The American Jewish community isn’t too much fun these days.
Walk into your average dinner party on the Upper West Side, and all you’ll hear is some version of “can you believe the latest antisemitic eruption at The New York Times / Columbia University / the Democrat Party?” Things are even grimmer institutionally: with billions of dollars at their disposal, our legacy organisations are far more likely to invest in yet another anti-antizionism conference than anything actually resembling joyous, affirmative, and generative Jewish life.
Thankfully, then, there’s a leader who still reminds us of what really matters in Yiddishkeit, a Reb who rises to the occasion and puts the emphasis back where it belongs. His name? Donald John Trump. Earlier this month, the 47th President of these United States issued a proclamation like none other in American history. After reminding us of the many contributions Jews have made to make America great again and again and again, the President had one small request of us all.
“In special honour of 250 glorious years of American independence and on the weekend of Rededicate 250 – a national jubilee of prayer, praise, and thanksgiving,” he wrote, “Jewish Americans are encouraged to observe a national Sabbath. From sundown on May 15 to nightfall on May 16, friends, families, and communities of all backgrounds may come together in gratitude for our great Nation. This day will recognise the sacred Jewish tradition of setting aside time for rest, reflection, and gratitude to the Almighty.” Once again, with feeling: The US President issued an official proclamation advising all Jews to keep Shabbos. That sound you’re hearing may very well be the pitter-patter of Moshiach.
How was the Commander in Chief’s edict received? Our battery of overpaid, sclerotic organisations reacted precisely as you’d expect: by doing absolutely nothing. But the president’s modest proposal did not go unheeded by scores of enthusiastic young Jews all over the country, who took it as an invitation to go all-out on Shabbat. An impromptu website – shabbat-250.com – popped up to help anyone interested sign up, learn a bit more about how to celebrate Shabbat, and either pledge to host a meal or find a local host nearby eager to have a few more Yidn at the Shabbos table. Within a matter of days, an astonishing 18,641 people signed up.
Over at Lakewood, New Jersey, a bastion of observant Judaism, posters went up calling on every able-bodied young Jew to join in the effort and help “non-frum” Jews experience the magic of Shabbat. And the White House got in on the action as well, holding its own spirited dinner that soon broke out into singing, dancing, and genuine joy. Did the proclamation have an impact? Surveying about a dozen large WhatsApp groups dedicated at least in part to answering the president’s call, the answer seems to be an overwhelming “yes.” Picture after picture – taken, presumably, just before sundown on Friday – featured gorgeously decorated tables and throngs of young Jews, beaming over the challah and the wine, many experiencing a proper Shabbat meal for the first time.
Like E., who asked for her name to be withheld lest her colleagues at the college where she teaches accuse her of partaking in a Trump-sanctioned event. A self-described “very, very secular Jew”, she had never been to a real Shabbat dinner before, she said, but chose to go when a friend of a friend, answering the president’s call, chose to throw a large dinner and issued invitations far and wide.
“Honestly? It was magical,” she said. “I only ever thought of Shabbat before as a day when you couldn’t do a bunch of things. But in the moment it felt different. Like it wasn’t about what we weren’t allowed to do, but about being together, and actually talking to each other, and taking a real break from non-stop bad news and social media and politics. It felt incredible.”
Testimonies like E.’s ought to give us much naches. They also ought to generate quite a bit of Heshbon Nefesh, or repentance for previous sins. Writing on Facebook in the aftermath of our national Shabbat, Rabbi Shaul Robinson, who presides over Manhattan’s largest Orthodox shul, Lincoln Square Synagogue, noted wisely that “if we spend more time talking about [New York mayor Zohran] Mamdani than we do Maimonides, then we are doing Judaism wrong”.
The president’s proclamation – and its warm reception – was a sorely needed reminder that, all too often, we are doing Judaism wrong in America, squandering vast resources on playing politics (badly) and obsessing over antisemitism and investing almost no time, effort, or funds in helping more Jews live robust, meaningful Jewish lives. We mobilise over anti-BDS campaigns or Holocaust education, but rarely over teaching our children the fundamentals of our tradition, the rich and timeless and sustaining treasure that is theirs by right.
Anyone wondering what an American Jewish community actually focused on Judaism might look like received a resounding answer this Shabbos. The men and women who rose to meet the moment weren’t highly paid federation executives, pulpit rabbis, or apparatchiks at legacy organisations: they were mothers and fathers, dentists and lawyers, many themselves newcomers to keeping Shabbat. And they reached out to Jews just like them and did what Jews have always done and should always do on Friday nights: get together, light the candles, and rejoice in a tradition that never, ever fails us.
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