Uncategorized
This Jewish New York City Council candidate has a prolific passion: serial sperm donation
(New York Jewish Week) — Jonathan David Rinaldi, 44, is a Republican who is running to represent New York’s District 24, which encompasses the Queens neighborhoods of Kew Gardens, Fresh Meadows, Briarwood and Jamaica. This week, he made headlines for protesting outside a motel in his district that, he claimed, was housing newly arrived migrants.
But last November, he gained local fame for a different reason. Rinaldi was featured in a post on Humans of New York, the viral social media project in which photographer Brandon Stanton posts portraits of New Yorkers he meets on the street, along with stories they relate in their own voices.
Rinaldi’s story was particularly eyebrow-raising: He said he had fathered at least 12 children over the course of two years through sperm donation — but not via sperm banks that pay donors, vet their health and limit their offspring. And he said he planned to keep going, in part because of his Jewish identity.
He said he was driven in part by his Jewish identity. “I explain to each [woman]: ‘This child will be born into a larger family. I have eighteen other children.’” Rinaldi said in the caption. “I’d like as many as God will give me. Why put your entire bloodline into one child when you can spread it out? Eighteen is a holy number in Judaism. And the next one is 36, so I’ll reassess then.”
In the Humans of New York post, Rinaldi detailed the process (“Fresh is better than frozen”) and said that he’s had sex with some of the women and wants to remain involved in their lives. “I’m what they call a ‘known donor,’” he said. “Everything is kinda handshake. I don’t charge the mothers. And they don’t expect any financial support.”
The post garnered a string of negative reactions from social media users. In response, Stanton wrote on Instagram that “stories from people you may not identify with, or even like, were a common part of HONY pre-pandemic. And will be again now that I’m back on the street.”
The post did not identify Rinaldi, but he confirmed to the New York Jewish Week over the phone that he was the person in the portrait and post. “I was interviewed once,” Rinaldi said. “It was taken out of context. I had a long conversation, a random conversation with somebody on the street.”
Rinaldi also confirmed that he donates his sperm — and has attempted to square that practice with Jewish tradition. He said that he has spoken with a rabbi to “try and figure out how to be as kosher as I possibly can and have as many children as the Bible commands,” and gave the name of a local Chabad rabbi. The rabbi declined to comment about Rinaldi but confirmed their relationship.
“It’s our responsibility as Jews blessed by God to have children,” said Rinaldi, who also has three children from a previous marriage. “Some of us are doing it extremely kosher, the way it’s supposed to be, you have a nice Jewish wife, you go to temple every day. For me, it didn’t work out that way.”
The Torah contains the commandment to “be fruitful and multiply,” which rabbis have traditionally interpreted as an imperative to have children. Rabbis have prohibited sperm donation, however, in part due to prohibitions on masturbation and on having children with an unknown father. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, a leading 20th-century authority, wrote that it’s preferable for Jewish women who cannot use their husband’s sperm to use non-Jewish sperm for artificial insemination in order to avoid accidental incest in future generations.
Rinaldi said that he began donating sperm when the city was locked down due to the spread of COVID-19, and that he first donated to a friend. From there, he said, word spread of his donations. Rinaldi is what is called a “known donor,” or someone whose identity is known to the recipient and, potentially, their children. Known donors are legal in the United States, but serial sperm donation is discouraged by many countries, in large part because of the risk of biologically related offspring procreating together in the future. The Netherlands set up systems to curb a serial donor who fathered at least 100 children, while Israel barred an American Jewish man dubbed “the Sperminator” because of his extensive efforts to procreate from impregnating more women there. Ari Nagel’s own progeny tally neared 100 after a prolific pandemic, he revealed in 2021.
Rinaldi, too, said the pandemic had spurred his donations.
“At no point did I ever go to a sperm bank,” Rinaldi said. “At no point did I ever intend to do this. We were all at home, shut down. A lot of people desired families. This is not your typical sperm donor situation. … I was just blessed to even have the opportunity. I didn’t do it for money. I didn’t ask for anything. I just wanted to help families.”
He wouldn’t confirm how many children he has through sperm donation, though in the Humans of New York caption, he’s quoted as saying he had fathered 12 over the previous two years — and, at the time, three more were on the way. In an interview Wednesday with the New York Jewish Week, he responded to a question about how many children he has by repeating an idea he had alluded to in the caption: that according to Jewish tradition, the number 18 represents life.
“Eighteen is a holy number,” Rinaldi said in the interview. “It’s just what God has blessed me with. I’m doing this because I don’t believe in abortion. I am pro-life.”
Opposing abortion isn’t the only right-wing position Rinaldi holds. In an interview, he railed against the COVID-19 vaccine and compared vaccine requirements to the persecution of Jews during the Holocaust, a common line of criticism at the time. “You could have just worn a yellow unvaccinated star on your shirt,” he said, adding, “We were literally one thing away from them coming up to rounding up the unvaccinated.” He also said transgender people are “against Torah principles” and said schools are “not teaching kids God.”
On Tuesday, he and a group of Republican activists showed up at a Kew Gardens motel to protest migrants coming to the city, even though a lawyer for the motel said the owner is “not interested in signing a contract” to house migrants.
In District 24, Rinaldi will run against Democratic Council member Jim Gennaro, who has represented the district for more than a decade.
Rinaldi, who grew up in New York City, said his grandmother escaped Poland to Argentina during World War II. His grandfather also left Moldova at the time. Although both countries were occupied by the Nazis or their allies, Rinaldi said his grandparents were “against the tyranny of the left at that time.”
Rinaldi said he studied for his bar mitzvah at Yeshivas Ohr HaChaim, an Orthodox institution in Kew Gardens, and attended City College of New York in uptown Manhattan where he studied architecture, which is also reflected on a LinkedIn page that appears to belong to him.
He later worked in construction and design for over a decade and appeared on the HGTV reality television show “Million Dollar Contractor.”
When it comes to his sperm donation, however, Rinaldi is less comfortable being in the public eye, despite the Humans of New York post. “My lifestyle is nobody’s business,” he said.
“I am what it looks like when you don’t abort children,” Rinaldi said. “Let’s just focus on the issues if we can. I’m going to do the right thing for the community. My personal business is my personal business.”
Back in the Humans of New York post, Rinaldi suggested that he hoped to expand his personal business. He mused about practices that Jewish tradition has, for the past millennium, frowned upon: “My ultimate goal is to find two or three of the mothers who will be sister wives, because I’m gonna need help with all this,” he said. “But I know one thing: It will never be boring.”
—
The post This Jewish New York City Council candidate has a prolific passion: serial sperm donation appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
Board of Peace Members Have Pledged More Than $5 billion for Gaza, Trump Says
A drone view shows the destruction in a residential neighborhood, after the withdrawal of the Israeli forces from the area, amid a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas in Gaza, in Gaza City, October 21, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Dawoud Abu Alkas/File Photo
US President Donald Trump said Board of Peace member states will announce at an upcoming meeting on Thursday a pledge of more than $5 billion for reconstruction and humanitarian efforts in Gaza.
In a post on Truth Social on Sunday, Trump wrote that member states have also committed thousands of personnel toward a U.N.-authorized stabilization force and local police in the Palestinian enclave.
The US president said Thursday’s gathering, the first official meeting of the group, will take place at the Donald J. Trump Institute of Peace, which the State Department recently renamed after the president. Delegations from more than 20 countries, including heads of state, are expected to attend.
The board’s creation was endorsed by a United Nations Security Council resolution as part of the Trump administration’s plan to end the war between Israel and Palestinian Islamist group Hamas in Gaza.
Israel and Hamas agreed to the plan last year with a ceasefire officially taking effect in October, although both sides have accused each other repeatedly of violating the ceasefire. According to Gaza’s Health Ministry, more than 590 Palestinians have been killed by Israeli troops in the territory since the ceasefire began. Israel has said four of its soldiers have been killed by Palestinian militants in the same period.
While regional Middle East powers including Turkey, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Qatar and Israel – as well as emerging nations such as Indonesia – have joined the board, global powers and traditional Western US allies have been more cautious.
Uncategorized
Why a forgotten teacher’s grave became a Jewish pilgrimage site
Along Britton Road in Rochester, New York, a brick gatehouse sits across from ordinary homes. Beyond it lies Britton Road Cemetery, its grounds divided into family plots and sections claimed over time by Orthodox congregations and fraternal associations, past and present. Names like Anshe Polen, Beth Hakneses Hachodosh, B’nai Israel, and various Jewish fraternal organizations are found here.
On the east side of the cemetery, a modest gray headstone draws visitors who do not personally know the man buried there, who were never taught his name in school, and who claim no personal connection to his life. Some leave notes. Some light candles in a small metal box set nearby. Others whisper prayers and stand for a moment before going. They come because they believe holiness can be found here.
The grave belongs to Rabbi Yechiel Meir Burgeman, a Polish-born teacher who died in 1938. He did not lead a major congregation or leave behind an institution that bears his name. And yet, nearly a century after his death, people still visit.
Over time, Burgeman has come to be remembered as a tzaddik nistar, a hidden righteous person, whose holiness is known through their teaching and daily life rather than through any title or position. His grave has become a place of intercession. People come to pray for healing, for help in times of uncertainty, and for the hope of marriage. What endures here is not an individual’s biography so much as a practice: the belief that a life lived with integrity can continue to shape devotion, even after the body has been laid to rest.
In life, Burgeman was not known as a miracle worker or a public figure. He was a melamed, a teacher of children, living plainly among other Jewish immigrants in Rochester’s Jewish center in the early decades of the 20th century. At one point, he was dismissed from a teaching post for refusing to soften his instruction. He later opened his own cheder, or schoolroom. There was no congregation to inherit his name, no institution to archive his papers. When he died, he was buried in an ordinary way at Britton Road Cemetery, one grave among many.
What followed was not immediate.
Remembered in return
The meaning attached to Burgeman’s resting place accumulated slowly. Stories began to circulate. People spoke of his kindness, his discipline, his integrity. Over time, visitors came. The grave became a place not of answers, but of belief. For generations, this turning toward the dead has taken this same form. It is not worship. It is proximity. A way of standing near those believed to have lived rightly, and asking that their merit might still matter.
In Jewish tradition, prayer at a grave is a reflection on those believed to have lived with righteousness, asking that their merit accompany the living in moments of need. Psalms are traditionally recited. Words are often spoken quietly.
I have done something similar too. Years ago, before I converted to Judaism and before I had the means to travel, I sent a written prayer through a Chabad service that delivers letters to the grave of the Lubavitcher Rebbe in New York. Someone else carried it. I cannot say with absolute certainty what happened because of it. Only that the practice itself made space for hope that I was seen, and that a prayer was later answered in ways that shaped my life and deepened my understanding of Judaism.
Burgeman’s grave functions in a similar register, though without any institutional frame. People come not because his name is widely known, but because the story has endured. Over time, that story gathered details. The most persistent involves a dog said to have escorted Jewish children to Burgeman’s cheder so they would not be harassed along the way by other youths. The dog then stood watch until they were ready to return home. The versions differ. Some are reverent. Some are playful. Some verge on the miraculous. The story endures because it names something children needed: care, in a world that could be frightening.
In recent decades, Burgeman’s afterlife has taken on a digital form. His name surfaces in comment threads and genealogical forums, passed along by people who never met him and are not always sure how they are connected. Spellings are debated. Dates are corrected. A descendant appears. A former student’s grandchild adds a fragment. Someone asks whether this is the same man their grandmother spoke of. No single account settles the matter. Instead, memory gathers. What once traveled by word of mouth now moves through hyperlinks.
The internet allows fragments to remain visible. Burgeman’s story survives not because it was officially recorded, but because enough people cared to remember it. In this way, his legacy resembles the man himself: quiet, unadorned, sustained by actions rather than declaration.
This story does not offer certainty. It is about remembering a life and asking if we might still learn from it and if, perhaps, it can bring us closer to faith. Burgeman left no grand monument. He left descendants. A grave. A life of Jewish values that continues to teach.
Burgeman did not seek recognition in life. After death, he became something else: a teacher still teaching, not through words, but through the way people continue to act on his memory. That is the lesson. Not any miracle. Not any legend. The quiet insistence that a life lived with integrity does not end when the casket is placed into the earth.
Some graves are instructions.
This one still asks something of us.
The post Why a forgotten teacher’s grave became a Jewish pilgrimage site appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Turkey Sends Drilling Ship to Somalia in Major Push for Energy Independence
Turkish President Tayyip Erdogan speaks during a ceremony for the handover of new vehicles to the gendarmerie and police forces in Istanbul, Turkey, Nov. 28, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Murad Sezer
i24 News – Turkey has dispatched a drilling vessel to Somalia to begin offshore oil exploration, marking what officials describe as a historic step in Ankara’s drive to strengthen energy security and reduce reliance on imports.
Turkish Minister of Energy and Natural Resources Alparslan Bayraktar announced that the drilling ship Çagri Bey is set to sail from the port of Taşucu in southern Turkey, heading toward Somali territorial waters.
The vessel will pass through the Strait of Gibraltar and around the coast of southern Africa before reaching its destination, with drilling operations expected to begin in April or May.
Bayraktar described the mission as a “historic” milestone, saying it reflects Turkey’s long-term strategy to enhance national energy security and move closer to self-sufficiency.
The operation will be protected by the Turkish Naval Forces, which will deploy several naval units to secure both the vessel’s route and the drilling area in the Gulf of Aden and the Arabian Sea. The security arrangements fall under existing cooperation agreements between Ankara and Somalia.
The move aligns with a broader vision promoted by President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, aimed at reducing Turkey’s dependence on foreign energy supplies, boosting domestic production, and shielding the economy from external pressures.
Bayraktar said Turkey is also working to double its natural gas output in the Black Sea this year, while continuing offshore exploration along its northern coastline. In parallel, Ankara is preparing to bring its first nuclear reactor online at the Akkuyu Nuclear Power Plant, which is expected to begin generating electricity soon and eventually supply about 10% of the country’s energy needs.
The current drilling effort is based on survey data collected last year and forms part of Ankara’s wider plan to expand its energy exploration activities both regionally and internationally.