Cathy Heller, host of the “Don’t Keep Your Day Job” podcast and spiritual business coach, puts love behind every thought, conversation and endeavor.
Over the last two decades, she’s been on the search for God and figuring out how to live the most meaningful life possible. Through her workshops and retreats, she’s been a catalyst to help thousands of souls step into the most expansive versions of themselves.
“To me, it’s very much about tikkun olam (repairing the world) and being what God put us in the world to be,” Heller told the Journal.
Heller believes that feeling connected to the soul and stepping away from ego is what makes the difference. People need to stop waiting to know everything and start being who they are meant to be.
“People think humility is humility, and it’s actually egocentric,” she said. “It’s thinking about ego rather than being connected to service.”
To put it in perspective, Heller shared an example from her friend, author Seth Godin. Imagine if you were a lifeguard and on your third day, while the senior lifeguard is at lunch, someone starts to drown. You wouldn’t say, “I’m new” and sit by. You would show up as your best self and dive right in.
Heller, who grew up in a secular home, fell in love with traditional Judaism in her early 20s. She studied mysticism in Israel with Rabbi David Aaron and Rav Binny Freedman. She got her undergraduate degree in comparative religion, studied at the UCLA Mindful Awareness Research Center and was mentored by mindfulness expert Susan Kaiser Greenland. She began leading mindfulness classes in 2009.
Heller met her husband, Lowell Reinstein, at Rabbi Shlomo Seidenfeld’s weekly Torah class. While they don’t belong to any particular synagogue, she loves listening to David Sacks speak at the Happy Minyan. Her kids go to school at Stephen S. Wise.
Since taking a winding road to discover her own path, Heller has encouraged others to follow their dreams.
When Heller came to Los Angeles in 2003 as an aspiring singer, she hoped to score a record deal. When two deals didn’t work out, she tried several day jobs over the next two years, which made her miserable.
After her own “aha” moment of feeling like she didn’t belong, she said she asked herself a new question: “If I’m not going to be a rock star, is there any other way? Is there any other possibility of how I could do what I love every single day and get paid?”
Heller embarked on a successful career, independently licensing her music to film, TV and commercials. And, after some encouragement, she began teaching others to do the same.
“In the fourth month of that first year, one of my songwriting students said ‘85% of what you’re saying has nothing to do with music, it’s about any dream,’” Heller said.
That epiphany led to launching her “Don’t Keep Your Day Job” podcast, which she started in 2016. Heller had a 2-week-old baby, as well as a 3 and 5-year-old, and started recording in a closet in her home.
“The podcast went out in the world, and it really spoke to people,” Heller said. “I think people can feel when energy is genuine, like how the Talmud says that words from the heart speak to the heart.”
On her show, which has surpassed 35 million downloads, she has interviewed Deepak Chopra, Marianne Williamson and Starbucks’s Howard Schultz.
On her show, which has surpassed 35 million downloads, she has interviewed Deepak Chopra, Marianne Williamson and Starbucks’s Howard Schultz. “I’ve literally interviewed any person whose book I’ve read and any person I’ve looked up to in arts, sports, etc.,” she said.
Heller considers her vocal presence as a Jewish woman on her podcast a badge of honor.
“People are so thirsty to learn about mysticism and what the Talmud says, and so that’s a thread that’s very, very much woven into everything,” she said.
The podcast had been so transformational that two years ago, Heller had a Queen Esther moment.
“When Mordechai says to Esther, ‘Maybe you have this place in the palace for such a time as this,’ I started to think, ‘I have so much more in me that’s really the reason that all of this has happened, which is actually totally spiritual.'”
As Heller would interview people, she discovered what they all had in common was the way in which they plugged into reality and how they saw everything through a wider lens.
As Heller would interview people, she discovered what they all had in common was the way in which they plugged into reality and how they saw everything through a wider lens.
She began teaching people how to find abundance in every area of their life.
Early on, Heller’s rabbi spoke with her about the book, “The Secret.” Rather than the law of attraction, Jews would call it “the law of reception” he told her.
“It’s not about moving yourself through time and space in order to get the things that you want,” Heller said. ”It’s about moving into a resonance where you tune your radio, your vibration, to the same station.”
Heller wants people to realize, “You are needed.” Whatever your natural gift is, whether it’s designing clothing, arranging flowers, making cheesecake or writing, it matters.
“So often people have these two lies: ‘I’m not enough’ or ‘it’s not possible,’” Heller said. “What if you were more than enough and what if it was completely possible? And what if you could spend every day doing things you love, getting paid to do them? What would happen? Anyone who’s become successful has that tendency to dive in and figure things out along the way.”
The little red “1” appears on the top right corner of the WhatsApp icon on my phone. I’ve just finished checking messages from the 1,678,844 groups I’m in, and now this happens.
“Does anyone know where to get a passport in LA?” the member of a local synagogue group writes.
Do I answer, or do I let it sit? Surely, someone else will answer.
But I can’t stop myself. I’m too helpful!
I spend five minutes writing out the answer, finding the right links to send to this person, explaining all the steps and wishing them luck. I hit send and put down my phone. Phew.
The “1” pops up again. Now what? My eye is starting to twitch.
“Yeah but where can I get one FAST LIKE TODAY? I’m going to Israel in 46 hours!” the group member exclaims.
I know the answer, but I didn’t see a “thank you.” Do I reply? Do I not? I let it sit, putting my phone face down.
I want to help her, I really do. Gosh. I feel the sweat dripping down my forehead. My heart is beating fast. If I don’t answer her, will she find out what to do? Will she think I’m ignoring her? I pick up my phone again.
“Try the Federal Building,” I write.
She shoots back, “What is this Federal Building? Where is it? How do I get there?”
I’ve had enough.
“Please Google it,” I say, sighing.
WAGA is a (fake) medical condition where you belong to too many WhatsApp Groups that you check too often and feel anxious because you check them too often.
I have what I call WAGA – WhatsApp Group Anxiety. WAGA is a (fake) medical condition where you belong to too many WhatsApp Groups that you check too often and feel anxious because you check them too often.
Yes, I’ll admit: WhatsApp is incredibly helpful. If I want to find events going on in my neighborhood or ask about what time the pizza shop is open after Shabbat or give away some stuff I don’t need anymore, I turn to WhatsApp.
But like many apps, WhatsApp is mostly a waste of time. I spend way too much time checking the groups I’m in, feeling bad about the news I see on there and sometimes experiencing another (fake) medical condition, FOMO (fear of missing out).
Of course, there’s the drama too. You would think that people would learn by now not to bring up politics in a public forum, but nope. People will express their political opinions with memes or sweeping statements about politicians or the hot button issues of today, and inevitably, someone will get upset. A little back and forth spat will ensue. An admin will come in like a referee, getting in the middle of the two contenders, and tell them to cut it out or else. In the WhatsApp world, that means exile. You may be asked to leave the group. Or, you may passive aggressively leave before this can happen, and everyone will know it because it displays that you’ve left.
Speaking of which, that’s another thing I get anxious about. What if I don’t want to be part of a group anymore? It’s going to announce to everyone that I’ve opted out. “Hey guys,” I want to say, “it’s not personal! I’m just sick of checking my phone!”
Now, you’re probably thinking: Doesn’t this lady know she can mute the groups? Then she won’t see notifications.
Ha. You think I don’t already do that? Sometimes, it gives me more anxiety knowing that chats are happening and I’m not seeing the notifications. It’s an unbreakable, unwinnable WAGA cycle.
There are just too many distractions today. Nobody can think. Everybody believes they are busier than they really are because they’re always on their phones. It’s (fake) busy-ness. Answering WhatsApp group chats, as well as going on social media or checking email, is typically not productive. And, of course, it’s making us into nervous wrecks.
My advice? Put down the phone. Turn focus mode on. Take some time to be quiet, to be unproductive, to be bored. Hear yourself think. Reconnect with yourself.
And then, once you’re ready to approach communication from a good place – and not a place of anxiety – you can connect with others on your phone in a healthy, meaningful and fulfilling way.
Kylie Ora Lobell is the Community Editor of the Jewish Journal. Want to reach me? Please send me an email at kylieol@jewishjournal.com.
Various Jewish groups have issued statements and tweets expressing support for novelist Salman Rushdie after he was stabbed multiple times during an August 12 event, with some groups calling for Twitter to remove Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei from the website.
Rushdie, 75, was being introduced for a lecture at New York’s Chautauqua Institution when the attack occurred; police have arrested Hadi Matar, 24, for being the alleged attacker. Matar has pleaded not guilty to the charges. The Iranian regime issued a fatwa––a legal ruling based on the Islamic law––against Rushdie in 1988 over his book The Satanic Verses. Rushdie, who is currently hospitalized, has been taken off a ventilator but his son described Rushdie’s injuries as “life-changing.”
“Last year, Twitter asked for public input on policy for world leaders. I can tell you that it’s past time to drop Khamenei and stop amplifying the violent and antisemitic voices from Iran.”– Jonathan Greenblatt
Anti-Defamation League CEO Jonathan Greenblatt was among those calling for Khamanei to be removed from Twitter. “Is there nothing else that will get @Twitter’s attention after @SalmanRushdie’s attack?” he tweeted. “Last year, Twitter asked for public input on policy for world leaders. I can tell you that it’s past time to drop Khamenei and stop amplifying the violent and antisemitic voices from Iran.” Greenblatt added in a subsequent tweet: “Inexcusable that @Twitter continues to amplify Khamenei’s #antisemitism. The Iranian autocrat flagrantly promotes violence & endorses terrorism. What explanation could [Twitter CEO Parag Agrawal] have for not suspending a leader who chronically posts abusive & hateful content?
“If the attack on Salman Rushdie is connected to the Iranian ‘fatwa’ calling for his execution, it is one more link in the chain of murder and attempted murder that originates in Tehran under the mullahs,” the American Jewish Committee said in a statement to the Journal. “For decades, we’ve seen hard evidence of Iran’s sponsorship of terror, from the U.S. Marine barracks in Beirut to the Israeli Embassy and AMIA bombings in Buenos Aires, the Mykonos restaurant killings in Berlin, and just in recent days the thwarted attack against Iranian women’s rights activist Masih Alinejad, and the assassination plot against former National Security Adviser John Bolton. Now, Salman Rushdie has fallen victim to the violence and intolerance Iran inspires and encourages. We must all condemn egregious attacks like this, as we wish him a swift recovery.”
The Simon Wiesenthal Center tweeted that they are “outraged but not shocked that renowned author and free speech icon #SalmanRushdie has been violently attacked. Pray for him. Iranian regime offered $3 million to kill him. @POTUS must end talks with Tehran as it tries to assassinate Americans.”
Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish American Organizations Chair Diane Lob and CEO William Daroff said in a statement: “We are shocked and outraged by the assassination attempt on author Salman Rushdie at New York state’s Chautauqua Institution and condemn in the strongest possible terms Iran’s direct ordering of its followers to murder Rushdie and others opposed to the regime’s criminal behavior. Iran remains the world’s most significant supporter of terrorism directly and through its regional and international proxies, particularly the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), an armed, political faction responsible for untold deaths, violations of human rights, support for terror, and the targeting of American and Western interests across the globe.” Lob and Daroff called for the United States to implement “increased sanctions and other strong measures” against the Iranian regime and for Twitter to suspend Khamenei and five other accounts connected to the regime.
StandWithUs tweeted out a link to a story about the Iranian Foreign Ministry denying being behind the Rushdie stabbing, but arguing that Rushdie brought it on himself for “insulting” the Islamic faith. “This is an oppressive regime backing violent threats to free speech all over the world,” the pro-Israel education group wrote. “The Iranian government is everyone’s problem.”
Summer is in full swing, and it’s a great time to explore different cultures, learn from different people and glean enlightenment from our travels. England has learned from Russian revolutionaries when it comes to symbolically decapitating its head of state and kicking out Prime Minister Boris Johnson despite his winning the biggest electoral victory since 1987. Johnson’s downfall was for the minor sin of getting caught telling lies, and he should have learned from U.S. deep state operatives on how to effectively share misinformation. A new leadership battle is now in play for the UK Prime Minister, with American-style debate, although British politicians need to learn from televised Presidential debates and stop being so polite to one another.
Prime Ministerial-hopefuls might emulate the 2016 Trump-Clinton debates and threaten to send one another to prison if they get elected. What’s the point of having medieval jail cells at the Tower of London if you’re not going to use them? The London Dungeons have specific torture rooms that are well-designed for political opponents, and it’s a waste to maintain them purely for the entertainment of foreign tourists.
It was like the good old days once again, if by “good old days” we mean the pandemic stay-at-home lockdown.
Meanwhile the summer has been a mixed experience for many families since the inflated cost of utility bills thwarted many people’s vacations, high gas prices prevented many people from local driving holidays, and plenty of Europeans had their flights canceled. It was like the good old days once again, if by “good old days” we mean the pandemic stay-at-home lockdown.
There is a blessing in disguise for those abandoned trips to visit amusement parks. I have a happy childhood memory of going to the Wet ’n’ Wild waterpark on a family trip to Las Vegas, and experiencing the giant vertical slide that felt like being flushed down a toilet. Part of its thrill was being in what seemed like a dangerous situation. It should be of no cause for concern that there are now specialist Amusement Park Injury Lawyers. If you are visiting a theme park, please choose one with an excellent safety history. A safer option would be to get flushed down a toilet.
Disneyworld is always fun, although Florida life has become challenging for Donald (Duck, not Trump). Disney recently lost its status as having its own unique tax district, which meant that they enjoyed all kinds of tax benefits like not having to pay much tax.
Disney should reestablish financial autonomy and claim independence from the union. The “happiest place on earth” has a full complement of resources to happily go it alone. They can form their own militia, using muskets pistols and cutlasses from the “Pirates of the Caribbean” experience, even if the weaponry would be more suited to the Tower of London. Disney’s junta already has naval landing gear with boats from the “It’s a Small World After All” ride, and staff uniforms can be repurposed for camouflage in Florida swamps. Supply lines won’t be a problem since there are plenty of concession stands, and there is even a fortified castle with a moat that can be commandeered from Cinderella. She will be easy to overcome since her only defense is a fairy godmother, and if Cinders thinks her castle is safe then she is literally living in a fairytale.
Disney warlords will be ruthless, and heads will roll. That will be fine since cast members playing Mickey and friends all remove their heads at the end of every shift.
At least this was a pleasant summer for British people to stay at home, with highlights like last month’s hottest-ever day on record, which was lovely since UK homes don’t have air conditioning. England did well in the 2022 Commonwealth Games, and it helped not having to beat serious international rivals like America and China. The biggest win of all was the England women’s football team vanquishing Germany in the UEFA Women’s Euro 2022 soccer tournament. It was the first time England had beaten Germany in 50 years, and one thing England loves doing is beating Germany.
This summer is a time to choose our leaders, whether it is the UK’s Prime Minister or planning for November mid-terms. The problem is that unlike Disney, modern politics all feels a bit Mickey Mouse.
Marcus J Freed is an actor, writer and Jewish educator. www.marcusjfreed.com and on social @marcusjfreed
On Sunday evening, two Israeli generals sat on a stage to announce their new partnership. It felt like deja-vu. Not so long ago, Benny Gantz, the head of Blue and White, had a general-partner—Gabi Ashkenazi. He now has a new one—Gadi Eizenkot. Gantz and Ashkenazi had a third partner, a mere civilian, in Yair Lapid, the head of Yesh Atid. Gantz and Eizenkot have a third partner, a mere civilian, in Gideon Saar, the head of New Hope.
The rest is just about the same. The polls didn’t show much movement. The voters did not show much excitement. Another day, another merger, another attempt to break the logjam. If it is interesting, this is because of what’s missing from the debate and the considerations of politicians: the Palestinian issue.
Consider the new party. It has a name that doesn’t translate to anything remotely comprehensive in English. The Mamlachti Camp. It also doesn’t have much meaning in Hebrew. More a sentiment of coherence than a term with specific significance. Never mind that; the new merged conglomerate of two parties and the new joiners is one of split personality when it comes to the Palestinian issue. Eizenkot warns time and again from a possible glide to a reality of “one state.” His position is newspeak for “I support an Israeli withdrawal from parts of the West bank” in some fashion. Saar is a staunch hawk, who opposes the “two state solution.” When his now merged party was formed, one of its stated goals was “realizing the natural and historical rights of the Jewish people in the Land of Israel”—that is, including Judea and Samaria.
Ask: How can Eizenkot and Saar be in the same party? The answer is as simple as it is telling. They can join forces because the Palestinian issue is a non-issue. It is not on the agenda. It is not on the table. So much so, that two leaders with incompatible views can share a party and a platform while disagreeing on what once used to be the key issue for all the main parties.
Not long ago, we tested in a poll what are the issues that Israelis consider to be the most important for the country to deal with. The majority ranked “political challenges” at the top, followed by “cost of living.” There are some Israelis who rated the “peace process” as their first priority but they are very few. Thus, this challenge was placed low in the first-priority rankings, and even lower on a combined ranking of all preferences. That is, because for most Israelis the “peace process” is not just “not first priority,” it is pushed down to the very bottom, last place, or second to last (the list included nine possible challenges to rank).
The leader of another made-up party, the newly formed Zionist Spirit, zeroed in on the Eizenkot agenda: This party, said minister Ayelet Shaked, supports the two-state solution, and hence could not be the political home of true right-wingers. Shaked is fighting for her political career as the head of the party that doesn’t seem to have enough votes to cross the electoral threshold. She will attempt to portray the Gantz-Eizenkot party as “leftist.” Alas, Saar stands in her way, and with him a few other rightwing allies, such as minister Zeev Elkin. So, the truth is that the Mamlachti Camp is neither left nor right on the Palestinian issue, it is incoherent. It is of two contradicting minds. And that’s the point: being of two minds on an issue is only possible when the issue isn’t important. No voter is troubled if one leader of a party prefers the color green, and the other leader prefers the color purple. Likewise, the voters do not seem to be bothered by the fact that one leader opposes settlements, and one supports settlements. You say potato, I say potato. Whatever.
The Palestinians aren’t going anywhere, and the challenge of having to deal with them is one of the most complicated and fateful for the future of Israel.
This is both telling and dangerous. On the one hand, it demonstrates the extent to which the Palestinian issue is marginalized as a wedge issue for Israelis. They might disagree on long-term goals but agree that the short-term prospect for meaningful breakthrough is non-existent and hence see no reason to debate the issue or focus on it. On the other hand, this is a head in the sand position. The Palestinians aren’t going anywhere, and the challenge of having to deal with them is one of the most complicated and fateful for the future of Israel. Some might dare to suggest: it is even more indicative of whether Netanyahu stays or goes. But clearly, that’s not the current position of most Israeli voters.
Something I wrote in Hebrew
Following operation Breaking Dawn in Gaza last week I wrote this: Israel has done work that serves the interests of Hamas. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s worth mentioning. It is worth mentioning that Israel’s interest and that of Hamas in the context of Islamic Jihad are quite similar. Hamas wants to control Gaza, and Israel wants Hamas to control Gaza. On the one hand, if it wants Hamas to rule, why would it do the work for them? Israel could have told Hamas to calm down Islamic Jihad or bear the consequence. On the other hand, maybe if Israel does some work for Hamas it will become easier for its leaders to also make some demands, and see a positive response.
A week’s numbers
What are Israelis voting on? See the column above, and also these new numbers from an IDI survey.
A reader’s response:
Shira Golhorn wrote: “When I read in your column how much Israelis no longer care about Palestinian lives it fills me with despair.” Dear Shira, this is an ongoing violent conflict, and there’s our side and the side of the enemy. Of course, the side of the enemy includes many good people, innocent people. That’s the tragedy of war: It is not easy to keep thinking about the wellbeing of one’s enemy.
Shmuel Rosner is senior political editor. For more analysis of Israeli and international politics, visit Rosner’s Domain at jewishjournal.com/rosnersdomain.
Mother and daughter stood next to one another at the bimah as part of a jubilant bat mitzvah ceremony. Then, one of them took a deep breath and began to recite verses from that week’s Torah portion.
The speaker was confident, having trained for this moment for two years. And the loving presence of her family and friends, as well as the synagogue’s rabbi and cantor helped put her at ease.
The bat mitzvah girl, incidentally, was 83-year-old Ruth Goldstein.
She stood at the bimah alongside her daughter, Rabbi Lisa Goldstein, at Temple Sinai of Glendale during Shabbat evening services on Friday, June 29 and embraced this sweet rite of passage that she had worked so hard to savor.
I asked Ruth why, at her age, having a bat mitzvah was important to her. Her answer blew me away: “My mother, having grown up in Nazi Germany, didn’t really feel Jewish because she wasn’t allowed to live openly as a Jew, and in some ways, I felt similar. Having this bat mitzvah was in some ways a validation that I am Jewish,” she told me.
To understand Ruth’s journey, one must trace the family lineage to Nazi Germany in the 1930s, where Ruth’s mother, Ilse, had completed medical school and her father, Heinz Lowenstam, had finished his Ph.D. studies. But Heinz wasn’t given his degree for the same reason that he and Ilse weren’t allowed to work in Hitler’s Germany: They were Jews.
In 1937, the couple escaped Germany and entered the United States as refugees by securing an affidavit from Ilse’s brother. They settled in Chicago, where their oldest child, Ruth, was born in 1939. “All of my childhood, I was so grateful that my parents got out of Germany, so I’ve always been grateful to this country,” said Ruth. Tragically, her mother lost 13 relatives in the Holocaust.
But once in America, “the family wanted to leave behind the suffering of the old world,” Ruth’s daughter, Rabbi Lisa Goldstein, told me. That meant that they pursued very little Jewish education for their children. When Ruth was 13, Heinz secured a job at CalTech and the family moved from Chicago to Altadena, Southern California.
Eight years after moving to Southern California, Ruth, then 21, met a handsome radar astronomer named Richard who grew up in Indianapolis, but had moved to Pasadena to pursue a doctorate from CalTech in Electrical Engineering. Like Ruth, Richard hadn’t grown up in an observant Jewish home, either.
They met on a blind date when they went to see a folk singer perform on Yom Kippur in 1960; they passed by Wilshire Boulevard Temple and saw Jews entering the synagogue for Kol Nidre, “but they weren’t in that mind frame to actually go to services; it wasn’t part of their lives,” said Lisa.
Ruth and Richard were married in 1964. Ruth had always wanted to be a mother, and when Lisa and her two younger brothers Samuel and Joshua grew up, Ruth became a therapist. Despite having been raised secular, Ruth was always interested in spirituality, or as Lisa likes to say, “it was always in her.” At one point, she suggested to Richard that the family join a Unitarian Church, but Richard responded, “We’re Jews. If we go anywhere, let’s go to a synagogue.”
That explains why Lisa, Samuel and Joshua attended Sunday school at Temple Sinai of Glendale, a reform congregation. When a young Lisa arrived home one day and declared, “We learned about Shabbat!” Ruth enthusiastically responded, “Okay, let’s do Shabbat!” Ruth even baked challah, made a hand-embroidered challah cover, and said the prayer over lighting Shabbat candles. The family also recited the kiddush prayer over wine.
“She [Ruth] would have gotten more involved with Judaism earlier, but all of the information you had to know was just overwhelming, and the fact that she didn’t know Hebrew was a huge obstacle,” recalled Lisa. But the Goldstein children were still exposed to Judaism: Ruth told her kids they could choose to have a bar/bat mitzvah, and Lisa and Joshua had theirs at Temple Sinai of Glendale.
“It was really Lisa who brought Judaism into our home,” reflected Ruth. Lisa asked to attend Sunday school and learn another language (it was Ruth who suggested that Lisa learn Hebrew).
In the years that followed, Lisa became ordained as a rabbi (that’s an amazing story for a separate column), but Ruth didn’t feel entitled to her own Jewish identity because she remained pained by her inability to read Hebrew. When Ruth turned 75, Lisa gave her loving mother a pomegranate-embroidered tallit because she (Ruth) was attending Temple Sinai of Glendale, where both men and women don tallit, frequently, but Ruth responded that she didn’t deserve to wear the tallit because she didn’t read Hebrew.
For decades, Ruth found another outlet for spirituality through hiking in the mountains, and when Lisa turned 40, mother and daughter climbed Mount Kilimanjaro together. “She’s an amazing hiker,” said Lisa. “She beat me up and down that mountain both ways.” Each year, Ruth visits the Grand Canyon; she hikes down the canyon, sleeps overnight and climbs up in the morning. “Hiking is where her spiritual expression came out,” reflected Lisa. “It was more accessible for her.”
As Ruth approached her 83rd birthday, Lisa’s aunt, Susan, reminded the family that in Tehillim (Psalms) 90, Moses declares that the span of human life is 70 years (“The days of our years because of them are seventy years”). Perhaps Ruth could experience her bat mitzvah at age 83 (adding 70 and the traditional 13), suggested Susan, citing a Jewish custom for some older adults.
But the thought of learning enough Hebrew to chant Torah verses and have a bat mitzvah ceremony was too daunting for Ruth, and she rejected the idea.
One week later, Ruth called Lisa in Manhattan and asked, “You think I could do it?” Lisa was thrilled. “Let’s do it!” she cried. That was in 2020.
Over the next two years, Ruth and Lisa studied Hebrew together twice a week via telephone; Lisa even bought Ruth a helpful series of textbooks called “Aleph Isn’t Tough.” Ever curious and passionate, Ruth didn’t simply didn’t want to learn how to decode Hebrew letter by letter; she wanted to truly understand the meaning behind each word.
“I didn’t even know the [Hebrew] alphabet,” said Ruth. “There were times when I would get discouraged and Lisa would say, ‘That’s natural. Just study a little more and you’ll feel better.’ So I studied one, sometimes two hours a day. Lisa was right. I always felt better.”
I asked Lisa what it was like to teach her mother Hebrew. “It was so tender and sweet, because she cares about it so much and she really, really wants to feel at home in this tradition,” she said. “And it’s hard; it’s hard no matter how old you are. As you get older, it gets harder. This was just so huge for her.”
Together, Ruth and Lisa managed to turn a devastating pandemic into an opportunity to learn and connect, 3,000 miles apart between Ruth’s home in La Cañada and Lisa’s home in Manhattan.
Together, Ruth and Lisa managed to turn a devastating pandemic into an opportunity to learn and connect, 3,000 miles apart between Ruth’s home in La Cañada and Lisa’s home in Manhattan (for Lisa, there’s still a connection in her life with Germany; she lives in what was originally a German Jewish refugee neighborhood nicknamed “Frankfurt on the Hudson”). Lisa even recorded herself chanting verses from Ruth’s Torah portion and sent the recordings to her mother. “Lisa’s a wonderful teacher,” said Ruth, who learned the Hebrew alphabet, as well as basic Hebrew grammar and cantillation.
Ruth also connected with Temple Sinai’s Rabbi Rick Schechter, who helped her plan the bat mitzvah and also prepare a powerful dvar Torah. “That night, we were celebrating Ruth,” Rabbi Schechter told me. “And we were celebrating the deep significance of Torah and Judaism—the transformative role it can play in our lives and in the lives of our families.”
Her parasha (weekly Torah portion) was Parashat Masei, which includes descriptions of the stations of the Israelites’ journey in the wilderness. “I thought about the journey that Moses and Aaron led, and I thought about how my life has been a journey, too,” Ruth told me. “The Israelites escaped bondage; my parents escaped the Nazis in 1937. And I thought about other journeys, including the time that I was 22 and went with my father to Rio, Brazil, to celebrate his parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary” (Heinz’s parents had also escaped Nazi Germany but weren’t allowed in the U.S. without affidavits, so they resettled in Brazil). Ruth continued, “During that trip, I was so amazed to see that my grandparents still loved each other, and I wanted that for myself.”
True to form, Ruth worked diligently to invest in her relationship with Richard: “I made sure that the goal that I set for myself at 22 became true,” she said. The couple has been married 58 years. Richard, now 95, beamed with pride at Ruth’s bat mitzvah last month.
And he wasn’t the only one. Ruth invited “all kinds of people” to share her jubilant accomplishment, according to Lisa. The guest list included family (one niece flew in from Charlottesville, VA), friends new and old, and of course, friends Ruth has made from decades of hiking.
Most Friday nights since the pandemic began, the synagogue had hosted 15-20 worshippers, according to Ruth. But that night, 100 people gathered at Temple Sinai of Glendale to support Ruth Goldstein.
How did it feel to chant nine verses of a Torah portion and to experience a bat mitzvah at 83? “It was wonderful; I was so grateful,” said Ruth. “I was just overcome. It was almost like the High Holy Days.” Ruth asked Lisa to stand next to her at the bima; it was the same bima where Lisa and Ruth’s youngest son, Joshua, had stood during their respective bat and bar mitzvah ceremonies. To say that the moment embodied a full circle would be an understatement: Decades earlier, when an adolescent Lisa had read in Hebrew from her bat mitzvah parasha at that bima, she had actually paused each recitation to translate the words into English for those listening. Afterward, Ruth said to Lisa, “You should be a rabbi!”
When Ruth finished chanting her verses and delivering her dvar Torah, she was delighted when several attendees told her that they wanted to experience a bar or bat mitzvah as older adults, too. The celebration also included delectable baked goods. Naturally, Ruth and her friends had spent over a month baking and freezing the sweet treats.
“One of the most touching and heartfelt moments was when Ruth passed the Torah through the generations before she marched with it around the sanctuary,” said Rabbi Schechter. Traditionally, grandparents pass the Torah to parents, who pass it to bar/bat mitzvah adolescent.
Ruth Goldstein (center) with her family at her Bat Mitzvah. Photo courtesy Lisa Goldstein
But Ruth wanted to do something different: She and Richard passed the Torah to their three children, and they passed it to their two grandchildren who were present. Then, at Ruth’s request, the teenage grandchildren passed the Torah back to their parents, and then they passed it back to their parents, Ruth and Richard. It symbolized “the giving and receiving of love that takes place through the generations, the giving and receiving of Jewish commitment and traditions that passes between family members,” said Rabbi Schechter. “The generations feed each other in a reciprocal relationship.”
Ruth urges Jewish adults to consider a bar/bat mitzvah ceremony, and Rabbi Schechter agrees.
“Learning in Judaism is indeed meant to be lifelong. No matter our age or experience, we can always grow—we can always learn, develop, and enrich our lives and the lives of others. Becoming an adult b’nei mitzvah confirms that we continually have experiences throughout our lives that are sacred—such special moments that are pregnant with meaning and significance.”
I asked Ruth whether after two years of daily Hebrew learning and one very meaningful bat mitzvah ceremony during which she read from Torah, she finally felt Jewish. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Now I feel like I’m Jewish. It’s a real gift.”
Tabby Refael is an award-winning LA-based writer, speaker and civic action activist. Follow her on Twitter @TabbyRefael
During Hanukkah of last year, my mother sent me two sweatshirts from the new and very Jewish clothing line “Bubuleh.” One sweatshirt is imprinted with the name of the company, a word that most Jews regardless of their background can recognize as Yiddish pet-name used by zaydes and bubbes, and the other is adorned with the word “faygelah,” a Yiddish slang term for a homosexual. Though I didn’t put these garments on my wish list, my mom was certain I would love them. And I indeed love them. Walking around both New York City and Israel in these sweatshirts—getting smiles, smirks, nods and eyerolls from fellow Jews—I immediately feel a sense of kinship, a feeling that comes straight from the heart of Bubuleh and its founder: nice Jewish boy Jordan Star.
Jewish identity has always been important to Star. He was involved in Hillel in college, he lived in Israel for a brief time, and he, like many young Jews, pinpoints his Jewish grandparents as a source of joy. Many of us identify Yiddish as being the language of our ancestors, and still feel a sense of warmth when we hear it around the Shabbat dinner table. “I am trying to bring people, through clothing, to a better time,” Star says. “If you look at the research into nostalgia, you’ll see that people are always looking for a way to feel the comfort of childhood, or the comfort of a time gone by.” Bubuleh, which launched in December 2020, seeks to express a particularly Jewish nostalgia through the medium of fashion.
The tagline of the Bubuleh online store is “made with love and a little anxiety.”
And it succeeds. The tagline of the Bubuleh online store is “made with love and a little anxiety,” which is embroidered in playful colors on one of their bestselling t-shirts. Other items include shorts that read “kiss my tuchus,” and a facemask that says “shayna punim.” Select attire has been publicly donned by Jake Cohen, the New York Times bestselling author of the Jewish cookbook “Jew-ish,” and Shoshana Bean, the singer/songwriter currently starring on Broadway alongside Billy Crystal in “Mr. Saturday Night.”
Star, now working out of his apartment in Los Angeles, explained to me the irony of his garments appealing more broadly to young people while their inspiration comes from the older generations of American Jews. “One day during the pandemic, my cousin Rachel and I went to my grandmother’s house, and immediately started complaining about whatever was upsetting us that day. My grandma, who was undergoing intense chemotherapy at the time, stopped in the middle of our ranting, and just said ‘Do you guys realize that I’m the one with cancer?’”
The attitudes of sabbas and saftas during the pandemic encouraged Star to show them appreciation in an artistic way.
The attitudes of sabbas and saftas during the pandemic encouraged Star to show them appreciation in an artistic way. He notes: “Everyone I knew was so miserable—constantly talking about how their lives had been obstructed. But the older people, they adapted so quickly to Zoom and to other virtual gatherings without many complaints, and they were the ones with the threat of death over their heads. I found this to be really resilient.” Therefore, Star notes, the incorporation of Yiddish and fashion is not only an outlet for younger Jews to feel tethered to Jewish holiday meals and kisses from relatives at the Bar or Bat Mitzvah, but also a salute to our elders and all the challenges they have had to overcome to keep Judaism alive.
In addition to a clear Jewish influence, Bubuleh also conveys an LGBT aura that has made the brand particularly attractive to gay, Jewish young people. “The queer aspect of my identity and the Jewish aspect of my identity are definitely intertwined—I don’t see them as separate from each other,” Star explains, a sentiment to which I can relate strongly. The month of June is designated for sexual minorities to be openly proud of who they are—often expressed through unique clothing. Star suggests that the same avenue for pride should be available for Jewish people.
Jordan Star
“I see connections between how gay people have always been nervous to publicly show their identities and the way Jewish people have been periodically anxious to wear their Judaism on their sleeves,” Star explains. “Like last May for example, during the conflict between Israel and Hamas, even people I know were taking the mezuzahs off their doors and hiding their Magen David necklaces. What I design, what I put on clothes … I make sure that it helps people explore who they are and be proud of it. Seeing other people wearing cheeky Yiddish slogans creates a feeling of safety.””
Though Bubuleh clearly comes packaged with Jewish themes, it is a clothing brand for all people. “We are Jewish owned and Jewish inspired, but everyone and anyone can buy, in the same way that clothing manufactured by people of color with their culture intertwined in the fabric can be celebrated by everyone,” Star explains. “It’s an act of allyship, especially during a time when antisemitism is on the rise.” Star was also surprised at how many non-Jews knew what the word “Bubuleh” meant but were not aware that it came from Yiddish. “If everyone is going to know Yiddish because so many words are in the vocabulary today, they might as well support Jews and Jewish businesses who make it their trademark.”
Toward the end of our conversation, Star and I discussed how clothing manufacturing is embedded in the Jewish-American story. The first members of my family who made their way across the ocean worked in the garment district in New York City, as did many of their fellow Lower East Side dwellers. My great-grandfather opened a men’s clothing store on King’s Highway in Brooklyn that has since become a CVS Pharmacy. When we think of Jewish contribution to American society, we often think first of law, of media, of academia, but oddly, rarely of fashion.
“There are many important Jewish contributions to fashion, including Diane von Furstenberg, Marc Jacobs, and Tory Burch,” Star notes. “They’re not outspoken about being Jewish, however, because although America has been good to us, it sort of pressures us to detach from Judaism if we want to be successful in our fields.” Bubuleh seeks to combat this by injecting the spirit of Yiddishkeit back into clothing, to not only provide customers with quality material, but also to remind us of the Jewish contribution in what we wear.
“Wearing Bubuleh,” Star closes, “reminds us who we are and where we came from. It’s here to challenge internalized antisemitism by forming a community and getting back in touch with our roots. If Jews are going to survive, we need to know who we are.”
As a gesture of camaraderie with fellow Angelinos, Star is offering readers of Jewish Journal a 15% discount on merchandise from bubuleh.com if they use the code “JJ15” at checkout.
Blake Flayton is New Media Director and columnist for the Jewish Journal.
The nation’s attention has been riveted as of late on Palm Beach, Florida, where FBI agents recently searched Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago resort for confidential government documents that the former president may have taken with him when he left the White House on his last day in office. A little-noticed footnote to the political drama is the perfunctory role played by federal magistrate judge Bruce Reinhart, who approved the bureau’s request for a warrant to search the resort premises. Although Reinhart’s decision was simply a bureaucratic step to allow the investigation to proceed, the judge has been the target of hateful invective and death threats from the former president’s most fanatical supporters since issuing his ruling.
The fact that Reinhart happens to be Jewish is a footnote to the footnote, except to a group of particularly repugnant individuals who have used the judge’s decision as an opportunity to spread their noxious brand of antisemitism. Right wing message boards and other social media platforms have been rife with slurs against Reinhart’s religious faith, his family and his synagogue. As a result, both the Anti-Defamation League and local law enforcement are monitoring the threats, and the temple where he is a board member has been forced to hire additional security and cancel an outdoor service.
Reinhart has been predictably criticized by many Republicans as a partisan agent. But there is a difference between typical knee-jerk political gamesmanship on one hand and threats of violence and outright bigotry on the other. No notable conservative figure has crossed this line, and Senator Marco Rubio (R-FL) has called for the arrest of anyone threatening violence against Reinhart. But at the time this article was written, no significant Republican figure had publicly condemned the anti-Semitic ugliness targeted toward the judge that has been emanating from the far-right fringes of online media.
One of the recurring themes in this column has been the dual challenges that American Jews face from both extreme ends of the political spectrum. Because the debate over Israel within the Democratic Party has become so heated in recent years, and because disagreements over Middle East policy have become an increasingly important aspect of many party primaries, I have spent more time writing about the threat to Israel – and the accompanying danger to American Jews – from the left than from the right. But I have consistently made the effort to note that these hatreds come from both ends of the political spectrum and that the anti-Semitic menace from ultra-conservatives is equally pernicious as that from equally radicalized progressives.
The blood-and-soil invective against Judge Reinhart now serves as a necessary reminder that no political party has a monopoly on irrational bigotry. Virulent anti-Semitism is an ongoing feature of the hard-core nationalism that has infected the most distasteful elements of conservative reactionaryism, just as irrational anti-Zionism from the far left regularly oozes into equally intolerant anti-Semitism from the opposite end of the ideological spectrum.
Meanwhile, too many American Jews continue to wallow in the type of selective outrage that only allows us to see those repulsive sentiments when they come from the other side of the aisle.
It’s easy for a loyal Democrat to denounce the blood-and-soil anti-Semitism on the far right. It’s just as painless for a loyal Republican to push back against the river-to-the-sea polemics of the extreme left. The challenge is for Jews of all ideological stripes to stand up to the intolerance inside of their own party – even when the haters agree with them on abortion or immigration or climate change policy.
Many credible pro-Israel organizations have demonstrated their willingness to take the fight to the base of their own parties. But only when many more Jews — on both the left and right — develop the same courage and are willing to confront the bigots within their own ranks will our enemies begin to retreat. But minimizing or rationalizing the behavior of anti-Semites because they vote for the same candidates as we do only guarantees that these indefensible sentiments will continue to flourish.
Dan Schnur is a Professor at the University of California – Berkeley, USC and Pepperdine. Join Dan for his weekly webinar “Politics in the Time of Coronavirus” (www/lawac.org) on Tuesdays at 5 PM.
I was stopped at the intersection of Wilshire and La Cienega one morning last week on my way to an appointment. It had been close to a year since I’d driven in the area, having moved out of Los Angeles in August of 2021. I was in a hurry. I hadn’t accounted for the traffic I’d hit coming from the house we’re renting for the month in Highland Park. After forty-five minutes of aggressive driving, unexpected construction obstacles, and navigation fails I was in a terrible mood.
But then I saw him.
As I waited impatiently for the light to turn green, giving me permission to step on the gas and join the throng of other aggressive drivers, I sensed movement in my peripheral vision. And there he was: a young Orthodox Jewish teenager on a skateboard, zipping through the crosswalk with tzitzit flying in the breeze, one hand on his kippah, the other out for balance as the skateboard lurched forward. The light turned green, but I waited until he had disappeared from my view before I put my foot to the gas.
Everything stopped for me in that moment, as if an arrow had found its mark.
If you live in LA, you probably see these kinds of images all the time. Maybe you see them so often that you don’t even see them anymore. I know that’s how I was when I lived here. I took the pervasiveness of all kinds of Jews for granted. Even the notorious crush of ultra-Orthodox Jews walking around during Shabbat on Friday evening alongside the packs of LA twenty-somethings out for an evening of booze and cigarettes on Fairfax—an unlikely juxtaposition that thrilled and amazed me when I first moved to LA in 2008—became so common I hardly noticed it 13 years later. The challah in every grocery store, the countless kosher restaurants, the abundance of kippot and shtreimels, the knowledge that I could visit a different shul every Shabbat and still not see them all in a year’s time—all of it became like background noise to me.
If you want to find Jews in Florence, where I live, you have to search for them.
But then I left. I now live in Italy, where you can bet I’ll never see an Orthodox Jewish teenager flying across the intersection on his skateboard while trying to keep his kippah from flying off. Don’t get me wrong: I love where I live. It’s magical in so many ways. It’s old and peaceful and the wine is delicious and cheap. But it doesn’t have that LA Jewish magic. Sure, of course there are Jews in Italy (starting with Chabad!). But there’s no visible Jewish presence other than an historic synagogue here and there or the random gold-plated stones commemorating Italian Jewish victims of the Holocaust. If you want to find Jews in Florence, where I live, you have to search for them. A few months ago when we were visiting the city of Verona, we spotted a tourist wearing a kippah. I shook my son’s shoulder and pointed at the man, “Look! Look! They’re Jewish!”
Being Jewish in LA is unremarkable. But for me, now a visitor to the city that used to be mine, bearing witness to these Jewish moments makes me feel like the recipient of a mitzvah.
Being Jewish in LA is unremarkable. But for me, now a visitor to the city that used to be mine, bearing witness to these Jewish moments makes me feel like the recipient of a mitzvah. Maybe we don’t always realize it, but perhaps simply being visibly Jewish out in the world is itself a mitzvah.
And speaking of mitzvahs, I’ll tell you one more story about something that happened to me since I’ve been in LA. A week ago I was with some of my family members at a restaurant in Beverly Hills. My youngest brother Nick, who had just come back to LA from a job in Japan, was telling us about a “fortune” he received at a temple he visited. It was a long and detailed fortune and he read it to us from a photo on his phone. There was no mention of prosperity or meeting someone wonderful. It was, instead, a dark and ominous fortune that predicted my brother would lose everything, a family business would fail, a sick loved one would not recover, and so on. Fortunately the Japanese temple offered a solution to receiving a bad fortune. It involved tying it to some kind of hanger and making sure not to take the paper fortune out of the temple. We all laughed, even though we were a little disturbed.
We were not, it turns out, the only ones who were disturbed. Suddenly the man dining at the table next to us interrupted our laughter and said, “Excuse me, but I would like you guys to leave. I will pay you $1000 to go to another restaurant on the other side of town.” We all went silent. I watched the man’s face, trying to determine why he was upset. Had we been too loud? My mom had her service dog under the table—was that the problem? But then he continued, “Because I overheard his fortune and don’t want any of that bad juju near me.” A split second and then he cracked a smile and we realized he was joking, and insisted on buying a round of drinks for our entire table. We all laughed again and said to my brother, “See? Your fortune is already turning around for the better.”
Before he left, the man at the table next to us turned once again to our table as we thanked him again for the drinks. “You know,” he said, as he pulled out his wallet and started removing five-dollar bills, “in my culture there is something called a mitzvah.” I laughed with delight and told him that my husband, son and I are Jewish. He smiled and continued. I watched as he took each bill and folded it into a unique triangular shape. He told us about the sacred obligation to perform mitzvahs, good deeds. He gave each of us a triangular bill and asked us to do the mitzvah of charity with it.
I wonder if he realized that simply being outspokenly Jewish in that moment was a mitzvah in itself. But it was. It was a mitzvah because it lit up my own Jewish identity, and reminded me of how special it is to be in a place like LA where we have the luxury of taking those things for granted.
Monica Osborne is a former professor of literature, critical theory, and Jewish studies. She is Editor-at-Large at The Jewish Journal and is author of “The Midrashic Impulse.”
