After the last of the living hostages in Gaza were released last week, a prominent New York synagogue faced a complicated question: Should it remove the Israeli flag on its bimah?

Central Synagogue in Manhattan had displayed the Israeli flag on an empty chair since the attacks of Oct. 7, 2023, along with a count of the days since Hamas killed 1,200 people in Israel and took about 250 hostage.

The Reform synagogue had committed to keeping the flag up “until they all came home,” Rabbi Angela Buchdahl told CBS News.

But after the living hostages had all been reunited with their families, the congregation faced a delicate choice: Is it time to take down that flag? Hamas had not returned the bodies of all deceased hostages, some of whom the group said it is unable to locate. And the Israeli flag’s place on the bimah continued to divide congregants who disagree about the role of the Jewish state in religious services — a debate intensified by Israel’s military campaign in Gaza the past two years.

During last week’s Shabbat service, Buchdahl explained the synagogue’s decision: The flag would be removed from the chair on the bimah — and placed in the Torah ark.

“We must mark this moment ritually,” Buchdahl told the congregation. “We must offer gratitude and celebrate this moment with joy.”

Buchdahl said that in making the decision she drew on customs surrounding Acheinu, the ancient Jewish prayer for the release of hostages, which traditionally is said only for living hostages. “Our tradition is giving us some guidance in this moment,” she said, “that now that our living hostages are returned we must mark this moment ritually.”

After the congregation said the prayer for hostages, Cantor Daniel Mutlu sang “Coming Home” as news clips of hostages reuniting with their families played on screen. Congregants rose to their feet while Dagan Shimoni, the synagogue’s Israeli shaliach or emissary, and Buchdahl folded the flag and the rabbi placed it in the ark alongside the Torah scrolls.

A different symbol would honor the deceased hostages whose bodies have not been returned. Among them is 19-year-old Itay Chen, who was serving in the Israel Defense Forces when he was killed by Hamas on Oct. 7. Chen’s father, Ruby, had spoken at Central and gifted Buchdahl a dog tag necklace in the aftermath of the attacks.

In honor of Chen and the other deceased hostages, Buchdahl and the clergy placed their dog tag necklaces on a Torah scroll. The necklaces will remain in the Ark until all of the bodies are returned, Buchdahl said.

“We know that there has been so much celebration and joy we saw in that video,” Buchdahl said. “But also so much healing that still needs to happen, for all of those returning, for those who are not returning.”

The flag on the bimah

In her Rosh Hashanah sermon, Buchdahl acknowledged how polarizing symbols like the Israeli flag had become.

“There are members of our own congregation who are disturbed by our weekly prayer for Israel,” she said. “Or who object to the Israeli flag on our bimah, even though the empty chair it covers stands for the 48 remaining hostages whose families still await their return.”

In some ways, Central Synagogue was unusual in its choice not to display an Israeli flag before Oct. 7.

In many U.S. synagogues, the bimah is flanked by both Israeli and American flags. The trend dates back to a wave of patriotism during World War I, when the American flag became common in synagogues and churches, according to Perry Dane, a member of the North American Vexillological Association, which studies flags.

The presence of the U.S. flag inspired some congregations to also display what was then the Zionist flag, Dane said. After Israel’s founding in 1948 — and again after the Six-Day War in 1967 — more synagogues added what became the Israeli flag.

But the presence of the Israeli flag on the bimah has long been debated, sparking discussion among Reform and Orthodox rabbis alike.

A 2015 Forward opinion piece by Alex Kane argued that flags “tether a diverse and opinionated Jewish community to nationalistic sentiments some members don’t agree with: support for the state of Israel and the U.S. government.” A response by Menachem Freedman argued for the Israeli flag, countering that the “political wellbeing of the state has a well-established place in the synagogue.”

Israel’s military campaign in Gaza over the past two years have made those discussions even more fraught.

This month, on the subreddit Jews of Conscience, which describes itself as “progressive, leftist” and “anti-Zionist,” members discussed whether an Israeli flag on the bimah would be a deterrent for attending a synagogue — and whether to confront a rabbi about removing it.

“This is not hypothetical for me. It’s why I left my synagogue,” one user wrote.

“Huge dealbreaker,” commented another.

Yet congregations that display the Israeli flag on the bimah may have different reasons for doing so.

Congregation Beth Shalom of the Woodlands in Texas explained in a June statement that the Reform synagogue displayed both American and Israeli flags “to express our gratitude and love for both countries,” quipping that, “We also love Texas, but there is not enough room on the bimah for another flag.”

In an April 2023 sermon titled “To a Non-Zionist Gen Z-er,” Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove of the Conservative Park Avenue Synagogue in New York City spoke about the Israeli flag as core to Judaism.

“Supporting Israel is, in my mind, fundamental to what it means to be a Jew today,” he said. “It is why we have the flag on the bimah, it is why we recite the prayer for Israel, it is why I am a proud Zionist, it is why I am politically engaged on behalf of Israel and why I ask that my congregants be as well.”

For Rabbi Hannah Goldstein of Temple Sinai, a Reform synagogue in Washington, D.C., the Israeli flag can have multiple meanings.

“Some of you have told us that when you see this flag, you see the flag of a modern country, a country that is responsible for the nightmare in Gaza, you see an occupation that has dragged on for 58 years,” Goldstein, who declined to comment to the Forward, said in this year’s Kol Nidre sermon. “And those are painful things to see and feel in a house of prayer.”

But for others, she said, the flag represents “the realization of a dream.’

Goldstein had sometimes “struggled to defend the place of the flag on this bimah,” she said. “But, I can’t seem to let go of the dream. Not the rose colored, incomplete version of my youth — but a dream for what Israel might be.”

The post Should synagogues remove the Israeli flag from bimahs now? appeared first on The Forward.

Luka Dončić was headed to Los Angeles — if the Lakers could keep it quiet for one more Shabbat.

The Feb. 2 trade that brought Dončić, widely touted as one of the two or three best basketball players on the planet, to Los Angeles blindsided the NBA — and Dončić himself. It was the most shocking and controversial swap in the history of the league, if not the history of American sports. The reporter who broke the story had to convince readers he hadn’t been hacked.

Yet a new book reveals a surprising final hangup before the deal went through. In A Hollywood Ending: The Dreams and Drama of the LeBron Lakers (Doubleday), veteran hoops writer Yaron Weitzman reveals that an unsuspecting stakeholder’s Sabbath observance put the trade — and indeed, the future of the NBA — on hold. It’s one of a few fun Jewish details in the deeply-sourced book (whose author is Jewish, in case the name didn’t give it away).

Secrecy was essential to the trade. Dončić, then 25, was beloved in Dallas, where his future with the Mavericks seemed utterly secure. Because mere rumors of a developing trade would irreversibly damage their relationship with Dončić, the Mavs had to negotiate below the radar of the scoop-hungry NBA media. For that reason, Mavericks general manager Nico Harrison only told his Lakers counterpart, Rob Pelinka, that Dončić was on the market. In turn, Pelinka only told his boss, Lakers owner Jeannie Buss.

It took three weeks for the blockbuster deal to come together, with the Lakers’ Anthony Davis — a future Hall-of-Famer in his own right — and a first-round draft pick headed to Dallas in return. By Jan. 31, a Friday night, the terms were in place.

But the Lakers couldn’t pull the trigger — yet. For salary cap reasons, they needed to complete a separate trade with the Utah Jazz — and before the Jazz could accept, they needed to do a trade with the L.A. Clippers that involved another four players, including 16-year veteran Patty Mills. Because Mills was in the last season of his contract, league rules required his agent to certify that no future contract had been agreed to under the table.

There was just one issue, Weitzman reports: Mills’ agent, Steven Heumann, was observing Shabbat and therefore offline. “This meant that all parties had to wait until an hour after sundown on Saturday night,” Weitzman writes. “In the meantime, Pelinka and Harrison [the respective general managers of the Lakers and Mavericks] agreed to keep the details quiet. Neither side wanted to risk anything leaking.”

What if something had leaked? It’s possible and maybe likely that the deal would have fallen apart. Mavericks fans would have rioted — perhaps literally — to stop a trade. Competing offers might have come in from other teams. Or Dončić’s agent might have tried to force him to a different destination. But the gag order held, and the next Laker dynasty began.

Ironically, Heumann (who did not immediately respond to an inquiry), wouldn’t have known that he was holding up The Luka freaking Dončić Trade even after Shabbat, because none of the adjacent teams or players or agents was wise to the NBA earthquake they were facilitating. Instead, his observance inverted an experience many Jews are familiar with — the excruciating wait for Shabbat to end so you can start working — by giving it to non-Jews. (Now let Pelinka try turning off his phone for 25 hours.)

The trade was as consequential as it was surprising. It rejuvenated the league’s most iconic franchise from also-ran to championship contender and doomed the Mavericks — led by Dončić to the NBA Finals the season prior — to irrelevance. Mavericks fans — who might have kept 100 Shabbats in a row if it meant keeping their hero in town — will hold Harrison in contempt for decades. And one man’s Jewish observance will always be a small part of a landscape-altering basketball story.

A Hollywood Ending: The Dreams and Drama of the LeBron Lakers hits shelves Oct. 21. The Lakers season starts Wednesday.

The post The Lakers were about to shock the NBA. But Shabbat had to end first. appeared first on The Forward.

(New York Jewish Week) — Greenpoint, Brooklyn is known for many things: its extensive waterfront, a tight-knit Polish community and a vibrant arts scene.

One thing it’s not known for: a thriving Jewish community. But that’s rapidly changing.

The Greenpoint Shul — North Brooklyn’s only non-Haredi, brick-and-mortar synagogue — is today home to some 100 member families. That’s twice as many members as just 16 months ago, according to Rabbi Isaiah Rothstein, who has led the community since August 2024.

The congregation is looking to future generations, too: This school year, the Orthodox congregation officially added a Hebrew school serving some 30 children in grades kindergarten through 8. The school provides Jewish families an alternative to the only other option in the area, the Hebrew school that’s run by Chabad of North Brooklyn in nearby Williamsburg.

“I know the power and importance of having a youth department and it being a core pillar of building a thriving and growing community,” said Rothstein, who was previously the youth director at Young Israel of Stamford, Connecticut before assuming the helm of the Greenpoint Shul.

The Hebrew school was initially founded in 2019 by Yoni Kretzmer and his wife, artist Avital Burg, who are members of the synagogue and the parents of three children ages 8, 4 and 2. For five years, the school operated independently but borrowed the space inside the synagogue. As of this academic year, the school was officially “adopted” by the shul, which did not have a Hebrew school of its own.

“We saw that there’s nothing happening in North Brooklyn,” Yoni Kretzmer, who moved to Greenpoint from Israel with his wife in 2015, said of the local Jewish education scene. “So that was basically it — we started because we thought it was possible.”

Six years later, Kretzmer is now employed by the Greenpoint Shul, where one benefit he has seen so far is getting to exchange ideas with the rabbinic leadership team. He no longer has to independently collect tuition from parents, and he can provide students with supplies and snacks directly purchased from the synagogue budget.

“The way that we can present it now is as part of a much larger structure,” Kretzmer said. “When people [are] joining, they’re not only feeling that we’re using the shul, but that they’re part of a community center in the fullest meaning of the word.”

He added, “Now I can really be a teacher and the organizer, but I don’t have to be the accountant.”

With a focus on Torah and art, the school opened with about a dozen students — split into two groups, with Kretzmer teaching the older students, and Burg teaching the younger students — and grew via word of mouth. “It was mainly parents who brought other parents,” Kretzmer said. “So the connections were kind of within the neighborhood, of people who knew each other.”

The new school bucks multiple trends. Across the country, supplementary Jewish school enrollment is down by nearly half over the last two decades, a recent study found, and many of those that remain have reduced the number of days they operate. The Greenpoint Shul’s school holds classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, though different children attend each day.

While enrollment declined early in the pandemic, “once it was deemed safe to return, then it really started growing,” said Kretzmer, who is now the youth director at Greenpoint Shul.

One recent arrival is Andrew Altfest, who moved to nearby Williamsburg in 2014 and enrolled his 5-year-old son, Alden, last year.

“We really like the values that are being taught,” said Altfest, a financial advisor who grew up Reform. “Those values, they range from everything: learning Torah stories, Jewish culture, ethics. And we value the diversity of the families of the kids that are there.”

Like so many parts of Brooklyn, Greenpoint has seen a wave of gentrification and development in recent decades. In Greenpoint, this change was spurred, in part, by a massive rezoning along the neighborhood’s once-derelict waterfront in 2005. While there is no reliable data on the neighborhood’s Jewish population — studies often lump Greenpoint with Williamsburg, which is home to a sizable Hasidic community — locals believe the number of Jews in Greenpoint has grown in recent years.

“Greenpoint is not a famously Jewish neighborhood in New York City,” said Greenpoint Shul president Daphne Lasky. “I think there are other things other than Jewish community that sometimes draw people to Greenpoint: the waterfront location, the scale of the buildings. There’s so much creative energy in the neighborhood. But then you end up with Jewish families who have those interests and they also want to come together around their Jewish life as well.”

As such, other Jewish institutions have grown to meet the needs of the area’s Jewish community. The Neighborhood: An Urban Center for Jewish Life, a Jewish cultural and events hub funded by UJA-Federartion of New York, was founded in 2022 expressly to serve Jews in both central and northern Brooklyn.

“We feel there’s a really significant demand,” said Neighborhood director Rebecca Guber. “Part of it, which is kind of hard to wrap your head around, is that in North Brooklyn, the only Jewish infrastructure is Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox, and that’s just not serving all members of the community.”

For now, at least, The Neighborhood does not have a physical space.

The Greenpoint Shul, meanwhile, has a long history in the neighborhood. Founded at the turn of the last century by German-Jewish immigrants as Congregation Ahavas Israel, the synagogue is in a landmarked Romanesque Revival building at 108 Noble Street whose cornerstone was laid in 1903. Today’s Greenpoint Shul is the result of multiple mergers between two neighboring Reform congregations and one Orthodox synagogue. Its prayer service is Orthodox; women sit upstairs in the balcony while men sit downstairs for prayer services. But the community is multicultural, multiracial and welcoming of all backgrounds, including many members who have recently converted to Judaism. While Orthodox families are likely to send their children to day schools and yeshivas, the Hebrew school is geared toward “children of all ages and backgrounds,” according to its web site.

“The congregation has gone through a lot of changes and growth — and shrinking and growing again — over the last 140 years,” Lasky said. “In particular, in the last 25 years or so, as Greenpoint has had its own renaissance as a neighborhood, there’s been more and more families moving into the neighborhood that need Jewish education for their children and Jewish connection for their children.”

Because of the new, formal relationship between the school and the shul, Rothstein said he’s already seen interest from prospective parents who would like to enroll their kids in the program next year. But the growth of a community isn’t just measured in sheer numbers — Rothstein added that, as a result of the Hebrew school, youth attendance at recent Sukkot and holiday events increased this year.

“We’ve seen, already, crossover, where it’s a pipeline to deeper engagement,” Rothstein said.

The post As Greenpoint’s Jewish community grows, so does this shul’s Hebrew school appeared first on The Forward.