#BringThemHomeNow

Sep 9, 2025

The Power of Intention | Ki Tavo | #Day704 #Broadcast1385 #KiTavo #BringThemHomeNow #untilthelasthostage


The Power of Intention | Ki Tavo

#Day704 #Broadcast1385 #KiTavo #BringThemHomeNow #untilthelasthostage 

with gratitude to Lyn Light Geller for her teaching on this Parashah!

Sep 7, 2025

From JWI: September 9 is Firearm Suicide Prevention Day


Join us September 9th in recognizing this critically important day

On September 9, communities across the country will recognize Firearm Suicide Prevention Day. Firearm suicide accounts for 60% of all gun deaths in the United States, or more than 27,000 lives a year. While not all suicides are preventable, many are. But too often, stigma keeps people from having potentially life-saving conversations about both suicide in general and firearm suicide.

 

At JWI, we are committed to raising awareness, sharing life-saving information, and equipping our community with tools to spark meaningful conversations. We invite you to join us in honoring this day by:

 

Learning more: Watch the Jewish Gun Violence Prevention Roundtable’s webinar Breaking the Silence: Addressing Suicide as the Leading Cause of Gun Deaths and explore the accompanying toolkit.

Sharing resources: If someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, tell them about the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline, a free and confidential service for people in crisis. Learn more about prevention and supporting a friend experiencing suicidal thoughts in the Breaking the Silence toolkit.

Safely storing firearms: If you possess firearms, ensure they are stored unloaded in a locked gun safe to which only you have access. Learn more about safe firearm storage here.

Speaking out: Share these posts on social media to spread the word and help break the silence surrounding firearm suicide. 

 

Every action matters. By learning, sharing, and advocating together, we can save lives.

 

Best,


Rachel Graber
Vice President of Government Relations and Advocacy
Jewish Women’s International


Jewish Women International (JWI) is the leading Jewish organization championing women and girls by ending gender-based violence, expanding access to long-term economic security, and advancing women's leadership.

 

We envision a world, free of violence and inequity, where all women and girls thrive.

Sep 5, 2025

Introduction to "Anti-Zionists, Unwitting Zionists (When Obsession Becomes Proof of Attachment)"


Anti-Zionists, Unwitting Zionists
(When Obsession Becomes Proof of Attachment)

Rabbi Menachem Creditor






INTRODUCTION

Against and Attached


The fiercest hatreds often mask a form of love. Hatred is not the opposite of attachment; it is its distortion. When a person cannot stop looking at, talking about, and defining themselves against an object, a people, or an idea, they reveal a bond they would rather deny. This book argues that a great deal of contemporary anti-Zionism belongs to that category. By building an entire moral universe around opposition to Israel, many anti-Zionists unwittingly affirm the centrality of Jewish self-determination in their own lives. Their obsession becomes proof of attachment.

To say this is not to score a glib psychological point. It is to invite a more honest conversation. Zionism is not a monolith, and Jews are not of one mind. We argue - heaven knows we argue! - and that is a feature, not a bug, of our tradition. I affirm the Jewish value of diversity, of principled pluralism. A Zionism worthy of our ancestors and our children must make room for dissent, dispute, and change. Zionism at its best is anti-fundamentalist: an evolving project of peoplehood that thrives on moral self-critique, the courage to revise, and the humility to listen.

I write as a rabbi who believes Zionism is not merely a political program but a moral obligation. The Jewish people’s right to self-determination in our ancestral homeland is not a privilege begged from history; it is the restoration of dignity after history’s theft. But that restoration is never only for us. From Torah’s command - tzedek, tzedek tirdof, justice pursued justly - to Israel’s founding vision of equality and freedom, the Jewish return to sovereignty is inseparable from the responsibility to build a society that reflects the image of God in every human being.

How, then, do we understand those who oppose this project with near-religious intensity? Some oppose particular policies; these are our partners in debate. Critique is a blessing in any democracy, and Israel, like all states, must be answerable to moral judgment. But something else has emerged in recent years: a fixation that organizes identity around the negation of the Jewish collective. When “Israel” becomes the single lens through which the world is read, when the Jewish state is singled out as the world’s only inadmissible “mistake,” when the language of human rights expands everywhere except to include the Jewish people’s right to a home - then we have crossed from critique into a consuming counternarrative.

That counternarrative, I submit, cannot let Israel go because, deep down, it cannot imagine a world without us. If Israel is the axis of your righteousness, if the Jew among the nations must always be on your mind, then the Jew among the nations is central to your moral self. You are in relationship - albeit a broken one - with Zion. The more breathless the denunciation, the more it testifies to Israel’s gravitational pull.

This is not a taunt; it is an invitation. If you care this much, then admit that you care - and let us turn that distorted attachment into a shared responsibility for life, dignity, and justice.

For our part, we Zionists must refuse the seduction of certainty. Power can numb empathy; fear can shrink moral horizons. Jewish sovereignty requires the grown-up work of holding two commitments at once: defending the lives of our people and honoring the full humanity of our neighbors. We must be brave enough to say when we fail, and steadfast enough to keep trying. Our tradition demands nothing less.

“Who is mighty?” asks Ben Zoma. “One who masters their impulse.” Strength, in Jewish terms, is disciplined power, ethically constrained.

Pluralism is thus not a public-relations tactic; it is theologically Jewish and politically Zionist. We argue for the sake of Heaven, recognizing that truth is found in the friction of principled disagreement. The doubling of tzedek in the biblical verse teaches that ends and means are inseparable. We cannot reach a just future through unjust paths. The boats on the narrow river of our sources pass in turn so that all may pass; the same wisdom must govern a crowded land and an intensely anxious century. Compromise is not cowardice when it serves life.

This book will name the obsessive forms of anti-Zionism for what they are, not to shame their adherents but to unmask the relationship they deny. And it will argue for a confident, self-critical Zionism that welcomes disagreement and expects accountability - from others and from ourselves.

If you have been told that Zionism demands silence, know that our sages canonized argument. If you have been told that loving Israel means hating someone else, know that our covenant commands love of the stranger. If you have been told that Jewish self-determination is a betrayal of universal justice, know that our return to sovereignty is precisely how we bring our particular gifts to the universal human table.

To my fellow Jews who are weary, who feel abandoned by allies who seem to champion every people’s dignity but recoil at ours: do not surrender your moral voice. Our story is neither simple nor spotless, but it is righteous in its essence.

To critics who care enough to read this far: I am listening. Come argue with me. Bring your passion, and I will bring mine. Bring your fears, and I will bring my people’s memory of statelessness and massacre alongside our stubborn, generative hope. Let us test one another not with slogans but with lives - Israeli and Palestinian, Jewish and not - in view.

And to the uncompromising anti-Zionist whose days and nights circle Israel like a moth around a lamp: your heat tells the truth your words conceal. You are already in relation to the reality you deny. What if that energy were recast as responsibility? What if the passion that fuels negation were converted into the hard, sacred labor of building a future where two peoples live with dignity? Obsession can destroy; it can also be transformed.

Anti-Zionists, Unwitting Zionists” is a provocation, yes - but also a prayer. May our attachments be healed. May our love be less distorted and more courageous. May we learn again that justice is a path we walk together, and that argument - honest, plural, rigorous - is a form of love. May our people’s return to history be a blessing to all who share the land and all who share this fragile world.

Am Yisrael Chai.

Rabbi Menachem Creditor
Elul 5785
September 2025


_____________________________________



Anti-Zionists, Unwitting Zionists
(When Obsession Becomes Proof of Attachment)

Rabbi Menachem Creditor


 



Aug 29, 2025

Toward a Loving World (Shoftim) - #Day693 #Broadcast1378


Toward a Loving World (Shoftim)

#Day693 #Broadcast1378 #Shoftim #BringThemHomeNow #UntilTheLastHostage

inspired by the teachings of Rabbi Tali Adler

Aug 28, 2025

Suicide Prevention Through a Torah Lens


Suicide Prevention Through a Torah Lens


#Day692 #Broadcast1377 #Shoftim #BringThemHomeNow #untilthelasthostage

with deep gratitude to Rabba Daphne Lazar Price for this urgently needed wisdom.

Aug 20, 2025

Torah in memory of Hersh Goldberg-Polin z"l, Ori Danino z"l, Carmel Gat z"l, Alexander Lubanov z"l, Almog Sarsui z"l, and Eden Yerushalmi z"l. - #Day684 #Broadcast1371 #Reeh #BringThemHomeNow #UntilTheLastHostage

Torah in memory of Hersh Goldberg-Polin z"l, Ori Danino z"l, Carmel Gat z"l, Alexander Lubanov z"l, Almog Sarsui z"l, and Eden Yerushalmi z"l. - #Day684 #Broadcast1371 #Reeh #BringThemHomeNow #UntilTheLastHostage

Aug 14, 2025

Engraved for Freedom (Ekev)

Engraved for Freedom (Ekev)

Rabbi Menachem Creditor


Today is day 678 since October 7. We have been counting - one day at a time - since that horrific morning. We have been responding, tirelessly, to the threats that have not relented. Faithfulness to that daily discipline matters: faithful to memory, faithful to our people, and faithful to who we are on the inside.


Dr. Edith Eger, psychologist, author, and Auschwitz survivor, once said that she wakes up each morning and asks herself: “Do you want to be soft and warm or cold and stiff?” It isn’t easy—how could it be?—but it is our calling. Even when reactivity feels warranted, tradition invites us to keep our inner core supple and resilient. That inner warmth isn’t weakness; it’s part of the treasured legacy that empowers us to defend our people without surrendering our souls.


My dear mentor and friend, Yossi Klein Halevi, wrote recently about what he termed “the end of the post-Holocaust era,” the shattering realization that what we thought was unimaginable could again be spoken aloud and acted upon (Times of Israel, October 7, 2024). We see it in the public square, even in cultural spaces that ought to celebrate human courage—stories of family rescue and moral clarity sometimes meet resistance. Too often, only a passionate, principled response nudges the world back toward decency. It’s complicated. And it’s why our inner work must be as strong as our outer work.


Just as the entire book of Deuteronomy is not bare history but rather a heart telling its story, Ekev is Moshe remembering. He worries about us (for good reason), warns us not to harden into arrogance, and pleads that we “circumcise the foreskin of our heart” (Deut. 10:16) - to remain tender, responsive, human.


Amid his memories, one quiet verse shimmers: “I turned and came down from the mountain… and I placed the tablets in the ark that I had made; there they are, as Adonai commanded me” (Deut. 10:5). Our sages teach that the whole tablets and the shattered ones both rested in the Ark (Menachot 99a). Both. Our wholeness and our brokenness travel together at the center of the sacred.


Another teaching (Shemot Rabbah 41:7) lingers on the word “charut  - engraved” on the tablets and reads it as “cherut - freedom.” When Torah becomes truly ours, it is engraved not only on stone but on the human heart. After the Temples fell, the Holy of Holies moved inward; the Ark’s address is now our own interior life (Zohar). Which means the tablets are still here - right here - summoning us to live the covenant in two directions at once: between us and God, and between one human being and another.


Ekev also means “heel,” which Rashi sees as a cue to remind us to never trample what we consider lighter mitzvot under our heels. In a season of great alarms, Ekev insists that freedom is engraved in the small daily choices: how we speak, whom we notice, what we refuse to excuse, when we soften rather than harden. 


If the tablets are still in the heart, then so is the reminder of what it means to be human. The rabbis said long ago: “In a place where there are no human beings, strive to be human. (Pirkei Avot 2:5)” Today, when interpersonal cruelty and idolatry (of power, tribe, and self) abound, we are called to activate what is already engraved within us until everyone has what they need.


All of this remains true. 


All of this defines the extent of our freedom.


Olam Chesed Yibaneh at the Parliament of the World’s Religions | August 14, 2023

Aug 13, 2025

An Open Letter to the Leadership of the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF)

An Open Letter to the Leadership of the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF)
Rabbi Menachem Creditor

Your decision to cancel the screening of a documentary on the Hamas atrocities of October 7, 2023, citing “copyright concerns” because the filmmakers did not obtain permission from the terrorists themselves whose GoPro footage documented the massacres, is a moral collapse.

Let’s be perfectly clear: Hamas filmed its own war crimes. These were not staged “productions” deserving of artistic royalties. They were gleeful, self-incriminating records of the slaughter of innocent human beings — Israeli men, women, children, elderly, even infants — butchered, burned, abducted. That footage is not “property” in the moral sense; it is evidence. Evidence of war crimes was verified by Human Rights Watch on October 18, 2023 (link here: https://www.hrw.org/news/2023/10/18/israel/palestine-videos-hamas-led-attacks-verified).

By framing your decision as a matter of intellectual property law, you have crossed from neutrality into complicity. You have effectively placed the “ownership rights” of murderers above the world’s right — the world’s obligation — to bear witness to truth.

You are the Toronto International Film Festival. You are meant to be a stage for the human story, especially when it is searing, urgent, and inconvenient. What is film for, if not to confront reality and demand moral reckoning? What have you become if the killers’ claims to “copyright” can silence the victims’ testimonies?

October 7 survivors have already shared their experiences through the USC Shoah Foundation’s October 7 Testimonies (https://sfi.usc.edu/october7testimonies). These are not simply “stories” — they are cries for justice, preserved so no one can say “we didn’t know.” Yet your decision tells survivors their pain is less important than the imagined “rights” of those who tried to erase them.

TIFF, the world is watching. This is not about copyright. This is about courage. Do you stand for art as a force for truth and human dignity — or for bureaucracy as a shield for cowardice?

You have a chance to reverse this decision. You have a chance to be remembered for defending the moral conscience of art, not for bowing to the perpetrators of mass slaughter.

Restore the screening. Stand with survivors. Show the truth.

Ekev: What to do with Anger - #Day677 #Broadcast1366 #Ekev #BringThemHomeNow #UntilTheLastHostage

Aug 8, 2025

A Double Measure of Comfort (Shabbat Nachamu)

A Double Measure of Comfort

(Shabbat Nachamu)

Rabbi Menachem Creditor

Shabbat Nachamu is the Shabbat after Tisha B’Av, the day we mourn collective loss. It’s the Shabbat where we begin to breathe again, even if that breath still catches in the throat. It’s the Shabbat of Comfort. But not just comfort. Double comfort. "Nachamu, nachamu ami—Comfort, comfort My people. (Is. 40:10)”

Why twice?

When a person’s name is called twice in succession in the Torah—Abraham, Abraham (Gen. 22:11)… Moses, Moses (ex. 3:4)—it’s never just about summoning. It’s about connection, intimacy, urgency, reassurance. And here, too, the prophet Isaiah doesn’t say “comfort” once. He says it twice. Perhaps once is not enough. Maybe we need comfort for the past—and comfort for the present.

We are still counting the days since October 7th. Day 672. We are still seeking clarity in chaos, still yearning for stability in an unstable world. We have been asked to bear so much, to hold so much. And somehow, we do.

And so, on this Shabbat, we turn to the Torah portion, Va’etchanan. Moses begs to enter the Land and is denied. He is disappointed. He is human. And yet, he doesn’t fall apart. Instead, he blesses the people. He strengthens Joshua. He prioritizes continuity over ego. He teaches us that even with a broken heart, we can lead forward. We must.

And then, after the Torah reading this Shabbat, we will hear in the Haftarah Isaiah speaking comfort to a people devastated, disoriented, trying to remember who they are. And it says—you’ve already paid double for your suffering (Is. 40:2). You’ve been through enough. It is time for comfort.

Friends, maybe that's why Nachamu is doubled. One for the sorrow that has already come. And one for the sorrow we still carry as we move forward. One for those who have been taken. And one for those who remain.

We are called this week to pause. That’s not easy. To be still in a world of such noise. To breathe amid trauma. But maybe that’s the commandment of this Shabbat: Let the comfort in.

And then… let it move outward.

I think of all the people who will read this Haftarah tomorrow. I think of the whole aching, beautiful, fractured world, calling out in and for comfort. Nachamu. Nachamu.

Nachamu. Comfort.
Nachamu. Again.

Because once just isn’t enough.

Nachamu, Nachamu - #Day672 #Broadcast1363#VaEtchanan #BringThemHomeNow #UntilTheLastHostage

Jul 29, 2025

A Prayer for New York City After a Mass Shooting

A Prayer for New York City After a Mass Shooting

Rabbi Menachem Creditor


Eil Maleh Rachamim,

God of Compassion,

God of broken hearts,

God of weary souls,

 

We gather in grief, in rage, in trembling hope.

Last night, five precious lives were taken in an act of senseless violence

—each of them was a world complete.

A guardian of peace among them, slain in service.

We name their memories sacred.

 

We cry out together, across all faiths, refusing numbness.

Let our tears become prayers,

our prayers become action,

our action become healing.

Shelter the grieving.

Strengthen the healers.

Protect our protectors.

Be with those whose families are shattered.

Disrupt the violence in us and around us.

 

In the city that never sleeps, now shaken awake by sorrow,

We dare to say: this is not the end.

Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy.

 

We ask that You comfort our city and each of us now, Holy One.

Amen.


Jun 5, 2025

 🟦✡️🏳️‍🌈🇮🇱

The Place for Jews
in #PRIDE
Rabbi Menachem Creditor

Not a rhetorical question. A broken-hearted, passionate cry.

Jewish people have always been part of the LGBTQ+ movement.
We’ve marched. Led. Fought. Died. Loved.
Think Harvey Milk. Edie Windsor. Idit Klein. So many more.
Proud Jews. Proud Queer. Proud Allies.

But this year, something’s broken.
Zionism—our commitment to our ancestral home—is being twisted.
We’re told:
“You can come—but not as Jews.”
“Your pride is okay, but your people are not.”

Let’s get real:
📍Zionism is not colonialism.
🇮🇱 Israel is not a metaphor.
🕊️ Jewish people are not occupiers of our own story.

Our return to our land is the only successful anti-colonial project in human history.
That doesn’t make us perfect. It makes us responsible.
For justice. For dignity. For peace.

To exile Jews from PRIDE is to betray the very meaning of PRIDE.

PRIDE means visibility.
PRIDE means no shame.
PRIDE means love—for everyone.

If your liberation requires our erasure, it’s not liberation.

✡️🏳️‍🌈 We’re still here. We’re still loud. We’re still proud. We’re not leaving.

#AmYisraelChai #JewishAndProud #Pride2025 #QueerJewishPride #LoveIsLove #ZionismIsJustice #NoPrideInErasure


Naso: We Can Do Better - #Day608 #Broadcast1317 #Naso #BringThemHomeNow #UntilTheLastHostage #AmYisraelChai💙

Jun 1, 2025

A Shavuot Prayer for the Release of the 58 Hostages

A Shavuot Prayer for the Release of the 58 Hostages

Rabbi Menachem Creditor

June 1, 2025

 


 

God of Revelation, God of Silence,

 

On this Shavuot, as we stand again at Sinai, trembling as did our ancestors beneath the mountain, we cry out to You from beneath another shadow—604 unendurable days of captivity for 58 souls held by Hamas since October 7, 2023. We bring them with us to Sinai. We place their names at the foot of that holy mountain, where thunder roared, and a shofar blast pierced the heavens (Ex. 19:16-17).

 

We remember the fear and trembling of long ago, how the mountain loomed like a threat (Shabbat 88a). And we remember that they said, na’aseh v’nishma—we will do and we will understand (Ex. 24:7). We, too, even and especially when You are hidden and the world trembles with injustice, commit to action.

 

As the earth once held its breath, fearing it might return to chaos if dignity were not upheld, we now hold ours, aching for the moment when our family return home. God, release Your thunder not as a threat, but as a cry for justice. Let the forced silence of captivity be shattered by the sounds of reunion, of prayers answered, of mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and daughters and sons weeping with joy.

 

Reveal Yourself, Holy One, not through fire and cloud alone, but through human courage, compassion, and unrelenting pursuit of justice. Let this be the day the mountain lifts—not in fear, but in freedom.

 

May the Torah we cocreate with You this day carry with it the power to heal, to liberate, to bring every captive home.

 

Amen.

 


May 28, 2025

Counting Every Soul: A Response to the Response

Counting Every Soul: A Response to the Response

Rabbi Menachem Creditor | May 28, 2025

After publishing my essay, “Counting Every Soul: We Are Not Giving Up,” I received a wave of engagement—some thoughtful, some painful. First among the critiques was the question: Do Palestinians have souls? The question, in its very framing, wounded me. My essay mourned the 58 hostages still held by Hamas, named and unnamed, alive and murdered. It sought to hold space for Jewish pain on the 600th day since October 7th. That an expression of grief for my people was met with such a question left me breathless. Is our pain so unimaginable that to voice it must be offset by a disclaimer? I was not denying Palestinian suffering—I was counting ours.

One responder pointed to the phrase “every soul” in my title and asked if I meant every soul. Another accused me of justifying genocide by prioritizing “tribal pain.” Let me be clear: I did not say only Jewish souls count. My piece was not a geopolitical treatise—it was a cry from within the anguish of my community. To suggest that holding space for that grief is immoral, or even racist, misunderstands both the piece and the human need to feel seen in our own sorrow.

I do use the word “tribe,” and I use it with love. Tribe, to me, is not primitive—it is sacred. It is family, identity, and belonging. One can love one’s tribe and still advocate for justice and dignity for others. To feel deeply for one’s people is not to dehumanize others. I reject the false binary that caring for my own must come at the expense of others. I ask only that I be granted the same fullness of humanity I extend to others—complex, grieving, and striving to be just.

Some readers asked for my writing that centers non-Jewish pain. I welcome that inquiry and encourage those interested to explore my writing. Others questioned whether any criticism of Israel, including the use of the term “genocide,” should be taken personally. I can only say: when accusations invoke language that negates the legitimacy of my family’s very being, I feel erased. So would anyone.

This follow-up is not a defense. It is a continuation of my counting, soul by soul—including those who disagree with me, including those who question me harshly. The counting must go on. And we are not giving up.

[DAY 600] We Must Fight for Our Family #Day600 #Broadcast1313 #Bemidbar #BringThemHomeNow #UntilTheLastHostage #AmYisraelChai💙


[DAY 600] We Must Fight for Our Family #Day600 #Broadcast1313 #Bemidbar #BringThemHomeNow #UntilTheLastHostage #AmYisraelChai💙 image: Rabbi Evan Schultz

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