J Street High Holiday Reflections 5782

Rabbi Brad Artson

Repeat after me: Israel and the Israelis aren’t going away. Palestine and the Palestinians aren’t going away. There is no military solution. The only way forward is for us to work together.

The future flows from these four bedrock insights. Our job is to embrace this reality, embolden others to link their aspirations to this reality, to block their fears from blinding them, both to these four insights’ inevitability but also to their desirability. After all, don’t we want an Israel that is a bulwark for Jewish vitality, security, and thriving? And don’t we also want an Israel that is a light to the nations, not only those distant, but first to its closest neighbors?

The only way to be effectively pro-Israel today is to be pro-Palestinian. And only those who find their way to support these two dreams as compatible and reinforcing will align with the work of a sustainable peace.

The only way to be effectively pro-Israel today is to be pro-Palestinian.

It is my prayer that this year sees a growing number of Israelis plant their Zionism in hope, generosity of spirit, and courage. Not constricted and desiccated by inherited fear, not captive to the worst excesses of its most militant enemies, but rather a Zionism always in search of allies, one that fosters common interest, one excited to create, with Palestinians, a regional hub of vitality, creativity, and expansiveness. Two states for two people, sharing a love of a common land.

In this work, the pro-Israel, pro-Palestinian, pro-peace movement in the United States must advance a threefold agenda: asserting the right of the Jewish people to national self-determination in our ancestral homeland, affirming the Jewish love of an Israel that is democratic, pluralistic, and an incubator of the best of Jewish culture and creativity, and insisting that such a worthy Israel will best thrive when our Palestinian brothers and sisters can also express their own national self-determination in their own democratic, pluralistic framework.

Bradley Burston

My hope for the pro-Israel, pro-Palestine movement this year: That ways can be found to move from Jews And Arabs Refuse to be Enemies (in itself an extremely worthy and woefully under-realized goal), to Jews And Arabs Resolve to be Full Partners. On every level. Within Israel. Throughout the Holy Land. Around the world.

The one change I would like to see in Israel is already happening – a painful, unlikely, but hugely necessary transition from an authoritarian regime based on false messianism and exploitation of fear, loathing, bullying and bigotry, to the glimmers of a society in which all human beings are actually treated as such. Nothing in the Holy Land could be more radical. Nothing is more critically necessary.

A progressive pro-Israel movement in the U.S. faces a responsibility which has grown much more vital even as it has become much more harshly daunting: Continuing to demonstrate that honest criticism of hardline Israeli policy is not by definition anti-Semitism, while at the same time fiercely calling out all forms of genuine Jew-hatred in North America, whether perpetrated by white supremacists or ostensibly in support of Palestinians.

Noah Efron

Last May, during the worst of the violence in Israel and Gaza, I turned on the radio in the middle of an interview with the owner of a Judaica store in Ramle that was set on fire the night before. The interviewer said, “How does it feel to know that this awful thing was done by your neighbors, the people who see at the market, in the streets; they are your neighbors, your customers…”, and then he stopped himself and said, “Well, they are not your customers because you sell Judaica, and they are Muslim.” The store owner said, “But they are my customers. Before every Jewish holiday, my store fills with Muslims who want to buy something special for their Jewish friends.”

The interviewer, stammering, said, “I didn’t know,” and the shop owner said, “You expected me to say, ‘You can’t trust Arabs,’ but these people are my neighbors and they are my friends and they are my customers and I buy from them, too. What happened last night, this past week, is not what our relationship is. Our relationship is like what has happened day in day out for years. Our relationship is one of peace and respect.”

It was a shocking moment, because every one of us knew the script. The radio host, and the shop owner, and everyone listening, we all knew that a man with a kippah who owns a store for Mezuzot and Talitot, whose store was set on fire by rioting kids, will say, Arabs can’t be trusted. So it was a shock to hear that man, on that day, say the script is wrong. I know these people, and my faith in them cannot be undone by a rock and a lighter.

In the new year, we could all do to see what that shopkeeper already knows: that the wretched script by which Palestinians and Jews are inescapably enemies is wrong. There are signs everywhere that this is true, if only they would register. A few days after the violence in Ramle, I went to a huge Palestinian-Jewish peace demonstration, the biggest ever during wartime, under the banner: Jews and Arabs Refuse to be Enemies.

Sarina Elenbogen-Siegel

Help us to see, source of oneness, that our struggles cannot be overcome solely from within the walls of our synagogues.

Let our work for justice be driven by love and trust in our neighbors, rather than fear and defense.

Let us contemplate, in our turning to truth this High Holy Day season, the ways in which we’ve been complicit in the oppression of Palestinians and of other people in our midst. Help us to remember the pain and strife of our ancestors and let them guide us to see the interconnectedness of oppression.

Let our work for justice be driven by love and trust in our neighbors, rather than fear and defense.

This year I ask myself, where does Jewish defensiveness of nationalism come from today? How have I been complicit in assimilation and white supremacy? How can we move beyond our privilege to build a world of love?

Rafi Ellenson

Listening to Naomi Shemer’s Al Kol Eleh – For All These Things – brings me to summer camp where my rabbi strummed a 12-string guitar singing:

For the honey, for the sting
For the bitter, for the sweet
For our infant daughter
My Sweet God, guard them

It was the first time I felt an anthem. Shimmering major and minor chords over a positively melancholy melody and words that inspire groups as diverse as settlers from Yamit in 1982 and nearly 4,000,000 viewers watching the song performed by Koolulam on Youtube.

In 5782, after a year of distance, may we be blessed with the gift of singing together.

Israelis and Palestinians deserve an anthem that serves them both. HaTikvah, while moving in its history, inherently demands exclusion in its lyrics.

As we count ways we have gone awry in Vidui this year, we would do wise to begin considering how Palestinians have been excluded de facto, discriminated against de jure, and how including Palestinians in national symbols can be a part of reparations.

In 5782, after a year of distance, may we be blessed with the gift of singing together.

And may we be blessed with the even greater gift of words to express our highest and necessary aspirations for shared society, mutual respect, and justice in a state that will honor all of its inhabitants.

In Al Kol Eleh’s chorus, Shemer writes: Do not forget the hope

May 5782 keep the hope of Hatikvah alive as well as forge an anthem that Israelis and Palestinians alike can celebrate – in all its sweetness and bitterness.

Don Futterman

I’ve always thought of the shofar as a wake-up call, literally meant to shake us alert. And we need to be shaken awake after being beaten down and beating ourselves up in recent years.

I want a renewed debate about what we think is just and fair and safe for Palestinians and for Israelis, whether that be the two-state solution I favor, a one-state solution with equal rights and status for all, or some other formulation.

I want Israeli Jews to feel that gut punch that says the status quo is not okay – regardless of who they blame – that “managing the conflict” means growing numb to oppression, to Palestinians shot while protesting, to manipulations in our courts used to steal land.

But this won’t happen by sounding the drumbeats of the past quarter century, because those messages are not heard anymore. We need new ideas and strategies.

The Pro-Israel movement in America must face legitimate criticism without blinking, without becoming defensive and without anger, to offer hope and a plan, and to bluntly call out as such attacks that seek Israel’s demise.

And we can’t vilify Jews who oppose taking risks for peace because the Palestinians are divided, Hamas seeks our destruction, or because they fear renewed terror or rocket attacks. These are reasonable responses by reasonable people. We have to create a reality in which it is reasonable to let go of those fears.

The Pro-Israel movement in America must face legitimate criticism without blinking, without becoming defensive and without anger, to offer hope and a plan, and to bluntly call out as such attacks that seek Israel’s demise.

We need our vision to be 20-20, to see the present moment in utmost clarity and to be able to look beyond this moment. There are so many Israeli Jews, Zionists around the world, Palestinians, Palestinian citizens of Israel, and friends who want justice for both Jews and Palestinians and who believe it is possible, even when leaders on both sides are not there. We must be heard and be counted.

Cantor Evan Kent

I ride the buses here in Jerusalem a lot. It’s fast, it’s easy and I don’t have to deal with Israeli drivers—who are notoriously terrible when it comes to following the rules of the road.

“Shukran,” said the Arab woman.

“Bevakasha,” said the Orthodox woman, as she handed the toddler over.

I was taking the bus to the central bus station where I was transferring to the high-speed train to Tel Aviv—again better and faster than driving—and the bus was crowded.

The door opened and an Arab woman holding a toddler in one arm and pushing a stroller with the other began to maneuver her way onto the bus. An Orthodox woman—already on the bus, with a stroller with two infants and a young boy holding onto her skirt, reached out and grabbed the baby and helped the Arab woman on.

“Shukran,” said the Arab woman.

“Bevakasha,” said the Orthodox woman, as she handed the toddler over.

For the New Year – that is what I want here in Israel.

A little respect.

A bit of kindness.

A compassionate word instead of screaming.

An appreciation and an understanding of someone else’s predicament.

An opportunity for all of us to hold that metaphoric door open, help someone onto the large bus we call home and look at each other in the eyes, smile gently and say, “Thank you.”

Rabbi Sandra Lawson

In 2015 I was a rabbinical student studying and living in Israel. Today I am a rabbi serving as the Inaugural Director of Racial Diversity Equity and Inclusion for Reconstructing Judaism. The position was to help Reconstructing Judaism realize its deeply held aspiration of becoming an anti-racist organization and movement.

Since leaving Israel, I have found discussions in the United States among Jews about Israel too toxic, and I have opted out of discussing Israel. I have preferred to focus my attention on inequities in the United States.

My aspirations are simple, and at the same time, I understand that they are quite complicated. I want peace and equality for all Israeli citizens and Palestinians.

When J Street reached out and asked me to write an aspirational reflection, I decided that this was an excellent time to express my views. So, what are my aspirations for Israel in the coming year? And what is one change I wish to see in Israel?

My aspirations are simple, and at the same time, I understand that they are quite complicated. I want peace and equality for all Israeli citizens and Palestinians. I want to see real efforts made by the Israeli government and the Palestinian Authority to create two states, and I would like to see active support from the United States government to make two states in the region where all who live in the area will have equality.

While living in Israel, I spent time with Israelis and Palestinians who want peace, and I believe in my heart of hearts that those in power must do better so that the Jewish people and Palestinian people can have a home and live side by side in peace.

Rabbi Andrea C. London

While Israel cries foul over Ben & Jerry’s boycott of Israeli West Bank settlements, de-facto annexation of occupied territory continues each day. Palestinian land is appropriated to expand Israeli settlements or to establish new Israeli outposts, Palestinian homes and schools are destroyed, Palestinians’ ability to graze their livestock and cultivate their land is curtailed by both threats and acts of violence, and Palestinian lives and livelihoods are imperiled.

WATCH: An Israeli human rights expert Michael Sfard explains occupation and annexation.

The challenge for us in the pro-Israel, pro-peace, pro-democracy movement in the United States is to find ways to demand equal rights, freedom and dignity for Palestinians while demonstrating our ongoing commitment and support of Israel.

My hope for this year is that the pro-Israel, pro-peace, pro-democracy movement will highlight the injustices faced by Palestinians by uplifting the voices of Palestinians who are subject to these abuses and the voices of Israeli allies who are working to protect Palestinian lives and property.

The challenge for us in the pro-Israel, pro-peace, pro-democracy movement in the United States is to find ways to demand equal rights, freedom and dignity for Palestinians while demonstrating our ongoing commitment and support of Israel.

As we all know, ultimately, Israel has two options if it wants to remain a liberal democracy: it can retain its Jewish character and redouble its efforts to grant Palestinians a viable independent state, or it can grant citizenship to Palestinians west of the Jordan and face the likely prospect of worsening civil strife and the end of its character as a Jewish state. I share with J Street the conviction that the former must be pursued with all due haste.

Ben & Jerry’s boycott doesn’t change this reality; it merely highlights the need to get down to the necessary work of ensuring peace and justice for Israel and the Palestinians.

Rabbi Michael Marmur

If I could, I would transform Israeli society’s understanding of one word: security.

I hope for the day when we understand that our security is profoundly linked with the legitimate aspirations of our neighbors.

For many Jewish Israelis, security is an ultimate value. In its name, military might must be accrued at any cost, and human rights are to be curtailed or ignored with little compunction. Some believe that security is guaranteed by the will of Heaven, others by the US Congress. Given our history and our geopolitical situation, it is not surprising that security issues are such a preoccupation. That is not going to change any time soon. What needs to change is our understanding of what constitutes true security. By themselves, sophisticated systems of surveillance and destruction cannot bring the security for which we yearn (although they can help some wealthy people become mega-wealthy, and also advance the global reputation of the Israeli security industry as a symbol of repression).

I hope for the day when we understand that our security is profoundly linked with the legitimate aspirations of our neighbors.

And in the spirit of the Days of Awe, I would add that advancing our security means facing up to our insecurity, and to the moral challenges we would prefer to ignore. Over the last decades, our actions have served to prove our fears, and those fears have fueled our subsequent actions. We need to find a way to break this cycle, if true security, rooted in justice and founded through empathy, is to be achieved.

Max Antman

As violence erupted between Israel and Gaza this past May, social media was consumed with images of destruction and pain. But as the dust settled on a newly agreed-upon ceasefire, the posts dwindled and eventually disappeared. Images of the devastation in Gaza and fear in Israel were replaced with post-pandemic selfies and Shabbats on the beach. The Israeli Occupation no longer appeared as clickbait on our screens, and as a result, it once again vacated our collective consciousness.

Self-preservation should never come at the expense of empathy, nor safety in exchange for human kindness.

The High Holidays call us to remember, and yet each year I am astounded by our innate ability to forget. To speak of repentance while actively disregarding the 60,000 Palestinians who became homeless after Israeli airstrikes this summer. To preach about equity while millions in the West Bank and Gaza remain without access to Covid vaccinations.

Self-preservation should never come at the expense of empathy, nor safety in exchange for human kindness.

As we begin our period of yearly reflection, let us lift up that which is too often forgotten, acknowledging our own complicity in the Israeli Occupation and the violence that occurred this year. May we take responsibility for actively and publicly critiquing Israel’s continued assault on Palestinian freedom, and commit to doing the necessary work for a just and equitable future. Speaking out in moments of violence and international attention is easy, but we must also be active participants in this work during periods of relative calm. Anything less would be a disservice to the values we claim to hold.

Jessica Montell

From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.
– Yehuda Amichai

The High Holidays is a time to reflect on what it means to be right, a word that spans a spectrum from self-righteousness to justice. Israelis often ask: do you want to be right, or do you want to be smart? Meaning: do you want to stand on your principles (and get nowhere), or do you prefer to get what you want (even if it means conceding some of your principles)?

Of course I want both!

My organization, HaMoked, provides legal aid to Palestinians under occupation. We obtain the permits to allow people to travel from one part of the occupied territories to another in spite of all the restrictions. We fight so people can get legal status to live with their family without fear of separation. We are definitely focused on “being smart” – arguing our case in the way that will be most effective for the tangible needs of the individuals involved.

But that doesn’t require that we sacrifice our principles. We must hold fast to a long term vision of a future where all Palestinians and Israelis can live in safety and dignity and freedom. Today that future looks very remote, and the path to get there is unclear. So we do what we can to alleviate the suffering caused right now by the Israeli occupation as an expression of our belief in the basic equality and equal human worth of every human being.

For some, such a strategy feels unsatisfying. Another permit and another permit and another one – so long as Israel’s military rule over the Palestinians continues, the need for such assistance will be endless. And sometimes this work does feel overwhelming, even hopeless. But as the Talmud teaches us:

,לֹא עָלֶיךָ הַמְּלָאכָה לִגְמֹר
.וְלֹא אַתָּה בֶּן חוֹרִין לִהיבָּטֵל מִמֶּנָּה
It is not your responsibility to complete the task,
But neither are you free to desist from it.

So we each do our part, each of us with faith that others are doing their part. We are working in many different ways, and all of us together can make a difference. I hope we can bring about that better future, but meanwhile I know we are making the present more humane.

Rabbi John Rosove

As liberal and progressive Zionists, the central question we need to ask is how to ground ourselves in our liberal Jewish values and apply them to our engagement with the State of Israel. In addition to that question, there are others that ought to guide us as well:

• How do our liberal Jewish values augment Israel’s democratic, diverse, and pluralistic society?
• How do we bring the moral aspirations of the Biblical prophets and the compassion of rabbinic tradition into Israel’s relationship with its Arab-Israeli citizens and the Palestinians?
• How do we join our fellow Jews around the world in fighting our enemies and assuring Israel’s security without sacrificing our moral and democratic values?
• How do we pursue peace as a moral and Jewish imperative despite the threats of terror and war?
• How do we support Israelis while advocating on behalf of democracy and the equal rights and dignity of Israel’s minorities?
• How do we oppose oppressive Israeli policies without turning our opponents into the “other” and losing the possibility of reaching the common ground of peace with the Palestinians based on justice, mutual respect, and security?
• How do we preserve a Jewish majority in Israel while supporting social justice, a shared society with Arab-Israeli citizens, and the human rights of all?

These questions evoke our liberal and progressive beliefs and inspire us to make them compatible with a liberal, progressive, and democratic Jewish nationalism.

Chemi Shalev

Over the past year, minute majorities of voters in both Israel and the United States managed to repel dangerous authoritarian assaults on their respective democracies. Their disparate electoral systems gave the U.S. a long respite to try and stem the anti-democratic surge inspired by Donald Trump but left Israel staring into an autocratic abyss – with Benjamin Netanyahu ready, willing and potentially able to push it over the edge on any given day.

Disasters averted are often disasters ignored, but Netanyahu’s authoritarian and nationalistic dream regime, the most radically right in history, remains a crystal clear and woefully present danger to Israeli democracy. It would not only undermine the rule of law to suit Netanyahu’s legal needs, it would permanently entrench the occupation, tear Israeli society apart and spark an irreversible schism with the majority of U.S. Jews.
The threat is immediate and existential. For true supporters of Israel, ignoring it is not an option.

On this Yom Kippur, firm commitment should supplant past omission. Anyone truly committed to preserving a liberal and democratic Israel must be prepared to fight those who would destroy their most cherished values. In fact, they should gear up for a two-front war: against the occupation and for democracy.

One should oppose the occupation as if Israel is a model democracy and fight for democracy as if the occupation did not exist, because the two are intertwined: A breakthrough on one front would inevitably lead to triumph in the other, just as defeat in one would spell disaster in the other. A truly liberal and democratic Israel would not tolerate the occupation for long, just as the end of the occupation could finally embed democracy and human rights in the hearts and minds of Israelis.

Anyone truly committed to preserving a liberal and democratic Israel must be prepared to fight those who would destroy their most cherished values. In fact, they should gear up for a two-front war: against the occupation and for democracy.

The battle for a liberal and democratic Israel, free from occupation, is not only just, it is what Israelis call “a war of no choice”: This is the only Israel that lovers of Israel, wherever they may be, can live with.

Sam Sussman

As the world is reborn, can we listen for what we do not know?

For all of us who believe in freedom for both Israelis and Palestinians, that is the question this new year. All around us the conversation about Israel–Palestine is changing. Social media is giving voice to a new generation of progressive American Jews and to Palestinians who have struggled to find voice in America. Educational programs have led thousands of new activists to see the occupation with our own eyes. Words once dismissed are now emanating from Israeli society — Confederation. Apartheid. Shrinking democracy.

We each come to this conversation with our own concerns: family history, political convictions, grief, idealism. As the conversation evolves, we must ask ourselves: can we listen and learn, or will we react with stubbornness and short temper?

In this new year, my aspiration for our movement is that we meet this evolving conversation with open-mindedness. As the director of Extend, an NGO that brings American Jews to Israel–Palestine, I see many inspiring examples of this. Extend participants travel from Tel Aviv to Hebron, Ramle to Ramallah, west to east Jerusalem, meeting with political, civil society, and human rights leaders. Our speakers do not agree on everything, but their shared conviction in freedom for Palestinians and Israelis is greater than their differences.

As we celebrate Rosh Hashanah, my hope for our movement is that we listen, learn, and find new ways to fight for freedom for all who live in Israel–Palestine.

Rabbi David Teutsch

Jewish ethnic triumphalism in Israel results in the unequal treatment of Arab Israeli citizens. It manifests itself in laws made by the Knesset, more frequent arrests by police and more police use of force, and a host of other issues such as the difficulty for Arab citizens to find apartments to rent. That triumphalism is more manifest in the occupied territories, where seizures of Palestinian lands, ill treatment at the frequent roadblocks, settler violence to prevent Palestinian farmers from harvesting their crops and difficulty procuring medical care are only some of the ills.

For the sake of the Jewish soul and for us to live up to our commitment to see each person as b’tzelem Elohim, a sacred reflection of the Divine, my fondest hope for Israel in the new year is that Israelis awaken to the danger and sinfulness of ethnic triumphalism. May we all take to heart the moral damage it does to us and the terrible harm that it causes us to inflict upon others. That awareness is critical if we are to have the clean hands and pure heart that our prophets demand.

Sarah Tuttle-Singer

5781. Another “complicated” year in Israel. A year when it felt like we might tear each other apart at the seams.

Sometimes, it feels too overwhelming.

So on the eve of 5782, I’m thinking back on a conversation I had with a taxi driver as we leaned into Yom Kippur several years ago.

I think I was in the last taxi out of Tel Aviv that Erev Yom Kippur.

The streets were mostly empty – and already, a few bicyclists were on Ayalon speeding toward the sunset.

That’s the thing about Israel. The whole country grinds to a halt on Yom Kippur – a stillness falls over the country, shops shutter, the radio goes silent, there’s nothing — NOTHING — on TV unless you pay extra for satellite television. But, the other thing about Israel is this place isn’t monolithic: There are people who fast. And people who don’t. There are people who pray. And people who won’t.

And while the cars hold their parking spaces for 25 hours, in places like Tel Aviv, out come the bicycles. It’s spectacular to see, actually: from old men in neon orange short-shorts to little girls in pink helmets, to fathers and mothers chasing their kids who are riding three wheelers, to teenage boys in Maccabi Tel Aviv jerseys trying to keep up with their pretty girlfriends, the highway becomes Tour De France.

But, that means we have to get off the road before sunset, before the holy day begins.

“Are you fasting?” The driver asked me.

“Eh,” he said before I could answer. “Fast if you want. Don’t fast if you don’t want. Let me tell you a story: every year on Yom Kippur me and my buddies from the army would barbecue on the beach – every single year. I brought the steaks — sometimes chorizos after Yossi got back from Argentina. We drank beer, listened to music and smoked cigarettes ‪from noon until three‬ stars. Except then one year, Yossi got a little religious on us, and he said ‘halas, let’s go to synagogue this year.’ So we did. We all went.”

“How was it?” I asked

“Ahh… first, ask me what year it was?” He said.

“What year?”

“1973, Kapara! 1973. Do you know what happened on Yom Kippur in 1973?”

Do I know what happened on Yom Kippur in 1973? While most of Jewish Israel – including these army buddies — were in synagogue on the holiest day of the year, Egypt and Syria launched a strike against Israel. Do I know what happened on Yom Kippur in 1973? There are men with broken laughs who held their friends in trenches and watched them die. There are women who never saw their husband after their last kiss. There are babies who were born just a few months later with no fathers. Do I know what happened on Yom Kippur in 1973? We were almost brought to our knees. We almost lost that war. We almost lost everything. Even the right to fast on Yom Kippur … or not fast for that matter, the right to stay in synagogue, or ride bikes down Ayalon.

“Wow,” I said.

“Nu? So? You see? We never fasted again. We never went to synagogue on Yom Kippur. And every year since, we meet on the beach and barbecue like we did every year before that one terrible Yom Kippur when we went to synagogue like everybody else.”

“Wow,” I said again, because I was – and still am – truly at a loss for words.

“Eh,” the driver said as he slowed down for the exit. “That’s just how it is. Israel depends on our diversity. It’s why we keep surviving.”

And as we lean into this new year with all the complications, I am remembering this, and carrying it with me.

About the Authors

Rabbi Dr. Brad Shavit Artson (www.bradartson.com) holds the Abner and Roslyn Goldstine Dean’s Chair of the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies and is Vice President of American Jewish University in Los Angeles. Rabbi Artson is the author of 12 books and over 250 articles, most recently Renewing the Process of Creation: A Jewish Integration of Science and Spirit. Married to Elana Artson, they are the proud parents of twins, Jacob and Shira.

Bradley Burston is a U.S.-born Haaretz columnist and has lived in Israel since 1976. He helped found Kibbutz Gezer and served in the IDF as a combat medic, before turning to journalism. He covered the first Palestinian uprising as Gaza correspondent for the Jerusalem Post, and was the paper’s military correspondent in the 1991 Gulf War. In the mid-1990s he covered Israeli-Arab peace talks for Reuters. In 2006, he received the Eliav-Sartawi Award for Mideast Journalism, presented at the United Nations.

Noah Efron hosts “The Promised Podcast” on TLV1. He is a founder and leader of Israel’s Green Party and served on the Tel Aviv-Jaffa City Council. He has written three books and many essays on the tricky intertwines of Judaism, science, technology and politics. He chairs the Program on Science Technology & Society at Bar Ilan University. His biggest regret is that he is not Nora Ephron.

Sarina Elenbogen-Siegel (she/her) is a second-year cantorial student at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion and was born and raised in Evanston, IL.

Rafi Ellenson is a literary translator and rabbinical student at Hebrew College in Newton Centre, MA. He works as the Rabbinic Intern at the Bronfman Fellowship, a mentor at the Dignity Project of the Miller Center for Interreligious Learning & Leadership, and as a freelance educator specializing in Hebrew-language learning and poetry. A graduate of Goddard College and a past recipient of the Dorot Fellowship in Israel, Rafi lived and worked in Israel between 2017 and 2020 and now lives in Somerville, MA.

Don Futterman is the Director of The Moriah Fund in Israel and the founding Executive Director of The Israel Center for Educational Innovation (ICEI). Don can be heard on TLV1’s “The Promised Podcast,” a weekly review of politics and society in Israel, and on a second podcast of autobiographical theater monologues, Futterman’s One-Man Show. Don has been a columnist for Haaretz, has written for The Daily Beast and is the author of Yaniv’s Treasure – האוצר של יניב – a children’s book published by Yedioth Books. Don is married with three children and has lived in Israel since 1994.

Cantor Evan Kent lives in Israel and is currently on the faculty of Hebrew Union College and the Levinsky College of Education in Tel Aviv. Previous to making Aliyah, Evan was the cantor at Temple Isaiah in Los Angeles for 25 years. He is a co-chair of the J Street Rabbinic & Cantorial Cabinet.

Rabbi Sandra Lawson is the Inaugural Director of Racial Diversity Equity and Inclusion for Reconstructing Judaism. She works with senior staff, lay leaders, clergy, rabbinical students, and Reconstructionist communities to help Reconstructing Judaism realize its deeply held aspiration of becoming an anti-racist organization and movement.

Rabbi Andrea C. London is the Senior Rabbi of Beth Emet The Free Synagogue in Evanston, IL and a co-chair of J Street’s Rabbinic and Cantorial Cabinet. Rabbi London works to build bridges between Chicago-area Jews, Christians, and Muslims. She chairs the Jewish Council on Urban Affairs’ Jewish-Muslim Community-Building Initiative. Rabbi London holds several national leadership positions within the Reform Movement.

Rabbi Michael Marmur is the Chair of Rabbis for Human Rights. He teaches Jewish theology at the Hebrew Union College in Jerusalem.

Max Antman is a third-year Rabbinical Student at Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion in Los Angeles. Previously, Max worked as a community organizer and activist at the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism and United Nations Foundation in Washington D.C. Max also served as a T’ruah Israel Fellow and currently sits on the Commission on Social Action of Reform Judaism (CSA).

Jessica Montell has been a leading figure in Israeli civil society for two decades. She is now Executive Director of the human rights organization HaMoked: Center for the Defence of the Individual.

Rabbi John L. Rosove is Senior Rabbi Emeritus of Temple Israel of Hollywood in Los Angeles having served as Senior Rabbi from 1988 to 2019, is a co-chair of the Rabbinic and Cantorial Cabinet of J Street, the immediate past national chairman of the Association of Reform Zionists of America (ARZA), and a member of the Union for Reform Judaism’s Israel and Reform Zionism Committee. He is the author of Why Judaism Matters — Letters of a Liberal Rabbi to his Children and the Millennial Generation (publ. Jewish Lights, 2017) and Why Israel [and its Future] Matters — Letters of a Liberal Rabbi to his Children and the Millennial Generation (publ. Ben Yehuda Press, 2019).

Chemi Shalev is an analyst specializing in the U.S. and Israel. He has served as political and diplomatic correspondent for major Israeli newspapers, most recently as chief U.S. editor and commentator for Haaretz.

Sam Sussman is co-founder and executive director of Extend, an NGO that introduces American Jews to Israeli and Palestinian human rights leaders. He has degrees in philosophy and politics from Swarthmore and Oxford.

Rabbi David Teutsch is a co-chair of the J Street Rabbinic and Cantorial Cabinet. He is the Wiener Professor Emeritus of Contemporary Jewish Civilization at the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College, and he previously served there as president and founding director of its Center for Jewish Ethics. He is the author of a three-volume Guide to Jewish Practice and editor of the multi-volume Kol Haneshamah prayer book series.

Sarah Tuttle-Singer was raised in Venice Beach on Civil Rights anthems and Yiddish lullabies. She now lives in Jerusalem in a small apartment with big windows overlooking the desert. Sarah is the author of Jerusalem Drawn and Quartered, and she hopes to finish her upcoming book of essays, Taxi Driver Stories from the Holy Land, by the end of 5782. Sarah speaks before audiences left, right, and center through the Jewish Speakers Bureau, asking them to wrestle with important questions while celebrating their willingness to do so.