At Moishe House, Jews explore Judaism at their own pace

NEW ORLEANS — It was still early in the evening; the potluck dinner of quiche, pasta and wine was spread out in the living room of the comfortable house when one of the guests, Sami Slovy, ritually lit two candles to welcome the Jewish Sabbath. Two dozen guests watched, almost all young adults — some […]

NEW ORLEANS — It was still early in the evening; the potluck dinner of quiche, pasta and wine was spread out in the living room of the comfortable house when one of the guests, Sami Slovy, ritually lit two candles to welcome the Jewish Sabbath.


Two dozen guests watched, almost all young adults — some Jewish, some not. The Friday night mood was relaxed, the dress way informal: shorts welcome; shoes optional.

Gill Benedek, 24, a resident of the house, and thus one of the hosts for the evening, led those who knew the Hebrew prayer in a slightly rusty version of the kiddush, another Sabbath welcoming ritual. About half the group chanted with him; the rest watched quietly.

Most, but not all, were young newcomers to New Orleans. They were twenty-somethings like Benedek. Like him, many had gotten a taste of the city on early, post-Katrina relief trips and decided to come back after college and invest a few years of serious help. They were planners, nonprofit workers, law students and teachers.

And where they gathered this recent Friday night was a place called Moishe House, a rambling rented house in this city’s Broadmoor neighborhood with an inviting porch overlooking the street, a pool table in the den and a resident dog named Josie.

Over the past year Benedek and two roommates, Jon Graboyes and Jeff Prussack — joined for the summer by Esther Sadoff — have gradually sought to make Moishe House a social and professional nexus for young Jewish adults who have moved to New Orleans to help the city’s recovery. In doing so, they’ve created a low-key, no-pressure zone where visitors can explore their Jewishness at their own pace.

But the place is more than that, as well.

While it hosts monthly Sabbath potluck socials and lectures on Jewish thought, the Moishe House community also has pre-Jazzfest and Mardi Gras breakfasts, as well as outdoor movie nights for all the neighbors. And it offers the house as a meeting place where activists can continue plotting the recovery of their Broadmoor neighborhood.

Its agenda points in two directions, outward and inward.

“Central to our mission is a focus on the Broadmoor neighborhood and Jewish culture and religion,” says the Moishe blog.

The New Orleans Moishe House is one in a web of similarly named communities that began taking shape three years ago in Oakland, Calif.


They are named after the philanthropist, Morris “Moishe” Squire, who underwrote the initial concept, which now includes similar houses in 18 American cities and seven countries.

Supported by donors who underwrite a portion of the rent, Moishe Houses are conceived as autonomous centers where young Jewish adults can live together and reach out to young peers who, often like themselves, are only barely connected to Judaism.

“The idea is to create young, vibrant Jewish communities,” said founder David Cygielman, who conceived the idea as a college student and sold Squire on the concept.

“But within that we work really hard to allow them the independence and freedom to do it in a way that feels right for them and their community.”

In New Orleans, that means the Moishe House community is steeped in the Katrina recovery.

Benedek, Graboyes and Prussack — none is over 26 — are post-Katrina New Orleanians from Massachusetts, Pennsylvania and California. All work in nonprofits rebuilding the community. All want Moishe House to be of service to that goal.


All are Jewish as well, although as recently as college none considered himself particularly observant.

Benedek said he first heard about Moishe House after meeting Cygielman at a conference in Los Angeles in 2007.

Although a native of Israel, Benedek grew up in the United States. He said he had been exposed to Judaism all his life, but could hardly be said to be passionate about it.

The possibility of founding a Moishe House in New Orleans intrigued him.

“I thought, how much social action can I do? And how Jewish can I comfortably be?”

To Benedek and his colleagues, it’s important to keep Moishe House strongly oriented toward the Jewish vision of social justice, yet religiously low-key, welcoming, obligation-free.

“Can I help create a Jewish community I’d want to be a part of? Can you have an enterprise that doesn’t beat you over the head; where you don’t have to be at this event, or the next event?”


Although speakers like Rabbi Uri Topolosky of Congregation Beth Israel occasionally give talks at the house on some element of Jewish life or thought, all are welcome, and young Jews who drop in to Moishe House events aren’t recruited into synagogues or other Jewish institutions.

“We do Moishe House for people of this age because we want to help them find meaning in having a Jewish home and connecting to a Jewish community,” Cygielman said. “But how they do that is up to them.”

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Last year Moishe members built a makeshift shelter, called a sukkah, on the lawn of the Rosa Keller Branch Library.

Building a sukkah is part of the celebration of Sukkot, the Jewish autumn harvest festival. But this sukkah was more like a raggedy public pavilion for all comers on South Broad Street.

For eight days this sukkah was a public gathering place outside the library. Children painted tiles to decorate it. A documentary on Southern Judaism was projected on its walls. In the spirit of the festival, the Moishe community organized to gut a damaged home in Broadmoor, Benedek said.

The sukkah may have been Jewish, but Benedek said the Moishe House community wanted to give it some extra pop to jazz up its eye appeal.


So they strung it with Christmas lights, the better to attract the neighbors.

“Whatever works,” Benedek shrugged.

(Bruce Nolan writes for The Times-Picayune in New Orleans.)

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