I strongly oppose the 2021 California Ethnic Studies Model Curriculum.
I am particularly alarmed by its attempt to depict inter-ethnic relationships as a irreconcilable struggle between racially-defined “oppressed” and “oppressors” and by the way it associates “whiteness” with “oppression” and “colonialism.”
I am particularly alarmed by its attempt to depict inter-ethnic relationships as a irreconcilable struggle between racially-defined “oppressed” and “oppressors”
I am a “white,” Jewish American, and I believe the history of my people is a model of emancipation from oppression and colonialism, culminating in the State of Israel, which is an inspirational model of an oppressed ethnic minority lifting itself from the margins of history to become a world center of art, science and entrepreneurship — a multi-colored lighthouse of free speech and equality.
I want my grandchildren to take pride in this historical transformation and to share our experience with other minorities — but sharing it as equal partners in one colorful mosaic of ethnic diversity, not as guilt-stricken “whites,” burdened with undeserved privileges.
The idea of mutually-respectful ethnic diversity has been at the heart of California Education for decades, and I know firsthand that it can be operationalized successfully. For the past 15 years, I have seen it practiced in the Daniel Pearl Magnet School, here in Van Nuys California, a top-ranking school named after my late son, Daniel Pearl. I have seen, year after year, how students of diverse backgrounds and heritage walk with a flower in their hand, speak in their parents’ language — Spanish, Hebrew, English, Russian and Arabic — and place the flower in a huge Baguette in the center of the room, a symbol of their unity and common humanity.
I dread to see this spirit of comradeship ruined by the “oppressed” — “oppressor” ideology of the proposed Ethnic Studies Curriculum.
Judea Pearl is a UCLA professor and president of the Daniel Pearl Foundation (www.danielpearl.org), named after his son. He and his wife, Ruth, are editors of “I Am Jewish: Personal Reflections Inspired by the Last Words of Daniel Pearl” (Jewish Light, 2004), winner of the National Jewish Book Award.
I’ve lived within the greater Los Angeles Jewish Los Angeles for over 30 years, and in that time, I’ve seen how some views toward Iranian Jews have changed while others have remained stagnant: We’re too traditional/we’re defying traditions. We’re too Persian/we’re becoming too assimilated. We’re all educated doctors/we all take the “easy” road, attend community college, and go into business with our parents.
However, one of the most consistent, but lesser known views that frames the whole of the Iranian-American Jewish experience is this: we’re either too human or we’re not human enough.
When we’re accused of being too human, we’re too loud, tribal and boisterous. Our over-the-top weddings are obsessively devoted to love and life. Our throw-yourself-on-the-coffin funerals are too obsessively devoted to loss and death. Our trauma from upheaval, persecution and war back in Iran color our experiences too much. We love (and hate) too fiercely.
When we don’t seem to participate enough in the human experience, we’re oppressed, mindless robots, controlled by the inflexibly ancient traditions of our parents and our culture. We don’t love freely, because our community has forbidden it. We forgo career passions, because they were never even an option. We don’t join our Ashkenazi friends at a Friday night movie because our familial overlords demand our presence at the weekly Shabbat dinner table. Our exclusivity has kept us from truly knowing what it is to live in America, with all the freedoms of love and life that it offers.
Recently, as I watched a short film about the fictional struggles of one Iranian-American Jewish family as the backbone of their faith and sacrifice nearly crumbles, I realized that neither characterization of our community is entirely accurate.
The 25-minute film, titled “Over My Dead Body” (2020) was written, directed and produced by Meital Cohen Navarro and had its North American premiere last month at the Atlanta Jewish Film Festival. Next week, the film will have its West Coast premiere at the San Luis Obispo International Film Festival (March 9-14), though viewers may purchase tickets and watch it remotely.
Meital Cohen Navarro (Credit: Anna Vialova)
Cohen Navarro, who was born and raised in Ramat HaSharon, Israel, is second-generation Moroccan and Yemenite. After decades abroad in Africa, including South Africa and the Democratic Republic of Congo, where she served as a journalist for the Israeli newspaper, Ma’ariv, she moved to Los Angeles in 2018 to pursue filmmaking, and began meeting local Iranian Jews.
“Most of the young Persian Jews I met married other Persian Jews,” she said in an interview with the Journal. “In Israel, it’s so different. Mizrahim don’t only marry each other. Neither do Ashkenazim. And no one really cares, at least not anymore.”
But Cohen Navarro immediately understood the important role of both faith and culture in more traditional communities such as those of Iranians, due to her own Yemenite and Moroccan roots. The tension between appeasing a traditional family and venturing into the seemingly dangerous expanse of one’s own desires was so palpable that she decided to bring such tension to life on film.
“Over My Dead Body” chronicles the response of an Iranian Jewish family in Beverly Hills to the news that their daughter, Isfahan (played by Nakta Pahlevan), has decided to marry a Muslim Iranian, Kambiz (played by Ash Dadvand). To say that the family is dismayed is an understatement; at times, it seems they’re anticipating a funeral rather than a wedding.
For most of the film, viewers are naturally inclined to sympathize with Isfahan (especially if they were born or raised in America and consider themselves more progressive). But most Iranian Jewish viewers, even young ones, will immediately understand the family’s painful, albeit seemingly over dramatic response, even if they disagree with it.
Just when we imagine that Cohen Navarro has only depicted Isfahan as a tragic victim of tribalism and yes, even prejudice, against Muslims, the director surprises viewers by offering a much-needed empathetic avenue into the painful background that colors why her family (especially her father) is so adamantly against her decision.
The family’s older children, Ezra and Sarah (played by Afshin Katanchi and Mahsa Shamsa, respectively), also are bewildered by Isfahan’s announcement, but some of the most powerful portrayals of familial pain are captured through exceptional performances by Bahram Vatanparast, who plays Isfahan’s father, Parviz, and Mary Apick, who plays her mother, Rachel. Iranian viewers of a certain generation will recognize Vatanparast and Apick as famed Iranian actors of the 1970s, before the 1979 Islamic Revolution forced them and most other artists to flee the country.
Mahsa Shamsa (left) and Nakta Pahlevan in “Over My Dead Body” (Credit: Emerson Lee)
“The film really highlights an important issue that creates so much distance between people,” Vatanparast told the Journal. “And we have to ask yourselves, ‘Why?’ Why do things have to be like this? Why do there have to be such differences between people? We’re all human.”
Vatanparast, who was born Muslim (but is ardently secular), admitted than when one of his daughters married an American man, “there were many initial cultural barriers.” However, he wasn’t able to identify with the pain of the character whom he played so well.
“As an actor, I have to understand what the director wants, and put my entire being into it,” he said. “My sentiments in the film about religion reflect what Meital [Cohen Navarro] wanted as part of the character. They’re not my own.”
The cast primarily consists of Muslim Iranian actors, with the exception of Apick, who is Christian, and Shamsa, who is Jewish.
After the revolution, Vatanparast no longer was able to act in films, particularly alongside female actresses. “The regime brought in their own people for everything, including writing and censorship,” he reflected. So Vatanparast performed in theatrical plays until those, too, were banned. He came to the United States in 1984. He fears returning to Iran due to his acting career and as well as his secular beliefs.
“I love the Jewish people,” he said. “It was they who helped keep Iranian culture and arts alive. Without Iranian Jews, we couldn’t have kept many of the arts that traditional Islam, for over a thousand years, considered haram (forbidden).”
Pahlevan plays the starring role of a struggling daughter beautifully, in no small part because she related deeply with her character. The actress grew up in Tehran, and while her maternal family are devout Muslims, her paternal family is secular. In Iran, she dated a young Muslim man who was very religious. “His father had served as an ambassador for the Islamic Republic of Iran and was heavily involved with the regime,” she told the Journal. “I wasn’t religious enough, so the young man’s mother forced us to break up.”
At 21, Pahlevan left Iran, after receiving a scholarship to study biomedical engineering at the University of Birmingham, where she also received her masters degree. But she always had a passion for theater and the arts. Pahlevan moved to Los Angeles in 2010 and began taking classes in filmmaking, editing, writing and acting. Her family was less than enthused.
“We had so many fights,” she said. “They were okay if I directed, but not acted. Like many Iranians, even those in America, they thought acting corrupts a woman. ‘Be an engineer and keep your acting as a hobby,’ my mother told me. Even my brother got involved, trying to talk me into my senses, just as the character of the brother gets involved in the film.”
When Pahlevan read for the role of Isfahan, she felt she was reading about herself. “Because of everything in my own life, I really sympathized with that character,” she said. “I can feel her. I understand her. After the audition, I got into my car and cried. ‘They have to give me the role!’ I said to myself. No one can tell the story better than I! It’s my story.”
When Pahlevan read for the role of Isfahan, she felt she was reading about herself.
Pahlevan believes that most Iranians, regardless of faith, will relate to the film. “In Iran, many parents from different cities or tribes often don’t let their kids marry each other,” she said.
The only hardship that Pahlevan faced was connecting with the character of a young woman who had been raised in the United States. “In researching the film, I realized that young Iranian women in America don’t talk about their pain enough with their parents, so they’re extremely shocked when their family doesn’t accept something about them.”
When asked if she was concerned that the film would portray Iranian Jews as close-minded, Cohen Navarro said, “It’s a Jewish conflict, not just an Iranian Jewish conflict. It could easily have been my family, a Moroccan Jewish family,or Yemenites, or any others of Jewish origin. This is a difficult subject, and I hope I shed a little more light on that.”
She continued, “I believe you do see both sides of the story. Life is not not black or white. Jews are like many others around the world who want to be part of their own roots and culture. I totally get it. Jews aren’t the exception, I have learned that “Over My Dead Body” is the story of many people from all over the world.”
In fact, when Cohen Navarro asked viewers from around the world to watch the film and participate in focus groups, the response was nearly universal: “At the end of the screening, almost everyone said, ‘This is my story,’” she said, adding, “A Syrian Sunni said she had the exact same experience trying to marry outside of her faith; a Muslim friend from Pakistan said her family would have frowned upon her marrying someone from a different tribe. By engaging with international audiences, I was reminded of the importance of film as a vehicle of storytelling; of having a community and an individual’s voice and vision heard. No genre can move, depict, persuade, or impress as much as film.”
Pahlevan calls Cohen Navarro a “superwoman who does it all” (including self-funding the film). As most of the film is in Persian (with English subtitles), Cohen Navarro hired a tutor and listened to hundreds of hours of pre-recorded language lessons to learn Persian. There was also a Persian-language translator on set. She hopes to screen the film in Israel this year.
“Over My Dead Body” will undoubtedly invite dialogue about the Iranian Jewish experience amid the backdrop American assimilation. Yes, we are a tribal community because we were forced to live together in the Jewish quarters (or ghettos) of Iran for years, lest they contaminated Muslims with our “nejasat,” or ritual impurity. And yes, we’re traumatized by our former second class status (and sometimes, outright persecution) in a country that’s 99% Shi’a Muslim and, for the past 42 years, has been an official theocracy.
Intermarriage between Jews and Muslims was such a rarity in Iran that we came to the United States and were shocked to our cores if our sons and daughters wanted to marry Ashkenazi Jews. Now that’s an intermarriage, we chuckled. And many of us truly do connect deeply with our Jewish identities — the one identity we carried on our backs after we escaped Iran, never to be officially Iranian (on paper) again, and waiting to be something, anything — American, Canadian, German, etc. What if there are those of us who truly love being Jewish and who believe a non-Jewish partner, even one we love deeply, will never really know us in the way of the soul?
This last question plagued me as I watched Isfahan defend her choice to her family. Yes, she loves Kambiz deeply. But what, if anything, do we know about her feelings about Judaism and her own connection (or lack thereof) to her Jewish identity? Is there any part of her that embraces her Jewishness as her own?
Thankfully, Cohen Navarro shot “Over My Dead Body,” as a proof-of-concept for a television series she has developed, which means viewers will hopefully learn more about Isfahan’s journey as well as her inner struggles.
“It’s my hope that, through Isfahan’s devastation, parents will see the toll taken on their own children, especially the next generation of women,” Cohen Navarro said. “And, with any luck, the younger generation will see their parents’ equally heartbreaking cultural challenges and embrace their fear of losing what has always been their world. Love is difficult, and even more so when you must choose.”
“Over My Dead Body” premieres at the San Luis Obispo International Film Festival March 9-14. Tickets to watch the film remotely may be found here. Meital Cohen Navarro may be found on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.
Tabby Refael is a Los Angeles-based writer, speaker and activist. Follow her on Twitter @RefaelTabby
The UCLA student government passed a resolution on March 3 alleging that the Israeli government is committing “ethnic cleansing” against the Palestinians.
The Journal obtained a copy of the resolution, titled “A Resolution Calling for the UC to Divest from War.” The resolution called for the University of California system to divest from “the war industry” and for “the university to sever itself from companies that engage or aid in the oppression of any people.”
But what Jewish groups and students have taken issue with is that the resolution states that divestment is a legitimate tool to fight against injustice, citing “South African apartheid” and “ethnic cleansing in Palestine by the Israeli government.” The resolution also promotes the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) resolution passed by the UCLA student government in 2014.
“We had no idea this resolution was coming up, and were not alerted by anyone ahead of time,” a student told the Journal. “The language of the resolution was not released ahead of the council meeting, making it impossible for any of the students to speak out on it.”
He added that the resolution apparently passed with a unanimous vote. “My sense is that many of the councilmembers likely didn’t think much about the impact of the resolution. Palestine was listed among many other conflicts, and with a general consensus that ‘war’ is a bad thing, they weren’t going to oppose it, especially at these meetings that can run many hours long.”
Rabbi Aaron Lerner, Executive Director of Hillel at UCLA, wrote in an email to community members that the resolution “follows the familiar pattern of seeking to delegitimize Israel within broader language. The resolution was deliberately hidden from Jewish students, preventing them from engaging in the debate.”
Lerner argued that pro-Israel students have been largely been victorious in the battles against anti-Israel forces on campus since 2015, pointing to how UCLA Chancellor Gene Block as well as the UC Regents have spoken out against the BDS movement.
“In this context, it’s not surprising that the resolution’s proponents hid it from Jewish and pro-Israel student leaders by not releasing the language ahead of time, preventing us from countering their inaccurate and one-sided rhetoric,” Lerner wrote. “The passage of such a resolution is invalid and antidemocratic.”
“The passage of such a resolution is invalid and antidemocratic.”
He concluded: “We will continue to share our love for our ancestral homeland, and even engage in dialogue about its imperfections. We will not, however, accept vitriolic attempts to delegitimize and destroy the nation we yearned for over the past two millennia.”
Judea Pearl, chancellor professor of Computer Science at UCLA, National Academy of Sciences member and Daniel Pearl Foundation president, said in a statement to the Journal that the resolution “raises an interesting question: Is the use of slanderous and defamatory language against a cherished identity symbol for thousands of students on campus compatible with the norms of respectful discourse that UCLA aspires to set on campus?”
Other Jewish groups also condemned the resolution.
“StandWithUs is extremely disappointed by the passage of this deeply misleading resolution promoting BDS at UCLA,” StandWithUs CEO and Co-Founder Roz Rothstein said in a statement to the Journal. “We condemn BDS activists for pushing this vote secretly behind the backs of Jewish and pro-Israel students in order to avoid an open debate about their hateful agenda. We stand with Jewish and pro-Israel students as they push back against this underhanded attempt to marginalize the Jewish students on campus and delegitimize the only Jewish state in the world. We call on UCLA’s administration to strongly condemn and reject these efforts.”
AMCHA Initiative Director Tammi Rossman-Benjamin similarly said in a statement to the Journal, “Consistent with their relentless campaign of anti-Jewish harassment, intimidation and bullying, SJP [Students for Justice in Palestine] and their fellow travelers are, once again, trying to prevent Jewish and pro-Israel students from expressing their identity and views and fully participating in campus life. This is a blatant violation of the Regents Principles Against Intolerance, which explicitly prohibit behavior that interferes with the ability of an individual or group to assemble, speak and share or hear the opinions of others.” Rossman-Benjamin was among those spearheading the campaign to get the UC Regents to adopt the Principles Against Intolerance.
“Chancellor Block must speak out against this shameful behavior and ensure the rights of Jewish pro-Israel students and all students, to freely express their beliefs and identity, free from the threat of harassment, bullying and intimidation. This is a basic right that must be afforded to every student on a university campus.”
Ricardo Vazquez, Director of Media Relations at UCLA, said in a statement to the Journal, “The UC system, including UCLA, has repeatedly expressed opposition to boycotting, sanctioning or divesting from Israeli institutions and remains firmly committed to that position.”
UCLA SJP, one of the groups that co-sponsored the resolution, celebrated its passage in an Instagram post, calling on the university to divest “from Israeli colonization and occupation of Palestine.”
The UCLA student government did not respond to the Journal’s request for comment.
UPDATE: On March 5, the UCLA student government sent an apology to Hillel at UCLA over the resolution being “inadvertently hidden from the Jewish community and the public at large” and that the student government will make sure it doesn’t happen again.
“Going forward we hope to work with student leaders in Hillel and in all spaces on campus to ensure that USAC [UCLA Students Association Council] is a safe space for debate and dialogue on important issues on our agendas,” they wrote.
After acknowledging the first anniversary of COVID hitting America, the Bagels are not getting ready for the Holiday of Matzah and are reviewing the Golden Globes. From virtual awards shows to what’s newy and Jewy, Esther and Erin explore pop culture through their particular Jewish lens: highlighting the career of Shira Haas, sending good wishes to Gal Gadot & looking forward to the return of “Shtisel” in late March.
In 1976, Rabbi Stephen Einstein started teaching an Intro to Judaism class in Orange County. Although some of the students were people who were born Jewish and wanted to learn more, there were a large number of prospective converts taking it as well. At the time, conversion was a delicate topic, and many were wary about welcoming converts. However, Einstein persisted and taught the class to thousands of students and mentored hundreds of converts for the next 41 years.
Now, the Sandra Caplan Community Beit Din, where Einstein serves as a member, is celebrating him at their 2021 gala, taking place over Zoom on Sunday, March 7. “It’s a really nice honor,” Einstein said in a phone interview with the Journal. “A lot of people are going to be part of this. I’m very much looking forward to it.”
The event is also going to feature the rabbi singing the Shema with a chorus of converts, renowned liturgist and poet Alden Solovy reading his rendition of the prayer, composer and cantor Natalie Young and Professor and Rabbi David Ellenson, chancellor emeritus of Hebrew Union College.
Arlene Chernow, outreach specialist at the Union for Reform Judaism and a longtime colleague of Einstein, said that the rabbi “deserves to be honored for the number of individuals he’s welcomed to the Jewish people. He should be honored for the courage to be articulate about welcoming new individuals 41 years ago. He really had an influence on other rabbis and on the Reform Jewish community as well.”
One of the individuals whose life Einstein changed is Michelle Matusoff, who took his class in 2011. She wanted to convert to Judaism so that her kids would have a cohesive religious upbringing, and she hoped Einstein would be her sponsoring rabbi.
At first, she wasn’t thrilled that the class took place on Monday nights 30 minutes from her house, but she grew to love it so much that it became the highlight of her week. “The class would always go by so quickly,” Matusoff said. “Rabbi Einstein is very informative and engaging to listen to. He had a wise answer to everything, and he’s a wonderful storyteller and speaker. He was the perfect person to teach a class like that.”
When Chernow observed Einstein teaching his class, she noticed his dedication to his students, no matter where they were coming from. “I was always touched by the way he valued every question and every contribution,” she said. “Sometimes there were as many as 60 people in the class, and yet the way he responded to each question and person made them feel valued. That was particularly moving to people who came from other traditions where asking questions was not positive. He responded to people with so much love and humanity.”
“The way he responded to each question and person made them feel valued.”
Einstein, who was a founding rabbi of Congregation B’nai Tzedek in Fountain Valley, past president of the Pacific Association of Reform Rabbis and co-chair of Reform Judaism’s Commission on Outreach, Membership and Sacred Community, officially retired in 2012, but said he’s still working here and there.
“My retirement has been in shifts so to speak. I’ve continued certain things and took new things on, so I’m in stage seven or eight of retiring.” He said he dedicated much of his work to helping converts because it’s a mitzvah that goes back to Biblical times, when Avraham and Sarah welcomed strangers into their tent and taught them monotheism.
“This is as old as Judaism itself,” he said. “There are periods where we’ve been more comfortable to be open [to converts] and other periods, particularly [in] times of persecution, where we’ve hunkered down and kept to ourselves. But I thought it was important to keep this work going.”
Years ago, when the class first began, Einstein said that conversions were done privately, but now, in the Reform community, it’s common for converts to have a welcome Shabbat at synagogue where they light candles, are called up to the Torah for blessings and carry around the scrolls.
“The person who converted would go around the congregation with the Torah, and people would reach out and hug them. It was a very warm and welcoming moment for everybody.”
As one of the first members of the Sandra Caplan Community Beit Din, Einstein said he believes in its philosophy because it ties into the important notion of klal Yisrael. “When someone converts, that person isn’t joining one synagogue or movement,” he said. “They become part of the entire Jewish people.”
Kylie Ora Lobell is a writer for the Jewish Journal of Los Angeles, The Forward, Tablet Magazine, Aish, and Chabad.org and the author of the first children’s book for the children of Jewish converts, “Jewish Just Like You.”
Jewish adult engagement organization Moishe House announced on March 5 that it will acquire the Base Movement rabbinic network from Hillel International. This move will allow Moishe House to provide more Jewish education resources to its residents and create experiences within their communities.
Since 2015, Base was incubated as an innovation project at Hillel International, growing to engage more than 6,000 young Jewish adults per year and fostering data regarding Base’s home-based engagement model. Base aimed to build community in spiritual spaces facilitated by rabbis. Moishe House, which engages more than 70,000 young Jewish adults in more than 12,000 programs across the world each year, will absorb six Base locations.
While Base will function within Moishe House, it will continue to be led by its co-founder Faith Leener with a wider vision to expand the model.
“We feel confident that Moishe House’s extensive reach and operational expertise provides Base the best platform to continue to grow, innovate, and serve our communities with the love, care, and intention that we have provided these past six years to over 30,000 young adults,” Leener said.“I’m proud to continue growing this initiative from a six-year-old startup to a movement that is more fundamentally embedded in the fabric of how young adults experience Jewish community across the country and how they experience Jewish leadership.”
While both Base and Moishe House are rooted in home-based programming, Base Movement’s rabbinic-led education and engagement model will enable Moishe House to continue to grow and integrate more direct-learning and rabbinic mentorship opportunities for young adults. Base closely aligns with Moishe House and is a strategic next-step in engaging with its global community. Moishe House CEO and founder David Cygielman said the integration of their outreach and communities will further increase their ability to serve as fulfilling resources for young Jews.
Base Movement’s rabbinic-led education and engagement model will enable Moishe House to continue to grow and integrate more direct-learning and rabbinic mentorship opportunities for young adults.
“Moishe House is a natural home for Base,” Cygielman said. “We are eager to grow this exciting model and look forward to finding new partners to seed new Bases. We are deeply grateful for our partners at Hillel International, along with all the local partners and generous donors who have supported this acquisition.”
According to an official statement given to the Journal, Moishe House will acquire six of Base’s locations that are unaffiliated with universities in New York, Chicago, Boston and Miami, with plans to incorporate Base into more Moishe House communities across the United States. The professional staff responsible for overseeing the broader Base Movement and supporting the teams will now be Moishe House employees. Base Ithaca (Cornell) and Base Berlin will remain part of Hillel and rebrand over the next two years. During a transition period, the Bases will continue to receive support from the Base movement, including cohort building, training and continuing education.
“We are proud of the role Hillel has played in the first chapter of Base’s story and excited to watch it continue to grow as part of Moishe House,” Hillel International President and CEO Adam Lehman said. “Hillel remains committed to developing innovative new models and platforms for Jewish engagement, through projects such as Base, and to finding the best paths for maximizing the impact of these initiatives for the overall Jewish community.”
(The Media Line) Israel’s Environmental Protection Minister Gila Gamliel has pointed a finger at Iran, blaming the Islamic Republic for last month’s oil spill that polluted Israel’s shoreline, causing an ecological disaster. The ministry on Thursday released new information tracking the course of the alleged culprit. But defense officials weren’t part of the investigation, and some have disputed the claim.
On Wednesday, Gamliel blamed Iran for the crude oil spill that brought large amounts of tar to Israel’s Mediterranean coast. A ministry statement said that the culprit had been identified as the crude oil tanker Emerald, “a Libyan-owned ship that was carrying cargo from Iran to Syria.” The statement quoted the minister as saying that “Iran is waging terrorism by harming the environment.”
A second statement by the Ministry of Environmental Protection on Thursday supplied more details tying the ship to Iran. Information provided by TankerTrackers.com documented the course of the ship to the eastern Mediterranean and to Israel’s economic water zone from Iran’s Kharg Island, in the Persian Gulf. “Authorities believe Iranian crude oil was loaded onto it at that time. That oil eventually leaked, and ultimately reached Israel’s shoreline, resulting in one of the worst environmental disasters in Israel’s history,” said the statement.
The oil spill disaster, which has been classified as one of the worst ecological disasters Israel has ever known, started on February 17 when large amounts of tar washed up on Israel’s beaches. The tar reached 160 km of Israel’s 195 km coastline, and severely polluted the beaches, harming the resident wildlife. At the same time as great efforts are being made to clean the damaged areas, Israel has been working to identify the ship behind the oil spill.
The Thursday statement quoted Gamliel as saying: “The connection to Iran is a direct one, it is not an unknown one. There is room here for an urgent discussion of all government bodies, including security agencies, aimed at a broader understanding of the threats to Israel’s economic waters, which are not only environmental.”
However, Israeli defense officials were surprised by the minister’s claims, saying that the country’s defense apparatus wasn’t involved in the investigation. The Israeli business daily Globes reported that some defense officials expressed their doubts about an intentional Iranian action, saying it is more likely that the spill was the result of oil smuggling gone awry.
The IDF Spokesperson’s Unit told The Media Line that Israel’s military has no comment on the matter, and referred The Media Line to the spokesperson for the Environmental Protection Minister. The Media Line contacted Gamliel’s spokesperson for her response, but no comment was received in time for publication.
Israel will certainly, in my opinion, have to raise the bar of its response to such a threat and an attack
Omer Dostri, a strategy and security expert at the Jerusalem Institute for Strategy and Security, said it is not clear yet if Iran is behind the spill, but it would not be a surprise if it is. “We don’t know. That is what Gamliel is claiming, and she is basically the only one,” he told The Media Line. At the same time, he said, “we know that there are some – for example in the IDF and other Israeli security bodies – that claim that there is not what is called ‘forensic evidence’ in this area.” But, he added, “assuming Gamliel’s claim is correct, and the Iranians are indeed responsible for this event, it shouldn’t really surprise us.”
Dostri said that, were the oil spill indeed identified as an Iranian action, it would be in keeping with Iran’s strategy in its conflict with Israel. Iranian strategy, he said, is “based on indirect, obscure, covert fighting that is intended, among other things, to avoid Israeli retaliation or to limit it.” The expert also said that if Gamliel’s claim is discovered to be true, this action would connect to another recent attack that has been attributed to Iran by Israel.
A week ago, an Israeli-owned ship named MV Helios Ray experienced a mysterious explosion while sailing in the Gulf of Oman. The explosion forced the ship to return to a United Arab Emirates port for repairs. The Iranian government dismissed the Israeli accusations – voiced Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu and high-ranking security officials.
Dostri said that the attack on the ship, which he believes is Iranian, is “in fact an attack on Israeli freedom of navigation, which is a very grave thing, and a true escalation” in Iranian attacks. Freedom of navigation, a standard of customary international law, stipulates that a state must not interfere with a ship flying the flag of a sovereign state. Dostri believes that “Israel will certainly, in my opinion, have to raise the bar of its response to such a threat and an attack,” and this is doubly true if Iran is behind the oil spill.
My wife, Shira, always shops for the smallest packages of food to conserve space in our three-shelf pantry. When I find a ten-ounce box of Cheerios, I cringe and dream of buying supersize at Costco. I prefer a plethora of cereal options to mix and match my breakfast. Shira retaliates by purchasing mini jars of peanut butter. My overstuffed closet is another point of contention. I have more than Shira does, and she calls me a packrat. I like having choices, and as long as they still fit, I see no reason to dispose of my favorites. So, too, with my CD collection, the gear in my music studio and my extensive library.
Am I too attached to material things? Yes! But I prefer to give my obsession another name: Shefa.
Shefa (abundance) is one of my favorite Hebrew words. On the basic level, it means having plenty of money in the bank account. Shefa is a full tank of gas, robust health, a beloved job, satisfying hobbies and ample time for family and friends. Having an array of cereal and T-shirt choices serves as my subconscious method of living in a world of shefa for at least some of my day. We add shefa to our lives by celebrating Shabbat and holidays like royalty — entertaining guests in grand style and holding court as the monarchs of Livonia Avenue.
I resonate with living large. I love my king-size bed. I love skiing big mountains, eating overstuffed burritos and sitting on an enormous Relax-the-Back chair. I love epic movies on big screens and multi-day music festivals. Big things give me big joy. I recognize that conspicuous consumption flies in the face of political norms. This is a time when conscientious Americans reduce carbon footprints by bringing canvas bags to the supermarket, driving hybrids and recycling. We must not abandon these astute practices — I am simply suggesting we distinguish between minimizing our consumption and maximizing our joy.
Some believe the drive to accumulate material wealth is at odds with Judaism or liberal values. In fact, all of our patriarchs and matriarchs were loaded! Their illustrious sagas are enshrined in our national consciousness to demonstrate that financial abundance isn’t just tolerated; it’s encouraged. Capitalism is great as long as we use our capital to heal the world and strive to be a mensch. Great wealth brings great responsibility.
The popular new age film “The Secret” echoes a truth that Jews have espoused for time immemorial: words have a tremendous impact. We bring abundance into being by harnessing this source of power. The incantation “abracadabra” comes from the Aramaic “I will create as I have spoken.” Prayer is simply speaking our deepest desires into being. We are God’s partners in creating the world we want. A world of peace and harmony, a world of unfettered joy, loving relationships and monetary success. Ask for your life to be filled with shefa.
Giving tzedakah (charity) is the ultimate shefa “magnet.” If we respond to those in need with our hard-earned cash, clearly God can trust us with abundance. Tzedakah is the quintessential key to the gate of righteousness. But I differentiate between macro and micro tzedakah. The macro-level is supporting the Jewish Federation, Israel, disaster relief and the homeless. The micro-level involves tzedakah in-person, always having cash on hand to dispense on the streets, in the minyan or to aging veterans at freeway exits. Holy generosity demonstrates we are aware of God’s presence, thankful for our gifts and excited to share the bounty.
In order to attract shefa, we must fashion ourselves into vessels primed for ever-increasing blessing. A Bat Mitzvah girl praying for a red Ferrari likely is not ready for such a vehicle. The answer to her prayer, regardless of how earnestly she asks, is going to be no. Over our lifetimes, God gives us challenges to determine how much shefa we can sustain. These tests build us into people who can deal with ever-greater gifts.
In order to attract shefa, we must fashion ourselves into vessels primed for ever-increasing blessing.
Building vessels for shefa is not only a spiritual call to action; it’s also a physical one. Maimonides, the epic scholar and physician, insists we are fully responsible for maintaining our health so we can carry out God’s will. Once, on a chairlift at Vail, an orthopedic surgeon next to me asked what I do to stay in shape. I mentioned surfing, biking and skiing. He responded, “No, that’s what you do to your body! What do you do for your body?” The right answer would have been yoga, walking, stretching and cardio machines. I took his advice to heart. I’ve been a yogi for over a decade and find it crucial for withstanding life’s shocks and spills. Staying in shape enables the flow of shefa and, by extension, benefits our family, our community and the Jewish People.
Kabbalah describes a higher meaning of shefa: Our God is essentially good and created the universe to extend goodness in every direction. Shefa refers to the flow of God’s beneficence in all forms. Imagine a brilliant beam emanating from a spotlight toward a performer on stage. This is like the divine light highlighting all creation. But in troubled times, we tend to self-limit the flow of God’s light in our lives: We allow economic woes to diminish our outlook, feel beaten down at work and have less time to do the things we enjoy. Living in fear takes us out of the flow of shefa.
How can we pursue our dreams without trepidation, attracting blessings in our income, health and happiness? Maximizing shefa means taking calculated risks, bravely committing to a particular outcome. Courage doesn’t mean the absence of fear — it means “I’m afraid, but I’m committed.”
A few months after the cereal argument, Shira recognized that having variety is an important ingredient in my quest forshefa. Now she not only provides several kinds of cereal lovingly, but she also actively shops for brands I like. Our relationship with our Creator is much like a marriage: success is based on expressing heartfelt gratitude, being sensitive to what makes the relationship flow and rectifying what doesn’t.
God is continuously showering us with shefa. Only we can choose whether to acknowledge it. Shefa surrounds us in the form of every breath we take, our miraculous bodily functions, intelligence, loving relationships, self-awareness and inner peace. And, of course, in plenty of cereal in the cupboard, landing a great gig or the Holy Grail — finding a perfect parking spot. Living a life of shefa is the Jewish “secret,” one we can share with all of humanity.
Sam Glaser is a performer, composer, producer and author in Los Angeles. He has released 25 albums of his music, he produces music for various media in his Glaser Musicworks recording studio and his book The Joy of Judaism is an Amazon bestseller. Visit him online at www.samglaser.com. Join Sam for a weekly uplifting hour of study every Wednesday night (7:30 pm PST, Zoom Meeting ID: 71646005392) for learners of all ages and levels of knowledge.
It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Our gym has been closed for almost a year, and my husband Tom and I missed our days of being committed bike riders. Maybe the ads convinced me to do it: I kept seeing buff young people in terrific exercise outfits hauling ass in front of a screen while teachers prodded and nudged.
So we bought a Peloton. And then it went downhill from there.
Our first mistake: We didn’t go to a Peloton store to try it out; we just bought it on the phone. We both had to buy special shoes to clamp onto the pedals. I knew it was going to be high-tech and was nervous well before it arrived. Everybody we spoke to loved Peloton and relished the screen attachments — yoga sessions, online biking trips through New Zealand and other gorgeous spots, spinning classes and more. But I noticed that everybody we spoke to was a few decades younger than us.
When the nice man delivered the bike and set it up in the den, six weeks after we bought it — oh yes, they were back ordered; sales were booming — Tom was thrilled; I was anxious. We had to hook the special cleated shoes ($150 a pair) onto the pedals each time we got on the bike, which seemed like an impossible feat. The man helped me mount the bike by jerking my right leg around, and my funky right knee twisted in pain. I asked the man if we couldn’t just wear regular sneakers and avoid that improbable torture, but he was adamant and looked insulted. No, he insisted, the whole point was to be hooked onto this creature as if you are one being.
OK, I surrendered. I hated it already, and I hadn’t even pedaled yet. We had to use a mechanical lever to raise the seat (one height for Tom, another for me), move the seat forward and back (we both had different requirements) and change the handlebar height. Way too complex. After the delivery man left, frustrated with me for my ineptness and nervousness, I knew right then and there that I would never understand the Peloton beast and threatened Tom that I would never ride it. On the other hand, he was excited (he is called “Techno Tom” by friends, which explains his relationship with the Peloton up to this point). He made me promise to try it again and overcome my techno terror. I promised, although I really knew what the outcome would be.
I called our dear friends, Jon and Helene, and begged them to “talk to Tom, tell him we’re too old, tell him I’ll have to have a knee replacement, remind him we’re Jewish and klutzy.” They laughed, and Jon said, “I’ll tell him he’ll have to choose between you and the Peloton and see what he says.”
The next day, I woke up dreading my next session with the Peloton, but I had to go through with it for Tom. He’d called the Peloton support number and told them we were struggling with clamping our shoes onto the pedals without twisting our backs and knees. The helper was compassionate, according to Tom, and said we should buy something ominously called “cages,” which would hook permanently to the pedals and make it simple to secure our shoes. They would FedEx them to us, so we’d be able to use them the next day. Reprieve! I wouldn’t have to ride the monster for another day. But when the cages arrived, Techno Tom couldn’t figure out how to put them on the pedals, so we had to get a handy neighbor to do it.
Tom also ordered a gel seat from Amazon to overcome the extreme discomfort of the hard, tiny seat. It was scheduled to arrive in a few days. Another device to buy, another day of delay! Would the Peloton ever be complete?
Another device to buy, another day of delay! Would the Peloton ever be complete?
We decided we always needed to be in the room with each other when we rode the bike in case some emergency arose. So, the next day after the new pedals were installed (but before the new seat arrived), we went upstairs to the den. We each committed to ride the Peloton for 30 minutes. I went first, and Tom helped me secure the new pedals — not as simple as was promised, and I couldn’t do it myself. I asked him, “Does this mean you’ll always have to be with me when I get on the bike? That doesn’t make sense.” We didn’t have an answer.
We got the adjustments completed after many tries, and I touched the screen in order to bike through a Swiss town. It was yet another disappointment. I remembered actually biking through the Alps years ago — the beauty of the views, villages and water. The Peloton journey was through a grim, gray city, not a tree or lake in sight. I rode for about ten minutes, feeling sore, bored and uncomfortable the whole time. I gave up.
Tom then got on — after I helped him secure the damn pedals onto his shoes — and rode through New Zealand, a lovelier trip than my dreary Swiss jaunt. I sat on the couch and had started to read the day’s newspapers when he yelled, “the seat did something to my ass.” He extricated himself from the bike. His butt was rubbed raw, the skin broken and bleeding. That was the final straw for both of us. And the final ride.
That afternoon, Tom called Peloton to pick up the bike, exercising their 30-day return policy. We packed up all the extras we had bought: the pedal cages, the cleat shoes, the gel seat. I was profoundly relieved, especially because Tom was no longer infatuated with the Peloton and delighted to return it. Two days later, as they hauled it away, he shouted to me, “the Peloton has left the building.”
Over the weekend, we found a fitness equipment store that got fine reviews on Yelp, and we bought the kind of stationary bike we should have had all along — simple, comfortable, a seat with a back, no need for special shoes or clamps.
The only irony? The company, Precor, is owned by Peloton. The perfect bike should arrive in a few days. I’m excited. So is Techno Tom.
Marcia Seligson is a theatrical producer in Los Angeles and New York and a sometimes journalist. She is currently writing her memoirs.
