I’m a Jewish New Yorker — and I’m Waking Up to a New Political Reality
Hi friends,
Some of you reached out to check in after I missed last week’s parasha email—the first time I’ve skipped a week since launching this on Simchat Torah 2024.
The truth is, I felt deeply unmoored by Tuesday’s election results. I wrote and rewrote last week’s Substack more times than I ever had before, but I didn’t feel right sending out words of Torah while feeling so off balance.
Thank God, over the past few days—and especially through connecting with others who are committed to mobilizing for good—I feel like I’ve found my footing again.
Before tomorrow’s parasha idea, I wanted to share a bit about where I am right now.
The morning after Zohran Mamdani won the Democratic primary to become the party's nominee for mayor of America's largest city, I got a message from a friend in Tel Aviv.
Just days earlier, I had been checking on him as missiles fell around his neighborhood. Now, it was his turn to check on me.
The exchange was dizzying—the sense that, for many of us, what’s happening here in New York also feels existential. We’re used to thinking of Israel as the place where Jews feel under assault. But this week, it felt like the ground was shifting under our feet, too.
This wasn’t just a local election. It was a test: of what kind of political discourse is acceptable, of which coalitions get rewarded, and of whether those who ally with people chanting “intifada” or tearing down hostage posters can rise to power in the city with the largest Jewish population in the world.
Why So Many of Us Are Afraid
As a New Yorker, I believe Mamdani’s candidacy threatens the economy and public safety of the city I love. His economic platform is a fantasy—and, according to polls, out-of-step with the low-income, racially diverse people he claims to represent.
Entrusting a $120 billion budget to a 33-year-old with no real work experience would almost certainly damage NYC’s economy. My family lived through the devastation of Argentina’s socialist collapse—it’s not theoretical for me. It’s part of the reason we came to America.
And then there’s safety. My sense of security has eroded over my 15 years living in NYC. Mamdani’s coalition includes leaders from the defund-the-police movement and groups that have vilified the NYPD. The morning after the primary, I found myself calculating how much it would cost to avoid the subway if things go south.
But it’s as a Jewish New Yorker that my fear deepens into dread.
Of course, I don’t believe most New Yorkers hate Jews, or that Mamdani will introduce anti-Jewish legislation. But I do believe that while he smiles and speaks smoothly of “solidarity,” his coalition includes elements that hate me and what I stand for.
From my vantage point, here are some of the voices welcomed in that coalition:
The DSA activists who celebrated Oct 7th the very next day
Hostage-poster tearers
The “Zionists are not welcome here” campus agitators
“Globalize the intifada” protesters and pro-BDS activists
The Within Our Lifetime “resistance by any means necessary” agitators
The most prominent “As a Jew” personalities, whose careers revolve around demonizing Israel.
Let me make it concrete:
When I’ve gathered with other Jews who love Israel—say, in Washington Square Park—we’ve been able to count on the mayor’s office to protect our rights. When we’ve marched for our hostages, we’ve coordinated with the NYPD, knowing we’d be safe. When Jewish students have faced harassment, we’ve assumed our elected officials would care.
I don’t need my mayor to be a Zionist, visit Israel, or even like it. Honestly, I’d prefer American politicians talked less about Israel. But I do need a mayor who protects peaceful expression for everyone. Who affirms that we deserve safety, that hate speech against us is no different than hate speech against anyone else.
Losing that in any city would be chilling. But in New York? That should terrify us all. If NYC becomes the model for a new generation of DSA-aligned candidates, the stakes are national.
I might feel less alarmed if I didn’t see extreme elements, obsessed with demonizing Israel, gaining traction on both the far right and the far left. This is a frontline in the fight for the future of this country.
What We Need to Do Now
This week has been a wake-up call—not just for me, but for many Jewish New Yorkers who realize we’ve grown too comfortable, too complacent. The political ground beneath us is shakier than we thought.
If we want to protect what matters, we can’t afford to wait.
Our organizing starts now. Yes, there’s a critical election in November. But this is about more than one race. Like the soul-searching underway in Democratic circles, we need our own reckoning—deep, strategic, and open to new alliances and bold ideas.
The frameworks that brought us here won’t carry us forward. This moment demands a new Jewish political strategy for a new world.
Alongside the fear, there is also opportunity.
On campuses, anti-Zionist movements have sparked a deeper, more resilient response among many Jewish students. When tested, young Jews often rise to the occasion. Are we ready to support them? To invest in young Jews who are committed to Israel—and ready to lead?
And here’s another opening: Mamdani’s socialist policies are deeply unpopular outside elite, hyper-educated circles. A natural opposition is forming.
Can we build it—intelligently, broadly, strategically? When Mamdani’s socialist policies fail (and I believe they will), will we be ready with better ideas and better coalitions?
Torah and This Moment
I’m also wrestling with something personal: how to show up as a Torah teacher in the midst of political crisis.
On one hand, I believe with my full heart that Torah must speak to this moment. Last week’s parasha, Korach, for example, is a masterclass in the seduction of grievance politics and the dangers of charismatic, oversimplified rebellion.
But on the other hand, I’ve always felt that religious leadership demands something sacred: that the pulpit not become a partisan battlefield.
I’ve never said who I vote for. As a congregational leader, I’ve always been deeply gratified when people across the spectrum have told me they can’t locate me politically. To me, that’s a sign I’ve done something right—that I’ve protected the Torah from being cheapened by party politics.
Part of the reason I felt unmoored last week and didn’t send out a Substack idea on the parasha is that I didn’t trust myself to strike the right balance between reading the news in Torah and insisting that the timelessness of Torah always stand on its own.
Here’s how I hope to balance this: When I teach Torah in Committed or in shul, I won’t say “Korach is Mamdani,” or make partisan analogies. But I will bring in my fears, my grief, my commitments, and my questions—because I am a Jew living through this moment, too.
I will not confuse Torah with politics. But I will not let fear of “politics” prevent me from speaking Torah that matters.
And through it all, I’ll insist on a politics rooted in hope and human dignity—even when we’re fighting those who deny our own.
Where Do We Go From Here?
I don't have all the answers. None of us do. But I want to share the questions that are top of mind for me—questions I hope we can start exploring together, across institutions, friend groups, shuls, and movements.
Such as:
What are the core strategic failures of our current Jewish communal and political organizing that we must learn from?
How do we balance the need for pragmatic politics with the knowledge that accommodation can lead us down a slippery slope toward great evil?
How should pro-Israel Jews relate to the large numbers of progressive Jews who either supported Mamdani or are now legitimizing him?
What are the biggest opportunities in this painful and urgent moment?
How do we build spiritual resilience for the long haul?
What does Jewish American political life look like after October 7th—especially in a world where "intifada" doesn't bother many of our neighbors?
I hope you'll explore these questions with me. The fight ahead isn't just political—it's also communal, educational, and spiritual. If we want to build something real and lasting in response to this moment, we need to think through these questions and more.
I've been returning this week to a line from Michael Walzer's Exodus and Revolution. He writes:
“We still believe, or many of us do, what the Exodus first taught… about the meaning and possibility of politics: first, that wherever you live, it is probably Egypt; second, that there is a better place, a world more attractive, a promised land; and third, that the way to the land is through the wilderness. There is no way to get from here to there except by joining together and marching.”
This is one of those wilderness moments. The path ahead won’t be easy—but if we move together, with courage and clarity, I know we will reach somewhere better.
With love,
Mijal
I am glad to "hear" your voice again and appreciate your ability to write and lead during this fraught time. We must show up and make every effort to save NYC from collapse, not just for our own sakes. Shabbat Shalom.
Did you happen to see today's NYTimes Opinion by Lydia Polgreen?
In it she writes the following: "When asked repeatedly by journalists to disavow the phrase "globalize the intifada, Mamdani explained that while he himself did not use that language, he understood why others did, calling it in one interview an expression of 'a desperate desire for equality and equal rights in standing up for Palestinian human rights'."
His weak defense of this abhorrent language would be like saying "Lynching of black people is really not as bad as people think it is!
Polgreen goes on to say "This answer drew wide condemnation across the political spectrum, and it seemed for a time, that it might derail his campaign's momentum. But Mamdani stood his ground, and surged to victory." She goes on to say "Yes, Mamdani is listening. But he also has core beliefs on which he was unwilling to compromise."
Stood his ground? Core beliefs on which he was unwilling to compromise? I'll say! His response shows one thing and one thing only, that he is digging in his embedded antisemitism and the uninformed of all kinds, including our own are buying into his charisma and his fantasies wholesale. But what else is new? This is such an ancient story maligned anew for modern times.