He was the kind of guy you would take home to your mother. He was Harvard educated, well-mannered, spent time with the elderly, and held an executive position at a major network. He had traveled the world, written a few books, and was shopping for a home. And naturally, he was Jewish. This was the pitch I got from the mutual friend that was going to set the two of us up on my first blind date ever.
According to the released portions of the 2000-2001 National Jewish Population Survey (NJPS), 1.5 million non-Jews live with Jews. Who are they? How do they relate to the Jewish community? How should the community respond to them?
Against the backdrop of a Jewish population that the NJPS describes as declining and graying, the decisions that interfaith couples make about the religious identity of their children are critical to the future vitality of the community. I believe that every attitude, every practice, every policy should be evaluated primarily by this standard: Will it increase the likelihood that the children of interfaith families will be raised as Jews?
If there is such a thing, I am your typical Japanewish American Princess.
My Mom is Japanese American, my Dad is ethnically Jewish and, in a wonderful embrace, I came to be. Growing up in a town in which racial and religious combinations were not the norm, my two heritages naturally blended into one. Kamaboko (fish cake) and matzah ball soup were just as normal to me as they were odd to everyone else. On several occasions, my brother and I would joke about being double-teamed by our parents, whose academic standards were sky-high. Mom and Dad seemed to be the only ones on the block who strategically transformed games of report cards and SAT scores into two-on-one situations. But no matter how much I still accuse them of being ruthless, they didn\’t team up to be mean — they just wanted us to be the best we could be.
Like marijuana?
Believe in men\’s rights? Want a secular state?
If you happen to have an offbeat or nonmainstream platform for Israel, now is the time to run in the Jan. 28 parliamentary elections. One lesson to be learned from the list of the 30 parties vying for Knesset (see page 18) is that Israelis are disenfranchised, and looking for alternatives to the major National Security issue.Â
And while Aleh Yarok (Green Leaf) — the party promoting marijuana legalization — always seems to hit the headlines a week or two before elections (despite publicity before the last elections in 1999, the party mustered 34,029 votes, representing slightly more than 1 percent of the electorate — 15,000 votes short of the 1.5 percent threshold for Knesset membership), other parties with less headline-grabbing platforms are really set to win big.
All things pass in Hollywood, but for Army Archerd. For 50 years, while great stars faded and powerful studio chiefs sank into obscurity, Archerd has written his daily column for Variety, the entertainment industry\’s must-read, and he can count the times he\’s missed a deadline on the fingers of one hand.\n\n\”Army is a legend in Hollywood and his column is read like the Bible,\” said Rabbi David Baron, Archerd\’s spiritual leader at Temple Shalom for the Arts.\n\nOn Tuesday, Jan. 28, the American Friends of the Hebrew University will recognize Archerd\’s \”dedication, generosity and deep commitment to his community\” by presenting him with the Scopus Award.
In Joel Katz\’s intriguing new documentary about the anti-lynching ballad, \”Strange Fruit,\” an African American poet says she always assumed the songwriter was black.\n\nKatz shared the same misconception before making his film, also titled \”Strange Fruit,\” in the late 1990s. After all, the haunting 1938 tune was first performed by jazz diva Billie Holiday and soon became the anthem of the anti-lynching movement.
If Hollywood menschdom has a name, it might be Steve Guttenberg. For years, audiences have identified Guttenberg as a nice Jewish mensch in films such as \”Cocoon\” and \”Three Men and a Baby.\” But in his new film, \”P.S. Your Cat Is Dead,\” which opens Jan. 24, Guttenberg trades in his image — for 90 minutes, anyway — for a much darker persona.
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