Dear Reader,
Jewish news this week is both inspiring and disappointing.
The Jewish Week published its annual roundup of young leaders, the 37 millennials under the age of 36 who are reinventing the Jewish future. (There's a power couple, a rabbi and a writer, in the mix.) Spirituality
Reaching Out To Russian-Speaking Jews: Avital Chizhik Goldschmidt, 23 Rabbi Benjamin Goldschmidt, 27
Avital Chizhik Goldschmidt does most of her outreach to the Russian-speaking Jewish community through the printed word, publishing articles about émigré life and Jewish feminist issues for media outlets including the New York Times, Haaretz, Tablet and the Forward. She also teaches Torah classes.
Rabbi Benjamin Goldschmidt’s outreach is more public, delivering sermons from the pulpit of the Upper East Side’s Park East Synagogue, where he has served as assistant rabbi for three years; he also teaches adult education classes there, officiates at life cycle events, and established a “Sunday Shkola” program for the children of Russian-speaking families living in the neighborhood. Sunday Shkola offers art and dance, instruction about Jewish holidays and traditions and Russian-language lessons.
Married five months ago, the U.S-born daughter of late-1970s immigrants, and the Israeli-born son of Moscow’s chief rabbi (and the rabbi’s day school-founder wife) have disparate backgrounds but share a commitment to Jewish life.
“She spoke Russian in America. I spoke English in Russia,” Rabbi Goldschmidt said. Together, “passionately, unapologetically Orthodox,” they’re reaching out to the Upper East Side’s growing population of Russian-speaking Jews (“the kids of Brooklyn people,” Rabbi Goldschmidt said), often inviting locals to Shabbat meals.
Rabbi Goldschmidt said the rabbinate has always been his “first choice” as a career. “I have two passions: people, and Judaism,” he said. “This is a job that combines both.”
Leading by example: Rabbi Goldschmidt had a decade of experience leading communal seders, getting his feet wet at the age of 17, when he was given the job of leading a seder for students in their 20s at his father’s Moscow synagogue. His training: “watching my parents” deal with guests at Shabbat meals and seders at home.
Focus on fiction: Last month Chizhik Goldschmidt left her job as digital editor at the Jewish Agency in order to devote her time to writing. In addition to writing freelance articles, she’s working on a book of short stories, many devoted to émigré themes, called “In the Eighteenth Minute.”
@avitalrachel
avitalrachel.com
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Steve Lipman
36 Under 36
There's also Oliver Rosenberg, a self-described poster child for Modern Orthodoxy who has created a minyan for LGBTQ Jews.LGBTQ Leadership
Orthodox Davening, Gay Pride: Oliver Rosenberg, 29
A poster child for Modern Orthodoxy has founded a congregation for LGBTQ Jews and their allies.
When Oliver Rosenberg came out to his friends and family, he did so on a one-on-one basis. When he spoke about being gay for a communal cause, 800 people, mostly students he didn’t know, showed up to listen.
In 2008, Rosenberg was one of four members on a panel called, “Being Gay in the Orthodox World,” hosted by Yeshiva University, where Rosenberg went to school. The reaction was as split as Moses’ Red Sea. Faculty members were largely critical while students were supportive.
Inspired by the panel, a rabbi developed a statement of principles advocating for inclusion of LGBTQ people in the Orthodox community; over 300 Modern Orthodox rabbis from around the country signed the document. A nonprofit called Eshel, which provides inclusion education to Orthodox communities and resources to parents of LGBTQ Jews, also sprung from the event.
Growing up in Los Angeles, Rosenberg describes his younger self as “a poster child for Modern Orthodoxy.” Now, living on the Upper West Side, he is a leading member of the LGBTQ Jewish community as the founder of Or Chayim, a year-old congregation that holds monthly Orthodox-style Shabbat services and dinners for LGBTQ Jews and their allies.
“Shabbat dinner is a place for real conversation,” he said. “Orthodox or not, people know to keep their phones in their pockets.”
During the work week, however, Rosenberg’s phone is front and center. At the same time he started Or Chayim, Rosenberg launched Prealth, a healthcare tech start-up that is developing a medical cost comparison app. Rosenberg, a former investment banker, envisions the app as a sort of Uber for healthcare, allowing people to compare doctors based on cost, insurance information and patient reviews.
At night and on weekends, Rosenberg’s likely to be found spreading the word about Or Chayim.
The 2008 panel, he said, illuminated the sense of displacement many people felt when trying to reconcile their gay identity with their Judaism. Or Chayim was Rosenberg’s answer to that discord, cultivating a community that celebrates both identities equally. “People feel like I’ve given them a sense of belonging,” he said.
Kicking back: When Rosenberg isn’t spending his time launching congregations or tech start-ups, he can be found at Therapy — which is not a psychologist’s office, but a gay bar in Hells Kitchen.
Prealth.com
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Maya Klausner
36 Under 36
There's Tikvah Juni, a self-advocate who pushes for the inclusion of those with disabilities.Inclusion
Public Face Of Inclusion Advocacy: Tikvah Juni, 32
When Tikvah Juni was 16, she received her first standing ovation.
“I remember all the people, cheering and smiling,” said Juni, who had been the guest speaker at an event hosted by Yachad: The National Jewish Council for Disabilities.
“That was the first time I really believed the world could change,” she said. Since then, she’s been trying to change the world one speech at a time.
Juni, who has Down syndrome, travels around the U.S. teaching audiences about inclusion. In Washington, D.C., she even lobbied state and federal legislators to increase resources for special needs students.
Though she begins each speech with a thought on the weekly Torah portion, she ends by detailing her experiences as someone with special needs.
“I hate the words ‘disability’ and ‘consumer,’ she said, two words commonly used to describe those with special needs. “People with special needs aren’t takers, and we aren’t incapable. We want to be accepted just as much as everyone else.”
Growing up in the 1980s when inclusion was rarely a topic of conversation, Juni often felt excluded.
“Schools kept closing their doors to me after they heard about my special needs,” said Juni, who grew up in the Orthodox community of Flatbush. Socializing was also difficult, and Juni spent much of her childhood reading books instead of romping with friends.
“People didn’t treat me so nicely. They judged me by the way I looked,” she said.
Even today, audiences are often surprised when she first walks up to the podium. “They’re expecting someone big and important, and here’s this small little girl,” Juni said. “But when I start speaking, they shift their focus. It’s not about my exterior — it’s about what I’m saying.”
When not on speaking tours, Juni works with special needs children. During the school year, she serves as a preschool teaching assistant; in the summer, you can find her at Camp HASC.
To reach an even broader audience, Juni completed a several-hundred page book about her experiences. Though not yet published, she’s hoping one day her story, and her message, can reach thousands.
Capturing color: In her downtime, Juni loves oil painting. She is particularly fond of landscapes. “An artist can see the world in a way no one else can,” she said. “It’s important to notice things other people don’t.”
http://Facebook.com/tikvah.juni, njcd.org
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Hannah Dreyfus
36 Under 36
And Elana Simon, a cancer survivor who's also, at 19 years old, a cancer researcher.Medicine
Cancer Survivor, Cancer Researcher: Elana Simon, 19
At age 12, Elana was diagnosed with a rare form of liver cancer. Four years later, as a high school sophomore, she re-confronted her disease — as a medical researcher.
“This cancer had almost taken my life. Even though little research [on liver cancer] had been done, that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible,” said Simon, who grew up on the Upper East Side.
Her father, Sandy, a biophysicist, made space in his lab at Rockefeller University, and Simon set about collecting tumor samples from patients and survivors. Through genome sequencing, she found that all the samples shared the same genetic mutation.
“It was weird, but it was awesome to see all the pieces come together,” she said.
In February 2014, Simon co-authored a study, published in Science magazine, about the mutation. The next month, she personally presented her work to PresidentBarack Obama at the White House Science Fair.
“It was definitely a proud moment,” she said.
Today, a freshman at Harvard University studying computer science and dramatic arts, Simon hopes to pursue a future in high-tech medical research. This summer, as an intern at Facebook Inc., she hopes to learn more about trends in computer technology.
Simon’s Jewish identity has remained a source of pride and strength throughout her journey. One of her fondest Jewish memories was attending Camp Simcha, the Jewish camp for young cancer survivors and patients.
“It was one of the most uplifting places I’ve ever been,” she said.
She also grew up attending synagogue, and her family remains active members of Temple Shaaray Tefila.
Most important, however, is the value placed on family.
“My parents raised me to believe in the importance of family — it’s engrained in my Jewish identity,” she said.
To this day, her two heroes remain her father and the surgeon who removed her tumor.
“Both of them taught me how to give selflessly,” she said. “I hope, in my lifetime, I can learn to do the same.”
Trapeze artist: Simon’s favorite pastime is as lofty as her career aspirations. Since she was child, she has attended performing arts camp. Today, she is an experienced trapeze artist, taking classes in Midtown whenever she’s back in NYC.
Elanasimon.com
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Hannah Dreyfus
36 Under 36
And we could go on, so head on over to our photo wall to meet more of these fabulous folks.
But the community also struggled with a now-familiar sense of distress this week, as news broke of another sexual scandal in the rabbinate. The rumors that have long afflicted the Riverdale Jewish Center, that longtime Rabbi Jonathan Rosenblatt had allegedly invited boys to a sauna, became public, as his congregants had long feared they would.NEW YORK
Riverdale’s ‘Open Secret’ Goes Public
Congregants divided on Rabbi Jonathan Rosenblatt’s invitations to young men to join him in sauna.
Gary Rosenblatt
Editor and Publisher
Three years ago several prominent members of the Riverdale Jewish Center (RJC), the 700-member Modern Orthodox congregation, met privately with their longtime rabbi, Jonathan Rosenblatt, and offered to arrange a generous buyout for him. They told him that the persistent rumors about his allegedly inappropriate behavior with boys and young men were bound to become public at some point and it would be in his and his family’s best interest, and for the congregation as well, if he accepted an offer to resign quietly.
If he didn’t, he was told, “this could all end badly,” according to a member of the congregation with knowledge of the meeting.
“It was not meant as a threat, but rather that it would hit the press eventually and no one would see things as he did,” the person explained this weekend.
“Unfortunately, he refused, and now it’s all out there,” the person said, referring to a thorough New York Times May 31 report on Rabbi Rosenblatt’s “unusual” behavior that included inviting young men to discuss personal matters while sitting naked in the sauna with him.
The rabbi insisted, in the meeting, that he had done nothing wrong and had complied with previous requests from shul officials that he limit his gym invitations to young men rather than boys. His wife, Tzipporah, an attorney, who was present at the meeting, was said to have warned of a possible legal case if RJC took action against the rabbi based on illegal touching.
The synagogue board met for more than four hours on Monday night, debating next steps. While nothing was resolved regarding the fate of the rabbi, the board agreed to hire a public relations firm. For now there is an air of sadness, frustration and confusion among congregants, some of whom, including supporters, are hoping the rabbi will resign and spare them more public scrutiny. Others seem prepared to rally around the rabbi and hope the negative attention will soon blow over. And it appears the rabbi is not prepared to step down.
In response to a Jewish Week request this week for an interview, he sent a brief “official” statement through his “adviser,” Adam Friedman. It does not defend against or even mention the specific accusations against him, but rather frames the controversy as one over ideology.
Rabbi Rosenblatt wrote that as a rabbi he has served “with devotion, guided by high standards — religious and professional.
“My career in leadership has not been without ideological contentiousness,” he continued. “There is significant reason to believe that the attack on my reputation is being promoted by those whose real attack is on my beliefs and principles. The respected rabbi of an important congregation would, for some, represent a significant trophy in the predatory quest to discredit his ideas and, possibly, an opportunity to change the nature of the community he leads.”
But those close to the situation see the response as an attempt to divert attention away from the rabbi’s behavior with young men. And there is puzzlement over his reference to an “ideological” struggle, since Rabbi Rosenblatt is seen as a centrist within Modern Orthodoxy.
“Bottom line, he had a chance to avoid embarrassment for himself, his family and the shul,” said the person who knew of the settlement offer. “But he brought this on himself.”
Open Secret
For most of the rabbi’s more than three decades at RJC, his habit of inviting young men to play squash or racquetball, followed by a shower and sauna with them, was an open secret in the congregation.
“It was a joke among the teenage boys and young men,” one congregant recalled. “We’d ask each other, ‘did you go to the shvitz with the rabbi?’”
But times have changed, as have societal norms. There is more awareness of and less tolerance for behavior viewed as sexually predatory, even if it is not invasive — especially when initiated by figures of authority and spiritual leaders.
Rabbi Rosenblatt (no relation to this reporter) is the scion of a prominent family — his great-grandfather was famed cantor Yossele Rosenblatt and his grandfather, Samuel Rosenblatt, was the rabbi of a major Baltimore synagogue for more than 50 years. Even some congregants urging for his resignation now note that he is a man of many talents and attributes — a brilliant scholar of English literature as well as Judaic texts, with a gift for eloquent oratory, a strong voice for Modern Orthodoxy when many of his colleagues have moved to the right, and a caring and compassionate pastor, always there for families in times of need.
But even some of his biggest defenders say his lack of self-awareness, or arrogance, in denying the disturbing quality of his behavior, and his inability or unwillingness to curb it, contributed mightily to his current difficulties.
“He has this blind spot,” said one RJC member of several decades. “He thought he could get away with this behavior.”
Samuel Klagsbrun, a prominent local psychiatrist, described Rabbi Rosenblatt’s behavior as “a classic case of disassociation, where one separates the reality of his actions from his belief system.” It makes for a particularly strong divide when the person is a public figure with a reputation for good works, said Klagsbrun, who noted that he does not know Rabbi Rosenblatt.
“If he was warned and continued his actions — a rabbi risking being chastised — it’s obvious that his need for that connection with the young people was significant,” he added.
But Debbie Jonas, an RJC member and mother of Rabbi Davidi Jonas, who grew up in Riverdale, said her son was one of many young teenagers who went to the gym with the rabbi, and that “it was like any health club or locker room,” with people wrapped in towels. Jonas was one of several people that Rabbi Rosenblatt’s adviser, Adam Friedman, recommended The Jewish Week contact for comment. She said the rabbi “takes himself seriously as a mentor, and I give him tremendous credit for my Davidi’s spiritual development.” And she said that more than two dozen rabbis who served as rabbinic interns at RJC were sending letters to the shul in support of Rabbi Rosenblatt.
One member of the congregation for more than 20 years said that sitting through services at RJC this past Shabbat was a particularly painful experience.
“Nothing was said publicly” about the Times article, he said, noting that in Rabbi Rosenblatt’s absence, there was an expectation that the president or other official would address the problem from the pulpit. But that did not occur. (Rabbi Rosenblatt is nearing the end of a six-month sabbatical, spending much of his time in Boston and doing research at Harvard University.)
On Shabbat morning there was much private discussion among fellow worshippers, said the congregant, who like more than a dozen people interviewed for this article, requested anonymity because of personal connections to the synagogue.
The conversation ranged from labeling the Times story “character assassination” to hopes that the rabbi step down and spare the synagogue further shame, to talk of preparing for a difficult, and perhaps legal, battle over the rabbi’s future.
‘Unanswered Questions’
The publicity over Rabbi Rosenblatt comes at a difficult time for RJC, which has lost some of the energy, and membership, it once had and as it is looking to revitalize itself. It appears that older members of the synagogue, who have been the beneficiary for decades of Rabbi Rosenblatt’s soaring sermons, thoughtful teachings and compassionate pastoral care, are more inclined to have the rabbi stay on than younger members who have reacted most critically to the allegations, perhaps envisioning their sons being at risk of the rabbi’s outreach.
It should also be noted that over the years, some members left RJC for other synagogues. So those who stayed may have made their peace with the rabbi’s questionable behavior.
One young professional, an RJC member for less than two years, said he was shocked by the revelations in the Times article and was particularly upset at the synagogue’s lay leadership’s refusal to comment publicly on Shabbat.
“People are confused and upset,” he said. “There are so many unanswered questions.”
Chief among them, particularly for outsiders, is how could the congregation’s lay leaders have allowed the rabbi to remain in his position of authority decades after learning of his sauna sessions with boys and young men?
Several former leaders acknowledged that, as one said, “It’s easy to look back now” and recognize that mistakes were made in handling the situation. But he stressed that it was more complicated than it appears.
He and others interviewed noted that the rabbi performed his primary congregational responsibilities masterfully. The complaints came most directly from Sura Jeselsohn, a member whose zealous pursuit of this case led some to describe her as the rabbi’s Javert, a reference to the “Les Miserables” villain who devoted his life to tracking down a minor thief.
“In a bizarre way she helped the rabbi’s case” because she was seen as inordinately devoted to bringing him down, one member observed.
There were never reported allegations of sexual touching or criminal complaints, and there were practical concerns that any attempt to force the rabbi out could result in a painful legal suit.
Perhaps most significant is the serious confusion over the “gray area” of the rabbi’s actions — not illegal but widely considered inappropriate — that led feelings of loyalty toward him to trump taking more forceful action.
“People would say ‘I support the rabbi, but I wouldn’t let my son go to the shvitz with him,’” one congregant noted. “Isn’t that crazy?”
In a sense, the rabbi’s insistence that none of his behavior was problematic led to the congregation’s “gift” of allowing it to continue.
The rabbi’s critics tend to view the situation in a more direct way — that he had a problem, whether he acknowledged it or not, and that he had compromised his ability to serve his community.
Those who informed the rabbi that their sons were reluctant to accept his gym invitations were told that the problem was not his but their sons.’
Going Public
What changed the dynamic was that Yehuda Kurtzer, who heads the American branch of the Shalom Hartman Institute, went to The New York Times some months ago with his story. He recounted how as a Columbia University student at 19, he was “horrified and embarrassed” when the rabbi, unclothed, invited him into the sauna.
After Rabbi Rosenblatt was invited to speak to the students at the SAR Academy in Riverdale last fall, Kurtzer, whose young son attends the school, complained to the principal. He later wrote of his concerns about Rabbi Rosenblatt on a listserv of alumni of Wexner Foundation programs. That prompted a response from other participants with similar stories of their encounters with the rabbi going back a number of years, and the campaign took on renewed urgency.
[The Jewish Week has made reference to the rabbi’s unusual behavior several times over the last 15 years, without naming him. Most recently, in January 2013, this reporter’s column posed this question: “What, if anything, should be done about a synagogue rabbi who has a long history of inviting teenage boys and young men in their 20s to go to the gym with him, shower together, and share intimate talk in the sauna, making at least some of them feel deeply uncomfortable? No allegations have come to light about the rabbi crossing the line, but is this normal socializing or inappropriate behavior?”
The reason for not naming Rabbi Rosenblatt, or writing a full story, was that none of the young men who made allegations against him were willing to speak “on the record,” for attribution. Kurtzer is the first and only to do so.]
Lessons Learned?
Some stories about rabbinic impropriety are black and white, from physical and sexual abuse to spying on women in a state of undress. This one is not, and it is difficult to find the right words even to describe Rabbi Rosenblatt’s behavior with young men. The same invitation to play squash, shower and talk in the sauna resulted in some young men bonding with the rabbi and expressing gratitude for a mentoring relationship; others called it “predatory” and “outrageous.” The New York Times labeled it “unusual.”
Confusion abounds as well in the congregants’ range of responses. Some knew of his behavior for decades and ask now, “So what’s the big news?” Others are upset that board leaders took matters into their own hands, seeking to monitor the rabbi’s interactions with young men without informing the congregation at large.
Until our rabbinic organizations and synagogues cede power to outside experts to monitor the behavior of rabbis, the pattern will continue: peers will take precedence over possible victims. Surely we must recognize by now that rabbis, like everyone else, can have both inspiring and harmful traits. Those characteristics are not mutually exclusive; in fact, they make us human. So it’s possible that the same rabbi who shows great compassion and sensitivity to some can also present a threat to others.
It’s up to the leaders, members and rabbi of RJC to resolve this issue in a way that is dignified and fair. But it’s too late to do it quietly, under the radar. They had that chance decades ago, but no longer.
Jewish Week associate editor Jonathan Mark contributed reporting.
gary@jewishweek.org
Inset: Rabbi Jonathan I. Rosenblatt. Via rjconline.org.
As rabbis urge their flocks to do, they must themselves look inward as well, and seek help when they find themselves keeping secrets, writes Laura Gold, a rabbi and psychologist.OPINION
Rabbis Can Watch Out For Trouble By Looking Inward
Laura Gold
Special To The Jewish Week
Laura Gold
Recently, prominent Washington, D.C. Rabbi Barry Freundel received a 6 1/2-year prison sentence for spying on women immersing in the mikveh, the ritual bath. And just last week, The New York Times published an expose on Riverdale Rabbi Jonathan Rosenblatt’s longstanding habit of bringing teenage boys and young men whom he was mentoring to sit with him naked in a sauna.
With every new rabbinical scandal, after the initial shock and concern and denominational finger-pointing, people tend to breathe a sigh of relief and feel reassured that whatever flaws their rabbi may have, at least he or she isn’t an out-and-out sociopath. The rabbis who make headlines for abusive criminal behavior tell us more about the entwining of psychopathology with power than about the rabbinate, per se.
Still, we shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that all rabbis are vulnerable to the possibility of misusing their power. For this reason, all rabbis should be encouraged to consider the personal psychological pitfalls that may trip them up. One bad rabbinic apple may not treif up the whole bunch, but it can remind the other apples to look carefully at themselves, not for purposes of preening but for pruning.
As a clinical psychologist and rabbi consulting to clergy across the country, as well as teaching rabbinical students, I find that they often ask me whom to be wary of “out there”: In other words, which congregants pose the greatest danger to the rabbi by way of their excessive neediness or narcissism or other diagnostic warning signals. But rabbis occupy a position that requires turning their scrutiny inward as well. They are professionally remiss if they are not routinely asking themselves: Is there something about myself that I ought to be worried about?
I’d like to describe some of the instances when a rabbi’s situational factors and behaviors should raise red flags (for both rabbis and those who care about them). I’d also like to suggest steps that rabbis — indeed all clergy — might take before potential problems turn into harmful scenarios.
Congregational leadership can be tremendously rewarding, but it is also frequently stressful, and if a rabbi is under inordinate personal pressure, it leaves her more vulnerable to making mistakes in the area of boundaries. Is she contending with serious conflict with a significant other? Separation or divorce? Worrisome illness or the death of a loved one? Rabbis spend the bulk of their time taking care of others; if a congregant exhibits kindness and generosity of spirit when a rabbi is particularly needy, he is more likely to view the source as especially appealing. For the rabbi in distress who experiences the role reversal of receiving emotional support from a congregant, the line between tender gratitude and eroticized feelings can easily be blurred. The move from expressing appreciation to behaving sexually can suddenly feel like a small but powerfully compelling step.
And what kind of behavior should prompt a rabbi to ask himself whether he is drawing too close to a critical line? Perhaps he is breaking his own rules and standards when providing pastoral care; he may be meeting in an unusual setting (e.g., in a café or sauna instead of in his office, or at an unusual time of day or night). There may be a perfectly legitimate reason for him to be making exceptions for a particular congregant — but the rabbi should observe that he is making atypical decisions and ought to ask himself what latent meaning those atypical decisions may point to.
Perhaps most importantly, if a rabbi is keeping secrets with regard to the performance of her rabbinic duties, something is seriously amiss. When she hesitates about letting her administrative assistant know about an appointment that she’s made, or misleads her partner or spouse about where she has been, or, when reviewing with a colleague a pastoral counseling session, omits mention of the hug that ended the session, beware: rabbi is likely skating on thin ice.
I have no doubt that the majority of rabbis are routinely thoughtful about their choices and deeply committed to being of service to others. What, then, should a rabbi do when he is aware that his behavior is off-kilter? Such behaviors are not necessarily indications of imminent harm. But it is not enough merely to hold an internal conversation with oneself; we rabbis, like everyone else, fool ourselves and justify our problematic behavior too easily. Contemplating our actions in solitude is likely to entail at least as much skilled self-deception as honest self-reflection.
It is precisely because the challenging thoughts and feelings that arise in rabbinic work may be embarrassing or shameful or scary for the rabbi to discuss with another person that the rabbi should — indeed, must — discuss them with someone else. Speaking about them with another person makes the issues real, and only then can they be thoroughly addressed, assessed and, if necessary, redressed. That other person may well be a therapist but other people can also serve in the capacity of trusted conversational partner, such as a peer, a close friend or a senior mentoring colleague. For those rabbis who have a spouse or partner, that person may be a helpful sounding board, but there could be some issues (like being sexually attracted to a congregant) that the rabbi is better off discussing with someone else. Some rabbis join together (or with clergy of other faiths) for peer supervision or to meet with a clinical supervisor who can provide guidance through thorny situations.
Through intentional self-awareness and being in conversation with another person regarding areas of vulnerability, rabbis are more likely to maintain crucial professional boundaries. Such boundaries help rabbis protect themselves from inadvertently stepping into professional quicksand. But just as importantly, good boundaries provide rabbis with the essential capacity to protect their relationships with others, and it is through the power of relationships that rabbis have the greatest opportunity to inspire others and strengthen the role of Judaism in people’s lives.
Laura J. Gold is a clinical psychologist and rabbi. She is an adjunct assistant professor at the Jewish Theological Seminary and adjunct clinical associate at theCity College of New York.
Good Shabbos,
Helen Chernikoff
Web Director
THE ARTS
FILM
Of Cows And The Conflict
Two documentaries at the Human Rights Watch FilmFestival move through the minefields of Israel and the West Bank.
George Robinson
Special To The Jewish Week
A Palestinian classroom and an Israeli one at the center of “This Is My Land." Courtesy of Human Rights Watch Film Festival
In light of the seemingly intractable nature of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the grinding cynicism of leaders on all sides, it is almost too easy to give in to despair. Two new documentaries on the topic, debuting in this year’s Human Rights Watch Film Festival (which begins on June 11), will not lighten the burden of hopelessness. On the other hand, both the Palestinian-Canadian “The Wanted 18” and the Israeli “This Is My Land,” while offering no solutions and little cause for hope, are enlightening excursions through the minefields of the Middle East.
“The Wanted 18,” which will open theatrically on June 19, is an unconventional non-fiction film, blending interview footage, archival materials and animation to recount the utterly improbable story of the small town of Beit Sahour, a West Bank town that became the site of classic nonviolent civil resistance to Israeli policy during the first intifada. At the center of the town’s protests were 18 cows bought from a nearby kibbutz in an effort to dent the town’s dependence on Israeli goods by producing its own milk.
As Amer Shomali, a Palestinian artist with ties to Beit Sahour, and Canadian director Paul Cowan acknowledge from the outset of the film, the residents of the town were the most unlikely dairy farmers imaginable. Predominantly Christian and middle class, this collection of academics, professionals and university students barely knew which end of the cow to milk. But they managed to make the whole thing work on a small scale for a little while, even clandestinely distributing milk to the locals under cover of darkness. Added to a wide range of other nonviolent protests including significant tax resistance, the presence of the 18 cows became a thorn in the side of the Israeli military.
That thorn quickly festered into a public relations disaster, with Israeli soldiers searching the small town for the cows, now symbolic collaborators in the local political struggle. Shomali and Cowan milk this turn of events (pun intended, of course) for some wry humor, and even Shaltiel Levi, the former Israeli commander who is interviewed in the film, seems to appreciate the joke. But the inhabitants of Beit Sahour would eventually find themselves the victims of a very different nemesis, as the PLO opted for the false dawn of the Oslo Accords and shut down the intifada.
Shomali and Cowan tell this story fairly artfully, making excellent use of Shomali’s sketches, and drawing on a wealth of articulate witnesses from both sides of the conflict. Ironically, the weakest material in the film comes in the animated sequences involving the four cows upon whom the filmmakers chose to center much of the narrative. They strive to individualize the quartet with little success, and the results alternate between clumsy humor and bathos.
“This Is My Land,” directed, written and photographed by Tamara Erde, takes a more conventional approach to its subject, how Israeli and Palestinian children are taught the history of the conflict and its roots. This topic has been surprisingly neglected by filmmakers. One suspects that the sober, almost somber tone of Erde’s film may be indicative of why few others have ventured into this territory. Although she manages to make the subject compelling by focusing on the students, and even more so by focusing on the teachers, this is the kind of cinema of ideas that many viewers will find forbiddingly abstract.
Erde chose to film at a half-dozen schools that reflect a wide spectrum of political opinions — from a Talmud Torah for settlers in Itamar to a boy’s school in a refugee camp in Nablus; she interviewed teachers whose opinions cover an equally wide range. Loosely using the chronology of the school year, with particular attention to such flashpoints as Yom Ha’Atzmaut (Israel’s Independence Day) and the memorial day for the Nakba (Arabic for “The Catastrophe,” which is how the Palestinians refer to Independence Day), she walks viewers through classes in a half-dozen schools. Unfortunately, while her selection is admirable for its thoroughness, it’s too much information for an audience to absorb in a single viewing, and inclusiveness sometimes gives way to superficiality. On the other hand, an interlude spent at the site of the death camp at Belzec, including a stunningly frank discussion with an Israeli docent who speaks to student groups there, is one of the highlights of the film.
What emerges most clearly from “This Is My Land” is how little flexibility there is in the way this history is taught in Israel. Two experts on the respective Palestinian and Israeli textbooks and school systems offer a grim analysis of the ideological underpinnings of their own curricula, and the interviews with the children in the film do not give much cause for optimism. The tensions brought about by the conflict are all too present still, even in a supposed haven of coexistence like the Neve Shalom/Wahat al Salam village. When the teachers in that peace-oriented community speak of the death of optimism, one feels the burden of a future that promises little more than renewed bloodshed and intransigence.
The Human Rights Watch Film Festival will run June 11-21 at the Walter Reade Theater (165 W. 65th St.) and the IFC Center (323 Sixth Ave.). For schedule and other information go to ff.hrw.org. “The Wanted 18” opens on Friday, June 19 at the Cinema Village (22 E. 12th St.). For information,
MUSIC
Michele Lee remembers the great composer Cy Coleman.
THEATER
Larry David Alleges 'Showbiz' Anti-Semitism At Tonys
FILM
Yiddish Still Alive In Cinema
THEATER
Playing Another Larry David Misanthrope
Orthodox Davening, Gay Pride: Oliver Rosenberg, 29
A poster child for Modern Orthodoxy has founded a congregation for LGBTQ Jews and their allies.
When Oliver Rosenberg came out to his friends and family, he did so on a one-on-one basis. When he spoke about being gay for a communal cause, 800 people, mostly students he didn’t know, showed up to listen.
In 2008, Rosenberg was one of four members on a panel called, “Being Gay in the Orthodox World,” hosted by Yeshiva University, where Rosenberg went to school. The reaction was as split as Moses’ Red Sea. Faculty members were largely critical while students were supportive.
Inspired by the panel, a rabbi developed a statement of principles advocating for inclusion of LGBTQ people in the Orthodox community; over 300 Modern Orthodox rabbis from around the country signed the document. A nonprofit called Eshel, which provides inclusion education to Orthodox communities and resources to parents of LGBTQ Jews, also sprung from the event.
Growing up in Los Angeles, Rosenberg describes his younger self as “a poster child for Modern Orthodoxy.” Now, living on the Upper West Side, he is a leading member of the LGBTQ Jewish community as the founder of Or Chayim, a year-old congregation that holds monthly Orthodox-style Shabbat services and dinners for LGBTQ Jews and their allies.
“Shabbat dinner is a place for real conversation,” he said. “Orthodox or not, people know to keep their phones in their pockets.”
During the work week, however, Rosenberg’s phone is front and center. At the same time he started Or Chayim, Rosenberg launched Prealth, a healthcare tech start-up that is developing a medical cost comparison app. Rosenberg, a former investment banker, envisions the app as a sort of Uber for healthcare, allowing people to compare doctors based on cost, insurance information and patient reviews.
At night and on weekends, Rosenberg’s likely to be found spreading the word about Or Chayim.
The 2008 panel, he said, illuminated the sense of displacement many people felt when trying to reconcile their gay identity with their Judaism. Or Chayim was Rosenberg’s answer to that discord, cultivating a community that celebrates both identities equally. “People feel like I’ve given them a sense of belonging,” he said.
Kicking back: When Rosenberg isn’t spending his time launching congregations or tech start-ups, he can be found at Therapy — which is not a psychologist’s office, but a gay bar in Hells Kitchen.
Prealth.com
36 Under 36 Photo Wall
Maya Klausner
36 Under 36
There's Tikvah Juni, a self-advocate who pushes for the inclusion of those with disabilities.Inclusion
Public Face Of Inclusion Advocacy: Tikvah Juni, 32
When Tikvah Juni was 16, she received her first standing ovation.
“I remember all the people, cheering and smiling,” said Juni, who had been the guest speaker at an event hosted by Yachad: The National Jewish Council for Disabilities.
“That was the first time I really believed the world could change,” she said. Since then, she’s been trying to change the world one speech at a time.
Juni, who has Down syndrome, travels around the U.S. teaching audiences about inclusion. In Washington, D.C., she even lobbied state and federal legislators to increase resources for special needs students.
Though she begins each speech with a thought on the weekly Torah portion, she ends by detailing her experiences as someone with special needs.
“I hate the words ‘disability’ and ‘consumer,’ she said, two words commonly used to describe those with special needs. “People with special needs aren’t takers, and we aren’t incapable. We want to be accepted just as much as everyone else.”
Growing up in the 1980s when inclusion was rarely a topic of conversation, Juni often felt excluded.
“Schools kept closing their doors to me after they heard about my special needs,” said Juni, who grew up in the Orthodox community of Flatbush. Socializing was also difficult, and Juni spent much of her childhood reading books instead of romping with friends.
“People didn’t treat me so nicely. They judged me by the way I looked,” she said.
Even today, audiences are often surprised when she first walks up to the podium. “They’re expecting someone big and important, and here’s this small little girl,” Juni said. “But when I start speaking, they shift their focus. It’s not about my exterior — it’s about what I’m saying.”
When not on speaking tours, Juni works with special needs children. During the school year, she serves as a preschool teaching assistant; in the summer, you can find her at Camp HASC.
To reach an even broader audience, Juni completed a several-hundred page book about her experiences. Though not yet published, she’s hoping one day her story, and her message, can reach thousands.
Capturing color: In her downtime, Juni loves oil painting. She is particularly fond of landscapes. “An artist can see the world in a way no one else can,” she said. “It’s important to notice things other people don’t.”
http://Facebook.com/tikvah.juni, njcd.org
Back To The 36 Under 36 Photo Wall
Hannah Dreyfus
36 Under 36
And Elana Simon, a cancer survivor who's also, at 19 years old, a cancer researcher.Medicine
Cancer Survivor, Cancer Researcher: Elana Simon, 19
At age 12, Elana was diagnosed with a rare form of liver cancer. Four years later, as a high school sophomore, she re-confronted her disease — as a medical researcher.
“This cancer had almost taken my life. Even though little research [on liver cancer] had been done, that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible,” said Simon, who grew up on the Upper East Side.
Her father, Sandy, a biophysicist, made space in his lab at Rockefeller University, and Simon set about collecting tumor samples from patients and survivors. Through genome sequencing, she found that all the samples shared the same genetic mutation.
“It was weird, but it was awesome to see all the pieces come together,” she said.
In February 2014, Simon co-authored a study, published in Science magazine, about the mutation. The next month, she personally presented her work to PresidentBarack Obama at the White House Science Fair.
“It was definitely a proud moment,” she said.
Today, a freshman at Harvard University studying computer science and dramatic arts, Simon hopes to pursue a future in high-tech medical research. This summer, as an intern at Facebook Inc., she hopes to learn more about trends in computer technology.
Simon’s Jewish identity has remained a source of pride and strength throughout her journey. One of her fondest Jewish memories was attending Camp Simcha, the Jewish camp for young cancer survivors and patients.
“It was one of the most uplifting places I’ve ever been,” she said.
She also grew up attending synagogue, and her family remains active members of Temple Shaaray Tefila.
Most important, however, is the value placed on family.
“My parents raised me to believe in the importance of family — it’s engrained in my Jewish identity,” she said.
To this day, her two heroes remain her father and the surgeon who removed her tumor.
“Both of them taught me how to give selflessly,” she said. “I hope, in my lifetime, I can learn to do the same.”
Trapeze artist: Simon’s favorite pastime is as lofty as her career aspirations. Since she was child, she has attended performing arts camp. Today, she is an experienced trapeze artist, taking classes in Midtown whenever she’s back in NYC.
Elanasimon.com
Back To The 36 Under 36 Photo Wall
Hannah Dreyfus
36 Under 36
And we could go on, so head on over to our photo wall to meet more of these fabulous folks.
But the community also struggled with a now-familiar sense of distress this week, as news broke of another sexual scandal in the rabbinate. The rumors that have long afflicted the Riverdale Jewish Center, that longtime Rabbi Jonathan Rosenblatt had allegedly invited boys to a sauna, became public, as his congregants had long feared they would.NEW YORK
Riverdale’s ‘Open Secret’ Goes Public
Congregants divided on Rabbi Jonathan Rosenblatt’s invitations to young men to join him in sauna.
Gary Rosenblatt
Editor and Publisher
Three years ago several prominent members of the Riverdale Jewish Center (RJC), the 700-member Modern Orthodox congregation, met privately with their longtime rabbi, Jonathan Rosenblatt, and offered to arrange a generous buyout for him. They told him that the persistent rumors about his allegedly inappropriate behavior with boys and young men were bound to become public at some point and it would be in his and his family’s best interest, and for the congregation as well, if he accepted an offer to resign quietly.
If he didn’t, he was told, “this could all end badly,” according to a member of the congregation with knowledge of the meeting.
“It was not meant as a threat, but rather that it would hit the press eventually and no one would see things as he did,” the person explained this weekend.
“Unfortunately, he refused, and now it’s all out there,” the person said, referring to a thorough New York Times May 31 report on Rabbi Rosenblatt’s “unusual” behavior that included inviting young men to discuss personal matters while sitting naked in the sauna with him.
The rabbi insisted, in the meeting, that he had done nothing wrong and had complied with previous requests from shul officials that he limit his gym invitations to young men rather than boys. His wife, Tzipporah, an attorney, who was present at the meeting, was said to have warned of a possible legal case if RJC took action against the rabbi based on illegal touching.
The synagogue board met for more than four hours on Monday night, debating next steps. While nothing was resolved regarding the fate of the rabbi, the board agreed to hire a public relations firm. For now there is an air of sadness, frustration and confusion among congregants, some of whom, including supporters, are hoping the rabbi will resign and spare them more public scrutiny. Others seem prepared to rally around the rabbi and hope the negative attention will soon blow over. And it appears the rabbi is not prepared to step down.
In response to a Jewish Week request this week for an interview, he sent a brief “official” statement through his “adviser,” Adam Friedman. It does not defend against or even mention the specific accusations against him, but rather frames the controversy as one over ideology.
Rabbi Rosenblatt wrote that as a rabbi he has served “with devotion, guided by high standards — religious and professional.
“My career in leadership has not been without ideological contentiousness,” he continued. “There is significant reason to believe that the attack on my reputation is being promoted by those whose real attack is on my beliefs and principles. The respected rabbi of an important congregation would, for some, represent a significant trophy in the predatory quest to discredit his ideas and, possibly, an opportunity to change the nature of the community he leads.”
But those close to the situation see the response as an attempt to divert attention away from the rabbi’s behavior with young men. And there is puzzlement over his reference to an “ideological” struggle, since Rabbi Rosenblatt is seen as a centrist within Modern Orthodoxy.
“Bottom line, he had a chance to avoid embarrassment for himself, his family and the shul,” said the person who knew of the settlement offer. “But he brought this on himself.”
Open Secret
For most of the rabbi’s more than three decades at RJC, his habit of inviting young men to play squash or racquetball, followed by a shower and sauna with them, was an open secret in the congregation.
“It was a joke among the teenage boys and young men,” one congregant recalled. “We’d ask each other, ‘did you go to the shvitz with the rabbi?’”
But times have changed, as have societal norms. There is more awareness of and less tolerance for behavior viewed as sexually predatory, even if it is not invasive — especially when initiated by figures of authority and spiritual leaders.
Rabbi Rosenblatt (no relation to this reporter) is the scion of a prominent family — his great-grandfather was famed cantor Yossele Rosenblatt and his grandfather, Samuel Rosenblatt, was the rabbi of a major Baltimore synagogue for more than 50 years. Even some congregants urging for his resignation now note that he is a man of many talents and attributes — a brilliant scholar of English literature as well as Judaic texts, with a gift for eloquent oratory, a strong voice for Modern Orthodoxy when many of his colleagues have moved to the right, and a caring and compassionate pastor, always there for families in times of need.
But even some of his biggest defenders say his lack of self-awareness, or arrogance, in denying the disturbing quality of his behavior, and his inability or unwillingness to curb it, contributed mightily to his current difficulties.
“He has this blind spot,” said one RJC member of several decades. “He thought he could get away with this behavior.”
Samuel Klagsbrun, a prominent local psychiatrist, described Rabbi Rosenblatt’s behavior as “a classic case of disassociation, where one separates the reality of his actions from his belief system.” It makes for a particularly strong divide when the person is a public figure with a reputation for good works, said Klagsbrun, who noted that he does not know Rabbi Rosenblatt.
“If he was warned and continued his actions — a rabbi risking being chastised — it’s obvious that his need for that connection with the young people was significant,” he added.
But Debbie Jonas, an RJC member and mother of Rabbi Davidi Jonas, who grew up in Riverdale, said her son was one of many young teenagers who went to the gym with the rabbi, and that “it was like any health club or locker room,” with people wrapped in towels. Jonas was one of several people that Rabbi Rosenblatt’s adviser, Adam Friedman, recommended The Jewish Week contact for comment. She said the rabbi “takes himself seriously as a mentor, and I give him tremendous credit for my Davidi’s spiritual development.” And she said that more than two dozen rabbis who served as rabbinic interns at RJC were sending letters to the shul in support of Rabbi Rosenblatt.
One member of the congregation for more than 20 years said that sitting through services at RJC this past Shabbat was a particularly painful experience.
“Nothing was said publicly” about the Times article, he said, noting that in Rabbi Rosenblatt’s absence, there was an expectation that the president or other official would address the problem from the pulpit. But that did not occur. (Rabbi Rosenblatt is nearing the end of a six-month sabbatical, spending much of his time in Boston and doing research at Harvard University.)
On Shabbat morning there was much private discussion among fellow worshippers, said the congregant, who like more than a dozen people interviewed for this article, requested anonymity because of personal connections to the synagogue.
The conversation ranged from labeling the Times story “character assassination” to hopes that the rabbi step down and spare the synagogue further shame, to talk of preparing for a difficult, and perhaps legal, battle over the rabbi’s future.
‘Unanswered Questions’
The publicity over Rabbi Rosenblatt comes at a difficult time for RJC, which has lost some of the energy, and membership, it once had and as it is looking to revitalize itself. It appears that older members of the synagogue, who have been the beneficiary for decades of Rabbi Rosenblatt’s soaring sermons, thoughtful teachings and compassionate pastoral care, are more inclined to have the rabbi stay on than younger members who have reacted most critically to the allegations, perhaps envisioning their sons being at risk of the rabbi’s outreach.
It should also be noted that over the years, some members left RJC for other synagogues. So those who stayed may have made their peace with the rabbi’s questionable behavior.
One young professional, an RJC member for less than two years, said he was shocked by the revelations in the Times article and was particularly upset at the synagogue’s lay leadership’s refusal to comment publicly on Shabbat.
“People are confused and upset,” he said. “There are so many unanswered questions.”
Chief among them, particularly for outsiders, is how could the congregation’s lay leaders have allowed the rabbi to remain in his position of authority decades after learning of his sauna sessions with boys and young men?
Several former leaders acknowledged that, as one said, “It’s easy to look back now” and recognize that mistakes were made in handling the situation. But he stressed that it was more complicated than it appears.
He and others interviewed noted that the rabbi performed his primary congregational responsibilities masterfully. The complaints came most directly from Sura Jeselsohn, a member whose zealous pursuit of this case led some to describe her as the rabbi’s Javert, a reference to the “Les Miserables” villain who devoted his life to tracking down a minor thief.
“In a bizarre way she helped the rabbi’s case” because she was seen as inordinately devoted to bringing him down, one member observed.
There were never reported allegations of sexual touching or criminal complaints, and there were practical concerns that any attempt to force the rabbi out could result in a painful legal suit.
Perhaps most significant is the serious confusion over the “gray area” of the rabbi’s actions — not illegal but widely considered inappropriate — that led feelings of loyalty toward him to trump taking more forceful action.
“People would say ‘I support the rabbi, but I wouldn’t let my son go to the shvitz with him,’” one congregant noted. “Isn’t that crazy?”
In a sense, the rabbi’s insistence that none of his behavior was problematic led to the congregation’s “gift” of allowing it to continue.
The rabbi’s critics tend to view the situation in a more direct way — that he had a problem, whether he acknowledged it or not, and that he had compromised his ability to serve his community.
Those who informed the rabbi that their sons were reluctant to accept his gym invitations were told that the problem was not his but their sons.’
Going Public
What changed the dynamic was that Yehuda Kurtzer, who heads the American branch of the Shalom Hartman Institute, went to The New York Times some months ago with his story. He recounted how as a Columbia University student at 19, he was “horrified and embarrassed” when the rabbi, unclothed, invited him into the sauna.
After Rabbi Rosenblatt was invited to speak to the students at the SAR Academy in Riverdale last fall, Kurtzer, whose young son attends the school, complained to the principal. He later wrote of his concerns about Rabbi Rosenblatt on a listserv of alumni of Wexner Foundation programs. That prompted a response from other participants with similar stories of their encounters with the rabbi going back a number of years, and the campaign took on renewed urgency.
[The Jewish Week has made reference to the rabbi’s unusual behavior several times over the last 15 years, without naming him. Most recently, in January 2013, this reporter’s column posed this question: “What, if anything, should be done about a synagogue rabbi who has a long history of inviting teenage boys and young men in their 20s to go to the gym with him, shower together, and share intimate talk in the sauna, making at least some of them feel deeply uncomfortable? No allegations have come to light about the rabbi crossing the line, but is this normal socializing or inappropriate behavior?”
The reason for not naming Rabbi Rosenblatt, or writing a full story, was that none of the young men who made allegations against him were willing to speak “on the record,” for attribution. Kurtzer is the first and only to do so.]
Lessons Learned?
Some stories about rabbinic impropriety are black and white, from physical and sexual abuse to spying on women in a state of undress. This one is not, and it is difficult to find the right words even to describe Rabbi Rosenblatt’s behavior with young men. The same invitation to play squash, shower and talk in the sauna resulted in some young men bonding with the rabbi and expressing gratitude for a mentoring relationship; others called it “predatory” and “outrageous.” The New York Times labeled it “unusual.”
Confusion abounds as well in the congregants’ range of responses. Some knew of his behavior for decades and ask now, “So what’s the big news?” Others are upset that board leaders took matters into their own hands, seeking to monitor the rabbi’s interactions with young men without informing the congregation at large.
Until our rabbinic organizations and synagogues cede power to outside experts to monitor the behavior of rabbis, the pattern will continue: peers will take precedence over possible victims. Surely we must recognize by now that rabbis, like everyone else, can have both inspiring and harmful traits. Those characteristics are not mutually exclusive; in fact, they make us human. So it’s possible that the same rabbi who shows great compassion and sensitivity to some can also present a threat to others.
It’s up to the leaders, members and rabbi of RJC to resolve this issue in a way that is dignified and fair. But it’s too late to do it quietly, under the radar. They had that chance decades ago, but no longer.
Jewish Week associate editor Jonathan Mark contributed reporting.
gary@jewishweek.org
Inset: Rabbi Jonathan I. Rosenblatt. Via rjconline.org.
As rabbis urge their flocks to do, they must themselves look inward as well, and seek help when they find themselves keeping secrets, writes Laura Gold, a rabbi and psychologist.OPINION
Rabbis Can Watch Out For Trouble By Looking Inward
Laura Gold
Special To The Jewish Week
Laura Gold
Recently, prominent Washington, D.C. Rabbi Barry Freundel received a 6 1/2-year prison sentence for spying on women immersing in the mikveh, the ritual bath. And just last week, The New York Times published an expose on Riverdale Rabbi Jonathan Rosenblatt’s longstanding habit of bringing teenage boys and young men whom he was mentoring to sit with him naked in a sauna.
With every new rabbinical scandal, after the initial shock and concern and denominational finger-pointing, people tend to breathe a sigh of relief and feel reassured that whatever flaws their rabbi may have, at least he or she isn’t an out-and-out sociopath. The rabbis who make headlines for abusive criminal behavior tell us more about the entwining of psychopathology with power than about the rabbinate, per se.
Still, we shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that all rabbis are vulnerable to the possibility of misusing their power. For this reason, all rabbis should be encouraged to consider the personal psychological pitfalls that may trip them up. One bad rabbinic apple may not treif up the whole bunch, but it can remind the other apples to look carefully at themselves, not for purposes of preening but for pruning.
As a clinical psychologist and rabbi consulting to clergy across the country, as well as teaching rabbinical students, I find that they often ask me whom to be wary of “out there”: In other words, which congregants pose the greatest danger to the rabbi by way of their excessive neediness or narcissism or other diagnostic warning signals. But rabbis occupy a position that requires turning their scrutiny inward as well. They are professionally remiss if they are not routinely asking themselves: Is there something about myself that I ought to be worried about?
I’d like to describe some of the instances when a rabbi’s situational factors and behaviors should raise red flags (for both rabbis and those who care about them). I’d also like to suggest steps that rabbis — indeed all clergy — might take before potential problems turn into harmful scenarios.
Congregational leadership can be tremendously rewarding, but it is also frequently stressful, and if a rabbi is under inordinate personal pressure, it leaves her more vulnerable to making mistakes in the area of boundaries. Is she contending with serious conflict with a significant other? Separation or divorce? Worrisome illness or the death of a loved one? Rabbis spend the bulk of their time taking care of others; if a congregant exhibits kindness and generosity of spirit when a rabbi is particularly needy, he is more likely to view the source as especially appealing. For the rabbi in distress who experiences the role reversal of receiving emotional support from a congregant, the line between tender gratitude and eroticized feelings can easily be blurred. The move from expressing appreciation to behaving sexually can suddenly feel like a small but powerfully compelling step.
And what kind of behavior should prompt a rabbi to ask himself whether he is drawing too close to a critical line? Perhaps he is breaking his own rules and standards when providing pastoral care; he may be meeting in an unusual setting (e.g., in a café or sauna instead of in his office, or at an unusual time of day or night). There may be a perfectly legitimate reason for him to be making exceptions for a particular congregant — but the rabbi should observe that he is making atypical decisions and ought to ask himself what latent meaning those atypical decisions may point to.
Perhaps most importantly, if a rabbi is keeping secrets with regard to the performance of her rabbinic duties, something is seriously amiss. When she hesitates about letting her administrative assistant know about an appointment that she’s made, or misleads her partner or spouse about where she has been, or, when reviewing with a colleague a pastoral counseling session, omits mention of the hug that ended the session, beware: rabbi is likely skating on thin ice.
I have no doubt that the majority of rabbis are routinely thoughtful about their choices and deeply committed to being of service to others. What, then, should a rabbi do when he is aware that his behavior is off-kilter? Such behaviors are not necessarily indications of imminent harm. But it is not enough merely to hold an internal conversation with oneself; we rabbis, like everyone else, fool ourselves and justify our problematic behavior too easily. Contemplating our actions in solitude is likely to entail at least as much skilled self-deception as honest self-reflection.
It is precisely because the challenging thoughts and feelings that arise in rabbinic work may be embarrassing or shameful or scary for the rabbi to discuss with another person that the rabbi should — indeed, must — discuss them with someone else. Speaking about them with another person makes the issues real, and only then can they be thoroughly addressed, assessed and, if necessary, redressed. That other person may well be a therapist but other people can also serve in the capacity of trusted conversational partner, such as a peer, a close friend or a senior mentoring colleague. For those rabbis who have a spouse or partner, that person may be a helpful sounding board, but there could be some issues (like being sexually attracted to a congregant) that the rabbi is better off discussing with someone else. Some rabbis join together (or with clergy of other faiths) for peer supervision or to meet with a clinical supervisor who can provide guidance through thorny situations.
Through intentional self-awareness and being in conversation with another person regarding areas of vulnerability, rabbis are more likely to maintain crucial professional boundaries. Such boundaries help rabbis protect themselves from inadvertently stepping into professional quicksand. But just as importantly, good boundaries provide rabbis with the essential capacity to protect their relationships with others, and it is through the power of relationships that rabbis have the greatest opportunity to inspire others and strengthen the role of Judaism in people’s lives.
Laura J. Gold is a clinical psychologist and rabbi. She is an adjunct assistant professor at the Jewish Theological Seminary and adjunct clinical associate at theCity College of New York.
Good Shabbos,
Helen Chernikoff
Web Director
THE ARTS
FILMOf Cows And The Conflict
Two documentaries at the Human Rights Watch FilmFestival move through the minefields of Israel and the West Bank.
George Robinson
Special To The Jewish Week
A Palestinian classroom and an Israeli one at the center of “This Is My Land." Courtesy of Human Rights Watch Film Festival
In light of the seemingly intractable nature of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the grinding cynicism of leaders on all sides, it is almost too easy to give in to despair. Two new documentaries on the topic, debuting in this year’s Human Rights Watch Film Festival (which begins on June 11), will not lighten the burden of hopelessness. On the other hand, both the Palestinian-Canadian “The Wanted 18” and the Israeli “This Is My Land,” while offering no solutions and little cause for hope, are enlightening excursions through the minefields of the Middle East.
“The Wanted 18,” which will open theatrically on June 19, is an unconventional non-fiction film, blending interview footage, archival materials and animation to recount the utterly improbable story of the small town of Beit Sahour, a West Bank town that became the site of classic nonviolent civil resistance to Israeli policy during the first intifada. At the center of the town’s protests were 18 cows bought from a nearby kibbutz in an effort to dent the town’s dependence on Israeli goods by producing its own milk.
As Amer Shomali, a Palestinian artist with ties to Beit Sahour, and Canadian director Paul Cowan acknowledge from the outset of the film, the residents of the town were the most unlikely dairy farmers imaginable. Predominantly Christian and middle class, this collection of academics, professionals and university students barely knew which end of the cow to milk. But they managed to make the whole thing work on a small scale for a little while, even clandestinely distributing milk to the locals under cover of darkness. Added to a wide range of other nonviolent protests including significant tax resistance, the presence of the 18 cows became a thorn in the side of the Israeli military.
That thorn quickly festered into a public relations disaster, with Israeli soldiers searching the small town for the cows, now symbolic collaborators in the local political struggle. Shomali and Cowan milk this turn of events (pun intended, of course) for some wry humor, and even Shaltiel Levi, the former Israeli commander who is interviewed in the film, seems to appreciate the joke. But the inhabitants of Beit Sahour would eventually find themselves the victims of a very different nemesis, as the PLO opted for the false dawn of the Oslo Accords and shut down the intifada.
Shomali and Cowan tell this story fairly artfully, making excellent use of Shomali’s sketches, and drawing on a wealth of articulate witnesses from both sides of the conflict. Ironically, the weakest material in the film comes in the animated sequences involving the four cows upon whom the filmmakers chose to center much of the narrative. They strive to individualize the quartet with little success, and the results alternate between clumsy humor and bathos.
“This Is My Land,” directed, written and photographed by Tamara Erde, takes a more conventional approach to its subject, how Israeli and Palestinian children are taught the history of the conflict and its roots. This topic has been surprisingly neglected by filmmakers. One suspects that the sober, almost somber tone of Erde’s film may be indicative of why few others have ventured into this territory. Although she manages to make the subject compelling by focusing on the students, and even more so by focusing on the teachers, this is the kind of cinema of ideas that many viewers will find forbiddingly abstract.
Erde chose to film at a half-dozen schools that reflect a wide spectrum of political opinions — from a Talmud Torah for settlers in Itamar to a boy’s school in a refugee camp in Nablus; she interviewed teachers whose opinions cover an equally wide range. Loosely using the chronology of the school year, with particular attention to such flashpoints as Yom Ha’Atzmaut (Israel’s Independence Day) and the memorial day for the Nakba (Arabic for “The Catastrophe,” which is how the Palestinians refer to Independence Day), she walks viewers through classes in a half-dozen schools. Unfortunately, while her selection is admirable for its thoroughness, it’s too much information for an audience to absorb in a single viewing, and inclusiveness sometimes gives way to superficiality. On the other hand, an interlude spent at the site of the death camp at Belzec, including a stunningly frank discussion with an Israeli docent who speaks to student groups there, is one of the highlights of the film.
What emerges most clearly from “This Is My Land” is how little flexibility there is in the way this history is taught in Israel. Two experts on the respective Palestinian and Israeli textbooks and school systems offer a grim analysis of the ideological underpinnings of their own curricula, and the interviews with the children in the film do not give much cause for optimism. The tensions brought about by the conflict are all too present still, even in a supposed haven of coexistence like the Neve Shalom/Wahat al Salam village. When the teachers in that peace-oriented community speak of the death of optimism, one feels the burden of a future that promises little more than renewed bloodshed and intransigence.
The Human Rights Watch Film Festival will run June 11-21 at the Walter Reade Theater (165 W. 65th St.) and the IFC Center (323 Sixth Ave.). For schedule and other information go to ff.hrw.org. “The Wanted 18” opens on Friday, June 19 at the Cinema Village (22 E. 12th St.). For information,
MUSIC
Michele Lee remembers the great composer Cy Coleman.
THEATER
Larry David Alleges 'Showbiz' Anti-Semitism At Tonys
FILM
Yiddish Still Alive In Cinema
THEATER
Playing Another Larry David Misanthrope
FOOD &WINE
Tequila 101
The mezcal gets its name from the town that first made it: Tequila.
Joshua E. London And Lou Marmon
Jewish Week Online Columnists
Tequila is a type of mezcal made from a fermented mash of the pinas, or hearts, of the Agave Azul Tequilana Weber species of the agave plant. Unlike other mescals, tequila can only be made from azul (Spanish for “blue”) agave harvested in designated regions in the Mexican state of Jalisco and limited regions in the states of Guanajuato, Michoacan, Nayarit, and Tamaulipas; in Jalisco, production is centered in a few communities near Guadalajara — the most famous of which is the town Tequila.
Tequila comes in various styles, the distinctions between which have to do with aging: Blanco (white) or Plata (silver) is unaged white spirit; Joven (young) or Oro (gold) is silver/white tequila adulterated with flavorings or colorants. Some tequilas are aged; the "Respado," for example, are rested at least two months but less than a year in oak barrels while the Añejo have been aged between one and three years in oak.
Outside of Mexico, most kashrus authorities presume Oro is problematic and require certification. As Mexicanregulations are neither very strict nor reliably enforced where beverage adulteration is concerned, however, a growing number of kashrus agencies require all tequilas to be certified kosher, except for blanco tequila. These are uniformly considered kosher without certification. All tequila requires appropriate kosher certification to be reliably used during Passover.
One of our favorite blanco tequilas, and there are many we like, is the relatively expensive Arette Artesanal Suave Blanco Tequila ($50; 40 percent ABV): made in small batches from only the heart of the spirit run, this sophisticated tequila offers robust, bright aromas of floral agave, white pepper, herbs and fresh citrus peel, and an elegant, complex, and zesty palate of pure agave with a kick of peppercorn, lemon, honey and a touch of black licorice, and a long, lovely finish. Delicioso! L’Chaim!
Read More
TRAVEL
Come Summer, Head For Winter
Hilary J. Danailova
Travel WriterSummer is vacation season — yet it can also be the most frustrating time to travel. Crowds are thick, prices skyrocket, hotels sell out and temperatures soar to uncomfortable heights. But given the reality of school schedules and the urge to get out of town, summer travel is inevitable.
If you’re dying to get out of town but can’t stand the crowds, the heat or the prices, what are your options? Here are a few suggestions — from the practical to the perverse — for summer vacations that go against the grain.
For those who hate the heat:
Head for winter! On their worst year, the Southern Hemisphere experiences a much milder winter than anything we’ve seen in New York lately. If your idea of a good time is incompatible with sunscreen and sweat, consider cities like Quito, Ecuador — a fresh, pleasant 68 degrees year-round, due to its Andean altitude — or Lima, Peru, where the perpetual mist and leaden skies do little to dampen a vibrant nightlife. Added bonuses: The flights aren’t cheap, but the countries themselves are, and jet lag is minimal compared to Europe or Asia. And both have small but historic Jewish communities that welcome visitors.
Northern Europe is also a safe bet for the heat-averse. Few have suffered heatstroke on the moody heaths of Scotland, where a nice midsummer day calls for a sweater and perhaps a trench as well. Since most Brits head to the Mediterranean, you have their castles and pubs to yourself, which is also rather nice.
You may notice that these places aren’t very sunny. If you insist on sun but don’t want heat, there’s always San Francisco. Remember Mark Twain’s legendary claim that the coldest winter he ever saw “was the summer I spent in San Francisco.”
For those on a budget:
The U.S. dollar is strong, so put it to work in places with favorable exchange rates.
I just got back from the Balkans, where I felt rich. Really rich. This region has always been cheap by European standards, but the weak euro — and local currencies pegged to the euro — combined with lingering recession have made Bulgaria, Albania, Macedonia and much of Greece incredibly cheap for Americans.
Depending on your location, you can stay in a really nice hotel by the sea or in the mountains for anywhere between $30 and $100; hike some of Europe’s best mountains, free of crowds; dine on fresh salads, fish and local wine for $5-$10 per person; and spend in a week what you’d spend in a day in Tuscany, all during peak summer weather.
Of course, with the weak euro, even Tuscany is cheaper than at any time since the early 2000s. The best European deals, however, may be up north in Scandinavia. Norway and Sweden aren’t exactly budget destinations, but for those who’ve been dreaming of the land of Ikea and lox, their relatively weak currencies — coupled withdiscounted flights and hotel rates — have finally made them accessible to many. (Scandinavia is also ideal for heat- and crowd-avoiders, and summer is the ideal time to visit.)
How about the tried-and-true winter spots? Costa Rica and Belize, hot destinations for winter getaways, slash rates for summer vacationers — but temperatures are only a few degrees higher in June than in January. This region is hot and humid in summer, but no more so than Manhattan is, plus the sea breezes (and the pool, and cold drinks) keep things pleasant. Odds of a hurricane are still pretty low on any given week.
Florida is another obvious yet overlooked summer destination, as are the resorts of Mexico’s Yucatan peninsula. Costa Rica, Florida and the Yucatan are all thick with Jewish communities or kosher rentals; you may have to book a year in advance for your family in wintertime, but July is a far easier bet for that tropical escape.
For those who abhor crowds:
If cities beckon — and you don’t mind a little heat — summer can be an ideal time to explore vacant museums, or waltz into popular restaurants at 7:30 and sit right down.
The emptiest place I have ever been to was Madrid on an August weekend. Absolutely everybody with any ability to flee the city does so, leaving 100-degree days to those willing to make the tradeoff for pleasantly uncrowded museums, tranquil plazas, and an unbeatable negotiating position with the city’s hotels. French cities are a closesecond: everyone heads for the coasts. The caveat is that Paris can get pretty hot, and Madrid positively bakes.
Closer to home, Friday afternoon is an ideal time to head into a town while everyone else is in traffic en route to the shore. In Philadelphia, you can snag an outdoor café right on Rittenhouse Square, then have the park all to yourself on summer weekends. Boston’s Public Garden and riverside parks are at their summery best in July, while the college crowd’s away and locals are all on the Cape.
And California doesn’t really have seasons — so crowds aren’t noticeably thicker in summertime, and there’s always plenty of sand to go around. But by July, the Pacific is finally warm enough for swimming at the spectacular beaches of Southern California: Santa Barbara, Malibu, Venice, Laguna Beach and La Jolla.editor@jewishweek.org
Tequila 101
The mezcal gets its name from the town that first made it: Tequila.
Joshua E. London And Lou Marmon
Jewish Week Online Columnists
Tequila is a type of mezcal made from a fermented mash of the pinas, or hearts, of the Agave Azul Tequilana Weber species of the agave plant. Unlike other mescals, tequila can only be made from azul (Spanish for “blue”) agave harvested in designated regions in the Mexican state of Jalisco and limited regions in the states of Guanajuato, Michoacan, Nayarit, and Tamaulipas; in Jalisco, production is centered in a few communities near Guadalajara — the most famous of which is the town Tequila.
Tequila comes in various styles, the distinctions between which have to do with aging: Blanco (white) or Plata (silver) is unaged white spirit; Joven (young) or Oro (gold) is silver/white tequila adulterated with flavorings or colorants. Some tequilas are aged; the "Respado," for example, are rested at least two months but less than a year in oak barrels while the Añejo have been aged between one and three years in oak.
Outside of Mexico, most kashrus authorities presume Oro is problematic and require certification. As Mexicanregulations are neither very strict nor reliably enforced where beverage adulteration is concerned, however, a growing number of kashrus agencies require all tequilas to be certified kosher, except for blanco tequila. These are uniformly considered kosher without certification. All tequila requires appropriate kosher certification to be reliably used during Passover.
One of our favorite blanco tequilas, and there are many we like, is the relatively expensive Arette Artesanal Suave Blanco Tequila ($50; 40 percent ABV): made in small batches from only the heart of the spirit run, this sophisticated tequila offers robust, bright aromas of floral agave, white pepper, herbs and fresh citrus peel, and an elegant, complex, and zesty palate of pure agave with a kick of peppercorn, lemon, honey and a touch of black licorice, and a long, lovely finish. Delicioso! L’Chaim!
Read More
Laguna Beach. Hilary Danailova/JW
Come Summer, Head For Winter
Hilary J. Danailova
Travel WriterSummer is vacation season — yet it can also be the most frustrating time to travel. Crowds are thick, prices skyrocket, hotels sell out and temperatures soar to uncomfortable heights. But given the reality of school schedules and the urge to get out of town, summer travel is inevitable.
If you’re dying to get out of town but can’t stand the crowds, the heat or the prices, what are your options? Here are a few suggestions — from the practical to the perverse — for summer vacations that go against the grain.
For those who hate the heat:
Head for winter! On their worst year, the Southern Hemisphere experiences a much milder winter than anything we’ve seen in New York lately. If your idea of a good time is incompatible with sunscreen and sweat, consider cities like Quito, Ecuador — a fresh, pleasant 68 degrees year-round, due to its Andean altitude — or Lima, Peru, where the perpetual mist and leaden skies do little to dampen a vibrant nightlife. Added bonuses: The flights aren’t cheap, but the countries themselves are, and jet lag is minimal compared to Europe or Asia. And both have small but historic Jewish communities that welcome visitors.
Northern Europe is also a safe bet for the heat-averse. Few have suffered heatstroke on the moody heaths of Scotland, where a nice midsummer day calls for a sweater and perhaps a trench as well. Since most Brits head to the Mediterranean, you have their castles and pubs to yourself, which is also rather nice.
You may notice that these places aren’t very sunny. If you insist on sun but don’t want heat, there’s always San Francisco. Remember Mark Twain’s legendary claim that the coldest winter he ever saw “was the summer I spent in San Francisco.”
For those on a budget:
The U.S. dollar is strong, so put it to work in places with favorable exchange rates.
I just got back from the Balkans, where I felt rich. Really rich. This region has always been cheap by European standards, but the weak euro — and local currencies pegged to the euro — combined with lingering recession have made Bulgaria, Albania, Macedonia and much of Greece incredibly cheap for Americans.
Depending on your location, you can stay in a really nice hotel by the sea or in the mountains for anywhere between $30 and $100; hike some of Europe’s best mountains, free of crowds; dine on fresh salads, fish and local wine for $5-$10 per person; and spend in a week what you’d spend in a day in Tuscany, all during peak summer weather.
Of course, with the weak euro, even Tuscany is cheaper than at any time since the early 2000s. The best European deals, however, may be up north in Scandinavia. Norway and Sweden aren’t exactly budget destinations, but for those who’ve been dreaming of the land of Ikea and lox, their relatively weak currencies — coupled withdiscounted flights and hotel rates — have finally made them accessible to many. (Scandinavia is also ideal for heat- and crowd-avoiders, and summer is the ideal time to visit.)
How about the tried-and-true winter spots? Costa Rica and Belize, hot destinations for winter getaways, slash rates for summer vacationers — but temperatures are only a few degrees higher in June than in January. This region is hot and humid in summer, but no more so than Manhattan is, plus the sea breezes (and the pool, and cold drinks) keep things pleasant. Odds of a hurricane are still pretty low on any given week.
Florida is another obvious yet overlooked summer destination, as are the resorts of Mexico’s Yucatan peninsula. Costa Rica, Florida and the Yucatan are all thick with Jewish communities or kosher rentals; you may have to book a year in advance for your family in wintertime, but July is a far easier bet for that tropical escape.
For those who abhor crowds:
If cities beckon — and you don’t mind a little heat — summer can be an ideal time to explore vacant museums, or waltz into popular restaurants at 7:30 and sit right down.
The emptiest place I have ever been to was Madrid on an August weekend. Absolutely everybody with any ability to flee the city does so, leaving 100-degree days to those willing to make the tradeoff for pleasantly uncrowded museums, tranquil plazas, and an unbeatable negotiating position with the city’s hotels. French cities are a closesecond: everyone heads for the coasts. The caveat is that Paris can get pretty hot, and Madrid positively bakes.
Closer to home, Friday afternoon is an ideal time to head into a town while everyone else is in traffic en route to the shore. In Philadelphia, you can snag an outdoor café right on Rittenhouse Square, then have the park all to yourself on summer weekends. Boston’s Public Garden and riverside parks are at their summery best in July, while the college crowd’s away and locals are all on the Cape.
And California doesn’t really have seasons — so crowds aren’t noticeably thicker in summertime, and there’s always plenty of sand to go around. But by July, the Pacific is finally warm enough for swimming at the spectacular beaches of Southern California: Santa Barbara, Malibu, Venice, Laguna Beach and La Jolla.editor@jewishweek.org
LENS
Ancient Libyan Synagogue In Ruins
Steve Lipman
Staff Writer
In its glory days, in the early years on the 20th century, the Dar Bishi synagogue in Tripoli, in the capital’s Old City a few blocks from the Mediterranean, was the pride of Libyan Jewry; it was considered the most beautiful Jewish house of worship in the country.
Today it is deserted and crumbling. Litter fills the empty sanctuary, pigeons fly around, the walls are cracked and the Ten Commandments tablets atop the outside are pockmarked. The mikvah next door houses squatter Libyan families.
Libya had a Jewish presence for more than 2,000 years; after World War II, more than 40,000 Jews lived there. But, as in other Arab countries in the Middle East and northern Africa, hostility towards Jews grew when Israel was created in 1948; widespread emigration ensued. By 1967, only 6,000 Jews remained in Libya, most of them in Tripoli; after Israel’s victory in the Six-Day War, conditions deteriorated for Libyan Jews; more left. The last known Jew there left in 2003.
Over the years, most of the synagogues around the country were demolished, turned into mosques or put to different uses.
In 2011, David Gerbi, a Libyan Jew whose family had emigrated 44 years earlier, returned during the Arab Spring uprising that toppled Muammar Kaddafy, to startrenovating Dar Bishi, with permission of the new government. He recruited a team of helpers from the neighborhood to cart out garbage; then he was warned to stay away, for his own safety. The repairs ended.
Today, the synagogue bears silent testimony to a once-flourishing Jewish community.
steve@jewishweek.org
Read More
MATCHMAKER
How Noa Met Yair
The Jewish Week
Ancient Libyan Synagogue In Ruins
Steve Lipman
Staff Writer
In its glory days, in the early years on the 20th century, the Dar Bishi synagogue in Tripoli, in the capital’s Old City a few blocks from the Mediterranean, was the pride of Libyan Jewry; it was considered the most beautiful Jewish house of worship in the country.
Today it is deserted and crumbling. Litter fills the empty sanctuary, pigeons fly around, the walls are cracked and the Ten Commandments tablets atop the outside are pockmarked. The mikvah next door houses squatter Libyan families.
Libya had a Jewish presence for more than 2,000 years; after World War II, more than 40,000 Jews lived there. But, as in other Arab countries in the Middle East and northern Africa, hostility towards Jews grew when Israel was created in 1948; widespread emigration ensued. By 1967, only 6,000 Jews remained in Libya, most of them in Tripoli; after Israel’s victory in the Six-Day War, conditions deteriorated for Libyan Jews; more left. The last known Jew there left in 2003.
Over the years, most of the synagogues around the country were demolished, turned into mosques or put to different uses.
In 2011, David Gerbi, a Libyan Jew whose family had emigrated 44 years earlier, returned during the Arab Spring uprising that toppled Muammar Kaddafy, to startrenovating Dar Bishi, with permission of the new government. He recruited a team of helpers from the neighborhood to cart out garbage; then he was warned to stay away, for his own safety. The repairs ended.
Today, the synagogue bears silent testimony to a once-flourishing Jewish community.
steve@jewishweek.org
Read More
MATCHMAKER
How Noa Met Yair
Leah Hakimian
Jewish Week Online Columnist
Their story has a bitter beginning. Noa Ofir and Yair Zribi met at a house of mourning. They were both grieving the death of their mutual friend, Oded Ben Sira.
Sergeant First Class Ben Sira was killed by sniper fire in the Gaza Strip on July 21, 2014, during Israel’s military operation, Protective Edge (Tzuk Eitan). He had completed his compulsory army service but opted to remain in Gaza to fight with his unit. Oded was laid to rest in the cemetery at the religious moshav (settlement) where had lived, Nir Ezion, in northern Israel.
Yair and Oded both grew up in Nir Ezion and were friends from childhood. Yair was traveling in Slovenia when he heard of Oded’s tragic death but was determined to make it home in time for the funeral.
Oded’s shiva brought together family and friends from all over Israel. Nir Etzion is about 18 kilometers south of Haifa, and the religious young people from the two communities were very close. “Oded was my friend,” says Noa, who grew up in Haifa.
Noa, then 22, and Yair, 23, knew many of the same people but did not know one another. “We were both at the shiva almost the whole time,” recalls Yair, “and that’s when we first noticed each other.”
A day after the shiva, Yair sent Noa a text message and invited her for a milkshake. They continued to text throughout the day, and by the time they went out that night for their first date, there was already a strong connection. “In fact, we even talked about wedding songs,” smiles Noa. They both liked the Hebrew song by Amir Benayun, “I have a dream,” beginning with the words, “You understand me in the most difficult moments.”
Noa knows when something feels right. After graduating high school, she signed up for Sherut Leumi, the national service option for religious girls, and worked in a hospital to help children with cancer. “After my first day, I decided I wanted to be a nurse,” says Noa. Today Noa is a second-year student at The School of Nursing at Sheba Medical Center.
Until the summer of 2014, neither Noa nor Yair had dated much. “But after our first date, we were pretty much inseparable,” says Yair. That is, when they are both in the same city at the same time. Yair is a first-year student in Chinese Business at the University of Haifa. Noa’s school is about 50 miles (80 kilometers) away.
“Yair likes to talk and I enjoy listening,” says Noa. “And we both enjoy music and going on hikes.” About four months after they met, Yair proposed to Noa. “I don’t get surprised easily,” explains Noa. “But Yair caught me off guard. He’s an amazing organizer.”
At their marriage ceremony, Noa and Yair remembered the past and looked forward to the future. The father of their dear friend, Oded, recited two of the blessings under the chuppa. Afterwards, the guests danced to the song of Amir Benayun, which ends: “I have hope, that with the help of faith, we will be able to fulfill our dream.”
Noa and Yair were married in the town of Kiryat Ata on March 9, 2015. Mazal tov.
Dr. Leah Hakimian currently researches the question: How Jewish couples meet and marry. In the 90’s she founded two nonprofit Jewish matchmaking programs, and continues to champion the role of community in helping singles meet. She resides in Jerusalem and Great Neck, New York.
Read More Their story has a bitter beginning. Noa Ofir and Yair Zribi met at a house of mourning. They were both grieving the death of their mutual friend, Oded Ben Sira.
Sergeant First Class Ben Sira was killed by sniper fire in the Gaza Strip on July 21, 2014, during Israel’s military operation, Protective Edge (Tzuk Eitan). He had completed his compulsory army service but opted to remain in Gaza to fight with his unit. Oded was laid to rest in the cemetery at the religious moshav (settlement) where had lived, Nir Ezion, in northern Israel.
Yair and Oded both grew up in Nir Ezion and were friends from childhood. Yair was traveling in Slovenia when he heard of Oded’s tragic death but was determined to make it home in time for the funeral.
Oded’s shiva brought together family and friends from all over Israel. Nir Etzion is about 18 kilometers south of Haifa, and the religious young people from the two communities were very close. “Oded was my friend,” says Noa, who grew up in Haifa.
Noa, then 22, and Yair, 23, knew many of the same people but did not know one another. “We were both at the shiva almost the whole time,” recalls Yair, “and that’s when we first noticed each other.”
A day after the shiva, Yair sent Noa a text message and invited her for a milkshake. They continued to text throughout the day, and by the time they went out that night for their first date, there was already a strong connection. “In fact, we even talked about wedding songs,” smiles Noa. They both liked the Hebrew song by Amir Benayun, “I have a dream,” beginning with the words, “You understand me in the most difficult moments.”
Noa knows when something feels right. After graduating high school, she signed up for Sherut Leumi, the national service option for religious girls, and worked in a hospital to help children with cancer. “After my first day, I decided I wanted to be a nurse,” says Noa. Today Noa is a second-year student at The School of Nursing at Sheba Medical Center.
Until the summer of 2014, neither Noa nor Yair had dated much. “But after our first date, we were pretty much inseparable,” says Yair. That is, when they are both in the same city at the same time. Yair is a first-year student in Chinese Business at the University of Haifa. Noa’s school is about 50 miles (80 kilometers) away.
“Yair likes to talk and I enjoy listening,” says Noa. “And we both enjoy music and going on hikes.” About four months after they met, Yair proposed to Noa. “I don’t get surprised easily,” explains Noa. “But Yair caught me off guard. He’s an amazing organizer.”
At their marriage ceremony, Noa and Yair remembered the past and looked forward to the future. The father of their dear friend, Oded, recited two of the blessings under the chuppa. Afterwards, the guests danced to the song of Amir Benayun, which ends: “I have hope, that with the help of faith, we will be able to fulfill our dream.”
Noa and Yair were married in the town of Kiryat Ata on March 9, 2015. Mazal tov.
Dr. Leah Hakimian currently researches the question: How Jewish couples meet and marry. In the 90’s she founded two nonprofit Jewish matchmaking programs, and continues to champion the role of community in helping singles meet. She resides in Jerusalem and Great Neck, New York.
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