To villagers, Bukele is a hero. To human rights groups, he is a villain who laws that deny accused criminals their most basic rights.
Can a State Fund What it Doesn’t Believe?
Why should Israel fund a religious authority that treats men and women differently? Shalzed discovers that the answer isn’t nearly so simple.
A statue gets 75,000 reactions. The war gets less
Shalzed can’t understand why one damaged statue sparks instant outrage while far greater suffering remains endlessly debated.
I Put the Dishes in the Microwave. Then Shalzed Asked About Nukes
Why do we trust some countries with nuclear weapons, but not others?
Shalzed stopped me on my way to buy a post-Passover pizza to ask about Israel’s death penalty law.
Shalzed thinks equal justice should be simple: the same crime, the same punishment. A conversation with Itamar Ben Gvir complicates things.
Spain apologized for 1521. Shalzed is upset. What if Passover is next?
Spain apologizes for something that happened 500 years ago. Shalzed wonders how long responsibility for the wrongs of our ancestors should last.
I told Shalzed it was just tough talk about the war. Then he surprised me. . .
I tried to explain that Hegseth probably didn’t mean literally what he said at the press conference. Then Shalzed asked why I don’t give our enemies the same benefit of the doubt.
The Noise Outside
The Noise Outside
“Everyone take some matzah,” my dad said as he passed around the plate. Shalzed inspected the matzah carefully, then cracked off a small piece and passed it along to Nora.
“We’re supposed to eat it while reclining,” Maya said.
“Very good,” my dad responded. “Do you know why?”
“We didn’t learn that,” Maya replied.
“But wouldn’t eating while leaning back be dangerous for humans?” Shalzed asked. “The odd construction of your throat makes you prone to choking.”
There was a sharp crack outside, then a crashing noise that made it sound like a window had shattered. “What was that?” my mom asked, standing up quickly. Everyone looked around.
“We should call the police,” my sister said, taking out her phone.
“It was probably just the wind,” Nathan said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Or maybe an animal.”
“These days we’re all targets,” my mom said. “Some people hate Jews no matter where we are.”
“He can protect us,” Maya said, pointing at Shalzed.
I wondered if Shalzed had any advanced sort of item he could use in self-defense. I hoped so. I felt a little scared myself.
“Why would anyone want to harm a family’s holiday celebration?” Shalzed asked.
My mom put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you know about anti-semitism?” she asked.
I stood up. “Let me take a look,” I said, starting towards the windows.
“Be careful,” my mom told me.
I looked out as best I could. “I don’t see anyone on the sidewalk. One car just drove by, and it’s turning left at the corner.”
“Can you see the license plate?” my mom asked. “They could have done it.”
“Done what?” Nathan asked.
“Maybe thrown a rock through the downstairs window,” my mom said.
“But honey, why?” my dad asked. “How would anyone know that we and the neighbors downstairs are Jewish?”
“They could have seen holiday candles,” my mom said. “Or maybe the mezuzah. . .”
“Listen,” Nathan interjected. “Antisemitism is real, but you have to remember that we still are very fortunate. Even with everything that’s happened, here in the United States Jews are safer than almost anywhere else in the world.”
“Not for long,” my dad said. “That’s why I’m getting a concealed carry permit.”
“Are you really?” my sister exclaimed. He had told me a few weeks ago. The idea made me uncomfortable, but I knew my dad would be responsible.
“We have to check downstairs, make sure they’re alright,” my mom said.
“I’ll call, do you have the number?” my sister asked.
My mom shook her head. “I don’t think they’ll talk on the telephone when it’s a holiday.”
“So I’ll go down,” my sister replied. She got up quickly and went out the front door.
Everyone was silent for a moment. There was no more noise outside, and no sound of anything else breaking.
“I just don’t understand,” Shalzed said again. “Why would anyone attack a Jewish family celebration?”
“Don’t you know what just happened in Michigan?” my dad said. “A man attacked a synagogue with his car because he’s upset about the war in Lebanon.”
“Don’t forget the Tree of Life shooting in Pittsburgh,” I added. “And there have been plenty more synagogue shootings since.”
Nora suddenly spoke up. “That’s why I’ve been pleading with you all to stop wearing anything that makes you look Jewish,” she said. “It’s not worth the risk. Personally, I don’t even want to go to the Jewish Community Center, even for exercise.”
My dad cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Nora, that’s letting them win. We cannot live in fear. There’s no reason we shouldn’t be proud of our identity.”
“Even if you say you hate Israel, it won’t help,” my mother added. “A Jew is a Jew and they hate us all.”
There was another moment of silence, and then we heard my sister’s voice in the stairway. A moment later she came back.
“Everyone is fine,” she said. “Something made of glass fell on their patio. It looks like it was some sort of pitcher or something like that.”
“A glass pitcher on their patio?” my dad asked.
“They’re going to clean it up after the seder,” my sister said.
My dad stood up. “Just a minute, I want to check something,” he said as he went into the kitchen.
“Who would throw a glass pitcher?” my mom asked.
“Not onto the patio,” Nathan said. “That would be impossible.”
I thought about that, and he was probably right.
My dad returned, his shoulders slumped forward and looking down at the ground. “I think I know what happened,” he said.
“What?” my mom asked.
“Well, when I went to bring more charoset I also hid the afikomen,” he said. Maya stared, probably realizing something must be really wrong for him to admit to hiding the afikomen. “I put it on the porch, under the pitcher. . .”
“Do you mean the pitcher that used to belong to your grandmother?” my mom asked.
My dad nodded. “I guess when I put the matzah under it, it was on a bit of an angle. Then maybe there was wind or something and. . .”
“So now it’s gone?” my mom interrupted again.
My dad shrugged. “Well, it’s not there anymore. And our porch is right above the patio downstairs.”
“Why would anyone have even left that pitcher on the ledge?” my mom demanded.
“Well there was nowhere else to put it,” my sister said. “The kitchen is full, and everything else on the porch is chametz.”
“It’s okay,” my dad said. “We still have plenty of other utensils from my grandmother, and that’s the way it is. Things break every once in a while.”
My mom took a deep breath. “Well thank goodness it wasn’t anything worse,” she said, sitting back down at her place. “Let’s just continue with the seder.”
“Does everyone have a piece of matzah?” my dad asked.
Shalzed picked up the little piece on his plate. “But why would anyone hold Jewish people here responsible for violence far away?” he asked. “It makes no sense.”
No one answered for a moment. Then my sister said, “Welcome to planet Earth,” rather rudely.
Questions for Discussion:
- If you were sitting at the table, what would you have said during the conversation?
- Some characters want to change their behavior to stay safe, such as by not wearing Jewish symbols. Others say that would mean “letting them win.” How do we balance safety with living openly as who they are?
- Why does Shalzed find the situation confusing? What assumptions about fairness or responsibility does he seem to have that people on Earth sometimes do not follow?
The Drone Fund: Should War Be an Investment?
For investors, war can be profitable. A new fund seeks to capitalize on rising demand for drones and ammunition — but is the right way to boost your savings? Shalzed investigates.
The Drone Fund: Should War Be an Investment?
I was at home doing my taxes when Shalzed rang the doorbell. I buzzed him up. “Welcome,” I said as he came in the door.
“I wanted to. . .” he began. Then he noticed that I was working at my computer and asked if I was busy.
I smiled. “Just finishing up my taxes,” I told him.
He noticed a paper on my desk. “What’s that?” he asked, wrinkling his forehead.
“It’s the fact sheet for an investment a friend of mine recommended,” I replied. “I’m going to make a contribution to my retirement fund before I file, and I need to decide what to do with it.”
Shalzed picked up the paper. “A fund for drones and modern warfare?” he asked.
I shrugged. “With the current war in Iran, along with what’s been going on in Ukraine, defense spending is sure to go up,” I told him. “And now every military needs drones.”
Shalzed looked aghast. “You want to make money by investing in companies that build robots that kill people?” he asked.
I hadn’t really thought about that before, and suddenly I felt uncertain. “It’s just an investment,” I mumbled. Then I found myself inside the familiar black tunnel, and a moment later I was standing next to Shalzed in a large executive office. A middle aged man wearing a blue suit and blue tie was sitting behind a desk, staring at his computer. A name plaque on the desk said Matthew Bielski, CEO of Defiance ETFs. Behind him, a city skyline showed through a wall of glass.
“How can you encourage people to invest in companies that make weapons?” Shalzed asked.
Bielski shook his head in surprise. “Who are you?” he asked.
“I had been thinking of investing in your drone warfare fund,” I told him. “My friend is here to learn about human rights, and he has some questions.”
“Our funds have a solid track record of outperforming the market. I believe drone technology could be Wall Street’s next big winner.”
“But do you really want to profit from making machines that kill?” Shalzed asked.
Bielski frowned. “If it wasn’t for drones, Russia would have already taken over Ukraine.”
“What if drones are used for war crimes?” Shalzed asked.
“That’s the responsibility of whoever uses them, not us,” Bielski said.
A guy in his twenties carried a stack of papers into the office. “The DRNL documents are ready for you,” he told Bielski.
“Great,” Bielski said. “I’ll take care of it in a minute.”
“DRNL?” Shalzed asked.
“It’s a new, leveraged fund that gives twice the daily performance of companies making drones and their ammunition,” he said. Then he looked at me. “It’s for active, experienced traders,” he said.
I guess he could sense that I was a teacher with just a few thousand dollars in my IRA, not someone who played the stock market.
“So you’re hoping for more wars,” Shalzed said, pointing one of his long, blue fingers at Bielski. “Because every time there’s a war, you profit.”
The guy who brought the papers looked smug. “If they aren’t fighting a war, they’re arming for the next one,” he said.
Bielski clicked his tongue. “We don’t start wars,” he said. “The companies we buy stock in just give governments the tools they need to protect their citizens.”
“But buying the stock of companies that make weapons enables them to develop. Then you’re part of the whole war machine,” Shalzed said.
Bielski leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “So just one question,” he began.
“What?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable with the silence.
“If you don’t like weapons, what do you think would be a better investment?”
“How about companies that make food?” Shalzed said quickly. “That’s something all people need.”
Bielski scoffed. “Do you really want to support factory farming? Or companies that make cheap processed food that’s a health disaster?”
“What about companies that make clothing?” Shalzed asked.
Bielski smiled. “Most of them operate sweatshops and many are accused of modern slavery.”
Shalzed wrinkled his forehead. “What about transportation? Trains, planes, and automobiles?”
“Ever heard of climate change?” Bielski asked. “Car companies are lobbying against rules requiring cars to be more efficient. Airplanes are one of the biggest polluters.”
Shalzed looked down.
“Well right now I just own an index fund,” I said.
Bielski grinned. “So congratulations, you already have weapons companies in your portfolio,” he said. “There are at least a dozen in the S&P 500.”
Suddenly I was in the tunnel, and a moment later back in my apartment. This time Shalzed was still with me. I turned to my computer. I don’t know why, but I felt it would be embarrassing for Shalzed to see how much money I made. But the tax program had timed out.
Shalzed picked up the fund’s fact sheet again. “So are you really going to buy stock in companies working to perfect drone warfare?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure. “The amount I’d invest is almost nothing compared to what companies are worth. It’s not going to make any difference,” I told him.
“If you see on the news that children were killed in a drone strike, do you want to feel like you had even a small part in that?” he asked. “When you see countries launching waves of drones, will it make you happy to think that means more orders?”
I swallowed. “I’m just trying to make my retirement account go up,” I said.
Shalzed turned towards the door, then stopped to glance at the drone fund fact sheet, still on my desk. “And do you want Earth fighting wars with even more advanced weapons by the time you retire?” he asked.
Before It’s Too Late
The United States and Israel claimed self-defense as the justification for their attack on Iran. But even though Iran is a hostile country that has threatened the U.S. and Israel many times, it didn’t seem to be a significant threat right now. Shalzed confronts U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Mike Waltz with this question.
Before It’s Too Late
I was on the phone with my brother, who had moved to Israel four years ago. He was telling me about how his daughter was very upset about school being cancelled when the siren sounded. I hung up right away so he and his family could get to their shelter. Then Shalzed called.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “How could the U.S. and Israel launch such an attack?”
“Well, we can’t let Iran get nuclear weapons.”
“But that’s not a reason to start a war,” Shalzed said.
I figured Shalzed probably didn’t know much about Iran. Before I could say anything, though, I was in the black tunnel. By now I was used to it enough that I was no longer afraid, and I really wanted to find out how it worked. A moment later I was outside the United Nations in New York, with Shalzed next to me. A man wearing a blue suit with a U.S. flag pin on his jacket was standing nearby, trying to attach a lapel microphone to his jacket. “Ambassador Waltz,” Shalzed called.
The Ambassador turned and looked at Shalzed. “Who are you?” he asked.
“I don’t understand. Countries can only use force to defend themselves,” Shalzed began.
“I’m sorry, I’m just about to go live on Fox News,” Waltz replied, gesturing Shalzed and I to move along. A few steps away, a reporter was conferring with a cameraman.
“But didn’t the U.S. and Israel just violate the UN charter?” Shalzed persisted.
Waltz shook his head and sighed. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Iran has thousands of missiles and is attempting to develop nuclear weapons besides.”
“But how can you say it’s self-defense if they didn’t attack?” Shalzed asked.
“Almost ready,” the reporter called. “Do a sound check, please.”
Waltz nodded. “The Iranian government killed thousands of its own citizens in recent protests,” he said in a robot-like monotone. The reporter gave him a thumbs up. Then he continued in a normal voice, “Some say tens of thousands. We may never know the real number.”
“And that means you can bomb their nuclear facilities?” Shalzed asked.
“Iran’s leaders have been leading chants of death to America and death to Israel for decades,” I interjected. “They even put a clock in the center of Tehran counting down the days until Israel is destroyed.”
Shalzed looked shocked. “Well how can they do that? Didn’t the UN tell them to take it down?”
I laughed, and Waltz also chuckled. “No,” he said. “Evidently, there’s nothing against countdown clocks in the UN charter.”
The reporter walked over. “I’m sorry, we’re delayed just a couple of minutes,” she said. “They broke in with an update from Tel-Aviv.”
“What happened?” I asked, worried people may have been killed.
“Direct hit on a school. But it wasn’t occupied, no injuries.”
“You see, Iran doesn’t follow any international law,” Waltz said. “They shoot missiles at schools, they fire randomly at cities. Then we’re the ones that get criticized.”
“Can you say that when we’re live?” the reporter asked.
“Of course,” Waltz replied. “And I’ll also mention that right now they are carrying out aggression against Saudi Arabia and the Gulf States too. Then people make it out like the United States is the one that doesn’t follow the law.”
Shalzed crossed his hands against his chest. “I understand the government of Iran does bad things. But can that justify an invasion?”
The reporter looked at Waltz expectantly. I had a feeling she was interested to hear his reply, too.
“So should Israel wait until they have ten thousand missiles, many armed with nuclear warheads, and then it’s too late?” he asked.
“Israel can’t risk a nuclear armed Iran,” I added.
“Almost ready,” the cameraman called as he lifted a bulky tv camera onto his shoulder.
Waltz straightened his hair with his hand. “Bottom line,” he said. “Countries are entitled to defend themselves. Iran has been a threat in the past, and we have every reason to believe they will continue to be a threat in the future.”
“Say that on air,” the reporter said.
“But Iran wasn’t a threat right now,” Shalzed interjected. “And any country could potentially be a threat sometime in the future.”
A light on the camera turned on. “Five,” the cameraman said, then he started counting down.
The reporter stepped in front of us, right next to Waltz. As the light on the camera changed color she began. “I’m here at the United Nations with U.S. Ambassador Mike Waltz. Mr. Waltz, you just explained to the security council that the action against Iran is completely in keeping with international law. Give us a recap.”
As Waltz began speaking I was back in the black tunnel. I tried to feel around for any clues about what it was made of or how it operated, but before I found anything I was back in my apartment. My phone was ringing- it was my brother calling back.
“Everything alright?” I asked as I picked up.
“Yeah,” he said. “A missile got through the iron dome and hit a school. The building was destroyed, but no one was hurt.”
“Near you?” I asked.
“Just a few kilometers away. Thank God we’re fighting this war now, while Iran still doesn’t have nuclear weapons.”
I told him I was glad he was safe, then I shook my head. Once Iran got the bomb, it would be too late. But if every country struck before it was too late, war would also be endless.