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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.
—
The post Bosnian Jews mourn Moris Albahari, one of Sarajevo’s last Ladino speakers appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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How Michigan’s Senate race is testing pro-Israel Jews’ loyalty to the Democratic Party
(JTA) — Joel Tauber has been through many an election in his 92 years. And, with the exception of “one out of 100 times,” he’s always backed a Democrat — something even more important in the current midterm cycle, he believes.
“Winning the Senate and the House is the beginning of a way back to our democracy,” Tauber, a founding chair of Jewish Federations of North America who has hosted former President Bill Clinton and other Democratic leaders, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “It’s really, really important to me.”
But Tauber is a Michigan resident, and the state’s upcoming U.S. Senate primary is making him deeply uneasy. Like many a Jew in the mitten state, he is pulling for pro-Israel centrist U.S. Rep. Haley Stevens to win on Aug. 4.
Should her opponent, former county health official and staunch Israel critic Abdul El-Sayed, prevail instead, Tauber would take a step he’s said he’s never done before: leave the Senate ballot blank.
“I’d sit it out,” he said, of the general election. Of El-Sayed, he said, “There’s no way that I could vote for him.”
Some Jewish Democratic leaders in the state are prepared to go even further. Several prominent Metro Detroit Jews who have traditionally fundraised for Democrats are also planning fundraisers for the presumptive GOP nominee, former U.S. Rep. Mike Rogers, as a “hedge.” Others are planning to help him if El-Sayed wins the Democratic nomination, one Jew who is close to the Stevens campaign told JTA.
Others affirmed the idea that the Jewish Democratic donor class, feeling abandoned by the party, would back Rogers.
“There are leaders in our Jewish community who are longtime, lifelong Democrats and Democratic fundraisers, who are very concerned with where their party’s going,” said Dennis Bernard, national chair of government relations for the nonpartisan JFNA and a metro Detroit resident. “And if this is the case, they’ve made it clear, both financially and with their vote, that they would support Mike Rogers in the event El-Sayed wins the primary.”
Detroit-area Jewish Democrats have asked Bernard, over golf outings, for introductions to Rogers, he said.
The reason: They see El-Sayed — who has questioned whether Israel should be a Jewish state and suggested that Democrats who support Israel only do so because of financial motives — as portending an existential threat to the national Jewish community. If he wins in a purple state, one in which pro-Israel Jews have for years butted heads U.S. Rep. Rashida Tlaib, the pro-Palestinian Democrat, some fear more candidates with similar views will follow, and lead to an unsafe environment for Jews in Michigan and beyond. They worry that increasingly hostile discourse creates an environment in which antisemitic harassment becomes more acceptable and Jewish political activism is considered suspect.
“This is a truly once-in-a-lifetime moment where you have to become a single-issue voter,” Bernard said. “And that issue is antisemitism, our Judaism and Israel. This is where you put party third: our people first, our country second.”
Left-wing congressional primary wins in New York, Colorado and other states have stoked anxiety over the Senate race here, as Michigan — also home to a large Arab/Muslim population — is morphing into a litmus test for the relationship between pro-Israel Jews and the Democratic Party. For the majority of American Jews who back liberal policies, a decades-long bond is being tested like never before.
A similar dynamic played out on a smaller scale after Zohran Mamdani, a vocal anti-Zionist, secured the Democratic nomination in New York City’s 2025 mayoral election. Then, several prominent Jewish donors backed a rival bid by former Gov. Andrew Cuomo, who ran as an independent while maintaining Democratic ties. Despite recent polling showing that 44% of American Jews hold a favorable opinion of the mayor — a higher favorability score than Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu — pro-Israel voters still regard his pro-Palestinian rhetoric as disquieting.
The backlash against Israel’s handling of the war in Gaza and growing calls to shun the pro-Israel lobby AIPAC are further straining Jewish-Democratic bonds — and, for some of the most influential of Michigan’s estimated 129,000 Jews, are on the verge of breaking them.
Another Jewish leader told JTA there was also an effort underway to convince pro-Israel Republicans to vote for Stevens in the state’s open primary, even if they decide to later vote for Rogers in the general.
“Anyone who cares about the future of the U.S.-Israel relationship, Democrat or Republican, needs to vote for Haley Stevens in the Democratic primary,” they said, requesting anonymity because they did not want to be seen as speaking for the community. The Republican Party is currently engaged in its own tug-of-war over Israel and antisemitism, with Vice President JD Vance recently criticizing Israel while entertaining conspiracy theories about its ties to Jeffrey Epstein on a popular podcast.
When contacted by JTA, Halie Soifer, CEO of the Jewish Democratic Council of America (which is phone-banking for Stevens) and a native of East Lansing, Michigan, declined to comment directly on the possibility of the state’s Jewish Democrats backing Rogers over El-Sayed.
“Our focus is ensuring Haley Stevens wins the primary election,” Soifer said in a statement, also saying that El-Sayed’s “views are not aligned with the vast majority of Jewish Americans.”
At Michigan’s Democratic convention earlier this year in Detroit, Stevens was booed by the rank and file while state Sen. Mallory McMorrow, who was then also running for the seat, alleged that an attendee directed an antisemitic remark at her Jewish husband. At the same convention a lawyer for pro-Palestinian encampment participants, who himself had a history of social media posts supporting Hezbollah and retweeting antisemitic conspiracy theories from far-right podcaster Candace Owens, ousted a pro-Israel Jewish incumbent for the party’s nomination for University of Michigan board of regents, a statewide elected position.
The convention was an inflection point for many top Jewish Democratic supporters. Many of these Jewish leaders declined to comment to JTA. Others said much of the enthusiasm for the broader party goals among the staunchly pro-Israel Jews of the Detroit suburbs has been drained.
“I’m feeling kind of confused, and it must be how my Republican friends felt once the Tea Party took over,” said Neil Gorosh, a retired commercial mortgage banker in West Bloomfield and past president of a local Jewish senior living community.
Gorosh ran for office once: a local parks-and-recreation position in 1988. A Democrat during the George H.W. Bush-led GOP wave, he lost. Since then, he said, he has always backed Democrats while developing an elections calculus: He leads with local issues on local races, but Israel on contests of national import.
Accusing the Democrats of “completely rejecting Israel,” he added, “I’m rudderless right now.”
“If it came down to Mike Rogers and El-Sayed, I will vote for Mike Rogers,” Gorosh said. “I wouldn’t write a check, but I would vote for him, and I would tell my like-minded friends to do the same, and the reasons why.”
Michelle “Decky” Alexander, the Michigan Jewish Democratic caucus chair, was one of a very few Jewish leaders who told JTA on the record she would back El-Sayed over Rogers. She insists that there are many others.
“This is what I’ve heard from Jews, even in Detroit: The Supreme Court is too critical to not support a Democrat,” she said.
Alexander recently had an hours-long sitdown with El-Sayed, she said, and believes “he absolutely would be open to dialogue.” In his rallies, the candidate has welcomed Jews and stated, “AIPAC and Israel are not the same as Judaism and the Jewish people.”
For now, though, the focus is purely on Stevens, who is not herself Jewish but represents a large slab of Oakland County — affluent, heavily Jewish Detroit suburbs that have trended liberal over the last few election cycles after formerly electing Republicans. While the Stevens campaign has not responded to interview requests for JTA, she recently told The New York Times that Israel is not a central issue for her and added, “I am not a Netanyahu apologist.”
The congresswoman’s Jewish backers are hoping to drive a strong enough voter turnout to neuter both El-Sayed and the national progressive insurgent movement he represents. (The Democratic Socialists of America are behind many of the emerging candidates, though El-Sayed himself is not a member of the group and has distanced himself from the socialist label.)
Stevens’ supporters point to a growing number of encouraging signs, including endorsements from party leaders such as retiring Sen. Gary Peters, whose seat she hopes to fill. Chuck Schumer, the Jewish Senate majority leader, has also endorsed her. A recent poll commissioned by the Detroit News shows her ahead by seven points, though social media in recent days has been flooded with so many unflattering memes of Stevens on the campaign trail that El-Sayed himself denounced his supporters’ behavior.
Another Detroit News poll this week shows that most likely Democratic voters have a negative view of AIPAC, which according to an AdImpact analysis of the most recent filings has spent more than $28 million for Stevens to date. AIPAC’s support of Stevens is one of El-Sayed’s biggest attack lines. The candidate recently claimed that the group has spent more than $50 million against him, though a campaign representative told JTA that figure includes $20 million from new super PACs that have not disclosed their funding sources and have no immediately apparent links to AIPAC.
The Jewish Stevens supporters who spoke to JTA, some of whom are or have been AIPAC supporters themselves, argue that AIPAC has been unfairly demonized compared to other lobbying groups.
They also shrug off Stevens’ recent critiques of Netanyahu during a debate, at which she said the Israeli prime minister “is a danger to Jews in America and around the world.” Many of her backers chalked up the language to a new political reality for Democrats that rewards criticism of Israel, rather than a shift in her own thinking.
“It’s the needle Democrats have to thread to have any credibility path at all,” Gorosh said. Referring to Israel’s own upcoming elections, he added, “I think he’ll [Netanyahu] be gone after October, but he’ll be gone eventually. Then what do you criticize?”
El-Sayed also has Jewish supporters, most notably former U.S. Rep. Andy Levin, a progressive member of a powerful Michigan political family who lost his House seat to Stevens after AIPAC spent heavily for her in 2022. There is also a Jews For Abdul affinity group.
Speaking to JTA, Levin dismissed concerns about Jewish Democrats rejecting El-Sayed in the general. He said the conversation was being dominated by hardline pro-Israel donors in the community who have pushed similar red lines for decades, rather than being a new shift from the Jewish mainstream.
“I do not take a backseat to any of these so-called ‘lifelong Democrats’ about self-determination for the Jewish people in the holy land, about fighting antisemitism at home and abroad,” he said. “I just have a different view of how we accomplish these things, and they do not have a monopoly in the Jewish community.”
Levin also defended El-Sayed’s record on Jewish issues, saying, “He is a strong advocate for Jewish safety here, in our community.”
For Jews who have long seen themselves as committed Democrats, the prospect of leaving the party is a tough sit. Tauber, for his part, says he still can’t bring himself to vote for any Republican “who is so controlled by Trump, who’s a man of immorality, no values.” (Rogers’ campaign touts his Trump endorsement, and the candidate has also backed Trump’s unfounded claims about election fraud in the state as well as supported the president’s holding up of an international bridge in Michigan. The candidate has also acknowledged antisemitism on the right.)
The Rogers campaign did not respond to a JTA request for comment.
The nationwide importance of this race and the Jewish vote was evident when New York state Republicans recently made an explicit appeal for Jewish Democrats, stating in a digital ad campaign that Jews were leaving the party “in droves” “from Maine to Michigan.” Before he dropped out last week as the Democratic Senate nominee in Maine over sexual assault allegations he has denied, Graham Platner put anti-Israel criticism near the center of his platform.
Some Jews who spoke to JTA comfort themselves by insisting that the House, at least, seems likely to flip, providing a check on Trump even if the Senate remains led by Republicans.
Shimon Levy, an Israeli-American entrepreneur who has lived in the Detroit area since 2014, said he was unconcerned about the prospect of Republicans keeping the Senate.
“F— that,” Levy told JTA. Levy has drifted between the parties over the years, he said, but “I stand and I lead with my Jewish identity. Safety and security of the Jewish community is my first and foremost goal.”
That wouldn’t be possible with El-Sayed on the ticket, he insisted: “El-Sayed has done nothing but put Jews at risk and in danger, and through his words has been so poisonous and has ostracized and villainized, single-handedly, the Jews of Southeast Michigan.”
He added, “If today, as a Jew, you’re still like, ‘Democratic all the way, Democratic down the ticket,’ you need to rethink your survivalist instinct.”
Recently Levy, who describes himself as a reluctant political activist, hosted a candidate meet-and-greet fundraiser that brought in more than $70,000 for Stevens. Attendees were not just Jewish, and not just Democrats. Republicans, too, showed up: “People who are concerned about common-sense politics, who would vote for Haley in a heartbeat.”
The question of how Jewish safety is linked to Israel discourse isn’t abstract in Michigan. West Bloomfield’s Temple Israel was the site of an attack this spring by a Michigan resident whose family members were killed when Israel targeted a Hezbollah outpost in Lebanon. The incident became a factor in the Senate campaign after El-Sayed said of the attacker, “Hurt people hurt people,” which critics felt minimized the crime and equated the attacker with his intended victims.
In late June, the temple itself — the largest Reform congregation in the country — sent an email to congregants stating, “This year, antisemitism is on the ballot.” Without naming candidates, the unsigned message concluded, “The Talmud reminds us that our leaders are chosen by us — silence is not a choice we can make right now.”
Mailers funded by AIPAC’s United Democracy Project and sent to some voters in Michigan, and circulated online, attacked El-Sayed for his friendship with left-wing streamer Hasan Piker and for his statement after the Temple Israel attack.
The mailers accused El-Sayed of having “rationalized a terrorist attack on a Michigan synagogue filled with Jewish children.” (The synagogue preschool was open at the time of the attack.) El-Sayed had condemned the attack, but the mailers accused him of equivocating.
This was not a total break with all Democrats, many emphasized. Jewish pro-Israel state Sen. Jeremy Moss, who is running for Stevens’ congressional seat, and gubernatorial candidate Jocelyn Benson, along with others, continue to receive high marks from the Jewish donor class.
Across Michigan, particularly in the Detroit area, there are (literal) signs of strain. Last month the Oakland County roads commission ordered the removal of Adopt-a-Road signs, located a few miles from Temple Israel, that had been sponsored by a group called “Voices for Palestinians” after temple members voiced objections. A Fourth of July parade in Huntington Woods, another heavily Jewish suburb in the county, was briefly disrupted by a protest after parade organizers had put in place rules forbidding pro-Palestinian signs from being displayed.
In early July the state Anti-Defamation League chapter, together with Temple Israel, hosted a bipartisan delegation of Michigan lawmakers on the site of the attack, and advocated for increased synagogue security funding. Sen. Elissa Slotkin, a Jewish Democrat, as well as Rep. Shri Thanedar, a Democrat who has tacked from the left to the center on Israel since his election and is now facing a primary challenger endorsed by El-Sayed, were among those in attendance.
Rabbis at the temple gave voice to the uneasiness of the political moment for Jewish liberals.
Rabbi Paul Yedwab, who called the state Democratic convention “a shonda,” or shame, in a recent sermon, said during the same sermon, “The glib answer would be to say, I guess you become a Republican. But that is not as easy as it seems for a liberal Jew.” He went on to criticize the Trump administration’s legal assault on the Southern Poverty Law Center, a monitor of far-right extremism.
Yedwab concluded, “From here on in, it will be incumbent upon us as Americans and as Jews to evaluate each proposal, each issue, each platform, and, indeed, each candidate according to our own independent set of values.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post How Michigan’s Senate race is testing pro-Israel Jews’ loyalty to the Democratic Party appeared first on The Forward.
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Aptly titled ‘The Darkest Light’ documentary wrestles with Shlomo Carlebach’s contradictions
One of the most influential rabbis of the last century, someone who brought tens of thousands of disaffected Jews closer to Judaism, who helped create Jewish spirituality as we know it today, and who wrote tunes so familiar that most people think they are hundreds years of old, was also, according to overwhelming evidence, a serial child molester who preyed on teenage girls who idolized him.
This is the impossible truth: that the same human being was a holy soul and a monster, a pioneering feminist and an abuser of girls, a person overflowing with love even for people he met on the street and yet so devoid of empathy that he was able to cause profound harm to dozens of young women and girls.
I am speaking, of course, of Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach.
This weekend marked the premiere of The Darkest Light, an aptly titled new film about Carlebach’s life, and about the ways his family, followers and community have wrestled with his profoundly contradictory legacy. The moral center of the film is one of Carlebach’s two daughters, Neshama, who was his musical and spiritual heir. It is heartbreaking to watch the many scenes of the two of them together, prior to his death (sudden, of a heart attack, on a plane set to leave LaGuardia Airport in 1994). She is so obviously in love with him, and he with her. If we didn’t know what was coming next, the videos would be achingly sacred and beautiful.
But we do know.
The revelations about Carlebach were first made public in a 1998 article in Lilith magazine, which, as I remember, was like an earthquake in the Jewish spiritual world. There had been whisperings of misconduct for years, but as the film and article emphasize, Carlebach was regarded by many as a saint, possessed of the ruach hakodesh, the holy spirit. And everyone knew that Carlebach was a loving, physical man — he hugged everybody. (I was hugged by him at the Yakar synagogue in Jerusalem in 1993. Charisma is real.) So, maybe some women felt uncomfortable; maybe he even crossed a line now and then. But he did so much good…
Only after his death did several women come forward — not with borderline stories of discomfort but accounts of sexual molestation and abuse. And more women followed.
In the subsequent 30 years, there has been a range of responses to these revelations. Some faithful continue to deny or minimize what Carlebach did. Others have banned Carlebach’s music from performance at synagogue. Wisely, director Simon Mendes does not take a particular stance on these questions, giving airtime to many of them. He even allows Carlebach’s defenders to insist, on camera, that nothing inappropriate ever took place and that theƒ women must be either confused or opportunistic or… something.
But it is Neshama Carlebach who is the film’s protagonist. As she tearfully explains, she was only 19 when her father died. She idolized him, and lost him in an instant. And so when the allegations came out, she stayed silent. How could the man she loved more than anyone in the world — a man also beloved by tens of thousands of devotees — also be such a monster? It was impossible, she relates, to comprehend.
Until the MeToo movement gained prominence in 2017. It was at that time that she, then a 43-year-old woman, realized she had to speak out, which she did in a series of articles and online posts accepting the survivors’ testimony of her father’s abuse. Also inspired by MeToo, many more women came forward with their own stories, and unlike 1998, society in general and the Jewish world in particular were more able to hear them. (Neshama Carlebach has published an essay about the film, which she said “approached an extraordinarily difficult story with compassion, courage and nuance.”)
How to respond? In the film, Rabbi Angela Buchdahl of New York’s Central Synagogue describes the painful process of introspection that the synagogue undertook, placing a one-year moratorium on using Carlebach tunes while they discussed internally what to do. (Perhaps surprisingly, the synagogue resumed singing them afterward.) I personally have been part of several such conversations.
While these debates are important and interesting, ultimately The Darkest Light is about the unknowable questions set forth above: how someone could be a spiritual genius and sexual abuser, a saint and among the worst kind of sinner.
There are hints that Carlebach himself wrestled with this dilemma. The film’s title is taken from an improvised homily in which Carlebach says that sometimes evildoers are better than those who claim to be righteous, because darkness never claims to be something it isn’t; it never claims to be light. But imagine, Carlebach continues, when the good turns out to be evil — that is the darkest light, darker even than darkness itself. It’s hard not to hear this as a kind of veiled confession.
The film also sets forth many of the relevant circumstances of Carlebach’s life. His family fled Germany in 1939, right before Hitler stopped Jewish refugees from leaving. One can only imagine the trauma he experienced. Next, Carlebach spent nearly 30 years in Orthodox Jewish environments, especially the Chabad-Lubavitch sect, in which men and women are strictly segregated and men are forbidden from even touching women or hearing their voices in song.
And then came the 60s. Carlebach was right in the center of the Summer of Love, founding his House of Love and Prayer in San Francisco in 1967. The film sympathetically describes what that might have been like: Suddenly, all the rules were canceled, and people were making love with one another in public. Carlebach was 42 at the time. He had lived a repressed life for decades, and now all was permitted.
Bob Dylan once wrote, “to live outside the law, you must be honest.”Inside a fixed legal system like traditional Jewish law, the rules are clear — Orthodox sexual abusers still break them, of course, but the boundaries are firmly set. But outside, you’re on your own. And Carlebach seemed to lack the inner resources to draw boundaries and live within them. In Kabbalistic language, he was all hesed, all lovingkindness, without boundary or limit.
That is dangerous. No matter how high the spiritual high may be, it must be accompanied by ethics, empathy, and remembering the humanity of the other. There is no experience of holiness that justifies harming another person, especially in such a grievous way.
I mentioned hugging Carlebach in 1993. While the experience was electrifying, I also remember feeling off — much as I felt in the presence of another eros-drenched, consent-challenged charismatic rabbi in the Jewish Renewal movement of the 2000s. The eros was overflowing, spilling out onto all of us. It was spiritual and sexual and charismatic — and, to me, a little bit nauseating as well. I am all for fusing spirituality and sexuality, and as a gay man, I’m fortunate to have lived a very full sensual life. But in these encounters, part of me wanted to run away. It felt like there was no consent, no boundary, no space.
This is not a specifically Jewish problem. When charismatic spiritual leaders infuse their teaching with erotic energy, there is a risk, it seems to me, that the energy takes over. Ethical considerations, rules of consent, even basic empathy, get drowned in the sea of sacred-sexual flow which is experienced subjectively by the guru. I have no idea what Carlebach was thinking or feeling when he reached under a large Jewish book on his lap to fondle the teenage girl he was “teaching.” But I’m not sure it was so separate from the spiritual-sexual Torah he gave over to legions of adoring fans. Maybe the two sides of Carlebach are less a contradiction than a continuum.
And then there are his most devoted followers, still venerating the smashed idol of Carlebach’s sainthood. One thing The Darkest Light does not explore is that this group of spiritual quasi-hippies overlaps with some of the most extreme religious nationalists in Israel. These are the people whose kids are conducting pogroms in the West Bank. And to be honest, I see a connection. Israel, like Carlebach, offers these spiritual “mad ones” (in Kerouac’s term) the real deal: actual spiritual energy, infused with love and community and holiness. Yet Israel, like Carlebach, also harms a lot of people — often at the hands of Carlebach-singing, weed-smoking ‘hippies’ themselves. In both cases, I see a group of enthusiasts whose very real spiritual ecstasy has blinded them to ethics — or to anything that would destroy their good vibes.
I have felt these vibes myself. I have prayed ecstatically with Hasidim in Jerusalem and on Mount Meron. I have hiked and camped in the nature of the Land of Israel from the Eilat mountains to the finger of the Galilee. Whatever it is, even if it’s just in our imagination, the experience of spiritual ‘energy’ is real. I can appreciate the yearning to keep it pure, holy, and free from defilement.
But that urge, itself, leads to injustice. There is no responsible spirituality without ethics. There is no moral eros without boundary. And if anyone defiled anything, it was Carlebach himself who did so, not his victims or his critics or his family. That truth may be hard to accept, but it is the truth.
In the end, Carlebach was not a god or a demon; he was a deeply beautiful and even more deeply broken human being with capacities for good and evil within him. He only had a lot more of each than most of us. And as another Jewish teacher of mine once told me, the greater the light… the greater the shadow.
The post Aptly titled ‘The Darkest Light’ documentary wrestles with Shlomo Carlebach’s contradictions appeared first on The Forward.
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Mamdani orders review of whether New York can arrest Netanyahu when he visits this fall
New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani has revived one of his most controversial election promises, raising once again the prospect of arresting Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu when he comes to New York in September for the United Nations General Assembly. It’s a move that legal experts say Mamdani is unlikely to be able to carry out.
In a video interview with The New York Times published Saturday, Mamdani said he ordered a review by the city’s Law Department to consider his options to comply with an International Criminal Court arrest warrant. “Whatever the law allows me to do in New York City, that’s what we will do. But we won’t be writing our own laws to that end,” Mamdani said, remarks that drew a strong online reaction.
In a post to social media on Sunday, Netanyahu’s office dismissed concerns of a possible arrest, calling the ICC a “kangaroo court” and saying that “Mamdani should focus on fixing the damage his policies have caused New York.” In an interview last week, Netanyahu said Mamdani “hates America.”
The United States does not recognize the court’s authority over American citizens or foreign nationals on U.S. soil, and the federal government could likely challenge the legitimacy of such an order.
Mamdani’s statement reflects the tension that has defined his first months in office: balancing the activist politics that propelled him to City Hall with the legal constraints and governing responsibilities of the mayor of the city with the largest Jewish population outside of Israel.
A political gift to Netanyahu
Mamdani’s actions could have unintended consequences abroad.
Former U.S. ambassador to Israel Dan Shapiro, who has frequently criticized Netanyahu, warned that even a failed attempt to arrest the prime minister would likely strengthen Netanyahu politically in a tough reelection bid, set for Oct. 27.
“Many Israelis are sick of him and hope to vote him out,” Shapiro wrote on X. “The only possible outcome of a fruitless attempt to arrest him in NYC would be to give him a political boost at home. That would be an own goal.”
Recent polls show that Netanyahu, seeking a seventh term in office, is trailing an opposition bloc led by two contenders — former Prime Minister Naftali Bennett and former IDF chief Gadi Eisenkot.
A confrontation with New York’s outspoken anti-Zionist mayor could allow Netanyahu to cast himself once again as Israel’s defender against international efforts to isolate and punish the country. Netanyahu already labeled Mamdani as someone who “champions” Hamas and “apologizes” for Iran.
That message could resonate even with Israelis who oppose him. American Jewish opinion illustrates the same complexity. While recent polling shows many American Jews view Netanyahu unfavorably, and that Mamdani is more popular with that group, that has not translated into support for an attempt to arrest Israel’s elected leader.
A Honan Strategy Group poll in December found that although 40% of New York City voters believed Mamdani had a moral obligation to uphold international human rights standards by ordering Netanyahu’s arrest, seven in 10 of the 131 Jewish respondents said doing so would damage New York’s global standing.
In the end, Mamdani may be able to avoid acting at all by pointing to the legal opinion that New York City lacks the authority to arrest Netanyahu.
The law is not on Mamdani’s side
The ICC, based in The Hague, issued arrest warrants in Nov. 2024 for Netanyahu, former Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant and Hamas military commander Mohammed Deif, accusing them of war crimes and crimes against humanity related to the Israel-Hamas war. Hamas confirmed in Jan. 2025 that Deif was assassinated in July 2024 by an Israeli strike on Gaza.
But even if Mamdani wanted to enforce the warrant, New York City has little authority to do so.
Because the United States is not a member of the International Criminal Court, the NYPD has no legal authority to arrest Netanyahu based on an ICC warrant. Last week, Secretary of State Marco Rubio launched a sweeping campaign of sanctions, visa bans and diplomatic pressure to “systematically disable” the ICC “brick by brick.”
U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Mike Waltz, in a post on X, also pointed to the 1947 U.N. Headquarters Agreement, which requires the United States to allow accredited foreign representatives to attend U.N. meetings, as well as the customary international law doctrine that grants immunity to sitting heads of government traveling on official business. Netanyahu would also arrive in New York under Secret Service protection afforded to foreign leaders.
Even carrying out such an order would appear unlikely.
Police Commissioner Jessica Tisch, who is Jewish, has repeatedly kept a distance from the mayor on Israel-related issues. Her public statements on Israel have been unequivocal. In June, Tisch served as grand marshal of the annual Celebrate Israel Parade, which Mamdani skipped. “I understand that for many of you, having a Jewish police commissioner is deeply comforting,” she told Jewish leaders in May.
Mamdani’s foreign policy reach has already been limited. Last month, the U.S. State Department blocked a planned meeting between Mamdani and Colombian President Gustavo Petro in New York, a fierce Israel critic, who had his visa revoked last fall after he appeared at a pro-Palestinian rally in Manhattan and was attending a UN Security Council session under strict terms. Earlier this month, the Trump administration stopped a meeting between Ana María Archila, Mamdani’s commissioner for international affairs, and Iran’s ambassador to the United Nations.
Why does Mamdani keep talking about it?
While the legal answer is largely settled, the political one is not.
By keeping the question open, Mamdani signals support to the pro-Palestinian movement that fueled his rise, while acknowledging the institutional limits of his office.
Targeting Netanyahu was central to Mamdani’s mayoral campaign. After leading chants of “Netanyahu, you can’t hide, we charge you with genocide,” during a protest in Oct. 2023, Mamdani first pledged to arrest Netanyahu shortly after he declared his candidacy. He later repeated the pledge, including in front of Jewish audiences, arguing that he did not want New York to be a place where leaders accused of war crimes felt welcome.
The approach follows a similar pattern Mamdani confronted with a politically charged issue earlier this year. As anti-Jewish incidents continue to make up a majority of reported hate crimes, the city considered placing buffer zones around houses of worship, spurred in part by a November protest outside the Park East Synagogue that included antisemitic slogans.
After expressing reservations about the legislation, Mamdani referred the bill to the city’s Law Department before ultimately allowing it to become law without his signature, only after the City Council passed it with a veto-proof majority.
Mamdani vetoed a companion bill that would potentially limit pro-Palestinian demonstrations, particularly on campuses. (The council later passed a modified version, and the state passed a 50-foot buffer zone bill that equally applies to all community centers and schools being used for services, education and religious observance across the state.)
Mamdani’s real test
Whether Mamdani’s careful balancing act satisfies either side may become clear when Netanyahu arrives in New York this September.
While the mayor cannot dictate U.S. foreign policy or enforce ICC warrants, City Hall still plays an important role in coordinating logistics, demonstrations and municipal services during the annual gathering of world leaders.
Mamdani can influence how unwelcoming New York feels to the Israeli leader.
The Israeli prime minister’s appearance at the United Nations is expected to draw massive demonstrations, putting City Hall’s handling of protests and policing under intense scrutiny.
History suggests that symbolism matters.
In 1995, Mayor Rudy Giuliani triggered a diplomatic dispute after ejecting Palestinian Authority President Yasser Arafat from a United Nations anniversary concert at Lincoln Center. President Bill Clinton, protesting the move, invited the Palestinian leader to a White House reception.
For all the attention given to Netanyahu’s return to New York, he may not arrive alone. During a White House meeting last year, Netanyahu laughed off the threat as “silly” and quipped that he might travel to New York “with President Trump.” Trump responded: “I’ll get him out.”
Now, that exchange may prove to have been less a joke than a preview of where the real power lies.
The post Mamdani orders review of whether New York can arrest Netanyahu when he visits this fall appeared first on The Forward.
