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If you're a listener to this show, you already know that some of the most important conversations in Jewish life happen at the intersections where ideas meet lived experience, where history meets the present, and where identity gets negotiated in real time. That's why I want to recommend another podcast, Can We Talk from the Jewish Women's Archive? Each season, hosts Nahani Rouse, Jenn Richler, and Judith Rosenbaum sit down with writers, activists, and scholars to trace how gender shapes Jewish culture. Last season they explored Iranian Jewish identity, how Jewish women shaped Saturday Night Live, and how communities are healing in the wake of October 7th. And their new season just kicked off a deep dive into the Yiddish word, what it connotes and what the term reveals about Jewish language. If you liked our recent episode with Rachel Schachter on the Yiddish Renaissance, I think you'll really enjoy it. You can find can we talk@jwa.org canwetalk or wherever you get your podcasts. Hi everyone, welcome to Identity Crisis, a show from the Shalom Hartman Institute, creating better conversations about the essential issues facing Jewish life. I'm Yehuda Kertzer, recording on Friday, April 17, 2026. So I want to admit something at the outset of this episode that I'm sure many of you regular listeners already know, or at least some suspect. As an American Jew, I've never really gotten Europe, or at least European jewelry in the present. Maybe some of this is just good old classic ugly American ness, but I've not only grown up here and have steeped myself in American culture and values, but I also argue very regularly about the importance of the exceptional nature of the American Jewish experience. And in so doing I tend to see the American Jewish experience as something fundamentally different than the Old World Jewish experience. I would go so far as to say that European Jewry echoes to me more as diaspora in the classic sense, the new versions continuous with those of the past. America is the New World. Our experience of it is not quite diaspora, maybe not exactly homeland, but something different, something special. In contrast, I've always found much of Europe to feel kind of haunted. I was in high school, I traveled throughout Poland on the March of Living. I became mesmerized on our long bus rides by the dark forests, wondering which of them housed lost, invisible mass graves of Jews, and looking out the window at the little towns that now could no longer be called shtetls, but which once bred the Jews in Judaism that I wound up inheriting thousands of miles away. When I was in college, I spent time in Minsk and thereabouts teaching Judaism to Young post Soviet Jews who had been stripped of access to their cultural heritage. And I felt throughout that experience like a lost stranger in the very place, literally the exact place from which my great grandparents had come. The difference being that now I was bringing Judaism from the New World to the very place from which so much of it had originated. Another time in college, I visited my brother, who was spending the year in Romania working for the joint. I traveled with him across Romania throughout Hanukkah, bringing light and celebration to local communities. And let me say, if you ever doubt whether Jews can experience epigenetic trauma even if they are not themselves direct genetic heirs to the trauma itself, I recommend taking night trains across Eastern Europe and trying to sleep. A few years ago, Stephanie and I took our kids to Italy. We were standing in a lovely market in one of Rome's central squares when one of the kids looked down and noticed that we were standing on top of a marker that was in the paving stones on which it was written. This is the site where the Talmud was burned in 1553. Oops. Right beneath our feet. Much of Europe, Eastern, central, some of Western Europe, feels like a contradiction to me. A place where Judaism's narrative of continuity was largely forged. A place where the Judaism many of us know and take for granted was created, formulated, articulated and lived. It's also a set of lands that remain saturated with the blood of our ancestors. And I say none of this to demean or diminish the vibrancy of contemporary Jewish life in Europe. I've been following for years the great excitement, the work of some of the new jccs, the new Polin Museum that tells the story of over a thousand years of Jewish life in Poland. I've had many friends and colleagues working on building Jewish life and education in Europe. All I'm sharing today is a feeling, a sensibility born of my story as a Jew who came of age and the twin extraordinary stories of American Jewish and and Israeli Jewish at homeness which felt in stark contrast to and in the shadow of the great betrayal of at homeness that Europe committed against its Jews a few years ago. I was grateful to meet and make a new friend. Flora Kassen, our guest today, reached out to me several years ago for a chat. I actually went back and looked at my email to see when that was this morning. It was in early November 2023. At the time, Flora was a history professor at Washuan in St. Louis and struggling, if I can say so out loud, Flora. In the whirlwind aftermath of October 7th, the turmoil that quickly emerged on university campuses. Flora's personal life and professional expertise sits at the meeting point of the issues of this episode and even my introduction. She is Belgian and now American scholar of medieval and early modern Jewish history. And although many good scholars don't always like to admit it, a person for whom the personal, professional and political are intertwined, by the way, I think that makes for better scholars and certainly more compelling people. What does it mean really to be a European Jew who studies both the vibrancy and tragedy of European Jews and then begins to encounter the way that that history is starting to rhyme again in the present? Since that first conversation, Flora became affiliated with the Hartman Institute. Actually came to us briefly for a year as a stint as full time faculty member before moving over to a very senior position at Brandeis University. She has a new and beautiful book out now. It's called Stained Glass, A Reflective History of Antisemitism. I want to say it's a hard book to describe. It's a little bit memoir, some analysis of Europe and America in the moment. A history of European Jews, a history of Flora's own family. As per the title, it feels like a meditation that offers an opportunity for reflection. So, Flora, thanks for coming on the show today. Thanks for this book. Thanks for being on Identity Crisis.
