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Kol Nidrei 5785 – Rising Antisemitism and Finding Hope

Rabbi Robin Nafshi

Ten years ago this evening, I gave a sermon on rising antisemitism and opened with the following story:

My grandfather, Gustav Leibowitz, my mother’s father, emigrated to the U.S. around 1905. His father had died, and he came here with his mother and two younger brothers from Romania. Although I was 16 when my grandfather died, I never asked him why he left his home. But I’m fairly certain I know the reason.

In 1866, the Romanian draft constitution declared that “religion is no obstacle to citizenship, [but] with regard to [foreign] Jews, a special law will have to be framed in order to regulate their admission to naturalization and to civil rights.” Romanians were outraged that foreign- born Jews could possibly become citizens; they destroyed the main synagogue in Bucharest, and assaulted Jews on the streets. Thus, the adopted constitution read, “only aliens of the Christian faith may obtain citizenship.”

The denial of Jewish rights occupied much of the political scene in Romania for years after. One group worked to ensure that foreign Jews remained non-citizens. In 1893, Jewish children were deprived of public education. In 1898, Jews were excluded from high schools and universities. And Jewish activists were expelled from the country as “objectionable aliens.” Laws prohibited Jews from settling in the countryside and relocated those that had done so; simultaneously, many Jewish urban inhabitants were declared to be vagrants and expelled. In 1905, around the time my grandfather left, a group of Jews who proved their Romanian birth – necessary to obtain citizenship – were thrown into the Danube River and drowned. I can only imagine the fear and horror my great grandmother felt for her sons.

Romania was not the only country from which the Jews ran. My mother’s mother’s family fled Poland. My father’s father’s family left Lithuania. And most of you here tonight whose background is Ashkenazi have relatives one, two, or three generations back who escaped some part of Eastern or Central Europe.

Sometimes called “the longest hatred,” antisemitism has persisted for over two thousand years. It began when the early Christian leaders declared that Jews were responsible for the death of Jesus. When Constantine converted the Roman Empire to Christianity in the 4th century, Jews were doomed.

During the 11th, 12th, and 13th centuries, Jews were victims of the Crusades. As Christian crusaders ran across Europe toward Jerusalem, they tortured and massacred tens of thousands of Jews. Prior to this time, Jews had been hated, expelled, and vilified, but never murdered.

Jews were also subject to the accusation of blood libel – that Jews used the blood of Christian children to make matzah. The first indictment came in England; it spread quickly across Europe. In due time, Jews were expelled from England, France, and Hungary.

Then Jews became scapegoats for the “Black Death,” the plague that killed as many as 200 million people in Europe in the 14th century. Our ancestors were minimally affected, probably because they ate kosher meat and Jewish law required frequent hand washing. But the populace did not notice or care. Rather, they murdered tens of thousands of Jews and destroyed over 200 Jewish towns.

Soon after, Jews found work as moneylenders, as Christians were prohibited from collecting interest from one another. With Jewish success in business came anger and envy. This prompted more expulsions – from Austria-Germany, Spain, Portugal, and the Italian Papal states. Jewish life shifted to Poland and Russia.

In the 16th century, Protestant Reformation’s leader, Martin Luther, expressed his fury with Jews over our rejection of Jesus. “We are at fault for not slaying them; rather we allow them to live freely despite their murder, cursing, blaspheming, lying, and defaming.”

At the end of the Middle Ages, Jews were subjected to pogroms, massacres, the worst of which was as the Chmielicki massacre in the mid 17th century. Ukrainian Cossacks sought to free Ukraine from Polish rule, and blamed the Jews for their woes. Over 100,000 Jews were murdered and another 300 Jewish towns destroyed.
With the Enlightenment, France granted citizenship to Jews, yet it was conditioned on our willingness to abandon age-old customs and communal identity. Napoleon convened the Jewish leadership and made them answer: Are you Jews first, or Frenchmen first?

Nationalism was one response to the Enlightenment; it rejected the idea that Jews could be equal. Ethnically homogeneous peoples, especially Germans and Czechs, decried the “alien” Jewish element in their midst.

By the early 1800s, millions of Jews lived under Russian rule. The Czar conscripted Jewish boys into the army at age 12, requiring service for up to 25 years, hoping they would forget that they were Jewish. Simultaneously, Jews across Eastern Europe were stripped of any land holdings and forced to live in the Pale of the Settlement.
Pogroms continued. Hatred of Jews was everywhere across Eastern Europe. It’s obvious why.

They were scared and hurt and poor. And they cried as they watched fellow Jews back in the old country be victimized for the losses suffered in World War I. And they, with the rest of the Jewish world, looked on with horror as antisemitism reached its unimaginable crescendo with the Holocaust.

And yet, through it all, we Jews survived and thrived. But our survival took a radically different form than what most people would consider survival. Denied the right to own property, hold most professions, and live freely, we Jews developed our minds, became scholars and rabbis, and then as quotas lifted, we disproportionately entered professions formerly closed off to Jews.

While the late 19th began the wave of Jews to the U.S., this was only one response to the antisemitism of Eastern Europe. Some Jews embraced communism, some looked to socialism, and others became Zionists, working toward creating a Jewish homeland.

Britain’s governance of the land and the Holocaust delayed the inevitable of the establishment of the State of Israel, but it did happen by a vote of the U.N. in 1947.
The Arab world voted “no,” as did some of their allies as well as countries that were hiding Nazi war criminals. And when Israel declared Statehood on May 14, 1948, it took the Arab nations fewer than 24 hours to declare war.

Many people assume that by 1947-1948, antisemitism in North America and Europe was mostly gone, replaced by an anti-Israel sentiment expressed by the Arab world. Certainly, the anti-Israel feelings dominated the Arab world. But to think that antisemitism was gone outside of the Middle East would be wrong. The primary difference between it and the Arab world’s anti-Israel attitudes was that anti-Israel expressions and actions were out in the open; antisemitism was mostly underground or covert.

That is, until 2014, the previous war in Gaza between Israel and Hamas. That war began after 33 months of steady rockets into civilian areas of Israel from Gaza. One week into the war, Israel accepted a ceasefire proposed by Egypt; Hamas rejected it, and the war lingered until August 27. This war unleashed in Europe a wave of antisemitism that had not been see in decade. Some examples:

• A rabbi in Morocco was beaten. A Swedish Jew was beaten with iron pipes. A French disabled Jewish woman was assaulted with stones.
• Arsonists set fire to a synagogue in Belgium and firebombed another in Germany. Nine synagogues in Paris were vandalized.
• A Jewish-owned pharmacy in France was destroyed. Signs posted in Rome urged a boycott of 50 Jewish-owned businesses. London protestors targeted a grocery store; the manager pulled all kosher products.

What was clear about this wave of antisemitism was that protesters made no distinction between Jew hatred and Israel hatred.

• At anti-Israel rallies in The Hague, demonstrators chanted “kill the Jews.” Similar calls were shouted at rallies in Belgium and Paris; the more evocative “gas the Jews” and “Jews, Jews, cowardly swine” were heard in Germany.
• In Belgium, on several occasions Jews were denied professional services, including a 90-year-old Jewish woman whose doctor told her to seek help in Gaza.
One of the few bright spots ten years ago was the support for Jews and Israel by European leaders. Then German Chancellor Angela Merkel told thousands at a rally in central Berlin that it was Germany’s duty to fight antisemitism. “That people in Germany are threatened and abused because of their Jewish appearance or their support for Israel is an outrageous scandal that we won’t accept,” Merkel said at the rally.

The foreign ministers of Germany, France, and Italy issued a joint condemnation of the antisemitic acts that arose across Europe. They met in Brussels to coordinate a response to incidents in Berlin, Paris, The Hague, Antwerp, and Brussels.

“Antisemitic agitation, hate speech against Jews, attacks against people of Jewish belief and against synagogues cannot be tolerated in our societies in Europe. We strongly condemn the outrageous antisemitic statements, demonstrations, and attacks in our countries in recent days,” they stated.

So here we are, ten years later. I spoke on Erev Rosh Hashanah about the horrific antisemitism and anti-Israel sentiments across the country on college campuses. Clearly those expressions go well beyond the quads, lawns, and buildings of academia.

In 2023, ADL tabulated over 8,800 antisemitic incidents in the U.S., a 140% increase from 2022, and the highest number on record since ADL began tracking such incidents in 1979. In fact, ADL noted more incidents in 2023 than the previous three years combined. Assaults increased by 45%, vandalism by 69%, and harassment by 184%.

Not surprisingly, the dramatic increase in incidents took place following October 7, with more than half of those referencing Israel, Zionism, or Palestine. But even omitting the Israel-related incidents, antisemitic incidents still rose by 65% from 2022. Just as in 2014, the rise in anti-Israel sentiment and the rise in antisemitism seem to go hand-in-hand.

But there is a significant difference between now and ten years ago – and it is not a good one. Whereas ten years Germany’s Merkel took the lead with her European counterparts in denouncing the antisemitism and anti-Israel actions, today, across Europe, voters are increasing their support for extreme right-wing candidates. What unites these voters, and their candidates, is the growing immigrant population, particularly of Muslims. This far right wing doesn’t want foreign influence, doesn’t like the European Union, and doesn’t want to be as integrated with the outside world.

There is usually a deep nationalist element as well – which is rarely good for the Jews. Even as most of these anti-Muslim governments now express support for Israel, many predict, that if Israel expands the war, Israel and the Jews may very well lose that support. Here are a few examples of extreme right-wing winners in Europe:

Viktor Orban has led Hungary since 2010. One journalist describes Orban as “[originally] one of the most promising defenders of Hungarian democracy [who is now] the chief author of its demise.” Orban’s political beginnings were rooted in the fall of the Soviet Union. Yet now he has become the closest ally of Vladimir Putin.

Italy’s head of government is Giorgia Meloni of the far-right Brothers of Italy party, which was founded after World War II by neo-fascists.

In the Netherlands, the far-right Party of Freedom’s Geert Wilders, who is anti-Islam and anti-immigration, won enough seats to try to form a government. While he failed, the coalition formed includes Wilders, who leads the immigration ministry.

In France, Marine Le Pen leads the National Front, a far-right political party. In 2012, she placed third in France’s presidential election. In 2017, she lost to Emmanuel Macron, receiving 34% of the vote. In 2022, she lost again to Macron, garnering nearly 42% of the vote.

Finland, Slovakia, Croatia, Sweden, Poland, Spain, Belgium, and the Czech Republic all have far right-wing parties in the government, or such parties have dramatically increased their share of votes in recent elections.

A September 2024 election is Austria saw the far-right Freedom Party place first, winning nearly 30% of the vote. It is the first time that a far-right party won the most seats in an election in Austria since World War II. The party was formed in 1950 by former Nazis. It is unclear if the party will be able to form a coalition.

Despite their electoral gains, most extreme right-wing political parties in Europe are unpopular, according to a Pew survey. Outside of Hungary, where the ruling party is favorable by only 55%, no other far right-wing party receives favorable ratings from a majority of its public. But being seen in a positive light is not necessary for electoral success. Low turnouts and limited popularity of other parties can catapult an extreme right-wing coalition to victory.

Let’s not think for a moment that antisemitism, anti-Israel acts, and extreme nationalism are limited to Europe. I mentioned earlier ADL’s finding of a dramatic rise in antisemitic incidents last year. The FBI and the Secure Community Network found the same. If you are unaware of the extent of the antisemitism in this country, let me tell you about an article I was made aware of this week by our member, Phil Kinsler. The Washington Post reported that X (formerly Twitter) users are repeating antisemitic tropes largely directed at FEMA director of public affairs Jaclyn Rothenberg, Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas and Asheville, N.C., Mayor Esther Manheimer. All three are Jews. The posts collectively attracted 159 million views and are hindering rescue efforts.

I’m a rabbi. I’m your rabbi. My job isn’t just to keep you informed about rising antisemitism and raise your anxiety levels. My job is to offer expressions of hope. So here are somethings to consider.

First, even in a painful and hard year, not everything was bad. We celebrated weddings and new babies, made new friends, fell in love, recovered from illness or injury, or just got out of bed each day. These are moments blessings. Remember the blessings.

Second, the High Holy Days ground us to our past and our traditions. No matter where we are – emotionally, physically, or spiritually – we are in a period of reflection, with an opportunity to refocus. And the rituals of the Holy Days can be familiar and comforting.

Third, let us remember that hope is not an erasure of loss and does not take away our hurt, but it does help to bring us back together, and connect us to each other to pull us out of despair.

Fourth, Rabbi Michael Marmur, one of my seminary teachers, points out that tikvah, hope, is related to the word kav, meaning line or cord. Lines can divide us – like lines on maps that are meant to keep us safe, but also create borders that keep us apart.

But the kav, the line or cord, also ties us together, pulls us toward each other, and can unite us. When we bind with those like us and to those unlike us, those in our communities, and those we might call “other,” we see that our fate is bound up in the fates of others. The place where we come together is a seam that pulls us together into relationship with each other. It is a place of tikvah, or hope.

Fifth, this past year, the U.S. House of Representatives had the opportunity to vote on a resolution condemning antisemitism, and on the Antisemitism Awareness Act, which would have the U.S. use the definition of antisemitism set forth by the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance in the enforcement of federal laws. The resolution received 311 votes in favor, 14 against, and 99 not voting or voting “present.” The Act, which many people felt was quite controversial, received 321 votes in favor, 92 against, and 18 not voting. It has been in the Senate since April, where it has been referred to committee. While these votes were not unanimous or even close, they do indicate support for the U.S. government to take a stance against antisemitism.

Finally, Naphtali Imber had the chutzpah to dream of a Jewish future of self-determination, free from antisemitism. He is the author Hatikvah, meaning, “The Hope.”
As long as in the heart within the Jewish soul yearns, and toward the Eastern edge, onward, an eye gazes toward Zion, our hope is not yet lost – the hope of two thousand years: To be a free nation in our land, the land of Zion and Jerusalem.

This remains our hope and our dream. May each of us do our part to ensure that the hope and the dream live on as long as the Jewish people live on. Ken y’hi ratzon.

Mon, February 17 2025 19 Sh'vat 5785