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91´«ý

October 21, 2026

Albie Selznick’s Unlikely Connection to David Bowie Inspires New Solo Show

When Albie Selznick was 20, he sent David Bowie a letter proposing a circus-inspired act for the rock star’s tour. Inspired by the French clown character Bowie portrayed during his “Scary Monsters” era, Selznick imagined teaching his idol to juggle and walk a tightrope. He hardly expected a reply from one of the biggest singers in the world. Then, one day, a letter arrived in Bowie’s own handwriting. Bowie wrote that he was intrigued and excited by the idea.

“I couldn’t imagine that my idea had actually reached him and that he wrote me back,” Selznick recalled. “My first thought was that it was my friend Michael who wrote that letter.Ìý I called him yelling that it’s not nice to play such a prank on me and he swore it wasn’t him.”

The letter was real and Selznick felt elated. Bowie actually took the time to write him, a 91´«ý kid from Los Angeles, one of many fans around the world.Ìý

So, Selznick sat down to write another letter, and then another one, and Bowie replied again.

“He wrote that he often wore the T-shirt I had sent to his hotel room,” said Selznick.

More than four decades later, that extraordinary exchange is the inspiration for “Letter from David,” a solo play at the Santa Monica Playhouse. Selznick uses his talents as an actor, magician and mime to tell his life story.

Magic became Selznick’s refuge after his father, a psychoanalyst, died days before his ninth birthday. He was devastated but found solace in magic after his mom took him to the Magic Castle. It was there that Selznick made up his mind to become a magician.

“It was kind of my way to get away from my sad life,” he said. “I used to believe in UFOs and wished they would take me away, but magic got me out of it. It brought me to a new reality that was exciting and fantastical.”

His second fascination began when he was 13 years old and his magic partner introduced him to David Bowie and his album “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.” Bowie’s constant reinvention and willingness to embrace being different made a lasting impression on Selznick. Without a father figure, he began to look up to the British musician as a role model. “He became my north star,” Selznick said. “I thought that Bowie could understand me. I wanted to be just like him.”

Selznick finally saw his idol perform live when he was 15 and made up his mind that he wanted to create a show of his own and work with Bowie. He held on to that dream for years, and, without giving away any spoilers, it lies at the heart of his one-man show, which he co-wrote with his wife, filmmaker Laura Maccabee, who also directed it. He also trained in mime, juggling and tightrope walking, eventually forming a performance company called The Mums with two other artists. The group found great success, touring internationally and opening for rock bands including Devo, Berlin and Duran Duran.

Selznick wrote several plays and developed a magic show, “Smoke and Mirrors,” at the Santa Monica Playhouse. With the help of favorable reviews in The Los Angeles Times, which repeatedly featured it as a Critics’ Choice in its Sunday theater section, the show attracted large audiences and went on to run in four different theaters around Los Angeles.

Today, Selznick says, it is harder to draw audiences to live theater, in part because The Los Angeles Times no longer has the theater-review section it once did. “We need to get the word out,” he said.

Despite the challenges, live theater remains Selznick’s first love. He appeared in about 250 commercials, including campaigns for Nike and Mountain Dew, and used the money to travel to New York on weekends to see as many as five shows before returning to Los Angeles. As an actor, he has also appeared in television series and films, including “The Young and the Restless,” “Suddenly Susan” and, most recently, the Michael Jackson biopic “Michael,” in which he played a plastic surgeon.

His new show took shape over six months of writing and workshops with friends who offered feedback. After five performances at the Hollywood Fringe Festival, it received an encouraging response, prompting Selznick and his wife to bring it to the Santa Monica Playhouse.

The result is a heartwarming, funny and fascinating show featuring well-known figures such as Mick Jagger and Andy Warhol, but above all, David Bowie.

“Letter From David” opened on Oct. 18 and will run every Sunday until Dec. 20 at the Santa Monica Playhouse.

Albie Selznick’s Unlikely Connection to David Bowie Inspires New Solo Show Read More »

Is the New Facebook Film Equal to the Original?

91´«ý actress Mikey Madison, who won the Best Actress Oscar for starring in “Anora,” shows great versatility. A sex worker in that film, in “The Social Reckoning,” she’s a socially conscious employee willing to blow the whistle on Facebook (now called Meta) because she believes it is harming people, especially the youth of America.

Madison plays Frances Haugen, the Facebook whistle-blower. The movie opens with one of her friends being racist and sharing the video. Frances realizes the algorithms radicalize people and the company makes money from getting people angry and spending more time on the site.Ìý

Wall Street Journal reporter Jeff Horwitz, who won the Pulitzer Prize for reporting on the media giant, is played by Jeremy Allen White as a by-the-book guy who wants all the info he can get from Frances. There is no romantic tension between the two characters. While that may have been true to the story, if done in a way that wasn’t shlocky, it could have added something.

Jeremy Strong is excellent as Mark Zuckerberg, who is written as a one-note, totally evil person who only cares about making more money. We see him prepping for a congressional hearing with a guy brought in to challenge him, played by comedian Bill Burr. Burr is decent, but not believable.Ìý

If you watch this movie expecting it to come anywhere close to the heights of “The Social Network,” you will be disappointed. The 2010 film was directed by David Fincher, with a screenplay by Aaron Sorkin, and it’s in the top 100 movies I’ve ever seen.Ìý

Sorkin, a writing and directing genius, had a much harder job in this film, which he both wrote and directed. The first film featured a perfect Jesse Eisenberg as Zuckerberg. Though he didn’t look or sound like Zuckerberg, he oozed tension, and along with Andrew Garfield as Eduardo Savaerin, Justin Timberlake as Napster founder Sean Parker and Armie Hammer playing the Winklevoss twins, Cameron and Tyler, there was tension in every scene and the arc of Zuckerberg going from a college student to a start at the top of the mountain. Even for the greatly gifted Sorkin, there’s no way to match that with a film about a guy who’s now a billionaire at the top of the mountain with nobody who can really challenge him. Strong nails the cadence of Zuckerberg but the movie villainizes him to the extent that he is no longer human. It would have been a smart move to show some lighter scenes with his wife or doing martial arts. Unfortunately, viewers will look at Strong in scenes with big TVs around and think of nothing but his role on “Succession.” White has an understated role and viewers will see him as the same chef from “The Bear,” but out of the kitchen and perhaps moving on to a new venture = out of the frying pan and into the fire. Ìý

Madison deserves praise for doing her best to make the film great. It wants you to be concerned with social issues, but a movie has to stand alone, create tensions and have gravitas. This film doesn’t sufficiently do so, though it is still worth a watch due to Madison and Strong.Ìý

91´«ý actress Mikey Madison shines as a whistle-blower in “The Social Reckoning.”

To get us to care about bullying online, we should see someone get bullied. Instead, there is a throw-away scene of Madison overhearing a teenage girl complain to her parents. It goes without saying that social media poses challenges top society, especially youth, and there can be harmful effects. For one thing, bots should be banned. The film raises the issue of Facebook/Meta posting political ads without factchecking. This is one of many good points.

But the film mostly leaves out that individuals have agency. People can see an ad and still have the ability to do their own factchecking. Bullying online or in real life is terrible, but parents must also teach their children how to handle it. The movie doesn’t delve into racism or antisemitism online, but every company can have their own guidelines for free speech and speech that violates its policies, and it should be enforced on a consistent basis, not only if a few people complain about one person or group.Ìý

This film isn’t about a power struggle, but shows that powerful companies are reluctant to change unless there is pain. The fact is each person might have their own moral values, but unless there is a law that is enforced, few things change.Ìý

Strong’s Zuckerberg says his company is a “corkboard” and should not be required to attest to the truth of anything. Others believe that since so many get their news content from the site, it should be treated like legacy media, and be sued if it knowingly publishes something false. Zuckerberg and other social media companies argue they are the platform and not creating the content, so they are not liable.Ìý

Sorkin gives us an interesting film, but it doesn’t envelop you. It’s not memorable and doesn’t stick to you. The result is that “The Social Reckoning” doesn’t make us feel like there is any reckoning to be done. Madison’s character doesn’t seem to be in much danger, and White is non-plussed. And Strong’s Zuckerberg is like an evil robot. The result is we don’t feel anything real, even though we know there are problems in real life. So, the film writes a check to our brains that our hearts can’t cash.

Is the New Facebook Film Equal to the Original? Read More »

Larry David Is Spot-on in His Satire of the DSA

I was surprised to see that Larry David wrote an article for the on-line magazine Air Mail, but David, rain or shine, delivers great comedy and tells the truth.

In his article about his proposals for the Democratic Socialists of America, he jokes that “The DSA has great respect for religious traditions.”

He also writes that “Jews will no longer be allowed to refer to themselves as ‘the Chosen People.’ Henceforth, their new nickname will be ‘The Bagel People.’”

Expect the DSA to get upset about his article, and for good reason. The DSA, whenever called out on its absurd ideas like wanting to abolish the Senate, plays the broken record that President Donald Trump is terrible. Whether one loves or hates Trump (David hates him). that doesn’t mean one can’t point out absurdities.Ìý

We should not forget David is a comedian, and anything he writes should be taken with a grain of salt. But the truth is the DSA has made Israel-bashing a litmus test.Ìý

The DSA has promoted itself as an antidote, not only to Trump, but to traditional moderate Democrats, who are, the argument goes, not extreme enough. Expect them to lambaste David as a rich, elite person whose opinions should be disregarded. This is the way of the DSA.

DSA candidates generally do not acknowledge Israel’s right to exist, let alone advocate a two-state solution. In his article, David wrote: “We strongly believe in a two-state solution. To this end, we propose that Palestinians should be given the land currently occupied by Israel and that Israel should be given the Pitcairn Island in the South Pacific, where the weather is beautiful, and grapefruits are aplenty. We think the Bagel People will be very happy there.”

He also writes that homeowners should be forced to leave their doors open and host all strangers. (On “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” Larry and his wife took in a family that had to flee a hurricane, though it was his wife’s idea and not his.)Ìý

And he writes that comedians who offend anyone will be sent to a facility to be re-programmed.

David is correct that people are too easily offended by jokes. I have often found that many pretend to be offended due to a desire for attention.

In society, satire can sometimes be effective and while it remains to be seen if an article can have impact, it is a blessing to see that David, one of the comedic geniuses of our time, has taken the time to lampoon a political party whose leaders went on TV and said that America should have no borders, the presidency should be eliminated and prisons should be abolished. These ideas would be laughed at if a first grader said it, but somehow, this is accepted as serious political discourse in 2026 because the cost of living is high, as if any of those things will make the cost of living lower. DSA Co-Chair Megan Romer has also spoken about shifting large corporations into public ownership. Kudos to David for calling out sheer stupidity. The Washington Examiner noted that at the DSA’s 2025 national convention in Chicago, it passed Resolution 22, “For a Fighting Anti-Zionist DSA,” in which it declared that affiliation with AIPAC, J Street or Democratic Majority for Israel” is incompatible with membership.

Kudos to David for calling out sheer stupidity.

Perhaps “Saturday Night Live” will have David host the show and in a skit be a fictitious DSA presidential candidate who will debate Larry David as Bernie Sanders on a video screen. That would be hilarious and eventful. Go do it, Lorne Michaels!Ìý

Larry David Is Spot-on in His Satire of the DSA Read More »

Remember and Be Grateful

Gratitude is the mother of Happiness. Happy people make the world a better place, and unhappy people do not. Gratitude doesn’t come naturally; parents must teach their children to say thank you a million times a day. Memory is the mother of gratitude. If we do not remember our past, it is difficult to improve our present or build a better future.

I first experienced gratitude as a young boy in Baghdad, Iraq, running to Yumma, my paternal grandmother. She was old, walked with a limp and would hug me when I was crying, saying, “Don’t cry, Ayuni” (my eyes), “You’re going to be rich.” I didn’t understand the connection between my pain and being rich, but I knew the feeling of being comforted and came to deeply appreciate it.Ìý Later, I realized she had survived extreme poverty when she was widowed in her mid-20s after a plague ravished Baghdad. Left with three boys, she survived with the help of the 91´«ý community, who supplied second-hand clothing and food.Ìý

Like everyone, I couldn’t choose my parents, genes or environment. The only thing in my power was how I reacted to uncontrollable and unpredictable events. In spite of the broken dreams, disappointments and failures I have faced in my life, I learned to create new dreams, build upon disappointments and make failures a stepping stone to success.Ìý

Developing gratitude didn’t come easily. My first major disappointment came after high school. My dreams of studying in the United States vanished when Iraq refused to give me an exit visa, solely for being 91´«ý. I became bitter, feeling betrayed by my own country. In 1948, following the failed Arab military campaign against the newly born State of Israel, Iraq turned against its 91´«ý population, which had resided there for over 2,500 years. Accusations of Zionism triggered summary arrests, torture, imprisonment, and public executions. It became impossible for me to stay in Iraq.Ìý In December 1949, at age 19 and without saying goodbye, I left my family and culture behind, risking my life to smuggle out in a riverboat hidden underneath hay, traveling from Iraq to Iran and finally to Israel.

When I arrived in Israel, I kissed the ground. I tasted freedom for the first time — walking freely, talking freely and sleeping freely. It is impossible to describe that feeling to those born into a free society. However, I also became homeless and penniless refugee, standing in line with a tin plate in a camp, sleeping on a steel bed with a straw mattress in a tent anchored in the sand, without electricity or water. Soon, I realized I couldn’t survive solely on freedom. As a spoiled teenager from Baghdad, this harsh new reality made me miserable and I made everybody around me miserable. I felt alone and depressed and asked, “Why me?”

In the darkness of night, a voice, perhaps from God, awakened me: “What are you complaining about? You made it out of Iraq safely. You are young and healthy in a free country. Pick yourself up and build your future.” I walked out of my tent, looked at the stars, and felt grateful for the unlimited potential ahead. Looking at the other tents, I realized everyone faced the same situation; I was not alone.

Instead of university, I joined the compulsory service of the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF). After three months of grueling training, I served in the Navy in Haifa, where my aunt and uncle lived. I learned discipline, camaraderie and mutual support. After finishing my service two years and four months later, I felt truly matured, grateful for my transformation and full of hope and ambition. I felt happy with the new me.Ìý

The dream of higher education still kindled in me. In 1956, I moved to Montreal, Canada, to attend Sir George Williams College. A harsh reality set in: at 26, facing a new culture, language, severe weather and no money, I painfully dropped out to find a job. With no profession, no degree, nor special talent, the job market was limited.Ìý

I dreamed of traveling the world, marrying and giving my future children the education I missed. Jealous of the wealthy people I met, including Holocaust survivors, and wanting to emulate them, I asked them the secret to their wealth. The common answer was that they all started from zero. Waking up in the middle of the night in my cold apartment, I told myself, “I‘m a member of the rich club. I, too, have zero.”

They advised me: “Don’t be deluded by the security of a job. Start your own business, take a chance and be resilient.” Remembering Helen Keller’s words, “Life is an adventure or nothing,” I realized adventure includes disappointment and failure. Inspired, I joined a real estate firm. After struggling for a year and a half, sometimes surviving on one meal a day, I became a top salesman, then a manager and eventually co-founded a brokerage firm. When I discovered my partner was shortchanging the salesmen, I realized he would eventually cheat me too. I immediately sold my share at a discount, grateful to be out.

In 1960, less than five years after arriving in Montreal, I started Fulton Realties. Within two years, I had over 30 salesmen. I branched out into finance and construction, and by 1976, I was involved in building over 1,200 apartments. Not all were profitable.

In the summer of 1976, my partner and I completed a 21-story apartment building in Downtown Montreal. Simultaneously, Quebec elected a French separatist government, causing many English-speaking residents to flee the province. The building remained empty, forcing me to abandon it due to a lack of tenants. I lost nearly all my assets. Yet, I am grateful for that failure; it pushed me to develop a resoluteness to discover new ideas, approaches and opportunities. I immediately started a new venture converting rental apartments to condominiums, recovering my losses within a couple of years.

In 1978, I moved with my wife and three teenage children to Santa Monica, California, continuing in real estate. In the latter half of 2025, at 94, I faced a new battle, being hospitalized seven times and surviving three major surgeries. There were moments when I struggled to stay alive and wished it all would end. With the continual encouragement from my family, caregivers and friends, I recovered slowly. Today, I can walk steadily with a walker.

I am deeply grateful for my faith in God, which helped me fight and recover so I can continue my purpose: to enlighten people about the Jews of Arab lands and how they became forgotten refugees. Having visited over 100 countries and lived in four, I can state unequivocally that America, despite its divisions, remains a beacon of hope, liberty and justice. I am grateful and proud to be an American. As a survivor from Iraq and a former refugee, I feel obligated to continue sharing my story. Remembering Einstein’s words, “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle,” I am profoundly grateful that my life has been, and still is, a chain of miracles.


Joseph Samuels is a survivor of the 1941 Farhud pogrom in Baghdad and author of the memoir, “Beyond the Rivers of Babylon: My Journey of Optimism and Resilience in a Turbulent Century.”

Remember and Be Grateful Read More »

Michael Broukhim’s Journey to a Deeper Judaism

A few weeks ago, Michael Broukhim decided that a Torah study gathering for 91´«ý business leaders wasn’t big enough.

When Yossi Farro, a social media personality known for rapping about 91´«ý life, suggested bringing a few people together in Los Angeles to study Torah, Broukhim had a different idea.

“No, we have to go big,” he recalled telling her. “Let’s call it Wrap Fest.”

They put the word out and, within a week, about 200 people showed up.

For Broukhim, the gathering was about more than Torah study. It was an attempt to create something he believes is increasingly missing from 91´«ý life: a place for Jews to come together simply to be 91´«ý — joyfully, proudly and without having to fight or defend themselves.

“I don’t think a lot of people have those channels, and I think there’s a big yearning for it,” he said.

Broukhim was born in Los Angeles to Iranian parents who fled Iran after the revolution in 1979. He is an entrepreneur, investor and lawyer who first made his mark in digital media.Ìý

While still in college, he landed his first major client: Rudy Giuliani’s presidential campaign, for which he helped build a website and develop its digital media strategy.

After working with political clients, Broukhim returned to Los Angeles, where a chance introduction to celebrity stylist Rachel Zoe opened the door to Hollywood. He and his business partner began working with Zoe and her husband, Roger, and their client list soon expanded to include the Golden Globe Awards and the American Music Awards. Their work focused on websites, digital strategy and media.

Broukhim later turned from working for clients to building his own brands. In 2010, he and his brother, Daniel, along with Katie Ann Rosen, launched FabFitFun, initially as a media company covering beauty, fashion, fitness and wellness. In 2013, they introduced the subscription box that became the company’s signature product. It eventually grew to more than one million members. Broukhim also invested in companies such as SpaceX, Stripe and Hut8.

While Broukhim was building his career, his relationship with Judaism was also beginning to grow. He said meeting his wife in 2017 was a turning point.Ìý

“On our first date, she told me she didn’t like her Harvard experience. She was an undergraduate there,” Broukhim said. “I, on the other hand, had graduated a decade earlier and had a great time. I asked her why, and she said it was because of what she encountered in her Middle East course. Her professor was telling the class that the Middle East had once been this very peaceful and calm place until a bunch of European colonialists showed up and created the apartheid state of Israel. It was downhill from there.”

After arguing with the professor over those claims, his future wife eventually left the department and switched to the Divinity School, where she studied comparative religion.

“As we just started dating, all of a sudden I was kind of surrounded by these more 91´«ý-rooted ideas,” Broukhim said. “That was the beginning, I would say, of the process that followed.”

Until then, Broukhim’s 91´«ý life had largely centered on Shabbat and the holidays.

“I didn’t grow up close to religion and the core foundational ideas in Judaism,” he said. “To me, it was more about gathering for Shabbat dinner, and I knew I had to go to synagogue on Yom Kippur every year. But I didn’t understand the broader 91´«ý purpose, the plan, the reason we do all these things, the underlying philosophy and theology behind it.”

After he got married in 2020, Broukhim began studying Torah with rabbis and on his own. That period coincided with a series of personal and professional challenges: his brother was diagnosed with cancer, and Broukhim experienced his first major setback in his business.

“To me, it was almost like a revelation. I was like, I didn’t know that Judaism had this much to offer, so to speak. Before, I was proud to be 91´«ý, but I didn’t understand how much wisdom there was beneath the surface.”

What began as a personal exploration of Judaism eventually became intertwined with Broukhim’s professional life. Then came Oct. 7, which deepened his connection to Israel and drew him further into the 91´«ý community.

The experience that Broukhim had was shared by many Jews after Oct. 7. A term emerged to describe them: “Oct. 8 Jews,” people whose connection to their 91´«ý identity, Israel or the 91´«ý community deepened in the aftermath of the attacks. Broukhim, whose own 91´«ý journey had begun several years earlier, found himself among them. Oct. 7 deepened his connection to Israel and drew him further into the 91´«ý community.Ìý

It was also the first time he experienced antisemitism firsthand when his wife’s social-media posts went viral and his company was targeted online by pro-Palestinian accounts. But the experience did not make him retreat.Ìý

“There is even more strength and support that I get than negativity,” he said.

Rather than keeping his 91´«ý identity separate from his professional life, Broukhim began bringing it with him into his business relationships and the Los Angeles technology community.

“If that inspires people, connects them and unifies them, then I feel very very lucky to be able to do that. I think that’s a blessing.”

That connection between Judaism, Israel and technology eventually became central to his next venture. In January 2026, Broukhim and Israeli investor Lior Prosor launched Deep33 Ventures, a U.S.-Israel deep-tech investment firm focused on areas including artificial intelligence infrastructure, energy, quantum computing, autonomy and robotics. The firm closed its first fund at $200 million in June, exceeding its original $150 million target.

The name of Broukhim’s investment firm reflects the influence of his 91´«ý learning. He chose “Deep” to signify the firm’s focus on deep technology, while “33” refers to the 33rd day of the Omer, Lag BaOmer, a day deeply connected to the mystical tradition of Judaism and the teachings of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai.

“It’s the day the secrets of the universe are revealed through the Zohar, a lot of what we think we’re doing as a firm is to reveal the truth of the world,” he said.

For Broukhim, the name reflects more than a connection to 91´«ý tradition. It also reflects how he sees the work of the entrepreneurs he backs.

“I think if we’re afraid to do or say the things that are meaningful and important to us, we’re just not going to build the world that we want to see and live in. So, I encourage everyone to take that jump.”

Michael Broukhim’s Journey to a Deeper Judaism Read More »

Rosner’s Domain | No Surprise Is Also an Election Surprise

1. Most of the public no longer views Benjamin Netanyahu as the most suitable candidate to be Israel’s prime minister. This is a fixed data point, consistent for several months now. And it is not a data point whose significance should be dismissed. For many years, Netanyahu enjoyed a distinct advantage on the question of suitability for the premiership. In this current election cycle, even though the opposition lacks a clear, universally agreed-upon leader, Netanyahu consistently trails behind Gadi Eisenkot.Ìý

This data point, among others, leads to an almost self-evident conclusion: most of the Israeli public is tired of Netanyahu. On the other hand, there is no alternative candidate who commands majority support as his worthy successor. Eisenkot is preferred by a large group, but its size doesn’t reach the 50% mark. So Israel is still seaching for a leader of a majority.Ìý

2. What we refer to as the “blocs” essentially crystallized into their current proportions around March of 2023. Meaning – they have maintained their current size despite massive, seismic shocks like Oct. 7, the war in Gaza and two rounds against Iran. One can always assume – or hope, depending on one’s preference – that Election Day will bring a major shift. That Likud defectors will suddenly “come home.” In elections, anything can happen. That is why they are held.

But on the flip side: waves of bombings in Iran didn’t bring about a shift. Long months of grueling combat in Gaza didn’t bring about a shift. Protracted brawls over the Supreme Court’s authority, Haredi draft evasion, Netanyahu’s trial, dubious ties with Qatar and all the other dramas – big and small, real and fabricated – none of these have meaningfully moved voters from one bloc to another. This, too, must be taken into account. Because sometimes, the biggest election surprise is that everyone expects a surprise – and there isn’t one.Ìý

An Israeli worker prepares ballots and polling station equipment at the Central Elections Committee’s Logistics Center on October 14, 2026 in Shoham, Israel. (Photo by Amir Levy/Getty Images)

3. It’s worth paying attention to what is – or isn’t – happening to our “large” parties. They are quite small, or at least that’s how they appear in the polls even as Election Day draws near. Perhaps they will still manage to siphon off the mandates of the other parties within their respective blocs. If not, it could bring Israel to a situation where its two largest parties, combined, do not reach 40 seats out of 120.

In other words, it is entirely possible that the next Knesset will be more a parliament of medium-sized parties than a parliament of large parties flanked by satellite factions. Likud, Yashar and Beyachad will likely get more than 10 seats. But we cannot rule out the possibility that The Democrats, Otzma Yehudit, Yisrael Beiteinu and the Joint List will also secure over 10 seats. We might end up with a balance of power far more egalitarian – and far more complicated – than what we are used to.

4. The question of Arab sector turnout remains constantly on the agenda. Will 60% show up? Sixty-five percent? Seventy percent? Picture a Knesset with, say, 17 seats for Arab parties. That is not what current polling shows, but it is an entirely plausible surprise worth considering. Its impact would manifest in the following ways: A) It would make it exceedingly difficult for the blocs to reach 61 seats. B) It would make it very hard to forget or obscure the fact that the Arab public is an integral part of the State of Israel, one that must be taken into account when shaping its government and its policies. C) It would enable the Arabs to assist in executing a determined decision by the leaders of the Change Bloc – should such a decision be made – to evict Netanyahu from the Prime Minister’s Office. D) It would serve as the ultimate launching pad for the right-wing campaign ahead of the subsequent elections.

5. The Haredi sector is in distress. It is evident in the election campaign; it is evident in the streets. One could say, “They brought this distress upon themselves” –Ìý which is true. But one can also empathize with the profound difficulty of a large public forced to abruptly alter its way of life, and to suddenly accept a demand that will upend its routines. The Haredi politicians are massive cynics, undeserving of any special empathy. The masses of Haredi youth, however, are not cynics. They are young people who were raised and educated on a very specific path, who are now discovering that this path is blocked and who are hoping it might yet be opened again.

The elections will signal one of two possibilities to the Haredi sector. The first: hope that the path will indeed be reopened, whether because the coalition camp wins, or because it loses but the loss appears temporary until another imminent election. The second: an acknowledgment that the path will not be reopened, and that there is an absolute necessity to find an alternative route. The Haredi public and its leadership have demonstrated an impressive capacity for pragmatism in the past. If they understand that the world has fundamentally changed they will find a way to adapt to it. But this will only happen if the elections conclude not just with a victory, but with a governing coalition that projects stability.

Something I wrote in Hebrew

A decisive outcome at the ballot box might make us forget one crucial thing: the nation remains the same nation, the challenges remain the same challenges, the difficulty of getting along remains the same difficulty and the tribalism remains the same tribalism. Israeli society is struggling to break free from fundamental structural problems – some due to unavoidable circumstances, others due to leadership that has preferred to sharpen divides and foster polarization rather than bridge gaps and promote calm. If there is a winning camp – and it is by no means certain that there will be – it would do well to remember that an election victory is a means, not an end. It is the beginning of a process, not its conclusion. It is an opportunity to succeed – not success itself.

A week’s numbers

By next Friday, you’d know.

A reader’s response

Doris Azulay asks: “Does the Trump endorsement change anything?” My response: Less than Trump would like to think it does.


Shmuel Rosner is senior political editor. For more analysis of Israeli and international politics, visit Rosner’s Domain at .

Rosner’s Domain | No Surprise Is Also an Election Surprise Read More »

Lech Lecha: The Journey of Growth and the Process of Becoming

The story of Abraham begins with two extraordinary words: Lech Lecha — “Go forth.” God commands Abraham to leave his country, birthplace and father’s home, and journey toward a land He will show him. There is no map, detailed itinerary or certainty about what awaits him. Abraham is asked to leave the familiar and step into the unknown.

Yet Lech Lecha suggests more than a change of geography. It can also mean “Go to yourself.” The journey is not merely from one place to another, but from who we are to who we might become. Abraham is invited to discover a deeper version of himself, one that could never fully emerge within the assumptions and conventions of the world in which he was raised.

But Abraham’s story is more than the biography of one extraordinary individual. It is a microcosm of 91´«ý history and a reflection of every human life. Within his experiences we encounter the recurring themes of 91´«ý history: the journey toward Israel and the centrality of Zion, exile and return, danger and deliverance, war and peace, human error and correction.

Abraham leaves his homeland for the Promised Land, is driven by famine into Egypt and eventually returns. He confronts conflict, rescues his nephew in battle and experiences uncertainty, yet continues forward guided by divine promise. His journey anticipates that of his descendants, who would likewise experience exile and redemption, triumph and tragedy, displacement and homecoming. 91´«ý history is, in a profound sense, the continuing story of Lech Lecha — a people called to move forward, learn from its mistakes, renew its commitments and find its way home.

This is also one of Judaism’s most powerful insights into the human condition. We are not finished products, but works in progress, endowed with possibilities that may remain undiscovered unless we venture beyond the comfortable boundaries of our lives.

Each of us encounters moments when life presents its own Lech Lecha. We may need to relinquish a resentment, question an assumption, overcome a fear, repair a relationship or exchange the security of habit for the uncertainty of growth. The greatest journeys often require no physical movement at all. They take place within us.

The Comfort of Standing Still

Human beings are creatures of inertia. We seek stability, predictability and the comfort of what we know. These instincts serve an important purpose, but can become barriers to growth. We may remain attached to patterns of thinking and behaving long after they cease to serve us, simply because they are familiar.

Abraham’s greatness lay not merely in his willingness to travel, but in his courage to challenge the assumptions of his age. Raised in a world of idolatry, he refused to accept that what everyone believed must be true. He possessed the independence to question, the courage to disagree and the imagination to envision a different world.

A life governed entirely by habit may be comfortable, but comfort alone rarely produces meaning. We become more fully alive when we discover that we are capable of more than we imagined.

As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks observed, “Sometimes we have to give up our past in order to acquire a future.” The challenge is not to reject everything familiar. Judaism values continuity, tradition and the wisdom of generations. Rather, it asks us to distinguish between commitments that anchor us and habits that imprison us. We must know when to stand firm and when to move forward.

Becoming a Blessing

The Torah then adds an extraordinary declaration: Veheyeh Berachah — “And you shall be a blessing.”

These words transform the meaning of Abraham’s journey. His destination is not simply personal achievement, security or spiritual enlightenment. He is called to become a source of blessing to others.

This is central to the 91´«ý understanding of a meaningful life. We do not discover our highest purpose by concentrating exclusively on our own fulfillment. Paradoxically, we find ourselves most fully when we move beyond ourselves.

Abraham becomes the embodiment of chesed, loving-kindness. His home becomes a place of hospitality, his life a model of generosity and his concern extends even to strangers and those with whom he disagrees. The man commanded to leave his father’s home ultimately creates a spiritual home for humanity.

A life devoted exclusively to possessions, recognition or pleasure may provide happiness, but cannot satisfy our deeper hunger for meaning. That hunger is nourished when we become necessary to someone beyond ourselves, when our presence makes another person’s world brighter.

The Journey Without a Final Destination

There is another remarkable feature of God’s command. Abraham is told to travel el ha’aretz asher areka — “to the land that I will show you.” The destination is not revealed at the outset.

Perhaps this is because life’s most important journeys cannot be understood entirely before they begin. We discover possibilities through moving forward. Growth changes not only where we are going, but also the person making the journey.

Judaism does not envision human development as a single dramatic transformation. It is a lifelong process shaped by countless decisions, small acts of courage and repeated opportunities to choose a better path. Each day invites us to move beyond yesterday’s limitations.

Abraham reminds us that purpose is not certainty. We need not know where every decision will lead before taking the first step. Sometimes acting upon our deepest convictions is itself the beginning of wisdom.

In a world that measures success by what we accumulate, Abraham offers a different measure: not how much we possess, but how much we contribute; not how securely we preserve the familiar, but how courageously we pursue what is right; not simply what we achieve, but whom we become.

The Torah’s first words to Abraham are therefore not merely an ancient command addressed to one man. They are an enduring invitation to every generation and individual.

Lech Lecha. Go beyond the familiar. Discover the possibilities within you. Find the courage to grow. Above all, become a blessing.


Selwyn Gerber is Founder and Chief Strategist of RVW Wealth LLC.

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From Atop the Pulpit

I recently stepped down from the pulpit. No longer the sole rabbi of my beloved congregation, I am now, rabbi emeritus. Looking back on nearly four decades of service to Jews, and non-Jews, I cannot think of a more gratifying career.

The pulpit provides an exposure to life that runs the gamut: from birth to burial. Pulpit clergy — a term that describes religious leaders serving recognized houses of worship — are given the privilege to guide people from diverse backgrounds.

We sit with skeptics and cynics, believers in God and atheists, the unaffiliated and disillusioned, simplistic and sophisticated thinkers, emotionally needy and financially insolvent individuals — you name it.

Other professions focus primarily on one task. A lawyer specializes in a select segment of the law; a physician treats targeted illnesses, body parts or age groups; an educator teaches a particular subject, or grade level. Not so for pulpit clergy. We are the consummate generalists.

Hardly spectators observing life from the sideline, pulpit clergy actively engage and guide others through challenges and triumphs. We teach, touch and challenge. In the process, we ourselves grow into the demands of the pulpit.

We’re trained to heighten the beginnings of life with ceremonies sanctifying the birth of a newborn human being. Whether the child joins the family through adoption or shared genetics, pulpit clergy maintain that nascent life is more than a biological phenomenon.

We also support, and give guidance to those who wish to have children, but are unable, or simply prefer not to. We’re there for those who miscarry, or abort, regardless the reason.Ìý

We offer counsel to individuals, couples and families; probing beyond what’s functional or dysfunctional. We address what’s moral or immoral. To paraphrase the American humorist, Finley Peter Dunne, our task is to “comfort the afflicted, and to afflict the comfortable.”

Pulpit clergy challenge their congregants to prioritize what’s important. Weddings underscore the point. From start to finish, they are among the most joyous life-cycle events. The party, however, with all its details, commonly overshadows the core purpose of the gathering: to demarcate the start of a marriage and bless the couple in God’s name. Not the party.

At the other end of the life-cycle spectrum, is death and dying. Guiding someone through the loss of a loved one is exceedingly challenging, and vitally necessary.Ìý Long before Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’ five stages of mourning, pulpit clergy have escorted mourners through burial customs. They help the aggrieved assuage some of the sorrow, hurt or anger they might be feeling. Pulpit clergy offer direction and consolation.

The stark finality of death often compels one to reflect on timeless questions. Not uncommonly mourners will ask: Is this all there is to existence? Are good people rewarded, and evil ones punished?

If we knew for certain what ultimately happens to us after we die, life would be farcical. Something better awaits, especially when times get tough, hit the metaphoric “reset button.” The equivalent of ending one’s own life, and starting over again. Nothing beyond one’s existence? That too is problematic. How cruel: A wicked person’s destiny is no different than a good person’s? Even Franz Kafka would find that absurd.

These are just some of life’s mysteries touched on by pulpit clergy when sitting with heartbroken souls. Never more pressing than at a time of death and dying.

For all that pulpit life has to offer, the numbers of pulpit clergy in America continue to decline. Many reasons explain this falling-off. Pulpit clergy are aging out. Increasingly fewer students attend seminaries. Among those who do, fewer still commit to congregations.Ìý

Divinity graduate programs are expensive, and student loans accrue rapidly. The hours expected of pulpit clergy are nonstop, round-the-clock. More houses of worship are downsizing, merging or shuttering. Religious identity is waning; secularism’s growing. Religion is frequently viewed as parochial and stale.Ìý

Adding to the reasons underlying this downward spiral, are the clergy themselves. Invariably, they alienate some congregants by what they’ve said or failed to say; what they’ve done, or failed to do. Ironically, if pulpit clergy were loved by all, chances are, they’re not doing their job. In spite of their best efforts, pulpit clergy know well, organized religion doesn’t appeal to everybody, and those who reject affiliation are not bad people for doing so.

As much as organized religion embodies that which is eternal and transcendent, it’s in a constant state of flux. Evolution isn’t consigned solely to biologists. Religion evolves. So too does its understanding of God and life. New opportunities and challenges have always come and gone. But pulpit clergy with their years of training, education and perspective on life, generated from atop the pulpit, are especially well suited for whatever lies ahead. Of that, I remain confidently optimistic. ■

Michael Gotlieb is rabbi emeritus of Kehillat Ma’arav in Santa Monica.

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Abraham’s Lessons in Leadership on the Eve of Israel’s Elections

As we begin reading the story of Abraham in the weekly Torah portion, and as Israelis head toward the polls on Oct. 27, it is worth pairing the 91´«ý founding father with another foundational 91´«ý leader, David. As Rabbi David Silber argues in his recently published “Human Kingship: Studies in the Book of Samuel,” much can be gleaned by considering the two great heroes side-by-side.

Among the similarities he notes between Abraham and David’s tales are how they approach war. Abraham pursues the four kings who captured Lot and the people of Sodom (Genesis 14). David pursues the Amalekites who took the women and children of Ziklag (1 Samuel 30). The stories not only share a common theme: the syntax is similar in both as well. Each leader musters his men and gives chase, and each returns with everything that was taken. Abraham’s allies Aner, Eshkol and Mamre guarded the baggage while Abraham’s own servants went into battle. Yet Abraham insists they receive their share of the spoils. David, too, returns to find that 200 men had been too exhausted to cross the Wadi Besor, and the “worthless” among his fighters want to deny them a portion. David refuses, ruling that the share of those who stay with the baggage equals the share of those who go down to battle. The text then says he made this “a statute and an ordinance” in Israel.

Reading the two accounts together, Rashi suggests that David learned this lesson from Abraham. Rabbi Silber adds that the names and word choices in the stories seem to point to the purposeful echoes. Abraham is greeted by Melchizedek, whose name evokes tzedek, justice. He is met in the Valley of Shaveh, a place of equity. David’s decree is referred to as chok umishpat, law and judgment. For both figures, those who support the fighters in practical ways, even if they don’t fight themselves, have their roles to play in the success of the nation and should be fairly recognized for their contributions.

Rabbi Silber’s second observation stretches beyond the battlefield to inhabiting the land itself. Abraham defeats kings whose territory includes the Rephaim, the Emim, the Horites and the Amalekites, the ancient and giant peoples of Canaan. David, centuries later, fights these same nations under new names, and Goliath, famously slain by the young David, is described as one of these giants. In this sense, he suggests, the founder of the 91´«ý family, Abraham, begins the conquest of the land and David, who founded its eternal monarchical dynasty, completes it. Abraham captures Salem (Jerusalem) in symbolic anticipation of David’s later conquest.Ìý

Leadership, in other words, is a civic and societal relay. It is the role of those in charge to steward the national project toward its next stage of development.Ìý

Thirdly, both Abraham and David experience a crucial personal turning point that sanctifies what becomes a sacred place. In the binding of Isaac on Mt. Moriah, Abraham looks up and sees the ram that he sacrifices instead of his son. During the plague unintentionally sparked by his ill-intentioned census-taking, David looks up and sees the angel of vengeance with his sword drawn over Jerusalem. Shortly after the Akedah, Abraham refuses Ephron’s offer of a free cave and pays full price for what becomes known as the Cave of the Patriarchs. David tells Aravnah, at whose threshing floor the plague was paused, “I will buy it from you at a price,” setting the stage for the Temple to be built on the same mountain upon which Abraham and Isaac had ascended centuries earlier. As Silber summarizes: “both Abraham in the story of the binding of Isaac and David in the story of the census understood that they are mortal, finite human beings. They demonstrate their subservience before God and their awareness that ultimately it is God who decides. Abraham unquestioningly accedes to God’s commandment to sacrifice his son, and David accepts God’s punishment and recognizes that the people are not his own. This acknowledgment of human limitation is what allows for the revelation of divine mercy.”

Anyone who votes, or leads, then, would be wise to study the story of Abraham and David. Together they remind us of three key lessons: that a society only succeeds when all sectors see themselves as part of the national endeavor, that a strongly held sense of mission powers forward progress and that sacrifices are often necessary to fully appreciate both God’s grace and the sacredness of the land on which we dwell.


Rabbi Dr. Stuart Halpern is Associate Provost for Strategic Initiatives at Yeshiva University and Deputy Director of Y.U.’s Straus Center for Torah and Western Thought. His books include the newly released “91´«ý Roots of American Liberty,” “The Promise of Liberty: A Passover Haggada,” “Esther in America,” “Gleanings: Reflections on Ruth” and “Proclaim Liberty Throughout the Land: The Hebrew Bible in the United States.”Ìý

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A Different Kind of Tower

I’m not a huge fan of puns. They often seem forced, and sometimes they just make me groan.

But last week’s Torah portion, Noach, contained one in Hebrew that’s worth exploring.

After the story of Noah and his massive ark, we read about his descendants—a few genealogies, as is biblical custom.

And then we come to the story of the Tower of Babel. It’s only nine verses long, so it’s worth sharing the whole thing:

Everyone on earth had the same language and the same words. And as they migrated from the east, they came upon a valley in the land of Shinar and settled there. They said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks and burn them hard.”—Brick served them as stone, and bitumen served them as mortar.— And they said, “Come, let us build us a city, and a tower with its top in the sky, to make a name for ourselves; else we shall be scattered all over the world.” GOD came down to look at the city and tower that the mortals had built, and GOD said, “If, as one people with one language for all, this is how they have begun to act, then nothing that they may propose to do will be out of their reach. Let us, then, go down and confound their speech there, so that they shall not understand one another’s speech.” Thus GOD scattered them from there over the face of the whole earth; and they stopped building the city. That is why it was called Babel, because there GOD confounded the speech of the whole earth; and from there GOD scattered them over the face of the whole earth. (Genesis 11:1–9, JPS translation)

The pun appears in the final verse. The place where they built the tower is called Babel because there God confounded (balal) the speech of the whole earth.

Once, humanity spoke the same language. Everyone could understand everyone else. And somehow, it all changed. Not only do we now speak different languages, but we often struggle to understand one another even when we’re speaking the same language.

I don’t read this story literally. I don’t believe humanity once worked together to build a tower to heaven, only to have God intervene and cause people to speak different languages. Rather, I see this as an attempt by the biblical authors to explain an existing phenomenon: different peoples speak different languages. If we are all descendants of the same human family, how on earth did that come to be?

Our wise ancestors told a story to explain the world as they knew it, often with a wink. Why do we have such a hard time understanding one another? Because of our own overreach! We got a little too ambitious, decided to build a tower all the way to heaven, and God showed us what was what—mixing up our speech so that each language would sound like (forgive the pun) babble to everyone else.

I’ve been thinking about this ancient story, told by our ancestors thousands of years ago, in the context of an extraordinary conference I attended earlier this month: the National Convening of the Black-91´«ý Alliance in Chicago.

The gathering was sponsored by the , a nonprofit organization dedicated to forging a renewed Black-91´«ý covenant to help make our world a better place for all.

In August, I participated in a Black-91´«ý clergy summit in Atlanta that helped lay the groundwork for this larger gathering. The convening in Chicago brought together more than 200 clergy members, nonprofit leaders, student activists, facilitators, and trainers from across the country.

Ashagar Araro and Rabbi Yoshi

I had the honor of leading the spiritual opening of our full day of work alongside my colleagues Rabbi Sandra Lawson (Durham, NC) and Pastor Aramis Hinds (Detroit). Later, I participated in a panel with Pastor Carl Day (Philadelphia), Rabbi Matthew Gewirtz (Short Hills, NJ), and the Rev. Dr. David Jefferson, Sr. (Newark).

This is truly a national movement.

So what does the Tower of Babel have to do with the Black-91´«ý Alliance?

In one of our sessions, Exodus Leadership Forum founder Van Jones spoke about the importance of the language we use when we talk to and about one another—as Black people, as Jews, and as Black Jews.

Language matters. The words we choose matter. How we speak to one another—and about one another—can either strengthen relationships or tear them apart.

Van challenged us to think carefully about words that cause pain. Words like “genocide,” “apartheid,” and “colonization.” Words like “thug,” “welfare queen,” and “Black-on-Black crime.” (As Van pointed out, “Nobody ever talks about ‘white-on-white crime,’ do they?”)

Each of our communities has words that land on the other as wounds, often without the speaker ever realizing it.

This doesn’t mean we can’t criticize or challenge one another. It doesn’t mean avoiding difficult conversations or pretending our disagreements don’t exist. Quite the opposite. We need to be curious, willing to listen, and prepared to engage honestly. But we also need to recognize that words carry histories, associations, and wounds that may be different from our own.

Even when we speak the same language, there is so much room for misunderstanding and hurt.

And that’s where the ancient story of Babel feels especially relevant.

In the Torah, humanity builds a tower to make a name for itself. The project ends in confusion, division, and scattering.

The midrash finds an even deeper darkness in this story—not simply in the builders’ ambition, but in how they treated one another. So consumed were they by their desire to build a tower that would make a name for themselves that when a brick fell, the builders wept. But when a worker fell from the tower, no one even noticed. ()

But what if we could build a different kind of tower?

Not one built by people who all speak alike, but by people who speak differently and commit to understanding one another anyway. Not one built out of fear—though both our communities know what it means to feel threatened—but one built out of trust.

I left Chicago more convinced than ever that our communities can build something important and urgently needed together. Not a tower reaching toward heaven to glorify ourselves, but a tower grounded in justice and understanding, partnership and mutual support.

A tower built not to make a name for ourselves, but to make a difference in the world.

Of course, building something meaningful takes more than good intentions. It requires showing up for one another.

This Thanksgiving, I’ll be going to Compton to support Greater Zion Church Family’s annual turkey giveaway. Greater Zion, led by Bishop Michael Fisher, has been a close partner of Stephen Wise Temple for years. Our relationship has grown through shared worship, community service, difficult conversations, and even journeys to Israel together.

We’ll also be organizing more pulpit exchanges and opportunities for members of our communities to spend time together. These relationships cannot be sustained by clergy and organizational leaders alone. We need people to show up, get to know one another, and invest in the hard work of building trust.

But we don’t need to wait for a special event to begin building.

Every day, we can strengthen this partnership by remembering the extraordinary history we share: the Black-91´«ý alliance that stretches back to the founding of the NAACP; the Civil Rights Movement; Black churches standing with Soviet Jews in their struggle for freedom; and, more recently, the strong support of members of the Congressional Black Caucus for efforts to combat antisemitism and support Israel’s security.

Dr. Benjamin Chavis and Rabbi Yoshi

These are not trivial matters. They are chapters of a shared history worth celebrating and retelling. Too often, we focus on the moments when our communities have disappointed or misunderstood one another. Those moments are real, and we shouldn’t ignore them. But they are not the whole story.

We also have a remarkable legacy of standing together, taking risks for one another, and making this country better for our communities and for everyone else as well.

The Tower of Babel reminds us how easily language can divide us. Our shared history reminds us of what becomes possible when we find ways to understand one another.

There’s work to be done. Together.

Let’s listen. Let’s learn. Let’s dream. Let’s create. Let’s march together.

Let’s build a better world.


Rabbi Yoshi Zweiback is the Senior Rabbi of Stephen Wise Temple in Los Angeles and host of the podcast Search for Meaning with Rabbi Yoshi.

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