was attacked often by adversaries who thought themselves wiser or more capable. Perhaps some of them were. But those adversaries never stopped him from speaking his mind, rendering his legal decisions, or publishing his rulings. In fact, they often compelled him to act or react…Students of halakhah remember him by the answers he generated; students of history, by the questions.” (Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine, conclusion) I am grateful to Rabbi Levine for shedding light on this remarkable figure and hope we find this passion to challenge the norm and raise the difficult questions in more leaders. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

My recent interview with Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine about his book, Hakham Tsevi Ashkenazi and the Battlegrounds of the Early Modern Rabbinate (Littman Library, 2024), illuminated the dynamic interplay between Sephardi and Ashkenazi traditions-a theme that resonates deeply with our mission at the Unity Through Diversity Institute. From the outset, Rabbi Levine's scholarship made clear that Hakham Tsevi's life was shaped by both geography and intellectual inheritance. The map at the beginning of his book, as he notes, is more than a visual aid; it is a testament to the diverse worlds Hakham Tsevi traversed. What struck me most was Hakham Tsevi's dual heritage. Raised in the Ashkenazi tradition, his formative years were marked by the customs and halakhic frameworks of Central and Eastern Europe. However, his sojourn in the Ottoman Empire brought him into close contact with the Sephardi world. This was not a mere footnote in his biography; it fundamentally altered his worldview and rabbinic outlook. The mere fact that he is called Hakham, a term of Rabbinic authority used by Sephardi Jews, yet insisted on only taking posts in Ashkenazi institutions, shows a menagerie of influences and appreciation for the diverse Jewish influences within halakhic practice. Rabbi Levine and I discussed how, despite his Ashkenazi roots, and adherence to his Ashkenazi traditions, Hakham Tsevi's training among Sephardim left an indelible mark. This influence became evident in his encouragement for scholars to prioritize accessible texts and to remain wary of the potential misuse of mystical works-a stance that echoed the concerns of Sephardi rabbis as books became more widely available. And the Sephardic influence may also be seen in his approach to education – much in line with the Sephardic philosophy, he recommended a TaNaKh first and then mishna focused curriculum with Talmud coming only after true comprehension and Kabbalah only for those who are truly gifted and fully fluent in all the other texts. “Hakham Tsevi broke new ground. He adopted a decidedly oppositional orientation towards minhag and freely attacked long-standing Ashkenazi traditions. He imported into his halakhic decisions practices from the Sephardi milieu, and advocated for a Sephardi educational curriculum.” (Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine, p. 131) Hakham Tsevi's life demonstrates that Jewish identity is not static; it is forged in dialogue, sometimes in tension, but always in pursuit of a richer, more inclusive heritage. As we continue our work at the Unity Through Diversity Institute, Hakham Tsevi's example inspires us to embrace complexity, to learn from one another, and to honor the multiple strands that make up the fabric of Jewish life. “Before his tombstone was destroyed by the Nazis, it was adorned with the image of a gazelle, a tsevi. Moving swiftly and confidently from one field to the next, Hakham Tsevi was attacked often by adversaries who thought themselves wiser or more capable. Perhaps some of them were. But those adversaries never stopped him from speaking his mind, rendering his legal decisions, or publishing his rulings. In fact, they often compelled him to act or react…Students of halakhah remember him by the answers he generated; students of history, by the questions.” (Rabbi Dr. Yosie Levine, conclusion) I am grateful to Rabbi Levine for shedding light on this remarkable figure and hope we find this passion to challenge the norm and raise the difficult questions in more leaders. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/jewish-studies

In this deeply personal episode, Shelley Silas guides us through her intricate journey of Jewish identity, shaped by her unique heritage, family dynamics, and the profound impact of loss.Our GuestShelley Silas is a playwright and storyteller whose work delves into the nuances of identity and cultural belonging. Her plays, including "Calcutta Kosher," reflect her diverse heritage and the challenges of navigating multiple identities.Key TopicsMultifaceted Identity: Exploring the intersection of Baghdadi Jewish heritage, Indian roots, and LGBTQ+ identity.Family and Loss: How significant life events, especially the loss of family members, reshape one's understanding of Jewish identity and cultural practices.Your guideShort definitions of terms mentioned in this episode:Sephardi - Jews descended from Iberia and the Spanish diasporaAshkenazi: Jewish people descended from Germany and Northern FranceMizrahi: Jews from the Middle East and North AfricaShul: Yiddish word for synagogueKippah: A small skull cap worn by Jewish menWant to learn more? Listen to previous episodes where we discuss identity.S1E1 The Big Three Origin StoriesS1E7 “Identity is overrated” with Dr Orphira GamlielReferences & ResourcesThe Royal Literary Fund - Shelley Silas's profile and works, including "Calcutta Kosher"Jewish Museum London - blog entitled Understanding the Indian Baghdadi JewsDive deeper into the JewniverseSubscribe to our SubstackWho Jew Think You Are? Your turn! Share your storyFind us elsewhere, here!Show creditsHost / Producer: Eylan EzekielPost-production: Communicating for ImpactArtwork: Emily TheodoreMusic: Aleksafor utransndr KarabanovSound effects: Serge Quadrado Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

On October 7, 2023, Hamas launched the deadliest attack on Jews since the Holocaust, calling it Operation Al Aqsa. For journalist Yardena Schwartz, the massacre was a chilling echo of the 1929 Hebron Massacre—the brutal slaughter of nearly 70 Jews, incited by propaganda that Jews sought to seize the Al Aqsa Mosque. At the time, she was deep into writing her first book, Ghosts of a Holy War: The 1929 Massacre in Palestine That Ignited the Arab-Israeli Conflict. In this episode, Yardena shares how history repeated itself, how the October 7 attack reshaped her book, and why understanding the past is essential to making sense of the present. ___ Read:  Ghosts of a Holy War: The 1929 Massacre in Palestine That Ignited the Arab Israeli Conflict Listen – AJC Podcasts: The Forgotten Exodus: Untold stories of Jews who left or were driven from Arab nations and Iran Social media influencer Hen Mazzig on leaving Tunisia Chef Einat Admony on leaving Iran Playwright Oren Safdie on leaving Syria Cartoonist Carol Isaacs on leaving Iraq Novelist Andre Aciman on leaving Egypt People of the Pod:  Latest Episode: Higher Education in Turmoil: Balancing Academic Freedom and the Fight Against Antisemitism Held Hostage in Gaza: A Mother's Fight for Freedom and Justice Yossi Klein Halevi on the Convergence of Politics and Religion at Jerusalem's Temple Mount Follow People of the Pod on your favorite podcast app, and learn more at AJC.org/PeopleofthePod You can reach us at: peopleofthepod@ajc.org If you've appreciated this episode, please be sure to tell your friends, and rate and review us on Apple Podcasts or Spotify. __ Transcript of Interview with Yardena Schwartz: Manya Brachear Pashman: Hello, and welcome to People of the Pod, brought to you by American Jewish Committee. Each week, we take you beyond the headlines to help you understand what they all mean for America, Israel and the Jewish people. I'm your host Manya Brachear Pashman:. In October 2023 journalist Yardena Schwartz was in the middle of writing her first book exploring the rarely talked about 1929 Hebron massacre, in which nearly 70 Jews were murdered, dozens more injured by their Muslim neighbors during riots incited by the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, who spread lies that Jews wanted to take over the Al Aqsa Mosque. When she heard reports of the October 7 terror attacks by Hamas dubbed Operation Al Aqsa, she realized just how relevant and prescient her book would be, and began drafting some new chapters. Yardena is with us now to discuss that book titled Ghosts of a Holy War: The 1929 Massacre in Palestine that ignited the Arab Israeli conflict. Yardena, welcome to People of the Pod.  Yardena Schwartz: Great to be here, Manya. Manya Brachear Pashman: So full disclosure to you and our audience. You attended Columbia Journalism School 10 years after I did, and you took Professor Ari Goldman's class on covering religions 10 years after I did that, class had always traveled to Israel, and I had hoped it would be my ticket to go to Israel for the first time, but the Second Intifada prevented that, and we went to Russia and Ukraine. Instead, your class did go to Israel, and that was your first visit to Hebron, correct?  Yardena Schwartz: So it was in 2011 and we went to Hebron for one day out of our 10 day trip to Israel, and it was my first time there. I was the only Jewish student in our class. It was about 15 of us, and I was the only one who had been to Israel. I had been all over Israel, but I had never been to Chevron. And our tour was with Breaking the Silence, an organization of former Israeli soldiers who had served in Hebron or in other parts of the West Bank and wanted Israelis to know what was happening in Hebron and how Palestinians were living there, and the various restrictions that were put in place as a result of terrorist attacks. But nevertheless, you know, those restrictions were extremely disturbing, and that brief visit in 2011 made me really never want to go back to Hebron. And when I moved to Israel two years later to become a freelance journalist there, and, you know, to move to Israel because I loved Israel, and still obviously love Israel, I didn't really go back to Chevron because I, you know, was really troubled by what I saw there. But this book took me, of course, back to Chevron hundreds of times, spending hundreds of hours there. And it came to be, you know, my expertise in this conflict, in my reporting. And you know, of course, Heron is kind of the main character in this book, Manya Brachear Pashman: Tell us how you came to find out about this massacre. Was it mentioned during that class visit in 2011 or was it later that you learned about it? Yardena Schwartz: So that was one of the most interesting things about my early adventure into writing this book, was that I had of course been to have Ron, and yet, during that day that we spent there learning so much about the history of this place, this deeply holy place to so many people, there was no mention of the massacre of 1929, so, you know, I knew that Chevron is, you know, the second holiest city in Judaism, the burial place of Abraham And the matrix and patriarchs of the Jewish people. And you know the first place where King David established his kingdom before Jerusalem. So it was holy before Jerusalem. And yet I had no idea that this ancient Jewish community in Hebron had been decimated in 1929 in one of the worst pogroms ever perpetrated. We all know about the kishineff pogrom of 1904 and yet the pogrom in 1929 in Hebron, perpetrated by the Muslim residents of Hebron, against their Jewish neighbors, was more deadly and more gruesome than the kishineff pogrom, and it effectively ended 1000s of years of Jewish presence in this holy city. And so when I was told by my mentor, Yossi Klein Halevi, the amazing writer, that there was a family in Memphis, Tennessee that had discovered a box of letters in their attic written by a young American man from. Memphis, who had traveled to Chevron in 1928 to study at the Hebron yeshiva, which was at the time, the most prestigious yeshiva in the land of Israel in what was then, of course, British Mandate Palestine. And that this young man had been killed in that massacre. Yet his letters, you know, painted this vivid portrait of what Chevron was before the massacre that took his life. I was immediately fascinated. And I, you know, wanted to meet this family, read these letters and see how I could bring the story to life. And I was introduced to them by, yes, in 2019 so that's when I began working on my book. And you know, as you mentioned, I was still writing the book in 2023 on October 7, and this book I had been writing about this massacre nearly a century ago immediately became more relevant than I ever hoped it would be.  Manya Brachear Pashman: The young American man from Memphis. His name was David Schoenberg. Give our listeners a history lesson. Tell us about this 1929 massacre. So Yardena Schwartz: On August 24 1929 also a Shabbat morning in crevorone, every Jewish family had locked their doors and windows. They were cowering in fear as 1000s of Muslim men rioted outside their homes, throwing rocks at their windows, breaking down their doors and essentially hunting down Jews, much like they did on October 7, families were slaughtered. Women and teenage girls were raped by their neighbors in front of their family members. Infants were murdered in their mother's arms. Children watched as their parents were butchered by their neighbors, rabbis, yeshiva students were castrated and Arabic speaking Jews, you know, Sephardi, Mizrahi, Jews, who composed about half of the Jewish population in Hebron at the time, and were very friendly with their Arab neighbors. You know, they went to each other's weddings and holidays, went to each other's shops, and these people were also slaughtered. It wasn't just the yeshiva students who had come from Europe or from America to study there, or, you know, the Ashkenazi Jewish families. It was, you know, Arabic speaking Jews whose families had been there for generations and had lived side by side in peace with their Muslim neighbors for centuries. They too were slaughtered. Manya Brachear Pashman: Why did their Muslim neighbors turn on them so suddenly and violently? The Yardena Schwartz: rioters that day were shouting Allahu Akbar. They claimed to be defending Islam and Al Aqsa from this supposed Jewish plot to destroy Al Aqsa in order to rebuild the Third Temple. This is what they had been told by their leaders and by Imams and their mosques and in Hebron, that Lai had also extended to the tomb of the patriarchs and matriarchs, which is known in Arabic as the Ibrahimi mosque. Imams there had told Muslims in Hebron that the Jews of Hebron were planning to conquer Ibrahimi mosque in order to turn it into a synagogue. So this incitement and this disinformation that continues to drive the conflict today. Really began in 1929 the rumors about this supposed Jewish plot to destroy Al Aqsa that began in 1928 around the same time that David Schoenberg arrived in Palestine to study at the yeshiva. Manya Brachear Pashman: So in addition to the letters that David Schoenberg wrote to his family back in Tennessee. How else did you piece together this history? How did you go about reporting and researching it? Who kept records?  Yardena Schwartz: So it's really interesting, because I was so surprised by the lack of literature on this really dramatic moment in history, in the history of Israel, the history of this conflict. And yet, despite the fact there are really no books in English, at least, about the massacre and about these riots and what led to them, there were mountains of, you know, testimony from victims and survivors. The British carried out this commission after the riots that produced this 400 page report filled with testimony of British officials, Arab officials, Jewish officials, survivors. So there was just so much material to work with. Also, survivors ended up writing books about their experiences in Hebron, very similar to David's letters, in a way, because they wrote not only about the riots and the massacre itself, but also what they experienced in Hebron before they too, wrote about, you know, the relatively peaceful relations between the city's Jewish minority and the Arab majority. And I also relied on archival newspaper reports so the. Riots really occupied the front pages of American newspapers for about a week, because it took about a week for the British to quell the riots, and they did so with an air, land and sea campaign. They sent warships and war planes from across the British Empire and sent troops from other parts of the British Empire. Because one of the reasons the riots were so effective, in a way, you know, were so deadly, especially in kharag, was because there was just no military force in Palestine. At the time, the British did not have a Palestine military force, and it was only after the 1929 riots that they did have troops in Palestine. Until then, they had the Palestine police force, and that police force was mostly Arabs. In Hebron, for example, there were about 40 policemen under the stewardship of one British police chief, and all but one of those policemen were Arabs, and many of them participated in the massacre or stood by outside of Jewish homes and allowed the mobs to enter the homes and carry out their slaughter. And Manya Brachear Pashman: I'm curious. There was a lot of newspaper coverage, but what about the international community's response beyond the British Empire? Yardena Schwartz: So there were actually protests around the world against the massacre in New York. 35,000 people marched through the streets of Manhattan to protest the British failure to protect their Jewish subjects from these riots. Most of the marchers were Jewish, but nevertheless, I mean 35,000 people. We didn't see anything like that after October 7. Of course, we saw the opposite people marching through the streets of New York and cities around the world supporting the mass of October 7. You know, I mentioned this March in New York, but similar protests were held around the world, mostly in Jewish communities. So in Poland, Warsaw and in England, there were protests against the British failure to protect Jews in Palestine from these riots. And the American government was livid with the British and they sent statements put out, statements to the press, criticizing the British inaction, the British failure to protect the Jewish subjects and the American citizens who were in Palestine at the time, there were eight Americans killed in Hebron on August 24 1929. Out of the 67 Jewish men, women and children who were killed, and all of them were unarmed. The Haganah at the time, you know, the underground Jewish Defense Force that would later become the nucleus of the IDF, the Haganah was active then, mostly in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, there were no Haganah members in Hebron. The Hebron Jewish community was very traditional, very religious, and when Haganah came to Hebron two days before the riots erupted, they because they knew that these riots were going to happen. There had been calls from Arab officials to riot, to attack Jewish communities across Palestine. And so the Haganah came to Hebron to warn Jewish leaders of Hebron that they could either come there to protect them or evacuate them to Jerusalem to safety until the riots subsided and the Jewish leaders of Hebron were unanimous in their opposition. They said, No, you know, we're friends with our Arab neighbors. They'll never hurt us. We trust them. If anything happens elsewhere, it won't happen here. And they believed that because, not only because they had such a good relationship with their Arab neighbors and friends, but also because in previous outbursts of violence in other years, like in 1920 1921 when they were much smaller riots and much less deadly riots. When those riots reached other parts of Palestine, they didn't reach Hebron because of those relations and because they weren't fueled by incitement and disinformation, which was what led the riots of 1929 to be so massive and so deadly, and what led them to be embraced by previously peaceful neighbors. Manya Brachear Pashman: How did that disinformation travel in 1929 How did it reach those neighbors in Hebron? Yardena Schwartz: When we talk about disinformation and misinformation today, we think of it as this, you know, modern plague of, you know, the social media era, or, you know our fractured media landscape. But back in 1929 disinformation was rampant, and it also traveled through Arabic newspapers. They were publishing these statements by Arab officials, mostly the Grand Mufti Hajime Husseini, who was the leader of Palestinian Muslims under British rule, he began this rumor that the Jews of Palestine were plotting to conquer Al Aqsa mosque to rebuild their ancient temple. Of course, Al Aqsa is built upon the ruins of the ancient temples. Temple Mount is the holiest place for Jews in the world. And in 1929, Jews were forbidden from accessing the Temple Mount because it was considered, you know, a solely holy Muslim site. But the closest place they could pray was the Western Wall, the Kotel. And Jews who were demanding British protection to pray in peace at the Western Wall without being attacked by Muslims as a result of this disinformation campaign were then painted by the Arabic press as working to conquer the Western Wall, turn it into a synagogue, and then from there, take Al Aqsa Mosque.  So this disinformation traveled from the very highest of Muslim officials. So the imams in mosques across Palestine, specifically in Al Aqsa and in Hebron, were repeating these rumors, these lies about this supposed Jewish plot. Those lies were then being published in flyers that were put in city squares. Jewish officials were warning the British and telling, you know, they should have known and they should have done more to end this campaign of disinformation, not only to achieve peace in this land that they were ruling over, but also because they were responsible for installing hajamina Husseini, the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, into his position they had chosen him for that position, that all powerful position. And so they were responsible, in a way, for all of these lies that he was spreading. And yet they took no responsibility.  And even in the commission that they sent to Palestine from London to investigate the causes of the riots, despite the fact that, you know, if you read these, you know, 400 pages, I don't recommend it. It's a tough reading. But, you know, I did that for this book. And it's so clear from all of these hearings that this disinformation campaign was very obvious, very clear and very clearly to blame for the riots. And yet, because saying so would have made the British responsible for so much death, their conclusions in this commission was that it was Jewish immigration to Palestine and Jewish land purchases at the time that had sparked the riots, and that it was this Jewish demonstration, peaceful demonstration at the Western Wall on to Shabaab in August of 1929 that had sparked these riots.  So there's just, you know, this absolute lack of accountability, not only for the Mufti, who retained his position and became even more powerful and more popular as a leader after these riots, but also for the British and instead, you know, the Jewish victims were blamed for their suffering. At the time, Jews were just 20% of the Palestinian population, which was just 1 million people. Of course, today, Israel is home to more than 10 million people. So you know, clearly there was room for everyone. And the Jews at the time were very peaceful. The Haganah was a very, you know, weak, decentralized force, and after these riots, it became much stronger, and Sephardi Jews and Mizrahi Jews, more traditional Jews who had not joined the Haganah before 1929 had not really embraced Zionism before 1929 now agreed that if Jews were going to be safe in our homeland, then we would need our own army. Manya Brachear Pashman: Can we talk a little bit about the turn toward radicalization and extremism during this time, and what role that has played in the years since? Yardena Schwartz: you know, the Zionist leadership was very adamant that Jews in Palestine should not be carrying out attacks against Arabs in Palestine. You know, it should be really about defending Jews, preventing attacks, but not carrying out retaliatory attacks. But as we've seen throughout the century, of this conflict. You know, extremism begets extremism. And you know, when violence is being used by one side, it is going to be used by the other side as well. And so the rise of a more militant form of Zionism was a direct result of 1929 and this feeling of just helplessness and this feeling of relying on this foreign power, the British, to protect them, and realizing that no foreign power was going to protect the Jews of Palestine and that Jews would have to protect themselves, and the radicalism and the extremism within the Muslim population, particularly the Muslim leadership of Palestine, really just accelerated after the massacre, because they saw that it succeeded. I mean, the British punished the Jewish population of Palestine for the riots by vastly limiting Jewish immigration, vastly limiting Jewish land purchases. Notice, I use the word land purchases because, contrary to a lot of the disinformation we hear. Much today, none of this land was being stolen. It was being purchased by Jews from Muslim land owners. Many of them were absentee landowners. Many of them were from the wealthiest families in Palestine. And many of them were members of, you know, this anti Zionist, pro Mufti circle, who were then telling their own people that Jews are stealing your land and evicting you from your land, when, in fact, it was these wealthy Arab landowners who were selling their land to Jews at exorbitant prices. Manya Brachear Pashman: Did you establish a motive for the Mufti and what were his intentions spreading this disinformation? Yardena Schwartz: Great question. So it was very clear. I mean, he never admitted this, but it was very clear what his motives were, and that was to counter the criticism and accusations of corruption that had dogged him for years, until he began this campaign of propaganda which led much of that criticism and much of those stories of his corruption within the Arabic press and among his Arab rivals to essentially disappear, because now they had a much more threatening enemy, and that enemy was the Jewish community of Palestine, who was plotting to destroy Al Aqsa, conquer Al Aqsa, rebuild their temple, take over Palestine and his campaign worked. You know, after that propaganda campaign became so successful, there were very few people willing to stand up to him and to criticize him, because after 1929 when he became so much more powerful, he began a campaign of assassinations and intimidation and violence used against not only his political rivals and dissidents, but also just Anyone who favored cooperation between Arabs and Jews in Palestine. So there were various mayors of Arab cities who wanted to work together with the Jewish community of those cities or with other Jewish leaders to bring about various economic initiatives, for instance. And some of those mayors were assassinated by the muftis henchmen, or they were just intimidated into silence and into kind of embracing his platform, which was that Palestine is and has always been and should always be, a purely Muslim land, and that there is no place for any kind of Jewish sovereignty or Jewish power in that land.  So, you know, the Mufti, in 1936 he ended up leading a violent rebellion against the British. And the British at that point, had gotten tired of ruling Palestine. They realized it was much more work than they were interested in doing, and they were interested in leaving Palestine, handing over governance to the local population to the Jews and Arabs of Palestine, and they had been interested in figuring out what could be done. Could there be a binational state with equal representation, or representative governance? If Jews are 40% of the population and Arabs are 60% then there could be some kind of governance on those ratios, all of those solutions, including a two state solution, which was presented in 1937 all of those solutions were rejected by the grand mufti, and his platform was embraced by the other Arab officials within Palestine, because if it wasn't, they could face death or violence. And he even rejected the idea of Jews remaining in Palestine under Arab rule. You know when the British said to him, okay, so what will be done with the 400,000 Jews who are in Palestine right now? He said they can't stay. So he didn't only reject the two state solution. He rejected, you know, this bi national, equal utopian society that we hear proposed by so many in pro Palestine movement today. You know, all of these solutions have been on the table for a century and always. They have been rejected by Palestinian leaders, whether it was the Grand Mufti or his apprentice, his young cousin, yas Arafat. Manya Brachear Pashman: Ah, okay, so what happened to Grand Mufti Husseini? Did he stick around? So The Mufti was eventually, finally wanted for arrest by the British after his rebellion claimed the life of a British official. Until then, it had only claimed the lives of Jews and Arabs, but once a British official was killed, then the British had decided that they'd had enough of the Mufti, and they ordered his arrest. He fled Palestine. He ended up in Iraq, where he was involved in riots there the far hood in which many Jews were massacred, perhaps hundreds, if not over 1000 Jews were slaughtered in Baghdad, which was at the time home to about. 100,000 Jews. He then fled Iraq and ended up in Berlin, where he lived from 1941 to 1945 in a Nazi financed mansion, and he led the Arab branch of Joseph Goebbels Ministry of Propaganda. He was the Nazi's leading voice in the Arab world, he spread Nazi propaganda throughout the Muslim world and recruited 10s of 1000s of Muslims to fight for the Nazis, including in the Waffen SS and when the war ended, when world war two ended, and the UN wanted him for Nazi war crimes, he was wanted for Nazi war crimes, placed on the UN's list of Nazi war criminals. Once again, he fled, first to France, then to Cairo, eventually settling in Beirut, where he continued to lead his people's jihad against the Jews of Palestine. So when, in 1947, when the UN voted to partition British Mandate Palestine into an Arab state and a Jewish state so that the British could finally leave Palestine. He declared jihad, and he rejected the Partition Plan, along with every other Arab state which also rejected it. Of course, the Jews of Palestine embraced it, celebrated it, and the very next day after the UN vote, riots erupted throughout Palestine, and he helped. He was kind of pulling the strings of that Jihad taking place in Palestine. And in fact, 1000 Muslim men who he had recruited for the Waffen. SS joined that holy war in Palestine. The Mufti helped create the army of the holy war. Yasser Arafat, who was also in Beirut at the time, also assisted the army of the holy war. He actually fought in the war that began in 1947 alongside the Muslim Brotherhood. So, you know the legacy that the Mufti had? You know, it doesn't end there. It continued to his dying day in 1974 and Arafat took over his mantle as the leader of the Palestinian people. And you know, we see how the disinformation and incitement and rejection of Jewish sovereignty in any part of the ancient land of Israel has continued to be a prominent force in Palestinian politics no matter who was in charge. You know, the Fatah, Mahmoud, Abbas and Hamas, of course, perpetuate the same lies about Al Aqsa. They perpetuate the same denial of a Jewish right to live in peace in our homeland, deny the history of Jewish presence in Israel. So, you know, it's really astounding to me how little is known about the Grand Mufti and how little is known about his impact on this conflict, and particularly in the very beginnings, the ground zero of this conflict in 1929 Manya Brachear Pashman: It's so interesting. We talk so much about Hitler, right? And his antisemitism, but we don't talk about Husseini. Yardena Schwartz: Yeah, and they were good friends. I mean, they met in 1941 shortly after the Mufti arrived, he had a private chauffeur. He was lavishly paid by the Nazis, and he was good friends with Himmler. He toured concentration camps. He knew very well about the final solution. Hitler himself considered the Mufti an honorary Aryan. I mean, the Mufti had blue eyes, fair skin, light hair. Hitler believed that Husseini had Roman blood, and he saw him as someone who could lead the Nazi forces once they arrived in the Middle East. He saw him as, you know, a great ally of the Nazis. He didn't just participate in the Nazis quest to eradicate the Jewish population of Europe and eventually arrive in Palestine, but he also the Mufti worked to convince various European leaders not to allow Jewish refugees from fleeing Europe and not allowing them to come to Palestine. He told them, send them to Poland, and he knew very well what was happening in Poland. Manya Brachear Pashman: So I want to go back to this family in Tennessee, the genesis of this story, and I'm curious. David Schoenberg's niece said that at one point in the book, she said they're Southern, so they sweep ugly under the rug in the south. And so they just didn't talk about that. And when I read that, I thought, actually, that's kind of a Jewish approach, not a southern approach, except we wouldn't say we sweep things under the rug. We move on, right? We treasure our resilience, and we move on from that pain and we build anew. But is moving on really in the Jewish community's best interest? Is that how we end up forgetting and letting this history and this very important history fade?. Yardena Schwartz: Yeah, absolutely. You know, I think it is possible to do both. It is possible to take great pride in our resilience and in our strength and our ability to experience so much devastation and suffering, and yet every time emerge stronger.  I mean, think about the Holocaust. First of all, for many years, we did sweep that under the rug. Survivors were discouraged from speaking about what they went through. They were seen as, you know, especially in Israel, they were seen as, you know, people who went like sheep to the slaughter. It wasn't something to talk about. It was something to move on from. And yet now we are able to hold both in both hands. You know. We're able to honor and commemorate the memory and speak about the atrocities that millions of Jews suffered during the Holocaust, while also celebrating where we went after the Holocaust. I mean, three years after the Holocaust, Israel was born. You know, that's just, on its own, you know, a remarkable symbol of our resilience and our strength as a people. But I think the way we commemorate the Holocaust is a really great example of how we do both how we honor the memory and use that as a lesson so that it never happens again.  And yet, I think that when it comes to the conflict and the various forces that have led us to where we are today, there is this tendency to kind of try to move on and not really speak about how we got here. And it's really a shame, because I think that this is the only way we'll ever find a way out of this tragic cycle of violence, is if we learn how we got here, the forces that continue to drive this conflict after a century, and you know, the people who brought us here. Not only the Grand Mufti, but also, you know, the leaders today who are very much capitalizing on fear and religion, exploiting religion for their own, their own interests, and utilizing disinformation to remain in power. And I think that, you know, we can't afford not to speak about these things and not to know about our own history. It's really telling that, you know, even in Jewish communities, where people know so much about Israel and about this conflict, there is just a complete lack of knowledge of, you know, the very bedrock of this conflict. And I think without that knowledge, we'll never get out of this mess. Manya Brachear Pashman: Yardena, thank you so much. This is such a wonderful book, and congratulations on writing it.  Yardena Schwartz: Thank you so much.  Manya Brachear Pashman: If you missed last week's episode, be sure to tune in for my conversation with Dr Laura Shaw Frank, Director of AJC Center for Education Advocacy. We discussed the delicate balance between combating antisemitism, safeguarding free speech, and ensuring campuses remain safe for all students.  Thank you for listening. This episode is brought to you by AJC. Our producer is Atara Lakritz. Our sound engineer is TK Broderick. You can subscribe to People of the Pod on Apple podcasts, Spotify or Google podcasts, or learn more at ajc.org/PeopleofthePod. The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC. We'd love to hear your views and opinions or your questions. You can reach us at PeopleofthePod@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed this episode, please be sure to tell your friends. Tag us on social media with hashtag People of the Pod and hop on to Apple podcasts to rate us and write a review to help more listeners find us. Tune in next week for another episode of People of the Pod.

“It's quite clear to me that he was trying to recreate the hillside of Haifa with the gardens... It comes from somebody being ripped out from their home.” Syrian Jewish Playwright Oren Safdie, son of world-renowned architect Moshe Safdie, who designed Habitat 67 along with much of modern Jerusalem, knows loss, regret, and longing. Oren and his father explore their Syrian heritage and their connection to the Jewish state that has developed since Moshe's father left Aleppo, Syria and moved, in the mid-20th century, to what is modern-day Israel. Oren also knows that being Jewish is about stepping up. Describing his frustrations with modern anti-Israel sentiments and protests that harken back to 1943, Oren is passionately combating anti-Israel propaganda in theater and academia.  Abraham Marcus, Associate Professor Emeritus at University of Texas at Austin, joins the conversation with historical insights into Jewish life in Syria dating back to Roman times. —- Show notes: Sign up to receive podcast updates here. Learn more about the series here. Song credits:  Al Fadimem, Bir Demet Yasemen, Fidayda; all by Turku, Nomads of the Silk Road Aleppo Bakkashah  Pond5:  “Desert Caravans”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Tiemur Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Oud Nation”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Haygaz Yossoulkanian (BMI), IPI#1001905418 “Arabic (Middle Eastern Music)”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Andrei Skliarov, Item ID #152407112 “Fields Of Elysium”; Publisher: Mysterylab Music; Composer: Mott Jordan; ID#79549862 “Middle Eastern Dawn”: Publisher: Victor Romanov, Composer: Victor Romanov; Item ID #202256497 “Ney Flute Melody 01”: Publisher: Ramazan Yuksel; Composer: Ramazan Yuksel; P.R.O. Track: BMI 00712367557 “Uruk”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Marcus Bressler; Item ID: 45886699 “Suspense Middle East” Publisher: Victor Romanov, Composer: Victor Romanov; Item ID: 196056047 ___ Episode Transcript: OREN SAFDIE:  I've sort of wanted to shine a light on North American Jews being hypercritical of Israel. Because I've spent a lot of time in Israel. And I know what it is. It's not a simple thing. And I think it's very easy for Americans in the comfort of their little brownstones in Brooklyn, and houses in Cambridge to criticize, but these people that live in Israel are really standing the line for them. MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: The world has overlooked an important episode in modern history: the 800,000 Jews who left or were driven from their homes in the Middle East and North Africa in the mid-20th century. Welcome to the second season of The Forgotten Exodus, brought to you by American Jewish Committee. This series explores that pivotal moment in history and the little-known Jewish heritage of Iran and Arab nations. As Jews around the world confront violent antisemitism and Israelis face daily attacks by terrorists on multiple fronts, our second season explores how Jews have lived throughout the region for generations despite hardship, hostility, and hatred, then sought safety and new possibilities in their ancestral homeland. I'm your host, Manya Brachear Pashman. Join us as we explore untold family histories and personal stories of courage, perseverance, and resilience from this transformative and tumultuous period of history for the Jewish people and the Middle East.  The world has ignored these voices. We will not.  This is The Forgotten Exodus. Today's episode: leaving Aleppo. MANYA: Playwright and screenwriter Oren Safdie has had just about enough of the anti-Israel sentiments on stage and screen. And what irks him the most is when it comes from Jewish artists and celebrities who have never spent time in the Middle East's one and only democracy. Remember film director Jonathan Glazer's speech at the 2024 Academy Awards? JONATHAN GLAZER: Right now, we stand here as men who refute their Jewishness and the Holocaust being hijacked by an occupation which has led to conflict for so many innocent people. Whether the victims of October the … [APPLAUSE] MANYA: Yeah, Oren didn't much appreciate his own Jewishness being hijacked in that moment. Drawing a moral equivalence between the Nazi regime and Israel never really sits well with him. OREN: I do feel like they're very selective in their criticism of Israel. You know, it's very easy to say, ‘Oh, well, they didn't do that. They don't do this.' But it's a complicated situation. And to simplify it, is just to me beyond, especially if you're not somebody who has spent a lot of time in Israel. MANYA: Oren Safdie has penned more than two dozen scripts for stages and screens around the world. His latest film, Lunch Hour, starring Alan Cumming, is filming in Minnesota.  Meanwhile, The Man Who Saved the Internet with A Sunflower, another script he co-wrote, is on the festival circuit. And his latest play Survival of the Unfit, made its North American debut in the Berkshires this summer, is headed to Broadway. And by the way, since an early age, Oren Safdie has spent quite a bit of time in Israel. His father Moshe Safdie is the legendary architect behind much of modern Jerusalem, Ben-Gurion International Airport, and the Yad Vashem Holocaust History Museum.  Oren's grandfather, Leon, emigrated from Syria. OREN: I'm sort of a synthesis of the two main parts that established Israel because my mother came from Poland, escaped the Holocaust. And my father's family came from Syria. So, I'm a half breed.  I've never been asked about my Sephardic side, even though that was really the dominant side that I grew up with. Because my mother's family was quite small. I grew up in Montreal, it was much more in the Syrian tradition for holidays, food, everything like that. My grandfather was from Aleppo, Syria, and my grandmother was from Manchester, England, but originally from Aleppo. Her family came to Manchester, but two generations before, had been from Aleppo. So, they're both Halabi Jews.  MANYA: Halabi refers to a diverse group of Jews from Aleppo, one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world that has gone by several names. The oldest? Haleb.  Halabi Jews include Mizrahi Jews -- the name for Jews who call the Middle East or North Africa home; and Sephardi Jews, who fled to the region after being expelled from Spain in the 15th Century.  Jews are believed to have been in what is now Syria since the time of King David and certainly since early Roman times. ABRAHAM MARCUS: It's a community that starts, as far as we can record, in the Greco-Roman period. And we see the arrival of Islam. So the Jews were really the indigenous people when Arabs arrived. MANYA: Abraham Marcus, born to parents from Aleppo, is an internationally renowned authority on the city. He served as director of the Center for Middle Eastern Studies at the University of Texas at Austin. For the past 16 years, he has been working on a book about the history of Aleppo's Jews that goes well beyond what has been previously published. As part of his research, he examined thousands of documents from the Syrian national archive and the Ottoman archive in Istanbul. He also did extensive fieldwork on the ground in Aleppo, documenting the synagogues, cemeteries, residential districts, and workplaces.  MARCUS: One of the synagogues, the famous ancient synagogue of Aleppo, which dates to the 5th Century, meaning it predates the arrival of Arabs. It is a remarkable structure. Unfortunately, what is left of it now is really a skeleton. MANYA: Abraham is referring to the Great Synagogue or Central Synagogue of Aleppo, which functioned as the main house of worship for the Syrian Jewish community for more than 1,600 years. For 600 of those years, its catacombs safeguarded a medieval manuscript believed to be the oldest, most complete, most accurate text of the Hebrew Bible, known as the Aleppo Codex. The codex was used by Maimonides as a reference for his magnum opus, the Mishneh Torah, or Jewish religious legal code. In the 7th Century, Aleppo was conquered by Arab Muslims and a Great Mosque was built. For the next four centuries, the Byzantine Empire, Crusaders, and various Muslim rulers fought to gain control of Aleppo and the surrounding region. A savage Mongol invasion, a bout of the Black Death and another invasion took its toll on the city, and its Jews.  For most of this time, Muslim rulers treated them as dhimmis, or second-class citizens.  MARCUS: There were restrictions on dress, which were renewed time and again. They could not carry arms. They could not ride horses. MANYA: After half of Spain's Jews converted to Christianity following the pogroms of 1391, the Catholic monarchs issued the Alhambra Decree of 1492 – an edict that expelled any remaining Jews from the Iberian Peninsula to ensure their descendants didn't revert back to Judaism.  As Jews fled, many made their way to parts of the Ottoman Empire. In 1516, Aleppo became part of that empire and emerged as a strategic trading post at the end of the Silk Road, between the Mediterranean Sea and Mesopotamia, or modern-day Iraq. As was the case in other parts of the Ottoman Empire, Jews lived relatively comfortably, serving as merchants and tax collectors.  MARCUS: The policy of the Ottoman Empire was to essentially welcome the Sephardic Jews. The Sultan at the time is reputed to have said, ‘I don't understand the King of Spain. But if he's thinking at all, giving up all this human capital, essentially, we can take it.'  Many of the successful Jews in Aleppo and Damascus–in business, as leaders, as rabbis–were Sephardic Jews. They revived these communities, they brought new blood and new energy to them, a new wealth. MANYA: This was not always the case throughout Ottoman Syria as persecution and pogroms erupted at times.  By the mid-19th Century, Aleppo's Jewish population was slightly smaller than that of Baghdad, by about 2,000. In 1869, the opening of the Suez Canal shifted trade away from the route through Syria. Aleppo lost much of its commercial edge, motivating many Jews to seek opportunity elsewhere. MARCUS: The story of Aleppo is one of a society gradually hemorrhaging, losing people. They went to Beirut, which was a rising star. And Egypt became very attractive. So they went to Alexandria and Cairo. And many of the rabbis from the 1880s began to move to Jerusalem where there were yeshivot that were being set up. And in effect, over the next several decades, essentially the spiritual center of Aleppo's Jews was Jerusalem and no longer Aleppo.  MANYA: Another turning point for Aleppo came in World War I when the Ottoman Empire abandoned its neutral position and sided with the Central Powers–including Bulgaria, Austria-Hungary and Germany.  Many wealthy Jews had acquired foreign nationalities from countries that were not allies. Now considered enemy citizens, they were deported and never came back. In addition, Jews and Christians up to that point could pay a special tax to avoid serving in the army. That privilege ended in 1909. MARCUS: Because of the Balkan Wars, there was a sense that the empire is going to collapse if they don't essentially raise a large force to defend it. And there was a kind of flight that really decimated the community by 1918, when the war ended. MANYA: Besides those two wartime exceptions, Abraham says the departure of Jews from Syria was almost always motivated by the promise of better opportunities. In fact, opportunity might have been what drew the Safdie family to and from Aleppo. MANYA: Originally from Safed, as their name suggests, the Safdie family arrived in Aleppo sometime during the 16th or 17th centuries. By that time, the Jewish community in Safed, one of the Four Holy Cities in Judaism located in modern-day Israel, had transformed it into a lucrative textile center. So lucrative that the sultan of the ruling Ottoman Empire ordered the forced deportation of 1,000 Jewish families to Cyprus to boost that island's economy.  It's not clear if those deportations or the decline that followed pushed the Safdie family north to Aleppo. Most of them stayed for roughly three centuries–through World War One and France's brief rule during the Interwar period. But in 1936, amid the Great Depression, which affected Syria as well, Leon Safdie, the ninth of ten children born to textile merchants, moved to Haifa and set up his own trading business. Importing textiles, woolens, and cottons from England and fabrics from Japan and India.  A year later, he met his wife Rachel who had sailed from Manchester to visit her sister in Jerusalem. She spoke English and a little French. He spoke Arabic and French. They married a month later. OREN: My grandfather lived in Haifa, he was a merchant like many Syrian Jews were. He imported textiles. He freely went between the different countries, you know, there weren't really so many borders. A lot of his people he worked with were Arab, Druze, Christian, Muslim. Before independence, even though there was obviously some tension, being somebody who is a Syrian Jew, who spoke Arabic, who spoke French, he was sort of just one of the region. MANYA: Moshe Safdie was born in 1938. He says the onset of the Second World War created his earliest memories – hosting Australian soldiers in their home for Shabbat and making nightly trips into air raid shelters. Every summer, the family vacationed in the mountain resorts of Lebanon to visit aunts and uncles that had moved from Aleppo to Beirut. Their last visit to Lebanon in the summer of 1947 culminated with all of the aunts, uncles, and cousins piling into three Chrysler limousines and caravanning from Beirut to Aleppo to visit their grandmother and matriarch, Symbol. MOSHE: I remember sort of the fabric of the city. I have vague memories of the Citadel of Aleppo, because it was an imposing structure. I remember her – a very fragile woman, just vaguely. MANYA: While most of Moshe's memories of Aleppo are vague, one memory in particular is quite vivid. At that time, the United Nations General Assembly was debating the partition plan that would divide what was then the British Mandate of Palestine between Jews and Arabs. Tensions ran high throughout the region. When Moshe's uncles noticed Moshe wearing his school uniform on the streets of Aleppo, they panicked.  MOSHE: They were terrified. We were walking in the street, and we had khaki shirts and khaki pants. And it had stitched on it, as required in our school, the school badge, and it said, ‘Thou shalt be humble' in Hebrew. And they saw that, or at least they noticed we had that, and they said: ‘No, this is very dangerous!' and they ripped it off.' MANYA: It would be the first and last time Moshe Safdie visited Aleppo. On the 29th of November, the UN voted on a resolution to divide Palestine into two states, one Arab and one Jewish. The news arrived in Aleppo the following morning. MARCUS: This was New York time, in the evening, when the decision was made. So already, people started planning demonstrations for the next day, in support of the Palestinians. And that next day began with what was a peaceful demonstration of students, and then all kinds of people joined in and before long it became an attack on Jewish property. The synagogues were set ablaze. Many Jewish homes were burned, businesses were looted. And so the day ended with the Jews really in a state of fright.  MANYA: The mob looted the Jewish quarter and burned the Great Synagogue, scattering and desecrating the pages of the Aleppo Codex. The caretaker of the synagogue and his son later returned to the ashes to salvage as much as they could. But most of the community's leadership took a train to Beirut and never looked back.  Of course, as previously mentioned, Aleppo had already witnessed a steep decline in its Jewish population. The numbers vary widely, depending on the source, but by 1947, on the eve of the Jewish exodus from Syria, Iraq, and other Arab countries, Aleppo had anywhere between 6,000 and 15,000 Jews, whereas Baghdad had between 75 and 90,000. MARCUS: More than half the population left within a month. The community after that, in the next two, three weeks, was in a situation in which some people decided that was the end.  They took possessions that they could, got on buses and left for Beirut. That was the safe destination to go to. And there was traffic between the two areas.  Some people decided to stay. I mean, they had business, they had interest, they had property that they didn't want to leave. You can imagine the kind of dilemmas face people suddenly, the world has changed, and what do I do? Which part of the fork do I go?  MANYA: Those who left effectively forfeited their property to the Syrian government. To this day, the only way to reclaim that property and be allowed to sell it is to return and become Syrian citizens. Those who stayed were trapped. Decimated and demoralized, Aleppo's Jews came under severe travel restrictions, unable to travel more than four kilometers from their homes without permission from the government, which tracked their comings and goings. MARCUS: The view was that if they leave, they'll end up in what's called the Zionist entity and provide the soldiers and aid to the enemy. So the idea was to keep them in.  So there's a reality there of a community that is now stuck in place. Unable to emigrate. That remained in place until 1970, when things began to relax. It was made possible for you to leave temporarily for a visit. But you have to leave a very large sum as a deposit. The other option was essentially to hire some smugglers to take you to the Turkish or the Lebanese border, and basically deliver you to another country where Jews had already networked. The Mossad had people who helped basically transfer them to Israel. But that was very risky. If you were caught, it's prison time and torture.  Over the next 45 years, many of the young left gradually, and many of them left without the parents even knowing. They will say ‘I'm going to the cinema and I'll come back'. MANYA: On May 14, 1948, Israel declared independence. But the socialist politics of the new Jewish state did not sit well with Leon Safdie who much preferred private enterprise. He also felt singled out, as did many Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews in Israel at the time.  OREN: In some ways, it almost created some tension for him on several fronts, right? First of all, between him and his clients, who he had been doing business with in the Arab world, for many years. All of a sudden, those relationships are called into question. And as my grandfather was an importer of textiles, it was considered a luxury good. And when you're in wartime, there were rations.  The high tariffs really killed my grandfather's business. So, he wanted to stay in Israel. He helped with the war effort. He really loved the country and he knew the people, but really for three years, he sat idle and just did not have work. He was a man that really needed to work, had a lot of pride. MANYA: In 1953, Leon and Rachel sought opportunity once again – this time in Montreal – a move Moshe Safdie would forever resent. When in 1959 he married Oren's mother Nina, an Israeli expat who was trying to return to Israel herself, they both resolved to return to the Jewish state. Life and phenomenal success intervened. While studying architecture at McGill University, Moshe designed a modern urban apartment building [Habitat 67] that incorporated garden terraces and multiple stories. It was built and unveiled during the 1967 World's Fair in Montreal, and Moshe's career took off.  OREN: It's quite clear to me that he was trying to recreate the hillside of Haifa with the gardens. And it's something that has sort of preoccupied him for his whole career. It comes from somebody being ripped out from their home. Those kinds of things I think stay with you. MANYA: Eventually, in 1970, Moshe opened a branch of his architecture firm in Jerusalem and established a second home there. Oren recalls visiting every summer – often with his grandfather Leon.   OREN: And I remember going with him when he'd come to Israel when I was there, because we used to go pretty much every summer. He would love to go down to Jericho. And we'd sit at the restaurants. I mean, there was a period of time, you know, when it was sort of accepted that Jews could travel to the West Bank, to Ramallah and everything. And he loved to just speak with the merchants and everything, he loved that. He felt so at home in that setting. It was not dangerous, as it is today, obviously. I think everyone back then thought it was a temporary situation. And obviously, the longer it goes, and the more things happen, it feels more permanent. And of course, that's where we are today. But that time, in my head, sort of just is a confirmation that Jews and Arabs have a lot more in common and can get along … if the situation was different. MANYA: As the son of an Israeli citizen, Oren is considered an Israeli citizen too. But he concedes that he is not fully Israeli. That requires more sacrifice. In 1982, at the age of 17, he signed up for Chetz V'Keshet, at that time a 10-week program run in conjunction with the Israel Defense Forces for American and Canadian teens and designed to foster a connection to Israel. The program took place during the First Lebanon War, Israel's operation to remove terrorists from southern Lebanon, where they had been launching attacks against Israeli civilians. OREN: So this was a mix of basic training, where we trained with artillery and things and did a lot of war games. And from there, you know, their hope was that you would join the military for three years. And I did not continue.  I guess there's a part of me that regrets that. Even though I'm an Israeli citizen, I can't say I'm Israeli in the way that Israelis are. If the older me would look back, then I would say, ‘If you really want to be connected to Israel, the military is really the only way. I'd say at that young age, I didn't understand that the larger picture of what being Jewish, what being Israeli is, and it's about stepping up. MANYA: Now in his early 50s, Oren tries to step up by confronting the anti-Israel propaganda that's become commonplace in both of his professional worlds: theater and academia. In addition to writing his own scripts and screenplays, he has taught college level playwriting and screenwriting. He knows all too often students fall prey to misinformation and consider anything they see on social media or hear from their friends as an authoritative source.  A few years ago, Oren assigned his students the task of writing a script based on real-life experience and research. One of the students drafted a script about bloodthirsty Israelis killing Palestinian children. When Oren asked why he chose that topic and where he got his facts, the student cited his roommate.  Oren didn't discourage him from pitching the script to his classmates, but warned him to come prepared to defend it with facts. The student turned in a script on an entirely different topic. OREN: You know, there were a lot of plays that came up in the past 10 years that were anti-Israel. You'd be very hard-pressed to find me one that's positive about Israel. No one's doing them. MANYA: Two of his scripts have come close. In 2017, he staged a play at the St. James Theatre in Old Montreal titled Mr. Goldberg Goes to Tel Aviv– a farce about a gay Jewish author who arrives in Tel Aviv to deliver a blistering attack on the Israeli government to the country's left-leaning literati.  But before he even leaves his hotel room, he is kidnapped by a terrorist. Investors lined up to bring it to the silver screen and Alan Cumming signed on to play Mr. Goldberg. But in May 2021, Hamas terrorists launched rockets at Israeli civilians, igniting an 11-day war. The conflict led to a major spike in antisemitism globally.  OREN: The money people panicked and said, ‘We can't put up a comedy about the Middle East within this environment. Somebody is going to protest and shut us down,' and they cut out. MANYA: Two years later, an Israeli investor expressed interest in giving the movie a second chance. Then on October 7 [2023], Hamas launched a surprise attack on 20 Israeli communities -- the deadliest attack on the Jewish people since the Holocaust. More than 1,200 Israelis have been killed, thousands of rockets have been fired on Israel, and more than 100 hostages are still in captivity. OREN: Mr. Goldberg Goes to Tel Aviv collapsed after October 7th. I don't think anybody would have the appetite for a comedy about a Hamas assassin taking a left-wing Jew hostage in a hotel room. MANYA: Another play titled “Boycott This” was inspired by Oren's visit to a coffee shop in Oaxaca, Mexico in 2011. The walls of the cafe were plastered with posters urging boycotts of Israel and accusing it of blood libel. Oren and his daughter created their own posters and stood outside the coffee shop calling on customers to boycott the cafe instead. But the father and daughter's impromptu protest is just one of three storylines in the play, including one about the 1943 boycott of Jews in Poland–where his mother spent part of her childhood in hiding during the Holocaust.  The third storyline takes place in a post-apocalyptic world where Iran has succeeded in wiping Israel off the map. A Jewish woman has been forced to become one of the enemy's wives – a threat some hostages taken on October 7 have reported hearing from their captors.  OREN: It was really my attempt to try and show how the boycotts of Israel today, in light of, you know, 1943, were really not different.  MANYA:  Even now, Oren has not been able to convince a college or theater to stage “Boycott This,” including the Jewish museum in Los Angeles that hosted his daughter's bat mitzvah on October 7, 2023.    OREN: I've sort of wanted to shine a light on North American Jews being hypercritical of Israel, which I guess ties into BDS. Because I've spent a lot of time in Israel. And I know what it is. It's not a simple thing. And I think it's very easy for Americans in the comfort of their little brownstones in Brooklyn, and houses in Cambridge to criticize, but these people that live in Israel are really standing the line for them. MANYA: When Presidents George Bush and Bill Clinton finally secured a legal way for Syrian Jews to leave between 1992 and 1994, most did. The last Jews of Aleppo were evacuated from the city in October 2016. MARCUS: They took all the siddurim and everything, put them in boxes. It was just essentially closing shop for good. They knew they're not coming back. MANYA: The food, liturgy, music, the traditions of hospitality and social welfare endure, but far from the world of which it was part. Walk into any synagogue in the Aleppo tradition after sundown on Shabbat and be treated to a concert until dawn – a custom called baqashot. MANYA: Before Oren's grandmother Rachel passed away, his cousin Rebecca did a piece for Canadian Broadcast News featuring their 95-year-old grandmother in the kitchen.  RACHEL SAFDIE: When we were children, we used to love all these dishes. My mother used to make them all the time and it's very, very tasty. Anything made, Middle East food, is very tasty. OREN: It's 10 minutes for me to see my grandmother again, in video, cooking the mehshi kusa, which is sort of the stuffed eggplant with the apricots and the meat. And there's really a great moment in it, because they're doing it together and they put it in the oven, and at the end of this 10-minute movie, they all come out of the oven, and like they're looking at it and they're tasting, and my grandmother points … RACHEL: I know which ones you did. You did this one.  CBN INTERVIEWER: How do you know?  RACHEL: I know. And this recipe has been handed down from generation to generation. OREN: It's so much like my grandmother because she's sort of a perfectionist, but she did everything without measuring. It was all by feel. The kibbeh, beans and lamb and potatoes and chicken but done in a different way than the Ashkenaz. I don't know how to sort of describe it.  The ka'ake, which were like these little pretzels that are, I'd say they have a taste of cumin in them. MARCUS: Stuffed aubergine, stuffed zucchini, tomatoes, with rice, pine nuts and ground beef and so forth. Meatballs with sour cherries during the cherry season. MANYA: Oren would one day like to see where his ancestors lived. But according to Abraham, few Aleppo Jews share that desire. After the Civil War and Siege of Aleppo in 2012 there's little left to see. And even when there was, Aleppo's Jews tended to make a clean break. MARCUS: People did not go back to visit, the second and third generations did not go back. So you see, for example, here Irish people of Irish origin in the United States, they still have families there. And they go, and they take the kids to see what Ireland is like. Italians, they do the same, because they have a kind of sense, this is our origin.  And with Aleppo, there wasn't. This is a really unusual situation in terms of migrations of people not going back to the place. And I think that probably will continue that way. MANYA: Syrian Jews are just one of the many Jewish communities who, in the last century, left Arab countries to forge new lives for themselves and future generations.  Join us next week as we share another untold story of The Forgotten Exodus. Many thanks to Oren and Moshe for sharing their story. You can read more in Moshe's memoir If Walls Could Speak: My Life in Architecture. Too many times during my reporting, I encountered children and grandchildren who didn't have the answers to my questions because they'd never asked. That's why one of the goals of this project is to encourage you to ask those questions. Find your stories. Atara Lakritz is our producer. T.K. Broderick is our sound engineer. Special thanks to Jon Schweitzer, Nicole Mazur, Sean Savage, and Madeleine Stern, and so many of our colleagues, too many to name really, for making this series possible.  You can subscribe to The Forgotten Exodus on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts, and you can learn more at AJC.org/theforgottenexodus.  The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC.  You can reach us at theforgottenexodus@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed this episode, please be sure to spread the word, and hop onto Apple Podcasts or Spotify to rate us and write a review to help more listeners find us.

Listen to the premiere episode of the second season of The Forgotten Exodus, the multi-award-winning, chart-topping, and first-ever narrative podcast series to focus exclusively on Mizrahi and Sephardic Jews. This week's episode focuses on Jews from Tunisia. If you like what you hear, subscribe before the next episode drops on September 3. “In the Israeli DNA and the Jewish DNA, we have to fight to be who we are. In every generation, empires and big forces tried to erase us . . . I know what it is to be rejected for several parts of my identity... I'm fighting for my ancestors, but I'm also fighting for our future generation.”  Hen Mazzig, a writer, digital creator, and founder of the Tel Aviv Institute, shares his powerful journey as a proud Israeli, LGBTQ+, and Mizrahi Jew, in the premiere episode of the second season of the award-winning podcast, The Forgotten Exodus. Hen delves into his family's deep roots in Tunisia, their harrowing experiences during the Nazi occupation, and their eventual escape to Israel. Discover the rich history of Tunisia's ancient Amazigh Jewish community, the impact of French colonial and Arab nationalist movements on Jews in North Africa, and the cultural identity that Hen passionately preserves today. Joining the conversation is historian Lucette Valensi, an expert on Tunisian Jewish culture, who provides scholarly insights into the longstanding presence of Jews in Tunisia, from antiquity to their exodus in the mid-20th century. ___ Show notes: Sign up to receive podcast updates here. Learn more about the series here. Song credits:  "Penceresi Yola Karsi" -- by Turku, Nomads of the Silk Road Pond5:  “Desert Caravans”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Tiemur Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Sentimental Oud Middle Eastern”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Sotirios Bakas (BMI), IPI#797324989. “Meditative Middle Eastern Flute”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Danielyan Ashot Makichevich (BMI), IPI Name #00855552512, United States BMI “Tunisia Eastern”: Publisher: Edi Surya Nurrohim, Composer: Edi Surya Nurrohim, Item ID#155836469. “At The Rabbi's Table”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Fazio Giulio (IPI/CAE# 00198377019). “Fields Of Elysium”; Publisher: Mysterylab Music; Composer: Mott Jordan; ID#79549862  “Frontiers”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Pete Checkley (BMI), IPI#380407375 “Hatikvah (National Anthem Of Israel)”; Composer: Eli Sibony; ID#122561081 “Tunisian Pot Dance (Short)”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: kesokid, ID #97451515 “Middle East Ident”; Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Alpha (ASCAP); Composer: Alon Marcus (ACUM), IPI#776550702 “Adventures in the East”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI) Composer: Petar Milinkovic (BMI), IPI#00738313833. ___ Episode Transcript: HEN MAZZIG: They took whatever they had left and they got on a boat. And my grandmother told me this story before she passed away on how they were on this boat coming to Israel.  And they were so happy, and they were crying because they felt that finally after generations upon generations of oppression they are going to come to a place where they are going to be protected, and that she was coming home. MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: The world has overlooked an important episode in modern history: the 800,000 Jews who left or were driven from their homes in the Middle East and North Africa in the mid-20th century. Welcome to the second season of The Forgotten Exodus, brought to you by American Jewish Committee. This series explores that pivotal moment in history and the little-known Jewish heritage of Iran and Arab nations. As Jews around the world confront violent antisemitism and Israelis face daily attacks by terrorists on multiple fronts, our second season explores how Jews have lived throughout the region for generations–despite hardship, hostility, and hatred–then sought safety and new possibilities in their ancestral homeland. I'm your host, Manya Brachear Pashman. Join us as we explore untold family histories and personal stories of courage, perseverance, and resilience from this transformative and tumultuous period of history for the Jewish people and the Middle East.  The world has ignored these voices. We will not. This is The Forgotten Exodus.  Today's episode: leaving Tunisia. __ [Tel Aviv Pride video] MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: Every June, Hen Mazzig, who splits his time between London and Tel Aviv, heads to Israel to show his Pride. His Israeli pride. His LGBTQ+ pride. And his Mizrahi Jewish pride. For that one week, all of those identities coalesce.  And while other cities around the world have transformed Pride into a June version of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, Israel is home to one of the few vibrant LGBTQ communities in the Middle East. Tel Aviv keeps it real. HEN: For me, Pride in Israel, in Tel Aviv, it still has this element of fighting for something. And that it's important for all of us to show up and to come out to the Pride Parade because if we're not going to be there, there's some people with agendas to erase us and we can't let them do it. MANYA: This year, the Tel Aviv Pride rally was a more somber affair as participants demanded freedom for the more than 100 hostages still held in Gaza since October 7th.  On that day, Hamas terrorists bent on erasing Jews from the Middle East went on a murderous rampage, killing more than 1,200, kidnapping 250 others, and unleashing what has become a 7-front war on Israel. HEN: In the Israeli DNA and the Jewish DNA we have to fight to be who we are. In every generation, empires and big forces tried to erase us, and we had to fight. And the LGBTQ+ community also knows very well how hard it is. I know what it is to be rejected for several parts of my identity. And I don't want anyone to go through that. I don't want my children to go through that. I'm fighting for my ancestors, but I'm also fighting for our future generation. MANYA: Hen Mazzig is an international speaker, writer, and digital influencer. In 2022, he founded the Tel Aviv Institute, a social media laboratory that tackles antisemitism online. He's also a second-generation Israeli, whose maternal grandparents fled Iraq, while his father's parents fled Tunisia – roots that echo in the family name: Mazzig. HEN: The last name Mazzig never made sense, because in Israel a lot of the last names have meaning in Hebrew.  So I remember one of my teachers in school was saying that Mazzig sounds like mozeg, which means pouring in Hebrew. Maybe your ancestors were running a bar or something? Clearly, this teacher did not have knowledge of the Amazigh people. Which, later on I learned, several of those tribes, those Amazigh tribes, were Jewish or practiced Judaism, and that there was 5,000 Jews that came from Tunisia that were holding both identities of being Jewish and Amazigh.  And today, they have last names like Mazzig, and Amzaleg, Mizzoug. There's several of those last names in Israel today. And they are the descendants of those Jewish communities that have lived in the Atlas Mountains. MANYA: The Atlas Mountains. A 1,500-mile chain of magnificent peaks and treacherous terrain that stretch across Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia, separating the Sahara from the Mediterranean and Atlantic coastline.  It's where the nomadic Amazigh have called home for thousands of years. The Amazigh trace their origins to at least 2,000 BCE  in western North Africa. They speak the language of Tamazight and rely on cattle and agriculture as their main sources of income.  But textiles too. In fact, you've probably heard of the Amazigh or own a rug woven by them. A Berber rug. HEN: Amazigh, which are also called Berbers. But they're rejecting this term because of the association with barbarians, which was the title that European colonialists when they came to North Africa gave them. There's beautiful folklore about Jewish leaders within the Amazigh people. One story that I really connected to was the story of Queen Dihya that was also known as El-Kahina, which in Arabic means the Kohen, the priest, and she was known as this leader of the Amazigh tribes, and she was Jewish.  Her derrogaters were calling her a Jewish witch, because they said that she had the power to foresee the future. And her roots were apparently connected to Queen Sheba and her arrival from Israel back to Africa. And she was the descendant of Queen Sheba. And that's how she led the Amazigh people.  And the stories that I read about her, I just felt so connected. How she had this long, black, curly hair that went all the way down to her knees, and she was fierce, and she was very committed to her identity, and she was fighting against the Islamic expansion to North Africa.  And when she failed, after years of holding them off, she realized that she can't do it anymore and she's going to lose. And she was not willing to give up her Jewish identity and convert to Islam and instead she jumped into a well and died. This well is known today in Tunisia. It's the [Bir] Al-Kahina or Dihya's Well that is still in existence. Her descendants, her kids, were Jewish members of the Amazigh people.  Of course, I would like to believe that I am the descendant of royalty. MANYA: Scholars debate whether the Amazigh converted to Judaism or descended from Queen Dihya and stayed.  Lucette Valensi is a French scholar of Tunisian history who served as a director of studies at the School for Advanced Studies in the Social Sciences in Paris, one of the most prestigious institutions of graduate education in France. She has written extensively about Tunisian Jewish culture.   Generations of her family lived in Tunisia. She says archaeological evidence proves Jews were living in that land since Antiquity. LUCETTE VALENSI: I myself am a Chemla, born Chemla. And this is an Arabic name, which means a kind of belt. And my mother's name was Tartour, which is a turban [laugh]. So the names were Arabic. So my ancestors spoke Arabic. I don't know if any of them spoke Berber before, or Latin. I have no idea. But there were Jews in antiquity and of course, through Saint Augustin. MANYA: So when did Jews arrive in Tunisia? LUCETTE: [laugh] That's a strange question because they were there since Antiquity. We have evidence of their presence in mosaics of synagogues, from the times of Byzantium. I think we think in terms of a short chronology, and they would tend to associate the Jews to colonization, which does not make sense, they were there much before French colonization. They were there for millennia. MANYA: Valensi says Jews lived in Tunisia dating to the time of Carthage, an ancient city-state in what is now Tunisia, that reached its peak in the fourth century BCE. Later, under Roman and then Byzantine rule, Carthage continued to play a vital role as a center of commerce and trade during antiquity.  Besides the role of tax collectors, Jews were forbidden to serve in almost all public offices. Between the 5th and 8th centuries CE, conditions fluctuated between relief and forced conversions while under Christian rule.  After the Islamic conquest of Tunisia in the seventh and early eighth centuries CE, the treatment of Jews largely depended on which Muslim ruler was in charge at the time.  Some Jews converted to Islam while others lived as dhimmis, or second-class citizens, protected by the state in exchange for a special tax known as the jizya. In 1146, the first caliph of the Almohad dynasty, declared that the Prophet Muhammad had granted Jews religious freedom for only 500 years, by which time if the messiah had not come, they had to convert.  Those who did not convert and even those who did were forced to wear yellow turbans or other special garb called shikra, to distinguish them from Muslims. An influx of Jews expelled from Spain and Portugal arrived in the 14th Century. In the 16th Century, Tunisia became part of the Ottoman Empire, and the situation of Jews improved significantly. Another group who had settled in the coastal Tuscan city of Livorno crossed the Mediterranean in the 17th and 18th centuries to make Tunisia their home. LUCETTE: There were other groups that came, Jews from Italy, Jews from Spain, of course, Spain and Portugal, different periods. 14th century already from Spain and then from Spain and Portugal. From Italy, from Livorno, that's later, but the Jews from Livorno themselves came from Spain.  So I myself am named Valensi. From Valencia. It was the family name of my first husband. So from Valencia in Spain they went to Livorno, and from Livorno–Leghorn in English–to Tunisia. MANYA: At its peak, Tunisia's Jewish population exceeded 100,000 – a combination of Sephardi and Mizrahi. HEN: When we speak about Jews from the Middle East and North Africa, specifically in the West, or mainly in the West, we're referring to them as Sephardi. But in Tunisia, it's very interesting to see that there was the Grana community which are Livorno Jews that moved to Tunisia in the 1800s, and they brought the Sephardi way of praying.  And that's why I always use the term Mizrahi to describe myself, because I feel like it encapsulates more of my identity. And for me, the Sephardi title that we often use on those communities doesn't feel accurate to me, and it also has the connection to Ladino, which my grandparents never spoke.  They spoke Tamazight, Judeo-Tamazight, which was the language of those tribes in North Africa. And my family from my mother's side, from Iraq, they were speaking Judeo-Iraqi-Arabic.  So for me, the term Sephardi just doesn't cut it. I go with Mizrahi to describe myself. MANYA: The terms Ashkenazi, Sephardi, and Mizrahi all refer to the places Jews once called home.  Ashkenazi Jews hail from Central and Eastern Europe, particularly Germany, Poland, and Russia. They traditionally speak Yiddish, and their customs and practices reflect the influences of Central and Eastern European cultures.  Pogroms in Eastern Europe and the Holocaust led many Ashkenazi Jews to flee their longtime homes to countries like the United States and their ancestral homeland, Israel.  Mizrahi, which means “Eastern” in Hebrew, refers to the diaspora of descendants of Jewish communities from Middle Eastern countries such as: Iraq, Iran, and Yemen, and North African countries such as: Tunisia, Libya, and Morocco. Ancient Jewish communities that have lived in the region for millennia long before the advent of Islam and Christianity. They often speak dialects of Arabic. Sephardi Jews originate from Spain and Portugal, speaking Ladino and incorporating Spanish and Portuguese cultural influences. Following their expulsion from the Iberian Peninsula in 1492, they settled in regions like North Africa and the Balkans. In Tunisia, the Mizrahi and Sephardi communities lived side by side, but separately. HEN: As time passed, those communities became closer together, still quite separated, but they became closer and closer. And perhaps the reason they were becoming closer was because of the hardship that they faced as Jews.  For the leaders of Muslim armies that came to Tunisia, it didn't matter if you were a Sephardi Jew, or if you were an Amazigh Jew. You were a Jew for them. MANYA: Algeria's invasion of Tunisia in the 18th century had a disproportionate effect on Tunisia's Jewish community. The Algerian army killed thousands of the citizens of Tunis, many of whom were Jewish. Algerians raped Jewish women, looted Jewish homes. LUCETTE: There were moments of trouble when you had an invasion of the Algerian army to impose a prince. The Jews were molested in Tunis. MANYA: After a military invasion, a French protectorate was established in 1881 and lasted until Tunisia gained independence in 1956. The Jews of Tunisia felt much safer under the French protectorate.  They put a lot of stock in the French revolutionary promise of Liberté, égalité, fraternité. Soon, the French language replaced Judeo-Arabic. LUCETTE: Well, under colonization, the Jews were in a better position. First, the school system. They went to modern schools, especially the Alliance [Israélite Universelle] schools, and with that started a form of Westernization.  You had also schools in Italian, created by Italian Jews, and some Tunisian Jews went to these schools and already in the 19th century, there was a form of acculturation and Westernization.  Access to newspapers, creation of newspapers. In the 1880s Jews had already their own newspapers in Hebrew characters, but Arabic language.  And my grandfather was one of the early journalists and they started having their own press and published books, folklore, sort of short stories. MANYA: In May 1940, Nazi Germany invaded France and quickly overran the French Third Republic, forcing the French to sign an armistice agreement in June. The armistice significantly reduced the territory governed by France and created a new government known as the Vichy regime, after the central French city where it was based.  The Vichy regime collaborated with the Nazis, establishing a special administration to introduce anti-Jewish legislation and enforce a compulsory Jewish census in all of its territories including Tunisia. Hen grew up learning about the Holocaust, the Nazis' attempt to erase the Jewish people. As part of his schooling, he learned the names of concentration and death camps and he heard the stories from his friends' grandparents.  But because he was not Ashkenazi, because his grandparents didn't suffer through the same catastrophe that befell Europe, Hen never felt fully accepted.  It was a trauma that belonged to his Ashkenazi friends of German and Polish descent, not to him. Or so they thought and so he thought, until he was a teenager and asked his grandmother Kamisa to finally share their family's journey from Tunisia. That's when he learned that the Mazzig family had not been exempt from Hitler's hatred. In November 1942, Tunisia became the only North African country to come under Nazi Germany's occupation and the Nazis wasted no time. Jewish property was confiscated, and heavy fines were levied on large Jewish communities. With the presence of the Einsatzkommando, a subgroup of the Einsatzgruppen, or mobile killing units, the Nazis were prepared to implement the systematic murder of the Jews of Tunisia. The tide of the war turned just in time to prevent that. LUCETTE: At the time the Germans came, they did not control the Mediterranean, and so they could not export us to the camps. We were saved by that. Lanor camps for men in dangerous places where there were bombs by the Allies. But not for us, it was, I mean, they took our radios. They took the silverware or they took money, this kind of oppression, but they did not murder us.  They took the men away, a few families were directly impacted and died in the camps. A few men. So we were afraid. We were occupied. But compared to what Jews in Europe were subjected to, we didn't suffer.  MANYA: Almost 5,000 Jews, most of them from Tunis and from certain northern communities, were taken captive and incarcerated in 32 labor camps scattered throughout Tunisia. Jews were not only required to wear yellow stars, but those in the camps were also required to wear them on their backs so they could be identified from a distance and shot in the event they tried to escape. HEN: My grandmother never told me until before she died, when she was more open about the stories of oppression, on how she was serving food for the French Nazi officers that were occupying Tunisia, or how my grandfather was in a labor camp, and he was supposed to be sent to a death camp in Europe as well. They never felt like they should share these stories. MANYA: The capture of Tunisia by the Allied forces in May 1943 led the Axis forces in North Africa to surrender. But the country remained under French colonial rule and the antisemitic legislation of the Vichy regime continued until 1944. Many of the Vichy camps, including forced labor camps in the Sahara, continued to operate.  Even after the decline and fall of the Vichy regime and the pursuit of independence from French rule began, conditions for the Mazzig family and many others in the Tunisian Jewish community did not improve.  But the source of much of the hostility and strife was actually a beacon of hope for Tunisia's Jews. On May 14, 1948, the world had witnessed the creation of the state of Israel, sparking outrage throughout the Arab world. Seven Arab nations declared war on Israel the day after it declared independence.  Amid the rise of Tunisian nationalism and its push for independence from France, Jewish communities who had lived in Tunisia for centuries became targets. Guilty by association. No longer welcome. Rabbinical councils were dismantled. Jewish sports associations banned. Jews practiced their religion in hiding. Hen's grandfather recounted violence in the Jewish quarter of Tunis.  HEN: When World War Two was over, the Jewish community in Tunisia was hoping that now that Tunisia would have emancipation, and it would become a country, that their neighbors and the country itself would protect them. Because when it was Nazis, they knew that it was a foreign power that came from France and oppressed them. They knew that there was some hatred in the past, from their Muslim neighbors towards them.  But they also were hoping that, if anything, they would go back to the same status of a dhimmi, of being a protected minority. Even if they were not going to be fully accepted and celebrated in this society, at least they would be protected, for paying tax. And this really did not happen. MANYA: By the early 1950s, life for the Mazzig family became untenable. By then, American Jewish organizations based in Tunis started working to take Jews to Israel right away.  HEN: [My family decided to leave.] They took whatever they had left. And they got on a boat. And my grandmother told me this story before she passed away on how they were on this boat coming to Israel.  And they were so happy, and they were crying because they felt that finally after generations upon generations of oppression of living as a minority that knows that anytime the ruler might turn on them and take everything they have and pull the ground underneath their feet, they are going to come to a place where they are going to be protected. And maybe they will face hate, but no one will hate them because they're Jewish.  And I often dream about my grandmother being a young girl on this boat and how she must have felt to know that the nightmare and the hell that she went through is behind her and that she was coming home. MANYA: The boat they sailed to Israel took days. When Hen's uncle, just a young child at the time, got sick, the captain threatened to throw him overboard. Hen's grandmother hid the child inside her clothes until they docked in Israel. When they arrived, they were sprayed with DDT to kill any lice or disease, then placed in ma'abarot, which in Hebrew means transit camps. In this case, it was a tent with one bed. HEN: They were really mistreated back then. And it's not criticism. I mean, yes, it is also criticism, but it's not without understanding the context. That it was a young country that just started, and those Jewish communities, Jewish refugees came from Tunisia, they didn't speak Hebrew. They didn't look like the other Jewish communities there. And while they all had this in common, that they were all Jews, they had a very different experience. MANYA: No, the family's arrival in the Holy Land was nothing like what they had imagined. But even still, it was a dream fulfilled and there was hope, which they had lost in Tunisia. HEN: I think that it was somewhere in between having both this deep connection to Israel and going there because they wanted to, and also knowing that there's no future in Tunisia. And the truth is that even–and I'm sure people that are listening to us, that are strong Zionists and love Israel, if you tell them ‘OK, so move tomorrow,' no matter how much you love Israel, it's a very difficult decision to make.  Unless it's not really a decision. And I think for them, it wasn't really a decision. And they went through so much, they knew, OK, we have to leave and I think for the first time having a country, having Israel was the hope that they had for centuries to go back home, finally realized. MANYA: Valensi's family did stay a while longer. When Tunisia declared independence in 1956, her father, a ceramicist, designed tiles for the residence of President Habib Bourguiba. Those good relations did not last.  Valensi studied history in France, married an engineer, and returned to Tunisia. But after being there for five years, it became clear that Jews were not treated equally and they returned to France in 1965. LUCETTE: I did not plan to emigrate. And then it became more and more obvious that some people were more equal than others [laugh]. And so there was this nationalist mood where responsibilities were given to Muslims rather than Jews and I felt more and more segregated.  And so, my husband was an engineer from a good engineering school. Again, I mean, he worked for another engineer, who was a Muslim. We knew he would never reach the same position. His father was a lawyer. And in the tribunal, he had to use Arabic. And so all these things accumulated, and we were displaced. MANYA: Valensi said Jewish emigration from Tunisia accelerated at two more mileposts. Even after Tunisia declared independence, France maintained a presence and a naval base in the port city of Bizerte, a strategic port on the Mediterranean for the French who were fighting with Algeria.  In 1961, Tunisian forces blockaded the naval base and warned France to stay out of its airspace. What became known as the Bizerte Crisis lasted for three days. LUCETTE: There were critical times, like what we call “La Crise de Bizerte.” Bizerte is a port to the west of Tunis that used to be a military port and when independence was negotiated with France, the French kept this port, where they could keep an army, and Bourguiba decided that he wanted this port back. And there was a war, a conflict, between Tunisia and France in ‘61.  And that crisis was one moment when Jews thought: if there is no French presence to protect us, then anything could happen. You had the movement of emigration.  Of course, much later, ‘67, the unrest in the Middle East, and what happened there provoked a kind of panic, and there were movements against the Jews in Tunis – violence and destruction of shops, etc. So they emigrated again. Now you have only a few hundred Jews left. MANYA: Valensi's first husband died at an early age. Her second husband, Abraham Udovitch, is the former chair of Near Eastern Studies at Princeton University. Together, they researched and published a book about the Jewish communities in the Tunisian island of Djerba. The couple now splits their time between Paris and Princeton. But Valensi returns to Tunisia every year. It's still home. LUCETTE: When I go, strange thing, I feel at home. I mean, I feel I belong. My Arabic comes back. The words that I thought I had forgotten come back. They welcome you. I mean, if you go, you say you come from America, they're going to ask you questions. Are you Jewish? Did you go to Israel? I mean, these kind of very brutal questions, right away. They're going there. The taxi driver won't hesitate to ask you: Are you Jewish? But at the same time, they're very welcoming. So, I have no trouble. MANYA: Hen, on the other hand, has never been to the land of his ancestors. He holds on to his grandparents' trauma. And fear.  HEN: Tunisia just still feels a bit unsafe to me. Just as recent as a couple of months ago, there was a terror attack. So it's something that's still occurring.  MANYA: Just last year, a member of the Tunisian National Guard opened fire on worshippers outside El Ghriba Synagogue where a large gathering of Jewish pilgrims were celebrating the festival of Lag BaOmer. The synagogue is located on the Tunisian island of Djerba where Valensi and her husband did research for their book. Earlier this year, a mob attacked an abandoned synagogue in the southern city of Sfax, setting fire to the building's courtyard. Numbering over 100,000 Jews on the eve of Israel's Independence in 1948, the Tunisian Jewish community is now estimated to be less than 1,000.  There has been limited contact over the years between Tunisia and Israel. Some Israeli tourists, mostly of Tunisian origin, annually visit the El Ghriba synagogue in Djerba. But the government has largely been hostile to the Jewish state.  In the wake of the October 7 attack, the Tunisian parliament began debate on a law that would criminalize any normalization of ties with Israel. Still, Hen would like to go just once to see where his grandparents lived. Walked. Cooked. Prayed.  But to him it's just geography, an arbitrary place on a map. The memories, the music, the recipes, the traditions. It's no longer in Tunisia. It's elsewhere now – in the only country that preserved it. HEN: The Jewish Tunisian culture, the only place that it's been maintained is in Israel. That's why it's still alive. Like in Tunisia, it's not really celebrated. It's not something that they keep as much as they keep here.  Like if you want to go to a proper Mimouna, you would probably need to go to Israel, not to North Africa, although that's where it started. And the same with the Middle Eastern Jewish cuisine. The only place in the world, where be it Tunisian Jews and Iraqi Jews, or Yemenite Jews, still develop their recipes, is in Israel.  Israel is home, and this is where we still celebrate our culture and our cuisine and our identity is still something that I can engage with here.  I always feel like I am living the dreams of my grandparents, and I know that my grandmother is looking from above and I know how proud she is that we have a country, that we have a place to be safe at.  And that everything I do today is to protect my people, to protect the Jewish people, and making sure that next time when a country, when an empire, when a power would turn on Jews we'll have a place to go to and be safe. MANYA: Tunisian Jews are just one of the many Jewish communities who, in the last century, left Arab countries to forge new lives for themselves and future generations.  Join us next week as we share another untold story of The Forgotten Exodus. Many thanks to Hen for sharing his story. You can read more in his memoir The Wrong Kind of Jew: A Mizrahi Manifesto. Too many times during my reporting, I encountered children and grandchildren who didn't have the answers to my questions because they'd never asked. That's why one of the goals of this project is to encourage you to ask those questions. Find your stories. Atara Lakritz is our producer. T.K. Broderick is our sound engineer. Special thanks to Jon Schweitzer, Nicole Mazur, Sean Savage, and Madeleine Stern, and so many of our colleagues, too many to name really, for making this series possible.  You can subscribe to The Forgotten Exodus on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts, and you can learn more at AJC.org/theforgottenexodus.  The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC.  You can reach us at theforgottenexodus@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed this episode, please be sure to spread the word, and hop onto Apple Podcasts or Spotify to rate us and write a review to help more listeners find us.

“In the Israeli DNA and the Jewish DNA, we have to fight to be who we are. In every generation, empires and big forces tried to erase us . . . I know what it is to be rejected for several parts of my identity... I'm fighting for my ancestors, but I'm also fighting for our future generation.”  Hen Mazzig, a writer, digital creator, and founder of the Tel Aviv Institute, shares his powerful journey as a proud Israeli, LGBTQ+, and Mizrahi Jew, in the premiere episode of the second season of the award-winning podcast, The Forgotten Exodus. Hen delves into his family's deep roots in Tunisia, their harrowing experiences during the Nazi occupation, and their eventual escape to Israel. Discover the rich history of Tunisia's ancient Amazigh Jewish community, the impact of French colonial and Arab nationalist movements on Jews in North Africa, and the cultural identity that Hen passionately preserves today. Joining the conversation is historian Lucette Valensi, an expert on Tunisian Jewish culture, who provides scholarly insights into the longstanding presence of Jews in Tunisia, from antiquity to their exodus in the mid-20th century. ___ Show notes: Sign up to receive podcast updates here. Learn more about the series here. Song credits:  "Penceresi Yola Karsi" -- by Turku, Nomads of the Silk Road Pond5:  “Desert Caravans”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Tiemur Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Sentimental Oud Middle Eastern”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Sotirios Bakas (BMI), IPI#797324989. “Meditative Middle Eastern Flute”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Danielyan Ashot Makichevich (BMI), IPI Name #00855552512, United States BMI “Tunisia Eastern”: Publisher: Edi Surya Nurrohim, Composer: Edi Surya Nurrohim, Item ID#155836469. “At The Rabbi's Table”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Fazio Giulio (IPI/CAE# 00198377019). “Fields Of Elysium”; Publisher: Mysterylab Music; Composer: Mott Jordan; ID#79549862  “Frontiers”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Pete Checkley (BMI), IPI#380407375 “Hatikvah (National Anthem Of Israel)”; Composer: Eli Sibony; ID#122561081 “Tunisian Pot Dance (Short)”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: kesokid, ID #97451515 “Middle East Ident”; Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Alpha (ASCAP); Composer: Alon Marcus (ACUM), IPI#776550702 “Adventures in the East”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI) Composer: Petar Milinkovic (BMI), IPI#00738313833. ___ Episode Transcript: HEN MAZZIG: They took whatever they had left and they got on a boat. And my grandmother told me this story before she passed away on how they were on this boat coming to Israel.  And they were so happy, and they were crying because they felt that finally after generations upon generations of oppression they are going to come to a place where they are going to be protected, and that she was coming home. MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: The world has overlooked an important episode in modern history: the 800,000 Jews who left or were driven from their homes in the Middle East and North Africa in the mid-20th century. Welcome to the second season of The Forgotten Exodus, brought to you by American Jewish Committee. This series explores that pivotal moment in history and the little-known Jewish heritage of Iran and Arab nations. As Jews around the world confront violent antisemitism and Israelis face daily attacks by terrorists on multiple fronts, our second season explores how Jews have lived throughout the region for generations–despite hardship, hostility, and hatred–then sought safety and new possibilities in their ancestral homeland. I'm your host, Manya Brachear Pashman. Join us as we explore untold family histories and personal stories of courage, perseverance, and resilience from this transformative and tumultuous period of history for the Jewish people and the Middle East.  The world has ignored these voices. We will not. This is The Forgotten Exodus.  Today's episode: leaving Tunisia. __ [Tel Aviv Pride video] MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: Every June, Hen Mazzig, who splits his time between London and Tel Aviv, heads to Israel to show his Pride. His Israeli pride. His LGBTQ+ pride. And his Mizrahi Jewish pride. For that one week, all of those identities coalesce.  And while other cities around the world have transformed Pride into a June version of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, Israel is home to one of the few vibrant LGBTQ communities in the Middle East. Tel Aviv keeps it real. HEN: For me, Pride in Israel, in Tel Aviv, it still has this element of fighting for something. And that it's important for all of us to show up and to come out to the Pride Parade because if we're not going to be there, there's some people with agendas to erase us and we can't let them do it. MANYA: This year, the Tel Aviv Pride rally was a more somber affair as participants demanded freedom for the more than 100 hostages still held in Gaza since October 7th.  On that day, Hamas terrorists bent on erasing Jews from the Middle East went on a murderous rampage, killing more than 1,200, kidnapping 250 others, and unleashing what has become a 7-front war on Israel. HEN: In the Israeli DNA and the Jewish DNA we have to fight to be who we are. In every generation, empires and big forces tried to erase us, and we had to fight. And the LGBTQ+ community also knows very well how hard it is. I know what it is to be rejected for several parts of my identity. And I don't want anyone to go through that. I don't want my children to go through that. I'm fighting for my ancestors, but I'm also fighting for our future generation. MANYA: Hen Mazzig is an international speaker, writer, and digital influencer. In 2022, he founded the Tel Aviv Institute, a social media laboratory that tackles antisemitism online. He's also a second-generation Israeli, whose maternal grandparents fled Iraq, while his father's parents fled Tunisia – roots that echo in the family name: Mazzig. HEN: The last name Mazzig never made sense, because in Israel a lot of the last names have meaning in Hebrew.  So I remember one of my teachers in school was saying that Mazzig sounds like mozeg, which means pouring in Hebrew. Maybe your ancestors were running a bar or something? Clearly, this teacher did not have knowledge of the Amazigh people. Which, later on I learned, several of those tribes, those Amazigh tribes, were Jewish or practiced Judaism, and that there was 5,000 Jews that came from Tunisia that were holding both identities of being Jewish and Amazigh.  And today, they have last names like Mazzig, and Amzaleg, Mizzoug. There's several of those last names in Israel today. And they are the descendants of those Jewish communities that have lived in the Atlas Mountains. MANYA: The Atlas Mountains. A 1,500-mile chain of magnificent peaks and treacherous terrain that stretch across Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia, separating the Sahara from the Mediterranean and Atlantic coastline.  It's where the nomadic Amazigh have called home for thousands of years. The Amazigh trace their origins to at least 2,000 BCE  in western North Africa. They speak the language of Tamazight and rely on cattle and agriculture as their main sources of income.  But textiles too. In fact, you've probably heard of the Amazigh or own a rug woven by them. A Berber rug. HEN: Amazigh, which are also called Berbers. But they're rejecting this term because of the association with barbarians, which was the title that European colonialists when they came to North Africa gave them. There's beautiful folklore about Jewish leaders within the Amazigh people. One story that I really connected to was the story of Queen Dihya that was also known as El-Kahina, which in Arabic means the Kohen, the priest, and she was known as this leader of the Amazigh tribes, and she was Jewish.  Her derrogaters were calling her a Jewish witch, because they said that she had the power to foresee the future. And her roots were apparently connected to Queen Sheba and her arrival from Israel back to Africa. And she was the descendant of Queen Sheba. And that's how she led the Amazigh people.  And the stories that I read about her, I just felt so connected. How she had this long, black, curly hair that went all the way down to her knees, and she was fierce, and she was very committed to her identity, and she was fighting against the Islamic expansion to North Africa.  And when she failed, after years of holding them off, she realized that she can't do it anymore and she's going to lose. And she was not willing to give up her Jewish identity and convert to Islam and instead she jumped into a well and died. This well is known today in Tunisia. It's the [Bir] Al-Kahina or Dihya's Well that is still in existence. Her descendants, her kids, were Jewish members of the Amazigh people.  Of course, I would like to believe that I am the descendant of royalty. MANYA: Scholars debate whether the Amazigh converted to Judaism or descended from Queen Dihya and stayed.  Lucette Valensi is a French scholar of Tunisian history who served as a director of studies at the School for Advanced Studies in the Social Sciences in Paris, one of the most prestigious institutions of graduate education in France. She has written extensively about Tunisian Jewish culture.   Generations of her family lived in Tunisia. She says archaeological evidence proves Jews were living in that land since Antiquity. LUCETTE VALENSI: I myself am a Chemla, born Chemla. And this is an Arabic name, which means a kind of belt. And my mother's name was Tartour, which is a turban [laugh]. So the names were Arabic. So my ancestors spoke Arabic. I don't know if any of them spoke Berber before, or Latin. I have no idea. But there were Jews in antiquity and of course, through Saint Augustin. MANYA: So when did Jews arrive in Tunisia? LUCETTE: [laugh] That's a strange question because they were there since Antiquity. We have evidence of their presence in mosaics of synagogues, from the times of Byzantium. I think we think in terms of a short chronology, and they would tend to associate the Jews to colonization, which does not make sense, they were there much before French colonization. They were there for millennia. MANYA: Valensi says Jews lived in Tunisia dating to the time of Carthage, an ancient city-state in what is now Tunisia, that reached its peak in the fourth century BCE. Later, under Roman and then Byzantine rule, Carthage continued to play a vital role as a center of commerce and trade during antiquity.  Besides the role of tax collectors, Jews were forbidden to serve in almost all public offices. Between the 5th and 8th centuries CE, conditions fluctuated between relief and forced conversions while under Christian rule.  After the Islamic conquest of Tunisia in the seventh and early eighth centuries CE, the treatment of Jews largely depended on which Muslim ruler was in charge at the time.  Some Jews converted to Islam while others lived as dhimmis, or second-class citizens, protected by the state in exchange for a special tax known as the jizya. In 1146, the first caliph of the Almohad dynasty, declared that the Prophet Muhammad had granted Jews religious freedom for only 500 years, by which time if the messiah had not come, they had to convert.  Those who did not convert and even those who did were forced to wear yellow turbans or other special garb called shikra, to distinguish them from Muslims. An influx of Jews expelled from Spain and Portugal arrived in the 14th Century. In the 16th Century, Tunisia became part of the Ottoman Empire, and the situation of Jews improved significantly. Another group who had settled in the coastal Tuscan city of Livorno crossed the Mediterranean in the 17th and 18th centuries to make Tunisia their home. LUCETTE: There were other groups that came, Jews from Italy, Jews from Spain, of course, Spain and Portugal, different periods. 14th century already from Spain and then from Spain and Portugal. From Italy, from Livorno, that's later, but the Jews from Livorno themselves came from Spain.  So I myself am named Valensi. From Valencia. It was the family name of my first husband. So from Valencia in Spain they went to Livorno, and from Livorno–Leghorn in English–to Tunisia. MANYA: At its peak, Tunisia's Jewish population exceeded 100,000 – a combination of Sephardi and Mizrahi. HEN: When we speak about Jews from the Middle East and North Africa, specifically in the West, or mainly in the West, we're referring to them as Sephardi. But in Tunisia, it's very interesting to see that there was the Grana community which are Livorno Jews that moved to Tunisia in the 1800s, and they brought the Sephardi way of praying.  And that's why I always use the term Mizrahi to describe myself, because I feel like it encapsulates more of my identity. And for me, the Sephardi title that we often use on those communities doesn't feel accurate to me, and it also has the connection to Ladino, which my grandparents never spoke.  They spoke Tamazight, Judeo-Tamazight, which was the language of those tribes in North Africa. And my family from my mother's side, from Iraq, they were speaking Judeo-Iraqi-Arabic.  So for me, the term Sephardi just doesn't cut it. I go with Mizrahi to describe myself. MANYA: The terms Ashkenazi, Sephardi, and Mizrahi all refer to the places Jews once called home.  Ashkenazi Jews hail from Central and Eastern Europe, particularly Germany, Poland, and Russia. They traditionally speak Yiddish, and their customs and practices reflect the influences of Central and Eastern European cultures.  Pogroms in Eastern Europe and the Holocaust led many Ashkenazi Jews to flee their longtime homes to countries like the United States and their ancestral homeland, Israel.  Mizrahi, which means “Eastern” in Hebrew, refers to the diaspora of descendants of Jewish communities from Middle Eastern countries such as: Iraq, Iran, and Yemen, and North African countries such as: Tunisia, Libya, and Morocco. Ancient Jewish communities that have lived in the region for millennia long before the advent of Islam and Christianity. They often speak dialects of Arabic. Sephardi Jews originate from Spain and Portugal, speaking Ladino and incorporating Spanish and Portuguese cultural influences. Following their expulsion from the Iberian Peninsula in 1492, they settled in regions like North Africa and the Balkans. In Tunisia, the Mizrahi and Sephardi communities lived side by side, but separately. HEN: As time passed, those communities became closer together, still quite separated, but they became closer and closer. And perhaps the reason they were becoming closer was because of the hardship that they faced as Jews.  For the leaders of Muslim armies that came to Tunisia, it didn't matter if you were a Sephardi Jew, or if you were an Amazigh Jew. You were a Jew for them. MANYA: Algeria's invasion of Tunisia in the 18th century had a disproportionate effect on Tunisia's Jewish community. The Algerian army killed thousands of the citizens of Tunis, many of whom were Jewish. Algerians raped Jewish women, looted Jewish homes. LUCETTE: There were moments of trouble when you had an invasion of the Algerian army to impose a prince. The Jews were molested in Tunis. MANYA: After a military invasion, a French protectorate was established in 1881 and lasted until Tunisia gained independence in 1956. The Jews of Tunisia felt much safer under the French protectorate.  They put a lot of stock in the French revolutionary promise of Liberté, égalité, fraternité. Soon, the French language replaced Judeo-Arabic. LUCETTE: Well, under colonization, the Jews were in a better position. First, the school system. They went to modern schools, especially the Alliance [Israélite Universelle] schools, and with that started a form of Westernization.  You had also schools in Italian, created by Italian Jews, and some Tunisian Jews went to these schools and already in the 19th century, there was a form of acculturation and Westernization.  Access to newspapers, creation of newspapers. In the 1880s Jews had already their own newspapers in Hebrew characters, but Arabic language.  And my grandfather was one of the early journalists and they started having their own press and published books, folklore, sort of short stories. MANYA: In May 1940, Nazi Germany invaded France and quickly overran the French Third Republic, forcing the French to sign an armistice agreement in June. The armistice significantly reduced the territory governed by France and created a new government known as the Vichy regime, after the central French city where it was based.  The Vichy regime collaborated with the Nazis, establishing a special administration to introduce anti-Jewish legislation and enforce a compulsory Jewish census in all of its territories including Tunisia. Hen grew up learning about the Holocaust, the Nazis' attempt to erase the Jewish people. As part of his schooling, he learned the names of concentration and death camps and he heard the stories from his friends' grandparents.  But because he was not Ashkenazi, because his grandparents didn't suffer through the same catastrophe that befell Europe, Hen never felt fully accepted.  It was a trauma that belonged to his Ashkenazi friends of German and Polish descent, not to him. Or so they thought and so he thought, until he was a teenager and asked his grandmother Kamisa to finally share their family's journey from Tunisia. That's when he learned that the Mazzig family had not been exempt from Hitler's hatred. In November 1942, Tunisia became the only North African country to come under Nazi Germany's occupation and the Nazis wasted no time. Jewish property was confiscated, and heavy fines were levied on large Jewish communities. With the presence of the Einsatzkommando, a subgroup of the Einsatzgruppen, or mobile killing units, the Nazis were prepared to implement the systematic murder of the Jews of Tunisia. The tide of the war turned just in time to prevent that. LUCETTE: At the time the Germans came, they did not control the Mediterranean, and so they could not export us to the camps. We were saved by that. Lanor camps for men in dangerous places where there were bombs by the Allies. But not for us, it was, I mean, they took our radios. They took the silverware or they took money, this kind of oppression, but they did not murder us.  They took the men away, a few families were directly impacted and died in the camps. A few men. So we were afraid. We were occupied. But compared to what Jews in Europe were subjected to, we didn't suffer.  MANYA: Almost 5,000 Jews, most of them from Tunis and from certain northern communities, were taken captive and incarcerated in 32 labor camps scattered throughout Tunisia. Jews were not only required to wear yellow stars, but those in the camps were also required to wear them on their backs so they could be identified from a distance and shot in the event they tried to escape. HEN: My grandmother never told me until before she died, when she was more open about the stories of oppression, on how she was serving food for the French Nazi officers that were occupying Tunisia, or how my grandfather was in a labor camp, and he was supposed to be sent to a death camp in Europe as well. They never felt like they should share these stories. MANYA: The capture of Tunisia by the Allied forces in May 1943 led the Axis forces in North Africa to surrender. But the country remained under French colonial rule and the antisemitic legislation of the Vichy regime continued until 1944. Many of the Vichy camps, including forced labor camps in the Sahara, continued to operate.  Even after the decline and fall of the Vichy regime and the pursuit of independence from French rule began, conditions for the Mazzig family and many others in the Tunisian Jewish community did not improve.  But the source of much of the hostility and strife was actually a beacon of hope for Tunisia's Jews. On May 14, 1948, the world had witnessed the creation of the state of Israel, sparking outrage throughout the Arab world. Seven Arab nations declared war on Israel the day after it declared independence.  Amid the rise of Tunisian nationalism and its push for independence from France, Jewish communities who had lived in Tunisia for centuries became targets. Guilty by association. No longer welcome. Rabbinical councils were dismantled. Jewish sports associations banned. Jews practiced their religion in hiding. Hen's grandfather recounted violence in the Jewish quarter of Tunis.  HEN: When World War Two was over, the Jewish community in Tunisia was hoping that now that Tunisia would have emancipation, and it would become a country, that their neighbors and the country itself would protect them. Because when it was Nazis, they knew that it was a foreign power that came from France and oppressed them. They knew that there was some hatred in the past, from their Muslim neighbors towards them.  But they also were hoping that, if anything, they would go back to the same status of a dhimmi, of being a protected minority. Even if they were not going to be fully accepted and celebrated in this society, at least they would be protected, for paying tax. And this really did not happen. MANYA: By the early 1950s, life for the Mazzig family became untenable. By then, American Jewish organizations based in Tunis started working to take Jews to Israel right away.  HEN: [My family decided to leave.] They took whatever they had left. And they got on a boat. And my grandmother told me this story before she passed away on how they were on this boat coming to Israel.  And they were so happy, and they were crying because they felt that finally after generations upon generations of oppression of living as a minority that knows that anytime the ruler might turn on them and take everything they have and pull the ground underneath their feet, they are going to come to a place where they are going to be protected. And maybe they will face hate, but no one will hate them because they're Jewish.  And I often dream about my grandmother being a young girl on this boat and how she must have felt to know that the nightmare and the hell that she went through is behind her and that she was coming home. MANYA: The boat they sailed to Israel took days. When Hen's uncle, just a young child at the time, got sick, the captain threatened to throw him overboard. Hen's grandmother hid the child inside her clothes until they docked in Israel. When they arrived, they were sprayed with DDT to kill any lice or disease, then placed in ma'abarot, which in Hebrew means transit camps. In this case, it was a tent with one bed. HEN: They were really mistreated back then. And it's not criticism. I mean, yes, it is also criticism, but it's not without understanding the context. That it was a young country that just started, and those Jewish communities, Jewish refugees came from Tunisia, they didn't speak Hebrew. They didn't look like the other Jewish communities there. And while they all had this in common, that they were all Jews, they had a very different experience. MANYA: No, the family's arrival in the Holy Land was nothing like what they had imagined. But even still, it was a dream fulfilled and there was hope, which they had lost in Tunisia. HEN: I think that it was somewhere in between having both this deep connection to Israel and going there because they wanted to, and also knowing that there's no future in Tunisia. And the truth is that even–and I'm sure people that are listening to us, that are strong Zionists and love Israel, if you tell them ‘OK, so move tomorrow,' no matter how much you love Israel, it's a very difficult decision to make.  Unless it's not really a decision. And I think for them, it wasn't really a decision. And they went through so much, they knew, OK, we have to leave and I think for the first time having a country, having Israel was the hope that they had for centuries to go back home, finally realized. MANYA: Valensi's family did stay a while longer. When Tunisia declared independence in 1956, her father, a ceramicist, designed tiles for the residence of President Habib Bourguiba. Those good relations did not last.  Valensi studied history in France, married an engineer, and returned to Tunisia. But after being there for five years, it became clear that Jews were not treated equally and they returned to France in 1965. LUCETTE: I did not plan to emigrate. And then it became more and more obvious that some people were more equal than others [laugh]. And so there was this nationalist mood where responsibilities were given to Muslims rather than Jews and I felt more and more segregated.  And so, my husband was an engineer from a good engineering school. Again, I mean, he worked for another engineer, who was a Muslim. We knew he would never reach the same position. His father was a lawyer. And in the tribunal, he had to use Arabic. And so all these things accumulated, and we were displaced. MANYA: Valensi said Jewish emigration from Tunisia accelerated at two more mileposts. Even after Tunisia declared independence, France maintained a presence and a naval base in the port city of Bizerte, a strategic port on the Mediterranean for the French who were fighting with Algeria.  In 1961, Tunisian forces blockaded the naval base and warned France to stay out of its airspace. What became known as the Bizerte Crisis lasted for three days. LUCETTE: There were critical times, like what we call “La Crise de Bizerte.” Bizerte is a port to the west of Tunis that used to be a military port and when independence was negotiated with France, the French kept this port, where they could keep an army, and Bourguiba decided that he wanted this port back. And there was a war, a conflict, between Tunisia and France in ‘61.  And that crisis was one moment when Jews thought: if there is no French presence to protect us, then anything could happen. You had the movement of emigration.  Of course, much later, ‘67, the unrest in the Middle East, and what happened there provoked a kind of panic, and there were movements against the Jews in Tunis – violence and destruction of shops, etc. So they emigrated again. Now you have only a few hundred Jews left. MANYA: Valensi's first husband died at an early age. Her second husband, Abraham Udovitch, is the former chair of Near Eastern Studies at Princeton University. Together, they researched and published a book about the Jewish communities in the Tunisian island of Djerba. The couple now splits their time between Paris and Princeton. But Valensi returns to Tunisia every year. It's still home. LUCETTE: When I go, strange thing, I feel at home. I mean, I feel I belong. My Arabic comes back. The words that I thought I had forgotten come back. They welcome you. I mean, if you go, you say you come from America, they're going to ask you questions. Are you Jewish? Did you go to Israel? I mean, these kind of very brutal questions, right away. They're going there. The taxi driver won't hesitate to ask you: Are you Jewish? But at the same time, they're very welcoming. So, I have no trouble. MANYA: Hen, on the other hand, has never been to the land of his ancestors. He holds on to his grandparents' trauma. And fear.  HEN: Tunisia just still feels a bit unsafe to me. Just as recent as a couple of months ago, there was a terror attack. So it's something that's still occurring.  MANYA: Just last year, a member of the Tunisian National Guard opened fire on worshippers outside El Ghriba Synagogue where a large gathering of Jewish pilgrims were celebrating the festival of Lag BaOmer. The synagogue is located on the Tunisian island of Djerba where Valensi and her husband did research for their book. Earlier this year, a mob attacked an abandoned synagogue in the southern city of Sfax, setting fire to the building's courtyard. Numbering over 100,000 Jews on the eve of Israel's Independence in 1948, the Tunisian Jewish community is now estimated to be less than 1,000.  There has been limited contact over the years between Tunisia and Israel. Some Israeli tourists, mostly of Tunisian origin, annually visit the El Ghriba synagogue in Djerba. But the government has largely been hostile to the Jewish state.  In the wake of the October 7 attack, the Tunisian parliament began debate on a law that would criminalize any normalization of ties with Israel. Still, Hen would like to go just once to see where his grandparents lived. Walked. Cooked. Prayed.  But to him it's just geography, an arbitrary place on a map. The memories, the music, the recipes, the traditions. It's no longer in Tunisia. It's elsewhere now – in the only country that preserved it. HEN: The Jewish Tunisian culture, the only place that it's been maintained is in Israel. That's why it's still alive. Like in Tunisia, it's not really celebrated. It's not something that they keep as much as they keep here.  Like if you want to go to a proper Mimouna, you would probably need to go to Israel, not to North Africa, although that's where it started. And the same with the Middle Eastern Jewish cuisine. The only place in the world, where be it Tunisian Jews and Iraqi Jews, or Yemenite Jews, still develop their recipes, is in Israel.  Israel is home, and this is where we still celebrate our culture and our cuisine and our identity is still something that I can engage with here.  I always feel like I am living the dreams of my grandparents, and I know that my grandmother is looking from above and I know how proud she is that we have a country, that we have a place to be safe at.  And that everything I do today is to protect my people, to protect the Jewish people, and making sure that next time when a country, when an empire, when a power would turn on Jews we'll have a place to go to and be safe. MANYA: Tunisian Jews are just one of the many Jewish communities who, in the last century, left Arab countries to forge new lives for themselves and future generations.  Join us next week as we share another untold story of The Forgotten Exodus. Many thanks to Hen for sharing his story. You can read more in his memoir The Wrong Kind of Jew: A Mizrahi Manifesto. Too many times during my reporting, I encountered children and grandchildren who didn't have the answers to my questions because they'd never asked. That's why one of the goals of this project is to encourage you to ask those questions. Find your stories. Atara Lakritz is our producer. T.K. Broderick is our sound engineer. Special thanks to Jon Schweitzer, Nicole Mazur, Sean Savage, and Madeleine Stern, and so many of our colleagues, too many to name really, for making this series possible.  You can subscribe to The Forgotten Exodus on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts, and you can learn more at AJC.org/theforgottenexodus.  The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC.  You can reach us at theforgottenexodus@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed this episode, please be sure to spread the word, and hop onto Apple Podcasts or Spotify to rate us and write a review to help more listeners find us.

Where Eylan and Penny begin their adventures into the Jewniverse: introducing themselves and the Big Three Jewish groups - Ashkenazi, Mizrachi, and Sephardi Jews.A full transcript of this episode is available hereMore about Eylan Ezekiel hereMore about Penny Rabiger hereThe podcast is on Twitter too, where we are sharing interesting articles and posts on related topics. If you'd like to be involved in our projects, such as being a guest on the podcast, please contact us here Incredible artwork and design by Emily Theodore - Thanks so much Emily!!!!Other interesting bits:Definition: Chavruta Definition: Pale of Settlement Stephen Bush's Report for the Board of DeputiesMore about Indian Jews in Britain, post partitionAlaister Bonnett - Multiracism (book)Iraqi Jews Music by Aleksafor utransndr Karabanov from PixabaySound Effect by Sergei Chetvertnykh from PixabayPlease be kind with the terrible editing in this first episode! There are a few jumps in the audio, and in the transcript. It'll get better. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

After their expulsion from Spain in 1492, Sephardi Jews such as Isaac Abravanel, Abraham Saba, and Isaac Arama wrote biblical commentaries that stressed the significance of land. They interpreted Judaism as a tradition whose best expression and ultimate fulfillment took place away from cities and in rural settings. Iberian-Jewish authors rooted their moral teachings in an ethical treatment of the natural world, elucidating ancient agricultural laws and scrutinizing the physical context and built environments of Bible stories. The Land Is Mine: Sephardi Jews and Bible Commentary in the Renaissance (U Pennsylvania Press, 2022) asks what inspired this and suggests that the answer lies not in timeless exegetical or theological trends, but in the material realities of late medieval and early modern Iberia, during a period of drastic changes in land use. The book uses a highly traditional source base in a decidedly untraditional way. In Jewish Studies, Andrew D. Berns observes, biblical commentary is typically studied as an intramural activity. Though scholars have conceded that Jewish scriptural exegesis welcomes material and ideas from other fields and traditions, little to no work treats premodern Hebrew Bible commentary as also drawing upon Classical and Christian sources as well as contemporary writings on land management and political economy. Abravanel, Saba, and Arama were engaged with questions that had broad resonance during their lives: the proper way to treat the land, the best occupations to pursue, and the ideal setting for human community. Scriptural commentary was the forum in which they addressed these problems and posed solutions to them. A work of intellectual history, The Land Is Mine demonstrates that it is impossible to understand Jewish culture without considering the physical realities on which it depended. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

After their expulsion from Spain in 1492, Sephardi Jews such as Isaac Abravanel, Abraham Saba, and Isaac Arama wrote biblical commentaries that stressed the significance of land. They interpreted Judaism as a tradition whose best expression and ultimate fulfillment took place away from cities and in rural settings. Iberian-Jewish authors rooted their moral teachings in an ethical treatment of the natural world, elucidating ancient agricultural laws and scrutinizing the physical context and built environments of Bible stories. The Land Is Mine: Sephardi Jews and Bible Commentary in the Renaissance (U Pennsylvania Press, 2022) asks what inspired this and suggests that the answer lies not in timeless exegetical or theological trends, but in the material realities of late medieval and early modern Iberia, during a period of drastic changes in land use. The book uses a highly traditional source base in a decidedly untraditional way. In Jewish Studies, Andrew D. Berns observes, biblical commentary is typically studied as an intramural activity. Though scholars have conceded that Jewish scriptural exegesis welcomes material and ideas from other fields and traditions, little to no work treats premodern Hebrew Bible commentary as also drawing upon Classical and Christian sources as well as contemporary writings on land management and political economy. Abravanel, Saba, and Arama were engaged with questions that had broad resonance during their lives: the proper way to treat the land, the best occupations to pursue, and the ideal setting for human community. Scriptural commentary was the forum in which they addressed these problems and posed solutions to them. A work of intellectual history, The Land Is Mine demonstrates that it is impossible to understand Jewish culture without considering the physical realities on which it depended. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

After their expulsion from Spain in 1492, Sephardi Jews such as Isaac Abravanel, Abraham Saba, and Isaac Arama wrote biblical commentaries that stressed the significance of land. They interpreted Judaism as a tradition whose best expression and ultimate fulfillment took place away from cities and in rural settings. Iberian-Jewish authors rooted their moral teachings in an ethical treatment of the natural world, elucidating ancient agricultural laws and scrutinizing the physical context and built environments of Bible stories. The Land Is Mine: Sephardi Jews and Bible Commentary in the Renaissance (U Pennsylvania Press, 2022) asks what inspired this and suggests that the answer lies not in timeless exegetical or theological trends, but in the material realities of late medieval and early modern Iberia, during a period of drastic changes in land use. The book uses a highly traditional source base in a decidedly untraditional way. In Jewish Studies, Andrew D. Berns observes, biblical commentary is typically studied as an intramural activity. Though scholars have conceded that Jewish scriptural exegesis welcomes material and ideas from other fields and traditions, little to no work treats premodern Hebrew Bible commentary as also drawing upon Classical and Christian sources as well as contemporary writings on land management and political economy. Abravanel, Saba, and Arama were engaged with questions that had broad resonance during their lives: the proper way to treat the land, the best occupations to pursue, and the ideal setting for human community. Scriptural commentary was the forum in which they addressed these problems and posed solutions to them. A work of intellectual history, The Land Is Mine demonstrates that it is impossible to understand Jewish culture without considering the physical realities on which it depended. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/jewish-studies

After their expulsion from Spain in 1492, Sephardi Jews such as Isaac Abravanel, Abraham Saba, and Isaac Arama wrote biblical commentaries that stressed the significance of land. They interpreted Judaism as a tradition whose best expression and ultimate fulfillment took place away from cities and in rural settings. Iberian-Jewish authors rooted their moral teachings in an ethical treatment of the natural world, elucidating ancient agricultural laws and scrutinizing the physical context and built environments of Bible stories. The Land Is Mine: Sephardi Jews and Bible Commentary in the Renaissance (U Pennsylvania Press, 2022) asks what inspired this and suggests that the answer lies not in timeless exegetical or theological trends, but in the material realities of late medieval and early modern Iberia, during a period of drastic changes in land use. The book uses a highly traditional source base in a decidedly untraditional way. In Jewish Studies, Andrew D. Berns observes, biblical commentary is typically studied as an intramural activity. Though scholars have conceded that Jewish scriptural exegesis welcomes material and ideas from other fields and traditions, little to no work treats premodern Hebrew Bible commentary as also drawing upon Classical and Christian sources as well as contemporary writings on land management and political economy. Abravanel, Saba, and Arama were engaged with questions that had broad resonance during their lives: the proper way to treat the land, the best occupations to pursue, and the ideal setting for human community. Scriptural commentary was the forum in which they addressed these problems and posed solutions to them. A work of intellectual history, The Land Is Mine demonstrates that it is impossible to understand Jewish culture without considering the physical realities on which it depended. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/intellectual-history

After their expulsion from Spain in 1492, Sephardi Jews such as Isaac Abravanel, Abraham Saba, and Isaac Arama wrote biblical commentaries that stressed the significance of land. They interpreted Judaism as a tradition whose best expression and ultimate fulfillment took place away from cities and in rural settings. Iberian-Jewish authors rooted their moral teachings in an ethical treatment of the natural world, elucidating ancient agricultural laws and scrutinizing the physical context and built environments of Bible stories. The Land Is Mine: Sephardi Jews and Bible Commentary in the Renaissance (U Pennsylvania Press, 2022) asks what inspired this and suggests that the answer lies not in timeless exegetical or theological trends, but in the material realities of late medieval and early modern Iberia, during a period of drastic changes in land use. The book uses a highly traditional source base in a decidedly untraditional way. In Jewish Studies, Andrew D. Berns observes, biblical commentary is typically studied as an intramural activity. Though scholars have conceded that Jewish scriptural exegesis welcomes material and ideas from other fields and traditions, little to no work treats premodern Hebrew Bible commentary as also drawing upon Classical and Christian sources as well as contemporary writings on land management and political economy. Abravanel, Saba, and Arama were engaged with questions that had broad resonance during their lives: the proper way to treat the land, the best occupations to pursue, and the ideal setting for human community. Scriptural commentary was the forum in which they addressed these problems and posed solutions to them. A work of intellectual history, The Land Is Mine demonstrates that it is impossible to understand Jewish culture without considering the physical realities on which it depended. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

After their expulsion from Spain in 1492, Sephardi Jews such as Isaac Abravanel, Abraham Saba, and Isaac Arama wrote biblical commentaries that stressed the significance of land. They interpreted Judaism as a tradition whose best expression and ultimate fulfillment took place away from cities and in rural settings. Iberian-Jewish authors rooted their moral teachings in an ethical treatment of the natural world, elucidating ancient agricultural laws and scrutinizing the physical context and built environments of Bible stories. The Land Is Mine: Sephardi Jews and Bible Commentary in the Renaissance (U Pennsylvania Press, 2022) asks what inspired this and suggests that the answer lies not in timeless exegetical or theological trends, but in the material realities of late medieval and early modern Iberia, during a period of drastic changes in land use. The book uses a highly traditional source base in a decidedly untraditional way. In Jewish Studies, Andrew D. Berns observes, biblical commentary is typically studied as an intramural activity. Though scholars have conceded that Jewish scriptural exegesis welcomes material and ideas from other fields and traditions, little to no work treats premodern Hebrew Bible commentary as also drawing upon Classical and Christian sources as well as contemporary writings on land management and political economy. Abravanel, Saba, and Arama were engaged with questions that had broad resonance during their lives: the proper way to treat the land, the best occupations to pursue, and the ideal setting for human community. Scriptural commentary was the forum in which they addressed these problems and posed solutions to them. A work of intellectual history, The Land Is Mine demonstrates that it is impossible to understand Jewish culture without considering the physical realities on which it depended. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/european-studies

After their expulsion from Spain in 1492, Sephardi Jews such as Isaac Abravanel, Abraham Saba, and Isaac Arama wrote biblical commentaries that stressed the significance of land. They interpreted Judaism as a tradition whose best expression and ultimate fulfillment took place away from cities and in rural settings. Iberian-Jewish authors rooted their moral teachings in an ethical treatment of the natural world, elucidating ancient agricultural laws and scrutinizing the physical context and built environments of Bible stories. The Land Is Mine: Sephardi Jews and Bible Commentary in the Renaissance (U Pennsylvania Press, 2022) asks what inspired this and suggests that the answer lies not in timeless exegetical or theological trends, but in the material realities of late medieval and early modern Iberia, during a period of drastic changes in land use. The book uses a highly traditional source base in a decidedly untraditional way. In Jewish Studies, Andrew D. Berns observes, biblical commentary is typically studied as an intramural activity. Though scholars have conceded that Jewish scriptural exegesis welcomes material and ideas from other fields and traditions, little to no work treats premodern Hebrew Bible commentary as also drawing upon Classical and Christian sources as well as contemporary writings on land management and political economy. Abravanel, Saba, and Arama were engaged with questions that had broad resonance during their lives: the proper way to treat the land, the best occupations to pursue, and the ideal setting for human community. Scriptural commentary was the forum in which they addressed these problems and posed solutions to them. A work of intellectual history, The Land Is Mine demonstrates that it is impossible to understand Jewish culture without considering the physical realities on which it depended. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/biblical-studies

After their expulsion from Spain in 1492, Sephardi Jews such as Isaac Abravanel, Abraham Saba, and Isaac Arama wrote biblical commentaries that stressed the significance of land. They interpreted Judaism as a tradition whose best expression and ultimate fulfillment took place away from cities and in rural settings. Iberian-Jewish authors rooted their moral teachings in an ethical treatment of the natural world, elucidating ancient agricultural laws and scrutinizing the physical context and built environments of Bible stories. The Land Is Mine: Sephardi Jews and Bible Commentary in the Renaissance (U Pennsylvania Press, 2022) asks what inspired this and suggests that the answer lies not in timeless exegetical or theological trends, but in the material realities of late medieval and early modern Iberia, during a period of drastic changes in land use. The book uses a highly traditional source base in a decidedly untraditional way. In Jewish Studies, Andrew D. Berns observes, biblical commentary is typically studied as an intramural activity. Though scholars have conceded that Jewish scriptural exegesis welcomes material and ideas from other fields and traditions, little to no work treats premodern Hebrew Bible commentary as also drawing upon Classical and Christian sources as well as contemporary writings on land management and political economy. Abravanel, Saba, and Arama were engaged with questions that had broad resonance during their lives: the proper way to treat the land, the best occupations to pursue, and the ideal setting for human community. Scriptural commentary was the forum in which they addressed these problems and posed solutions to them. A work of intellectual history, The Land Is Mine demonstrates that it is impossible to understand Jewish culture without considering the physical realities on which it depended. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In existing scholarship on Jewish subjects of the Russian Empire, there were three typical fates available to Russia's Jews on the eve of the Bolshevik Revolution: they could remain in the shtetl, leave for a new life in America, or participate in the Russian Revolution.  Tevye's Ottoman Daughter: Ashkenazi and Sephardi Jews at the End of Empire (Libra Kitap, 2022) traces a fourth path, following the saga of Ashkenazi Jews who instead crossed the Black Sea to join their Sephardic coreligionists in the Ottoman capital of Constantinople and later Istanbul, or who joined agricultural farming communities in the Western Aegean sponsored by the Baron Maurice de Hirsch's Jewish Colonization Association. There, they considered, and reconsidered, the possibilities open to them, including eventual migration to Palestine, Western Europe, North America, and Argentina, Others stayed and forged a new life as an Ashkenazi minority in Istanbul, creating new organizations, places of worship, and political practices. These Russian Jewish migrants give us insight into the ethnic, religious, and political challenges as well as aspirations during the twilight years of the Ottoman Empire on the brink of Turkish statehood. Sarah M. Zaides received her PhD from the Department of History at the University of Washington, where she currently serves as the Associate Director of the Stroum Center for Jewish Studies. Makena Mezistrano is a PhD student in the Department of History at Stanford University where she studies Ladino-speaking Sephardic Jews in the modern Ottoman and post-Ottoman context. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

In existing scholarship on Jewish subjects of the Russian Empire, there were three typical fates available to Russia's Jews on the eve of the Bolshevik Revolution: they could remain in the shtetl, leave for a new life in America, or participate in the Russian Revolution.  Tevye's Ottoman Daughter: Ashkenazi and Sephardi Jews at the End of Empire (Libra Kitap, 2022) traces a fourth path, following the saga of Ashkenazi Jews who instead crossed the Black Sea to join their Sephardic coreligionists in the Ottoman capital of Constantinople and later Istanbul, or who joined agricultural farming communities in the Western Aegean sponsored by the Baron Maurice de Hirsch's Jewish Colonization Association. There, they considered, and reconsidered, the possibilities open to them, including eventual migration to Palestine, Western Europe, North America, and Argentina, Others stayed and forged a new life as an Ashkenazi minority in Istanbul, creating new organizations, places of worship, and political practices. These Russian Jewish migrants give us insight into the ethnic, religious, and political challenges as well as aspirations during the twilight years of the Ottoman Empire on the brink of Turkish statehood. Sarah M. Zaides received her PhD from the Department of History at the University of Washington, where she currently serves as the Associate Director of the Stroum Center for Jewish Studies. Makena Mezistrano is a PhD student in the Department of History at Stanford University where she studies Ladino-speaking Sephardic Jews in the modern Ottoman and post-Ottoman context. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

In existing scholarship on Jewish subjects of the Russian Empire, there were three typical fates available to Russia's Jews on the eve of the Bolshevik Revolution: they could remain in the shtetl, leave for a new life in America, or participate in the Russian Revolution.  Tevye's Ottoman Daughter: Ashkenazi and Sephardi Jews at the End of Empire (Libra Kitap, 2022) traces a fourth path, following the saga of Ashkenazi Jews who instead crossed the Black Sea to join their Sephardic coreligionists in the Ottoman capital of Constantinople and later Istanbul, or who joined agricultural farming communities in the Western Aegean sponsored by the Baron Maurice de Hirsch's Jewish Colonization Association. There, they considered, and reconsidered, the possibilities open to them, including eventual migration to Palestine, Western Europe, North America, and Argentina, Others stayed and forged a new life as an Ashkenazi minority in Istanbul, creating new organizations, places of worship, and political practices. These Russian Jewish migrants give us insight into the ethnic, religious, and political challenges as well as aspirations during the twilight years of the Ottoman Empire on the brink of Turkish statehood. Sarah M. Zaides received her PhD from the Department of History at the University of Washington, where she currently serves as the Associate Director of the Stroum Center for Jewish Studies. Makena Mezistrano is a PhD student in the Department of History at Stanford University where she studies Ladino-speaking Sephardic Jews in the modern Ottoman and post-Ottoman context. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/jewish-studies

In existing scholarship on Jewish subjects of the Russian Empire, there were three typical fates available to Russia's Jews on the eve of the Bolshevik Revolution: they could remain in the shtetl, leave for a new life in America, or participate in the Russian Revolution.  Tevye's Ottoman Daughter: Ashkenazi and Sephardi Jews at the End of Empire (Libra Kitap, 2022) traces a fourth path, following the saga of Ashkenazi Jews who instead crossed the Black Sea to join their Sephardic coreligionists in the Ottoman capital of Constantinople and later Istanbul, or who joined agricultural farming communities in the Western Aegean sponsored by the Baron Maurice de Hirsch's Jewish Colonization Association. There, they considered, and reconsidered, the possibilities open to them, including eventual migration to Palestine, Western Europe, North America, and Argentina, Others stayed and forged a new life as an Ashkenazi minority in Istanbul, creating new organizations, places of worship, and political practices. These Russian Jewish migrants give us insight into the ethnic, religious, and political challenges as well as aspirations during the twilight years of the Ottoman Empire on the brink of Turkish statehood. Sarah M. Zaides received her PhD from the Department of History at the University of Washington, where she currently serves as the Associate Director of the Stroum Center for Jewish Studies. Makena Mezistrano is a PhD student in the Department of History at Stanford University where she studies Ladino-speaking Sephardic Jews in the modern Ottoman and post-Ottoman context. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/middle-eastern-studies

In existing scholarship on Jewish subjects of the Russian Empire, there were three typical fates available to Russia's Jews on the eve of the Bolshevik Revolution: they could remain in the shtetl, leave for a new life in America, or participate in the Russian Revolution.  Tevye's Ottoman Daughter: Ashkenazi and Sephardi Jews at the End of Empire (Libra Kitap, 2022) traces a fourth path, following the saga of Ashkenazi Jews who instead crossed the Black Sea to join their Sephardic coreligionists in the Ottoman capital of Constantinople and later Istanbul, or who joined agricultural farming communities in the Western Aegean sponsored by the Baron Maurice de Hirsch's Jewish Colonization Association. There, they considered, and reconsidered, the possibilities open to them, including eventual migration to Palestine, Western Europe, North America, and Argentina, Others stayed and forged a new life as an Ashkenazi minority in Istanbul, creating new organizations, places of worship, and political practices. These Russian Jewish migrants give us insight into the ethnic, religious, and political challenges as well as aspirations during the twilight years of the Ottoman Empire on the brink of Turkish statehood. Sarah M. Zaides received her PhD from the Department of History at the University of Washington, where she currently serves as the Associate Director of the Stroum Center for Jewish Studies. Makena Mezistrano is a PhD student in the Department of History at Stanford University where she studies Ladino-speaking Sephardic Jews in the modern Ottoman and post-Ottoman context. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/russian-studies

In existing scholarship on Jewish subjects of the Russian Empire, there were three typical fates available to Russia's Jews on the eve of the Bolshevik Revolution: they could remain in the shtetl, leave for a new life in America, or participate in the Russian Revolution.  Tevye's Ottoman Daughter: Ashkenazi and Sephardi Jews at the End of Empire (Libra Kitap, 2022) traces a fourth path, following the saga of Ashkenazi Jews who instead crossed the Black Sea to join their Sephardic coreligionists in the Ottoman capital of Constantinople and later Istanbul, or who joined agricultural farming communities in the Western Aegean sponsored by the Baron Maurice de Hirsch's Jewish Colonization Association. There, they considered, and reconsidered, the possibilities open to them, including eventual migration to Palestine, Western Europe, North America, and Argentina, Others stayed and forged a new life as an Ashkenazi minority in Istanbul, creating new organizations, places of worship, and political practices. These Russian Jewish migrants give us insight into the ethnic, religious, and political challenges as well as aspirations during the twilight years of the Ottoman Empire on the brink of Turkish statehood. Sarah M. Zaides received her PhD from the Department of History at the University of Washington, where she currently serves as the Associate Director of the Stroum Center for Jewish Studies. Makena Mezistrano is a PhD student in the Department of History at Stanford University where she studies Ladino-speaking Sephardic Jews in the modern Ottoman and post-Ottoman context. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/eastern-european-studies

On this week's podcast, host Laurie Cardoza Moore welcomes back Yaffah Batya daCosta to learn more about the history of the Roman Catholic Church's persecution of the Sephardi Jews of Spain and Portugal. How did these events relate to the early history of the "Cancel Culture" in the 2nd-century Greco-Roman era? We'll answer those questions and more in today's episode!

Financier, philanthropist, and longtime president of the World Sephardi Federation Nessim Gaon was proud of the Sudanese birthright that made him part of a long lineage of Jews from Arab lands. However, with growing antisemitism in Sudan, he also believed Israel offered the only safe haven for Jews around the world and devoted his life to constantly improving the Zionist project.  Gaon's oldest grandchild, Dr. Alexandra Herzog, deputy director of Contemporary Jewish Life for American Jewish Committee, shares the story of her grandfather's flight from Sudan, his quest for equality in Israel, and his pursuit of peace between the Jewish state and Arab nations that led to the historic 1979 accord between Israel and Egypt. Along with Dr. Herzog, oral historian Daisy Abboudi describes great changes in Sudan that take place during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, which saw the country emerge from a period of Islamic extremism to a land of possibilities for Jewish pioneers. However, this brief window of openness closes once again as Gaon's cousins, Diana Krief and Flore Eleini, describe how following Israel's victory in the 1967 Six-Day War, Sudan once again became a terrifying place to be a Jew.  ___ Show notes: Sign up to receive podcast updates here. Learn more about the series here. Song credits:  Saza Niye Glemedin; Penceresi Yola Karsi: all by Turku, Nomads of the Silk Road Pond5:  “Desert Caravans”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI), Composer: Tiemur Zarobov (BMI), IPI#1098108837 “Hatikvah (National Anthem Of Israel, Electric Guitar)”; Composer: Composer: Eli Sibony; ID#122561081 “Frontiers”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI); Composer: Pete Checkley (BMI), IPI#380407375 “Adventures in the East”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Beta (BMI) Composer: Petar Milinkovic (BMI), IPI#00738313833. “A Middle East Lament”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Alpha (ASCAP); Composer: Dan Cullen (PRS), IPI#551977321 “Mystic Anatolia”: Publisher: Pond5 Publishing Alpha (ASCAP); Composer: Okan Akdeniz (MSG), IPI#37747892568 “Modern Middle Eastern Underscore”: Publisher: All Pro Audio LLC (611803484); Composer: Alan T Fagan (347654928) “Fields Of Elysium”; Publisher: Mysterylab Music; Composer: Mott Jordan; ID#79549862 ___ Episode Transcript: ALEXANDRA HERZOG: Oftentimes, I asked him, would you want to go visit Sudan? If you could, would you? And you know, he would tell me, ‘Well, I have this image in my head. And I want to keep it that way.' And I think that it was so loaded for him in terms of memories, in terms of, you know, vibrancy of life and I think he wanted to keep it as this frozen image. MANYA BRACHEAR PASHMAN: The world has overlooked an important episode in modern history: the 800,000 Jews who left or were driven from their homes in Arab nations and Iran in the mid-20th century. This series, brought to you by American Jewish Committee, explores that pivotal moment in Jewish history and the rich Jewish heritage of Iran and Arab nations as some begin to build relations with Israel. I'm your host, Manya Brachear Pashman. Join us as we explore family histories and personal stories of courage, perseverance, and resilience.  This is The Forgotten Exodus. Today's episode: Leaving Sudan MANYA: When Diana Krief and her 95-year-old mother Flore Eleini look back on their family's life in Sudan, they conjure dark memories. Flore remembers enjoying afternoon tea outside with her mother-in-law when soldiers armed with bayonets stormed the garden. FLORE ELEINI: Life was normal, life was good. And then, little by little. it deteriorated. We were the very, very last Jews to stay in the Sudan. And then, after the Six Day War, of course, they came, you know, in the street, they were shouting, kill, kill, kill, kill the Jews, kill, kill, kill the Jews. And one day, I thought it was our end. MANYA: Her daughter Diana remembers soldiers raiding their house and posters of decapitated Jews outside their home. DIANA KRIEF: It's actually by others that I came to know that I was Jewish, that I was a Jew, you know, born in a Jewish family. They used to come in front of the house with posters of Jews in the Mediterranean Sea with their heads cut off, and blood everywhere. That's the first time I had actually seen the land of Israel. I didn't know that we had a land before.  And it was “itbah” the whole time. And even when we would put the radio on, they would sing“itbah itbah al yahud.” That means “slaughter, slaughter the Jews”. And this always stayed in my memory. MANYA: In 1968, Flore and Diana were among the last Jews to flee Khartoum, the capital city of Sudan. They followed a path to Geneva blazed by Flore's cousin, Nessim Gaon, a financier and philanthropist born and raised in Sudan who had moved from Khartoum to Switzerland a decade earlier.  Gaon, who died in May 2022 at the age of 100, was a legend in modern Jewish history. As a longtime president of the World Sephardi Federation, he worked to raise the profile of Sephardic Jews around the world and level the playing field for them in Israel – where Arabic speaking Mizrahi and Sephardi Jews were often looked down upon.  On the contrary, Gaon believed they offered Israel a gift – a link between the Jewish state and their former homes in the Arab world. Gaon himself offered a shining example. He persuaded his dear friend, Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin to meet with Egyptian President Anwar el-Sadat, which led to the historic 1979 accord between Israel and Egypt – the first peace treaty between Israel and an Arab nation. ALEXANDRA: For him when Israel was built, it really was like a miracle. He really, truly believed in the possibilities that Israel could offer. He also realized that Sephardic Jews could play a role in creating a bridge between Israel and the Arab countries, and that they would be able to help in creating peace or at least creating dialogue between some of those countries. And that's really what he did in his conversations with Anwar el-Sadat and Menachem Begin.  MANYA: That's Gaon's oldest grandchild, Dr. Alexandra Herzog, who now serves as the deputy director of Contemporary Jewish Life for American Jewish Committee. As her last name indicates, her mother Marguerite, Gaon's daughter, married into the Herzog dynasty. Alexandra's paternal grandfather was former Israeli president Chaim Herzog, and her uncle Isaac Herzog, is the Israeli president today.  But in addition to that proud legacy, Alexandra is especially proud of the impact her maternal grandfather made in helping Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews – a slight majority of Israel's Jewish population, but a significant majority of its Jewish poor – thrive, succeed, and lead in the Jewish state. Gaon was the driving force behind Project Renewal, an initiative launched in the 1970s to rehabilitate some of Israel's most distressed neighborhoods and improve education and social services there. He developed a bar mitzvah program that provided the education, ceremony, and gifts for thousands of underprivileged boys. And tens of thousands of young Sephardi leaders from impoverished neighborhoods received university scholarships. ALEXANDRA: A lot of the people who came out of this program are actually mayors or members of the Knesset – important people in Israel who actually have, as a ripple effect, a strong impact on the lives of other people as well. MANYA: The history of Sudan's once tiny and tight-knit Jewish community is limited to the late 19th and early 20th centuries – a brief window when it was safe to be Jewish in that Northeast African country. But the Sudanese diaspora's connection to that country runs unusually deep.  Sudan, Egypt's neighbor to the south, was much more than a waystation during the age of migration. It was a land of possibilities. Even if their forefathers spent centuries elsewhere, their descendants today often identify with the fleeting generations spent in Sudan. DAISY ABBOUDI: If you speak to people who were there, and you say, where are you from, they will say, Sudan, in a very proud, but definitive way. MANYA: That's Daisy Abboudi, a London-based oral historian of Sudanese Jewish history, who began her career by interviewing her own grandparents. DAISY: Sudanese is very much part of their identity and their descendants kind of focus on Sudan. And I know, there's this kind of phenomena from around the Middle East – a kind of nostalgia of looking back. There's kind of an inherited nostalgia that exists as well. But it's particularly strong in Sudan for a country where people didn't have thousands of years of roots. And I'm kind of always wondering, why? Why has it got this pull? MANYA: The reason could be embedded in the history of Sudan and the pioneering spirit of the Jews who landed in this rustic pocket of Northeast Africa, where the Blue and White Nile Rivers converged, the constellations shone brightly in the night sky, and the scent of jasmine and gardenia floated in the air. In the early 19th century, Sudanese and Egyptian residents lived under Ottoman rule. Jews in Egypt – and the few there might have been in Sudan – faced harsh taxes. But that changed toward the end of the 19th century, as the Ottoman Empire fell, and British forces took over Egypt, before moving south. With them came Christian missionaries who intended to “civilize” the tribes there. An opposition and independence movement began to build, led by a self-proclaimed Mahdi, who claimed to be the foretold redeemer of the Islamic nation. The 1966 epic film, Khartoum, depicts the infamous 1884 Siege of Khartoum, in which the Mahdi, portrayed by Hollywood superstar Laurence Olivier, defeated the popular British General Charles Gordon, played by another Hollywood legend of Ten Commandments fame, Charlton Heston. DAISY: When this independence movement starts, it's led by a man who calls himself the Mahdi, which means the kind of chosen one, and he wins, basically. He conquers Sudan quite quickly and then promptly dies of malaria and his successor takes over. But this period of independence, once it was established, is called the Mahdia, after the Mahdi.  It was an Islamic state, basically in that it was quite extremist. All the non-Muslim people living in Sudan had to convert to Islam. This was a law that was targeted at the missionaries who were there, but of course these Jews that were living there got caught up in that policy. MANYA: When the British conquered the Mahdi in 1898, that conversion law was revoked, and some converts reverted back to Judaism. The British built a railway line to supply the army and connect Egypt to Khartoum, the capital of the dual British-Egyptian colony. And soon, Sudan became a destination for Jewish families who sought to build economic opportunities from the ground up. DAISY: It was a kind of a mercantile community, a lot of shops, import-exports, cloth, gum Arabic, hibiscus. A couple of families grew and then traded hibiscus, which was like the main ingredient in cough syrup at the time. Don't forget, at that time, Sudan was very new – Khartoum especially, in terms of on the map in terms of European consciousness, obviously not new in terms of how long it's actually been there. But it was kind of seen or perceived as this new frontier. It was a bit off the beaten track.  There wasn't the mod cons or luxuries even of the day. So, it was people who were willing to take a little bit of a risk and dive into the unknown who would actually go to Sudan. MANYA: According to historian Naham Ilan, though the community was deeply traditional, it was largely secular and introduced many of Sudan's modern conveniences.  Morris Goldenberg from Cairo was the first optician in Khartoum. Jimmy and Toni Cain, refugees from Germany, ran a music hall and cabaret. Jewish students attended private Christian schools. By 1906, the Jewish community of Egypt invited Rabbi Solomon Malka, a Moroccan rabbi who was ordained in British Mandate Palestine, to lead Sudan's Jewish community. He was supposed to stay for only a few years, but instead stayed and purchased his own manufacturing plants, producing sesame oil and macaroni. His son Eli would later write the foundational history of the community titled Jacob's Children in the Land of the Mahdi: Jews of the Sudan. DAISY: When Rabbi Malka came, he was the shochet, he was the mohel, he was the rabbi. He was everything, it was a one-man band. The community was already kind of focused in Khartoum in 1928 when the synagogue was built. The club was built in 1947. I think the peak in terms of numbers of the community was early to mid-1950s. And that was about 250 families. So even at its peak, it was a very small community. MANYA: Community is the key word. Everyone knew each other, looked out for each other, and when Israel was created in 1948, they raised money to help some of their fellow Jews seek opportunities in that new frontier. Those who left weren't fleeing Sudan – not yet. That shift didn't happen for at least another decade. When things did start to turn, Nessim Gaon would lead the exodus. He had seen what could happen when Jews ignored warning signs and stayed where they were unwelcome for too long. Gaon's family arrived in the early 20th Century when his father got a job working as a clerk for the British governor of Port Sudan. Gaon was born in Khartoum in 1922. ALEXANDRA: As for a lot of Sephardi families, they basically moved with opportunities and changes of power in different countries. So they went from Spain, to Italy, back to Spain. And then they went into the Arab lands. So I know that they went into Iraq, then they went into Turkey. And they spent quite some time actually in Turkey, until they finally went to Sudan and Egypt. MANYA: As a young man, Gaon left to attend the London School of Economics. Shortly after he returned, he encountered British officers recruiting soldiers to fight for Winston Churchill's campaign against the Nazis.  ALEXANDRA: He just went in, signed up, and the next day, he was sent to the front. His family was not so excited about that. And he was actually under age, he wasn't really supposed to be able to sign up at that time. But when they figured out his age, you know, in the army, it was already too late. He just felt that he needed to be useful and do something. And that's what he did.  MANYA: Though he knew about the uneasy life for Jews in Sudan preceding his family's arrival there, what Gaon witnessed during World War II while stationed in places like Iraq ensured he would never take for granted his safety as a Jew. ALEXANDRA: Even though he never spoke about all of the things that he saw in great detail, he did a lot after the war, to help survivors go to Israel. It was very important to him to try to help those who had survived to actually go into a place of safety. He knew what it meant to be a Jew in danger. MANYA: Gaon and his future wife of 68 years, Renee [Tamman], exchanged letters every day when he was away at war and kept every single one. And after his return, from that point on, they never spent more than three days apart. The couple soon began to build their family. But because of rudimentary medical care in Sudan, it was difficult. Three of their children died before their daughter Marguerite was born in 1956. They were buried in Khartoum's Jewish cemetery. Sudan became independent in 1956. But the ties to Egypt ran deep. Later that year, when French, British, and Israeli forces attacked Egypt over Gamel Abdel Nasser's nationalization of the Suez Canal, the anti-Jewish tensions trickled south. DAISY: The Suez Crisis, in the end of 1956, kind of spikes a bit of antisemitism. There is a talk in the newspapers about antisemitism, Zionist things, plots. There were a few things that made life slightly more difficult, but not in a very impactful way on daily life. MANYA: There were other signs too. When the winner of the Miss Khartoum beauty pageant was discovered to be Jewish, she lost her crown. When Jews had matza imported from London for Passover, it had to be packaged in plain boxes without a Magen David. Given what Gaon had witnessed in World War II, that was enough to leave. He, his wife, and only daughter at the time went to Geneva. ALEXANDRA: That was a blooming community, they were happy, they were together. And they were able to create and expand on their Jewish life. And I think that, at some point, when it became clear, when they saw the signs of that antisemitism coming their way again, they just felt like, “OK, we've seen this before, not just in Sudan, but also from the history of the Holocaust. And we need to take proactive measures, and make sure that we're safe. MANYA: When they left, Gaon and his wife told no one. They packed only enough bags for a vacation. They even left the doors unlocked and food in the refrigerator so no one dropping by their home would get suspicious. ALEXANDRA:  My grandmother always told us how some part of her broke a little when they just left the house. They really pretended that they were just going out and they would come back. They would tell us how hard it was when they turned and they looked at the house the last time and they knew that they had left most of their things. That they had a whole history there. That they had children there who were still going to be there and it was really difficult. And so, they took everything [with] them, left to Switzerland, and made a life there. MANYA: The decade that followed was particularly tumultuous in Sudan. The country had its first coup of many, and a military government took over. In 1960, all of the Jews who had left Sudan had their citizenship revoked. Another revolution in 1964 restored civilian rule.  DAISY: It's at that time, that a lot of the north-south tension kind of comes into things. And there was a lot of violence in that revolution, a lot of rioting. And the violence was tribal, north-south tribalism, a lot of violence against southern tribes, people from the South in Sudan.  But that scared the Jewish community that there would be violence and murders in the streets, and that signaled that this was no longer this stable country that they had been living in. And that's when more people start to leave. MANYA: By this point, acquiring an exit visa had become difficult for Jews, especially those who owned businesses and properties. Much like Gaon and his wife had left under cover of vacation, people began acquiring tourist visas with return tickets they never used. In the summer of 1967, the Six-Day War became a flashpoint in Khartoum. DAISY: There was a lot of rhetoric against Jews, in the newspapers, accusations of Zionism, Zionist spies, slurs, the lot. The Jewish young men who didn't know the right people to avoid it, were arrested for the duration of the war, and then released subsequently. And then after the Six Day War, the Arab League Summit, and the declaration of the three Nos. That actually happened in Khartoum, so you can imagine the atmosphere in Khartoum at that time was not pleasant. MANYA: The Three Nos. No peace with Israel, No recognition of Israel, No negotiations with Israel. These were the pillars of the Khartoum Resolution, the Arab world's proclamation denying self-determination for the Jewish people in their biblical homeland. The Arab League Summit convened in Khartoum on August 29, 1967 and the resolution was adopted days later. Flore recalls how Muslim friends and colleagues suddenly turned on them. Returning home from a trip, her husband Ibrahim's business partner brought back a framed picture and insisted that Ibrahim read its engraved inscription out loud: “The world will not have peace until the last Jew is put to death by stoning,” it said. Another friend asked Flore one day where she hid the device she used to communicate with Israel, implying she was a spy. During a visit to Geneva, Ibrahim was warned not to return because there was a price on his head. Flore said their delayed departure was a source of tension between her and her husband, who even for years afterward, couldn't believe his beloved Sudan had betrayed them. But the time had come for most Jews, including the extended family that Nessim Gaon had left behind, to abandon their homes and fortunes in Sudan and join him. FLORE: My husband had confidence in them. And we had a lot of problems between my husband and me because of this. Because I said ‘Ibrahim, this is not a country for us.' He says: ‘You don't know anything. They won't harm us. They won't do that.' He had confidence, he couldn't believe it. Until my husband became very old. He died at the age of 94. And he always, always, in his heart, he said that they cannot harm us. But he had illusions. He had illusions. MANYA: The Gaons also could not return. It was simply too dangerous. But in the 1970s, when Nessim Gaon learned vandals might have desecrated the Jewish cemetery in Khartoum, he resolved to retrieve their children and other family members who were buried there. From a distance, he coordinated an airlift for several prominent Sudanese families, including Rabbi Malka's descendants, to transfer the remains of their loved ones out of Sudan to be reburied in Jerusalem where he knew they would be safer. It was this sincere belief about the promise of Israel and the promise of peace in the region that led Gaon to encourage and attend a meeting between Menachem Begin and Anwar el-Sadat in 1977. ALEXANDRA: He saw opportunities there to create a peace with Egypt and he told Menachem Begin we can create peace with the Arab countries. And so Menachem Begin took him to meet with Anwar el-Sadat. They had a meeting and they hit it off right away, because they spoke the same language, they came from the same place.  MANYA: Over the next two years, Gaon worked discreetly in the background to ease both of their minds, find common ground, and reach a consensus. When the two leaders were ready to sign a treaty in 1979, Gaon gave them both the Swiss pens they used to make it official.  ALEXANDRA: They actually called him first thing after signing, and told him: ‘Nessim, it happened. We did it.' And, you know, it was something that he was very proud of, but that we were not really allowed to talk about in the outside.  He truly believed in the possibilities, in the outcome. That's what he focused on. He wanted to better the lives of people both in Israel and in Egypt, and he cared about, you know, the Sephardi Jews that were part of that narrative as well. MANYA: Sudan was one of only two Arab nations who supported the accord. Egypt was suspended from the Arab League for ten years and el-Sadat was assassinated in 1981.  Still, Gaon never stopped trying to pave the way for more peace negotiations. In fact, much later Israel tapped him to meet privately with Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat. Unfortunately, the outcome was not the same. ALEXANDRA: We did not really want him to go and meet with Arafat because we were worried. I mean, Arafat had a long history of terrorism and we were a little bit scared. Arafat actually told him that at some point, there was a murder order on his head. They were considering killing my grandfather. And they decided not to, because he realized that he was an Arab like him. When my grandfather told us about this, we all went like, [gasp], what are you saying? But he was very calm about it. And he said: ‘You know, I, I stood there and Arafat told [me], I knew that you were doing a lot of good things. And you know, you were not doing anything bad towards the Arab populations. And you are very respectful. This is your background as well. And so we decided not to go ahead with it.' But I think my grandfather found it very difficult to talk to Arafat. And Arafat was not ready to make peace. MANYA: By this time Gaon had become a grandfather, Alexandra's Nono – the one who taught her how to whistle and play backgammon. The one who blessed her before long trips. The one who taught her his first language, Arabic. The one who passed down his love for the beauty of Sephardic Jewry and his concern about it being overshadowed and undervalued around the world and in Israel. ALEXANDRA: He was so idealistic about Israel, and really believed in it and thought it was such an important project. He also was very critical of it in terms of its treatment of Sephardic Jews. He was very sensitive to it, and he really worked hard to change that.  He was a little bit darker skinned. And he came from Sudan, he was born there. So he saw himself really, as a Sephardic Jew who had the opportunity here to educate this new country and to help this new country understand how Sephardic Jews could actually help and be positive agents within the country. MANYA: He also believed that the Jewish world must acknowledge and respect its own rich diversity for the benefit of everyone – Jewish, non-Jewish, Israeli or Diaspora. As president of the World Sephardi Federation, he traveled the world to encourage others to step up and show that Jewish history is not just an Eastern European, Ashkenazi narrative. ALEXANDRA: The more you're open to people who come from a different background, the more you also know how to interact with non-Jews and with countries that are maybe antagonistic to you. I think that it was a way for him to sort of bridge conflict to say: if you make an effort within the Jewish people, then you learn how to talk to everybody. MANYA: Daisy Abboudi said telling the stories of Sephardic and Mizrahi Jews is complicated. Are they migrants? Are they refugees? What do they want to be called, and why? And then there's the ambivalence some Israelis have had about welcoming all Jews, some of whom still feel affection for nations that wish Israel did not exist. In their eyes, it's a fine line between affection and loyalty. DAISY: It's not an easily packaged short story. It feeds into so many different kinds of strands and politics and it's such a messy period of history anyway, with colonialism and the end of colonialism and nationalism, and, and, and, and. I think it is too big and too much for people to kind of get their heads around. And so people just don't. MANYA: But Gaon believed that leveling the playing field and making sure everyone has equal opportunities to education and leadership is where it starts. As part of Project Renewal, he often walked the streets of the most distressed neighborhoods in Israel to hear firsthand what residents there needed and advocated for them. In addition to the scholarships, bar mitzvah programs, and Project Renewal initiative, Gaon also held court at the King David Hotel whenever he traveled to Jerusalem. Sephardi residents would line up around the block to meet the man who invested and believed in them. ALEXANDRA: Years later, when he was quite influential, he got a letter from the Sudanese government to tell him that they would love it if he took back the nationality. At the time, he decided not to.  He wanted to keep the memories and the life that he had in Sudan and all of the legacy of Sudan without specifically being connected to a government or a political situation that he disagreed with and that was difficult and unpleasant to Jews. I know that oftentimes, I asked him, would you want to go visit Sudan? If you could, would you? And you know, he would tell me, ‘Well, I have this image in my head. And I want to keep it that way.' And I think that it was so loaded for him in terms of memories, in terms of, you know, vibrancy of life and what he experienced, and I think he wanted to leave it that way, and not be sort of surprised or sad, or, shocked by the changes possibly. I think he wanted to keep it as this frozen image. I hope that one day I can go both to Sudan and to Egypt and see those places myself and get a sense of putting the pieces of the puzzle together and getting a sense of what life might have been. MANYA:  It's unclear when it will be safe for Jews to travel to Sudan again. Between November 1984 and January 1985, Sudanese, Israeli and U.S. officials worked with Gaon and Alexandra's father, Joel Herzog, to facilitate an airlift of thousands of Ethiopian Jews from refugee camps in Sudan to Israel. Operation Moses, as it was called, ended abruptly in January 1985 as soon as Sudan's Arab allies caught wind of the joint effort, stranding many Ethiopian Jews there. Some were eventually rescued, but not all.  ALEXANDRA: He not only helped fund the mission, which was very secretive, but he also took care of all of the details of the infrastructure from making sure that they could take a bus, to the plane, to a ship. He really took care of all of the details. And it was important to him because he wanted to make sure that fellow Jews would be in a place of safety. MANYA: Tribal conflict and civil wars also have continued. Feeling neglected by Khartoum, the largely agrarian South Sudan gained independence in 2011 after two civil wars. Warring factions within the South agreed to a coalition government in 2020.  Meanwhile, since 2003, millions of Darfuri men, women and children from three different ethnic groups have been targeted in what is considered the first genocide of the 21st Century – atrocities that continue today.  In 2019, Sudanese dictator Omar al-Bashir was pushed out of office by a series of peaceful protests. The following year, Sudan's fledgling civilian government announced its intentions to join the Abraham Accords as part of a larger effort to engage with the international community and secure international assistance. This included an agreement by the United States to remove Sudan from its state sponsor of terrorism list. But yet another military coup in 2021 derailed any efforts toward diplomacy and that plan was put on hold until a civilian government is restored.  Gaon died before seeing it become a reality.  ALEXANDRA: He really saw Sudan as his home. That was the place that he knew, that he grew up in. And I mean, again, he had gone to London before to study, he still came back to Sudan. You know, he went to war, he came back to Sudan and came with a lot of different layers of understanding of what it meant to be a Jew, in a lot of different countries, a lot of different places.  MANYA: Alexandra said he carried those layers and lessons with him throughout his life, as well as immense pride that he came from a long lineage of people living in Arab lands. For Nessim Gaon, the Jewish tradition was and always should be a big, diverse, inclusive tent. ALEXANDRA: One of the memories that really sticks with me is how during the Kohanim prayers at the synagogue, my grandfather would take his tallit, his prayer shawl, and put it on top of all of his children and grandchildren. And my grandmother would do the exact same thing with us in the women's section.  And of course, from time to time I would peek and look at this beautiful tent that was extended above all of my family members. And what was really special to me, was how we knew at that moment that we were being blessed by both my grandparents and that if someone was around and looked completely alone, they were welcomed under our tent.  And this really represents for me, what my grandparents were, they were warm. They were inclusive, loving and generous. And really they extended the tent, our family tent, to all the Jewish people. MANYA: Sudanese Jews are just one of the many Jewish communities who in the last century left Arab countries to forge new lives for themselves and future generations. Join us next week as we share another untold story of The Forgotten Exodus. Many thanks to Alexandra, Flore, and Diana for sharing their families' stories. Does your family have roots in North Africa or the Middle East? One of the goals of this series is to make sure we gather these stories before they are lost. Too many times during my reporting, I encountered children and grandchildren who didn't have the answers to my questions because they never asked. That's why one of the goals of this project is to encourage you to find more of these stories.  Call The Forgotten Exodus hotline. Tell us where your family is from and something you'd like for our listeners to know such as how you've tried to keep the traditions and memories alive. Call 212.891-1336 and leave a message of 2 minutes or less. Be sure to leave your name and where you live now. You can also send an email to theforgottenexodus@ajc.org and we'll be in touch. Tune in every Friday for AJC's weekly podcast about global affairs through a Jewish lens, People of the Pod, brought to you by the same team behind The Forgotten Exodus.  Atara Lakritz is our producer, CucHuong Do is our production manager. T.K. Broderick is our sound engineer. Special thanks to Jon Schweitzer, Sean Savage, Ian Kaplan, and so many of our colleagues, too many to name, for making this series possible. And extra special thanks to David Harris, who has been a constant champion for making sure these stories do not remain untold. You can follow The Forgotten Exodus on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts, and you can sign up to receive updates at AJC.org/forgottenexodussignup. The views and opinions of our guests don't necessarily reflect the positions of AJC.  You can reach us at theforgottenexodus@ajc.org. If you've enjoyed the episode, please be sure to spread the word, and hop onto Apple Podcasts to rate us and write a review to help more listeners find us.  

Jewish history professor Aron Rodrigue of Stanford University was the keynote speaker at an international conference held this week at the Van Leer Jerusalem Institute, dedicated to the Jewish history of Salonica. In the late 15th century, the then-Ottoman city (today the Greek city of Thessaloniki) welcomed large numbers of Sephardi Jews who had been expelled from Spain, making it very soon the largest Jewish city in Europe. A series of crises and disasters, culminating in the Nazi occupation in the 1940s, led to its ultimate destruction. This episode of the Tel Aviv Review was made possible by The Van Leer Jerusalem Institute, which promotes humanistic, democratic, and liberal values in the social discourse in Israel.

We're not taking you to church, but we are going to a monastery (you never thought we'd start a podcast with that one, I bet).  Join us, as we talk to Mother Katherine at the Holy Myrrhbearers Monastery in Otego, New York.  Join us, and over 50 sheep, 12 goats, 3 chickens, and a guardian dog.  And Mother Katherine runs the whole livestock department, if you believe that.One of the most interesting people we've ever met.  All that, and her fellow sisters knit a mean pair of woolen socks – to order.  Call them if you don't believe us, or if you want some, too.  (607) 432-3179Links:https://holymyrrhbearers.com/monastery.html https://www.oca.org/ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sephardi_Jews https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monastery https://www.thegrowlerguys.com/belgium-and-beyond-the-trappist-breweries-and-beers/ https://www.britannica.com/topic/AsclepiusSupport the show (https://www.patreon.com/agriCulturePodcast)

In this episode I recount the early settlement of Jews to Cuba beginning in 1508 when the new Christians arrived in Habana. I discuss the inquisition proceeding to the tribunals of 17th century until the abolition of the Spanish Inquisition in 1834. I also discuss the many contribution Jews made in Cuba from aiding Cubans in the war of independence to the founding of Cuba's cane sugar fields and the first refineries. Then in the 1900's the migration of the Young Turks which brought many Sephardi Jews to Cuba and later in the 1920's, Ashkenazi's began to migrate to Cuba. The Jews began a great emigration from Cuba after Fidel Castro assumed power in January 1959, following an armed revolution against Batista. The Jews begin to settle in South Florida, a community that still lives today. In the second Segment, my guest Marcos Kerbel, a distinguished international banker and University professor, consultant and community leader tells us about why and how his Jewish parents and grandparents ended up migrating to Cuba. Marcos was born in Cuba and raised in La Habana's Guanabacoa neighborhood. Throughout the interview he recounts his life in Cuba and what it was like to be Jewish in Cuba during that time. When Castro took possession of Cuba in 1959, Marcos immigrated to the United States via Operation Peter Pan. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/aileen092/message

00:00 Reb Doooovid joins, https://twitter.com/RebDoooovid 02:00 Doooovid's Youtube channel, https://www.youtube.com/user/doooovid 04:00 Richard Spencer vs Judas Maccabeus, https://killstream.libsyn.com/richard-spencer-vs-judas-maccabeus 05:00 Tikkun ha-Olam: The Metamorphosis of a Concept, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=141122 08:00 Doooovid's experience with Tikkun Olam 11:00 Noahide Laws, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Laws_of_Noah 15:00 Judaism as Old Time Religion, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=141073 17:00 The Study of Judaism: Authenticity, Identity, Scholarship, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=141060 18:00 Kaballah, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kabbalah 23:00 Author Gilbert Rosenthal, https://www.amazon.com/s?i=stripbooks&rh=p_27%3AGilbert+S+Rosenthal&s=relevancerank&text=Gilbert+S+Rosenthal&ref=dp_byline_sr_book_1 32:00 The Jewish martyrs of Bloisee, https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/112387/jewish/The-Martyrs-of-Blois.htm 40:00 How will demolition order for Meron affect investigation into disaster?, https://www.jpost.com/israel-news/meron-structures-dismantled-raising-concerns-among-victims-families-672573 41:00 Haredim out of political power in Israel, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haredi_Judaism 53:00 Killing a traitor to save the community, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mesirah 1:13:00 The politics of biblical interpretation, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=141153 1:15:00 Aaron W. Hughes on religious studies as an academic discipline, https://www.religiousstudiesproject.com/podcast/religious-studies-as-a-discipline/ 1:17:00 The Study of Judaism: Authenticity, Identity, Scholarship, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=141060 1:19:00 Reification, https://www.vocabulary.com/dictionary/reification 1:33:00 Rabbi Judah Maccabeus joins (he has Covid), https://twitter.com/JudasMaccabeus7 1:37:00 Judah's Covid lockdown 1:39:00 Rabbi Judah's Guerilla Judaism Youtube channel, https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCLgGCISOp6Ytu1W6adwvAtw 1:45:30 Rabbi Meir Kahane, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meir_Kahane 1:48:00 Israeli unhappiness with the haredim 1:51:00 JPost: Haredim, not Arabs or Iran, are the biggest threat to Israel, https://www.jpost.com/opinion/haredim-not-arabs-or-iran-are-the-biggest-threat-to-israel-opinion-672968 2:02:00 Sephardic & Mizrahi Haredim 2:05:00 Sephardi Jews, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sephardi_Jews 2:06:00 Persian Jews, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Persian_Jews 2:23:00 Was the Rambam a rationalist? Join this channel to get access to perks: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCSFVD7Xfhn7sJY8LAIQmH8Q/join https://odysee.com/@LukeFordLive, https://lbry.tv/@LukeFord, https://rumble.com/lukeford https://dlive.tv/lukefordlivestreams Listener Call In #: 1-310-997-4596 Superchat: https://entropystream.live/app/lukefordlive Bitchute: https://www.bitchute.com/channel/lukeford/ Soundcloud MP3s: https://soundcloud.com/luke-ford-666431593 Code of Conduct: https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=125692 https://www.patreon.com/lukeford http://lukeford.net Email me: lukeisback@gmail.com or DM me on Twitter.com/lukeford Support the show | https://www.streamlabs.com/lukeford, https://patreon.com/lukeford, https://PayPal.Me/lukeisback Facebook: http://facebook.com/lukecford Feel free to clip my videos. It's nice when you link back to the original.

Friday the 13th, Catch-22, Idris Elba, Annulment, Happy Madison Productions, John Amos, Jews, Sephardi Jews, Ashkenazi Jews, Black Hebrew Israelites, Barack Obama, Donald Trump Jr., Triggered (Donald Trump Jr. book), Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Martin Lawrence, Robert de Niro  

Lipika Pelham tells the extraordinary story of the Sephardi Jews of 17th century Amsterdam. The community, part of a ‘carnival of nations’ formed of French Huguenots, North African merchants, Spanish Moriscos and Iberian New Christians, was integral to the success of the Dutch Golden Age. They traded, wrote, staged plays and were painted by Rembrandt. They achieved unparalleled freedoms. While Jews elsewhere were confined to the ghetto, this community dared to nurture the ‘Hope of Israel’, sowing the seeds of Zionism. Lipika also searches for what remains today of Jerusalem on the Amstel. In association with Jewish Renaissance This event took place on 5 March as part of Jewish Book Week 2019

Learning to Love All Types of JewsONE NATION UNDER G-DWe all know already that the children of Yaakov were inMitzrayimfor two hundred and ten years and it was there that this small family of twelve brothers developed into one great nation. And because they didn’t have any territory to divide among themselves; they were primarily in the area ofGoshenand couldn’t spread out and settle into separate districts, we would have therefore expected that they should have lived together as one people, theAm Bnei Yisrael. L’havdil, like they say in America, “One nation, under G-d.” That’s whatwewould have anticipated.And yet, what do we see? That the developing nation of the children of Yaakov remainedtwelve separateshevatim. For more than two centuries they maintained the boundaries; everybody knew hisshevetand identified primarily with his own tribe. Everyone knew where he belonged.For two hundred years they didn’t give up their individual identity.Yehudah remained Yehudah, Reuven remained Reuven, and Shimon was Shimon. And that’s a remarkable thing because it was inMitzrayimthat they were supposed to grow intooneunified nation. And therefore we should study that; it’s a strange thing and it deserves a great deal of attention.THE GHETTO OF 1776Imagine that for two hundred and ten years Jews lived in America.Let’s say, in 1776 some Jews came to America from Germany and others came from Spain. Some immigrated from England and the Turkish Jews also arrived on the shores of America. So by the time two hundred and ten years would pass, by the time 1986 would come,halevaithey should still remain Jews! But that they should remain segregated into strict boundaries, separate people, living separate lives?!Such a thing couldn’t even be imagined! It’s one nation and the different families and nationalities would all be amalgamated after a while. They would merge together and the boundaries would disappear.And why not? After all, we’re all Jews, one tribe ofovdei Hashem. And yet we see that inMitzrayimit wasn’t like that. Not only did they remain Jews, but they retained their status as separateshevatim.So you’ll say maybe it was something temporary, something reserved for their stay inMitzrayim,when they were still a growing family of different brothers, and not yet a unified nation. But when they would come out ofMitzrayim, so now they’re a full-fledged nation already, so who needs this segregation anymore?THE SPRINGS OF SEGREGATIONAnd yet surprisingly, what we find is that this was the permanent plan ofHashemfor theAmYisroel; it was His conspicuous policy to maintain the individual identity of each tribe. We see that Hakadosh Baruch Hu insisted there should be separateshevatimeven when they came out ofMitzrayim. We find that in ourparsha: ויבואו אילמה ושם שתים עשרה עינות מים – “And they came to Eilim and there were twelve springs of water…and they encamped there near the water” (Beshalach 15:27).Now if the Torah goes out of its way to tell us the number of springs, then the number twelve is not superfluous. Twelve springs?!That wasn’t an accident; that was Hashem’s plan from the days ofma’asehBereishis– they didn’t dig the springs on their own. This was the hand of Hashem guiding His people in the way He wanted for them.So we’ll understand that the springs of much needed fresh water in the parched desert was the preferred place for people to gather. Everyone needs water after all. And therefore there is no doubt that it was the plan of Hashem to have separate springs for each of the twelveshevatim.The plan of Hashem was segregation. TheReuveineeshould spent their time with theReuveinee, theShimoneewith theShimoneeand so on and so forth.And we’re told about it; the separation is emphasized. More than emphasized; Hakodosh Boruch Hu made sure that it would remain that wayalways.ARE WE REALLY “KE’ISH ECHAD”?Because when you learn Torah, if you pay attention to thepesukim, you’ll note that this wasn’t an isolated incident; it was no aberration.You see a very clear thing that this is how theAm Yisroelalways lived in the ancient times- as distinct and dividedshevatim.You remember when they came to receive theTorahatHar Sinai.Everyone knows what the Torah says: ויחן שם ישראל נגד ההר – “And the nation encamped there, opposite the mountain” (Shemos 19:2). And Chazal are bothered by the wordvayichan– andheencamped, in the singular. And they say that the nation made camp כאיש אחד בלב אחד – “Like one man, with one heart” (Rashi, ibid.)However even there we find something very queer. They all encamped together “like one man, with one heart,” and yet Moshe Rabeinu,al pi Hashem,had different plans for them. When they were about to receive theTorah, it says (Shemos 24:4) that Moshe built twelvematzeivos,one for each one of the twelveshevatim.ויבן מזבח תחת ההר ושתים עשרה מצבה לשנים עשר שבטי ישראל – Moshe built – not onemizbei’achat the foot of the mountain, but he builttwelvematzeivosfor each one of theshevatimseparately!That was what Hakodosh Boruch Hu insisted on atkabalas hatorah.Twelve separate “standing stones.” Now that’s very strange. Why was it necessary?They’re all coming to receive theTorahtogether“like one man, with one heart.” What’s the problem with that? Let them come together as one nation!I’ll tell you something else that always bothered me. You know that thekohengadolcarried always on his chest thechoshen, the breastplate. And on the breastplate he had twelve precious stones, each one distinguished from the next; separate colors, set off from each other in separate settings. And on these twelve precious stones were engraved the names of the twelveshevatim.והאבנים תהיין על שמות בני ישראל שתים עשרה על שמותם… איש על שמו תהיין לשני עשר שבט – “The stones should be according to the names of the Bnei Yisroel, twelve according to their names… each man by his name they should be, for the twelve tribes” (Shemos 28:21). That’s what Hashem wanted to see – that in theMishkaneachshevetshould remain separate.And it wasn’t just the symbolicchoshenin theMishkan. It was actually how they lived their lives in themidbar! They lived in separate areas, under different colored flags, each one distinguished from the next. They lived and traveled for forty years segregated from one another – set boundaries, thisshevethere, this one here. There were no walls but there were always clearly defined boundaries.HASHEM WANTS STRONG BORDERSAnd a biggerkashah; even when they came toEretz Yisroel, they should have become one great nation. But no. There were twelve tribes, and each one got a separate territory.That’s a queer thing. Throughout all the generations the fact that they lived apart, within separate boundaries, caused them to have separate lifestyles.They all kept the Torah but each one hadminhagimthat were different.Anshei Galilhad thisminhag, anshei Yehudaa differentminhag. There weredifferent traditions and separateminhagim,and in the course of time many things became very deeply ingrained in them.It was like twelve different nations within one people. And for me, that’s really a very bigkasha –why did there have to be separateshevatimwhen they settled down permanently inEretz Yisroel?Nowlehavdil elef havdaloswhen the English first came to America so they settled here and there; they settled in Massachusetts, and in Connecticut and Virginia. Not because of any reason that they wanted to remain separate; that’s just how it came about. One colony settled here, one there. And after they settled, so in order to manage the collection of taxes, so the head government in England, divided them into states.In each state there was a tax collector, and they had separate offices for each state. But it was for the sake of convenience – not because there was any real difference between the states.They were all the same.All thegoyimare the same.Now it could be that in the course of time they developed certain dialects, certain differences, butlechatchilah, at the beginning they had no intention of being different people.Butlehavdil elef havdaloshere it wasal pi Hashem. The land was divided according to the command, the will, ofHakadosh Baruch Hu. He wanted His people to be separate.I don’t know if it bothers you but it bothers me very much. Now why didn’t they say we should all unite and be one people?Let’s all be one people now.Why should we be broken up into twelve different tribes?Why did they need twelveshevatim? They came out ofMitzrayimand now they’ream echad.They’re one nation.Why keep separateshevatim?And to my little head, that’s a very big question.Why couldn’t it be one country?That’s what we would do if it would have been our littleseichelmaking decisions.EVERYONE BRINGS SOMETHING TO THE TABLE!Now we have to understand; there are no accidents in this world.Hakadosh Baruch Hu has planned these things that way- and it’s a puzzle. And so we’ll try to understand why is that, what is the purpose of Hashem over here?And so we’ll say as follows: It’s clear to us that the purpose of maintaining the individual status of eachshevetis becauseeach tribe possessed its peculiar characteristics, which were its contribution to the general perfection of theAm Yisroel. And Hakodosh Boruch Hu insisted that eachshevetshould maintain its identity, and thereby contribute to the general perfection of theAm Yisroelas a whole.We get so many benefits from eachkehillah, because each group of frum Jews brings something else to the table, some benefit for theAm Yisroel. Our nation wouldn’t be the perfect nation it is, if it wasn’t for the variety of paths in the service of Hashem that make up our people. And that’s exactly why Hakodosh Boruch Hu insisted on the twelve springs inEilim. Because those separate springs signified Hashem’s plan to encourage each tribe to maintain its individuality. As they came to draw the much needed water, each tribe frequented its own well and was therefore able to avoid being swallowed up by the others. Each group retained their individual identity.Now you have to know that the differences among theshevatimwas a model for what would persist throughout the entire history of theAm Yisroel.Even when some theshevatimwent lost, or became diluted one among the other ingolus, we always remained a nation of different tribes; different ideals and attitudes, various preferences of paths in the service ofHashem.WHO NEEDS CHASSIDIM, MISNAGDIM AND SEFARDIM?I’m frequently asked: What’s the benefit of different types of servants of Hashem? Who needschassidimandmisnagdimandsefardim? Wouldn’t it have been better if we all walked together on one path towards Hakodosh Boruch Hu?So I always say: Why is it that you’ll find in the supermarket clover honey and orange blossom honey and buckwheat honey? There are at least ten varieties of honey! Who needs it?! And the answer is that it makes life more delectable! Variety is a pleasure! After all, Hakodosh Boruch Hu could have given us nothing but red delicious apples. Let’s say you’d pass a fruit stand and all you would see is bins and bins of red delicious apples. Now, red delicious apples are a treat; we can’t complain about them, but how much more fun it is when we have ten different kinds of apples! And even better, to have tens and tens of varieties of fruit. It’s much more fun when you can choose from a wide variety of good things.And therefore, there are all kinds of methods of serving Hashem, each one that has been cultivated by Hashem Himself, by the separation ofkehillos. Sometimes a person can choose one method and stick to it always. Or sometimes you can choose from the fruit store of the differentshevatim. Sometimes you’ll choose something from theGerrer, another thing you’ll take from Lakewood, something you’ll pick from Lubavitch, something you’ll take from Belz, and something else you’ll nosh from Satmer. And so on. Everyshevethad something to contribute. You can be sure that there are a lot of delightful fruit in all of these various places that help theAmYisroelin itsavodas Hashem.Everybody is helping out! Somekehillosbrought to theAm Yisroelthe great benefits ofmussarto theAm Yisroel, while otherkehillosbroughtchassidus. From some communities we learn to bekanaaimfor the truth and others impress us with theirhasmadahinlimudhatorahorgemillas chasodim.I myself have learned from one group of Jews in Flatbush what it means to bemichabeid talmidei chachomim.Because there’s no end to the variety of paths that theAm Yisroelwalk toward the One Hashem and there’s what to learn from everyone.MAKING ENEMIES FOR RAV MILLERNow I’m not going to tell you what’s best. Someone asked me, what does Hakodosh Boruch Hu want from me? Am I supposed to bechassidish, orlitvishor what? Now that’s some big order. He wants me to make enemies, the one who asked me that question.Hashem wants you to be the best that you can be. Some people can be their best if they’rechassidish. Some people can be their best if they’relitvish. Other people can be their best if they’resefardi. It’s like asking – “What is the best diet for all of mankind?” The best type of diet depends on each individual person. People are different. Some people are so different that their diets are radically different. So whatever it is that you choose, you should make it a principle in your life to always choose whatever it is that willgive you the most success in life– and success in this world means preparing for the Next World.EVERYONE IS WRONGEveryone is right. And everyone is wrong. Nobody is perfect in this world. And most important is to live with the principle of knowing that we ourselves are not altogether right.And we have to do our best to improve. Although we don’t have to adopt what everybody else does, and everyone should follow the customs and manners of hiskehillain the very best manner, nevertheless, he should know that there are things to be learned everywhere.Even though you’re achossid, when you walk into Telshe Yeshiva, you can learn good things there too. And if a Telshe bochur goes to Williamsburg, he can learn good things there, no question about it. Therefore, everyone should try to steal from others all the good things they can. Instead of going around and saying “Well, I saw in thisshteibelthat they talk during davening so it’s not so bad.” Or, “In the other place they daven fast, so I can also daven fast.” So this person goes around collecting all thewrongthingsfrom all the places. No! Go around collecting all the good things from everybody – that’s what they’re there for.BE JEALOUS AND STEALAnd that’s the person who will succeed. That’s what jealousy is for.Kinahmeans to bekoneh, to acquire, to be jealous of all the good things that you find. “Why is he saying a longshemonahesreiand not me?” “Why does he treat his wife so nicely and I’m so gruff?” “Why does he go out to learn at night and I’m still wasting away?” And everybody should try to steal from everyone else all the good things that they find.That’s our purpose – to acquire all the qualities that find favor in the eyes of Hashem. Because what Hakodosh Boruch Hu wants of us isshleimus– perfection.Shleimusin knowledge of the Torah, perfection in knowing His ways, perfection in recognizing Him in history and in nature. Perfection in character and self-control and perfection in kindliness to our fellow man. Every form of perfection that’s possible for a person to emulate, to imitate, to steal from all sides, he should do that. And the various groups that make up theAm Yisroelhave all of those things to offer.And so whenever a person comes comes into contact with people different than himself, othershevatim, otherkehillos, whenever he sees anything good in the world, he should recognize that these differences are exactly what Hashem was cultivating in theAm Yisroelwhen He separated theshevatim. And therefore he should emulate whatever good he sees and decide that he wants to take it for himself.MADISON SQUARE GARDEN IS TOO SMALLHowever there is another subject altogether – maybe even more important – that is vital for understanding why Hashem insisted on the separation of theshevatim. And we’ll begin this subject with the followinggemara. Thegemara(Brachos 58a) says thatהרואה אוכלוסי ישראל, if you see a big throng of Jews, you have to make a specialbrachah.What’s calleduchlusei yisroel?600,000 Jews.It’s azechiyah! We’re talking here about Jews who areshomrei Torah.600,000shomrei Torahs! Ahh!It’s an illumination of the mind,it’s such asimchathat you’re required to make abrachahon something like that.Now in thatbrachahyou mention a number of things.And among the things you say in thatbrachahis that אין דעתם דומה זה לזה ואין פרצופיהן דומים זה לזה – In this big throng, no two of them have the same faces. It’s a remarkable statement.The fact is that nobody has an exact replica of your face. Even twins are not exactly the same.And that’s only thechitzoniyus. Because even more than that, no two people have the samedeios, the same minds. People have various characters. Eventzadikim; no twotzadikimare the same. They think differently. When it comes to דעתם, their ideas, their attitudes, it’s a remarkable thing, that even twins who look so much alike, they’re actually very different from one another.THE MOTHER WILL ALWAYS FIND SOMETHING ABOUT THE NOSEIt’s a remarkable fact if you look at a family – let’s say you visit your cousins or it could be your own family – it’s remarkable how different the children are from each other.It’s one of the surprisingnissim.From the same parents, and yet brothers are so different one from the other.Here you have one brother.He’s handsome.He’s graceful.He looks like a real Lord Fauntleroy.He’s a beautiful boy, but a little bit sleepy, a little bit lazy.Now next to him is his brother; not good looking but a very good boy,full of energy.They look like two families, two different brothers entirely.They don’t look alike at all! Maybe you’ll find some resemblance in their nose – their mother will always find some resemblance – but otherwise they are entirely different. It’s a remarkable fact.And sisters also, sisters are very different one from the other.Now, some people think maybe it’s only their own family where this is a problem. He thinks that one of his brothers is too smart. And his little brother is too dull. One is akanoi, and the other one doesn’t care about anything. Maybe in other families it’s better. But the truth is that it was this way in the best family as well. Thegemara(Pesachim 56a) tells us when Yaakov Avinu was on his deathbed and his holy sons were standing around his bed, so he looked up at them, and he was very much worried.They were all different, remarkably different, and that concerned him as he was about to leave this world. After he would pass away, what would hold his children together? They’re so different, and he wouldn’t be around to hold them in place.YOUR HUSBAND’S LONG NOSEAnd so we see that this peculiar fact, that אין דעותיהם שוות and אין פרצופיהן שוות is no accident. Hakadosh Baruch Hu intentionally made people different from each other. Nobody in the whole world has the same face.Their voices are not the same. Their thoughts are different, their ideas, their desires. It’s a remarkable thing.And so here you have a man married to a woman, a fine woman, but he has a nose a little bit longer than she would like.She doesn’t like such a long nose. And he doesn’t like this or that. It gnaws at him. They don’t like the same foods. And I’m only mentioning some superficial things. There’s much more than that, many more differences. I know all about it because my phone is constantly ringing.Don’t ever expect when you get married that your wife will be like you.You will always discover that after all she is a woman and you are a man.נשים עם בפני עצמם, women are a different nation, thegemarasays (Shabbos 62a). Of course we shouldn’t try to emphasize the diversity.Before you get married it’s best to look for somebody who eats the same kind of food that you eat, someone who comes from the same background, as much as possible.Of course you should do that; there’s no reason to make it more difficult.It’s difficult enough as it is.But we have to know beforehand that no matter what, no matter what theshadchantells you, you’re going to be surprised to find many more differences than you ever imagined.And so what we’re seeing now is thatnotwo people are the same! One brother is different than the next, sisters can’t agree on anything, husbands and wives are from different “nations,” every neighbor is different than the next – theAm Yisroelis a nation of variousshevatim.And so we have to wonder, why is that?Wouldn’t it be so wonderful, so beautiful, if we all had the same noses. You’d be in love with your husband’s nose. And if we all thought alike?! Ahh, it would be a pleasure!Shalom al Yisroel!But no such luck. Nobody is the same. And so we see that there was some reason why Hakadosh Baruch Hu made all of us so different one from another. And we’re going to learn now that the answer to this puzzle is actually one of the most vital opportunities for perfection in this world.IF YOU’RE HERE, THERE’S STILL HOPENow to try to answer this puzzle, we’ll first study apossukin Koheles (9:4).We read there:מי אשר יחבר אל כל החיים יש ביטחון – “If somebody is still connected to the living then there’s still hope.” Now that seems like such a simple and obvious statement that we’re surprised that it’s even made – that if you’re still breathing, if you’re still alive, then there’s still hope for you to achieve something in this world.However, we’ll note a superfluous word in thepossuk. It says, אל כל החיים – “He’s connected toallthe living.” It could have said you’re connected “to the living.” Why mentionallthe living?If you’re among the living there’s still some hope for you, that’s all. If the person is already in the cemetery, it’s too late.And if he’s still with the living, if he’s still breathing, he can still accomplish something with his life. Why mentionkolhachaim,allthe living?GET ALONG WITH HIS BLUE HATWhat we’re beginning to see now is that all of these differences among ourselves that have been nurtured by Hashem throughout our history – the twelve springs inEilimare only one small example – are there in order to test us. By means of the wide variety of our fellow Jews, we are provided with the great opportunity of getting along with people who are different than we are.And that’s whatKohelesis telling us – that the one who still wants to retain somebitachon, some hope of accomplishing perfection in this world, it’s only if he understands that he must beyechubar el kol hachaim– attached toallthe living. Learning how to get along withallthe different types – the black hats and the blue hats, the long coats and the short coats, the Polish Jews and the Hungarians, the Syrian Jews and the Persians.El kol hachaim!Now of course if he’s friendly to you, you’ll like him.Or if he wears hispeyoslike you do, or he shakes during davening like you, so you’ll like him. Why not? If he’s your “type,” if he’s yourshevet, it’s much easier.But what will you do with theAm Yisroelin its totality – with all of thefrumJews who are your brothers? Hakadosh Baruch Hu expects you to have a certain attitude of affection,of love, for theAm Yisroelon a whole. It’s amitzvahmin hatorah.Veahavta l’reiachahdoesn’t mean this man right here who is a good friend of yours, who thinks like you do.Veahavtameans all of them. And that’swhywe have people in the world.In order to test us whether we’ll choose to overcome our natural tendencies to shun those different than ourselves, and instead train our minds toyechubar el kol hachaim, to feel connected to everyone.A LOVE FOR THE SEAWe are always being tested by the differences among people.The fact that some Jews saybureechand some saybaruchorboruch,is a test. You know that, don’t you? Even theshevatimpronounced the words oflashon kodeshdifferently. We see that in theTanach(see Shoftim 12:6). And there’s no question that they used idioms peculiar to themselves, ate different foods, dressed differentlyand thought differently. And it was the will of Hashem that the differentiation should persist. And itdidpersist! The distinctive physical features and characteristics of eachshevetbecame emphasized by the inbreeding, and to the untrained eye they appeared as different nations.Like thegemarasays inPesachim(4a) : ההוא דהוה קא אזיל ואמר , a man used to go around and say אכיף ימא אסיסני ביראתא, he loved the seashore.He loved the seashore.בדקו, they began to investigate.Why are you talking so much about the seashore?And they found out he came fromZevulun.זבולון לחוף ימים ישכון,Zevulunlived near the seashore and they loved it.It’s a remarkable thing.Hakadosh Baruch Hu put intoZevuluna love for the sea, and therefore they were a seafaring nation.They were sailors with boats and they loved the sea.SOME KIDS OBEY RULESAnother man used to go around saying דונו דיני – “Judge my dispute.”That means whenever there was some case between him and a fellow man, he didn’t want to arbitrate.He didn’t want to make apesharah.“No, let’s go to the judge and let’s hear what the judge says.”Now he said it so many times דונו דיני, דונו דיני it was suspicious to people. So בדקו אחריו, they searched after his pedigree, and they found that he came fromDan. You remember what it says byDan, דן ידין עמו.Danwas a strict fellow.He followed only the strict line of the law.There are people like that who are very strict with laws.They keep rules.Even little children sometimes are born that way. Some children are like that. They keep rules; it’s their nature. Other children, not so much.Now, all of these character traits were planted in our nation by Hashem – after all,Dandidn’t follow the strict line of the law because he went to a university of law and read the law journals. It was a trait that Hashem gifted him with. AndZevulunwasn’t reading Boat Fishing Monthly or whatever magazine it is, and teaching himself to like the sea; no, it was a characteristic that Hashem placed in his heart. And by maintaining its own territory and its own identity, each tribe tended to marry among themselves, and thereby maintain the characteristics that Hashem gifted them with. The character traits were planted by Hashem, and they therefore deserved to be cultivated.And therefore they remained different. Reuven was very different than Dan and Zevulun. Naftali, Levi, Shimon; they all looked different.They even made sure theirbegadimwere different, and they spoke a different language oflashon hakodesh.Their dialect was different.They lived separately, and they had different expressions. Eachshevetdeveloped different kinds ofmelitzosand language, differentmalbushimandminhagim.DON’T GET BOGGED DOWN BY THE DIFFERENCESSo we see that Hakadosh Baruch Hu put in theshevatimdifferent qualities andthe purpose was in order that they should all get together despite their differences. And when they would come up three times a year to Yerushalayim, it was supposed to beחברים כל ישראל, they’re all together as one family, despite everything that made them different. They were expected to achieve the perfection ofyechubar el kol hachaim, despite the difficulties involved.But it wasn’t an easy task. So when a person fromDanwas passing by and a boy fromYehudahsaw him, he might have ayetzer harato ridicule and say “Tatty, look at that man. Look at his funny clothing.” So the father scolded his son, ‘Oh no, don’t laugh at him.He’s our brother from the holyshevetof Dan.Have respect.Everyshevetiskadosh.” And when a boy ofshevet Reuvensaid, “Look Abba! Isn’t that strange how this person fromEfraimis speaking a queer language – he can’t pronounce the words,” so the father said, “Shh, we don’t talk that way.Shevet Efraimis holy.It’s a very holy tribe,” he said.“They’re our people, our brothers.” And theAm Yisroellearned to overcome theyetzer haraof factionism, ofmachlokes, of partisanship. They learned to respect each other’s customs and idiosyncrasies and trained themselves to refrain from mocking or ridiculing the language, the clothing and the manners of their brother tribes. They knew that Hashem favored these differences and that they were all “tribes of Hashem” (Tehillim 122:4).OPPOSITES: ATTRACT!And so we’re expected to learn from that, the lesson of how important it is to be connected to all of theKlal Yisrael.Because the many differences are there just for that – to give us the opportunity to train ourselves to respect each other’s idiosyncrasies.These have this way of talking and that way of dressing. And evenminhagim, as mentioned, inGallilthey had certainminhagim, while inYehudahthey did the opposite – otherminhagim.And theAm Yisroelhad to get used to respecting the differentminhagimof their fellow Jews.Hakadosh Baruch Hu wants to give us the great opportunity of perfection – the perfection ofyechubar el kol hachaim. Hashem wants us to struggle to beyechubarto all those who are living,el kol hachaim, to feel an affection for all the different types. We are expected to overcome the tendency to break up into factionsin our minds– that’s ayetzer hara, to actually feel that we are different factions. Now that’sa very bignisayonby the way, to retain the individuality that Hashem wants, and yet to feel attached with an actual affection to every frum Jew – it’s a very big test.BUMS IN THE BAR MAKE PEACENow, of course there will always be dissension because each one has his own mind. Each one is working toward a principle – when a principle is involved you can’t just yield. You know when bums get together in a bar and they have a dissension, so they could make peace more readily. They could unite with ease because what are they fighting about already? It’s nothing after all.Whereas people who have principles can’t unite. That’s why you findLubavitchergo their way and theSatmerertheir way. And theLakewooderand the otherlitvishehyeshivosdon’t go on either of those ways. Thelitvishehgo their own way and thesefardimwalk a different path. Andchasv’shalomthat they should become united in their principles!Chasv’shalom! Because if so, all principles would die out. Each one tries to serve Hashem according to the way he understands best – and each one respects and loves the other onejust because of that.YOU BETTER ARGUE!You know when Beis Hillel and Beis Shammai argued, nobody ever said, “Come on boys, let’s just settle down and come to an agreement. What’s the use of arguing over nothing?” No, it’snotnothing. It’s everything! It’s the most important thing to argue about – there is nothing else worth arguing about except how to serve Hashem. And each one sought to serve Hashem in the best way. And Hakodosh Boruch Hu intended that – it was no accident. From the beginning it was all planned – eachshevet, eachkehillahwith its own ways, because of the great opportunities for perfection it affords us. Because that’s what Hakodosh Boruch Hu wantsfrom us, theshleimusof learning to get along with those who are different from you.A grandson once showed him a picture in the newspaper depicting an apparent conflict between Jewish groups. “It’s trick photography,” said Rav Miller. “The media loves to drum up conflicts even where none exist. These Jews really love each other and so we love both groups.” “But they seem to be really fighting,” his grandson persisted. “I’ll explain,” Rav Miller replied. “The army has many divisions: the marines, the navy, the air force, etc. Each one is convinced that they are the best, and naturally they feel animosity toward the other branches. Yet, as far as the rest of the nation is concerned, they are one unified army supporting its country. And that is how everyone must look at them, for that is all that concerns them. Every soldier must know where he belongs and stay there – and so should you.” The grandson asked, “Who should I side with?” “You just have to know that you are in the army of Hashem,” Rav Miller answered. “and continue doing whatever service you are performing, keeping your own position. You don’t have to be concerned with the issues of others.” (Rav Avigdor Miller – His Life and His Revolution p. 292)You know, when Hakodosh Boruch Hu brought theLubavitcher Rebbe, the previous one,zichrono l’vracha, to America, it wasn’t an accident. Now, we think that he came here in order to bring back people toyiddishkeit. And it’s true – he wasmachzirb’teshuvaa lot of people. But that’s not the whole truth.And when Hakodosh Boruch Hu brought theSatmerer Rav,zichrono l’vracha,to America, people think it was for the purpose of helping rebuildchassidusin Williamsburg. They were theud mutzal m’eish; people who went through concentration camps, dejected people, broken families, ruined men and women. And he encouraged them to marry again and have children, and he almost single-handedly built up a bigkehillah. So people saw that he was sent by Hakodosh Boruch Hu to bematzila very greatkehillah. And he did! We can’t thank theSatmerer Ravenough for what he did for America. But that’s not the whole truth.THE LUBAVITCHERS ARE LITVAKSWe have to realize something that we don’t like to realize. There was another great benefit that Hashem wanted by bringing variouskehillostogether. And that’s the fact that theLubavitcherRebbecame to America to help theSatmererkehillah! And theSatmererRavcame to America to help theLubavitcherkehillah! You understand that it’s two separatekehillos. They can’t even talk together – their language is different. It’s hard to understand what theSatmererare saying if you’re not accustomed to their language. And they have differentminhagim. I’m not talking only about Torahminhagim– they have differentminhagimeven in eating – how they eat, what they eat. Many things are different about them. These arelitvakers– theLubavitcher chassidimare mostlylitvakers. They speak alitvisheh Yiddish, and theSatmerercome from Hungary and places like that – it’s a different language.So what did Hakodosh Boruch Hu do? He said, “I can’t let them remain that way. To be so separate that they never see each other, and never learn to get along despite their differences, that’s a failure. I want them to get ashleimus. So I’ll bring them to America. I’ll bring the Bobover and the Litvakers together, and the Syrians and the Persians too. I’ll bring them to one place so that they should continue to stand strong in their principlesSo that they should see the differences between them, and retain those differences,and yet at the same time they should get along with each other and love one another. Themachlokesis a great benefit for them, a great opportunity for perfection.RAV MILLER PREDICTS THE FUTUREBecause no matter how important are the principles that they stand for – and theymuststand their ground – but all of them have the same Hakodosh Boruch Hu and the same Torah. And the end will be that maybe they’ll intermarry too. They’ll dance together at weddings! It might take some time, a generation or two generations, but the perfection of being loyal to their principles at the same time as feeling a deep affection for one another, will come. At the end you’ll see that they’ll live together. And each one will gain a perfection that he could never have gotten otherwise.If you would sit inSatmarin Europe all your life and you would stew in your own juice – you’d never have any opposition, you’d never see people with differentminhagim– so you’re not being testedand you’re not being perfected. It’s the opposition that makes you great. When you’re sitting in your ownbeismedrashbut you come into contact with someone who has a differentRebbe, and different ways, that’s your opportunity for greatness.A BENT-DOWN HAT MAKES ME ANGRY!And sometimes it’s not even important things – it’s little things that bother you. Hisyarmulkehis this way and youryarmulkehis a different way. Maybe your hat is round and his hat is bent over. You don’t like that! A bent down hat you can’t stand; you’re angry at it! And when he sees your round hat, he thinks you look like aba’al ga’avah.“What does he think he is? Arebbeh?!” And so there’s friction. It’s אין “כובעיהם” ואין דעותיהם שוות – their hats are different, their faces are different and their ideals are also different.And with all that, they overcome those petty things like hats andyarmulkehsand coats, and they say “I choose to beyechubar el kolhachaim, to all of the various frum Jews, becauseit’s all just a test. And I’m going to pass that test and make myself more and more perfect every day.”EASIER SAID THAN DONENow all this is easier said than done. But once we begin to understand how important thisavodahis, so we begin to realize that this is one subject on which it pays to concentrate. Because it’s easyto say, “Get along with people,” but it’s not always easyto do. You have to have some motivation and that’s an important subject on which we should concentrate for a few minutes.So the question is how do you start working on that in order to fulfill thismitzvahfrom theTorah?Veahavtais aklal gadol betorah, it’s a very great rule of the Torah that you should have a feeling of love, of actual affection, for your fellow Jews. But how do we do it? How can we learn to love our fellow Jews?FELLOW JEW MEANSOBSERVANTJEWNotice that I’m not saying your fellowman.Forget about fellowman.Your fellowJew! Fellow Jew means only your fellowobservantJew.Thereshaimwe leave out.Achicha, reiacha, means people who areshomer mitzvoslike you are; theעבדי אלקי אביך – all the servants of Hashem, that’s theAm Yisroel.And I’m stressing that point because that is the answer to our question! I’ll explain that.I mentioned to you before about Yaakov Avinu’s worries as he lay on his deathbed. He saw children who were so different from one another, and he was concerned, “How could these children become one big unified nation?” So the sons understood their father’s worry and they consoled their father. Now listen to what they said because it’s what we have to always be saying if we want to overcome this problem and succeed atyechubar el kol hachaim, to be connected with all the living. They told Yaakov Avinu, “There’s nothing to worry about: שמע ישראל, “Listen our father, Yisroel, השם אלקינו, Hashem is our G-d, השם אחד, all of us have one G-d.” We might wear different hats and pronounce words differently. And we’ll even argue sometimes. But we’re all together “one nation under one G-d.” He’ll keep us together; He’s the “glue’’ that keeps us together. We’re all עבדי אלקי אביך – despite our differences, we’re all the servants of Hashem together.”And when Yaakov heard that, he said: ברוך שם כבוד מלכותו לעולם ועד.“If, notwithstanding all your differences you’ll be together forever, theAm Echaddedicated toHashem Echad, that will be a glory for Hashem, and I can go to the Next World in peace.”HASHEM ECHADIS THE ANSWERAnd so we’re learning now that the solution to our differences is the overriding knowledge that we’re theAm Echadserving theHashem Echad. We’re all one people and that’s something we have to not just say, but to feel.It’s very important for us to learn that, to love every part of theolam shomrei Torah, theAm Hashem,with all of our hearts.Now don’t just say, “I know that; I do that,” because youdon’tdo it. It takes work; it takes thinking and talking. You have to think about this whenever you see a fellow Jew who is different than you. He dresses different. He talks different. He davens different. You’re almost sure he’s from a differentshevet. So you have to begin planting thoughts in your head. Think about the fact that he’s ashomer mitzvoslike you are.He’s a brother in arms.We’re all fighting together to maintain theAmYisroel.We have a big army against us, enemies all around us.Thefrei yiddenare all enemies with us.The irreligious Jews hate us very much.You should know that.גדולה שנאה ששונאים עמי הארץ את התלמידי חכמים יותר ממה ששונאים אומות העולם את ישראל, “The irreligious people hate the frum Jews more than the gentiles hate the Jews” (Pesachim 49b).It’s a fact.We have to fight for our people and be the best of friends among ourselves because we’re surrounded by enemies on all sides.בכל דור ודור עומדים עלינו לכלותנו, everybody wants to overcome us.And therefore when we feel that we’re all fighting together for one cause, forHashem Echad, we’re all marching together in the same regiment against the same enemies, so it’s easier to have a love for your fellow Jew.BE PROUD OF EACH OTHER!And so now we have learned the necessity of identifying with theAm Yisraelof today. But you have to identify.If you’re ashamed of your people – of any of thefrummeh– then you’re not identifying.You have to be proud of all of your people.That’s important.And who are your people?All of us, all the good Jews.Not the liberals.They don’t belong to us.Not the reformers, no.They’re not proud of us, and we’re not proud of them. They want to be like gentiles and they’renichras mei’amav.They’re all cut offnebach.Pity on them.It’s a tragedy.What can we do?But we don’t want to identify with them.We don’t identify with Ben Gurion, and not with Herzl. And not with anybody like them. עמך means עושי מעשה עמך, those who do the deeds of your people.That’s what theAm Yisroelmeans.All the “heroes” that were not loyal to the Torah don’t exist for us. We limit our love to thosewho serve Hashem, those who love Hashem, because that is the only glue that binds theAmYisroeltogether despite our differences.We identify with all observant Jews, whether they’re Jews inTeimanor in Lakewood or inLubavitchor Bnei Brak or in Boro Park or Baltimore.Wherever they are, we identify with them.Whether they’re Sephardi Jews, whether they’re Syrian Jews, whether they’re Egyptian Jews.All Jews that are loyal to the Torah, that’s our people.That’s theAm Echad, and we have to identify with them.It’s important.You can’t feel like he’s a stranger.A Galicianer can’t think, “I’m a stranger to a Hungarian Jew.” No, we’re not strangers to anybody if they’re loyal Jews.It’s very important for us to learn that.DO YOU WEAR A TOP HAT FOR YONTIF?So now theTeimanimcome with their robes and their turbans and the Jews come let’s say from Canada with black hats.Some would come in with top hats yet.Some still wear top hats onyontif,silk hats.A man wearing a top silk hat and another man wearing a turban look at each other with the greatest respect.That’s my brother.Anothershevet,allshivtei Kah,holy people.Ohhh, now we’re talking! Because even though we all have our differences and our own lives, there always remains this glue of service of Hashem that binds us together in this kinship of brotherhood. It’s much more than a blood line; it’s a real bond, a bond of the mind, something that actually ties us together.We’re not merely connected to each other by blood, by DNA.A fellow Jew is a brother who is עמיתך, he’s עמך בתורה ובמצוות. Chazal tell us that אחיך means אחיך במצוות, “your brother in mitzvos.” It’s not merely a brother of the same ancestor; it’s a brother of the same mind! With the same ideals and attitudes; he’s your “brother in arms.” Among ourselves, we have to be the best of friends. Because no matter where you are; you could be Jew in Australia, aSatmererin Williamsburg, or a Jew in Tel-Aviv, we’re all in this world for one purpose, to serve Hakodosh Boruch Hu. When we feel that we’re all fighting together for one cause, to serve Hashem, we’re all marching together in the same regiment, so it’s much easier to have a love for your fellow men. How much of an affection are you supposed to feel for brothers who are of one mind with you!MODEH B’MIKTZASIS STILL SOMETHINGAll thekehillos, even the Modern Orthodox who are far away from what we consider the great ideals ofavodas Hashem, are our brothers. Absolutely! If a Jew is ashomermitzvos, he tries to keep themitzvos, then even though he doesn’t exactly do everything the way we do it, he’s still a brother. If he doesn’t doaveiros, I don’t care what kind ofyarmulkehhe wears. If he wears a knittedyarmulkehor if he wears something else, he’s still my brother. Even a small littleyarmulkeh,so he’s “amodeh b’miktzas,”but he’s still one of ours. A person who keepstaharashamishpacha, he eats kosher, he sends his children toyeshivaand not public school, he’s ashomer Shabbos, he hasmezuzoson his doors – so a person like that is our brother, and don’t make any mistake about it. And you love him like any other Jew.Now, don’t misquote me; I’m not saying that the modern orthodox man has to be your brother in the sense that you’ll move into the same house as him. It doesn’t mean that you should associate with him if you don’t have to.That’s something else altogether. If your brother has the flu, you don’t want to be too close to him because it’s contagious. But you still love him, no less. Over here, in this place, we say that we want to associate only with the best onesbecause we want to be the best.But when you see another frum Jew on the street, any frum Jew, he’syour brotherin the most literal sense of the word. And you have amitzvahof ואהבת לרעך כמוך – you have amitzvahto love him. That’s how to think about your fellow Jew. And even though he follows a different rebbe, or a different set of political objectives, nevertheless, don’t lose sight of the fact that fundamentally he belongs to your people and that therefore you’re obligated, to think well of him, to recognize him as your brother, and to love him.TRY TO SEE FROM HIS VIEWPOINTThat’s what it means לעולם תהא דעתו של אדם מעורבת עם הבריות – A person’s mind always should be united –mi’urevesmeans joined – with the minds of other people (Kesubos 17a). Now this I mentioned here more than once that it doesn’t mean you have to yield when somebody is doing something wrong; it doesn’t mean you should stand down when someone is doing sins. But when you happen to like one thing and somebody else is enthusiastic about something else, and you have no interest in that thing, don’t belittle it. Try to agree with people. Always try to see things from the other man’s side.Your mind is different – and Hakodosh Boruch Hu wants you to keep your mind. And his mind is different – and Hakodosh Boruch Hu wants him to keep his mind. But Hashem brought you together now just for the purpose of benefiting the both of you. That’s theshleimusof both of you.So if you walk in the streets and you see Jewish boys with yarmulkes and black hats coming out of theyeshivasor buses carrying children toyeshivos,so your heart should overflow with happiness.You’re looking at your people! Or you see a group offrumgirls dressedb’tzniuscoming out of the Bais Yaakov schools, walking with decency, and wearing long skirts. It’s a pleasure to see!Your heart is full of happiness to see theAm Hashem.You walk through blocks and blocks and see fathers with children going to thebeis hakenesesand you love to see it.Your heart swells with pride and happiness.You love your people.Hashem wants that.Some people are so happy when they see Jews.They just weep with joy when they see the Jewish people.My people,ami.THAT BOY WAS RUNNING TOWARDS HASHEMI’ll tell you a little story.There was a boy in Chicago.A true story – I won’t say his name but today he’s an important personality. He lived in a gentile neighborhood. He was a young boy and his heart yearned for his people so one day he got up, took a long walk to the east side of Chicago, to the Jewish neighborhood. And as he saw a Jewish child walking in the street, he burst into tears. This boy burst into tears.He was so emotionally happy.‘Ahh!My people.” He felt connected to his people.A boy like that is headed towards not just people.He’s headed towards Hakadosh Baruch Hu.That’s why it does you very good to walk through Boro Park.Bigmezuzosone after the other.Blocks and blocks of Jewish houses. And you’re thinking as you walk, “I’m walking among my people. בתוך עמי אנכי יושבת. It’s my people and I love them. I don’t care what hat he wears or what group he belongs to, it’s all my people!”You can’t even imagine what an opportunity you’re missing by not making use of this feeling ofachvah,of brotherly camaraderie, that is available to you all the time. The next time you walk intoshuland you see theAm Yisroelgathering todavento Hashem, you should put your mind to work: “This is my nation! My brothers! And we all share the common purpose of serving Hashem.”And when you’re shopping in the kosher supermarket and it’s crowded, and the lines are long – those are precious moments! You’re looking down the aisles and all you can see are your “brothers and sisters”.Women, men, children, all buying kosher food. That’s a nation dedicated with a singular heart to Hakodosh Boruch Hu. ישראל אין להם אלא לב אחד לאביהם שבשמים – “The wholeAm Yisroelhas but one heart devoted to their Father in Heaven” (Sukkah 45b). It’s not just poetry; that’s actually the greatness of theAm Yisroelthat binds us as brothers.THIS IS A CAREERNow this is not a small thing that you heard tonight.It’s a career.You have to be serious of course.You have to not only hear it, hearing is very important, you have to try to practice it.Now even though you do it a little bit, it’s a tremendous achievement.If you’ll think once a week about it, once a week, for two minutes on the subject of achieving a certain respect and love for kol hachaim, for all of your fellow Jews, then you know that you came to this world for a purpose!Now, all this might seem little queer for those who don’t know their purpose in the world. So when you go outside later and they’ll ask you, “What did Rabbi Miller speak about tonight?” So you’ll say, “He told us to love our fellow Jew.” They’ll laugh at you: “What’s thechiddush? Who doesn’t know that?!” But the truth iswho does it?! Who thinks about it? If he loves, he loves; if not, what could he do already? He’spatur,he thinks. But no, we’re learning tonight that you have to work on loving theAm Yisroel,with an intense love. And you’ll do it by first of all recognizing that we’re anAm Echad.You have a big career ahead of you because when it says ואהבת לרעך כמוך, it doesn’t mean that you should tolerate him, or even that you should get along with him. It means that you should generate aahavah,a love, a real love, for your fellow Jew. You have to understand how far away we really are from even beginning such anavodah.Of course, we’re willing to say that we agree with the idea. Maybe someday we’ll even come around to it. But we won’t. You won’t come around to it unless you start doing something about it. And when a person begins to understand that, and feel a little bit of love for all of his fellowovdei Hashem, then he has achieved the perfection that Hashem expected from him since that day many years ago when He prepared twelve separate springs inEilimfor theAm Yisroel.It’s the perfection of choosing for yourself the good from all theshevatim, as well as the perfection of feeling a love, a real affection, for all those different than you. And those two methods ofshleimus, are the main purpose of why Hakodosh Boruch Hu brought you into this world of the twelve differentshevatim.HAVE A WONDERFUL SHABBOSGo Back See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Learning to Love All Types of JewsONE NATION UNDER G-DWe all know already that the children of Yaakov were in Mitzrayim for two hundred and ten years and it was there that this small family of twelve brothers developed into one great nation. And because they didn’t have any territory to divide among themselves; they were primarily in the area of Goshenand couldn’t spread out and settle into separate districts, we would have therefore expected that they should have lived together as one people, the Am Bnei Yisrael. L’havdil, like they say in America, “One nation, under G-d.” That’s what wewould have anticipated.And yet, what do we see? That the developing nation of the children of Yaakov remained twelve separate shevatim. For more than two centuries they maintained the boundaries; everybody knew his shevet and identified primarily with his own tribe. Everyone knew where he belonged. For two hundred years they didn’t give up their individual identity. Yehudah remained Yehudah, Reuven remained Reuven, and Shimon was Shimon. And that’s a remarkable thing because it was in Mitzrayim that they were supposed to grow into oneunified nation. And therefore we should study that; it’s a strange thing and it deserves a great deal of attention.THE GHETTO OF 1776Imagine that for two hundred and ten years Jews lived in America. Let’s say, in 1776 some Jews came to America from Germany and others came from Spain. Some immigrated from England and the Turkish Jews also arrived on the shores of America. So by the time two hundred and ten years would pass, by the time 1986 would come, halevai they should still remain Jews! But that they should remain segregated into strict boundaries, separate people, living separate lives?! Such a thing couldn’t even be imagined! It’s one nation and the different families and nationalities would all be amalgamated after a while. They would merge together and the boundaries would disappear. And why not? After all, we’re all Jews, one tribe of ovdei Hashem. And yet we see that in Mitzrayim it wasn’t like that. Not only did they remain Jews, but they retained their status as separate shevatim.So you’ll say maybe it was something temporary, something reserved for their stay in Mitzrayim, when they were still a growing family of different brothers, and not yet a unified nation. But when they would come out of Mitzrayim, so now they’re a full-fledged nation already, so who needs this segregation anymore?THE SPRINGS OF SEGREGATIONAnd yet surprisingly, what we find is that this was the permanent plan of Hashem for the Am Yisroel; it was His conspicuous policy to maintain the individual identity of each tribe. We see that Hakadosh Baruch Hu insisted there should be separate shevatim even when they came out of Mitzrayim. We find that in our parsha: ויבואו אילמה ושם שתים עשרה עינות מים – “And they came to Eilim and there were twelve springs of water…and they encamped there near the water” (Beshalach 15:27). Now if the Torah goes out of its way to tell us the number of springs, then the number twelve is not superfluous. Twelve springs?!That wasn’t an accident; that was Hashem’s plan from the days of ma’asehBereishis – they didn’t dig the springs on their own. This was the hand of Hashem guiding His people in the way He wanted for them.So we’ll understand that the springs of much needed fresh water in the parched desert was the preferred place for people to gather. Everyone needs water after all. And therefore there is no doubt that it was the plan of Hashem to have separate springs for each of the twelve shevatim. The plan of Hashem was segregation. The Reuveineeshould spent their time with the Reuveinee, the Shimonee with the Shimonee and so on and so forth. And we’re told about it; the separation is emphasized. More than emphasized; Hakodosh Boruch Hu made sure that it would remain that way always.ARE WE REALLY “KE’ISH ECHAD”?Because when you learn Torah, if you pay attention to the pesukim, you’ll note that this wasn’t an isolated incident; it was no aberration.You see a very clear thing that this is how the Am Yisroel always lived in the ancient times- as distinct and divided shevatim.You remember when they came to receive the Torah at Har Sinai.Everyone knows what the Torah says: ויחן שם ישראל נגד ההר – “And the nation encamped there, opposite the mountain” (Shemos 19:2). And Chazal are bothered by the word vayichan – and heencamped, in the singular. And they say that the nation made camp כאיש אחד בלב אחד – “Like one man, with one heart” (Rashi, ibid.)However even there we find something very queer. They all encamped together “like one man, with one heart,” and yet Moshe Rabeinu, al pi Hashem,had different plans for them. When they were about to receive the Torah, it says (Shemos 24:4) that Moshe built twelve matzeivos, one for each one of the twelve shevatim. ויבן מזבח תחת ההר ושתים עשרה מצבה לשנים עשר שבטי ישראל – Moshe built – not one mizbei’ach at the foot of the mountain, but he built twelvematzeivos for each one of the shevatim separately!That was what Hakodosh Boruch Hu insisted on at kabalas hatorah. Twelve separate “standing stones.” Now that’s very strange. Why was it necessary? They’re all coming to receive the Torah together“like one man, with one heart.” What’s the problem with that? Let them come together as one nation! I’ll tell you something else that always bothered me. You know that the kohen gadol carried always on his chest the choshen, the breastplate. And on the breastplate he had twelve precious stones, each one distinguished from the next; separate colors, set off from each other in separate settings. And on these twelve precious stones were engraved the names of the twelve shevatim. והאבנים תהיין על שמות בני ישראל שתים עשרה על שמותם… איש על שמו תהיין לשני עשר שבט – “The stones should be according to the names of the Bnei Yisroel, twelve according to their names… each man by his name they should be, for the twelve tribes” (Shemos 28:21). That’s what Hashem wanted to see – that in the Mishkan each shevetshould remain separate.And it wasn’t just the symbolic choshen in the Mishkan. It was actually how they lived their lives in the midbar! They lived in separate areas, under different colored flags, each one distinguished from the next. They lived and traveled for forty years segregated from one another – set boundaries, this shevet here, this one here. There were no walls but there were always clearly defined boundaries.HASHEM WANTS STRONG BORDERSAnd a bigger kashah; even when they came to Eretz Yisroel, they should have become one great nation. But no. There were twelve tribes, and each one got a separate territory. That’s a queer thing. Throughout all the generations the fact that they lived apart, within separate boundaries, caused them to have separate lifestyles. They all kept the Torah but each one had minhagim that were different. Anshei Galil had this minhag, anshei Yehuda a different minhag. There weredifferent traditions and separate minhagim, and in the course of time many things became very deeply ingrained in them. It was like twelve different nations within one people. And for me, that’s really a very big kasha – why did there have to be separate shevatim when they settled down permanently in Eretz Yisroel?Now lehavdil elef havdalos when the English first came to America so they settled here and there; they settled in Massachusetts, and in Connecticut and Virginia. Not because of any reason that they wanted to remain separate; that’s just how it came about. One colony settled here, one there. And after they settled, so in order to manage the collection of taxes, so the head government in England, divided them into states. In each state there was a tax collector, and they had separate offices for each state. But it was for the sake of convenience – not because there was any real difference between the states. They were all the same. All the goyim are the same. Now it could be that in the course of time they developed certain dialects, certain differences, but lechatchilah, at the beginning they had no intention of being different people. But lehavdil elef havdalos here it was al pi Hashem. The land was divided according to the command, the will, of Hakadosh Baruch Hu. He wanted His people to be separate. I don’t know if it bothers you but it bothers me very much. Now why didn’t they say we should all unite and be one people? Let’s all be one people now. Why should we be broken up into twelve different tribes? Why did they need twelve shevatim? They came out of Mitzrayim and now they’re am echad. They’re one nation. Why keep separate shevatim? And to my little head, that’s a very big question. Why couldn’t it be one country? That’s what we would do if it would have been our little seichel making decisions.EVERYONE BRINGS SOMETHING TO THE TABLE!Now we have to understand; there are no accidents in this world. Hakadosh Baruch Hu has planned these things that way- and it’s a puzzle. And so we’ll try to understand why is that, what is the purpose of Hashem over here?And so we’ll say as follows: It’s clear to us that the purpose of maintaining the individual status of each shevet is because each tribe possessed its peculiar characteristics, which were its contribution to the general perfection of the Am Yisroel. And Hakodosh Boruch Hu insisted that each shevet should maintain its identity, and thereby contribute to the general perfection of the Am Yisroel as a whole.We get so many benefits from each kehillah, because each group of frum Jews brings something else to the table, some benefit for the Am Yisroel. Our nation wouldn’t be the perfect nation it is, if it wasn’t for the variety of paths in the service of Hashem that make up our people. And that’s exactly why Hakodosh Boruch Hu insisted on the twelve springs in Eilim. Because those separate springs signified Hashem’s plan to encourage each tribe to maintain its individuality. As they came to draw the much needed water, each tribe frequented its own well and was therefore able to avoid being swallowed up by the others. Each group retained their individual identity.Now you have to know that the differences among the shevatimwas a model for what would persist throughout the entire history of the Am Yisroel. Even when some the shevatim went lost, or became diluted one among the other in golus, we always remained a nation of different tribes; different ideals and attitudes, various preferences of paths in the service ofHashem.WHO NEEDS CHASSIDIM, MISNAGDIM AND SEFARDIM?I’m frequently asked: What’s the benefit of different types of servants of Hashem? Who needs chassidim and misnagdimand sefardim? Wouldn’t it have been better if we all walked together on one path towards Hakodosh Boruch Hu?So I always say: Why is it that you’ll find in the supermarket clover honey and orange blossom honey and buckwheat honey? There are at least ten varieties of honey! Who needs it?! And the answer is that it makes life more delectable! Variety is a pleasure! After all, Hakodosh Boruch Hu could have given us nothing but red delicious apples. Let’s say you’d pass a fruit stand and all you would see is bins and bins of red delicious apples. Now, red delicious apples are a treat; we can’t complain about them, but how much more fun it is when we have ten different kinds of apples! And even better, to have tens and tens of varieties of fruit. It’s much more fun when you can choose from a wide variety of good things.And therefore, there are all kinds of methods of serving Hashem, each one that has been cultivated by Hashem Himself, by the separation of kehillos. Sometimes a person can choose one method and stick to it always. Or sometimes you can choose from the fruit store of the different shevatim. Sometimes you’ll choose something from the Gerrer, another thing you’ll take from Lakewood, something you’ll pick from Lubavitch, something you’ll take from Belz, and something else you’ll nosh from Satmer. And so on. Every shevethad something to contribute. You can be sure that there are a lot of delightful fruit in all of these various places that help the AmYisroel in its avodas Hashem.Everybody is helping out! Some kehillos brought to the Am Yisroel the great benefits of mussar to the Am Yisroel, while other kehillos brought chassidus. From some communities we learn to be kanaaim for the truth and others impress us with their hasmadah in limud hatorah or gemillas chasodim. I myself have learned from one group of Jews in Flatbush what it means to be michabeid talmidei chachomim.Because there’s no end to the variety of paths that the Am Yisroel walk toward the One Hashem and there’s what to learn from everyone.MAKING ENEMIES FOR RAV MILLERNow I’m not going to tell you what’s best. Someone asked me, what does Hakodosh Boruch Hu want from me? Am I supposed to be chassidish, or litvish or what? Now that’s some big order. He wants me to make enemies, the one who asked me that question.Hashem wants you to be the best that you can be. Some people can be their best if they’re chassidish. Some people can be their best if they’re litvish. Other people can be their best if they’re sefardi. It’s like asking – “What is the best diet for all of mankind?” The best type of diet depends on each individual person. People are different. Some people are so different that their diets are radically different. So whatever it is that you choose, you should make it a principle in your life to always choose whatever it is that will give you the most success in life– and success in this world means preparing for the Next World.EVERYONE IS WRONGEveryone is right. And everyone is wrong. Nobody is perfect in this world. And most important is to live with the principle of knowing that we ourselves are not altogether right. And we have to do our best to improve. Although we don’t have to adopt what everybody else does, and everyone should follow the customs and manners of his kehilla in the very best manner, nevertheless, he should know that there are things to be learned everywhere.Even though you’re a chossid, when you walk into Telshe Yeshiva, you can learn good things there too. And if a Telshe bochur goes to Williamsburg, he can learn good things there, no question about it. Therefore, everyone should try to steal from others all the good things they can. Instead of going around and saying “Well, I saw in this shteibel that they talk during davening so it’s not so bad.” Or, “In the other place they daven fast, so I can also daven fast.” So this person goes around collecting all the wrong thingsfrom all the places. No! Go around collecting all the good things from everybody – that’s what they’re there for.BE JEALOUS AND STEALAnd that’s the person who will succeed. That’s what jealousy is for. Kinah means to be koneh, to acquire, to be jealous of all the good things that you find. “Why is he saying a long shemonahesrei and not me?” “Why does he treat his wife so nicely and I’m so gruff?” “Why does he go out to learn at night and I’m still wasting away?” And everybody should try to steal from everyone else all the good things that they find.That’s our purpose – to acquire all the qualities that find favor in the eyes of Hashem. Because what Hakodosh Boruch Hu wants of us is shleimus – perfection. Shleimus in knowledge of the Torah, perfection in knowing His ways, perfection in recognizing Him in history and in nature. Perfection in character and self-control and perfection in kindliness to our fellow man. Every form of perfection that’s possible for a person to emulate, to imitate, to steal from all sides, he should do that. And the various groups that make up the Am Yisroel have all of those things to offer.And so whenever a person comes comes into contact with people different than himself, other shevatim, other kehillos, whenever he sees anything good in the world, he should recognize that these differences are exactly what Hashem was cultivating in the Am Yisroel when He separated the shevatim. And therefore he should emulate whatever good he sees and decide that he wants to take it for himself.MADISON SQUARE GARDEN IS TOO SMALLHowever there is another subject altogether – maybe even more important – that is vital for understanding why Hashem insisted on the separation of the shevatim. And we’ll begin this subject with the following gemara. The gemara (Brachos 58a) says that הרואה אוכלוסי ישראל, if you see a big throng of Jews, you have to make a special brachah. What’s called uchlusei yisroel? 600,000 Jews. It’s a zechiyah! We’re talking here about Jews who are shomrei Torah. 600,000 shomrei Torahs! Ahh! It’s an illumination of the mind,it’s such a simcha that you’re required to make abrachah on something like that.Now in that brachah you mention a number of things. And among the things you say in that brachah is that אין דעתם דומה זה לזה ואין פרצופיהן דומים זה לזה – In this big throng, no two of them have the same faces. It’s a remarkable statement. The fact is that nobody has an exact replica of your face. Even twins are not exactly the same. And that’s only the chitzoniyus. Because even more than that, no two people have the same deios, the same minds. People have various characters. Even tzadikim; no two tzadikim are the same. They think differently. When it comes to דעתם, their ideas, their attitudes, it’s a remarkable thing, that even twins who look so much alike, they’re actually very different from one another.THE MOTHER WILL ALWAYS FIND SOMETHING ABOUT THE NOSEIt’s a remarkable fact if you look at a family – let’s say you visit your cousins or it could be your own family – it’s remarkable how different the children are from each other. It’s one of the surprising nissim. From the same parents, and yet brothers are so different one from the other. Here you have one brother. He’s handsome. He’s graceful. He looks like a real Lord Fauntleroy. He’s a beautiful boy, but a little bit sleepy, a little bit lazy. Now next to him is his brother; not good looking but a very good boy,full of energy. They look like two families, two different brothers entirely. They don’t look alike at all! Maybe you’ll find some resemblance in their nose – their mother will always find some resemblance – but otherwise they are entirely different. It’s a remarkable fact. And sisters also, sisters are very different one from the other.Now, some people think maybe it’s only their own family where this is a problem. He thinks that one of his brothers is too smart. And his little brother is too dull. One is a kanoi, and the other one doesn’t care about anything. Maybe in other families it’s better. But the truth is that it was this way in the best family as well. The gemara (Pesachim 56a) tells us when Yaakov Avinu was on his deathbed and his holy sons were standing around his bed, so he looked up at them, and he was very much worried. They were all different, remarkably different, and that concerned him as he was about to leave this world. After he would pass away, what would hold his children together? They’re so different, and he wouldn’t be around to hold them in place. YOUR HUSBAND’S LONG NOSEAnd so we see that this peculiar fact, that אין דעותיהם שוות and אין פרצופיהן שוות is no accident. Hakadosh Baruch Hu intentionally made people different from each other. Nobody in the whole world has the same face. Their voices are not the same. Their thoughts are different, their ideas, their desires. It’s a remarkable thing. And so here you have a man married to a woman, a fine woman, but he has a nose a little bit longer than she would like. She doesn’t like such a long nose. And he doesn’t like this or that. It gnaws at him. They don’t like the same foods. And I’m only mentioning some superficial things. There’s much more than that, many more differences. I know all about it because my phone is constantly ringing.Don’t ever expect when you get married that your wife will be like you. You will always discover that after all she is a woman and you are a man. נשים עם בפני עצמם, women are a different nation, the gemara says (Shabbos 62a). Of course we shouldn’t try to emphasize the diversity. Before you get married it’s best to look for somebody who eats the same kind of food that you eat, someone who comes from the same background, as much as possible. Of course you should do that; there’s no reason to make it more difficult. It’s difficult enough as it is. But we have to know beforehand that no matter what, no matter what the shadchan tells you, you’re going to be surprised to find many more differences than you ever imagined.And so what we’re seeing now is that no two people are the same! One brother is different than the next, sisters can’t agree on anything, husbands and wives are from different “nations,” every neighbor is different than the next – the Am Yisroel is a nation of various shevatim.And so we have to wonder, why is that? Wouldn’t it be so wonderful, so beautiful, if we all had the same noses. You’d be in love with your husband’s nose. And if we all thought alike?! Ahh, it would be a pleasure! Shalom al Yisroel!But no such luck. Nobody is the same. And so we see that there was some reason why Hakadosh Baruch Hu made all of us so different one from another. And we’re going to learn now that the answer to this puzzle is actually one of the most vital opportunities for perfection in this world.IF YOU’RE HERE, THERE’S STILL HOPENow to try to answer this puzzle, we’ll first study a possuk in Koheles (9:4). We read there: מי אשר יחבר אל כל החיים יש ביטחון – “If somebody is still connected to the living then there’s still hope.” Now that seems like such a simple and obvious statement that we’re surprised that it’s even made – that if you’re still breathing, if you’re still alive, then there’s still hope for you to achieve something in this world.However, we’ll note a superfluous word in the possuk. It says, אל כל החיים – “He’s connected to all the living.” It could have said you’re connected “to the living.” Why mention all the living? If you’re among the living there’s still some hope for you, that’s all. If the person is already in the cemetery, it’s too late. And if he’s still with the living, if he’s still breathing, he can still accomplish something with his life. Why mention kol hachaim, all the living? GET ALONG WITH HIS BLUE HATWhat we’re beginning to see now is that all of these differences among ourselves that have been nurtured by Hashem throughout our history – the twelve springs in Eilim are only one small example – are there in order to test us. By means of the wide variety of our fellow Jews, we are provided with the great opportunity of getting along with people who are different than we are.And that’s what Koheles is telling us – that the one who still wants to retain some bitachon, some hope of accomplishing perfection in this world, it’s only if he understands that he must be yechubar el kol hachaim – attached to all the living. Learning how to get along with all the different types – the black hats and the blue hats, the long coats and the short coats, the Polish Jews and the Hungarians, the Syrian Jews and the Persians. El kol hachaim!Now of course if he’s friendly to you, you’ll like him. Or if he wears his peyos like you do, or he shakes during davening like you, so you’ll like him. Why not? If he’s your “type,” if he’s your shevet, it’s much easier.But what will you do with the Am Yisroel in its totality – with all of the frum Jews who are your brothers? Hakadosh Baruch Hu expects you to have a certain attitude of affection, of love, for the Am Yisroel on a whole. It’s a mitzvah min hatorah. Veahavta l’reiachah doesn’t mean this man right here who is a good friend of yours, who thinks like you do. Veahavta means all of them. And that’s why we have people in the world. In order to test us whether we’ll choose to overcome our natural tendencies to shun those different than ourselves, and instead train our minds to yechubar el kol hachaim, to feel connected to everyone.A LOVE FOR THE SEAWe are always being tested by the differences among people. The fact that some Jews say bureech and some say baruch or boruch, is a test. You know that, don’t you? Even the shevatimpronounced the words of lashon kodesh differently. We see that in the Tanach (see Shoftim 12:6). And there’s no question that they used idioms peculiar to themselves, ate different foods, dressed differently and thought differently. And it was the will of Hashem that the differentiation should persist. And it did persist! The distinctive physical features and characteristics of each shevet became emphasized by the inbreeding, and to the untrained eye they appeared as different nations.Like the gemara says in Pesachim (4a) : ההוא דהוה קא אזיל ואמר , a man used to go around and say אכיף ימא אסיסני ביראתא, he loved the seashore. He loved the seashore. בדקו, they began to investigate. Why are you talking so much about the seashore? And they found out he came from Zevulun. זבולון לחוף ימים ישכון, Zevulun lived near the seashore and they loved it. It’s a remarkable thing. Hakadosh Baruch Hu put into Zevulun a love for the sea, and therefore they were a seafaring nation. They were sailors with boats and they loved the sea.SOME KIDS OBEY RULESAnother man used to go around saying דונו דיני – “Judge my dispute.”That means whenever there was some case between him and a fellow man, he didn’t want to arbitrate. He didn’t want to make a pesharah. “No, let’s go to the judge and let’s hear what the judge says.” Now he said it so many times דונו דיני, דונו דיני it was suspicious to people. So בדקו אחריו, they searched after his pedigree, and they found that he came from Dan. You remember what it says by Dan, דן ידין עמו. Dan was a strict fellow. He followed only the strict line of the law. There are people like that who are very strict with laws. They keep rules. Even little children sometimes are born that way. Some children are like that. They keep rules; it’s their nature. Other children, not so much.Now, all of these character traits were planted in our nation by Hashem – after all, Dan didn’t follow the strict line of the law because he went to a university of law and read the law journals. It was a trait that Hashem gifted him with. And Zevulun wasn’t reading Boat Fishing Monthly or whatever magazine it is, and teaching himself to like the sea; no, it was a characteristic that Hashem placed in his heart. And by maintaining its own territory and its own identity, each tribe tended to marry among themselves, and thereby maintain the characteristics that Hashem gifted them with. The character traits were planted by Hashem, and they therefore deserved to be cultivated.And therefore they remained different. Reuven was very different than Dan and Zevulun. Naftali, Levi, Shimon; they all looked different. They even made sure their begadim were different, and they spoke a different language of lashon hakodesh. Their dialect was different. They lived separately, and they had different expressions. Each shevetdeveloped different kinds of melitzos and language, different malbushim and minhagim. DON’T GET BOGGED DOWN BY THE DIFFERENCESSo we see that Hakadosh Baruch Hu put in the shevatimdifferent qualities and the purpose was in order that they should all get together despite their differences. And when they would come up three times a year to Yerushalayim, it was supposed to be חברים כל ישראל, they’re all together as one family, despite everything that made them different. They were expected to achieve the perfection of yechubar el kol hachaim, despite the difficulties involved.But it wasn’t an easy task. So when a person from Dan was passing by and a boy from Yehudah saw him, he might have a yetzer hara to ridicule and say “Tatty, look at that man. Look at his funny clothing.” So the father scolded his son, ‘Oh no, don’t laugh at him. He’s our brother from the holy shevet of Dan. Have respect. Every shevet is kadosh.” And when a boy of shevet Reuven said, “Look Abba! Isn’t that strange how this person from Efraim is speaking a queer language – he can’t pronounce the words,” so the father said, “Shh, we don’t talk that way. Shevet Efraim is holy. It’s a very holy tribe,” he said. “They’re our people, our brothers.” And the Am Yisroellearned to overcome the yetzer hara of factionism, of machlokes, of partisanship. They learned to respect each other’s customs and idiosyncrasies and trained themselves to refrain from mocking or ridiculing the language, the clothing and the manners of their brother tribes. They knew that Hashem favored these differences and that they were all “tribes of Hashem” (Tehillim 122:4).OPPOSITES: ATTRACT!And so we’re expected to learn from that, the lesson of how important it is to be connected to all of the Klal Yisrael. Because the many differences are there just for that – to give us the opportunity to train ourselves to respect each other’s idiosyncrasies. These have this way of talking and that way of dressing. And even minhagim, as mentioned, in Gallil they had certain minhagim, while in Yehudah they did the opposite – other minhagim. And the Am Yisroel had to get used to respecting the different minhagim of their fellow Jews.Hakadosh Baruch Hu wants to give us the great opportunity of perfection – the perfection of yechubar el kol hachaim. Hashem wants us to struggle to be yechubar to all those who are living, el kol hachaim, to feel an affection for all the different types. We are expected to overcome the tendency to break up into factions in our minds – that’s a yetzer hara, to actually feel that we are different factions. Now that’s a very big nisayon by the way, to retain the individuality that Hashem wants, and yet to feel attached with an actual affection to every frum Jew – it’s a very big test.BUMS IN THE BAR MAKE PEACENow, of course there will always be dissension because each one has his own mind. Each one is working toward a principle – when a principle is involved you can’t just yield. You know when bums get together in a bar and they have a dissension, so they could make peace more readily. They could unite with ease because what are they fighting about already? It’s nothing after all.Whereas people who have principles can’t unite. That’s why you find Lubavitcher go their way and the Satmerer their way. And the Lakewooder and the other litvisheh yeshivos don’t go on either of those ways. The litvisheh go their own way and the sefardim walk a different path. And chas v’shalom that they should become united in their principles! Chas v’shalom! Because if so, all principles would die out. Each one tries to serve Hashem according to the way he understands best – and each one respects and loves the other one just because of that.YOU BETTER ARGUE!You know when Beis Hillel and Beis Shammai argued, nobody ever said, “Come on boys, let’s just settle down and come to an agreement. What’s the use of arguing over nothing?” No, it’s not nothing. It’s everything! It’s the most important thing to argue about – there is nothing else worth arguing about except how to serve Hashem. And each one sought to serve Hashem in the best way. And Hakodosh Boruch Hu intended that – it was no accident. From the beginning it was all planned – each shevet, each kehillah with its own ways, because of the great opportunities for perfection it affords us. Because that’s what Hakodosh Boruch Hu wants from us, the shleimus of learning to get along with those who are different from you.A grandson once showed him a picture in the newspaper depicting an apparent conflict between Jewish groups. “It’s trick photography,” said Rav Miller. “The media loves to drum up conflicts even where none exist. These Jews really love each other and so we love both groups.” “But they seem to be really fighting,” his grandson persisted. “I’ll explain,” Rav Miller replied. “The army has many divisions: the marines, the navy, the air force, etc. Each one is convinced that they are the best, and naturally they feel animosity toward the other branches. Yet, as far as the rest of the nation is concerned, they are one unified army supporting its country. And that is how everyone must look at them, for that is all that concerns them. Every soldier must know where he belongs and stay there – and so should you.” The grandson asked, “Who should I side with?” “You just have to know that you are in the army of Hashem,” Rav Miller answered. “and continue doing whatever service you are performing, keeping your own position. You don’t have to be concerned with the issues of others.” (Rav Avigdor Miller – His Life and His Revolution p. 292)You know, when Hakodosh Boruch Hu brought the Lubavitcher Rebbe, the previous one, zichrono l’vracha, to America, it wasn’t an accident. Now, we think that he came here in order to bring back people to yiddishkeit. And it’s true – he was machzirb’teshuva a lot of people. But that’s not the whole truth.And when Hakodosh Boruch Hu brought the Satmerer Rav, zichrono l’vracha, to America, people think it was for the purpose of helping rebuild chassidus in Williamsburg. They were the ud mutzal m’eish; people who went through concentration camps, dejected people, broken families, ruined men and women. And he encouraged them to marry again and have children, and he almost single-handedly built up a big kehillah. So people saw that he was sent by Hakodosh Boruch Hu to be matzil a very great kehillah. And he did! We can’t thank the Satmerer Ravenough for what he did for America. But that’s not the whole truth.THE LUBAVITCHERS ARE LITVAKSWe have to realize something that we don’t like to realize. There was another great benefit that Hashem wanted by bringing various kehillos together. And that’s the fact that the Lubavitcher Rebbe came to America to help the Satmererkehillah! And the Satmerer Ravcame to America to help the Lubavitcher kehillah! You understand that it’s two separate kehillos. They can’t even talk together – their language is different. It’s hard to understand what the Satmerer are saying if you’re not accustomed to their language. And they have different minhagim. I’m not talking only about Torah minhagim – they have different minhagim even in eating – how they eat, what they eat. Many things are different about them. These are litvakers – the Lubavitcher chassidim are mostly litvakers. They speak a litvisheh Yiddish, and the Satmerer come from Hungary and places like that – it’s a different language.So what did Hakodosh Boruch Hu do? He said, “I can’t let them remain that way. To be so separate that they never see each other, and never learn to get along despite their differences, that’s a failure. I want them to get a shleimus. So I’ll bring them to America. I’ll bring the Bobover and the Litvakers together, and the Syrians and the Persians too. I’ll bring them to one place so that they should continue to stand strong in their principles So that they should see the differences between them, and retain those differences, and yet at the same time they should get along with each other and love one another. The machlokes is a great benefit for them, a great opportunity for perfection.RAV MILLER PREDICTS THE FUTUREBecause no matter how important are the principles that they stand for – and they muststand their ground – but all of them have the same Hakodosh Boruch Hu and the same Torah. And the end will be that maybe they’ll intermarry too. They’ll dance together at weddings! It might take some time, a generation or two generations, but the perfection of being loyal to their principles at the same time as feeling a deep affection for one another, will come. At the end you’ll see that they’ll live together. And each one will gain a perfection that he could never have gotten otherwise.If you would sit in Satmar in Europe all your life and you would stew in your own juice – you’d never have any opposition, you’d never see people with different minhagim – so you’re not being tested and you’re not being perfected. It’s the opposition that makes you great. When you’re sitting in your own beis medrash but you come into contact with someone who has a different Rebbe, and different ways, that’s your opportunity for greatness.A BENT-DOWN HAT MAKES ME ANGRY!And sometimes it’s not even important things – it’s little things that bother you. His yarmulkeh is this way and your yarmulkeh is a different way. Maybe your hat is round and his hat is bent over. You don’t like that! A bent down hat you can’t stand; you’re angry at it! And when he sees your round hat, he thinks you look like a ba’al ga’avah. “What does he think he is? A rebbeh?!” And so there’s friction. It’s אין “כובעיהם” ואין דעותיהם שוות – their hats are different, their faces are different and their ideals are also different.And with all that, they overcome those petty things like hats and yarmulkehs and coats, and they say “I choose to be yechubar el kol hachaim, to all of the various frum Jews, because it’s all just a test. And I’m going to pass that test and make myself more and more perfect every day.”EASIER SAID THAN DONENow all this is easier said than done. But once we begin to understand how important this avodah is, so we begin to realize that this is one subject on which it pays to concentrate. Because it’s easy to say, “Get along with people,” but it’s not always easyto do. You have to have some motivation and that’s an important subject on which we should concentrate for a few minutes.So the question is how do you start working on that in order to fulfill this mitzvah from the Torah? Veahavta is a klal gadol betorah, it’s a very great rule of the Torah that you should have a feeling of love, of actual affection, for your fellow Jews. But how do we do it? How can we learn to love our fellow Jews?FELLOW JEW MEANS OBSERVANT JEWNotice that I’m not saying your fellow man. Forget about fellow man. Your fellow Jew! Fellow Jew means only your fellow observant Jew. The reshaim we leave out. Achicha, reiacha, means people who are shomer mitzvos like you are; the עבדי אלקי אביך – all the servants of Hashem, that’s the Am Yisroel. And I’m stressing that point because that is the answer to our question! I’ll explain that.I mentioned to you before about Yaakov Avinu’s worries as he lay on his deathbed. He saw children who were so different from one another, and he was concerned, “How could these children become one big unified nation?” So the sons understood their father’s worry and they consoled their father. Now listen to what they said because it’s what we have to always be saying if we want to overcome this problem and succeed at yechubar el kol hachaim, to be connected with all the living. They told Yaakov Avinu, “There’s nothing to worry about: שמע ישראל, “Listen our father, Yisroel, השם אלקינו, Hashem is our G-d, השם אחד, all of us have one G-d.” We might wear different hats and pronounce words differently. And we’ll even argue sometimes. But we’re all together “one nation under one G-d.” He’ll keep us together; He’s the “glue’’ that keeps us together. We’re all עבדי אלקי אביך – despite our differences, we’re all the servants of Hashem together.”And when Yaakov heard that, he said: ברוך שם כבוד מלכותו לעולם ועד. “If, notwithstanding all your differences you’ll be together forever, the Am Echad dedicated to Hashem Echad, that will be a glory for Hashem, and I can go to the Next World in peace.”HASHEM ECHAD IS THE ANSWERAnd so we’re learning now that the solution to our differences is the overriding knowledge that we’re the Am Echad serving the Hashem Echad. We’re all one people and that’s something we have to not just say, but to feel. It’s very important for us to learn that, to love every part of the olam shomrei Torah, the Am Hashem, with all of our hearts.Now don’t just say, “I know that; I do that,” because you don’t do it. It takes work; it takes thinking and talking. You have to think about this whenever you see a fellow Jew who is different than you. He dresses different. He talks different. He davens different. You’re almost sure he’s from a different shevet. So you have to begin planting thoughts in your head. Think about the fact that he’s a shomer mitzvoslike you are. He’s a brother in arms. We’re all fighting together to maintain the Am Yisroel. We have a big army against us, enemies all around us. The frei yidden are all enemies with us. The irreligious Jews hate us very much. You should know that. גדולה שנאה ששונאים עמי הארץ את התלמידי חכמים יותר ממה ששונאים אומות העולם את ישראל, “The irreligious people hate the frum Jews more than the gentiles hate the Jews” (Pesachim 49b). It’s a fact. We have to fight for our people and be the best of friends among ourselves because we’re surrounded by enemies on all sides. בכל דור ודור עומדים עלינו לכלותנו, everybody wants to overcome us. And therefore when we feel that we’re all fighting together for one cause, for Hashem Echad, we’re all marching together in the same regiment against the same enemies, so it’s easier to have a love for your fellow Jew.BE PROUD OF EACH OTHER!And so now we have learned the necessity of identifying with the Am Yisrael of today. But you have to identify. If you’re ashamed of your people – of any of the frummeh – then you’re not identifying. You have to be proud of all of your people. That’s important. And who are your people? All of us, all the good Jews. Not the liberals. They don’t belong to us. Not the reformers, no. They’re not proud of us, and we’re not proud of them. They want to be like gentiles and they’re nichras mei’amav. They’re all cut off nebach. Pity on them. It’s a tragedy. What can we do? But we don’t want to identify with them. We don’t identify with Ben Gurion, and not with Herzl. And not with anybody like them. עמך means עושי מעשה עמך, those who do the deeds of your people. That’s what the Am Yisroel means. All the “heroes” that were not loyal to the Torah don’t exist for us. We limit our love to those who serve Hashem, those who love Hashem, because that is the only glue that binds the AmYisroel together despite our differences.We identify with all observant Jews, whether they’re Jews in Teiman or in Lakewood or in Lubavitch or Bnei Brak or in Boro Park or Baltimore. Wherever they are, we identify with them. Whether they’re Sephardi Jews, whether they’re Syrian Jews, whether they’re Egyptian Jews. All Jews that are loyal to the Torah, that’s our people. That’s the Am Echad, and we have to identify with them. It’s important. You can’t feel like he’s a stranger. A Galicianer can’t think, “I’m a stranger to a Hungarian Jew.” No, we’re not strangers to anybody if they’re loyal Jews. It’s very important for us to learn that.DO YOU WEAR A TOP HAT FOR YONTIF?So now the Teimanim come with their robes and their turbans and the Jews come let’s say from Canada with black hats. Some would come in with top hats yet. Some still wear top hats on yontif, silk hats. A man wearing a top silk hat and another man wearing a turban look at each other with the greatest respect. That’s my brother. Another shevet, all shivtei Kah, holy people.Ohhh, now we’re talking! Because even though we all have our differences and our own lives, there always remains this glue of service of Hashem that binds us together in this kinship of brotherhood. It’s much more than a blood line; it’s a real bond, a bond of the mind, something that actually ties us together.We’re not merely connected to each other by blood, by DNA. A fellow Jew is a brother who is עמיתך, he’s עמך בתורה ובמצוות. Chazal tell us that אחיך means אחיך במצוות, “your brother in mitzvos.” It’s not merely a brother of the same ancestor; it’s a brother of the same mind! With the same ideals and attitudes; he’s your “brother in arms.” Among ourselves, we have to be the best of friends. Because no matter where you are; you could be Jew in Australia, a Satmererin Williamsburg, or a Jew in Tel-Aviv, we’re all in this world for one purpose, to serve Hakodosh Boruch Hu. When we feel that we’re all fighting together for one cause, to serve Hashem, we’re all marching together in the same regiment, so it’s much easier to have a love for your fellow men. How much of an affection are you supposed to feel for brothers who are of one mind with you!MODEH B’MIKTZAS IS STILL SOMETHINGAll the kehillos, even the Modern Orthodox who are far away from what we consider the great ideals of avodas Hashem, are our brothers. Absolutely! If a Jew is a shomer mitzvos, he tries to keep the mitzvos, then even though he doesn’t exactly do everything the way we do it, he’s still a brother. If he doesn’t do aveiros, I don’t care what kind of yarmulkeh he wears. If he wears a knitted yarmulkeh or if he wears something else, he’s still my brother. Even a small little yarmulkeh, so he’s “a modeh b’miktzas,” but he’s still one of ours. A person who keeps taharas hamishpacha, he eats kosher, he sends his children to yeshiva and not public school, he’s a shomer Shabbos, he has mezuzos on his doors – so a person like that is our brother, and don’t make any mistake about it. And you love him like any other Jew.Now, don’t misquote me; I’m not saying that the modern orthodox man has to be your brother in the sense that you’ll move into the same house as him. It doesn’t mean that you should associate with him if you don’t have to. That’s something else altogether. If your brother has the flu, you don’t want to be too close to him because it’s contagious. But you still love him, no less. Over here, in this place, we say that we want to associate only with the best ones because we want to be the best.But when you see another frum Jew on the street, any frum Jew, he’s your brother in the most literal sense of the word. And you have a mitzvah of ואהבת לרעך כמוך – you have a mitzvahto love him. That’s how to think about your fellow Jew. And even though he follows a different rebbe, or a different set of political objectives, nevertheless, don’t lose sight of the fact that fundamentally he belongs to your people and that therefore you’re obligated, to think well of him, to recognize him as your brother, and to love him.TRY TO SEE FROM HIS VIEWPOINTThat’s what it means לעולם תהא דעתו של אדם מעורבת עם הבריות – A person’s mind always should be united – mi’ureves means joined – with the minds of other people (Kesubos 17a). Now this I mentioned here more than once that it doesn’t mean you have to yield when somebody is doing something wrong; it doesn’t mean you should stand down when someone is doing sins. But when you happen to like one thing and somebody else is enthusiastic about something else, and you have no interest in that thing, don’t belittle it. Try to agree with people. Always try to see things from the other man’s side.Your mind is different – and Hakodosh Boruch Hu wants you to keep your mind. And his mind is different – and Hakodosh Boruch Hu wants him to keep his mind. But Hashem brought you together now just for the purpose of benefiting the both of you. That’s the shleimus of both of you.So if you walk in the streets and you see Jewish boys with yarmulkes and black hats coming out of the yeshivas or buses carrying children to yeshivos, so your heart should overflow with happiness. You’re looking at your people! Or you see a group of frum girls dressed b’tznius coming out of the Bais Yaakov schools, walking with decency, and wearing long skirts. It’s a pleasure to see!Your heart is full of happiness to see the Am Hashem. You walk through blocks and blocks and see fathers with children going to the beis hakeneses and you love to see it. Your heart swells with pride and happiness. You love your people. Hashem wants that. Some people are so happy when they see Jews. They just weep with joy when they see the Jewish people. My people, ami.THAT BOY WAS RUNNING TOWARDS HASHEMI’ll tell you a little story. There was a boy in Chicago. A true story – I won’t say his name but today he’s an important personality. He lived in a gentile neighborhood. He was a young boy and his heart yearned for his people so one day he got up, took a long walk to the east side of Chicago, to the Jewish neighborhood. And as he saw a Jewish child walking in the street, he burst into tears. This boy burst into tears. He was so emotionally happy. ‘Ahh! My people.” He felt connected to his people. A boy like that is headed towards not just people. He’s headed towards Hakadosh Baruch Hu.That’s why it does you very good to walk through Boro Park. Big mezuzos one after the other. Blocks and blocks of Jewish houses. And you’re thinking as you walk, “I’m walking among my people. בתוך עמי אנכי יושבת. It’s my people and I love them. I don’t care what hat he wears or what group he belongs to, it’s all my people!”You can’t even imagine what an opportunity you’re missing by not making use of this feeling of achvah, of brotherly camaraderie, that is available to you all the time. The next time you walk into shul and you see the Am Yisroel gathering to daven to Hashem, you should put your mind to work: “This is my nation! My brothers! And we all share the common purpose of serving Hashem.” And when you’re shopping in the kosher supermarket and it’s crowded, and the lines are long – those are precious moments! You’re looking down the aisles and all you can see are your “brothers and sisters”. Women, men, children, all buying kosher food. That’s a nation dedicated with a singular heart to Hakodosh Boruch Hu. ישראל אין להם אלא לב אחד לאביהם שבשמים – “The whole Am Yisroel has but one heart devoted to their Father in Heaven” (Sukkah 45b). It’s not just poetry; that’s actually the greatness of the Am Yisroel that binds us as brothers.THIS IS A CAREERNow this is not a small thing that you heard tonight. It’s a career. You have to be serious of course. You have to not only hear it, hearing is very important, you have to try to practice it. Now even though you do it a little bit, it’s a tremendous achievement. If you’ll think once a week about it, once a week, for two minutes on the subject of achieving a certain respect and love for kol hachaim, for all of your fellow Jews, then you know that you came to this world for a purpose!Now, all this might seem little queer for those who don’t know their purpose in the world. So when you go outside later and they’ll ask you, “What did Rabbi Miller speak about tonight?” So you’ll say, “He told us to love our fellow Jew.” They’ll laugh at you: “What’s the chiddush? Who doesn’t know that?!” But the truth is who does it?! Who thinks about it? If he loves, he loves; if not, what could he do already? He’s patur, he thinks. But no, we’re learning tonight that you have to work on loving the Am Yisroel, with an intense love. And you’ll do it by first of all recognizing that we’re an Am Echad.You have a big career ahead of you because when it says ואהבת לרעך כמוך, it doesn’t mean that you should tolerate him, or even that you should get along with him. It means that you should generate a ahavah, a love, a real love, for your fellow Jew. You have to understand how far away we really are from even beginning such an avodah. Of course, we’re willing to say that we agree with the idea. Maybe someday we’ll even come around to it. But we won’t. You won’t come around to it unless you start doing something about it. And when a person begins to understand that, and feel a little bit of love for all of his fellow ovdei Hashem, then he has achieved the perfection that Hashem expected from him since that day many years ago when He prepared twelve separate springs in Eilim for the Am Yisroel. It’s the perfection of choosing for yourself the good from all the shevatim, as well as the perfection of feeling a love, a real affection, for all those different than you. And those two methods of shleimus, are the main purpose of why Hakodosh Boruch Hu brought you into this world of the twelve different shevatim.HAVE A WONDERFUL SHABBOSGo Back See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Our story today bridges three different stories. The Sephardi Jews that made their way to Amsterdam, the Barbary Corsairs, and the Dutch in revolt all meet in today's story thanks to one mariner who was a pirate, a diplomat, a merchant, and a spy.

The Jewish Pirates of the West Indies have their roots in the Sephardi Jews of Spain. Today we tell their story from the destruction of the second temple in 70 CE to their arrival on Jamaica in the company of Christopher Columbus.

A lecture by Julia Phillips Cohen (Vanderbilt University)

A lecture by Julia Phillips Cohen (Vanderbilt University)

Jewish history professor Aron Rodrigue of  at Stanford University was the keynote speaker at an international conference held this week at the Van Leer Jerusalem Institute, dedicated to the Jewish history of Salonica. In the late 15th century, the then-Ottoman city (today the Greek city of Thessaloniki) welcomed large numbers of Sephardi Jews who had been expelled from Spain, making it very soon the largest Jewish city in Europe. A series of crises and disasters, culminating in the Nazi occupation in the 1940s, led to its ultimate destruction. This season of the Tel Aviv Review is made possible by The Van Leer Jerusalem Institute, which promotes humanistic, democratic, and liberal values in the social discourse in Israel.

A book talk by Sarah Abrevaya Stein (UCLA) with comments by Christine Philliou (UC Berkeley) and Roger Waldinger (UCLA)

A book talk by Sarah Abrevaya Stein (UCLA) with comments by Christine Philliou (UC Berkeley) and Roger Waldinger (UCLA)

As we are in the month of Elul - a month of preparation for the major Jewish holidays - host Marcela Sulak dedicates this week's podcast to poems that give a female insight into the holidays to come: Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Sukkot. All the poems are by Hava Pinhas-Cohen, here is an excerpt from "Follow the Arrow": "Now in Jerusalem, the Ashkenazi Jews are reciting the Selichot prayers. The Sephardi Jews began three weeks ago, chanting El Malei. Only the lines I left in the margins of pages I keep in drawers confirm that the weeping is long, and that it repeats itself like a Mizrachi song, without resolution, without mercy." For more information about the fascinating Hava Pinhas-Cohen, listen to our previous podcast "Poetry that bridges the divide." Text: The Selected Poems of Hava Pinhas-Cohen: Bridging The Divide. Bilingual Edition. Edited and Translated by Sharon Hart-Green. Syracuse University Press, 2015. Music:Freha Bat Yosef - Face Us In Mercy Matti Caspi - Hine Hine Hagevatron - Unetaneh Tokef Barimatango - Adio Kerida

Sarah Abrevaya Stein’s rich new book, Extraterritorial Dreams: European Citizenship, Sephardi Jews, and the Ottoman Twentieth Century (University of Chicago Press, 2016) takes readers on a global journey in search of late 19th and early 20th century Sephardi Jews with roots in the Ottoman Empire who sought citizenship within European nations for a variety of reasons, including socio-economic mobility and political refuge. While analyzing complex legal systems and the ways in which different nations viewed their extraterritorial subjects, Abrevaya Stein never loses site of the individual experiences of Jewish men and women. Indeed, by offering a series of case studies that range from Salonica during the Balkans War to 1930s Shanghai and Baghdad, she demonstrates how questions over citizenship and status were often determined by local politics and personalities and could lead to vastly different fates for these Jewish “proteges.” Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Sarah Abrevaya Stein’s rich new book, Extraterritorial Dreams: European Citizenship, Sephardi Jews, and the Ottoman Twentieth Century (University of Chicago Press, 2016) takes readers on a global journey in search of late 19th and early 20th century Sephardi Jews with roots in the Ottoman Empire who sought citizenship within European nations for a variety of reasons, including socio-economic mobility and political refuge. While analyzing complex legal systems and the ways in which different nations viewed their extraterritorial subjects, Abrevaya Stein never loses site of the individual experiences of Jewish men and women. Indeed, by offering a series of case studies that range from Salonica during the Balkans War to 1930s Shanghai and Baghdad, she demonstrates how questions over citizenship and status were often determined by local politics and personalities and could lead to vastly different fates for these Jewish “proteges.” Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Sarah Abrevaya Stein’s rich new book, Extraterritorial Dreams: European Citizenship, Sephardi Jews, and the Ottoman Twentieth Century (University of Chicago Press, 2016) takes readers on a global journey in search of late 19th and early 20th century Sephardi Jews with roots in the Ottoman Empire who sought citizenship within European nations for a variety of reasons, including socio-economic mobility and political refuge. While analyzing complex legal systems and the ways in which different nations viewed their extraterritorial subjects, Abrevaya Stein never loses site of the individual experiences of Jewish men and women. Indeed, by offering a series of case studies that range from Salonica during the Balkans War to 1930s Shanghai and Baghdad, she demonstrates how questions over citizenship and status were often determined by local politics and personalities and could lead to vastly different fates for these Jewish “proteges.” Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Sarah Abrevaya Stein’s rich new book, Extraterritorial Dreams: European Citizenship, Sephardi Jews, and the Ottoman Twentieth Century (University of Chicago Press, 2016) takes readers on a global journey in search of late 19th and early 20th century Sephardi Jews with roots in the Ottoman Empire who sought citizenship within European nations for a variety of reasons, including socio-economic mobility and political refuge. While analyzing complex legal systems and the ways in which different nations viewed their extraterritorial subjects, Abrevaya Stein never loses site of the individual experiences of Jewish men and women. Indeed, by offering a series of case studies that range from Salonica during the Balkans War to 1930s Shanghai and Baghdad, she demonstrates how questions over citizenship and status were often determined by local politics and personalities and could lead to vastly different fates for these Jewish “proteges.” Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Sarah Abrevaya Stein’s rich new book, Extraterritorial Dreams: European Citizenship, Sephardi Jews, and the Ottoman Twentieth Century (University of Chicago Press, 2016) takes readers on a global journey in search of late 19th and early 20th century Sephardi Jews with roots in the Ottoman Empire who sought citizenship within European nations for a variety of reasons, including socio-economic mobility and political refuge. While analyzing complex legal systems and the ways in which different nations viewed their extraterritorial subjects, Abrevaya Stein never loses site of the individual experiences of Jewish men and women. Indeed, by offering a series of case studies that range from Salonica during the Balkans War to 1930s Shanghai and Baghdad, she demonstrates how questions over citizenship and status were often determined by local politics and personalities and could lead to vastly different fates for these Jewish “proteges.” Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Sarah Abrevaya Stein’s rich new book, Extraterritorial Dreams: European Citizenship, Sephardi Jews, and the Ottoman Twentieth Century (University of Chicago Press, 2016) takes readers on a global journey in search of late 19th and early 20th century Sephardi Jews with roots in the Ottoman Empire who sought citizenship within European nations for a variety of reasons, including socio-economic mobility and political refuge. While analyzing complex legal systems and the ways in which different nations viewed their extraterritorial subjects, Abrevaya Stein never loses site of the individual experiences of Jewish men and women. Indeed, by offering a series of case studies that range from Salonica during the Balkans War to 1930s Shanghai and Baghdad, she demonstrates how questions over citizenship and status were often determined by local politics and personalities and could lead to vastly different fates for these Jewish “proteges.” Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices