Features
Shindico celebrating 50th anniversary this year – the Sandy Shindleman story
By BERNIE BELLAN Anyone who has ever driven through Winnipeg is bound to have noted the very many buildings – including strip malls, shopping centres, office buildings, and apartment buildings, that bear the name “Shindico”.
This year marks the 50th anniversary of the founding of Shindico. While its name may be familiar to most Winnipeggers, there’s not a lot that’s been written about how Shindico came to be.
Recently I had the chance to speak with Shindico founder Sandy Shindleman who, now 68, started Shindico when he was only 18.
Anyone who knows Sandy is familiar with his wry wit – and often self-deprecating style. In many ways his story is similar to the stories of many other self-made entrepreneurs within Winnipeg’s Jewish community.

Born in a small town – in this case Portage la Prairie, Sandy was one of three brothers, (the others being Robert and Daniel). The brothers’ parents, Eddie and Claire (née Abells), are both deceased, Eddie having died in 1998, while Claire died in 2019. Eddie’s brother Jack, who worked with Eddie in the grocery store that Eddie owned in Portage (known as Greenberg’s Grocery), passed away in 2020.
Eddie Shindleman’s own father came to Canada in 1912 – from Ukraine (which was then part of Russia, Sandy reminded me.) Claire’s parents were from Belarus. Like many other Jewish immigrants, Sandy’s grandfather went into the cattle business – which Eddie Shindleman remained very much involved in, operating an abattoir (slaughterhouse) in Portage for many years.

Sandy recalls his years growing up in Portage with fondness. There were about “25-35 Jewish families in Portage,” he recalls, many of whom had arrived there after World War II.
The grocery store that his father ran was actually purchased from Eddie Shindleman’s brother-in-law in 1967. Prior to that Eddie had managed the store. As well, Claire and her brother owned a motel in Portage, the “Westgate Inn,” which remained owned by the Shindleman family until this month.
I asked Sandy about the spelling of the name “Shindleman.”
Shouldn’t it be spelled “Shindelman,” I wondered?
His father misspelled it, Sandy said. It should have been “Shindelman,” not “Shindleman.” I asked whether “shindel” meant something in Yiddish. He answered that the family thought it meant “roofer,” but when I checked, the word “shindle” actually means scissors in Yiddish.
While Sandy did work some in the family grocery store, he also had occasion to help his father with the abattoir – which leads to a great story I’d first heard Sandy tell back in 2018, when I had invited him to speak to a group that I had helped start at the Rady JCC (along with Tamar Barr), known as the Jewish Business Network.
The story of the bull and “old man Schweitzer”
When I spoke to Sandy again recently, I invited him to repeat that story because it was both funny – and insightful.
The story goes like this: “I was 14 years old. The store was open till nine o’clock on Friday.” One Friday, on a June evening, after the store had closed Sandy’s father asked Sandy to go out to a farm owned by someone Sandy knew only as “old man Schweitzer.” (He never did find out Schweitzer’s first name, he told me.)
Schweitzer lived on an 80 acreage farm, Sandy continued, but he didn’t grow anything. He didn’t even have any cattle or chickens. All that he had was a bull and he wanted to sell his bull to Eddie Shindleman.
But old man Schweitzer didn’t drive. He didn’t own a truck. All that he owned was a tractor, Sandy said.
“He drove into town and he shopped at my dad’s store on a tractor because you didn’t need a driver’s license to drive a tractor. And as far as I know, you still don’t. But the tractor was open – like it didn’t have a closed cap.”
Now, at the time, Sandy was only 14 years old. Here he was, being asked to drive out to a farm – and pick up a bull. He said that he already knew how to drive a truck (even though he wasn’t legally supposed to be able to do that), so he went to Schweitzer’s farm in a five-ton truck, along with a hired hand who worked in the abattoir.
Eddie had given Sandy a blank cheque to take with him. Eddie had told Sandy to offer Schweitzer a fair price for the bull and not to try and take advantage of him. Sandy said he looked the bull up and down and offered Schweitzer $420 – which Schweitzer accepted.
So, Sandy and the hired hand loaded the bull on to the truck – which was quite a job, since it turned out the bull weighed 1400 pounds.
It was past dark when Sandy got back to Portage. “I drove by the store. My dad came out and climbed up on the truck and looked at the bull. And he said, ‘How much did you pay for it?’ I said ‘$420.’
“And he didn’t say good job, bad job, nothing.”
Now, Sandy had thought that his father wanted the bull for slaughter, since it was June and Eddie was going to need a lot of ground beef tor the upcoming Portage fair. But when Eddie took a look at the size of the bull, he realized it was too big for him to slaughter. “It would have broken the hoist,” Sandy explained.
Instead, Eddie decided to ship the bull to Burns Meats in Winnipeg.
“We had a special relationship with Burns Meats,” Sandy explained. “We provided a lot of their kill on a weekly basis. And so they treated us well. And we always sold things dressed weight. So it didn’t matter if the thing was full of water, it was dressed weight on the rail.”
Another week went by, and Burns Meats had sent a cheque for the bull. It was for $1,000.
Eddie didn’t say anything immediately when he saw how much the cheque was for.
Sandy said though, that later that day, when “there’s a lull in the store at six o’clock – when everyone’s eating dinner…my dad said, ‘What did you think of the bull sale?’ I said, ‘Well, I think I should quit school. I’ll buy a bull or two a week. And I’ll make more than you’re making standing here in the store.’
“ ‘Yeah.’ he said, ‘Could you have bought it for $350?’ I said, ‘Should I have?’
“He said, ‘no.’ He said, ‘What if old man Schweitzer didn’t take your offer and shipped the bull himself?'”
Eddie did some figuring how much it would have cost Schweitzer to ship the bull and came to the conclusion that Schweitzer would have “got about $780, not $420.”
So he told Sandy to go back to Schweitzer’s and write him another cheque for $400.
Sandy said that when he went back to Schweitzer’s, “I didn’t know that old man Schweitzer had hair because I’d never seen him without” the white hard hat he always wore.
But, he said to Schweitzer: ” ‘Mr. Schweitzer, I made a mistake on the bull. I misjudged the weight. And I have a check here for you.’ And I slid the check across his round table.”
Schweitzer though, said that instead of accepting the cheque he wanted to sign it right back over – and use the money instead as credit for groceries in Sandy’s father’s store.
But when Sandy returned to the store with cheque in hand, as he described it: “My dad is in the corner at the store, leaning over looking out the door, and I see he’s tearing up the check that I gave him. And I said, ‘Why are you doing that? He said, ‘Well, let Trudeau pay for half his groceries.’ “
The moral of the story though – and one that Sandy says has stuck with him throughout his business career, was “I realized that we were succeeding. These were customers. We succeeded by helping others succeed.”
Sandy ventures into real estate at age 18
How Sandy Shindleman came to be involved in real estate is another good story. As he tells it, there was a certain real estate salesman in Portage by the name of Danny Maxwell. According to Sandy, Maxwell told him he had to work only a couple of hours a week in order to make what was a pretty good living, so the idea of venturing into becoming a real estate salesperson had great appeal for someone who was still a teenager.
As he says, “it seemed like an easier way to make a living than what we were doing – standing in the store, carrying bags of flour, sacks of potatoes and cutting meats, et cetera – and kind of being stuck in one place. So, it seemed to me that that was something that should be explored.”
Sandy wrote the real estate licensing exam while he was still in high school. The exam was proctored by the Yellowquill junior high school principal (which was, by the way, not the junior high school Sandy attended).
With real estate license in hand, Sandy decided to make the big move to Winnipeg – on his own.
His first sale, he says, came courtesy of Zivey Chudnow, who owned a building in the Inkster Industrial Park (at 11 Plymouth; it’s now an Amazon warehouse) that he wanted to sell.
Sandy explains that he got to know Zivey when Sandy was only five years old and “used to shag golf balls for him” in Clear Lake.
But, that first successful foray into the real estate business did not lead to a whole series of other successes. As Sandy notes, “after that, I couldn’t make another sale because who’s going to buy anything from an 18-year-old farmer who doesn’t know anything about real estate? In commercial real estate, your buyer knows more than you and the seller knows more than you, but to sell a house, you know, what do I know about a house? I lived in a house. That was about the extent of it.”
So, he thought he might have better luck trying to sell farms. After all, he grew up in Portage and knew a lot about farms. That, too, didn’t pan out: “I wasn’t that successful selling farms. I put an ad in the paper to attract buyers and I tried to sell farms,” but without any success.
Instead, he decided to try his luck at buying some properties himself. “I bought some commercial buildings in Winnipeg and Portage – old buildings, you know, two suites upstairs that shared a bathroom and, you know, old grocery stores that were junk. One of them is still standing, 618 Saskatchewan Avenue West. The other ones aren’t. They fell down, I imagine.”
Things started to change for the better though when Sandy (who, by this time was joined by his older brother Robert) saw an empty Co-op store at 1068 Henderson Highway. Next to it, he says, were “a library, car wash, a Dairy Queen, and a gas bar.” The Co-op owned everything, and Sandy decided to make an offer to purchase what is now known as Rossmere Plaza from the Co-op, which was accepted.
Shindico begins a long and successful relationship with the Akman family
The purchase was completed with the Akman family, and the project was managed and run by Shindico (Sandy says the development was originally built by the Simkin family in the 1960s.) For Sandy, making that first major acquisition proved to be the beginning of a long relationship with the Akman family – something that eventually ended with Shindico acquiring Akman Management in 2023 from Danny Akman.
It was not long after that Sandy saw another opportunity when an empty Loblaws store on Pembina Highway was also for sale. As he says, it was around 1982, and the market for retail was “dead… There were a lot of experienced people that did office leasing, industrial, land, and apartments But retail – there was no glamour in that, so it wasn’t crowded.”
I asked how he financed those early acquisitions? Sandy explained that there were a lot of trust companies at the time – almost all of which have disappeared, but they were willing to lend him money. His approach, he noted – and it’s been his approach throughout his business career, he said, is to “work backwards. I find out how much rent something could produce. And then how much would I have to spend to get that rent?
“Do I have to build a building? Do I have to renovate the building and buy the building? And would the rent allow me to borrow most of the money? Then I would know how much I could pay for it.”
In addition to the trust companies, there were a lot of other “small lending institutions” around that time, he said. Lending “was a competitive business” and Shindico was forging a reputation as a prudent manager with a sophisticated leasing platform, attractive to market tenants. Sandy noted, for instance, that in the early years a lot of the properties Shindico developed were formerly gas stations because gas stations were “closing at that time. The lots were too small for the kinds of uses that they (service stations) have now.”
Sandy also pointed out that a lot of the over 180 properties that Shindico has owned in Canada and the United States over the years, have had the same tenants, such as Domino’s Pizza and Macs Milk Stores. Shindico still owns and operates over 160 properties in Canada and the United States, he added.
But, as Shindico grew, it began to branch into other areas of real estate beyond strip malls. Later on in its growth, Shindico also began Big Box development with companies, such as Walmart, Best Buy, Costco, Real Canadian Superstore, Ashley Furniture, Sobeys, and Safeway. Shindico has also been active in the Tenant Representation business, finding suitable spaces for business like Sobeys, Starbucks, Boston Pizza, Popeyes Chicken and several more. Examples include Grant Park Festival and Grant Park Pavilions (on Taylor Avenue), which are continually expanding. Shindico’s most recent success has been to bring Costco to its Westport development in Winnipeg. This is a much needed fourth store in Winnipeg and will serve all of Western Manitoba, and bring an exciting mixed use development to the area.
A key milestone for Shindico was diversifying into the acquisition and management of apartment buildings in 1984 when it purchased: Number One Evergreen Place – where Sandy and his wife Diane lived for a time.

More recently Shindico has developed purpose built apartment buildings, starting with the Taylor Claire on Taylor Avenue (named for the Shindleman brothers’ mother), followed soon thereafter by the Taylor Lee (named after their good friend and contractor, Robbie Lee) just down the street. Sandy says there will be more apartment buildings on Taylor Avenue in the future.
I asked him why Shindico waited so long before it began moving into the building of apartment buildings? He answered that “I didn’t have the money. You need a lot of money. You know, you’re not pre-leasing them. I can’t get you to sign a lease for three years from now.”
Always cautious in his ventures, Sandy said that for years he also had wanted to get into the personal storage business. “I wanted to be in personal storage probably for 25 years,” he said, “but I couldn’t figure out how to get the equity to build one because again, you don’t sign a lease three years in advance for your personal storage. You can’t pre-lease it. You have to learn that business and learn the market before you could” get into it. But Shindico now owns two personal storage locations – one in Transcona and one on Waverley.
Shindico’s many generous contributions to Winnipeg…and Portage
If I had wanted to write a story detailing all the many facets of Shindico’s business, however, this already very long story could have gone on for many more pages – and even though I suppose anyone reading it might seem like it’s really just a promotional piece for Shindico, I would argue that Shindico is one of Winnipeg’s truly great success stories that doesn’t seem to get very much recognition in the media.
Shindico and the Shindleman family are proud supporters of the communities in which they live, work, and play. Through generous donations to the Health Sciences Centre Foundation and investment in the Shindleman Aquatic Centre in Portage la Prairie, the Willow Tunnel at Assiniboine Park & Zoo, The Canadian Museum for Human Rights and Edward Shindleman Park in Winnipeg, they continue to support important initiatives that are close to their hearts and provide access to great spaces for all to enjoy.
Shindico has produced a very slick four-minute video, which can be viewed on YouTube and the Shindico website, that highlights the tremendous growth that the company has undergone in its 50 years of existence, but my interest in writing stories that have a business component is to try and shy away from analyzing financial aspects that might make one business more successful than another. Instead, I’ve always been more interested in individuals’ personal stories – and what made them tick.
Sandy’s trip to Russia in 1991 – when Russia was in total upheaval
Since Sandy Shindleman is such a great story teller (which I first learned when I heard him at that Jewish Business Network meeting eight years ago), when I spoke to him for this story I asked him to repeat a story he had told about a trip he took to Russia back in 1991.
Sandy has often been called upon to give lectures about commercial real estate in a great many different cities, but it was that trip to Russia which might be the most memorable of any of his many trips.
Readers might recall that 1991 was one of the most turbulent years in Russian history. Mikhael Gorbachev, who was Soviet President and General Secretary of the Communist Party at the time, had announced that there were was to be a free election in what was then still the Soviet Union, but chaos was descending upon Russia as old-line Communists were reluctant to cede power and the pro-democracy forces, led by Boris Yeltsin, were anxious to democratize the country.
Sandy had been invited to give a lecture on commercial real estate by someone from within what was by then known as the Russian Federation (although he says he’s not really clear where the invitation came from). He recalls taking a flight from Montreal to Paris, then on to Moscow, where he was joined by two other guys who were also supposed to be giving lectures on real estate.
But, as Sandy describes it, “I landed and the other two men were there. And I didn’t realize that they were both former CIA guys, because they spoke Russian.”
All hell was breaking loose in Moscow at the time, but Sandy says he was totally oblivious to what was happening. “I didn’t know what was going on. There’s no television, there’s no Tom Brokaw explaining to us what’s going on. Bernie Bellan isn’t writing about it. There’s just a bunch of people running around, and we really didn’t know what we were looking at.”
I asked him whether he ended up giving a lecture? Sandy says he did, but “we were supposed to have simultaneous translation, which we didn’t. We had a guy – Vladimir, who was supposed to help,” but Sandy says he doesn’t really know what Vladimir’s role was.
Shindico moves into the construction business
Getting back to the current moment though, given Shindico’s tremendous growth, I wondered what might lie ahead for Sandy Shindleman. He says that the management of the company is in excellent hands, with Alex Akman now Chief Operating Officer, Leanne Fontaine, Chief Financial Officer, and Justin Zarnowski, In-House Legal Counsel.
That brought me back to asking about Shindico’s acquisition of Akman Management in 2023. According to a press release issued at the time, Akman Management portfolio consisted of “1,200,000 square feet of property across 1,000 multifamily units and 18 commercial assets.” The integration of Akman Management resulted in “a 42% increase in staff at the Shindico Group of companies”, and Sandy says “it was great to acquire a like-minded family style company made up of folks that you would want to have lunch with”.
The year 2023 was also an exciting one for Shindico in that it marked the founding of SNR Construction Ltd, a general contracting division in the Shindico Group of Companies. SNR recently completed an 84,000 square foot warehouse for Shindico in the St. Boniface Industrial Park, and is working on a wide array of multi family and retail projects across the Shindico portfolio.
Considering how successful Shindico has been, I wondered whether Sandy ever thought of taking Shindico public and allowing investors to buy stock in it?
Sandy says he’s not interested in going public, saying “we’re a family office, family business – Alex, Justin and Leanne and others. We’ve got a, a kind of a management group of at least a dozen… We’re just a small company…we can have the leverage of running real estate.”
By the way, Sandy’s brother Robert, Executive Vice President of the Shindico Group of Companies, is an important part of the organization, overseeing property development, operations, and management. Sandy’s wife, Diane, is also very involved in the businessm- as Executive Vice President, Finance. Their daughter, Annie, a graduate of Gray Academy, is currently enrolled in the Asper School of Business. “Perhaps, one day, my daughter might join us,” Sandy said, but in the meantime, as he says in the 50th anniversary Shindico video on YouTube, his goal for Shindico “for the next 50 years is supporting and leading all our professional management to grow.”
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.
