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How an ‘unlikely rabbi’ went from Korea to Colbert
Calling herself an “unlikely rabbi,” Angela Buchdahl has been a staple on numerous lists of notable American Jews, including the Forward 50. Born in South Korea in 1972 and raised by a Korean Buddhist mother and an Ashkenazi Jewish father in Tacoma, Washington, she went on to become the first Asian American ordained as a rabbi and first as a cantor. Today, she leads Central Synagogue in New York City, one of the largest and most influential congregations in the country.
Her new memoir, Heart of a Stranger: An Unlikely Rabbi’s Story of Faith, Identity, and Belonging, traces that journey, from the embracing Jewish community she grew up in to finding herself the answer to a Jeopardy question (“What is rabbi?”) — and, even more bizarrely, picking up the phone one day to hear a hostage-taking gunman make demands of her as the “chief rabbi of the United States.” In advance of the book’s release and a launch event hosted by Stephen Colbert, I spoke with her about claiming her place in Jewish life and the responsibility of Jews to always think of the stranger as themselves.
This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.
How did you nab Stephen Colbert for your book launch event — or did he nab you?
His son and my son were college roommates, and I got to know him and his wife, Evie. I learned quickly that this was not only a very funny man and a very good interviewer, but someone who was deeply faithful. He teaches in his church and thinks a lot about faith. I’m very grateful that he said yes.
Your title is Heart of a Stranger. I want to challenge you on that: Haven’t you and I worked for years on representing Jews of color as normative? Are you still feeling like a stranger?
I guess I would argue that you never fully let it go. It’s like someone who says they were chubby as a kid. They’re not chubby anymore, but there’s some way in which they always see themselves as the chubby kid. You carry certain formative identity markers from childhood into your adulthood.
Heart of a Stranger is not an original title. I took it from Torah, which says, “Do not oppress the stranger. You know the heart of a stranger. You were strangers in Egypt.” This is the existential state that Jews are supposed to understand and know. The danger is when we get too comfortable, too powerful, too complacent.
Along those lines, you write about undergoing a conversion, even though your family was Reform, which by the time you were growing up had recognized patrilineal descent. That brought to mind Julius Lester’s conversion, which actually was something of a reversion because his great-grandfather was a German Jew. Lester said that he wasn’t converting to be accepted; he was converting for himself, saying, “I would do it even if no Jew ever accepted me.”
I had a very similar experience. I rejected the idea of converting when it was first suggested to me at age 16. Growing up in Tacoma in a Reform synagogue in my little Jewish bubble, I was accepted without a lot of questions. But I had a lot of existential identity questions: “Was I Jewish enough? Was I authentic enough? Was I learned enough?” And some of the answers were not yes.
I termed it a reaffirmation ceremony rather than conversion, because conversion sounds like turning into something that you weren’t before. I recognized that with a Beit Din of three Reform rabbis, it wasn’t going to change my status one whit for an Orthodox Jew. But it wasn’t for them. It was really a way to ritually mark the journey that I had been on and the acceptance of my identity in a way that felt important to me.
One reason I live in Duluth is I’ve called our little Temple Israel here the warmest shul that I’ve ever found in one of the coldest places on earth. Do you find it true that smaller Jewish communities are more embracing than large ones?
I grew up in a small community that was incredibly embracing of my family, including my mother, and that made a huge difference. I now work at a very large synagogue. I think the big difference is when you’re in a community where not everybody knows each other and they’re encountering people who are strangers. That’s when the inevitable questions come up.
It was disappointing for me after many years of being the senior rabbi of Central to hear from Jews of color who said Central wasn’t as welcoming of them as I thought. It hadn’t solved every problem just by having me as the senior rabbi. That was a painful realization that started a conversation that has shifted the culture at Central.
You write about the synagogue takeover in Colleyville, Texas, in 2022. The perpetrator who held the rabbi and congregants hostage called you while it was going on. He seemed to think that you were the “chief rabbi of the United States.” On the one hand, you’re balancing this misperception of your influence and power. On the other, this was a real situation of life and death.
That was one of the most surreal and destabilizing experiences I’ve ever had as a rabbi. They don’t train you for hostage negotiation in rabbinical school.
This terrorist clearly had done a lot of research. He researched the synagogue, which was the closest synagogue to the federal prison from which he wanted a prisoner released. The FBI went through his computer and saw that he was searching for what he thought was the equivalent of a chief rabbi because he was from England, where there is a chief rabbi. Of course, that doesn’t exist in America. He also mentioned that he saw pictures of me with President Obama at the White House. I think given Central’s name, and the fact that I had been the answer to a Jeopardy question not long before, may have put me higher up on the search algorithm.
It was terrifying because I felt that he very explicitly put the lives of these four people on me. And yet, I felt powerless to do anything. This is a case where I realized the danger of the antisemitic trope that he had imbibed since childhood, that Jews control the government and can make a few phone calls and get anything done. When I said to him, “I don’t think I have as much power as you think I do,” he was like, “Of course you do.” So, yeah, it was a terrifying day. I continue to give thanks that the four who were being held hostage survived.
Another weird note is that he seemed to think it normative that a Jew of color would be the chief rabbi of the United States. Does this mean our efforts for a more inclusive representation of Judaism are paying off?
It is funny because when I was named senior rabbi of Central, there was an Orthodox publication that had a headline like, “It’s official: Non-Jews can be rabbis” — literally calling me a non-Jew. And here was this deranged gunman who seemed to think I was the chief rabbi. I can laugh about it in some ways now that it’s over, but it is ironic.
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Deaths from Iran Protests Reach More Than 500, Rights Group Says
Smoke rises as protesters gather amid evolving anti-government unrest at Vakilabad highway in Mashhad, Razavi Khorasan province, Iran, released on January 10, 2026, in this screen grab obtained from a social media video. SOCIAL MEDIA/via REUTERS
Unrest in Iran has killed more than 500 people, a rights group said on Sunday, as Tehran threatened to target US military bases if President Donald Trump carries out threats to intervene on behalf of protesters.
With the Islamic Republic’s clerical establishment facing the biggest demonstrations since 2022, Trump has repeatedly threatened to intervene if force is used on protesters.
According to its latest figures – from activists inside and outside Iran – US-based rights group HRANA said it had verified the deaths of 490 protesters and 48 security personnel, with more than 10,600 people arrested in two weeks of unrest.
Iran has not given an official toll and Reuters was unable to independently verify the tolls.
Trump was to be briefed by his officials on Tuesday on options over Iran including military strikes, using secret cyber weapons, widening sanctions and providing online help to anti-government sources, The Wall Street Journal said on Sunday.
Iranian Parliament Speaker Mohammad Baqer Qalibaf warned Washington against “a miscalculation”.
“Let us be clear: in the case of an attack on Iran, the occupied territories (Israel) as well as all US bases and ships will be our legitimate target,” said Qalibaf, a former commander in Iran’s elite Revolutionary Guards.
AUTHORITIES INTENSIFY CRACKDOWN
The protests began on December 28 in response to soaring prices, before turning against the clerical rulers who have governed since the 1979 Islamic Revolution.
Iranian authorities accuse the US and Israel of fomenting trouble and called for a nationwide rally on Monday to condemn “terrorist actions led by the United States and Israel” in Iran, state media reported.
The flow of information from Iran has been hampered by an internet blackout since Thursday.
Footage posted on social media on Saturday from Tehran showed large crowds marching along a street at night, clapping and chanting. The crowd “has no end nor beginning,” a man is heard saying.
In footage from the northeastern city of Mashhad, smoke can be seen billowing into the night sky from fires in the street, masked protesters, and a road strewn with debris, another video posted on Saturday showed. Explosions could be heard.
Reuters verified the locations.
State TV showed dozens of body bags on the ground at the Tehran coroner’s office, saying the dead were victims of events caused by “armed terrorists,” as well as footage of loved ones gathered outside the Kahrizak Forensic Medical Center in Tehran waiting to identify bodies.
Authorities on Sunday declared three days of national mourning “in honor of martyrs killed in resistance against the United States and the Zionist regime,” according to state media.
Three Israeli sources, who were present for Israeli security consultations over the weekend, said Israel was on a high-alert footing for the possibility of any US intervention.
An Israeli military official said the protests were an internal Iranian matter, but Israel’s military was monitoring developments and was ready to respond “with power if need be.”
Israel and Iran fought a 12-day war in June last year, which the United States briefly joined by attacking key nuclear installations. Iran retaliated by firing missiles at Israel and an American air base in Qatar.
IRAN DENOUNCES ‘RIOTERS AND TERRORISTS’
While the Iranian authorities have weathered previous protests, the latest have unfolded with Tehran still recovering from last year’s war and with its regional position weakened by blows to allies such as Lebanon’s Hezbollah since the October 7, 2023 Hamas-led attacks against Israel.
Iran’s unrest comes as Trump flexes US muscles on the world stage, having ousted Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro, and floating the possibility of acquiring Greenland by purchase or military force.
Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian, in a TV interview, said Israel and the US were masterminding destabilization and that Iran’s enemies had brought in “terrorists … who set mosques on fire …. attack banks, and public properties.”
“Families, I ask you: do not allow your young children to join rioters and terrorists who behead people and kill others,” he said, adding that the government was ready to listen to the people and to resolve economic problems.
Iran summoned Britain’s ambassador on Sunday to the foreign ministry in Tehran over “interventionist comments” attributed to the British foreign minister and a protester removing the Iranian flag from the London Embassy building and replacing it with a style of flag that was used prior to the 1979 Islamic Revolution.
Britain’s foreign office did not immediately reply to a request for comment.
Alan Eyre, a former US diplomat and Iran expert, thought it unlikely the protests would topple the establishment.
“I think it more likely that it puts these protests down eventually, but emerges from the process far weaker,” he told Reuters, noting that Iran’s elite still appeared cohesive and there was no organized opposition.
Iranian state TV broadcast funeral processions in western cities such as Gachsaran and Yasuj for security personnel killed in protests.
State TV said 30 members of the security forces would be buried in the central city of Isfahan and that six more were killed by “rioters” in Kermanshah in the west.
US READY TO HELP, SAYS TRUMP
Trump, posting on social media on Saturday, said: “Iran is looking at FREEDOM, perhaps like never before. The USA stands ready to help!!!”
In a phone call on Saturday, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and US Secretary of State Marco Rubio discussed the possibility of US intervention in Iran, according to an Israeli source present for the conversation.
Some US lawmakers on Sunday questioned the wisdom of taking military action against Iran. Republican Senator Rand Paul and Democratic Senator Mark Warner warned that rather than undermining the regime, a military attack on Iran could rally the people against an outside enemy.
But Republican Senator Lindsey Graham, who has often touted a muscular approach to US foreign policy, advised Trump to “kill the leadership that are killing the people.”
Reza Pahlavi, the exiled son of Iran’s last shah and a prominent voice in the fragmented opposition, said Trump had observed Iranians’ “indescribable bravery.” “Do not abandon the streets,” Pahlavi, who is based in the US, wrote on X.
Maryam Rajavi, president-elect of the National Council of Resistance of Iran, a Paris-based Iranian opposition group, wrote on X that people in Iran had “asserted control of public spaces and reshaped Iran’s political landscape.”
Her group, also known as Mujahideen-e-Khalq (MEK), joined the 1979 Revolution but later broke from the ruling clerics and fought them during the Iran-Iraq war in the 1980s.
Netanyahu, speaking during a cabinet meeting, said Israel was closely monitoring developments. “We all hope that the Persian nation will soon be freed from the yoke of tyranny,” he said.
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Fire at Mississippi’s largest synagogue under federal investigation after arrest
A suspect is in custody as authorities investigate a weekend fire that damaged Mississippi’s largest synagogue, which has been attacked before.
The fire broke out around 3 a.m. Saturday at Beth Israel Congregation, the only synagogue in Jackson, the state capital. Investigators said the blaze originated in the synagogue’s library, burning it and the offices. Soot and smoke damaged the rest of the building, including the sanctuary.
Two of the synagogue’s Torahs, kept in the library, were burned in the fire; another five in the sanctuary were damaged. An additional Torah, rescued from the Holocaust, was behind a glass case and survived the fire.
“At this time, we do have a person in custody for the fire,” said Division Fire Chief Charles Felton, who is overseeing the investigation. The arrest was made at about 8 p.m. Saturday, he said.
Felton said the FBI is now involved and is expected to pursue federal charges, including determining whether the fire qualifies as a hate crime. Local authorities made the initial arrest before federal investigators stepped in, he said.
A reporter who was inside the building before federal authorities secured the scene described extensive damage. Allen Siegler, a reporter with Mississippi Today, said the interior was “very dark and ashen.”
“It was wet — puddles of ashes,” Siegler told the Forward.
Jackson Mayor John Horhn said the fire was an attack not only on the Jewish community, but on the city itself.
“Acts of antisemitism, racism, and religious hatred are attacks on Jackson as a whole and will be treated as acts of terror against residents’ safety and freedom to worship,” Horhn said in a statement. “Jackson stands with Beth Israel and the Jewish community, and we’ll do everything we can to support them and hold accountable anyone who tries to spread fear and hate here.”
A congregation shaped by fire — and defiance
Beth Israel Congregation, which counts around 150 member families, has anchored Jewish life in Jackson since the Civil War, its history closely tracking both the growth of the city and the persistence of a small but visible Jewish community in Mississippi’s capital.
Founded in the early 1860s, the congregation built Mississippi’s first synagogue — a modest structure on South State Street that doubled as a schoolhouse. It burned in an 1874 fire, a common fate of 19th century wooden buildings, though the cause of the fire is not recorded. The congregation built a new brick structure on the same site, dedicated in 1875.
As Jewish families moved within Jackson, Beth Israel moved with them, relocating first to Woodrow Wilson Avenue and, in the 1960s, to its current home in northeast Jackson.
By the mid-20th century, Beth Israel had become the largest Jewish congregation in the state and a familiar civic presence in a predominantly Christian city — a visibility that brought both belonging and risk.
In September 1967, Ku Klux Klan members bombed the synagogue just weeks after the building was dedicated, damaging the rabbi’s office and library. The home of Rabbi Perry Nussbaum, a vocal supporter of the civil rights movement who had helped the Freedom Riders, was also bombed shortly afterward. No one was injured, and the congregation held High Holiday services in the building that same year.
Rabbi Valerie Cohen, who led Beth Israel from 2003 to 2014 and is now at Temple Emanuel Sinai in Worcester, Massachusetts, said the echoes between past and present were impossible to miss.
“The majority of the damage is in the same place as the bombing,” said Cohen, 54.
The fire felt especially disorienting, she said, because she had been inside the building just days earlier.
“That made this moment sad and surreal and awful,” Cohen said. “I was just there last Shabbat, officiating at a wedding for one of my bar mitzvah students from there that is all grown up now. I participated in the Torah study on Saturday morning in the library, led by their current spiritual leader.”
Cohen described Beth Israel as “very resilient throughout the years” and “very integral” to the Jackson community, noting that many non-Jewish residents know the synagogue through its longtime preschool and annual bazaar.
Despite the damage, congregants say Jewish life in Jackson will continue.
Tamar Sharp, 67, a member of Beth Israel since 2006, is scheduled to celebrate her adult bat mitzvah this coming Shabbat — even if it must be held in a borrowed space with a borrowed Torah.
“Absolutely,” Sharp said. “The show must go on.”
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An arsonist torched a Mississippi synagogue. It feels hauntingly familiar.
A Mississippi synagogue has just been destroyed by hateful actors – and it is not the first time.
I am talking about what happened Saturday morning. An arsonist set fire to the historic Beth Israel Congregation in Jackson, Mississippi. By the time the flames were extinguished, much of the building was destroyed and rendered unusable.
According to reporting by Mississippi Insider, the fire tore through parts of the building, damaging sacred objects, prayer books, and decades of communal memory. Firefighters were able to prevent a total collapse, but the synagogue — founded in 1860 and one of the oldest Jewish congregations in the state — will not be able to function as a house of worship for the foreseeable future.
I am experiencing historical déjà vu. On September 18, 1967, white supremacists bombed Beth Israel in retaliation for the civil rights activism of its rabbi, Perry Nussbaum. Rabbi Nussbaum was a visible ally of Black leaders in Jackson, including Medgar Evers, and his moral courage made him a target. Shortly thereafter, they bombed Rabbi Nussbaum’s home as well. He survived. The building was rebuilt.
Those attacks followed a grim and unmistakable American tradition. For several years, I served The Temple in Atlanta, and congregants still spoke in hushed tones about where they were on the morning of October 12, 1958, when The Temple was bombed by white supremacists angered by Rabbi Jacob Rothschild’s outspoken support for civil rights. That bombing is often remembered as the most infamous attack on a religious building in American history, but what many forget is that it did not stand alone. In the year leading up to it, synagogues in Miami, Nashville, Birmingham, and Jacksonville were also bombed.
Synagogues have succumbed to flames throughout Jewish history. On Kristallnacht, November 9–10, 1938, the Nazis and their collaborators burned or destroyed more than 1,400 synagogues across Germany and Austria. That night was not a spontaneous riot; it was a dress rehearsal for annihilation. And the line of fire stretches further back still, to the Roman destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, and before that to the Babylonian destruction of the First Temple in 586 BCE.
Beth Israel is not just a building. It is a witness. It is a repository of Jewish persistence in a place where Jews have lived as a tiny minority for generations, carving out space for faith, community, and civic engagement in the Deep South. To see it burned is to feel a familiar Jewish nausea, the sickening recognition that this story has been told before — far too many times.
Beth Israel in Jackson burned on Shabbat, coinciding with the Torah portion of Shemot, as we read in the book of Exodus about the burning bush — a bush that burns but is not consumed by flames. Such is Jewish history.
An American tradition?
What disturbs me most is not only the act itself, but its familiarity.
I mentioned my time in Atlanta. I also served as a rabbi in Columbus, Georgia. When I look back on my career, I realize that I have spent no fewer than twenty years serving Jewish communities in the South — and yes, I include South Florida in that number.
During those years, I learned a profound respect for Jews in small Southern communities who tenaciously maintain their synagogues in the face of demographic shrinkage, economic pressure, and cultural isolation. When those synagogues close, as too many do, the community must make sure that there are homes for their Torah scrolls and ritual objects. This is sacred labor, often carried out quietly and without recognition.
Most Americans do not realize that a surprisingly large percentage of Reform synagogues in this country look far more like Beth Israel in Jackson than like the caricature of the large, affluent suburban congregation. The heart of Reform Judaism beats in small, struggling, historic communities. That is why the fire in Jackson sears the Jewish soul. It could be any synagogue. And in my darkest fears, I believe there will be more.
Right about now, some of you are saying, “Well, what did you expect? Look at what has happened in Gaza, and the Palestinians, and Netanyahu…”
If you are saying this, your foolishness betrays you. No one vandalizes Russian Orthodox churches in America because of Vladimir Putin. No one boycotts Chinese restaurants because of China’s persecution of the Uyghurs. And no one should ever suggest that victims of violent bigotry are responsible for the hatred directed at them. We would never say this about any other group. We must not say it about Jews.
The raw truth is what historian Pamela Nadell names so clearly in her indispensable new book, Antisemitism: An American Tradition.
Pamela does not only name and record the incidents of antisemitism that have occurred over the years. She shows that antisemitism is, in fact, an American tradition. It has always been with us, sometimes polite, sometimes lethal, often lying dormant like an autoimmune disease, flaring up when fear, desperation, and social change demand a scapegoat.
An issue for all faiths
Not only because of what has happened, but because of what I fear will follow — not only imitation, but silence. As I write these words, I do not know whether this arson will merit national attention, whether it will appear in The New York Times or vanish into the vast archive of shrugged-off hate. I hope my fears are wrong.
I also wonder who will speak. Will our most trusted chroniclers of American moral life take notice? I admire historian Heather Cox Richardson deeply, and I hope she will address antisemitism with the same moral clarity she brings to other threats to democracy. Because it cannot be that even in the warmest of hearts there is a cold spot for the Jews.
I often think of an artifact I have seen at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C. It is a Torah ark ripped from the wall of a synagogue in Essen, Germany, hurled into the street. Carved into it are the words, “Know before whom you stand.” But those words were deliberately chiseled away by a vandal, as if to declare that there is no one before whom we stand, no God whose presence must be reckoned with — because we are destroying the place where that God so often comes to dwell.
That is why I am turning now to my readers who are not Jewish. I am calling on Christian pastors, Muslim imams, and religious leaders of every tradition to denounce what happened in Jackson this coming weekend. Because just as we rightly said when Black churches were burned, any attack on a house of worship is not only an attack on one community. It is an assault on the very idea that holiness has a place in public life.
And that, ultimately, is an attack on God.
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