fbpx

GET HOME DELIVERY! CLICK HERE »

ADVERTISE
pick up locations
HOME DELIVERY
donate

Jewish Journal

Connect. Inform. Inspire.

August 15, 2012

At joint iftar celebration, Muslim-Jewish High School Council launched

Leave a Comment / California, Mobile, News /

A recent break-fast meal, held in the courtyard of the Westside Jewish Community Center, began with the blowing of a shofar. The sun hadn’t yet set, so the baskets of pita and dried dates placed on every table remained untouched.

And Yom Kippur was more than a month away.

“Ramadan Mubarak,” said Rabbi Sarah Bassin to the 200-odd Jews and Muslims who had gathered on Thursday evening, Aug. 9, to participate in an iftar, the nightly meal that marks the end of each day of fasting during the holy month of Ramadan.

Bassin is the executive director of NewGround, a project aimed at creating an atmosphere of trust between American Muslims and Jews, rather than one of mutual suspicion. To that end, NewGround is in the process of assembling a fifth cohort of 20 young Muslim and Jewish professionals for its fellowship.

On Aug. 9, the organization officially launched a second, similar initiative, the Muslim-Jewish High School Leadership Council. During the coming academic year, eight Jewish and eight Muslim high school students will gather for biweekly seminars and other activities designed to foster relationships and teach them about Muslims and Jews in America.

But if the council’s work can be described in concrete tasks, at least some at the JCC spoke of far loftier goals.

“I want to prove them all wrong,” Natalia Jean Garatto, a member of the new council and president of her youth group at Temple Emanuel in Beverly Hills, told the gathering. “The people who believe that the wars and mutual intolerance will never end and those that think that teenagers have no influence or ability to impact our world.”

Rabbi Sharon Brous of IKAR began the evening by offering words of prayer, and acknowledged the poignancy of a group of Muslims and Jews gathering in the wake of the mass shooting that took place at a Sikh temple in Wisconsin earlier in the week. It was a chance, she said, for people of faith to stand in solidarity, not just with the Sikh community, but with the Muslim community that the killer believed he was targeting.

“We stand together tonight dedicated to realizing the triumph of light over darkness, and love over all else,” Brous said.

The iftar was sponsored by a handful of Muslim and Jewish groups and was choreographed to demonstrate how the council hopes to achieve its lofty goals, but also served to illustrate for the attendees — including the 14 fellows, their families and other members of the local Muslim and Jewish communities — a number of commonalities between the Jewish and Muslim faiths.

The Muslims broke the day’s fast with dried dates; Imam Rushdan Mujahid-Deen of Masjid Bilal Islamic Center explained it was customary for the first food eaten each evening of Ramadan to be a natural food. Some of the Muslims then went upstairs for the Maghrib prayer while a handful of Jews stood in a section of the courtyard for the Ma’ariv service.

What followed was a substantial meal, with the crowd serving themselves plates of vegetarian Indian food from a buffet. Then, under the night sky, Muslims and Jews sat down together. They talked, listened and ate.

“Food always gets people together,” said Mirvat Kamel, whose daughter, Maha, is taking part in the council this year, “that’s what we said.”

At joint iftar celebration, Muslim-Jewish High School Council launched Read More »

David Mamet: Uncle Maury and the Chris-Craft

Leave a Comment / Mobile, News, Opinion /

Imagine a new member to the family. The real or prospective son- or daughter-in-law is not sat down and explained the family ways, nor given diagrams, lists and rules for behavior. They are told stories.

The stories the family tells, the order and frequency in which they occur, their importance in the history (indicated generally by the hilarity with which they are received), and, indeed even the inevitable family disputes as to facts of time, place and dramatis personae, instruct the newcomer in expected performance.

Why is it remembered that Uncle Maury thought a Chris-Craft was a raft for Christians? It certainly means something, else, why was it both remembered and repeated with glee?

Perhaps it was meant to explain how unassimilated or naïve he was, and how the current family, in contradistinction, can’t be distinguished from the Gentiles. Perhaps it is told in love, teaching the newcomer how the family, though now indistinguishable from its Christian neighbors, harbors a profound respect for the Immigrant Generation, who build us all a life, while lacking understanding of the American Language.

I may have a third meaning. The newcomer will most probably not be consciously aware of a meaning (whatever meaning) the story carries. But he will remember it, and the circumstances of its telling, and the attitude of the family.

The Torah is a family story. It may be understood as the Family of the Jews or of the West or of Man, but it is the story of a family. It begins with the dyad and continues through their descendants and into the Nation State.

Each generation and its individuals are described and treated primarily as actors in a family drama; Abraham and his wife and sons, one of whom he almost slays; Isaac, and how he found a wife; Jacob, the mother’s boy, and the way he fooled his father and alienated his brother Esau.

Jacob had 12 sons, and the squeaky wheel, Joseph, was hated by them. They took him out and lost him. Then the no-good son became the effective king of Egypt and brought the others down there. Which brings us to the story of Moses, his brother, his sister and the Family Business.

If these stories were retold in a modern vernacular, it would be seen that they, in their wonders, anomalies, unsettling dissonances and ironies, are no different in kind from Uncle Maury and the boat; Aunt Shirley and the losers she keeps marrying; Sherman and Hy, and their lifelong squabble over the Carpet Store; or the way Aunt Harriet was due to get on the Plane That Crashed, and the Little Old Lady told her not to go.

Those who might protest the inconsistencies or impossibilities of the Bible should listen closely to the jokes and squabbles at the next Seder.

They will find the Family Table stories have their own trope, and are repeated much as the Torah is read; with special emphasis; both to make them memorable, and to reveal their hieratic nature. And they will note the disputes arising over every story. No, that was not Aunt Harriet, that was Aunt Sal; and it didn’t happen at the Lake, but that year in the Mountains. They will see, further, that the commentaries (“I told Bess that I never liked him,” “Susan did the exact same thing in 1955 — I wonder if it runs in the family”) are themselves canonical, thus, effectively the Talmud of the family tale.

What boor would say, “I do not believe that one can smuggle a twelve hundred pound swordfish across the U.S. border, or that a woman can marry not one but three husbands with Exactly the Same Name?” The family myths, presenting themselves as entertainment, are, like all great entertainment, deeply satisfying, ennobling and constructive of community unity. They are not presented as a test for the rationality of their recipients, as if they were a “Find the Errors in This Picture” puzzle in some magazine for children. The newcomer will find, as he enjoys, wonders at, (and thus, imbibes the ritual presentation and the commentary) that he is not so much learning about the family, but becoming one of them.

An actual introduction to the characters of the myths is irrelevant. Though they exist in their own right, they, as characters in the family Torah, are archetypes, who may, at best, bear a name similar to that of the uncle whose hotel burned down on his wedding night, or the woman passing the charoset.

This is the genius of the Torah. It is the bedrock of Western Civilization, and the stories it tells, if we Jews and Christians repeat them, read them, study and argue about them, make us a part of the Family of the West, as their rejection makes us visitors.

David Mamet is a Pulitzer Prize-winning and Tony- and Oscar-nominated playwright, essayist, screenwriter and film director. His latest book is “The Secret Knowledge: On the Dismantling of American Culture” (Sentinel).

David Mamet: Uncle Maury and the Chris-Craft Read More »

How to bring religion into politics

Leave a Comment / Mobile, News, Opinion /

For nearly two millennia politics was poison for the Jewish people.  The principle aim in understanding the machinations of power was to make oppression less onerous.  Great swaths of tradition that spoke to the exercise of power lay mostly unexplored.  Today there is a resurgence of interest and I would like to highlight three crucial lessons from the anomalous historical experience of Judaism.

Vote not veto.  Religious convictions cannot be exiled from the public sphere.  To ask someone to set aside their religion is to exile passion, conviction and principle.  Imagine the analogy; we would say of a candidate, or a voter, “you may enter public life, but whatever you believe deeply you must set aside.”  It is ludicrous.  So a public declaration of faith as a determining factor in a vote on an issue or a candidate is both sensible and inevitable.

At the same time, my religious conviction cannot serve as argument in the public discourse.  Religion is not an irrational belief, but it is an orientation of soul.  To ask you to see with my eyes, or vote with my conscience, is tyrannical.  This is not to discount the ability of religion to persuade; it is a caricature that it relies only on unfounded assertions.  But the argument must follow the same rules as political argument in general and work by persuasion, not prophetic fiat.

Against the tyranny of majority or minority.  The first is clear and arises as a special fear from Judaism as a minority tradition in every land except for modern Israel.  In religion the majority will inevitably set the parameters but precisely because we are dealing with the deepest convictions of a community, special care must be taken to carve out the greatest possible space for the minority. 

These are easier principles to enunciate than to practice.  Is not working on the Sabbath a ‘right’ such that an employee cannot penalize a worker for his refusal?  Does covering one’s face with a veil in public impinge on the public’s right sufficiently to warrant prohibition?  The decision in such cases is of course a balance, but I am arguing for the weightiness of the minority community, whose unusual practices are too often unsupported because unsympathetic.

However we are familiar with the phenomenon of minority groups so passionate that the numbers of the many bow before the frenzy of the few.  Intensity of belief is a delicate calculation in politics because often the indifference of the many is due to failing to envision the consequences of lassitude.  When the law is enacted or fails, suddenly there is recognition of what is at stake. Jews, along with many others, have been as often victimized by a galvanized minority as by a cruel majority. 

Mutability.  The Jews passed through innumerable lands and saw many different political configurations.  Even today in Israel the situation has changed often and is still in flux.  So here is a plea for something in politics that we could use more of in religion as well – epistemological humility.  These are complicated questions and we are unlikely to get them right without many wrong turns. Moreover, they are questions whose surrounding conditions will change, so even if we did get them right, they will not necessarily be right in changing circumstances.  An indulgence that may be permitted a small minority for example (use of a drug in a religious ceremony is one example) may prove impossible if the minority grows larger.

“Teach your tongue to say ‘I don’t know’” is some wise and often unheeded Talmudic advice. 

What is most needed?  Clichéd though it may be, civility and an assumption of goodwill.  Respect for the other is a constant challenge as we encounter the other in an age of immigration and the growth of cities.  We will increasingly jostle up against each other.  The difference with religion is that as it poses the problem it also suggests the solution.  There is nothing in the ideology of nationalism that encourages amity. Different cities or sports teams spur division but do not instruct us on tolerance. But religion, while sometimes serving as a generator of differences, also teaches that all human beings are in God’s image.  So as it divides it provides the impetus for uniting.  It is up to us to be faithful uniters and that begins by making the public sphere open, raucous, opinionated, respectful and kind.

Perspectives: Religion and Public Life is a blog series about the relationship between religion and secularism run by the Tony Blair Faith Foundation. The aim is to offer a wide range of opinion and expertise on the subject, drawn from around the world. Rabbi Wolpe’s reflection is part of this series. Find the latest blogs here (http://www.tonyblairfaithfoundation.org/religion-public-life)

David Wolpe is senior rabbi at Sinai Temple. This article is excerpted from a longer essay written for the Tony Blair Faith Foundation as part of its ongoing series, “Perspectives: Religion and Public Life.”

How to bring religion into politics Read More »

Berta Claiborn, Leaf owner since March 2011

Leave a Comment / Live from the Arab Spring, Opinion /

My husband, Bill and I have only one Leaf.  So the daily question, if we go out together is—Who’s driving?

Usually the question is answered by another question:  Who drove last?  or Who is it set for? or Who threw the key in their pocket? or by me with:  I am!

There is never a question of whether to drive the Leaf or not but rather how far is the destination(s) and where is the nearest charging station.

So we prepare for trips if they are in unknown territory and take very efficient routes.

Freeway traffic slow-downs make us happy because we are not wasting power but gaining in mileage since the slower you go the further you go.

So our Leaf driving days are cheery and relaxed.  Plus, we have a new love and appreciation for LA traffic jams.

Berta Claiborn, Leaf owner since March 2011 Read More »

Mitt Romney, Paul Ryan and Florida Jews

Leave a Comment / Mobile, News, Opinion, Raphael Sonenshein /

In 1992, Paul Tsongas of Massachusetts mounted a strong campaign for the Democratic presidential nomination. The pundits considered him a brainy guy who was willing to take on the sacred cows of Social Security and Medicare. Gov. Bill Clinton of Arkansas, by contrast, seemed like a flawed candidate. Tsongas stung Clinton by calling him “pander bear.”

Tsongas won the New Hampshire primary. With the wind at his back, he headed south to Florida. And there, like an alligator in the Everglades, waited Bill Clinton.

Clinton took Tsongas to the woodshed, running a devastating television campaign that highlighted the threat Tsongas’ plans posed to the entitlement programs so revered by Florida’s Democratic Party electorate. Florida was Tsongas’ Waterloo. His campaign never recovered.

I was reminded of that 20-year-old electoral watershed when I heard that Mitt Romney had selected Congressman Paul Ryan (R-Wis.) as his vice presidential candidate.

Romney has been working hard to break the Democratic hold on Jewish voters. As Dan Schnur pointed out recently (Los Angeles Times, Aug. 12), since Obama already has a lock on New York and California, the Jewish vote really matters strategically in only three battleground states for the presidential race: Florida, Pennsylvania and Nevada. Florida is the most important, and it has held some opportunities for Romney.

Florida’s Jews, concentrated in three southern counties of Broward, Palm Beach and Dade, represent 3.3 percent of the state’s population, but their turnout share is as high as 4 percent of the statewide vote.

Jewish voters in Florida, especially those who are elderly, preferred Hillary Clinton in the Democratic primary in 2008, although they voted in a strong majority for Obama in the general election. Generally, Obama has done better with younger than older voters, and this is true among Jews as well. And the Florida Jewish electorate is comparatively elderly.

Florida had 613,235 Jews in 2010 according to a North American Jewish Data Bank report by Ira Sheskin and Arnold Dashefsky. Florida held the top six places in the country in proportion of the Jewish population older than 65 years of age, led by South Palm Beach at 62 percent and West Palm Beach at 57 percent. By contrast, the elderly Jewish population of Los Angeles is only 21 percent.

Israel is the one issue that gives Republicans a chance with Jewish voters, and Romney’s recent trip to Israel enabled him to run commercials in Florida that noted that Obama has not yet visited the Jewish State. There is also discontent about political conflicts between Obama and the Israeli political leadership. Republicans have been gaining with older white voters, even as they struggle with young and minority voters.

But expecting older Jewish voters to go to the next step of voting for a Republican is not a given. Romney still has had to convince those who might be skeptical of Obama that he is a safe choice, and that he won’t be a tool of the most conservative wing of the Republican Party. And here is the problem. What Romney needed to do in his selection of vice president to unite his party is exactly the opposite of what he needed to do to make inroads among Jews.

Had he made a safer choice, Rob Portman of Ohio, for example, he might have been able to reassure some Jewish voters that his ticket would be a safe harbor for their discontent with the incumbent president. For these voters, boring would be good, especially if boring meant no change to Medicare and Social Security. According to the Kaiser Family Foundation, Florida has 3,390,801 Medicare recipients, 18 percent of the state’s population. According to the AARP, one in five Florida residents received Social Security benefits in 2006. Strikingly, for three out of 10 Floridians older than 65, Social Security provided their sole source of income.

Ryan’s plans for a full or partial privatization of Medicare and Social Security will be anathema to older voters. These ideas are so unpopular — and to many people so unfathomable —  that the Democrats have had to struggle to convince voters that anybody would actually propose it. Now Romney’s selection of Ryan as his running mate clearly aligns him with Ryan’s plans.

If the debate turns to Medicare and Social Security, the debate over Americans’ relationship with Israel may become less compelling. And certainly older voters in general will be paying very close attention to what happens with entitlement programs.

Although there is no guarantee that the famously undisciplined Democrats, prone to scattershot campaigning on numerous fronts, will press the advantage, but if they do, the Romney-Ryan ticket could mean that their prospects could be very bright, not just in the presidential campaign but in congressional elections nationwide as well. Romney’s selection of Ryan likely will have the unintended consequence for the Republicans of shifting the debate from focusing on insufficient jobs for Americans of working age to the otherwise dormant questions of health and income security for the high participation, retired senior citizen voters.

It is hard to imagine more difficult terrain for the Republicans in an election year that for them began with so much promise.

Raphael J. Sonenshein is executive director of the Edmund G. “Pat” Brown Institute of Public Affairs at California State University, Los Angeles.

Mitt Romney, Paul Ryan and Florida Jews Read More »

My Single Peeps: Brandon B.

Leave a Comment / Culture, Mobile, My Single Peeps, News, Singles /

Brandon’s an only child. He tells me he’s the kind of kid who kept to himself. “I didn’t break out of my shell until late in high school. I’m still kind of introverted, but an outgoing introvert, if that makes sense.”

“How’d you break out in high school?” I ask. “I just started doing things to get more confidence in myself. I didn’t want to be a nerd, for example. I wasn’t comfortable with that.”

He decided to own up to his strengths. “I got into programming, code … that whole world.” He joined the robotics team.

“I also got into photography. I got my first DSLR (digital single-lens reflex) camera and started playing with it and got really good at it. I learned Photoshop, and I learned that I liked Photoshop more than I liked taking pictures. And that turned into someone asking me to build a Web site. It wasn’t easy at all, but I did it. Things I couldn’t do, I hired people to do for me. One turned into two. Two turned into four. And now I have developed over 200 Web sites.

“[In college] I went from having no Jewish friends to having mostly Jewish friends. I realized their personality was similar to mine. The way I think about things, the way I approach things, and the way I think about family.”

He’d love to meet a Jewish girl. “I want someone who’s very driven. I like someone that’s as busy as I am but always makes time to see me. Someone who cares about her appearance. Someone who understands that friends and family are more important than career. Education’s important. I like someone who’s healthy — who goes to the gym on a regular basis. Someone who tries as hard for me as I try for them. I think it should be 60/60 rather than 50/50. Each person should put in more toward the relationship than the other person is.”

Last summer, Brandon, 22, needed surgery. “There’s three scars on my shoulder — it’s pretty cool. I started going to physical therapy, and then I got a personal trainer. It ended up with me gaining about 20 pounds of muscle in about four months, and it completely changed my body. … All of a sudden, my arms were twice as big, and my shoulder was never stronger.”

He’s into self-improvement — if he doesn’t like something about himself, he fixes it. “I try too hard to be perfect, which is the best and worst attribute about me.”

When it comes to work, he’s extremely confident. “When I was younger it was very difficult for me to say good things about myself. Society tells you people will think you’re cocky. But why shouldn’t you be able to say, ‘I’m good at this; I’m the best Web developer you’ll find.’? I’m not saying I’m better than you. I’m saying I’m better than you at building a Web site. That’s my thing. That’s what I do. So I might as well be the best at it.”

In high school, when he was still shy, he read the book “The Game.” “It changed my life.” He learned a lot from it. “I wouldn’t date someone I was attracted to, because I didn’t feel I was good enough, and that’s absurd. I was good enough — I just didn’t have the confidence to tell them I was good enough. If you’re not proud of who you are, why would someone else be? If you wouldn’t date yourself, why would a girl date you?”

If you’re interested in anyone you see on My Single Peeps, send an e-mail and a picture, including the person’s name in the subject line, to mysinglepeeps@jewishjournal.com, and we’ll forward it to your favorite peep.

Seth Menachem is an actor and writer living in Los Angeles with his wife and two children. You can see more of his work on his Web site, sethmenachem.com, and meet even more single peeps at mysinglepeeps.com.

My Single Peeps: Brandon B. Read More »

Torah Portion: Pagan inspiration

Leave a Comment / Judaism, Mobile, News, Torah /

“Beware of being lured into their ways … Do not inquire about their gods, saying, ‘How did those nations worship their gods? I too will follow the same practices!’” (Deuteronomy 12:30).

I am struck by this verse from our parasha, because I have benefited greatly from other people’s religious practices. My ability to do teshuvah has been transformed by a style of meditation that I learned from Buddhists, and tai chi has taught me how to bring my body into davening.

My experience is far from unique. Judaism has a rich tradition of “borrowing” from non-Jews.

What is more quintessentially Jewish than the Pesach seder? Yet learning while drinking multiple cups of wine directly mimics of the Greek symposium, which predates the seder by several hundred years. The Hebrew word afikomen is based on epikomen, Greek for “that which comes after.”

Another example: The great Jewish philosophic work, Maimonides’ “The Guide for the Perplexed,” is an explicit attempt to integrate the neo-Greek philosophy and science of his time into Judaism. Living in Egypt, Maimonides wrote in Arabic, and he specifically refers to the Muslim philosophers he debated.

But even if tapping other traditions to inform one’s Jewish practice is legitimate, it’s not always advisable. Simply taking a Buddhist prayer and praying it in Hebrew, for instance, or adopting a Buddhist idea like “the interconnectedness of all life” without critically asking if it’s really compatible with Jewish monotheism, threatens the cultural and theological coherence of Judaism.

Since I study with non-Jewish teachers of spirituality, I face this problem often. I remember standing in a meadow with a Native American teacher as he demonstrated a Four Winds ceremony, urging us to throw tobacco and pray in the four directions. “I can’t do this,” I thought. “This is pagan.”

Adapting other people’s ways to Judaism is fairly easy when form trumps substance, such as the rabbis “Judaicizing” of the Greek symposium. Whereas the Greeks used the symposium to debate philosophy, Jews rehearsed their history. Whereas the afikomen signaled the beginning of an extended desert course for the Greeks, it means the “last bite of the meal” for Jews.

It is much harder when it comes to integrating spiritual truths and philosophical ideas into Judaism. Maimonides critically engaged Greek thought, and the result is a rich, philosophical work. He agrees and disagrees with Aristotle and creatively moves Judaism forward. Many of his innovative ideas, controversial at the time, were rejected by Ashkenazi rabbis. Yet, today he is venerated by all, and no one doubts the Jewish authenticity of his thought.

So, how does one decide when it’s “kosher” to learn from others?

I don’t have room here to make the full argument, but I will share my conclusion. Judaism is a comprehensive set of rituals, values and theological/cultural norms that developed in communal/covenantal context over time. All are essential components of a flourishing Jewish people and healthy Jewish identity. The test of importing a new idea or practice into Judaism is whether or not it integrates into the Jewish narrative as it unfolds over time.

To say shalom instead of om at the end of a yoga routine is nice. But when that’s the extent of your Jewish practice, it’s shallow. Authentic, spiritual practice is rooted, roots us, makes ethical demands, challenges us as well as makes us feel good, and pervades every aspect of our lives. That a non-Jewish practice avoids conflict with Jewish norms is not enough, even if one does it at the local Jewish community center.

But when yoga deepens one’s relationship with God and enriches one’s observance of mitzvot by creating experiences and teaching skills that enhance one’s Jewish practice, it is a welcome supplement.

As I stood in that meadow, feeling an instinctive “this isn’t Jewish” feeling, I suddenly remembered Sukkot. I’d been praying in the four directions — with formerly pagan fertility symbols in my hands, no less — all my life. Once I was open to it, I found the Native American ritual to be spiritually productive, connecting me to God’s creation in new and fruitful ways.

But could I pray like a Native American with Jewish integrity?

After study and thought, here is what I did. I “Judaicized” the prayers with language I learned from the Jewish mystical tradition, careful to avoid praying to anything other than the Holy One. Even though there is ample precedent in the ancient Temple rites for ritually offering tobacco, it conflicts with the Jewish norms and narrative of our time. So I dropped it. My offering is words of prayer.

Now the Sukkot ritual has deeper meaning for me. And by praying in the four directions, I engage God through connection with the Earth all year round, which, in this time of global warming, brings the ethical demands of protecting the planet higher into my consciousness.

Our parasha ends with the call to worship at the Temple. As long as we always come home to Jerusalem, with practical wisdom and critical thinking, the encounter with other spiritual paths will often prove fruitful.

Rabbi Mike Comins is the founder of the TorahTrek Center for Jewish Wilderness Spirituality (torahtrek.org) and the author of “Making Prayer Real: Leading Jewish Spiritual Voices on Why Prayer Is Difficult and What to Do About It” (Jewish Lights Publishing, makingprayerreal.com) and “A Wild Faith: Jewish Ways Into Wilderness, Wilderness Ways Into Judaism”(Jewish Lights Publishing).

Torah Portion: Pagan inspiration Read More »

Survivor: Hedy Fingerman

Leave a Comment / Culture, Mobile, News, Survivor /

The cattle car doors opened onto the Auschwitz platform and Hedy Markowitz, abruptly separated from her mother and younger brothers, was pushed along a walkway. She was first detained at a building where two Jewish prisoners shaved her head, and was then ushered into another building and ordered to undress. She took off the pink and blue plaid suit that her mother’s friend had sewn for her 16th birthday. She then carefully removed the tiny photo of her father that she kept hidden under the yellow star and tucked it inside her blue shoes, which her mother had bought to match the suit. Minutes later, she emerged from the shower to find the clothes gone and the photo missing from her shoes. Hedy was 17; she had not seen her father since she was 9.

Hedy was born on Feb. 11, 1927 on her grandparents’ farm in Lipca, a small town in Subcarpathian Czechoslovakia. Soon after, her parents, Moishe and Pearl Yosowitz Markowitz, moved to Venif (Vonyhove), where her three younger brothers were born. Growing up, Hedy loved to watch her mother bake. She also loved to visit her maternal grandparents on their farm.

In 1936, Hedy’s father, struggling to make a living with his general store, moved to Belgium to start a new business. He later tried to return to Venif, but German troops had already invaded Belgium. (Decades afterward, Hedy learned that her father had joined the Belgium underground but was captured and sent to Auschwitz.)

In summer 1941, having traveled to the grandparents’ farm, Hedy’s family, along with all the Jews of Lipca, were rounded up and transported by cattle car to Jasina. But the Hungarian government, which had taken control of Subcarpathian Czechoslovakia, ordered the train to turn back. Hedy, her mother and brothers returned to Venif, where, during this time, almost all Venif’s Jews had been sent to Ukraine.

“It was like a cemetery. You didn’t see anyone outside,” Hedy said.

After Germany invaded Hungary on March 19, 1944, persecution of the Jews intensified. In early April, Hedy’s grandparents and the other Jews of Lipca were taken to Auschwitz and killed. Days later, during Passover, Hungarian soldiers ordered Hedy’s family to leave their house. Hedy’s mother sent Hedy to the attic for food. A soldier followed her, frisking her for concealed valuables. Hedy, her mother and brothers and the town’s few remaining Jews were marched to nearby Bustino, loaded on cattle cars and taken to the Mateszalka ghetto in eastern Hungary, where 17,000 Jews were crammed together. Hedy’s family, along with two other families, shared a windowless attic. They remained there for six weeks, with Hedy rarely leaving the attic.

In May, Hedy’s family was shipped to Auschwitz. She was processed and taken to a barrack. Her Aunt Muncie, her mother’s younger sister, however, recognized her and moved her to her barrack. “She took care of me like I was her daughter,” Hedy recalled. At roll call every morning, Muncie put Hedy in the middle of the five-person row, where she was better protected.

During the days, Hedy mostly stayed in her bunk or walked around outside. Sometimes she wandered near the train platform where she saw cattle cars being unloaded and babies torn from their mothers’ arms. “I was so scared while I was there. God closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see, because it was hell,” she said.

Seven weeks later, Hedy and Muncie were transported to Bergen-Belsen in northwestern Germany and, a short time later, taken to separate labor camps.

Hedy’s labor camp was near the Landsberg-Lech Air Base in Bavaria. During the days she was sent with a group of women to dig up potatoes, supervised by an elderly German soldier with a gun. But he told the women he was worried about his own son, also a soldier, and did not work them very hard. He also led them to safe places during bombing raids on the air base.

Six months later, in January 1945, Hedy, wearing only a thin dress and cardboard shoes, was put on a forced march to Bergen-Belsen. She walked 17 miles a day, subsisting only on black coffee, and arrived at Bergen-Belsen six weeks later, her toes frostbitten and her body barely able to move. “It was such a mess there. I was walking over dead people to go to the bathroom,” she said. Then, on April 15, women prisoners rushed into Hedy’s barracks, bringing coffee and tea and shouting, “We’re liberated.”

Hedy was taken to a hospital, where she had surgery on her right shoulder. Three weeks later, feeling better, she walked down the hospital corridor and looked out the window. “I wonder if there is a world out there,” she said to herself. She saw women sitting on the grass talking and was reassured. She looked again, saw her Aunt Muncie and cousin Gizi and screamed. “They came running because they had given up on me,” Hedy said.

In fall 1945, Hedy, Muncie and Gizi left for Sweden. Hedy was hospitalized for additional recuperation and was then sent to a Jewish school for girls. About a year later, a great-uncle brought all three to the United States and they settled in Cleveland, where American cousins lived and where Hedy worked as a dressmaker. 

Hedy met Jack Fingerman a few months later. He had come from Poland in 1939, the only surviving member of his immediate family and, Hedy said, “the most wonderful man.” They married on Sept. 13, 1947.

Their daughter Pearl was born on July 10, 1949, and a month later they moved to Los Angeles to be with Jack’s aunt and uncle. Their daughter Evie was born on Feb. 25, 1952.

Hedy and Jack moved to the San Fernando Valley in 1953, raising their daughters and becoming active members of Valley Beth Shalom.  Jack died in November 2002. Today Hedy, 85, enjoys spending time with her daughters, son-in-law and two grandsons, and baking her much-requested rugalach.

Hedy always wanted to write a book. “What they did to the Jews, it should never happen,” she said.

Survivor: Hedy Fingerman Read More »

Is Israel succumbing to Jewish fundamentalism?

Leave a Comment / Is Featured?, Israel, Israel, Lead Story, News, Worldwide /

The British magazine the Economist is holding a public debate on the question: Is Israel succumbing to Jewish fundamentalism? You can vote (as I’d expect, Economist readers vote Yes), you can read the ongoing debate between Avraham Burg (the “leftist” – voting yes) and Daniel Gordis (the “rightist” – voting no). You can read the background material, including the special report on the state of Judaism and the Jews that was written by my one-time boss, one-time colleague, and current friend David Landau.

You can also read the “featured guest” article I wrote for this debate. I do not debate, and am not engaged in the ongoing dialogue between Burg and Gordis. I’m only addressing this challenging question: Is Israel succumbing to Jewish fundamentalism? Here is my answer:

Judaism is not easy to define. It is a religion and a civilization, a culture and a tradition. Judaism really is what Jews are doing at a given time. And one of its components is a never-ending debate over what Jews should be doing instead of what they are actually doing.

Fundamentalism is also not easy to define. Too often, it is merely what people with whom one does not agree are doing. Example: Jewish Orthodox groups that support separation of the sexes on public transport are deemed “fundamentalists” by Orthodox groups that are also supportive of separation of the sexes, but only in synagogues and schools. What is it that makes Orthodox “A” worthy of the “fundamentalist” tag and Orthodox “B” unworthy of it? One might say: buses are for everybody; synagogues are voluntary. You don’t have to go into a synagogue if you don’t like separation of the sexes. But what about public schools separating children? True, you can send your children to a secular school where there’s no separation. So should we accept separation of buses if there are also mixed buses for the less strictly observant public?

These are all tricky questions without which one cannot answer the question this debate poses: “Is Israel succumbing to Jewish fundamentalism?”

Judaism is a living entity. Thus Jewish Israel is constantly changing, and is constantly influenced by new and contradictory trends. Thirty years ago it was fashionable to dismissively compare the one-dimensional second and third generation of know-nothing seculars with the founding fathers who were Jewish-educated seculars. But that was then. Nowadays, it is trendier to complain about too much Jewish content in schools’ curriculums, and about Israelis’ “worrisome” percentage of belief in God, and about the tendency of the more traditional Israelis to be less concerned with democratic values.

Israeli Jews often defy expectations and rebel against predictions of impending doom. They are pragmatic to the core. A case in point: in Israel, the rabbinate is the only body entitled to officiate over the marriage of Jews. It is a lousy arrangement that originated under Ottoman rule and was never altered — one of the often-used prime examples of the Israel-is-a-fundamentalist-country camp. But how valid is the example? Just a few days ago, Israel’s dependable Bureau of Statistics released its report on Israelis’ habits of pairing and marriage. Apparently, 20% of Jewish Israeli couples marry abroad. That is, one out of every five couples is shunning the rabbinate and tying the knot elsewhere. True, the lousy arrangement is still unchanged, but Israeli Jews are slowly and gradually voting with the wedding ring to make it irrelevant. Between 1970 and 2012, the percentage of single men aged 25-29 rose from 28% to 65%, and the percentage of single women aged 25-29 jumped from 13% to 46%. In a fundamentalist society, such a percentage of unmarried grown-ups would not be tolerated. So, the law can at times problematic and even coercive, but the state still accepts the many choices that people make.

And speaking of the people, there’s an urgent need to separate real people from those pretending to be speaking for the people — sometimes called “rabbis” (at other times they can be called intellectuals and hold just the opposite views). There are many rabbis in Israel who believe that the masses obey their orders. And there are many fly-by writers, or ideological hacks, or manipulative politicians, or hysterical citizens who are buying this empty propaganda and reselling it for their own purposes — to prove that Israel is becoming undemocratic, or is controlled by the settlers or by ultra-Orthodox parties, or is going down the drain for other internal reasons.

There is one problem with the selling of rabbinical outrageous rhetoric as proof that Israel is becoming more fundamentalist: most Israelis — even the ultra-Orthodox — only listen to the rabbis when their message resonates with them. Rabbis say: Marry! They don’t. Rabbis say: Marry at the rabbinate! They don’t. Rabbis — just before the 2005 “disengagement” from Gaza — said: Disobey military orders! Only a negligible number of soldiers followed through. Rabbis — the more radical — say: Don’t use mobile phones! And they do use them. Ultra-Orthodox rabbis want their community to resist any change, but young haredis are rebelling against the status quo. David Zolden, an ultra-Orthodox columnist whom I met earlier this week, is reporting that “the change that haredi society is going through is fundamental and deep”.

Israel is in an ongoing state of transition. Nothing stands still; nothing is fixed. And the flow of ideas and trends may be in several directions simultaneously. Shopping malls and restaurants and cinemas are open on Shabbat, the Jewish Sabbath, but official conversion to Judaism is governed by stricter rules. Homosexuals are treated equally by the state, but racist rabbinical writings are becoming more vocal. Mixed-seating synagogues are becoming more common, but soldiers defying orders because of newly observed religious sensitivities are becoming less rare.

There is more: in the 1990s, a wave of former Soviet immigrants brought with it a laissez-faire approach to eating pork and a much higher tolerance for erecting a Christmas tree in a Jewish or half-Jewish home. At about the same time, an amazing rise of Sephardic ultra-Orthodox power became a fixed Israeli reality. Russian Jews seemed to make Israel more secular, Moroccan Jews seemed to make it more religious.

These are not “fundamentalists”; these are groups in transition and in search of political and societal power. These are groups that make life in Israel more challenging and more interesting, and — at times — also more worrying. A lot more worrying. These are the groups that are shaping the real Israel, not the imaginary country preferred by those who are unable or unwilling to win and lose and grudgingly compromise in this constant fight for Israel’s soul. I fear those it-has-to-be-the-Israel-we-want fundamentalists more than I fear all others.

Is Israel succumbing to Jewish fundamentalism? Read More »