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With goblins, spellcasters and delis, board game makers are imagining new Jewish worlds
(JTA) — Running a not-so-Zagat-rated deli, dropping into a Chinese restaurant for Christmas Eve dinner and acting out a bat mitzvah that involves a vampire — for contemporary board game fans, those can be all in an evening’s play.
That’s because a crop of new games aims to merge Jewish ideas and experiences with the aesthetics and language of games such as Dungeons & Dragons. Dream Apart places players in a fantastical reimagining of a 19th-century shtetl, for example, while J.R. Goldberg’s God of Vengeance draws inspiration from the Yiddish play of the same name. In the games in Doikayt, a collection released in 2020, players can literally wrestle with God.
Known as tabletop role-playing games because they ask players to take on a character, these games and their creators imagine exciting new worlds, subvert classic tropes in fun and irreverent ways, and reinterpret Jewish history and identity.
Tabletop role-playing games like Dungeons & Dragons and Call of Cthulhu have exploded in popularity over the past several years, with many — including at least one group of rabbis — picking up the Zoom-friendly hobby during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. But the new Jewish games aim to do more than just provide a diversion or even an escape.
“Depending on your family, depending on your synagogue, depending on your community, you may have gotten more or fewer options of what Jewishness could mean in your imagination,” said Lucian Kahn, who created a trilogy of humorous Jewish role-playing games.
“What some of these games are doing is opening that up and pointing to alternate possibilities of imagining Jewishness, not as a way of converting anyone to anything else, but just as a way of showing the tradition is enormous,” he added.
Kahn is the creator of If I Were a Lich, Man, a trilogy of humorous games whose name is a mashup between a “Fiddler on the Roof” song and an undead character, the lich, that frequently appears in fantasy fiction and games. In the title game, players are Jewish liches — spellcasters whose souls, in the lore of Dungeons & Dragons, are stored in phylacteries, the Greek word for tefillin used by Jews in prayer. Representing the four children of the Passover seder, they debate how their community should address the threat of encroaching holy knights.
In some cases, the association of Jews with monsters has given rise to charges of antisemitism — the goblins of “Harry Potter” offer a prime example. But Kahn said he sees Jewish-coded monsters, and queer-coded villains, as figures of resistance.
“There’s a long tradition of looking at the monster and seeing that the reason why these are monsters is because the people who have oppressive power have decided that these are going to be the enemies of the ‘good’ oppressive powers,” Kahn explained. “But if you don’t agree with their ideology, if you’re seeing yourself as being a member of a marginalized community and being in opposition to these oppressive powers, then you can look at the qualities assigned to these monsters and some of them are qualities that are good.”
For Kahn, Jewish-coded monster characters also provide more of an inspiration than the archetypes of more traditional games.
“Maybe somebody thinks they’re insulting me or insulting Jews,” he said. “My response is: I like vampires and liches and trolls and goblins and think they’re much more interesting than bland white muscular humans running through the fields with a cross on their chest hacking at the same things with a sword over and over again.”
Kahn’s outlook has resonated in the tabletop role-playing game community. In February, he and Hit Point Press launched a Kickstarter to fund production of If I Were a Lich, Man. The campaign smashed its $5,000 goal, raising $84,590, enough to hit one of the campaign’s stretch goals of funding a grant to support independent zines about tabletop role-playing games.
The successful campaign means that Kahn’s three games will go into production. In addition to the game about liches, the trilogy includes Same Bat Time, Same Bat Mitzvah, in which players act out a bat mitzvah where one guest has been turned into a vampire, and Grandma’s Drinking Song, inspired by how Kahn’s Jewish great-great grandmother and her children survived in 1920s New York City by working as bootleggers during Prohibition.
In Grandma’s Drinking Song, players write a drinking song together as they act out scenes. Kahn, the former singer/songwriter and guitarist for Brooklyn Jewish queercore folk-punk band Schmekel, wanted to carry over elements of music into this game.
A throughline in all three games is the power of creative resistance to authority — a narrative that Kahn said strikes him as particularly Jewish.
“There are all these stories in Jewish folklore that are really overtly about finding trickster-y or creative ways of fighting back against oppressive and unjust governmental regimes, evil kings, bad advisors,” Kahn said. “One of the first stories I ever heard in my life was the Purim story, so it’s very embedded in my mind as a part of Jewish consciousness, when evil rulers come to power and try to kill us all, we’re supposed to find these outside-the-box ways of preventing that from happening.”
For some Jewish creators, Jewish holidays are an explicit inspiration. Like many Jewish kids of the ‘80s and ‘90s, Max Fefer, a civil engineer by day and game designer by night, grew up loving the picture book “Herschel and the Hanukkah Goblins,” which remains a popular festive text. But as Fefer notes, goblins are often associated with antisemitic stereotypes. Fefer’s first Jewish game, Hanukkah Goblins, turns the story on its head — players interact as the jovial goblins, who are here not to destroy but to spread the spirit of Hanukkah to their goblin neighbors.
Last year, Fefer launched a successful Kickstarter for another Jewish holiday-inspired tabletop role-playing game, Esther and the Queens, where players assume the roles of Esther and her handmaidens from the Purim story, who join together to defeat Haman by infiltrating a masquerade party as queens from a far-off land.
Esther and the Queens channels Fefer’s Purim memories and includes carnival activities, including Skee-Ball; a calm, relaxing Mishloach Manot basket-making; and a fast-paced racing game.
“All of our holidays, they’re opportunities for us to gather as a community in different ways,” Fefer said. “Watching this satirical, comedic retelling of the story of Purim and the Esther Megillah and coming together into a theater, in a synagogue, to watch these spiels and laugh together and spin the graggers when we hear Haman’s name — all of those things help us build identity and community, and I think games in particular surrounding identity, that’s a great way for a Jewish person themselves to feel seen in a game and reinforce their identity, and share their background with friends.”
Another pair of Jewish game creators, Gabrielle Rabinowitz and her cousin, Ben Bisogno, were inspired by Passover.
“The seder is kind of like an RPG in that it’s a structured storytelling experience where everyone takes turns reading and telling, and there’s rituals and things you do at a certain time,” Rabinowitz said. “It’s halfway to an RPG.”
The game became a pandemic project for the two of them, and alongside artist Katrin Dirim and a host of other collaborators, they created Ma Nishtana: Why Is This Night Different? — a story game modeled on their family’s seder. The game follows the main beats of the Exodus story, and in every game, there will be a call to action from God, a moment of resistance, a departure and a final barrier — but different characters and moments resonate depending on the players’ choices.
As an educator at the Museum of Natural History, Rabinowitz said she is often thinking about how to foster participation and confidence, and she wanted to create a game-play mechanic to encourage players to be “as brazen as her family is.” The result was an in-game action called “Wait! Wait! Wait!” — if players wish to ask a question, make a suggestion, disagree with a course of action or share a new perspective, they can call out “Wait! Wait! Wait!” to do so.
The game also includes a series of scenes that are actively roleplayed or narrated, and each includes a ritual — one that can be done in-person or an alternate remote-friendly version. For example, at one point each player must come up with a plague inspired by the new story they’re telling together, and in the remote version, players go camera-off after reciting theirs.
“The fact that it was created during the pandemic and a way for us to connect and other people to connect with each other is really the soul of the game,” Rabinowitz said. “After each person tells a plague, by the end, all the cameras are off and everyone stays silent for another minute. It’s a hugely impactful moment when you’re playing remotely. The design is interwoven in the game itself.”
Rabinowitz said by playing a story of a family undergoing these trials, the themes of family and identity deepen every time she plays the game.
“A lot of people say, ‘Wow, I’ve never felt more connected to this story,’” she said. “Embodying these characters gave me a feeling of relevance and that makes it feel important as a Jewish precept.”
For other creators, that deep connection comes in more lighthearted scenarios. Nora Katz, a theatremaker, game designer and public historian working at the Goldring/Woldenberg Institute of Southern Jewish Life (ISJL) by day, created the Jewish deli-centered game Lunch Rush, which was included in the Doikayt anthology.
“There’s also types of institutions that come up a lot in [tabletop role-playing games], especially sort of high fantasy,” she said. “Everyone meets in a tavern, there’s an inn, things like that. So the idea of a deli as a central gathering place in a world like that felt fun to me.”
An important element of Lunch Rush is that players must be eating while playing, so for Katz’s first round with friends, they got together with chocolate chip ice cream and dill pickle potato chips. She said the deli is a shared language, and her fellow players were all bringing in their own favorite things about delis they loved into the fictional place they were building together.
Tabletop role-playing games “at their core are about collaboration and relationships and storytelling and community, and for me, all of those things are also what Jewishness is about, to me they totally go hand in hand,” Katz said.
The games are not meant to be for Jewish players only. Rabinowitz said the guidebook for Ma Nishtana includes essays to encourage people to further engage with the narrative.
“Jewish players, non-Jewish players, priests, non-religious people, all different people have played it and almost all of them have told us it’s given them a new way of thinking of how they relate to religious tradition, and I didn’t really set out to do that,” Rabinowitz said. “I feel really privileged to have helped create that space.”
Rabinowitz and Bisogno also commissioned other creators to build alternate backdrops for their game, so it can be repurposed to telling the story of another oppressed people’s fight for freedom. Players can interact as embattled yaoguai, spirits from Chinese mythology; explore a Janelle Monáe-inspired Afrofuturist world; play as Indigenous land defenders; or unionize as exploited workers at “E-Shypt.”
Fefer, who has been amplifying the work of other Jewish creators in the tabletop role-playing game space, said the harm of stereotyping and reinforcing negative tropes is still present in the industry, and not just for Jewish people. For example, fans recently criticized Dungeons & Dragons publishers Wizards of the Coast for reinforcing anti-Black stereotypes in the descriptions of a fantasy race, the Hadozee.
“I think it’s a process of talking to people who are from these groups and bringing them onto your teams and making sure you’re incorporating their perspectives into, in the example of Dungeons & Dragons, a hundred-million-dollar industry, being intentional about that design and looking at things from lots of different angles,” Fefer said. “How could our branding, our games be reinforcing something we’re not even aware of?”
Fefer hopes people who play Hanukkah Goblins and Esther and the Queens feel seen and have moments of shared joy, and also that they learn something from these games — about the antisemitic tropes in fantasy, or about underrepresented groups within the Jewish community. With Esther and the Queens, Fefer collaborated with a writer and artist, Noraa Kaplan, to retell the Purim story from a queer and feminist lens, drawing on Jewish texts that the pair said shows the long presence of queer and trans people in Jewish tradition.
“We have a lot of richness within Judaism to share our culture and share our upbringing but also just be representation,” Fefer added. “We’re living in a time of heightened antisemitism and the world being a gross place to be at times, and we can really bring the beauty of Judaism into game design and create experiences for people that are both representative of Judaism and also just very Jewish experiences.”
But for all the important conversations and learning experiences that can come from Jewish tabletop role-playing games, Katz said the goofiness and joy is important, too.
“We live in such a horrendous society that is of our own making,” she said. “If you can, for a little while, enjoy an anticapitalist fictional deli that you and your friends live in, I think that’s great.”
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The post With goblins, spellcasters and delis, board game makers are imagining new Jewish worlds appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Memoirs of a young female courier in Warsaw during the Holocaust
„הײַנט װעט זיכער עפּעס פֿאָרקומען.“ אַזױ רעדן צװישן זיך ייִדן, װאָס האָבן זיך צונױפֿגעזאַמלט אױף אַ ראָג גאַס אינעם װאַרשעװער געטאָ. אײנער פּרוּװט זײַן אָפּטימיסטיש: „ייִדן, שרעקט זיך נישט, איר װעט זען, מיט גאָטס הילף, װעלן מיר די נײַע גזירה אױך איבערקומען“. דאָס איז געװען דער 22טער יולי 1942, דער ערשטער טאָג פֿון דער „גרױסער דעפּאָרטאַציע“, װען די דײַטשן האָבן אַרױסגעפֿירט אַרום 250 טױזנט ייִדן אין די אומברענג־לאַגערן.
מיט דער סצענע עפֿנט װלאַדקע מיד איר בוך זכרונות „פֿון בײדע זײַטן געטאָ־מױער“ װעגן איר לעבן אין װאַרשע בעתן חורבן. לכתּחילה זײַנען זיי אַרױס אין המשכים אין „פֿאָרװערטס“ גלײַך נאָך איר אָנקומען קײן אַמעריקע אין 1946. אין 1948 איז דאָס בוך דערשינען בײַ דעם בילדונג־קאָמיטעט פֿון אַרבעטער־רינג. אין 1977 איז דאָס בוך אַרויס אױף ענגליש מיט אַ הקדמה פֿון אלי װיזעל. איצט איז פּובליקירט געוואָרן אַ פֿאַרברײטערטע אױפֿלאַגע באַגלײט מיט הקדמות פֿונעם היסטאָריקער שמואל קאַסאָװ און פֿונעם איבערזעצער, װלאַדקעס זון סטיװען (שלמה) מיד.
וולאַדקע מיד ברענגט דעם לײענער גלײַך אַרײַן אין דער אַטמאָספֿער פֿון האָפֿענונג, שרעק און ייִאוש וואָס האָט געהערשט אינעם װאַרשעװער געטאָ. זי לאָזט דעם לײענער הערן דעם מישמאַש פֿון שטימען פֿון ייִדן, דײַטשן און זײערע אוקראַיִנער מיטהעלפֿער, פֿון װעלכע עס שאַפֿט זיך די טראַגישע געשיכטע פֿון די לעצטע צען חדשים פֿונעם געטאָ.
צום גליק האָט זי אױסגעמיטן די טעגלעכע „אַקציִעס“, װען די „מונדירן“ — דער נאָמען פֿאַר דער ייִדישע פּאָליצײ אױפֿן געטאָ־לשון — האָבן געכאַפּט ייִדן פֿאַר די דעפּאָרטאַציעס. באַלד איז זי געבליבן אַלײן: „די מאַמע, ברודער און שװעסטער זײַנען אַװעקגעפֿירט [געוואָרן] אין דער פּײַנלעכער אומבאַװוּסטקײט“. װלאַדקע האָט אָבער געהאַט אַ גוטן מזל צו באַקומען אַן אַרבעט אין אײנעם פֿון די װאַרשטאַטן װאָס האָבן באַדינט די דײַטשן.
נאָך דער צװײטער „סעלעקציע“ אין סעפּטעמבער 1942 האָבן די געבליבענע ייִדן זיך גענומען צוגרײטן אַ װידערשטאַנד: „אױב שױן אומקומען, זאָל זײַן מיט װירדע, זאָל כאָטש דער שׂונא באַצאָלן אַ טײַערן פּרײַז פֿאַר אונדזער לעבן!“
יונגערהײט האָט װלאַדקע זיך באַטײליקט אינעם „ייִדישן אַרבעטער בונד“, און די דאָזיקע פֿאַרבינדונג האָט איר געהאָלפֿן בלײַבן לעבן בשעתן חורבן. חוץ דעם, האָט זי געהאַט אַ „גוטן אַרישן אױסזען“, גערעדט פּױליש אָן שום ייִדישן אַקצענט. די בונדיסטישע אונטערערדישע פֿירערשאַפֿט אינעם געטאָ האָט איר פֿאָרגעלײגט צו װערן אַ קוריער צװישן דעם געטאָ און דער אַרישער זײַט. אַזױ איז דאָס ייִדישע מײדל פֿײגעלע פּעלטעל געװאָרן אַ פּױלישע פֿרױ װלאַדיסלאַװאַ קאָװאַלסקאַ, בקיצור — װלאַדקע.
בהדרגה װערט זי אײַנגעגלידערט אינעם „נאָרמאַלן“ לעבן צװישן קריסטלעכע פּאָליאַקן. צוערשט איז זי געװען אָפּטימיסטיש: „איך האָב געװאָלט גלױבן, אַז בײַ די פּאָליאַקן איז דאָ אַ שטאַרקן אינטערעס צו העלפֿן זײערע באַקאַנטע ייִדן.“ אָבער באַלד האָט זי דערזען, אַז מען װיל גאָר ניט װיסן װעגן דעם, װאָס עס קומט פֿאָר אױף יענער זײַט געטאָ־מױער.
די אױפֿגאַבע פֿון װלאַדקע און אירע חבֿרים אױף דער אַרישער זײַט איז געװען צו קריגן געװער פֿאַרן געטאָ. קײן דערפֿאַרונג און קײן גוטע באַציִונגען מיט דער פּױלישער אונטערערדישער אַרמײ האָבן זײ אָבער ניט געהאַט: „גאַנצע טעג לױפֿט מען אַרום איבער דער שטאָט. מען זוכט און נישטערט. ממש צו יעדן באַקאַנטן פּאָליאַק, װאָס רופֿט נאָר אַרױס צו זיך אַ ביסל צוטרױ, הײבט מען גלײַך אָן צושטײן און בעטן: העלפֿט אונדז שאַפֿן געװער, מיר װעלן גוט באַצאָלן!“
אָבער לרובֿ באַקומען זײ קנאַפּע הילף. אָפֿט מאָל נעמט מען בײַ זײ געלט און גיט זײ גאָר נישט, אָדער, נאָך ערגער, מסרט מען זײ צו די דײַטשן. און אַפֿילו װען זיי קענען יאָ קריגן אַ רעװאָלװער, מוזן זײ געפֿינען אַן אופֿן, װי אַזױ אים אַרײַנצושמוגלען אינעם געטאָ.
דאָס בוך איז אַ געשפּאַנטע לעקטור. װלאַדקע מיד איז אַ באַגאַבטע דערצײלערין, װאָס דערקלערט פּרט נאָך פּרט אַלע אַספּעקטן פֿון איר געפֿערלעכער אַרבעט. יעדער טאָג קען זײַן דער לעצטער, װען מען װײסט ניט, צי מען װעט דערלעבן ביז אָװנט. זי האָט אַ סך מער מפּלות אײדער דערפֿאָלגן, און אין אַ סך פֿאַלן איז זי געראַטעװעט געװאָרן דורך אַ גליקלעכן צופֿאַל.
קאַסאָװס הקדמה באַשרײַבט דעם ברײטערן היסטאָרישן קאָנטעקסט פֿון יענער תּקופֿה, און מיד גיט צו פּערזענלעכע פּרטים װעגן זײַן מאַמעס לעבן פֿאַרן חורבן אױפֿן סמך פֿון אירע אינטערװיוען אין דער אַמעריקאַנער פּרעסע.
בײַם איבערזעצן האָט מיד אַרײַנגעשטעלט אין קלאַמערן קורצע דערקלערונגען, װאָס העלפֿן בעסער פֿאַרשטײן דעם קאָנטעקסט. ער האָט באַשלאָסן אָפּצוהיטן ייִדישע װערטער פֿון דער ספּעציפֿישער געטאָ־שפּראַך, אַזעלכע װי „אַקציע“, „מונדירן“, „בלאָקאַדע“. דאָס שאַפֿט דעם עפֿעקט פֿון עכטקײט, אָבער אין אײניקע פֿאַלן רופֿט די דאָזיקע סטראַטעגיע אַרויס פֿראַגעס: צוליב װאָס האָט ער „איבערגעזעצט“ דאָס װאָרט „קריסטין“ אינעם ייִדישן מקור ווי Shikse? בכּלל איז די איבערזעצונג זײער פֿרײַ און צו מאָל װײַט פֿונעם ייִדישן טעקסט.
אין אַמעריקע האָט װלאַדקע מיד געװידמעט איר לעבן דער חורבן־דערציִונג, און די נײַע אױפֿלאַגע פֿון איר בוך איז ממשיך דעם דאָזיקן שליחות. דאָס איז אַ װיכטיקער צוגאָב צו דער װאַקסנדיקער ביבליאָטעק פֿון דאָקומענטן און פֿאָרשונגען װעגן װאַרשעװער געטאָ. צום באַדויערן איז די געשיכטע פֿונעם ייִדישן װידערשטאַנד קעגן דער דײַטשישער אָקופּאַציע נאָך ניט געהעריק אײַנגעשלאָסן אינעם אַמעריקאַנער „האָלאָקאָסט עדוקײשן“, אַפֿילו אין ייִדישע טאָגשולן.
װען איך דערצײל למשל די געשיכטע פֿון װאַרשעװער געטאָ אין מײַן קורס פֿון דער ייִדישער קולטור־געשיכטע אין מזרח־אײראָפּע בײַם מישיגענער אוניװערסיטעט פֿרעגן אַ סך פֿון די סטודענטן: „פֿאַר װאָס האָט מען אונדז דאָס ניט דערצײלט אין אונדזערע קלאַסן װעגן דעם חורבן? דאָס איז אַזױ װיכטיק צו װיסן!“
עד־היום זעט מען אָפֿט מאָל די חורבן־געשיכטע דורך דעם שפּאַקטיװ פֿונעם מאַסנמאָרד. װלאַדקע מידס בוך אָבער, שרײַבט קאַסאָװ, „האָט דערװיזן, אַז איר קאַמף צו בלײַבן לעבן, אױף צו להכעיס אַלע שׂונאים, לייקנט אָפּ די סטערעאָטיפּישע טענה, אַז די ייִדן זײַנען פּאַסיװ געגאַנגען צו זײער אומקום.“
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5 more killed by Iranian missiles as shrapnel falls at Ben Gurion, curbing more flights
(JTA) — Five more people were killed overnight by Iranian missiles aimed at Israel: a man from Thailand in the country’s center, and four Palestinian women who had been preparing to break the Ramadan fast in their West Bank village. One was six months pregnant.
The deaths come as Iran has increasingly turned to cluster munitions, which break apart and shed smaller bombs along their path — making them much harder for Israel’s air defense systems to intercept.
Shrapnel from interceptions also fell at Ben Gurion Airport in recent days, damaging private planes and causing the airport authority to extend the cancelation of regular flights and limits on the number of people who can travel on “rescue flights” meant to allow travelers to leave and Israelis abroad to return. Several foreign carriers, including Delta and United, announced the cancellation of flights to and from Israel until at least June.
Nearly three weeks of fighting, launched jointly by the United States and Israel against Iran, have thrown the Middle East into turmoil and shocked the global economy. Under pressure over rising gas prices, U.S. President Donald Trump distanced himself early Thursday from an Israeli attack on an Iranian oil field, but in a post on Truth Social, he reserved the right to attack the site himself if Iran continued to target energy infrastructure elsewhere in the Middle East.
The developments come as questions mount about how long Israel can continue to intercept Iran’s ballistic missiles. Semafor reported this week that U.S. officials believe the Israelis are running low on interceptors, but Israeli authorities tamped down those concerns on Wednesday. A combination of increased use of cluster munitions and a shortage of interceptors would put Israelis at increased risk.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post 5 more killed by Iranian missiles as shrapnel falls at Ben Gurion, curbing more flights appeared first on The Forward.
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West Bloomfield Iraqi Christians rushed to aid Temple Israel on a terrifying day. An open invitation for Shabbat followed.
Last week’s attempted attack on Temple Israel in West Bloomfield, Michigan, prompted the Shenandoah Country Club across the street — which serves the town’s Iraqi Christian Chaldean community — to provide a refuge across cultural lines.
Staff turned a ballroom usually reserved for weddings into a reunification area. By the afternoon, 140 children from the Temple Israel day care center, who had no idea they were escaping a terror attack, were safe inside.
The next night, the same room filled again with refugees from Temple Israel. This time, the event space hosted 1,000 congregants gathered for Shabbat.
Shenandoah Country Club President Patrick Kattoo said when a staff member told him about a possible shooting across the street, “I instructed him to direct all those people into our building, into our ballroom, and immediately give them what they need.”
Kattoo proceeded to allow law enforcement to set up command centers at Shenandoah, as children and teachers sheltered in the ballroom for hours. Around 5 p.m., relieved families were reunited at the country club.
In true Iraqi fashion, Kattoo said the children were kept well fed. “It was Thursday, so our chef was here. We just brought them out chicken tenders and fries, M&Ms, waters, and drinks. There were infants here that were in diapers, and fortunately, we have diapers that we keep on hand.”
Once he arrived, Kattoo said Temple Israel community members were in “panic mode.” “There were just a lot of frightened children. And I’ll tell you one thing: Shenandoah will not stand to see frightened children.”
Around 40 more children and their teachers did not make it to the country club, and instead found safety in the home of a Chaldean neighbor.
Township Supervisor Jonathan Warshay recounted that Rabbi Paul Yedwab wondered, “you know, would he be holding funerals for these children? And then they learned where they were.”
Jewish community members expressed their deep gratitude for the Chaldean community.
Temple Israel rabbi Jason Bennett told the Forward, “They immediately sprang into action, everything from just giving us their space to baking cookies for the kids and creating an atmosphere where, at least for the children, it was safe and secure, and families could come and reconnect with their kids. It was a beautiful part of this tragic day to see children just shielded from everything.”
Some Temple Israel adults said that because of the bucolic environment at the country club, many of the children thought they had gone on a field trip.
Rabbi Bennett recounted hearing about one child recapping the day at bathtime: “The child said, ‘Well, I was so excited. I got to read a story, and then I did some art, and then I got to meet a police officer.’ That was her recounting, which is remarkable.”
‘It was really natural’
Chaldeans are Iraqi Christians who traditionally speak Aramaic, and Michigan has the largest population of Chaldeans outside of the Middle East.
The Chaldean community makes up 24% of West Bloomfield’s 65,000-person population. The Jewish and Chaldean communities have long shared a special relationship there, with joint youth programs, shared meals between community leaders, and parking lots often shared between Temple Israel and Shenandoah Country Club during large community events.
“Throughout my career, these last 32 years, they have been inextricably linked to the Jewish community,” said Bennett. He noted that in other difficult moments, the two communities have supported one another.
“We were together after 911 and supported each other. When Oct. 7 came, they came into our sanctuary, and their entire board was with us for our vigil service,” he recounted. “They brought a significant donation at that time to the Jewish community to help our emergency campaign for Israel. And so it was really natural when something like this happens, for them to be our partners.”
According to Chaldean community member Jibran Jim Manna, who was born in Baghdad, the love the Chaldean community has for Jews goes all the way back to Iraq. “Prior to us immigrating to the U.S., our neighbors were Jewish, and we loved them; they were good to us.”
He said the shared experience of being minorities forced to flee Iraq has shaped that bond. “They all had to get out of Iraq,” he said, “and we had to leave there too.” He added, “Some of us, like myself, think of ourselves as one of the lost tribes of Israel, because we are so close in culture.”
A Chaldean’s first Shabbat service
The day after the attempted attack, roughly 1,000 members of the Temple Israel community gathered in the Shenandoah Country Club ballroom for Shabbat services.
Kattoo said Temple Israel rabbis had told him on Thursday in the attack’s immediate aftermath that they had nowhere to hold services. The sanctuary had been badly damaged in the attack, in which the assailant’s vehicle had caught fire. “I said, ‘Well, our doors are open, you could do it here tomorrow,’” Kattoo recalled.
Bennett said that while Temple Israel had received multiple offers to host services, holding them at Shenandoah “felt like the natural fit, given the long-standing partnership and the role that they had played in that day.”
He added: “They set up for us, they welcomed people in, they partnered with police and law enforcement agencies, and we just had this magnificent gathering of 1,000 people to celebrate what had gone right.”
The rabbis were able to bring the “miraculously” recovered Torahs to the country club. But the temple’s prayer books had been destroyed, so the service was held without them.
The theme of the evening was honoring acts of heroism. According to Warshay, congregants “gave a standing ovation to the leaders of Shenandoah and to the security personnel.”
For Warshay, a highlight was seeing families together in the immediate aftermath of a traumatic event. “There were many families at the service, a lot of young children. We sort of heard them talking and playing around,” he said, adding, “It was quite emotional.”
Kattoo said as congregants entered the ballroom for services, he “greeted every single one of them,” then stayed as the community joined in prayer.
“I don’t speak Hebrew,” he said, laughing. “But you know, I thought it was a beautiful service. I learned something. It’s beautiful to see that they have their community gather every single week on a Friday. To me, it’s unbelievable. It’s my first Shabbat service I’ve ever seen in my life.” He added, “I kind of wish we did that once a week.”
According to Kattoo, the outpouring of thanks from the Jewish community has been overwhelming. “Their gratitude was beyond what I could expect.”
While Temple Israel is in the process of moving services to the Berman Theater at the local JCC, Kattoo said his offer to host Shabbat services still stands: “If the banquet hall is available, I’ve told them it’s more than theirs.”
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