Rabbi Yehuda Finchas

Blake entered my office visibly excited. “Rabbi, as far as I know, I’m not Jewish. But out of curiosity, I checked my ancestry on the 23andMe website, and it claims that my lineage includes Jewish heritage. Does that mean I’m Jewish? Can I marry a Jewish girl if 23andMe says I’m Jewish?”

What is DNA Testing?

To answer this question, we need to first discuss DNA testing in general and then focus on genetic ancestry testing. Every person has a unique DNA profile, much like a fingerprint. DNA is found in nearly every cell in the body. In recent years, mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA) has become a popular tool for genetic ancestry identification. Mitochondria, the powerhouses of our cells, have their own genetic material, which is passed down exclusively from mother to child. This means mtDNA is inherited along the maternal line and according to halacha it is the mother who determines if the children are Jewish. So, can mtDNA prove you are Jewish?

There are several types of DNA tests. For example, blood tests can detect hereditary diseases such as Tay-Sachs and Cystic Fibrosis, identifying whether a person carries the genes linked to these conditions. DNA testing is also used in forensic science to identify human remains, ensure that all body parts are buried together, and establish identity. Additionally, genetic testing can be used to establish paternity and confirm direct biological relationships. These tests are highly accurate.

Genetic ancestry testing, however, has several limitations. While general DNA tests can accurately determine close family relationships (e.g., parents, siblings, cousins), any connections beyond that are based on probability and statistical estimates.

Jewish DNA?

There is no specific “Jewish DNA.” However, some researchers have found that certain mtDNA haplogroups – groups of related mtDNA sequences – are more common among Jewish populations than in the general population. For example, Nephrologist Karl Skorecki and researcher in molecular genetics Behar write, “At least 40 percent of the Ashkenazi population carry one of four unique forms of mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA)…” In other words, over 3 million Ashkenazi Jews are descendants of four women who were among the founders of the Ashkenazi population. These haplotypes are more prevalent in Ashkenazi Jews and rarely found in Jews of other origins or in non-Jews.

However, these conclusions have been contested as statistically problematic. Since Jewish people make up less than 1 out of 500 people globally, even if a haplotype is much more common in Ashkenazi Jews – say, 100 times more prevalent than in non-Jews – there is still a higher chance that a person with that haplotype is a non-Jewish outlier rather than a Jewish individual.

Other research challenges Skorecki and Behar’s findings. For instance, Professor Raphael Falk from the Hebrew University (2015) concluded that, “genetic markers cannot determine Jewish descent.” Similarly, in 2016, Dr. Eran Elhaik stated that it is impossible to prove Jewish descent using genetic markers and highlighted several issues with current research. Tofanelli’s research in 2014 also pointed out the limitations of using haplotype motifs as reliable indicators of Jewish ancestry.

In Conclusion

In conclusion, there is no clear scientific evidence that one can rely on to determine Jewish descent based purely on genetic testing. Mitochondrial DNA cannot definitively prove that a person is Jewish. While Jewish populations may share certain genetic markers, there is no unique DNA sequence that definitively establishes Jewish ancestry. Therefore, in practice – halacha l’maaseh – Blake cannot rely on his DNA test to prove his Jewishness. If he wishes to marry a Jewish girl, he must establish that his mother or grandmother is Jewish according to halacha.

Jewish people possess special spiritual traits, as reflected in the Gemara (Yevamot 78b), which lists three defining characteristics of the Jewish people: they are merciful, humble, and engage in acts of loving-kindness. The Gemara teaches that anyone who embodies these three traits is truly deserving of our companionship. These are so to speak the spiritual genes of the Jewish people.

Rabbi Yehuda Finchas is a recognized expert, lecturer, and author on Medical Halacha. He is the head of the Torat Habayit Medical Halacha Institute. His latest book is “Brain Death in Halacha and the Tower of Babel Syndrome.” To contact Rabbi Finchas, please email rabbi@torathabayit.com.

Pnina Souid

The Mitzvah Man relates that when he was first starting out, he learned the valuable lessons of strength in numbers and recognizing his limits. It started with one phone call.

A Call for Help

One summer day thirteen years ago the Mitzvah Man received a call from the friend of a woman who was blind who we’ll call Sarah. Sarah had seen an advertisement for the Mitzvah Man’s offer to do hesed. She had been invited to her friend’s 90th birthday party, and was looking for a ride. However, the Mitzvah man had to decline, as he was not in Brooklyn for the summer.

Sarah was very disappointed, but the Mitzvah Man offered to help her when he returned to Brooklyn after the summer, saying he would be happy to help her with her errands when he was back.

Sarah was delighted at the offer and started listing off her needs. “I need someone to make phone calls for me, order groceries to be delivered, make doctor appointments and take me there, among other things. Besides being blind, I have no family.”

The Mitzvah Man respectfully inquired as to why Sarah did not have a companion or home health aide. She had tried several! But none had worked out for her. The Mitzvah Man felt a little overwhelmed by the jobs she might have for him, but he promised that when he was back in Brooklyn, he would see how he could help her.

True to his word, after the Mitzvah Man was back in Brooklyn he went to pay Sarah a visit. She was living alone on the third floor of a three-story walkup in Coney Island. The building belonged to a yeshiva that occupied the first two floors.

Sarah was so happy to welcome the Mitzvah Man into her home. She knew just where everything was. She had been a true baalat hesed when she was able to see, giving tzedaka and helping people in need. Plaques covered her walls. Although she was blind she knew exactly which plaque was which and she proudly showed the Mitzvah Man a number of laudatory articles. She was familiar with each one was and clearly remembered what was written about her.

The Aha! Moment – Recruit Others

The Mitzvah Man pondered how he could possibly help Sarah with all of her needs. He was working alone, with no team of volunteers to help him. He realized that he could do so much more with the assistance of others. He offered a tefilla to Hashem asking for guidance. The choice was to continue working alone or to recruit other volunteers to join him. He felt Hashem telling him that the thing to do was to take his hesed work to the next level.

To accomplish that goal he placed an ad in the paper to create the Mitzvah Man organization. 20 volunteers answered the call.

Sarah now had a team of volunteers to help her. Team members got to work to make her phone calls and to set up her doctor appointments, and they visited her, as well. One of the volunteers accompanied Sarah to a wedding, helped her on to the dance floor, and danced with her. After the wedding she took Sarah home.

There were many phone calls to be made. A volunteer suggested getting Sarah a special phone that could be programmed, allowing Sarah to make calls just by speaking into the phone.

Another volunteer took it upon herself to take Sarah out for walks on nice days

One night Sarah experienced chest pains. She was able to reach Hatzalah on her voice activated phone. Hatzalah volunteers quickly came and transported her to the hospital. She was having a heart attack. The phone saved her life. Sarah lived another five years.

The modest beginning with 20 volunteers has blossomed into a vibrant team of 3,800 volunteers who answer the call to do hesed in Brooklyn, Manhattan, Deal, and Long Branch, New Jersey.

Something about baby Moshe made it clear that he was Jewish.

Moshe’s mother had placed him in a basket in the river, and the basket was soon discovered by none other than the Egyptian princess, Pharaoh’s daughter. She opened the basket, saw a baby crying, and immediately determined, “Miyaldeh ha’Ivrim zeh – This one is from the children of the Hebrews!” (Shemot 2:6). Apparently, Moshe had some feature that was unique to Beneh Yisrael, such that the princess was immediately able to conclude that he was one of “the children of the Hebrews.”

Rashi writes that she saw Moshe’s berit milah, and this was enough for Pharaoh’s daughter to determine that he was a Jew.

There are, however, other approaches that have been taken – and which highlight certain qualities which characterize – and must always characterize – the Jewish Nation.

The Silent Cry

One such explanation I was privileged to hear from the former Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi of the State of Israel, Rav Yisrael Meir Lau, shelit”a.

Rav Lau noted a number of other difficulties in this verse. For one thing, Moshe is referred here in two different ways. The Torah tells that “vatir’ehu et hayeled” – the princess saw “the child,” but then writes, “hinei na’ar bocheh” – “behold, a young lad was crying.” The words “yeled” (child) and “na’ar” (young lad) are not at all synonymous. A yeled is a small child, whereas a na’ar is an older child, a young adult. How could the Torah describe three-month-old Moshe as a “crying na’ar”?

Rashi, based on the Gemara (Sotah 12b), explains that Moshe’s voice resembled that of an older child, an adolescent. Although he was still an infant, he had the voice of a na’ar.

At first glance, this seems very strange. Why would Moshe, at three months old, have the voice of a teenage boy? Indeed, another view in the Gemara dismisses this opinion, refusing to accept that the greatest prophet and leader of all time was blemished in this fashion.

To explain this concept, Rav Lau draws upon his own experience as a young boy in a situation not all that different from Moshe’s.

Born in Poland in 1937, Rav Lau was a young boy when the Nazis broke into his family’s home to take them away. He recalls how his mother tried hiding him to protect him – just as Moshe’s mother successfully hid Moshe from the Egyptian authorities who were bent on carrying out Pharaoh’s cruel edict to kill all newborn boys. Little Yisrael Meir saw the dread and trepidation on his mother’s face, and he himself shared her fears. Still a young child, he naturally felt like crying – but he knew that he could not cry out loud. Any sound he would make would draw the attention of the Nazi troops. Although he was just several years old, the horrific circumstances he endured forced him to have the maturity to cry silently. Normally, only adults have the wisdom and strength to keep their cries to themselves, and

weep in silence, but young Yisrael Meir Lau, on that terrifying day, was, in this sense, an adult, and he cried quietly.

Many years later, Rav Lau realized that this might have been true also of baby Moshe. Although just an infant, Moshe had been trained to cry silently. Ever since birth, he was hidden from those who wanted to kill him, and so he was forced to weep quietly. And for this reason, Rav Lau said, the Torah says that Pharaoh’s daughter saw (vatir’ehu) a weeping child – and not that she heard the baby’s cries. Moshe was a yeled, a young child, but he cried like a na’ar, with the maturity to realize that he must cry silently, and so he was only seen, but not heard.

This is how the princess determined right away that Moshe was an Israelite child. Rav Lau explained that we Jews, having suffered so much persecution and hostility, are accustomed to silent weeping. We have been forced throughout our history to keep our cries quiet, to avoid drawing the attention and the resentment of those who seek to harm us. Silent weeping is a uniquely Jewish quality, and thus Pharaoh’s daughter immediately realized that “miyaldeh ha’Ivrim zeh” – Moshe was a Jew.

But there is a different understanding of this pasuk – one which reflects not only the unfortunate reality of our nation’s silent cries, but also the unique bond which we are to feel toward our fellow Jews.

The Crying Brother

This understanding emerges from a brief but fascinating comment of the Ba’al Haturim (Rabbenu Yaakov Ben Asher, Germany-Spain, d. 1340) in interpreting this verse. The Ba’al Haturim observes that the words “na’ar bocheh” (“a crying lad”), as spelled in this verse, have the same gematria (numerical value) as the words “zeh Aharon Hakohen – This is Aharon the Kohen.” Surprisingly, the Ba’al Haturim asserts that the “crying lad” in this verse is not Moshe, the infant whom Pharaoh’s daughter sees in the basket, but rather his older brother, Aharon, who was standing off to the side. The Torah tells us that Moshe’s sister, Miriam, had gone to the riverbank to see what would happen to her baby brother, but, according to the Ba’al Haturim, Aharon was there, too. And, as Aharon watched his baby brother helplessly floating in a basket on the river, without his parents or anyone to care for him, and exposed to the danger of the ruthless Egyptian authorities, he cried.

According to the Ba’al Haturim, the “yeled” and the “na’ar” in this verse are two different people – Moshe and Aharon. Pharaoh’s daughter saw the child, and then, “behold, there was a lad weeping” – she heard someone else crying for this infant. And it was then that she determined, “Miyaldeh ha’Ivrim zeh” – that this must be a Jewish child.

One of the defining characteristics of our nation is empathy, feeling each other’s pain. We are all brothers and sisters, and we all cry when our fellow Jew is in distress. When we hear of a fellow Jew who has taken seriously ill, we cry and pray. When we hear of a fellow Jew who has fallen into financial straits, we cry and see how we can help. When we hear of fellow Jews in Israel who are killed in war or terror attacks, we cry. We cry and pray for the hostages, for the soldiers waging war, for those who have sustained injuries, and for the grieving families. This is what we do. And so when Pharaoh’s daughter saw a young man crying because of a baby that was floating helplessly in the river, she understood that this was a Jewish child.

“Adam” vs. “Anashim”

Rav Meir Shapiro of Lublin (1887-1933) explained on this basis an otherwise mysterious Talmudic passage which, until his interpretation, was used by antisemites throughout the ages to fuel the flames of hatred and suspicion of Jews. The Gemara in Masechet Yevamot (61a) cites the prophet Yehezkel’s pronouncement to the Jewish Nation (34:31), “Adam atem” – literally, “You are people.” This indicates, the Gemara notes, that “you are called ‘adam,’ but the gentiles are not called ‘adam’.” The Gemara applies this teaching to a halachic concept, to a certain Torah law which depends on the particular status of “adam.” But many a Jew-hater seized upon the Gemara’s remark to provide “evidence” that we are a racist, supremacist people, that we consider all non-Jews as subhuman creatures. It goes without saying that this is a preposterous claim, as Torah law, ethics and tradition teaches us to extend sensitivity and kindness to all people, and to respect the divine image within every human being. But what, then, does the Gemara here mean? In what way are gentiles not considered “adam”?

Rav Shapiro explained the Gemara to mean that gentiles aren’t called “adam,” and are called instead the other word for “person” – “ish.” The difference between the words “adam” and “ish” is that the latter also has a plural form – “anashim.” When we want to speak of two or more people, we say “anashim.” Intriguingly, there is no corresponding plural term for “adam.” This word has only a singular form. The Gemara is teaching us that we, the Jewish People, are always referred to with the singular expression “adam,” even when there are many thousands of us. No matter how many Jews we are talking about, they are always “adam” – a single, indivisible unit. We are all one, like a single body. When one part of the body aches, the entire body suffers – and this is true of Am Yisrael, as well. We all feel each other’s pain, share in each other’s sorrow, and help shoulder each other’s burdens. But other people are called “ish,” or, in the plural, “anashim.” This does not mean that there’s anything wrong with people who aren’t Jewish. It means simply that other nations do not have the same unique cohesiveness and sense of family as Am Yisrael. This is one of our signature qualities, a feature of Jewish life that makes us unique.

Caring Community

I say with great pride that while this is true of the entire Jewish Nation, this is true especially of our beautiful community. One of the things that we excel in is the quality of sharing our fellow’s burden, and coming to his side in his time of need. We are kind, generous, giving, and – most important of all – concerned. We truly care about one another – about our fellow community members, and about our brothers and sisters from outside our community, no matter their background, affiliation, or level of observance. We embody the notion of “adam,” the notion that the entire Jewish Nation comprises a single organic entity that cannot ever be divided.

I hope and pray that in the merit of all the wonderful hesed performed by our community, and of all the heartfelt tefilot recited by our community members for our fellow Jews in need here, in Israel, and throughout the world, Hashem will bless His nation with peace and prosperity, and bring us our long-awaited final redemption, speedily and in our times, amen.

Building Through Loss: Finding Purpose in Pain Jack Gindi

Each morning, as the sun rises over the Rockies, I see nature’s reminder: after darkness comes light. This truth is more profound than ever. My family and I face life’s most challenging journey – coping with the loss of my beloved son, Shaun.

Like many who suffer a significant loss, we haunt ourselves with the question: How do we move on when our world has stopped? I have learned the answer is often found in unexpected moments. They are usually found in conversations, communities, and helping others through similar challenges.

The path through grief is not linear. Some days feel impossible, while others offer glimpses of purpose. It becomes clear that deep pain changes us. It nudges us forward to uncover meaning. It lights our direction toward change. In that journey, we begin to piece together a path that is bigger than ourselves.

This morning, I meditated. I reflected on Shaun’s dreams and our work with struggling teens and families. I realized something profound: moving forward does not mean moving on. It means carrying our loved ones’ vision with us.

After years in real estate development, I learned that every structure needs a solid foundation. But building through loss teaches us something different. Sometimes, our most robust foundations are on the most broken ground. When we channel our grief into purpose, remarkable transformations become possible.

I learned this lesson first in 2008 when I lost my real estate portfolio. Every building I had constructed, every deal I had made – gone. Starting over in my fifties seemed impossible. Yet, that experience taught me that true building is not about properties. It is about building lives.

The rebuilding taught me lessons. They helped me develop tools to guide other families facing similar setbacks. My son, Shaun, embodied this spirit of transformation. He struggled with anxiety and depression. Still, he wanted to help other young people find their way. His words guide me: “I want to transform kids’ lives… I want people to experience an accomplishment in a way that they might have thought was beyond them.” He dreamed of showing kids that their struggles do not define them. I’m struck by the irony that I’m only learning of his dream now in his diary.

I am in my office as I write this. The morning light beams through my window. It reminds me that while some dreams end too soon, others are beginning. I invite you to feel your way through your pain and find your new chapter. We can all discover new meanings because of our losses, not despite them.

Remember: We often discover our most meaningful purpose in our darkest moments. The key is to remain open to the possibilities. It may not feel like it in the moment, but your greatest pain can often become your greatest gift to others.

Consider this: What could you build if setbacks were new beginnings, not endings? What meaning could you create from life’s most challenging moments?

Let’s build dreams together, one story at a time.

Ellen Gellar Kamaras

The ongoing debate around the $3 billion Coney Island casino project, The Coney, recently deepened on both sides. Opponents continue to claim that the casino will only benefit the developers and investors, and will bring many harmful consequences to residents, our children and families, local businesses, and visitors. The Coney’s advocates persistently argue that it will offer necessary economic prospects of new jobs and revitalization, to a neighborhood that has grappled with seasonal ebbs and flows.

There are two important updates.

Demapping Plan

A September 2024 article by Charles Denson, the Executive Director of the nonprofit Coney Island History Project, highlighted that the developers, in their June 27 presentation to the NYC Planning Commission, included a dangerous land-grab demapping plan of epic proportions.

The consortium asked NYC to close and “demap” the three main streets in the amusement zone that connects Surf Avenue to the oceanfront and to transform these critical city streets into “landscaped pedestrian walkways” for the casino and the adjoining hotel’s benefit. These three streets are Stillwell Avenue, West 12th Street, and West 15th.

This plan would jeopardize the safety of the millions who visit Coney Island in the summer to enjoy the free access it offers to the Boardwalk, beach, and ocean, and would destroy the existing businesses encircling the casino complex.

Denson cited the following negative consequences if the city signs off on this plan.

These three streets are currently used as designated fire lanes by ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks. If the plan is approved, emergency access to the Boardwalk,

beach, and amusement park will be a quarter of a mile away. Firefighters will need to pull hoses for long distances to fight a fire and medical staff would push stretchers from gridlocked Surf Avenue to help people on the Boardwalk, beach, or rides. First responders must have these streets as access points to save lives. Cutting vehicular access will lead to increased response time, and the loss of lives.

· Disability parking and wheelchair accessibility to the Boardwalk and beach would be limited in violation of the ADA Accessibility Standards.

· Deliveries to local businesses and amusement parks will be blocked.

· Utility and repair vehicles will not be able to service businesses south of Surf Avenue.

· 160 public parking spaces would be cut and would turn West 12th Street into a short driveway leading to the casino’s private 1,500-car parking garage. Cars entering and exiting the casino garage will cause a bottleneck at the already overcrowded intersection of Surf Avenue and West 12th Street.

· Public School 90 is on West 12th Street, a block north of the proposed casino. When casino traffic gridlock backs up on West 12th Street, it will cause delays for parents dropping off or picking up their kids from school by car.

Denson summarizes his arguments against the demapping plan with a history lesson: “Stillwell Avenue, West 12th Street, and West 15th are vital to the life of the amusement zone and must be kept open. These streets were cut through to the ocean in the 1920s when the beach was still private property. The City built these thoroughfares to provide access for the public to enjoy a free beach and Boardwalk.”

October 2024 Town Hall Meeting

At a packed October town hall meeting led by local activist Ronald Stewart, a diverse group of adversaries of the Coney expressed their fears over the effect of gambling on the community and claimed that a casino would hurt rather than help Coney Island. They voiced concerns about the crime, escalated traffic, and addiction that go along with

casinos. According to Mr. Stewart, this will take value from the people who gamble their money away.” Local business owners maintained that the Coney would harm their livelihoods and drive away customers who travel to Coney Island for its distinctive vibe and entertainment.

Sarah Jenkins, longtime resident and community activist said, “We do not want Coney Island to become a haven for gambling and vice. This is a place where families come to enjoy the beach, the rides, and the unique culture that makes Coney Island so special. A casino has no place here.”

Supporters of the Coney also made their voices heard. Joseph Packer believes that the Coney could keep entertainment spending within Brooklyn. He and his family frequently travel to NJ since Coney Island does not have the facilities that Atlantic City has. Other advocates claim that the Coney will attract visitors and thereby benefit local businesses, raise property values, and create tax revenue for public services.

Coney Island is one of three downstate gambling casino sites in the NYC area for which developers and gaming companies are bidding for licenses. The Gaming Facility Location Board review process, community comment period, study of the impact on the neighborhood, and determination of who is awarded the license, remain scheduled for some time in 2025.

Governor Kathy Hochul was recently criticized after anonymous reports appeared that she would support legislation benefiting Mets owner Steve Cohen for a casino near Queens’ Citi Field.

Although the Brooklyn Chamber of Commerce is in favor of the Coney, Community Board (CB) 13 and most of its underlying four district neighborhood residents, remain opposed to Joseph Sitt’s application for the Coney Project.

While not geographically included in CB 13, the Sephardic Community Federation is firmly opposed to the application for a Coney Island Casino.

SCF has worked tirelessly to preserve the community’s values, protect against addiction risks and economic disruption, and ensure a prosperous and vibrant future for all residents of Southern Brooklyn. SBC took a leading position in encouraging other community organizations to join their fight against the Coney by creating the No Coney Casino Petition and website: https://p2a.co/slDezlj.

What You Can Do

Complete the form on https://p2a.co/slDezlj to help protect our neighborhood by saying “no coney island casino.” Send an email to your officials with one click.

to your input

Contact the officials below to find out who is representing them at the Community Advisory Committee meetings. Communicate your questions and concerns to:

NY State Senator Jessica Scarcella-Spanton, 718-727-9406.

Assemblyman Michael Novakhov (District 45), 718-743-4078.

Local City Council member Justin Brannan (District 47), 718-307-7151.

Brooklyn Borough President Antonio Reynoso, 718-802–3700.

Mayor Eric Adams, 311.

Governor Kathy Hochul, 518-474-8390.