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Jewish Journal

Connect. Inform. Inspire.

October 30, 2024

Sephardic Torah from the Holy Land | Courageous Rabbinic Leader: Rav Ovadia Yosef z”l

Sephardic Torah /

As we observe the 11th anniversary of the passing of Rav Ovadia Yosef z”l (3 Heshvan), we do so in the midst of a deep void in rabbinic leadership in Israel.  When I say “Rabbinic Leadership,” I don’t mean rabbis who can deliver beautiful sermons or write thought-provoking essays. I mean Chief Rabbis, whose responsibility is for the collective good and welfare of the Jewish people.

Pirkei Avot teaches: “It is not words alone that count, but actions.” For a Chief Rabbi, “actions” means legal/halakhic rulings, especially those that require innovative thinking for the benefit of the larger population.

While many will remember Rav Ovadia Yosef as the founder and spiritual mentor of the Shas political party, his true legacy is that of a brilliantly bold halakhic decision maker, especially in the years when he was the Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel (1973-1983). As Chief Rabbi, he distinguished himself as a leader whose responses to difficult issues was not flowery sermons or wordy articles, rather creative halakhic rulings that directly addressed the crisis and sought to improve the troubled circumstances for the people affected by them.

Two outstanding examples help tell the story.

Agunot from the Yom Kippur War: Without any way of confirming the deaths of their husbands on the battlefields of the Yom Kippur War, 1,000 women were left in a halakhic state of limbo known as “Agunot” – “anchored.” Halakhically still married, they were unable to move ahead with their lives. This tragic halakhic-emotional status affected Rav Ovadia deeply, and he spent three years reviewing each case individually. His eldest daughter Adina told me she recalls hearing her father crying every night in his study as he read each women’s individual story. He ultimately “freed” all 1,000 of the women to remarry, stating that “when it comes to Agunot, I do not take the stringent approach of others. I follow the path of my predecessors, who sought other sides and other sides of sides with all of their might in order to be lenient in the matter of Agunot.”

The Ethiopian Jews: While the majority of the rabbinic establishment ruled against the Ethiopian Jews being halakhically Jewish, Rav Ovadia’s creative historical-halakhic responsa ruled that the Ethiopian Jews were halakhically Jewish, making them eligible to come to Israel under the Law of Return. His groundbreaking ruling not only restored human respect to the Ethiopian community, but also paved the way for “Operation Solomon,” when tens of thousands of Ethiopian Jews were airlifted to Israel.

Rav Ovadia’s son – Rav David Yosef –  was recently elected Israel’s next Sephardic Chief Rabbi. He is a respected rabbinic scholar with halakhic rulings similar in lenience to that of his father.

May he fulfill his important position as Chief Rabbi with the halakhic creativity, courageous leadership and human sensitivity of his beloved father, Rav Ovadia Yosef, of blessed memory.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Daniel Bouskila is the international director of the Sephardic Educational Center.

Sephardic Torah from the Holy Land | Courageous Rabbinic Leader: Rav Ovadia Yosef z”l Read More »

How Alex Kor’s Parents Taught Him the Power of Forgiveness

Community /

Forgiving a Nazi, especially one as notorious as Dr. Josef Mengele, may seem inconceivable. Yet Holocaust survivor Eva Kor did just that. Not only did she forgive Mengele, who was known as the “Angel of Death” for his brutal experiments on prisoners, but she also forgave Dr. Hans Münch, a Nazi doctor who worked alongside Mengele and eventually extended her forgiveness to all Nazis, both living and dead. 

Her ability to forgive is one of the most striking aspects of her life. Her son, Dr. Alex Kor, a podiatrist, now carries on her legacy through his new book, “A Blessing Not a Burden.” In it, Alex tells the extraordinary survival stories of his parents, Eva and Mickey Kor, as well as the profound lessons their lives offer about resilience, strength and the power of forgiveness.

Dr. Alex Kor

Dr. Kor’s life itself is often considered a miracle. Raised in Terre Haute, Indiana — a place known for its Midwestern charm but also marred by a history of prejudice — Alex recounts his unique upbringing. While many children of Holocaust survivors grew up in homes marked by sorrow and parents burdened by trauma, Alex Kor’s parents took a different approach. While they didn’t shield him and his sister from the harsh truths of their past, they emphasized the power of forgiveness.

Kor’s mission, as detailed in his book, is to preserve his parents’ inspiring legacy. Drawing from his mother’s example of forgiveness and his father’s boundless optimism, Alex reflects on how these qualities shaped him, guiding him through his own struggles, including a battle with cancer in his 20s. He credits his survival, in large part, to the lessons of resilience he learned from them. “My mom’s endless sense of optimism gave me the strength I needed to overcome cancer,” he said, reflecting on how deeply her outlook impacted his own life.

Eva Mozes was born in 1934 in the small village of Portz, Romania, into a Jewish farming family. In 1940, when she and her twin sister Miriam were just six years old, their village was taken over by a Hungarian Nazi armed guard. The Mozes family, the only Jewish family in their village, lived under occupation for four years. In 1944, the family was forced into the Şimleu Silvaniei ghetto and soon after packed into a cattle car for transport to the Auschwitz death camp. After 70 harrowing hours without food or water, the family arrived on the selection platform at Auschwitz, a place Eva would later describe as “the single most tragic and cruel piece of real estate in the world.”

Upon arrival, Eva’s father and two older sisters were taken away, never to be seen again. Soon after, Eva and Miriam were forcibly separated from their mother, whom they also never saw again. The two young girls became part of a group of twins used as human guinea pigs in Dr. Josef Mengele’s horrific genetic experiments. Of the 1,500 sets of twins — 3,000 children in total — used in these experiments, most perished. Eva herself became gravely ill, but she survived – and so did Miriam.

Mickey Kor, born in 1925 in Riga, Latvia, was the youngest of four boys. His father, a shoemaker, had neither the resources nor the opportunity to escape when the Nazis invaded. The family was forced into the Riga ghetto, where Mickey’s father was murdered on the same day they were taken. Left alone, Mickey’s mother struggled to keep her sons safe. During the liquidation of the ghetto, she saved Mickey’s life by pushing him into a group of older boys selected for slave labor. It was the last time he ever saw her; she and the others not chosen for labor were murdered in a mass shooting. Mickey endured four years of forced labor in multiple camps before being liberated by U.S. soldiers from the 250th Engineer Combat Battalion in 1945.

After the war, Mickey moved to the United States, while Eva made Aliyah to Israel, where she served in the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF). The two met in Israel after Mickey placed a personal ad in Maariv newspaper, seeking a wife. Alex recounted their courtship: “My mom responded, and three weeks later they were engaged.” The couple moved to Terre Haute, Indiana, where they raised two children, Alex and his sister, making their home a place where Holocaust stories were openly shared.

Unlike many children of Holocaust survivors, who grew up in homes where the horrors of the past were kept silent, Alex was immersed in these stories from a young age. “By the time I was seven years old, I could tell you many of the stories I heard from my mom, but they were age appropriate,” he said. “I grew up in a neighborhood with 200 non-Jewish families. Nobody talked about the Holocaust there. I remember one time my sister was playing at the neighbor’s house and noticed the mom didn’t have a number on her arm. She ran back home and asked our mom, ‘Mrs. Baker doesn’t have a number—how come?’ And my mom responded, ‘Remember? We told you people did bad things to us.’”

When Alex was 24, his mother took him to Auschwitz for a reunion of the Mengele twins. Many of the survivors were dealing with severe health issues, the lingering effects of the cruel experiments conducted on them. Alex described the gathering: “We were all about the same age, and we played together. But years later, I went to Colorado for a meeting of the children of Holocaust survivors. I was the youngest at 32; everyone else was in their late 40s or 50s. Each person shared their story and ended with, ‘And this is why I tried to commit suicide.’”

He said it was a revelation for him, realizing for the first time how his experience differed from that of other children of survivors. “When it came my time to tell my story, I said, ‘Everything that happened to me growing up was positive. My parents’ survival gave me extra strength, and that helped me overcome cancer.’ They looked at me like I was the crazy one.”

“When it came my time to tell my story, I said, ‘Everything that happened to me growing up was positive. My parents’ survival gave me extra strength, and that helped me overcome cancer.’ They looked at me like I was the crazy one.” – Alex Kor

Eva Kor, known for her unrelenting optimism, dedicated much of her life to educating others about the Holocaust and advocating for forgiveness. In 2001, she was invited to speak at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute, the very institution responsible for overseeing the experiments that had been carried out on her. In her speech, she reflected on her journey toward forgiveness: “Fifty-seven years ago, I was a human guinea pig in Auschwitz. Much progress has been made in order for us to be here … I hope we can all learn from the past and begin to heal our pain.”

One of her most memorable quotes was: “Anger is a seed for war. Forgiveness is a seed for peace.”

In 1993, she reached out to Dr. Hans Münch, a Nazi doctor acquitted of war crimes because he had taken steps to save prisoners’ lives. In her speech, Eva recalled her initial meeting with Dr. Münch: “As we sat down to talk, I said to him, ‘Here you are — a Nazi doctor from Auschwitz — and here I am — a survivor from Auschwitz — and I like you. That sounds strange to me.’” Eva eventually asked Münch to return with her to Auschwitz in 1995 for the 50th anniversary of the camp’s liberation. She asked him to sign a document at the gas chamber ruins, confirming the horrors that had taken place there. Dr. Münch agreed.

It was during this time that Eva had a revelation: she had the power to forgive. “I thought about how to thank Dr. Münch, and I realized I could write him a letter of forgiveness. Then a friend asked, ‘Would you forgive Dr. Mengele?’ I thought about it and decided that I could. Well, if I forgave Mengele, I might as well forgive everybody.”

How Alex Kor’s Parents Taught Him the Power of Forgiveness Read More »

Spicy Flavor – Harissa Noodle Salad

Food /

Many, many years ago, a tiny little woman called Trinh Le changed my life. The first time, I was picking up my grandparents from her home after their acupuncture appointment. She took one look at me and said “No bread and no pasta for you!” 

Later that night, Rachel and I were strolling on the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. “She said no bread and no pasta. Do you think that means cake is okay?” I joked.

Avoiding bread is really hard, but eliminating pasta wasn’t difficult at all.

When I met Alan, he was training for the Chicago marathon and avoiding all carbohydrates, so our pasta habits were totally in sync. When I met Alan, my son Ariel was six-and-a-half years old and one of the first meals that Alan prepared for Ariel was macaroni and cheese, something that I had never, ever made for him. It made me fall even more in love with Alan.

The second time Trinh Le changed my life was when she reassured me that Alan and I would become parents without IVF treatments. After enduring two surgeries, countless ultrasounds, blood draws and hormone injections, Alan and I were “let go” by our second infertility doctor.

She was right and after her acupuncture treatments and much prayer, Alan and I soon had three girls for whom to make Mac and cheese.

One thing about little kids, they sure love pasta! Nothing goes better with pasta than dairy, which works for weekday meals, but not for Shabbat. That’s when Asian Noodle Salad became a staple of my Shabbat menus. It’s weird to make a dish that Alan won’t touch, but this one is a consistent favorite with everyone else, especially little kids.

For many years, I garnished my noodle salad with sections of roasted broccoli, snap peas, grated carrots and shredded purple cabbage, as well as roasted peanuts and sesame seeds. It looked beautiful and my guests loved it.

This month, I had a full house and a busy meal schedule. Our eldest daughter Gabriella had brought her vegan friend Sarah home for the holidays. So this vegan Harissa Noodle Salad was the perfect, easy dish to round out my menu and the delicious leftovers were just right for a quick nosh between meals.

There are two secrets to making this noodle salad awesome—adding baking soda to the water while boiling the pasta, then adding the harissa dressing while the pasta is still warm. The simplest garnish of roasted sesame seeds and green onions is all you need to play up these spicy, savory (and most comforting) noodles.

—Sharon

The simplest garnish of roasted sesame seeds and green onions is all you need to play up these spicy, savory (and most comforting) noodles.

Harissa is a hot, spicy, aromatic chili pepper paste that is indispensable in the North African kitchen. Harissa comes from the Arabic word for “to crush or pound” which refers to the grinding of chiles to make this bright red paste. The recipe originated in the Cape Bon area of Tunisia and harissa is so popular there that it is referred to as Tunisian ketchup.

Although my mother used harissa to flavor many of her recipes, I didn’t really start eating harissa until I was an adult.

However, harissa was the star ingredient in one of my favorite dishes from my childhood—my mother’s spicy tuna spaghetti. A few years ago, Sharon and I featured the recipe in The Jewish Journal. We described how canned tuna is sautéed with chopped onions, crushed garlic and tomato paste, then finished with a big spoonful of harissa. My mouth is watering just thinking about this flavorful dish!

My mom would make her spicy tuna whenever she wasn’t in the mood to cook or was in a rush to get dinner on the table. Alas, the idea of a dish featuring hot canned tuna is not an easy sell in the United States, so my kids won’t eat it.

Once in a while, my brother Moïse will cook a big, comforting bowl of this spicy pasta. He, my brother Solomon and I will sit around the table, twirling that red pasta around our forks, reminiscing and really enjoying the special moment.

—Rachel

P.S. Trinh Le changed my life, too. Ten years before Sharon’s infertility struggle, I was fighting to become pregnant. Sharon recommended that I visit Trinh Le and I soon became pregnant with our eldest son Sammy.

Harissa Noodle Salad 

Dressing
1/3 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup rice vinegar
1/4 cup sesame oil
1/4 cup honey
2 tsp harissa
4 large garlic cloves, crushed

In a bowl or jar, whisk together soy sauce, rice vinegar, sesame oil, honey, harissa and crushed garlic. Set aside.

1 lb spaghetti or capellini noodles
2 Tbsp baking soda
3 Tbsp sesame seeds
4 stalks green scallions, finely chopped

Fill a large pot with cold water and bring to a boil. Add the noodles and the baking soda and cook according to package directions.

Remove noodles from the heat and drain in a colander. Lightly rinse noodles with cold water.

Place warm noodles in a serving bowl. Whisk dressing and pour over the noodles, then toss thoroughly.

When pasta has cooled, garnish with sesame seeds and scallions.

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.

Spicy Flavor – Harissa Noodle Salad Read More »

Butternut Squash Recipes for Harvest Season

Food /

Along with the Jewish New  Year, Fall brings with it the harvest. Combine fresh ingredients from your — or someone else’s — garden to make delicious sides and main courses to celebrate the season.

“What better way to look to a future full of health, happiness and peace than by cooking with the fresh, healthy and flavor rich bounty that the harvest brings,” Danny Corsun, founder of Culinary Judaics Academy (CJA), told The Journal.

“What better way to look to a future full of health, happiness and peace than by cooking with the fresh, healthy and flavor rich bounty that the harvest brings” ­­­–Danny Corsun

Corsun said that CJA’s butternut squash soup, which is as fantastic as it is warm and sustaining, will fill your stomach and soul.

CJA’s Roasted Harvest Butternut Squash Soup

Ingredients:
2 large butternut squash
4 Tbsp olive oil
Salt and pepper (you can add cayenne or spicy seasoning for an extra kick if you wish)
½ tsp cinnamon
½ tsp nutmeg
3/4 tsp ground cloves
2 Tbsp honey
1 Tbsp brown sugar
1 sweet Vidalia onion, diced
2 stalks of celery, diced
2 cups of carrots, diced
1 clove of garlic, minced
½ cup Italian parsley
64 oz (2 Qts) of veggie stock
1 cup of half and half (optional)
1 12 oz brick of soft silken tofu, optional (see explanation below)

Cut skin off the squash; then halve, seed and cube. Put cubed squash in a bowl and add 2 tablespoons of olive oil, along with the salt and pepper, cinnamon, nutmeg, ground cloves, honey and brown sugar. Thoroughly combine and transfer to a baking sheet. Bake for 30 minutes at 350° until caramelized. Set aside to cool.

In a pot combine remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil with diced onion, celery and carrots; season with salt and pepper and sauté for 3 minutes. Add minced garlic and roughly cut parsley, stir and cook for an additional 2 minutes over medium heat. 

*If you are looking to add protein to the soup, pat dry, dice and add the tofu at this point. We guarantee you will NOT taste it in the final product and it makes the soup even more nutritious and creamier! 

Add roasted squash and combine. Add stock and stir.

Cover pot and bring to a boil. Then, lower the heat to a simmer and cook for 30 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes or so. Using a blender, puree soup until smooth. (If using an upright blender PLEASE hold the top down TIGHTLY with a dish towel while blending, so it doesn’t fly off, sending hot soup everywhere!) Once soup is smooth, transfer back to another pot and taste for seasoning. At this point, you can add the optional half & half; it adds a further richness to the soup, but it’s far from necessary. Keep warm until ready to serve. Garnish with chopped parsley, parmesan crisps or homemade croutons.

One of Amy Margulies’ favorite fall recipes is her harvest pasta, which she calls a “multi-sensory, satisfying” dish.

“It combines butternut squash’s sweetness with whole-grain pasta’s heartiness,” Margulies, RD, CDCES, LDN, NBC-HWC, owner of The Rebellious RD, told The Journal. 

This simple, one-pan recipe is perfect for busy weeknights.

“The roasted squash, shallots, garlic and cheese come together beautifully, especially when paired with a chilled glass of white wine, if desired,” Margulies said. “It even makes Monday nights not so bad!

Fall Harvest Pasta

Makes two servings.

Prep: 6 minutes; cook time: 30 minutes

Ingredients:
2 cups peeled and chopped butternut squash (purchase pre-peeled and chopped for a time-saver)
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 tsp miso paste, red or white
3-4 garlic cloves, peeled and minced (also can go with jarred here; about 1 ½ Tbsp)
¼ tsp salt
½ tsp freshly ground pepper
½ shallot, peeled and finely chopped
6 ounces oz whole wheat or whole grain pasta
¼ cup fresh Pecorino Romano cheese or Parmesan, shredded
Optional garnish: fresh parsley and balsamic glaze

Preheat the oven to 400°F.

While the oven is heating, place chopped squash in a microwaveable bowl and add olive oil, miso paste, garlic, salt, and pepper. Mix well. Cover with a microwave-safe lid and microwave for 8-10 minutes to pre-cook the squash.

Remove the squash from the microwave and mix in the shallots. Pour the mixture onto a roasting pan and cook in the oven for 15-20 minutes or until the squash and shallots are lightly browned. While the veggies are cooking, prepare the pasta according to the package directions.

Place the drained pasta and roasted squash mixture back into the pasta pot. Stir gently to combine.

Divide the mixture into two dinner bowls. Garnish with fresh parsley, balsamic vinegar, a touch of extra cheese, and pepper, as desired. 

Debbie Kornberg’s vegan spiced butternut squash recipe was taught to her by her mentor and friend, Moroccan chef Kitty Morse. Morse taught Kornberg the key flavors to Moroccan cooking.

“What makes this all-purpose side or main dish Moroccan are the spices [in] Ras El Hanout,” Kornberg, founder of SPICE+LEAF, told the Journal. Arabic for “head of the store,” Ras El Hanout is a blend of spices, including cinnamon, turmeric, ginger, allspice, cumin and coriander.

“Ras El Hanout is considered to be the crown jewel spice in Moroccan cooking because of its complex aromatic fragrance,” Kornberg said. “It can be used with meat, fish, poultry and vegetarian stews to name a few.”

Moroccan Spiced Butternut Squash in a Tomato Ragu

Ingredients:
2 Tbsp tomato paste
1 Tbsp SPICE + LEAF Vegan Broth Base
1 cup water
1-2 Tbsp SPICE + LEAF Premium Israeli Galili Olive Oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 pounds butternut squash, pre-cut ½ inch cubes are the easiest
2 celery stalks, chopped into ½ inch pieces
2 carrots, peeled and chopped into ½ inch pieces
1 (15 oz.) can garbanzo beans
1 (28 oz.) can diced tomatoes
2 heaping tsp SPICE + LEAF Ras El Hanout
1 tsp salt
10 sprigs Italian parsley, tied with string
1 Tbsp Italian parsley, chopped for garnish

In a small bowl, whisk together the tomato paste, and water and, vegan broth base. Set aside. 

Using your pre-cut butternut squash, try to make sure all of the pieces are about ½ inch in size. Cut down to this size if necessary. It will help with cooking time. In a large pot (or tagine) over medium-low heat, lightly sauté chopped garlic in olive oil for 1-2 minutes. Combine butternut squash, garbanzo beans, celery, carrots, ras el hanout and salt. Mix well.

Add diced tomatoes and broth mixture. Mix everything together. Place parsley on top. Cover and cook until the squash and carrots are tender with a fork, about 18 – 20 minutes, on medium-low heat. Discard the cooked parsley. Season with salt as needed. Transfer to a serving bowl or use your tagine, and top with fresh parsley chopped for color. Serve hot. Excellent with couscous or rice.

Butternut Squash Recipes for Harvest Season Read More »

Table for Five: Noach

Judaism, Torah /

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

Everyone on earth had the same language and the same words.

– Gen. 11:1

Rabbi Adam Kligfeld
Senior Rabbi, Temple Beth Am

In English, you can’t pluralize the adjective “one.” But in Hebrew, you can. The Hebrew “ehad” (one) can be rendered in the plural as “ahadim,” making it nearly impossible to translate in our verse. It can be “the same words,” suggesting this generation’s sin was excessive uniformity. Or “a few words,” suggesting this generation lacked sophistication in their vocabulary and powers of expression. It could be “of one speech,” suggesting this generation could have thrived, as there was shared purpose and focus — but they focused in the wrong direction. 

The plural ahadim appears only three times in the Bible. Here. When Rebecca tells Jacob to flee his brother’s wrath for “a few” days. And to show that Jacob’s love for Rachel was so powerful that the extra seven years he worked for her were, to him, but “a few” days. Those last two examples are self-contradictory. Jacob’s sojourn away from Esau lasted many years. Whereas Jacob’s working/waiting for Rachel went by swiftly.

The most creative midrash I know sees the ahadim as referring to God, who is described in the Shema as being ehad, one, singular. The people who built the Tower of Babel were scheming about, and rebelling against, the One. They rejected God’s oneness. They thought, erroneously, that human ingenuity and industriousness were all that the world needed. Join forces, build a ziggurat skyscraper, and achieve perfection. God foils their plan and reminds them that humanity without some extrinsic moral force, such as that which emanates from the Divine, is destined to crumble, along with their edifices.

Denise Berger
Freelance writer

Here’s the thing: When “everyone on earth had the same language and the same words,” they directed their energy toward self-serving purposes. They weren’t trying to make life better, either spiritually or even materially. The people we’re talking about were only a few generations removed from the Flood that destroyed the world, and yet their focus was not on learning from that disaster or trying to avert another one. Instead, they wanted to build a tower that would reach the Heavens. They wanted to be remembered not for having an impact but just for their own inherent greatness. They were arrogance personified. And maybe the Torah is teaching us that this is the natural outcome when everyone is thinking the exact same way, using the same language and the same words. There is unity, but not in a healthy form. 

In that case, having a multiplicity of languages and words — and perspective — is not a punishment, but an antidote. As a kid, I thought the people were being penalized for their haughtiness, and that having their project thwarted by the sudden confusion of languages was a way of cutting them down to size. It was, and it was also infinitely more. The point of Hashem introducing all those different ways of speaking was not to have us remain stultified by mutual incomprehension. Rather, we are meant to figure one another out, and in so doing we become capable of real greatness, serving others rather than ourselves.

Kylie Ora Lobell
Community editor, Jewish Journal

After the flood, when the earth was repopulated, everyone had the same language and could understand each other. But instead of using this unified language for good, the people built the Tower of Babel to try to reach the heavens and prove their greatness. They wanted to become equal to Hashem. Hashem saw this was not good, and he gave people different languages and cultures. Today, there is a push for unified thinking; some people say that if you don’t take their side on the issues, you are wrong. In their eyes, you are a bad person and lesser than them. But this is simply not true. Diversity of thought — and diversity in language, culture, background and religion — is something to celebrate, not to erase. We have a lack of tolerance for the other in today’s heated world. What we really need is to sit back and listen and respectfully debate instead of attempting to eradicate someone else’s point of view. It’s not easy to do this, to hear another person’s opinion, especially if it’s radically different from your own. But it’s much better than the alternative, which is silencing one another. When we do that, when we try to control others, we are back to that Tower of Babel complex; we think we should have power over people, just like Hashem. At this highly decisive time, it’s best that we humble ourselves, respect our fellow human and celebrate all the beautiful differences in this world.

Rabbi Elchanan Shoff
Rabbi at BKLA, Author of “Rabbi Shoff on the Parashah”

They spoke the same language — they said the same things. Netziv notes that God had already instructed humanity to “spread out on Earth, and multiply.” (Genesis 9:7) It led to a great sin. It was under these conditions that tradition teaches that Abraham was thrown into the furnace for not toeing the line. When everyone speaks the same language and thinks the same thing — this is a dangerous time for Abraham the Hebrew. People are different and unique. When everyone in a room all thinks just the same thing — that should be seen as alarming! It should be impossible! Rav Kook wrote: Any two human beings are as different from one another as any two species of animal! Once under this spell, where people clearly are not thinking as individuals, people have been ready to sacrifice the lives of others who don’t buy in. This has been so since the earliest days of human history. Abraham had another way. Win people over with hospitality and kindness. Wage war to defend the lives of captured relatives, not to win over adherents. When God descended to disperse those building the tower, He also allowed for human individuality to flourish. And it will always be so. The divine spark within humanity will never abide being shut down by groupthink. Even if it’s the most moral thing ever — if people are bullied into believing and saying just what society demands — it will fail. Reach others with Abraham’s open heart, not Nimrod’s cancel-culture.

Abe Mezrich
Poet & fiction writer

With everyone’s same words they talked about mortar, about bricks, about cityscapes. About plans for a majestic tower. 

With everyone’s same words they forgot to talk about why they had “migrated from the east” — what they were hoping to find, why they had fled. 

With everyone’s same words they forgot to talk about why they were afraid they would be “scattered all over the world.” Why their bonds were so fragile. Even with all the same words. 

With everyone’s same words they forgot to say so many things they needed to say. Instead, they built. 

No wonder God was disappointed. No wonder it didn’t last. 

 

Table for Five: Noach Read More »

Before a Consequential Election, LA Rabbis Provide Words of Wisdom

Community /

So, who will it be — Harris or Trump? Ahead of the upcoming presidential election, the Journal spoke with several Los Angeles Jewish rabbis about what’s been called one of the most consequential and polarizing elections of our time. 

We spoke to clergy who lead communities where there’s political diversity in the pews, a mix of Democrats and Republicans. As expected, each declined to specify how they’re personally voting, so we asked how they’ve been discussing the election with the communities they lead, if at all, as clergy, who are employed by nonprofits, typically refrain from endorsing political candidates or expressing political opinions from the pulpit.

Our interviews with the rabbis were held at a time when much has been said about how American Jews will vote on Nov. 5. Historically, American Jews vote overwhelmingly for the Democratic candidate, even as support for Israel has become an increasingly partisan issue. But for some Jewish voters, especially in the aftermath of the Oct. 7 attack, Israel is the issue, and they’ll vote for whomever they view as the more pro-Israel candidate, regardless of that candidate’s political party.

We asked the rabbis what message they’ll have for their community on the final Shabbat before election day and on the Shabbat immediately after. The consensus — regardless of the rabbi’s personal political belief — is that the American experiment, and its continued success, ought to be elevated above an individual’s political preferences. The synagogue ought to be a welcoming and safe place for people of all political philosophies.

Rabbi Nicole Guzik, Sinai Temple

Every month, Sinai Temple Co-Senior Rabbi Nicole Guzik meets with a group of women for a Torah study group. Recently, she asked the attendees what they want to hear from their rabbi the week after the election. Their reply: “We rather hear from our rabbi the week before the election.”

So, on the bimah this coming Shabbat, Guzik plans to address the week’s Torah portion — Parsha Noach — and connect it to this current, divisive moment in this country. Just as Noah was instructed to build an ark to withstand the flood, Guzik hopes her synagogue will function as an ark — or sanctuary — that will make people feel protected during this chaotic period.

After the election, “We can expect people to be both elated and angry,” Guzik told The Journal. “You can be at a Shabbat dinner, and it can be the person seated across from you is elated, and the person sitting next to you is in mourning. Our job as a Jewish community is to create a sanctuary that holds both people.”

“Our job as a Jewish community is to create a sanctuary that holds both people.” – Rabbi Nicole Guzik

Guzik leads a congregation that is overwhelmingly pro-Israel. Asked if she thought that meant much of her community would be voting for one candidate over the other, she declined to make a specific prediction.

“I would say there’s concern and positivity for both candidates, and I’ll leave it at that,” Guzik said.

On the day after the election, Guzik will join clergy in the Conservative movement for a virtual forum on how to frame the election for their diverse constituents. The program is organized by the Rabbinical Assembly, an umbrella organization for Conservative rabbis, and it will provide direct colleague-to-colleague perspectives about how to best support their communities during the week and on the Shabbat following the election.

“Our hope is that our members will leave the program feeling supported by the Rabbinical Assembly and each other and that they have helpful tools to engage their constituents,” Rabbi Noam Kornsgold, director of continuing education at the Rabbinical Assembly, told The Journal in an email.

People watch the presidential debate on September 10, 2024 in West Hollywood. (Photo by Mario Tama/Getty Images)

Rabbi Nolan Lebovitz, Valley Beth Shalom

In response to the assassination attempt against former President Donald Trump during an open-air campaign rally this past summer in Pennsylvania, Conservative synagogue Valley Beth Shalom sent an email to its community that condemned the moment of “vitriolic partisanship.”

While some appreciated the statement, there were those that interpreted it as a “pro-Trump message,” VBS Senior Rabbi Nolan Lebovitz told The Journal.

In Lebovitz’s mind, this disconnect illustrated the divisiveness of the moment — and the extent to which a synagogue can’t win when it comes to being a tent for all the strong political beliefs of its community members.

Nevertheless, VBS — like synagogues across the country — has attempted to be a place where people of all political beliefs continue to feel welcome. “We’ve really tried to temper the partisanship and make the synagogue feel like a place that’s welcoming for everybody,” he said.

In a follow-up with The Journal, Lebovitz said events like the World Series, rather than a presidential election, show the best of what this country has to offer. Here is the rabbi’s statement in its entirety:

“There is currently a palpable tension between the forces that pull us apart and that bring us together.  This is a season of acute political partisanship.  We are living through the throes of the most divided election season, bombarded by pundit opinions and campaign ads.  No matter who one votes for as an American and as a Jew, there exists great certainty that the future of this country, Israel’s security, and democracy at large hang in the balance.

“There is currently a palpable tension between the forces that pull us apart and that bring us together.  This is a season of acute political partisanship.”
– Rabbi Nolan Lebovitz

“At the same time, the World Series engenders patriotism in its most beautiful, unifying form.  Watching the mixture of races, religions, and socioeconomic backgrounds joining together for the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ before the games paints a portrait of the best version of ourselves.  The Fall Classic provides the perfect counterbalance to the election season.

“The truth is that this country is reflected through both experiences at once.  We are patriotic, and this is indeed a season of prioritizing and voting. Our community at Valley Beth Shalom is a reflection of the greater American experience in this regard.  We have members who will be casting ballots for each candidate.  We recognize the blessings of this great nation and the daunting challenges that lie ahead.”

Rabbi Adam Kligfeld, Temple Beth Am

Temple Beth Am’s Rabbi Adam Kligfeld leads a large Conservative community in Pico-Robertson. The community is diverse. So, typically, he avoids making any kind of political statements from the pulpit.

“I don’t use my bimah to get into the nitty gritty of American politics,” he told the Journal. “I talk about the values and ideas I see emanating from the Jewish tradition. Now, when there’s seemingly more pressure to use the pulpit for those things, I resist more. I believe in the separation of church and state.”

“I don’t use my bimah to get into the nitty gritty of American politics … I talk about the values and ideas I see emanating from the Jewish tradition.” – Rabbi Adam Kligfeld

Still, he acknowledged that at a moment when one’s political beliefs are so tied up in their identities, avoid politics altogether can be hard to do. The synagogue has tried to be a container for people to process tough political moments, and it has led to some missteps, he said.

Eight years ago, following President Trump’s surprising victory over Hillary Clinton, Temple Beth Am offered a physical space for its congregants to reflect on the results of the election. It wasn’t intended to be a partisan act; merely, it was to provide a forum for congregants to come together.

However, that wasn’t how it was interpreted, Kligfeld said.

“We got lambasted for that, I think somewhat properly, by people on the right who said, ‘No one offered me the same space after [former President] Obama was elected, and I thought he’d be disaster for Israel and the Jews,’” the Temple Beth Am senior rabbi said. “I think some of that reaming was legitimate.”

As a result, for the upcoming election, the synagogue has opted not to offer that kind of opportunity.

“We decided that’s not our field,” Kligfeld said. “Our field is holding space for religious gathering.”

At the most, the congregants of Beth Am will spend the Shabbat after the election saying a prayer for the country — as is customarily done in synagogues during services.

“We’ll say the prayers for the country this Shabbat, and we might add a kavanah [moment of intention] before the scripted prayer that says, ‘Focus your attention on what this country is and ought to be and continue to live and thrive as a Jewish community because of the principles this country is built on. Let us commit ourselves to the grand drama of making America what it is.’

“That’s the rabbi’s job, to heighten a congregant’s spiritual alertness, rather than saying, ‘Because I believe this and I can connect it to this verse, so should everyone,’” Kligfeld continued. “Even rabbis I agree with politically, I think rabbis who do that are abusing our inheritance.”

Before a Consequential Election, LA Rabbis Provide Words of Wisdom Read More »

Can We Disagree Without Fighting?

Cover Story /

Editor’s note: With the presidential election right around the corner, our community, like much of the nation, is as divided and polarized as ever. This Rosh Hashanah sermon by Rabbi Michael Gotlieb weighs in on this vexing topic: How to navigate our disagreements and bring more holiness to our conversations.

The Wall Street Journal publishes a daily, one panel comic strip called “Pepper & Salt.” 

A couple of weeks ago it had a sketch depicting a man and a woman walking their dogs. Describing his dog, the man says to the woman: “He’s friendly unless you start talking politics. Then he clicks into feral mode.”

Here’s a timely important question:  Can you talk about complex, serious issues such as: 

• The environment, homelessness, gun ownership, abortion;
• Who to vote for in the upcoming presidential election;
• Housing subsidies, transgender surgeries performed on minors;
• The COVID-19 pandemic, Israel and the Palestinians;
• Free speech, DEI, intersectionality, economic policy, social trends and countless other contemporary issues — with people you know and love? 

Ask yourself: Can you sit down and have a meal with someone you suspect — or know — you’ll fervently disagree with?

Will they be angry at you — or you at them — to the point you both feel uncomfortable?

Is there a likelihood someone will storm off from the table angrily?

Will it end up that either you’ll want to cancel them out of your life, or they’ll want to do the same to you?

Why?

What has happened to so many of us that we can no longer talk about serious life issues among our family and friends, even close acquaintances, without flying off the rails? Should we simply take the popular advice and avoid discussing those topics to begin with?

What has happened to so many of us that we can no longer talk about serious life issues among our family and friends, even close acquaintances without flying off the rails?

Let me share another “Pepper & Salt” comic strip: A father and young son are sitting on the couch. The father says to his son: “Polite company does not discuss religion, politics, gender, climate, diet and credit scores.”

Isn’t there something sad about that? Isn’t there something sad about not being able to broach debatable issues with people we know and are close to —  often our own family? What’s happened that we can’t vehemently disagree without reducing our conversation to name-calling and animosity?

What’s happened that we can’t debate without effectively reinstituting excommunication?

Why can’t we be more civil to one another when raising important topics for discussion?

Have you heard that Elton John has been harshly criticized and essentially cancelled, excommunicated, within certain circles because his “Rocket Man” song was adopted by Donald Trump, and Elton John didn’t object? (Former President Trump used the song’s title, “Rocket Man,” to describe North Korea’s Kim Jong-Un.)

Or what about groups that are cancelling, effectively excommunicating Taylor Swift for having endorsed Kamala Harris for president — boycotting her music and besmirching her name?

What is going on? We’re becoming vicious. Simply vicious.

How can we stop a growing culture that allows for cancelling out one another; how can we stop these re-instituted medieval excommunications?

What can we do?

To begin: It’s important to realize some of what we’re experiencing is not new. In the Talmud (recorded some 2,000 years ago), there are plenty of dismissive, mean-spirited verbal attacks that go on within the text. Name calling such as  Am Haaretz, (ignoramus), Sage’ nahore (dimwit), re’kah (hollow-head, or brainless).

Further: There are many prominent figures within our long history who were either excommunicated, or they themselves advocated excommunication and cancelling out others.

Here are two brief examples.

Rabbi, medical doctor and philosopher Moses Maimonides (d. 1203) writes about the value of being a centrist: “The golden path.” But he threatens Jews who don’t believe in the resurrection of the dead with excommunication (being cut off, cancelled).

The Jewish Portuguese-born philosopher Baruch Spinoza (d. 1677) was excommunicated because he did not subscribe to the notion of a transcendent God; he also didn’t believe in an afterlife and he held to the notion of natural law, not God-given law.

These two examples are not proud moments in Jewish history. I’m saddened to say, there are many more such examples. But we can learn from them, along with other examples where individuals or groups were cancelled, excommunicated.

One important lesson we can learn is that what we’re facing today is not new. If there’s anything that’s new, it’s the internet and social media platforms. The abundance of comments, along with the anonymity of social media, fosters an environment that leads people to become more confrontational and mean-spirited. 

As much as what we’re facing today is not new, it’s inspiring and instructive to note that we also have many positive examples within our religious tradition, where people have disagreed with passion, honesty and civility. If you pick up the Bible, or leaf through sections of the Talmud, you’ll find that healthy arguments and debate are common within Judaism.

The Talmud has multiple examples where lively, heated discussions and disagreements are cited, but they were expressed with mutual respect — deference and civility. The heartbeat of our tradition is founded on argumentation: civil, respectful argumentation.

Our people’s name is Israel — which is translated as “to struggle/argue/fight with God.” Abraham debated with God; Moses repeatedly challenged God; as did Job, as did King Saul and Jonah and so many others …

Our religion’s name is: Judaism, which comes from the biblical figure, Judah. Judah was a very decent man — in the course of his life, he essentially excommunicated himself from his family and left for a period of time; he stormed off and ran away. But he eventually came back and re-engaged. At one point Judah actually apologized to his daughter-in-law.

Hillel and Shammai (first century B.C.E.) are fabulous examples of individuals and schools of thought where passionate discussion and disagreement were encouraged, but with a high measure of civility. The Talmud will later record hundreds of disputes between these two academies. Through it all, they maintained respectful bonds with each other, in spite of their huge differences. But the two opposing sides could sit down with each other and talk. You get the sense they actually cared about each other. The Talmud records they married among each other and danced at each other’s weddings.

Let me offer you a more modern example where people disagreed with passion, honesty and civility: Think of Ronald Reagan, our 40th president, known as the “Gipper,” and Massachusetts Democrat Thomas Phillip O’Neill Jr., nicknamed “Tip,” the 47th speaker of the House of Representatives. What made them able to forge an enviable, deep friendship, defined by mutual respect, even though they fervently disagreed with each other? They were arch political rivals, Republican and Democrat/conservative and liberal.

Yet after airing their political disputes both publicly and privately, they spent many evenings enjoying a meal together, having a drink, celebrating and cherishing their friendship — true friendship. Could it be that both men acknowledged they had the same concerns and worries, but had different opinions and approaches? Could it be that both men were religious souls, one Protestant, one Catholic? O’Neill was the only one, other than immediate family, the president allowed in his hospital room while recovering from a bullet wound, after a failed assassination attempt on his life in 1981.

In his book, “Tip and the Gipper: When Politics Worked” (2013, just eleven years ago), Chris Matthews writes the following: “O’Neill entered Reagan’s hospital room, he nodded and walked over to the bed and grasped both the president’s hands, and said, ‘God bless you, Mr. President.’

“The president still seemed groggy … with lots of tubes and needles running in and out of his body. But when he saw Tip, he lit up and gave the speaker a big smile, and said, ‘Thanks for coming, Tip.’ 

“Then, still holding one of the president’s hands, the speaker got down on his knees and said he would like to offer a prayer for the president, choosing the 23rd Psalm.” 

We don’t know why Tip O’Neill chose the 23rd Psalm, Chris Matthews doesn’t specify. One obvious reason, it’s an extraordinarily popular, beautiful, and comforting Psalm. You know the Psalm. It begins: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”

Maybe there was another reason why Tip O’Neill chose Psalm 23.  Here’s my speculation: Maybe it was the verse in the Psalm: “You arrange a table before me in the presence of my enemies.”

Let me read it in Hebrew to emphasize the point: “Ta’aroch Li-fanay Shulchan Neged Tzoarai” The popular Hebrew translation is “in the presence of my enemies.” The actual Hebrew word, neged, usually translates as “opposite,” or “in contrast,” not “in the presence.”

The verse continues: “You arrange a table before me — opposite, or in contrast—to my enemies.” As if to say: [With your help, God] I am able to sit down with those whom I have opposite, or contrasting views — on whatever subject; so that we can articulate our differences and do so civilly while we share a meal — gathered around a table. 

What an inspiring thought. 

So, how can we become more civil with one another when discussing important, difficult issues — especially with family and friends?

Allow me to offer the following action points to consider: The first thing I’d ask you to think about the words from the Talmudic figure Ben Zoma, who asks: “Who is wise?” To which he answers, “One who can learn from others — [especially those with whom we disagree].”

I’d ask you to think about the words from the Talmudic figure Ben Zoma, who asks: “Who is wise?” To which he answers, “One who can learn from others — [especially those with whom we disagree].”

Here’s another consideration:  Ask yourself: Do you want to live in a world where everyone agrees with you? Everyone shares your own sensibilities? I assure you; life would be a lot less worthwhile if that were the case.

How about this point to consider: Is it possible that you might not be entirely right in your point of view? “I’m a little right, you’re a little right.” I’m reminded of “The Apology of Socrates,” or “Plato’s Apology,” written in the fifth century B.C.E. “The spirit which is not too sure that it is right, is a spirit that is willing, even happy, to be proved wrong.”

Consider this: Can you train yourself to think that the person with whom you vehemently disagree, like you, is also made in God’s image? That by itself can be humbling; that, by itself, can potentially reduce the heat and the friction between you and the person with whom you vehemently disagree.

Think about this: Can you self-reflect and consider that maybe you’re being too headstrong, if not fanatical in your own point of view? I’m reminded of a comment made by the philosopher Herbert Marcuse who wrote: “We run the risk of becoming fanatical in our pursuit of anti-fanaticism.”

What about this insight: Can you acknowledge the person — friend, family or acquaintance — is as concerned about a given issue as you are; they simply have a different approach as to how to go about solving it?

Last point to consider: Can you train yourself to differentiate between agreement and clarification? Sometimes it’s more important to clarify your disagreement, than it is to come to an agreement. Acknowledge you may never agree on a given issue, but at least you can appreciate where each of you stand, provided it’s done with respect and civility.

If Yom Kippur teaches us anything, it teaches us the value of looking inward, not merely upward to God, or outward to our fellow human being; it teaches us to examine our own behavior, including how we speak to one another. So, I ask: Can you talk about complex, serious issues that concern all of us with friends and family? Can you do it without flying off the rails? 

I want to conclude by reapplying the British Enlightenment thinker and poet Alexander Pope’s famous aphorism:  “To err is human, to forgive divine.” I would amend his famous saying as follows: “To disagree, and have a different perspective on important issues of our day, is human.”

To do so with respect, civility, and a desire to learn and discuss with others, especially people we love and care about, is nothing short of divine.

Rabbi Michael Gotlieb is the spiritual leader of Kehillat Ma’arav.

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Crossing the Rubicon

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Sometimes slowly and sometimes quickly, my body is deteriorating at such a rate it’s nerve-wracking. With a stiff wind at my back, I can still move like I did at 65. Without that wind, “Hey, guys, wait up.” 

Yes, I exercise and eat healthy. But nothing stops this rockslide. Even with a good night’s sleep, I still look like I’ve been lost at sea for a year. I lose most of my muscle mass if I go three days without doing push-ups. One day, off my cholesterol meds, my numbers shot up 100 points. I have a condition called dry eyes that feels like they’ve been crazy-glued shut while I’m sleeping. Upon awakening, I use my thumb and forefinger to pull my eyes apart.

I stopped smoking, drinking, and chasing women way before email was invented. And yes, kids, we chased women back in my day. FYI, we called them girls back then. If I saw a girl I thought was in my wheelhouse, I’d saunter up and start a chat. Now, if you try that and say hello, you’d best have a good lawyer.  

I used to collect baseball cards, but now I’m collecting age spots, sun spots, liver spots and my favorite, solar lentigines. Because of my sizeable fiber intake, I hold all business meetings from my Toto toilet.  After getting out of bed, I stumble and walk into the walls.  You’d think I was coming off a world-class bender. While looking into the bathroom mirror one morning, I bellowed, “Oh my God.”

I used to collect baseball cards, but now I’m collecting age spots, sun spots, liver spots and my favorite, solar lentigines…After getting out of bed, I stumble and walk into the walls.   

I used to have occasional aches and pains that came and went. Now, like squatters, these refuse to depart.

At least 15 years ago, I had all my teeth pulled out. It was, by far, the best thing I have ever done. I highly recommend it. If you don’t want to pay the dentist the big bucks, look on Amazon and get the “A Self-Instructional Guide: The Removal of Teeth.”  You can pull them out yourself while watching your big screen.

I spent some big bucks and had a particular type of implant installed that allowed me to snap my false teeth in. The snap-on system worked perfectly.  But when my wife and I were on an African safari, my lower inner gum line became inflamed. I spent the next week in Africa, barely able to chew soup without bottom teeth. Not wearing the teeth caused part of my head to cave in, making the photo of me on my driver’s license look good.

When my son saw a photo of me in Africa, he asked, “Did you have your teeth in?”  “No.” “I knew it.” There was a time when I would have been so embarrassed that I might have spent that week in my hotel room. But things change when you get older. You move from “I’m not going out like this” to “Who cares?” 

When I first got these teeth, I would not go in front of my wife or kids without them. I still don’t unless I must. Thank God I still have some sense of self-respect. I promise never to become one of those grandparents who pull out their teeth to shock or get a laugh from the grandkids.

When I returned from Africa, an hour after our Air France flight landed, I was in the dental chair. After scraping the denture part that had rubbed my gums, I was back in business, munching on rock-hard carrots and jicama.

Now, let’s get to the latest entry: my hearing. For years, my wife has been telling me that I am hard of hearing. I disagreed and asked her to speak louder and not from three rooms away with all the doors closed. So, to appease her, I made an appointment with an audiologist for an evaluation. After 15 minutes locked in her soundproof room, guess what? I need $8,500 hearing aids.

So here we are. To name a few, my hearing is shot, I have no teeth, I have tinnitus, an achy back, high cholesterol, cataracts, liver spots, dry eyes, and slow flow. I remain semi-delusional because I still believe that if I tried to chase girls again, with a stiff wind and my teeth firmly snapped on, I’d probably get one.

Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”

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Rabbis of L.A. | Rabbi Sholom Rodal Savors the View from Mt. Olympus

Rabbis of LA /

When asked to define himself, Rabbi Sholom Rodal, the voluble leader of the Chabad of Mt. Olympus limited himself to 32 words: “You have to do what works for you, your personal style, your capabilities. I am a people-person. I like talking, I like fabrengen, engaging. I like being haimish and not so formal.” 

While this may not sound like a Chabad personality, he is part of a Chabad family. The second of 11 children, his brothers all became rabbis; his sisters all married rabbis. He grew up in Pittsburgh — the Lubavitcher Rebbe sent his parents there as shluchim (emissaries) to teach in the Chabad school there. “My parents had a list of 50 choices,” Rabbi Rodal said over breakfast one morning. “Pittsburgh was the last place. The Rebbe circled it. It was a perfect match. My father became an iconic teacher there.”

As a teenager, Rodal learned in four different countries and was ordained in Israel. “When you first come into Chabad,” Rabbi Rodal explained, “you want to do everything, and be everything to everyone. Then you realize the Rebbe gave us a mandate — every rebbe reaches the soul of every Yid to try to get them close to God and maximize their true calling.” 

Around the same time the Rebbe sent the Rodals to Pittsburgh, he dispatched the parents of Rochela, Sholom’s future wife, to Los Angeles. The Rebbe told Rabbi Naftali Estulin that there would soon be a Russian Jewish community there. 

The Russians started arriving in 1974. “My father-in-law was here with Rabbi Shlomo Cunin at that time,” Rodal said. “He set up shop a couple years later to be ready to accept these droves of immigrant Jewish families that just had the clothing on their backs. He gave them cradle-to-grave services.” A generation later, Sholom married Rochela. While Rabbi Rodal was growing up in Pennsylvania, the Russian Jewish community in Los Angeles was becoming successful. People started earning enough for a decent life; they moved up, both figuratively and literally, to the Hollywood Hills. So many Russians settled in Mt. Olympus it would become known as Russian Hill. “My father-in-law always wanted a presence there,” Rodal said. “The Chabad Russian Synagogue started dealing more with seniors while the younger generation moved to the Hills, the Valley and Beverly Hills. They wanted a satellite center to service them.”

Rabbi Rodal, married and the father of a newborn daughter, was an ideal fit for the picturesque Chabad of Mt. Olympus (CMO). He described the setting the way a realtor might. “We have a unique shul: all-glass, set in nature, in the foliage and fauna that is Laurel Canyon. Very beautiful.”

The community is now about 60% Russian, or as the rabbi carefully described, a sensitive segment of his shul “want to be known as ‘Russian-speaking Jews,’ not ‘Russian Jews.’” Talking about his congregation, Rabbi Rodel sounds like a doting father. “They are very warm Jews,” he said. “They will help people, and they love Israel.” 

Over the last quarter-century, “we have influenced thousands of families and hundreds of young people who are now fully or partially observant,” the rabbi said. “We have a tefillin-selfie group. Every day we have 50 people posting pictures of themselves putting on tefillin to support and encourage each other. “We also have done adult britot on Russian-speaking Jews this past year. There have been a lot of breakthroughs.”

Those who know Rabbi Rodal will second his declaration that “we offer our heart and our soul. We are kind, patient and friendly. Personally, I am here for them. They can trust, and that is one reason we spend time together.”

How is this generation of Russians different from their elders? Rodal thought carefully and said, “I analyze this a lot because, personally, I am a chewer, an analyzer. I try to psychoanalyze. I think about it a lot.” They have, he said, “somewhat assimilated into the American culture. They also have retained a lot of the Russian-speaking culture. In many ways they are similar to their parents and grandparents, whom they love. But the main difference is that they are more engaged Jewishly. “They are more open. They still have some guardedness. They are somewhat guarded, having been assimilated for 40 years.” The newest Russian generation, Rodal said, is “very conservative politically, and very, very pro-Israel, more than American kids. They are also less assimilationist than American Jews.” But he loves working with them. “You have different types, the intellectual class (doctors and academics), then the machers or shvitzers (contractors, air conditioning people, tech people and appliance repair guys), and then you have the younger generation who are like everything. The young generation doesn’t fit these categories.”

Since moving in the late ‘90s, Rabbi Rodal has plunged into the history of the city with the pride of a 10th-generation Angeleno. He probably knows more about the history of Laurel Canyon than any lifelong resident. “Every summer, we have a Hike and Learn, a soul trek,” the rabbi said. “We’ve been doing it for 26 years. Sometimes we get 50 people, sometimes 10. We go into beautiful areas like Runyon Canyon, by us. We take a topic, and we just talk.”

“Every summer, we have a Hike and Learn, a soul trek,” the rabbi said. “We’ve been doing it for 26 years. Sometimes we get 50 people, sometimes 10. We go into beautiful areas like Runyon Canyon, by us. We take a topic, and we just talk.”

To summarize: “I love being with people, giving hugs and food.”

Fast Takes with Rabbi Rodal

Jewish Journal: Your favorite moment every Shabbat?

Rabbi Rodal: We have a special thing we do at Kiddush: When a new person comes in, one of our regulars gives a full introduction — from Sasha Baron Cohen to a regular Yid.

J.J.: The best nonreligious book you ever have read?

R.R.: Not so much the classics but I like more a fine analysis of a certain genre. I love Jonathan Sacks’ writing, especially his “The Letter and the Scroll.” I also was inspired by Elie Wiesel’s “Night,” and a lot of Holocaust books. Also “Tuesdays with Morrie.”

J.J.: Your favorite moment of relaxation?

R.R.: I love hiking. I love exploring the local region, especially tucked-away secrets.

Rabbis of L.A. | Rabbi Sholom Rodal Savors the View from Mt. Olympus Read More »

I Will Not Stop

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On Oct. 7, seeing the sickening footage of Hamas’ mass slaughter and violent kidnapping of so many innocent Israelis, something shifted deep inside me.  A Reform Jew who has not yet been to the Holy Land, that day I began wearing a Star of David, bought an Israel shirt and pins to wear in support of the hostages and commenced a small, personal crusade.  

Shortly after the heinous terror attack, along my local walking route in the San Fernando Valley, posters went up on lampposts for the 240 hostages Hamas viciously assaulted, dragged from their loved ones and shoved into hellholes in Gaza. You’ve seen these fliers; candid photos of once-joyful babies, concertgoers, moms and sisters, even octogenarian Holocaust survivors, each with a brief bio and a plea for their release. Topped by a stark banner — KIDNAPPED.  

I’d study these victims’ faces on my walks and send each one a prayer for protection, courage and safe return to their families. I wanted to do more, but what? 

I was livid when, on my subsequent walk I discovered some sick person or people had ripped down, keyed and/or defaced with crass, anti-Jewish scrawl nearly all these hostage posters. New posters went up, and they too were vandalized.

That same week Paul Kessler, a Jewish man I did not know, but about my age was murdered for merely holding up the Israeli flag at a street corner rally in a nearby town.  

Judaism — safeguarding it from those who seek to eradicate us — is thoroughly woven into my being. My grandfather, Al Sherman, told me his harrowing firsthand childhood account of barely fleeing the murderous antisemitic pogrom in Ekaterinoslav (near Kiev) because of his faith. 

My father, Robert B. Sherman, fought the Nazis in World War II, culminating in Dad being the first American G.I. in to liberate Dachau. The only Jew in his squadron. Both men became very successful songwriters, their words and music infused with themes of love, optimism, tolerance, peace, charity, community and lifting mankind.  

Seeing this blatant antisemitic/pro-terrorist vandalism right here in my neighborhood was shocking, but not entirely unexpected. Acts of antisemitic hate and violence are on a sharp rise here in America and all over the world. 

Tragically, once again, Jewish people have been attacked in their homeland, forced to leave their homes. The door slammed shut some 80 years ago by my father’s generation has been kicked open again. These hateful bigots, even in my quiet residential Los Angeles neighborhood, are emboldened to publicly rear their ugly antisemitic heads; to echo Hamas’ inhumanity with their own destructive hatred.  

Perhaps they believe we’ll forget about the poor innocent souls still held prisoner by sadists for 386 days, as of this writing. Well, I certainly won’t forget these victims and their families, and I won’t let others forget, either.  We must speak out and not allow evil to win.

I decided, in my small way, in my own hometown at least to push back on these vandals, to keep our attention and compassion focused on the plight and release of the remaining hostages.  I created and printed up a stack of my own fliers that read: “FREE ALL ISRAELI HOSTAGES NOW!”

My next walk, I taped my fliers to the same lampposts where the hostage photos had been ripped down.  One by one, within about a week, my signs, too, were defaced or torn down. 

So I printed a whole lot more. I have continued to post these on even more poles, used more tape. They rip them down, I put new ones right back up.  In recent weeks, I amended my message to read: “FREE ALL ISRAELI HOSTAGES NOW! — LET THERE BE PEACE”

Like most, I long for peace and lasting coexistence for the Israelis, Palestinians and all the Middle East. I believe this resolution can only begin, though, with the release of all the hostages.

I will not be intimidated by the hateful. I will not go away and be silent. I will not stop replacing these signs until the very last hostage is set free. 

I will not be intimidated by the hateful. I will not go away and be silent. I will not stop replacing these signs until the very last hostage is set free.

Jeffrey C. Sherman is a writer, producer, director and composer for film and television (“Boy Meets World,” “Au Pair,” “The Boys: The Sherman Brothers’ Story”).

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