It almost looks like a comics display when first walking into the "Confronting Hate 1937-1952" exhibit at the New York-Historical Society on Manhattan's Upper West Side. "Thrilling," "extra," "Joe the Worker" and "TV Spots" pop out from the enlarged comics wrapped around the top of the display cases in a small room of what is said to be the city's first museum.

Follow Israel Hayom on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram

"It's extremely timely," said Debra Schmidt Bach, curator of the exhibit. "It addresses the current state of affairs. The whole idea of fighting against bias of all groups is very important. It is timeless."

The small space in a side room at the towering, huge museum complex tells the story of the American Jewish Committee's unique way to combat antisemitism, mostly through cartoons, comic books and engaging advertisements. The exhibit started last month and runs until Jan. 1.

"Don't just stand there. Get me some white, native-born, sixth-generation American stretcher-bearers," one comic strip of the "Mr. Biggott series," published in hundreds of newspapers, declared the comic of man who slipped on a banana peel. Another strip depicting a man holding a clarinet standing at the entrance to the US Army General Hospital says, "I have come to entertain the wounded. Lead me to the ward for white, native-born, sixth-generation Americans."

The campaign that went from 1937 to 1945 was spearheaded mostly by Richard Rothschild, a writer of philosophy who also worked for an advertising agency. "The problem was how to prevent Nazi-type antisemitism," Rothschild said in a 1973 interview, "then the official policy of the German government from establishing itself firmly in this county."

He totally ignored the rhetoric from the antisemitic American Gentile newspaper, presented at the opening of the exhibit that reads: "Let's take America away from the Jews," where in order for America to be "free to survive," the Jewish "Carthage must be destroyed."

Rothschild went on to explain that there needs to be a specific social remedy for a specific social malady, with antisemitism being no exception. Nazism, he said, wanted to spread internal discord. Taking their cues from military strategy, they wanted to divide and conquer. "Divisiveness can be the source of a country's greatest weakness," he said.

Thus, instead of a campaign about Jews, he produced comic books that spoke about the importance of unity. One with the heading, "The Story of Scapegoats in History: They Got the Blame," does a quick review of the history of scapegoats in India and how the Romans persecuted the Christians, and then on to Hitler's persecution of Catholics. "In Germany, you must preach only the word of Adolf Hitler," a German soldier is seen hollering. The comic continues, noting that Hitler's diabolic scheme embraced the whole world. "Every country has minorities. In America, especially, it will be easy for our agents to incite group against group. Remember the bigger the lies we tell, the quicker the people will believe them!"

After seven pages, it depicts Hitler flooding America with Nazi propaganda, telling the reader they are trying to split America into two: "Blame everything on the Jews! Unemployment, high prices, everything! It worked in German, and it will work here."

The comic ends with a man declaring, "You can't pull the wool over the eyes of real Americans." The final message, with the art of people from various nations with their flags flying in the back, states, "Marching together in common cause of human freedom, the men and woman of the united nations are determined to build a world free of prejudice and intolerance. … Do unto others as you would have others do unto you!"

Rothschild explained that antisemites portrayed themselves as "defenders of all the good" and the Jews as "enemies of mankind." What he aimed to do was eliminate this idea. "The antisemites themselves had to be put on the defensive; they had to be the ones in the criminals' dock," he said.

'We're all Americans'

The director of AJC's archive, Charlotte Bonelli says that this program to combat antisemitism was cutting-edge for its times, "They had the willingness to embrace something new, new technology," she said, adding that prior to this campaign, it was more about diplomacy; "going into the world with mass media is something new for them."

For the first six years of the project, the AJC did not use its name. That changed after the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising in 1943, when they began to produce one-minute programs to be broadcasted on the radio.

From an antique radio, visitors can hear one such broadcast at the exhibit. "You know, boys and girls, we're all Americans," the broadcaster says. "I'm an American, and you're an American, and your mothers and daddies are Americans … maybe you know a boy or girl who is different from you. I mean whose skin is a different color, black or brown or yellow."

While the material has been known for more than a decade and has been touted by the AJC for even longer, this exhibit could have not come at a better time. The Anti-Defamation League reported earlier this year that in 2021, antisemitism reached the highest level since they began tracking it in 1979. This includes of 2,717 reported incidents of assault, harassment and vandalism, with more than 680 "Jewish individuals violently beaten in the streets from New York to Los Angeles" last May during Israel's 11-day conflict with Hamas in the Gaza Strip.

With that, "Confronting Hate," says Bonelli, doesn't tell you how to combat antisemitism; the message is to not give in to fear or cynicism. "Not that they are going to wipe out antisemitism and racism," the archivist says, "but they believe that they can make progress."

Schmidt Bach says that the material expresses optimism and goes beyond explaining that Jews are just like the others: "Even if you don't understand someone who is different than you, there is so much that we could learn from each other."

Reprinted with permission from JNS.org.

Subscribe to Israel Hayom's daily newsletter and never miss our top stories!

The post 'Confronting Hate' exhibit portrays how AJC broached antisemitism during World War II appeared first on www.israelhayom.com.

To stay relevant in the age of COVID-19, with synagogues across the globe shuttered, Zoom classes and prayer services have become the norm. Reform congregations broadcast their services on the Sabbath and Jewish holidays live, and a recent ruling by the Rabbinical Assembly of the Conservative movement approved the same.

 Follow Israel Hayom on Facebook and Twitter

However, in Orthodox synagogues where congregants do not turn on the lights – or any electrical apparatus, for that matter – from Friday at sundown to after nightfall on Saturday night, events on the computer, are out of the question. Thus, Orthodox synagogues have to become more creative, says Benny Rogosnitzky, cantor at the iconic New York City Park East Synagogue, where he also organizes the prayer services online.

"Zoom has been the greatest challenge to the survival of our synagogues," says Rogosnitzky about traditional synagogues that cater to many who are not strictly Orthodox Jews, but enjoy attending their services. "When 10 blocks away a temple is connecting to you on Zoom on the Sabbath, why should they join us?"

Still, pre-Sabbath prayer services and sermons are one of the ways that many synagogues have been connecting with congregants and others these past three months under coronavirus lockdowns.

"The Zoom events are an imperfect way of staying connected," says Andy Wells, an attorney from Greenwich, Conn., who attends the weekly pre-Sabbath Zoom with Chabad of Greenwich. "This fills that void of there being no synagogue. I find it as a pleasant transition from the week to Shabbat and I look forward to it every week."

For Cohen, there are some advantages to Zoom services, which he usually does for different crowds, topping some 300 viewers weekly. "It is very family-oriented, with kids and grandparents joining in."

Yaakov Lemmer, cantor at Lincoln Square Synagogue in New York City, plays the piano and sings traditional melodies welcoming the onset of Shabbat. Source: Screenshot.

He says that Zoom events brought down the barrier that synagogues have between the ages, and in Orthodox synagogues, the genders in families. Couples will stand side by side with their children, and join together in singing and even dancing to Cohen's melodies. (On One Zoom event, a man in jest held a partition between him and his wife.)

Rogosnitzky concurs, saying that was the plus of undertaking this with the school – the children participate in the event. They also do candle-lighting, which became very meaningful for many, he affirms: "It is inspirational, the world is so dark, and message is that we are alive, we are happening."

In a synagogue, says Cohen, worshippers and religious leaders alike face the ark. But via Zoom, those directing services can see the feedback from the community, making it a very rewarding experience. In addition, he says, being able to use his guitar has brought a new flavor to the services, something he has never been able to do on the Sabbath itself.

'I don't use fatigue as the excuse'

On the West Coast, Rabbi Gershon Albert at Beth Jacob Congregation in Oakland, Calif., thinks that the musical aspect of the Zoom experience will transfer to the Orthodox Friday-night experience. "In the past, I was reluctant to us instruments," he says, "because it is not in the spirit of Shabbat. Now that it was ruled that it was OK if we start before Shabbat, I would consider doing it in the future."

Still, he counters, the reason why the members at his congregation, many of whom are secular, choose to join them is because of the Orthodox experience. "Shabbat is about getting away from screens after an entire week on computers and smartphones," he says, "Now we are logging on to do 'Lecha Dodi.' "

At Park East, Rogosnitzky agrees on that point. With Zoom, a certain ambiance of the synagogue is missing – after all, "you could be coming out of a bathtub and watching services," he quips. He does, however, say that for the interim, instruments have helped bring people into the spirit.

Still, his view is that when the main threat of the coronavirus has passed, "we will not necessarily we need them like we need them now."

While instruments have been one way to keep the crowd coming, Hadas Fruchter, founder of the South Philadelphia Shtiebel (a place used for communal Jewish prayer), says it takes considerable effort to keep everyone engaged on Zoom. She makes an effort to greet every person that joins by their name and make the message to each one individual "to humanize the experience."

But she as well as others acknowledged a certain "Zoom fatigue." Something that appeared to be a sound solution at first – and it was and still has been – is getting old.

Yisroel Pekar, a parenting coach in Brooklyn, NY, concurs, saying that at first, he was excited to join the weekly sermon that the rabbi of his synagogue would deliver on Zoom. "However, being all week on the computer, and then going back on the computer, just wasn't spiritually fulfilling."

He notes that his synagogue will be opening, and he looks forward to listening to the actual sermon.

In Connecticut, Wells says that going back to live services even with the synagogue opening outdoors for the summer is not an option at this time for him and many others.

Attendance to Zoom services, he says, is like everything in life, at first exciting and then needs a boost. "I don't use fatigue as the excuse; some mornings I wake up and want to pray, and some mornings, it is a struggle. The same is with business."

'I cannot wait to see them in person'

While the effects of COVID-19 on the future of synagogue life are still up in the air, most say that Zoom and online services is a thing that will stay for a long time, if not for eternity.

"It certainly gives a chance for those who are alone and can't get to services to connect," says Aviva Zobin of Ner Yisrael Community, a synagogue in the London suburb of Hendon. "I imagine it will continue when we open."

In Philadelphia, Fruchter says that it is only ethical for those who cannot come, for whatever reason, at synagogue itself to being given the opportunity to join at least virtually, when permitted, under Jewish law. "We are going to keep providing both," she says.

Rogosnitzky differs a bit, saying Zoom services are "far second to actually being at services."

Subscribe to Israel Hayom's daily newsletter and never miss our top stories!

Being in synagogue, he notes, has a spirit to it – looking at the ark and physically being next to others. "Peoples are yearning to come back to synagogue. I don't see Zoom as competition to the synagogue experience; I see it as a vehicle to keep the connection during this time."

Albert is more cautious of the future, saying he is curious to see what will happen when the doors open again. "Who will feel comfortable, and who won't feel comfortable? I think that there is a craving for synagogue, but I think there will be some fear, and some may just choose to stay home."

For Fruchter's small congregation, Zoom has brought new people to their events who might have been nervous to join a traditional experience in person. She believes they are relieved, have warmed up and might just become regulars.

"I am so excited for the moment we return to synagogue," she practically gushes. "I cannot wait to see them in person, I cannot wait to invite for Shabbat dinner. I cannot wait to just greet them and give them a hug."

Reprinted with permission from JNS.org.

The post As Zoom fatigue sets in, religious leaders and congregants look to post-COVID prayer appeared first on www.israelhayom.com.

With few cars on the road, other sounds can be heard during the day, such as the murmur of prayer services. For the Orthodox, communal prayer services are like praying in the synagogue (temple). Theoretically, they can be held anywhere – as long as there is a minyan (a group of, at least, 10 men over age 13).

Follow Israel Hayom on Facebook and Twitter

 With synagogues shuttered in communities worldwide, praying on the porch – or "porch minyan," as it's been dubbed – has become the new norm in many Orthodox communities across the globe. The cantor leading the prayers says them in a booming voice so the words can be heard at a distance.

For the most part, such services have been received by non-Jewish neighbors with appreciation. "Our neighbors just delivered this lovely gift to all homes on our street," Jennifer Dorner posted on Facebook, about those who were praying on the porches on her Montreal, Quebec, block, "as a token of appreciation since they've been coming out onto their porches to pray. But the singing and prayers have already been such a gift!"

Using only his first name so as not to draw attention, Michel, 71, an administrator at a local boys' day school in Crown Heights, prays all three daily prayer services with a minyan. "This is davening for me," he said, using the Yiddish word for praying, saying that without a minyan, his prayers don't feel real. "That is the way I was trained from childhood, and that is the way I feel most comfortable doing it."

From his porch, there is no minyan that he could pray with, so he goes to nearby ones mostly on other blocks. Michel rattles off the times and locations of several places where an afternoon prayer service can be found these days. He notes that for his own safety, some locations will not let him join since he is over the age of 65, and others say that only those who are their own porch can join.

'It's more about cabin fever'

Rabbis across the globe have banned the porch minyan on various grounds. In March the rabbinical court of Crown Heights made it clear that even an outdoor minyan was prohibited, saying "it is our opinion that individuals should daven alone in their houses at this time." 

One of the three rabbis who signed the letter succumbed to COVID-19.

Despite this, as weeks staying home, have started to wear people down, the "porch minyan" phenomenon has increased in the neighborhood.

"I can't wrap my head around it," says Eli Uminer, who himself has been sick with the coronavirus. "If it is a question of life or death, one is allowed to even desecrate Shabbos. In Jewish law, it states that you do this even if there is less than a one out of a thousand percent chance of dying."

He says that while many remain on porches, some come from other streets and stand close to the home of the prayer leader. "I think that in terms of the virus, if done right it could be OK. But in reality, it never ends up that way. Therefore, they should be banned."

Uminer says that even without those conditions, for many, especially those in homes that are small and crowded with family members, "It's more about cabin fever."

The issue of crowding came to the forefront this week after a funeral for a revered rabbi in the nearby neighborhood of Williamsburg drew hundreds of Orthodox Jews from the Satmar community, leading to a stern rebuke from Mayor Bill de Blasio on Twitter. De Blasio later apologized for his remarks, which were widely condemned as anti-Semitic for singling out the Jewish community.

Under orders signed by New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo in March, public gatherings of any size or for any reason are strictly forbidden.

Rabbi Yosef Braun, one of the three rabbis in Crown Heights who signed the original letter prohibiting the minyans, spoke about the topic in a Zoom class in April, saying that nothing has changed from the ruling in March. He notes that it is too complicated and too difficult to keep social distancing, even on the porch. This is especially true during morning prayers, and on the Sabbath and holidays, when prayers are longer. During those times, he explains, it's hard to keep a face mask on, people naturally begin to gather around each other, and he has even seen worshippers bring children – meaning a father could have to chase after them and mistakenly come dangerously close to others.

Braun says his home has a porch, and he could easily join a minyan. Nevertheless, he won't do it because "besides the health concerns, there's a host of halachic [Jewish law] concerns."

Other rabbis have permitted these prayer sessions, including one of the local rabbis on the Crown Heights rabbinical board who did not sign the original letter. Rabbi Berel Bell, a member of the rabbinical court in Montreal, initially wrote to his community in March, advising that they not hold outdoor minyans. More recently, however, he has joined one himself, and under certain conditions has permitted others to do the same.

Just before the afternoon prayer services on one street, Dr. Reuben Ingber notes that it was wonderful to have the possibility to pray from his porch with a minyan. "I don't see anything wrong with it," he says. "Do you want to join?"

Reprinted with permission from JNS.org.

The post 'Porch minyans': Brooklyn's answer to balcony prayers appeared first on www.israelhayom.com.