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A Holocaust survivor and her family saw ‘Leopoldstadt.’ The Broadway play told their story.
(New York Jewish Week) — On a Wednesday evening last month, three generations of a Jewish family made their way to their seats at the Longacre Theater to see “Leopoldstadt,” Tom Stoppard’s epic Broadway play about the tragedies that befall an extended Jewish family in the first half of the 20th century in Vienna.
The date of the family gathering was a significant one: Nov. 9, the 84th anniversary of the Nazi pogroms known as Kristallnacht. And in the audience was Fini Konstat, 96, who lived in the once thriving Jewish neighborhood after which the play is named, and witnessed the horrors it portrays first-hand. Alongside her were her daughter and her son-in-law, Renee and James Akers, and her oldest great-grandchild, Lexi Levin, 23.
When Konstat was a child, she lived in a “nice apartment” in Leopoldstadt. But exactly 84 years to the day of their theater date, “I was running with my father, seeing all the Jewish stores with all their windows broken,” she told Levin in a short video her great-granddaughter filmed before the curtain rose.
“It’s such a blessing for me to be here with you,” Levin said to her great-grandmother in response. “Ninety-six years old, survived a pandemic, at a Broadway show in New York City.”
Left: Fini as a child on the balcony of her apartment in Leopoldstadt. Right: Fini with her three children in front of the very same building, pictured in 2015. (Courtesy)
Since the beginning of its Broadway run in mid-September, “Leopoldstadt,” with its depiction of a prosperous Viennese family on the brink of destruction, has moved audiences to tears and inspired deep reflections on the Holocaust. Based on the celebrated playwright’s own family history — of which he was barely aware while growing up in England — it has provided a stark counterpoint to news about rising antisemitism and the celebrities who have been purveying it.
But for Konstat, the play was much more personal. “When I heard the word ‘Leopoldstadt,’ this alone gave me lots of thrills and memories,” Konstat, who is known in her family as Mimi, told the New York Jewish Week in accented English. She recalled how Levin, who recently moved to the city, invited her to fly to New York to see one of Broadway’s hottest tickets.
“Leopoldstadt,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “The second district. That’s where we lived.”
At the end of Stoppard’s five-act play, audiences learn that most of the Jewish characters had perished under the Nazis — of the four generations in the show, just three cousins survive to carry on the family’s legacy.
For Konstat too, she and her parents were among the very few in their extended family to survive the Holocaust. “Almost all of them went to Auschwitz or other camps,” Konstat said. “My mother was a twin and only the twins remained alive. [My mother’s] five other siblings and my grandmother perished.”
L-R: Renee Akers, James Akers, Lexi Levin and Fini Konstat at the Longacre Theater to see Tom Stoppard’s ‘Leopoldstadt on Broadway,’ Nov. 9, 2022. (Courtesy)
In a Zoom conversation held over Thanksgiving weekend, Konstat, surrounded by two of her daughters, two of her granddaughters and three of her great-granddaughters, shared what the play meant to her — and how her family has restored what she lost.
In the months after Kristallnacht in 1938, Konstat and her parents hid in a neighbor’s apartment; Konstat recalls hiding under the duvet when German soldiers showed up. Eventually the family fled to Turkey, and then to India, before settling down in Mexico City. There, the teenage Fini met her husband David, also a survivor who escaped Poland. The two of them began to write the rest of their story — starting with the birth of the first of their three children in 1948.
Unlike many Holocaust survivors, Fini and David Konstat were open about their experiences during the war, instilling a sense of pride and duty to remember in their children — something that eventually extended to their grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
“They were proud to speak about how they survived this,” said the Konstats’ middle child, Renee Konstat Akers. “Their life was an odyssey. They had the courage to do things that you would never think were possible. We grew up grateful knowing how our family survived in that incredible way.”
Each child moved to different places as they grew up and got married. Manuel, the oldest, stayed in Mexico. Renee married an American and moved to the Midwest, and Denise, the youngest, to Houston. Each became deeply involved in their Jewish communities, sending their children (Konstat’s grandchildren) to Jewish day schools, celebrating Jewish holidays and participating in synagogue life.
“The word ‘miracle’ really does not feel like an understatement in this scenario,” said Sherry Levin, one of Konstat’s grandchildren. “When we think about what it took for my grandmother and grandfather to survive and how they were able to intersect in Mexico, and such an amazing multi-generational family has come to fruition, it feels miraculous.”
Pictured here on their 40th anniversary, Fini and her husband David met in Mexico City after both had fled Europe. They were married 54 years before David died in 2001. (Courtesy)
Reviews of the show have ranged from rhapsodic to resistant, with some critics suggesting the play is simplistic and obvious in its story-telling or that it is less a well-crafted play than a well-meaning lesson on the Holocaust.
But just as the Merz family clashes and argues about everything from antisemitism to intermarriage to socialism in “Leopoldstadt,” each generation of the Konstat family that saw “Leopoldstadt” that night came away with something different — a reaction influenced by their age, their Jewish identity, their nationality and their relationship with their family.
For Konstat, the arc of “Leopoldstadt” was so familiar that it hardly stirred her. “It was just very happy watching it and enjoying it and enjoying my children with me, “ she told the New York Jewish Week. “I didn’t think about anybody else.”
Akers, too, felt an intense familiarity with the story, and, perhaps toughened by her own family history, didn’t experience an intense emotional reaction. Her own parents’ lives gave Akers a sense of purpose in her life — for example, in the 1990s, she was passionate about helping resettle Jews fleeing the former Soviet Union. With her own children, she instilled in them a strong sense of Jewish purpose in their work, their education and their family.
“I was a sandwich in between seeing my mother and my granddaughter,” she said of her “Leopoldstadt” experience. “I was emotional thinking of my mom who went through it, but I was more emotional about seeing my granddaughter be so moved. It really hit her at her core.”
Indeed, it was the youngest member of the family present that night who was most shaken by the play.
“It really felt like a gift to my family and to me, specifically, to be able to see what Mimi’s life looked like before the war,” Lexi Levin said, surmising that, as a fourth-generation survivor, she is among the first in her family to be able to start processing the loss on a grander scale.
“For the first time in my life, I really felt the magnitude of her loss,” she added. “I’ve known her story and I’ve been inspired by her story to be involved with my own Jewish causes, but I have never been able to access and truly empathize with her grief and what it meant that she lost the entire family she had before this one that she created.”
Turning to her great-grandmother, as if trying to make her understand the exact precision of the show, Levin explained, “It’s a play about generations and the family was large and then it was small.”
“You made it large again,” she said, referring to the generations of family that had assembled — in the Broadway theater and again over Thanksgiving weekend. “Look at this room.”
Pictured on her 90th birthday in 2017, Fini Konstat now has three children, ten grandchildren and twenty great-grandchildren. (Courtesy)
There was a coda for the family after the curtain went down. The day after the show, the family wanted to see the 1907 “Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I,” one of Gustav Klimt’s most famous paintings, which currently hangs at the Neue Galerie on the Upper East Side. A version of the portrait’s true story — how a painting of a socialite from a prominent Viennese Jewish family was looted by the Nazis and the family’s efforts to get it back — features in the plot of “Leopoldstadt.”
The gallery, however, was closed on the only day the family could visit. After a call to the management at the gallery, which showcases the German and Austrian art collections of Jewish philanthropist Ronald S. Lauder, the gallery’s director arranged a private tour.
“It felt like we were in a puzzle and everything was finally coming together,” said Akers. “It was an emotional, emotional time.”
When the week was over and the emotions were spent, Konstat and the Akers returned home with a reignited passion for their family story. But there was yet another twist: In addition to the whirlwind trip Levin planned for her grandparents and for Mimi, she had been undergoing the laborious process of applying for Austrian citizenship. Six members in Konstat’s large family have undertaken the process over the last two years.
“Part of the motivation was knowing Mimi’s story, and knowing that she survived because her mother had citizenship in Turkey,” Levin said. “That story was just inspirational to me, knowing that dual citizenship was what saved our family.” She convinced her brother and mother to apply for Austrian citizenship as well.
The day after her grandmother and great-grandmother left New York, Levin called them with news from her small apartment in Manhattan: An Austrian passport had arrived in the mail. The curtain was rising on another act.
Konstat was surprised at how interested her family was in getting Austrian citizenship. “I feel very good,” she said. “I’m very happy.”
“Does it make you emotional?” Levin asked her during the Zoom call with the New York Jewish Week.
“It does — of course it does. I used to love Austria,” she said. “I was sad to leave. I was disappointed. We never thought of coming back. I was happy to be able to escape. Thank God we made it out of hell.”
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Secular Jews speak Yiddish in Israeli TV series ‘Makom Sameach’
במשך פֿון די לעצטע יאָרן קען מען אויף דער ישׂראלדיקער טעלעוויזיע באַמערקן אַלץ מער דיאַלאָג אויף ייִדיש.
געוויינטלעך הערט מען ייִדיש אין סעריעס וועגן דער פֿרומער וועלט, ווי „שטיסל“ אָדער „קוגל“, אָדער בײַ היסטאָרישע פֿילמען און סעריעס וואָס פֿאַרנעמען זיך מיט סעקולערע ייִדן. קומט די נײַע סעריע „מקום שׂמח“ („אַ גליקלעך אָרט“), אויפֿן קאַנאַל „כּאן 11“, און ווײַזט ווי דווקא חילונים (סעקולערע ייִדן) — הײַנטצײַטיקע תּל-אָבֿיבֿער — רעדן ייִדיש.
אין דער פּראָגראַם זעט מען ווי נערוועזע אַשכּנזישע געשטאַלטן זוכן אַ מער אינטערעסאַנט לעבן אַנטקעגן די נודנע „געוווינהייטן“ פֿון מאָנאָגאַמיע, פּרנסה און דעם זאָרגן זיך סײַ פֿאַר זייערע קינדער, סײַ פֿאַר זייערע עלטערן, ייִדן פֿון דער שארית-הפּליטה.
דער טיטל „מקום שׂמח“ נעמט זיך פֿונעם באַגריף בײַ פּסיכאָטעראַפּיע, וווּ מע עצהט מענטשן וואָס לײַדן פֿון אַ נערוועז-אַטאַקע, זיי זאָלן זיך אויסמאָלן אַ באַקאַנט היימיש אָרט וואָס קען זיי אַ ביסל באַרויִקן. נועה קאָלער, די שעפֿערין פֿון דער סעריע בשותּפֿות מיט רם נהרי, איז מסתּמא באַווירקט געוואָרן פֿון דער בראַסלעווער פֿילם-רעזשיסאָרין רמה בורשטיין, וואָס איז געווען איר רעזשיסאָרין אין דעם דערפֿאָלגרײַכן פֿילם „לעבֿור את הקיר“ (אַריבער דער וואַנט, 2016). מע קען זאָגן אַז די געשטאַלטן וואָס טראָגן מיט זיך די דורותדיקע טראַוומע און ווײַזן אַ טענדענץ צו מעלאַנכאָליע און נערוועזקייט, קוקן זיך די אויגן אויס אויף מקיים צו זײַן ר׳ נחמנס מצווה „לִהְיוֹת בְּשִׂמְחָה תָּמִיד“ — דאָס כּסדרדיקע זוכעניש נאָך אַן אייגן גליקלעך אָרט.
בײַם צענטער פֿון דער סעריע שטייט דאָס געשטאַלט פֿון ורד (ווערעד) קאָנפֿאָרטי, מײַסטעריש געשפּילט פֿון קאָלער אַליין. ווי עס פּאַסט פֿאַר אַ מענטש מיט אַזאַ משפּחה-נאָמען, וואָס זי האָט געקראָגן פֿון איר מאַן בען קאָנפֿאָרטי (דער אַקטיאָר אַבֿיהו פּנחסובֿ), זוכט זי אין משך פֿון די אַכט קאַפּיטלען שפּורן פֿון „קאָמפֿאָרט“, אַ טרייסט אין איר ליבע־ און משפּחה־לעבן. ס׳איז אָבער בכלל ניט קלאָר, אַז פֿון איר מאַן וועט זי אָט די געוווּנטשענע טרייסט טאַקע געפֿינען. אויף דער זײַט וואַרט אויף איר דער צוציִיקער גײַסטיקער היילער יותּם אַזולײַ (עידן חבֿיבֿ), וואָס פֿאַרקערפּערט, דורך זײַן פֿיזיק און סענסיטיווקייט, אַ שאַרפֿע סתּירה צו ורדס בערישן מאַן. די משפּחה-פּאַטאָלאָגיע פֿאַרפּלאָנטערט זיך נאָך מער ווען ורד שטעלט אָן יותּם צו פּרוּוון היילן איר עקשנותדיקע מאַמע, נעמי ווײַסבאַך (די קאָמישע אַקטריסע תּיקי דײן) פֿון צוקערקרענק, און דערבײַ אויסמײַדן די אַמפּוטירונג פֿון איר פֿוס.
אין דער סעריע מישן די ייִנגערע העלדן אַרײַן געוויסע ייִדישע פֿראַזעס אין זייער העברעיִש, אָבער די צוויי העלדינס פֿונעם עלטערן דור רעדן צווישן זיך טאַקע אַ פֿליסיקן ייִדיש. די צוויי פֿרויען זענען ורדס מאַמע, נעמי, און איר קוזינקע, די פּאַרטיזאַנערקע דבֿורה שלוש — אַ משפּחה-נאָמען וואָס ווערט געוויינטלעך אַסאָצייִרט מיט די ספֿרדישע בויערס פֿון דער שטאָט תּל-אָבֿיבֿ.
דבֿורה ווערט געשפּילט דורך לאה קעניג, וואָס איז שוין אין די נײַנציקער. קעניגס עלטערן האָבן נאָך געשפּילט אין דער ווילנער טרופּע. די רעזשיסאָרן קאָלער און נהרי האָבן באַשלאָסן אַז צווישן זיך זאָלן די עלטערע פֿרויען פֿירן גאַנצע שמועסן אויף ייִדיש. בײַ די קרעדיטן בײַם סוף באַצייכנט מען די ייִדיש־לערערין מרים טרין מיטן טיטל „מתרגלת ייִדיש“, ד״ה די וואָס האָט רעפּיטירט מיט די אַקטריסעס די ייִדיש־שפּראַכיקע רעפּליקן, בעיקר מיט תּיקי דיין וואָס רעדט נישט קיין ייִדיש. דיין האָט זיך אַפֿילו אַ ביסל באַקלאָגט וואָס זי מוז דאָס טאָן. קעניג, בכל-אופֿן, לויבט דיינס ייִדיש.
איין בײַשפּיל פֿון אַ ייִדישן דיאַלאָג אין דער סעריע זעט מען בײַם אָנהייב פֿונעם זעקסטן קאַפּיטל, „סודות חבֿויים“ (באַהאַלטענע סודות). דבֿורה און נעמי טרעפֿן זיך און פֿירן אַזאַ שמועס:
— שלום דבֿורה
— ערשטנס, אַנטשלודיקט זיך בײַ מיר.
— נו, באמת. האָסט אַ פֿרענקישן כּבֿוד.
— אויב דו ביסט געקומען אַהער, מיך נאָך אַמאָל באַליידיקן, קאָנסטו שוין צוריקגיין.
— וואָס שוין האָב איך דיר געזאָגט? איך בין געווען נערוועז און ס׳איז מיר אַרויס — „כּוס אמא שלך!“ צוליב דעם „כּוס אמא שלך“ מישפּטסט מיך אַזוי שווער?
ס׳רובֿ צוקוקער, וואָס קענען סײַ ייִדיש סײַ העברעיִש, לאַכן ווען זיי הערן ווי פֿון דיינס מויל, דער אַלטער ייִדישער באָבען, לאָזט זיך אַרויס די זאַפֿטיקע ישׂראלדיקע קללה „כּוס אמא שלך“. אַנדערע האַלטן דעם אויסדרוק אָבער ווי צו וווּלגאַר און איבערגעטריבן אין דעם קאָנטעקסט. אָבער אַזוי ווערט דער אַלטער סטערעאָטיפּ וועגן ייִדיש אין אַ געוויסן מאָס איבערגעקערט: די פּראָסטע קללה וואָס האָט זיך בײַ נעמין אַרויסגעכאַפּט מיט יאָרן צוריק און דערבײַ קאַליע געמאַכט די באַציִונגען צווישן די צוויי ייִדענעס איז דווקא אַ העברעיִשעאַראַבישע (דיינס געשטאַלט איז אַ ישׂראלי), בעת דבֿורה, די עלטערע „מער ייִדישלעכע“ פֿרוי דאָ, קאָן בשום-אופֿן נישט פֿאַרטראָגן צו הערן אַזאַ וווּלגאַרע פֿראַזע. אָט די בולטע איראָניע וואָס שײך די סטערעאָטיפּן פֿון העברעיִש־רעדער און ייִדיש־רעדער העלפֿט דאָ שאַפֿן אַ שאַרפֿע און אַמוזירנדיקע סצענע.
קאָלער, וואָס קומט פֿון אַ משפּחה מיט לעבן-געבליבענע פֿון חורבן, האָט אויף אַן אינטערוויו אין 2024 דערציילט, אַז זי איז אויפֿגעוואַקסן אין אַ היים פֿול מיט הומאָר. „די באָבע פֿלעג זיך וויצלען, ווען היטלער האָט זיך באַוויזן אויף דער טעלעוויזיע, זאָגנדיק אַז דער ימח־שמוניק איז ׳אַ חבֿר מײַנער׳. אָבער דאַן איז געקומען דער 7טער אָקטאָבער…“
די הײַנטיקע פּאָליטיק שפּילט אין „מקום שׂמח“ אָבער אַ קנאַפּע ראָלע און נאָר דורך סובטילע פּרטים: ווען ורד און בען מיינען אויף אַ רגע אַז זייער פֿאַרווײַלונג-צימער אינעם גליל ווערט אָנגעגריפֿן פֿון צפֿון; אָדער ווען ורדס ברודער נדבֿ ווײַסבאַך (רועי עידן) גייט אַרום אָנגעטאָן אין מיליטערישע מונדירן. אָבער אַפֿילו אָט דער שטאַרקער ישׂראלדיקער זעלנער האָט שטענדיק מורא פֿאַר זײַן ייִדיש מאַמעלע און פּראָבירט זי וואָס מער אויסמײַדן.
נעמיס שטענדיקע וואָרענונג, אַז זי וועט זיך נישט לאָזן אָפּערירן ווײַל „כ׳וויל נישט זײַן קיין בעל-מום אין מדינת-ישראל!“ קען מען אויסטײַטשן אַז אין ישׂראל קען מען זיך נישט דערלויבן צו זײַן אַ שוואַכינקע. די סעריע טוט אַ מערקווירדיקע אַרבעט בײַם אַרויסטרײַבן די שדים פֿונעם עבֿר וואָס רודפֿן דאָס ישׂראלדיקע באַוווּסטזײַן, אָבער פֿון דער אַנדערער זײַט קען מען די סעריע קריטיקירן אַז זי דערווײַטערט זיך פֿון זאָגן עפּעס באַטײַטיקס וועגן די הײַנטיקע פּלאָגענישן און בלוטיקע מלחמות.
אינעם זיבעטן קאַפּיטל „תּיירות יהודית“ (ייִדישער טוריזם), נעמט ורד אָן איר מאַמעס בקשה אַז פֿאַר דער אָפּעראַציע וויל זי באַזוכן ווילנע, כּדי צו זען דעם געטאָ וווּ איר באָבע פּעסיע איז געווען. דער גאַנצער קאַפּיטל איז טאַקע פֿילמירט געוואָרן אין ווילנע, און מיר באַקומען אַ שלל אויסערגעוויינטלעכע קאָמישע און דראַמאַטישע סיטואַציעס.
אַן אַנדער באַנוץ פֿון ייִדיש, וואָס פֿאַרחידושט בלי-שום-ספֿק די ישׂראלישע צוקוקערס געשעט אין אַן אַנדער עפּיזאָד, ווען נעמי פֿאַנטאַזירט אַז אַ באַרימטע ישׂראלדיקע טעלעוויזיע־פּערזענלעכקייט, מאָשיק גלאַמין, קומט צו איר אַרײַן אין דער דירה און הייבט אָן רעדן מיט איר אויף ייִדיש. ער זינגט איר אַפֿילו אַ שלאָפֿליד אויף ייִדיש: „תּל-אָבֿיבֿ פֿאַר האַלבער נאַכט דער ווינט וויל גאָרנישט בלאָזן נאָך און די לופֿט איז שווער און שטיקט און שטיקט מיך איך בין נישט זיכער וואָס צו זאָגן צי כּדאַי בכלל צו פֿרעגן, נישט פֿרעגן.“
קאָלער און נהרי האָבן אַ סך וואָס צו זאָגן וועגן דער הײַנטיקער ישׂראלדיקער געזעלשאַפֿט, וועגן אירע מוראס און שטרעבונגען. לאָמיר נאָר האָפֿן אַז אין זייערע צוקונפֿטדיקע שאַפֿונגען וועלן זיי אויך באַהאַנדלען די האַרבע שוועריקייטן פֿון מלחמה און שלום, וואָס פֿאַרשטיקן אונדזער אַלעמענס לופֿט.
https://www.kan.org.il/content/kan/kan-11/p-962212/s1/967128/
בילדער:
01 די הויפּט געשטאַלטן פֿון דער סעריע „מקום שׂמח“ (פֿון רעכטס): יותם, נעמי, ורד און בען (KAN 11)
02 ורד (קאָלער) און בען (פּנחסאָוו) לעבן אַדורך אַ קריזיס אין זייער זיווג-לעבן (KAN 11)
03 ורד (קאָלער) און איר מאַמע נעמי (דיין) זוכן אַ פֿאַרהיילונג אויפֿן ברעג-ים (KAN 11)
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Over 300 rabbis and Jewish leaders call for removal of UN official who denied Oct. 7 rapes
(JTA) — Over 300 Jewish leaders, including women’s rights advocates and rabbis, urged the United Nations on Tuesday to remove Reem Alsalem, the U.N. rapporteur on violence against women and girls, for denying that rape occurred during Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel.
The letter, which was addressed to U.N. secretary-general Antonio Guterres, came two weeks after Alsalem claimed in a post on X that “No independent investigation found that rape took place on the 7th of October.”
In the letter, its signatories express their “horror and outrage” at Alsalem’s rhetoric, and cite two U.N. reports from March 2024 and July 2025 that concluded that there was “reasonable grounds” to believe that sexual violence had taken place during the attacks “in multiple locations, including rape and gang rape.”
The petition was organized by Amy Elman, a professor at Kalamazoo College who has authored books on antisemitism and state responses to sexual violence, and Rafael Medoff, the director of the David S. Wyman Institute for Holocaust Studies. It was shared with the Jewish Telegraphic Agency soon after being sent to Guterres.
“The targeted sexual abuse of Israelis by Hamas and its supporters is one weapon in the arsenal of those seeking Israel’s obliteration,” Elman said in a statement. “It’s outrageous that deniers such as Reem Alsalem are aiding and abetting the sexual violence by claiming it never happened. These apologists should be ashamed of themselves.”
The letter’s signatories include Deborah Lipstadt, the former antisemitism envoy; Judith Rosenbaum, the head of the Jewish Women’s Archives; Rabbi Irving Greenberg, the former chairman of the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum; Rabbi Deborah Waxman, the president of Reconstructing Judaism; and Hebrew College president Rabbi Sharon Cohen Anisfeld.
Dispute over whether sexual violence took place as Hamas murdered about 1,200 people in Israel on Oct. 7 has solidified as a point of sustained interest for some of Israel’s staunchest critics who allege that Israel and its supporters are using claims of rape as propaganda. Even the United Nations, frequently maligned by Israel and its supporters over its record toward Israel, has drawn allegations of complicity in the propaganda campaign from pro-Palestinian voices — though the U.N. rapporteur on Palestinian rights, Francesca Albanese, who has faced her own calls for dismissal from the Trump administration, has also publicly questioned the claims.
In addition to the U.N. reports, independent reporting and research by an Israeli nonprofit have validated claims of sexual violence on Oct. 7.
In the X exchange that spurred the new letter, Alsalem was arguing with another user about the Israeli government’s prosecution of soldiers accused of abusing a Palestinian detainee.
A day later, Alsalem posted a link to a Substack podcast from October where she criticized the credibility of the March 2024 U.N. report and said she had sought contact with the Israeli government to confirm its findings but had not received a response.
“The media, certain organizations and the world basically fell into the trap that Israel set up, which is to project that there was barbaric sexual violence being committed by these barbarian Palestinian men, and it was spun around and disseminated and very much used in order to then justify the genocide,” said Alsalem on the podcast.
Medoff said in a statement that Alsalem’s continued employment reflected inconsistent standards when it comes to Israel and antisemitism.
“If a UN official made such a remark concerning rape victims from any other ethnic or religious group, there would be an international uproar,” he said. “The same standard should apply to Israeli Jewish women who were sexually assaulted by Hamas terrorists.”
The post Over 300 rabbis and Jewish leaders call for removal of UN official who denied Oct. 7 rapes appeared first on The Forward.
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Rome synagogue memorial for 2-year-old killed in 1982 Palestinian terror attack vandalized
(JTA) — A synagogue in Rome and a memorial for a 2-year-old boy killed in a 1982 attack by Palestinian terrorists on the city’s Great Synagogue were vandalized on Monday by unknown individuals.
The plaque dedicated to Stefano Gaj Taché, who was killed in the attack that also left 37 injured, is located on the Monteverde synagogue, also known as the Beth Michael Synagogue, in Rome.
The unknown vandals spray painted black on the memorial, and also wrote “Free Palestine” and “Monteverde anti-Zionist and anti-fascist” on the facade of the synagogue, according to the Italian newspaper Corriere della Sera.
The vandalism was condemned by Victor Fadlun, the president of the Jewish Community of Rome, who said in a post on Instagram that the incident came amid a “a climate of intimidation” where antisemitism has “become a tool of political protest.”
“We place our trust in the police and call for the government’s strong intervention to halt this spiral of hatred,” Fadlun continued.
The incident comes amid a recent series of antisemitic vandalism in Rome, an epicenter of pro-Palestinian activism that has continued to see large demonstrations even after the ceasefire in the Israel-Hamas war in Gaza.
In October, the words “Dirty Jews, may you all burn” were spray-painted on the shutters of a kosher bakery, and in June a sign at another local synagogue was defaced with the words “Sieg Heil” and ”Juden Raus.”
“This is an act that outrages the Jewish community and deeply wounds it, because the plaque is dedicated to a child murdered by Palestinian terrorism and because this is a meeting place where young people and children meet, where they pray and create a sense of community,” Fadlun told Corriere della Sera. “Attacking the synagogue in this way means disavowing and violating the right of Jews to be able to come together and lead a normal life.”
In a subsequent post on Instagram, Fadlun said Italian President Sergio Mattarella had spoken to him over the phone to express his “solidarity” in relation to the synagogue vandalism.
Antonio Tajani, the Italian minister of foreign affairs, also condemned the vandalism in a post on X, adding that he has called Fadlun as well.
The European Jewish Congress also condemned the vandalism in a post on X. “This is not ‘anti-Zionism.’ It is antisemitism: the targeting of Jewish memory, Jewish mourning and Jewish history,” the group said. “Stefano’s name is a symbol of one of Italy’s darkest terror attacks. His memory should be protected, not desecrated. We stand in solidarity with the Jewish community of Italy and call on authorities to investigate this hate crime and ensure that such acts are treated with the seriousness they deserve.”
The post Rome synagogue memorial for 2-year-old killed in 1982 Palestinian terror attack vandalized appeared first on The Forward.