Features
Helen Nadel is about to assume the presidency of an important world-wide body: The Society of Nuclear Medicine and Molecular Imaging
And while Helen Nadel has had a distinguished career in medicine as a pediatric radiologist and nuclear medicine physician – Winnipeg will always be near and dear to her
By BERNIE BELLAN Quite often this newspaper has published articles about former Winnipeggers who have gone on to great careers once they’ve left Winnipeg. If there’s one thing our Jewish community here has been especially proficient at doing, it’s been serving as a springboard for outstanding students to launch successful careers elsewhere.
In some ways, while we may lament that so many of our “best and brightest” have sought to further their careers by leaving Manitoba, almost all those expatriates have something in common, and that’s a deep affection for their hometown – also for the bonds that they formed growing up in Winnipeg.
A few months ago I happened to be in conversation with one of our out-of-town readers: Diane Unrode-Ackley. Diane mentioned that a good friend of hers, Helen Nadel, had recently been elected to serve as the upcoming president of a rarified body: The Society of Nuclear Medicine and Molecular Imaging.
Now, I should also explain that Helen has been an online subscriber to this paper for many years but, like many other online subscribers, I really didn’t have a clue where Helen lived – or what Helen’s background was.
I told Diane that I would definitely want to interview Helen to ask her about her career and what led up to her assuming the presidency of such an important body. But, as you might expect, Helen Nadel is one very busy woman. Try as we might to find a time that would work for both of us to conduct an in-depth interview, it wasn’t until earlier this past month that we were able to speak – face to face so to speak, via Zoom.
What follows are excerpts from that interview, but first here is Helen Nadel’s bio as given on the Stanford University School of Medicine website:
“Dr. Nadel is a dual board -certified Pediatric Radiologist and Nuclear Medicine Physician in both the USA and Canada. She holds certifications from the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada in Diagnostic Radiology and Nuclear Medicine, The American Board of Radiology (ABR) with certificate of added qualification in Pediatric Radiology and the American Board of Nuclear Medicine (ABNM). Dr. Nadel was an Associate Professor of Radiology at University of British Columbia and had been practicing as a pediatric radiologist and pediatric nuclear medicine physician at British Columbia Children’s Hospital in Vancouver, British Columbia since 1983 after medical school at University of Manitoba (1977, Winnipeg, Manitoba), internship and residency at University of Toronto (1978-1982) and Pediatric Radiology fellowship (Chief Fellow) at Hospital for Sick Children (1982-1983, Toronto, Ont.) She has been working with the entire breadth of general and hybrid nuclear medicine studies in children in a fully integrated department of Pediatric Radiology and lecturing to promote this field for her entire career. Dr. Nadel currently uses PET/MRI exclusively for PET imaging at Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital at Stanford University (LPCH) and co-directs the clinical PET/MRI program at LPCH. Dr. Nadel has been inducted as a Fellow of the Society of Nuclear Medicine and Molecular Imaging (FSNMMI). Dr. Nadel is the 2022-2023 President-Elect of the Society of Nuclear Medicine and Molecular Imaging.”
And here is the interview:
JP&N: ¨Nice to meet you – finally.”
Nadel: “You too.
JP&N: “We actually met seven years ago at the Jewish Schools Reunion. You’ve had a very illustrious career – and worn many hats, but tell me something about your growing up in Winnipeg.”
Nadel: “I’m a north ender – an only child. My mother came to Winnipeg in 1921 – she was born near Kiev.
“My father came after the war. He had had a military career in the Polish Army. He was captured by the Russians in 1939 and sent to the Gulag. Then when he was repatriated he walked back over the Ural mountains to then fight in the free Polish division of the Russian army.”
JP&N: “Wow!” (Ed. note: That would have been over 2,000 kilometres! At this point I’m including a later part of the interview in which Helen elaborated upon what happened to her father.)
JP&N: “Did you say he had to walk from the Gulag?”
Nadel: “Yes, he walked. It took him two years. He lived in the Ural Mountains, he lived in Uzbekistan.”
JP&N: ¨I just wrote about a book by another doctor – Meyer Kreger. It was the memoir of his mother, Rose. She was also from Poland and survived the war after being sent to Siberia, then Uzbekistan, then Kazakhstan. The stories of how some people were able to survive when others couldn’t endure are endlessly fascinating.”
Nadel: “You know Francie Winograd, don’t you? My father was in the same DP camp as Francie’s mother (Gertrude) after the war. It was near Munich.
“When my father came to Winnipeg, he met the Grosh family – and they had a sister-in-law who was in her thirties and not married. She was introduced to my father and as they say, the rest is history.” (I had to tell Helen that Gerry Posner uses that line in every story he writes.)
“They were married in 1949 and I was born in ’52.”
“I went to Peretz School in Winnipeg and then to Jefferson and Garden City Collegiate. I graduated and did undergrad and med school in Winnipeg. After that‚ I went to a Toronto to do my specialty training in radiology. I’m a radiologist‚ and I have two specialties – actually. three specialties. I’m a radiologist‚ but I sub specialize in pediatric radiology, and I also have a secondary qualification in nuclear medicine, both of which are diagnostic tools.
“One uses what you would think of as conventional X rays and now, ultrasound. MRI is general radiology. Nuclear medicine uses a small amount of radioactive material to also look at how the body works, how it functions. The new thing about nuclear medicine – it’s not so new really, is we can also use it for therapy. So, if you’ve heard of people having thyroid disease, sometimes we give them radioactivity to treat thyroid cancer.
“And now, the big thing‚ of course‚ is we can treat prostate cancer in men; we can treat other cancers as well. But the new kid on the block is treating prostate cancer with radioactive material. We’ve had very good success. But I’m a pediatric person‚ so that’s not actually my purview at the moment.
“But part of the reason I think Diane wanted you to talk to me is I’m about to become the President of the Society of Nuclear Medicine and Molecular Imaging.”
JP&N: ¨You haven’t assumed the throne yet, have you?”
Nadel: “My presidential year starts in June of this year. But I’ve been in the leadership (of the Society) for three years. I was elected in June 2021.”
JP&N: ¨You’re going to become head of a worldwide organization – right, or is it just American?”
Nadel: “It’s a worldwide organization, based in the US‚ but it is global. We are the largest organization (in the field of nuclear medicine). We have a membership that includes physicians‚ technologists‚ scientists and industry. And it has about 14,000 (members). There are some other organizations (in the field). There are regional – sort of country-based organizations. There are continental-based organizations – like the European Association of Nuclear Medicine – but we’re much bigger.”
JP&N: “You said your specialty is pediatric radiology. Is that right?”
Helen: “Yes‚ ¨I’m a pediatric radiologist.”
JP&N: “So, up to what age would you be treating patients?”
Nadel: Well‚ that’s a good question – usually to age 18. However‚ here at Stanford‚ we have a lot of children that have had diseases as infants‚ and we keep seeing them as they become adults. We still see them. So, it’s a movable barrier. But usually pediatrics is to 18.”
JP&N: ¨I assume you know Ted Lyons.”
Nadel: “I do. Ted was instrumental in bringing ultrasound to Winnipeg and to Canada and as such he came to teach us in our radiology training program at the University of Toronto.”
(At that moment Helen’s phone rang and she had to take a short call. When Helen resumed our Zoom call I noticed a male figure had wandered into the background.)
JP&N: “Who’s that wandering into the background now? Is that your husband?”
Nadel: “Yes, that’s my husband.”
JP&N: “What’s your husband’s name?”
Nadel: “Tevy Goodman. ‘Tevy, say hi to Bernie Bellan‚ the editor of the Jewish Post.’ ”
JP&N: “Are you in Palo Alto? Is that where I’m reaching you now?”
Nadel: “We’re in Palo Alto. We’re in the heart of Silicon Valley. I came to Stanford five years ago. I was recruited here. Actually‚ I was sort of retiring from my job. I had been 35 years at Children’s Hospital – at British Columbia Children’s Hospital in Vancouver – as a pediatric radiologist and the head of their pediatric nuclear medicine department, and I was going to sort of retire – slow down, at least.
“But there was a new hospital at Stanford – a new children’s hospital. I have a lot of friends in the community all over and one of them here convinced me that I should at least look at this job. And you know what it was? It was an opportunity that not many people would get. And, so, instead of retiring‚ I decided to come here – and I’m moving – going ‘uphill’ to go ‘downhill’.”
JP&N: Are most of your duties teaching or clinical? How does it break down?”
Nadel: “I am a clinical physician. I’m in charge of a new division – brand new at this hospital‚ which is called Pediatric Nuclear Medicine. I am also a full service pediatric radiologist. And so I have two hats – two big hats.
“We have some unique equipment here that not many places in the world have – and I’m kind of a leader. I don’t want to blow my own horn‚ but I’m a leader in a field called PET/MRI (Positron Emission Tomography/Magnetic Resonance Imaging).
“Winnipeg has a PET/CT scanner. There are two in Vancouver. There are two down the street from here, where I live. So‚ you know‚ it’s just a different world, it’s a different focus‚ a different way of doing things. I’ve been very fortunate that I’ve been able to use these exceptional tools for over 20 years now in my practice, both in Canada and the US. And pediatric lags behind adults in this area – just because we’re smaller. You know, there are fewer kids, but 25% of the world population is pediatric. It will increase as the Boomers get older and die off . Some Third World countries have mostly young people, so it will take a while to build up another Boomer type age group once we’re out of the picture. And disease will get younger in the medical field.”
JP&N: ¨ There are all sorts of scary news reports about cancer, saying it’s increasing – depending on who you talk to. Yesterday‚ I think I saw in Time Magazine, that 50% of people will have cancer in their lifetimes. Someone else told me‚ 70% – but she’s really into conspiracy theories. Can you give a more specific figure or is it hard to do that?”
Nadel: “I don’t have an answer to that. But there are some reports that suggest that the ages at which some people are getting certain diseases are getting younger. There was a big report this week on colon cancer – saying people are getting it younger. It’s being picked up at younger ages. I think that’s in part due to the fact that we have better techniques to pick these diseases up. We are taking more interest in preventative health‚ and that’s okay.
“One of the things that attracted me to Stanford was the physician who recruited me. His name was Sam Gambhir. He was an absolute giant in the field. Unfortunately, he died two years ago of cancer – a very horrible story. You could look him up. He was brilliant. But he basically was on track and his lab -which is still here‚ was on track to promote precision health and preventative health. And precision medicine includes wearable technology, you know.
“One of the last things he wrote about – a great article‚ was about the ‘smart toilet’ And it exists, basically. Your toilet can determine if you have disease by your feces. But nobody knows that’s the case. There’s so much going on in the world. I mean‚ this is beyond me‚ but I’m just saying that there’s a lot of stuff going on.
“So, the statistics are enabling us to pick up more diseases‚ and we’re picking it up earlier. We’re finding ways to treat it. But, have we moved the dial? I’m not sure yet. We don’t know yet. We don’t have enough information yet to determine if we’ve moved the dial in the right direction. I think we will, but I think it’s going to take a little longer to actually prove that.
JP&N: “Okay‚ I want to talk about your new position, but I also want to put a little bit of a ‘haimish’ touch to this. You said you left Winnipeg – when?. Were you in your twenties?”
Nadel: I left Winnipeg after I graduated from med school. I was 24.”
JP&N: “And you went to Toronto for postgraduate?”
Nadel: “Basically, you have to do a year of postgraduate training to get a medical license. I actually did what was called in those days a rotating internship. So I did twelve months of a bunch of everything – all different parts of medicine. I actually thought I would become a family physician and come back to Winnipeg. Then I met my husband. We actually met in Winnipeg. He’s from Vancouver‚ but we met in Winnipeg‚ and he followed me to Toronto. He didn’t want to come back to Winnipeg – put it that way.”
JP&N: “Sounds familiar.”
Nadel: “We thought we would end up in Toronto. And, after 14 years of postgraduate education – which included all my radiology training…I also did specialty training; after a year of internship; after four years of radiology residency and a one year pediatric radiology fellowship – I didn’t have a job! I needed a job. And I got offered to do much like what I’m doing here: start up a new program at a brand new hospital in Vancouver – British Columbia Children’s Hospital. I was 30 years old.
¨And my husband being from Vancouver‚ that seemed like a reasonable thing to do for what we thought would be five years. We ended up having two daughters in those first five years – and we never left.”
JP&N: “Can I ask: What did your husband do?”
Nadel: “My husband is a retired professional engineer – a civil engineer and, in an interesting twist‚ he helped build some of the nuclear generating stations in Ontario. He worked in construction development and then in power group development. He worked for Ontario Hydro for all the years that we were in Ontario. And then he basically retired.”
“He took care of me and the kids and it just worked out that way. Coming back to Vancouver turned out to be a good thing and a bad thing when we came back. We came for my job because I did not have another job, and it looked like he would get a similar job in civil engineering, but that had dried up in the 80s (when nuclear plants stopped being built).
“And, our first child was premature But, you know what? The decision to have one parent at home was the right decision. And so it was him. I was young; he was a great father. He is a great father. So he was a forerunner then. And he was not Mr. Mom. He was everything. He is everything still. I couldn’t have done anything I did – and still do if I didn’t have that kind of support.”
JP&N: “So, as far as your Winnipeg roots go‚ I know that you’re friends with Diane Unrode-Ackley. Do you still have many friends from that time?”
Nadel: “Well Diane is like a sister me. I really had a close circle of three. Mindy (Unrode, Diane’s younger sister, who sadly died in 1986) was my best friend. We met when we were seven or eight years old. We were friends forever. She moved to Toronto as well after she got divorced.
“My second close friend was Cheryl Schwartz, who’s now (Dr.) Cheryl Minuk – also in Toronto.
JP&N: “She’s a subscriber, too. I talk to her occasionally.”
Nadel: And my other close friend was (Madame Justice) Robyn (Moglove) Diamond (who also passed away – in 2018). The four of us (Helen, Mindy, Cheryl, and Robyn) were best friends.
JP&N: “What street did you grow up on?”
Nadel: “I grew up on Scotia Street‚ between Smithfield and McAdam. My cousins are the Grosh family. I should mention that my family were also long time shul goers at Rosh Pina.”
JP&N: I just heard from Joel (Grosh). His mother (Tesse) just passed and we had her obituary in the paper. This is really a little Jewish geography we’re doing.”
Nadel: “Totally. So, Tesse’s husband, Abe, and I were first cousins. Our mothers were sisters‚ but I’m almost the same age as Joel; he’s one year older than me. So, even though I’m one generation older than him we grew up together. We grew up in a compound almost. Joel’s family lived next door to us until they built their really nice house on Smithfield. His grandparents lived next door to him – half a block away
“What happened is two brothers – named Grosh, married two sisters my aunts – whose name was Chmelnitsky – and they lived across the street from each other. In a real twist of fate, someone else you know, Osher (Archie) Kraut, is also my cousin.
“They’re cousins on my father’s side – which is how my father came to Winnipeg after the war. Archie’s parents actually brought him to Winnipeg. He was only planning to pass through Winnipeg on his way to Israel. He’d been in a DP camp for four years. He had had typhus; he wasn’t that well. And then he came to Winnipeg. He wasn’t even 40.”
JP&N: “By the way, we’re only a year apart in age. Well, let’s turn to the position you’re about to assume. What will be your actual title?”
Nadel: “I’ll be President of the Society of Nuclear Medicine and Molecular Imaging. When you’re first elected‚ you are vice-president elect‚ then you become president elect‚ then you become president, and then you become past president. What happens is you’re part of the leadership, basically. So, as president elect you travel together with the president. You deal with all of the sort of day to day problems that such an organization might have. We deal with the US federal government, for the most part. We deal with international governments related to the supply of radiopharmaceuticals that we use in our medical careers. And we also have international organizations. We deal with the International Atomic Energy Agency, which I’ve been involved with for 20 years as well, on a consultancy basis.
“How did I get to where I am in this organization? Well‚ as a pediatric radiologist and nuclear medicine physician‚ I was always interested in promoting the interests of children. They’re different than adults. There’s a saying that children are not small adults, and that’s true. And so, in some things, kids do get left behind. They don’t get some of the drugs. They don’t get some of the treatments that are available, some of the diagnostic things that you could do, some things you don’t want to do, etc.
“But it’s important to promote pediatrics. I’ve been a strong proponent of educating people about my field, my particular area of interest. I met people along the way who were interested in how I do things. I was interested in the organization that I belong to. I’m promoting the fact that there are new techniques that we can utilize. I’ve just been vocal. I teach, I give a lot of lectures, I’m not shy. Well‚ I guess you could say I’m an ‘introverted extrovert.’
“I got known in my field as a speaker, somebody who was interesting. I worked as a solo practitioner in my area – in Vancouver, even here (at Stanford). It’s usually never more than one person that does pediatric nuclear medicine in any hospital department.
“I suppose the reason I got to where I got was I volunteered to get involved in different parts of the organization, but I wasn’t aspiring to do this (become president of the nuclear medicine association). But again, much like coming to Stanford, somebody asked if I would consider doing it. My reaction was, given that I was new at Stanford and that I’m trying to grow a brand new program, (the administrators at Stanford) would say, ‘Are you crazy? We’re not giving you that time.’
“But, instead, they were delighted. But when you say you’re willing to put your name forward for election, you actually have to run an election. I ran an election. I sent out 10,000 emails.”
JP&N: “Were there other candidates running?”
Nadel: “There was another candidate that ran, but I won the election in June 2021. I’m going to be the seventy-first president of this organization. I’ll also be the fifth woman, the fifth pediatric person, and the third Canadian.”
JP&N: “Are you an American citizen now, too (in addition to being a Canadian citizen?”
Nadel: “No, no, I am a Canadian citizen. I do have a green card. My husband and I both have green cards, but we’ll always be Canadian.”
JP&N: “Okay, Helen, this has been terrific. It was very nice meeting you – finally. This was a long time in coming. It was hard to pin you down, but I’m glad we did this.
Nadel: “Okay, I hate talking about myself, but thanks for this. It was great.”
Following our interview I asked Helen to provide some information about her two daughters. Here’s what she wrote:
“My husband and I have two daughters. Frani is a cantor, having graduated from the Jewish Theological Seminary of America in NYC as a cantor in the Conservative movement. She is currently completing a fellowship in Vancouver to be a chaplain. She has Master Degrees in Sacred Music and Jewish Education and also teaches in the Jewish education system in Vancouver.
“Daniella has a Masters Degree in Early Childhood Special Education from Hunter College in NYC. She is currently teaching kindergarten in a charter school in Brooklyn, also completing a second Masters degree in Speech Therapy.”
Mahler the Jew: A futuristic fantasy (Part II)
David Topper
Features
A Jewish farmer broke ground on a synagogue in an Illinois cornfield. His neighbors showed up to help.
By Benyamin Cohen May 8, 2026 “This story was originally published in the Forward. Click here to get the Forward’s free email newsletters delivered to your inbox.”
Benyamin has been reporting for more than a year on the improbable story of Nik Jakobs. Catch up here and here, and stay tuned for a forthcoming piece about a trip they took to the Netherlands to visit the towns where the Jakobs family survived the Holocaust. Yesterday was an important moment in Jakobs’ overall journey, and we wanted to share it with you.
STERLING, ILLINOIS — On Wednesday, Nik Jakobs was planting corn. On Thursday, the 41-year-old Illinois cattle farmer stood in a two-acre cornfield preparing to plant something else: a synagogue.
Around 75 people gathered on the edge of the field this week in Sterling, Illinois, a two-hour drive west of Chicago, where Jakobs and his family broke ground on a new home for Temple Sholom, the small congregation that has anchored Jewish life here for more than a century, and where his family has prayed since the 1950s.
The planned 4,000-square-foot building will also house a Holocaust museum inspired by the story of Jakobs’ grandparents, Edith and Norbert, who survived the war after Christian families in the Netherlands hid them in their homes for years. Jakobs described the future museum as a place devoted not only to Jewish history, but to teaching the dangers of hatred and division. “If you have the choice to be right or kind,” he said, repeating advice from his grandmother, “choose kind.”
A 60-foot blue ribbon — chosen by Jakobs’ wife, Katie, to match the color of the Israeli flag — stretched across the future building site. His four daughters held it alongside his parents, brothers and friends. Then they lifted oversized gold scissors and cut the ribbon as pastors, farmers, city officials and members of neighboring churches applauded.
The synagogue rising from this Illinois cornfield will house pieces of the past.
A nearby storage area holds Jewish objects Jakobs rescued from shuttered synagogues across the country: stained-glass windows, Torah arks, rabbi’s chairs, memorial plaques and wooden tablets engraved with the tribes of Israel. Many came from Temple B’nai Israel, a 113-year-old synagogue that closed down in 2025. It served generations of Jews in McKeesport, Pennsylvania, now a ghost town since the steel mills closed. Its remaining congregants donated sacred objects to Jakobs so their story could live on rather than disappear.
The day before the groundbreaking, the Jakobs family began opening some of the crates for the first time since they were packed away nearly a year ago. Nik’s father, Dave Jakobs, pried open one box with a hammer and crowbar while Nik loosened screws with an electric drill, the family gathered around like archaeologists opening a tomb.
Inside was a stained-glass window with images of a tallit and shofar bursting in jewel tones of blue, yellow and red. Jakobs’ mother, Margo, lifted Annie, the youngest of Nik’s daughters, so the 4-year-old could peer inside. The bright red glass matched the bow in her hair.
Nearby sat the massive wooden ark salvaged from Pennsylvania, topped with twin Lions of Judah whose carved paws once overlooked generations of worshippers.
Faith on the farmland
Temple Sholom — founded in 1910 — was once the center of Jewish life in Sterling, a town of 14,500 surrounded by flat farmland and tall grain silos. Its Jewish community once included a pharmacist, the manager of Kline’s department store and the owner of a local McDonald’s franchise.
Over time, membership dwindled. The roof sagged. The pews emptied.
Last year, the congregation sold its aging building and relocated High Holiday services to a tent on the Jakobs’ farm, where prayers mingled with the smell of manure and cattle lowing nearby.
At a moment when many small-town synagogues are closing, Temple Sholom is doing something increasingly rare: building a bigger new sanctuary from scratch. The synagogue will sit prominently along one of Sterling’s main roads — a highly visible expression of Jewish life in a region where Jews are few.
Thursday’s groundbreaking took place on the National Day of Prayer, the annual observance formalized under President Ronald Reagan, who grew up a few miles away in Dixon, Illinois. Earlier that morning, attendees gathered inside New Life Lutheran Church for a breakfast sponsored by Temple Sholom.
“I was so happy to see bagels, lox and cream cheese,” said Rev. James Keenan, a Catholic priest originally from Brooklyn. “It reminded me of home.”
Inside the church sanctuary, a large wooden cross glowed amber and blue above the dais while two giant screens displayed the National Day of Prayer logo. Jakobs, wearing cowboy boots, jeans and a powder-blue blazer, addressed the crowd.
“Tolerance is not weakness,” he said. “It is strength.”
The new synagogue will sit beside New Life Lutheran Church on land sold to Temple Sholom by farmer Dan Koster, 71, who has known the Jakobs family for three generations.
“We need more religious presence in the community,” Koster said.
For Drew Williams, New Life’s 38-year-old lead pastor, the synagogue and museum represent more than neighboring buildings. His church already hosts food-packing drives, summer meal programs and community events. He imagines future partnerships with Temple Sholom.
“I don’t think there’s any community that is immune to hate,” Williams said. “That just means it’s on us” to be on the other side “spreading peace.”
Sterling Mayor Diana Merdian, who is 41 and grew up in town with Jakobs, said the project reflects a broader desire among younger generations to preserve local history and identity. “If we don’t carry those stories, we lose them,” she said. “Once you lose that, you can’t get it back.”
During the ceremony in the cornfield, Temple Sholom’s longtime cantor, Lori Schwaber, asked those gathered to remember the congregation’s founding members and recite the Mourner’s Kaddish together. Jews and Christians stood side by side in the prairie wind as Hebrew prayers drifted across the open farmland.
Lester Weinstine, a 90-year-old congregant who was the first bar mitzvah at Temple Sholom when the shul was still housed out of a Pepsi bottling plant, looked out across the field in disbelief. “I never thought I would see this,” he said.
For Jakobs, the synagogue project has become inseparable from the lessons his grandparents’ survival taught him. “You sometimes feel on an island as a Jew, especially in rural America,” he said. “But this community — that’s not what I’ve experienced here.”
If construction stays on schedule, the synagogue will open in fall 2027. Its first major service will not be a dedication ceremony, but the bat mitzvah of Jakobs’ oldest daughter, Taylor.
Members of the Pennsylvania congregation are planning a bus trip to Illinois for the occasion, after donating many of their sacred objects to help build Jakob’s synagogue. Their former rabbi has offered to officiate.
“If a farmer can build a synagogue in a cornfield,” Jakobs said, “anybody can do it anywhere.”
Benyamin Cohen is a senior writer at the Forward and host of our morning briefing, Forwarding the News. He is the author of two books, My Jesus Year and The Einstein Effect.
This story was originally published on the Forward.
Features
Ancient Torah Lessons Students Can Still Use Today In Class
Texts don’t survive through age alone; they survive because each generation finds something new and intriguing in them. One such text is the Torah. Students will find it useful in classes ranging from religion to philosophy, literature, or cultural studies, but many of its teachings aren’t confined to the past either. Stories from the Torah touch upon topics like stress, conflict, leadership, confusion, errors, accountability, and meaning. It sounds remarkably contemporary.
A student approaching the study of Torah has several options: religious text, historical source, literary piece, and a basis for philosophical contemplation. They all provide opportunities to explore the text in unique ways. The student writing on ancient texts or ethics can use EssayPro, the company employs experts, including Paul S., a full-time writer, who could assist the student with structuring their research. But great essays on ancient texts require more than just the approach of a museum curator.
The goal is not to shoehorn ancient narratives into a modern form or to look for an easy life hack in every single passage. Rather, students need to think about what made those stories stand the test of time. What did they observe about people? What did they try to warn against? And last but not least, what virtues did they celebrate? As soon as students start asking such questions, the Torah appears much closer.
Ancient Texts Teach Students To Be Patient Readers
Modern students are trained to read quickly. Just skim through the article. Scan all the comments. Read the summary and move forward. It does not quite work with the Torah, though. Many of the passages are rather short but rich in conflict, repetition, silence, and subtle details. Sometimes a person’s name, a long journey, an order given, or even a family squabble means more than expected.
For this reason, it is a great practice for students to deal with, as education is mostly geared toward finishing chapters faster, submitting assignments sooner, and hitting deadlines regularly. However, profound reflection requires patience, and the Torah is the perfect tool.
This type of reading goes past religious education alone. Students who learn to pace themselves with Torah can carry this approach into their literature, legal, historical, philosophical, and even scientific readings. Details are crucial. Contexts are crucial. Silence is equally crucial to speech.
Questions Do Not Denigrate One’s Faith Or Cognition
One of the best lessons for students from the Torah is that sincere people pose serious questions. The texts are full of debates, disagreements, doubts, tests, and misunderstandings. The addressees do not understand the demands placed on them. They argue, they bargain, and sometimes make mistakes.
It is necessary for the reason that many students view good studying as a process of getting clear and immediate responses to questions. It is usually not the case. Learning can start from frustration and confusion, since such a passage can serve better than an easy one.
During lessons, students should not fear questioning why a character did something like that, what their motivation was, what the possible consequences of their actions were, how it was perceived at that time, or how other cultures interpret the passage. Asking questions neither denigrates the subject nor learning itself.
Responsibility Is Greater Than Personal Success
In contemporary educational circles, the discourse of success often revolves around the personal gain that follows from achievement. Earn good grades. Construct your résumé. Land scholarships. Map out your future career path. On numerous occasions, the Torah asks a much larger question: what are our obligations to one another?
Themes associated with the concepts of justice, community, caring for the weak, honesty, and responsibility recur regularly throughout the work. These recurring motifs serve to undermine the narrow understanding of education and suggest that knowledge informs conduct.
To students, this message could be particularly relevant, as they face a daily opportunity to exercise their responsibility as members of the academic community. Education is more than a competitive pursuit, and the values that are promoted by the Torah can manifest themselves in group projects, class discussions, peer interactions, and other facets of college life.
Leaders Need Humility
Many students picture great leaders as people with big voices and confidence, who seem to have power from birth. Torah portrays leaders in a more complex way. They are hesitant, flawed, fearful, impatient, and highly human. Greatness is not portrayed as an absolute quality; rather, it is viewed as an ordeal.
This makes for some valuable insight for all those students who believe they lack “leader type” personalities. Leaders are not necessarily extroverts or people who get along easily with everyone else. Sometimes they speak up against injustice; at other times, they own up to their mistakes. Most of the time, they take responsibility even if it is hard.
This is also a useful perspective for all those people who lead student organizations and groups and manage projects for them. Being in charge doesn’t mean one can afford arrogance. A leader needs to know how to listen and learn, and leadership entails responsibility rather than power.
Memory Allows For Self-Understanding By Humans
There is a reason why the Torah speaks of memories time and again: remembering journeys, vows, commandments, failures, oppression, and liberation. This is not a form of nostalgia. Memories create identity. Memories tell people about their origin and things they cannot forget.
Students can take a lesson from it. In a world where everything keeps changing, memories may appear too slow or impractical. However, memories are useful to a student because they help one understand one’s place within a larger scheme of things. One learns about oneself through family history, national narrative, religious traditions, personal experience of migration, community experience, and culture.
It does not imply that students should blindly follow anything and everything handed down by others. Students should know where they stand and where they come from. Otherwise, they cannot make proper decisions in the present.
Features
Cricket in Israel: where it came from, why it’s barely visible, and who plays it today
Cricket made its way to Israeli soil back in the British Mandate period, and later got a boost from waves of immigration from India, South Africa, and the United Kingdom. Despite such a long history, it barely registers in the mainstream: it never found a place on TV, and the rules remain a mystery even to many sports journalists. Today, cricket grounds are used mostly by immigrants and a handful of local enthusiasts, for whom the game has become something far more than just a pastime.
The British trace and the first matches on Israeli soil
The history of cricket in the region goes back to the days when the British flag flew over Palestine. Officers and officials of the Mandate administration brought with them not only bureaucratic traditions, but also the habit of gathering on trimmed lawns with a bat and a red ball. For the local population, used to passionate football and fast-paced basketball, it looked utterly foreign: hours-long matches, strict white outfits, tea breaks.
The “exotic” sport was slow to take root. When the Mandate ended and the new state shifted to completely different priorities, cricket quietly slipped to the margins of the sports scene, surviving only in the memory of a few.
Waves of immigration that brought cricket back all over again
The game was given a second life by immigrants from countries where cricket was an everyday thing. People from India, South Africa, and England, as they settled in Israel, looked for familiar ways to spend their free time and quickly found one another. For them, a weekend match meant not so much sport as a way to unwind and speak their native language.
However, even within these communities, cricket never became a mass pastime. It remained an activity for a narrow circle, like home cooking—made for special occasions, not put on a restaurant menu.
Why cricket didn’t break into the Israeli mainstream
There are several reasons the game remains invisible, and each one on its own would already be enough:
- Competition with football, basketball, and extreme sports, which take viewers’ attention and sponsorship budgets.
- The near-total absence of cricket on TV and in major sports media.
- The complexity of the rules for newcomers: many Israelis still don’t see the difference between cricket and baseball.
- A cultural unfamiliarity with spending half a day on the field for a single match, watching tactical nuances from a blanket on the grass.
Taken together, this creates a situation where even the rare bits of cricket news slip past in people’s feeds unnoticed.
Who takes the field today
The core of the community is made up of students and IT specialists from India, engineers who arrived on work visas, and immigrants from South Africa and the United Kingdom. They’re joined by a small group of locals who discovered cricket while studying or traveling abroad.
For many of them, the ground turns into a space for cultural memory: Hindi and English can be heard, whole families come along, and children run around the field while their parents discuss the finer points of the last delivery. There are no roaring fan sections here, but everyone knows everyone, and the sense of belonging turns out to be stronger than in the stands at any stadium.
Where and how matches happen without a major league
A typical place to play: a park on the edge of town, a rented pitch, hand-marked lines. Organizers combine the roles of coaches, umpires, and commentators. Matches are put together on weekends, and the whole thing feels more like a club scene than a professional structure.
Everyday hassles have become part of the folklore: soccer players take over the field, the ball disappears into the bushes, someone among the key players can’t get away from work. Every attempt to organize a full match feels like tilting at windmills.
Cricket’s prospects: the barriers are stronger than the hype
You can count specialized fields across the country on one hand, government funding is minimal, and media attention goes to sports that are more spectacular and easier to understand.
Even so, things have started to move. Israel’s national team periodically plays in international tournaments, and every win becomes a small celebration for the community. Youth sections have begun to appear within communities—more like after-school clubs for now—and enthusiasts are experimenting with shorter formats to lower the barrier to entry for newcomers.
Does growth in betting activity point to cricket’s popularity?
An indirect indicator of interest in cricket in any country has long been activity in the online betting segment. Industry iGaming portals regularly publish regional statistics, and we reviewed data from several major bookmakers: 1xBet, PinUp, Melbet. On the website, in a review of the 1xBet cricket betting app, we learned that the number of downloads from Israel is still small, but a slight uptick is still being recorded. This matches the overall picture: the cricket community in the country is growing slowly but steadily, and the betting-platform figures only confirm a trend that enthusiasts can see on the ground, in person.
Cricket in Israel is unlikely to turn into a mass sport in the foreseeable future, but it continues to live on thanks to a resilient community of immigrants and local fans who keep the game going despite the circumstances and make it visible at least within its own small, if modest, world.