Julia Duin
The first people I saw when I climbed out of the Kingston subway station on Friday were men in long black coats, wide-brimmed black hats and beards. was in Crown Heights, the Brooklyn borough that is the "Jerusalem" of the Chabad Lubavitch movement, in which the black suits are the norm. Founded 250 years ago in what was White Russia, the movement survived under the leadership of inspired rebbes (teachers), the latest being Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, who died in 1994.
The dilapidated brick building I faced as I exited the subway was his movement's headquarters, 770 Eastern Parkway. The interior was a rabbit warren of dingy hallways with sheets of paper - tacked onto various doors - identifying various agencies.
I stepped into one room claimed by Jewish Educational Media, where Rabbi Elkanah Shmotkin showed me an array of multimedia archives of talks by the rebbe, plus video of almost every encounter he had had with the thousands of fans who had dropped by to see him on Sundays. He would give each a dollar bill, which they in turn were to contribute to charity.
The rebbe founded an amazing missionary corps of rabbinical couples who established beachheads of Jewish culture worldwide. I met such a couple in South Florida while reporting there in the early 1980s, and I've maintained contact with them to this day. Their synagogue turns 30 years old this month.
Other endings are not so happy. When terrorists attacked Jews in Mumbai in November 2008, it was a Chabad center that was targeted. Nine Jews died there.
I had long wanted to see the nerve center of the Chabad movement. A few hours later, the lower floor of 770, as they call it, overflowed with black-coated men saying prayers in preparation for the Jewish holiday of Purim. Up in the balcony in the women's section, a woman held out a card bearing Rabbi Schneerson's likeness, comparing him to the moshiach, the long-promised Jewish messiah.
A Lubavitch friend and I strolled through the snow up Kingston Avenue, "the Champs Elysees of the Lubavitch world," he told me, with delis, a bakery shop, Judaica stories, flower shops and butchers, all kosher. A glossy tourist brochure at a florist portrays a street map of where 43 shuls, or synagogues, can be found in a 77-square-block area.
Most impressive was the interactive Jewish Children's Museum across Kingston Avenue from the world headquarters. When the little ones enter on the third floor, they go through a walkway portraying the seven days of creation.
There were shofar-shaped microphones in front of an exhibit on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new-year holiday during which the shofar (ram's horn) is blown. There's an olive press to create oil for Hanukkah lamps, a chestful of Purim costumes and a kosher supermarket where children can practice selecting kosher products off the shelves.
Then there is a room devoted to observing the Sabbath, with computers instructing children how to construct a Sabbath menu and a talking wine bottle that describes how to say the kiddush blessing over the wine.
Lots of Christian youth groups visit the museum, I was told, because of its Bible-friendly atmosphere. And certainly, with a surrounding neighborhood and culture geared to making faith attractive, Crown Heights leaves the visitor almost wishing he or she could be Jewish.
Showing posts with label Crown Heights. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Crown Heights. Show all posts
Monday, May 24, 2010
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
36 Under 36 2009: Malkie Schwartz, 27
by Sharon Udasin
When Malkie Schwartz first decided to leave behind her native Chabad-Lubavitch community in 2000, she had a strong network of support in secular New York — something that she realized most formers chasidim have difficulties finding. Three years later, she decided to change that by founding Footsteps, a comfortable learning and social environment where people can adjust to their new lives and discuss their decisions. "Unlike a lot of the people who leave, I had a support system and I obviously experienced challenges of my own," she says.
As a teen, Schwartz was able to move in with her secular grandmother, who introduced her to elements of mainstream culture frowned upon in Crown Heights – like television and movies – and encouraged her to enroll in Hunter College in 2001.
At school, Schwartz gradually began to meet other students who had just joined the mainstream community and left behind their ultra-Orthodox families and friends. But there was no comfortable setting where she could introduce all these lone people, who often felt shameful for leaving the fold, and therefore kept their identities secret, according to Schwartz. "It dawned on me that here were amazing people who could be helpful to me and to one another," she says.
So Schwartz decided to bring these people together, by starting a student group that began with five or six people. "The next thing I knew word spread like wildfire," she says. "I’ll never forget the energy in the room," at the early meetings.
Once the group was large enough, Schwartz decided to transform her small group to a citywide support organization called Footsteps, where formerly ultra-Orthodox Jews can socialize and take computerized GED, reading and writing skills courses donated by Instructional Systems Inc. Since founding the program, Schwartz has garnered financial support from the Charles and Lynn Shusterman Foundation, Bikkurim, and another anonymous source. Footsteps is what Schwartz calls a "safe place," where people can watch their first movie and learn with social worker Michael Jenkins how to create a basic resume.
"We have seen people go from a fourth grade reading level to enrolling in graduate school programs and people who, facing a slew of potential consequences, reveal to their friends and families who they are and what they are seeking from life."
Still tethered to the law:
Schwartz will soon be leaving her executive position at Footsteps to focus on her studies at Cardozo Law School, where she is a second year student. Favorite authors: Phillip Roth and Walter Mosley.
When Malkie Schwartz first decided to leave behind her native Chabad-Lubavitch community in 2000, she had a strong network of support in secular New York — something that she realized most formers chasidim have difficulties finding. Three years later, she decided to change that by founding Footsteps, a comfortable learning and social environment where people can adjust to their new lives and discuss their decisions. "Unlike a lot of the people who leave, I had a support system and I obviously experienced challenges of my own," she says.
As a teen, Schwartz was able to move in with her secular grandmother, who introduced her to elements of mainstream culture frowned upon in Crown Heights – like television and movies – and encouraged her to enroll in Hunter College in 2001.
At school, Schwartz gradually began to meet other students who had just joined the mainstream community and left behind their ultra-Orthodox families and friends. But there was no comfortable setting where she could introduce all these lone people, who often felt shameful for leaving the fold, and therefore kept their identities secret, according to Schwartz. "It dawned on me that here were amazing people who could be helpful to me and to one another," she says.
So Schwartz decided to bring these people together, by starting a student group that began with five or six people. "The next thing I knew word spread like wildfire," she says. "I’ll never forget the energy in the room," at the early meetings.
Once the group was large enough, Schwartz decided to transform her small group to a citywide support organization called Footsteps, where formerly ultra-Orthodox Jews can socialize and take computerized GED, reading and writing skills courses donated by Instructional Systems Inc. Since founding the program, Schwartz has garnered financial support from the Charles and Lynn Shusterman Foundation, Bikkurim, and another anonymous source. Footsteps is what Schwartz calls a "safe place," where people can watch their first movie and learn with social worker Michael Jenkins how to create a basic resume.
"We have seen people go from a fourth grade reading level to enrolling in graduate school programs and people who, facing a slew of potential consequences, reveal to their friends and families who they are and what they are seeking from life."
Still tethered to the law:
Schwartz will soon be leaving her executive position at Footsteps to focus on her studies at Cardozo Law School, where she is a second year student. Favorite authors: Phillip Roth and Walter Mosley.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Conference Counters Notions of Hassidic Women
by Arun Venugopal
NEW YORK, NY February 16, 2009 —2,200 attendees from around the world crowded the International Conference of Chabad-Lubavitch Women Emissaries, in Crown Heights.
Chana Weisberg came from Toronto, where she edits www.chabad.org. She says outsiders may have their own notions of Hassidic women, but that many of those in attendance are essentially CEO's.
WEISBERG: So they're running large corporations, and inspiring people and helping people and teaching people and educating people. And that's a tremendous part of what these conferences are about.
REPORTER: The conference includes a commemoration of the work of Rabbi Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg, who were killed during the Mumbai attacks.
NEW YORK, NY February 16, 2009 —2,200 attendees from around the world crowded the International Conference of Chabad-Lubavitch Women Emissaries, in Crown Heights.
Chana Weisberg came from Toronto, where she edits www.chabad.org. She says outsiders may have their own notions of Hassidic women, but that many of those in attendance are essentially CEO's.
WEISBERG: So they're running large corporations, and inspiring people and helping people and teaching people and educating people. And that's a tremendous part of what these conferences are about.
REPORTER: The conference includes a commemoration of the work of Rabbi Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg, who were killed during the Mumbai attacks.
Friday, December 26, 2008
From the Archives: NYPD CHOSEN GUNS
Didja hear the one about the cop who walked into a doughnut shop and asked for a bagel and a shmear?
You will soon. The NYPD is adding 10 Orthodox Jews, including one woman, to their ranks. That's the largest Orthodox contingent ever in the department's latest cadet class.
When Ari Husarsky told his parents he wanted to be a cop, they were all verklempt.
"My mom flipped," the 24-year-old recalled as he stood outside the Police Academy on East 20th Street near Gramercy Park.
When the shock wore off and he had promised he would still keep kosher on meal breaks and, yes, in doughnut shops, his parents gave him their blessing.
"My mother was also against it for the obvious reasons," added Brighton Beach resident Max Silva, 28, a former caterer at Meisner's in Brooklyn. He said they thought it was just too dangerous.
"It was just one of those childhood dreams I never grew out of. Everybody was against it because nobody thinks of Jewish people as police officers," he said.
"I always wanted to be a cop, but my wife, Sharona, was against it," Silva added. "But I convinced her. It took her two years. She thinks it's a dangerous job. I was sick of my other job because there was no room to grow. I wanted a future."
The Police Department has welcomed the new recruits, who are excused from working after dusk on Fridays and on Saturdays and Jewish holidays.
"This class is going to be the ice breaker," cadet Shmuel Tenenbaum said proudly. "The next class is going to have 30 or 40."
He said he'd prefer not to work in an Orthodox area, especially his own Brooklyn neighborhood of Crown Heights, where his dad owns a matzo factory.
"If you give a Jewish guy a ticket, it's very hard," he said, noting that he might be pressured to give preferential treatment. "And then people talk. They could make your life miserable."
Tenenbaum is fulfilling his childhood dream of becoming one of New York's Finest. He finally took the plunge after serving as an auxiliary cop for the Highway 2 unit.
And he doesn't think that wearing a yarmulke under his police cap will mean he's different from the others. "I just feel like a regular person. I don't stop and think my yarmulke is on."
Luckily, he's now got plenty of support from the Jewish community, especially his rabbi.
Single and 25, David Attali is hoping that being a cop will make him a babe magnet, or at least help him find a wife. "I think girls actually like it. Because how many Jewish cops are there?" he said.
But he worries that the low starting salary will make it tough keeping kosher.
"A burger at McDonald's costs two or three bucks, but at a kosher place it's $8," he lamented.
The Orthodox recruits graduate from the Police Academy in December along with 1,218 classmates.
Police recruit Jesse Cohen, 34, said his parents were convinced he was meshugana, but eventually they relented. "It's what's in your heart," he said.
Born in Uzbekistan, Amnum Pirov, 32, was a barber in Queens. He believes he's the first Bukharian Jewish officer. He's married, has three kids, attends yeshiva, and despite the dangers intrinsic to being a cop, wife Elana is proud of his new career.
While working as a manager at a kosher grocery store on Long Island, Chaim Goldgrab, 25, would often daydream about a new career. Since he couldn't decide whether he wanted to be a mortician or a cop, he decided to do both, and is also training as a funeral director.
His preference is saving lives rather than dealing with the dead. "I never fit the mold," he said.
Eleena Zazon, 23, who lives in suburban Monsey, is one of a handful of female Orthodox Jews on the force. She's looking forward to making her mark on the shooting range: "I've always been very adventurous and looking for excitement."
She said her friends "are a bit surprised" by her chutzpah and she's bucking strict tradition by wearing pants instead of long dresses, an Orthodox symbol of modesty. But her gear is manufactured specifically for women - so it's not in violation of Orthodox law.
The kosher cops have had to deal with a few wardrobe issues during training.
"Even today in the gym my yarmulke fell off when I was doing push-ups," said Eliezer Zinstein, 24, who signed up after working as a Talmud teacher for five years in Canarsie, Brooklyn.
The by-the-book cadet said that only once he had to seek a rabbinical resolution.
"I used to wear wool tzizit," he said, referring to the tassels worn by observant Jews at the corners of an undershirt-like garment.
His wise rabbi told him that he could wear lighter cotton during strenuous workouts. The tassels also are tucked into his pants.
Kalman Witriol, 23, was destined for the job. He's following in the footsteps of his brother, Joel Witriol, who was featured on The Post's front page in 2006 when he became the NYPD's first Hasidic cop.
"The NYPD is the most diverse city agency and the most diverse police department in America," said Police Commissioner Ray Kelly. "It's one of our great strengths."
rblau@nypost.com
You will soon. The NYPD is adding 10 Orthodox Jews, including one woman, to their ranks. That's the largest Orthodox contingent ever in the department's latest cadet class.
When Ari Husarsky told his parents he wanted to be a cop, they were all verklempt.
"My mom flipped," the 24-year-old recalled as he stood outside the Police Academy on East 20th Street near Gramercy Park.
When the shock wore off and he had promised he would still keep kosher on meal breaks and, yes, in doughnut shops, his parents gave him their blessing.
"My mother was also against it for the obvious reasons," added Brighton Beach resident Max Silva, 28, a former caterer at Meisner's in Brooklyn. He said they thought it was just too dangerous.
"It was just one of those childhood dreams I never grew out of. Everybody was against it because nobody thinks of Jewish people as police officers," he said.
"I always wanted to be a cop, but my wife, Sharona, was against it," Silva added. "But I convinced her. It took her two years. She thinks it's a dangerous job. I was sick of my other job because there was no room to grow. I wanted a future."
The Police Department has welcomed the new recruits, who are excused from working after dusk on Fridays and on Saturdays and Jewish holidays.
"This class is going to be the ice breaker," cadet Shmuel Tenenbaum said proudly. "The next class is going to have 30 or 40."
He said he'd prefer not to work in an Orthodox area, especially his own Brooklyn neighborhood of Crown Heights, where his dad owns a matzo factory.
"If you give a Jewish guy a ticket, it's very hard," he said, noting that he might be pressured to give preferential treatment. "And then people talk. They could make your life miserable."
Tenenbaum is fulfilling his childhood dream of becoming one of New York's Finest. He finally took the plunge after serving as an auxiliary cop for the Highway 2 unit.
And he doesn't think that wearing a yarmulke under his police cap will mean he's different from the others. "I just feel like a regular person. I don't stop and think my yarmulke is on."
Luckily, he's now got plenty of support from the Jewish community, especially his rabbi.
Single and 25, David Attali is hoping that being a cop will make him a babe magnet, or at least help him find a wife. "I think girls actually like it. Because how many Jewish cops are there?" he said.
But he worries that the low starting salary will make it tough keeping kosher.
"A burger at McDonald's costs two or three bucks, but at a kosher place it's $8," he lamented.
The Orthodox recruits graduate from the Police Academy in December along with 1,218 classmates.
Police recruit Jesse Cohen, 34, said his parents were convinced he was meshugana, but eventually they relented. "It's what's in your heart," he said.
Born in Uzbekistan, Amnum Pirov, 32, was a barber in Queens. He believes he's the first Bukharian Jewish officer. He's married, has three kids, attends yeshiva, and despite the dangers intrinsic to being a cop, wife Elana is proud of his new career.
While working as a manager at a kosher grocery store on Long Island, Chaim Goldgrab, 25, would often daydream about a new career. Since he couldn't decide whether he wanted to be a mortician or a cop, he decided to do both, and is also training as a funeral director.
His preference is saving lives rather than dealing with the dead. "I never fit the mold," he said.
Eleena Zazon, 23, who lives in suburban Monsey, is one of a handful of female Orthodox Jews on the force. She's looking forward to making her mark on the shooting range: "I've always been very adventurous and looking for excitement."
She said her friends "are a bit surprised" by her chutzpah and she's bucking strict tradition by wearing pants instead of long dresses, an Orthodox symbol of modesty. But her gear is manufactured specifically for women - so it's not in violation of Orthodox law.
The kosher cops have had to deal with a few wardrobe issues during training.
"Even today in the gym my yarmulke fell off when I was doing push-ups," said Eliezer Zinstein, 24, who signed up after working as a Talmud teacher for five years in Canarsie, Brooklyn.
The by-the-book cadet said that only once he had to seek a rabbinical resolution.
"I used to wear wool tzizit," he said, referring to the tassels worn by observant Jews at the corners of an undershirt-like garment.
His wise rabbi told him that he could wear lighter cotton during strenuous workouts. The tassels also are tucked into his pants.
Kalman Witriol, 23, was destined for the job. He's following in the footsteps of his brother, Joel Witriol, who was featured on The Post's front page in 2006 when he became the NYPD's first Hasidic cop.
"The NYPD is the most diverse city agency and the most diverse police department in America," said Police Commissioner Ray Kelly. "It's one of our great strengths."
rblau@nypost.com
What Not to Wear
Some in Crown Heights detect modesty crisis
By Marissa Brostoff
An outsider visiting Crown Heights might be forgiven for thinking that the women in the ultra-Orthodox neighborhood represent the height of modesty. But some in the Brooklyn community, where the Chabad-Lubavitch movement is based, are concerned that modesty standards are slipping, and have launched a campaign to counter the trend.
Thus far, the effort— organized by a woman named Sheyna Goldin, with the approval of Chabad’s women’s organization, N’Shei Chabad—has involved putting up 500 posters encouraging adherence to modesty laws. But not everyone in the organization agrees with Goldin’s approach, and a frisson of disagreement has broken out over it—and whether the declining standards are even anything new.
“It’s Not Just a Good Idea, IT’S THE LAW!” proclaim the posters, which appeared recently on Kingston Avenue and other neighborhood thoroughfares. The fliers go on to list the laws of tznius, or modesty (modest dress must begin at age three; shirts must cover collarbones; skirts must cover knees) and their talmudic sources. Fine print at the bottom explains the spiritual rewards for modest dress and the consequences for disregarding it.
Even in Crown Heights, such public pronouncements of religious law are unusual—which was the point, Goldin argued.
“Everything is out in the street now; it’s kind of corresponding to the times,” she said, in an interview with Nextbook. “In the shuls, not everyone would see it. It’s more emphatic, like we really mean business.”
“You have to set the standard, not lower yourself to it,” echoed Esther Rochel Spielman, who coordinates subscriptions for N’Shei Chabad’s newsletter. Spielman said that she was seeing more short or slit skirts and tight clothing on young women in the community.
“There is a decline in the men also, the teenagers,” she added. “A lot of them will think it’s cool to go without tsisis [ritual fringes].”
But even some who agree that modesty standards are slipping find Goldin’s approach too aggressive.
“Modesty standards have been declining for decades,” said Bronya Shaffer, a mother of 10 who teaches and lectures in the community on Jewish family life. Shaffer, who was sitting in her dining room surrounded by hundreds of religious books, picked up a copy of the New York Times Magazine that was lying on the table beside a copy of a Chabad magazine and gestured disapprovingly at a risqué Chanel advertisement on the back cover. But the posters also made her wince.
“The medium itself is antithetical to the very essence of modesty," she said of the posters. "It’s not the Chabad way. I cringe at the specter of kids, young boys and girls, reading in huge letters, in bold technicolor, about uncovered legs and necklines and tight clothing."
Goldin said that the posters are directed toward both Lubavitchers who live in the neighborhood and visitors to the community.
“The darkness in the world is very great and influences everybody,” Goldin said. “The posters are a fortification and a reminder that this is really not just a nice thing, but a total law from the Torah.”
Sara Labkowski, the dean of a school for young women in the process of becoming more religious, said that because Crown Heights, unlike more isolated ultra-Orthodox enclaves, is “a very open community” located in the heart of Brooklyn, the posters would help to remind young Lubavitchers in the neighborhood of the modesty laws. She helped to distribute flyer-sized versions of the poster at a vigil for the Chabad emissaries killed in the recent terrorist attack on Mumbai.
For Spielman, the decline in modesty is just another sign of what she believes is directly on the horizon.
“I guess we’re getting very close to the moshiach,” she said, using the Hebrew word for messiah. “The satan [devil] tries to attack in any ways he could.”
By Marissa Brostoff
An outsider visiting Crown Heights might be forgiven for thinking that the women in the ultra-Orthodox neighborhood represent the height of modesty. But some in the Brooklyn community, where the Chabad-Lubavitch movement is based, are concerned that modesty standards are slipping, and have launched a campaign to counter the trend.
Thus far, the effort— organized by a woman named Sheyna Goldin, with the approval of Chabad’s women’s organization, N’Shei Chabad—has involved putting up 500 posters encouraging adherence to modesty laws. But not everyone in the organization agrees with Goldin’s approach, and a frisson of disagreement has broken out over it—and whether the declining standards are even anything new.
“It’s Not Just a Good Idea, IT’S THE LAW!” proclaim the posters, which appeared recently on Kingston Avenue and other neighborhood thoroughfares. The fliers go on to list the laws of tznius, or modesty (modest dress must begin at age three; shirts must cover collarbones; skirts must cover knees) and their talmudic sources. Fine print at the bottom explains the spiritual rewards for modest dress and the consequences for disregarding it.
Even in Crown Heights, such public pronouncements of religious law are unusual—which was the point, Goldin argued.
“Everything is out in the street now; it’s kind of corresponding to the times,” she said, in an interview with Nextbook. “In the shuls, not everyone would see it. It’s more emphatic, like we really mean business.”
“You have to set the standard, not lower yourself to it,” echoed Esther Rochel Spielman, who coordinates subscriptions for N’Shei Chabad’s newsletter. Spielman said that she was seeing more short or slit skirts and tight clothing on young women in the community.
“There is a decline in the men also, the teenagers,” she added. “A lot of them will think it’s cool to go without tsisis [ritual fringes].”
But even some who agree that modesty standards are slipping find Goldin’s approach too aggressive.
“Modesty standards have been declining for decades,” said Bronya Shaffer, a mother of 10 who teaches and lectures in the community on Jewish family life. Shaffer, who was sitting in her dining room surrounded by hundreds of religious books, picked up a copy of the New York Times Magazine that was lying on the table beside a copy of a Chabad magazine and gestured disapprovingly at a risqué Chanel advertisement on the back cover. But the posters also made her wince.
“The medium itself is antithetical to the very essence of modesty," she said of the posters. "It’s not the Chabad way. I cringe at the specter of kids, young boys and girls, reading in huge letters, in bold technicolor, about uncovered legs and necklines and tight clothing."
Goldin said that the posters are directed toward both Lubavitchers who live in the neighborhood and visitors to the community.
“The darkness in the world is very great and influences everybody,” Goldin said. “The posters are a fortification and a reminder that this is really not just a nice thing, but a total law from the Torah.”
Sara Labkowski, the dean of a school for young women in the process of becoming more religious, said that because Crown Heights, unlike more isolated ultra-Orthodox enclaves, is “a very open community” located in the heart of Brooklyn, the posters would help to remind young Lubavitchers in the neighborhood of the modesty laws. She helped to distribute flyer-sized versions of the poster at a vigil for the Chabad emissaries killed in the recent terrorist attack on Mumbai.
For Spielman, the decline in modesty is just another sign of what she believes is directly on the horizon.
“I guess we’re getting very close to the moshiach,” she said, using the Hebrew word for messiah. “The satan [devil] tries to attack in any ways he could.”
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Texas A&M Chabad takes part in NYC Shabbat weekend
On the first weekend of November, the International Student Shabbaton was held in New York City, where Texas A&M students, together with the directors of the Chabad Jewish Student Center, Rabbi Yossi and Manya Lazaroff, joined over 750 other students from around the world for a weekend of inspiration and student leadership.
The weekend began with a student leadership conference where selected students from different universities gathered in Manhattan for two days of intensive student leadership training. “We met many business philanthropists and marketing executives who really inspired us with the work they do and shared many ideas on how we can be good leaders on our campus,” explained Ryan Coane, the sophomore treasurer of the Chabad Jewish Student Group at Texas A&M and the director of finance of Student Government–Diversity at Texas A&M. “In addition, we got to meet other student leaders from other Chabads on Campus to share and exchange ideas.” The president of the Chabad Jewish Student Group, Naomi Heller, a sophomore majoring in animal science at Texas A&M, also attended the leadership conference. She said, “It is amazing to see so many Jewish guys and girls who want to help increase Jewish life on their campus!”
The Chabad Jewish Student Center at Texas A&M opened in July 2007. Since that beginning in the home of the Lazaroffs, Chabad at Texas A&M now owns, and operates out of, a 4,000-square-foot facility with plans to expand!
For Shabbat, the students converged into the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn at the world headquarters of Chabad Lubavitch and the Chabad on Campus International Foundation for a Shabbat Experience. With inspirational speakers and lively atmosphere throughout the weekend, the Shabbat experience was enhanced with the multitude of students joining in. “There was so much energy, I hope to carry some of that back with me to Texas A&M!” exclaimed Chad Davis, a senior Corps of Cadets member at Texas A&M.
Saturday night, students were treated with a live concert from YOOD, a band from Israel that is currently touring the U.S.A. A surprise guest, critically-lauded rock troubadour and Emmy-nominated film and television composer, Peter Himmelman, joined the evening.
“I loved the weekend with all the singing, dancing and touring New York City and, best of all, meeting so many Jews from all over the world. We are all family at Chabad!” Davis exclaimed.
The Chabad Jewish Center at Texas A&M is independently funded by friends and families. For more information or to make a donation, contact Rabbi Yossi and Manya Lazaroff at 979-220-5020 or on the Web at www.jewishaggies.com.
The weekend began with a student leadership conference where selected students from different universities gathered in Manhattan for two days of intensive student leadership training. “We met many business philanthropists and marketing executives who really inspired us with the work they do and shared many ideas on how we can be good leaders on our campus,” explained Ryan Coane, the sophomore treasurer of the Chabad Jewish Student Group at Texas A&M and the director of finance of Student Government–Diversity at Texas A&M. “In addition, we got to meet other student leaders from other Chabads on Campus to share and exchange ideas.” The president of the Chabad Jewish Student Group, Naomi Heller, a sophomore majoring in animal science at Texas A&M, also attended the leadership conference. She said, “It is amazing to see so many Jewish guys and girls who want to help increase Jewish life on their campus!”
The Chabad Jewish Student Center at Texas A&M opened in July 2007. Since that beginning in the home of the Lazaroffs, Chabad at Texas A&M now owns, and operates out of, a 4,000-square-foot facility with plans to expand!
For Shabbat, the students converged into the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn at the world headquarters of Chabad Lubavitch and the Chabad on Campus International Foundation for a Shabbat Experience. With inspirational speakers and lively atmosphere throughout the weekend, the Shabbat experience was enhanced with the multitude of students joining in. “There was so much energy, I hope to carry some of that back with me to Texas A&M!” exclaimed Chad Davis, a senior Corps of Cadets member at Texas A&M.
Saturday night, students were treated with a live concert from YOOD, a band from Israel that is currently touring the U.S.A. A surprise guest, critically-lauded rock troubadour and Emmy-nominated film and television composer, Peter Himmelman, joined the evening.
“I loved the weekend with all the singing, dancing and touring New York City and, best of all, meeting so many Jews from all over the world. We are all family at Chabad!” Davis exclaimed.
The Chabad Jewish Center at Texas A&M is independently funded by friends and families. For more information or to make a donation, contact Rabbi Yossi and Manya Lazaroff at 979-220-5020 or on the Web at www.jewishaggies.com.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Election enclave
Two days before the election, the Hasidic Jewish community in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, is strongly leaning towards John McCain, in contrast with predominantly Democratic New York City. Many members of the Lubavitch community expressed concerns about foreign policy, school vouchers and social conservatism. Barack Obama's perceived lack of experience and weakness in the war on terror have contributed to the community's overwhelming support for McCain. However, some voters stated ambivalence or indifference toward the presidential race.
2 Comments to "Election enclave"
1. November 05, 2008 9:42:23 PM Could not be happier that this group may not be happy with what the majority of 133,000,000 voters wants. They have had 8 years of George Bush in there pockets and I hope they will not be as strong a lobby with our new president.
— ralph barquin, NYC
2. November 06, 2008 3:54:11 PM I'm sure you're overjoyed that instead of well intentioned Rabbis having influence, Bill Ayers and Rashid Khalidi will be the lobby.
— Daniel, Brooklyn
2 Comments to "Election enclave"
1. November 05, 2008 9:42:23 PM Could not be happier that this group may not be happy with what the majority of 133,000,000 voters wants. They have had 8 years of George Bush in there pockets and I hope they will not be as strong a lobby with our new president.
— ralph barquin, NYC
2. November 06, 2008 3:54:11 PM I'm sure you're overjoyed that instead of well intentioned Rabbis having influence, Bill Ayers and Rashid Khalidi will be the lobby.
— Daniel, Brooklyn
Monday, June 16, 2008
A Young Man From Omaha, Who May Perfectly Represent Brooklyn
Moments before Yosef Abrahamson, 16, accepted an award for the essay he’d written in a competition sponsored by the Police Athletic League, an officer approached him to complain about his fedora. The hat, an essential wardrobe item for Hasidic men, was gaudy, the policeman told him, and what’s with all these kids today and their nose rings and their attitudes. A second police officer, overhearing the conversation, came over to steer away the first one, who reappeared a few minutes later to apologize. He’d never seen a Hasidic Jew, he told Yosef.
A policeman working in New York who’d never seen a Hasidic Jew? What he probably meant, Yosef theorized, was “that he’d never seen a Hasidic Jew of color. I think he was probably making some assumptions there.”
Thanks to his Egyptian father, who left the family when Yosef was young, and his maternal grandfather, who was of African descent by way of Panama, Yosef looks African-American (though his family prefers to describe themselves as Jews of color, believing their culture to be exclusively Jewish). Yosef moved to Crown Heights only a year ago, until then having lived in Omaha, where his mother’s maternal family, German Jewish merchants, had settled several generations earlier.
If Yosef, who attends the yeshiva Darchai Menachem in Crown Heights, ever finds himself writing a college application essay, his advisers would have a hard time choosing which of his compelling story lines would most dazzle those college admissions officers: The story of growing up in the only Hasidic family in Omaha? Or the story of being the only student of color in his yeshiva? Or maybe the story of being the only Hasidic person of color in Omaha’s competitive ice skating circuit?
Despite the friendships he made while ice skating, a hobby his mother encouraged to round him out, life in Omaha was “a bit lonely,” Yosef admitted last week while eating a Kosher hamburger on Albany Avenue with his mother and his older sister, Sarah, 22. His mother, Dinah, who joined the Chabad-Lubavitch movement after seeing videos of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson several years ago, home-schooled both of her children.
Yosef was obviously sheltered from too much scrutiny from the outside world, but the surprising combination of his race and his particular form of religious observance fazed no one in Omaha — for all the average person knew in Omaha, all Hasidic Jews were of African descent, his mother said. When friends from Nebraska first visited New York, they were fascinated to meet some white Hasids for the first time.
It was easier for Ms. Abrahamson to raise her children in Omaha than it would have been in Crown Heights, she said.
“People are laid-back in Omaha,” she said. “It’s different there.”
Omaha is not, for example, a place where race relations between Jews and blacks have exploded into days of riots, as they did in Crown Heights in 1991; nor have the police in Omaha ever deemed it necessary to set up mobile command centers to monitor simmering tensions between Jews and blacks, as the New York police did last month in the Brooklyn neighborhood in response to two unrelated physical altercations.
A young man like Yosef could easily start to feel like a powerful symbol, rather than just a kid, the human embodiment of that famously controversial Art Spiegelman New Yorker cover depicting a Hasidic man embracing an African-American woman.
But life in Crown Heights is somehow less complicated than that for Yosef, a tall, athletic young man who seems to have internalized Omaha’s easygoing ways (and its broad Midwestern accent). Beyond the misunderstanding at the awards ceremony — of which Yosef said, “It was a bit strange, but really, I understand” — he says he has felt comfortable in Crown Heights from the moment he came there to advance his education.
Through summer camps and occasional trips to New York, the Abrahamsons were already familiar to the Jewish community in Crown Heights when he arrived last fall (the community has only a handful of other black families). The response from the African-American community has been, if anything, amazement. “Now I’ve seen everything,” an African-American man said three or four times as he passed Yosef and his mother and his sister walking home from synagogue.
Some black neighbors recently asked Ms. Abrahamson questions about the meaning of some Lubavitch fliers they had received in the mail. The family sensed that the neighbors had long been harboring those questions but had felt a certain comfort level with the Abrahamsons because of their shared skin color.
If there have been resentful or disapproving responses from either side, they have apparently gone as far over Yosef’s head as the references his ice skating friends used to make to movies or television shows he’d never seen.
The ease with which both communities have received Yosef seems a little unlikely, but appropriate in the year of what some call the country’s first post-racial presidential campaign. Except that the Abrahamsons consider themselves “post-racial, for real,” said Ms. Abrahamson, a Republican delegate in Nebraska who is not a fan of Mr. Obama. To the contrary, the whole family strongly supports John McCain, and Yosef will be a page at the Republican National Convention in the Twin Cities in September.
One more item to add to that list of possible essay topics.
E-mail: susan.dominus
@nytimes.com
A policeman working in New York who’d never seen a Hasidic Jew? What he probably meant, Yosef theorized, was “that he’d never seen a Hasidic Jew of color. I think he was probably making some assumptions there.”
Thanks to his Egyptian father, who left the family when Yosef was young, and his maternal grandfather, who was of African descent by way of Panama, Yosef looks African-American (though his family prefers to describe themselves as Jews of color, believing their culture to be exclusively Jewish). Yosef moved to Crown Heights only a year ago, until then having lived in Omaha, where his mother’s maternal family, German Jewish merchants, had settled several generations earlier.
If Yosef, who attends the yeshiva Darchai Menachem in Crown Heights, ever finds himself writing a college application essay, his advisers would have a hard time choosing which of his compelling story lines would most dazzle those college admissions officers: The story of growing up in the only Hasidic family in Omaha? Or the story of being the only student of color in his yeshiva? Or maybe the story of being the only Hasidic person of color in Omaha’s competitive ice skating circuit?
Despite the friendships he made while ice skating, a hobby his mother encouraged to round him out, life in Omaha was “a bit lonely,” Yosef admitted last week while eating a Kosher hamburger on Albany Avenue with his mother and his older sister, Sarah, 22. His mother, Dinah, who joined the Chabad-Lubavitch movement after seeing videos of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson several years ago, home-schooled both of her children.
Yosef was obviously sheltered from too much scrutiny from the outside world, but the surprising combination of his race and his particular form of religious observance fazed no one in Omaha — for all the average person knew in Omaha, all Hasidic Jews were of African descent, his mother said. When friends from Nebraska first visited New York, they were fascinated to meet some white Hasids for the first time.
It was easier for Ms. Abrahamson to raise her children in Omaha than it would have been in Crown Heights, she said.
“People are laid-back in Omaha,” she said. “It’s different there.”
Omaha is not, for example, a place where race relations between Jews and blacks have exploded into days of riots, as they did in Crown Heights in 1991; nor have the police in Omaha ever deemed it necessary to set up mobile command centers to monitor simmering tensions between Jews and blacks, as the New York police did last month in the Brooklyn neighborhood in response to two unrelated physical altercations.
A young man like Yosef could easily start to feel like a powerful symbol, rather than just a kid, the human embodiment of that famously controversial Art Spiegelman New Yorker cover depicting a Hasidic man embracing an African-American woman.
But life in Crown Heights is somehow less complicated than that for Yosef, a tall, athletic young man who seems to have internalized Omaha’s easygoing ways (and its broad Midwestern accent). Beyond the misunderstanding at the awards ceremony — of which Yosef said, “It was a bit strange, but really, I understand” — he says he has felt comfortable in Crown Heights from the moment he came there to advance his education.
Through summer camps and occasional trips to New York, the Abrahamsons were already familiar to the Jewish community in Crown Heights when he arrived last fall (the community has only a handful of other black families). The response from the African-American community has been, if anything, amazement. “Now I’ve seen everything,” an African-American man said three or four times as he passed Yosef and his mother and his sister walking home from synagogue.
Some black neighbors recently asked Ms. Abrahamson questions about the meaning of some Lubavitch fliers they had received in the mail. The family sensed that the neighbors had long been harboring those questions but had felt a certain comfort level with the Abrahamsons because of their shared skin color.
If there have been resentful or disapproving responses from either side, they have apparently gone as far over Yosef’s head as the references his ice skating friends used to make to movies or television shows he’d never seen.
The ease with which both communities have received Yosef seems a little unlikely, but appropriate in the year of what some call the country’s first post-racial presidential campaign. Except that the Abrahamsons consider themselves “post-racial, for real,” said Ms. Abrahamson, a Republican delegate in Nebraska who is not a fan of Mr. Obama. To the contrary, the whole family strongly supports John McCain, and Yosef will be a page at the Republican National Convention in the Twin Cities in September.
One more item to add to that list of possible essay topics.
E-mail: susan.dominus
@nytimes.com
Friday, May 23, 2008
Black, Jewish Crown Heights Leaders Seek Unity
Upswing In Recent Violence Has Communities At Odds
Fears Of Riots Similar To 1991 Grip Residents
NEW YORK (CBS) ;
Police are mobilizing a massive presence in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn in the wake of increased tension between African American and Jewish communities.
Leaders from both communities have come together recently to preach cooperation among residents of the neighborhood where African
Americans and Hassidic Jews live side by side. But recent violence has shown that religion and race don't always mix.
"I definitely feel [like there's unrest] because I see it everyday. I'm around here a lot and that's what I'm hearing," said Crown Heights resident Anthony Rios.
Another resident, Joe Morgenstein, agreed, saying he hears "a lot of racial slurs all day" in the community.
Since 1991, when riots broke out after a 7-year-old black boy was killed by a Hassidic driver, and then a Jewish man was murdered by a group of African-Americans, Crown Heights has been hurt off-and-on by periodic tension.
In the past month, 20-year-old Andrew Charles, who is black, was beaten up, and the suspect is Jewish.
Then last week, 16-year-old Alon Sherman, who is Jewish, had his jaw broken while being allegedly robbed by two black teens. The attackers were arrested Thursday. Namor Clarke,17, and Basean Parker, 14, will be charged as adults for last Friday's assault on Sherman, officials said.
Inside a Jewish museum dedicated to tolerance and understanding, black and religious
leaders pleaded for the public to write a new history of race and religious relations.
"We are one standing together yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Forever," said Jewish
Assemblyman Dov Hikind (D-Brooklyn).
Added Councilman Mathieu Eugene (D-Dist. 40): "We may have arrived on different ships, but now we are all in the same boat."
It's a boat some don't want to see sink under the weight of ignorance and intolerance.
"It's a bad thing. I hope it doesn't escalate," one black resident told CBS 2. And if it does, there will be a quick response. "It's scary what's been going on, but I'm happy police are taking it seriously," said Chana Levine, a Jewish Crown Heights resident. Police admit their presence there is a temporary fix until tensions drop, but some fear once police leave, what's happened here will be repeated.
(© MMVIII, CBS Broadcasting Inc. All Rights Reserved.)
Fears Of Riots Similar To 1991 Grip Residents
NEW YORK (CBS) ;
Police are mobilizing a massive presence in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn in the wake of increased tension between African American and Jewish communities.
Leaders from both communities have come together recently to preach cooperation among residents of the neighborhood where African
Americans and Hassidic Jews live side by side. But recent violence has shown that religion and race don't always mix.
"I definitely feel [like there's unrest] because I see it everyday. I'm around here a lot and that's what I'm hearing," said Crown Heights resident Anthony Rios.
Another resident, Joe Morgenstein, agreed, saying he hears "a lot of racial slurs all day" in the community.
Since 1991, when riots broke out after a 7-year-old black boy was killed by a Hassidic driver, and then a Jewish man was murdered by a group of African-Americans, Crown Heights has been hurt off-and-on by periodic tension.
In the past month, 20-year-old Andrew Charles, who is black, was beaten up, and the suspect is Jewish.
Then last week, 16-year-old Alon Sherman, who is Jewish, had his jaw broken while being allegedly robbed by two black teens. The attackers were arrested Thursday. Namor Clarke,17, and Basean Parker, 14, will be charged as adults for last Friday's assault on Sherman, officials said.
Inside a Jewish museum dedicated to tolerance and understanding, black and religious
leaders pleaded for the public to write a new history of race and religious relations.
"We are one standing together yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Forever," said Jewish
Assemblyman Dov Hikind (D-Brooklyn).
Added Councilman Mathieu Eugene (D-Dist. 40): "We may have arrived on different ships, but now we are all in the same boat."
It's a boat some don't want to see sink under the weight of ignorance and intolerance.
"It's a bad thing. I hope it doesn't escalate," one black resident told CBS 2. And if it does, there will be a quick response. "It's scary what's been going on, but I'm happy police are taking it seriously," said Chana Levine, a Jewish Crown Heights resident. Police admit their presence there is a temporary fix until tensions drop, but some fear once police leave, what's happened here will be repeated.
(© MMVIII, CBS Broadcasting Inc. All Rights Reserved.)
Thursday, October 25, 2007
On the catwalk with Chabad
At this summer's Brooklyn Best outdoor fashion show, organized by Borough President Marty Markowitz to feature the dress and culture of all of Brooklyn's local ethnicities, nobody had volunteered to represent the hassidim.
That's where Mendy Pellin of Crown Heights came in to offer his modeling services.
And sure enough, when the fashion show rolled around, Pellin was there, sashaying down the catwalk dressed in full Chabad garb - with black suit and hat - as if he'd just come back from Fashion Week in Paris.
"I was doing the real catwalk walk and posing like a supermodel, and the place was just going crazy. They totally didn't expect that," the Chabadnik said.
Lanky, with a goofy grin, glasses and bushy black beard, Pellin, 25, definitely looks the part of the average Crown Heights Lubavitcher.
But to fans around the world, he's a celebrity star of the on-line comedy news show ChabadTube that's been seen by 500,000 viewers from Brooklyn's Crown Heights neighborhood to Cairo.The show, currently in production for its third season, is an assortment of news - both real and fake, Jewish and not - from Crown Heights, the US and Israel, with a dollop of satire mixed in. One episode featured a tour of the new mikve (ritual bath) under construction in Crown Heights, in which Pellin kicks back in the empty pool with a six-pack of Budweiser beer.
The Budweiser stunt ruffled a few feathers among the top Crown Heights brass, and his supermodel skit was likewise not received well by many in the community.
"I got tons of flak. Hundreds of people wrote in, asking me how I could do such a thing. Some people didn't understand the whole concept of modeling, they said, you should have had a sefer [holy book] open, you should have been learning. Something to represent us accurately."
But ChabadTube, like any fake news show, isn't about accuracy, it was created with the aim of making people like him more personable to the outside world.
"Everyone stereotypes the Hassid as a smelly, sweaty, generously-sized individual who tucks his shirt into his underwear, with lots of dandruff and yellow teeth," Pellin said in an interview at Crown Heights Bunch O Bagels. "I wanted to give a human face to the Hassid, and show something other than the smelly part."
The passion for news - fake or otherwise - was ignited in Pellin by his late grandmother, an activist in the Reform community.
"She subscribed us to Time, magazine, and I always read it, cover-to-cover. Still do," Pellin said.
"So because of her, news was always a part of me, even though I couldn't really talk to most of my classmates about the news or politics. A lot of things they just didn't know about," he said.
In a community where the secular media is frowned upon and most people don't own televisions, Pellin said that his show, which equally mocks local, national and international current events, was actually the main source of news for his Crown Heights audience.
"I get e-mails from people responding to stories I'm mocking on my show now that are a couple of weeks old already, saying, 'I can't believe this happened!' because they're just finding out about it now, from me. People definitely see the news on my site and it's the first time they're seeing it," he said.
For this reason, Pellin decided that he didn't want to only cover Crown Heights or the Jewish world. His grandmother's love of current affairs inspired him to expose others to the outside world.
"Crown Heights people should be caught up with what's happening in the world. My show gives them, at the least, some main things, to try to get people talking, and I want them to get it in an entertaining medium."
Although television isn't accepted in Crown Heights, the Internet is, which is how Pellin's show became a kosher hit.
But Pellin remembered when the Internet was first coming out, and his principal told him that he couldn't return to school until he got a note saying that he no longer had Internet in the house anymore.
The times have changed, and surfing on-line is now acceptable in the community as long as you use a 'kosher filter' that weeds out unsavory content. "My show makes it through the kosher filter for some reason. I beat the filter," he said, smiling triumphantly.
So once Pellin found his passion, the next step was leaving his "boring job" in the cellphone industry.
"I figured that now, when I'm young, is the time to do that, because when you're older and you're forced to pay for colonoscopies, then you have to just take a job that makes money," he said. "But since I'm young, I have room to screw up."
When Pellin filmed the first episode of ChabadTube, he didn't think he would be in it for very long. "I didn't think people were actually going to watch it besides my friends," he said. But before long, he had around 30,000 viewers per episode, and had become the darling of Crown Heights.
"I thought the Chabad establishment would be pretty much against the show when I started out because it pushes the envelope," Pellin said. "I thought they would say, 'You can't put our dirty laundry in public.' But they love it."
"Even the big mohel [ritual circumciser] of Crown Heights with his long white beard came over to me and said, 'Nu, when's your next show coming out?' And I said, 'You watch it, too?' I didn't think any of these people had a sense of humor, but apparently they do." For news ideas, Pellin reads news sites from Al-Jazeera to the Drudge Report.
"I keep an open mind. I look at all sources. In traditional TV news, they have to deliver a story in a certain way that people will watch it, in a way that has urgency, that it affects you, that hits home, that's scary. Instead of that, I try to make it entertaining by adding in little spice here and there, and satire, and hope that most people get it."
But not everyone gets it. Pellin acknowledged that even his new wife does not understand all the jokes in his show. "She has the attitude of, 'If it makes you happy, do it. I don't get a lot of it, but if it makes you happy, go for it.'"
As for his international fan base, Pellin would like to think that he represents the human side of Chabad. "People who aren't from here don't understand where we're coming from. But when you get to know most of the people in this community, you'll see that they're very sensible people with many of the same desires of the outside, secular world."
"People make these blanket statements from a lack of knowledge and a fear of a culture that looks different than your own. So if I get to be the poster boy, I can help others see the softer side of Sears, the softer side of Chabad."
At this point, a fellow diner approached the table. "I just want to tell you I'm a really big fan," he said.
"I'm not really that famous," Pellin said, after the fan walked away. "I paid him to do that."
That's where Mendy Pellin of Crown Heights came in to offer his modeling services.
And sure enough, when the fashion show rolled around, Pellin was there, sashaying down the catwalk dressed in full Chabad garb - with black suit and hat - as if he'd just come back from Fashion Week in Paris.
"I was doing the real catwalk walk and posing like a supermodel, and the place was just going crazy. They totally didn't expect that," the Chabadnik said.
Lanky, with a goofy grin, glasses and bushy black beard, Pellin, 25, definitely looks the part of the average Crown Heights Lubavitcher.
But to fans around the world, he's a celebrity star of the on-line comedy news show ChabadTube that's been seen by 500,000 viewers from Brooklyn's Crown Heights neighborhood to Cairo.The show, currently in production for its third season, is an assortment of news - both real and fake, Jewish and not - from Crown Heights, the US and Israel, with a dollop of satire mixed in. One episode featured a tour of the new mikve (ritual bath) under construction in Crown Heights, in which Pellin kicks back in the empty pool with a six-pack of Budweiser beer.
The Budweiser stunt ruffled a few feathers among the top Crown Heights brass, and his supermodel skit was likewise not received well by many in the community.
"I got tons of flak. Hundreds of people wrote in, asking me how I could do such a thing. Some people didn't understand the whole concept of modeling, they said, you should have had a sefer [holy book] open, you should have been learning. Something to represent us accurately."
But ChabadTube, like any fake news show, isn't about accuracy, it was created with the aim of making people like him more personable to the outside world.
"Everyone stereotypes the Hassid as a smelly, sweaty, generously-sized individual who tucks his shirt into his underwear, with lots of dandruff and yellow teeth," Pellin said in an interview at Crown Heights Bunch O Bagels. "I wanted to give a human face to the Hassid, and show something other than the smelly part."
The passion for news - fake or otherwise - was ignited in Pellin by his late grandmother, an activist in the Reform community.
"She subscribed us to Time, magazine, and I always read it, cover-to-cover. Still do," Pellin said.
"So because of her, news was always a part of me, even though I couldn't really talk to most of my classmates about the news or politics. A lot of things they just didn't know about," he said.
In a community where the secular media is frowned upon and most people don't own televisions, Pellin said that his show, which equally mocks local, national and international current events, was actually the main source of news for his Crown Heights audience.
"I get e-mails from people responding to stories I'm mocking on my show now that are a couple of weeks old already, saying, 'I can't believe this happened!' because they're just finding out about it now, from me. People definitely see the news on my site and it's the first time they're seeing it," he said.
For this reason, Pellin decided that he didn't want to only cover Crown Heights or the Jewish world. His grandmother's love of current affairs inspired him to expose others to the outside world.
"Crown Heights people should be caught up with what's happening in the world. My show gives them, at the least, some main things, to try to get people talking, and I want them to get it in an entertaining medium."
Although television isn't accepted in Crown Heights, the Internet is, which is how Pellin's show became a kosher hit.
But Pellin remembered when the Internet was first coming out, and his principal told him that he couldn't return to school until he got a note saying that he no longer had Internet in the house anymore.
The times have changed, and surfing on-line is now acceptable in the community as long as you use a 'kosher filter' that weeds out unsavory content. "My show makes it through the kosher filter for some reason. I beat the filter," he said, smiling triumphantly.
So once Pellin found his passion, the next step was leaving his "boring job" in the cellphone industry.
"I figured that now, when I'm young, is the time to do that, because when you're older and you're forced to pay for colonoscopies, then you have to just take a job that makes money," he said. "But since I'm young, I have room to screw up."
When Pellin filmed the first episode of ChabadTube, he didn't think he would be in it for very long. "I didn't think people were actually going to watch it besides my friends," he said. But before long, he had around 30,000 viewers per episode, and had become the darling of Crown Heights.
"I thought the Chabad establishment would be pretty much against the show when I started out because it pushes the envelope," Pellin said. "I thought they would say, 'You can't put our dirty laundry in public.' But they love it."
"Even the big mohel [ritual circumciser] of Crown Heights with his long white beard came over to me and said, 'Nu, when's your next show coming out?' And I said, 'You watch it, too?' I didn't think any of these people had a sense of humor, but apparently they do." For news ideas, Pellin reads news sites from Al-Jazeera to the Drudge Report.
"I keep an open mind. I look at all sources. In traditional TV news, they have to deliver a story in a certain way that people will watch it, in a way that has urgency, that it affects you, that hits home, that's scary. Instead of that, I try to make it entertaining by adding in little spice here and there, and satire, and hope that most people get it."
But not everyone gets it. Pellin acknowledged that even his new wife does not understand all the jokes in his show. "She has the attitude of, 'If it makes you happy, do it. I don't get a lot of it, but if it makes you happy, go for it.'"
As for his international fan base, Pellin would like to think that he represents the human side of Chabad. "People who aren't from here don't understand where we're coming from. But when you get to know most of the people in this community, you'll see that they're very sensible people with many of the same desires of the outside, secular world."
"People make these blanket statements from a lack of knowledge and a fear of a culture that looks different than your own. So if I get to be the poster boy, I can help others see the softer side of Sears, the softer side of Chabad."
At this point, a fellow diner approached the table. "I just want to tell you I'm a really big fan," he said.
"I'm not really that famous," Pellin said, after the fan walked away. "I paid him to do that."
Monday, October 08, 2007
Sukkot in Lubavitch Crown Heights: A Time for Dancing and Singing
Celebration Covers Six Blocks; Men, Women Dance Separately
By Sharon Udasin
Special to Brooklyn Daily Eagle
CROWN HEIGHTS — Sparkling confetti and children’s plastic glow-toys dazzled the air on Kingston Avenue Sunday night as black-clad men danced in jumbled circles till 6:30 a.m., during their weeklong celebrations that follow the Jewish holiday Sukkot.
The festivities began Saturday evening and continued through last night, according to the 71st Precinct. During Chol Hamoed — the days between the onset of Sukkot and the holiday Simchat Torah — Jews of all denominations gather together to celebrate in Crown Heights, said Ben Lifshitz, the creator of a community news source, crownheights.info.
The festive dancing and singing commemorates certain festivities from the Biblical era, when the Israelites were able to miraculously find water during their 40 years of wandering in the desert, Lifshitz said.
“The dancing is a derivative,” he added. “The actual event is that they drew the water.” The “sukkot” themselves, or booths, also commemorate that historical period, in which the ancient Israelites lived in temporary booths as they struggled to reach the promised land.
A band called the Piamenta Brothers guided the revelers, playing everything from traditional Jewish folk music to “La Marseillaise.”
“I come every night because it’s interesting for me — you see people dancing; it’s fun,” said Moshe Friedman, 19, from the Babov sect of Hasidim in Borough Park.
The festival mainly proceeds without disorder, and the visible police presence simply maintains order and security, Lifshitz said. However, he pointed out the significant decrease in police officers from previous years, explaining that many officers were temporarily reassigned to cover the United Nations area in Manhattan.
“There’s a large presence of us,” Lifshitz said, confident that crime will not disturb the celebrations. “You get a bunch of troublemakers coming in, but other than that it’s usually peace and quiet,” confirmed Nossy Slater, 26, a volunteer for the Shomrim Crown Heights Rescue Patrol.
The festivities began Saturday evening and continued through last night, according to the 71st Precinct. During Chol Hamoed — the days between the onset of Sukkot and the holiday Simchat Torah — Jews of all denominations gather together to celebrate in Crown Heights, said Ben Lifshitz, the creator of a community news source, crownheights.info.
The festive dancing and singing commemorates certain festivities from the Biblical era, when the Israelites were able to miraculously find water during their 40 years of wandering in the desert, Lifshitz said.
“The dancing is a derivative,” he added. “The actual event is that they drew the water.” The “sukkot” themselves, or booths, also commemorate that historical period, in which the ancient Israelites lived in temporary booths as they struggled to reach the promised land.
A band called the Piamenta Brothers guided the revelers, playing everything from traditional Jewish folk music to “La Marseillaise.”
“I come every night because it’s interesting for me — you see people dancing; it’s fun,” said Moshe Friedman, 19, from the Babov sect of Hasidim in Borough Park.
The festival mainly proceeds without disorder, and the visible police presence simply maintains order and security, Lifshitz said. However, he pointed out the significant decrease in police officers from previous years, explaining that many officers were temporarily reassigned to cover the United Nations area in Manhattan.
“There’s a large presence of us,” Lifshitz said, confident that crime will not disturb the celebrations. “You get a bunch of troublemakers coming in, but other than that it’s usually peace and quiet,” confirmed Nossy Slater, 26, a volunteer for the Shomrim Crown Heights Rescue Patrol.
(please follow link for the rest of the story)
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