At this time of year, observant Jews are arranging, usually via their rabbis, to sell their hametz (leavened and fermented grains) to non-Jews, in order avoid violating the biblical prohibition on owning such products during Passover. Nathan Oman, a Mormon legal scholar, comments on his experience of being the designated purchaser:

In a lovely spring garden in suburban Philadelphia, I handed cash and a handkerchief to my friend’s rabbi. It was the first time that I, an observant Latter-day Saint (Mormon), had ever purchased whiskey. (Latter-day Saints are prohibited from consuming alcohol, although they are permitted to own it.) For the next two weeks, however, I would own a large store of booze, along with a number of half-used boxes of breakfast cereal, and a lease on a very nice apartment in Jerusalem. . . . At the conclusion of the holiday, I could—if I so chose—sell the whiskey back to its original owners.

Of course, the whiskey and cereal boxes remained in the homes of the sellers, and Oman didn’t sample any of the products he purchased. But, in his mind, the fact that the sale has many hallmarks of a legal fiction makes it all the more significant:

In my mind, it is the double-mindedness of the legal fiction that is brilliant. Sitting in the suburban garden in Philadelphia, it was impossible not to feel the authority of Jewish law. Indeed, several members of the synagogue were there to witness the transaction with their children for precisely that reason. The forms and signatures literally had no other purpose than to comply with the demands laid down in Exodus. The dynamics of equity and legislation that tend to erase the very traditions from which they spring were wholly absent from the transaction. If anything, the very particularity of the legal formalities mitigated against the Christian danger of dissolving religion into spirituality.

Before exploding electronics in Lebanon seized the attention of the Israeli public, debate there had focused on the Philadelphi Corridor—the strip of land between Gaza and Egypt—and whether the IDF can afford to withdraw from it. Egypt has opposed Israeli control of the corridor, which is crucial to Hamas’s supply lines, and Egyptian objections likely prevented Israel from seizing it earlier in the war. Yet, argues Mariam Wahba, Egypt in the long run only stands to lose by letting Hamas use the corridor, and has proved incapable of effectively sealing it off:

Ultimately, this moment presents an opportunity for the United States to hold Egypt’s feet to the fire.

To press Cairo, the United States should consider conditioning future aid on Cairo’s willingness to cooperate. This should include a demand for greater transparency and independent oversight to verify Egyptian claims about the tunnels. Congress ought to hold hearings to understand better Egypt’s role and its compliance as a U.S. ally. Despite Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s nine trips to the Middle East since the start of the war, there has been little clarity on how Egypt intends to fulfill its role as a mediator.

By refusing to acknowledge Israel’s legitimate security concerns, Egypt is undermining its own interests, prolonging the war in Gaza, and further destabilizing its relationship with Jerusalem. It is time for Egyptian leaders either to admit their inability to secure the border and seek help from Israel and America, or to risk being perceived as enablers of Hamas and its terrorist campaign.