Author: Luis Cattan

Jennifer Gorman

When I moved to Canada almost eighteen years ago, I easily believed the common assumption in Jewish sociological circles that the Canadian Jewish community is between one and three generations behind the United States. By the time we lived here a year, it was clear to me that this was a grand misinterpretation.

Growing up, I lived in New York, on Long Island, in the same house in the small town of Merrick. Since I left for university, I have lived in three countries and five US states, and I visited many others before I moved to Ontario. Each region of the United States has a distinct and immediately noticeable atmosphere and culture. Canada is no different. At first, it felt familiar. I already loved hockey when I moved to Toronto (Go Islanders!), so I knew all the words to “O Canada” (because of hockey) and the locations of major cities (where hockey is played). It seemed to me that moving among states illuminated more differences than moving to Canada. Toronto’s neighborhoods reminded me of Brooklyn from my childhood. It felt comfortable and familiar. But, over the last eighteen years, I have been privileged to spend time in six of Canada‘s ten provinces and work with the Jewish communities in others.

Officially, I have been Canadian for less than a year, having taken my citizenship oath the day after Rosh Hashanah, huddled around a laptop camera with my family. Much like potential converts who come to the beit din only after they are fully Jewish in their hearts, I can confidently state that, after eighteen years, I have been Canadian much longer than the paperwork attests. My children were raised here. I have watched every episode of Murdoch Mysteries twice. I own Team Canada Olympic mittens and a Canadian skater’s hat from the world‘s largest ice skating rink in Ottawa. I think I became Canadian when, almost ten years ago, I found myself queueing outdoors at a craft beer festival in Ottawa in February—and happy about it.

Although regional differences quickly make themselves apparent, it can take time to fully understand the unique personality of Canada and its Jewish community. Canada’s history influences its own development and the development of the cultures and communities that make it what it is. It will evolve along its own path and not according to American trends. That is not to say that we are not influenced by the same trends affecting the large Jewish population to our south. The Canadian Jewish community is certainly experiencing rising intermarriage and antisemitism, polarization, and frustration with Israeli policy, regardless of who is in power. But so do Jewish communities in other countries, and no one claims that they are just steps behind the United States. Nonetheless, with such a large Jewish population brimming with information so close by, it is rare that we get a deep dive into Canadian data.

Following the 2013 Pew report and changes to Canada‘s long-form census, a Canada-specific study was clearly needed. Anecdotal evidence showed that Canadian Jews were more connected to their Jewish communities, to Judaism, and to Israel. A 2018 survey of Jews in Canada was designed to discover what it means to be Jewish in Canada today, including our unique connection to Israel and Zionism. The data showed that, when it comes to Jewish issues, Canadians punch above their weight.

What weight is that? “The Pew Research Center (2015) estimated that the Jewish population of Canada was thirteen percent larger than that of France as early as 2010,” while others believe that Canada will have the third largest population by 2029.1 Whether Canada’s Jewish population is third or fourth in the world, Canada’s Zionism is first outside Israel.

From the start, “Zionism was… much more successful in Canada than the United States”2 The United States’s melting pot ideal encouraged all immigrants to become fundamentally American, a theme that would continue for many decades to come. Judaism also became Americanized. Jewish immigrants arrived in a country where Jews had lived since 1654, when twenty-three Sephardic Jews fleeing persecution arrived in New Amsterdam. Jews were present from the early years of the United States; they actively participated in the founding of the nation; settlement houses, established in large immigrant populations, took on the responsibility of teaching new immigrants to be American; and parents encouraged their children to speak only English. Canada’s Jewish foundations are different. Initially, non-Catholics were prohibited from entering the colony of New France. The first Jewish settlers in British Canada arrived in connection with the British army, followed by those in the fur trade. Mass immigration came later than it did to the United States. The Canadian Jewish community developed later, more slowly, and through different means than in the United States.

In Canada, Jewish communities remained separate even as they strove to become Canadian. Large numbers arrived from countries where Zionism was already taking hold to a Canada where nationalism was spreading due to the Boer War. These new Canadians were not immune to the nationalistic fervor.

[M]embership in Zionist societies skyrocketed during the war years, as Canadian Jews came to understand Palestine as ‘our fatherland, England, the British Empire as our motherland’…. [Whereas] Zionism seemed to run counter to the whole ethos of America…Americans had been accustomed to thinking of theirs as the new ‘promised land,’…the idea of seeking a place in the Palestine sun reeked of ingratitude.3

Within ten years of the first Zionist Congress, Canada’s Zionist Federation had swelled to forty-two chapters across the country, encompassing all Jewish denominations and levels of society.4

The Federation of Zionist Societies of Canada (FZSC) was the first Canadian Jewish national organization. Other Jewish organizations had made their way into Canada, but they were imports based in the United States. Canadian Jews were ready for a homegrown organization free of American influence, and they embraced the Canadian nature of the FZSC by ensuring that the board was filled with Jews from across the country. Annual FZSC conventions offered the community opportunities to address issues and advance interests important to Canadian Jews.5 The Zionist movement was about more than Zionism. It brought the geographically dispersed communities of Canada closer together, helping to unify Canadian Jews and the Canadian Jewish identity, in which Zionism would be central. This was true at the start of the twentieth century, and it is still true at the start of the twenty-first.

FZSC was Canadian and embraced as such not only by Jews, but also by greater Canadian society. Toronto’s mayor addressed the first convention along with a prominent professor from the University of Toronto and a member of parliament. Subsequent conventions included greetings from Ontario’s lieutenant governor and federal government ministers who assured the gathered delegates “that Zionism had the support of the [Dominion] Government…. The Canadian response, both gentile and Jewish, to Herzl’s summons was enthusiastic and universal.”6

It was not all so rosy. Canada’s Christian nature combined with its conservative attitudes led to more traditional reactions, both positive and negative, among Jews and the greater Canadian community. Canada is a Christian nation. In the early years of Zionism, religious zeal meant that Jews were often excluded from Canadian life. “Canada’s Jews not infrequently viewed themselves and were viewed by others as ‘resident aliens.’ … [Finding] themselves ‘most significantly devoid of all power,’ … they turned to Zionism.”7 Due to Christian exceptionalism, public schools often were Catholic or Protestant. “For many years Jews were deemed by Quebec legislation to be ‘Protestants for school purposes.’ …[Some] came to support Zionism because they could conceive of no proper place for Judaism in Canada.”8 Jews needed to create their own systems not only as a matter of Judaism, but also as a matter of survival. Even today, most Canadian Jews participate in one or more form of Jewish education. Close to half of Canadian Jews were educated in Jewish day school. This high rate of Jewish education leads to greater knowledge, which leads to greater connection.

According to the Canadian Jewish population study,

attendance levels at day schools or yeshivas are most notably a function of denomination…. [Being] most widespread among Orthodox/Modern Orthodox Jews (67%), followed by those who affiliate with one of the smaller denominations or movements (52%), Conservative Jews (43%), those who are unaffiliated (38%), and Reform Jews (24%). Day school experience is also a function of age cohort, with attendance levels more than twice as high among Jews eighteen to twenty-nine (68%) than among those fifty-five and older (31%). Across cities, day school attendance is highest in Montreal (54%) and lowest in Vancouver (33%), reflecting in part the denominational makeup of the Jewish community in each city.9

Although there is a significant difference in attendance rates from Orthodox to Reform, to say that even one quarter of Jewish children attend day school would be considered an astronomical figure south of the border.

The positive effect of Jewish schooling on community cohesion is evident. Comparing those who did not attend a Jewish day school or yeshiva with those who attended such schools for nine or more years shows that the latter are much more likely to believe that being part of a Jewish community, celebrating holidays with family, and caring about Israel are essential parts of being Jewish. Those who attended a Jewish day school or yeshiva for nine or more years are also significantly less likely to have intermarried.10

Of those who studied in day school one to eight years, 42 percent of Toronto Jews say they are very attached to Israel, with the percentage rising among those who attended for nine or more years. Beyond day school, Israel still figures high in the hearts and minds of Canadian Jews. For those who did not attend day school, Israel still figures high in the hearts and minds of Canadian Jews.

For those who did not attend day school, Israel still figures high in the hearts and minds of Canadian Jews. This translates into Canadians visiting Israel in numbers that almost double American trips and an increased knowledge of and ability to speak Hebrew. Interestingly, “the ability to carry on a conversation is most common among younger Jews and first generation Canadian Jews.”11 Almost twenty five percent of Canadian Jews speak Hebrew at home, including more than 45,000 Israeli Canadians (although the actual number may be closer to 60,000).12 Four in ten (40 percent) Canadian Jews say they can carry on a conversation in Hebrew. By comparison, only twelve percent of American Jews say they can do so.13 Estimates put Israeli expatriates at 14 percent of Canada‘s Jewish community and growing.14 Hebrew signs can be seen while driving along Bathurst Street, and I have done as much business in Hebrew while living in Toronto as I did during my seminary year in Israel, not only in Jewish businesses, but with trades and general businesses as well. Just last year, a motion proposed by two Toronto city councillors was approved to include a stretch of Bathurst Street among Toronto‘s cultural districts. “This area has been the heart and soul of Toronto‘s Jewish community.”15

Some of Canada‘s continuing connection may come from the concentration of Jewish communities. Canada covers 9,984,670 square kilometers.16 Within that massive area, Jews make up approximately one percent of Canada‘s population, about 392,000 people. More than 87 percent live in six major metropolitan areas: 82 percent live in Montreal, Toronto, Winnipeg, and Vancouver. Canada‘s 2021 census showed that one quarter of the Canadian Jewish population lives in Montreal. Almost one half live in the greater Toronto area.17 There is an anecdotal belief among Canadian Jews that a majority live not only in the greater Toronto area but within walking distance of Bathurst Street. If you search for “Canadian Jews Bathurst St,” you will get over two million results, many listing the myriad synagogues and other Jewish organizations that line the street.

This physical closeness breeds spiritual and familial cohesiveness. My spouse, Rabbi Sean Gorman, was the third rabbi at Beth Tzedec Congregation when we moved to Toronto. One of his responsibilities was to build and shepherd ḥavurot within the congregation. Within five years, only one ḥavurah was still functioning. Created as a young families group, the ḥavurah’s couples were primarily families who were geographical orphans or families in which one member of the couple was a convert to Judaism. Why? All the other ḥavurot had family obligations on weekends and holidays. Canadian Jews tend to stay where they are. Multigenerational families still gather weekly at parents’ homes for Shabbat and holidays. They are much less likely to go away to school, and, when they do, they tend to travel to specific schools where there is a significant Jewish population. When our younger son decided live in a dorm his first year of university, even though he was attending the University of Toronto, his friends and ours were surprised to learn he was thinking about dorm life and even more surprised to hear we were encouraging it. When our eldest went off to university in Nova Scotia, more than one person said to me, “That’s because you’re American,” even though we had been living in Toronto for a decade. The family closeness, the high Jewish education levels, and the lack of mobility encourages each generation to follow not just in the physical footsteps of the previous generation, but more importantly in their ideological path.

The United States claims its revolutionary past with pride. A close friend who grew up in the United States, but who has spent almost his entire life as a Canadian, finally became a Canadian citizen in his fifties. When questioned as to why, he only half-jokingly replied that, as an American, he did not want to swear fealty to the British Queen. I understand his point of view. Queen Elizabeth died just three weeks before I took my citizenship oath. I had prepared myself to affirm “that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the Second, Queen of Canada.”18 As Canadian as I consider myself, it unbalanced me to realize that I would instead be affirming allegiance to a king, especially as George VII had been circulated as a possibility for King Charles’s royal name.19 Canada’s independence came in 1867, almost a century after the United States, through legislative means and remains part of the British Commonwealth. It is at once progressive and conservative. Only as Queen Elizabeth aged did the number of Canadians who supported a referendum on removing the monarchy from Canada reach a majority. She was, and remains, a beloved monarch.20 While King Charles’s approval rating is only at 32 percent, that is an increase from a year ago, the increase likely connected to watching him in the role.21

Like the rest of Canada, the Canadian Jewish community continues to be more conservative, slower to change. This is true both denominationally and of the Canadian Jewish community as a whole. Our connection to Israel is no different. In examining Canadian Jewish attitudes toward Israel, as mentioned above, the population study found that “a large majority express an emotional attachment to Israel and have spent time in the country. Eight in ten have visited Israel at least once and have done so an average of five times to date”22 Notwithstanding what is happening in Israel, Canadians continue boots-on-the-ground Zionism. “Among those who have visited the country at least once, one in five (20%) says he or she has lived in Israel for a period of six months or more (this translates into 16% of all adult Canadian Jews).”23

While travel to Israel is highest among Orthodox/Modern Orthodox Jews (92%), “it is common across the population, especially among Jews under forty-five years of age (84%) and those with a post-graduate degree (83%),” regardless of denomination.24 Even where the percentages are lower, a majority still make the trip, including “Jews in Vancouver (64%), those with no affiliation (70%), and those who do not belong to any Jewish organization (63%).”25 When we compare Canadian and US Zionism, American Jews are only half as likely to feel a strong attachment to Israel and half as likely to have ever visited the country.26

The continuing strength of Canadian Zionism may also be a reflection of continuing immigration by Israelis and by Jews fleeing persecution in other countries. Montreal provides a safe haven for French-speaking Jews, second only to Israel. According to the most recent Canadian census, the Canadian Jewish community is growing, primarily through immigration. Although down from the 1990s, “immigration from Ukraine and Russia continues…. [T]he Russo-Ukrainian war may reverse that trend. Immigration from Israel and the United States has been trending upward.”27

With all our Canadian Jewish connection to Israel documented,

Canadian Jews over the age of seventy-four are twenty percentage points more likely than Canadian Jewish adults under the age of thirty to think that caring for Israel is an essential part of being Jewish…. This is the first Canadian evidence of a trend that has been documented in the United States over decades.28

Nevertheless,

it would be a mistake to base a historical forecast on these data, anticipating that as young Jewish Canadians age, the Canadian Jewish community’s support for Israel will weaken; unforeseen events that change people’s minds happen all the time. On the other hand, based on these results, it is possible to say that, barring unanticipated events that elicit an increase in young Jewish Canadians’ concern for Israel, the Canadian Jewish community may be somewhat less inclined to offer unqualified support for the Jewish state with the passage of time.29

Canadian Jews, like their US counterparts, are not monolithic neither in their views of Israel’s politics or government policies, nor in how they believe the Canadian government should support Israel. “The one notable difference is that American Jews are more apt to hold an opinion (whether positive or negative), while Canadian Jews have a greater tendency to say they are unsure or decline to offer an opinion.”30 Younger Jews here, as elsewhere, are increasingly critical of Israeli policies, which may come to affect the Canadian Jewish community’s and the Canadian government’s support of Israel.

While most Canadian Jews appear comfortable with the government’s current levels of support, there are significant numbers on both sides of the support spectrum. Recent changes in Israel’s government are certainly taking their toll. Recently, the New Israel Fund of Canada and Jspace Canada commissioned a poll, which found that “a majority of Canadian Jews feel that Israel is moving in the wrong direction.” This is unsurprising to many, coming two months after Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu formed his right-wing coaltion. Hundreds of thousands of Israelis continue to protest policies of judicial reform and infringement on civil rights.31 Since then,

[p]rominent Canadian Jews have also voiced objections to the Israeli government‘s proposed judicial reforms. Irwin Cotler, former justice minister and the current envoy on antisemitism, wrote in an essay in the Globe and Mail that the proposed changes to the Israeli Supreme Court “if adopted, will have the combined effect of seriously undermining the independence of the judiciary, its ability to review government legislation, the separation of powers and related checks and balances, the rule of law, and the protection of human rights.”32

It is less the attachment to Israel that is changing than the way Canadian Jews express that attachment.

Three quarters of respondents said that they are either “very attached” (thirty-four percent) or “somewhat attached” (forty-one percent) to Israel. Professor Robert Brym, of the Department of Sociology and Centre for Jewish Studies at the University of Toronto, who oversaw the survey said more surveys are needed to corroborate the findings. “However, this poll provides a fair baseline representation of Jewish community perspectives in issues of viral importance to the approximately 404,000 Canadians who identify as Jewish by religion or ethnicity.”33

Canadians, including Canadian Jews, are concerned that the Israel they love will be forever changed. With so many Canadian Jews feeling connected to Israel, spending so much time in Israel, and having family in Israel, major changes to policies that affect values seen by the Canadian Jewish community to be shared between Canada and Israel and part of their own set of Jewish values receive strong opposition. I recently attended a session on foreign policy at a conference sponsored by Canada’s conservative movement. Support for Israel was strongly affirmed and received applause. One speaker did state that we must treat Israel like any other country. When we see commitment to certain institutions being weakened, we must speak up like we would to any other country, to any of our friends and allies. I expect this is a line we will be hearing more in the future. In the current atmosphere of rising antisemitism, there is certainly a concern that silence from Jewish leadership may give strength to antisemites. Of course, there is a difference between quiet and silence, and disagreement on the path the Jewish community should follow.

Canadian Zionism, even in its criticism of Israel, remains strong. More and more, I see Canadian Jews comfortable speaking out when they disagree, considering this to be an act of Zionist love for their homeland, a country to which they continue to have a very strong attachment. Much like the relationships within a family ebb and flow without lessening the familial bonds, so, too, is the likely path of Canadian Zionism, from praise to criticism and back, even in one breath. We will continue to have two homes holding our hearts and minds.

Rabbi Jennifer Gorman is the National Director of Outreach and Programming, Canadian Jewish Political Affairs Committee. For eleven years prior to this position, she served as the Executive Director for MERCAZ-Canada and the Canadian Foundation for Masorti Judaism.

---

David Golinkin

The State of Israel was founded on May 15, 1948; I moved to Israel in September 1972. Thus, during the past few months, as Jews throughout the world began to speak more and more about “Israel at Seventy-Five,” I realized that I have been living in Israel for two-thirds of its existence. Therefore, I thought it fitting to write a retrospective essay about my fifty years in Israel. This is not a memoir. Rather, I would like to discuss three topics: the miraculous nature of the birth of the State of Israel in 1948, where we have succeeded, and where we have yet to succeed.1

The Miracle of 1948

After one pandemic, five elections, and seven months of political turmoil and terror attacks, it is not surprising that many Israelis, myself included, are feeling depressed. At times like this, one must remember the saying of Rabbi Elazar in the Talmud (Niddah 31a): ein baʿal haneis makir et niso, “a person involved in a miracle does not recognize his miracle.”

I believe that the rebirth of the State of Israel is a miracle. It defies logic. A people that had just lost one third of its members—six million men, women, and children—declared a state after an exile lasting 1,878 years. Both the United States and Russia approved that State. The United Nations approved that State. President Harry S. Truman approved that State, thanks to his close Jewish friend and business partner, Eddie Jacobson. And, after the State was declared, 650,000 Jews, with insufficient weapons and few allies, withstood the onslaught of seven Arab countries. The Jews who witnessed the founding of the State understood that it was a miracle. I would like to illustrate this by four vignettes presented in chronological order.

The first vignette is about Dr. Gabi Barkay’s Torah scroll. Barkay is a well-known Israeli archaeologist who discovered two small silver scroll amulets containing Birkat Kohanim from the seventh century BCE, which may contain the earliest quotation from the Torah. He is also the co-founder of the Temple Mount Sifting Project in Jerusalem, which has spent nineteen years sifting through 350 truckloads of dirt that was illegally removed from the Temple Mount by the Waqf and dumped in the Kidron Valley. The sifters, mostly volunteers, have discovered almost 600,000 artifacts from all periods of Jerusalem’s history. Barkay is also a longtime member of my synagogue, Moreshet Avraham in Jerusalem.

He was born in the Ghetto of Budapest in 1944, at a time when the Arrow Cross Party was murdering 80,000 Jews, many of whom they drowned in the Danube River. Most of the members of his family were murdered. He shared his crib in the Ghetto with a small Torah scroll that had belonged to his great-grandfather, who had his own little synagogue in his courtyard. About twenty years ago, Gabi decided to repair and donate that sefer Torah to Moreshet Avraham, and I was privileged to read from the Torah at that event. It had a simple mantle with no inscription.

Racheli Bin-Nun, another member of our synagogue, volunteered to make a new mantle and she wrote on it a verse from Ezekiel 37 (verse 14), which we read every year on Shabbat Ḥol Hamoʿed Pesaḥ. She chose that verse not only because it conveys the miracle of the State of Israel, but also because it conveys the personal story of her mother, Sabina Schweid, widow of Professor Eliezer Schweid, z″l, who spent fifteen months hiding underneath a stable with her mother and others in order to survive.

In the spring of 1946, when Sabina was fifteen, she and her mother were part of a “kibbutz” of survivors at Mainkofen, Germany. It was before Passover and they were preparing for the seder with their beloved teacher, Moshe Friedrich, an ʿilui (talmudic genius) who had been ordained at the age of sixteen, and who later died in the battle for Gush Etzion. Moshe for some reason did not teach them the traditional text of the Haggadah but the Vision of the Dry Bones (Ezekiel 37), which is read every year on Shabbat Ḥol Hamoʿed. As they were rehearsing for the seder and got to the words “and it was filled with bones,” someone began to wail, and they all cried together with him. Sabina Schweid recalls:

Even I, who had spent the war in “deluxe” conditions, had been in that valley. Even I remembered the bones poking out of the mass grave, the grave where my father was buried, where all my classmates were buried, all our friends, the entire city… But Moshe would not let us cry. He continued: “Thus said the Lord to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you and you shall live again! I will lay sinews upon you, and cover you with flesh, and form skin over you. And I will put breath into you, and you shall live again. And you shall know that I am the Lord!” (Ezekiel 37:5–6). The Prophet Ezekiel was talking about us and to us in the voice of Moshe Friedrich, because Moshe—like all of us—was in the same valley filled with “very dry bones”…2

The second vignette happened a short time after the dry bones episode, on April 23, 1948. It was recently recounted by Rabbi David Geffen in the Jerusalem Post. During the siege of Jerusalem, Rabbi Shlomo Goren, chief chaplain of the Jewish forces, had requisitioned matzah and other provisions for soldiers who were preparing for seders throughout Jerusalem.

When the largest Seder got underway in Jerusalem, Goren announced that a special Elijah would be arriving so a cup was filled for the special guest. To everyone’s surprise, David Ben-Gurion arrived, having been flown from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem in a Piper Cub. The soldiers were overwhelmed—the leader of their country, soon to be the nation of the Jewish people, had not forgotten them. Rabbi Goren recalled a portion of Ben-Gurion’s speech: “Tonight, this is the first time in the 2,000 years of Exile that the Jewish people are celebrating the festival of freedom and redemption as a free people back in its own land. The Seder concludes with the hopeful words ‘Next year in Jerusalem.’ You men are in Jerusalem fighting to liberate it and fulfill that destiny. Do not yield, but hold on to Jerusalem tenaciously.”

He spoke with tears in his eyes until it was time to return to his headquarters in Tel Aviv. But the soldiers were so packed in to the hall that it was impossible for Ben-Gurion to reach the exit, so they picked him up and passed him over their heads so that he could exit the building and fly back to Tel Aviv.3

The third vignette happened just three weeks later, on the night of May 14, 1948, just before Ben-Gurion declared the State of Israel. This is what Professor Mordecai Kaplan wrote in his diary: “In fifteen minutes from now, a new Jewish state will officially come into being. The mental and physical agonies of birth are beyond those suffered by any people known to history. May God grant that it will not be stillborn.” He then copied Ezekiel 16:4–6 in Hebrew: umoldotayikh beyom huledet otakh, “on the day you were born, you were left lying, rejected, in the open field. When I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood. I said to you: ‘Live in spite of your blood!’” He then continued:

No words of my own could possibly express any better the feelings that storm in my heart at this moment […] Even the verse which precedes them has significance for me: avikh haʾemori veʾimekh ḥitit [“your father was an Amorite and your mother a Hittite”]. The new state has been parented by the U.N. with the U.S. as its father, and the Soviet Republic as its mother; is sent forth by them into the world as a castaway, but God will say to this state as he said to the one of old bedamayikh ḥayi [“Live in spite of your blood!”].

[It] is 5:30 p.m. Judith and Ira [Eisenstein, his daughter and son-in-law] just phoned telling me Truman issued a statement at 6:01 p.m. recognizing the Jewish State. It is simply impossible for me to describe how I feel at this moment. Again and Again: barukh sheheḥiyanu veqiymanu lazeman hazeh [“Blessed…who has kept us alive and sustained us to this time”].4

The final vignette is a letter written by my father, Rabbi Noah Golinkin, z″l, in Yiddish on 3 Iyar 5711 (May 9, 1951), the day before the third Independence Day of the State of Israel, which was observed that year on the fourth of Iyar because of Shabbat. My father was then serving as rabbi in Arlington, Virginia, next to Washington D.C. Since he was very active in Zionist organizations and in close contact with the Embassy of Israel in Washington, he learned that the State of Israel was about to issue the first Israel Bonds. He bought a bond in honor of the first birthday of his nephew Meyer Goldstein and sent him a letter in Yiddish explaining the importance of the matter. As one can discern from the letter, my father knew that he had bought one of the first bonds, but he did not know that it was the first Israel Bond; this became clear only when the bond arrived in the mail. An excerpt from the letter appears below in English translation:

B″H 3 Iyar 5711 [May 9, 1951]

Sweet Yisrael Meirke!

Tomorrow is your birthday…

Tomorrow, you will receive in the mail a “Bond” from our long-dreamt-of State of Israel. Today is the first day when Bonds of the Jewish State will go on sale throughout the world, and you will be one of the first to receive a holy Bond from the Holy Land, which will connect your young life with the great, fulfilled dream of tens of Jewish generations.

You were born in a great time and, as you grow up, let the “Bond” serve you as one of the symbols of your connection [to Israel] and of your growth.

Your Uncle Noah…5

Dr. Gabi Barkay and Sabina Schweid, who had survived the Shoah; David Ben-Gurion, the founder of the State of Israel; Professor Mordecai Kaplan, a major American Jewish leader; and my father, Rabbi Noah Golinkin, who escaped from Vilna in 1938 and spent the war years trying to save the Jews of Europe—they all understood that the State of Israel was a miracle. Do we?

Where Have We Succeeded?

I believe that there are eleven areas where the State of Israel has succeeded and has lived up to the expectations of the five distinguished Jews described above.

The Ingathering of the Exiles—Mizug Galuyot

From 1948 to 1951, Israel’s Jewish population more than doubled, from 650,000 to 1,338,000. Between 1948 and 2022, Israel has absorbed approximately 3,400,000 new immigrants. I would like to share two typical stories, one about the IDF, and another about a course I teach. In the 1980s, I did my basic training in the IDF. My unit consisted of sixty-six soldiers from twenty-three countries, including Iran, Ethiopia, Italy, the Netherlands, Romania, Russia, Canada, and the United States. When I teach my course on the Haggadah at the Schechter Institute every other year, and I want to know the customs of different ʿedot, or ethnic groups, I do not just look in books. I simply ask my students what they and their parents do at the seder. They proceed to share the customs of Morocco, Tunisia, Iraq, Iran, Yemen, Germany, France, Russia, and so on. I believe that Israel’s feat of mizug galuyot is unparalleled in human history.

The Revival of Hebrew as a Spoken Language

Jews always read and wrote Hebrew from the destruction of the Second Temple in the year 70 CE until the nineteenth century, but, for the most part, they did not speak it.6 When Eliezer Ben-Yehuda and his wife Devorah began to speak Hebrew to their son Itamar in 1882, Itamar was probably the only native Hebrew speaker in the world. Today there are some 9,656,000 Hebrew speakers in Israel (including Israeli Arabs), even though thirty-six other languages are spoken in Israel. Every year approximately 8,300 new Hebrew books are published in Israel. This revival of a so-called dead language is also without precedent in world history.

The Israel Defense Forces (IDF)

The last time the Jewish people had an army in Erets Yisraʾel was during the Bar Kokhba Revolt, which ended in defeat in 135 CE. When the State of Israel was founded, there were actually three different armies: Haganah, Etzel, and Leḥi. They quickly became one army and won numerous wars. Today, the IDF is considered one of the best armies in the world and continues to defend the State of Israel against terrorists, Hamas in Gaza, and Hezbollah in Lebanon and Iran. It also serves as a major instrument for ingathering the exiles, as explained above.

Jewish Time and Space

In the State of Israel, Shabbat and all the Jewish holidays are national holidays. People can go to synagogue, go on field trips, or visit their families. Every public building has a ḥanukiyyah, or Hanukkah menorah, on top, there are hundreds of thousands of Sukkot, and if you drive around Israeli cities on ʿerev Pesaḥ or Lag Baʿomer, you will smell the ḥamets burning or watch the bonfires glowing. The IDF keeps kosher, and, when I served in the army, one could not eat on Friday night before someone made kiddush (it was usually me!). Cheese sales increase by 230 percent before Shavuot; Israelis consume 250 grams of honey per person during the month of Tishrei, 40 percent of their yearly consumption; and radio ads before Passover are set to the tune of the Ten Plagues or Eḥad mi yodeʿah.

Agriculture

Before and after 1948, a large percentage of the Israeli economy depended on agriculture. Today, while farmworkers make up only 3.7 percent of the work force, Israel produces 95 percent of its own food requirements, supplementing this with imports of grain, oilseeds, meat, coffee, cocoa, and sugar. Furthermore, since the 1950s, Israel has developed many important agricultural techniques and has taught them throughout the world, especially in poor countries in Africa and elsewhere.

Reforestation

Since the Jewish National Fund (JNF) was founded in 1901, it has planted over 250,000,000 trees in Israel. It is the only county in the world that ended the twentieth century with more trees than it had in 1900. In 1948, roughly 2 percent of Israel was covered in trees, and this has now grown to around 8.5 percent. This, too, is without precedent.

Water

Some 60 percent of Israel is desert. In addition, the population of Israel is twelve times greater than it was in 1948, not to mention millions of Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza who also need water. In 2009, there were television ads featuring Israeli celebrities warning people that they must conserve water or the Kineret would dry up. The government was seriously discussing bringing boatloads of water from Turkey. Israel dealt with this crisis in three ways: the JNF has built over 240 reservoirs and dams; close to 95 percent of wastewater is now recycled for agriculture; and Israel has built five major desalination plants, with two more to be completed soon. The result is that Israel now produces 20 percent more water than it needs, and that the level of the Kineret continues to rise. These methods are now being copied by many other countries in the world.7

Start-Up Nation

As documented by Dan Senor and Saul Singer in 2009, sixty-three Israeli companies were listed on NASDAQ, more than those of any other foreign country, even though Israel is ranked 100th in the world in terms of population and 153rd in terms of size (within the green line). Their book addresses the question:

How is it that Israel—a country of 7.1 million people, only sixty years old, surrounded by enemies, in a constant state of war since its founding, with no natural resources—produces more start-up companies on a per capita basis than large, peaceful, and stable nations and regions like Japan, China, India, Korea, Canada, and all of Europe?

They reply that this success stems from mandatory military service and immigration. But it is not just the number of start-ups; the inventions themselves have improved the lives of billions of people around the world. Among the inventions are Waze, Mobileye, USB drives, Check Point, which created the first firewall; Watergen, which produces clean drinking water from the air; Sniffphone and NaNose, which can smell diseases; ReWalk, which enables paraplegics to walk again; and PillCam, a medical camera that can be swallowed.

Medicine

Israel has one of the best medical systems in the world. There is universal health coverage, and every citizen belongs to one of the four kupot ḥolim, or medical plans. Health care is also much cheaper than most of the countries in the Western world, and the price for any approved drug is very low. Despite the fact that Israelis complain about it all the time, the medical system is quite efficient. A number of years ago, I had a problem with my shoulder. I went to an orthopedist, who sent me for an X-ray and an ultrasound; all of this happened on the same day and cost me next to nothing over and above my regular fee. Finally, Israel ranks sixth in the World Index of Healthcare Innovation, and Sheba Medical Center, Israel’s largest hospital, was recognized as among the best medical centers in the world, ranking 13th on Newsweek’s “World’s Smartest Hospitals for 2023.”

Academia

The number of academic institutions in Israel went from two in 1948, to seven in the 1970s, to fifty-nine today. The number of students grew from 1,600 in 1948, to 56,000 in 1980, to 200,000 in 2000, and to 342,000 in 2023. In other words, while the population of Israel grew by a factor of twelve in seventy-five years, the number of students in academic institutions grew by a factor of 213! Finally, Israel has produced thirteen Nobel Laureates, which ranks us as 15th in the world, even though we rank 100th in terms of population.

Happiness

In 2023, Israel was ranked 4th on the World Happiness Index. The top ten countries are Finland, Denmark, Iceland, Israel, the Netherlands, Sweden, Norway, Switzerland, Luxembourg, and New Zealand. This is not a fluke. Every year since this Index was founded in 2012, Israel has been found among the top fifteen in terms of happiness. The only difference is that some of the other countries have not been at war since World War II, and some have never been at war, while Israel has been at war for all seventy-five years of its existence. How can this be explained? Some of it stems from the list above. Another explanation is the emphasis in Israel on family and children, and the feeling that kol yisraʾel ʿarevin zeh bazeh—that all Jews are responsible for one another.

Where Have We Not Yet Succeeded?

There are seven important areas where the State of Israel has not yet succeeded.

The Palestinians

The first and most well-known dilemma is the Palestinian problem. I am hesitant to discuss this because I know that whatever I write will anger someone. Yet this, too, is part of Israel at seventy-five. Much of the Western world and especially the United Nations blame Israel for the fact that Palestinians are still living in refugee camps instead of in their own state. These claims are not borne out by the facts.

Abba Eban famously said after the Geneva Peace Talks in December 1973: “The Arabs never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity.” This is true. In 1947, Israel accepted the UN partition plan, while the Arab League and all Arab factions rejected it. After the Six Day War, many Israelis were interested in returning all or part of the territories captured in return for a peace treaty. The Arab League responded with the Khartoum Resolution of September 1967, which contained the “Three Noes”: “No peace with Israel, no negotiation with Israel, no recognition of Israel.”

In 1993, Israel and the Palestinians signed the Oslo accords. Like many Israelis, I was in favor of the accords, and I published a responsum explaining why it was permissible to give up some of the territories for the sake of a peace treaty.8 Unfortunately, within a short amount of time, the accords literally blew up in our faces. From 1993 until 2000, almost three hundred Israelis were killed in terrorist attacks, including many horrific suicide bombings in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and Bet Lid.

In July 2000, at the Camp David Summit, Ehud Barak offered Yasser Arafat 92 percent of the territories; Arafat rejected this, and in September the Palestinians began the Second Intifada, which lasted for five years and led to the death of some four thousand Israelis and Palestinians. In August 2005, Israel withdrew from Gaza; the Palestinians immediately burned down all of the synagogues and greenhouses of the Jews who had lived in Gush Katif. In June 2007, war broke out in the Gaza strip between Hamas and Fatah; Hamas emerged victorious after killing many Fatah supporters. Since 2001, Hamas and the other terror organizations have shot more than twenty thousand missiles at Israel, which has forced Israel to wage eleven military campaigns against Gaza.

Some claim that the Palestinian leaders are the problem; the Palestinian people really want peace. This, too, is not supported by the facts. An in-depth analysis of 330 surveys conducted by four major Palestinian research institutes between 1993 and 2015 revealed that from 1993 to 2000, 42 percent of Palestinians favored armed attacks against Israeli civilians. From 2000 to 2015, a solid majority supported such attacks and, on occasion, specific suicide attacks on civilians were approved by 74 percent or 84 percent of Palestinians.9

A friend of mine lived for many years in a Jerusalem on a street that borders the Arab neighborhood of Jabel Mukaber. During the First and Second Intifadas their house was attacked by stones and Molotov cocktails over one hundred times. In 1989, she helped initiate a dialogue program with some of the Palestinian women. At the second session, which took place in Jabel Mukaber, she said: “Why not talk about making peace?” One of the Palestinian women replied: “As soon as there is a Palestinian State, there will be peace, but it might be a problem for you: Where will you live?”

I understand that many Americans and Europeans think that every problem has a solution. Yet we now know from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan—which cost trillions of dollars and the lives of 6,833 American soldiers, as well as over 52,000 who were wounded—that you cannot impose democracy on Arab societies that have never had a democracy and have no desire to have one. I do not know the solution, but the overwhelming majority of Israelis believe that if Israel withdraws from more territories it will endanger the very existence of the State of Israel without leading to any solution.

The Haredi Dilemma

When the State of Israel was founded, Ben-Gurion gave some four hundred Haredi yeshiva students an exemption from serving in the army. In 1977, when Menachem Begin and the Likud took over, they allowed over eight thousand such students, and they proceeded to exempt more and more students as part of coalition deals with the Haredi parties. Today there are over sixty thousand such students, but, in order to get an exemption, you must stay in a yeshiva. The result was that the State of Israel itself created a situation in which up to 13.3 percent of the population, who elect some eighteen members of Knesset, do not study the required core subjects in school, do not serve in the IDF, and do not start working, if at all, before the age of thirty. Not serving in the army and studying Torah at the public’s expense are diametrically opposed to Jewish law and are not sustainable in the long term.10

The Religious Zionists

From 1948 until the early 2000s the Mizrahi or Mafdal party consisted of Modern Orthodox Jews such as Yosef Burg, Zevulun Hammer, and Zevulun Orlev, who believed that observant Jews should combine work, IDF service, and Torah study and did their utmost to coexist with secular and traditional Jews. Yet, as Rabbi Yitz Greenberg stressed in a recent article, the Religious Zionist Parties today, as exemplified by Bezalel Smotrich, Itamar Ben-Gvir, and Avi Maoz, are almost the diametric opposite of classical religious Zionism.11 These politicians hate Arabs, Conservative and Reform Jews, and gay people; they want Israel to be governed by halakhah; and they want Israel to annex the entire West Bank. This trend began after the Six Day War as a result of the messianism of Rabbi Tzvi Yehudah Kuk and his disciples. Since then, it has morphed in various extreme directions. There is no easy solution to this problem, but this sector of the voting public will continue to have a big effect on Israeli politics.

Jewish Education

Despite what I wrote above about the beauty of Jewish time and space in Israel, a lack of serious Jewish education is one of Israel’s greatest failures.12 Israeli Jews speak Hebrew and study the Tanakh as history, but most of them who attend the secular public schools in Israel have not received a serious Jewish education. They have not studied basic rabbinic texts such as Pirqei Avot, Mishnah, Talmud, Midrash, Rashi, the Siddur, or medieval Jewish history and philosophy. Even though, as I explained above, most Israeli Jews observe the Jewish holidays in a culinary fashion, their knowledge of the Jewish holidays is for the most part extremely superficial.

Here is one typical example out of hundreds. On ḥol hamoʿed Pesaḥ I was listening to a talk show on Reshet Bet, Israel’s most popular radio station. One of the hosts has been a radio and television presenter for forty years and in 2017 she received a lifetime achievement award for outstanding journalistic work. She was discussing with her co-host and a guest the fact that it is difficult for many Israelis to understand the Haggadah. She said: “The Haggadah is written in Aramaic; it really needs to be translated into Hebrew so that Israelis will understand it!” Not only is this statement totally incorrect—only the Ha laḥma paragraph and the song Ḥad gadya are in Aramaic—but the two men involved in the discussion agreed with her!

Unlike some of Israel’s other problems, this problem has a simple solution: make sure that every Israeli child and adult receives a Jewish education. Indeed, that is the goal of the Schechter Institutes, and that is why we now run programs for over 125,000 Israeli children and adults every year.

Religious Pluralism

As I have explained elsewhere, this, too, is one of Israel’s greatest problems.13 The Chief Rabbinate and the religious establishment in Israel are a coercive bureaucracy without a constituency, controlled primarily by Haredi rabbis. They make life difficult for those who wish to make aliyah, convert, get married, or receive kashrut supervision. This monopoly has not led to greater observance. On the contrary, it has led to a situation in which many Israelis dislike Judaism or simply find ways to work around this religious coercion. For example, approximately 25 percent of young couples, including some Modern Orthodox couples, now get married in Israel by Conservative, Reform, and secular rabbis and obtain a civil license in Cyprus or elsewhere. This problem, too, has a solution: religious pluralism. Either the State should fund no rabbis or it should fund any synagogue and its rabbi, regardless of the denomination. It is not the State’s job to define which rabbis and synagogues are “kosher.”

Judicial Reform

I have written elsewhere about Israel’s current judicial crisis and stressed the need to maintain checks and balances between the Knesset and the Supreme Court on the basis of precedents from the Bible until today.14 Our current crisis stems to a large extent from the fact that Israel has no constitution. When the State was founded, Ben-Gurion was so preoccupied with other major challenges such as wars, food shortages, and immigrant absorption that he decided not to deal with this challenge. This lack of a constitution has now come back to haunt us in a big way. I do not think that it is possible to write a constitution in the middle of our current crisis. But I hope and pray that President Herzog’s mediation efforts will bear fruit and lead to a true compromise between the two main voting blocs in Israel.

Jewish Unity

In a recent video in honor of Passover, I asked the question: What can we learn from the story of the Exodus that can help us weather the current storm in the State of Israel?15 I proceeded to compare the behavior of the children of Israel in the desert for forty years after the Exodus and the behavior of ʿam Yisraʾel, the Jewish people, in the State of Israel since 1948. I concluded that video as follows:

Since 1948, we have been privileged to witness the ingathering of the exiles—Kibbutz Galuyot—in the State of Israel, but that does not mean that we are one united people. Many of the politicians leading the so-called “Judicial Revolution” these past few months have stated very clearly that their motives are ethnic—to show the Ashkenazi elite that the ʿedot hamizraḥ [the Jews from Islamic countries] are now in charge, or revenge for the disengagement from Gaza in 2005. I can only say to all of this: Loʾ zo haderekh! This is not the correct path. The correct path is that of President Isaac Herzog: to sit and to talk and to compromise—however long it takes.

Rabbi Yehoshua said in the tractate of Rosh Hashanah (folio 11a): “In the month of Nisan we were redeemed [from Egypt]; and in the month of Nisan we are destined to be redeemed.” And what will lead to geʾulah, what will lead to redemption? We have a very clear answer in Midrash Tanḥuma (ed. Buber, Deuteronomy, pp. 48–49): “God will in the future shine upon you the light of the world… When? When you will all be one bundle… According to the custom of the world, if you take a bundle of reeds can you break them all at once? But if you take one reed at a time, even a child can break that reed. And so you find that the Jewish People will only be redeemed if they become one bundle….”

The secret of redemption is that the Jewish People become agudah aḥat, one bundle. The secret of redemption is for us to stop fighting with each other and start working with each other.

Of all the unfinished problems of the State of Israel, this last one is the most crucial. We will be able to solve our major problems only if we work together as one united people.

The founders of modern Zionism and of the State of Israel wanted Israel to be an or goyim, “a light unto the nations,” in keeping with the prophecies in Isaiah 42:6 and 49:6. I hope and pray that we will have the wisdom to fulfill that dream.

Rabbi Professor David Golinkin serves as President of The Schechter Institutes, Inc. in Jerusalem. He is author or editor of over sixty books devoted to Jewish law, midrash, liturgy, and other areas of Jewish studies.

---

David J. Fine

In late 1915, shortly before he died, Solomon Schechter composed a letter to the journal The American Hebrew in which he addressed issues of Zionism, nationalism and populism. The version of the letter printed below is the text of Schechter’s handwritten draft. While there also exists a tighter and more restrained typed version in the archival collection of the Schechter Papers preserved at the Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary (JTS), I opted to share the earlier “first draft” because it represents an uncensored Schechter.1 Following an introduction on the context of the letter, I present the text with some brief annotations in the notes, followed by an epilogue on reading Schechter’s letter over a century later.

Introduction: The Context of Schechter’s Letter

Much has been written on Schechter’s “Zionism: A Statement” first published in 1906.2 In that essay, explaining why he was joining the ranks of the Zionist movement, Schechter aligns himself with the cultural Zionism of Aḥad Haʿam, adding to it his sense of the spirituality of Jewish religious culture. As he writes: “To me personally, after long hesitation and careful watching, Zionism recommended itself to me as the great bulwark against assimilation,” later on defining assimilation as “loss of identity.”3 Schechter opposed the “Uganda Plan,” the British offer of a tract of British East Africa as an autonomous Jewish territory that Theodor Herzl had presented to the Zionist Congress in 1903. “It is not only desirable but absolutely necessary,” wrote Schechter, “that Palestine, the land of our fathers, should be recovered with the purpose of forming a home for at least a portion of the Jews, who would lead there an independent national life.”4 But Zionism offered as much a cultural solution for the Jewish people as a territorial one, as Schechter understands “Galuth” (exile) as applying to “Judaism” as well as to “Jews.”5 Schechter summarizes his position as follows: “I belong to that class of Zionists that lay more stress on the religious-national aspects of Zionism than on any other feature peculiar to it. The rebirth of Israel’s national consciousness, and the revival of Israel’s religion, or to use a shorter term, the revival of Judaism, are inseparable.”6 In Arthur Hertzberg’s analysis, Schechter’s 1906 statement,

a reinterpretation of Ahad Ha-Am in the context of Schechter’s own unfanatical but traditionalist religiosity, naturalized cultural Zionism in America. Above all, Schechter imparted a Zionist temper to the Conservative movement in American Judaism, of which he was the master builder, both intellectually and institutionally, so that it remained henceforth the most overwhelmingly Zionist of the three major Jewish religious groupings in America.7

Schechter’s Zionism as a Jewish cultural nationalism was rooted in his religious conservatism. His clearest statement on this matter appears in an essay that he never published, most likely because of its harsh treatment of Reform Judaism, but it appeared in the posthumous collection of essays that made up the third series of his Studies in Judaism:

Jewish nationalism is not a creation of the nineteenth century. Its compact with religion was eternal…. It was just those things that distinguished us from our surroundings (not for the things which we had in common with them) and separated us from the nations, such as the devotion to the Pentateuch, the keeping of the Sabbath, the observance of the Covenant of Abraham, and the loyalty to the dietary law, to which we clung for thousands of years with all our life and for which we brought numberless sacrifices. Is this now the time, when the thought of nationalism is universally accepted, to destroy it as far as Israel is concerned? Should we rather cherish it as the best antidote against the poison of utter assimilation which threatens us as never before?8

For Schechter, the development of the various nationalist movements in the nineteenth century opened a door to a conviction of Jewish religious conservatism. Where the various nationalist movements sought to uncover the traditions of the peoples they represented, Jewish nationalism should do and has done the same. In this posthumously published essay penned against the universalism and antitraditionalism of Reform Judaism that, in Schechter’s view, threatened the continuity of Jewish identity, Schechter argues for a more Romantic and nationalist Judaism that celebrates the basic observances that were being abandoned by the Reform Judaism of his day. His embrace of Zionism as Jewish nationalism must be understood in this context, just as the Conservative Judaism that Schechter taught and established must be understood as a Romantic and Jewish nationalist response to the universalism and rationalism of Reform Judaism.

Schechter’s letter to The American Hebrew, reprinted here, was written in 1915, nine years after his “Zionism: A Statement.” The letter must be read as a reaffirmation of both Schechter’s embrace of Zionism and his growing apprehension about and disapproval of the secularist nature of the Zionist movement. The developments that are reflected in this tense and raw exposure of his thoughts are the outbreak of World War I in Europe, the rise of Louis D. Brandeis (1856–1941) as the leader of American Zionism, and Brandeis’s project to establish an American Jewish congress.

One of the many dramatic effects of the war was to reveal the catastrophic potential of nationalist movements. Schechter understood, presciently, that Zionism needed to be shielded from the type of nationalism that brought about the outbreak of war in 1914. From his perspective, the European national rivalries were secular, unlike his understanding of the Zionist movement that was rooted in Jewish religion, history, and culture. He was, therefore, doubly wary of the ascension of Brandeis, a secular American Jew, to the leadership of the American Zionist movement.9 Brandeis was later to become a hero of American Jewry, nominated the following year by President Woodrow Wilson as the first Jew to serve as a Supreme Court justice. He would also play a key role in securing Wilson’s support for the Balfour Declaration in 1917. Both developments predate the contentiousness that comes across in Schechter’s letter. While the American Zionist movement’s “ranks and treasury swelled as never before,” a development that Jonathan Sarna credits to Brandeis’s “persona, mystique, charm, prestige, fluency, sincerity and passion,” Brandeis also found himself walking into a minefield of intra-Jewish politics.10 Zionism and its assertion of Jewish nationality was so controversial among American Jewry that Brandeis, after finding himself accosted by hecklers at an American Jewish Committee conference in 1916 and criticized by the New York Times for bringing embarrassment to the Supreme Court, felt compelled to resign his chairmanship of the American Zionist movement.11

In 1915, Schechter was agitated by Brandeis’s efforts to establish an American Jewish congress. Brandeis was engaged in a political battle with the older, established (and less Zionist) leadership of the American Jewish Committee. His vision was to create a democratically representative congress to represent American Zionism and American Jewry in general before the expected deliberation of the victorious powers at the conclusion of the war.12 Brandeis’s appeal to a broader democratic base for Jewish politics should be understood in the context of the broader progressive movement of the time, represented by both Wilson and Theodore Roosevelt. The progressivist success in promoting democratic power over the old establishment is best exemplified by the ratification of the Seventeenth Amendment to the United States Constitution in 1913, establishing direct election of United States Senators rather than their selection by state legislatures. Brandeis, a member of the Wilsonian progressivist movement that saw the passage of the Seventeenth Amendment as one of its successes, applied the same approach to Jewish politics, to Schechter’s dismay.

Ironically, Brandeis and Schechter were aligned in their support for the Allied nations against the Central powers in the war. Earlier in 1915, Schechter wrote how he yearned for “the glorious prospect of England one day annexing Palestine with God’s help. I argue with all my friends that this is the only solution for which we should hope.”13 Schechter could manage the opposition to his support for Zionism on the part of his colleague Cyrus Adler and his trustee Jacob Schiff, for he did so as an individual, not on behalf of his institution, JTS.14 But speaking out on behalf of England when the United States was still neutral in the war was not something he could do. The United States would not join the war until two years after Schechter’s death. In 1915, the German Jewish elite of American Jewry would have supported Germany in the war, as did most Jews who championed Germany’s “liberation” of the Jews in Eastern Europe from the yoke of Russian tsarist oppression.15 Schechter would certainly have celebrated the Balfour Declaration and, later, Britain’s victory over the Ottomans and conquest of Palestine. But he could never have supported Germany, having experienced antisemitism in Berlin as a student, followed by great professional success in Britain. Schechter is remembered as saying when the war broke out that “my next book will be by Professor Butcher [as opposed to “Schechter” which, while Yiddish, sounds German and in the latter language means “slaughterer”]. I won’t have anyone thinking from the sound of it that I belong to that race of barbarians.”16 These ironies aside, Schechter penned his letter in late 1915 attacking Brandeis for his congress plan for American Zionism.

Schechter’s opposition to an American Jewish congress was consistent with his conservative tendencies. Ten years earlier, he opposed the Reform proposal of a Jewish synod, concerned that such a body would legislate popular reforms and, as such, lose sight of the wisdom of Jewish tradition and law.17 When his opposition to Brandeis and the congress caused Schechter to be, in the words of Norman Bentwich, “denounced as an enemy of democracy and Jewish nationalism,” Schechter sought to clarify his views in the letter presented here.18

Text of Schechter’s Letter

Sir: It is now some ten years since you granted me the privilege of publishing my “Statement” on Zionism which led, as your readers will remember, to a great deal of discussion and criticism.19 May I now beg again for the privilege to state my present relation to the Movement and its peculiar side-issues which have come to light during the last months? I may as well state at once that I am still adhering in my loyalty to the Movement as I was years ago. Otherwise, I would not have incorporated the “Statement” just mentioned in the volume which was the subject of review in these columns some time ago,20 though I did not hesitate for a moment to express my fears and anxieties about certain aspects of the Movement chiefly owing to the interpretation of the principles of the Movement by certain leaders with whom religion is a negligible quantity in the scheme of Zionism.21 It was for the same reasons that in my last graduation speech I expressed my disapproval of converting the pulpit into a nationalistic platform in which the religious aspect of the Movement is almost entirely suppressed, thus secularizing our Synagogues and suppressing all those aspirations and hopes of the Jews attaching themselves to the ideal of God’s people and a holy nation.22 I acted in accordance with my conviction expressed years and years ago that we can as little have Jews without Judaism as Judaism without Jews.23 That this expression was sure to bring on me a shower of abuse and all sorts of insults in print and in letters, mostly anonymous, was foreseen. And I did foresee it. But I never hesitated to declare freely my principles on account of possible consequences—and least of all would I keep back my convictions because of the fear of unpopularity. Popularity does not form a part of my happiness. I never courted the people, nor will I begin to do so now.

So as to my present attitude towards the Movement. As I have said, I still adhere to the cause of Zionism, as far as it does not collide either with one’s religious principles or scientific convictions. But there were also lately brought up what I call side issues which have practically nothing to do with the Movement, and were only forced on us by Mr. Brandeis. For good or for evil, I belong to those whom Mr. Brandeis stigmatized lately as the Bonzes.24 To what class Mr. Brandeis belongs I do not know. But he impresses me as something of a homo novus, or rather as a Judaeus novus, having had till lately no affiliation at all with Jewish affairs, either religious or even philanthropic and educational. His accession to Zionism is decidedly a great gain for the Movement, considering his social position and his organizing abilities. But his methods are extremely objectionable. He has brought into Zionism a factor which has certainly no bearing on the Movement; and whilst preaching always unity, I can only see that he has brought about a split in American Israel as never known before. We are living now in dreadful times,25 and if there ever were a time when silence was golden, it is this time, when we are being closely watched by the Jewish and Christian world at large, especially by the latter, and whenever any incautious word, any denunciation is sure to be reported by the agents of the Great Powers to their superiors, and have an immediate effect on the fortunes in the power of these superiors. A world of mischief has already been done by our papers, whose partisanship as unrestrained comment on behalf of the Central Powers has certainly not made the task of our brethren in England and France easier.26 We are not considered there as neutrals, but as outspoken Pro-Germans, at war with the whole world except with the Teutonic Powers.27 And now Mr. Brandeis comes and is determined to force upon us a Congress, in which the Jewish problem should be discussed, followed by action. This means to commit the whole of American Israel to the views which will be aired there by the men versed in the art of shouting and agitating. The reason Mr. Brandeis gives is that such agencies as they existed till now, as for instance, the American [Jewish] Committee, are not an expression of popular opinion, the men at the head of affairs there not having been elected on democratic principles, not knowing the will of the people, which alone are justified to act. I may premise that I am in no way connected with the American Jewish Committee, or with the Kehillah, or with any other organization dealing with such problems.28 On the other hand, I do object to the cry of “undemocratic.” Suppose it is not democratic? Suppose I distinctly object to democracy? Suppose I think that it is only the very few chosen distinguished for their tact, discretion, experience, influence and connection with the influences that be, is there any reason to declare me as disloyal to Jewish principles in general, or Zionist principles in particular? As far as my experience goes, it was not the multitudes who wrought the great miracles in American Israel. It was the chosen few who built up our institutions, who called into life our Orphan Asylums, our Hospitals, our Reformatories, our Homes of the Aged and Incurables, who maintained our institutions of learning, who erected our libraries, who created our Synagogues, and made an American Israel possible. Without them we would have been a mere wilderness, without any intellectual, educational and philanthropic factors in the country. It was those few who threw themselves into the breach, whenever misfortunes threatened Israel either here or abroad. It was they who watched for every opportunity to ameliorate our conditions, spiritual as well as material, whether at home or abroad. And it is my conviction that [it] is only these few who have both the will and the power to make our claims felt in the councils of the nations when the time comes. Their past, which testifies so greatly to their sense of responsibility, is the best guarantee which we have for the future. All these are matters which apparently Mr. Brandeis is unaware of or has failed to realize. What Mr. Brandeis has further failed to realize is the demagogic element in all this Movement. If he would know something more of the history of this community, he could not fail to see that some of his associates who speak so glibly of the will of the people, the conscience of Israel, etc., are only seeking to pay off old scores. It is the very people, who by their desecrating everything considered sacred and eternal, have outraged the conscience of Israel. And it was the silent opposition which they found in the rank and file of our great public spirited men, that rendered them so bitter and so pugnacious.

I am deeply sorry that I have to point out all these things. Mr. Brandeis always maintains that he is open to conviction. But what I have read of his various manifestos and pronounciamentos, it seems to me that he should be open to instruction. No man can preface for us the future of Israel who is so devoid of all the knowledge of our past, even of the past of our New York community, with its various currents and jealousies and partisanships.

Epilogue: Reading Schechter’s Letter Over a Century Later

Reading Schechter’s 1915 letter against Brandeis over a century later, one is struck, after digesting the rawness of what was an uncensored unpublished draft, by how much has changed. Nationalism, discredited by so many after World War I, was further blamed for the unimaginable tragedies of World War II. And yet, the Jewish nationalist movement found its greatest success in the wake of that war and of the Shoah, with the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948. The nature of Jewish nationalism is more controversial today than ever before, as an ultranationalist governing coalition came to power in Israel after democratic elections in November 2022. As of this writing, Israel is seeing massive weekly demonstrations against the governing coalition’s proposals to limit the role of the courts as a balancing power against the majority of the democratically elected Knesset. The democratic nature of the state is being argued by both sides in what has become the most polarizing debate in Israeli history. The antigovernment protestors claim that only with the courts’ power of judicial review can minority rights and democracy in general be protected from the tyranny of the majority, while the prime minister responds that the majority will of the parliament is not antidemocratic but is the essence of democracy. Looking at Schechter’s letter in 1915 offers a fascinating perspective on today’s conflicts.

In 1915, Schechter opposed democratic progressivism, provocatively writing (although not publishing) the question: “Suppose I distinctly object to democracy?” We would not phrase such a challenge today with those words, as “democracy” is the signpost being brandished by both sides in the current debate in Israel. But we can understand that what Schechter is really opposing is what we call “populism,” understood as an ultranationalist majority that has found success across democratic nations since 2016 in electoral patterns that have not been seen since before World War II. The concept of judicial review, the question that has exploded on the streets of Israel in 2023, exists as a check against majority will, the unchecked populism that Schechter so feared in both religious contexts (the synod proposed by the Reform Movement) and political contexts (the congress politics of Brandeis’s Zionism). Constitutional law, Schechter would argue, exists as a protection against tyranny, whether from a monarch or a democratically elected body. This is no less the case in Israel, which lacks a constitution, than in the United States, whose constitution itself gives not a hint of the court’s power of judicial review. “Constitutional law,” wrote John Hart Ely, dean of Stanford Law School, in 1980, “appropriately exists for those situations where representative government cannot be trusted.”29 And so, in 2023, 108 years after the death of Solomon Schechter, the Rabbinical Assembly, his supposed heirs in the rabbinate, declared its opposition to the proposals to subject judicial review to repeal by a majority of the Knesset. “The RA proudly stands,” its statement of January 4, 2023, concludes, “for the rights of all and champions the integrity and independence of the High Court, which has historically safeguarded minority rights against the threat of tyranny by the majority.”30 Schechter’s concerns about majority-rule remain complex and contested.

Another area of supposed difference from Schechter’s perspective is on the role of secular and religious Zionism. Schechter’s cultural Zionism leaned toward religious Zionism, whereas most of his supposed heirs in today’s Conservative/Masorti movement see themselves, in general, as more aligned with the secular Zionist parties than with the religious parties. Israeli political history has seen the religious parties gain a beachhead of power that has made it difficult for non-Orthodox Judaism to exist in Israel. Because of the discrimination faced by non-Orthodox Judaism, Masorti Judaism generally allies itself with the secular Zionist parties, even as it stands for a Jewish religious traditionalism (masoret) that is championed by the religious parties. But the tensions faced by Masorti Judaism today are not so different in nature from what Schechter expresses. What worried him about Brandeis and the secularists was the demagoguery of unchecked populist nationalism that he saw exploding around the world with the outbreak of World War I. In his day, that was a secular nationalism. Today, the ultranationalists of the Zionist spectrum are found within the religious camp (understanding the Yisrael Beiteinu party as an exception which proves the rule). While the issues of the debate change, a closer look reveals that what really scared Schechter was a populist extremism unchecked by traditional Jewish sensibilities and wisdom. In that sense, we share Schechter’s concerns.

Historians throughout history have served in the consoling role of reminding the disoriented that the issues we face are rarely new and unprecedented. Our century is worlds away from what was before the Shoah and the establishment of the State of Israel. And yet, we can still call ourselves students of Solomon Schechter.

David J. Fine is rabbi of Temple Israel and Jewish Community Center in Ridgewood, New Jersey, and Adjunct Professor of Jewish Law at the Zacharias Frankel and Abraham Geiger Colleges in Potsdam, Germany. He was ordained at the Jewish Theological Seminary and earned his Ph.D. in modern European history at the City University of New York.

---