Home to one of India’s most important ports, the city of Cochin was also once home to a thriving Jewish community, of which but a handful of its members remain. Alyssa Pinsker writes:

In addition to the six remaining Pardesi Jews, there are reputedly 29 Malabar—once called “black”—Jews across the city and surrounding areas. In the 1950s . . . there were eight synagogues in all of Kerala, a region roughly a quarter of the size of Florida, serving 2,500 people. Now there is but one functioning synagogue, the Pardesi, which welcomes Jews of all castes. (The separation of Jews was parallel to, and based on, the Hindu caste system.)

[In lieu of rabbis], the community . . . is led by elders or ḥazanim (cantors) who come from Mumbai or Israel to oversee holidays or funerals. It is one that has enjoyed distinct customs: two bimahs [lecterns] at every synagogue, a tradition of public singing by women, donning special colors for each Jewish holiday, and a celebration of Simḥat Torah with grand lighting of towering candelabras—the decorations are called aalivelakku, named for a local ivy plant and are inspired by designs in Hindu temples and further embellished with stars of David. . . .

Those Jews who have not left Cochin for Israel, the U.S., or elsewhere are mostly old and infirm, and depend on friendly Muslim neighbors both for everyday assistance and for help preserving their community’s physical heritage:

So passionate is [Thaha Ibrahim, a local Muslim with close ties to a Jewish family] about the Jews, that in 2013, he and his friend Thoufeek Zakriya, twenty-six, produced Jews of Malabar, a documentary, and a complementary exhibition. . . . Like Ibrahim, [Zakriya is] a Muslim, a devout one. Yet at age sixteen he taught himself to read and write Hebrew. . . .

Hussein (who asked that his last name be withheld) . . . sells postcards near Sarah [Cohen’s] embroidery shop. For the past two years, he has also tended to the only operational Jewish cemetery in Cochin. There were a total of seven Jewish cemeteries; the other six are now mostly unrecognizable and overgrown. Hussein arrives each day around 6:00 in the morning . . . to prune the graveyard and assist the cemetery caretaker. He helps because the Jews asked him to. And because the Jews are his neighbors.

Yesterday I saw an unconfirmed report that the Biden administration has offered Israel a massive arms deal in exchange for a promise not to strike Iran’s nuclear facilities. Even if the report is incorrect, there is plenty of other evidence that the White House has been trying to dissuade Jerusalem from mounting such an attack. The thinking behind this pressure is hard to fathom, as there is little Israel could do that would better serve American interests in the Middle East than putting some distance between the ayatollahs and nuclear weapons. Aaron MacLean explains why this is so, in the context of a broader discussion of strategic priorities in the Middle East and elsewhere:

If the Iran issue were satisfactorily adjusted in the direction of the American interest, the question of Israel’s security would become more manageable overnight. If a network of American partners enjoyed security against state predation, the proactive suppression of militarily less serious threats like Islamic State would be more easily organized—and indeed, such partners would be less vulnerable to the manipulation of powers external to the region.

[The Biden administration’s] commitment to escalation avoidance has had the odd effect of making the security situation in the region look a great deal as it would if America had actually withdrawn [from the Middle East].

Alternatively, we could project competence by effectively backing our Middle East partners in their competitions against their enemies, who are also our enemies, by ensuring a favorable overall balance of power in the region by means of our partnership network, and by preventing Iran from achieving nuclear status—even if it courts escalation with Iran in the shorter run.