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In a shift, Hebrew College will now admit and ordain rabbinical students whose partners are not Jewish
(JTA) — Hebrew College will begin admitting and ordaining rabbinical students in interfaith relationships, according to new admissions standards revealed on Tuesday.
The decision makes the pluralistic seminary outside of Boston the second major rabbinical school in the United States to do away with rules barring students from dating or marrying non-Jews. The Reconstructionist Rabbinical Seminary was the first to do so in 2015.
Hebrew College’s decision comes as rabbinical schools compete over a shrinking pool of applicants and after decades of rising rates of intermarriage among American Jews.
Rabbi Sharon Cohen Anisfeld, Hebrew College’s president, announced the policy change in an email to students and graduates on Tuesday evening. She said the decision, which followed a year and a half of review, came amid a broad revision of the seminary’s “guiding principles for admission and ordination.”
Those new guiding principles were published on the admissions page of Hebrew College’s website late Tuesday, replacing different language that had included the partner policy. “We do not admit or ordain rabbinical students with non-Jewish partners,” the page had previously said, adding that applicants whose partners were in the process of converting would be considered.
“This is a really exciting moment for Jewish communities everywhere,” said Jodi Bromberg, the CEO of 18Doors, a Jewish nonprofit that supports interfaith families. “We all will get to benefit from Jewish leaders in interfaith relationships who have been sidelined from major seminaries up to now.”
Hebrew College has set aside time on Wednesday for its roughly 80 rabbinical students and others to process their reactions about the change, which Anisfeld had previously said she expected to be intense no matter the decision. She declined to comment late Tuesday, saying that she was focused on communication with members of her community.
“This has not been a simple process and, in addition to the strong feelings raised by the policy itself, there have been complex feelings about various stages of the process we’ve undertaken over the past year,” Anisfeld wrote in a message to students in October, in a series of emails obtained by the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Hebrew College’s policy change reflects a longstanding and sometimes painful dynamic in American Jewish life: While nearly three-quarters of non-Orthodox Jews who married in the last decade did so to non-Jews, few traditional rabbinical schools have been willing to train or ordain rabbis in interfaith relationships. Their policies have roots in Jewish law, known as halacha, which prohibits marriages between Jews and non-Jews. But they also reflect anxiety among American Jewish leaders over whether high rates of intermarriage threaten the future of Judaism, and whether rabbis must model traditional practices in their families.
At Hebrew College, which launched its rabbinical school 20 years ago, the prohibition against interfaith relationships had been the only admissions requirement rooted in Jewish law beyond the rule that applicants must be considered Jewish according to at least one Jewish movement. There was no requirement that rabbinical students keep kosher or observe Shabbat.
When the school’s leadership first solicited feedback from students a year ago, several took aim at what they said was hypocrisy in the approach to Jewish law.
“This is the one area of students’ halachic life where I am acutely aware that the school does not trust us, does not think we are capable of navigating our own personal lives, and does not believe that the choices we may make for ourselves have the capacity to expand and enrich our Jewish practice,” wrote one student, according to a collection of anonymous comments shared among students at the time.
A chuppah at a Jewish wedding. More than 60% of American Jews who have married in the last decade have done so to non-Jewish partners, according to a 2021 study from the Pew Research Center. That proportion rises to nearly 75% for non-Orthodox American Jews. (Scott Rocher via Flickr Commons)
Most of the 15 comments that students and graduates shared with their peers called for doing away with the ban on interfaith student relationships, often citing the benefits of having Hebrew College-ordained rabbis reflect the families they are likely to serve.
“We should be training rabbis for the Jewish community that exists and that we want to cultivate, not the one we wish existed or that existed in the past,” one student wrote. “Having intermarried rabbis could do a lot of good: perhaps having role models for a fulfilling, active, intermarried Jewish can help people feel welcomed, not just grudgingly tolerated after the fact — and can increase the likelihood that those intermarried couples want to raise Jewish children.”
Several students and graduates wrote that the policy as it stood incentivized students to obscure their relationships, denying them dignity and preventing their mentors and teachers from fully supporting them. Several suggested that prohibiting students in interfaith partnerships could have a disproportionate effect on queer Jews and Jews of color.
At least one person argued against changing the policy, instead suggesting that the school strengthen enforcement and clarify expectations about other Jewish practices and values.
“By changing the policy Hebrew College is sending the message to the Jewish world that love-based marriages are more sacred than the covenant with which we made at Sinai,” that student wrote, referring to the moment in Jewish tradition when God first spoke to the Israelites. “However, by not changing the policy Hebrew College is affirming that students learn the art of lying. Therefore, my suggestion is to keep the policy but change the ethics on how it is enforced.”
Those comments followed a two-day workshop, facilitated by experts in conflict resolution, about the policy a year ago. The experience was challenging for many of those in attendance, according to the student comments.
“The pain of the need to hide was on full display during Winter Seminar, and I found myself wondering if I could remain in a community whose first response was anything other than to seek healing for the hurt that the policy has inflicted,” one wrote at the time.
With tensions high, an initial deadline to decide whether to keep the policy came and went last June. In late October, Anisfeld wrote to students with an update. A special committee including both rabbinic and academic faculty members had been meeting regularly since July, she said, and would be presenting their recommendation by the end of January.
Last week, she said in her message to students and graduates on Tuesday, Hebrew College’s board approved the policy change and admissions principles revisions.
The decision could renew pressure on other rabbinical schools amid steep competition for students. Several non-traditional rabbinical schools that do not have a requirement about the identities of students’ spouses have grown in recent years, while Hebrew College; the Reform movement’s Hebrew Union College; and the Jewish Theological Seminary and the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies in the Conservative movement all shrunk. Hebrew College recently completed a move to a shared campus after selling its building under financial duress.
“We continue to hear from folks who want to be rabbis and up until this moment had really limited choices,” said Bromberg. “I can’t help but think that this will have a really positive impact on the enrollment in Hebrew College’s rabbinic program.”
The pressure could be especially acute for Hebrew Union College, the Reform seminary with three campuses in the United States. (Because of declining enrollment, the school is phasing out its Cincinnati program.) HUC does not admit or ordain students in interfaith relationships, even though the Reform movement, which does not consider halacha to be binding, permits its rabbis to officiate at intermarriages and to be intermarried themselves.
That policy, which the movement reaffirmed after extensive debate in 2014, has drawn resentment and scorn from some who say it is the only thing holding them back from pursuing Reform ordination.
“All my life, my community had told me that no matter who you are or who you love, you are equal in our community and according to the Divine. But now it feels like I’ve been betrayed, lied to, misled,” Ezra Samuels, an aspiring rabbinical student in a queer relationship with a non-Jewish man, wrote on Hey Alma in 2020, expanding on a viral Twitter thread.
But even the Conservative movement, which bars rabbis from officiating at intermarriages and only recently began permitting members of its rabbinical association to attend intermarriages, is grappling openly with how to balance Jewish law and tradition against the reality around interfaith relationships.
The movement recently held a series of online meetings for members of its Rabbinical Assembly to discuss intermarriage, sparking rumors that the movement could be headed toward policy changes. That’s not the case, according to movement leaders — though they say other shifts may be needed.
“There are no proposals at present to change our standard,” said Rabbi Jacob Blumenthal, the CEO of the RA and United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism, the movement’s congregational arm. “But there is a conversation about what are the ways that we can provide more pastoral guidance to colleagues, especially around moments of marriage.”
The Pew study found new high rates of intermarriage in the Jewish community. (iStock/Getty Images)
Keren McGinity, the USCJ’s interfaith specialist, previously directed the Interfaith Families Engagement Program, a now-defunct part of Hebrew College’s education school. She declined to comment on the internal conversations underway within the Conservative movement. But in 2015, she argued in an op-ed that the Jewish world would benefit from more rabbis who were intermarried.
“Seeing rabbis — who have committed their careers, indeed their lives to Judaism — intermarry, create Jewish homes and raise Jewish children should convincingly illustrate how intermarriage does not inhibit Jewish involvement,” she wrote, citing her research on intermarried couples.
That argument got a boost two years ago, when a major survey of American Jews found that most children of intermarried couples were being raised Jewish. And on Tuesday, McGinity said she was glad to hear that Hebrew College was dropping its partner requirement, which she said she knew had caused students to leave the program in the past.
“The decision to admit rabbinical students who have beloveds of other faith backgrounds is a tremendous way of leading in the 21st century, illustrating that interpartnered Jews can be exemplars of Jewish leaders,” she said.
She added, “Knowing my colleagues, I can only imagine the hours and hours of thought that went into this decision.”
—
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Rabbi Mayer Moskowitz z”l, on Hasidic life in pre-war Czernowitz
[The following is an English version of the original Yiddish article, which you can read here.]
Rabbi Mayer Moskowitz, a beloved longtime educator at the Ramaz School in New York and the Hebrew-immersive Camp Massad, and author of the book A Memoir of Sanctity, has passed away.
In 2010, I interviewed Rabbi Moskowitz to learn what the Hasidic community was like in the city where he was born and raised — Czernowitz (Chernivtsi), then part of Romania, and today Ukraine.
Most contemporary scholars of East European Jewish history focus on prewar Czernowitz as a hub of intellectual and cultural Jewish life; as the location of the first Yiddish conference in 1908; as the milieu where the poet Itsik Manger and fabulist Eliezer Shteynbarg produced their greatest work.
But as the oldest child of the Shotzer Rebbe — Avrohom Chaim Moskowitz, Mayer Moskowitz had a very different perspective of the city, describing it as a center of five Hasidic dynasties and a vibrant Orthodox Jewish community.
I met Rabbi Moskowitz through my son, Gedaliah Ejdelman, who was a student in his class on halacha (Jewish law) at Ramaz Upper School. The following anecdote gives you an idea of the kind of person Rabbi Moskowitz was:
On the day before the final exam, one student asked if he could write his answers in English rather than Hebrew. Half-jokingly, the rabbi told the students that they could respond in any language they wished.
Gedaliah raised his hand and asked if he could write in Yiddish. “Sure,” Rabbi Moskowitz said. So Gedaliah did, citing Rashi and other commentators in mame-loshen. Moskowitz was so delighted by the Yiddish responses that he shared them with his colleagues.
When I met with Rabbi Moskowitz in his Upper East Side apartment in Manhattan, I asked him what life was like in Czernowitz. He told me he was born in 1927, a son — in fact, the only son — of the Shotzer Rebbe, Avrohom Chaim Moskowitz. He explained that Czernowitz had no less than five Hasidic dynasties. Besides his father, there was the Boyaner Rebbe; the Nadvorner Rebbe; the Zalischiker Rebbe and the Kitover Rebbe.
“All the Rebbes were related because the marriages of their children were arranged solely with other rabbinical families in Czernowitz,” he said.
Every Rebbe had his own court of Hasidim but there were marked differences between the Rebbe and his worshippers. The former wore beards and peyes (Yiddish for sidelocks) and donned a shtreimel for the Sabbath and holidays, while their worshippers, seeing themselves as “modern Jews,” were clean-shaven and came to services wearing a tsilinder (top hat) and tailcoat.
“I myself had little peyes,” Rabbi Moskowitz said.
His family lived in the same building as his father’s shul. His mother, Alte Sheyndl, was a daughter of the Pidayetser Rebbe, so she wore a sheitel. But, like the other rebishe kinder (Rebbe’s children), she was apparently influenced by the cosmopolitan character of the city. In contrast to her husband who spoke Yiddish with their children, the Rebbetzin spoke German. She went to the theater, read secular Yiddish poetry and shook men’s hands. On Mother’s Day, little Mayer would bring her a bouquet of flowers and on New Year’s Eve the Rebbetzin and the other daughters of rabbinical families threw a party.
“On New Year’s Eve they came to our apartment on the second floor, elegantly dressed, ate and spent many hours together,” Rabbi Moskowitz said. “Although they didn’t drink any alcohol, the daughters-in-law of the Bayoner Rebbe smoked thin cigarettes.”
Rabbi Moskowitz recalled his first day in cheder at the age of three: “My parents never walked together in public but on that day they dressed me in completely new shorts, shoes and a talis-kotn.” The latter is the traditional four-cornered fringed garment that Orthodox men and boys wear under their shirt.
His parents walked him, hand-in-hand, to the cheder. When they arrived, his father wrapped him in a tallis and carried him inside. On the table, little Mayer saw the diminutive of his name, ‘Mayerl,’ written with large golden letters.
The teacher asked him to repeat each Hebrew letter and its corresponding sound. Every time little Mayer correctly repeated it — “Komets alef ‘o’ … komets beyz ‘bo’ — a honey cookie dropped onto the table in front of him.
“I really thought it was falling from the heavens,” Rabbi Moskowitz said. “As it says in Proverbs: ‘Pleasant words are as a honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.’”
When he was five, Mayer began learning khumesh, the Bible. “It was shabbos afternoon. My relatives, family friends and all five Rebbes came. They lifted me onto the table. I was wearing a brown velvet suit. Each grandfather gave me a golden watch with a little chain and attached it to my suit. Then they asked me: ‘What are you learning in khumesh now?’”
After the quiz was over, the guests began dancing and singing, eating cake and fruit. All the Rebbes wore shtreimels as they sat at tables surrounded by their Hasidim and handed out shirayim — remnants of the blessed food that a Rebbe would give his followers, who believed they would receive a spiritual blessing by eating it. Mayer sat between his grandfathers.
Every morning Mayer went to cheder and three afternoons a week he attended a Zionist Hebrew-language school. In 1936, at the age of ten, he was sent to the city of Vizhnitz (today — Vyzhnytsia, Ukraine) to learn in the yeshiva of the Vizhnitzer Rebbe. He came home only four times a year: on the shabbos of Hanukkah, Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot.
Rabbi Moskowitz remembers Sukkot in Czernowitz: “All year, men and women ate together but not on Sukkot. My mother blessed the holiday candles, came into the sukkah for kiddush and hamotzi but then went back into the house where she ate in the company of the other women in the family.”
The sukkah was large. His father’s Hasidim would gather around their Rebbe’s tish (table) on the second night of Sukkot for the all-night celebration called simkhas-beis-hashoeivah. About 150 men would squeeze into the sukkah. But contrary to tradition, no one slept in it. “It was cold and a bit dangerous,” Rabbi Moskowitz said.
The Shotzer Rebbe’s house also served as an inn for rebbes from surrounding towns, when they needed to come to Chernovitz to see a doctor. Simple Jews, who leased land from non-Jewish noblemen would also come to the inn to see their rebbes. “They were common people, wore workboots and would bring fruit from their fields as a gift for the Rebbe,” he explained.
Many times, impoverished Jews would come to his father’s door asking for money. “One of them, called Fishele, used to say ‘I love you’ to my mother. She was indeed a beautiful woman. So my family would invite him in and feed him the same food we were eating.”
In describing these simple everyday events of his childhood in Czernowitz, Rabbi Moskowitz did a true mitzvah: He enabled us to see the city not only as a magnet for Yiddish writers and cultural activists, but also as a large, thriving Hasidic community.
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On final visit to Israel as mayor, Adams makes a closing argument against Mamdani
JERUSALEM — Outgoing New York City Mayor Eric Adams embarked on a multi-day swing through Israel, billed as both a show of solidarity amid rising antisemitism and a farewell visit. But it was also something else: likely the last international trip a New York City mayor will take for years, a point Adams wanted to underscore.
Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani, a strident critic of Israel, has pledged not to visit the country, breaking with a tradition upheld by every mayor since 1951 to demonstrate solidarity with Jewish constituents at home. He has also vowed to end the city’s decades-long practice of investing millions in Israeli government debt securities and has said he would order the arrest of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu if he lands in New York.
“I think he has to have the level of political maturity to understand that government is not protesting,” Adams said in a fireside chat at an event hosted in his honor by the Combat Antisemitism Movement (CAM) in Tel Aviv on Sunday evening. “And all those who are in his midst, like the Democratic Socialists of America, he needs to explain to them that he’s now the mayor. He’s no longer someone that is just protesting in the city of New York. He has to protect the city of New York.”
In the 30-minute conversation, moderated by Sacha Roytman, chief executive of CAM, Adams repeatedly alluded to the impact of Mamdani’s political rise and victory in the mayoral election earlier this month. The outgoing mayor said he told his team a year ago that Mamdani was on track to win the Democratic primary and that he expected to face him in a general election showdown, believing he could beat him.
Adams made combating antisemitism central to his reelection effort. Elected as a Democrat in 2021, he later lost key support after striking a deal with the Trump administration to drop his corruption case, prompting him to run for a second term on an independent line dubbed “End Antisemitism.” He became popular in Israel after delivering a forceful speech at a New York City rally in the days following the Oct. 7, 2023 Hamas attack on Israel, in which he declared, “We are not alright.” He also resisted progressive pressure to distance himself from Israel and faced backlash for his crackdown on pro-Palestinian protests at colleges and across the city. Adams recently signed an executive order adopting the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance definition of antisemitism, which labels most forms of anti-Zionism as antisemitic.
Mamdani, who attended some of the pro-Palestinian protests, faced the most scrutiny for refusing to outright condemn the slogan “globalize the intifada” and for saying he doesn’t recognize Israel as a Jewish state.
At the Sunday event, Adams took several shots at Mamdani, calling his election “abnormal” and questioning whether outside actors had influenced the race by shaping social-media algorithms. He suggested that the seeds of Mamdani’s campaign, powered by youthful energy and a promise of unconventional change, were planted during the protests against Israel.
“He had a ready-made army,” Adams said. “He had the Free Palestine movement that was heavily in place. He had the war that was going on, and then he had a group of angry youth on our college campuses. So when he emerged and said he was going to run on one issue, the Free Palestine movement, he already had the army that responded to him.” (Mamdani also ran on issues of affordability, universal childcare, and free buses.)
Adams said the Jewish community in New York “must prepare itself” to respond to any antisemitic attacks that might come. “I think this is a period where they need to be very conscious that there’s a level of global hostility towards the Jewish community,” he said, adding, “If I was a Jewish New Yorker with children, I would be concerned right now.”
Speaking with the Forward on Monday, Adams said he is being truthful about the situation. “I’m not going to lie to New Yorkers, I know what I’m seeing,” he said. “Other people will sugarcoat this moment, and I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to lie. I’m not going to pretend as though everything is fine.” To his critics, Adams said, “Those who want to interpret my candid view of what’s playing out now in our city and across the globe, they can do so. That is not up to me to try to convince them of what I am seeing and what I am hearing and what is playing out.”
The outgoing mayor is expected to meet with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu at his office on Tuesday. Netanyahu said in an interview last week, commenting on Mamdani’s win, “If that’s the future of New York, I think New York has a very dim future.” Adams said he’ll assure Netanyahu and other leaders he is meeting with the “49% of New Yorkers did not buy into the rhetoric of the hatred towards Israel.” Madani won with 50.4% of the more than two million votes cast.
Other highlights of Adams’ Israel trip
Earlier in the day, Adams held an emotional 30-minute meeting with three former Israeli hostages — Yarden Bibas, whose wife Shiri and young sons Kfir and Ariel were murdered in captivity; Sagi Dekel-Chen, an American-Israeli released in a ceasefire deal in January; and Bar Kuperstein, who was among the last 20 living hostages freed last month.
Held at the World Jewish Sports Museum at Kfar Maccabiah, Dekel-Chen described his time in captivity and the slow and painful process of healing. Bibas described his life in grief, adding that his only purpose is “to stay alive and remember my wife and kids.”
Adams, visibly shaken, told the former hostages that he admired their resilience and that New Yorkers needed to hear these stories firsthand. He offered to host them for the ball drop in Times Square on New Year’s Eve.
At the museum, Roy Hessing, deputy CEO of the Maccabiah movement, invited Adams to serve as an honorary guest at the next Maccabiah Games, now scheduled to resume in June, after delays due to the war. The event is expected to draw 30,000 participants, including 15,000 from abroad.
Adams also paid a visit to the Western Wall on Sunday night, where he placed a note in the wall and prayed. In the guestbook, Adams wrote that “God is real and life has shown us this.”
Shortly after landing on Saturday, Adams walked through the Nachalat Binyamin neighborhood with Tel Aviv’s deputy mayor, Asaf Zamir, who was Israel’s consul general in New York from 2021 to 2023. Zamir was outspoken against Mamdani throughout the mayoral campaign. Adams has long referred to New York as the “Tel Aviv of America.”
In tours closed to the press, Adams visited the IMI Academy, where Israeli instructors provide tactical and emergency-response training, and the Aerial Systems facility, where he was shown the latest drone and surveillance technologies. He also addressed the annual mayors’ conference hosted by the American Jewish Congress at Jerusalem’s King David Hotel.
At many of his stops, Adams said about his farewell: “I’m not just the mayor that’s leaving office, I’m your brother.”
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Graffiti during Mexican protests against Claudia Sheinbaum’s government calls out ‘Jewish whore’
(JTA) — Mexico’s Jewish community has condemned antisemitic graffiti apparently directed toward the country’s Jewish president during an anti-government protest on Saturday.
The graffiti painted on the door of the Supreme Court building said “puta judia” or “Jewish whore,” in what has been widely interpreted as a reference to Claudia Sheinbaum. It also included a crossed-out Star of David.
The graffiti was painted during a youth-led protest that responds to rising violence, crime and corruption, particularly by drug cartels. Dozens of people were reportedly arrested and injured in Saturday’s protests.
“The Jewish Community of Mexico strongly condemns the antisemitic remarks and expressions” during the march, the community said in a statement on Sunday. “Antisemitism is a form of discrimination according to our constitution and must be rejected clearly and unequivocally.”
Sheinbaum, elected last year, is Mexico’s first Jewish president. She has not made her Jewish identity a part of her public persona and is not a regular participant in the country’s tight-knit Jewish communities.
Israel’s foreign minister, Gideon Saar, also condemned the graffiti. “Israel strongly condemns the antisemitic and sexist slurs directed at Mexico’s President @Claudiashein,” he tweeted while sharing a picture from the protests. “There is no place for such attacks in political discourse. All forms of antisemitism, in any context, must be rejected unequivocally.”
Israel strongly condemns the antisemitic and sexist slurs directed at Mexico’s President @Claudiashein. There is no place for such attacks in political discourse.
All forms of antisemitism, in any context, must be rejected unequivocally. pic.twitter.com/HEDKzq34e8— Gideon Sa’ar | גדעון סער (@gidonsaar) November 16, 2025
Some of Sheinbaum’s detractors have previously invoked her Jewish background, including former President Vicente Fox, who called her a “Bulgarian Jew” in an apparent attempt to minimize her candidacy. He apologized, but made a similar comment after Sheinbaum briefly donned a rosary with a crucifix after being given one during a campaign stop. “JEWISH AND FOREIGN AT THE SAME TIME,” Fox tweeted. Sheinbaum produced her birth certificate multiple times to dispel rumors that she was born in Bulgaria.
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