CLIMATE CHANGE
Phoenix mayor talks climate goals
Phoenix mayor talks climate goals
Five-year-old Levi Miller has been asking to go to the Children’s Museum of Phoenix for months.
“There are a lot of things he has been asking to do over the last year and a half that we just keep saying no to,” said his mom, Doran Arik Miller. But soon, she and her husband will get to say yes.
Levi received his first dose of Pfizer’s COVID-19 vaccine on Saturday, Nov. 13.
“We’ve explained to him that he’s got to get this dose, and then we have to wait three weeks and get his second shot. And then he has to wait a couple weeks and he’ll be good to go,” Doran said. The first stop will be his choice — the aquarium, the children’s museum, the science center — but Doran bets he’ll choose the children’s museum.
Doran, who lives in Phoenix, is one of many local Jewish parents who didn’t think twice about getting their kids vaccinated against COVID once the vaccine became available to children five and up.
According to a June survey by the Public Religion Research Institute and Interfaith Youth Core, Jewish Americans are most likely to be vaccine accepters (85%) among religious groups.
Dr. Rochelle Walensky, director for U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, cleared the way for immediate vaccination for kids in the 5-11 age group on the evening of Tuesday, Nov. 2.
Lani Harrison was up most of that Tuesday night trying to get her 8-year-old daughter and her 7-year old-son scheduled for an appointment. She lives in Scottsdale but found appointments
Adina Anhalt didn’t hesitate to offer her help when she learned of an opportunity to support Afghan refugees resettling in Arizona.
“I can not even begin to imagine what these refugees have been through,” Anhalt said. “As a Jew, as a mother, as a human being — I couldn’t not help.”
She is one of many in the Greater Phoenix Jewish community who have donated financial support or items to Valley Beit Midrash’s Welcome Tent initiative, which was created to fill in the “gaps” left by the large service agencies for Afghan refugees, most of whom are Muslim.
“There have been many times throughout history when Jews were forced out of their homes and helped by members of other faiths and communities,” she said. “These Muslim refugees are no different than us and we should help any way we can.”
Anhalt and her family donated clothing and household items. Her 10-year-old daughter, Abbie, chose to donate a journal and a wallet. “She thought after all they have been through, someone might want to write down their feelings and someone may have left quickly and had to leave their wallet behind,” Anhalt said. “I tried to think about what parents might need to cook for their families and set up a home.”
VBM launched the initiative through Arizona Jews for Justice, its social justice arm, in September. Rabbi Dr. Shmuly Yanklowitz, president and dean of VBM, said the organization has since received about 400 pieces of children’s clothing, over 100 strollers and car seats and over 100 baby food items.
According to the Arizona Department of Economic Security, 2,015 Afghan evacuees have been approved to resettle in Arizona by the end of next March.
Yanklowitz said it’s been uplifting to see so many different members of the Jewish community show support.
“All types of strangers from the broader Jewish community have been dropping things off,” he said. “We’re at the point where we’re even looking into renting storage, because there’s so many people reaching out with supplies.”
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the next day at a pediatrician’s office in Ahwatukee. It’s a relief having them on the road to full vaccination, she said.
Before COVID, she and her husband would bring the kids along to errands, evening gas station runs and little outings here and there. They — and the kids — are excited to do that again.
Most of all, Harrison is excited to see her family. Her parents live in the Boston area and her 102-year-old grandmother lives in Rhode Island. “We haven’t been there to see them since January 2020,” she said. Now that two of her kids are vaccinated, she’s booked flights to visit in December. Her youngest will wear a mask and they’ll still try to keep visits with her grandmother outdoors, but it will be nice to see everybody again, she said.
Yael Berko lives in Ahwatukee and has three kids, ages 14, 13 and 11. They can track the pandemic’s impact in the way their b’nai mitzvah were impacted. In April 2020, her oldest son had a virtual
bar mitzvah. In August, her middle son had a hybrid bar mitzvah. “We were able to have a bit of a party that was still mostly outdoors, because a lot of the friends were not vaccinated,” she said. She hopes by the time her youngest has her bat mitzvah it will be a “regular” one.
Berko said it’s been “nice to at least have some” kids vaccinated, but it’s still been nerve-wracking to have her 11-yearold unprotected, she said. “We always worry about the one who’s not, as well as all her friends.”
She took her daughter, Arielle, to get vaccinated on Friday, Nov. 5.
“It was a priority for me and she was game for it,” Berko said. “Despite being petrified of vaccines last year, she’s been waiting for this one. She’s been looking forward to it.”
Arielle has a birthday party coming up, and she is “constantly being exposed” at school as well as the gym, Berko said.
“It’s a nice opportunity to protect grandma, and also just make sure she doesn’t ruin her gymnastic season by missing weeks of practice if she does get ill, or is exposed to ill teammates.”
Once she is fully vaccinated, Arielle is excited to go to Disneyland — a trip promised by her mom’s cousin for her birthday two years ago that didn’t happen because of the pandemic.
Karolyn Benger, who lives in Phoenix, is also looking forward to traveling now that both of her sons are en route to full vaccination. Her 13-year-old son is already vaccinated, and her 11-year-old son will be soon. He got his first dose on Veteran’s Day.
“I’ve jokingly said that once he’s fully vaccinated, I’ll show up at the airport with a credit card and be like, ‘I don’t care what flight, I don’t care how much, just put us all somewhere,’” Benger said.
Arizona’s only Shomer Shabbat/ Shomer Kashrut Boy Scout pack is publicly
supporting the COVID-19 vaccine for kids. Each of the pack’s nine active members, ages 5-12, have either already received their first dose or are scheduled to do so.
Seth Rosenberg, cubmaster of the Family Cub Pack 210 of Phoenix, which is chartered by the Jewish War Veterans of Scottsdale, said it started out of convenience. One family happened to be vaccinating their sons on their way to a scout event on Sunday, Nov. 7, and took photos of the uniformed scouts getting their shots.
When other families in the troop saw the photos, they decided to create a message to combat vaccine hesitancy.
The families moved up their appointments so the kids would be able to talk about their experience with their peers at school. All of the cub scouts attend Jewish day schools.
“We know that there’s a number of families in Jewish schools who are vaccine hesitant,” Rosenberg said. “We’re hoping to send a message that this really is a duty to country and to help get us past the situation that we’re in now (with the pandemic).”
Peter Gordon, head of school at Pardes Jewish Day School, serving students from kindergarten through eighth grade, said, “It is wonderful that now each of our families has the opportunity to make a decision about getting their children vaccinated.” The school recommended that families speak with their child’s pediatrician as part of their decision-making process, and shared information about vaccination events for families who wish to have their children vaccinated.
Leaders at Torah Day School of Phoenix, Dessert Jewish Academy, Cheder Lubavitch Arizona and Phoenix Hebrew Academy have not responded to a request for comment.
Jessica Greenberg, who lives in Scottsdale, is excited for all the parents who are now experiencing relief. But that is still months away for her.
“I’m very jealous of all the people that get to get their kid vaccinated now that are five and up,” she said. “But I am very excited, that means our group is next.”
Greenberg has a 3-year-old daughter and has done her best to keep her as protected as possible from contracting the virus. She’s not in preschool and she doesn’t get any play dates.
“I know I have more anxiety than the average person but it’s definitely impacted our social lives,” she said. “I don’t know the last time we went to a restaurant.”
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Welcome Tent, and a little over $1,000 in donations have since come in on top of that, Yanklowitz said.
Iris Fox and her husband, Michael, decided to donate to Afghan refugees when they read about the turmoil and saw disturbing footage on the news in the wake of the U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan.
But Michael wasn’t keen on donating to an organization that would keep a significant amount of donated funds for administrative costs, and wanted to be sure most, if not all, proceeds would go directly to the people who needed it.
Iris saw a Facebook post by Yanklowitz soliciting items to help Afghan refugees and knew a financial contribution would end up in the right place.
They brought the idea of raising money for Welcome Tent to a group they are part of, which includes other Temple Chai members, all of whom regularly give to specific causes agreed upon by the group.
The 14 of them donated a combined $350.
“For most of us in the group, our family were immigrants,” Iris said. “It’s just something that we feel is a very Jewish imperative: welcoming the strangers.”
Judy Gardenswartz and her husband, David Efron, donated a “fairly significant” amount to VBM, and they are gearing up to offer more support for Welcome Tent.
Gardenswartz said she is glad to support the Afghan refugees, especially if they are Muslim.
“These are human beings,” she said. “The more we understand each other, the less likely there is to be conflict.”
Yanklowitz said he would be helping refugees no matter where they come from, but “there’s a special element here.” It stems from the Jewish community showing up to support Afghan refugees.
He’s been working to cultivate dialogue and trust between Muslim and Jewish groups for many years, he said, and he intends to highlight the Jewish community’s efforts to support Muslim refugees once immediate needs are met.
“Right now, stage one of this crisis really is bare necessities,” Yanklowitz said. Refugees need a place to live, they need food, furniture, household items. Then, they’re going to need job training, help finding jobs, help with schools, English classes — all the things for “basic survival in America,” he said, noting he is seeking volunteers for service work — like teaching English or providing childcare. After that, VBM can work on deeper relationship building.
“Islamophobia and antisemitism are often intertwined,” he said. “We’re in this together.”
Yanklowitz said social workers from Lutheran Social Services and the International Rescue Committee visit the VBM office to pick up donated items almost every day to distribute.
Even before the U.S. completed its withdrawal from Afghanistan on Aug. 30, VBM began organizing to help the anticipated resettlement of Afghan refugees in Greater Phoenix.
“We decided we needed a whole coalition,”
Yanklowitz said. He reached out to a variety of local rabbis and pastors, many of whom have been meeting regularly to better understand the needs of the refugees and how to work better with local organizations tasked with resettling refugees.
Rev. Rachel Gilmore, pastor at Central United Methodist Church, was happy to be invited to participate in the interfaith initiative and takes part in those coalition meetings. Gilmore is the church’s missional consultant. She’s been working with other faith leaders to coordinate the transportation of goods. The church has an empty education building, which is now used to store donated goods until they are ready to go to their “forever home,” she said.
“There are strangers in our midst who are trying to make this community their home and it’s our job to welcome them with radical hospitality,” Gilmore said. “I know how important it is to feel welcomed, invited and supported when I’m new in an area.”
Gilmore said being able to collaborate with other faith leaders has also been a “gift” in a time of great polarization.
“It’s a reminder that we’re all in this together, and we’re called to serve and to love each other and to move towards a place of understanding, mutuality, respect and friendship,” she said.
The fact that a Jewish organization is leading the interfaith effort to support refugees who happen to be predominantly Muslim is a “beautiful thing,” she said, adding it is a refreshing reminder to the local community, and even the country, that people don’t need to feel threatened or judgemental when there are people who don’t always share the same beliefs coming into the community.
“I love that the Jewish community is modeling that for the rest of the Phoenix area, and hopefully the U.S.,” she said.
Rabbi John A. Linder of Temple Solel was happy to be invited to participate in the coalition.
He said Solel is considering sponsoring an Afghan refugee family. The congregation co-sponsored a Syrian family four years ago with Lutheran Social Services of the Southwest and it was “one of the most meaningful things we have done.” The congregation welcomed the family to America by “literally being the first faces they see when they arrive,” furnishing the apartment that has been arranged through LSS-SW, filling the refrigerator and following the lead of the LSS-SW case worker assigned to the family to identify other ways to support them.
“The goal, of course, is to help them acclimate to a new country and culture, get the children in schools, help find work, sustainable living and be their friends,” he said. Linder is in the process of reaching out to Solel families to see who wants to participate in co-sponsoring an Afghan family. Nothing has been finalized.
“Given that most (not all) of the Afghan refugees are Muslim, it surely strengthens our bond as Jew and Muslims,” Linder said. “Yet, it’s more about the common bonds all of our religious faiths share; it’s an opportunity to recognize our interdependence, to strengthen us as a community. The whole is greater than the sum of our parts.” JN
When the family travels home for a winter visit, Steve is thrown together with all his dysfunctional kin in a riotous seasonal celebration. We attend a family dinner at Grandma’s where, if you’re under 55 you still sit at the children’s table, and 35 over-fed people share one toilet! From the creator of My Mother’s Italian My Father’s Jewish & I’m In Therapy, we bring you a new show for the winter season.
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Phoenix Mayor Kate Gallego attended the United Nations Climate Conference in Glasgow, Scotland earlier this month.
Gallego, who is Jewish, has multiple leadership positions with national and global climate initiatives.
“We have a faith that emphasizes that you’re judged by how you take care of those who are most vulnerable,” she told Jewish News. “Unfortunately, climate change disproportionately impacts those who have the least, and so I hope it is both an act of responsible leadership as well as faith to invest in a more sustainable future.”
Gallego is co-chair of Climate Mayors, a bipartisan network of more than 470 U.S. mayors who have committed to emission reductions and upholding the Paris Agreement through climate action and policy.
She is also the North American vice chair of the C40 Steering Committee, which provides direction for the 97 global cities committed to addressing the climate crisis.
During the climate conference, the group announced it has secured a commitment by 1,049 cities, including Phoenix, to attain net zero carbon emissions by 2050 and cut carbon emissions in half by 2030.
“Cities are going to be part of the solution,”
Gallego said. “We are the ones who are designing the transportation systems, how buildings get built, and we can lead the way on reducing greenhouse gas emissions.”
On Wednesday, Nov. 3, Gallego was named the public sector co-chair of the 50 Liter Home Coalition, a group of private, public and civic leaders working to address water security. The coalition’s name references reducing daily water use per person to 50 liters, or about 13 gallons.
According to the Arizona Department of Water Resources, each Arizona resident uses about 146 gallons on average per day.
Up to 70% of that water is used outdoors for watering plants, filling swimming pools, washing cars or other uses, according to the department’s website.
“We’ll look at how we can reduce at-home water use with innovative products,” Gallego said, noting she hopes some of that innovation will happen in Phoenix.
During her time in Glasgow, she met with European companies interested in establishing or expanding their corporate presence in the U.S.
“The more we can attract innovative businesses that will help people go to the next level, the better,” she said.
From Glasgow, Gallego went to London to meet with more businesses.
She concluded her travels feeling inspired, she said. Phoenix voters have said they’d like to live in the most sustainable desert city, giving Gallego “a very ambitious agenda but one that we’re capable of.” She said she left with
reducing surface temperatures by up to 12 degrees Fahrenheit.
“We have done it in every part of our city,” Gallego said. “We called it a pilot and have now scratched out the word ‘pilot.’ It is a success and one we want to continue to implement.”
The city is the first in the country to launch a publicly-funded Office of Heat Response and Mitigation, tasked with seeking solutions while monitoring other departments’ activities to ensure a coordinated approach.
And, the city plans to develop 100 Cool Corridors by 2013 that will include native and desert-adapted trees, and will use data to identify the greatest need with a focus on low-income and heat-vulnerable communities.
“We have to think about tikkun olam,” Gallego said. “We have to think about what type of planet we leave behind.” JN
Oasis High School in Scottsdale is making progress toward welcoming its first class of students next fall.
On Monday, Nov. 1, school leaders announced the hiring of its first head of school, Jerry Isaak-Shapiro.
Isaak-Shapiro said he was drawn to the opportunity to work with partners to “create something from the ground floor.”
Oasis has been in the making since 2018, when three women — Tobi Rifkind, Raquel Schnitzer and Elly Bycer — decided to create a Jewish community high school in Scottsdale for teenagers from all backgrounds and levels of observance.
“It will be a school that reaches out to and teaches to the widest expanses of the Jewish community,” Isaak-Shapiro said. “It’s going to be genuinely rigorous academically, and genuinely nurturing and meaningful Jewishly.”
Many parents have to make a choice between a strong Jewish education and a strong secular education, which, he said, is unfair.
“Students and families deserve to have both.”
Isaak-Shapiro joined Oasis from The Agnon School, where he was head of school for 17 years. The Agnon School in Beachwood, Ohio is a community K-8 Jewish day school that bills itself as a leader in project-based learning, an educational model that is also important to the founders of Oasis.
Bycer described the model to Jewish News as an “innovative form of learning.”
Isaak-Shapiro said he is still developing the Jewish education curriculum, but he is certain Hebrew classes will be required.
“Hebrew is the gatekeeper and the opener toward Jewish knowledge, whether it’s religiosity, about modern Israeli TV and hip hop music, a novelist of the 19th century, early Zionist thinkers — Hebrew opens all those doors.”
He is also certain that text-based Jewish learning will play a role.
“ They need to have an appreciation for an understanding of classic Jewish texts,” he said. Some students will be coming from a traditional background, while others will have a more historical or sociological background. “We’re committed to offering the classes that make the most sense for our student body,” he said.
Between now and next fall, IsaakShapiro said he will be developing the school’s curriculum and programming, hiring faculty and administrators and working to get the word out.
noting a disproportionate number of Jewish community leaders attended Jewish day schools. “Day schools are a font, not just of student learning, but they’re developing leaders for the entire Jewish community.”
Oasis will be the second inclusive and co-educational Jewish high school in Greater Phoenix, following the opening of Nishmat Adin-Shalhevet Scottsdale in August. Before the arrival of Nishmat Adin-Shalhevet, which is affiliated with Rabbi Pinchas Allouche of Congregation
Beth Tefillah, a Modern Orthodox synagogue, Shearim Torah High School for girls and Yeshiva High School of Arizona for boys were the only Jewish high schools in Greater Phoenix, and both are Orthodox.
The Oasis board wanted to offer a coeducational option that would appeal to Jewish students across the community, from Orthodox to Reform to unaffiliated.
“It’s something that just needed to happen,” Schnitzer told Jewish News. “It’s a huge undertaking, and there is no guaranteed success. So I think it really took people willing to take that risk. And we’re those people.”
She said the board has “exciting ideas” but it’s the head of school “who brings that to life.”
Isaak-Shapiro said he is excited for the opportunity — both for himself and the first class of students. “They’ll be able to form a lot of the foundation of the school that will last for many years,” he said. It could be “something as silly” as choosing a mascot, or “something as profound” as making the ground rules for student government.
“I’m excited to jump in,” he said. JN
To learn more about The Oasis School, visit theoasisschool.org.
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When news spread that antisemitic flyers, accusing Jews of controlling the world through banks, media, big business and pornography, had been posted around Arizona State University’s Tempe campus on Nov. 1, the school’s Jewish organizations, as well as its Jewish students, reacted quickly.
Rabbi Shmuel Teichtel, leader of Chabad of ASU, heard about the flyers found in various spots, including at the Hassayampa Academic Village, a freshman residential area with a dining hall that includes a kosher bistro, when students reached out to inform him of what was going on.
“I was shocked, I was hurt, I was bothered and I was concerned,” he said.
Teichtel said that his priority is the students and their feelings.
“Students are feeling unsafe and concerned. I’ve heard from many parents and alumni about it,” he said.
Debbie Yunker Kail, executive director at Hillel at ASU, said that she heard about the posters when students reached out to Hillel staff.
“As soon as I saw it, I was in touch with the police chief and the dean of students,” she said.
Hillel’s mission is to educate students about the Jewish culture and raise awareness of antisemitism, she said.
“Everything Hillel ASU does every day is to combat antisemitism,” she said.
The Jewish Cultural Coalition (JCC) and the Council of Religious Advisors (CORA) also released public statements quickly to let students know they took the issue seriously.
The JCC’s statement pointed to a recent Hillel International and Anti-Defamation League survey that found a third of Jewish college students report they have experienced antisemitism on campus.
“We are disappointed and horrified at the blatant displays of antisemitism on campus,” their statement read.
CORA assured students it is “committed to promoting a culture that is not silent when we see any group of people being mistreated; we stand in solidarity with the Jewish community.”
Students have also swung into action.
Emily Singer, a senior and president of Chabad at ASU, saw the flyers on Instagram and was shocked.
“I was livid,” she said. “The more pictures I saw, the more detail it had.”
She immediately jumped into action and reposted the picture on her Instagram
story to spread the word about what was happening. Singer filed an incident report with ASU police and helped draft an email to be sent to the ASU administration.
The email template was shared with Jewish student leaders, who then shared it with the public. There have been over 450 clicks on the link to the email form, which demands that ASU President Michael Crow officially respond.
Singer wants to see the school administration address students’ concerns and educate non-Jewish students on both antisemitism and Judaism.
“I think most antisemitism comes from ignorance,” she said.
Singer, along with other students, decided to take action and planned a rally on Hayden lawn in Tempe for the afternoon of Nov. 4.
“I really hope that we get a lot of support from non-Jewish students, and I’d love to see more unity from the Jewish community as well,” she said.
Teichtel reached out to the dean of students on the Tempe campus, Cassandra Aska, and met with both Aska and Joanne Vogel, vice president of
student services, on Nov. 2, along with four Jewish students, including Singer. They discussed how events like these affect Jewish students and what can be done to prevent more antisemitism in the future.
The ASU administration “wanted to know what they could do,” Teichtel said. “They really care.”
He added that the best way to combat antisemitism is to bring more light into the world and be aware of what is going on.
“We’re here for students,” he said.
While Hillel at ASU has worked with students to ensure they are comfortable on campus, Yunker Kail said an address by the school administration is always the best way to ease the students’ worries.
Many students were deeply upset, she said, and they “need to hear that people who facilitate the environment they live in see and hear their lived experience.”
Avery Klatsky, a Jewish student at ASU, noticed one of the flyers on his way to class. The flyer was in the process of being taken down by a police officer.
“I’m glad that someone was able to take it down and remove it before a lot of people got their eyes on it,” he said. A picture of the poster had already been sent in a group chat for Hassayampa residents and was posted on Instagram by multiple Jewish students.
Klatsky said that he has been exposed to this kind of antisemitism ever since he was young, but that it “is a shame that people think that way.” He hopes more people take the time to educate themselves and change their mindset.
Klatsky felt that the ASU administration addressing this incident clearly made students feel safe on campus.
“It is nice to know that the ASU administration supports the Jewish community and is looking out for us,” he said.
One flyer included a signature at the bottom that read, “Happy Halloween from the ASU College Republicans United!” with the group’s logo. However, the group has denied any involvement in spreading the posters and has tweeted that its members “categorically reject its contents.”
The campus group was previously investigated by ASU for antisemitism and racist remarks in 2019.
Adam Wolfe, an ASU police officer, said that as soon as the police received an official report about the flyers, they took action.
“Somebody called in to let us know they were there, and we immediately sent an officer to go take them down,” he said.
Wolfe also said that the police department is always in contact with the deans and the president of the university to make sure everyone has full understanding of the situation.
As for who posted the flyers and if they will be charged with a crime, “that’s still under investigation,” he said.
One year ago, the campus was covered in antisemitic flyers by a group claiming to be neo-Nazis. The year before that, the campus had experienced a similar round of antisemitic flyers.
Klatsky believes that the Jewish community will join together to overcome this moment.
“My ties to Judaism, my belief in Judaism and my love for Judaism goes far beyond any attack anyone could (commit),” Klatsky said. JN
Paul Rockower, executive director of the Jewish Community Relations Council of Greater Phoenix, was caught by surprise at the annual meeting of the Arizona Faith Network earlier this month.
Rockower believed he was merely a passive participant. He was mistaken. He had just finished listening to the virtual keynote presentation, when he heard Rabbi Bonnie Sharfman speak his name.
He suddenly snapped to attention when he heard her announce him as the winner of AFN’s Arizona Peacemaker in Action Award, he said.
“I was overwhelmed by the support, and once I heard the warm words with my name attached I paid full attention,” Rockower said.
Sharfman is AFN’s vice president and member-at large, as well as the spiritual leader of Congregation Kehillah.
Announcing the award, she told the meeting participants that “peace, true peace, is not only the absence of war, but a state of harmony and wholeness” and Rockower is someone who is always working towards communal harmony.
Almost as proof of her point, while she was giving him the award, Rockower was busy writing emails and reaching out to community members about two antisemitic incidents that happened within days of each other.
He was still responding to questions about a woman’s antisemitic screed at a board meeting of the Chandler Unified School District on Oct. 27, while a second incident’s details were unfolding. On Nov.1, antisemitic flyers were discovered at Arizona State University, signed “Happy Halloween from the ASU College Republicans United!” The group denies involvement and Rockower was continuing to manage communication between various community groups the next day while trying to be as present as possible for the AFN event.
“It’s already been a long week, and it’s only Tuesday,” Rockower told Jewish News on Nov. 2.
Sharfman was impressed that Rockower used the moment to inform participants what was happening and to impress upon them the importance of AFN's work and support during moments like this.
“The Israeli ambassador who trained me said never to let an opportunity to share your message go by,” Rockower told Jewish News.
“And this is part of it: sharing the vulnerability the Jewish community faces with those who support us, because their support sustains us.”
Rockower, whom Sharfman called “a beloved member of the network” and someone who “would be reluctant to toot his own horn,” is being honored for his ability to connect disparate people in Greater Phoenix. That’s AFN’s quintessential mission.
Rev. Katie Sexton-Wood, AFN’s executive director, explained that the award is for those “who help to build peace amongst Arizona communities,” and Rockower is someone who personifies the core values of AFN because of his work with “interfaith relationship building and social justice.”
Sharfman agreed.
“According to Jewish tradition every person has been created in the divine image, and seeing people like that is how you start to make peace,” she said. “Paul looks at people that way.”
She added that Rockower “also brings a crazy and fantastic sense of humor, a gentle and loving hand, firmness when necessary, and the ability to find a path” to this important work.
Rockower said he’s grateful for AFN, because “it’s a mechanism for connecting with different faith communities, and they’ve been so supportive of the Jewish community over the last few years as we’ve dealt with difficult things. And we do the same.”
Sharfman, too, has been an active member of the network for many years and said that it’s essential to know one’s neighbors and “to hear their stories and for them to get to know us and hear our stories,” and AFN is a conduit for that.
“If we can see each others’ humanity it is more difficult to hate,” she said.
As for Rockower and his award, Sharfman alluded to the words of Don Quixote about the madness of surrendering one’s dreams.
“Paul does not surrender dreams,” she said. “He envisions them and dedicates himself to turning those dreams of a better world into a reality, to see life as it should be, as it could be.” JN
After a year and a half without an on-the-ground presence in Arizona, the Anti-Defamation League is back in action locally.
Marc Krell assumed the position of associate regional director of ADL Arizona in mid-July, after Carlos Galindo-Elvira, the state’s former regional director, left the position in the beginning of 2020. Krell said he hopes to “bring the Jewish community together,” provide it with a sense of security and unity and help other marginalized communities “live without fear of discrimination and injustice.”
He will continue responding to incidents, working with law enforcement and building on his outreach both inside the Jewish community and out. “That’s what I pride myself in, really, is relationship building. I’ve been doing it throughout my whole career as an academic, as a Jewish communal educator and as a community organizer.”
Krell is no stranger to antisemitism and discrimination. He began his career in 1998 teaching the topics at the University of Arizona. For the past six years, he has been managing programs and partnerships for Hirsch Academy: A Challenge Foundation Academy, a tuition-free, public charter school in Scottsdale, largely serving at-risk Latinx kindergarten and elementary students.
Despite his experience with the Jewish and Latinx communities, and the challenges each faces, “sitting here at my desk on a daily basis, with a front row seat to this, it is very jarring,” Krell said. “Antisemitism has become so blatant and raw out in the public sphere.”
He estimates he gets up to three reports of hate incidents on average per day.
In just the few months he’s been on the job, he has addressed multiple antisemitic and extremist incidents. For example, Krell directly confronted Arizona politicians in September who likened mask requirements
and/or COVID vaccines to Nazi Germany and the Holocaust.
In October, ADL’s Center on Extremism released a report detailing the efforts of the Constitutional Sheriffs and Peace Officers Association and its founder Richard Mack, a former Arizona sheriff, to recruit law enforcement into the anti-government “patriot” movement.
Krell spoke about the report’s findings and its implications with KJZZ.
“This is a pivotal time in Arizona, with the rise of antisemitism and extremism around the country,” he told Jewish News.
“It’s important, especially now, that ADL has a strong presence on the ground to strengthen those relationships within the Jewish community and beyond because we’re all facing that divisive climate where we are encountering a daily barrage of antisemitism and hate.”
The FBI recorded the largest number of hate crimes last year since 2008, and the Jewish community was once again a top target of religiously motivated crimes.
Of the 1,174 religiously motivated hate crimes reported nationally to the FBI in 2020, anti-Jewish hate crimes accounted for 57%. The majority of incidents targeted individuals directly, 53% involved vandalism or property destruction, 33% involved intimidation and 10% entailed either simple or aggravated assault.
The FBI recorded 19 anti-Jewish hate crimes in Arizona.
“Within the last four years or so, with political developments that have occurred, we’ve seen almost a green light given to extremist ideologies and antisemitic tropes,” Krell said.
The incidents that have happened in Arizona reflect the resurgence of antisemitism occurring throughout the country, Krell said. He attributes that to a combination of factors, including concerns about immigration at the border, the violence between Israel and
Hamas in May and the ongoing pandemic.
“When portraying these types of perceived global or domestic crises, Jews are often branded as the scapegoats who are responsible for bringing about those situations,” he said.
Jews are also blamed by white supremacists for bringing non-white immigrants into the United States as part of the great replacement theory, while in the case of the Israel-Hamas conflict, Israel is portrayed as a “demonic state engaged in a genocide of the Palestinian people, even comparing Israeli policy to Nazism,” he said.
With the pandemic, Jews and other marginalized communities are blamed for spreading the virus. These conspiracy theories are rooted “in the classic antisemitic trope” of a group of Jewish leaders plotting to take over the world, he said.
“ADL does not just call these things out,” he said. “We are actually engaged in the hard work of building relationships in the community.”
Nearly 40 Arizona schools are participating in ADL’s No Place For Hate program, for example. It is an anti-bias and anti-bullying climate improvement framework that schools pair with their own programming to form one message that all students have a place to belong. “We work with schools, we advocate, we do our investigative research, we collaborate with law enforcement,” he said.
ADL was founded in 1913 in New York, and the Arizona office was established in 1983. The organization has to walk “a fine line,” Krell said, between exposing hate and giving the hate and the groups espousing it more visibility.
A Pew survey released in May found more than 9 in 10 Jews say there is at least “some” antisemitism in the United States, including 45% who say there is “a lot.” Slightly more than half of Jews surveyed (53%) nationally say that they feel less safe today than they did five years ago as a Jewish person in the U.S.
Krell said ADL wants to reassure people feeling fearful or with concerns “that we’re here addressing those issues. We are here to alleviate concerns, not to increase concerns.”
Krell can recall several instances of personally being a victim of antisemitism growing up attending non-Jewish schools. As a college student, he went to Europe and visited several concentration camps. Those experiences shaped his interest in pursuing a career in educating people about Judaism and antisemitism and promoting Jewish identity, and “educating the next generation within the Jewish community” to be able to respond to antisemitism.
“When I found out about the ADL position, this was really an opportunity for me to combine my experience as an advocate in the Jewish community, as well as with a marginalized Latinx community,” he said. “ADL is really a crucial component to this community, and I’m glad to be a part of this organization.” JN
Americans are worn out from the pandemic, worried about the economy and looking for leadership. This can be seen in casual conversations with friends and relatives, and in the jarring numbers of a Post-ABC poll released this week. The combination of voter exhaustion and heightened economic concern spells trouble for President Joe Biden, whose approval rating has fallen to 41 percent.
Pollsters found that 63% say that Biden has done “little or nothing” or not very much during his time in office. That includes one third of Democrats who had been polled. The numbers are similar to those of former President Donald Trump during this point in his presidency.
And while Biden’s $1.2 trillion bipartisan infrastructure package and pending $2 trillion “reconciliation” social and climate change bill are largely popular, and there were 531,000 more jobs in October, it is the bad news that
has Americans worried: October’s 6.2% rise in the inflation rate is the highest in 31 years. The official view is that choke points in the supply chain, as well as higher demand for fuel are causing temporary cost increases. But like the pandemic itself, the longer the rise in prices goes on, the darker the future seems.
Many who recall the country’s last large bout with inflation in the 1970s are particularly concerned. They learned through experience that inflation builds upon itself, as it strangles the economy. Initial attempts to stop inflation during the last surge — President Nixon’s mandatory wage and price controls and President Ford’s “Whip Inflation Now” (WIN) initiative — were failures. Fiscal and monetary changes begun under President Carter and continued under President Reagan were successful but came at great cost in wage stagnation that has lingering effects to this day.
Biden’s infrastructure and reconciliation
The name Maccabee — drawn from the historic group of Jewish rebel warriors who founded the Hasmonean dynasty — has come to symbolize strength, prowess and pride. Israel’s Maccabi Tel Aviv basketball team is internationally known. It rose out of the Maccabiah movement, a Zionist enterprise that was established to build the health and strength of Jewish youth. The movement continues today in the quadrennial Maccabiah Games, also called the Jewish Olympics. And more recently, when billionaire Sheldon Adelson wanted to start a campus student movement to defend Israel, it was given the name Campus Maccabees.
Strength, prowess and pride. These words are appropriate to describe the remarkable success of Yeshiva University’s men’s basketball
team, the Maccabees or “Macs.” At 40 straight victories as we go to press, YU’s Maccabees have the longest winning streak across all levels of men’s college basketball. The Maccabees play in the “unheralded Skyline Conference of the NCAA’s third division,” as ESPN put it, “along with such hoops juggernauts as Sarah Lawrence College and the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy.”
Yeshiva University is best known as a gateway to Jewish knowledge, the rabbinate and a wide array of scholarly and professional accomplishments, not to the NBA. But now, the sports world is taking note.
With its home in Manhattan, Yeshiva University doesn’t recruit for athletics or offer athletic scholarships. Its athletes need to work their schedules around a rigorous dual curricu-
bills address serious societal issues. But questions remain regarding funding for them. They will not pay for themselves, as some still contend, and taxing billionaires won’t be enough. Inevitably, some form of broader tax increase will be necessary. But with rising inflation and related economic concerns such increases will be very difficult to navigate. The administration has been wholly ineffective in confronting and addressing these issues. In part, that’s because they don’t have comprehensive answers. But in uncertain times, answers are what people turn to government for.
The time has come for the president’s team to lay out a clear plan for the economy and give answers regarding funding for the trillions needed to pay for the infrastructure and reconciliation bills. President Biden promotes the value of plain talk and direct communication with the American people. It’s time for him to do exactly that. JN
I’m writing in response to Jewish News’ September article, “Worried about climate, Jewish activists attempt to sway Sinema.”
We are running out of time. Sinema is holding everything up dancing around and holding us hostage. I won’t vote for her again. Every second CO2 keeps spewing into the air we are that much further from our mark of cutting emission by 50% by 2030. We are running out of time.
At this point I don’t care how it happens: carbon pricing, good will from individuals acting on their own or the government stepping in and stopping every fossil fuelpowered machine now and making us stay in our homes until we figure out an electricpowered way. We are running out of time. It needs to stop yesterday. Sinema is gambling our futures so she can advance her political career. The Build Back Better plan is a way all of us — individuals, industry and government — can be part of doing something now, before it’s too late. Even if it already is.
April Rizzi, Mesa
lum that makes little or no accommodation for competitive sports. Yet, the men’s basketball team keeps winning.
ESPN surmises that the Maccabees have become a national story because of the lingering stereotype that Jews don’t excel at athletics. This is so, notwithstanding some well-known Jewish athletes, like boxing champ Max Baer, Hall of Fame quarterbacks Sid Luckman and Benny Friedman, baseball legends Hank Greenberg and Sandy Koufax, and the swimming icon Mark Spitz. And in the recent World Series, three Jewish players — Atlanta’s Max Fried and Joc Pederson and Houston’s Alex Bregman got a lot of Jewish media and broader attention.
When before have we seen a small, determined band called the Maccabees, fighting
for prominence in a backwater league and accomplishing an improbable victory? With Chanukah beginning at sunset on Nov. 28, the victorious Maccabees of Yeshiva University bring to mind the holiday story. It is anchored in the uplifting account of liberation and dedication in which a day’s worth of pure oil was used to light the Temple menorah, with a flame that lasted for eight days. All of that is part of the messy story of the Jewish fight against the Damascus-based imperial rulers of the land and of conflict between two rival Jewish camps.
The improbable victory of the Maccabees of old continues to inspire hope and pride. So, too, some 2,200 years after that event, we have our 21st century Maccabees — the winningest team in men’s college basketball. That’s something to celebrate. JN
RABBI ABRAM GOODSTEIN | JTA
grew up Jewish in Alaska. The Jewish community in Anchorage, the city where I grew up, did things their own Jewish way. It was the only kind of Judaism that I knew.
For example, I used to think that everyone had their bar or bat mitzvah during the summer, because in Alaska, anyway, that was
the best time to invite relatives.
Later, of course, I encountered many forms of Judaism. I have lived in Jerusalem. I have worshipped and worked at Jewish communities too small for a synagogue and congregations with over 1,500 families. All these experiences convinced me to become a rabbi. But I would have never predicted that, after ordination at Hebrew Union CollegeJewish Institute of Religion in 2017, I would come back to my hometown as a rabbi.
I now officiate at b’nai mitzvah in the very sanctuary where I received mine. As a lover of nature and someone who has grown to appreciate Judaism in smaller cities and towns, I feel Alaska is a great place to be Jewish. While some may think it’s distant and cold, I have always found it cozy and welcoming.
Except when it isn’t.
This past year, as our state officials and politicians decide on how to best fight
COVID, we saw an uptick of people comparing health mandates to the Holocaust. During a contentious Assembly meeting on mandating masks in Anchorage, protesters against mask mandates started wearing yellow stars of David, appropriating the Holocaust and the Nazis’ genocide against the Jewish people. Anchorage’s mayor at one point even exclaimed that the Alaskan Jewish community would support these
SEE GOODSTEIN, PAGE 10
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protesters’ message.
A small community of some 4,500 people, far from the large centers of Jewish life, might have been expected to let this go. Or perhaps grumble among ourselves and let “outsiders” object for us.
Instead, at a hearing on masks in September, one of my congregants, State Assemblyman Forrest Dunbar, read a letter I had written. “It was heart-wrenching for me when I noticed individuals were wearing yellow Stars of David, mimicking my Jewish ancestors who perished during the Holocaust,” he read, quoting me. “For myself and most Jews, seeing the yellow Star of David on someone’s chest elicits the same feeling as seeing a swastika on a flag or the SS insignia on a uniform. I believe it is a constitutional right to protest for your values. But I request that you do not use symbols that diminish the 6 million Jews
who were murdered during the Holocaust.”
The mayor apologized the next day, thanks to the work of a confident Jewish community that showed him how hurtful his remarks were for Alaskan Jews.
Our confidence comes with deep roots. In 1900, a community of 60 Jews celebrated Rosh Hashanah in Nome using a Torah brought by Sam Bayles, a Latvian immigrant who sought his fortune in the Alaska Gold Rush. The Bayles Torah stayed in Nome until after World War I, when it was moved slightly south (537 miles) to my congregation, Congregation Beth Sholom in Anchorage, where it remains today alongside other Torah scrolls with their own uniquely Alaskan histories.
Their stories are much the same as the story of how Jews came to Alaska. Whether through a pioneering spirit, a sense of amazement or a need to connect with tradition in the farthest North, Jews have been coming to Alaska since before it was even a state.
everal states have endeavored to create new academic programs to educate students on race and equity. This topic can be a lightning rod for criticism from both the right and the left. In my home state of Arizona, we have had a long history of banning these topics in education.
We first banned ethnic studies after the passage of the horrible SB1070 law, which allowed people from my Hispanic community to be targeted and harassed by law enforcement into showing our legal documents; we recently banned critical race theory; and we are now requiring that we teach “both sides” of controversial issues.
Recently, California got it right. Our neighbor to the west went through an exhaustive process and sought feedback from a wide variety of stakeholders. It is among the first states
in the nation to unveil an ethnic studies curriculum that provides important, age-appropriate lessons without opening the door to critical race theory and antisemitism.
California’s curriculum — and the process by which the state developed it — should be a model for Arizona and the rest of the nation.
In September, Governor Gavin Newsom signed into law a bill that requires all state-funded schools to offer at least one ethnic studies course by 2025. Ethnic studies course completion will become a graduation requirement by 2029. This curriculum went through several revisions, as many parents took issue with its characterization of Jews and Israel, among many other things.
To their credit, California officials chose to engage actively the Jewish community and solicit its input once concerns came to light. The result is a stronger, more inclusive curriculum and
I often feel that Jews in the lower 48 consider Judaism in Alaska to be diminished due to its isolation and its limited population. We certainly have our own unique problems here. Starting Shabbat is a difficult venture when our sunsets are swinging from light most of the night to dark most of the day. Moose get in our sukkot, and snowstorms and bears have prevented us from coming or leaving shul.
However, I believe that Judaism is beautiful here. This is not a place where Judaism just survives, but a place where Judaism thrives. We have our own special Alaskan way of being Jewish.
For example, our community, which has 160 family members, has no formal mikvah, or ritual bath, and yet we are surrounded by mikvah possibilities. Every one of Alaska’s 3 million lakes are pristine, and most of them are remote. Every summer I ready laminated mikvah prayer cards for Jewish Alaskans who wish to enjoy a mikvah experience against the incredible backdrop of rugged mountains
and emerald green forests.
Most people’s Jewish experience, I imagine, come from a connection to Jewish institutions, Jewish professionals and Jewish friends. My Jewish experiences seem always to be nestled among the splendor of God’s creations.
The dispute over Holocaust analogies and its resolution was a great reminder that Jews in Alaska are a part of, not apart from, Alaska. We are not an isolated shtetl, but rather working members of the Alaskan community. There are several current Alaskan Jewish lawmakers, and we have been represented in state leadership all the way back to the framing of the Alaska Constitution. Prior to the current Anchorage mayor’s hurtful comments, three of the city’s previous mayors were Jewish.
We love this place, and we support it in every way we can. JN
Rabbi Abram Goodstein is the rabbi of Congregation Beth Sholom in Anchorage, Alaska and the co-host of the podcast “What Divines Us.”
a better education for California students. Ethnic studies is worth fighting for. When done correctly, teaching about these issues expands students’ horizons and raises awareness about marginalized communities. However, it is very easy to get this wrong. California’s first proposal was initially, and rightfully, met with a torrent of criticism. It included model lessons that overtly promoted antisemitism and defined Jews as members of a privileged class not worthy of inclusion in the broader field of ethnic studies.
The Jewish community was understandably upset and mobilized to voice its concerns. California officials from Governor Newsom on down engaged in good faith and made substantive improvements to expand the curriculum, adding more diverse perspectives and additional viewpoints. By the time Assembly Bill 101 was signed into law, the new curriculum included sample lessons
relating to the history and culture of Black, Hispanic, Sikh, Jewish, Arab and Armenian Americans.
California’s approach should serve as a model for other states to explore how best to teach issues of race and equity in public schools. Parents and community organizations should be engaged at every stage of the process, and all voices should be heard. Policymakers should not decide some communities are more worthy of inclusion than others based on some supposed hierarchy of oppression.
We should keep a watchful eye out for antisemitism and other forms of racism as we draft model curricula and sample lessons. Most of all, we should not shy away from these topics just because they are controversial. Ethnic studies is worth it. JN
Alma Hernandez is a Jewish member of the Arizona House of Representatives, representing District 3.
OREN JACOBSON | JTA
I’ve spent most of the last decade focused on grassroots organizing and capacity building inside the American progressive movement. From helping build the largest leadership development organization on the left, to launching a first-of-its-kind organization to mobilize male allies into the fight to protect and expand reproductive freedom, I’ve proudly
helped elect progressive change makers and pass landmark legislation.
I’ve done all of that as a Jew who wears a kippah in public, as someone who, statistically speaking, shouldn’t exist. My grandfather is one of the 10% of Polish-born Jews to survive World War II. Three million of his Jewish neighbors, and another 3 million across Europe, were packed into boxcars and sent to the slaughter, to gas chambers, to the ovens. What I am is central to who I am.
So when I saw the statement from the Washington, D.C. chapter of the Sunrise Movement last month explaining its refusal to march in a voting rights rally with Jewish groups because they are “Zionists,” I understood immediately that it was deeply problematic. Not only did the decision have the potential impact of spreading anti-Jewish bigotry, but it also weakened our movement more broadly at a time when democracy, which is necessary to ensure civil rights, is under
assault in America.
I also understood right away that, for many people, the anti-Jewish nature of the statement wasn’t so obvious. When moments like this arise, I get texts and calls from progressive peers across the country who ask: “Is this antisemitic?”
To answer the question, I begin by explaining what it means to be a Jew. Judaism is the religion of the Jewish people. But Jewish identity is so much
antisemitic. Here’s what I tell them.
wrestling or an inner spiritual, existential experience. Was he wrestling with his own internal self or with an external force?
re we up to the task to live each day with spiritual awareness? Are we prepared to live morally, ready to be called upon? Are we ready to struggle to achieve a higher ethical calling?
In this week’s Torah portion, we discover one of the most profound existential struggles in the Torah. “Jacob was left alone and a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn.” (Gen. 32:25)
Who was this “ish” (man) that wrestles through the night with Jacob? The Sages argued that Jacob was wrestling with the angel of Esau, his brother, and that as Jacob was preparing to encounter his brother, he first needed to wrestle with his spiritual counterpart. From a different perspective, Rambam and Ramban argue as to whether this was an actual physical
AAt the end of the struggle when Jacob was victorious, the angel said “No longer will it be said that your name is Jacob, but Israel, for you have struggled with the Divine and with man and have overcome.” With this powerful verse, the Torah teaches us that to be a Jew, to be a part of Israel, means to struggle with God and with other people for what is true and good. To be called Israel means to be one who struggles for meaning, for purpose, to reach for God, and to strive to improve the ethical and spiritual fabric of our lives.
Many today are trying to sell us “true religion” all wrapped up with a perfect bow. If we just submit to their perfect truths then we’ve made it. But Judaism, as we learn from our great forefather Jacob, is more about the journey than the destination, more about the struggle than the answer, more about the search for truth than the perfect achievement of truth (which
only God can know). We are asked to be humble rather than certain. We are called upon to be inquisitive rather than confident.
Jacob demands, in the end, that the angel give him a blessing. Jacob’s struggle was not mere intellectual curiosity, arrogance or self-interest. He wanted a lasting connection with God in his pursuit for justice and holiness; he wanted an eternal blessing.
In the end of the struggle, Jacob says, “I have seen God face to face.” (Gen. 32:30) It is similar to Moses. (Ex. 33:11) To see God is to wrestle existentially with the core of our being, our source of responsibility and our purpose, and yet, is also to become transparent, to return to God and to share one’s deepest inner being and motives before the gates of heaven.
Emmanuel Levinas, the great 20th century French Jewish philosopher, wrote “the encounter with ‘the face’ – the most vulnerable part of another person-imposes infinite obligations on the one who opens him/herself to the
encounter.” To wrestle with God and to look at God “face to face” means to accept upon oneself infinite obligations. It could be that the greatest inhibition for us modern 21st century Jews to truly come to God is our fear of being seen and our fear of becoming responsible before we have autonomously chosen a task and understood it fully. Jacob’s victorious wrestling with God should give us hope that if we engage in battle spiritually and ethically that we, too, can come to see the face of God. We will need to learn and prepare, but together we can persevere a journey of lifelong learning and seeking to fulfill a higher calling. JN
bigger and more diverse than religion. Some of us are deeply religious. Some of us are totally secular. All of us are Jews. We’re a people, not simply a religious community. Contrary to what most think, antisemitism is not anti-Judaism in its modern form (several hundred years). It’s anti-Jew. It’s not about how Jews pray, but rather about who they are and what they are accused of doing.
Jews get attacked for supposedly controlling the world (governments, banks, media), for being disloyal to our home countries, for killing Jesus, for making up the Holocaust, for being greedy, for undermining the white race and subverting people of color (among other things).
We’ve been blamed for plagues, famine, economic hardship and war. Whatever major problem a society has, Jews have been blamed for it. None of those things has anything to do with religion.
Criticism of Israel or opposition to it isn’t necessarily antisemitic. Harsh criticism of Israeli government policy may make us uncomfortable but isn’t antisemitic. But the Sunrise DC statement wasn’t about policy. By attacking “Zionist organizations” in a voting rights coalition, and saying that they can’t participate in a coalition that includes them, Sunrise DC basically said it won’t work alongside Jewish organizations (or Jews) that believe the state of Israel has the right to exist.
For the average Jew, Zionism has
become simply the idea that Israel has the right to exist, rather than an embrace of the policies of its government. The Zionist movement got its name in the late 19th century, but it really put a label on a 2,000-year-old yearning to return to the native land Jews were violently forced out of (in an act of colonization). That yearning grew over time as we failed to find sustained peace and security elsewhere, including in Europe, North Africa and the broader Middle East.
That’s why when people attack Zionists, we hear “Jews.” We hear them saying that the 80-90% of Jews who believe Israel has a right to exist are unacceptable, and that Israel, a country that came into existence with the vote of the international community and today is home to 7 million Jews, must be ended.
Why is that antisemitism? First, it singles out Jews when most people believe Israel has the right to exist. (In fact, 85% of the general public in America believes the statement “Israel does not have a right to exist” is antisemitic, according to a survey released last month.) Second, it seeks to deny Jewish people the right to selfdetermination by erasing our peoplehood and connection to the land. Third, it declares that a national movement for Jews is uniquely unacceptable, while at the same time advocating in support of another national movement.
Fourth, it divides Jews into good and bad. Only those who oppose their own national movement can stay. Only Jews
who reject Zionism are allowed. Replace “Jew” with any other group and ask if that would be acceptable.
Even if you forswear coalitions with anyone, Jewish or not, who thinks Israel is legitimate, that still denies the Jewish people’s right to self-determination. It says that Jews must be a perpetual minority on this earth subject to the whims and bigotries of the societies they live in. For thousands of years Jews tried that and failed to find permanent refuge — which, fairly or not, is part of the reason most Jews believe in the right to, and need for, national self-determination in some portion of a contested land.
Sunrise DC wasn’t interested in the nature of their shunned Jewish allies’ support for Israel — even though each of the three groups, like most Jews in America, have advocated for a Palestinian state and for an end to policies by the government of Israel that harm the Palestinian people, including, but not limited to, the occupation of the West Bank.
Ultimately, only Jews get to define who and what we are and what antisemitism is. Too often in progressive spaces that right is denied to Jews. Instead, to justify their own positions, some rely on Jews whose voices, while relevant, are far from representative on the question of what constitutes antisemitism. If someone ignored the voices and lived realities of 80-90% of any other minority group, most progressives would quickly recognize that as an act of tokenization to shield biases (or worse).
Some who identify as progressive feel it’s OK to use the word “Zionist” to attack others, claiming that the word is not about Jews. I encourage everyone to go on far right-wing message boards on occasion. Once there, you’ll see how white supremacists typically call Jews Zionists. The prominence of the word, in connection with claims that they control the governments and are trying to replace white “patriots” with Black and Brown “interlopers,” will stun you.
While there is plenty of room for criticism of Israeli government policy, there should be no room for the exclusionary, reductionist and dehumanizing language of white nationalists in progressive discourse on the topic, or the denial of the right for Jewish self-determination on this earth.
I believe in standing up for those who are attacked for the crime of being who they are as much as I believe in standing up for Jewish life. For me, this work is personal. Not because every issue affects me directly. But because I feel like I owe it to my grandfather. To Jews who were murdered and never had a chance to live. To my peers here who face systemic racism and bigotry. And yes, because I believe “Never Again” isn’t just a slogan to hope for, but rather a mission to fight for. JN
Oren Jacobson is the co-founder of Project Shema, which helps Jewish students, leaders, organizations and allies explore the difficult conversations surrounding Israel and antisemitism.
The East Valley Jewish Community Center recently opened a kosher food pantry with a big assist from a Catholic organization.
When EVJCC CEO Rabbi Michael Beyo decided to expand on the center’s existing JBox, a monthly food delivery program for those in need, he reached out to Jessica Berg, the chief program officer for St. Vincent de Paul. The Catholic international voluntary organization operates in service to the world’s poor. Referred to as the Society, it has a long history of assisting people with housing and clothing needs and health care access.
But its storied history of feeding the hungry and deep experience dealing with food kitchens was what Beyo needed for his kosher pantry, and he approached Berg with the idea.
It spoke to Berg, who is Jewish, because she wants to make connections with the entire community. “I’ve always been passionate about how all faiths can come together,” she said.
She facilitated Beyo’s introduction to Danielle McMahon, the Society’s director of food services, who agreed to help because the Society is always looking for opportunities to work with groups in the community with a similar mission, McMahon said.
“We’re the stewards of food,” she said. “We want our community to be the hands and feet that make the work happen.”
But this pantry would be kosher, unlike any McMahon had worked in before.
“We want to meet the needs of people, and for some people, that means a kosher pantry,” McMahon said.
Beyo was anxious to learn what she had to teach, she said. The biggest problem was simply that he wasn’t quite sure where to start resourcing food, while her biggest challenge was understanding the guidelines of what it means for a food to be kosher.
“We got to know each other, and Rabbi Michael helped me understand kosher food,” she said.
Beyo gave her the rundown for the food box distribution he needed, which is something she does out of Catholic churches already — just never with kosher boxes.
“We decided to give it a try,” she said. Now, the EVJCC’s pantry is the Society’s first partnership in a kosher pantry in Arizona.
Hadassah Baldinger, EVJCC’s assistant executive director, joined Beyo when he first toured the Society’s food pantry in Phoenix. She was impressed.
“It was an amazing day,” she said, via email. “Their hospitality was great and their operation is unbelievable. I was in awe of all that people donate to them, and the kitchen was huge and amazing. It’s one of a kind.”
The EVJCC’s venture is about addressing food insecurity, Baldinger said, but it is also an opportunity to add something that was absent from the area.
“There is no kosher restaurant or market in the East Valley like there is in Phoenix,” she said. “This fills a need and we’re not going to discriminate on who is and who isn’t Jewish. This is a great opportunity to help the community.”
Beyo concurred. “We are thrilled to offer this service to our community in partnership with St. Vincent de Paul and our other partners,” he said, via email. “Many people face hunger each day and we feel that it’s our responsibility to do what we can to help alleviate hunger.”
According to the Arizona Food Bank Network, one in seven Arizonans face food insecurity, more than 311,000 of them children.
The pantry had its first event on Oct. 27. So far, so good, Beyo said.
“Everything worked in the way we planned. From the logistics, to the packaging and food distribution,” he said. “We are especially grateful for the staff and volunteers that took an active part in making this a reality.”
Going forward, the EVJCC will receive an allotment of food from what the Society collects: 50 staple food boxes, delivered once a month. Then, EVJCC volunteers will distribute them in the EVJCC’s back parking lot to
those who register a week before each event. There is no delivery service for pantry items. The second event took place on Wednesday, Nov. 17.
When something with so many moving parts, like this pantry, gets going, Berg said, “it’s never perfect, but we just keep working at it. And I know that people will be helped.”
She’s especially inspired by the interfaith nature of the project, and said it’s why she loves her job.
“We really shared a philosophy: People are in need and we need to try something,” Berg said.
McMahon amplified the point. “We pride ourselves on serving the community as a whole.”
Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints in Chandler provide partial funding for the pantry, too.
Robin Finlinson, community outreach and JustServe Specialist at the Chandler church, said, “I’m thrilled that our congregations are able to work together often to help people in need in various ways — now including the kosher food bank.”
Beyo has emphasized interfaith programs during his tenure at EVJCC.
“We emphasize community by putting the J in the front and the community in the center,” he said. “Everything we do is guided by genuine and authentic Jewish values for the entire community we serve.” JN
Volunteers are needed to help assemble bags of groceries each month. Those interested in volunteering or registering for a bag, go to evjcc.org/foodpantry.
Ifyouneedus, wearehere. Ifyoucansupportus, wethankyou.the drive-through JBox Food Pantry on Oct. 27. PHOTO BY LEISAH WOLDOFF George Goffman helps prepare bags for the JBox Food Pantry, hosted
It’s admirable to support the community; it’s a mitzvah when your support perpetuates Jewish tradition.
When you support the Jewish Tuition Organization through Arizona’s dollar-fordollar private school tax credit, you fund Jewish education for children attending six Jewish day schools throughout Greater Phoenix. At this time of year, when everyone is thinking about supporting nonprofits that make a difference, the JTO, a school tuition organization (STO), asks that you consider giving a child the gift of a Jewish education. The private school tax credit is available to both individuals and corporations. More
educational experience they enjoy today.
The impact lasts a lifetime. Often students who have completed their educations, through college, still keep in touch with the JTO. Many former students are now community leaders making a difference for the next generation. JTO supporters deserve the credit — providing children with JTO scholarships would not be possible without them.
Arizona also has a corporate tax credit offered to companies filing as C-corps or S-corps, LLCs filing as S-corps and insurance companies through the corporate private school tax credit. This is the only dollar-fordollar tax credit program for corporations. Scholarships funded through corporate support go to children from low-income families and the program meets Community Reinvestment Act requirements for banking institutions. Through the corporate tax credit, a company can support the community it serves and make a difference without impacting other charitable initiatives. The tax credit is a great way for businesses to increase their community relations efforts and effectiveness.
Children’s Cancer Network supports children and families throughout their cancer journey with programs and services designed to provide financial assistance, promote education, encourage healthy lifestyles, and create an awareness of issues they face related to childhood cancer.
Serving over 800 families annually, Children’s Cancer Network strives to address the highest priority needs just when they are needed most. Our intention is for each family to realize they are not alone in their fight. Giving hope to Arizona’s children and families is our goal.
Make a di erence today by choosing Children’s Cancer Network for your charitable tax credit donation.
$400 for those that file as individuals and $800 for those who file jointly will be returned to you, dollar for dollar, on your Arizona State Taxes.
Questions? Contact Patti Luttrell at Patti.luttrell@childrenscancernetwork.org or 602-717-9139 | childrenscancernetwork.org
Donate today at childrenscancernetwork.org/donate
than 90% of the funds raised are distributed through more than 650 JTO scholarships. The 2021 maximum amounts for the private school tax credit are $1,219 for single taxpayers and $2,435 for married taxpayers filing jointly. Supporting the JTO through the tax credit helps provide many children with a Jewish education, which they wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford. The JTO is a community organization that supports families who have decided that attending one of its affiliated Jewish day schools is the appropriate choice for their children; and with the community’s help, the JTO makes it happen.
The schools supported by the JTO pride themselves on the Judaic and secular education they provide students.
There are students flourishing in schools supported by the JTO who weren’t succeeding in their previous schools. In some cases their siblings joined them at their new school, because the families were so thrilled with their child’s success. Without JTO scholarships these students would not have the same
There is not a maximum tax credit amount for corporations. Corporations can take the credit up to their total Arizona tax liability until the state cap is exhausted. The 2021/22 state cap for the program has still not been met. There is in excess of $20 million still available. All corporate applications must be submitted by a certified STO, such as the JTO. Companies cannot submit directly to the Arizona Department of Revenue. The JTO is submitting applications as they come into their offices. Once the application is submitted, the approval takes approximately a week. Contact the JTO office for more information if your company can take the corporate tax credit.
The JTO provides more than 650 scholarships each year with the generous support of individuals and corporations. The children benefit, the community benefits and Jewish traditions flourish as taxpayers and corporations realize the impact they can make through the dollar-for-dollar tax credit.
As Benjamin Franklin said, “An investment in knowledge pays the best dividends.” JN
For more information, call the JTO offices at 480.634.4926 or visit jtophoenix.org to give your support today. The JTO is a 501(c)(3) and can also accept charitable contributions; all support is appreciated.
Linda Zell is the Jewish Tuition Organization’s executive director.
THE CHILDREN BENEFIT, THE COMMUNITY BENEFITS AND JEWISH TRADITIONS FLOURISH AS TAXPAYERS AND CORPORATIONS REALIZE THE IMPACT THEY CAN MAKE.
few weeks ago, a package arrived from my aunt. I opened it to find presents wrapped in a light blue wrapping paper with white dots. The words, “Just a little care package for your first Chanukah! I’m glad you’re in our family!” were written beautifully in cursive.
I have yet to meet my aunt in person, but she has provided life-saving support during one of the most turbulent years of my life. Getting the package brought tears to my eyes, and it was a beautiful change of pace to cry happy tears.
I’m 35 and my son is 11, and this will be our first Chanukah.
Last March, my identity shifted forever when an at-home DNA test revealed that the dad who raised me wasn’t my biological father; instead of being fully Hispanic, as I’d always thought, I am half Jewish.
The aunt who sent the care package was the first person I connected with when I made my discovery. I’ve since met my new-to-me sister in person; I plan to meet my aunt and her family next year in person; and I have connected via video chat and text with other family members. What started as a search for my dad’s other children turned into an unexpected journey of mystery, grief and gratitude.
Chanukah will come with mixed emotions, but I’m used to that at this time of year.
In 2008, my mom died 12 days before Christmas; we held a bedside vigil as Christmas carols played. In 2010, my dad passed away 10 days before Christmas, my son’s first. So, the holidays have always felt heavy, but also light. I learned to mourn the anniversaries of my parents’ passing each year, but also to see the holiday season from my child’s perspective. I’ve learned to allow myself space to grieve, but I don’t allow myself to stay there too long as there’s a child to celebrate with.
Grief and gratitude exist side by side.
But this year I could feel the emotions coming earlier than usual. It’s my first holiday season post-DNA discovery, and it just feels heavy. I grieve for the relationships that didn’t turn out as expected and for relationships that have changed. But I am also grateful for amazing new family members who have embraced me, and my friends and family who have supported me
Athrough this journey — not just me, but us.
And I’m looking forward to Chanukah. After months of tears (both good and bad), therapy and navigating an experience that there’s not a lot of guidance for, I want some light.
I started by asking Jewish friends if celebrating a holiday that technically isn’t mine is OK. Because I’m Christian and new to all of this, I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t offend, that I wouldn’t step into a space that wasn’t mine. Everyone was kind, friendly and welcoming.
I learned that the Festival of Lights is just that — a celebration of triumph, miracles, togetherness — of light in the darkness. I need a little of that.
So, I went over-the-top ridiculous one morning at 2 a.m. and bought my son a present for each night (I know, not needed!), a menorah and candles. My aunt sent me a dreidel, a book and a waffle maker with a dreidel imprint on it. She also sent presents for my son, who’s completely on board, because, let’s face it, what kid isn’t about more fun stuff to celebrate?
I still have some reading to do on exactly how to do this celebration. I’m not going to lie, I’ll likely do something incorrectly. But I will do some things that matter right: A friend from Tucson and I will Zoom one of the nights; my supportive family will join us one of the nights; my sister and I will coordinate one night as well; and, on the first night, I’ll likely Zoom in with family I didn’t know existed until this past spring as they gather to celebrate.
The last few months have been hard — so hard. (And trust me, I’m well acquainted with hard.) But even though everything seems upside down and inside out in my world, there’s still so many examples of good in this story. I was texting with a friend, and she said, “Hold onto the bright spots.” I plan to do just that.
Grief and gratitude walk side by side, because without grief, the bright spots — comprised of amazing people and experiences — wouldn’t shine quite as brightly. So that’s what we plan to celebrate during our first Chanukah. It’s the Festival of Lights after all, and they continue to glow even when there’s no explainable reason why. That’s the miracle of all of this. Let’s celebrate the light. JN
When the COVID-19 pandemic forced all in-person events to be canceled, the Center for Senior Enrichment, sponsored by Jewish Family and Children’s Service, found a new way to bring its programs to the community.
And now, one year later, the virtual CSE is reaching thousands of older adults and will continue to offer
“When we had to quickly close our doors in March of 2020, I knew I wasn’t ready to say goodbye,” said Jennifer Brauner, CSE director. “With online platforms like Zoom I knew we could move our programming online and work diligently to ensure we could create a meaningful experience for all our participants.”
Brauner approached Ellie Schwartzberg, JFCS’ vice president of older adults and Jewish community services, with the idea of a virtual center instead. “Neither of us was really sure whether this would work or not,” Schwartzberg admits, “but it was certainly worth trying. And we’re so glad we did.”
Brauner set out to create the virtual CSE after having served for several years as site director of the CSE at The Palazzo in Phoenix.
At first, many of the seniors weren’t too sure about this “new-fangled” ZOOM, but with help from JFCS tech volunteers (and their own grandchildren) they became increasingly more comfortable with the platform and started looking forward to participating in programs. And with the convenience of logging in from home, many were participating in several events throughout the week.
Nearly all of the online programs are live, meaning the participants can make comments and ask questions. This interaction is key to making the connection a comfortable one.
Brauner said the program has gained participants each month and continues to expand its variety of offerings.
“I am beyond thrilled that this ‘gift’ I created for the community has been able to bring so much joy to these participants’ daily lives and to my own, as well. We have built friendships, learned new interests and, most importantly, supported one another during the pandemic. It has been an incredible year as we have grown together as a community.”
Participants continue to provide feedback about the programs. One participant wrote, “First of all, I must tell
you how very much I am enjoying all the wonderful lectures on such a variety of subjects. I look forward to each one and several have stimulated further interest and research. I have been raving about them to one of my friends who is now very interested in getting more information and registering for them. Thank you again for helping to keep our senior minds active.”
The next event is a musical Chanukah celebration on Zoom on Dec. 3 at 11 a.m. Dr. Steve Rothstein of the Judaic Sacred Music Foundation and Rabbi Josh Warshawsky, a nationally touring Jewish musician, song leader and composer, will be leading the music. Participants can bring menorahs and come together as a community as we light Chanukah and Shabbat candles, sing holiday songs and discuss the meaning of Chanukah. The program will conclude with a mini concert and discussion featuring new Chanukah songs and choral works. JN
The program is free and open to all older adults in Maricopa County, but registration is required. When you register, you will receive a Zoom link to enter the program. To register for this program and to see all the other options available, go to jfcsaz.org/events. Click on the day/ event you’re interested in and you’ll be able to register.
Donations to the Center for Senior Enrichment are greatly appreciated and will help support ongoing programs offered to the community. To donate, go to jfcsaz.org/donate/donate-online-now/ then select “Center for Senior Enrichment” as your designation for support.
Abbie S. Fink is vice president/general manager of HMA Public Relations.
Though it might feel like we just got through the High Holidays, Chanukah is just around the corner. This year, the Festival of Lights begins on November 28th — yes, Thanksgiving weekend — and given that we’re still in a pandemic, we totally get it if you’re trying to make Chanukah a little extra special this year.
If you’re looking for a funny and comfy T-shirt or hoodie, Schmattees offers a line of home goods and apparel for children and adults that combines Jewish pride and humor with a touch of chutzpah.
The name is a tongue-incheek take on the Yiddish word “schmatte” combined with “T-shirt.” Schmattees carries a lot of T-shirts, sweatshirts, hoodies and mugs in sizes from infant to 3X. T-shirts start at $18 at shopschmattees.com.
Based in Tempe, Rango Honey won an award for its desert-based honey at Arizona’s state fair the first year it was in business. Pure, raw honey flavors from Sonoran Orange Blossom to Sonoran Clover Alfalfa sweeten challah for the holidays and every day.
The honeycomb itself is also a product that makes a nice holiday treat. Lorrie Innes, a regional salesperson for the company, said the first time she ever tasted honeycomb was when she interviewed for the job. Now, she said, she’s addicted. “It’s like crack — but good for you,” she joked.
Its honey is available at grocery chains in Arizona and 26 other states, and since the pandemic, sales have gone online as well. You can buy a holiday pack for $19.99 at RangoHoney.com.
If witty, clever, Jewish-themed greeting cards make you smile, you’ll have a terrific time shopping online at Modern Mitzvah — a Scottsdalebased Judaica boutique. Not only will you find the perfect, schmaltzy sentiments to send, you’ll also discover a wide variety of beautiful Judaica to celebrate a wedding, bar or bat mitzvah, bris or baby naming.
Customizable photo cards have greetings like “Happy Everything” and “Fa La La La Latke,” and all of Modern Mitzvah’s customized Judaica certificates and Home Blessings are printed on thick, topquality paper and then placed in a glass picture frame. Card sets start at $14 at shopmodernmitzvah.com.
Phoenix’s Dripping Dog Clothing started by making bathrobes for dogs just stepping out of the pool or the bathtub. Shari Mindlen, the company’s founder, suspected few people enjoy having the reality of a wet dog on their person or their furniture, and thus a business venture was born. Now it’s expanded into dog coats and bandanas with pithy messages or cute appellations that make for a fun gift for dog-owning family or friends. Coats start at $10 at drippingdog.com.
And if you’re looking for a fun yet practical Chanukah gift for your loved ones, consider a festive, Chanukah-themed face mask. While there is a wide variety of fun Jewish face masks on the market, these masks are perfect for getting into the Chanukah spirit this season.
Tie-dye has been a pandemic staple for many of us, so why not continue this trend for the Festival of Lights? This blue tie-dye cotton mask is washable and comfy, plus it features a sparkly rhinestone menorah (who can resist?). It also has a sewn-in filter, adjustable ear loops and a nose wire for custom-like fit. Find it on Etsy for $14.99.
Add a pop of color to your Chanukah blues and silvers with this washable dreidel-print mask that brings red, green and gold to the mix. With elastic ear loops and a snug fit, this mask is basically a piece of art you can wear on your face. Find it on Redbubble for $10.
If you aren’t lucky enough to have a real dinosaur menorah in your life — you can get on that by entering Kveller. com's dinosaur menorah giveaway — you can also have one in mask form. This machine-washable, three-layer mask comes in kids’ sizes, so it could be a perfect gift for a special little one in your life. Find it on Etsy for $11.95.
A neck gaiter is an alternative to the conventional mask — which, despite some early-pandemic bad publicity, has been shown to protect against aerosols as well as other styles. This cute Chanukahthemed gaiter is both festive and cute. Who doesn’t love dogs and dreidels? Find on Etsy for $23.95.
This adorable mask is adorned with an image of a squiggly, flower-inspired menorah. A subtle nod to the holiday, this mask adds a colorful and floral twist to your mask rotation. Find it on Redbubble for $10.
Last but absolutely not least, bring some humor to your Chanukah season with these funny, punny masks. From “I love you a latke” to “How JEW Doin?” — printed in a Friends-like font — this bundle from Etsy has something for everyone. Find it on Etsy for $5. JN
For more articles like this, visit Kveller.com.
Many of us love eating potato latkes during Chanukah to celebrate the miracle of the oil. But did you know there is another special holiday ingredient, which often goes overlooked? You aren’t alone if you didn’t know that cheese, and more specifically fried cheese, is a symbol of Chanukah.
It comes from the story of Judith, a brave heroine and beautiful young widow, who lived among a small town of Jews in ancient Israel. A Greek army, led by Holofernes, began to take over the town by seizing its only available water reserves.
Desperate and weak due to the lack of water, Judith courageously stepped forward and asked for an audience with Holofernes. Struck by her beauty, the general invited Judith into his tent, where she offered him a heavy meal of salty cheese and wine to wash it down. When Holofernes was deep in a food and wine stupor, Judith stole his sword, cut off his head and hung it in the town square for everyone to see. The rest of the Greek army was so distraught that they fled the town leaving Judith and her people safe once again.
The story timelines of the Chanukah miracle and Judith’s great heroic act might be centuries apart, but many have enjoyed eating fried cheese latkes as part of their Chanukah celebration. And it wasn’t until much more recently, possibly due to a lack
of available cheese, that potato latkes became more popular and common to enjoy during the holiday.
So, for this year, I have decided to fry up some varieties of cheese latkes. And cheese is pretty great, so I hope these recipes help provide you with some new ways to enjoy the holiday.
These cheesy pancakes are probably similar to the traditional latkes served to celebrate Judith and her bravery. They can be enjoyed as-is or with a topping of jelly or drizzle of honey as a way to enjoy a sweet, salty treat for Chanukah. My kids absolutely love these and have requested them for breakfast on weekend mornings when we have a bit more leisure to our mornings.
Ingredients
15 ounces whole milk ricotta cheese
4 eggs
1 ½ cups of flour
¼ cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
Oil for frying
Optional: ½ teaspoon cinnamon
In a blender or food processor, combine the ricotta cheese and eggs and pulse until combined. While that is processing, add the flour, sugar, salt and baking powder in a large
bowl and stir to combine.
Slowly pour the cheese and egg mixture into the bowl of dry ingredients and mix until a thick batter has formed.
Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat and add your oil until about ¼-inch high. Slowly add large spoonfuls of batter to the pan making sure they are even in thickness by flattening out with a spoon if necessary.
Cook pancakes for about 2 to 3 minutes per side until crispy and brown on both sides, flipping once to ensure even cooking.
Add more oil as needed and repeat the process of adding the batter and cooking in the pan until all pancakes have been cooked. Serve immediately.
APPLE CHEDDAR LATKES
There is something really comforting about the combination of tart apples and cheddar cheese. And these simple but tasty latkes look a bit more like common potato latkes due to the shredded ingredients. In fact, my oldest was pleasantly surprised to taste these after claiming he didn’t really like latkes. When I assured him it would taste like no latke he’s ever had, he went for a taste and came back to gobble down a few more. We always tend to have most of these ingredients on hand, so they will be easy to remake and enjoy, not only during Chanukah, but year-round.
Ingredients
5 large green apples
8 ounces shredded cheddar cheese
2 eggs
1 ½ cups of flour
2 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
Oil for frying
Wash, peel and grate the apples. Squeeze out excess liquids and place in a large bowl. Add the shredded cheese and eggs and mix to combine.
Add the remaining ingredients and thoroughly mix until fully combined — I recommend getting a bit dirty and using your hands for this part.
Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat and add your oil until about ¼-inch high. Using about ¼ cup of the mixture per latke, form round flat patties and place into the hot pan. Cook latkes for about 2 to 3 minutes per side until crispy and brown on both sides, flipping once to ensure even cooking.
Repeat the process of forming the flat patties and cooking in the pan until all latkes have been cooked. If oil gets too low, slowly add a bit more to the skillet. Remove from skillet and place on a paper towel to drain excess oil. Serve warm. JN
Deep clean the house (after cooking the latkes)
Start in the guest room and work your way through common areas like the kitchen, dining room and TV room. Do more than moving the dust around. Look for areas that need cleaning. Make your toilets sparkle, scrub your counter tops, scour the grout from floor and backsplash tiles and clear bathroom drains. Haul out your step ladder and search for dust in all the places you usually ignore such as on top of ceiling fan blades, plate racks, kitchen cabinets and hanging picture frames. Vacuum the dust from exhaust fans. Sweep under the guest room bed.
Pull out and organize Chanukah decorations and games before your guests arrive
You may still be eating Thanksgiving leftovers and cleaning up from the holiday when the first night of Chanukah arrives. With the holidays so close, the tough job of preparing your home for eight nights of house guests might be stressing you out. Are you reaching for the Manischewitz wine before Shabbat? No sweat, you can do this.
Get prepared
Fix yourself a cup of tea and draft a list that includes everything you need to do so your home makes a good impression on your house guests and makes them feel comfortable during their stay. Then enlist the help of your family and make appointments with any service professionals you’ll need to help you finish the chores on time. Be sure to include these tasks on your list.
Tackle the small repairs you’ve been putting o
You might be used to the drip drip drip of a slow-leaking faucet that’s been on the fritz for months, but the sound can drive visitors crazy, especially if they can hear it while they’re trying to sleep. Do a sweep of the house. Fix leaky faucets, clogged drains, cracked windows, creaky door hinges and loose doorknobs. Little problems can make a poor impression.
Get the furnace inspected
If the temperatures eventually dip, you’ll have the heat on while your company is there, at least overnight. You’ll rest easier knowing a heating and air conditioning technician has given your system a once-over and cleared it — or repaired it — so it won’t leave your guests in the cold.
Sweep the chimney
It’s a messy, time-consuming job, so you might want to hire a professional chimney sweep. Choose one who can do both cleaning and an inspection. An inspector will look for cracks in the masonry, damaged dampers, worn-out chimney caps and other problems, in addition to removing what you can’t see: the creosote, soot, ashes, dust, leaves and even birds that are stuck in the flue and chimney.
Gussie up the guest room
If it’s been doubling as a sewing room, a storage space or a home office since the last time bubbe came to visit, get in there and clean it out. Move your personal items to another room so you won’t have to bother your guests to retrieve them during their stay. Make room in the closet for your guests to hang clothes. Launder the bedspread and place some Chanukah gelt on each pillow.
Create “guest space” in the guest bathroom
Make your guests feel especially welcome by designating a bathroom for them that the rest of the family won’t use during their stay. This will allow them to unpack toiletries and hang wet towels instead of toting them back and forth from the bathroom to the bedroom.
Add a hook to the inside of the bathroom door for hanging towels and robes and clear a shelf — or add one — near the sink where guests can place razors, makeup and brushes.
Cook the latkes and sufganiyot in advance
These delicacies take time to prepare. Do you want to spend all your time in the kitchen with your shvigger telling you that you are doing it wrong? Prepare the latkes in advance and freeze them. When ready to serve, pop them in the oven. They will be extra crispy.
That way you won’t spend fun family time crawling through the attic searching for them. Create new decorations with guests and start a holiday tradition that your company will look forward to when they visit year after year. Most stores offer little in terms of Chanukah decorations. Shop online now to ensure your decorations (and gifts) arrive on time. ModernTribe. com offers some festive decorations and activities.
Install or check and replace the batteries in fire and carbon monoxide detectors
Make it a habit to change the batteries the night before Chanukah begins or cooking the oil-rich latkes and jelly donuts. Test each smoke detector after changing the battery. Make sure the alarm can be heard from all parts of the house.
If using an electric menorah, be sure the plug and cord are in good condition. For a non-electric menorah, place it out of the reach of small children and curious pets. The flames from lighted candles and oils can burn tots and pets and create a fire hazard threatening the safety of other members of the household. If you place a lighted menorah near a window, pull back draperies and remove other flammable objects. Keep a fire extinguisher nearby. Never leave a candle-lit menorah unattended or let children light the candles unsupervised.
If you heat your home with a gas furnace or use other gas appliances at home, install carbon monoxide detectors near every bedroom — including the guest room. If you already have them, replace the batteries — you need fresh ones twice a year. Buy extra batteries when you buy those needed for the gifts. JN
for the first time in 2003. We decided the bobblehead was sort of cool, and the [Milwaukee] Brewers and Bucks and local soccer and hockey teams were giving out bobbleheads. So we started to circle the bobblehead dates on the calendar, since we were already going to several games a year anyway as big sports fans. The collection sort of grew from that.
How did this interest turn into the world’s only bobblehead museum?
The collection grew out of traveling. We went on a journey to try to go to all the Major League Baseball stadiums, and as we traveled we’d go to different museums in local places. Several times we’d either go to the stores in the area of the stadium, or antique malls, and just pick up some bobbleheads from the area to bring back.
Acrochet museum in Joshua Tree, California features countless crochet animals that appear in airport ads worldwide. The National Mustard Museum in Wisconsin was founded by a Jewish condiment aficionado.
In February 2019, another niche museum opened around 90 miles east of the mustard mecca: the National Bobblehead Hall of Fame and Museum, located in Milwaukee.
Co-founded by Phil Sklar, a Jewish Illinois native, and his friend Brad Novak, the institution is the world’s only museum dedicated to bobbleheads. Its collection holds 7,000 unique bobbleheads, including some manufactured by Sklar and Novak. Bobbleheads date back to the late
1700s, Sklar explained in an interview with the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. A famous painting of Queen Charlotte — a replica of which hangs in the bobblehead museum — shows two figurines behind the monarch, with heads that bobble.
Fast forward to 2021, when the museum has unveiled its first-ever Chanukah items: a Bobble Menorah that features nine bobbling “flames” (sans real fire, of course) and comes in three color patterns, and a Bobble Dreidel on a gelt-shaped base.
“Having the candles with the flame bobbling and the dreidel on a spring, we thought was pretty unique,” said Sklar. “It was something that was
tasteful and that people would enjoy displaying on Chanukah, or with their Judaica collection.”
JTA spoke to Sklar about how a unique collection turned into a one-of-a-kind museum, how he uses bobbleheads for a good cause and, of course, which famous Jews have their own bobbleheads.
With any collection like this, the first question has to be: How did you get into bobbleheads?
My dad collected baseball cards, and he got me into collecting when I was growing up. Brad was working for a minor league baseball team in the early 2000s, and they gave away a bobblehead
Before we knew it, we were doing some buying, trading and selling on eBay, in our free time. Then in 2013 we set out to produce a bobblehead for the first time, of a friend of ours who was a manager for the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee sports teams, and also a Special Olympian. We thought it would be a cool way to honor him. During that process we realized there was a need in the market, an opportunity to produce bobbleheads — people or things that otherwise haven’t had bobbleheads produced — and market them.
At the time, our collection was numbering in the 3,000 range. I don’t even know how we got that many. We were running out of room for them. It’s a lot easier to store 3,000 baseball cards — you can get one box and store them. But 3,000 bobbleheads take up a lot more room. We started brainstorming, and realized, hey, there’s no museum in the world dedicated to bobbleheads. There’s museums dedicated to mustard and spam,
and a bunch of other random things. So we started to do market research on the museum side, and in November 2014 was when we announced the idea for the museum.
Tell me about the collection. How many bobbleheads do you have now, and what are some of the highlights?
We have 7,000 unique bobbleheads on display in the museum. The collection itself is now numbering in the 10,00011,000 range. We’re getting in new bobbleheads pretty much daily. There are teams sending them in, organizations, people across the country. It’s really everything from sports to pop culture, politics, music, movies, TV, comics. Really anything and everything that can be turned into a bobblehead, including the menorah and the dreidel.
Do you have a personal favorite bobblehead?
The one of [our friend] Michael is sort of the one that sparked the whole idea for the museum, so that’s my sentimental favorite. He’s also Jewish. We didn’t meet because of being Jewish, we just saw him around campus when we started going to school and got to know him. Then we got to know his family, and found out we went to the same congregation.
What has the reception been to the museum? How did the pandemic impact your work?
We’ve been blown away by the reception. We’ve had visitors from all 50 states and I think 25 different countries.
We opened on Feb. 1, 2019, and then closed for about 14-and-a-half months in March 2020 because of the pandemic. Luckily we were able to produce a ton of bobbleheads during that time. In the beginning of April was the first Dr. [Anthony] Fauci bobblehead. That one became our best-selling bobblehead within like a week. Now we’ve raised over $300,000 for Protect the Heroes, which is administered by the American Hospital Association to get resources to first responders. So we
were able to keep busy, keep everybody employed that works for us, and also do something for a good cause during the pandemic.
With some unique collections, there can be subcultures that develop within particular groups — the cultlike popularity of the band Phish among Jews comes to mind. Is there any bobblehead subculture that you’ve seen?
There definitely are various bobblehead subcultures. There’s definitely people out there who collect Jewish figures and bobbleheads. Or usually it’s their favorite team or player. There are definitely Grateful Dead [bobbleheads] — quite a few different bobbleheads, and people try to collect all of them. There are people who are political, they want all the presidential- or historical-related.
The Wisconsin Jewish Chronicle did a story, and we sent them pictures of the different Jews that have been depicted in bobbleheads: Sandy Koufax, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, a member of KISS, a wide variety of people. It’s sort of fun to see, there’s more [Jews] than we had anticipated when we were going through the list.
How do you decide who to make?
Every day we’re coming up with new ideas. Staying in tune with the news, social media and trending topics is definitely helpful. But then we have a long list of general ideas. Like, there hasn’t been a turkey bobblehead in a long time, and we have a series of bobbleheads where holiday characters are sitting on a shelf. So we have a turkey on a shelf coming out for Thanksgiving. Things like that, we’ll identify sometimes years in advance. A lot of them take some time to come to fruition. But it’s more, what do we think people will enjoy or buy? And we go from there.
How did you decide to create the Chanukah bobbles? What is your goal with the products?
It was probably around this time last year, sort of close to Chanukah, and we
were thinking, there hasn’t really been anything Chanukah-related when it comes to bobbleheads. And I mentioned to my aunt who lives in Omaha, she works at the [Jewish Community Center] in childcare there, and she really liked the idea and mentioned it to a few other family members and they thought it was pretty cool. So we had a rendering made, and we went through some different iterations of the design, and thought, yeah, this would be pretty cool.
You go to Target or different stores, and you see a little small display of Chanukahrelated merchandise and then aisles of Christmas stuff. We could definitely help increase that assortment. They’re not going to be at Target or Walmart this year, but it could be something that in future years could be added to that assortment for a broader audience to see and to purchase.
Are there any other Jewish holidays that you think would be particularly conducive for a bobble?
Yeah, I think my aunt actually sent a list. There were some characters like Judah Maccabee. We could do Purim. We’re sort of waiting to see how the Chanukah bobbleheads go. There’s also some other fun things that we could turn into bobbles. A bobble hamantaschen just came to mind. But I don’t know, it might get people to try to eat it or something. We’ll put a warning on the package.
A lot of your products and launches are connected to charities. Why is it important to you to use the bobbleheads to support these causes? Does your Jewish identity have any impact on that?
I think it probably does have something to do with my upbringing. Being taught to give back, and taught about tzedakah [charity]. And we’ve seen other bobblehead companies start to do the same thing, and they hadn’t done it in the past, so I think we’ve actually inspired other people. We’re not doing it to boost the sales, but we’ve seen that when it has that good cause, it can definitely help boost the sales and boost the excitement around it as well. But we’re really doing it to give back to causes and to get people engaged.
Is the Chanukah launch connected to a charity?
We haven’t connected this one to anything as of yet, but we’ve done things after the fact as well. Bernie Sanders, we did the inauguration bobblehead with his mittens, and we didn’t realize it was going to take off like crazy. We ended up making a five-figure donation to Meals on Wheels Vermont, which is the cause that he donated to from the proceeds of the mittens. There’s a good chance we’ll do something after the fact. JN
Sfrom New York City, made it through my entire childhood without attending a single b’nai mitzvah.
I don’t know how I managed this feat, but I know that there certainly were a few influential factors: I never had a bat mitzvah myself — I never even attended Hebrew school. My parents did not force me to go — not because they did not want me to, but because they did not want me to view Judaism as something obligatory. I didn’t have many Jewish friends close to home. And I sadly suspect that younger Jane already felt too “othered” by her Jewishness to consider studying the Torah.
In an entirely secular sense, I grew up with intense bat mitzvah envy. As someone who had only recently entered the narcissistic stage of adolescence, nothing sounded better than having a party dedicated to me. I spent my seventh grade summer envying my camp friends, who told me all about their extravagant, under-the-sea-themed celebrations, and wondered (for, objectively, the “wrong” reasons), why I had chosen not to attend Hebrew school.
After that summer, though, my envy quickly dissipated and was replaced with somewhat of an indifference — that is, until the summer of my 20th year. My downstairs neighbors, a large, Chasidic family, have always tried to cultivate the small Jewish community in my neighborhood, and when their oldest daughter turned 12, I knew that I would soon be venturing into the uncharted territory of well-rehearsed Torah portions and monogrammed cake pops.
There was something strangely comfortable about attending my first bat mitzvah as a young adult: I got to enter it with a confidence that I would not have possessed when I was bat-mitzvah-age. Invitations for the celebration were only extended to women and girls, and I remember the feeling of standing in a room full of people that, more or less, looked exactly like me.
I watched as young girls wove in between tables, wielding the same head of unruly curls that I had loathsomely straightened when
I was their age. I saw myself in their wild, unaffected laughter. Their joy was mine. After spending my adolescence feeling somewhat unlike the rest of the girls at my middle school, I felt a sense of retroactive comfort as I placed a younger version of myself in this picture of carefree Jewish girls.
Similarly, I saw the older women there as future projections and possibilities of what and who I could become. From the older, “all-knowing” sage figures to the youthful and outspoken post-graduates, I was constantly reminded that there is not one single way to be a Jewish woman. With every unique but still unmistakably Jewish personality that I crossed, I grew more excited about the kind of Jewish woman that I will become.
As the night went on, I found myself struggling with a new kind of envy. It was not one of missing my own bat mitzvah, but, instead, one of missing the opportunity to come of age in a community of Jewish women. As someone who is not fervently religious, I expected to feel out of place at my first bat mitzvah. Instead, I was the most comfortable that I had ever been in a room of mostly strangers; they did not feel like strangers. Even at this relatively small gathering, there was a sense of unspoken understanding that could only have existed because we shared the same keystone of our identities. For the first time in my adult life, the concept of womanhood — and of being, in all senses of the word, a woman — did not intimidate me.
Near the end of the night, the bat mitzvah’s mother and sisters told her, “You are the newest link in Jewish history.” There was power in their words: The bat mitzvah’s emergence into womanhood made me think twice about my own existence and the role that I have played, currently play and will play in the story of Jewish women and of Jewish people. While I still don’t know what that role will be, I now know that I have one, which is far more than I knew before attending the bat mitzvah. With the memory of this night in the back of my mind, I look forward to figuring it out — and maybe attending a few more bat mitzvahs in the future. JN
Hannah Einbinder has been taking a lot of walks. After being nominated for an Emmy earlier this year, she said her main job was “not letting my crippling anxiety ruin my life.” Her greatest salve has been walking it off, sometimes for hours.
“The key is this: If I look like I’m in physically good shape, I’m not well,” she said. Einbinder is, professionally speaking, doing quite well. The 26-year-old standup comedian turned actress scored the 2021 Emmy nomination for outstanding supporting actress in a comedy series for her role as Ava Daniels in “Hacks,” HBO Max’s dramedy about a legendary comedy diva (Jean Smart) and the 25-year-old “canceled” comedy writer who gets shuffled off to Las Vegas to liven up her set. She’s been called a “breakout star” and a “young comic on the cusp.” But via video call, Einbinder stressed that these objective wins do not make her anxiety disappear.
Like many before her, she connects some of that anxiety with the fact that she is Jewish.
“I think there is something to the idea that everything can be taken away from
you, just like that, which feeds into the idea that in a self-loathing area of consciousness, everything should be taken away from you,” she said. “And it’s, you know, hell. But again, I’m walking.”
Einbinder laughed, as she often does after delivering a devastatingly honest remark.
The Emmys wasn’t her first experience of awards show pressure. When I asked her to tell me about her bat mitzvah — from which she has shared several excellent throwback photos on her Instagram account — she warned me, “Get ready for this.”
The year was 2008. The theme was “Hannah Einbinder’s First Annual Friendship Awards,” and it was, indeed, structured as an awards ceremony.
“The stars were out that night on the pink carpet,” Einbinder said, gleaming. “My dad’s friends all pretended to be paparazzi, and all my 13-year-old weirdo friends were severely uncomfortable being photographed.”
In true inclusive L.A. fashion, her friends took home awards (in the form of plastic trophies) that night, from “funniest friend” to “best eyes” to “coolest hair.”
She also took the main event — chanting Torah — very seriously, despite being a “notyet-medicated hyperactive kid beyond all belief.” Her parents requested the rabbi give her a shorter Torah portion because getting her to sit down and study anything was such a tremendous effort at the time.
“But I loved it. I gave it 110%,” Einbinder recalled. “I was kind of obsessed with singing in shul. I’m like V’ahavta, this is my jam.”
Einbinder was raised in Los Angeles, where her family belonged to Temple Isaiah on Pico Boulevard, a synagogue that defines itself as “at the intersection of tradition and innovation,” and which the comedian described as a “super hippie L.A. temple, incredibly inclusive and cool and queer and diverse.” (She said this while holding her pointer and pinky finger in the rock-on sign.)
“For me, Judaism has always been music and dance and art and love and all of these really amazing, positive things.”
Growing up, she often visited family on the East Coast to celebrate the High Holidays, and did Shabbat with challah and grape juice — noting “it wasn’t anywhere near shomer
Shabbos.” Still, it wasn’t just the culture of Judaism that drew in Einbinder.
“I’ve been religious since I was a child. I have had a personal connection to God since I was a kid,” she said.
Her belief in what she calls “the big H” (as in, you know, Hashem) is a departure from the rest of her family, which includes her sibling, Spike Einbinder, a fellow comedian. But the concept of a higher power — and spirituality in general — was always around. Both her parents, comedian Laraine Newman, an original cast member on “Saturday Night Live,” and comedy writer Chad Einbinder were in Alcoholics Anonymous.
“I think they especially wanted to give [the concept of a higher power] to me young because they felt that, much like the origins of Judaism, it was a way to structure life,” Einbinder said.
If Judaism was one of the languages her family spoke, comedy was the other mother tongue, equally formative and rich. Unsurprisingly, Einbinder’s parents started
SEE EINBINDER, PAGE 24
sharing the great Jewish comedians with her at a very young age. Funny people like Mel Brooks, Carl Reiner and Joan Rivers, who provided at least some of the inspiration for Smart’s character in “Hacks,” Deborah Vance.
“It was so much about getting a laugh out of my parents, that was the affirmation,” Einbinder said of her childhood. “It wasn’t grades, or athleticism, or really any of that. It was laughs.”
But despite being steeped (or as she says, “indoctrinated”) in humor growing up, she had no plans to pursue it professionally. It wasn’t until college, at Chapman University in Orange County, that Einbinder fell into improv and later the standup comedy scene. She’s been open about the somewhat tumultuous path she took to get there after being diagnosed with attention deficit disorder and spending years as “a highly medicated teen.”
“In college, I was taking a lot of Adderall and smoking weed every day, constantly,” she recalled. “For several years of my life, I was in an altered state. I was not myself. I still had a tiny bit of me, but it was probably like 90% drugs, 10% Hannah.”
That all shifted when Einbinder was on a film set one day and a guy (whom she thought was cute) told her that she was funny, suggesting she try out for the school’s improv team. Someone else proposed she take a day off Adderall to see if it would help. Long story short: She made the team; she stopped doing drugs; she got a chance to try standup while opening for Nicole Byer’s campus show; she realized “improv is for nerds, this is where it’s at.”
Making the transition from standup to acting in “Hacks” was terrifying, she said.
“I was so worried that I would f— it up. And so worried, almost until the last week of shooting, honestly, that I was not honoring the vision of [creators] Paul [Downs], Lucia [Aniello] and Jen [Statsky], despite constant affirmation,” she said. “I was like, they gotta say that. They were so lovely and supportive, and my demons were on call 24 hours a day, just blocking any sort of goodness that seeped into my conscious mind.”
You wouldn’t know any demons were afoot on set when watching Einbinder as Ava on screen. She exudes the perfect Gen Z elixir:
of true vulnerability — like when Ava returns home after a family tragedy, and in the fleeting moments when she’s able to poke through Deborah’s hard-fought, tough as (manicured) nails exterior. It was those moments for which Einbinder was most grateful.
“As a comedian, I really crave the ability to be sincere in my art form, and acting — especially in a dark comedy, the way that this is — and having those darker, more sincere moments is a form of self-expression that I didn’t know I needed, but I do,” she said.
Einbinder gets most sincere when talking about her Jewish identity and what it means to her now as an adult. She’s wearing her signature Star of David necklace, the one that can be seen in pretty much every photo taken of her, and which she wore during her recent appearance on “The Late Show With Stephen Colbert.” She pondered whether if it’s an aesthetic choice or something deeper.
“I think it’s both,” she decided. “I think it’s gorgeous, and I also think that, based on various antisemitic ideas about what a Jew looks like, it’s important to make it very clear that we can be anything; we are everything.”
Einbinder has fine red hair — not the boisterous dark curls often used to portray Jewish identity, especially in Hollywood —
and she revealed that a lot of the antisemitism she’s experienced, especially in college, came from people assuming she wasn’t Jewish and therefore confiding their sinister thoughts to her.
Antisemitism is one of the many reasons that Einbinder stays off Twitter, the platform where her character in “Hacks” made a joke in poor taste, leading to her career’s temporary plummet.
“When you tweet about antisemitism, or really anything Jewish, the Nazis find you on there,” she said. “It’s not like I couldn’t deal with the messages. I was just like, I’m outta here. What does this do, really, for me? Thus far, not a lot of Nazis on Instagram finding me, so that’s cute.”
Einbinder posted about the rise in antisemitic attacks in the country last December, a poignant message accompanied by a menorah with candles lit for the sixth night of Chanukah. That same menorah sits on a bookshelf in her home.
“It’s a tough time right now, so it’s been really about reaching out and making new friends and connecting over this thing that we share that is unequivocally a part of us, whether you observe or you don’t,” she said of her present-day connection to Judaism. “I think of it in my everyday life as my safety. The people I’m safe with. [I’m] trying to create that environment for my friends and
family, and trying to keep my eyes on the streets, so to speak, making sure that I’m educating myself around what’s going on and speaking out against it. I don’t see any other option, personally.”
Her face brightens when talking about the connections with fellow queer Jews she’s made, especially during the pandemic, especially online.
“To have people who I feel like I can relate to on both of those levels at the same time is like … a Jew? Dayenu. A queer Jew? Baruch Hashem,” she said.
Einbinder gets verklempt when it's pointed out that it’s been 13 years since her bat mitzvah, essentially meaning this year is her bat mitzvah’s bar mitzvah.
“Oh my God, oh my God, what are we going to do?” she cried, bringing her hands to her temples. “Oh, we have the Emmys this year, so it’s the same thing!”
Einbinder wiped her eyes, perhaps a little teary at the thought of a gold-winged woman taking the place of the plastic trophies of yore.
But from her answers, Einbinder was ready for the spotlight long before she stood up in front of a congregation. She made sure to share a video that she was sent the day before. She held up her phone to the Zoom screen to show something “fully psychotic.” What appears is young Hannah, maybe 9 or so years old, hair pulled back to reveal ears she hasn’t grown into yet. Her bold child-newscaster voice announces, “Hi, we’re here live on the scene at Spencer’s bar mitzvah. Let’s have a few people talk to ya! Come right this way.”
She proceeds to interview her parents, attendants at a neighbor boy’s celebration. Her mother wishes Spencer a “happy bar mitzvah.” Her father offers some show business technique on the fly — hold the microphone a little lower — before joking that he came to the event to get some good contacts for photographers and videographers.
Even at that age, Einbinder oozes confidence and stage presence. Adult Einbinder watches, her hand over her mouth in shock and delight. We get one more shot of the budding performer, an extreme close-up with a direct address to the camera, her freckled face filled with pride.
“I’m Hannah Einbinder,” she said. “Thank you and goodnight.” JN
This article first appeared on Alma.
On Nov. 1, antisemitic flyers were found on the Tempe campus of Arizona State University for the third time in three years. Despite the chilling effect this may have had on some Jewish students, the university boasts a wide variety of Jewish organizations that try to include all students looking for some kind of community, regardless of religious beliefs.
Some of these groups are considered more religious, whereas others are more for socializing. But no matter their focus, all claim to accept anyone who walks in their doors, no matter their religion.
Cristina Aguilar, an ASU graduate student studying speech and hearing sciences, went to Hillel at ASU for the first time in September with a friend and was overwhelmed by the enthusiastic response she received.
“They’re really welcoming,” she said.
Aguilar found Judaism fascinating and decided to return to Hillel to learn and experience more. She now enjoys spending Shabbat at Hillel, and especially likes how the traditional Friday night dinner brings people together as friends and family. She described Rabbi Suzy Stone, Hillel’s campus rabbi, as someone who prioritizes making everyone feel comfortable and welcome.
“Rabbi Suzy takes the time to go around and talk to everyone and get to know them a little better,” she said.
Aguilar said she feels a connection with the Jewish community and appreciates how it accepted her at events and holidays without hesitation.
“They know I’m not Jewish, and they still invite me to events,” she said. “I’ve made a lot of Jewish friends this semester.”
Ella Lowder, an ASU sophomore studying anthropology, attended her first Shabbat dinner at Chabad of ASU when friends convinced her to join them.
“It was super welcoming,” she said. “I didn’t really have any expectations.”
She said that nobody questioned why she was there, and the atmosphere made her feel accepted. She said she would be interested in returning to Chabad.
Lowder began her Jewish experience at ASU when she started eating at the kosher bistro on campus.
“I started going to the kosher dining hall about a month ago, and now, on average, I go about four to five times a week,” she said.
Lowder said she meets friends at the bistro or studies there almost every night. She describes her friendships with Jews as “very nice” and said that they will always explain what a Hebrew or Jewish term means when she does not understand.
“The general fear with a lot of religious people is that they will be unwelcoming to non-religious people, but that has not been my experience at all,” Lowder said.
Abdullah Zia, a junior at ASU studying industrial engineering, started eating at the kosher bistro in his freshman year in an attempt to uphold the Muslim custom of halal.
“Anything that’s kosher is mostly halal,” he said.
Simply by eating at the bistro he hit it off with some Jewish students.
“I made Jewish friends eating at the bistro and a lot of them welcomed me to come and see the Jewish culture and learn more about the religion,” he said.
Zia has since attended events at Hillel at ASU and Chabad at ASU and goes to Jewish holiday events regularly.
He said he has always felt welcome in the Jewish community and feels like he has formed a bond with Jews on campus.
“I’ve had good connections with them, and I would like to say I actively engage with them,” he said.
Zia said that sitting together and having fun can bring you closer together but eating together is the way to make connections that last.
“(Our) communities tend to bond over food,” he said.
Zia said that many of his friends are Jews, and the fact that he is not Jewish has never been a problem.
“I am a Muslim in faith,” Zia said. “But my community on campus is Jewish.” JN
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Rebecca Wolf remembers when she first learned about the Holocaust. She was about 8 or 9 years old and in Hebrew school.
“I don’t think that my parents were informed that they were going to be teaching us about it that day. And I remember being really traumatized and horrified about it,” she said.
She doesn’t want the same for her kids, ages 5 and 6, and is already thinking about how she and her husband will talk about antisemitism with them.
“We just want to make sure that they establish a really strong Jewish identity and really love Judaism and feel confident in who they are and have the emotional maturity to understand those issues before we really introduce any information about antisemitism or the Holocaust,” she said.
Jewish parents have been having these conversations — how to talk to their kids about antisemitism — more and more over the last year as antisemitic outbursts circulated online and physical attacks occurred, especially after last spring's violence in the Middle East.
Rabbi Mendy Deitsch of Chabad of the East Valley has nine kids between 8 and 23 years old. He’s had many of these conversations.
He and his wife try not to focus on antisemitism when they speak to their children, but rather their kids’ selfconfidence, Deitsch said.
“When someone does something antisemitic, instead of you hiding and running away, you should stand strong,” he said. “If you have a certain self-confidence — you know who you are, you know where you’re going — then don’t worry about anything else happening around you.”
His older children have experienced antisemitism directly. Recently his 16-year-old daughter attending high school in New York, experienced it — and was “shaken.”
“I tried to gently explain to her that, unfortunately, in the world we live in, you have people that like you and people that don’t,” he said. “And they don’t like you not because there’s anything wrong, it’s simply they’re mostly uneducated, misinformed, misdirected.”
His kids are visibly Jewish in the clothes they wear. He often thinks about their safety, but as he tells his kids,
antisemitism is nothing new. “As long as we have faith and we’re strong and confident in who we are, don’t walk around with fear. Walk around proud, and you’ll be fine.”
Anat Schure has a 16-year old daughter and an 11-year old son.
Last spring’s violence spurred discussion in her home, especially with her daughter who was surprised to see the volume of antisemitic and anti-Israel posts on social media.
“She’s always known that it (antisemitism) occurred. But it never really hit her so personally until recently because of how people were reacting to Israel on social media,” she said.
Schure helped her daughter process her feelings and did her best to remind her that what’s online is not fully representative.
“While she may be flooded with one side at the moment, she needs to keep in mind that there is another side that does support the Jewish people, that does support Israel and helping the Palestinian people,” she said. “Unfortunately, the anti-Israel, anti-Jewish comments were louder than those supportive of Israel and helping the Palestinians.”
The conversations with her son were more about making him aware that antisemitism exists and could happen, even in his own community.
“I personally think there’s a way to be transparent with your kids in an age-appropriate way,” she said.
Jennifer Starrett is having “open and honest ageappropriate conversations” with her 7-year-old son.
Growing up, her parents didn’t really talk to her about antisemitism. “I never even knew or really believed that there is this much hate in the world.”
With kids of their own, Starrett and her husband feel strongly about having the difficult conversations, even at a young age, especially since Starrett is “pretty out there in the Jewish community” as a social media influencer.
She began educating her son about hate last year as the Black Lives Matter movement became more known. She told him how some people dislike others based only on the color of their skin or their religion.
She explained to him that “as someone who is Jewish, and people know that you’re Jewish, you might hear people talking badly.” She also told him it is important to let an adult know if he hears anything like that.
Starrett’s son could tell his parents were concerned during the conflict in Israel, so she talked to him about their family in Israel and that Israel is a Jewish state.
She tried to frame the conversation in a positive way — around what can be done. She talked about the importance of being proud of being Jewish, and making sure their friends know that just because they’re Jewish, they aren’t so different from anyone else.
Even with her 3-year-old daughter, Starrett tries to focus on similarities.
“When the kids say, “Oh, that’s different,’ we try to turn it around and think about what is similar,” she said.
Hillel Newman, Consul General of Israel to the Pacific Southwest of the United States, told Jewish News it is a scary time and every parent has to decide for themselves what works best for their kids and family.
The rise of antisemitism is “of course, a grave concern,” he said.”When people legitimize indiscriminate attacks against Jews in Israel, the result will be indiscriminate attacks against Jews on the streets of the United States.” Newman, who lives in Los Angeles, has an 11-year-old son. “My son lives the reality. He understands what’s going on,” he said. Newman said he is glad his son is proud of his Judaism and proud of being an Israeli. JN
Sid Horwitz, 68, died Nov. 8, 2021. He was born in Cleveland and lived in Scottsdale.
He is survived by his spouse, Jody; his sons, Brian and Justin; and five grandchildren. Arrangements by Sinai Mortuary.
Luba Teeman, 92, died Oct. 12, 2021. She was born in Chicago and lived in Scottsdale.
She is survived by her daughter, Melissa Mitchell; her son, Jeff Teeman; and five grandchildren.
Services were held at Sinai Mortuary. Arrangements by Sinai Mortuary. JN
Jack Everett Koslow, of St. Louis Park, Minnesota, passed peacefully on Nov. 11, 2021. His 90 years of life were filled with kindness and good thoughts and he served as an example of integrity for all who were fortunate to know him. Born on January 31, 1931, to Mary and Joseph Koslow in St. Louis, he married Debby Turken on Oct. 23, 1952. He is survived by his sister, Jill Schwartz; his daughter, Sherrie Klikus; and her children, Ty Klikus (Melody), Kelsi Yazzie (Coye); and his son, Steve Koslow (Candace); and their children, Cameron (Lorena), Colleen Jessessky (Matt), Nykoli and Andrew. Jack was preceded in death by Debby, who passed on May 23, 1993.
On Aug. 4, 1996, Jack married Sue Ehrenreich and became part of a new family in Phoenix. Jack is also survived by Jim Ehrenreich (Julie) and their children, Brandon and Adam (Julie); Robert Ehrenreich (Mona, z“l) and their children, Matthew and Andie; Joan Lipson (Robert) and their children, Jacob, Gabrielle, Ethan and Stella; Lynn Running (Clifford) and their son, Max. Jack was also preceded in death by Sue, who passed on Feb. 5, 2018.
In his youth Jack enjoyed serving as an usher at the Muny Opera and working at the ice rink. He completed his undergraduate degree at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, then serving two years in the Navy as a lieutenant. Afterward, he obtained his law degree at Washington University. He practiced law in St. Louis for many years and served as the city magistrate judge in Creve Coeur, Missouri. When Sherrie and Steve were young he was the announcer at swim meets and a regular teacher of comparative religions at Temple B’nai El. He helped build and run Debby’s Swim School, one of the first of its kind in St. Louis. He traveled often, learning Spanish to enjoy his many trips to Mexico. He and Sue also traveled to annual reunions of former Navy vets who also served on the U.S.S. James C. Owens. While living in Cave Creek, he often volunteered at the local library. Jack could often be found enjoying his daily cigar, reading the paper, completing crossword puzzles and savoring his favorite homemade chocolate chip cookies.
A private family service was held at Sholom West on Friday, Nov. 12, 2021. In lieu of, or in addition to, any charitable donations, our father and grandfather would be honored if you simply reached out a hand of kindness and understanding to those whose lives you have the great fortune to touch every day.
Rabbi Barton Lee, 79, was a mensch. Barton passed away Monday, Oct. 11, 2021. His loss leaves an enormous void, which can never be filled.
Barton is survived by his wife, Marcie; his children, Noam (Stephanie Atlas) and Nira (David Eisenbise); grandson, Julian; brother, Carl Lee (Barbara Lee); and brother-in-law, David Schoenberg (Leslie Schoenberg); nieces and nephews; and the countless people he touched.
Born and raised in Texas, Barton always knew he wanted to be a rabbi. Upon graduating from Stanford, he attended Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati. After his mustache froze while he was an assistant rabbi in Chicago, Barton moved to Tempe in 1972 for a two-year stint to thaw out as Hillel at ASU’s rabbi. He finished two years...and stayed another 40. He met Marcie in 1975 and, with her at his side, took Hillel at ASU from a room in a church to the Mill Avenue sanctuary for Jewish students, which stands today. His students loved and admired him. He wasn’t just a director. He was, in every sense, their rabbi. He and Marcie created the Hillel Teaching Scholars, training students to become religious school teachers. He mentored hundreds of students to become Jewish professionals, impacting generations of Jewish minds. He led prayer on the floor of Congress. He uplifted students and friends during the best and worst times, officiating at weddings, namings and funerals. Listing his achievements would fill the pages of many books.
He reveled in the Hebrew language, earning a Doctorate of Hebrew Letters. Israelis were in awe of his “real” Hebrew. When Nira would teach him new, anglicized Hebrew words like “telephone,” he’d grumble and continue using Ben-Yehuda’s “sach-rachok,” not caring that literally nobody says that anymore. Nira finally came around when she earned a near perfect score on the IDF’s vocabulary test as a result.
He had a profound love of opera and was often found in his study, humming off-tune, pecking away with one finger at his keyboard and waving his baton to Puccini as he wrote High Holiday sermons.
He loved being in Israel. Physically following in the footsteps of our patriarchs and matriarchs gave him an extra spring in his step. He loved to explore the land with friends, sip hot sahlab and tour the local wineries. He’d stay up all night sipping liqueur with his students on Birthright, regaling them with tales of Israel of old.
He believed in the power of words and chose his carefully. After 30+ years of work, he published a children’s book with his beloved friend, Rabbi Roy Walter. “My Prayers,” with editions for both Jewish and non-Jewish children, embodies his passion for words of praise.
Barton was an original, true social justice rabbi. He preached and practiced Derech Eretz—texts he translated for his doctorate. He believed in doing good for the sake of being good, never for recognition. He never cared to flaunt his achievements or awards and lived his life with unparalleled humility. Yet he never took himself too seriously. His bad jokes were legendary. He sported a beer helmet and enormous tie while reading the Megillah; his tie collection drew compliments from everyone -- including President Biden.
Barton loved nothing more than being a husband, abba and sabba. While Barton still had many plans, he lived to officiate both of his children’s weddings and his grandson’s naming ceremony. He watched in awe as Noam introduced him to governors and senators, and crossed the finish line in Marathons. He proudly pinned on Nira’s bars at army promotion ceremonies in Israel.
Barton believed in us all doing our part; in being a listener rather than just a speaker; in being gracious rather than jealous (though he was jealous of rabbis he deemed good singers). In our duty to protect each other, to get vaccinated, to stand against antisemitism and all forms of hate.
Perhaps most telling is that four rabbis co-officiated his funeral. And after everyone departed, several of his students dismissed the cemetery staff and stayed in the scorching sun to fill his grave themselves.
The Mishnah tells us, “Make for yourself a teacher, acquire for yourself a friend.” This was Barton for thousands of people. And we, his family, are the luckiest of all.
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