Rabbi Capers C. Funnye, Jr. The news this week has been saturated with issues of race, otherness, and problems of identity in a society that's most comfortable drawing boundaries and lines. On Sunday, the New York Times ran a story on Rabbi Capers C. Funnye, Jr., the first African-American member of the Chicago Board of Rabbis. On Tuesday, Senator Barack Obama gave a landmark speech on race relations that took the country by storm. We asked documentary filmmaker Lacey Schwartz to weigh in on these two stories by sharing her own parallel experiences as a Black, Jewish woman who is working to incorporate and make sense of her dual identities. Here's what she had to say:

Like any typical upper-middle class Jewish girl growing up in the Eighties, my life revolved around the Bar Mitzvah party circuit, Gap clothing stores, second base, and Madonna. Something was off, though: From a young age, I encountered people who pointed out that I looked different from my white parents because of my darker skin, tightly curled hair and thicker features. From a little boy in nursery school who made me show him my gums because he claimed they determined my race, to my classmates in high school who would verbally accost me in the halls with “What are you?”—an inquiry that they demanded more than asked—questions about my identity were abundant. “Jewish?” I would tentatively respond, afraid of how they might react to my denial of what they saw as my obvious blackness.

My family never seemed to notice or acknowledge the fact that I looked different from them. One overt example of this came at the age of sixteen, when my grandfather strongly encouraged me to break up with my bi-racial boyfriend. Without irony or malice, Grandpa expressed his fear of how people might treat me for being in an interracial relationship. Because of experiences like these, I deeply related when Barack Obama described in a speech earlier this week how he would cringe when his white grandmother uttered racial stereotypes, and yet he could not disown her.

Lacey Schwartz: black, white, jewish? yes, yes, and yes. When I applied to college I left the race/ethnicity box blank and attached a photograph instead. Based on that, I was admitted as a student who was of “Black/Not of Hispanic Origin.” It wasn't until the end of my freshman year that I learned the truth: My biological father was an African-American man who my mother had had an affair with while married to my father. It was quite a shock, but I cherish my university experience as the time and place where my identification with being African-American and my connection to the Black community first began.

Years later, in an attempt to merge my Black identity with my Jewish upbringing, I attended Yom Kippur services at a Black synagogue in Brooklyn. I was skeptical at first: “A group of Black Jews worshipping together?” I thought. On entering the small brownstone converted into a synagogue, I was amazed to find that the entire congregation was Black! I was even more surprised to find the songs, prayers, and Shofar blasts were identical to what I learned growing up. I couldn't help but wonder how someone with two Black parents could possibly be Jewish, but after years of being questioned by strangers about my own identity, I hid my ignorance and didn't ask the questions I so desperately wanted answered.

As featured in last weekend’s NY Times, Rabbi Capers Funnye Jr. embodies both the heart and soul of this community of people. He was one of the first Black rabbis who I came upon in researching other Black Jews, and he has been one of the most inspiring people I have met along the journey. His work, along with others like him, is making the Jewish community more accepting of all Jews and changing the way we all expect Jewish people to look.

For much of my adult life, I have maintained separate cultural identities. Only in the last couple of years, as part of a personal documentary, have I set out to learn what it means to be both Black and Jewish. In recognizing the uniqueness of my situation, I have come to discover that Black Jews are members of a small, but significant minority within a minority: A group of people whose roots are as diverse and dynamic as any other ethnic group or subculture, and who represent the immense complexity of America itself.

This article first appeared on March 21, 2008 and has been republished as part of the series JEWCYEST WEEK EVER.

During the month of February, six very different media outlets, with six different readerships (plus a major Jewish organization for good measure...and so no one gets hurt) have partnered to create aplatform and a mini-blog appropriately titled 28 Days, 28 Ideas to share some of the best ideas that we have heard from ourown segments of the Jewish bubble.

The rat pack includes:  JTA & The Fundermentalist, the Forward and its Sisterhood Blog, eJewish Philanthropy, Jewcy, Jewschool, the Jewish Federations of North America and 31 Days, 31 Ideas,a project of Daniel Sieradski.

Each of the partners in the collaboration have lined up entries fora specific day of the week (Jewcy has Tuesdays - woohoo!).  As a group, we will give you one idea per day for the 28 days of February.

The goal is to produce some great new ideas for helping out theJews, and introducing each other to our respective readerships becausesomething tells us that your average Jewish Federation follower mightnot be a regular Jewcy reader, and vice versa.  Moreover, if we get these ideas out, maybe someone will run with them (we're too busy - yo!).

To kick this party off right, we have Patrick Aleph (aka Patrick A) from Atlanta, GA.  Patrick is the lead singer for the punk rock band CAN!!CAN and founder of PunkTorah.com.  Through his work, music, and freelance writing, Patrick uses technology and pop culture to bring Jewish spirituality to people who are disconnected from traditional Jewish life.  Rock.

I attend Jewish outreach events at least once a week, and frankly the majority of them are pointless. If we don't fix that, the future of Judaism is at stake.

There are two forms of Jewish outreach: social and religious. For a long time, Jewish outreach was based around the idea of getting Jews in a room together so they could feel a sense of social-cultural connection. It's the "lonely Jew" syndrome. Tired of being the only person on your block without a Christmas tree? Go to a Hillel event! Wish you could find a job that would respect High Holidays? Go to a Young Jewish Professionals networking party.

But in today's society, that model is not relevant. Jews do not suffer the open anti-semitism of the past. In fact, recent studies show that Jews are loved now, more than ever, and that the majority of Americans either view Judaism in a positive or "very positive" way.

Then there's religious outreach. Synagogues and organizations like Chabad are interested in making Jews live according to their movement's sense of Jewish spirituality. And for the most part, it doesn't work. Synagogues focus on ritual, law and life cycle leaves a lot of people "out to dry". Also, as interfaith marriages and the overall movement away from theism grows stronger, the Jewish community seeks out spiritual alternatives.

Both of these approaches don't work because their motives and techniques are outdated. Luckily, there is a solution to the problem: the internet and social networking.

By moving Jewish organizations entirely virtual, we are able to reach a wider audience. Marginalized people such as Jews from interfaith households, Jews of color, LGBT Jews, converts and people who in other ways feel outside the Jewish "mold" will be brought into the conversation in ways they have not in the past.

Making these organizations collaborative in the way that Facebook groups and Wikipedia operates means that people who normally would never volunteer for Birthright Israel Next or some other group will begin to connect with one another.  Jewcy.com has created the perfect model for this, with Jewish media as the medium for collaboration and peer connection on a global level. On a social level, people will begin to form virtual friendships that may lead to real relationships over time.

On a practical level, it is much cheaper to run an organization online than brick and mortar. Sure, a potluck Shabbat is fun. But the cost and time to put something like this together doesn't appeal to the average Jew anymore. Instead, streaming an alternative Shabbat online and including a Second Life session or a game of Wii Tennis afterwards would honestly reach more people. It's hard to sell kugel and cantors in a Hot Pocket and Game Cube world.

The trend is already there. In full disclosure, I run a Jewish spirituality website called PunkTorah.com, focused on alternative Jewish spirituality. An online D'var Torah that's three minutes long averages 120 hits during that Parshah's week. When was the last time you saw 120 people at your synagogue? 

OurJewishCommunity.org is actively working on creating a web-based, humanist Jewish shul to address the spiritual needs of the evolving Jewish community. G-dcast.com presents the Parshat every week, through the medium of narrated cartoons. Facebook, Myspace and YouTube have seen a flood of Jewish organizations and content, as the next generation uses technology to create the Judaism of the future.

If we don't face the fact that falafel parties at Temple-Blah-Blah-Blah no longer matter to the average Jew, than we will lose Judaism forever. The future is here, so get used to it and change with the times.

Check out yesterday's idea "Jewish Media Mashups," get ready for tomorrow's mind blower at eJewish Philanthropy, and don't forget to visit 28days28ideas.com for the full list of ideas as they progress.

I got a lot of flack from family and friends about visiting Germany, but no one had any compelling reasons for me to reconsider-- other than 'this feeling' that it was somehow wrong for a Jew to set foot in the former Nazi-land. Their feelings, along with my own, weren't enough to quell my curiosity and in retrospect, I insist that my anti-pilgrimage was both worthwhile and a necessity.

I'd never visited a concentration camp and the Sachsenhausen Camp, located just outside of Berlin, was one of our first stops. It was cold and rainy and I walked around the camp, saw the bunks, the ovens, and the open fields in which my people were systematically shot and murdered at the discretion of some of the most evil men in the history of the world. It looked just like it did in the books and in the movies and I'd stuffed my pocket full of tissues in anticipation of the emotional breakdown of the century-- but it never came. Some people cried and others looked as numb as I did. I wasn't sure what to make of my reaction or the reactions of others and I just kept asking myself, "why am I here?" Surely, the purpose of visiting a concentration camp was to tug at your heartstrings and make you feel one-millionth of the pain that your grandparents would feel if they set foot inside the camp. No such luck.

On the bus ride home, I felt a slight escalation in emotion, mostly anger. I thought about the helplessness and desperation, focusing mostly on the perpetrators. Still, I realized that I was privileged to be a part of a generation with a source of comfort. This could never happen again because there is a powerful army that exists to protect Jews and I was able to witness the way in which guilt has truly influenced German society. There is a serious stigma within German society when there is mere mention of beginning a new political party and the German disdain for everything pertaining to the military is (almost) understandable. I struggled with all of this-- I struggled to remember with feeling and intention, all while knowing that this was a part of our past and that I could be certain that it would stay there, in the past, as another piece of our story that I could mourn for but not completely relate to. The same question came to mind, "why am I here?"

While at the Jewish Museum in Berlin-- one of the most fantastic tributes to Jewish history that I have ever witnessed in the diaspora-- I came the closest that I'll probably ever come to finding an answer. We saw the well-known installation Shalechet by Israeli artist Menashe Kadishman. It was featured as a part of an exhibit entitled Void, most of which conveyed messages related to the Holocaust. Shalechet was a tiny sliver of a room and there was a bit of light, but if you ventured far enough, you disappeared into the darkness. If you chose to walk the length of the room, you had to walk over thousands of hunks of metal that were shaped to look like faces (see photo below). The only sound in the room was the wretched, horrible sound of feet crunching on metal. When no one was there, the exhibit didn't move and it didn't make any noise. That was, as we interpreted it, the point. By walking on that very ground, we were giving the murdered and the forever lost the opportunity to scream again, and to be heard.

Shalechet, by Menashe Kadishman, Jewish Museum in Berlin.Two generations later, I was already somewhat numb to the pain of the Holocaust-- had I not visited Germany, acquired a visual, and dedicated two weeks to focusing on the screams of the Shoah, how would I remember? The reservations that I had about traveling to Germany, the ideological and emotional struggle of being shlepped around such a historically loaded place-- that was my first and only opportunity to truly grapple with the reality of the Holocaust.

The feeling that it's somehow wrong to visit Germany is irrational and purely emotional. The Nazis are dead or dying and their children, as a whole, haven't committed any crimes against humanity. You can buy a cappuccino from a middle-aged man and not have to worry that he voted for Hitler-- or worse. It's true that anti-Semitism has a real presence, but it has a presence in France, England, and most of your other European vacation destinations. My visit to Germany wasn't a book that I could put down or a movie that I could turn off; it was full immersion into the remnants of what happened, and that is the best that my generation can do when it comes to memorializing something that is in danger of becoming just another sad story among many others.

"You can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world, that is something you are free to do and it accords with your nature, but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid." - Franz Kafka

This article first appeared on November 22, 2008 and has been republished as part of the series JEWCYEST WEEK EVER.

A twentieth-century Eastern European writer who survived a variety of wars, movements, and renamings once said that he'd lived in five countries without ever leaving his house. During the fifteen months that I've been the editor of Jewcy, I've lived in several countries while always remaining in the same house. When I first started as the Editor of Jewcy, it was a for-profit enterprise with six other employees and a beautiful loft office in DUMBO. The following February, the company's initial investors pulled out of the venture, and my coworkers and I lost our jobs. In either the bravest or stupidest move I've ever made, I spent the next six months running the site myself out of my apartment, with no salary. Fortunately, JDub Records came along and adopted Jewcy - suddenly, I became part of the JDub staff. I can honestly say that, despite the fact that I am nowhere near cool enough to work at a record label, the JDub team always made me feel at home.

As much as it's been weird to have the country of Jewcy changing around me, there's one reason that I kept doing this job: because I believe in it. More specifically, I believe in Jewish journalism and the power it has to help people struggling to find a place within their faith and culture, as well as to encourage debate, discussion, and dissent from those already within it. I can't urge you enough to stay involved with Jewcy and keep reading, as it's only going to grow. I'm not at liberty to reveal all of the secrets, but I can tell you there is a beautiful, easy-to-use redesign in the works that will leave all the other Jewish blogs crying (sorry, other Jewish blogs). I plan to come back and blog whenever possible, because I believe in the unique, diverse, and open-minded Jewish community that Jewcy fosters. Jewcy's traffic has gone up 12% since it was adopted by JDub in October, and I hope that you guys continue to hang out here and contribute to the ongoing conversation. 

I spent most of my life growing up in a place where I thought I was beyond the reach of Jewish traditions and history, believing that someone from my background could never find a place within the Jewish establishment. But somebody gave this patrilineal-descent, non-Hebrew-speaking, non-bat-mitzvahed, still-figuring-it-out Jew from North Carolina a job editing a Jewish website, and for that I will always be grateful. I hope that I've been able to foster an environment where any person who identifies as Jewish can feel welcomed and encouraged. Whether I was writing about soap operas, The Kotel, Scientology, or my ex-boyfriends, I've always been proud of the fact that I was writing for Jewcy.

Though I've enjoyed the chance to get to know all of the writers and commenters here, there are a couple of people who deserve particular recognition. Craig Leinoff, who had been with Jewcy since the beginning and built almost all of this website with his own bare hands (it's true, he welds with code), was always available to field my middle-of-the-night questions about wonky html and spam filters. Ashley Tedesco (who despite being a college undergraduate is already well on the way to being a fine journalist) stayed on as an unpaid intern after Jewcy's doors were closed, somehow squeezing post-editing and Twitter-updating into her already crammed class schedule. Aaron Bisman and Jacob Harris of JDub believed in the Jewcy/JDub proposition from the very beginning, and their commitment to both the brand and to me has been boundless.

Like any adventure, this one too had to end. I've been offered a job as the editor of a new women's lifestyle and entertainment site. It doesn't actually have a name yet, but I swear it totally exists. I accepted the position knowing that Jewcy is in good hands and trusting that it will continue to grow and thrive without me.

Anyway, my login is about to expire, so I should start wrapping this up.

As a famous philosopher once said, it's been real.

Finding myself single yet again, I've realized it's time to focus on self-improvement. This means both, as my sister put it, "not dressing like a lazy hooker" and returning to my favorite diet so I can get back down to my goal dating weight of 110 pounds (just at the weight limit where I can still be checked in as baggage on domestic flights).

Coming from a long line of giant fat people and a long history of a variety of eating disorders, it should come as no surprise that I have extensive experience with diets. Only one (aside from the anorexia/bulimia two-for-one special) has ever rendered halfway decent results, and thusly I plan on returning to this one immediately. 

My choice to opt for a rigid diet as opposed to just trying to eat well was prompted in part by a recent trip grocery shopping. Whenever I unpack a bag of groceries, I am forced to realize that I really only buy two categories of food: non-food and cry-for-help food. Non-food consists of Single Jewish Girl staples such as miso soup packets, celery, non-fat yogurt and diet soda. I usully get a good two to three bags of that stuff; it's food that allows you to go through the motions of eating without actually having to consume anything. Then I get a bag or two of cry-for-help food, which is essentially the stuff you eat when you get back from a horrible Jdate or have had a bit too much to drink and you're having a I-want-to-destroy-my-body-so-I'll-have-an-explanation-for-why-no-one-loves-me. This consists of... pretty much all the food I was raised on: ice cream, mac and cheese, deep fried lard wrapped in bacon dipped in sugar, etc. It gets hidden behind the non-food in the fridge in case people come over, of course.

It's depressing to purchase these items, and more importantly it's expensive. That's part of the beauty of my diet plan... it's entirely free (for me)! It's way cooler than Atkins and South Beach combined, and it's twice as effective! I call it... The J-Diet. It's a real breakthrough, and I ultimately plan on writing a book about it just as soon as I'm emaciated enough for the jacket photo.

What's so amazing and unique about The J-Diet is that you can eat whatever you want, whenever you want! The only stipulation is that someone you met on JDate buys it for you. Sound too good to be true? It isn't. I went on the J-diet for 4 months and lost 30 pounds! (This was back when I worked at Bergdorf's, where Russian aestheticians reminded me daily that "food is how the sadness gets in.).

Continue reading...

Three weeks ago, I wrote about the Matzah Ball, the “revolutionary” Jewish singles party on Christmas Eve, a.k.a the sleaziest Jewish-themed event I’ve ever been to. At the Matzah Ball, as I wrote, there was a table offering plastic surgery advice and coupons.

Yesterday, after I had finally got the grime of the event off of my skin, I got a call from the plastic surgery clinic that the organizers of the Matzah Ball had given my contact information to. (WTF Matzah Ball organizers?) “Congratulations!” a cheery voice told me. “You didn’t win the drawing, but you were a runner up.” She offered me $500 off of any “cosmetic procedure.” When I told her I wasn’t interested, she offered it to any of my family members, as long as they called back within 24 hours. “This is special for you, because you attended the Matzah Ball.”

As disgusted as I am, I can’t say I’m surprised. Cosmetic surgery has been a not-very-secret secret of mainstream Jewish American culture for a few generations now. Two of my three grandmothers (yes, I said three) had nose jobs by the time they were 18. Grandma Esther got a nose job in a small town in Ohio in the 1930s. Could that sound any more painful?

And by the time I was 12, Bubbe Debbie made it clear that she would pay for a nose job if I wanted one. By the time I was 18, I had to directly tell her to stop talking about my nose. I’d love to say my grandmothers or the Matzah Ball are exceptions to the rule, but unfortunately they aren’t. Is looking "like a Jew" still such a bad thing?

This post originally appeared on JSpot and is reprinted with permission

Remember Boyz II Men? I do, and I also remember dancing to "End of the Road" at a middle school dance, which is making me feel really old. Anyway, one of their members, Shawn Stockman, has been outed on a gossip site as being a bigamist. Well, not a real bigamist - he's only legally married to one woman, but he was "spiritually married" to another woman for nine years. Apparently it's cool because Shawn is an Israelite and they believe in polygamy. Wait, what?

For those of you playing along at home, the Israelites - or as they're better known, the Black Hebrews - believe themselves to be direct descendants of, well, the actual Israelites. Many Israelites do not identify as being mainstream Jews and consider themselves "true" members of the faith. Therefore, you're not likely to see them fighting over whitefish salad next week after services. Everybody's favorite "recovering" crackhead Whitney Houston reportedly claimed to be a Black Hebrew during a trip to Dimona, Israel in 2003.

Apparently, Shawn's lifestyle looked pretty appealing to fellow bandmate Wanye "The One Who Dated Brandy" Morris, who has reportedly converted to Judaism recently. Welcome to the party, guys! 

Designers often credit the music they listen to as the inspiration for their collections. Clearly Marc Jacobs is into showtunes - The Producers' tune "Springtime for Hitler" has never been illustrated in fashion more vividly than in Jacobs' Fluo Passementary Lily Hobo Bag from his SS10 accessories collection. You do not need to be a grandchild of a Holocaust survivor or a genius to look at this fashion accessory and see a swastika there.

Marc Jacobs currently has a hand in designing multiple collections, including Louis Vuitton, his namesake collection Marc Jacobs and his more affordably priced Marc by Marc Jacobs line. It's possible that his being overworked and spread quite thin attributed to his being (dare I say) less detail-oriented as he clearly overlooked this front and center swastika. Although it's likely that this imagery was not evoked intentionally, CounterfeitChic blogger Susan Scafidi appropriately asks whether there could be another, less offensive way to evoke German style inspirations into our ensembles...as if we often look to the Germans for style tips (sorry, Karl Lagerfeld). Clearly versed on the historic side of the issue, Scadifi points out that although Jacobs' bag's image turns to the left while Hitler's swastika faced right, this image is undoubtedly offensive - or at the very least, jarring and unsettling - to those who recognize it. The intricate detail of the bag may as well be replaced by a Post-It note that reads "Hitler's Hobo." Perhaps it's time to lay off the showtunes for a little while, Marc?

Nazi Couture?

Ever wondered how the Tel Aviv we know now - high rise buildings, awesome beaches, ritzy hotels - looked a hundred years ago? Well, thanks to this awesome video from Liron Damir, you can get a sense of how Tel Aviv evolved. This is one of the coolest, and best-looking, videos we've seen in quite some time.

Tel-Aviv-Jaffa from Liron Damir on Vimeo.

For the second time in the past year, I tracked down Natalie Portman at a public appearance in New York City and asked her about connections between her Jewish faith and her vegan diet. After the world's most famous Jewish vegan took the topic in a different direction in April, I asked her a much more direct question as part of The New York Times' Arts & Leisure Weekend on Saturday night.

While performing my journalistic duty as a Jewish-vegan blogger, I learned several fascinating things. First, Natalie loves the name "heebnvegan." (I somehow managed to maintain my composure when she said this.) Second, she apparently remembers our initial encounter. Third, she sees her decision not to take animals' lives for food as the core of her Judaism. Finally, she thinks vegetarian food in Israel and California is excellent, but unlike the world's second-most famous Jewish vegan, she finds New York vegetarian food disappointing.

Below is a transcript of our conversation during the Q&A portion of the event.

Continue reading...

Yids of the faygele variety know there are better ways to pay tribute to history's most famous Jewish carpenter than with an order of deep fried cat from Peking Palace. It ruins all those hours spent at the gym competing for the attention of hairless, muscled goyim. And watching A Christmas Story (you know, the treyf tale of that boy Ralphie who whines for a full 90 minutes about wanting a rifle under the tree) for the 50^th time on AMC not only seems boring, it probably qualifies as sacrilegious at this point.

Enter: Jewbilee. It's New York City's answer to the straight-laced Matzo Ball enterprise, and the brainchild of the J-queer community's current king Jayson Littman. "If all the straight girls at the Matzo Ball were wondering where all the cute Jewish doctors, lawyers, and professionals were, they went to the Christmas Eve Gay Jewbilee. But better they didn't show since they may very well have bumped into someone they're currently dating!" says Littman.

For the last three years, the party has been run under Littman's self-run event promotion venture He'bro and served as a much needed midnight mass for gay Torah-toters. And the 2009 bash at Manhattan's barely one-and-a-half-year-old hotspot Hudson Terrace was the best attended yet. Reality TV revelers may remember the space from the fiery finale of The Real Housewives of New York City - fittingly catty conditions for the over 850 boys who turned out to get their hands on a slice of kosher beef. When you consider drink prices high enough to make South Beach look like a stroll down the liquor aisle at Wal-Mart, that's quite a feat.

The crowd was decidedly homo but far from homogeneous. Minus the small herd of lesbians and other sexual minorities, the almost sinful celebration (fun fact: an astonishingly low number of drug infractions were reported) was comprised of 99% men. And these male party players fall into seven distinct categories - each with their own corresponding probability of shacking up. 

1. Husband Hunter

He's single, his mother doesn't know why, and he yearns to stand under the chuppah with any boy as long as his last name is Goldberg. In varying degrees, most of the attendees belong here. Unfortunately, this guy ends the party by logging onto JDate from his iPhone as he takes a taxi home - alone.

2. Long Island Lolita

Hailing from Hewlett, the drunk d-bag is dressed in a cheesy Robert Graham button-down, True Religion jeans, and D&G dog tags. He could spare losing 15 pounds and thinks his shit doesn't smell. It does. But somehow, he still manages to get laid.

Continue reading...

The Jewish climate change bus: Fresh from a cross-country jaunt on used vegetable oil.What would Moses drive? This was the title of a session on climate change at the Hazon Food Conference, held December 24 to 27 in Pacific Grove, Calif. Indeed, this is a question for the ages. Or for right now.

The conference came just a few days after the close of the United Nations' climate talks in Copenhagen, Denmark. The conference also marked the end of a journey by a very wacky school bus, which cruised across the country on used vegetable oil to raise awareness about the Jewish Climate Change Campaign. So it made sense for Jewish educator and environmental visionary Adam Berman to ask the question.

As it turns out, it didn't really matter when this conference on a Jewish food movement that emphasizes sustainability took place. Really, Jews should be asking themselves what the quintessential member of the Tribe would do about climate change every day, and modeling solutions themselves. Luckily, Jewish practices translate beautifully into concrete tactics.

Or so says Berman.

He also says every Jew should be able to stand on one foot and tell your uncle at your Passover Seder what's what with climate change-and why he should put down his gefilte fish and take action.

This presented a twist on that old story about Rebbe Hillel summing up the Torah in that flamingo-like stance. Intrigued with this idea, I decided to sit down with Berman and find out more about his views on the Jewish response to climate change.

You've been active with sustainability issues for many years. What has made you so passionate about the issue of climate change?
Adam Berman: Discussing a Jewish response to climate change
We can eat organic, and reduce the amount of pollution that goes into rivers, but if climate change continues, it would make life inhospitable to the majority of the life on the planet. If we don't focus on climate change, then success in all other issues will become irrelevant.

How does the "What Would Moses Drive?" session fit into a Jewish food conference?

It's clear that what we eat has climate implications. The tagline of the worst thing someone in the developing world can do is drive an SUV to the steakhouse.

What WOULD Moses drive?

A camel. Although they might not have had those in Egypt at the time, but we don't have to get into that.

Continue reading...

Jewcy needs interns! Are you an intern who needs Jewcy?

We're seeking editorial interns for spring 2010 - from January to May, thereabouts. Applicants should be college students, grad students, or recent grads based in the New York City area who are interested in Jewish journalism and web media.

You can see the full job description here.

To apply, email Jewcy Editor Lilit Marcus at lmarcus@jewcy.com. Please send a resume attached in MS Word format and in the body of an email explain why you think you’d be a great fit for the position. The subject line should be “Jewcy Intern Spring 2010.”

"My name is Henio Zytomirski. I am seven-years-old. I live on 3 Szewska Street in Lublin." So begins the profile of Heino Zytomirski, a young addition to Facebook. Why should we care? Because Heino is dead-a young victim of the Holocaust. His profile and status updates are written by Piotr Buzek, a 22 year-old staff member of the Brama Grodzka Cultural Center in Lublin, Poland. The Center says that it is harnessing new technology to teach the internet generation about the history of Jews in Poland and to keep their memory alive.

To be perfectly honest, I feel queasy about this approach. First of all, much of what the Center does focuses on Lublin's Jewish past. Which is important and necessary. But in doing so, it also looks backwards and not ahead. There is increasing evidence that Jewish communities in Poland not only exist, but are growing. Just look at the articles recently published by JTA. So why isn't the Center celebrating and advertising those triumphs? It could easily choose a young 20-something living Polish Jew to talk about his life, his experiences, and his hopes to friends around the world.

Secondly, how can Heino's story, as horrific as it is, help us today? If more non-Jews are aware of Jewish life in Poland pre-Holocaust and about their subsequent extinction through Heino and his Facebook page, then, again, I applaud the Center's efforts. But it does no good to focus solely on the Holocaust and not address contemporary issues and conflicts. It is not enough to examine the past and proclaim what we should have or would have done. Indeed, it is too easy to demonstrate support for a long-deceased boy from the comfort and safety of our own homes via computer. Efforts like these are gimmicks, superficial stabs at righting old wrongs that we can never right, however we might wish it otherwise. No matter how many friends Heino makes, they will never be able to save him from death.

Issues of anti-Semitism and intolerance and racism continue to exist in Poland, just as they exist everywhere. There are contemporary victims of other types of oppression and violence around the world whose fates are not sealed and for whom our actions can make a difference. These are the people that we should be creating Facebook pages for. The Center could harness the power and energy of social media and its users to offer a means to organize and fight against injustice that can actually make a difference. If nothing else, we owe to it Heino.

This post originally appeared on In This Moment and is reprinted with permission. 

In the second installment of his new cooking video series here on Jewcy, JDub's Director of Events Adam Teeter shows you how to make delicious latkes - one batch out of traditional potatoes, and the other out of zucchini and squash. This post includes special cameos from The Macaroons and, of course, Hanukkah Harry.

Continue reading...

Every once in a while I feel sorry for myself because my kids won’t eat my lovingly prepared meals; for comfort, I seek out one of my fellow moms, specifically those with teenagers. Invariably they look at me with a withering ‘well let me get you the violins and a stiff drink fast, your poor thing’ stare, reminding me that I am a mere amateur at kitchen rejection. When I hear their tales of trying to feed their teens, my load somehow seems lighter, more manageable. Snarky, picky, and sometimes downright nasty, it is no easy task to manage teens at the table.

Enter Rozanne Gold and her new book, Eat Fresh Food: Awesome Recipes for Teen Chefs. I sat down with the author and discovered that the book’s appeal to teens is as organic as its recipes. Gold recently adopted a teen-ager and for the past few years they have been coming together as a family, in and out of the kitchen. Her daughter was one of five teen chefs engaged to prepare and test each recipe. Their collective industry and obvious enjoyment is evidenced throughout the book with hands-on pictures depicting their efforts.

“Something a little quirky is that everyone, everyone is talking about childhood obesity and overeating and diabetes and getting back to the table – no one wrote a book. Someone forgot to write the book.” She correctly assessed that the literature includes many books about cooking, kids, and healthy eating, but few if any that feature well known chefs who have cross referenced their work with a nutritionist in order to serve the teen audience. This gap as well as her family changes prompted her to write the book and have nutritionist Helen Kimmel review and validate the recipes. Coupled with her teen chefs’ participation and stamp of approval, the book has a tremendous sense of leading-edge authenticity.

“I like being the first to do things”, says Gold. A food pioneer, she graduated from Tufts and and did graduate work at NYU. With no formal culinary training, Gold beg, borrowed, and stole experience, and at 23 became the Executive Chef at Mayor Koch’s Gracie Mansion. “I catered the first seder ever at Gracie Mansion. It was a great experience. The Mayor told me to put Perrier (instead of seltzer) in the matzo balls which I had never done before. I did a traditional seder for his family. Holiday favorites included anything with garlic, as well as brisket with vermouth, onions, and a bay leaf.” Many books and restaurants later, she has become a well-known force in the food world. Just this week, she broke boundaries by having her book referenced in the New York Times' Health blog, as well as featured in the Science section for its unique approach.

Gold does admire others in the industry attempting to improve school and home meals for children, including Bill Telepan, Ann Cooper, and Lynn Fredericks. But for this book, she felt she had to pave a new path. “Setting criteria for what eating fresh food means was a process. Working with the nutritionist, we definitely decided not to go the route of calories or counting, but to come up with some broader way of expressing healthy food. The original title was Ketchup Ain’t A Vegetable,” laughed Gold. “I’m not doctrinaire about this at all. There is so much discussion about good food and bad food. My solution, my definition is eat fresh food. Which is also a way of saying no processed food or very little processed food. That became my benchmark. The basis of every recipe is that a vegetable or a fruit has to be the star of the dish. You will find this in every recipe. That is my bottom line. The fact that there is very little meat in there is cognizant of the fact that kids are serious about wanting to be vegetarians; 80 – 90% of the book is suitable for vegetarians.”

Continue reading...

Bubbe Wendy's Hanukkah Latkes (Fancy Wendy's Hash Browns)
by Erik of Fancy Fast Food, with assistance and a little bit of hand modeling from me

Hey everybody, it's Hanukkah! It's Chanuka! No matter how you spell it, it's time for the Jewish festival of lights -- eight crazy nights of dreidels gone wild, a time when latkes are as abundant as old yentas around a mahjongg table. But you don't need to be Jewish to partake in Hanukkah traditions, particularly the gastronomic treat of latkes (or lattkes). No matter how you spell it, "latkes" is Yiddish for fried pancakes, typically of the potato variety -- making it oddly similar to McDonald's hash browns. However, Bubbe Wendy has guilted us into using her Fancy Fast Food recipe ("If you just want to use McDonald's hash browns, then I guess that's fine by me..."), so here goes. Oy...

Ingredients (from Wendy's):

• 8 orders of hash browns (for the eight nights of Hannukah)
• 2 baked potatoes (with packets of sour cream and "Buttery-Best Spread")
• 2 orders of mandarin oranges
• 1 small soft drink
• 1 bottle of water
• packets of Sweet & Sour Sauce
• packets of sugar
• packets of salt and pepper
• a pinch of Jewish guilt (may be substituted with Catholic guilt)
• organic chives (for garnish and a touch of irony)

Latkes are traditionally served with apple sauce or sour cream. We already have the latter, so we're going to have to make the apple sauce. Unfortunately, Wendy's sells no apple products whatsoever, so we'll have to get creative.

What are apples? They are a kind of fruit that are sometimes sweet, sometimes sour, and so naturally we will start with Sweet & Sour Sauce. To add a fruity pulp to it, we'll add the mandarin oranges -- but that's fine; Bubbe Wendy moved down to Boca.

Put the manadrin oranges in a food processor and purée them, then strain out the extraneous juice. Mix this pulp in a bowl with the Sweet & Sour Sauce. The color is a bit intense to look like real apple sauce, so scoop out some baked potato (minus any chives) and mix it in -- the French call potatoes "pommes de terre" (apples of earth) so we'll go with it. Mush and whisk it all until it sort of looks like apple sauce; add sugar until it's as sweet.

Next, the latkes themselves. Take all the mini hash brown nuggets and mush them with your hands. Touching them, you'll realize they are all too greasy for things to stick together, so we'll need to make a batter to work as a binding agent.

Put one baked potato, minus the skin, into a food processor and add about a quarter cup of water. Hit purée and voilà: batter! Add this potato batter to your pile of hash browns and mix thoroughly in a bowl. Add salt and pepper as desired.

Continue reading...

It's that time of year again. Stores are playing Christmas music on a nonstop loop, there are tree-sellers on every corner, and the Jews are grumpy about only getting a tiny amount of Hanukkah stuff in the holiday aisle at the local craft shop. I'm no Grinch, but there's one thing about the holiday season that really makes me crazy. It's not the 17,000 different versions of "Jingle Bells" or the TV networks being hijacked by shmaltzy feel-good movies. No, it's one word: Chrismukkah.

Here's the thing. I grew up in an interfaith home. We celebrated Hanukkah and Christmas every year. There was a menorah and a Christmas tree, stockings and gelt. However, we did not make any attempt to shove the two holidays into one easily digestible, meaningless lump. Sometimes they were three entire weeks apart and didn't overlap at all, thus highlighting the fact that they were distinguishable from each other. I liked learning about both sides of my heritage. Besides - why combine the two holidays into one if it means you get fewer presents?

The reason Chrismukkah bothers me is that it wasn't something interfaith families came up with on their own, it was something created by TV executives and marketers in an attempt not to fill a genuine societal need but to sell products to an emerging percentage of the population. Most people who have heard of Chrismukkah know it from the (now-cancelled) TV show The OC, where Adam Brody played Seth Cohen, the son of a Jewish father and Christian mother. Chrismukkah was, like many things on that show (I mean you, "Califoooooooornia" theme song), cute for about five minutes. But after a few too many Santa hat kippot and Star-of-David-printed stockings, it got annoying. Rather than combining two things into something even better - chocolate and peanut butter, for example, or The Real World/Road Rules Challenge - Chrismukkah makes both holidays worse. It waters down both holidays into mindless kitsch and accessories. It takes the Christ out of Christmas and the Maccabees out of Hanukkah, to the benefit of neither holiday.

Chrismukkah is something that had potential to be funny or clever but instead got beaten into the ground by people eager to make it "trendy," and, more specifically, make money off of it. After all, if Christmas is the biggest shopping season of the year, imagine what would happen if you combined Christmas with another holiday? Talk about a publicist's wet dream. Not only can they send their "please include us in your gift guide!!1!" emails to all the Christians, now they can send their Chrismukkah pitches to Christians and Jews.

Well, here's an unsolicited piece of advice: stop sending me any email that contains the word "Chrismukkah" in the title. Currently, I delete all of them without opening them, although I occasionally open one just to make fun of it. Between Administrative Professionals' Day and Valentine's Day, I have enough manufactured holidays to observe. My calendar - and my inbox - are full. At least until PurEasterOver.

With eighty degree days and no sign of chill in sight, Thanksgiving seemed a far-off option in a country that is more familiar with religious Pilgrims than the sort that settled New England. But left to some homesick Americans with a penchant for good wine, the holiday can turn into much more than the one celebrated in the good ole US of A--the one preceded by a large parade and capped off with black Friday.

Twelve Americans and one Israeli gathered in a lovely apartment in Jerusalem as the weekend began in the holy land. Two poets, four rabbis in waiting, a computer engineer, a photographer, a teacher and a few visitors began the evening, not with the carving of a bird or the giving of thanks, but with the popping of some bubbly. The notion of this meal was not to follow the dictates of tradition but rather to create something new: five courses, each paired with a specific wine, and lemon sorbet to cleanse our palettes in between.

The first course, appetizers enjoyed before setting down at the table, included veggie antipasto and veggie chopped liver. They were accompanied by a bottle of Cava and a bottle of Brut. These were my favorite wines--cold, sparkling, the perfect start to a fascinating meal.

Everyone found their seat, finished off their Cava and moved onto the second course. In an effort to not leave tradition completely in the dark, one of the guests prepared a honey sage cornbread--in my opinion, a modern American classic. Sweet, savory, amazing. This was served with a carrot soufflé--the recipe of a guest's aunt and the perfect retake on the sweet potato marshmellow combination that often graces Thanksgiving tables. As we were now seated at the table, the cries of "Pimp your dish" began--a chorus that followed us through the night and necessitated that the cook give the origins and secrets of his or her recipe. This course was served with Chenin Blanc.

Before moving on to course three, we were served lemon sorbet to make sure our palates were clean and prepared to best enjoy what came next. The third course included a stuffing recipe out of Long Island and a gourmet macaroni and cheese. The mac and cheese truly shamed Kraft--big shells covered in mozzarella, cheddar, and gruyere with tomato slices for color. Sauvignon Blanc, a few rounds of Johnny Appleseed, more sorbet and on to course four.

The fourth course was the real meat of the meal, minus the meat. Salmon done in a cumin rub, sour cream mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli and homemade cranberry sauce. Any other night, this would be the entire meal. On this Thanksgiving, this and some Tempranillo equaled just the fourth course.

With all of the savory food dispensed, we moved on to the best and most important course--dessert. Pumpkin cheesecake bars, chocolate pecan pie, pumpkin pie, dark chocolate truffles and Malbec to boot.

I walked in knowing only the hosts and two other people. I walked out with a handful of new friends, a full belly and real inspiration--this was not a Thanksgiving without thought or hope. This group of temporary expats really redefined the notion of Thanksgiving for me; each course was given its time, its wine and its appreciation. There were true thanks given at this meal--for the food in front of us, for friends new and old, and for the ability to celebrate the holiday despite our proximity to New England. 

Holiday accommodations span far wider than hotels and motels.

Whether a host, guest, family member, friend, neighbor, colleague, or otherwise, the holidays are a time when we are all brought together under many circumstances, and required to deal with each other in ways unlike most other days. It brings out the best and worst in everyone. For me, it often feels like these decisions define me. I have always struggled in balancing truth with tact, and tend to be either far too blunt and direct or completely spineless. And of course I also struggle with wanting so very much to accommodate without compromising my principles or even identity.

An example from my own experience. One Passover, a couple showed up, stoned, and presented me with a cake. Not exactly the Elijah I was expecting. And this was a real, Italian bakery, flour and butter laden, gorgeous cake. I had no idea what to do. Part of me was humiliated, because they know I am observant. Part of me was terrified not to be a gracious host, or to spoil the otherwise wonderful occasion. Part of me (a really big part of me) wanted to slap them silly. So what did I do? I put it out on a non-Passover plate and kicked myself for the rest of the holiday. Not my greatest moment.

There are other dilemmas. What do you serve for Thanksgiving? Do you send holiday cards? Do you attend Christmas parties or invite non-Jews to your Chanukah gatherings? Is a cookie exchange acceptable? Do you nibble on the catering at the company holiday party? I feel like November and December are fraught with these kind of decisions. And while the actual choices are very important, often the process and conversation are equally if not more significant. If you refuse that holiday ham, can you do it in a way that does not offend? How do you not break bread without breaking faith? What can you offer to mitigate your refusal?

I'd like to hear more of your stories. How do you accommodate for the holidays?