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Why are there so many Jewish sports halls of fame?
(JTA) — On one wall of the dining hall at the Indiana University Hillel sit 36 framed photographs of Jewish alumni who have made an impact in the sports industry, from athletes to executives. It’s the IU Jewish Sports Wall of Fame.
One of those pictures is of Josh Rawitch, who has had a long career as an executive in baseball. At first, Rawitch told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, he questioned whether he was truly worthy of being honored alongside fellow Hoosiers like Mark Cuban, the billionaire businessman and owner of the NBA’s Dallas Mavericks, and Ted Kluszewski, a four-time All-Star with the MLB’s Cincinnati Reds in the 1950s.
But then Rawitch thought about the location of the wall, and who it might impact.
“You’re going to have young people, 18, 19 years old, walking in there looking at the wall, seeing all these people who are up there who have gone on to do significant things in the industry,” Rawitch said. “That’s actually pretty cool. That actually inspires them. If I was 18 and I’d have walked in and that wall had been there when I was a freshman, I would have thought, ‘that’s really cool.’ I would love to be like one of those people someday.”
Rawitch knows a thing or two about halls of fame: He’s the president of the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown, New York. He said institutions like the one he leads are important “repositories for history.”
“I think having a hall of fame of any kind in any city essentially does two things — it honors people who are really good at what they do, and it documents the history of what’s gone on in that industry,” he said.
The Indiana University Jewish Sports Wall of Fame, located in the dining hall at Indiana University Hillel. (Courtesy)
The display that honors Rawitch in Bloomington is just one of many halls, walls and exhibits across the United States and the world — many of them small — that honor Jewish greatness in sports. From Southern California to Philadelphia, St. Louis to Washington, D.C., similar organizations and institutions recognize Jewish athletes, coaches, executives, media members and beyond.
Why so many?
“We want to call attention to that because of the antisemitic trope that Jews are not good soldiers, farmers or athletes. We need to overcome that,” said Jed Margolis, who runs the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame in Israel, which has honored over 400 athletes since 1981 and is housed in Netanya after being founded in the United States. “It’s simply not true. And telling the stories out there will help inspire people and lay to rest some of those falsehoods which I think are important to overcome.”
In the fight against antisemitism, Steve Rosenberg, who chairs the Philadelphia Jewish Sports Hall of Fame, said “the best defense is a good offense.” The Philadelphia hall, which inducted its first class in 1997 and has moved locations multiple times, has 183 total inductees, including former NFL tight end Brent Novoselsky and longtime 76ers broadcaster Marc Zumoff.
“We shine the light on the great accomplishments of Jews in sports. And we need to do more of that in the world,” Rosenberg said.
Rosenberg added that he thinks there should be even more halls of fame, for Jewish actors, architects, poets and so on, “so that we can celebrate our accomplishments, not in the way that we pat ourselves on the back, but that we can talk about all the great things that we do as a people.”
For Craig Neuman, the chief programming officer at the St. Louis Jewish Community Center, a key feature of Jewish culture is the sense of connection Jews feel when they discover that a celebrity is Jewish. That sense of pride is clear in the work Neuman does with the St. Louis Jewish Sports Hall of Fame, which has its own hallway at the JCC.
“I can’t imagine any other place in the world where you would say, ‘I feel connected to this other country, or these other people, by sheer virtue of our religion,’” Neuman said. “There’s some pride that’s involved with that.”
Like the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame seeks to recognize the most elite athletes — Jewish world record holders, Olympians and the like. Or, as Margolis put it: “We’re looking for the best of the best: the Hank Greenbergs, the Mark Spitzes, people like that.”
Jed Margolis, left, with former Israeli basketball star Mickey Berkowitz, back center, and his family, at the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame in Netanya, Israel. (Courtesy of the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame)
At the local halls of fame, the criteria are different. Rawitch likened it to the dynamic between national versus state and local politics.
“As the National Baseball Hall of Fame, I think it’s pretty clear that we are honoring the absolute greatest who ever played or worked within the game of baseball nationally,” Rawitch said. “Clearly, that should be harder to get into than, say, the California Baseball Hall of Fame or the New York Baseball Hall of Fame. But I don’t think it should diminish if you’re a recipient of that. It should be an honor for anybody who’s named to any sort of hall or wall of fame.”
Inclusivity is central to the local halls of fame.
“I think we want to, on some level, send a message that says, ‘hey, just because you’re not in Cooperstown doesn’t mean that you didn’t have an impact in the world, on your sport, in your community,’” said Neuman.
But that doesn’t mean the standards for entry aren’t high. In fact, in St. Louis, candidates for induction must possess more than just athletic accomplishments — there’s also the “mensch factor.”
“When you are in a position where people might look up to you because of some accomplishments, and whether it’s because you’re an athlete, or you’re a politician, or a lawyer or whatever the profession that puts you in the public’s eye, there’s a certain responsibility that comes along with that,” said Neuman. “It’s a great example to set that, yeah, this guy was a great baseball player, but he was also a great human being as well.”
The St. Louis Jewish Sports Hall of Fame has 84 members inducted across eight classes dating back to 1992 — including Chicago Cubs ace Ken Holtzman and basketball legend Nancy Lieberman. The last group was enshrined in 2018.
Many of those inductees represent more than the typical professional sports — baseball, basketball, football, soccer and hockey. There are racquetball and handball players, even a hot air balloonist. (Whether that counted as a sport was a topic of debate for the selection committee.)
In Philadelphia, a similar conversation was held around whether poker should qualify — in that case, poker was allowed, but it turned out the candidate in question wasn’t actually Jewish.
For Rosenberg, recognizing people from a diverse range of sports is an important part of the work, especially as he works to engage younger members of the community.
“I want the young people, particularly the young Jews, to know that there’s a place for you, no matter if you’re a golfer, a swimmer, a gymnast, a baseball player, whatever you want to do, that you can go on to achieve greatness and that greatness will be recognized,” Rosenberg said.
He added that very few people stop by the hall of fame.
“The reality is, if I stood at the hall of fame on any given day, people that are coming in just to see the hall of fame, we couldn’t get a minyan,” Rosenberg said, referencing Judaism’s 10-person prayer quorum. “Maybe over the course of a year. But we do get the sort of incidental traffic, people that are going to the JCC for other activities.”
The Philadelphia Jewish Sports Hall of Fame. (Courtesy)
The Philadelphia hall’s journey to the JCC was not a simple one. The collection used to have a permanent space at a local YMHA, featuring typical sports artifacts like bats and jerseys. Then it moved into the Jewish federation building — until September 2021, when Hurricane Ida caused severe flooding that destroyed much of the hall of fame’s memorabilia. The current exhibit at the JCC is more two-dimensional, Rosenberg said.
One of the Philadelphia inductees is Arn Tellem, the vice chairman of the NBA’s Detroit Pistons and a longtime agent who represented A-list athletes like Kobe Bryant. Throughout the 2000s, Tellem was regularly ranked among the top agents in all of sports, and he is a member of the Southern California, Michigan and Philadelphia Jewish Sports Halls of Fame.
By the time Tellem got the call from the Philadelphia hall in 2015, he had received his fair share of recognition. But that didn’t make this honor count any less for the Philadelphia native. Rosenberg said Tellem “couldn’t wait to come” to the ceremony, bringing three tables worth of supporters with him.
“Arn Tellem isn’t doing this for recognition, or for money, or for fame,” Rosenberg said. “He has that. It means something to him.”
That sentiment seems to be shared by honorees from across the halls. Rosenberg added that he has seen some inductees moved to tears by the news. When Chris Berman, the ESPN broadcaster who has anchored the network’s flagship program “SportsCenter” since a month after it launched in 1979, was honored by the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame, he was “very touched,” said Margolis.
Lauren Becker Rubin, a former star lacrosse and field hockey player at Brown University, was inducted into the Philadelphia Jewish Sports Hall of Fame in 2018.
“It was a big honor for both me and my family,” Becker Rubin told JTA. “I think the connection of celebrating both the athletic achievement and the community makes it meaningful on another level.”
Becker Rubin, who is now a mental performance coach, is also a member of Brown’s athletic Hall of Fame for setting numerous school records in both sports during her college career. But being recognized by her local Jewish community was a particularly special honor, she said.
After her induction, Becker Rubin joined the hall’s board. “Celebrating positive achievements and putting out positive messages about Jewish athletes is a good counter to the negative rhetoric that is out there,” she said.
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The post Why are there so many Jewish sports halls of fame? appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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He went to a different Manhattan synagogue every week. Here’s what it taught him.
(JTA) — Reporting on the Jewish community is a lot like ornithology, except instead of birds the goal is to describe the dress, the habits and the particular behavior that distinguish, say, the Black-Hatted Monsey Orthodox from the Greater Philadelphia Jewish Renewalist. The careful shul-watcher notes their habitats, listens carefully to their songs and pays close attention to the things they eat.
Andrew Waxman is a banking and risk management consultant, not a journalist or an ornithologist. Yet he’s written what amounts to a field guide to the varieties of being and praying Jewish in New York City. For “My Year in New York Synagogues,” he spent his Friday evenings and Shabbat mornings in 2025 visiting nearly every synagogue within walking distance of his home on the Upper West Side.
That’s close to 50 synagogues, including most of Manhattan’s significant congregations. He also includes a few unclassifiable communities, such as a Jewish runners’ club and meetings of the Hostages Forum in Central Park.
The result is part sociological field trip to New York City’s Jewish landscape and part love letter to the city’s Jewish variety: Ashkenazi, Sephardic, Moroccan, LGBTQ, Modern Orthodox, haredi Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist and independent, to name a few.
Written at a time when the city’s Jews are on edge, buffeted by waves of antisemitism and anti-Zionism, Waxman wants to remind them that the community’s diversity and creativity are its strength.
“The impetus for the book really was just the awe in which I find myself around the number of amazing communities, and the diversity that we have in New York that I really think is unparalleled in Jewish history,” he said in an interview.
His stops include familiar places like Central Synagogue, where Rabbi Angela Buchdahl’s Asian-American background, a talented musical ensemble and distinct Moorish Revival architecture helped Waxman, who describes himself as liberal Orthodox, see a “community very comfortable in its approach to spirituality and Judaism, forging its own path, authentic in its own way, distinctive even amongst all the differences that characterize so many New York communities.”
At Or Zarua, the egalitarian Conservative synagogue on the Upper East Side, the intimate scale allowed a lively back-and-forth between rabbi and congregants during the Torah reading.
Meanwhile, the cavernous Young Israel of the Upper West Side offered a surprise: A synagogue he remembered as nearly empty and elderly had, decades later, become packed with young Orthodox Jews.
Less well known is the Koznitz. Behind an unmarked green door on the Upper West Side, Waxman found what a friend called the “speakeasy minyan.” There 70 or so men gather for “no frills, fast and lay-led” Shabbat prayers in a congregation named after the 18th-century Koznitzer Rebbe and his descendants.
“I realized that everybody feels that their community is special,” Waxman said. “And their community, whether it’s Reform, Reconstructionist, Conservative, they feel proud and they feel very connected.”
Waxman’s synagogue year included the bittersweet resolution of the Israeli hostage crisis, as well as the simmering aftermath of the campus protests and growing political tensions over Israel and antisemitism after Oct. 7. Many congregations added prayers or other rituals remembering the hostages, efforts that crossed political lines.
Other times, the ideological divides were stark. In Orthodox synagogues, Waxman heard rhetoric about Israel and the war that he described as “aggressive, jingoistic almost.” At the Orthodox Fifth Avenue Synagogue, one member of the “Kiddish Club” joked about Upper West Side liberals and another proudly mentioned his apartment in Trump Tower. At the liberal independent B’nai Jeshurun, the rabbis’ remarks included concern for Palestinians as well as Israeli Jews.
Few of those political discussions make it into his guidebook, however. If some congregations were seeing a growing contingent of anti-Zionists in the pews, for example, he doesn’t mention it. Waxman acknowledges that he sought to avoid labelling congregations by their politics. “It has been distressing to see political discord come between families and communities and I have no wish to put a pin on that,” he writes.
Waxman tends to focus on the positive, ending each entry with a short description of the synagogues’ “strengths” and “distinctiveness.” In the admittedly very tiny genre of synagogue reviewing, others have been a little more pointed in their assessments. London’s Jewish Chronicle used to run reviews by Secret Shulgoer that awarded (and took away) stars based on “warmth,” “welcome,” “decorum” and “service.” In the 1990s, Kol Ha’Ir, an alternative Jerusalem weekly, dispatched the sharp-tongued Jacky Levy to review synagogues as he would a play or restaurant; he once compared a Reform synagogue to a church.
More recently, David A.M. Wilensky of J., the Northern California Jewish weekly, took a journalistic approach in his “Jew in the Pew” column, offering his own observations and quoting congregants on their impressions, positive and sometimes negative, about their Bay Area synagogues.
Waxman’s goal appears more boosterish than critical or journalistic. He sees his ideal reader as someone who has just moved to the city and is looking for a spiritual home. Anticipating their criteria, he describes not only the prayers and sermons but the people, clothes, melodies, architecture and conversation.
And, yes, the kiddush.
He had initially joked with a friend that the book might simply be about kiddushes, the receptions that follow most Saturday morning Shabbat services. Do they serve meat? Will it be enough food to count as lunch? Who showed up “JFK” — just for kiddush?
But the food turned out to be more than comic relief. Kiddush, Waxman said, is where community happens. People who may not see one another during the week reconnect. They talk about their children, their problems, who’s getting married, who might be ill.
And he suspects that kiddush has become competitive.
At Altneu, a new Orthodox synagogue that broke away from Park East Synagogue in 2022, Waxman found a bartender, tequila and an impressive selection of whisky. He notes that other Orthodox synagogues in the area now regularly offer meat kiddushes, suggesting that congregations are using food to lure and hold on to members.
As for clothes, Waxman grew up in an Orthodox synagogue in Manchester, England, where the congregation president and other leaders wore top hats. The custom persists at The Jewish Center on the Upper West Side, where the rabbis and officers wear top hats and morning suits between Sukkot and Shavuot. Elsewhere, especially but not exclusively at non-Orthodox synagogues, the codes have loosened: Reflecting a similar change in corporate life, men have doffed their jackets and ties; women often swap skirts and dresses for slacks.
Waxman hadn’t attended a Reform service before setting out on his grand tour, and he said that the experience changed him. Himself a member of Darchei Noam, a “partnership minyan” that combines Orthodox ritual with expanded roles for women, he appreciated how the Reform congregations included Hebrew selectively but intentionally in their prayers. He admired congregations like Romemu, which resists easy denominational categorization, for their willingness to bend the traditional service structure — to go “off piste,” as he put it — rather than treat the prayer book as a script that must be followed exactly.
Waxman may have set out to write a Yelp for synagogues, but the project came to mean more. In addition to a sense of abundance, he found a spirit of hospitality. Currently working on a project in Mexico City, he noted how synagogues there won’t admit strangers — even the author of a book on New York synagogues — unless they sign up in advance. He insisted that, despite heightened security, New York’s synagogues are still welcoming places for newcomers.
“I’m hopeful that New York can remain as open as it is to the stranger,” he said. “Judaism, at the end of the day, for me, is really about giving people a community, a sense of belonging.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post He went to a different Manhattan synagogue every week. Here’s what it taught him. appeared first on The Forward.
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Miami-Dade county in Florida raises the limit on investments in Israel bonds
(JTA) — The Miami-Dade region in Florida can spend millions more tax dollars on Israel, after officials increased the share of county investments that can include Israeli bonds.
The Board of County Commissioners approved a resolution last week toward the start of a seven-hour meeting, in a unanimous, single vote that grouped together numerous ordinances. This action enables the county to invest up to 5%, rather than 3%, of its $9 billion in investments in these bonds — debt issued by the Israeli government sold by a U.S. underwriter.
Despite the previous cap of 3%, Israeli bonds only make up about 1.48% of Miami-Dade’s portfolio, or roughly $130 million, according to the county’s third-quarter investment report.
Known as “Israel Bonds,” these loans are deeply rooted in the Diaspora’s relationship with the country. Israel, like many countries, raises money by selling bonds to investors, who then receive repayments with interest after a specified time period. But for American Jews, these bonds are issued via the U.S.-based Development Corporation for Israel, which has served as the underwriter since 1951.
As for Miami-Dade, the county began purchasing Israeli bonds in 2016. But these investments increased substantially just after Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attacks on Israel. At the time, Miami-Dade Mayor Daniella Levine Cava announced that the county would be boosting these investments from $51 million to $76 million.
Palm Beach County made a similar decision at the time, as did cities, counties and states around the country.
Nonetheless, activists nationwide have increasingly been pushing governments to stop investing in Israel bonds, citing the Jewish state’s military operations in Gaza.
An initiative called “Break the Bonds,” launched by the progressive Jewish Voice for Peace group, claims that “the Israeli military is committing a genocide of Palestinians in Gaza,” and that community investments in such bonds are enabling the situation.
“At a time when so many people in our community are struggling, we believe our public dollars should be invested in our communities and in meeting the needs of the people who live here,” JVP South Florida said in a statement, prior to last Tuesday’s vote.
Israel Bonds representatives did not reply to repeated requests for comment.
Given the resolution’s swift passage, which occurred without a public hearing at the board meeting, detractors signed up to testify about an unrelated item in order to voice their concerns.
“My tax dollars should be kept safe and should be working to benefit my community,” Coconut Grove resident Jared Simon, who identified himself as Jewish, told the commissioners.
“You didn’t even allow public comment on it before voting,” he said. “Your constituents do not want their tax dollars funding the functions of the Israeli government.”
Addressing the lack of public hearing, the commissioners responded that residents already had the opportunity to speak about the resolution during a session earlier this summer.
That session occurred on July 15, when the Intergovernmental and Economic Impact Committee advanced the rule to the Board of County Commissioners with a favorable recommendation.
Among the most prominent speakers to take the podium — even though he had apparently not registered to do so — was James Fishback, a far-right former gubernatorial candidate and sharp critic of Israel. Alleging that the commissioners “unanimously voted to give up to $450 million of money to Israel,” Fishback said he’d rather not be “escorted out by these great men in uniform.”
“Do you serve the people of Hialeah or of Haifa? Do you serve the people of Aventura or of Tel Aviv?” he asked the commissioners. “Do you serve the people of South Miami or of Jerusalem? This money should be invested here in this community.”
As the sergeants escorted Fishback out of the auditorium, another individual screamed “America First!” from the audience.
Oliver Gilbert, one of the commissioners, responded that the “board today didn’t vote to give any money to anyone,” stressing that they just “set investment criteria.”
Before Tuesday’s meeting reached its most heated point, Keon Hardemon, another commissioner, told the audience that he and his colleagues “don’t care what you’re talking about, what subject it is that you don’t like, what you care for, what you don’t care for, what your politics are.”
“What we are not going to stand for are people who want to make anyone in this room feel uncomfortable,” Hardemon added.
Yet immediately after this intervention, public outcry over the resolution, known as 11A2, continued.
Miami resident Mina Trachtenberg argued that county investment policies require the prioritization “of public funds and liquidity of public funds above all else.”
“The resolution passed today achieves the opposite of that, opening the door to the purchase of high-risk, even junk-quality bonds of a foreign entity,” Trachtenberg said. “Please divest from apartheid.”
Anthony Rodriguez, the chairman of the Board of County Commissioners, eventually instructed the sergeants in the room to eject anyone who refused to comply with the rules.
Just after those instructions, Miami resident Mohammed Mohammed came to the podium, voicing his alarm that he was “going to be escorted out just for being Palestinian.”
“That’s not the case. Let’s not put words in anybody’s mouth,” a visibly frustrated Rodriguez responded. “You just have to follow the order and speak on the item.”
Mohammed then declared “that 11A2 is an absolute disgrace,” leading Rodriguez to summon the sergeants and declare that the speakers just “want their minute of fame.”
The rule’s sponsor, commissioner René García, explained that the county invests about $9 billion, with the intention of generating “a greater return of money” to fund public needs. García, a former Republican state senator, explained that the rule simply ensures “more flexibility and more liquidity” for certain investments.
In addition to raising the investment cap from 3% to 5%, the resolution would also reduce the maturity of “bonds backed by the full faith and credit of the state of Israel” from five to three years.
Within that text, the authors also deleted a clause that previously had required Israel to have an “A” credit rating from at least two agencies. That revision stemmed from a recent Florida statute allowing investments in Israel bonds regardless of the country’s rating. This change was particularly noteworthy because credit ratings of Israel have fluctuated in the past few years.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Miami-Dade county in Florida raises the limit on investments in Israel bonds appeared first on The Forward.
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Israeli expats voting case dismissed by Israel’s High Court
(JTA) — TEL AVIV – Israel’s High Court on Wednesday dismissed a petition by Israeli expatriates seeking to vote in the Oct. 27 election after discovering that they had been excluded from the voter rolls under a little-known Interior Ministry classification that records certain citizens as nonresidents.
The petition was filed by some 100 expatriate Israelis challenging their exclusion from the voter rolls under an Interior Ministry classification known as “Code 51,” which records them as having ceased to be Israeli residents.
The petitioners said they had never asked to give up their status as Israeli residents and questioned the legal authority, criteria and process by which the classification was imposed. Some only discovered the designation when they checked their eligibility ahead of the election.
The court did not resolve that factual dispute, instead dismissing the petition on procedural grounds. Justice Yechiel Kasher said the case was filed too late, a week before the voter registry was due to be finalized, and that the petitioners had not first used the statutory appeals process available to challenge their registration status. The court also said the petition lacked a detailed factual record showing how each of the petitioners came to receive Code 51.
The case arose as tens of thousands of Israeli citizens living abroad are making plans to return to Israel to cast ballots in the country’s first national election since the Oct. 7 Hamas attack. More than 30,000 expatriates had registered with Fly&Vote, an initiative helping Israelis arrange election travel, which has already secured seven dedicated flights to Israel.
The Interior Ministry told the court that Code 51 is given to citizens who informed a population registry official that they were leaving Israel and asked not to remain registered as residents. The petitioners disputed that account, saying they had never asked for their registration as Israeli residents to be canceled.
Ilana Mittman, a retired social scientist living in Baltimore and a petitioner in the case, discovered this summer that her residency status had been changed under Code 51 on March 7, 1986, the same date she visited the Israeli Consulate in San Francisco to register her newborn son.
Mittman told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that consular staff took away her Israeli ID card during the 1986 appointment without explanation. “I remember how bad of a feeling it was to give that document away,” she said. “I felt I gave a part of myself away when that happened. But I didn’t know that my biggest right as a citizen – the right to vote – was just robbed from me.”
The petition also challenged the law tying voting eligibility to residency, arguing that it conflicts with Israel’s Basic Law governing the Knesset, which guarantees every Israeli citizen aged 18 or older the right to vote unless a court has deprived them of that right. The court did not decide that question, and Kasher said the petitioners could raise it again after the election.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Israeli expats voting case dismissed by Israel’s High Court appeared first on The Forward.
