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Simchat Torah in Hostages Square lays bare divide over just how much to celebrate yet
(JTA) — Rabba Anat Sharbat, the unofficial “rabbi of Hostages Square,” wept as she recited the Shehechiyanu blessing after lighting the candles to mark the beginning of Simchat Torah holiday on Monday evening, hours after all 20 living hostages returned to Israel.
Two years before, the same holiday had been marked by silence and fear after the Hamas-led massacre in southern Israel ended celebrations across the country.
Before the plaza even became known as Hostages Square, Sharbat had established what became a ritual — Kabbalat Shabbat services and Havdalah every week, in her words, “out of a deep belief that there needed to be a space here for prayer,” not only for protest.
Faith, she said, had played a role in the hostages’ return.
“The prayers in the square were an integral part of the effort to return them,” Sharbat said. “We heard from hostages who came back that they heard and felt the prayers, and that it gave them strength.”
Last Simchat Torah, she faced uncertainty about whether to hold prayers at all. There was barely a minyan — the quorum of 10 needed for Jewish prayer — and dancing felt impossible. Still, she insisted on continuing “out of a deep belief in the need to maintain hope, together with the families, that their loved ones will return home.” That conviction was validated when Dvora Leshem, the nonagenarian grandmother of the hostage Romi Gonen, approached the small group that night and said she was glad the prayers were taking place. Romi Gonen would be released about three months later.
On this year’s Hebrew anniversary, a very different scene unfolded in the square. As evening fell, a few dozen men and women gathered for prayers followed by hakafot, the traditional Simchat Torah dances encircling the Torah scrolls. The crowd of dancers quickly swelled to more than 200, while onlookers filmed and applauded from the sidelines. Among them was a woman in a Bring Them Home T-shirt who recalled that less than two weeks before Oct. 7, the sight of public, gender-separated prayer during Yom Kippur services had filled her with “extreme anguish.”
“But today, let them dance,” she said. “We are all dancing, finally.”
But the joy was marred by the knowledge that not all the deceased hostages had returned. For some, that reality was impossible to reconcile with the scenes of jubilation. One man, wearing a T-shirt that read in Hebrew, English, and Arabic “We are all created equal,” shouted at the dancers while filming on his phone. “These religious zealots can’t just stand respectfully, they have to dance like animals,” he said.
By Wednesday morning, eight bodies had been brought to Israel for burial. Seven were identified as hostages, while the eighth did not match any of the 28 confirmed dead. Two more, both Israelis, were returned on Wednesday.
The tension carried into Tuesday night, when tens of thousands filled Hostages Square again for a second round of Torah dancing traditionally held after the holiday. The seven dances alternated between grief and gratitude, each dedicated to a different group, including the fallen hostages still in Gaza, those who had returned, reservists, and their families.
Tel Aviv Deputy Mayor Chaim Goren said the event, organized annually by the municipality with Ma’ale Eliyahu Yeshiva and other national-religious groups, was originally meant to take place at a nearby plaza. “It felt detached to hold it there,” he said. The Hostages and Missing Families Forum agreed to move it to the square, though the decision wasn’t final until the last minute.
“There was back-and-forth until the holiday started about whether and how to do it,” Goren said. “With all the joy, there’s still a kvetch in the heart” — using the Yiddish word for ache — “but there’s also a deep need to give thanks to God for what we’ve witnessed.”
For Tel Aviv resident Sapir Barak, the night offered a release she hadn’t allowed herself since Oct. 7, 2023.
“When they announced the release yesterday, I basically had a nervous breakdown,” she said. “I was crying so much. There are so many emotions. It’s like a dream come true, but you don’t know what to do with it.”
Nearby, Henri Rosenberg cut an unusual figure in Hasidic garb with a fur shtreimel and a “Bring Them Home” dog tag around his neck, standing beside his grandson who wore a red MAGA baseball cap. But despite appearances, Rosenberg said he no longer identified as haredi Orthodox, having grown disillusioned by what he called indifference within some haredi circles to the pain felt by other Israelis during the war. Health problems had led him to attend a nearby national-religious synagogue over the High Holidays, where, he recalled, “the cantor wept for the hostages and the soldiers.”
“They are our flesh and blood, and that’s why I’m here tonight,” he said.
From the stage, Genia Erlich Zohar, aunt of American-Israeli hostage Omer Neutra — whose body remains in Gaza and who would have turned 24 on Tuesday — called on the crowd to respect the duality of the moment.
“We hold both joy for those who came home and hope and pain for those who haven’t,” she said. “We are one people, one heart.”
Miri Polachek, a friend of the Neutra family who has volunteered with relatives of the hostages, said she came to the event to support the Neutras and the other families. Recalling her own son’s playdates with Omer when they were children, she said, “It’s a never-ending reminder that it could have been any of our children.”
Among those on stage was Elkana Levy, a Golani Brigade officer who lost both legs in an explosion in Khan Younis. One of three brothers wounded in the Gaza war, he led a silent hakafa from his wheelchair and vowed that those “fighting day and night for the return of our brothers … would never break.”
At the edge of the square, a few dozen demonstrators held posters of those still in Gaza, chanting “Everyone, now!” — the familiar rallying cry for the hostages’ return.
Hagit Chen, holding “Gucci,” the small white dog that had belonged to her son, slain hostage and dual American-Israeli citizen Itay Chen, whose body has not yet been returned, called Monday’s release “a huge miracle,” even as she admitted her faith had been shaken.
“I was convinced Itay would be returning home yesterday with the others,” she said. Still, she added, the elation around her was not an affront. “I don’t look at joy that way. I embrace what’s happening here. We all need the strength it gives us.”
“But we cannot take our foot off the gas,” she said. “The deal is not a good one for the fallen hostages.” She pointed to what she described as the vague language of the Trump.-brokered agreement, which requires Hamas to make “all necessary efforts” to secure their release. “If we don’t see their return, it will be an open wound for all of us.”
Dani Miran, whose son Omri was among those freed on Monday, said Israel should halt the next stage of the deal until every hostage is accounted for.
“We should have resumed fighting at 1 p.m. yesterday, the moment we understood the 28 bodies weren’t coming home,” he said at Tel Aviv Sourasky Medical Center, where his son is receiving treatment. “[Hamas] will not understand anything else.”
Miran said he would remain in Tel Aviv, where he has lived since his son’s abduction, until the last hostage returns. He declined to say whether he would shave his long white beard, a vow he made to keep until Omri came home.
Activist and artist Hila Galilee, posed with Miran’s longtime partner, Galia Korel, while holding a mock yellow Torah scroll with images of the hostages. “The entire Torah is the hostages,” she said.
The question of what to do with the hostages’ symbols no longer has a single answer. Romi Gonen was filmed with friends tearing off the tape marking the number of days the hostages have been held, cheering as they did. Rachel Goldberg-Polin, who began the tape tradition for her son, slain hostage Hersh, said on Wednesday that she would continue to wear hers.
Hagit and her husband, Ruby Chen, criticized Knesset Speaker Amir Ohana for removing his hostage pin during President Trump’s visit to the Knesset. “It isn’t over,” Chen addressed Ohana in a video posted to social media. “Put the pin back on until the last hostage is back.”
After Trump announced that the living hostages would be returning home, Miran urged Tel Aviv mayor Ron Huldai to rename the site Returnees’ Square. But Hagit Chen said in an interview on Tuesday night that the name Hostages Square should remain until all are home.
In the square, posters of freed hostages have been taken down, some replaced by new banners, including one with Trump’s words, “Now is the time for peace.” Other features remain unchanged, including the mock tunnel evoking the underground passages where many hostages were held in Gaza and the digital clock counting the days and seconds since the attacks.
Miran, who had walked the one block from the hospital to the square, led the crowd in a psalm of thanksgiving. “Secular, religious — I hate these distinctions. All I see from up here is Jews,” he said from the stage. “Let’s stay like this. The nation of Israel lives.”
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On El-Sayed, Michigan’s Jewish Democrats aren’t all ready to unite behind nominee
Following Abdul El-Sayed’s narrow win of the Democratic nomination for Michigan’s open Senate seat, the state’s Jewish Democrats are reflecting on whether the divisions El-Sayed’s candidacy brought to the fore can be bridged before November.
Jewish voters make up just 1.4% of the electorate in Michigan. But the community had become deeply invested in the race, with Jews both in fierce opposition and fiery support of El-Sayed in an election that had become a proxy fight over the Gaza war and the U.S.-Israel relationship.
Jewish former Michigan congressman Andy Levin, who had endorsed El-Sayed, believes Democrats will get behind the nominee in the interest of defeating Republican Mike Rogers — a race that could determine which party controls the Senate. Pre-primary polls found Rogers leading El-Sayed by single digits.
“Shame on any Jewish Democrat if they’re going to go vote for Mike Rogers and put our democracy at risk because they can’t find their way to supporting Abdul El-Sayed, who is such a brilliant person, just because he doesn’t share their exact beliefs on Israel and Palestine,” Levin told the Forward. “That’s ridiculous.”
Levin lost his Senate seat to Rep. Haley Stevens after heavy spending against him by AIPAC, the campaign fundraising group advocating for unrestricted U.S. aid to Israel. An AIPAC-associated super PAC spent some $32 million in a failed attempt to get Stevens the Senate nomination.
Stevens endorsed El-Sayed for the general election Wednesday morning. But some Jews who voted for Stevens see no possibility for reconciliation. Rabbi Asher Lopatin of the modern Orthodox synagogue Kehillat Etz Chayim in suburban Detroit had endorsed Stevens in the primary, alarmed by El-Sayed’s association with the controversial Twitch streamer Hasan Piker and condemnation of Israel as a genocidal and apartheid state.
In a TV interview Wednesday, El-Sayed used the term “bloodthirsty” to describe Israel.
“To have so many people vote for someone who is so hurtful to the Jewish community, the things that the Jewish community values — I think it’s depressing,” Lopatin told the Forward.
Lopatin has made up his mind that he will not vote for El-Sayed in the general election, but he also isn’t yet sold on Rogers, the Republican nominee.
“I have to study him more,” Lopatin said. “But I will not vote for Abdul El-Sayed, definitely, and I would tell people they should not.”
Lopatin said he wishes Stevens would condemn El-Sayed rather than endorse him.
Still, others see El-Sayed as the best candidate to face Rogers in the general — and don’t want him to pull back on the issues that won him the nomination. Barbara Weinberg Barefield, a photographer outside Detroit who helped organize the group Jews for Abdul, said she has confidence El-Sayed will win the general — attributing the close primary race partly to the influence of outside money supporting Stevens.
“He was able to win this election in the face of close to $70 million of outside funding going to bolster his opponent,” Weinberg Barefield said. “This election is showing us, and elections around the country are showing us, that elections are not to be bought — they’re to be earned.”
Roslyn Schindler, a retired professor who taught Holocaust studies at Wayne State University, was also among El-Sayed’s Jewish supporters, even as she disagreed with him on his lack of support for a two-state solution. She stressed the importance of beating Rogers in November irrespective of disagreements on Israel.
“My motto is and will be: vote blue, no matter who,” Schindler told the Forward. “I am hoping that all Democrats realize that to do otherwise will be self-destructive and just plain wrong.”
Others are taking a wait-and-see approach. Decky Alexander, chair of the Michigan Democratic Jewish Caucus — which endorsed Stevens in the primary — isn’t issuing an endorsement in the general election yet.
She said the close margin El-Sayed won by, about 15,000 votes, gives her hope that El-Sayed will see the need to unify his party. A start, she said, would be focusing less on AIPAC during his general election campaign.
“There’s a lot of opportunity on Abdul’s side to be a better bridge maker versus kind of a bridge burner,” Alexander told the Forward. “The cards are his. It’s his responsibility to initiate.”
In his election night speech, El-Sayed didn’t mention AIPAC by name, instead speaking more generally about getting money out of politics.
On Wednesday, he addressed Jewish Michiganders directly: “I want you to know that my commitment to your safety, my commitment to Jewish safety, is the same commitment that I have to the safety of my own daughters.”
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‘The Yiddish Teacher’ (Poem)
One thing about the late Forverts staff writer and critic Miriam Hoffman — she cooked a heavenly eggplant in tomato sauce.
And why do I know this about one of our writers? Hoffman, a veritable lexicon-caldron of Yiddish sayings and terms she’d archived from her own mother’s distinct poylish dialect, was many things: A distinguished long-term professor of Yiddish at Columbia University; a theater critic turned playwright who turned the New York Public Theatre’s founding director Joseph Papp into a serious supporter of Yiddish culture; a child survivor of Siberian exile, and so much more.
As she encountered immigrant American life in da Bronx, the tiny dynamo that was Hoffman delighted in becoming American, freely advising everyone on the best consumer goods this country had to offer. A country that was a home and refuge to her, her parents, her husband and so many in her vast circle of Yiddishist friends, students, fellow writers, educators and chosen family. And then, once upon a time, she welcomed me into her Florida home for an overnight stay, so that I could record her jaw-dropping tales of how she and her beloved mameloshn Yiddish both survived the khurbn, the Holocaust. And talk into the video camera she did.
But first, there was lunch.
Rest in all your ferocious deliciousness, Miriam Hoffman, and thank you. For the eggplant, the advice on the best toothpaste, the stories — and for doing everything, everything, everything possible, to transmit your Yiddish to another generation.
The Yiddish Teacher
The Yiddish teacher bending saying:
In my book you’ll learn
the alefbeys through pictograms like so:
The gimel is a camel
The beys a house
You see?
The Yiddish teacher has an archive
in her bedroom closet
The folding doors open revealing:
shoeboxes filled with
stories and
poems and
songs she
wrote as a child
in the displaced persons camp
on paper donated to Jewish refugees
The Yiddish teacher was once
seated in back
of a transport truck
with all the other refugees
Trying to go over the Swiss Alps
to Mandate Palestine
The Yiddish teacher was born
in a Siberian prison camp
“people were starving, sure,
but there was sex”
The Yiddish teacher was the only
woman writer on staff
at the Forverts Yiddish newspaper
The Yiddish teacher remembers
the first time her family ate
Chef-Boy-Ar-Dee spaghetti and
meatballs
from a can
in the Bronx
We go shopping together
The Yiddish teacher loves Rao’s tomato sauce
“it’s the best”
The Yiddish teacher recommends
“Mavis Toothpaste”
It’s the best
The Yiddish teacher loves to
go fly fishing
The Yiddish teacher is short and slim
and round
I think
if I cup my hands together
I can
carry her around always
— Chana Pollack
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Christopher Nolan’s ‘Odyssey’ is a Talmud-quoting, Tisha B’Av epic
“Before there were Jews… there was ‘The Odyssey,’” a theater manager infamously posted on a marquee in Portland, Oregon.
While the mythic, Bronze Age events recounted in the blockbuster film likely never transpired, Homer’s epic poem is by any measure younger than the Jewish people. And Christopher Nolan’s Odyssey, now a proxy for a pitched battle over the essence of Western civilization, could not exist as it is without the Jews. Indeed, whether it knows it or not, it is telling a foundational story of our history.
Much of the criticism surrounding the film, which managed to agitate classicists from its first set photos of Matt Damon in a crested Grecian helmet (not a period-accurate Mycenaean boar-tusk ensemble) and bigots of all stripes with its casting of a trans man and people of color, has shifted since its release just before Tisha B’Av, taking aim at the film’s ideas and how they may clash with those of antiquity’s.
“Did you Christianize The Odyssey?” podcaster Zhong Shu asked Nolan in a now-viral interview.
Nolan explained that he was drawn to the ancient ethic of “xenia,” called “Zeus’ Law” in the film. In the Greek conception, this means welcoming guests because you never know if they may be a God. In Nolan’s blockbuster it’s described as treating others how you would be treated. When the law is breached, society as we know it comes undone, leading to our hero’s atonement and qualms that seem at odds with his traditional characterization.
While Nolan’s understanding mirrors the Christian Golden Rule, which itself is antedated by statements in the Torah and by Hillel, his vision of civilizational ruin when it is trespassed is more central to Judaism. Odysseus laments that, by creating the Trojan horse, and exploiting the code of hospitality to launch a massacre, he has broken something.
“To burn the walls of Troy is to burn the world entire,” Damon’s Odysseus tells Anne Hathaway’s Penelope. This is more or less a paraphrase from Talmudic wisdom: “To destroy one life is to destroy the world entire,” and its more recognizable corollary, “to save one life is to save the world entire.”
The Hebrew Bible is rife with examples of hospitality in extremis. In Sodom, Lot offers his daughters to a mob of rapists rather than have them violate his heavenly guests. The result: a destroyed city and a wife reduced to a table condiment. (Just before, Abraham fed these visitors, plus another angel of God.)
But watching the film Tuesday, I was reminded of another story. Remember when I mentioned Tisha B’Av, the holiday marking the destruction of Judaism’s ancient capital?
Our tradition teaches that the second temple fell because a man holding a banquet in Jerusalem kicked out his enemy, a fellow by the name of Bar Kamtza. Humiliated by his host, Bar Kamtza plots his revenge. He goes to Caesar and tells him the Jews are conspiring against his rule. To prove it, Bar Kamtza, like the wily Odysseus, concocts a ruse, suggesting the Romans send a sacrifice to the rabbis and see if they offer it.
They don’t, as Bar Kamtza blemishes the animal, making it unfit for offering.
In The Odyssey, the famous gift horse is presented as a tribute to Athena. Its blemish is the fighting force it hides inside, ready to sack the city.
The upshot of the rejected temple sacrifice was the razing of Jerusalem at the hands of the Romans. The temple is desecrated, in much the way the temple of Athena is in the film.
Christian theology doesn’t argue quite so forcefully that the violation of the Golden Rule augurs a civilizational collapse. Quite the contrary today, where xenophobia and whispers of Great Replacement — akin to the trade-wind rumors of sea peoples in Nolan’s film — have taken root in the Evangelical right. (Ezra Klein, and really anyone attuned to commentary as subtle as IMAX subwoofers, picked up on this tension.)
Jewish history tells us we fare poorly in places where the stranger isn’t welcome.
In a departure from the text, Nolan ends Odysseus’ wandering with his voluntary exile. He sails west, predicting a benighted age to come, where his exploits will be sung as men lose the ability to write.
Our story ends on a similarly bleak, yet hopeful note.
When Jerusalem fell, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai devised his own deception, sneaking past the city walls in a casket (before he was let out, zealots wanted to stab the bier, recalling the Trojans’ stabbing of the horse).
But before Yohanan can make his escape he’s intercepted by the general Vespasian, who he mistakenly refers to as the emperor. Vespasian offers a correction, but almost instantly a messenger confirms this designation, telling him Caesar died and named him his successor. Regarding Yohanan’s mistake as prophecy, he offers him a request.
Jerusalem had fallen, self-determination was unrealistic, and so Yohannan asks for the city of Yavneh and its sages. From there our modern history began, literacy thrived and a dark age was subdued.
The Temple and Troy have yet to be rebuilt, but their legends live on.
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