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What it’s like to come out as transgender when you’re married to the rabbi – The Jewish News of Northern California

Posted By on July 6, 2020

Samantha Zerin headed home from a Yiddish class she had taught as part of her synagogues adult education program on the evening of Dec. 19 and knew her life was about to change. That evening, the 775 families at Temple Emanu-El of Providence, Rhode Island, would be getting a message that she knew would surprise some of the people she had gotten to know since joining the community 3 1/2 years earlier.

Over the past several years, Sam has been exploring Sams gender identity, read a message sent to the congregation from Samantha and her wife, Rachel. This has been a journey for both of us, full of introspection, learning, and growth. Through this journey, we have come to realize that, although Sam was raised as a boy, she is in fact a woman, and she is ready to begin living her life publicly as such.

The email marked the culmination of a years-long process in Zerins life a rebirth, almost, from the gender identity in which she had been raised to the full expression of the one she had come to understand had always been inside her.

It also marked a significant moment for American synagogues: Rachel Zerin is the associate rabbi at Temple Emanu-El, a Conservative synagogue. Samantha Zerin had looked into whether there were any other spouses of congregational rabbis who transitioned whom she could contact for support. She wasnt able to find any.

The 33-year-old Yiddish and music teacher and poet had already shaved her beard, grown out her hair and come out as transgender to her wife, family and close friends. Now she would announce herself as a rebbetzin, or rabbis wife.

The rabbis spouse is a very public figure, and everywhere I go in our community, people know who I am, Zerin said. Its kind of tongue in cheek to say there are eyes everywhere, but there really are, whether I go to the gym or Im at the grocery store.

Rabbis spouses occupy high-profile roles in Jewish community. Traditionally the rebbetzin would not only cook for Shabbat and holiday dinners but teach classes and offer advice to the women of the congregation. That has changed in the non-Orthodox world, where people of all genders can now become rabbis, but the role of a rabbis spouse remains a prominent role, said Shuly Rubin Schwartz, a historian and the incoming chancellorof the Jewish Theological Seminary.

Its certainly true that rabbis are public figures, and theres this also kind of sociological term of rabbis being symbolic exemplars theyre supposed to live out the values that everyone else is in theory aspiring to live towards and often the rabbis family could get caught up to that set of expectations, said Schwartz, who has done research on the role of the rebbetzin.

Because of all of this, Zerin knew that her coming-out process needed to happen carefully. On the one hand, she knew that acceptance of transgender people outside the Orthodox world has become widespread.

The Reform,ReconstructionistandConservativemovements all adopted resolutions supporting the full inclusion of transgender people in Jewish communities in the past five years, and transgender people like other members of the LGBTQ community are gaining greater visibility and increasingly taking on leadership roles in synagogues and other community institutions.

On the other hand, Zerin knew her transition ceased to be a private matter because of her familys role in the community.

When I came out as transgender, as a woman, then all of a sudden that meant that one of rabbis of this community, who is a woman, is now married to a woman and thats a big deal, she said. So in a sense, when I came out as trans, I was coming out as myself, as a woman, and forcing my wife along with me. And for that reason, it had to be a dialogue with my wife about when we would do this, and also with the leadership of the synagogue.

The message to the congregation shared Zerins new name and pronouns and said congregants may also notice changes to Sams clothing and appearance. But in order to maintain privacy, the couple also asked congregants not to ask them personal questions or offer unsolicited advice.

For my whole life, everything I said, everything I wrote, everything I did in my life was always under the fear that I would be perceived as too feminine.

As a rabbinic family, the line between public and private is frequently blurred, but it was important to maintain some privacy, Rachel Zerin said.

The lines of what is my public life are very different than for most professionals, in the sense that many aspects of my family are public life, she said. Pre-pandemic times, we had people over for Shabbat dinner, and showing what we do in our home to community members is part of my role as a rabbi and I embrace that, but there are still boundaries.

Samantha Zerins coming-out was many years in the making. Raised as a boy, she never felt drawn to typically masculine things. With time, she also started feeling uncomfortable with her gender in general.

For my whole life, everything I said, everything I did, everything I wrote, everything I did in my life was always under the fear that I would be perceived as too feminine, she said.

Zerin never considered that she might be transgender because the image she had in her mind of transgender women was one riddled with stereotypes.

My models for transgender women were these characters in movies who would dress up and dance in secret, and then they would be found out and it would be embarrassing, she recalled. It was this really embarrassing thing and we were meant to laugh at them. The man in the dress is this stock figure in films for getting us to laugh.

She began actively questioning her gender 2 1/2 years ago and last year saw a therapist specializing in gender identity for the first time. The first session was transformative.

She gave me permission to admit to myself what I had been so afraid to admit, which is that that Im transgender, Zerin said.

She immediately came out to her wife, who she said was supportive. But it took seven months, and ongoing conversation with the synagogues leadership, before she was ready to send that email.

During that time, Zerin created aTwitter accountand ablogusing a female pseudonym, Shuli Elisheva. She would write about her struggles with her gender including by writing poems in Yiddish, a language that she speaks fluently and is raising her 5-year-old son to speak.

Online, Zerin was able to find a community with other transgender women. She also found that writing in Yiddish resonated on an even deeper level as she felt a similarity between the language and her gender transition.

I didnt grow up speaking Yiddish. I grew up with Yiddish words around the house mixed into our English, but I never knew it was possible just as I never knew it was possible for me to become a woman I never realized it was possible for me to become a Yiddish speaker, she said.

Writing under a pseudonym allowed her to express herself without worrying about how she would be perceived. Coming out to the community meant that layer of comfort was gone.

But in the end, her announcement was well received both by her own community and the larger Jewish community in Providence. A Facebook post generated hundreds of likes and comments responses, all encouraging, from people around the world and close to home

If there is a specific way we can lend support in our community of which we arent already aware, just let me know, one Temple Emanu-El congregant wrote. See you Shabbos.

Zerin said she was received very, very positively.

I was flooded with support. People really respected our request for privacy, she said.

Rachel Zerin found that her worries about how the community would respond did not play out.

There really havent been any issues, she said. I think all of the anxiety was self-created and the lead-up was much worse than the actual coming out, at least for me.

The positive response in Providences wider Jewish community included Congregation Beth Sholom, a local Orthodox synagogue. The 100-household synagogue has around 10 people who have come out as LGBTQ in the last decade, which has helped shift community members views.

Still, for many members, Zerins coming-out was the their first experience grappling with the issue of transgender rights on a personal level, said Rabby Barry Dolinger.

For a lot of people, its been their own process of actually coming to terms with the issue not on a national or political level, but on a human level. And thats for how many people, hearts and minds are changed when its not an issue, its a friend, said Dolinger, who emailed Zerin a few days after she came out to express his support.

At Temple Emanu-El, where Rachel Zerin works, her wifes transition has helped push the synagogue to be more inclusive, said its senior rabbi, Michael Fel.

For years, I think weve tried being a place thats opening and welcoming and accepting of everyone, so I think the community was sort of primed for when she made her announcement a lot of people said OK, he said. We understood thats part of the people who are in our community, so I dont think there were any challenges. But I think it did heighten a desire in our congregation for us to reevaluate bathrooms and reevaluate accessibility issues throughout the building.

Though Temple Emanu-El has one gender-neutral bathroom, the leadership is in the process of adding an additional one in order to accommodate those who may not feel comfortable going to the mens or womens rooms something that in the past was true for Samantha Zerin.

Zerin said it was transformational for her to connect with other transgender women online and see how through hormone therapy they were able to appear feminine. She now hopes that she can inspire others in similar situations including partners of rabbis, the people she was unable to gain counsel from during her own transition and specifically asked for a photo of her before her transition (see above) to be published alongside one of her today to show others that it is possible.

If I had known all of that 20 years earlier, who knows, I may have transitioned 20 years ago, she said. I was never aware it was a possibility, and how can you really long for something that you dont even know is really a possibility?

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What it's like to come out as transgender when you're married to the rabbi - The Jewish News of Northern California

Dr. Ruth really has nothing but praise – The Riverdale Press

Posted By on July 6, 2020

By MICHAEL HINMAN

At 92 years old in the age of the coronavirus pandemic, Dr. Ruth K. Westheimer considers herself an endangered species. But the famed sex therapist has done her part to stay away from other people, and otherwise keep herself safe.

But how does Dr. Ruth stay busy during a pandemic? One has been focusing on a number of projects she had in motion since the beginning of the year. The other is to keep up with whats happening in The Riverdale Press, reaching out from her upstate hideaway to sing the praises of the Hebrew Home at Riverdale for its drive-in visiting project featured by reporter Rose Brennan last week.

I wanted you to get a message to David Pomeranz congratulating him on this ingenious idea, Ruth told The Press about the Hebrew Homes chief operating officer. I was especially moved by that grandmother visiting her granddaughters son, and that she didnt even have pictures, and now she does.

The Hebrew Home put together the program in recent weeks as a way to allow residents there to visit family, but from a safe enough distance to where no one is at risk of infecting the other.

Dr. Ruth has been busy turning part of her childhood story where she escaped Germany before her family was taken to a concentration camp during World War II into a short animated feature for schools. Using some of the same animation that was used in the documentary about her last year, Ask Dr. Ruth, the icon has expanded that effort, using elements of the childrens book she co-wrote with Pierre A. Lehu in 2018, Roller-coaster Grandma: The Amazing Story of Dr. Ruth.

There isnt much of anything slowing Dr. Ruth down right now. But if she ever did need the care of a nursing home, she says shed look nowhere else except the Hebrew Home on Palisade Avenue. And it doesnt hurt that its not far from one of her shuls Conservative Synagogue Adath Israel of Riverdale.

I would definitely apply to Mr. Pomeranzs institution if I ever needed to, Dr. Ruth said, But not yet. Im not ready yet. I might belong to an endangered species, but I continue to be very careful out there.

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Dr. Ruth really has nothing but praise - The Riverdale Press

What its like to come out as transgender when youre married to a rabbi – The Jerusalem Post

Posted By on July 6, 2020

Samantha Zerin headed home from a Yiddish class she had taught as part of her synagogues adult education program on the evening of Dec. 19 and knew her life was about to change. That evening, the 775 families at Temple Emanu-El would be getting a message that she knew would surprise some of the people she had gotten to know since joining the community 3 1/2 years earlier.

Over the past several years, Sam has been exploring Sams gender identity, read a message sent to the congregation from Samantha and her wife, Rachel. This has been a journey for both of us, full of introspection, learning, and growth. Through this journey, we have come to realize that, although Sam was raised as a boy, she is in fact a woman, and she is ready to begin living her life publicly as such.

The email marked the culmination of a years-long process in Zerins life a rebirth, almost, from the gender identity in which she had been raised to the full expression of the one she had come to understand had always been inside her.

It also marked a significant moment for American synagogues: Rachel Zerin is the associate rabbi at Temple Emanu-El, a Conservative congregation in Providence, Rhode Island. Samantha Zerin had looked into whether there were any other spouses of congregational rabbis who transitioned whom she could contact for support. She wasnt able to find any.

The 33-year-old Yiddish and music teacher and poet had already shaved her beard, grew out her hair and come out as trangender to her wife, family and close friends. Now she would announce herself as a rebbetzin.

The rabbis spouse is a very public figure, and everywhere I go in our community, people know who I am, Zerin said. Its kind of tongue in cheek to say there are eyes everywhere, but there really are, whether I go to the gym or Im at the grocery store.

Its certainly true that rabbis are public figures, and theres this also kind of sociological term of rabbis being symbolic exemplars theyre supposed to live out the values that everyone else is in theory aspiring to live towards and often the rabbis family could get caught up to that set of expectations, said Schwartz, who has done research on the role of the rebbetzin.

On the other hand, Zerin knew her transition ceased to be a private matter because of her familys role in the community.

When I came out as transgender, as a woman, then all of a sudden that meant that one of rabbis of this community, who is a woman, is now married to a woman and thats a big deal, she said. So in a sense, when I came out as trans, I was coming out as myself, as a woman, and forcing my wife along with me. And for that reason, it had to be a dialogue with my wife about when we would do this, and also with the leadership of the synagogue.

The message to the congregation shared Zerins new name and pronouns and said congregants may also notice changes to Sams clothing and appearance. But in order to maintain privacy, the couple also asked congregants not to ask them personal questions or offer unsolicited advice.

As a rabbinic family, the line between public and private is frequently blurred, but it was important to maintain some privacy, Rachel Zerin said.

The lines of what is my public life are very different than for most professionals, in the sense that many aspects of my family are public life, she said. Pre-pandemic times, we had people over for Shabbat dinner, and showing what we do in our home to community members is part of my role as a rabbi and I embrace that, but there are still boundaries.

Samantha Zerins coming-out was many years in the making. Raised as a boy, she never felt drawn to typically masculine things. With time, she also started feeling uncomfortable with her gender in general.

For my whole life, everything I said, everything I did, everything I wrote, everything I did in my life was always under the fear that I would be perceived as too feminine, she said.

Zerin never considered that she might be transgender because the image she had in her mind of transgender women was one riddled with stereotypes.

My models for transgender women were these characters in movies who would dress up and dance in secret, and then they would be found out and it would be embarrassing, she recalled. It was this really embarrassing thing and we were meant to laugh at them. The man in the dress is this stock figure in films for getting us to laugh.

She began actively questioning her gender 2 1/2 years ago and last year saw a therapist specializing in gender identity for the first time. The first session was transformative.

She gave me permission to admit to myself what I had been so afraid to admit, which is that that Im transgender, Zerin said.

She immediately came out to her wife, who she said was supportive. But it took seven months, and ongoing conversation with the synagogues leadership, before she was ready to send that email.

Online, Zerin was able to find a community with other transgender women. She also found that writing in Yiddish resonated on an even deeper level as she felt a similarity between the language and her gender transition.

I didnt grow up speaking Yiddish. I grew up with Yiddish words around the house mixed into our English, but I never knew it was possible just as I never knew it was possible for me to become a woman I never realized it was possible for me to become a Yiddish speaker, she said.

Writing under a pseudonym allowed her to express herself without worrying about how she would be perceived. Coming out to the community meant that layer of comfort was gone.

But in the end, her announcement was well received both by her own community and the larger Jewish community in Providence. A Facebook post generated hundreds of likes and comments responses, all encouraging, from people around the world and close to home

If there is a specific way we can lend support in our community of which we arent already aware, just let me know, one Temple Emanu-El congregant wrote. See you Shabbos.

Zerin said she was received very, very positively.

I was flooded with support. People really respected our request for privacy, she said.

Rachel Zerin found that her worries about how the community would respond did not play out.

There really havent been any issues, she said. I think all of the anxiety was self-created and the lead-up was much worse than the actual coming out, at least for me.

The positive response in Providences wider Jewish community included Congregation Beth Sholom, a local Orthodox synagogue. The 100-household synagogue has around 10 people who have come out as LGBTQ in the last decade, which has helped shift community members views.

Still, for many members, Zerins coming-out was the their first experience grappling with the issue of transgender rights on a personal level, said Rabby Barry Dolinger.

For a lot of people, its been their own process of actually coming to terms with the issue not on a national or political level, but on a human level. And thats for how many people, hearts and minds are changed when its not an issue, its a friend, said Dolinger, who emailed Zerin a few days after she came out to express his support.

At Temple Emanu-El, where Rachel Zerin works, her wifes transition has helped push the synagogue to be more inclusive, said its senior rabbi, Michael Fel.

For years, I think weve tried being a place thats opening and welcoming and accepting of everyone, so I think the community was sort of primed for when she made her announcement a lot of people said OK, he said. We understood thats part of the people who are in our community, so I dont think there were any challenges. But I think it did heighten a desire in our congregation for us to reevaluate bathrooms and reevaluate accessibility issues throughout the building.

Though Temple Emanu-El has a one gender-neutral bathroom, the leadership is in the process of adding an additional one in order to accommodate those who may not feel comfortable going to the mens or womens rooms something that in the past was true for Samantha Zerin.

Zerin said it was transformational for her to connect with other transgender women online and see how through hormone therapy they were able to appear feminine. She now hopes that she can inspire others in similar situations including partners of rabbis, the people she was unable to gain counsel from during her own transition and specifically asked for a photo of her before her transition to be published alongside one of her today to show others that it is possible.

If I had known all of that 20 years earlier, who knows, I may have transitioned 20 years ago, she said. I was never aware it was a possibility, and how can you really long for something that you dont even know is really a possibility?

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What its like to come out as transgender when youre married to a rabbi - The Jerusalem Post

Back to Shul – The Tablet

Posted By on July 6, 2020

Prayer services and weddings, with a maximum of 30 guests, will be allowed to resume in England from today, albeit with certain conditions such as maintaining social distancing. A Jewish writer and mother is looking forward to the reopening of synagogues with hope and caution

As a child, synagogue was a central part of my life. I attended every Saturday, almost without fail. My father ran the childrens service and our familys social life was geared around it, from Jewish classes on Sundays to Chanukah parties, barmitzvahs and weddings.

In my teens and twenties, that fell away; lie ins were preferable to services, and I didnt need an institution to maintain friendships. But since the birth of my son a year ago my husband and I have attended almost every Shabbat. Our synagogue, like many places of worship, runs specific services for toddlers; perfect places for our offspring to be stimulated while we enjoy the liturgy, spend time with friends, and meet new ones.

At the last service we attended, on 14 March, we didnt shake hands and we made liberal use of hand sanitiser, whispering about whether wed be back next week. I dont think we seriously considered it might be three months before wed return.

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Back to Shul - The Tablet

A Sephardic perspective on the Portuguese Nationality Law – The Times of Israel

Posted By on July 5, 2020

An Open Letter to the members of the Portuguese National Assembly

I am a Sephardic Jew. Portugal owes me nothing. Yet the Nationality Law as irrational as it is offers a chance of survival for Portuguese-Jewish culture which is on the verge of extinction. It also offers opportunities and advantages to Portugal. Rather than viewing us as wronged victims, perhaps it would be healthier to see us as Portugals first diaspora.

Who is us? The law seems not to understand who the Sephardim are. I am just one voice, and only speak for myself, but here are some thoughts.

A simplified history: Generations of persecution in Castile and Aragon ended with the forced conversion, or expulsion, of the remaining unbaptised Jewish population in 1492. Of those who left, some joined previous waves of refugees in Morocco; others headed into the Mediterranean and eventually settled in the Ottoman Empire (centred on modern Turkey, Greece and southern Balkans); a third group crossed into Portugal where they and the local Portuguese-Jewish community were forcibly converted in 1496.

So, there are three sub-groups of Iberian Sephardim: first, the Megorashim (meaning exiles in Hebrew) of Morocco, some of whom later settled in Gibraltar. This is the origin of the modern Jewish community in Portugal. Second, the Spanish Jews of the Ottoman Empire. This is the community that traditionally spoke Ladino, a dialect of Medieval Spanish with Turkish and Greek loan words. Thirdly, there are the descendants of those Jews who found themselves in Portugal at the end of 1492. This community self-defined as the Nao Portuguesa, or just the Nao. In Israel, where the word Sephardim is mis-used to mean anyone with ancestry outside Germany, central and eastern Europe, the Nao has recently started calling itself Portuguesi.

There are overlaps between the three Sephardic sub-groups. For example, in the 17th Century a group of New Christians in Coimbra were caught sending money to support a community in Corfu, presumably of Portuguese origin. There were definitely members of the Nao living in Morocco and Izmir. The Venetian Empire and later Egypt were Jewish melting pots. Spanish refugees from the Hapsburg-Ottoman wars settled in Amsterdam and were absorbed into the Portuguese tradition. The once Ashkenazi Morpurgo (from Marburg) in Austria joined the Sephardic community in late Medieval times. History is not black and white.

The descendants of some of the converted Jews in Portugal the Nao, officially known as New Christians later moved to Spain. Targeted by Inquisitions in both Portugal and Spain, Jewish identity was erased in some families, whilst others moved to tolerant cities including Amsterdam, Hamburg, London, Bordeaux, and Livorno.

The Nao communities in continental Europe which means most of them were virtually extinguished in the Holocaust. In the Anglosphere, over generations, most descendants were absorbed into the surrounding community. In early 19th Century England, the Jewish community leadership encouraged marriage between Sephardic and German Jews. Both groups were subsumed, and largely absorbed, by the much larger migration of east European Jew in the second half of the 19th Century. The Portuguese-Jews have partly evolved from an ethnic/cultural community to a religious one. It is now defined as much by adherence to the minhag (religious tradition) as by DNA. The community could not function without people who have joined from other traditions. So, who should count as Sephardic? Let us set that point aside until later.

Allowing fanatics to persecute their merchant classes was not a good strategy for Portugal and Spain. The two countries then endured generations of economic decline. Meanwhile, members of the Portuguese-Jewish diaspora thrived, as did the tolerant countries that had given them a home. Yet as a community, we have declined due to assimilation and Holocaust. There has never been a better time for Portugal to reach out.

I think the history of the Nao (also known as Western Sephardim, Portuguese Jews, and Spanish & Portuguese Jews) is a patrimony of humanity. This tiny Portuguese-speaking group perhaps never numbering more than 50,000 souls was the worlds first globalised community. From their early trade networks across the Atlantic and Asia, we see the foundations of the modern world. Members of the community financed the Dutch Republic in its struggles to survive; pioneered modern commerce; laid the foundations of the British Empire in the Caribbean and India; provided critical help to George Washington during the American Revolution; and so on. Partly in response to the experience of Portugal and Spain, there is a moderate approach to religion that accepts science. In people like Spinoza we start to see recognisably modern thinking.

Portugals fame amongst the Nations rests on the Age of Discoveries. The country ranks 22nd on the Soft Power 30 index. Soft power brings influence and income. The Instituto Cames may want to claim cultural ownership of the achievements of the first Portuguese diaspora, an empire of thought rather than territory.

If Portugal is to close the circle of its history, why not derive every possible benefit? Rather than following the Spanish model, where Jewish history ends in 1492, the Portuguese judiaria industry may prefer to focus on the Inquisition period. Hundreds of cities, towns and villages have such a history, which is a history that connects to the present.

Portugal has a rich Jewish history. That history is not one of Ashkenazi stars of David, violins, and straggly beards, or of musicologists dressed like gypsy fortune-tellers and slaughtering Ottoman songs in a Spanish dialect unknown in Portugal. In under-selling us, you under-sell yourselves.

It is to Portugals credit that it takes an interest in, and supports, its international diaspora. Due to historic religious chauvinism, one diaspora is forgotten. Portuguese continued as the language of my congregation in London until around 1840. That is in the lifetime of people known by my grandfather. Some Portuguese continues to be used in religious services to this day.

There is no need for Portugal to ask for forgiveness of the Jews. These events happened a long time ago. Anyway, I cannot forgive someone for crimes not committed against me. However, if they want to address history, it seems to me that they have two choices: they can make an empty statement or they can try to turn a negative into a positive. Whilst the nationality law is poorly framed, it is an unambiguous statement of goodwill, and should be built upon.

Some in the Portuguese media say it was Sephardim who requested the nationality law. I do not think this is accurate, but I may be mistaken. I know there was dialogue between Portuguese authorities and the Jewish communities in Portugal, and I am confident that everyone acted in good faith, but this was a group of Catholics speaking to a group of Ashkenazim and Megorashim. Where was the Nao in this conversation? Historical misunderstandings and errors written into the law may suggest that the drafters did not have a thorough understanding of the subject, which is a complicated one.

So, what about the Nationality Law? I think it is entirely a matter for the Portuguese people, through their elected representatives, to decide who should be offered the privilege of Portuguese citizenship, and who should not. A member of my family was burnt alive in Lisbon in 1731, while family members in Spanish Inquisition documents are referred to being of Portuguese origin. I did not discover this until fifteen years ago. It is not a rational basis to offer me citizenship. Yet I have applied. The law is a kindly gesture, and I can see how everyone can benefit.

Why are people applying for Portuguese and Spanish citizenship under the Sephardic laws? I think there are several reasons. The first is safety. The Jewish community is realising that the historically low levels of antisemitism from 1945 to 2008 was an exception, not the new normal. It makes little difference to me at the receiving end if the given reason for antisemitism is Christ-killing, anti-Zionism, or neo-fascism. A blow to the head is a blow to the head. Having a second passport may at some point be the difference between life and death.

The second is to obtain an EU passport. The motives seem to be two-fold, either to ensure that they or their children can work in the EU, normally meaning a northern European country, or to virtue signal. I do not know if that phrase translates into Portuguese. I am thinking of wealthy Americans and Brits wishing to advertise their moral purity in opposing Trump and Brexit respectively.

I know that some members of the National Assembly are concerned that this represents an abuse of the intention of the law. If you search online for Portuguese Passport, Citizenship or Nationality you will encounter dozens of lawyers offering their services to obtain a passport. It makes me uncomfortable. The opening for an antisemitic backlash is obvious. Also, I think it is disrespectful towards an act of goodwill. I think that most of these applicants have no meaningful connection with the Western Sephardic community (if they did, they would know a lawyer is unnecessary), yet they meet the requirements of the law. If a certain type of lawyer seeks to exploit the situation for their own financial benefit, and is acting within the law, then who is responsible for the exploitation? The lawyers? The applicants? Or, perhaps, those who drafted the law in the first place?

The third reason is that some of us involved with what remains of the Portuguese-Jewish tradition see a re-connection with Portugal as a means of rebuilding a community on the verge of extinction. If something is not done, I expect it to cease to exist or morph into something different in my lifetime. This, of course, is not the goal of the law, but possibly should have been.

May I offer some suggestions?

Two categories might be defined:

I suspect these ideas are very different from those currently being considered. They are based on knowledge of the community, experience as a genealogist and as an applicant for Portuguese citizenship. The National Assembly is sovereign and must do what they believe is in the best interests of the Portuguese people, but hopefully in full knowledge of the situation.

Whilst eccentric, the law has already nudged what remains of the Nao into a more Luso-centric orbit. Perhaps for the first time in a hundred years, Portuguese greetings can be heard again in our synagogues. My synagogue even had some Portuguese language classes and there is a new energy amongst those of us wanting to carry the tradition forward.

Spain completely messed up their nationality law. Offering something to people, then taking it away just as they become interested is not a strategy to win friends.

Should Portugal decide to place a deadline on the current law, may I suggest that they do so by asking the overseas synagogues to cease providing letters confirming Sephardic ancestry on a certain date, and then setting a final end date for submission of applications to the Portuguese authorities eighteen months or two years after that. The advantage of this, rather than imposing a cut-off date in Lisbon, is that there will be no mad rush or bottlenecks as happened in Spain. People who have already in good faith spent three or six months researching their family history before asking an overseas synagogue for a letter, will not suddenly be left high and dry. We are discussing relatively small numbers of people, almost all of whom have no prior experience of this type of paperwork. It is more a matter of optics than demographics.

I hope the Law appropriately clarified or amended is not an end but a start of something new and positive. The Nao were always a tiny group of people. In the 17th and early 18th Centuries they were the fuel in Portugals engine. The world has changed enormously since then. Portugal recognising her orphan diaspora is both an act of kindness and self-interest. It is a relationship that can be made to benefit both sides of the family.

The Portuguese nationality law will be discussed in the online Sephardic World meeting at 7pm Lisbon/London time on Sunday 5 July 2020. If any member of the Portuguese National Assembly wishes to participate in the discussion, please contact me directly. Else, watch online or join the mailing list on the Sephardic Genealogy page on Facebook.

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A Sephardic perspective on the Portuguese Nationality Law - The Times of Israel

The attack on Althea Bernstein is an attack on all people – Religion News Service

Posted By on July 5, 2020

(RNS) Let us say their names out loud.

Who?

Althea Bernstein is a biracial Jewish woman in Madison, Wisconsin. Her car was stopped at a traffic light early on Wednesday (June 24), when a car pulled up next to hers. Someone yelled a racial epithet. A man sprayed lighter fluid on her and threw a lighter on her. She was treated at a hospital for burns on her face.

Unlike the others whom I have mentioned, she is alive. She is very lucky.

Various American Jewish groups, like the American Jewish Committee, the ADL and the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism, condemned the attack. No less an A-lister than the ex-royal biracial Meghan Markle reached out to Althea.

How might we Jews think about this terrible incident?

Its about intersectionality. A good basic definition of that oft-used term: understanding how peoples different identities combine and intersect to create either oppression or privilege.

In that sense, Althea is a double victim Black and Jewish and perhaps triple, with woman as part of it.

Did her attackers know that she is Jewish? Probably not. The attack on her, therefore, would seem to be purely (!) racial and not motivated by anti-Semitism.

But, when you are Black and Jewish, and white people attack you, why wouldnt you perceive that as a double-pronged attack? And why wouldnt the attackers themselves regard it as a twofer?

Some years ago, I was teaching Bible at a small college in Georgia. Most of my students were Black. At one point, we got around to talking about anti-Semitism.

I reminded them: Everyone who hates you, hates me as well. One hundred percent of the time. They got it.

Its about inclusion. The attack on Althea Bernstein reminds us of the significant number of Black Jews/interracial Jews in America 10% of the American Jewish population, according to one study.

And, while some might quibble with that estimate, they do not quibble with the need for American Jewish institutions to reach out and include Jews of color in our community.

I know this from my own religious school. Several of our kids are of mixed race Black/white; white/Hispanic. Throw in several of our kids who are not your usual Fiddler On The Roof Jews kids of Iraqi and Yemenite Jewish heritage.

For years, I have been trying to wean my own Jewish learning and teaching away from its Ashkenormativity trying to include atypical Jewish voices from Sephardic, Middle Eastern and Jews-of-color communities.

No doubt about it. The American Jewish community is Josephs coat. Lets start treating it that way.

Its about peoplehood. You know that Josephs coat?

Althea Bernstein is at least several stripes of it.

Althea is:

I am going to (at least, temporarily) silence all of those questions about the vagaries of Jewish identity. What does it mean to be culturally Jewish? Can a Jew also be a Unitarian?

This would be precisely the wrong time, and precisely the wrong occasion, in American Jewish history to raise those questions, as worthy as they might be.

They dont matter. Althea Bernstein is one of us.

Why am I writing about Althea?

First of all, because Carly Pildis (on Twitter @carlypildis) of the Jewish Council for Public Affairs, a Black-Jewish activist, asked me to do so.

Well, not me, personally.

Jews. Jewish leaders. Jewish writers.

Yes, several Jewish organizations condemned this horrific assault.

Yes, such diverse media outlets as Essence, Cosmopolitan, Elle and Town & Country covered the attack.

All good, all appreciated.

But, as I said, Althea Bernstein is ours. And this Jewish writer/leader will not be silent.

This Shabbat, I am going to pray for her healing.

I invite you all to do the same.

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The attack on Althea Bernstein is an attack on all people - Religion News Service

Could this Mediterranean takeout brand named for an Arabic Israeli TV show be the restaurant of the future? – Jewish Telegraphic Agency

Posted By on July 5, 2020

(JTA) As a child in Israel, Amir Nathan dined at Sami VeSusu, an innovative restaurant in Beersheba named after a popular childrens television show from the 1960s and 70s.

So when it came time for Nathan, now a restaurateur in New York City, to name his latest venture, he replicated the name and an atypical approach to serving food.

Sami and Susu opened two weeks ago as a takeout and delivery service operating out of a Brooklyn bar. Nathan and his executive chef and business partner, Jordan Anderson, sling Jewish-influenced Mediterranean food in a model designed to keep locals well-fed even as the coronavirus pandemic seems likely to make traditional restaurant dining impossible for some time.

The menu in some ways is an homage to the restaurants television namesake. The show, which has been called an Arabic cross between Mr. Rogers and Sesame Street, involved both Arab and Israeli actors and was broadcast in Arabic with Hebrew subtitles. It was popular among both Arabs and Jews, and Nathan an outspoken critic of the current Israeli government says it is a time capsule from an era when Israelis and Palestinians were much more hopeful about peace than they are now.

The Ottoman Empire cuisine that we worked with, it spread through the entire Middle East. Some of our recipes are also from Lebanon, from Palestine so the food itself symbolizes unity. I wanted to have a name that kind of symbolizes the idea, Nathan told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. (Hes not the first in the U.S. to have the idea: A kosher restaurant by the same name in Miami closed late last year.)

Customers sitting at the bar that Nathan and Anderson are operating out of need to order Sami and Susu food from their phones. (Briana Balduci)

Sami and Susu is a far cry from the Israeli restaurant Nathan opened in New York five years ago, well into the decade-long Israeli food boom resonating across the U.S. Timna was popular and well reviewed, if a bit over the top. ANew York Times article described some of its elaborate dishes: cured tuna is laid over black-quinoa tabbouleh, and quenelles of steak tartare, separated by tiny wobbles of eggplant pure.

It closed four years later, in early 2019. Nathan explained that even in years before the coronavirus pandemic, many New York restaurants that seemed to be performing well on the outside were actually straining under a precarious labor-cost-to-revenue-ratio and rising urban rents. Now COVID-19 has derailed all of them, shrinking their dining rooms to sidewalks for now, and forcing them to adapt their menus for the world of takeout and delivery.

As the renowned chef Gabrielle Hamilton put it in aNew York Times Magazine essay about her New York restaurant Prune: Does the world need it anymore? Her thesis: The upscale restaurant as we know it, especially in New York City (Israeli and other Jewish ones included) could be a thing of the past.

With that in mind, Nathan developed a model that could be the restaurant of the future: There are no traditional restaurant accoutrements, like menus or indoor tables or silverware. Even patrons who sit at outdoor tables with drinks from the bar have to order Sami and Susu food on their phones to have it delivered from inside. There is also plenty of longer distance ordering happening though, through services like Seamless, GrubHub and Caviar.

The food is influenced by what Ladino-speaking Jewish communities in Spain, Turkey, Greece, Italy and North Africa ate after the Spanish Inquisition, during the time of the Ottoman Empire. Half of Nathans family are Turkish Jews, and he developed the Sami and Susu culinary framework from books on Sephardic culinary history.

But Anderson brought along some of his American Askenazi Jewish mothers recipes and blended them into the idea. The result is a menu that includes bourekas, pita sandwiches, stuffed peppers, tabbouleh with corn, baba ganoush and harissa-spiced carrots but also cauliflower rubbed with pastrami seasoning, as well as a matzah ball soup that the pair refer to as a kind of Jewish ramen because of its rich broth and inclusion of yakisoba noodles.

Sami and Susus menu is inspired by Ottoman Empire-era Sephardic cooking. (Briana Balduci)

Andersons mom used to put Polish kluski noodles, akin to egg noodles, in her soup. He said he took his moms recipe and tried to intensify the flavors.

I told Amir that the other night, instead of having a beer, I drank a pint of the soup. It was awesome, Anderson said. At 10 oclock it was so comforting. Then I just went to bed.

Eventually Nathan, 34, and Anderson, 28, want to have their own brick-and-mortar space, which they envision as a store, takeout counter and casual cafe spot where a few customers can sit and eat or drink a glass of wine. But the current reality has refined their takeout business model and influenced the menu every decision they make about what to include is based on whether it can survive at least 45 minutes of transit time.

Amir and I always say, Is it gonna be hot when it gets there? Is the bread gonna be too mushy? Anderson said. If I serve this pita in a menu, I would add more of the sauce to it, whereas I now say OK, this is gonna be 45 minutes and this bread is gonna take a lot of the sauce in, so lets kick it down a little.

They also have pivoted away from the more specific highbrow concept that Nathan had originally imagined (he calls it geeky) to thinking about what people want to eat right now. That includes Jewish and Middle Eastern comfort food, and preferably comfort food that can be taken to a socially distanced picnic, last in a fridge for days and taste good after being reheated in a microwave.

Sami and Susu also sells natural wine and ice cream from the Brooklyn-based OddFellows brand. (Briana Balduci)

You cook food for your whole career that you dont cook at home for yourself, Anderson said. You cook this really beautiful food for strangers in a restaurant who are paying an exorbitant amount of money for it, and you know there definitely is some incentive to do it, you love it, and youre kind of told to want to do that.

But at the same time, you go home at midnight and thats not what you want to eat, thats not what you want to cook, Anderson said. No ones gonna go home and say I wanna whip up some Bernardin food right now.

Anderson, who is from Monmouth Beach, New Jersey, wasnt sure he would stay a chef after the pandemic hit and nearly obliterated the service industry. He also never imagined himself cooking this type of food.

I didnt think I would be cooking stuffed peppers or matzah ball soup, but in a weird way it kind of feels right, he said. After cooking French and Italian food, all these types of food, its kind of a breath of fresh air to cook some home company food. It kind of feels like Im cooking at home.

Originally posted here:

Could this Mediterranean takeout brand named for an Arabic Israeli TV show be the restaurant of the future? - Jewish Telegraphic Agency

Annexation, Apartheid, and Me – The Atlantic

Posted By on July 5, 2020

Yair Lapid: Israels choice, between shame and pride

Israel today feels like a pressure cooker with no release valve on top. There are so many points of tension: the secular and the religious; Israelis and Palestinians; settlers and those who oppose the occupation; Sephardic Jews from the Arab world and Ashkenazi Jews from Europe; and Israeli Arabs and Zioniststhe list is endless.

Yet in over 50 years of mayhem I have never seriously questioned my decision to live here. Israel gave me an identity I did not have growing up as a Jew in apartheid South Africa. There I was tolerated because I was white and hated because Afrikaners were taught in Sunday school to believe that the Jews killed Christ. Nevertheless, it was apartheid, not anti-Semitism, that drove me to leave South Africa as soon as I could. I could not abide living in a country with endemic discrimination against a large majority of the population based on race.

I hated the darkness, censorship, fear, tyranny, and brutality, and the unbelievable cruelty that came with it. The forced movement of millions of people from their lush and mineral-rich tribal lands to arid Bantustans, where social and family structures collapsed as men left to work the mines and mothers abandoned children to become domestic servants, was diabolic in concept and implementation.

As much as I hated apartheid, fighting it was not my cause. For me, South Africa was an accident of birth, not my country. From an early age I saw Israel as my home, the light at the end of the tunnel. It promised identity, freedom of speech, international acceptabilitynot a pariah state, but a thriving democracyand the challenge of building a new society with healthy values: a light unto the nations.

That light will be dimmed for me if the annexation goes through, and I find myself back in a country that practices discrimination and inequality as policy.

I have no citizenship other than Israeli.

I burned my South African passport on the campus of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem in 1966 after listening to Arthur Goldreich speak at an open-air rally in support of equality for Israeli Arabs.

Shadi Hamid: The Israeli-Palestinian dispute is only partly about land

He was one of 13 people arrested with Nelson Mandelaseven of them Jewishby the South African security forces in 1963, and he was subsequently convicted of sabotage and sentenced to life. With the burning of my passport, I thought I had left apartheid behind.

I have long argued that Israel, despite the occupation, which has now lasted more than 50 years, was not an apartheid state.

If annexation goes ahead, with Israeli sovereignty and law extended only to the Israeli residents of the areas involved, but not to the Palestinians, I am not sure I will be able to make that case in the future. It may not be apartheid, which was a seminal and unique event. But it would be separation under one sovereignty by ethnicityand that is a red line I cannot cross.

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Annexation, Apartheid, and Me - The Atlantic

Four Jewish facts for the 4th of July – Forward

Posted By on July 5, 2020

This Saturday, American Jews will light candles for havdalah and of fireworks for the Fourth of July.

Most American Jews trace their roots to immigration booms in the late 19th or early 20th century. But when the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4, 1776, there was already a significant Jewish presence in the nascent United States. Many were merchants or traders and, its important to acknowledge, some owned or profited from trading enslaved people. Jews went on to fight on both sides of the Revolutionary War.

However youre marking the holiday this year, here are some Jewish intersections with Independence Day to keep in mind.

Francis Salvador (1747- August 1, 1776)

The first Jew to die in the Revolutionary War was born into a prominent Ladino-speaking Sephardic family living in London. As an adult, Salvador left his wife and children behind to immigrate to Charleston, South Carolina in 1773, hoping to make his fortune as a planter in the American colonies. In order to do so, he bought 30 enslaved people upon arriving in the colonies; it was their labor that allowed him to become one of the regions prominent figures and, eventually, to get involved with the American cause.

Despite restrictions preventing Jews from holding office or voting, Salvador became the first Jew elected to the South Carolina General Assembly. He was killed by the British on August 1, 1776, during a skirmish on the South Carolina frontier border.

George Washingtons letter

In 1790, newly elected President George Washington wrote a 340-word letter to the congregants of Touro Synagogue in Newport, Rhode Island now considered the oldest standing synagogue in the United States. In this missive, Washington promised Jews equal rights and freedom from oppression for their religious beliefs:

May the children of the stock of Abraham who dwell in this land continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other inhabitantswhile every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree and there shall be none to make him afraid.

Ironically, the synagogues namesake and first leader, Isaac Touro, was an avowed Loyalist. During the Revolutionary War, he fled the colonies to British-ruled Jamaica, where he lived out the rest of his life.

Captain America

Americas red,white and blue hero may not be Jewish nor is Chris Evans, who plays the buff movie version but Jack Kirby and Joe Simon, who created the comic, most definitely were.Brought to life in the 1940s, the first edition of the classic shows its protagonist punching Hitler in the jaw. Throughout the war, Captain America fought alongside the Allies, battling the Axis with his signature stars n stripes shield.

Operation Entebbe

On July 4, 1976, while the U.S. was celebrating its bicentennial with great pomp and circumstance, 100 Israeli commandos were landing at Entebbe Airport in Uganda. Their objective? To rescue passengers of Air France Flight 139, hijacked by two members of the Palestinian Liberation Front and two German members of the Revolutionary Cells.In an operation that lasted just 90 minutes, the commandos rescued 102 hostages, killing both hijackers, 45 Ugandan soldiers and three hostages in the process. Five of the commandos were wounded and Lt. Col. Yonah Netanyahu, brother of current Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, lost his life.

Irene Connelly contributed reporting.

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Four Jewish facts for the 4th of July - Forward

Uman mayor speaks against this year’s Hasidic pilgrimage over COVID-19 concerns – UNIAN

Posted By on July 5, 2020

Pilgrims could spark a coronavirus outbreak in town, mayor says.

mvs.gov.ua

The mayor of Uman, a Ukrainian town where Hasidic Jews flock every year to visit the tomb of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, has spoken against this year's pilgrimage set to be held in September amid the uncertainty over the coronavirus spread developments.

"Every year about 30,000 pilgrims come to Uman to celebrate Rosh Hashanah. But this year, the coronavirus pandemic made adjustments to our life... It's a very difficult situation in the world and in Ukraine. In Uman, the situation is under control... But the arrival of a large number of foreigners from different countries could cause a coronavirus outbreak in our town," Mayor Oleksandr Tserbiy said in a video address he uploaded on Facebook.

He went on to express doubt that all pilgrims who would like to visit the town this year would have appropriate medical certificates with negative COVID-19 test results. Neither is the mayor sure visitors would actually undergo the required 14-day observation upon arrival and comply with all requirements of the adaptive quarantine Ukraine has introduced.

Read alsoUkraine's Health Minister comments on possibility of nationwide strict quarantine

"The government foresees the second wave of coronavirus in September. In the current situation, I stand against the arrival of pilgrims this year," the mayor emphasized.

However, he noted, Uman residents' opinion must be heard, so he suggested that people leave comments under his post and have their say on the matter.

Earlier in April, Israeli Ambassador to Ukraine Jol Lion has called on the Hasidim not to go on a pilgrimage to Uman amid the coronavirus pandemic.

Thousands of members of Hasidim come to Uman every year to visit the tomb of their spiritual leader, Rebbe Nachman of Breslov.

Rosh Hashanah in 2020 will begin on September 18 and will end September 20.

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Original post:

Uman mayor speaks against this year's Hasidic pilgrimage over COVID-19 concerns - UNIAN


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