The mayor of Main Street

The Sabbath is a day of rest for all observant Jews. But for Rabbi Shlomo Nisanov, the day has special significance. It’s the only 24-hour period when he’s not constantly on his phone.

The rest of the week, though, is fair game. Rabbi Nisanov takes calls while driving to pick up boxes of produce for the kosher food pantry he runs out of the back of his synagogue, Kehilat Sephardim of Ahavat Achim in Kew Gardens; in between hugs and toasts at a banquet dinner; while ordering at a restaurant; and about a dozen times in the course of one two-hour interview.

“I get a lot of phone calls,” he said, texting as he spoke.

But Rabbi Nisanov doesn’t mind. It’s part of the job description for a rabbi in the Bukharian Jewish diaspora, 60,000 of whom settled in Queens after leaving their native Uzbekistan in the 1990s. Connected by family bonds and protective of their Central Asian-influenced language and customs, the Bukharians have formed an incredibly tight-knit community—one altogether different from New York’s other Jewish sects. In parts of Forest Hills, Rego Park, and Kew Gardens Hills, they’re a city unto themselves—and Rabbi Nisanov is their unofficial mayor, leading his congregation, ministering to the poor, and knowing absolutely everyone.

It’s immediately apparent as he strolls down Main Street in Kew Gardens Hills, a strip crowded with Jewish markets, kosher pizza places, and glittering gift shops selling candlesticks and cellophane-wrapped fruit baskets. Rabbi Nisanov can’t go more than a few feet without being stopped by a store-owner, a shopper, or a cousin. The owner of a newly-opened supermarket offers him some bananas for the food pantry. A friend pulls him aside with a business idea. Another invites him to a function the following week.

And that’s just when he’s running errands.

At the Jewish Institute of Queens’s annual Hanukkah dinner, he pinballed from table to lavishly decorated table, giving handshakes, hugs, and cheek kisses to friends, family and colleagues. Some wore the classic black wool hats typical of other Orthodox Jewish sects; others wore round furry caps or colorful embroidered yarmulkes. Some, especially the young attendees, went bare-headed and dressed in street clothes. Orthodox or secular, Nisanov—who as an ordained rabbi is on the observant end of the spectrum—embraced them all.

“I don’t care if you’re religious,” he said. “You’re a Jew, you’re family.”

But privately, he says that the younger generation’s assimilation into American culture concerns him. When Bukharians first arrived in the United States, he explained, their Central Asian heritage made them stand out like a sore thumb.

“We got a lot of weird looks because we don’t look Ashkenazi,” he said, referring to the descendants of Yiddish-speaking Eastern European Jews, who make up much of the city’s Jewish population.

But the second generation has adopted American dress, culture, and more, he said.

The young men at Melody Restaurant certainly had. Dressed in jeans and sneakers, they sat around a table at the otherwise-empty Kew Gardens restaurant, eating french fries, drinking Glenlivet, and ribbing each other in a mixture of Bukharian and English.

“Did you know Eliezer?” he asked.

They nodded, silent and suddenly solemn.

They were talking about Eliezer Aronov, a 21-year-old who’d died of a suspected heroin overdose just a few days earlier. Rabbi Nisanov had identified the body and used his connections to negotiate its release for burial within the 24-hour window mandated by Jewish law, he said.

“The second time I have to ID a 21-year-old,” he said, shaking his head. “I hate it.”

The Bukharian community has been hit hard by the opioid epidemic ravaging the rest of the nation, according to DNAInfo’s Ewa Kern-Jedrychowska. A source of hers counted at least nine other overdoses in 2017.

Nisanov agreed that drugs were a problem in his community, especially among young people.

“The youth is very lost,” Nisanov said. “They’re struggling.” He jerked his head toward the young men across the restaurant. “Drinking, not studying Torah.”

But Nisanov’s efforts to reach out to young Bukharians—his synagogue’s after-school program, his frequent check-ins with young adults and their parents—haven’t gone unnoticed.

“He’s a great guy,” said Elli Matatov, a young Bukharian server at the restaurant. “He does really help this community a lot.”

Despite his concerns about assimilation, Nisanov isn’t opposed to American culture. In fact, he credits his American upbringing with his success as a community leader. Other Bukharian leaders, he explained, grew up in Israel before coming to Queens. Nisanov, meanwhile, came to the United States at the age of 9.

“I’m American,” he said. “I grew up on Tom and Jerry. I wear a suit. I drive a Sienna.”

That openness extends to American values, too. Nisanov feels that they’re uniquely compatible with the Jewish faith.

“Where else can you freely believe what you believe?” he said. “Judaism is built on choice. That’s why Judaism will never become the dominant religion.”

To thrive, Nisanov says, Bukharians must acculturate—that is, integrate into the community while retaining the best of Bukharian culture and values.

“Tradition is what keeps us together,” he said.

One of these traditions is an intense devotion to the memories of loved ones who have passed away. Rabbi Nisanov’s daily duties show the depth of this commitment. In addition to identifying and guarding bodies, he speaks at yartzeits, or memorials, and recently traveled to Israel for less than a day to attend to the burial of a family member. During one interview, he took breaks to speak at two yartzeits—one at the catering hall next door to the restaurant, another at a catering hall in Rego Park.

For Bukharians, ministering to the living and the dead is a full-time job—and then some.

“You are on call 24/7,” he said. “Lots of people start on the path to being a rabbi; not all finish."

But for Nisanov, it’s a it’s a good fit—and a welcome alternative to a desk job.