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Nelson Cruz and other Hispanic MLB players visit Israel to promote Christian-Jewish relations
TEL AVIV (JTA) — On a recent Monday, the owner of a restaurant here captivated a group of 14 lunch patrons with stories of her life before and after moving to Israel from Ethiopia as a youngster. A family visiting from New York approached from another table, and the adult son asked if he could pose for pictures with some of the members of the big group.
After the group had left to walk to the shore nearby, the restaurant’s owner learned that she had just hosted a group of professional athletes and their entourage. She briefly considered running after them for a photo herself.
“I wish I’d known who they were,” she said.
The athletes — Nelson Cruz, Cesar Hernandez and Jeimer Candelario, all Major League Baseball players in the United States — were surprised by what they learned at lunch, too. For instance, they had not known of the existence of Black Jews, including the thousands of Ethiopians living in Israel.
The players and their significant others were brought to Israel for a week by the Philos Project, a U.S.-based nonprofit organization that promotes Christian relations with Israel and other Middle Eastern countries. It was the organization’s first delegation to Israel involving Hispanic athletes, said Jesse Rojo, the Philos Project’s director of Hispanic affairs. The group toured Christian sites in Jerusalem and the Galilee and ran a baseball clinic for Jewish and non-Jewish youth in Raanana.
The visit also aimed to “proactively” combat antisemitism, Rojo said, “to show our baseball players that they can make a difference, not wait for someone to come out with an antisemitic tweet to do something.” The trip was organized well in advance of the recent antisemitism controversies involving American celebrities such as rapper Kanye West and NBA star Kyrie Irving.
But the players also expressed eagerness to learn about Israel and to impart their experiences upon returning to their homelands of the Dominican Republic and Venezuela — and to MLB clubhouses.
Cruz, from the Dominican Republic, is 39th on the MLB’s all-time home run list with 459. He hit only 10 homers this year and is 42 years old, but he said he’s hopeful a team will sign him to a contract for 2023. Hernandez, a second baseman who is also now a free agent, hails from Venezuela and is a former Gold Glove winner, earned for being named the best defender at his position in the American League. Candelario, born in New York but raised in the Dominican Republic, is also looking for a new team after playing six seasons at third base for the Detroit Tigers. Cruz and Hernandez played together on the Washington Nationals this past season.
On a minibus, before it set out for a day of touring, Cruz led a prayer of gratitude as everyone along for the ride bowed their heads. Members of the group uttered “amen” responses throughout. In Jaffa, Candelario expressed excitement at learning that the Bible’s Jonah had departed by ship from the ancient city’s port before being swallowed by a huge fish. At lunch, Candelario led the table in grace.
In separate interviews, each of the three visiting players said he had never heard anti-Jewish or anti-Israel views expressed by relatives, friends or acquaintances. Most of their compatriots, they said, think that Israel is constantly under enemy attack, a view they added was dispelled by their experience traveling around the country and feeling safe.
All attributed pro-Israel inclinations to their strong Christian beliefs, including regularly attending church services. They cited their mothers as devout women who raised them with Bible stories.
“We love God and the word of God. This is the land of our fathers,” said Candelario. “Whoever blesses Israel will be blessed,” he said, paraphrasing God’s promise to Abraham.
Rojo is organizing a charity softball game in the Dominican Republic between Dominican and Jewish-American MLB players in the coastal town of Susua — which was founded by refugees of Nazism who established still-operating dairy and sliced-meat factories. Funds raised through the event will pay to renovate both a baseball field and the town’s synagogue and to commemorate the Jewish immigrants’ roles in Susua’s history, Rojo said.
Cruz is trying to recruit fellow Dominican players to come on subsequent Israel trips and to play in next year’s Susua event. Superstar outfielder Juan Soto, Cruz’s former teammate on the Washington Nationals, considered participating in the recent delegation, but he reversed course after being traded mid-season to San Diego, Cruz said. Cruz also hopes to persuade the retired legends Albert Pujols and Manny Ramirez to come to Israel, too.
Back home, “we’ll share this experience, and definitely more players will be motivated to come,” Cruz said.
“Anyone who’s an opinion-maker from such countries helps us,” said Jonathan Peled, the Israeli foreign ministry’s deputy director general for Latin America. “They become ambassadors of good [will]. Whether a pastor, an athlete, a performer, a YouTuber – on every visit to Israel, there’s nothing like firsthand observation to see Israel in a more balanced, positive manner and less distorted.”
Jeimer Candelario, a third baseman for the Detroit Tigers, interacts with children at the Raanana field. (Nico Andre’ Duran)
Israel enjoys good relations throughout Latin America, with Venezuela an exception after it broke off diplomatic relations with the Jewish state in 2009, Peled said. “But we hope that [ties] will be renewed soon,” he said.
Venezuela, the Dominican Republic and Israel, coincidentally, will be competing (along with Puerto Rico and Nicaragua) in the same group at the upcoming World Baseball Classic, to be held in Miami in March. The teams will feature large contingents of major leaguers, with Israel’s roster consisting mainly of American Jews.
Baseball is not a top sport in Israel, but Team Israel’s periodic success on the world stage has helped promote the game. The Raanana site — dedicated in memory of Massachusetts native Ezra Schwartz, who was killed in a 2019 terrorist attack in Israel — is one of only a handful of baseball fields in the country. Other notable ones are at Kibbutz Gezer, in Tel Aviv’s Yarkon Park, and at the Baptist Village complex in Petach Tikvah.
At the group lunch, Hernandez said that he “would live here” in Israel in the off-season if he could obtain a visa. He was asked whether he meant it.
“Yeah, because it’s the Jesus country,” Hernandez said. “I asked my wife, and she said yes.”
Sitting beside him at the restaurant, Gabriela Hernandez nodded.
“Yes,” she said, “because of the significance it has for us.”
—
The post Nelson Cruz and other Hispanic MLB players visit Israel to promote Christian-Jewish relations appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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These legendary magicians made their Jewish identities — poof! — disappear
Harry Houdini liked to tell people that he was the son of a rabbi, and although he was known for the tricks he played on audiences, that story was true.
The world-famous escape artist was born as Erik Weisz in Budapest to Rabbi Mayer Samuel and Cecelia Steiner Weisz. The whole family emigrated to Wisconsin in 1878.
Many magicians of the Golden Age of Magic, from roughly the 1850s through the 1930s, were Jewish. Estimates put the number as high as 20%. But audiences were unlikely to know it. Onstage, these performers often became someone else.
“Abracadabra,” a new exhibit at Amsterdam’s Jewish Museum highlights the biographies of these Jewish magicians. It reveals the extraordinary tricks they created and popularized, and suggests that they may have tried to escape antisemitism through their stage acts.
Titia Zoeter, who curated the exhibition with Joanne Rosenthal, said the simplest reason why Jews took up magic as a profession was that they were often barred from tradesman guilds and other professions. Magic offered a way to earn a living independently.
The exhibition focuses on a few key figures, like Houdini, Horace Goldin, the “Whirlwind Illusionist” (born Hyman Goldstein); the Bamberg family, which produced magicians Okito and Fu Manchu, as well as the married couple Alexander and Adelaide Herrmann who toured the globe as “Herrmann the Great” and the “Queen of Magic.”
“The fact that several major names from that era were Jewish was reason enough to dedicate an exhibition to this subject.” Zoeter said. “Through these magicians, we could tell a socio-cultural story about Jews and other migrant communities seeking security and building lives in places where opportunities were available to them.”
It’s not entirely clear why Jewish performers are overrepresented in the world of magic, Zoeter said, but it was in part because of the same factors that drew Jews into the performing arts, vaudeville and Hollywood. The stage offered not only a livelihood but a chance to adopt a new persona.
Houdini sometimes played down his Jewish roots, and often told people he’d been born in the United States, rather than Hungary. Adam Begley, author of the recent biography, Houdini: The Elusive American, described how Houdini married a non-Jewish woman, moved away from the orthodoxy of his youth, and sent out Christmas cards.
But he did not deny his Jewish background, and often talked about his father, the rabbi. Audiences long questioned whether the story was true. It wasn’t until 2016 that Mayer Samuel Weiss’s rabbinical ordination certificate was discovered in the Milwaukee County Historical Society.
“Houdini broke free from his history, maybe the history of Jewish persecution, because he became very well loved, popular and famous,” Zoeter said, “although he was a Jew.”
The Bamberg family started as court magicians in 18th century Holland, and the Dutch family went on to produce five more generations of magicians.
Tobias David Bamberg, who went by Theo, became the first global star of the Bamberg magicians at the end of the 19th century. At age 18, he created a Japanese-style act that he performed in Berlin, that he went on to alter over time. He invented tricks that he built himself, including a coin box and a disappearing wand.
Hans Klok, a well-known contemporary Dutch illusionist, inherited a collection of magic props from Okito some years ago, which he loaned to the Jewish Museum for the exhibition. The 25 Okito items on display include a confetti box, which magically turns confetti into silk handkerchiefs, as well as stage decorations, a scrapbook and family photos.
Okito fled to Latin America as World War II was approaching, and later moved to New York, where he opened a magic shop.
As the Orientalist character Fu Manchu, Theo’s son, David Tobias Bamberg, created shows full of spectacular illusions and also appeared in films and musicals.
Alexander Herrmann, a French magician who once performed for Abraham Lincoln, adopted a suave devilish look, complete with tuxedo and goatee, which later became a popular fashion choice for many other magicians. He became famous for levitating his wife, Adelaide, and also shooting her out of a cannon.
For some of these performers, these elaborate stage identities were a form of protection against antisemitism. Dressing in “exotic” clothes and pretending to be unable to speak English added to their mystique, and allowed them to avoid revealing their true identities.
Asian-themed costumes also served a practical purpose: Okito’s oversized kimono had sleeves wide enough to hide all kinds of vanishing objects.
The exhibition also explores the role of women in magic, not only as indispensable assistants, but also as solo performers. After her husband, Alexander, died, Adelaide Herrmann (who was not Jewish) went on to have a very successful career on her own for another 30 years.
Trained in aerial acrobatics and ballet, Herrmann (born Adelaide Scarcez in London to Belgian parents) performed illusions in which she appeared to cut off her own head, and to catch bullets between her teeth.
She also encouraged many other women into the world of magic, as a mentor and advocate.
“I shall not be content until I am recognized by the public as a leader in my profession,” she once said, “and entirely irrespective of the question of sex.”
The Holocaust claimed the lives of many Golden Age magicians, and forced others to flee Europe, often emigrating to the Americas. In 1933, when Hitler came to power, a German author and amateur, Guenther Dammann, put together a book of some of the best magicians of the Golden Age, “Die Juden in der Zauberkunst,” or “Jews in Magic.”
Many of the Jewish magicians profiled in this exhibition also appeared in his book, which is now considered a record of a lost era.
“Abracadabra” runs until March 29, 2027 at the Jewish Museum in Amsterdam.
The post These legendary magicians made their Jewish identities — poof! — disappear appeared first on The Forward.
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A poet’s reaction to this summer’s terrorist attack in Berlin
דעם 25סטן יולי איז דער פּאָעט דזשײק שנײַדער געפֿאָרן קײן װײַמאַר כּדי צו מאָדערירן אַ כּמו־טעלעװיזיע־פּראָגראַם אױף ייִדיש מיט דער אַקטריסע עלענאָר ריסאַ, אַן אונטערנעמונג אין משך פֿונעם פֿעסטיװאַל „ייִדיש־זומער װײַמאַר“. אױף מאָרגן איז ער אַהײמגעפֿאָרן קײן בערלין, װוּ ער האָט מאַרשירט אינעם יערלעכן שטאָלץ־פּאַראַד – אײדער אַ טעראָריסט האָט אַטאַקירט דעם פּאַראַד, דערמאָרדעט אײן פֿרױ און פֿאַרװוּנדיקט מער װי 30 מענטשן. אָט דער „פּאָעטישער באַריכט“ דאָקומענטירט כראָנאָלאָגיש זײַנע פֿראַגמענטאַרישע געדאַנקען און אײַנדרוקן פֿון דעם דאָזיקן מעת־לעת.
װאָס איז טײַטש „לײַװ“?
פֿון דזשייק שנײַדער
פֿאַרבײַגעגאַנגענע רעקלאַמעס׃
פֿאַרטאָפּלט אײַער עקראַנצײַט!
װערט אַ זעלנערין פֿאַר דײַטשלאַנד!
אײַער דירה־געלט איז צו טײַער!
איך דאַרף נאָך מסרן מײַן ראָװער־גנבֿ.
כאַפּן די פֿאַרלאָזלעך פֿאַרשפּעטיקטע באַן.
שױן זיצט מײַן סטודיאָ־עולם און װאַרט.
פּונקט אַזױ װי די װערטער פֿון דער װאָך.
אונטערװאַרטן, אָפּװאַרטן, צוּװאַרטן.
פּונקט אַזױ װי יאַנקלס נײַער װערטער־װידעאָ.
עס װאַרט אַ שיסל מיט ברױנע עם־ען־עמס.
איך האָב שױן אײן מאָל פּראָבירט דעם קלאַנג.
אַ שמועס־שעה אױף פֿאַרשטומטן ייִדיש.
אַ טעלעװיזיע־פּראָגראַם אָן טעלעװיזיעס.
אַ לעבעדיקע לאַכטאַשמע, דאַנקען גאָט.
„אונדזער עולם“ איז דאָך דאָ אין װײַמאַר.
איך דאַרף נישט איבערחזרן אױף כינעזיש.
פּאָסטקאַרטלעך פֿון װאַרשע, סאַו־פּאַולו.
אַכט מדינות… אָבער נישט דײַטשלאַנד.
עלענאָר באַװױנט אונדזער נישט־טעלעװיזיע.
ליבע־בריװ פֿונעם אונטערװעש־שופֿלאָד.
דאָס טײַערסטע קלײד פֿון אַ גאַנץ לעבן.
אַז מען דערמאָנט פֿראַנק לאָנדאָנען…
כּדי צו שטראָמען באַדאַרף מען נײַעס.
אַזאַ מין איצט באַדאַרף אַן איצטיקײט.
אַנישט קומט דער נעטפֿליקס־עפֿעקט.
אָן־סופֿיקע אַפֿישן אַדורכצובלעטערן.
בײַ ממשותדיקע נײַעס קומען שטױס־מעלדונגען.
די מאָבילקעס, טאַבלעטן און זײגערלעך װיברירן.
און שױן איז אונדזער שמועס־שעה פֿאַרבײַ.
שױן האָבן מיר געבענטשט עלעקרטישע ליכט.
געריסן די חלות, געגעסן די אוגערקעס.
אֵין כּל, אֵין כּל, אֵין כּל…. „טײַ“.
נישטאָ קײן צײַט פֿאַר אַ חצות בײַם טײַך.
די באַן פֿאָרט אומהײמלעך איצטיקיסטיש.
אינסטאַגראַם האָט פֿאַרגעסן זײַן ייִדיש.
שױן אַהײמגעפֿאָרן מיטן דינג־ראָװער.
שױן געגלעט מײַן הינטלס קאָנוס־קאָפּ.
שױן אָנגעטאָן מײַן בער־קאָסטיום.
שױן געפֿאָרן צום פּרײַד־לחײם.
שױן געקװעטשט אױפֿן נײַנטן קנעפּל.
שױן איבערגעקערט אַ טעלער מיט נאַשן.
שױן געהערט מעשׂיות פֿון נעכטן בײַ נאַכט.
שױן פּאָזירט אינעם יערלעכן באַלקאָנבילד.
אַלע טראָגן װי תּמיד די סאַמע מאָדישע זאָקן.
אַ פֿרײלעכן פּרײַד. פֿרײלעך צו זײַן פֿרײלעך.
אַראָפּ און אַרױס מיט די אַנדערע פֿײגעלעך.
אַן אַנדער שׂימחה־גרופּע װאַרט שױן אין דרױסן.
איך טאָר נישט קװעטשן דאָס פֿרײלעך־קנעפּל.
איך טאָר נישט נאַשן קײן שװאַמעלע־שאָקאָלאַד.
מיר יאָגן זיך נאָך די אַנטלאָפֿענע פּאַראַד־װאָגנס.
הײַיאָר פּראָקלאַמירט מען כּמו־פּאָליטישע לאָזונגען.
דעות זענען רײצנדיק. די „גוטע גבֿירים“ בלײַבן.
מיר מאַרשירן טאַנצעװדיק, טאַנצן מאַרשירעװדיק.
ס׳איז דער הױפּטשטראָם־פּרײַד, דער באַנאַלער.
נישט דער לעסבישער, נישט דער פּאַלעסטינישער.
מיר פֿאַרלירן אַ חבֿר אַלע פֿינף מינוט.
מיר װאַרטן אױפֿן קלאָזעט־הײַזעלע.
מיר האַלטן זיך אָפּ בײַ נאָלנדאָרף־פּלאַץ.
דאָרט אױבן אַרבעט מײַן צײנדאָקטער!
דאָרט װוּ עס הענגען די נחת־פֿענער!
אַ ביר פֿון אָרגאַנישן סופּערמאַרק.
כּדי אַרײַנצוגײן דאַרף מען זיך אָנטאָן.
איך דאַרף נאָך ענדיקן דאָס „לײַװ“-ליד.
איך דאַרף שפּאַצירן מיטן קאָנוס־קעפּל.
איך דאַרף נאָך שרײַבן עטלעכע רשימות.
קודם־כּל, פֿאַר װאָס נישט אַ שניצל?
די קיך פֿאַרמאַכט זיך צען אַ זײגער.
מיר באַשטעלן אין דער לעצטער מינוט.
מיר עסן דאָס אױסגעפּלאַטשיקטן פֿלײש.
מיר שפּאַצירן אַהײם דורך די געסלעך.
צװײ פֿײגעלעך פֿון אַ גאַנץ יאָר מיט אַ הינטל.
שױן קומען די שטױס־מעלדונגען.
שױן שטײען מיר אױף דער שװעל.
איך דאַרף זיך שױן „מעלדן בשלום“.
איך דאַרף נאָך מעלדן מײַן ראָװער.
איך דאַרף נאָך ענטפֿערן אױף די בריװלעך.
צי בין איך בשלום? װער איז בלשום?
די מלחמה קעגן מלחמות איז אױס.
עס בלײַבן אונדז בלױז מײנונגען.
יעדער אײנער האָט זײַן אָפּרוף.
יעדער אײנער האָט זײַנע דעות.
יעדער אײנער האָט קלוגע פּירושים.
װער זשע װיל זײַן אין די נײַעס?
בערלין קײן װײַמאַר קײן בערלין, 26-25 יולי
The post A poet’s reaction to this summer’s terrorist attack in Berlin appeared first on The Forward.
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These Bundist pioneers were heroes in their time. Would they be in ours?
Academic stars in high school, Abrasha Blum and Luba Bielecka shared a slow burn romance and fervor for radical change. That hardly set them apart amid the ferment after the tsarist empire crumbled in 1919. No one would have predicted that Bielecka would go on to be awarded global nursing’s highest honor and Blum Poland’s equivalent of the Congressional Medal of Honor.
But their story poses a provocation in today’s hyper-polarized politics: Blum and Bielecka were devoted Bundists, and as such, they were not only socialists but anti-Zionists.
That combination can get you labeled today as anti-Israel and antisemitic, and even anti-American. Yet at the time they were Jewish heroes.
Bielecka repeatedly risked her life smuggling children out the Warsaw ghetto under Nazi occupation while directing the sole Jewish nursing school, sustaining its rigorous professional standards even as it was squashed into oblivion. Blum, a physically frail man, was dubbed the “ideological father of armed resistance” in the Bund; he led his band of militants into joining forces with the detested Zionists in the historic Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. When the insurgency was crushed — as all the combatants knew it would be — Blum, an engineer by training, led the surviving remnant through the cavernous sewer system to safety. But soon thereafter, in fleeing the police, he plummeted three stories from an apartment building. Badly injured, he was taken to Gestapo headquarters and never seen again.
Blum and Bielecka engaged the world as they found it and fought for justice for Jews and humanity. Blum’s photo is on display at Yad Vashem, Jerusalem’s Holocaust museum.
A lot has changed in 85 years. In 1939, most Americans Jews opposed Zionism and feared it would be misused by antisemites to justify allegations of dual loyalty. At the time, twice as many Jews lived in Warsaw as in all of British Palestine. The Bund swept 17 of 20 Jewish-designated seats on city council (Blum held one of them), far outdistancing all the Zionists parties together. Socialism made sense to Jewish voters, who were overwhelmingly “blue collar.” And so did doikayt (“hereness”), the doctrine that Poland’s three million Jews belonged there, not in a far-off desert, as the Zionists maintained.
The Holocaust radically and irrevocably changed the landscape. Ninety percent of Polish Jewry was exterminated. Even after the Nazis were vanquished, Jews continued to endure pogroms and were largely purged from Poland’s ruling communist party. By then, Israel was the sole destination in the world that welcomed large numbers of Jews.
Blum and Bielecka’s daughter, 17-year-old Aviva (née Victoria), was among the pioneers who migrated to a kibbutz in the new State of Israel. Zionism offered her the promise of milk and honey in a sanctuary free of antisemitism.
For years, her younger brother, Olek, held fast to his parents’ politics. But he too ultimately exited Poland, not for Israel but for the US, saddened that his father’s dream of “a prosperous Jewish minority inside Poland was impossible to realize.”
Like their parents, Aviva and Olek too engaged the post-WWII world as they found it and sought a better world.
Today, socialism and anti-Zionism are each experiencing something of a revival in the U.S. Self-described socialists have won mayoral elections in New York, Seattle and Washington, D.C. DSA-supported candidates won the Senate Democratic primary in Florida and narrowly lost Wisconsin’s gubernatorial primary. A recent CBS News poll found that 58% of Democrats now hold a favorable view of socialism, whereas only 32% view capitalism positively. The gap is even wider among young people. Jews, despite their relative affluence, remain among the most liberal voters in the U.S., although their current views on socialism have not been scientifically surveyed.
Anti-Zionism looks quite different in 2026 than in 1939, at least to Jews. Israel, approaching its 80th anniversary, is far from the desert mirage ridiculed by pre-war Bundists. While only a minority of American Jews self-describe as Zionists, an overwhelming majority support Israel as a Jewish and democratic state. Yet they are deeply troubled by Israel’s direction: Polls show that Zohran Mamdani, a socialist and anti-Zionist, is more popular among American Jews than Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
We’re left with this thought experiment: What if Abrasha and Luba resided in America today? What would they view as justice and how would they engage to achieve it? What if they resided in Israel?
And finally, a question about the rest of us: Would we recognize them as heroes?
The post These Bundist pioneers were heroes in their time. Would they be in ours? appeared first on The Forward.
