When Tradition asked me and Prof. Chaim Saiman to reflect on frum materialism (and it is a new reality in some ways, as we explain at length) — I agreed because I wanted the space to grapple candidly with my own personal struggle.

Namely: What voids are we seeking to fill with so much gashmius? What about our American lives feel so empty, even amidst so much communal activity and energy — that still leaves this constant need for more? And particularly for us frum women — how do we begin to move ourselves away from this distraction, which too often keeps our minds away from leading an examined life?

I write here not as someone removed from this, but in many ways as someone living in the heart of this issue.

This was written last summer and published this year. But I think today more than ever we are called upon to consider our priorities, just as the ground beneath us seems to be shaking.

Read more online at Tradition. Print it for your Shabbos read!

(Photo-illustration by Kevin Rebong/The Real Deal; Google Maps, Getty Images)

As a journalist, I did not expect to get into commercial real estate in 2023.

But by March, my husband and I were in the market for a permanent place for our new synagogue, the Altneu.

We had started it on the Upper East Side in 2021, and the community had expanded so fast that we needed to rent a larger hall each week. 

Where in Manhattan can you gather 500 people? As the months passed, we rented space for services and events in more than a dozen locations. We soon understood that we needed our own property.

Day after day, with broker after broker, we toured shuttered movie theaters, former private schools and the Pierre Hotel ballroom. We tried to imagine ourselves in each. Where would the Torah ark sit? Where would classes and groups meet? We sought a wide space so that men and women could sit on the same level, unlike in most Manhattan Orthodox synagogues, which build upward, adding balconies to allow for more seats in a narrow building. The congregation had a long checklist of requirements for the space, including that it was up to code for public assembly and accessible. 

“Would this work, rabbi?” one community member asked, sending us the listing for a dilapidated church. 

There were, it turned out, quite a few empty temples and churches in the neighborhood, places that had struggled with membership for years and then got finished off by Covid.

But they were rarely for sale. 

For some, tax exemptions keep carrying costs low enough to keep. At others, chaotic governance prevents decision-making, including the decision to sell. For still others, landmark designations limit redevelopment prospects. In a world where a private developer can barely pencil out a new rental building, the properties seemed not to operate in the universe of bottom lines.

Churches and temples own some of the most valuable real estate in the world, we were learning, but the complexity made their holdings essentially illiquid, even with an eager, well-financed buyer making inquiries. While the old, beautiful sanctuaries sat empty, our bustling young congregation — and we were not the only one — stayed nomadic. The paradox was tripping up our search…

Read more in The Real Deal’s June issue…

Today’s newsletter is something a little different…

With great joy and deep gratitude to the Almighty and to our benevolent and visionary patron-partners — we have found a home for the Altneu Synagogue, in the Thomas Lamont mansion, dubbed by the Times as the 'best house on the best block.'

What a surreal journey it’s been, since we founded this shul just two years ago here on the Upper East Side.

Read the news here, in New York magazine’s Curbed real estate section.

Grateful eternally to all those who dedicate night and day to this community, behind the scenes, shirking public honors for the sake of building something extraordinary. Something old and something new.

A beautiful, elevated home for a beautiful, elevated community.

Here is a glimpse of the community we are so honored to serve:

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At kiddush a few weeks ago, in an animated discussion about politics and today's ever-darkening climate, my dear friend Diana pointed out to me that International Women's Day —that yontef (almost-religious holiday) for us post-Soviets — was actually started by Jewish women.

I was shocked. Like many children of Soviet refugees, I grew up celebrating the 8th of March, that odd socialist vestige, as a day for extravagant bouquets, kitschy e-cards and tacky toasts, honoring the valiant women in every family.

But I had no idea about the back-story of the day — and that its first iteration in the States was established by a Russian-Jewish refugee activist for women’s and workers’ rights named Theresa Serber Malkiel.

In today's Teen Vogue, I ​w​rite about Malkiel's story, which has been relegated to the back shelves of feminist history, on the antisemitism she countered as a writer and activist — and wonder about her eventual disillusionment with her party, after she sees its political exceptionalism towards some groups.

"Her memory asks hard questions of American women who call themselves progressive yet practice political exceptionalism — those who refuse to do the hard work of undoing their own unconscious biases, including deeply buried antisemitism. This Women’s History Month in particular, with antisemitism soaring and the continued exclusion of certain women from conversations around feminism and protection, Malkiel’s legacy matters more than ever."

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Read more in Teen Vogue.

A lot more than you think.

For my first story for The Real Deal, I offer a deep dive into Qatari government investments into New York City.

Art by Paul Dilakian/The Real Deal

The tiny Gulf state – through its fund, related companies and royal family – has spent tens of billions of dollars on American property, amounting to an estimated 10 million square feet in Manhattan, at minimum: From a hotel portfolio that includes the iconic Plaza Hotel, St. Regis, and Park Lane Hotel, to stakes in the Empire State Realty Trust and Brookfield Property Partners, to bankrolling some of the city’s most glamorous and high-profile developments.

“Beyond the fact that it’s a good asset,” one former expat in Doha told me, “It gives them access to the clients or users of those commodities. It opens the doors to the who’s who in Europe and America.”

The tiny country’s sovereign wealth fund is a black box; in addition to holding buildings and shares of real estate companies and trusts outright, the fund’s spin offs and affiliates also quietly back other investors. 

For this story, I spoke to brokers, investors, lenders, developers and lobbyists in an effort to paint a picture of the Qatari government’s investment into New York. Almost all declined to speak on the record.

I chose to examine this now because Qatar is under growing scrutiny, as conflict spreads across the Middle East. The Gulf state is positioning itself as a U.S. ally and regional mediator, even as it continues to have a notorious human rights record, and to host Hamas leadership and maintain financial ties to the terror group.

And acquisitions in Manhattan real estate aren’t just about value appreciation. They’re about buying influence and, potentially, power. 

As one Gulf region analyst told me: “Everything in the Middle East is about who owns what.”

For the full story, and the interactive map that lays this all out for you – read it in The Real Deal.

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