I’ve only been in Israel for 48 hours but I can already feel the angst. I asked a prominent thinker what is different about the current crisis, and he promptly replied: “The enormous gap between the level of our problems and the quality of our leadership.”
Among other concerns, there’s a genuine fear that a war in the north with Hezbollah– a terror army equipped with tens of thousands of guided missiles that can disable critical infrastructure– will make the Gaza war feel like kid’s play.
Meanwhile, there is also exasperation with a governing coalition that seems to care more about its own survival than anything else. As the war in Gaza drags on and the casualties mount, as the hostages continue to languish with little hope in sight, and as the economy suffers and thousands of Israeli refugees still can’t go home, the news from the Knesset is dominated by political games to keep the coalition going.
Israelis, though, have no choice but to keep going.
At a wedding I attended in a nature preserve in the village of Abu Ghosh, I asked an Israeli guest what it felt like to be at a joyous event while the country was going through such precarious times.
“It’s defiance,” she told me. “It’s how we fight back.”
I loved the notion of defiance. I loved the reframing of the good life as a weapon in the war against Israel’s enemies. The soldiers fight on the front lines, the civilians fight by showing the enemy that the best of their lives can go on.
The real miracle of Israel is that it has never settled for survival. Despite the endless wars and terrorism it has faced, its aim was always to thrive. There’s a very long list on Wikipedia of Israeli inventions and discoveries that is mind blowing in its breadth. These achievements represent an urge to meet life at its highest level, to aim for sophistication in culture, arts, science, philosophy, literature, music and whatever else makes life worth living.
The problem with fighting a primal evil like terrorism, however, is that it makes it a lot harder to maintain that sophistication. How can one focus on advancing the arts or sciences while seeing bodies getting blown up? How can one think of cultural creativity while surrounded by enemies who only want to send you back to the dark ages?
Oct. 7 was the most concentrated delivery of human savagery imaginable. For Israelis, it was like seeing 75 years of terrorism in 10 hours.
Naturally, the reaction was primal. The terrorists had to be destroyed. In Israel today, the tug of war between the primal instinct to fight and the refined instinct to create and innovate has never been in greater tension.
It’s encouraging to see that with so much attention diverted to the war, the societal engines haven’t stopped. A recent report, for example, shows that Israel’s tech sector continues to grow, albeit at a slower rate, with some 600 new startups created last year and tech firms raising $8 billion in 2023.
But while Israel has managed to thrive for so long while under siege by primitive enemies sworn to its destruction, it won’t continue to do so without strong leadership. The current crisis is next level: it demands it.
That’s why so many people here are disheartened that their government itself has become somewhat primitive. Being obsessed with its own survival, and stifled by the agendas of extremist parties, this coalition is devoid of the sophisticated strategic thinking that the nation desperately needs to get through this uniquely treacherous phase of its history.
So while the leadership dithers, the people are fighting as best they can. They’re expressing their defiance by living their lives, volunteering to help those in need, raising their voices for the hostages, supporting the soldiers, and, yes, dancing at weddings.
They want the terrorists to know that they don’t want to become like them.
What pairs nicely with the start of summer? A refreshing drink, of course. You can enjoy these new favorites — alcoholic and not — all summer long.
Samantha Ferraro of The Little Ferraro Kitchen loves the combination of date molasses and rose water for the Lebanese drink Jallab; it’s a unique, non-alcoholic drink.
“It’s used throughout Mediterranean cuisine, especially Israeli,” Ferraro, author of “The Weeknight Mediterranean Kitchen,” told The Journal. “I also heard a rumor or old wives’ tale that the term ‘land of milk and honey,’ it was actually referring to date molasses.”
Jallob by Samantha Ferraro
1 cup water
1 Tbsp date molasses
1/2 tsp rose water
1/2 tsp honey (optional, for extra sweetness)
Ice
Optional: 1/2 Tbsp toasted pine nuts or slivered almonds
In a tall glass, add water, date molasses, rose water and honey, if using. Note: If you are new to rose water, add a small amount at first, taste and add ¼ teaspoon more if you like the flavor. A little goes a long way.
Give it a good stir.
Fill with ice and top with pine nuts (or slivered almonds), serve immediately.
A splash of pomegranate juice would be a delicious addition as well. It’s not traditional, but you can also top Jallab with a splash of sparkling water for added fizz.
Tamara MC, Ph.D. has loved Mexican food her entire life. “My Jewish mom grew up in New York City and moved to Arizona for college,” Tamara told The Journal. “When my mom was pregnant, she was living in the basement of a Mexican food restaurant; during the beginning months of my life, I breathed in what would become my favorite food.” Horchata is a traditional, refreshing beverage that is popular in Mexico and is made primarily from rice.“While horchata is usually made with only cinnamon, I like to use extra spices, such as nutmeg, star anise and cardamom, as well as a dash of chili powder to give it a kick,” she said. “You can always leave out these ingredients and keep it more traditional.” As a vegetarian, Tamara doesn’t like anything too milky. However, she said the mix of evaporated and condensed milk makes the recipe creamy without being too milky.“ Some people add whole milk instead of water to the recipe; I prefer to use water, so it is lighter,” she said. “You could also use fat-free or almond milk; I love the taste of almonds, so I add a handful.”
Horchata de Arroz
2 cups long grain white rice (like Jasmine)
6 cups water
1 stick Canela from a Latin market or a regular cinnamon stick
A pinch kosher salt
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp cardamom
1/4 tsp chili powder
2 cans sweetened condensed milk
2 cans evaporated milk
For garnish: ground cinnamon
Toast rice with a stick of canola in a dry skillet until rice is golden and cinnamon smells fragrant. You need to constantly stir rice to prevent it from burning. This process should take about 10 minutes.
Boil 3 cups of water and pour over hot rice in a heatproof bowl. You can add a pinch of salt. Let sit for about 30 minutes.
Blend the soaked rice in a blender. You may need to do multiple batches depending on the size of your blender. Add 3 cups of cold water, sweetened condensed milk and vanilla. Blend until smooth, about a minute or so.
Strain the blended mixture through a fine sieve into a bowl. You can put it through cheesecloth if you’d like your horchata super smooth. Stir in the evaporated milk.
Chill horchata and serve over ice. Garnish with ground cinnamon.
When was the last time you drank a pickle margarita? Maybe it is time to try it!
”In her signature margarita recipe, Bubbie substitutes agave nectar for her bread & butter brine,” Matt Reynold, brand manager for Fermented Food Holdings (the parent company of Bubbies Fine Foods), told the Journal. “The tart ansubtle sweetness of this family recipe pairs perfectly and makes for a fresh twist on a classic margarita.”
He added, “The fermented and pickled brines are a complex ingredient substitute for any recipe that calls for vinegar (utilizing a sour brine) or a syrupy sweetener (utilizing bread & butter brine).”
Bubbies Pickle BrineMargarita
3 oz tequila
6 oz Bubbies Bread and Butter Chips brine
3 oz of lime juice
1 cup ice
Salt (to rim the glass)
Mix tequila, lime juice and pickle brine together in a blender with ice.
Salt the rim of the margarita glasses and garnish with a lime or a bread and butter chip!
Cool and refreshing cucumber and tart lemon pair perfectly with the smoothness of the bourbon in Pam Stein’s Cucumber Bourbon Cocktail.
Cool and refreshing cucumber and tart lemon pair perfectly with the smoothness of the bourbon.
“Add a touch of honey for a hint of sweetness and you have a perfect summer cocktail,” Stein, of In Pam’s Kitchen, told The Journal. “Plus, bourbon goes nicely with so many foods that it’s great for serving at your next barbecue.
Cucumber Bourbon Cocktail
1-1/2 ounces cucumber slices, plus more for garnish
1 oz lemon slices
2 tsp raw honey
1 Tbsp cold water
2 ounces bourbon
Ice cubes
Club soda
In a cocktail shaker, muddle the cucumber, lemon, honey, and water.
Add the bourbon. Cover the shaker and shake well.
Add ice cubes, as desired, to a rocks glass. Strain the drink into the ice filled glass.
Top with club soda. Lightly, stir with a bar spoon.
As a child of Iraqi Jews, The Farhud has forever been a part of my memory and the holiday of Shavuot will always be shadowed by this tragic event. My grandfather always attributed the death of his father, a successful doctor in Baghdad, to the shock and heartbreak of seeing the violence unleashed on his community. The Jewish community, which dated back to the exile of Nebuchadnezzar, had thrived for centuries, coexisting with their Muslim and Christian neighbors. By 1941, elite Baghdadi Jews were high-ranking officials, dignitaries, attorneys and wealthy merchants, who owned a majority of the businesses in Baghdad.
The Farhud, which means “violent dispossession” was a pogrom that erupted against the Jews of Baghdad on Shavuot, June 1, 1941. After the fall of the Ottoman Empire, the British had a Mandate in Iraq. They appointed a King, Faisal I and gave many civil rights to the Jews. In April, 1941, the pro-British government was overthrown by the ultra-nationalist Rashid Ali, with the support of four high-ranking Iraqi Army officers, known as the “Golden Square” and Haj Amin Al-Husseini, the exiled Grand Mufti of Jerusalem. For years, the Iraqi populace had been primed for violence through the efforts of the Grand Mufti Haj Amin and the Nazi German ambassador. Arabic-language radio broadcasts aired antisemitic propaganda from Berlin. Yunis al-Sabawi had translated “Mein Kampf” into Arabic and it was serialized in the “Arab World” newspaper Al Alam al Arabi. The latter had also groomed Muslim youth in the Futtuwa, modeled on the Hitler Youth movement.
When the British Army decided to reoccupy Iraq, the coup leaders escaped to Iran. The Jews of Baghdad thought that the dangers had passed and went out to celebrate the festival of Shavuot.
There are no coincidences in life. Last week, my uncle Moshe, my father’s eldest brother, passed away at the age of 95.
As I sat down to write this story, my brother, Rabbi Natan Halevy, sent a recording of Moshe’s account of surviving the Farhud. He described the house that his father had built for the family in Karrada, away from the tightly built ancient Jewish neighborhood in the center of Baghdad. At first, the Futtuwa youth were hurling rocks at their house, which was scary but didn’t inflict much damage because a metal fence and strong gate surrounded the property and metal grilles protected the windows. He and my uncle Shlomo stood on the roof for hours, throwing rocks back at the youth. But then, soldiers and policemen began firing live ammunition in the neighborhood and they realized they could no longer defend themselves. My grandfather asked their Egyptian Moslem neighbor for help. The neighbor allowed the family, including my great-grandmother Farha, my 5-year-old father and his young siblings, to shelter in their backyard.
Many Jews were not as lucky. Mobs of rioting civilians joined the soldiers, policemen and youth in two days of mayhem. While the British Army waited on the edge of Baghdad, it is estimated that 200 Jews were slaughtered, 1,000 were maimed and injured, many young women were gang-raped, 600 homes were destroyed and many, many businesses were looted.
Decades later, my father would laugh at the memory of their neighbor’s wife, who exacted payment from my grandmother for the last decade that his family lived in Baghdad. At least once a week, she would come to their home with a cup or a bowl asking my grandmother Rosa for a cup of sugar or some other household commodity, which she had “run out of.”
—Sharon
This year, Sharon and I were honored to be part of the Kahal Joseph Congregation commemoration of the Farhud. There was a conversation moderated by Sharon’s brother Rabbi Natan Halevy, which was an incredible opportunity to hear from our good friend Joseph Samuels, who survived the Farhud as a young boy. He is the author of the book “Beyond the Rivers of Babylon,“ subtitled “My Journey of Optimism and Resilience in a Turbulent Century.”
Joe is the most incredibly uplifting and inspiring man, who single-handedly rebuilt his life after escaping Iraq with the clothes on his back. As Joe told us his story, one line resonated with me. He said “I was a refugee for one year. That’s it. Then I went to work and I studied.”
We also heard from Joe Dabby, author of the book “No Looking Back,“ who described life in Iraq after the mass Aliyah of the Jewish community in Operation Ezra and Nehemiah, in the early 1950s. He told stories of the curtailing of Jewish civil rights, including a ban on Jewish homes having a telephone. He told of the execution of Jews and his own arrest and fearful, furtive escape from Iraq with his wife, Yvette, our dear friend.
—Rachel
I always joke that I am the child of refugees. It’s meant to be funny, but I know that there is some truth to it. There is the memory of trauma, an entire community literally marked for violence and destruction with red palm prints marking Jewish homes just before the Farhud.
Fortunately, my family, and countless other Iraqi Jews, brought with them their rich heritage, their tefilah (prayer), their songs, their traditions and of course, their amazing recipes.
Fortunately, my family, and countless other Iraqi Jews, brought with them their rich heritage, their tefilah (prayer), their songs, their traditions and of course, their amazing recipes. They rebuilt their lives in Israel and the Diaspora. One of those traditions is to make the best Iraqi breakfast. Also known as Sabich, the rolled up laffa sandwich is made with brown eggs, “bethi mel Shabbath” and golden fried eggplant, “baban’jan.” This week, we were inspired to share with you Rachel’s recipe for crispy, spicy chickpeas. We serve them with creamy hummus as part of this amazing spread that works for breakfast or at any time of the day.
—Sharon
Crispy Spicy Chickpeas
1 15.5 oz can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp garlic powder
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp paprika 1/2 tsp Aleppo or cayenne pepper (optional)
Black pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 450°F and place a rimmed baking sheet in the oven while it preheats (this ensures the chickpeas crisp as soon as they hit the hot pan).
Pat chickpeas dry with paper towel (any residual moisture will cause the chickpeas to steam instead of crisp).
Toss the chickpeas with olive oil, salt and spices.
Carefully remove the baking sheet from the oven, place the chickpeas in an even layer.
Roast chickpeas for 10 minutes, then shake the pan.
Continue baking until chickpeas are golden and crispy, about 10 to 15 minutes.
Allow to cool and serve over hummus or salad.
Sharon Gomperts and Rachel Emquies Sheff have been friends since high school. The Sephardic Spice Girls project has grown from their collaboration on events for the Sephardic Educational Center in Jerusalem. Follow them on Instagram @sephardicspicegirls and on Facebook at Sephardic Spice SEC Food. Website sephardicspicegirls.com/full-recipes.
One verse, five voices. Edited by Nina Litvak and Salvador Litvak, the Accidental Talmudist
On the day the Mishkan was erected, the cloud covered the Mishkan, which was a tent for the Testimony, and at evening, there was over the Mishkan like an appearance of fire, [which remained] until morning.
– Num. 9:15
Rabbi Dr. Janet Madden Malibu Jewish Center and Synagogue
The setting-up of the Mishkan is an opportunity for theophany. Built according to Divine specifications, it is the spiritual center-point for the people, the locus of sacred immanence, the dwelling-place of Shechinah. Positioned at the heart of the community, it is the repository of sacred energy, connecting every element of creation. Just as the layout of the Israelite camp is a horizontal representation of cosmic order, so the Mishkan continues that motif through a vertical axis. And in the vastness of the landscape of desert-wilderness, the language of visual symbols becomes a love-language of connection between the One to every aspect of creation. Literally grounded in the earth upon which it has been erected, the Mishkan is the link between the heavens and the earth. In the atmosphere above it, air and water combine to form the protective cloud-mass that contains life-sustaining dew and rain — the perceivable reassurance that life will be sustained. This cloudy combination shields the human and more-than-human worlds from the potentially catastrophic merging of the bright desert sun and the incandescence of the Mishkan, providing another marker of Divine protection. And at night, the time of deepest human vulnerability, the power of the Divine manifests as fire, the encoded possibilities of purification and destruction on dramatic display, the juxtaposition of fiery light set against the darkness to create an indelible image of Presence. As our ancestors must have done, may we, too, encounter earth, air, fire and water as portals to connection with the Holy One.
Rabbi Abraham Lieberman Judaic Studies, Shalhevet HS
The section preceding this verse speaks of the narrative of Pesach Sheni (Second Pesach, Bamidbar 9:1-14). There were people who, because of their state of impurity at the time of the sacrifice of the Korban Pesach, could not offer it, so they approached Moshe with a very poignant question. “Why should we be deprived … among the Children of Israel”? (Bamidbar 9:7) They didn’t want to miss out on this mitzvah through no fault of their own. Moshe turned to Hashem, who introduced a mitzvah, Pesach Sheni. Their request created a new mitzvah, going from 612 to 613. It is to be celebrated by the people who could not participate in the Korban Pesach at its appointed time, though replicating some of the same details the next month.
And then comes our verse telling us about the Cloud of Glory covering the Tabernacle during the day and its appearance as a Fire at night, a continuous showing of the Divine Presence. What connects these two sections, juxtaposed next to each other? According to Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888), the connection is a natural one. Pesach represents the deep love of the Jewish people for Hashem, and these people showed how much it bothered them that they could not participate. On a deeper level when we examine their words, we see exactly that point— yet there was more. They wanted to be unified with the rest of the Children of Israel. The lesson is very powerful, when we are united in serving Hashem together, we merit the Divine Glory.
Rabbi Aryeh Markman Executive Director/Aish LA
What is your purpose? Throughout the 40 years in the desert the Jews followed the cloud and pillar of fire; signifying God’s presence and 24/7 assurance that no matter where the Jews were, God was with them. I can use some of that! The biblical Jews’ purpose was not in question. How do we develop that confidence today? Firstly, you have certain natural talents and thinking that no one else will ever have, as the Talmud documents. Allow your unique genius and ability to take you in that direction. Another factor is where in history has God placed you? Sometimes a person may be forced into doing something due to external circumstances, which can bring out one’s unknown qualities. Parenting is one such example. Lastly, sometimes a person may not be particularly talented or have experience in a situation, yet they are inspired to make the necessary improvements. Consequently, their desire to fill the need spurs them to be granted “heavenly help” as a reward for their efforts. Take fundraising. I believe everyone can be a fundraiser for a just cause. Once that cause is identified, people can walk through walls to reach their monetary goals. In addition to the above insights, the Torah is our guide. For without it a person can find themselves on the wrong side of Free Palestine (from Hamas) demonstrations. God is present but hidden, imperceptibly leading us along in our purpose. But it’s our responsibility and opportunity to identify the direction of our journey.
Netivot Shalom gives a Hasidic explanation to this verse. On the day the mishkan is erected in a person’s life, as each individual goes forward to build his personal mishkan, his/her place for Hashem to dwell, a cloud may cover the tent of meeting, things get dark and stormy, and at night there may be a fire over your sanctuary, trials and tribulations, struggles and difficulties come to test you. But says the Torah: This is how our personal mishkan is built, this is how we develop as an individual and as a nation. We are always tested and often, we are in a dark place, we think we cannot possibly move ahead and grow from this devastation, but eventually the cloud rises again, the morning comes, and the Jewish people can travel and move ahead. A Jew grows and moves toward greatness and meaning through the darkness and difficulties but only after the trials and tribulations make way for a great light. God is encouraging us that we are not meant to move forward during the darkness, we just wait it out and remain steadfast in our emunah, and know that when the clouds lift and let in the dawn, we will be able to move towards our purpose and reach higher levels of clarity and growth. May we merit to see the clouds, fire and darkness move aside and the sun and clarity take their place, individually and nationally soon!! L’ilui nishmat Daniel ben Aryeh v’Liora.
Rabbi Tova Leibovic-Douglas Founder of The Ritual House, www.theritual.house, @rabbi_tova
Jewish rituals often have a specific element out of the four (Fire, Water, Air and Earth) connected to them. For instance, Shabbat candles and havdalah have fire, the blowing of the shofar and smelling the spices on havdalah have air, washing our hands before breaking bread and the mikveh contain water, blessing and eating challah with salt and blessing and drinking wine on Shabbat and holidays is earth. According to our tradition from the Zohar to Maimonides, we can see these four elements grounding nearly every aspect of our ritual life, and yet, we often do not notice them as they are interwoven seamlessly. This Torah portion is a reminder of how the most sacred spaces and holy of holies are contained by each of these mystical elements as well. The cloud is a beautiful combination of water and air, while the fire shines brightly. The one missing is earth, which reminds us that we, as earthly creatures dwelling on the land, are essential to this sacred space. This week we are encouraged to remember these elemental energies to connect more deeply to what matters most. We are blessed to do just that through our sacred rituals.
The crisis I fear could come gradually or erupt at once. It is getting closer. It is dangerous. If it arrives, Israel will have difficulty recruiting the manpower it needs for essential tasks. Yes, even patriots — and our soldiers prove every day that they are great patriots — could crack. We must remember this, lest we find ourselves surprised.
Think about the trend and events of the last few days:
Last Saturday was a day of many deaths. Eleven soldiers died. Their smiling faces break the heart of every citizen. Their stories remind us that we are all indebted, that we must be deserving of their courage and sacrifice. It is hard to look at them without reflecting on the heavy toll paid by the few for the many. It is hard to look at them without thinking about why they paid the heaviest price. And of course — we know why. In a broad sense we know why. There is a war, and the war is just and essential. And yet, life is precious, and we — their fellow Israelis — need to know that whoever sends our soldiers to battle does so with seriousness, with a clear purpose, with an acknowledgment of the price.
The problem is we don’t always feel that way. The problem is that trust in the government, and the Prime Minister, is very low. This means that when Israelis are called for battle, to risk their lives, they are required to go even though the political leadership that sends them into the danger zone is a leadership they often do not trust. In the first months of the war, trust in the government was also low, but the sense of emergency was strong enough to mitigate doubts. Naturally, this sense of urgency gradually wears off, and the questions about purpose become more profound.
When Israelis are called for battle, they are required to go even though the political leadership that sends them into the danger zone is a leadership they often do not trust.
Adding to the pile of doubts, our leadership was engaged this week in a maneuver whose components are contradictory: On the one hand, it strives to impose an additional burden on the regular and reserve servants by extending their service. On the other hand, it wants to legally exempt young ultra-Orthodox Israelis from the burden of service. And of course, we can talk back and forth about whether now is the right time to search for a remedy for a historic challenge of exemption. But we can’t obscure reality: the state adds to the already heavy burden of some people, while working to release their fellow citizens from all burden.
And it doesn’t end with this: The public is also losing faith in Israel’s ability to win the war. This is an important fact. Because no one wants to be the one who, God forbid, is injured or killed in a war that is already over, or that we have already lost. No one wants to be the last soldier killed in Gaza. Yes, the soldiers know that Israel’s war is vital. Still, a nagging sentiment remains: If there is no chance of winning, or no chance of winning more than we have already won (if you think we did), motivation will naturally decrease.
Now think about the four things we mentioned: A daily reminder of what may happen to those who fight, low trust in the leadership that sends the soldiers into battle, doubt in Israel’s ability to achieve victory, and a growing awareness of the fact that not everyone shares in the burden. Such a toxic mix may make Israelis wonder: Should we report to duty? Should we risk our lives? The burden is heavy, especially on the reserves and their families. So, there may come a moment when some of them will find a reason, or an excuse, to stay home. And the more of them decide to do that, the heavier the burden on those who continue to serve.
And who is going to tell them that there is no choice — the leaders they do not trust? And who is going to ask them to keep coming — the leaders who just voted to exempt others?
The war is a test for Israeli society. The war is a particularly difficult test for the groups that carry more of the burden within Israeli society. From month to month, the leadership raises the bar of difficulty, making the test more and more challenging. From month to month, the soldiers pass the test with honors. But this does not mean that the bar can be raised indefinitely. This does not mean that the soldiers will pass every test, under all circumstances.
Something I wrote in Hebrew
If the next elections reflect the current situation in the polls — and it is not at all certain that they will, because parties will still unite, break up and rise — no one will be satisfied. Everyone will have to compromise. What does it mean to compromise? If the parties of the current coalition get close to 60 seats, they will still have to add another party, which will limit their ability to achieve their goals … if the opposition parties get close to 60 seats, they will have to decide: Should they include Arab Ra’am again? Many voters oppose that option. So what, add an ultra-Orthodox party? This will also mean compromise that many voters would not accept.
A week’s numbers
Here’s one bright side: war in Israel and antisemitism abroad made Israeli Jews much more aware of their commonalities with all Jews:
A reader’s response:
David Klein writes: “If Israel keeps the war going it’s going to lose a whole generation of young American Jews.” My response: Maybe, but if it doesn’t win it puts a whole generation of young Israeli Jews at great risk.
Shmuel Rosner is senior political editor. For more analysis of Israeli and international politics, visit Rosner’s Domain at jewishjournal.com/rosnersdomain.
Elchonon Cohen, the new associate rabbi at The Community Shul (TCS), cannot really be considered “new.” Although he was only ordained this past January, he is nearly as familiar to the TCS community as his father, Rabbi Moshe, the congregation’s senior rabbi for 38 years.
Growing up in the Cohen home meant dealing with parents who had different backgrounds. “My mother, who is Swiss, is much more the disciplinarian than my father,” Rabbi Elchonon, the third of six children, explained. “Being Swiss, she has that yekkish approach — this is the only way to do it. My father is Irish. So he is much more happy-go-lucky.“ While Rebbetzin Cohen was the disciplinarian, if Elchonon was in trouble with his father, “you were really in trouble. There would be a consequence.”
One of those consequences has stayed with him. As a preteen, he admits he had turned into a lackadaisical student at Toras Emes by La Brea Boulevard and Melrose Avenue. He said he can recall it with absolute clarity because “it probably is the most impactful speech I ever have gotten.”
Rabbi Elchonon remembered that “my father sat me down here in the shul library. The elder Rabbi Cohen pointed a finger at the hundreds of volumes. “He said ‘You can become an expert in any one of these, but you have to choose to do it.’ This really has stuck with me. If you were in trouble with my father, which I was at the time, you were really in trouble.”
As he advanced through Rabbi Shlomo Gottesman’s yeshiva in Calabasas, this lesson became firmly entrenched. But his path to the rabbinate, which started the year he turned 35, “has been a little bit of a rocky journey.”
After high school, Rabbi Elchonon learned at a yeshiva in Lakewood for four years before spending a year in Israel. It was time to decide on a career, at least as far as the elder Rabbi Cohen was concerned. He asked his second son, “So, what do you want to do with your life?” “I would like to go into education, but not children’s education.”
Adult education, the Jewish variety of one sort or another.
Did the young Elchonon have any idea that the rabbinate might lie ahead? Choosing his words carefully, he said “I don’t know that you would necessarily consider that the rabbinate.”
It was a decision Rabbi Elchonon put off for many years.
With that, he explained why he makes the distinction. In the yeshiva system he grew up in, ordination is not necessarily a goal. It’s more a means to an end. If you want to go into the rabbinate, you will study and take tests. But otherwise, “I would say the vast majority of people who spend many years in yeshiva, and even post-yeshiva in kollel, are not ordained. He’s quick to add “it doesn’t mean they are not brilliant. It doesn’t mean they are not well-versed, in terms of the actual certification. They have not gone through that process because it is seen more as a technicality that one would do specifically if one were going into the rabbinate.” As the rabbi described it, in this world “the rabbinate is not the equivalent of a bachelor’s or master’s degree. It is more the equivalent of an M.D.“ As an example, he said that “a person can study biology for many years, but he is not a doctor even though he might know plenty about the human body, He has not studied specifically to be a doctor. You can say something similar here — a person can study Torah for many years, but unless he is studying specifically how to be a rabbi, then he will not become a rabbi. He may be extremely knowledgeable, but that is just not the path he has chosen.”
“A person can study biology for many years, but he is not a doctor even though he might know plenty about the human body. He has not studied specifically to be a doctor. You can say something similar here — a person can study Torah for many years, but unless he is studying specifically how to be a rabbi, then he will not become a rabbi.”
Asked if he struggled with the choice to become a rabbi, he said he was “not sure if struggled is the correct term, but avoided or skirted specifically having to become ordained because, I don’t know. There was only internal pressure.” To be clear, he emphasizes that “neither my father nor my mother ever pushed me particularly in this direction.” By his reckoning, “it was more of an internal thing. I had to choose, to come to the place where I really want to do this.”
Before he came to that place, he was an elementary school teacher in southern New Jersey, at Shalom Torah Academy, an outreach-oriented school, catering to the many Russians in the surrounding area. He taught sixth, seventh and eighth grades for three-and-a-half years.
What finally made up his mind about ordination? Rabbi Elchonon quickly broke into a broad smile. “My wife.” The newlyweds flew to Los Angeles shortly after their August 2020 wedding. “After that, my wife said to me, ‘You know you are kind of a different person when you are leading services and teaching in shul. You come much more to life when you are doing that.’” She wanted Elchonon to pursue the rabbinate “even though at the time— until that moment — I kind of had left my options open.”
She was “very much the motivating force for us to come here. I very much want to be here, but I would not put that on her without her very much wanting it.
When the Cohens married, Elchonon was not thinking of returning to his hometown. “This move was particularly difficult for my wife,” he said. Her family is on the East Coast where she has lived all of her life.” Marriage and ordination were game-changers. “My wife and I both knew we were not going to stay in Lakewood,” the rabbi said.
Fast Takes with Rabbi Elchonon
Jewish Journal: Describe what it was like to grow up in your family.
Rabbi Elchonon: It was a balance of tradition and modernity.
J.J.: What is your favorite Shabbat food?
R.E.: Cholent, but it must have kishka.
J.J.: What is your favorite activity with your wife?
R.E.: Both of us are homebodies. Given a choice, both of us would sit on a couch and watch a movie.
Much of the international pressure Israel faces in its ongoing war against Hamas in Gaza is premised on the belief that large swaths of Gazans would love nothing more than simply living in their own state, side-by-side with Israelis. This despite Palestinian polls and politicians continuing to show overwhelming support for Hamas’ Oct. 7 massacre, which, it bears pointing out, was committed by individuals who did live side-by-side with their kite-flying, peace-loving Israeli neighbors. That is before they shot them, raped them, took them hostage or burned them alive.
While Israelis continue to wait for true local partners of peace to emerge, perhaps some comfort can be found in the haftarah that will be read a week from this Shabbat. It tells of Rahab, a Canaanite who saw in our people’s cause and our God a righteous calling, and supported the nation of Israel in its fight for the Promised Land.
The story, told in the second chapter of the book of Joshua, recounts how Moses’ successor sent two spies to scope out the city of Jericho. Finding themselves in the home of a local woman named Rahab, the two scouts were quickly found out by the local authorities. Troops were sent by Jericho’s king to capture and kill them. Thinking quickly, Rahab lied to the arriving soldiers and said the men had already moved on. In fact, she had hidden them on the roof of her residence. “I know that the Lord has given the country to you,” she told the spies once the threat has passed, “… for the Lord your God is the only God in heaven above and on earth below.”
When the coast cleared, Rahab made a treaty with the Israelite scouts. In return for her risk-taking action, she and her family received secure passage out of the city. Talmudic tradition says she eventually converted to Judaism and married Joshua himself.
Rahab’s courage and kindness are particularly pronounced when contrasted with an earlier and similar biblical episode, that of the two angels (in Hebrew, malachim) who visited the house of Lot, as told in Genesis chapter 19. In that tale, the two secretive visitors arrive to spare Lot from his city Sodom’s upcoming destruction. There, too, the two guests arrived in advance of a city being attacked, just like those spies in Jericho. In both stories the arrivals spend the night at a local’s home. In each, as well, the homeowner is instructed to “bring out the men” to be turned over for punishment, arrangements are made for the visitors to survive without being seen by the attackers, and characters are told to “run to the hills” for safety. In the book of Joshua, the spies are later referred to as malachim, tightening the ties between the two narratives.
As contemporary Bible scholar L. Daniel Hawk notes in his article “Strange Houseguests: Rahab, Lot, and the Dynamics of Deliverance,” Rahab acted, in her story, in the role of God’s divine messengers in the Genesis narrative. In her tale, the spies might have been the ones called malachim but it was Rahab, like the heavenly beings, offering instructions, directing the action and providing salvation. It was she who enabled lives to be saved. As Hawk puts it, “the story of Rahab’s deliverance from Jericho is rendered after the pattern of Lot’s rescue from Sodom… the spies exhibit Lot’s traits — passivity, fluctuation, and impotence — while Rahab takes on the characteristics of the angels — initiative, urgency and command.”
Rahab’s remarkable story reminds us that individual kindnesses emerging from unlikely sources and across boundaries and nationalities can offer light amidst the darkness of war. Though she was not a general, parliamentarian or even soldier, her heroic actions have echoed for generations.
Rahab’s remarkable story reminds us that individual kindnesses emerging from unlikely sources and across boundaries and nationalities can offer light amidst the darkness of war.
Furthermore, Rahab’s statement of belief in the Jewish God is a reminder that while faith so often serves as a source of distinction and violence, it more powerfully can serve as a force that forges ties across divides. As the late British Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks once put it, “when we are divided on matters of faith, we are still united on matters of fate.”
Finding enough Rahabs to de-radicalize a virulently anti-Israel population — especially after the depths of “civilian” involvement in hostage-keeping continue to emerge — seems like a vision only a contemporary prophet would dare muster. Yet as we read her story next Shabbat, we can continue to hope and pray that such individuals will emerge like angels, reaching out their hands yet again, beckoning towards reconciliation, as if from the heavens.
Rabbi Dr. Stuart Halpern is Senior Adviser to the Provost of Yeshiva University and Deputy Director of Y.U.’s Straus Center for Torah and Western Thought. His books include “The Promise of Liberty: A Passover Haggada,” which examines the Exodus story’s impact on the United States, “Esther in America,” “Gleanings: Reflections on Ruth” and “Proclaim Liberty Throughout the Land: The Hebrew Bible in the United States.”
Of all the terrifying scenes last week — the hordes attacking the Nova music festival exhibit in New York; the jihad-enthusing demonstrators in Washington, D.C. chanting “Hezbollah, Hezbollah, kill another Zionist now”; the balaclava-clad figures in the subway car daring riders to “Raise your hand if you’re a Zionist!” — it’s the bizarre, repetitive incantation that really haunts me. It’s the video of a woman at the center of a group of keffiyeh-clad figures, Palestinian and yellow Hezbollah flags waving in the background. The woman shouts a phrase over a bullhorn and the crowd repeats it back to her, a mass of mindless Manchurian Candidates. The video begins with the declarative sentence “F— the Nova music festival,” which is duly repeated back.
“AKA the place!” the woman shouts.
“AKA the place!” the crowd intones. “Where Zionists decided to rave!” she shouts.
“Where Zionists decided to rave!” it repeats.
At risk of benumbing the reader, a sense of the scene requires a bit more. The woman and group continue:
“Next to a concentration camp.”
“Next to a concentration camp.”
“That’s exactly what this music festival was.”
“That’s exactly what this music festival was.”
“It’s like having a rave.””
“It’s like having a rave.”
“Right next to the gas chambers.”
“Right next to the gas chambers.”
“During the Holocaust.”
“During the Holocaust.”
It is, one commenter on X writes, the zombie apocalypse. I think it is about the eeriest thing I have ever seen. But it has also made me think about the past.
I was active on the far left for over 25 years. I attended countless demonstrations during that time, including many against Israel. No demonstration ever happened without chanting — meaning calling out repetitive, sing-song-y slogans in a group — and I eagerly took part. Not participating would have been seen as a sign that my heart wasn’t with the others, and anyway, raising my voice alongside my fellow righteous people felt good. It bound me to them, creating a sense of unity and camaraderie that warmed an indifferent world.
Because I belonged to a particularly sectarian, orthodox Trotskyist group, I only joined chants written and approved by my party. These chants were notoriously arhythmic and tortured as prose, but they were, we told ourselves, programmatically correct, which was much more important than trivialities such as whether they rhymed. So I marched with my comrades in what we called “military formation,” feet slapping on the pavement, sunshine on my face, chanting some convoluted slogan about U.S. imperialism being the world’s greatest terrorist. The voices of my dear, intelligent comrades merged with mine. A breeze stirred, birds sang overhead, our spirits were as one with our heroes and martyrs. It was hypnotizing.
Whenever I left my party contingent to try selling our newspaper to people in the broader demonstration, I’d hear other chants: the ever-popular “In our thousands, in our millions, we are all Palestinians” or the perennial “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.” I thought the first chant was simply stupid, while I didn’t think about the second one at all. If I had, it’s possible that even in those days I would have recognized there was a problem with it: my party had a position — in theory — that it was quite wrong to call for driving the Jews into the sea. But I didn’t think about it. I didn’t join these chants because they weren’t party chants, but I still soaked up the transcendent sense of solidarity. I smiled and basked in the sunshine and feeling of unity, my mind entirely blank.
So I know firsthand how chanting contributes to groupthink — how by repeating a phrase in tandem with others, a person’s critical thinking faculties shut down for the sake of an emotional rush. And yet it seems to me that the bizarre scene of that group dully intoning after their leader, and similar videos I’ve seen since Oct. 7: this is something different. In all my years on the far left, I never saw this. The chanting of the old days was sometimes disturbing enough, but this? This looks like a new group psychosis.
That’s how it appears to me now anyway, watching as an incredulous Zionist, but I know from experience that those incanting automatons must have powerful feelings for that woman with the bullhorn: respect, even adoration, faith. They must know on some level that what they are doing is weird; some might even have a niggling sense of how maniacally antisemitic it is. But they’ve learned to suppress those thoughts. Membership in the group requires participating in its rituals, as faithful and fervent followers, toward horrors unknown.
They must know on some level that what they are doing is weird; some might even have a niggling sense of how maniacally antisemitic it is. But they’ve learned to suppress those thoughts. Membership in the group requires participating in its rituals, as faithful and fervent followers, toward horrors unknown.
It’s a chillingly familiar story, recycled for the 21st century. It takes elements from the Soviet Union, Land of the Glorious October Revolution, and a measure from the Nuremberg rallies. There’s mass hysteria à la the Salem Witch Trials, an echo of Jonestown, and a great animating spirit from Mao’s Cultural Revolution. For more au courant material, there’s the Taliban, Islamic State, and of course Hamas and Hezbollah. Put it all together and you have a movement devoted to oppression and terror, cloaked in the language of freedom and justice.
“I felt ashamed that I was less full of hate than the others,” a sensitive Chinese boy remembered about participating in his country’s Communist-organized campaigns more than sixty years ago. (His story is told in a Cold War classic, “Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism”by Robert Jay Lifton.) The designated enemy changes according to time and place—though curiously, it often seems to be the Jews. And hate never goes out of fashion.
When a society is sick, growing numbers of people can only find the sense of meaning and belonging they need in a group, or movement, that claims to have all the answers for their problems. Empty-eyed dogmatists reveal the truths that must be followed; exact punishment against renegades and those who fail to show enough zeal; and instruct their acolytes on who is the source of evil. In return they offer what may feel like the only protection against the abyss.
It sometimes looks hopeless, but successes are possible; light and reason may reach even the most unlikely of zealots. So fight on we must. One zombie at a time.
Kathleen Hayes is the author of ”Antisemitism and the Left: A Memoir.”
CSU Los Angeles President Calls for Pro-Palestinian Encampment to Leave After Occupation of Campus Building
CSU Los Angeles President Berenecea Johnson Eanes issued a statement on June 13 declaring that the pro-Palestinian encampment on campus need to leave campus after members of the encampment occupied and vandalized a campus building while administrators were inside.
Eanes’s statement, per ABC7: “As you likely know, last night unlawful protesters occupied the first four floors of the Student Services Building, destroying offices, stealing property, and leaving significant damage.” She added that there was “significant damage” to the building that will “will affect student-facing services including admissions, records, accessible technology, basic needs, new student and family engagement, Dreamer resources and educational opportunity programs. It will take time to restore all those spaces and divert significant resources that would otherwise go to academics, student services or operations.”
A university spokesperson told ABC7 that 12 administrators (including Eanes) were sheltering in place inside the building when the protesters occupied it. Eanes addressed the matter in her statement by saying: “For all those who sheltered in the Student Services Building, who had to leave in that chaos, thank you for being brave and resilient. Thank you for showing your professionalism and care … To the three employees and one student whose assaults were reported … I am so sorry. Know that this will not stand.”
Suspect Arrested for Alleged Arson Attacks on UC Berkeley’s Campus
A suspect was arrested on June 17 for allegedly committing three arson attacks on UC Berkeley’s campus as well as firebombing a university police vehicle during the month of June.
According to a press release from Cal Fire, the suspect has been identified as Oakland resident Casey Robert Goonan. He faces several felony charges, including possessing and using a destructive devices and arson. Goonan is being held in Alameda County Jail with bail set at $1 million.
The most recent arson incident was on the afternoon of June 17; according to Campus Reform, university police said a fire was reported at the Dwinelle Annex Construction site. University police concluded that it was arson. An anti-Israel group called “Marilyn’s Daughters” wrote on Indybay.org, “a noncommercial, democratic collective of bay area independent media makers and media outlets,” that the fire “was done in retaliation for UCPD’s violent assaults on vulnerable student demonstrators and to punish the university of kkkalifornia [sic] system for supporting the genocidal zionist-Israel entity.” University spokesman Dan Mogulof told The Journal that “there was no damage or injuries” from the fire.
Dept. of Education Reaches Agreements with CUNY, UMich After Concluding That Neither School Properly Handled Antisemitism, Islamophobia Investigations
The Department of Education’s Office of Civil Rights (OCR) reached agreements with the City University of New York (CUNY) and University of Michigan after concluding that both schools did not properly handle investigations of antisemitism and Islamophobia on campus.
According to Jewish Insider (JI), both agreements involve investigations dating back to 2020 and are the first post-Oct. 7 cases to be closed. OCR’s agreement with CUNY involved “nine open investigations alleging antisemitism and Islamophobia or anti-Arab discrimination at several CUNY campuses” and OCR criticized CUNY “for failing to investigate and address an alleged antisemitic incident that occurred in a 2021 class at Hunter College,” JI reported. OCR also urged CUNY “to reopen investigations into antisemitic or Islamophobic harassment,” per JI.
Regarding UMich, OCR found that they didn’t find any evidence that “that the university complied with federal civil rights requirements mandating that the school assess whether 75 incidents of shared ancestry discrimination reported from late 2022 to early 2024 created a hostile environment for students,” reported JI. Under the agreement between OCR and the university, UMich vowed “to review each report of discrimination from the 2023-2024 school year and to report on its progress assessing harassment over the next two years, as well as to better train employees to comply with federal civil rights guidelines,” per JI.
Report: Columbia Antisemitism Task Force Documents Faculty Members Who Allegedly Engaged in Antisemitism
The Israeli newspaper Haaretz released a report on June 16 detailing some of the Columbia Antisemitism Task Force’s findings, including allegations of antisemitism from various faculty members.
The Task Force found instances in which a professor told students to not follow the mainstream media because “it’s run by Jews.” Another professor reportedly asked a student with a Jewish-sounding last name to share their views on Israel’s actions in the Gaza Strip. Other faculty members also reportedly gave extra credit to students who attended the pro-Palestinian encampment on campus. The Task Force will be releasing a full report of their findings in the coming weeks.
A suave British gentleman in a perfectly fitted suit.
A Chabad rabbi driving a minivan with a “Thank You Hashem” bumper sticker?
In the new movie “Guns & Moses,” by filmmakers and husband and wife team Salvador and Nina Litvak, the main character isn’t the usual hero archetype. Instead, this brave rabbi wears a black hat and tzitzit, serves up dvar Torahs and wraps tefillin on Jewish men whenever he gets a chance. It’s a first for Hollywood, which historically has shown Jewish men as being nebbishy, neurotic and weak and, at times, demonized Jewish people in TV and film.
“As Jews, we resent these stereotypes,” Nina said. “In real life, we don’t resemble that. It’s overdone. It’s not really what being Jewish is all about.”
“As Jews, we resent these stereotypes.In real life, we don’t resemble that. It’s overdone. It’s not really what being Jewish is all about.” – Nina Litvak
The Litvaks are both baal teshuvas – Jews who were not previously religious but became observant in adulthood – who have always used their filmmaking skills to depict authentic Judaism on screen. From their hilarious 2005 film, “When Do We Eat?,” which is about a Pesach seder gone terribly awry, to their popular online group Accidental Talmudist, where they create content on Jewish topics and boast more than 1 million followers, Salvador and Nina don’t shy away from their Jewish roots. They fully embrace them.
Neal McDonough, Sal Litvak, Dermot Mulroney, Nina Litvak and Mark Feuerstein
Now, with “Guns & Moses,” which premiered at the Los Angeles Jewish Film Festival, the two are breaking new barriers and depicting the film’s protagonist, Rabbi Mo Zaltzman, played by Mark Feuerstein, as a hero unlike any other that’s been seen on screen.
“Here’s a movie about a mensch who is warm and approachable, but who has to step way out of his comfort zone to defend his community,” Salvador said. “It’s an action-thriller, and Rabbi Mo becomes an unlikely gunslinger.”
“Here’s a movie about a mensch who is warm and approachable, but who has to step way out of his comfort zone to defend his community … It’s an action-thriller, and Rabbi Mo becomes an unlikely gunslinger.” – Salvador Litvak
The Litvaks came up with the idea for “Guns & Moses” in the wake of the Chabad of Poway shooting in 2019, where a shooter entered the Chabad building on April 27, killed Lori Gilbert Kaye and injured Rabbi Mendel Goldstein and two other congregants.
“We sadly knew that attacks on Jews would always be relevant,” Salvador said. “We never imagined that there would be an Oct. 7, which happened during postproduction on our movie. The world in which we conceived and shot the movie is a different world in which it will be distributed.”
We never imagined that there would be an Oct. 7, which happened during postproduction on our movie. The world in which we conceived and shot the movie is a different world in which it will be distributed.” – Salvador Litvak
It could be argued that it’s more important now for a courageous and strong Jew to be shown on screen, in a time when antisemites are trying to take down Jews in Israel and all around the world. Salvador and Nina, who have been to Magen Am USA gun safety and training sessions, have seen an uptick in Jewish men and women – as well as Chabad rabbis – who are participating.
“These are kickass warriors,” Salvador said. “We’ve seen that from the entire population in Israel by necessity. Maybe we thought we were immune to that kind of danger in America, but we were mistaken.”
“Guns & Moses” follows Rabbi Mo, a Chabad rabbi who runs a community center in the High Desert and serves a diverse group of Jews, ranging from young children to Holocaust survivor Sol Fassbinder (Christopher Lloyd). In the opening scene, Rabbi Mo and his wife Rebbetzin Hindy (Alona Tal) are hosting a party honoring Alan Rosner (Dermot Mulroney), a local philanthropist who owns clean energy farms. Right after Alan makes a generous pledge to help Chabad build a new center, shots ring out – and a Jewish person at the party is murdered in plain sight. Chaos ensues, as everyone thinks they are the next target. After the police and local news show up, a tearful Rabbi Mo gets on camera and urges people to do a good deed in memory of the deceased.
While everyone assumes that what happened was a hate crime, and a white supremacist who hung around the Chabad is thrown into jail, Rabbi Mo refuses to accept that this young man is guilty. He sets out on a journey to get to the bottom of the crime and find the real killer – before they strike again.
The only problem? Rabbi Mo has absolutely no detective experience. He doesn’t know self-defense or own a gun, either.
At the urging of Hindy and the security guard at the Chabad, Brenda (Gabrielle Ruiz), Rabbi Mo purchases firearms and begins his training at the local range.
“This is based on the firearms training I received as a member of Magen Am,” Salvador said. “Rabbi Yossi Eilfort of Magen Am trained me. The cliché in movies is that when a civilian learns to wield a gun, there’s a 30-second montage of him shooting cans off a fence, and suddenly he’s an expert gunman. We made sure that the firearm use was accurate. The way Rabbi Mo holds his gun and what he was learning had to be authentic. Mark Feuerstein went with Rabbi Eilfort to their training.”
A scene from “Guns & Moses”
Throughout the movie, Rabbi Mo, with help from Brenda, Hindy and their children, follows the clues and gets closer and closer to discovering the identity of the real killer – all while driving around in a minivan, the typical car of choice for an Orthodox Jewish family.
The most captivating scene in “Guns & Moses” takes place in the Mojave Solar Project’s clean energy field, a location filled with reflective solar mirrors. In it, Rabbi Mo is evading an attacker with a hidden identity. “I was very intrigued by that location, and thought it’d be an incredible place for a predator and prey scene,” Salvador, who also directed “Guns & Moses,” said.
The entire film, which was shot over 20 days, has a Western vibe, or as Salvador calls it, “neo-Western … There are Western tropes and conventions throughout the movie starting with the place, with its scenery,” he said. “That location is where so many Westerns have been made in the history of Hollywood. But now, saloons and covered wagons and horses have been replaced by strip malls and power lines and minivans. They are iconic to the West in 2024.”
Though the movie contains intense sequences of action and violence, there is no nudity or profanity. “It’s not always easy, because as a director, I often get a great performance from an actor that includes profanity, and I have to ask them to do it again,” Salvador said. “The movie is kosher.”
The Litvaks, who co-wrote “When Do We Eat?” and their 2013 film “Saving Lincoln,” always write together. For this screenwriting team, it means that Salvador lays down the first draft, Nina does the rewrite and then they go back and forth until it’s perfected. “When we are actually writing the dialogue in a script, we can’t be in the same room together,” Nina said.
“We don’t write scripts – we grow them,” Salvador said. “I hand them to Nina, and she is merciless. It has to work on every level: Character, dialogue, motivation and the story arc. We are very hard on ourselves, and we bring different strengths to the table.”
“We don’t write scripts – we grow them. I hand them to Nina, and she is merciless. It has to work on every level: character, dialogue, motivation and the story arc. We are very hard on ourselves, and we bring different strengths to the table.” – Salvador Litvak
Once the two decided they wanted to make a thriller, they watched one thriller a day, a tradition they’ve kept up for years. “We studied the genre and watched new and old trillers,” Salvador said. “One thing that’s so interesting to me as a director is that this Chabad rabbi, an action hero armed with a gun, is one of the only characters in modern times that would unironically wear a fedora and a long black coat, just like a Western hero.”
The black hat and coat are typical garb for Chabadniks, a Hasidic sect that follows the teachings of Chabad-Lubavitch and the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson. Rabbi Mo is a Chabad emissary, like one of the many thousands of emissaries around the world, who goes to a community with Jews in it and holds services, hosts Jewish events and is there for any Jew in need.
Though Salvador and Nina are not Chabadniks themselves, they go to a local synagogue run by Chabad Rabbi Yekusiel Kalmanson and his wife, Rebbetzin Hindy. While the real-life Hindy met with Alona Tal, who plays Rebbetzin Hindy in the movie, to make sure she depicted her role correctly, the rabbi served as a consultant on the script and an executive producer to ensure that the religious references were accurate.
“We had a very early test screening for a handful of friends, and the rabbi pointed out that the menorah in the Zaltzman’s home was a round-shaped candelabra,” Nina said. “He told us that Chabad uses a very straight kind of menorah, according to the Rambam. So, we went into post-production and changed it.”
While shooting the film, Mark Feuerstein, a secular Jew who is convincing as the star Chossid, went to synagogue with the Litvaks for Shemini Atzeret. “He loved it,” Salvador said. “He has been to our Shabbos table a few times. All the Jewish actors in our film were excited to be a part of it.”
Both Salvador and Nina can relate to secular Jews, since they were once not so religious themselves. Salvador was born in Chile and came to the United States with his family when he was 5 years old. He celebrated the Jewish holidays, went to Hebrew school and had a bar mitzvah, but after that, he didn’t do much. Still, it was apparent that his family loved Judaism.
“My father said to me many times, ‘Sal, you don’t understand what the establishment of modern-day Israel did for the Jewish people around the world’” he said. “He told me, ‘Prior to having a country that could fight for itself, Jews had to walk down the street with their heads down and live in constant fear. After 1948, we realized we could fight for ourselves. We became a new kind of Jewish people.’”
Nina’s family, on the other hand, was completely assimilated. While she believed in Hashem, growing up, she never lit a Hanukkah candle or went to synagogue. “It was tragic,” she said. “When I was seven years old, I went to the Brooklyn Children’s Museum with my mom and sisters, and we ate at the kosher dairy restaurant there. I was fascinated that there was an entire restaurant just for dairy. I wanted to say to the waitress and the people in the restaurant, ‘I’m Jewish, too!’ That stuck with me. My whole life, I was curious about it.”
After they got married, Salvador and Nina grew more religious together, first going to a Reform synagogue, then a Conservative one, sending their children to Jewish schools and finally becoming fully observant. “I realized I liked the traditional Jewish practice and way of life,” Nina said.
Despite the rise in antisemitism happening around the globe, the two proudly visible Jews have had positive experiences with non-Jews, including the actors in “Guns & Moses.” “They reacted just the way we expect our non-Jewish audience to react: with tremendous respect and intrigue,” Salvador said. “Secular Jews in America can be so uncomfortable with religious Jews, but non-Jews are fascinated.”
Despite the rise in antisemitism happening around the globe, the two proudly visible Jews have had positive experiences with non-Jews, including the actors in “Guns & Moses.”
This is something the Litvaks had already discovered through their work on Accidental Talmudist, which puts out videos like “Who Is the Jewish Messiah and When Is He Coming?” and “The Deaf Princess Who Saved Jews During the Holocaust.” (They also co-edit The Journal’s weekly “Table for Five” feature.) “We were not surprised by the reaction from the non-Jewish people,” Salvador said. “They are very respectful and interested in Jews who take their Judaism seriously.” As Nina put it simply, “Non-Jews like their Jews Jewy.”
The Litvaks discovered this is not something that the rest of Hollywood believes. A secular Jewish man who works in Hollywood told Salvador and Nina he loved “Guns & Moses,” but he asked them, “Who would want to watch this? The Jewish audience is so small. And the Christians in America hate the Jews.”
Nina was taken aback. “I thought, that’s not true,” she said. “I wanted to ask him, ‘Have you ever met a Christian?’” “Hollywood is so out of touch with America,” Salvador added. While Salvador and Nina acknowledge that there are groups of white supremacists in America – and a few genuine ones who even show up in their film – the problem isn’t one-sided. “The horseshoe theory is true,” Nina said. “The far right and the far left hate the Jews. The only thing that can unite them is their hatred of us.” Salvador believes it comes from ignorance. “Many of these people who have been radicalized and taught through rhetoric to hate the Jews have never known a Jew,” he said.
With “Guns & Moses,” which is currently showing at Jewish film festivals and will hopefully be in theaters later this year, Salvador and Nina are striving to make a change and introduce a more accurate and uplifting representation of the Jewish people to audiences everywhere. “We hope this is a massive hit seen by a huge swath of America and the world,” Salvador said. “We want them to see that these old and tired stereotypes of Jews and Judaism are gone. Those bad guys in the news who happen to be Jews don’t represent us.” Nina said another goal they have is to “attract secular Jews to be more open about going to Shabbat at a rabbi’s house or synagogue.”
No matter what, “Guns & Moses” will surely be a gamechanger – and a positive one at that. “Jews are strong and warm and entrusted with a mission to be a light unto the nations,” Salvador said. “I’ve been praying every day that this movie should be a kiddush Hashem.”
Jallob by Samantha Ferraro
Cucumber Bourbon Cocktail
