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Jewish comedian Modi Rosenfeld, a mainstay for Orthodox audiences, is gay. So what?
(JTA) — Mordechi Rosenfeld, the Jewish comedian, insists that the recent Variety article in which he reveals he is married to a man is not a “coming out” piece.
“This article is showing that I’m a veteran comedian and I’m married to a man,” said Rosenfeld, who is known to his friends and fans by the nickname Modi. “This is it. It doesn’t feel like a coming-out piece to me because I’ve been out.”
Anyone who has listened closely to Rosenfeld’s podcast in the last year would know that he and his husband have been married since 2020. The pair talk about living and traveling together, and in a recent episode revealed they would be vacationing on Fire Island, which has a famous gay scene, with prominent gay Jewish cookbook author Jake Cohen.
But the news could easily have come as more of a surprise for one swath of Rosenfeld’s core audience: Orthodox Jews from communities like the one where he grew up, where LGBTQ inclusion remains an unfamiliar and often frowned-upon frontier. Rosenfeld has delivered his signature blend of highly informed Jewish comedy, which often digs into the technical details of Jewish law, on kosher Passover cruises; at benefits for Orthodox organizations including yeshivas, Young Israel chapters and Hatzalah, the Orthodox ambulance service; and on the annual Chabad-Lubavitch movement telethon. But until recently, his routine has contained little whiff of his personal life — in fact, some of his jokes suggested to his fans that he had a wife named Stacy.
“Stacy” is in fact his manager and husband, Leo Veiga, a millennial raised Catholic in South Florida whom the 52-year-old Israel-born, Long Island-raised comedian met on the New York City subway in 2015. The split content has reflected Rosenfeld’s long-espoused belief that the only way comedy can work is to tailor the set to the crowd.
“Even though some religious organization has brought me in and people are coming to see me, I understand I’m under the umbrella of a certain demographic that I need to respect and know the audience,” Rosenfeld told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “If you put me in front of an audience, I give them what they need. And they don’t need gay material — they need the material for this audience.”
“But when I’m on the road doing my material, I can do whatever I want,” he added. “They came to see me.”
The Variety article was born of Rosenfeld’s deepening belief that it’s possible to merge his Orthodox and gay identities more publicly — something that he has long done as a congregant and sometimes-cantor at the Modern Orthodox synagogue he attends in the East Village.
“The prayers are done in an Orthodox way. And somehow, gays have been attracted to come to this synagogue,” he said. “We have a whole group of gay people and we have a whole group of trans people welcome.”
“The rabbi’s thing is no one should ever feel bullied, no one should ever feel excluded,” Rosenfeld said. “Be you. Be a proud Jew and be you.”
Rosenfeld’s “not a coming out piece” is significant and part of a broader recent pattern, according to Rabbi Steve Greenberg, the founding director of Eshel, an advocacy organization for LGBTQ Orthodox Jews and their families.
“You used to leave. Coming out meant [you] had to go. Because you could either stay and be silent, or speak up and leave,” Greenberg said. “What has begun to change the story is people insisting on not choosing between their religious identities and their queer identities and insisting on staying in Orthodox communities.”
The Variety piece comes at a time of tension around LGBTQ inclusion in Modern Orthodoxy. Yeshiva University — where Rosenfeld studied at the Belz Cantorial School of Music — has made headlines for fighting for the right not to recognize an LGBTQ student club. This month, a synagogue affiliated with the Modern Orthodox flagship also made news for its treatment of a transgender congregant; Yeshiva’s top Jewish law authority said she could no longer pray there.
The episode ignited strong feelings for Rosenfeld.
“To torture someone like that, somebody who’s religious, who’s keeping the mitzvahs, who’s teaching, who’s doing that, and to open that up and to do what they did is so terrible,” Rosenfeld said. “It’s so, so terrible. That’s the only thing I can tell you.”
For Rosenfeld, there’s no tension between Jewish observance and being gay — although his articulation of why reveals an awareness of the pain that others might feel in trying.
“Being gay, you can keep Shabbos, you can keep kosher, you can keep anything you want to do,” he said. “You can learn Talmud, you can learn Torah, the only thing you can’t do is kill yourself. You can’t commit suicide. That’s not even on the table as an option.”
When Rosenfeld shared the Variety article on his Instagram page, the vast majority of the nearly 800 comments left by fans and friends showed support for his public embrace of his gay identity.
“It’s amazing that you announce that you are gay,” one fan wrote. “You are an example to all the Jews struggling with their gayness. You are a role model to me. Cheers.”
“I think it’s great you can be out with so many of your orthodox fans,” wrote Peter Fox, a freelance writer and Jewish community advocate. “What a wonderful gift of visibility.”
But a few commenters said they would boycott his work in the future, some citing interpretations of Jewish law.
“I can’t believe you are gay,” wrote one person. “What a giant Hillul HaShem [desecration of the name of God]. I lost all respect for you. Unfollowing now. And good luck to you when it’s time to be judged by The Almighty.”
Rosenfeld doesn’t anticipate that the Variety article will lose him any gigs. If anything, he says, it might actually increase his audience. Since he has started adding gay material to his repertoire, his audiences have been increasingly LGBTQ, like at some of the “Holidazed” shows he performed in December at Sony Hall in New York.
Still, he noted, “onstage, I’m more Jewish than I am gay.”
Rosenfeld began to dabble in comedy while working on Wall Street early in his career, when his colleagues realized he was good at impressions. In the last several years, he has emerged as a leader in a wave of comedians focusing on their Jewish identities, even playing himself on an episode of HBO’s “Crashing.” Five years ago, New York City’s then-mayor, Bill de Blasio, declared June 26 as “Mordechi Modi Rosenfeld Day” in honor of his contributions to the artistic community, and last August, Rosenfeld co-hosted the first-ever Chosen Comedy Festival on Coney Island with his frequent comedy partner Elon Gold to a crowd of 4,000. The Jewish comedy show has since gone on to an audience in Miami and will head to Los Angeles in February.
Meanwhile, Rosenfeld has embarked on a steady stream of sold-out shows on multiple continents himself, while enjoying several viral moments. In one bit that was shared thousands of times last year, he pilloried the practice of taking people who have made antisemitic comments to Holocaust museums, joking, “It just gives them ideas.”
Since comedy clubs reopened after their pandemic closures, Rosenfeld has worked on new material at New York’s iconic Comedy Cellar, where patrons’ phones are kept in sealed envelopes and filming is prohibited. The absence of phones gives comedians the freedom to workshop new material — and a lot of that new material, for Rosenfeld, has been focused on living with a millennial husband.
Rosenfeld and Veiga’s story is a classic New York City meet-cute: The comedian was riding the 6 train when he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Veiga, then an intern at CAA, the talent agency, introducing himself.
“And then we went on a date,” Rosenfeld told JTA. “I picked him up and I brought him to the Comedy Cellar, where I was performing. And he didn’t know that.”
After his 15-minute set, Rosenfeld returned to the comedians’ table, where he had nabbed Veiga a seat, to gauge his date’s reaction. “I said, ‘So I’m a comedian.’ And then we had dinner, we had two more dates, and then he moved in.”
In the eight years they have been together, Rosenfeld credits Veiga with facilitating the evolution of his career as both his husband and manager. During the COVID lockdown, as comedians everywhere found themselves unable to perform in their usual crowded clubs, Rosenfeld says he thought he was getting a break from work — but it was Veiga who suggested a pivot to video. That’s when Rosenfeld grew his online presence and developed his now-beloved characters, like the Israeli know-it-all “Nir, not far” (married to the fictitious, off-camera Stacy) and the Hasidic Yoely, who reviews quarantine-era TV shows and runs for president.
While Yoely is a character, Rosenfeld, too, is religiously observant. He wraps tefillin in the morning, even while touring, and he and Veiga keep a kosher home. Though Veiga is not Jewish — the couple had a civil wedding — he attends synagogue with Rosenfeld, his Hebrew and Yiddish pronunciation is excellent, and he is extremely well-versed in Jewish ideas and lingo. That has occasionally enabled him to stand up for their relationship when encountering people who believe it is forbidden: In one anecdote on the podcast, Rosenfeld shared that at a Shabbat retreat at a yacht club in notoriously conservative Orange County, California, a man at the couple’s table told them that the Bible says two men should not live together. Veiga retorted that the Bible says people should not mix wool and linen — implying that not all strictures are always followed, and leaving the man dumbfounded, according to Rosenfeld’s account.
Veiga has been part of Rosenfeld’s podcast behind the scenes since it began in August 2021, and began appearing on-screen in the taped recordings in December of that year. (In a sign of how deeply Jewish content is woven into his own life, he once wore a kitschy shirt referring to “muktzeh,” the prohibition of touching or moving certain objects on Shabbat.) Rosenfeld co-hosts the podcast with Jewish comedian Periel Aschenbrand, where guests include a mix of mostly comedians with the occasional rabbi (one time, Alan Dershowitz made an appearance).
Leo Veiga, left, wears a t-shirt bearing the Hebrew word “muktzeh,” which refers to a prohibition of touching certain objects on Shabbat. (Screenshot via YouTube)
In the December episode with Jake Cohen, Rosenfeld and Veiga recounted their experience at the Republican Jewish Coalition meeting in Las Vegas. The couple, who admitted to following RuPaul’s Drag Race more closely than American politics, learned what causes Republican Jews were almost universally excited by (Israel and antisemitism on college campuses) and what causes they were lukewarm on (abortion) solely based on the volume of applause in the room. They also said they were surprised by how welcomed they felt as a gay couple at a Republican event, and remarked on how many of the political figures and donors they met were excited to show them pictures of all the other gay couples they knew.
Veiga said in the episode that he didn’t learn until after they agreed to the gig that the conference lineup included Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis and former Vice President Mike Pence, whom Rosenfeld said he found “a little creepy.” Both men have advanced policies and ideas that are anti-LGBTQ.
Rosenfeld said he had no principled objection to performing for Republicans, or anyone else.
“If the Democrats want to invite me, I will go there,” Rosenfeld said. “If Al-Qaeda wants to invite me, we’re there. A check and a microphone, and I’m there. It’s simple.”
The aside came as Rosenfeld, Veiga and Cohen discussed one of Rosenfeld’s favorite ideas — what he calls “moshiach energy.”
“Moshiach energy,” as Rosenfeld puts it, is akin to the Jewish principle of loving your neighbor as yourself and then putting that energy into the universe in order to bring about the coming of the Messiah. The idea is inspired by the last leader of the Chabad-Lubavitch Orthodox movement, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson — a major source of inspiration for Rosenfeld, who studied at a Lubavitch yeshiva.
Comedian Modi Rosenfeld Rosenfeld speaks with Rabbi Manis Friedman, right, and comedian Periel Aschendbrand on his podcast in November 2021. A portrait of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the last rebbe of the Chabad Orthodox movement, is behind Rosenfeld. (Screenshot via YouTube)
It’s an attitude that he says is embodied by his synagogue, which he has attended since it opened in the 1990s.
“I am so fortunate to belong to a synagogue, Sixth Street Community Synagogue, where when you put moshiach energy out, it comes right back at you,” he said.
Schneerson considered homosexuality a sin and advocated for Jews to choose not to yield to homosexual urges. Last year, on his podcast, Rosenfeld hosted a Chabad rabbi, Manis Friedman, the former translator for the Rebbe, who espouses the same view; he said he finds Friedman inspiring even though he may not agree with all of Friedman’s views. It’s one of many instances where Rosenfeld has been able to square his identities in ways that have proved challenging for others.
Greenberg, the executive director of Eshel, agreed with Rosenfeld’s hypothesis that the Variety article would have little effect on the comedian’s ability to book gigs — and he said Rosenfeld’s commitment to Orthodox ideas and practices could work in his favor.
“Maybe some of those organizations that have hired him before will actually think this is an even more important reason to have him,” Greenberg postulated. “Some people will see this as a kind of affirmative step that you don’t have to abandon your religious identity because you’re gay.”
It’s an idea that is central to one of Rosenfeld’s signature jokes. For him, being Jewish means praying with tefillin every day, eating kosher food and observing Shabbat — while also being married to his husband.
“I always say: the Jewish people — we’re not the chosen people, we’re the choosing people,” Rosenfeld said. “Being Jewish is a lifestyle — like Equinox.”
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The post Jewish comedian Modi Rosenfeld, a mainstay for Orthodox audiences, is gay. So what? appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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This initiative is helping Israeli war survivors heal through art – and is making therapy cool
Tomer Peretz opened the door to his unassuming gallery in Chelsea, draped in a studded black shawl and sporting cartoonishly large – but very cool – sneakers. It was the day after the biggest snowstorm in recent NYC history, and the shoes were, of course, the most practical option for an LA-based Israeli with limited snow experience.
The 8 Project gallery opened in New York this winter, but it is only one piece of a larger initiative. The program, founded by Peretz, brings Oct. 7 survivors, bereaved siblings, Israeli soldiers coping with PTSD, and others affected by the war to Los Angeles for a two-month therapeutic art residency. Participants spend hours each day creating art while also undergoing therapy and mentorship. Now, Peretz has brought the residency program and its accompanying art gallery, which is open only for private events, to New York City.
Upon entering the 8 Project gallery in downtown Manhattan, the first painting one is greeted with is Peretz’s own, a group of Israeli soldiers huddled together, accompanied by the spirits of their fallen comrades represented by icy-white hands painted on the heads of the living. In a city where torn-down hostage posters became almost a fixture of the streets during the Gaza war, the gallery feels both out of place and deeply intentional.
Peretz receives applicants for his therapeutic residency program through rehabilitation hospitals in Israel and via social media. The only real requirement, he says, is a passion for art.
“They don’t have to have technical skills,” he told me. “Art is our toolbox to get through their soul. If they can sit every day and create, they’re already qualified.”
Peretz flies incoming residents to Los Angeles and covers their living expenses so they can focus entirely on healing.
Peretz was a volunteer with ZAKA, the Israeli humanitarian organization that specializes in recovering human remains after terror attacks. In the immediate aftermath of Oct. 7, he helped identify bodies at the sites of the attacks.
Once he returned to his home in LA, where he had been working as a painter for years, he found he could no longer approach his work in the same way. “I realized that everything I had been doing in my life had no real purpose,” he said. “We artists, we think we are so important. But if the work doesn’t do something, it’s just fucking art.”
He began working with artists informally and gradually developed what would become the 8 Project Residency. “I couldn’t create anything besides creating with people who were affected by the war. I cared about nothing else.”
Part of the appeal for residents, he says, is the cool-factor of the program. “People get attracted to cool, fun people.” Unlike traditional therapy — “a boring therapist and psychiatrist in a room,” as he put it — the program offers something different. “We literally brought something completely new, as far as therapy and healing, that is really, really fun.”
Shaked Salton, a former 8 Project resident whose best friend was killed on Oct. 7 and who served as a sergeant in the IDF’s search and rescue unit, told me on Zoom from her new home in LA that she struggled to find motivation after the war. The residency program helped her to find it. “Every day, I needed to wake up in the morning. For someone who’s been through a war, it can be tough.” But in the program, “there is no way you’re not coming to the studio.”
Now, she told me, she’s more connected to her feelings. “I paint better,” she told me. “I came to think more creatively. My brain was blocked.”
Sahar Haba, another former resident who now works as a mentor for the project, also serves as the self-ordained de facto DJ at the gallery. As residents worked on their art in the gallery’s back room, Haba played everything from Billy Joel’s “New York State of Mind,” to techno and Israeli Mizrahi music.
Haba served 15 years in the IDF and experienced the death of several of his friends on Oct. 7 and during the war, including American Hersh Goldberg Polin, whom he met through their shared love for the Israeli soccer team, Hapoel Jerusalem. He adores fashion, evidenced not only by the sneakers and jerseys he designed, displayed throughout the gallery, but also by his decidedly funky graphic socks.
During his residency, Peretz encouraged him to lead art workshops.
“Most of the time, the healing process is like, ‘Let’s talk about you, what do you need?’” Haba said. “Here I had the chance to do it the opposite way — to be the guide.”
Haba led art workshops for Nova survivors, soldiers, families and couples who were affected by the war.
One of the most striking paintings at the 8 Project Gallery is a portrait Peretz painted of Andrei Kozlov, a freed hostage and former 8 Project resident. In the piece, half of Kozlov’s face is incomplete, streaked with black and red contours that suggest the rest of his features.
The painting hung across from where I was conducting interviews that afternoon, so his face had been staring back at me from the gallery wall for much of the day. Unexpectedly, the real Kozlov walked in and introduced himself to me — before joking that I must be interviewing Peretz for a clerk position.
Kozlov became an 8 Project resident a mere five months after he was freed from captivity in Gaza. Now, he lives in New York and spends hours a day working on his art.
Haba showed me a pair of boots he had designed during the war, covered in a collage of hostage posters and featuring a QR code linking to the Bring Them Home website on the tongue of the shoe. He showed his creation to Kozlov, joking that the QR code no longer worked before pulling him into a bear hug.
In the center of the gallery stands a giant tree that Peretz explained was sculpted out of the body bags ZAKA used to collect human remains. References to ZAKA appear throughout the exhibit. In a small side room, a video created by one of the residents is played, which shows ZAKA volunteers sitting in the ruins of the kibbutzim in Israel that were ravaged by the Oct. 7 attacks. The volunteers were instructed to sit in silence for an hour and stare into the camera, resulting in a deeply unsettling film that felt almost too intimate to watch.
Peretz has a self-professed “radical” perspective on healing. “I do not like when therapists or psychiatrists like to dig too much about the past,” he said. “I’m all about shaking the hand of the devil that was with you that day. But once you shake the devil’s hand, OK, let’s move on.”
That’s why the second half of the program is dedicated to helping residents plan for their future. “It’s all about how do we become hungry to wake up tomorrow morning?” said Peretz. “So if I’m going to speak about the past all day, I will not be hungry to wake up tomorrow.”
That concept is where the 8 Project got its name from. “God created the world in 6 days,” said Peretz. “On the 7th day, we got some rest, and on the 8th day, we started to live.” After residents leave the program, Peretz hopes that they, too, can start to live.
Peretz has remained in touch with all of his past residents. “Some of them are going to school. Some of them are building relationships. Some of them are building a career.” He said all have continued to pursue their passion for art.
The gallery is open for private events, and while staff say they have had several people walk into the gallery who are not connected to Judaism or the war in any way, they are not Peretz’s target audience.
“I like that we’re not open for the public, I don’t think we are for the public.” He explained, “I’m not interested to tell my story at all. I don’t want to tell the Jewish story. I’m not trying to get more fans for the Jewish people through this exhibit.”
“I’m not for everyone,” he added. I care only about my brothers and sisters who created this, and the next people who are gonna create more, and that’s it.”
Still, Peretz believes the project’s presence in New York matters.
“New York needs this more than any other city. I realized that the Jewish people in New York are so traumatized, and they need that connection so badly,” he said. “A lot of us, Jewish people in the diaspora, got lost. We need that connection. We want to get the hug.”
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Israel says slain brother of Michigan synagogue attacker was a Hezbollah commander
(JTA) — The man who attacked a Michigan synagogue on Thursday was the brother of a Hezbollah commander who oversaw efforts to shoot rockets into Israel before being killed earlier this month, the Israel Defense Forces announced on Sunday.
The mayor of Ayman Ghazali’s city, Dearborn Heights, said in a statement following his attack on Temple Israel in West Bloomfield, Michigan, that members of Ghazali’s family had recently been killed “in an Israeli attack on their home in Lebanon.”
Israel is targeting Hezbollah, an Iranian proxy in Lebanon that attacked Israel in retaliation against the U.S.-Israel war on Iran, in a conflict that escalated on Monday into a ground operation. Ghazali’s family members were killed in a Hezbollah stronghold where Israel had recently warned civilians to evacuate.
But while images purporting to show Ghazali’s brother in Hezbollah garb circulated on social media almost instantly after attack, the IDF’s announcement marked the first official allegation tying him to the terror group.
“Hezbollah commander Ibrahim Muhammad Ghazali was responsible for managing weapons operations within a specialized branch of the Badr Unit. The unit is responsible for launching hundreds of rockets toward Israeli civilians throughout the war,” the IDF said in a statement on Sunday, adding, “Ibrahim was eliminated in an IAF strike on a Hezbollah military structure last week.”
An unnamed Hezbollah official denied the allegation to The New York Times.
The IDF’s statement did not suggest that Ayman Ghazali was affiliated with Hezbollah. The New York Times reported that he attended a memorial service for those killed in the strike, who included Ibrahim’s young children, at a Dearborn Heights mosque on March 8 that was attended by hundreds of people, many from the Ghazalis’ town.
Ghazali’s ties to Lebanon have prompted a sharp discourse about news coverage of the Michigan attack, with some alleging that focusing on his brother’s death, especially without any confirmation of his brother’s Hezbollah affiliation, runs the risk of suggesting that attacking a Jewish institution in the United States is an appropriate response to grief during wartime.
Dearborn Heights Mayor Mo Baydoun rejected that notion during a press conference alongside the local police chief on Friday.
“We do know that the individual had recently suffered a devastating and personal loss overseas due to an Israeli airstrike on his family’s home in Lebanon, leaving two children dead. The grief is real and it’s heartbreaking, but let me be clear: That is not an excuse,” Baydoun said. “There is never an excuse for violence, especially violence directed at a sacred space.”
Meanwhile over the weekend, authorities in Michigan said Ghazali had died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound after driving his fireworks-laden truck into Temple Israel. They had previously indicated that the synagogue’s security staff, which worked immediately to neutralize the threat, might have fired the fatal shot.
Temple Israel held Shabbat services in multiple locations over the weekend, including at the Chaldean country club, Shenandoah, that welcomed children evacuated from its preschool and at a nearby Jewish country club, Tam-O-Shanter, where a bat mitzvah took place as planned. The synagogue announced on Sunday afternoon that extensive damage to the building meant it would be “closed to us for the immediate future.”
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Amsterdam Jewish school bombed, in 2nd attack in days on Dutch Jewish institution
(JTA) — A blast late Friday outside a Jewish school in Amsterdam has Dutch police racing to safeguard Jewish institutions after two attacks in two days.
As in a blast outside a synagogue in Rotterdam the day before, there were no injuries in the Amsterdam explosion, which caused damage to the school building’s outer wall.
“This is a cowardly act of aggression towards the Jewish community,” Amsterdam Mayor Femke Halsema said in a statement. “I understand the fear and anger of Jewish Amsterdammers. They are increasingly confronted with antisemitism, and that is unacceptable. A school must be a place where children can receive lessons safely. Amsterdam must be a place where Jews can live safely.”
Prime Minister Rob Wetten condemned the attack. “Terrible. In the Netherlands, there must be no place for antisemitism,” he said. “I understand the anger and fear and will quickly engage in talks with the Jewish community. They must always feel safe in our country.”
Calling the incident a “cowardly attack,” David Van Weel, the Dutch security minister, said in a statement, “Thanks to measures and alertness, greater damage has been prevented. The safety of Jewish institutions has our full attention.”
The same group that took credit for the Rotterdam incident as well as a synagogue attack last week in Belgium said in a video that it was responsible for the Amsterdam blast. The group, Islamic Movement of the Companions of the Right, was previously unknown, but watchdogs say its tactics and statements bear hallmarks of affiliation with Iran’s global network of terrorist cells.
Iran has warned that it plans to retaliate across the globe against both U.S. and Israeli targets in response to the war initiated by the U.S. and Israel on Feb. 28. Jewish security watchdogs say “the most elevated and complex threat environment” in recent history has resulted.
Four teens were arrested following the Rotterdam blast but police in Amsterdam have not announced any arrests there, though Halsema noted that a suspect was captured on security cameras installed because Jewish sites in Amsterdam are “under permanent security.”
The school targeted, an Orthodox school of about 120 students founded in the 1970s amid an effort to restore Jewish life after the Holocaust, has a tall, thick security wall as well as bollards meant to prevent vehicles from coming close, according to photographs online. The school’s website says, “The Jewish education and the necessary security of the school are paid for from its own resources and subsidies.”
“Over the past two days, violent incidents have taken place at Jewish institutions. First in Rotterdam, now in Amsterdam. This has a huge impact, not only on the immediate surroundings but on the entire Jewish community, including colleagues,” Amsterdam Police Chief Janny Knol said in a statement. “As the police, we are on standby throughout the country and have scaled up significantly. We are working extremely hard to track down the perpetrators.”
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