Features
Amid pandemic, these young Jews and their elderly friends are finding new ways to connect
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By RENEE GHERT-ZAND When the COVID-19 pandemic began, 15-year-old Samantha Renzulli immediately thought about how it would affect her elderly friends at Jewish Senior Services, a long-term care facility in Bridgeport, Connecticut.
Renzulli had met some of the residents through Better Together, a school-based Jewish intergenerational program, and she worried about their isolation.
“I was aware of the loneliness the residents must have been experiencing, as they were unable to have visitors or leave their rooms,” Renzulli said. “As I thought back to all the fun times I shared with the residents, it saddened me to think of their lack of companionship during this time.”
So she and her fellow students at the Merkaz Community High School for Judaic Studies resolved to find new ways to maintain connections to the seniors. Since mid-April, students’ families have paraded in long caravans of decorated cars around the residence every Friday as residents and staff look on from balconies. They’ve also delivered more than 130 bouquets of donated flowers for residents, and a trove of books, toys and toiletries for staff members and their families.
On Mother’s Day, Renzulli and her young friends shared with the seniors a “musical mitzvah mashup” video they created especially for them.
In normal times, Better Together, a project launched in 2014, pairs together young Jews and older Jews for meaningful in-person interactions. Middle- and high-school students from Jewish day schools, Hebrew schools and Jewish youth groups meet with the residents of senior centers or groups of seniors from local synagogues.
Faced with the pandemic, students have found innovative ways to continue connecting with their elder “buddies” despite social distancing protocols. Rather than reducing operations because in-person encounters are not possible, Better Together ended up expanding its scope of activities to meet surging interest, introducing a modified version of its program that can be replicated in communities across the country.
Called Better Together in a Box, it’s a free, downloadable curriculum designed for the upcoming summer of social distancing, when camp, internships and many other Jewish summer activities will be cancelled. Jewish organizations that commit to implementing the program are eligible for a grant to cover staffing and materials.
Better Together in a Box includes materials for teen learning sessions on Jewish values such as leadership, responsibility, empathy, wisdom and wellness. It suggests virtual intergenerational activities, including cooking, fitness and art, with detailed plans on how to implement them – synchronously or not – based on the technological ability and the teens’ and seniors’ hardware. Activities include letter writing, Mad Libs, teens creating short videos to engage with the seniors, and discussions on health and community.
“What we mean by ‘in-a-box’ is that it is a ready-to-use curriculum, and that it is designed for doing things virtually, or at least not in person,” said Bess Adler, Better Together’s program director.
The program’s pandemic-era pivot is a sign of how some Jewish initiatives are adapting and innovating to meet the needs of the times.
Organizers are hoping camps, youth groups, congregational schools and Jewish day schools will utilize the curriculum for youths ranging in age from middle school to high school. An optional writing contest offers students prizes and the possibility of getting an article published based on their summer experiences.
Yolande Dauber, 101, is eager to continue participating in Better Together this summer. A resident of The Medallion, an assisted living residence in Houston, she has enjoyed her conversations with her young buddy from the Robert M. Beren Academy, a modern Orthodox day school in Houston.
“It’s nice to mingle with young people,” said Dauber, who once worked as a middle school guidance counsellor in her hometown of Brooklyn. “They have interesting ideas, and I enjoy hearing about their plans for the future.”
Dauber misses hugging and kissing the students as they arrive at The Medallion but understands that she can’t meet them in person for the foreseeable future. Adept at using her computer and Kindle, she is confident she’ll be able to participate in online activities organized by Beren Academy students this summer.
Since the beginning of the pandemic, students from the school have been calling their senior buddies to wish them Shabbat Shalom, and created videos for them.
“Some of the residents even made selfie videos and sent them back to us in return,” said 17-year-old Natanya Ruben, who will participate in Better in a Box this summer following cancelled plans for a family trip to South Africa.
Not all seniors are able to use technology. Rabbi Ari Kellerman, the Judaic studies principal at Beren Academy’s middle and high schools, has been trying to come up with other activities. A consultant to Better Together in a Box, he devised the idea of a Buddy Box, where teens can send their elderly partners fun items such as craft project materials along with video cards with filmed clips of themselves offering greetings and project instructions.
Until now, students have produced elaborate works based on their yearlong interactions with their senior buddies, such as photography exhibitions, documentary films, large quilts, and travel scrapbooks reflecting global destinations that have played important roles in the seniors’ lives.
Now, the focus is a bit different.
“COVID poses such a big challenge,” Kellerman said. “We need to shift from thinking so much about fun activities to making sure our seniors are okay.”
Devra Aarons, director of the Contra Costa Midrasha, a community-based weekly Jewish educational program for 8th through 12th graders in Walnut Creek, California, said the emphasis now must be on maintaining relationships and cultivating empathy. Her students are partnered with residents of The Reutlinger, in nearby Danville.
“I find that the teens are very good with coming up with ideas for using videos and other tech,” Aarons said. “Maybe we’ll just focus on teaching the seniors how to use the technology at first. That could be a good way to stay connected.”
In Connecticut, Renzulli has taken the lead in designing intergenerational activities. With her planned five-week summer language-immersion program in Spain cancelled, she said one of her main priorities this summer will be focusing on “bringing love and joy” to residents of Jewish Senior Services, and “showing them and the nurses at their aid that our community is here to support them.”
Renzulli’s mother, Laurie Renzulli, said the project has helped boost her daughter’s spirits during this challenging time.
“The weekly meetings for planning and execution of the activities have helped tremendously during this time of home education and limited social interactions,” she said. “Each week there have been deliverables to accomplish, and when each weekly mitzvah hits a milestone or completion, Samantha feels she has made a positive difference in our community and the world.”
This story was sponsored by and produced in collaboration with a foundation that wishes to remain anonymous, and is part of a series titled “On the Bright Side: Stories of innovation and resilience from Jewish non-profits.” This article was produced by JTA’s native content team.
Features
The Torah on a Lost Dog: Hashavat Aveidah in a Modern Canadian City
A neighbour’s dog wanders into your yard on a Wednesday morning in May, dragging a leash and looking confused. You have a choice. You can close the door and assume someone else will deal with it, call the city, or take a photo, knock on a few doors, and try to find out where he belongs.
For most people in Winnipeg and elsewhere in Canada, that choice plays out in a flash of moral instinct rather than reflection. The hand reaches for the phone and the walk around the block begins. The neighbour, if it goes well, is at the door before lunch. The decision feels minor, but it matters more than it looks.
In Jewish tradition, the act of returning a lost animal sits at the centre of one of the oldest practical commandments in the Torah. Deuteronomy 22, near the end of Parashat Ki Teitzei, contains a passage that has become the foundation for an entire body of Jewish ethical law: “If you see your fellow’s ox or sheep going astray, you shall not hide yourself from them; you shall surely bring them back.” The verse goes on to extend this duty beyond animals to any lost property. “So shall you do with every lost thing of your brother’s which he has lost and you have found.” Then comes the line that has occupied rabbis for two thousand years: “You may not hide yourself.”
The Hebrew name for this mitzvah is hashavat aveidah, the returning of a lost thing. It is one of the more practical commandments in a tradition full of practical commandments, and the rabbinic literature surrounding it is unusually thick.
A small commandment with big implications
The reason hashavat aveidah occupies so much rabbinic attention is that, on closer reading, it sets a high ethical bar. The Talmud, particularly the second chapter of tractate Bava Metzia known as Eilu Metziot, devotes pages to questions a modern reader would immediately recognize. How long must you wait for the owner to claim the item? How hard do you have to look for them? What if the animal needs feeding while you search? What expenses can you recover, and what counts as fair? What if the item is too inconvenient to safely return?
The rabbis answer all of these. The answers are not always intuitive. The finder is obligated to feed and shelter the animal while looking for the owner. The animal must not be put to work for the finder’s profit. The owner, when found, repays reasonable costs but is not on the hook for unreasonable ones. If the search takes too long, there are procedures for what to do next, none of which involve quietly keeping what is not yours.
Underneath the legal detail is a moral assumption that is easy to miss in a hurried reading. The Torah does not say to return the animal if it is convenient. It explicitly forbids the act of hiding yourself, of pretending you did not see, of crossing to the other side of the street. The commandment is as much about the person who finds as it is about the animal that is lost.
What this looks like in 2026
Most people who encounter a stray dog in a Winnipeg neighbourhood today are not thinking about Bava Metzia. They are thinking about whether the dog is friendly, whether they should call the City, whether they have time. The instinct to help is usually present. The question is what to do with it.
The practical infrastructure for hashavat aveidah in this country has changed considerably in the last decade. A finder in Winnipeg in 2026 has access to a regional humane society, a network of local Facebook groups, neighbourhood newsletters, and a handful of national platforms that gather sightings and missing-pet alerts across more than 180 Canadian cities. The mechanism is straightforward. A clear photo and a location pin can reach the right owner within hours when the system works, which it usually does.
The most underused of these resources, in any community, is the simple act of posting a sighting. Many people who find a stray feel they need to first catch the animal, find it food, take it home, or in some way solve the problem in full. The rabbis would actually disagree with that framing, and so does modern pet-recovery practice. The first responsibility is to make the sighting visible. The owner is almost certainly already looking. The finder’s main job is to surface what they have seen.
For people in Winnipeg looking for a place to start, a practical guide for what to do when you find a stray walks through the basic steps. Take a clear photo, note the cross-streets and time, check for a tag, and post the sighting where local owners will see it. The work is small. The effect, on the owner who has been awake for two nights and then sees a photo of their dog with a phone number underneath, is much larger than the work itself.
The ethical centre of the commandment
There is a strain of Jewish thought that reads hashavat aveidah as a kind of training in noticing. The deeper commandment goes beyond returning what is lost. It asks the finder to be the kind of person who sees what is lost in the first place, who does not cross to the other side of the street, who does not pretend not to have noticed.
That reading lines up with another Jewish ethical concept that often gets paired with this one: tza’ar ba’alei chayim, the obligation to prevent unnecessary suffering to animals. The Talmud derives this principle from several places in the Torah, including the rest commanded for animals on Shabbat. The two principles overlap in the case of a lost pet. The animal is suffering. The owner is suffering. The finder is, briefly, the only person in the position to do anything about it.
In a small way, the entire Canadian volunteer ecosystem around lost pets, from neighbourhood Facebook groups to national platforms to the dog walker who recognizes a posted photo, is an example of this ethical structure in action. People do not necessarily think of it in those terms. The framework is there anyway, doing its quiet work.
A community-scale point
Winnipeg’s Jewish community has always understood itself as a network of responsibilities to others, the kind that get described as chesed when they are visible and assumed when they are not. The work of returning a lost animal sits comfortably in that frame. It is not heroic, does not make the bulletin, and is exactly the kind of small obligation that knits a community together when nobody is paying attention.
The dog in the yard on a Wednesday morning in May, leash trailing, is one version of the question Deuteronomy asks. The answer, then and now, is the same. Do not hide yourself.
Features
Basketball: How has Israel become one of the best basketball countries in Europe in the last few years?
When Israeli Deni Avdija became the first Israeli to be drafted as the highest Israeli draftee in NBA history in 2020 – then emerged as a key NBA wing in Portland, it was not so much the breakthrough it appeared to be, but a portent of things to come. Israeli basketball development has been decades in the making, and in recent years its clubs have made Europe take notice.
This is why Maccabi Tel Aviv, Hapoel Tel Aviv, and the national basketball team of Israel are now the subjects of serious discussion in European basketball. It is only natural that fans and bettors reading form, depth of the roster, and momentum would look at our Euroleague predictions and then evaluate how Israeli teams would fit into the continental picture.
A rich history: The Maccabi Tel Aviv mythos
The contemporary narrative dates back to before Avdija. Maccabi Tel Aviv won its maiden European Cup in 1977, beating Mobilgirgi Varese and providing a nation under pressure with a sporting icon. Tal Brody’s declaration: “We are on the map” became not just a quote, it became a declaration of Jewish confidence, Israeli strength and a basketball dream.
Maccabi turned out to be the team of the nation since it bore Israeli identity past the borders. Maccabi has been a cultural ambassador before globalization transformed elite lists into multinational conundrums. Its yellow jerseys were the symbol of excellence, rebellion, and identification for the Israeli people at home and Jewish communities abroad.
The six European championships for the club provided a benchmark that has influenced the Winner League and Israeli basketball. Children were not just spectators of Maccabi, they dreamed of Europe as something accessible. Coaches studied in the continental competition. Sponsors and broadcasters realized that basketball had the potential to be the most exportable Israel team sport.
The modern pillars of Israeli basketball’s success
The recent ascendancy of Israel is no magic. It is the result of history, astute recruiting, youth-building and pressure-tested league culture. The nation has made its size its strength: clubs find talent at a young age and enhance the potential with foreign professionals.
Nurturing homegrown talent: The Deni Avdija effect
The most obvious example is that of Avdija. He was a high-ranking contributor in the system of Maccabi Tel Aviv, was chosen as a teenager, and was picked number 9 by Washington in the 2020 NBA Draft. His career was a reminder that an Israeli prospect could be more than a local star; he could be a lottery pick with two-way NBA potential.
Israeli NBA player Omri Casspi had already opened that door, and Avdija opened it even further for the next generation. Their achievements captivated the expectations of youthful players in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Holon, Herzliya, etc. An Israeli teenager is now able to envision a path from youth leagues to the Winner League, the EuroLeague, and ultimately – NBA minutes.
It is that dream that has been followed by investment. Israeli clubs put more emphasis on skills training, strength training, and analytics, as well as international youth tournaments. The success of the national program in the face of the best of Europe has also helped.
A global approach: The role of international and naturalized stars
The other pillar of the Israeli basketball program is the openness of Israel to global talent. The Winner League has been an important destination, not a stopover, for American guards and forwards. Most come in with NCAA or G league experience and become leaders due to the fact that the league requires scoring, speed and tactical flexibility.
It is enriched with naturalized players and Jewish players, who are able to use the Law of Return to come to Israel to play. Inspired by legendary players like Tal Brody, current imports who can bond both professionally and personally with Israelis have provided teams with uncharacteristic diversity in their rosters. The outcome has been a mixture of Israeli competitiveness, American shot making, Balkan toughness, and European spacing.
Making waves in Europe: Israel’s modern Euroleague footprint
Even in challenging seasons, Maccabi Tel Aviv has remained the flagship team. Currently, Maccabi is out of a playoff spot in the EuroLeague, but Hapoel Tel Aviv has shot up in playoff discussion. That juxtaposition speaks volumes: Israel is no longer represented by one lone, iconic club. Its profile has expanded.
Nevertheless, it is true that the reputation of Maccabi in the EuroLeague does count. Menora Mivtachim Arena in Tel Aviv is one of the most intimidating arenas for EuroLeague teams to play in: loud and emotional. Recent security and travel realities have affected the usual home-court advantage but the name of the club is still a potent brand.
It is the reason why there is an interesting betting discussion within Israeli teams. The name Maccabi still retains a historical impact, but analysts also need to quantify the present defensive performance, injuries, substitution of venues and guards, and fatigue in the schedule. The emergence of Hapoel has provided another Israeli point of reference and markets have to regard the nation as a multi-club force.
What’s next? The future of Israeli basketball on the world stage
Sustainability is the second test. The Israeli national basketball team desires more serious EuroBasket performances and a future world cup. It requires Avdija types – fit and powerful, more domestic big men, and guards capable of playing elite defense to get there.
The pipeline is an optimistic one. Israeli schools are more professional, teams are bolder with young talents, and the Winner League is a test ground where potential talents have to contend with older, tougher imports each week. Not all players will turn into an Avdija, yet additional players ought to be prepared to participate in EuroCup, EuroLeague, and even NBA games.
To the Jews in the Canadian diaspora, the impact is not only sporting, it is also emotional. Israeli basketball brings pride, drama and a common language to the continents. To the European fan, it provides tempo, creativity and unpredictability. To analysts, it provides a sign that a small nation, with memory, ambition and adaptation, can rise to become a true basketball power. Israel has ceased to be the unexpected guest on the table of Europe. It is a part of it, season after season.
Features
In recent years, we have been looking for something more than a house in Israel – we have been looking for a home
For many Jewish families in the diaspora, Israel has always been more than a destination. It is the land of tefillah, memory, family history and belonging. But in recent years, many families have begun asking a practical question too: should Israel also become a place where we have a home?
Not necessarily immediate aliyah. Sometimes it begins with a future option, something good to have just in case, or simply roots with a stronger connection to Eretz Yisroel.
But what does it mean?
A Jewish home is shaped not only by what is inside the front door, but by what surrounds it: neighbours, synagogues, schools, parks, local services, safe streets and the rhythm of Jewish life. For observant families, these are not small details. They are the things that turn a house into a place of belonging.
This is not a new idea. It is a need that has helped shape Jewish communities in Israel before. The Savyonim idea is rooted in the story of Savyon, the Israeli community established in the 1950s by South African Jews who wanted to create a green, safe and community-minded environment in Israel. It was a diaspora dream translated into life in the Jewish homeland.
That idea feels relevant again today. Many Jewish families abroad are now making plans around where they can feel connected in the years ahead.
Recent figures point in the same direction. Reports based on Israel’s Ministry of Finance data showed that foreign residents bought around 1,900 homes in Israel in 2024, about 50% more than the previous year, with Jerusalem emerging as the most popular place to buy. In January 2026, foreign residents still purchased 146 homes, broadly similar to January 2025, even as the wider housing market remained cautious.
For Lior David, International Sales & Marketing Manager at Africa Israel Residences, part of the continued interest may lie in the fact that today’s residential projects are increasingly built around the wider needs of Jewish families abroad: not only buying a property in Israel, but finding a setting that can support community, continuity and everyday Jewish life. That idea is reflected in Savyonim, the company’s residential concept, which places the surrounding environment at the heart of choosing a home.
This can be seen in Savyoney Givat Shmuel, where the surrounding environment includes synagogues, parks, educational institutions, local commerce, playgrounds and transport links, and in Savyoney Ramat Sharet in Jerusalem, located in one of the city’s established green neighbourhoods.
For families abroad, these things matter. Jerusalem and Givat Shmuel are never just another location. They are home to strong Jewish communities, established religious life and surroundings that allow a family to imagine not only buying property, but building a Jewish home in Israel.
Together, these projects reflect a broader understanding: that for many Jews in the diaspora, the decision to create a home in Israel is not only practical, but rooted in identity, continuity and community. The Savyonim story began with a Zionist community from abroad that succeeded in building a real home in Israel; today, that same vision continues in a contemporary form.