Ometz is Hebrew for "resistance." I did not learn this word covering Palestinian resistance to Israeli occupation. I learned it in spin class in Jerusalem. Resistanceis what spin instructors call the tension you add to the bike to make the road steeper, to make the workout more intense. Exercising in a foreign language is a particular kind of challenge and thrill: maybe you mimic what the instructor is doing a bit more since you don't fully understand what she's saying, and in that way maybe you go a little deeper into the zone. Along the way you pick up a few words like ometz, a term that was apparently not on the vocabulary lists in Mrs. Metzger's Hebrew 5 class at Prozdor Hebrew High School in Boston, and never worked its way into the announcements during seven years at Camp Yavneh. Ometz I learned about from Ellen Grishman. 

I met Ellen my very first week living in Jerusalem in 2012, when I wandered into a spin class at Swan, a women's gym just off Emek Refaim. I was not a spinner, had not had any exercise routine to speak of for ages, but Ellen was infectious and inspirational. Tall, blonde, strong and smiling through sweat as Israeli pop hits pulsed through the playlist, she pushed you without you realizing it, teaching not only the word ometz but the meaning of working through it. I spun with Ellen every morning she taught, and for awhile had weekly personal-training sessions with her as well; I bought an outdoor bike from her husband's shop and rode in a couple races they were promoting; she was my fitness guru, and my friend. Swan closed, I moved back to the United States, but I still think about Ellen virtually every morning when I pull on my gym clothes, when I turn that ometz knob on my spin bike, when I sweat: she taught me how to exercise, why to exercise, what it takes to make change in your life, whatever that change may be.

Ellen died Tuesday in a bicycle accident. She and her husband were riding on back roads from Jerusalem to Beit Shemesh, a journey they'd made hundreds of times. He stopped to wait for her at the bottom of a hill and when she didn't come, he turned back. He found her in a heap with EMTs trying in vain to revive her; it's unclear what caused her fall. 

I knew only snippets of Ellen's life, snippets shared between situps and spin sessions. She grew up on St. Thomas, moved to Israel, became Haredi, married young, had four children, left the Haredi community, built a business, found new love. I learned upon her death that Ellen, who also used the last name Ben Chaim, was 55, and had four grandchildren. Ellen's Facebook photos are almost all of her cycling or with these babies. Yes, she died doing one of the things she truly loved.

We're almost 150 days into this pandemic, with more than 150,000 deaths from coronavirus in the United States alone:so much loss everywhere, every day it seems you hear about a public figure or a parent of a colleague. This one I really didn't know how to handle: Ellen was so young and it was so sudden. She was someone important to me but we had not been in touch for a long time. I don't know her kids, only met her husband a couple times; nobody sent a link for Zoom shiva. What does Jewish tradition say about mourning a spin teacher? So I wrote something on Facebook, and now I'm writing this: I'll miss you, Ellen. You taught me well; you changed my life. 

There's no smooth transition from Ellen's death to the stories I've selected for you this week, so I'll just switch gears abruptly. We've got two strong pieces from California: one by our National Editor, Rob Eshman, looking at the disinformation being circulated by a rabbi and others about anti-Semitism and the antiracism protests; and another by Danielle Berrin about police action against some of the protestors. On the lighter side, the latest from our lox columnist, Len Berk, taking us inside the employee "lunchroom" at Zabar's, and a pair of culture classics by PJ Grisar: on the "interfaith family of the Muppets," and on Frog and Toad's 50th birthday. You can download and print them via the blue button below.
 

You'll also find there a provocative Opinion piece by Susannah Heschel asking "Where is the Jewish AOC?" (Scores of them signed this response) along with two of the four, count'em four, reactions we've published to Seth Rogen's provocative comments about everything he didn't learn about Israel in Hebrew school. Joel Swanson says Rogen speaks for a lot of millennials; Blake Flayton says Rogen does not speak for him; Shany Mor says Rogen (and Joel and the rest) should find another target for their "Oedipal rage;" and Natasha Skoryk says Rogen reminds us that "if you want your children to love Israel, tell the truth."

That's the hallmark of The Forward's Opinion report -- broad, varied perspectives, to both reflect readers' views and challenge them. I'm worried this is becoming rarer in journalism and public discourse generally, and that is the subject of an important new book out this week. The book, "Dare to Speak," is by Suzanne Nossel, chief executive of PEN America, one of the world's most important advocacy groups for writings and free speech. I've known and admired Suzanne for years -- she is married to David Greenberg, a historian I went to both high school and college with and who now sits on the Forward Association, our governing body -- and the book is her at her best: plain-spoken, clear-minded, evidence-based, constructive, thoughtful guidance on how to protect free speech in this very fraught moment. You can hear Suzanne discuss it with the author Dave Eggers, another friend and favorite of mine, Tuesday at 3:30 p.m. Eastern (for other virtual "Dare to Speak" events, click here).  

Meanwhile, maybe make this crazy cake for Shabbat. That's what Carly Pildis, author of our #tweetyourshabbat column is doing. Because, as she put it, "we must respond to grief by insisting on great joy."  

I hope Ellen would approve.
Shabbat Shalom,








Jodi Rudoren
Editor-in-Chief
rudoren@forward.com