Uncategorized
With ‘Let It Be Morning’ and ‘Cinema Sabaya,’ Israeli filmmakers are winning awards for portraying Palestinian stories
(JTA) — Years ago, the Israeli filmmaker Orit Fouks Rotem took a class led by director Eran Kolirin, best known as the maker of “The Band’s Visit.” This month, movies by both filmmakers are getting theatrical rollouts in the United States.
On a recent Zoom call, Palestinian author Sayed Kashua joked: “Was that his class — how to use a Palestinian story?”
Kashua was smiling on Zoom as he said it — he is, after all, known for his often fatalistic sense of humor, particularly when it comes to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. And the author had given his blessing for Kolirin to make an adaptation of his novel “Let It Be Morning,” and said he loved the final result.
But like most jokes, this one had a kernel of truth: Israel’s two most recent Oscar submissions, hitting New York’s Quad Cinema within a week of each other, both — to varying degrees — tell Palestinian stories.
“Let It Be Morning” is a dark comedy about an Arab Israeli village that has suddenly and with no explanation been cordoned off from the rest of the country by the Israeli military. This event forces its Palestinian residents, including a protagonist trying to return to his comfortable middle-class life in Jerusalem, to reckon with how their dignity as citizens has been denied to them by the mechanisms of the Israeli occupation. At the Quad, the film is accompanied by a retrospective of Kolirin’s work, including “The Band’s Visit,” the basis for the Tony Award-winning musical; the retrospective is sponsored by the Israeli consulate in New York.
The all-female cast of “Cinema Sabaya,” a mix of Jewish and Arab actresses, in a film directed by Orit Fouks Rotem. (Courtesy of Kino Lorber)
The following week will see the opening of Rotem’s film, “Cinema Sabaya.” It follows a group of eight women, some Jewish and some Arab and Palestinian, who bond with each other while taking a filmmaking class in a community center in the Israeli city of Hadera. Cast member Dana Ivgy, who plays the class’s instructor, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that the filming experience “felt like how living in Israel should feel,” adding, “We have more women in the film than in the Israeli government.”
Stylistically, the two films couldn’t be more different. “Let It Be Morning” is a tightly plotted narrative with boldly realized characters; almost all of its dialogue is in Arabic. “Cinema Sabaya” is a loose, heavily improvisational piece that is almost entirely set in one room, and is mostly in Hebrew (although in one tense early scene, the characters debate whether to conduct their class in Hebrew or Arabic). One is a dry, Kafkaesque satire; the other is an intimate, naturalistic drama.
But together, the films provide a snapshot of the delicate dance Israeli filmmakers must perform in the current climate. On the one hand, these art-house directors are being feted on the international stage for their empathetic storytelling that incorporates or even centers entirely on Palestinian characters. But on the other, they’re being attacked by government officials for their perceived insufficient loyalty — and their films’ very status as “Israeli” is being questioned, too, sometimes by their own cast and crew.
“Everyone can call it what they want,” Rotem said of her film. “I’m an Israeli and it’s in Israel, but I have partners who call themselves Palestinians, and some of them call themselves Arabs, and each one defined herself. I think it’s really how it should be.”
“A film does not have an identity,” Kolirin insisted in an interview with JTA. “It is a citizen of the screen.”
Eran Kolirin accepted the award for Best Director for “Let It Be Morning” at the 2021 Ophir Awards in Tel Aviv on October 5, 2021. (Tomer Neuberg/ Flash90)
Kolirin isn’t a fan of the label “Israeli film” in this case, even though that is how “Let It Be Morning” was categorized at its 2021 Cannes Film Festival premiere; its own press notes also list Israel as the “country of production.” That Cannes screening took place shortly after Israel’s deadly conflict with Hamas that killed more than 250 Palestinians in the Gaza Strip and around a dozen Israelis. The events turned Cannes into a political firestorm when the film’s Palestinian cast refused to attend the premiere.
“We cannot ignore the contradiction of the film’s entry into Cannes under the label of an ‘Israeli film’ when Israel continues to carry its decades-long colonial campaign of ethnic cleansing, expulsion, and apartheid against us — the Palestinian people,” the cast’s statement read in part.
“Each time the film industry assumes that we and our work fall under the ethno-national label of ‘Israeli,’ it further perpetuates an unacceptable reality that imposes on us, Palestinian artists with Israeli citizenship,” the statement continues, calling on “international artistic and cultural institutions” to “amplify the voices of Palestinian artists and creatives.”
Kolirin himself supported the cast’s action. He knew they were grieving over the outbreak of violence in Gaza and didn’t want to put themselves in a situation where “some politician is going to wave a flag over their head or whatever.”
What’s more, he said, the status of “Let It Be Morning” as an “Israeli” film, despite the fact that around half the crew was Palestinian, was not his decision: “The film was not submitted to Cannes as an Israeli film,” he said. “You know, you fill in the form: ‘Which were the countries that gave money?’” In this case, the answer was Israel and France.
Most of the cast later did not attend the Ophir Awards ceremony, Israel’s equivalent to the Oscars voted on by its filmmaking academy, where “Morning” won the top prize (which automatically made it Israel’s Oscar submission for that year). In solidarity at the awards, Kolirin read aloud a statement from his lead actress, Juna Suleiman, decrying Israel’s “active efforts to erase Palestinian identity” and what she called “ethnic cleansing.”
Orit Fouks Rotem (Courtesy of Kino Lorber)
“Cinema Sabaya” hasn’t played host to as much offscreen controversy, but its vision of Israeli multiculturalism is still inherently political. Rotem’s mother is a local government adviser on women’s issues in Hadera, and the film was inspired by her experience participating in a photography class designed to unite Jewish and Arab women. Rotem herself later led filmmaking classes in a similar vein as research for “Sabaya.”
In the film, Ivgy’s character, who is modeled on Rotem, instructs her class to film their home lives, while secretly hoping to make a movie from their efforts. When her desire to do so is revealed, the women in the class feel betrayed: They thought they were just making films for themselves, not for their stories to be told by someone else.
Similarly, Rotem said that working with Arab and Palestinian actresses made her “aware to the fact that I can’t really tell their story.” Her solution was to allow the performers — some of whom are well-known activists who had to think twice about appearing in an Israeli movie — to voice their own opinions, and to establish the necessary trust to allow them to be unscripted on camera.
She theorizes that “Cinema Sabaya” has been so well received in Israel because “it doesn’t say ‘occupation, occupation, occupation.’ It says ‘humanity,’ so people are less afraid.” (She also noted that, in real life, the women who attended her filmmaking classes bristled at her initial suggestion to make a documentary about them, telling her to fictionalize their stories instead — which she did.)
Lately the Israeli government has a tendency to view its filmmaking class as agitators unworthy of national support, particularly when they make films criticizing the occupation. Former Culture Minister Miri Regev often disparaged films she thought were bad for Israel, including celebrated international hits such as “Foxtrot” and “Synonyms.” Her current successor, Miki Zohar, has already threatened the makers of a new documentary about the West Bank city of Hebron, saying the movie smears the military and that the directors might have to return government funds.
In recent years, Israel’s culture ministry has pushed two new controversial proposals: a grant program earmarked for those who make films in settlements, which are considered illegal under international law; and a form pledging not to make films “offensive” to Israel or the military that filmmakers would be required to sign in order to apply for certain grants, which many directors have likened to a loyalty oath. For years, some of the country’s largest grantmakers have required applicants to sign a form promising to represent their projects as Israeli on the national stage.
There has also been an effort among some members of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s new right-wing government to end funding to public broadcaster Kan, which the country’s film industry views as another attack on its free expression.
“Kan has all this dialogue,” Ivgy said. “It has Jewish and religious and Arab and Palestinian, for kids and for grownups. And nothing is taboo there. I feel that it’s very dangerous to close that option down.”
Many Israeli filmmakers are fighting back. Hundreds, including Kolirin and Rotem, have refused to sign the ministry’s pledge, and many have also protested the settlement grant program. Nadav Lapid, one of the country’s most celebrated and outspoken directors, harshly critiqued government restrictions placed on his own work in the 2021 drama “Ahed’s Knee,” which went on to win a special prize at Cannes.
Kolirin said he had recently been on a call with several Israeli filmmakers looking to further organize against artistic restrictions, and that it had given him hope. “I had this feeling of some optimism, which I didn’t have for a long time,” he said. But he didn’t mince words when discussing Israel’s new governing coalition, which he likened to “a circus of mad dogs unleashed.”
Rotem said that the current government is “very, very bad and scary,” but that it has only strengthened her resolve to make political films.
“For me, it’s also political to show women in Israel in a deep way: I mean Arabs and Jews,” she said. “Because I don’t think there are enough films that are doing that.”
For Kashua, a veteran TV writer and opinion columnist, the question of identity in Israeli and Palestinian filmmaking is even more pronounced. After a long career of trying to write about the Palestinian experience in Hebrew as a way of reaching Israelis, he left Israel for the United States in 2014, becoming discouraged by an incident in which Jewish extremists burned a Palestinian teenager alive as revenge after Palestinian terrorists kidnapped Israeli soldiers. Now based in St. Louis, he has worked as a writer and story editor on Israeli series that center on both Palestinian and Jewish stories — including the global hit “Shtisel,” which focuses on haredi Orthodox Jews, and its upcoming spinoff, along with “Madrasa,” a young-adult series about a bilingual Hebrew-Arabic school.
Israeli filmmakers choosing to center Palestinian stories can be its own radical political act, Kashua believes. He noted that the dialogue in “Morning” is almost entirely in Arabic, a language that Israel demoted from national language status in 2018 — doubly ironic as he had deliberately chosen to write his original novel in Hebrew.
“The idea that this film is ‘Israeli’ — it really contradicts the idea of Israel being a purely Jewish state,” Kashua said. He added that, while he had initially hoped a Palestinian director might have adapted his novel, he was ultimately happy with Kolirin’s approach.
“I truly love the movie, and it’s barely Orientalist,” he joked, echoing Palestinian-American intellectual Edward Said’s famous book about how a Western lens on Eastern cultures can be reductive and harmful. “Which is a big achievement for an Israeli filmmaker.”
—
The post With ‘Let It Be Morning’ and ‘Cinema Sabaya,’ Israeli filmmakers are winning awards for portraying Palestinian stories 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.”