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Sicily’s Jews have their first rabbi in 500 years. Italy’s Jewish establishment won’t accept them.
CATANIA, Italy (JTA) — Rabbi Gilberto Ventura believes his synagogue has the most beautiful view in the world. Located in the tower of a century-old castle on the slopes of Mt. Etna in the eastern Sicilian city of Catania, the synagogue is wedged between a snow-capped volcano and the sun-kissed Mediterranean sea.
The 49-year-old Brazil-born rabbi also thinks his congregation is one of the most unique in the world. It’s made up mainly of Bnei Anusim — descendants of Jews forced to hide their religious practice and convert to Catholicism after the Spanish Inquisition of 1492. Before that infamous decree, Sicily was home to tens of thousands of Jews.
The synagogue, which was first inaugurated last fall, is the result of decades of grassroots efforts by those descendants in Catania to find each other and forge a sense of community that had been lacking for centuries.
Hiring a full-time rabbi was the last piece of the puzzle, and Ventura, who has a long history of working with communities of Bnei Anusim in Brazil, was a natural candidate. He arrived in Catania in January.
“I really believe that the future Judaism in the world, especially in some places like Italy and, of course, Brazil, is connected to the Bnei Anusim, and the need to embrace the Bnei Anusim,” Ventura said.
But in an ongoing point of frustration, the formal organization representing Italian Jewry, the Union of Italian Jewish Communities (UCEI), does not recognize them as Jews.
“In the case of Catania, this strange Jewish community hasn’t passed all the steps the law requires,” said Giulio Di Segni, the vice president of UCEI.
He was referring to the fact that the community did not seek UCEI’s permission before establishing themselves under the name “Jewish community of Catania.” Per Italian law, UCEI has a monopoly on acknowledging and establishing Jewish communal life in Italy — including authority over who can use the term “Jewish community of” in formal ways.
“UCEI can’t accept this because it is too easy,” he added. “We are not against their synagogue or their way of prayer, but they cannot use the name ‘Jewish community of Catania.’”
The rooftop of the Castello Leucatia, where the community meets, has a large menorah and a view of the Mediterranean. (David I. Klein)
Catania’s Jewish community members told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency a variety of stories about their Jewish backgrounds. Some came from families that always outwardly identified as Jewish. Others identified the source of family traditions practiced by parents and grandparents who — as descendants of Jews who faced persecution for practicing Judaism — still felt the need to hide aspects of their Jewishness from the public eye.
In the midst of questions about their ancestry, the majority of the Jewish community members have undergone Orthodox conversions. But that hasn’t led to their acceptance.
Benito Triolo, president of the Catania Jewish community, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that he first came to Judaism at the age of 40, thanks to the insight of a Jewish friend in Palermo, Sicily’s capital and most populous city. Working together, they established a Charter of Sicilian Jewry, which aimed to identify and highlight the Jewish heritage of neighborhoods across the island.
While working on that project, Triolo came closer to his own Jewish heritage, and after years of study, he completed an Orthodox conversion through a rabbi in Miami 25 years ago.
Another community member, who was born Alessandro Scuderi but today goes by the name of Yoram Nathan, first felt drawn to Judaism as a child watching news of the Six-Day War in 1967. At first, he was laughed at by other members of his family — except his grandmother, who happened to have a tradition of lighting eight candles in early winter and baking flat unleavened bread around Easter time.
Decades of study later, Scuderi also completed a formal conversion to Judaism before an Orthodox rabbinic court, or beit din.
Others had more straightforward backgrounds.
“I was born in a Jewish family,” said David Scibilia, the community’s secretary. “Frankly speaking, we were not hiding or deep in the shadows in this part of the country.”
Scibilia said that his father explained to him that he was a Jew as early as the age of four. Within their own home, they observed holidays and kept Shabbat — no easy task since Italian schools at the time of his childhood in the 1970s had class on Saturdays. He did not eat meat until he was an adult and was able to acquire kosher meat.
He said that his family had maintained their Jewish identity since the days of the Inquisition and married amongst a small group of other similar families.
“I was a Jew, but not part of any community,” Scibilia said. “Just my family was my community.”
An aerial view of the city of Catania shows the Mt. Etna volcano in the background, Jan. 28, 28, 2022. (Fabrizio Villa/Getty Images)
Scibilia explained that once he had a child of his own, he realized he did not want her to have the same lonely Jewish experience. But when he reached out to UCEI, he said he found the proverbial door to organized Jewish life shut. Earning membership in Jewish community organizations across Western Europe involves a strict vetting process, and many groups require applicants to prove their mothers’ Jewishness according to varying standards.
Scibilia’s experience was echoed by Jews outside of the community in Catania and across Italy’s south who talked to JTA — a feeling of neglect or rejection by UCEI for those who fall outside of the norms of Italian Judaism.
UCEI currently recognizes 19 Jewish communities across northern Italy and just one in the south, in Naples, which has jurisdiction over the rest of the southern half of the peninsula and the island of Sicily. The organization recognizes around 28,000 Jews in total across the country.
Scibilia noted that despite his Jewish upbringing, he has multiple certificates of conversion from Orthodox rabbis. The first came from a beit din of American rabbis from who traveled to Syracuse, Sicily, to assess Scibilia and others like him in Sicily. His second comes from the conversion court of the Israeli Chief Rabbinate, which is known for its exacting Orthodox standards.
Both were rejected by Italy’s own Orthodox rabbinate, and he was forced to stand before another rabbinic court in Italy.
“I have at this moment — don’t start to laugh — three documents that prove that I am a Jew, two Ketubah [marriage contracts] for my wedding, and so on, again and again and again,” Scibilia said.
Others’ experiences in the region have been even more fraught, he said.
“The problem in Italy, that if you try to study with any rabbi here, you can study for 20 years, maybe you can die even before you reach the end of the tunnel,” he said. “From my point of view, they are playing with the spirituality of these people.”
In a statement last year, UCEI called the the Catanians “a phantom ‘Jewish community’” and accused them of “misleading the local institutions and deluding believers and sympathizers into adhering to traditional religious rites, never actually recognized or authorized by the Italian rabbinical authority.”
“Between UCEI and the Italian republic is an agreement signed in ‘87,” Di Segni said. “This law means everything about Jewish communities in Italy is through the Union Jewish community in Italy (UCEI).”
Noemi Di Segni, shown in Rome in 2017, is president of the Union of Jewish Communities in Italy. (Stefano Montesi/Corbis via Getty Images)
Triolo said he isn’t too concerned about UCEI’s recognition.
“Ours is a process of refounding old communities that existed as early as 200 and up to 1492,” Triolo said. “Our recognition is already in our history. At that time the UCEI did not exist. We were there and we simply returned!”
No one knows when Jews first arrived in Sicily, but the Talmud tells a story that claims Rabbi Akiva, a well-known early rabbinic sage, visited the island in the early second century and told of a small Jewish community in Syracuse. Some historians believe the Roman writer Caecilius Calactinus — who was born in a town near Messina in the first century B.C.E — to have been of Jewish origin.
All agree that over the course of history, Sicily’s Jews watched as the island was traded between Greeks, Carthaginians, Romans, Arabs, Normans and half a dozen other empires. The narrative has also long been that Jewish life there ended five centuries ago, under Spanish rule.
The Spanish empire’s Jews suffered the same fate as Jews from the Iberian peninsula, who would become known to the world as Sephardim when they were expelled in 1492.
The descendents of Spain — and Sicily — spread throughout the world, establishing communities in North Africa, throughout the Ottoman empire, in the Netherlands and ultimately the British Isles and North America, as it was believed that Judaism faded away in their homelands.
Catania’s Jews disagree, arguing that many Jews practiced their religion over the centuries, in secret.
Triolo and others in the community formally inaugurated their synagogue in October. It was furnished with Torah scrolls donated by the Ohev Sholom synagogue in Washington, D.C.
The synagogue is situated in the tower of the Castello Luecatia, an early 20th-century structure built by a merchant believed to be of Jewish origin. The building was granted to the community by the city’s municipality.
“So they had the people, they had a synagogue, but they needed somebody to teach,” Ventura said.
The community meets in the Castello Luecatia, an early 20th-century structure built by a merchant believed to be of Jewish origin. (David I. Klein)
Ventura, who is Orthodox, may be the island’s first permanent working rabbi in over 500 years, but it’s not his first time working with Bnei Anusim.
Back in his native Brazil, Ventura was the leader of the Synagogue Without Borders, an organization through which he served 15 communities in Brazil’s north that were made up of descendants of Jews who came with the first Portuguese colonists to South America and who ultimately had to hide their identity as the Inquisition spread to the New World.
His work there put him in conflict with Brazil’s Jewish establishment, too. But Ventura is unfazed.
In Brazil, he founded synagogues and summer camps and built mikvahs and yeshivas across the country’s north. Since 2015, he has facilitated the conversion of hundreds of Bnei Anusim, bringing them back into the fold of mainstream Orthodox Judaism.
“I am a teacher since I was 21 years old,” he said. “Now I am 49, along with my wife. It’s one of the things we love to do, and know how to do. To teach Jewish philosophy, to teach Torah, to teach Tanakh, to teach the story of the Jews in Brazil, and now we are starting to teach the story of the Jews in Italy, the story of the Inquisition etcetera.”
In Castello Leucatia, he leads Shabbat services with the energy of a gospel preacher, pausing between prayers to explain a verse, teach a new tune, welcome latecomers, or simply to allow the congregation to talk.
Catania community members are shown at a recent gathering. (David I. Klein)
“This is what’s most important,” he remarked during one such lull on a recent Friday night. “That they get to talk and be a community.”
Ventura had organized a Shabbat event for other Jews across Italy — from Naples to Turin — who shared his belief that the future of Judaism was in communities like the one in Catania.
“Our point of view of Judaism is that we have to be a part of society, we don’t have to insulate ourselves, we believe that Judaism has a lot to contribute to society,” Ventura said. “In Brazil, we have a lot of connections with people from the periphery, in the favela and other communities, immigrants, Indians, etcetera. So that is something we want to establish here, to teach the people a Judaism that brings good things to the wider society.”
Ventura isn’t the only one working with such communities in southern Italy. Across the Strait of Messina, Jewish life has also been on the rise in Calabria — the toe of Italy’s boot — thanks to an American-born rabbi named Barbara Aiello.
Aiello, though raised in Pittsburgh, is of Calabrian descent. She returned to the land of her ancestors in the early 2000s and began working with the Bnei Anusim there, ultimately establishing a synagogue called Ner Tamid del Sud, meaning “eternal light of the south.”
“Until now, nobody took care of Judaism in the south of Italy,” Scibilia said while looking out at the Mediterranean from the terrace of Castello Leucatia.
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The biggest impediment to peace between Israelis and Palestinians has little to do with Gaza
The Gaza war may finally be over, and the idea of a Palestinian state has returned to the center of global discourse. But before it can become a reality, Palestinians will need to carry less suspicion and hatred toward Israel — which means Israel must give them fewer reasons to cultivate those reactions.
An investigation from last week by my former colleagues at The Associated Press helps show how distant we are from that outcome — not just in Gaza, but also in the West Bank.
The investigation found that, according to United Nations data that Israel does not dispute, live Israeli fire has killed at least 18 children under the age of 15 in the West Bank this year. It killed 29 children in 2023, and 23 in 2024.
Some were killed during Israeli military raids in crowded neighborhoods, others by sniper fire in calm areas. The army told AP that its open-fire regulations prohibit deliberate targeting and that it had launched some investigations. But it did not say whether anyone had been punished. The families of the deceased children report receiving little information from the army about the circumstances of their deaths, or any consequences meted out in reaction to them.
Israel’s security concerns about the West Bank are legitimate. The strategic ridge surrounds Jerusalem on three sides and overlooks Tel Aviv and the coastal plain. An attack from there could be catastrophic; if a group like Hamas were ever to take control there, the consequences are dire.
But the need for Israel’s security cannot justify the killing of children — not one, not 18, not 29. So long as the Palestinians of the West Bank live in fear of their own children joining those grim ranks, there cannot be a chance for a real, lasting peace.
Consider just some of the children killed this year, whose stories AP collected:
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- Layla, age 2: Tayma Asous, a single mother in the Jenin refugee camp, said that on Jan. 25, while her daughter Layla sat on her lap, an Israeli sniper fired through their second-floor window. The bullet struck Laila in the skull. Her grandfather lifted her and ran downstairs shouting for help. Layla, who was breathing when the ambulance arrived, died en route to the hospital. The army said it is still investigating, and could not provide details.
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- Rimas, age 13: On Feb. 21 — the 32nd day of an Israeli operation in Jenin — Rimas Amouri went to play outside, even though her mother, Rudaina, objected. Seconds after she left, Rudaina heard gunfire and screams. “They shot her in the back,” Rudaina said. “I screamed, ‘Please stop, stop!’ Then they started shooting at me.” About 10 soldiers surrounded the house and fired on her when she tried to reach her daughter, she said. Rimas’ father said the family required a special Israeli permit to bury her. The army said the case is under investigation, but shared no further details.
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- Mahmoud, age 14: On Jan. 14, a group of men gathered outside the Garabiya family home in Jenin. when one missile hit, then another, then a third. Only Ashraf Garabiya survived. Six people, including his son, were killed. The army said the airstrike had targeted several militants and that it was “aware of claims” of a civilian casualty. No indication of an investigation was given.
It goes on and on.
In Tulkarem, 10-year-old Saddam Rajab was caught on security footage standing on the sidewalk, turning, then being caught in a burst of gunfire and falling. He cried for his mother and died 10 days later. In Turmus Ayya, 14-year-old Amer Rabee, a Palestinian-American born in New Jersey, was shot while picking almonds with two friends, who were injured. His father said soldiers fired dozens of rounds, stripped the boy’s body, and carried it off; the army later described the victims as “three terrorists” throwing stones. In Hebron, 12-year-old Ayman al-Haimouni told his mother, “Mama, they shot me,” before collapsing. Video shows soldiers approaching his body, recoiling, and walking away without offering aid. The military police opened an investigation that has yielded no result.
Although the situation has grown especially horrible under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government, the phenomenon is not new. The Israeli philosopher and academic Yeshayahu Leibowitz warned in the early days of the occupation of the West Bank and Gaza, after the 1967 Six-Day War, that this new reality would corrupt Israeli society and devastate its moral standing.
He was not wrong. My own experience as a reporter working in and around the West Bank confronted me many times with this clear and painful fact.
The newborn baby of one Palestinian AP photographer, in the Nablus area, experienced a medical emergency; the baby died while the ambulance carrying it was delayed by Israeli troops at a checkpoint in 2002. A year later, a cameraman with whom I regularly worked, Nazeeh Darwazeh, was killed by a random bullet fired by an Israeli soldier. I remember visiting the family, and trying to console the widow and his children. They were heartbroken.
These kinds of things simply happen all the time.
Aren’t these stories, repeated so frequently after so many decades, enough to boil the blood of any normal person? How would any supporter of Israel react if this kind of indiscriminate, senseless violence happened in Israel, and the army responsible was Palestinian? If that army kept claiming that it would investigate these awful and useless slaughters, but it was obvious that any form of punishment was all but nonexistent?
Add to the mix that Netanyahu’s reckless government has normalized settler rampages, the perpetrators of which are almost never punished. Unforgivably, Israel has prosecuted few if any of the settlers who regularly rampage through Palestinian communities in what is a clear provocation aimed at creating mayhem. Settler violence, with the winks and nods of the government, is at a high — and when they are detained it is usually for assaults on Israeli soldiers, not Palestinians.
Many Israelis fear that these reckless settler provocations will unleash a third intifada. But to some far-right radicals, that would be a welcome development, as they hope for a massive war in which the Palestinians might be somehow expelled — the same outcome some far-right Israelis very plainly wished for in the Gaza war.
Israelis who have the courage to face the truth must ask themselves sincerely: How can we accept this state of affairs? How can we explain to the world — and to ourselves — that this is reasonable and moral? Is this “the fight against terror”? How can we expect our Palestinian neighbors to want to work with us toward peace?
Something is clearly sick to the core. The way out of this bloody cycle is through a true and clear separation between Israelis and Palestinians, with hope for a normal life on both sides. If this continues, more violence is likely, and the outcome may not be good for Israel — or anyone.
The post The biggest impediment to peace between Israelis and Palestinians has little to do with Gaza appeared first on The Forward.
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Pakistan-Afghanistan Clashes Highlight Limits of Saudi-Pakistani Defense Pact: Experts
Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman and Pakistan Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif embrace each other on the day they sign a defense agreement, in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Sept. 17, 2025. Photo: Saudi Press Agency/Handout via REUTERS
Amid rising tensions along the Pakistan-Afghanistan border, experts say the newly signed Saudi-Pakistani mutual defense pact is largely symbolic and unlikely to alter the regional balance of power.
On Friday, Afghanistan accused Pakistan of carrying out airstrikes on its territory, shattering a temporary ceasefire after days of escalating clashes that marked the deadliest fighting along the border in years.
“The truce has been broken and Afghanistan will retaliate,” a spokesman for the Taliban-led Afghan government said in a statement, announcing that Pakistan had “broken the ceasefire and bombed three locations in Paktika,” a province in the country’s eastern region.
Earlier this week, the two nations had agreed to a 48-hour ceasefire after border clashes killed dozens of troops.
The conflict erupted after Pakistan accused its neighbor of harboring and supporting terrorist groups responsible for attacks on its territory, while Afghanistan accused Pakistan of violating its airspace and carrying out strikes in the country’s eastern regions.
The fragile ceasefire came after appeals from major regional powers, including Saudi Arabia, with which nuclear-armed Pakistan signed a mutual defense pact last month, further solidifying a decades-long security partnership.
According to experts, the recent regional escalation shows how the Saudi-Pakistan partnership is largely symbolic, offering diplomatic backing and condemnation but unlikely to be tested in practice.
“”The recent Pakistan-Afghanistan clashes are unlikely to lead to invocation of the Saudi-Pakistan defense pact,” Edmund Fitton-Brown, a senior fellow at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies (FDD), a Washington, DC-based think tank, told The Algemeiner.
He explained that the threat from Afghanistan, while politically serious, is not strong enough to push Pakistan to seek support from a third party, since the country is far stronger than the hostile forces along the contentious border.
“The Saudis, as central players in the Islamic world, will also want to be seen as welcoming Afghanistan’s gradual rehabilitation,” Brown said, noting that even if the pact were invoked, it is unlikely they would want to intervene in the conflict.
More broadly, he argued that this recent escalation underscores the limits of the Saudi-Pakistan defense pact, emphasizing that “most of the challenges that both countries face do not rise to the level of war between states.”
“”The possible war scenarios that do exist — Pakistan with India, Saudi Arabia with Iran — are not ones in which the other party to the pact would want to get involved, and it is inconceivable that Pakistan is offering a nuclear guarantee to the Saudis,” Brown told The Algemeiner.
Pakistan has repeatedly argued that its nuclear weapons are intended solely as a deterrent against India.
As the only nuclear-armed, Muslim-majority nation with the Islamic world’s largest army, Pakistan’s newly signed defense pact has raised questions about shifts in Middle East power and regional dynamics.
“”The agreement states that any aggression against either country shall be considered an aggression against both,” the Pakistani Prime Minister’s Office said in a statement following the signing of the pact.
While no further details have been disclosed, the partnership reportedly “encompasses all military means,” ranging from armed forces and nuclear cooperation to intelligence sharing.
Pakistan has even openly declared that it “”will make available” its nuclear program to Saudi Arabia if needed.
However, experts maintain that Pakistan’s ability to provide a nuclear umbrella to Saudi Arabia is dubious, as its longest-range missile cannot reach most potential threats to the country.
“The deal’s military value appears negligible beyond its symbolic photo-op,” Brown told The Algemeiner. “Pakistan lacks the capability to project power over 2,600 miles to Saudi Arabia.”
The pact is also designed to strengthen Saudi Arabia’s long-term defense autonomy, with defense industry collaboration, technology transfer, and military co-production and training, among other key initiatives.
Although the Saudi-Pakistani relationship has long been close, Brown explained that mutual support between the two nations has faced significant limitations.
“This new mutual defense pact is likely to remain a symbolic agreement, with its main applicability in nonbelligerent arenas, such as training and procurement,” he told The Algemiener.
Experts have also noted that the new pact could heighten regional tensions, strengthening Saudi Arabia’s defenses against Iran and its allies while also signaling its strategic posture toward Israel.
Yet, Brown argued that it makes little sense to suggest the pact is directed at Israel, given there is no realistic prospect of conflict between the Jewish state and either Saudi Arabia or Pakistan, whereas Iran remains far more active against both countries.
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An attack on Israeli soccer fans last year was dubbed a ‘pogrom.’ Could it happen again?
When fans of the soccer team Maccabi Tel Aviv were assaulted in the streets of Amsterdam after a game last November, the violence drew comparisons to pogroms. It even prompted Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to dispatch rescue planes to evacuate Israeli citizens.
Now, once again there are fears of a repeat outbreak of violence, this time over a match in Birmingham, England.
Local police reportedly requested supporters of Maccabi Tel Aviv be kept away from the match against the English team Aston Villa, classifying the sporting event as a “high risk” threat to public safety. On Thursday, authorities told Israeli fans they would be banned from attending.
But after that move sparked accusations of antisemitism, the British government said it is doing “everything in its power” to reverse the decision and let Israeli fans buy tickets.
“This is the wrong decision. We will not tolerate antisemitism on our streets,” Prime Minister Keir Starmer posted to X. “The role of the police is to ensure all football fans can enjoy the game, without fear of violence or intimidation.”
What happened at the game in Amsterdam?
The day before a November 2024 game against the Dutch team AFC Ajax, Maccabi Tel Aviv fans vandalized a taxi and burned a Palestinian flag, police said.
After the game, groups of men on scooters roamed the streets looking for Israeli fans, beating and kicking them and throwing fireworks, police said. At least five Israelis were hospitalized, and more than 60 people were arrested. Authorities uncovered WhatsApp and Telegram messages prior to the attacks urging a “Jew hunt.”
Amsterdam Mayor Femke Halsema called the attacks “antisemitic hit-and-run squads.” Others drew Holocaust comparisons, with Netanyahu noting the assaults took place near the anniversary of Kristallnacht.
“We failed the Jewish community of the Netherlands during World War II, and last night we failed again,” King Willem-Alexander of the Netherlands said the morning after the attacks.
Days later, protesters set fire to a tram car in Amsterdam while shouting “Free Palestine” and “Kanker Joden,” or “cancer Jews.”
Israel’s growing isolation
Fallout over Gaza in the world of international sports suggests just how perilous Israel’s international standing has become.
Earlier this week, the Court of Arbitration for Sport confirmed that Israel would be barred from competing at the gymnastics world championship in Indonesia this weekend. The court said it had no control over Indonesia’s decision to deny Israeli athletes visas, which was made amid outcry over Israel’s military offensive in Gaza.
At a September cycling race in Spain, the presence of an Israeli team drew thousands of protesters, forcing the race to end 31 miles short of the finish line.
Meanwhile, the International Federation of Muaythai Associations in August banned the display of the Israeli flag and the playing of Israel’s national anthem at all its martial arts competitions.
In the United Kingdom, some argued that banning Maccabi Tel Aviv fans wasn’t enough, calling for the team itself to be barred from competition.
In the leadup to the ban on supporters of the Israeli team, British MP Ayoub Khan and former Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn launched a petition to cancel the game entirely, citing both the “ongoing genocide in Gaza” and the “track record of violence by Maccabi Tel Aviv fans.” The petition, which launched in September prior to the ceasefire, drew nearly 4,000 signatures.
The tensions have also impacted major international tournaments. Last month, the European soccer federation UEFA was reportedly set to vote on banning Israel from international competition over the war in Gaza — a move that would have prevented the country from qualifying for the 2026 World Cup. The vote was paused, however, following the announcement last week of the Gaza ceasefire.
On Friday, local officials called a meeting for an “immediate review” of the decision to ban Maccabi Tel Aviv fans, with sources telling The Athletic they expect the policy to be reversed.
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