Friday, July 24, 2015
Dear Reader,
Fun stuff out of Hollywood this weekend. Rabbi Jeffrey Salkin puts it out there: It's no joke, the comedian having the biggest moment right now attended Central Synagogue of Nassau County as a kid. She was sweet and funny and asked sharp questions. Sounds like the girl is mother to the woman. NATIONAL
Confessions Of Amy Schumer’s Childhood Rabbi
Jeffrey Salkin
RNS
Amy Schumer. Getty Images
That would be me.
From 1988 to 1995, I was Amy Schumer’s rabbi, at Central Synagogue of Nassau County in Rockville Centre, New York.
I remember the Schumer family very well, and with great fondness. They were a wonderful family. Her mother was on the temple board, and chaired the education committee. I liked her father, Gordon. I officiated at the bar mitzvah ceremony of her older brother, Jason Stein. I was fond of her younger sister, Kim (now, Kim Caramele, a comedy writer who produced Amy’s new movie, Trainwreck). I remember Amy as a sweet, funny kid, who often asked probing and humorous questions in religious school.
Amy Schumer has catapulted to the very top of American popular consciousness. It is rather remarkable. She has done so through her natural, quirky, blisteringly honest way of simply being herself. I enjoyed Trainwreck. It tells the story of a woman who avoids true intimacy. And yet, the most powerful relationship in the film is Amy’s relationship with her father. It depicts how she cares for him during his infirmity, which has its parallels in Amy’s real life.
Central Synagogue of Nassau County is a great synagogue. But it is no funnier than any other American synagogue.
And yet, for some reason, it has produced four comedians. There are Amy and Kim. And then, there is Dave Attell, an outrageous standup comedian. He appears in Trainwreck. Is it merely a coincidence that his late father was the synagogue president at the same time that Amy’s mother was on the board?
There is also Rory Albanese, a comedian, producer and television writer (most notably, former writer for The Daily Show).
Maybe there’s no accident here. Stand up comedy has a long and venerable history in Jewish life.
It stars with the badkhan – the jester, who had an honored role in traditional Jewish society. His job was to make fun of couples at their weddings — even telling the bride that she was ugly, or disparaging the couple’s wedding gifts.
In 1648, the Cossacks went on a killing spree in Ukraine, devastating Jewish communities. The rabbis surmised: it must have been our fault. Things were getting too loose. Too much levity; too little Leviticus. That almost put the badkhan out of business.
Not so fast, said some rabbis. Maybe the badkhanim are actually not funny. Perhaps they are really social commentators. They could stay around.
That is how the Jewish comedic tradition — social criticism, iconoclasm, anti-authoritarianism — was born.
The true alte zeyde (“old grandfather”) of the sardonic Jewish comic tradition was, of course, the late Lenny Bruce. His social commentary was trenchant and often obscene, though nowadays we would consider it quite tame. From Lenny Bruce, there is a straight line to David Steinberg, Jackie Mason, Jerry Seinfeld, Larry David, Joan Rivers, Sarah Silverman, etc., etc. etc.
The Jewish comedic tradition is contagious. There is a relatively new genre of religious Christian comedians, as well.
Jewish comedians have all had a range of relationships with the Jewish community (what else is new?) Some have been connected; others, not so much.
But, the rabbi connection is particularly strong. Consider: David Steinberg is the son of a rabbi, and he once studied theology in Israel. Jackie Mason is an ordained rabbi. Sarah Silverman’s sister is a rabbi. My friend and colleague Bob Alper is a comedian. Rabbi Moshe Waldoks has done stand up comedy for years, and co-authored (with Bill Novak, father of actor B.J. Novak) The Big Book of Jewish Humor.
And Amy Schumer was a religious school cutup. In this, she follows in a noble tradition. According to ancient legend, Abraham was a rebellious kid who asked impertinent questions. We can certainly imagine Baruch Spinoza, the heretic of Amsterdam, sitting in the back of his religious school classroom, cracking jokes.
So, yes — being Jewish can be funny, and being funny can be Jewish. In particular, stand up comedy. It’s about being out there alone on the stage. This is very Jewish. Throughout history, Jews have gone out onto the stage of history, often facing hostile crowds, and we have been able to laugh at ourselves and others. Purim, the essential Jewish comedy festival, reminds us: laughter has been our most potent weapon against our enemies.
So, Amy, this one’s for you. It’s from the Talmud, which can often be hysterically funny, whether or not the ancient sages intended it that way.
Two rabbis were taking a stroll in the marketplace, and they ran into Elijah, the prophet (who, according to lore, never really died, and apparently kept on coming back to earth in various disguises). They asked the prophet: “Who in this marketplace is most deserving of reward in the World to Come?”
The prophet pointed to two men. The rabbis asked the two men about their professions. They replied: “We are jesters. When people are sad, we make them happy.”
That’s why we like people who are funny. They make us happy.
And they remind us of something else. There is a connection between “humor” and “human.”
Laughter keeps us human.
editor@jewishweek.org
James Franco, actor and surrealist, is having a Bar Mitzvah in October to support the cause of Alzheimer's awareness. The ceremony will be part of a variety show put on by Hilarity for Charity, Seth Rogen's Alzheimer's philanthropy. Rogen's mother was diagnosed with an early-onset version of the disease at age 55. NATIONAL
Seth Rogen Invites You To James Franco’s Bar Mitzvah
Alzheimer’s awareness is inspiring the two actors to sing “hava negillah.”
Carly Stern
Editorial Intern
James Franco and Seth Rogen at a premiere for their film "The Interview." Getty Images
At 37, James Franco is about to become a man.
On October 17, at the Hollywood Palladium in California, the actor, whose mother is Jewish, is set to become a bar mitzvah as part of a variety show for actor Seth Rogen’s Hilarity For Charity organization, which seeks to promote awareness of Alzheimer’s Disease.
“Ever since I’ve known James, he’s been wanting a bar mitzvah,” said Rogen, who shared a big break with Franco in 1999’s “Freaks and Geeks,” in a statement.
Franco will most likely not be plagued by braces, acne, or a high-pitched voice on his big day, which means attendees, who can purchase tickets for the event starting on August 11, can expect more intentional comedic hijinks from the Jewdo (Jewish duo) behind last December’s “The Interview.”
Past Hilarity For Charity events have included other humorous members of the tribe such as Sarah Silverman, Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Paul Rudd. Last summer’s prom- themed affair allowed the organization to raise over $1 million.
For Rogen, whose mother in law was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s at 55, the event is personal. Along with his wife, Lauren Miller Rogen, he created Hilarity for Charity in 2012 to raise awareness of the disease amongst those in the millennial generation.
As this is the organization’s first Jewish affair, Rogen promises it won’t disappoint.
“In celebration we’ll also have a mohel and a live bris for James at the event,” said Rogen in a statement. “You don’t want to miss it.”
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We've also got a story that should be a movie. A newly published cache of letters between a Jewish soldier who helped liberate the camps after World War II and his wife is powerful history and a love story, both. NATIONAL
History, And A Love Story, Both
Newly published letters offer striking window into WWII’s key moments — and of a young couple’s bond.
Carly Stern
Editorial Intern
The collection includes more than 1,000 letters between Sandy and Hyman Schulman and photos taken by Schulman. Courtesy of POBA
In April of 1945, unbeknownst to most Americans, the liberation of Buchenwald had begun.
However, one Brooklyn resident was notified of each of the concentration camp’s post-war milestones as they unfolded. Sandy Schulman received the news of everything from its first Jewish service to the relocation of its former prisoners through letters from her husband, a U.S. soldier at the time.
“Yesterday we visited something that you might have already read about in the newspaper or heard about over the radio,” wrote Pvt. Hyman Schulman on April 11. “Not very far from here, there is a concentration camp.”
The note goes on to describe the camp as having “bodies lying around made in the most grotesque positions” and a “crematorium where the bodies were burned after being [pulled] out of the lime pits in which they were first thrown.”
“The stench was nauseating, the sight ghostly, and the feeling we had for such barbarians could only be imagined,” wrote Schulman.
His letter is part of a collection of over 1,000 World War II correspondences between the then-newly married couple. The more than 6,500 pages, after languishing untouched in an attic for 70 years, have been organized, scanned and made digital. The New York Times first reported the story.
The digitizing was done with the help of the nonprofit organization, POBA: Where The Arts Live, a self-described “virtual cultural arts center,” that promotes and preserves the work of unrecognized artists from the 20th and 21st centuries.
In the case of the Schulman letter, a project devoted to preserving the art of letter writing took on new meaning as the significance of the works emerged.
“When I began to understand the historic importance of where Hy had been … I realized that we had something that was really important to preserve,” said Jennifer Cohen, a POBA founder. “As well as a great love story," she added.
During the course of his army career, which began in 1942, Schulman wrote almost every day to his Brooklyn-based wife. Letters describe fighting and being injured in the Battle of the Bulge, for which he received a Purple Heart, as well as being appointed an aide to Rabbi Herschel Schacter, a Jewish chaplain.
“You can’t imagine how appreciative I am,” wrote Schulman on receiving the position, which allowed him to leave the front lines. “I know that I was a good soldier, darling, not the bravest by a long shot but a good, steady fellow who kept his fear within him, but how long can a fellow go on that way ... [?]”
Due to his background, Schulman’s position, at first temporary, became permanent.
“We were both brought up as very observant Jews,” wrote Sandy Schulman in an email to The Jewish Week. “In addition to getting an assistant he could really rely on with Hy, Rabbi Schacter also got someone who could actually help lead services.”
One particular service stands out in Schulman’s letters.
“We started making arraignments for a Jewish service to be held within the camp,” Schulman wrote to his wife on April 24. “It was the most inspiring thing imaginable. Try to picture my darling, men who were in all different phases of physical conditions. From those who appeared healthy to those who were half starved, all Jews, all inspired by their newfound freedom, all full of emotion at attending their first free Jewish service in about 10 years.”
Such devotion to the Jewish faith was something Schulman found continuously among the newly liberated prisoners. In another letter, dated April 28, around the time of Passover, Schulman recalls handing out matzah to 1,500 people in Buchenwald, who waited patiently to eat until the proper blessing was recited by a rabbi.
“When it came to dividing other stuff it was an entirely different story,” wrote Pvt. Schulman. “They all clamored and pushed to get as much as they could.”
Among the POBA collection are Schulman’s photographs of Buchenwald and its prisoners as well as letters written in Yiddish years later that were sent to Schulman by survivors whom he helped reunite with family members after the war ended.
They also contain accounts of other notable events such as the death of President Franklin Roosevelt and VE Day.
However, for Sandy Schulman, whose husband died in 2013 at 91, the letters remain more of a personal relic. Though during his lifetime, Hyman did not wish to relive the events that he witnessed, Sandy Schulman now relishes the romantic moments found in the exchange. Her favorite moment: when Hyman managed, with the help of the Red Cross, to send over roses in honor of their anniversary, which also happened to fall during the Battle of the Bulge.
“For them, this was a very personal correspondence,” said Cohen. “They certainly knew that they were living in extraordinary times. But this was really the correspondence between a young, recently married couple in love, waiting to be reunited."
carly@jewishweek.org
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/kx9spb0DoxY?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Shabbat Shalom,
Helen Chernikoff
Web EditorTTHE JW Q&A
When Bibimbap And Blintzes Share The Family Table
Helen Kim and husband Noah Leavitt are the leading experts on Asian-Jewish intermarriage in the United States.
JTA
Helen Kim and Noah Leavitt, parents in an Asian-Jewish family, have pioneered study of such intermarriages. Kim-Leavitt family
Whitman College professors Helen Kim and her husband, Noah Leavitt are the leading, and virtually only, experts on Asian-Jewish intermarriage in the United States. The two — she’s Korean-American, he’s Jewish — recently spoke with JTA by phone from Walla Walla, Wash., where they live with their 6-year-old son Ari and 3-year-old daughter Talia. This is an edited transcript.
Q: You’ve published two studies on Asian-Jewish families: the first on couples, the second on grown children of Asian-Jewish parents. What do you see as the most significant findings?
A: Kim: The most significant thing about both talking with the couples as well as the kids is that these families are definitely creating Jewish homes and raising their kids as Jews.
But isn’t that because couples and individuals with stronger Jewish ties are more likely to volunteer for a study about Jewish-Asian families?
Leavitt: We tried to select from as wide a diversity of feelings about Judaism as possible. We weren’t looking for particular kinds of Judaism or levels of attachment to Judaism.
Any idea how many Jewish-Asian households there currently are in the United States, or what percentage of Jews who intermarry marry Asians?
Kim: We don’t. The U.S. Census is barred from collecting religious identification information, and among Jewish researchers, the collection of racial demographics is just beginning.
To what extent do your findings reflect your own experiences as an Asian-Jewish couple?
Kim: There were definitely some similarities. One of the things our interviewees talked about was feeling like they didn’t really know how to transmit a sense of Asian ethnicity. Whereas the Jewish piece, regardless of what their attachment or experiences with Judaism were like in the past, they always talked about feeling like there was a synagogue or JCC or Hebrew school they could go to. Those issues certainly play out in terms of our family. ... Doing the Jewish piece is perhaps easier because there is a Jewish community even in a place like Walla Walla. ... Not so much for the Korean piece or the Asian piece. It’s harder, because often there isn’t the same type of community with a critical mass or organizational structure.
Was your marriage a source of conflict within your extended families?
Kim: No, and in terms of the couples that we interviewed, there was very little conflict. The way couples explained that [lack of conflict] was their perceived cultural similarities [such as a shared emphasis on family, education and achievement].
In your recent study, you asked people with an Asian parent and a Jewish parent what advice they’d offer for Asian-Jewish couples with children. What did they say?
Leavitt: They over and over said that they would encourage parents to provide as much as possible of everything. ... They said, “Make sure you’re giving kids as many options to understand what they’re about, because they’ll be more confident.” Sometimes there’s parental anxiety about confusing kids, but the people we interviewed said, “Give it all to us, because we can sort it out.”
Your latest study is called “Funny — You Don’t Look Jewish.” Did the people you interviewed hear this a lot?
Kim: A number of the kids look [racially and ethnically] ambiguous to a casual observer. … A lot of people felt their Jewish identity was called into question because they didn’t look like what people think Jews in this culture look like. The couples were very attentive to the racial presentation of their kids, especially when they had more than one kid and they presented differently and were treated differently based on that. One of the things that happened was the kids responded to not being guessed for who they are by developing a conscious cultural identity about being Jewish..
editor@jewishweek.org
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TRAVEL
The Taverna Economy
Hilary Danailova
Travel Writer
Despite its ongoing fiscal crisis, Greece is still an inviting location for tourists. Wikimedia Commons
Are you nervous about the idea of a Greek vacation? Don’t be. Economic turmoil notwithstanding, Greece remains one of the world’s most beguiling destinations.
Gripped by austerity, humbled by headlines, this Balkan country is undeniably in crisis. Greek culture is at the heart of modern Europe — politically, culturally, linguistically — but today Greece lies firmly on the Continent’s margin, in terms of both economics and borders. As it wrestles with debt, recession and an ever-larger influx of migrants, Greece essentially wrestles with its role in a remade Europe.
Yet the shimmering vastness of the Aegean, the tranquility of shady whitewashed villages and the olive groves that cling to ancient hillsides remain as alluring to modern visitors as they were for Odysseus.
Readers know that I vacation in Greece frequently — and since the onset of this recession, I find a certain moral satisfaction in supporting an economy in distress. Choosing to spend my vacation dollars on locally caught fish in a family-owned taverna feels like a tiny, personal contribution to tikkun olam on a micro level. Does the taverna owner pass along all the taxes on that fish? Probably not. Is his business vital to his family and to a lovely, historic and welcoming community? Undoubtedly.
During sojourns along the Mediterranean, I have had ample occasion to contemplate austerity’s bitter yield. My family and I were in Greece two months ago; with resorts full of sunburnt Northern European tourists, we might never have known there was a crisis underway.
But even the most sheltered tourist cannot fail to notice the angry graffiti, the mobs in public squares waving signs and chanting, the odd trashcan set aflame. Smart travelers know not to be afraid; a few blocks away in any direction, life goes on as usual. A tourist in Athens or Barcelona still has more to fear from pickpockets than from protesters.
The real damage is more subtle. As I have witnessed — and as many economists have observed — austerity has had a profoundly negative effect on societies from Spain to Greece. What looks to Germans like fiscal discipline looks to Spaniards, Greeks and others like a self-perpetuating cycle of contraction. Workers get laid off; there are fewer consumers to spend money on restaurants and books and taxis; restaurants and bookstores go out of business, taxi drivers sit idle, and even fewer consumers remain to propel the economy forward.
Society goes on, but there is less of everything. Train and bus schedules are cut, making rides more crowded and less frequent. The little niceties are gone: no reception after the concert or book talk, no bonus at holiday time for the manager.
But the biggest casualty of all is hope. An entire generation of educated young people migrates elsewhere — a phenomenon that resonates strongly with Jews, whose history of economic migration has lately been eclipsed by the flight-from-persecution narrative.
As travelers, every dollar we spend in a distressed society is a small weapon against the scourge of hopelessness. And the relaxation you can buy on these Mediterranean shores is a pleasant investment indeed.
All right, you may ask — but can I actually get the cash to pay my hotel bill? For 2015 visitors to Greece, bank closures and restrictions on ATM withdrawals are the most significant challenge. At press time, Greek banks were still subject to closures and cash withdrawal limits — a situation made all the more bothersome by the reality that Greece is still a mostly cash-based society.
You can usually use your Visa or MasterCard at gas stations, in larger stores and at many businesses in resort areas, though I have found American Express to be basically useless outside of international chains. But cash is essential.
The good news is that euros are widely available elsewhere. So if you expect to be in Greece, plan ahead: Drop by an American Express office or change bureau to purchase euros before your trip, or use an ATM in another country before entering Greece (an airport connection can be useful for this). While there, use plastic whenever possible to conserve your cash on hand.
The ubiquity of cash is not coincidental to Greece’s current situation. You may notice, as I did, a striking disconnect between the poverty trumpeted in headlines and the visible affluence of Greek society. Despite their troubles, Greeks look comfortable — and over time I understood that what comfort exists stems in no small part from a culture where private wealth, earned in a gray economy, is often hoarded in euro notes.
That’s the paradox of corruption: it enriches the individual and impoverishes the society. Regardless of policy proposals, Greece will ultimately have to rebuild from the inside out, spiritually as well as economically, one taverna at a time. It’s a situation far too complex for this traveler to resolve — but I am happy to do my small part, raising a glass of ouzo to a post-austerity future. hillary@jewishweek.org.
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BACK OF THE BOOKCULTURE VIEW
The Pipeline Of Broken Dreams
Daniel Schifrin
Special To The Jewish Week
Daniel Schifrin
In one-woman shows like “Fires in the Mirror,” about the Crown Heights riots, and “Twilight: Los Angeles, 1992,” about the violence following the Rodney King affair, Anna Deavere Smith helped create a new kind of theater. Playing dozens of characters, all based on extensive interviews with real people, Smith provoked an unusual level of audience empathy, in part because she literally embodied those peoples’ stories. The violence she chronicled — which is at base a failure of empathy — was reversed in the telling of the story.
In her new work, called “Notes From the Field: Doing Time in Education — The California Chapter,” Smith explores the school-to-prison pipeline, a journey — undertaken primarily by people of color — from poor and broken schools to well-funded and high-functioning jails.
In the middle of what Smith is calling a work-in-progress, now on stage at theBerkeley Repertory Theater, audience members were surprised that their intermission was replaced by small group discussion. Minyans of strangers gathered together in the courtyard and by the bathrooms to reflect on what they had heard; imagine what a healthier society would feel like; and offer one thing they could do to make that vision a reality.
As Smith explained in the program: “I want to sound an alarm. I see the theater as a convening place, where you, for the most part strangers to one another, can come together to exchange ideas, suggest solutions, and possibly, when I’m gone, mobilize around what should be done.”
Although one person in my row complained that “I feel like I’m back in school,” most of us were moved and challenged by our assignment. All of us had spent this violent year watching the primary result of the pipeline of broken dreams — the deaths of African-Americans, or the deaths of the dreams of African-Americans, or both. And now we were presented with a conduit for conversation.
What we — mostly middle-aged white people planning on expensive post-performance gelato — didn’t say, was that we were still likely to get home in one piece from a theater in a safe part of down.
I write this on the eve of Tisha b’Av, when we read the Book of Lamentations, which we call by the first Hebrew word in the book, “Eicha,” or “How?” How, Jeremiah asks, have we allowed ourselves to sin Jerusalem into destruction? How do we recover from this failure? How do we understand the covenant that we hope still stands between us and God?
Rabbinic commentators suggest that Jerusalem is not just the actual, historical city, but a mythic construction, a metaphor for our collective psyche, even a living being. The language of these Lamentations embodies Jerusalem as a disgraced wife, or a forlorn daughter.
New ideas in urban planning, a field not known for poetic language, also call upon the metaphor of the body. When neighborhoods are cut off from the rest of the city — without access to good schools, food, parks and gardens — they wither and die. And if enough appendages die, the whole body shuts down.
Sometimes it feels like the disconnect between parts of our cities, between the racial elements within our collective Jerusalem, has made us morally anemic. Do we not see the disconnect between those groups for whom the covenant with America has held, and those for whom it has been broken?
Eicha doesn’t only dwell in sadness; it also rises up in righteous rage, at the politicians who cover up our nation’s sins with re-direction and entertainment, blame and bling: “Your prophets have seen false and senseless visions for you, and they have not exposed your iniquity to straighten out your backsliding, but have prophesied for you false and misleading oracles.”
The genius of Torah, of its stories, is that it compels us to break down the walls between us and them, between yesterday and today. The ritual of reading Eicha requires the painful attendance of community, forcing us to listen, to feel, to ask questions.
The genius of political theater is that it breaks down the “fourth wall,” the wall separating not only customer and entertainer, but also art and action, fiction and reality. I ask the question, then, of our moral literatures: What is the purpose of our collective stories if not to encourage the presence of empathies? And if encouragement is insufficient to force their attendance onto the stage of wisdom, then perhaps we deserve the breaking not just of the fourth wall of fiction, but of the first, second and third walls of the city itself.
Daniel Schifrin’s column appears every other month.
Anna Deavere Smith, Notes From the Field: Doing Time in Education — The California Chapter.
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BLOGS:
WELL VERSED
Inside Israeli’s Sapir Prize
Jerome Chanes
Namdar
Nudging aside Rabbi Shlomo Riskin and the shenanigans of the Israeli Chief Rabbinate in the news of the day in late May was the tarorom over the awarding of Israel’s Sapir Prize—Israel’s premier literary award — to Israeli author Reuven Namdar for his stunning novel “The House That Was Destroyed,” which chronicles a year in the life of a New York academic.
The Sapir Prize identifies, recognizes, and rewards (financially) the best book that was published during the year in the Hebrew language.
All to the good. Reuven Namdar’s novel was rightly acclaimed as a tour-de-force in the genre, and Namdar appeared to fit the key criterion: he is an Israeli author.
Or is he?
Within minutes of the award, voices literary and general complained that Namdar has been living in New York for years, has an “American” family, and by appearance has little intention of returning to Israel. In the words of a leading Israeli literary critic and historian, “He’s not an Israeli; he’s an American. Period.”
For its part, the Sapir Prize wasted little time in tweaking its protocols. The new guidelines, adopted in May, require that the candidate be an Israeli who is living and working in Israel. The requirement, to go into effect immediately, that the Sapir be awarded only to residents, created a new debate, one over Israel’s responsibility for the broad rubric of Hebrew culture — wherever it may reside. Sapir, for its part, maintains that its responsibility is to allocate precious resources to those writers who have made the tough choice to remain in Israel. The argument, by extension, is that Israelis have a responsibility to ensure that arts and letters in Israel will continue to be a top priority.
“No, no!” assert those who don’t like the new guidelines. The mission of Israel is to support Hebrew belle-lettres wherever they are crafted. Indeed, the very fibre of Hebrew literature is, at least in part, that of the Diaspora — and Sapir ought acknowledge that reality.
The next Sapir will be awarded in early 2016. Stay tuned.
Jerome Chanes writes about Jewish — including Israeli — arts and letters. He is the author of four books on Jewish history and American Jewish public affairs.
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Schumer: Canary In The Coalmine
Douglas Bloomfield
Benjamin Netanyahu declared war on the Iran nuclear agreement and launched a major lobbying campaign to bury the hated deal crafted by his nemesis, Barack Obama.
The Prime Minister will be meeting every American politician who comes to Israel during the August congressional recess and working the phones with the rest of them. He's not only mobilized his government but his political allies, particularly the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC).
The number one target of the multi-million-dollar campaign is Sen. Chuck Schumer, the man who claims the title "Shomer Yisrael," guardian of Israel, and wants to be the next Senate Democratic leader. The challenge facing the Brooklyn Democrat is how to retain both titles.
He's keeping quiet but you can bet he's already had personal phone calls from Obama, Netanyahu and everyone whose ever written a large check for his campaigns and causes.
Although an outspoken critic of Iran and advocate of tough sanctions, he has been careful not to tip his hand, insisting he wants to see the details of the agreement before making any commitment --an uncommon example of statesmanship in an environment in which most Republicans will automatically oppose any agreement that wears President Obama's imprint.
Schumer, now number three in Senate Democratic hierarchy, is the chosen (and presumptive) successor to retiring leader Harry Reid of Nevada.
Many of his colleagues, not just the undecided, will be watching to see what Schumer does. He will be the canary in the coalmine who will give the first signals as to whether the deal can survive or will quickly run out of air.
He will be watched for his dual roles as a party and Jewish leader – he has boasted of being Netanyahu's best friend on Capitol Hill. As he goes on the Iran agreement many of his Democratic colleagues are likely to follow, knowing they have the cover of their next leader and a pro-Israel shtarker with nearly 1.8 million Jewish constituents.
Republicans will probably vote unanimously against the agreement, not on the merits but out of spite and politics. So resolutions of disapproval will easily pass both GOP-controlled chambers and be vetoed. Obama will then need only one third plus one of the votes in either chamber to sustain his veto. The primary target will be the Senate, where Obama will need 34 of the 46 Democrats, assuming Republicans vote en bloc.
And that's why Schumer's vote is so critical. He has called this one of the toughest decisions he's ever had to make. He will face enormous pressure from the White House, from his friend Bibi, from pro-Likud Jewish organizations and from single-issue pro-Israel Jewish political donors.If Schumer joins the opposition and brings down the President's Iran deal, he can give cover to Democrats who want to vote against it, and he can probably kiss goodbye to his chances of becoming Senate Democratic leader..
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____________________________
History, And A Love Story, Both
Newly published letters offer striking window into WWII’s key moments — and of a young couple’s bond.
Carly Stern
Editorial Intern
The collection includes more than 1,000 letters between Sandy and Hyman Schulman and photos taken by Schulman. Courtesy of POBA
In April of 1945, unbeknownst to most Americans, the liberation of Buchenwald had begun.
However, one Brooklyn resident was notified of each of the concentration camp’s post-war milestones as they unfolded. Sandy Schulman received the news of everything from its first Jewish service to the relocation of its former prisoners through letters from her husband, a U.S. soldier at the time.
“Yesterday we visited something that you might have already read about in the newspaper or heard about over the radio,” wrote Pvt. Hyman Schulman on April 11. “Not very far from here, there is a concentration camp.”
The note goes on to describe the camp as having “bodies lying around made in the most grotesque positions” and a “crematorium where the bodies were burned after being [pulled] out of the lime pits in which they were first thrown.”
“The stench was nauseating, the sight ghostly, and the feeling we had for such barbarians could only be imagined,” wrote Schulman.
His letter is part of a collection of over 1,000 World War II correspondences between the then-newly married couple. The more than 6,500 pages, after languishing untouched in an attic for 70 years, have been organized, scanned and made digital. The New York Times first reported the story.
The digitizing was done with the help of the nonprofit organization, POBA: Where The Arts Live, a self-described “virtual cultural arts center,” that promotes and preserves the work of unrecognized artists from the 20th and 21st centuries.
In the case of the Schulman letter, a project devoted to preserving the art of letter writing took on new meaning as the significance of the works emerged.
“When I began to understand the historic importance of where Hy had been … I realized that we had something that was really important to preserve,” said Jennifer Cohen, a POBA founder. “As well as a great love story," she added.
During the course of his army career, which began in 1942, Schulman wrote almost every day to his Brooklyn-based wife. Letters describe fighting and being injured in the Battle of the Bulge, for which he received a Purple Heart, as well as being appointed an aide to Rabbi Herschel Schacter, a Jewish chaplain.
“You can’t imagine how appreciative I am,” wrote Schulman on receiving the position, which allowed him to leave the front lines. “I know that I was a good soldier, darling, not the bravest by a long shot but a good, steady fellow who kept his fear within him, but how long can a fellow go on that way ... [?]”
Due to his background, Schulman’s position, at first temporary, became permanent.
“We were both brought up as very observant Jews,” wrote Sandy Schulman in an email to The Jewish Week. “In addition to getting an assistant he could really rely on with Hy, Rabbi Schacter also got someone who could actually help lead services.”
One particular service stands out in Schulman’s letters.
“We started making arraignments for a Jewish service to be held within the camp,” Schulman wrote to his wife on April 24. “It was the most inspiring thing imaginable. Try to picture my darling, men who were in all different phases of physical conditions. From those who appeared healthy to those who were half starved, all Jews, all inspired by their newfound freedom, all full of emotion at attending their first free Jewish service in about 10 years.”
Such devotion to the Jewish faith was something Schulman found continuously among the newly liberated prisoners. In another letter, dated April 28, around the time of Passover, Schulman recalls handing out matzah to 1,500 people in Buchenwald, who waited patiently to eat until the proper blessing was recited by a rabbi.
“When it came to dividing other stuff it was an entirely different story,” wrote Pvt. Schulman. “They all clamored and pushed to get as much as they could.”
Among the POBA collection are Schulman’s photographs of Buchenwald and its prisoners as well as letters written in Yiddish years later that were sent to Schulman by survivors whom he helped reunite with family members after the war ended.
They also contain accounts of other notable events such as the death of President Franklin Roosevelt and VE Day.
However, for Sandy Schulman, whose husband died in 2013 at 91, the letters remain more of a personal relic. Though during his lifetime, Hyman did not wish to relive the events that he witnessed, Sandy Schulman now relishes the romantic moments found in the exchange. Her favorite moment: when Hyman managed, with the help of the Red Cross, to send over roses in honor of their anniversary, which also happened to fall during the Battle of the Bulge.
“For them, this was a very personal correspondence,” said Cohen. “They certainly knew that they were living in extraordinary times. But this was really the correspondence between a young, recently married couple in love, waiting to be reunited."
carly@jewishweek.org
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/kx9spb0DoxY?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Shabbat Shalom,
Helen Chernikoff
Web EditorTTHE JW Q&A
When Bibimbap And Blintzes Share The Family Table
Helen Kim and husband Noah Leavitt are the leading experts on Asian-Jewish intermarriage in the United States.
JTA
Helen Kim and Noah Leavitt, parents in an Asian-Jewish family, have pioneered study of such intermarriages. Kim-Leavitt family
Whitman College professors Helen Kim and her husband, Noah Leavitt are the leading, and virtually only, experts on Asian-Jewish intermarriage in the United States. The two — she’s Korean-American, he’s Jewish — recently spoke with JTA by phone from Walla Walla, Wash., where they live with their 6-year-old son Ari and 3-year-old daughter Talia. This is an edited transcript.
Q: You’ve published two studies on Asian-Jewish families: the first on couples, the second on grown children of Asian-Jewish parents. What do you see as the most significant findings?
A: Kim: The most significant thing about both talking with the couples as well as the kids is that these families are definitely creating Jewish homes and raising their kids as Jews.
But isn’t that because couples and individuals with stronger Jewish ties are more likely to volunteer for a study about Jewish-Asian families?
Leavitt: We tried to select from as wide a diversity of feelings about Judaism as possible. We weren’t looking for particular kinds of Judaism or levels of attachment to Judaism.
Any idea how many Jewish-Asian households there currently are in the United States, or what percentage of Jews who intermarry marry Asians?
Kim: We don’t. The U.S. Census is barred from collecting religious identification information, and among Jewish researchers, the collection of racial demographics is just beginning.
To what extent do your findings reflect your own experiences as an Asian-Jewish couple?
Kim: There were definitely some similarities. One of the things our interviewees talked about was feeling like they didn’t really know how to transmit a sense of Asian ethnicity. Whereas the Jewish piece, regardless of what their attachment or experiences with Judaism were like in the past, they always talked about feeling like there was a synagogue or JCC or Hebrew school they could go to. Those issues certainly play out in terms of our family. ... Doing the Jewish piece is perhaps easier because there is a Jewish community even in a place like Walla Walla. ... Not so much for the Korean piece or the Asian piece. It’s harder, because often there isn’t the same type of community with a critical mass or organizational structure.
Was your marriage a source of conflict within your extended families?
Kim: No, and in terms of the couples that we interviewed, there was very little conflict. The way couples explained that [lack of conflict] was their perceived cultural similarities [such as a shared emphasis on family, education and achievement].
In your recent study, you asked people with an Asian parent and a Jewish parent what advice they’d offer for Asian-Jewish couples with children. What did they say?
Leavitt: They over and over said that they would encourage parents to provide as much as possible of everything. ... They said, “Make sure you’re giving kids as many options to understand what they’re about, because they’ll be more confident.” Sometimes there’s parental anxiety about confusing kids, but the people we interviewed said, “Give it all to us, because we can sort it out.”
Your latest study is called “Funny — You Don’t Look Jewish.” Did the people you interviewed hear this a lot?
Kim: A number of the kids look [racially and ethnically] ambiguous to a casual observer. … A lot of people felt their Jewish identity was called into question because they didn’t look like what people think Jews in this culture look like. The couples were very attentive to the racial presentation of their kids, especially when they had more than one kid and they presented differently and were treated differently based on that. One of the things that happened was the kids responded to not being guessed for who they are by developing a conscious cultural identity about being Jewish..
editor@jewishweek.org
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TRAVEL
The Taverna Economy
Hilary Danailova
Travel Writer
Despite its ongoing fiscal crisis, Greece is still an inviting location for tourists. Wikimedia Commons
Are you nervous about the idea of a Greek vacation? Don’t be. Economic turmoil notwithstanding, Greece remains one of the world’s most beguiling destinations.
Gripped by austerity, humbled by headlines, this Balkan country is undeniably in crisis. Greek culture is at the heart of modern Europe — politically, culturally, linguistically — but today Greece lies firmly on the Continent’s margin, in terms of both economics and borders. As it wrestles with debt, recession and an ever-larger influx of migrants, Greece essentially wrestles with its role in a remade Europe.
Yet the shimmering vastness of the Aegean, the tranquility of shady whitewashed villages and the olive groves that cling to ancient hillsides remain as alluring to modern visitors as they were for Odysseus.
Readers know that I vacation in Greece frequently — and since the onset of this recession, I find a certain moral satisfaction in supporting an economy in distress. Choosing to spend my vacation dollars on locally caught fish in a family-owned taverna feels like a tiny, personal contribution to tikkun olam on a micro level. Does the taverna owner pass along all the taxes on that fish? Probably not. Is his business vital to his family and to a lovely, historic and welcoming community? Undoubtedly.
During sojourns along the Mediterranean, I have had ample occasion to contemplate austerity’s bitter yield. My family and I were in Greece two months ago; with resorts full of sunburnt Northern European tourists, we might never have known there was a crisis underway.
But even the most sheltered tourist cannot fail to notice the angry graffiti, the mobs in public squares waving signs and chanting, the odd trashcan set aflame. Smart travelers know not to be afraid; a few blocks away in any direction, life goes on as usual. A tourist in Athens or Barcelona still has more to fear from pickpockets than from protesters.
The real damage is more subtle. As I have witnessed — and as many economists have observed — austerity has had a profoundly negative effect on societies from Spain to Greece. What looks to Germans like fiscal discipline looks to Spaniards, Greeks and others like a self-perpetuating cycle of contraction. Workers get laid off; there are fewer consumers to spend money on restaurants and books and taxis; restaurants and bookstores go out of business, taxi drivers sit idle, and even fewer consumers remain to propel the economy forward.
Society goes on, but there is less of everything. Train and bus schedules are cut, making rides more crowded and less frequent. The little niceties are gone: no reception after the concert or book talk, no bonus at holiday time for the manager.
But the biggest casualty of all is hope. An entire generation of educated young people migrates elsewhere — a phenomenon that resonates strongly with Jews, whose history of economic migration has lately been eclipsed by the flight-from-persecution narrative.
As travelers, every dollar we spend in a distressed society is a small weapon against the scourge of hopelessness. And the relaxation you can buy on these Mediterranean shores is a pleasant investment indeed.
All right, you may ask — but can I actually get the cash to pay my hotel bill? For 2015 visitors to Greece, bank closures and restrictions on ATM withdrawals are the most significant challenge. At press time, Greek banks were still subject to closures and cash withdrawal limits — a situation made all the more bothersome by the reality that Greece is still a mostly cash-based society.
You can usually use your Visa or MasterCard at gas stations, in larger stores and at many businesses in resort areas, though I have found American Express to be basically useless outside of international chains. But cash is essential.
The good news is that euros are widely available elsewhere. So if you expect to be in Greece, plan ahead: Drop by an American Express office or change bureau to purchase euros before your trip, or use an ATM in another country before entering Greece (an airport connection can be useful for this). While there, use plastic whenever possible to conserve your cash on hand.
The ubiquity of cash is not coincidental to Greece’s current situation. You may notice, as I did, a striking disconnect between the poverty trumpeted in headlines and the visible affluence of Greek society. Despite their troubles, Greeks look comfortable — and over time I understood that what comfort exists stems in no small part from a culture where private wealth, earned in a gray economy, is often hoarded in euro notes.
That’s the paradox of corruption: it enriches the individual and impoverishes the society. Regardless of policy proposals, Greece will ultimately have to rebuild from the inside out, spiritually as well as economically, one taverna at a time. It’s a situation far too complex for this traveler to resolve — but I am happy to do my small part, raising a glass of ouzo to a post-austerity future. hillary@jewishweek.org.
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BACK OF THE BOOKCULTURE VIEW
The Pipeline Of Broken Dreams
Daniel Schifrin
Special To The Jewish Week
Daniel Schifrin
In one-woman shows like “Fires in the Mirror,” about the Crown Heights riots, and “Twilight: Los Angeles, 1992,” about the violence following the Rodney King affair, Anna Deavere Smith helped create a new kind of theater. Playing dozens of characters, all based on extensive interviews with real people, Smith provoked an unusual level of audience empathy, in part because she literally embodied those peoples’ stories. The violence she chronicled — which is at base a failure of empathy — was reversed in the telling of the story.
In her new work, called “Notes From the Field: Doing Time in Education — The California Chapter,” Smith explores the school-to-prison pipeline, a journey — undertaken primarily by people of color — from poor and broken schools to well-funded and high-functioning jails.
In the middle of what Smith is calling a work-in-progress, now on stage at theBerkeley Repertory Theater, audience members were surprised that their intermission was replaced by small group discussion. Minyans of strangers gathered together in the courtyard and by the bathrooms to reflect on what they had heard; imagine what a healthier society would feel like; and offer one thing they could do to make that vision a reality.
As Smith explained in the program: “I want to sound an alarm. I see the theater as a convening place, where you, for the most part strangers to one another, can come together to exchange ideas, suggest solutions, and possibly, when I’m gone, mobilize around what should be done.”
Although one person in my row complained that “I feel like I’m back in school,” most of us were moved and challenged by our assignment. All of us had spent this violent year watching the primary result of the pipeline of broken dreams — the deaths of African-Americans, or the deaths of the dreams of African-Americans, or both. And now we were presented with a conduit for conversation.
What we — mostly middle-aged white people planning on expensive post-performance gelato — didn’t say, was that we were still likely to get home in one piece from a theater in a safe part of down.
I write this on the eve of Tisha b’Av, when we read the Book of Lamentations, which we call by the first Hebrew word in the book, “Eicha,” or “How?” How, Jeremiah asks, have we allowed ourselves to sin Jerusalem into destruction? How do we recover from this failure? How do we understand the covenant that we hope still stands between us and God?
Rabbinic commentators suggest that Jerusalem is not just the actual, historical city, but a mythic construction, a metaphor for our collective psyche, even a living being. The language of these Lamentations embodies Jerusalem as a disgraced wife, or a forlorn daughter.
New ideas in urban planning, a field not known for poetic language, also call upon the metaphor of the body. When neighborhoods are cut off from the rest of the city — without access to good schools, food, parks and gardens — they wither and die. And if enough appendages die, the whole body shuts down.
Sometimes it feels like the disconnect between parts of our cities, between the racial elements within our collective Jerusalem, has made us morally anemic. Do we not see the disconnect between those groups for whom the covenant with America has held, and those for whom it has been broken?
Eicha doesn’t only dwell in sadness; it also rises up in righteous rage, at the politicians who cover up our nation’s sins with re-direction and entertainment, blame and bling: “Your prophets have seen false and senseless visions for you, and they have not exposed your iniquity to straighten out your backsliding, but have prophesied for you false and misleading oracles.”
The genius of Torah, of its stories, is that it compels us to break down the walls between us and them, between yesterday and today. The ritual of reading Eicha requires the painful attendance of community, forcing us to listen, to feel, to ask questions.
The genius of political theater is that it breaks down the “fourth wall,” the wall separating not only customer and entertainer, but also art and action, fiction and reality. I ask the question, then, of our moral literatures: What is the purpose of our collective stories if not to encourage the presence of empathies? And if encouragement is insufficient to force their attendance onto the stage of wisdom, then perhaps we deserve the breaking not just of the fourth wall of fiction, but of the first, second and third walls of the city itself.
Daniel Schifrin’s column appears every other month.
Anna Deavere Smith, Notes From the Field: Doing Time in Education — The California Chapter.
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BLOGS:
WELL VERSED
Inside Israeli’s Sapir Prize
Jerome Chanes
Namdar
Nudging aside Rabbi Shlomo Riskin and the shenanigans of the Israeli Chief Rabbinate in the news of the day in late May was the tarorom over the awarding of Israel’s Sapir Prize—Israel’s premier literary award — to Israeli author Reuven Namdar for his stunning novel “The House That Was Destroyed,” which chronicles a year in the life of a New York academic.
The Sapir Prize identifies, recognizes, and rewards (financially) the best book that was published during the year in the Hebrew language.
All to the good. Reuven Namdar’s novel was rightly acclaimed as a tour-de-force in the genre, and Namdar appeared to fit the key criterion: he is an Israeli author.
Or is he?
Within minutes of the award, voices literary and general complained that Namdar has been living in New York for years, has an “American” family, and by appearance has little intention of returning to Israel. In the words of a leading Israeli literary critic and historian, “He’s not an Israeli; he’s an American. Period.”
For its part, the Sapir Prize wasted little time in tweaking its protocols. The new guidelines, adopted in May, require that the candidate be an Israeli who is living and working in Israel. The requirement, to go into effect immediately, that the Sapir be awarded only to residents, created a new debate, one over Israel’s responsibility for the broad rubric of Hebrew culture — wherever it may reside. Sapir, for its part, maintains that its responsibility is to allocate precious resources to those writers who have made the tough choice to remain in Israel. The argument, by extension, is that Israelis have a responsibility to ensure that arts and letters in Israel will continue to be a top priority.
“No, no!” assert those who don’t like the new guidelines. The mission of Israel is to support Hebrew belle-lettres wherever they are crafted. Indeed, the very fibre of Hebrew literature is, at least in part, that of the Diaspora — and Sapir ought acknowledge that reality.
The next Sapir will be awarded in early 2016. Stay tuned.
Jerome Chanes writes about Jewish — including Israeli — arts and letters. He is the author of four books on Jewish history and American Jewish public affairs.
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Schumer: Canary In The Coalmine
Douglas Bloomfield
Benjamin Netanyahu declared war on the Iran nuclear agreement and launched a major lobbying campaign to bury the hated deal crafted by his nemesis, Barack Obama.
The Prime Minister will be meeting every American politician who comes to Israel during the August congressional recess and working the phones with the rest of them. He's not only mobilized his government but his political allies, particularly the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC).
The number one target of the multi-million-dollar campaign is Sen. Chuck Schumer, the man who claims the title "Shomer Yisrael," guardian of Israel, and wants to be the next Senate Democratic leader. The challenge facing the Brooklyn Democrat is how to retain both titles.
He's keeping quiet but you can bet he's already had personal phone calls from Obama, Netanyahu and everyone whose ever written a large check for his campaigns and causes.
Although an outspoken critic of Iran and advocate of tough sanctions, he has been careful not to tip his hand, insisting he wants to see the details of the agreement before making any commitment --an uncommon example of statesmanship in an environment in which most Republicans will automatically oppose any agreement that wears President Obama's imprint.
Schumer, now number three in Senate Democratic hierarchy, is the chosen (and presumptive) successor to retiring leader Harry Reid of Nevada.
Many of his colleagues, not just the undecided, will be watching to see what Schumer does. He will be the canary in the coalmine who will give the first signals as to whether the deal can survive or will quickly run out of air.
He will be watched for his dual roles as a party and Jewish leader – he has boasted of being Netanyahu's best friend on Capitol Hill. As he goes on the Iran agreement many of his Democratic colleagues are likely to follow, knowing they have the cover of their next leader and a pro-Israel shtarker with nearly 1.8 million Jewish constituents.
Republicans will probably vote unanimously against the agreement, not on the merits but out of spite and politics. So resolutions of disapproval will easily pass both GOP-controlled chambers and be vetoed. Obama will then need only one third plus one of the votes in either chamber to sustain his veto. The primary target will be the Senate, where Obama will need 34 of the 46 Democrats, assuming Republicans vote en bloc.
And that's why Schumer's vote is so critical. He has called this one of the toughest decisions he's ever had to make. He will face enormous pressure from the White House, from his friend Bibi, from pro-Likud Jewish organizations and from single-issue pro-Israel Jewish political donors.If Schumer joins the opposition and brings down the President's Iran deal, he can give cover to Democrats who want to vote against it, and he can probably kiss goodbye to his chances of becoming Senate Democratic leader..
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