I express my great disappointment in the further leftward lurch of the Kansas City Jewish Chronicle. In the May 30 issue we are confronted by a page 1 piece by Ron Kampeas (Survey of American Jews find anti-Semitism concerns and disapproval of Trump). It discusses a survey by a “liberal leaning Jewish organization … which does polling for Democratic candidates.”
The third paragraph includes “generic Democrat.” The fourth paragraph includes “…strongly Democratic.”
The fifth paragraph applauds Obama in spite of his poor treatment of Netanyahu and his backstabbing of Israel at the U.N.
The sixth paragraph supports two Democratic contenders for the presidency, each of whom, in my own opinion, is highly questionable.
In the next paragraph we are treated to condemnation of Netanyahu relevant to clashes with Obama.
Further along, Kampeas criticizes President Trump on multiple fronts.
Another paragraph begins with “Jewish Democrats.”
In yet another, the executive director of the Jewish Democratic Council of America (whatever that is) is quoted.
This piece knee jerks with “Figures who have been prominent in the Jewish organizational world and in Democratic politics.”
Kehilah (community) can be a powerful force. Communities exist around religion, common interests, race, advocacy, gender identity and politics, to name a few. Community has strengthened my faith, validated and supported my identity, and helped me to become a better human being.
At the start of this month, I visited Kansas City to attend KCPrideFest, a three-day event uniting and celebrating the local LGBTQ community. I came out as gay my senior year of high school at the Hyman Brand Hebrew Academy, then left Kansas City a few months later. Most of my life as an out gay man has been lived in college and in my current home in Washington, D.C., so I was particularly excited to come back to the place where I grew up to experience something I never had before, the local LGBTQ community.
For those who have not been to Pride, it is similar to the Jewish Arts Festival. There are musical performances, food stalls and tents with booths featuring the work of different organizations, vendors and companies. Local nonprofits and faith groups filled these tents, showing the resources and safe spaces they provide for LGBTQ people. But as my brother and I walked up and down the rows of organizations, noticeably absent was our kehilah, our Jewish community.
Many area Methodist, Presbyterian, Buddhist and Atheist groups proudly stood at Pride and demonstrated to the thousands of festival-goers that there was a place in their faith communities for those in attendance. But not a single Jewish organization was present. No synagogue, social action group, preschool, religious school or Jewish community organization was represented. Jews such as myself did not see my kehillah anywhere. But perhaps more significantly, people who weren’t Jewish got the impression that the Jewish community does not stand with the LGBTQ community in Kansas City.
I do want to mention that Rabbi Alpert took part in two other Pride events. He was the keynote speaker at a Pride service held at Children’s Mercy Hospital, marking the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Uprising. He also spoke at an interfaith service at Community Christian Church. His presence and active role in these events are significant.
Visibility matters. Visibility is what pride is all about. As my brother and I were walking around, someone stopped us with a gasp and asked, “Wow, is that a rainbow kippah?” They were so excited, greeting us with ‘shalom,’ as we exchanged smiles and continued on our way. The surprise in their voice inspired me to write this article. Imagine how excited they would have been to see a banner with the name of a synagogue or Jewish organization? How many more people did not see my brother’s kippah and left not knowing that there are Queer Jews or Jewish allies or a local Jewish community? Visibility DOES matter.
So many in my generation turn away from Jewish institutions because they do not feel like welcoming places. I see it with many of my friends. For a time, I felt that way too, until I moved to Washington, D.C. The Conservative synagogue I attend is very inclusive, from their programming and religious practices to their gender inclusive bathrooms throughout the shul. The JCC has a designated LGBTQ programming wing, and I’m proud to serve on the board of this group I have been involved in for years. At the D.C. Pride Festival, more than a dozen local Jewish organizations and synagogues are represented. That is the kind of kehillah that allows me to feel fully immersed and accepted in my Jewish community and allows my peers to feel like the Jewish community shares their values. Are Jews my age in Kansas City feeling welcome in the same way?
Someday, I hope to return to Kansas City and start a family. But I want to do so in a place that I, and other gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and queer people know that the Jewish community is actively welcoming us.
I urge the Kansas City Jewish community, the community that raised me to love my Judaism, to step up and step out. Learn from local churches about the ways they bring inclusion into their houses of worship. Initiate LGBTQ family programming in your communal organizations. Create more visibly welcoming spaces in your religious schools, preschools and day school. Show the Kansas City community that the Jewish community is an active ally that values inclusion as one of its most important Jewish values
Jonathan Edelman is pursuing his master’s in museum studies at The George Washington University, after spending two years working as a part of the curatorial team at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C.
I congratulate Rita Blitt on receiving an honorary Doctorate of Fine Arts degree from Washburn University. Rita created and contributed the sculpture that is the centerpiece of the Skywalk Memorial that honors the victims and first responders to that tragedy. The memorial is located at 22nd and Gillham Road. We will be forever grateful to her and late husband, Irwin, for their commitment and generosity.
Your article about wearing a kippah in Germany (May 30, “It’s dangerous to wear a kippah in Germany, official says”) reminded me of the movie “Deathwish.” If I were much younger and owned a handgun, I would put on a kippah and walk down a deserted street somewhere in Germany. If a local Nazi tried to harm me, he would soon be “pushing up daisies.”
On Sunday, May 19, Ellen Portnoy was one of more than 2,000 people on The Country Club Plaza who protested the near-total abortion ban passed by Missouri legislators in early May. Gov. Mike Parson signed the bill on May 24.
I celebrated my 18th birthday the day after Roe v. Wade was decided by the U.S. Supreme Court, affirming that access to safe and legal abortion is a constitutional right. By then, I already knew people who had become pregnant in high school.
Before the courts made that historical decision, I knew the “secret” term for an abortion, since some would have “woman’s problems” and need to have a D&C. While that’s a medical procedure many women need, then it was also a code word meaning a woman had been pregnant and needed to have that "problem" fixed. And they were lucky, they had the family support and the finances to find a doctor who could help.
Many before Roe v. Wade were not so lucky. It was the time of self-done abortions with knitting needles and hangers. It was the time of back alley abortions, as seen in the movie “Dirty Dancing.” Most seem to forget that an illegal abortion has a major role in the movie. Then there was the wonderful book and film “Cider House Rules,” which gives a portrayal of a doctor who performs illegal abortions during World War II at a Maine orphanage.
Abortion is a medical procedure that has no place in the hands of legislators trying to make a political statement. Abortion is NOT political. It is a private matter for a woman with the input of her doctor, perhaps her clergy and in some cases her significant other. Not all religions see abortion the same way. If it is not accepted in your religion, do not have one. But do not tell others what to do.
For a long time, I was frustrated living in Kansas. But suddenly, Kansas is back! We have a Supreme Court who understands and has ruled that the state constitution gives women the right to have an abortion. Whereas our neighbors across the state line now live in a state that wants to ban and punish doctors for performing a medical procedure and deny woman the rights of control over their own medical needs. I find that beyond disturbing. These legislators are using abortion for political gain, not thinking about the rights of woman. We have HIPPA laws to protect a person’s privacy in all aspects of medicine. Isn’t this going against HIPPA? I think so.
In the Jewish tradition, fetuses do not have souls until they are born. Also, the life of the mother always is deemed more important than the life of a fetus. So for me, as a Jewish woman, I have no problems with abortion in the first 24 weeks. Many fetuses are still not viable outside the womb at this point.
Like many who are pro-choice, I am not pro-abortion. I am pro birth control. I am pro excellent women’s health. I am pro-life for all children once they enter this world, meaning I support health care; supplemental food, housing and clothing; and the opportunity to get an education. I am not for being pro-birth and then doing nothing to support the child, as I see happening now.
With these beliefs, I went to the Pro-Choice Rally on May 19 at J.C. Nichols Fountain on the Plaza with a good friend to show my support and my belief that all women should have the best health care possible. That includes the right to have an abortion when needed.
Ellen Portnoy, a professional fundraiser and active volunteer, is passionate about women’s rights.
As someone who works in the mental health sector, I love seeing all the mental health-related content from news sources and social media during the month of May — Mental Health Awareness month.
What is disappointing is how much of that enthusiasm wanes come June 1. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s fantastic that the topic of mental health gets the positive attention it does this month, especially considering that for many, the topic is very charged.
In recent years, society has made huge strides in reducing the stigma around mental illness. For instance, seeking help for depression and anxiety is becoming common. You don’t even need to leave your home to see a therapist with telehealth and text-based options. At the same time, suicide rates among teens are rising at an alarming rate and no one can pinpoint why.
People have strong feelings about why teens are struggling today more than ever, and I hear from a fair share of adults who believe that they have the solution. However, if we knew what was wrong, wouldn’t we have solved the problem by now?
My work centers on teen mental health by managing the You Be You Teen Mental Health Campaign in local schools in the Greater Kansas City area. Our campaign seeks to encourage students to accept themselves and others as they are, and to embrace the concept of making progress in their lives rather than perfection. The campaign is led by a student group at each school — a critical component of You Be You — and I help support their efforts, keep them on track to reach their goals throughout the year, as well as provide resources for therapy, staff and parent education through my organization, Jewish Family Services. You Be You provides students with materials to share, including T-shirts, stickers and posters, all with affirming messages. You Be You supports student-organized programming throughout the year, including self-care activities during free periods, spirit days that center on self-acceptance and other activities that promote a cultural shift away from perfectionism toward radical self-acceptance.
More than 20,000 local students have been touched by this positive mental wellness campaign.
“I think the campaign is amazing,” said one student participant. “Spreading the message of self-love is important and You Be You is an incredible facet of that mission at our school. Thank you to the campaign for its support.”
Some say the You Be You campaign won’t be effective because it is too “soft” and doesn’t get to the root of the issues that lead to teen suicide. On the contrary; the research suggests that resiliency is a major protective factor against suicide, as is social connectedness, both of which the You Be You campaign promotes.
I believe that what we are doing with the You Be You campaign and how we are doing it are at the forefront of suicide prevention. I just wish more people understood that in order to create real change, we need longer than a month to address mental health. We need comprehensive mental health programs to be integrated into the school curriculum the way that physical activity has become a required course. It is an easy topic to brush to the side to make room for subjects with a more quantifiable impact. If we want our teens to be successful in life and mentally healthy, we must teach them skills like resiliency and the importance of social connection. We must do so as if their lives depend on it, because, if you ask me, they do.
Sarah Link Ferguson is the coordinator for the Greater Kansas City Mental Health Coalition, housed at Jewish Family Services of Greater Kansas City. She also administers the You Be You teen mental health campaign that will begin its third year in Kansas City area schools this fall.
I was fortunate to call Henry Bloch my friend and mentor. He was so kind, gentle, positive and truly cared for people.
In 1979, I met with Henry and his wife, Marion, and asked them to consider accepting Hyman Brand Hebrew Academy’s Civic Service Award, to be presented in 1980. After touring the school and visiting with the teachers and students, they enthusiastically agreed to accept the award.
Seventeen years later, in 1996, on behalf of HBHA I asked Henry for a favor. We wanted Henry to ask Lamar Hunt to be HBHA’s 1997 Civic Service Award honoree. Although he had only met Mr. Hunt twice, he said he would give it a try. Sure enough Lamar Hunt told Henry he would be honored to accept the award and then added, “Henry, the fact you felt this award was so important and you took the time to call me, I feel privileged to be at the event.”
Henry made it a point to visit HBHA every two or three years to speak to the senior class about Kansas City’s business community and economy. The students were honored to hear from him and were mesmerized by his lectures.
I once asked Henry what motivated him and Marion to accept the award from the Hyman Brand Hebrew Academy. He replied that after he and Marion toured the school, he made a point to call several former recipients — including Mayor Richard Berkley, Arthur Mag, Don Hall and Mayor Ilus Davis — to hear their impressions of HBHA. He learned they all felt that Hyman Brand had a vision that they shared as well. For Kansas City to be ranked as a first-class city it had to have great hospitals, a first-class museum, a great university, a first-class symphony and a first-class Jewish day school like the Hyman Brand Hebrew Academy. He then added, “We don’t ever want to be in a position where Kansas City might lose a potential candidate — be it a scientist, lawyer, doctor, educator or business executive — who might not move to Kansas City because his or her children required a Jewish day school education and curriculum. One that would allow the graduate to be the best and the brightest and prepare them to qualify for the college of their choice.”
Henry was the ultimate gentleman’s gentleman. He loved most of all his partner and wife, Marion, his children and grandchildren, and he was eternally grateful to Kansas City. He devoted his life to giving back to Kansas City.
I, along with thousands of people, will miss Henry Bloch. May his memory always be for a blessing.
Marie Torres and her daughter, Dolly. United State Holocaust Memorial Museum. (Courtesy of Katy Torres McCormack)
Dolly was a wondrous child born to Marie and Moise Torres in 1937. In the studio portrait with her mother, Dolly, with her springy curls, smiles bashfully. This sweet girl wears her sailor suit with a jaunty cap in the nautical theme of her birthplace, Salonica, a port city in Greece. She and her mother are unaware of the larger world events that will soon take over their lives.
Salonica was called by some the Jerusalem of the Balkans since Jews had settled there in large numbers after being expelled from Spain and Portugal. Dolly spoke Ladino (the Judeo-Spanish language written in Rashi Hebrew script) at home with family and with her little friends.
Moise was the owner of a photography studio and Marie was busy as a part owner of a manufacturing business. In a snapshot, Marie looks as if she has stopped off from work to pose briefly in front of her husband’s studio. Their lives as Sephardic Jews centered around the Sabbath and celebrating Jewish holidays. A constant worry in their lives began when Katy, their older daughter, developed tuberculosis in 1939 at the age of 4 and had to be hospitalized. No one knew at the time that she would have to remain as an inpatient for six years.
Soon war raged in Europe with Germany defeating Greece and entering Salonica in 1941. Marie and Mosie, like other Jews, were singled out for abuse. The catastrophic anti-Jewish measures began in February 1943. Dolly’s life changed dramatically; she was told they had to leave their home, her dear friends and favorites toys. They were being forced to move into a ghetto. Somehow Dolly and her mother ended up there without Moise. In March 1943, the Germans tricked the Jews into boarding “transport” trains. Marie had packed clothes for the work she was misled to believe would be waiting for her in Krakow, Poland. Dolly and Marie boarded a car with the other people.
When the doors of the freight car opened, 6-year-old Dolly had arrived in Auschwitz. The effect of chaotic shouting and dogs barking was instant terror for her. Still, mother and daughter were allowed to stay together. Told they needed to bathe, they undressed. Unaware, Dolly walked with her mother and the others from their beloved city into a gas chamber; they were locked in and killed. By August 1943 the last trains had reached Auschwitz and the Jewish community of Salonica had ceased to exist.
The plight of Dolly was simple. Girls and boys under the age of 12 years were dispensable. In one transport from Poland of 2,500 individuals, 80 percent were young daughters and sons, sisters and brothers, and playmates who were never officially registered but just killed in Auschwitz. Hundreds of baby carriages were shipped to Germany, hinting at the number of babies who had died in the camp. Dolly left almost no trace. She didn’t write letters or sign official documents, possibly only a single photograph of her remains. Hundreds of thousands of Jewish girls and boys shared Dolly’s end. The future generation of European Jews had been destroyed.
During these Days of Remembrance, it is our sacred duty to cherish the memories of our own loved ones and all victims. When we mourn their loss, we join in the history of our people, l’dor vador. We are the link between past generations and future ones. What we do to remember, therefore, matters.
We Jews are a people who have a passion for defending our freedom. In their time, so did the victims; but those who spoke up were treated with ruthless violence. We have the freedom to pay tribute to them, though, by exercising our rights to speak up for the values and principles we believe in. We can defend causes about which we care deeply, like safeguarding the lawful rights of vulnerable groups (by opposing religious freedom bills), protecting and strengthening voting rights, and pressing for bail reform to stop punishing the poor and racial minorities under the current system. Though if we are indifferent or complacent, we will choose a different path. Then we must ask ourselves, “Am I sacrificing speaking up for silence?” Silence is easier but it doesn’t protect our way of life as we know it.
Mary Greenberg, Ph.D., serves on the State of Kansas Holocaust Commission. Her speaking engagements on preventing anti-Semitism and the link between leadership and anti-Semitism are based on her research that advances the study of the Jewish people in the Diaspora. This column is written in memory of her relatives, the daughters and sons of the Haguel and Levy families from Salonica, who perished in Auschwitz during Passover 1943.
Yom HaShoah — Holocaust Remembrance Day
The local Yom HaShoah service, commemorating the 76th anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising and the 56th anniversary of the dedication of Kansas City’s Memorial to the Six Million, will take place at 1:30 p.m. Sunday, May 15, at the Lewis and Shirley White Theatre.
Israel officially began commemorating Yom HaShoah at sundown yesterday, May 1.
This is deeply personal. But what I have experienced should resonate with the entire Jewish community — the one we know and the one to come. In the whirlwind that seizes me and all who are communally aware, I have reached a new and stunning personal location, wedged between the searing past and the uncertain future.
My story begins before I was born, when my grandmother Fanya seized her slender teenaged daughter — my mother-to-be — Edyka, and pushed her out of the small vent at the top of a suffocating boxcar rumbling inexorably from Bialystok, Poland, toward the Treblinka deathcamp. Together, they made the split-second decision that at least one person should escape. My mother became a “jumper.” That day, she jumped into a hostile and dangerous Polish forest, was shot by local forces, and then buried in a hastily-arranged mass grave in the snow. Buried, yet one nearly lifeless limb protruded.
Teenaged Herschel, an audacious forest fighter, came upon the area. Spying Edyka’s leg moving. He pulled her out of the pile. For two years, under cloak of night and by raw courage, they lived in the woods as brave partisans. They survived. After the war, believing millions of Jews had been killed, they decided to continue living as Jews, precisely because so many tried to kill our people. After two years in a displaced persons camp, they found their U.S. home in Chicago. Their courage and determination allowed me to be born.
Growing up, I eagerly inhaled my Jewish heritage and love of Israel. With imbued purpose, I devoted my life to unmasking and addressing the hidden players and hidden hands behind the darkest evils and injustices. I adopted the identity of a Second Generation author long before the larger Second Generation movement developed its own national identity.
Among the disparate generation of unique survivors that came to America, many parsed themselves into two types. One group was determined to boldly keep the memory of Nazi crimes intensely illuminated as a warning beacon to all humanity — that was my family’s group. This group robustly fought for commemoration, investigation and compensation. They demanded unending X-rays and dissection of the sick international body politic that perpetrated, facilitated and tolerated the Holocaust. My eye was focused on corporate complicity by those too big to be exposed, such as IBM, Ford, GM, Carnegie and Rockefeller.
A second group of survivors preferred not to talk about the unspeakable experience except among themselves — the so-called “sha-sha” survivors. Perhaps, while some were proud to survive somehow they also felt shamed by the degradation they had overcome. Some felt guilty that they lived while their loved ones had perished by gas, gunshot or other gruesome means. Each had deeply personal reasons for their reticence. But all were protective of their American-born children. Many wanted to shield their sons and daughters from their traumatic experiences as a further act of conquest over their anguish. Even so, by this century, many “sha-sha” survivors had found their voices and sought rooftops to climb and vociferously proclaim their identity. But by now, a new generation had grown up with far fewer nightmares.
During those post-war decades, the “sha-sha” mindset among survivors was accompanied by the nonchalance of comfortable, non-refugee Jews who felt no threat to their safety in fortress America, the land of equality, freedom and personal protections. Too many saw the bond with Israel to be a cultural encumbrance to their assimilated American existence. Family traditions were replaced with internet communities.
Commentary
Like many in the corridors of the communally aware, I have been repeatedly shocked by the eruption of open anti-Semitism and anti-Jewish violence in Europe, the mainstreaming of anti-Semitism in the United States, and the eroded position of Israel within certain flanks of the Jewish community. Like many who worry about such matters, my outlook was bleak.
Then two things happened to me.
Last year, my operatically-trained, rock-pop singer/songwriter and cantorial soloist daughter Rachel Black — with no advance notice to me — wrote a haunting Holocaust ballad. It is among the first songs of the Holocaust written in contemporary musical style. I was astonished to learn that it was titled “Edyka,” named for my mother. In piercing rhythms and searing lyrics, “Edyka” retold the story of my grandmother in that ghastly boxcar, saving my mother, which made it possible for me to exist and for my daughter to also exist, thereby keeping the memory alive. When we live beyond our days, it is only because we live in memory. My mother has passed, but her inspiring struggle lives on. I have repeatedly written about my parents’ story, and now my daughter has ignited a new vector of remembrance in song.
Then, Rachel was invited to sing and deliver a keynote address at the state of Kansas’ official Yom HaShoah commemoration in Topeka in 2018. At the last minute, she received permission to sneak preview her song in a solo performance, evoking a rousing, emotional reception. Soon, Rachel performed “Edyka” elsewhere in Kansas, where she lives, now with accompanying musicians, attracting a following who connected with the message. Crowds teared up and stood in applause when she chanted the song’s pulsing injunction to survive. The Kansas City Star learned of the buzz and published an extended Mother’s Day feature about my daughter, her grandmother, her great-grandmother and the song linking them all. The newspaper also videoed a performance of the song for its website. Quickly, the Star’s coverage was syndicated, and then picked up by the Associated Press. Within days, the feature had been published by several dozen American newspapers including the Washington Times and Miami Herald. A few weeks later, Rachel and her group of accompanying musicians found themselves in a recording studio. Shortly after the CD was released, Amazon issued a big order, and it briskly sold as a single. In October 2018, Rachel flew to Washington, D.C., to perform her song at the National Press Club before a prestigious gathering at a Holocaust Legacy ceremony. A few weeks later, she rendered a house-chilling performance at a large commemoration of the 80th anniversary of Kristallnacht held at Temple Israel of the City of New York, sponsored by the Suzanna Cohen Legacy Foundation.
I said two things happened to me. One was my daughter’s song about my mother and grandmother.
The second was learning that Rachel would be bringing into the world another descendant, made possible by my grandmother and mother, eternalized in song by my daughter, now giving birth to my granddaughter as the generation-to-generation slow-motion staccato trumpet ceaselessly blasts. Second Generation, Third Generation, now Fourth Generation.
The new 4G arrival is baby Cora Edyka. Korach gave rise to the original cantors who sang at the Ark of the Covenant. Edyka was in the boxcar. Thus comes Cora Edyka, fit and fighting to take her place in the legacy of survival. I received a video of Cora Edyka’s first moments in the world as her mother gently sang to her in Hebrew — Hinei Mah Tov. “How good it is … to dwell together.” Hence, the first sounds heard in Cora Edyka’s existence were not Sesame Street cheeps or baby doll squeaks, but the very sounds the Nazis worked so hard to extinguish.
Whether “sha-sha” or fiery activist, the generations of the Holocaust have been determined to fortify and protect the ones to follow. Quite soon, all the survivors will be gone. The Second Generation, including me, will also soon be gone. The Third Generation has the duty to ensure that the Fourth Generation will carry the torch. Sha-sha is no more. It will be the Third and Fourth Generation’s challenge that we “Never Forget,” for ourselves and for the world. This challenge will be immeasurably more difficult in the decades to come than it was for me over the past half century.
At issue is the question of whether the next generation of Jews will walk furtively looking over their shoulder, or boldly toward a gleaming horizon. I know Rachel and Cora will be among the bold. But they will need plenty of strength and help.
Edwin Black is the New York Times bestselling author of IBM and the Holocaust and many other books. He can be found at www.edwinblack.com.
Yom HaShoah — Holocaust Remembrance Day
Yom HaShoah, also known as Holocaust Remembrance Day, occurs on the 27th of Nisan and is observed as Israel’s day of commemoration for the approximately 6 million Jews and 5 million others who perished in the Holocaust. In Israel, it is a national memorial day and public holiday. It was inaugurated on 1953, anchored by a law signed by Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion and the President Yitzhak Ben-Zvi. This year Yom HaShoah begins at sundown on Wednesday, May 1.
The local Yom HaShoah service, commemorating the 76th anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising and the 56th anniversary of the dedication of Kansas City’s Memorial to the Six Million, will take place at 1:30 p.m. Sunday, May 5, at the Lewis and Shirley White Theatre.
