To be clear, unequivocal, and on the record: I believe Zohran Mamdani poses a danger to the security of New York Jewish community.
Mamdani’s refusal to condemn inciteful slogans like “globalize the intifada,” his denial of Israel’s legitimacy as a Jewish state, his call to arrest Israel’s Prime Minister should he enter New York, and his thrice-repeated accusation of genocide in Thursday’s debate – for these and so many other statements, past, present, and unrepentant – he is a danger to the Jewish body politic of New York. For those of you who heard what I said over the High Holidays, my words should come as no surprise. For those of you who have heard what I have said over the last eighteen years, my words should come as no surprise whatsoever.
Zionism, Israel, Jewish self-determination – these are not political preferences or partisan talking points. They are constituent building blocks and inseparable strands of my Jewish identity. To accept me as a Jew but to ask me to check my concern for the people and State of Israel at the door is as nonsensical a proposition as it is offensive – no different than asking me to reject God, Torah, mitzvot, or any other pillar of my faith.
One need look no further than the events of the past week (or, for that matter, the past two years) to understand the shape and substance of the Jewish soul – how bound up we have all been with the plight of the hostages and our jubilation at their release. In our highs and in our lows, in our tortured angst and our fragile hopes, in our prayers and our protests, we feel our connection to Israel and its people. It is the invisible string that has tugged at our hearts since the very beginnings of our people.
Mamdani’s distinction between accepting Jews and denying a Jewish state is not merely rhetorical sleight of hand or political naivete, though it is, to be clear, both of those things. His doing so is to traffic in the most dangerous of tropes, an anti-Zionist rhetoric that, as we have seen time and again – in Washington, in Colorado, in ways both small and large, online and in person – has given rise to deadly antisemitic violence. This past summer, you may recall, at the Glastonbury Music Festival in England, the crowd erupted into chants of “Death to the IDF.” Where exactly would a Mamdani administration stand should that happen next summer in a concert on Governors Island, or in Central Park? I am not one to play the politics of fear. The entire thesis of my career is to play offense, not defense. But today, as I have before, I am throwing a flag on the field and calling out a threat to the Jewish people five minutes early rather than risk being five minutes too late.
For me, the breaking point came not with Mamdani’s earlier statements, his accusations of Israeli genocide, his refusal to name Hamas a terrorist organization, or, for that matter, the flimsiness of his experience, policies, and associations. For me, the damning moment came in a statement he made to a Brooklyn synagogue last week, when he sought to assure that community, as reported in the press, that his views on Israel would not amount to a litmus test for service in his administration. “I am not a Zionist,” he said. “I’m also not looking to create a city hall or a city in my image. I’m going to have people in my administration who are Zionists – whether liberal Zionists, or wherever they may be on that spectrum.”
And while one could commend Mamdani for focusing on professional qualifications rather than political inclinations, for me, the comment was a most unsettling tell. It was reminiscent of a scene from the classic cult comedy “Ted 2.” John, played by Mark Wahlberg, and his talking bear Ted are talking up their dream of opening an Italian restaurant: Eggplant parm on Tuesdays, half-price chopped salad, a place that’s open and welcoming to everyone. In Ted’s words, “A non-restricted place – anyone can come. Even Jews are welcome.”
John looks at Ted puzzled. “Well, yeah – why wouldn’t they be? Why even bring that up?”
Ted earnestly replies, “You don’t bring it up. You just let ’em in.”
“So why mention it?” John asks.
Ted responds, “No one will.” Around and around they go, comic brilliance of a “Whose on first” variety, but in this case, a parody of the casual bigotry that hides behind the veneer of friendliness, a scene that exposes the absurdity of believing that Jewish inclusion is something to be granted or announced, rather than assumed as a given.
But what is comic genius in a movie is nefarious and dangerous in real life. When Mamdani says that “Zionists are welcome” in his administration, he may think he’s offering reassurance, but he is in fact revealing something much darker – the assumption that Jewish self-determination is an ideology to be tolerated, rather than a birthright to be respected. The very need to say it betrays a bias so deeply held by Mamdani himself and his circle that it should make every one of us shudder.
Clear, unequivocal, and on the record: Mamdani poses a danger to the security of the New York Jewish community, and – if you play out the chess game of Democratic party politics – a danger that could have much wider consequences. October 25 is the deadline to register, the deadline for absentee voting, and the day early voting begins. Election day is November 4. Mobilize your networks. Every vote matters. A vote for Mamdami is a vote counter to Jewish interests. A vote for Sliwa, whatever his merits, is a vote for Mamdani. There is a path to victory, but it means every eligible voter must vote. Nobody sits this one out.
I am glad to have said what I said. It feels good to get it off my chest and I imagine for most of you, it feels good to hear me say it. There are others, I know, who disagree. First, those who believe there is a danger to essentializing the Jewish people to one issue – Israel. We will get to those people. And then there are those who agree with my concerns but believe it to be unwise to give voice to them given the likelihood of Mamdani’s election. Better, they say to hold my tongue in anticipation of the need to work with him. I hear the concern and I respect those sharing it. I understand the pragmatism. I choose principle instead. Sometimes one needs to take a stand and be on the record, and this is one of those times.
And yet, as good as it feels to speak my mind – and important as it is to do so – the truth is, doing so neither moves the electoral needle sufficiently nor addresses my deeper concern in this mayoral race.
How so? First, I am preaching mostly, if not entirely, to the converted. I had you at hello. For me to name the dangers of an anti-Zionist mayoral candidate in this community is a declaration so self-evident that not only does it risk being cliché, but it could serve to feed the very intersectional politics that have fueled Mamdani’s campaign in the first place. Hopefully my words today will prompt you and your network of likeminded voters to turn out in this election, and that is not nothing. In the last election, somewhere between fifteen and twenty percent of the eligible electorate turned out; we must do better. But all those people – and there are a lot of you – who have emailed me, called me, and texted me urging me to go scorched earth on Mamdani, to invite Andrew Cuomo to address our community, all fail to understand that it is not the Park Avenue Synagogue community that needs convincing but the Korean, African-American, and Latino communities of New York. We must turn out the vote, but if it is a win that you want, Cuomo needs to speak at more churches and fewer synagogues, more barbershops and fewer boardrooms, up his online game, and meet New Yorkers where they are. If it is a win you want, you need to stop directing your angst at your rabbi who already believes what you believe and instead direct it to the issues, places, and people where the needle needs to be moved and can be moved.
Because my real concern is the painful truth that Mamdani’s anti-Zionist rhetoric not only appeals to his base but seems to come with no downside breakage. What business does an American mayoral candidate have weighing in on foreign policy unless it scores points at the ballot box? I don’t doubt that Mamdani’s anti-Zionism is heartfelt and sincere, but its instrumentalization as an election talking point should frighten you in that it says more about the sensibilities of our fellow New Yorkers than it does about Mamdani himself. The fact that the latest polls suggest that the Jewish community of New York is almost evenly split between Mamdani and Cuomo further names the problem to be not one of our fellow New Yorkers, but our fellow Jews.
Which means that if there is a play to be made here, given the limitations of time, resources, and people, our efforts should not be directed at the folk who don’t need to be convinced: us. Nor for that matter, should we direct our energies at the folk who can’t be convinced; there is nothing you can say that will change those minds. Our efforts should be directed to where we have influence and where the needle can be moved. Those in the middle – the undecided, the proudly Jewish yet unabashedly progressive, the affordability-anxious, Netanyahu-weary, Brooklyn-dwelling, and social-media-influenced – who need to be engaged. In other words, other Jews. Jews who may not be you, but may be your friends, may be your children, and may be your grandchildren
It is these Jews, our friends and our family, who need to be persuaded to prioritize their Jewish selves. It is here that I believe that you can help and maybe, I can help you. I am imagining an informal campaign, reminiscent of what the comedian Sarah Silverman organized in 2015, when she called on young Jews to go to Florida to persuade their Bubbies and Zaydes to vote for then Senator Barack Obama. It was called “The Great Schlep.” Now, ten years later, in 2025, we need a great schlep in reverse. Not from the Upper West Side to Surfside, but from Park Avenue to Park Slope. Making the case, sharing your story, and reminding the ambivalent and undecided that Jewish identity is a not a partisan position but a sacred inheritance always in need of defense – especially today.
Who are these Jews about whom I speak? First, in many cases, they have grown up with an Israeli prime minister with whom they not only do not identify, but who represents the very antithesis of every other liberal Jewish value they hold dear. They don’t want anything to do with Netanyahu or the vision of Israel that he and his government represent. For them, Mamdani’s rejection of Israel may be a difference, but it is one of degree, not in kind. Second, these Jews feel strongly that they are not voting for the “Mayor of Jerusalem" and therefore local issues preempt everything else – like finding a job and living well in the city in which they were born without having to spend 50% of their monthly paycheck on rent. Third, the Cuomo you see as a commonsense experienced candidate – who, like any politician, comes with both personal and professional baggage – they see as an exemplar of the same-old, same-old tired politics in desperate need of being rejected. Now you may disagree, with one, two, or all three of these premises, but remember, it is not you who needs to be convinced. People’s perceptions are their realities, and you can’t tell a person how they feel. For a young professional who just wants to live a frictionless Jewish existence, who would like nothing more than to return to a pre-October-7th life when being a Jew was a nonevent, it is infinitely more appealing to keep one’s head down and vote for the candidate who is believed to be the one who will do the greatest good for greatest number of New Yorkers, no matter how preposterous some of his proposals are. It is just plain easier to do so, even if that means putting issues of Jewish concern second, even if that candidate lacks the credentials to run my fantasy football league, never mind the most complicated city in America.
So, when you talk to your friend, your colleague, your child, grandchild, niece, or nephew, under no circumstances should you roll your eyes or wag your finger. Do not do so because such an approach is sure to backfire, and, more importantly, do not do so because doing so delegitimizes the altogether legitimate thoughts that the other person holds. Begin the conversation as all conversations should begin, not by telling them how they should feel, but listening to how they do feel. As always, seek to understand, and then seek to be understood. Use, as the expression goes, the “I voice.”
When you do share your views, if it were me, I would begin the conversation by talking about love. How love – be it of another person, of family, or of country – never exists in a vacuum. How it evolves, it changes, it challenges. How the meaning of love comes not in the black-and-white cases – of love without question, or when there is no love at all – but in the gray areas – when love is tested. It is then – in those moments when we measure and re-measure, when the conditions of our love are challenged – that we find out who we really are, and discover what love is all about.
I would share with that other person that love is a commodity that neither is endless nor can be distributed equally. To be a Jew, to be anything for that matter, means to prioritize one love over another. The math is not precise; love cannot actually be measured in bushels and pecks. Concerned as we are with the well-being of humanity, we simply cannot nor should be expected to care for every human the same way. To paraphrase the moral philosopher Bernard Williams: A man who sees two people drowning, his wife and a stranger, and pauses to consider which one maximizes the public good, is a man who has had “one thought too many.”
Self-preservation and self-interest are not only legitimate, but essential to sustaining an ethical life. It is why, when the rabbinic sage Hillel was asked by a would-be convert to distill all of Jewish teaching into a single sentence, he did not quote the Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Rather Hillel said, “What is hateful to you, do not do to another.” One cannot love another as yourself, argued Hillel and Jews throughout the ages. The best we can do is to love another because they are like us, kamokha, created alike in God’s image. There are limits to love. There is a place for self-concern.
And for Jews, ahavat yisrael, love of Israel, does take precedence over other loves. Every human being is created with equal and infinite dignity, yet we prioritize the needs of our families, our people, and our nation. This week we began reading the book of Genesis, the most universal story of all – not the creation of the first Jew, but the first human being. Universal as the story is, the eleventh-century commentator Rashi immediately reads it as a justification for the Jewish claim to the land. In the eleventh century, Rashi’s comment served as a defense against the Crusader-era argument that Jews have no claim to Israel. In our day, Rashi’s comment can be read as a reminder to progressive Jews of the legitimacy of the Jewish claim to the land. You can love Israel without loving all Israelis. You can love Israel without loving its government. In this moment when the Jewish connection to Israel sits precariously at the intersection of identity politics and rising antisemitic violence, it is not only allowable to place the Jewish body politic at the forefront of our concern; it is required of us.
Some will argue that disqualifying Mamdani because of his anti-Zionist posture only feeds the antisemite’s charge of dual loyalty. I hear this objection and respect those who say it, and I fully reject the argument. I reject it first because it surrenders to a Jewish insecurity and fear about what the antisemites might think. I don’t care what the antisemite thinks, and neither should you. And second, I reject it because it betrays a category error with regard to the place Israel has in my Jewish being. Israel is not a detachable policy preference; it is integral to my Jewish identity. To delegitimize Israel, as Mamdani has repeatedly done, is an attack on my personhood as a Jew, as an American, and as an American Jew. This is not about dual loyalty; this is about my fundamental security and the security of my co-religionists.
And lest you think I don’t understand, be assured that I do. I understand that it is not easy. It is hard to prioritize love of Israel when the government of Israel does not reflect your sensibility – that feeling of your love being tested. I understand that it is hard to prioritize one’s Jewish self over the array of other identity labels we wear. I understand that it is hard to reach beyond the sparkle of the shiny new object in favor of the one that is scuffed, worn, and familiar.
I wish it were otherwise. I wish we had two candidates with equal interest, or better yet, equal disinterest in the Jewish community. I would love nothing more than our mayoral contest to be focused solely on affordability, food instability, education, policing, sanitation, taxes – the everyday issues that shape our great city’s life. A contest where all of you could argue to your heart’s delight about which policies best serve the future of our great city, and I could give sermons on – well – anything else. But this election cycle, that is simply not the case. We can only play the cards we are dealt. And in this hand, I choose to play the one that safeguards the Jewish people, protects our community, and ensures that our seat at the table remains secure. I choose steadiness over spectacle, tested loyalty over reckless gamble.
It is, by a certain telling, a story as old as the Garden of Eden itself. We stand here – staring at that Big Apple, if you will – wondering what is in our long-term best interest. The options are in front of us. We are wrestling within and with each other and we know we have to make a choice. That feeling – it is what makes us human. Embracing our agency in determining our future – that, too, makes us human.
It is not easy, so let us choose wisely: To engage, to mobilize, to turn conviction into action, self-concern into ballots and most of all, to vote.
Now is the time to make your voice heard.