TRUMP’S GAZA, AND ECHOES FROM HISTORY

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Donald Trump has never been one to think small. Whether it’s real estate, presidential campaigns, or diplomatic deals, he swings for the fences—never mind if there’s no stadium, no scoreboard, and half the world is telling him he’s out before he’s even up to bat.

This week, facing the press in the East Room of the White House alongside Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, Trump unveiled what might be his most audacious foreign policy brainstorm yet: the United States should take ownership of Gaza. Not manage, not advise, not even bankroll—straight-out own it.

In true Trumpian fashion, he envisions a Gaza transformed from a bombed-out wasteland into a shimmering economic paradise — “the Riviera of the Middle East.” A Middle Eastern Monaco, minus the gambling. A Dubai-on-the-Med.

And before anyone could even absorb the sheer magnitude of what he was proposing, Trump kept rolling: 1.8 million Palestinians could be relocated—details to be worked out later. The U.S. would “level” Gaza, clear the unexploded ordnance, and oversee a massive 10-15-year international redevelopment project.

If that sounds ambitious, unexpected, and slightly surreal, don’t worry—Trump assured everyone that it’s definitely an idea worth exploring. And just to drive the point home, he announced that he’d personally visit Israel and Gaza to get the ball rolling.

Netanyahu smiled sheepishly, looking bemused and a little shocked as he carefully navigated Trump’s latest foreign policy bombshell. “I think it’s something that could change history,” he offered tactfully, while reporters shouted questions and cameras snapped away furiously.

Was this classic Trump hyperbole or the first step toward an unprecedented geopolitical shakeup? With Trump, you can love it, hate it, or just shake your head in disbelief—but you definitely can’t ignore it.

But as the world predictably yells “ethnic cleansing” and dismisses Trump’s idea as delusional, it’s worth remembering Gaza’s extensive Jewish roots—and that, if anything, it’s the Jews who have been ethnically cleansed from Gaza.

Because let’s face it, the notion of Jews having a stake in Gaza isn’t some modern Zionist invention—it’s a historical reality stretching back over 3,000 years. Long before Gaza became a terrorist stronghold run by radical Islamist murderers and rapists, this strip of land was part of the biblical Land of Israel, allotted to the tribe of Judah (Joshua 15:47). Samson had his fateful showdown in Gaza (Judges 16:23-30), collapsing the Philistine temple and everyone inside it, in his final act of defiance.

Fast forward to the Second Temple period, and Gaza remained vital to Jewish life. After the Hasmoneans liberated Judea from Greek rule, they conquered Gaza in 96 BCE, incorporating it into the Jewish kingdom.

Even under Roman rule, Gaza’s Jewish community thrived. Jewish merchants played a key role in the city’s bustling market—as referenced in the Talmud (Avodah Zarah 11b).

During the Byzantine period, the Jewish presence in Gaza was so significant that the local community boasted a magnificent synagogue rediscovered near the ancient port in 1965. Its mosaic floor depicted King David playing a harp—a Jewish-themed biblical tribute quite literally set in stone.

And the Jewish connection didn’t end there. In medieval times, Jewish travelers, scholars, and kabbalists lived and taught in Gaza. Under Ottoman rule, Jews continued to reside in the city, engaging in commerce and religious scholarship.

The famed preacher and kabbalist, Rabbi Israel Najara, served as Gaza’s chief rabbi in the early 1600s. Curiously, Gaza’s most famous Jewish son during that period was the notorious Nathan of Gaza (“Natan Azzati”), a 17th-century mystic who became the chief promoter and “prophet” of the false messiah Shabbetai Tzvi. And even in the modern era, a small Jewish community remained in Gaza—until the 1929 Arab riots forced them to flee.

So there you have it. Those are the facts. Gaza was Jewish long before it became a Hamas terror base. The real historical anomaly isn’t the thought of Jews returning and Arabs leaving—it’s the insistence that Gaza must remain forever Judenrein.

As the bible recalls, Gaza’s first great collapse came at the hands of Samson. Blinded, shackled, and dragged into the Philistine temple, he was meant to be their trophy—proof that Israel’s strength had been broken.

But in his final act, Samson grasped the pillars, pushed with all his might, and brought the entire structure down. Thousands were crushed, including the Philistine rulers, marking the beginning of the end for Philistine dominance in Gaza.

The prophets of Israel saw this as a pattern. Amos (1:6-7), Zephaniah (2:4-7), and Zechariah (9:5-7) all foretold Gaza’s destruction and desolation due to its cruelty toward Israel. And time proved them right—Gaza fell again and again, each time brought low by its own unbridled violence against the Jewish people.

And now, in our own time, we are watching that prophecy unfold before our eyes yet again. Hamas has led Gaza into ruin and utter collapse, just as the Philistines did before them. The question is: what do we do with this moment?

When the Jewish people left Egypt in the Exodus story, God deliberately steered them away from Gaza (Ex. 13:17): “For God said, lest the people reconsider when they see war and return to Egypt.” But although the Israelites avoided the confrontation then, it only led to more brutal battles later on.

History teaches us that avoiding evil does not make it disappear—it only delays the inevitable. Thankfully, the Philistines met their end, as the prophets predicted. Today, in a truly historic moment, we have a rare opportunity to finally reshape Gaza’s future for the good—and end Hamas once and for all—but only if we recognize that history rewards those who seize the moment, not those who run from it.

And maybe that’s President Trump’s point. His unorthodox approach may need some reframing, but he is at least forcing a conversation that most world leaders and opinion formers would rather avoid.

The question isn’t whether Trump’s idea is radical—the real question is whether the world is finally ready to confront Gaza’s reality instead of endlessly postponing it. Because the past suggests one thing: when Gaza collapses under the weight of its own destruction, history doesn’t end—it resets. The only thing we should consider is whether we will shape what comes next, or let Gaza slip back into the hands of those who would destroy it again.