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A government takeover could save a struggling Brooklyn hospital — while unsettling the Orthodox Jewish community it serves
As New York City moves to assume control of a financially distressed hospital that serves Brooklyn’s Orthodox Jewish community, some local players are pushing back, filing lawsuits in hopes of stopping the imminent merger with the city’s public hospital system.
Many Hasidic patients rely on Maimonides Medical Center, an independent nonprofit in Borough Park, as their local hospital. Even in a city where hospitals typically offer kosher food and are sensitive to Jewish patients’ needs, Maimonides stands out, with Shabbat elevators that stop on every floor, Yiddish-speaking staff and an onsite synagogue in the main lobby that hosts daily afternoon prayer.
New York City Health and Hospitals CEO Dr. Mitchell Katz has promised to retain those religious accommodations at Maimonides under the merger, noting in court documents that the merger agreement between Maimonides and the city requires preservation of existing religious and cultural practices at the hospital for at least 30 years.
“We certainly have heard concerns at community settings from the Orthodox Jewish community who are concerned about whether or not the hospital will still respect their cultural traditions,” Katz said at a New York City Council hearing earlier this month about the proposed merger. “And we’ve explained, ‘Absolutely.’” But, he acknowledged, “Change makes people worried.”
Such reassurances, however, have done little to assuage the plaintiffs in the pair of lawsuits seeking to block the merger, who include hospital’s trustees who disagreed with the decision to go public, Orthodox Jewish patient advocacy groups, and local Bobov, Satmar and Belz Hasidic congregations.
Their cases, filed against Maimonides Medical Center, the New York State Department of Health, and New York City Health and Hospitals, argue that relinquishing local control to the city hospital system jeopardizes the hospital’s Jewish character, conflicts with the nonprofit’s local mission, and threatens to deteriorate its quality of care.
The lawsuits have set up a clash between two groups who each argue they have the hospital’s best interest at heart: a city that says it wants to rescue a hospital on the brink of financial collapse, and Jewish leaders wary of public institutions, who prefer to keep the hospital’s management within the community it serves.
“Maybe at first you won’t see such a change in the culture, but over time, it’s inevitable that it’s just going to become a city-run hospital, like all the other city-run hospitals,” Martin Bienstock, a lawyer for the plaintiffs suing to block the merger, told the Forward. “If people lose trust in the hospital, because they lose that sense of affiliation, you’re going to get poorer health quality outcomes.”
The merger is set to be finalized on April 1, but could be disrupted by a judge’s pending decision on a request for a preliminary injunction blocking the transaction. The next hearing is scheduled for March 27.
A financial lifeline
Maimonides Medical Center, named for the 12th century Jewish scholar, was founded over a century ago by a group of Jewish women as a philanthropic effort to serve the poor. It has long served a diverse, largely low-income population that includes many immigrant communities, in addition to the Brooklyn neighborhood’s longstanding Jewish population.
Even as other independent hospitals shut down or merged with big medical systems, Maimonides held out. But recent years have brought mounting financial strain, exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic.
Last December, those financial troubles led the city to step in. Former Mayor Eric Adams, with just three days left in office, announced a plan to merge Maimonides Medical Center with the city’s public hospital system. Gov. Kathy Hochul endorsed the deal, backing it with a $2.2 billion grant as part of her broader push to stabilize New York’s struggling safety-net hospitals, which serve patients who can’t afford to pay for their care.
New York City’s public hospital system receives a higher Medicaid reimbursement rate than independent hospitals do — a potential lifeline for Maimonides, which receives 70% of its patient revenue from Medicare and Medicaid, according to the Healthcare Association of New York State.
The deal is poised to infuse Maimonides with more than $2 billion over five years, according to city hospital spokesperson Christopher Miller. The money will be used “for many important upgrades,” Miller said, including adopting electronic health records and renovating the hospital’s maternity ward, where more than 6,000 women give birth each per year — more babies than any other hospital in Brooklyn.
Advocates of the merger say that cash is urgently needed. Maimonides lost more than $165 million at its peak deficit in 2021 and has continued to operate tens of millions of dollars in the red in the years since, according to tax filings. A 2024 audit expressed “substantial doubt” about the organization’s ability to continue operating.
Those suing to block the transaction do not dispute that Maimonides’ finances are dire. But they argue that the hospital’s board did not adequately consider alternative options that could have allowed Maimonides to maintain its status as a private nonprofit, according to court documents that claim the hospital had snubbed potential partnerships with Touro University or Westchester Medical Center, according to court documents.
(The hospital’s CEO said in a court filing that he was not aware of any viable partners for Maimonides other than the city.)
Bienstock contends the merger will place Maimonides in the hands of an unwieldy government-sponsored bureaucracy — and under the political whims of New York City’s mayor, currently Zohran Mamdani, who oversees the city hospital system and proposes its budget.
“Any promises that they make, they’re always subject to later decisions by the Health and Hospitals board and mayor,” Bienstock said. “Ultimately, they’re going to be running the show.”
‘Grave concern’
It’s not the first time the hospital has had strained relations with the Orthodox community. During the pandemic, patients alleged that the hospital had removed patients from ventilators in ways that conflicted with Jewish values protecting the sanctity of life. Meanwhile, a campaign called “Save Maimonides,” led by local Orthodox Jewish leaders at odds with the leadership of CEO Ken Gibbs, alleged substandard patient care at the hospital and financial mismanagement.
Among the concerns was Maimonides Medical Center’s purchase of the naming rights to a minor league baseball stadium in Coney Island in 2021, and ballooning executive compensation even as the hospital lost millions. Gibbs’ salary was $3.2 million in 2020, up from $1.3 million the year prior, a payout hospital officials told THE CITY was deferred compensation Gibbs had been slated to receive after five years of work. Gibbs has earned roughly $1.8 million each year since.
In a statement to the Forward, Maimonides spokesperson Sam Miller said the hospital has won national recognition for “outstanding care across several clinical areas,” including top rank for its children’s hospital.
Asked about executive compensation and spending on the minor league baseball stadium, Miller said, “Our financial management is sound.”
Mendy Reiner, co-chair of “Save Maimonides” and founder of a nonprofit that connects patients with kidney donors, told the Forward he sees the proposed merger as yet another sign of the hospital’s decline. In his experience, locals who can afford to pay often travel across the river to Manhattan for what he described as superior care. U.S. News and World report currently ranks Maimonides 19th in the New York metro area, a market that includes some of the top-ranked academic hospitals in the nation.
“City hospitals are a failure across the board,” Reiner said. “And if we thought that Maimonides could go bad from bad to worse, here it is.”
In a statement, Miller said both Maimonides and NYC Health and Hospitals “run facilities that deliver high-quality care for their patients,” citing awards that include US News & World Report putting all 11 of the system’s hospitals on its “Best Hospitals 2025-2026” list.
H+H CEO Katz defended the public hospital system in court filings, arguing that the plaintiffs had made “inaccurate and baseless claims” about the quality of care and had “offensively” justified those allegations by pointing to the system’s large number of Medicaid patients.
Still, the proposed merger came as a shock to local state Assemblyman Simcha Eichenstein, who said he had been working with hospital leadership for years to come up with an alternative solution. In an October 2025 video address, he said the city’s proposal for Maimonides was “being shoved down our throats.”
“Let me be clear. This is a shortsighted, quick fix made without the slightest understanding of our local diverse neighborhoods,” Eichenstein said. “This is not collaboration. This is coercion.”
Hatzalah, the Jewish volunteer emergency medical service organization that partners with Maimonides, issued a letter last October “strongly” opposing the potential takeover as “not in the best interest of our community.” Hatzalah coordinators serving four heavily Orthodox Brooklyn neighborhoods — Borough Park, Crown Heights, Flatbush and Mill Basin — signed onto the letter “with grave concern.”
Since then, more Jewish institutions have joined the fight against the merger. Four Hasidic congregations — Congregation Khal Shaarei Zion Bobov, Congregation Kehilas Belz, Congregation Yetev Lev D’Satmar, and Khal Bobov 45 Inc. — signed onto the lawsuit filed against the hospital and state earlier this month, saying their congregants regularly rely on Maimonides for medical care. Other plaintiffs include Borough Park residents Chaim Beigel and Israel Minkoff, as well as the Orthodox Jewish patient advocacy groups Refuah Helpline and Chaim Medical Resource.
Miriam Knoll, CEO of the Jewish Orthodox Women’s Medical Association, said public hospitals can and do offer religious accommodations for Jewish patients. Still, she said, any new leadership must prioritize outreach to the local Jewish community to build trust.
For Knoll, the issue is close to home: She and all of her siblings were born at Maimonides, and her parents, both physicians, completed their medical residencies there.
“Maimonides is a deeply personal and important institution to the Jewish community in Brooklyn,” Knoll told the Forward. “And I think it’s very important that it continues to be a place that provides culturally sensitive care.”
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The Jewish friendship that let David Hockney experience ‘dangerous perfection’
Think of the British painter David Hockney, who died Thursday at 88, and you think of color. 1967’s “A Bigger Splash,” almost certainly his most famous work, is a study in blue so profound that it’s nearly synesthetic: The pool is such a saturated cool that you can feel the water lap your feet, and the sky so rich with California sunlight that your shoulders burn. When Hockney turned more toward landscapes in later years, trees came in every color of the rainbow — here a pink trunk, there a purple — and roads were streaked salmon and teal.
Which makes it stranger that one of the works of his that I find most evocative has no color at all. It’s a 1975 pen and ink drawing of the American Jewish artist R.B. Kitaj, one of Hockney’s dearest friends, sitting on a bench outside an art school in Vienna.
Kitaj, head propped in his hand, looks out toward the left side of the page. His face is the lone area of detail in a scene thrown together with brisk, expressive lines. There is a sense of place around him, but that place is in the act of disappearing. As the scene spreads to the right and lower edges of the page — the areas that would fall outside Kitaj’s line of sight — it ceases to exist. Kitaj’s bench is slatted, rounded and real, but the bench abutting it is depicted in a few brief strokes. The buildings and street are sketched with light attention within what seems to be Kitaj’s periphery line, and are nonexistent beyond it.
The picture is a study of a man in deep focus. Hockney draws Kitaj’s head — and by inference, everything within it — as real and lifelike. But beyond the scope of Kitaj’s vision — the material the world presents him, possibly to be made into art — Hockney shows his surroundings as being valuable only as perspective lines, helping to situate the subject in space.
To be caught thinking is a vulnerable experience. To have someone restore your sense of your own physical self is a shock. By sketching Kitaj in his moment of remove, Hockney gave a renowned and somewhat glamorous friendship a sense of life. And he gave a sense of life, too, to the thing that made his own art so attractive: the impression of a rare and gorgeous intensity of vision, one that could draw a viewer’s attention so completely that it seemed what was on the canvas was the only real thing on earth.
In his drawing of Kitaj, the line is blurred between his subject’s concentration and his own. Is it really that Kitaj is so immersed in the act of seeing — or that Hockney is, his gaze so rapt upon his friend as to make him able to capture, briefly, what it was like to see through Kitaj’s eyes?
From the first days of their friendship at the Royal College of Art, Hockney and Kitaj existed on two planes for one another: human and artistic. As each worked to find the right way to reflect their own humanity in their art, their concepts of both themselves and their work influenced one another. “I was painting about my Jews and my books and Hockney was just coming out of the closet, so I said paint that,” Kitaj once said. And another time: “He switched to his gay culture as I began on my Jewish culture in its first forms.”
When Kitaj married the painter Sandra Fisher in 1983 — after Hockney introduced them in the 1970s — Hockney was his best man. “Those orthodox Rabbis had never seen such a gang under the chuppa,” Hockney told 032c magazine in 2025. At that moment, he said, “life for me had reached a dangerous perfection.”
A “dangerous perfection.” What did that mean? I see a glimpse of the answer in Hockney’s drawing of Kitaj — a sense of connection so complete as to threaten the boundaries of selfhood. At Kitaj’s wedding, Hockney experienced that threat as a kind of transcendence: Look, how wonderful being alive among other people can be. The experience captured in his drawing of Kitaj is different, but related. It’s that of a kind of looking, and seeing, that briefly gives total knowledge.
That kind of completeness is one of the aims of friendship, and also of art. There will be much to miss about Hockney, an artist who was easy to love. But the rare experience of absolute immersion that his best work gave its viewers may have made, out of all he accomplished, the biggest splash.
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Aristotle, Jewish ethics and the vexing case of Graham Platner
In last Tuesday’s Democratic Senate primary in Maine, nearly three quarters of voters decided that Graham Platner — Iraq War veteran, oysterman, Reddit misogynist and SS tattoo bearer — was their best hope to defeat the Republican incumbent, Susan Collins, come November. While the result was wildly cheered by his supporters, other Democrats and independents were left deeply uneasy.
There are good reasons, philosophical no less than political, for this disquiet. For some Democrats, the winning approach to the election is not necessarily one that leads to victory, but instead one that leads from virtue.
Much attention has been given to the political issues raised by Platner’s candidacy. His embrace of economic populism and excoriation of our country’s oligarchy, his denunciation of forever wars and defense of the common man were and remain compelling stances. That Platner speaks his own mind, and does so simply but rarely simplistically, rather than from a script bolted together by handlers, is clearly a plus as well.
But the matter of his character also raises a serious ethical issue not just for Platner, but also for those who voted for him this spring and plan to do so again this fall. It is less a matter of achieving a good result, than of affirming the good itself.
Moral philosophy comes in three flavors: consequentialism, deontology, and virtue ethics. For reasons of space, let’s focus on the first and last. As the name suggests, consequentialism focuses not on the means but instead on the ends. But this does not mean, as some think, that any end can justify any means. Instead, philosophical consequentialists argue that acts must be judged by a simple measure: seeking the greatest good at the least moral cost.
For a hypothetical example, say I have a student who is floundering in one of my classes. They are doing their best, but for various reasons their best will probably not help them avoid a failing grade. Afraid to disappoint or depress the student, I allow them to continue in the class. Consequently, the student sinks rather than swims by semester’s end. Or, instead, I can sit down with the student earlier in the semester and suggest that they withdraw today and try again a later day when they are better prepared. The result is the least cruel and most good: some suffering in the short term rather than greater suffering in the long run.
Yet, consequentialism can be complicated. Consider the election of John Fetterman to the Senate in 2022. Faced by the prospect of voting for the Republican candidate, Democrats and independents gave Fetterman the winning margin despite a stroke he suffered during the campaign, one that raised serious questions about his capacity to hold the office. For reasons that are hard to parse, Fetterman has since broken with his fellow Democrats on several vital issues.
Rather than realizing the greater good, some Pennsylvania voters may now realize their reasoning was misplaced.
This brings us to virtue ethics, which is now enjoying a second wind among moral philosophers. Inspired by Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, virtue ethicists are less concerned with actions than they are with character. As the philosopher Todd May writes in his book The Decent Life, the key question for consequentialists (and deontologists) is “How should I act?” But for those who promote virtue ethics, the question is “How should I live?”
By this, they mean what Aristotle seems to have meant: how can we live a happy or flourishing life? The answer is by living that life in accord with virtue.
Simply put, virtues are those traits of character — think bravery and constancy, sagacity and generosity—crucial to human flourishing. And to flourish as humans requires a deep disposition to see and feel, choose and respond to the world and others in ways that align with those virtues. In the words of the late Alasdair MacIntyre, the philosopher who reintroduced virtue ethics to modern readers, “The exercise of the virtues is itself a crucial component of the good life for man.”
Inevitably, just as with the other ethical theories, there are problems with virtue ethics. But there are also advantages, principally that it seeks to build character rather than build a calculus of the highest good. This brings us back to Graham Platner. What is at issue with his campaign is not just the character of the candidate, but the character of the nation we wish to realize. The unavoidable question is not whether the ends justifies the means, but whether the means justifies the end—in this case, a nation dedicated not to winning a Senate majority, but to one dedicated to reversing the waning of virtue. Even if this means giving Susan Collins 6 more years.
Modern Jewish thinkers find ties between pagan and Jewish ethics. Yonatan Brafman, who teaches at the Jewish Theological Seminary, points to fascinating parallels between the writings of Aristotle and the medieval philosopher Moses Maimonides. The latter, Brafman suggests, sought various ways to encourage the practice of generosity. “Fulfilling the commandment of matanot le-’evyonim (gifts to the poor) and even prioritizing it over other commandments both expresses and fosters the virtue of generosity,” Brafman writes. “Moreover, in Maimonides’ view, this virtue is central to human flourishing. Generosity enables an individual to achieve divine joy.”
Of course, the exercise of generosity should apply to Platner, a man who insists that he has changed. Come November, we will learn whether this is true for our nation. As for Platner, who insists he has changed, it may take much longer for all of us to know.
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What does it say that Gwyneth Paltrow is advertising luxury Israeli real estate?
What does Gwyneth Paltrow have to do with a new luxury apartment building in Tel Aviv suburb Herzliya?
Not much, it seems, judging from a new ad that dropped this week. It features Paltrow going on a morning jog in the city — New York City, that is. She wakes up, voices some pat complaints about why “mornings have to be so early” and how her “coffee needs a coffee,” before she heads to Central Park. She comes home, showers, then asks her driver to take her to 51 Park.
Her driver asks if she means New York. “Herzliya, Israel,” she clarifies, smiling into the camera, as though the black SUV can drive across the ocean.
The ad makes so little sense that my first instinct was to think that it must be some sort of AI rendition of Paltrow. But a LinkedIn post about the project, from Gabi Attal, the CEO of the ad agency Why Worry, which made it, says that they did indeed shoot the ad in real life, in New York City, and that Paltrow is the face of the ad campaign behind a luxury apartment building called 51Park in Herzliya.
51Park is the name — though seemingly not the address — of an enormous new apartment complex that does not appear to exist yet; the website for the building is written in future tense. In renderings, two 51-story glossy towers, with — depending on which part of the website you read — either 636 or 733 apartments total, shine over a park. The neighborhood, it promises, is about to become the beating heart of Herzliya, bounded by highways, the light rail and Herzliya Park.
Paltrow, who is Jewish, has hawked a lot of weird products in her time — vagina-scented candles, anyone? And in some ways, the luxury building makes sense as a product for the actress, who has often flaunted her wealthy lifestyle. But everything else about the 51Park campaign places it back into Paltrow’s stranger offerings.
First off, of course, is the simple setting of the ad, which is nowhere near the apartment building Paltrow is lending her face to.
“To bring this architectural masterpiece to the Israeli audience, we needed a figure who effortlessly embodies international elegance, a premium lifestyle and uncompromising quality,” Attal wrote in the LinkedIn post about the ad.
No one behind the ad responded to my questions about how Paltrow was selected except the director’s agent, Tal Nathan, who said that he couldn’t comment beyond saying the actress “looks absolutely fantastic.” Still, Paltrow certainly embodies a certain kind of “premium lifestyle” — her lifestyle brand, Goop (tagline: “beauty as wellness”), sells such wealth signifiers as a $425 black tank top and a $55 “sex oil,” and also partners with other luxury brands to market expensive jewelry, clothing, and wellness accessories via Paltrow’s own website as “Gwyneth’s picks.” (These include a $225 “eyelift bioremodeling peptide matrix” and a cream for “mindfulness and intuition.”)
The actress has made her name, at least since her Oscar win in 1999, by defining an ideal of minimalist, luxurious perfection — one with little care for qualities like accessibility, approachability or reality. (She had to pay a fine after Goop sold bespoke jade eggs promising questionable health benefits for one’s “yoni.”) In fact, part of her allure is her lack of those values. Her aesthetic seeks to soar above plebian concerns like pragmatism or cost. Who cares if that $491 pewter cocktail strainer requires regular polishing to maintain its silver sheen? It’s covetable. Similarly, who cares where your luxury building is, the 51Park ad seems to say; the important part is the luxury.
Still, it seems odd to market the building to Israelis via an ad filmed in New York City, in English. Sure, New York might signify wealth and luxury in the international market. But the ad doesn’t highlight the amenities 51Park actually offers, such as proximity to Herzliya Park; it shows Paltrow in a luxury apartment in New York with convenient access to a different, and more famous, park: Central Park.
Instead, it feels as though the ad is directed at Americans, selling the idea that New York City and Herzliya are the same. That’s patently absurd though — even if we were to equate Tel Aviv and NYC, which are really not very similar outside of being their respective countries’ most cosmopolitan cities, Herzliya is neither; it’s a separate, much smaller city. Which means Herzliya is, at best, Hoboken. Perhaps that’s why Paltrow didn’t even bother flying to Israel to film the ad.
Marketing an Israeli home to Americans, however, is a controversial proposition. Over the past couple of years, Israeli companies selling homes and land to Jewish Americans, often at fairs held in synagogues, have been a target for protests. Sure, Herzliya is not in the West Bank. But for an actor to wade into obvious controversy like this, especially when she has a new major project coming up — starring as Belle Burden in an adaptation of the heiress’ best-selling memoir Strangers — is a confusing choice.
The ad was reposted by viral celebrity gossip account PopBase, leading to thousands of retweets and comments accusing her of supporting, as many commenters put it, “gwynocide.” Others said it was tone deaf to market luxury apartment buildings only a few hundred miles from razed apartments in Gaza, and compared her to the Nazi wife who enjoys her garden outside Auschwitz in the Oscar-winning film The Zone of Interest.
Yet, in the ad, Paltrow seems blissfully unaware of all that, or at least doesn’t betray the slightest political statement. It’s not the first time Paltrow has been impressively out of step with public opinion — for example, saying that being a mother while working on movie sets is harder than being a “regular” working mother who is not extremely wealthy and famous, or that she would rather die than let her child eat a “Cup-a-Soup” and would rather do crack than eat cheese out of a tin.
Paltrow’s serene smile in the ad implies she can just float above the political realities tied to Israel without touching them. The idea that one can move to Israel and live a life indistinguishable from the one you once had on Park Ave in NYC, is fundamentally a political statement, of course; not everyone has that freedom of movement, whether due to financial or political realities. But Paltrow has not responded to criticism online or to journalists reaching out to ask what she meant to say with the ad. Though she voiced support for the hostages after Oct. 7, she hasn’t implied that her ad for 51Park is any kind of statement. In fact, she’s carefully avoided making one.
Instead, Paltrow — as is so often the case with the actress famed for her snobbery — has demonstrated that she is not as interested in Israel, Gaza, the war, or Judaism as she is in the disembodied ideal of luxury. As she once said, she “can’t possibly pretend to be someone who makes $25,000 a year.” The rest isn’t important; she can ignore it.
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