08 Sep NOT IN OUR NAME: MAMDANI’S VISIT TO EICHLER’S

A Jewish neighborhood.
A controversial and
deeply divisive mayor.
A crowd of admirers—
and one woman
standing alone in
protest.

When Mayor Mamdani walked into Eichler’s
in Boro Park, he was greeted not with hostility,
but with smiles, handshakes, cheers, gifts, and
admiration. Members of the Jewish
community gathered around him, eager to
welcome the city’s newly elected mayor. For
a moment, the scene seemed to send a
powerful message: Boro Park was ready to
embrace Mamdani.
But then there was the woman who refused to
join the celebration.
Standing amid the crowd, she protested
against the mayor and the spectacle unfolding
around her. While others saw an opportunity
to welcome the city’s new leader and establish
a relationship with him, she saw something
very different: an unacceptable display of
admiration for a politician whose positions
have raised profound concerns among many
Jews.
Who is right?
Is greeting Mayor Mamdani simply smart
politics and responsible community relations?
Can a Jewish community maintain cordial
relations with a mayor while firmly rejecting
positions it considers dangerous or
objectionable? And where is the line between
diplomacy and endorsement?
To understand where the proper balance lies,
we must turn to the Torah and the teachings of
Chazal.
The Torah presents several striking examples
of Jews showing honor and deference to
people in positions of power. Perhaps the
most famous is Yaakov Avinu’s encounter
with Eisav.
Eisav was no ordinary political adversary. He
was Yaakov’s brother who harbored hatred
toward him and came toward him with four
hundred men. Yet when Yaakov encountered
Eisav, the Torah tells us that Yaakov bowed
before Eisav seven times. He also sent him an
enormous gift and addressed him respectfully.
Yaakov’s conduct certainly cannot be
understood as an endorsement of Eisav’s
values. Eisav represented a worldview
fundamentally opposed to that of Yaakov and
his descendants. Nevertheless, Yaakov
understood that there are circumstances in
which showing respect and seeking peace
with a powerful individual is appropriate.
Perhaps this is how we can understand the
warm welcome given by many members of
our community to Mayor Mamdani. Their
greeting does not necessarily mean that they
endorse his political positions or worldview.
Perhaps they were demonstrating respect
toward a powerful political figure while
seeking to establish a productive relationship
with the person who now holds authority over

New York City.
The Torah provides another remarkable
example in the way Yaakov Avinu interacted
with Pharaoh.
Pharaoh was not merely a political leader with
whom the Jewish people happened to
disagree. He was the ruler who enslaved Bnei
Yisrael and decreed that their male children
be thrown into the Nile. Yet when Yaakov
stood before Pharaoh, the Torah tells us: “And
Yaakov blessed Pharaoh.”
This is remarkable. Yaakov stood before the
ruler of Egypt, a king whose government
would eventually enslave his descendants,
and yet he did not treat him with contempt. He
was able to maintain his own beliefs and
principles while simultaneously showing
respect to the king.
The lesson is important: respecting a ruler
does not necessarily mean respecting
everything the ruler believes or does. One can
recognize the authority of an office, maintain
a relationship with the person occupying it,
and speak respectfully while firmly opposing
his policies.
But the Torah and Chazal also present the
opposite approach.
In the story of Purim, Mordechai finds himself
in a very different situation. When Haman
leads him through the streets of the city on the
king’s horse, Mordechai does not respond
with the deference one might expect toward
the king’s representative. When Haman helps
Mordechai mount the horse, Mordechai kicks
him with his foot before climbing onto the
horse.
Rather than showing Haman the honor
ordinarily accorded to a representative of the
king, Mordechai treated him with open
contempt. His conduct reflected a deliberate
refusal to honor Haman, despite the authority
he wielded.
Chazal themselves address this very tension.
The Gemara in Megillah (6b) teaches:
“.אם ראית רשע שהשעה משחקת לו — אל תתגרה בו”
“If you see a wicked person whose hour is
smiling upon him, do not provoke him.”
The Gemara explains that when a wicked
person is enjoying success and power, his
position is particularly formidable. The
Gemara then discusses the apparent
contradiction between this teaching and the
statement that it is permissible to provoke the
wicked in this world, offering several
distinctions. One of the conclusions is:
“When his hour is smiling upon him, it is
different.”
Chazal are therefore recognizing an important
principle: the proper response to a problematic
or even wicked individual may depend not
only upon who he is, but also upon the
circumstances and the degree of power he
currently possesses.
Accordingly, since the mayor appears to have
“the hour smiling upon him” and currently
holds considerable political power, there may
be a strong argument for greeting him warmly

rather than provoking him. From the
perspective of the Gemara in Megillah,
diplomacy and restraint may therefore be the
wiser course.
But there is an important limit to this
approach.
In Sotah (41b), the Gemara relates the famous
incident involving King Agrippas during the
mitzvah of Hakhel. Agrippas stood before the
people and read the Torah. When he reached
the words — “You may not appoint over
yourself a foreigner” — he began to cry,
because of his lineage.
Seeing the king’s distress, the people called
out to him — “You are our brother, you are
our brother.”
The Gemara then makes a shocking statement:
“At that moment, Israel became deserving of
destruction because they flattered Agrippas.”
The Gemara is not teaching that every
expression of respect toward a king is
forbidden. The problem was that the people
crossed the line from legitimate respect into
חנופה. They told Agrippas something that was
not true simply to make him feel better.
This distinction is crucial. There is a difference
between respecting a person’s position and
flattering the person himself. There is a
difference between diplomacy and admiration,
and between maintaining a relationship with a
powerful leader and publicly identifying
ourselves with everything he represents.
Let’s go a step further:
In recent years, we have witnessed two
radically different approaches within the
Jewish world.
On one side are those who believe that Jews
must avoid unnecessary confrontation with
powerful figures and nations. Some groups,
most notably Neturei Karta, have even gone
so far as to embrace or publicly engage with
some of Israel’s most bitter enemies. Their
approach is based on the belief that
confrontation and political power do not
necessarily protect the Jewish people, and that
accommodation and opposition to
confrontation may offer a safer path.
Others have taken almost the exact opposite
approach.
They believe that after nearly two thousand
years of exile, the Jewish people have entered
a fundamentally different stage of history. We
are no longer a powerless minority dependent
upon the goodwill of foreign rulers. Hashem
has granted us a Jewish state, political
influence, military strength, and a renewed
sense of national identity.
Their message is therefore very different: We
should no longer bow our heads before the
nations. We should stand tall as Jews and
express our Jewish identity and pride openly.
Perhaps the difference lies in how we
understand the era in which we are living.
There are two fundamentally different
understandings of our present situation, and
each naturally produces a very different
approach.

Those who believe that we remain fully in
exile—even while living in the Land of
Israel—will naturally view our relationship
with the nations through the lens of galut.
Throughout the generations, Jews lived under
foreign rulers and understood the importance
of maintaining peaceful relations with those
who held power. Chazal taught us to respect
government authority, to avoid unnecessary
confrontation, and to conduct ourselves
wisely before the nations.
In galut, the Jew often had little choice but to
recognize the power of the ruler standing
before him.
But there are others who believe that we are
living in the final stages of the geulah. They
see the return of the Jewish people to the Land
of Israel, the establishment of Jewish
sovereignty, and the renewed strength and
confidence of the Jewish people as signs that
we are no longer living in the same historical
reality that defined Jewish life for centuries.
If that is indeed the reality of our times,
perhaps the Jewish response should also be
different.
Perhaps we can finally raise our heads.
Perhaps we can express Jewish pride publicly
without constantly worrying about how the
nations will react.
Perhaps we can protest political leaders
without feeling that we might lose their
approval.
And perhaps we can say clearly: We will work
with you when necessary, but we will not
pretend to admire what we believe is wrong.
Perhaps the answer determines how we
should interpret what happened at Eichler’s.
There is nothing inherently wrong with
meeting a mayor. There is nothing wrong with
speaking to him, working with him, or even
welcoming him into our community. Political
relationships are necessary, and a responsible
Jewish community must maintain
relationships with those who govern it.
But we must be careful.
A handshake is one thing. A public celebration
is another.
Respect for an office is one thing. Admiration
for a political worldview is another.
Diplomacy is one thing. Flattery is another.
And perhaps the woman who stood alone in
protest was raising the question that the rest of
us need to ask:
When we welcome a powerful political leader
into our community, are we simply being
diplomatic—or are we sending a message that
we have embraced him and what he
represents?
That is the line we must learn to recognize in
my opinion.