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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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Workplaces open, schools remain shut — and Israeli parents pull out their hair over wartime Zoom classes
(JTA) — TEL AVIV — When news broke that Israel might gradually reopen schools in areas considered safe enough, Yael Daniel, a mother in Bat Yam in the missile-hit center of the country, joked that she was “moving north.”
The war has shut schools and pushed children onto Zoom learning while many parents, like Daniel, keep working. Trying to supervise remote lessons for her three children, ages 6 to 8, who have attention difficulties, while holding down a full-time job has turned each day into “a nightmare,” she said.
“These are kids that need to be in a serious routine, and they’re not, and it’s really hard. I’m suffering,” she said.
The strain intensified after the IDF’s Home Front Command allowed workplaces to reopen last week under updated wartime guidelines, even as the education system remained closed.
Israeli actress and mother of two Meshi Kleinstein was one of many parents who took to social media as the decision drew anger and disbelief. “What a delusional country. Who looks after the children when the parents return to work?” she said on Instagram.
In response to the outcry, Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich announced Sunday that one parent in households with children under 14 would be allowed to take unpaid leave while the education system remains shut.
The move prompted further backlash from parents who say it effectively forces families to choose between supervising children at home and losing income.
And for some, like Zehavit, who was speaking from a bomb shelter during a siren in the central city of Jaffa, it didn’t make sense. “Just because my child is 14, does that automatically mean he’s fine to be alone and run to the shelter by himself in the event of a siren?”
Outside the shelter, another mother, Renana, said the arrangement has forced her to reorganize her workday around her son’s online classes.
“I have one child in first grade. Since the Zoom classes started I work less because he uses my computer,” she said.
“He has three consecutive hours with different teachers and I need to sit next to him so he can communicate with them, which means I’m listening to the whole lesson and not working.”
Claire Bloom Moradian spends her days shuffling her children between school Zooms, extracurricular Zooms and playdates just to approximate a routine. “It’s just chaos, I’m absolutely exhausted,” she said.
In a Facebook post, Rachel Sharansky Danziger recounted that the return to Zoom after Oct. 7 was “the straw that broke the camel’s back,” leaving her so overwhelmed that she called a mental health hotline at the time, unable to understand why “all the death, the kidnappings, the horror” had not broken her, but remote learning did.
Zoom had revived the helplessness of the Covid years, she said, with too few devices, constant technical glitches and children yelling that nothing was working — all against a backdrop of dread about what might be looming outside the apartment doors.
“I can be strong,” she had told the woman on the other end of the helpline. “I can be positive and supportive and encouraging and manage myself and the domestic and social arena around me with precision and strength and awareness of the needs of those around me. But I can’t do all of this while trying to solve dozens of technological problems every morning.”
Education Minister Yoav Kisch said on Monday morning that he is examining a gradual reopening of schools using a color-coded system, with institutions expected to resume first in areas classified as “yellow,” meaning places where security conditions and access to protected spaces would allow limited in-person learning, with parents responsible for getting children to school.
About 40% of Israeli schools cannot offer all of their students access to bomb shelters if a siren sounds, according to data released this week.
Kisch’s terminology was another reminder of the pandemic-era, in which cities were ranked by color according to infection levels, with tighter restrictions in “red” areas. On social media, some parents greeted Kisch’s proposal with weary sarcasm. “Ah, yes, the color chart. Because that went so well the first time,” one person tweeted in response.
Municipal leaders were divided over whether to implement Kisch’s plan. Haifa Mayor Yona Yahav said the city would keep schools closed for now, saying he had “no intention of endangering students, drivers, and teaching staff,” as officials weighed the risks of transporting children during ongoing alerts. Others signaled they would move ahead. Roy Levy, mayor of nearby Nesher, said schools would reopen in line with Home Front Command guidelines, calling a return to classrooms “an emotional and social need.” Jerusalem Mayor Moshe Lion also said he would partially reopen the city’s education system, citing the need for “a routine, an educational framework and meetings with friends and teachers.”
But by Monday evening, Kisch was forced to backpedal after the IDF’s Home Front Command said that wartime restrictions would stay in effect across the country, keeping schools shut for now. A limited reopening may be attempted again starting next week — or not.
In one of the darkest incidents to emerge from Israel’s forced return to Zoom schooling, a teacher in Jerusalem was attacked by her partner in front of her students during an online lesson. He struck her in the head and smashed objects in their home before being arrested, later telling investigators he had acted out of “feelings of jealousy.”
Reports of domestic violence in Israel tend to rise during periods of war and home confinement. Data compiled after Oct. 7 showed a 28% increase in calls to Israel’s welfare ministry hotline related to domestic violence, sexual abuse and child neglect during the first months of the war.
Not everyone viewed Zoom as futile. Nataly Peleg, a first-grade teacher, said the classes are less about academics than about giving children a welcome distraction — even if she does not compel her own children to join theirs.
“It’s not so much whether they learn or not,” she said. “It’s about being together for a bit and focusing on something that isn’t the sirens and the surreal situations around us.”
Some children find the classes comforting, she said, while others are simply waiting for them to end or do not join at all. Still, she said, many parents have told her they appreciate the effort. “If even a handful of kids feel a bit better, it’s worth it,” she said.
Daniel, for her part, is trying to keep things in perspective. Despite feeling “super overwhelmed,” she said she is thankful her family is safe.
“Things could always be worse,” she said. “I’m just grateful we are all OK.”
In her post, Danziger said she was passing on the advice the hotline counselor had given her more than two and a half years ago.
“Don’t. Don’t let distance learning control you,” she said, adding that “nothing terrible would happen if your kids don’t join some of the Zooms — or, to be honest, all of them.”
While “we parents may not be bombing Tehran or deciphering nuclear secrets right now,” she wrote, “the responsibility for our children’s education and the functioning of our homes is still in our hands.”
The post Workplaces open, schools remain shut — and Israeli parents pull out their hair over wartime Zoom classes appeared first on The Forward.
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Ted Cruz says GOP not ‘winning’ fight against antisemitism from figures like Tucker Carlson
(JTA) — WASHINGTON — Some speakers struck a hopeful note during an antisemitism symposium on Tuesday morning hosted here by the Republican Jewish Coalition and National Review.
Ted Cruz was not one of them.
“Norm [Coleman, chair of the RJC] just said that we are winning. And I applaud him for that, because I want us to be winning,” Cruz said. “But I’m not sure it is accurate as a descriptive matter that we are winning right now.”
Cruz was referring to an ongoing battle within the Republican party over figures like Tucker Carlson and Candace Owens, conservative influencers who’ve spread antisemitic conspiracy theories.
It wasn’t the Texas senator’s first time speaking to the RJC crowd with grave warnings about right-wing antisemitism and anti-Israel rhetoric. He called antisemitism “an existential crisis in our party” at the RJC’s annual summit in November, which was held shortly after Carlson gave a friendly interview to avowed antisemite Nick Fuentes.
Four months later, Cruz’s speech served as a sobering follow-up: “This is the beginning of a battle where our nation, our beliefs, our Constitution, the principles that built America, are under assault. And we need to gird ourselves for battle and defeat this garbage,” he said Tuesday.
Cruz was far from the only speaker stressing the importance of rooting out right-wing antisemitism at the half-day symposium. The 100 or so attendees at the Museum of the Bible heard from speakers on how antisemitism is spread via social media, on policy responses to antisemitism, and why American exceptionalism is said to be inextricable from Jewish exceptionalism.
Cruz seemed to contradict Coleman’s assertion that “we are winning and they” — that is, “prominent polemicists” like Carlson, Owens and younger figures like Fuentes and Florida gubernatorial candidate James Fishback, who traffic in “ancient hatred” — are “losing.”
Nonetheless, Coleman said in an interview after the event, he and Cruz are on the same page.
“First of all, I’m an optimist. Second of all, I could understand Sen. Cruz’s concern,” said Coleman, suggesting that Cruz didn’t want to leave the impression that the GOP’s internecine battle over antisemitism was over and “this isn’t a fight that has to be fought.
“It has to be fought tooth and nail because it’s so critically important,” said Coleman.
He added, “We haven’t won the fight. I think we’re winning the fight — and by the way, that’s shown in the fact that 85-90% of Republicans are on our side.”
Still, Coleman — who said in his public remarks that they are “not fringe figures whispering in dark corners,” and that they “have large megaphones” — later dismissed Carlson, Owens and Fuentes as being “fringe voices on our side.” Cruz, on the other hand, said during his remarks that antisemitism “is gaining real purchase, especially with young people.”
“I don’t want to wake up in five years and find myself in a country where both major political parties are unambiguously anti-Israel and unapologetically antisemitic,” Cruz said. “And I think that is a real possibility. If Tucker and his minions prevail, that will happen.”
To stop that from happening, Cruz said Christian pastors need to fight Carlson “on theological grounds” by dispelling the replacement theory that Carlson “aggressively” pushes. He also said there should be an effort to “follow the money” because he suspects that “many of these influencers are cashing a check” from countries like Qatar, Russia and China, as part of “an operation to destroy America.”
Cruz was far more explicit in his condemnations of Carlson than he’d been in November, when he held back from using the former Fox News personality’s name.
“I believe Tucker Carlson is the single-most dangerous demagogue in this country,” Cruz said on Tuesday, drawing applause.
“And I’ll tell you,” he said, “I’ve made the decision that I’m going to take him on directly.”
The debate over antisemitism and figures like Carlson and Owens has roiled the American conservative movement. More Republicans have weighed in over the last few months, including Trump, who said last week that Carlson is “not MAGA” after the commentator criticized American and Israeli strikes on Iran. Meanwhile, Vice President JD Vance has not publicly denounced Carlson, drawing skepticism and growing impatience from some Jewish Republicans.
Cruz blasted his fellow Republicans who have not publicly condemned Carlson.
“Nick Fuentes is easy to denounce,” he said. “I actually think it’s a tell among Republican politicians — if they’ll denounce Fuentes but are scared to say Tucker’s name, that tells you a great deal.”
Cruz did not name any such politicians.
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‘Path to Normalization’: Lebanese President Turns on Hezbollah, Calls for Israel Talks
Lebanese President Joseph Aoun looks on during a meeting with Cyprus’ President Nikos Christodoulides at the Presidential Palace in Nicosia, Cyprus, July 9, 2025. Photo: Petros Karadjias/Pool via REUTERS
Lebanese President Joseph Aoun on Monday accused Hezbollah of dragging Lebanon toward becoming a “second Gaza” with its rocket attacks on Israel and called for negotiating a full ceasefire with Jerusalem, saying the launches served “the Iranian regime’s calculations” and risked “collapsing” the country.
Aoun’s remarks, among the most direct criticism of Iran-backed Hezbollah by a Lebanese president in years, accused the Islamist terror group of launching rockets as an “obvious trap” to lure his country back into a conflict with Israel.
“Whoever launched those rockets wanted to secure the fall of the Lebanese state, under aggression and chaos, even at the price of destroying dozens of our villages and the fall of tens of thousands of our people. For the sake of the Iranian regime’s calculations,” Aoun told European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen and European Council President António Costa in an online meeting.
Earlier this month, he added, the Lebanese government made “a clear and irrevocable decision” barring any military or security activity by Hezbollah.
An Israeli coalition of former diplomats, security experts, and business leaders called Aoun’s remarks a “courageous” and potentially “historic” opening by a Lebanese government seeking to disarm Hezbollah.
“Israel must seize the moment to create the necessary conditions for shaping a negotiated reality along the northern border — one that would constitute a significant strategic victory against Iran and further isolate it,” the Coalition for Regional Security said in a statement.
The group praised the “anti-Iranian Lebanese government” for seeking to disarm Hezbollah, but warned that “it is unable to accomplish this task alone.”
According to Lianne Pollak-David, the coalition’s founder, the current US-Israeli strikes on Iran were creating more space for Beirut to confront Hezbollah openly.
“The more Iran is weakened and isolated, the more the Lebanese government feels confident going directly and publicly against Hezbollah,” she told The Algemeiner.
But Pollak-David argued the Lebanese government could not disarm Hezbollah on its own and would need help from outside powers, including Israel. That, she said, would force Israel to walk a “very tricky fine line” to break Hezbollah on the one hand, without leaving Beirut to absorb the blowback by itself.
She called for “collaborating with the Lebanese government, leveraging all the regional coalition that has been formed around this war, and, under [US President Donald] Trump’s leadership, pushing for a new reality in Lebanon.”
Iran’s military and political incapacitation could even open the way to more regional peace agreements, she said.
“Everything is connected,” Pollak-David said. “The more Iran is isolated and the more its proxies are weakened, the more we’re seeing all the moderate forces in the region coordinating and collaborating,” increasing the chances of “Israel-Lebanese normalization and Israel-Arab normalization altogether.”
But Hezbollah expert Lieutenant Colonel (Res.) Sarit Zehavi offered a far more skeptical view, questioning whether Aoun’s remarks signaled any real change on the ground.
“I don’t see the difference between Aoun’s remarks now and his remarks when he was elected, except for the willingness to have direct negotiations with Israel,” she told The Algemeiner.
When Aoun took office in January of last year, he said Lebanon must eventually ensure weapons are held only by the state, but he also said repeatedly that this had to happen through dialogue, not confrontation.
“The biggest question at stake, which I don’t get an answer to, is whether Aoun’s army is willing to clash with Hezbollah, because that is what it will take to disarm it,” Zehavi said, noting Aoun’s fear that such a clash could lead to civil war.
She pointed to reports from Monday that Hezbollah operatives arrested while transporting weapons south were released almost immediately on token bail of $20, which she said showed how little appetite Beirut had demonstrated for a real confrontation with the terrorist group.
Zehavi, who founded the Alma Center — a research center that focuses on security challenges relating to Israel’s northern border — said Aoun would need to do far more than denounce Hezbollah or talk about state authority over weapons before Israel could treat his government as a real partner. The first step, she said, was for his government to formally outlaw Hezbollah and take concrete action against it.
“I will be much more convinced in Aoun’s good intentions if he designates Hezbollah as a terrorist entity,” she said. “Meanwhile, I don’t think we should negotiate with this Lebanese government.”
Until then, she said, Israel should keep up its attacks on Hezbollah, particularly south of the Litani River, located roughly 15 miles from the Israeli border.