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Bosnian Jews mourn Moris Albahari, one of Sarajevo’s last Ladino speakers
(JTA) — Moris Albahari, a Holocaust survivor, former partisan fighter and one of the last Ladino speakers in Bosnia and Herzegovina’s dwindling Jewish community, passed away at the age of 93 last month.
It is believed that he was one of four native Ladino speakers remaining in a country where the Judeo-Spanish language once flourished and was spoken by luminaries like Flory Jagoda, the grande dame of Ladino song, and Laura Bohoretta, the founder of a uniquely Sephardic feminist movement in Bosnia.
Bosnia’s small Jewish community — with barely 900 members throughout the country, 500 of whom live in Sarajevo — are mourning the loss of a living link to communal memory as well as a dear friend.
“From you, uncle Moco, I learned a lot about Judaism, about life, about nature and especially about people. About both the good and the evil,” Igor Kožemjakin, the cantor of the Sarajevo Jewish community, wrote in a memorial post on Facebook, referring to Moris as “Čika,” or uncle, a term of endearment in Bosnian.
“It is a terrible loss, especially for Sarajevo. Our community is very small, especially after the Holocaust,” Eliezer Papo, a Sarajevo-born Jew and scholar of Ladino language and literature at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “We’re not speaking just in terms of prominent members of the community, we’re speaking in terms of family members. Everyone is like a family member.”
When Albahari was growing up in the 1930s, the Jewish community of his native Sarajevo numbered over 12,000. Jews made up more than a fifth of the city and it was one of the most important centers of Jewish life in the western Balkans.
In his youth, the city was part of what was then the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. Formed out of the borderlands between the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires, it was a multiethnic state composed of Croats, Serbs, Bosniaks, Slovenians, Macedonians, Hungarians, Albanians and more. Among them were many Jewish communities both Ashkenazi and Sephardic.
The unique mix of of Muslim, Jewish, Catholic and Orthodox Christian communities, with their mosques, synagogues and churches defining Sarajevo’s skyline, earned the city the nickname “Little Jerusalem.”
Speaking in a 2015 documentary made by American researchers, “Saved by Language,” Albahari explained that his family traced their roots back to Cordoba before the Spanish Inquisition, and through Venice, before settling in what would become Bosnia when it was part of the Ottoman Empire.
“We didn’t want to ‘just’ write an article about Moris or Sarajevo; we wanted [the audience] to see what we saw and hear what we heard,” Brian Kirschen, professor of Ladino at Binghamton University, who worked on the documentary with author Susanna Zaraysky, told JTA. “This resulted in a grassroots initiative to create the documentary.”
In the film, Albahari takes the researchers and their viewers on a tour through what was Jewish Sarajevo, giving glimpses of the thriving Ladino speaking community in which he was raised and explaining how ithe language would save him many times, when the Nazis and their Croat allies, the Ustaša, came to shatter it.
“In sharing your story of survival during the Holocaust, you opened doors that remained closed for decades,” Kirschen said in a memorial post on Facebook. “Some of your stories were even new to members of your family, but each survivor has their own timeline. While you experienced great pain during your life, from your story, we also learn about moments of kindness and heroism. Through your story, you also taught us about the power of language.”
Albahari wasn’t yet a teenager when, in 1941, Nazi Germany and Mussolini’s Italy invaded Yugoslavia. The Nazis occupied the eastern portion of the country, including what is now Serbia, while they raised up a Croat fascist party, known as the Ustaša, to administer the newly formed “Independent State of Croatia” — often known by its Serbo-Croatian initials, NDH — in the western regions that included the modern-day Bosnia and Herzegovina.
The Ustaša collaborated in the Nazis’ genocidal plans for Europe’s Jewish and Roma comunities, and they had genocidal designs of their own for the Orthodox Serb communities living in the NDH.
To that end they established the Jasenovac concentration camp, which would become known as the Auschwitz of the Balkans. By the war’s end it had become the third largest concentration camp in Europe, and behind its walls the overwhelming majority of Sarajevo’s Jews — at least 10,000 — were massacred. Including Serbs, Jews, Roma and political dissidents of Croat or Muslim Bosniak background, as many as 100,000 people were killed in Jasenovac.
Albahari was 11 years old when the Ustaša came to deport him and his large family to Jasenovac. A former teacher working as an Ustaša guard in the town of Drvar, where the train stopped, warned Albahari’s father, David, about their destination, and he was able to help his son escape from the train.
The teacher helped guide the young Moris to an Italian soldier named Lino Marchione who was secretly helping Jews.
This was the first case when Albahari’s Ladino came in handy. Ladino is largely based on medieval Spanish, with a mixture of Hebrew, Aramaic, Turkish and other languages mixed in. For speakers of Serbo-Croatian, a Slavic language, it’s entirely incomprehensible. But for a speaker of another Romance language such as Italian, it’s not such a stretch to understand, and Moris was able to converse with his Italian savior.
With his family gone, he was taken in by a Serb family, and changed his name to Milan Adamovic to hide his Jewish identity. Still, by 1942, it became clear that neither as Adamovic nor Albahari would he be safe in the town. So he fled to the mountains.
“If there was [a battle] I took clothes from a dead soldier to wear, I lived like a wolf in the mountains, you know. Visiting villages [asking for something] to give me for eating, it was a terrible time,” Albahari recalled in “Saved By Language.”
He would only feel safe in villages under the control of partisan forces. Yugoslavia was the only country in Europe to be liberated from Nazi rule by its own grassroots resistance.
During his time in the mountains, Albahari joined up with a partisan unit aligned with the movement of Josip Broz Tito, who would lead Communist Yugoslavia after the war. By the war’s end, Tito’s partisans numbered over 80,000 and included more than 6,000 Jews, many in prominent positions, such as Moša Pijade, who would go on to serve as vice president of the Yugoslav parliament after the war.
Moris was out on patrol as a partisan when he came upon a group of American and British paratroopers. They raised their weapons at him, thinking he was an enemy. Moris tried to communicate, but he spoke no English.
When he asked the soldiers if they spoke German or Italian, they shook their heads. When he asked about Spanish, one perked up: a Hispanic-American soldier by the name of David Garijo.
In Ladino, Alabahari was able to explain that he was not an enemy but could lead them to a nearby partisan camp where they would be safe.
“Ladino saved my life in the war,” Albahari recalled in the documentary.
At the partisan camp, Morris received even bigger news: The family that he had assumed had all perished after he left the train were in fact alive. The former school teacher and Ustaša guard who had warned his father had met them at the next train junction to help them escape. Furthermore, around half of the Jews in the train car were able to escape using the same hole Moris used during his initial escape.
Ultimately the family all survived the war, unlike so many other Jews of Sarajevo.
“Where is Samuel, where is Dudo, where is Gedala? They never came back,” Albahari lamented, listing missing neighbors while walking through Sarajevo’s old Jewish neighborhood in the documentary. “Maybe we are happy because we are alive after the Second World War, but also unlikely because every day we must cry for these dead people.”
When Moris returned to Sarajevo, it was an entirely different place from the bustling Jewish community he had once known.
Gone was the sound of Ladino in the streets and alleyways of Bascarsija, the market district where so many of Sarajevo’s Jews had once lived. Gone were the synagogues — only one of the many synagogues that had existed before WWII still functions. Gone was the robust Jewish life that was once a central part of Sarajevo.
Moris was still only 14 by the war’s end, so he returned to school and ultimately graduated at the top of his class. He became a pilot and later director of the Sarajevo Airport.
In this new world, Ladino was spoken, if at all, only in the home.
“Always, when I hear Spanish, I hear my father and mother, and all the synagogues, prayers in Ladino and rabbis who spoke Ladino. But that is in the past,” Albahari says in “Saved by Language.”
Eliezer Papo, who is a generation younger than Albahari, recalled that in his youth Ladino had long been reduced to a language of secrets.
“Mostly, Ladino was used when the elders didn’t want youngsters to understand,” Papo said.
Only later, in the 1980s, did community members realize what was being lost and begin to gather to maintain their language, recount what Jewish Sarajevo had been like and share their wartime stories of survival.
“He never took his story to the places of revenge, but he took it and his life experience to a place of ‘Never again,’ not just ‘Never again for Jews’, but never again for anybody,” said Papo.
Like many Sarajevans, World War II would not be the last major conflict Albahari would see. Less than 40 years later, war would once again come to Sarajevo with the break-up of Yugoslavia.
From 1992-1995 the city remained under constant siege by Bosnian Serb forces looking to break away from what would become Bosnia and Herzegovina. Moris joined with other Jews of Sarajevo in working to provide aid to their fellow Sarajevans during the harsh period.
Sarajevo’s synagogue was turned into a shelter and a soup kitchen. The community ran a network of underground pharmacies and a message service allowing Sarajevans to get word to family and friends outside of the city during what became the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern warfare.
“Moris was an inspirational persona to many members of Jewish community and La Benevolencija,” Vlado Anderle, the current president of that local Jewish humanitarian organization told JTA. “He was a man with such inviting spirit and energy.”
When the dust settled on the breakup of Yugoslavia, and the new Bosnian state rose from its ashes, Moris found himself once again in a new role.
During the communist era in Yugoslavia, religious activity was discouraged. Sarajevo’s Jews emphasized the ethnic character of Jewish culture rather than the religious one. In the new Bosnia and Herzegovina, that was no longer true. So the community worked to reconnect with their religious identity as well.
“Everybody looked up to the people who had Jewish upbringing before the Second World War,” Papo recalled. “This doesn’t mean that they were rabbis. Just that they knew it better than anyone else.”
Moris, whose formal Jewish education ended in his preteen years, was appointed president of the community’s religious committee.
As such it often fell on him to represent Judaism to the Bosnian society at large, often in a very creative way, according to Papo, who in addition to being a scholar of Ladino is ordained as a rabbi and serves the Sarajevo community as a rabbi-at-large from Israel.
In one case, while being interviewed on a major Bosnian television station, Moris was asked why Jews cover their head with a kippah or other hat during prayer. Moris’ response, or rather creative interpretation, as Papo called it, was made up on the spot.
Moris’ interpretation began with the ancient temple in Jerusalem where Jews once had to fully immerse in a ritual bath before entering.
“Since the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed it was reduced to washing the uncovered parts of the body only, before entering a synagogue, similarly to Muslims: the feet, the head, the hands…” Papo recalled him saying. But in Europe, as Moris’ answer went, they began to cover more and more of their body. “In Europe they started wearing shoes, so the feet were not uncovered anymore, and then they started wearing a hat, not to have to wash their head… you know it’s Europe, one could catch a cold if going out with wet hair…”
“A few months later, I came to Sarajevo, and found that everyone has heard this explanation and is talking about it, not just people in the community, but in the street,” Papo said. “And you know, I let it pass, I couldn’t correct them, it was just so beautiful. That was his genius.”
“Identity is all about telling stories. And Moris was one of the great storytellers of the community,” Papo added. And through his stories he expressed an identity which was “made of the same contradictions that Sephardic Judaism is made of, that Sarajevo is made of, that Bosnia and Herzegovina is made and that Yugoslavia was and is made of and that the Balkans are made of.”
Albahari is survived by his wife and a son.
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Epstein and Iran are an antisemitism mega-crisis. Here’s what Jewish organizations should do about it.
So far, 2026 has been a banner year for antisemites.
All hateful ideologies have slivers of truth within them; that’s why they work, moving from partial truth to wild exaggeration to scapegoating all members of the group for the perceived sins of some of them. Which is why 2026 has been a bonanza.
First, the release of the Epstein Files revealed a massive network of rich, connected elites — disproportionately Jewish and connected to Israel — who, at the very least, socialized and worked with a convicted sex offender, and in some cases may even have participated in his crimes. .
Then, Israel’s prime minister lobbied a U.S. president in the Situation Room (completely unprecedented), persuading him to launch a rash, costly, bloody, and thus far unsuccessful war on Iran, in violation of everything “America First” was supposed to stand for.
Worse, for some on the internet, those two stories are connected. The conspiratorial compulsion to manufacture facts to fit the larger theory leads to a fictional storyline: Epstein was working for Israel, Epstein handed the Israelis kompromat, Israel is blackmailing Trump, Israeli interests are dictating American foreign policy, and only Iran and China are standing up to the ‘Epstein Government.’
To be clear, there is no evidence for this hyperbole and speculation, which moves beyond valid critique of Israel into antisemitic conspiracy-mongering. Donald Trump has been pushing for war on Iran for 40 years, he wanted to push the Epstein Files out of the news, Epstein was working for himself not the Mossad, and there are some geopolitical reasons why some people might’ve seen this war as a good idea. Nor do Benjamin Netanyahu’s lobbying or AIPAC’s influence in Congress, however nefarious one may believe their intentions to be, amount to a Zionist conspiracy. The tech industry, the Christian Right, the fossil fuel industry, Big Pharma, Wall Street and other groups exert equal degrees of influence, often for equally nefarious ends.
But there is at least some basis for these false claims, and online influencers are connecting the dots. And whatever I may write in this article, it will be read by around .001% of the people who’ve seen China’s “White Eagle” videos or Iran’s “Lego” videos, which have gone viral online and amassed tens of millions of views, not to mention interviews by Joe Rogan or Tucker Carlson. Sometimes these commentaries cross into overt antisemitism, sometimes they ‘merely’ allege a sinister conspiracy of Zionists or Epstein Associates to control the United States. Sometimes they’re from the Right, sometimes from the Left, and sometimes they horseshoe together. But this combination of real-world events and motivated propaganda is now a five-alarm fire, Defcon-1 crisis.
This crisis demands a response. But so far at least, what we’ve heard from the Jewish Establishment has been… crickets.
Unbelievably, the ADL’s website is focused on its “Best Schools in Antisemitism Report Card,” as the organization still obsesses over campus activists and professors instead of addressing the explosion in antisemitism since the Epstein Files release and Iran war, largely from networks of right-wing antisemites in government and online.
And, to my knowledge, no major Jewish organization has put out a statement in response to the Epstein Files, and the avalanche of revelations they have contained about his social and business relationships with Jewish figures and organizations, particularly in the years after his 2008 conviction in Florida for procuring sexual massages from a teenager. Indeed, files released last January revealed that prosecutors had prepared a much more significant indictment against Epstein, charging him with abusing more than a dozen girls over a period of six years, but set it aside when Epstein pled to lesser state charges.
(The Wexner Foundation, whose patron Les Wexner was Epstein’s leading client for two decades and who one witness claimed was a participant in his sexual parties, wrote a letter to its alumni following Wexner’s evasive congressional testimony saying that, at present, “we are only listening. We will sit in a posture of taking in your feelings and feedback.”)
However much the people in Epstein’s orbit did or did not know, or did or did not do, they must be brought to account. Yet there has been no reckoning, no accountability, hardly any response at all from the Jewish mainstream.
This has been a profound moral failure. In the words of Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg, who has spoken out forcefully on the issue, “That there has been overwhelming silence since the release of era-defining information on the theft and raping of children — including not only the nation’s most powerful leaders, but Jews who routinely gave prestigious talks in our community — is a moral desecration and abdication of duty. Our sacred obligations require us to show up unequivocally for those harmed — especially children! — and to condemn all sexual abuse and violence. I do not know why this might ever seem complicated.”
The silence has also fanned the flames of antisemitism, especially because, as a Jewish Studies colleague put it to me, antisemitism thrives on the claim that you aren’t supposed to talk about when Jews in powerful positions act wrongly.
Now, if you’re of the opinion that antisemitism is a mysterious, baseless hatred that has always existed and always will exist, maybe you don’t think this news matters much. Today they hate us for Epstein and Iran, tomorrow will be something else.
But that view is dead wrong.
First, it flies in the face of the data that shows massive increases in antisemitism in the wake of Trump’s nationalism, and, later, the Gaza war. The hatred underlying antisemitism may be timeless, but it is fueled by the times. It is not a binary; it rises and falls and rises again.
Second, the Judeo-Pessimistic view ignores how antisemitism feeds off of conspiracy theories, political ideologies and resentment. The “Jews will not replace us” chant did not come from nowhere; it came from the nationalist right’s Great Replacement Theory. And the recent explosion in attacks on American Jews came as a response to the Gaza War; just as innocent German Americans and Japanese Americans were scapegoated during World War II, innocent Jewish Americans are scapegoated today.
Nothing Jewish leaders say or do will eradicate antisemitism. And preschoolers at a Michigan synagogue are not in any way responsible for the crimes of Epstein or the machinations of Netanyahu. Any time Jews are scapegoated and targeted for the perceived misdeeds of others, that is antisemitic, full stop. But, to paraphrase the Yom Kippur liturgy, we can mitigate the severity of the decree.
What might that look like? Let’s look at Epstein first, Iran second.
First, we need a real, public reckoning with the Epstein Files and the long relationships Epstein had with notable and/or rich American Jews (Wexner, Larry Summers, Howard Lutnick, Leon Black, Alan Dershowitz, Woody Allen, Ehud Barak, Robert Maxwell, Leon Botstein, and, most notably for antisemites, Lynn Forester and Ariane de Rothschild), and his support of Jewish and Jewish-adjacent institutions (including Ramaz, Hillel International, Harvard Hillel, YIVO, the Jewish National Fund, Mount Sinai Hospital, UJA-Federation of New York, Seeds of Peace, Touro College, Friends of the IDF, American Jewish Committee, and several Orthodox yeshivas).
This isn’t about outing or shaming; individuals or organizations who dealt with Epstein before 2008 can honestly claim they had no knowledge of his criminal behavior. Rather, it is about public, communal teshuvah, recognizing that our community institutions failed, our ethical values failed, and some of our wealthiest members failed as well. We did not protect the vulnerable (Exodus 22:21, Leviticus 19:16), judge rich and poor alike (Deuteronomy 1:17, Leviticus 19:15), or treat all people as made in the image of the Divine (Genesis 1:27).
These should not be mere performative statements. We should act, as a community, to repair what is broken – first and foremost by listening to Epstein’s victims, financially compensating them, and sharing their stories. There should be a community-wide campaign to fund organizations that combat sexual abuse and domestic violence, and help victims recover. (Examples include Za’akah, Shalom Bayit, as well as initiatives at Mount Sinai and many Jewish federations.) And our organizations should also use this moment to revisit their own politics on preventing misconduct and abuse. There should be strong words and even stronger actions.
Regarding the Iran War, the problem runs deeper.
A large majority of American Jews oppose the Iran War, just as they opposed Israel’s actions in Gaza. Yet individuals and organizations that publicly take such positions are marginalized in the Jewish community, and are often banned or shadow-banned from Jewish gatherings and religious institutions. (For example, 70% of American Jews oppose unconditional aid to Israel, but AIPAC targeted a pro-Israel congressional candidate for taking that view, leading to an anti-Israel opponent being swept into office.) We like to say that our community tolerates a wide range of views, but our institutional rhetoric of “standing with Israel” and a quick glance at the speaker list of any mainstream Jewish gathering makes it clear that some views are more favored than others.
Meanwhile, Netanyahu and Trump say, repeatedly, that anyone opposing the Israeli government’s policies (let alone the state itself) is a self-hating Jew, a traitor, or an antisemite. They are the antisemites’ best partners, insisting that there is no daylight between Israel’s actions and American Jews. That you’re either for us or against us.
We need the opposite of such false binaries and false equations. We need space for legitimate criticism, precisely so that illegitimate antisemitism can be recognized and called out. It’s not always easy to do so: The Nexus Project, which works to disentangle antisemitism and valid critique of Israel, has produced a helpful three-page guide to doing so in the context of the Iran War, in which the difference is often one of degree, rather than kind.
For example, it is indeed outrageous that Netanyahu pitched this war in the way he did to our increasingly demented-seeming president. One doesn’t need to resort to conspiracy-mongering to note that. Was this war ever in the American national interest? Did anyone really think the Iranian people would rise up against their government after America blew their cities to smithereens? All these are valid questions. Yet often they are posed in terms of antisemitic imagery depicting Jews, or Israel, as a giant puppetmaster or octopus manipulating world affairs. By validating legitimate criticisms, we can better call out illegitimate ones.
Honestly, I’ve long ago given up on most large Jewish organizations making space for diversity of opinion, because their donors tilt to the right, a structural reality I wrote about in this publication 10 years ago.
So my call, instead, is to Jewish centrists, moderates and progressives. If you want a Jewish community that reflects your Jewish values, you need to pay for one: You need to donate at the same levels as right-wing donors do. You need to take back the mainstream Jewish community by spending money and dictating your priorities.
To repeat, these efforts won’t end the scourge of antisemitism; there is no use arguing with bigots. But the bigots are not our audience — rather, the point is to combat the narratives that are persuading more and more people to join their ranks. By standing up for our values, we can put some space between Jeffrey Epstein (and his accomplices) and the Jewish community as a whole. And we can differentiate between legitimate criticism of Israeli policies and antisemitic conspiracy theories based on them. We can stand up to the lies about Jews that are spreading like wildfire right now — by proudly and forcefully telling the truth.
The post Epstein and Iran are an antisemitism mega-crisis. Here’s what Jewish organizations should do about it. appeared first on The Forward.
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In major shift, all but 7 Senate Democrats vote to block weapons sales to Israel
(JTA) — A record number of Senate Democrats voted on Wednesday to block the sales of certain weapons to Israel, marking a sharp rise in the number of senators backing the move.
Wednesday was the third time in as many years that the Senate voted on resolutions to limit weapons sales to Israel, introduced and promoted by the Vermont independent and progressive leader Bernie Sanders.
In 2024, 19 Democrats voted for at least one of the “Block the Bombs” resolutions on the table at the time. Last year, 24 senators endorsed the move.
Now, 40 senators — all but seven Democrats — voted for at least one of the two resolutions they faced on Wednesday, more than doubling the support in two years. The new backers include several Jewish moderates who describe themselves as pro-Israel as well as multiple senators who are seen as likely 2028 presidential candidates.
“I have struggled with these Joint Resolutions of Disapproval as much as any vote since I joined Congress,” said Sen. Elissa Slotkin, a moderate from Michigan, in a statement calling the issue of support for Israel “raw, painful and personal.”
“My entire life, I have been — and continue to be — a strong supporter of a Jewish and democratic State of Israel. The people of Israel, like all people throughout the region, deserve long-term security and peace,” Slotkin said. “But being pro-Israel today is not about simply supporting the political or military agenda of Prime Minister Netanyahu, just like being pro-American should not be equated with loyalty to President Trump.”
All three measures fell short in the Republican-led Senate. Still, the vote on the weapons sales resolution in particular offered a powerful demonstration of shifting sentiment in the party about Israel. A survey released this week found that 80% of Democratic voters hold an unfavorable view of Israel, up sharply over the last three years. The findings correlate with a growing number of polls showing rising opposition to Israel in both parties, with a steeper rise among Democrats.
In addition to Slotkin, three other Jewish senators newly voted for the resolutions: Adam Schiff of California, Ron Wyden of Oregon and Jon Ossoff of Georgia.
Mark Kelly of Arizona, who is seen as a likely presidential contender and is married to the Jewish former congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, said in a speech on the Senate floor that he “cannot and will never abandon Israel” but was voting to stop the weapons transfers because he opposes “the reckless decisions being made by Prime Minister Netanyahu and President Trump.”
Along with Kelly, Ossoff and Slotkin, two other possible presidential candidates also newly voted against weapons sales to Israel: Cory Booker of New Jersey and Ruben Gallego of Arizona. (Both have Jewish family members.)
Senate Democrats also voted as a bloc to restrict President Donald Trump’s ability to continue the war against Iran, which he launched jointly with Israel in February without congressional approval. Trump entered a ceasefire last week without achieving the varying goals he had outlined.
The weapons resolutions would have blocked the sale of D-9 bulldozers, widely used in military operations, and 1,000-bombs to Israel, while not affecting the sale of smaller and defensive munitions. Four senators who voted to block the bulldozer sales voted not to block the bomb sales.
Jewish critics of the war and the Israeli government applauded the votes.
“It’s encouraging to see a growing number of senators recognize that unconditional US military support for Israel is no longer tenable in light of the Netanyahu government’s policies,” Jeremy Ben-Ami, president of J Street, which this week came out against U.S. support for Israel’s defensive systems for the first time.
Morriah Kaplan, executive director of the progressive group IfNotNow, said the vote represented “a powerful step toward shared safety” in the Middle East and a bellwether of change in the United States.
“Establishment Jewish institutions will spend the next week writing angry letters to the Senators who voted ‘yes’ and trying to convince U.S. Jews that these politicians are putting our community in danger,” Kaplan said. “But our community is no longer falling for the disastrous lie that our safety will come through bombs, bulldozers, walls, or repression.”
There was little sign of immediate public condemnation by the Jewish groups that historically have taken aim at lawmakers who vote against support for Israel. Following the votes, the American Jewish Committee tweeted only, “Thank you to the Senators who continue to stand by Israel as it continues to face ongoing terror threats on multiple fronts.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post In major shift, all but 7 Senate Democrats vote to block weapons sales to Israel appeared first on The Forward.
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On Yom Haatzmaut — a tribute to the mallow plant
במשך פֿון דער זעקס-וואָכיקער מלחמה מיט איראַן, וואָס האָט זיך געענדיקט מיט אַ פֿײַער־שטילשטאַנד דעם 8טן אַפּריל, זײַנען מיר, ישׂראלים, און בפֿרט די אײַנוווינערס פון תּל-אָבֿיבֿ, געבליבן נאָענט צו דער היים צוליב די סכּנה פֿון דערווײַטערן זיך פֿון אַ שוץ-קעלער. די צאָרן און דער צער זײַנען געוואַקסן פון טאָג צו טאָג: ס׳איז מיר קלאָר געווען אַז דאָס איז אַ געפֿערלעכער שפּיל מיט פֿײַער, אַן איבעריקע מלחמה, און מיר — און די אײַנוויינערס פֿון איראַן — וועלן באַצאָלן דעם פּרײַז. (אונדזער דירה איז טאַקע אַ ביסל צעשעדיקט געוואָרן אין איינער פֿון די באָמבאַרדירונגען). דערפֿאַר קאָנט איר זיך פֿאָרשטלען מיט וואָס פֿאַר אַ פֿרייד האָב איך אָנגענומען דעם פֿײַער-איבעררײַס; תּיכף נאָך דעם בין איך טאַקע אַרויסגעגאַנגען פֿון דער שטאָט, און גלײַך אין דער נאַטור.
און עס איז ווי געשען אַ נס: די נאַטור האָט זיך מכּלומרשט אָפּגעשטעלט אין דער צײַט פֿון דער קריג. דער פֿרילינג, וואָס ענדיקט זיך דאָ בדרך-כּלל פֿאַר פּסח, האָט דאָס מאָל געוואַרט אויף אונדז, זײַנע פֿאַרערערס. כּמעט די גאַנצע צײַט פֿון דער קריג איז געווען ווינטערדיק, מיט אַ סך רעגנס, און איצט, סוף חודש ניסן, איז נאָך אַלץ געבליבן גרין, פֿול מיט בלומען און געוויקסן — אַ זעלטנקייט.
צווישן די פֿאַרשיידענע בלומען און געוויקסן האָב איך באַמערקט אַז אויך די מאַלווע, וואָס אויף העברעיִש הייסט עס חוביזה, בליט נאָך מיט אירע חנעוודיקע וויאָלעטע בלומען. די בלומען בליִען, די קליינע פֿרוכטן זײַנען רייף, און די בלעטער זײַנען נאָך גרין.
די מאַלווע וואַקסט אין אַפֿריקע, אַזיע און אייראָפּע, און ישׂראל בתוכם. בדרך-כּלל שפּראָצן די ערשטע בלעטער פֿון דער מאַלווע אַרויס נאָך די ערשטע רעגנס פֿון ווינטער — אַרום דעצעמבער. זי וואַקסט פֿון זיך אַליין אין דער נאַטור, אָבער אויך אין די שטעט, אין די הויפֿן און אין נאָכגעלאָזטע גערטנער. אין פֿאַרגלײַך מיט די רקפֿות (ציקלאַמען), למשל, אָדער אַנדערע איידעלע בלומען, איז זי נישט קיין מפֿונק, און וואַקסט אומעטום.
די בלעטער קאָן מען עסן פֿריש, אָדער געקאָכטע צי געפּרעגלטע (ווײַטער אונטן וועט איר געפֿינען אַ רעצעפּט דערפֿאַר). עס איז אַ ביסל שלײַמיק; איר טעם דערמאָנט אין שפּינאַט, און זי האָט אַ סך געזונטע קוואַליטעטן. אין די פֿריסטע סטאַדיעס איז די מאַלווע גאָר נידעריק, אָבער אַרום פֿעברואַר דערגרייט זי ביז דער הייך פֿון אַ מענטשן. אַרום מערץ באַווײַזן זיך שוין די שיינע בלומען פֿון דער מאַלווע און דערצו די רונדיקע קליינע פּירות, וואָס קינדווײַז האָבן מיר אַלע געגעסן מיט הנאה.
די מאַלווע וואַקסט טאַקע ווילד, אָבער זי איז נישט סתּם קיין פּראָסטע געוויקס. קודם-כּל, איר נאָמען אַליין: דאָס וואָרט „חוביזה“ איז אַן אַראַבישער טערמין, כובעזאַ. אויף אַראַביש הייסט עס „אַ קליין ברויט“ („כובז“ איז ברויט), און טאַקע, אויך אין עבֿרית רופֿט מען עס אַמאָל „לחם ערבֿי“ (אַראַביש ברויט). עס האָט אייגנטלעך אַן אָפֿיציעלן נאָמען: „חלמית“ (לויט דער משנה כלאיים ח, א), און דערצו אַ וויסנשאַפֿטלעכן נאָמען: malva. אויף ענגליש הייסט עס Mallow. אָבער אַ חוץ אַ קליינער צאָל מומחים, רופֿט קיינער דאָ עס נישט אַנדערש ווי כובעזאַ.
צוליב איר ברייטהאַרציקער מנהג צו וואַקסן אומעטום, האָט מען באַנוצט די כובעזאַ, מאַלווע, אויך אין דער צײַט פֿונעם „מצור“, די בלאָקאַדע פֿון ירושלים אין יאָר 1948. אין די ווינטער־חדשים וואָס ירושלים איז געשטאַנען איבערגעריסן פֿונעם ייִשובֿ, האָבן די ירושלימער באַלאַבאָסטעס אָפּגעריסן די מאַלווע־בלעטער און געמאַכט פֿון זיי פֿאַרשיידענע מאכלים, בפֿרט קאָטלעטן. לזכר דעם האָט מען שפּעטער, אין די פֿופֿציקער יאָרן, פֿאָרגעשלאָגן אַז מע וועט דערלאַנגען די באַרימטע קאָטלעטן לכּבֿוד יום־העצמאות (דעם אומאָפּהענגיקייט-טאָג). אָט למשל האָט דער דערציִונג-מיניסטעריום אין 1955 פֿאָרגעלייגט אַן אָפֿיציעלער יום-טובֿדיקער מעניו: כובעזאַ-קאָטלעטן אין פּאָמידאָרן ראָסל, סאַלאַט-כובעזאַ אין טחינה, יויך מיט קרעפּלעך, „שבֿעת המינים“-טאָרט אאַז״וו. אַזאַ מעניו קאָן מען געפֿינען אויך אין דעם פּאָפּולערן קאָכבוך „365 שולחנות ערוכים“ (365 געדעקטע טיש), וואָס איז אַרויס אין 1961, און וואָס מײַן מאַמע האָט געהאַלטן כּמעט ווי אַ שולחן-ערוך.
טאַקע אַ שיינער אײַנפֿאַל — עסן כובעזאַ-קאָטלעטן לכּבֿוד יום־העצמאות — נאָר איין חיסרון האָט עס. ווי געזאָגט, וואַקסט די מאַלווע ווינטערצײַט, און אַ חוץ הײַיאָר, און נאָך זעלטענע יאָרן, זײַנען די בלעטער אין דער צײַט פֿון יום־העצמאות שוין אויסגעטריקנט, אָדער די אינסעקטן (וואָס האָבן אויך ליב כובעזאַ) האָבן זיי שוין אויפֿגעפֿרעסן. דערפֿאַר קאָן מען נישט פֿאַקטיש גרייטן די כובעזאַ-קאָטלעטן אָנהייב מײַ, ווען עס פֿאַלט בדרך-כּלל אויס יום־העצמאות.
מע דאַרף זיך מודה זײַן אַז בכּלל, מיט די יאָרן, האָט מען אַ ביסל גרינגעשעצט אָט די „לחם עוני“, די אָרעמע מאַלווע/כובעזאַ. ישׂראל איז געוואָרן רײַכער, און אין יום־העצמאות האָט מען אָנגעהויבן עסן דער עיקר פֿלייש „על האש“ – דאָס הייסט באַרבעקיו. אין די לעצטע יאָרן, נאָך דער „יורידישע רעוואָלוציע“ פֿון יאָר 2022, און בפֿרט נאָך דעם 7טן אָקטאָבער 2023 און די בלוטיקע מלחמות זינט דעמאָלט, האָבן אַ סך ישׂראלים בכּלל פֿאַרלוירן דעם אַפּעטיט צו יום־העצמאות. ווי עס שטייט אין קהלת: „לשׂמחה מה זו עושה“ (אויף לוסטיקייט — וואָס טוט זי אויף?). די פֿײַערונגען פֿון די לעצטע אומאָפּהענגיקייט-טעג האָבן עפּעס אַ ביטערן נאָך־טעם.
אָבער אפֿשר דווקא דאָס יאָר, לכּבֿוד דעם שפּעטערדיקן פֿרילינג און דער האָפֿענונג אַז עס וועט שוין נעמען אַ סוף צו דער מלחמה, קאָן מעט זיך צוריקקערן צו די באַשיידענע גוטע בלעטער. דערבײַ קאָן מען אַ תּפֿילה טאָן אַז ישׂראל זאָל אַליין אויפֿגעריכט ווערן, און איך גלויב נאָך אַלץ אַז עס קאָן זײַן בעסער סײַ פֿאַר אונדז און סײַ פֿאַר אונדזערע שכנים.
צום סוף, אָט איז דער צוגעזאָגטער רעצעפּט פֿון די געשמאַקע מאַלווע-קאָטלעטן:
500 גראַם מאַלווע־בלעטער, גוט געוואַשן
ציבעלע, צעהאַקט און געפּרעגלט
2 ציינדלעך קנאָבל, צעריבן
2 אייער
½ גלאָז מצה-מעל צי ברייזל (ברויט-קרישקעס)
זאַלץ און פֿעפֿער
איילבערט־בוימל
קאָכט די מאַלווע־בלעטער אין וואַסער אַ פּאָר מינוט. קוועטשט אויס דאָס וואַסער, און צעהאַקט די בלעטער. דערנאָך גיט צו די אַנדערע אינגרעדיענטן, און קנייט אויס רונדיקע קאָטלעטן. פּרעלגט (אָדער באַקט) זיי ביז זיי ברוינען זיך צו.
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