Sept - Be`chol Lashon

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The Institute for Jewish and Community Research
Be'chol Lashon Newsletter • September 2007
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Be'chol Lashon, a program of the Institute for Jewish & Community Research, seeks to grow and strengthen the Jewish
people through racial, ethnic, and cultural inclusiveness.
SOCIAL CHANGE
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In This Issue
Projects
EVENTS & COMMUNITY UPDATES
Abayudaya Jews
of Uganda
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·Igaal Sizomu
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·March
·May
·June
·July
·August
·September
·October
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Bay Area Be'chol Lashon Retreat
Mazel Tov to Rabbi Capers and Rabbinit Miriam Funnye
Simcha Torah Celebratio with Indian Jewish Congregation
SporK: A Festival of Short (Mixed) Plays
Andre Aciman, Award Winning Author
CURRENT NEWS
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Most Americans Approve of Interracial Marriages
Peruvian Jews Collect for Quake Relief
Israeli-inspired Youth Village for Rwandan Orphans Takes Shape
IDENTITY
·December
·January 2008
·February 2008
Ibo Jews of Nigeria
Newsletter
Newsletter Archives
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COMMUNITIES AROUND THE WORLD
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Events
Past Events
Indian Jews at Home in Queens
More than Kugel and Knishes: Harvard University's Sephardi Society
The Joy of Judaism
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India's Jews
Bercelona Restoring Jewish Quarter
The Turkish Paradox
ARTS & CULTURE
DVDs
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In Every Tongue
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A Persian Josef K.
Must Read for any Interfaith Couple
Kibbitz Cover Girl: Sophie Okonedo
Judaism and Race
CDs
Sing for Joy
Books
PRESERVING JEWISH HERITAGE
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Small Community in Armenia Strives to Preserve its Heritage
The Last Jews in Afghanistan Has No Plans to Leave
Shanghai's Tombstone Raider Uncovers Forgotten Jewish History
http://www.jewishresearch.org/0907/full.html (1 of 19) [3/11/08 11:18:53 AM]
GO
EVENTS & COMMUNITY UPDATES
Bay Area Be'chol Lashon Retreat
November 9th-11th
Walker Creek Ranch
Petaluma, CA
You are invited to the 4th Annual Bay Area Be'chol Lashon Retreat for ethnically and racially diverse Jews, families,
and friends at Walker Creek Ranch.
The weekend features Rhythm Village founder, Gabe Harris and Naby Bangoura, a native of Guinea, West Africa, who
will be leading both drum and dance workshops for children and adults. We welcome back Rabbis-in-Residence, Rabbi
Capers Funnye, Beth Shalom Bnai Zaken, Chicago, and Rabbi Lisa Edwards, Beth Chayim Chadashim, LA. It is an
opportunity to learn together, celebrate our Judaism, and continue to strengthen our growing community.
The weekend package of lodging, vegetarian meals, sports, workshops and drumming is all inclusive! Click here for more
information or contact Esther Fishman, 415-386-2604. Space is limited!
Mazel Tov to Rabbi Capers and Rabbinit Miriam Funnye
Celebrate the 22nd Anniversary of Rabbi Capers and Rabbinit Miriam Funnye
Friday, October 26th – October 28th
Beth Shalom B’nai Zaken, Ethipian Hebrew Congregation
6601 South Kedzie Avenue, Chicago Illinois 60629
Call Beth Shalom at (773) 476-2924 for more information.
Simcha Torah Celebration with Indian Jewish Congregation
October 7th, 4:30pm
The Village Temple
33 E 12th Street
NY, NY 10023
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur have given all of us intense spirituality. Now let us enjoy the gift of
the Torah. Let us all celebrate with the flavor of the Bene Israel for Simcha Torah on Oct. 7 at
4:30pm, with prayer, singing and dancing with the Torah.
$10 per adult and $5 per child under 11.
Delicious Indian vegetarian food and snacks, as well as American snacks will be served.
Presented by the Indian Jewish Congregation of the USA.
SporK: A Festival of Short (Mixed) Plays
October 9, 2007, 7PM
La Pena Cultural Center
3105 Shattuck Ave
Berkeley, CA 94705
Tickets: Tickets, $12 adv. Contact: sporkfestival@gmail.com
The SporK festival, committed to sharing the stories of "in betweeners": individuals in between
cultures, ethnicities, religions, beliefs and ideas, is destined to be a powerful experience.
The evening will include a social hour hosted by VinoRosso, a San Francisco hit cross-cultural
wine bar, a raffle featuring a host of fabulous prizes from Bay Area businesses and a presentation
from associates of the SporK Festival and Mixed Company including an excerpt from: In The
Crossingby Leila Buck (pictured here), a one-woman show based on Leila's experiences as an
Arab-American in Beirut with her Jewish husband during the Israeli-Hezbollah Conflict in Summer
2006.
Presented by Swirl Inc, Be’chol Lashon and iPride.
Andre Aciman, Award Winning Author
October 14, 2007
San Francisco JCC
3200 California Street
San Francisco, CA 94118
Tickets: $20 General, $25 Students/Seniors, Call the JCC Box Office: (415)292-1233
An Illuminating Lecture and Discussion with Andre Aciman, Award Winning Author
Andre Aciman is the author of Out of Egypt and False Papers: Essays on Exile and Memory. He has
also co-authored and edited The Proust Project and Letters of Transit. Born in Alexandria, he lived in
Italy and France. He received his Ph.D. from Harvard University and has taught at Princeton
University and Bard College and is currently the chair of The Graduate Center's doctoral program in
Comparative Literature. He is the recipient of a Whiting Writers' Award, a Guggenheim Fellowship,
and a fellowship from The New York Public Library's Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers. He
has written for The New York Times, The New Yorker, The New York Review of Books, and The New
Republic.
Presented by JIMENA, Jews Indigenous to the Middle East and North Africa, seeking peace, justice and reconciliation in
the Middle East
Ruth Behar: An Island Called Home: Returning to Jewish Cuba
Monday, October 15, 7:30 p.m.
BJE Jewish Community Library at 1835 Ellis Street in San Francisco
http://www.bjesf.org/
Anthropologist Ruth Behar was born in Havana and left as a child, part of the exodus of
Jews who emigrated en masse after the 1959 Revolution. In her memoir chronicling the
obsessively recurring trips she made back as an adult, Behar describes her encounter
with the Jews who stayed and the life that might have been hers had her family remained
in Cuba.
Presented by Be’chol Lashon and the Bureau of Jewish Education, Jewish Community Library
CURRENT NEWS
Most Americans Approve of Interracial Marriages
By Joseph Carroll, August 16, 2007, GallupPoll.com
Gallup's recent Minority Rights and Relations survey updated a long-term trend that asks Americans if they "approve or
disapprove of marriages between blacks and whites."
More than three in four Americans say they approve of marriages between blacks and whites -- similar to the results
measured in 2003 and 2004. As recently as 1994, less than half of Americans approved. The vast majority of whites and
an even larger majority of blacks approve of interracial marriages. Older Americans -- regardless of race or ethnicity -are less inclined to support interracial marriages than are younger Americans, but still, older Americans show majority
support.
The poll was conducted June 4-24, 2007, interviewing 2,388 adults nationwide, including 1,302 whites, 802 non-Hispanic
blacks, and 502 Hispanics. The total sample is weighted to reflect the proper proportions of each group in the U.S.
population. About one-quarter of the interviews with Hispanics were conducted in Spanish, with the remainder in English.
Overall Results
According to the poll, 77% of Americans say they
approve of marriages between blacks and whites,
while 17% say they disapprove. Public support for
black-white marriages is now at the high end of the
range of approval seen on this question since
Gallup first asked it almost 50 years ago. The latest
result essentially ties with the 76% approval rating
found in 2004.
Gallup's long-term trend on this question documents
a sea change in public attitudes about interracial
marriage. In 1958, only 4% of Americans said they
approved of marriages between whites and blacks.
(The precise wording of the Gallup question has
changed across the decades as the commonly
accepted descriptive terms for blacks have
changed; when Gallup first asked the question in
1958, the poll wording was, "whites and nonwhites.") Approval gradually increased over the next
few decades, but at least half of Americans
disapproved of black-white unions through 1983.
Then, in the next measure eight years later,
disapproval had fallen to 42%, with 48% approving.
In 1997, the next time Gallup asked the question, approval had jumped well into the majority, with nearly two in three
Americans saying they approved of marriages between blacks and whites. Disapproval fell to 27% in that same year.
Support remained at about the two-thirds level until 2002, but increased to 73% in 2003. Since then, there have only
been modest variations in attitudes about interracial marriages.
Peruvian Jews Collect for Quake Relief
By Barbara Fraser, August 21, 2007, JTA.org
A small storage area off the courtyard of Leon Pinelo School is piled high with boxes
and bags, as staff and volunteers sort through stacks of canned milk and bottled
water, huge sacks of rice and beans, diapers and other essentials.
On the second day after a magnitude 8.0 earthquake shook the southern coast of this
Andean country, killing at least 500 people, injuring more than 1,500 and leaving tens
of thousands homeless, students began arriving at the school carrying food, water,
clothing, sleeping bags and other relief items for the victims.
The collection is part of a two-pronged response to the disaster, according to John Gleiser, president of the Jewish
Association of Peru. The first step is delivery of emergency aid, while the second will focus on helping with long-term
reconstruction. "We are united with a single purpose,” said Elizabeth Vexelman, a spokeswoman for the committee
organizing the effort. Although the disaster "did not affect us personally, it did affect us as Peruvians."
The quake, which struck at 6:40 p.m. on Aug. 15, shook buildings in Lima, where most of Peru’s Jewish community lives,
but did little damage in the capital of 8 million people.
About 125 miles south, however, near the epicenter, it virtually destroyed the town of Pisco and leveled many buildings in
the towns of Ica and Chincha. Most of the houses that collapsed were older dwellings made of plaster-covered adobe
bricks. The prolonged tremor caused walls to buckle and roofs to collapse. In the fishing village of San Andrés, high
waves caused by the earthquake flooded houses and battered fishing boats, leaving them scattered on the streets.
The disaster brought an immediate response from Jewish leaders and entrepreneurs not just in Peru, but also in
Uruguay, Argentina and other countries. Because getting donated goods through Peruvian customs often results in
delays, a bank account was set up for donations from abroad. The funds will go to a longer-range post-quake project,
such as helping to rebuild a school or health center, Vexelman said.
Several American Jewish organizations are also raising money for the relief effort. And the Israeli government donated
half-a-ton of medicines and medical supplies as part of the relief effort. Embassy officials announced that the Israeli
government would provide food and housing assistance as well, and was evaluating the possibility of sending water
purification equipment. Peru is a popular destination for young tourists from Israel, but a spokeswoman for the Israeli
Embassy in Lima said no Israeli citizens were known to have been killed or injured in the disaster.
The disaster sparked an immediate outpouring of solidarity in Lima as businesses, churches and district governments set
up drop-off points for donations. Members of the student volunteer program at Leon Pinelo School immediately began
asking members of Lima’s three Jewish synagogues to donate relief supplies. By Aug. 19, between three and four tons of
supplies had arrived, and organizers were expecting four or five more tons, when they will load trucks to ship the items
south, Gleiser said.
Nearly all of Peru’s 3,000 Jews live in Lima. About half belong to the Union Israelita del Peru, while the rest are divided
between the Sociedad de Beneficiencia Israelita Sefaradi and the Sociedad Israelita de 1870.
Organizers of the relief effort have used cash donations to purchase several thousand blankets, more than 200 picks and
shovels, and huge cooking pots for the communal soup kitchens being set up in parks and shelters in Pisco, Ica and
Chincha. They decided to channel the assistance through Caritas, the Catholic Church’s humanitarian aid organization,
which has local representatives in the affected cities. "We are going to be very careful," Gleiser said, to get the aid "to the
people who really need it."
Israeli-inspired Youth Village for Rwandan Orphans Takes Shape
By Stephanie L Freid, August 26, 2007, Israel21C
In 2005 Anne Heyman sent an e-mail message from her Manhattan office to Israel's
director of the Yemin Orde Youth Village. "You don't know me," the message began
"but I hope you might be able to help me in my mission."
Said mission was to build a youth village in Rwanda for children orphaned during the late '90s genocide and model it after
the Yemin Orde Youth orphanage in Haifa, Israel.
Yemin Orde director Haim Peeri was forthcoming. He met with Heyman, offered advice and presented a model she could
emulate. A mere two years later, Heyman almost had to pinch herself as she stood alongside international dignitaries,
Rwandan orphans and Yemin Orde delegates at the groundbreaking ceremony for Agahozo-Shalom Youth Village last
week in Rubono, Rwanda. "Oh my God, this is really going to happen. It is real," Heyman recounted to ISRAEL21c. "I
know we still have lots of planning and lots of work to do to get where we need to be, but this village is real. We are
building it. And we really started today."
The project idea was sparked during a dinner conversation in New York between Heyman, a New York businesswomen
and philanthropist, and Paul Rusesabagina, the subject of the film Hotel Rwanda. "I asked Paul what the biggest problem
in Rwanda is and he told me that in a country where there are 1.2 million orphans out of a population of 8 million, there is
no future for that country," said Heyman.
His words motivated her action and soon after the Rwanda Agahozo-Shalom Village began taking shape. The village will
provide a comprehensive response to youth displacement by establishing a multi-faceted youth village based on the
concept of the village as home. Children are fostered by a holistic, protective environment to help them overcome trauma
and abandonment issues.
Agahozo-Shalom is being modeled after Yemin Orde because as a 28-year-old institute, the Israeli village has a
reputation for the work it carried out with children who have been orphaned, displaced or traumatized. A large percentage
of Yemin Orde's children are of Ethiopian origin largely due to trauma and displacement following Israel's covert 1980s
and 1991 airlifts out of Ethiopia. During the lifts, some children were orphaned and others faced cultural hardships upon
arrival to Israel.
Today, Ethiopian graduates of Yemin Orde are among Israel's leaders and motivators. The Agahozo-Shalom Village
initiative has incorporated Yemin Orde architectural, educational and philosophical standards and has involved creating
joint Rwandan-Israeli-Ethiopian teams that work side by side creating standards for the Rwandan village.
Teams have shuttled back and forth between Rwanda and Israel for more than a year attending meetings and lectures
and gleaning information on everything from channeling extra-curricular interests to fostering cultural practices to
troubleshooting problem areas. Rwanda's team spent long hours on Yemin Orde's campus to gain information about the
philosophies, functions and daily routines of Yemin Orde staff roles and to visually note layouts for modeling learning
annexes, living quarters, the dining room and recreation spaces in the Rwanda village.
At last week's groundbreaking ceremony, the delegations met again as the Ethiopian-Israeli team hoisted the village flag
alongside their Rwandan peers. Rwanda's Eastern District governor introduced Ethiopian-Israeli Advisory Team Director
Yisasschar Mekonen by noting that Mekonen had grown up at Yemin Orde and he wanted "the Rwandese children to
grow up to be as tall and handsome and elegant as Yisasschar."
Yemin Orde graduate Ethiopian-Israeli Racheli Ugado has been responsible for providing the Agahozo-Shalom Village
philosophy. "I'm here to help my brothers in Africa so that they can help themselves," she said during a recent delegation
collaboration in Israel. "It makes me feel good to help the place I came from. I'm very connected to it. I feel like it's my
country too."
Among notables attending last week's ceremony were Israel's Ambassador to Rwanda Yaakov Amitai, and senior
Rwandan government officials. Education Minister Mujawamariya's speech on "Restoring the Rhythm of Life" to
Rwanda's children a decade after the genocide included her incorporation of the Hebrew catchphrase "tikun olam" - i.e.
helping to make the world a better place - interspersed with KinyaRwandan.
The village and school is expected to be operational by 2009, a dream into action Heyman says couldn't have happened
without help from endless sources including the American Joint Distribution Council and Yemin Orde. "As a private citizen
I think this is a testament to the ability of each and every one of us to make a significant difference in the world,"
concluded Heyman. "If you have a good idea and believe in it strongly enough, there are others out there who will be only
too glad to help you make it happen."
IDENTITY
Indian Jews at Home in Queens
By Joseph Aranha, July 16, 2007, QueensTribune.com
India was one of only a few countries where the Jews from various parts of the world
who migrated there were not persecuted said Romiel Daniel, President of the Indian
Jewish Congregation of USA, who is also a Cantor in the Jewish faith. Daniel made
this statement when he spoke before a capacity filled crowd in the auditorium of the
Jewish Community Center in Manhattan last week.
Daniel spoke for an hour or so, but kept the crowd riveted to their seats with interesting details about the migration of
Jews from various parts of the world to India, where they settled, and prospered as artisans and businessmen. They first
arrived in India in 175 BC and built their first synagogue in 1144 AD in Parur in Kerala State. At its peak, India was
residence to about 40,000 Jews. Then from India these groups migrated to Israel and other parts of the world and in this
migration a group also came to the U.S., where they are now educating others about their Indian heritage.
Indian Jews are strongly represented in the Rego Park area of Queens, but they are also spread out in Brooklyn and New
Jersey. They are a small group of about 350 and are making their presence felt through lectures about their heritage in
various forums. Their services are performed in the Village Temple, exactly as they did many years ago in India, in the
Bene Israel tradition of the Indian Jews. Their motto is “Integration through Distinctiveness.”
This year, for the second time, they will also take part in the India Day parade in August and recently also took part in the
Israeli Day parade.
Lael Daniel, son of the President, assists his father in educating others about their Indian heritage. He mentioned how
their group had performed the services for Hanukkah in City Hall recently where A.R. Ghanashyam, the Deputy Consul
General for India, had been the Chief Guest.
Both Romiel and Lael Daniel, in their research, have found that the Jews of India consist of four distinct groups: the
Cochin Jews (in the State of Kerala), the Baghdadis, the Bene Israel and the B’nei Menashe. Today there are fewer than
5,000 Jews in India and their lives revolve around the 14 synagogues and two schools that still exist.
More than Kugel and Knishes: Harvard University's Sephardi Society
By Hillary W. Steinbrook, June 2007, PresentTenseMagazine.org
Until the fall semester of my second year of college, I thought that “Mizrahi” referred to a brand of shoes and purses. I did
not know about Mizrahi Jews, whose ancestors come from Middle Eastern countries, and who are often inaccurately
labeled as Sephardim, a term that connotes Jews whose ancestors come from the Iberian Peninsula. But halfway
through my sophomore year, I became more sensitive to such differences, thanks to my involvement with the Sephardi
Society at Harvard University.
Harvard’s Sephardi Society is not large – it boasts a Facebook group membership of only seventeen. However, its
existence seems to serve a positive role in students’ extracurricular lives. By promoting openness in the exploration of
Jewish backgrounds, the Sephardi Society aims to help students at Hillel and in the larger university community
understand that not all Jews proceeded directly from Eastern European shtetls to Lower East Side tenements to East
Coast suburbs, as many young American Jews believe. Open to individuals of all backgrounds, the Society divides the
Jewish population in order to expose differences in culture while uniting the community in celebrating Sephardic
traditions. This paradoxically promotes both pride in one’s own special heritage and a willingness to accept one another
as fellow members of “the tribe.”
The Sephardi Society aims to bring together Jewish students from diverse backgrounds, to uncover the variety of cultural
practices in the Harvard Hillel family and foster an inviting, comfortable atmosphere in which students can learn and
creatively contribute to the Jewish community. “Are We There Yet?” was a Shabbat dinner with a Caribbean menu that
incorporated both social and educational elements while honoring the previously unheralded participation of Sephardim in
Columbus’s expeditions.
Fliers with information about how Jews contributed to the exploration of the Americas through navigational and monetary
resources decorated the tables. Other dinners have included guest presentations on the Jews of Brazil, Turkey and
France, with international meals and traditional Sephardi tunes.
The Society has also hosted guest speakers on Sephardi-Jewish artists like French impressionist Camille Pisarro, and
screenings of movies like The Merchant of Venice that address Sephardi-Jewish communities.
Food is an important component of Sephardi culture; Claudia Roden’s The Book of Jewish Food, which includes
descriptions of past and present Jewish communities around the world, inspired members of the society to create
“Sephardi Knows How to Party,” a post-Passover study break celebration of the return of chametz. Students jammed to
Turkish and Ladino music while sampling delicious Middle Eastern pastries.
Students who participate in the events programmed by the Sephardi Society – whether those students are of Sephardi
heritage or not – are likely to discover that the individuals who have contributed to the rich, vibrant history of the Jewish
people are more diverse than we have been led to believe. This forum for Jewish education might serve as a useful
model on other campuses to create programs that are simultaneously educational and entertaining, and that expand the
definition of Jewish beyond the walls of the Eastern European shtetl experience.
The Sephardi Society does not rely mainly on electronic resources but rather prides itself on cultivating relationships with
students and community members who identify as Sephardi in order to brainstorm for events. Fostering connections
between individuals in every step of party planning, from the initial stages through the post-party clean-up, supports the
primary goal of the group: promoting community. This should be a feasible goal for any college campus enthusiastic to
broaden its cultural horizons.
The Joy of Judaism
By Sam Ser, August 30, 2007, The Jerusalem Post
There's nothing extraordinary about the way the students at Machon Miriam's
conversion class are engaged in afternoon prayer. Ditto for their modest dress, their
humble demeanor and their intense focus on the lesson about Jewish customs their
instructor is teaching.
Yet Ra'anana Birnbaum, who oversees the Machon Miriam ulpan, insists, "This is a very special, very unusual ulpan."
What is special here isn't something you can see. It is, however, something you can hear. What is so unusual about
these students is revealed in their native tongues of Spanish and Portuguese.
The dozens of people gathered in Machon Miriam's classrooms in Heichal Shlomo, adjacent to Jerusalem's Great
Synagogue, have come from Costa Rica, Chile, Argentina, Brazil, Uruguay, Colombia, Palma de Mallorca, Portugal,
Spain, Bolivia and Peru. One couple, Birnbaum says, has come from the farthest reaches of the Amazon.
Among them are people like Adriana, a Roman Catholic from Colombia who met her Jewish fiancé in London and has
moved with him to Israel; and Gisella, the daughter of a Jewish man and Catholic woman who has left Argentina to "find
herself" in Jerusalem. Many, many more are like Agison and Jerusa, two Bnei Anusim (descendants of Iberian Jews who
were forced to convert to Christianity during the Inquisition) from Brazil.
Agison first met Jerusa on a bus, making eyes at her "like in a soap opera." And like a mindbending soap opera plot twist,
the two happened to share family secrets of converso lineage. Agison's grandparents had come from Portugal and
maintained unusual, non-Catholic practices that he would later realize were Jewish customs. Although her father was
Catholic, Jerusa's mother steadfastly refused to go to church, part of a set of rules her own mother had established.
By the time they met, Agison and Jerusa knew they were Jewish. She wanted to live openly as Jews, but Agison was
hesitant."It took two years of marriage for me to convince him," Jerusa says, as her husband smiles sheepishly. The
decision was not a simple one. It was easier said than done. Their town had Jews, but they were secular, and could not
teach the couple much. There was no synagogue to provide communal prayer. So they made do as best they could,
following the Bible. Literally.
Without the benefit of knowledge of Jewish tradition, the couple improvised. For Pessah, they meticulously removed all
hametz from their home. They made fresh grape juice, slaughtered sheep and - without knowing exactly how they were
supposed to - baked their own matzot. They went to the fields to count the omer. On Succot, Agison wanted to gather for
himself the four species, but he wasn't sure which species to collect. For a mikve, Jerusa would travel to a secluded
beach near Rio de Janeiro.
And so it went for them. It took seven years to get their hands on Jewish books in Portuguese. Eventually they learned
about various halachot. While still in Brazil, the 30-something couple and their young children underwent conversion
through the Conservative movement. They made aliya last year - not as Agison and Jerusa, but as Eliahu and Rivka. The
changes have been extreme. Whereas in Brazil Eliahu owned a successful business selling packing materials, today he
works in maintenance. His wife works as a babysitter. "We didn't come here for a more lucrative lifestyle," he says,
knowing the suspicion with which Israelis often regard strangers.
Instead, they say, they came for experiences like their first traditional Seder, held in their spartan apartment in the Beit
Canada absorption center in southeast Jerusalem. And although they are citizens and already recognized by the Interior
Ministry as Jews, they are undergoing an Orthodox conversion now because they believe that only it is valid. "We came
to seek God," Eliahu says. "And so far, things are working out." Birnbaum, who is translating the narrative, beams with
pride for her students. "Here we have a human fabric that knows practically no bounds," she says.
The Ulpan is connected to Shavei Israel, an organization founded by Michael Freund that has become well known in
recent years for locating, educating and bringing here thousands of people around the world with previously unlooked-for
historic ties to the Jewish people.
Freund, who investigated the issue of anusim (who are also known by the derogatory terms marranos and chuetas, or
less offensively as conversos) and inspired the Chief Rabbinate to take an interest in it as well, calls the Machon Miriam
program "the best revenge against the inquisitors." But Freund and Birnbaum both know that the historical mysteries
inherent in the survival of the Bnei Anusim, and the economic hardship prevalent in many countries where they live, make
"faking it" an attractive option for those who do not actually have Jewish heritage. Both say they are very careful to weed
out impostors.
"We are very sensitive to those who may have Jewish roots," Birnbaum says. "At the same time, however, we are very
careful not to be exploited by those with illegitimate claims, who merely wish to come to Israel for a better life.
"I know these people," she adds. "I'm Latin myself."
Although she was born and raised in Jerusalem, she spent several years in Uruguay with her husband, Rabbi Eliahu
Birnbaum, who served as chief rabbi of the country. Birnbaum's father also served as chief rabbi of Uruguay for many
years.
"I can tell after 10-20 minutes whether someone is telling the truth about these things," she says, speaking in the rapidfire cadence common to many Spanish speakers. "I have been told by one woman who wanted to join our class - a
devout Christian - that she just wanted to bring her mother and sister to live out the rest of their days in Israel. That's why
I understand, as well, the strictness of the Interior Ministry and the Rabbinate. There's no end to the people who apply."
At the same time, Birnbaum says, "I see how those who are honest and sincere only become more serious [about the
classes] all the time. Listen, this is a difficult process. It's a year of bonding with a community, of coming to class twice a
week, seven hours at a time... someone who comes to this ulpan with ulterior motives won't be able to stand it."
Moreover, Birnbaum continues, "It doesn't matter to me why a person comes to convert. It doesn't matter to me whether
he comes because he has fallen in love with a Jew, or whether he has fallen in love with the Jewish people as a whole.
What matters to me is that, as soon as he has made that decision to convert, that he undergoes the process with a
sincere desire."
Gisalla's desire, says the shy 22-year-old from Argentina, is to "seek myself, to find an identity." That has been a painful
process so far for Gisella, who made aliya in 2003. The child of a Jewish father and a Catholic mother, she has been
wrestling since an early age with the question, "Who am I?" First, Gisella went to public school. Then she was sent to a
private school that taught both Catholic and Jewish children. Feeling part of neither crowd, she hung out with a small
group of kids who considered themselves atheists. Eventually, in a bid to "fit in," Gisella started to take lessons in
Christianity with the Catholic kids, but they wouldn't speak to her.
So, Gisella went back to public school. There, a strange thing happened when the drama class prepared a presentation
of the movie Sister Act, in which Whoopi Goldberg impersonates a nun. "My father absolutely refused to allow me to take
part in this," Gisella says. "He had never made much of a big deal about his being Jewish, but all of a sudden, the idea of
his daughter dressed up as a nun made him very upset."
The incident also compelled Gisella to explore what Judaism meant to her. After high school, she came to Israel. Once
again, she doesn't quite belong in any particular crowd. "Growing up, I suffered because of my Jewish name," she says.
"Now in Israel, I am treated as a non-Jew. When people hear that I am converting, they start testing my knowledge of
Judaism. Some people say, 'What, are you looking for more money in Israel?'
"I've learned to be inconspicuous about my past. It's easier for me that way." Gisella, however, is finding her way. She
has a job in telemarketing and is studying for her psychometric exams. She has a boyfriend ("He's religious," she notes)
who is helping her through the conversion process. More than a few times, Gisella thought of going back to Argentina.
Her parents, though, encouraged her to stay here. "They know," she says, "that there is something here that I need."
The transition from Spanish-speaking outsider to Hebrew-speaking Israeli immigrant is a complicated one. The Machon
Miriam staff tries to make that transition as smooth as possible. "When someone comes to us," says Birnbaum, "I ask,
'Do you have a community? Do you have an adoptive family?' If not, we provide them with one. We have a network of
graduates who support and guide the students on their path to a new life. They have connections to communities, to
rabbis, to synagogues. We make sure students find jobs. There's a lot of 'togetherness' here."
There is also, she says, a focus on more than just basic knowledge of Bible stories. "My approach is that conversion is a
cultural transformation as well as a religious one, so students need to learn about everything - about society, about
history, about culture, about Halacha, about faith and dogma. That's why this is such a broad curriculum.
"For example, when they walk down the street, the students see so many different modes of dress, just within the
religious community - many different kinds of kippot, so many different kinds of women's head coverings. There are
cultural codes to understand. So we teach them the history of the Jewish people, we teach them Hebrew literature... but
we also teach them about these Jewish cultural cues." All these elements, Birnbaum says, add up to success.
When the ulpan's graduates stand before the Chief Rabbinate's conversion court judges, she says, "they are so well
prepared that 99 percent of them pass their tests. I can count on my hands the number of students who, over the years,
haven't passed." The connection does not end there, however. Graduates are welcome, even encouraged, to hold their
weddings and bar and bat mitzva celebrations at the ulpan. The organization's social network is mobilized to ensure that
new converts aren't simply thrown into their new surroundings.
"You have to remember," Birnbaum says, "that the conversion process is difficult even after the conversion itself. You're
in a state of euphoria. Your whole life has changed. But everyone sees you as the same person they knew yesterday.
Work doesn't just fall from the sky, nor does a spouse, nor do friends. There's always an emotional let-down after
conversion. So we always try to guide them through it, and beyond. Converts need to acclimate to life after the
conversion. It may sound very easy to someone who doesn't understand it, but it can be very hard."
The current class is Machon Miriam's ninth. Overall, about 500 students have finished the course. The surface, Birnbaum
says, has just begun to be scratched. "We have a full class right now, and there are more people waiting to get in.
There's never a situation where our classrooms aren't full to bursting."
COMMUNITIES AROUND THE WORLD
India's Jews
By Gary Weiss, August 13, 2007, Forbes.com
There's no question that India's secularism is under strain. Militant Hinduism remains
as much a potent force as extremist Islam. The ongoing bloodletting in Kashmir is an
open sore, and the periodic spasms of communal violence in Gujarat, combined with
memories of the Mumbai bombings of 2006, have led to undeniable tensions. Just
have a chat sometime with a Kashmiri Pandit--a Hindu displaced from that war-torn
region--and you will know what I mean.
Yet this country of 1 billion largely impoverished people, home of the second-largest
Muslim population in the world, still manages to maintain a sturdy system of
democracy based on respect for religious and ethnic diversity. In the U.S., diversity is
a politically correct slogan. In India it is a historical fact. Much as we in the West may
resent it, India has a lot to teach us when it comes to religious tolerance.
To my mind, the best example of that can be found in the remarkable story of a tiny minority--India's Jewish community.
India may be the only country in the world that has been free of anti-Semitic prejudice throughout its history. As the
Jewish genealogical journal Avotaynu recently observed in an article on one Indian Jewish group, "The Bene Israel
flourished for 2,400 years in a tolerant land that has never known anti-Semitism, and were successful in all aspects of the
socio-economic and cultural life of the people of the region."
That's really a bit astonishing, if not ridiculous, when you think about it. Compare that with any Western nation, be it
France or Russia or even the U.S., where discrimination against Jews in housing was a fact of life as recently as the
1950s. But in "backward" India, from the beginning, the Jewish communities have not only been free of discrimination but
have dominated the commercial life of every place where they have settled--something that has fed traditional European
anti-Semitism.
Why has India remained free of this scourge? Various reasons have been advanced for that--such as, the Hindu religion
does not seek to convert those from other faiths. What we do know is that anti-Semitism seems alien to the Indian
character. And if you don't believe me, I suggest you take a trip to a southern Indian town called Kochi, in the state of
Kerala. There you can find the physical evidence of this glaring historical anomaly.
Kochi, formerly called Cochin, is a former European settlement with a large Christian population and a seafaring heritage.
It is a town of enormous charm that reminds some visitors of the Caribbean more than India. On a shabby lane in Kochi
you can find a complex of four 439-year-old buildings--the Paradesi Synagogue.
There you have Exhibit A for India's tradition of secularism and day-to-day tolerance of religious diversity: the fact that
this synagogue exists at all.
Kochi's Jews trace their descent back to 700 B.C., and lived in harmony with their Muslim and Hindu neighbors until--well,
I guess I’ll have to backtrack a bit on my claim that there was never anti-Semitism in India. There was quite a bit in the
16th century.
Kochi's Jews were indeed persecuted--not by Indians but by the Portuguese, following in the glorious traditions of the
Inquisition. With the help of the Hindu maharaja and the Dutch, Kochi's Jewish community rebuilt its synagogue, burned
by the Portuguese, in its current location near his maharajah's palace. It has remained there, unmolested, ever since.
The Jews of Kochi are largely gone now, mostly emigrated to Israel, but it remains a very Jewish landmark in a very nonJewish country. The synagogue, at least when I last visited it, had none of the heavy security that is common in large
New York City synagogues. A short distance away is a Jewish cemetery, and again the distinction is in what you don't
see--there's none of the overturned headstones and vandalism that have been sadly common in Jewish cemeteries in the
U.S. Yes, even in Brooklyn.
It's pretty much the same story elsewhere in India. Separate Jewish communities were established over the years in
Mumbai, where the Bene Israel arrived over 2,000 years ago, and in Kolkata, where a more recent community of Middle
Eastern "Baghdadi" Jews became established. In the northeast of India is the Bnai Menashe, who trace their origins to
the Israelite tribe of Menasseh.
The Indian Jewish community has never been very large, with the Bene Israel numbering just 35,000 at its peak in the
1950s. Yet Indian Jews have achieved distinction far beyond their numbers. A great many chose to make a career in the
military under the Raj (British rule that ended with independence 60 years ago this week)--a phenomenon that, believe
me, is certainly foreign to the Eastern European Jewish experience.
Indeed, the most well-known Indian Jew is an eminent soldier: Lt. Gen. J.F.R. Jacob, who commanded Indian forces in
the invasion of East Pakistan in 1971. Other Indian Jews achieved distinction in Bollywood, such as the pioneering
actress Sulochana, queen of the Indian silent movies. It would probably surprise most Seinfeld fans to learn that Brian
George, who played the sad-sack Pakistani restaurant owner Babu Bhatt, is an Israeli of Indian descent.
To be sure, the small size of the Jewish community has meant that the Jews of India never rose to become a political
force. As a community it has never exerted any influence on Indian politics, and certainly not on the rabidly anti-Israel
foreign policy that has marked much of India's modern history. In other countries, the absence of Jewish communal
influence--or even the absence of Jews--has not prevented rulers from using Jews as scapegoats. Poland of the late
1960s, the era of "anti-Semitism without Jews," is a good example.
All this has a way of mystifying Indians. I've always had difficulty with Indians when we've discussed anti-Semitism. They
don't understand it, and to tell you the truth, I've had difficulty explaining it myself.
Indians are sometimes accused of being condescending toward Westerners, and of being excessively preachy in their
attitude toward other nations. That accusation is sometimes correct. But when it comes to India's treatment of one of its
smallest and most vulnerable minorities, there is ample reason to be both condescending--and proud.
Barcelona Restoring Jewish Quarter - But Local Jews Say They Feel Ignored
By Reuvan Friedman, August 2, 2007, j. Weekly
Barcelona is restoring its old Jewish quarter, but the local Jewish community says it’s
being shut out of the process.
In the Middle Ages, Barcelona’s Jewish community of 4,000 people played an integral role in the city. Acting as a bridge
to immigrants from throughout the Mediterranean, the local Jews spoke Greek, Hebrew, Spanish, Catalan, Latin and
Arabic.
But in 1391, anti-Jewish riots moved up the Iberian Peninsula. A large number of Barcelona’s Jews were forced out, killed
or converted. Similar projects have been carried out in other Spanish cities such as nearby Gerona, where Jewish life
also flourished.
These programs are part of a government initiative to restore ancient Jewish neighborhoods throughout the country and
present them as tourist attractions. What distinguishes the Barcelona initiative is the presence there of a modern Jewish
community numbering about 5,000. But representatives of the city’s Orthodox, Reform and Chabad communities say they
are being ignored in the initiative.
“We very much appreciate that City Hall is finally getting involved in restoring its Jewish past,” said Tobi Burdman,
president of the Israelite Community of Barcelona. “What we don’t want to see is a Jewish quarter without Jews, in the
style of Gerona. Here there’s a living Jewry, one that should be listened to and consulted with, and not just called up to
appear in the photo.”
Adding to the community’s resentment has been the issue of Montjuic, or “Mountain of the Jews,” in Catalan. Known for
its massive sports stadium, which hosted the 1992 Olympic Games, Montjuic also is the location of one of the oldest and
largest Jewish cemeteries in Europe. In 2001, more than 500 tombs were discovered during construction on the
mountain, but still there are no monuments commemorating its historic importance.
A meeting in late November between urban planners and community members addressed Jewish concerns about
construction plans that would affect the area where the cemetery lies. Community members at the meeting said some
progress had been made in terms of protecting the site and eventually placing a monument there. One community
spokesman said there seemed to be a slight difference in attitude among city planners dealing with Montjuic and those in
charge of the restoration of Call, who he said had been “completely unreceptive.”
Regarding the old Jewish quarter, Teresa Serra, a City Hall official dealing with the project, said the city is restoring the
quarter as it would any other historic area in Barcelona. “The only difference is that there will be a center of cultural
reference for the neighborhood involving everything from the Jewish epoch,” Serra said.
Community members say they would like to play at least some role, even something as minor as reviewing texts,
brochures or museum signs. But Serra said the city has yet to receive a clear proposal for participation from the
community. Some community members insist they’ve asked to meet with city officials to discuss drafting a proposal. But
sources have acknowledged past divisiveness and said the community is just beginning to make its voice heard in a
unified fashion.
Many Barcelona Jews have initiated efforts to restore the quarter, notably Miguel Iaffa. Inspired by the findings of a
medieval historian that pointed to the location of the quarter’s main synagogue before the 1391 pogrom, Iaffa purchased
a portion of the site in 1996 and restored it, preventing the space from being turned into a pub.
In 2006, Jewish residents celebrated the renovation of Barcelona’s oldest synagogue, dating from the 9th century,
walking the Torah scroll to the site. “That the city is now trying to reap the benefits of our efforts to recover the
neighborhood seems perfectly fine with me,” Iaffa said. “But they’re doing it with a sectarian spirit ... What they’re
interested in is having American Jews come and do tourism and spend money like they do in Gerona. They’re not
interested in us at all.”
Various sources, including those in City Hall, said anti-Israel feeling has affected the city’s attitude on some level.
Serra admitted that biases regarding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict had to some degree “contaminated the atmosphere”
around the renovation project. “There is an anti-Semitic attitude here because of this problem of anti-Israelism that
influences everything,” said Pilar Rahola, a former legislator from the Catalan Left Party. “With respect to City Hall, the
government of Barcelona, like the government of Spain, prefers ‘Jewish stones’ to living Jewish people.”
Rahola, who is not Jewish, added that while the rest of Spain is at least interested in uncovering its Jewish past, this is
not the case in Barcelona. “There’s no desire to even recuperate the medieval past,” she said. “We’re faced with an
administration that has a strong allergy to the Jewish topic, even though it might not clearly practice anti-Semitism.”
The Turkish Paradox
By Yoni Teitz, July 2007, The Jewish Week
I am standing outside the Ortaköy Synagogue in Istanbul, waiting to daven Shacharit
and staring at the barrel of a submachine gun. Security officials need to check our
passports. Again. No passport, no religion.
This is only one of the paradoxes of Turkey, the country where the army issued a statement threatening to interfere in
elections if a religious Muslim is elected. Yet armed police guard the synagogues protecting freedom of religion.
Turks take their secularism very seriously. Mustafa Kamel Ataturk’s frowning face looks down from signs on every
building, silently watching, reminding Turks that patriotism is God now.
Even the Jewish community, which has its fair share of deeply rooted traditions and unique attitudes, has not escaped
Ataturk’s glare. When being a Turk manifests itself in ways that are contrary to Judaism, Ataturk always wins. Kippot are
never worn, not even in the company of other Jews or in a Jewish school, only in synagogue and only during services.
Rabbi Jacob J. Schacter, professor and senior scholar at Yeshiva University’s Center for the Jewish Future, said that
“[Turkish Jews] want to be accepted as part of the larger Turkish republic and so have adopted its fundamental value
system,” but do not necessarily believe in it. Instead Turkish Jews desperately try to fit into a society that — between its
Muslim majority and secular government — has little room for them.
Religious fanaticism takes on a new significance in Turkey. To the secular Turk, religion itself is considered fanatical.
Anyone seen praying in a synagogue is labeled as strange. There is no concept of modern, thinking people involving
themselves in religion; these concepts are mutually exclusive. It is impossible to live in both worlds.
The new secular elite needs malls and Starbucks. A young Jewish Turk we met told us Starbucks tastes better than
Turkish coffee anyway.
But the Turkish Jewish community is slowly changing this misconception. Today, Turkish Jewry is growing by leaps and
bounds. There is a renaissance of Jewish learning. Turkish Jews who would never be seen in a synagogue are now
going and staying for classes and programs.
The Jewish community in Turkey has existed in some form since the 4th century BCE. Jews attained high positions in the
sultan’s court as physicians and treasurers. After the expulsion from Spain in 1492 the sultan welcomed the Jews and
their business to the Turkish Empire where the Jews who could get there settled and generally lived comfortably.
After the Turkish War of Independence the modern Republic of Turkey was founded on Oct. 29, 1923. Ataturk became
the first president. “Our country has some elements who gave the proof of their fidelity to the motherland. Among them I
have to quote the Jewish element; up to now the Jews have lived in happiness and from now they will rejoice and will be
happy,” President Ataturk said in February 1923.
Seventy years later, the Beth Israel and Neve Shalom synagogues in Istanbul are blown up by al Qaeda truck bombs.
Twenty-seven people, mostly Turkish Muslims, are killed and over 300 injured.
The Neve Shalom Synagogue, located in the Beyolu district across the Golden Horn from the old city, holds Jewish
weddings almost daily. The bride and groom stand together under a wedding canopy framed by bits of shrapnel still stuck
in the wall.
Aaron Ashkenazi, a Jewish teen whose family has lived in Istanbul for over 500 years, was there that fateful day, Nov. 15,
2003. He rescued the Torah scrolls from the remains of the synagogue. Aaron says that despite all this he has never
been in a situation where he felt unsafe among the mostly Muslim population. He simply believes that there are “crazy
people in every country” and that Turkey is no exception.
I take my obligatory tourist photo. Today we will tour 10 of Istanbul’s synagogues, get our passports checked ten times,
and say teshekkür to 10 heavily armed police officers.
The Ahrida Synagogue in Balat, the Jewish quarter on the European side of Istanbul, is the oldest synagogue in use
today. It is famous for its tevah, an ark-shaped platform in the middle of the synagogue where the cantor stands.
We were very late for the tour and two older women with a big brown dog begrudgingly opened the gate for us. There are
no lights; the floors are coated with dust and in the middle stands a beautiful wooden boat.
Before the thought even enters our mind the old woman appears “No photo!” she screams. We jump. “No photo,” her
friend repeats. No photos indeed.
We begin scouting out the scene, waiting to pounce when they are not looking but the women are quick and confiscate
one of our cameras. We sit down in desperation, if nothing else we will get a mental photo. But they shoo us out.
Once in the courtyard one of the women mumbles that she will allow us to take a photo from the outside. No one else
hears, but I decide to take her up on the offer and steady my camera for the shot.
The flash goes off, the dog pounces. I am on the ground, the dog has my leg. I kick, get away, and run towards the exit.
The women are amused.
The dog has knocked some sense into me; I am beginning to understand.
From the perspective of the women of the Ahrida Synagogue, we are simply a group of camera wielding Americans. We
can feel no connection to the place they guard, we can have no part in it. They are stuck in the classic Turkish frame of
mind where religion and modernity cannot coexist.
The struggle of the new Turkish Jewry and indeed all of Turkish society, is to find a feasible balance. With the growing
size and influence of Islam in Turkey, it is likely that the balance will be shifted far to the other side towards religious
fanaticism and an Islamic state. It is yet to be seen exactly how these two forces will interact in the long term.
Murat Bildirici, a leader of Istanbul’s Jewish community, says that while living this paradox day in and day out the two
diametrically opposed influences simply blur. When asked to describe which he felt more significantly—religion or
secularism—he simply answered, “I believe it is both.”
Turkey will not survive as a society of extremes. The only hope for a modern Turkey and the only hope for the Jews is to
stare right back at Ataturk and bravely charge down the middle road.
Yoni Teitz
Grade: senior at the Marsha Stern Talmudical Academy in Manhattan.
ARTS & CULTURE
A Persian Joseph K.
By Rebecca Milzoff, August 21, 2007, Forward.com
The Septembers of Shiraz
By Dalia Sofer
Ecco Books, 340 pages, $24.95.
At its outset, Dalia Sofer’s novel, “The Septembers of Shiraz,” seems destined to be “The Trial: Tehran,” the story of a
man wrongfully arrested and very belatedly informed of his supposed crime. But Sofer’s protagonist, Isaac Amin, is no
Josef K., who comparatively gets off rather easily until his brutal execution. In this engrossing debut novel, the arrest is
simply the jumping-off point after which the author gracefully unfolds details, showing just how entangled Amin is, like it or
not, with the people and places of his immediate world.
The story is one with which Sofer, a young escapee of post-Shah Iran, is no doubt intimately familiar.
Isaac, a self-made man and successful gem dealer, meets the fate of so many other well-off Iranians when, at the hands
of Revolutionary Guards, he is shipped off to prison. He leaves much physically behind from which he has already
become estranged: a coddled wife, Farnaz; a quiet daughter, Shirin, and a 20-something son, Parviz. The son traveled to
Brooklyn shortly before the Shah’s deposition. The Amins are Jewish (though not at all religious), and Judaism becomes
their incriminating label in the mullahs’ new Iran. Weeks into his prison stay, Isaac learns that he is accused of being a
Zionist spy, based on trips made to Israel to visit family members.
Much to Sofer’s credit, the author lets her characters tell the story from here on, resulting in a narrative that rarely takes
on the “Woe is us” tone it so easily could.
With each chapter told from the perspective of a different family member, Sofer’s own judgment never surfaces as an
overbearing imposition; while she certainly focuses on the base unfairness and brutality of Isaac’s arrest and on his
family’s predicament, she frames the Amins as a family so detached from their country’s present condition as to have
become perhaps not entirely blameless in its fate.
This detachment comes in different forms for each family member, but above all, Isaac remains the most alienated. The
occupation of gem dealer suits him well for Sofer’s purposes; dating from his autumn studies of poetry in the exotic city of
Shiraz, he has been drawn to jewels of all sorts — poetic or emerald in form — which require care, inspection and an
artistic eye to fully realize their ideal form. And though this attention to beauty wins him an aristocratic wife and wealth, it
also gives Amin a focus, allowing him to ignore the city around him as it falls apart. Tehran is a bustling metropolis, but
through Sofer’s prose it seems oddly quiet and mysterious. Isaac and his family exist separately from it, and Isaac in
particular seems to prefer the grandeur of the Persian past, and the romance of his own, to the city and family that day by
day grow further out of his own purview.
It is in prisons of opposite sorts that the novel’s two most compelling characters — Isaac and his lost son, Parviz —
discover the subject upon which Sofer dwells with more remove, but equal strength. Religion is both suffocating and
freeing to these men. In prison, Isaac finds himself praying for the first time in a long while, but only briefly in Hebrew;
reading the Quran, memorizing its lines, is ironically what ultimately saves his life. Though Isaac is no Muslim “converso,”
the simple concept of a God — even the God of a people turned violent — gives him a shred of hope. Conversely, Parviz
feels trapped by the constant displays of Judaism around him in Brooklyn. Though he observes that “New York loves
expanse,” his immediate community is one of exclusivity and smallness, and one that he cannot bring himself to
penetrate, even with love as a motivating force.
Much like a similar author, Jhumpa Lahiri, Sofer successfully uses the rich details of a sense-saturated country to
emphasize how alone her characters feel despite an appearance of family and comfort. In “The Septembers of Shiraz,”
she frequently mentions the ghazal, a simple, traditional Persian poem in which, at the end, the author invokes himself.
As the novel ends, one ghazal in particular seems appropriate: “Of the thing I loved, do not ask of me/I have become
naught, speck of dust so fine.” Like Isaac and his family, Sofer no doubt lost much of herself as her homeland changed
and forced her to leave. As Isaac learns, and as Sofer elegantly demonstrates in this novel, the loss of a home can be but
one in a greater series: The true survivor is one who learns to preserve his identity.
Must Read for Any Interfaith Couple
By Rachel Freedenberg, June 29, 2007, j. Weekly
Inside Intermarriage:
A Christian Partner’s Perspective on Raising a Jewish Family
by Jim Keen
135 pages, URJ Press, $15.95
I know it’s a horrible cliché to use the phrase “If you buy only one book about… ,” but
indulge me for a minute. If you buy one book about intermarriage, let it be this one.
I knew this might be the perfect book for me from the very beginning. You see, I’m not
what most people would consider to be the “typical” person to get into an interfaith
relationship. I’m a Conservative Jew. I went to Jewish day school. I keep kosher.
Being Jewish is a big part of my life and the way I identify myself. Unfortunately, most
people think of Jews who date non-Jews as those for whom Judaism doesn’t mean
much. This may be true in some cases — but not in mine.
That’s why I was so glad to “meet” Bonnie Keen, wife of Jim Keen, who wrote the
drably titled but useful “Inside Intermarriage: A Christian Partner’s Perspective on
Raising a Jewish Family.” Bonnie considers herself Conservative, like me. Her father
was raised Orthodox. She celebrates holidays a lot of non-Jews don’t even know
about. And her family didn’t take lightly the news that she was engaged to a Protestant.
Sure, her story has a happy ending — her father came around, and her reluctant grandmother attended the wedding after
all — but there were more than a few bumps in the road. Bonnie, however, isn’t the voice of the book — that would be
Jim, her husband. “Inside Intermarriage” is billed as “the first and only book on intermarriage written from a Christian
father’s perspective.” The viewpoint of the non-Jewish partner is rare in interfaith literature. That Jim has written an entire
book about raising his family Jewish is truly admirable.
Jim explains early on that, while he loves his wife and respects her traditions, he doesn’t want to convert. At times I found
myself asking “Why not?” as Jim tossed around Yiddish phrases and described his love for Jewish customs like Shabbat
dinner. But for the most part it’s pretty obvious: Jim observes Jewish customs sometimes because he enjoys them, but
mostly to honor his wife and make her happy.
He starts with when he met Bonnie, describing their courtship, meeting the parents and eventually proposing. From there,
the book branches out to lifecycle events (starting with the Keens’ wedding), then segues into parenting. Jim discusses
their decision to raise their two daughters Jewish, and how they navigate the difficulties that come with that. Another
section covers some of the major Jewish holidays.
The last section of the book is devoted to Jim’s faith. In these chapters, he discusses his needs as a non-Jew and how he
fits into the Jewish community.
While most books about intermarriage are primarily focused on the Jewish angle, it’s refreshing that Jim discusses why
being a Christian is so important to him — a reminder that sometimes a partner who doesn’t want to convert isn’t just
trying to avoid the hassle. One of the best things about this book is that it’s so easy to read. Jim writes in a
conversational, casual tone and is pretty funny — without dumbing down anything. And although his explanations of
Jewish customs might be somewhat repetitive for readers already familiar with them, they are mercifully brief.
I did have a few problems with the book, though, staring with Jim’s tendency to present an idealized version of an
interfaith marriage. Yes, the Keens sometimes have problems, but they always seem to understand each other perfectly
and solve their issues in ways they are entirely content with. It was all just a bit too neat for me.
And let’s face it — Jim’s attitude toward Judaism, while maybe not in the extreme minority, is certainly more accepting
than most. He seems to take almost effortlessly to many of the more arcane and esoteric Jewish customs that I would
guess many Jews have trouble explaining to their non-Jewish partners (much less convincing them to participate in). And
he occasionally veers into Pollyannaism, like when he says he admires Bonnie’s great-uncle for refusing to attend their
wedding because he was standing up for what he believes in. It took him “a few days” to realize that, he acknowledges.
Still, it seems a little too forgiving.
Despite its minor flaws, I would put this book on the must-read list for any interfaith couple. It’s hard not to be charmed
and inspired by the Keens, even if they do seem a tad too perfect.
Kibbitz Cover Girl: Sophie Okonedo
By Molly Beth Martin , June 2007, American Jewish Life Magazine
Yes, Sophie Okonedo is black and Jewish — and no, we
couldn't fit everyone into our Black Issue (Jan/Feb '07), though
not for lack of trying. Her Nigerian father and white Jewish
mother split when Okonedo was young, and she and her mother
moved into the "council housing" of London (on this side of the
pond, we call those the projects). Okonedo told Newsweek that
a government official once came to their door and wondered
why a public housing apartment would have so many books
inside. Luckily for Okonedo, those books may have sparked her
interest in the writing workshop that started her career.
Apparently, Okonedo was better at dramatic readings than
penning her own works, and her writing teacher encouraged the acting bug. He had the right idea; Okonedo soon landed
a choice scholarship to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, sparking a stage career that started with the Royal
Shakespeare Company. Her screen acting is not so shabby either; she was nominated for an Academy Award for best
supporting actress for her starring turn in Hotel Rwanda. From public housing to Academy Award nominee, Okonedo's
career sounds crazy enough to be a movie in its own right.
But that will have to wait, since Okonedo appears on the big screen this month in The Martian Child, with another one of
our tribe favorites, Amanda Peet. She also has three other films in production this year. But don't get too excited.
Okonedo has said that she can't go more than a year without returning to her theater roots. That's great, if you have a flat
(or perhaps a council house) in London. The rest of us will just have to get our Okonedo fill at the movies, since the
second annual AJL Black Issue is still oh-so-far away.
PRESERVING JEWISH HERITAGE
Small Community in Armenia Strives to Preserve its Heritage
By Yasha Levine, September 7, 2006, JTA
A community of rural residents in the former Soviet Union, descended
from Russian peasants who converted to Judaism two centuries ago, may soon be
consigned to the dustbin of history. Mikhail Zharkov, the 76-year-old leader of
Armenia's tiny Subbotnik community, says only 13 of the 30,000 people living in his
small alpine town of Sevan are Subbotniks. There are three men and 10 women, and
all are nearing the age of 80. The community in Sevan is part of an estimated 10,000
to 15,000 Subbotniks spread across the former Soviet Union.
Zharkov, a retired welder who is wiry and full of energy and has a head full of white hair, estimates that about 2,000
Subbotniks lived in Sevan during the community's zenith in the 1930s.
Located at an altitude of 6,000 feet, Lake Sevan's turquoise waters were seen as a vast exploitable natural resource.
After Armenia became a Soviet republic in the 1930s, the lake fell victim to disastrous Soviet planning and industrial
expansion.
During Soviet rule, the Subbotniks' religious freedom, which had helped preserve their identity for almost two centuries,
vanished along with their prime waterfront real estate. According to Zharkov, Soviet authorities confiscated the Subbotnik
synagogue in the mid-1930s. It has since been privatized, and the building no longer belongs to the community.
An unknown number of Subbotniks from elsewhere in the region immigrated to Israel after the fall of the Soviet Union, but
community members in Sevan never dreamed of leaving for Israel. In Sevan, Soviet repression, combined with Armenia's
difficult economic conditions after the fall of communism 15 years ago, tore into the fabric of the community. "My son,
who is 48, and daughter, who is 36, are in Moldova. And of course they have been baptized," Zharkov said. "They did it
without consulting me or my wife. My daughter had to. She married a Russian Orthodox man."
Zharkov's family situation is mirrored in the rest of the community. Sevan's Subbotniks have dispersed all over the former
Soviet Union and offer no financial assistance to their parents, Zharkov says. "We lead a simple life, but life has become
very expensive. Without the aid of the Jewish community, we would have a very tough time," he said. "Our pensions are
meager, not even enough to cover utilities."
The Armenian office of Hesed Avraham, a welfare center sponsored by the American Jewish Joint Distribution
Committee, periodically provides the Subbotniks with food packages.
The Subbotniks' mysterious 19th-century conversion to Judaism, strict adherence to the Torah and staunch refusal to
convert back to Christianity exposed them to repression and persecution. During the rule of Czar Alexander I in the first
quarter of the 19th century, Subbotniks were deported en masse to remote parts of the Russian Empire. According to
Michael Freund, founder of Shavei Israel, an Israel-based organization that reaches out to "lost Jews," the Subbotniks
are spread out in small pockets across remote corners of the former Soviet Union.
The Last Jew in Afghanistan Has No Plans to Leave
By Jason Motlagh, July 11, 2007, WorldPoliticsReview.com
The first question Zebulon Simentov asked his uninvited guest, eyes wide open at the
prospect: "Are you Jewish?"
There was a tinge of disappointment when the reply came back negative, but the last Jew standing in Afghanistan didn't
miss a beat. "Humanity is one, religion doesn't matter," he said.
Moments later, a Muslim friend entered the room, unfurled a prayer rug in the corner and bowed toward Mecca. An open
box of Manischewitz motsas sat next to an empty bottle of booze on a table nearby.
Locals refer to Simentov, 47, simply as "the Jew." Originally from the western city of Herat, he dons a yarmulke with his
shalwar kameez and swears "half of Kabul" knows him -- though probably not for the reasons he'd like to believe. His
only other coreligionist in the country, Yitzhak Levin, died in January 2005. The pair had lived together in the Flower
Street synagogue through the Soviet invasion, the civil war and the Taliban regime.
And they famously grew to hate each other. Among other antics, they held separate services, had vicious shouting
matches neighbors say could be heard down the street, and denounced each other to the Taliban as spies for Israel's
Mossad intelligence agency. Both received beatings for their trouble.
According to Simentov, the fight broke out nearly a decade ago when Jewish elders told him to bring Levin -- more than
20 years his senior -- to Israel. Levin would not budge, and each man accused the other of wanting to sell the synagogue
for profit.
When valuable Torah scrolls went missing, the blame game resumed until a Taliban court acquitted Simentov. The Torah
was never recovered. So intense were their subsequent spats that Afghan police suspected Simentov of murder when
Levin died, until a post-mortem examination showed natural causes.
Now Simentov lives alone in the crumbling two-story building, where wrought-iron railings in a Star of David motif could
use a fresh coat of blue paint and the courtyard garden has gone to waste. With a brush of the hand, he dismissed
having a change of heart since his rival's death. No love has been lost. These days no one comes to worship at the
synagogue anymore but he continues to pray every day and keep kosher, he said.
A couple of years back he paid a visit to the rabbi of Tashkent in Uzbekistan, who gave him the authority to kill his own
animals, since no other qualified Jew could be found for hundreds of miles. This was not always the case, Simentov said,
explaining that there were more than 40,000 Jews in Afghanistan at the turn of the 19th century, as Persian Jews fled
from forced conversions in neighboring Iran.
The establishment of the state of Israel in 1948 and the 1979 Soviet invasion combined to empty the community. Oddly,
Simentov said he preferred the communist period and even the Taliban to the current government, which he called a
"mafia regime." He said he was a successful carpet and antiques dealer until state customs "stole" a container full of
$40,000 worth of his goods on bogus grounds, leaving him with nothing but the synagogue.
Although Simentov's wife and two daughters left for Israel years ago, he has no plans of joining them any time soon.
He is concerned there may be a property dispute with Levin's son over the synagogue, which is worth a hefty sum for its
central location in one of the capital's main commercial districts.
"Go to Israel? What business do I have there," he said, noting that he doesn't speak Hebrew. "Why should I leave?"
In the courtyard below, Shirgul Amiri, 20, watered a bed of pathetic looking roses.He said he comes to the synagogue a
couple days a week at his parents' request to keep Simentov company, acknowledging that the old man is in a grumpy
mood more often than not. "He drinks a lot and is very impatient," the boy laughed. "But if you had brought a bottle of
whiskey he would have been in heaven."
Shanghai's Tombstone Raider Uncovers Forgotten Jewish History
By Barbara Koh, March 28, 2007, Bloomberg.com
As Shanghai busily flattens its distinctive, 80-year-old neighborhoods in pursuit of a high-rise future, Dvir Bar-Gal is
scouring swamps, construction sites and cabbage fields for an all-but-forgotten past.
In sidewalks, ditches and piles of rubble, Bar-Gal, a 41- year-old Israeli photojournalist, searches for slabs with a sign -- a
Hebrew character, a Torah shape, a Star of David -- that identifies the long-lost headstones of Shanghai's once-thriving
Jewish community.
His efforts have unearthed 85 gravestones from the 1870s to the 1950s. There's Solomon Kapel's marble slab, dredged
from a stream, bearing the Hebrew epitaph a "great student of the Bible," who died in 1946 at 28 "of tragic events."
In a pavement, a book-shaped stone betrayed the Yiddish- etched grave marker of a Polish refugee author. The broken,
1958 white marble stone of Leeds-born optometrist Charles Percival Rakusen, a ladies' man and member of the family
that started British matzo-bakers Rakusen Ltd., covered a sewage drain.
In the late 1940s, Shanghai had a Jewish population of about 25,000 and four Jewish cemeteries with 3,700 graves.
Sephardim from Baghdad and Bombay had arrived in the 1840s, building business dynasties on opium, tea and property,
including landmarks such as the Peace Hotel.
The city later became a sanctuary for Russian Jews fleeing revolution and pogroms, followed by 20,000 European Jews
escaping Nazi persecution, among them Werner Michael Blumenthal, who became Treasury Secretary under Jimmy
Carter.
Smashed Gravestones
After the Communist Party seized power in 1949, China became isolated from much of the world. In 1958, foreign graves
in Shanghai were transplanted to a newly designated international cemetery on the city's western edge.
Then came the Cultural Revolution (1966-76). The new cemetery was vandalized and gravestones smashed, hauled off
or flung in nearby creeks.
In 2001, Bar-Gal learned of two Hebrew-inscribed slabs for sale at a Shanghai antique shop. He investigated, cracking
the mystery of the missing tombstones, and began a recovery mission.
Thus far, the baritone-voiced headstone hunter has made most of his finds in the countryside west of the Shanghai
Racquet Club. Many villagers simply gave Bar-Gal what they had used as washboards, sewer covers, tabletops and
steps.
One wealthy farmer hid a doorstep-tombstone in a sheep pen. Bar-Gal said he plied the farmer, Shen Ji Long, with
chatter and beer for a year before he agreed to sell the stone for 100 yuan ($12). The dirt-encrusted, Torah-shaped slab,
inscribed in Russian and Hebrew, was for "the virgin" Lea Dukowazkaya.
Bridge Building
Shen, 63, said he'd uprooted a few tombstones in his day.
"Mao Zedong said 'Take them,' so we took them," he said. Shen directed Bar-Gal to an algae-covered pond where a
bulldozer subsequently excavated a couple more stones, including Bible student Kapel's. The marker for Esther Robins
was on the underside of a bridge, which had to be dismantled and reconstructed, wood replacing the gravestone.
Bar-Gal also has found headstones of gentiles, foreigners and Chinese, and said he has "no good answer" for leaving
them. "They're heavy and big. Who'll take any interest in them?"
Even Bar-Gal's efforts to garner interest from the descendents of the Shanghai Jews has had limited results. Just a few of
the 20 families Bar-Gal located have replied, he said, including two that came to Shanghai to see the gravestones.
"It's an enigma," he said. "Maybe because it was closed so many years, maybe because the experience of the refugees
was so miserable here, they have no real desire to come back."
Harder to Find
After five years of searching, Bar-Gal said finding headstones has become increasingly difficult.
"I'm very pessimistic" about uncovering many more, he said. "Every time Hebrew or Jewish marks appear from the mud,
it gives me a lot of energy to keep looking."
The thousands of dollars in costs Bar-Gal has spent recovering the gravestones has been partly covered by donations
from Stanford University's Sino-Judaic Institute, the Israel Consulate, some Israel-based companies and visitors who take
his guided tours of the former Jewish neighborhood in northeastern Shanghai's Hongkou district, he said.
An Israeli businessman has been storing the tombstones in his Shanghai factory for free. Bar-Gal is applying for grants to
finish a documentary and lobbying for a commemorative site in the old Jewish quarter to display the gravestones.
It is like David versus Goliath. China doesn't officially recognize Judaism as a religion. Historical preservation is a low
priority as Shanghai considers itself China's showcase of modernity. Local authorities have spent years deliberating over
the restoration of Hongkou and negotiating with potential developers, including overseas Jews, with little progress.
Bar-Gal said the commemorative site would remember all of the Jewish community that once lived in the city. "I'm hoping
that building the site itself will be a memorial to the rest I didn't find," he said.
It would also be a marker of his own -- one that would show his descendants: "This is something I did in this world."
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