fbpx

October 5, 2016

The election we are not having

The presidential election is a critical element of our American representative democracy. We are a republic, not a pure democracy. Most decisions are made by our elected representatives. They steer the ship of state. We, the public, don’t pay a great deal of attention to most of the elections that put them in office, or remove them from those same offices — whether for Congress or for state and local offices.

But we do pay attention once every four years to the presidential election. Turnout skyrockets, and everybody talks about the campaign. It’s our one true chance to affect the ship of state, to select a captain and to provide popular guidance for the direction our ship will take. And usually the election provides, in a very rough way, a competing set of directions from which to choose, along with the critical choice of the person who will steer. Often the simplest way to decide is to consider whether the direction set by the current administration is working fine, should be amended or should be reversed.

That is, until this year.

In 2016, one candidate, Donald Trump, has so enveloped and dominated the race that the normal functioning of the presidential election has been seriously clouded. Both Trump and Hillary Clinton have an interest in the election being conducted that way. Trump has only one speed, and it’s all about him. As long as he is steering the ship, he says, all will be well no matter where we are headed. For Clinton, Trump’s liabilities as a candidate have elevated to center stage her argument that he is unfit to hold the captain’s chair. 

She may have a chance at turning into a winning argument Michael Dukakis’ failed 1988 campaign pitch: that this election is not about ideology (aka direction) but about competence, given that she is running against a person with no political experience and massive weaknesses, whereas Dukakis was facing an experienced, sitting vice president, George H.W. Bush. And Bush, remember, proposed to carry out the popular policies of Ronald Reagan, even as he sent a subtle message that he would carve out his own, more moderate path that would lead to “a kinder, gentler” America.

Clinton’s calculations make practical sense. Trump can’t be anything other than who he is, and the candidates’ side-by-side fitness calculation may well win the race for Clinton.

But if you want a clue to why so many millennials seem to have tuned out much of the election news, why they think the race doesn’t really matter, that the two candidates aren’t much different from each other, and are leaning toward throwing away their votes on third and fourth candidates, we should consider the limitations for our democracy of the framing of this election. After all, these younger voters have grown up in an era of an exploding celebrity culture in which bad behavior by famous people is not nearly as shocking as it used to be. 

So, what’s at stake? For the Jewish community, in particular, there are important issues that need to be addressed during the campaign.

The first presidential debate did introduce some important direction issues, such as tax cuts as a means to generate jobs, a brief mention of the Iran deal and matters of race and policing. But the discussion of the issues passed a little too quickly, with the candidates referring us to their websites for more detail. 

Here’s what I would like to hear the candidates address in the coming debates:

1. What is your assessment of the Barack Obama presidency? Do you favor continuing the policies Obama has pursued or implemented? Even in those cases where you generally favor the president’s policies, are there ways in which you would chart a different course?

2. Do you believe that climate change is man-made? If so, what policies do you favor to deal with climate change? Do you favor the Paris agreement on climate change, and if not, would you withdraw from it if you are elected?

3. The Supreme Court is now divided 4-4. If you become president and choose the ninth justice, who would offer the fifth and deciding vote on many issues, are there any decisions made by the previous full court that you hope to reverse? Specifically, would you favor a different direction on voting rights? Or on Roe v. Wade?

4. The United States recently reached an agreement to send a large package of military aid to Israel. What is your assessment of this package and of Israel’s strategic relationship to the United States? What is your opinion of the movement, including on some college campuses, to divest from Israel?

5. The Iran agreement has been a source of disagreement. Do you intend to maintain, reverse or amend the agreement? 

6. Do you favor or oppose voter ID laws that have now been adopted in a number of states? 

I could go on, but I’d rather return to my original point, which is that even though the election is likely to end up as a referendum on the comparative fitness of the two leading candidates to captain our ship, it is imperative that we keep our eyes on the ship’s direction. It will be four more long years before we get another chance.


RAPHAEL J. SONENSHEIN is executive director of the Pat Brown Institute at Cal State L.A. 

The election we are not having Read More »

Face Your Fear: Writing Lessons from Big Magic

” target=”_blank”>My path has been full of bumps in the road and the most important thing is as Elizabeth Gilbert says in her book, “   Next, next, next—always next. Keep moving, keep going. Whatever you do, try not to dwell too long on your failures.”

The most important thing is to continue. As Gilbert tells us: “The central question upon which all creative living hinges is ‘Do you have the courage to bring forth the treasures that are hidden within you?’” I believe that you do! I will keep hope for you as others kept hope for me when I could not see it. It is crucial that you live “a life that is driven more strongly by curiosity than by fear.

I have been afraid of fear and like Gilbert very terrified of things. But like her, I did it anyway. You must decide like Eleanor Roosevelt said and “Do one thing every day that scares you.”

Dearest Fear: Creativity and I are about to go on a road trip together. I understand you’ll be joining us, because you always do. I acknowledge that you believe you have an important job to do in my life, and that you take your job seriously…But I will also be doing my job on this road trip, which is to work hard and stay focused. And Creativity will be doing its job, which is to remain stimulating and inspiring. There’s plenty of room in this car…Creativity and I are the only ones who will be making any decisions along the way…You’re allowed to have a seat, and you’re allowed to have a voice, but you are not allowed to have a vote…But above all else, my dear old familiar friend, you are absolutely forbidden to drive.”

I love the idea to write a letter to fear and tell her, you are not allowed to drive! The driver and decision maker will no longer be fear. You can do it!

Gilbert echoed what I heard recently at my ceramics studio. David was teaching a group of new students and one asked, “How do you know when the clay is centered?” David responded: “When you are done, you’re done.” I love this response although my guess is it did not feel helpful to the student who asked who did not know when to be done. This permission to decide felt remarkable to me and was echoed when Gilbert wrote:

When can you start pursuing your most creative and passionate life? You can start whenever you decide to start.

I invite you to start now. Share a story in my We Said Go   

Face Your Fear: Writing Lessons from Big Magic Read More »

When a rabbi fails

When I first saw the synagogue letterhead, I was consumed by curiosity. 

The words had the same kind of shock-and-awe effect as the news that Brad and Angelina were divorcing. But this matter was heavier, closer. The dissolution of a different kind of fairy tale, between Jews and their leader. 

The flash of excitement caused by epic gossip quickly gave way to heartache and grief.

“Dear Friends,” the letter began. “With the high holy days a month away, I write to share some painful news …”

It came from the president of the Miami congregation I grew up in, telling us our longtime senior rabbi had self-reported to the Reform movement’s Central Conference of American Rabbis (CCAR) that he had engaged in “moral failures” during his service.

Because of this, he is now required to undergo an intensive teshuvah process and has been suspended indefinitely “from the practice of the rabbinate in any institution.” 

There are emotions we feel at moments in our lives that are indescribable. For me, this was one of them. And it was compounded by the fact that this was not about my private feelings alone, it was an event that shook our entire community. Most especially, it hurt my rabbi’s family — his four amazing sons and his former wife, a true eshet chayil and balabusta, if ever I’ve met one. For many people, the fallout from this quake will endure.

I first met my rabbi when I was in sixth grade and a student in the synagogue’s day school. We became fast friends when, at 12, I told him he was destroying our community with his plans to remodel our campus and build a new sanctuary. He reported to my mother that I was “petulant.” I took it as a compliment — proud that my personality inspired a word I had to look up in the dictionary.

I still remember the 30 minutes I got to spend with him while preparing for my bat mitzvah. I was mesmerized by the way he opened up the possibilities of Torah and made it a book I wanted to read. I still remember our conversation, how excited I was to write and deliver my drash. In just one meeting, he had awakened me to the essence of Jewish tradition and created in me a craving for Torah that lives to this day. He did the same for my mother, who grew up in a Christian home after her own mother died, inspiring her to re-engage her Judaism as an adult and create a Shabbat experience for her family. 

Over the years, my rabbi became a kind of father figure to me. I can’t recount how many times I sat in his study, sharing my struggles and dreams, and seeking his wisdom, which he offered unreservedly. He encouraged me to make the most important decision of my young life — to move to California — and in doing so, helped me become an adult.   

Part of me understands why he faltered. That he had a burning need to explore parts of himself and his dreams that had long been prohibited by his circumscribed life as a religious leader. I can imagine the strain he must have felt with all that responsibility — to take on the problems of the world, the politics of a community, the private pain of individual congregants, the needs of a growing family — and how all that left very little space for himself.  

But another part of me is disappointed and hurt. He was supposed to be the model of morality, not the transgressor. He was supposed to do better than everyone else. 

In the weeks since I read the letter, I’ve wrestled with a central question: Is it unreasonable to expect that our spiritual leaders (and, dare I say, political leaders) should behave better than we do?   

Years ago, a young rabbi that I knew told me that, sometimes, what he most craved was “the opposite of responsibility.”

“Any rabbi worth their salt knows they are one step away from a fall from grace,” another recently told me. “And anyone who doesn’t know that is not self-aware.”

I know that some members of my Miami community will gloat over this. My rabbi was at times a polarizing figure, a strong, fiercely intelligent, willful leader. He had foes, and he sometimes made people angry and turned them off. But to others, he was a champion, a natural leader who could play many of the roles God plays in the Bible — at times an omniscient ruler, at other times a protector, provider, teacher and, for many, including myself, a healer of shattered hearts.

The one role hardest for a rabbi to play, however, is human being. So much is projected upon them. But if there’s anything I’ve learned after a lifetime in the Jewish community and 10 years in Jewish journalism, it’s that they’re all human beings. All rabbis are flawed; some even have dark sides, which are revealed from time to time. Part of the problem is that often their humanity gets masked by their outsized charisma, talent, brilliance and authority. As congregants, we prefer to dwell in the glow of the symbolic exemplar; we need to believe our rabbis are an embodiment of God in the world. Otherwise, what hope is there for the rest of us?

I’m not sure what my rabbi will have to do during his teshuvah process. But I am sure he will encounter wounds he cannot repair. I ache for my community, whose sacred trust in their leader was betrayed. And for the temple’s new rabbi, who has a mess of brokenness to clean up. I ache for the family my rabbi let down, because short of death or illness, there is no greater pain for a child than a parent who falls from grace. Parents are supposed to be the heroes; so are our rabbis.

And I am deeply heartbroken for my rabbi, himself. This transgression will stain an otherwise remarkable legacy as a pulpit rabbi, author, counselor, movement leader and visionary. 

During this year’s Yamim Noraim, holy days, I will bear in mind that just because our rabbis lead us in repentance does not mean that they do not repent themselves. The tradition exempts no one in our community from this holy task. After all, the rabbis created these rituals because they apply to them, too. Only God is perfect. 

A few days before Rosh Hashanah, my rabbi sent a letter to the congregation asking for forgiveness. I hope he knows that he has mine.


Danielle Berrin is a senior writer and columnist at the Jewish Journal.

When a rabbi fails Read More »

Party celebrates Jewish Home residents who are 100 years young

You could say it was the party of the century. 

On Sept. 22, National Centenarian Day, the Los Angeles Jewish Home in Reseda threw a birthday party unlike any other: a celebration of its residents ages 100 and older.

And it was a bigger party than you might think — 36 women and two men ranging in age from 100 to 105 were feted for their accomplishment in aging gracefully that puts them in the same ballpark as the Jewish Home itself.

“The home is 104 years old this year,” said CEO Molly Forrest, who spoke following a blessing by Rabbi Karen Bender, Los Angeles Jewish Home director of spiritual life and Grancell Village rabbi. “We thought it was appropriate to take a moment to think about what a long time 100 years is. Out of those who live in the Jewish Home on a long-term basis, 5 percent of our residents are over 100. We believe that every day of life matters and that you take hold of each day with zest and interest and a great attitude.”

The Jewish Home has held its annual Walk of Ages in honor of its centenarians since 2000. This year’s event is slated for Nov. 20 at Woodley Park in Van Nuys. But the birthday bash was a first.

Because even one 100th birthday is a big deal, this occasion merited some serious fanfare. The Schulman Activities Center at Grancell Village was decorated in white and gold balloons. White and gold linens and vases of fresh flowers dressed up round tables where the guests of honor — dressed to the nines — mingled with family members and staff while a pianist played. 

The 36 women honorees wore colorful corsages on their wrists. The men donned boutonnieres. Waiters served scones and berries plus slices of chocolate birthday cake.

In addition to Forrest, speakers included California Assemblyman Matt Dababneh (D-Encino), as well as representatives for Congressman Brad Sherman (D-Sherman Oaks) and Los Angeles Mayor Eric Garcetti, who each presented every centenarian with special certificates. 

“Unbelievable!” said Albert Weber, 102, upon receiving his certificates. “I hope I’m deserving.”

Like many of the centenarians, Weber credited his long life not principally to exercise or diet but something more intangible. 

“It’s not what you eat,” the former entrepreneur said. “It’s what’s eating you. Attitude is very important. Every word that comes out of your mouth should be positive.”

Party celebrates Jewish Home residents who are 100 years young Read More »

Check it out: A new Jewish library for L.A.

The Burton Sperber Jewish Community Library at American Jewish University (AJU) in Bel Air opened its doors Sept. 25, printing out library cards at its circulation desk for the public for the very first time and welcoming dozens of children, parents and grandparents for an open house.

The nearly 2,000-square-foot space on the university’s Familian campus — complete with a charming kids reading corner, plush seating and ample table workspace — shares a structure already occupied by the Bel and Jack M. Ostrow Academic Library. An open-air courtyard separates the libraries, which share a catalog of over 110,000 print volumes, DVDs and audiobooks, from the administration building for the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies. 

Four years ago, a parking lot was there — zero libraries. Now there are two. 

“We are now an official library,” Lisa Silverman, the Sperber Library’s director, said at the open house, grinning, seasonal shofar pendants dangling from her ears. 

Silverman previously was director at the Sinai Temple Blumenthal Library, serving for 19 years. She has been with the Sperber Library for over a year now, preparing for its launch. The opportunity to be a part of this new venture was too enticing to pass up, she said. 

“The unique opportunity to be able to open a Jewish library in the 21st century when the general direction of Jewish libraries hasn’t been positive and many have closed is very exciting to me. It’s the reason I left Sinai,” Silverman said. “It really gives me a chance to make my mark offering modern Jewish programming, leading book clubs and hosting authors. I came here because I want to start something.” 

The Sperber Library aims to fill a void in Los Angeles’ Jewish community. When the Jewish Community Library, located in The Jewish Federation of Greater Los Angeles’ building, closed in 2009, the second largest Jewish city in the United States was left without a major Jewish community library. The Slavin Children’s Library, located in the same building, suffered the same fate in 2013, making way for the expansion of the Zimmer Children’s Museum.

Several thousand books from the old Jewish Community Library are now in the Ostrow Library. Most of the Slavin Children’s Library collection now resides in the children’s section of the Sperber Library, making up about 80 percent of its children’s books, Silverman said.

Prior to Sept. 25, members of the public not enrolled at AJU could check out works at the Ostrow Library. Despite the fact that it was an academic library, Silverman estimates that there were nearly 1,500 non-enrolled community members in the system, cementing her view that there is a demand for a Jewish community library with modern Jewish works. 

“Now those people will be switching loyalties and coming to my side,” she said. “The numbers showed that people wanted to use the library, but they couldn’t always find the newer, more popular stuff. [The Ostrow Library] also didn’t have a children’s collection.”

Now the Sperber Library — funded by a gift from Charlene Sperber, widow of Burton Sperber, who founded ValleyCrest Landscape Cos., the Calabasas-based landscape services company behind projects such as the gardens at the Getty Center and the rooftop community garden at Walt Disney Concert Hall — has an extensive children’s collection. Silverman will also attempt to maintain a collection of Jewish-themed or penned volumes with works published no earlier than 2000. Exceptions will include classics by the likes of literary heavyweights such as Philip Roth or Isaac Bashevis Singer. 

Most of the contemporary adult books in the Sperber Library are from the Sinai Temple Blumenthal Library, which two years ago shifted its focus to serving the temple’s day school and reduced its adult collection. Silverman, who was still at Sinai during that restructuring, helped facilitate the transferring and purchasing of many books from Sinai to AJU. 

Varied programming in the space will be the driving force behind Silverman’s attempt to shape the library into a cultural and social hub. Film screenings, lectures, book clubs, game room days, children’s book readings, Jewish origami workshops and readings with local authors highlight event programming already scheduled. 

The recent open house featured free entertainment that included live music, magicians, arts and crafts, BARK (Beach Animals Reading with Kids) therapy dogs and a documentary film screening.  

Robert Wexler, president of AJU, who was at the event, said he is convinced that the new library’s location, straddling the divide between Los Angeles’ Westside and Valley Jewish communities, makes it a convenient destination for two of the city’s most Jewish neighborhoods. He’s looking forward to witnessing the library’s impending impact on those surrounding areas.

“The mission of the institution is to engage Jewish life at all different phases of life. The Sperber Library helps us fulfill our commitment to serving the overall Jewish community and provide Jewish programming and learning,” Wexler said. 

Educational programming like “Grandparents Circle,” an ongoing discussion forum that the new library will host for grandparents to speak on raising their grandchildren with Jewish values, already has attracted the notice of open house attendees like Barbara Sampson, 80, a member of nearby Stephen Wise Temple. 

“My granddaughter has a Jewish father and a Catholic mother. I want to make sure as her grandmother I can do whatever I can to expose her to all I know about Judaism,” she said. “Everything I know, like traditions and values, I want her to know. I think this new library, with the children’s programming and all, will be great for helping me connect more with my granddaughter on Jewish values.” 

Rabbi Gary Oren, AJU vice president and dean of the Whizin Center for Continuing Education, also feels that a built-in advantage the new library has is its affiliation with a university as opposed to a synagogue. 

“A university setting is familiar to most Jews as a place to come in, explore and work. The barrier a synagogue might put up for some people is definitely not up here,” Oren said. 

Since it began to take shape over the summer, Oren has also witnessed the new library’s benefits to students and staff alike at AJU.  

“There are exciting opportunities for crossover between community, faculty and students there,” Oren said. “We had a screening of a Holocaust documentary in the space and were able to bring in a graduate student to lecture to the public after the screening, which was certainly an exciting opportunity for the student. Also, I’ve seen staff take lunch breaks there to just sit comfortably and read. It’s just a nice place to be in.” 

Though Oren acknowledged that difficulties might lie ahead to maintain the public’s interest, he affirmed his belief that the Sperber Library is here to stay. 

“We know the challenges we face, competing with the internet and how accessible information is today. However, we’re committed to having the space open and available to the public. We will keep it up to date. We feel that it’s necessary and provides a service to the community and we’ll make sure that happens,” he said. “Books and Jews go together.”

Check it out: A new Jewish library for L.A. Read More »

Event remembers often-overlooked early Christian Zionist

William Blackstone died more than 80 years ago, but the Sept. 28 passing of Shimon Peres — the last of Israel’s founding fathers — lent a fresh note of mourning to an event later that same day at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale.

“Standing up and taking action in the face of injustice or a wrong in the world — that’s what Shimon Peres and William Blackstone were all about,” said Sam Grundwerg, Israel’s consul general in Los Angeles, speaking between American and Israeli flags set at the top of the park, with the San Fernando Valley unfurling behind him.

Peres and Blackstone lived in different eras and on different continents, yet both played key parts in the Zionist project. And while Peres’ contribution was well known to most in the audience at the local event, Blackstone’s part has been somewhat obscured by the years.

The program marking the 175th anniversary of Blackstone’s birth was organized by Paul Rood, an adjunct history professor at Biola University, an evangelical Christian university in La Mirada, southeast of downtown. It aimed to highlight the accomplishments of a man credited with planting the early seeds of Zionism in America’s Christian community.

“The bonds and friendships he created blossomed into something far greater than he could have imagined,” Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein, interfaith affairs director at the Simon Wiesenthal Center, said at the event. “And the very diversity of the crowd in which you sit demonstrates how it continues unabated.”

William Blackstone, born in 1841, underwent two epiphanies that defined his life and work. 

In 1878, having built a successful career in insurance and real estate in Illinois, he was decided to give up his profession to spend the rest of his life as a Bible teacher. The book he wrote after this first leap of faith, an exploration of biblical prophecy called “Jesus Is Coming,” would sell 3 million copies in 47 languages.

Ten years later, during a trip to Europe and the Middle East, he witnessed the poverty and deprivation of Jews forced out of their homes in Russia. After visiting Jewish agricultural settlements in Palestine, he became committed to the twin causes of humanitarian aid for Europe’s Jews and Jewish settlement in Palestine.

Returning home in 1890, he convened a group of rabbis, ministers and academics in Chicago for a “Conference on the Past, Present and Future of Israel.”

The following year, five years before Theodor Herzl published “The Jewish State,” Blackstone collected more than 400 signatures for a petition in favor of a national Jewish homeland, including names like John D. Rockefeller, future President William McKinley and Supreme Court Chief Justice Melville Fuller. He would present the document to President Benjamin Harrison and then again to President Woodrow Wilson in 1916, at the urging of Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis.

His activism led Brandeis to write that year in the Chicago Jewish Sentinel, “Blackstone is Zionism’s greatest ally outside of its own ranks.”

The 1916 petition and its influence on Wilson are credited with spurring the Balfour Declaration, which stated the British government’s intent to establish a Jewish homeland in Palestine, and helped foment Israeli statehood. 

At the Glendale event, the Rev. Greg Denham of Cavalry Chapel South Bay explained that Blackstone’s Zionism was rooted in an understanding of biblical prophecy.

“He understood that everything is moving to Jerusalem,” Denham said, “to a kingdom that will never break down, where love and justice and truth and shalom will rule.”

Though today Evangelical Zionism is a powerful force in Christianity, Rood, a business executive turned history scholar, said, “Blackstone’s opinions ran counter to the mainstream views of Christianity of his time.”

“Blackstone saw the Christian church as proud, carnal, weak, unaware that it was dying from within,” he said.

Eschewing the sedentary life of a minister, Blackstone instead chose to become a traveling Bible teacher, gaining a following in Southern California and beyond. During his career as an evangelist, Rood said, Blackstone distributed tens of millions of Bibles in Japan and China. 

He also served as a trustee of Biola University (originally Bible University of Los Angeles) from 1914 to 1930. Last year, the university named a dormitory after him.

“If he could meet the students in the residence hall named in his memory, I believe that he would be proud of them,” Biola’s president, Barry Corey, told the audience on Sept. 28.

After his death in 1935, Blackstone was put to rest in the Glendale cemetery.

Following the recent ceremony at the top of the memorial park outside the cemetery’s museum, the cars of attendees formed an impromptu memorial procession down the long, winding driveway to Blackstone’s grave. There, Grundwerg presented Blackstone’s great-grandchildren a wreath, which he laid on the preacher’s headstone.

Margaret Blackstone Harrell, Blackstone’s great-granddaughter, remembered him as a man of great humility who happened to have a wonderful singing voice and gentle attitude toward his grandchildren, such as her father.

“Privately, he was a wonderfully loving man,” she told the Journal. “He wasn’t always traveling around the world.”

Speaking graveside, she recounted how Blackstone used to proudly show his grandchildren an autograph book from his time as a chaplain for the Union Army during the Civil War. Beneath all the flourishing signatures of captains and sergeants, in small, unadorned script, were the words “A. Lincoln.”

The lesson, Blackstone would tell his grandchildren, was that “it’s what you do and who you are, not what you say about yourself.”

Blackstone understood his own accomplishments not as a cause to boast. Instead, Harrell said, “God was allowing it to happen, just through him.”

Event remembers often-overlooked early Christian Zionist Read More »

Producer pushes through difficult ‘Birth’ of slave-uprising film

When Jason Michael Berman signed on as a producer of “The Birth of a Nation,” Nate Parker’s highly anticipated film, he knew the drama would be a tough sell to prospective financiers. The movie is based on the true story of Nat Turner, an enslaved preacher who, after witnessing atrocities against fellow Blacks, led a doomed slave uprising in 1831 that resulted in the deaths of some 60 slave-owning white families in Parker’s home county of Southampton, Va.

Parker, the movie’s director, co-writer and star, has said fellow filmmakers told him the film would never get made. 

“It had every challenge against it,” Berman, 34, said during a recent interview in Westwood. “It’s a period piece with a first-time director. And then there’s the violence. There was concern about [depicting] the killing of women and children — as well as about the title of the film.”

 The title is the same as that of D.W. Griffith’s notorious 1915 movie, which glorified the Ku Klux Klan. When Berman watched the earlier drama years ago, he was so repulsed that he couldn’t finish it. “I thought that Nate’s idea for the title was brilliant,” Berman said. “It was reclaiming the name of one of the most racist films ever made — as a means to confront bigotry and injustice in this country today.”

Parker’s film takes on even more significance given the recent focus on police shootings of Black men around the country, as well as the call for more diversity in Hollywood.

Berman was determined to join Parker’s team when one of his former producing partners sent him the script in June of 2014. “I read it twice and then went out and did all my own research on Nat Turner,” he recalled. “I wanted to help get the film made, even though I knew it would be a Herculean task.”

Berman was even more enthusiastic when he attended a lunch meeting with Parker not long thereafter. “I was struck by his passion about the subject and about race issues in America,” he recalled. “I was blown away by him. I knew we had to have a director who could speak eloquently about the film, and there was no doubt in my mind that anyone who would take a meeting with him would have a high likelihood of investing [in the project].”

Berman was drawn to Parker’s movie for more personal reasons, as well. Having grown up in a Conservative Jewish home in suburban Baltimore, he was well aware of the Jewish history of oppression and of the slaves’ struggle. “I believe Nat Turner was a good-hearted person who was fighting for what he believed in,” Berman added.

The producer also has a fondness for coming-of-age stories, and in his eyes Parker’s character traverses that kind of journey. “His eyes are opened when he witnesses the horrific treatment and torture of fellow slaves,” Berman said. “But he grew from that, became his own man, and that, ultimately, led to his rebellion.”

Raising funds for the film took on an urgent dimension because Parker had declared he would put his acting career on hold until he could make the movie. “That drove us,” Berman said of himself and his fellow producers. “We were affiliated with a project where the leader had basically stopped working for two years and had almost nothing in his bank account. He was willing to do whatever he needed to get this movie made. And that was unbelievably inspiring for all of us.”

Berman and his producing partners eventually raised the film’s nearly $10 million budget by cobbling together funds from more than a dozen financiers. Their efforts were rewarded when “The Birth of a Nation” received a sustained standing ovation upon its premiere at the 2016 Sundance Film Festival, where it also won the Grand Jury Prize for dramatic features. The movie sold to Fox Searchlight for a record-breaking $17.5 million and has received lots of Oscar buzz.

He found some of the filming difficult to witness — especially the scene in which Parker first sees his bludgeoned wife in the aftermath of her brutal rape by white slave hunters. Berman also recalls how emotionally draining it was for the actors portraying the film’s white tormentors. “But everyone felt the sense that we were creating something that was going to be special,” he said.

A pall over the project occurred, however, when news reports emerged of charges of rape filed against Parker when he was a student at Penn State in 1999. Parker and his college roommate, Jean Celestin — who is the film’s co-writer — were accused of the crime by an 18-year-old female student. Parker was acquitted two years later, but Celestin was convicted of sexual assault and sentenced to six months in prison, according to Variety. 

“Celestin appealed the verdict and was granted a new trial in 2005, but the case never made it back to court after the victim decided not to testify again,” Variety reported. The woman went on to commit suicide in 2012 at age 30. 

Articles on the subject have continued, prompting calls for a boycott of the film — to the dismay of Berman and his colleagues. “Nate was acquitted, and in this country you are innocent until proven guilty,” Berman said. “But this whole thing has been retried again in front of a worldwide audience, and it’s been very tough for us.

He added, “There are going to be people out there who have heard about this who may decide not to go see the movie. But my hope is that when people hear about the emotional power of this film, they will change their minds.”

Berman grew up in Pikesville, Md., where he battled dyslexia from an early age, which manifested as a difficulty with reading comprehension. “It was painful and frustrating, because I’m an overachiever,” he said. 

From first grade on, Berman attended the Jemicy School in Baltimore, a school for dyslexic children, but he struggled there for a time, as well. “That’s why I fell in love with watching movies — ‘E.T.’ ‘Jurassic Park,’ ‘Mr. Holland’s Opus,’ ” he said. “It was a great form of escapism; you could watch a movie and be transported to another place.”

Berman excelled in high school at the esteemed Quaker Friends School of Baltimore, where he founded the school’s film program and convinced the Avid company to donate an editing machine to the school. “The desire to succeed was burning inside of me,” he said. “To be able to overcome dyslexia, you have to persevere, to be persistent, to keep pushing — and what better skill set to pick up to become an independent producer?”

After graduating from the film program at USC, Berman went on to produce movies such as “The Benefactor,” starring Richard Gere, and “Mediterranea,” about North African refugees in Italy. In 2011, Variety named him one of 10 top producers to watch. Two years ago, he became vice president of Mandalay Pictures, where he is now responsible for developing the company’s slate of films as well as packaging projects.  

Berman hopes that “The Birth of a Nation” will eventually be used as an educational tool. 

“Nate wants [viewers] to come out of the film and be able to start a conversation,” Berman said. “He wants people to become change agents.”

“The Birth of a Nation” opens Oct. 7 in Los Angeles.

Producer pushes through difficult ‘Birth’ of slave-uprising film Read More »

Israeli filmmaker feeling the rush of her ‘Sand Storm’

There are storms in the hearts of women, Israeli filmmaker Elite Zexer tells us in her feature film debut, “Sand Storm.” 

Set in a Bedouin village in southern Israel, the film opens as 18-year-old Layla drives a truck under the watchful eye of her father, Suliman. That Layla has her hands on the wheel and speaks to her father with playful sauciness suggests she has an agency that turns out to be deceptive. 

When they arrive home, preparations are underway for a wedding — Suliman is about to take a younger, second wife — leaving his current wife, Jalila, and therefore his entire family, on the verge of upheaval.  

Polygamy, the film suggests, is hardly a recipe for familial harmony. 

In January, when “Sand Storm” premiered at the Sundance Film Festival, it was roundly praised for its portrayal of dynamic, uneasy women caught between the demands of tradition and the tug of modern aspiration. The film was awarded the festival’s Grand Jury Prize, a game-changing accolade for its upstart filmmakers, but that proved only the beginning for the 35-year-old Zexer. 

Last month, “Sand Storm” took home six Israeli Ophir awards — including best picture and best director — and is the first movie shot entirely in Arabic to become Israel’s submission to the Academy Awards for best foreign language film. 

When I met Zexer via Skype from her Tel Aviv apartment recently, the whirlwind of publicity and acclaim was finally catching up with her.

“I’m walking on clouds,” she said with a smile. “I finished this film, and then a week later I was already at Sundance, so I feel like ever since then I haven’t had time to stop and breathe and digest, because it’s just getting bigger and bigger and bigger.”

The praise is especially meaningful given that this is Zexer’s first feature film, for which she labored nearly a decade to bring to the screen. 

“The whole thing started with my mother,” Zexer said. As a hobby, “she started spending so much time photographing [Bedouin] villagers that if I ever wanted to see my mom, I had to go there.”

Weekend visits to Bedouin villages eventually turned into vacations, and soon Zexer and her family were deeply enmeshed in the Bedouin community. 

“I feel like a lot of Israelis pass by these roads every day and the villages are just off the road, and they don’t stop to go inside,” Zexer said. “So I thought I should show other people what’s going on there; the way they live; that they have no water, no gas, no sewer system. And their houses are cracked because they don’t have any foundation. This is something I don’t talk about out loud [in the film], but it is in every frame.”

Elite Zexer

Part of the reason it took Zexer 10 years to make her first movie is that she was determined to study Bedouin culture before telling a story about it. She also never planned to become a filmmaker. 

“I spent most of my life studying science. Then after the army, I did the world trip like everyone does and then went to study biotechnology engineering,” she said. “But after one semester, I realized I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in a lab, studying genes. For the first time, I stopped and I asked myself, ‘What do you really want to do?’ ” 

In 2008, Zexer submitted a short film she had made to the Sundance festival, which was rejected for the official program but caught the organizers’ attention. She was invited to submit a script to their screenwriting lab — a week before the final deadline — and she knew she wanted to make a movie about Bedouins. 

“I locked myself in my house,” she said of writing that first draft. “I stayed up for a week, I didn’t sleep. By the end of the week, I read what I wrote and I thought, ‘I have no idea how to write a script’ and I can’t jump into making a film about Bedouins without exploring a culture so far away from my own.’ So I said ‘stop’ and I went to film school and got my graduate degree.”

In 2010, when she decided to return to the writing process, Zexer began spending more time visiting with the Bedouins, who by now, four or five years after she first met them, had become her friends. She studied their daily life, talking with men and women about their dreams, fears and views of the world. 

“The Bedouin condition in Israel is very complex,” she said. “They are living on land that is not considered ‘theirs,’ even though they’ve been there since before the country was founded.”

But political stalemate is not the only thing holding back Bedouins. Zexer got a unique glimpse into the culture early on, when her mother began photographing village weddings. One night, Zexer recalled, they attended the wedding of a young woman who had broken loose from housework to attend classes at a university. But when she met a young man she liked there, her parents forbade her from returning to school. Zexer and her mother were present the night of this woman’s wedding, an arranged marriage that crushed her dreams. 

“We could hear the parade of men approaching and the whole village was lit up with fireworks,” Zexer recalled. “It was seconds before she was going to meet her husband for the first time, and she was upset. She turned to me and my mom and said, ‘For my daughter, things are going to be different.’ ”

The weight of that moment provides the framework for “Sand Storm,” which is fittingly bookended by two weddings, neither of which provides much hope or joy for the brides. Instead, it is the drama between these events that conveys a female rebellion is brewing: Layla wants to marry the boy she met at a university, while Jalila burns with disgust and resentment at her husband’s neglect.

Zexer handles these dynamics with deep sensitivity, even though she personally has little in common with her protagonists.

“I’m a secular girl from Tel Aviv,” she said. “I don’t live in a patriarchal world at all. But I think many of the themes are [universal] — the mother-daughter relationship, the first [love] relationship, the husband-wife relationship. Even if the Bedouin rules are patriarchal, the core of the relationship is the same.”

Still, it is unusual and even tricky for an Israeli Jew to make a film about one of Israel’s Arab communities, so to that end, Zexer employed an Arabic-speaking cast and refrained from casting Jews into acting roles. 

“[Having] Jews play Arabs just feels too far away. It didn’t feel right,” she said. “And since I couldn’t use Bedouins in the film, because you can’t shoot Bedouin women, because they’re very traditional, I tried to take the next closest thing.” 

Zexer’s fidelity to truth and authenticity made me wonder if she feels a special responsibility to tell the stories of Israel’s minorities. 

“I don’t go out and seek minorities to tell their stories,” she said, “but I spend my life trying to make friends with everyone I can, no matter where they came from.”

While the women in her film stew in “quiet revolt,” as a New York Times review put it, Zexer herself is on the ascending arc of a burgeoning career. 

“It’s been a hell of a ride,” she said, looking back at a decade steeped in this family-centered story. “It’s changed the way I think about life.”

“Sand Storm” opens Oct. 7 in Los Angeles.

Israeli filmmaker feeling the rush of her ‘Sand Storm’ Read More »

Gaga Lady: An Israeli dancer finds her home in L.A.

Israeli dancer, choreographer and teacher Danielle Agami moved to Los Angeles from Seattle in 2012, and she has never been busier.

“I’m an addict to excitement,” she confessed in a phone interview from Salt Lake City, where she was in residency with Repertory Dance Theatre. In the course of just one week, she and eight dancers created a new 20-minute piece titled “Theatre,” preparing the choreography, costumes, lighting and sets.

The Utah performance came on the heels of a two-week stint that the dance company she founded, Ate9, spent there in July.

“I challenge myself and people around me, because otherwise I feel like something’s missing,” Agami, 31, said.

Ate9 is now in its fourth season. From Oct. 6-8, the group will perform the furniture-inspired “Queen George” at H.D. Buttercup in downtown L.A. The piece was previously performed last year as a duet at downtown’s Think Tank Gallery, though this time it will have new music and a new cast.

“It was quite rigid and measured,” Agami said of the first performance. “This time, we’re going to take it to the other side, and go a little more wild. I think the cast is ready to take charge more, and to experiment with the space and the audience.”

While the material is choreographed, Agami leaves some of the decision-making to the dancers. Giving her dancers the flexibility to determine where they want to be on stage, for example, “creates this emotional drama in space,” she said.

“Queen George” examines people’s secrets and our relationships with one another and with our homes. The dancers share the stage with handmade furniture by Israeli designer Amir Raveh, created using recycled materials found in Tel Aviv. The audience is also encouraged to interact with the furniture, and can purchase the pieces afterward.

“We create a playground for other people to be creative,” Agami said. “Not only the dancers, even how the audience can rethink our habits as people, imagining this piece of furniture in your living room, or these two dancers in your living room.” 

“Queen George” is named after Agami’s dog, George, who travels with her on most of her tours.

“He’s been all over the world. He flies and stays in the best hotels and gets his own seat on the plane, and eats the best food. He’s very much a queen,” she said with a laugh.

Agami is striking in appearance, with close-cropped hair and olive-colored skin. Her dance movements are extremely visceral, ranging from animalistic to machine-like, with a high degree of spontaneity.

Her choreography comes out of an improvised movement language known as Gaga. It was created by Ohad Naharin, the artistic director of the Tel Aviv-based Batsheva Dance Company, one of Israel’s most esteemed dance institutions. Naharin was recovering from a back injury 15 years ago when he created Gaga.

Agami joined Batsheva at age 17, after graduating from the high school of the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance. She had taken the required courses to go to medical school with plans to become a doctor but couldn’t bear to leave the dance world behind.

She danced with Batsheva from 2002 to 2009, and was the company’s rehearsal director for her final two years. She moved to New York and ran Gaga USA, an organization founded to promote the Gaga approach. She continues teaching weekly Gaga lessons at studios around town, including The Sweat Spot in Silver Lake, and views the classes as an integral part of her dance practice.

While Agami has performed in venues and with companies from all over the world, she has been focused on developing an experimental dance community in Los Angeles. Last year, her group performed a collection of seven short dances, collectively titled “Kelev Lavan” (White Dog), at the Los Angeles Music Center’s “Moves After Dark” program. She has also worked with Yuval Sharon’s L.A.-based opera company The Industry on several choreographed projects.

This past month, Ate9 was one of three dance groups that performed as part of the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s “L.A. Dances” at the Hollywood Bowl. The company performed “Me,” about human intimacy and how people desire connection while pushing one another away. It was set to the music of L.A.-based composer Daniel Wohl.

This coming March, Agami will premiere a new piece she is making in collaboration with Wilco drummer Glenn Kotche.

In addition to her many projects, Agami was recently awarded the prestigious 2016 Princess Grace Award, which honors emerging artists in theater, dance and film. As part of the prize, Agami will create a commissioned work for Visceral Dance Chicago. It will be performed at the Harris Theater in Chicago next fall.

Agami still visits Israel every year and keeps in touch with her community there. Her sister just joined the Israeli army this past month. 

The dancers in Ate9 (there are now nine of them, not counting Agami) are all American, though Agami says they’re interested in learning about Israel, Batsheva, Gaga and her unique view of the world. She invites her dancers to gather in her home for Passover and Rosh Hashanah, and several of her dancers were inspired to visit Israel with her.

“After they come back, I always feel like, ‘Oh, they get me,’ ” she said with a laugh.

But moving between the cultures of Israel and the U.S. can be challenging.

“I’m a lot different when I’m here. It’s easy to think about it this way, that in Israel people call me Dani, and here they call me Danielle,” she said. “Sometimes I feel like I’m not the same person. But it will even out, I hope.”

“Queen George” will be performed Oct. 6-8 at H.D. Buttercup, 2118 E. Seventh Place. Ate9 will host a gala on Nov. 10 at the Alexandria, 501 S. Spring St. For more information, visit Gaga Lady: An Israeli dancer finds her home in L.A. Read More »

Meant2Be: I loved her first, then him

As a college freshman in Washington, D.C., I met a 22-year-old recent graduate. Let’s call her Molly. 

It was 2004, and to my 18-year-old idealistic college self, Molly was perfect. She was a smart, sweet, sophisticated, progressive Californian who worked at a nonprofit.  She was exactly what I aspired to be when I grew up (at age 18, a 22-year-old college graduate is a grown-up).

It was more than a “friend-crush.” I had a plan: Molly was going to be family.

“You must meet my brother,” I would tell her every time I ran into her. “He’s your perfect match.” My brother is a progressive L.A. attorney with a deep love of the Jewish community and a lay-leadership resume that would make a Federation board president jealous. I was convinced Molly and he were Meant2Be.

“That’s so sweet,” she would say. “He sounds nice. … But we live 3,000 miles apart.” She was always good at putting me down nicely, not making me feel like the pest that I’m sure I was.

I reveled in the fantasy of having Molly as a sister-in-law. But like most childhood fantasies, this one came crashing down when I heard that Molly had a boyfriend.  

I was heartbroken, but whoever he was, I was certain he was Mr. Perfect — the perfect match for the perfect person. I didn’t know his name or anything about him but I assumed he was just as smart, sweet and sophisticated as Molly — the ideal Jewish boy that all mothers and bubbes dream of for their daughters.

I eventually lost track of Molly; I had heard she had gone off to law school — with Mr. Perfect in tow, I assumed.

In 2010, I took a job at the same organization where Molly had once worked. She might not be my sister-in-law but she could still be my role model.  

While there, I met a loud, flamboyant, Sephardic-Canadian Jew named Sean. Sean was eccentric — he had a Shih Tzu-poodle that never left his side; he wore three-piece suits to work even though the dress code was business-casual; and he described his eating habits as the latte-diet (two whole-milk lattes a day and one large meal after 9 p.m.).  Sean was a character, unlike anyone I had ever met.

As our friendship began to blossom, a mutual friend told me that Sean had dated colleagues in the past, most notably Molly. I quickly realized that based on the timeline, Sean was the Mr. Perfect from so many years before! 

But I was confused; Sean was far from perfect. Molly — at least the Molly I had created in my mind — would date only nice, conventional Jewish boys with nice, conventional personalities and nice, conventional eating habits. Not someone like Sean. 

Nevertheless, the fact that Molly had dated Sean suddenly gave him a Michelin star, and I wanted a reservation.  

A few weeks later, Sean and I began dating. At first, I spent much of the time wondering about Molly: Where did they go on dates? What activities did they like to do? What was Sean’s fatal flaw that drove them apart? (Obviously, it must be a flaw in him; after all, she’s perfect.)

Eventually Molly started drifting from my thoughts. I started dating Sean for Sean, not his ex-girlfriend. Then one afternoon, about two months into our relationship, my brother called from L.A.

“You’re never going to guess who I’m going on a date with tonight. Molly!” he said.

My heart started racing. I didn’t even know Molly lived in Los Angeles! This was it! This was Meant2Be!

 But then an image flashed in my head of a Rosh Hashanah dinner years into the future — my brother and Molly on one side of the table, Sean and I on the other. A pair of exes involved with a pair of siblings. One of these relationships had to end. I knew what I had to do.

“Molly and my brother are going on a date tonight. We need to break up,” I told Sean at dinner later that evening. I explained how this was six years in the making, how they were Meant2Be, how our relationship would make things awkward down the line.

 Sean laughed, rejecting my suggestion. “It’s just a date, Julia. You don’t know what’s going to happen.”

As he laughed and smiled at me, I realized how ridiculous I was being. I didn’t actually know Molly — she had become a character in a play in my head. How could I be certain that she and my brother were Meant2Be? (It turns out they weren’t. They’ve both since found their actual Meant2Bes.)

Meanwhile, sitting across from me was a guy to whom I had just confessed I was crazy. Instead of running for the hills, he held my hand and laughed. His eccentricities matched with my crazy made him my Mr. Perfect. 

A year into my marriage to Sean, I sometimes think of Molly, grateful that my love of her led me to the love of my life. You might say that Molly and I were Meant2Be. 


Julia R. Moss lives in Los Angeles with her husband, Sean Thibault, and their Shih Tzu-poodle Max. She serves as director of community engagement at TRIBE Media Corp.

Meant2Be: I loved her first, then him Read More »