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With his New York restaurant, Shmoné, Israeli chef Eyal Shani earns his first Michelin nod
(New York Jewish Week) — Israeli celebrity chef Eyal Shani, who currently boasts 40 restaurants worldwide, became a sensation on these shores when he opened Miznon in 2018 at Chelsea Market. There, he introduced New Yorkers to a new style of Mediterranean street food that eclipsed the usual falafel, hummus and shawarma offerings. Locals and tourists alike lined up to devour Shani’s smashed potatoes, inventive pita creations and now-iconic whole roasted cauliflower heads.
Last May, Shani opened the latest addition to his NYC restaurant group: The aptly named Shmoné, which is located on West Eighth St. — “shmoné” is eight in Hebrew. The restaurant’s fresh approach — it features a new menu daily — landed Shani in the Michelin guide for the first time ever earlier this year, nominated for coveted star status. According to Michelin, “this small, sleek space punches way above its weight with dazzling Neo-Levantine cuisine.”
“I’m very, very happy for that, [but] I’m not focusing on getting Michelin stars,” Shani told the New York Jewish Week.
In fact, though he takes pride in all his restaurants — and voices enthusiasm for every culinary feat — Shani doesn’t believe Shmoné is “his most creative spot.” And yet, he said Shmoné is a very personal place to him, one of his most beloved restaurants. Ever the raconteur, he spoke about the energy that he puts into his food there and the harmony that results. “You need the magic,” he said. “I cannot explain it.”
As with all his restaurants, Shmoné has an open kitchen, which allows diners to observe the “food choreography,” as he called it. “I’m not cooking without a precise address,” he said. “I will cook for you when I see you. I am cooking for your eyes. If I cannot see you, I’m not cooking for you.”
Local sourcing and farm-fresh ingredients play a key role, too — something that Shani sees as very Israeli. “[Our ancestors] used to eat very pure, very close to the earth,” he said. “When you serve pure food to people it reminds them of something that’s exciting them.” The staff at Shmoné comb the Union Square Greenmarket for fresh produce, while their chicken is sourced from a small farm in Pennsylvania.
Shmoné’s menu is divided into categories by “creature” — though Shani utilizes an unconventionally broad definition of the word, including not only animal life but produce, breads and desserts. A “wheat creature” could be focaccia with sour cream; an “earth creature” could be tomato ovaries and green chili or a “stretchy stracciatella lasagna” served in a pyrex tray. Shani’s distinctive sense of humor is evident throughout the menu; for example, Shmoné previously served a dish called “I think I’ve managed to make a better mashed potato than [renowned French Chef Joel] Robuchon and it’s vegan.”
Like Shani’s other restaurants, Shmoné has an open kitchen and focuses on fresh produce. (Max Flatow)
Shani, 64, was born in Jerusalem and now lives in Tel Aviv. A self-trained chef who had studied cinematography, he cited a few inspirations for his career, though a major one was his vegan grandfather, who lived upstairs. Shani’s grandfather served him raw food, juices and salads and, in taking Shani to vineyards and markets, taught him to appreciate the purity of vegetables and fruit.
After his army service, Shani traveled for two years in Europe. But when a girl broke his heart, he returned to Israel and lived on a friend’s farm in the north. It was there that he decided to become a chef. “I lived there for a year like a priest — I ate from the fields and drank the water that I took from the ground,” he said. “One day, there were some hunters who were my friends and they came to bring me four porcupines. I lit the fire and ate [them], drank two bottles of wine and fell asleep in the middle of the field. I woke up in the morning and decided that all I wanted to do was cook.”
After painting houses for a while, Shani got a job in 1988 at Hotel HaSharon’s restaurant in the Herzylia Pituah neighborhood of Tel Aviv. He admitted he did not know how to cook but promised to work hard. Once he advanced to sous chef, the future restaurateur could be found racing to the parking lot to refer to the Julia Child cookbook he had tucked away in his car.
In 1989, Shani opened his first restaurant, Oceanus, in Jerusalem. A small, 24-seat space, it offered bouillabaisse, focaccia, fish and salad, and it was there that Shani began to really hone his skills. It closed after 11 years and was followed by Ocean in Tel Aviv, open for two years. Then, in 2008 he and his partner, Shahar Segal, opened the trendy, high-end HaSalon in Tel Aviv, serving up modern takes on Israeli cuisine with some Italian influences. This was the start of his restaurant empire in Israel; soon HaSalon was followed by the casual Miznon and seven others.
After he established himself solidly as a force in Israel, Shani expanded the Miznon chain to Paris in 2013, then Vienna in 2016, followed by Singapore, Melbourne and, eventually, New York, where Shani said he was seduced by the city’s exciting, vast and diverse food scene, calling it “the essence of American culture.”
At the same time, Shani said he feels challenged to upend New Yorkers’ culinary expectations. “When they are putting walls around me it’s seducing me, it’s seducing me to break them,” he said. “It’s my nature.”
From that first Miznon outpost at Chelsea Market, Shani expanded to eight restaurants across Manhattan, including a two-story Miznon North sit-down restaurant on the Upper West Side in 2019. (One Miznon branch has since closed.) That same year he opened HaSalon on Tenth Ave., where he serves dishes like “Hell’s Chicken” (a play on the neighborhood, Hell’s Kitchen), and a hand-rolled 12-foot pici pasta noodle, inspired by the notion that everything in New York is big and presented on a large scale.
Shani opened Naked Tomato, a skewer restaurant with generous salad accompaniments, in Hudson Yards during the pandemic. There, he became notorious for serving a single tomato on a plate for $24, inspired by a “perfect tomato” that he came across in an upstate New York greenhouse. “If a dish is a sentence, my culinary sentence is one word and that is the subject,” he said. “If I’m doing something with tomato, it will only be tomato: no sauces to warp it, cover it or mask it. You have to serve it completely naked. You are standing completely naked in front of your plate, in front of your audience.”
Shani explained that, with each new restaurant he opens, he visits each location and tries “to get some signals.”
“I can feel the environment, I see my team, I’m looking at the architecture, absorbing the atmosphere, the energy, the vibe of the place,” he told the New York Jewish Week. “It’s like a new ingredient coming to me and something inside myself assembling [assembles] them into the shape of a new restaurant.”
Shani says he immerses himself fully into the process of opening a new place. “I’m there and all the outer world disappears, all the noises are cut and I’m completely focused on one thing, and that is the only thing that exists in my life.”
And the new places keep coming: Since 2021, Shani has opened restaurants in Toronto, London, Miami and Boston, and, most recently, Dubai. Currently in the works are expansions to Amsterdam, Mexico City, Barcelona and Zurich, and two more New York eateries are also coming soon: a Miznon outpost uptown at 2895 Broadway, near Columbia University, as well as a “gastro bar” called Port Said, which is slated to open at 350 Hudson St. this summer.
“When you are establishing a restaurant you cannot change it anymore — it’s got its own character,” he said. “Because I’m changing all the time, I’m opening restaurants all the time.”
As for the recent Michelin nod, even though it was for a New York-based restaurant, Shani said it was “one of the most wonderful things that can happen for Israel,” as it will continue to enhance the country’s reputation as a culinary destination.
“Israeli cuisine started 70 years ago — it began without roots in any tradition,” he said. “Nothing is shaping them besides their ideas and imagination. Israelis are importing ideas and then shaping them in their own way, and that makes the cuisine so special.”
Shani is not shy about the impact he has made when it comes to introducing Israeli food to the world. “I’m the godfather of Israeli cuisine,” he said. “The main structure of Israeli food was built by me.”
Ultimately, no matter the price point or location of his various restaurants, Shani believes his food brings people joy. “I think it’s about giving happiness to people, he said. “That is my cuisine.”
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The post With his New York restaurant, Shmoné, Israeli chef Eyal Shani earns his first Michelin nod appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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The ‘Seinfeld’ cast reunites (but not really) to address Israel’s elections
Jerry Seinfeld, Elaine Benes, George Costanza and Cosmo Kramer are weighing in on next week’s Israeli elections.
AI deepfakes of them, that is, who appear in a new, three-minute clip, looking and sounding almost exactly like they did on the classic TV show.
But unlike the torrent of noxious fakes from Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his allies, this one is a force for good: smart satire that captures the urgency of this moment for Israeli democracy, and the hope and anxiety bubbling up among all those who fear for it, including me.
Researchers at the Open University of Israel’s “Ze Be AI” project have identified thousands of AI-generated posts by Israeli parties and politicians, with Netanyahu’s Likud responsible for more than any other.
For example, Netanyahu posted an AI ad showing Gadi Eisenkot, his chief political rival, shunning a young man resembling Eisenkot’s son Gal, killed in Gaza, to instead embrace Arab leader Mansour Abbas. National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir shared an AI video depicting emaciated Palestinians in what looks like a concentration camp. Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich’s party circulated AI scenes of Israel’s Supreme Court president and attorney general being dragged through burning streets.
These videos put real people in scenes that never happened. They depict violence and turbocharge hatred against Arab citizens of Israel and Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza. They are designed to mislead and incite, many times with no disclosure to viewers that what they are watching is fake.
The Seinfeld clip is different.
In it, Jerry, Elaine, George and Kramer sit around their diner booth discussing Elaine’s latest boyfriend — who happens to be a big fan of Bibi.
“Elaine, you can’t rule a guy out just because he’s pro-corruption, the establishment of a messianic dictatorship, and dismantling the only Jewish state in the world,” says Kramer.
When Elaine balks at voting, Jerry tries reverse psychology: “Don’t vote, Elaine. Fine by me. But later, when the dictatorship starts, don’t come crying to us.”
The group rattles off the complaints they predict are imminent. Some are absurd: “Why can I only ride on a kosher bike?” Others describe what Israel is already becoming: “Why can’t I say what I think?” “Why is everyone relocating? Why are there no doctors?”
Elaine relents — “I’ll vote, you nudniks” — but when Jerry mentions the date of the elections, it turns out Elaine won’t be in the country. She’ll be in Berlin, at a conference.
The topic? The collapse of Western democracies.
All of this is classic Seinfeld: Kramer’s grandiose pronouncements, the petty grievances, the ironic twist with the Berlin conference.
Yes, it’s a deepfake of beloved characters. The lack of an AI label for the entire duration of the clip may violate Israeli election rules. A caption toward the end implores Israelis, “You Have a Country to Save. Move Your Tuches. Go Vote,” but omits the creator. More transparency would have been better.
But no one watching is meant to think Kramer has views on Israeli coalition politics. These are characters from a decades-old show talking about Israeli elections today. It includes an explicit note that it’s satire. And whereas the Israeli right’s videos depict things that didn’t happen, the references in the clip to crackdowns on speech and mass emigration are all verifiable.
Though no creator for the Seinfeld video is formally listed, it resembles the work of Hagai Lapid, a Tel Aviv–based director and comedy writer who previously spent 14 years at Keshet 12, Israel’s most-watched TV channel, and co-created a string of mockumentaries and wrote for the satirical puppet show Chartzufim. At least one Facebook post credits Lapid as the Seinfeld clip’s creator. Lapid recently posted a viral AI deepfake of British actor Gary Oldman, in character as Jackson Lamb from Apple TV’s Slow Horses, urging Israelis to vote.
Both the Slow Horses video and the Seinfeld clip feel different from AI slop flooding the web because the scripts are well-written and use levity as a lead-in to more serious claims and demands. They can flit across WhatsApp groups and social media in a way that no stern warning about authoritarianism can.
The entire election may hinge on a few votes. Tens of thousands of Israeli expats are planning to fly back to head to the polls. As they prepare to travel to Israel, friends who live there are planning moves abroad should the election leave the far right in power. The Seinfeld clip is aimed at all of these voters.
Seinfeld has been famously described as a “show about nothing,” less a verdict on its quality and more a nod to the way the show finds depth in the mundane. Larry David, Seinfeld’s co-creator, had a core rule : “No hugging, no learning.” Seinfeld’s characters were written to be self-interested, oblivious to the impact they have on the world around them.
This clip violates that rule. It is a call to action, delivered with the best of Jewish gallows humor, the kind that laughs as it sees the axe that may fall, but contains a seed of hope that things may just yet go the other way. Towards the end, a fictional Jerry breaks the fourth wall to plead with the audience:
“What you just saw was satire. Obviously, we don’t vote in Israeli elections. But you Israelis, if you don’t want to turn into a Jewish version of Iran, or collapse and vanish like Nokia or Crocs, all you have to do is move your tuches off your couch and go vote.”
The post The ‘Seinfeld’ cast reunites (but not really) to address Israel’s elections appeared first on The Forward.
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The latest issue of the Hasidic magazine ‘Chvalyes’ discusses psychedelic drugs
ערגעץ װוּ אױף דער ייִדישער װעלט, אָדער דער ייִדיש־װעלט, דאַרף זיך געפֿינען אַ פֿאָרשער װאָס זאָל זיך אָפּגעבן מיט דער נײַער געשיכטע פֿון דער חסידישער ליטעראַטור, בפֿרט מיט אירע עליות און ירידות, די פּערזענלעכקײטן און אַנשטאַלטן.
אַ נײַע און פֿאַרכאַפּנדיקע חסידישע אױסגאַבע איז תּמיד אַ סיבה זיך צו אַנגזאַזשירן מיט דער דאָזיקער געשיכטע, צו פֿאַרשטײן פֿאַר װאָס ס׳איז כּדאַי דאָס צו לײענען מיט קאָפּ.
טאַקע דערפֿאַר וועל איך הײַנט שרײַבן וועגן „כוואַליעס“ — אַ נײַעם זשורנאַל, וואָס איך האָב הײַיאָר מיטגענומען אין שיל אַרײַן װי לײענװאַרג בעת די לאַנגע יום־טובֿ־דרשות.
ס׳איז פֿאַראַן אַזאַ סטערעאָטיפּ בײַ ייִדישיסטן (און מיט דעם בין איך אױסן נישט־חסידישע ייִדיש־רעדערס און ליבהאָבערס פֿון ייִדיש), אַז חסידיש ייִדיש האָט נאָר צו טאָן מיט גאָר פֿרומע זאַכן, נאָר טעמעס װאָס גוטע פֿרומע לײַט װאָלטן אָנגענומען.
ס׳איז אָבער נישט אַזױ. דורך די אַלע גילגולים פֿון דער אַמעריקאַנער חסידישער ליטעראַטור — זאָל זײַן בלאָגס, װעבזײַטלעך (צום בײַשפּיל „אײַװעלט“ אָדער דער שױן אונטערגעגאַנגענער „קאַװע־שטיבעל“), אָדער אין אַ רײ קורציאָריקע אָבער דאָך לעבעדיקע זשורנאַלן — איז דער אינטערעסאַנטסטער אינהאַלט, לױט מײַן מיינונג, נישט די עסײען װעגן דער חסידישער געשיכטע, אָדער מעשׂיות פֿון צדיקים און רביים, נאָר דװקא די גבֿית־עדותן פֿון טאָגטעגלעכע קאָנפֿליקטן.
געװען אַ מאָל „װעקער“ (דאָרט האָב איך אָפּגעדרוקט אַ פּאָר שטיקלעך, װאָס דאָס איז אַלײן אַ סימן פֿון אָפֿנקײט — װי אָפֿט לײענען די ייִדישיסטן און די חסידים אײנער דעם צװײטן?), און דערנאָך איז מען אַריבער אױף אַ נײַער פּובליקאַציע, „כװאַליעס“.
סײַ „װעקער“ סײַ „קאַװע שטיבעל“ זײַנען צום באַדויערן מער נישטאָ — דאַכט זיך, מער צוליב פֿינאַנציעלע װי אידעאָלאָגישע סיבות. אַ דאַנק דער מי, און מסתּמא דעם כּוח־הגעלטשאַפֿונג פֿון דער רעדאַקציע, האָט מען אָבער שױן אַרױסגעגעבן העכער אַ טוץ נומערן פֿון „כװאַליעס,“ װאָס איך דערלױב זיך צו זאָגן איז פּראָסט־פּשוט אַ גילגול פֿון „דער װעקער.“
דער נײַער נומער איז אָבער באַזונדערש רײַך און כּדאַי אָנצוקוקן צוליב דעם פֿענצטערל, װאָס ער עפֿנט אױף אין דער חסידישער װעלט אַרײַן. און דװקא אַ פֿענצטערל װאָס װײַזט די טײלן פֿון דער געזעלשאַפֿט װאָס אַ סך װילן, זײ זאָלן בלײַבן באַהאַלטן. װי די רעדאַקציע „כװאַליעס“ באַשרײַבט זײער צײַטשריפֿט, דינט זי ווי אַ פּלאַטפֿאָרמע פֿאַר מאַטעריאַלן „װאָס האָבן נישט קײן געהעריגן פּלאַץ אין די אַלגעמײנע אױסגאַבעס אױף די פּאָליצעס פֿון די הײמישע געשעפֿטן.“
ספּעציעל טשיקאַװע איז די טעמע װאָס פֿאַרנעמט דעם אױבן־אָן פֿון דער איצטיקער פֿילפֿאַרביקער הילע: „סײַקעדעליקס,“ דאָס הײסט, דער באַנוץ פֿון פּסיכעדעלישע סובסאַנצן אין די היימישע קרײַזן און זײער װירקונג אױפֿן יחיד און כּלל.
זיכער, װי אַ דאָקטער און אַ מענטש װאָס איז מער װײניקער באַקאַנט מיט דער הױפּטשטראָמיקער גױיִשער אַמעריקאַנער קולטור, האָב איך געװוּסט אַז די דאָזיקע בשׂמים, צום בײַשפּיל אײַאַהואַסקאַ, קעטאַמין, פּסילאָסײַבין, און אַזױ װײַטער, זײַנען געשטיגן אין פּאָפּולעריטעט. נאָר אַז זײ האָבן אױך אַרײַנגעדרונגען אין בתּי־מדרשים, בײַ רבישע משפּחות און גבֿירישע בעלי־בתּים, װי אױך פּאָרפֿעלקער און סתּם חסידים מיט כּלערלײ פֿאַרלאַנגען און פּראָבלעמען – דאָס האָב איך נישט געװוּסט.
אין דעם עפֿענונג־אַרטיקל װאָס דינט װי אַן אַרײַנפֿיר אין דער טעמע, װערט קלאָר װי פֿאַרשפּרייט ס׳איז שױן געװאָרן די דאָזיקע „סחורה.“ „װער האָט מעדיצין?“ פֿרעגט אײנעם בײַ א שבת־טיש. אַ צװײטער זאָגט אַז ער האָט קעטאַמין, נאָר דער װאָס האָט געבעטן די „מעדיצין,“ באַשרײַבט װײַטער דער מחבר פֿון אַרטיקל, „שטעלט קלאָר אַז ער זוכט דװקא שװעמלעך. עס נעמט נאָך אַ סעקונדע ביז אַ צװײטע ברענגט אַפֿיר די געװוּנטשענע ׳מעדיצין׳, װאָס װערט געגעסן בײַם שבת טיש װי דער אַפֿיקומן בײַם סדר.“
װי אַזױ איז מען געקומען צו דעם? מע פּרוּװט באַקענען דעם לײענער אױף אײן פֿוס מיט דער געשיכטע פֿון פּסיכעדעלקס. עס װערט ברײט באַהאַנדלט די אַמעריקאַנער געשיכטע פֿון דער יוגנט-קולטור בשעת די 1960ער יאָרן און אירע פֿאַרבינדונגען מיט פֿאַרשײדענע סובסטאַנצן װאָס „ענדערן“ דעם מוח, װי אױך מעגלעכע פּאַראַלעלן צװישן יענער היפּי־װעלט פֿון געזעלשאַפֿטלעכן אױפֿברױז און דער הײַנטיקער װעלט פֿון כעמיש־נײַגעריקע חסידים.
נישט דאָס װערט דערזאָגט, נאָר די דאָזיקע װעלט איז אױך אין מיטן פֿון אַ רײ לאַנג־טערמיניקע און טיף־גרײכיקע בײַטענישן, און דער דאָזיקער סובסטאַנצן־באַנוץ איז זיכער טײלװײַז געװירקט דערפֿון. אײן קעפּל אין דעם אַרטיקל פֿון דער געשיכטע פֿון פּסיכעדעליקס שטעלט אַפֿילו די פֿראַגע, „צי זעכציג־ט זיך יעצט אין דער הײמישער װעלט?“ דאָס הײסט, צי זײַנען הײַנטיקע הסידים געװירקט פֿון יענע פֿאַרטשאַדעטע יאָרן פֿון דער אַמעריקאַנער יוגנט אין די 1960ער?
שטעקט אפֿשר דער גרעסטער חידוש אין דעם, װי אַזױ די שרײַבערס פֿון די אַרטיקלען אױף דער דאָזיקער טעמע טרעטן אַרױס צו זאָגן אַז דעם נושׂא באַהאַנדלט מען אין דעם נומער װײַל די אָנפֿירערס פֿון זײער קהילה גיבן זיך נישט אָפּ דערמיט. מוטיק, נאָר אױך אונטער פּסעװדאָנימען….און אַרױסברענגען די דאָזיקע פֿראַגעס װיל מען אױף אַ געמאָסטענעם, נישט קאָנטראָװערסיעלן אופֿן. װי עס זאָגן די רעדאַקטאָרן, „מיר זענען נישט דאָ צו טױשן קײנעם אָדער צו שטופּן אַגענדעס.“
דער רעשט פֿון דעם פֿעטן נומער איז אָבער אױך װיכטיק. עס נעמט אַרײַן אַן אַרטיקל פֿון אַ חסידיתטע מיטן פּסעוודאָנים „אשת חבֿר“, אונטערן טיטל „אַ פֿעמיניסטקע װאַקסט אין ברוקלין“. די פֿרוי גײט אַדורך אַ קריזיס פֿון אמונה װאָס װערט באַאײַנפֿלוסט אָבער נישט געלײזט פֿון די װערק פֿון מאָדערן־פֿרומע ייִדישע פֿרױען, װאָס האָבן קריטיקרט אױף אַן ענלעכן אופֿן די ייִדישע פּאַטריאַרכיע.
„איך האָב טועם געװען דעם סאָרט אָפֿענעם דזשודאַיִזם,“ שרײַבט „אשת חבֿר“, „און נישט געטראָפֿן דאָרט אידישקײט. מײַן באַשעפֿער האָט אַ חסידישן אַקצענט.“ לסוף באַשליסט זי, אז אפֿשר מוז זי אַלײן אָנשרײַבן אַ בוך װעגן אירע קאָנפֿליקטן. „אױב איז דאָ אַ בוך װאָס דו װילסט לײענען אָבער עס איז נאָכנישט געשריבן געװאָרן, דאַן מוזטו עס אַלײן שרײַבן.“
אַ לענגערע עסײ, ממש אַ מאַמר, פֿון באַװוּסטן שרײַבער קטלא קניא גיט זיך אָפּ מיט דער טעמע פֿון ייִדישן חינוך — נאָך אַ בײַשפּיל פֿון אַ טיפֿזיניקער און שאַרפֿער קריטיק װאָס צילט דװקא אױף די סאַמע יסודות פֿון חסידישן לעבן־שטייגער. דער מחבר פּרוּװט האַלטן דעם באַלאַנס צװישן מוטיקן דעם בחור צו װעמען ער שרײַבט, און אים „טראָסטן“ (װי עס זאָגן די חסידים) אַלײן צו געפֿינען זײַן װעג אין לעבן. „דאָרט איז דיר איצט באַשערט צו זײַן און װען די צײַט װעט קומען װעסטו דאַרפֿן מוזן אַלײן אַרױסקריכן און אױסװאַקסן.“
(אין 2018 האָט קטלא קניא אַרױסגעגעבן אַ גאַנץ בוך וועגן דער דאָזיקער טעמע.דער עסײ אין „כװאַליעס“ איז אַנדערש, געוואָנדן צו אַ יונגן בחור אין ערשטן פּערזאָן, און פֿאָרט איז דאָס אַ באַװײַז, אַז די פֿאַרמאַכטקײט פֿון חינוך איז פֿאַרבליבן אַן אַקטועלע טעמע, װאָס שטערט דעם שרײַבער.)
אַרױסהײבן דאַרף מען אױך אַ ליד װאָס באַשרײַבט אַ פּרטימדיק, און זײער מענטשיש, בילד פֿון דעם רבונו של עולם אַלײן. דער דאָזיקער כּבֿיכול איז „אינספּײַערד“ (אינספּירירט), זאָגט דער פּאָעט, „בײַ משה רבני, אָבאַמאַ, און דשאַן נאַש.“ ער „שמײכלט מיסטעריעז, מאָנאַ ליזאַ.“ כאָטש ער איז אוניװערסאַל, האָט ער דאָך אַ „סאָפֿט ספּאָט פֿאַר זײַן אידיש פֿאָלק.“ פֿירט אױס דער דיכטער, „שמע ישׂראל – דער װאָן ענד אָנלי, ה׳ אחד!“
צװײ באַמערקונגען פּאַסן דאָ װי אַן אױספֿיר. ראשית-כּל, אַז מע האָט געשאַפֿן די נײיטיקע געלטגעבערס פֿאַר אַזאַ נומער איז אַלײן אַ סימן אַז אַן אױסגאַבע פֿאַר אמתער ליטעראַטור, װאָס מע פֿלעגט רופֿן אין אונדזער קרײַזן אַ „ליטעראַרישע געזעלשאַפֿטלעכע צײַטשריפֿט“ איז יאָ פֿאַראַן, זײַט בײַ זײַט מיט די גאָר פֿרומע אָפֿיצעלע אָרגאַנען, שבת־בלעטער, און הײמזשורנאַלן. (מסתּמא נעמען יענע אַרײַן אױך גוטע ליטעראַטור; איך בין פּשוט װײניק באַקאַנט מיט זײ.)
און לסוף, דאַרף איך מודה זײַן אַז ס׳איז אַ מחיה צו לײענען אַ זשורנאַל פֿון ייִדן, װאָס איז נישט 100% אָפּגעגעבן ישׂראל אָדער פּאַלעסטינע. זײַט װיסן אַז יענע טעמע איז מיר לעבנס־װיכטיק, און פֿאָרט, װערט אָפֿט מאָל אױסגעשעפּט יעדן ביסל שאַפֿערישער כּוח פֿון דער דאָזיקער הײסער טעמע.
דעם דאָזיקן זשורנאַל און זײַנע שרײַבערס פֿעלט נישט קײן כּוח, דאַכט זיך. איך קוק אַרױס צו לײענען די קומעדיקע נומערן.
The post The latest issue of the Hasidic magazine ‘Chvalyes’ discusses psychedelic drugs appeared first on The Forward.
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Watch: The cattle farmer building a synagogue in a cornfield
For the past year and a half, we’ve followed Nik Jakobs, a third-generation cattle farmer in Sterling, Illinois, who is building a synagogue in a two-acre cornfield. Alongside it, he is also building a museum of tolerance.
Our coverage began when Nik traveled 600 miles to rescue the ark, bimah and stained glass from a closing congregation in Pennsylvania. After we published our first story about the unlikely journey, additional synagogues began donating their own sacred objects, each from a community that could no longer keep them.
Nik, 41, is the grandson of Holocaust survivors, and the museum is his way of teaching the tolerance that saved his family. His grandmother, Edith, was 11 in 1942 when a Lutheran farmer named Willem Drenth offered the family’s home as a hiding place. She was one of 13 Jews who lived in that single room for two years and eight months, with no electricity and no running water. About a hundred villagers knew about the Jews in hiding. No one said a word.
While in hiding, Edith kept busy by learning to knit. She embroidered a cloth, which survived and will now cover the Torah in Nik’s new synagogue.
This spring, Nik and his family traveled to the Netherlands, where the village staged a play about the family in hiding and the Drenths. They watched actors portray their ancestors, and the Christians who kept their family alive.
Edith died this month at 95. Her voice, trained to a whisper in hiding, never regained its full volume. Her story did.
That story is now drawing others in. The Anne Frank House donates one sapling a year, grown from the chestnut tree Anne saw from her attic hiding place. It has chosen the Illinois synagogue and museum to plant its next one. After visiting Anne’s house with his four daughters, Nik put it this way: “Anne’s story ends. My grandmother’s didn’t.”
Nik and his family broke ground on the sanctuary this spring, on land beside a Lutheran church — the same faith as the farmer who saved his family.
If all goes as planned, the doors open in late 2027. They hope the first service will be the bat mitzvah of Nik’s oldest daughter, Taylor. The pews will hold the congregants of the closing synagogues whose ark, Torah and windows helped build the room, there to see their old homes live again.
Catch up on all of our stories about Nik Jakobs.
The post Watch: The cattle farmer building a synagogue in a cornfield appeared first on The Forward.
