While walking around his Pico-Robertson neighborhood, artist James Alfie noticed a mural on the side of Factor’s Famous Deli. While he admired the art, he noticed that it had been marred by graffiti.
“It absolutely killed me to see the mural destroyed and, more importantly, really upset me to see how that graffiti made our neighborhood look bad,” he said.
Alfie decided to take action: he spoke to the owners of Factor’s and offered to create a new mural, free of charge.
“I thought it would be great to create something that people could walk by and show their kids.” – James Alfie
“I wanted to create something nice for the people that live there,” he said. “There is a lot of foot traffic in this neighborhood. Families walk to and from synagogue all week. I thought it would be great to create something that people could walk by and show their kids.”
Factor’s agreed, and Alfie set out to make a mural that was colorful, playful and incorporated silly characters. He ended up spray painting just that, and putting “Factor’s Deli” in big bubbly letters alongside a cartoony hamburger and a hot dog.
“It was really rewarding to have people tell me that they love walking past the mural and it makes them smile,” he said.
Alfie was motivated to create the mural because he wanted to celebrate the tradition of Jewish delis while beautifying his community at the same time.
“I have always enjoyed being in neighborhoods that have murals that embody what that community is about,” he said. “The Jewish community has always been focused on food.People go to each other’s houses to break bread, share stories and spend time with their family. The deli in our community is important because it has all the treats that we all grew up with.”
Alfie was raised in a Jewish part of London, where he went to a Jewish nursery school, attended synagogue services and had a bar mitzvah. He’s been an artist his whole life, and it’s not something he chose to do. Rather, he felt he was wired to do it.
“I have been doing art ever since I was able to pick up a pencil,” he said. “Art has always been something that I have gravitated to and has always been something that came quite naturally to me.”
Photo by Saul Blinkoff.
As a child, Alfie would watch animated movies and draw his own characters, and when he was 13, he discovered spray paint. In London, the city’s buildings and train stations were covered with graffiti.
“I was obsessed with painting big and trying to get my art up on walls,” he said. “There is nothing like using spray paint… Painting with spray paint is more of an experience than any other medium. You have to use your whole body when painting, and you get to paint outside. The smell of the paints surrounding you is part of the experience.”
The artist spent much of his time in high school drawing on every surface in the art department.
The artist spent much of his time in high school drawing on every surface in the art department, and when he graduated, he came to Los Angeles to attend Otis College of Art and Design.
Along with the mural in Pico-Robertson, he also makes real and digital paintings and pictures books in his signature colorful style. His next project is also a Jewish one.
“Passover is my favorite Jewish holiday, and so creating a Passover picture book has been on my mind for some time,” he said. “[It’ll be] something that’s very playful and funny.”
The picture book will help Alfie to live out his dream, which is to leave a positive impact on the world through his art.
“My ultimate goal is to leave behind a body of work that best explains the way I see and navigate the world, and to create art that makes people happy and want to have fun,” he said. “I want to use my art to tell funny and silly stories. I write books about socks, toast, space, jam and creatures that don’t fit in. The world we live in, especially now, seems to be getting more divisive, angry and dangerous. I want to use my art to create the absolute opposite.”
On Monday, an Israeli minister likened the chiefs of Israel’s security forces to the Wagner group. She did it, because they “issued a joint statement about Jewish nationalist terrorism.”Minister Orit Struck asked: “Who do you think you are? The Wagner Group?,” referring to the Russian mercenaries. “Who are you to issue such a message under the government’s nose?”
Struck got angry twice. Once because the announcement came out “under the nose” of the government, and once because it had used the term “nationalist terrorism.” A little background: Following a deadly attack in which four Jews were killed last week, groups of settlers set fire to vehicles and homes and ripped up books at a mosque during rampages through several Palestinian towns. This is what Israel Defense Forces Chief Lt. Gen. Herzi Halevi, Shin Bet head Ronen Bar, and Police Commissioner Kobi Shabtai called “Jewish terrorism” in a joint statement.
Is it Jewish terrorism? I think it is, but that’s not the point I’d like to discuss here. What is interesting is a minister’s decision to direct such harsh criticism at what is supposedly the most sacred of Israel’s institutions — its security establishment. And it is interesting because it’s not the first time such a thing happened, but it is another brick in the cracking wall of support for these institutions.
There are leaders on the political right who believe that in a battle of image between them and the heads of the military, they can win; who believe that the popularity of the IDF doesn’t make such a blunt clash politically damaging for them.
In recent weeks there has been harsh criticism in right-wing circles of the Minister of Defense, the IDF Chief of Staff, the chief of Central Command, and the Commander of the Benjamin Brigade. So there are leaders on the political right who believe that in a battle of image between them and the heads of the military, they can win. There are leaders who believe that the popularity of the IDF doesn’t make such a blunt clash politically damaging for them.
This is not an entirely new phenomenon. We witnessed several times, including in the 2016 arrest and trial of Elor Azaria, a soldier convicted of manslaughter for killing a Palestinian attacker after he was already neutralized. In almost all cases the same pattern occurred: The IDF found itself insisting on enforcing its values, as the commanders understand them, in the face of a wave of criticism from those who treat these values with suspicion or contempt. In Azaria’s case, the critics argued that the IDF cared for a dead terrorist more than it did for its own soldier. In the current case of the riots, the critics argue that the IDF is more concerned with settlers’ actions than with the actions – killings – that prompted the riots.
When political leaders feel clashing with the heads of the security establishment is politically safe, or even beneficial, it means that they recognize vulnerability. Minister Struck assumes that she can hit the Chief of Staff and get away with it. She assumes the public (especially her supporters), will not see her attack as out of line. True, the IDF was and still is a body that enjoys a broad public support. But the politicians’ behavior demonstrates that times have changed. IDF immunity is not what it used to be.
Why? Three things happened:
The critics were able to create a mental separation between “soldiers,” with whom the people sympathize, and “commanders,” with whom the people — and especially some supporters of the hard right — sympathize less.
They were also able to alter the image of the army chiefs, and convince supporters that the chiefs’ values do not align with the values of the right. The fact that more than a few IDF leaders ended up as center-left politicians was very helpful to this process.
And then, there is the general decline in the status of all national institutions. Especially on the right, there is a growing suspicion of everything that reeks of “establishment.” The establishment is called “hegemonic,” described as a “Deep State,” or tagged as empowering the “elites.”
In more than one way, what is happening to the IDF is what happened to the Supreme Court. Yes, it is a slower and more measured process (partly because Supreme Court justices were less careful in handling their power). And yet, these are similarities that one can’t deny. Rightist critics say that IDF commanders make decisions without authority (under the nose of the cabinet); that they make decisions that hinder the government from realizing the will of the people; that these are decisions that express the ideological agenda of a handful of a non-elected professional. And what is the supposed solution? Replace them with our own people. And if you want to know what this means, just look at the current government: impressive professionalism is not it’s strong suit.
Something I wrote in Hebrew
The coalition decided to one-sidedly pass a bill that would outlaw the “reasonableness test” in judicial review of government or ministerial decisions. Is it such a big deal? Here’s what I wrote:
The coalition members decided it was worth risking real damage to make a marginal move. The opposition decided that it was worth risking real damage to prevent a marginal move. If one side were to say something along the lines of “the truth is, the whole thing with the reasonableness test is a bit silly, doesn’t matter much”; if the coalition were to say, “leave it, we’ll give it up”; if the opposition were to say, “leave it, we’ll let them have this” – in this case, it would be possible to ignore the cancellation of the reasonableness test. But since neither side will agree to drop the issue, there will be a great war.
A week’s numbers
In a dramatic week of the ongoing Netanyahu corruption trial, the public is still unconvinced that a plea bargain would be the easiest, fastest and best way out of a political-criminal mess.
A reader’s response:
Jill Allenberg asks: “How can we support Israel when settlers in the West Bank behave like our worst enemies?” Answer: I understand why you’d feel alienated by such reprehensible conduct. Just remember two things: 1. There’s context – the settlers are also afraid for their own lives. 2. You would not want to be judged by the actions of extremists in your own country.
Shmuel Rosner is senior political editor. For more analysis of Israeli and international politics, visit Rosner’s Domain at jewishjournal.com/rosnersdomain.
Images of Holocaust survivors typically fall into two categories. Either as emaciated former concentration camp victims, or as wise elders, lighting candles, tattooed numbers on an outstretched arm. It’s unlikely to conjure the image of lithe muscle men, or battle-hardened Uzi-toting fighters. In our desire to remember the past, we forget that those who survived lived their own remarkable lives too.
Sir Ben Helfgott
Sir Ben Helfgott, and Joshua Kaufman, both Holocaust survivors, died recently, days apart, on opposite sides of the globe. They had strikingly similar characteristics. Both had immense physical strength, but they were also gentle men who fought hard for humanity, leaving me to wonder how the world itself will survive without them.
It was not long after his bar mitzvah that lanky Hungarian teenager Joshua Kaufmann heard a sermon from his Hasidic Rabbi, warning of the dangers of Zionist youth movements. He was so intrigued that he sought out Hashomer Hatzair and began a secular Zionist adventure. There, he learned survival skills to prepare him for his aliyah to the Jewish homeland. He did not know how important those skills would be in the dark years of the Holocaust that lay ahead. He was the only one of his four siblings to survive.
In the town of Piotrokow-Trybunalski, Poland, diminutive 12-year-old Ben Helfgott had volunteered to work, under the pretense of being a Polish Catholic, in the heat of the Hurtownia glass factory. This way he was able to avoid harsher ghetto work and deportation. The facility was still in operation in the mid 1990’s when Ben and I stood watching glass being blown in the exact spot where he had once toiled to survive. It was no place for a starving Jewish child.
Joshua Kaufman in the Israeli Defense Forces
Joshua survived Auschwitz and Dachau, after which he made his way to Israeli in 1949 and volunteered for the Israeli Defense Forces.“I was married to the IDF” he says, saluting me, as if he was still there. Joshua served for over 20 years. Photos of the six-foot-tall soldier in the desert show his Uzi was always by his side. He was a warrior until the day he died.
Ben survived Buchenwald concentration camp and was liberated from Terezin on the last day of the war in Europe. He was one of 732 orphans who were taken to England for convalescence. Ben co-founded the UK Holocaust survivor association known as “The 45 Aid Society,” which he served as President for over seventy years. He also became an Olympic Weightlifter, lifting for England in Melbourne in 1956 and Rome in 1960.
I never quite understood how the undernourished child liberated from Terezin in May 1945 became a British champion weightlifter.
I never quite understood how the undernourished child liberated from Terezin in May 1945 became a British champion weightlifter, and captain of the British Olympic weightlifting team. What physical and mental resilience did that take?
Joshua Kaufman
Joshua left the IDF after the Yom Kippur War, visited his surviving father in Williamsburg then drove Route 66 to see America. Once in Los Angeles he met his wife Margaret during his first Shabbat. A few weeks later they were married. Before long, they had four beautiful daughters. The fighter had turned into Tevye the Dairyman! “This is my bank account!” he said, pointing to a photo of his daughters on his sparse apartment wall. When I interviewed him for USC Shoah Foundation in 2017, he and three of his daughters sat with him, intertwined like a living Havdalah candle. A family shining with love, despite the hate he had endured. One of Joshua’s priceless lines was, “Stop the hateness!”He knew how to defeat hate with love.
Sir Ben Helfgott, Olympian, was my mentor, friend and part-time personal coach. At his home gym in London, he taught me how to do an effective daily 20 minute fitness routine. “Look after your body, it’s all you’ve got,” he would chide me while doing 100 press ups, well into his 80’s. To this day, I feel guilty when I don’t exercise in the morning.Ben is watching.
Their real power came from the many small things they did behind closed doors. The source of their spiritual strength, which was every bit as strong as their physical feats, was their families.
Sir Ben and Joshua, the strong man and the warrior, had a profound impact on their communities. But their real power came from the many small things they did behind closed doors. The source of their spiritual strength, which was every bit as strong as their physical feats, was their families.
We have seen the images of Holocaust survivors as surviving victims. We have come to listen to them as wise and insightful elders. But let’s not forget that for many decades they were alone in their struggle, strong men and women, who replaced their lost families with loving homes.Not only do they overcome their past, they helped shape our future.
On a recent night I passed by Holocaust Museum LA where Joshua’s twelve foot image hangs on a poster facing Pan Pacific Park. Joshua stands tall, his arm raised with a clenched fist. His words on the poster read: “WE SHOULD ONLY LOVE ONE ANOTHER, DON’T HATE!”
I stood beneath the giant of a man, and I raised my fist too.
Stephen D. Smith is CEO of StoryFile and Executive Director Emeritus at USC Shoah Foundation.
This is the third in a series of tributes to my former teachers in America.
When I first came to the United States, I spoke nine words in English: “My name is [first/last name]” and “Where is the bathroom?”
I got along fairly well in first grade and learned hundreds more words, mostly from television, But in second grade, there was one word that seemed impossibly beyond reach to understand and enunciate: indivisible.
I belong to the glorious generation that was taught by the legendary Beverly Hills elementary school teacher, Gloria (Zemliak) Boraz. For over four decades, Mrs. Boraz taught young children everything from reading to writing and math, but she was especially known for dedicating the whole academic year to learning about the 50 American states.
For some time, many students in Mrs. Boraz’s class at Horace Mann Elementary and Middle School were middle-class Ashkenazim whose parents resided in modest homes in Beverly Hills so that they could benefit from the exemplary public schools.
Suddenly, half of Mrs. Boraz’s second grade class had unpronounceable Persian names, olive skin, dark hair, and even darker mustaches. One of those mustaches belonged to me.
But that all changed in the 1980s and early 1990s, when the Iranian revolution forced over 90% of the country’s Jews to escape and be resettled elsewhere. Suddenly, half of Mrs. Boraz’s second grade class had unpronounceable Persian names, olive skin, dark hair and even darker mustaches. One of those mustaches belonged to me.
I had spent most of first grade learning about American culture, as I wrote in an August 2022 column titled “The Teddy Bears of Redemption,” which offered gratitude to my first grade teacher, Mrs. Sadlier. But anyone who was ever blessed enough to have had Mrs. Boraz as a second grade teacher can attest that one walked out of her classroom on the last day of school with an encyclopedic knowledge of U.S. geography, natural resources and state mottos, flags and birds (For those born after 1999, encyclopedias were thick, unbiased, paper-versions of search engines. And they had pretty pictures, too.).
Mrs. Boraz hung a giant map of the U.S. which took up the entire wall at the back of her classroom. At first, I struggled to understand the concept of one country, divided into 50 states. Back in Iran, I had experienced one country, with 50 different ways to prepare Persian rice.
Given that I came to the U.S. in first grade, I understood that faculty and students would be more sympathetic to my language and cultural limitations that year. But I anticipated that by second grade, a lot more would be expected of me. When I stepped into Mrs. Boraz’s class and met whom I quickly understood to be a deeply experienced educator, I knew I was right.
It wasn’t long before the class began our “states projects.” Each year, Mrs. Boraz’s second graders were assigned individual American states to research. She was inclined to assign a greater number of states to kids who were more advanced readers and writers. That explained why one brilliant peer was assigned a whopping five states: Oregon, Idaho, Rhode Island, Delaware and most coveted of all, California, plus Washington, D.C. The only reason why I remember Natalie’s states from our second grade Class of 1991 is because I still have a laminated U.S. map in the form of a placemat that Mrs. Boraz gave each of us on the last day of school.
In Iran, I had worked so hard to be at the top of my class. But in America, I was plagued by self-doubt on every level, including academically. In my mind, I was still a high-achieving student, but I recoiled at how my teachers and peers may have perceived me.
That’s why it meant the world to me when Mrs. Boraz assigned me three wonderful, validating states: Alaska, South Dakota and Tennessee. She gave each student a set of topics to research about our states, and I happily ran to the library and begged our beloved librarian, Mrs. Marshak, who has since passed, to help me find the “A,” “S” and “T”volumes of the encyclopedia.
To this day, I still have a soft spot for those states, none of which I’ve had time to visit.
I still remember Alaska’s nickname, capital and state flower: The Last Frontier, Juneau and forget-me-not. I didn’t understand why anyone would name a flower “forget-me-not”; it seemed like too much pressure to put on a person or a flower.
I also remember South Dakota’s capital, state bird and most famous national monument: Pierre, the ring-necked pheasant and Mount Rushmore. I wondered why the capital sounded French (thanks to Alliance Israélite Universelle schools in Iran, both my mother and grandmother had taught me a little French). When I saw my first glimpse of Mount Rushmore in the encyclopedia, I was so impressed by the Americans and their sculpting prowess. The heads of those presidents on all that granite seemed much more expensive than the face of Ayatollah Khomeini that was plastered on cheap posters and billboards back in Tehran.
Tennessee brought me particular joy because I knew that if I could spell that treacherous word, I had truly learned how to read in English. Thanks to Mrs. Boraz, I was able to learn a little about Nashville and Memphis, and my love for rock ‘n’ roll has never waned.
Tennessee brought me particular joy because I knew that if I could spell that treacherous word, I had truly learned how to read in English. Thanks to Mrs. Boraz, I was able to learn a little about Nashville and Memphis, and my love for rock ‘n’ roll has never waned.
For me, Mrs. Boraz was a unique educator for two reasons: She was caring, but not overly permissive, and, being in her early 60s, she was a little older than some of the other teachers. Back then, being an older teacher wasn’t a liability; in the eyes of 30 little second graders, it made you a trusted, dare I say even definitive, expert.
In hindsight, that entire year was dedicated to all things America. We even began each morning with a series of songs about this country, all of which I learned in a few weeks. I’m referring not only to the national anthem, but also to a host of other songs, including “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee.” Can you guess if I understood what “tis of thee” meant? I think we both know the answer. And “Indivisible” evaded me whenever it was time to recite the Pledge of Allegiance.
Amazingly, Mrs. Boraz accompanied each song by playing an autoharp, also known as a chord zither. Back then, I didn’t know what an autoharp was. But it was magical because Mrs. Boraz was playing it.
She gave each student an old cigar box to decorate and use as a pencil box for the whole year. I always wondered from where she secured 30 cigar boxes; she didn’t seem like much of a cigar smoker. And this was the early 1990s, when parents didn’t seem to have an issue with their kids happily using a cigar box.
I had so many questions about my beloved Mrs. Boraz, and luckily, a few months ago, I saw a Facebook post from Horace Mann alumnus Steven Fenton that showed a selfie of him with Mrs. Boraz! Steven wrote that she was in her 90s, still living in Beverly Hills and loved connecting with former students.
I knew what I had to do. I found my three state projects, dusted them off, and, on Facebook, found one of Mrs. Boraz’s three daughters, Nancy Boraz Friedman, who had been my sixth-grade English teacher at Horace Mann.
We set up a day and time for me to visit Mrs. Boraz. I, too, would get to see her after decades, and to have my selfie with her. I planned to hold my three states in the photo, the glitter on their titles still sparkling.
But work deadlines and family commitments forced me to cancel that visit. I thought I would have more time to see Mrs. Boraz because in Steven’s Facebook post, she looked so spry and vibrant.
And then, in May, Gloria Boraz passed away.
During a phone call last week, Nancy told me that her mother “took a really bad turn very fast.” She passed away on May 21 at age 94. “She would absolutely have loved this,” Nancy said. “She would have loved that a former student would have written a column about her in the Jewish Journal.”
Beverly Hills Historical Society via Facebook
I held back tears as I told Nancy that I still know all 50 states and their capitals. She wasn’t surprised. “Every kid who had my mom in second grade remembers their state,” she said, then asked, “What were your states?”
Alaska, South Dakota and Tennessee.
I realize how much she impacted my love of this country. Thanks to her, I felt I knew America. And to know America is to love America.
I’ll never forgive myself for not prioritizing that visit with Mrs. Boraz. But now, I realize how much she impacted my love of this country. Thanks to her, I felt I knew America. And to know America is to love America.
All three of Mrs. Boraz’s daughters, Barbie, Leslie and Nancy became teachers, which tells you something about their mother’s love and talent for teaching. “Mom was extremely proud of that,” Nancy said, adding that her mother “loved being around children because they were honest.”
I asked her if Mrs. Boraz felt connected with being Jewish. “My mother loved being Jewish and loved not only the traditions and holidays, but also had a very strong faith in G-d,” she said. The family attended Temple Emanuel in Beverly Hills and “always had Shabbat,” said Nancy. Mrs. Boraz delighted in lighting candles and preparing Shabbat every Friday night. In recent years, as she got older, Nancy always brought her challah.
When you’re a kid, it’s hard to realize that your teachers are unique individuals with their own life stories. Nancy told me that Mrs. Boraz was born in St. Louis, MO. She married Martin Boraz and the couple had Barbie, Leslie and Nancy in the same city.
The family then moved to Chicago. After some time, Martin received a job opportunity in California, in what Nancy described as a “big move” for the family. They moved to Beverly Hills to take advantage of the excellent public schools. Mrs. Boraz was a “a very active parent” at school — so active that an administrator offered to hire her if she received her teaching credentials.
Martin passed in 1984 and Mrs. Boraz was blessed with three subsequent loves: Izzy, Bob and Stan.
“Mrs. Boraz had the ability to connect with her students and she made learning fun. This combination was unique because she was dealing with seven-year-olds,” Steven told me. He was in her second grade class in 1977-78. “I think the only reason why I remember the second grade so vividly is because her presence was that large. She deftly commanded the room while also laying down the law with a smile. And she really helped me understand boundaries.”
Mrs. Boraz helped me understand boundaries, too. Maybe boundaries come with the territory when you spend nine months learning about 50 American states.
Sometimes, when I’m struggling with brain fog after a day that has depleted me mentally and physically, I cuddle close to my son as he lies asleep in bed and stare at a big map of America on the wall of his room. Some people prefer crossword puzzles or Sudoku to help keep their memory and executive functioning intact; I simply gaze at each state, its name indiscernible in the dark, and try to name each one and its capital. In an age when many Americans can’t even identify more than a few states on a map, it’s quite a feat. I still know 98 U.S. states and capitals, because I keep mixing up Concord in Vermont with Montpelier in New Hampshire.
I still deeply wish I had been able to spend time with Mrs. Boraz. But at least Nancy helped me solve another puzzle about her wonderful mother: The teachers were supposed to supply their students with pencil boxes. So each year, Mrs. Boraz visited a cigar shop on Beverly Drive and asked the owner to save her three dozen empty cigar boxes.
As for that autoharp, Nancy told me it’s still there, in Mrs. Boraz’s house.
In contemplating this column, I came to a powerful realization: Mrs. Boraz was my first introduction to learning about America in a classroom setting. I’m so blessed that, unlike many educators today, she didn’t ruin that incredibly critical experience for me by poisoning her students’ minds and hearts with a year’s worth of bashing America over its mistakes. While this is comforting to me, the thought that child refugees from around the world who arrive here today may receive their first academic introduction to America by teachers and curriculum that paint this country as unforgivably bad breaks my heart into a thousand pieces.
My love for the United States enables space for critique. But at the end of the day, that love is wholly indivisible from everything else.
See, my dear Mrs. Boraz, z”l? I finally learned the meaning of that word.
Happy Fourth of July.
Tabby Refael is an award-winning writer, speaker and weekly columnist for the Jewish Journal of greater Los Angeles. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram @TabbyRefael
A political trivia test for you: without using a search engine, can you name the five Jewish candidates for president in the 2020 election?
The answer is at the bottom of this column, but first let’s discuss why that question may be relevant to the upcoming campaign.
Joe Biden has repeatedly made it clear that he intends to seek reelection. But poll numbers showing pronounced voter discomfort with a man of his age seeking another term — and the actuarial realities that confront even the healthiest octogenarians — have led to ongoing speculation of where the Democrats would turn if the president were to step aside. There is considerable nervousness in Democratic circles about Vice President Kamala Harris’ viability as a candidate, leading to a frenzy (albeit a quiet one) about other possible alternatives.
Those in California hear the name of our governor, Gavin Newsom, batted about fairly regularly. While Newsom has been emphatic that he would not challenge Biden, his heightened national profile would make him a likely contender. But voters in early primary states like South Carolina and Nevada are cut from very different ideological cloth than progressive Californians, so many party strategists look to the Rust Belt for potential candidates who have demonstrated an ability to win the type of working-class voters in contested elections that keyed Biden’s victory.
Over the last few months, the name of Josh Shapiro, the newly elected governor of Pennsylvania, has emerged with even greater frequency.
Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer has received a great deal of attention as a plausible successor, but over the last few months, the name of Josh Shapiro, the newly elected Democratic governor of Pennsylvania, has emerged with even greater frequency. If Shapiro did become president, whether next year or further in the future, he would of course be the nation’s first Jewish president. While several other Jewish politicians have sought the Oval Office, none have ever received their party’s nomination. (Barry Goldwater’s father was Jewish, but he was raised Episcopalian.)
Shapiro has been in office for less than six months, so it’s extremely premature to already be speculating about his prospects for a promotion to national office. But if Biden chose not to seek a second term (or four years from now if Biden does continue in this campaign), the Pennsylvania governor would enter the race not as an Arlen Spector also-ran or as a Joe Lieberman improbability — or even a Bernie Sanders-esque movement candidate — but as a genuine odds-on favorite (or co-favorite) in a way that no Jewish politician has ever achieved.
In an era of resurgent antisemitism, it’s only natural to wonder what sort of hatreds and resentments would emerge as Shapiro campaigned across the country. It may be worth looking for guidance to the examples of the three Catholics who achieved their party’s presidential nod and the changes that occurred in terms of religious intolerance over the years bridging their respective campaigns.
When Democratic New York Governor Al Smith sought the presidency in 1928, he faced massive amounts of ugly anti-Catholic bigotry, up to and including Ku Klux Klan cross-burnings. Before John F. Kennedy was elected in 1960, he was forced to deliver a speech to several hundred of the nation’s most prominent Protestant ministers to assure them that his allegiance would be to the United States rather than the Vatican. By the time Biden ran three years ago, his Catholicism was barely noted in the campaign except occasionally in the context of his views on abortion policy.
While it’s unlikely that Shapiro would encounter the widespread prejudice that Smith endured, it would be fanciful to assume – or even hope – that his religion would be the same type of incidental footnote that it has been for Biden. Shapiro is a long way from earning Kennedy comparisons, but he (or another Jewish political leader who achieves that milestone), would almost certainly need to confront questions about his religious beliefs in an unprecedented way. But such is the challenge that comes with being a trailblazer.
(The five Jews who ran last time were Michael Bennet, Michael Bloomberg, Bernie Sanders, Tom Steyer, and Marianne Williamson. Kudos to those who were able to answer without using Google or Bing.)
Dan Schnur is the U.S. Politics Editor for the Jewish Journal. He teaches courses in politics, communications, and leadership at UC Berkeley, USC and Pepperdine. He hosts the monthly webinar “The Dan Schnur Political Report” for the Los Angeles World Affairs Council & Town Hall. Follow Dan’s work at www.danschnurpolitics.com
July Fourth long made me uncomfortable with my Jewish heritage and its connection to Israel. I wondered how the notions of Zionism and Jewish solidarity I was raised with fit in with my American identity.
Ever since childhood, I have revered the ideals of freedom, justice and equality expressed in our Declaration of Independence. Although we are far from the “more perfect union” envisioned by the Constitution, seeing the Stars and Stripes flapping in the wind evokes the sense of playing a role in Lincoln’s “last best hope of earth.”
Israel’s flag also stirs my emotions. Earlier this year while visiting my wife’s Israeli family, I saw thousands of people waving blue-and-white flags while protesting their far-right government. The crowd’s love of country was palpable. The sea of flags elicited pride in the vision of Zionism that the flag wavers and I shared. That vision, of a nation promising “complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, sex or race,” was articulated in giant copies of Israel’s Declaration of Independence that protestors signed during the rallies.
I visit my Israeli relatives often. Once a group of cousins, knowing I had written opinion pieces about Israel, approached me over lunch.
“When you go back home you have to tell them what we face here,” one cousin insisted.
“Tell them about how I work in hospitals with Arab doctors,” another said.
“Tell them about the terrorism,” someone added.
I mumbled something about trying to be an even-handed reporter. They were active in organizations that criticized their government’s restrictive refugee policy and campaigned for politicians that opposed the West Bank settlements. Yet they were desperate to have their country bathed in a positive light.
My cousins’ sensitivity towards portrayals of their country reflects a sense of unity that comes with being a Jew in the Jewish State. America has no equivalent bonding agent.
As Michael Walzer notes in his book “The Struggle For A Decent Politics,” American patriotism revolves around universal ideals of democracy and justice, which has encouraged us to export those ideals abroad. But our notion of nationalism revolves around multiculturalism — the hyperawareness of race, religion, ethnicity, and sexual orientationthat define our identities.
Regarding myself as a Jewish-American has allowed me to find my space within the American landscape. I regularly attend a Conservative synagogue, send my daughter to a Jewish day school, and am active in Zionist organizations. Expressing my religious heritage corresponds with my bedrock belief that respect for minorities is an ethical imperative, necessary to complete the unfinished American project.
My connection to Israel rests both on family and the tribalism that ties me to the Promised Land. I also grew up with the belief that Jews have a natural connection with each other. But a shared religious heritage is no guarantee of a shared worldview.
Most of my Israeli relatives speak excellent English and echo my disgust with the occupation. But our commonality has limits.
One time I debated a cousin about Israel’s bombing of Gaza. I saw it as unduly harsh, while he found it justifiable.
“We see ourselves as being on the defensive,” he explained, placing his hands as if to shield his face. “We are always on alert.”
The sense of danger my relatives live with was encapsulated for me during a video-call. Hamas was attacking Israel.
“We hear missiles buzzing over our house,” my sister-in-law said.
“We haven’t slept in days,” my brother-in-law added.
They were visibly exhausted and uncharacteristically frazzled. This, I realized, is what it is like to be Israeli.
My younger relatives are proud of their IDF service. Their sense that Israel is under siege acts as a glue that I have no reference for. Despite my unfamiliarity with living in a society intertwined by religion and military service, Israel has added a previously untapped dimension to my religious identity.
In Jerusalem or Tel Aviv I feel a lightness that is unobtainable in New York. I shed the weight of America’s historical complexities and ethnic rivalries, and exist just as a Jew.
In Jerusalem or Tel Aviv I feel a lightness that is unobtainable in New York. I shed the weight of America’s historical complexities and ethnic rivalries, and exist just as a Jew.
Yet if I were to become an Israeli, rather than just a Jewish visitor, I would have to navigate a social code where religion, ethnicity, history and national identity play a far different role than they do in the United States.
In America I know my place in the cultural landscape. I can translate the relationships between races, and political loyalties into a language I speak. None of this translation is possible for me in Israel.
At my core I am an American, specifically a Jewish-American. By encouraging my hyphenated identity, my country has helped facilitate my attachment to Zionism, even as I have come to realize how much I differ from Israelis.
Ben Krull’s work has appeared in The New York Times, Washington Post, New York Daily News and other publications.
Marla and Libby are back this week and this time they’re making major headlines! The Schmuckgirls are thrilled to announce that they are now under the distribution of the Jewish Journal! They are extremely excited for their new partnership and everything to come but it’s still business as usual.
Libby shares about fun upcoming cruise plans with Jack, Marla decides to keep her dating life more on the down-low and both girls share about fun upcoming events in NYC and LA.
Their guest this week in their final installment of Jewish Matchmaking interviews (for now), is the one and only Aleeza Ben Shalom! Aleeza shares how she got cast as the Jewish Matchmaker and her thoughts before and while filming. She also talks about how she got into matchmaking in the first place and how it has always come naturally to her.
The girls discuss potential problems that arise when matchmaking and how Aleeza deals with it and how matchmaking for TV added another layer of difficulty. She also shares fun and meaningful experiences that audiences didn’t see on Netflix.
The girls end with a game of “Trust Your Doubt or Go Out” and put Aleeza to the test to see what she would consider to be dealbreakers.
Listen to the podcast on Apple, Spotify, and anywhere else you consume your podcasts.
If you go to Webster’s Dictionary, you won’t find a definition for the word “Schmuckboys.” But that’s the name of a humorous and insightful podcast about Jewish dating.
The phrase, coined by Libby Walker when she heard a song of a similar, unprintable name, refers to a guy who is emotionally unavailable, dates many different women and has no desire to get into a serious relationship. Walker, who along with co-host Marla Friedson gets under the hood to find out how the engine of Jewish dating runs, said she hopes the episodes help people. “Schmuckboys,” now under the Journal’s podcast umbrella, doesn’t try to rain on anyone’s parade, but provides good advice and encourages Jewish singles to take accountability.
Walker, who posts comedic videos where she plays Sheryl Cohen a Jewish mom, has more than 50,000 TikTok followers and her videos have received 2.9 million likes. She said some would be afraid to start a Jewish dating podcast, either due to lack of knowledge or a concern it might hurt their chances of finding their soulmate. Walker said she wanted to normalize that “Jewish dating is not easy but everyone has their own journey.”
The Manhattan resident, who has a boyfriend, said there are a number of issues Jewish daters face. “I think the biggest problem is communication, people overanalyze things and are afraid to ask if the relationship is exclusive or not,” Walker told the Journal. Another factor is parents, who at every simcha will ask singles what is wrong with them, why they are not married, and sometimes tell them they are too picky.
“Obviously parents want the best for their children,” Walker said. “I think they just don’t realize the pressure they sometimes cause can be really stressful to their kids, who will get into relationships because they feel like they have to.”
Friedson recently moved from New York to Los Angeles, working as an Associate Producer in TV by day and editing the podcast by night. She also often uses her online platform to share and discuss issues related to fighting antisemitism. The Schmuckboys duo now being bi-coastal has helped them expand their audience and guests. Friedson, who is single, said one big piece of advice is a tough pill to swallow. “Don’t take rejection too personally,” she told the Journal. “I’ve gone out with guys who are genuinely great guys and there was nothing wrong with them, but they just didn’t match my vibe.”
Asked if it’s true or a myth that Jewish women like a guy with a good sense of humor, she said in her case it is true and she believes also for others. “We’ve been through so much trauma in our history that we can’t help but joke around,” she said. “It’s one of the most important things to me.”
Jewish comedian Eric Neumann was a guest on a recent show. He said he has never been on a dating app and is in a relationship with another comic. Neumann, who has appeared on “The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon” told Walker and Friedson “I always went for it,” when asking women out so he experienced more rejection than other guys. He was unsuccessful in an attempt to score a date with a woman he met when he went to get his COVID vaccine.
San Diego resident Aaron Raimi and Los Angeles resident Daniel Ebrahimi, co-founders of MeetJew, an online group with more than 60,000 members created during the pandemic that is helping to make Jewish matches, also appeared on the podcast. They advised people for a first message to keep it lighthearted and be humorous to stand out and played “Cute or Cringe.” Flowers on a first date and a date eating the other person’s food on a date, both got a “Cringe” from Raimi and Ebrahimi.
Actor Jonah Platt spoke about how his girlfriend (and now wife) converted to Judaism. “I felt like a lot of Jewish people were afraid to confront the anti-Israel, anti-Jewish stuff that was out there,” he said, adding that it’s often either because they weren’t educated enough or a fear of supporting Israel would hurt their careers.
Talia Lichtstein, a blunt-talking New Yorker who has more than 1.1 million TikTok followers, told Walker and Friedson that she used to be someone who “cared a lot about how I was perceived,” adding that some said she would not be able to get a large social media following and they were wrong. Some men she dates are afraid she will mention them specifically, but she uses nicknames and in no way identifies them in a way people could recognize it’s them. She still asks for permission to tell stories.
She added that people often film without permission. ‘You could get caught picking your nose on the subway and it’s viral the next day,” Lichtstein said. Her time at Camp Hess Kramer in Malibu helped give her a sense of Jewish pride. She said those who are Jewish and have a large social media platform should not only address antisemitism but speak about Judaism’s positive aspects. “Say you love being Jewish,” she said.
Kevin Nahai, a life coach who focuses on dating and relationships, was an especially intriguing guest. He explained that coming from a Persian Jewish family, there are certain expectations and a life coach might be out of the norm, but he worked hard to be good at his job. He said his clients complain of ghosting or being used for sex or unrealistic expectations. A problem he sees is people picking the wrong partners who don’t treat them well. “When you don’t treat yourself with self-respect, then you allow other people to treat you poorly, you allow your time to be wasted, you have standards in your head that you don’t actually live by, so then you feel anxious and you feel ashamed, you behave in ways that you wouldn’t encourage your best friend, or your sister or your brother to behave in, you let other people take advantage of, you, and a whole bunch of issue ensue.” As for those who say Persian Jews will only marry Persian Jews or Syrian Jews will only marry Syrian Jews, he said as long as families understand each other, it can work.
Both hosts said their dream guest would be Adam Sandler because he is talented and humble.
Walker, who has worked at Camp Ramah in Nyack and in the Berkshires, said she’s already gotten positive feedback on how there was a need for a show that tackles Jewish dating. “Marla and I are really passionate about giving people good advice and addressing issues they are thinking about and also giving them a show that is entertaining to listen to,” Walker said. “I like to be funny, but on a serious level, we want to help people live their best lives and have the best relationships they can.”
Faith Kramer loves the experience of cooking with others, as well as sharing meals.
“We all enjoy eating,” Kramer, author of “52 Shabbats: Friday Night Dinners Inspired by a Global Jewish Kitchen,” told the Journal. “You layer on the Jewish food symbolism and food history, and it becomes a very important event.”
According to Kramer, there are different ways to share the responsibilities and joys of preparing a meal. You can have a potluck, where everyone brings a different dish, or you can do a cooking session.
“I’ve had people come over to make the challah before dinner, and everyone’s braiding or making the shapes they want,” she said.
When Kramer recently visited friends in Arizona, their grandchildren, ages three and six, helped her make meatballs.
“It was incredible,” she said. “The 3 year old was the best little meatball maker I have ever seen. Each one was perfect, each one was done with love. And then, when we had those meatballs, he had such a sense of pride.”
While community cooking is great for those who want to learn, it’s also an asset for those recipes where you need another set of hands. Kramer’s Fruit and Salad Rolls is one such recipe. She uses fresh rice paper and they have two dipping sauces: tahini pomegranate molasses and an Asian peanut sauce.
“Wrapping those for a crowd can be really hard,” she said. “So why not have everybody prepping their rice paper, filling it and rolling it together.”
Everyone would have a beautiful bonding experience and a wonderful sense of a shared accomplishment.
The recipes in “52 Shabbats” are the same food Kramer serves her friends and family.
“Some of it is Ashkenazi, Eastern European,” she said. “Some of it is very American. Some of it is informed by the travels I’ve taken all over the world.”
Kramer’s late mother-in-law always served a fruit compote for Friday night dinners, holiday dinners and family get-togethers.
“She put Tang on her fruit compote, so it wasn’t like my favorite part of the meal,” Kramer said.
When Kramer was at a night market in Thailand, and saw a woman make fruit rolls with a little bit of lettuce, she saw it as a version of fruit compote she would love to eat. It evolved into her Fruit and Salad Roll. Recipe is below.
For those who want to be better at cooking – and enjoying the experience or preparing food – Kramer says to cook often, read through recipes, so there are no surprises, and be sure to try new things.
“The more you educate your palate and the more you gain the muscle skills, the better and easier it will be to cook,” she said.
Her biggest tip: Don’t set yourself up to do too much, when preparing a meal, especially when you are entertaining.
“I talk about intention, and if your intention is to have a nice meal, whether it’s a Shabbat meal or not, you don’t necessarily have to make restaurant perfect food,” Kramer said.
That means you can make an easy green bean recipe, serve a rotisserie chicken and/or buy brownies for dessert.
“It’s still an occasion … if you outsource [some of the] elements or you do it as a potluck,” she said.
Your guests would rather have you relaxed, happy and joining them, than to have a perfect meal.
“I like people to look at the intention and not get caught up in perfection,” Kramer said.
Adapted from “52 Shabbats: Friday Night Dinners Inspired by a Global Jewish Kitchen” (The Collective Book Studio) by Faith Kramer
Photo by Clara Rice
Makes 4 rolls
My mother-in-law always started her dinners with a fruit salad. After a trip to Southeast Asia, I was inspired, and transformed her chopped fruit salad into these rolls wrapped in rice papers. The rolls make a great appetizer, starter, or side dish. If you’ve never worked with rice papers before, try practicing with one or two rice paper rounds first until you get the hang of it.
Make either or both dipping sauces. Extra sauces refrigerate well. Tahini-Pomegranate Dip is lovely on morning toast. Toss leftover Dipping Sauce with Peanuts with noodles for a quick Asian noodle dish.
Find pomegranate molasses online, in kosher, Middle Eastern or specialty markets and in some supermarkets. Look for the rice paper wrappers online, in Asian or specialty markets and in some supermarkets.
For the Rolls
1 large ripe banana
1 cup thinly sliced mango, divided
1 cup thinly sliced strawberries, divided
1 cup thinly sliced fresh pineapple spears, divided
1 cup chopped fresh mint, divided
4 (81/2-inch) round rice paper wrappers
3/4 cup packed chopped romaine lettuce
1/4 cup grated fresh or dried unsweetened coconut, optional
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil or Thai basil
For the Dipping Sauce with Peanuts
1 1/2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1/2 tablespoon vegetable oil
1/4 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
1/8 teaspoon Chinese chile garlic sauce or Sriracha sauce
1 1/2 teaspoons chopped green onions, white and green parts
2 tablespoons chopped roasted, salted, and skinless peanuts
For the Tahini-Pomegranate Molasses Dip
1/4 cup tahini
1 tablespoon plus 1/2 teaspoon pomegranate molasses
To Make the Rolls
Cut the banana crosswise, then cut each half into 4 long pieces. Set aside 1/4 cup each of the mango, strawberries, pineapple, and mint.
Fill a small bowl with lukewarm water. Place a rice wrapper on a clean work surface. Dip a pastry or basting brush into the water. Brush the wrapper from edge to edge with water until it is very wet. Flip over the wrapper and repeat. Let the wrapper rest for 30 seconds.
Starting 1 inch from the left-hand edge, spread out one-quarter of the mango on the rice wrapper from top to bottom and to just past the midpoint. Top with one quarter of the strawberries, 3 tablespoons of lettuce, 2 banana slices, one quarter of the pineapple, 1 tablespoon of coconut (if using), 3 tablespoons of mint, and 1 tablespoon of basil.
Pull the left side of the wrapper up and over the filling with one hand while using your other hand to compress the filling into a tight log as you roll the wrapper over it. Continue rolling until the wrapper has sealed on itself. Transfer the roll to a serving platter seam side down. Repeat with the remaining rice paper wrappers.
To Make the Dipping Sauce with Peanuts
In a small bowl, mix the vinegar, soy sauce, oil, ginger, and chile garlic sauce. Set aside. Stir in the green onions and peanuts just before serving.
To Make the Tahini-Pomegranate Molasses Dip
In a small bowl, mix the tahini and 1 tablespoon of pomegranate molasses. Set aside. Just before serving, drizzle the remaining 1/2 teaspoon of pomegranate molasses over the top and, using a dinner knife, swirl it through the dip so it looks marbleized.
To Serve
Finely dice the remaining fruit and scatter it over the rolls. Sprinkle it with the remaining mint. Serve with your choice of sauces on the side.
Debra Eckerling is a writer for the Jewish Journal and the host of “Taste Buds with Deb.” Subscribe on YouTube or your favorite podcast platform.Email Debra: tastebuds@jewishjournal.com.
There is a stealth civil war taking place within the American Jewish community. Don’t worry. Most American Jews don’t know about it and have no intention taking sides or firing a shot. Hearts and minds aren’t involved either. It’s more like a cold war of complacency.
The reason for the hedging of hostilities comes down to leadership. How shall I put this? Okay, well, American Jews have none. All that spectacular success, and no leaders to show for it, no discernible plan for the preservation of their people.
Who among them stands-up, unabashedly, to defend Jews? Israel grows gutsy sabras in abundance. In the United States, where crimes of hate mostly strike Jewish targets, and with violent antisemitism making a disquieting comeback, no one stands guard on the wall.
Sure, there are Jewish elected officials with political clout—senators, congresspersons, governors, and mayors. But they refuse to wield power on behalf of their own people. And they shirk any responsibility to speak for American Jewry in a declarative and unifying voice.
It’s not true of other American minorities. For instance, there is no Jewish equivalent of the Congressional Black Caucus. There’s not even a Jewish clique. Most elected Jewish officials would blanch at such a parochial endeavor. Good luck getting them to even sign a letter calling out violence against Hasidic Jews, or censuring a member of the Squad for gleefully launching an antisemitic trope.
In this political culture, it’s too fraught with risk. One false step, and accusations of racism or Islamophobia fly. Best to feign laryngitis or claim to be without a nearby pen.
The problem is not confined to politicians. The leadership of legacy organizations, who are avowedly in the Jewish advocacy business and are not beholden to outside constituencies, are even more feckless. Unelected with near lifetime tenure. Generally unknown to the Jewish community they serve. And too often fearful of offending their donor base, which increasingly seeks the approval of the Biden White House and the progressive wing of the Democratic Party, these entities have been hijacked by the same woke priorities that have overtaken universities, mainstream media, and corporate boardrooms.
Historically Jews voted the Democratic ticket, but they conducted themselves as if they had never actually chosen sides. That’s no longer true. The Anti-Defamation League (ADL), the American Jewish Committee, the regional Federations, the Jewish Community Relations Councils, the Jewish Council for Public Affairs (JCPA), and the Union for Reform Judaism, are all now wholly owned subsidiaries of the Democratic Party—a party that rolls with many fellow travelers.
Last week showcased a bitter demonstration of this truth. A relatively new organization, the Combat Antisemitism Movement, produced a video that seemingly linked “woke ideology” with increased antisemitic violence perpetrated by Muslims and African-Americans. These are important progressive constituencies at a time when legacy groups are looking to develop alliances with intersectional partners who share a history of persecution. Surely Jews can’t be seen charging such groups with antisemitism—even if true.
Two Jewish organizations that had initially joined the Combat Antisemitism Movement—the national umbrella group for the Federations, and the JCPA—both withdrew their support, in protest. Feeling outside pressure, the Combat Antisemitism Movement removed the video from its website.
The message was made clear: As long as neo-Nazis and Alt-right agitators can be blamed for the acts of Jew-hatred in Charlottesville (2017), Pittsburgh (2018), and Poway (2019), Jewish leaders will offer their full-throated condemnation. But if more widespread acts of violence are attributed to Islamists and persons of color, then the protocols of political correctness take over and Jewish leadership will roll over.
As long as neo-Nazis and Alt-right agitators can be blamed for the acts of Jew-hatred in Charlottesville (2017), Pittsburgh (2018), and Poway (2019), Jewish leaders will offer their full-throated condemnation. But if more widespread acts of violence are attributed to Islamists and persons of color, then the protocols of political correctness take over and Jewish leadership will roll over.
But aren’t all forms of antisemitism equally objectionable and potentially lethal? Historically, Jew-hatred was color-blind. Today it has become two-tiered: the antisemitism of white supremacists is condemned; the same conduct from people of color, apparently, is excused.
Principled leadership and moral clarity would allow for no such license. And judging from the experience of European Jewry, there is more to fear from marauding Muslims than Nazi wannabees.
Playing favorites these days should come as no surprise. The Jewish community’s call to arms, “tikkun olam,” is a rallying cry for victimhood established by the progressive left—with Jewish concerns notably exempted. Social justice means Black Lives Matter, the Green New Deal, Free Palestine, the pardoning of pronouns, the paroling of immigrants, the liberation of women’s bodies and the male womb, and, of course, saving the whales.
Saving Jews . . . not so much.
Judaism has become less an organized religion than an exercise in moral narcissism. Virtue signaling supersedes the Shema. Jews are too caught up in DEI dogma (“Diversity, Equity and Inclusion”), and white privileged culpability, to proclaim themselves the Chosen People anymore. Through the eyes of identity politics, they are just another splinter group within the oppressor class. And despite a history that suggests otherwise, they have no claims to minority status.
And making matters worse, Jews are pathetically obtuse to the real threats that endanger them. An oblivion born of the banality of LA’s Beverly Grove, New York’s Diamond District, and Miami’s Bal Harbour—until Jews living there were beaten in the spring of 2021, ostensibly blamed for Israel’s retaliation against the meteor shower of Hamas rockets.
No wonder Jewish students on campus are ill-equipped to respond to pernicious libels against Israel, required to publicly denounce a nation most have never visited. Faced with such hostility, and yet without exemplary leadership to emulate. Wandering Jews still wandering, in place, rudderless. No one prepared to answer the call.
Ominous signs are everywhere. Iran spins centrifuges. Palestinians celebrate terror. The United States rejoins UNESCO. Louis Farrakhan still, shockingly, a welcomed guest. Commencements speakers, Middle East Studies departments, and critical race theorists brainwash students—in a woke world, anti-racism allows for antisemitism, just like the Combat Antisemitism Movement’s video intimated.
Meanwhile, the Jewish house is divided, and everyone is fast asleep.
Thane Rosenbaum is a novelist, essayist, law professor and Distinguished University Professor at Touro University, where he directs the Forum on Life, Culture & Society. He is the legal analyst for CBS News Radio. His most recent book is titled “Saving Free Speech … From Itself.”
On a recent night I passed by Holocaust Museum LA where Joshua’s twelve foot image hangs on a poster facing Pan Pacific Park. Joshua stands tall, his arm raised with a clenched fist. His words on the poster read: “WE SHOULD ONLY LOVE ONE ANOTHER, DON’T HATE!” 
“We all enjoy eating,” Kramer, author of “52 Shabbats: Friday Night Dinners Inspired by a Global Jewish Kitchen,” told the Journal. “You layer on the Jewish food symbolism and food history, and it becomes a very important event.”
