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I’m a Jewish historian; my grandparents ran a deli. Maybe we’re in the same business.

(JTA) — Like so many other American Jews from the New York area, I have been eagerly awaiting “I’ll Have What She’s Having,” the new exhibit on the American Jewish deli now on view at the New-York Historical Society. After all, the deli was our family business.

I grew up on Long Island during the baby boom era, when large groups of Jews moved to the suburbs. New synagogues opened in almost every town, and Jewish bakeries, shops and schools proliferated around them. 

My family had its pick of half a dozen kosher delis within 20 minutes of our home. We tried them all but came to especially enjoy Brodie’s Kosher Delicatessen, in the Mitchel Manor Shopping Plaza in East Meadow. Like Brodie’s, most of these delis were modest storefronts, with little ambience and a straightforward menu of traditional Eastern European Jewish food and deli meats. Nothing fancy, but it was kosher and delicious and enjoyed by the whole family.

Eating in any of these delis carried special meaning for us because the experience served as a connection to our extended family, who had a long and rich history in the delicatessen world.

After immigrating from Eastern Europe, my grandfather and his brother established themselves in the food business, eventually starting a kosher catering company. In order to continue supporting their growing families, my great-uncle Abe kept the catering business, and in 1929 my grandfather Morris opened Rubin’s Delicatessen. Located in Brookline, Massachusetts, a suburb of Boston, its first location boasted only five tables.  

The deli truly was a family business. My grandmother kept the books, my grandfather’s sister Bessie ran the kitchen and my grandfather worked at the deli counter. Bessie made all the home-cooked food, including an unforgettable hearty vegetable soup, meat knishes, russel (fleishig, or meat-based, beet soup), pot roast, roast chicken, eingemacht (a kind of beet candy preserves), taiglach (a dough and honey sweet dessert for Rosh Hashanah), jelly roll and mandlen (soup nuts). During busy times, such as before Passover and Rosh Hashanah, my grandmother and other great aunts came in and worked together to bake 4-pound sponge cakes. 

The clientele of Rubin’s was something of a “Who’s Who” of Boston Jewry. As in Jewish delis around the country, businesspeople conducted informal meetings there, rabbis stopped in for lunch during their busy days and customers stopped by to pick up essential provisions or to enjoy a quick bite.  

As the years passed and my grandparents got older, discussions about the future of Rubin’s began. Instead of taking over the family business, my father and his brothers pursued career paths outside of the deli, becoming religious leaders and Jewish professionals. My grandparents were proud that their children had pursued white-collar professions. And, in many ways, those children carried on a family business: The spiritual sustenance they provided as rabbis and social workers was an extension of the physical sustenance the deli provided through chicken soup and pastrami sandwiches.

This sense of providing intellectual, emotional and religious nourishment to the Jewish people has continued in various forms through several generations of my family, including my own choices as a Jewish historian, educator and institution builder. 

Rabbi Moshe Schwartz, the author’s son, in front of a sign for the deli founded by his great-grandfather in Brookline, Mass., which by the time it closed in 2016 was located down the street from its original location. (Courtesy of Shuly Rubin Schwartz)

When it finally came time for my grandfather to hang up his apron in June 1974, he had one stipulation when selling the business to his great-nephew: “the Seller has for many years conducted the aforesaid business as a kosher delicatessen and restaurant under the supervision of the Vaad of the Associated Synagogues and wishes to maintain the kosher status of said business so long as the business is conducted under the name of ‘Rubin’ on said premises or on any other premises to which it may be moved.”  

After all those years, his final wish was to keep the “kosher” in his “kosher deli.” 

Rubin’s changed hands a few more times but eventually closed its doors in the summer of 2016, a milestone noted in Boston Magazine.

For many of us, my family especially, the kosher deli experience wasn’t just about the food (although the food of course was delicious and satisfying). Visiting and eating at a Jewish deli became a safe space, a deep link to previous generations, a fun way to comply with Jewish dietary laws, and a place to feel both Jewish and American. Deli meals didn’t simply provide nourishment, they provided comfort — true comfort food — and a way to connect to some of our Jewish traditions.    

“’I’ll Have What She’s Having’: The Jewish Deli” tells the story of how Jewish immigrants like my grandparents helped create a new type of American restaurant and an important piece of American food culture. Reflecting on the many stories I heard about the business growing up, the too-numerous-to-count meals I ate when visiting my grandparents, and the memories of family, Jewish culture and delicious food, I know my visit to the New-York Historical Society will be both emotional and stimulating.

And I think I know what I’ll have for lunch after my visit.


The post I’m a Jewish historian; my grandparents ran a deli. Maybe we’re in the same business. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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How two advice columnists with the same name counseled, comforted and inspired millions of women

Though you probably know about “A Bintel Brief,” the Forward’s advice column that debuted 120 years ago, or the postwar advice columns of Esther and Pauline Friedman, better known as the authors of the advice columns “Ask Ann Landers” and “Dear Abby,” American readers might be less familiar with the work of “Les Deux Marcelles” who launched their careers as advice columnists on the other side of the Atlantic in postwar France.

They were Marcelle Auclair and Marcelle Ségal, two women whose advice columns counseled, encouraged and even emboldened countless women suddenly confronting an old world that was dying and a new world that was being born.

Unlike their American analogues, Auclair and Ségal were not related. The former grew up in Chile, where her father, an architect, assisted in rebuilding Valparaiso and Santiago after a massive 1906 earthquake. Auclair’s father encouraged her literary ambitions as she began publishing poetry and fiction. She returned to France in 1923, married author Jean Prévost and had three children. She continued publishing and moved into journalism.  After noticing Auclair’s columns in the woman’s weekly Femme de France, publisher Jean Prouvost offered Marcelle a “woman’s page” in Paris-Soir (Paris Evening) in 1935 where she responded to letters asking for advice. Two years later she persuaded Prouvost to start a weekly woman’s magazine, Marie-Claire.

Like the Friedmans’ parents (and countless thousands of fellow Jews), Ségal’s mother and father fled Lithuania, then part of the Russian Empire, at the turn of the 20th century. They ended up in France, settling at first in Paris in a neighborhood near what was then the Place Daumesnil, nicknamed Domenilovka by the neighborhood’s large Russian-Jewish community. Their daughter did not start out as a journalist, but folded to family pressure and married a second cousin, the owner of a textile business with whom Ségal quickly had a daughter. Two terrible blows soon followed: In 1927, Ségal’s child died of meningitis and, shortly thereafter, her husband abandoned her.

Ségal struggled to support herself; she took in lodgers, and sold fashion house dresses to wealthy American tourists by knocking on hotel doors. She enrolled in secretarial training and landed a job at a bank where she earned enough to travel during her vacations. She began writing about her travels and eventually published her travel pieces in The Woman’s Journal, which then hired her as a regular correspondent. In 1939, she landed a job as editor and contributor at Marie-Claire shortly before the start of World War II. As the German army approached Paris in June 1940, Ségal joined the massive civilian exodus from Paris, eventually rejoining the editorial staff of Marie-Claire in Lyon.

Marcelle Ségal at her desk. Courtesy of Oxford University Press

After the Armistice of June 22, 1940, the magazine resumed publication from Lyon, and kept Ségal in spite of Vichy’s antisemitic law targeting Jews in the professions. In June 1941 Vichy passed a more severe antisemitic law extending the professional exclusion of Jews in the press beyond leadership roles; five months later, Ségal was fired. She went underground, editing and typing texts for the resistance. “About my resistance work, I prefer not to talk about it,” she wrote in her memoir. “I did too little, way too little, our group having been decimated.”

In the wake of France’s liberation in 1945, Ségal helped launch Elle magazine with two pre-war journalists and friends, Pierre and Hélène Gordon-Lazareff. As Elle sought to build its readership — a daunting challenge when most staples and goods, including paper, were still rationed in France — Hélene Gordon-Lazareff proposed that Elle solicit and respond to readers’ letters about such topics as beauty, fashion, home and love. Reluctantly, Ségal accepted, unhappy that she would be playing the “vulgar role of ridiculous auntie” — namely, an advice columnist. To her great surprise, her column became and remained a fixture in the lives of millions of French women for the next 40 years.

Like Auclair, Ségal served as a bridge to feminism, leading her readers to think for themselves, take control of their lives, and question social expectations damaging to their sense of self-worth. Rather than challenging readers — an approach that the great figure of French feminism, Simone de Beauvoir, sometimes adopts in her canonical work The Second Sex — Ségal was always conversational. She regularly downplayed the importance of physical appearance, questioned beauty standards, and insisted that whatever negative aspect a letter writer expressed about her appearance, the real problem was not how a woman looked but how she felt.

Ségal also warned against the quest for finding a husband. One writer whose boyfriend had recently broken up with her bemoaned, “I’m afraid I’ll never get married. What should I do to get married — quick quick?” “Why quick quick?” Ségal asked. “Take your time.” Similarly, she advised a young woman of 18 to resist her boyfriend’s pressure to drop out of school and marry him. Take time to live, Ségal urged, to experience life, finish her education, and establish her own career. “Take advantage of your youth,” she exhorted, and never “disregard your security and your independence.”

In her 1971 memoir, Moi aussi, j’étais seule (I Was Alone, Too). Segal, who never remarried, reassured her readers that her personal story was not one of failure, loneliness and pain. She decided to write about her single life, she explained, for all unmarried women. “Let’s go single women!” she wrote. “Get out of the house! Go for it! Don’t be afraid! Adventure Awaits!”

Such advice as “Living only for a man represents the number one cause of women’s pain,” seems positively quaint today. And yet, the reason it does so is partly due to Ségal’s trailblazing work. While she never rejected general assumptions about gender, marriage and family life, for 40 years Ségal encouraged women not to feel bound by traditional expectations. She responded to the women who wrote her with messages warning them against blindly following convention or fitting themselves into a standard mold. Ségal’s exhortation “Don’t be afraid!” is no less relevant today than it was during her own life.

 

The post How two advice columnists with the same name counseled, comforted and inspired millions of women appeared first on The Forward.

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Ceasefire and political pressure test U.S.-Israel Iran war pact

Israel is now in a precarious position following President Donald Trump’s sudden declaration of a ceasefire in the Iran war, say experts on security and the Middle East.

On Tuesday evening, President Trump announced in a Truth Social post that he would declare a two-week pause to the war that began on February 28, just an hour and a half before his ultimatum to Iran was set to expire. He had demanded that Tehran reopen the Strait of Hormuz — which had been closed for weeks, choking global energy markets — or face a catastrophic military assault, warning that “a whole civilization will die tonight.”

The Pakistani Prime Minister, who had mediated between the U.S. and Iran, announced that the truce was “effective immediately” and would apply not only to the U.S. and Iran, but also to “their allies” — namely Israel and Lebanon, both of which had been involved in recent exchanges of fire.

But Israel had other ideas. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu — while stating that the U.S. had coordinated with Israel before agreeing to the ceasefire —  disputed the Pakistani claim that the ceasefire included Lebanon. Israel has continued to strike its northern neighbor hard in the wake of the announcement.

Netanyahu maintains the U.S. had assured him it would continue to press on issues critical to Israeli security — namely seeking to ensure that “Iran no longer poses a nuclear, missile and terror threat to America, Israel, Iran’s Arab neighbors and the world.” So far, Iran has resisted such demands.

Despite the ceasefire announcement, Iran struck Israel and Gulf countries well into the evening, and Israel, too, carried out several strikes in the immediate aftermath of the announcement.

Split support

The ceasefire has underscored growing differences between Washington and Jerusalem over both the conduct and goals of the war.

According to Jonathan Panikoff, the director of the Scowcroft Middle East Security Initiative at the Atlantic Council and a former U.S. intelligence official, Israeli and U.S. objectives were misaligned from the outset. Israel sought not only to degrade Iran’s military capabilities but also to pursue regime change.

For the U.S., “it was always less clear … the regime change question was always much more up in the air, and even on the nuclear program, you haven’t seen nearly as much effort against it in the same way as obviously happened during June,” said Panikoff, referring to the 12-Day-War during which the U.S. targeting Iranian nuclear infrastructure with unprecedented force.

Panikoff also said that coordination between Israel and the U.S. on the ceasefire agreement itself was somewhat dubious. “The U.S. almost certainly talked to Israel about the potential ceasefire, but it’s unlikely that Israel played a meaningful role in the decision,” said Panikoff, who believes Israel would have preferred to continue the war to “get through the remainder of the target list.”

Misaligned public opinion in the two countries regarding the war is likely driving the divergence. While the majority of Americans do not support the war, with 61% saying they do not approve of Trump’s handling of the conflict, Israeli support has remained broad across the political spectrum, even amid sustained missile attacks. For Israelis, confronting Iran is viewed as existential. “Iran is a fundamental thing. On the American side, it just is not the same threat,” Panikoff said.

According to Dana Stroul, the Director of Research at the Washington Institute and a former deputy assistant secretary of defense for the Middle East in the Pentagon, Israel’s actions in the immediate aftermath of the ceasefire reflect that gap. She noted that Israel carried out additional strikes in Iran, “which indicates that they still had more targets on their strike list that they wanted to work through, and they were willing to risk, for a brief moment in time, not complying with the ceasefire to do more.”

Stroul said the U.S.-Iran peace talks scheduled to take place on Friday in Islamabad have exposed further tensions. Disputes over whether Israeli operations in Lebanon should halt have already complicated talks between Washington and Tehran. “The Iranians are saying, ‘if Israel doesn’t stop in Lebanon, we won’t go to Islamabad.’”

As a result, she said, “the issue of Israeli behavior and Israeli military action will become a hinge of whether these negotiations proceed on the ceasefire.”

“Within less than 24 hours, the debate shifted from whether or not the parameters for the talks on Friday in Islamabad are acceptable for U.S. national security interests, to where Israel is within this framework,” said Stroul.

Stroul said that this could also create a moment of “peak vulnerability for Netanyahu,” who tied his political future to his alignment with Trump.

Israeli opposition leader Yair Lapid has already taken a swing at Netanyahu in a post on X, stating: “Netanyahu led us to a strategic collapse. There was here a disgraceful combination of arrogance, irresponsibility, negligent staff work, lies sold to the Americans that damaged the trust between the countries. A military success that turned into a diplomatic disaster.”

He added, “Israel had no influence whatsoever on the agreement signed tonight between the United States and Iran. Netanyahu turned us into a protectorate state that receives instructions over the phone on matters concerning the core of our national security.”

Finger-pointing at Israel

The ceasefire coincided with revelations published in the New York Times on internal White House deliberations as Trump weighed military intervention in Iran earlier this year. According to the Times, Netanyahu used a private meeting with Trump and key U.S. officials at  White House to present a plan outlining how the U.S. and Israel could work together to bring down the Islamic Republic, including a montage featuring potential alternative leaders for Iran.

While the presentation appeared to have impressed Trump, the report indicates that the President did not completely buy Netanyahu’s argument that regime change was a viable outcome. Instead, he relied on U.S. intelligence assessments that concluded the U.S. had the capacity to decapitate Iran’s leadership and dismantle its military capabilities, but that hopes for regime change were “detached from reality.”

Based on those assessments, Trump moved forward with a strategy focused on more limited and easily achievable objectives, though working in lockstep with Israel.

The report is unlikely to quell criticism from those who argue that Israel pushed the U.S. toward confrontation with Iran at the expense of U.S. interests.

Panikoff warned of potentially broad political consequences for the longtime allies depending on the outcome of the peace talks and any future fighting. “If this war ends with Iran being in a stronger strategic position regionally.… I think you’re going to get a lot of Republicans, especially in the MAGA wing of the Republican Party, who are going to start to question how this relationship has gone forth. When you combine that with where the Democratic Party is and with Democratic bases right now, I think it portends some real future challenges for the U.S.-Israel relationship.”

The post Ceasefire and political pressure test U.S.-Israel Iran war pact appeared first on The Forward.

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Why I interviewed Mahmoud Khalil

Since he was targeted for deportation by the Trump administration, Mahmoud Khalil has become both a celebrity among those who supported the campus protests against Israel and a villain for Jews who thought the demonstrations fueled antisemitism and sought Israel’s violent destruction.

While Khalil had addressed general allegations that the protests had created a hostile climate on campus in previous interviews — arguing that they may have made students uncomfortable but not unsafe — he had not spoken in detail about some of the most pressing questions for Jews who may have been alarmed by his arrest but were unsure about his actual beliefs.

What did a “free Palestine” — a core demand of the protesters — mean to Khalil?

What did he think about Oct. 7 and Hamas?

And how did he think the protest movement should relate to Jews who don’t share their views?

When a representative for Khalil reached out last month asking whether I wanted to interview him, it presented an opportunity to present his answers to these questions to the Forward’s audience.

I had no illusion that Khalil was going to assuage the concerns of every reader who believe he is antisemitic or otherwise misguided, but I saw my job as trying to understand where he was situated within a protest movement that is gaining political power and influence but remains more fractious than many people outside the movement are aware.

These divisions include divergent views over what the acceptable forms of Palestinian resistance are, what the ultimate objective of anti-Zionism should be, and how the movement should treat Americans — and especially American Jews — who disagree with it.

I know that such distinctions may not matter for those who think that any failure to recognize Israel’s right to maintain a Jewish majority, or opposition to Zionism, period, crosses a red line.

But even those who find anti-Zionism unacceptable may appreciate the opportunity to grapple with how and why a growing number of Americans, including Jews, are turning away from support for Israel in the wake of the wars in Gaza and now Iran. The question of who is going to harness that political sentiment and what they plan to do with it is becoming more important.

I wanted to know where Khalil stood on looming questions.

***

His answers, corroborated through conversations with others who knew and worked with him during the encampments at Columbia as well as his past public statements, were revealing.

Overall, they situated Khalil as a leader of the more conciliatory wing of the protest movement when it came to how it should engage with Israel’s supporters. He has read about and seriously engaged with liberal Zionism, and expressed sympathy for Jews who support Israel; he said Hamas was not a true representative of the Palestinian people, and that it was unacceptable for them to target and kidnap Israeli civilians; and he said that Israeli Jews should remain in a “free Palestine” with full rights.

He supported the statement from protest leaders that condemned a Columbia student who had said “Zionists don’t have a right to live,” opposed the ultimately violent takeover of Hamilton Hall and avoided the slogan “globalize the intifada.”

But his answers also underscored the gulf between even the more moderate protesters and the position of many liberal American Jews, who believe Israel committed war crimes or genocide in Gaza but remain horrified by the atrocities committed by Hamas on Oct. 7 and think that a two-state solution is the only way to preserve Jewish safety while respecting Palestinian rights.

Khalil wanted to assuage Jewish fears that he believed were at least partly responsible for the appeal of Zionism, and yet he did not acknowledge the full extent of violence on Oct. 7 — that Palestinian militants intentionally killed Israeli civilians — which perfectly epitomized a major source of these fears.

Whatever you may think of Khalil or his political views, I’m glad that the Forward can serve as a forum for people both inside and outside the Jewish community to speak with American Jews and I hope you’re able to learn something about Khalil and the movement he helped lead from our conversation.

The post Why I interviewed Mahmoud Khalil appeared first on The Forward.

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