Nevins is co-publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
Recently at the invitation of a friend I went to dinner at a rabbi’s house to start Shabbat, the Jewish observance every week beginning at sunset on Friday evening and ending after dark on Saturday.
I am Jewish by birth but have not been to a temple for many years. I am not a religious Jew. While I have close ties to my heritage, I think of myself more as a humanist than a Jew.
I very much enjoyed the dinner at the rabbi’s house and reflected later on a statement he made in response to my comment about not being a religious Jew. He spoke of a concept within Judaism of no labels, and that labels are made for suits and should not be used to define us as Jews. He was referring to the concept that oftentimes Jews judge each other as to whether they are Reform, Conservative or Orthodox Jews, or may judge others on how often they go to synagogue as a measurement of whether they are “real” Jews. He went on to explain that regardless of who we are and the extent of our Jewish observance, and that while on the surface we might look or be very different from each other, underneath we’re all Jews and all the same.
I was struck by his comment because a similar concept of no labels, but applied in a very different fashion, is the foundation of a principle that drove me to devote my time and energies to unite Americans as a people. I do this as the chairman of the board and cofounder of The Bridge Alliance, a coalition of organizations with over 100 members working together to strengthen our democracy through political reforms and also to heal the divides that separate us as a society.
My life changed about 11 years ago when I heard the term no labels but used not in terms of religion but in a secular manner. I became very involved with an organization called No Labels, a bi-partisan organization that at the time demanded that American leaders and citizens alike declare their freedom from the anger and divisiveness that are ruining our politics and most importantly our country. They believe we must recommit to the fundamental beliefs that have historically united Americans and provide a common understanding of who we are and where we hope to go and to do so we must remove the political label we attached to each other.
And so I pondered how the Jewish perspective on no labels might apply, if at all, with the concept of no labels in terms of the America we live in.
How can Jews, Christians, Muslims and all religions, as well as Asians, Blacks, Hispanics, Native Americans and Whites honor and cherish their heritage and espouse the principles that bind them together while at the same time honoring and respecting the strong beliefs of others? Do terms like Chosen People used by Jews, or Black Power used by African Americans conflict with the concept of pluralism in America? I think not.
I believe that for our nation to fulfill its motto of E Pluribus Unum: Out of many, we are one, we must embrace our diversity — meaning diversity with regard to race/ethnicity, sex/gender, social identity, religion, ideology and age.
And I believe we can do so while at the same time honoring our own heritage. The two are not mutually exclusive and the path is not easy.
The mere discussion of justice, equity, diversity, and inclusion that should unite us instead more often divides us into our respective clans as tribalism grows in America. While I believe that our nation will be stronger if diversity becomes our operating system, and I believe that legislation can play some useful role, ultimately it is our hearts and minds that must lead us to the challenges that the diverse population of America presents to us.
How wonderful would it be if the cultural tradition of Shabbat, that I experienced recently, could be shared with others, and they shared their traditions with me. Sharing our respective traditions through storytelling, music, song, dance can help bridge the divide that separates us, and will start the healing process as we start to build connections and friendships with those different from us.
I researched a Jewish prayer mentioned at dinner, Shema Yisrael, a term that I had not heard for many years. Shema Yisrael prayer expresses belief in the singularity of God. Professor of classical rabbinic literature Reuven Kimelmansaid the Shema summons Jews to feel, "an all-consuming love of God."
"It's a love that is unreserved, all-demanding, at all times, in all places and in all circumstances," he said. "Nothing is excluded. Thoughts are to be focused, words are to be spoken, and deeds are to be done."
My dream is to extend Shema Yisrael to all of us. Let us remove all the labels between all of us and the deeds that are done by We the People. Only then will we be able to explore completely and freely, and who knows, we might embrace and even come to observe new traditions that become blended into our own values and traditions.
A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.