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A Jewish expert on monuments on what Philly’s famous Rocky Balboa statue can teach us about memory
(JTA) — Paul Farber was shocked when he first watched “Rocky” and saw a Star of David on the grave of Rocky Balboa’s coach, Mickey Goldmill.
As a Jew and as the founder of the Philadelphia-based Monument Lab, which has explored collective memory through art installations across the country for over a decade, Farber was well positioned to think about the deeper meaning of that brief shot.
“Anytime I see a Jewish funeral in a film, there’s some kind of call to attention. And I always want to know what that means, especially for a Hollywood production, especially when it may not be branded as a Jewish story,” he told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
“We’re not there in a prolonged series of mourning, but in a split second, seeing a Jewish site of a memory is really fascinating,” he added.
That outlook lies behind Farber’s work as the host of the new NPR podcast “The Statue,” a deep dive into Philadelphia’s famed statue of Rocky Balboa, the fictional prizefighter at the center of “Rocky.” The series delves into what sports and society can convey about memory, and in his research, Farber discovered a few Jewish nuggets found in the film series — including the fact that Rocky’s love interest was originally supposed to be Jewish.
“They made an actual gravestone [for her character] and it’s in Philadelphia’s most famous cemetery, Laurel Hill. And you can go there and see this gravestone where a movie character is ‘buried,’” he said. “People leave offerings on the gravestone, including small pebbles as if it’s a Jewish site of memory.”
In an interview with JTA, Farber shared his inspiration for the series, how his Jewish upbringing informed his life’s work and the role statues — such as that of Jewish baseball legend Sandy Koufax — do, and should, play.
This interview was lightly edited for length and clarity.
Jewish Telegraphic Agency: To start off, I’d love to hear about how you first got interested in studying monuments.
Paul Farber: I’m really interested in the ways that, in cities, we innovate toward the future, and also come to terms with our past, and it happens often in the same exact places. That could be a statue, a street, a corner store. And so that’s a big part for me.
What really inspired this project is a conversation I had with my mother, quite a few years ago. My mother is a lifelong Philadelphian. Her parents were Jewish immigrants in South Philadelphia. And when I told her I was teaching a class at the University of Pennsylvania about Philly neighborhoods, she asked me if I was covering Rocky. When I said, “Oh, it’s not on the syllabus” — and I may have said it in a way that felt dismissive — she gave me this look that I think a lot of us know: “How could you.” So for her birthday, we watched “Rocky” and we went to see “Creed.” My grandfather went to South Philly High and was in the boxing club. He shared stories in our family about what it meant to have sport and culture and belonging go together in South Philly. I started to see that across generations, from long before “Rocky” to this moment now, almost 50 years after the release of the film, many people’s family stories could be channeled through this statue, including my own, and that was enough of a prompt to go dive in.
“Rocky” is obviously not a Jewish story, but there are some nuggets. There’s the funeral scene, and you mentioned something about Adrian almost being Jewish. I’m curious what you think about the little Jewish pieces you can pull out of this famous story, and what those mean to you as a Philly sports fan.
It blew me away that Rocky’s coach, Mick, passes away and the character Rocky goes to his funeral, and you see a Star of David. Anytime I see a Jewish funeral in a film, there’s some kind of call to attention. And I always want to know what that means, especially for a Hollywood production, especially when it may not be branded as a Jewish story. And it just opened up a whole set of questions for me that blurred between art and life, between the film series and the city of Philadelphia.
In episode two, we showcase this monumental art book that Sylvester Stallone [who played Rocky] created. There was this passage in it that just blew me away, about the first draft of “Rocky,” where he says, “As for Adrian, she was Jewish in the first draft.” And he got feedback and cut that character. We never hear about Mickey’s Judaism. We never hear about Rocky’s bond across culture. But the fact that the first scene in the “Rocky” series is in a place called Resurrection Gym — that is obvious Christian iconography — and to put Jewish characters in is really fascinating to me.
There is another famous grave that is involved in the series. The character Adrian eventually passes away, and like the statue, which was made as a bronze sculpture, for the “Rocky” film series they made an actual gravestone and it’s in Philadelphia’s most famous cemetery, Laurel Hill. And you can go there and see this gravestone where a movie character is “buried.” People leave offerings on the gravestone, including small pebbles as if it’s a Jewish site of memory.
People talk about representation on screen, and I’m not sure a Jewish funeral necessarily does that, but I would imagine for some people, seeing Rocky Balboa say the “Mourner’s Kaddish“ was maybe their first interaction with Judaism in some way. What do you make of that?
Every shot is deliberate. And it’s actually that kind of attitude and outlook that created the Rocky statue, because Sylvester Stallone was the director of that film, and they could have made a styrofoam version or a temporary one, but they spent over a year making a bronze version so that when the camera faced it, it would make contact. I think very similarly, this is part of the artistry of Stallone that plays out in our podcast series. We’re not with him when he sits shiva. We’re not there in a prolonged series of mourning, but in a split second, seeing a Jewish site of a memory is really fascinating. And to see the coach Mickey, to have his Wikipedia page say he’s Jewish, all that we have is mourning.
I think about how for immigrant Jewish communities, there are gaps in our narratives. Throughout the series, and one of the reasons I wanted to share my perspective as a queer Jewish person who grew up loving sports in Philly, I’ve been informed by my own family’s history, and what we’re able to recall and what gaps there are. And I see that being echoed for so many people in the Rocky story.
It’s clearly a very personal story for you. Why did you think it was important to start the podcast with your own identity, and to include your Jewish mother?
I think it’s important that when we talk about sites of memory, we understand that there are shared and collective ways that we bring the past forward, and there are others that are incredibly personal. My hope was to find, in this case, to spotlight, a significant site of memory in the city, but ask questions about it. And I think it was important to note what position I would take, because I don’t believe there’s one story to the Rocky statue. To tell a biography of a statue, you actually have to tell it of the people who make meaning from it. So in the series, we do a lot of work where we want to know other people’s stories and backgrounds, whether they are refugees from Afghanistan, or community organizers in Kensington [a neighborhood of Philadelphia]. My hope was by positioning this from my perspective, almost as a memoir in a way, that it opened up space for others to have their experiences be valued and made meaning of.
The official artwork for Farber’s podcast. (Courtesy)
Both with the podcast and in your work with the Monument Lab, how do you feel that your Jewish identity informs what you do? Do you see overlap between your Jewish values and the values you work on in your organization?
I absolutely think so. I grew up in a Jewish community in Philadelphia, and tikkun olam was a constant refrain. The work of tikkun olam meant a worldview that necessitated building coalitions and understanding across divides, to not diminish or under-emphasize them, but to appreciate how we work in solidarity, whether that’s around racial justice, gender justice, in various struggles. I am a co-founder and director of an organization that focuses on memory, and that I really get from the stories of growing up in a Jewish household, in a Jewish community, where memory lived in different ways. We were always aware of the stories of trauma and loss, as well as reconciliation and transformation, and how you work with the gaps that you have, and you listen, and you learn and you carry the story with you. Because that is the way to bond generations. Jewish memory really grounds what I do, and I seek to use it as a tool to learn more and to feed connection across divides.
Rocky takes on this almost mythical, godlike status, and his statue in Philadelphia is a bit of a pilgrimage site. Do you see any tension there as a Jew, given the prohibition against idol worship?
I think about the importance of memory, against forces of violence and erasure. I also understand that, in a world that is full of pain and difficulty and loss, we seek places to release that. And so I understand the pull to monuments. What I would like to see, and what we try to do through this series, “The Statue,” and also with the work of Monument Lab, is to look on and off the pedestal, and really think about how history lives with us. As we say in the series and other places, history doesn’t live inside of statues, it lives with people who steward them, who create other kinds of sites of memory, who are vigilant in their modes of commemoration. What I try to do in this work is understand the ambivalence around monuments, the pull to try to remember and be enduring through time, and just that constant reminder that whenever you try to freeze the past, or freeze an image of power, you cut out the potential to find connection and empowerment, and thus forms of survival.
In sports, there are so many ways to honor people, especially different ways that, like a statue, take on the idea of permanence. When Bill Russell died, the NBA retired his number 6 across the league. On Jackie Robinson Day, every April 15, the whole MLB honors Jackie Robinson by wearing his uniform number. But statues just have a different level of oomph. Sandy Koufax has a new statue in Los Angeles that was unveiled last year; Hank Greenberg has one. What do you think it should take for an athlete to reach that status?
The pinnacle in sports is to have a statue dedicated to you outside of the stadium. And I do believe the cultures of social media have amplified that, because we grew up with the story of Sandy Koufax not pitching in the World Series during the High Holy Days, and that wasn’t because we learned it from a statue or a plaque. We learned it because it was carried forward and put into different forms of remembering and recalling its importance. I went to several Maccabi Games in the U.S. — I used to be a sprinter. And the culture of memory and sport, they were one in the same.
In professional sports, the pinnacle is the statue, but I think you brought up other really important ways of remembering that operate in non-statue forms that feel like they are living memorials. The idea of retiring someone’s number, and keeping their number up, is a way to acknowledge, in this really public of all public spaces, an intimacy and a care, and especially when an athlete passes away, how that transcends the lines of city geography. Jackie Robinson Day is something that did not occur immediately after Jackie Robinson was the first Black player to play in the major leagues, but was a product of a later moment when people around Major League Baseball sought to activate his memory. So yes, a statue outside of a stadium is like a particular kind of professional accolade. But the other forms are really meaningful.
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NYC synagogue protest bill tasks police with developing a protection plan. Mamdani still hasn’t committed to sign
The New York City Council has ditched a proposal for a strict up to 100-foot buffer zone for protests outside houses of worship and instead aims to direct the NYPD to develop a plan outlining how it would protect congregants from constitutionally protected protests.
The changes come in the face of reservations from Mayor Zohran Mamdani as well as civil liberties groups that have raised concerns that the measure could limit First Amendment rights.
Michael Gerber, the police department’s deputy commissioner for legal affairs, told council members Wednesday that the NYPD will craft a framework that carefully weighs constitutional considerations, balancing public safety with free speech rights and establishing clear procedures for managing protests.
The bill, introduced by Council Speaker Julie Menin, follows disruptive demonstrations at synagogues that targeted events promoting land sales in Israel and settlements and featured antisemitic slogans and chants. It initially proposed creating a perimeter of up to 100 feet to ensure access to services and events without harassment or being blocked at the door.
It is part of the Council speaker’s five-point plan to combat antisemitism, in conjunction with a new task force she appointed, as anti-Jewish incidents continue to account for a majority of reported hate crimes in New York City. In recent months, at least two protests outside synagogues featured antisemitic slogans and chants, heightening tensions and drawing condemnation. Last month, a person rammed a car into an entrance of the Chabad-Lubavitch world headquarters in Brooklyn.
Police Commissioner Jessica Tisch, who, like Menin, is Jewish, reportedly cautioned that a one-size-fits-all rule might not withstand legal challenge and could prove unworkable across neighborhoods with vastly different street layouts. Mamdani said he ordered his law department and police leadership to review the proposal’s legality. On his first day in office, Mamdani revoked an executive order issued by former Mayor Eric Adams in December that called on Tisch to evaluate proposals for establishing a buffer zone of at least 15 feet outside houses of worship.
Mamdani cited Tisch’s concerns in an interview with CNN earlier this week when asked for his position on the bill.
However, after internal discussions, the Council agreed to revise the language of the bill, placing implementation authority squarely with the police department rather than codifying a specific distance requirement.
Free speech protections
At a hearing by the newly created Committee to Combat Hate, Gerber, one of Tisch’s Jewish deputies, said the NYPD supports the legislation — describing the buffer as a “frozen zone.” — and is committed to transparency. The department will ensure protesters retain “sight and sound to the entrance of that location consistent with the First Amendment,” he said, referencing the right to peacefully protest. “At the same time, the protesters will not be permitted to obstruct, impede or interfere.” He added that demonstrators who enter frozen zones could be subject to arrest.
In response to questioning from Councilmember Shahana Hanif of Brooklyn, an Israel critic, Gerber said that anti-Zionist and antisemitic slogans, “with some extremely narrow exceptions,” will be safeguarded. He pointed to the 1977 neo-Nazi march in Skokie, Illinois, which the court said was protected speech.
Mainstream Jewish groups that testified, including the Anti-Defamation League, the UJA-Federation of New York and the Jewish Community Relations Council, said they back the bill. At a rally held inside City Hall Wednesday morning, two Muslim imams and a Catholic clergyman also voiced their support.
The progressive group Jews For Racial & Economic Justice, which endorsed Mamdani through its affiliated political arm, and other groups supportive of the Palestinian cause, are lobbying Council members to oppose the bill. Mamdani, at an unrelated press conference, said the amended bill is a “distinct shift” from the original proposal but declined to commit to signing it until he sees its “final version.” A City Hall spokesperson referred back to the mayor’s comments when asked by the Forward whether the new language addressed his concerns.
At the hearing, Menin addressed what she described as “misconceptions” about the measure. “The First Amendment freedom of speech is truly sacrosanct, and it is a freedom that these bills will uphold,” Menin said. “What we will not allow people to do is abuse that freedom to harass and intimidate others outside religious and educational institutions.”
The council speaker said the November 19, 2025 demonstration outside Manhattan’s Park East Synagogue, which hosted an event promoting migration to Israel, “was not a peaceful protest.”
The legislation is “absolutely needed,” Menin said, to ensure that such demonstrations never happen again. “We can’t brush that under the rug,” she said. “I think any suggestion that the bills aren’t needed is just minimizing what the impact has been to the Jewish community.”
Gov. Kathy Hochul recently introduced similar legislation, which would create a 25-foot buffer zone around houses of worship across New York State.
The post NYC synagogue protest bill tasks police with developing a protection plan. Mamdani still hasn’t committed to sign appeared first on The Forward.
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80 Years After the Holocaust, Did Antisemitism Disappear? Or Did Anti-Zionism Replace It?
A German and Israeli flag fly, on the day Chancellor Friedrich Merz meets with Israeli President Isaac Herzog for talks, in Berlin, Germany, May 12, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Liesa Johannssen
There is a comforting narrative circulating in Western discourse. It insists that the surge of anti-Israel activism we see today is nothing more than political engagement. We are told it is about policy disagreements, about borders, about governments and human rights. We are assured it has nothing to do with Jews as Jews.
Yet over and over again, the façade cracks. Beneath the slogans and hashtags, something much older surfaces. What presents itself as principled opposition to a state too often reveals itself as hostility toward a people.
For centuries, Jews have been blamed for calamities that had nothing to do with them. During the Black Death in medieval Europe, Jewish communities were accused of poisoning wells and spreading plague. These lies triggered massacres. In times of disease and social instability, fear sought an outlet and found it in the Jewish minority.
The pattern did not end there. Blood libels claimed that Jews murdered Christian children to use their blood in religious rituals. Jews were portrayed as shadowy financiers manipulating global markets, engineering wars, and controlling governments. These were not fringe ideas whispered in dark corners. They were preached from pulpits, embedded in political rhetoric, and woven into cultural narratives.
The consequences were catastrophic. The expulsions from European kingdoms. The pogroms that swept across Eastern Europe and parts of the Middle East all the way up until the 1900s. The 1929 massacre in Hebron, where Jews were slaughtered in their homes. And ultimately the Holocaust, orchestrated by the Nazi regime under Adolf Hitler, in which six million Jews were systematically murdered. Each era insisted it was responding to some new threat. Each era recycled ancient accusations.
Many antisemites now claim they only oppose Israel — but are we really supposed to believe that 80 years after 1/3 of every Jew on Earth was murdered, that antisemitism has disappeared and this is all about Israel?
Modern terrorism continued the pattern. At the 1972 Munich Olympics, members of the Israeli team were murdered in cold blood. In 1985, during the hijacking of the cruise ship Achille Lauro, a Jewish passenger was singled out and killed. In 1976, Jewish hostages were separated from others in Entebbe before a dramatic rescue operation. And on October 7, 2023, Israeli civilians were massacred in their homes, children were abducted, and elderly people were dragged into Gaza by Hamas. Once again, Jews were targeted not for what they had done as individuals, but for who they were.
Each time, the world proclaims never again. Each time, hatred finds new language.
That’s why most “anti-Zionism” is just antisemitic logic repackaged for the digital age.
The intellectual dishonesty extends further. Marginal sects such as Neturei Karta are frequently showcased as the authentic voice of Judaism because they oppose the State of Israel. This tiny, fringe group does not represent mainstream Jewish communities in Israel or the Diaspora. Yet their images are amplified to suggest that “real Jews” reject Jewish self determination. It is not an honest engagement with Jewish diversity. It is a strategy to legitimize hostility.
In online spaces, the pattern is unmistakable. Comment sections filled with recycled tropes about Jewish control of media, finance, and politics are everywhere. Every geopolitical development is reframed as evidence of a hidden Jewish hand. Emotional accusations drown out factual context. In the age of algorithms, outrage spreads faster than correction. A sensational claim travels further than a careful explanation.
None of this means that Israel is beyond criticism. But there is a difference between criticism and much of what is happening now.
The State of Israel was established after centuries in which Jews lacked sovereignty and paid for that vulnerability with blood. It emerged in the aftermath of the Holocaust, when the absence of refuge proved fatal. To reduce its existence to colonial ambition is to erase Jewish history and the lived reality of exile, persecution, and statelessness.
Antisemitism disguised as anti-Zionism is not diminishing. It is intensifying across university campuses, in activist movements, and in mainstream conversation. The vocabulary may sound modern, but the underlying message echoes the past. Jews are uniquely malevolent. Jews are collectively responsible. Jews are the problem.
The antidote is not censorship but clarity. Historical literacy matters. Facts matter. Calling out antisemitic tropes when they appear, even when wrapped in fashionable language, is not an attempt to silence dissent. It is a defense of truth and moral consistency.
The lesson of history is neither abstract nor distant. When antisemitism is trivialized or excused, it spreads. When it is confronted with moral seriousness and factual rigor, it loses legitimacy. If we are sincere in our commitment to a world where Jews are not scapegoats for every crisis, then we must recognize that anti-Zionism too often serves as the latest vessel for the oldest hatred.
The responsibility to say so belongs to all of us.
Sabine Sterk is the CEO of Time To Stand Up For Israel.
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Israel, AIPAC Take Center Stage in Competitive US Congressional Primary
Aug. 12, 2025, Chicago, Illinois, US: Daniel Biss, mayor of Evanston, Illinois, attends a rally at Federal Plaza in Chicago after the announcement that the Trump administration has unilaterally ended the collective bargaining agreement with federal unions. Photo: Chicago Tribune via ZUMA Press Wire via Reuters Connect
Leading candidates in a hotly contested open-seat Democratic primary for US Congress are dueling over support for Israel and the country’s largest pro-Israel lobbying group, which have become key focal points of the race.
Tensions have been simmering for months but escalated after a super PAC known as Elect Chicago Women — which is reportedly supported by donors tied to the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) — began airing its first attack ad in Illinois’ 9th Congressional District last weekend. The ad accused progressive Evanston Mayor Daniel Biss of being “willing to say anything to get elected.”
Elect Chicago Women has spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on broadcast television attacking Biss and more than $2 million boosting moderate state Sen. Laura Fine, according to federal filings.
The political action committee has not publicly disclosed its donors ahead of the primary, fueling complaints from Biss and other candidates about covert influence in the contest.
In a statement on Sunday, the Biss campaign stated that voters “won’t be fooled by these slimy dark money ads, and they won’t allow right-wing special interests to pick our next member of Congress.”
The next day, Biss released an attack ad targeting Fine for receiving money from supporters of AIPAC, which Biss’s campaign described as a “Trump-aligned, pro-Netanyahu” group, referring to US President Donald Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. The ad also said that AIPAC was aligned with “MAGA,” or Trump’s Make America Great Again movement.
AIPAC is a prominent lobbying group that seeks to foster bipartisan support for the US-Israel alliance. Despite making bipartisanship a key tenet of its work, AIPAC has in recent years become a favorite target of left-wing, Democratic activists and politicians.
Before the latest dueling ads, the clash in Illinois’ 9th District spilled into a candidate forum hosted by the Pink Poster Club last week in Evanston, where contenders were asked directly whether they accept contributions from AIPAC or longtime AIPAC supporters.
Fine was the only candidate on stage to say yes. She clarified that she has not received money directly from AIPAC itself but has accepted donations from individuals who support the group, as well as from some Republican donors. AIPAC has not formally endorsed any candidates in the race.
Nonetheless, Biss seized on Fine’s distinction, arguing that Democratic voters should question why right-leaning and pro-Israel special-interest donors are investing heavily in a Democratic primary. He has framed the super PAC spending as an attempt by outside forces to purchase the seat and shape the district’s representation on foreign policy.
Fine was also the sole candidate last week to respond “yes” to supporting continued military assistance for Israel.
Other rivals echoed concerns about transparency and influence, but it was Biss who most forcefully made policy toward Israel and AIPAC-aligned spending a centerpiece of his critique.
Fine has pushed back, saying the attacks mischaracterize both her record and her motivations. She points to her legislative work in Springfield on issues such as abortion rights, health-care access, and environmental protection, arguing that her support is grounded in her progressive credentials.
She has also emphasized her longstanding ties to the local Jewish community, a significant constituency in the district, and said backing from pro-Israel donors reflects shared values, not outside control. Supporters argue that strong US–Israel relations are a mainstream Democratic position and that accepting donations from pro-Israel individuals does not conflict with progressive priorities.
Fine and her campaign have denied any coordination with outside groups and contend that Biss is unfairly singling out Jewish and pro-Israel donors for political gain. Moreover, Fine has taken aim at Biss for his supposed connections with conservative donors.
“Daniel Biss has relied on Republican donors for years and voters are sick of politicians who say whatever it takes to win an election,” Fine’s campaign said in a statement.
At last week’s forum, Fine said she was “sick and tired of being Dan-splained,” noting that Biss met with AIPAC officials multiple times before rebuking their involvement in the race.
“When they said, ‘We don’t trust you,’ he changed his tune again. And that’s not a surprise, because he’ll tell one group one thing and another group another,” Fine said.
Another candidate in the race, Kat Abughazaleh, a 26-year-old Palestinian-American social media personality who has repeatedly accused Israel of so-called “genocide” in Gaza, also slammed Biss for previously meeting with AIPAC officials.
Biss currently leads the primary with 24 percent support among voters, according to a new poll commissioned by the Evanston RoundTable and conducted by Public Policy Polling, a firm affiliated with the Democratic Party. He was followed by Abughazaleh at 17 percent and Fine at 16 percent, with nearly a quarter of voters still undecided.
In the open competition to replace retiring Democratic Rep. Jan Schakowsky, Fine has sought to establish herself as the most Israel-friendly candidate, stressing the importance of Israel’s self-defense and the importance of continuing the American alliance with the Jewish state.
Biss, who is Jewish, has taken a harsher stance against Israel, issuing sharpened criticisms of the Jewish state’s conduct in Gaza. Though Biss has stated that he supports Israel and has expressed desire for continuing the alliance between Washington and Jerusalem, he has condemned the Netanyahu government and called for increased restrictions on US military aid. However, the mayor also spent large stretches of his childhood in Israel and has expressed a generally positive sentiment toward the nation and its people.
Nonetheless, Biss has promised not to accept any funding or support from AIPAC, accusing the prominent lobbying group of having “MAGA-aligned donors” and arguing that accepting its support would force him to “compromise” his progressive values.
Last month, US Rep. Tim Walberg (R-MI), chairman of the House Committee on Education and the Workforce, penned a letter demanding answers from Biss, accusing him of failing to protect Jewish students during a pro-Hamas, anti-Israel encampment at Northwestern University that, lawmakers say, devolved into widespread antisemitic harassment and violence. Northwestern’s campus is located in Evanston.
Illinois’ 9th District, long represented by progressive stalwarts, is heavily Democratic and includes Evanston and Chicago’s North Side. In such a deep-blue seat, the winner of the March primary will be the overwhelming favorite to win the general election.