Uncategorized
Park East Synagogue is still searching for its next leader as another assistant rabbi exits
(New York Jewish Week) — The ongoing search for a successor to Park East Synagogue’s 92-year-old rabbi has hit a fresh hurdle, as the rabbinic search committee has been disbanded and another of the congregation’s rabbis has left his job.
For more than a year, the prominent Orthodox congregation on Manhattan’s East Side has sought someone to succeed Rabbi Arthur Schneier, a Holocaust survivor who has led the synagogue for six decades. But none of the prospective candidates has yet panned out, while at the same time multiple assistant rabbis have exited the synagogue.
The synagogue suggested in a statement that another of its assistant rabbis could be the heir apparent. But Park East members worry that the turmoil is endangering the future of their storied synagogue, which has hosted a pope and a string of other dignitaries as Schneier has shaped the synagogue into a stage for his human rights activism.
In February, Schneier told the New York Jewish Week, “When it comes to the selection of a rabbi, it is entirely up to the membership.” But multiple synagogue members said the rabbinic search committee disbanded after a top British rabbi withdrew from consideration in February and Schneier is now running the search himself.
“Members feel disenfranchised,” said one Park East member who is familiar with the synagogue’s management and, like others in the community, asked to remain anonymous for fear of ruining their relationships in the congregation.
“It is very difficult,” the member said. “We’ve had Rabbi Schneier here for a very long time and many people do love him very much, and it’s hard for them to imagine someone else taking that place.”
Some are sympathetic to Schneier’s position. Reuven Kahane, a longtime member at Park East who often delivers sermons at the synagogue, told the New York Jewish Week that “Rabbi Schneier has flaws and makes mistakes — like everyone else.”
The Star of David stands atop the Park East Synagogue, March 3, 2017 in New York City. (Photo by Drew Angerer/Getty Images)
“But who has done so much for so many?” Kahane asked. “The rabbi literally watched Kristallnacht, then turned that tragedy into saving Jewish lives for 70 years.”
The uncertainty began in late 2021, when the synagogue abruptly fired Schneier’s popular assistant rabbi, Benjamin Goldschmidt, whom Schneier’s allies accused of trying to stage a coup. Four months later, the synagogue announced a search for a “worthy successor” to Schneier. Goldschmidt has since founded his own popular congregation, called the Altneu, in the same neighborhood.
In February, Park East appeared close to hiring Rabbi Yitzchak Schochet, who leads a large synagogue in London. But a question-and-answer period at the synagogue following a lecture by Schochet devolved into argument when a member publicly protested the rabbi’s views about same-sex marriage. Schochet eventually withdrew from the rabbinic search.
Now, Rabbi Elchanan Poupko — who has taught at the synagogue’s affiliated day school since 2015, and who has served as the synagogue’s interim assistant rabbi since last year — confirmed that he is leaving the synagogue. Members said Poupko was well liked and was once floated as a prospective successor to Schneier. When he assumed the assistant rabbi role, he posted on LinkedIn, “May it be the will [of Hashem] that … the Divine Presence, rest in our work.”
Both Poupko and the synagogue attributed his departure to his physician wife’s work as a professor of neurology at the University of Connecticut. Poupko said “the schlep is too much” between the two workplaces.
“We wish Rabbi Poupko, his wife Rachel, and their daughters the best in their new home in Connecticut,” the synagogue said in a statement. “Their contributions to our community have been greatly appreciated and they will be missed.”
The synagogue’s statement added that it has asked another assistant rabbi, David Flatto, to serve as “acting Associate Rabbi.” Flatto previously served as the rabbi of another prominent Upper East Side Orthodox synagogue, Kehilath Jeshurun, and is a professor of law and Jewish philosophy at Hebrew University in Jerusalem.
His biography on the Park East website says he is at the synagogue “until he resumes his academic responsibilities at Hebrew University in the fall,” but members told the New York Jewish Week that they understand Schneier wants to keep Flatto on as his successor.
“He is well known and respected by the Park East community having served as our Assistant Rabbi in 2022,” the synagogue’s statement said. “He exhibited warmth and caring in his outreach and pastoral duties during Shabbat, High Holiday services, and during life cycle events.”
Neither Flatto nor Schneier responded to requests for comment.
Two members of the disbanded committee declined to comment, and the synagogue’s statement did not address an inquiry about the committee’s status, saying, “Our search for a full-time candidate is ongoing. We will continue to engage our membership in this process.”
The member who is familiar with Park East management said the search committee “chose to disband themselves” after Schochet dropped out. The member added that the committee members, “frankly, did not feel that they had any more interest in putting more effort based on the fact that the last person didn’t go so well.”
Now, members say, Schneier and a close circle of confidantes are spearheading the search.
“He’s holding on to the last vestiges of power, like an older relative who just doesn’t know when to hang it up,” said another member who is active at the synagogue and who also asked not to be named. “He’s a good man, but this is just pathetic.”
That member and others said there had been a spat between Poupko and Flatto surrounding Shemini Atzeret, the Jewish holiday immediately following Sukkot last fall. Flatto allegedly had “a temper tantrum” because Poupko was asked to participate, the member said, and ultimately refused to lead services. Other members confirmed that account.
“He literally just didn’t show up,” the active member said. “I was ticked because we’re paying him. He acted immature, so he left a very bad taste in a lot of people’s mouths.”
Some members say that while they’re impressed with Flatto in many ways, they still place him in the same category where a growing list of rabbis have found themselves during the past year and a half: respected and appreciated but, ultimately, not exactly right for Park East Synagogue.
“He’s a fantastic person, a wonderful intellectual, a great professor,” the member familiar with the synagogue management said about Flatto. “A senior rabbi requires a lot of delicate interactions that I don’t think he is really up to.”
—
The post Park East Synagogue is still searching for its next leader as another assistant rabbi exits appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
Muslim and Sephardic Jewish college students are connecting over shared heritage
Joseph Pool, a senior at Rollins College in Florida, grew up hearing his Moroccan-born grandparents describe Mimouna, a traditional Moroccan Jewish celebration marking the return to eating chametz after Passover. Because Jewish families had cleared their homes of chametz for the holiday, Muslim neighbors would bring over fresh flour, butter, and milk, and together they would enjoy a chametz-filled meal.
Amid rising campus tensions after October 7, Pool decided to host a Mimouna event of his own at Rollins College, and Muslim students showed up in droves.
“I spent years sleeping over at my grandparents’ house and hearing stories about the connection Muslims and Jews shared in Morocco,” Pool said. Seeing Muslim classmates embrace the celebration, he recalled thinking: “Wow, this is still the case today. There is still this connection ability here.”
At a moment when Jewish-Muslim tensions have intensified on campuses nationwide, some Sephardic and Muslim students say shared cultural heritage, rather than formal interfaith programming, is opening unexpected space for connection.
SAMi (Sephardic American Mizrahi Initiative) hosts Sephardic cultural programming on 16 college campuses across the country, including Persian music karaoke nights, hamsa painting events, and Mimouna celebrations. According to Manashe Khaimov, SAMi’s founder and CEO, roughly 10% of the 6,000 students the organization has engaged are Muslim.
The events are not intended to be spaces for interfaith dialogue, and that is a big part of their appeal. “Students don’t want to show up to an interfaith event unless [they’re] interested in political dialogue,” said Khaimov. Rather, students who are just looking for a place to engage with their culture show up to listen to the kind of music they grew up with, eat familiar foods, and hear Arabic or Farsi spoken.
For many Muslim students, SAMi events “smell the way it smells at home” as opposed to many Jewish spaces on college campuses that can feel “foreign” or “alienating,” said Khaimov. “For most of the Muslim students,” he said, “this is the first time even walking into Hillel spaces.”
Emily Nisimov, a Bukharian student from Queens College who organized Sephardic heritage events on her campus with SAMi, said, “The point of the events originally was to spread love and intimacy between Jewish students.” To her surprise, Muslim students started showing up. “Maybe they did just come for the food,” she said, “but the fact is that they stayed and they interacted with us and they tried to find a middle ground, which I was really impressed and shocked by.”
These connections are not limited to organized programming. Across campuses, Muslim students say friendships with Sephardic and Mizrahi peers have reshaped their understanding of Judaism, and Jewish students say the friendships have changed them, too.
Ali Mohsin Bozdar, a Muslim student at Springfield College who met Sephardic students through Interfaith America’s BRAID fellowship, said, “Jewish people from Middle Eastern backgrounds — most of the culture is similar. The food, the music, the language. I found that really fascinating,” he said. “It automatically binds you.”
Yishmael Columna, a Moroccan Jewish student and SAMi organizer at Florida International University, said the exchange has been mutual. “After Oct. 7”, he said, “it’s easy to give in to hate.” But getting to know Muslim peers complicated that instinct. “I wouldn’t be able to form opinions on many things as well as I do now if I didn’t have these conversations with them,” he said.
Sofia Houir, a Moroccan Muslim senior at Columbia University, said she had never met a Jewish person before attending college. Forming close friendships with Sephardic students on Columbia’s campus changed that. “Having friends who are Middle Eastern Jews definitely made Judaism more personal to me,” she said. “You can read about Judaism, you can study it, but talking to friends about how they grew up made me realize that, regardless of our religion, we’re all North African or Middle Eastern.”
Sofia formed a particularly close bond with an Iraqi Israeli student, Orpaz Zamir, during her time at Columbia, which she says deeply influenced her decision to travel to Israel for the first time. “Orpaz played a huge role in me going to Israel, just because I’m super close to him. And I really, really wanted to discover his culture, and to discover his country,” she said.
But that decision came with consequences.
Sofia said that her friendships with Jewish and Israeli students as well as her decision to travel to Israel caused peers in the Muslim and Arab communities on campus to stop speaking to her.
“I had some heated arguments with people who basically argued with me as if I was representing the Israeli government,” she said. “The frustrating thing was that they never had a conversation with me about it. They just presumed that me going was me validating Netanyahu’s politics or betraying the Palestinians.”
Nisimov said campus tensions at Queens College, part of New York City’s public university system, have not disappeared simply because of a heightened awareness of shared culture.
After October 7, she said, “A lot of claims were made that we should go back to where we came from.” “We tried to explain to them — just like you, we came from the same spot — but they didn’t want to listen.”
Even so, she said, her personal friendships have endured outside the realm of discourse on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. “My Muslim friend and I, we’re not really on the political level of conversation,” she said. “But we have plenty of conversations about our cultures and our religions and the differences and similarities.”
Rethinking Jewish Whiteness
For some students, these relationships have also challenged assumptions about Jewish identity and, thus, the tenor of political conversations.
Mian Muhammad Abdul Hamid, a Muslim student from Syracuse University, told the Forward that he “thinks the majority” of Muslim students on his college campus believe Jews only come from Europe. “When people think Jewish, the first thing that pops up is European.”
Bozdar agreed. “When I met these people, it confirmed for me that there are Jews from the Middle East,” he said. “Until you meet people, nothing is for sure.”
Columna recalled participating in a tabling event about Israel shortly after Oct. 7, when a Muslim student approached him to talk. The two later became friends. Weeks later, Columna asked why he had approached him rather than the other nearby Jewish students.
“He told me, ‘I decided to talk to you because, in contrast to the Ashkenazi Jews nearby, you were the only one who looked brown,” Columna said.
“I feel that sometimes the reason why these conversations do not work is because Muslim students don’t feel that Jews are even part of the Middle East,” said Columna. “Once you break that wall, and you find a common ground,” he said, “it becomes a more productive conversation.”
Zamir, an Iraqi Jewish student at Columbia University, described a similar experience. Though initially nervous about enrolling amid campus tensions, he said, “I never felt I was being attacked for my views.”
A Muslim friend later told him it was because he was seen as “from the region.”
“If you are Mizrahi,” Zamir said, “Muslim students respect what you say a bit more because if you’re from the region, you’re entitled to be there.”
But that dynamic also raises uncomfortable questions about which Jewish students are seen as having legitimate perspectives on campus.
“There’s this extreme position that Ashkenazi Jews shouldn’t be there or shouldn’t have this view because they’re ‘colonizers,’ but you’re okay because you’re part of the region,” he said.
“Unfortunately, this is the case, but it also makes my interactions with them easier,” he added.
While several students said their conversations about their shared background remain at the cultural level rather than getting political, Pool believes shared meals can create space for conversations that lean on these shared identities.
“If you share a meal with someone, you start with something in common,” he said. “You have the same food, maybe then you have the same family tradition of how to cook this food. And then suddenly, when you’re talking about politics, you can talk about just a political issue versus it being your entire identity.”
The post Muslim and Sephardic Jewish college students are connecting over shared heritage appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
The one Jewish value everyone should hold dear in the age of AI
As friends, relatives and even colleagues dive headlong into our AI future, I’ve been stuck nervously on the platform’s edge. I’m not a skeptic of technology by nature, but by experience. I’ve watched too many shiny new toys come along, promising to make society smarter or better connected, only to become superspreaders of confusion, alienation and disenfranchisement.
So when you tell me a machine can summarize any book, draw any picture or write any email, my first thought is going to be, What could possibly go wrong?
This, too, was the reaction of the Haredi rabbis who declared a communal fast over AI last month.
“If at the push of a button, I can get a hold of a d’var torah for my Shabbos meal from AI, to us, that’s a problem,” a Haredi leader told me at the time. “No, no — I want you to open the book and read it and come up with a question and come up with an answer. That’s part of what’s holy about learning Torah. It’s not just end result. It’s the process.”
Curious about their logic, I spent some time tracking down Lakewood’s gedolim to learn more. This was no straightforward task — I found it easier to get a hold of their wives than the great rabbis themselves. Even at dinner hour, these titans of Torah study were still in the beit midrash. But eventually I got through to three — thanks to my cousin Jeffrey, who knew a rav who knew a rav — and that was fortunate, because I came away with the Jewish skeleton key to our brave new world.
That key is the Jewish value of עֲמֵילוּת (ameilut), or toil. As far as Jewish values go, ameilut is an obscure one. It lacks the celebrity swagger of its better-known peers like chesed and tzedakah or the political power of tikkun olam. It was never associated with a biblical matriarch or carved into a golem’s forehead. Yet I believe it is just as crucial. Yes, toiling is a mitzvah. And in the age of AI, ameilut can be a human road map.
The word’s root appears a couple dozen times in the Hebrew Bible — unsurprisingly, it’s a recurring theme in Job — but its salience comes not from the Torah but from commentary on Leviticus 26:3, which establishes ameilut as a sacred endeavor. When God implores Israel to “walk with” the commandments, Rashi, an 11th century rabbi whose commentaries are considered authoritative, reinterpreted this to mean that God wants Jews to be ameilim b’torah — toiling in Torah study. He is reinterpreting God’s command that we walk and move forward to also mean that we should take time to stand still, turn over (and over) the same words to find new meaning and view getting stuck as a sign of progress.
For Haredim — who pronounce it ameilus — the notion that struggle can be its own reward underpins a life spent poring over sefarim in the beit midrash (and missing phone calls from the Jewish press). It follows that ChatGPT, which transforms knowledge from something developed to something consumed, is anathema to their approach. They’ve realized that making learning easy has actually made learning hard.
To be sure, the goals of the Haredi world are not exactly the same as mine. Those communities are famously insular, wary of the internet and especially cognizant of secular society’s pernicious influence. I’m basically the opposite: I love to mix it up (including with Haredi Jews) and am extremely online. A little narishkeit is good for the soul, as far as I can tell.
But I’ve found that ameilut-maxxing translates pretty well to non-religious life, too. It’s an imperative to embrace the challenge. As a notoriously limited chef, I’m now toiling in cookbooks; as a writer, I can cherish the blank page. Reframing the hard part as the good part, then, is a reminder that the toil is actually our divine right. Because ameilut is something AI can’t experience, replicate or understand. It is the very essence of what it means to be alive.
The post The one Jewish value everyone should hold dear in the age of AI appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Mistrial Declared in Case of Students Charged After Stanford Anti-Israel Protests
FILE PHOTO: A student attends an event at a protest encampment in support of Palestinians at Stanford University during the ongoing conflict between Israel and the Palestinian Islamist group Hamas, in Stanford, California U.S., April 26, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Carlos Barria/File Photo
A judge declared a mistrial on Friday in a case of five current and former Stanford University students related to the 2024 pro-Palestinian protests when demonstrators barricaded themselves inside the school president’s office.
Twelve protesters were initially charged last year with felony vandalism, according to prosecutors who said at least one suspect entered the building by breaking a window. Police arrested 13 people on June 5, 2024, in relation to the incident and the university said the building underwent “extensive” damage.
The case was tried in Santa Clara County Superior Court against five defendants charged with felony vandalism and felony conspiracy to trespass. The rest previously accepted plea deals or diversion programs.
The jury was deadlocked. It voted nine to three to convict on the felony charge of vandalism and eight to four to convict on the felony charge to trespass. Jurors failed to reach a verdict after deliberations.
The charges were among the most serious against participants in the 2024 pro-Palestinian protest movement on US colleges in which demonstrators demanded an end to Israel’s war in Gaza and Washington’s support for its ally along with a divestment of funds by their universities from companies supporting Israel.
Prosecutors in the case said the defendants engaged in unlawful property destruction.
“This case is about a group of people who destroyed someone else’s property and caused hundreds of thousands of dollars in damage. That is against the law,” Santa Clara County District Attorney Jeff Rosen said in a statement, adding he sought a new trial.
Anthony Brass, a lawyer for one of the protesters, told the New York Times his side was not defending lawlessness but “the concept of transparency and ethical investment.”
“This is a win for these young people of conscience and a win for free speech,” Brass said, adding “humanitarian activism has no place in a criminal courtroom.”
Protesters had renamed the building “Dr. Adnan’s Office” after Adnan Al-Bursh, a Palestinian doctor who died in an Israeli prison after months of detention.
Over 3,000 were arrested during the 2024 US pro-Palestinian protest movement, according to media tallies. Some students faced suspension, expulsion and degree revocation.