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For many Jewish teens, COVID broke the synagogue habit
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) — Jordy Levy, 18, remembers sitting at the table with his family, enjoying a relaxed Shabbat dinner at his Atlanta home during the pandemic. There was no hassle of getting dressed up, no schlep to synagogue, just hanging out and spending time with his family. In the background, a Facebook livestream of his congregation’s Friday night services played.
This is a scene that has become largely familiar over the course of the pandemic. COVID-19 forced many synagogues to close their doors and move their services and programs to virtual platforms. Many synagogues saw overall engagement grow as a result of this shift.
And yet for many Jewish teens, Levy’s experience was the exception. The technology, which in some ways made connecting with synagogues more convenient, caused a loss of connection among teens that has lingered even now that most congregations are back in person.
“I know a lot of kids just stopped going to synagogue outright because with COVID-19 they were so used to not going,” said Jill Mankosky, 18, a member of the Conservative Agudas Achim Congregation in Alexandria, Virginia. “This year when the High Holiday services were in person again, I noticed a lot of my classmates who would have been there previously pre-COVID-19 were just not there anymore.”
Congregations are now at a crossroads, determining which direction they want to move in next as the world slowly transitions away from the pandemic.
“Return back to normal is a bad way to phrase it because there is really no normal,” said Maya Kamenske, 16, a member of Agudas Achim.
Especially for Conservative congregations like Kamenske’s, the switch to online prayer was a significant one. In 2001, the Conservative movement’s Jewish law committee prohibited counting someone participating in an online manner towards the prayer quorum, or minyan needed for communal prayer. Virtual services initially breached this decision, although the ruling was soon amended to allow virtual Shabbat services during the pandemic.
Teens Jaqui Drobnis, left, and Max Gordon, right, lead a Tu Bishvat seder with a group of first graders at Agudas Achim Congregation in Alexandria, Virginia. (Courtesy of Chaya Silver)
Virtual services increased accessibility by making it simpler for people who would otherwise struggle to be at the congregation to still participate. For example, Jonah Golbus, 17, said that there were times when he was unable to find a ride to his synagogue, Rodef Sholom in San Rafael, California. Now, he does not have to worry about that. Virtual services allow people more flexibility for participation, and can be squeezed more easily into schedules.
“Having [online] High Holiday services as an option for those who [either] can’t or don’t feel up to coming in person is a really good addition that I’m glad we’ve kept,” said Mankosky. “I’m hoping it continues because, for example, when I’m in college, I can’t come back for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services, but I’d still like to attend the services of [my] synagogue. Having an option to do them on Zoom from my dorm or something would be really helpful.”
Many synagogues saw a definite spike in participation and engagement of their members overall after implementing virtual services made participation simpler. This was not the case for teen programs, though. Many teens interviewed for this article reported that engagement dropped when it went digital.
Kira Rodriguez, a senior in high school and member of the Rodef Sholom congregation, tried to stay involved after Rodef Sholom went virtual, and attended a number of virtual activities for the first few months. Eventually, it just became too much.
“I was just so mentally exhausted from always being on Zoom,” said Rodriguez. “I couldn’t take another two hours of it [for the teen activities].”
Golbus, who struggled to find rides to Rodef Sholom, said that he was never really engaged on Zoom, so he did not attend any of the virtual programming during the pandemic. Now that he has friends who are in-person again, he has become more active in his congregation. Still, the events look different than they used to.
“It’s not as crowded as it used to be,” said Golbus. “There’s less people I know, so there’s less of an incentive on my end to go to these [activities].” He said that it is just less of a habit to go to temple now than it used to be before the pandemic, even if people are slowly reverting back to how it was.
The pandemic-related loss of in-person interactions damaged teens’ social connections within their congregations. While some teens returned to their congregations as they began to open back up, others never did.
Mankosky also blames the decline in participation to her and her peers starting high school and becoming increasingly busy. What is normally a period fraught with change for teens became, in many instances, even more challenging as COVID-19 took its toll. She is not alone in feeling more disconnected from her peers.
Teens from Congregation Rodef Sholom in San Rafael, California enjoyed a kayaking trip as a way to spend time together outdoors. (Courtesy of Rudy Brandt)
“I remember there was a really communal aspect to the congregation before. My religious school class [and I] were really really close. We often invited each other to our birthday parties outside of religious school, even though most of us didn’t even go to class together,“ said Jacob Bensen, 15, about Agudas Achim. ”It was almost like having a second family.” Now, he says, this has fallen to the wayside as the class has mostly lost touch since COVID-19. Most people haven’t put in the effort to reconnect since returning in-person.
Mila Einspruch, 16, had a different experience with Zoom during the pandemic. Prior to COVID-19, she said that she was on the track towards dropping all involvement with her congregation, Temple Sinai, in Oakland, California. With virtual school, Einspruch was unable to hang out with people as she had before. Her Reform congregation had a monthly Zoom club for eighth graders aimed at engaging and conversing. It was such an enjoyable experience that she became more involved in her congregation after it opened back up.
Yet even for those like Einspruch who returned, the community still feels different than it used to.
“Now, everything’s a little bit more fragmented,” said Einspruch. “The biggest thing that’s blocking people from coming [to temple] is just [that] those [social] connections are gone.”
Despite all of this, Rodriguez saw a spike in attendance following COVID-19 at her Reform congregation, Rodef Shalom, as there was a lot of initial excitement to be back in the building together. She said that faded within a couple of months as the initial novelty wore off. Now, there are odd gaps in ages between the teens. There are few freshmen and sophomores that show up, whereas the upperclassmen, like herself, are more likely to participate in activities. A few teens weighed in on why this is happening.
“It feels like there’s this gap of time where I would have started to get more involved after eighth grade into freshman year where there’s this transition of becoming older and going to those activities [beyond religious school], but then that’s when COVID-19 hit for me,” said Adina Golbus, 17, belongs to Rodef Sholom with her brother Jonah. “COVID-19 I think had a part in [me not going to as many activities] because it kind of prevented that transition period.”
All of the trips and activities planned to ease this transition were canceled, exacerbating the rate at which teens stopped being active members in their congregations. Einspruch had a similar experience with the lack of structure.
“Straight out of our bar and bat mitzvahs, there would have been some scaffolding and structure [to motivate teens] to join the teen program,” Einspruch said. COVID-19 dismantled that.
However, Rodriguez said that the number of middle schoolers, particularly seventh graders, has shot up. Einspruch saw the same at Temple Sinai. Neither could point to a reason for the engagement.
Rudy Brandt, the director of youth engagement at Congregation Rodef Sholom, said that the pandemic was particularly tough for teens, so her goal was to design a no-pressure model of youth engagement where teens were able to engage when and how they wanted. To do this, she offered activities across the spectrum, from Get Out the Vote efforts on Zoom to movie conversations to cooking. Much of this is still the case even in-person.
Rodriguez, who also belongs to the Rodef Sholom congregation, said that these programs were particularly successful with the younger teens, and could be a part of why there were so many of them. Despite this, the revamped programming has not seen the same effects with the older kids. In an attempt to communicate and connect more with teens, Brandt and her colleagues have grown their social media footprints.
“[It’s] just kind of meeting teens where they are, trying to put, you know, what’s happening in our spaces in their faces via social media,” Brandt said.
This greater presence has been somewhat successful at encouraging teens to participate in their various youth programs.
“There have been some events that I didn’t go to when I saw [the posts on social media] it was like, I kind of wish I went to that. Maybe I’ll go to the next one,” said Golbus.
Rodef Sholom is not the only congregation that has changed their youth programs to see more engagement. Chaya Silver, the youth director at Agudas Achim Congregation in Alexandria, Va., is currently working on developing a hybrid program for the religious school at her congregation, with the goal of making it more inclusive and flexible for students and their families.
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The post For many Jewish teens, COVID broke the synagogue habit appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Jewish artists face a relentless culture war over Israel. Some are building a way around it.
The pop star P!nk went into Rosh Hashanah explaining herself.
After sharing a post calling for rapper Macklemore to be dropped from Ed Sheeran’s tour over his pro-Palestinian performances, the Jewish singer faced a backlash of her own. On Friday, she clarified that she supported Palestinian humanity, opposed silencing artists and wanted room to express Jewish fear without being accused of endorsing Israel’s war.
Macklemore, meanwhile, said his criticism of Israel was not directed at Jews. Their exchange captured how quickly an argument about a performance can become a fight over identity — and who gets to define someone else’s.
Nearly three years after the Oct. 7 Hamas attacks, those fights are becoming part of the ordinary business of culture: promoting a movie, booking a concert, selling a manuscript. And some Jewish artists and executives are responding by building new places to take their work.
Consider Gal Gadot. While promoting her new Prime Video thriller, The Runner, the Israeli actress and former IDF soldier appeared on Jimmy Kimmel Live! last week, where she and Kimmel blew shofars for Rosh Hashanah. “Why platform her?” read a typical comment under the video on social media. Even sharing an episode became a point of contention: A member of MUNA, the musical guest, subsequently said the band’s performance had been prerecorded and that it hadn’t known who else would appear, adding a message supporting Palestinian freedom.
Artists critical of Israel face their own confrontations. Last month, Paramount accused Mark Ruffalo of invoking antisemitic tropes after he attacked the Ellison family’s corporate interests and Oracle’s work with the Israeli military. Ruffalo rejected the accusation, saying he was criticizing executives and government policy. The disputes involve different conduct and different stakes, but they keep returning to the same contested boundary between political criticism and prejudice.
In publishing, the consequences can be harder to see. Jewish and Israeli authors told The Wall Street Journal that agents had dropped them, editors had sought to remove Jewish or Israeli elements from manuscripts, and overseas publishers had become unwilling to buy their work. Some agents explicitly reject submissions from Zionists.
The picture is uneven: Jewish writers across the political spectrum continue to produce bestsellers, and a rejected manuscript alone cannot establish discrimination. But the accounts have helped spur new businesses.
A wave of new publishers has emerged to give Jewish and Israeli writers a home after agents and editors say mainstream houses have quietly frozen them out since Oct. 7: Neil Blair, best known as J.K. Rowling’s literary agent, launched High Line Publishing Studio last week to publish authors he says have been shut out elsewhere; Canary Publishing opened this month with the same mission; and Meg Keene Books, a new fiction imprint, will publish the American edition of Howard Jacobson’s Howl, which struggled to find a U.S. publisher despite its Booker Prize-winning author.
A similar response is taking shape in Hollywood. Former NBC co-chairman Ben Silverman is among the backers of SHOOQ, a new platform connecting Jewish filmmakers with investors and philanthropists. Its founders say talented storytellers need help finding the funding to get their projects made.
These ventures offer something practical to people exhausted by defending their right to participate: a publisher, a financial introduction, a way to keep working. They also raise a question that will outlast the latest celebrity argument: Can new Jewish cultural institutions help artists reach a wider public, or will an increasingly divided industry leave them speaking mainly to their own?
This essay first appeared in our Forwarding the News morning newsletter. Subscribe here.
The post Jewish artists face a relentless culture war over Israel. Some are building a way around it. appeared first on The Forward.
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‘We return changed’: Michigan synagogue reopens for Rosh Hashanah six months after a gunman forced them out
Six months after he was injured protecting his synagogue, Danny Phillips helped carry a Torah back into its sanctuary. The security director was still recovering. So was the congregation.
On Friday evening, the Jews of Temple Israel in West Bloomfield, Michigan, returned to celebrate Rosh Hashanah in the sanctuary they had been forced to leave after a gunman attacked their synagogue in March. The Torah scrolls came home to their ark. Familiar prayers filled the room again. And the High Holidays’ ancient invitation to return took on a meaning no one there could have anticipated a year earlier.
“This room holds more than our services; it holds our memories,” Cantor Neil Michaels said in his welcome, recalling the weddings, coming-of-age ceremonies and farewells that had taken place there.
Throughout the service, clergy and congregational leaders spoke openly about what it meant to enter a sacred space where their sense of safety had been shattered. They described gratitude alongside grief, and the effort of caring for others while still struggling themselves. Returning to the building was one step toward learning to feel at home again.
The congregation’s co-presidents, Debra Gordon and Jodi Neff, gave that work a plainspoken expression: “How do you lead others when you are trying to steady yourself?” Gordon asked.
The answer, in the stories shared from the bimah, was that others helped carry the weight.
The prayer books came from other congregations. Temple Israel’s machzors had been destroyed in the attack, and the edition it used was out of print. Synagogues around the country sent replacements. Rabbi Harold Loss told worshippers that the book he picked up bore another congregation’s initials — a small reminder, held in his hands, of the community that had sustained them.
The children had already made their own return. Earlier that week, students came back to the early childhood center and received teddy bears marking the occasion with the Shehecheyanu, the blessing of gratitude for reaching a significant moment. An educator recalled a parent saying that, after six months in which nothing had felt normal, the first day back finally did.
Their neighbors had helped make the journey possible. On the day of the attack, the Chaldean Christian community’s Shenandoah Country Club across the street sheltered children and teachers. The following evening, it hosted the congregation for Shabbat. At the holiday service, Temple Israel’s leaders again thanked those neighbors, along with the staff, first responders and restoration workers who helped sustain and rebuild their community.
Coming home still required protection. The March 12 attacker drove a truck into the synagogue and exchanged gunfire with security personnel while preschoolers were inside. The reopening included additional security measures. Temple Israel’s Rabbi Josh Bennett has also spoken about the emotional and financial difficulty of making a synagogue secure while preserving its welcome — a challenge facing Jewish congregations far beyond Michigan.
Near the end of their remarks, the co-presidents described teshuvah, the season’s work of return, as something that allowed room for everything the congregation had endured.
“We return changed,” Neff said, “but still rooted.”
This essay first appeared in our Forwarding the News morning newsletter. Subscribe here.
The post ‘We return changed’: Michigan synagogue reopens for Rosh Hashanah six months after a gunman forced them out appeared first on The Forward.
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J Street goes on the offensive against AIPAC-backed candidates
(JTA) — J Street, the liberal Jewish Middle East advocacy group, announced that it will spend $3 million to defeat a handful of Republican candidates backed by AIPAC, joining the plethora of progressive groups targeting the American Israel Public Affairs Committee this election year.
Such an attack campaign is an unusual initiative for J Street, which typically endorses candidates but does not target opponents on the basis of an AIPAC endorsement. Until now, according to J Street President Jeremy Ben-Ami, the likelier scenario for his organization was finding its endorsed candidates on the defensive against AIPAC’s spending.
“It’s a new era for us,” Ben-Ami said in an interview. In 2022, J Street targeted an AIPAC backed candidate — but only after AIPAC barraged the J Street endorsed candidate with negative spending.
In a statement, J Street said that this will be the group’s largest super PAC investment in its history, referring to political action committees that can raise unlimited funds but are forbidden from coordinating with campaigns.
The $3 million will be spent on ads targeting Republican Rep. Mike Collins, who is running for U.S. Senate in Georgia against Democratic Sen. Jon Ossoff, who is Jewish, and a handful of incumbents: Ohio Rep. Max Miller, who is running for reelection amid allegations of domestic abuse, which he denies; Wisconsin Rep. Derrick Van Orden; Pennsylvania Rep. Ryan Mackenzie; and Iowa Rep. Mariannette Miller-Meeks.
Ben-Ami said J Street targeted those particular candidates in part because they each face competitive races as the Democrats look to take control of the House and Senate and they have ideological distance from J Street. Many of them were also connected to the movement to deny and overturn the 2020 election results, Ben-Ami said.
J Street’s campaign comes as AIPAC’s brand has become increasingly toxic among voters, and as a growing number of Democratic politicians cross its red line of supporting conditions on U.S. military aid to Israel. J Street’s position, meanwhile, has recently drifted toward supporting a phasing-out of military aid to Israel in 2028.
AIPAC blasted the campaign in a post on X. “Is this from J Street or Justice Democrats?” AIPAC wrote, referring to the progressive organization that has increasingly aligned with pro-Palestinian advocacy.
“A dark money super PAC spending millions to defeat pro-Israel candidates and lie about AIPAC,” the group wrote. “Not a word about helping elect pro-Israel candidates further exposes the difference between J Street and actual pro-Israel organizations.”
AIPAC has been a heavy spender since it launched its super PAC, United Democracy Project, ahead of the 2022 midterms, and is the top outside spender in this election cycle, according to Open Secrets. A number of anti-AIPAC, pro-Palestinian groups have emerged over the past year to counter the pro-Israel lobbying group’s spending.
Unlike those groups, J Street and AIPAC have some overlap in which candidates they back: Both groups endorsed moderate, pro-Israel Democrats such as Reps. Hakeem Jeffries and Dan Goldman. J Street’s super PAC has also previously targeted individual candidates for their AIPAC endorsement, such as Rep. Haley Stevens in 2022, citing AIPAC’s donations from right-wing megadonors.
An AIPAC spokesperson wrote that it is “disappointing, but not surprising, that J Street continues to amplify lies about our community.”
“AIPAC members are focused on helping elect Democrats and Republicans who will strengthen the U.S.-Israel partnership, while J Street is focused on turning support for the Jewish state into a partisan political football,” said AIPAC’s spokesperson.
Ben-Ami said this year’s campaign is not about “the relationship between us and AIPAC,” but is rather about emboldening candidates who may otherwise worry that they will be up against AIPAC’s war chest.
“We are very conscious that there are many candidates who are afraid of what AIPAC might be able to do politically, and therefore adopt positions and say things about policy because they are afraid, and their fear and intimidation is holding them back,” Ben-Ami said.
Now, he said, J Street is putting “the shoe on the other foot.”
“If you are going to oppose American democracy and provide carte blanche to this Israeli government, then you need to be afraid,” he said.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post J Street goes on the offensive against AIPAC-backed candidates appeared first on The Forward.

