I Kinda Feel Like Jews Might Not Be Invited to Mars
By Michael Kelman Portney
Let’s talk about Mars—not the chocolate bar or the Roman god, but the red planet. Elon Musk has promised us colonies, adventures, and redemption. But as I sit here thinking about it, I’m starting to feel like the Jews might not be getting an invite to this interplanetary soiree. Call it a gut feeling, call it truthiness, call it Jewdar—but I can’t shake the sense that if there are to be Jews In Space, the probability is high that we will be space’s first slaves. Jews, as always, are to remain highly suspicious—shifty, even.
The Musk of It All
First, let’s address the elephant in the SpaceX hangar: Elon Musk. The guy is essentially the self-declared mayor of Mars. He’s also, let’s say, problematic. Whether it’s his erratic public statements, platform antics, or increasingly alienating behavior, Musk has turned himself into a polarizing figure. And for Jewish people, some of his actions and tweets have hit a little too close to home.
It’s not exactly a leap to wonder if someone whose social media posts occasionally dip into eyebrow-raising territory is the best candidate to champion an inclusive new civilization on Mars. Sure, the guy’s got rockets, but does he have menchlichkeit?
The Mars Colony Vibe Check
Let’s say, hypothetically, that we get to Mars. Who’s there? If the marketing is any indication, it’s mostly billionaires, tech bros, and people who think the greatest hardship in life is a poor Wi-Fi signal. That’s not exactly the crowd you want to rely on for cultural nuance.
Jews have always been good at thriving in complex, interconnected societies—creating, building, problem-solving. But a tech utopia run by Silicon Valley types doesn’t exactly scream shtetl hospitality. I’m not saying it’s a foregone conclusion, but I can already hear someone at the Martian town hall saying, “Do we really need bagels on Mars? Can’t we just eat nutrient cubes like everyone else?”
Cultural Red Flags in Space
There’s also the question of tradition. Jewish culture thrives on the rhythm of shared experiences—Shabbat dinners, high holidays, community debates that last longer than the Torah itself. How does that translate to Mars, a place with no sunsets, no earthly cycles, no clear sense of time?
Are we supposed to light Shabbat candles while staring at a red rock sky? Are we calculating Martian halachic hours based on Musk Standard Time? And what happens when someone suggests replacing gefilte fish with lab-grown algae protein?
These are not small questions. Culture isn’t something you can pack in a suitcase. It’s something you live, breathe, and share. And I’m not sure a startup-turned-space-colony is ready for the complexity of maintaining 5,000 years of tradition while also figuring out how to farm potatoes in Martian soil.
A Deeper Doubt
But let’s get real: this isn’t just about bagels and Shabbat. It’s about history. Jewish people have always been the ones asking hard questions, challenging authority, and refusing to go along with things that don’t feel right. That’s not exactly the vibe Musk’s Mars seems to be cultivating.
Mars, as it’s being pitched, isn’t a democracy. It’s not a community. It’s a tech-fueled experiment in survival, run by people who seem more interested in controlling the narrative than opening it up for discussion. If history has taught us anything, it’s that Jews don’t do well in systems that demand silence and conformity.
So, Are We Invited?
The truth is, I don’t know. Maybe Mars really will be the melting pot of the galaxy, and I’ll be proven wrong when a Chabad house opens next to the algae farm. Or maybe it’ll be another chapter in a long history of exclusion, a place where the cultural complexities of being Jewish are seen as inconvenient for the streamlined, Musk-approved Martian way of life.
Either way, I’m keeping my feet firmly planted on Earth for now. Because as flawed as this planet is, it’s still the only one where I know for sure that a bagel with lox tastes like home.
And if Mars isn’t ready for that kind of realness, maybe it’s not ready for us.
