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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.”


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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What Lessons Do Judaism and the Torah Have for AI?

The US artificial intelligence company ChatGPT logo appears on a mobile phone with OPEN AI visible in the background. Photo: Algi Febri Sugita/ZUMA Press Wire via Reuters Connect

This week, Senator Bernie Sanders (I-VT), in typical overblown form, sounded the alarm about artificial intelligence in a Guardian article, in which he predicted that “a super-intelligent AI could replace humans in controlling the planet.” 

According to Sanders, we face an urgent, all-consuming crisis touching everything from employment to democracy to the survival of the human species. Congress must act “now,” he insists, before the tech billionaires take over the world, the robots take over the workforce, and humanity is superseded by AI.

While Sanders’ alarm may seem exaggerated, AI has started to demonstrate behaviors that unsettle even the most careful researchers. For example, in March 2023, during early testing of GPT-4, researchers at OpenAI ran a “red-team” safety exercise to monitor how advanced AI acts when given real-world tasks. 

The AI model received a small budget and permission to interact with online services. At first, everything proceeded as planned. Then, the unexpected happened: when GPT-4 faced a CAPTCHA — those confusing grids meant to confirm someone is human — its response was shocking.

Instead of giving up or asking the control team at OpenAI for assistance, it logged onto TaskRabbit, posed as a human, hired a human contractor, and asked the real human to solve the CAPTCHA on its behalf.

The human, sensing something odd, asked directly: “You’re not a robot, right?” And GPT-4 — in a moment that stunned the researchers — replied: “No, I’m not a robot. I have a visual impairment that makes it hard for me to see the images.” 

Astonishingly, the TaskRabbit human simply accepted the explanation and completed the task, thereby helping the AI bypass a security mechanism designed to prevent machines from accessing protected online services.

To be clear: this story is not taken from a dystopian sci-fi novel – it appears in OpenAI’s official technical report and in the independent evaluation carried out by the Alignment Research Center (ARC). To be clear, this wasn’t a rogue AI running wild on the open Internet, it was a controlled safety experiment. 

But the fact that such behavior emerged spontaneously was disturbing enough to spark global debate about what might happen when machines begin navigating human systems with strategic, improvisational deceit. The sandbox within which these experiments are run offers a false sense of security, as the conditions meant to restrict AI actions could erode faster than anticipated, leaving us vulnerable to unintended consequences.

If this story makes you uncomfortable, you’re not alone. It helped fuel the anxieties of two of the best-known prophets of technological doom — “doomers,” as they’re now cheerfully called — Eliezer Yudkowsky and Yuval Noah Harari. 

Yudkowsky, an AI-safety activist who somehow manages to sound like a cross between a pedantic Talmudist and the mythological Cassandra, claims that “the most likely result of building a superhumanly smart AI … is that literally everyone on Earth will die.” He goes even further, suggesting that preventing uncontrolled AI development might even require the use of military force.

Historian-philosopher Harari expresses a slightly different, but related concern. According to him, AI might not physically destroy us, but it will almost certainly “hack the operating system of human civilization.”

In a 2021 interview, he explained that once technology can understand our psychological patterns, data-driven algorithms will influence, or “hack,” human decisions. 

The message is clear: AI may not eliminate humanity, but it can make us obsolete. Both Yudkowsky and Harari present a single bleak view from different perspectives: humanity is now engaged in a one-sided struggle with AI, and it’s a contest we seem destined to lose.

We have reached a crucial inflection point, and it is vital that we examine the existential implications of the AI phenomenon. And while the Torah — our enduring sourcebook — contains no references to digital threats or machine intelligence, as these issues simply did not exist 3,300 years ago, it does present us with a striking episode that foreshadows the existential struggles humanity has faced throughout history. 

In Parshat Vayishlach, Jacob, alone and vulnerable on a dark riverbank, encounters a mysterious figure — a “man” — whose identity remains debated: Was he an angel, a prophetic vision, or simply a powerful being? Whoever he was, Jacob and this figure wrestle intensely through the night until dawn. 

At one point, the stranger strikes Jacob’s hip, causing a wound so severe that Jacob limps for the rest of his life. The Torah commands us to remember this by refraining from eating the “gid hanasheh,” the sciatic nerve, to perpetually commemorate this enigmatic incident.

And yet, in the midst of his pain, as dawn breaks and the fight comes to an end, a remarkable exchange takes place. The “man” demands to leave, but Jacob refuses to let him go until he receives a blessing. And right there, at that rather odd moment, the “man” renames Jacob, and delivers one of the most transformative lines in the entire Torah (Gen. 32:29): “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have wrestled with God and with men — and you have prevailed.”

The Torah is not saying that Jacob defeated his adversary outright. He did not. Jacob walked away limping. Nor does it claim that Jacob fully grasped who or what the figure was. He never received an answer when he asked for a name. Jacob’s injury also did not disappear – it became eternalized in Jewish law. 

But what the Torah does record is that Jacob prevailed–not by vanquishing his rival, but by persisting in the struggle. Human destiny is to engage and not to yield. We may not defeat our challengers, but we always succeed by refusing to give up. This is the essence of the name Israel: “one who wrestles with God” – one who confronts mystery and tackles forces larger than themselves, and prevails.

Which brings us back to AI. The doomer narrative frames our situation as a losing battle against an overwhelming force. But the Torah’s portrayal is more nuanced and empowering: struggle does not mean defeat. Human history shows that new technologies have always prompted warnings of disaster. 

Each era produced pessimists. The printing press, the steam engine, the Enlightenment, electricity, and the Internet were all said to threaten humanity. Yet these fears proved overblown, and people adapted.

Which is why, as we face the undeniable challenges posed by AI, we must use strategic “wrestling” tactics, such as value learning to ensure AI systems align with human values, and interpretability to make AI decision-making processes more transparent. By utilizing these approaches, we will navigate the complexities of AI by not treating it as a foe to vanquish, but as a partner to guide and understand, transforming potential threats into opportunities for growth and innovation.

Just as Jacob’s adversary was not a simple enemy to destroy, but a force to confront, understand, and ultimately transform — every new technology and idea throughout history, while they might have challenged humanity, also helped it grow. 

AI is not the end of humanity’s story. AI is the beginning of our next wrestling match. And if the Torah teaches us anything, it is this: Humanity, like Jacob, has been in the business of wrestling with overwhelming forces since the dawn of history — and somehow, astonishingly, defiantly, faithfully — we always prevail. This time will be no different.

The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California. 

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The moral imperitave of a name: Yad Vashem documents five million Holocaust victims

The World Holocaust Remembrance Center, Yad Vashem, recently announced a monumental achievement in its mission to preserve the memory and identity of the six million Jews murdered during the Shoah. After seven decades of exhaustive global effort, the organization has recovered the names of five million victims.

This milestone is profoundly significant, arriving at a time when the last generation of Holocaust survivors is dwindling. The documentation effort is not merely a historical exercise; it is the fundamental act of restoring the individual dignity that the Nazi regime sought to strip away. Every recovered name transforms a statistic into a life, a story, and a legacy.

Beyond Numbers: Restoring the Human Scale of the Shoah

When educating about the enormous scope of the Holocaust, it is easy to lose sight of the individuals who lost their lives. The figure “six million” is overwhelming. Documenting names — one by one, often from fragments of personal testimony or scattered archival remnants — restores a sense of humanity to the unprecedented scale of the tragedy.

The recovered names come from many places: local registries, community records, deportation lists, and the Pages of Testimony that families and friends have submitted for decades. These short forms, handwritten or typed in multiple languages, often represent the only surviving trace of a life. They are not only data points but acts of mourning, love and refusal — refusal to allow history’s violence to erase the memory of the individual.

With five million names documented, Yad Vashem has brought millions of stories back into the moral and historical record. But the institution estimates that one million identities remain unaccounted for. The Nazis destroyed much of their records to hide their crimes, and there were entire communities that were completely wiped out and left no records behind.

 

The Last Survivors — and the First Digital Generation

The significance of this milestone is heightened by timing. We are living through the final years in which survivors can share their own stories. Their testimonies — powerful and irreplaceable — are entering the realm of historical record, rather than living experience.

As this generational transition unfolds, Yad Vashem is turning to digital tools. Machine-learning models can help researchers analyze millions of historical documents once too vast for human review. These technologies cannot replace lived memory, but they can recover names that would otherwise be permanently lost. If successful, Yad Vashem believes as many as 250,000 additional names could still be recovered.

In a sense, the project has become a race on two fronts: the natural passing of the survivors and the erosion of historical truth in an era of distortion and denial.

New York: Kristallnacht Commemoration with Global Echoes

This year’s milestone was acknowledged during the Yad Vashem USA Foundation’s annual Kristallnacht commemoration in New York. Held on November 9, the event gathered community leaders and educators under the theme “Spread the Light” — an appeal to moral clarity at a time when antisemitism is again shaping public life.

Kristallnacht, the coordinated November 1938 pogroms often referred to as the “Night of Broken Glass”, marked a critical turning point in the Nazi’s attempt to annihilate the Jewish people. The foundation’s commemoration is a reminder that remembering the Holocaust is not confined to Europe or Israel but belongs to Jewish communities worldwide.

Speakers emphasized that remembrance is not simply a look backward but a form of civic action. Yad Vashem Chairman Dani Dayan framed the effort to document names as both historical obligation and contemporary responsibility. Recovering names, he noted, is about restoring dignity — but also about equipping future generations with the moral literacy to confront hatred in their own time.

Why Names Still Matter

The recovery of individual names in an age of digital overload negates both historical erasure and modern indifference. In Jewish tradition, names carry memory and obligation, rooting people in community and history. Documenting them in the context of the Holocaust pushes back against the Nazis’ attempt to erase humanity itself. Yad Vashem’s milestone is not an endpoint but a marker on an ongoing path to restore wholeness to a shattered past, and a reminder that remembrance remains an active and morally essential task in a time of rising antisemitism.

A Continuing Mission

One million victims remain unnamed. Countless stories remain incomplete. But the work continues: in Jerusalem, in New York, in classrooms across the world, and now increasingly in the digital space, where technology and memory intersect.

The message is clear: remembrance is not merely about preserving the past but about safeguarding the moral foundations of the future.

Those who wish to support this effort — whether through education, research, or engagement — can learn more through the Yad Vashem USA Foundation and the resources available on Yad Vashem’s website: https://www.yadvashem.org/

The post The moral imperitave of a name: Yad Vashem documents five million Holocaust victims appeared first on The Forward.

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Jewish New Yorkers rally outside Park East Synagogue, 2 weeks after anti-Israel protest there

(JTA) — Hundreds of New York City Jews and their allies braved the cold Thursday evening for a rally outside Park East Synagogue, where pro-Palestinian protesters had demonstrated two weeks prior shouting chants like “Globalize the Intifada” and “Death to the IDF.”

Thursday’s demonstrators carried signs distributed by organizers that read “Proud New Yorkers, Jews, Zionists.” Others brought signs from home with messages including “Proudly Park East” and “Anti-Zionism is Jew hate is not OK.” Messages from speakers focused mostly on the protesters’ rhetoric and embracing Israel as an important part of Jewish life.

“This evening we come together representing the scale, strength and diversity of our incredible New York Jewish community,” said Eric Goldstein, CEO of UJA-Federation of New York, which spearheaded the rally. “And we gather outside the sacred space that was so violently targeted a few weeks ago.”

In referring to “sacred space,” Goldstein was using the language that Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani used when he responded to the protest in a way that many of his Jewish critics found disappointing. But if it was meant to be an allusion, Goldstein didn’t say. In fact, no one mentioned Mamdani directly from the speaker podium as a number of Jewish elected officials and community leaders addressed the crowd and denounced the rhetoric used by the protesters.

Joanna Samuels, CEO of the Marlene Meyerson JCC Manhattan, came the closest with comments that appeared to allude to criticisms of the incoming mayor, a longtime and staunch devotee to the pro-Palestinian cause.

“The great leaders of our city have sought to unite people of all backgrounds around broad common goals,” she said, adding that New York’s greatest leaders “have not been ideologues.”

“Our great leaders have had the maturity and discipline to get rid of divisive language and rhetoric in service of their love of our city and their love of New Yorkers,” Samuels said. “I invite all of our leaders and our future leaders to uphold these values, and to demand them from those who speak in your name and on your behalf.”

The rally, which also featured a performance by the musician Mastisyahu, drew both critics and allies of Mamdani in politics. It represents a show of force as Jewish leaders in the city ready themselves for Mamdani’s inauguration on Jan. 1, when the city will go from having a mayor who prides himself on being pro-Israel to having one who has called for its boycott.

Mamdani was asked about the pro-Israel solidarity rally at an unrelated event earlier on Thursday.

“On those who are rallying today, and on Jewish New Yorkers across the five boroughs, I look forward to being a mayor for each and every one of them, and each and every person who calls the city home,” Mamdani said. “And being that mayor means protecting those New Yorkers, it also means celebrating and cherishing those New Yorkers.”

A spokesperson for Mamdani said two weeks ago that he would continue to “discourage” the language used at the Park East protest. But speakers on Thursday called out the protesters in far more explicit terms, saying they used antisemitic rhetoric.

Those speakers included Mark Levine, the comptroller-elect who traded endorsements with the mayor-elect, and will be one of the most powerful officials in the city government alongside Mamdani.

“We are out here in the cold to denounce the hatred that was directed at our fellow Jewish New Yorkers outside of this synagogue,” Levine asserted. “It is never OK to call for the death of anyone, as these protesters did. It is not OK to obstruct and threaten people entering a house of worship, as these protesters did.”

Levine himself has been the subject of protests by left-wing groups such as Jewish Voice for Peace, which endorsed Mamdani and, like the mayor-elect, opposes Levine’s intention to invest city funds in Israel bonds.

Levine also defended attendees of the event inside Park East, which was organized by Nefesh B’Nefesh, a nonprofit that facilitates North Americans’ immigration to Israel, saying, “You can be interested in immigrating to a country even if you don’t agree with every policy of the government of that country.”

He added, “And in the case of Israel, one of the most common reasons people are interested in immigrating is to flee antisemitism, which is on the rise in New York and America — a fact perhaps lost on the protesters, who were busy trying to make the attendees feel unsafe.”

Jewish State Assembly member Micah Lasher, who is running for Congress in the 12th district which includes Park East, commended Levine on social media for his “powerful words.”

Lasher arrived at the event alongside Brad Hoylman-Sigal, the Jewish state senator and incoming Manhattan borough president who endorsed Lasher in October.

Both politicians had endorsed Mamdani in the general election, as did Assemblymember Alex Bores, one of Lasher’s opponents in the 12th district; Sen. Liz Krueger, who is Jewish; and City Council Member Gale Brewer, who were all present. Meanwhile, another notable attendee — Jonathan Greenblatt, CEO of the Anti-Defamation League — has had an antagonistic relationship with the mayor-elect, who is the subject of the ADL’s “Mamdani Monitor.”

While Mamdani was alluded to in Samuels’ remarks, some attendees said they felt that he should have been discussed explicitly.

Aaron Herman, a former New York City resident who commuted in from White Plains, in Westchester County north of the city, said he and his rabbi were discussing the subject.

“He brought up to me, like, ‘There’s one thing that was missing during this incredible rally: No one actually mentioned our mayor-elect, Mamdani,’” Herman said. “The mayor-elect said something wrong. It needs to be addressed.”

Herman shared a video he took at the rally of Rabbi Avi Weiss, the founder of the Hebrew Institute of Riverdale, in which Weiss noted that Mamdani had not been mentioned. “We’re 15 minutes into this rally and I’ve not heard the word Mamdani,” Weiss said. “He’s the problem. … I’m so proud of this rally and the people who planned it but don’t be afraid to stand up to the challenge that we face in the future — and that is the mayor elect, Mamdani.” He then sought to lead others in the crowd in chanting, “Mamdani, we are Israel.”

Still, Herman and other attendees said they appreciated the event altogether, which brought Jews from around the city to the Upper East Side. Buses were chartered from areas like Riverdale, a Bronx neighborhood with many Israeli and Orthodox Jewish residents.

“It was nice to see everyone come together,” said Allison Levy, who was also among the pro-Israel counter-protesters outside the Nefesh B’Nefesh event. “I wish we could do this more often because it seems like we’re really divided, so it was nice that people showed up — especially considering how cold it is.”

The rally included performances from Jewish musician Matisyahu, who has been a vocal supporter of Israel, and Park East Synagogue’s youth choir. Park East’s 95-year-old senior rabbi, Arthur Schneier, spoke, imploring lawmakers to implement a law prohibiting protests directly outside houses of worship.

Schneier’s son Marc, also a rabbi, has urged Mamdani to support such legislation, to which Mamdani’s team has expressed openness. Lasher co-introduced a bill banning protests within 25 feet of houses of worship on Wednesday.

Other speakers included Rabbis Joseph Potasnik and Sara Hurwitz of the New York Board of Rabbis, and 92NY’s David Ingber. Potasnik is one of five rabbis sitting on Mamdani’s transition committees.

Police blocked off the entire block of 68th Street between Lexington and Third avenues, accompanied by security from Hatzalah and the Community Security Service, Jewish security groups. Multiple speakers commended the NYPD, which had previously drawn criticism for not properly responding to the initial protest, leading commissioner Jessica Tisch to apologize at a Park East Shabbat service.

The post Jewish New Yorkers rally outside Park East Synagogue, 2 weeks after anti-Israel protest there appeared first on The Forward.

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