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Inside the auction house driving the rare-book craze in the Orthodox world
(JTA) – Israel Mizrahi joined dozens of fellow connoisseurs of rare Jewish books last December to watch the livestream of Genazym, the hottest auction house in the market. A bookdealer by trade, Mizrahi was also on the phone being paid to advise a wealthy client who had signed up to make bids.
But as the auction proceeded, Mizrahi’s advice had little use. His trigger-happy client didn’t seem to care about established valuations: He ended up paying about $50,000 for a book estimated at half that price. “He just pressed the button and kept on bidding until the bidding was over,” Mizrahi said. “There was no convincing him out of it. He spent nearly $600,000 that day and there was no sense to it.”
Behavior that confounds veterans of the rare Jewish book market has become routine at auctions organized by Genazym.
Mizrahi recalled the sale in 2021 of a Passover Haggadah printed in the 1920s in Vienna. With attractive illustrations of a prominent 19th-century rabbi named Moses Sofer and his family, the book makes for a nice addition to a collection. It also happens to be very common.
“I sell copies for $100, and I have probably sold 150 copies in my life,” said Mizrahi, whose shop in Brooklyn is a mecca for Jewish book lovers. “It sold for about $5,500 at Genazym’s auction. I currently have it on sale still for $100.”
At the highest end of sale prices, a 16th-century first-edition Shulchan Aruch, a book of Jewish law, commanded $620,000 at a Genazym auction last September, while a copy of Noam Elimelech, a classic rabbinic treatise, printed in 1788, fetched $1.4 million four months later — in both cases at least doubling or tripling what experts thought the items were worth based on past sales of the same texts.
“Genazym has come on like a freight train into the world of Jewish auctions. Some of the prices realized are far beyond what this market has seen before,” said David Wachtel, the former Judaica consultant for Sotheby’s auction house.
Since Genazym’s first auction in 2017, it has sold some 1,900 books, manuscripts and other collectible documents for about $26 million plus commission, roughly $12 million above total starting prices, according to an analysis by the Jewish Telegraphic Agency of auction records on Genazym’s website. Genazym has increasingly outperformed the longest-standing Judaica auction firms in New York and Jerusalem.
A page from an illustrated Passover haggadah printed in Vienna in the 1920s. (Courtesy of Genazym)
It’s hard to tell exactly what’s driving the boom because the identity of Genazym’s customers is confidential and few flaunt their collections widely. One of the auction house’s owners, in a rare public comment, ventured that Jewish buyers are craving a connection with their heritage. What’s clear is that at a time when traditional libraries are cutting back on buying Jewish texts, Genazym is tapping into an emerging luxury market among Orthodox Jews — and fueling the rise of religious texts as both a status symbol and investment vehicle in some communities.
“I know the sellers, the customers and everybody involved and there is a new wealthy class of Orthodox Jews that have a limited range of things they can splurge on,” Mizrahi said. “They don’t go to Vegas, they don’t do crazy vacations. They keep kosher. So this is a way that they can splurge and show off.”
Rabbi Pini Dunner, who collects rare Jewish books, said investing in Judaica is likely attractive for some in the Hasidic community, whose religious observance is stricter than that of congregants at his Modern Orthodox synagogue in the Los Angeles area.
“There are people I know here in Beverly Hills who’ve got car collections worth tens of millions of dollars,” Dunner said. “In the Hasidic world that has no currency, just as the wow factor of a Picasso has no currency. An original manuscript or first-edition of the Noam Elimelech has a real wow factor, particularly if you can tell people the book sold for more than a million dollars at a Genazym auction.”
The impression that the Hasidic world has grown wealthier over the last decade or two is widespread and based, at least in part, on the proliferation of luxury products and services tailored for the community in places like Lakewood, New Jersey, and Kiryas Joel, New York. Weddings have become increasingly expensive and elaborate, fine dining options are common, and high-end kosher wine and liquor are more readily available.
“It wasn’t that long ago that sit-down dining was looked down upon or not even available. Now there are a plethora of options,” said Chaim Saiman, a law professor at Villanova University who studies the intersection of commerce and Jewish law. “It’s no secret that $200 bottles of Scotch appear at kiddush clubs all the time. $50 used to be a big deal, then $100 was a big deal, now we are at $200.”
Where the new wealth is coming from is not totally clear. Limited survey and U.S. Census data suggests that Orthodox Jews feel crunched by costs associated with practicing religion and that there are large pockets of poverty among them, particularly in Hasidic communities, according to Mark Trencher, the founder of Nishma Research, a nonprofit dedicated to studying the Orthodox Jewish community. The prevalence of large families also means that generational wealth can be harder to accrue for Orthodox Jews.
But there have always been high earners whose philanthropy has buttressed their communities, Trencher noted. “There are a lot of people in that community that are very successful in their businesses and they have large amounts of wealth,” he said. “Those people generally are huge donors to charities. From a financial perspective, those communities are probably doing much better than you would expect them to.”
Many of those high earners make their money through entrepreneurship rather than professional success in the white-collar world. Many nursing home chains — an industry valued at an estimated $171 billion and where growth is expected — have Orthodox owners. Amazon has also created new opportunities for Orthodox businessmen. Orthodox landlords, meanwhile, have benefited from skyrocketing real estate prices in places like Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
A page from a 16th-century first-edition Shulchan Aruch, a book of Jewish law, which fetched $620,000 at a Genazym auction. (Courtesy of Genazym).
Recent reporting in The New York Times about the Hasidic education system has provided a window into another stream of revenue for private businesses in the community. Entrepreneurs in the community have responded to the increased availability of government funding for special education in New York in recent years by establishing companies to service Hasidic schools, with the government footing the bill. In one example highlighted by the Times, a married Hasidic couple opened such a business in 2014 when they were 21 and 19 years old; in 2022, their company received more than $38 million in government funding.
The owners of another set of companies providing services to Hasidic schools appear to have used their windfall to purchase rare books through Genazym. The owners were indicted in January for allegedly billing the government for more than $1 million in childcare services that they never provided and otherwise defrauding the government out of more than $2.8 million.
Prosecutors are seeking to have the alleged fraudsters forfeit seven books and other documents as listed in a federal indictment. They include manuscripts with a rabbinic signature and rare books of blessing and Jewish law, all of which match items listed on Genazym auctions, where they sold for a total of about $274,000.
Buying Jewish texts at auction can seem like a savvy investment for buyers seeking to safeguard or grow their wealth. Before Genazym launched, a typical Genazym buyer might have invested in U.S. Treasury bills or the stock market, according to Wachtel, the former Sotheby’s consultant.
“I think Genazym has been able to convince people that this is a good vehicle for establishing and growing wealth,” he said. “That also dovetails with your ability to, let’s face it, show off. Somebody comes to your house, you can show them a first-edition Shulchan Aruch. But you’re not going to say, hey, come look at my T-bills.”
The auction house’s tactics appear tailor-made for this growing market. Its motto is “Own your heritage,” and it’s printed on the catalogs the company distributes through popular Orthodox magazines like Ami or Mishpacha or podcasts, places where people with no prior interest in books might encounter the hype. The catalogs also appear in synagogues in heavily Hasidic areas like Brooklyn or Lakewood, but without the prices printed on them so as not to violate a Jewish prohibition against discussing financial matters on Shabbat.
The descriptions in the catalogs emphasize any links that exist between the items for sale and notable rabbis from history, especially figures who established rabbinic dynasties that continue to exist today and who are revered by yeshiva-educated Orthodox Jews. The link might be a signature of a rabbi in a ledger from an old fundraising tour that took place 200 years ago. Or it might be that an important rabbi owned the book in question or even prayed out of it. Like a pair of pants of a prominent Israeli rabbi that drew widespread attention when they briefly went up for auction last month, these texts are seen by some as conferring holiness onto those who possess them. By virtue of their pedigree, these artifacts might even be seen as a segula, or Jewish protective charm.
In its promotional materials and live auctions, Genazym also uses more colloquial and hyperbolic language to describe its items than traditional auction houses, which tend to stick to the kind of terminology used by academic scholars.
“Genazym found a formula to make books and manuscripts really exciting for the layperson, especially in the Orthodox community,” said Yoel Finkelman, a former curator of the Judaica Collection at the National Library of Israel. “They are not using the vocabulary of experts, they’re using plain ordinary language, like ‘very old’ or ‘very rare.’ No one at Sotheby’s would ever refer even to a thousand-year-old book that way.”
Genazym’s unique approach extends to the delivery of items to buyers. A traditional buyer in the rare Jewish book market, like Michelle Margolis, Columbia University’s Jewish studies librarian, might only care that the book they bought is safely delivered. But with Genazym, the books come wrapped in a proper clamshell and velvet bag. “I rolled my eyes when my delivery arrived, but at the same time that’s a lot of investment,” Margolis said, adding that many other auction houses have been cutting costs, for example, by doing away with their customary printed catalogs.
Jacob Djmal, who lives in Brooklyn, has dabbled in Judaica collecting for many years, an interest he picked up from his grandfather. He remembers suddenly seeing Genazym’s advertising everywhere. “They started reaching out to you in every way possible, finding a demographic that wasn’t aware before. Every Genazym auction I have people texting me — ‘Did you hear about this? Did you hear about that?’ — as if something is happening that had never happened before.”
Sometimes, that is true. A breakout moment came during the December auction, when Genazym cleared $4.4 million in sales, about $2.6 million above total starting prices.
“If there was any doubt that Genazym were now the most commercially remarkable rare book auction house on Earth, the results of their latest Judaica auction this week put paid to that: essentially almost every lot sold for at least twice [the estimated amount],” a major British book collector living in France said on his anonymous Twitter account, which has around 110,000 followers, in December.
If there was any doubt that Genazym were now the most commercially remarkable rare book auction house on earth, the results of their latest Judaica auction this week put paid to that: essentially almost every lot sold for *at least* twice estimate…. 1/https://t.co/iAC4sQudIz pic.twitter.com/eeunjqWzAs
— Incunabula (@incunabula) December 13, 2022
It remains to be seen whether Genazym can challenge Sotheby’s Judaica division as the destination for sellers with the rarest and most valuable books. Last year, a medieval prayer book sold for $8.3 million at Sotheby’s and this year, the New York auction house is accepting bids for the oldest known copy of the Hebrew Bible, which is expected to fetch as much as $50 million.
But Djmal considers especially remarkable about Genazym is not just the high prices but also the way in which rare books have caught on among Orthodox youth as something cool. “My son and his friends in yeshiva are talking about these items,” Djmal said. “These books represent rabbis they have heard about from a young age.”
The team behind Genazym’s success is led by three brothers from the Stefansky family who live in Jerusalem and New York. Before starting an auction house they worked for many years as private dealers in the rare book market. Their names, Chaim, Moshe and Bezalel, rarely appear anywhere and they almost never grant interviews. Chaim Stefansky made an exception for the Jewish Telegraphic Agency and requested that this article not put him in the spotlight nor portray Genazym’s success as a product of his business acumen.
Stefansky said Genazym has tapped into a universal and deep-seated desire of people to strengthen their identities by connecting with the past. The Jewish community, he said, has been poorly served by an emphasis on historical and even current persecution.
“Always, we are victimized and we cry,” Stefansky said. “What we have in common maybe is that your grandmother and my grandmother were sharing the same bed in Auschwitz. Give me something positive of my past to be proud of. Your heritage has not only sorrow but also a happy, rich, and huge intellectual tradition. So Genazym comes and tells people about their heritage. It’s yours. It belongs to you.”
He said the same thing can be done with any ethnic or religious group.
“If you go to the Irish community and press the right buttons in terms of what you know that every Irish person is extremely proud of, I think you’ll be very successful,” Stefansky said.
He rejected the impression that Genazym’s buyers come primarily from the ranks of the nouveau riche in the Hasidic world.
“It’s coming from all sections,” Stefansky said. “People will say that there’s a lot of fresh money in the market. But we also have very good old money. We have institutions. And, also, the regular man. Mostly, the regular man, who never knew he could have access to any of this.”
One of the only customers who agreed to be identified and interviewed for this article is Rick Probstein, who says he’s spent more than $100,000 at the company’s auctions. He can’t remember when he started seeing Genazym catalogs but he had never collected Judaica before, which is perhaps surprising given that he’s an Orthodox Jew who’s been working in the collectibles business since he was a child trading baseball cards.
Today, at 53, Probstein is one of the largest sellers of sports collectibles in the world, operating through a dedicated account on eBay. “I run a humongous business — I am doing something like $160 million a year,” he said of his sales volume.
Probstein, who lives in Passaic, New Jersey, had long felt a pang of guilt about the lack of Jewish content in his collection. “I collect things but what do I have of my own heritage?” he recalled thinking to himself. “So when I started getting the catalogs, I said, ‘I gotta be a good Jew.’ I started bidding on things and I got really into it.”
Once Probstein got started, the Stefansky brothers began checking in on him, providing concierge service and cultivating him as a client.
“This is a boutique run by a Jewish family with a personal touch,” Probstein said “They call me on the phone, saying, ‘Rick, did you get the catalog? What did you think? Here are some items that you could really like.’”
Bidding on Genayzm items is not purely sentimental for Probstein. “I’m putting real money into it because I think that from an investment standpoint, it has a lot of upside,” he said.
Still, the items he buys tend to have personal significance.
“I am partial to items relating to the Chofetz Chaim,” Probstein said, referring to the rabbi and Jewish scholar Yisrael Meir Kagan, who died in 1933. Probstein’s oldest son is named Yisrael Meir in his honor. The Chofetz Chaim also appeals to Probstein because of his writings about lashon hara, the prohibition in Jewish law against speaking evil of people. “I think that speech is important and he’s sort of the embodiment of that,” Probstein said.
Genazym has sold six letters and a handwritten blessing signed or written by the Chofetz Chaim at prices ranging from about $16,000 to $68,000.
Ever since Probstein started collecting Judaica, these items have served as a draw for family and friends visiting his home.
“People in my community that come over for kiddush [refreshments after Shabbat service] know that I have this stuff and they always want to see it,” Probstein said. “Nobody ever looks at my sports memorabilia collection because it’s in my office but my Judaica stuff is in my house. They look at the letters and talk about the historical context. People love it.”
The revelation that so many Jews appear fascinated with their own history and want to engage with scholarly tradition comes at a time when many Jewish libraries have been struggling.
The library of the Jewish Theological Seminary in Manhattan, which has the most comprehensive and significant collection of Jewish books outside of Israel, has seen its footprint downsized amid budget cuts at the Conservative movement seminary. Also under financial pressure, American Jewish University was forced to sell its Bel Air campus in Los Angeles, which housed a library. Hebrew Union College, meanwhile, opted to end its Reform rabbinical training program in Cincinnati and even though the campus library has survived the cuts, financial uncertainty remains.
Genazym’s populist approach might hold lessons for Jewish institutions and university libraries with significant Judaica collections that hope to engage the public around books.
“The lesson is to lay off the snobbery a little bit,” said Finkelman, the former Judaica curator at the National Library of Israel, which is slated to reopen in a new and more accessible space later this year. “The goal of public institutions is to enable preservation but also to enable public access and public education. There are great stories in books and archives.”
Finkleman said he has encountered sneering reactions to the way Genazym promotes books, and they are similar to the response in the United States when the pop star Lizzo played a crystal flute that belonged to James Madison on stage at the Library of Congress.
“There are echoes of the same thing here,” he said. “Get out of the snobby ivory tower and realize you are preserving history for people.”
—
The post Inside the auction house driving the rare-book craze in the Orthodox world appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Antisemitism speech sparks pushback from Jewish conservatives
(JTA) — When Orit Arfa read political theorist Yoram Hazony’s recent comments on antisemitism on the American right, she decided that her past admiration for him no longer justified staying silent about what she sees as a moral failure.
Arfa, who served until last month as a spokesperson for Hazony, responded Thursday with a deeply personal essay in Tablet magazine titled “Yoram Hazony’s 15 Minutes.” She wrote about her departure after four years from the Edmund Burke Foundation, the organization Hazony founded that is an institutional hub of the national conservatism movement. In her essay, she accused Hazony of erasing work she and others did under his leadership and of publicly faulting Jewish institutions for failures she says he knowingly helped create.
“I have known and admired Yoram for many years,” Arfa wrote, praising his scholarship and describing his 2015 book on the Book of Esther as one of the most influential works in her intellectual life. “It’s with a heavy heart, then, that I feel compelled to set the record straight.”
An Israeli conservative intellectual, Hazony is one of the architects of national conservatism, arguing for a politics grounded in nationalism, religion and tradition. His ideas have gained influence among Republican politicians, donors and movement strategists, particularly within the wing of the party associated with figures like Vice President JD Vance.
Hazony’s influence has placed him at the center of a growing dispute on the Jewish right, as the movement he helped shape confronts allegations of antisemitism in its orbit. Hazony has declined requests for an interview from the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in recent months.
Because of Hazony’s prominence, Arfa’s break with him has resonated well beyond their personal history, highlighting a broader debate among Jewish conservatives over how to confront antisemitism when it comes not from political opponents, but from figures embedded in the American right.
That debate was thrust into the open after Hazony’s keynote speech earlier this week at the Second International Conference on Combating Antisemitism in Jerusalem, where he forcefully condemned antisemitic rhetoric aired on the program of conservative media figure Tucker Carlson. Hazony described Carlson’s show as a “circus of aggressive anti-Jewish propaganda,” listing familiar antisemitic tropes aired by guests.
“These aren’t normal political messages, disagreeing with other members of the Trump coalition on legitimate policy issues,” Hazony said. “They’re abusive, wild slanders, and their repeated appearance on Tucker’s show has persuaded almost every Jew I know that the program’s purpose is to drive Jews—along with tens of millions of Zionist Christians—out of the Trump coalition and out of the Republican party.”
At the same time, Hazony argued that Jewish and Christian Zionist activists had failed to persuade Republican leaders to distance themselves from Carlson — not because Carlson was too powerful, but because critics had not presented their case professionally. He mocked the absence of a concise, evidence-based “15-minute explainer video” that could persuade conservatives unfamiliar with Carlson’s program, calling this a sign of “extreme incompetence” by what he labeled the “antisemitism-industrial complex.”
That claim became the focal point of Arfa’s response.
“The truth, as Yoram well knows, is that there is such a video,” she wrote. According to Arfa, she and other Edmund Burke Foundation staff members worked with Hazony to produce exactly such an explainer — a 14-minute, 57-second compilation of examples of antisemitic rhetoric aired on Carlson’s program.
Hazony, she said, chose not to make it public.
“He kept it unlisted in an obscure account,” Arfa wrote, adding that she was “flabbergasted” to hear Hazony publicly insist no such work existed. “It saddens me that he would diminish the work of his dedicated employees by erasing our efforts.”
A spokesperson for Hazony did not immediately respond to a request for comment.
The dispute over Hazony’s speech has become a proxy for a larger argument about responsibility and strategy. Hazony is urging Jews to focus on building alliances with what he describes as the dominant nationalist wing of the Republican Party, arguing that moralistic confrontations risk alienating potential allies and entrenching antisemitism.
“What would you find if you actually invested the time and effort, and opened those doors?” Hazony said in his speech. “Mostly, you’d discover that nationalist Republicans are not anti-Semites. That they are strongly committed to having Jews in their coalition. That they would like to have closer relations with the Jewish community. That many of them see Israel as an inspiration and wish America were more like Israel. In short, you’d discover that most of them are potential friends and allies.”
Critics counter that this approach shifts responsibility away from political leaders who tolerate antisemitism. Several commentators on the right have argued that treating antisemitism as a communications problem, rather than a moral red line, risks normalizing it.
Tablet, where Arfa’s essay was published, issued an unusually scathing response on social media, accusing Hazony of effectively blaming Jews for their own marginalization.
In a post on X directly responding to a Hazony, Tablet wrote, “Tucker Carlson could goose-step down Pennsylvania Avenue butt-naked with a swastika carved into his forehead and it would be the fault of ‘the anti-semitism industrial complex’ for not making the case ‘clear enough’ to ‘Republican nationalists.’”
Tablet’s post added, “The fault doesn’t lie with the Jews for being targeted by political arsonists. It lies with those people themselves, and with those who have given them political and intellectual cover, yourself included.”
The post went on to accuse Hazony of importing European-style ethnonationalist ideas into an American context defined by constitutional liberalism and religious pluralism, warning that such thinking risked alienating both Jews and the broader electorate.
Others focused less on ideology than on political accountability. Max Abrahms, a political scientist who studies extremism and political violence, argued that Hazony’s framing functioned as a defense of powerful allies who have declined to distance themselves from Carlson.“I interpret this as a defense for your political allies, especially J.D. Vance and Kevin Roberts who won’t ditch Tucker,” Abrahms wrote.
A broader critique came from Saul Sadka, a conservative writer and analyst, who accused Hazony of minimizing antisemitism in service of what he considered a marginal political project. Writing on X, Sadka argued that Hazony mischaracterized the Republican Party, overstated the influence of nationalist conservatives, and pressured Jews to align themselves with forces that, he said, are both electorally weak and tolerant of antisemitic rhetoric.
For her part, Arfa,wrote in Tablet that she’d prefer to stay out of the conversation now that’s stopped working for Hazony. Her focus is on studying to become a rabbi at the Abraham Geiger College in Potsdam, Germany, a seminary affiliated with Reform and liberal Judaism.
The post Antisemitism speech sparks pushback from Jewish conservatives appeared first on The Forward.
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What’s missing in our Jewish high schools
ווען איך בין געווען אַ קינד אין די 1960ער און 70ער יאָרן זענען געווען גאָר ווייניק טאָגשולן פֿאַר ייִדישע קינדער. האָבן ס׳רובֿ משפּחות געשיקט די קינדער אין די עפֿנטלעכע שולן, און ווי אַ צוגאָב — אין אַ תּלמוד־תּורה אָדער ייִדישער נאָכמיטאָג־שול צו קריגן אַ ביסל ייִדישע בילדונג.
הײַנט זענען אָבער דאָ אַ סך ייִדישע טאָגשולן, פֿון פּראָגרעסיווע ביז חרדישע. אין דעם אַרטיקל וועל איך זיך קאָנצעטרירן אויף די מאָדערן־אָרטאָדאָקסישע מיטלשולן, כאָטש מע וואָלט עס געקענט אויך ווענדן אויף אַלע שולן וואָס שטרעבן אײַנצופֿלאַנצן אין די תּלמידים אַ טיפֿע פֿאַרבינדונג מיט זייערע ייִדישע וואָרצלען.
אין 2013 האָט דער „פּיו‟־פֿאָרום פּובליקירט די רעזולטאַטן פֿון אַן אַרומנעמיקער שטודיע וועגן די אַמעריקאַנער ייִדן, וואָס האָט באַוויזן, שוואַרץ אויף ווײַס, עטלעכע בפֿירושע טענדענצן אין דער אַמעריקאַנער ייִדישער קהילה. איינס פֿון די געפֿינסן איז געווען דער ממשותדיקער וווּקס פֿון דער אָרטאָדאָקסישער באַפֿעלקערונג, בפֿרט אין ניו־יאָרק און ניו־דזשערזי.
איין סיבה פֿאַרן וווּקס, האָבן די פֿאָרשער משער געווען, איז ווײַל 48% אָרטאָדאָקסישע ייִדן האָבן פֿיר אָדער מער קינדער, בעת בלויז 9% אַנדערע ייִדישע עלטערן האָבן גרויסע משפּחות. אַ צווייטע סיבה: 98% אָרטאָדאָקסישע ייִדן האָבן אַ ייִדישן מאַן אָדער פֿרוי, בעת בײַ די קאָנסערוואַטיווע ייִדן האָבן 73% אַ ייִדישן זיווג, און בײַ רעפֿאָרם־ייִדן — 50%. אַ קינד וואָס ווערט דערצויגן בײַ צוויי ייִדישע עלטערן וועט געוויינטלעך זיך גיכער אידענטפֿיצירן ווי אַ ייִד איידער איינס בײַ וועמען איינער פֿון די עלטערן איז נישט קיין ייִד.
דער פּועל־יוצא פֿון דעם אַלץ איז אַז די ייִדישע טאָגשולן און מיטלשולן, בפֿרט די אָרטאָדאָקסישע, האָבן הײַנט מער תּלמידים ווי זיי האָבן ווען אַ מאָל געהאַט. עלטערן פֿון די פֿרומע שולן האָפֿן אַז דורכן שיקן די קינדער אַהין וועלן זייערע קינדער קריגן אַ געראָטענע ייִדישע בילדונג און במילא פֿאַרבלײַבן פֿרומע ייִדישע קינדער.
נישט תּמיד אַרבעט זיך עס אָבער אויס אַזוי. הינטער די קוליסן שושקען זיך די עלטערן, לערער און שול־דירעקטאָרן — גיכער בײַ די מאָדערן־אָרטאָדאָקסישע מיטלשולן איידער בײַ די חרדישע — וועגן אַן אָנגעווייטיקטן ענין: נישט געקוקט אויף זייערע גרעסטע באַמיִונגען, גייען געוויסע גראַדואַנטן פֿון די מיטלשולן „אַראָפּ פֿון דרך‟; דאָס הייסט — זיי היטן מער נישט קיין פֿרום לעבן.
ווען איך רעד וועגן דעם ענין מיט נישט־רעליגיעזע מענטשן, סײַ ייִדן סײַ נישט־ייִדן, וועלן זיי אָפֿט קוועטשן מיט די אַקסלען און זאָגן: „וואָס איז דאָ דער חידוש? מיר וווינען אין אַ פֿרײַער געזעלשאַפֿט, וווּ קינדער קענען אויסקלײַבן זייער אייגענעם לעבן־שטייגער. אויב דאָס קינד איז צופֿרידן מיטן לעבן וואָס ער האָט פֿאַר זיך אויסגעקליבן, דאַרפֿן די עלטערן אויך זײַן צופֿרידן.‟
ענטפֿער איך זיי, אַז ווען עלטערן גלייבן שטאַרק אין אַ געוויסער אידעאָלאָגיע, איז נאַטירלעך אַז זיי וועלן אַנטוישט ווערן אויב זייער קינד וואַרפֿן עס אָפּ. אַ מאַמע וואָס איז, למשל, זייער איבערגעגעבן צו געוויסע פּראָגרעסיווע אידעאַלן, וואָס מאַרשירט מיט אירע פֿרײַנד אויף פּאָליטישע דעמאָנסטראַציעס און ברענגט אַפֿילו מיט איר קינד — וועט זיכער אַנטוישט ווערן אויב דאָס קינד שליסט זיך שפּעטער אָן אין דער רעפּובליקאַנער פּאַרטיי. בײַ איר וואָלט דאָס אויך געהייסן אַז ער איז „אַראָפּ פֿון דרך‟.
די סיבות פֿאַר וואָס אַ קינד פֿון אַ פֿרומער היים וואָלט פֿאַרלאָזט אַזאַ לעבן־שטייגער זענען אָפֿט זייער קאָמפּליצירטע און אַ רעזולטאַט פֿון עטלעכע פֿאַקטאָרן. דורך מײַנע אייגענע שמועסן מיט מיטלשול־גראַדואַנטן האָב איך אַנטדעקט פֿיר מעגלעכע סיבות דערפֿאַר:
- נאָכן גראַדויִרן, פֿאָרט דער סטודענט אַוועק שטודירן אין אַ סעקולערן קאָלעדזש און דאָרט דערפֿילט ער אַז דאָס רעליגיעזע לעבן האַלט אים אָפּ פֿון זיך אויסלעבן ווי אַ פֿרײַער פֿויגל (ענלעך צום ייִנגל וואָס באַשרײַבט די דערשטיקנדיקע ליבשאַפֿט פֿון דער מאַמען אין איציק מאַנגערס ליד, „אויפֿן וועג שטייט אַ בוים‟).
- ער אָדער זי גלייבט נישט אין גאָט און זעט דערפֿאַר נישט קיין זינען אין היטן די מיצוות.
- ער אָדער זי האָט געליטן פֿון אַן אומגליקלעך משפּחה־לעבן און האָט דערפֿאַר נעגאַטיווע אַסאָציאַציעס מיט דער משפּחה, אַרײַנגערעכנט איר פֿרומקייט,
- ער אָדער זי איז „גיי‟ (האָט ליב דעם זעלבן מין) און פֿילט זיך אַרויסגעשלאָסן פֿונעם פֿרומען ציבור צוליב דער תּורהס פֿאַרווערן אַזוינע באַציִונגען.
שטעלט זיך די פֿראַגע: איז דאָ עפּעס וואָס די מיטלשולן וואָלטן געקענט טאָן פֿאַר יענע תּלמידים איידער זיי פֿאַרלאָזן דאָס רעליגיעזע לעבן? אויב מע האָט שוין אויסגעפּרוּווט אַלע קירובֿ־מיטלען און עס העלפֿט ווײַטער נישט, זאָל מען זיך פּשוט אונטערגעבן? איך האַלט אַז ניין. יעדעס קינד וואָס גראַדויִרט פֿון אַ ייִדישער מיטלשול, וואָלט געדאַרפֿט אַרויסקומען ווי אַ שטאָלצער ייִד, אַפֿילו אויב ער דריקט עס אויס אויף אַ נישט־רעליגיעזן אופֿן. און טאַקע דערפֿאַר דאַרפֿן די שולן אַנטוויקלען די ייִדישע אידענטיטעט פֿון די תּלמידים נישט בלויז אינעם רעליגיעזן זינען אָבער אויך אינעם נאַציאָנאַל־קולטורעלן.
איין אופֿן, וואָס ס׳רובֿ טאָגשולן טוען שוין, איז דורכן פֿאַרשטאַרקן די קינדערס אידענטיפֿיקאַציע מיט מדינת־ישׂראל. דאָס העלפֿט אויב דער בחור אָדער מיידל וועט שפּעטער טאַקע עולה זײַן. אין דער אמתן אָבער וועלן ס׳רובֿ תּלמידים זיך נישט באַזעצן אין ישׂראל, אַזוי אַז דאָס אַליין איז נישט קיין לייזונג.
וואָס מע דאַרף יאָ טאָן איז לערנען דעם תּלמיד די פֿילפֿאַרביקייט פֿון זײַן ייִדישן אָפּשטאַם, וואָס בײַ ס׳רובֿ ייִדן אין אַמעריקע איז דאָס אַ מזרח־אייראָפּעיִשער. אַחוץ די געוויינטלעכע ייִדישע לימודים ווי חומש, נבֿיאים און גמרא, דאַרף מען אויך אײַנפֿירן קורסן וואָס באַקענען די קינדער מיט דער רײַכקייט פֿון דער ייִדישער קולטור. ווען דער תּלמיד וועט זיך דערוויסן אַז ייִדישקייט נעמט אַרײַן נישט בלויז רעליגיע אָבער אויך די ייִדישע שפּראַך (ווײַל העברעיִש וועלן זיי זיך שוין במילא אויסלערנען), די געשיכטע, מאכלים און מוזיק פֿון אַמאָליקן ייִדישלאַנד, גיט עס אים אַ בעסערן פֿאַרשטאַנד פֿון וואָס עס הייסט צו זײַן אַ ייִד.
אַ צאָל מיטלשולן טוען דאָס שוין, אָבער בלויז אויפֿן שפּיץ מעסער. אינעם ענגליש־קלאַס, למשל, וועט דער לערער הייסן די תּלמידים לייענען אַן איבערזעצונג פֿון אַ באַשעוויס־דערציילונג. ליטעראַטור איז אָבער בלויז איין אַספּעקט פֿון קולטור. כּדי באמת אײַנצופֿלאַנצן אַן אינטערעס און ליבשאַפֿט צום עטניש־קולטורעלן אַספּעקט פֿון ייִדישקייט דאַרף מען אײַנפֿירן קורסן פֿון פֿאַרשיידענע מינים. למשל:
- אַ קלאַס וועגן דער געשיכטע פֿון די ייִדן אין מיזרח־אייראָפּע — און נישט בלויז וועגן דער ציוניסטישער באַוועגונג און דעם חורבן (דאָס לערנט מען שוין), נאָר וועגן די גרויסע אויפֿטוען במשך פֿון דער טויזנט־יאָריקער געשיכטע פֿון די ייִדן אין מיזרח־אייראָפּע: דער געבורט פֿון דער חסידישער באַוועגונג, די צעבליִונג פֿון דער ייִדישער און העברעיִשער ליטעראַטור, דער פּאָליטישער אַקטיוויזם פֿון די מזרח־אייראָפּעיִשע בונדיסטן, ציוניסטן און ייִדישיסטן, און ווי די ייִדן האָבן מיטגעבראַכט אָט די קולטור־ירושה קיין אַמעריקע.
- אַ קורס וועגן ייִדישן קינאָ, וווּ די קינדער קוקן אויף קלאַסישע ייִדישע פֿילמען ווי „דער דיבוק‟, „טבֿיה‟ און „ייִדל מיטן פֿידל‟ און דיסקוטירן סײַ דעם קולטור־היסטאָרישן קאָנטעקסט, סײַ די קונסט פֿונעם פֿילם.
- אַ קלאַס פֿון קלעזמער־מוזיק, און אַפֿילו אַ וואַרשטאַט וווּ די קינדער ברענגען זייערע אינסטרומענטן און לערנען זיך ווי אַליין צו שפּילן די אַלטע ייִדישע מעלאָדיעס (אָדער אַ קלאַס פֿון פֿאַרשידענע מינים ייִדישן פֿאָלקסמוזיק, אַרײַנגערעכנט די ספֿרדישע און תּימנער טראַדיציעס).
- אַ קאָכקלאַס וווּ די קינדער לערנען זיך אויס ווי צוצוגרייטן היימישע מזרח־אייראָפּעיִשע מאכלים ווי בלינצעס, קניידלעך און ראָגעלעך.
- ייִדיש־לעקציעס, ניצנדיק דעם אויסערגעוויינטלעכן קאָמפּיוטער־קורס, „ייִדיש פּאַפּ‟ וווּ קינדער לערנען זיך די שפּראַך דורך קוקן אויף די חנעוודיקע ייִדישע קאַרטונס פֿון נאָמי מיט איר ראָבאָט מאָבי— און וואָס איז, אַגבֿ, פֿרײַ פֿון אָפּצאָל.
געוויסע לערער און פּרינציפּאַלן וועלן טענהן, אַז צוליב דעם שוין געפּאַקטן לערנטאָג פֿון אַ ייִדישער מיטלשול (בפֿרט צוליב די אַוואַנסירטע סעקולערע לימודים וואָס די עלטערן פֿאָדערן כּדי זייערע קינדער זאָלן קענען אַרײַן אין די בעסטע אוניווערסיטעטן), איז פּשוט נישטאָ קיין צײַט צוצוגעבן אַזוינע קורסן. דאָס איז אָבער אַ תּירוץ פֿאַר די בענטשליכט. יעדער ווייסט אַז דאָס לערנען אַוואַנסירטע גמרא, למשל, איז נישט פֿאַר אַלעמען. אין דער זעלבער צײַט פֿונעם גמרא־קלאַס קען מען גיבן איינעם אָדער מער פֿון די קולטורקלאַסן ווי אַ ברירה.
דערצו קען מען אָפּהאַלטן די קלאַסן נאָך די געוויינטלעכע שול־שעהען. פּונקט ווי די מער אַטלעטישע תּלמידים גייען טרענירן אויף ספּאָרטמאַטשן, זאָלן תּלמידים מיט אַן אינטערעס צו קולטור זיך דערוויסן וועגן דער פֿילפֿאַרביקער קולטור־ירושה פֿונעם ייִדישן פֿאָלק און אַפֿילו גיין אויף שײַכותדיקע עקסקורסיעס צוזאַמען. די סטודענטן וואָס וווינען אין דער ניו־יאָרקער געגנט קענען, למשל, פֿאָרן צוזאַמען אין ייִדישן טעאַטער.
בקיצור, ווען מע פֿלאַנצט אײַן בײַ קינדער אַ ליבשאַפֿט צו זייער עטניש־קולטורעלן אָפּשטאַם, גיט עס זיי אַ געלעגנהייט צו בלײַבן שטאָלצע, גוט־אינפֿאָרמירטע ייִדן. נאָכן גראַדויִרן וועלן זיי קענען אויסדריקן זייער ייִדישע אידענטיטעט נישט בלויז דורך גיין אין שיל שבת און יום־טובֿ, נאָר דורכן ווײַטער זיך לערנען ייִדיש, זיך פֿאַרנעמען מיט אַקאַדעמישע פֿאָרשונגען פֿאַרבונדן מיט דער ייִדישער געשיכטע אָדער ליטעראַטור און גיין אויף ייִדישע קאָנצערטן, פֿעסטיוואַלן און קאָנפֿערענצן. דערבײַ וועלן אויך יענע קינדער, וואָס פֿאַרלאָזן דאָס רעליגיעזע לעבן, ווײַטער אָנהאַלטן אַ שטאַרקע פֿאַרבינדונג מיט ייִדן און ייִדישקייט און במילא וועלן זיי, כאָטש אינעם קולטורעלן זינען, קיין מאָל נישט אַראָפּ פֿון דרך.
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Russia’s Medvedev Praises Trump But Questions US Submarine Threat
Deputy Chairman of the Russian Security Council Dmitry Medvedev attends an interview with Reuters, TASS and WarGonzo in the Moscow region, Russia January 29, 2026. Photo: Dmitry Medvedev’s Secretariat/Handout via REUTERS
Dmitry Medvedev, deputy chairman of Russia’s Security Council, praised US President Donald Trump as an effective leader who was seeking peace but added that Moscow had seen no trace of nuclear submarines Trump said he moved to Russian shores.
Trump, who has said he wants to be remembered as a “peacemaker” president, has repeatedly said that a peace deal to end the Ukraine war is close, and a new round of US-Russian-Ukrainian talks is scheduled for this week in Abu Dhabi.
Asked if Trump was positive or negative for Russia and about unproven speculation that Trump was some sort of Russian agent, Medvedev said the American people had chosen Trump and that Moscow respected that decision.
Medvedev lauded Trump’s courage in resisting the US establishment and said the US president’s sometimes “brash” style was “effective.”
“He is an emotional person, but on the other hand, the chaos that is commonly referred to, which is created by his activities, is not entirely true,” he told Reuters, TASS and the WarGonzo Russian war blogger in an interview at his residence outside Moscow and authorized for publication on Sunday.
“It is obvious that behind this lies a completely conscious and competent line,” said Medvedev, who served as Russian president from 2008 to 2012.
President Vladimir Putin remains the final voice on Russian policy, though Medvedev, an arch-hawk who has repeatedly goaded Trump on social media, gives a sense of hardliners’ thinking within the Russian elite, according to foreign diplomats.
“Trump wants to go down in history as a peacemaker – and he is really trying,” Medvedev said. “He is really trying to do that. And that is why contacts with Americans have become much more productive.”
TRUMP’S SUBMARINE THREAT
Medvedev said the key to understanding Trump was his business background, quipping that there was no such thing as a former businessman – a play on an old Russian joke that there is no such thing as a former KGB agent.
Trump in August said he had ordered two US nuclear submarines to move closer to Russia in response to what he called “highly provocative” comments from Medvedev about the risk of war after what appeared to be an ultimatum from Trump.
“We still have not found them,” Medvedev said of the US submarines.
After Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine, Medvedev has repeatedly hurled invective at Kyiv and Western powers while warning of the risks of an escalation of the war towards a nuclear “apocalypse.”
Medvedev said Russia would “soon” win military victory in the Ukraine war but the key thing was to prevent any further conflict, adding: “I would like this to happen as soon as possible.”
“But it is equally important to think about what will happen next. After all, the goal of victory is to prevent new conflicts. This is absolutely obvious.”
Russia currently controls a fifth of Ukraine but has so far been unable to take the whole of the eastern Donbas region, where Ukrainian forces hold about 10%, or 5,000 square km (1,900 square miles), according to open-source maps of the war.