Rabbi Avi Weiss

To @TuckerCarlson: This Shabbat, Jews worldwide will hear the Torah reading of “Remember Amalek.” Today, there is no call to destroy Amalek, as Amalek as a people no longer exists. Rather, the mandate is a calling for Jews to stand strong against our enemies always with an ethics of war, what the IDF calls “purity of arms.” It’s not Jews who are calling for the mass slaughter of innocents, as you effectively intimated in your Huckabee interview, it’s Hamas and Iran that do so — in their words and actions. You say you’re “confused” why you’re labelled by many to be an antisemite. But your twisted thinking - condemning the innocent while vindicating the guilty- cloaked in self righteous phony words that has duped your followers and given you access to high places, is why many like myself see you as one of the most dangerous antisemites living today.

On the 81st anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, the church at Birkenau continues to violate Shoah memory. jpost.com/opinion/articl…

The “Free Palestine” – campus and Hollywood – protesters who falsely accused Israel of “genocide” are silent, deafeningly silent, while thousands are being murdered in Iran. The hypocrisy is staggering. The double standard is glaring. That’s not human rights. And yes – it reeks of antisemitism.

Video clips of our demonstration together with @rabbichaim Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz, telling Mr. Mamdani we forever stand with Israel. From @nytimes: “I have deep respect for the position of New York City mayor, but my heart is broken as Mr. Mamdani becomes mayor,” said Rabbi Avi Weiss, 81. “Never in my life did I ever dream that the mayor of the City of New York would be an anti-Zionist, would be anti-Israel.” He added a note of caution to the new mayor: “Wherever you go, you’re going to hear a voice that stands proudly with the Jewish state, the Jewish democratic state of Israel.”

Standing with Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz @rabbichaim and dozens of friends, we raised our voices in spiritual activism. At the very moment Mayor Mamdani was publicly inaugurated, our message was unmistakably clear: as you seek to undermine Israel as a Jewish State, our voices of moral conscience, of Jewish conscience, will continue to be peacefully raised wherever you go. We stand with Israel today, tomorrow, and forever.

Reminder: Rabbis Chaim Steinmetz and Avi Weiss will be standing enwrapped with Israeli flags - across from City Hall in front of Pace University, on the Frankfort Street side - Thursday, January 1, 12:15pm, as Mamdani, our anti-Israel mayor takes office. Our message: We stand with Israel. Please join us.

Tomorrow, January 1st, as Zohran Mamdani is sworn in as mayor of New York City, Rabbi Avi Weiss and Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz will stand across the street holding Israeli flags. Mamdani has attacked Israel throughout his career. But a strong majority of New Yorkers, and the overwhelming majority of Jews, stand with Israel. And we will be there to let the new mayor, and all of New York know that no matter who is mayor right now, we will always be proud Jews who are proud of the State of Israel. (We will be meeting at the glass doors of Pace University, on the Frankfort Street side, at 12:15pm. We encourage you to join us.)

Returning to the United States, I am overwhelmed by layers of emotion – so many strata, so many levels. One, in particular, deserves special mention: the blessing of witnessing musmachim and musmachotfrom Chovevei Torah and Maharat living the rabbinate in soulful, uplifting ways. I have already spoken about Rabbanit Judith, Rabbanit Adina, Rabbanit Nomi, Chanchkie, Rabbi Mike and Rabbi Ben. Now my thoughts turn especially to Rabbi Noah Leavitt, who flew to Sydney from Cleveland. Noah serves as the remarkable spiritual leader of Cedar Sinai Congregation, a community he has helped grow to new and inspiring heights. He felt a particular pull to come to Australia, having served as Rabbi Ben’s assistant for seven months many years ago. Seeing former congregants joyously embrace him, watching him visit the sick and comfort the bereaved – and yes, even making sure to get in some early-morning surfing and swimming – brought me immense nachat. He is a gem. My partner throughout the trip was Rabbi @AmitaiFraiman , who completed Chovevei ten years ago and now leads the @z3_project . Amitai, who served in the IDF tank corps, stood at my side every moment – anticipating my needs and ensuring that whatever was required, he would be there to help. Together with Rabbi Mike, he carefully mapped out our schedule, remained in constant contact with people on the ground, and arranged our visits to the sick, the wounded, and the bereaved. Even more moving was watching Amitai offer his own words of support – in hospitals, in homes, and in communal spaces – bringing comfort and uplift to those in pain. Amitai, this experience has made us chaverim le’olam. I thank God for allowing me to witness our rabbis – from Maharat, from Chovevei, and from the Bayit – serve in their own voices and in their own ways, elevating the rabbinate to new and higher levels. It is their time. They have become my teachers – my rebbes. Eizeh bracha.

On a deeply personal level, this journey weighs heavily upon me as I reflect on my rabbinic spiritual activism. Throughout these decades, I have tried, in my small way, to be present – to contribute – whenever our people have been in need. And yet, after all these years, it is profoundly dispiriting that the attacks, the hatred, and the threats persist. Now I return to the United States, where a real antisemite, Mamdani, ascends to the mayoralty, and my concerns deepen further still. How I wish there were no need to express Jewish pride through struggle – through standing up to those who seek to harm us. How much I would prefer to devote myself wholly to proactive avodat hakodesh: to spend my days learning, writing, and teaching Torah, and – in my small way – to inspire all of us to make our people, and the world, more beautiful. Sadly, heavy clouds gather on the horizon, and we are compelled to stand up for Jewish dignity – with Hadar Yisrael, with love and with strength. But I know that it is no longer my time to lead the way. That task belongs to the next generation. I am confident they will rise to the moment. May God be with them, and guard their going out and their coming in, as the saga of our history – of us as a people and as a nation – continues onward.

Letters: A Traveling Rabbi’s Plea to Anthony Albanese wsj.com/opinion/a-trav… via @WSJopinion

@WSJ wsj.com/opinion/a-trav…

(4/4) We began a kumzitz, singing Shomer Yisrael – Guardian of Israel, protect Israel, protect all of humankind. May peace and goodness prevail. The conversation that followed was deep and searching. I spoke of what I have learned from my son Dov: that one has the right to be angry – even with God – and that expressing that anger is not disrespect, but love. Love means being able to say what one truly feels, even disappointment. It is okay to say to God: I love You – but please, You’ve got to do better. Yet when we cry out Eicha – how could this be? – we must also be open to hearing God’s response, who voices those same letters a bit differently: Ayekah – where are you? And together, with God’s help, in true partnership, we will respond to hate with love. As the rabbis teach: while hatred may defy reason, there is an even stronger force – love. Love will overwhelm and conquer hate. Each of us doing our small part to make this already beautiful world more beautiful still – a caring world, a loving world, a godly world. With arms around one another, we sang Shlomo’s Va-hareinu: “May we, Hashem our God, see the comfort of Jerusalem, the comfort of Sydney, the comfort of all victims of terror – and may the light come soon, one day soon, when peace, real peace, and real love will fill the world."

(3/4) Tuesday Evening: We ended the day with a gathering of song and Torah at the home of Jonathan and Daniela, organized by Rabbanit Adina Roth. As we entered their home, Jonathan took me up to the rooftop. I looked out over the Pacific Ocean, and he pointed to the distance – just across the way lay Bondi. What a contrast: Bondi, where the massacre took place, nestled within the breathtaking beauty of the Pacific waters, as the sun peeked through the clouds, setting for the night. The skyline of Sydney on one side, gentle hills in the distance on the other – together speaking of the partnership between human beings and God in building a world of beauty and nobility.

(2/4) Tuesday Afternoon: We traveled to the Surf Club for the celebration of life of Marika Pogany. Marika was a close friend of Adji, the mother-in-law of Rabbi Judith Levitan. Adji, nearly 80 herself, is remarkably spry and was one of the two speakers. Though Marika was murdered solely because she was Jewish, her funeral was not held in a Jewish setting. Still, the grief – the pain, the suffering – was overwhelming, as she joins the far too many murdered al kiddush Hashem. From there, we went on to yet another hospital to visit Ryan Zimen, the young security volunteer who was unconscious for days and still suffers from a serious wound in his arm. Thank God, he appears well on the road to recovery. Entering his room, seeing his mother, girlfriend, and friends, it seems surreal, so similar to visiting wounded Israeli soldiers during the war at Soroka Hospital in Be’er Sheva and Sheba Hospital in Tel Aviv. Ryan in his own way, paralleled the heroism of an IDF solider – prepared to give his life so Jews could live. I turned to Ryan and said, katonti – I am humbled. In protecting those present, he was also protecting all of us. We then travelled to the Kleytman shiva and met Larisa, the wife of Alex Kleytman – yet another Soviet Jew among the murdered. Larisa sat in profound grief, surrounded by her children: Sabina and Tzvi. Sabina, a psychology PhD who shared that she has studied and written about resilience, arguing that short of being killed, every person has the capacity to reach higher and higher. Even in death, I shared, even in the killing of her father, he, too, was reaching higher and higher, leaving behind a legacy of sanctifying God’s name and inspiring future generations to identify more deeply with what he died for. Tzvi now lives in Kfar Chabad with his nine children. He spoke knowledgeably about the Soviet Jewry movement and mentioned Natan Sharansky. As we were leaving, I called Natan. In his generous way, he spoke at length with Tzvi, soon joined by Sabina and Larisa, offering words of comfort for many minutes. Earlier, I had been in touch with our congressman, the extraordinary Ritchie Torres, and asked him to write a letter to Ahmed al-Ahmed, the Muslim hero who confronted one of the shooters and was himself injured. With the letter in hand, we traveled to St. George’s Hospital, where Ahmed is recovering. The hour was late, and we were unable to gain entry. God willing, we will try again tomorrow. We feel compelled to say just two simple words: Thank you. As Ahmed himself has said – even to those in his own community who criticized him – “When I saw what was happening, I didn’t feel Muslim. I felt like a human being, with other human beings.”

(5/5) Monday Evening: We go to the home of George and Michal. Michal is the aunt of my daughter-in-law Shayndi; George is a chazzan in a progressive community. They describe being involved day and night in communal care. With us is Nomi Kaltman, another Maharat rabbanit, mother of five, lawyer by day and CEO of Jofa Australia by night. We speak about holding governments accountable. She shares how she has worked tirelessly with the press in Australia, Israel, and beyond to convey the horror of what occurred. Someone at the table raises discomfort with the booing the night before when the Prime Minister was mentioned. What do I think? I say: I was proud. Proud that the crowd expressed its truth. I joined in the booing. It is important that the Prime Minister hear that under his watch this occurred – that responsibility must mean not only words, but action; laws that ensure antisemitism is never again allowed to rear its ugly head in Australia. @NomiKal

(4/5) Monday Afternoon: We visit a life center offering pastoral and psychological counseling to those seeking help. Police are also present, listening to testimonies from those who witnessed the events and wish to share what they saw. We then travel to the shiva of Rav Yaakov Levitan, a close confidant and partner of Rabbi Eli. Every visionary needs someone who attends to the details, who advises and refines. Rav Eli was blessed with Rav Yaakov in this role. While Rav Eli greeted the masses, none of that which was set up at Bondi could have happened without Rav Yaakov. Sitting with his sister, his parents – his mother Miriam and father Tzvi – I am broken. We talk. Mostly, I try to listen. I offer the only blessing that feels possible: that they take care of themselves. The loss of a son and brother can never be repaired – only, at best, managed. They share beautiful stories of Rav Yaakov. We embrace as we leave. We meet Rabbi Groner. I share that I met his father thirty years earlier in Melbourne. I fall on his shoulder as I tell him that my grandfather, Rav Dovid, my father’s father, was the ba’al tefillah at a small shtiebel called Re’im Ahuvim in Brownsville in the late 1940s. Rabbi Groner tells me he knows the shul well – his family davened there too. He asks whether I have any recordings of Rav Dovid’s nusach. We also meet Rabbi Gutnick, head of the Chabad Beit Din. He recalls visiting Riverdale years ago and coming to the Bayit, curious about the history of our mechitzah. I share my conversations with Rabbi Soloveitchik and his guidance. Rabbi Gutnick, aware of my involvement with Maharat, speaks eloquently about the importance of women learning Torah at the highest level. He is full of praise for Rabbanit Judith and shares how she insisted, in her role as a military chaplain, on wearing skirts rather than pants as part of her uniform. Rabbi Gutnick is not only a scholar – he is warm, kind, and, to my ear, deeply respectful, even across differences.

(3/5) Monday Morning; We attend the funeral of Dan Elkayam, a French Jew who became a soccer player. Throughout the funeral, I think of our grandchildren, Moshe and Zalman – children of our Dov and Shayndi – who love soccer and see players as their heroes. The presiding rabbi tells the story of Dan, who was not only a great player but a true mensch. Once, after being tripped by an opponent – an incident that often escalates into confrontation – Dan rose from the ground and reached out to hug the one who had tripped him. Rabbi Dadon, whose 14 year old daughter Chaya was injured in the attack, invited me to recite a teaching from Pirkei Avot: It is not upon us to finish the work, but neither are we free to desist from it. I add that Dan started his work through the goodness he brought to others through soccer, and now it is up to us to continue it – to live his legacy of pure goodness and love of life. We visit the shiva of Rabbi Eli Schlanger, described by many as the ultimate giver. Upon entering, I meet his brother Baruch, who immediately tells me that we are connected. Unbeknownst to me, he spent many years with his family in Manhattan Beach and knew my wife Toby’s sister Sue, her husband Yerucham, and their children well. He reels off their names – Shlomo, Yosef, Yitzi... Right there in the shiva house I call Sue – and they speak. We share with Eli’s sister that one of the closest relationships in Torah is between brother and sister. Perhaps for that reason, Abraham says to Sarah upon entering Egypt, “Imri na achoti at” – say you are my sister – because the bond between siblings can never be severed. Most searing is spending time with Rav Eli’s eldest. There are so many layers to this tragedy: the horror of how low human beings can sink, and the devastation of families – wives becoming widows, children becoming orphans. From there, we spend time with Chana, married to a Chabad rabbi and, God willing, finishing Maharat this year. Her journey to semikha is compelling. She shares how she and her husband have been consumed, day and night, with caring for their community in Melbourne – just an hour and a half flight from Sydney. Though deeply Chabad, she explains how essential advanced Torah learning was to her path.

(2/5) Sunday Evening: We join many thousands – perhaps tens of thousands – for the eighth candle lighting of Hanukkah at Bondi. Chabad has arranged an impressive program, with speakers and politicians. All are applauded except Prime Minister Albanese, who is booed. I join in the booing. Some around me say it feels inappropriate to be disrespectful, but I feel otherwise. Rallies are not only about those who speak; they are also about how the crowd reacts. And as long as the crowd is peaceful, it is important for politicians to hear what people are feeling. What touched me most was the melody of Menachem, the Chazzan at the Great Synagogue – as he intoned Ani Ma’amin, Ani Ma’amin b’emunah shleimah. In spite of everything, I still believe. The emotional peak came when the crowd, led by a singer on stage, sang what is considered the unofficial Australian anthem, Waltzing Matilda. People held up their lit phones, waving them side to side. Darkness had fallen. It felt as if the earth itself was crying, and in the heat of the evening, tears flowed freely. It was an otherworldly moment.