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For theatergoers at Broadway’s recent spate of Jewish shows, attendance is a form of witness
(JTA) — Jewish stories have had top billing on Broadway this season — and Jewish audiences have been flocking to the theater.
Audiences have lined up to see Tom Stoppard’s “Leopoldstadt,” the multigenerational saga of a Jewish family in Vienna, and the devastating consequences of the Holocaust upon its ranks. They have packed the house for “Parade,” a musical retelling of the infamous antisemitic show trial and subsequent lynching of Leo Frank in Marietta, Georgia, in 1915. And just off Broadway, “The Wanderers” (which closed April 2) invited us into the slowly disintegrating marriage of two secular Jews born to mothers who dramatically left the Satmar sect of ultra-Orthodox Judaism, a show replete with intergenerational trauma and a pervasive sense of ennui.
None of these shows offers a particularly lighthearted evening at the theater. So why have they proven so popular? Critics have penned countless reviews of the three plays, analyzing the quality of the productions, the scripts, scores, performances of principal actors, set and design. But for our new book exploring what audiences learn about Judaism from Jewish cultural arts, my colleague Sharon Avni and I have been interviewing audience members after seeing “Leopoldstadt,” “Parade” and “The Wanderers.” We are interested in turning the spotlight away from the stage and onto the seats: What do audiences make of all this? What do they learn?
Take “Leopoldstadt,” for example, a drama so full of characters that when it left London for its Broadway run the production team added a family tree to the Playbill so that theatergoers could follow along. “Leopoldstadt” offers its audience a whistle-stop introduction to modern European Jewish history. In somewhat pedantic fashion, the family debates issues of the day that include Zionism, art, philosophy, intermarriage and, in a searing final scene, the memory of the Holocaust.
For some of the theatergoers that we interviewed, “Leopoldstadt” was powerful precisely because it packed so much Jewish history into its two-hour run time. It offered a basic literacy course in European Judaism, one they thought everyone needed to learn. Others, however, thought that this primer of Jewish history was really written for novice audiences — perhaps non-Jews, or assimilated Jews with half-remembered Jewish heritage, like Stoppard himself. “I don’t know who this play is for,” one interviewee told us. “But it’s not me. I know all this already.”
Brandon Uranowitz, left, who plays a Holocaust survivor, confronts Arty Froushan as a young writer discovering his Jewish roots, in the Broadway production of Tom Stoppard’s “Leopoldstadt.” (Joan Marcus)
Other interviewees thought the power of “Leopoldstadt” lay not in its history lessons, but in its ability to use the past to illuminate contemporary realities. I spoke at length with a woman who had been struggling with antisemitism at work. Some of her colleagues had been sharing social media posts filled with lazy caricatures of Jews as avaricious capitalists. Upon seeing “Leopoldstadt,” she realized that these vile messages mirrored Nazi rhetoric in the 1930s, convincing her that antisemitism in contemporary America had reached just as dangerous a threshold as beheld European Jews on the eve of the Shoah.
We heard similar sentiments about the prescience of history to alert us to the specter of antisemitism today from audiences who saw “Parade.” Recalling a scene where the cast members wave Confederate flags during the titular parade celebrating Confederate Memorial Day, Jewish audiences recalled feeling especially attuned to Jewish precarity when the theater burst into applause at the end of the musical number. “Why were we clapping Confederate flags?” one of our interviewees said. “I’ve lived in the South, and as a Jew I know that when you see Confederate flags it is not a safe space for us.”
“Parade” dramatizes the popular frenzy that surrounded the trial of Leo Frank, a Yankee as well as a Jew, who was scapegoated for the murder of a young Southern girl. Jewish audience members that we interviewed told us that the play powerfully illustrated how crowds could be manipulated into demonizing minorities, comparing the situation in early 20th century Marietta to the alt-right of today, and the rise of antisemitism in contemporary America.
What we ultimately discovered, however, was that audience perceptions of the Jewish themes and characters in these productions were as varied as audiences themselves. Inevitably, they tell us more about the individual than the performance. Yet the fact that American Jews have flocked to these three shows — a secular pilgrimage of sorts — also illustrates the power and the peril of public Jewish storytelling. For audience members at “Leopoldstadt” and “Parade,” especially, attending these performances was not merely an entertaining evening at the theater. It was a form of witnessing. There was very little to be surprised by in these plays, after all. The inevitable happens: The Holocaust destroys Jewish life in Europe, Leo Frank is convicted and lynched. Jewish audiences know to expect this. They know there will be no happy ending. In the secular cultural equivalent to saying Kaddish for the dead, Jewish audiences perform their respect to Jewish memory by showing up, and by paying hundreds of dollars for the good seats.
The peril of these performances, however, is that audiences learn little about antisemitism in reality. The victims of the Nazis and the Southern Jews of Marietta would tell us that they could never have predicted what was to happen. Yet in “Parade” and “Leopoldstadt” audiences are asked to grapple with the naivete of characters who believe that everything will be all right, even as audiences themselves know that it will not. By learning Jewish history on Broadway, audiences are paradoxically able to distance themselves from it, simply by knowing too much.
In the final scene of “Leopoldstadt,” Leo, the character loosely based on Stoppard himself, is berated by a long-lost relative for his ignorance of his family’s story. “You live as if without history,” the relative tells Leo. “As if you throw no shadow behind you.” Audiences, at that moment, are invited to pat themselves on the back for coming to see the show, and for choosing to acknowledge the shadows of their own Jewish histories. The cold hard reality, however, is that a shadow can only ever be a fuzzy outline of the truth.
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The battle between tradition and revolution in Soviet-Yiddish culture
די סאָװעטיש־ייִדישע קולטור איז געװען עסטעטיש אָדער אידעאָלאָגיש פֿילזײַטיק, לכל־הפּחות אין משך פֿון די ערשטע פּאָר צענדליק יאָר. דאָס איז דער עיקר־טעזיס פֿון דער װאָגיקער שטודיע „רױטע ייִדן: דער ייִדיש־סאָװעטישער קולטור־פּראָיעקט“ פֿון דער ליטעראַטור־פֿאָרשערין דאַריע װאַכרושאָװאַס (אוניװערסיטעט פֿון מינכען).
דער ציל פֿון דער פֿאָרשונג איז צו לאָזן דעם הײַנטיקן לײענער הערן די פֿאַרשײדענע שטימען אינעם אַלגעמײנעם כאָר פֿון סאָװעטישע ייִדישע ליטעראַטן, קינסטלער און כּלל־טוער.
ווי האָבן אָט די פֿיגורן פֿאַרשטאַנען די צוקונפֿטיקע ייִדישע קולטור? װי אַזױ האָבן זײ בדעה געהאַט צונױפֿצוברענגען ייִדישקײט און סאָװעטישקײט? װוּ שטײט די סאָװעטישע ייִדישע קולטור אױף דער ייִדישער װעלטמאַפּע? דאָס זײַנען די פֿראַגן, װאָס װאַכרושאָװאַ באַהאַנדלט.
זי גיט זיך ספּעציעל אָפּ מיט לינגװיסטישע פּרטים — טערמינען, מעטאַפֿאָרן, אימאַזשן — װאָס מען האָט גענוצט אין די קריטישע װיכּוחים פֿון יענער תּקופֿה. דערבײַ באַטראַכט זי ניט נאָר די מער באַקאַנטע ליטעראַרישע טעקסטן, נאָר אַ ברײטערן פֿאַרנעם פֿון מקורים פֿון צײַטונגען.
װאַכרושאָװאַ פּרוּװט צו אַנטפּלעקן די פֿילשטימיקײט פֿונעם סאָװעטיש־ייִדישן קולטורעלן פּראָיעקט. זי איז ספּעציעל פֿאַראינטערעסירט אין פֿאַרשײדענע װיזיעס פֿון דער צוקונפֿט פֿון ייִדיש אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד, װאָס מען האָט אַרומגערעדט אין די 1920ער יאָרן.
דאָס בוך באַשטײט פֿון דרײַ טײלן. אינעם ערשטן באַטראַכט װאַכרושאָװאַ כּלערלײ עסטעטישע מאַניפֿעסטן און קינסטלערישע פּראָגראַמען פֿון ייִדישער קולטור, װאָס מען האָט אַרױסגעגעבן נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה אין קיִעװ, מאָסקװע, לאָדזש, װאַרשע און בערלין.
דער צװײטער טײל איז געװידמעט דעם נסתּרס זאַמלונג רײַזע־פֿאַרצײכענונגען „דרײַ הױפּטשטעט“(1934). דער לעצטער חלק אַנאַליזירט די סטיליסטישע און לינגװיסטישע אַספּעקטן פֿון סאָװעטישע ליטעראַרישע איבערזעצונגען אױף ייִדיש פֿון רוסיש און אײראָפּעיִשע שפּראַכן.
די יאָרן נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה זײַנען געװען אַ בלי־תּקופֿה פֿון ייִדישן אַװאַנגאַרד אין ליטעראַטור און קונסט. אין װאַרשע זײַנען דערשינען די זשורנאַלן „רינגען“, „אַלבאַטראָס“, „כאַליאַסטרע“, „די װאָג“; אין בערלין — „מילגרױם“; אין קיִעװ — דיאַלמאַנאַכן „אײגנס“ און „אױפֿגאַנג“. לרובֿ האָבן די דאָזיקע פּובליקאַציעס ניט לאַנג געדױערט, אָבער זײ האָבן געמאַכט דרײסטע פּראָקלאַמאַציעס װעגן דער רעװאָלוציע אין דער ייִדישער קולטור.
למשל, אינעם ערשטן נומער פֿון דער סאָװעטישער קאָמוניסטישער צײַטונג „דער עמעס“ דעם 7טן נאָװעמבער 1920 האָט פּרץ מאַרקיש פֿאַרעפֿנטלעכט אַן אַרטיקל „אױף די װעגן פֿון ייִדישער דיכטונג“. עס איז מערקװירדיק, באַמערקט װאַכרושאָװאַ, װאָס דער דאָזיקער מאַניפֿעסט פֿון דער נײַער סאָװעטישער ייִדישער פּאָעזיע פֿאַרמאָגט ניט קײן מאַרקסיסטישע קאָמוניסטישע מליצה.
אַנשטאָט דעם רעדט מאַרקיש װעגן טיפֿע איבערלעבונגען, װאָס פֿאַרכליניען דעם מענטשן אין דער צײַט פֿון דער רעװאָלוציע. די רעװאָלוציע האָט גורם געװען אַן איבערבראָך אין דער טראַדיציע, „און טאַקע דערפֿאַר קאָנען די דיכטער פֿון אונדזער נײַער שטורעמדיקער תּקופֿה ניט שאַפֿן קײן מאָנומענטאַלע װערק, זײ זײַנען קױלן־גראָבערס […] פֿאַר נײַע תּקופֿות, פֿאַר קומעדיקע דורות,“ שרײַבט מאַרקיש.
אָבער מיט פֿיר יאָר שפּעטער האָט מאַרקיש זיך באַרעכנט װעגן דער המשכדיקײט פֿון דער ייִדישער קולטור. אין אַ רעפֿעראַט אין װילנע אין 1924 האָט ער געזאָגט, לױטן באַריכט אין דער װילנער צײַטונג „טאָג“: „ניטאָ קײן צװײ ליטעראַטורן, ס’זײַנען בלױז פֿאַראַן צװײ ליטעראַרישע עפּאָכעס, מיט פֿאַרשײדענע פֿאָרמעס, אָבער מיט אײן גרונד־ליניע, אײן ענדציל.“
דאָ האָט מאַרקיש פּראָקלאַמיט די המשכדיקײט צװישן די קלאַסיקער װי מענדעלע, שלום־עליכם און פּרץ און דער נײַער ליטעראַטור, װי מאַרקיש אַלײן, װאָס איז אַנטשטאַנען נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה.
אָט די צװײ קעגנזײַטיקע דעות װעגן דער ליטעראַרישער אַנטװיקלונג — אַן איבערבראָך אָדער המשכדיקײט — האָבן באַשטימט צװײ שטרעמונגען אין דער אַלװעלטלעכער ייִדישער ליטעראַטור נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה, סײַ אין סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד, סײַ אין פּױלן און סײַ אין אַמעריקע.
אין אונטערשייד צו דער הײַנטיקער אַמעריקאַנער שיטה אין ייִדיש־פֿאָרשונגען, װאָס פּרוּװן כּסדר צופּאַסן ייִדישע טעקסטן צו דער הײַנטיקער מאָדע אין ליטעראַרישער טעאָריע, איז װאַכרושאָװאַס מעטאָד דער עיקר אַ פֿילאָלאָגישער.
זי באַזירט אירע אױספֿירן אױף אַ גרונטיקן אַנאַליז פֿונעם שפּראַכלעכן סטיל פֿון ייִדישע מקורים. אַזאַ צוגאַנג מאַכט אירע אַרגומענטן גלײַכצײַטיטק מער װאָגיק און מער ניואַנסירט. זי דערװײַזט פּינקטלעך, װי אידעיִשע און עסטעטישע חילוקי־דעות צװישן ייִדישע ליטעראַטן האָבן זיך אַנטפּלעקט דורך שאַטירונגען אין זײער זאַצבױ, װאָקאַבולאַר, אינעם אױסקלײַב פֿון גערמאַנישע, סלאַװישע און לשון־קודשדיקע קאָמפּאָנענטן.
װאַכרושאָװאַ באַמערקט, אַז כּסדר שאַצט מען אָפּ די פּאָזיציעס פֿון סאָװעטישע שרײַבער, אַזעלכע װי מאַרקיש און דוד בערגעלסאָן, פֿונעם שפּעטערן שטאַנדפּונקט, װען מען איז שױן געװױר פֿון זײער טראַגישן אומקום. זי פּרוּװט, להיפּוך, לײענען זײערע טעקסטן דורך דעם מיטצײַטלערישן שפּאַקטיװ. זי ברענגט דעם לײענער אַרײַן אינעם סאַמע ברען פֿון קריטישע װיכּוחים פֿון די 1920ער יאָרן.
אַן אינטערעסאַנטער בײַשפּיל פֿון דעם, װי אַזױ מען האָט זיך געפּרוּװט צופּאַסן צו די נײַע סאָװעטישע באַדינגונגען, זײַנען דעם נסתּרס פֿאַרצײכענונגען װעגן די שטעט כאַרקעװ, לענינגראַד און מאָסקװע אינעם זאַמלבוך „הױפּטשטעט“. דאָס איז געװען זײַן פּרוּװ אַריבערצוגײן פֿונעם סימבאָליסטישן סטיל פֿון זײַנע פֿריִערדיקע דערציילונגען צו דעם רעאַליסטישן סטיל פֿונעם זשאַנער פֿון רײַזע־פֿאַרצײכענונג.
װאַכרושאָװאַ האַלט, אַז דער נסתּר האָט בכּװוּן אָפּגעהיט עלעמענטן פֿון זײַן סימבאָליסטישן סטיל – אַזעלכע װי ריטמישע איבערחזרונגען פֿון די אײגענע װערטער אין אײן זאַץ, דער שװערלעכער דײַטשמערישער זאַצבױ, דער ניט־פֿאַרלאָזלעכער נאַראַטאָר – כּדי אונטערצורײַסן די פּאָזיטיװע שטימונג, װאָס עס האָט געפֿאָדערט די אָפֿיציעלע סאָװעטישע ליטעראַטור. „הױפּטשטעט“ איז אַ דאָקומענט פֿון דעם נסתּרס אַנטױשונג אינעם פּראָיעקט פֿון אױפֿבױען די ייִדישע קולטור אינעם סאָװעטן־פֿאַרבאַנד, פֿאַרסך־הכּלט װאַכרושאָװאַ.
װי אַ צאָל אַנדערע ייִדישע און ניט־ייִדישע מחברים, װאָס זײַנען געשטאַנען אױף די ראַנדן פֿון דער אָפֿיציעלער סאָװעטישער ליטעראַטור, האָט דער נסתּר געפֿונען אַ מקום־מקלט אין איבערזעצערישער אַרבעט. ער האָט איבערגעזעצט אויף ייִדיש די װערק פֿון די רוסישע קלאַסיקער לעװ טאָלסטאָי, פֿיאָדאָר דאָסטאָיעװסקי, איװאַן טורגענעװ, און פֿון אַ היפּשער צאָל דײַטשישע, פֿראַנצײזישע און אַנדערע שרײַבער.
איבערזעצונגען פֿון דער רוסישער און אײראָפּעיִשער בעלעטריסטיק און דיכטונג, פֿון פּאָליטישער און װיסנשאַפֿטלעכער ליטעראַטור אױף די סאָװעטישע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן זײַנען געװען אַ װיכטיקער עלעמענט פֿון דער סאָװעטישער קולטור־פּאָליטיק, און ייִדיש איז ניט געװען קײן אױסנאַם. דערצו איז דאָס געװען אַ מער־װײניקער סטאַבילע פּרנסה, װײַל די האָנאָראַרן האָבן באַצאָלט מלוכישע פֿאַרלאַגן.
דװקא די איבערזעצונגען האָבן אַ סך בײַגעטראָגן צו דער אַנטװיקלונג פֿונעם אײגנאַרטיקן סאָװעטישן נוסח פֿון ייִדיש. איבערזעצונגען זײַנען אויך געװאָרן אַ װיכטיק ליטעראַריש פֿעלד פֿאַר שפּראַכלעכע עקספּערימענטן, בפֿרט װען די פּאָליטישע באַדינגונגען זײַנען אין די 1930ער יאָרן געװאָרן אַלץ שװערער, פֿאַרסך־הכּלט װאַכרושאָװאַ. אַזױ האָט זיך די ייִדישע שפּראַך װײַטער אַנטװיקלט, ניט געקוקט אױף דעם פּאָליטישן דרוק.
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A Jewish nonprofit was training men to prevent sexual abuse. Then the funding disappeared
When Jewish Women International began speaking out on behalf of Israeli women who experienced sexual violence during the Oct. 7 Hamas attack, or during captivity in Gaza, the organization quickly received new funding and partners for its “I Believe Israeli Women” campaign.
Another project, focused on supporting young Jewish women who have felt isolated “in a post-October 7th world,” has also been popular with philanthropic foundations.
But its work to support female victims of violence in the U.S. — historically a core part of its mission — relies on federal government grants that have evaporated in the second Trump administration, sending the whole organization reeling.
The Department of Justice has refused to release more than $200 million in funds allocated by Congress to help prevent violence against women, including the “culturally specific” grants that funded work educating Jewish men — including helping Orthodox leaders in Philadelphia reduce the stigma around reporting domestic violence and training members of ZBT, a Jewish fraternity, on sexual consent.
“I have been struggling to keep my staff employed,” said Meredith Jacobs, the group’s CEO, in an interview with the Forward. “I’ve taken money from a line of credit — I’ve gone into investment funds — with the hope that, ‘Maybe next month we’ll hear,’ ‘Maybe next month we’ll hear,’ ‘Maybe next month we’ll hear.’”
Jacobs eliminated two senior executive roles at the small organization, which currently has 12 employees and a budget of around $2.5 million, laying off its vice president of government relations in April and declining to replace the chief of programming who retired in December.
Grants awaiting approval
Congress appropriated $713 million to the Department of Justice to spend last year on grants required by the Violence Against Women Act, but the department has only distributed $472 million so far with no announcement as to when the rest of the money will be delivered to organizations.
The Trump administration has gummed up the grant distribution process across the federal government with new requirements that a senior political appointee approve each individual grant. Elon Musk’s team of consultants also removed information about how to receive funding from the Justice Department’s Office on Violence Against Women last spring before adding it back with new restrictions.
One grant program, which provides funding for religious minorities, LGBTQ individuals and people with disabilities, has still not been restored.
Jacobs said her organization had been receiving around $200,000 per year in federal grants but was expecting closer to $1 million last year as it expanded its work training other faith-based nonprofits on how to run domestic violence prevention programs.
The Department of Justice did not respond to questions Thursday about when Jewish Women International and other grant applicants would receive responses to their 2025 funding requests.
JWI was founded in 1897 as the women’s auxiliary of B’nai B’rith and, like many legacy organizations that previously relied on mass membership, it has grappled with how to modernize its operations in recent decades. (The National Council of Jewish Women, a larger peer of JWI, is in the process of a restructuring that has entailed severing ties with several local chapters around the country.)
After years of shrinking spending, Jacobs grew JWI’s budget from around $1.5 million when she started the job in 2020 to nearly $3 million last year with new programs that include a gun violence prevention coalition and financial literacy classes for survivors of domestic violence.
Jacobs said that even in the absence of federal funding JWI remains committed to women’s security and is bringing what she called a “trauma-informed” lens, honed through work with victims of violence, to its women’s leadership network.
Sexual violence in the Oct. 7 attacks and their aftermath spurred a wave of private funding focused on Israel, and on the climate for Jews in the diaspora.
“After Oct. 7, the interest shifted to Israel and antisemitism,” said Jacobs. But domestic violence within U.S. Jewish communities, an especially sensitive subject, has drawn little funder interest. “It’s really hard getting donor attention on our work around domestic and sexual violence,” Jacobs admitted.
Some of the group’s core work may be paused indefinitely until either the Justice Department grants are released or private donors step up to cover the gaps.
“It’s hard to talk about the idea that people within the Jewish community would be abusers,” Jacobs said. “It’s something people don’t like hearing about or talking about.”
The post A Jewish nonprofit was training men to prevent sexual abuse. Then the funding disappeared appeared first on The Forward.
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Meet Matt Turner, the only Jewish player on Team USA in the World Cup
(JTA) — When the U.S. squad suits up Friday night to face off against Paraguay in its opening contest in the 2026 World Cup, one Jewish player will be in the mix.
Goalkeeper Matt Turner is not only the lone Jew on the U.S. team but he could well be the only Jewish player in the entire tournament, which is being jointly hosted by the United States, Mexico and Canada starting on Thursday. It’s the first edition of the tournament to be hosted by three countries, and the first to feature 48 teams.
Israel did not qualify for the World Cup and hasn’t since 1970 — due, in part, to geopolitics that pushed its soccer federation to compete in the talented European body, not in Asia.
Jewish players DeAndre Yedlin and Daniel Edelman, who both play in the MLS and have previously played for the national team, are not on the roster this summer. Yedlin played with Turner in the ‘22 tournament in Qatar, where Turner, 31, was a star.
Turner, a New Jersey native, discovered his Jewish heritage by finding his paternal great-grandmother’s emigration papers that had allowed her to flee Lithuania during the Holocaust.
“Once I found the documents, I was certainly very, very excited,” Turner told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in 2023. “America, in general, it’s a melting pot, and everybody has those roots elsewhere. So to understand your story, your history, a little bit is really nice.”
The revelation allowed him to obtain a Lithuanian passport, which made it easier for the goalie to pursue soccer opportunities in Europe. It also changed his relationship to his Jewish identity.
“The more my father and I dug, the more we learned, the more connected I felt to my Jewish side, the Jewish culture of my family,” Turner said at the time. “It really changed a lot of me.”
Turner, who now plays for the New England Revolution in MLS, started all four matches in 2022 for an American club that advanced to the Round of 16. He was the first American goalie with back-to-back shutouts in a World Cup since 1930.
Turner has 53 career appearances with the national team, with a 29-16-8 overall record, including 27 matches in which the opposing team did not score at all. He has also played in the Premier League and was the 2021 MLS Goalkeeper of the Year.
This time around, he is seen as less likely to start, following the ascent of a teammate to the top goalie slot. Still, he says he is moved to be part of the national team once more.
“I’ll probably cry when the national anthem goes,” he told FOX Sports. “It’s just such a huge honor — overwhelming honor — to be granted that responsibility to be on this team to do our best in those roles and ultimately, change soccer here forever.”
Although there are few Jews on the field during the 39-day tournament that ends July 19, one familiar Jewish face — or more accurately, voice — will return this year. Legendary Argentine broadcaster Andres Cantor, whose famous “Goooooooal” calls have helped popularize the sport in the United States, will be calling his 12th consecutive World Cup.
Cantor was born in Buenos Aires to a Romania-born mother and a father whose family fled the Nazis in Poland. He moved to the United States as a teenager and has publicly embraced his Jewish identity.
The post Meet Matt Turner, the only Jewish player on Team USA in the World Cup appeared first on The Forward.
