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Reflections on the first yahrzeit of Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz – The Jerusalem Post

Posted By on August 13, 2021

My father is still alive I can hear his voice in his books and videos. Thats precisely how he wanted to be remembered not by eulogies or speeches, but by regular people learning from his works, says his eldest son and CEO of the Steinsaltz Center in Jerusalem, Rabbi Menachem Meni Even-Israel.

Steinsaltz was awarded the Israel Prize in 1988, for producing his masterpiece a translation and commentary on the Babylonian Talmud. His Talmud The Steinsaltz Edition was a pioneering work and made the Talmud accessible to the masses.

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In 2012, Steinsaltz was awarded the National Jewish Book Award by the Jewish Book Council for his commentary, translation, and notes in the Koren Babylonian Talmud. He also received the Presidents Medal in 2012, for his contribution to the study of the Talmud, and the Yakir Yerushalayim prize in 2017, for his writing and translation work.

My father had an eclectic ability to bring together a vast range of sources - both Jewish and non-Jewish - from archaeology and science, to history and technology - in one tapestry and impart an intellectual and moral message, says Meni.

He was a devout chassid (disciple) of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, but he had his own views which were different to the Rebbe. They did have a similar goal though that of bringing G-d and Torah closer to all people not just Jews.

When asked what he thought his fathers legacy was, Meni, is quite clear: To take the Jewish canon Talmud and the Bible and make it accessible and interesting to ordinary people. He used modern, scientific language which helped all religious and secular and non-Jews discover the beauty of authentic Judaism through texts like he had done himself in his youth.

My father was deeply pained by the reality that Jews were indifferent to Jewish life. He wanted to make Judaism meaningful and believed this can only be done through engaging with the original texts. My father never said, Keep all the mitzvot to people. He believed that Jewish knowledge was the most important thing and performing mitzvot was the natural result.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe, believed that being Jewish is about keeping mitzvot about doing. For Rabbi Steinsaltz, being Jewish was about being connected to your past through text. He saw his role as to bring the Jewish bookshelf back to its rightful owners the Jewish people, says Meni.

Like Rabbi Sacks, Rabbi Steinsaltz wanted to take Judaism to the streets, using the language of the layman. Rabbi Sacks was in his own league in how articulate he was and making the non-Jewish world approach Judaism with respect and awe, observes Meni. My father and Rabbi Sacks had the same goal to take Judaism out of the hands of the learned and elite and make it relevant and engaging for the masses - to the public forum.

Both of their missions were charged by the Lubavitcher Rebbes vigilance, persistence and love for the Jewish people. Both of their deaths were far too soon and they were both involved in multiple projects at the time of their deaths. They were both selfless Jewish intellectuals and leaders they actually met when Rabbi Sacks was studying in Oxford and from then stayed in touch throughout their professional careers.

Practically what is the Steinsaltz Center doing to continue his legacy?

Firstly, Meni says, they are focusing on publishing his 80 books he left and disseminating his thought and knowledge through a new app and social media.

Since Rabbi Steinsaltzs death, there has been a proliferation of his books being published, in Hebrew, English and French. They plan to continue to publish two books per year, as well as starting to produce the new edition of the Talmud in French. The first volume of Rabbi Steinsaltzs commentary on the Tanya (early work of hasidic philosophy) is coming out in French to mark his first yahrzeit.

The app that is already available to download and is free - will be formally launched in September. It has all of Rabbi Steinsaltzs teaching and interpretations on from Talmud and Bible to Maimonidies and Jewish ideas and theology.

The Steinsaltz Center has a very active Instagram, Facebook and Twitter accounts sharing his quotes, video-clips, PDFs and articles using social media to reach as many people as possible.

Steinsaltz left over 10,000 hours of audio and 5,000 hours of videos. They plan on uploading them all to their website and app.

The Steinsaltz Center have established the Shalhevet program an international program where over 120 students in the Tekoa hesder yeshiva in Gush Etzion, learn online, on Zoom, Skype or telephone, with students from all around the world. They learn a whole spectrum of texts, all based on Steinsaltzs work from Talmud and Bible to Mishna and Jewish thought.

In English, the Erez series a set of five books, was Steinsaltzs concise guide to Judaism. A collection of the best of our Jewish wisdom and Halacha.

Also, a Hebrew collection of the hasidic talks he gave throughout the year and quotations will be available for the chagim with stunning pictures. The hope is that this book with also be translated into English.

For the yahrzeit itself, there will be a special 24-hour Mishna learning program connecting Jews all around the globe. From Rabbi Levi Woolf in Melbourne to Rabbi Yitzchak Mishna in Brazil, Jews will be learning Mishna from downloaded from their new app.

Is Rabbi Steinsaltz replaceable?

Meni says in one word no.

However, Meni continues, We can continue his legacy by reading his works and connecting with his ideas and thoughts. His philosophy was, Ill give you the keys you take responsibility and run with it. He did that in Yeshivat Tekoa (in the Gush Etzion, on the outskirts of Jerusalem.) He gave Rabbi Zinger the keys and he created an empire.

There are not enough superlatives to describe Rabbi Steinsaltz or what hes done for the Jewish world (though many have been used). He was said to have been a modern-day Rashi; that would be true, had Rashi also translated, written books, founded schools, lectured to vast audiences, and gone round the world helping Jewish communities.

Fine adds, Rabbi Steinsaltzs contribution is immeasurable. A year after his death, were still very far from understanding the magnitude of his legacy. It may take generations to fully appreciate it. For now, we can simply be grateful that we got to live in the shadow of this towering giant of Torah.

The Jerusalem Report also spoke with Meir Klein, former editor at the Steinsaltz Tenach commentary project, currently writing a dissertation on Rabbi Steinsaltz.

Rabbi Steinsaltz believed that if you were Jewish he was interested in you that every Jew has an equal share in our common inheritance. The basis for change was learning. He was determined to battle ignorance, as his lifelong project was making the sources of Judaism and particularly the Talmud, accessible to all, says Klein.

Steinsaltz was a complex man, Klein believes. He was influenced in his youth by the communist revolution and longed for a new hasidic revolution. On the other hand, he recognized that meaningful change took time and dedicated his life to promoting a Jewish renaissance. Without giving up on the dreams of his youth, he focused on the realistic, step-by-step approach and engineer change that way.

He was extraordinarily devoted to his work - the results of which speak for themselves. His books have become an entrance gate to Judaism for many, and a mobile teacher as he put it for many others.

The goal was affecting people and bringing them closer to Judaism. He wanted people to live a new kind of Jewish life, full of passion and emotion, relevant and contemporary, but also authentic and faithful to tradition, innovative but committed to traditional practices, rooted in foundations of Jewish knowledge and at the same time instrumental in creating a more functional and moral society, says Klein.

Klein believes Steinsaltz had a decisive influence on many trends of contemporary Judaism, from the teshuvah (repentance) movement to the study of the daily Daf Yomi (one page of Talmud per day) from the hasidic revival to the growth of pluralistic study centers, from the dissolving of sectoral boundaries to the strengthening of Jewish peoplehood.

Steinsaltz was looking at results rather than respect and credit. Someone once told him that he had received one of his books and thanks to him had returned to his Jewish roots. Recalling this, in tears of excitement, Rabbi Steinsaltz said that at that moment he felt that he had returned to the Jew his legal inheritance.

Rabbi Steinsaltz saw his students and followers as his living legacy. His lifes motto was, Let my people know. As we approach a year since Rabbi Steinsaltzs passing away, the vacuum he has left can only be filled by learning from his books and applying his message to our daily lives.

As Meni says, His agenda is still on Torah is reaching Jews and non-Jews alike. In this way, Rabbi Steinsaltz is still here with us. People having conversations about Judaism based on texts, knowledge and real learning not just folklore. Thats exactly what my father wanted.

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Reflections on the first yahrzeit of Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz - The Jerusalem Post

Parshat Shoftim: The pursuit of justice – The Jewish Standard

Posted By on August 13, 2021

As we approach the end of 5781, I find myself both hopeful and concerned about the challenges that lay ahead for We The People of the United States, for People Israel and all of us who inhabit Planet Earth. Over this past year, the plagues of covid-19, hatred and bigotry, and climate change have created a perfect storm that challenges our physical, societal, and spiritual survival. Facing these threats simultaneously has led me to re-examine the meaning of the opening verses of this weeks parsha.

You shall appoint magistrates and public officials for your tribes, in all the settlements that Adonai your God is giving to you, and they shall govern the people with due justice (mishpat tzedek). You shall not judge unfairly, you shall show no partiality, you shall not take bribes for bribes blind the eye of the discerning and upset the plea of the just. Justice, justice you shall pursue tzedek, tzedek tirdof that you may thrive and occupy the land that Adonai your God is giving you.

(Deuteronomy 16:18-20)

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As each of this month undertakes the process we call cheshbon hanefesh, the accounting of the soul, in preparation for Rosh Hashanah, there are questions we have both the right and responsibility to ask not only of ourselves but of each other.

One question which these opening words of our parsha directs me to ask this year is: How well are the new national leaders in both America and Israel living up to the challenging standards set out here in the opening verses of our parsha?

The Talmud, (Sanhedrin 32b) suggests that the repetition of the word justice, tzedek in verse 20 implies that we must be just both in making a judgment and in reaching a compromise.

Both the Biden administration and the new Israeli government led by Naftalie Bennet and Yair Lapid face the difficult challenge of pursuing justice for all the inhabitants of their respective countries while finding themselves having to work together with legislatures in which they have razor-thin support? Can they overcome both the anger and apathy in their societies, which threatens the democracies they lead, while simultaneously defending their nations against the real threats, both foreign and domestic, that both Israel and America face in this third decade of the 21st century?

I found a hopeful answer to my question in a medieval commentary on these opening verses of Shoftim by Bachya ben Asher, a Sephardic Jew. Bachya wrote that the double use of tzedek teaches us that we must pursue justice under all circumstances: Whether it leads to your benefit or to your detriment; both in the words we speak as well as in our actions, whether the matter involves another Jew or a non-Jew. Moreover, the double use of tzedek in this verse teaches us that we cannot use unjust means to secure justice.

Bachya lived in what historians today refer to as The Golden Age of Spanish Jewry. It was a community that was at peace with its Muslim and Christian co-inhabitants. It was internally self-governing and economically thriving. I hear in Bachyas commentary upon this weeks parsha critical lessons for We the Jewish People and We the People of the United States in the 21st century. Both societies face the challenge of minority populations who, while equal under the law, face societal discrimination and economic inequality. I believe that both the Biden and Bennett administrations are committed to equal justice and equal opportunity for their citizens. I pray that both governments will succeed in this goal.

A second question that I hear in these opening words of Shoftim that are amplified by Bachyas interpretation of tzedek, tzedek tirdof is that the imperative to pursue justice, justly, is applicable not only to nations and their leaders, but is directed to each of us, personally.

As we emerge from the death and devastation of the plague of covid-19, I believe that the challenge of the year ahead is whether the fault lines in trust between governed and governors can be repaired. I worry today that the ideal shared by both American and Jewish tradition that we can and we must honor free expression of opinion while distinguishing fact from fiction is under siege. Be it health issues such as the rejection of the lifesaving vaccines that protect all of us from covid-19 or environmental challenges such as climate change which has been manifest here in America this past year by record levels of rain in the American Northeast and equally devastating draught in the West, is there not a serious injustice we are actively or passively participating in when we allow our political preferences, to trump science? Is not the God to whom we will appeal for another year of life on Rosh Hashanah both the Creative Force of our Universe and The Commanding Voice from Sinai that pleads with us Love your neighbor as yourself?!

This summer we have all felt the impact of climate change as draught and oppressive heat impact the western regions of America, while lakes and rivers overflow in the northeast and condominiums crumble in South Florida. The double use of tzedek in our parsha this week reminds me that similar to Americas communal response to the pandemic of covid-19, the effects of climate change now demand that our federal state and local leaders must develop better systemic ways to deal with these medical and environmental challenges. Our national approach must continue to be based upon both justice and compassion. Reading Shoftim this week while preparing for Rosh Hashanah, which is also called Yom Harat Olam, the birthday of the world, reminds me that we must provide help to those directly affected by the impacts of climate change and to lead our fellow Americans to come to grips with the reality of climate change and the unmistakable challenge it poses to the future of this planet.

This past Monday was the first of Elul. As you and I count down the days in anticipation of a new year, I suggest that we all inscribe upon our hearts the words tzedek, tzedek tirdof. Let us not only use it as a measure by which we judge our political leaders but also take a vow that we will not be so quick to judge others, both loved ones and those with whom we disagreewe , and that we will simultaneously judge all our actions by the measuring stick of Torah. Rather than continuing to play the blame game in the year ahead, may all block out the noise of our world on these upcoming High Holy Days to hear the Divine call to change taught to us in a small but salient little book called Avot de Rabbi Natan: When a person does something wrong to you let it be little in your eyes; when you wrong another let it be great in your eyes.

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Parshat Shoftim: The pursuit of justice - The Jewish Standard

Comments on: The Revolutionary Idea of Humility – Jewish Journal

Posted By on August 13, 2021

In a time of selfies and self-esteem, humility is a forgotten virtue. The Jewish traditions emphasis on humility runs counter to our zeitgeist, which places each individual at the very center of the universe. It is challenging for us today to make sense of Maimonides suggestion that the proper way is not merely that man be humble, but that one should be of a very diminutive spirit, and their spirit extremely lowly. In some of the pre-war European Mussar Yeshivot, which were devoted to developing spiritual greatness, the students would constantly repeat aloud ich bin a gornisht, I am a nobody; this habit was meant to cultivate humility. Contrast that with social media, the very purpose of which is to declare the opposite: I am a somebody, and I am worthy of attention.

For this reason, contemporary readers are shocked by archaic descriptions of radical humility. The following passage in Maimonides Commentary to the Mishnah (Avot 4:4) is a good example of this:

I saw in a book from the books on characteristics that one of the important pious men was asked Which day is the one upon which you rejoiced more than any of your days? He said [back], The day that I was going on a boat and my place was in the lowest places of the boat among the packages of clothing, and there were traders and men of means on the boat [as well]. And I was laying in my place and one of the men of the boat got up to urinate and I was insignificant in his eyes and lowlyas I was very low in his eyesto the point that he revealed his nakedness and urinated on me. And I was astonished by the intensity of the trait of brazenness in his soul. But, as God lives, my soul was not pained by his act at all and my strength was not aroused. And I rejoiced with a great joy that I had reached the point that the disgrace of this empty person did not pain me and [that] my soul did not feel [anything] towards him.

This type of saintly behavior seems strange to contemporary readers, and raises questions about the value of humility. Is humility submitting to humiliation? How can one live a life of joy with such a lowly self-image? Furthermore, humility seems to undermine ambition. If a humble person doesnt see any value in their own abilities, they will never produce anything. Rabbeinu Bachya ibn Pakuda, the 11th-century author of the classic ethical work, Chovot Halevavot, grappled with how he could be both humble and an author.

In his introduction, he openly discusses his doubts about writing this brilliant work. He says: when I thought of proceeding to carry out my decision to write this book, I saw that a man like myself is not fit to compose a work like this. I estimated that my . knowledge was too inadequate, and my intellectual faculties too weak to grasp the topics [But] I knew that many great works were lost due to fear, and many losses were caused by concern. I remembered the saying: it is part of prudence not to be overly prudent. Therefore, I found myself obligated to force my soul to bear the task of composing this book. Bachya has to convince himself to disregard his own humility and write his book, because he recognizes that if every humble person desisted from writing, too much would be lost. Humility was always a complicated virtue; and in a time when self-worth is our primary cultural currency, humility seems like a roadblock to happiness.

Our difficulty with humility is that we imagine it to be a form of self-affliction, and perhaps even self-delusion. But humility is also quite practical, and more necessary than ever. In our Torah reading, there are several regulations regarding the King; he has to limit the amount of horses and money he has, and must keep a Torah scroll with himself at all times. These rules are instituted in order that his heart may not be lifted above his brethren, that he may not turn aside from the commandment to the right hand or to the left (Deuteronomy 17:20).

The Ramban explains that this represents an obligation for the King, and everyone else, to be humble. And the Torah outlines why this is so important: an arrogant king will ignore the Torahs responsibilities and lose his connection with others. A humble King will be compassionate; as Maimonides puts it, he will be merciful and compassionate to the small and great and attend to their wants and welfare [and] show respect for even the lowest of the low (Laws of Kings, 2:6).

There are other benefits to humility. The Talmud asserts that humility is a prerequisite to learning, because we cannot learn if we believe we have all the answers; wisdom is found in those humble enough to learn from anyone. These rules recognize that arrogance is destructive. An arrogant king could become drunk with power, detached from his values, his people, and even common sense. A basic sense of humility is critical to the proper functioning of society.

But humility is more than a practical attitude; it is an ideology. Maimonides radical humility is meant to liberate humanity from the foolish desire for honor. Moshe Halbertal describes Maimonides view this way: The humble man, the man of lowly spirit, is one whose self-esteem does not depend on social recognition. It follows that humility is not a belief in the lowliness of ones stature; rather, it is indifference to the value of honor. This is revolutionary. For the Greco-Roman political tradition, recognition on the public stage was a central value; but for Maimonides, God stands at the center.

Maimonides radical humility is meant to liberate humanity from the foolish desire for honor.

Once a person no longer seeks the accolades of others, they will base their self-worth on whether they have served God and fulfilled their mission. As Halbertal notes, Maimonides view of humility threatens a political order built on controlling the public through honor and shame, because the humble will be far more independent than those who seek honor. This is the ideology of radical humility; to pursue ones mission without regard to stature, status or honor.

Once a person no longer seeks the accolades of others, they will base their self-worth on whether they have served God and fulfilled their mission.

The truly humble are driven not by ego, but by purpose. Indeed, they will often achieve lofty goals, but make little of it. Their attitude is that they are just doing their job.During World War II, Irena Sendlerowa, a young mother and social worker, was a member of a Polish underground movement devoted to saving Jews. With great courage and cunning, Sendlerowa used her position to smuggle 2,500 children out of the Warsaw ghetto and hide them in orphanages. After receiving a long overdue honor from the Polish government in 2007, she did not take a bow; instead, she shared her own abiding disappointment: I could have done more this regret will follow me to my death. When pressed by reporters about whether she was a hero, Sendlerowa responded: Every child saved with my help and the help of all the wonderful secret messengers, who today are no longer living, is the justification of my existence on this Earth, and not a title to glory. She was a humble hero, unworried by popular opinion or the dangers in her path.

This is the ideology of humility; it matters not what humans think of you, only what God expects of you. And if you succeed in fulfilling your mission, you may have justified your place on earth.

I just wish the justification for my existence on earth was as good as Sendlerowas.

Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz is the Senior Rabbi of Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun in New York.

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Dozens march to Ben & Jerrys Times Square shop demanding it end Jew hatred – The Times of Israel

Posted By on August 13, 2021

NEW YORK Several dozen pro-Israel demonstrators marched to a Ben & Jerrys shop in midtown Manhattan Thursday evening, protesting the ice cream firms decision to cease its sales in West Bank settlements.

The demonstrators gathered in front of New York Public Library where several parked ice cream trucks awaited them, offering a free soft-serve. Plastered on the vehicles were signs that read End Jew hatred. Say no to Ben & Jerrys, alongside a photoshopped picture of a DivestMint flavored pint with a red X over it.

Those gathered heard from several speakers, including Jake Benyowitz from the Club Z student Zionist group, blogger and End Jew Hatred activist Virg Gulys, Clubhouse Rabbi Shlomo Litvin and New York State Assembly member David Werpin.

None of the speakers or participants who spoke with The Times of Israel accepted Ben & Jerrys claim that its targeted boycott of the settlements is unique from a boycott of Israel as a whole. While the firms founders and managers have stated that they hope to continue doing business in Israel proper and oppose the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement, the organizers insisted that the position effectively amounted to support of BDS and was therefore not only anti-Israel, but antisemitic.

One day its a boycott of Jews in Judea, the next day its an angry mob shouting intifada in Brooklyn, shouted Benyowitz in a fiery speech to open the event.

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Gulyas said that in boycotting Israeli settlements, Ben & Jerrys was engaged in virtue signaling. But unfortunately they are signaling the wrong virtues, he said, adding that the position by the ice cream firm amounted to cultural genocide.

Pro-Israel activists protest outside Ben & Jerrys at the New York Public Library in Manhattan on August 12, 2021. (Jacob Magid/Times of Israel)

Jewish presence in Judea, Tel Aviv, here in New York, is not a provocation, she added.

Litvin said that while he love[s] ice cream as much as the next guy, especially if its Chalav Yisroel, his reason for attending the rally was not about ice cream. If [Jews] dont have a connection to Hebron, Jerusalem and Shchem (Nablus), what connection could we possibly have to Ramat Gan, he said, noting that ancient Jewish history is rooted beyond the Green Line and reasoning that boycotts targeting Jewish presence there were thus antisemitic.

Pro-Israel demonstrators protest in New York City against Ben and Jerrys over its settlement boycott on August 12, 2021. (Luke Tress/Flash90)

The largely older crowd was decked out in different shades of blue, some wearing End Jew Hatred t-shirts and others draped in Israeli flags.

Across the street on 5th Avenue, roughly a dozen demonstrators from the anti-Zionist Neturei Karta Haredi sect gathered for a counter-demonstration, waving Palestinian flags and holding signs that read anti-Zionism is not antisemitism.

A pro-Israel demonstrator outside the New York Public Library in Manhattan on August 12, 2021. (Jacob Magid/Times of Israel)

After the speeches on the pro-Israel side of the street concluded and the participants sang the Israeli and American national anthems, they began marching to the Times Square branch of Ben & Jerrys a half-mile away.

As they walked, a megaphone-wielding Benyowitz led chants of Shame on you, Ben & Jerrys, Everyone deserves ice cream and From the river to the sea, Israel will always be.

Organizers of a protest against Ben & Jerrys hand out free ice cream in New York City on August 12, 2021. (Luke Tress/Flash90)

The Neturei Karta gang began following along, while staying on the other side of the street as they shouted against Israel.

The odd scene involving barely one hundred people on both sides of the street caught many onlookers off-guard.

Pro-Israel demonstrators protest in New York City against Ben and Jerrys over its settlement boycott on August 12, 2021. (Luke Tress/Flash90)

What did Ben & Jerrys do? asked one bystander.

They stopped selling ice cream in parts of Israel, one of the demonstrators responded.

Anti-Israel Neturei Karta activists protest across the street from pro-Israel demonstrators in Manhattan on August 12, 2021. (Jacob Magid/Times of Israel)

Im sorry to hear that. Theyre my favorite flavor of ice cream, the onlooker said.

Whats BDS? asked another woman, who was quickly handed a pamphlet by one of the End Jewish Hatred t-shirt wearers. She let it drop to the ground before walking away.

One spectator mistook a blue-shirt wearing Times Square carriage driver for a participant and asked what the protest was for. The driver happened to have been handed a pamphlet, which he showed to the passerby. This brand is against the Jewish [sic], he explained of the ice cream company founded by Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield.

No less mystified were the police officers on-site to secure the protest. One of them did her best to explain the situation to her colleagues.

A pro-Israel demonstrator outside the New York Public Library in Manhattan on August 12, 2021. (Jacob Magid/Times of Israel)

Ben & Jerrys wont sell the ice cream in Israel, she said. But pointing to the Neturei Karta members across the street, she noted: I dont really know what theyre upset about because theyre Jewish.

The officer added:I dont eat from Ben & Jerrys anyways because theyre against cops.

The dessert manufacturer has taken up a number of progressive causes and named a flavor Change the Whirled in support of last years protests against police violence and systemic racism.

By the time the protesters reached the Ben & Jerrys shop, it had closed for the day, but demonstrators gathered at the entrance and continued chanting slogans against the company.

There too, ice cream trucks were awaiting the participants and in addition to handing out more free ice cream, they played traditional ice cream truck jingles that drowned out the Neturei Karta protesters across the street.

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Dozens march to Ben & Jerrys Times Square shop demanding it end Jew hatred - The Times of Israel

I feel empowered as an Asian-American Jew but it sure took a while to get there – Cleveland Jewish News

Posted By on August 13, 2021

This article originally appeared on Alma.

I first noticed I was different at my Jewish preschool. I came home with a little bag of crayons and a big question: Why am I tan if all the other kids are apricot?

I dont remember how my mom explained my ethnicity, which today I describe as mixed Chinese and Russian Ashkenazi Jewish, but I remember being unsatisfied with her response. Nonetheless, I felt at home at my preschool, so being a different color wasnt an issue that is, until I aged out and enrolled in public elementary school.

I grew up in Huntington Beach, best known as Californias hotspot for surfing and neo-Nazis. The weather here is perpetually 73 degrees, our last mayor pro tem sold QAnon merch and for some inexplicable reason there just arent a ton of Jews here. Switching to public school, I finally met a few other Asian kids, except now I was one of the only Jewish kids, and the culture shock was real. I brought matzah for show and tell and was shocked that no one had even heard of Passover.Wait, so not everyone is Jewish? Also, who is this Santa guy you speak of?

My classmates invited me to church, trying to convert me. After singing exclusively Christmas songs in every local holiday concert, I recovered by writing my own Hanukkah songs (plus some nonreligious Christmas songs, as every Jewish songwriter needs in their catalog). I took on these battles proudly, as I loved to remind people that I was Jewish.

Meanwhile, Asian was a label that I never chose for myself, yet my face gave it away. My earliest associations with the word Asian were microaggressions, so I grew to despise the word and everything it represented. Surprise surprise, growing up Asian American in an image-obsessed, Hollywood-adjacent culture with zero role models of color was the perfect storm for a sneaky bitch called internalized racism.

My immigrant ancestors assimilated for their own survival, rejecting everything that made them different to prove their loyalty as Americans. Carrying on that tradition, my mom never learned Cantonese, and I never learned how to use chopsticks. Dont wear yellow, youre too dark, my mom would tell me, projecting onto me what shed been told as a kid. So I tried scrubbing away my tan in the bathtub, as my white classmates were spraying on theirs.

While my friends were soaking up the golden hour aesthetic and rocking cat-eye winged eyeliner, I was slapping blue filters on my photos to look less yellow and googling tutorials on how to fix my hooded eyes. All my insecurities were amplified by comments from my classmates, like the sixth-grader who advised me to bleach my hair and get plastic surgery.

Internalized racism completely distorted my self-image. I saw myself as a hideous Asian caricature, a jumbled collage of stereotypes and failed expectations. My Asian face didnt feel like mine.

I resented my own mother for making me Asian. I sought the approval of my white peers, believing that every white person was inherently superior to me and that I was half-superior to my monoracial Asian friends. White supremacy really had me convinced that my Asianness was a problem for which I needed to apologize.

So instead, I leaned into my Jewishness. Except, without a solid Jewish community, finding my Jewishness was like navigating an abandoned highway at night with no GPS, where my only road signs were stereotypes, vague Holocaust references and occasional words of wisdom from my Jewish grandma.

Whenever anyone called me Asian, Id counter that I was Jewish. As a secular, Asian-presenting, patrilineal Jew, it felt like a lie. I slept in thick plastic curlers every night, waking up to lumpy, lopsided curls that only held for a few hours in my Asian hair. While my friends were reading Harry Potter and Magic Tree House, I was maxing out my library card on Holocaust books, which made for some dazzling playground icebreakers such as, Who is your favorite Holocaust survivor? and, Where in your house would you hide from the Nazis?

I cant rationalize why immersing myself in historical Jewish trauma felt easier than embracing my modern Asian-American Jewish reality. I reasoned I was simply learning my peoples history. Ironically I was weaponizing my Jewishness as a steppingstone to whiteness. I thought if I redesigned myself to be as Jewish as possible, people could forget I was Asian. So every night Id put in the curlers and search my reflection for any physical proof that I was Jewish. Puberty finally granted me my wish: Practically overnight, my stick-straight Asian hair had a major Ashkenazi awakening.

If genetics worked like a Build-a-Hair workshop , Id combine the texture of smooth, silky stereotypical Chinese hair with the volume of big stereotypical Jewish curls and defy all laws of hair physics. Instead I ended up with a frizzy, inconsistently wavy, unmanageable mess.

Have you heard of conditioner? my Asian friends would ask. Or my favorite, Just brush it! Suddenly my Jewishness was another problem to detangle.

It was a vicious cycle: dissecting every inch of my body, comparing myself to two sets of unattainable beauty standards and constantly finding a new insecurity. Do I have a Jewish nose? Id ponder, obsessing over my side profile. (I do, in fact, have a Jewish nose because Im Jewish and I have a nose.) Ugh, my eyelashes are so short and Asian! The shameful tug of war between my two identities seemed never-ending.

One day, all these messy, nuanced feelings spilled out onto a page in my songwriting journal. Digging through these complexities with humor and a profound level of honesty, I wrote Water & Oil, a song more genuinely Jewish than any of the Hanukkah songs Id written as a kid. Twenty-five mixed collaborators helped me bring the song to life, along with a music video shot by fellow Asian Jew Jared Chiang-Zeizel.

The music video was a cathartic opportunity to wear everything I had denied myself monochrome head-to-toe yellow, winged eyeliner and my hair in its full frizzy glory. We satirized all my insecurities the blue filters, my vendetta against my hairbrush and my failure to use chopsticks. It was angsty, it was campy and it made me feel whole.

Today I feel beautiful and empowered in my Asian-American Jewish identity. My Jewish identity means so much more to me than simply my whiteness, and I will never let white supremacy define my identity again. Growing into my mixed identity is a lifelong rollercoaster of learning and unlearning, but Im into it. And hey, thats pretty damn Jewish.

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I feel empowered as an Asian-American Jew but it sure took a while to get there - Cleveland Jewish News

My Unorthodox Life just another show distorting Orthodox Jews – opinion – The Jerusalem Post

Posted By on August 13, 2021

Ex-Orthodox Jews seem to be everywhere these days. Many critiques of this summers hit Netflix reality series My Unorthodox Life have pointed out that its release came on the heels of Unorthodox (2020), the successful Netflix drama series about a woman who runs away from her oppressive religious life, andOne of Us, the 2017 Netflix documentary about formerly Orthodox Jews who similarly escaped their religious communities.

Why the sudden obsession with Orthodox Jewish life, Netflix? The truth: This phenomenon is by no means sudden.

In fact, performances of religious Jewish life by non-religious Jews can be traced to 19th-century Eastern Europe. One famous story from the 1860s tells of the enlightened Jewish performer Israel Grodner, who took to the stage during a performance in Romania to recite a Yiddish poem. The poem was a serious critique of Hasidism intended to be delivered in the European style of top hat and tails. Instead, Grodner decided at the last minute lightning fast, according to one observer to dress in a long caftan, shtreimel and faux payot, using comically exaggerated gestures as he recited a scathing critique of Hasidic Jews. The audiences delight signaled a desire to laugh at the Hasid and not just deride him.

Often referred to as the birth of modern Yiddish theater, this performance demonstrates the secular Jewish viewers contradictory urge to embrace religious Jewish imagery lovingly and nostalgically while simultaneously critiquing it, reaffirming their choices not to practice that brand of Judaism. In the decades between the 19th-century Romanian stage and 21st-century streaming platforms, there are scores of depictions of religious Jews in film, television and theater that serve this dual function. And their approaches remain remarkably similar over time, relying on fashion and ridicule to signal the divide between the unmistakably religious and the ambivalently secular.

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Of course, historical turns shifted the meaning behind the religious garb, language and gestures that mark such performances. Recalling Grodners lightning fast costume change, the Nazi documentary The Eternal Jew (1940) employed the same strategy to showcase presumed Jewish trickery. In one scene, a line of religious Jewish men magically transforms as their beards, sidelocks, caps and caftans fade from view. As the narrator ominously claims, without the Jewish garb, only sharp-eyed people can spot [their] racial origins. The Nazis saw the potential for Jews to pass in secular clothing as one example of the threat they posed to a pure Aryan society. Memories of such abuse of religious Jewish imagery may be part of what stokes fears of antisemitism from certain viewers watching the fabulous, sexy Julia Haart discuss her transformation from religious to liberated on My Unorthodox Life.

On Haarts show, we see examples of the contradictions that colored performances of and about Orthodoxy for 150 years. Haart and her family simultaneously reject and embrace Orthodoxy in ways that recall Grodners performance. Without ever saying so, the show responds to the pernicious Nazi propaganda by asserting that Jews have nothing to hide (and, if we were to ask Haart, Jewish women may have an obligation to expose everything).

Haart is open about how her rejection of a certain type of religious Jewish life does not mean she rejects Judaism or others practices.Unlike earlier performances of ex-Orthodoxy, My Unorthodox Life depicts a spectrum of Jewish religiosity from yeshivish Orthodox to Modern Orthodox to entirely secular. Her religiously ambivalent children run the gamut of Jewish practice: Is her daughter Batshevas husband ready for her to wear pants? Is her son Shlomo open to dating? Can the observant teenager Aron befriend a girl and still be the pious Jew he aims to be?

By contrast, both Grodners performance and the Nazi propaganda offered black-and-white options for Jews: They could be undeniably religious in look and sound, or be fully secular, detectable as Jewish only by sharp-eyed viewers. My Unorthodox Life challenges such black-and-white depictions.

From Grodner to The Eternal Jewto Woody Allens famous transformation into a Hasid in Annie Hall, the lightning fast costume changes that indicate indisputable Jewishness take place on the bodies of men. Photographs from Haarts Orthodox past, like her wedding photo, reveal just how subtle womens religious garb can be. While Orthodox Jewish mens garb is instantly legible to most viewers, the modest dress, wigs and head coverings of Orthodox women are not. My Unorthodox Life leans on colorful, revealing womens fashion such as the tiny, bright green romper Haart wears to shop at a kosher market in Monsey, Norkw Y. to differentiate its secular protagonist from her former modestly dressed Orthodox self.

Given the importance of dress in Orthodox life, its no surprise that a show about a woman who has left Orthodoxy would also be a show about fashion.

Of course, My Unorthodox Life is not about Orthodox life at all. As Haart herself has explained, it is about her life after leaving. Like many reality shows, My Unorthodox Life serves up a fantasy world of extreme wealth and sexual exploits, with carefully contrived family drama that keeps the viewer coming back for more. Yet the Orthodox specter haunts the show. Who do we imagine Julia once was? What did her life look like before? The show skimps on those details, although American audiences have become so fluent in the visual vocabulary of religious Jews (read: men) that the black hats and long beards no longer need to appear on screen for us to imagine their outsized presence.

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My Unorthodox Life just another show distorting Orthodox Jews - opinion - The Jerusalem Post

Beanie Feldstein is the new Funny Girl but Jewish actresses dont always get the Jewish role – Forward

Posted By on August 13, 2021

By Jeff Spicer/Stringer via ...

Oberman on the red carpet at The Olivier Awards in April 2017.

Beanie Feldstein will play Fanny Brice in the upcoming revival of Funny Girl on Broadway. But its far from given that a Jewish actress gets to play a strong Jewish role.

Tracy-Ann Oberman, famous for her work in British TV comedies and soap operas, and who now stars in the hit West End production The Windsors, revealed in a recent interview that her profession has never been able to fully accept her Jewishness.

A former drama coach once opined that she didnt look enough like Anne Frank to play Jewish roles, she told i, the British media outlet.

At the same time, she was advised to change her name to something less Jewish-sounding, and that she and other Jewish actresses were told to hide their heritage, she said.

Oberman did not take that counsel, and has publicly criticized the Labour Party for antisemitism within its ranks and then quit it and called out boycotts against Israel.

This is what I am, take it or leave it, she said.

She is not the first Jewish woman actress, on either side of the Atlantic, to observe that its not always easy for Jewish women to land Jewish roles at least certain kinds of Jewish roles.

A noble, heroic Jewish character is often played by a non-Jew, comedian and actor Sarah Silverman said last year on The Howard Stern Show. They finally make RBG the movie, and its a British woman, Felicity Jones. Mrs. Maisel [played by Rachel Brosnahan] God bless her, shes brilliant not Jewish.

But when its her turn to play a Jewish woman, Silverman said, she is the sassy friend, the comedic relief, or the nightmare girlfriend and never the main character.

Lester Friedman, author of Hollywoods Image of the Jew, said Oberman and Silverman are not imagining that Jewish female roles are often caricatures. There are two stereotypical characters for Jewish women, he said. One, the overbearing Jewish mother or, two, the demanding JAP.

That doesnt mean that Jewish women arent Hollywood A-listers.

Scarlett Johannson is Marvels biggest female avenger. Gal Gadot is this generations Wonder Woman. Natalie Portman stars in everything from rom-coms to thrillers to period pieces. Her Black Swan co-star Mila Kunis is a household name, as are Rashida Jones and Zo Kravitz.

By Steve Schapiro/Archive Ph...

Streisand on the set of Funny Girl in 1968.

They stand on the shoulders of Barbra Streisand, said Bob Bahr, a writer and film critic at The Center for Media and the Moving Image in Atlanta. Jewish actresses success in Hollywood began with Streisand in Funny Girl, for which she shared won an Academy Award for Best Actress in 1968, he said.

She transformed the conception of beauty, Bahr said. After her, you could be Jewish and you could be beautiful.

But Bahr is not necessarily bothered when non-Jewish actresses play Jewish parts, reasoning that if Jewish women can play non-Jewish superheroes, first ladies, and ballerinas, then non-Jews should be accepted in Jewish roles.

Friedman said Jewish actresses arent getting Jewish roles for another reason.

There are no more Jewish roles! said Friedman, emeritus professor of media studies at Hobart and William Smith Colleges. Nobody wants to make movies about Jews anymore.

Maybe there are still a few on TV, but in film, its played out, he continued. The major Jewish anxieties of the 20th century that made it into film antisemitism, intermarriage, and the Holocaustare widely known and accepted in American culture.

We have to figure out: what are the Jewish stories now? Maybe then, he said, we will start to see more diverse characters and more diverse representations of Jewish women.

Beanie Feldstein is the new Funny Girl but Jewish actresses dont always get the Jewish role

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Beanie Feldstein is the new Funny Girl but Jewish actresses dont always get the Jewish role - Forward

Ancient Greek synagogue resurrected in Crete – The Jerusalem Post

Posted By on August 11, 2021

Jews first arrived in Crete from Egypt some 2,300 years ago, perhaps as part of Egyptian military campaigns. A century or two later, they came from the Land of Israel during the Maccabean Revolt.

Their descendants came to be known as Romaniote Jews, over time developing a distinct culture including liturgical traditions and songs, and speaking Yevanic, a Judeo-Greek dialect infused with Hebrew loanwords and written in Hebrew script.

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Through ancient inscriptions, medieval manuscripts and other written and archaeological sources, we can trace some of the history of Cretan Jewry, which thrived under Greek, Roman, Byzantine, Andalusian Arab, Venetian and Ottoman control, before being nearly extinguished under German occupation in 1944.

Today, the Etz Hayyim Synagogue in Hania is practically the only remaining testament on the island to the rich Cretan Jewish heritage, which spanned two millennia.

Jewish communities on Crete are first referenced in 4th century BCE epitaph inscriptions from Kassanoi and Kissamos where, in the city of Kissamos, a Sophia of Gortyna, an elder and leader of the synagogue attests to the leading role of women in diaspora communities.

By the time of the Roman conquest of Crete in the 1st century BCE, Jewish communities were thriving in most of the major cities, including Gortyna, Kissamos, Hania, Rethymnon, Knossos and Sitia.

According to the renowned Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria, the larger Greek islands, including Crete, were full of Jewish settlements (Legatione ad Gaium, 282).

At the time, Crete was one of the 64 provinces of the Byzantine Empire, with its capital in Constantinople. Jews are not explicitly mentioned in extant historical accounts from the short-lived Emirate of Crete (825-961 CE), established following the Andalusian Arab conquest of the island, but they certainly remained.

During the late Byzantine period (961-1204 CE), historical sources indicate that Jewish communities were not permitted to live within the islands walled cities, but were instead required to live outside the walls as close as possible to the main city gates which offered protection in times of danger.

By the 16th century, the three main Cretan cities, Heraklion (Kandia), Rethymnon (Retimo) and Hania (La Canea) were flourishing under Venetian rule, their populations steadily growing and the economy thriving due to trade and shipping.

Many wealthy Jewish families moved to Hania, the new Ottoman capital of the island, and farther afield to Venice and elsewhere in Italy and to other Mediterranean port cities like Gibraltar, Istanbul and Salonika. Yet, Ottoman authority was also favorable to Cretes Jewish communities, which were afforded some degree of religious autonomy, just like their Christian Orthodox neighbors, under the Ottoman millet system.

In towns like Hania, the former ghettos were opened and Jews were allowed to settle in neighbouring quarters where they were permitted to buy and legally inherit property for the first time.

This in particular may be what enticed Sephardic immigrants from North Africa and Izmir to the city at the time. However, by the 19th century, sporadic violent revolts against Ottoman rule in Crete led many Jews to emigrate elsewhere.

It is estimated that in 1817, there were 150 Jewish families divided between Heraklion and Hania; in 1858, there were 907 Jews on the island; by 1881, there were only 647 Jews in Crete, with the majority residing in Hania.

From this time onwards, most of Cretes Jews, numbering only about 350 members, were residing in Hania where they increasingly faced restrictions imposed upon their daily lives. Some individuals managed to escape Crete for Athens during the occupation. Some survived there in hiding, while others were eventually arrested and sent to the extermination camps.

Etz Hayyim stood abandoned from then until the 1990s, when Hania resident Nikos Stavroulakis (an artist, art historian and founding director of the Jewish Museum of Greece) decided to rebuild and revive the synagogue.

Almost 50 years after the end of WWII, the fortunes of the Etz Hayyim Synagogue were to change thanks to Nikos, who managed to garner significant interest and funding to fully restore the synagogue in just a few short years.

Today, Etz Hayyim is both an active place of worship where a small multinational and multi-faith group called the Havurah share communal experiences, as well as a vibrant community and cultural center that hosts exhibitions, lectures, readings, films and concerts.

Its small team of dedicated staff undertake ongoing research into the history of the Cretan Jewish community, while engaging both local and international school groups and teachers as part of the synagogues ongoing educational outreach program. The synagogue welcomes Jews of all different backgrounds and non-Jewish visitors, who can take a guided tour of the synagogue and learn about Cretan Jewish history and traditions, or attend regular Kabbalat Shabbat and High Holiday services.

Two decades after its rededication, Etz Hayyim has once again become a fixture in the religious and socio-cultural life of Hania as a place of prayer, study, recollection and reconciliation.

Nikos Stavroulakis, founding director of the new Etz Hayyim Synagogue and legendary figure in Greek Jewish life, passed away in 2017. The Etz Hayyim staff is currently cataloguing Nikos private collection of artifacts, books, documents and other items. The Nikos Stavroulakis Collection will eventually be made available to researchers and the general public.

If you have any materials (photos, letters, documents, etc.) relating to Nikos or his work, please email the Etz Hayyim staff: info@etz-hayyim-hania.org.

This article has been published as part of Gesher LEuropa, the National Library of Israels initiative to connect with people, institutions and communities across Europe and beyond, through storytelling, knowledge sharing and community engagement.

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Ancient Greek synagogue resurrected in Crete - The Jerusalem Post

A synagogue renovation that could breathe some life into this Bulgarian Jewish community – Haaretz

Posted By on August 11, 2021

For 40 years, the central synagogue in this port city has resembled the towns Jewish population barely existent and rapidly aging.The synagogue, which was built in the 19th century, is quite literally a shell of its former self. Vines creep up the side of the stone walls and the intricate painted designs on the buildings columns have faded from years of exposure to the elements. One of the domes is missing entirely, the result of a World War II bomb. The roof over the sanctuary is missing, too not that the citys Jews have use for it. With about a dozen members, the Jews of Vidin can barely form a minyan.

But over the next six months, the synagogue will undergo a massive transformation, gaining a new life as a $6 million cultural center and community hub for both Jews and non-Jews.

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The Vidin municipality is hoping that the project can do more than restore an old building. The city is nestled in a crook in the Danube River, part of a small chunk of northwest Bulgaria that juts out into a gap between Romania and Serbia. Its also located in the poorest region in the European Union and, not coincidentally, one of the continents fastest-shrinking population centers. (Bulgaria itself holds the ignoble title of the worlds fastest-shrinking country.)It wasnt always this way.

When the synagogue was built in 1894, Vidin was rapidly industrializing. The Austrian architect Friedrich Grnanger designed the synagogue to be a majestic monument: The two-story building featured a turret on each corner, making it visible from far away. Delicate stained-glass and intricate murals covered the interior.

Grnanger modeled his efforts on the Great Synagogue in Vienna hoping that Vidin would one day become as large and powerful as the Austrian capital. At that time, the Jewish community numbered around 1,500 people, or about 10 percent of Vidins population. By the eve of World War II the number had grown to a quarter, or some 2,000 Jews. Vidins Jewish community accounted for about 5 percent of Bulgarias overall Jewish population. Sofia, the capital, was home to 50 percent.

Unlike its neighbors, Bulgaria did not deport its Jews during the Holocaust (though it did deport the Jewish population of neighboring Macedonia, which the country occupied during the war). However, after Israel was founded in 1948, Bulgaria strongly encouraged its Jewish population to immigrate to the new Jewish state. Most of Vidins Jews acquiesced and left for Israel, leaving behind their war-torn synagogue. By 1949, there were just 17 Jewish families in Vidin, many of whom intermarried and assimilated into the population.

Today that number has dwindled even more. Rosa Marinova, the president of Vidins Jewish community organization, estimates that there are around a dozen Jews in town, half of whom regularly attend community events.

We dont have a synagogue anymore, Marinova said. Well get together on Rosh Hashanah and some of the other holidays and do something small, but its nothing formal.

A few years ago, Vidin erected a small monument in the citys central park to commemorate its once-vibrant Jewish community.With no rabbi and nobody to use the space, the battered synagogue fell into disrepair. In the 1980s, the city attempted to renovate the synagogue with help from Bulgarias Ministry of Culture and National Institute of Monuments. But the fall of communism stunted that plan, leaving the synagogue without a roof.

Fully exposed to the elements and abandoned, the already decrepit synagogue fell into complete disrepair. Grass grew over the tiled floor, the iconic metal columns rusted, and the walls filled with graffiti from local teens. Although the synagogue was returned to the Bulgarian Jewish community organization in the mid-2000s, the few remaining members had no use for the tottering structure.Wed heard for years about how we should be putting effort into restoring this synagogue because its considered to be one of the most beautiful in Bulgaria, said Maxim Delchev, the director of education at Shalom, Bulgarias Jewish community umbrella organization. But, to be honest, we couldnt put a ton of money into a synagogue in a city that probably wont have a Jewish community in 20 years.

So when the Vidin municipality approached Shalom in 2017 with a proposal to turn the synagogue into a cultural center, the Jewish organization was apprehensive but excited. After all, it had just gotten back the synagogue, and the city had already proven itself a negligent steward of the property. However, the fact that the city took initiative and had a concrete plan for restoring the synagogue gave Shalom hope. So did the $6 million in EU funding that had been set aside for the project, part of a larger $1.6 billion project meant to accelerate development in Bulgaria.

For many in Vidin, the effort to rebuild the local synagogue is their last chance at creating a tourist destination that will revive the cash-strapped region.

While its not going to be used for religious practice anymore, itll get a new life as a cultural space, said Yordan Tsenov, the projects architect.

Throughout Europe, small towns and cities have turned dilapidated synagogues into cultural spaces, museums, even restaurants, via adaptive reuse. These spaces are usually not designed to be exclusively Jewish. While the Vidin municipality shows genuine interest in preserving Vidins Jewish history, it also sees a unique opportunity to bring foreigners Jewish and non-Jewish to the city.

Over the next few years, the plan has slowly taken shape. Named after a Jewish artist from Vidin, the Jules Pascin Cultural Center will be home to a museum, performance space, library and caf. There are plans as well to install a permanent exhibition dedicated to the history of the Jewish community here.

Tsenov said that although the synagogue will no longer be a functioning synagogue, the city plans to restore most of the original architectural features. Most of the early work will involve stabilizing the initial structure, including laying a new foundation and filling in the hollow metal columns with concrete.

In late June, Vidin hosted a groundbreaking event with the mayor and several Jews from the community in attendance. Construction began last month, and the center is expected to open by the end of 2022, barring delays.

Its a wonderful building and an important part of our towns history, said Shelley Vladeva, another member of the Jewish community. Everyone in Vidin Jew and non-Jew alike want to see it restored.

Even after it opens, the Jewish community doesnt have any plans to use the synagogue for services. The members will continue to have Shabbat dinners, Rosh Hashanah services and Passover seders at their new community space, a small room near the citys monument to its Jewish community. Its much humbler than the synagogue, but it fits their community much better.

Plus, Vladeva adds with a smile, this one is next to the park.

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A synagogue renovation that could breathe some life into this Bulgarian Jewish community - Haaretz

Nearly $15 Million Approved To Renovate Breed Street Shul In Boyle Heights, Once The Center Of Jewish Life In Los Angeles – CBS Los Angeles

Posted By on August 11, 2021

LOS ANGELES (CBSLA) The century-old Breed Street Shul in Boyle Heights is getting a new lease on life thanks to millions in dollars championed by Californias Jewish and Latino lawmakers to renovate the historic landmark.

Nearly $15 million in state funding was announced Tuesday to transform the historic, cultural monument into a multipurpose space and highlight the rich and diverse immigrant history of the Latino and Jewish communities in the Boyle Heights neighborhood.

The Breed Street Shul is a powerful symbol of the shared immigrant experience that connects so many communities across California, Assemblyman and chair of the states Legislative Jewish Caucus Jesse Gabriel said in a statement. Transforming this historic landmark will provide us with a unique opportunity to celebrate our shared history, build bridges, and strengthen cooperation and dialogue between the Latino and Jewish communities in los Angeles.

The former synagogue dates back to 1915, but the building facing the street was built in 1923. When it was built, there was a thriving Jewish population in Boyle Heights, which at the time was known as Brooklyn Heights, and the Shul served as a hub for Jewish life in Los Angeles from the 1920s through the 1950s.

Its buildings began deteriorating in the 1980s due to neglect, vandalism, and earthquake damage. Once the largest Orthodox synagogue west of Chicago, its final services were held in 1996.

The Shuls original 1915 building reopened in November 2011, but more work was needed for the historic landmark.

The Shul once served as a place of worship and a community hub over half a century ago, and with this allocation, we can turn this beautiful and historic building into a cultural and community center once again, Assemblyman Miguel Santiago said in a statement.

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Nearly $15 Million Approved To Renovate Breed Street Shul In Boyle Heights, Once The Center Of Jewish Life In Los Angeles - CBS Los Angeles


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