David Stav, the chief rabbi candidate, had to walk a fine line when he addressed a crowd of Tel Aviv immigrants in English on Sunday.
Greek police are investigating the neo-Nazi Golden Dawn party after some of its members were filmed threatening to turn immigrants “into soap” and put them in “ovens.”
The explosion occurred close enough to Stesyahu Alema to shake his apartment, where he sat with his wife and two of his five children.
Eleven Israeli citizens were arrested in Canada for allegedly working illegally there.
When David Weinstein went to summer camp many years ago, the Jewish world was animated by the campaign to free Soviet Jewry.
An Israeli immigrant from the former Yugoslavia has been arrested for alleged involvement in Bosnian genocide. Aleksander Cvetkovic, 42, who moved to Israel and obtained citizenship in 2006 with his Jewish wife and their children, is accused of involvement in the 1995 Srebrenicia massacre in which Bosnian Serb forces shot and killed 8,000 Muslim men and boys.
There is a new threat to Israel, although the people raising it are entirely innocent. The threat is represented by a growing population of African refugees, mainly escapees from the hellish dictatorships of Eritrea and Sudan, who are pouring over the Egyptian border into Israel and settling in some of the country’s poorer neighborhoods, especially in Tel Aviv. They’re now coming at the rate of more than 1,000 each month, according to recent government statements. In summer 2006, when the presence of these new immigrants first gained public notice, the State Attorney’s office numbered them at fewer than 200. Then, they were strictly a humanitarian concern. And this continues to be so: The people from Darfur and Southern Sudan have fled annihilation; those from Eritrea fled war, lifetime military conscription and persecution. A substantial proportion of refugees from both places were tortured along the way, many of the women have been gang raped by their Sinai Bedouin guides, and all the refugees dodged brutal imprisonment or death at the hands of Egyptian border guards.
After living in Iran for more than a century, witnessing the rise and fall of three kings and the upheaval of an Islamic revolution 30 years ago, 102-year-old Heshmat Elyasian arrived in Los Angeles two months ago with her immediate family to become the oldest Jewish immigrant from Iran to resettle in Los Angeles.
Of the approximately 4,500 Ethiopian Israelis who have earned university degrees, fewer than 15 percent have found work in their professions, according to a recent study. Instead, most end up working temporary public-sector jobs serving the Ethiopian Israeli community, remaining disconnected from the larger professional Israeli workforce.
Isaias Hellman was arguably the single most powerful and influential Jew in the United States from the last quarter of the 19th century until his death in 1920
In an interview, the Moscow-born author, who immigrated to the United States at the age of 7, admits that she, too, has a lingering Russian soul. Her well-written and very enjoyable first novel recasts Tolstoy, as its title suggests, observing immigrants from the former Soviet Union, body and soul.
As an "accidental Mexican" born to an Eastern European family, author and essayist Ilan Stavans has hurdled critics to become one of the nation's foremost commentators on Latino culture. As a Mexican American, he has written widely on immigration, the clash and fusion of languages and the quest for acceptance.
In Israel, the "non-Jewish Jews," as some Israelis call them, are everywhere. They drive buses, teach university classes, patrol in army jeeps and follow the latest Israeli reality TV shows as avidly as their Jewish counterparts. For these people -- mostly immigrants from the former Soviet Union who are not Jews according to Israeli law -- the question of where they fit into the Jewish state remains unanswered nearly two decades after they began coming to Israel.
Philanthropist Hubert Leven, a French Ashkenazi Jew who recently visited Los Angeles, has ties to the close-knit Iranian Jewish community that go back four generations.
Over the last several years, in anticipation of the voyage's 60th anniversary, survivors of the Exodus have been asked to share their stories in an effort to solidify Exodus' place in history, before all that is left are the fictionalized and romanticized versions of the 1958 Leon Uris novel or the 1960 Otto Preminger film (and even those are already being forgotten). Among the recent projects are "Exodus 1947," a 1997 documentary film by Venice resident Elizabeth Rodgers, and a new release of journalist Ruth Gruber's account of the voyage, "Exodus 1947: The Ship that Launched a Nation" (October 2007, Union Square Press).
Ronit Heyd, joined by Ilana Litvak, who came to Israel from the former Soviet Union, and Nidal Abed El Gafer, a Palestinian lawyer, were in Los Angeles last week as three "connected" Israelis, working to empower their country's underprivileged and raise the level of civic involvement. Their presence at a roundtable was sponsored by the New Israel Fund (NIF), which has just raised its Los Angeles profile by reestablishing a local office, after a four-year hiatus.
For Israeli immigrants like Giladi, 27, and Shachar, 30, there are a variety of reasons why saying "I do" so far from their birthplace is preferable. Financial and logistical considerations can play a major role in the decision, but another important factor is the immigration status of the couple. Some Israelis work and live in Los Angeles without proper government authorization from the United States.
It's 8 p.m. on a Wednesday, and I'm at the studios of KIRN -- a Persian-language AM radio station on Barham Boulevard near Universal Studios. I'm a guest on a program called "Live From Hollywood."
If Israel goes ahead and sends 1,000 southern Sudanese refugees back to live under the Pharaoh, after what they went through in Sudan, then once and for all we Jews ought to get off our high horse about how "the world stood silent" when we needed help.
Maya Nahor learned she wasn't Jewish from an Israeli bureaucrat.
n recent years, sporadic acts of anti-Semitism have hit Israel, most of them carried out by disaffected immigrant youths from the former Soviet Union (FSU). Although the youths came to Israel under the Law of Return, they are among those who identify not as Jews but as ethnic Russians. Under Israel's Law of Return, a cornerstone of Israel's identity as a haven for all Jews, anyone with a Jewish parent or grandparent is permitted to immigrate and be granted citizenship.
Exactly 80 years after Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti were sentenced to death in Boston on April 9, 1927, a documentary on the trial that shook the world is opening in American theaters.
For the film's characters and design, Kenan at times drew on his own childhood memories of creepy houses and neighbors. When he lived in Ramat Gan, he says there was a dark, shuttered house across the street from his family's apartment; a weird woman sometimes shouted from within.
Ever since she was a little girl, Portnyansky dreamed of coming to the United States. "My parents used to get a magazine called Amerika. It had photos and articles about the U.S. In my mind I was already there, from the first grade." The opportunity came in 1991, during the last throes of the Soviet Union: She received an invitation from the U.S government to do a concert tour.
According to statistics compiled by the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), during 2004 alone, 540 Israelis were deported or about to be deported. If that many Israelis were caught, it stands to reason that there are many thousands more -- in Los Angeles as well as the rest of the United States -- who have not yet been located by authorities.
Especially during the McCourts' first year of ownership, the Times sports section for the most part depicted Jamie and Frank McCourt, the latter known by Simers as the parking lot attendant, as carpetbaggers who have little interest in or knowledge of Los Angeles, social climbers who lack the financial resources to run the team and public relations novices.
Bryan Singer's first real understanding of evil came when, as a boy of 9 or 10, he dressed up as a Nazi one day while playing a World War II game with his German neighbors in Princeton Junction, N.J. He came home wearing a swastika.
Singer's mother admonished him, but it wasn't until a few years later, when his junior high school teacher, Miss Fiscarelli, taught an entire unit in social studies on the Holocaust, that he gained a greater understanding as to why his mother had been so troubled. That class changed Singer's "whole perception of what people are capable of anywhere," he said.
On April 7, 1944, Rudolf Vrba escaped from Auschwitz, one of very few to do so; he died last week at age 81, a professor of pharmacology at the University of Vancouver, British Columbia. Vrba once said that he spent 95 percent of his life on science and 5 percent on the Holocaust. It is worth considering the importance of that 5 percent and the controversy it engendered, which resonates to this day.
I was one of the half-million congesting downtown Los Angeles the weekend of the massive pro-immigrant rally. My mother, who also went along, did so because many of her friends were marching, and it was a great social occasion.
Although he became famous for graphic, sensationalist and emotionally raw photographs that simultaneously exaggerate and illuminate human folly, Weegee never forgot his Lower East Side roots as an immigrant Jew.
Reconnecting long-lost family often begins with a relative's random comment during a holiday gathering as generations gather around a dinner table.
The family of an Israeli immigrant killed by Burbank police is pursuing a $51 million wrongful-death claim against the cities of Burbank and Los Angeles. Assaf Deri, 25, died a year ago when Burbank undercover police officers shot him in an alley in North Hollywood.
Attorneys for the family said they filed their claim late last month, just prior to the one-year anniversary of Deri's death, but the filing could not be verified on Friday, when the family went public with the legal action.
At 3 a.m., when most Orange County residents are halfway through their slumber, Solomon Dueñas leaves Aliso Viejo and begins the 15-minute commute he's made nearly every morning since 1988.
David Milch's HBO Western series, "Deadwood," tells of a grimy mining town where drinking, whoring, killing, cussing and cheating are de rigeur.
When the nation's largest and oldest Mexican American civil rights group selected a new leader recently, the committee that recruited her included the organization's chairman, a man who is neither a Mexican American nor an immigrant. Meet Joe Stern.
The waitress at Canter's Deli looks vaguely annoyed as Aida Vedischeva makes herself at home in a back booth, spreading her memorabilia across the table.
The mix of Western and African culture at the Zamena club, one of a small number of discos that cater to Israel's young Ethiopian immigrant set, appears to be an extension of these young Ethiopians' experience in life in Israel, in general.
Some were born in Israel or came here as young children. Along with their parents, they made their way to Israel as part of the modern exodus-style airlifts of Operations Moses and Solomon in 1984-85 and 1991.
Victor M. Carter, who rose from poor immigrant boy to become a creator and shaper of the post-World War II Jewish community in Los Angeles, died March 27, at the age of 94.
Some years ago, folk diva Chava Alberstein discovered the rundown immigrant neighborhood around the south Tel Aviv central bus station. For the Israeli superstar, the area became a refuge, a place to stroll or sip coffee unmolested by fans. The residents were foreign workers from countries such as China, Thailand, Nigeria and Romania.
But as their numbers swelled to replace Palestinians after the intifada, Alberstein -- considered Israel's Joan Baez -- saw conditions deteriorating.
"These people are brought to Israel, their passports are confiscated so they can't go anywhere and they're forced to live in the worst situations," she said. "You see people crawling out of the most unbelievable hovels. It's bothered me for a long time."
Year after year I would walk up the pathway to Grandma Gussie's apartment, passing her kitchen window on the way to the door. I would hear the clanging of spoons, chopping of potatoes and vegetables or the tea kettle whistling on her tiny stove.
Julie Sandorf recalls her immigrant grandparents telling her that they learned to be Americans at the public library, where they improved their English and learned more about American culture.
Mariah Edry, sits on a wooden garden swing in the hot Israeli sun, lazily watching her three children on the playground of Beit Canada, a Jerusalem absorption center.
Yochai, one of her 2-year-old twins, chases a gray cat, while his sister, Emunah, climbs the slide ladder, crying for her bottle. Although the temperature has topped a sweltering 100 degrees, Edry, a newly arrived immigrant from North Hollywood, is happy that her children are outside.
Leon Uris, the novelist and screenwriter whose best-known works are "Exodus," a popular novel about Jews trying to establish modern Israel, and "Gunfight at the O.K. Corral," perhaps the archetypal Hollywood Western, died June 21 at his home on Shelter Island, N.Y. He was 78.
Birthright Israel hopes to send 1,000 participants this winter despite violence in the Middle East.
After World War II, when Japanese Americans were sent home from internment camps in Wyoming and Arizona, many found their lives had changed in untold ways. For Kenji Tanaguchi, his return to Boyle Heights -- an immigrant community east of the Los Angeles River -- was colored by what was no longer there: his family had returned to Japan, and he was left to fend for himself.
Minnie Brandt was raised in the poor section of Cleveland in the 1920s.
Floodwaters have forced some 150 Jewish immigrant families to evacuate their refugee home in Dresden.
Somewhere in the middle of the Israeli import "Late Marriage," a 12-minute sex scene unfolds between the main characters.
Like Budd Schulberg's "What Makes Sammy Run?" Phillip Roth's "Portnoy's Complaint" and other milestones of Jewish American literature, Will Eisner's "Name of the Game" explores the depths of Jewish self-loathing and assimilation. But what separates "Name" -- a tale chronicling two immigrant families that merge through marriage for social advancement and then suffer destructive consequences -- from the others, is that Eisner's work is a comic book.
David Tabari's evening on April 29 started out as just another post-Shabbat night on the town. He and his wife were dining at a Malibu restaurant with 14 other Persian Jewish couples, among them Moize Benjamin.
Reuben Dahan lives just down the block from his nearest synagogue. Yet every Shabbat, for the past seven years, Dahan, an Israeli immigrant who grew up in Petach Tikvah, has gone the extra mile, literally, to worship at a place he calls his spiritual home.
Millions of immigrants have flocked to the United States looking for streets paved with gold. Lenny Krayzelburg, who came to Los Angeles from Odessa, Ukraine, in 1988 is searching for gold as well - but in a pool at Sydney's Olympic Games.
The whole time Stacie Chaiken was growing up, nobody discussed her great-grandfather, Louie."My Grandpa Irving refused to speak about his father. Ever," says Chaiken, whose monologue, "Looking for Louie," is premiering at Pacific Resident Theatre.
Paul Koretz, a 44-year-old politician, owns up to an unusual distinction. He is the only member of the city council in the 15-year history of West Hollywood to have a wife and family at home.
Here's news you can use for Jewish Women's History Month: "Marjorie Morningstar" lives!
It is hard to write dispassionately about Ofra Haza, the Israeli pop icon who died last week at 41. She sang her fusion of Yemenite folk and '80s beat with intense, unabashed emotion. And she generated emotion in others.
I have been reading two books lately, sort of shifting from one to the other -- a bad habit, I know, but it has been with me too long to correct at this point.