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A Queens synagogue is moving, and the fate of its storied ark is in limbo
(New York Jewish Week) — Crafted of bronze and gold-leaf plaster, and topped by a bejeweled crown, the astonishing 26-foot-tall ark of the Forest Hills Jewish Center fills its cavernous sanctuary with an imposing presence.
When Temma Kingsley joined the congregation as a newlywed in 1965, she was taken aback by its style.
“I thought it was really quite fancy, overdone,” she recalled recently, comparing it to the traditional wooden ark in the modest Philadelphia synagogue where she grew up. “But I’ve since learned what it’s all about, and I’ve become attached to it.”
The ark, which houses the synagogue’s Torah scrolls, is the work of artist Arthur Szyk (1894-1951), a Polish-born artist who rose to fame in the United States with vivid, technicolor drawings on the covers of influential magazines, in the pages of high-profile newspapers and in fine galleries and museums around the world. When the synagogue dedicated its minimalist post-war building on Queens Boulevard in 1949, Szyk’s opulently designed ark stood out as entirely different.
Now, with the impending sale of the Forest Hills Jewish Center building, Kingsley is concerned about the ark’s future. So too are current synagogue leaders, as well as art historians and museum curators, who are scurrying to find it a new home. Meanwhile, the ark’s fate remains in question.
The Conservative synagogue announced last year it was selling its building and would look for a new home in the same area in Queens. In August, an investment partnership led by Joseph Yushuvayev and Uri Mermelstein of Top Rock Holdings announced it was in contract to buy the building and develop the site.
Fully acknowledging the value and importance of the Szyk ark, the congregation is seeking to find it a new home. At least one art dealer has expressed interest in acquiring the ark, but this route has been rejected as it would not come with any guarantee of where it might eventually land.
Arthur Szyk was known for his vivid Jewish art, including “David and Saul” (1921), left, and his political cartoons and illustrations, including “Madness” (1941). (The Magnes Collection of Jewish Art and Life, University of California, Berkeley)
“What if the buyer decides to disassemble the ark and use its beautiful bronze doors as the entrance to their home?” Deborah Gregor, executive director of the Forest Hills Jewish Center, asked rhetorically, her voice tightening.
Taking into consideration this theoretical scenario, the board has agreed to prioritize keeping the ark intact to honor its legacy. Several museums have been contacted. Thus far none have come forward.
Simona Di Nepi, the Charles and Lynn Schusterman Curator of Judaica at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, traveled to Forest Hills last month to see the ark and “fell in love.”
“I see it as a tour de force of Jewish art,” she said — a unique and spectacular “show-stopper.”
On her recommendation, the Boston Museum of Fine Arts explored the possibility of acquiring it, but the height ultimately presented logistical challenges that could not be overcome. Di Nepi has now turned her attention to several large synagogues with the hopes of finding one that might adopt it.
“I can’t bear the thought of what will happen if it does not find a home,” she said.
Born in Poland, trained in Paris and influenced by the brief time he spent at Bezalel Art School in British Mandate Palestine, Szyk was known for his vivid Jewish art, biting political cartoons and his portraits of American heroes and European figureheads. In 1941, The Times Literary Supplement wrote that his illuminated Passover haggadah was “worthy to be placed among the most beautiful books that the hand of man has produced.” Reprinted many times in the decades since, it remains a staple in Jewish homes today.
While Szyk’s oeuvre is described by critics as “exquisite,” “masterful” and “marvels of technical skill,” the artist did not view his own creations as ends unto themselves. Instead, he used his work to influence politics and world opinion. Irvin Ungar, editor of the 2017 study “Arthur Szyk: Soldier in Art,” wrote that Szyk employed pen and paintbrush as tools to wage war against the Nazis, attack racism, promote Zionism and preserve freedom.
His work caught the attention of two leading rabbis of his day: Abba Hillel Silver in Cleveland and Ben Zion Bokser in Queens. Both led growing congregations that would reach well over 1,000 family members. Separately, the two commissioned Szyk to create significant objects for their respective synagogues.
The baroque form of Szyk’s ark at the Forest Hills Jewish Center, left, is reminiscent of the arks of Eastern European synagogues that were destroyed in the war; Szyk’s stained glass “Warrior Windows” at Cleveland’s Reform Temple Tifereth Israel feature the biblical figures Gideon, Samson and Judah Maccabee. (Courtesy of Irvin Ungar)
Szyk’s stained glass “Warrior Windows” were dedicated in Cleveland’s Reform Temple Tifereth Israel on the last day of Hanukkah in 1947. Commissioned to honor congregants who fought in World War II, the 15 windows include the names of fallen soldiers and showcase the biblical figures Judah Maccabee, Samson and Gideon, resplendent in sumptuous battle dress.
In a letter to Silver, Szyk explained that he would have ordinarily charged $15,000 for the project (the equivalent of $200,000 today). But because Szyk aligned so closely with the rabbi’s ideological mission — Silver was a leading proponent of Zionism — he viewed the job as “a personal favor,” and agreed to a much lower sum of $4,500.
Bokser, a social justice activist whose edition of the Jewish prayer book was a staple of Conservative synagogues for decades, was also drawn to Szyk’s bold, innovative style for the sanctuary of his congregation’s sleek new building on Queens Boulevard. Art historian and Cleveland State University Distinguished Professor Samantha Baskind calls it “sui generis”: Like Szyk’s illuminated manuscripts, the ark’s design packs in a dizzying array of abstract ornaments woven together with Jewish emblems. Scrolls, flowers, acorns and leaves are interspersed with holiday symbols, lions of Judah and representations of the Israelite tribes.
Its baroque form is reminiscent of the arks of Eastern European synagogues that were destroyed in the war. But Szyk was neither mournful nor nostalgic. Forward looking and hopeful, his ark doors are flanked by birds that can be read as either eagles or doves. With their wings spread wide, the figures stretch toward the biblical and Talmudic passages that border the work, invoking God’s judgment and heralding freedom.
Ungar assesses the ark as “an American and a Jewish icon” and a “culmination of [Szyk’s] prayers” as expressed through his art. Gregor refers to it as the artist’s “ark de triomph,” quite literally: “It is Szyk’s own statement of triumph, celebratory and grand,” she said.
The Forest Hills Jewish Center has been a fixture on Queens Boulevard since the late 1940s. (New York Jewish Week)
Ironically, its grandeur is precisely the source of its uncertain future.
When the Jewish Center’s current building was dedicated in 1949 in the presence of 5,000 guests, its scale was meant to accommodate a growing membership. Its main sanctuary held 1,200 seats, and its religious school would eventually accommodate some 900 students. Now the hulking space has become too large and costly for its 300-400 member families to maintain. The congregation has not yet announced relocation plans. But their hope for the future is an intimate space with a cozy aesthetic, where the monumental scale of the Szyk ark will likely not fit in.
Art historian Samantha Baskind has been preoccupied with the issue. “A logical solution would be to unite it with Szyk’s Warrior Windows” in Cleveland’s Temple Tifereth Israel,” she said. “Bringing the works into conversation with each other in the same sacred space is conceptually brilliant and would honor the memory of Rabbi Silver at the same time that it beautifies the synagogue.”
Whatever the future holds for the ark, some Forest Hills Jewish Center members are finding it hard to say goodbye. Kingsley recalled the central role the synagogue has played in her life since she moved to Forest Hills 57 years ago. For her, the ark is not just about its aesthetic details, or the artist who created it.
“That was the ark Rabbi Bokser commissioned,” she said wistfully. It holds his spirit, too.
Alanna E. Cooper serves as the Abba Hillel Silver Chair in Jewish Studies at Case Western Reserve University. Her book “Disposing of the Sacred” is forthcoming with Penn State University Press.
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Rabbi Mayer Moskowitz z”l, on Hasidic life in pre-war Czernowitz
[The following is an English version of the original Yiddish article, which you can read here.]
Rabbi Mayer Moskowitz, a beloved longtime educator at the Ramaz School in New York and the Hebrew-immersive Camp Massad, and author of the book A Memoir of Sanctity, has passed away.
In 2010, I interviewed Rabbi Moskowitz to learn what the Hasidic community was like in the city where he was born and raised — Czernowitz (Chernivtsi), then part of Romania, and today Ukraine.
Most contemporary scholars of East European Jewish history focus on prewar Czernowitz as a hub of intellectual and cultural Jewish life; as the location of the first Yiddish conference in 1908; as the milieu where the poet Itsik Manger and fabulist Eliezer Shteynbarg produced their greatest work.
But as the oldest child of the Shotzer Rebbe — Avrohom Chaim Moskowitz, Mayer Moskowitz had a very different perspective of the city, describing it as a center of five Hasidic dynasties and a vibrant Orthodox Jewish community.
I met Rabbi Moskowitz through my son, Gedaliah Ejdelman, who was a student in his class on halacha (Jewish law) at Ramaz Upper School. The following anecdote gives you an idea of the kind of person Rabbi Moskowitz was:
On the day before the final exam, one student asked if he could write his answers in English rather than Hebrew. Half-jokingly, the rabbi told the students that they could respond in any language they wished.
Gedaliah raised his hand and asked if he could write in Yiddish. “Sure,” Rabbi Moskowitz said. So Gedaliah did, citing Rashi and other commentators in mame-loshen. Moskowitz was so delighted by the Yiddish responses that he shared them with his colleagues.
When I met with Rabbi Moskowitz in his Upper East Side apartment in Manhattan, I asked him what life was like in Czernowitz. He told me he was born in 1927, a son — in fact, the only son — of the Shotzer Rebbe, Avrohom Chaim Moskowitz. He explained that Czernowitz had no less than five Hasidic dynasties. Besides his father, there was the Boyaner Rebbe; the Nadvorner Rebbe; the Zalischiker Rebbe and the Kitover Rebbe.
“All the Rebbes were related because the marriages of their children were arranged solely with other rabbinical families in Czernowitz,” he said.
Every Rebbe had his own court of Hasidim but there were marked differences between the Rebbe and his worshippers. The former wore beards and peyes (Yiddish for sidelocks) and donned a shtreimel for the Sabbath and holidays, while their worshippers, seeing themselves as “modern Jews,” were clean-shaven and came to services wearing a tsilinder (top hat) and tailcoat.
“I myself had little peyes,” Rabbi Moskowitz said.
His family lived in the same building as his father’s shul. His mother, Alte Sheyndl, was a daughter of the Pidayetser Rebbe, so she wore a sheitel. But, like the other rebishe kinder (Rebbe’s children), she was apparently influenced by the cosmopolitan character of the city. In contrast to her husband who spoke Yiddish with their children, the Rebbetzin spoke German. She went to the theater, read secular Yiddish poetry and shook men’s hands. On Mother’s Day, little Mayer would bring her a bouquet of flowers and on New Year’s Eve the Rebbetzin and the other daughters of rabbinical families threw a party.
“On New Year’s Eve they came to our apartment on the second floor, elegantly dressed, ate and spent many hours together,” Rabbi Moskowitz said. “Although they didn’t drink any alcohol, the daughters-in-law of the Bayoner Rebbe smoked thin cigarettes.”
Rabbi Moskowitz recalled his first day in cheder at the age of three: “My parents never walked together in public but on that day they dressed me in completely new shorts, shoes and a talis-kotn.” The latter is the traditional four-cornered fringed garment that Orthodox men and boys wear under their shirt.
His parents walked him, hand-in-hand, to the cheder. When they arrived, his father wrapped him in a tallis and carried him inside. On the table, little Mayer saw the diminutive of his name, ‘Mayerl,’ written with large golden letters.
The teacher asked him to repeat each Hebrew letter and its corresponding sound. Every time little Mayer correctly repeated it — “Komets alef ‘o’ … komets beyz ‘bo’ — a honey cookie dropped onto the table in front of him.
“I really thought it was falling from the heavens,” Rabbi Moskowitz said. “As it says in Proverbs: ‘Pleasant words are as a honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.’”
When he was five, Mayer began learning khumesh, the Bible. “It was shabbos afternoon. My relatives, family friends and all five Rebbes came. They lifted me onto the table. I was wearing a brown velvet suit. Each grandfather gave me a golden watch with a little chain and attached it to my suit. Then they asked me: ‘What are you learning in khumesh now?’”
After the quiz was over, the guests began dancing and singing, eating cake and fruit. All the Rebbes wore shtreimels as they sat at tables surrounded by their Hasidim and handed out shirayim — remnants of the blessed food that a Rebbe would give his followers, who believed they would receive a spiritual blessing by eating it. Mayer sat between his grandfathers.
Every morning Mayer went to cheder and three afternoons a week he attended a Zionist Hebrew-language school. In 1936, at the age of ten, he was sent to the city of Vizhnitz (today — Vyzhnytsia, Ukraine) to learn in the yeshiva of the Vizhnitzer Rebbe. He came home only four times a year: on the shabbos of Hanukkah, Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot.
Rabbi Moskowitz remembers Sukkot in Czernowitz: “All year, men and women ate together but not on Sukkot. My mother blessed the holiday candles, came into the sukkah for kiddush and hamotzi but then went back into the house where she ate in the company of the other women in the family.”
The sukkah was large. His father’s Hasidim would gather around their Rebbe’s tish (table) on the second night of Sukkot for the all-night celebration called simkhas-beis-hashoeivah. About 150 men would squeeze into the sukkah. But contrary to tradition, no one slept in it. “It was cold and a bit dangerous,” Rabbi Moskowitz said.
The Shotzer Rebbe’s house also served as an inn for rebbes from surrounding towns, when they needed to come to Chernovitz to see a doctor. Simple Jews, who leased land from non-Jewish noblemen would also come to the inn to see their rebbes. “They were common people, wore workboots and would bring fruit from their fields as a gift for the Rebbe,” he explained.
Many times, impoverished Jews would come to his father’s door asking for money. “One of them, called Fishele, used to say ‘I love you’ to my mother. She was indeed a beautiful woman. So my family would invite him in and feed him the same food we were eating.”
In describing these simple everyday events of his childhood in Czernowitz, Rabbi Moskowitz did a true mitzvah: He enabled us to see the city not only as a magnet for Yiddish writers and cultural activists, but also as a large, thriving Hasidic community.
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On final visit to Israel as mayor, Adams makes a closing argument against Mamdani
JERUSALEM — Outgoing New York City Mayor Eric Adams embarked on a multi-day swing through Israel, billed as both a show of solidarity amid rising antisemitism and a farewell visit. But it was also something else: likely the last international trip a New York City mayor will take for years, a point Adams wanted to underscore.
Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani, a strident critic of Israel, has pledged not to visit the country, breaking with a tradition upheld by every mayor since 1951 to demonstrate solidarity with Jewish constituents at home. He has also vowed to end the city’s decades-long practice of investing millions in Israeli government debt securities and has said he would order the arrest of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu if he lands in New York.
“I think he has to have the level of political maturity to understand that government is not protesting,” Adams said in a fireside chat at an event hosted in his honor by the Combat Antisemitism Movement (CAM) in Tel Aviv on Sunday evening. “And all those who are in his midst, like the Democratic Socialists of America, he needs to explain to them that he’s now the mayor. He’s no longer someone that is just protesting in the city of New York. He has to protect the city of New York.”
In the 30-minute conversation, moderated by Sacha Roytman, chief executive of CAM, Adams repeatedly alluded to the impact of Mamdani’s political rise and victory in the mayoral election earlier this month. The outgoing mayor said he told his team a year ago that Mamdani was on track to win the Democratic primary and that he expected to face him in a general election showdown, believing he could beat him.
Adams made combating antisemitism central to his reelection effort. Elected as a Democrat in 2021, he later lost key support after striking a deal with the Trump administration to drop his corruption case, prompting him to run for a second term on an independent line dubbed “End Antisemitism.” He became popular in Israel after delivering a forceful speech at a New York City rally in the days following the Oct. 7, 2023 Hamas attack on Israel, in which he declared, “We are not alright.” He also resisted progressive pressure to distance himself from Israel and faced backlash for his crackdown on pro-Palestinian protests at colleges and across the city. Adams recently signed an executive order adopting the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance definition of antisemitism, which labels most forms of anti-Zionism as antisemitic.
Mamdani, who attended some of the pro-Palestinian protests, faced the most scrutiny for refusing to outright condemn the slogan “globalize the intifada” and for saying he doesn’t recognize Israel as a Jewish state.
At the Sunday event, Adams took several shots at Mamdani, calling his election “abnormal” and questioning whether outside actors had influenced the race by shaping social-media algorithms. He suggested that the seeds of Mamdani’s campaign, powered by youthful energy and a promise of unconventional change, were planted during the protests against Israel.
“He had a ready-made army,” Adams said. “He had the Free Palestine movement that was heavily in place. He had the war that was going on, and then he had a group of angry youth on our college campuses. So when he emerged and said he was going to run on one issue, the Free Palestine movement, he already had the army that responded to him.” (Mamdani also ran on issues of affordability, universal childcare, and free buses.)
Adams said the Jewish community in New York “must prepare itself” to respond to any antisemitic attacks that might come. “I think this is a period where they need to be very conscious that there’s a level of global hostility towards the Jewish community,” he said, adding, “If I was a Jewish New Yorker with children, I would be concerned right now.”
Speaking with the Forward on Monday, Adams said he is being truthful about the situation. “I’m not going to lie to New Yorkers, I know what I’m seeing,” he said. “Other people will sugarcoat this moment, and I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to lie. I’m not going to pretend as though everything is fine.” To his critics, Adams said, “Those who want to interpret my candid view of what’s playing out now in our city and across the globe, they can do so. That is not up to me to try to convince them of what I am seeing and what I am hearing and what is playing out.”
The outgoing mayor is expected to meet with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu at his office on Tuesday. Netanyahu said in an interview last week, commenting on Mamdani’s win, “If that’s the future of New York, I think New York has a very dim future.” Adams said he’ll assure Netanyahu and other leaders he is meeting with the “49% of New Yorkers did not buy into the rhetoric of the hatred towards Israel.” Madani won with 50.4% of the more than two million votes cast.
Other highlights of Adams’ Israel trip
Earlier in the day, Adams held an emotional 30-minute meeting with three former Israeli hostages — Yarden Bibas, whose wife Shiri and young sons Kfir and Ariel were murdered in captivity; Sagi Dekel-Chen, an American-Israeli released in a ceasefire deal in January; and Bar Kuperstein, who was among the last 20 living hostages freed last month.
Held at the World Jewish Sports Museum at Kfar Maccabiah, Dekel-Chen described his time in captivity and the slow and painful process of healing. Bibas described his life in grief, adding that his only purpose is “to stay alive and remember my wife and kids.”
Adams, visibly shaken, told the former hostages that he admired their resilience and that New Yorkers needed to hear these stories firsthand. He offered to host them for the ball drop in Times Square on New Year’s Eve.
At the museum, Roy Hessing, deputy CEO of the Maccabiah movement, invited Adams to serve as an honorary guest at the next Maccabiah Games, now scheduled to resume in June, after delays due to the war. The event is expected to draw 30,000 participants, including 15,000 from abroad.
Adams also paid a visit to the Western Wall on Sunday night, where he placed a note in the wall and prayed. In the guestbook, Adams wrote that “God is real and life has shown us this.”
Shortly after landing on Saturday, Adams walked through the Nachalat Binyamin neighborhood with Tel Aviv’s deputy mayor, Asaf Zamir, who was Israel’s consul general in New York from 2021 to 2023. Zamir was outspoken against Mamdani throughout the mayoral campaign. Adams has long referred to New York as the “Tel Aviv of America.”
In tours closed to the press, Adams visited the IMI Academy, where Israeli instructors provide tactical and emergency-response training, and the Aerial Systems facility, where he was shown the latest drone and surveillance technologies. He also addressed the annual mayors’ conference hosted by the American Jewish Congress at Jerusalem’s King David Hotel.
At many of his stops, Adams said about his farewell: “I’m not just the mayor that’s leaving office, I’m your brother.”
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Graffiti during Mexican protests against Claudia Sheinbaum’s government calls out ‘Jewish whore’
(JTA) — Mexico’s Jewish community has condemned antisemitic graffiti apparently directed toward the country’s Jewish president during an anti-government protest on Saturday.
The graffiti painted on the door of the Supreme Court building said “puta judia” or “Jewish whore,” in what has been widely interpreted as a reference to Claudia Sheinbaum. It also included a crossed-out Star of David.
The graffiti was painted during a youth-led protest that responds to rising violence, crime and corruption, particularly by drug cartels. Dozens of people were reportedly arrested and injured in Saturday’s protests.
“The Jewish Community of Mexico strongly condemns the antisemitic remarks and expressions” during the march, the community said in a statement on Sunday. “Antisemitism is a form of discrimination according to our constitution and must be rejected clearly and unequivocally.”
Sheinbaum, elected last year, is Mexico’s first Jewish president. She has not made her Jewish identity a part of her public persona and is not a regular participant in the country’s tight-knit Jewish communities.
Israel’s foreign minister, Gideon Saar, also condemned the graffiti. “Israel strongly condemns the antisemitic and sexist slurs directed at Mexico’s President @Claudiashein,” he tweeted while sharing a picture from the protests. “There is no place for such attacks in political discourse. All forms of antisemitism, in any context, must be rejected unequivocally.”
Israel strongly condemns the antisemitic and sexist slurs directed at Mexico’s President @Claudiashein. There is no place for such attacks in political discourse.
All forms of antisemitism, in any context, must be rejected unequivocally. pic.twitter.com/HEDKzq34e8— Gideon Sa’ar | גדעון סער (@gidonsaar) November 16, 2025
Some of Sheinbaum’s detractors have previously invoked her Jewish background, including former President Vicente Fox, who called her a “Bulgarian Jew” in an apparent attempt to minimize her candidacy. He apologized, but made a similar comment after Sheinbaum briefly donned a rosary with a crucifix after being given one during a campaign stop. “JEWISH AND FOREIGN AT THE SAME TIME,” Fox tweeted. Sheinbaum produced her birth certificate multiple times to dispel rumors that she was born in Bulgaria.
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