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January 29, 2010

RETHINKING KASZTNER

“Killing Kasztner: The Jew Who Dealt With Nazis,” a new documentary, portrays filmmaker Gaylen Ross’ attempt to understand why Reszo (Rudolf) Kasztner, a Hungarian Jewish leader who saved more than 1,600 people in war-time Budapest – more than Oskar Schindler – on the so-called Kasztner train, remains so controversial to this day.

In the course of the film, Ross tells several interrelated stories, including that of Kasztner’s rescue efforts during the Holocaust, as well as the stories of his life in Israel, his infamous libel trial (Kasztner was accused of collaborating with the Nazis) and his 1957 assassination by Ze’ev Eckstein, a right-wing Israeli nationalist. Finally the various threads are brought together as Kasztner’s daughter meets with her father’s murderer and Israel’s Yad Vashem acknowledges the importance of Kasztner’s rescue efforts, and accepts the Kasztner archive as part of its collection.

Kasztner has been faulted on many counts: for whom he saved and how he chose them (even though Kasztner personally chose very few of the train’s passengers, he did put his wife and 19 of his relatives on the train). For how he saved them – by negotiating with Eichmann and other German officials. And, finally, for not saving more people – 600,000 Hungarian Jews were murdered during that time, at one point as many as 12,000 a day – and although Kasztner had received Rudolf Vrba’s report on Auschwitz and the Nazi plans for the extermination of Hungarian Jewry, among the accusations made against Kasztner was that he did not sufficiently inform Hungarian Jewry of the report or its contents (a charge he disputed at his Israeli trial).

Kasztner is accused of allowing a few to live so that the others would go to their deaths without protest. As one of Kasztner’s daughters asks: “Why Kasztner? Why is Kasztner blamed for everything?”

The emotion Kasztner provokes to this day is striking. It’s as if those Jews who survived and those whose relatives were killed have displaced their anger at the Nazis and their own guilt feelings, both for surviving and for not saving others, onto Kasztner.

My father, Bruce Teicholz, knew Kasztner. They met in Budapest shortly after my father’s arrival there in early 1942 as a Polish refugee. Kasztner was co-head of the Hungarian Jewish Rescue Committee, my father was co-head of the Polish Jewish Rescue Committee, both of which helped refugees. When the Nazis arrived in Budapest, Joel Brand and Kasztner were the ones to negotiate with Eichmann. My father went underground, leading a group of forgers, couriers, smugglers and fighters who worked with Brand and his wife, Hansi.

My father, who died in 1993, defended Kasztner, believing, as the Supreme Court of Israel would come to conclude, that in impossible circumstances Kasztner did what he could and that lives were saved. “The thing you have to understand about Kasztner,” my father used to say, “is that he was a lawyer.” By which he meant that although Kasztner was never a practicing attorney, his instinct was to negotiate.

One of the arguments made by Merav Michaeli, Kasztner’s granddaughter, in “Killing Kasztner” is that “negotiating” doesn’t fit with how Israelis define their heroes – they prefer fighters or martyrs. Many of Kasztner’s critics argue that it is immoral to have negotiated with the Nazis at all, and that anything gained was done so at an unacceptable price – the lives of Jews.

Kasztner also symbolizes a rift in the Jewish psyche between resistance and accommodation, assimilation and defiance – and in Israel, between Ben-Gurion’s Labor Party and Menachem Begin’s Likud Party. Kasztner worked in a Labor post. The Defense at the trial sought to bring down the Ben-Gurion government, and Kasztner’s antagonist in his libel trial, attorney Shmuel Tamir, would eventually serve as Begin’s justice minister.

Many in Israel turned against Kasztner when it was revealed at trial that Kasztner gave affidavits in favor of SS officer Kurt Becher, commissar of all German concentration camps and chief of the economic office of the SS in Hungary – which spared Becher from being prosecuted at the Nuremberg War Crimes trials (Becher appeared as a witness). Kasztner also gave affidavits on behalf of Nazis Hermann Krumey and Dieter Wislency, whom he had negotiated with in Budapest. The Israel Supreme Court never reversed the lower court’s judgment about the “criminal and perjurious way” Kasztner saved Becher.

However, the film reveals that Israeli historian Shosanna Barri uncovered documents that indicate that the Jewish Agency not only knew of Kasztner’s dealings with Becher, but that its officials also were in dialogue with Becher themselves, hoping to gain Becher’s help in recovering Jewish property and in tracking Eichmann after the war’s end. This leaves open the question: Why didn’t Kasztner say anything about this? Was Kasztner covering for the Jewish Agency? Was he waiting for them to step forward and clear him? In the end, was Kasztner loyal to a fault?

Finally, Kasztner’s assassin, Eckstein, is an extremely compelling character. If you’ve ever wondered how terrorist organizations recruit assassins or suicide bombers; if you’ve ever wondered how an educated young person from a good family can be convinced that he needs to take on such a mission – watch this film.

Eckstein explains that his brain was “poisoned” by right-wing extremists who wanted to purge Israel of its corrupt elements, beginning with Kasztner. He says that today he bears no connection to the young man who committed those acts, but he nonetheless accepts full responsibility for his actions. In the film, a meeting between Kasztner’s daughter and his assassin is arranged at the daughter’s request (the assassin at first refuses, then relents). The meeting, albeit dramatic, is neither cathartic nor revelatory, but does seem to offer Kasztner’s daughter a measure of comfort, if not closure.

In light of all this and in spite of all this, the question remains: Why Kasztner? Why was he such a lightning rod?

To understand Kasztner you have to consider the human dimension and consider the man: imagine a person from Cluj, a Transylvanian border city, who arrives in Budapest and appoints himself as the representative of the Jewish people – that takes a certain chutzpah, a certain ego. There is something about Hungarian Jews of that era, in general, and in particular those worldly, assimilated Hungarian Jews who arrived in Budapest as lawyers and journalists (many of whom became playwrights or screenwriters and ended up in Hollywood). They seemed to think of themselves as magicians – charming, entertaining, able to pull a rabbit out of a hat.

Kasztner believed time was on his side – that if Eichmann could be stalled, the war would end.

Was Kasztner arrogant? Was he resented? Was he damned for what he did? And damned for what he couldn’t do?

Imagine being a Jew in a room with Eichmann, or riding in an SS staff car with Becher as Jews were being murdered daily; it is as horrifying as it is daunting to contemplate. Lives were in the balance and, thanks to Kasztner, lives were saved – not only those on the Kasztner train, but those that Becher spared in the concentration camps and those my father helped to get false papers or cross the border to safety.

Eichmann and the Third Reich had their own larcenous and murderous ambitions. But did Eichmann and Becher know the war was coming to an end? Did they fear war crimes prosecution? Did Becher give information to the Jewish Agency about “the Becher deposits,” confiscated Jewish fortunes in return for Kasztner’s affidavit? Nothing happened in a vacuum.

It is a human impulse to second-guess, to judge, to write history as a moral lesson, with right and wrong, winners and losers, heroes and traitors.  But history is made by complex characters. We may never know the full truth animating the motives, agendas and politics of Kasztner or his many antagonists. But “Killing Kasztner” makes the case that history is a narrative in flux that can be rewritten as our own understanding of events deepen, and that Reszo Kasztner, in all his complexity, deserves to be remembered.


RETHINKING KASZTNER Read More »

David Cygielman found a need, his Moishe Houses fill it

David Cygielman was a sophomore at UC Santa Barbara, a business major and the energetic president of the school’s Hillel, when he found out his father didn’t have long to live. 

The diagnosis of terminal cancer threw Cygielman’s world into disarray. With no money for the family to cover both medical bills and tuition, school was suddenly out of the question. In a last-ditch effort to finish the semester, Cygielman applied to the Santa Barbara Hebrew Free Loan Association. They called back to offer him a deal: If he worked to pay his rent and continued to take a leadership role in the local Jewish community, they would pay his tuition in full for his remaining two years of college.

“I saw the whole community come together for me,” Cygielman recalled recently. “That was a really powerful thing.”

Since then, Cygielman has returned the favor for thousands of young Jews around the world through Moishe House, the organization he founded in 2006 to give the post-college crowd a greater sense of belonging in their religion.

Run by 20-somethings, for 20-somethings, each Moishe House begins as a communal living space, usually in a major city, for three to five young Jews. Cygielman’s organization gives house residents a rent subsidy and a monthly programming budget of $250 to $500, and turns them loose to host whatever events or activities they feel will appeal to their Jewish peers – from Shabbat potlucks and barbecues to softball teams (the San Francisco Matzoh Ball Stars, for one), movie nights and book clubs.

Guests don’t have to agree on keeping kosher, or have a day school education. Many simply don’t live in the cities in which they grew up and are looking for a social connection.

“Visitors to Moishe Houses get to be part of a Jewish community that’s really built for them – they’re just invited over to peoples’ homes to be a part of a young adult Jewish community, which a lot of
people are craving,” said Cygielman, who serves as executive director of the organization.

In four years, Moishe House has expanded from its original location in Oakland to 30 houses in 10 countries, including one recently opened in Los Angeles. There are now about 110 residents in Moishe Houses around the world, running programs for more than 4,000 participants every month. Cygielman believes the organization is now the largest in the world promoting “Jewish life after college” to Jews in their 20s who aren’t yet ready to start families and buckle down with a synagogue membership.

The project started in 2006 as an idea tossed out to a couple of friends over dinner. Cygielman was visiting friends and family in Oakland, and one night he and some high school buddies got to talking about how none of them had been actively involved in anything Jewish since college. “That’s when I asked them if they would basically turn their house into a community center for their friends and other young Jews living out in the East Bay,” he recalled.

They agreed, and the group had their first communal Shabbat dinner that Friday night. Seventy-three people showed up. The next week, he got an e-mail from a few Jewish 20-somethings in San Francisco asking if they could do the same thing out there. “It was pretty eye-opening,” Cygielman said.

The weekly emails haven’t stopped since. Moishe House continues to get applications for new chapters from all over the world – Cygielman said he’s now reviewing applications from Vancouver, Toronto, Stockholm and Berlin. With a budget of $1.3 million, the organization can’t fund every request it gets, but Cygielman said he hates saying no.

That’s because saying no runs contrary to his longtime entrepreneurial M.O. – step one: identify a need; step two: fill it.

It started back in Hebrew school, around age 9. A young Cygielman felt the candy for sale at the synagogue office was overpriced, so after school he would buy his own candy, bring it to Hebrew school and sell bags of Skittles and M&Ms for half as much.

“I had a nice little business going until my parents got called in to the principal and he had to explain that there was a larger purpose than just making profits there,” Cygielman recalled with a laugh.

In high school, he took that principal’s words to heart when he founded Feed the Need, a student-run homeless aid organization that garnered national attention.

Cygielman had participated on a student drive through the Catholic high school he attended to distribute food to the homeless at a park in Berkeley and was struck with a desire to learn more about each person’s individual needs.

“There was something illogical about going and dropping off food and leaving, and only on Christmas,” he said. “It seemed like there was a much larger need that one visit a year wouldn’t take care of. I had an interesting conversation with one guy where I asked, ‘What else do you need?’ And he said, ‘Shoes.’”

The gears in his head already turning, Cygielman went around talking to a dozen other homeless people at that park, took down their shoe sizes, and then asked his high school friends to give him their old shoes. The next week, he went back to the park and presented the people he had spoken to with new pairs of shoes – all the right sizes.

It became a routine. He and a group of other students – no adults needed – started visiting the park every week, gathering enough food donations for 120 lunches each trip. They also brought donated clothes to homeless residents and coordinated referrals to rehab programs and jobs. On top of that, the group also visited a local homeless shelter once a month and mounted a dinner party. They collected school supplies for homeless children there and raised money to send them to summer camp. The press took notice of Feed the Need’s work – Cygielman was interviewed on local radio stations and was a guest on the talk show “Roseanne.”

Meanwhile, Cygielman had grown close with the man he’d originally spoken to about the need for shoes. Eventually, using a pen and a pad of paper he owned, he wrote Cygielman a letter of recommendation for college.

It just shows what can happen when you give people a sense of community – they pass the favor on.

David Cygielman found a need, his Moishe Houses fill it Read More »

Love Is You/EXODUS

The Journey from Egypt was on time.
when Isaac was Carrier of his whole people in a smile
that came from nowhere. When he walked, just feeling the Light from being.
and I imagine two men walking.

One asking questions in the other’s head.  Do you hear my questions like laughter?
My knowing you, may it be called Faith. This is Father-Son bonding—binding—
questions- when you are the Sun of Abraham-

And we would have let the switch happen sooner: if we weren’t distracting each other with sunlight,
Tickling the angel who was holding up the head of the one with smile, saying made you look, make me look to the angels who were holding the head of the ram.
while we held the hand of him.

You cannot split this consciousness. while your head is facing the somewhere. not quite attentive-
paying attention to the journey, and at the same time looking straight at the Sun. That blinds the eyes,
birds overhead, and not being burned. While the heard is water bring up from over you waves.
of heart——this here too. at this moment.

And this expanse is Isaac. Still landing here. tefillin, mezuzah, it’s the lesson on Isaac. Keep your sun close and your heart close. Keep the words of love in your hand, keeping the subtlety of creation hidden, thinking it were a big bang, when it was really quiet, like the shift in consciousness the one that integrates the one that interface interlaced the one is Isaac.  Oh, Sarah held her hand of her’s, and the water! and the sun, and the salt and said let there be light! and sarah held the hand of the nation of Israel, of the tribe of the staff, of the string, of the womb, of the women, of the dancing! of the water, and gentleness came gently.

and we have broken in freedom. the combination. the master held my hand and master held the hand of Sarah. and master made my hand and master broke the way for dancing and for mitzvot, and for land, and master broke the laugh of water, laugh of waiting, laugh of structure, and laugh of child crying for the end to be over. for this moment to be over as the world begins to speak song of ever being lover song of song . . . “I never knew I was one with you who breathes of freedom who believes of love. I know it’s you who believes in truth who believes in friendship who believes in us widened like temples with vines outside who forgo outside when the longing to sings and one side is one side a one sided sever simple so simple to every sun renders surrender to loving the One- I the many of love.” Speaking for all golden calves and forms wanting to be pure. I never knew i was one of you whose . . .  “What would it be, what would it be like, and i am one holding myself, who says this? who wants? it? under the gates the plants are growing, a timeless way to go about going, a sure to be taste of reading and knowing the one is holding herself. I am where i am. what couldn’t this be? holding myself like i’m the one- the one you are. What would it be what would it be like to Open to You as if the gates were mine?”

walking along walking along walking
bushes, i have found you in the cities that have frowned you in the sorrow. in the sound of who were are. clown.
awakening so far. so far. so far…
aware.

Go wherever your home is he said and my home was not with him. Guide The Glove.
My mother was golden haired
crying in the corner
of a dark childhood bedroom
closet or other and whimpered by whispered
things she called sad.
her light was alive and golden
a crack very other than blood above her head, open hidden open door.
other than this world is my.
my boyfriend was my home and he said Come Home
and that meant I had to leave him. My home was not with him.
my home is neither here or where.
did you ever know that love could love?
and make my love new.
you, my Love, create my love.
Home is my love.
i grew up in a gardened house, he was king of under anything
who never took things too literally. This is the heart of Pharoh simply we broke up. His mentioning conducive to my lease.
its like anything that’s split.
really. gated or something or other be dancing with the gardeners
but i always thought my mother was dancing with the gardener.
heal the Purim in my liturgy.

and we have broken in freedom. the land of the bastard. master held the hand of sarah. and master broke the laugh of structure. laughter broke the hand of water. and laughter spoke the hand of soldier who are crying for the end of the over for this moment. to be over as the world begins to speak speak speak song of ever being lover song of song of clover clever. i never knew i was free. i never knew i was one of you whose seeds were made to glow. wide along temples like glimpses outside that forget they are outside when they are many of us. open to you as if the gates were mine. what would it be, what would it be like, to release this love?

fare yee well, my dying drowned fear. old you are and sick so far you fall away from this you are. oh, love i let you in love. love of love. love can love is lovers can love i let you go in love to bring me home and make love create love love can love and has was come the blessing that arises from being in the earth is that the earth can open and can swim and can be seen under the part of think that is not bound to love in you. love is you. loving you.  because our dance was our land.

we were all on time to the dance, whose parents met outside of convenience stores. my grandmother and grandfather spoke of shoes with holes on one side that were split open. open to this bound dance. on mandolin on sacred story.

I want to Thank
and Thank and Thank You.
You know way more that I ever could
the reasons that my gratitude decides to show her face
in this moment, and for this
I give thanks.

😛

Love Is You/EXODUS Read More »

The Tabouli Lesson [RECIPE]

They say we are all children of the same God, but it’s clear we don’t act like it.  For centuries we’ve slaughtered one another in the name of God.  We’ve enslaved, oppressed, reviled and ridiculed our fellow men and women because their god just looked at us funny. I belong to a People who, because we chose not to believe in somebody else’s idea of God, suffered 2000 years of mayhem at the hands of true believers.  I’m over it—sort of—but a quick glance in any history book makes me wary of those that say the path of human unity is through the Divine.

No, God often divides us.  Food unites us.

If you want to see people argue, get them talking about each other’s God.  If you want to see them laugh and talk, get them eating each other’s food.

At the dinner table, you can even talk about God, or politics, or Zionism and terrorism—doesn’t matter.  The best food can soften the most bitter disputes.

I saw this with my own eyes for the first time in 1984 in a kitchen in East Jerusalem. I was living in West Jerusalem at the time, the Jewish half of the, um, united city.  East Jerusalem was the exclusively Arab half of the, um, united city. The Israeli Jews I had befriended warned me against venturing there. They themselves stayed away, and not without reason.  The news often carried reports of Jews being attacked in the streets of the Old City.  The week I arrived in Israel, an American studying in a Yeshiva wandered into one of the many confusing alleyways of the Arab Quarter and was set upon and stabbed.  He died from his wounds—he was my age.

But the Old City lured me time and again.  West Jerusalem was lively and imbued with culture and art.  But East Jerusalem was exotic, the Jerusalem of the photograveures, and, let’s face it, that’s where the great food was.

My Israeli girlfriend turned me on to the hummus at Lina and I couldn’t help myself. If there was an uptick in attacks I’d take precautions—slide myself in with a Christian tour group, where a Roots sweatshirt—assuming every terrorist knows the company is Canadian and therefore, officially, neutral.  But the one thing I couldn’t do was deny myself the best food in the city where I lived.

On one of my trips to Lina’s I met Bilal.

I had come out of the Old City via the Damascus Gate when we spotted each other.  He was a Palestinian man around my age, sitting on a bottom step and reading National Geographic.  Damascus Gate was below street level, so the hordes of tourists and residents who entered it had to descend a series of steps to enter.  The Arab women dressed from toe to head in robes and dresses.  The American and European women, especially the young ladies, pranced down in the light skirts they wore to beat the Jerusalem heat.

Sitting at the bottom of the steps and looking up, Bilal and his friends showed me, was better than National Georgraphic.

So we bonded over girls, and ended up talking about Israel, the Palestinians, history, America, movies—he was my first Palestinian, and I was his first American.  A few weeks after we met, he invited me to his home for lunch.

The house was an apartment in East Jerusalem, with a nice sized living room and much smaller rooms surrounding it.  In the kitchen his mother was busy chopping tomatoes an cucumbers for salad.

The kitchen was the size of a broom closet.  There was a small counter, and next to it a kerosene stove, the kind the Israeli pioneers used. On top she had a covered tin contraption in which she was baking her cake: that was her oven.

Bilal wanted me to sit with him in the living room, where the guests were received, but I had to watch his mother cook.  Here she lived, in a kitchen smaller than a Wolf range, turning out meal after meal for friends and family.  She cut vegetables in her hands, using a small serrated knife with a lime green plastic handle.  She was right-handed. Her left hand was the cutting board. 

Bilal translated.  She explained that the white power she used in her humus was lemon salt.  I noticed Lina’s used it too. She rubbed her okra with salt to remove the slime. Her tabouli was exceptional.  Until that afternoon, I only knew tabouli as the stuff of college vegetarian menus, gloppy mounds of soaked cracked wheat studded with flavorless bits of parsley and tomato.  Bilal’s mother explained that tabouli was supposed to be parsley and mint, with justr a sprinkle of bulger.  It made sense: what I’d been eating before was just cold breakfast cereal with vegetables.

We sat down to a meal of hummus, eggplant, an okra and meat stew and a semolina cake.

I’d see Bilal and his friend Khalil often over the next three years.  There were some intense parties in secret caravansary rooms off those same forbidden alleyways, there was the time Bilal knocked on my door and asked to use my apartment to entertain his girlfriend—a religious Jewish woman.  There were the lunches at Lina and the night Bilal introduced me to the world of Ramadan desserts, late night pancakes soaked in sugar syrup, and warm cheese kunafee under a layer of syrup-drenched shreded filo. , And there was my last meeting with Khalil, when he told me Bilal had been arrested in the first intifada, and who knew what would happen.

Who knew?  After that I lost touch with both men. We had fun, we had food, and then God got in the way.

Real Tabouli

This is the tabouli Farah taught me to make.  It is not the gloppy wheaty stuff of natural food stores (are you listening Whole Foods?).  It is really more of a parsley salad with some bulgher added for texture.

Real Tabouli

2 bunches Italian parsley

1 bunch mint

½ c. bulgher wheat

1/2 c. boiling water

¼ c. olive oil

2 lemons, juiced

1 small onion, chopped fine

1 clove garlic, minced

1 cucumber, chopped

1 tomato, chopped

salt and pepper

Rinse bulger and drain.  Pour boiling water over bulger and let sit 20 minutes. . Soak in cold water overnight. Drain. Wash parsley and mint well.  Chop fine.  In bowl mix all the ingredients together. Adjust for seasoining. Serve cool or room temperature.

The Tabouli Lesson [RECIPE] Read More »

Clinton: China risks diplomatic isolation over Iran

U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton warned China on Friday it risks diplomatic isolation and disruption to its energy supplies unless it helps keep Iran from developing nuclear weapons.

Speaking in Paris, Clinton said she and others who support additional sanctions on Iran for refusing to prove it has peaceful nuclear intentions are lobbying China to back new UN penalties on the Iranian government.

Read the full story at HAARETZ.com

Clinton: China risks diplomatic isolation over Iran Read More »

Israel slams Goldstone ‘misrepresentations’ of internal probes into Gaza war

Israel hit back Friday at claims by a United Nations report on its Gaza offensive last winter, charging in a written response submitted to UN chief Ban Ki-moon that the so-called Goldstone report was inaccurate, as Israel had abided by rules of war in investigating claims of war crimes.

Israel launched Operation Cast Lead in late December 2008, following heavy rocket fire from Gaza on its southern communities. The UN Human Rights Council commission of inquiry into the three-week offensive was headed by retired South African justice Richard Goldstone.
Read the full story at HAARETZ.com

Israel slams Goldstone ‘misrepresentations’ of internal probes into Gaza war Read More »

The big tent

In the early 1990s, when I started work as a Jewish journalist, there was a great fear in the land. Its name was intermarriage.

The 1990 National Jewish Population Survey had just been released, and its central finding — that 52 percent of U.S. Jews who had married in the previous five years had married non-Jews — greatly upset American Jewish leaders.

In the fire station of Jewish life, the NJPS set off every alarm bell and sent the firemen scrambling for the pole. Intermarriage was suddenly an existential emergency. Agencies developed outreach programs to bring young Jews together, a thousand committees blossomed to find solutions, a million words were spilled addressing the problem, and hundreds of millions of dollars were raised and spent to help Jews marry Jews and draw Jews into organized Jewish life.

The dark twin of the threat of “the intermarried” was the bogeyman named “the unaffiliated.” If the Intermarried frightened Jewish leaders, the Unaffiliated flabbergasted them. Who are these Jews walking around with no desire to take part in Jewish life?

In most people’s minds, the Intermarried somehow caused the Unafilliated. The first step, so went the logic, is you bond with a non-Jewish partner, and then, inexorably, you are led father and farther from the faith and community of your ancestors. This panic always struck me as either, at best, misguided or, at worst, cynical — an over-hyped threat that kept donor dollars flowing without addressing the real issues.

In mid-January my wife, Rabbi Naomi Levy, and I spent Shabbat at Congregation B’nai B’rith in Santa Barbara as scholars-in-residence. Rabbi Steve Cohen, the congregation’s senior rabbi, told us that many of the members of the large, Reform synagogue are intermarried — many of the most active members. We saw services and lectures that were full and lively. The Hebrew school is booming, with some 200 children. In the past decade, in fact, Jewish life in Santa Barbara has grown, not shrunk.

How does that square with the doom and gloom of the NJPS survey?

I’ll tell you how: Very few people in this world want to be “nothing.”

“Ever more people today have the means to live,” wrote Viktor Frankl, “but no meaning to live for.”

We humans are hard-wired to yearn for meaning. We want community. We are hungry for wisdom. And we really need help raising our children.

If we create Jewish institutions, homes and lives that offer meaning, education, direction and community, we will always find takers.

For many years, organized Jewish life neglected this. That left a generation that was unaffiliated because it was unmoved. The unaffiliated are really the un-fulfilliated.

If we must worry — and we Jews must, it seems, worry — let’s worry about making ourselves, our families and our institutions reflect the best of Jewish values. That’s what draws Jews—and the world—to Jewish life.

The big tent Read More »

Launch party for TRIBE magazine

A launch party for TRIBE magazine at the Four Seasons Hotel Westlake Village on Dec. 13 drew business leaders and representatives from such organizations as The Jewish Federation, American Society for Technion, Skirball Cultural Center and Salaam Shalom Educational Foundation. Editor Rob Eshman and Steven Karash, executive vice president of advertising and marketing, hosted the brunch to discuss the inaugural issue as well as the future of the magazine, which serves communities from the West San Fernando Valley to Santa Barbara.
Clockwise, from top: Jewish Journal Media Group Board Chair Irwin Field, right, with Ben Brin, principal at Brin & Associates; Jesse Granat, Jennifer Caballero, marketing director of the Skirball Cultural Center, and Victor Caballero; Mayan White and Denise Bean-White, owner of Oxnard-based Consortium Media Services; Eshman and Karash.

Launch party for TRIBE magazine Read More »

Purim Particulars

WHAT IT IS:
As told in the biblical Book of Esther, the Purim story recounts how Haman, the chief minister to King Ahasuerus, plotted to destroy the Jews of Persia. In Shushan, capital of Persia, Haman cast lots (purim) that fixed the date of the Jews’ doom to 13 Adar. Esther, the king’s Jewish wife, was spurred on by her cousin Mordecai to intercede on the Jews’ behalf. The Jews were saved, Haman hanged and Purim became a festival for rejoicing.

REALITY CHECK:
Ahasuerus has been identified with Xerxes I, who ruled Persia from 486 to 465. The first observance of Purim dates from the Hasmonean period, but scholars have long debated the historical basis for the Purim story.

WHAT TO DO:
Attend synagogue services on Purim eve (Feb. 27) for the raucous reading of the Book of Esther from a handwritten scroll, or megillah.
Enjoy one of the numerous Purim carnivals around town. Eat a festive meal.
Give mishloach manot. According to Jewish law, we give a gift consisting of food items to at least one friend and at least two gifts of charity to the poor.

TOOLS:
Groggers: Noisemakers used to drown out the name of Haman during the reading of the megillah.
Costumes: Children from 2 to 92 traditionally dress up as characters from the Purim spiel or in other outlandish get-ups.
Groggers, masks and costumes are available at Jewish gift stores.

FOOD:
Hamantaschen: Triangular fruit-filled pastries, called “Haman’s Ears” in Hebrew. Make your own or stop by any Jewish bakery.
Liquor: It’s customary for Jews to drink on Purim until we can’t tell the difference between evil Haman and good Mordecai. Enjoy in moderation, and don’t even think of driving afterward.

WHAT’S IT ALL ABOUT:
Purim celebrates Jewish survival. Its plot and characters can be seen as archetypes for the persecuted and persecutors of all ages.

FASCINATING:
Nowhere in the Book of Esther is God mentioned. Some scholars believe the book itself is a kind of Purim joke.

LEARN MORE:
“The Harlot by the Side of the Road” by Jonathan Kirsch (Ballantine, 1998) is an exploration of Esther’s racier side.
“Celebrating the Jewish Year” by Rabbi Paul Steinberg and Janet Greenstein Potter (Jewish Publication Society, 2007).
“Purim: Its Observance and Significance” by Avie Gold (Artscroll, 1991).

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Valley Singles Dish About Their Search for Love in the Days of JDate, Insta

I’m not a Torah scholar, but it seems to me Adam was a bachelor in Eden for about four minutes before God felt compelled to play matchmaker. It was the perfect fix-up because the element of choice was eliminated: Eve didn’t have to compete for Adam’s attention with thinner Eves, prettier Eves, Eves that “are comfortable in both high heels and sweatpants.” Adam also had it easy; there were no wealthier Adams, taller Adams, or funnier Adams a mouse click away. Adam’s hairline (and beard length) didn’t matter.

Modern-day Adams and Eves living in suburbia have it a lot tougher. Being Jewish and single and searching for a life partner is as challenging as driving the 101 on a Friday afternoon. San Fernando Valley and Conejo Valley synagogues are no help, as they tend to cater to families, and most organized activities for Jewish singles are held on the Westside. The advent of Internet dating solved one problem — locating large numbers of eligible Jewish singles — but also created two new ones. Sites like JDate maximize the importance of one’s appearance and create an illusion of an endless supply of eligible mates. The result? Near-universal belief in the myth that with just another click the “right” person will magically go from computer screen to chuppah. Or, as one JDater put it: It’s not that singles don’t want to settle down, it is just that they don’t want to settle; it seems like there is always a more “right” Mrs. Right out there.

So what is it like to be single in suburbia? I asked the people who would know: singles ranging from 29 to 50. Here is what they had to say.

The Disenchanted Divorcé:

Wendy, born and raised in the San Fernando Valley, never thought that she would find herself divorced. Married, with a 2-year-old son, Wendy and her husband of five years were like “Ozzie and Harriet.” Then, without warning, her husband left her.

“We were on a cruise with my family, and he was not acting like himself. When we got back from the cruise, I said to him, ‘You’re leaving me, aren’t you?’ and he said, ‘Yes.’ I don’t know how I knew, but I just knew. My entire world just crumbled.

“I thought that I would never date again, because I never thought I could trust anyone again. And I’m pretty much in that same phase. I’ve gone on a few dates in the last 10 years, but, basically, I’m hoping someone will fall from the sky and land in my lap.

“I tried JDate, met a few guys through the site, and went out with one. On our first date, he said to me that if I didn’t sleep with him within three dates, he wouldn’t go out with me again. I have found that JDate is mostly superficial and that people on the site are mainly concerned with your appearance. I never looked at people’s pictures because I wanted to know the person inside, but I found that people didn’t want to know me inside.”

The Nice,Normal Guy:

Like Wendy, Ian lives in the San Fernando Valley, but is not waiting for the future Mrs. Ian to “fall from the sky.” Known as LakerFan28 on JDate, Ian is a 29-year-old man with a nice smile who lives in Woodland Hills and is actively looking for his life mate. Blatantly honest — “I couldn’t fall in love with an overweight Jewish girl” — Ian thinks it is difficult to meet someone through JDate because it is a “woman’s world.”

“Most women get plenttyyyyy [sic] of e-mails, but I feel like they are too picky. Most women are looking for something that doesn’t exist — tall, dark, handsome, and a $100k-plus salary. I have been on JDate on and off for a couple of years, and even though I feel like I’m good-looking, have an awesome personality, and am stable in my career, I can’t get enough dates on [JDate] where I feel a potential connection.”

So Ian, what’s the problem?

“These days we are asking a computer to match us up, which is a lot to ask. And younger girls like the variety and are not necessarily looking for a boyfriend. At around 25, women start to learn what they want and are ready for a cool guy after being burned by a couple of jerks.
“I like dating Jewish girls, but I would marry someone who isn’t Jewish. I’m starting to lose a little faith in Jewish women because I think Jewish women ask a lot; it feels like when they are [instant messaging with you], they are going down a checklist. With non-Jewish girls, if you can make them laugh, that is enough.

“JDate is not a bad place. I think of it like a cheesy zombie movie where there are like a dozen normal people running around trying to find each other, but it is hard to find the normal people because they are [interspersed with the] zombies. But I’m really ready to meet someone.”

Pushing 40 and Single:

Known on JDate as Caligirl71, Lisa [not her real name] seems like one of the “dozen normal people” running around trying to meet someone. She has had some long relationships, but none of them have led to marriage. At 38, she is ready to settle down and start a family, but is finding that meeting the right person is a challenge, especially in the West San Fernando Valley, which she describes as “all families.”

“My friends and I go out to restaurants, clubs and bars, but if you just go to a restaurant, you don’t know who is Jewish. And I wouldn’t marry someone who wasn’t Jewish. There are organizations over the hill [in Brentwood and Beverly Hills] that sponsor Jewish singles events, but not in the Valley, which seems to be mostly families.”

I asked Lisa if her age makes it more challenging to meet someone.

“I’m finding that not as many people contact me on JDate as before. It could be that I’m getting older, but I feel like now I know what I want. I’m looking for someone who would be a good father and husband; someone who really wants to be part of a family and loves life; not a workaholic who is all about materialistic things. I would marry someone with kids as long as I could have one of my own. I want [to create] the same family unity that I had [growing up].

“Sometimes I hear, ‘Why aren’t you married?’ and ‘What is wrong with you?’ There is nothing wrong with me. I just haven’t found the right person.”

The Jewish Eagle Scout:

Perhaps Aaron (Aaron642 on JDate) would be the “right person” for Lisa. He is 35 years old — the age when a Jewish grandmother might begin to worry about her single grandson that has never been married. A self-described “Valley boy,” this Eagle Scout — “I know how to walk old ladies across the street and how to build a snow cave” — is not into the bar scene. Instead, he has used JDate as a way to meet Jewish women, because “it is nice to be surrounded by people of similar values, and meeting someone who is Jewish is important to me.”

“People in L.A. are so spread out that JDate is a nice way to meet Jewish people who live near you. I find it a lot better than a blind date. And I’ve gone to some of the synagogue single things, but the people who attend those events seem to already know each other. It is kind of cliquish. I also tried speed dating, but I find it is too short a time to get to really know someone.

“I have been serious with a few people in the past; now I realize that I need someone who I can be friends with first and then see where it goes from there. I think each relationship builds off of the past ones. Now I’m in a place where I have a good job and good friends and am really ready to meet that special person.”

In Search of a Nice Jewish Boy:

Thousand Oaks resident Natalie is also looking, but is finding it difficult to meet someone.

Natalie (also known as Dorkstarrocker on JDate) is a 30-year-old L.A. native who landed in Thousand Oaks seven years ago. She has been single since breaking up with a long-term boyfriend four years ago.

She says that meeting a Jewish man is very important to her, but finding one is another thing entirely. “It might be harder to meet someone Jewish [in Thousand Oaks] and as you go north toward Ventura. But there are Jews everywhere. I usually meet guys through friends if they are really, really, really pushy about it. Joining JDate was my mom’s idea.

“Most of the guys who try to talk to me online are younger than me and looking for fun and maybe just trying to get lucky. I didn’t seem to run into a lot of guys who are looking for the same things as me. I’ve talked with six or seven, but it takes a while to meet them in person. First you need to talk for a while online and on the phone. I find that people are a lot different in person than they are on the phone.

“I did have a couple of second dates, but neither were successful. One guy got drunk on our second date and I had to drive him home. The other guys were nice and sweet, but there just wasn’t that chemistry.”

Despite the challenges of being single, Natalie is optimistic. “I’m not going to settle. I will continue to date until I meet someone who I want to be with. But there is a definite double standard. It’s OK for a guy to be single at 35, but God forbid I’m 35 and single!”

The Big Five-O:

And what if you are a woman significantly past the “God forbid I’m 35 and single” cut-off? A 50-year-old Encino resident, Janet (JayJaye on JDate) had a lot to say about the challenges of being a single mom looking for true love. An attractive, vivacious mother of a 10-year-old girl, Janet is looking for a man who is close to her age. The 65-year-old men who seem to be interested in her don’t fit in with the lifestyle of an active mom with a child to care for and a business to run. Plus, she says, someone who is currently parenting children will be more empathetic to the connection she has to her daughter.

“Dating in L.A. is not fun; it is harder here because we are a car culture with no true opportunities for random encounters like you would have in a walking-based city like New York or Boston. Also, there are so many beautiful people here that men can just keep looking, and looking, and looking. Men can serial date indefinitely.

“I don’t find it difficult to find people to ‘date,’ but finding someone who would be a good match for me is more time consuming than looking for a job. I have to date 15 or 20 guys to meet someone who I want to have a second date with, and the guys are going through the same thing. Meanwhile, the people who you are dating are also dating five other women and making similar evaluations. I’m an optimistic, upbeat person and I still find it very challenging.

“This is not sour grapes; I have had some nice boyfriends that I met on JDate, but you really do want your socks knocked off.  If you are looking to meet someone, you need to have a certain amount of chemistry and also an intellectual and emotional connection. Basically, I’m looking for a nice, kind-hearted person. I find it shocking that it is so hard to find.”

The Divorced Dad:

Mitchell (Mitchell331 on JDate) seems equally shocked about how difficult it is to meet a quality Jewish single. Mitchell,  a nice-looking, bright, divorced father of three from the East Coast, is a freelance writer and producer and also writes for corporate clients. At 49, he has discovered “it is a lot easier to be single when you are younger.” Although he has found one benefit to his age is that he is more focused on “looking for someone who I can really relate to.”

Since his divorce six years ago, Mitchell has been dating (mostly meeting people through JDate and fix-ups) and was involved in one significant relationship. “Even though I was unhappy that it ended, I am grateful for that relationship, because it reminded me that I could feel ‘that way’ about a girl again.

“I think people know in 10 seconds [if there is chemistry]. It is just a simple, visceral response. Rarely do you have that kind of spark; the really great women are looking for the really great men. But are [they] looking for a package or a man who is going to love them forever? I’m looking for a woman who is really, really, really bright. I lead a very intellectual life. I want someone I can read The New York Times with and discuss history with. And someone who is beautiful. And funny would be good too. And all that is not easy to find. I’m not one who values youth over all else, but I do value vitality, energy and a desire to be touched all over. I want that heat.”

Does it matter whether or not this woman is Jewish? “Being Jewish is not a prerequisite; I post on JDate because Jewish women by and large are pretty, bright and accomplished.”
Mitchell said he recognizes that women in the age range that he is looking for (37-44) necessarily come with some baggage, but he doesn’t view that as a problem. “If the issue of baggage is your baggage, I wonder how do you expect to get to this stage of life without some debts, problems and responsibilities? Either you find someone who is into solving problems with you or that [in itself] becomes a problem for you.”

Mitchell described how one’s level of financial success can complicate relationships. “The issue of money is a really big question. Women are so successful now, and most women don’t want a man who is less successful than they are, which means those women automatically cut off 50 percent of the guys. But I think women who think of relationships more as a merger than a romance will become more and more lonely, because, as they get older, they can’t market themselves to the extremely successful men, because those men can afford a 35-year-old trophy wife.” 

After talking (via old-fashioned telephone, e-mail and instant messaging) to numerous singles for this column, I can’t help but think that we haven’t learned much since our expulsion from the Garden of Eden into suburbia. Adam and Eve lived in paradise, but threw it away because of a “hey, this is great, but what if there is something better out there” mindset. And we still seem to suffer from the collective illusion that we can attract someone else who has it all — even if we don’t have it all ourselves.

Maybe we don’t have a conniving serpent tempting us today, but what we do have may be even worse: a computer keyboard and mouse always seducing us with the promise that love is just one more click away.

Wendy’s Rules of the Web

In an attempt to locate Jewish singles to interview for the accompanying article, I joined Jewish singles Web site JDate.com posing as a single, childless 28-year-old in search of a long relationship or marriage. (And because I did not put any stipulations on age,  I heard from men of all ages.) Based on my short stint on JDate, I have the following suggestions for online daters.

1) Your moniker: Internet daters don’t use their real names, but identify themselves by unique screen names. It seems like guys can’t resist incorporating the name of their favorite sports team into their screen name: hence, Dodgerfan952387 and LakersGroupie412. I think I speak on behalf of all women when I say your sports-themed screen name doesn’t convey “dedicated sports fan” as you undoubtedly intended, but rather beer-guzzling, couch potato who remembers bad trades from 10 years ago, but forgets 10-year wedding anniversaries. If a woman called herself “Bloomingdalesaddict,” you would run like hell. ’Nuf said.

2) All publicity is good publicity: If a journalist contacts you and asks if she can interview you for a magazine that has thousands of Jewish readers,  the correct response is “Sure!” Even if math “isn’t your thing,” you are smart enough to know that you have a better shot of meeting someone if you are “viewed” by a captive audience of tens of thousands of Jewish readers than if you are scanned by 100 or so on a Web site.

3) Your photo: To steal a phrase from the Clinton campaign:  It’s your picture, stupid! Yes, Jews are supposed to be more concerned with one’s inner menschiness than one’s outer appearance, but from my brief spell on JDate, I can assure you Jewish singles make Paris Hilton seem down to earth. The blurry shot your drunk friend took of you from 100 yards away does not a profile picture make. When choosing your profile pic, use the same level of care that your mother put into selecting your bar/bat mitzvah pictures.

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