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As a child of survivors, I see my parents in every Ethiopian immigrant to Israel
(JTA) — Recently, I watched a mother reunite with her son for the first time in 41 years.
On May 9, I was part of a delegation of the Jewish Agency for Israel that accompanied Ethiopian olim (immigrants) from Addis Ababa to Ben Gurion Airport and new lives in Israel. The mother had made aliyah in 1982 as part of Operation Moses, when Ethiopian Jewish immigrants trekked for weeks through the Sudan, hiding out from authorities in the daytime and walking by moonlight, to reach Israeli Mossad agents, who were secretly facilitating their transport to Israel.
But the son, due to family circumstances, was left behind. And here she was on the tarmac, praying and crying, and the embrace they had when the now grown man walked down the stairs, that depth of emotion after decades of waiting and yearning, was something that I will never forget.
The Ethiopian Jewish community dates back some 2,500 years, from around the time of the destruction of the First Temple. We know that they have always yearned, from generation to generation, to be in Jerusalem. Most of the Ethiopian Jews emigrated to Israel during the 1970s and 1980s and in one weekend in May 1992, a covert Israeli operation, dubbed Operation Solomon, airlifted more than 14,325 Ethiopian Jews to Israel over 36 hours. Those coming today are being reunited with family members who came during one of these earlier operations.
On my four-day trip from Addis Ababa to Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, I listened to the stories of incredible perseverance, and of heartrending suffering, among Ethiopian Jews — our brothers and sisters. Close to 100,000 of them have made their way to Israel over the past 40-plus years, fulfilling this community’s centuries-long quest to come to Israel.
I heard about the Ethiopian Israeli who, as a 15-year-old, marched through Sudan with his family and lost three of his siblings to starvation. I heard the stories of families waiting, for months or years, for that moment of aliyah, as clandestine negotiations among government negotiators dragged on. It was so powerful to hear of the sacrifices they made and how strong the dream was, and is today, of coming to Jerusalem, to Israel.
RELATED: How Israel’s Falash Mura immigration from Ethiopia became a painful 30-year saga
And I thought of my own family’s journey — a different time, under different circumstances. But also a Jewish journey of perseverance, suffering and, for the fortunate among us, survival.
My parents were born in Poland in the 1930s. During World War II, my father and his family survived in a Siberian labor camp and then in a remote part of Poland. My mother’s family managed to get work papers, but her father did not have them. He survived the war by hiding under the floorboards of a barn on a farm where they were living. The woman who owned the farm did not know they were Jewish, so it was a harrowing day-to-day existence.
But my mother and father survived, managed to make it to liberation, and eventually came to the United States. They were first sponsored by the Birmingham, Alabama, Jewish community, and then made their way to New York and New Jersey, where our family has built a new life. We now have fourth-generation children growing up here in New Jersey, and we feel so fortunate for the lives we have.
Here is the essential difference from their story and mine: For my family, there was no state of Israel. Many members of my family perished in the Holocaust. There was nowhere for them to go.
This drives what I do. Today, everything has changed because we have a state of Israel, and we have a Jewish Agency that ensures that Jews can make aliyah and helps them make new lives in Israel.
Last year, after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, I traveled to Poland and stood at the border as thousands of Ukrainian refugees streamed across. I was standing only a few miles from where my grandfather hid under the floorboards of that barn about 80 years earlier. Back then, there was no one there to protect my family, no one to do anything for them. And here I was in 2022 standing amid a massive array of aid agencies, and the very first thing these refugees saw — whether they were Jewish or not — were signs with the Star of David, marking the Jewish Agency, the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee and other Jewish groups.
While there has been significant hardship and struggle for the first generation of Ethiopian Jews in Israel, it was incredibly inspiring for me to meet members of the second generation — those who made the trek as children or teenagers in the 1980s and ’90s — who are now Israeli adults in positions of leadership and significant responsibilities. We heard from Havtamo Yosef, who immigrated as a young child from Ethiopia with his parents, and then watched his father become a street sweeper and his mother a housecleaner while he was growing up. Now he heads up the entire Ethiopian Aliyah and Absorption services for the Jewish Agency, ensuring that there are stronger absorption procedures, better education and firmer foundations for better lives for these new immigrants than there ever was for his family.
While there was no Israel for my family when we were refugees, there were — in Birmingham, Alabama; in Hillside, New Jersey; and everywhere along the way of my family’s journey — people who thought outside of themselves, who cared and took care of my relatives. This is my legacy and what motivates me today.
So when I stood on the tarmac at Ben Gurion earlier this month, I cried tears of sadness at the long family separations and tears of joy that today this Jewish journey continues, from Ukraine and Russia and Ethiopia to Israel. Today, there is a place to go and a people to welcome Jews on that tarmac, with an Israeli flag, a smile and a warm embrace, and a promise of better lives in freedom.
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The post As a child of survivors, I see my parents in every Ethiopian immigrant to Israel appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Strong start for Virginia’s first Yiddish culture festival
It’s not every day that you encounter a man in a Stetson hat singing Yiddish folksongs in the former capital of the Confederacy.
Yet that wasn’t the most unexpected thing this reporter experienced over Richmond Yiddish Week’s opening weekend. The grassroots Yiddish cultural festival, which began on Saturday, got off to an energetic, well-attended start.
The festival’s opening concert, a double billing of local klezmer bands The Vulgar Bulgars and My Son The Doctor, took place Saturday night at Gold Lion Community Café, an art-space in Richmond’s up-and-coming Manchester neighborhood.
Even before the concert began, the venue was standing-room only. “This is clearly the place to be in Manchester tonight,” remarked one attendee as he squeezed into a seat.
Before the first set, festival co-founder Sam Shokin addressed the audience, expressing her delight at the large turnout. “We weren’t sure how many like-minded people we were going to find for a Yiddish culture festival,” she said, “but judging by the crowd it seems like there are a lot of you.” Her remark elicited enthusiastic applause.
Thirty minutes into the first set, the space was so crowded that service staff had difficulty delivering customers’ food and drink orders to the tables. At least one woman gave up waiting in line to place her order until the break between sets.
The Vulgar Bulgars opened with several tightly harmonized and adventurously arranged klezmer instrumentals. Local singer Nina Lankin then joined in for a power ballad-esque and refreshingly non-maudlin rendition of the Yiddish theater classic Papirosn (Cigarettes).
She and the band also shined with a heartfelt rendition of the messianic Yiddish song Shnirele Perele (Ribbons and Pearls). Between sets, as attendees reordered food and drinks, this reporter had a chance to speak with a few attendees.
“I’ve been here for three years or so,” Rachel Enders, a local preschool teacher who told me she’s Catholic, said. “But I had no idea there was this big, vibrant Jewish community here.”
Festival co-founder Danny Kraft said that the local community has some “conservative and insular” tendencies. But at a time when many Jewish communities are retreating into explicitly Jewish spaces, the organizers of RYW chose more public venues for their programming. The local Jewish Federation lent support by funding security. One of Shokin’s and Kraft’s stated goals was to “bring some Yiddishkayt into the local arts community.”
Maribel Moheno — a language instructor at a local university who recently discovered her Jewish ancestry — was the first to start dancing. The rest of the audience got on their feet and joined Moheno during the second set. That set, played by My Son The Doctor, was less polished or interestingly arranged, but far more danceable.
Having finished the circle dance called a freylekhs with Moheno and a dozen or so others, this reporter refueled with a bagel made by local bakery Cupertino’s NY Bagels. It wasn’t bad. Also on offer was an unexpected soft drink called Palestine Cola.
As it turns out, the Gold Lion cafe has, like many such establishments of late, hosted pro-Palestine events. After some community members expressed concern about the festival being held there, the organizers explained that the festival had no stance vis-à-vis Israel-Palestine.
“People on both the left and the right who don’t know much about Yiddish think it’s synonymous with queer, anti-Zionist culture,” Kraft said. “That’s very reductive. Some people in the mainstream community saw this Yiddish event as a dog-whistle or code-word for anti-Zionism. Once we clarified this with the local Federation, that cleared the air a bit.”
“This is a week of celebrating Yiddishkeit,” said Shokin. “We’re focusing on arts and culture — politics, not so much.”
Despite this shturem in a glezl tey (tempest in a teacup), the opening concert had more than 100 people in attendance. Young families with toddlers and tweens mingled with elegantly dressed retirees, long-haired baby boomers, and 20- and 30-something hipsters.
The evening closed out with two lively songs that the audience joined in for: Ale Brider (We’re All Brothers), a popular anthem about Jewish unity, and the Yiddish birthday song Tsu Dayn Geburtstog in honor of an audience member’s birthday.
On Sunday afternoon, the Richmond Public Library’s main branch hosted a Yiddish story time event, which Kraft, who is also a poet and Yiddish translator, led. More than a dozen young families attended.
The program began with a brief Yiddish lesson. Kraft, himself the father of a toddler, then regaled children and parents with the unique Yiddish-Spanish-English picture book Beautiful Yetta: the Yiddish Chicken, using the book’s dialogue to teach more Yiddish phrases.
One high point of the afternoon was an interactive game called “Guess the Animal” where the audience learned the Yiddish terms for familiar animals, including the non-kosher khazer (pig), which got plenty of laughs.
A lot of Yiddish programming today tends to be adult-focused, often geared toward retirees. So a Yiddish festival for children and young parents seems like an expression of hope for Yiddish continuity — a leap of faith, even. Yet despite a small budget and all-volunteer staff, Kraft and Shokin seem to have stuck the landing.
The post Strong start for Virginia’s first Yiddish culture festival appeared first on The Forward.
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UK Prosecutors Try to Reinstate Terrorism Charge Against Kneecap Rapper
Member of Kneecap Liam O’Hanna, also known as Liam Og O hAnnaidh and performing under the name of Mo Chara, speaks to supporters outside Woolwich Crown Court, after a UK court threw out his prosecution for a terrorism offense, in London, Britain, Sept. 26, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Hannah McKay
British prosecutors sought to reinstate a terrorism charge against a member of Irish rap group Kneecap on Wednesday for displaying a flag of Iran-backed Lebanese terrorist group Hezbollah at a London gig, after a court threw out the case last year.
Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh, whose stage name is Mo Chara, was accused of having waved the flag of the banned Islamist group Hezbollah during a November 2024 gig.
The charge was thrown out in September after a court ruled it had originally been brought without the permission of the Director of Public Prosecutions and the Attorney General, and also one day outside the six-month statutory limit.
But the Crown Prosecution Service said it would challenge the ruling and its lawyer Paul Jarvis told London’s High Court on Wednesday that permission was only required by the time Ó hAnnaidh first appeared in court, meaning the case can proceed.
Kneecap – known for their politically charged lyrics and anti-Israel activism – have said the case is an attempt to distract from what they described as British complicity in Israel’s so-called “genocide” in Gaza. Israel strongly denies committing a genocide in the coastal territory, where it launched a military campaign against Hamas after the Palestinian terrorist group invaded Israeli territory.
J.J. Ó Dochartaigh, who goes by DJ Próvaí, was in court but Ó hAnnaidh was not required to attend and was not present.
KNEECAP SAYS PROSECUTION A DISTRACTION
Ó hAnnaidh was charged in May with displaying the Hezbollah flag in such a way that aroused reasonable suspicion that he supported the banned group, after footage emerged of him holding the flag on stage while saying “Up Hamas, up Hezbollah.”
Kneecap have previously said the flag was thrown on stage during their performance and that they “do not, and have never, supported Hamas or Hezbollah.”
The group, who rap about Irish identity and support the republican cause of uniting Northern Ireland with the Republic of Ireland, have become increasingly vocal about the war in Gaza, particularly after Ó hAnnaidh was charged in May.
During their performance at June’s Glastonbury Festival in England, Ó hAnnaidh accused Israel of committing war crimes, after Kneecap displayed pro-Palestinian messages during their set at the Coachella Festival in California in April.
Kneecap have since been banned from Hungary and Canada, also canceling a tour of the United States due to a clash with Ó hAnnaidh’s court appearances.
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German-Israel Deal Strengthens Cyber Defense, German Minister Says
A German and Israeli flag fly, on the day Chancellor Friedrich Merz meets with Israeli President Isaac Herzog for talks, in Berlin, Germany, May 12, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Liesa Johannssen
A new German-Israel agreement aims to counter cyber threats and enhance security infrastructure, German Interior Minister Alexander Dobrindt told parliament on Wednesday.
Dobrindt signed the agreement with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in Jerusalem over the weekend.
The collaboration includes the development of a joint “cyber dome” system, an artificial intelligence and cyber innovation center, drone defense cooperation, and improved civilian warning systems.
“We have already had a trusting partnership in the past, which we want to strengthen further,” Dobrindt said. “Israel has extensive experience in cyber defense. We want to benefit from that.”
The German Interior Ministry said on Monday the agreement would extend to protecting energy infrastructure and connected vehicle networks, in addition to enhancing collaboration in civil protection, counter-terrorism, and criminal prosecution.
European countries are facing increasing pressure to fortify their cyber defense systems against sophisticated attacks.