By SAM SOKOL ‘Future looking very violent,’ fears local rabbi; Jewish community hunkers down, tries to ride out the storm. Cyrillic road sign for Stara Syniava Photo: Molly Gellert Odessa’s Jews are prepared to evacuate should the violence in the…
By Dennis Prager Yesterday, Jews around the world observed Holocaust Day. This day ought to be universally observed because the lessons of the Holocaust are universal. Here are some of them: 1. People are not basically good At any time…
Congressman Allen West, a Republican from the state of Florida, has warned that the state of Israel could become the site of a second Jewish Holocaust if the United States does not take further actions to protect the Jewish state against Iran. West, who is a veteran of the Iraq War, also warned that the current political turmoil in the Middle East could lead to a number of Arab and or Islamic states engaging Israel in a full blown Middle Eastern war.
Congressman West said that creation of a Hamas led Palestinian state based on pre-1967 borders is the most egregious foreign policy decision that’s ever been made and could lead to the beginning of the end for the Jewish state of Israel.
A warning from a United States Congressman that Israel could face the beginning of the end for the Jewish state and a second Holocaust is a page out of Bible prophecy for the last days.
United States Congressman Allen West, from the state of Florida, has issued a warning to the world that Israel could be in danger of a second Holocaust. This warning from West is based on the foreign policy decision of the present United States Administration and what seems to be a lack of support for Israel in its position in the Middle East. Iran has made numerous threats to wipe Israel off the face of the earth. Israel retreating to the pre-1967 borders would only enhance the Palestinian terror organization Hamas in their plan to use armed resistance to eliminate a Jewish state from the Middle East.
By Jana Chytilova
“This report is biased and one-sided and will erode a commitment we made as a church in a [2003 report] to strengthen ties with the Jewish community,” Reverend Andrew Love. . A United Church of Canada minister has started a campaign to get rank-and-file members to reject a proposal from the church’s hierarchy to launch an economic boycott against Israel.
“I really want to believe this is the workings of a very active minority in the church,” said Andrew Love, a pastor at a parish in the town of Arnprior, 55 kilometres west of Ottawa.
“The vast majority of people in the pews are not ready to embrace this kind of extremist and radical agenda from a small minority. There is a real disconnect between the leadership and its people.”
He said the proposal contains “elements of anti-Semitism” by minimizing the importance of the Holocaust.
There is a single ideological current running through a seemingly disparate collection of noxious modern political and scientific movements, ranging from militarism, imperialism, racism, xenophobia, and radical environmentalism, to socialism, Nazism, and totalitarian communism. This is the ideology of antihumanism: the belief that the human race is a horde of vermin whose unconstrained aspirations and appetites endanger the natural order, and that tyrannical measures are necessary to constrain humanity. The founding prophet of modern antihumanism is Thomas Malthus (1766-1834), who offered a pseudoscientific basis for the idea that human reproduction always outruns available resources. Following this pessimistic and inaccurate assessment of the capacity of human ingenuity to develop new resources, Malthus advocated oppressive policies that led to the starvation of millions in India and Ireland.
While Malthus’s argument that human population growth invariably leads to famine and poverty is plainly at odds with the historical evidence, which shows global living standards rising with population growth, it nonetheless persisted and even gained strength among intellectuals and political leaders in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Its most pernicious manifestation in recent decades has been the doctrine of population control, famously advocated by ecologist Paul Ehrlich, whose bestselling 1968 antihumanist tract The Population Bomb has served as the bible of neo-Malthusianism. In this book, Ehrlich warned of overpopulation and advocated that the American government adopt stringent population control measures, both domestically and for the Third World countries that received American foreign aid. (Ehrlich, it should be noted, is the mentor of and frequent collaborator with John Holdren, President Obama’s science advisor.)
This full-page newspaper ad from a prominent population control group warns that Third World people are a threat to peace. (Click to enlarge)
Courtesy Princeton University LibraryUntil the mid-1960s, American population control programs, both at home and abroad, were largely funded and implemented by private organizations such as the Population Council and Planned Parenthood — groups with deep roots in the eugenics movement. While disposing of millions of dollars provided to them by the Rockefeller, Ford, and Milbank Foundations, among others, the resources available to support their work were meager in comparison with their vast ambitions. This situation changed radically in the mid-1960s, when the U.S. Congress, responding to the agitation of overpopulation ideologues, finally appropriated federal funds to underwrite first domestic and then foreign population control programs. Suddenly, instead of mere millions, there were hundreds of millions and eventually billions of dollars available to fund global campaigns of mass abortion and forced sterilization. The result would be human catastrophe on a worldwide scale.
Read Entire Story in The Atlantis
By Dan Calic One of the most difficult issues for Christians and Jews to navigate is how to relate to each other while the proverbial 800 pound gorilla is in the room.
What’s the 800-pound gorilla? The desire on the part of Christians to evangelize Jews, and the sensitivity Jews have about uninvited conversion efforts. As one Jew eloquently stated several years ago, “Christians have to understand Jews did not volunteer to become participants in the final act of a play they didn’t write.”
Serious Christians, many of whom have a genuine love of the Jewish people, might consider doing something important if they wish to develop a meaningful, or in many cases a better relationship with Jews. They should consider repentance.
Repenting for the centuries of misunderstanding, abuse, expulsions, and the Holocaust would be an excellent starting point. Doing the same for anti-Semitism and replacement theology would be recommended as well.
by Gavriel Horan
Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau, currently the Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv and Chairman of Yad Vashem, and the former Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of Israel, is one of my personal heroes. I have long desired to meet him face to face ever since I first read about his life’s story. His tale of triumph and faith as a young boy during the Holocaust provides us with a model of personal greatness in the face of unimaginable hardship. Rabbi Lau’s bestselling autobiography has just been translated into English for the first time. “Out of the Depths” (Sterling Publishing) tells the story of his miraculous journey from an orphaned refugee to become one of the leaders of the Jewish people.
An Unbroken Chain
Rabbi Lau was born in 1937 in the Polish town of Piotrków where his father, Rabbi Moshe Chaim Lau Hy”d served as the Rabbi. At the tender age of five, his family was brutally torn apart when his father and brother were taken to the death camps. His father was the 37th in an uninterrupted chain of rabbis in the family. As such, his last instructions to his sixteen year old son Naftali were to protect his little brother, Lulek, as he was called, to ensure that the Rabbinical chain remain unbroken. A few years later Rabbi Lau’s mother’s dying wish was the same. For some reason, they both felt that their youngest son was destined to carry on the thousand year old family tradition.
by Isaac Steven Herschkopf Who could define what it meant to be a survivor? I learned the answer from Rabbi Moshe Feinstein.
I could not have been more than four or five when I asked her. It seemed to me, at the time, to be an innocent, straightforward question: “Mommy, when do I get my number?”
I was, of course, upset when she burst into tears and ran out of the kitchen, but I was also confused. This was Washington Heights in the 1950s. It was an enclave of survivors. Every adult I knew had a number. Even my teenage sister had one in blue ink tattooed on her forearm.
They were as ubiquitous on the benches of Riverside Drive as they were on the footpaths of Fort Tryon Park. If you saw an adult with some sort of hat on his head, he invariably also had a number on his arm. In the summer, when the community traveled en masse to Catskill bungalow colonies, or to Rockaway beaches, the numbers came too.
I presumed it was a ceremonious part of becoming bar mitzvah, or perhaps graduation from Breuer’s or Soloveichik, our local yeshivas. No one appeared to be embarrassed by their number. ARG! I never saw anyone try to cover it up when they went swimming. It seemed to be a matter of fact part of life.
When, as children, we would ask our parents why there was a “Mother’s Day” and a “Father’s Day,” but no “Children’s Day,” the automatic response was “Every day is ‘Children’s Day’!” In Washington Heights, in the ’50s, every day was Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day.
A tragic paradox is present in the French banning of the word “Shoah”. Giulio Meotti
France has banned the “Shoah”.
” No more “Holocaust” or “Shoah”, but the more bureaucratic, anonymous “anéantissement”, a French word that merely means annihilation.
The new French rules for the scholastic year of 2011 require the textbooks to avoid the use of any Jewish connotation for the genocide of the Jews.
by Sara Debbie Gutfreund On Tisha B’Av I can feel the weight of thousands of years of “if onlys.”
For the past few weeks I have been walking around in a daze. The terrible tragedy of Leiby Kletzky’s death feels like a constant loss wherever I turn. Last Shabbos a neighbor’s nine-year-old boy came to pick up his little sister from our house. And he looked exactly like the picture of Leiby. I felt tears spring suddenly to my eyes. Not on Shabbos, I warned myself. Do not cry on Shabbos in front of all of your children while you are serving dessert. But I felt like I was choking, like my heart was in my throat. Like I could feel somehow another mother’s heart shattering across the ocean. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I don’t know why. Usually it takes me a day or two to digest an awful story in the news. Sometimes it only takes me an hour, or just a few minutes. But these past few weeks have been different for some reason. Maybe because I have children that are around Leiby’s age. Maybe because I worry when my children are even a minute late, and I can so readily feel the agony of a mother whose child will never come home.
But what is taking my breath away lately is how the summer sun can still shine in the shadow of such loss. I cannot comprehend it. How can the sky be such a startling shade of blue on a morning like this? How can the branches of the olive tree reach so majestically upwards, cradling tiny, colorful birds who continue to sing as if no one is crying? As if a nation’s heart isn’t broken? As if a child has not just disappeared forever? How could the world just continue this way with its stunning sunsets and dawns full of hope?