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Condoms and tikkun olam: An Orthodox woman strives to aid sex workers in Prague
PRAGUE (JTA) — Not long after she puts away her silver Shabbat candlesticks and home-baked challah, Yael Schoultz walks through a cavernous hallway, and up a set of gray concrete stairs. Past a door, she finds a group of heavily made-up women in red and black G-strings and spike heels, listlessly beckoning men for sex in return for cash.
Schoultz, 43, spotted about 30 women at the Prague brothel floating from room to room in various states of undress — negligees, see-through bras — with accents as varied as their lipstick shades. Some are smiling, some appear bored as they play games on their phones, others are trying to woo potential clients with a simple, “Come have a good time, come to my room.”
It’s a typical Saturday night post-Shabbat routine for Schoultz, an Orthodox Jewish South African who recently launched L’Chaim, an organization dedicated to helping sex workers in the Czech Republic.
Schoultz and her colleagues engage the women with friendly banter about health and the weather, careful not to interrupt those with customers. The L’Chaim volunteers collectively carry a few hundred free condoms along with high-end soaps and hand-crafted bracelets.
“The girls always ask for extras for their friends,” Schoultz said.
Schoultz, who has been visiting Czech brothels since she moved to Prague in 2011, is not a mere purveyor of gifts. Her goal is to establish a rapport with the women she meets so that they can leave the business of sex work if they so wish. And her Jewish faith is a core driver of Schoultz’s quest to provide a better life for the sex workers.
“Some of the women have been trafficked,” she explained, referring to the term governments and human rights advocates use to describe a contemporary form of slavery. “There are girls who were tied up for days and raped, even by the police. Some might seem to be in the brothel voluntarily, but not really, because they owe a lot of money on a debt and feel sex work is only way they can pay it back.”
Dressed in black from head to toe, in what a fashion magazine might describe as modest goth, Schoultz is a veteran of global anti-trafficking efforts. A few decades ago, while teaching English in South Korea, Schoultz volunteered for an organization that was trying to stop the trafficking of North Korean women to China. At the same time, she was getting a master’s in theology and wanted to move to Europe to get her doctorate, which was possible at Prague’s Charles University.
“When I got to the Czech Republic, I started looking for people who were working on the trafficking issue and found three women: a Catholic nun and two Protestant missionaries. All of them were in their 60s,” Schoultz said.
Schoultz asked if she could join them in their visits to brothels.
“I just went in and started talking to women, about really anything. Language wasn’t a barrier because most sex workers speak English,” she recalled. “But it was a bit weird walking into these places with a nun in full habit.”
After a few months Schoultz began to feel uncomfortable — not with the sex workers, but with her philanthropic colleagues’ proselytizing and “religious agenda.”
“I wasn’t interested in giving out Virgin Mary medallions,” she said.
Schoultz, who teaches English at an international school in Prague, started her own informal volunteer group to help sex workers in 2012, while also embarking on a deeply personal Jewish journey.
Although she believes her father has “Jewish ancestry,” Schoultz was brought up in a Protestant home. Still, she long maintained a deep interest and connection to Judaism which intensified when she pursued her studies in theology. For several years, she regularly attended Orthodox services at 13th-century Old New Synagogue and volunteered for the Prague Jewish Community’s social services department before completing an Orthodox conversion in 2020 with Israeli rabbi David Bohbot. She has now begun her master’s degree in Jewish Studies at the Ashkenazium in Budapest, a division of the secular Milton Friedman University operated by the Hasidic Chabad-Lubavitch movement.
“From the beginning when I knew I wanted to make the conversion, Orthodox Judaism was something I agreed with theologically, it is where I felt most comfortable,” said Shoultz, who describes herself as Modern Orthodox.
Rabbi Dohbot praised Schoultz’s dedication. “This work she does is noble, and isn’t that what most big religions are based on? Showing love and respect for others?” he said.
Schoultz completed an Orthodox conversion to Judaism in 2020. (Courtesy of Schoultz)
Last year, Schoultz achieved another transitional milestone: obtaining Czech government recognition of L’Chaim as a registered nonprofit.
Although L’Chaim is a secular organization, Schoultz sees her work through the lens of tikkun olam, the rabbinical command to repair the world.
“I feel like as a Jewish person, you’re supposed to bring light to the world,” said Schoultz. “And the sex industry is very dark, because even if you choose to be a sex worker, it’s not a job that anybody really enjoys as the customers are often drunk or abusive.”
“It might sound strange, but I feel very connected to Hashem when I am in the brothel, because he is there for me, and for these women too,” she added, using the preferred Orthodox Hebrew term for god.
Schoultz’s co-volunteers, who are mostly not Jewish, are aware of her commitment to the faith.
“After Yael started getting serious about Judaism, she found her path, she was more complete and found her purpose,” said Natalia Synelnykova, who worked with Schoultz to launch L’Chaim. “Everyone would say that their friends are unique, but I have rarely met someone who is so human-centered as Yael, and that is definitely linked to how she sees Judaism.”
Schoultz named her new organization L’Chaim — to life, in Hebrew — as a message to those she seeks to help.
“We want the women in the brothels to have a life because a lot of them feel like they don’t have any life, like they’re barely making it,” she said.
There are about 100 brothels in Prague, according to media reports, and roughly 13,0000 sex workers in the Czech Republic, of which about half are thought to be single mothers. Although sex work is legal, pimping is not, so the brothels operate in a murky legal area that legislators have been trying to address for decades.
Once a hotspot for human trafficking, today the Czech Republic has a relatively low rate of human sex slavery according to government statistics. But Schoultz said the numbers are misleading.
“No one really knows how many trafficked women there are in the country,” she said.
A U.S. State Department report praised the Czech Republic’s efforts to limit trafficking but also noted that the country is more focused on prosecutions of criminals rather than on helping victims. Their stories stay with Schoultz.
“I meet many Nigerian women who may not be locked up in a room, but they are locked up by Juju,” she said, referring to a form of “black magic” that some Nigerian traffickers reportedly use to scare women into prostitution.
She also counsels “Romanian girls who are initially romanced by men that turn out to be traffickers.” A man will have many women he calls “wives,” and each one has a baby with him, “The women give him all their money to support the baby who he keeps as a form of collateral in Romania,” Schoultz said.
(Shoultz turned down JTA’s request for contacts of sex workers she has helped, noting that this would violate L’Chaim’s promise of confidentiality).
The Czech Republic’s leading anti-trafficking organization, La Strada, takes a different orientation towards sex work than L’Chaim, focusing on it more as a legitimate profession that should be organized and regulated.
“We believe women are fully able to decide for themselves if they want to be sex workers and our goal is to provide safety for those who do so, to help them organize, fight stigma and have the rights of all other workers,” said Marketa Hronkova, La Strada’s director. La Strada defines trafficking strictly as those who are physically coerced or blackmailed into providing labor.
Hronkova said there are many sex workers who choose their profession willingly and that it is patronizing and often damaging when those who say they want to help focus exclusively on “pushing women to exit a path they have chosen, as if they have no minds of their own.”
The alternative to sex work, for a single mother, can often put her in an even worse financial situation, she noted. “Our goal is to make sex work safe, not to get women to stop doing it,” said Hromkova.
Concerning L’Chaim, she said as long as its aim was listening to women, and not making them feel ashamed, it could be helpful. La Strada already cooperates with another Czech organization, Pleasure Without Risk, which maintains a neutral stance towards sex work and provides women with access to testing for sexually transmitted diseases as well as counseling.
L’Chaim’s goal, Schoultz explained, is to identify who might be trafficked and provide them with the confidence and practical resources to rebuild their lives. But since getting access to the women requires earning the trust of brothel owners and managers, L’Chaim doesn’t advertise itself as an anti-trafficking group.
“We show up as providing support to women in prostitution, that gets us in the door,” she reflected. L’Chaim has about a dozen volunteers.
It can take Schoultz six months of relationship building before she finds out what brought the client into sex work.
“We start by talking about her kids, talking about her dogs,” said Schoultz “and eventually their stories come out, many involving abuse, trauma and mental health problems.”
She estimated that at the 13 or so brothels she regularly visits in Prague and Brno, at least half the sex workers were not there on a fully voluntary basis.
In the future, Schoultz hopes to create trafficking awareness campaigns and help the customers of sex workers recognize the signs that a woman is working against her will.
The brothel owners are not always pleasant to deal with, Scholtz acknowledged.
“At one place an owner came behind me and kissed my neck on the back of my neck. It was really creepy,” she said.
And despite her modest dress, or tznius, in keeping with her Orthodox values, she said she was pursued by a brothel customer to participate in “group sex.” She fended him off calmly by explaining that she “offered services, but not those kinds of services.”
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Trump-MBS Dealmaking Shaped Gaza Vote at UN, Empowering Hamas, Israeli Analysts Warn
US President Donald Trump greets Saudi Crown Prince and Prime Minister Mohammed bin Salman, during a dinner at the White House in Washington, DC, US, Nov. 18, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Tom Brenner TPX IMAGES OF THE DAY
This week’s UN Security Council resolution endorsing US President Donald Trump’s 20-point Gaza peace plan was timed to appease Western and Arab governments and deliberately crafted to blur the question of Palestinian statehood in pursuit of broader regional interests, according to Israeli analysts, who warned the move risked empowering Hamas and endangering Israel’s security.
Einat Wilf, a former member of Israel’s parliament, known as the Knesset, said the UN resolution intended to remove the Palestinian question from the headlines but could lay the groundwork for “another Oct. 7,” referring to Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel, by repeating the same policy of ambiguity that allowed the Palestinian terrorist organization to regroup under previous ceasefire agreements.
Dan Diker, president of the Jerusalem Center for Security and Foreign Affairs (JCFA), argued the vote was strategically timed to coincide with Trump’s meeting with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman in Washington. The US president sought to pair international endorsement of his 20-point Gaza plan with Saudi commitments toward normalizing relations with Israel. Bin Salman, also known as MBS, told reporters in the Oval Office on Tuesday that he was open to joining the Abraham Accords, a series of US-brokered Arab-Israel normalization agreements, if credible progress toward Palestinian statehood could be demonstrated.
The Trump administration aimed to show that the “pathway to implementing Stage Two of the Gaza plan — which includes the International Stabilization Force and a framework for Palestinian statehood — is already in place,” Diker told The Algemeiner in a phone call. “The goal was to get international sanction through the UN so the White House could silence naysayers who claim the plan is a Trump-Israel conspiracy.”
A new poll conducted by the JCFA ahead of the Security Council vote found that 70% percent of Israelis opposed the creation of a Palestinian state under current conditions, with opposition rising to just under 80% among Jewish Israelis. Even when linked to Saudi normalization, the overwhelming majority (62%) remained opposed.
According to Diker, the UN resolution was largely declarative and would not bring the region closer to a Palestinian state. The real agenda rested with Saudi-US ties, with MBS telling Trump that Saudi investments in the United States would increase to nearly $1 trillion. Palestinian statehood figured mostly as lip service, and while Israel signed on, the Palestinian leadership in the form of the Fatah-led Palestinian Authority has proven incapable of governing its own public, with polling consistently showing Hamas as the preferred choice among Palestinians — both in Gaza and the West Bank.
“It’s an ironic development that the great Western powers pushing for a Palestinian state are essentially strengthening Hamas’s hand as the effective leadership of the Palestinian people following the Oct. 7 massacres,” he said.
Wilf, who recently announced her return to politics with her newly formed Oz party, argued that Washington’s goal is to push the Palestinian issue “off the headlines” long enough to advance its broader Middle East agenda.
“The Abraham Accords are no longer about normalizing relations with Israel,” she said in a briefing with reporters on Wednesday. “It’s basically American shorthand for bringing the Islamic and Arab world into the Western orbit in a more structured way and pulling them as much as possible away from China.”
Wilf warned that while Washington’s approach of “constructive ambiguity — the vague language now anchoring the resolution — may serve its short-term strategic goals for the conflict, it puts Israel at risk. By avoiding clear definitions of what a reformed Palestinian Authority or a de-radicalized Gaza would mean, she argued, the resolution leaves the same loopholes that allowed Hamas to rebuild in the past.
The deeper problem, Wilf argued, is a pervasive Palestinian ideology built on rejecting Jewish sovereignty. Until that changes, efforts toward statehood will remain hollow, a dynamic she summed up as “Schrödinger’s Palestine” — a state when it comes to attacking Israel in international forums but not a state when it comes to taking responsibility for its own actions.
Diker said the tension Wilf described has already become a “built-in collision” between Western diplomacy and Palestinian realities.
“The West is acting in a rather colonialist manner by refusing to note the democratic choice of the Palestinian people,” he said. “Oct. 7 was Hamas’s crowning achievement to ultimately uproot and replace the Fatah-led leadership of the Palestinian street.”
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Iran ‘Has No Choice’ but to Move Capital as Water Crisis Deepens, Says President
People shop water storage tanks following a drought crisis in Tehran, Iran, Nov. 10, 2025. Photo: Majid Asgaripour/WANA (West Asia News Agency) via REUTERS
Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian affirmed on Thursday that the country “has no choice” but to relocate its capital, warning that severe ecological strain has made Tehran impossible to sustain — even as the regime spends billions of dollars rebuilding its military and nuclear infrastructure and backing its terrorist proxies.
In a televised national address, the Iranian leader renewed his call to relocate the capital, asserting that the deepening crisis has “rendered the city uninhabitable.”
Pezeshkian said Iran’s water, land, and infrastructure systems are under such extreme pressure that relocating the capital is now unavoidable, adding that when the move was first proposed, the government lacked even a minimal budget to pursue it.
“The truth is, we have no choice left — relocating the capital is now a necessity,” he said during his speech.
With parts of the city sinking up to 30 centimeters a year and water supplies dwindling, Pezeshkian described Tehran’s current situation as a “catastrophe.”
He urged government ministries and public officials to coordinate their efforts to avert a grim future for the country.
“Protecting the environment is not a game,” the Iranian leader said.
“Ignoring it is signing our own destruction,” he continued, explaining that Tehran can no longer cope with population growth or the city’s expanding construction.
Among the solutions considered to tackle the crisis, one has been importing water from the Gulf of Oman. However, Pezeshkian noted that such an approach is extremely costly, with each cubic meter costing millions to deliver to Tehran.
Earlier this year, the Iranian regime announced it was considering relocating the capital to the Makran coast in the country’s south, a remote region overlooking the Gulf of Oman, in a bid to ease Tehran’s congestion and alleviate its water and energy shortages.
Advocates of this initiative emphasize its strategic benefits, including direct access to the Indian Ocean and significant economic potential through maritime trade, centered on the port of Chabahar, Iran’s crucial gateway to Central Asia.
However, critics argue that the region is still underdeveloped, fraught with security risks, and unprepared to function as a capital, warning that the move could cost tens of billions of dollars — an amount the country cannot bear amid economic turmoil, soaring inflation, and renewed United Nations sanctions.
Notably, the Iranian regime has focused its resources on bolstering its military and nuclear programs rather than addressing the country’s water crisis, a choice that has left citizens’ needs unmet while advancing its agenda against Israel.
The regime has also spent billions of dollars supporting its terrorist proxies across the region and operations abroad, with the Quds Force, Iran’s elite paramilitary unit, funneling funds to the Lebanese group Hezbollah, in defiance of international sanctions.
According to the US Treasury Department, Iran has provided more than $100 million per month to Hezbollah so far this year alone, with $1 billion representing only a portion of Tehran’s overall support for the terrorist group, using a “shadow financial system” to transfer funds to Lebanon.
Iran also provides weapons, training, logistical support, and political backing to the group along with other proxies, including Hamas in Gaza, the Houthis in Yemen, various militias in Iraq and Syria, and other Islamist entities.
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A shocking true story of Mexico’s Jewish community comes to Netflix
Growing up in Paris, an Italian castle, South Africa at the dawn of its civil rights movement and a kibbutz in the then-new state of Israel sounds like it would be enriching, the project of idealistic parents who wanted their children to see the world and witness history. But that wasn’t exactly how it unfolded for Tamara Trottner, née Salzberg, and her brother Isaac.
Instead, they lived in these locations for three years because they were on the run with their father Leo (Emiliano Zurita), who was being hunted by Interpol for kidnapping his own children. He had taken them to retaliate against his wife, Valeria (Tessa Ia), after she had an affair with his brother-in-law.
Trottner wrote a memoir about the experience and it has been adapted into a gripping and sumptuously-filmed Spanish-language miniseries, No One Saw Us Leave, which recently arrived on Netflix.
In the opening episode, we see a stylish wedding between a young Valeria and Leo, both children of leaders of Mexico City’s small Ashkenazi Jewish community. As she prepares to walk down the aisle, Valeria’s mother tells her she is destined to have “a sheyne lebn” — a beautiful life, in Yiddish — and the crowd dances to “Hava Negila.”

But even at their wedding, there’s little warmth between the two; their marriage is closer to a merger between their two families, and while they don’t hate each other, there’s little mutual understanding — Leo believes Valeria should be the woman of the house, but she is tapped into the burgeoning feminism of the 1960s and wants to get a Master’s degree.
We switch between flashbacks of the pair’s marriage — we see the beginnings of Valeria’s affair, as she dances with her brother-in-law Carlos — and Leo’s international run with his children, Tamara and Leo. Though the children, who begin the voyage aged 5 and 7, constantly ask about their mother, he alternates between telling them that she is coming to join them soon and that she did “something bad” and doesn’t want to see them anymore. In fact, Valeria is searching desperately, and has hired an ex-Mossad agent (Ari Brickman) to aid her in the international hunt.
It’s an emotional and suspenseful story as Leo routinely manages to evade the international police. But the subtle story driving all of the drama is that of the tight-knit Jewish community in Mexico City — even today, only 3% of Mexican Jews marry outside the community — and the interplay of respectability and influence within it.
As part of his retribution against Valeria — and to protect his own reputation as he flees Mexico — Leo spreads a story that his wife was unstable and an unfit mother, even alleging that she had been committed to a psychiatric facility. For at least the first episode of the show, the audience, too, is unsure why Leo has really taken the children, and the story about Valeria seems plausible; we’re not sure who to stand with.
The rest of the Jewish community, too, is unsure; at first, people ice out Valeria and her family as they try to gain information about the children’s whereabouts. The push and pull between two powerful families leaves the community confused and caught in the middle. And after Valeria launches a publicity campaign to clear her name and solicit clues, many of the other leaders worry about the damage to the community’s public image in Mexico, alluding to the European antisemitism they fled from. Leo’s father, meanwhile, is a domineering figure who asserts that his daughter-in-law’s affair is just as bad a blow to the community’s reputation as the kidnapping.

The confusion is helped by the fact that Leo is not presented as a villain; he’s a well-developed character, with his own issues with his marriage and with his overbearing father. An ardent socialist, we see him join an activist group against apartheid while hiding in South Africa, and later, when he flees to Israel, he joins the kibbutz he’d dreamed of, and is embraced for his politics and architectural talents.
(Leo’s time in Israel also gives the audience a window into the kibbutzim of the 1960s, which were still practicing an almost militant form of socialism they have since left behind — children were raised communally and told to call their parents by their first names.)
Eventually, Valeria finds her husband and the children, after checking nearly every kibbutz in the country — we see Kfar Aza, one of the towns destroyed on Oct. 7, get crossed off a list — and Israeli courts order Leo and the children back to Mexico. An end note summarizes the rest of the history: Valeria and Carlos, her affair partner, won and raised the children together, who didn’t see Leo again for 20 years.
Of course, much of the show’s drama is in the obvious: Leo’s flight, the children’s growing realization that their father has been lying to them, Valeria’s desperation. But the quiet conflict between families, the power of reputation — both within the small Jewish community and between that community’s relationship and the broader world — undergird every moment of the story. The power of Jewish community is, ultimately, inescapable.
The post A shocking true story of Mexico’s Jewish community comes to Netflix appeared first on The Forward.
