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A Holocaust survivor and her family saw ‘Leopoldstadt.’ The Broadway play told their story.
(New York Jewish Week) — On a Wednesday evening last month, three generations of a Jewish family made their way to their seats at the Longacre Theater to see “Leopoldstadt,” Tom Stoppard’s epic Broadway play about the tragedies that befall an extended Jewish family in the first half of the 20th century in Vienna.
The date of the family gathering was a significant one: Nov. 9, the 84th anniversary of the Nazi pogroms known as Kristallnacht. And in the audience was Fini Konstat, 96, who lived in the once thriving Jewish neighborhood after which the play is named, and witnessed the horrors it portrays first-hand. Alongside her were her daughter and her son-in-law, Renee and James Akers, and her oldest great-grandchild, Lexi Levin, 23.
When Konstat was a child, she lived in a “nice apartment” in Leopoldstadt. But exactly 84 years to the day of their theater date, “I was running with my father, seeing all the Jewish stores with all their windows broken,” she told Levin in a short video her great-granddaughter filmed before the curtain rose.
“It’s such a blessing for me to be here with you,” Levin said to her great-grandmother in response. “Ninety-six years old, survived a pandemic, at a Broadway show in New York City.”
Left: Fini as a child on the balcony of her apartment in Leopoldstadt. Right: Fini with her three children in front of the very same building, pictured in 2015. (Courtesy)
Since the beginning of its Broadway run in mid-September, “Leopoldstadt,” with its depiction of a prosperous Viennese family on the brink of destruction, has moved audiences to tears and inspired deep reflections on the Holocaust. Based on the celebrated playwright’s own family history — of which he was barely aware while growing up in England — it has provided a stark counterpoint to news about rising antisemitism and the celebrities who have been purveying it.
But for Konstat, the play was much more personal. “When I heard the word ‘Leopoldstadt,’ this alone gave me lots of thrills and memories,” Konstat, who is known in her family as Mimi, told the New York Jewish Week in accented English. She recalled how Levin, who recently moved to the city, invited her to fly to New York to see one of Broadway’s hottest tickets.
“Leopoldstadt,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “The second district. That’s where we lived.”
At the end of Stoppard’s five-act play, audiences learn that most of the Jewish characters had perished under the Nazis — of the four generations in the show, just three cousins survive to carry on the family’s legacy.
For Konstat too, she and her parents were among the very few in their extended family to survive the Holocaust. “Almost all of them went to Auschwitz or other camps,” Konstat said. “My mother was a twin and only the twins remained alive. [My mother’s] five other siblings and my grandmother perished.”
L-R: Renee Akers, James Akers, Lexi Levin and Fini Konstat at the Longacre Theater to see Tom Stoppard’s ‘Leopoldstadt on Broadway,’ Nov. 9, 2022. (Courtesy)
In a Zoom conversation held over Thanksgiving weekend, Konstat, surrounded by two of her daughters, two of her granddaughters and three of her great-granddaughters, shared what the play meant to her — and how her family has restored what she lost.
In the months after Kristallnacht in 1938, Konstat and her parents hid in a neighbor’s apartment; Konstat recalls hiding under the duvet when German soldiers showed up. Eventually the family fled to Turkey, and then to India, before settling down in Mexico City. There, the teenage Fini met her husband David, also a survivor who escaped Poland. The two of them began to write the rest of their story — starting with the birth of the first of their three children in 1948.
Unlike many Holocaust survivors, Fini and David Konstat were open about their experiences during the war, instilling a sense of pride and duty to remember in their children — something that eventually extended to their grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
“They were proud to speak about how they survived this,” said the Konstats’ middle child, Renee Konstat Akers. “Their life was an odyssey. They had the courage to do things that you would never think were possible. We grew up grateful knowing how our family survived in that incredible way.”
Each child moved to different places as they grew up and got married. Manuel, the oldest, stayed in Mexico. Renee married an American and moved to the Midwest, and Denise, the youngest, to Houston. Each became deeply involved in their Jewish communities, sending their children (Konstat’s grandchildren) to Jewish day schools, celebrating Jewish holidays and participating in synagogue life.
“The word ‘miracle’ really does not feel like an understatement in this scenario,” said Sherry Levin, one of Konstat’s grandchildren. “When we think about what it took for my grandmother and grandfather to survive and how they were able to intersect in Mexico, and such an amazing multi-generational family has come to fruition, it feels miraculous.”
Pictured here on their 40th anniversary, Fini and her husband David met in Mexico City after both had fled Europe. They were married 54 years before David died in 2001. (Courtesy)
Reviews of the show have ranged from rhapsodic to resistant, with some critics suggesting the play is simplistic and obvious in its story-telling or that it is less a well-crafted play than a well-meaning lesson on the Holocaust.
But just as the Merz family clashes and argues about everything from antisemitism to intermarriage to socialism in “Leopoldstadt,” each generation of the Konstat family that saw “Leopoldstadt” that night came away with something different — a reaction influenced by their age, their Jewish identity, their nationality and their relationship with their family.
For Konstat, the arc of “Leopoldstadt” was so familiar that it hardly stirred her. “It was just very happy watching it and enjoying it and enjoying my children with me, “ she told the New York Jewish Week. “I didn’t think about anybody else.”
Akers, too, felt an intense familiarity with the story, and, perhaps toughened by her own family history, didn’t experience an intense emotional reaction. Her own parents’ lives gave Akers a sense of purpose in her life — for example, in the 1990s, she was passionate about helping resettle Jews fleeing the former Soviet Union. With her own children, she instilled in them a strong sense of Jewish purpose in their work, their education and their family.
“I was a sandwich in between seeing my mother and my granddaughter,” she said of her “Leopoldstadt” experience. “I was emotional thinking of my mom who went through it, but I was more emotional about seeing my granddaughter be so moved. It really hit her at her core.”
Indeed, it was the youngest member of the family present that night who was most shaken by the play.
“It really felt like a gift to my family and to me, specifically, to be able to see what Mimi’s life looked like before the war,” Lexi Levin said, surmising that, as a fourth-generation survivor, she is among the first in her family to be able to start processing the loss on a grander scale.
“For the first time in my life, I really felt the magnitude of her loss,” she added. “I’ve known her story and I’ve been inspired by her story to be involved with my own Jewish causes, but I have never been able to access and truly empathize with her grief and what it meant that she lost the entire family she had before this one that she created.”
Turning to her great-grandmother, as if trying to make her understand the exact precision of the show, Levin explained, “It’s a play about generations and the family was large and then it was small.”
“You made it large again,” she said, referring to the generations of family that had assembled — in the Broadway theater and again over Thanksgiving weekend. “Look at this room.”
Pictured on her 90th birthday in 2017, Fini Konstat now has three children, ten grandchildren and twenty great-grandchildren. (Courtesy)
There was a coda for the family after the curtain went down. The day after the show, the family wanted to see the 1907 “Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I,” one of Gustav Klimt’s most famous paintings, which currently hangs at the Neue Galerie on the Upper East Side. A version of the portrait’s true story — how a painting of a socialite from a prominent Viennese Jewish family was looted by the Nazis and the family’s efforts to get it back — features in the plot of “Leopoldstadt.”
The gallery, however, was closed on the only day the family could visit. After a call to the management at the gallery, which showcases the German and Austrian art collections of Jewish philanthropist Ronald S. Lauder, the gallery’s director arranged a private tour.
“It felt like we were in a puzzle and everything was finally coming together,” said Akers. “It was an emotional, emotional time.”
When the week was over and the emotions were spent, Konstat and the Akers returned home with a reignited passion for their family story. But there was yet another twist: In addition to the whirlwind trip Levin planned for her grandparents and for Mimi, she had been undergoing the laborious process of applying for Austrian citizenship. Six members in Konstat’s large family have undertaken the process over the last two years.
“Part of the motivation was knowing Mimi’s story, and knowing that she survived because her mother had citizenship in Turkey,” Levin said. “That story was just inspirational to me, knowing that dual citizenship was what saved our family.” She convinced her brother and mother to apply for Austrian citizenship as well.
The day after her grandmother and great-grandmother left New York, Levin called them with news from her small apartment in Manhattan: An Austrian passport had arrived in the mail. The curtain was rising on another act.
Konstat was surprised at how interested her family was in getting Austrian citizenship. “I feel very good,” she said. “I’m very happy.”
“Does it make you emotional?” Levin asked her during the Zoom call with the New York Jewish Week.
“It does — of course it does. I used to love Austria,” she said. “I was sad to leave. I was disappointed. We never thought of coming back. I was happy to be able to escape. Thank God we made it out of hell.”
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The post A Holocaust survivor and her family saw ‘Leopoldstadt.’ The Broadway play told their story. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Are Jews Fools to Consider Forgiving Kanye West?
Ye, formerly known as Kanye West. Photo: BANG Showbiz via Reuters Connect
Kanye West’s advertisement apologizing to Jews in The Wall Street Journal, which was not a good choice of publication, as it plays into stereotypes of Jews controlling money, has raised an important question at a time when many Jews feel desperate in the wake of rising antisemitism:
Should Jews forgive Kanye?
The conventional wisdom would be not to. In October 2022, he tweeted that he was going to go “death con 3 on Jewish people” and sadly opened a Pandora’s box, where it was cool to be antisemitic. This, of course, was before the attacks of October 7, 2023, and set up a prelude to podcasters blaming Israel for all the world’s ills, and saying that “it shouldn’t be forbidden to criticize Israel” (which, of course, it isn’t).
West is addicted to attention, and his outspoken hatred of Jews clearly gave him that. There are also people who claimed that West hated Jews because he blamed them for his break-up with Kim Kardashian.
But Jews cannot react out of fear or appeasement, and I am embarrassed for some Jewish influencers online who posted that Kanye should be forgiven. Mental illness or not, Kanye West has done incredible damage to the Jewish community.
His song “Heil Hitler” was one of the worst things I’ve seen. He also offended the Black community by psychotically saying that “slavery was a choice.”
Would his followers who say that Hitler was right suddenly flip if Kanye did? It’s hard to say. They might claim that Jews or Israel paid West to change his position.
I’ve also seen some people say that they believe West is sincere. But in life, one shows sincerity by actions, not by words. The question of forgiveness should not even be addressed until West takes some actions that show he means business.
Here are a few things he could do to show contrition:
1. Tell Candace Owens to Chill
Owens has fallen off the deep end, obsessing over Israel, possibly due to her anger of being fired by The Daily Wire. West should call for her to apologize, and stop blaming Israel for everything from the Charlie Kirk murder to the assassination of JFK. West would be helping to stop antisemitism, and also helping Owens, who he says is a friend.
2. Tell Tucker Carlson to Start Acting Like an American
Carlson is head over heels in love with Qatar and Russia, and hates Israel. Perhaps West could also remind Carlson that Winston Churchill was a good guy, not a villain, and that Carlson should stop demonizing Israel.
3. Rebuke Nick Fuentes
Fuentes, a young antisemite growing in popularity, wants to be West’s friend. West should tell Fuentes that he should be a man and stop blaming all the world’s problems on Israel, as if the Jewish State controls the universe — which it does not.
4. Go to Israel and Have Discussions with Jews of Color
Due to the myth of Israel being the “white colonizer,” many are unaware there are Jews of color. When you count Arabic Jews in the fold, more than half of Israel would be considered “diverse” by US standards. Unfortunately, these Jews are not given enough screen time on news shows and debates, and it would be educational for the world to see the truth.
5. Create a Music Video Where He Mocks Antisemitism
In a video with Jewish artists, West can show that antisemitism is neither cool nor strong, and the sign of a weak person who seeks to scapegoat a small minority in order to feel powerful.
6. West Should Study Judaism with a Group of Rabbis for a Set Period of Time
This would show the beginnings of contrition.
All in all, it is foolish to immediately say that West should be forgiven, and it is a sign of people who live in fear or simply want attention or hope that West actually is sincere. But as the automated New York City subway message reminds us, we need to see something before we say something.
The author is a writer based in New York.
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Prominent British LGBTQ activist arrested for carrying ‘globalize the intifada’ sign in London
(JTA) — British LGBTQ activist Peter Tatchell was arrested for holding a sign with the phrase “globalize the intifada” at a pro-Palestinian march in London on Saturday.
Tatchell’s arrest comes weeks after the police in London announced that they would arrest pro-Palestinian protesters who chant “globalize the intifada.” While the common pro-Palestinian phrase is defended by its supporters as a rallying call to expand international pressure on Israel, critics say it amounts to a call for violence against Jews.
The policy change came in the wake of the attack on a Hanukkah celebration in Sydney that killed 15. It followed other efforts by the British government to tighten limits on what pro-Palestinian protesters can say and do, including a ban on the activist group Palestine Action that has made any show of support illegal.
Tatchell, 74, who is known as one of England’s most prominent gay rights activists, wrote in a post on X that he had “opposed Hamas since it was formed & opposed ALL Islamists (Iran, Hezbollah etc).” But he said the Metropolitan Police’s new policy was an overreach.
“Police are fabricating new laws. There is no legal statute that criminalises ‘intifada,’” wrote Tatchell in a post on X decrying his arrest. “By arresting me, police seem to be reacting to pressure from a foreign regime – Israel – & Netanyahu apologists, to silence public support for Palestinians’ right to resist Israeli occupation.”
The full text of Tatchell’s sign at the rally read “Globalise the intifada: Non-violent resistance. End Israel’s occupation of Gaza & West Bank.” Tatchell said he was detained for 12 hours.
Last May, Tatchell was arrested at another pro-Palestinian protest in London for carrying a sign that read “STOP Israel GENOCIDE! STOP Hamas executions!” He said police had accused him of breaching the peace and that pro-Palestinian protesters had accused him of being a pro-Israel plant because he called out Hamas in addition to Israel.
Thirteen people were arrested on Saturday during the Palestine Coalition protest and one person was arrested from the Stop The Hate UK counter protest, according to London’s Metropolitan Police.
The London protest was not the only pro-Palestinian demonstration this weekend to feature calls for an “intifada.”
A coalition of Jewish groups denounced a rally in Philadelphia on Sunday in which marchers chanted calls for an intifada. According to the groups, one speaker said, “Martyrdom is a commitment, a principle. It gives life to the movement and carries it forward…our task is to identify tangible, precise ways to attack the genocidal Zionist enemy and actually f—ing attack.”
The rally was organized by the Philly Palestine Coalition, which has previously targeted Jewish-owned restaurants in the city.
“This was not a metaphor or abstract political speech,” said the statement from the groups, Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia, Anti-Defamation League Philadelphia and American Jewish Committee Philadelphia/Southern NJ. “It was explicit incitement for violence. Such language and imagery are dangerous, antisemitic and unacceptable.”
The post Prominent British LGBTQ activist arrested for carrying ‘globalize the intifada’ sign in London appeared first on The Forward.
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Tu B’Shvat, Conscious Eating, and the Jewish Call to Return
Orange trees in Israel’s northern Galilee region. Photo: פואד מועדי / Wikimedia Commons
Tu B’Shvat, the Jewish New Year for the Trees, is often celebrated simply: fruit on the table, blessings over figs and dates, and a nod to nature in the middle of winter. For those who do things a bit more lavishly, a ceremony or seder is conducted.
But at its core, the holiday of Tu B’Shvat is far more than a seasonal celebration. It is a day that offers a profound Jewish teaching about food, responsibility, and the possibility of return.
To understand that teaching, we have to go back to the very first act of eating in the Torah.
In the Garden of Eden, God gives Adam and Eve permission to eat freely from nearly everything around them. Only one boundary is set: there is one tree that is off limits. When Adam and Eve cross that boundary, the result is a rupture of faith between humans and God, which results in a series of other ruptures between humans and the earth — and humans and themselves.
One of the great Chassidic masters, Rabbi Tzadok HaKohen (1823-1900), suggested that the problem was not simply what they ate, but how they ate: without awareness, without restraint, and without consciousness. They consumed, rather than received.
Five hundred years ago, the kabbalists of Tzfat transformed Tu B’Shvat from a technical agricultural date into a spiritual opportunity. They taught that the world is filled with sparks of holiness, and that our everyday actions, especially eating, can either elevate those sparks or bury them further. This lesson has recently been discussed by the Jerusalem-based educator Sarah Yehuit Schneider.
Eating, in Jewish thought, is never neutral.
When we eat with intention and gratitude, we participate in tikkun olam, repairing the world. When we eat mindlessly, we reenact the mistake of Eve and Adam from the Garden of Eden.
The holiday of Tu B’Shvat invites us to try again.
There is another detail worth noting. The Torah’s first description of the human diet is explicitly plant-based: “I have given you every seed-bearing plant and every fruit-bearing tree; it shall be yours for food.” That diet, which was given in Eden, does not end with humanity’s exile from paradise. For generations to come, until after the great flood in the time of Noah, that diet continued in a world already marked by moral compromise.
On Tu B’Shvat, when Jews sit down to a table of fruit, we are quietly returning to that original vision of eating plant-based food that sustains life without taking it, nourishment that reflects restraint rather than domination.
That idea feels especially urgent today.
Our food choices now affect far more than our own bodies. They shape the treatment of animals, the health of the planet, and the sustainability of our food systems. Eating “without knowing” is something that carries grave consequences, which are all too visible in our society.
To observe conscious eating today means asking hard questions: Who is harmed by this choice? What systems does it support? What kind of world does it help create?
In my work as a rabbi and educator with Jewish Vegan Life, I encounter many Jews grappling with these questions, most of whom possess a desire to align their daily choices with enduring Jewish values of compassion, responsibility, and reverence for life.
Tu B’Shvat reminds us that Judaism does not demand perfection, but it does demand awareness. It teaches that repair is possible, not only through grand gestures, but through daily choices repeated with intention.
Redemption begins when a person makes a choice to eat their meal consciously. This is what the seder on Passover is for and what it reminds us of, and the same holds true for the seder on Tu B’Shvat.
The custom to eat fruits on Tu B’Shvat, the choice to have a seder or ceremony, reminds us of the consciousness that we must approach all of our meals with. On Tu B’Shvat, we are being asked to reconsider how we eat, how we live, and how we might take one small step closer to the world as it was meant to be. It is, after all, according to the Mishna in tractate Rosh Hashanah, one of the four New Years of the Jewish calendar.
Rabbi Akiva Gersh, originally from New York, has been working in the field of Jewish and Israel education for more than 20 years. He lives with his wife, Tamar, and their four kids in Pardes Hanna. He is the Senior Rabbinic Educator at Jewish Vegan Life. https://jewishveganlife.