Hear Our Voice

Sometimes I wonder how it is that we Jews have indeed survived (and thrived) as long as we have. Not despite the slings and arrows of history. And not despite the pitifully small percentage of the world’s population we represent. Not despite the fact that in every society in which we have lived, we often stick out by means of our theologies, rituals, and calendar, not to mention the way in which so much of our affirmations stand in contrast to the general population. But despite our dogged commitment to ideals.

It is quite astounding, not only that we tell in detail the story of the Exodus that frames our narrative in the context of a long suffering, rarely victorious people in the annals of history. Or because as soon as that centrally framing story of the Exodus from Egypt begins, when we’ve barely entered the wilderness, we are reminded and commanded to not limit our focus to ourselves. What are we taught again and again and again and again? “You shall love the stranger for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” Not only that, we are taught early on in this narrative that the people who came out of Egypt were an erev rav, a mixed multitude, suggesting that we shouldn’t simply imagine that all of we 600,000 ex-slaves are the direct descendants10 of Abraham and Sarah. From the earliest moment of our Exodus story, we are taught that we are more like a band of misfits with no clear pedigree, united  by the crucible of coming forth from slavery to freedom. Teaching again and again and again and again that we must love and care for and support and make room for the stranger in our midst. The driving force of so much of liberal Judaism, Tikun Olam, doesn’t come from nowhere. This tension between yearning for the Promised Land for the Jewish people AND becoming a light unto the nations for how the rest of the world OUGHT to operate in their own nations has catapulted us to great heights and sabotaged us with great peril.  

I understand this central and sacred Jewish drive to stand up for the OTHERS in our world, even if they represent vile and vitriolic hate, too often projected at the Jewish people. It’s remarkable to me to see so many Jewish voices expressing support for someone like Mahmoud Khalil, the recently graduated, Columbia student, who is a permanent US resident (thanks to his Green Card) being detained and threatened with expulsion from the US. I’m sure you’ve heard and read about it. I am not going to weigh in with my opinion, mostly because it’s not clear to me. There are really smart voices on both sides of the argument – one side argues that Khalil’s speech has amounted to violent action in our society and therefore is deserving of this action and the other side standing upon the sacred right for free speech, so central and crucial to our free society. 

Hussein Aboubakr Mansour, senior fellow at the Jerusalem Center for Security and Foreign Affairs writes: 

Mahmoud Khalil, a Syrian-born Palestinian, came to this country in 2022 as a guest, ostensibly to study at Columbia University. While here, he spent his time organizing campus protests in support of Hamas and Hezbollah, both officially designated by the United States as foreign terrorist organizations. In these riots, buildings were vandalized, windows smashed, classes disrupted, and students threatened with physical harm.

While Eli Lake of The Free Press, counters:

[After affirming his own disgust with Khalil’s actions], …it might surprise you [therefore] that I [nonetheless] think the Trump administration’s effort to deport Khalil, who is a permanent legal resident of the United States, sets a horrifying precedent for free speech in America.

This is because the government’s rationale for deporting him is not that he committed property crimes. It’s not that he provided material support to Hamas. Nor is it that he coordinated his or CUAD’s activities directly with Hamas.

The reason Khalil is being deported is because of his speech.

Well, I hope the irony is not lost on you here that Mansour, the advocate for removing Khalil, is an Egyptian-born, former jihadist-turned US academic and Army Veteran, while the challenger to Khalil’s removal, Eli Lake, is an American-born, politically conservative, Jewish journalist.  Both writers insist that this isn’t only about Khalil; that so much more is at stake. 

I believe that the power of this moment for us “normies” doesn’t lie in the final decision to be made.  It lies in the fact that this country (and Israel as well), guarantees the right of robust conversation and debate, without the threat of state sanction and arrest.  There are going to be exigencies that pour out of this issue as the debate proceeds.  But what all of us desperately need to pay attention to, appreciative of, and committed to, are the guardrails that will continue to allow the freedom of non-violent expression that is the cornerstone of what makes Jews (and all other minorities) safe.