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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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His kippah was a symbol of coexistence. Israeli police officers seized and destroyed it.
(JTA) — Alex Sinclair had no idea what would follow when he posted a picture of his mutilated kippah to Facebook on Thursday.
Sinclair, who lives in central Israel, described being detained by police officers who told him that his kippah, which had both the Israeli and Palestinian flags woven in, was illegal. When he was released from their custody, he was allowed to take his kippah home — but only after the Palestinian flag was cut out, leaving him with roughly half a head-covering.
To Sinclair, a British-born writer and educator whose books include “Loving the Real Israel: An Educational Agenda for Liberal Zionism,” the situation was galling, and not just because he had been accused of breaking a law that does not exist.
“She’d taken my possession, a religious ritual object, something that is very dear to my heart, and destroyed it,” he wrote about the officer who returned his kippah. He added, “That was it. I walked home, shaken, angry, depressed.”
A day after publishing his account of the encounter, eliciting hundreds of almost universally supportive comments, Sinclair said he had not heard from anyone in the government about his Facebook post or the complaint he filed on the Israel Police website.
But he had gotten offers of legal aid; calls from left-wing politicians, including Yair Golan; and even Shabbat flowers from a prominent liberal activist. His phone had been ringing off the hook with calls from journalists, and someone he barely knows was planning a rally for outside the police station in Modiin where he was detained.
“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” Sinclair said in an interview with the Jewish Telegraphic Agency on Friday afternoon.
The Israel Police has acknowledged the incident, saying publicly that a man had been detained after they were contacted about his kippah and had been released “following a clarification process.” They said the official complaint about the incident prevented further comment.
Sinclair said he thought the image of the defiled kippah was resonant for Jews who instinctively associated it with centuries of antisemitism. But he said he wondered whether the depth of the response reflected something else, too.
After the ceasefire in the Iran war, Israelis were “beginning to be able to breathe a little bit and look above the parapet and just sort of see, OK, maybe we can start to think about the future in a way that we really weren’t able to as a society for the past couple of years,” he said. Now, the thought for many is: “If we are looking ahead, oh my God, is this what is in store for us?”
The incident comes amid a broad crackdown on Palestinian symbols in public spaces, and allegations that police, who have come under the control of a far-right minister, are increasingly intimidating liberal activists.
Soon after being named national security minister in January 2023, Itamar Ben-Gvir told Israeli police officers to exercise wide latitude in removing Palestinian national flags from public places in order to preserve public order. He characterized the flag as a terrorist symbol, even though it is legal in Israel.
“It cannot be that lawbreakers wave terrorist flags, incite and encourage terrorism, so I ordered the removal of flags supporting terrorism from the public space and to stop the incitement against Israel,” he said at the time. Following the Oct. 7 attack on Israel later that year, the crackdown intensified even more.
During the same period, the police have been accused of using inappropriate force against people protesting against the right-wing government. Sinclair said he was concerned about the threats to liberal values in his chosen country.
“The job as a police officer is not to police people’s political opinions,” he said. “That happens in other countries that we don’t want to become.”
Among the hundreds of people responding to Sinclair’s Facebook post were many who echoed that sentiment — even while saying they did not share his appreciation for the Palestinian flag. (Elsewhere in Israel and online, Sinclair drew more scorn.)
“While I don’t agree with your choice of kippa, I do agree you have every right to wear it,” wrote one commenter. “This is awful and I’m sorry you experienced it. And I hate that this is where we are now, that someone could be detained for something like this.”
Gilad Kariv, a Reform rabbi and member of the opposition in Israel’s parliament, said in a statement that there was “systemic madness” within the Israel Police and that he believed a criminal investigation and civil lawsuit would be appropriate. He also called for introspection.
“If police officers had cut off a Jew’s kippah in any other country in the world, there would have been an uproar here in Israel,” Kariv wrote.
Sinclair said the kippah that was destroyed was not his first with the same design. After the wind blew away the first one, which he had custom-made by a popular Jerusalem vendor nearly 20 years ago, he ordered a replacement — that’s how motivated he was to wear his values on his head.
“I’m a Zionist, and I believe in the Jewish people’s right to self-determination in this part of their historic homeland. And I also think that the Palestinians are also people who have a right to self-determination in part of this place, which is also their historic homeland,” Sinclair said.
“By the ironies of history, the same chunk of land ended up being a place where two peoples have a legitimate connection, and we have to figure that out,” he continued. “People from both sides who want to delegitimize or erase the other side forget about whether they’re being nice or nasty; they’re just not being true to history.”
That was once a relatively widely held view among Israelis and Jews around the world. But decades of failed peace efforts, violent attacks on Israelis from Palestinian terrorists, and increasing extremism among both Jews and Arabs have caused a two-state solution to fall sharply out of favor during that period.
Sinclair says he sees himself as a peace activist, though he called the term “grandiose” and said, “I’ve got a lot of respect for people whose life is much more about the activism than mine.”
What he is, he says, is a Jew who loves Israel and is scared for its future. His next book, out this fall, will tackle what he believes is “a struggle for the soul of the Jewish people,” a topic on which he has suddenly become an unwilling case study.
On one side, he said, are far-right extremists, including Ben-Gvir, who “want a kind of Judaism and an Israel which doesn’t have a place for all kinds of things that feel very important to me,” including egalitarianism, Palestinians and left-leaning politics. (That side, he noted, is currently advancing legislation that would ban egalitarian prayer at the Western Wall.) On the other, he said, are those who promote an Israel that “is open and pluralist,” one in which people tolerate people who practice Judaism in ways they would not and hold values they do not.
“We’re in a struggle between these two versions of Judaism and versions of Zionism,” Sinclair said. “I very much hope that we’ll win the struggle. I think it’s not too late to win that struggle. … But it’s not a slam-dunk. And we, the Jewish people, are in real trouble if we lose.”
Sinclair believes his book could help turn that lofty vision into a how-to guide for Israeli liberals. But he also has more practical concerns, like where to get another kippah. He isn’t sure the vendor who made it before will be willing to do so again. And this time, it’s not just him but many of his friends who say they are interested in getting their hands on one.
“Some bright lefty entrepreneur,” he joked, “has got a big money-making opportunity there.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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DOJ’s indictment of Southern Poverty Law Center recalls Jewish groups’ use of informants to fight extremism
(JTA) — Jewish social justice organizations are sharply criticizing the Trump administration’s decision to indict the Southern Poverty Law Center, framing the move as part of a broader campaign against civil society groups that monitor extremism.
The Department of Justice alleges that SPLC engaged in bank and wire fraud and conspired to commit money laundering, arguing that its use of paid informants to monitor extremist groups amounted to a funding mechanism for those same groups. SPLC has not yet issued a detailed public response to the charges.
For many observers, the clash also echoes an earlier and lesser-known chapter in American Jewish history — one in which Jewish organizations themselves used covert methods, including paid informants, to track and expose white supremacist movements, often with little support from the federal government.
Coincidentally, the indictment came down nearly simultaneously with the publication of “The Secret War Against Hate: American Resistance to Antisemitism and White Supremacy,” by historian Steven J. Ross. The book, which is being released next week, documents how groups such as the Anti-Defamation League and the American Jewish Committee infiltrated neo-Nazi and Ku Klux Klan organizations in the decades before and after World War II, passing intelligence to law enforcement agencies that were often reluctant to act.
The historical parallel is not exact, but it is striking: Tactics once employed by Jewish groups to counter violent extremism are now at the center of a federal prosecution against one of the country’s most prominent civil rights watchdogs.
The Union for Reform Judaism said it was “watching with concern” the Department of Justice’s action, noting SPLC’s long record of combating hate, including antisemitism.
“SPLC is a long-time ally in the civil rights space and has a record of more than five decades of combating hate, including antisemitism,” the group said in a statement. “While no one is above the law, this DOJ has pursued multiple cases over the last 14 months whose political motivations have been questioned and even rejected by juries and judges. For this reason, we are concerned that this, too, is a case motivated by politics, rather than fact.”
Leaders at the Jewish Council for Public Affairs were more forceful, casting the indictment as a direct threat to organizations that track hate groups and protect vulnerable communities.
“Civil society is under attack as the administration weaponizes the federal government against those with whom they disagree, while normalizing extremism and gutting the very programs we have to counter it — and it puts Jewish and so many other communities at risk of violence,” said CEO Amy Spitalnick.
“As today’s attack on the Southern Poverty Law Center shows, groups that protect civil rights and counter violent extremism are being criminalized by this Administration,” she added. “None of us can afford to be silent.”
The liberal Jewish advocacy group Bend the Arc similarly argued that the indictment reflects an effort to undermine democratic institutions.
“Groups like the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC) make this nation safer for American Jews and all Americans — which is why the Trump regime’s DOJ is targeting them,” the organization said. “Americans and American Jews will keep showing up to defend our democracy, from our elections to all of our liberties.”
Ross, whose parents were Holocaust survivors, describes a period in which antisemitism and white supremacist ideology were both widespread and frequently violent, with extremists targeting synagogues and Black churches and staging rallies adorned with Nazi imagery. Figures such as George Lincoln Rockwell, who founded the American Nazi Party in 1959, and Jesse Benjamin Stoner, the racist and antisemitic politician convicted in the 1958 bombing of the Bethel Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama, sought to build mass movements rooted in racial and religious exclusion.
At the same time, Jewish defense organizations quietly developed sophisticated intelligence operations, including the use of informants, to monitor those threats. Their efforts, Ross writes, were often met with indifference from officials such as J. Edgar Hoover, whose FBI frequently declined to take more than token action against extremist groups.
In his book, Ross argues that while movements and leaders evolve, the underlying ideas — including white supremacy and antisemitism — persist. Today, he notes, those ideologies are often expressed less through explicit antisemitism than through broader attacks on immigrants and demographic change.
Speaking to NPR’s Terry Gross on Thursday, Ross said he was skeptical about the indictment of the SPLC.
“I’m not sure if the indictment is true or not, but the idea that there are informants is not illegal,” he said. “These people are simply monitoring what was going on and whether accused of stealing records, their records were sent, I’m sure, to the government forces like the FBI, the Justice Department, because they weren’t doing their job.”
Ross also said that the groups he writes about in the book made it clear to informants and infiltrators that they couldn’t break any laws. “I’m sure the SPLC is doing the same thing because they know their informants would get in trouble otherwise, that they could be prosecuted by the government,” he said.
Another ADL operation came to light just a few years ago when political historian Matthew Dallek of George Washington University wrote a book detailing how the ADL’s covert operation targeting the John Birch Society helped bring down an influential far-right extremist movement in the United States in the 1960s and ’70s.
“The ADL also had undercover agents with code names, who were able to infiltrate the society’s headquarters in Belmont, Massachusetts, and various chapter officers,” Dallek told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in 2023. “They dug up financial and employment information about individual Birchers. And they not only used the material for their own newsletters and press releases, but they also fed information to the media.”
In the early 1990s, however, the West Coast branch of the ADL was accused in federal court of illegally spying on left-wing and pro-Arab groups, including the African National Congress, the American Indian Movement and the Association of Vietnam Veterans.
The ADL eventually settled a federal lawsuit, which charged, among other things, that the organization had sold information on anti-apartheid groups to the government of South Africa. The ADL consistently denied any improper or illegal actions, a position reiterated in the settlement.
Critics at the same accused the ADL of drifting from its founding mission — fighting antisemitism and promoting tolerance — to target legitimate criticism of Israel and advocacy of the Palestinian cause.
The Anti-Defamation League did not respond to a request for comment about the Department of Justice’s prosecution of the Southern Poverty Law Center.
But for Jewish groups now rallying to SPLC’s defense, the concern is not only about a single indictment but about the potential chilling effect on organizations that track and expose extremism — work they see as essential at a time of rising antisemitism.
“At a moment of rising antisemitism and broader extremism,” Spitalnick said, “the Administration should focus on how to protect our communities from these threats, not attack the very organizations and infrastructure whose work helps keep us safe in the first place.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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Inside Mamdani’s split decision on synagogue and school protests in NYC
New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani vetoed on Friday a City Council bill aimed at requiring safety plans around protests near schools, while allowing a separate measure protecting houses of worship to become law.
The split decision — his first veto since taking office more than 100 days ago — drew sharp backlash from a wide swath of Jewish organizations, reinforcing concerns about his handling of antisemitism in a city with the largest Jewish population in the United States and his alignment with the pro-Palestinian protest movement.
Here’s a step-by-step explainer of what happened, why it matters and what happens next.
What’s the difference between the two bills?
The City Council passed two companion bills last month aimed at curbing disruptive demonstrations outside synagogues and schools as part of a broader package to address rising antisemitism. One focused on houses of worship, requiring the New York City Police Department to develop a plan within 45 days for managing protests around the entrances. The proposal emerged following disruptive protests in recent months outside the Park East Synagogue in Manhattan and Young Israel of Kew Gardens Hills in Queens centered on events promoting immigration to and real estate in Israel.
The second bill focused on schools and educational institutions. It was broader in scope — including museums, libraries and teaching hospitals — and would have required more expansive planning for protests in those spaces. Progressive groups and labor unions opposed the schools bill, arguing it could impact their ability to organize and potentially limit pro-Palestinian demonstrations, particularly on campuses.
Why were there two bills?
The measures were largely similar in scope and raised comparable constitutional considerations around the rights to free exercise of religion and peaceable assembly. It was scaled back from an earlier buffer-zone proposal after objections from the mayor’s police commissioner and civil liberties groups about a one-size-fits-all rule.
The measures were split by Julie Menin, New York’s first Jewish speaker of the City Council, who was elected unanimously by the Council’s 51 members and seen by some as a counterweight to Mamdani on Jewish issues. She helped secure broader support for the synagogue-focused bill, aimed at addressing fears of intimidation for congregants entering houses of worship.
At the same time, the separation gave critics room to oppose the schools measure, which has drawn more sustained protest activity since Oct. 7, 2023 and raised sharper free speech concerns.
How did the City Council vote?
The houses of worship buffer zone bill, which was authored by Menin, passed with a 44–5 veto-proof majority in the 51-member chamber.
The schools bill, introduced by Councilmember Eric Dinowitz, passed by a narrower margin, 30-19, and could be vetoed by Mamdani.
What happened on Friday?
A day before the bills would automatically take effect, Mamdani vetoed the schools bill. At the same time, he allowed the houses of worship bill to take effect without his signature.
In a video statement, Mamdani said the distinction is legal and constitutional. He said that while he expressed reservations about the houses of worship measure, the final version of the bill was narrowed to avoid constitutional concerns and largely requires existing NYPD practices. The schools bill, he said, remained too broad and lacked a clear balance between the right to protest and other constitutional protections.
The measure could have applied to some public campuses, including City University of New York schools, depending on how policies were implemented. Private campuses — like Columbia University — would likely not be affected, since the NYPD is generally not authorized to operate on their property without coordination.
How did Jewish groups respond?
The backlash was swift and rather unified.
“This veto is a profound failure of City Hall to demonstrate to all New Yorkers that our safety is a priority,” a coalition of major Jewish organizations, including the Conference of Presidents and the Union for Reform Judaism, said in a sharp-worded statement. The New York Board of Rabbis, which has engaged with Mamdani since his election, also signed on to the statement.
Even the New York Jewish Agenda, a progressive Zionist group formed in 2020 to be a voice for liberal Jews in New York, said it was “disappointed” by Mamdani’s veto and his dismissal of a “good faith effort” to lower tensions. Mamdani attended NYJA’s Hanukkah celebration and said he associates himself with their mission of “bringing people together” on critical issues. Its most recent executive director is Phylisa Wisdom, now head of the mayor’s Office to Combat Antisemitism.
Rev. Al Sharpton, an ally of Mamdani, was also upset about the mayor’s veto of the schools bill, calling its implementation ”important” for the safety of all communities.
Mamdani’s progressive Jewish allies — Jews For Racial & Economic Justice and Bend the Arc — welcomed his veto, calling it a “victory for free speech and civil liberties in New York City.“
Why did Mamdani do it?
The move was an early signal of Mamdani’s governing style as he marks three months in office.
A strident critic of Israel who rose to power aligned with pro-Palestinian activism, Mamdani appears willing to take politically difficult positions in step with his base on the Israeli-Palestinian issue, even if it risks alienating mainstream Jewish institutions.
At the same time, he avoided a fight he was likely to lose — vetoing the synagogue bill only to have the Council override his veto — sidestepping a direct confrontation with the Jewish community, already uneasy over his responses to antisemitism and pro-Palestinian protests.
What happens next?
The City Council could attempt to override Mamdani’s veto of the schools bill, though it would need an additional four votes. Lawmakers could also revise the bill to address legal concerns and try to pass it again, but this time with a veto-proof majority.
Meanwhile, the NYPD is expected to move forward with drafting a plan for the houses-of-worship measure and present it within 45 days.
Longer term, this moment may shape Mamdani’s relationship with the Jewish community and test whether he can broaden his coalition in a city where concerns about his policies carry significant weight.
Last week, the city’s most senior Jewish elected officials — Menin, City Comptroller Mark Levine and Manhattan Borough President Brad Hoylman-Sigal urged Mamdani to do more to address the concerns of Jewish New Yorkers directly, including acknowledging the community’s deep emotional connection to Israel and reconsidering his pledge not to visit the country. Mamdani has given no indication that he plans to follow that advice.
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