Uncategorized
Bosnian Jews mourn Moris Albahari, one of Sarajevo’s last Ladino speakers
(JTA) — Moris Albahari, a Holocaust survivor, former partisan fighter and one of the last Ladino speakers in Bosnia and Herzegovina’s dwindling Jewish community, passed away at the age of 93 last month.
It is believed that he was one of four native Ladino speakers remaining in a country where the Judeo-Spanish language once flourished and was spoken by luminaries like Flory Jagoda, the grande dame of Ladino song, and Laura Bohoretta, the founder of a uniquely Sephardic feminist movement in Bosnia.
Bosnia’s small Jewish community — with barely 900 members throughout the country, 500 of whom live in Sarajevo — are mourning the loss of a living link to communal memory as well as a dear friend.
“From you, uncle Moco, I learned a lot about Judaism, about life, about nature and especially about people. About both the good and the evil,” Igor Kožemjakin, the cantor of the Sarajevo Jewish community, wrote in a memorial post on Facebook, referring to Moris as “Čika,” or uncle, a term of endearment in Bosnian.
“It is a terrible loss, especially for Sarajevo. Our community is very small, especially after the Holocaust,” Eliezer Papo, a Sarajevo-born Jew and scholar of Ladino language and literature at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “We’re not speaking just in terms of prominent members of the community, we’re speaking in terms of family members. Everyone is like a family member.”
When Albahari was growing up in the 1930s, the Jewish community of his native Sarajevo numbered over 12,000. Jews made up more than a fifth of the city and it was one of the most important centers of Jewish life in the western Balkans.
In his youth, the city was part of what was then the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. Formed out of the borderlands between the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires, it was a multiethnic state composed of Croats, Serbs, Bosniaks, Slovenians, Macedonians, Hungarians, Albanians and more. Among them were many Jewish communities both Ashkenazi and Sephardic.
The unique mix of of Muslim, Jewish, Catholic and Orthodox Christian communities, with their mosques, synagogues and churches defining Sarajevo’s skyline, earned the city the nickname “Little Jerusalem.”
Speaking in a 2015 documentary made by American researchers, “Saved by Language,” Albahari explained that his family traced their roots back to Cordoba before the Spanish Inquisition, and through Venice, before settling in what would become Bosnia when it was part of the Ottoman Empire.
“We didn’t want to ‘just’ write an article about Moris or Sarajevo; we wanted [the audience] to see what we saw and hear what we heard,” Brian Kirschen, professor of Ladino at Binghamton University, who worked on the documentary with author Susanna Zaraysky, told JTA. “This resulted in a grassroots initiative to create the documentary.”
In the film, Albahari takes the researchers and their viewers on a tour through what was Jewish Sarajevo, giving glimpses of the thriving Ladino speaking community in which he was raised and explaining how ithe language would save him many times, when the Nazis and their Croat allies, the Ustaša, came to shatter it.
“In sharing your story of survival during the Holocaust, you opened doors that remained closed for decades,” Kirschen said in a memorial post on Facebook. “Some of your stories were even new to members of your family, but each survivor has their own timeline. While you experienced great pain during your life, from your story, we also learn about moments of kindness and heroism. Through your story, you also taught us about the power of language.”
Albahari wasn’t yet a teenager when, in 1941, Nazi Germany and Mussolini’s Italy invaded Yugoslavia. The Nazis occupied the eastern portion of the country, including what is now Serbia, while they raised up a Croat fascist party, known as the Ustaša, to administer the newly formed “Independent State of Croatia” — often known by its Serbo-Croatian initials, NDH — in the western regions that included the modern-day Bosnia and Herzegovina.
The Ustaša collaborated in the Nazis’ genocidal plans for Europe’s Jewish and Roma comunities, and they had genocidal designs of their own for the Orthodox Serb communities living in the NDH.
To that end they established the Jasenovac concentration camp, which would become known as the Auschwitz of the Balkans. By the war’s end it had become the third largest concentration camp in Europe, and behind its walls the overwhelming majority of Sarajevo’s Jews — at least 10,000 — were massacred. Including Serbs, Jews, Roma and political dissidents of Croat or Muslim Bosniak background, as many as 100,000 people were killed in Jasenovac.
Albahari was 11 years old when the Ustaša came to deport him and his large family to Jasenovac. A former teacher working as an Ustaša guard in the town of Drvar, where the train stopped, warned Albahari’s father, David, about their destination, and he was able to help his son escape from the train.
The teacher helped guide the young Moris to an Italian soldier named Lino Marchione who was secretly helping Jews.
This was the first case when Albahari’s Ladino came in handy. Ladino is largely based on medieval Spanish, with a mixture of Hebrew, Aramaic, Turkish and other languages mixed in. For speakers of Serbo-Croatian, a Slavic language, it’s entirely incomprehensible. But for a speaker of another Romance language such as Italian, it’s not such a stretch to understand, and Moris was able to converse with his Italian savior.
With his family gone, he was taken in by a Serb family, and changed his name to Milan Adamovic to hide his Jewish identity. Still, by 1942, it became clear that neither as Adamovic nor Albahari would he be safe in the town. So he fled to the mountains.
“If there was [a battle] I took clothes from a dead soldier to wear, I lived like a wolf in the mountains, you know. Visiting villages [asking for something] to give me for eating, it was a terrible time,” Albahari recalled in “Saved By Language.”
He would only feel safe in villages under the control of partisan forces. Yugoslavia was the only country in Europe to be liberated from Nazi rule by its own grassroots resistance.
During his time in the mountains, Albahari joined up with a partisan unit aligned with the movement of Josip Broz Tito, who would lead Communist Yugoslavia after the war. By the war’s end, Tito’s partisans numbered over 80,000 and included more than 6,000 Jews, many in prominent positions, such as Moša Pijade, who would go on to serve as vice president of the Yugoslav parliament after the war.
Moris was out on patrol as a partisan when he came upon a group of American and British paratroopers. They raised their weapons at him, thinking he was an enemy. Moris tried to communicate, but he spoke no English.
When he asked the soldiers if they spoke German or Italian, they shook their heads. When he asked about Spanish, one perked up: a Hispanic-American soldier by the name of David Garijo.
In Ladino, Alabahari was able to explain that he was not an enemy but could lead them to a nearby partisan camp where they would be safe.
“Ladino saved my life in the war,” Albahari recalled in the documentary.
At the partisan camp, Morris received even bigger news: The family that he had assumed had all perished after he left the train were in fact alive. The former school teacher and Ustaša guard who had warned his father had met them at the next train junction to help them escape. Furthermore, around half of the Jews in the train car were able to escape using the same hole Moris used during his initial escape.
Ultimately the family all survived the war, unlike so many other Jews of Sarajevo.
“Where is Samuel, where is Dudo, where is Gedala? They never came back,” Albahari lamented, listing missing neighbors while walking through Sarajevo’s old Jewish neighborhood in the documentary. “Maybe we are happy because we are alive after the Second World War, but also unlikely because every day we must cry for these dead people.”
When Moris returned to Sarajevo, it was an entirely different place from the bustling Jewish community he had once known.
Gone was the sound of Ladino in the streets and alleyways of Bascarsija, the market district where so many of Sarajevo’s Jews had once lived. Gone were the synagogues — only one of the many synagogues that had existed before WWII still functions. Gone was the robust Jewish life that was once a central part of Sarajevo.
Moris was still only 14 by the war’s end, so he returned to school and ultimately graduated at the top of his class. He became a pilot and later director of the Sarajevo Airport.
In this new world, Ladino was spoken, if at all, only in the home.
“Always, when I hear Spanish, I hear my father and mother, and all the synagogues, prayers in Ladino and rabbis who spoke Ladino. But that is in the past,” Albahari says in “Saved by Language.”
Eliezer Papo, who is a generation younger than Albahari, recalled that in his youth Ladino had long been reduced to a language of secrets.
“Mostly, Ladino was used when the elders didn’t want youngsters to understand,” Papo said.
Only later, in the 1980s, did community members realize what was being lost and begin to gather to maintain their language, recount what Jewish Sarajevo had been like and share their wartime stories of survival.
“He never took his story to the places of revenge, but he took it and his life experience to a place of ‘Never again,’ not just ‘Never again for Jews’, but never again for anybody,” said Papo.
Like many Sarajevans, World War II would not be the last major conflict Albahari would see. Less than 40 years later, war would once again come to Sarajevo with the break-up of Yugoslavia.
From 1992-1995 the city remained under constant siege by Bosnian Serb forces looking to break away from what would become Bosnia and Herzegovina. Moris joined with other Jews of Sarajevo in working to provide aid to their fellow Sarajevans during the harsh period.
Sarajevo’s synagogue was turned into a shelter and a soup kitchen. The community ran a network of underground pharmacies and a message service allowing Sarajevans to get word to family and friends outside of the city during what became the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern warfare.
“Moris was an inspirational persona to many members of Jewish community and La Benevolencija,” Vlado Anderle, the current president of that local Jewish humanitarian organization told JTA. “He was a man with such inviting spirit and energy.”
When the dust settled on the breakup of Yugoslavia, and the new Bosnian state rose from its ashes, Moris found himself once again in a new role.
During the communist era in Yugoslavia, religious activity was discouraged. Sarajevo’s Jews emphasized the ethnic character of Jewish culture rather than the religious one. In the new Bosnia and Herzegovina, that was no longer true. So the community worked to reconnect with their religious identity as well.
“Everybody looked up to the people who had Jewish upbringing before the Second World War,” Papo recalled. “This doesn’t mean that they were rabbis. Just that they knew it better than anyone else.”
Moris, whose formal Jewish education ended in his preteen years, was appointed president of the community’s religious committee.
As such it often fell on him to represent Judaism to the Bosnian society at large, often in a very creative way, according to Papo, who in addition to being a scholar of Ladino is ordained as a rabbi and serves the Sarajevo community as a rabbi-at-large from Israel.
In one case, while being interviewed on a major Bosnian television station, Moris was asked why Jews cover their head with a kippah or other hat during prayer. Moris’ response, or rather creative interpretation, as Papo called it, was made up on the spot.
Moris’ interpretation began with the ancient temple in Jerusalem where Jews once had to fully immerse in a ritual bath before entering.
“Since the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed it was reduced to washing the uncovered parts of the body only, before entering a synagogue, similarly to Muslims: the feet, the head, the hands…” Papo recalled him saying. But in Europe, as Moris’ answer went, they began to cover more and more of their body. “In Europe they started wearing shoes, so the feet were not uncovered anymore, and then they started wearing a hat, not to have to wash their head… you know it’s Europe, one could catch a cold if going out with wet hair…”
“A few months later, I came to Sarajevo, and found that everyone has heard this explanation and is talking about it, not just people in the community, but in the street,” Papo said. “And you know, I let it pass, I couldn’t correct them, it was just so beautiful. That was his genius.”
“Identity is all about telling stories. And Moris was one of the great storytellers of the community,” Papo added. And through his stories he expressed an identity which was “made of the same contradictions that Sephardic Judaism is made of, that Sarajevo is made of, that Bosnia and Herzegovina is made and that Yugoslavia was and is made of and that the Balkans are made of.”
Albahari is survived by his wife and a son.
—
The post Bosnian Jews mourn Moris Albahari, one of Sarajevo’s last Ladino speakers appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
The latest issue of the Hasidic magazine ‘Chvalyes’ discusses psychedelic drugs
ערגעץ װוּ אױף דער ייִדישער װעלט, אָדער דער ייִדיש־װעלט, דאַרף זיך געפֿינען אַ פֿאָרשער װאָס זאָל זיך אָפּגעבן מיט דער נײַער געשיכטע פֿון דער חסידישער ליטעראַטור, בפֿרט מיט אירע עליות און ירידות, די פּערזענלעכקײטן און אַנשטאַלטן.
אַ נײַע און פֿאַרכאַפּנדיקע חסידישע אױסגאַבע איז תּמיד אַ סיבה זיך צו אַנגזאַזשירן מיט דער דאָזיקער געשיכטע, צו פֿאַרשטײן פֿאַר װאָס ס׳איז כּדאַי דאָס צו לײענען מיט קאָפּ.
טאַקע דערפֿאַר וועל איך הײַנט שרײַבן וועגן „כוואַליעס“ — אַ נײַעם זשורנאַל, וואָס איך האָב הײַיאָר מיטגענומען אין שיל אַרײַן װי לײענװאַרג בעת די לאַנגע יום־טובֿ־דרשות.
ס׳איז פֿאַראַן אַזאַ סטערעאָטיפּ בײַ ייִדישיסטן (און מיט דעם בין איך אױסן נישט־חסידישע ייִדיש־רעדערס און ליבהאָבערס פֿון ייִדיש), אַז חסידיש ייִדיש האָט נאָר צו טאָן מיט גאָר פֿרומע זאַכן, נאָר טעמעס װאָס גוטע פֿרומע לײַט װאָלטן אָנגענומען.
ס׳איז אָבער נישט אַזױ. דורך די אַלע גילגולים פֿון דער אַמעריקאַנער חסידישער ליטעראַטור — זאָל זײַן בלאָגס, װעבזײַטלעך (צום בײַשפּיל „אײַװעלט“ אָדער דער שױן אונטערגעגאַנגענער „קאַװע־שטיבעל“), אָדער אין אַ רײ קורציאָריקע אָבער דאָך לעבעדיקע זשורנאַלן — איז דער אינטערעסאַנטסטער אינהאַלט, לױט מײַן מיינונג, נישט די עסײען װעגן דער חסידישער געשיכטע, אָדער מעשׂיות פֿון צדיקים און רביים, נאָר דװקא די גבֿית־עדותן פֿון טאָגטעגלעכע קאָנפֿליקטן.
געװען אַ מאָל „װעקער“ (דאָרט האָב איך אָפּגעדרוקט אַ פּאָר שטיקלעך, װאָס דאָס איז אַלײן אַ סימן פֿון אָפֿנקײט — װי אָפֿט לײענען די ייִדישיסטן און די חסידים אײנער דעם צװײטן?), און דערנאָך איז מען אַריבער אױף אַ נײַער פּובליקאַציע, „כװאַליעס“.
סײַ „װעקער“ סײַ „קאַװע שטיבעל“ זײַנען צום באַדויערן מער נישטאָ — דאַכט זיך, מער צוליב פֿינאַנציעלע װי אידעאָלאָגישע סיבות. אַ דאַנק דער מי, און מסתּמא דעם כּוח־הגעלטשאַפֿונג פֿון דער רעדאַקציע, האָט מען אָבער שױן אַרױסגעגעבן העכער אַ טוץ נומערן פֿון „כװאַליעס,“ װאָס איך דערלױב זיך צו זאָגן איז פּראָסט־פּשוט אַ גילגול פֿון „דער װעקער.“
דער נײַער נומער איז אָבער באַזונדערש רײַך און כּדאַי אָנצוקוקן צוליב דעם פֿענצטערל, װאָס ער עפֿנט אױף אין דער חסידישער װעלט אַרײַן. און דװקא אַ פֿענצטערל װאָס װײַזט די טײלן פֿון דער געזעלשאַפֿט װאָס אַ סך װילן, זײ זאָלן בלײַבן באַהאַלטן. װי די רעדאַקציע „כװאַליעס“ באַשרײַבט זײער צײַטשריפֿט, דינט זי ווי אַ פּלאַטפֿאָרמע פֿאַר מאַטעריאַלן „װאָס האָבן נישט קײן געהעריגן פּלאַץ אין די אַלגעמײנע אױסגאַבעס אױף די פּאָליצעס פֿון די הײמישע געשעפֿטן.“
ספּעציעל טשיקאַװע איז די טעמע װאָס פֿאַרנעמט דעם אױבן־אָן פֿון דער איצטיקער פֿילפֿאַרביקער הילע: „סײַקעדעליקס,“ דאָס הײסט, דער באַנוץ פֿון פּסיכעדעלישע סובסאַנצן אין די היימישע קרײַזן און זײער װירקונג אױפֿן יחיד און כּלל.
זיכער, װי אַ דאָקטער און אַ מענטש װאָס איז מער װײניקער באַקאַנט מיט דער הױפּטשטראָמיקער גױיִשער אַמעריקאַנער קולטור, האָב איך געװוּסט אַז די דאָזיקע בשׂמים, צום בײַשפּיל אײַאַהואַסקאַ, קעטאַמין, פּסילאָסײַבין, און אַזױ װײַטער, זײַנען געשטיגן אין פּאָפּולעריטעט. נאָר אַז זײ האָבן אױך אַרײַנגעדרונגען אין בתּי־מדרשים, בײַ רבישע משפּחות און גבֿירישע בעלי־בתּים, װי אױך פּאָרפֿעלקער און סתּם חסידים מיט כּלערלײ פֿאַרלאַנגען און פּראָבלעמען – דאָס האָב איך נישט געװוּסט.
אין דעם עפֿענונג־אַרטיקל װאָס דינט װי אַן אַרײַנפֿיר אין דער טעמע, װערט קלאָר װי פֿאַרשפּרייט ס׳איז שױן געװאָרן די דאָזיקע „סחורה.“ „װער האָט מעדיצין?“ פֿרעגט אײנעם בײַ א שבת־טיש. אַ צװײטער זאָגט אַז ער האָט קעטאַמין, נאָר דער װאָס האָט געבעטן די „מעדיצין,“ באַשרײַבט װײַטער דער מחבר פֿון אַרטיקל, „שטעלט קלאָר אַז ער זוכט דװקא שװעמלעך. עס נעמט נאָך אַ סעקונדע ביז אַ צװײטע ברענגט אַפֿיר די געװוּנטשענע ׳מעדיצין׳, װאָס װערט געגעסן בײַם שבת טיש װי דער אַפֿיקומן בײַם סדר.“
װי אַזױ איז מען געקומען צו דעם? מע פּרוּװט באַקענען דעם לײענער אױף אײן פֿוס מיט דער געשיכטע פֿון פּסיכעדעלקס. עס װערט ברײט באַהאַנדלט די אַמעריקאַנער געשיכטע פֿון דער יוגנט-קולטור בשעת די 1960ער יאָרן און אירע פֿאַרבינדונגען מיט פֿאַרשײדענע סובסטאַנצן װאָס „ענדערן“ דעם מוח, װי אױך מעגלעכע פּאַראַלעלן צװישן יענער היפּי־װעלט פֿון געזעלשאַפֿטלעכן אױפֿברױז און דער הײַנטיקער װעלט פֿון כעמיש־נײַגעריקע חסידים.
נישט דאָס װערט דערזאָגט, נאָר די דאָזיקע װעלט איז אױך אין מיטן פֿון אַ רײ לאַנג־טערמיניקע און טיף־גרײכיקע בײַטענישן, און דער דאָזיקער סובסטאַנצן־באַנוץ איז זיכער טײלװײַז געװירקט דערפֿון. אײן קעפּל אין דעם אַרטיקל פֿון דער געשיכטע פֿון פּסיכעדעליקס שטעלט אַפֿילו די פֿראַגע, „צי זעכציג־ט זיך יעצט אין דער הײמישער װעלט?“ דאָס הײסט, צי זײַנען הײַנטיקע הסידים געװירקט פֿון יענע פֿאַרטשאַדעטע יאָרן פֿון דער אַמעריקאַנער יוגנט אין די 1960ער?
שטעקט אפֿשר דער גרעסטער חידוש אין דעם, װי אַזױ די שרײַבערס פֿון די אַרטיקלען אױף דער דאָזיקער טעמע טרעטן אַרױס צו זאָגן אַז דעם נושׂא באַהאַנדלט מען אין דעם נומער װײַל די אָנפֿירערס פֿון זײער קהילה גיבן זיך נישט אָפּ דערמיט. מוטיק, נאָר אױך אונטער פּסעװדאָנימען….און אַרױסברענגען די דאָזיקע פֿראַגעס װיל מען אױף אַ געמאָסטענעם, נישט קאָנטראָװערסיעלן אופֿן. װי עס זאָגן די רעדאַקטאָרן, „מיר זענען נישט דאָ צו טױשן קײנעם אָדער צו שטופּן אַגענדעס.“
דער רעשט פֿון דעם פֿעטן נומער איז אָבער אױך װיכטיק. עס נעמט אַרײַן אַן אַרטיקל פֿון אַ חסידיתטע מיטן פּסעוודאָנים „אשת חבֿר“, אונטערן טיטל „אַ פֿעמיניסטקע װאַקסט אין ברוקלין“. די פֿרוי גײט אַדורך אַ קריזיס פֿון אמונה װאָס װערט באַאײַנפֿלוסט אָבער נישט געלײזט פֿון די װערק פֿון מאָדערן־פֿרומע ייִדישע פֿרױען, װאָס האָבן קריטיקרט אױף אַן ענלעכן אופֿן די ייִדישע פּאַטריאַרכיע.
„איך האָב טועם געװען דעם סאָרט אָפֿענעם דזשודאַיִזם,“ שרײַבט „אשת חבֿר“, „און נישט געטראָפֿן דאָרט אידישקײט. מײַן באַשעפֿער האָט אַ חסידישן אַקצענט.“ לסוף באַשליסט זי, אז אפֿשר מוז זי אַלײן אָנשרײַבן אַ בוך װעגן אירע קאָנפֿליקטן. „אױב איז דאָ אַ בוך װאָס דו װילסט לײענען אָבער עס איז נאָכנישט געשריבן געװאָרן, דאַן מוזטו עס אַלײן שרײַבן.“
אַ לענגערע עסײ, ממש אַ מאַמר, פֿון באַװוּסטן שרײַבער קטלא קניא גיט זיך אָפּ מיט דער טעמע פֿון ייִדישן חינוך — נאָך אַ בײַשפּיל פֿון אַ טיפֿזיניקער און שאַרפֿער קריטיק װאָס צילט דװקא אױף די סאַמע יסודות פֿון חסידישן לעבן־שטייגער. דער מחבר פּרוּװט האַלטן דעם באַלאַנס צװישן מוטיקן דעם בחור צו װעמען ער שרײַבט, און אים „טראָסטן“ (װי עס זאָגן די חסידים) אַלײן צו געפֿינען זײַן װעג אין לעבן. „דאָרט איז דיר איצט באַשערט צו זײַן און װען די צײַט װעט קומען װעסטו דאַרפֿן מוזן אַלײן אַרױסקריכן און אױסװאַקסן.“
(אין 2018 האָט קטלא קניא אַרױסגעגעבן אַ גאַנץ בוך וועגן דער דאָזיקער טעמע.דער עסײ אין „כװאַליעס“ איז אַנדערש, געוואָנדן צו אַ יונגן בחור אין ערשטן פּערזאָן, און פֿאָרט איז דאָס אַ באַװײַז, אַז די פֿאַרמאַכטקײט פֿון חינוך איז פֿאַרבליבן אַן אַקטועלע טעמע, װאָס שטערט דעם שרײַבער.)
אַרױסהײבן דאַרף מען אױך אַ ליד װאָס באַשרײַבט אַ פּרטימדיק, און זײער מענטשיש, בילד פֿון דעם רבונו של עולם אַלײן. דער דאָזיקער כּבֿיכול איז „אינספּײַערד“ (אינספּירירט), זאָגט דער פּאָעט, „בײַ משה רבני, אָבאַמאַ, און דשאַן נאַש.“ ער „שמײכלט מיסטעריעז, מאָנאַ ליזאַ.“ כאָטש ער איז אוניװערסאַל, האָט ער דאָך אַ „סאָפֿט ספּאָט פֿאַר זײַן אידיש פֿאָלק.“ פֿירט אױס דער דיכטער, „שמע ישׂראל – דער װאָן ענד אָנלי, ה׳ אחד!“
צװײ באַמערקונגען פּאַסן דאָ װי אַן אױספֿיר. ראשית-כּל, אַז מע האָט געשאַפֿן די נײיטיקע געלטגעבערס פֿאַר אַזאַ נומער איז אַלײן אַ סימן אַז אַן אױסגאַבע פֿאַר אמתער ליטעראַטור, װאָס מע פֿלעגט רופֿן אין אונדזער קרײַזן אַ „ליטעראַרישע געזעלשאַפֿטלעכע צײַטשריפֿט“ איז יאָ פֿאַראַן, זײַט בײַ זײַט מיט די גאָר פֿרומע אָפֿיצעלע אָרגאַנען, שבת־בלעטער, און הײמזשורנאַלן. (מסתּמא נעמען יענע אַרײַן אױך גוטע ליטעראַטור; איך בין פּשוט װײניק באַקאַנט מיט זײ.)
און לסוף, דאַרף איך מודה זײַן אַז ס׳איז אַ מחיה צו לײענען אַ זשורנאַל פֿון ייִדן, װאָס איז נישט 100% אָפּגעגעבן ישׂראל אָדער פּאַלעסטינע. זײַט װיסן אַז יענע טעמע איז מיר לעבנס־װיכטיק, און פֿאָרט, װערט אָפֿט מאָל אױסגעשעפּט יעדן ביסל שאַפֿערישער כּוח פֿון דער דאָזיקער הײסער טעמע.
דעם דאָזיקן זשורנאַל און זײַנע שרײַבערס פֿעלט נישט קײן כּוח, דאַכט זיך. איך קוק אַרױס צו לײענען די קומעדיקע נומערן.
The post The latest issue of the Hasidic magazine ‘Chvalyes’ discusses psychedelic drugs appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Watch: The cattle farmer building a synagogue in a cornfield
For the past year and a half, we’ve followed Nik Jakobs, a third-generation cattle farmer in Sterling, Illinois, who is building a synagogue in a two-acre cornfield. Alongside it, he is also building a museum of tolerance.
Our coverage began when Nik traveled 600 miles to rescue the ark, bimah and stained glass from a closing congregation in Pennsylvania. After we published our first story about the unlikely journey, additional synagogues began donating their own sacred objects, each from a community that could no longer keep them.
Nik, 41, is the grandson of Holocaust survivors, and the museum is his way of teaching the tolerance that saved his family. His grandmother, Edith, was 11 in 1942 when a Lutheran farmer named Willem Drenth offered the family’s home as a hiding place. She was one of 13 Jews who lived in that single room for two years and eight months, with no electricity and no running water. About a hundred villagers knew about the Jews in hiding. No one said a word.
While in hiding, Edith kept busy by learning to knit. She embroidered a cloth, which survived and will now cover the Torah in Nik’s new synagogue.
This spring, Nik and his family traveled to the Netherlands, where the village staged a play about the family in hiding and the Drenths. They watched actors portray their ancestors, and the Christians who kept their family alive.
Edith died this month at 95. Her voice, trained to a whisper in hiding, never regained its full volume. Her story did.
That story is now drawing others in. The Anne Frank House donates one sapling a year, grown from the chestnut tree Anne saw from her attic hiding place. It has chosen the Illinois synagogue and museum to plant its next one. After visiting Anne’s house with his four daughters, Nik put it this way: “Anne’s story ends. My grandmother’s didn’t.”
Nik and his family broke ground on the sanctuary this spring, on land beside a Lutheran church — the same faith as the farmer who saved his family.
If all goes as planned, the doors open in late 2027. They hope the first service will be the bat mitzvah of Nik’s oldest daughter, Taylor. The pews will hold the congregants of the closing synagogues whose ark, Torah and windows helped build the room, there to see their old homes live again.
Catch up on all of our stories about Nik Jakobs.
The post Watch: The cattle farmer building a synagogue in a cornfield appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
In this Florida district, politicians battle over who most loves Israel
(JTA) — BOCA RATON, Fla. — Rep. Jared Moskowitz said that he is “proud to be known as the most pro-Israel Jewish Democrat in Congress” during a synagogue event in one of the country’s most Jewish congressional districts on Tuesday evening.
The comment came during a one-hour candidates’ forum featuring Moskowitz and his Republican challenger, Scott Singer — both Jewish and both wearing kippahs — that largely centered on Israel and got testy at moments.
Moskowitz said he is “proud to have AIPAC’s endorsement” at a moment when the popularity of Israel and the pro-Israel lobbying group AIPAC has plummeted among Democratic voters amid Israel’s military campaign in Gaza and the war with Iran.
But the crowd at the Reform synagogue Congregation B’nai Israel in Boca Raton was, like Florida’s 25th Congressional District itself, split across party lines, and staunchly pro-Israel.
“This isn’t New York, this isn’t Boston — this is South Florida,” attendee Edward Kone told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Moskowitz had soundly defeated democratic socialist challenger Oliver Larkin, a sharp Israel critic, in August. As Democrats look to take control of the House of Representatives, Florida’s recently redrawn 25th Congressional District — which would have favored Trump by 9 percentage points in 2024 but backed Joe Biden in 2020 under its new boundaries — is being closely watched ahead of the Nov. 3 midterm elections.
Despite some tense moments between Moskowitz and Singer, who was Boca Raton’s mayor until earlier this year, the two politicians have been largely aligned on the issue of Israel.
Both have condemned accusations that Israel has committed genocide against Palestinians in Gaza. They each oppose any effort to condition or cut off U.S. military aid to Israel. Both supported Israel’s strikes on Iranian facilities in 2025, though Moskowitz has since called for the U.S. to end its war with Iran.
Moskowitz referenced his and Singer’s shared pro-Israel viewpoints on Tuesday during the forum moderated by South Florida Sun Sentinel journalist Anthony Man.
“This is exactly why nothing gets done in Washington. This is exactly why nothing is functioning: Because literally two people who agree on 99% of this stuff want to take this 1% and try to ram it down people’s throats,” Moskowitz said.
Singer, however, made a point of emphasizing where the two candidates differ on Israel. He criticized Moskowitz for voting for the March 2026 war powers resolution in response to the Trump administration ordering strikes on Iran without congressional authorization. While Moskowitz has called for the administration to end the war, Singer argued that the threat of Iran must be thoroughly dealt with. “We have to ensure victory here,” he said.
For siblings Edward and Susan Kone, both Jewish Republican voters who attended the forum, Moskowitz’s record on Israel does not stack up against Singer’s positions. They, too, criticized Moskowitz for voting to end the Iran war, and for his 2023 vote to keep Minnesota Rep. Ilhan Omar on the Foreign Affairs Committee.
“I’m America first, but Israel is extremely important to me. And on Israel, Jared Moskowitz just doesn’t add up,” Edward Kone said. Omar is among a number of pro-Palestinian Democrats whom Republicans say are leading the party’s left-wing flank in turning it against Israel..
Singer himself blasted Moskowitz for his vote against removing Omar, and tied Moskowitz to the left flank of the Democratic Party.
“The strategy is adjective, verb, Ilhan Omar, I got it. Let’s move onto the next topic,” Moskowitz responded, drawing some groans from the audience.
Others in the room had voted for Moskowitz in previous elections, and said they were likely to do so again, at least in part because of his Israel stance.
“He has a good track record with Israel, and as an American Jew I appreciate that,” said Peter Davidson, an independent who is a member of Congregation B’nai Israel.
Moskowitz pointed to his endorsement from AIPAC and Singer’s lack of an endorsement from Rep. Randy Fine, a fellow Jewish Republican from Florida, as evidence that he is seen as satisfyingly pro-Israel across parts of the political spectrum. He also pointed to a post on X by Jeff Miller, an RJC board member, who wrote that he has “zero interest in tearing down one of the few Democrats left willing to stand unapologetically with America and Israel.”
“They’re staying out,” Moskowitz said. “They’re specifically saying, ‘We’re not going to oppose Jared Moskowitz because of his record fighting antisemitism and fighting for the State of Israel.’”
Singer has the endorsement of the RJC as well as Trump. He admitted during the forum that he had reached out to Fine for an endorsement and was rejected.
Earlier this year, Singer downplayed anti-Israel trends on the right as “a few fringe commentators” who are out of step with Trump. Moskowitz challenged him to name three of those figures: Tucker Carlson, Candace Owens and Florida gubernatorial candidate James Fishback.
Singer named all three and said “I gladly, shamelessly condemn” them, but countered that Democrats are voting in anti-Israel voices while Republicans cast theirs aside.
Man also asked Singer about President Donald Trump’s use of the term “Shylock” on Monday, a term that references a character from the play “The Merchant of Venice” which is rooted in an antisemitic trope.
“I think that’s an ill-advised term,” Singer said, before pivoting to praise of Trump and urging the audience to focus on what the president has done for Israel rather than his choice of words..
“‘Merchant of Venice’ happens to be my favorite Shakespeare play. That term has multiple meanings. But let’s look at the real record beyond an offhand comment: No president has been better for the State of Israel than President Trump,” Singer said, drawing applause.
As for the upcoming Israeli elections — which Trump recently weighed in on — Singer told reporters after the event that he was too busy with his own race to make endorsements and does not have a preferred candidate.
“To be candid, I have some awareness of it, but I’m not following it intently,” he said.
Singer’s attacks on Tuesday often focused on Moskowitz’s Democratic Party, which he says will drown out the congressman’s pro-Israel views as it takes its cues from its left-wing flank. He pointed to Moskowitz’s quote from last month, when he said that pro-Israel voices are being “ostracized” in the party.
“It’s great that he says these things, but he’s also voted to empower Ilhan Omar twice,” Singer said. “He’s tried to go along to get along with the Squad, and it’s not working.”
But for some in the crowd, that attack didn’t quite land.
Davidson, an independent, said he is “not a great fan” of the Democratic Party. But for him, Moskowitz is an exception.
“He’s more of an independent thinker,” Davidson said. “Crosses a lot of party lines.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post In this Florida district, politicians battle over who most loves Israel appeared first on The Forward.
