For 24 years, I produced and presented the only Jewish radio program in South Africa. The studio I used was in the same premises as a very popular radio station, and I often chatted to the presenters and managers during my weekly visits.
On one occasion, I approached the news editor and asked why the station had recently been devoting an inordinate amount of radio time to Jewish issues, not necessarily Israel.
At first, he denied it. But when I challenged him to check his programming schedules, he did and then had to acknowledge that I had a point. So when I asked for an answer as to why it was so, he said simply, “What should I tell you, rabbi. Jews are news.”
It has been many years since that conversation, but Jews are still news—and more than ever.
Today, Israel is in the news more than any other country in the world. A tiny country of some 10 million souls, occupying land smaller than New Jersey, continues to dominate international headlines and, more often than not, the reporting is negative, if not harshly critical.
I recently conducted a speaking tour in Australia. There is no question that Jewish Australians are bitterly disappointed in their national government leadership for doing nothing to curb the outbreak of antisemitism after the Hamas-led terrorist attacks in southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
They believe that their inaction gave license to the terrorist murderers of 15 people on Bondi Beach last Chanukah, in addition to other violent acts, like the firebombing of synagogues and Jewish businesses. They are shocked that this could happen in Australia, which was always a very safe and secure place for Jews. And so, they rightly feel quite vulnerable and anxious.
But is it any different from New York, the biggest Jewish city in the world, where the city’s new mayor, Zohran Mamdani, has just called AIPAC “monsters”?
Or Toronto, London, Paris or Rome? Unfortunately, not.
Gross, crude, vitriolic and violent antisemitism has erupted across the world, including in the most “civilized” centers of enlightenment and sophistication.
When I asked my Australian hosts which topic in my repertoire of lectures they preferred me to address, the reactions were interestingly different. One rabbi said his people were too tired of the subject of antisemitism, so he chose a different theme. Another rabbi said the opposite. His people were still reeling from Bondi, and they really needed to hear something constructive on that issue.
For me, having grown up in a free and fair America—a country of kindness and tolerance, where Jews were able to rise to the highest offices in every area of life, from Washington to Hollywood—it is almost impossible to grasp how it came to be that Jew-hatred has now become normalized. And I’m sure I speak for millions of my brothers and sisters in “the land of the free and the home of the brave.”
Were we naive?
Back in 1964, Jewish novelist Harvey Swados had a private audience with Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the Lubavitcher Rebbe. In those earlier years, it was much easier to book such appointments, and Swados had a lengthy conversation with the Rebbe, which he later wrote up in detail.
When they were discussing the Holocaust, Swados asked: “Rabbi, could it happen again?”
When I first read his account, I was absolutely shocked by the Rebbe’s answer: Morgen in di fri—“Tomorrow morning.”
Over the years, I struggled to come to terms with the Rebbe’s reply. Another Holocaust tomorrow morning? In America? I confess that I really couldn’t get my head around those words.
The Rebbe did qualify, adding that God would not allow it to happen again. But as far as the nations of the world were concerned, it could happen again tomorrow morning.
Sadly, all these years later, the Rebbe’s words ring all too true. Demonstrators and podcasters alike call for the destruction of Israel and the death of Jews wherever they may be—and get away with it! And they are becoming more brazen by the day.
The second of this week’s two Torah portions is Balak, where the heathen prophet Balaam attempted to curse the people of Israel, and instead, pronounced the most beautiful words of praise and blessings. Among them, he described Israel as being: “A nation that dwells alone and shall not be reckoned among the nations” (Numbers 23:9).
Indeed, we are alone. And now, even our one friend and trusted ally is also speaking in veiled tones. We certainly could use some friends in high places. But the United Nations is a sad joke, and the European Union isn’t far behind. And now, it turns out that we cannot rely on the Trump administration either.
The words of Rabbi Pinchas ben Yair in the Talmud (Sotah 49a) ring truer than ever: “Upon whom can we rely? Only on our Father in Heaven.”
Of course, we need each other, and we need a strong and powerful Israel. We also need a united Israel, where all the different factions can stand together in times of war and danger. We don’t have to agree on everything. That is impossible. But we could at least not undermine the Jewish state by our internal bickering. We each need to do good and do better.
In the final blessing of the Amidah, Sim Shalom, we say, “Bless us, our Father, all of us as one.” The rabbis comment that when we are together, as one, then through our unity we bring down upon us the blessings of God.
We surely need it now. Among the nations of the world, we are alone. Still, with Almighty God protecting us, we are never alone.
