The Selective Silence of Angela Buchdahl

A rabbi who finds her voice for book tours but loses it when Jews are under threat in New York City.

Angela Buchdahl’s Rosh Hashanah sermon, “The Cries of Isaac and Ishmael,” was supposed to comfort her congregation. Instead, it exposed something uncomfortable about her — and about a certain kind of Jewish leadership that has forgotten what moral courage looks like.

Standing on the most famous bimah in America, before one of the wealthiest and most influential congregations in the Jewish world, Buchdahl opened with a stunning confession: “I have never been so afraid to talk about Israel.” Think about that. The rabbi of Central Synagogue — protected, powerful, admired — says she’s afraid. Not afraid of Hamas. Not afraid of antisemitism. Afraid of her own people. Afraid of being disliked. Afraid of saying something that might upset the well-heeled crowd sitting in front of her.

That is not humility. That is moral cowardice.

What followed was a sermon without a spine. She declared her “unconditional love” for Israel, then immediately balanced it with heartbreak for Gaza. She condemned Hamas, but just as quickly turned to Israel’s supposed mistakes. She spoke about empathy “for both sides,” as though the brutal murder of Jews on October 7 and the difficult, tragic aftermath of a defensive war were morally comparable. It was a sermon designed to offend no one — which is another way of saying it meant nothing.

Israel isn’t perfect. The IDF isn’t perfect. No army or country ever is. That’s not the test. The test is intent, restraint, and accountability. Israel passes that test every single day. It warns civilians before striking, risks its soldiers to avoid killing innocents, and investigates its own failures. Hamas fails it deliberately. It hides behind civilians. It murders for sport. It films itself doing it.

Any rabbi who can’t see the difference between the two sides — between a nation defending itself and a terrorist army that celebrates death — has lost her moral compass.

But Buchdahl’s failure didn’t end with her sermon. It continued when she refused to say a word about Zohran Mamdani, the New York State Assemblyman now running for mayor. Mamdani has called Israel a “genocidal apartheid state.” He’s blamed the massacre of October 7 on “occupation.” And he’s bragged that if he becomes mayor, he’ll have Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu arrested if he visits New York.

That’s not criticism of policy. That’s antisemitism dressed up as politics.

And what did Angela Buchdahl — perhaps the most famous rabbi in New York City — say in response? Nothing. No sermon. No statement. No post. Not even a line in a newsletter. I spent a full day searching. Nothing.

When the silence became too loud to ignore, she finally sent a message to her congregation explaining that she couldn’t “endorse or oppose political candidates.” Central Synagogue, she said, has a policy. It was a neat little escape hatch — the kind bureaucrats use when they don’t want to take a stand. Policies are for administrators. Rabbis are supposed to lead.

Let’s be honest about what that means. A man running for mayor threatens to arrest the leader of the world’s only Jewish state, and the rabbi of Central Synagogue hides behind a paragraph of legalese. That’s not leadership. That’s cowardice hiding behind paperwork.

And here’s what makes it worse: Angela Buchdahl is not shy when the topic is Angela Buchdahl. She has been everywhere these past few months — on television, on podcasts, on social media — promoting her newly published book and telling her personal story. She has found plenty of time to talk about spirituality, identity, and her “modern” approach to faith. She’s had no problem lecturing traditional Jews about what’s outdated or exclusionary. But when Jews are being slandered in her own city, she can’t find her voice.

It’s remarkable, really. She will fill a studio to sell a book but won’t speak out to defend her people. She will go on national television to talk about herself, but not to confront antisemitism on her doorstep.

Israel doesn’t ask for perfection. It asks for fairness. The Jewish people don’t expect flawless leaders. They expect ones with a moral compass. Leaders who can tell the difference between compassion and complicity, between loving the stranger and abandoning their own.

Angela Buchdahl failed that test. She failed it in her sermon, when she replaced moral clarity with applause lines. She failed it in her silence, when she refused to call out Zohran Mamdani. And she failed it again when she hid behind synagogue policy instead of defending her community.

Empathy is not enough. Empathy doesn’t stop rockets. It doesn’t rescue hostages. It doesn’t protect a single Jewish child walking home from Hebrew school.

Moral courage is not optional for a Jewish leader. It is the job. And if a rabbi cannot find her voice when Jews are threatened — in Gaza, on college campuses, or right here in New York — then she does not deserve the pulpit she occupies.

Angela Buchdahl chose comfort over courage. The Jewish people must do the opposite.