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August 15, 2002

Dosvedanya, Shalom, Guten Tag

When Misha Zilbermint was 11 years old, he was stunned to learn from his parents that he was Jewish. Growing up in the former Soviet Union, Jews, such as the Zilbermint family, could not openly embrace their religion or culture.

"In the Soviet Union, everyone was the same," recalls Zilbermint, 23, who hails from Moldova.

Twelve years later, Zilbermint has come to Simi Valley, where, among his peers, he wears a kippah and freely partakes in Jewish traditions.

Zilbermint — who, since embracing his Jewish roots, became a Hillel coordinator and a guitarist in the Jewish rock band King David — is one of nearly two dozen international students on full scholarships enrolled in a Jewish summer program at Brandeis-Bardin Institute (BBI). The August Aliyah, part of BBI’s Brandeis Collegiate Institute (BCI), is one of two summer sessions integrating these visitors, ranging in age from 18-26, with their American peers. The international group comprises about one-third of the 61 BCI students.

"We’ve always had students from different countries," says Joseph Wapner, also known as Judge Wapner of "People’s Court" fame, who served as BBI’s president from 1993-1999 and, with wife, Mickey, is a longtime supporter and advocate of the institute.

The program, now in its 55th year, has always had international students. But this year, the 20 young adults — from Israel, Canada, Switzerland, Portugal, Slovakia, Uzbekistan, Russia, Germany, Argentina and Switzerland — are coming from a radically changed environment: post-Sept. 11, with anti-Semitism and anti-Israel sentiments raging.

"We’ve energized them, giving them a new perspective on their Judaism," BBI Director Dr. Lee Bycel says. "Some of them are very observant, some have never been to a synagogue before. At the same time, we’re letting the Americans know that there is Jewish life [abroad]."

The experience is not meant to make them want to move to America, he said, but to reinforce and expand their Jewish identity. The idea is for participants to take their experience back to their respective countries and engage other Jews in a Jewish experience, as well as bring new students to the BCI program.

"They’re proud of the countries they live in," Bycel says, "but they’re yearning for the kind of community they find at BBI."

Rabbi Scott Aaron, BBI’s director of education, adds: "It’s important to note we’re a gateway program; you can only attend once. It’s not like camp."

But on this sunny Thursday afternoon it does seem like camp. The BCI students — who for weeks have been involved in daily workshops concentrating on fine arts, creative writing, music, drama and dance — are readying to perform in the evening’s multitiered arts festival. These workshops give the students the structure to incorporate lessons gleaned from Jewish study and cultural activities into self-expression.

One of the creative writing participants, Gregor Wettberg, is a tall, intense young man with reddish hair, who wears a kippah. Wettberg is a proud Jew from Hanover, Germany. In a city with only 350 Jews left, he has started a progressive Jewish organization.

"As anti-Semitism rises, I think it’s no better or worse [than in other countries]," Wettberg says about Germany. "It’s better than in other countries, because there is no right-wing movement. The younger generations have a more forward-thinking attitude. I feel that a lot of Germans are very sensitive — too sensitive — regarding the Jews."

"It kind of surprised me," Israeli Eliraz Shor says. "I always thought that every Jew in the world dreams to go to Israel. But it’s not that way. A lot of Jews around the world are happy where they live."

"I come from a place where everyone is Jewish," she adds. "I don’t have any non-Jewish friends. This [program] has really opened a window for the rest of the world."

Julia Mozesova of Slovakia realized something about the religion itself.

"If I don’t practice, don’t go to synagogue, don’t pray, it doesn’t mean I’m a bad Jew," says the 21-year-old, who came to BCI courtesy of B’nai B’rith of England.

The international students are not the only ones learning. Their presence has been illuminating for the Americans as well.

Monica Glatt from Baltimore made friends with her roommate, Anna Berezina from Siberia.

"I didn’t know there were going to be so many international students," Glatt, 23, says, "but living with them has opened my mind."

Many of the U.S. BCIers echoed the sentiments of 19-year-old Rachel Rabinovich of Newton, Mass. — that living among the international contingent has revitalized their appreciation of Judaism.

"I’ve learned that I’m blessed to be in a country that allows me to be a Jew," Rabinovich says — a feeling that was reinforced by the July 31 bombing at Hebrew University, which occurred during their July 17-Aug. 11 session.

For three and a half weeks, under the guidance of writer-in-residence Stephen Hazan Arnoff, Wettberg has spent 90 minutes a day in intensive creative writing workshops, writing in what for him is a foreign language. He has learned to craft and hone his verse in English.

Finally, the moment in the hour-long program arrives when it is Wettberg’s turn to read his writing before a room of 100 people. He stands tall and, despite a technical interruption, delivers his verse in a confident, flawless English:

And God looked at mankind.

She observed them.

He watched them.

It gazed upon them.

And for the first time in eternity remained silent in shame.

Later, on the way to watch Zilbermint and others perform the dance presentation, Wettberg reflects on his reading.

"It was a challenge to speak in another language other than my mother tongue," Wettberg says, adding that he is satisfied with the way things went. Then he breaks into a smile. "My next goal is to read something in Hebrew, which I wrote," he says.

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Women Unite for Israel

Yehudit Eichenblatt wanted to do her part for Israel, but she just wasn’t sure exactly what that should be. She had been to protests outside of the Federal Building; written letters to President Bush, Prime Minister Ariel Sharon and former Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu; and attended every Israel solidarity rally held in Los Angeles, but nothing, it seemed, was helping.

"People were still dying every day," said the 36-year-old mother of six from Hancock Park.

So Eichenblatt decided that a different tack was needed. Together with her colleagues from her Yeshiva organization, Bais Chana of California, Eichenblatt has organized a Day of Unity — a spiritual gathering for Jewish women from all religious affiliations, political spectrums and levels of observance in Los Angeles, to come together in support of Israel.

"Ever since I started working with women, I always wanted to do something that would unite Jewish women, and I realized that Israel is the cause that would make people come together," Eichenblatt said. "I think that spiritually we can be doing much more, and affecting the situation more than we are politically, and coming together in unity has a very strong spiritual impact, and more good will come out in the future with women doing good deeds."

Eichenblatt and her team of volunteers sent out invitations to all 700 Jewish organizations, synagogues and schools that are listed on The Jewish Federation’s Web site, and then followed up with phone calls.

"So far, the response has been great," Eichenblatt said. "The Hadassah women in Huntington Beach called and said they were coming. People from Sinai Temple are coming. Mordecai Finley from Ohr Hatorah is promoting it for us. Temple Emmanuel, Aish HaTorah, Anshei Emes, Torah Ohr, Bais Yehudah, Chabad houses from all over Los Angeles — they all say that they love the idea and are going to come."

The event, which will be held on Aug. 18 at the Women’s Club in Hollywood, is purposely not being held in a synagogue. "I did not want to alienate people, and that is why I am doing it in a ‘pareve’ place that is not affiliated with anything," Eichenblatt said.

While there are no speakers planned for the event — again, because Eichenblatt did not want to turn it into a political rally — there are workshops scheduled, with topics such as "Whose Land Is It? A Historical, Biblical and Practical Perspective of Jewish Rights" and "Finding God During a Terrorist Attack." There will also be an opportunity to write Rosh Hashana cards to Israel Defense Forces soldiers and terror victims, and a video presentation prepared by Mimi Baron Jankowitz on her visits with the families of terror victims.

"We are also going to be led in song, we are going to say psalms, we are going to dance and we are preparing a lot of food." Eichenblatt said.

The goal of the event is to form committees of women who will want to continue doing things for terror victims throughout the year, such as sending Purim baskets, Chanukah gelt and, if possible, mezuzot and tefilin. "Mezuzot and tefilin are two things that bring spiritual protection," Eichenblatt said.

She estimates that the event is costing somewhere between $10,000 and $20,000, and so far it has all been funded by credit cards.

"I applied to the Community Foundation for a grant, but they rejected it," she said. "So we are trying to get restaurants to donate food, and all the women are working to get as much support as possible. We are doing this on a limb, but we are putting our energies into making the programs great and getting the people to come, rather than doing a lot of fundraising.

"This year in the Jewish calendar is known as a year of Hakhel — a year of uniting," she said. "I think that we have a lot of strength when we come together, and I hope that by doing so, we will be able to give hope, healing and courage to those in need."

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Circle of Friends

Growing up in Orange County, Rebecca Rona did not have a single Jewish friend. While her family practiced Judaism, her parents also encouraged a deep appreciation for other cultures. Her mother was a foreign language teacher, and her whole family was intrigued with languages. Rona still treasures a copper sculpture of an African woman that her parents displayed in their house when she was a child.

“It just really shows you how my parents thought of African people as beautiful,” she says. After exploring her own religion as a young adult, Rona became committed to improving relationships between Caucasians and people of color.

Today, Rona, now living on the Westside, founded Together, a nonprofit group dedicated to countering prejudice and racism and encouraging people of various backgrounds to understand one another and form friendships.

At a time when cultural tensions are running high, Together is one group that promotes multicultural understanding. Three times a year, Together sponsors a free five-week Friendship Circle program that attracts people of various religions, races and cultures interested in finding a connection with one another.

The spring Friendship Circle met at the Culver-Palms Family YMCA in Culver City on Saturdays. It was Together’s 11th circle since the program’s inception three years ago. Circles usually consist of 12 to 14 people. Recent participants include people from Ethiopia, Canada, El Salvador, Austria, Syria and the United States.

“I want people not only to accept each other, but to enjoy one another,” Rona says. “In the past, a lot of people came to me privately and admitted that they’d come to the circle to rid themselves of a certain prejudice.” A few years ago, a woman thanked Rona for helping her to work through her feelings of anti-Semitism.

At each meeting, participants play games and have discussions about their identities, similarities and differences, and finding solutions to help erase discrimination. During the first meeting, an introductory game demonstrated the incorrect assumptions people make about others based on appearances, which sparked a discussion on stereotypes. Sessions also focus on ideas for confronting prejudice. In another exercise, someone in the group acts as a bigot and the others must try to turn that person around in some small way.

“We talk about this to encourage people to not just hear something and remain quiet,” says Rona, who participates in every circle. “We model a certain way of dealing with these prejudicial statements.”

At the end of every meeting, a different member presents an interesting aspect of their culture to the group, be it a fact, an object or a custom.

Erbie Phillips, an African American, has been involved with Together from early on. Phillips, 45, participated in just about every circle and is now a facilitator.

“The best thing is that I’m able to communicate to my children more effectively when it comes to being tolerant of difference,” he says. Phillips says the meetings have influenced him in various parts of his life. As the new director of ancillary services for the Los Angeles County Probation Department, he feels that “my experience [with the Friendship Circle] will assist me, because it’s a multiethnic department. I’ll try to have a fresh approach to the people I meet.”

Ammar and Lobna Kahf, a young Muslim couple, are also part of the recent Friendship Circle. Ammar, an office coordinator for the Islamic Center of Hawthorne, says, “[The meetings] have helped me, because I got to a chance to know more people. Sometimes, as much as you try to know your neighbors, you don’t get much of a response. We all share the same human defects and problems and good things, too. The circle also gives me more strength in my belief in diversity.”

Rona brings her own background and beliefs to the mix. “I often share about myself, so I tell stories from my past,” she says. “I feel very strongly about tikkun olam, which means ‘repairing the world.’ When I was working to create this and to plan it, I really thought of it as my contribution and my mitzvah.”

The next Friendship Circle will begin in October. For
more information on Together, call (310) 285-3616 or e-mail TogetherCA@hotmail.com .

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‘An Uncommon Friendship’

On the lecture circuit, Bernat "Bernie" Rosner and Frederic "Fritz" Tubach make for an odd couple. Rosner, at 70, is small, compact and bald, with a fighter’s quick moves, while the gray-haired Tubach, 71, looks well-fed with a professorial air about him. Their differences, though, go much deeper than physical appearances.

In July 1944, Rosner, then a 12-year-old Jewish boy from the village of Tab, Hungary, arrived at the Auschwitz train platform with his parents and a younger brother.

The same month, Fritz Tubach, 13, was a member of the Nazi Jungvolk in the German village of Kleinheubach, ready to advance to membership in the Hitler Youth.

Tubach was actually born in San Francisco, but when he was 3 years old, his father, an ardent Nazi, returned to his native Germany and served as a counterintelligence officer on the German General Staff during the war.

How two men from such radically different backgrounds made their way in America and eventually became close friends and collaborators is related in their book "An Uncommon Friendship: From Opposite Sides of the Holocaust" (University of California Press, $24.95). It was also the topic of a recent discussion, appropriately held at the Museum of Tolerance of the Simon Wiesenthal Center.

Rosner was liberated at the Mauthausen concentration camp in Austria, the sole survivor of his family. After he was shuttled to Italy, in preparation for aliyah, he befriended some American GIs. One American, particularly impressed by the 13-year- old orphan, was Charles Merrill Jr., son of the founder of Merrill Lynch.

Back in the United States, Merrill sent for Rosner. The boy suddenly found himself a member of America’s wealthy WASP aristocracy and, after college, rose to become senior vice president and general counsel of the Safeway Corp.

Though raised in an Orthodox family, once in America, Rosner assimilated so completely that he even hid his Jewish background from his first wife and raised his three sons as Christians.

"Like many other survivors, I tried to bury and keep my past experiences completely separate from my present life," Rosner said.

In about the same time frame, Tubach, who had always gloried secretly in his American birth, left Germany at age 17, deeply troubled by the Nazi wartime atrocities and the refusal of many Germans, like his father, to face their guilt.

He settled in San Francisco, embarked on a distinguished academic career, and became a professor of German and German literature at UC Berkeley.

Unbeknown to each other, the lawyer and professor bought houses within four blocks of each other in the Bay Area suburb of Orinda, but actually met by a sheer fluke.

Tubach’s wife, Sally, was shopping in a supermarket in 1983 when she spotted an old friend from high school days who had become Rosner’s wife, Susan.

The two families started to socialize and the two men discovered that besides their European backgrounds they shared a fondness for travel, gourmet food and wine, opera and classical music.

Through a decade of friendship, the two men discussed many things, including politics, with Rosner as the corporate conservative and Tubach as a self-described "Berkeley leftie."

However, they avoided talking about their childhood experiences, which loomed like an invisible wall between them.

The wall suddenly crumbled in 1993, when Rosner visited the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington and asked the archivist for the record of inmates for Mauthausen. Scanning the microfiche, he stopped at one entry: Bernat Rosner, No. 103705.

"That hit me like a lightning bolt and I realized that you can’t separate your past from your present," he said.

Rosner decided that he must tell his story, both in memory of his murdered parents and for the future of his children. But he felt that he needed a writing partner and asked his friend Tubach to join him in the project.

The collaboration grew over years of often agonizing self-examination, with both men, but especially Rosner, forced to recall the experiences of half a century ago.

By a curious arrangement, Tubach is the book’s first-person narrator, while Rosner’s experiences are related in a more impersonal third person.

The format was requested by Rosner, who explained that although he was now ready to cope with his past, it helped if the "Bernie/Baruch" of the book was seen as a different individual as the present Rosner.

At some of their joint lectures, listeners have objected to a "German" telling the story on behalf of a Jewish Holocaust survivor. Tubach rejects the criticism, saying, "We have both refused to let the swastika and the yellow star define who we are."

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