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A Holocaust survivor and her family saw ‘Leopoldstadt.’ The Broadway play told their story.
(New York Jewish Week) — On a Wednesday evening last month, three generations of a Jewish family made their way to their seats at the Longacre Theater to see “Leopoldstadt,” Tom Stoppard’s epic Broadway play about the tragedies that befall an extended Jewish family in the first half of the 20th century in Vienna.
The date of the family gathering was a significant one: Nov. 9, the 84th anniversary of the Nazi pogroms known as Kristallnacht. And in the audience was Fini Konstat, 96, who lived in the once thriving Jewish neighborhood after which the play is named, and witnessed the horrors it portrays first-hand. Alongside her were her daughter and her son-in-law, Renee and James Akers, and her oldest great-grandchild, Lexi Levin, 23.
When Konstat was a child, she lived in a “nice apartment” in Leopoldstadt. But exactly 84 years to the day of their theater date, “I was running with my father, seeing all the Jewish stores with all their windows broken,” she told Levin in a short video her great-granddaughter filmed before the curtain rose.
“It’s such a blessing for me to be here with you,” Levin said to her great-grandmother in response. “Ninety-six years old, survived a pandemic, at a Broadway show in New York City.”
Left: Fini as a child on the balcony of her apartment in Leopoldstadt. Right: Fini with her three children in front of the very same building, pictured in 2015. (Courtesy)
Since the beginning of its Broadway run in mid-September, “Leopoldstadt,” with its depiction of a prosperous Viennese family on the brink of destruction, has moved audiences to tears and inspired deep reflections on the Holocaust. Based on the celebrated playwright’s own family history — of which he was barely aware while growing up in England — it has provided a stark counterpoint to news about rising antisemitism and the celebrities who have been purveying it.
But for Konstat, the play was much more personal. “When I heard the word ‘Leopoldstadt,’ this alone gave me lots of thrills and memories,” Konstat, who is known in her family as Mimi, told the New York Jewish Week in accented English. She recalled how Levin, who recently moved to the city, invited her to fly to New York to see one of Broadway’s hottest tickets.
“Leopoldstadt,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “The second district. That’s where we lived.”
At the end of Stoppard’s five-act play, audiences learn that most of the Jewish characters had perished under the Nazis — of the four generations in the show, just three cousins survive to carry on the family’s legacy.
For Konstat too, she and her parents were among the very few in their extended family to survive the Holocaust. “Almost all of them went to Auschwitz or other camps,” Konstat said. “My mother was a twin and only the twins remained alive. [My mother’s] five other siblings and my grandmother perished.”
L-R: Renee Akers, James Akers, Lexi Levin and Fini Konstat at the Longacre Theater to see Tom Stoppard’s ‘Leopoldstadt on Broadway,’ Nov. 9, 2022. (Courtesy)
In a Zoom conversation held over Thanksgiving weekend, Konstat, surrounded by two of her daughters, two of her granddaughters and three of her great-granddaughters, shared what the play meant to her — and how her family has restored what she lost.
In the months after Kristallnacht in 1938, Konstat and her parents hid in a neighbor’s apartment; Konstat recalls hiding under the duvet when German soldiers showed up. Eventually the family fled to Turkey, and then to India, before settling down in Mexico City. There, the teenage Fini met her husband David, also a survivor who escaped Poland. The two of them began to write the rest of their story — starting with the birth of the first of their three children in 1948.
Unlike many Holocaust survivors, Fini and David Konstat were open about their experiences during the war, instilling a sense of pride and duty to remember in their children — something that eventually extended to their grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
“They were proud to speak about how they survived this,” said the Konstats’ middle child, Renee Konstat Akers. “Their life was an odyssey. They had the courage to do things that you would never think were possible. We grew up grateful knowing how our family survived in that incredible way.”
Each child moved to different places as they grew up and got married. Manuel, the oldest, stayed in Mexico. Renee married an American and moved to the Midwest, and Denise, the youngest, to Houston. Each became deeply involved in their Jewish communities, sending their children (Konstat’s grandchildren) to Jewish day schools, celebrating Jewish holidays and participating in synagogue life.
“The word ‘miracle’ really does not feel like an understatement in this scenario,” said Sherry Levin, one of Konstat’s grandchildren. “When we think about what it took for my grandmother and grandfather to survive and how they were able to intersect in Mexico, and such an amazing multi-generational family has come to fruition, it feels miraculous.”
Pictured here on their 40th anniversary, Fini and her husband David met in Mexico City after both had fled Europe. They were married 54 years before David died in 2001. (Courtesy)
Reviews of the show have ranged from rhapsodic to resistant, with some critics suggesting the play is simplistic and obvious in its story-telling or that it is less a well-crafted play than a well-meaning lesson on the Holocaust.
But just as the Merz family clashes and argues about everything from antisemitism to intermarriage to socialism in “Leopoldstadt,” each generation of the Konstat family that saw “Leopoldstadt” that night came away with something different — a reaction influenced by their age, their Jewish identity, their nationality and their relationship with their family.
For Konstat, the arc of “Leopoldstadt” was so familiar that it hardly stirred her. “It was just very happy watching it and enjoying it and enjoying my children with me, “ she told the New York Jewish Week. “I didn’t think about anybody else.”
Akers, too, felt an intense familiarity with the story, and, perhaps toughened by her own family history, didn’t experience an intense emotional reaction. Her own parents’ lives gave Akers a sense of purpose in her life — for example, in the 1990s, she was passionate about helping resettle Jews fleeing the former Soviet Union. With her own children, she instilled in them a strong sense of Jewish purpose in their work, their education and their family.
“I was a sandwich in between seeing my mother and my granddaughter,” she said of her “Leopoldstadt” experience. “I was emotional thinking of my mom who went through it, but I was more emotional about seeing my granddaughter be so moved. It really hit her at her core.”
Indeed, it was the youngest member of the family present that night who was most shaken by the play.
“It really felt like a gift to my family and to me, specifically, to be able to see what Mimi’s life looked like before the war,” Lexi Levin said, surmising that, as a fourth-generation survivor, she is among the first in her family to be able to start processing the loss on a grander scale.
“For the first time in my life, I really felt the magnitude of her loss,” she added. “I’ve known her story and I’ve been inspired by her story to be involved with my own Jewish causes, but I have never been able to access and truly empathize with her grief and what it meant that she lost the entire family she had before this one that she created.”
Turning to her great-grandmother, as if trying to make her understand the exact precision of the show, Levin explained, “It’s a play about generations and the family was large and then it was small.”
“You made it large again,” she said, referring to the generations of family that had assembled — in the Broadway theater and again over Thanksgiving weekend. “Look at this room.”
Pictured on her 90th birthday in 2017, Fini Konstat now has three children, ten grandchildren and twenty great-grandchildren. (Courtesy)
There was a coda for the family after the curtain went down. The day after the show, the family wanted to see the 1907 “Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I,” one of Gustav Klimt’s most famous paintings, which currently hangs at the Neue Galerie on the Upper East Side. A version of the portrait’s true story — how a painting of a socialite from a prominent Viennese Jewish family was looted by the Nazis and the family’s efforts to get it back — features in the plot of “Leopoldstadt.”
The gallery, however, was closed on the only day the family could visit. After a call to the management at the gallery, which showcases the German and Austrian art collections of Jewish philanthropist Ronald S. Lauder, the gallery’s director arranged a private tour.
“It felt like we were in a puzzle and everything was finally coming together,” said Akers. “It was an emotional, emotional time.”
When the week was over and the emotions were spent, Konstat and the Akers returned home with a reignited passion for their family story. But there was yet another twist: In addition to the whirlwind trip Levin planned for her grandparents and for Mimi, she had been undergoing the laborious process of applying for Austrian citizenship. Six members in Konstat’s large family have undertaken the process over the last two years.
“Part of the motivation was knowing Mimi’s story, and knowing that she survived because her mother had citizenship in Turkey,” Levin said. “That story was just inspirational to me, knowing that dual citizenship was what saved our family.” She convinced her brother and mother to apply for Austrian citizenship as well.
The day after her grandmother and great-grandmother left New York, Levin called them with news from her small apartment in Manhattan: An Austrian passport had arrived in the mail. The curtain was rising on another act.
Konstat was surprised at how interested her family was in getting Austrian citizenship. “I feel very good,” she said. “I’m very happy.”
“Does it make you emotional?” Levin asked her during the Zoom call with the New York Jewish Week.
“It does — of course it does. I used to love Austria,” she said. “I was sad to leave. I was disappointed. We never thought of coming back. I was happy to be able to escape. Thank God we made it out of hell.”
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The post A Holocaust survivor and her family saw ‘Leopoldstadt.’ The Broadway play told their story. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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81 Years After the Holocaust, Antisemitism Pervasive in Germany, Poland
A demonstration in Schwerin, Germany under the slogan “All together to protect democracy”, with a banner reading “Against Nazis”. They want to demonstrate against new borders in Europe and protest against cooperation with right-wing extremists. Photo: Bernd Wüstneck/dpa via Reuters Connect.
Eighty-one years after the Holocaust, antisemitism remains rampant in the heart of the former Third Reich, with rising antisemitic hate crimes in Germany and incidents targeting Jewish communities in Poland drawing widespread condemnation.
On Tuesday, as the world marked International Holocaust Remembrance Day, a group of Orthodox Israelis waiting to board a flight to Israel at Krakow Airport in Poland were physically and verbally assaulted by an airport employee, in the latest antisemitic incident drawing condemnation from officials and community leaders.
The travelers were praying before boarding their flight when the employee noticed them and began shouting antisemitic slurs while demanding that they stop.
When the group members explained they were nearly finished, the assailant became even more aggressive, reportedly spitting on one person and pushing another.
As the situation escalated and the assailant grew more hostile, airport police intervened to control the scene, with the incident captured and widely shared online.
In videos circulating on social media, the airport employee is seen approaching the group aggressively, shouting, “Why are you in Poland? Go back to Israel.”
The group members are seen speaking in English, asking him to stop, as he persists in claiming that Poland is “his country.”
Go back to Israel, what are you doing coming to Poland”:
A group of Israeli ultra-Orthodox Jews who traveled to Poland were attacked by a local airport employee – but they didn’t stay silent: “Be quiet.” | video pic.twitter.com/vu0Iz3rSy6— daniel amram – דניאל עמרם (@danielamram3) January 27, 2026
According to local media, airport officials have yet to release a public statement, confirm whether the employee has been suspended or disciplined, or clarify if an investigation into the incident is underway.
The airport workers’ remarks were reminiscent of comments made by Polish lawmaker Grzegorz Braun, a far-right politician notorious for his repeated antisemitic statements and outspoken criticism of Israel.
“Poland is for Poles. Other nations have their own countries, including the Jews,” Braun said during a press conference in November in Oświęcim, a town in southern Poland that is home to the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp memorial and museum. International Holocaust Remembrance Day is observed annually on Jan. 27, the date when Auschwitz, the largest and most notorious of the Nazi death camps, was liberated.
“Jews want to be super-humans in Poland, entitled to a better status, and the Polish police dance to their tune,” Braun continued.
Poland, like most countries across Europe and the broader Western world, has seen a rise in antisemitic incidents over the last two years, in the wake of Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, invasion of and massacre across southern Israel.
Germany has been one such country to experience a surge in antisemitism.
Most recently, unknown individuals vandalized the memorial at a local synagogue in Kiel, a city in the northwestern part of the country, destroying items left by people honoring the victims of the Holocaust — including a Star of David, candles, and a photograph.
“This attack is an utterly unacceptable act of antisemitic hatred and an affront to the memory of the crimes committed under National Socialism,” Daniel Günther, the minister-president of Schleswig-Holstein, a state in northern Germany, said in a statement. “Anyone who desecrates a memorial site like this violates historical responsibility and the core values of the state.”
“We are witnessing a growing number of antisemitic incidents. Ninety years ago, that hatred marked the beginning of the end,” he continued. “That is precisely why we cannot tolerate a single incident today. Every act must be investigated and punished under the rule of law.”
This latest antisemitic attack comes as the local Jewish community rallies to defend democracy and protest against antisemitism on International Holocaust Remembrance Day.
Observed each year on Jan. 27, the day honors the six million Jews and other victims killed by the Nazis and commemorates the liberation of Auschwitz in 1945.
“Holocaust survivors around the world are asking whether democracies and their citizens are sufficiently aware of the dangers posed by the hateful rhetoric of far-right and populist politicians and parties,” Christoph Heubner, vice president of the International Auschwitz Committee from Berlin, said in a statement.
“Antisemitism has an unfortunate characteristic: it serves as an ideological bridge between right-wing extremists, left-wing extremists, and Islamists alike,” he continued. “These forces will continue to grow stronger if, as a society, we do not stop these threatening developments.”
According to newly released figures from the German Ministry of the Interior obtained by the newspaper BILD, antisemitic incidents continued to rise last year, with 2,122 offenses reported in Berlin alome, including 60 violent attacks.
This represents a significant increase of 80 percent compared with the already high number of incidents in previous years, with Berlin police recording 901 such offenses in 2023 and 1,622 in 2024, BILD reported.
“The rise in these figures is alarming, but not surprising. When politicians allow antisemitic demonstrations to go unchallenged, it emboldens certain groups and reinforces their antisemitic attitudes and attacks,” Timur Husein, a member of Parliament from the CDU, Germany’s center-right Christian Democratic Union, who requested the data, told the German newspaper.
Husein also said that the CDU is looking to strengthen Germany’s assembly laws to ban antisemitic demonstrations, which he says are responsible for a significant share of these crimes.
Earlier this month, the commissioner to combat antisemitism in the German state of Hesse sounded the alarm after an arson attack on a local synagogue in the town of Giessen, warning that it reflects a “growing pogrom-like atmosphere” threatening Jewish life across Germany as Jews and Israelis continue to face an increasingly hostile climate.
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Minnesota, Rabbi Tarfon and the language of horror
I sat up when Senator Tina Smith of Minnesota described a “coalition of the horrified” that formed in response to this past weekend’s appalling shooting of a protester on a Minneapolis street — the second shooting of an American citizen there by ICE
“Coalition of the horrified?” I thought. “That’s a great phrase. And it can move people.”
“There’s sort of this coalition of the horrified that has developed around what’s been happening here in Minnesota. And it includes law enforcement,” Smith told the PBS News Hour. “It is people who care about Second Amendment rights — the level of rejection of this behavior of ICE is growing, not diminishing.”
Perhaps Republican politicians are finally horrified enough to talk with Democratic colleagues about how disproportionate all of this is.
While “horrified” is a relatively recent word, first used in 1791, the word “horror” is quite old, and its history helps explain what many of us are feeling.
The word “horror” comes from the Middle English orrour, horrour, which is borrowed from Anglo-French horrour, which is in turn borrowed from Latin horrōr.
According to Merriam-Webster, it means “standing stiffly, bristling (of hair), shivering (from cold or fear), dread, consternation.”
That “stiffness” seems apt.
In recent weeks, I have spoken to several friends and neighbors who could not figure out how to respond to the Trump administration’s most recent outrages.
“I just don’t know what to do,” a longtime neighbor and Democratic activist said.
“What can one person do about any of this?” an old friend commented sadly. “I feel powerless.”
In other words, stiffness had set in.
But Senator Smith’s apt language gives us all a starting point. Form a coalition. Join with others. Stand together.
And Jewish tradition has a deeper answer to the “what to do?” question. It comes from Pirkei Avot, or “Ethics of the Fathers.”
Rabbi Tarfon was discussing what to do when the day appeared short, but the to-do list was long. His famous comment — lo alecha ha’mlacha ligmor — is relevant now.
“It is not your duty to finish the work,” Rabbi Tarfon said. “But neither are you at liberty to neglect it,” Rabbi Tarfon said,
This is the same passage that Josh Shapiro, the Jewish governor of Pennsylvania, quoted when he was elected in 2022.
He quoted the same verse again after Minnesota governor Tim Walz was selected as the vice presidential pick. Shapiro had been a contender, but ultimately was not chosen.
What is important now is not only to know who we may be standing with, but also who we are not standing with.
We don’t stand with those who shoot protesters to death in the street. And we don’t have to complete everything — we don’t have to agree with fellow protesters on every political issue — but as Rabbi Tarfon explained, we do have to get in the fray.
We have to remember our tradition. Ben chorin, frequently translated as “at liberty” in the Rabbi Tarfon phrase, is actually an idiom meaning a free man.
If it sounds familiar, it may be because it’s the singular form of b’nei chorin, or “freeborn” in the plural, part of the famous avadim hayinu or “we were slaves” narrative in the Haggadah.
Once we were slaves; now we are free.
We cannot allow ourselves to be so stiff with horror that we become powerless. We cannot give up freedom for slavery.
We must instead use that horror to come together. I hope Senator Smith is right that at the leadership level, that is already happening. At the language level, at least, I can feel a turn.
The post Minnesota, Rabbi Tarfon and the language of horror appeared first on The Forward.
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San Diego Group Apologizes for Disinviting Rabbi From MLK Jr. Event Over ‘Safety Concerns,’ Pro-Israel Stance
The Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial in Washington, DC. Photo: Reuters / Allison Shelley.
Organizers of a Martin Luther King Jr. Day event in San Diego, California, have apologized for disinviting a rabbi from speaking due to his stance on the Israel-Hamas war and “safety concerns.”
Alliance San Diego made the apology in a released statement after receiving widespread criticism for its treatment of Rabbi Hanan Leberman, the leader of Tifereth Israel Synagogue in San Diego. He was originally scheduled to lead the closing prayer at the city’s 38th annual All Peoples Celebration at the Balboa Park Activity Center on Jan. 19.
In a description for the event, Alliance San Diego invited the public to “choose Courage; to decide, with intention, to do what is right even when the fear and opposition are loud. Now more than ever, our voices must rise above hesitation. We must claim our dignity and echo the notion that any attack on one, is an attack on us all.”
A day before the event, Leberman wrote in a Facebook post he was “deeply upset” to learn he had been disinvited from presenting at the ceremony because of his “connection to Israel.” Alliance San Diego claimed Leberman was instead invited to attend the program as a guest, but the rabbi said he ultimately decided not to attend the event at all.
The decision to disinvite Leberman from presenting at the event was condemned by a coalition of nearly four dozen community-based organizations, social service providers, and synagogues in a joint statement published on Jan. 18.
While apologizing for the move in a statement shared on Instagram, Alliance San Diego also explained its decision, saying that event organizers faced “major disruption over two speakers’ public stances on the conflict in Israel-Palestine.”
“We hear the community’s concern that this decision felt to some like an exclusion of Jewish identity echoing historical traumas and antisemitic patterns present in many public spaces today. This was not our intention, and we apologize for reinforcing this pattern,” the group said. “To protect the attendees at the celebration and keep the focus on Dr. King, we asked both speakers to attend as our guests instead of present on the program. Our decision was based solely on safety concerns and was communicated in person conversations with the speakers. We recognize, however, that intent does not erase impact, and we take responsibility for the hurt caused … A deep source of regret is that our missteps have distracted us from our core work of creating a San Diego that is safe for all people.”
Leberman was born in Chicago, raised in Philadelphia, and ordained as a rabbi in Israel, where he lived and worked before moving to San Diego, according to the website for Tifereth Israel Synagogue. He moved to Israel at the age of 20 and served three years in the undercover counter-terrorist unit Duvduvan of the Israel Defense Forces, often serving as the unit’s cantor. Leberman studied at the Jerusalem Academy of Music, and aside from being a cantor, he is also a professional opera singer. He served as a rabbi and cantor for the Masorti movement in Israel and led congregations as a guest cantor in Israel, England, and the United States.
Alliance San Diego said in an earlier statement that it asked two speakers to give up their speaking roles at the event “in response to concerns about potential disruption related to Zionism and anti-Zionism,” but noted they had not been disinvited. The other speaker was not publicly identified but also ultimately decided not to attend the event.
“At the time, we believed we were acting in the best interest of protecting attendees and preserving the spirit of the event,” the group said in its statement. “Our intention was never to exclude Jewish faith leaders or Jewish voices from this space. As an organization working across many communities under immense strain and confronting assaults on immigrant communities, including Jewish and Israeli immigrants at a time of rising antisemitism and fear, we acknowledge that our decision contributed to that pain rather than alleviating it.”
Leberman said in his Facebook post on Jan. 18 that disinviting him from speaking at the event “runs counter to Dr. King’s message — particularly at this moment in history, when Jews are experiencing the most significant rise in hate crimes of any group.”
“The decision to disinvite me is, in my view, a disservice to the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr,” he added. “I believe the organization would benefit from deeper education about what Zionism truly is and about what the Jewish community is facing today — from both the left and the right.”