Uncategorized
Chabad women come together once a year in person. The rest of the time, there’s Instagram.
(JTA) — The first post on Rivky Hertzel’s Instagram account — which she and her husband signed up for last year ahead of a planned move to Zambia — depicts a classic Chabad activity: a mock matzah bake for children that the couple organized in Lusaka, the country’s capital, ahead of last Passover.
But like many Instagram posts, the cheerful photo didn’t exactly tell the whole story:
The kids’ chef hats were made out of paper, their aprons were made out of garbage bags, and their rolling pins were actually the detached handles of toilet plungers — wrapped in Saran Wrap — that Hertzel picked up on the fly at a local store when she realized she was short on baking supplies.
Only after the bake was done did Hertzel, 22, reveal the origins of the “rolling pins.” Much to her relief, the kids’ parents had a good laugh about it.
And months later, in a “Throwback Thursday” post, Hertzel shared a photo of the deconstructed toilet plungers themselves. The red ends of the plungers sat in rows next to the separated handles.
“What do you think we used the plungers for?” she wrote. One viewer responded, “Moshe’s staff.” Another wrote, “As a plunger:).” She then revealed that they were rolling pins, to her followers’ delight.
“I have friends in Alaska and in New York and anywhere else, and I think they were excited and kind of inspired by that,” Hertzel told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “When you’re living in New York, what are you thinking about Jewish kids in Africa? No one’s thinking about it. They were inspired by the lengths that we were willing to go to make a special Jewish experience for kids.”
Hertzel’s experience is an example of the increasingly significant and versatile role Instagram is playing in the lives of Chabad’s women emissaries, known as shluchos. Nearly 4,000 shluchos gathered this past weekend for a conference that concluded with a massive gala dinner at a New Jersey convention center. But during the rest of the year, many of the emissaries live without a robust local Orthodox support system, often taking the lead in organizing Jewish activities in far-flung locales with few, if any, other observant Jews.
To fill that gap, some have turned to Instagram as a vehicle to document both their work and personal lives. And as a younger generation of emissaries begins taking up posts around the world, the way they portray their Jewish outreach cuts across Instagram’s many vibes. Some stick to curating a beautiful photo grid, while others use the platform to broadcast the messier parts of raising a family while running a Jewish community. Some keep their accounts private, viewing social media primarily as a way to reach friends and relatives across the globe.
“There’s so many wonderful, beautiful things that social media can be used for,” said Chavie Bruk, the Chabad emissary in Bozeman, Montana. “The more we can talk about the day-to-day struggles and the day-to-day life and the not-glorified part about being a shlucha, I feel like it just creates community and comfort and support.”
Bruk, 38, has been on Instagram for about 10 years, and started using it regularly about three years ago. Her Instagram is a combination of colorful family photos on the permanent grid, and front-camera facing 24-hour stories where she “doesn’t sugarcoat things” about her life as parent to five adopted children, one of whom is Black and another has a seizure disorder, living in a mostly rural state with only 5,000 Jews.
On Wednesday, she posted a story about a blockage in the septic tank of her house, which is not connected to the city sewer system.
“This has been two days of trying to figure out where is the blockage and they cannot figure it out,” Bruk says in the video. “And we’ve tried everything. Which means we haven’t really been able to use a lot of water in the house. So now it means that we have to get a backhoe. We’re very lucky that our neighbor has one. So Montana!”
Until the blockage is found, Bruk says in the video, her family has to limit their consumption of water.
“I show up how I am,” Bruk told JTA. “Just because you’re doing something really awesome and just because you even love what you’re doing, doesn’t mean it’s not going to be hard.”
She added, “My parents’ generation, there wasn’t room for that. There wasn’t room for expressing hardship. I think [in] that generation, the shluchos were looked at as superhuman. They just were able to pull it all off without their hair being ruffled… We need to embrace that and really be like, ‘You know what? No. We’re shluchos, we do amazing things. We do things that are superhuman, but we’re not superhuman.’”
Other emissaries use Instagram as a way to broadcast a fashionable version of themselves in an effort to connect with young Jews. Emunah Wircberg, 31, a shlucha and director of a Philadelphia art gallery called Old City Jewish Arts Center, is also a fashion blogger. Wircberg and her husband Zalman primarily serve Jews in their 20s and 30s, and they usually meet at the gallery for art-themed social events, networking opportunities and chic Shabbat dinners.
Wirchberg’s Instagram is largely beige, black and white, showing off her modest style of silky skirts layered with chunky knits, oversized blazers and coats, and a variety of wide brim hats, all with a loose silhouette. Some of the photos are shot in Philadelphia and others are taken in Israel, posing in front of the iconic Jerusalem stone.
Wircberg also posts stylized pictures of her family life and Jewish ritual, such as shots of her family’s Purim costumes, Hanukkah and pre-Shabbat candle lighting. Some of them are inflected with Chabad teachings, including references to Chaya Mushka Schneerson, the wife of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the late Chabad leader known as the Rebbe.
Emunah Wircberg is a Chabad emissary and a modest fashion blogger. (Screenshots via Instagram)
With 20,000 followers, Wircberg’s friends have asked her why she doesn’t try to monetize the page, though she does include links to donate to local Jewish institutions. “I view my Instagram as part of my shluchos, so I don’t want it to be a place where I’m trying to make money,” she said.
Wircberg also posts videos of her Shabbat cooking — recounting one time when she accidentally used an unkosher mustard for a chicken that she had to throw out — and shares artist-centered events and other activities.
Wirchberg said she appreciates “every opportunity that you have to show your life as a shlucha, Chabad Hasidic woman.” She added, “Showing that to the world and showing that to your followers and connecting with them in that way is actually a really cool, great channel to be able to do that.”
Other shluchos shy away from using Instagram as a public platform. For Esther Hecht, the 26-year-old emissary in Auckland, New Zealand, making phone calls to her friends and family in England and the United States often feels like an impossible task — a distaste that, polling shows, she shares with other members of her generation.
Instead, she finds the asynchronous nature of social media to be a helpful alternative when it comes to catching up with people.
At the conference, in between speaking at the podium in front of the nearly 4,000 guests, she found herself handing out her phone to exchange social media handles. Asked why she focuses on the platforms, she said, “It keeps me connected.”
Esther Hecht, the shlucha for Auckland, New Zealand, speaks at the annual conference for Chabad women emissaries. (Courtesy of Chabad)
—
The post Chabad women come together once a year in person. The rest of the time, there’s Instagram. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
I gathered the data on Jewish fiction publishing. The trends are alarming.
(JTA) — In early 2023, I wrote a novel that was Jewish in every possible way. The lovers called each other “ahuvati” and “neshama sheli” — Hebrew for my love and my soul. There were scenes in Tel Aviv, family histories shaped by the Holocaust, a climax involving cancellation by left-wing antisemites, and an overall tone of aching sadness.
I was already a successful nonfiction author with two books that had sold more than 150,000 copies. I had a track record and a substantial online platform, And my new book garnered substantial interest. When I began querying fiction agents in early 2024, I received 20 requests for the full manuscript and four offers of representation in just six weeks.
But there were warning signs. One non-Jewish agent told me that my Jewish social media presence might make the book impossible to sell. “At least your characters aren’t Zionists,” she said. (My characters were obviously Zionists.) A Jewish agent gave me painful but pragmatic advice. She told me that I should probably remove all Jewish content in the book that didn’t directly drive the plot. Most painfully, she suggested that I change the name of a character named Yael. “It’s one of my favorite names,” she said. “But it’s Israeli.”
I signed with an agent who assured me that no such changes were necessary, and the novel went out to publishers.
It did not sell.
There are countless reasons a book may not be published. Taste is subjective. Editors carefully build their lists. Nobody is owed a book deal. And it remains entirely possible that my novel wasn’t as good as the agents thought it was.
But after I shared my experience online, Jewish writers began telling me stories that sounded unnervingly familiar. Authors whose expected book deals vanished. Writers whose agents could “no longer champion” their careers. Books that were bought for six figures before Oct. 7 but barely promoted afterward. Israeli agents with stacks of manuscripts that American publishers would not even consider.
For Jewish authors, perhaps the most visceral gut punch was a viral spreadsheet titled “Is your fav author a zionist???” It was a list of Jewish fiction authors, color-coded by how Zionist they were perceived to be, with a column detailing their purported transgression. The spreadsheet itself was eventually taken down, but the message sent to the industry was clear: If you work with Jewish authors, it will cost you.
Aware that even the staggering evidence I was amassing remained anecdotal, I wanted to find a way to track the impact of what was happening more empirically.
I turned to Publishers Marketplace, the leading industry database where many book deals are announced, and reviewed fiction deals for books by Jewish authors that publicly signaled Jewish or Israeli content. What I found was grim. Between 2023 and 2024, there was a 76% decline in fiction deal announcements to large presses that mentioned Jews, Judaism or Israel. The numbers improved somewhat in 2025, but they did not recover. Compared with 2023, announced sales of Jewish books were still down 47% at large presses.
And the early 2026 numbers are worse: Looking at what has been announced so far this year and annualizing the comparison, fiction deals mentioning Jewish content are down 82% at large presses compared with 2023.
Like all data sets, this one is imperfect. Not every book deal is announced on Publishers Marketplace, and not every announcement mentions Jewish content when a book contains it. It may be that agents and publishers are less willing than they once were to mention Jewish themes in deal announcements, despite the content of the books themselves.
But the data is the best we have for now. And if the problem is that Jewish content is something the industry feels that it needs to obscure when announcing deals, that is also a major problem.
Whatever the explanation, I found that there is no question that publicly announced fiction deals foregrounding Jewish themes dropped sharply after Oct. 7, and the decline appears to be worsening. This should alarm anyone who cares about Jewish literature, but also anyone who cares about the free exchange of ideas.
I am currently working with the Anti-Defamation League as it examines antisemitism in publishing. Part of my efforts have been to understand what’s happening on an individual level, because while data is important, it can only tell us so much.
As someone well connected in the Jewish literary scene, I reached out on social media to ask people across the industry to share their experiences. I expected a handful of messages. Instead, my inbox filled with accounts from published and unpublished authors, agents, editors, Big Five employees, audiobook performers and marketers. People from every part of the industry described specific patterns of exclusion around Jewish writers, Jewish stories and Israel-related material. These trends fit with what PEN America related at length last week in its report on Jewish and Israeli exclusion in publishing — a report that I believe held back from reckoning fairly and honestly with what Jewish authors are facing.
I had begun my investigation wondering whether my own novel simply wasn’t good enough. And the truth is, it may not be. But this isn’t about any one book. What we’re looking at is a broader pattern: Jewish stories have become professionally risky, while Israel-related material has become positively radioactive. Because of that, many institutions within publishing appear to be choosing silence over confrontation.
The stakes here are not simply professional disappointment for Jewish authors, or even the destruction of creative careers. For the Jewish community, the stakes are existential. If Jewish stories are not published, then part of the Jewish record goes missing.
As a people, text has been our portable homeland. We have used words to bind ourselves together, in argument and agreement, across generations. Sentences have tied Am Yisrael to Eretz Yisrael. Modern Zionism was argued into existence through pamphlets and speeches. Law, memory, argument, longing, testimony, jokes, recipes, grief, liturgy: we have always carried ourselves through history in words.
In the rabbinic telling of the Roman siege of Jerusalem, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s plea is: “Give me Yavneh and its sages.” He does not ask to save the temple or Jerusalem, but instead to save the Jewish people through the study of Torah. In the face of what could have been our obliteration, he helped usher in the era of Rabbinic Judaism by placing his faith in our texts.
In the Warsaw Ghetto, Emanuel Ringelblum and his fellow members of Oneg Shabbat secretly documented Jewish life under Nazi occupation. As the death vise of history tightened around them, they preserved Jewish testimony. And in 1949, just months after Israel’s War of Independence, S. Yizhar published “Khirbet Khizeh,” a novel documenting the moral complexity of 1948 in real time. He trusted his readers’ collective empathy and intellect, even while his new state was raw, precarious, traumatized and still fighting to understand herself.
Jews do not wait until history is finished with us. We write while the dust is still in our mouths.
But our stories don’t only serve as testimony to our pain. They are also about sex, food, family, money, mysticism, ambition, marriage, doubt, Israel, diaspora, bad decisions, holy arguments, vulgar jokes, longing, grief, pleasure, and survival. They are the record of people who are still here, still making art, still spinning stories in multiple languages.
It is true that many of our most lasting stories did not need a publishing house at all. But carrying those stories forward has always been collective work. If the institutions entrusted with publishing literature will not carry or promote Jewish stories, then Jews will have to build the institutions that will.
While I still hope to publish my own novel one day, this stopped being about my manuscript a long time ago. What matters now is reenvisioning Jewish publishing as an act of peoplehood — one that we must all roll up our sleeves to make happen.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post I gathered the data on Jewish fiction publishing. The trends are alarming. appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
How a Trump attack on Jon Ossoff could fuel the first Jewish presidency
(JTA) — Jon Ossoff, the Jewish senator from Georgia and the focus of speculation about a 2028 run for the presidency, is prepared to be the target of an address Thursday night by President Donald Trump.
Ossoff told reporters that if Trump, as expected, questions his and Sen. Raphael Warnock’s 2021 election wins, then the president would be “calling Georgia voters illegitimate.”
Trump has repeatedly claimed without basis that his 2020 presidential election defeat in Georgia, and wins by Democrats Ossoff and Warnock in runoffs the following January, were rigged. He has deployed federal law enforcement to Georgia to search for evidence of fraud, even though repeated probes have uncovered nothing.
The speech comes as Ossoff has gained national attention for his repeated attacks on the president in his reelection bid against Trump-endorsed Rep. Mike Collins.
Ossoff’s battle with Trump could fuel buzz for his vying for the Democratic presidential nomination in 2028.
Ossoff has repeatedly denied interest in running for president this cycle. But Democratic pollster Adam Carlson imagined an excerpt from a “Former President Ossoff’s memoir in 2060.”
“I wasn’t planning on running for president. It was never an ambition of mine,” Carlson wrote on X, following initial reports that Trump’s address could come as soon as Monday. “Then Trump did that super weird address on July 13, 2026 and here we are.”
Ossoff, 39, were he to run and win, would be the first Jewish president of the United States, and his Jewish identity has crept into discussions about his potential candidacy.
He has drawn comparisons to Barack Obama, who said in 2006 that he “will not” run for president, two years before he did so successfully.
The buzz around Ossoff has largely focused on his sharp criticism of Trump, attracting some prominent left-wing figures. Progressives such as Gen Z commentator Jack Cocchiarella and Zohran Mamdani adviser Morris Katz have lauded Ossoff’s messaging.
Left-wing streamer Hasan Piker — a harsh Israel critic who has drawn allegations of antisemitism — said Ossoff “will be my dark horse pick, depending on how he presents himself if he has ambitions for higher office.”
One subject that Ossoff has largely steered clear of during his reelection campaign is Israel, a growing wedge issue among Democrats and a litmus test for democratic socialists like Piker. While multiple possible presidential candidates have sworn off the pro-Israel lobbying group AIPAC, Ossoff has not weighed in on the group.
Ossoff has positioned himself as an Israel supporter who opposes Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government. Just over a month after Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel, he referred to himself as a “pro-Israel Jewish American” in an address. He said he was praying for the Israeli hostages’ freedom and urges “mercy for the innocent civilians in Gaza.”
He has since voted to block some weapons sales to the country — along with an increasing number of Senate Democrats who have questioned military assistance to Israel as the war has devastated Gaza — while voting to allow the sale of defensive weapons. He wrote in July 2025 that “the United States must continue to support the Israeli people, who face the persistent threat of rocket and missile attack and have been subjected to intense aerial bombardment from Iran, Lebanon, and Yemen.”
Ossoff’s first vote against weapons in November 2024 spurred a critical open letter from several Georgia Jewish organizations including synagogues, Jewish schools, the local Anti-Defamation League chapter and other groups. His vote also drew the attention of AIPAC, which released 30-second ads attacking U.S. senators — including Ossoff — who had voted to block weapons sales.
Radio host Eric Messersmith said last month that, in an effort to win over a party that is divided on Israel, Ossoff “might be the Democrat that can thread the needle because even though he’s Jewish, he’s very critical of the Israeli government, very critical of Benjamin Netanyahu.”
“He has credibility on that issue, so it’s possible that I think he could fill that lane in between the two extremes of the Democratic party,” Messersmith said in a widely circulated conversation on CNN.
CNN’s Elex Michaelson drew criticism online when he added, “As a Jew, some people read a little more Jewish than other people, and Jon Ossoff may not read as Jewish as [Pennsylvania Gov.] Josh Shapiro does, for whatever’s that worth.” Michaelson later apologized.
Ossoff has deep ties to the local Jewish community, and has spoken about the impact of growing up around his uncle who was a Holocaust survivor.
Living among survivors “has a profound impact on how I view the State of Israel, recognizing that the State of Israel was established 75 years ago as Jews rebuilt in the ashes of the Holocaust, and sought to establish a secure homeland for the Jewish people,” Ossoff told the American Jewish Committee in May 2023.
The Georgia Democrat’s team reported that Ossoff raised an $20 million in the year’s second quarter, ending it with $42 million in cash on hand.
Jewish Insider reported that some Jewish Georgians are torn. Collins has faced accusations of antisemitism and having ties to the far right. Collins’ son-in-law is a white nationalist social media influencer who has shared antisemitic material and Nazi imagery, CNN reported on Thursday. Collins has said some of his own statements were misunderstood, and has defended himself by citing his support for Israel.
“Donald Trump’s handpicked candidate Mike Collins is a notorious bigot, antisemite, and extremist,” Ossoff posted on social media last month.
Ahead of Trump’s address, Ossoff said he expects the president “to use whatever he puts out there on Thursday as a pretext” to interfere in the November election, or “to lay the groundwork for challenging the result.”
The post How a Trump attack on Jon Ossoff could fuel the first Jewish presidency appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
In the wake of Graham Platner’s success (and fall), a candidate to replace him changes his mind about ‘genocide’
(JTA) — When Jordan Wood vied last fall for the Democratic nomination for Maine’s U.S. Senate seat, he avoided accusing Israel of genocide, citing a link between rising antisemitism and “the language” that people use.
Graham Platner, who went on to overwhelmingly win the nomination, did not stint on using the term. Platner is out after accusations of sexual assault, and Wood is once again running in the abbreviated primary to replace him. (Platner has denied the accusations.)
And now the former congressional staffer is changing his tune.
“I believe we can’t continue to fund Israel’s genocide in Gaza,” Wood wrote on social media last week. “It’s a moral atrocity. We should be using our taxpayer dollars to fund schools, healthcare, and childcare here at home, not on bombing innocent civilians.”
Last November, Wood said he was concerned the word was so loaded as to be dangerous. He told Democratic commentator Kaivan Shroff that he believed Israel has committed war crimes in Gaza, but stopped short of using the term genocide.
“I’ve hesitated on it because I’m also seeing a real rise in antisemitism in the United States,” Wood said then. “My husband is Jewish, and the acts of violence toward Jewish Americans is very much connected to the language that we use.”
It would be “a huge deal for the United States Congress to designate what’s going on in Gaza as a genocide officially,” Wood said
“There could be consequences to that of U.S. citizens that have served in the IDF,” he said. “Do they get prosecuted?”
Wood’s campaign did not respond to a request for comment on what prompted him to adopt the term.
The Maine Democratic Party has until July 27 to nominate a replacement for Platner, an anti-Israel progressive, in hopes of unseating GOP Sen. Susan Collins.
Wood, along with major candidates Troy Jackson, Nirav Shah and Shenna Bellows have all accused Israel of having committed genocide since launching their campaigns, underscoring the shrinking popularity of Israel among Democratic voters and their representatives in the wake of its war in Gaza – and perhaps noting Platner’s success in making Israel an issue in the race.
In an interview this week with The Advocate, Wood criticized the embattled Platner, while saying that he would “carry on that platform” that had energized Maine voters.
“I separate Graham, the movement, from the person,” Wood said. He pointed to issues like conditioning aid to Israel and rejecting corporate PAC and AIPAC money, as priorities that he shared with Platner.
Wood told Shroff in November that he would not take money from AIPAC, and added that there is a “huge amount of distrust” of the pro-Israel lobbying organization among Democratic voters.
“I believe the only way to truly prove to a voter that you are voting and prioritizing policies in their best interest, and for our country’s best interest, is to remove any perception of corruption or misdealing,” Wood said.
He has also been consistent in saying that he would vote in support of Bernie Sanders’ resolutions to block the sales of certain weapons to Israel, while maintaining that that shouldn’t mean halting the U.S.-Israel relationship altogether.
“The United States should absolutely have a cooperative relationship with Israel, and I want that relationship to work. But a real partnership is not a blank check,” Wood told Jewish Insider last week. “It comes with honesty and accountability. The United States has enormous leverage with the Israeli government, and we’ve been refusing to use it.”
Wood and a number of other candidates will participate in a televised debate on CNN on Thursday night, ahead of the July 27 nominating convention.
The post In the wake of Graham Platner’s success (and fall), a candidate to replace him changes his mind about ‘genocide’ appeared first on The Forward.

