What would it mean to live
in a city whose people were changing
each other’s despair into hope? –
You yourself must change it. –
What would it feel like to know
your country was changing? –
You yourself must change it. –
Though your life felt arduous
new and unmapped and strange
what would it mean to stand on the first
page of the end of despair?[1]
A rabbi’s job sometimes reflects a quotation that the fictional Irish immigrant bartender Mr. Dooley gave about newspapers: “to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.”[2] In this sermon I am going to start with the latter and then end with the former.
It’s not an easy time to be Jewish. During the past year, we saw a truck ramming at a large suburban synagogue in Michigan. We witnessed a gentleman accost worshippers on a Friday night at a Manhattan synagogue. We recoiled at the stabbing of a Jew with a screwdriver outside a synagogue on Tisha B’Av, one of the 70 percent of July New York City hate crimes targeted against Jews.[3] Closer to home, we saw a man enter a Carmichael synagogue on a Friday night and put a box with wires on the bimah during the silent Amidah. No synagogue is safe from this hatred, which is why we now have 2 guards, one of whom is armed, every week at Shabbat services and whenever children are present.
We know that this is not a new phenomenon, yet we might be surprised that antisemitism, while found more in the open now than it was for a long time, always existed in America. Pamela Nadell in her new book Antisemitism: An American Tradition, starts with Dutch politician Peter Stuyvesant wanting to kick out the first Jews to arrive in New Amsterdam, now known as New York, from Recife, Brazil in 1654. As Stuyvesant wrote, this “deceitful race, such hateful enemies and blasphemers of the name of Christ, be not allowed further to infect and trouble this new colony.”[4] Stuyvesant tried to expel the Jewish immigrants, but he was overruled. Ironically, Stuyvesant high school in Manhattan was 90 percent Jewish in the 1950s.
Of course, this didn’t begin with Stuyvesant. Jews were kicked out of England, France, Portugal and Spain, among others, all of which utilized prejudices from the Christian Bible to demonize and distort our people, who better convert to be saved from the fires of Hell.[5] The blood libel, stemming from Thomas of Monmouth in 1144, that Jews killed children and baked their blood into matzah,[6] found its way into Trent and Damascus, amongst other places, and led to organized pogroms against Jewish communities. This claim might sound ludicrous but was bolstered by Jewish apostates wanting to appease their new co-religionists.
Nadell continues that we cannot forget antisemitic tropes related to Jewish avarice and money, stemming from Jesus seeing Jewish money changers turning the Temple into “a den of thieves” and decisively knocking over their tables and kicking them out.[7] Judas the Jew would betray Jesus and get thirty pieces of silver for his evil deed.[8] It doesn’t take much to see the Shylock demanding his “pound of flesh” from Antonio for the money he lent.
This American tradition of antisemitism morphed over the years. It was certainly masked by the establishment clause in the first amendment and by Washington’s letter to the Touro Synagogue, part of which I read during our semiquincentennial celebration on July 4th Shabbat
Above all. We are blessed to live in a country that established freedom of religion in its first clause of the Bill of Rights. Yet we cannot forget that Alexander Hamilton, of musical and $10 bill fame, smeared an opponent as “Shylock the Jew,” and authors like Maria Edgeworth who in her book The Absentee portrayed Jews as “cruel and rapacious” with a villain Mr. Mordicai chasing debtors to their deathbeds.[9] Baron Rothschild was accused by Mississippi’s governor of having “the blood of Judas and of Shylock flow in his veins.”[10] I could go on with Professor Nadell’s examples, including General and Future President Ulysses S Grant expelling Jews from his military district of parts of Tennessee, Missouri and Kentucky during the Civil War or of the newspaper articles of “Jewish criminals who would not hesitate to break into houses and stores, pluck Gentiles’ pockets, or even ‘plunge a knife into the breast of his fellow.’”[11] Don’t get me started on Henry Ford, who became fodder for Adolf Hitler, may his name be obliterated. I could also give a whole sermon on the disgraceful comparisons between Israel and the Nazis. Israel is a country that is flawed like any other, and I will give a critique of an action taken by Israeli settlers in my remarks tomorrow. With that being said, it is most certainly not engaging in a genocide or final solution, as one might see on Tik Tok or through the algorithms developed by generative AI.
All is not lost, however. Dara Horn, who likes bold, provocative titles for her books, recently wrote a new one entitled The Final Solution to the Jewish Question: A Love Story for the Living. She recalls having been asked by many people after her previous book what to do about the increasing antisemitism and strives to give answers here, though she admits the title is sardonic.[12] The problem Dara sees is that American Jews have chosen to define Judaism as a religion rather than as a people. While not proposing any one solution, Horn advocates that we must reframe Jewish civilization as “a 3000-year-old anti-tyrannical movement.”[13] She wants us to teach Jewish living identity, rather than outsourcing Jewish education to passive trends or hiding behind universal safety nets. One of the dangers she sees with assimilation is trying to accommodate antisemitism in hopes we will be liked by others; instead, we should focus on fighting the lies that are behind antisemitism. Horn argues that the American Jewish community has “unconsciously accepted the assumption that we need to have no agency, but in reality, agency is the only reason we’re here today.”[14]
Above all, Horn asserts that we need to reject fatalism-the idea that antisemitism is predetermined and will always be there. Her solution is not a list of policy points but rather about the story we need to tell about how Judaism has survived by defying the dominant empires of the day through maintaining our faith, our culture, and our peoplehood. While she admits the battles are difficult, Horn believes we can fight against “the world’s oldest hatred” which is predicated on “the big lie” that “Jews destroy whatever you value the most.”[15]
Horn’s words remind me a statement Rabbi Shaul Robinson made at the Zionist Rabbis’ seminar. He asserted, “We must not internalise antisemitism and antizionism [16]״.When we hear the same lie time and time again we become victims of the illusory truth effect, that we believe the lie is real. As Dara Horn reminded me, many of the phrases heard by antizionists today, that “Zionism is racism, genocide, apartheid and colonialism” originated in the Soviet Union during the 1960s and 70s as part of its Cold War propaganda. She implores us to step away from the lachrymose version of Jewish history and an overemphasis on Holocaust education because that is a the least interesting thing about us; what is far more interesting is Jewish resilience through conscious choices against the dominant society. As Horn asserts, “we are actually the choosing people”[17] and those who choose to embrace Judaism are the ones who have survived.
Now that I’ve afflicted the comfortable it’s time to comfort the afflicted. How can we feel hope with the rise of antisemitism? In past years I spoke about maintaining Jewish pride and resilience, which remain important topics. This year, I want to focus on recognizing that we have friends in unexpected places, and we play a role in cultivating allies. In July, the British singer Boy George released a pro-Israel AI-generated reggae song “We Will Dance Again,” inspired by the Nova music festival. His song begins, “You say genocide, I say war” and continues “Does it get ugly? Yes, it does. When I know you want to kill every last one of us.” Boy George continues, “But if you’re ever confused, I stand with the truth. I don’t feel brave I just need to behave like a human.” Wonderful Jewish words, except Boy George is not Jewish. George Alan O’Dowd was raised Irish Catholic and has since embraced Nichiren Buddhism. Since creating the song, Boy George has faced dire consequences, having to step down from a West End role in (ironically) Jesus Christ Superstar, losing his record label manager and getting banned from the music platform Bandcamp. Yet he has cast his lot with the Jewish people.
We also cannot forget that when the antisemites strike, people in unexpected places sometimes stand up. Remember the first night of Hanukkah celebration last December at Bondi Beach. 15 people lost their lives, and it would have almost certainly been dozens more had it not been for a 42-year-old Muslim fruit seller and father of two named Ahmed al-Ahmed. Ahmed jumped on the back of one of the two gunmen, tackled him and wrestled away his long-barrelled gun. The price he paid was multiple arm wounds from the other assailant. His goal, as he asserted when interviewed, was to “stop the terrorism and stop the hate.”[18]
What are the simple steps that we can take in 5787 to cultivate more allies like Boy George and Ahmed al-Ahmed? There are genuine fears with the rise of antisemitism, which is often couched behind antizionism. Rather than focus on those detractors who offer hate, I choose to concentrate on those who can offer love. That is why it is so important to me to participate in the Sacramento Act Clergy Council as well as to meet with clergy leaders from the Interfaith Council of Greater Sacramento and give tours of our campus to those from other faith traditions. Boy George on his own will not save us, but maybe 1 million, 2 million or 10 million Boy Georges might. In the spirit of afflicting the comfortable, what is our responsibility in that direction, and what steps will we take in 5787 to join the Jewish Community Relations Council in building relationships with philosemites?
I ask each of us to commit to this cause. My classmate Philip Weintraub is giving out to his congregation this year this lapel pin (show pin) stating הנני. I choose to translate as “HERE I AM-ready, willing and able.” I am considering purchasing similar pins for Mosaic Law Congregation if there is sufficient interest. Regardless, may we proudly come forward and say הנני, building bridges with others during Jewish New Year 5787. Speaking of which, please stay and hear Rabbi Cantor Reuven Taff beautifully chant the הנני prayer.
[1] “Dreams Before Waking” by Adrienne Rich FEBRUARY 10, 2021 / JANFALLS
[2] Mr. Dooley is a fictional character created by journalist and humorist Finley Peter Dunne. This quotation comes from one of Dunne’s newspaper columns in 1902.
[3] Times of Israel Daily Briefing Aug 17, 2026
[4] Pamala S. Nadell Antisemitism: An American Tradition (New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 2025), pg. 12-13.
[5] Ibid, pg. 29.
[6] Ibid, 30.
[7] Ibid. 31
[8] Ibid
[9] Ibid, 522-53.
[10] Ibid, 56.
[11] Ibid, 63.
[12] Identity Crisis podcast with Yehuda Kurtzer September 1, 2026.
[13] Ask Haviv Anything podcast August 19, 2026.
[14] Dara Horn, Rabbinical Assembly Talk, August 25, 2026.
[15] Ibid
[16] Zionist Rabbis High Holiday Seminar August 17, 2026.
[17] Rabbinical Assembly Webinar with Dara Horn, 8/25/26
[18] Bondi Beach hero Ahmed al Ahmed: I just wanted to protect ‘innocent people’ | The Times of Israel
Meet Rabbi Herman 