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January 18, 2024

College Presidents, This Is How You Protect Jewish Students

“… Let there be no question that Vanderbilt unequivocally considers calls for violence or genocide against any member of the Vanderbilt community to be evil, repugnant and violative of university policy,” Daniel Diermeier, chancellor of Vanderbilt University, wrote in an email sent to students on the first day of the new academic semester.

As a Jewish Vanderbilt student, I was equally shocked and overjoyed to see such a message from my college’s top leader. Being a Jew on an American college campus has never been harder than it is today. In the months following the Oct. 7th massacre, Jewish students have been harassed, threatened, and even beaten with sticks at the institutions they call home. Professors have called the slaughter of our people exhilarating and engaged in Holocaust-level denial. 

When presidents of three of our nation’s top universities – Harvard, MIT, and the University of Pennsylvania – testified in front of Congress that calls for genocide against the Jewish people don’t necessarily violate their schools’ codes of conduct, Jewish students were once again made aware of how little our well-being matters to colleges that preach tolerance and promise safe spaces for all. The aftermath of these testimonies has brought us some vindication – both Liz Magill and Claudine Gay resigned from their presidencies at UPenn and Harvard, respectively. Yet some of higher education’s most influential leaders have defended the presidents under the guise of “academic freedom.”

Chancellor Diermeier’s straightforward condemnation of violent hate speech puts to rest any worries I had that Vanderbilt’s administrators would align with the wave of antisemitism dominating academia. 

Chancellor Diermeier’s straightforward condemnation of violent hate speech puts to rest any worries I had that Vanderbilt’s administrators would align with the wave of antisemitism dominating academia. Diermeier makes sure to note that calls for violence against any group of students explicitly violate the university’s rules for student conduct. He then goes even further, assuring that Vanderbilt will not cow to pressure from BDS advocates to divest from Israel and its businesses.

Perhaps most importantly, Diermeier’s letter dispels the ridiculous notion that prohibiting calls for Jewish genocide is at odds with academic values like free speech and impartiality. “Our position is deeply grounded in our long-standing commitment to institutional neutrality,” Diermeier writes, “which calls for the university and its leaders to refrain from taking public positions on controversial issues unless the issue directly affects the core mission and operation of the university. A university’s role is to encourage debates, not to settle them, and institutional neutrality is essential to fostering the maximum freedom of speech and open dialogue on which transformative education and path breaking research depend.”

What Diermeier’s administration understands – and so many other college administrations fail to comprehend – is that when it comes to responding to calls for violence, silence speaks louder than words ever could. Fostering violent sentiment and ethnic hatred on campuses doesn’t protect free speech but curtails it. How can Jewish students speak up for Israel when they feel their views might put them in physical danger? How can Jews feel comfortable wearing yarmulkes and Stars of David on campus when they feel their identity might cause them to be attacked? There’s nothing “academic” or “neutral” about ignoring violent incitement. When university administrations choose to sanction calls for genocide against Jews, they are loudly picking a side.

Jewish students respect the concept of free speech. We understand that some of our peers share hurtful, hateful opinions about Israel, and we respect that in many circumstances they have the legitimate right to express those opinions, even if they make us uncomfortable. All we want is to feel safe on the campuses where we study, socialize and live. Every student of every creed deserves this basic sense of security. Diermeier’s message makes sure to call out not just antisemitism but also “Islamophobia, xenophobia and other forms of hate.” We aren’t asking for any more protection than what seems to be afforded to every other minority group but us. 

Vanderbilt clearly understands the importance of protecting Jewish students. While some might interpret Diermeier’s email as more politically motivated than sincere, I have no doubt that it comes from the heart. We’ve seen clearly the consensus in academia that Jewish and Israeli causes are evil, and we’ve also seen the consequences of advocating for Jews publicly. Diermeier’s courage in standing up for what’s right should be celebrated and broadcasted to the world. Take note, university presidents: this is what real leadership looks like. 


Corey Feuer is an undergraduate student at Vanderbilt University, Class of 2024.

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The Faith of Hadas Lowenstern

My WhatsApp devoted to Israel burns up every day with news updates, uplifting photos, short videos, requests to donate money for a new need, and more. So many of these posts are unbelievably inspiring, and that brings me to Hadas Lowenstern. 

Her husband, Elisha, was killed on the seventh day of Hanukkah. Shortly after, Hadas began recording short videos that express remarkable faith. Interviews with her have followed, and I find her so moving that I decided to type up her comments from several of the videos. I’ve condensed and spliced her remarks for clarity and conciseness. There are many remarkable men and women throughout Israel whose courage, bravery, determination, and faith are helping to carry us through these times. Hadas Lowenstern is one of these women. 

Here is what she has to say:

Elisha was the love of my life. We spent 13 beautiful years together and have six children. Our eldest son will be bar mitzvah one week before Rosh Hashana. Our youngest is a 10-month-old daughter. We were so happy together had a wonderful life. My husband was a software engineer and big Torah scholar. He translated a Gemara Steinsaltz into English, tutored bar mitzvah boys, and was in charge of the shul schedule. He didn’t waste any time. He used an app to do interval exercise, and during the minute breaks between squats or sit ups he’d go to the table and learn mishnayot. 

When the news came on Oct. 7, we both said he had to go. We only had about a minute to talk two times in the first several weeks. He said he was very happy to fight for Am Yisrael. We were both happy and very confident. Elisha’s tank was the first one to enter the south of Gaza. When he drove his tank in to rescue soldiers who had gotten into a situation, they shot him.

When the soldiers knocked on my door on the last night of Hanukkah, I immediately knew. I called my children so they could also hear the news. I realized I did not know the laws of mourning, and I had to call the rabbi to advise us. The rabbi came over and we all cried. My son asked if he was still allowed to study Torah even though he was exempt during mourning. The rabbi looked at him and said, “This question shows you are truly Elisha’s son.” My nine-year-old daughter began to recite Psalm 100, a psalm of thanks to Hashem for all He does for us. We believe in it, even in the hardest moments of our lives. I am so proud of all my kids. The Lowenstern family all stood at the funeral and saluted Elisha. 

It’s hard. It’s hard. But we must continue this war. The Lowenstern family will not let Hamas win. Listen, Hamas, you can’t beat the Jewish people. Will you ever learn from Jewish history? You will finish like Pharoah. The sea will open and you will drown. We will continue to do chesed, sing Shabbat songs, and study Torah. Am Yisrael Chai.

My husband didn’t leave a parting letter (as the Army advises). He said he didn’t need to because he lived in a way that everyone knew how he felt. Every night he told me, “I love you. Thank you for marrying me.” Every night. When you do this day after day, it’s big. Don’t say, when I will have time I will make that call, write that letter, say I love you. Do it now. 

Elisha was the 405th soldier who died in this war (there are now more than 500). Few were in a position where their families could see them before burial. Thank God, Elisha was hit in his lower body, I could see his beautiful face. So many didn’t have anything to bury. 

Talking about his death is so insignificant in my eyes because he only died once but he lived every day. This was Hashem’s decision. We can’t change it, but we plan on living such a wonderful life the bad guys will never live such a life. We will live through the mitzvot, and this is the true victory. Hashem decides when you die, it can be at any age. The question is not how you die but how you live in this world. When my husband went up to heaven I know all the angels stood up and clapped and said, Kol Hakavod, look what you did. This gives me comfort. I have so much to be thankful for. I was the only woman in the world who had the merit to marry Elisha, and I have six kids. 

Jacob our forefather had a hard life, but when he met Esau, he told him, Yesh li kol — I have everything. I’ve learned these lessons from all our holy fathers and mothers. I named my first-born son after a man who was killed in Lebanon and someone already named their son Elisha, even before his shloshim.

Many times a day I find myself telling the kids when they ask me something, “You have to ask Abba.” They look at me (strangely) but I repeat, you really have to ask Abba. He would buy me a present every Rosh Chodesh. The other day it was Rosh Chodesh Shevat, and a friend knocked on my door and gave me a present for Rosh Chodesh. I looked up and said, “Thank you, Elisha.” Even from Heaven he remembers me.

We are all fighting, either in Gaza or in the hospital recovering, and the women and children left at home are fighting on the home front. I worked very hard not to complain when Elisha was in Gaza. When he asked, I said everything was okay. 

We are all fighting, either in Gaza or in the hospital recovering, and the women and children left at home are fighting on the home front. I worked very hard not to complain when Elisha was in Gaza. When he asked, I said everything was okay. 

Each of my children is a different person and each has their own way of coping. I know there is a long way ahead of us. Educating children is never easy, even with two parents. I will have to daven a lot. Two hours ago I looked up and said to Hashem, “Hello? Can you help me? I need to get everyone to sleep.” Tomorrow he will give me new strength. I’m not carrying anyone. Hashem is carrying everyone. I’m just sharing what makes me strong. This isn’t me or mine, these are things I learned from the Torah and my rabbi. 

Everyone wants to give us cakes. We don’t need any more cakes. We need bitachon (certainty that Hashem is in charge). If you thought you could just live in this world and be a Jew but not really understand what it means to be a Jew, it’s time to learn who you are and who we are. Our emuna (faith) and bitachon are the only things that will get us through this hard time.

This morning people from the army came and brought me his tefillin, tallit, personal belongings. I cried my eyes out. Then I looked at the watch and said, now it’s time for me to make lunch. That’s it. I’m going to make lunch for my kids today and that is my victory. I’m even going to make something my kids really like and I’m going to sit with them and eat. You took my husband but you’re not winning. I am the winner because I make lunch today and I will make lunch tomorrow and I will continue living and that is the true triumph.


Judy Gruen’s next memoir, “Bylines and Blessings: Overcoming Obstacles, Striving for Excellence, and Redefining Success,” will be published on Feb. 20. She is also a book editor and writing coach.

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Holding Onto the Light

The spark that creates light is the magical moment when the darkness becomes less pervasive, when it begins to shift from its enormity and lessens its hold on us. Every cell in our being responds and reverberates within, igniting a sense of possibility and hope. In times such as ours it is the salve we hunger for, the medicine that nourishes, whether you are rich or poor. It is like the glow that pervaded the Universe when G-d said, “Let there be light.”

When Hanukkah comes to an end, we wonder how can we hold on to the light. How can it continue to flicker, even dimly, within our core being so that it accompanies us through repeated challenges and the vast cascading events that persist throughout the world? How can we stoke the flame, especially as Jews, in this country, amidst the fear, intimidation, and insecurity we all feel? How do we let the light burn off the negativity and disgust that rises when we see injustice prevail? How do we seize the moment, nurture the flame so it is like the burning bush that shone brightly before Moses without destroying itself. Well, as Elizabeth Barrett Browning once said, “Let me count the ways?”

Social scientists, movement/exercise gurus, musicians, artists, healers, clergy, and mystics all have their own solutions. Within every discipline there are masters who have perfected a way to expand one’s vision, move beyond the limitations we often feel, and find that inner flame. For the psychologist it’s about reinforcing positivity, shifting our perceptions to find the good, the productive and gratitude; for the movement and body centered guru it’s about feeling one’s energy, have it flow while discovering strength, agility, and wholeness; for the musician it’s resonating with the sounds and the vibrations that sync with our heartbeat; for the artist it’s about feeling free to express one’s creativity, innovative ways of thinking, forming and shaping new objects or perhaps exploring expressive palates of colors or shimmering textures; for the healer it’s focusing on well-being and self-care, nourishing the senses, quieting the mind; for clergy it’s tapping into deeds that nourish others, assigning time for prayer and Torah study; and for the mystic it’s identifying with the Name, attaching oneself, in D’veykut, to the Holy One through meditation, imagining an elevated journey through the many chambers beyond in a golden chariot. Any one of these becomes a doorway to nurture the very essence of one’s passions so the flame is constantly aglow. My teacher Rabbi Mel Gottlieb would remind us of the Kotzker Rebbe’s great teaching, “Any way is a way, as long as you make it a way.”

What is even more assuring is that learning something new is the greatest gift you can give yourself for longevity. 

The most astounding affinity all these disciplines have is that it is in the brain where change, transformation, and enlightenment truly occur. And what is most comforting of all, is that neuroscientists keep reminding us that this organ is one of the most plastic and malleable we possess. What is even more assuring is that learning something new is the greatest gift you can give yourself for longevity. Paradoxically, it is the home of our most nourishing as well as our most destructive hormones. It is the place that can determine whether we see the glass half full or half empty, and ultimately it is how we choose to feed certain activities which will predispose us to one over the other. How comforting it is to know that paying attention to something fulfilling, that nurtures your soul can bring a sense wholeness and peace and perhaps even prolong your life. 

The ability to keep the light burning is not the issue. We all have the capability. It is a matter of choice and intention. Deciding to follow our heart’s passions and stoke the fires within our soul is what keeps the flame alive. It takes consistent dedication. In a culture so driven by multi-tasking, pervasive interruptions, and constant noise, we must be driven to find what is most pleasurable, productive, and engaging of our being. 

As we start the secular new year, it is an opportune moment to truly focus on what brings you joy and what feeds your soul. When you do, the light will be radiant and will fill your whole being.


Eva Robbins is a rabbi, cantor, artist and the author of “Spiritual Surgery: A Journey of Healing Mind, Body and Spirit.”

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Confronting American Jewish Leadership

“Why did you blurb that book?” a friend who leads a major Jewish organization recently asked. He, predictably, disliked the hard-hitting anthology Betrayal: The Failure of American Jewish Leadership, edited by Charles Jacobs and Avi Goldwasser. The introduction, 21 essays, and an epilogue launch 23 hit pieces targeting most establishment organizations, and the new o-so-politically-correct, self-destructive worldview hypnotizing many American Jews. True, these Jeremiads don’t mince words and don’t acknowledge many of the good leaders or their good works. But the authors demonstrate that today’s challenges are too great for our usual self-congratulatory backslapping.  We need the book’s honesty — even when brutal.

Still, I was happy to reread the book – and reconsider my blurb. Especially after October 7, I wondered if the book became out-of-date. I could have been reading “Hamas: Pragmatic not Apocalyptic,” by Benjamin Netanyahu – co-authored by every world leader, most American Jewish leaders, and America’s foreign policy establishment. I could have been reading “Jew-Hating at Harvard: Gone with the WASPs,” by Claudine Gay. Or, I could have been reading, “Israel: No Longer Important to American Jews,” by Peter Beinart and Yahya Sinwar.

Instead, although some chapters need updating, the problems of anti-Semitism, alienation, and anomie the book addresses have only escalated, making it easy to stand by my every word. I wrote: “If you want to believe that all is well in the Jewish world… don’t read this book. If you want to keep your faith in the Jewish legacy organizations and establishment leaders… don’t read this book. If you want to bury your head in the sand and decide that America – and especially Woke America which most Jews worship – is not changing and turning anti-Jewish and anti-Zionist, don’t read this book. If, however, you think it’s time for the American Jewish community, its organizations, and its leadership, to have an honest, challenging, vigorous debate about where we are going – and what mistakes we have made – then, indeed, read this important, illuminating, sometimes depressing, but ultimately inspiring book.”

As with any essay collection, it’s easy to find nits to pick. Some essays are stronger than others.  Some overstate. And post-October 7, it would be nice to add an epilogue honoring the heroic efforts of those supposedly hidebound, anachronistic legacy organizations that embraced Israel enthusiastically, mobilized the American Jewish community impressively, lobbied the White House effectively, and raised over one billion dollars for Israel in two months.

More important, however, is to assess the argument holistically. Four historical processes seem to be menacing American Jews. Using my words not the authors’, American Jews keep being Americanized, Osloified, Aparth-lied, and Politically Corrected. Together, these trends hollow out Jewish identity, while sapping pride and power from American Jews, not just their leaders.

More than 140 years after the great Eastern European Jewish immigration began, young Jews are deeply American. This red-white-and-blue immersion is America’s great gift to every immigrant – and its great threat to their heritage and, often, their souls.

When I teach about American Jewish identity, I reverse currents. Rather than telling the story traditionally, explaining how Jews became Americanized, I tell the story of mostly third- and fourth-generation Americans who incorporate some Jewish elements into their identities too.

Moreover, as an American historian, even as American Jewish solidarity wanes, I note how much more Jewish many American Jews are compared to their Italian, Irish and German peers. So, yes, American Jewish intermarriage rates keeps skyrocketing. But intermarriage is ignored or celebrated in most comparable communities. Also, many non-Jews now become Jewish or Jew-positive by being raised as “nothings” and marrying into “somethings,” namely, American Jews more attached to their heritage than their peers.

As American Jews’ connection, fluency and communalism fade, the assault on Zionism hurts their identities too. By 1967, Zionism became American Jewry’s secular super-glue. Supporting Israel helped increasingly-assimilated American Jews “do Jewish” and delight in the greatest Jewish communal adventure today, building the State of Israel. Even the ongoing traumas of wars, terrorist attacks and international denunciations initially bonded many American Jews to Israel.

In “the Two-State Solution and American Jewish Survival,” Caroline Glick shows how, since the 1990s, the Oslo Peace Process’s two-state solutionism has been triply problematic. First, treating it “axiomatically” as “the only solution” blocks debate, cancelling any doubters as “anti-Peace.” Second, it makes too many American Jews what I call “Blame Israel Firsters,” assuming that if only Israel gave enough to the Palestinians, peace would result. Finally, even worse, the two-state paradigm buys the Palestinian narrative, whole-hog.  Caricaturing Israel as the perennial aggressor, American Jews’ growing occupation preoccupation negates Jews’ indigeneity, ignoring Jewish ties to the once-Biblically Jewish lands Jordan seized illegitimately in 1949.

Since October 7, some American Jews have realized that following Oslo, the territories became flooded with weapons, just as since the 2005 disengagement, Gaza became a launching pad for evil. But listen closely, not just to Democrats but to many American Jews: you can still hear the siren song of the two-state solution, of “if only Israel gave up the territories, then there’d be peace,” seducing so many. I get it. Who wants to be involved in a conflict with enemies who just want you dead and view any concession as an opportunity to rearm not reconcile?

Beyond this Osloification of the American Jewish conversation is the Aparth-lying about Israel. Since the Soviet-Palestinian Zionism-is-racism libel spread during the 1970s, more and more liberals deem Israel “racist.” In 2001, when the World Conference against Racism in Durban, South Africa, scapegoated Israel instead of critiquing bigotry globally, this new blood libel re-entered the international bloodstream with a vengeance. This Big Black-and-White Lie has fueled the offensive against Zionism on campuses and elsewhere, with Israel falsely accused of racism, and the national conflict between Israelis and Palestinians racialized, South-Africanized, Nazified. Many American Jews who ignored the problem pre-October 7, have suddenly discovered it.

Finally, many American Jewish rabbis, teachers and communal leaders have accepted the new Politically Correct Progressive package viewing America as systemically racist, whites as privileged, and Jews as white. Beyond feeling shamed, many liberals Jews have participated in a mass-virtue signal – or blue-and-white-wash – reducing Judaism to one big Tikkun Olam campaign that keeps echoing the Democratic Party agenda of the moment.  Even many Jewish day schools, Naya Lekht warns, are “woke in content, Jewish in form,” raising new generations of apologetic Jews misreading Judaism as modern liberalism.

Together, these exaggerations form a cluster bomb blasting the American Jewish soul, distorting the Jewish religion, cheapening Jewish values, eviscerating Jewish peoplehood, undermining Jewish solidarity, and besmirching the great American Jewish success story. Rather than taking pride in coming to the New World penniless and oppressed, then prospering thanks to our sweat and our smarts, Jews are supposed to feel ashamed, dismissing every American Jewish high-achiever for clawing ahead on the backs of blacks and other perpetually-oppressed minorities. Even now, after the three Ivy League Presidents embarrassed themselves in Congress and proved how numb Woke people can be to Jewish pain, too many American Jews remain addicted to this ideology, which promises “social justice” to all, but actually only cares about some.

These four trends proved particularly toxic in back-to-back miserable Mays which haunt this volume. In May, 2020, the Minneapolis police officers who murdered George Floyd, unleashed a “racial reckoning” that mainstreamed this talk of Jews as white and privileged and unfairly exploiting America’s minorities – despite our own small numbers – and troubles. Then, in May, 2021, the surge in anti-Zionist Jew-hatred, as Hamas bombed Israel, brought out more leading Un-Jews, Jewish leaders trying to undo the Zionist consensus that has been at the heart of American Jewish identity since Israel’s establishment in 1948.

Still, in May, 2021, most American Jews defended Israel – as did most American Jewish leaders. Since October 7, the community showed even more unity, more pride, more focus, and a deep connection to Israel.  Still, what is emerging is a new American Jewish elite: some rabbis, some communal leaders, who get more attention than they deserve – and while far to the community’s left, keep dragging it there. Those extremists who remained un-Jews after October 7, continued knocking Israel down – often cowering behind masks, so they could still earn their salaries from the American Jewish organizations that pay them. If I were writing the book today, instead of attacking The Failure of American Jewish Leadership my title would proclaim: Beware this next Generation of Leading American Un-Jews and Tikkun Alarmists.

While the challenges are serious – and the underlying trends daunting – we must not despair. Even those who disagree should read this book, to start the deep, reflective, post-October 7 rethink we need – once the war ends.

Ultimately, even while exposing the American Jewish obsession with “being liked by the Gentiles,” even while repudiating “spinelessness,” “influence peddling,” “resume padding,” and “denouncing Israel” as “a form of Jewish virtue-signaling, the shameless flashing of moral narcissism,” the Jewish Journal’s own Thane Rosenbaum generates optimism. Calling for “moral courage,” Rosenbaum seeks “today’s Maccabees,” challenging us to avoid wallowing in self-abnegation. Indeed, months after the book’s publication, American Jewish Maccabees mobilized to help Israelis’ mass Maccabean counterattack save Israel.

So, let’s take the leap of hope Zionism and Judah-the-Maccabee taught us to take – trusting that tomorrow will be better than today – despite the trends – and arguing vigorously about where we are going while rolling up our sleeves to make things better.


Professor Gil Troy, a Senior Fellow in Zionist Thought at the JPPI, the Jewish People Policy Institute, is an American presidential historian and the editor of the new three-volume set, “Theodor Herzl: Zionist Writings,” the inaugural publication of The Library of the Jewish People (www.theljp.org). 

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Rabbis of LA | Rabbi Scott Westle Prefers the Classroom to the Pulpit

In an environment of clashing Worldwide opinions, Scott Westle, the rabbi-in-residence at Heschel Day School, has set an ambitious target for his sixth, seventh and eighth graders.

“I want my students to know the history and have the facts,” he told the Journal. “They are confronted daily with information, not all of it true. Their social media apps do not contain bibliographies. I want them to hear the stories, learn the facts, see how they are sourced, what is accurate, what is false.” In his 10th year at Heschel, he realizes “they aren’t able to process what is true and what is not.” The students (age 12-14) “are not yet critical thinkers.” Westle sees it as his responsibility to teach them how. 

Entering their teens, students don’t have the context to grasp the connection between anti-Israel sentiment and anti-Jewish sentiment. “Or why people didn’t know much about the geopolitical situation before Oct. 7, and now they are experts. My kids don’t know yet how to process those things.”

In Westle’s youth, growing up in different communities with a father who was education director at Conservative synagogues, he fell in love with Israel and the Jewish people. That’s never waned. “I love the connection between Jewish history and Israel,” he said. “I share that passion with my kids. I don’t apologize for it.”

In his classroom, Rabbi Westle stresses truth-telling. He wants students to have a clear understanding of the Jewish people’s connection to the Land, to the State of Israel, why it matters as a value to Jews, why L.A. Jews should care about Israel and to learn about the phrase “war is hell.”

When his students are confronted with raw numbers and information, they may ask themselves, “how am I meant to feel?”  Does Rabbi Westle want his students to take a certain perspective? Or does he give them a range from which they can choose? Are they mature enough to select?

While some families talk about the war at home, the rabbi has made a habit of encouraging students to check the news. “I will say to them ‘Check MSNBC, check Fox News, CBS, The Wall Street Journal, The L.A. Times. When they all tell the same story, that is called truth.’

“I tell them to check multiple [sources]. I tell them about Israeli sources that I check, and they also are across the spectrum.” Among those sources Westle mentioned are The Times of Israel and Ha’aretz.

As with students elsewhere, those at Heschel have cell phones, internet and social media access. “Unfortunately,” said Rabbi Westle, “there is a large campaign around the world to point out every mistake Israel has made in the history of its existence. This is under a magnifying glass. My students are grappling with the notion of ‘What does it mean that I am so proud of this place, and yet I am seeing all of these other ideas on social media?’”

The child of two Jewish educators, Westle was born in Florida and grew up in Albuquerque, N.M. and Tucson, Ariz.
“Real hotbeds of Jewish culture,” he ironically noted.  “Funny because my parents wanted us to have this Jewish life. It was very hard. In upper elementary and high school, I was very involved with Jewish youth groups and USY, and all my friends were based in Southern California. I was constantly coming to L.A. in high school, which mystified my friends.”

As a teenager, Westle took Jewish youth trips around the country, and also to Poland and Israel.

He remembered spending 10 days in Poland before setting foot in Israel. They visited camps, cemeteries and learned about pre-Holocaust Jewish life that was and Jewish life that was resurgent. He remembers standing inside a gas chamber and singing “HaTikvah.”

“When I went to Israel for the first time,” he said, “I remember thinking this is somehow the greatest thing that ever happened to the Jewish people — without really understanding what it was. From there, my engagement just grew.”

Westle always seemed to be involved in Israel education on campus.  After graduating San Diego State, he returned to Israel “looking for myself.” He learned for a year at the Pardes Institute then, because of Jewish youth group friends, he moved to Los Angeles on a whim.  One of his first jobs was with the Israel organization StandWithUs. “After a few months,” Westle said, “I realized I didn’t want to teach college students to defend Israel. I wanted to teach students to love Israel.”

Still in his mid-20s, he became a USY director in West Hills. The rabbinate was not in sight. “I was thinking,” “I hope someone sees the way I am running a youth program in a synagogue and says, ‘I like what you do, and I want to offer you a job in my business.’”

That never happened. “Instead, what I heard was, ‘You are good at running this Jewish youth program. Maybe you should be a rabbi,”’ Westle said.

He realized he loved being involved with Jewish nonprofits, and “being a rabbi gets you a seat at the table.  “I didn’t see myself as a religious leader, though. But I thought with education, the guidance and wisdom of traditions, they might make me a good candidate for whatever I want to do.” In 2014, he was ordained at American Jewish University, the same year, he said “Heschel took a chance on me.” 

For now, Rabbi Westle’s home is in the classroom, and probably long-term. He flashed a smile. “I feel very fulfilled. My biggest complaint is that I am not always challenged by sparring matches with 13-year-olds.”

Fast Takes with Rabbi Westle

Jewish Journal: As an eclectic reader, what is the best book you have read?

Rabbi Westle: “On the Road,” by Jack Kerouac, which I read when I was 18 and living in Israel. Also, “Barbarian Days: A Surfing Memoir,” by William Finnegan, even though I don’t surf — but I love the beach.

J.J.: Favorite Jewish food?

Rabbi Westle: Classic latkes.

J.J.: Favorite place you have traveled?

Rabbi Westle: Queenstown, New Zealand, known as one of the extreme sports capitals of the world.

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Sweet Dates and Tu B’Shevat Recipes

When I met Alan 24 years ago, I told him that when my father takes him to his garden and shows him his plants and trees, Alan will know that he is “in.”

A year later, Alan stood up and made a speech at our wedding and repeated this story. He waited a beat and said “David, you still haven’t shown me your garden!” Everyone laughed. Over the years, I never once doubted how much my father loved and respected Alan. 

Our family friend, Rabbi Moses Benzaken once likened my father to a date tree. It was a wonderful and fitting comparison, because unlike other large, majestic trees, palm trees are easy to transplant. But also because my father absolutely loved palm trees. 

My father came from a wealthy family in Baghdad, Iraq. His father had a wholesale food business selling grains, spices, medicinal herbs, nuts and dried fruits. Iraq is the birthplace of dates and my father especially loved dates. 

In 1950, with the assistance of the T’nuah, the underground Zionist movement, my 15-year-old father ran away to Israel, where he became a successful builder.

When my mother’s family emigrated to Sydney, Australia, he and my mother followed them there. At 32, he learned a new language and built a new life from scratch. Then again, when he was 49, my mother wanted to move to Los Angeles. He adapted and thrived everywhere he went. Like the date palm, he stood tall and strong. 

Many years ago, he bought a huge piece of land in the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney. It had a climate that reminded him of Iraq, hot in the summers and cold in the winter. Thirty years ago, he resolved that he would grow dates in Australia. His favorite date was the soft, sweet, fruity yellow barhi date, which are believed to be native to Iraq. He bought 5,000 dates from a farmer in the Coachella Valley and shipped them to Australia. One of his proudest accomplishments was cultivating 1,000 date palms from seeds. Those trees are still alive and thriving. 

This Tu b’shevat, we will indulge in dates and walnuts and almonds and pomegranates and remember how much he loved these simple, delicious fruits. 

—Sharon

In 16th century Tzfat, the spiritual center of the Kabbalah, the mystic Isaac ben Solomon Luria (Ha’Ari) created the Tu b’Shevat Seder. Celebrated on the 15th day of the Hebrew month of Shevat, the Tu b’Shevat holiday is considered one of the four “New Years” in the Jewish calendar. It is traditionally viewed as the birthday of the trees (Mishna RH 1:1). 

The Ari’s Seder has become a popular tradition for “Chag Ha’Ilanot” (Festival of the Trees). It entails eating a meal centered on the seven species special to the Land of Israel—wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives and dates. The Ari intended the Seder as a mystical Tikkun (correction) of Adam’s sin in eating from the Tree of Knowledge. By eating of the seven species, a person essentially becomes a partner-in-creation with G-d. 

All of the seven species play a popular part in the cuisine of Sephardic Jews. But this week, Sharon and I wanted to highlight two particular ingredients — olives and nuts. Olives are a big part of Moroccan cuisine, so I always have lots of varieties in my pantry. My Moroccan olive chicken calls for briny green olives. My orange salad demands dried, salted black olives. My Israeli salad sings with the addition of creamy kalamata olives. And at Shabbat lunch, you will always cheese burekas accompanied by Greek olives. Honestly, I have a bit of an olive problem. I can devour a bowl of olives in a matter of minutes. 

As you can imagine, I just love this recipe for marinated olives. The salty, meaty textures play perfectly with the fresh lemon juice and orange zest, the hot spice of red chili flakes and citrusy tang of the sumac. The fresh thyme adds an interesting woodsy note.

This recipe takes olives to a whole new level, but it’s also wonderfully forgiving. 

This recipe takes olives to a whole new level, but it’s also wonderfully forgiving. Use your favorite citrus fruit and pick your favorite herb—rosemary, oregano, thyme. And use whichever olives you love. Just make it and enjoy!

-Rachel

Marinated Olives

Marinated Olives
2 cups green olives
2 cups Greek or Kalamata olives
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 lemon, juiced
1/2 orange, juiced
Zest of 1 lemon
Zest of 1 orange
2 tsp chopped fresh thyme, or a few sprigs
2 tsp fennel seed, optional
1 Tbsp sumac
1 tsp red chili flakes
1 cup olive oil

Rinse olives thoroughly and drain thoroughly.
Place olives in a pan and add all the ingredients. Toss well to coat.
Place the pan over low heat for 10 minutes.
Serve warm.
Notes:
Place leftover olives in a glass jar with a tight lid and store in refrigerator. Serve cold.
Olives will keep for one month.


Many moons ago, Neil and I lived in Westwood and our daughter Rebekah attended Warner Elementary. The parents were very involved, taking turns helping on field trips and hosting class parties.

At these class parties, the moms would make special treats for the parents. Along the way, I made new friends and picked up some wonderful recipes. This recipe for spicy nuts has become a favorite. The nuts are infused with sweet, salty and spicy flavors and the aroma of the rosemary makes them enticing. Neil loves to indulge in a whiskey with these flavorful nuts on a Friday night before dinner. I make them with vegan cashew butter. They are really decadent and addictive.
—Rachel

Sephardic Spice Nuts

2 ½ cups unsalted mixed nuts
2 Tbsp fresh rosemary, finely chopped
½ tsp cayenne pepper
½ tsp sumac
2 tsp dark brown sugar
1 tsp kosher salt
1 Tbsp unsalted butter or vegan butter, melted

Preheat oven to 350°F.
Place the nuts on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.
Place the sheet in the oven and toast until the nuts are golden and fragrant, about 6 minutes.
In a large bowl, combine the rosemary, cayenne, sumac, brown sugar and butter.
Add the warm toasted nuts and toss well. Add the salt and toss again to make sure all the nuts are coated.

Notes:
Keep a close eye on the nuts, as they can burn quickly.
Store nuts in an airtight container, up to 5 days.
We double and triple this recipe.


Rachel Sheff and Sharon Gomperts have been friends since high school. They love cooking and sharing recipes. They have collaborated on Sephardic Educational Center projects and community cooking classes. Follow them on Instagram @sephardicspicegirls and on Facebook at Sephardic Spice SEC Food.

Sweet Dates and Tu B’Shevat Recipes Read More »

Hearty Soups for Veganuary

Did you know that it’s Veganuary?

It’s the perfect time to try going vegan – or just start incorporating more vegan dishes into your diet.

“There are those that believe vegan cooking can’t be hearty, but those people are clearly not in the know,” Danny Corsun, founder of Culinary Judaics Academy, told the Journal.

Corsun’s Black Bean Soup is a go-to in his house when they want to eat a dairy-free meal; they are already meat-free.

According to Corsun, this vegan, vegetarian and gluten-free soup is easy to make and, thanks to some basic aromatics and Cuban spices, incredibly flavorful.

“This delicious soup is very much both hearty and vegan and is a fantastic way to start off a meal.” – Danny Corsun

“This delicious soup is very much both hearty and vegan and is a fantastic way to start off a meal,” he said. “Or have two bowls with a side of roasted corn and sweet potato and make it your whole meal.”

Don’t forget the good crusty bread for dunking!

Black Bean Soup
by Danny Corsun

The recipe yields quite a bit of soup (6 to 8 servings); it is easily halved, or you can freeze the leftovers.

2 Tbsp olive oil
2 medium yellow onions, chopped
3 celery ribs, chopped fine
1 large carrot, peeled and sliced into thin rounds
6 garlic cloves, pressed or minced
4½ tsp ground cumin
½ tsp red pepper flakes (use ¼ tsp if you’re sensitive to spice)
4 (15-oz.) cans of black beans, rinsed and drained
4 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro (optional)
1 – 2 tsp sherry vinegar, to taste, or 2 Tbsp fresh lime juice
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
Optional garnishes: Diced avocado, vegan garlic-herb soft cheese, extra cilantro, thinly sliced radishes, tortilla chips and whatever else you can think of.

Heat the olive oil in a large soup pot over medium heat, until shimmering. Add the onions, celery, carrot and a light sprinkle of salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are soft, about 10 minutes.
Stir in the garlic, cumin and red pepper flakes, and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Pour in the beans and broth; bring to a simmer over medium-high heat. Cook, reducing heat as necessary to maintain a gentle simmer, until the broth is flavorful and the beans are very tender, about 30 minutes.
Puree about 4 cups of the soup in a blender until smooth (beware the steam that escapes from the top of the blender, it’s very hot). Return the pureed soup to the pot, stir in the cilantro, vinegar/lime juice and salt and pepper, to taste. Garnish and serve.


Dawn Lerman’s 450-pound ad-man dad coined the award-winning slogan for Campbell’s home style brand, “Soup is Good Food.” He credited Lerman’s flavorful, anti-oxidant-rich Mushroom Miso Soup with finally conquering his lifelong battle with obesity.

“I first learned how to make this miracle broth as a kid, when exploring the health benefits of a vegetarian lifestyle,” Lerman, a nutrition expert and author of “My Fat Dad: A Memoir of Food, Love and Family, With Recipes,” told the Journal. “Infused with garlic, ginger, shitake and tofu, this soup said, ‘I love you,’ and brought my dad comfort in a way my words never could.”

Miso is a traditional Japanese fermented soy or rice paste.]“Its healing power is often compared to chicken soup, especially when paired with immune boosters like garlic, ginger, onion, and shiitake mushrooms,” Lerman said.

Mushroom Miso Soup
Photo by Dawn Lerman

Vegetarian Mushroom Miso Soup

1 (2–3 inch) fresh organic ginger root, peeled and coarsely chopped
½ organic onion, chopped
1 Tbsp oil of choice
6 garlic cloves, chopped
1 cup sliced mixed raw mushrooms (shiitake, portabella, maitake)
8 cups water or vegetable broth
1 cup organic dried Shiitake mushrooms
½ lb. tofu, diced
¼ cup organic miso paste (There are many types of miso to choose from. I like sweet white miso — this is a paste not a powder — and you can add a little more if you like a strong miso flavor)
1 head of roasted garlic cloves, peeled and mashed
2 organic carrots, chopped
1 teaspoon tsp of salt (preferably a truffle salt or good-quality Himalayan salt) or more to taste

In a stockpot, sauté the ginger and onion in the oil until the onion just begins to sweat. Add the raw garlic and raw mushrooms, and cook until browned. Then add the water or broth to the pot and bring to a slow boil. Add the dried mushrooms and tofu and carrots, , and then lower the heat.t, Cover and simmer for 30 minutes, or until the shiitakes are fully reconstituted.
While the pot of mushrooms is simmering, ladle about 6 ounces of the broth into a separate bowl and add the miso paste to it; stir until dissolved. Next, add the mashed roasted garlic to this mixture. Once thoroughly combined, add the garlic-miso mixture back into the pot and add salt to taste. Stir well and enjoy all the healing properties of this magic broth.


Michael Tanenbaum loves Pumpkin Soup. Pumpkins, he explains, are packed with vitamins and minerals.

“They are a very good source of potassium, magnesium and zinc in the diet,” Tanenbaum, founder of the website Consciously Kosher, told the Journal.

“They also contain the powerful antioxidants lutein and zeaxanthin, as well as beta-carotene, which converts into copious amounts of vitamin A in your body and gives the pumpkin its signature orange color.”

Why add pumpkin into a soup?

“Soup is very hydrating,” he said. “It is also easy to digest … and it makes your insides feel warm and comfortable on those cold winter days, even in SoCal.”

Sugar Baby Pumpkin Soup

1 sugar baby pumpkin, halved, seeded, brushed with oil andbaked, cut side up, in the oven on parchment paper at 350°F, until soft
1 big sweet potato (or 2 medium-sized potatoes), peeled and diced
1 medium onion (preferably yellow)
8 cups water
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp pumpkin spice
1/3 cup raw unfiltered honey
Pinch of sea salt (plus more to taste)

In a large pan, sauté the onion in 2 Tbsp avocado oil until they are transparent.
To a large saucepan, add the onions and 4 cups of boiling water. Add the potato, boil for 10 minutes.
Peel the pumpkin.
Add the pumpkin to the saucepan. Add more water if needed to cover the pumpkin.
Toss in cinnamon, pumpkin spice and salt.
Boil for 5 minutes.
Remove from heat, let cool for a few minutes, then blend with a hand blender.

Enjoy!

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Table for Five: Bo

One verse, five voices. Edited by Nina Litvak and Salvador Litvak, the Accidental Talmudist

For seven days, leaven may not be found in your houses, for anyone who eats leavening — that soul shall be cut off from the assembly of Israel, whether a convert or a native of the land.

– Ex. 12:19


Gila Muskin Block
Executive Director, Yesh Tikva

Pesach can be one of the loneliest holidays for people in struggle. The Torah itself prescribes a strong focus on children and the holiday is often celebrated intergenerationally. Yet, besides for the social sensitivity, this parsha also highlights the importance of inclusion as core to its halachic celebration. 

The parsha has an interesting reason for the requirement to remove chametz, leavened bread, from our homes. It says that we must do so because whoever eats chametz will be cut off from the community of Israel, whether a Ger or a citizen. 

I would think that the only reason to remove chametz from my home is so that I or my family don’t come to eat it. But this parsha gives us a much broader reasoning: It’s so that the Ger does not eat it either. The responsibility for their observance is somehow on me. 

Who is a Ger? Chazal generally understands Ger to be either a Ger Tzedek, a convert, or a Ger Toshav, a non-Jewish individual living among Jewish people. Both of these interpretations come from the core meaning of Ger: a stranger. A stranger is someone who does not readily feel included in the community, someone who is likely vulnerable. 

I would like to suggest that by including the Ger in our requirement to remove chametz, the pasuk parsha teaches us that at the core of our observance of Pesach is the importance of caring for the vulnerable among us. Even more, it’s about taking responsibility for them.


Rabbi Pinchas Winston
Thirtysix.org

Let’s say one piece of treif meat accidentally became mixed together with two identical pieces of kosher meat, and you can’t tell which is which. What is the law? You might think you should throw all three pieces out since even if you eat just one, it might be the treif piece. Instead, the Torah employs a well-known law, acharei rabbim l’hatos — go after the majority, and since the majority of pieces are kosher, we treat all three as kosher. The rabbis worried that people would intentionally take advantage of this law, and mandated that all three pieces not be eaten (should such a situation occur, a person should consult a competent rabbi). But the principle is still the principle, that even a large amount of forbidden food can become permissible if nullified by the requisite amount of kosher food. The only exception is chametz on Pesach, which isn’t nullified even if outnumbered by a million times its amount. And unlike other forbidden foods, chometz is kosher the rest of the year even on its own! Why the distinction? Chametz represents a person’s evil inclination, their yetzer hara, a person’s own personal Pharaoh in their life. Free will means will free of the yetzer hara’s influence, so for at least one week of the year we try to completely rid ourselves of it, if not actually, then at least symbolically. For this reason, even a mashahu—a little bit of chometz is forbidden even when we can’t see it. 


Rabbi Elchanan Shoff
Beis Knesses of Los Angeles

It is a most severe violation of Torah law to have chametz in one’s possession on Passover. Sefer Hachinuch explains that this is to remind us of the miracle performed on our behalf in Egypt, culminating in a mad dash to freedom when even bread hadn’t time to rise. We must allow this idea to sink into our hearts — for it is the center of the Torah and its teachings: God chose our people, He and He alone took us from slavery to freedom. We must never forget who we are, and where we come from. We have a remarkable history, special ancestors, and a unique story. Throughout Jewish history, our people have refused to give in to tyrants, have been prepared to die in order to cling to Shabbat and circumcision and all of our precious mitzvot. We learned to be on God’s side, and not to prefer the side of power or popular opinion. We only continue to exist, because like our ancestor Abraham, we would rather be on God’s side in a fiery furnace, than in comfort on the side of wickedness and tyranny. It is for this reason that there are still Jews despite every attempt to eradicate us! Jew: always be bursting with pride! You represent every value of goodness and kindness. One who forgets all of this, will sadly be cut off from his people. Stay on God’s side always. Be proud of your people always, and never forget: God freed you from Egypt.


Rabbi Abraham Lieberman
Judaic Studies, Shalhevet HS 

The Hebrew word for “leaven” used at the start of this verse is “se’or.” Its etymology and origin is unknown and its usage is limited. It is found only 5 times in the entire Tanach, and limited to being forbidden on Pesach and for its forbidden usage as part of the Korban Mincha, the Meal Offering.

Bread as we know it and the discovery of sourdough = yeast, that allowed bread to rise and get its taste and consistency, was discovered in Egypt. In the Ancient World it was the pride and prize of Egypt. Egyptian Royalty and the upper echelons of society ate bread. Unleavened bread was eaten by the rest of the population. I am convinced that the word “se’or” is of Egyptian origin and it means sourdough. 

Why would the Torah forbid its usage with such a severe punishment as “being cut off from the Assembly of Israel”? 

Pesach represents the physical freedom of the Jewish People from slavery. Inherent in that freedom is the choice to make meaningful decisions. Baking bread with sourdough and allowing to rise to a sophisticated level represents part of the very culture that enslaved the Jewish People. For seven days a year Torah forbids any connection to that culture as it reminds us of our simple beginning of as people, real and raw, with no outside influence, simply flour and water. Now in this state of foundational purity we can choose to be ready to march to Mount Sinai.


Tova Leibovic-Douglas
Rabbi and Spiritual Counselor

Judaism is a tradition of questions and when reading this verse from Passover, I am flooded with many questions: What does it mean for a soul to be cut off? How is this determined and implemented? Is this punishment not somewhat harsh? There are textual traditions for how to engage with said questions. I would like to invite us into a relatively new pathway. The Torah is a mirror for our soul and when learning, we are tasked to ask how this ancient wisdom text is relevant to us today. We are living in a world and currently creating communities that are spiritually cutting one another out. If a person does not think exactly like us, they no longer belong to us. In a moment that is as heart-wrenching and traumatic for us all as a people, instead of growing closer, we are segmenting. In the biblical legal world there are three main ways to be spiritually cut off: Eating leavened products on Passover, working on Shabbat, not circumcising a male child. Many of us, I imagine,  have not cut off a Jewish individual for doing any of these transgressions. Yet, we are cutting souls off for merely seeing the world differently. How did we get here? How do we get out? For me, the answer is always to look towards the text and this verse is the call to feel the intensity of this concept, so that we can remember that it is limited and not the answer.

Table for Five: Bo Read More »