June 26, 2019

Translating the Taste of Gazpacho

When I opened the first Mexican restaurant in Uganda and hired local cooks, not only had my team never experienced any of the dishes I’d put on the menu, most of them had never even eaten at a restaurant before.

As hard as this was to fathom, I stubbornly refused to compromise on the breadth of my menu and, as a result, had to train the staff in the face of enormous hurdles. It’s difficult enough to train new staff in an American kitchen, where the line cooks can relate to the taste of the dishes, but imagine trying to transfer “taste knowledge” to someone who doesn’t recognize the flavor profile of anything on the menu. 

For months before the opening, I assembled my newly hired team of cooks, bakers and waitstaff, many of whom barely understood English, and cooked the entire menu repeatedly and fed it to them each day. While my young hires watched me cook with looks of confusion and trepidation on their faces, I too watched them as they ate, trying to determine by their expressions, which were equally puzzling to me, how my food was settling on their virgin palates.

Of the many challenges I faced during those first months — staff who barely understood me, suppliers who saw only dollar signs in the color of my skin, and the predominant sexism that made being a female boss of a kitchen a daily struggle — probably the single biggest challenge was trying to teach flavors to people who didn’t share my taste memories. I learned the hard way that my Ugandan customers may not necessarily be able to cross the boundaries set by their own cultural food norms, but I also learned to convey the taste of a food by finding the similarities present in every cuisine. Strangely, it was my first experience teaching my staff how to make an Israeli classic that illuminated my understanding of a Spanish one.

Gazpacho, the Andalusian favorite that is eaten daily by harvesters whose long summer days at work in the fields are broken up by this cooling and refreshing soup, has become a staple on menus all over the globe. When the days turn long and tomatoes are ripe in gardens and markets, you’d be hard-pressed to find a restaurant menu without gazpacho on offer. Because my father is a gazpacho aficionado, I had sips of it from his spoon many times, but it wasn’t until I tasted one of the umpteen versions in Spain that I was moved to order it myself. 

Rather than the chunky, red version I had tasted in the U.S., one that seemed akin to eating an insipid, watery salsa, the gazpacho of southern Spain is a full-bodied, orange-hued affair, balanced and nuanced in flavor, bursting with freshness and vitality. On days when you’re too hot to chew, gazpacho is Spain’s answer to a smoothie: savory and bright, not eaten with a spoon or from a fancy bowl, but from a small simple glass, sometimes nestled in ice but more often straight from the heat of the fields.

I was instantly captivated by my first taste; Spanish gazpacho seemed to be an entirely different animal from any others I’d tried, yet something about it was hauntingly familiar. The scent drove me crazy for ages, the memory snagging on the periphery of my taste buds like a melody I was unable to hum — I’d catch a whiff but then couldn’t quite place the notes.

Then one day, while teaching my new staff how to make an Israeli chopped salad, it hit me straight in the nostrils. There it was — that perfume, the scent of green pepper and onion, of ripe tomatoes and the unmistakable freshness of cucumber, each vegetable in harmony yet singing its own tune, none overpowering the other. I quickly threw the salad in the blender, bewildering the bejesus out of my crew, who must have thought their new boss had gone mental. 

I added some garlic, the soft white middles of a few bread rolls we had baked the day before, and a large glug of the olive oil and lemon juice dressing I’d just taught them to prepare. And even before I tasted it, I knew by the tint that was intensifying like a sunrise from the bottom of the blender that I’d just hit the jackpot. Gazpacho, in all its modest glory, is in its essence a liquid Israeli salad, one with the bread you use to soak up the juices at the bottom of the bowl thrown in for fortification. No wonder I was in love with it at first sip. 

I added a few spoonfuls of the pico de gallo we’d made earlier for benefit from the mild heat of jalapeno, an ice cube to thin and chill, and ran the blender another 30 seconds. I poured it into glasses and drizzled it with olive oil and a drop of red wine vinegar to approximate the taste of the more traditional sherry vinegar.

“It’s katchumbari!” my student chefs proclaimed excitedly, recognizing the taste of the common Swahili tomato, onion and chile salad/condiment served with roasted meat all over East Africa. 

How far my Israeli salad-turned-gazpacho traveled from its past, when it was only a paste of bread, salt, garlic, olive oil and vinegar, carried by Roman legions along the shores of the Mediterranean and migrating toward its Spanish grandparents. It lingered long enough to pick up tomatoes from the Andes and almonds from the Moorish influence of North Africa, producing distinct regional varieties.

Gazpacho remains exotic even as it’s become common, as humble and unpretentious as its taste is extravagant, the culinary culmination of a thousand summers spent working in the fields, a single sip able to easily translate an ancient taste memory from one culture to another.

4 slices day-old bread, crusts removed
3 ice cubes
2 cups cherry tomatoes or 5 medium-sized, ripe red tomatoes
1 small Persian cucumber (about 1 1/4 cups), peeled, chopped into large pieces
1 stalk celery
1 medium green pepper, pith and seeds removed
1 jalapeno pepper, pith and seeds removed (optional)
1/2 medium yellow onion, cut into chunks
2 cloves garlic, peeled
1 1/2 teaspoons sea salt, more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Juice of 1 lemon
1 teaspoon red or white wine vinegar or sherry vinegar
2 pinches of sugar
1/2 cup good olive oil, preferably Spanish, plus more for drizzling
1 teaspoon balsamic reduction, optional garnish

Place the bread slices in a bowl with a bit of water to soak for a few minutes, then squeeze out excess water. Place ice cubes at the bottom of a blender and then add all remaining ingredients (except for balsamic reduction), including soaked bread. I use cherry tomatoes as they are sweeter and have thin skins. If using regular tomatoes, they must be blanched in boiling water and peeled when they’re cool enough to handle.

Taste gazpacho and adjust seasonings to your liking. Soup should be thick, almost to smoothie consistency. It can be thinned out to desired thickness with a few extra tablespoons of water. Store in refrigerator in a glass jug or bowl and stir before serving. 

Pour into chilled glasses and drizzle a bit of olive oil on top and a few optional drops of balsamic reduction.

Makes 15 small juice glass-sized portions.

Yamit Behar Wood, an Israeli-American food and travel writer, is the executive chef at the U.S. Embassy in Kampala, Uganda, and founder of the New York Kitchen Catering Co. 

San Diego and Palo Alto Among 100 Communities Celebrating Ohr Torah Stone Anniversary

Ohr Torah Stone Rabbi Dr. Kenneth Brander addressing an emissary group in Cancun. Photo courtesy of Ohr Torah Stone

More than 100 Jewish communities in 20 countries will celebrate the 20th anniversary of Ohr Torah Stone’s Beren-Amiel and Straus-Amiel programs over Shabbat, May 17-18.

Based In Israel, Ohr Torah Stone is a modern Orthodox movement founded in 1983 by Rabbi Shlomo Riskin, and these trained Shabbat emissaries from various communities will discuss Israel-Diaspora affairs.

Countries participating in the event are the United States, New Zealand, Germany, Brazil, the United Kingdom, Colombia, Mexico, South Africa, Sweden, China, Finland, Switzerland, Poland, Spain, Australia, Uruguay, Ecuador, Brazil and Austria.

In California, the San Diego and Palo Alto Jewish communities will also take part in the event. 

President and Rosh HaYeshiva of Ohr Torah Stone Rabbi Dr. Kenneth Brander said that the Beren-Amiel and Straus-Amiel programs were created to bring Israel and Diaspora communities together by training rabbis to strengthen Jewish identity and existence in communities around the world.

“This Shabbat we celebrate the integral role that these programs have played in bringing the Israel-Diaspora relationship closer on a grassroots level,” Brander said in a statement. “We’re very proud of our emissaries and the critical role they have played in building and helping to sustain communities in the Diaspora. We have graduated more than one thousand emissaries in the last two decades. While the emissaries offer a tremendous service to the communities where they serve, they also receive so much. They come back to Israel enthused about engaging the Jewish community along with new skills and perspectives on teaching, educating and serving communities that they put into use here in Israel. It is why upon return to Israel 90-percent of our shlichim serve in positions of Jewish communal service.”

Israel to send search-and-rescue team to Mexico in wake of severe earthquake

An Israeli rescue team working near the site of an earthquake south of Mexico City on Sept. 20. Photo courtesy of Zaka

Israel will send a search and rescue team to Mexico in the wake of a severe earthquake — the second to hit the North American nation in two weeks.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu ordered the operation and said it would leave for Mexico as soon as possible, his office said Wednesday morning in a statement.

More than 200 people have been killed in the 7.1-magnitude earthquake that struck central Mexico on Tuesday afternoon, rocking the capital of Mexico City and causing hundreds of buildings to collapse.

In addition, a delegation of 50 Israeli soldiers is scheduled to leave for Mexico City on Wednesday afternoon to assist in relief efforts.

Volunteers from Israel’s Zaka search-and-rescue organization arrived in Mexico in the hours following the quake and are helping local rescue forces, the organization said in a statement. In addition, engineers have been sent to local synagogues to make sure that they can safely accommodate Rosh Hashanah services, according to Zaka.

On the same date in 1985, an 8.0-magnitude earthquake centered on Mexico City left 10,000 people dead and another 30,000 injured.

Tuesday’s quake comes two weeks after at least 96 people died in an 8.1 magnitude quake that struck off the southern Pacific coast of Mexico on Sept. 7. The Mexican states of Oaxaca and Chiapas were hardest hit.

The American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee is also responding, supporting the search, rescue and emergency aid efforts of CADENA, its Mexican Jewish humanitarian partner. The response focuses on immediate rescue and relief including digging people out of the rubble, emergency psychology services and medical aid, according to JDC.

The JDC has also opened a mailbox for donations.

If not now, when will Dreamers be seen as Americans?

Immigration activists and DACA recipients take part in a rally in Washington, D.C., on Sept. 12. Photo by Joshua Roberts/Reuters

I am the oldest daughter of Mexican immigrants. My dad arrived in the United States in the late 1980s and was a beneficiary of the Immigration Reform and Control Act of 1986. He became a permanent resident and gained a pathway to citizenship in 1987. My mom became a U.S. citizen a year later, after she and my dad were married. I was born a year after that.

I grew up in Encino and attended Catholic schools. I traveled to Mexico every couple of years to visit family members and heard stories of my family’s struggles with living in poverty. I also saw the poverty in which many of my family’s neighbors lived.

[Larry Greenfield: Why Trump is right on DACA]

Here in Los Angeles, I saw the fear and anxiety in which many of my relatives lived because they, unlike my parents, were undocumented. The emotional and mental strain of their instability was agonizing. I watched, feeling powerless, as my cousins hid under the couch every time they heard a siren, in fear that their parents would get deported.

I noticed, too, the disproportionate finances of our households. My parents were homeowners, able to afford the private-school tuition for my sister and me, and able to afford going on vacation. My uncles lived in apartments and did not have the luxury of taking time off work for a vacation. They kept count of the years since they had seen the home they left for a better future.

I celebrated with my family as, one by one, my relatives became permanent residents and American citizens. We kept a tally of who was undocumented in our family, and as the number shrank, we naively came to believe that our worries were over.

But after the White House announced it planned to rescind the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA)  program, which protects children of undocumented immigrants brought to the U.S. by their parents, many of those worries began to creep up. Not for myself, not for my family, but for Dreamers — the approximately 800,000 recipients covered by the program.

American all but in name, Dreamers entered the United States at the average age of 6, many even younger.

When DACA was established in 2012, its recipients were not offered a permanent residency or a pathway to citizenship. Instead, they received renewable two-year work permits and a Social Security number. Without fear of deportation, they entered the workforce and many enrolled in colleges and universities.

A Social Security number also offered DACA recipients the ability to obtain a driver’s license and to open bank and credit card accounts.

It is easy to take for granted obtaining a driver’s license when in California the law allows a person as young as 15 1/2 to get a driver’s permit. But having to decide whether to risk driving without a license is common for undocumented individuals. Not only must they live with the fear of getting pulled over or getting into an accident, they increase the risk for everyone else on the road because their driving skills are not fully vetted.

This is one of the ways in which the establishment of DACA benefited not only its recipients but the community at large. The access to a driver’s license has meant safer roads for all of us.

Another way in which the larger community benefits is through taxes that DACA recipients pay. A 2014 report by the American Immigration Council found that almost 60 percent of the DACA recipients surveyed had obtained a new job since qualifying for the program, and about 45 percent indicated that their earnings had increased.

While DACA recipients have benefited greatly from the program and have been shielded from deportation, recipients do not have a pathway to citizenship and therefore do not qualify for Social Security benefits. Nor can they apply for financial aid from the federal government.

As a result of President Donald Trump’s decision, DACA recipients whose permits expire after March 5, 2018, stand to lose the protection and benefits that the program provided, and now with the added fear that the government has the information on who they are and where they live.

Dreamers have grown up in this country with their right hand over their hearts, pledging their allegiance to the U.S. and believing in the promise of “liberty and justice for all.” The passing of the Dream Act by Congress is long overdue. Dreamers are American in all but name.

And if not now, then when will they be recognized as such?

Tracy Escobedo, a Los Angeles native, is the daughter of Mexican immigrants and a Jew by Choice.

Anita Brenner: A bridge to mexican art, culture

Painting by Anita Brenner.

Anita Brenner might be the most noteworthy 20th-century cultural figure you’ve never heard of but that’s about to change. An exhibition about her, “Another Promised Land: Anita Brenner’s Mexico,” will introduce Skirball Cultural Center visitors to the life and times of a major personality in Mexican art of the last century.

The show opens on Sept. 14 and runs through Feb. 25.

Born in Aguascalientes, Mexico, in 1905 to Latvian-Jewish immigrants, Brenner was a key figure in the Mexican art world of the 1920s and 1930s. She was not a painter or sculptor, but she wrote extensively about Mexico’s art and artists — many of whom were close friends of hers — at a time when their art was not well-known. In fact, Brenner coined the phrase “Mexican renaissance” when referring to the innovative Mexican art currents of the 1920s.

Her adventurous life was painted in colors as bold as the art and artists she wrote about and loved. Her book “Idols Behind Altars,” published in 1929 when she was just 24, was instrumental in publicizing the work of artists in her social/political/cultural circle, including Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo, José Clemente Orozco, Edward Weston and Jean Charlot.

Like her friends, she was a leftist bohemian who championed indigenous art and culture. The thrust of “Idols Behind Altars” is that if you (metaphorically) look behind Christian altars, you will find traces of the pre-Columbian period, and that the roots of subsequent Mexican art can be seen in the crafts and designs of native civilizations before the Spanish conquest.

Photo of Anita Brenner by Tina Modotti (1926).

Because she was raised in Texas as well as Mexico, Brenner was bilingual, and her interests and published writings — almost always in English — were stunningly wide-ranging. Among other topics, she wrote about what life was like for Jews in Mexico, emphasizing that Jewish immigration to Mexico was good for Jews and good for Mexico. The title of the show, “Another Promised Land,” is taken from a published article she wrote when she was 19.

As a young woman with no college degree, Brenner went to New York and impressed Franz Boas, a prominent anthropologist who had pioneered the idea of cultural relativism. Boas took her on as a student in anthropology at Columbia University, where she received a doctorate five years later.

In the 1930s, Brenner was a freelance foreign correspondent, covering the Spanish Civil War and sending more than 40 dispatches to several publications. In 1943, her book “The Wind that Swept Mexico,” illuminated the Mexican Revolution’s historical context in clear and accessible language. She also wrote children’s books based on Mexican folk tales — illustrated by Jean Charlot, a former beau who remained a lifelong friend and collaborator — and countless travel pieces, trying to promote U.S. tourism to Mexico.

And, by the way, Brenner did all this while raising children. At Columbia, studying with Boas, she met and later married David Glusker, a Jewish physician from Brooklyn, and they had a daughter and a son.

In late 1936, when Leon Trotsky was looking for refuge after his exile from the Soviet Union, Brenner wrote to her friend Diego Rivera, by then Mexico’s most famous artist, asking him to convince Mexico’s president, Lázaro Cárdenas, to grant Trotsky asylum. Exile in Mexico, of course, did not turn out well for Trotsky — he was assassinated in 1940 by a supporter of Joseph Stalin — but at least Brenner tried to help.

“Dance in Tehuantepec / Danza en Tehuantepec” by Diego Rivera (1935) is part of the Skirball exhibition.

“Another Promised Land” has five sections. The first, “A Jewish Girl of Mexico,” traces Brenner’s background and early years and how her parents came to settle in Aguascalientes before she was born.

Laura Mart, a Skirball curator who worked on the exhibition, said Brenner’s parents “didn’t really understand what it meant to be Jewish, so [Anita] had a tough time discovering her Jewish identity when the family was living in Mexico, but it was something she wanted to puzzle out: what it means to be Jewish.”

Because of the turmoil from the Mexican Revolution, the Brenner family moved to Texas when Anita was 11. “In Texas, she was the object of discrimination, first for being Jewish, but also for being Mexican,” Mart said. “That experience led her to want to promote good relations between people, not just between Jews and non-Jews, but also between Mexico and the United States.”

The show’s second section covers Brenner’s impact on art. “Idols Behind Altars” is illustrated with Mexican art — photos of the artwork were taken by renowned photographers Weston and Tina Modotti. The book’s text and illustrations also influenced famed Russian director Sergei Eisenstein’s unfinished film, “Que Viva Mexico!” Still shots from the film are in the exhibition.

Other sections of the exhibition deal with Brenner’s political and travel writing and her return to the Aguascalientes ranch of her childhood, where, in the late 1960s, she became an environmental activist and turned the ranch into a kibbutz-like farm.

“The vision of Anita Brenner and the cultural environment in which she was formed in the early 20th century in Mexico was based on the idea that art is transformative in personal, political and cultural terms,” said the exhibition’s guest curator Karen Cordero, a professor of Latin-American art, based in Mexico City.

Brenner firmly believed art should be admired for its beauty, but that it could also affect people deeply and change their views of the world. “That’s always an important thing to keep in mind,” Cordero said. “She was interested in the symbolic, emotional, even mystical qualities of art.”

Mart said a theme that runs through all of Brenner’s writings is “bridge-building.”

Detail of the mural “The Massacre in the Main Temple, Mexico City” by Jean Charlot (1922-23), which
is part of the exhibition “Another Promised Land: Anita Brenner’s Mexico” at the Skirball Cultural Center.

“The reason we decided to do this exhibition about Anita Brenner is that we see her as someone who spent her life building bridges,” Mart said. “And there are a lot of different ways you can do that. She chose art and culture as ways of promoting understanding and respect of Mexico.”

“Through all her work,” Mart added, “Brenner was saying: [Mexico] is a place of rich culture, rich heritage. And at the time she did this, there wasn’t a lot of information about Mexico in the U.S., so she helped change the conversation. … She was speaking to an American public who didn’t have a lot of contact with people from Mexico, and she was really the bridge between Mexico and the U.S., promoting goodwill and neighborly responsibility between the countries.”

“Take from that what you will,” Mart added, “given the current political context.”

Another Promised Land: Anita Brenner’s Mexico” will be at the Skirball Cultural Center from Sept. 14 through Feb. 25, part of the community-wide initiative Pacific Standard Time: LA/LA, an exploration of Latin American and Latino art in dialogue with Southern California, organized and funded by the Getty Foundation. 

The untold story of DACA’s Israeli recipients

Picture in your mind a “Dreamer,” an immigrant brought to the United States as a child and now living without documentation in this country. Chances are you’re not picturing an Israeli. But here in Los Angeles, young undocumented Jews from Israel are among those facing the looming threat of deportation.

President Donald Trump’s administration recently rescinded the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, known as DACA, with a six-month delay to provide time for Congress to plan a path for DACA recipients to gain permanent legal status. Whether that pronouncement sticks remains unclear. 

After a meeting with Democratic leaders and a swirl of messages out of the White House, some of them contradictory, Trump said on Sept. 14 he supports legislation to protect the Dreamers, and further consideration of a wall on the southern border would be done separately.

The policy was created during President Barack Obama’s administration in 2012 as a temporary reprieve to shield young undocumented immigrants from deportation. Trump’s Sept. 5 announcement has been roundly criticized by Democrats, many Republicans and Conservative, Reform and unaffiliated Jewish organizations.

There are an estimated 800,000 DACA recipients, the vast majority of them Latino, with 79 percent coming from Mexico. More than a quarter of the total live in California. At a Sept. 10 rally, hundreds of pro-immigration demonstrators gathered in Los Angeles’ MacArthur Park, many holding signs written in Spanish and waving Mexican flags.

Israel isn’t among the two dozen countries where most DACA recipients originate. But for various reasons — often having to do with fraudulent legal advice given to their parents — these young Jews are caught in a legal limbo, unable to receive federal student aid or travel outside the country.

While their status is identical to that of other Dreamers, they are different in subtle ways, as their individual stories suggest. For example, because the number of Latinos facing deportation is so much larger, they tend to feel more comfortable sharing their concerns and anxieties with one another.

Not so for Jewish Dreamers. For many, their status is an embarrassing stigma, something they would just as soon hide from even their closest friends. 

On the other hand, because Jews are often lighter-skinned than Latinos, they tend not to be subjected to the stares and derision from citizens who support the administration’s decision to eliminate DACA protections.

Furthermore, Jewish Dreamers tend to be better off financially than those from other countries, a distinction that provides securities — even if temporary — that others might not have.

In the end, however, all Dreamers are equal in the eyes of a government policy that would remove them unless a change is forthcoming from a Congress that is deeply divided on immigration issues.

Rep. Adam Schiff (D-Burbank), one of more than a dozen Jewish House members, is among those who favor continuing protections for all Dreamers, including those from Israel.

“The history of the Jewish people is characterized by migration in search of safety and a better future, and I believe our own experience teaches us to empathize with the Dreamers, although relatively few are Jewish or came here from places like Israel,” he said in an email to the Journal. “The administration would treat these young people as unwanted guests in the only country they know. But I view Dreamers as part of the fabric of our nation and believe Congress must act to ensure these young people can continue to live and work in the United States without fear.”

Below are stories of a few undocumented Israeli immigrants. They agreed to share details of their lives with the Journal under the condition that their last names not be used, and in some cases, that their first names be changed to protect their identities. Although the specifics of their cases differ, they share a feeling of being Americans first and foremost, and face an uncertain future.

‘I don’t even remember what Israel looks like’

Bar, a 16-year-old high school junior in the San Fernando Valley, has known for her entire life that she was undocumented.

“It did suck not to be able to go to Israel and visit when all my friends would go,” she said. “All my family is in Israel.”

A resident of Sherman Oaks, her parents arrived on a tourist visa in 2001, when she was 6 months old. Their visas expired a year after they arrived.

“We were hoping we could fix everything before becoming illegal. We had other people giving us suggestions and it was wrong … bad advice, and we didn’t have the money at that point to fix it,” her father, Ron, said.

Ron ran a clothing factory in downtown Los Angeles and insisted on manufacturing in the U.S. but had to shutter the facility because of the high cost of labor.

“We’re paying all the debts that society is asking to pay, and we’re getting zero benefit out of it,” he said.

“I’m from L.A. This is where I’ve lived my whole life. I don’t even remember what Israel looks like.” — Bar

Undocumented immigrants pay taxes but can’t collect benefits. He now runs a printing and packaging company that outsources to Mexico and China.

Bar’s mother, Karen, works for a catering business, serving and cooking food for weddings, bar and bat mitzvahs, and other big events.

Bar joined the DACA program late last year. Some of her friends know she’s undocumented and hope one day she’ll be able to join them on trips to Israel and Mexico. She took a driver education course and hopes to get a license soon but might need to apply for an AB 60 license, available for California residents regardless of immigration status, if her DACA status expires.

She’s been a member of the Tzofim movement (Israel’s scouts program) since seventh grade. Her younger sister and brother are scouts, too. They were born in the U.S. and are citizens.

Bar counsels younger kids in Tzofim. “They all tell me before summer starts, ‘We’re going to Israel,’ and I ask them how is that. Even the youngest kids tell me about their experiences in Israel and their family. I’m very excited to be able to go,” she said.

Bar works for a birthday party business where she paints little kids’ faces, dances with them and dresses up as characters from the popular Israeli children‘s show “Yuval Hamebulbal,” a dinosaur and a fire-fighting dog. After she graduates from high school, she expects to go to community college and transfer to a four-year university to study business and fashion design.

If the DACA program is canceled, putting her at risk of deportation, she said it would be “really, really upsetting.”

“I’m from L.A. This is where I’ve lived my whole life. I don’t even remember what Israel looks like,” she said.

‘This affects kids who are pretty much American in every way’

Eli grew up in Beverly Hills and describes himself as “a typical Persian-Jewish kid” in all ways but one: He’s in the country illegally. He was born in Tel Aviv and came here in 1991, when he was 8 years old. His parents overstayed their visa when their green card application was denied.

He earned a degree from UCLA, paying his tuition out of his own pocket, and hoped to go to law school but knew he wouldn’t be allowed to practice. He struggled for years with low-paying jobs.

“A soon as I got my DACA [status] in December 2013, three months later I got hired by a Fortune 500 company,” he said. “I knew I had the ability all along but I couldn’t prove it, because I didn’t have access to a real job.”

Now in his mid-30s, he owns his own business, offering “professional services” to corporate clients.

Outside of a small group of friends and his girlfriend, nobody knows about his status.

“I don’t want to jeopardize my business or do anything that can cause harm to that. In the Persian-Jewish community people talk, and I don’t want that information out,” he said.

Eli is a fitness enthusiast, spending hours a day at the gym training in Brazilian jiu jitsu. He considers himself a hard worker, a self-made entrepreneur, and can’t understand why people wouldn’t want him to be a citizen. After all, he said, he had no say in his parents’ decision to come to the U.S. and overstay their visa.

“You can’t blame somebody who didn’t commit the crime,” he said. “If you pull somebody over and their grandson is in the backseat, you don’t give the grandson in the backseat a ticket.”

He knows plenty of Iranian-American Jews who support Trump, and he doesn’t fault them for it.

“None of them go to KKK or neo-Nazi rallies or anti-immigration rallies. They’re pro-Trump mostly because of his pro-Israel stance, and they make good money and want tax breaks,” he said.

But he said he thinks a lot of them do have a racial bias.

“They look down on Mexican immigrants as low-skilled labor. They mow their lawn and garden their backyard and take care of their kids. … A lot of them probably think we should send them back to Mexico. They don’t understand this affects kids who are pretty much American in every way other than the fact that they don’t have their citizenship here, don’t have their green card.”

‘I’ll take my American education and I’ll go somewhere else’

Rebecca’s parents came to the U.S. when she was 12 years old. They planned to return to Israel after their B-2 tourist visa expired.

“When we got here, we started to feel like we wanted to stay here,” she said. They hired a lawyer who “ended up being a crook,” and their visa expired, she said.

Now 23, Rebecca has spent roughly half her life in the United States.

“My heart is in two different places. It’s hard every day to make the choice to be here. And it’s still a choice, despite all the inconveniences of being undocumented,” she said.

When she gained DACA status in 2012, “everything really changed.” The California Dream Act enabled her to receive state financial aid at UCLA, where she graduated with a double major in anthropology and Arabic.

While at UCLA, she participated in UndocuBruins, a research grant program for undocumented students and received funding to work with a South L.A. nonprofit that trains previously incarcerated people to work on urban farms in “food deserts.”

After she “decided that urban farming is really cool,” Rebecca completed a three-month fellowship at a Jewish community farm in Berkeley called Urban Adamah. Much like a kibbutz, the fellows live and farm together. This summer she worked as a garden educator at a Jewish summer camp in northern California and is now working with other UCLA grads at a startup nonprofit called COMPASS for Youth, which provides counseling for at-risk and homeless youth in Los Angeles.

Her undocumented status has inspired her to help others.

“I feel really blessed for that, because it’s opened my eyes and made me empathetic toward the stories of so many people that I wouldn’t have been able to empathize with beforehand,” she said.

“A lot of doors have been closed on me, and I had to push through a lot of doors. I got a lot of help [and] a lot of community support. … I’m grateful.”— Rebecca

While at UCLA, she was active at Hillel and in the Jewish community, but she had to navigate her place among the mostly Latino undocumented students and the feeling of guilt that accompanies a recognition of privilege.

“Ironically, my dad is also a construction worker, just like the dads of many of the undocumented folks that I know … [but] my dad’s been able to be more successful because he has resources, and he’s not Mexican, so he’s not looked at in a particular way. I look like a white person, so I don’t experience the sort of racist reality that comes with being undocumented in America.”

Rebecca’s mother is a self-published writer of poetry in Hebrew and English.

“A lot of [the poems] are about being away from home and being separated from her family. Her dad passed away while we were here, a few years into being here. So she wasn’t able to see him for the few last years of his life, and then not at his death, not at his funeral, and not now, many years later,” she said.

Rebecca was afraid of deportation, but becoming a DACA recipient “has given me breathing room,” she said. She’d rather move to Israel on her own terms than be deported, but hopes to stay here. She’s trying to make the world a better place in her own way.

“If America doesn’t want that, too bad,” she said. “I’ll take my American education and I’ll go somewhere else.”

Despite the fear that comes with being undocumented, “the immigrant experience is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said.

“I was totally uprooted and I had to cope, and assimilated to something that was 100 percent foreign to me. And that was really hard,” she added. “A lot of doors have been closed on me, and I had to push through a lot of doors. I got a lot of help [and] a lot of community support. … I’m grateful.”

‘The dreams come true here’

In the heart of affluent Beverly Hills, 17-year-old Jason harbors a secret. His family came from Israel when he was 5, and someone posing as a lawyer botched their citizenship applications and disappeared. Their work permits expired, and now Jason, his parents, and his younger brother live in the shadows.

His friends don’t know. Neither did his girlfriend, whom he considered marrying in order to gain a path to legal status. His parents actually pressured him to propose even though he knew “she would freak out, like, big time” if she found out he was undocumented.

Jason became a DACA recipient in 2015.

“I had no idea what it was,” he said. In fact, until that point, his parents hadn’t told him or his younger brother about their immigration status.

“They didn’t know we were illegal because we didn’t want them to talk to their friends,” his father, Avi, said. “Only when the DACA program came out, after talking to Neil [Sheff, their immigration lawyer], only then we told the kids.”

Jason plays guitar and plans to enroll in a music program after graduating from Beverly Hills High School. But his immigration status has complicated his plans.

“I do want to travel at some point, and if I’m not documented I can’t do that,” he said.

Returning to Israel is not an option, his parents say.

“I have nothing to do in Israel,” his mother, Ravital, said. “It’s hard to live there. Here, it’s an easier life. The dreams come true here.”

Daniel, their 13-year-old son, wants to be an actor. Because he’s too young to gain DACA status, he can’t get a work permit and audition for roles.

“Now that [Trump] canceled it, it’s a lot harder. It’s impossible, unless I get married to an American girl,” Daniel said with a laugh.

Ravital owns a skin care company, and Avi works in software development. “We do everything by the book, and we find a way to pay taxes on time,” Ravital said.

“We probably pay more taxes than Trump,” Avi added.

Many of their Israeli and Orthodox Jewish friends are Trump supporters, and they fear social alienation if their immigration status is discovered. “Before you called, we closed all the windows around the house,” Avi admitted. “The stigma of people who are illegal here is very bad.”

‘Remember the stranger and the foreigner in your land’

There’s a disconnect between Jews and undocumented immigrants, says Beverly Hills immigration attorney Neil Sheff, who speaks Hebrew and Spanish fluently. About half of his clients are Israeli, and he hears a lot of rhetoric against immigration reform from his fellow Jews, even those born in other countries.

“Their responses are usually, ‘We came here the legal way.’ When many of the Jewish immigrants came here, the immigration laws were so relaxed and the process was so much easier, everyone could come here the legal way,” he said.

“Their plight isn’t really acknowledged by the greater Jewish community, especially the Orthodox Jewish community.” – Neil Sheff

Sheff believes there are many Israelis living in L.A. without documentation, as well as Jews from South Africa, Russia and an increasing number from France, looking to escape their country’s rising tide of anti-Semitism.

“Their plight isn’t really acknowledged by the greater Jewish community, especially the Orthodox Jewish community,” which supports Trump because they consider him to be pro-Israel, Sheff said.

The Torah extolls Jews 36 times to treat strangers well, “for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exodus 22:21).

“It’s part and parcel of who we are as Jews to remember the stranger and the foreigner in your land,” Sheff said. “That should translate immediately to empathy for the immigrants here, whether they are immigrants who have been here for generations or just arrived.”

Netanyahu plans to become first sitting Israeli prime minister to visit Latin America

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu attends the weekly cabinet meeting in Jerusalem July 30, 2017. Photo by Amir Cohen/REUTERS.

Benjamin Netanyahu is planning trips to Argentina and Mexico in September that would make him the first sitting Israeli prime minister to visit Latin America.

Netanyahu is scheduled to visit the region before flying directly to New York to address the United Nations General Assembly on Sept. 19, according to The Jerusalem Post. He would return to Israel for Rosh Hashanah on Sept. 20.

“Latin America has always been friendly to Israel, but I think we’re at a position where these relationships can be far, far, far advanced,” Netanyahu told President Jimmy Morales of Guatemala last fall.

The Jerusalem Post noted the trip would coincide with the 70th anniversary of the U.N. partition plan vote, when 13 Latin American and Caribbean countries were among 33 states that cast ballots in its favor, paving the way for Israel’s independence.

Israeli ties with Argentina have improved considerably since Mauricio Macri won the presidency in 2015.

The trip to Mexico also sends the signal that its abstention in anti-Israel UNESCO votes last year, as well as friction over a tweet Netanyahu posted regarding the efficacy of a U.S.-Mexico border wall advocated by President Donald Trump, are not hindering ties between the countries.

Brazil, Latin America’s largest nation and home to some 120,000 Jews, was left off the Netanyahu itinerary. Israel and Brazil tussled for a year over the former’s envoy choices.

“Political issues are internal problems, but if an Israeli prime minister comes to Brazil, he prefers that the government be stable because no delegation wants to present a project that after a month will change,” Yossi Sheli, Israel’s ambassador in Brasilia, told the Folha de S. Paulo newspaper on Sunday.

Brazil is experiencing high levels of unemployment and social instability.

Shell added that he believed the past two Brazilian presidents, Lula da Silva and Dilma Rousseff, “were against the State of Israel.”

Ransom Call Alert

The other day I was in my car with my son when my phone rang. It showed a call coming in from Mexico, which as odd as I don’t know anyone who lives in Mexico, or was there in holiday. I didn’t answer the phone figuring if it was a call for me, they would leave a message. A minute later the phone rang again from the same number, so I answered it. On the other line was a woman who was crying. I was confused at first and simply said hello. The woman was whimpering, and asking me to help her. I put the call on speaker so my son could hear and I asked what to do.

He was also confused and we were unclear what was happening. I said hello and asked who it was, then a man got on the phone and told me if I hung up, or contacted the police, he was going to shoot the woman in the head. My heart was now racing and I was scared. I muted the call and asked my son what was happening. We were in a bit of a panic and I didn’t want to do the wrong thing. The man was screaming at me to talk to him and with a shaking hand I accidently disconnected instead of unmuting. I started to cry and the phone immediately rang again.

The man was now screaming profanities, telling me he was going to kill the woman, and if I thought he was kidding, he would kill me too because he knew where I lived. He told me I needed to give him all the money I had access to or she would die. It was terrifying, and too unbelievable for me to comprehend. I told him I didn’t understand and he told me where to meet him. I was to go to the bank, get money, then trade the money for the woman, who he said I knew. In a moment of sheer panic, I drove to the police station. We had been on the phone for 15 minutes at the point, and it was torturous.

When we got to the police station, my son ran in to get help and I kept the man on the phone, telling him I was going to get him the money. The police officer came out and listened in on the conversation. I muted the call and she told me to hang up. I stared at her in disbelief, telling her the woman would be killed. She looked me in the eye and told me to hang up. I did. She explained that it was a hoax, there was no woman in trouble, and it was a scam that happens many times each day. People were giving money left and right, getting duped by these callers.

She said he would call back and when he did, I was to say I would not give him any money unless I could speak to the woman. He called, I asked to speak to the woman, and he put her on. The woman was pleading for help and the police officer put the call on mute, asking me to listen carefully to the voice because the man demanding the money was the same person pretending to be the woman in trouble. I listened and it was suddenly clear they were the same person. I started to cry again, this time with relief that no one was about to be shot. I almost fainted.

The officer disconnected the call and told me they would call back three or four more times, and I was not to answer it. The first call came in. The officer explained that these people do this and are making a lot of money from innocent people who think they are doing the right thing. People have emptied out their bank accounts to save people, never to see their money again. She said it was good we came to the police and to not worry about the call. Nobody was watching us, or following us, or going to come to our home. We were not in any danger.

It was a shocking and exhausting experience and I share it here as a cautionary tale. Be very careful. It is fascinating what people will do for money. This is an evil scam but as we all know, the world is dark and scary and this happens in real life, to real people, with real consequences all the time. If you get a similar call, try to remain calm, go to the police, and get help. Easier said than done in the moment, but try. I am grateful to my son for being a pillar of strength, and for the LAPD for helping us. We are shaken, but keeping the faith.


PBS cooking host Pati Jinich’s Mexican-Jewish Passover

Matzo Balls with Mushrooms and Jalapeños in Broth. Photo by Ellen Silverman

Celebrity chef Pati Jinich grew up in Mexico City, where she spent Shabbat dinners at her bubbe’s house.

“When we walked into her house,” Jinich fondly recalls of her grandmother, “the first thing she had was a big, gigantic bowl of guacamole, but it was a Yiddish version, because it was a combination of chopped egg salad and guacamole. Next to that, she would have a big bowl of gribenes” — crisp chicken or goose skin — “with fried onions. And then she already had sliced challah. So you would grab a slice of challah, put the chopped egg guacamole mixture on top, and then you top it with gribenes.”

This Mexican-Jewish fusion runs deep in Jinich’s family, as it does for many other Mexican Jews.

“It’s become fashionable to do a Latin theme on Jewish foods, but a lot of people don’t realize that Mexican-Jewish cuisine is really deeply rooted,” says Jinich, who stars in the hit national PBS cooking show “Pati’s Mexican Table.” “It’s not just, ‘Oh, I’m gonna throw a chili in here, or some spices.’ There’s a full Mexican-Jewish vocabulary that has existed for centuries.”

Jinich’s bubbe also made p’tcha (pickled calf foot), but instead of serving it with horseradish, she served her version with pico de gallo.

Sephardic Jews fleeing the Spanish Inquisition first came to Mexico more than 500 years ago. Larger waves of Jewish immigrants arrived over the past 150 years, most of them from Eastern Europe, Syria and the former Ottoman Empire. Today, the Jewish population in Mexico  is close to 50,000, most of them living in Mexico City.

So the idea of Mexican-Jewish fusion is not something new for Mexican Jews like Jinich; it was part of life while she was growing up. For example, Jinich points to Gefilte Fish a la Veracruzana, which has a sauce of tomatoes, capers, pickled chilies, olives, cilantro and parsley.

“The Jewish community thought of using it for fish patties — gefilte fish,” she said. “So that’s a standard — a must — in many Jewish Ashkenazi homes. Instead of eating the gefilte fish cold with aspic, which you need an acquired taste to love, Mexican-style gefilte fish is served warm, in that thick, spicy tomato broth. And it’s really irresistible.”

Jinich, 44, traces her roots to Poland and central Europe — her grandparents fled pogroms and immigrated to Mexico City in the early 20th century. As a young adult, she became an immigrant herself, following her Mexican-Jewish husband to the United States 20 years ago. Jinich, now a mother of three boys, lives in Washington, D.C., where her television show, currently in its fifth season, originates in her home kitchen.

Although Jinich is a natural in the kitchen and on camera, she began her career as a policy analyst, focused on Latin American politics. But her passion for food — and especially the cuisine of Mexico — brought her to culinary school in 2005. Before becoming a chef, she taught Mexican cooking to friends and neighbors while living in Dallas in the late 1990s and served as a production assistant on another PBS food series, “New Tastes From Texas,” a show that featured guest hosts such as Mexican food pioneers Diana Kennedy and Patricia Quintana.

Jinich has published two cookbooks, “Pati’s Mexican Table: The Secrets of Real Mexican Home Cooking” (2013) and “Mexican Today: New and Rediscovered Recipes for Contemporary Kitchens” (2016). And her television show, which screens all over the world, has been nominated for two Emmys and two James Beard Awards, the Oscars of the food world. 

Pati Jinich. Photo by Michael Ventura

Pati Jinich. Photo by Michael Ventura

In short, Jinich has become a 21st-century ambassador to Mexican cuisine in the United States. But she brings a modern sensibility to the foods of her native country, which are being rediscovered with renowned chefs such as Denmark’s René Redzepi of Noma, who is opening a satellite of his famed restaurant in Mexico, and Enrique Olvera, who has been featured on Netflix’s popular series “Chef’s Table.”

Jinich sees the culinary world’s recent attention to Mexico as inspiring.

“For a long time, everyone took Mexican food for granted,” she explains. “It took this new cadre of chefs looking at Mexican cuisine and taking all the traditional elements and presenting them in a more sexy, modern way. Not only for the outside to recognize the richness and sophistication of Mexican cuisine, but also for Mexicans. Mexicans are so excited about their own cuisine. Now, it’s going back to the roots — sometimes to the extreme — and really highlighting what makes Mexican food so unique. And I think Mexican cuisine is having a very big moment. There’s so much to explore.”

With recipes such as Asparagus, Mushroom and Goat Cheese Enchiladas with Pine Nut Mole Sauce or Mexican Thanksgiving Turkey, Jinich has an approach that is more accessible than many of the chefs currently helming the Mexican dining scene. She lives by the credo that any home cook can bring the warmth and color of Mexico into the kitchen.

And although Jinich is Jewish, her recipes are, for the most part, Mexican. She did not grow up attending Jewish schools or eating kosher food. At the same time, following in the footsteps of her bubbe, as well as an Austrian grandmother who taught her how to make matzo ball soup (recipe below), she treasures the dishes of her Mexican-Jewish repertoire

“What happened with Ashkenazi food, which is sort of bland, is that it got blessed with all the warmth and colors and flavors of Mexico. It was like a gift to Ashkenazi cuisine.”

“Blessed” is how Jinich also describes her own multifaceted identity. Despite feeling “shaken” by the current political climate in the U.S., she sees herself as simultaneously Mexican, Jewish and American.

“I used to tell my children as Mexican Americans, you’ve been doubly blessed, but you’re doubly responsible,” she says. “You have to be proud about being Mexican, and you have to make Mexico proud, and you have to make your Mexican family proud. And at the same time, you have to be grateful to America and responsible as an American citizen. And one cannot forget the third element, which is about being a Jew and the Jewish values.”

It’s a recipe for life Jinich clearly embraces.


From “Mexican Today: New and Rediscovered Recipes for Contemporary Kitchens” by Pati Jinich (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2016).

– 1 cup (2 2-ounce packages) matzo ball mix
– 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, finely chopped
– 1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg
– 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, or to taste
– 4 large eggs
– 1/2 cup canola or safflower oil, divided
– 2 tablespoons sesame oil
– 1 tablespoon sparkling water (optional)
– 1/2 cup white onion, finely chopped
– 1 garlic clove, finely chopped
– 2 jalapeño chilies, seeded if desired and finely chopped, more or less to taste
– 1/2 pound white and/or baby bella (cremini) mushrooms, cleaned,  dried, part of the stem removed, thinly sliced
– 8 cups chicken broth, homemade or store-bought

In a large mixing bowl, combine the matzo ball mix, parsley, nutmeg and 3/4 teaspoon salt.

In a small bowl, lightly beat the eggs with 6 tablespoons of vegetable oil and 2 tablespoons of sesame oil. Fold the beaten eggs into the matzo ball mixture with a spatula. Add the sparkling water if you want the matzo balls to be fluffy, and mix until well combined. Cover the mixture and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

In a large soup pot, bring about 3 quarts salted water to a rolling boil over high heat. Bring heat down to medium and keep at a steady simmer. With wet hands, shape the matzo ball mix into 1- to 1 1/2-inch balls and gently drop them into the water.  Reduce heat to low, cover and simmer for about 25 to 30 minutes, or until matzo balls are completely cooked and have puffed up.

Meanwhile, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons oil over medium heat in a soup pot. Add the onion, garlic and chilies and sauté for 4 to 5 minutes, until they have softened a bit. Stir in the sliced mushrooms, add 3/4 teaspoon salt, stir and cover the pan. Steam the mushrooms for about 6 to 8 minutes, remove the lid and continue to cook uncovered until the liquid in the pan evaporates. Add the chicken broth and bring to a simmer. Taste and adjust seasoning. Add the cooked matzo balls (use a slotted spoon if transferring from their cooking water) and serve.

Makes 8 servings.


A standard in Jewish homes across Mexico. Courtesy of Pati Jinich.

– Gefilte Fish Patties (recipe follows)
– 3 tablespoons safflower or corn oil
– 1/2 cup white onion, chopped
– 1 can (28 ounces) crushed tomatoes
– 3 cups water
– 2 tablespoons ketchup
– 1 teaspoon salt, or to taste
– 1/4 teaspoon ground white pepper, or to taste
– 1 cup Manzanilla olives stuffed with pimientos
– 8 pepperoncini peppers in vinegar brine/chiles güeros en escabeche, or more to taste
– 1 tablespoon capers

Prepare Gefilte Fish Patties; set aside.

Heat the oil in a large cooking pot over medium-high heat. Add the chopped onion, and let it cook for 5 to 6 minutes, stirring, until soft and translucent. Pour the crushed tomatoes into the pot, stir and let the mix season and thicken for about 6 minutes. Incorporate 3 cups water, 2 tablespoons ketchup, salt and white pepper, give it a good stir and bring to a boil. Turn down the heat to low, to get a gentle simmer, as you roll the Gefilte Fish Patties.

Place a small bowl with lukewarm water to the side of the simmering tomato broth. Start making the patties, about 2 1/2 inches by 1 inch and about 3/4-inch thick. Wet your hands as necessary, so the fish mixture will not stick to your hands. As you make them, slide them gently into the simmering broth. Make sure it is simmering and raise the heat to medium if necessary to keep a steady simmer.

Once you finish making the patties, cover the pot and turn the heat to low. Cook them covered for 25 minutes. Take off the lid, incorporate the Manzanilla olives, pepperoncini peppers and capers. Give it a soft stir and simmer uncovered for 20 more minutes, so the gefilte fish will be thoroughly cooked and the broth will have seasoned and thickened nicely. Serve hot with slices of challah and spiced-up pickles.

Makes about 20 patties.


– 1 pound red snapper fillets, no skin or bones
– 1 pound flounder fillets, no skin or bones
– 1 white onion (about 1/2 pound), quartered
– 2 carrots (about 1/4 pound), peeled and roughly chopped
– 3 eggs
– 1/2 cup matzo meal
– 2 teaspoons salt, or to taste
– 1/2 teaspoon ground white pepper, or to taste

Rinse the fish fillets under a thin stream of cool water. Slice into smaller pieces and place in the food processor. Pulse for 5 to 10 seconds until fish is finely chopped but hasn’t turned into a paste. Turn fish mixture onto a large mixing bowl.

Place the onion, carrots, eggs, matzo meal, salt and white pepper in same bowl of food processor. Process until smooth and turn onto the fish mixture. Combine thoroughly.

Lara Rabinovitch Neuman works for Google as a food writer and regularly teaches food culture courses at the Skirball Cultural Center.

Netanyahu: Israel’s ties with Mexico ‘stronger than any passing misunderstanding’

Mexican President Enrique Pena Nieto speaks with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu at the state funeral for Shimon Peres in September 2016.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu of Israel said his nation and Mexico “will continue to have good relations” in the aftermath of a tweet in which he was seen as supporting President Donald Trump’s plan to build a wall on the U.S.-Mexico border to keep out illegal immigrants.

The tweet has caused a diplomatic uproar between Israel and Mexico since it was posted Saturday.

“I take this opportunity to explain or clarify what I did and did not say in my tweet the other night. I thought you’d be interested in that,” Netanyahu said Tuesday morning in an address to the CyberTech conference in Tel Aviv in remarks that were distributed to reporters by his office.

“I did point out the remarkable success of Israel’s security fence. But I did not comment about U.S.-Mexico relations. We’ve had, and will continue to have, good relations with Mexico. And I believe our ties are much stronger than any passing disagreement or misunderstanding. And in fact, I’ve had a long, fruitful and very friendly relationship with Mexican President Enrique Pena Nieto and it will continue.”

Nieto and Israel’s president, Reuven Rivlin, were scheduled to talk by telephone on Tuesday to resolve the diplomatic storm brewing between the two countries. Mexico summoned Israel’s ambassador for a meeting with its foreign minister on Monday night.

Earlier Monday, Mexican Foreign Minister Luis Videgaray called on Netanyahu to apologize for the tweet, Haaretz reported.

“We hope that the Israeli government will have the sensitivity to correct Netanyahu’s statement,” said Videgaray before his meeting with the Israeli diplomat Monday evening.

The summons, which the Foreign Ministry of Israel on Monday called an invitation, came a day after Mexico’s Foreign Ministry said in a statement: “The Foreign Ministry expressed to the government of Israel, via its ambassador in Mexico, its profound astonishment, rejection and disappointment over Prime Minister Netanyahu’s message on Twitter about the construction of a border wall. Mexico is a friend of Israel and should be treated as such by its Prime Minister.”

On Saturday morning, Netanyahu said on Twitter that “President Trump is right.”

“I built a wall along Israel’s southern border. It stopped all illegal immigration. Great success. Great idea,” Netanyahu said in a tweet that featured the American and Israeli flag icons. The White House later retweeted the message.

Following Mexico’s criticism of Israel, the Prime Minister’s Office and Israel’s Foreign Ministry issued a statement to clarify the original tweet, saying that Netanyahu “was addressing Israel’s unique circumstances and the important experience we have and which we are willing to share with other nations. There was no attempt to voice an opinion regarding U.S.-Mexico ties.”

Where are the Mexican rapists?

After two weeks of traveling through Mexico, I feel a duty to report that I did not encounter a single rapist. 

Potential Zika? Maybe. By my second day on the coast of Tulum, I counted 75 bug bites — despite the Deet and mosquito nets. But rapists? Not one. The elephant absent from the circus.

According to what we hear about Mexico, it would be reasonable to worry that American sisters traveling unescorted through the country might be placing themselves in peril. But let the record show that my sister and I were so utterly ignored by the country’s infamous rapists that my sister remarked early in our journey, “Nobody’s even hitting on us!” 

I will allow, of course, for the possibility that we have an inflated sense of our own attractiveness — but still: We were two flesh-and-blood-females traveling alone and wearing lipstick and we didn’t even get so much as a whistle. Frankly, I did better in Burma.   

What is most disorienting about Mexico is how contrary the experience of being there is to the perception many Americans (including one presidential candidate) have of it. There is persistent hysteria about Mexico’s dark underbelly — a place of lawlessness, corruption, organized crime, drug trafficking and dangerous cartels. And while it’s true that some of these issues present real challenges to Mexico’s striving democratic republic, the country also deserves a reputation more expansive than that it consists of marauding wannabe immigrants, on the one hand, and spring breakers drinking in Cancun, on the other. 

I’ve traveled to Mexico twice in recent years — first in 2013, with the international development organization American Jewish World Service (AJWS), and again as a tourist this summer. This does not qualify me as an expert on Mexican society, but my visits have given me an authentic and meaningful glimpse into Mexico’s history, treasures, struggles and dreams. I visited Mayan ruins, walked the cobblestone streets of San Miguel de Allende, washed dishes with an indigenous community in the Sierra Madre, swam in a fresh-water lagoon, dined in Michelin-worthy restaurants and slept in a bedbug-infested cabana on the beach. So I’ll let you in on an open secret: Mexico is awesome. It is cosmopolitan, diverse, culturally rich, gastronomically inspired and breathtakingly beautiful. The people — and sometimes, especially the men — are kind and thoughtful and helpful in ways that would shock me to experience in the U.S. 

My sister began our recent trip with moderate concern. After I phoned her, ecstatic that The New York Times’ top destination for 2016 would be the best choice for our annual trip together, the first thing she did was visit the U.S. State Department website to search for travel advisories. There was nothing very alarming, though: Mexico, according to the State Department site, is mostly safe, except for some rural areas it suggests Americans avoid. Still, colleagues and friends warned my sister of kidnappings and violent crime. I tried to comfort her with the fact that we are neither important enough nor rich enough to be worthy victims.

What we found, instead of menace, were signs of a growing, world-class economy. During our first dinner in Mexico City, in the hip, bourgeois neighborhood of Roma Norte, we found ourselves engrossed in conversation with two worldly locals at the adjacent table: the Argentine-born head of Google Mexico and a French-born executive at Nestlé. They presented a portrait of Mexico fast on the rise, a place of golden opportunity. 

Others agree: Last April’s Milken Global Conference included the panel “Mexico as a Global Powerhouse,” one of a very few Michael Milken chose to moderate. And yet, those are not the stories of Mexico that make headlines.

None of this is to say that Mexico is a flawless country. About half its population lives below Mexico’s national poverty line (about $158 per month in cities, less in rural areas) and one man, Carlos Slim, among the world’s richest people, possesses personal wealth equivalent to about 6 percent of Mexico’s GDP. Like all countries run by human beings, Mexico has a long way to go before it realizes a truly just, equal and free society. 

On the AJWS trip in 2013, I met with communities and NGOs on the hopeful side of this struggle: Naaxwiin, for example, is a collective devoted to women’s health, reproductive and political rights; Ser Mixe is an indigenous community committed to sustainable living; ProDESC, a legal defense organization, takes on great risk in order to represent underserved communities in the fight to protect their social, cultural and political rights — especially in the face of growing multinational mining interests. But this is the good news! Instead of fleeing to the United States, plenty of hardworking, talented Mexicans are staying put to help build their country into something better.

Mexico is so appealing, I met more than a few Israelis who have decamped to the dreamy Yucatan Peninsula, with its turquoise sea and silken powder sand, in order to build hotels, condos and beach resorts. 

But the most memorable moments of my travels came in quiet acts of kindness: like when Marvin, a cab driver, waited for over two hours (at no additional cost) while I dealt with flight delays and other mishegoss; or when a nameless boy and his 5-year-old sister stopped in the sweltering heat to help me untangle my jacket from my bike chain. 

To some, peril. To others, paradise. 

Danielle Berrin is a senior writer and columnist at the Jewish Journal.

Mexico, Israel target tripling annual trade to $2.1 billion

The commercial ties between Mexico and Israel will be expanded, aiming at tripling current trade figures, according to Israel’s ambassador in Mexico.

In 2015, two-way trade between the nations amounted to $700 million, a 300 percent increase since the nations signed a trade agreement in 2000.

“This is a very timely moment for the relationship between Mexico and Israel, which is expressed at political, economic and cultural levels,” the ambassador, Jonathan Peled, told El Universal newspaper Thursday, citing President Enrique Pena Nieto’s scheduled visit to Israel in 2017 as a booster of technological cooperation.

The agreement will be updated as of 2017 to cover other areas such as investment and services. Israel is Mexico’s biggest trading partner in the Middle East and 42nd globally.

Mexico’s exports to Israel include cement, agriculture and mining products. Israel invests in the Latin American nation in the fields of pharmaceuticals, agriculture, water technology, renewable energy, public security and technology.

A Mexican “ProMexico” trade office is expected to be opened soon in Israel. Some 200 Israeli companies have offices in Mexico and more are expected to come, according to the diplomat, who said there are reasons beyond the economic ones the Israelis and Mexicans should be doing more business together.

“We were one of the first to recognize Israel, in 1950,” Mexico’s ambassador to Israel, Benito Andion, said in an interview with The Times of Israel last year. “Our Jewish community is well integrated and well respected, and it has wonderful ties with other Mexican communities, as well as with Israel. Many of our Jewish youth have spent time in Israel and served in the IDF. To me, Israel and Mexico are a natural fit.”

Mexico is home to some 50,000 Jews, Latin America’s third-largest Jewish community after Argentina and Brazil.


Mexico’s Foreign Secretary lambastes Trump’s anti-Mexican rhetoric

Mexican Foreign Secretary Claudia Ruiz Massieu issued a blistering attack against Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump in a speech to a prominent Jewish group in Washington, D.C., on Monday.

“The United States benefits greatly from the economic relationship with Mexico, and the American people benefit immensely from the presence of Mexican people in this country,” Ruiz Massieu said during a speech at the American Jewish Committee’s Global Forum without mentioning Donald Trump by name. “People, we are most definitely not the problem; we are part of the solution. Our problem is not one of closed borders, but one of narrow minds.”

Lambasting Trump’s recent comments about Mexican immigrants “for political gain,” Ruiz Massieu stressed, “The Mexican people have always been a positive presence and force for good in the United States. And this is not an opinion, it is a fact. The future and viability of the United States as an economic dominant power in the 21st century is linked to the success of its immigrant population.”

According to the foreign secretary, the “foreign” people Trump disparages and demonizes are no different than American Jews and others who “plow the land and make sure there is food on our table.”

“Those who want to make political profit stigmatizing these people, be them Mexicans, Jews, Muslims, people of color, or Asians, are wrong,” she said. “For this country was founded on the very principle – the self evident truth that all men and women are endowed with the same rights – life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

Ruiz Massieu further touted the close relationship between the Mexican people and the Jewish community and their shared values, saying that if history has taught us anything, “when discrimination is allowed against one group, it’s just a matter of time before it is targeted against others.”

“Let me say loud and clear: Fighting anti-Semitism, like standing up to anti-Mexican sentiments, is not a Jewish issue nor a Mexican issue. It’s a common battle for human rights. It is a matter of universal dignity that goes beyond race, religion, ideology or politics. And this stance is simply non-negotiable,” she added.

Ruiz Massieu concluded, “The Mexican-U.S. alliance is unwavering. It has deep, strong roots, and it’s mature enough to endure any political juncture. It goes way beyond this unprecedented electoral process.”

Mexico shuns approach by U.S. lobby group seeking to work against Trump

Mexico has rebuffed an approach from a U.S. lobbying group seeking a government endorsement for its efforts to counter Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump, according to a Mexican official involved in the talks.

The American Mexico Public Affairs Committee (AMxPAC), a tax-exempt “social welfare” group recently set up by Mexican-American business figures, did not ask for money but was simply testing the waters to gauge whether the government would be interested in giving it some form of support, the official said.

Keen to avoid being perceived as interfering in the domestic politics of its northern neighbor, the Mexican government rebuffed the approach, the official said.

“It would be awful if we joined them and Trump won,” said the official, who was not authorized to speak publicly. “The political cost would be huge.”

Trump, who is all but certain to be the Republican Party presidential nominee for the Nov. 8 U.S. election, has upset many in his own party and south of the border with insulting comments about Mexican immigrants and pledges to build a wall along the Mexican frontier to keep out illegal immigrants.

Trump argues that Mexico is “killing” the United States with cheap labor and says the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) has been a disaster.

The AMxPAC president, Antonio Maldonado, said Trump's rise was a factor in the March 18 creation of the group, which is organized under section 501(c)(4) of the U.S. tax code and is modeled on the powerful American Israel Public Affairs Committee, but added that it was not solely focused on providing a counter-narrative to Trump's rhetoric.

“This idea of having a lobby to strengthen the U.S.-Mexico relationship is something that is much bigger than Trump's candidacy,” said Maldonado, a San Diego-based lawyer.

Nonetheless, Maldonado acknowledged that AMxPAC board member Eduardo Bravo had approached the Mexican government.

“There was a conversation,” he said. “But only to explain that we didn't want to hinder what they were doing, and also, we didn't want them to hinder what we were doing.”

Mexico has responded to concerns over Trump's remarks and worry that his comments reflect wider ill-feeling toward it in the United States by sending in a respected diplomat, Carlos Sada, as its new ambassador in Washington, charged with boosting the country's image. Maldonado said the government had also hired U.S. public relations firm Burson-Marsteller.

The official said the government is also focused on helping eligible Mexicans in the United States become citizens, and other “soft power” strategies. For example, Mexico may lean on the national soccer team to help it reach the U.S. Mexican diaspora.

It is illegal for foreign governments, corporations or individuals to spend funds in connection with U.S. federal, state or local elections.

The 501(c)(4) groups do not have to disclose the identities of their donors as long as they spend less than half their time and money on political activities, providing a potential illegal workaround for foreign nationals hoping to donate to political causes.

Maldonado said the AMxPAC was predominantly formed as a 501(c)(4) for tax purposes, not to allow donors anonymity.

Why Trump makes us all dizzy

There’s no better feeling in the world than being 100 percent right about something. In a slippery world where everything seems to be debatable — even climate change! — it’s so refreshing to find something that is not debatable, something truly black and white.

The fact that Donald Trump has made vile, racist, sexist, violent and bigoted statements is not debatable. It’s the cold truth, as if I told you that water is a liquid or the Lubavitcher Rebbe was Jewish.

This cold truth has united most of the Jews of America. Whether you’re on the right or the left, religious or secular, the vast majority of Jews (there are always exceptions) will not condone the vile statements made by Trump as he has climbed to the top of the Republican primaries. If you don’t believe me, try getting a Jew to publicly defend Trump’s racist comments. It’s one thing to harbor dark thoughts, it’s another to go public with them.

Trump goes public with them, and this has made us all dizzy.

Saying things like “Muslims won’t be allowed into America until we can figure out what the hell is going on” is not just racist, it’s incredibly stupid. We’re not used to hearing such raw bile from politicians who want to get elected. Talking points that come out of focus groups are littered with inoffensive clichés. If you want to be popular and attract as many voters as possible, the less offensive you are, the better.

So, when we hear such shocking and immoral bile from a presidential candidate, we go nuts. How could we not?

Our revulsion at Trump is making us so dizzy that it is trumping other values, like knowledge, curiosity and understanding. The rabbis and activists who plan to walk out in protest of Trump’s speech Monday night at the AIPAC Policy Conference have no interest in hearing what he has to say. I get it. Moral values are fundamental to one’s identity. If someone challenges these values as blatantly as Trump has, our instinct is to cut him out.

But I will be there Monday night, and I will definitely not walk out.

I hate Trump’s racist bile as much as anyone, but that’s not the point. The point is this: my feelings often bore me. They don’t encourage me to think, and thinking is what I love to do. The minute I internalize something like, “I hate you,” “You’re a racist,” or “Your statements are unacceptable and beyond the pale,” my feelings take over and I get in activist mode. I don’t mind the activist mode; I just prefer the thinking mode.

I prefer the mode of trying to make sense of this crazy Trump phenomenon, the likes of which I have never seen. Is he more of a huckster than a racist? Can attitude trump substance? Is he getting all those votes because or despite his vile comments? Is he just another politician who won’t deliver on his promises, including appalling ones like cutting out Muslims or building that 10-foot wall on the border of Mexico?

How much validity is there in his argument that we’re getting ripped off by China in our trade agreements? How much of his appeal is due to people’s economic worries and his shtick that because he knows how to negotiate good deals for himself, he’ll know how to negotiate good deals for America? How could so many voters overlook his horrible comments? Why are even educated people voting for him? How will he tailor his speech for the AIPAC crowd, and what will that say about him? And so on, and so on.

That Trump’s comments offend me to no end is a cold truth, but there’s another, equally vital truth swimming in my head: I like to figure out what the hell is going on.

It makes me less dizzy, and better equipped to counter what I hate.

David Suissa is president of TRIBE Media Corp./Jewish Journal and can be reached at davids@jewishjournal.com

Mexico recaptures drug boss ‘Chapo’ Guzman

Mexico has recaptured the world's most notorious drug lord Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzman, President Enrique Pena Nieto said via Twitter on Friday, six months after he brazenly broke out of a high security prison through a tunnel.

Guzman, the head of the infamous Sinaloa Cartel who Pena Nieto first caught in 2014, was captured in an early morning raid in the drug baron's native state of Sinaloa, a government security source said.

“Mission accomplished: We have him,” Pena Nieto said on his Twitter account. “I want to inform all Mexicans that Joaquin Guzman Loera has been arrested.”

In October, the government said Guzman narrowly evaded security forces searching for him in the northwest of Mexico, sustaining injuries to his face and leg.

Guzman, staged his jailbreak in July, when he escaped through a mile-long tunnel which burrowed right up into his cell, heaping embarrassment on Pena Nieto.

Once featured in the Forbes list of billionaires, Guzman is one of the world's top crime bosses, whose Sinaloa Cartel has smuggled billions of dollars worth of cocaine, marijuana and methamphetamines into the United States and fought vicious turf wars with other Mexican gangs.

Guzman potentially faces a quick extradition to the United States. After coming under fire for failing to extradite him the last time, Mexico's Attorney General's office said in July it had approved an order to extradite him north of the border.

Guzman is wanted by U.S. authorities for various criminal charges including cocaine smuggling and money laundering.

Patricia, one of strongest ever hurricanes, set to slam Mexico

Mexico scrambled to evacuate thousands of people on Friday as one of the strongest hurricanes ever recorded bore down from the Pacific Ocean, threatening to wreak catastrophic damage and spreading fear along the country's west coast.

The U.S. National Hurricane Center said Hurricane Patricia was the strongest storm ever recorded in the Western Hemisphere, and the World Meteorological Organization compared it to 2013's Typhoon Haiyan, which killed thousands in the Philippines.

Blowing winds of 200 mph (322 km/h), the Category 5 storm had the Pacific states of western Mexico on high alert, including Jalisco, home to the popular resort of Puerto Vallarta as well as Guadalajara, the second-biggest city in the country.

Mexican President Enrique Pena Nieto said Patricia would probably hit the coast between 4 p.m. and 6 p.m. (2100 GMT-2300 GMT), most likely near the village of Punta Perula between Puerto Vallarta and the major cargo port of Manzanillo.

“This hurricane is an enormous worry,” said Patricio Flores, a trade union official from Jalisco. “We know they can demolish anything you put in their path.”

Pena Nieto said it was hard to predict what would be done by the massive storm, which could be seen from outer space.

“But one thing we're certain of is that we're facing a hurricane of a scale we've never ever seen,” he said in a local radio interview shortly before U.S. President Barack Obama said the United States was standing by ready to help Mexico.

Both Mexican and U.S. officials said the unprecedented hurricane could wreak catastrophic damage.

Roberto Ramirez, head of Mexico's federal water agency, said Patricia was so strong it could possibly cross the country and head over the Gulf of Mexico to the United States.

Writing from 249 miles (401 km) above earth aboard the International Space Station, U.S. astronaut Scott Kelly tweeted an imposing image of the giant storm, blanketing a significant portion of the globe in white cloud, along with the message: “Stay safe below, Mexico.”

The U.S. Embassy in Mexico said Patricia was seen as one of the most powerful and dangerous hurricanes in recorded history.

“If you are in the hurricane warning area, make preparations immediately to protect life and property,” it said.

Still, the NHC said the storm should weaken once it slams into Mexico's mountainous terrain.


On the shores of Puerto Vallarta, the heart of a string of resorts that range from low-end mega hotels to exclusive villas attracting tech billionaires and pop stars, loudspeakers blared orders to evacuate hotels as light rain fell and a breeze ruffled palm trees. The streets emptied as police sirens wailed.

Federal water official Ramirez said 15,000 domestic and foreign tourists had been evacuated from Puerto Vallarta.

The government warned that ash and other material from the volcano of Colima, about 130 miles (210 km) from Puerto Vallarta, could combine with massive rainfall to trigger “liquid cement”-style mudflows that could envelop nearby villages.

In Punta Perula, expected to be the first place to feel the impact of the storm, local hotel worker Fernando said he and other staff had hunkered down in one of the rooms in the Hotel Estancia Dolphins, locking the door and shutting off lights.

In near darkness, they waited for the storm to arrive.

“The truth is, I'm very, very nervous,” he said. “This is going to get very ugly, and I'm sad I'm not with my family.”

Still, some visitors to Puerto Vallarta chose to adopt a more philosophical outlook.

“It's natural to be worried, and then you breathe and it's gone,” said Carolyn Songin, 52, a California resident visiting her friend Judith Roth, who owns a nearby yoga retreat.

Roth, a 66-year-old California native, said she would ride out the storm at Songin's “bunker-like” apartment. “We're set up, we have our food and water, and we're just going to be in meditation and sending prayers for the area,” Roth said.

By Friday afternoon, the Miami-based NHC said Patricia was located about 85 miles (137 km) southwest of Manzanillo, with maximum sustained winds of 200 miles per hour (321 kmh) as it moved north at 12 mph (19 kph).

Puerto Vallarta's airport and port were closed on Friday, while Manzanillo port was also shut. State oil company Pemex said service stations would stop selling gasoline in the hurricane-watch area.

Local schools were closed and some business owners were busy boarding and taping up windows. The Federal Electricity Commission (CFE) said it was carrying out electricity shutdowns in the states of Colima, Jalisco and Nayarit.

Long lines of traffic stretched out of Puerto Vallarta en route to Guadalajara, around a 5-hour drive inland to escape the storm, which the WMO said grew at an “incredible rate” in the past 12 hours.

“The winds are enough to get a plane in the air and keep it flying,” WMO spokeswoman Clare Nullis told a U.N. briefing in Geneva, likening Patricia to Typhoon Haiyan.

Haiyan killed over 6,300 people and wiped out or damaged nearly everything in its path as it swept ashore on Nov. 8, 2013, destroying around 90 percent of the city of Tacloban.

The strongest storm ever recorded was Cyclone Tip which hit Japan in 1979.

None of Pemex's major installations lie in the storm's projected path, but the company said it was taking measures to protect operations in Manzanillo and the port of Lazaro Cardenas.

Mexico kingpin ‘Chapo’ Guzman stages brazen jailbreak in blow to president

Mexico's most notorious drug lord, Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzman, broke out of a high-security prison on Saturday night for the second time, escaping in a tunnel built right under his cell, and heaping embarrassment on President Enrique Pena Nieto.

The kingpin snuck out of the prison through a subterranean tunnel more than 1 mile long that ended at an abandoned property near the local town, National Security Commissioner Monte Alejandro Rubido told a news conference on Sunday.

Guzman, who had bribed his way out of prison during an escape in 2001, was seen on video entering his shower area at 8:52 p.m. on Saturday (0152 GMT Sunday), then disappeared, the National Security Commission (CNS) said.

Wanted by U.S. prosecutors and once featured in the Forbes list of billionaires, Guzman was gone by the time guards entered his cell in Altiplano prison in central Mexico, the CNS said.

“This is going to be a massive black eye for Pena Nieto's administration,” said Mike Vigil, former head of global operations for the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration.

“I don't think they took into account the cunning of Chapo Guzman and the unlimited resources he has. If Chapo Guzman is able to make it back to the mountainous terrain that he knows so well in the state of Sinaloa … he may never be captured again,” Vigil said.

Beneath a 50-cm (20 inch) by 50-cm hole in the cell's shower area, guards found a ladder descending some 10 meters (32 feet) into the tunnel, which was about 1.7 meters (5.6 feet) high and 70-80 centimeters (28-31 inches) wide.

Inside the passageway used for Guzman's latest escape, guards found a motorbike mounted on rails, probably used to cart away soil, Rubido said, as well as equipment to pump air into the tunnel.

Prison workers were quickly questioned over the escape.

The government said 30 officials from the penitentiary were being interrogated at the unit specializing in organized crime at the Attorney General's office.

Outside the Altiplano lockup, and at the deserted property where Guzman surfaced, security forces barred reporters, while guards arrived for the day shift and encountered a prison in lockdown, wondering whether to stay or go home.

After the launch of a massive manhunt for Guzman, Pena Nieto ordered an investigation into whether public officials had helped the capo escape.

“There's no doubt this is an affront to the Mexican state, but I have confidence that the institutions … can recapture this criminal,” he said in a statement from Paris.

Guzman was one of the world's top crime bosses, running the powerful Sinaloa Cartel, which has smuggled billions of dollars worth of cocaine, marijuana and methamphetamines into the United States and fought vicious turf wars with other Mexican gangs.

The flight of Guzman, who became a legendary figure in villages scattered in the sierra where he grew up in northwestern Mexico, seriously undermines Pena Nieto's pledge to bring order to a country racked by years of gang violence.

U.S. Attorney General Loretta Lynch, noting Guzman faces multiple drug-running and organized crime charges in the United States, said Washington shared Mexico's concern over the escape.

“The U.S. government stands ready to work with our Mexican partners to provide any assistance that may help support his swift recapture,” she said in a statement.

The breakout happened in the State of Mexico, the home state of Pena Nieto, who took office in 2012 vowing to confront cartel violence that has killed more than 100,000 people since 2007.


The Mexican president has come under increasing pressure to deliver on his pledges to root out corruption after becoming embroiled in a string of conflict-of-interest scandals. He was en route to France when news of Guzman's getaway broke.

Before Pena Nieto won election, politicians in his Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) had mocked their conservative rivals for letting Guzman escape while they ran the country, saying it would not have happened on their watch.

Days after Guzman was captured in 2014, Pena Nieto said another El Chapo escape must “never happen again.”

“Given what happened in the past, truly, it would be worse than deplorable, it would unforgivable,” he said then.

Over the past decade, dozens of illegal tunnels built by gangs trafficking drugs and people across the U.S.-Mexican border have cropped up, with more than 100 found since 2007.

But penetrating Mexico's highest security prison to spring the world's most infamous drug smuggler undoubtedly represents a more audacious challenge, experts said.

Rubido did not comment on why authorities had apparently failed to notice a long tunnel being built under the prison.

The capo's escape could also strain relations with the United States, which wanted Guzman extradited, said Alberto Islas, a security expert at consultancy Risk Evaluation.

“They were concerned about how dangerous he was, and they had a lack of confidence in the Mexican authorities to stop him operating from jail,” he added.

In 2001, Guzman paid guards to help him slip out of the high-security Puente Grande prison near the city of Guadalajara after a previous arrest in 1993. After eluding capture for 13 years, Guzman was arrested in Sinaloa in February 2014.

Government officials vowed on Sunday that Guzman would be recaptured, and security forces fanned out to search roads near the prison, which is some 90 km (60 miles) west of the capital.

Mexican TV anchor Zabludovsky, symbol of government spin, dies at 87

Influential Mexican journalist Jacobo Zabludovsky, seen for years by critics as an unofficial mouthpiece for the government, died on Thursday morning after suffering a stroke in hospital.

Zabludovsky was from 1971 to 1998 host of “24 Hours” a nightly news show on the dominant Televisa TV network, which had a cozy relationship with the Institutional Revolutionary Party, or PRI.

Ruling Mexico continuously from 1929 to 2000, the PRI became synonymous with vote-rigging, corruption and authoritarianism, but its many detractors said it could rely on Zabludovsky to deliver the government line, glossing over inconvenient truths.

Such was his notoriety that popular Mexican rock band Molotov even opened an 1997 album with a song called 'Que no te haga bobo Jacobo,' or 'Don't let Jacobo fool you.'

Born in Mexico City in 1928 to a family of Polish-Jewish immigrants, Zabludovsky left Televisa in 2000, complaining his son had been overlooked for the post of the network's leading nightly news anchor.

President Enrique Pena Nieto, who returned the PRI to power in 2012, was among many prominent Mexicans to express their sadness over Zabludovsky's death. He was 87.

Zabludovsky, who continued interviewing top politicians and wrote a regular newspaper column until late June, was still sending out news bulletins on his Twitter account until he was hospitalized on Tuesday night with signs of dehydration.

Me and La Migra

I am carrying through here on my prior post about the Wong family by making visits on Xmas and New Year’s to their rented beach front manse (for one third of San Diego rents) in Rosarita Beach.

I found Northern Mexico rugged but beautiful, the people friendly to a fault.  I ate at a “nouvelle cuisine” restaurant named “Mi Casa Supper Club”  as good as any I’ve eaten at in Southern California, and we bought fish at a beachfront, pelican-populated market in Ensenada that has all the local color of John Steinbeck’s novels.

Yet Mexico is a society desperately in need of infrastructure investment. Maybe it’s the provincial American in me, but I could not help thinking what a few hundred billion in American—and European and Asian—capital investment could do if politics did not get in the way.

The worst of my experience was with “La Migra”—the U.S. border patrol. As best as I can understand it, we have for American citizens returning by car from Mexico, a three-tier system: one expedited lane for those holding a “passport lite” border document, one for returnees with a valid driver’s license or birth certificate, and one with some sort of special medical status. It’s very easy to get confused trying to find the correct lane.

That you have this special “border passport” is apparently a Border Patrol preference, but not an official legal requirement. We know this because many if not most Americans return with just a driver’s license, and are not hassled—unless the border agent is suspicious or in a bad mood.

On my most recent trip with my friend, Chris, driving me back to San Diego, we were sidelined for almost two hours for reasons we can only surmise: because Chris told the truth that he was born in the UK (on an American military based where his father was service as an Air Force medic), or because I only showed a California driver’s license, or because the agent did not like the look of us: Chris is a blend of Chinese and Latino, and I told the agent bluntly that I was born in the Bronx, three blocks from the old Yankee Stadium.

The experience at the interrogation center was like a combination of Kafka and the Keystone Cops. When Chris asked whether we would be given a number and treated in a logical order, he got back from an agent a sarcastic: “Welcome to the real world.”

To the contrary, La Migra seems to be the fantasy land police. The agents mill around endlessly, joking about who took the longest lunch break, and posing for selfies. The idea that these demoralized petty functionaries  could arrest a real world terrorist is beyond laughable.

After a desultory inspection, we were allowed to return to “the promised land.” Fortunately for all concerned, my spastic colon did not erupt, nor did my New York Jewish temper which might have landed me in jail, possibly in a hospital ward.

For many years, I’ve favored a well-paid and well-treated border agents strictly enforcing border security, coupled with a liberal immigration policy. Now, I’m tending towards a libertarian-anarchist position. With neither party in D.C. apparently serious about comprehensive immigration reform, let’s put out of its misery by abolishing it. Homeland Security’s worse-than-useless INS. 

The cantankerous California writer Ambrose Bierce crossed into Mexico at the time of the 1910 Revolution, and was never seen again. Probably his way of saying adieu to the human race. I’m not that misanthropic, but won’t revisit Mexico until La Migra cleans up its act. Unfortunately, that happening is a fantasy.

My travels with the Wong family

My experience is that those of us who believe—albeit with qualifications—in multiculturalism don’t always have the opportunity to put theory into practice.

A transplant from Los Angeles to San Diego, I lived in a confirmed bachelor’s not-so-splendid isolation, with my housekeeper, Patty, and Maltese, Toby, before the Lord smiled on me. The smile came in the form of my association with the cross-border Wong family, who have enriched my observation of multicultural families beyond seeing them at Southern California shopping malls.

My computer consultant and the paterfamilias, 40 year-old Chris, is a blend of Latino and Chinese, born in the UK where his father  served in the U.S. Air Force. Chris’ great grandfather was shanghaied in the 1800s from China to the U.S., where he worked on the railroads up-and-down California before becoming a farmer and dying at a relatively young age in Mexico. Chris’ grandfather, a trucker, mostly transported produce across America, but once delivered  a Christmas tree to Ronald Reagan. His wife, Amor, is a U.S.-born Latina, who is punctilious about good manners and whose roots in Mexico hint at the exotic, though she is unsure whether her great grandmother really was partly Jewish. 

They started successfully building a family in San Diego until they were wiped out financially by the 2008 Crash. Ever resilient, they have relocated at least for a few years in Rosarita Beach, living at the ocean for a fraction of the rent, while maintaining close economic and families ties with relatives in San Diego.

The miracle of the Wong family, which has won my indelible affection, is their six children, ages 2 through 12. Their names  (from oldest to youngest) are Genesis, Jireh, Mission, River, Liberty, and Eternity. Chris has been a lay minister for several decades, and the children are being brought up as believing but tolerant Protestants, with great mutual love—but Internet access closely monitored.

Almost four year-old Libby has mood swings as tempestuous as summer showers, and is already extremely opinionated as well as intellectually sharp. Six year-old River combines perhaps a touch of autism with an artistic streak. Eight year-old Mission plays the piano and is already “macho.” Twelve-year-old Genesis (“Juby”) has her law career mapped out.

Their parents don’t play favorites, but I can. Although I love them all, my special delight  is Jireh (from the Hebrew for “provider”), who’s a 10 year old with a sweet nature, precise vocabulary, musical talents, budding gourmet tastes, race car enthusiasm, and soccer prowess. I am trying to teach him some history—not an easy subject to teach his generation. While on a recent visit to Disneyland, he conned me into riding  with him the “California Screamin” coaster in a front row seat. I am still recovering.

Though living in San Diego, I haven’t visited Mexico in twenty years. With some trepidations about cross-border developments (about which I have written in a scholarly vein elsewhere), I have now agreed to accept the Wongs’ hospitality in Rosarita Beach.  We just returned from a Sunday jaunt on the American side to Temecula where we visited my friend, Selma Lesser (now 95 years old), whom I wrote about previously in the “Jewish Journal” and who lives on her vineyard and winery. It was my pleasure to introduce the children to the wonder, at the other end of the spectrum, of great age combined with the wisdom of experience.

Multiculturalism is all well-and-good. I telecommute as a consultant for the Simon Wiesenthal Center’s Museum of Tolerance is Los Angeles which promotes it. But abstract debates about the merits, pro and con, are no substitute for contact with the real thing.

Mercifully, the Wongs and I rarely discuss politics (though Jireh, I am sad to report, recently exclaimed “politics stinks!”—to which I did not have a good reply).  But we do discuss family trajectories, with my being accorded the honorary title of Tío  Heraldo. 

My association with the Wongs—an all-American as well as multicultural family—keeps alive my hope that we really do have a future worth investing in and, if necessary, fighting for.

*Born in New York but educated as an historian at UCLA,  Harold Brackman, a consultant for the Simon Wiesenthal's Museum of Tolerance,  is coauthor with Ephraim Isaac of From Abraham to Obama: A History of Jews, Africans, and African Americans (Africa World Press, forthcoming).

Killing it in Mexico

I confess that I’ve felt a little guilty luxuriating in a Mexican resort during this Passover holiday instead of finding ways to connect with the long and painful journey of my ancestors. But I did spend the first part of the holiday in freezing Montreal, so maybe that compensates somewhat. 

I was invited by Presidential Kosher Holidays to give a few lectures at a resort near Cancun, where several hundred mostly Orthodox Jews have gathered from across the country, and … how could I say no?

It’s as if there’s an unwritten message floating here that says: “Maybe our people suffered for 5,000 years so that we won’t have to.”

But lest you think it’s all fun and games, there’s plenty of serious stuff, too: Daily prayer services (Ashkenazi and Sephardi minyanim), Talmud learning, Torah sermons and, of course, the speakers.

This year, one of the speakers was former Ambassador and Middle East expert Dennis Ross. His lectures covered the unraveling Arab Spring, the comatose Israeli-Palestinian peace process and the continued nuclear threat from Iran.

In the comedy business, when you do very well, they say you “killed.” Well, at the lectures I attended, Dennis Ross killed.

He killed not only because he is so knowledgeable (he may have done more Middle East diplomacy than anyone alive), but also because his insights have the ring of truth.

A rabbi friend once told me that the ring of truth is even more powerful than truth itself. That’s because the ring of truth is familiar. It’s plausible. It’s already inside of us. A good speaker will help us uncover it. 

In his lectures, Ross uncovered many insights that rang true. One of them: Don’t play nice with bullies or they’ll walk all over you.

Of course, he used more diplomatic language: When dealing with dictators, the key is to always show that any hostile action will carry a price. When that price becomes too costly, that’s when bullies back down. 

He used the example of Syria. Millions of people have been displaced and nearly 200,000 people killed because bully-in-chief Bashar Assad has hardly paid a price for his bullying. 

Whether in Syria or elsewhere, Ross concluded, America has lost leverage and influence precisely because it has failed to enact a high enough price for the misdeeds of rogue regimes. Whatever your ideology, that seems to ring true.

Ross’ sober lectures were a sharp counterpoint to the lighthearted mood you feel in a vacation resort. It was geopolitics one hour, hot stone massage the next — a dose of reality in a place of fantasy.

Thank God, then, for comedian Elon Gold. 

Just when the gravitas of Dennis Ross was starting to weigh on us, Gold rescued us with a Saturday night performance that, well, killed.

And just as Ross moved us with the ring of truth, so did Gold.

He kicked off his show by pointing out that here we were, a group of Jews memorializing the enslavement of our ancestors by enslaving a slew of bus boys, waiters, cooks and hotel staff.

In 3,000 years, Gold said, maybe they, too, will gather for a special meal to celebrate their freedom from vacationing Jews.

He had us in stitches when he performed a precise, hypothetical talmudic debate over how Jewish scholars might handle a Christian ritual like getting a Christmas tree. (“Do you make the blessing on the tree before or after you bring it in the house? And what if one foot is in and one foot is out? Our Sages had a major disagreement about this.”) 

Gold is an observant Jew, but he’s also an observant comedian, especially when it comes to observing his people.

“Jews love to leave events early,” he said, “because the best part of the night is the car ride home when you can gossip about other people.”

Even though his show came right after a lavish dinner, he couldn’t ignore the Jewish obsession with food and the constant anticipation of more food. That was a running gag — “Let’s end this show already, we’re all starving.”

The ring of truth echoed in the howls of laughter when Gold channeled his inner Dennis Ross and weighed in on politics: “Questioning the Jewishness of Israel,” he said, “would be like questioning the Asian-ness of China.” 

After six eventful days in Mexico, I can tell you there was no questioning the Jewishness of my Passover vacation: Too much food, angst about Israel and the Middle East, a few good laughs, a search for truth and, of course, that ever-subtle feeling of Jewish guilt that never quite leaves you. 

Tijuana to Tefilah: Crossing from Mexico to America with Jewish children who do it every day

As I stepped out of the van into the chilly, pre-dawn Tijuana air, I could just barely make out the shadows of the pedestrians nearby, all of them stepping over puddles and street trash, walking in the same direction. 

I watched as two girls, Chaya Leibkinker, 16, and her sister, Tali, 11, grabbed their backpacks from the trunk of their SUV, quickly said goodbye to their father, Israel, then, along with their mother, Sandra, melted into the crowd approaching the Tijuana-San Ysidro pedestrian border crossing into the United States.

Every weekday, about 30,000 people cross this border into the United States, the vast majority of them Mexican citizens who work in metropolitan San Diego.

Among the crowd are seven Jewish children from Tijuana, who, five days a week, make the multihour cross-border trek to day schools in northeast San Diego so they can receive a Jewish education. There are no Jewish schools in Tijuana, and the community there can’t offer them a viable religious education. So each day, they cross northbound through U.S. Customs and Border Protection and then return southward each evening into Mexico.

It wasn’t always like this. From 1997 to 2004, Tijuana had a very small Jewish day school, run by Rabbi Mendel Polichenco, who leads the city’s only traditional Jewish synagogue, a Chabad. 

But with only about 25 students per year, the school’s small budget made it too difficult to provide a great level of education, and there was not enough demand to continue making a go of it. Plus, there was the problem of turnover; many of the children’s families immigrated to the United States as soon as they were able, Polichenco said.

Bottom line: A dollar spent on transporting children to San Diego every day goes further than a dollar spent schooling them in Tijuana.

Judaism, though, is not the only reason parents and their kids spend so much time and energy crossing the border every weekday. 

After all, throughout the United States, many observant families in small Jewish communities lacking a serious educational infrastructure supplement their children’s education by enrolling them in online classes with experts in Torah, Talmud, Hebrew and other foundational elements of a comprehensive Jewish education.

One of Sandra Leibkinker’s main motivations: She believes access to Southern California’s Jewish community could very well impact whether her daughters marry Jewish men and build  Jewish homes for their own families. 

“This is a small community,” Sandra said of Tijuana, as Tali made a face while her mom untangled the girl’s knotted locks. “I want that she will marry with a Jew.” 

For Rabbi Josef Fradkin, head of school at the Chabad Hebrew Academy in San Diego, where a handful of the Tijuana students learn, the young Mexican Jews lucky enough to obtain student visas to go to a Jewish day school in America — as opposed to a public education in Tijuana — simply have better odds of growing economically as well as religiously.

“That’s why their parents send them every morning across an international border — to give them a chance to succeed,” Fradkin said.

Sandra Leibkinker stands with daughters Tali, 11, left, and Chaya, 16, as they wait on the American side of the U.S.-Mexico border for the carpool van.

Most of these students have Secure Electronic Network for Travelers Rapid Inspection (SENTRI) cards, which allow them to cross relatively quickly while riding in the carpool van. The Leibkinker girls, however, don’t have their passes yet, so each day they cross through Customs by foot, lengthening their commute by at least 30 minutes. The girls and their mother, who accompanies them into the United States each day, meet up with the rest of their group on the other side of U.S. Customs.

My own morning started early, at 5:15 a.m. Theirs began at 5 a.m., as it does every day. To get Chaya to Torah High School of San Diego and Tali to Chabad Hebrew Academy by 8 a.m., the Leibkinkers picked me up at my Tijuana hotel, the Palacio Azteca, at 5:55 a.m. 

It was dark outside, and Carretera Federal No. 1, Tijuana’s main traffic artery, was still nearly empty — until, that is, we got close to the border, where dozens of other cars were dropping off some of the thousands of Tijuana residents crossing to work in California.

Inside Customs, the Leibkinkers and I split off into different lanes — they have a fast pass, but for pedestrian crossing only. On a normal Tuesday, crossing into San Ysidro in the standard lane often takes nearly an hour, according to a Web site run by UC San Diego. 

Despite a border guard’s somewhat intense questioning, I got through quickly, in about 10 minutes.

Just a few feet away, in San Ysidro, the sun was rising over the horizon and the Leibkinkers had been waiting for me for a few minutes. The air was still cold, and Sandra was leading her two girls to a convenience store, where they grabbed an on-the-go breakfast — a Mrs. Fields cookie, corn nuts and a Frappuccino. 

Then they waited to be picked up by the van and the rest of their schoolmates, just a few hundred yards inside the United States. This morning, as we lingered on San Ysidro Boulevard, Chaya played with her cell phone, and Sandra combed Tali’s hair.

Born and raised in Mexico City, home to a thriving, traditional Jewish community of 40,000, the Leibkinkers moved north four years ago to Tijuana, which has a Jewish community of approximately 2,000, Sandra said. She said the reason was economic, but she didn’t go into additional details.

She and Israel, a graphic designer, are hoping soon to move the family to America — like so many Mexicans who move to Tijuana, according to Polichenco, who, in addition to running the Tijuana Chabad, runs one just north of the border in Chula Vista.

“Either it [Tijuana] is a stepping stone, or they like the possibilities that the U.S. gives them,” Polichenco said. “They like being by the border.”

Polichenco, a native of Buenos Aires, Argentina, opened the Tijuana Chabad in 1993, moving into a building on Avenida 16 de Septiembre, which the Jewish community built in 1965. For the past 10 years, he has arranged for the children’s transport, paying the costs by raising most of the needed $25,000 per year from philanthropists in Mexico and California. He said the students’ families contribute what they can, but overall, their payments cover less than half of the total cost.

The same goes for tuition, which, without financial aid, runs upward of $10,000 at Chabad Hebrew Academy and $19,800 at Torah High, for example. Polichenco said that none of the Mexican families is able to afford full tuition. They pay what they can, but many of the children need full scholarships.

Like many families in Tijuana, some members of these Jewish families are U.S. citizens, while others are not, which is why the dream of moving north as a family is not yet possible. In the Leibkinkers’ case, Sandra, Chaya and Tali all are U.S. citizens, but Sandra said that because her husband is not, they won’t be able to move as a family until he finds a job in America.

I asked immigration expert Claire Bergeron of the Migration Policy Institute about the Leibkinkers’ case, as it is often relatively easy for the spouse of a U.S. citizen to receive legal permanent residence in a timely manner. 

Bergeron confirmed that, yes, in many cases, a spouse can legally immigrate quite easily, often in less than 12 months. But there are loads of exceptions that can turn that wait time into years, including doubt over whether an applicant will be able to support himself or his family in the United States.

Yaakov Levy, a Tijuana resident and seventh-grader at Chabad Hebrew Academy, plays a hybrid game of flag football and Frisbee during P.E. class. 

At 3:30 p.m. — the end of the school day, Tali and Yaakov Levy, Raquel’s cousin, a seventh-grader who is also from Tijuana, played a hybrid game of flag football and Frisbee. “Sometimes you can tell that they are tired; that their day has been long,” Stanley said. It wasn’t showing on this day, as Yaakov sped past as his friends who were trying, in vain, to grab his flags.

Occasionally, but not often, the students encounter legal and paperwork issues at the border, said Chabad Hebrew Academy executive administrator Cindee Sutton. Vivian Sur said that when Fernando was a student at Chabad Hebrew Academy, the school made their lives much easier by assisting with the annual paperwork that the U.S. government required for Fernando to renew his student visa.

When there are legal issues at the border, the fix is usually simple  — a call to Polichenco tends to patch things up with the authorities — but it’s the students who suffer academically when things like immigration law get in the way.

“If they can’t come for a couple [days], we are going to make accommodations,” Stanley said. “Maybe have them sit out of P.E. or an elective to meet with their teacher.”

And as much as these students’ parents sacrifice to give their children a Jewish education, Stanley wishes she could meet with the parents more often. But the distance, and the border, makes that tough.

As P.E. wrapped up and the school day neared its end, Torres, the driver, waited at the front of the school. 

At the end of the day, leaving Chabad Hebrew Academy, we stopped back at Torah High to collect the final three students. As everyone settled in, and Fernando, Raquel and Atenas discussed typical high school topics — namely, other boys and girls — Rezi, the youngest Polichenco, was ecstatic when a bag of lollipops was passed her way.

Then, as Torres turned the key in the ignition, something went wrong — a strange clunking sound was coming from under the van’s hood. After trying without luck to start the car, Torres spent the next 90 minutes on the phone with Polichenco, GEICO and a local Russian mechanic Polichenco knows.

As the kids waited for the mechanics, they chatted, laughed, complained and walked around in the chilly dusk air. Eventually, Polichenco sorted out that a tow truck would drive the broken van to the Russian mechanic, while another van from a San Diego Chabad would be dropped off so Torres could drive the group back across the border, hopefully in time for the community’s celebration of little Elimelech Polichenco’s third birthday.

When the replacement van finally pulled up, the irony was palpable — after a day spent in the country where most of these children and their families hope to one day live and work, there was nothing but relief when our ride out of America and into Mexico arrived. 

Arrival time back in Tijuana? Around 7:30 p.m.

Kaddish in Mexico

Light and wind poured in through the cracks in the plastic casing the first time we said it. 

We were in Oaxaca, on the rooftop of a charming but spare hacienda, shielded from the elements by a tent of opaque plastic walls, and the mood was a little bit somber. 

Three stories below was the ordinary street chaos of a small town, whose medium scale and communal vibrancy made it seem almost quaint, until the surrounding mountains of the Sierra Madre enter the frame, dwarfing even the city’s smallness. There was an unpleasant irony in the air that morning. It was the first of our 10 days “in the field” with American Jewish World Service, surrounded as we were by the beauty of the natural world just as we were to hear of its horrors. 

A typhoon had just hit the Philippines. Tens of thousands had died or lost their homes, their livelihood and, some, their will to live. Suddenly there was an urgency to saying Kaddish that had not existed moments before. There had been only my duty to say it, and Joshua’s; we had both suffered recent losses and, because we were a kehillah kedoshah, a holy community on a holy mission, the group had agreed to form a daily minyan so that we could recite those ancient, praiseful words with continuing fidelity.

But from that first morning, we couldn’t say Kaddish only for my mother. Or for Joshua’s father. We had to honor all the others — those we had never met who were now also gone, and on behalf of so many new companionate mourners who had been left behind. We had to say it as if our grief was fresh. 

The peculiarity of the Kaddish prayer is that it speaks nothing of grief. It is a prayer of exaltation, of reverence and belief, and how could we praise God just then? How could we magnify and sanctify, glorify and exalt in the aftermath of unsparing destruction? “People swept away in a torrent of seawater … vast stretches of land swept clean of homes … at least 10,000 may have died,” we read in The New York Times. 

May His Great Name be blessed.

So that day we said it as an entreaty, as a plea for more of God’s presence in the face of disaster. We said it to remind ourselves that we live in a tragically broken world, and it is especially during times of devastation that we must seek God’s majesty

May His Kingdom come, in your lives and in your days …  

Each day we said it, Kaddish was different. Each day we would bring new kavanot (intentions) to the prayer that fit the various schema of our social justice study tour. On the way back from El Zarzal, where we met with the indigenous women’s group Naaxwin, we stood atop Mitla’s ancient Zapotec ruins — their alternate name Mictlan, meaning “the place of the dead or underworld” — and contemplated the stories of anger, abuse and aspiration the indigenous women had shared with us. One woman said she had nearly lost her life after the man she had been married to since age 12 stabbed her five times. That day, we said Kaddish as witnesses. 

The prophet Isaiah is told, “atem eidai va’ … ani El — You are my witnesses and I am God” (43:12). Jewish tradition teaches that the act of bearing witness actually wills God into the world. All that we had beheld that day — the stories of struggle, isolation and transformation — became an invitation, even an insistence, for God’s hand. From our glamorous lives in Los Angeles to one community’s meager subsistence in a Mexican jungle, we witnessed the raging vicissitudes of God’s world, demanding the divine actualize — and answer. 

May His Great Name be. In the world that He created. As He wills …

And when what we saw was too much to bear, we said Kaddish as protest. We protested the vanishing of our loved ones, the lost opportunities, the unrealized dreams. We protested the economic rape of agrarian communities, the poisoned fields, the sickened animals, the toxic water. We protested injustice and poverty and indifference; we protested “against everything wrong,” as Elie Wiesel wrote, “to show that we care, that we listen, that we feel.”

May a great peace from heaven — and life! — be upon us and upon all Israel …

Kaddish became our anthem. Our daily affirmation of all that this world is and all that it can yet be. We said it on rooftops and in ruins, in fields and on farms, when our souls and spirits yearned for it, and when there was nothing else to say. 

“The symbols were seeping into everything,” Leon Wieseltier observed in his brilliant book, “Kaddish.” From the mourner’s prayer to the people’s prayer, it suddenly seemed there was no occasion on earth in which we couldn’t — in which we shouldn’t — magnify and sanctify, praise and glorify, raise and exalt, honor and uplift God’s great name …

Above all blessings! And hymns and praises and consolations — that are uttered in the world.

On our final day, when we had said Kaddish in Mexico for the last time, several people were crying. One woman shared that her father abhorred religion and so she had not mourned him with the prayer, but now she understood it differently; another had lost close friends and felt that saying it had helped heal lingering wounds; another, like me, had lost her mother far too soon, and Kaddish had awakened long latent grief. 

Through pain, Kaddish had brought what we’d lost close again.

Each time I utter it, I find my mother in it. Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach teaches: Kaddish is what the dead would say to us, if we could hear them. But for us on earth, it is a commemoration; memory is what we do with what we’ve witnessed once the seeing is over.

May His Great Name be blessed, always and forever. Amen!

‘Don’t take my daddy’: When the immigration debate hits home

No matter where you sit on the immigration debate, it’s hard not to be moved by what happened to little Adam, an 8-year-old Jewish boy from the San Fernando Valley who watched his father being taken away on the morning of Oct. 18.

Adam was holding his father’s hand as they started their short walk to school. They had barely left their house when five vehicles surrounded them — three black town cars and two silver-gray SUV’s. As a group of men got out of the vehicles and confronted his father, Adam felt his father’s hand being pulled away from his.

Now alone on the street, and seeing his dad being handcuffed, Adam started screaming, “Don’t take my daddy! Don’t take my daddy!” One of the men told him, “Back away, son.”

Meanwhile, Adam’s mother, who had just kissed him and his father goodbye and saw the scene unfolding, ran toward the men who were taking her husband, none of them in uniform. 

“My husband is not a criminal!” she yelled. “Where are you taking him?”

Despite all the screaming and protestations, within minutes the whole episode was over. Adam’s father, the lynchpin of the family, disappeared in a speeding convoy of dark vehicles.

This dramatic scene of a family being torn apart was many long years in the making. It’s a story that encapsulates the heart-wrenching dilemmas confronting America as it decides what to do about its millions of illegal immigrants.

The story began innocently enough about 12 years ago, when a single Jewish woman in her early 30s, Laura Michaelson, met a sweet and attractive single man, Willebaldo Reyes (she calls him “Willie”), at a West Los Angeles gym.

They started dating and fell in love. Laura was conflicted about dating outside of the Jewish faith, but her new boyfriend loved Judaism, and she knew that if they had a family together, the children would be raised Jewish.  

Laura, who is a vocational counselor for people with disabilities, also knew that Willie did not have his immigration papers, but there were some hopeful signs.

Willie was being sponsored by a Mexican restaurant where he worked, and Laura figured that if he married an American citizen, it would surely help.

As she would learn, however, Willie’s situation was a lot more complicated. Years before meeting Laura, he had entered the country illegally from Mexico and started making a decent living doing bodywork on expensive cars. He even got a driver’s license and California ID card. But when his mother fell ill in Mexico, he had to return to take care of her.

It’s when he came back to the United States that he made his first fatal mistake. Instead of re-entering illegally, he took his chances with his California ID card. That got him arrested and deported on the spot. He re-entered the following day (illegally), but by then, his name was already in the system.

This episode haunted him for years. He was grateful that he had several jobs and could send a little money back to his relatives in Mexico, but he knew he was living in the shadows of the law. When he met and fell in love with Laura and dreamed of starting his own family, his fear of being deported became a daily obsession.

This fear was matched only by his intense desire to obtain legal status. So, after they married, had Adam and started building a life together, Willie made his second fatal mistake.

Following the advice of a shady immigration “Notario,” who charged him $4,000, Willie, in partnership with Laura, filed what’s called an I-130, an application for formal entry. His mistake, as any good immigration attorney will tell you, is that he should have waited until he got a response to his Freedom of Information Act request, so he’d know what the government had on him before filing the I-130.

Of course, the government had plenty on him, namely, his fingerprints and arrest record from when he was deported at the border many years back.

What he got on the morning of Oct. 18 was a lot worse than a rejection. He got another deportation.

Laura broke down a few times when she told me the story — but she’s fighting back. She feels her own rights have been violated.

Since that fateful morning, she has been on a mission to bring her husband home, firing off letters to everyone from her local councilman to President Obama. The most hopeful response so far has been a personal letter from Sen. Dianne Feinstein, expressing support and promising to help.

Legally, their chances are not good. The attorneys she has consulted so far have told her that unless the law changes, they’ll have to wait 10 years to reapply for legal entry. That depresses her, but it doesn’t break her will to fight on.

In the meantime, she and Adam spend long hours on Skype staying connected with Willie, who’s living with his mother in Mexico. Adam, who was very close to his father, is having anxiety attacks.

I can imagine that seeing his father’s face on a computer screen is reassuring, but it’s a far cry from the comfort of holding his hand.

David Suissa is president of TRIBE Media Corp./Jewish Journal and can be reached at davids@jewishjournal.com.

Report: One-quarter of Israelis—and 37 percent of kids—live in poverty

The numbers tell a consistent storyline: Nearly one in four Israelis lives in poverty.

A report last week by Israel’s National Insurance Institute showed that 1.8 million of Israel’s 8 million people live below the poverty line.

In 2011, the year for which the report was issued, more than 36 percent of Israeli children were poor, a jump of 1 percentage point from the previous year. Poverty afflicts more than 400,000 Israeli families – including almost 7 percent of families with two working people.

Among developed countries, these numbers are unusually high. Israel has the second-highest poverty rate in the developed world, behind only Mexico, according to statistics from the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, or OECD.

“There’s a very large segment of the Israeli population that isn’t receiving tools they can use in the modern economy,” said Dan Ben-David, executive director of Israel’s Taub Center, a think tank that released its “State of the Nation” report last month — which analyzed Israeli socioeconomic policy. “It’s not only bad for them, it’s also become a huge problem for the country over time. They’re dragging down our productivity and growth.”

Israel’s relatively high poverty rate stems in large part from two sectors of the population that are especially poor: Israeli Arabs and haredi Orthodox Jews, who have poverty rates of 53 and 54 percent, respectively. Israeli Arabs constitute about a quarter of all Israelis, while approximately 10 percent of the country is haredi.

The Israeli government defines the poverty line as individuals who have expendable income of about $9,500 annuall after taxes – which is approximately 50 percent of the median Israeli expendable income. Exactly 24.8 percent of Israelis, or 19.9 percent of families, live in poverty.

By comparison, the United States is fourth-highest on the OECD’s list, with a family poverty rate of about 17 percent, according to the OECD's standard. Twenty-three percent of U.S. children live in poverty.

In Israel, poverty usually does not mean starvation. Unemployment in Israel is at 6 percent, and one of the country’s socialist legacies is a strong safety net for the poor, sick and elderly. Israeli economic policy has, however, turned more conservative in recent years.

Food line

People waiting in line for food packages at a distribution center for the needy in Lod, near Tel Aviv, September 2012. (Yonatan Sindel / Flash90)

Shlomo Yitzhaki, Israel’s government statistician, says higher-than-average birthrates among haredi and Arab Israelis is the principal reason for their high poverty rates.

“If you look at income by family size, as the families get bigger, from five members and up, total family income gets lower,” he said.

Arabs and haredim are also exempt from Israel’s compulsory military service, which makes it harder for them to find work in a culture where army service often serves as a career starting point, allowing people to network and in some cases gain specialized skillsets.

Ben-David says Israel’s problems aren’t limited to minorities and that the state needs to invest in education and transportation infrastructure.

In the summer of 2011, hundreds of thousands of Israelis took to the streets to protest the high cost of living and growing wealth inequality in the country, which were seen as hurting the middle class. Though the issue has gotten a lot of attention in Israel’s current election campaign, it does not dominate headlines the way it did during the 2011 protests.

Last month, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu announced a new commission of government ministers to streamline socioeconomic reforms. He did not specify what those reforms would be.

Ben-David said Israel’s security needs often make it hard to find enough money to address the country’s other challenges. Defense spending makes up about one-fifth of the total budget, and social service spending adds up to about two-fifths.

“That we have such a high defense budget means we have to be judicious with the rest,” he told JTA.

Nonprofit groups here have stepped in to alleviate poverty in Isael, including many managed by haredim. But Yoram Sagi Zaks, founder of the Movement for the War on Poverty in Israel, says the government still needs to take primary responsibility for helping the poor.

“The nonprofits help people, but they need to supplement the state, not replace the state,” Zaks said. “Poverty is not a fate. This is not something we need to get used to.”

Opinion: The embrace

At the end of Shabbat services last Saturday, I watched a 7-year-old boy recite the blessing over the wine, the Kiddush. His voice was pure, the Hebrew, a learned language for him, flowed fast and flawlessly from his mouth. His face shone.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the boy, because I was in Mexico and had learned that just a year ago, he wasn’t Jewish. His parents had approached the expatriate Jewish community in San Miguel de Allende, in central Mexico, and asked if they could learn about Judaism.

Yes, at a time when our community is almost 100 percent focused on the people who opt out, these people wanted in.

Last June, The Journal reported the story of six native Mexicans’ conversion to Judaism in San Miguel. When I found myself in the small, perfectly beautiful colonial town for a friend’s birthday celebration, I jumped at the opportunity to attend Shabbat services at the congregation San Miguel Shalom and see the community there for myself.

They meet for services at the Hotel Quinta Loreto,  located just off the Mercado de Artesanias, a large covered market where you can buy crucifixes fashioned from polished pewter,  papier-mache crèches, wood-carved Jesus figurines and terra cotta saints. A sloping driveway leads into the hotel, where a lush garden — and the jungle call of some tropical bird — reminds you you’re not exactly at Temple Beth Am.

When we entered, a middle-age man launched a big smile in our direction, indicated a woven basket of prayer shawls, and beckoned us to sit down. There were 40 people seated around tables formed into a long rectangle.  The Torah ark on the east wall was made from hammered tin, decorated in a familiar local style.

Most of the congregants are Americans. The prayer leader, Dr. Daniel Lessner, retired early from his practice in Sag Harbor, N.Y., and conducts the services in English, Hebrew and Spanish. The community’s president, Carole Stone, adds her cantorial voice. For decades now, San Miguel, a town of simple but unrelenting beauty, has attracted retirees, artists and snowbirds from the United States. About 20 years ago, some of the Jewish ones formed this congregation, in what they say is the largest Jewish community in Mexico outside of Mexico City.

In the past few years, at least 16 non-Jewish native Mexicans have gravitated to the congregation. Many believe they are descendants of Jews who migrated to the Americas after being expelled from Spain 500 years ago, coerced by the Catholic Church to abandon their original faith. They are called B’nai Anusim — the Children of the Forced Ones. Others have been drawn to the Jewish faith for spiritual, social or intellectual reasons.  In their experience, the more established synagogues in Mexico City do not encourage or welcome potential converts.  

But Shalom San Miguel, as you should be able to deduce by now, is very welcoming. The leaders have translated the prayer books, including the High Holy Days’ siddurim, into Spanish. Lessner, who conducts a truncated Conservative-style service, lapses easily into Spanish and invites native speakers to read passages of liturgy in translation.

“Everyone should feel at home here,” longtime congregant Charles Soberman told me during Kiddush. “It’s nice to have young families.”

That is one striking difference between the converts and the congregants:  The ex-pats are older, the generation of Judaism that was. The converts have kids. A mother swaddled her newborn baby in a colorful blanket throughout the service.  The baby was born just after the three Spanish-speaking rabbis from Los Angeles, Oklahoma City and Las Vegas flew down at the invitation of the congregation to conduct a formal conversion ceremony. For this, the new members had spent a year studying and practicing Judaism. Lessner explained that the rabbis had invested him with the power to convert the newborn upon arrival.

San Miguel is an intensely Catholic town:  “You argue with an upbringing like that; you don’t escape it,” Tony Cohan wrote in his book “On Mexico Time: A New Life in San Miguel.”

In that atmosphere, cut off from Jewish friends and family — not to mention good deli — I couldn’t imagine the kind of courage and perseverance it must have taken for the men and women who walked into Shalom San Miguel to make the choice to become Jewish.

But I did see what happens when congregations actively welcome potential converts:  At one point in the service, a young man stood to thank the congregation for helping him through the untimely death of his brother. Afterward, a newlywed lawyer who had commuted two hours from Leon, Mexico, for a year for conversion lessons, invited the whole congregation to his house to celebrate his and his wife’s one-year wedding anniversary.

And I marveled. What we so often push away, these Children of the Coerced drew close:  Judaism’s way of making sense of the world, of offering meaning, of asking hard questions and providing no easy answers, of emphasizing godly behavior over even belief in God. They need Judaism. And it needs them.

We Jews are just now emerging from what Rabbi Harold Kushner calls “a period of illiteracy and assimilation … a time of embarrassment at being Jewish.” That embarrassment only amplified our reluctance to seek, welcome and encourage converts — a custom brought on by anti-Semitic edicts, but completely at odds with a Judaism that for centuries sought out and venerated new Jews.

The opposite of embarrassment, the opposite of coercion, is embrace. Embracing new Jews was once the Jewish past. And my visit to San Miguel only confirmed what I’ve long believed: It is also the Jewish future.

Amigos in San Miguel de Allende: A Shavuot Story of Conversion

Click here to read this article in Spanish.

Earlier this year, I got a call from an old friend, Rabbi Juan Mejia. Juan asked me if I’d be willing to accompany him and Rabbi Felipe Goodman to San Miguel de Allende for a couple of days in early February. Juan, Felipe and I have a lot in common: We laugh at the same jokes, we all speak Spanish, and we’re all rabbis. A little getaway to Mexico in the middle of winter? Sure, I could fit that into my schedule — no problem, I said.

Three Spanish-speaking rabbis were needed for a beit din (rabbinic court) in the quaint village of San Miguel de Allende. Our purpose was conversions. It sounds like the set-up to a joke: One day a Colombian rabbi from Oklahoma City (Juan), a Mexican rabbi from Las Vegas (Felipe) and an Argentinean rabbi from Los Angeles (me) get on a plane and fly to a little colonial town in Mexico. Many of the people in the town have never seen a rabbi before; as a matter of fact, it’s the first time in more than a century that three rabbis have gathered together in the town for a beit din. The townsfolk don’t know quite what to make of them …

So, late on a Saturday night, I went to LAX to catch a plane. I knew the flight number and the time, but I didn’t really know where I was flying, exactly. I met Felipe and his assistant at the gate, and together we boarded the red-eye to Guanajuato/Leon. Exhausted, we landed an hour late. Waiting to meet us was a young man with payot wearing a black kippah, white shirt, black slacks, black vest and tzitzit. I have to admit, we gawked. It was as if a character had just stepped out of a production of “Fiddler on the Roof” — only with a much darker complexion.

The young man introduced himself as Josue and drove us to his house in Guanajuato. There, his wife, Paola, and their 2-year-old son, Salomon, joined us for the next leg of our journey. Salomon is almost criminally cute, and he kept us entertained and in high spirits, despite our fatigue from the overnight flight. We continued driving for another hour and a half until we reached San Miguel de Allende.

We arrived at the home of Dr. Daniel Lessner, co-president of the Jewish community in San Miguel de Allende. He graciously served us a sumptuous breakfast — and, immediately after, herded the six adult conversion candidates and us into another car, in which we drove to a palatial home. Eager to get started, they urged us to begin the beit din immediately.

Before us stood six people who didn’t know what to expect from three American rabbis. As they faced the beit din waiting for the questioning to begin, we must have seemed formidable. It was evident they felt a considerable measure of fear and anxiety. Little by little, they began to open up. One by one, they shared their stories with us.

In their journeys to become Jews, most of them had encountered daunting obstacles. Some of them had already been denied the opportunity to convert. When they had inquired about it in Mexican synagogues, they had been summarily turned away; they had even been prevented from attending services. For more than a year, five of the six conversion candidates had to drive for an hour or more every week in order to attend services and classes in San Miguel de Allende, because every other place had rejected them.

Their stories were remarkable; we felt privileged to hear and witness them. Each personal journey was both a struggle and an epiphany. These six adults deeply yearned to become part of the Jewish people. It made me think of how often we who are born Jewish take our rich traditions and cultural heritage for granted. All six candidates were well prepared and passed with flying colors. As I reflect on their inspiring stories, I realize that as much as we are dayanim (judges), we are also witnesses to people’s entrance into the Jewish tradition. It is an honor beyond measure. The depth of their commitment to Judaism inspires me.

Rabbi Daniel Mehlman officiates with Josue and Paola under the chuppah. Behind the bride, Rabbi Juan Mejia videotapes with a small camera. Photo courtesy of Rabbi Daniel Mehlman

After the beit din, another man joined us for a long lunch. Just off the bus from a five-hour ride from Guadalajara, he accompanied us on a walk through the charming town center. This man had ridden for five hours to be with us for only a short time, to see if we could help him pursue his own dream of conversion, along with his wife and their two little girls. He rode five hours, spent just two hours with us, then rode back for five more hours — just because he wants to live his life as a Jew.

That evening we dined at the home of an American-born member of the community. There we met with several wonderful people, many of them Americans who had retired in charming San Miguel de Allende. After dinner, we were allowed a few short hours of sleep; we had to arise at daybreak to go to the mikveh, the ritual bath.

We were a tired but eager caravan of 12 people, driving to the Rio Laja. Abutting the river were three small lagoons fed by flowing thermal springs. Despite the early hour, the lagoons were occupied when we arrived. Townspeople were using them to take baths and wash their laundry, as many of them had no access to running water. So, eager with anticipation, we waited. After a while, one of the lagoons was vacated, and our natural mikveh was free. One by one, the adults immersed themselves. Little Salomon, the seventh to convert, was handed to Paola in the mikveh after both his parents had their tevilah (immersion). Now we were all Jews.

Time to party! From there we drove to a beautiful colonial hotel and showed everyone what Jews do best: eat. It was an amazing reception, with more than 100 people attending. And after the eating, naturally, came the talking. Everyone thanked everyone else for making the moment possible. They thanked the three rabbis for donating their time. And can anyone guess whether the three rabbis each wanted to get in on the act and give a little speech, too?

Rabbi Mejia was very emotional in his remarks, having personally experienced the same kind of rejection when he wanted to convert in his native Colombia. Rabbi Goodman emphasized the fact that the three members of The Rabbinical Assembly constituted a beit din that is widely recognized. I mentioned that on the same week we learn of the lighting of the menorah — our seven-branched candelabra and the oldest Jewish symbol — we participated in an event in which seven new lights were added to our people.

After the speeches, all six adults read the Declaration of Faith, in unison, and by then there was not a dry eye in the house. After the new members of the Jewish people received their certificates of conversion, a surprise took place — a Jewish wedding. Under the chuppah, the three rabbis officiated at the union of Josue and Paola. With a wide-eyed Salomon looking on, Yehoshua Ilan and Adina Tamar were married according to the laws of Moses and the precepts of Israel. A wonderful reception with more to eat came after, with an opportunity to mingle with the wonderful community in San Miguel de Allende.

And here’s another note: Remember the man who joined us after a five-hour bus ride? Last week, he flew to Los Angeles with his wife and two daughters, ages 7 and 4. They went straight to the American Jewish University to stand before the Rabbinical Assembly beit din. There they shared their remarkable story. Their yearning to join the Jewish people took them on a journey to a faraway land, a bit like Abraham and Sarah.

That evening, 20 or so people gathered at a charming little synagogue in Studio City and became an instant family. Most didn’t know one another; none knew the bride and groom or their daughters — yet they celebrated together. Yes, once again I was lucky enough to attend another Jewish wedding under a chuppah, to witness them sealing their commitment to each other in our traditional Jewish way. Jewish for only a few hours, they shared a millennia-old ceremony. Not only are they now part of our future together, they share our long history as well. Candlesticks and a Kiddush Cup were among the presents they received from people whom they had never before met. Then they spent a whole Shabbat with their brand-new community. The day spoke of a promising future for all Jews.

I will return to San Miguel de Allende. I must go back, not only for a Shabbat, but to be part of another beit din. I want to witness the next conversions that will occur in this holy place. We, the ones who were born Jews, often take our birthright for granted. We rarely dwell on what it means to be Jewish. On this trip, I was reminded that the Jewish journey is one of the most amazing adventures a person could experience. Every time I witness a conversion, my heart fills with joy and hope. Am Yisrael Chai — the people of Israel live. We are diverse, we are joyous, and despite our tragedies, we are yet alive. L’dor v’dor — from one generation to the next, the torch passes, and continues to be a light unto the world.

Rabbi Daniel Mehlman is the rabbi of Congregation Beth Meier in Studio City. He can be reached at {encode=”rabbidanytee@yahoo.com” title=”rabbidanytee@yahoo.com”}.

En Español

Amigos en San Vicente de Allende

Por Rabino Daniel Mehlman

Unos meses atrás recibí la llamada de un viejo amigo, el Rabino Juan Mejía.  Juan me pregunto si estaría dispuesto a acompañarlo junto con Felipe a San Miguel de Allende por un par de días a principio de Febrero.

Juan, Felipe y yo tenemos mucho en común: nos reímos de los mismos chistes, todos hablamos español, y todos somos rabinos.

¿Unas pequeñas vacaciones a México en la mitad del invierno? Claro, yo puedo acomodar eso en mi agenda- ningún problema dije.

Tres rabinos de habla hispana se necesitaban para una corte rabínica (Beit Din) en la villa de San Miguel de Allende. Nuestro propósito eran conversiones.

Suena como un chiste: Un día un rabino colombiano de Oklahoma City, un rabino mexicano de Las Vegas, y un rabino argentino de Los Angeles subieron a un avión y volaron a un pequeño pueblo colonial de México. Muchas de las personas del pueblo no habían visto a un rabino antes; de hecho, es la primera vez en mas de cien años que tres rabinos se juntan en el pueblo-incluso tal vez en territorio mexicano- para un Bet Din. Los pueblerinos no estaban seguros que hacer de ello…

Entonces el sábado tarde, a la noche, fui al aeropuerto a agarrar un avión.  Sabía el número de vuelo y la hora, pero no sabía realmente adonde estaba volando.

Me encontré con el Rabino Felipe Goodman y su asistente en la puerta, y juntos abordamos a Guanajato/León. Exhaustos arribamos a Guanajato con una hora de atraso. Nos estaba esperando un joven con peyes; estaba usando una kipá negra, camisa blanca, pantalones negros, chaleco negro y tzitzit. Tengo que admitir que eso nos asombró.

Era como si uno de los personajes de “Violinista sobre el tejado” se hubiera escapado de la obra -solo que este tenía una complexión mucho más oscura.

El joven hombre se presentó como Josué y nos condujo a su casa en Guanajato. Allí su esposa Paola y su hijo de dos años, Salomón, se unieron para la siguiente parte del viaje. Salomón es casi criminalmente encantador, nos mantuvo entretenidos y en buen espíritu aún con nuestra fatiga por el viaje nocturno. Seguimos manejando por otra hora y media hasta que llegamos a San Miguel de Allende.

A la mañana llegamos temprano y radiantes al hogar del Dr. Daniel Lessner,  co-presidente de la comunidad Judía de San Miguel de Allende.  Cortésmente nos sirvió un suntuoso desayuno, e inmediatamente después nos llevo junto con los seis candidatos adultos para la conversión.

Nos condujeron hacia un palacio, deseosos por comenzar. Deseaban que comenzáramos con el Bet Din inmediatamente.

Ante nosotros estaban seis personas que no sabían que esperar de tres Rabinos Americanos.  Encarando el Bet Din, esperando que el cuestionario empezara debimos parecerles formidables.  Era evidente que sentían una considerable cantidad de miedo y ansiedad.  Poco a poco comenzaron a abrirse. Uno por uno comenzaron a compartir sus historias con nosotros.

En su viaje a volverse Judíos, la mayoría de ellos se encontraron con intimidantes obstáculos. A alguno de ellos ya se le había negado la oportunidad de conversión.  Al preguntar acerca de esto en las sinagogas mexicanas, no solo se les había rechazado, incluso se les había prohibido atender servicios. Por mas de un año, cinco de los seis candidatos a conversión tuvieron que manejar una hora o más para poder asistir a los servicios y clases en San Miguel de Allende, ya que todos los otros lugares los habían rechazado. Mirándonos, es de esperar que pensaran que nosotros los íbamos a rechazar también.

Sus historias eran extraordinarias; nos sentimos privilegiados de escucharlas y ser testigos de ellas. Cada camino personal fue, ambos, de obstáculos y de epifanía. Estos seis adultos profundamente desearon volverse parte del pueblo Judío. Me hizo pensar que tan a menudo aquellos nacidos Judíos tomamos nuestra rica tradición y herencia cultural por dada. Todos, los seis candidatos estaban bien preparados pasando con brillantez. Como he reflejado en sus historias que nos inspiran, me di cuenta que por mucho que seamos Dayanim, jueces, somos también testigos de la entrada de personas al la tradición Judía. Es un honor que no se puede medir. La profundidad de su compromiso al Judaísmo me inspira nuevo amor por nuestra tradición.

Después del Bet Din alguien nuevo se nos unió para almorzar. Recién bajado del autobús después de un viaje de cinco horas nos acompañó en un tour por el cálido centro del pueblo. Este hombre viajó por cinco horas para estar con nosotros por un corto periodo de tiempo, para ver si podríamos ayudarlo con su propio sueño de conversión, junto a su esposa y dos pequeñas hijas.  Viajó cinco horas, estuvo solo dos horas con nosotros y luego viajó cinco horas de regreso, solamente porque quiere vivir su vida como Judío.

Esa tardecita cenamos en el hogar de un miembro de la comunidad nacido en America. Allí conocimos personas maravillosas, muchos de ellos Americanos retirados en la cálida San Miguel de Allende. Después de cenar, se nos permitió unas horas de sueño, teníamos que levantarnos al amanecer para ir a la Mikveh, el baño ritual.

Éramos una caravana de doce personas, cansadas pero deseosas, manejando al Río Laja. Orillando el río había tres pequeñas lagunas de agua termal. Aunque temprano, las lagunas estaban ocupadas a nuestra llegada. Pueblerinos las estaban usando para bañarse y lavar la ropa ya que muchos de ellos no tienen acceso al agua corriente. Así que deseosos con la anticipación, esperamos. Después de un rato una de las lagunas se desocupó, y nuestro Mikveh natural estaba disponible. Uno a uno los adultos se sumergieron en la Mikveh. El pequeño Salomón, el séptimo a convertir fue entregado a Paola en la Mikveh después que sus padres tuvieron su Tvilah (inmersión). Ahora todos éramos Judíos.

La hora de festejar! Desde ahí manejamos hacia un hermoso hotel colonial y les mostramos a todos lo que los Judíos hacemos mejor: comer. Después de la comida, por supuesto viene los discursos. Todos agradecieron a todos por hacer ese momento posible. Agradecieron a los tres rabinos por donar su tiempo. Y puede alguien imaginar si los tres rabinos aceptaron dar una pequeña oratoria también?

El rabino Mejia fue muy emotivo en su comentarios, habiendo experimentado personalmente la misma clase de rechazo cuando quiso convertirse en Colombia. El rabino Goodman enfatizó el hecho que tres miembros de la Asamblea Rabínica constituyeron un Bet Din que es ampliamente reconocido.  Yo mencioné que durante la misma semana aprendimos del encendido de la Menorah, nuestro candelabro de siete brazos, el mas antiguo de los símbolos Judíos, participamos en un evento donde siete nuevas luces fueron encendidas en nuestro pueblo.

Después de la oratoria, los seis adultos leyeron la Declaración de Fe al unísono, para entonces no había un par de ojos secos en el recinto. Después de que los nuevos miembros del pueblo Judío recibieron sus certificados de conversión, una sorpresa tomó lugar- una boda Judía. Bajo la jupá, los tres rabinos oficiaron la unión de Josué y Paola. Con un Salomón de ojos bien abiertos, Yehoshua Ilan y Adina Tamar fueron casados de acuerdo a la Ley de Moises y los preceptos de Israel. Una magnifica recepción con mas comida sobrevino después, con la oportunidad de mezclarnos con la comunidad de San Miguel de Allende.

Agrego aquí una nota, ¿se acuerdan del hombre que se encontró con nosotros luego de viajar por 5 horas? La semana pasada, él, junto con su esposa y sus ni¬ñas de 7 y 4 años volaron a Los Ángeles. Fueron directamente a la Universidad Judeo-Americana presentándose frente al Bet Din, la corte rabínica de la Asamblea Rabínica, la organización rabínica del movimiento conservador. Allí ellos contaron su extraordinaria historia. Su deseo de unirse al pueblo judío los llevó a una travesía a una lejana tierra, un poco como Abraham y Sarah.

Esa noche unas veintitantas personas se reunieron en la encantadora pequeña sinagoga en Studio City y se convirtieron instantáneamente en su nueva familia. La mayoría no se conocían entre ellos, ninguno había conocido antes al novio, la novia o las dos niñas, y así y todo se reunieron para celebrar juntos. Sí, una vez más tuve la fortuna de presenciar otra boda judía bajo la jupá, para atestiguar su compromiso de crear un hogar judío y unirse de acuerdo a la tradición judía. Judíos por sólo unas horas, compartieron la milenaria ceremonia. No sólo son ahora parte de nuestro futuro, ellos comparten ahora nuestra larga historia común también. Recibieron los augurios y el amor de gente que nunca los había conocido. Y luego pasaron su primer Shabat como Judíos en su nueva comunidad.

Esos momentos llenan de esperanza el futuro del pueblo judío.

Regresaré a San Miguel de Allende. Tengo que volver, no solamente para un Shabbat, pero para ser parte de otro Bet Din. Quiero presenciar las próximas conversiones que sucedan en este lugar sagrado. Nosotros, aquellos que hemos nacido Judíos, a menudo tomamos nuestro derecho de nacimiento por otorgado. Raramente nos detenemos a ver que significa el ser Judío. La semana pasada fui recordado de que el camino Judío es uno de las mas maravillosas aventuras que una persona puede experimentar. Cada vez que soy testigo de una conversión, mi corazón se llena de alegría y esperanza. Am Israel Jai- el pueblo de Israel vive. Somos diversos, somos alegres, aun con nuestras tragedias, estamos aun vivos. LeDor vador- de una generación a la próxima la antorcha se pasa y continua para ser una luz sobre el mundo.

Rabbi Daniel Mehlman es el rabino de la Congregación Beth Meier en Studio City, California. Lo puede ubicar en {encode=”rabbidanytee@yahoo.com” title=”rabbidanytee@yahoo.com”}.

Deals on December getaways

It is so good to be a traveler during December. Whether you want a romantic escape, a girlfriends’ getaway or a family vacation, the deals are abundant as many people choose to stick closer to home through the holiday season. My family and I have traditionally hit the road and enjoyed destinations that are packed with value and are not crowded — great places for a quick winter trip. 

Here are a few places to visit that are loaded with value:

Las Vegas
December bargains and Las Vegas go hand in hand. The Mirage Hotel offers a great grown-up getaway called The Serenity Spa and Room Package. Through Dec. 24, guests can spend two nights in a deluxe room and enjoy two 50-minute Swedish body massages or opt for two nights in a deluxe room with one 50-minute massage and a manicure/pedicure at a cost of $331 for Sunday through Thursday arrivals. Friday and Saturday arrivals are available at $461. Call (800) 234-7737 and ask for the “spa weekday” or “spa weekend” package.

All-inclusive vacations have made their way to The Strip with a jam-packed offering at The Luxor. Starting at $209.99 per night through Dec. 28 (two-night minimum stay), guests can enjoy all-you-can-eat at MORE Buffet; two tickets to “Criss Angel Believe,” two tickets to “Titanic: The Artifacts Exhibition,” two Nurture Spa day passes, VIP admission for two to LAX Nightclub and CatHouse Ultra Lounge plus VIP check-in. Call (877) 386-4658 and mention promo code “PDALL1.”

We’ve hit the slopes at the end of December several times and found that it is a terrific time to enjoy a ski/snowboard holiday. Ski.com is a great resource for planning a value-packed winter vacation, and there are a couple of terrific packages being promoted for December. Snowmass (aspensnowmass.com) is one of the best family ski destinations in the world and they are offering 30 percent off of lodging from Dec. 18 to Jan. 1. Located at the base of the mountain, The Treehouse is a massive, kid-friendly experience filled with winter activities and lots of fun.

Crested Butte Mountain Resort (skicb.com) is also running an added-value promotion with an early booking incentive of a fifth night free. These rates are subject to making your reservations by Nov. 23. Ski.com is also featuring an awesome air special with a fourth airline ticket free after the purchase of three.

Cabo San Lucas is an easy trip by plane and The Marquis Los Cabos (marquisloscabos.com) has extended its Thanksgiving Promotion to Dec. 20, making it even more enticing. The all-suite, beachfront hotel is giving a lot of bang for your buck with a fourth night free, $300 spa credit per suite, VIP roundtrip airport transportation, up to two children (under 12) complimentary, unlimited access to the fitness center and one dinner for two (drinks included during the first hour) at the resort’s Vista Ballenas restaurant. There is also a complimentary daily continental breakfast. Nightly room rates start at $590 for a junior suite.

Bay Area
San Francisco is another ideal destination for a December escape, via a road trip or quick flight. The Hyatt at Fisherman’s Wharf and The Hyatt Regency San Francisco have designed “San Francisco on Sale” packages that are filled with added value. The Fisherman’s Wharf property (fishermanswharf.hyatt.com) has room rates that start at $161 and include a $25 food and beverage credit as well as the Shop SF/Get More savings card, which features special offers and discounts at more than 200 retailers around the city. Rates at the Hyatt Regency San Francisco (sanfranciscoregency.hyatt.com) begin at $169. There are plenty of ways to enjoy San Francisco, from hopping on board a City Lights Cruise on the Red and White Fleet or ice skating at the Embarcadero Center’s ice rink. New Year’s Eve at the Hyatt properties is value-packed as well with a great location to view the Waterfront Fireworks and enjoy all kinds of special amenities, from champagne to breakfast buffets with rates of $299 at the Hyatt at Fisherman’s Wharf and $219 at the Hyatt Regency San Francisco.

If you want to feel like you are miles away yet stick close to home, the city of Ventura (ventura-usa.com) is a perfect option. Best-known for its cozy beachside atmosphere, Ventura bursts with activity during the month of December. The Winter Wine Walk takes place Dec. 4 with a sampling of fine wines and delicious appetizers in downtown Ventura’s restaurants and stores. Ventura Harbor’s Winter Wonderland and Carnival takes place Dec. 19 with faux snowfall, fudge tastings, ice-sculpting demonstrations and more from noon to 4 p.m. The harbor is filled with boats decked out with lights, and fireworks fill the sky during a two-day celebration on Dec. 17 and 18 with a family carnival and something for everyone.

Israeli father and daughter found shot in Mexico

An Israeli man and his daughter were found dead in their home in Mexico City amid signs of violence.

The bodies, riddled with gunshot wounds and signs of violence, were discovered Sunday by volunteers for the ZAKA international rescue unit.

Moshe Aruh, 60, and his daughter Sapir, 24, were found in two separate rooms in the apartment by ZAKA volunteers and local police in what is believed to be a double homicide.

A relative of the victims knocked on the locked door last Friday for a long time but did not receive an answer, according to ZAKA. After Shabbat, ZAKA and police broke down the door and discovered the bodies.

The ZAKA unit in Mexico recently completed its training.