It has become common knowledge that Jews were forcibly tattooed when they had to enter concentration camps during the Holocaust, but there is very little known about the tattooists themselves. Were they Nazis? Fellow prisoners? Were they proud of their work or did they dread playing a role in torturing their fellow man? The Tattooist of Auschwitz is a novel written by Heather Morris, published in 2017. The book tells the story of Slovakian Jew, Lale Sokolov, who was imprisoned in Auschwitz in 1942. Because of his ability to speak multiple languages, Sokolov became the “Tatowierer”, the prisoner in charge of tattooing identification numbers on his fellow prisoners. While performing his job as the Tatowierer, Sokolov met Gita Furman when he gave her her number, 34902. Within the first moments of their encounter, Sokolov vowed that he would find a way to survive, and he would marry this girl. The novel follows Sokolov’s journey of using his privileged position as the Tatowierer to help bring food and resources to the other prisoners, and the trials and tribulations that came with that risk. Through multiple separations and reunions, Sokolov and Gita find their way back to each other after the war and were together until Gita’s death in 2003.  The gates of Auschwitz, Poland, 1965. The sign above them is 'Arbeit Macht Frei', which translates to ‘Work Makes You Free'. Originally written as a screenplay, Morris spent years interviewing Sokolov before his death in 2006. The interviewing process took place in Melbourne, Australia, where Sokolov and his beloved Gita Furman moved when the war was over to start a new life and raise their son, Gary.  Throughout her novel, Morris brings the reader into the mind of Lale Sokolov. We get to feel his fear, relish in his sneaky accomplishments, and grieve his losses. Her interview process with Sokolov was so in depth and drawn out that Morris was able to form a whole world for the reader based within Sokolov’s mind. The depiction of Sokolov’s thoughtfulness and attention to detail at every turn continuously sucks the reader in from the moment he gets on the train for Auschwitz.  Quickly after arriving, the men all line up to be marked with their identification numbers with the first chapter of the novel. “The tattooing has taken only seconds, but Lale’s shock makes time stand still.” Wrote Morris. “He grasps his arm, staring at the number. How can someone do this to another human being? He wonders if for the rest of his life, be it short or long, he will be defined by this moment, this irregular number: 32407.”  Despite the initial fear that courses through Sokolov that first day at Auschwitz, hope is a continuous theme throughout the novel, constantly bringing the reader back to the idea that hope is what keeps Sokolov alive. He even says this to Gita during one of their brief weekly reunions, assuring her that hope will keep them alive and she must not forfeit her spirit. The theme of hope is woven through the entire novel, coming to a satisfying full circle moment when Sokolov and Gita finally reunite for good after the war ends and he says he never gave up hope that he would find her.  Morris also uses many of the touching moments to bring the reader's attention back to how important each life is. Her attention to detail for Sokolov’s feelings of guilt and sorrow as he tattooed each wrist is moving. It's clear that no matter how much ink passes through his needle, the pain of permanently altering another prisoner never fades. Regardless of every devastating and demeaning moment Sokolov faced, he never lost his humanity, and this is so vivid in every scene Morris describes.  Chapter six is made up mostly of an elongated scene of Sokolov tattooing a new set of prisoners. He continuously repeats to himself what the last Tatowierer taught him on his first day: “‘Save one, save the world,’ Lale says quietly, more to himself than the others.” There is a  Jewish saying,  “kol adam olam um lo'o” which means “every person is an entire universe”. This value is intrinsically taught throughout Jewish communities starting at a very young age. Each life holds immense value, and therefore should be treated as its own universe entirely.   Sokolov was taught that every person he saved was the equivalent of saving an entire universe, and this was one of the driving forces, along with hope and determination, that kept him going. His drive to help as many other people as he could help keep him alive, and this is continuously depicted by Morris throughout the entire novel. Although some of her writing may be lacking in scenery detail, the reader is never at a loss for what Sokolov was thinking we’re feeling at any given moment. Despite being a beloved and award winning  novel worldwide, including the Winner of the Small Publishers’Adult Book of the Year in Australia, The Tattooist of Auschwitz has also faced criticisms for its occasional historical inaccuracy.  An article  published in The New York Times discussed some disparities in historical facts used throughout the novel. For instance, a literary blogger from New Zealand, Lisa Hill , noted how the story about penicillin in the book was an “obscene distortion of reality” because penicillin was not available to the public until 1945.  “Even if Lale had known about the existence of penicillin, the idea that there would have been any for Jewish use in the Auschwitz hospital is fanciful.” Said Hill.  Despite some minor historical inaccuracies, a more worthwhile conversation may be how trauma affects memory. It's important to understand that Sokolov was in his early 20s when he experienced Auschwitz, and his interviews for this novel didn't take place until his late 80s, after Gita’s death.  Lale Sokolov with his son, Gary, born in 1961. Research  has shown it is extremely common for those who have experienced long periods of trauma to experience distorted memories or memory loss during the period of trauma. So, rather than dissecting every detail that Sokolov may have slightly altered during his interviews, it may be more worthwhile to appreciate the amount of sheer detail the book was able to provide the public and also recognize that over 60 years had gone by at this point. So, whether he requested penicillin or some other form of medicine for Gita really wasn’t the point of the story, but rather the fact that he had the courage to relive his harrowing story and time and time again found ways to save those he loved.  Novels such as these aid in keeping the memory of the Holocaust alive. So many today still attempt to disprove the relevance of the Holocaust, or the event in its entirety. Not only do these personal stories give the reader a glimpse into the world these survivors suffered through, but they remind us of the power of hope when it comes to survival.  Sokolov marked thousands with their numbers, but he himself was marked by hope the day he met Gita, and this is what kept him alive. Morris’s skilled retelling of Sokolov’s story, along with her vivid use of sensory imagery and memory gives the reader as close to Sokolov’s experience as one can get through words.

I was thinking about three things while writing this poem.  Many Jewish holidays and yahrzeits are marked by lighting candles. On Lag B’Omer, we mark the end of a mourning period by lighting a bonfire. A bonfire exudes much more light than a candle. What is meant to be illuminated on Lag B’Omer that doesn’t receive as much light on other days of the year? While a candle can be lit individually, a bonfire is meant to be kept and enjoyed by a community. A few weeks ago, Simone Rotman gathered friends for a beach bonfire in celebration of her birthday. After an ocean dip, Lior Kishinevsky explained the cute science of bonfires–that if everyone is gathered closely in a circle around the fire pit, the smoke has nowhere to escape but up. Therefore, wrapping our arms around each other prevents the smoke from flooding one unfortunate individual’s face.  The warm memory of celebrating Lag B’Omer at Hillel this year. A lot of students worked very hard to put on the event, and it served the community beautifully. There was so much joy in the air that evening, which only intensified when we transitioned to the firepit. Singing around a bonfire is such a classic bonding experience that channels ‘soulfulness’ and a gratitude toward the people around us. I am always amazed by the power of music and the shared responsibility of keeping a fire alive. (On a personal note, I had so much fun jamming on the ukulele next to Allen with his guitar and singing with a community that makes me feel so loved. My 20th birthday has become one of my favorite memories).  With that in mind, I hope you enjoy my poem, “Lag B’Omer.” Lag B’Omer I know us by a series of candles. Wax formations raise mountain ranges dripping vital colors as we design our landmarks.  I incarnate bright eyes at my fingertips disguised by a lapse in light years. We pretend time is soft to the touch and countable as the strands of gravity  braided in our hair, sizzling when brushed  across this stubborn sweetness– The musicality of string and song  in one breath: Your lips, our milky way. Your expression, the universe. I want to know everything.  The peaks and valleys of your portrait. The orbit of glances exchanged  through the smolder and cellophane. To be recognized by light, remembered by warmth,  held by a circle of friends– Perfectly arranged so that no one faces  the smoke alone, so that storm clouds  are coerced back towards the cosmos  until they find somewhere to fall nose over toes, swooning through the root system that is our legacy,  filling cups and buckets to hand off  when we notice emptiness, to put out the fires when some star flies too close to our earth. In pitch forest, we help another cut off the burdens that eclipse  our sunshine, your voice and hand that has led me to the land of honey  and firewood. That has taught me  to see and be seen in the dark.

Rabbi Jacobs is a Reform rabbi and the president of the Union for Reform Judaism. He spent 20 years as the rabbi of Westchester Reform Temple in Scarsdale, NY. Rabbi Jacobs is married to Susan K. Freedman and has three adult children. Q: W here are you from? A: I was born in New York City. Then my family moved to Orange County, California, where I spent my elementary, middle school, and high school years. Then headed off to the great University of California, Santa Barbara. Q: What was your religious upbringing like throughout your childhood? A: I went as a little guy to a conservative synagogue in New York, my family moved to Orange County, and we joined a fairly traditional, as in traditional practice, reform synagogue. I went to summer camp at an amazing place to go to California called Camp Swig, which was phenomenal. Q: What inspired you to become a rabbi? A: At UCSB, I took this history of Western philosophy was a year long course. It was really intense. And the professor made these disparaging comments about Judaism, you know, basically saying it was outdated, it really wasn't relevant to the modern world. And I went to his office hours and I said, 'Professor Weball, where do you get that?' He goes, yeah, I'm not really sure, but you should find somebody who can give you a really kind of expert view of Judaism. And that's how I got to Richard Hecht. He was still working on his PhD at UCLA, and I signed up for this guy's class. I didn't know anything about him but I walked into his class, and frankly, it was like the equivalent of him taking me by the shoulder and saying, 'sit down, you're gonna enjoy this, and we're gonna learn a lot.' I just locked in, took a year of classes there, and I would go to his office hours and want to talk more about the different issues. 
 Q: What congregations have you worked with? 
 A: When I was a student rabbi, I worked in Phoenix, Arizona, and I would fly every other weekend, and this was a great community of 100 households. I was like a total kid, I was 22 years old, and I was the only rabbi there... I didn't know how to do most things. It was like they'd ask me these questions and I said, you know, I'll get back to you on that, and then I'd go call one of my professors and be like 'what do I what with this?' But I loved it. I worked as an intern at Temple Isaiah, I took it as a part-time job because I was also dancing and choreographing, and began a PhD in ritual dance at NYU. So I was like trying to do a lot of different things. Then I worked there for about a decade, and then I went to the Congregation in Westchester, New York, and then I did that for 19 years. Then I got a knock on my door to interview for this job, leading the reformed movement, and I thought, nah, I don't wanna do that. I love being a rabbi, but I went I talked, I got really excited because this would allow me to try and think of things on a broader scale. I kind of make sure Jewish life is going to be alive and engaging and thriving, and it felt to me like, you know, it needed a giant reboot. So I started that 13 years ago, and here I am. 
 Q: How would you describe the core values of Reform Judaism to someone unfamiliar with it? A: It is to always be willing to adapt and change. Reform is in our name, right? Reform means never thinking that you have the final iteration of Jewish life. I mean, look at the 3,000-plus years of Jewish life. In fact, there are major renovations or reinventions of what it means to be Jewish. 
And so I think reform has always taken the view that that's not a downside. That's a huge opportunity. When people said, you know, Kashut is only these particular practices, and we want to make sure that eating is a sacred act, but why only these, why not those as well? So I think the willingness to think about the core principles, you know, building Judaism on deep learning and uh spiritual practice and an innate belief that every human is created in the divine image. 
Some of what makes life most meaningful are those other elements. 
 Q: What role do you feel like you personally have played in the reform movement since taking on this new role of yours? A: We see right now that more Jews are not connected to Jewish institutions than are. That's true for Hillels, synagogues, day schools, camps, and federations. There are more Jews who are coming to nothing, and I saw that. It's an urgent, urgent priority. 
Are we going to walk away and just say, 'I guess most people aren't interested, we're done,' or are we going to shrink and shrink and shrink, and the last person out turn out the lights? So I really prioritized from the beginning, this notion that the people outside weren't necessarily outside because they were uninterested, but they hadn't found something that spoke to them. 
And I related to that personally, because when I was a kid, a lot of what I experienced in my synagogue wasn't really what spoke to me, but when I looked, I found that. So we built bridges for people to come in and experience Jewish life. One of my earliest commitments was to somebody called Audacious Hospitality , which said that we needed to be particularly welcoming of interfaith families, people who had one Jewish parent, Jews of color, LGBTQ, people with disabilities, people with different viewpoints, and so on.
I just thought the richness of that diversity would give us strength and creativity. Q: When within the reform movement would you say that it became more accepted to have female rabbis? A: So we ordained the first woman in 72. But you're right to ask the question about when they were really accepted? Because that first group of women rabbis had a rough go. 
When I became the rabbi up in Westchester, my associate rabbi was this amazing woman who told me, 'Rick, I know you're Mr., like gotta change everything, but I want to appeal to you that we should you should wear a robe on Shabbat. And I'm gonna tell you it's the feminist reason to wear a robe.'
I thought it was a feminist reason that we should get rid of them. She said, 'No, I'll bet you any amount of money you've never been asked about your suit that you've worn to Temple, or the nature of your haircut. But here's the thing, I would give a high Holly service,' she told me, 'and people would not comment on my ideas or my sermon, they'd come up and talk about the blue suit that I was wearing, or why I got a different haircut.' And she said they were already treating her not like a rabbi, but somebody who was either their daughter or their colleague. She says, 'If we were robes, we would take out some of that whole visual that you're seeing people gendered in that way.' I tell you that story now, because it carries into everything I try to do. Q: What's the biggest challenge facing the reform movement right now? A: I think I think in some ways, one of the big challenges is our incredible diversity. 
It's our greatest strength. It can be a huge challenge. For example, like in a synagogue, you have people who are more traditional in their practice, some less so, and frankly, you still want people to feel like we're part of one community, right? 
So, kind of how do we let people make their own thoughtful choices as individuals, but still feel like we're a community, and something binds us together that that's compelling. I think one of the things that we're really struggling with is how to reinvent that tradition and hold on to things that are timeless. Some things should not be changed, like like all humans will create the image of God, so when the current administration of the United States wants to deport, dehumanize, and demonize people. We're obligated to treat every human being as a child of God with inherent rights and dignity. 
So I just think balancing the tradition and innovation is the very place where reform Judaism has to struggle and grow.

Just click the link... I promise it's not a virus- Allen

The infamous walk through Ben Gurion Airport down the sloped walkway towards border control has always brought tears to my eyes. I made that walk last June 2024 and this March 2025, yet they felt different. Both years, hostage posters lined the sides of the walkway, reminding you of the disparity to bring our people home. The difference this year was that they are still not home. Last year, the posters were mostly barren, with few stickers or objects surrounding them. This year, each poster was completely covered in stickers and surrounded by either stuffed animals, sports team banners, or anything that the hostages love. I could tell from this initial walk alone that Israelis have never been more exhausted and in mourning than they are today.  My parents and brother had been in Jerusalem for around a month when I arrived, and would be there for the next couple of weeks, so I met them at their apartment in Rehavia. This apartment was only a three-minute walk from the Prime Minister’s home on Azza st, meaning almost constant protests due to the fear of Netanyahu’s new budget passing. My dad and I, curious to understand the different perspectives and demands within these protests, frequently walked down the street and used our basic college-level Hebrew skills to read the many protest signs. We were slightly surprised when we observed that, while most people were only protesting to save the hostages, a lot of these protesters were demanding an immediate and permanent ceasefire. Signs read “enough of the war” and occasionally accused Netanyahu of Genocide, similar to the Hamas-brainwashed students on United States college campuses. After asking more Israelis about their perspective on these political nuances, some saw no nuances at all. After speaking to a more religious man, compared to the more secular protest crowd, we realized that many other people view the issue as: one side will die for our hostages and do whatever it takes, and the other will cowardly yell from afar. There are many more perspectives within the country, but I began to realize that the sadness and anger of being without our hostages for now 566 days had begun to create the kind of political polarization that I have only experienced in the U.S.  As I made my way in the other direction through the airport to get on my flight back to LAX, I prayed that the next time I am in that room, which will be only two months from now, I will be walking into an Israel that is healing.

A poem by Maya Kaye Written on 3/17/2024 as a reflection on witnessing sites of the Shoah in Poland. to bear witness is to feel  the weight of unwritten novels piled upon your chest;  and your skin crawl away circumventing the tough of light; and you are there, exposed in the cold achromatic sun, as the ground trembles in your presence  (against all odds). you are a living memorial. you are a testimony of all testimonies that survived time and fire.  you are the name bearer of truths blurred in greyscale and the fate of tomorrow’s hope.  you count your miracles but you do not pencil a silver lining  around the failure of compassion.  you recognize the obligation  to use your voice  and not be passive to the cruel flick of the world’s wrist and the ramblings of the cyclops. you are a lion of steady knees  who knows history is not compromisable, and that your origins are not relative.  you are the opposite of a graveyard  in the way your DNA spirals so marvelously to light your great great grandfather’s eyes  as candles in the window  upon cheeks flushed with  a brilliant bloodline.  you know every cell in your body  is layed down in infinite purpose  brick by brick  milestone by milestone these are the chronicles of life  we were all designed for  and all deserve. you are the embodiment of everything they sought to destroy.  everything the world  excused from the rendering. and everything your ancestors lived for.  they would be so proud to see you standing here  in this house built of one another, held up by Hatikva, grappling at the deeds of humanity, and feeling it all so deeply.  they are here.  and to ensure it is never  again a silent world, Shema still oscillates  off their final breath.  to bear witness is to feel it resonate through you.

Here are some super yummy kosher for Passover recipes! Toffee Chocolate Matzah  Ingredients: 4-5 lightly salted matzos (preferably the Streit's brand - see note below) 2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter 1 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar 1 (12-ounce) bag semi-sweet chocolate chips (I use Ghirardelli) 1 heaping cup chopped pecans (toasted if desired, for maximum flavor - see note below) - optional  ½ teaspoon sea salt flakes or kosher salt Instructions: Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with heavy duty aluminum foil, making sure the foil goes up and over the edges, and top with a sheet of parchment paper. Cover the baking sheet with the matzos, cutting and piecing them together as necessary to fill the entire pan. Make the toffee: Combine butter and brown sugar in a medium saucepan. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly with a whisk, until the mixture comes to a boil. (If it looks like it’s separating, just keep stirring; it will come together.) Once the mixture comes to a boil, continue cooking and stirring for another 3 minutes until foamy and thickened. (Be extra careful -- the toffee will be very hot!) Immediately pour the toffee over the matzos and, using a spatula, spread into an even layer. Put the pan into the oven and bake for 8 to 10 minutes, or until the toffee topping is crackled and bubbling all over. Remove the pan from the oven and place on wire cooling rack on the counter. Immediately scatter the chocolate chips evenly over top. Wait 3 to 5 minutes for the chips to soften, then use an offset spatula to spread the chocolate into an even layer. Sprinkle with the pecans and sea salt. Refrigerate until the chocolate is firm, about 45 minutes. Don't leave it in the fridge too much longer, otherwise it will be hard to cut. Lift the foil overhang to transfer the matzo crack onto a large cutting board. Using a large sharp knife, cut into 2-inch squares. Store in an airtight container in the fridge and serve cold. From onceupachef.com Salted Chocolate Chip Passover Macaroons  Ingredients:  2 extra-large egg whites 3/4 cup sugar  3 cups unsweetened shredded coconut  1/2 teaspoon almond extract 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt 1 cup bittersweet or semisweet chocolate chips  Instructions: Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. In a large bowl, stir all of the ingredients except the chocolate chips until fully mixed. Let the mixture sit for 3 minutes. Stir again. Add the chocolate chips and stir to mix well. Using a 1∕3-cup ice-cream scoop, place eight or nine mounds on each prepared baking sheet. Flatten each macaroon, using clean, damp fingers. Bake for 15 minutes and rotate the pans for even baking. Bake for 6 minutes more for a deep golden toasted color, or 8 minutes more for a darker, crunchy macaroon. Let cool on the parchment. You will have to peel the cookies from the parchment when they are cooled, but they will come off. Transfer to a rack to cool completely. Store in an airtight tin with parchment between the layers. From jamiegeller.com Sweet Matzah Brei Ingredients: 5 matzah sheets 1 cup milk, or more as needed 2 large eggs 2 tablespoons ground cinnamon, or to taste 2 tablespoons white sugar, or to taste 1 teaspoon vanilla extract ½ cup butter Instructions Pass matzah sheets one at a time under cool running water briefly, then crumble into a large bowl. Stir in milk, eggs, cinnamon, sugar, and vanilla to form an evenly moist batter. Add more milk if batter is too dry. Heat butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Scoop a generous spoonful of batter into hot butter and flatten with the back of a spatula. Cook until golden brown, 3 to 5 minutes per side. Repeat with the remaining batter. From allrecipes.com

Judaism and food have a long and complex relationship — we have entire holidays dedicated to abstaining from eating. We have certain foods we can’t eat, and certain foods we must eat. And finally, let's not forget, gefilte fish. Jewish culinary culture is formed by these very laws, making Kashrut (kosher laws) an important facet of our food and our culture. Growing up, I kept no form of kosher, and up to going to school here, I continued this trend. If you were to ask me what my all time favorite food was, I would have enthusiastically said “shrimp!” Having come to college, I formed a deep connection with my Judaism, and in turn, with Kashrut. While I might not be fully orthodox kosher (I will still eat at non-kosher restaurants as a “pescatarian” with a “shellfish allergy”), I do keep a somewhat strict degree of Kashrut. I may be a Jew in IV who keeps kosher, but I am not the only Jew in IV that does, so I wanted to see what others’ experiences with Kashrut in IV and at UCSB were. The first person to whom I posed the question of Kashrut in IV was Nicole Zar. She told me that she grew up keeping kosher, and that this was important to her, so she kept keeping kosher in college. To her, it is totally doable to keep kosher here, despite the many obstacles. She said that she often relies on Chabad for meals (especially on Shabbat). “Although it is not simple,” she told me, “it is a very rewarding part of Judaism that [she] takes pride in and a mitzvah that [she] enjoys keeping!” As Nicole said, UCSB Chabad besides being a keystone to the Jewish community is also one of the best sources of Kosher food in Isla Vista. Miri Klein, the Rebbetzin at UCSB Chabad, is the mastermind behind all that is food at UCSB Chabad and works tirelessly to ensure that Jewish mouths in IV are fed. She told me that the biggest challenge for providing so many people food is that there are many difficulties getting large quantities of food — either the foods need to be bought from a kosher market, or comes in very small quantities. She suggests that anyone who wants to start keeping kosher contact her with any questions, and go to Trader Joes. I was able to get another perspective from Jake Nguyen, another student who keeps Kosher. He said that personally, he has not had to make any concessions with Kashrut when coming here, and that the only downside to a kosher diet is that it is more expensive. All of his friends are also supportive of his diet, making the social aspect of living in IV easy. He also recommends Trader Joes to anybody who wants to keep kosher, as it is the only place nearby with kosher meat. Like for Jake, Trader Joes is also an important part of keeping kosher in IV. Most of the groceries I buy are produce (which don’t require kosher certification), meat, fish, bread (which is more expensive), rice, and pasta. Thankfully (besides produce), Trader Joes has all of this, so if anybody reading this wants to keep kosher, Trader Joes is a great place to start! Another student, Idan Fierstein, shared his experiences with me. He grew up in New York City, where there were many kosher restaurants, and now living here is very difficult in that regard (the closest kosher restaurant is over 70 miles away). As such, he eats out in restaurants (similarly to how I do), but he says that he appreciates kosher meals more than he used to due to the complexities involved with eating kosher in IV. He hopes that we can get a kosher food cart in IV like they have in SLO. Eating out “kosher style” in non-kosher restaurants is something I understand — even if there were kosher restaurants in IV, it would be very hard to stay social especially with how often social plans revolve around a restaurant. A way I have found to bridge the gap between keeping kosher and staying social is having plans revolve around cooking in my apartment — even though my apartment isn’t kashered, everything I use for cooking is kosher (including hard-to-come-by kosher items like meat and balsamic vinegar), and as of right now, that’s kosher enough for me! I do try my best to keep kosher, even if I am not following the laws to the dot of how they are in the book. Others, however, take a more liberal approach to Kashrut. When asked about his favorite kosher dish to cook, one Max Bloom responded: “I’ve gotta go with the cheeseburger.” For those not in the know, cheeseburgers have not been, are not, and will never be kosher, unless you are Max Bloom. More power to him! As you can see, keeping Kosher in Isla Vista is no easy feat — the odds are stacked against you, and unless you live exclusively with others that keep kosher, there will be some difficulties. While not every Jew keeps kosher, those who do feel a strong connection to the food they eat, and are willing to make sacrifices to keep their diet how they wish. Overall, Kashrut in Isla Vista comes in many colors, shapes, and forms, and is an important part to the Jewish community in IV.

As many readers will probably know due to its yearly recounting of the at the Passover table, Passover (פסח) commemorates the biblical story of the Exodus of the Israelites from Egypt, and freedom from slavery, described in the Book of Exodus. The story is believed to have taken place in the 13th century BCE, and follows the journey of the Israelites, led by Moses, from slavery in Egypt toward the freedom of the Promised Land. The retelling of the story during the Passover seder includes plenty of legendary stories to keep one entertained as they wait for the feast (which comes afterward) such as the burning bush, where Moses is called by God to lead his people to freedom, the Ten Plagues: rivers turning to blood, darkness which is touchable, and deaths of first born children (to name a few). Moses’s Parting of the Red Sea is one of the most legendary parts of the story, and has been the source of inspiration for many films including The Ten Commandments (1956) and The Prince of Egypt (1998) . Moses has served as a sort of hero archetype for the fiction, sci-fi and fantasy world, which many beloved fictional characters mirror closely. One blogger drew comparisons between the story of Moses and the Israelites and J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit , noticing similarities between the twelve dwarfs and each tribe of the Israelites, Gandalf and God, and Bilbo and Thorin both representing Moses. Such an ancient and epic story will no doubt have influence on literature, cinema, and entertainment. But far from the fictitious world, the story of the Exodus and the Israelites has had a powerful relationship with social justice movements. The call “Let My People Go” originates in the Exodus, when Moses demands that the Pharaoh release the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. This phrase has since gained more recognition and has become one of the most famous slogans of liberation and resistance.  A British publisher named Victor Gollancz had covered and spread awareness of anti-Semitism, Hitler, and the Nazi’s in Europe early on, publishing books beginning in 1933. However by 1942, Gollancz published a pamphlet titled “Let My People Go: Some practical proposals for dealing with Hitler’s Massacre of the Jews and an appeal to the British Public, ” which highlighted the scale of Hitler’s genocide against the Jews. Gollancz published this because he realized that the world was unaware of the scale of the atrocities committed, and estimated that about 1-2 million Jews had already been killed. His article was an immediate call to action to the world, and he warned, “unless something effective is done, within a very few months these six million Jews will all be dead.” Gollancz’s article impacted public awareness and discourse about the Holocaust, and played a large role in informing the world about the ongoing genocide of the Jews, selling about a quarter million copies in three months. The title once again revived the ancient cry for Jewish liberation - this time from the Hitler and the Nazis. In the 1800s, a Spiritual written by enslaved African Americans in the South called “Go Down, Moses” echoed the biblical cry for freedom: Go down, Moses, way down in Egypt’s land, tell old Pharaoh: To let my people go.  Harriet Tubman used this song and other Spirituals as a code to signal to enslaved African Americans that she was near to help any who wanted to escape slavery via the Underground Railroad. The Exodus was a core inspiration for many African American Spirituals, who saw themselves in the Israelites; captive, but loved by God and destined for freedom. Civil Rights Movement leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. referenced the Exodus story often, and titled one 1965 article “Let My People Go,” which criticized the brutal apartheid system in South Africa, and urged global leaders to cut support for South Africa economically.  Across the world, Soviet Jews wanted to emigrate to Israel or the United States after World War II, but the Soviet Union restricted this heavily, as they believed emigration out of the USSR was a betrayal, and feared Western foreign influence. While antisemitism in the Russian Empire and later Soviet Union was prominent (though fluctuated during some periods), under Stalin it grew worse, and by the 1970s anti-Semitism in the Soviet Union was systematically and socially widespread. Synagogues were closed, Hebrew education was banned, and celebrating Jewish holidays was discouraged or punished. Jews faced discrimination in their daily lives, were banned from certain career paths, and denied university admission. This sparked the Jewish Refusenik Movement. Inspired by the story of the Exodus, activists in the USSR and abroad used the slogan “Let My People Go” to demand that Jews be allowed to emigrate out of the Soviet Union.  From the 2007 documentary “Refusenik by Laura Bialis Natan Sharansky was a human rights activist in the USSR and Refusenik leader who was sent to the Gulag on false accusations of collaborating with the CIA. Sharansky famously celebrated Jewish holidays with what he and his prison mates could scrap up in the Gulag and was supported by his wife, who - living in Israel - advocated tirelessly for his release. After nine years, Sharansky was released in 1986, and reunited with his wife in Israel. Sharansky went on to serve in many positions of the Israeli Ministry, and currently serves as Chairman for the Institute for the Study of Global Antisemitism and Policy. When asked about passover in an interview, Sharansky said: “ Our family celebrates two sidrei Pesach  - one on the fifteenth of Nissan, centering on Yetziat Mitzrayim , leaving Egypt, and one on Bet Adar Alef , the day of my liberation from prison, my Yetziat m’Soviet Union , leaving the Soviet Union.” By the early 1990s, restrictions against immigration of Soviet Jews out of the USSR began to loosen, due to social pressure and Gorbachev’s reforms - particularly the glasnost  which reduced restrictions on emigration.  Today, the ancient cry “Let My People Go” has found its way back to the Promised Land, where banners, speeches, and protests echo the same plea Moses made to the Pharaoh in the Exodus. Jewish communities all across the world have revived the phrase once again, to call for the release of the 59 hostages still in captivity in Gaza - of which only 24 are believed to be alive - abducted from Israel during the October 7, 2023 massacre led by Hamas. It is difficult to ignore the haunting parallels between those still in captivity and the Israelites described in the Exodus, who were held in Egypt - which Gaza borders - and where the story of liberation of the Jews first began. Today the ancient demand “Let My People Go” carries the weight of both the past and the present.  Credit: Tanya Zion-Waldoks, May 11, 2024, Beer Sheva, Israel This Passover - as well as last - Jews across the world set aside a seat at the seder in honor of those in captivity unable to celebrate their freedom. The empty chair is a reminder that the story of Jewish liberation is not ancient history, but has been a recurring historical issue, and is currently a living reality. Special prayers were said at this year's passover seders, asking for the return of the hostages. In the traditional way of ending the Passover seder after the Haggadah has been recited, the concluding words were cried out with even more significance, symbolizing hope for the Jewish people’s return to their ancestral homeland: “Next year in Jerusalem!”

A few months ago, I had the honor of interviewing George Rusznak. George is many things: husband, father, businessman, and he’s also a holocaust survivor. Throughout our interview, three main themes emerged: fear, anger, and hope. In this three-part mini essay series, I plan to explore each of these through the lens of George’s story in contrast with what we as a Jewish community are facing today, continuing in part three with hope.  Hope can be a difficult emotion to muster in any circumstance, especially less than ideal ones such as trying to build a life for yourself post-Holocaust as a Jewish man. It didn’t take long for George to realize that the life he wanted for himself required a new country entirely, so he left his home with one of his cousins to get across the Hungarian border to a refugee camp in hope of making it to America. The two hired a guide, who knew the border guards and patrols to help them get across.  However, by that time the Soviet Army had come to Hungary to shut down the revolution. Many Soviet soldiers had come to patrol the border that had been abandoned by the Hungarian patrol. They did this by spacing tanks at certain distances apart, and then the tank crew would patrol that area. So for people like George and others trying to escape, they had to navigate through the minefield while also avoiding the Soviet patrols. George shared that the first time he tried, they were caught. The Soviet soldiers took them back to the tank, took their papers away, and told George and his cousin to go home.  They went back home and in her usual determined fashion, George’s mother told him that he could not give up. George told his cousin they were going to try again, and a few nights later, they convinced some locals to guide them through and this time they made it.  This story reminded me so much of my first article about George, in which I shared the story of how his mother had to keep sneaking out at night to get George medicine he desperately needed when he was very young. She was captured twice in this process and still found a way to come back with the medicine for him. I feel it’s important to note that George certainly inherited his mother’s perseverance and determination, along with her resilience. George said, “We got into Austria. We were greeted by the Red Cross… and they hooked us up with the Jewish Agencies who were there to help us.” George and his cousin began to settle into life as refugees, hoping eventually to make their way to America. However, America was one of the highest requested locations to be sent to, so they began the long process of waiting their turn. Despite the turbulent journey it took to get to this point, things started to look up for George when he met a beautiful young woman, who would soon become his bride. He shared that “in one of the refugee camps, there were quite a few young people… We didn't have school. We didn't have work. So we played a lot. And we interacted a lot. And love blossomed among some of us. Julie and I found each other irresistible and we became a couple and we had hoped that we would be able to go to some place together. So we became refugees and stayed in Austria for almost a year.” It didn't take long for Julie and George to fall deeply in love, and decide they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. The two soon found out that George got permission to go to the United States, but Julie hadn’t yet. The US Embassy told them that if they were to get married, Julie could go with George to America, so that’s exactly what they did.  However, Julie was in the refugee camp with her mom, who had her mind set on Julie marrying a rich man. George explained that Julie’s “mom was not in favor of her 17-year-old daughter marrying a penniless refugee. Her ambition was to go to Canada or the United States, but at that time Canada was the most likely. Go to Canada and marry a millionaire.” George said that it took some convincing for her mom to get on board, but, “Julie was totally determined that I was the one.” The two set off on their journey to America together and began their new lives in Miami, and eventually Los Angeles. Flash forward decades, and the two have had a very successful life with a beautiful family to show for it. They are still happily married, living in California. Now, the reason I picked this story in particular to represent hope is because I feel like it shows how love and new dreams can blossom in even the darkest of times. The story also just goes to show that you never know when you might stumble upon the love of your life, gain access to a new opportunity, or have the chance to write your own story. Despite the harshest of conditions, George never gave up and he never stopped fighting the life he knew he deserved.  Despite the turbulent times the Jewish community is currently facing, I feel that it is crucial to keep in mind that hope can bloom under any condition if you simply have the courage to hold onto it. Stories like George’s and so many others can serve as a reminder that we must continue to look for the light even in the darkest of places.

As many of us recently found out, Rabbi Maddy will be transitioning over to work as a rabbi at Congregation B’nai B’rith at the start of next year! She has been a gift to the students of UCSB at Hillel, and we are all incredibly grateful for her dedication to our community. I recently had the privilege of sitting down with her to reflect on her time spent at Hillel and discuss her various accomplishments. In regards to one of Rabbi Maddy’s favorite memories, she fondly described getting to lead the Birthright trip in the summer of her first year. She explained that it was her first time being on the trip in the role of an educator instead of a participant and had the opportunity to form many strong connections with students, which have flourished since the trip. Another experience she talked about was getting to lead Shabbat services with students. Rabbi Maddy discussed that at the start of her journey as a rabbi, she had been very excited and focused about things such as programming and the educational aspect of being a rabbi and less about prayer. Her time at Hillel allowed her to guide students through the process of leading a service (whether they had experience or not), and this was incredibly meaningful for her. To build off of this, Rabbi Maddy reflected by stating that she thinks the thing she is most proud of is the relationships that she has built with students. Whether that be through providing mentorship to student leaders or through the expansion of educational opportunities, which allowed her to work with more of the Jewish students here at UCSB, this is something that she looks back on with pride. These are just a few snippets of what Rabbi Maddy has done during her almost three years at the Santa Barbara Hillel. Her work here has been extremely impactful on Jewish students. She is a remarkable human and has helped to create a space where students feel supported and seen. I personally have gotten to led Shabbat services with her on many, many occasions, and her encouragement and excitement for student involvement have truly made me feel more confident in my own leadership abilities, along with making me feel more connected to the Jewish community. Rabbi Maddy will be dearly missed, but her new role at Congregation B’nai B’rith also holds many exciting new opportunities. She emphasized how much she loves the Santa Barbara Hillel community and that this transition to her newer role will help to immerse her in the greater Santa Barbara Jewish community, and thankfully, she still will not be too far away! Rabbi Maddy expressed her excitement to work with whole families and build connections with members of Congregation B’nai B’rith across many ages. She will get to do this through baby namings, b’nai mitzvahs, pastoral care, etc. These are things that she has gotten to do less in her time as a rabbi, and this provides her with a new opportunity to learn and grow and continue to strengthen the Jewish community! We all hold so much love in our hearts for Rabbi Maddy. She is truly so phenomenal and an inspiration to us all. Her time at Hillel has impacted students in a deeply profound and meaningful way, and we are so, so grateful. We love you, Rabbi Maddy!!!!