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Converting to Judaism has defined my high school experience
This article was produced as part of JTA’s Teen Journalism Fellowship, a program that works with Jewish teens around the world to report on issues that affect their lives.
(JTA) — During the pandemic, my mom decided to start baking; my friend Reagan learned Osage, a Native American language; my brother taught himself how to skateboard.
I decided to channel my free time and energy into converting to Judaism.
Growing up in the Bible Belt, I was only ever exposed to Christian theology. Almost everyone around me was a Baptist. Although my parents intentionally raised my brother and me without a focus on religion, I grew up going to Christian preschool, Christian summer camps, and being surrounded by other Christians–just because there weren’t other options. While this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, I always knew that Christianity wasn’t right for me.
At first, the idea of eternal life and an all-knowing God provided comfort, but as I got older I started to feel disconnected from Christianity. Concepts like the Holy Trinity never made sense to me, and by age 12 I thought I had given up on religion entirely.
I first started looking into Judaism towards the end of 2020. I’m not really sure what led me to this; I just stumbled upon it and found that its emphasis on making the ordinary holy, repairing the world, and the pursuit of knowledge was a perfect fit for my already existing beliefs. My parents were a little bit shocked but ultimately supportive when I told them that I wanted to convert. My mom’s main concern was that I would become the target of antisemitism. “I’m happy for you and try not to think about the what-ifs,” she said while driving me to the Jewish community center so that I could board the bus headed to the BBYO Jewish youth group’s International Convention.
In the spring of 2021, I emailed the rabbi at a local synagogue about my potential conversion. During our first conversation, he asked me if I’d heard about the custom of rabbis turning away potential candidates three times. I told him I had, but that if he turned me away I would just keep coming back. After the meeting, I signed up for conversion classes and started attending services regularly — and I wasn’t alone.
According to a 2021 Tablet survey, 43% of American rabbis are seeing more conversion candidates than before. The reasons for conversion are diverse. Some candidates fell down an internet rabbit hole that led to a passion for Judaism. Others took an ancestry test and wanted to reconnect with their Jewish heritage. Many were raised as Reform Jews but weren’t Jewish according to stricter halachic, or Jewish legal, standards and decided to convert under Conservative or Orthodox auspices. Despite the common stereotype that Jews by choice must be converting for the sake of marriage, many rabbis said that converts are less likely than ever to be converting for a Jewish partner.
After meeting with a rabbi about the potential conversion, candidates are expected to learn everything they can about Judaism. In my case, that meant 21 weeks of hour-long, weekly conversion classes in addition to independent study on Jewish mysticism, traditions, and ideas. Candidates are also expected to become active members of their local Jewish community and attend services regularly.
Once the candidate and the rabbi feel they are ready to convert, a beit din, or a court usually made up of three rabbis, is assembled. They will conduct an interview, asking the candidate about what brought them to Judaism and basic questions about what was taught during conversion classes. When the beit din has guaranteed that the candidate genuinely wants to convert, the candidate immerses in the mikveh, a pool used for ritual purification. After submerging in the mikveh, the convert is considered to be officially Jewish and is typically called up for an aliyah, ascending the platform where the Torah is read.
According to Rabbi Darah Lerner, who served in Bangor, Maine before her retirement last year, the main difference between teens converting alone and teens converting with their family is the parental approval that’s needed, but otherwise the process is very similar. “I treated them pretty much as I did with adults,” she said. For me, the only parental approval needed was my mom telling my rabbi that she and my dad were fine with me starting the conversion process. She also noted that it was easier for teens to integrate into the Jewish community because people were excited to see young people interested in Judaism.
A mikveh, like this one at Mayyim Hayyim outside of Boston, is a ritual pool where Jews by choice immerse as part of the conversion process. (Courtesy Mayyim Hayyim)
She said that the Jewish community gave the teens a place where they could ask questions and not be shut down. “If they have a pushback, or a curiosity, or a problem we allow them to ask it and we give them real answers or resources,” she said.
“I feel extremely privileged when youth come to me with these questions and these desires,” Rabbi Rachael Jackson, from Hendersonville, North Carolina. Jackson has worked with three teens in the conversion process over the past two years. Like Lerner, she doesn’t require teens to wait until they turn 18 to begin the conversion process. However, it’s not unusual for rabbis to recommend that teens wait until they turn 18 to begin their conversion.
My conversion process has defined my high school experience. I’ve been able to connect with other Jews at my school through BBYO, which has helped me find a community at school and meet people who I might not have met otherwise. Although it’s made me feel farther from the Christian community I was once a part of, Judaism has given me spiritual fulfillment, a love for Israel, and a sense of community — both in my synagogue and my BBYO chapter.
Others who have gone through the process feel much the same way. “I wouldn’t even recognize myself,” said Haven Lail, 17, from Hickory, North Carolina. “My whole personality is based on being Jewish. That’s what I love.” Adopted into a Jewish family at age 12, Lail felt drawn to Judaism because of the loving and accepting community she found.
Raised as a nondenominational Christian, Lail attended church regularly with her biological parents, but not for the religious aspect. “It was all hellfire and brimstone,” she said. Neglected by her birth parents, she only went to church because she knew there would be food there.
Lail started the conversion process at age 12 through a Hebrew high school, and four years later, she submerged in the mikveh and signed a certificate finalizing her conversion. The process was simple, but she was shocked that so few Jews knew about the conversion process. “It was a little weird,” she said.
The Talmud says that because “the Jewish people were themselves strangers, they are not in a position to demean a convert because he is a stranger in their midst.” However, it isn’t uncommon for converts to feel alienated from the rest of the Jewish community. “There’s this fear of going to college and still being othered because you still won’t quite fit in with the people who have been raised Jewish,” said one high school senior from North Carolina.
He was shocked by how alienated he felt after making his conversion public, and wanted to stay anonymous because he worries that once people find out that he converted, they’ll see him differently. “I didn’t ever really explain it to anybody except for the people really close to me,” he said. But after his rabbi called him up for an aliyah — a blessing recited during the reading of the Torah — one woman from the congregation began to bring it up to him every time she saw him. “People don’t realize that it can be a touchy thing and very, very othering,” he said.
I usually don’t mind personal questions about my conversion, but asking someone why they converted or pointing out that someone is a convert is frowned upon by Jewish law. I used to feel like everyone could tell that I wasn’t raised Jewish, but after one of my BBYO advisors thought that my conversion was just a rumor and couldn’t believe that it was true, I realized that wasn’t the case.
All of my friends and peers who were raised Jewish have memories of Jewish summer camps, Shabbat dinners with family, and a lifetime of other experiences. I often struggle with not feeling “Jewish enough” or like I missed out, especially because so many Jewish customs revolve around the home and family. My parents will often come with me to Shabbat services, but don’t participate in Jewish customs or celebrate Jewish holidays with me. “Anything that is a ritual in the home, they don’t really have the ability to have that autonomy,” said Rabbi Rachael Jackson of Agudas Israel Congregation in Hendersonville, North Carolina.
Grace Hamilton, a student at Muskingum University in New Concord, Ohio, has struggled with imposter syndrome during her conversion. Ever since she started college, she’s been questioning her place in the Jewish community and hasn’t been practicing Judaism as much as she used to. “I haven’t prayed in a really long time,” she said. She used to tell herself that once she finalized her conversion she would finally feel Jewish enough, but after a conversation with her rabbi, she realized that wasn’t the case.
According to Rabbi Rochelle Tulik at Temple B’rith Kodesh in Rochester, New York, many converts feel like they will never be Jewish enough. “That, no matter how hard they try, how many books they read or put on their shelves, no matter how often they come to services, or how many menorahs they light, somehow they’ll be caught,” she said in a Rosh Hashanah sermon she named “You Are Not an Imposter.”
Despite the struggles that many converts face, others like Rabbi Natasha Mann, who now serves as a rabbi at New London Synagogue in England, immediately felt at home within the Jewish community. “I felt like people were excited to have me there and wanted to hear what I had to say,” she said. After a family member mentioned that she might have Jewish ancestry, Mann began exploring out of curiosity. “I started looking into it, just because I felt that it was another piece of the puzzle,” she said.
Coming from an interreligious and intercultural family, she wanted to explore another aspect of her heritage, but ended up connecting with Judaism in a way that she hadn’t connected with any other religion. After two years of study, she decided to officially start her conversion process.
The Jewish community gave Mann a place where her ideas were taken seriously and she could have religious discussions, even as a teen. “I don’t know what my life would have looked like if I hadn’t found somewhere to really express and delve into that,” she said. “And luckily, I never have to.”
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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.