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Curious Showell visits a Hasidic village in Upstate New York described as having about 44,000 residents who primarily speak Yiddish and average seven kids per family. Showell claims the community relies heavily on state assistance and welfare programs such as Medicare, SNAP, housing assistance, and tax credits because of the large families. When asked how many kids people have here, Showell is told “Seventeen, eighteen,” and that they are “proud to do what the Torah says, that you need be multiple and fruitful.” He asks how they can afford many children, and the response is that wealthy community members give charity and the community is based on this. Showell questions whether people are on welfare. One person references taxes and property payments, saying, “The Jewish people, Justin Kirsch, Joel, their taxes covers everything that we take back. They pay a lot of property …” The interviewee refuses to comment about welfare use, and when pressed further about someone being on welfare, declines to answer. In terms of employment, individuals describe themselves as having jobs in sales and home care, with one mentioning selling chocolate. There is uncertainty about who uses welfare: Showell notes that “Most people on Medicaid, SNAP, EBT” while the interviewee claims not to know “for other people” but says “I’m not gonna tell about myself.” When asked about EBT usage, one person initially states “100%” would use EBT for groceries, then corrects to “35%,” indicating a lack of consensus. Showell also asks what most men do for work; the response includes “I have a job” and “I’m in sales,” with the product being food, specifically chocolate. Showell and the interviewee visit a synagogue where many are praying, with a note that the schedule is “09:00 sharp.” The dialogue touches on welfare use within the community, with one line indicating that “BT percent, like all of the communities, you have eight kids, you can also get benefits,” followed by a statement that “These are all teenagers” and the age of Showell’s interviewer as 21. In closing, Showell characterizes the situation as an example of a theocratic ethnic enclave, suggesting that Curious Joel is an example of only Jews living there and that many are tapping into welfare benefits.

"Before Yom Kippur, tens of thousands of Hasidic Jews in Brooklyn will purchase and physically handle live chickens in the largest wet market in the country." "With little to no PPE, they will swing the chickens around their heads as part of an annual atonement ritual called koporos." "The chickens will be killed in about 30 pop up slaughterhouses erected without permits on public streets in violation of eight New York City health codes." "The chickens make each other sick and they also infect people who handle them with E. Coli and Campylobacter." "If the viruses that they harbor co mingle and mutate into a more dangerous strain then these wet markets could be the source of another zoonotic disease outbreak." "According to a toxicologist who studied fecal and blood samples taken during Kaporos, the ritual poses a significant public health hazard." "Hasn't COVID-nineteen been disruptive and deadly enough?"

Speaker 0, Curious Showell, describes a village of 44,000 Hasidic Jews in Upstate New York who primarily speak Yiddish, have an average of seven kids per family, and rely heavily on state assistance and welfare programs such as Medicare, SNAP, housing assistance, and tax credits tied to large families. The question is posed: How many kids do most people have out here? Speaker 1 responds that families have seventeen, eighteen children, and attributes this to being proud to do what the Torah says, that one must be multiple and fruitful. The discussion continues: how do people afford to have ten kids? Speaker 1 says the community is based on this, and when asked if wealthy members give charity, Speaker 1 says yes, mostly, and adds, “I don't talk to suspicious person.” Curious Showell presses: “How am I suspicious? Do you study Torah? Do you work for Hamas?” Speaker 1 replies: “Nothing. How do you make money?” When asked what he does for work, Speaker 1 says his wife, and then says, “I'm doing home care. Brokerage and construction.” On the question of Medicaid, SNAP, and EBT for most people, Speaker 1 responds uncertainly: “I don't know. I don't know. I can't speak for other people. What about you? I'm not gonna tell about myself.” Showell notes the welfare-use curiosity again, asking if the Jewry here are on welfare. Speaker 1 states, “No. The Jewish people, Justin Kirsch, Joel, their taxes covers everything that we take back. They pay a lot of property tax.” When asked if he knows anyone on welfare, he refuses to comment. Showell pushes, “Come on.” Speaker 1 again declines, asking, “What do you guys do for work here? You guys have like businesses, work a job, study Torah?” Speaker 1 answers that he has a job and is in sales, selling food, specifically chocolate. Showell questions the prevalence of EBT use: “What food do you sell? Chocolate.” He quips that he feels “bamboozled.” He asks again whether men take EBT and what percentage use it for groceries here. Speaker 1 asserts, “100%.” When pressed for a percentage, Speaker 1 hedges, and the conversation turns toward observing a synagogue, where many people are praying at 09:00 sharp, not at work. A final question asks what most men do for work in the community. The exchange continues in a floor of confusion: “What do you mean?” and “Do people here survive off of welfare?” Speaker 1 answers, “It is a 100%. Like all of the communities, you have eight kids, can also get benefits.” The time stamp notes a moment of age inquiry—most people seen are teenagers, with one 21-year-old stating his age. The dialogue concludes with a broader insinuation: concerns about Sharia law and a theocratic ethnic enclave, framing Curious Joel as an example of Jews living there and many tapping into welfare benefits.

The video follows Tyler Oliveira, an independent journalist, visiting Kiriyos Joel (Curious Joel), a Hasidic Jewish traditional community in upstate New York described as a large, growing, tightly knit enclave dominated by Hasidic Jews who largely speak Yiddish. The dialogue paints a picture of a community with unusually large families, strict modesty and gender roles, private religious education, and a mix of work patterns that rely on both self-employment within the community and outside labor. Key facts and claims as presented: - Demographics and family size: The community is described as a village of about 40,000 Hasidic Jews in upstate New York, with families averaging seven children. When discussing typical family size, several participants mention numbers like seventeen to eighteen children, though others give more conservative figures. One interviewee says “Ten, twelve, fourteen, fifteen” is common in the larger families, with a repeated emphasis on seven to ten as a norm in some households. - Economic profile and poverty: The town is described as one of the poorest towns in America, with around 40% living beneath the federal poverty line. The transcript notes reliance on public assistance, Medicaid, housing vouchers, food stamps (EBT/SNAP), and cash aid to support large families. - Employment and Torah study: A recurring theme is that many men spend significant time studying the Torah full-time, with three hours of daily prayer/study mentioned by some interviewees. Yet other participants indicate that men work in industries like construction, driving or bus services, or run private businesses. Women are described as working in some cases (e.g., teaching, health care, retail, childcare) and in other cases primarily managing households, especially when children are very young. Some individuals report that women work after children are older or part-time in addition to domestic duties. - Education and institutions: The community uses private religious schools (Torah study is emphasized), with most schools described as privately run. A significant portion of the schooling and social life centers on maintaining the community’s religious practices and modest dress codes. The synagogues, private kosher markets, and a complex network of private buses and community services are prominent features. - Welfare and tax considerations: The dialogue repeatedly questions how families can afford many children on limited incomes, noting welfare programs (Medicaid, SNAP/EBT, housing assistance) that help, particularly for large families. Some participants acknowledge that welfare usage exists (including potential tax credits and other subsidies tied to children), while others push back against the idea that welfare dominates, arguing instead that benevolence within the community and private charity play major roles. There is discussion about how much welfare benefits are worth relative to the costs of raising many children, including taxes and tuition. - Community economics and charity: A common claim is that wealthier members of the community fund many services and subsidize others through charitable giving. The existence of kosher supermarkets run with the help of Mexican labor is described, along with private safety services, volunteer EMS, and community-owned buses and infrastructure. The interviewee notes that two groceries, Maitiv, offer substantial discounts, and that the community supports one another to afford large families. - Labor dynamics and assimilation: Several interviews contrast Hasidic work patterns with non-Jewish labor participation nearby (e.g., Hispanics in construction, retail, and labor). There is a sense that many Jewish residents own or run businesses, while a notable portion of practical labor appears performed by immigrant workers. A discussion arises about whether non-members can move into the community, with responses suggesting it is possible but may be uncomfortable for some residents, given the desire to preserve religious life. - Zionism and Israel: A notable viewpoint expressed by some community members is opposition to the state of Israel before the Messiah, with Zionism described as not Judaism and the state as secular. This stance frames a broader tension between religious life in Kiriyos Joel and external political narratives. - Public interactions and challenges: The video captures tensions around filming, interviews, and the community’s encounter with outside observers, including skepticism about welfare claims and how the community is portrayed. Observations highlighted by the video’s framing: - The community presents itself as a self-reinforcing, tightly knit unit with private institutions, mutual aid, and communal oversight aimed at preserving religious life. - The economic reality described mixes private enterprise, charitable support, and reliance on public programs, particularly given large family sizes. - The overall portrait emphasizes a life integrated around Torah study, prayer, family, education, and a network of community-run services, with welfare and tax considerations continuing to be debated among residents and visitors.

The wire around New York City is a symbolic boundary for the Jewish community, allowing them to extend their private space into the public. It helps with tasks like using cell phones or going to the park on Saturdays when carrying items outside is restricted. The wire is over 15 feet tall and costs $150,000 a year to maintain, funded by Orthodox Synagogues. It stretches from 126th Street to Battery Park along the East River, almost invisible to the eye. It's a unique tradition that many may not have noticed before.

Jews mourn at the Wailing Wall for their destroyed temple. A man ties a string for a blessing and asks for money for his 8 children's food. Claiming to be a rabbi, he requests a donation, haggling over the amount. The tourist ends up giving $30 for the blessing.

Speaker 0 says they’re Jewish, having just discovered it; they knew their mom’s side was Jewish but she never stated it, and they verified it. It’s “crazy.” They wonder what it means and note being told “you’re Jewish.” They were raised Christian and ask if they can be both. Speaker 1 responds that you can be both, and confirms they are both. They mention their mom has ties to Judaism, and if so, “you’re Jewish.” Speaker 0 finds that dope, but notes they feel like they’re all of them: “I’m Jewish. I’m Christian. I’m Muslim. I’m Buddhist. I’m all of Jewish.” Speaker 1 comments, “He’s an African American Jew.” Speaker 0 asks, “What percent Jew are you?” and states they’re “apparently, 20%. We’ll take it.” Speaker 1 says they’re 50%, maybe a little 75% ish. They discuss practices: “Gotta do little”—do they do Shabbat? Speaker 1 says their mom does Shabbat every Friday, but they don’t, though they do the holidays. Speaker 0 asks if they wear a Yamaka (Yarmulke). Speaker 1 says yes, they even have a Mezuzah. The Mezuzah is described as the thing you put on the door when you walk in, and you kiss it when you walk in.

The Noahide law movement is gaining traction globally, even in Gaza. A Chabad soldier placed a Noahide poster in Gaza amid conflict. Similar posters are appearing in France. The movement is supported by Donald Trump, who is seen as a champion of Noahide laws. Supporters are urged to vote for him in the 2020 election. This movement is significant and growing.

Who runs most financial institutions? There's a perception that Jews dominate banking and law, which has led to accusations of anti-Semitism. A Jewish banker friend, Mari, shared that members of his community can access zero-interest loans in the U.S., a benefit I find deeply unfair since I pay interest on my loans as a venture capitalist. This raises questions about religious doctrines favoring one group over others. To qualify for these loans, one must be Jewish, as lineage matters—only those with a Jewish mother can claim this benefit. Hebrew free loans are available to Jewish individuals, while Gentiles do not receive the same opportunity. This disparity is surprising and highlights a significant financial advantage for one community.

The US and Russia are only two miles apart, separated by the Bering Strait and the Diomede Islands. Little Diomede belongs to the US and is home to the town of Diomede, population 82. Big Diomede belongs to Russia and is uninhabited, except for military personnel. Diomede is the closest American town to Russia. In winter, the water between the islands freezes, creating an ice bridge allowing land border crossings. An international dateline runs between the islands, creating a 21-hour time difference. Crossing from the US side into Russia puts you in the future, making you a time traveler.

The interaction opens with a direct question about Jewish identity: “Are you Jewish?” The response is affirmative in part—“Yeah.” There is a fragmentary acknowledgment that “He is a little bit,” followed by additional, somewhat disjointed sounds: “My Yeah,” and a clarification that references a close relation, “Brother right here.” The exchange continues with casual greetings: the speakers say “Hello. Hello. Hello.” and then shift into a cultural marker, offering the word “Shalom” and accompanying sounds: “Yeah.” The mood suggests a mix of recognition and familiarity, with the participants signaling their cultural or religious cues through both language and gesture. The dialogue tightens around another round of greetings: “Shalom. My god. Yeah.” These lines reinforce the sense that the group is interweaving everyday social contact with Jewish friends or family members and their shared linguistic repertoire. The repetition of greetings and the insertion of “Shalom” underscore a moment of cultural identification or respect among those present. A consequential turn in the conversation arrives when one speaker comments on the day: “Isn't it Friday? Shouldn't we not be on our phone?” This line introduces a practical consideration tied to a religious or cultural context—Friday evening as the beginning of Shabbat for many Jewish people, and the implication that phone use might not be appropriate during that time. The remark signals an awareness of observance norms and a consideration of how they might apply in the present moment. The exchange ends with a fragmentary continuation: “My god. You're” leaving an incomplete thought hanging in the air, which suggests that the conversation is in progress or interrupted, with participants possibly reacting to one another or trying to complete a thought related to the prior discussion. Overall, the transcript captures a brief, informal dialogue in which one person asks about Jewish identity, the group acknowledges a familial link, greetings and the word “Shalom” frame their interaction, and a practical note on Friday and phone use introduces the notion of cultural or religious observance in the moment. The sequence blends personal recognition, linguistic markers, and a consideration of religious timing, ending on an unresolved cue.

Before Yom Kippur, tens of thousands of Hasidic Jews in Brooklyn will purchase and physically handle live chickens in the largest wet market in the country. With little to no PPE, they will swing the chickens around their heads as part of an annual atonement ritual called koporos. The chickens will be killed in about 30 pop up slaughterhouses erected without permits on public streets in violation of eight New York City health codes. The body parts, blood, and feces of thousands of animals will contaminate the streets for days. If the viruses that they harbor co mingle and mutate into a more dangerous strain then these wet markets could be the source of another zoonotic disease outbreak. According to a toxicologist who studied fecal and blood samples taken during Kaporos, the ritual poses a significant public health hazard.

The red heifer is crucial for temple offerings in Judaism. Finding a suitable red heifer meeting specific criteria is rare. Only 9 have been prepared since Moses. A recent joint effort brought 5 red heifers from Texas to Jerusalem for purification rituals. This event is significant for Jews anticipating a return to biblical purity laws and for Christians who see it as a sign of the end times.

Jews are often accused of controlling the world, and while it may seem irrational, there is some truth to it. Despite being a small percentage of the global population, the influence of Jews and Judaism is immeasurable.

Jewish individuals have historically fought for LGBTQ rights, with figures like Harvey Milk and Edie Windsor leading the way. A recent poll shows that 81% of Jews support gay marriage, higher than other groups. The Jewish principle of tikkun olam emphasizes changing the world and accepting the LGBTQ community aligns with this value. Coming out is seen as a deeply Jewish act, asserting one's identity proudly.

We need a red heifer to build a temple, which hasn't been done in over 2000 years. There are 5 perfect red heifers in Israel, brought in as pets on a special permit. They flew in on an American Airlines flight with 250 passengers on top and 5 red heifers on the bottom.

Believers are caring for red heifers in Israel to potentially rebuild the Jewish temple in Jerusalem. The heifers must be perfect according to the Bible's Book of Numbers. Yitzhak Mamo is overseeing their care, with the heifers coming from Texas. This is a serious endeavor, not a publicity stunt, as the Bible is seen as a divine guide.

Question: If a Jew converts to another religion, are they still Jewish? A Jew is a Jew forever and cannot convert. It is simply impossible. The Jew will always remain Jewish. Remember that.

The speaker argues that American Jews are wrestling with a category they inherited from our European ancestors about 250 years ago. As Jews moved into modern nation-states and pursued secular jobs and secular education, they reimagined Judaism to fit in. Judaism was transformed into something like a Protestant-style religion: a framework that worked well for a long period, enabling Jews to participate in broader society. The speaker emphasizes that Jews are not merely a religion, nor are we a race or ethnicity. Instead, Jews are a nation, civilization, tribe, peoplehood, and above all, a family. Therefore, a young person in America who thinks Judaism is simply a Protestant religion risks viewing the 7,000,000 Jews in Israel as merely co-religionists. If that is the lens, the natural question becomes: what do you owe to them? It would be like telling a mainline, very progressive Protestant in Berkeley, California that they must care about a Pentecostal in Brazil. In that framing, it doesn’t make sense, because it’s a category error. The speaker clarifies that the people in Israel are not merely co-religionists; they are siblings. The danger lies in thinking of Israel's Jewish population primarily through the lens of shared religious practice. When that happens, there is a risk of sliding into anti-Zionism, because the fundamental, personal connection to Israel—as siblings within a broader Jewish family—gets diminished or lost if Israel is reduced to a subset of co-religionists who share a particular religious outlook or social-justice framework. Key contrasts highlighted include the historical adaptation that treated Judaism as a Protestant-style religion to fit into secular, modern-state life, versus the present understanding that Jewish identity encompasses nationhood, civilization, and family ties. The speaker suggests that recognizing Israel as part of a family, not just a co-religionist community, is essential to maintaining connections that are not solely defined by theological agreement or social-justice alignment but by a broader shared Jewish peoplehood.

Jews mourn at the Wailing Wall, where a man ties a string for blessings and charity donations. The man claims to be a rabbi, asking for money for his family and Shabbat. He haggles over donations, leaving tourists lighter in their pockets. This highlights the irony of supposed rabbis exploiting visitors at a sacred Jewish site. Translation: Jews mourn at the Wailing Wall, where a man ties a string for blessings and charity donations. The man claims to be a rabbi, asking for money for his family and Shabbat. He haggles over donations, leaving tourists lighter in their pockets. This highlights the irony of supposed rabbis exploiting visitors at a sacred Jewish site.

In this video, the speaker visits a synagogue in Moscow that was built in the late 1800s during a time of pogroms against the Jewish people. The synagogue has a tunnel that was used as an escape route during these attacks. The speaker shows how the stones can be lifted to reveal the tunnel entrance. They then introduce the rabbi of the synagogue and show a hidden Megillah, a sacred text. The Megillah is kept hidden to protect it, but can still be used when needed.

In Yiddish, there's a word called "Fargim" which means supporting your community by buying from them even if others can do it better. If they make a mistake, we help them fix it and continue to support them. Look up Fargim for more information.

Jews are believed to have a significant influence in the world, as it is written in the Torah. Despite being a small community compared to the American population, Jews are present in various fields such as politics, including support for Trump and Biden. This pattern has been observed throughout history in different countries.

During the "three weeks," a sad time on the Jewish calendar commemorating the temple's destruction, listening to music is typically not allowed. However, acapella, music consisting solely of voices, is permitted during this period of mourning. The hope is to rebuild the temple so that real music can be celebrated once again.

We need a red heifer to rebuild the temple, which hasn't been done in over 2000 years. There are now 5 perfect red heifers in Israel that were brought in as pets on a special permit. They arrived on an American Airlines flight with 250 passengers on top and 5 red heifers on the bottom.