Talmudic temptation
From a glass-enclosed cabinet in her Westchester home office, historical novelist Maggie Anton removed a small clay pot. Indicating the Hebrew characters inscribed on the pot in the same Aramaic text as in the Talmud, she noted the rough outline of a demonic form inside the “incantation bowl.” She explained during an interview that during the fourth to sixth centuries, the same time that the Talmud was being created, the bowls, purchased in an antiquities store in Israel, were ubiquitous in Iraq — once known as Babylonia — the setting for Anton’s latest novel, “Enchantress.”
One of the many types of archaeological evidence of Jewish sorcery — “they call upon Jewish angels, they mention the four matriarchs, they quote Torah, some even quote Mishnah” — the discovery of these bowls represented a high point in Anton’s research for her love story set in fourth-century Babylonia. Until then, the Talmud had been her only primary source.
“Sorcery is a very important thread in the Talmud that most scholars have preferred to ignore until recently,” Anton said. “Illness was caused by demons or the evil eye, and Jews had a reputation for knowing the secret magic that did healing. In the Talmud, you’d go to a healer to be cured, and they would write a spell for an amulet that you would wear. Or they would do an incantation on a bowl, and they would bury it under your house. Everything was from demons and the evil eye.”
The Talmud also claimed a major presence in Anton’s earlier trilogy, “Rashi’s Daughters.” A former clinical chemist for Kaiser Permanente, Anton said that she never could have written “Enchantress” without first telling the story of the great scholar who lived in 11th-century France. The availability of historical documentation on Rashi helped greatly. Teasing out the basic information from just the Talmud about the characters in another book, “Rav Hisda’s Daughter,” was much trickier.
And none of these would have occurred if she hadn’t decided to study Talmud in 1992 with feminist theologian Rachel Adler. Drawn to the intellectual rigor of talmudic study, Anton, who comes from a secular Jewish family, said, “I was 42. My mom had just been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. My kids were mostly out of the house. I had worked at the same job for a lot of years. I needed to have my brain doing stuff it hadn’t been doing before.”
But there was another reason. “I knew women weren’t supposed to study it; that it was forbidden at that point. And, of course, all you have to do is make it forbidden, and you make it much more attractive.”
Anton’s research into the life of Solomon ben Isaac (one day to be known as Rashi) and his family began “just for fun.” However, she grew increasingly fascinated once she started learning more about the vintner and scholar. “He was really a feminist, considering that he lived in 11th-century France. I was very surprised that 900 years ago, women in his community did wear tefillin and wear tzitzit and blow shofar. This was a kind of a black hole in Jewish history ignored by everybody.”
Four years later, she had completed the first draft of her novel. After making 12 copies of the manuscript, she showed it to her husband, daughter, some close friends and four rabbis. They all thought it should be published.
Among the many surprise twists of her literary trajectory, Anton’s publishing experience has been the most surprising of all. Although she had a literary agent, publication eluded her. Outside of Anita Diamant’s 1997 “The Red Tent,” there didn’t appear to be a market for this kind of fiction.
Many aspiring authors might have given up at this point. Not Anton. Hiring a literary shepherd, she and her husband, Dave Parkhurst, a patent attorney, became publishers themselves.
“I knew how to reach Jewish women, and I knew there was interest. I did a lot of cold calling of [synagogue] sisterhoods, Hadassahs and National Councils of Jewish Women chapters. Then I went all over the country and Canada and hit the Jewish talk circuit — sold books in the back of the room. They would tell their friends. There was buzz.” In 18 months, 26,000 books had sold.
When the big publishers caught wind of that phenomenal figure for a self-published novel, a bidding war ensued between HarperCollins, Penguin and Crown. “This was the first book in a trilogy, and they wanted the rest of it,” said Anton, who chose Penguin. To date, close to 150,000 copies of the first volume of “Rashi’s Daughters” have sold, and it remains her strongest seller.
Meanwhile, the memory of a piece of Talmud she had studied long ago still resonated. When Penguin asked if she had anyone else in mind, she remembered the girl whose rabbi father had given her the choice of marrying one of two teenage boys, his best students. The daughter’s answer of “both,” she said, “just blew my mind. I thought, ‘What courage, what audacity.’ And I immediately thought of her.”
The author reports that all of the books have received starred reviews from the Library Journal. In addition, “Rav Hisda’s Daughter” became a National Jewish Book Award finalist.
Nevertheless, Anton acknowledged there have been losses. Chief among them was the hit taken by her love of reading fiction. “I was a voracious reader. I devoured thrillers, murder mysteries, science fiction, fantasy, romance, kids’ books,” she said. “As the author, I now see the scaffolding, the craft. I’m much more fussy. My pleasure in reading novels is sadly diminished.”
As for the future, Anton will go only so far as to say, “There’s a story banging around inside my head. It haunts me at night. It’s there, lurking.”
However, with four grandchildren and a husband who might enjoy traveling in retirement, the 64-year-old Anton is clear about one thing: “I’ll write it on my own time. I’ll write it like I wrote the first volume of ‘Rashi’s Daughters.’ I’ll write the book I want to read.”
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From a Romanian village to Jewish Los Angeles
The journey to Judaism was a long one for Kinga Dobos. She grew up in a poor village in Romania and struggled to fit in as a teenager in Hungary. She worked for years as an au pair in Great Britain and the United States, and it was the Jewish families that took her into their homes and welcomed her into their communities that persuaded her to entwine her destiny with theirs.
The slender 39-year-old redhead speaks with a slight British accent, which she picked up while studying English in London. She studied Jewish history at Santa Monica College and in Rabbi Neal Weinberg’s “Judaism by Choice” program, and converted in 2011 at American Jewish University.
“I just felt culturally Jewish, and I wanted to be legitimate,” she said. “Nearly everybody I worked for in Los Angeles was Jewish, or one parent was Jewish. I was part of their lives, and I became fond of their culture. The emphasis on education. The close-knit family. No matter what your economic status is, you have an obligation to help others, because there’s always someone who is worse off than you are. And these were not everyday observations that I grew up with.”
She lives in Playa Del Rey, works as a video editor, and is active in Sinai Temple’s Atid young professionals group. She’s also writing a book of short stories based on her life. On Shavuot, she’ll have a bat mitzvah at Sinai Temple.
Dobos was born in Transylvania, a beautiful and historic region of Romania that was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire until the end of World War I. Her family is Hungarian, and her Romanian classmates teased her about her accent. Despite the economic hardships during the communist regime of Nicolae Ceausescu, she has fond memories of childhood in the industrial city of Brasov.
“It’s built around a mountain. We have very nice ski resorts there. My childhood was [spent] outdoors a lot. We were doing sports in the winter and going hiking and camping in the summer,” she said.
Her parents held odd jobs through the 1980s; her mother was a salesperson and a cleaner, her father was a house painter and held a government job overseeing heating for the city, even though the city had no heat.
“I remember, he was playing a lot of chess with his colleague. It was kind of a phony communist job. The one good thing about that job is, we went to his job once a week — my mom, my brother and I — and could shower there, because otherwise we had no warm water,” she said. “Our electricity was sporadic, we had it for a few hours at night, but we didn’t know when we would have it and for how long.”
Dobos’ relatives were all Christian, and she enjoyed attending church, where she could listen to Bible stories and speak freely with her Hungarian friends.
In 1989, in the months leading up to the fall of the communist regime, her parents escaped Romania and went to Budapest, Hungary. She and her brother stayed behind with their grandparents. The family reunited eight months later, after the revolution and Ceausescu’s execution. Dobos, then 14, boarded a train to Budapest carrying a duffel bag of clothes, a sewing machine and the dream of a better life.
“I was so idealistic and so naive,” she said. “In Romania, we always had to fight for necessities, for food and water and electricity. I thought once we moved to Hungary all of our problems were going to be solved.”
But life in Hungary wasn’t so easy. People viewed Transylvanians as less intelligent, and Dobos was again teased for her manner of speech.
“It’s as if I had a Southern accent and moved to California,” she said. “My classmates would mock my dialect. Every time I tried to talk, someone would repeat what I said, and it hurt my feelings.”
With her parents each working two jobs, and a guidance counselor who she says discriminated against her, she fell through the cracks at school. Despite her straight A’s, she was placed in a trade program rather than an academic one. She hated her classes, but graduated from secretarial school while working at a warehouse with her brother. She also volunteered at a Hungarian TV station, A3, where she took call-in requests for a music video show. After a few months, the station went bankrupt and she moved to England to be au pair.
She first worked for a family in Essex, but it wasn’t a good fit. Then she moved in with a Jewish family in London and lived there for a year. They had three daughters, and the father’s parents were Holocaust survivors. They kept a kosher home and asked her to keep kosher, even when she was outside the house. It was her first time learning about Judaism, she said.
“When I grew up and someone would say ‘Jew,’ people would usually whisper that word. So when I was very little, I thought maybe Jew was a dirty word,” she said.
The mother of the family tutored Dobos in English, and, after a year, she spoke fluently. She signed up with a Hungarian nanny agency and moved to Los Angeles to be close to the film industry. Her first job was in Huntington Beach, working for a divorced man with two young children, but after a few weeks she quit.
She answered a classified ad in the Los Angeles Times and found work with Dena Kleeman, a Jewish divorcee with two children and a law firm in Beverly Hills.
“I hadn’t seen such a confident and assertive person before. I loved working for her. She was really good at balancing being a mom and working really hard. I hadn’t seen that in Romania or Hungary,” she said.
After her visa expired, she moved back to Hungary but soon got a call from Kleeman. Her boyfriend, who was also divorced with two children, needed a live-in nanny. Dobos worked for his family for two years, as well as for Kleeman’s sister, Maura Resnick, while studying at Santa Monica College. She transferred to UCLA to study film production, graduating in 2005.
“She worked to support herself. She really did it all on her own,” Resnick said. “I have such incredible admiration for that. I think she’s such a strong person. And she’s really a self-made person.”
She still helps Dena and Maura’s parents, Charles and Annette Kleeman, both 91, with household chores and errands.
“She’s a very intelligent and kind and loving and generous person, and a terrific help to us,” Annette Kleeman said.
After graduating from UCLA, Dobos adapted two books into feature screenplays and worked as a producer’s associate on a documentary film.
When the recession hit, she went back to Hungary to visit her parents and spend time with her brother and his children. But after 13 years of living in the U.S., she said, she was stunned by the levels of misogyny and anti-Semitism she encountered in Eastern Europe.
“I realized I cannot live in that culture anymore. I’m too American and too Jewish,” she said, laughing. “There’s a great saying I heard: The mind that expands to new awareness can never go back to its original state.”
Dobos is struggling to make it in the cutthroat film industry. She’s writing a memoir and is considering going to law school. She’s dating a Jewish man and hopes to start her own family soon. She said her parents have supported her in every decision she’s made.
“When I fast on Yom Kippur, my mom fasts with me in Hungary. That’s the sweetest thing ever. She’s not Jewish. She’s very religious, she’s Protestant, but she wants to be with me in spirit.”
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Navigating grief’s wilderness: Parashat Bamidbar (Numbers 1:1-4:20)
“You must make yourself like a wilderness in order to receive the Torah” (Bamidbar Rabbah 19:26).
This week’s parsha, Bamidbar, begins the Book of the Wilderness, more commonly known as the Book of Numbers. We return to the narrative of the journey from Egypt to the Promised Land, equipped with Leviticus’ revelation of the ritual technology, given to Moses at Mount Sinai, for maintaining a connection with The Holy. This technology provides metaphors for today’s efforts to find alignment with Holiness.
Many commentators, most recently Avivah Zornberg, have explored the etymological and experiential connection between the words for wilderness, “midbar,” and for speech, “diber,” which share a three-letter linguistic root. In my work, with those traversing what I call “the wilderness of grief,” the connection between the words is clear: Those I shepherd struggle literally “to come to terms” with their loss.
I have tried to map the wilderness of grief, in order to make it more navigable and help mourners find their voice, by configuring the stages of grief as five sukkot, corresponding loosely to Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’ formulation of the five stages of grief. Each is a place mourners are commanded to live, but only temporarily, like the command that we reside in the temporary shelters we create during Sukkot.
I have given each sukkah a holy Hebrew name, aligned it with one of grief’s emotional experiences, and created meditative and expressive exercises to facilitate expression of the relevant feelings. My hope: Emphasizing grief’s dwelling places as transitory, essential and holy, will make them less frightening, encouraging those who suffer to explore each sukkah fully in order to seek wisdom on the mourners’ path.
Choosing words to describe and contain the experiences of those making their way through the wilderness of grief is a humbling task. Using language to shape an empty space has prestigious biblical antecedents. According to Genesis, the world was created out of chaos through the words of God (Bereshit 1:1-31). Medieval Jewish philosophy referred to human beings as “midaber” (creatures who speak), according to 20th-century philosopher and historian Gershom Scholem. It was in the wilderness that the Ten Commandments and the Torah, words to shape human behavior, were given.
It is my hope that those who traverse this wilderness will “come to terms” not just with individual loss, but also with what it means to be human, creating new worlds for themselves from grief’s chaos and forging a new relationship with God. Grief becomes a spiritual path.
The time in the wilderness is a time of great vulnerability. This is certainly true for those in the crucible of grief work, where it feels as if the Divine Energy has withdrawn, shattering the world and hiding its holiness. It is here that the mourner enters the tents of the Wilderness of Mourning to confront grief’s broken, uncontained feelings to face grief work’s intensity. I hope each of these sukkot can provide the environment, in the words of the Mourner’s Kaddish, “hamakom yenachem (place of comfort),” needed for the work of grief.
Avodah, Hebrew for “work,” is the name for the sacrificial service performed in Jerusalem’s ancient Temple and the Yom Kippur service commemorating those practices. The sacrifices (korbanot, meaning “drawing near”) were the vehicles to bring closeness to God and realignment with holiness. Sacrifice provided the spiritual technology enabling transformation from physical (the sacrificial offering) to spiritual (closeness with God). In grief’s wilderness, the mourner, too, seeks the transformation of what has been prominent in his or her physical world to a spiritual connection.
Indeed, through these unbidden sacrifices, which propel individuals to the mourners’ path, the mourner can be brought closer to God. Although grief work mostly focuses on the loss of an individual, often it is about reclaiming and reconstructing closeness to the Holy Presence, which is hidden in the torment of loss and change, causing doubt and shattering faith.
During this time in the wilderness, fractious emotional states are evident, including experiences of anger, depression and anxiety. On this nonlinear and often chaotic path, the mourner ricochets from one feeling to another. These broken feelings make their way into the containment and shelter provided by the sukkot. I hope that by distilling each feeling from the chaos of grief and assigning it to a specific sukkah, feelings will become less frightening and more manageable. Each sukkah holds an important truth about the human experience. Each reveals another place where one encounters, through the lenses of the emotions, another face of the Divine.
Within each of the five tents in our wilderness of mourning, the mourner will find very different opportunities for struggle, growth and healing. When the mourner is ready to leave the tents, it is my hope that he or she will be transformed and able to utter the words, which, in the Book of Bamidbar, signify the transformation of what started out as a curse into a blessing:
Ma tovu, ohalecha Yaakov, mishkanotecha Yisrael! How good are your tents, Jacob, your dwelling places Israel!
And to exclaim, as Jacob did as he began his journey, “God was in this place and I, I knew it not.”
Rabbi Anne Brener, an L.A.-based psychotherapist and spiritual director, is a professor at the Academy for Jewish Religion, California, and author of “Mourning & Mitzvah: Walking the Mourner’s Path” (Jewish Lights Publishing).
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Arms open wide to embrace everything Israel
The smell of schnitzel was in the air. The sounds of Israeli music and Hebrew were, too. But love … that remained firmly earthbound at the Celebrate Israel Festival, held May 17 at Rancho Park.
That’s where a giant, 12-foot-tall replica of the Ahava (“love” in Hebrew) sculpture from the Israel Museum in Jerusalem made a perfect spot for photos as about 14,000 people entered the festival grounds.
Sponsored by the Israeli-American Council (IAC) in honor of Israel’s 67th Independence Day, the annual gathering gave attendees a chance to express their love for all things Israel. It was a sea of blue and white, with Stars of David out in full force, and supportive T-shirts with messages such as “Israel Is Real.”
A vendor village of booths from many community nonprofits, schools and businesses offered much to explore — not to mention free goodies. Organizations that were represented ranged from the Jewish fraternity Alpha Epsilon Pi to Kadima Day School to The Jewish Federation of Greater Los Angeles. There were Israeli artists and locals selling jewelry, art, Judaica and other items.
For many, though, it was all about the food, and is there a better place to find food than an Israeli festival? Festive guests satisfied their cravings with falafel, shawarma and more from a variety of glatt kosher vendors. Lines of hungry festival goers snaked back to the table area, which served as a social hub for friends and families to chat.
There were plenty of attractions for youth after their appetites were sated. Wide-eyed children crowded in front of a small stage to watch a comedy performance by Israeli children’s entertainer Dod Haim and a music performance by Naama Atal. The smiles on the children’s faces continued while they were entertained by a Puff the Magic Dragon puppet show.
A carnival area offered families a variety of rides and games. One boy couldn’t contain his laughter as he rode a kiddie-sized mechanical bull. Bigger kids enjoyed more hair-raising rides with names such as Kamikaze and Crazy Plane.
Teens had their own area under a tent near the main stage, where they could play pingpong, billiards, air hockey and video games. Additionally, the Israeli Scouts (Tzofim) had a small soccer field where many kids had fun.
Jewish Journal columnist and radio personality Dennis Prager hosted an official ceremony, and Los Angeles Mayor Eric Garcetti offered a recorded video message. The Celebrate Israel Festival closed with a performance by Israeli vocalist and former “The Voice Israel” judge Shlomi Shabat, who attracted a large crowd to watch the performance and sing along.
In addition to the IAC, the other major sponsors were Debbie and Naty Saidoff. There were more than 170 partner organizations that helped as well.
Among those who were present, according to festival officials, were Congressman Ed Royce; Los Angeles City Controller Ron Galperin; Los Angeles Unified School District Board Member Steve Zimmer; L.A. City Councilmembers Bob Blumenfield, Paul Koretz, Mitchell Englander, Paul Krekorian, Tom LaBonge and Jose Huizar; Israel Consul General in Los Angeles David Siegel; and Les Bider, board chair of The Jewish Federation of Greater Los Angeles.
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Moving and Shaking: Celebrate Israel Festival
Finished projects in the festival’s arts and crafts area. Photo by Siara Groch
Israeli Scouts parade with American and Israeli flags during the May 17 Celebrate Israel Festival, organized by the Israeli-American Council. Photo courtesy of IAC
Miri Shepher, chair of the Israeli-American Council’s L.A. regional council, and her husband, Isaac, (right), with Israeli pop star Shlomi Shabat at the Celebrate Israel Festival. Photo courtesy of IAC
Families watch a puppet show at the festival, which drew more than 14,000 people to Rancho Park. Photo by Siara Groch
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10 tips for summer outdoor entertaining
This Memorial Day weekend kicks off the summer party season. And although Southern California enjoys warm weather year-round, the longer days can make summer parties even more enjoyable. But if the thought of planning a gathering stresses you out, here are some tips to help you relax while you get the party started. Summer entertaining should be fun and effortless.
Keep it simple.
Now is not the time to test that elaborate new recipe you’ve been wanting to try. You don’t want to be stuck in the kitchen, especially if your guests are outside on the patio. Prepare dishes ahead of time that can be reheated. Or better yet, plan for food that can be served cold or at room temperature. Also, avoid food that requires a knife to eat, as maneuvering utensils can be a challenge for guests who are standing or sitting on the grass.
Bring the indoors out.
Just because you’re entertaining outside doesn’t mean you have to rough it. Borrow the pillows from the living room so guests can be more comfortable. Take out the dining table or a hallway console table, and use it as a bar. If you have people who can help you to carry them, bring a big chair, or even a sofa, onto your patio.
Have multiple seating arrangements.
If you can spread out in your backyard, take advantage of the space. In addition to a main dining area, set up little pockets of seating all around so friends and family can move around and mingle. You can even hang a mesh canopy from a tree for anyone who wants a private tête-à-tête.
A canopy over a bench provides another seating area for guests to mix and mingle.
Let there be light.
Make sure there’s plenty of light to illuminate your space after the sun sets. String lights add a festive feel over a patio, and hurricane or votive candles cast a welcome, warm glow. You may also consider battery-operated LED candles so you don’t have to worry about leaving them unattended.
Get real.
It’s tempting to use paper plates and disposable forks, but ceramic (or even colorful-yet-durable plastic) plates and real flatware can help elevate the party. You can find inexpensive plates at the dollar store. And if you really want disposable dishes, try the bamboo plates available at health food stores; at least they won’t linger in the landfill.
Have blankets and sweaters handy.
Temperatures tend to drop markedly in the evenings here in Southern California, and guests may not be prepared for the cold. As a courtesy, have some blankets and sweaters on hand in case anyone needs to warm up. It’s these little things that guests remember.
Invite the neighbors.
Because outdoor parties can get noisy, invite your neighbors beforehand. Your invitation is not only a nice gesture, it also serves as a heads-up that there will be festivities, and possibly some noise. You’ll also be less likely to receive any complaints this way.
Don’t invite the insects.
Keep those pesky mosquitoes from spoiling your party by lighting citronella candles all around your yard. It’s also a good idea to provide some insect repellant lotion or spray for guests if they need it. And if food will be out for an extended period, purchase mesh covers that can go over the platters to keep out the flies.
Accept help.
Don’t be a control freak. If any of your guests offer to bring something, say “yes.” Having even one fewer dish to prepare will free you up to do something else. And if you really insist on preparing all the food yourself, assign each guest some responsibility, such as putting someone in charge of serving drinks.
Factor in fun.
Even if there won’t be any kids at the party, consider having some activities and games available. Everyone’s a kid at heart. Badminton and croquet are popular summer party games, but even having just a hula hoop available can help break the ice — and make for some great photo opportunities.
Jonathan Fong is the author of “Walls That Wow,” “Flowers That Wow” and “Parties That Wow,” and host of “Style With a Smile” on YouTube. You can see more of his do-it-yourself projects at jonathanfongstyle.com.
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URJ and NFTY sued over sand fly bites on Israel youth trip
Parents of four Jewish high school students in Los Angeles County filed a lawsuit on May 4 alleging that the Union for Reform Judaism (URJ) and its youth movement, the North American Federation of Temple Youth (NFTY), did not adequately warn and protect their children from infected sand flies during a 2014 group trip to Israel.
The complaint filed in Los Angeles Superior Court states that the four high school students each were bitten multiple times by the sand flies and as a result contracted leishmaniasis, a parasitic disease that, according to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), often causes painful skin ulcers, swollen glands, and, in serious cases. swelling of the spleen and liver, as well as low red and white blood-cell counts. Some sores can take months or years to heal and can leave behind “ugly scars”, according to the CDC’s website. The CDC estimates that between 900,000 and 1.6 million people contract leishmaniasis every year. It’s known to exist in parts of the Far East, the Middle East, Africa, Mexico and Central and South America.
The suit lists only the students’ initials and the parents’ first name and last initial, does not name any of the NFTY staff members on the trip to Israel, and does not detail the injuries suffered by the students. The plaintiffs argue that the defendants were negligent in not warning the students or their families about the possible presence of infected sand flies in some places they visited in Israel, and also in failing to provide the students with insect repellant or bed nets. The four families also allege that the teenagers were sleeping on “bug infested bedding”.
The attorney representing the plaintiffs, John C. Taylor of Taylor & Ring, LLP, did not respond to multiple requests for comment, and a spokeswoman for the URJ did not provide comment before this story went to press. Taylor, though, previously told the Los Angeles Times the students have had “ongoing medical treatment with little success” to treat the leishmaniasis and that the URJ and NFTY “had previous problems” with sand flies but still didn’t warn the students or their parents.
Although there are no vaccines that can prevent the contraction of leishmaniasis, the CDC recommends avoiding overnight outdoor activities where sand flies are present, applying insecticide, and, if not sleeping in a well-screened indoor area, sleeping in a bed protected by a bed net.
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A German Jew who served the U.S. at Utah Beach
“Col. James Van Fleet took me aside and said, ‘Bodlander, since you speak both French and German, I want you on my boat when we go ashore. And, incidentally, I will be the first person to step onto land; you’ll be the second,’ ” Walter Bodlander said in a recent interview.
“Land,” in this case, was Utah Beach in Normandy, France. The date was June 6, 1944.
Nearly 71 years later, on May 8, 2015, Capt. Walter Bodlander was awarded the French Legion of Honor in a ceremony aboard the USS Iowa, in San Pedro.
Born in Breslau, Germany, in 1920, Bodlander didn’t know he was Jewish until he was 12. “My father, Franz Bodlander, mistrusted all organized religions, so he didn’t tell me, until the Nazis came to power. Then he wanted me to understand our vulnerability and to feel pride in my Jewish heritage. I went from being a proud German to becoming a proud Jew.”
The Bodlanders sent their son to study in Switzerland, at Ecole de Commerce, in 1935. The next year, Franz suffered a fatal heart attack, which his son thought was a result of the stress under the Nazis. “With great difficulty and financial loss, my mother sold our business. She was anxious to leave Germany, and, fortunately, a wealthy uncle procured visas to Palestine for us both. Immediately after Kristallnacht, my mother left.”
Bodlander, who is also the author of “The Unauthorized Autobiography of W.B.: The War Years (1933-1945) (Twentieth Century, 2012), graduated in June 1939. Over the following months, he tried to join France’s army, was rejected for being German and was threatened with internment. Bodlander joined his mother in Palestine while awaiting a visa to the United States. Finally, after four months on an Egyptian merchant ship, he arrived in New York in January 1941.
The young Bodlander felt strongly that America should join the war. “After Pearl Harbor was attacked, Congress passed a law allowing resident aliens to volunteer for service, and I immediately joined the Army.”
Bodlander went from basic training to officers training to military intelligence training. In June 1943, he was given command of Interrogation of Prisoners of War Team 34, consisting of six men and two jeeps. They reported to the 8th Infantry Regiment in Exeter, England.
“We knew that we’d be the assault regiment in the invasion of Europe. In July of ’43, we started training, which included physical exercise, waterproofing all vehicles for immersion in saltwater, then undoing the waterproofing once on land so the vehicles wouldn’t overheat.
“Once out on the LCVP, the landing craft that carried the vehicles and men to shore, we jumped into deep water, holding rifles overhead as we made it to shore. We did all of this over and over again. Every time we went through our maneuvers, we hoped that this would be the actual invasion. It never was.”
“Then, in early June 1944, we got orders to move out. “The convoy stopped in a camouflaged field, divided into units. The officers were summoned to a tent with huge tables covered with relief maps. That’s when we discovered that our divisions were to land at Utah and Omaha beaches. We studied the relief maps and were briefed: ‘You’ll land here. Notice the trees over there and the two windmills to the left. Here’s the road.’ ”
It was when Bodlander was leaving the tent that he recalls Van Fleet informed him that they would be the first two people on Utah Beach.
On June 4, the convoy moved onward to the embarkation point. “Local townspeople were along the road, shouting and throwing flowers, as if they knew something was about to happen. How they knew before we did is still a mystery to me.”
Bodlander recalls that the plan was to land the next morning, June 5. “The weather couldn’t have been worse — pouring rain and cold. There was no shelter. Through that day and night, and the next day and night, the seas were rough, the rain unrelenting. Everyone was soaking wet and miserable. Many of us were seasick.”
Bodlander was reaching his limit. “I thought, I’d rather be shot than spend another hour on this boat.”
Early on the morning of June 6, they saw the first Allied bombers overhead. Bodlander was relieved and excited. “I knew it was history — that this was going to be on the radio everywhere! And yes, Van Fleet was the first to step on land, and I was the second.”
Unfortunately, Bodlander said, nothing in the terrain resembled the maps they’d seen. No trees. No windmills. No road. The storm had pushed their boat two miles from the intended landing site.
“Nobody knew where we were, and it started raining artillery and mortars. Things went from exciting to very unpleasant and frightening. Several people were killed or injured. I had only a pistol and a rifle with me. My machine gun was on my jeep, and my jeep was somewhere else. There was little I could do; I gave my morphine to one of the injured men.”
The first German prisoners were soon brought to the beach for Bodlander and his team to interrogate. “They were scared like we were, with no protection from incoming shells. I was able to get some information from them, and then I was to return to my unit. But it was dark and raining, and I was lost. All I could do was hide under some hedgerows with the mortar and artillery around me.”
Ellie Kahn is an oral historian and documentary filmmaker. She blogs at A German Jew who served the U.S. at Utah Beach Read More »
Heroes to Heroes helps U.S. soldiers heal their psychic wounds
With his two kids out of the house, retired Army Sgt. Harrison Manyoma planned to commit suicide on Aug. 10, 2012. But a Jewish mother from New Jersey derailed his plans.
Judy Schaffer started Heroes to Heroes after meeting wounded war veterans at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Maryland at a Christmas party she helped organize in 2009. The meeting haunted her.
The soldiers Schaffer met had volunteered to serve so that American boys, like her two sons, did not have to go, did not have to risk their lives, did not have to return to the United States, as Manyoma did, with physical injuries from a roadside explosion in Iraq and psychic wounds that no one could see. When Schaffer, a radio sales representative, learned that 22 veterans commit suicide every day, she wondered how Americans could live with that statistic.
Shortly after the holiday party at Walter Reed, she happened to sit next to an Israeli soldier on a plane. She asked him how Israelis recuperate from the emotional pain of combat. Israel has a military culture, he told her, because service is compulsory. So everyone knows a wounded vet. Everyone understands post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
Something clicked for Schaffer. Could it possibly help veterans to visit Israel? Could linking Israeli soldiers with American vets be a healing experience? Could visiting the holiest place on Earth help restore their faith in life? Schaffer developed a business plan and started fundraising.
Heroes to Heroes took its first group of veterans to Israel in 2011, attempting to restore a sense of peace to ex-soldiers who, in some cases, had been suffering from PTSD for years, had lost jobs, lost relationships or were as deeply depressed as Manyoma.
On the day Manyoma planned to kill himself, he received a call at his home in Texas inviting him on a 10-day trip, along with nine other former soldiers whose lives had been upended by wars in Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. The trip transformed him.
Now the man who had sought to end his life serves as a coach for Heroes to Heroes. For the group’s sixth trip to Israel, in February, Manyoma helped select the vets who would most benefit from the experience, monitored each ex-soldier once on Israeli soil, and worked with his Israeli counterparts, who accompanied the Americans on their journey.
From his own experience, Manyoma knew that simply being in a country that honors its veterans every day would have an intense impact on the former soldiers. And it did. A veteran of the Vietnam War who hadn’t spoken about his experience in 45 years opened up to fellow vets after his first night in Jerusalem.
Heroes to Heroes team gathers at the Western Wall.
Manyoma had a similar experience on his initial trip to Israel. He felt a sensation coursing through his arm as he placed his hand on the Western Wall. He began sobbing, but at the same time, experienced a joy he had not known for some time. He opened up emotionally, talked about his feelings and slept better that night than he had since December 2004, when he was wounded in Iraq.
On each trip, the former soldiers are purposely asked to adhere to a tight schedule. Many have not followed a routine for years and arrive in Israel with little interest in life. Their attitude starts to change as they visit the Western Wall, the Mount of Olives, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and Yad Vashem. Some walk the Stations of the Cross or undergo a baptism in the Jordan River as a symbol of renewal. All plant a tree in the Lavi Forest in honor of people they have lost or for their children. According to Schaffer, planting a tree for their kids means they are choosing to live.
During the second trip that Heroes to Heroes made, vets met with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who listened to each soldier, shared his own wartime experience and related the heartbreak of losing his brother at the raid on Entebbe in 1976. On their most recent trip, vets met with Israeli Defense Minister Moshe Ya’alon.
Along with the social and emotional aspects of the program, there is a physical element. Vets are asked to ride a bicycle. Most haven’t been on a bike in years, many haven’t been active at all, and some are in physical distress. They’ve taken painkillers or used drugs and alcohol. They’re scared to get on a bike. They worry they will fall. No one has.
The vets return to the United States changed. Manyoma said his son and daughter saw a different man when he came home. “Daddy’s back,” his daughter told him. “The trip opened my heart,” he said.
Heroes to Heroes, which is run by volunteers, has so far been limited to two trips a year because of the financial commitment each visit requires. Schaffer has solicited donors, applied for a grant and is now discussing the possibility that a film could be made about the organization. Her goal is to take four teams to Israel in 2015, to reach people who desperately need help, to throw them a lifeline before they crash, to help them heal.
To learn more, visit this story at jewishjournal.com.
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