Gambling on Israel

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Gambling on Israel

The Jerusalem Post, July 4, 2008

Colorful Bollywood movie posters and richly-hued spices in red-lidded jars crowd the small storefront of Om Indian Store – The Taste of India, located on Lewinsky Street at Tel Aviv’s Central Bus Station. It’s a warm Shabbat in early summer and the glass door is propped open. Business is brisk and a steady stream of Indian and Nepali customers passes through the store to purchase the ingredients for dishes that are a link to home.

On their way in and out, they pass a sign that goes, for the most part, unnoticed. Printed on a plain piece of white paper and scotch-taped to the door, it seems unremarkable. But when you stop and look at it, you understand it’s a clear indication of a fragile, struggling community far from home. A sacred Om symbol, flanked by images of Israeli and Indian flags, crowns the sign, which announces the formation of the Om Shakti Singh Indian Community and states that its primary purpose is to help our Indian brothers and sisters in their difficulties here in Israel. The sign also mentions the group’s hope of providing a place to pray for all Indians. It concludes with a request: We would like all our brothers and sisters here in Israel to come forward and register their name in our community.

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“You are a Jew?”

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“You are a Jew?”

The Jerusalem Post, June 13, 2008

The Jerusalem Post- International Edition, July 11, 2008

One wrong turn and I am standing alone in an alley in Marrakech, deep inside the medina, the dusty red wall of Palais de la Bahia on one side of me, a row of closed stores to the other.

“You are looking for the mellah?” a young Arab man asks me.

The swastika I saw spray-painted on a wall in Rabat flashes through my mind, and I hesitate to answer, wondering if it’s wise to admit that I am indeed looking for the mellah, the Jewish quarter.

“No, I’m OK,” I reply, puzzling over the map in the Lonely Planet guidebook. According to the map, the mellah should be right here, I should be standing right next to it. But all I see on the empty street is shuttered doors punctuated by a handful of open stalls, bored men sitting in the entryways.

The young man – dressed in a crisp, white polo shirt, a navy blue Nike baseball cap, navy blue Adidas warm-up pants and clean black Nikes – persists. “You are a Jew?” he asks.

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Meeting God in the middle

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Meeting God in the middle

The Jerusalem Post, June 6, 2008

Say the words “secular yeshiva” to most Israelis and they’ll scratch their heads. A secular yeshiva? What does that mean? The words shouldn’t appear so close to each other in a sentence. Maybe they shouldn’t be in the same sentence at all.

And yet, a secular yeshiva exists.

Adjacent to the Central Bus Station in south Tel Aviv sits a small, nondescript building, unremarkable in this area of bland buildings, save for its warm golden-peachy hue. But this building is truly remarkable… it is Bina’s Secular Yeshiva, the first institution of its kind in Israel.

Bina, which means “wisdom” in Hebrew, is an organization that seeks to breathe new life into Jewish identity at the very time that identity seems to be struggling for air. Bina hopes to bring together the many pieces of Israeli society by using Jewish texts and values as the uniting element. Furthermore, Bina recognizes that many young Israelis are completely alienated from Judaism – making up a large fragment of Israeli society that is deeply fissured from its Jewish roots – and seeks to help repair this rift through education and social action. The Secular Yeshiva, and its location in south Tel Aviv, is a vital component of Bina’s work.

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Interview with Susanna Sonnenberg

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Interview with Susanna Sonnenberg

The Southeast Review Online, Spring 2008

Michiko Kakutani of The New York Times said of Susanna Sonnenberg‘s memoir: “Writing in sharp, crystalline prose, Ms. Sonnenberg… plung(es) readers into a sort of perpetual present tense in which we are made to experience, almost firsthand, the inexplicable and perverse behavior of an impossible woman from the point of view of her aghast, bedazzled—and immensely gifted—daughter.” In this interview, she talks candidly about the difficult process of crafting this startling memoir.

Q: You mention in the preface “(t)his is… subject to the imperfections of memory.” I think that the relationship between writing and memory is a dynamic, fluid process. So, I’m interested in what happened as you wrote this memoir… did your recollection of the events evolve or shift due to the act of committing them to paper?

Art gives you control. That’s part of why we make art, I think, so that we can hold and shape and come to terms with something that has had control over us.

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Breathing room

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Breathing room: review of Susanna Sonnenberg’s memoir Her Last Death

The Jerusalem Post, May 23, 2008

Susanna Sonnenberg’s mother hovers between life and death after a car accident in Barbados. Sonnenberg decides not to sit vigil by her mother’s bedside. In a starkly honest voice she tells the reader, “I’m afraid my mother will die. I’m afraid she won’t.”

The reader is left with a simple question: why? The not-so-simple answer is what follows in this gripping memoir. A New York Times and Los Angeles Times best-seller, Her Last Death is Sonnenberg’s debut, which is almost hard to believe as she handles the difficult subject matter with such aplomb. In crisp prose and using precise and vivid details, she tells the story of the nightmare she has been unable to escape for much of her life – her megalomaniac mother.

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The new Israelis

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The new Israelis: the children in our midst

The Jerusalem Post, May 16, 2008

From the street, nothing distinguishes this particular apartment building from the other equally dreary ones in South Tel Aviv. But as you approach the door of one of the ground-floor apartments you hear them – children’s voices. Yelling, crying, laughing. Snippets of broken English and Hebrew both float through the barred, curtained window.

I ring the doorbell and the door swings open, as if by magic. I look down and see that it has been opened by one of the kids who spends her afternoons there, at this nameless gan (kindergarten) run by a Filipino immigrant and her husband in their small, two-bedroom apartment. The school – really, it’s more of a daycare center – has kids of all ages, from babies who spend the whole day there to school-aged children who spend their mornings in Israeli schools and their afternoons in this tiny apartment near the Central Bus Station. Some days there are as many as 20 children there, others there are as few as 10.

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A history repeated

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A history repeated

The Jerusalem Post, April 25, 2008

In the run-down Shapira neighborhood, near the Central Bus Station in south Tel Aviv, the sounds of a drum circle – comprised of Israelis and African refugees – ring through the air as the sun eases itself down in the sky. Row after row of tables flanked with white tablecloths, matza, non-alcoholic wine, and sprigs of fresh flowers await the guests who trickle in. Freshly-printed haggadot entitled “From Slavery to Freedom: Passover Joint Seder for Israelis and African Refugees in Israel” in Hebrew, English, French, and Arabic will be distributed once the chairs are full. Volunteers from Israel and the Diaspora hurry to make the final preparations for the some 250 refugees who are expected to attend. The seder will begin soon.

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