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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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The Pakistan-Turkey Axis: A New and Dangerous Threat to Israel
Turkish President Tayyip Erdogan attends a press conference with German Chancellor Friedrich Merz at the Presidential Palace in Ankara, Turkey, Oct. 30, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Umit Bektas
While the world’s cameras were fixed on the smoldering borders of the Levant and the political maneuverings in Tehran, a geopolitical earthquake occurred in Islamabad. It was quiet, bureaucratic, and largely ignored by the mainstream media.
While the Israeli security establishment has been justifiably fixated on the Iranian “Ring of Fire” — a new, potentially deadlier axis has solidified.
The signing of a comprehensive hydrocarbon exploration agreement between the Turkish Petroleum Corporation (TPAO) and the Pakistani government was framed as a routine economic partnership — a lifeline for Pakistan’s failing energy grid and a boon for Turkey’s industrial ambition.
This protocol marks the operational fusion of Turkey — a NATO member increasingly hostile to the West — and Pakistan, a volatile, nuclear-armed state. This alliance marries Neo-Ottoman expansionism with the “Islamic Bomb,” creating a pincer movement that threatens to encircle the Jewish State from the Mediterranean to the Indian Ocean.
The Maritime Siege
To understand the gravity of this pact, one must look beyond the gas drills. Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan has long championed the “Blue Homeland” (Mavi Vatan) doctrine, seeking to project Turkish naval power far beyond the Aegean. This agreement grants Turkey exclusive rights to operate within Pakistan’s maritime economic zone.
In strategic terms, this hands the Turkish Navy a forward operating base in the Indian Ocean. For the first time, a hostile power sits at the eastern gateway to the Red Sea. Israel’s economy relies on freedom of navigation; 90% of its trade travels by sea. By planting its flag off the coast of Karachi, Ankara has effectively placed a chokehold on the eastern approaches to Eilat. Turkey now controls the entrance to Israel’s trade routes in the Mediterranean, and stands ready to interdict them in the Indian Ocean.
Outsourcing the Bomb
However, the most chilling aspect of this rapprochement is the one hidden in the fine print. Pakistan is a nuclear power teetering on the brink of economic collapse, desperate for hard currency. Turkey is a rising military power with cash to spend and a leader who has openly lamented his lack of nuclear missiles.
Erdoğan has never been shy about his nuclear ambitions, famously asking his party members why Israel should possess “atomic freedom” while Turkey is shackled by non-proliferation treaties. The Turkey-Pakistan axis solves this problem without a single centrifuge spinning in Anatolia.
The deal involves massive transfers of Turkish capital to Islamabad. It is dangerously naive to believe this is merely for natural gas. The “Pakistan Model” of proliferation — perfected by the A.Q. Khan network — is effectively open for business. The fear is that we are witnessing a “stationing” arrangement: Turkish funding in exchange for a nuclear umbrella, or worse, the transfer of tactical nuclear technology. This creates a “Sunni Nuclear Power” to rival the Shiite threat from Iran, leaving Israel caught between two atomic fires.
A NATO Trojan Horse
Perhaps the most infuriating element of this developing crisis is the silence from the West. Washington and Brussels, desperate to keep Turkey within the NATO fold, have turned a blind eye to Ankara’s pivot East. They continue to treat Erdoğan as a prodigal son who will eventually return to the Western family, rather than an independent actor building a rival power bloc.
This silence is dangerous. The integration of Turkish drone technology — specifically the TB3 and Anka platforms — with Pakistani military assets has created a feedback loop of combat data that bypasses NATO oversight. Pakistan tests these weapons in high-intensity border conflicts; Turkey refines the software and tactics for potential use in the Mediterranean. When the next conflict erupts, the IDF may not just face Hamas rockets or Hezbollah missiles, but a synchronized adversary equipped with NATO-standard avionics and South Asian nuclear delivery systems.
The Illusion of Safety
We have spent decades worrying about the threat from the Shia Crescent. We have ignored the consolidation of a radical Sunni axis that rejects the Western order and views Zionism as its primary ideological foe.
Both Ankara and Islamabad have spent 2025 vying for the title of “Defender of Al Quds.” This energy deal gives them the independent infrastructure to act on that rhetoric. They no longer need American permission, American fuel, or American weapons. And that is dangerous.
Amine Ayoub, a fellow at the Middle East Forum, is a policy analyst and writer based in Morocco. Follow him on X: @amineayoubx
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As Australian Jews call for action on antisemitism, prime minister unveils moves to curb hate speech
(JTA) — Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese has announced a slew of changes meant to curb antisemitism, including a crackdown on hate speech by extremist clerics.
The announcement comes four days after two gunmen killed 15 people at a Hanukkah celebration on Bondi Beach in Sydney. Many Australian Jews said they had feared such an attack after years of surging antisemitism and what they said had been an inadequate government response.
Albanese acknowledged the criticism during an address in Canberra, Australia’s capital.
“More could have been done, and I accept my responsibility for the part in that as prime minister of Australia, but what I also do is accept my responsibility to lead the nation, and unite the nation,” he said.
“Anyone in this position would regret not doing more, and any inadequacies which are there,” Albanese added. “But what we need to do is to move forward.”
The new policies would heighten penalties for speech that incites violence, including online; increase the government’s latitude to block or rescind visas for those who spread hate; and penalize organizations whose leaders engage in hate speech.
As is the case in England, where two of the largest police forces announced on Wednesday that they would begin arresting people who use protest slogans seen by many as antisemitic, Australian authorities said they aimed to tip the scales against the kinds of speech that had long been treated as just shy of criminal.
“There have been organizations which any Australian would look at and say their behavior, their philosophy and what they are trying to do is about division and has no place in Australia,” Home Affairs Minister Tony Burke told reporters at Albanese’s press conference. “And yet for a generation, no government has been able to successfully take action against them because they have fallen just below the legal threshold.”
Albanese also pledged to enact a 13-point plan that his antisemitism envoy proposed earlier this year and announced a task force to ensure that Australian schools respond adequately to antisemitism. The moves follow a pledge made in the immediate aftermath of the Bondi Beach attack to tighten access to guns, which one of the alleged attackers had obtained legally.
Albanese’s announcement comes as Sydney is in the midst of days of funerals for the victims, who included rabbis, a Holocaust survivor and a 10-year-old girl. While some local officials have attended the funerals, he has drawn criticism for staying away. Burke was heckled when he visited a vigil at Bondi Beach, with some in attendance shouting, “Blood on your hands!”
Prior to the shooting, Australian Jews were distressed by a string of arson and vandalism attacks on Jewish sites, as well as rhetoric in pro-Palestinian demonstrations seen as stoking antisemitic violence. Officials attributed some of the most searing attacks to criminals working indirectly on behalf of Iran, and Albanese ejected the Iranian ambassador in retaliation earlier this year.
Now, Albanese’s new moves have drawn criticism and concern from some on the left, including a progressive Jewish group, about their implications for free speech. But the main body representing Australian Jews, which on Sunday called for “decisive leadership and action now,” said it wanted more.
The Executive Council of Australian Jewry said in a statement that it would reserve a fuller judgment until after the funerals were over and more information was available but indicated that it was not satisfied. Albanese said it could take months to draft legislation to match his commitments.
“We will need to see the details before making an assessment as to whether the measures are likely to live up to their billing,” the council said. “This suite of measures can only be regarded as a first step, but it is an essential one.”
The post As Australian Jews call for action on antisemitism, prime minister unveils moves to curb hate speech appeared first on The Forward.
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I’m a 25-year-old semi-Zionist. Here’s what that means this Hanukkah.
I do not look Jewish. I do not wear a kippah. I wasn’t even truly connected to this identity until after Oct. 7. This isn’t to say I never felt Jewish; when I was a kid, I used to light LED Hanukkah “candles” with my father while giving my grandfather a “Chag Sameach” phone call. I used to hope for chocolate coins and Hot Wheels cars for my ever-growing collection. As an adult I have a much different hope. I hope for peace, for all Jews, everywhere.
When I was a child, I treated the existence of our homeland as a constant, something unshakeable, “There’s a Jewish homeland just like there’s a homeland for everyone else, just like there are Jews everywhere,” I thought. But since Oct. 7, I’ve realized just how fragile our existence is. I understand the concerns with Israel; I firmly believe that Benjamin Netanyahu and Itamar Ben-Gvir committed a genocide in our name and used our trauma to justify it. But I don’t think dismantling the country is a way to solve the problem.
This is why I describe myself as a “semi-Zionist.”
I believe that Jews have a claim to the land of Israel, that it is our ancestral homeland, and that yes, Jews were always in the region and had been in the region prior to 1917. I believe that we still have a right to Israel now, and that we always will.
Here’s why I’m “semi.” As a child I was taught that the ideal Jewish values are resilience, peace, and rationality. There is nothing resilient about denying food to starving people. There was nothing peaceful about laying waste to most of Gaza, and the acts of settler violence in the West Bank. And there is nothing rational about using the memory of a truly horrific atrocity to justify a campaign of hatred and fear. The very ideals of Zionism have been twisted by despicable people to turn from resilience to conquest.
It would be easy to blame antisemitism, including the terrorist attack at a Hanukkah celebration in Australia, on the actions of the Israeli government and their atrocities. What’s harder is thinking deeply and honestly about our own prejudices, who we blame, and what we do with our hate.
My hope for this Hanukkah is peace for everyone, everywhere, all Jews, and all people regardless of their faith. I hope for a time when the candles lit on Hanukkah are for celebration and not for mourning a senseless tragedy. I hope for a time when we can share our homeland with Palestinians instead of murdering them, because it is their homeland too. I hope for a time when Jews across the world can live freely without being persecuted for our beliefs or murdered just for existing.
But most of all, I hope for more Jews to have quiet Hanukkah nights like the ones I had, with fathers laughing about jokes their sons don’t understand, children pretending to like the taste of kugel, and lights that guide us toward a safe future.
The post I’m a 25-year-old semi-Zionist. Here’s what that means this Hanukkah. appeared first on The Forward.