Uncategorized
South African Jewish journalist Jeremy Gordin murdered in home burglary at 70
(JTA) — Jeremy Gordin, one of South Africa’s most prominent journalists, wrote repeatedly in recent months about burglaries at his family’s Johannesburg home.
In a weekly column, he expressed dismay at the rampant levels of crime, growing urban decay and regular power outages endured by South Africans as a result of mismanagement and corruption. In one — titled “It is getting dark, too dark to see” after the Bob Dylan lyric — he addressed his two children, both in their twenties.
“I’m not suggesting that you’re going to find yourselves in desperate flight across your own border, that your graveyard may be ploughed up and strewn with garbage. But there comes a time when things are clearly falling apart,” he concluded.
He added, with the allusion to his Jewish identity clear to anyone familiar with Jewish history, “And you, who have your whole lives before you (as they say), need to consider seriously going to live elsewhere. We’ve been doing it for centuries, after all.”
On March 31, Gordin’s worst fears came to pass: He was murdered during a night robbery at his home. He was 70.
South African police described the incident as “a robbery gone wrong” but did not describe the exact cause of death. Seven people were arrested in Johannesburg two weeks later; one was driving a car that had been stolen from Gordin’s residence.
It was a tragic end for Gordin’s 70-year South African story, which, as with so many of his country’s Jews, intersected sharply with both the story of Israel and with the struggle of Black South Africans. As a lifelong journalist, he had at times headed both South Africa’s version of Playboy and its storied working-class Black tabloid, and also ran an initiative that used reporting to prove the innocence of people who were wrongfully imprisoned. He won the country’s annual top journalism prize multiple times.
Gordin was also a friend to many, frequently opening his home in Johannesburg’s Parkview neighborhood to guests. (This reporter was one of them during a stint in Johannesburg for Efe, the Spanish newspaper.)
Gordin was born in Pretoria in 1952, in a Jewish family with Lithuanian and Latvian origins. After a spell in South Vietnam, where his pharmacist father worked for the United States, the family returned to South Africa. Gordin went to high school in Brakpan, a town in the industrial east of the Great Johannesburg emblematic of the country’s white Afrikaner working class to which he often referred in his articles.
Gordin obtained a scholarship to study in Israel and completed a bachelor’s degree while playing rugby at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Back in his country, he did his military service volunteering for the South African Defence Force’s elite 1 Parachute Battalion, then started a prolific career in journalism.
In a breakout moment, he published a book in 1998 based on his conversations with the apartheid government’s death squad leader Eugen de Kock. Then incarcerated, de Kock candidly told Gordin about his deeds, but most importantly about those who had ordered his crimes, for which they were hardly questioned and never tried.
Gordin authored another canonical book of recent South Africa history, his biography of South Africa’s former president Jacob Zuma. Published in 2010, a year after Zuma took power, Gordin’s went beyond the usual assumptions about the Zulu former freedom fighter who learned how to read and write as an adult and was often underestimated by South Africa’s intellectual class.
Zuma left office in 2018 after a tenure marked by charges of corruption, cronyism and incompetence. Gordin’s biography has been criticized for being excessively indulgent with its subject, but it remains essential for understanding Zuma’s psychology and the motivations behind his actions.
In the early 1990s, after a period living in San Francisco, Gordin became the launch editor of Playboy South Africa. (He posed nude, with only a magazine as cover, to promote Playboy’s South Africa launch.) In a recent essay, Gordin recounted trying to land a then-unknown Charlize Theron for the magazine’s first cover. Invoking Yiddish terms, Gordin recalled journalists who had passed away, described the actress’s unembarrassed audition, and also managed to explore changing race and class dynamics in South Africa.
(Around this time, his friend Roy Isacowitz wrote in a remembrance published shortly after his death, the pair had successfully gotten a media executive censured for calling them “pushy little Jewboys” — though he said they accepted the description.)
Jeremy Gordin, at right, stands in front of covers of the Sun, the South African tabloid he oversaw for many years. (Courtesy Gordin family)
In 2012 he was named caretaker editor of the Daily Sun, a South African tabloid wildly popular among the Black working class. The paper lost much of its appeal after the death of its founder, larger-than-life Afrikaner media executive Deon du Plessis. Gordin brought back the pride, the punch and many of the readers to the paper. Or, as a headline made for him by his colleagues when he retired said, he “brought rock’n roll back to the Sun.”
The tabloid’s news largely relied on cases of violence, gossip and sex often featuring “tokoloshes,” fantastic creatures of popular African mythology whose encounters with the Sun’s readers were reported nationwide in the first person to its many correspondents. The readership and the paper’s foot soldiers were 100% Black. They collected the stories and sent them to the Johannesburg newsroom, where a group of experienced white male journalists including Gordin translated their texts in the characteristic Daily Sun language.
Gordin’s world couldn’t be further away from the one his newspaper reflected. But as his colleague at the paper Vincent Pienaar wrote after his death, “Not only did he understand the ethos of the publication, he embraced it.”
The tabloid took on serious stories, too. During his tenure as the paper’s editor the Daily Sun broke the story of the death at the hands of police officers of Mozambican immigrant taxi driver Mido Macias. A reader had filmed his gratuitously brutal arrest and sent it to the newspaper. Eight police officers involved in the victim’s death in custody were ultimately sentenced to 15 years in prison.
After leaving the Daily Sun, Gordin took on a role coordinating the Wits Justice Project, a journalism program focused on the plight of innocent or unfairly treated prisoners. In 2011 he helped secure the release of Fusi Mofokeng and Tshokolo Joseph Mokoena, who had served 19 years in prison for a crime they didn’t commit.
Gordin’s many friends say that his sympathy for the underdog was inextricable from the Jewish traditions and attitudes he inherited.
Although not religiously observant, Gordin peppered his articles with Jewish stories and jokes and Yiddish words and expressions. His sense of humor was strongly influenced by his Jewishness, as it was the combination of principle and humorous compassion that defined his personality. He was extremely well-read and voraciously curious, loved to share what he discovered with friends and indulged in sassy but harmless gossip both in private and in his articles.
Sometimes, his Jewish identity and his journalism entwined as when, in 2016, he reported from Johannesburg about the extradition hearing of a Hasidic rabbi, Eliezer Berland, wanted in Israel on rape charges. His final column, published the day before his death, explained, and condemned, the proposed right-wing judicial reforms in Israel.
Rabbi Sa’ar Shaked of the Beit Emanuel Progressive Synagogue in Johannesburg said Gordin as a friend and “wild spirit” who didd’t regularly attend services but was a repeat guest speaker at the synagogue to discuss weekly Torah portions and a variety of aspects of Jewish history and law.
Despite not attending services regularly, Gordin’s role in the community is described as “very active” by Wendy Ovens, a South African health professional in the NGO sector who served with him on the management committee of Beit Emanuel in 2011.
“His knowledge on Judaism and Jewish history was incredible,” Ovens said. She said his Jewish identity fueled his core mission: “He was community-minded and believed in justice and in what was right.”
Gordin is survived by his wife, Deborah Blake, and his children, Jake and Nina.
—
The post South African Jewish journalist Jeremy Gordin murdered in home burglary at 70 appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
New Cooking Show Competition ‘The Great Bubby Cook-Off’ Celebrates Jewish Food, Family Recipes
The four contestants on “The Great Bubby Cook-Off.” Photo: Manischewitz
An original cooking show competition that celebrates Jewish home cooking and family recipes premiered Friday on Kosher.com.
The four finalists on “The Great Bubby Cook-Off,” presented by the famous Jewish food brand Manischewitz, include a “bubby” from Delray Beach, Florida, and another from Manhattan, New York, and two contestants from Flushing, New York, and West Hartford, Connecticut, who were competing with “bubby-inspired recipes.”
The contestants were selected to compete on the show following a nationwide casting call. Home cooks submitted videos of themselves preparing their favorite Jewish dishes, including family recipes passed down through generations and personal twists on classic dishes. After online voting that was open to the public, four finalists were chosen to advance to a live cook-off in New York City in November.
The winner, to be revealed exclusively on the show, will be crowned “Bubby 2025” and receive a $5,000 cash prize, a featured appearance on the Manischewitz Food Truck as it tours the New York City area, and other prizes. The show is hosted by chef and cookbook author Naomi Nachman.
“‘The Great Bubby Cook-Off’ celebrates exactly what Kosher.com is all about — honoring tradition while inspiring a new generation of home cooks,” said Goldy Guttman, director of Kosher.com, in a released statement. “These bubby recipes carry stories, memories, and culture, and bringing them to life on screen allows us to share the heart of Jewish home cooking with audiences everywhere.”
“‘The Great Bubby Cook-Off’ is about so much more than cooking,” added Shani Seidman, chief marketing officer of Manischewitz. “It’s about honoring the women who shaped our traditions, our tables, and our memories — and celebrating the dishes that bring families together.”
More episodes of “The Great Bubby Cook-Off” will be announced throughout 2026. The show is free to watch, and an additional episode is under consideration that will include a behind-the-scenes look into the competition and judging, according to Manischewitz.
Uncategorized
On Instagram, ‘Rabbinic Fit Check’ is a look book for Jewish clergy
Rabbi Rafi Ellenson was getting ready for a full day of rabbinic duties in September when he jokingly asked a colleague, “What do I wear that’s appropriate both for religious school and a shiva?”
After some light-hearted deliberation, Ellenson, who works as an assistant rabbi for Congregation Shir Hadash, a Reform synagogue in Los Gatos, California, said they realized his wardrobe dilemma might deserve a spotlight on social media.
“We were like, oh, this would be a really fun idea for an Instagram account,” said Ellenson. It would show what rabbis are wearing and “the absurd things they have to do every day, dressing for 20,000 occasions and for 50,000 people.”
For help turning his idea into reality, Ellenson called Rabbi Arielle Stein, an assistant rabbi at Congregation Rodeph Sholom, a Reform synagogue on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, whom he had met in Jerusalem in 2019.
After some deliberation, the pair created Rabbinic Fit Check, an Instagram account billed as “a style diary for the rabbinate and beyond.”
“We’re trying to show diversity of rabbis, diversity of genders, diversity of expression,” said Ellenson. “There’s no one model, and there’s no one model in the real world, so we don’t want to feature only one model on the account.”
So far, Rabbinic Fit Check has featured 57 rabbis, clergy members and students from a range of denominations and garnered over 1,300 followers. The outfits range from cozy sweaters and “sensible” office wear to zebra-print skirts and a fashion-forward Delfina Balda pant suit.
“It’s nice to see that rabbis look like more than just that old oil painting of someone in a black coat,” said Rabbi Allison Poirier of the Conservative synagogue Temple Aliyah in Needham, Massachusetts. “It’s nice to see that we’re out here as new people, as colorful people of all ages and shapes and sizes, which I think in the world I work in, most people know, but it’s just nice to uplift that.”
Indeed, a new national study of the American rabbinate released last month by the Atra Center for Rabbinic Innovation found that 51% of the rabbinical students surveyed identified as LGBTQ+. According to the Atra report, 58% of rabbis surveyed identify as women, 30% as men, and 12% as nonbinary.
But the diversification of the rabbinate has also underscored a broader trend, with rabbis more often taking on an engaged, hands-on role rather than the old model of the “sage on the stage.”
Stein, who had already gone viral for her rabbinic style videos on social media and was featured in Vogue last month for her videos on clergy-friendly shoe choices, said the pair’s Instagram account has also come to serve another purpose: showing the rabbinate in a more intimate light.
“I think especially for our generation of rabbis, we’re real people, these are important ways that people can connect with us and build trust and understanding,” said Stein. “We’re not pretending that we’re somebody at work and somebody at home.”
Rabbinic Fit Check posted its inaugural outfits from Stein and Ellenson in mid-October. The pair then reached out to their colleagues for submissions, and users soon asked to be featured.
Poirier said that she had been drawn to post her style (J. Crew blazer, Birdy Grey dress, her sister’s thrifted sweater) because of the account’s “diversity and also the light-heartedness,” which she said offered a contrast to reality.
“Everything is so, so heavy right now, and a lot of our day is rightly dealing with some of the heaviness, and it’s nice to just have something that also uplifts rabbis as fun, joyful people, kind of expressing ourselves in this cute, silly way,” said Poirier.
“Rabbis are kind of in the zeitgeist in a lot of different ways, and there’s a lot to say about that both positive and negative, and certainly we’re tapping into some of that,” said Ellenson. “But I think we’re approaching an angle of we’re humans who have these cool jobs, and we want to show parts of ourselves through our clothing and express ourselves more fully and completely, and not bifurcate these two segments of our lives.”
Einav Rabinovitch-Fox, a professor at Case Western Reserve University who wrote a history of women’s fashion, said that she viewed the Rabbinic Fit Check account as part of a “new phenomenon” in which the public image of the rabbinate was shifting. She pointed to Nobody Wants This, the Netflix show starring heartthrob Adam Brody as a young Los Angeles rabbi that first aired in September 2024. The Amazon series Transparent, Extrapolations on Apple TV+ and the 2023 film You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah all featured what Hey Alma, JTA’s sister site, called “hot rabbis.”
“It’s kind of like a sign of our times,” said Rabinovitch-Fox. “Not all of them are like Adam Brody, but I think it’s a depiction of a trend, and I think that Instagram account is part of it, like, ‘oh, look, Judaism is cool.’”
Rabbi Jamie Field, the director of education at Beth El Temple Center, a Reform synagogue in Belmont, Massachusetts, was featured on Rabbinic Fit Check shortly before her appearance on the Netflix show Squid Game: The Challenge. She said it was a “really beautiful that there is an increase in rabbinic visibility.”
“We have a really sacred responsibility to show that rabbis are real people, and that we are engaged and part of the world and being responsible for being part of that conversation, not just witnessing it through Netflix shows about rabbis,” said Field.
While Rabinovitch-Fox said religion does not always “celebrate the individual,” she added that “fashion is a really a great and simple way to make your own statement.”
“People want to find somehow to relate, and I think with this Instagram generation, fashion is something that is important to people, so it’s just another way to relate to that,” said Rabinovitch-Fox. “If you can talk with your rabbi about style, you have a cool rabbi.”
Rabbi Andrea London, the leader of Beth Emet The Free Synagogue, a Reform congregation in Evanston, Illinois, said she submitted a photo of herself and Cantor Natalie Young on Parashat Noah after Ellenson, who is a family friend, mentioned it to her in conversation. For her cameo, she wore a white button-down shirt with a gold necklace and slacks.
London, who was ordained in 1996, said that she had submitted the photo to offer the account “a little diversity of age.” She recalled that early in her career, “as a woman, you wouldn’t dare to be on the bimah without a skirt.”
“One of the things that was annoying in the rabbinate was that people would comment on my clothing a lot, and it was just tiresome and men didn’t get that,” said London. “And now, I think Rabbinic Fit Check is trying to turn it on its head, like let’s have fun with it as opposed to seeing this as somehow discriminatory or sexist in any way.”
So far, Ellenson and Stein said the response to the account from their congregants and colleagues had been positive. Looking ahead, Ellenson said they hoped to feature leaders from other faiths.
“I think it’s about joy, showcasing diversity, showcasing the personal, and showcasing that all of these pieces can be a part of cultivating rabbinic and cantorial and clerical work,” said Ellenson. “We can bring ourselves into the work, and that makes the work better when we’re being ourselves with our communities.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post On Instagram, ‘Rabbinic Fit Check’ is a look book for Jewish clergy appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
UNRWA vs. UNHCR: How the UN Created a Permanent Refugee Class
Palestinians pass by the gate of an UNRWA-run school in Nablus in the West Bank. Photo: Reuters/Abed Omar Qusini.
For more than 70 years, the United Nations has administered two refugee systems operating under the same flag but guided by fundamentally different moral compasses. One system exists to end refugeehood. The other exists to preserve it.
The contrast between the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) and United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA) is not a technical footnote in international policy. It is one of the central reasons the Israeli-Palestinian conflict remains frozen in place.
The events of October 7 brutally exposed what many have warned about for decades: UNRWA is no longer a humanitarian agency in any meaningful sense. It is a political instrument that has helped entrench radicalization, prolong suffering, and ultimately enable war.
UNHCR, established in 1950, was designed with a clear mission: provide temporary protection and pursue durable solutions. Its success is measured by how many refugees stop being refugees.
Over the decades, UNHCR has helped tens of millions of people rebuild their lives; Europeans after World War II, Vietnamese people, Balkan refugees, Rwandans, Syrians, Afghans, and most recently Ukrainians. Resettlement, integration, and naturalization are not failures under UNHCR’s framework; they are the goal.
UNRWA, created a year earlier for a single refugee population, operates on the opposite logic. Its mandate does not aim to resolve refugeehood but to maintain it indefinitely.
Palestinians are the only group in the world whose refugee status is automatically inherited, generation after generation, regardless of citizenship, residence, or living conditions.
The numbers tell the story. Roughly 700,000 Arabs were displaced during the 1948 war launched by Arab states against the newly declared State of Israel. Today, UNRWA claims nearly six million Palestinian refugees. Refugee populations are supposed to shrink as lives stabilize. This one grows exponentially. That is not humanitarian failure, it is institutional design.
This design has consequences. When refugeehood becomes an inherited political identity rather than a temporary legal status, grievance replaces hope. Dependency replaces empowerment. Conflict becomes a resource to be managed rather than a tragedy to be ended.
UNRWA’s budget, influence, and relevance depend on the persistence of the conflict. Peace would render it obsolete. Integration would reduce its scope. Resolution would end its mandate.
Nowhere is this more evident than in education. UNRWA operates hundreds of schools, shaping the worldview of generations of Palestinian children. Education should be a bridge to coexistence.
Instead, repeated investigations and reports have documented curricula that erase Israel from maps, glorify “martyrdom,” deny Jewish historical ties to the land, and frame violence as both justified and inevitable. Antisemitic tropes and conspiracy theories have surfaced again and again. This is not accidental oversight. It is tolerated, minimized, and excused as “context.”
The moral collapse of this system was laid bare after October 7. In the aftermath of Hamas’ massacre of Israeli civilians, evidence emerged that UNRWA employees were directly involved in the attack. Others were found to have celebrated the killings. Weapons were discovered in or near UNRWA facilities. Terror tunnels were uncovered beneath UNRWA schools. Hostages were reportedly hidden or moved through civilian areas linked to UNRWA infrastructure. This was not infiltration from the outside. It was contamination from within.
If UNHCR staff had participated in mass murder or aided a terrorist organization, the agency would have been dismantled immediately. Yet UNRWA survived on explanations, damage control, and the insistence that the problem lay with a few individuals rather than a compromised system. That argument no longer holds.
The tragedy is that Palestinians themselves have paid the highest price for this failure. UNRWA did not prepare Gazans for self-governance or peace. Hamas prepared Palestinians for war, and UNRWA looked away.
October 7 was not an aberration. It was the inevitable result of a system that monetized suffering and normalized extremism for decades.
The solution is not complicated, but it requires moral clarity. Palestinians deserve the same humanitarian standards applied to every other refugee population on earth. That means ending UNRWA’s exceptional status and transferring responsibility to UNHCR. It means redefining refugeehood as a temporary condition, not a hereditary identity. It means de-radicalizing education, dismantling terror infrastructure, and replacing grievance with opportunity.
One world cannot operate two refugee systems and still claim moral credibility. One system resolves crises. The other perpetuates them.
If the international community truly cares about peace, dignity, and human rights, both Israeli and Palestinian, it must finally acknowledge that UNRWA is part of the problem, not the solution.
Sabine Sterk is CEO of the foundation, “Time To Stand Up For Israel.”