First, let’s get my bias outta the way: I love me some Hymie’s Deli matzo brei. That’s this Jewish delicacy — matzoh and eggs fried together into a pancake; with each delectable bite, I swear you can actually feel your arteries harden. So, yes, I harbor grand affection for the 70-year-old Main Line Jewish deli, with its giant pickle bar and its coffee mugs that read Life. Liberty. Pastrami.
But now comes a Trump ad set there, produced by the Republican Jewish Coalition, targeting undecided Jews at a time when a recent poll shows that 72 percent of American Jews support Kamala Harris. But, given the political aftereffects of October 7, some of that support is now seen as up for grabs.
In keeping with these times, the Hymie’s Trump ad has folks losing their minds. On social media and in the blogosphere, there are calls to boycott the deli. (More matzo brei for me and my arteries!) Owner Louis Barson has had to proclaim in the pages of The Inquirer that he’s a registered independent, lest the true believers come for his proverbial head.
People are outraged — some because it’s a Trump ad, some because of the boycott talk, some because of the misleading content in the actual copy. (At the exact moment I first saw the ad, which claims Harris is “busy defending the Squad,” she was on a stage shoulder-to-shoulder with Republican Liz Cheney.)
I’ve watched the ad time and again, trying to figure out my own reaction. And I think it’s this: Likely unintentionally, this attempt to persuade undecided Jews to support Trump actually perpetuates Jewish stereotypes. Check it out:
Let’s be clear here: This may have been filmed in a real local place, but it’s three actors reading a script. They’re playing at being Jews, and the result is, at best, bad parody, with the “oy vey” and the made-up allegation about “Samantha’s boy Max” spat on — at Penn. Then there’s the Jewish mother fear trope, complete with what is, to some of us, a familiar Judaic backward syntax: “You know, Trump I never cared for, but at least he’ll keep us safe.”
Stereotypes become stereotypes by being grounded in some truth, and then easily given to distortion. Watching the ad, yes, I felt like I’ve known people who speak this way. But I also felt that hordes of Americans would tune in and conclude that this is Jewishness, full stop.
A year ago, similarly, I was critical of the way Jewish billionaire Penn donor Marc Rowan used his fortune — or, more accurately, the threat of withholding it — to bully then-Penn President Liz Magill out of her job. Couldn’t you just hear it? There go the Jews again, throwing their money around, controlling our institutions. (Despite the fact that, according to a report from Jews for Racial & Economic Justice, of the 13.1 million people in the world who are millionaires, 56.2 percent are Christian, 6.5 percent are Muslim, 3.9 percent are Hindu and only 1.7 percent are Jewish, and that 45 percent of all children in New York Jewish households live at or below the poverty line.)
Fact is, the RJC ad aids and abets a different type of dangerous stereotype, one that Trump has invoked for years: that American Jews have a dual loyalty and place the security of Israel above that of the United States, going so far as to advance the blood libel that Jews who vote for Democrats are “disloyal” to Israel. In speaking to Jewish groups, Trump consistently refers to Israel as “your country” and Bibi Netanyahu as “your prime minister.” (Italics are mine.) Once, he praised a roomful of Jews for being “great negotiators.”
Resonating with undecideds?
Is the Hymie’s ad of a piece? I called the most reasonable Republican Jew I know to hash it out. Jeff Bartos is a former statewide candidate for Lieutenant Governor and U.S. Senate; he acquitted himself quite well in both of those runs. He’s also on teams McCormick and Trump when it comes to Israeli policy.
“I would say the ad is not a stereotype because it is clearly directed to undecided American Jewish voters,” Bartos said when I caught up with him this week. “I acknowledge other people will see it, but it’s not like the campaign is speaking to Kanye or Nick Fuentes or Rashida Tlaib.”
True, but that “other people will see it” part is kinda key, no? But then Bartos walked me through why he thinks the ad is resonating deeply with undecided Jews. “Look, since October 7, my wife has had conversations like that one,” he said. “My daughters have had conversations like that. That ad is hitting American Jews in their gut because we’re still in trauma from October 7. I can’t tell you how many Jews marched in solidarity with Black Lives Matter and the Women’s March, and then when the worst attack against Jews since the Holocaust takes place, they looked around and all those people they marched with were not around.”
It’s a compelling point. But mine is more limited — and less political — in scope. My critique is neither pro-Trump or pro-Harris. Let’s play a little game and rewrite the ad as a pro-Harris commercial:
[VIDEO: THREE JEWISH WOMEN SEATED AT A JEWISH DELI BEFORE A HEAPING MOUND OF MATZO BREI AND BAGELS.]
YENTA 1: Did you watch the news lately? Israel’s under attack, anti-Semitism like I never thought I’d see.
YENTA 2: Did you hear about Trump? He had dinner with that anti-Semite, Nick Fuentes!
YENTA 3: And he says he wishes he had Hitler’s generals! What kind of meshuggenah says such a thing!
YENTA 1: And he says October 7 wouldn’t have happened on his watch, because he would have negotiated a deal.
YENTA 2: Oy, negotiating with terrorists, just what we need.
YENTA 3: I’ve always voted Republican because of taxes, but this year, because of all his mishagos, I’m voting for Kamala.
I’m having some fun, I know — but here’s the point: That commercial would have been just as bad as the Trump Hymie’s version, no? It would have been just as counterproductive in its easy aiding and abetting of stereotype. That is precisely not how we come to common understanding.
You want to do that? Check out this hour-long discussion between three Harris-leaning and three Trump-leaning Jewish voters conducted by The Free Press. It’s thoughtful and enlightening. There’s no cheap attempts at manipulation. You get a sense of how complicated these matters are, particularly for American Jews in this moment, and — critically — how much common ground there truly is.
To make sure I wasn’t overreacting after seeing the Trump Hymie’s ad, I called an old friend — Rabbi Seymour Rosenbloom, whose wisdom has periodically graced The Citizen. Essentially, he told me to chill. When I referenced the ad, he laughed heartily. Why? “Because it’s laughable,” he said between guffaws. “Three bubbes at Hymie’s? Is that really what we’re talking about? If we want to deal with anti-Semitism, there are far better tropes to focus on — including those advanced by the former president — than what three imaginary bubbes are saying at Hymie’s!”
Significantly, both phone calls ended the same way. Both Bartos and Rosenbloom agreed: Right after the election, let’s meet up … at Hymie’s. Hell, maybe all three of us can come together over some matzo brei and at least start a conversation about just how in the hell Americans can begin to learn to live together and disagree better.
Correction: An earlier version of this story misspelled the former Penn president’s name. It is Liz Magill.
