Uncategorized
The most Jewish room in Fremont, Ohio, is in a county history museum
Beneath a mahogany staircase inside the Sandusky County Historical Society hangs a memorial plaque in a place both fitting and strange.
The sanctuary is gone. The Torah scrolls have long since been moved elsewhere. Military exhibits and county memorabilia fill the rooms. But the plaque remains, listing the dead of Temple Beth Israel, a congregation that closed more than four decades ago.
Across Ohio, when small-town synagogues closed, their history did not vanish all at once. Instead, it was scattered to neighboring congregations, local museums, regional archives and descendants who saved whatever they could. A siddur. A stained-glass window. A Star of David rescued before a building was demolished.
The story of Beth Israel’s plaque almost ended when someone proposed melting it down.
“That couldn’t be discarded,” said Dennis Newman, who grew up at the synagogue.
So he and his nephew drove to Sandusky, Ohio, to retrieve it from another closing congregation.
“It was really heavy,” he said.
Now it is back in Fremont, in the same building where Jewish families once gathered for Shabbat, Hebrew lessons, and holiday services, though most visitors do not know that when they walk in.
The building on Birchard Avenue still stands, a red-brick house set slightly back from the street. Inside, rooms that once held a wedding, Sunday school classes, and other scenes from synagogue life now house exhibits on Sandusky County’s past, including industrial history and local life. A Civil War battle flag serves as one centerpiece. The Jewish past is there too, a small exhibit Newman helped to create.
“Most people are surprised,” said Roy Wilhelm, a local volunteer with the historical society.
A congregation’s afterlife
Fremont is not unique. Throughout Ohio and the Midwest, other small-town congregations have closed, raising the same question: what becomes of the objects, records and stories they leave behind?
Toby Brief, executive director of the Columbus Jewish Historical Society, said her organization has increasingly become a repository for that afterlife. “The definition of Central Ohio has grown,” she said. In practice, she added, the society often functions as “much more of a regional archive between Cleveland and Cincinnati.”
That work, she said, is active rather than passive. “We find materials, we identify them.” Sometimes that means typed oral histories or photographs. Sometimes it means relationships with local historical societies. Sometimes it means preserving just one object from a vanished Jewish community. “We are always telling others not to forget to collect the artifacts,” Brief said.
One of those objects came from New Philadelphia, Ohio.
Like Beth Israel, the Tuscarawas County Jewish Center emerged in the 1930s, part of the same era when many small-town Jewish communities across Ohio were growing. The center was dedicated in 1937, two years after Beth Israel first gathered above a clothing store in Fremont. From its earliest days, the center also reached beyond its own members. At the dedication, the Rev. Frank Cody of First Presbyterian Church spoke. In 1938, when Joseph Wagner was installed as the center’s first rabbi, banquet guests included New Philadelphia’s mayor, Arthur Williams, along with the town’s chief of police and two Christian ministers.
But the ending in New Philadelphia was different. By 1967, the Jewish center had become inactive. The following year, the building was sold and razed to create a parking lot for employees of the local newspaper.
Almost nothing physical survived — just a Star of David rescued by a congregant before the building came down. Today it is preserved by the Columbus Jewish Historical Society.
“It is so simple,” Brief said. But “that star represents a synagogue, a Jewish center, it represents families.”
A home of their own
In Fremont, more remained. One artifact is the memorial plaque. But the building itself is an artifact, too.
For decades, Beth Israel sustained Jewish life in a town where Jews were always a small minority. At its peak in the late 1940s and 1950s, Fremont’s Jewish community numbered about 50 families. It was never large, but it had the elements of a full communal life: weekly services, a Sunday school, a Sisterhood, student rabbis traveling in from Cincinnati and New York, and ties to nearby towns like Tiffin, Fostoria, and Norwalk.
Before the congregation had a permanent home, it gathered in the mid-1930s in a rented room above a store on Front Street. On the day of its 1935 dedication, about 300 people crowded into the upstairs space. They sang “The Star-Spangled Banner” and “Hatikvah,” and the women of the newly formed auxiliary served a buffet luncheon.
A few years later, in 1942, the congregation purchased a former residence on Birchard Avenue and dedicated it as Temple Beth Israel. More than 200 people attended, including Amer Wrigley, the mayor of Fremont. Beth Israel now had a home of its own.
For the next two decades, Jewish life in Fremont settled into a modest but steady rhythm. The sanctuary seated about 65 people comfortably and filled for major holidays. Children attended Sunday school. The Sisterhood organized holiday events, charitable drives, and community programs. Church youth groups visited to learn about Judaism, and in 1948 Beth Israel hosted an interfaith Shabbat service that drew about 100 people. Local newspapers praised the congregation’s willingness to “cooperate with the other churches of the city and help make Fremont a leader in the pathways of better understanding.”
Jewish life extended beyond the synagogue, too. Families were tied to local businesses, including Joseph’s Department Store, and worked in medicine, jewelry, and scrap metal. The community was not large, but it was woven into the town.
Newman, who grew up in Fremont, remembers both the closeness and the isolation of that world. “I never knew another Jewish kid in Fremont,” he said. “Judaism was a lonely thing.”
“We were not deeply religious,” he said, “but deeply Jewish.”
By the 1960s, the patterns that had sustained small-town Jewish life in Fremont were thinning. Younger people moved away. Services, once weekly, became less frequent. Around 1967, Beth Israel discontinued its Sunday school, and the remaining children were sent to Sandusky or Toledo for Jewish education.
Still, the congregation persisted longer than some might have expected. In 1966, Beth Israel marked its diamond anniversary with a dinner at the Fremont Country Club attended by the mayor, a Catholic monsignor, and a Protestant minister — one more sign that even in decline, the synagogue understood itself as part of Fremont’s wider civic and religious life.
By the late 1970s, though, only about 15 families remained. Services continued once a month and on the High Holidays. In 1980, the trustees decided to close the congregation.
What remains
But closure did not mean immediate disappearance.
Some members joined Oheb Shalom in Sandusky. Torah scrolls and other ritual items were transferred to other synagogues, where they could still be used. A portion of the proceeds from Beth Israel’s sale established a scholarship at Fremont Ross High School for “average students” planning to attend college — an expression of communal values that continued for decades before fading from local records in the 2010s. Small gatherings and holiday observances in Fremont continued in private homes into the 1990s.
Looking back on Oheb Shalom’s closing in 2023, Newman described it less as an end than a transition: “This is not goodbye, just goodbye to the building.”
What remains is often harder to see and more fragile: names on a yahrzeit plaque, ritual items forgotten in a closet, a story carried from one generation to the next.
Brief knows stories from across Ohio. Many people, she said, are surprised by how widespread Jewish life once was in the state’s smaller towns and by how little visible evidence of it remains. Sometimes there was a formal congregation. Sometimes only “one or two families.” But there was still “a presence.” In some places, that presence stretches back earlier than most people assume, into the 1840s, 1850s, and 1860s.
“They wanted to be with other Jews,” Brief said. “They wanted a sense of Jewish life.”
In Fremont, memory survives in other ways too. David Detwiler, who grew up in town decades after Beth Israel’s peak, is not Jewish, but he remembers where the synagogue stood. He remembers the Jewish section of Oakwood Cemetery near his elementary school, and the peculiarity, in retrospect, of childhood games unfolding beside graves.
“Looking back, it was odd to have kids playing next to the dead,” he said.
He knew only one Jew growing up, an educator and school administrator who handed him his high school diploma. But a Jewish presence still lingered in the town’s memory and institutions, even after the congregation was gone. His own church, First Presbyterian, stood a block north of the synagogue and closed in 2025.
“You don’t really remember what happened,” he said. “You remember how it made you feel.”
Fremont’s Jewish memory also survives in stories about businesses and local relationships. Christine Burns, whose family owns Burns Iron and Metal, said her grandfather bought a scrapyard from Marcus Michles, a Jewish entrepreneur whose brother, Joseph, was among the leading figures in Temple Beth Israel, including serving as its president. He did so by borrowing money from Jewish community members and later became friends with many of them.
Joe Cheek, who worked for Michles in the 1970s, remembered him as demanding but fair. “He did not expect you to do anything he would not do himself,” Cheek said.
These memories are not always precise. Names fade. Timelines blur. Details collapse into one another.
But they have not vanished.
Back on Birchard Avenue, the former synagogue is open only seasonally, from May through October, for limited hours. Visitors can walk through the building, pausing at exhibits and reading placards about Sandusky County’s past. Few realize what the house once held.
There is no longer a sanctuary in any recognizable sense. No weekly services. No children’s classes. No steady ritual rhythm drawing people through the doors.
And yet the names remain.
The plaque is back in Fremont now, in the lobby of the old synagogue, beneath the staircase. It does not restore the congregation, or make the building a synagogue again. But it keeps the dead from becoming anonymous and the community from disappearing without a trace.
That is how continuity is carried: by a historical society, by a regional archive, or by a man who sees the names from his childhood and decides they cannot be let go.
The post The most Jewish room in Fremont, Ohio, is in a county history museum appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Whistleblower claims Trump’s campus antisemitism crackdown was a cash grab
A new whistleblower report alleges that the Trump Administration’s investigations into campus antisemitism were merely efforts to extract millions from universities, under the pretense of rooting out hate.
The report, written by the Washington, D.C.-based Government Accountability Project on behalf of former Department of Justice Attorney Haley Van Erem, alleges that the administration’s antisemitism task force carried out “politically motivated” investigations that were “unsupported by facts and contrary to law.” The investigations did not follow proper Title VI procedure, she said, adding that they were opened with predetermined outcomes, and did not respect the First Amendment.
The report has prompted Jewish U.S. Rep. Jamie Raskin (D-Maryland) to initiate an investigation into the allegations. The Nexus Foundation, a watchdog organization dedicated to combating antisemitism and protecting free speech, released a statement supporting Raskin and Van Erem.
This is not the first time Raskin or Nexus have criticized the administration’s antisemitism task force. Many left-leaning Jewish organizations have long criticized Trump’s efforts, with Raskin describing them as “weaponizing, distorting and exploiting the reality of antisemitism to attack academic freedom.”
In a statement to the Forward, the DOJ denied that Van Erem worked on university investigations. “And for all matters, the Department stands behind the integrity of these investigations,” a spokesperson wrote.
According to the report, Van Erem was involuntarily re-assigned from her role as a DOJ Civil Rights attorney to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services in order to investigate alleged antisemitism at medical schools — a probe prompted by a single New York Post article about protesters shouting “Free Palestine” and wearing Palestinian flags or keffiyehs at a medical school graduation.
Unable to find enough evidence of antisemitism at medical schools, Van Erem said, the task force soon expanded its probe to entire universities to increase the chances of finding it.
“This was one of the first major indications to the DOJ assignees that the investigations were not grounded in law or fact,” the report reads.
HHS did not immediately respond to request to comment.
Van Erem also criticized the administration for breaking the protocol of Title VI investigations, pursuing enforcement before first issuing a finding and allowing universities to resolve issues voluntarily. That enforcement: withholding funds.
To restrict funds, the administration used a separate legal mechanism that allows them to do so “for convenience” and for “not satisfying purpose.”
“The funding suspensions were meant to be coercive irrespective of investigative findings,” according to the report.
Van Erem and colleagues found no evidence at Brown of “deliberate indifference” to antisemitic incidents, the report said. But a supervisor allegedly discouraged sending Brown a closure letter stating those findings. According to the report, the administration settled with Columbia before an investigation was finished. Harvard sued the Trump administration, before its own investigation was complete, claiming the funding freeze was unlawful.
Van Erem said she observed findings of discrimination that she believed were actually “protected First Amendment activity” and believed that the task force’s settlement “content-based conditions” violated free expression.
Brown and Columbia both settled with the administration to restore federal funding, with Columbia paying the government $200 million and Brown agreeing to pay $50 million to Rhode Island workforce development organizations. A federal judge recently dismissed the Trump administration’s antisemitism lawsuit against Harvard, saying antisemitic incidents were “too isolated and episodic” to constitute a Title VI violation.
The post Whistleblower claims Trump’s campus antisemitism crackdown was a cash grab appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
An influential book of a Nazi leader’s confessions is now available in English
(JTA) — Jürgen Stroop, the Nazi commander who led the killing of more than 50,000 Jews, was sitting in a cell in Warsaw awaiting his own execution.
Before he met the gallows, Stroop described in unrepentant detail his ascent as a Nazi, his destruction of the Warsaw Ghetto and his daily prosecution of mass murder. He gave his account to Kazimierz Moczarski, the journalist, Polish resistance leader and veteran of the Warsaw Uprising who shared Stroop’s cell in Mokotów Prison for 255 days in 1949.
Though he is now remembered as a hero for fighting the Nazi occupation, Moczarski was villainized by Poland’s postwar Communist regime, which viewed his resistance group as a threat to their monopoly on power. His unlikely imprisonment alongside a former Nazi officer he’d once tried to assassinate gave Moczarski the chance to document Stroop’s confessions in an influential book, “Conversations with an Executioner.”
This book, despite being censored for years by the Polish government, proved revelatory about the psychology and motivations behind Nazi ideology. After decades of being translated into over 15 languages and adapted for the stage and screen, “Conversations with an Executioner” was published Tuesday for the first time in an uncensored English translation by Steerforth, an imprint of Pushkin Press.
The book’s champions say it’s about time.
“On the one hand, this book is a central historical source for this really important event in the modern history of the world,” Sean Casper Bye, the book’s English translator, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “And at the same time, it’s one that has continually struggled to get fully into publication.”
The book’s revelations about Stroop, the rise of Nazism and the psychology of genocide is reaching English readers after a long deferral. Moczarski made many unsuccessful attempts to publish “Conversations with an Executioner” after his release, but found little interest from publishers in Communist Poland.
The book did not align with Communist ideological narratives about the Holocaust, which deemphasized tragedy in favor of total victory over the Nazis. And the government’s crackdown on Polish resistance members — which led to Moczarski’s imprisonment with Stroop — remained a taboo subject.
A serialized version of the book first appeared in the Polish magazine Odra from 1972 to 1974, and Moczarski died the following year at age 68. He never saw the first censored edition in 1977, which removed references to the reasons behind his own incarceration. Nor did he see the publication of “Conversations with an Executioner” as an uncensored book in 1992, after the fall of Communism, when it became a bestseller.
Now, the book has “canonical status” in Poland, said Bye. It has been included for years on required school reading lists, shaping how generations of Polish people remember the Holocaust.
Moczarski’s account also faced an uphill battle to reach English readers. During the Cold War, censorship, disrupted communication and closed archives in Eastern Europe made it difficult to publish books from Poland in English, said Bye. That lowered the focus on Eastern European sources and languages for years in Holocaust scholarship across English-speaking countries.
The new English translation was championed by Clare Bullock, the book’s editor in the United Kingdom, who has Polish Jewish heritage. She spent years pushing for it to appear in English at multiple publishing houses, said Bye.
Moczarski and Stroop’s fates were intertwined long before they shared a cell. During World War II, Moczarski joined the Home Army, the main Polish resistance force, where he worked for the Office of Information and Propaganda.
Identifying local Nazi officials and collaborators as targets, Moczarski and his associates assassinated Stroop’s predecessor, Franz Kutschera, nicknamed the “Butcher of Warsaw” for his mass executions of Polish civilians. They also made a failed attempt to kill Stroop, detailed by Moczarski in their cell.
Though he was not Jewish, Moczarski supported and liaised with the Jewish Fighting Organization, known in Polish as ŻOB. The Home Army provided ŻOB leaders with weapons and technical instructions for the 1943 Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, the largest Jewish revolt against the Nazis.
A year later, Moczarski fought in the Home Army’s citywide Warsaw Uprising. The Nazis also brutally crushed this revolt, which led to the deaths of over 160,000 Poles, including some 17,000 Polish Jews who took part in the fighting or were discovered in hiding.
Instead of being rewarded after the war, Moczarski was arrested in 1945 as the Communists consolidated their power in the aftermath of Nazi rule. The new regime baselessly declared the Home Army a quasi-fascist organization, claiming they had collaborated with the Nazis rather than fighting against them. Moczarski spent 11 years in prison, where, he would later recount, he endured 49 methods of torture.
His confinement with Stroop made for another form of torture, according to Bye, who said it was “symbolically equating him, a brave Polish patriot, with a Nazi war criminal.”
The men had a third cellmate: Gustav Schielke, a German former policeman turned low-ranking SS officer who resented the police’s subordination to the Nazis, but did not resist them. In prison, these enemies lived under a code that required equality and confidentiality for survival. They slept on the floor together on three pallets, and Moczarski spent nights huddled between Stroop and Schielke to stay warm.
Moczarski made it his mission to understand the war criminals.
“If I succeed, I have the chance — if only to a certain extent — to answer my own question,” he wrote. “What historical, psychological, sociological mechanism led some Germans to come together into a gang of mass murderers who governed the Reich and did their utmost to introduce their ‘Ordnung’ — their Order — in Europe and the world?”
He unraveled in Stroop an average German middle-class man of his time, with a low level of education, a drive to rise through military ranks, a reverence for order and obedience and a penchant for parroting Nazi ideology.
As his defenses wore down, Stroop gave Moczarski a day-by-day account of his orders to crush the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising in 1943. Over nearly a month, his forces battled Jewish guerilla fighters and eventually burned down the ghetto block by block. He referred to the operations as “neutralizing” Jews or “cleansing” the Warsaw Ghetto of “subhumans.”
When Moczarski asked Stroop whether he pitied the women fighters whom he captured and killed, he said the commander responded, after a long and “worked up” silence, with Nazi clichés.
“Finally, the general straightens up, smooths down the hair at his temples and replies, in a chanting rhythm,” Moczarski wrote. “‘Anyone wishing to be a true man in those days, meaning a strong one, had to act as I did. Gelobt sei was hart macht!’” The German phrase by Nietzsche, meaning “Praised be what hardens,” was taken from Nazi propaganda.
In this portrait of Stroop, Bye saw a man who was motivated primarily by moving up the Nazi Party hierarchy. While Stroop repeated Nazi tropes and adapted his beliefs accordingly — upon becoming an SS officer, he broke with the Roman Catholic Church and declared himself “Gottgläubig,” a Nazi religious term — much of his testimony amounted to a boastful account of personal victories.
“This was a type of Nazi,” said Bye. “Not everybody was a completely 100% committed idealogue. There were lots of people who were just ambitious and unscrupulous, and that was part of the engine that kept the Nazi machine going.”
The idea that the Holocaust could have been willingly committed by everyday, career-minded people, not just Nazi ideologues and sadists, has been echoed in other landmark works of scholarship and culture, from Hannah Arendt’s 1963 “Eichmann in Jerusalem” to the 2023 film “The Zone of Interest.”
“Conversations with an Executioner” has been challenged as an authentic document, since Moczarski had no materials to take notes in the cell, yet recounted years of dialogue in vivid detail. Moczarski claimed that he honed an exceptional memory in prison and could write the book in his mind. After being released in 1956, he verified facts by obtaining Stroop’s reports from the Polish Commission for Researching Nazi War Crimes and information from the U.S. Pentagon archives.
The limitations of the book as a firsthand account also make it a precious resource, said Bye. Stroop’s destruction of the Warsaw Ghetto was so effective that “Conversations with an Executioner” provided a rare surviving window into what occurred.
Bye said that voices like Moczarski’s are becoming ever more crucial as the last generation of survivors die out and the Holocaust fades from living memory. He hopes the new English translation will give readers a counterweight to current-day narratives about the Holocaust, emerging in politics and elsewhere, that mold the past to fit ideological messages.
“There are so many people who have a vested interest in getting us to look at the Holocaust in a particular way, who want to instrumentalize the Holocaust as this hugely emotionally weighty event for their own purposes,” he said. “One of the ways that we can keep in touch with the reality of the Holocaust is by going back to primary sources like this — going back to the people who did see it with their own eyes and who wrote about it themselves.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post An influential book of a Nazi leader’s confessions is now available in English appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
California Democratic primary pits AIPAC-backed candidate against progressive Israel critic
(JTA) — AIPAC and its allies have poured millions of dollars into a California special election, transforming a race between two Democrats into a battleground over the pro-Israel group’s place in Democratic politics.
The spending in the Bay Area’s 14th congressional district is aimed at boosting Melissa Hernandez, a moderate Democrat and president of the Bay Area Rapid Transit Board, over Aisha Wahab, a progressive state senator who supports ending U.S. military aid to Israel.
Wahab replied “yes” during an April debate when asked whether Israel’s war in Gaza constituted a genocide. In contrast, Hernandez declined to give a yes-or-no answer, instead saying that Israel had a right to defend itself following the Oct. 7, 2023, attacks, but that the “destruction into Gaza has gone too far.”
Wahab remains the favorite heading into Tuesday’s election to replace former Rep. Eric Swalwell, a reliable supporter of Israel in Congress who resigned in April amid sexual misconduct allegations that he has denied. Wahab finished ahead of Hernandez in the election’s June 16 special primary, receiving 42.8% of the vote compared to Hernandez’s 16.8%.
The United Democracy Project, AIPAC’s main super PAC, has poured close to $2.5 million into boosting Hernandez and attacking Wahab this election cycle, while Bold America, another group that has received funding from the United Democracy Project, has spent roughly $1.8 million, according to The Hill.
When asked about the AIPAC spending in the race by the Pleasanton Weekly, Hernandez replied, “I have no say over independent expenditures. That is the law, and I see them when you do.” She added: “I have thousands of donors and not one of them sets my agenda.”
But while the Bay Area race has become one of the the latest focuses of the pro-Israel lobby, following a costly defeat by Abdul El-Sayed in Michigan’s Democratic Senate primary, Israel has hardly been a defining issue in the contest, and Wahab has not neatly fit the mold of other progressive candidates the group has targeted this election cycle.
Wahab, who is the child of Afghan refugees, has centered her campaign on affordability issues and civil rights. While her campaign website calls for “No More Wars!” it does not specifically reference the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Citing the civilian toll in U.S. military operations in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria and Libya, her site reads, “We cannot bomb our way to lasting peace.”
Hernandez, who previously served as the mayor of Dublin, California, has focused her campaign on lowering costs and her commitments to fighting crime and increasing public safety.
Wahab, 39, has drawn endorsements from a host of labor unions, the California Democratic Party and Our Revolution, the group formed by Sen. Bernie Sanders to advance the progressive movement. Hernandez, 51, meanwhile, has received endorsements from several police and fire unions, as well as Democratic Jewish Reps. Lois Frankel of Florida and Brad Schneider of Illinois.
During a Thursday appearance on the livestream of Hasan Piker, who has faced accusations of antisemitism, Wahab said that she would have voted for the Stop the Bombs Act and supported ending all U.S. aid to Israel, though she stipulated that “humanitarian aid is important to me too.”
During the livestream, Wahab also touted a September 2025 resolution she co-authored with Jewish state Senator Scott Wiener, which called for the “end to the humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza and the immediate release of all hostages.” The resolution was also signed by members of the California Legislative Jewish Caucus.
In 2021, Wahab also collaborated with local Jewish leaders on a fundraiser for Afghan refugee resettlement in the aftermath of the U.S. pullout from the country.
“I work well with the Jewish community. I’m very proud to support them. They’re my constituents,” Wahab said on the livestream.
“As an Afghan, you know, I really deeply want to ensure that all people feel welcomed and safe and secure in this nation. And we know that there’s a rise in antisemitism. We know all of that,” Wahab continued. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t criticize a foreign nation. You can’t criticize their leadership.”
Wahab attributed the volume of AIPAC spending in the race to “pure racism and prejudice,” saying that her “Jewish Senate colleagues are literally confused as to why they are spending this much money against me.”
As Wahab pushes back on the attack ads, she has also garnered $200,000 in support from American Priorities, a pro-Palestinian PAC that formed as a counterweight to AIPAC.
The liberal pro-Israel lobby J Street Action Fund also announced Thursday that it was spending $100,000 to support Wahab.
Tali deGroot, the group’s vice president of political and digital strategy, said in a statement that AIPAC’s spending against her marked another “cynical attempt” to “defeat a candidate who won’t rubber-stamp their agenda.”
“AIPAC’s super PAC has failed time and again this cycle, and we expect this latest attempt to take Republican billionaire dollars and buy a Democratic primary to fail as well,” said deGroot. “Voters in the 14th deserve better, and they deserve a Member of Congress who will bring the kind of clear-eyed, nuanced and compassionate leadership that Dr. Wahab has shown throughout her career.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post California Democratic primary pits AIPAC-backed candidate against progressive Israel critic appeared first on The Forward.
