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Dramatic stories of survival, endurance and escape reign as Ukrainian Jews mark 1 year of war

(JTA) — Most of the passengers on the flight from Chisinua, Moldova, to Tel Aviv earlier this month were subdued.

Some had just witnessed scene after scene of hardship on a tour of war-torn Ukraine organized by the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews. Others, about 90 in all, were Ukrainians in the process of moving permanently to Israel, talking in hushed tones about being on a plane for the first time, their uncertain future and the loved ones they left behind.

Alexei Shkurat was not subdued.

Bespectacled and bearded, he was standing in his seat, making wisecracks that caused the elderly woman in the seat next to him to guffaw despite herself.

“I like joking and communicating. It’s my life, why waste it being nervous?” Shkurat told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in English.

“And anyway, I’m happy, happy, happy I will soon see my sons again,” he added.

Switching to Russian, Shkurat’s brow furrowed and his voice lowered when he recounted how, on Feb. 28, 2022, he had risked his life to transport his sons, 14 and 12, to the border with Poland with their mother and grandmother. From there they would move to Israel.

Shkurat could not go with them. The borders were closed for military-aged men, so Shkurat was forced to drive back to his hometown of Odessa. What happened next, as he recounts it, was harrowing: As he passed an empty field near Lviv, he encountered two Ukrainian soldiers, their AK-74 rifles trained on him. Shkurat raised his hands and was told to step out of his vehicle. He knew that if he made one false move, he would be shot.

The soldiers searched the car and interrogated him, asking him why he was traveling alone after curfew and even asking if he was a Russian spy. Shkurat later learned that 40 Russian paratroopers had recently landed in the area and had stolen ambulances and police cars. He answered the soldiers in Russian, which only raised their suspicions. Ukrainian is the dominant language in western Ukraine, but as a Jew from Odessa, Shkurat’s native tongue is Russian.

“I was terrified. I know that they were only doing their job, but the situation was so scary. Everything I ever knew in life had changed,” he said.

Catch up on all of JTA’s coverage of the Ukraine War here.

By a considerable stroke of luck, Shkurat, a street artist, was able to prove his identity by showing the soldiers his Instagram page, filled with posts of his art in locations all over Odessa.

But according to Shkurat, the story was far from over. The next chapter of his life was far more hair-raising, he said. Pressed on the details, Shkurat grinned and switched back to English.

“I can’t tell you a thing,” he said. “I want to sell the story to Netflix.”

Whatever cinematic experience Shkurat might have had, his fellow passengers surely had made-for-the-movies stories of their own. They had made it through nearly a year of war before deciding to move to Israel, making them the latest of 5,000 new immigrants from Ukraine facilitated by the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, working in collaboration with Israeli government entities such as Nativ and the Ministry of Aliyah and Integration. Approximately 15,000 Ukrainians in total have immigrated, or made aliyah, in the last year.

Ukrainian Jewish refugees who fled the war in their country wait on a bus upon arrival at Ben Gurion Airport near Tel Aviv, on an airlift of medically needy passengers made possible by the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, Dec. 22, 2022. (Gil Cohen-Magen/AFP via Getty Images)

According to the group’s vice president, Gidi Schmerling, if there is any upside to the war from Israel’s perspective, it’s that many middle-class Ukrainians — doctors, engineers and high-tech employees — who wouldn’t have otherwise made aliyah are now choosing to do so.

But IFCJ’s mandate also includes the Jews who stayed behind. Since Russian tanks first rumbled across the border a year ago, the group has raised more than $30 million dollars — primarily from evangelical Christians from North America and Korea — for the main Jewish organizations in Ukraine including the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, or JDC, and Chabad. (Both groups do extensive fundraising of their own.) This week, the anniversary of Russia’s invasion, it announced another $4 million in planned spending.

In Odessa, more than 7,000 people currently receive aid from IFJC via local Jewish groups. The Jewish community, once 50,000 strong, now stands at 20,000, according to the city’s chief rabbi, Avraham Wolff. Seven thousand food packages are distributed every month in Chabad centers. Many of the beneficiaries are older — among them some 187 Holocaust survivors — but not all. Several hundred are people who were displaced from surrounding cities, such as Mykolaiv, which was hit much harder by Russian shells, and some are the so-called new poor, those for whom the war has plunged into poverty from loss of income and rising inflation.

Ala Yakov Livne, an 86-year-old widow, is one of many who lined up recently to receive a box with oil, flour and other basic necessities. For Livne, the part that stings most about the last year is the sense of betrayal.

“[The Russians] were our neighbors. Many of them were our friends,” she said.

“Times have changed but some things never change,” Livne went on. “Back then, we were under occupation under the Nazis, back then, they tried to kill us, and now again, we are under occupation and they are trying to destroy us.”

Yelena Kuklova survived the Holocaust by being hidden by non-Jewish neighbors. “We started our lives in war and we’re finishing them in war,” she said. (Deborah Danan)

It was a refrain that would be repeated several times over the ensuing days. In a trembling voice, 85-year-old Holocaust survivor Yelena Kuklova, who as a child was hidden by her non-Jewish neighbors in a suitcase in a closet, echoed the sentiment.

“They killed us then because we were Jews. They are killing us today because we are Ukrainian,” she said, a slow cascade of tears spilling over her cheekbones. “We started our lives in war and we’re finishing them in war.”

And so it was in battle-scarred Mykolaiv, 140 kilometers northeast of Odessa. “What the Germans never managed to do, the Russians did,” said Eli Ben Mendel Hopstein, standing in front of his building, pockmarked from the shrapnel of a Russian missile.

Inside his home, Hopstein rifled through decades-old photos of himself in the navy. “I know danger,” he said, “and I don’t feel it now.” He describes himself as a proud Jew. “First, I am a Jew, then I am Ukrainian, and I never once hid this from anyone.”

Mykolaiv, pro-Russia before the war and now a vanguard of the south, has become a source of pride for its residents because of Russia’s failure to occupy it. Even before the war, Mykolaiv was a desperately poor city. But now, following eight months of daily explosions, destruction is everywhere and the city’s critical infrastructure has been badly damaged.

Damaged buildings are a common sight in Mykolaiv, which Russian troops pummeled during the first year of the war. So are people lining up for potable water. (Deborah Danan)

Like Odessa, the city has no electricity for up to 22 hours a day. For more than half a year, large swaths of the city had no water at all. Today, residents can turn on the tap and get a murky brown liquid known as technical water, but it is far from potable. For drinking and cooking, they are forced to collect safe water in plastic gallon bottles at water stations all over the city, many of which were installed by the Israeli nonprofit IsraAID.

Scenes of people placing buckets outside their houses in the hope of catching rainwater became ubiquitous in Mykolaiv. For its Jewish contingent, Chabad provides truckloads of bottled water. Hopstein credits the IFCJ and Chabad for keeping him alive.

“If it wasn’t for their help, I would have nothing,” he said.

Across the road from Hopstein, 82-year-old Galina Petrovna Mironenko, who is not Jewish, is not so lucky. A Russian S300 missile that appeared to be targeting a nearby university missed its mark and struck Mironenko’s home, decimating her every earthly possession. Mironenko said the only help she gets is a weekly loaf of bread from the government. Standing in her charred kitchen, her red and blue checkered headscarf offering the only color, Mironenko’s expression is almost childlike — a jarring contrast to the words she utters.

Galina Petrovna Mironenko stands in the wreckage of her home in Mykolaiv, destroyed by a Russian missile. Her Jewish neighbor credits aid from Jewish organizations for keeping him alive. (Deborah Danan)

“I have died three times in my life,” she said. “Once when my father died, again when my son died and a third time after the 20 minutes it took for my house to burn.”

Back in Odessa, the sun has set and the city is cloaked in darkness, a cue that soon it will be time to head indoors for the nightly curfew. But first, a visit to the Orlikovsky family who are packing their suitcases ahead of their emigration the next day. On the couch in the tiny living room sit four generations of Jews: Alina; her daughter, Marina; her grandson Andrey; and Andrey’s wife and daughter Viktoria and Sofiya.

Andrey recalls Feb. 24, 2022. “I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears. I heard a terrible blast and grabbed my daughter and told my wife, ‘Let’s get out!’ I thought my house was going to collapse like a doll’s house.”

Participants of the Hanukkah celebration in Kharkiv, northeastern Ukraine, received a hot meal — part of the sustained aid that Jewish communities have distributed throughout the war there, Dec. 18, 2022. (Vyacheslav Madiyevskyi / Ukrinform/Future Publishing via Getty Images)

But it would take nearly a year to finally make the move, because of Viktoria’s late mother who was sick and because, in Andrey’s words, “you get used to the bombs.”

“We live without power, we live without heating, very often there is no hot water. We are living like insects,” Alina said. “My children told me, mama, we need to go.”

When the family finished speaking, the electricity came back and the lights turned on. Sofiya, 5 years old, laughed into her mother’s chest.

The first anniversary of the war marks two weeks since Alexei Shkurat and the other 89 new arrivals were greeted on the tarmac of Ben Gurion Airport by Israel’s new immigration minister, Ofir Sofer. Shkurat is on the lookout for a permanent home in a place where he can sell his art.

“I am getting to know the country and looking for new friends,” he said. “I want to do a lot of beautiful and bright projects. I want to draw a lot,” he said.

He deeply misses Odessa, which he called an amazing city, but being reunited with his sons has soothed the pain.

“Meeting with my children was the best event of the last year,” he said.


The post Dramatic stories of survival, endurance and escape reign as Ukrainian Jews mark 1 year of war 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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