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Lorraine Hansberry’s second play had a white Jewish protagonist. Oscar Isaac and Rachel Brosnahan are reviving it.
NEW YORK (JTA) — Sidney Brustein, Jewish Hamlet?
Anne Kauffman thinks so. She made the comparison in a phone interview about the play she’s directing — a buzzy production of Lorraine Hansberry’s “The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window” that opened on Monday at the Brooklyn Academy of Music starring Oscar Isaac and Rachel Brosnahan.
“One artistic director who was thinking of doing this [play] was like, ‘You know, it’s not like he’s Hamlet, but…’ And I thought, well, no, actually I think he is like Hamlet!” she said.
She added another take: “I feel like he’s Cary Grant meets Zero Mostel.”
Hansberry saw just two of her works produced on Broadway before her death from cancer at 34 in January 1965. Her first, “A Raisin in the Sun,” which follows a Black family dealing with housing discrimination in Chicago, is widely considered one of the most significant plays of the 20th century. The other, “The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window,” ran for a few months in the fall of 1964 until Hansberry’s death and has only been revived a handful of times since, all outside of New York.
Now, the star power of Isaac and Brosnahan is driving renewed interest in the play, which deals with weighty questions about political activism, self-fulfillment in a capitalist world, and racial and ethnic identity — including mid-century Jewish American identity.
The Brustein character, as Kauffman alluded to, is many things. A resident of Greenwich Village deeply embedded in that historic neighborhood’s 1960s activist and artistic circles, he is somewhat of a creative renaissance man. At the start of the play, his club of sorts (“it was not a nightclub” is a running joke) called “Walden Pond” has just shuttered and he has taken over an alternative newspaper. As the script reads, Brustein is an intellectual “in the truest sense of the word” but “does not wear glasses” — the latter description being a possible jab at his macho tendencies. Formerly an ardent leftist activist, he is now weary of the worth of activism and a bit of a nihilist. He’s in his late 30s and is a musician who often picks up a banjo.
Brustein is also a secular Jew, a fact that he telegraphs at certain key emotional and comedic moments. Others, from friends to his casually antisemitic sister-in-law, frequently reference his identity, too.
At the end of the play’s first half, for example, Brustein brings up the heroes of the Hanukkah story in talking about his existential angst — and his stomach ulcer. He has become belligerent to his wife Iris and to a local politician who wants Brustein’s paper’s endorsement.
“How does one confront the thousand nameless faceless vapors that are the evil of our time? Can a sword pierce it?” Sidney says. “One does not smite evil anymore: one holds one’s gut, thus — and takes a pill. Oh, but to take up the sword of the Maccabees again!”
Hansberry’s decision to center a white Jewish character surprised critics and fans alike in 1964 because many of them expected her to follow “A Raisin in the Sun” with further exploration of issues facing Black Americans, said Joi Gresham, the director of the Lorraine Hansberry Literary Trust.
“The major attack, both critically and on a popular basis, in regards to the play and to its central character was that Lorraine was out of her lane,” Gresham said. “That not only did she not know what she’s talking about, but that she had the nerve to even examine that subject matter.”
Hansberry’s closest collaborator was her former husband Robert Nemiroff, a Jewish New Yorker whom she had divorced in 1962 but maintained an artistic partnership with. Nemiroff was a bit Brustein-like in his pursuits: he edited books, produced and promoted Hansberry’s work, and even wrote songs (one of which made the couple enough money to allow Hansberry to focus on writing “A Raisin in the Sun”). But Gresham — who is Nemiroff’s stepdaughter through his second marriage, to professor Jewell Handy Gresham-Nemiroff — emphasized that his personality was nothing like Brustein’s. While Brustein is brash and mean to Iris, Nemiroff was undyingly supportive of Hansberry and her work, said Gresham, who lived with him and her mother at Nemiroff’s Croton-on-Hudson home — the one he had formerly shared for a time with Hansberry — from age 10 onward.
Instead, Gresham argued, the Brustein character was the result of Hansberry’s deep engagement with Jewish intellectual thought, in part influenced by her relationship with Nemiroff. The pair met at a protest and would bond over their passion for fighting for social justice, which included combating antisemitism. The night before their wedding, they protested the execution of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, and they would remain highly involved in the wave of activism that blossomed into the Black-Jewish civil rights alliance.
“Bob and Lorraine met and built a life together at a place where there was a very strong Black-Jewish nexus. There was a very strong interplay and interaction,” Gresham said. “I think Lorraine was very influenced by Bob’s family, the Nemiroffs, who were very radical in their politics. And so there was a way in which she was introduced to the base of Jewish intellectualism and Jewish progressive politics, that she took to heart and she was very passionate about.”
Robert Nemiroff and Lorraine Hansberry were married from 1953-62. They are shown here in 1959. (Ben Martin/Getty Images)
Hansberry didn’t hesitate to criticize Jewish writers who said controversial things about Black Americans, either. When Norman Podhoretz wrote “My Negro Problem — And Ours,” an explosive 1963 article in Commentary magazine now widely seen as racist, Hansberry responded with a scathing rebuke. She also sparred with Norman Mailer, who once wrote an essay titled “The White Negro: Superficial Reflections on the Hipster.”
Gresham said Brustein’s nihilism represents what Hansberry saw in a range of Jewish and non-Jewish white writers, whom she hoped could be kickstarted back into activism. But Hansberry also nodded to the reasons why someone like Brustein could feel defeated in the early 1960s, a decade and a half after World War II.
“You mean diddle around with the little things since we can’t do anything about the big ones? Forget about the Holocaust and worry about — reforms in the traffic court or something?” Brustein says at one point in the play to a local politician running as a reformer.
Daniel Pollack-Pelzner, a Jewish scholar of literature who has written on Hansberry, said the resulting Brustein character is a very accurate depiction of a secular Jew at the time — both keenly attuned to prejudice in society and also lacking some understanding of the experience of being Black.
“I was just intoxicated that Hansberry could conjure that world, both so affectionately, but also so clear-sidedly that it seems like she can see the limitations of all of the characters’ perspectives,” he said. “But she also represents them with sympathy and humor.”
Kauffman, who also helmed a revival of the play in Chicago in 2016, is impressed with how “fully fledged” the Brustein character is.
“Who are the cultural icons who have sort of articulated the Jew in our culture in the last 50 years or 60 years, you know?” she said. “Brustein is not a caricature of a Woody Allen character, he’s not even ‘Curb your Enthusiasm’ or a Jerry Seinfeld character. He’s a fully drawn character.”
Isaac, who is of mainly Guatemalan and Cuban heritage, has played Jewish characters before, including a formerly Orthodox man in an Israeli director’s remake of the classic film “Scenes From a Marriage.” In the lead-up to this play, he has largely avoided getting caught in headlines focused on the “Jewface” debate, over whether non-Jewish actors should be allowed to play Jewish characters on stage and screen.
But when asked about the responsibility of playing a Jewish character in a New York Times interview, Isaac referenced the fact that he has some Jewish heritage on his father’s side.
“We could play that game: How Jewish are you?” he said to interviewer Alexis Soloski, who is Jewish. “It is part of my family, part of my life. I feel the responsibility to not feel like a phony. That’s the responsibility, to feel like I can say these things, do these things and feel like I’m doing it honestly and truthfully.”
When Kauffman directed a version of the play at the Goodman Theater in Chicago in 2016, her lead actor had “not a single drop of Jewish heritage…in his blood,” and she said she had to convey “what anger looks like” coming from a Jewish perspective. Working with Isaac has been different — instead of starting at a base of no knowledge, she has been pushing for more of an Ashkenazi sensibility than a Sephardic one.
“I believe that his heritage leans, I’m guessing, more towards Sephardic. And mine is pure Ashkenazi,” she said. “We sort of joke: ‘[The part] is a little bit more Ashkenazi than that, you know what I mean?’ Like, ‘the violence is actually turned towards yourself!’”
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The post Lorraine Hansberry’s second play had a white Jewish protagonist. Oscar Isaac and Rachel Brosnahan are reviving it. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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What we get wrong about how Germany has reckoned with its Nazi past
On a recent Freakonomics episode about the German film director Werner Herzog, host Stephen Dubner voiced a familiar assertion about postwar Germany’s confrontation with the Nazi past — an assertion shared by many Americans but one that is, in fact, a partial myth.
“It’s always impressed me,” Dubner said to Herzog, “the way that Germany, after the Second World War, assessed what had happened and in its schools and its institutions tried to come to grips with why and how, and to educate its successive generations.”
What’s wrong with this statement? At its core, it recycles a narrative crafted by the United States and its anti-Soviet allies during the Cold War — one designed for geopolitical purposes and carried into the 21st century.
Though it’s true that German schools have been admirably rigorous in teaching the history of the Third Reich and the Holocaust, and Germany has taken many other historic steps to make amends, German government agencies spent decades avoiding a full confrontation with their own past. Files documenting the depth of Nazi continuity within the postwar civil service were kept under lock and key well into the new century.
In my book, Nazis at the Watercooler: War Criminals in Postwar German Government Agencies, I reveal how West Germany hired seriously incriminated ex-Nazis for civil service positions and tell the story of a reckoning that took nearly six decades to begin — a chapter in Germany’s confrontation with its past that still receives too little recognition.
For decades, ministries shielded their records from public view. The first major breakthrough came in 2005, when Foreign Minister Joschka Fischer, appalled to discover that his ministry’s internal newsletter had been publishing glowing obituaries for diplomats implicated in Nazi crimes, established an independent team of historians to examine the Foreign Office archives. Their report, released five years later, documented not only the involvement of German diplomats in the machinery of the Third Reich but also the ease with which many resumed their careers in the West German state.
Over the past two decades, virtually every major German government institution has followed the Foreign Office’s lead — commissioning historians to examine old files and arriving at similarly disturbing conclusions. There was foot-dragging along the way; the Chancellor’s Office, the nerve center of the German government, did not release the findings of its own self-examination until last year.
These long delays raise a question that reaches beyond Germany. If a nation widely praised for its moral clarity took more than half a century to confront the actions of its institutions, what might that suggest about how the United States will one day confront the legacy of Donald Trump and the MAGA movement?
Of all the West German government agencies in the first postwar decade, none — with the exception of the foreign intelligence service — was a more welcoming harbor for ex-Nazis with blood on their hands than the Bundeskriminalamt, or Federal Criminal Police Office, a German version of the FBI known by its initials, BKA. The depth of this infiltration was exposed by Dieter Schenk, a security specialist at the BKA who quit over the West German government’s cozy relationships with right-wing dictators.
While at the BKA, Schenk heard hushed rumors about investigators with dark pasts. After resigning, he began to dig. He uncovered documents that exposed about two dozen of the BKA’s top employees who had served with Nazi units that committed war crimes and were never put on trial.
Schenk published his findings in a 2001 bestseller titled Auf dem rechten Auge blind: Die braunen Wurzeln des BKA (Turning a Blind Eye to the Right: The Brown Roots of the BKA). Several years later, the BKA commissioned its own panel of historians, who reached conclusions similar to Schenk’s. Their findings were published in 2011.
More inquiries followed.
Even the super-secretive Federal Intelligence Service, the BND, opened up about former SS officers who landed jobs at the West German spy agency, some with the assistance of American intelligence, despite having served in Nazi units that committed war crimes. One of the most stunning revelations was that in the late 1950s and early 60s the BND had on its payroll one of the most sought-after war criminals — Walter Rauff, hiding out in Chile.
Historians hired by the Justice Ministry found that in the late 1950s about half the senior employees had been card-carrying Nazis, including lawyers who attended meetings planning the Holocaust. A 2016 report documented how senior officials helped former Third Reich jurists paper over their pasts.
A 2018 Interior Ministry report exposed networks of ex-Nazi administrators who resumed their careers with the help of testimonials they wrote for one another. These testimonials were dubbed Persilscheine, or “Persil notes,” after a popular laundry detergent — making an ex-Nazi’s past appear as clean as fresh laundry.
One section of the report catalogues the excuses job candidates used to whitewash their wartime acts: They were coerced into joining the party; they needed a steady income; they had worked for the Third Reich to protect Jews; they were secretly in the resistance; they looked like loyal Nazis on the outside but hated Hitler on the inside. In the Interior Ministry’s culture department, researchers found that 43% of reviewed employees had concealed incriminating elements. They found no evidence that anyone was disciplined for lying.
Which brings us to Trump’s America.
America in 2026 and West Germany in the early postwar years are very different. The German democracy was just getting started; American democracy has existed for 250 years. Still, it would be a mistake to dismiss the German experience as offering no lessons. In the early 1950s, there was no certainty that the new German democracy would take root. In Trump’s America, there is no certainty that democracy will endure in the form we have known.
West Germany was still reeling from the war in the 1950s. A top priority of the victorious allies was capturing and punishing Nazi perpetrators — through the Nuremberg trials, denazification, and the imprisonment of thousands of soldiers and Nazi officials. But the populace rebelled against what they called “victors’ justice,” placing massive political pressure on Chancellor Konrad Adenauer. The United States and West Germany struck an unspoken bargain: suspending the pursuit of war criminals in exchange for Adenauer’s alignment with the United States and NATO in their emerging Cold War confrontation with the Soviet bloc.
Backing away from punishing Germans for the crimes of the Third Reich may have been a factor in the new democracy’s eventual success. But it came at a price. Adenauer was certainly no Nazi, but he was not above employing tactics reminiscent of those of the old regime — including using the foreign intelligence service to spy on his political opponents. And while an untold number of Germans complicit in Nazi abuses were able to resume their lives without consequence, including postwar civil servants who concealed their Third Reich misdeeds during the hiring process, their victims and victims’ families were never given the justice they deserved.
There will be a post-Trump era, but we have no idea what it will look like. What is clear is that calls for accountability are already accumulating — for corruption, for intimidating federal judges, for using the Justice Department to pursue Trump’s political enemies, for obstructing congressional oversight, and for violating migrants’ due-process rights in his sweeping deportation campaign, among other alleged abuses. The question is not whether a reckoning will be demanded, but how it might be pursued.
Like West Germany in its formative years, America will face difficult choices: whom to punish, how they should be punished, and how to keep the coming reckoning from deepening fractures within the country rather than healing them.
The post What we get wrong about how Germany has reckoned with its Nazi past appeared first on The Forward.
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Israel Warns Citizens in UAE to Keep Low Profile Amid Iranian Drone, Missile Strikes
Smoke billows from Zayed port after an Iranian attack, following United States and Israel strikes on Iran, in Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates, March 1, 2026. Picture taken with phone. Photo: REUTERS/Abdelhadi Ramahi
Israel’s National Security Council has urged Israelis in the United Arab Emirates to exercise extreme caution as Iran continues its campaign of drone and missile attacks across the country and broader Gulf region, warning that their safety could be directly at risk.
Jews and Israelis living in the UAE are being advised to avoid public events, synagogues, Israeli-linked businesses, and unnecessary gatherings, including at airports, unless holding a valid flight ticket.
Israeli authorities also instructed employees of companies linked to Israel to stay away from offices and facilities for their own safety.
As flights to and from the UAE remain unpredictable, travelers are strongly advised to avoid itineraries with layovers in the country.
The Israeli government confirmed that supplementary flights bringing Israelis home from the UAE are expected to conclude by Sunday, March 15.
As the war escalates, Iran is continuing to attack neighboring countries and regional interests of the US and Israel, launching waves of drones and missiles that have struck Gulf states, hit critical infrastructure, and forced heightened security measures across the Middle East.
While the US-Israeli campaign has destroyed much of Iran’s military capabilities, thereby reducing their rate of missile fire, launches are still occurring.
Iran has launched more than 1,800 drones and missiles at the UAE since the war began two weeks ago, the latter’s defense ministry said on Friday. While most of the projectiles have been stopped by interceptors and other defensive measures, six people have been killed and 141 have been injured, in addition to significant damage.
In an interview on Friday, UAE Minister of State Lana Nusseibeh urged Iran to cease its attacks on neighboring countries if it seeks a negotiated end to the conflict.
“Ultimately, it will be a diplomatic solution, but there needs to be that tipping point moment, and I think that [US President Donald Trump] will lead us all to that moment in his time,” Nusseibeh said.
“It is difficult to talk about mediation when under attack … Mediation can only happen when the guns go silent,” she continued.
Nusseibeh also expressed that the region was shocked by Iran’s “egregious, illegal, and unlawful attacks” on Gulf nations and Jordan.
According to her, Iranian officials gave no warning that the UAE would be targeted during talks in Tehran two weeks earlier, making the attacks “so shocking and so egregious.”
Iran claims its strikes target the US military presence across the Middle East — including bases in the UAE, Gulf states, Iraq, Jordan, and Turkey — framing them as retaliation for American actions in the region.
However, Iranian drones and missiles have struck key infrastructure, including Dubai Airport, major hotels, and the UAE’s financial hub, sending shockwaves through the region and triggering heightened security alerts across neighboring countries.
The UAE’s top diplomat warned that restoring relations with Iran to their pre‑war status would be nearly impossible, pointing to “the destruction and the chaos that Iran has caused in the region,” as evidence of the deepening regional crisis.
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Temple Israel was my home — and what I learned there can help us get through this difficult moment
Temple Israel has long been a staple of the Detroit Jewish community — and in many ways, it has been a cornerstone of my own life. My connection to that synagogue stretches back to my earliest musical memories.
My first voice teacher, in 8th grade, was the wife of Temple Israel’s cantor, Neil Michaels. As a teenager, I sang in their choir, the Teen T’filah Team, where I was first exposed to the music of the Reform movement and where I first experienced the use of instrumentation in services. It was there that I first learned the song Kehilah Kedoshah by Dan Nichols, a piece I now frequently sing with our own East End Temple choir. As a high school student, I even sang alongside the cantors there during High Holiday services. Throughout childhood I remained close with all three of Rabbi Paul Yedwab’s children, as we attended school together, were in theatre together, and travelled to Israel together.
Temple Israel is where my mother studied for her adult bat mitzvah which was officiated by Rabbi Harold Loss. And it was Temple Israel that took me on my first and second trips to Israel — experiences that profoundly changed the trajectory of my life, deepening and reframing my relationship with Judaism, and ultimately inspiring me to devote my life to the Jewish people. I still vividly remember our 2010 Teen Mission to Israel, led by Rabbi Josh Bennett. On that trip, I realized something transformative: that clergy could be more than just symbolic exemplars of a community, but also fun, adventurous, relatable, deeply present in the lives of young people, and powerful influences on their willingness to engage in Jewish life.
That trip had an unquantifiable impact on me. It was on that drive home from the airport that I decided Judaism needed to once again become a more central part of my life. Two weeks later, for my senior year of high school, I made what felt at the time like a radical decision: I transferred from West Bloomfield High School to the Jewish Academy of Metropolitan Detroit (now the Frankel Jewish Academy).
During that year, I began seriously exploring whether I might pursue a career in the cantorate. I arranged an off-campus internship that allowed me to compare and contrast the life and role of the cantor in both the Conservative and Reform movements. Once a week, I studied privately with Cantor Meir Finkelstein at my family’s Conservative congregation, Shaarey Zedek, and another day each week, I studied with Cantor Michael Smolash at Temple Israel. Aside from my internship, my favorite class that year was a course called Denominational Differences, co-taught by rabbis from the Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform movements — including two of my own beloved rabbis, Aaron Starr (Shaarey Zedek) and Josh Bennett (Temple Israel). In fact, that very subject eventually became the topic of my master’s thesis in cantorial school.
Needless to say, it is unlikely that I would be standing here today as your cantor were it not for the profound influence that the Metro Detroit Jewish community—and Temple Israel in particular—had on me throughout my childhood.
It is for this reason that yesterday’s news struck me so deeply. Learning of antisemitic attacks in the news is always painful and disturbing. Yet, as the frequency of these attacks across the globe becomes evermore pervasive, it’s difficult not to become slightly jaded or emotionally hardened — a natural coping mechanism to deal with ongoing trauma. People are not meant to live in a state of perpetual anxiety and hypervigilance.
But yesterday’s attack on Temple Israel shook me to my core. It is impossible not to experience antisemitism differently when it touches your own community. Realizing that one of my childhood synagogues was the target of a terrorist attack feels surreal. We know intellectually that terrible things happen in the world — but we rarely expect them to happen to us. We must, therefore, remain forever mindful that tragedy is always personal to someone.
Even amid this frightening event, I am profoundly grateful for the brave security personnel at Temple Israel — especially their director of security, Danny — who quite literally put his life on the line to protect everyone inside the building, including the 106 preschool children and teachers who were in class at the time. We pray for the swift and complete physical and emotional healing of those officers, and we hold them in our hearts. It is truly miraculous that no civilians were injured during this attack. And the outpouring of support from the broader Metro Detroit community has been extraordinary — especially from our non-Jewish friends and neighbors who did not hesitate to help in our time of need.
We are particularly grateful to the Chaldean (Iraqi-Christian) community who opened their homes and businesses to shelter those fleeing the scene. The Chaldean-owned Shenandoah country club, museum, and cultural center across the street immediately welcomed and protected those seeking refuge. The fact that Shenandoah — the largest Chaldean community center in the United States — stands directly across the street from Temple Israel — the largest Reform synagogue in the United States — is no coincidence. It reflects the deep personal and communal ties between our communities.
When I was a student there, West Bloomfield High School was comprised of roughly one-third Jewish and one-fifth Chaldean students. Our communities shared classrooms, neighborhoods, friendships — and often cultural similarities. Both Jews and Chaldeans are Middle Eastern peoples whose identities weave together religion, culture, and ancestry. Both communities carry histories shaped by persecution and resilience. Both place profound emphasis on family, education, and tradition. In fact, back home I became somewhat known as the Chaldean community’s Jewish wedding singer, singing at numerous Chaldean churches as the bride walked down the aisle.
In moments like this, we see those shared bonds revealed in the most powerful of ways. I have no doubt that from this tragic incident something meaningful will emerge: our communities will grow stronger, more resilient, more deeply connected, and even more outspokenly proud of our identities. Hatred seeks to isolate and intimidate, but solidarity, courage, and compassion remind us that we are never alone. When neighbors protect neighbors, when communities stand together in the face of fear, we transform even the darkest moments into opportunities for unity, strength and hope.
Olivia Brodsky is the cantor and co-clergy of East End Temple in Manhattan.
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