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A new mural in Nolita celebrates a Holocaust rescuer
(New York Jewish Week) — In the heavily trafficked neighborhood of Nolita, a larger-than-life mural has popped up on the corner of Spring St. and Elizabeth St. Bright orange and pink paint spell out the words “Saved 3,000 Jewish Lives” next to a black and white portrait of Holocaust rescuer Tibor Baranski.
The mural, an art piece designed to combat hate and spark conversation, is the brainchild of “Artists 4 Israel,” a non-profit organization that aims to “prevent the spread of antisemitic and anti-Israel bigotry by helping to heal communities that have been affected by hate through art,” according to its CEO and co-founder Craig Dershowitz.
“Our rallying cry is art over hate,” Dershowitz said. Baranski’s portrait, painted by Fernando “SKI” Romero, a renowned graffiti artist based in Queens, is part of the organization’s “Righteous Among the Nations Global Mural Project.” It aims to establish a network of murals painted in cities around the world that feature other “Righteous Among the Nations” members who helped save Jews during the Holocaust.
“His story was beautiful and it really touched me,” Romero, who is Dominican, said of Baranski, who collaborated with Artists 4 Israel on deciding whom to feature in the New York mural. “The want to paint something came very easily with something so selfless.”
The Baranski mural in Nolita is the third installment of the mural project; eventually there will be 10 murals around the world, said Dershowitz. Each subject is given a mural in their home state or country where they aided Jews: In Portugal, a mural of Aristides de Sousa Mendes, a diplomat who helped arrange passports for Jews has become a popular tour bus stop. In Greece, a mural of Mayor Loukas Karrer and Archbishop Dimitrios Chrysostomos led to national media coverage.
Though Baranski was Hungarian, he lived in Buffalo, New York for nearly six decades and felt at home in New York, which is why the Artists 4 Israel chose him for the mural in Manhattan.
In 1944, Baranski was 22 and studying to become a Catholic priest in Slovakia when the Russian Army invaded and he was forced to return to Budapest, where he grew up.
He never returned to the seminary, and abandoned his dream of becoming a priest. Instead, he dedicated the next years of his life to orchestrating the escape of more than 3,000 Hungarian Jews from the Holocaust.
After arriving in Budapest, Baranski headed to the Vatican embassy residence of the Papal Nuncio Angelo Rotta, where a long line of people were requesting help. The Vatican embassies in Switzerland, Sweden, Spain and Portugal were some of the only places where Jews and other refugees were able to secure letters of protection and necessary documents to leave their countries.
Carol Romeo, who said her family survived the Holocaust, pauses to touch the mural of Holocaust rescuer Tibor Baranski created by Fernando “SKI” Romero, a Dominican-American artist born and raised in Queens. “I never knew he existed,” she said of Baranski. “And he lived here in New York. Everyone should know his story.” (CAM and Artists4Israel)
Pretending to be a priest, Baranski managed to arrange a meeting with Rotta, where he secured documents for a Jewish family he knew. As the story goes, Rotta soon recruited Baranski to help organize protection letters, baptismal certificates and immigration certificates for Jews trying to escape Hungary. He also helped coordinate food and housing for the escapees. Over the next two months, Baranski saved 3,000 Jewish lives, according to official records — though his sons have said he believes the number was closer to 15,000.
After the war, Baranski was imprisoned by the Soviet army for five years for his anti-communist beliefs. He became a freedom fighter during the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 before moving to Rome to start a refugee camp with his wife Katalin.
Eventually the couple moved to Canada and then settled in Buffalo, where they were active members of the community and raised their three children, Tibor Jr., Kati and Peter.
Baranski, who died in 2019, was recognized by Yad Vashem as a Righteous Among the Nations in 1979, and was appointed by President Jimmy Carter to the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Council.
In an obituary in the New York Jewish Week, writer and close friend of Baranski’s Steve Lipman recalls an anecdote Baranski often repeated: “’Why do you, a Christian, help Jews?’ Uncle Tibor told me the Nazis asked him. ‘You are either silly or an idiot,’ he would answer. ‘It is because I am a Christian that I help the Jews.’”
For Dershowitz, who is based in Los Angeles, one of the goals of the murals — and his organization at large — is fighting antisemitism through education about Israel and the Holocaust. By making the art public and accessible, Dershowitz hopes people of all backgrounds will enjoy the art, and learn from it.
“These murals are very much for everyone to enjoy,” he said. “For the most part, they’re not geared towards the Jewish community as much as they’re geared towards a younger demographic, regardless of their religion or cultural heritage.”
Since its foundation in 2009, Artists 4 Israel’s principal mission has been to bring diverse groups of graffiti, street and mural artists to Israel to create projects that “benefit people in a direct, on-the-ground way,” such as painting murals in hospitals, bomb shelters and army bases. The organization has worked with more than 5,000 professional and amateur artists from 32 countries around the world, according to its website.
“When [the artists] come back [from Israel], they’re able to talk about the country and they’re able to speak about the Jewish people and be a window into the reality of Israel in the Middle East to their millions of followers,” Dershowitz explained.
In 2020, when COVID-19 arrived and international travel halted, the organization switched gears and started bringing their advocacy to cities around the world with the “Righteous Among the Nations” project.
For the artist Romero, the work has been especially gratifying. The 44 year-old artist has been involved with Artists 4 Israel since its inception and has visited Israel three times, painting murals for battered women’s shelters, community shelters and army bases.
“I’m creating art with purpose, which is beautiful. I’m also creating a dialogue. There’s a conversation,” Romero said. “This is one of those murals that touches home and it makes you really feel good. It is art that just separates itself from a lot of the noise out there.”
Painted over the course of two days, the mural will remain on the downtown corner for the next nine months.
At the unveiling party last month, which included a performance by singer Neshama Carlebach and blessings led by Rabbi Menachem Creditor, Baranski’s son Tibor Jr. retold his father’s story and emphasized the strong Catholic faith that guided him.
“Tibor Baranski was the merger of intellect and faith,” said his son, who drove from Buffalo for the event. “My father’s deeply held belief in God was uncompromising. It was the core driver in his saving thousands of innocent Jewish lives in 1944 in Nazi-occupied Hungary.”
“I will quote my father since his words captured the essence of our Catholic faith and what this mural that Fernando painted commemorating him represents: ‘Love each other, love each other sincerely. God is love. Love destroys hatred,’” he added.
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In ‘Something We Said,’ Richard Pryor’s daughter finds words to discuss the unspeakable
Elizabeth Stordeur Pryor didn’t set out to write a memoir. A professor of history at Smith College with a focus on race, she had published an article on the etymology of the n-word in 2016 and wanted to continue her work in a book. But as she began to explore the word’s history in America, it became clear there would be no way to tackle the issue without writing about her father Richard Pryor.
“Why I make the connection between me and my father isn’t simply because he was famous, but because he put the n-word on the pop culture map,” Pryor told me in an interview, adding that he specifically used “the Black version of the n-word in a subversive way in his comedy — and then a decade later disavowed it.”
Richard Pryor was one of the first Black comedians to use the n-word on stage and he did so boldly, in a way no Black performer really had. He embraced it as a way to assert his identity and as a way to mock white racism. He used it to connect him to his Black audience who could understand the jokes he made about racial trauma in America in a way non-Black audiences couldn’t. The n-word, Pryor writes, was a staple in many of her father’s jokes, was featured in the title of two of his most famous comedy albums, and became his “comedic trademark.” But after he traveled to Kenya in the 1980s, Richard Pryor had a revelation about race and stopped using it.

In her new book Something We Said, Pryor, the daughter of the legendary comedian and actor and his first serious white (and Jewish) girlfriend Maxine, skillfully traces her relationship with her father as she was growing up, her relationship to the n-word as a professor of Black history, and the story of the n-word in America. It starts in the 2010s, when a white student said the n-word in one of Pryor’s classes, then rewinds to the beginning of her relationship with her father, who she met for the first time when she was six years old in 1974. The book toggles between the timelines over the course of its 265 pages. Interspersed are what Pryor labels “Interludes,” which track the history of the n-word from the American slave trade to the modern day.
The history of the n-word is far more complex than most people know — and, Pryor reveals, so was her father. He had both a tender and tough side, he could be closed off and also incredibly giving. Although he often presented himself with an impenetrable confidence and swagger, he could never stand up to his domineering grandmother, who he saw pimp out his mom.
The book challenges people’s knee-jerk reactions to the word and discusses the duality of its significance, how it is a word with a hate-filled past that has also been a signal of solidarity. And its reclamation by Black Americans isn’t a new phenomenon. Pryor traces it all the way back to the era of American slavery, including in a work song about a Black folk hero.
Pryor noted that there’s a tendency to “blame artists like my father and of course, hip hop” for the popularity of the n-word among African-Americans today, but pointed to its politically subversive nature as the source of its endurance in the Black community.
Pryor said she hopes the book will help people “understand that the n-word isn’t just part of a national trauma, like a relic of our past as a nation” but that “it causes these really intimate wounds and becomes a really personal trauma that’s worth exploring and talking about.”
Writing something that is simultaneously deeply personal and intricately historical is not an easy feat — although Pryor’s time jumps feel effortless.
“Many of the things that happened to me were sort of locked in a little memory bubble,” Pryor said. “And I had only interacted with them as that 11 year old, as that 16 year old, as that 22 year old, and had not interacted with them again, as a mother and a wife and a professor, et cetera, as an adult.”
This digging provoked a lot of personal reflection. In one story in Something We Said, Pryor recounts being the only Black girl at a friend’s bat mitzvah in the 80s. Trying to impress a boy and remembering how her father’s use of the n-word made people laugh, Pryor gave her friends permission to call her the n-word, a decision she quickly regretted.
“I had to do a lot of digging about, like, why did I do that? Like, why did I invite that even though I hated that word?”
This story captures the often inexplicable nature of navigating the complexity of race and belonging in America, something that can be complicated for anyone but especially someone of mixed-race heritage. Pryor also had to contend with being a minority in Jewish spaces.

“My mother had me in temple in like second and third grade as soon as we moved to LA and literally nobody there could figure it out,” Pryor said. “Like it was a math problem that was unfathomable. It was pi. Like they could not figure out how I was Black and Jewish.”
While Pryor includes many jaw-dropping stories from her life and from American history, what may baffle people the most is that until the 2010s, Pryor had never watched one of her father’s films or listened to any of his comedy records all the way through (she had kind of listened to one before was when she was a little girl and she fell asleep to it). She wrote that “not knowing my father as a public figure made me feel closer to him as a private man.”
She never went out of her way to make it known that she was Richard Pryor’s daughter. In 2016, during a talk she gave at Smith on the n-word, Pryor finally went public. I asked her how it felt to now be known as his daughter.
“I think I was surprised by how much I like it,” she told me with a laugh.
“I was always proud of my father,” she said. “I just was tired of people and their forward curiosity.”
“What’s happened, in some ways by coming out as his daughter has been so the opposite of that,” Pryor said. “I’ve heard how deeply he touched so many people in a way that maybe I couldn’t hear it before, or I haven’t heard it before.”
Something We Said has given Pryor even more ways to connect with her father.
“One of the highlights for me about writing this book is the kind of healing that happened from it,” she said, noting that she felt closer to him than she “remembered feeling when he was alive.”
“When he died in 2005, I was like, ‘Wow, that’s it. That’s our story.’ And I just feel like it’s really powerful how the universe works, that that didn’t have to be our story, that our story continues.”
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In the race for Jerry Nadler’s seat, much talk on Israel but little disagreement
With U.S. aid to Israel and the wars in Gaza and Lebanon pressing for voters in many Democratic primaries, the race to succeed Rep. Jerrold Nadler in Manhattan stands out for the relative consensus among the leading candidates on Israel.
Nadler, who is retiring after 33 years in the House, represents a heavily Jewish district and served as the leading voice in Congress for liberal Jews, making the choice of his successor a significant one nationally.
During a televised debate on Thursday between top contenders, New York Assemblymembers Alex Bores and Micah Lasher, political scion Jack Schlossberg and attorney Goergie Conway spent more time sparring over super PAC money, artificial intelligence and Donald Trump than on the Middle East conflict.
The three largely shared a broad agreement on support for Israel. None embraced the characterisation of Israel’s military campaign in Gaza as a genocide. They all touted support for a two-state solution and backed continued U.S. funding for Israel’s Iron Dome missile defense system.
The contrast with other competitive Democratic primaries was striking. In congressional races in New York City and some others nationally, debates have been dominated by contentious exchanges over military aid to Israel, accusations of genocide and the growing influence of anti-AIPAC politics within the party. Earlier this week, Israel consumed a significant portion of the televised debate between Rep. Dan Goldman and former New York City Comptroller Brad Lander in a neighboring congressional district.
In another neighboring district, former Columbia University Gaza War encampment activist Daraliza Avila Chevalier is challenging Rep. Adriano Espaillat with his support for Israel front and center. And in a TV debate this week in the race to replace retiring Rep. Nydia Velazquez in Brooklyn, democratic socialist Assemblymember Claire Valdez — who like Lander and Avilla Chevalier has been endorsed by Mayor Zohran Mamdani — called Israel’s actions in Gaza “U.S.-funded genocide.”
The relative consensus in Nadler’s district reflects the politics of the district they hope to represent. Jewish voters make up an estimated 30% of the Democratic primary electorate, which stretches across Manhattan’s Upper East and Upper West sides.. When Nadler ran for reelection in 2022 after redistricting forced him to go head to head with Rep. Carolyn Maloney, he campaigned on the need to preserve Jewish representation from New York City in Congress.
The candidates themselves have close ties to the Jewish community. Lasher, Nadler’s endorsed successor, is Jewish. Schlossberg, a grandson of President John F. Kennedy, was raised Catholic by his mother, Caroline Kennedy, but identifies as Jewish. Bores’ wife, Darya Moldavskaya, is Jewish, and the couple are raising their son Jewish.
Another factor distinguishing the race from other Democratic primaries is the district’s political makeup.
In last year’s Democratic mayoral primary, New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani, an outspoken critic of Israel who rose to power by embracing pro-Palestinian activism, won handily in the Goldman and Espaillat districts, but the 12th District split almost evenly between Mamdani and former Gov. Andrew Cuomo. The candidates also took different approaches to Mamdani. Lasher and Bores did not endorse Mamdani until after he secured the Democratic nomination, mirroring Nadler’s own cautious approach. By contrast, Schlossberg endorsed Mamdani in the primary and has generally been the most critical in the field of Israeli government policies.
Mamdani, who resides in Gracie Mansion in the district, has said he won’t endorse in the race, but intends to cast a ballot. In Thursday’s debate, the candidates gave Mamdani A- and B grades.
Polling suggests the race remains highly competitive. A recent Emerson College survey showed Lasher with a slim advantage over Bores, while Schlossberg and Conway trailed behind. But most significantly, 32% of likely voters had yet to make up their minds.
In an online poll of 700 debate viewers by host PIX11, 42% said Bores won the debate, compared with 33% for Lasher and 24% for Schlossberg.
The leading candidates
Micah Lasher, 44, enters the race with perhaps the deepest roots in New York politics. A longtime Democratic operative and protégé of Nadler, Lasher has assembled support from many of the district’s traditional political leaders.
Lasher started his public career as a special assistant to Nadler in 2007. He previously worked for former New York State Attorney General Eric Schneiderman, New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg and Gov. Kathy Hochul. At 17, he was an informal adviser to then-Assemblymember Scott Stringer, who is also Jewish. He is serving his first term in the State Assembly.
Growing up in the Upper West Side, Lasher first gained attention as a magician.
His campaign reflects continuity with the brand of liberal Zionism long represented by Nadler, co-chair of the Congressional Jewish Caucus: support for Israel’s security, opposition to Benjamin Netanyahu’s government and a commitment to a two-state solution.
Alex Bores, 35, has emerged as the progressive coalition-builder trying to bridge fierce Israel critics and mainstream Jewish voters. He attracted support from organizations aligned with the Democratic Party’s left flank, such as the Bernie Sanders-aligned Our Revolution, New York Progressive Action Network and PSC-CUNY, despite describing himself as a Zionist supporter of Israel.
Bores, a former Palantir data scientist, also serves in the state Assembly. His congressional campaign has become a focal point of a major political proxy war over the regulation of AI.
Some Jewish leaders have expressed concern over how Bores would align with the groups who backed him in Congress, as tensions between progressive activists and Zionist organizations continue to grow. Bores also faced scrutiny over social media posts of his father, William, some equating between Nazis and Zionists. Bores told Jewish Insider he disagrees with his father’s views.
Jack Schlossberg, 33, has become the race’s most recognizable figure because of his family name and social media presence. He has touted the younger generation’s voice wrestling publicly with questions of Jewish identity and Israel.
Raised Catholic but identifying as Jewish through his father, Schlossberg frequently references his Jewish heritage when discussing Israel and antisemitism. At the same time, he has adopted positions that place him to the left of many Jewish organizations, particularly his support for halting transfers of offensive weapons to Israel.
Schlossberg repeatedly shares that contrast on X as he challenges his rivals on Israel policy.
The online influencer turned political candidate made Jewish security a central pillar of his campaign. He said that if elected, he would immediately introduce legislation to nearly double federal funding for security upgrades at synagogues and other Jewish institutions.
Their views on U.S. military assistance for Israel
At Thursday’s debate, as previously, the leading candidates voiced support for funding Israel’s Iron Dome missile defense system amid growing calls for ending all U.S. aid to Israel.
Arms sales and aid for offensive weapons represented the clearest divide among the candidates.
Lasher said he’d support certain conditions on military aid in accordance with the Leahy laws, which enable the State Department to prohibit military aid to foreign countries when there is credible evidence that they have committed gross human rights violations.
Bores said he’d “strengthen those laws significantly” so they apply equally to Israel, Saudi Arabia and Egypt.
Schlossberg, however, said he would support Democratic efforts to block transfers of 1,000-pound bombs and oppose the sale of bulldozers that could be used for demolitions in Gaza or the occupied West Bank. He went on to accuse his rivals of lacking the “courage” to challenge the status quo.
“The Leahy laws give Donald Trump and Marco Rubio full discretion over what constitutes a humanitarian crime,” Schlossberg said. “I’m not comfortable passing the buck to them, and I think the candidates on this stage should be strong enough and have enough courage to actually answer the question.”
The war in Gaza
All three candidates voiced criticism of Israel’s handling of the war in Gaza, citing the dire humanitarian situation and the civilian death toll. However, when asked whether Israel’s actions in Gaza constitute genocide, they declined to use the term.
Lasher maintained that the debate over definitions often “does more to divide people of good faith than it does to find common ground. He called the killing of tens of thousands of people in Gaza “horrific,” while emphasizing the need to recognize the loss of civilian life.
Bores similarly said he’s “not comfortable” using that word “because of the high intent threshold that is required as part of it.” He said that while there are ongoing international investigations, the United States should focus on ending atrocities and expanding humanitarian aid.
Schlossberg also stopped short of calling the war genocide, though he delivered the sharpest criticism of Israel’s military conduct. “Israel had every right to defend itself following Oct. 7, but what has happened since then has gone above and beyond,” Schlossberg said. He added that the more important question was what policymakers would do next, pointing to his position on halting offensive weapon transfers.
Conway, a former Never-Trump Republican who is running on a platform to impeach President Donald Trump, said that while Israel ”did too much” in the name of self-defense, I don’t think it meets the threshold of genocide … and I don’t believe that we should abandon Israel as an ally.”
The debate followed a candidate forum Wednesday at which the candidates spoke at greater length about their attachment to Israel, support for a settlement between Israel and the Palestinians, and their opposition to Netanyahu.
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A Hasidic wedding entertainer tries to keep up with the times — if his ego will let him
When Israeli director Gidi Dar made his film Ushpizin in 2004, it was one of the first pieces of Israeli media to humanize the Hasidic community for a secular audience. Now, more than 20 years later, during which he focused on his music and other film projects, he’s returned to the Hasidic world with The Wedding Entertainer (The Tale of Moishe Badhan), a humorous and heartfelt look at Hasidic wedding performers.
In an interview, Dar told me he had thought he was done with movies about Hasids. But when his friend Shruli Rand, the lead actor in Ushpizin and co-writer of Dar’s animated film Legend of Destruction, told him about badhans — professional wedding entertainers who have a history dating back to the Talmudic age — they quickly came up with a story.
“I’m always looking to connect to my heritage, to my tradition,” Dar said. “I’m not religious. I try to connect to the narrative, to the history of our storytelling.”
Moishe Striker, played by Rand, is a formerly famous badhan in Jerusalem who has been struggling to find work due to his alcoholism. When his daughter becomes set on getting married, Moishe has to find a way to raise the money for the wedding. Luckily, his wealthy childhood friend is about to marry his son to the daughter of an Israeli tea mogul.
The American-raised son is set on having flashy wedding entertainer Mehsulem Kaliker, played by comedian Elon Gold. But Moishe and his crafty kabbalah-practicing daughter find a way to get Moishe involved, hoping to reestablish his reputation, with a little help from kabbalah — and blackmail.
The story, co-developed by Dar and Rand, teeters between being a lighthearted farcical comedy and a drama about unfulfilled potential. Moishe’s ambition causes him to take comically big swings but also pushes him towards self-destruction. It’s not just the alcoholism he has to keep under control, which is hard to do in a community that celebrates almost every occasion by drinking, but his own ego.
The film fully immerses viewers in the Hasidic world — not one character is from outside of the community. The actors also speak Yiddish, which two of the actors — both ex-Hasids — knew already; Rand and his wife — who plays his wife in the movie — had to learn.
Although the tension in the film is between an Israeli and an American badhan, Dar explained that the conflict is really between old traditions and modern trends.

According to Dar, the badhan traditions Moishe uses originated in the shtetls of Eastern Europe in the 18th century and 19th centuries.
Meshulem doesn’t rely on old fashioned jokes and songs set to Klezmer music like Moishe does; he performs with backup singers, strobe lights, and a blaring electronic-dance music soundtrack. His style fits with that of the groom, who is first seen in Jerusalem with his tallit hanging down from under a designer hoodie.
Traditional badhans may not be flashy, but Dar believes they hold an important spot in Jewish culture.
“I think they’re in a way the origin of Jewish humor,” Dar said. “This specific humor, as we know it, is coming from this era of the diaspora, the late era of the diaspora, of the shtetls, and those who carried it were those badhans.”
Dar hopes this film, like Ushpizin, will help secular Jews connect with their Hasidic neighbors.
“The relationship between the Hasidic and the secular in Israel is very harsh,” Dar told me, but noted that cinema can create empathy. “You do identify with those people once you get in.”
Although The Wedding Entertainer depicts a culturally specific custom, Dar thinks the message is “something far more universal.”
“It deals with the limelight and with the desire for an audience for your art, as a comedian, as an actor,” Dar said. “And what are you willing to do for that? How far would you go?”
The Wedding Entertainer (The Tale of Moishe Badhan) will be screening at the Tribeca Film Festival on June 7 and June 14.
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