A Jewish Trump would be a right faribel

I went cold at the thought. Imagine a Jewish president of the United States trying to work out who to invite to the inauguration, who to place on stage for the event, and which rabbi to honour with the prayer?

It would be a disaster. The event would last a minimum of four days, with speeches accounting for 63% of the time, complaining and advice 17%, and about 20% spent begging the crowd to switch their cellphones off. No venue would be large enough, and the “marathon” would unquestionably conclude with no-one speaking to him or to the family for the next two generations. And that’s even before getting started on the choice of caterer, the standard of kashrut, the menu, and the décor.

Donald Trump is blessed not to be Jewish. He might think he has challenges ahead with a belligerent Iran and a combative Putin, but that’s only because he has never had a face off against the head of the ladies guild in search of her missing cheesecake. He might think that a China trade war is complex and adversarial, but that’s only because he hasn’t tried to collect shul fees and donations ahead of the high holy days. He might naively believe that the renaming of the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America is a formidable undertaking, but it hardly registers when compared to the renaming of the Abe and Fanny Goldschmid Recreation Centre to the new Storm and Stacey Abel Padel Facility, following a redesign and rebuild – paid for by Storm’s late father, Solly Abelman, of blessed memory.

Trump might be gifted with a Jewish daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren, but he clearly doesn’t have a Jewish mother-in-law. If he did, she would have overseen seating and then delivered the inauguration address herself. She also would have quite quickly provided a pashmina to Lauren Sánchez to cover herself, because this wasn’t going to be that kind of inauguration. And because some men in the room can’t be trusted to avert their eyes.

Much has been said about the group of people assembled behind Trump at his inauguration. Much has been contemplated about the power of the leaders in technology, and what this means to freedom of expression, media, and the focus on the future of innovation.

Significant things were said about Melania Trump’s hat, her obstructed eyes, and the fact that Trump needed to plan a strategic path to plant a peck, following his address.

What hasn’t been sufficiently discussed is the delicate choreography that must have unfolded behind the scenes to decide who earned a spot on that prestigious stage – and, perhaps more tellingly, who didn’t. Every invitation or omission probably came with a ripple effect of grievance, alliance, and long-standing grudge, each with a lifespan longer than most presidencies.

All this being said, one takeaway from the inauguration is crystal clear: America isn’t ready for a Jewish president anytime soon, or at least not until his wife, mother-in-law, and a coalition of rabbis agree on the seating chart, the menu, and a suitably neutral events co-ordinator. And even then, it’s anyone’s guess whether the event would make it past the first speech without a mutiny over the kugel.