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The Jewish Press

(Founded in 1920)

Margie Gutnik

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Annette van de Kamp-Wright

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Richard Busse

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Susan Bernard

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Lori Kooper-Schwarz

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Gabby Blair

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Jewish Press Board

Margie Gutnik, President; Abigail Kutler, Ex-Officio; Danni Christensen; David Finkelstein; Bracha Goldsweig; Mary Sue Grossman; Les Kay; Natasha Kraft; Chuck Lucoff; Joseph Pinson; Andy Shefsky and Amy Tipp. The mission of the Jewish Federation of Omaha is to build and sustain a strong and vibrant Omaha Jewish Community and to support Jews in Israel and around the world. Agencies of the Federation are: Community Relations Committee, Jewish Community Center, Center for Jewish Life, Jewish Social Services, and the Jewish Press. Guidelines and highlights of the Jewish Press, including front page stories and announcements, can be found online at: wwwjewishomaha.org; click on ‘Jewish Press.’ Editorials express the view of the writer and are not necessarily representative of the views of the Jewish Press Board of Directors, the Jewish Federation of Omaha Board of Directors, or the Omaha Jewish community as a whole. The Jewish Press reserves the right to edit signed letters and articles for space and content. The Jewish Press is not responsible for the Kashrut of any product or establishment.

Editorial

The Jewish Press is an agency of the Jewish Federation of Omaha. Deadline for copy, ads and photos is: Thursday, 9 a.m., eight days prior to publication. E-mail editorial material and photos to: avandekamp@jewishomaha.org; send ads (in TIF or PDF format) to: rbusse@jewishomaha.org.

Letters to the Editor Guidelines

The Jewish Press welcomes Letters to the Editor. They may be sent via regular mail to: The Jewish Press, 333 So. 132 St., Omaha, NE 68154; via fax: 1.402.334.5422 or via e-mail to the Editor at: avandekamp@jewishomaha. org. Letters should be no longer than 250 words and must be single-spaced typed, not hand-written. Published letters should be confined to opinions and comments on articles or events. News items should not be submitted and printed as a “Letter to the Editor.” The Editor may edit letters for content and space restrictions. Letters may be published without giving an opposing view. Information shall be verified before printing. All letters must be signed by the writer. The Jewish Press will not publish letters that appear to be part of an organized campaign, nor letters copied from the Internet. No letters should be published from candidates running for office, but others may write on their behalf. Letters of thanks should be confined to commending an institution for a program, project or event, rather than personally thanking paid staff, unless the writer chooses to turn the “Letter to the Editor” into a paid personal ad or a news article about the event, project or program which the professional staff supervised. For information, contact Annette van de KampWright, Jewish Press Editor, 402.334.6450.

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The Jewish Press (USPS 275620) is published weekly (except for the first week of January and July) on Friday for $40 per calendar year U.S.; $80 foreign, by the Jewish Federation of Omaha. Phone: 402.334.6448; FAX: 402.334.5422. Periodical postage paid at Omaha, NE. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to: The Jewish Press, 333 So. 132 St., Omaha, NE 68154-2198 or email to: jpress@jewishomaha.org.

Gift-Anxiety

ANNETTE VAN DE KAMP-WRIGHT

Jewish Press Editor

Can you believe Hanukkah is almost here? I can’t. As I’m writing this, there are a million things to do and not enough time. Life has been getting frantic again, something I vowed I wouldn’t let happen after COVID-19. This was a chance to learn, I thought; we don’t have to be this busy all the time. I forgot that the reason we are busy is because we have rich, full lives with many opportunities to do, feel and experience good things—and people. It’s hard to say no. But when getting ready for a holiday feels stressful, we’re doing something wrong. I know exactly what it is I’m personally messing up: Hanukkah gifts. They are not necessary for a good holiday experience, yet, I long ago bought into the giftgiving fun. Show me some glitter and shiny bows, and I’m yours. Finding the right presents, picking out a color scheme for the wrapping and making each present as decorative as possible is my favorite part of Hanukkah—and what makes me the most anxious. Did I buy the right things? How many days are left? Did I spend the same on both kids so it’s not unfair? Will they like it or will they think I’m clueless? Is a really cool T-shirt okay, or will that fall under ‘Yuck-I-got-clothes-for-Hanukkah?’ Have I missed any hints? And before you think my kids are monsters, all of this is in my own head. I have gift-anxiety. My presents need to be perfect. When my kids unwrap something, they should be ecstatic, they should be surprised, they should be so, so happy and remember the moment forever. Seriously, if you’re not crying tears of joy, I’m already searching for the receipt. I feel this way every birthday too, and frequently find myself wishing my kids were still toddlers. Back then, gifts were easy. Well, except for the super-cool roaring dinosaur that scared my son so much when he opened the box, he avoided it for years. But, you know, that was an exception. The question is, if picking out gifts stresses me out this much, why still do it? I’m not sure I know. Part habit, I guess; part not being able to pass up the chance to spoil my kids. I mean, eight nights, eight opportunities to make their day. I could buy seven really dumb presents and still come out a winner. Where did all this start? Doesn’t it all make things a little too similar to Christmas? Hanukkah gifts are not traditional, they only were added later under pressure from the majority culture. Americans in general go a little nutty during this season, (hello, black Friday) and only in America do Jews give gifts for Hanukkah. Rabbi Menachem Creditor is the scholar in residence at the UJA-Federation of New York. In a 2019 article in Time Magazine, he said: “[Parents] saw that [giving gifts] was a way of creating joy around the time of Hanukkah. I think it wasn’t to be like Christmas, it was so that Jewish children would have joy on Hanukkah. I know it sounds like a narrow difference, but the distinguishing factor is, we didn’t want to do Christmas — we wanted to have joy.” Which, of course, opens up a whole new can of worms. What, we can’t have joy without materialistic things? The neurotic way I behave around the whole gift-giving conundrum makes me think I could be more joyful without presents. Of course, the moment those words are out of my mouth, I regret them. Hanukkah without presents is like latkes without sriracha, like hummus without Creole seasoning, like Shabbat dinner without cheese: it’s not who we are as a family. And so we’ll do things the way we’ve always done them and I’ll drive the whole family a little crazy. After all, there are worse things than a mother with gift-anxiety. Have I told you what Pesach is like at our house?

How moving to Denmark, a country with few fellow Jews, strengthened my Jewish identity

REBECCA NACHMAN

This article originally appeared on Alma Growing up, one of my favorite books was Number the Stars, Lois Lowry’s middle-grade novel about Denmark’s effort to smuggle its Jewish citizens to Sweden during World War II. The operation, which saved 7,220 of Denmark’s 7,800 Jews, has been remarkable to me since I first read about it: while other European countries gave in to antisemitic propganda and followed Hitler’s rule, Denmark resisted. A common explanation today is that Danes didn’t see their Jewish neighbors as “others” — they were just as Danish as anyone else. Why wouldn’t they help their fellow Danskere? Almost 80 years after the rescue of the Danish Jews, I moved to Copenhagen for grad school. Today, Denmark’s Jewish population stands at around 6,000 members, most of whom are congregated in the greater Copenhagen area. Coming from the Boston area, which is home to 248,000 Jews, and having attended Brandeis University, a historically Jewish college known for its robust Jewish population, landing in a country with such a small Jewish population was a big adjustment. But to my surprise, I preferred it. Growing up, my family attended a Reform synagogue, I went to Jewish summer camp and Hebrew school, and I had a bat mitzvah — but the whole time, I felt like I was just going through the motions. At no point did I feel any sort of Jewish community, nor did I feel the need for one. Plenty of my friends and teachers were Jewish, my classmates knew about Jewish holidays, and there is no shortage of Jewish delis and Judaica stores in Greater Boston. Being Jewish wasn’t something I consciously thought about because it was so normalized in my setting. But in Denmark, I’m often the first Jewish person someone has (knowingly) met. The Evangelical Lutheran Church is the national religion, but Denmark is overall an extremely atheistic country, with most people not being involved in any form of religious life. Here, I’ve had to make an effort to meet other Jews, and in doing so, I found an amazing Jewish community. Despite Denmark’s small Jewish population, there’s an official Jewish community, Det Jødiske Samfund, a Jewish museum, an Orthodox synagogue, a Reform synagogue, a Chabad house, a Jewish elementary school, youth groups and an annual cultural festival. There’s even a Jewish-Muslim biker club (yes, you read that right) that works to combat antisemitism and Islamophobia in Denmark and create mutual understanding between the two religious minorities. And this year, Copenhagen will host a gathering of Jewish young adults from all over Scandinavia. Whether it’s services at the Reform synagogue, challah baking at Chabad, or Shabbat dinner with the Jewish youth movement at the Great Synagogue, I’m never at a loss for Jewish events to attend. I appreciate that the community isn’t strictly divided by denomination — I see the same familiar faces no matter which synagogue or organization I go to. While I never felt like I found my place in Greater Boston’s fragmented Jewish population, I immediately felt welcome in Jewish Denmark. When we’re such a small minority (only 0.1% of the population), the need for a community is more pressing. Having to deliberately seek out Jewish life has made the connections I’ve forged all the more special. Danish society is notoriously hard for foreigners to integrate into, but through the Jewish community I’ve been able to make Copenhagen feel like home. Of course, this isn’t to say that being Jewish in Denmark is always idyllic. In 2014 the Jewish school was vandalized, and in 2015 a terrorist attacked the Great Synagogue. I personally haven’t experienced antisemitism here, but I know that my experience as a recent transplant is different from those of Jewish Danes who have spent their lives here, and from those who more clearly present as Jewish. That

being said, I still feel significantly safer as a Jew here than I did in the U.S. (I have yet to hear a Dane compare vaccines to the Holocaust, baruch Hashem). I still think of Number the Stars often, especially when I’m at the same synagogue that the Jewish characters attended, or when I walk past a site that Copenhagen, Denmark. Credit: Marco Bottigelli/Getty Images was mentioned in the book. I have no Danish heritage, so I’m not personally connected to the rescue of the Danish Jews. But, as schmaltzy as it sounds, I feel a sense of poetic beauty in finding a Jewish home in the same tiny Scandinavian country that came together to save thousands of us so many years ago.

Rebecca Nachman is Global Health master’s student at the University of Copenhagen.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.

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AMI EDEN

New York Jewish Week via JTA Hey Yeshiva University fans, your high-flying basketball team needs you to step up! Fans showed up Tuesday night at the Max Stern Athletic Center in Washington Heights expecting a 41st straight win from the Yeshiva University Maccabees and plenty of “oohs” and “ahhs” from the team’s high-voltage motion offense. They got what they came for — it just took a little while. The team struggled out of the gate against College of Mount Saint Vincent, with sloppy passing, missed shots and defensive lapses. Nothing was falling for the dynamic duo of Ryan Turell and Gabriel Leifer. Luckily for the Macs — and their #2 ranking and the longest current winning streak in men’s college basketball — Eitan Halpert was on fire from 3-point range. Even his misses were paying off: At the end of the first half, his last-second corner 3 was in and out, but Turell swooped in from the opposite side for an above-the-rim put-back that sent Y.U. to the locker room with a 38-35 lead — and momentum despite their first-half struggles. In the second half, the Macs came out with dominating defense — and nothing could save the opposing Dolphins. Final score: 81-49 (that’s 43-14 in the second half). “I loved our second half energy and defense,” Y.U. coach Elliot Steinmetz said. “In a game where we didn’t shoot the ball well, it was good to see our defense carry the day.” Steinmetz has turned Y.U. basketball into a top-level Division III program, with a winning system and a roster packed with smart and talented players — and a real shot at winning a national championship. The team is attracting national attention. But now the fans have to do their part. Sure, they love their Macs, and they get jazzed up over a big block, slam or 3pointer. But overall, the crowd Tuesday night felt disorganized and lacked creativity. Where are the original chants — something beyond the predictable “Dee-fense”? Maybe, “Frum Jews can jump”? Or, “We can boogie, we can fight, we don’t ball on Friday night”? Or how about singing, after every Turell big play: “Ry-an, melekh yisrael, chai chai vekayam”? A few signs would be nice. And maybe some nicknames: Jordan Armstrong, a grad student new to the team, who already played three seasons at Oberlin as an undergrad, should hereby be known as The Matrix (if you check out his photo and don’t get it, you’re definitely not ready for the red pill). Oh, and something, anything, with latkes for goodness’ sake. In short: Watching this Macs team should feel more like bigtime soccer (sans the fighting and racism) and less like a yeshiva high school game. One person you can’t blame is Turell’s mom. She’s up out of her seat, trying to organize the fans in some chants throughout the game. But, come on, Y.U. fans. She needs some help out there.

A few additional notes from the game:

• Pretty certain 6-foot-7 Turell became the first player in Y.U. history to bump his head on the side of the backboard, courtesy of a lob gone wrong. Don’t worry, he seemed fine — his

Eitan Halpert brings the ball up court at home in Yeshiva University's win over Eastern

Connecticut State, Nov. 10, 2021. Credit: Y.U. kippah may have cushioned the blow. • It was actually Turell’s second blown alleyoop of the game, the other being a difficult back-to-the-basket put-in that rolled out just as the fans were about to explode. • Even on an off-shooting night (just five points and several missed open looks), Leifer was finding ways to control the game (12 rebounds, nine assists, four steals). • Speaking of Jews who can jump: Ofek Reef. • Adi Markovich has more hustle than Bernie Madoff.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.

Yeshiva University guard Ofek Reef can fly, and sports a dazzling hairstyle. Credit: Y.U.

SENIOR LIVING