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Friday, 16 January 2015
Dear Reader,
Guess which handsome older actor won the Genesis Prize, one of the Jewish world's biggest awards, this week? Hint: his father's given name is Issur Danielovitch. Too Hollywood, right?
Genesis Prize Taps Michael Douglas
Hollywood star cited for choosing Jewish life; seen as role model for interfaith youth.
Gary Rosenblatt
The winners: Actor Michael Douglas, left, and former Mayor Michael Bloomberg. Courtesy of Genesis Prize
Last June, when Michael Douglas was in Jerusalem to celebrate the bar mitzvah of his son, Dylan, he was seen walking with a limp, the result of helping to lift the bar mitzvah boy on a chair during the spirited dancing.
The famed Hollywood actor and producer will be taking on a different kind of heavy lifting in the coming year – that of a role model for Jewish identity, particularly among young people from mixed faith families. He was named this week as the recipient of the second annual Genesis Prize, often referred to as the Jewish Nobel Prize.
The presentation will take place in Jerusalem on June 18, and comic Jay Leno will serve as emcee as he did last June, when former New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg was the recipient of the inaugural prize.
Stan Polovets, cofounder and chairman of the Genesis Prize Foundation, which partners with the office of the Prime Minister of Israel and the Jewish Agency for Israel in selecting an honoree for the $1 million award, told The Jewish Week in an exclusive interview Monday that their goal this year was to emphasize “inclusiveness of Jews of intermarriage” within Jewish life. In choosing an internationally well-known figure from the entertainment industry who is the product of an interfaith family and has chosen to identify with Judaism and support Israel, Polovets said the foundation is highlighting “a growing reality, which must be addressed.” The foundation hopes to send an encouraging message that young people can take pride in their Jewish heritage and culture whether or not they are defined as Jewish by halachic standards.
This message is particularly relevant to Russian-speaking Jews throughout the diaspora, the majority of whose families are interfaith.
Genesis was founded by and is largely supported by wealthy Russian-speaking Jews committed to sustaining and deepening Jewish identity among young people.
Douglas, 70, is the son of Jewish actor Kirk Douglas (born Issur Danielovitch) and Diana Dill, who is Anglican. His wife, the actress Catherine Zeta-Jones, is not Jewish. But his son, Dylan, influenced in part by his grandfather as well as a school friend at whose home he observed Shabbat, requested a bar mitzvah, according to New York businessman and philanthropist George Blumenthal, a longtime friend of Douglas who attended the ceremony in Israel.
That event was “the tipping point for Michael” in terms of his renewed interest in Judaism, said Blumenthal. “He was always respectful of his heritage and now he has sought it out for himself.”
Anticipating pushback from traditionalists who may question honoring Douglas with an award perceived by some as recognizing a lifetime of accomplishment in Jewish affairs, Genesis Prize officials explained that their intention is to “support the vision of an inclusive global Jewish community,” cognizant of the demographics indicating increasing assimilation.
In effect, their focus was less on Jewish achievement this year than on Jewish potential.
“The Genesis Prize Foundation is proud to honor Michael Douglas, both for his professional achievements and for his passion for his Jewish heritage and the Jewish state,” said Polovets. “The Douglas family’s experience of connecting with its heritage and embracing it on their own terms embodies an inclusive approach for Jews of diverse backgrounds.”
“This is particularly important today,” he noted, “when the question of what it means to be Jewish has become more pressing than ever.”
Douglas was also cited for his “longstanding interest in his Jewish heritage,” his decision to raise his two young children as Jews (he also has an older son from his first marriage), his commitment to social justice and his “global recognition” as an actor who has won two Oscars.
On receiving the honor, Douglas said, “I share this award with my family, who encouraged me in my exploration of the Jewish faith. I hope these teachings and values will be part of the legacy in the world that I leave for my children and those who follow.”
Like Bloomberg, Douglas will donate the $1 million prize to charity, in this case to causes that promote inclusion and diversity in Jewish life.
Blumenthal, who first met Douglas in Israel in 1976, recalls conversations going back many years during which the actor noted, “People tell me I’m not Jewish.”
The fact that in spite of this he has chosen to link himself to Judaism is all the more impressive, according to several Jewish leaders interviewed about the choice of Douglas for the Genesis Prize. (Since the announcement was embargoed this week, only those who had been informed by the foundation were interviewed here.)
Eric Fingerhut, president and CEO of Hillel International, called the choice of Douglas “inspired,” and especially meaningful to his constituents of college students, many of whom are raised in multi-faith families. Honoring Douglas, who has chosen a Jewish identity, reinforces Hillel’s message of welcoming all those who wish to “explore and nurture their Jewish identity.”
Jerry Silverman, CEO of the Jewish Federations of North America, applauded the “wisdom” of the prize committee, which included Jewish Agency chair Natan Sharansky, Nobel Peace Laureate Elie Wiesel, Knesset Speaker Yuli Edelstein and former British Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks. “It’s important for people to realize that the prize specifically recognizes exceptional people whose values and achievements will inspire the next generation of Jews,” said Silverman, asserting that Douglas, who belongs to a congregation in Westchester, is “someone who can inspire others.”
Rabbi Yitz Greenberg, the founder of CLAL, the National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership, and a consultant to Genesis, said decisions about dealing with the offspring of interfaith families “will make or break us in the future,” and that as a Jew who follows halacha, “I welcome them on their terms,” though those terms are not his own.
Rabbi Greenberg said he supports the prize for Douglas because the actor’s “free choice, which is not based on separation, exclusion or rejection, but rather on embracing the blessings — past, present and future — of Jewish identity, is a very important role model for a Jewish people that fully participates in society and contributes to the welfare of all humanity.”
He added that the award “constitutes an implicit call on halachic authorities to get together with representatives of patrilineal Jews” to resolve the halachic issues and make clear “that the community wants [interfaith children] to be part of the Jewish future.”
Genesis Foundation officials expressed deep satisfaction with their choice of Bloomberg last year, noting that he visited Israel for four days at the time of the award ceremony, seemed increasingly comfortable in discussing his Jewish values, and made a point of flying to Israel on an El Al plane during the Gaza War last July as a sign of solidarity with Israel and in defiance of a Federal Aviation Administration flight ban on Ben-Gurion Airport.
“Would he have done it” had he not been a Genesis Prize laureate, a foundation official asked rhetorically. “I don’t know, but I believe his connection to Israel and Jewish life was heightened from the experience with us.”
gary@jewishweek.org
Another macher used to lots of laurels has been taking some darts of late. Noted lawyer and Israel supporter Alan Dershowitz has been accused of a sex crime. Columnist Jonathan Mark calls Dershowitz, his supporters and his detractors all out -- for somehow trying to make the accusation about Israel.
Defending Dershowitz, To A Fault?
Jonathan Mark
Alan Dershowitz. Wikimedia Commons
Former Harvard Law School professor and staunch Israel supporter Alan Dershowitz has been accused of having sex with an underage girl, the “sex slave” of a Dershowitz’ client, financier Jeffrey Epstein — which has, what exactly, to do with Israel?
The case involves four women who allege that they were sexually exploited by Epstein. They claim the government violated the Crime Victims’ Rights Act by agreeing to Epstein’s plea bargain without consulting them; that legal maneuver apparently led one of the women (Jane Doe No. 3) to say she slept with Epstein’s friends, Prince Andrew and Dershowitz.
Dershowitz denies ever meeting Jane Doe. Well, none of this had anything to do with Israel, until Rabbi Shmuley Boteach penned a column in the Observer (Jan. 5) defending Dershowitz because he is “America’s best known defender of Israel,” deserving our “gratitude,” so “where are the Jewish leaders to rise to Mr. Dershowitz’ defense?”
Rabbi Boteach admits, “There is no way any of us can know” if the charges are true. But who needs to know? The rabbi knows Dershowitz. “I believe Mr. Dershowitz, and not just because he denies it.”
Some Palestinian activists agree with Rabbi Boteach, at least insofar as this plea bargain dispute that has nothing to do with Israel is indeed about Israel.
Rania Khalek, writing in Electronic Intifada, a pro-Palestinian website based in Chicago, argues, “Dershowitz always felt children were fair game for Israeli missiles. Now the question is whether he thinks they are fair game for the sexual exploits of his powerful associates and himself.”
As for Rabbi Boteach, Khalek writes, “Demanding that Jews collectively and unquestioningly support Dershowitz against child molestation allegations as a form of tribal ‘gratitude’ for Dershowitz’s lifelong commitment to defending Israeli atrocities is both absurd and appalling.”
Dershowitz paused from his own counter-attacks against Jane Doe and her lawyers to tell the Jerusalem Post, yes, this case is about Israel, and that he was getting “all kinds of [antagonistic] emails [from] anti-Israel and anti-Semitic groups.”
Ronn Torossian, founder and the executive of 5W Public Relations, emails, “I do not believe he is a good spokesman for Israel or the Jewish people.”
For example, writes Torossian, whose clients include those on the Jewish right, Dershowitz defends President Obama, speaks out against settlements, and “advocates for the discrimination of Jews when he proclaims that Jews should not live in Hebron,” the flammable yet holy West Bank city, from which Jews were driven out in 1929 before returning in 1967.
Says Torossian, “As a proud Jew, I find the argument that [Dershowitz] should be protected because of his Jewishness to be despicable.” Torossian doubts Dershowitz even received all that many emails from anti-Semites, “but it is smart PR — sympathy does help when you are accused of rape.”
The most widely-read story on our website this week is a first-person account of Jewish life in France, and how it has changed, by a French woman whose uncle was one of those killed in the attack on the kosher grocery store.
When The Terror Hits Home
Niece of kosher supermarket victim reflects on the City of Light, hit by darkness.
Special To The Jewish Week
Mouchka Heller and her uncle, Philippe Braham, who was killed at a kosher market on Jan. 6. Courtesy of Mouchka Heller/Getty
Last Saturday night, a day after the terror attacks in Paris, my father called to say that my uncle, Philippe Braham, was killed as he was checking out at the Hyper Cache kosher supermarket, just before Shabbos. He was murdered in a neighborhood I know well, Porte de Vincennes, a few minutes away from my high school, and a mere 10-minute ride from my childhood home. He was one of mine, a relative, but together with all the other victims of the horrific crimes last week, he was also one of ours.
Philippe, who was 45 when he was killed last Friday, was anyone who has ever run into a grocery store with plans to run back out in a few minutes, just as the cartoonists killed in the Charlie Hebdo attack were anyone who has ever exercised their right to speak their mind. We fought for these rights in Europe and in the United States, first for some, then for all, regardless of opinion, religion, race or gender.
History books say that we won the battle. Yet, while the Jewish community in France was shocked and shaken by the events on Friday, we were also aware of a lengthy history of targeted violence.
I remember when everyday life in France began to change.
It was about a dozen years ago, and I was not yet a teenager. We lived in the 10th arrondissement, and all of a sudden, it seemed, I had to stop going to the library by myself to get my books for the weekend. I had a beautiful Magen David with blue gemstones, and my mother did not let me wear it outside. My sister and I were not allowed to go in the lobby of our apartment building alone to get the mail.
Around that time, we found swastikas scratched with car keys on our front door. Our mezuzah was stolen. We put another one on, and it too was stolen. Our car was broken into more times than I can recount. A heter, or religious edict, was given for Jewish men to not wear their kipas outside, to protect them from potential attacks.
Then, in 2006, Ilan Halimi was tortured by a gang of North African immigrants; he is remembered by us, forgotten by many others. Cars were burned. A friend was attacked with an ax. In 2012, Toulouse witnessed a Jewish school shooting that took the lives of a rabbi and three children
I remember the pain, every time a little bit sharper. The France I loved was under attack.
French Jews often talk about aliyah as a potential necessity, but never as something easy. (North African Jews immigrated to France during and after the wars of independence there in the 1960, largely because they felt a cultural tie to France.) Thousands have already left, many heading for Israel. After events like last week’s, the old questions are resurfacing, in my family and in many others in France. How could you not leave, when your child might not make it back from school, on a continent that knows the dangers of obscurantism all too well? At the same time, how could you leave, when these are the streets where you learned to walk, this is the language in which you say “I love you,” this is the first image your brain shows you when someone talks about home? On a very basic human level, when conditions threaten to pull you out of your home by the collar, how could you not hold on to the doorknob?
What is happening in France is very real and concrete, and it can be mistaken for a specifically French issue. It isn’t. The question is not about French Jews making aliyah or not. It isn’t about whether France should be blamed for not being safe enough. Jihadism is a transnational issue that affects values that we all claim to stand for. The families of the victims feel the loss of their loved ones, and they hear the cries of their children. These were innocents who were cut down for no reason other than what they represented. But what they represented is all of us. And this is what was attacked. By shooting the journalists at Charlie Hebdo, the terrorists shot all of us who write, read, talk and think. By shooting policemen and policewomen, they shot all of us who have ever protected someone. And by shooting the consumers of a kosher grocery store, they killed all of us who go about the life we have chosen for ourselves.
But if we keep the memory of those who have fallen, then the attackers shot at the power to write, but they missed; they shot at the power to read and think, but they missed; they shot at the responsibility we have in protecting our own, but they missed; they shot at our right to live the lives we have chosen for ourselves, but they missed.
Even as I write this, jihadists are likely walking around Paris with the keys they use to draw swastikas on car hoods, while we carry the keys of the friends’ apartment whose kids we are babysitting, or of the synagogue that we are opening up for a late-night shiur, or class. We are solidifying old institutions, and building new ones. Rather than succumbing to fear, we are rallying around the concept of solidarity, and hoping that the sentiment will hold. Resilience has shaped my generation. We’ve needed it.
In the midst of everything, all we hope for is to carry on with daily life, and in these times of distress, to stay strong and drink to life. Also, to remember the life of my uncle and the other victims of last week’s attacks. And to be able to stand shoulder to shoulder with the others doing their last-minute grocery shopping as another Shabbos arrives in Paris.
Mouchka Darmon Heller, who attended Yeshiva University, lives in New York City and works in the field of corporate regulatory strategy.
May this Shabbat truly be one of peace.
Best,
Helen Chernikof
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| "I have strong memories of Rabat from my childhood" Zrihan says. |
For Emil Zrihan, 'So Many Colors To Choose From'
Special To The Jewish Week
“I have strong memories of Rabat from my childhood,” Zrihan says.
It has been an unexpectedly hectic day for Emil Zrihan and the members of his band. They were unfortunate enough to land in a snowy New York City and everything has taken longer than expected. Their hotel rooms are being readied and Zrihan has already been checking around the neighborhood to buy food for their Shabbes meals, but when the group alights in the hotel lobby near the Flatiron Building, they are chipper, if a bit subdued.
Zrihan is one of the great voices in world music, a Moroccan-born Israeli cantor who has upheld the traditions of the Jewish music of his native country while incorporating flamenco, Western classical and other influences. Right now he is sitting in the moodily darkened lobby, a stocky figure in a black turtleneck and black kipa, poised and quiet. Only his soft tenor voice is animated as he answers questions in Hebrew, with an occasional phrase of French or English throw in for emphasis. When he makes one of his infrequent American concert appearances on Saturday, Jan. 17, that voice will ring out, bell-like, over the pulsating rhythms of his accompanists; it will be a plangent and often plaintive reminder of the riches offered by the spiritual and musical heritage of his two countries.
Zrihan came to Israel when he was “about 10,” he says, with several band members taking turns translating. “I have strong memories of Rabat from my childhood. I went to an Alliance Israélite Universelle school and to a Talmud Torah. I remember that we received a lot of support from American Jews who sent us clothing for school and even food. I remember the ...” — he struggles for the phrase — “powdered milk.”
He still returns regularly to Morocco and performs there to enthusiastic audiences.
“Moroccan Arabs and Jews were all the time together,” he says. “The Moroccan Arabs are not fanatics. They’re open, they have the culture and mentality of the French, in a positive way.”
Even so, Zrihan says, from the moment of the founding of the Jewish state, Moroccan Jews were educating their children for a future in Israel, and when the state was finally declared, he says, “Everyone left everything behind and went to Israel.”
Of course, the singer admits, it wasn’t quite that simple.
“So many had to change professions, you had doctors who became security guards,” Zrihan says, shaking his head. “They didn’t know about the army [obligations]. It was a very young country, everything was more difficult. Their perspective was that they came to contribute to the country, and that made it easier.”
One could say the same of the cultural situation in which the new olim found themselves. When Zrihan and thousands of North African Jews like him arrived in Israel in the 1950s, they found a cultural world dominated by the Ashkenazim who had created the Zionist movement, just as was the case in the political realm. There was little interest in their music or arts.
But with time, Zrihan says emphatically, that has changed.
“What is unique [about Israel] is that it is a country of a lot of cultures,” he says, leaning forward with a puckish smile. “People come from all over the world to be here. You hear French, Polish, Arabic, Russian on the streets. Jews, they all coming bringing their food, their rituals and their music.”
He sits back in his armchair and gestures with a downward swooping hand to indicate Israel’s place in the Mediterranean basin.
“We’re in the middle of all these cultural areas [and], like a crossroads we get all of them,” he continues. “So people are more open-minded in Israel to hear the culture of the Other.”
His own musical evolution is a reflection of that reality. Although its base remains the swirling, haunting melismas of Moroccan piyutim, religious poetry often dating back to the medieval period, Zrihan has added the staccato hand-clapping and guitar rhythms of flamenco, the lilting accordion of the bal musette and both Western and Arabic classical instrumentation.
“Today, we all collaborate,” he says with obvious satisfaction. “I have sung with all the main Ashkenazi singers. [Audiences] are more accepting, have a more open mind. We all deliver our cultures to each other.”
His smile grows as he warms to his subject.
“It’s like taking two colors as a painter,” he concludes. “You mix them and create a new color. And we have so many colors to choose from: young, old, Arab, Jewish, Orthodox, non-religious, Moroccan, European.”
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Exciting New Initiative For Jewish PreSchoolers With Special Needs
The author and her family. Courtesy of Alison Lobron
Editor's Note: We were thrilled that Alison Auderieth Lobron's blog on "The New Normal" helped her make an incredible connection and launch an exciting new pilot program for Jewish preschoolers!
For the last few years, I’ve been teaching a Social Pragmatics curriculum at the small, family-run preschool in our neighborhood. For the first couple of years, it was a great job. S was a student there, and our expectation was that G would soon follow. I was teaching about social development, emotional regulation and solving problems with friends … all while using great children’s books to support the lessons. Life was good.
Eventually, S graduated preschool and moved on to elementary. Because of G’s special needs, he only attended the neighborhood school for 2 months.
As soon as he turned three (and graduated out of Early Intervention), he transitioned to our town’s Integrated Preschool. There he continued to receive the speech therapy, occupational therapy, physical therapy and play therapy that he had previously been receiving through Early Intervention. The only one left at the neighborhood preschool was me.
I still enjoyed the content of what I was teaching, but in the past year or so, I began feeling ready to take a new step in my career. I didn’t have anything specific in mind, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to figure it out until I left my current job. So, I packed my bags and said good-bye to my dear friends Impulsive Puppy and Slow-Down Snail. (Don’t worry, I said good-bye to my human friends as well!)
I started putting more time into my creative pursuits, including working on my blog. I had a few pieces published on blogs that have a larger audience. After one such article was published on the New Normal: Blogging Disability, I received an email from Allison Berry. Allison identified herself as one of the rabbis at Temple Shalom of Newton, a large Reform congregation located around the corner from where I live. She also identified herself as a fellow autism parent, and asked if I’d like to meet some time.
We set a time, and met for coffee. We talked for a long time. We talked about autism, parenting, Jewish education and long term goals. Then, Allison turned to me and asked, “Alison, what’s your dream?”
Ever eloquent under pressure, I replied, “Huh?”
She repeated, “What’s your dream? What’s your dream for Jewish education, the Jewish community and our kids?”
I told her some things I’d been thinking about regarding inclusion, social-emotional learning embedded in Religious School curriculum, Religious School staff training around behavior management, that kind of stuff. Then, I asked her, “What’s your dream?”
She replied with a highly articulated vision of a social skills group, targeted at young children with autism and similar special needs, that would blend social skills and Jewish content and would take place in a synagogue.
I wasn’t expecting that.
I wasn’t expecting that at all, but it was awesome.
We went on to talk about an experience that we had both shared, one that we knew was common among our autism parent peers.
Where we live, choosing a preschool is a really big deal. I remember when S was a toddler, the question of “which preschool” was the predominant topic of conversation of almost any mommy-gathering. I even had a friend who made a spreadsheet listing the twelve schools she was considering, along with the pros and cons of each one!
When you discover your child has special needs, you also discover that he will need to go to the town’s Integrated Preschool, in order to get the services he will need. Not the school you lovingly selected after hours and hours of research and conversation. Not the school where his siblings go or went. Not the school where you work (in my case). Not the school that is part of your Jewish community (in Allison’s case).
It is very important to note that once G started at the Integrated Preschool, I absolutely fell in love with it. The quality of the program, the dedication of the staff, the knowledge of the teachers … unbelievable in every way. Life-changing for G and for our whole family. But, I’m talking about the sense of loss, when as a parent, you are confronted with the reality of the new path you must follow in order to meet the needs of your very young, newly diagnosed-child.
I remember that transition so clearly. I felt sad. I wished G could come to the school where I was teaching, and where S was still a student. I felt isolated. Why did I have to start again in a new place where I didn’t know any parents or any teachers? I already had a community at S’s preschool. I felt angry. Why wasn’t life following my carefully charted plan?
In my conversation with Allison, she described to me another loss that many parents feel at that particular juncture, and that is a loss of Jewish community. For me, while I mourned the loss of enrolling G in our neighborhood preschool, he was still able to attend the preschool program in our synagogue. Why? Because I was the teacher. When I reached the point that I felt I could meet his needs in my classroom, the education director and rabbi supported my decision.
However, for parents who have jobs other than Jewish preschool teacher, there might not be an easy way to access the Jewish community. Allison shared with me that over the last few years, she could name six or seven families who had enrolled their child at her synagogue’s preschool, only to leave for the Integrated Preschool. Those families never came back. Not to the synagogue’s preschool, not to the synagogue, and as far as she knew, not to the Jewish community.
What a loss. What a loss to the community. Who were these families? Were they potential synagogue presidents, committee members, social action coordinators, prayer leaders? We’ll never know.
But even more concerning to me than the loss of these families to us is the failure to support these families at this important juncture in their lives.
I remember the sadness, frustration, and loneliness when G left our neighborhood preschool to go to the specialized preschool. A major source of support at that time was (and still is) our synagogue. Caring friends, concerned clergy and teachers, fellow autism parents whose kids were older and who seemed to have all the answers.
I fell immediately in love with Allison’s idea. Creating a synagogue-based program for preschoolers with special needs. Creating a place for these kids and their families at this critical moment. I loved it.
And not only did she have a dream, she had a plan.
Within a week, we had a meeting with the directors of Gateways: Access to Jewish Education (Boston’s central agency for Jewish special education). Within a month, the directors of Gateways were wholeheartedly on board with the idea. They were ready to commit the organization’s resources, time and their enormous expertise to make the dream a reality. Within six weeks, they had assembled an amazing team of educators and specialists to work on the project. When Temple Shalom Nursery School graciously volunteered to house the pilot program, the final piece fell into place.
It’s been an exciting few months. I’ve been attending weekly meetings at Gateways to help design the curriculum. It’s been an enormous learning opportunity for me, as I’ve been able to see first-hand what it takes to turn an idea like this into reality. We will be teaching about Jewish holidays. The first holiday we teach will be Passover. It’s very exciting as we’re drawing extensively on the resources in the brand-new Gateways Haggadah, which has just been published by Behrman House. We’ll also be infusing social skills from “The Incredible Flexible You” curriculum developed by Michelle Garcia Winner. We’ve recruited five students for our pilot. Our pilot program (Holiday Detectives: Social Skills for the Seder Table) begins next week.
There it is. That’s what I’ve been up to it, and that’s why I’m so excited about it. Next week, I’ll take that next step I was hoping for in my career. I’ll be helping to welcome five students to the newly-created Holiday Detectives program. We’ll be in a synagogue. I’ll be reading great children’s books to them, and teaching the social thinking and problem-solving skills that I love to teach. Life is good.
Thank you, Allison, for including me in your dream.
Thank you, Gateways staff, for your enthusiastic responsiveness, and your amazing compassion, skills, and expertise.
Thank you, Temple Shalom Nursery School, for embracing this idea, and for welcoming this new program with open arms.
Thank you, pilot parents, for trusting us with your kids.
And thank you, friends, for reading this very long blog entry!!
Alison Auderieth Lobron is a wife, teacher and mom living in Newton, MA. She works in the field of children’s social and emotional development. Alison is the creator of the blog The View Through Autism Glasses, in which she writes about lessons she is learning while parenting her two very different children.
Young Jews Through A Russian-Speaking Lens
Men's evening learning program in Makarov Kollel. Anna Chana Demidova
Chabad on the Bowery recently played host to a group of young Jews, some wearing kippot or long skirts, others less clearly Jewish-affiliated. What made this event singular was that most of its attendees were speaking Russian or Russian-tinged English.
Corroborating Gary Rosenblatt’s recentarticle in The Jewish Week, which described how some young Russian Jews, “considered among the most unaffiliated and at-risk…in terms of Jewish identity” are finding their way back to Judaism, these young people were there under the auspices of COJECO’s Blueprint Fellowship, a series of cultural programs for young Russian-speaking Jewish adults. The evening’s program, “Re:Turn,” a joint photography exhibition and literary reading, featured the works of two young Blueprint fellows who reflect this trend towards Jewish involvement both in their lives and in their art.
Avital Chizhik, born in the U.S. to Russian immigrant parents and baalei teshuva, was brought up in the mainstream Orthodox world. But, Chizhik, a journalist whose essays have appeared in The New York Times, Tablet and Haaretz, seems to have maintained a certain Russian skepticism despite her immersion in that world. Her essays, along with the two short stories she read at the event, displayed the knowledge and familiarity of the insider with the detachment and objectivity of the looker-on. The stories, part of a yet unreleased collection called “In the Eighteenth Minute,” painted the Russian-Jewish émigré experience with a mixture of poignancy and humor, while exposing the contradictions and idiosyncrasies of orthodox Jewish life. Based on the appreciative chortles that resounded in the room throughout the reading, her references and descriptions clearly resonated with her audience.
Anna Chana Demidova, who is a student in economics at Columbia and an accomplished photographer, followed a different trajectory. Born in Belarus, she described her photographs both as a tribute to the Orthodox community that supported her and her family throughout their arduous journey to and in the U.S. and as a letter of support for Russian Jews returning to their heritage. At first glance, the photographs are simple shots of everyday observance: a newly-married couple dressed modestly; a child lighting a Chanukah menorah; young men studying. But like the young audience, the photos are distinguished not by their subject matter but by their subject — Russian Jews involved in their Judaism. From a group that seemed impervious to religion after their many years of Soviet-enforced divorce, these everyday activities are counter-intuitive, defiant, even heroic, each act of observance worth recording.
COJECO Blueprint Fellowship hosted "Re:Turn", a joint photography exhibition and literary salon, featuring the photographs of Anna Chana Demidova and the short fiction of Avital Chizhik. The COJECO (Council of Jewish Émigré Community Organizations) BluePrint Fellowship is a year-long program for Russian-speaking Jewish adults ages 25-40 to explore personal and collective identity through the creation of community projects, funded by the UJA-Federation of New York and Genesis Philanthropy Group.
Gloria Kestenbaum is a corporate communications consultant and freelance writer.
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| Food & Wine |
Recanati Breaks The Glass Ceiling
At $17, the acclaimed wine is easy on the wallet, as well.
Joshua E. London And Lou Marmon - Jewish Week Online Columnists
An Israeli wine has been included in the Wine Spectator magazine’s annual list of this year’s “Top 100 Wines.” It is quite an honor since the magazine’s editors sample over 18,000 wines from around the world before selecting their favorite 100 wines of the year based upon “quality, value, availability and excitement.”
To the Spectator’s list of numerous seasoned, well-established wineries, and wines costing in some instances hundreds of dollars per bottle, can now be found the Recanati Galilee Cabernet Sauvignon 2012 ($17).
A few years ago the Recanati Galilee Shiraz 2010 ($15), was named a “best buy” by the Wine Enthusiast magazine (a competing US wine magazine). So, all things considered, it is about time that an Israeli wine has finally made the Spectator’s Top 100 list.
As kosher wine consumers, our faithful readers, and more discerning and open minded wine geeks know by now, Israeli wines have been on a roll for a couple of decades now. Israeli wines have garnered critical global acclaim and increasing consumer acceptance, and all despite often poor marketing, dreaded “kosher shelf” placement in most fine wine shops, and typically less than competitive pricing. Yet talented and innovative winemakers, steady investments in modern technologies, and a greater appreciation of the local growing conditions have all combined to help produce some stellar, world class wines. The Israeli wine industry is thriving with new wineries appearing seemingly every month (by last count there is something like 400 wine producers operating now).
The Wine Spectator’s specialist covering Israeli wines, Kim Marcus, described the 2012 Recanati Cab as: “A rich red, showing good power to the mineral infused dried blackberry, dark plum and currant flavors. Engaging dried herbal notes emerge on the focused finish.” He scored it 90 points (out of 100). To our tastes, Mr. Marcus did a decent job. We additionally got some red cherry and floral qualities.
Located in the Hefer Valley, the Recanati Winery was founded in 2000 by Lenny Recanati. It is Israel’s sixth largest. Recanati’s current winemaking team, Gil Shatzberg (formally from Amphorae and Carmel wineries) and Ido Lewinsohn, create wines from Merlot, Zinfandel, Barbera, Petite Syrah, Cabernet Franc, Carignan, Viognier, Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc under four labels: Yasmin, Recanati, Reserve and Special Reserve.
Sure, these “luxury” and “wine geek” publications are fairly niche, but this is in fact an honor, and a well-deserved one at that. We fully expect that future such lists will feature wines from the many other outstanding Israeli wineries too.
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