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How Eastern Europe’s Jews celebrated a merry ‘nitl’ Christmas

(JTA) — Call me a softie, but I love a traditional Christmas Eve. If you don’t find me eating Chinese food and watching a movie, I might be catching Gotham Comedy Club’s “A Very Jewish Christmas!” show or comedian Joel Chasnoff’s “Christmas for the Jews.” Or I may just stay home, light a fire and listen to “Oy to the World: A Klezmer Christmas” by The Klezmonauts.

If none of that is your idea of traditional, you might want to get a copy of  Jordan Chad’s new book, “Christmas in the Yiddish Tradition.”

A multidisciplinary researcher affiliated with the University of Toronto’s Centre for Jewish Studies, Chad offers up the “untold story” of how Yiddish-speaking Jews “celebrated” Christmas  — not as the birth of the baby Jesus, heaven forbid. On what they called “Nitl-nacht,” or just plain “Nitl,” Jews cut loose with games and drink and a vacation from Torah studies in ways that ran parallel with what their Christian neighbors were up to.

And if that sounds like a provocation, Chad agrees.

“When I use the term ‘Jews celebrated Christmas,’ what’s really important to understand is that Christmas wasn’t interpreted as a Christian holiday by the Jews,” he said.

The idea of Jews enjoying Christmas Eve also runs counter to the stories Jews told after they left their Yiddish roots behind and encountered the New World. There, memories were shaped and distorted, and nitl was remembered as a night of fear and superstition. The lore holds that Jews stayed inside, locked their doors, avoided Torah study and huddled against the threat of antisemitic violence.

But Chad, 31, a translator with a background in theoretical physics (which makes him a Yiddishist physicist, which is very fun to say), suspected there was more to the story of Jews and Christmas. That hunch led him deep into Yiddish memoirs and folklore.

What he found startled him. Again and again, memoirists writing about 19th- and early 20th-century Eastern Europe wrote of their favorite “holiday”: nitl, commonly understood as a contraction of a Yiddish term meaning “not learning.”

Chad says that the version of Christmas as a season of foreboding is less remembrance than reinvention. Contemporary Yiddish accounts suggest that the holiday was more benign and even playful.

The key, he argues, is that for Jews and Christians alike, Dec. 24 was not so much a specifically Christian observance as a midwinter festival layered with supernatural anxiety, drinking, feasting and folk rituals. Easter was the central Christian holiday — and the actual season when Christians attacked Jews. By contrast, Christmas fell in the darkest season of the year and was marked with topsy-turvy behavior rife with pagan hand-me-downs, including the Christmas tree. Celebrants would suspend ordinary routines, play cards, tell ghost stories and stay awake to ward off malevolent spirits.

“Christians were doing this, and so were Jews,” Chad said. “It was common European folk culture.”

Only later, in part as a reaction to the revelry and their own encounter with the New World, did church leaders put the Christ back in Christmas, emphasizing the birth of Jesus. “In Europe, nobody was going to forget about Christianity,” Chad explained. “But in the New World, Jesus’s birth really needed to be the part of Christmas that Christians promoted.”

Once Christmas became more explicitly Christian, Jews distanced themselves. In the process, they retrofitted their own memories.

The ominous folklore about Christmas that was also part of Jewish tradition — for example, that Jesus might visit Jewish homes on Christmas eve to poison their drink with blood — was newly emphasized by Jews, turning a night of fun into a warning about assimilation. Stories about the dangers of Christmas — even when exaggerated — helped reinforce a sense of Jewish distinctiveness in a Christian-majority culture.

“Jewish immigrants weren’t going to tell their children, ‘When we were kids, we had a blast on Christmas Eve,’” Chad said. Instead, they leaned on reinterpretations that cast nitl as a defensive measure — a night too dangerous to study Torah, a holiday marked only by negation.

Chad consistently argues that Yiddish-speaking Jews were not cut off from the wider Christian culture, even if they had different religious structures, calendars and social and material status.

“I’d call it common European folk culture,” he said. “There were enormous differences between Jews and Christians — but when it came to fear of midwinter demons, the love of drinking, or the topsy-turvy atmosphere of Christmas Eve, the folklore overlaps are undeniable.”

Chad also draws a direct line between the “Yiddish” Christmas and the various ways Jews to continue to mark the Yuletide season. In many Hasidic communities, nitl is still a night when Torah study is suspended. If these Orthodox Jews aren’t playing cards or chess, they might be catching up on chores. Meanwhile, those Jewish events on Christmas Eve have become a growth industry, from singles-only “Matzo Balls” to Jewish cabarets to Christmas classics sung in Yiddish.

And then there’s Chinese food and a movie. Chad suggests that only in the late 20th century did Jews begin to reclaim Christmas as a kind of unofficial holiday of their own. By the 1980s, eating at Chinese restaurants — traditionally among the few places open — became a way to distinguish the day without crossing into Christian ritual. (As Darlene Love sang on “Saturday Night Live”: “They can finally see ‘King Kong’ without waiting in line / They can eat in Chinatown and drink their sweet-ass wine.”) What once was avoidance evolved into a playful counter-tradition, a way to be present in the surrounding culture without being absorbed by it.

If the book has a deeper message, it is that Jews have always negotiated Christmas, just in different registers. Sometimes the day has been used to draw lines; sometimes to soften them. It is all part of the ongoing Jewish effort to live distinctly within a world shaped by someone else’s holiday.

What emerges in “Christmas in the Yiddish Tradition” is not a sentimental argument for reviving a lost holiday, nor a polemic against drawing firm boundaries between Us and Them. It’s a reminder that Jewish life in Eastern Europe was far richer, weirder and more porous than memory often allows.

“I hope people understand that Jews didn’t think they were celebrating a Christian holiday,” Chad said. “They were celebrating a midwinter holiday they considered their own.”

He paused, then added with a laugh: “And they had a pretty good time doing it.”

The post How Eastern Europe’s Jews celebrated a merry ‘nitl’ Christmas appeared first on The Forward.

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Australia shooting terrifies Jews worldwide — and strengthens the case for Israel

If the shooters who targeted Jews on a beach in Australia while they were celebrating Hanukkah thought their cowardly act would turn the world against Israel, they were exactly wrong: Randomly killing people at a holiday festival in Sydney makes the case for Israel.

The world wants Jews to disown Israel over Gaza, but bad actors keep proving why Jews worldwide feel such an intense need to have a Jewish state.

Think about it. The vast majority of Jews who settled in Israel went there because they felt they had nowhere else to go. To call the modern state “the ingathering of exiles” softpedals reality and tells only half the story. The ingathering was a result of an outpouring of hate and violence.

Attacking Jews is the best way to rationalize Zionism.

Judaism’s holidays are often (humorously) summarized as, “They tried to kill us, they failed, let’s eat.” Zionism is simply, “They tried to kill us, they failed, let’s move.”

Theodor Herzl, the founder of modern Zionism, didn’t have a religious or even a tribal bone in his body. He would have been happy to stay in Vienna writing light plays and eating sacher torte. But bearing witness to the rise of antisemitism, he saw the Land of Israel as the European Jew’s best option.

The Eastern European pogroms, the Holocaust, the massacre of Jews in Iraq in 1941 — seven years before the State of Israel was founded — the attacks on Jews throughout the Middle East after Israel’s founding, the oppression of Jews in the former Soviet Union —  these were what sent Jews to Israel.

How many Australians are thinking the same way this dark morning?

There’s a lot to worry about in Israel. It is, statistically, more dangerous to be Jewish there than anywhere else in the world. But most Jews would rather take their chances on a state created to protect them, instead of one that just keeps promising it will – especially when the government turns a blind eye to antisemitic incitement and refuses to crack down on violent protests, as Australia has.

For over a year we have seen racist mobs impeding on the rights and freedoms of ordinary Australians. We have been locked out of parts of our cities because the police could not ensure our safety. Students have been told to stay away from campuses. We have been locked down in synagogues,” Alex Ryvchin, the co-CEO of the Executive Council of Australian Jewry, wrote a year ago, after the firebombing attack on a Melbourne synagogue.

Since then a childcare centre in Sydney’s east was set alight by vandals, cars were firebombed, two Australian nurses threatened to kill Jewish patients, to name a few antisemitic incidents. There were 1,654 antisemitic incidents logged in Australia from October 2024 to September 2025 —  in a country with about 117,000 Jews.

“The most dangerous thing about terrorism is the over-reaction to it,” the philosopher Yuval Noah Harari said. He was talking about the invasion of Iraq after 9/11, the crackdown on civil liberties and legitimate protest. But surely it’s equally dangerous to underreact to terrorism and terrorist rhetoric.

Israel’s destruction of Gaza following the Hamas attack of Oct. 7, 2023 led to worldwide protests, which is understandable, if not central to why tensions have escalated.

But condemning civilian casualties and calling for Palestinian self-determination — something many Jews support — too often crosses into calls for destroying Israel, demonizing Israelis and their Jews. That’s how Jews heard the phrase “globalize the intifada” — as a justification for the indiscriminate violence against civilians.

When they took issue with protesters cosplaying as Hamas and justifying the Oct. 7 massacre, that’s what they meant. And look at what happened in Bondi Beach, they weren’t wrong. Violence leads to violence, and so does support for violence.

Chabad, which hosted the Hanukkah celebration in Sydney, has always leaned toward a more open door policy with less apparent security than other Jewish institutions. But one of the reasons it has been so effective at outreach has also made it an easy target.

As a result of the Bondi shooting, Chabad will likely increase security, as will synagogues around the world. Jewish institutions will think hard about publicly advertising their events. Law enforcement and public officials will, thankfully, step up protection, at least for a while. These are all the predictable result of an attack that, given the unchecked antisemitic rhetoric and weak responses to previous antisemitic incidents, was all but inevitable.

It’s not inevitable that Australian Jews would now move to Israel, no more than it would have been for Pittsburgh’s Jewish community to uproot itself and move to Tel Aviv after the 2018 Tree of Life massacre. That didn’t happen, because ultimately the risk still doesn’t justify it.

But these shootings, and the constant drip of violent rhetoric, vandalism and confrontation raise a question: If you want to kill Jews in Israel, and you kill them outside Israel, where, exactly, are we supposed to go?

The post Australia shooting terrifies Jews worldwide — and strengthens the case for Israel appeared first on The Forward.

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These are the victims of the Bondi Beach Hanukkah celebration shooting in Sydney

(JTA) — A local rabbi, a Holocaust survivor and a 12-year-old girl are among those killed during the shooting attack Sunday on a Hanukkah celebration in Sydney, Australia.

Here’s what we know about the 11 people murdered in the attack, which took place at a popular beachside playground where more than 1,000 people had congregated to celebrate the first night of the holiday, as well as about those injured.

This story will be updated.

Eli Schlanger, rabbi and father of five

Schlanger was the Chabad emissary in charge of Chabad of Bondi, which had organized the event. He had grown up in England but moved to Sydney 18 years ago, where he was raising his five children with his wife Chaya. Their youngest was born just two months ago.

In addition to leading community events through Chabad of Bondi, Schlanger worked with Jewish prisoners in Australian prisons. “He flew all around the state, to go visit different people in jail, literally at his own expense,” Mendy Litzman, a Sydney Jew who responded as a medic to the attack, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

Last year, amid a surge in antisemitic incidents in Australia, Schlanger posted a video of himself dancing and celebrating Hanukkah, promoting lighting menorahs as “the best response to antisemitism.”

Two months before his murder, he published an open letter to Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese urging him to rescind his “act of betrayal” of the Jewish people. The letter was published on Facebook the same day, Sept. 21, that Albanese announced he would unilaterally recognize an independent Palestinian state.

Alex Kleytman, Holocaust survivor originally from Ukraine

Kleytman had come to the Bondi Beach Hanukkah celebration annually for years, his wife Larisa told The Australian. She said he was protecting her when he was shot. The couple, married for six decades, has two children and 11 grandchildren.

The Australia reported that Kleytman was a Holocaust survivor who had passed World War II living with his family in Siberia.

12-year-old girl

Alex Ryvchin, co-CEO of the Executive Council of Australian Jewry, told CNN that a friend “lost his 12-year-old daughter, who succumbed to her wounds in hospital.” The girl’s name was not immediately released.

Dozens of people were injured

  • Yossi Lazaroff, the Chabad rabbi at Texas A&M University, said his son had been shot while running the event for Chabad of Bondi. “Please say Psalms 20 & 21 for my son, Rabbi Leibel Lazaroff, יהודה לייב בן מאניא who was shot in a terrorist attack at a Chanukah event he was running for Chabad of Bondi in Sydney, Australia,” he tweeted.
  • Yaakov “Yanky” Super, 24, was on duty for Hatzalah at the event when he was shot in the back, Litzman said. “He started screaming on his radio that he needs back up, he was shot. I heard it and I responded to the scene. I was the closest backup. I was one of the first medical people on the scene,” Litzman said. He added, “We just went into action and saved a lot of lives, including one of our own.”

The post These are the victims of the Bondi Beach Hanukkah celebration shooting in Sydney appeared first on The Forward.

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The three responses to the Bondi Beach Hanukkah attack that could make Jews safer

After two gunmen opened fire at a Hanukkah celebration on Sydney’s Bondi Beach, killing at least 11 people and wounding dozens more, the world is asking urgent questions: Could this be the first of many such attacks? Who might be behind it? And how can we prevent the next tragedy?

Was Iran involved?

Iran, with its long history of using proxies and terrorism, naturally comes to mind. Israeli intelligence has publicly warned that Tehran remains highly motivated to target Israeli and Jewish interests abroad.

Reports suggest that Israeli agencies have assessed not only that Iran has the intent, but that it also possesses the capability to use its networks — through Hezbollah, Hamas, and other proxy groups — to strike outside the Middle East. Western governments, including Australia, the U.S., and members of the EU, have acknowledged Iranian intelligence activity on their soil.

The motivation is clear: Israel’s military strike damaged Iranian infrastructure and positions in June, followed shortly by U.S. attacks that compounded the damage and were widely celebrated in Israel and by Jewish communities. To Iran’s benighted regime, they were provocations that demanded a response. Certainly some of the investigation into the Bondi Beach attack will look in that direction.

But focusing solely on Iran risks missing a more immediate and pervasive danger: Violence against Jews does not require orchestration by a foreign state. The conditions that make it possible — and increasingly thinkable — are already everywhere.

Terrorism against Jews has gone global

Terrorism is tragically easy to carry out. Only two months ago, two Jews were killed by a Muslim attacker on Yom Kippur who rammed a car into a crowd outside a synagogue in England and attacked people with knives.

And while the UK and Australia severely restrict access to weapons, nowhere in the developed world is mad violence easier to orchestrate than in the United States. Firearms are cheap, accessible, and legal for virtually anyone, and the sheer size of the country makes monitoring and security far more difficult than in smaller, more centralized nations. Lone actors can wreak destruction on a scale that would be unthinkable elsewhere. If one wanted to locate the most vulnerable place for ideologically motivated attacks, the United States sits uncomfortably near the top.

Motivation for such violence has been growing steadily. Antisemitic attacks have increased across the Western world, and the way the Gaza war unfolded has only accelerated the trend. The narrative of “genocide” has become increasingly entrenched, making it harder for Jews to occupy the once-unquestioned moral space: I still defend Israel and should not be attacked for it. That space is collapsing.

“The idea that Jews collectively bear responsibility for Israel’s actions is seeping into public consciousness in ways that make massacres like Bondi Beach more thinkable, if not inevitable.”

Dan Perry

Polls now show that roughly half of Americans believe Israel is committing genocide in Gaza. Substantial minorities go further, rationalizing recent attacks against Jews as “understandable” or even “justified.” These numbers do not indicate majority support for violence, but they are significant enough to suggest that moral restraints are weakening.

This shift is particularly pronounced among younger generations, where hostility toward Israel has become a moral baseline. It does not automatically translate into action, but it lowers the social cost of excusing violence. The idea that Jews collectively bear responsibility for Israel’s actions is seeping into public consciousness in ways that make massacres like Bondi Beach more thinkable, if not inevitable.

The situation is compounded by Israel’s current government. Its policies and rhetoric have alienated large swathes of the global community, including non-orthodox Jews in the United States. The government’s posture — contemptuous, dismissive, and occasionally openly sneering — makes the work of diplomats, community leaders, and advocates far more difficult. Israel’s failure to convey a nuanced understanding abroad of the delicacy of its own situation, nor give any inkling of introspection about its conduct in Gaza, feeds perceptions of illegitimacy and exacerbates antisemitism.

So, what can be done?

The 3 ways to make Jewish communities safer

First, Jewish communities must assume that maximal security at every event, and certainly on holidays and around landmarks, is essential not optional. Every public event, school, and institution should be protected at the highest feasible level. Prudence demands it. Governments that claim to protect minorities must fund and sustain this protection, not treat it as an emergency add-on after tragedy strikes.

Second, political leadership matters. World leaders must speak clearly and forcefully against antisemitic violence. Silence or hedging is read as permission. Muslim leaders, in particular, should speak plainly: Condemning attacks on Jews is not an endorsement of Israel, nor a betrayal of Palestinian suffering — it is an assertion of basic moral boundaries. President Donald Trump, despite his many failings, has a unique capacity to apply pressure. If he insisted publicly that major figures in the Muslim world denounce antisemitic violence, he could secure statements and commitments that might otherwise be unattainable. That could save lives.

Finally, Israel itself must confront its role. The current government has become a strategic liability — not just for Israel’s security, but for Jews worldwide. Its policies, tone, and posture have helped create the conditions in which antisemitism flourishes abroad. This in no way justifies attacks on Jews, but we must live in the real world that can be cruel, indifferent, superficial and unfair.

A government that understands the global stakes, communicates openness to the world, respects the diversity of the Jewish diaspora, and approaches foreign and domestic policy with nuance and restraint would do enormous good. It would not eliminate the threat overnight, but it would drastically reduce the conditions that allow such hatred to grow. Replacing the current government with one capable of such diplomacy and moral awareness could, in a sense, be the most effective preventive measure of all.

The Bondi Beach massacre is a devastating warning. It is a tragedy that could have happened anywhere and serves as a grim reminder that antisemitic violence is an urgent threat to Jews everywhere.

The post The three responses to the Bondi Beach Hanukkah attack that could make Jews safer appeared first on The Forward.

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