Local Jewish group in spotlight after terror plot from Yemen - Chicago Tribune

About two dozen members of the Congregation Or Chadash were enjoying their usual Friday evening dinner before services at their Edgewater neighborhood headquarters when they got the startling news that they were apparently the target of an international terrorist plot.

The small congregation for gay, lesbian, transgender and bisexual Jews that started with an alternative newspaper ad in 1976 had gotten used to a life of relative obscurity — too small with about 100 members to afford its own building or build much of a profile.

How a terrorist in Yemen who'd rigged printer cartridges with explosives would know who and where they are sparked as much puzzlement as fear, congregants said Saturday.

"I thought 'Wow, I didn't know we had such visibility,'" congregation member Marvin Levin said.

Pausing, he added: "I don't know that we want such visibility."

But that's what the tight-knit group got as federal officials announced Saturday that a woman in Yemen had been arrested in the alleged terrorist plot that sent several packages to the U.S. loaded with the industrial explosive, PETN.

Authorities have not said which two Chicago addresses the packages were mailed to, but a source told the Tribune both were Jewish congregations on the North Side, home to a thriving Jewish community. Chicago police Saturday said they were making increased checks in areas with a high number of synagogues, including Edgewater, Rogers Park and West Rogers Park.

Or Chadash has for seven years shared space on North Sheridan Road with another Jewish congregation, the Emanuel Congregation. The squat brick building yards from Lake Michigan also is home to a day school for about 140 children between kindergarten and seventh grade.

Or Chadash leaders said they learned that their group was an intended recipient of one of the Yemen packages from Emanuel's Rabbi Michael Zedek.

"It was just a surprise," said Rabbi Larry Edwards of Or Chadash. "When I was first hearing news (about the packages), I assumed there were probably bigger targets. We're a small congregation. Either we were selected at random or it's because we're a mostly gay congregation."

Or Chadash, which is officially aligned with the Union of Reform Judaism, began after somebody placed an ad in a local paper in 1976, seeking to meet with like-minded gay and lesbian Jews, Levin said.

"At that time, it was probably one of the few places gay and lesbian Jews could openly worship in the area," he said. "Today, there are many more options, and some people like to be part of a congregation that's more mainstream, while others like to worship with people like themselves."

Over the years, the group has expanded to include Jews from more traditional backgrounds, said Bill Wahler, the group's co-president. With Edwards working part time, volunteers frequently conduct services to lend a diversity of perspectives to how they practice their faith, he said.

Until now, Or Chadash had never received threats of violence, Edwards said.

While Or Chadash members vowed Saturday against letting the threat affect their how they operate, members of the Emanuel Congregation reacted with a mix of weary humor and sadness over the idea that harm might have come to students at the day school.

"There is nothing shocking in (the threat)," Zedek said during a service Saturday punctuated by the whir of a high-speed camera shutter emerging from the cadre of media at the synagogue's rear. "We're heartbroken. But realistically, as well, one lives in this world."

"The real tragedy of this is if it caused us to hate," said Shifra Werch, an Emanuel congregant.

Considering the day's school children, Zedek spoke of his own grandchildren during the service.

"It does pain me, the kind of world that we're leaving for them," he said.

Tribune reporters Caroline Kyungae Smith and Jeremy Gorner contributed.

jebyrne@tribune.com

dlhinkel@tribune.com

View the original article here

Jewish voters don't reflexively back Rahm Emanuel for Chicago mayor - Chicago Tribune

Some might assume that the idea of a Rahm Emanuel candidacy for mayor would be cause for celebration along Devon Avenue, the longtime rialto of Chicago's Jewish community.

After all, Emanuel attended an Orthodox synagogue before going from Chicago to the White House, and his family is highly respected in West Rogers Park, where his father, Benjamin, was a pediatrician. The numbers of those who say Dr. Emanuel took care of their kids is roughly similar to the legion that claimed to have witnessed Babe Ruth point to the Wrigley Field bleachers and hit that famed home run.

But Rahm Emanuel, who begins his Chicago "listening tour" this week, is about to discover that all politics aren't local.

In the Jewish neighborhoods on the Far North Side, Rahm Emanuel is more associated with what he did in Washington than what he might do in Chicago's City Hall.

"There are questions about his positions on Israel," said Chesky Montrose, 32, who was wearing a skull cap and pushing one child in a stroller while keeping an eye on two others bicycling down Devon. "It's not logical that international policy would influence a race for mayor. But there is some resentment here, no doubt."

There was rejoicing along Devon on Friday because it was Simchat Torah, a festive celebration of the divine laws Moses received on behalf of the ancient Israelites. But there also were questions about Emanuel timing his White House farewell announcement for that day.

"On yontif?" said Montrose, using the Yiddish for the holiday.

During the run-up to Simchat Torah, it's traditional for Jews to take their meals in a sukkah, an improvised hut like their ancestors dwelled in during their wandering years in the deserts of Sinai. A fast-food restaurant on Devon provides customers with a sukkah.

With rituals marking their forebears' exiles, it's hardly a wonder Jews fret over modern-day Israel. Obama got a huge percent of Jewish voters, many of whom assumed Emanuel would give voice to their concerns as chief of staff, noted Cheryl Jacobs Lewin, Chicago co-chair of Americans for a Safe Israel.

"That has not happened, judging by the White House's heavy-handedness toward Israel," Lewin said in an e-mail.

A spokeswoman for Emanuel said Sunday he is a strong backer of Israel.

"Rahm's support for Israel is well known, and he had many supporters in the Jewish community when he represented a half-million Chicagoans in Congress. But he takes nothing for granted and will work to earn the support of every voter in communities across the city," said Lori Goldberg, Emanuel's spokeswoman.

Another person leery of Emanuel on the Israel issue is Norm Levin, who said, "I used to be a devout Democrat."

Levin is president of the Great Vest Side Club, an alumni association of the West Side neighborhood that was once the epicenter of Chicago's Jewish community. (The pronunciation "vest" commemorates the immigrant accent of members' parents.)

"I like to vote for Jewish people," Levin said. "But if they're sort of negative on Israel, they lose me."

Yet that very quality could be a plus for Emanuel among lakefront liberals, many of them secular Jews uncomfortable with a right-leaning Israeli administration.

"I'm sort of hostile to Israel," said James Alter, a founding father of independent politics in Chicago.

He and his late wife, Joanne Alter, also Jewish and a Metropolitan Water Reclamation District trustee, made their Lakeview home a longtime clubhouse for anti-machine activists.

Even so, there are other issues on which liberals clash with Emanuel, said political consultant Don Rose, who is Jewish, a reigning guru of the independent movement.

"We progressives found him unresponsive as a congressman when we wanted him to speak out against the Iraq war," Rose said.

Then there could be a linguistic problem attached to an Emanuel candidacy. Jews think of a Jew in the public eye as representing all of them with his or her behavior, said Chayim Knobloch, a rabbi and proprietor of the Kol Tuv supermarket on Devon.

Emanuel is famous for peppering his conversations with swearing, while Jews have a longstanding caution: "Don't make a shandah for the goyim" — be aware of your behavior in gentile company.

"So I have a small request," Knobloch said. "Rahm should watch his language."

rgrossman@tribune.com

View the original article here