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Humans of Heller High: What nine teens learned on an immersive program in Israel
This article was produced as part of JTA’s Teen Journalism Fellowship, a program that works with teens across the world to report on issues that impact their lives.
(JTA) — After nearly two years of hybrid learning at school, some students couldn’t wait to get back in the classroom full-time. For some teens that meant flying thousands of miles to attend the immersive program at Heller High School in Israel in the Fall of 2022.
This fall, 18 students left home to experience life as students in Israel. Living together, taking classes as a group, and going on field trips with each other, students have to learn how to experience life on their own away from home in addition to a general studies class load that includes Jewish history and Hebrew.
Heller was created to give “Reform youth an opportunity to strengthen through learning and experience, their connection to Judaism, the Jewish people, and the Jewish state,” said David Solomon, associate principal. The curriculum focuses on field trips and immersion learning. Heller High takes place in Israel. The fall semester lasts from August through December and the spring semester lasts from January through May. Students that are Sophomores, Juniors, and Seniors can attend Heller and can stay from a semester up to a year.
In this photo gallery, students talk about their experiences and struggles with the program along with how they are coping with the changes around them.
Changing it up
Flora Pelton, left, 15, 10th grade, from Falls Church, Virginia. (Courtesy of Flora Pelton)
“Before this semester, everything in my life was very familiar; I had lived in the same house, gone to the same schools, and been a member of the same congregation my whole life. Israel was a way for me to get new experiences outside of a small-town American lifestyle. I have become friends with so many new people from different places around the world. I enjoy being able to go to school but still go on so many trips and adventures. I learned how to be independent, take care of myself, and get to know people I have never met before. We were all kind of thrown into this experience and so we had to learn how to do all of these things on our own. It has opened my mind to knowing that I will have to do things like this in the future. It has moved me because I know that I can do so much more than I thought I could. Being in Israel will change who I am now because I have learned to be more aware of others. We have to be with each other at all times and so respecting and learning others’ needs is super important. For example, if my roommate wants to go to bed, I have to be quiet or find somewhere else. I have enjoyed swimming in Sachne [a nature spot in the lower Galilee] the most. It was during a full day field trip and we got to swim as it is the last time we can swim until summer. We all jumped in and were terrified of the fish in the water. The experiences have brought me closer to everyone around me.” — Flora Pelton
Connected
Eitan Hefer, 15, 10th grade, in Hudsonville, Michigan. (Courtesy of Eitan Heffer)
“I love being able to have fun with Jews my age. I am able to surround myself with people that have similar interests and ideas as me. I feel more connected and comfortable with these people than with most of my friends at home because you are with the people here all day, everyday. I will be a lot more mature and be able to focus and do my homework without being asked [when I return home]. I will also be able to advocate for myself a lot more. I have a lot more fun here versus school at home because I can have more one-on-one with my roommates. Being in Heller High has taught me to manage my time and know when I need to focus on myself versus the people around me. This experience has changed my outlook on life because it has taught me to make the most of each moment. ” — Eitan Hefer
New View
Lena Schapiro, 16, 11th grade, from Rancho Cucamonga, California. (Zoe Klevens)
“I heard about Heller High from a friend. My parents thought it would be a great opportunity, and we didn’t know anyone that had studied abroad as a high school student. I decided to do it because, at home, I wasn’t feeling very Jewish. My school has no Jews. I was looking for a connection to other Jews and my Jewish identity in Israel. I expected to observe Judaism more often here and it is true compared to my life at home. An experience I’ll remember most was we went into the caves at Bar Kochva and sang the Shema and extended every word. It was so spiritual, and it felt so good at that moment. It felt like I was ascending with the echoing voices. We were all in harmony both out loud, but also in our souls. This experience has given me a whole new mindset about the world. I feel more responsibility through community service, engaging with Israelis that I have never met, and being away from home. Now that I have been able to surround myself with other Jews, I can feel confident in my Jewish identity when returning home. It opened my eyes, like when we learned to clean out plates with dirt. It opened my mind up to the fact that you can clean something dirty with something even dirtier. It was something I would never have believed worked, but although it seems absurd, it was so effective. It’s taking something you’d never believed and turned it into something so easy. I can apply this to my Jewish life at home by trying new things that might seem weird to others.” — Lena Schapiro
Reminded of home
Adina Golbus, 17, 11th grade, from San Rafael, California. (Zoe Klevens)
“Raticus is this toy rat; he’s not quite a stuffed animal, but he looks realistic and special to me. It was this joke between my friends and me back home, and I ended up bringing it with me. I created this Instagram account called raticus.inisrael. On my first day in the airport, I knew these kids in the airport were going to think I was the weirdest person in the world or have similar humor. It made my heart happy when everyone thought it was super funny. Now wherever we go, I try to bring Raticus to all the significant places we go. He has become a mascot for our group. He has become a special thing. I share them with my parents. Masada was a challenging mountain to climb, and having Raticus there made it easier, knowing I could take him to the top and get sunset pictures. He helped to change the mood.” — Adina Golbus
Together
Sylvia Kassoff, 16, 11th grade, from Jackson, Mississippi. (Zoe Klevens)
“After going to Israel with NFTY this summer, I knew I wanted to return. I was unhappy with my home school because I felt as though I wasn’t getting a very good education. My friend from home had told me that ‘being around other Jewish people was good for me.’ That really stuck with me and made me want to come to Israel again. The cultural shift from Jackson, Mississippi to Israel is definitely large. At home, there is a lot of Southern hospitality where everyone is kind to everyone. Here, people are kind, but it is definitely different because people display their kindness differently. A lot of the time people don’t really smile on the street that much, but many give to charity and in general people are a lot more willing to be socially active here versus at home.
“My happiest moment here was when we went to the Mediterranean sea and hung out on a rock. It was directly after we finished Yam le Yam (Sea to Sea) where we hiked from the Kinneret to the Mediterranean sea. Everyone was exhausted and we got to unwind and be together. I realized that these are the people I am going to be spending four months of my life with and I really appreciated that. While the school day is a lot longer, the breaks in between learning are helpful. The content is much more interesting and easier to follow. I have learned that I want to find a community and find people that make me feel comfortable. In Israel, I have made my own community of so many other Jewish teens. I am a little worried to go back to Jackson because I know it will be a huge adjustment. I have to go back to school less than a week after I get home from Israel. I think once I get back I will notice a big difference between my friends and me. I am excited to see what the world has to offer when I arrive back home.” — Sylvia Kassoff
Full of possibilities
Anna von Thomsen, bottom left, 16, 11th grade, from Schwerin, Germany. (Courtesy of Anna von Thomsen)
“The bus ride from the airport to Heller High felt like it was so full of possibilities. I didn’t know anyone and was like this is the start. The class sizes are either one-on-one or much smaller than my class sizes at home. It’s different from having a teacher that cares about what I learn. Since I am not American, I have had difficulty socially adapting, but I am working on that. The cultural difference between German and American teens makes it difficult. Trends and humor are both incredibly different. Sarcasm is more subtle in the United States and I have found that a lot of American trends reach Germany a lot later. Germans are generally a lot more blunt whereas Americans tend to dance around subjects. I have adapted by letting my peers shape me and teach me what they find funny. I haven’t stopped believing what I believed before I came here, but I have definitely catered to other people.” — Anna von Thomsen
Connected
Kami Rosenblatt, 16, 11th grade, from Danville, California. (Zoe Klevens)
“The best advice I was given before coming here is that nothing is permanent. I’m trying to make the most of it and live in the moment. I was expecting to be homesick, [but] I was shocked at how comfortable I was by day two. I’ve never been happier. We never really know how our day is going to turn out. It can go from being an 11-hour school day to having some of my favorite memories during or right after school. I also love Israeli dancing. When I am dancing, I feel energized and a kind of kehila (community) that you can not feel anywhere else. During Simchat Torah, we unraveled the Torah and saw the whole thing. We celebrated and danced around it with people we never met before; that was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. At home, I only go to school from 8:30 a.m. until 1pm. Here, we go to school from 8 a.m. until 7 p.m. It’s draining and long. However, learning Hebrew and the Jewish history class about Israel, the land, the people, the culture, and then just Judaism – the classes are so important to be learning here. It’s immersing us into the culture even more, and it’s the kind of education I would never receive in my life again. My greatest challenge has been learning to adapt to not enough sleep and going all day long without any breaks or stops. I’ve learned not to care about the things I used to care about. I am a lot less uptight.” — Kami Rosenblatt
Tradition
Talia Rapaport, top, 17, 12th grade, from Raleigh, North Carolina. (Courtesy of Talia Rapaport)
“Last year, I attended Alexander Muss High School for a semester. My dad and all of his family had done it. I realized how much Israel means to me and knew I wanted to return to my senior year. I wanted to learn more about the history of Israel, so I could go back and share it with my community. My happiest moment at Heller High was when we made it to the top of Masada and hung an Israel flag together. It was blowing in the wind, and I felt like we had all made it. When we screamed into the mountains ‘Am Yisrael Chai,’ and it screamed back at us, it showed all of the generations and what we are continuing. This gave me a sense of Israeli pride and what we get to be a part of daily. Living on my own here has made me a lot more independent. It is great college prep. I’ve had to start making my own life decisions like choosing when to do my homework or when I want to eat out versus staying in. It is now up to me how I want to practice Shabbat. In Israel, I am trying to stay off my phone on shabbat. At home, I attend Orthodox school; I learn all the religious aspects of being Jewish, the Talmud and Chumash [the Hebrew Bible], and not the history. The hardest thing for me has been learning about reform Judaism; it’s been eye-opening. It has given me a new perspective on what the prayers mean to different people. I learned so many different tunes and melodies to songs along with saying things in English instead of Hebrew. It gives everyone the ability to learn what we are praying about.I never had any background in that. But, I’ve adapted to it and overtime I started doing the reform prayers, instead of how I learned. Everyone has done a good job of including me in services.” — Talia Rapaport
Learning balance
Noa Maccabee, left, 14, 10th grade, from Hood River, Oregon. (Courtesy of Noa Macabee)
“I grew up in a non-Jewish community and struggled with my Jewish identity. Growing up in a small community with no Jews, I didn’t really know how to be Jewish. Being Jewish to me before didn’t really mean anything, but now I know more about the world and the people around me. I have learned more about my religion and others. Now, being Jewish means being me and not having to hide it. I was looking to explore Israeli culture and thought Heller High would help me. I’ve learned to enjoy every moment and take school more seriously. Hiking Sea to Sea with some of my closest friends and being outdoors was amazing. It pushed us because we were tired and exhausted, but we kept going. We discovered a stream after hiking six miles. We were all super hot and sweaty and arrived in this secluded area for lunch. My friend Kami and I decided to go for a brief swim. At that moment, I realized how close I was to nature, and the deep connection I have made with friends is the strongest I have ever had. Being here has taken time to get used to. Balancing school, friends, and living with people all the time – the social aspect can be difficult because of lack of alone time. It was surprising how short of a time this place took to feel like home. This experience has made me a more open person. I have a much better understanding of how the world functions and lives because I have the ability to see how Jews live when they are surrounded by thousands of other Jews.” — Noa Maccabee
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The post Humans of Heller High: What nine teens learned on an immersive program in Israel appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Planned auction of a Holocaust-era Torah fragment sparked outcry, then intervention
(JTA) — A Torah scroll fragment believed to have been used as parcel paper by Nazi SS soldiers is expected to be donated to a US Holocaust remembrance organization after a Norwegian auction house listed it for sale last week, sparking an outcry.
A spokesperson for Israel’s Foreign Ministry told JTA that Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar had directed the ministry and Israel’s embassy in Norway to intervene to prevent the sale of “a sacred manuscript looted by the Nazis.”
“Thanks to the embassy’s efforts, the auction was canceled and the parchment will be donated to a Holocaust remembrance organization in the United States,” the spokesperson said.
The Torah fragment is expected to go to Remember Us The Holocaust (RUTH), a San Diego Holocaust remembrance organization working to establish a permanent museum. In a statement sent to JTA, RUTH said it had worked over 48 hours to “secure the fragment for preservation” and Holocaust education.
The organization also enlisted Adolfo Roitman, the former curator of the Dead Sea Scrolls and head of the Shrine of the Book at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem, to advise on its “appropriate treatment and respectful exhibition,” the statement said.
Moisés Salinas Fleitman, RUTH’s executive director, told JTA that the donation had been confirmed by email last Tuesday but had not yet been finalized. He said there was “no expert confirmation as of yet of the provenance of the scroll,” and that the consignor had told RUTH the parchment was “found on a public market in Poland” over three decades ago. RUTH had not yet inspected the fragment or any evidence supporting that account, he added.
Salinas Fleitman said his understanding was that the fragment had been withdrawn from the auction, but RUTH could not confirm what had happened amid conflicting news reports. The organization also declined to identify the person in possession of the fragment, citing its policy of protecting anonymous donors. RUTH’s procedures for verifying authenticity and legitimate provenance take time, the organization said, adding that the organization would not accept the fragment unless both could be established.
The controversy began when the fragment was put up for auction Oct.18 by Oslo-based Valkyrie Historical Auctions, an online auction house specializing in Third Reich memorabilia.
The handwritten calfskin parchment, estimated to fetch between $1,500 and $2,000, was advertised as a “sad and powerful symbol” of the destruction of European Jewish life.
Valkyrie identifies its president as Norbert Podlesny, a historian and author of a trilogy on the Holocaust. The auction house says its items are examined by experts and carry a lifetime guarantee of authenticity. Neither Valkyrie nor Podlesny responded to repeated inquiries from JTA.
The auction house’s original listing explicitly described it as having been plundered by SS soldiers during the Holocaust, an account its representative subsequently disputed in comments to a Norwegian newspaper. The parchment was also described as having been used to wrap a package sent to Germany.
The Valkyrie website recorded a winning bid of $8,500 on the Torah fragment, more than four times the upper estimate for the parchment.
Video footage of the live auction reviewed by JTA shows bidding on the fragment proceeding, with offers rising incrementally. The footage does not establish who placed the bids or whether a transaction was ultimately completed.
Conflicting accounts have left it unclear whether the fragment was formally withdrawn, purchased by the auction house itself or simply withheld from the winning bidder.
Other lots in the same auction included a death certificate for a Polish prisoner at Dachau, a book from the scientific library at Auschwitz, and a dress bearing a yellow Star of David marked “JUIF.”
The controversy went public after the Foreign Ministry condemned the planned sale in a post on X headed “A Nazi celebration in Oslo.”
The ministry also criticized Norway’s proposal to end dedicated funding for school trips to former Nazi concentration camps, with the funding instead transferred to general local government allocations.
“Auctions of sacred texts looted by the Nazis: IN. Visits to extermination camps: OUT,” the ministry wrote.
Gideon Taylor, president of the World Jewish Restitution Organization (WJRO), said that the auction house had taken steps to remove the fragment from public sale but added that those measures “in no way” resolved the issue.
“There are many unanswered questions,” Taylor told JTA.
He urged Valkyrie to identify the seller, explain how the fragment had been acquired, disclose what provenance information accompanied it and undertake further research into its history. He also questioned why the auction house had agreed to sell the parchment despite its original description as Nazi-looted property.
“There is a profound contradiction in recognizing an object as a symbol of the Holocaust while treating it as something to be bought and sold,” he said.
He said the case exposed a “lack of historical awareness” of how the systematic plunder of Jewish property, both private and communal, formed part of the Nazis’ campaign to annihilate European Jewry.
“This is not simply an antique or a historical curiosity. It is a sacred Jewish object that represents a community’s religious life and the devastating destruction of that life during the Holocaust,” he added.
WJRO has called on the Norwegian government to launch an investigation into the auction house’s handling of the fragment, Taylor said, adding that similar questions had arisen concerning other objects previously sold by it.
Taylor also called for “a coordinated international effort” to tackle the trade in sacred Jewish objects looted during the Holocaust and still held by private collectors.
“This is not about private collections, this is about the memory of the Jewish people,” he said.
Norway is among 35 countries that have endorsed the 2024 Best Practices for the Washington Conference Principles on Nazi-Confiscated Art. The nonbinding guidelines cover Holocaust-looted religious and communal property, including sacred scrolls, manuscripts and synagogue objects, and recommend returning objects determined to have belonged to Jewish communities to successor communities or institutions. They do not automatically require restitution of an item offered through a private auction.
The dispute follows other controversies over the sale and ownership of Holocaust-era artifacts. Last November, a German auction house canceled a planned sale of more than 600 concentration camp-related objects, including prisoners’ correspondence, identification documents and a yellow Star of David, following protests from Holocaust survivors and Jewish organizations.
Earlier this year, Poland returned 91 Jewish religious objects to Greece, decades after they were seized by the Nazis from synagogues in Thessaloniki. WJRO helped coordinate their restitution following years of research and negotiations.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Planned auction of a Holocaust-era Torah fragment sparked outcry, then intervention appeared first on The Forward.
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People accusing El-Sayed of Muslim Brotherhood ties will accuse Jews of dual loyalty too
Abdul El-Sayed, Democratic candidate for Senate in Michigan, has said that he has no ties to, and disavows, the Muslim Brotherhood. It does not matter how many times he is asked about this, or how many times he answers, because there will be those who insist that it is a real concern. Their position relies not on reality, but on a deep-rooted idea Jews should recognize: that people who are “other” hold dual loyalties, and that those dual loyalties are a danger to America.
El-Sayed has had ample reason and opportunity to assert his distance from the group, as he has been asked about it over and over again. (The connection to the Muslim Brotherhood specifically seems to be a tweet from El-Sayed’s half-sister saying their mother was once involved with the organization.) He was asked at a town hall earlier this month to disavow the Muslim Brotherhood; he was asked about the Muslim Brotherhood earlier this month on Meet the Press; he was asked about it by Fox News; and he was accused without evidence by his opponent, Republican Mike Rogers, of being “bought” by the Muslim Brotherhood and of being a national security risk in their debate last week. Other Democrats were also asked to weigh in: CNN, for example, asked Sen. Chris Murphy if Democrats were “concerned about this with El-Sayed.”
American Jews should object to this cynical, baseless fearmongering because it is wrong and destructive in and of itself to charge that a person who is Muslim is a threat to national security. American Jews should also recognize it for what it is: a charge of dual loyalty, and one they should speak up against if they do not want similar charges leveled against Jewish politicians. This is true even if they disagree with El-Sayed or do not want to see him win in next week’s midterm elections.
For American Jews, dual loyalty is an old and familiar antisemitic trope. It’s a suspicion and accusation that has followed us around the globe and across decades and says that we can never really be loyal to the country or society in which we find ourselves because we are secretly loyal only to each other or, more recently, to Israel.
American Jews — understandably, given the history of this trope — are attuned to politics that smack of dual loyalty. For example, Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro wrote in his book that, when he was being vetted as a potential running mate for Kamala Harris in the 2024 presidential election, he was asked if he had ever been an Israeli agent and felt that that was inappropriate. In fact, being asked about loyalty to other countries is a regular occurrence in obtaining a security clearance.
Nevertheless, Shapiro’s alertness to it speaks to the sensitivity American Jews, and particularly politicians, feel around being accused of dual loyalty, especially as Israel becomes a “litmus test” in Democratic party politics. For example, was congressional candidate Scott Weiner chased from a rally for trans rights solely because he had declined to say that Israel committed a genocide in Gaza (before he said they did days later), or was it because he’s Jewish?
And this past weekend, a RebellionPac ad in which a couple can’t buy eggs because, they say, the United States sends money to Israel, concludes with “Mike Rogers is for they/them” — cutting to photos of Israeli politicians — “Abdul El-Sayed is for you,” suggesting that being supportive of Israel is at odds with being supportive of Michigan, which some Jews feel creates a permission structure for antisemitism and suspicion toward Jews.
U.S. President Donald Trump, meanwhile, once again put forth his specific version of the dual loyalty trope, in which to be a true American Jew is to vote for him because he supports Israel, by saying American Jews should be “ashamed of themselves” if they voted for El-Sayed.
It is not enough for American Jews to be against dual loyalty when it is leveled against us. We just need to be against it. Because if you do not want it to be acceptable to cast aspersions regarding a candidate’s race, religion, or ethnicity, and if you do not want there to be different, special, higher bars that candidates need to meet because of their culture or where they pray, then you need to be against that for anyone. Otherwise, you’re accepting it for everyone.
I am not equating Israel with the Muslim Brotherhood, nor am I defending the Muslim Brotherhood. What I am saying is this: If you are offended by the idea that Jews need to prove that we are not first and foremost loyal to Israel, or by the notion that Jews should be punished for perceived connections to Israel, then you should also be offended by what politicians and pundits are demanding of El-Sayed. You should do this not only because not doing so is hypocritical (though we, as a nation, seem long past the point of hypocrisy mattering), but because the more comfortable we are having charges of dual loyalty in our politics, the more comfortable we are having charges of dual loyalty in our politics for everyone, including Jewish candidates.
I made a similar point last week on X (formerly Twitter) and was promptly accused of hating myself and Jews, loving the Muslim Brotherhood, and having my priorities wrong. In one response to my post, which read, “You don’t get a more tolerant, accepting, pluralistic, liberal country by accusing people of another religion of inherently hating and being disloyal to it and you, it is simply not going to work,” someone wrote, “I don’t want a more tolerant society you stupid twat, I want my kids to be safe at Jewish day school and I don’t want 24/7 security at shul.”
What I found most fascinating about this person’s reply was the idea that Jewish institutions could be safe in the United States, where we are a small minority, without ours being a tolerant society. That struck me as almost as fanciful as thinking that we could allow charges of dual loyalty for Muslim candidates and then turn around and ask that Jewish candidates not have to face dual loyalty accusations or special extra litmus tests.
Much as a society in which antisemitic conspiracy theories are allowed to flourish is ultimately a more conspiratorial, paranoid, and less trusting place for everyone, a polity where candidates are regularly charged with dual loyalty or disloyalty on the basis of their religion or ethnicity is just that — a political discourse where charges of dual loyalty are leveled against ethnic and religious minorities. We don’t get to choose against whom dual loyalty cards are played. We only get to choose whether we think it’s acceptable to play them at all.
The post People accusing El-Sayed of Muslim Brotherhood ties will accuse Jews of dual loyalty too appeared first on The Forward.
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Eight years after Tree of Life shooting, a Jewish burial society’s ranks have nearly doubled
After preparing five victims of the Tree of Life synagogue massacre for burial, members of Pittsburgh’s New Community Chevra Kadisha stood in a circle and held hands.
They had gathered like this before, taking a moment after their work to process what they had done. This time, they were caring for people murdered in their own community.
Volunteers from outside Pittsburgh had come to help. David Zimmer, a longtime member, remembered one visitor bringing a custom from another chevra kadisha.
“He passed around a piece of chocolate,” Zimmer recalled, “so that there should be something sweet.”
Eight years later, NCCK has nearly doubled in size. Before the attack, it had about 38 members, according to records reviewed by Patricia Cluss, one of its founders. Within four months, 11 people had joined. Today, it has 70.
The growth has brought more volunteers into some of the least visible work in Jewish communal life. A chevra kadisha, traditionally translated as a “holy society,” washes and prepares the dead for burial, dresses them in plain white shrouds and helps ensure they are treated with dignity. The work is considered a chesed shel emet, or true kindness, because the dead cannot repay those who care for them.
For NCCK, the aftermath of the attack also revealed another dimension of that care: The people accustomed to supporting others through loss needed support themselves.
Caring for their own
Pittsburgh’s NCCK was founded in 2004 to encourage greater participation in the Jewish tradition of caring for the dead. An Orthodox chevra kadisha already existed, and NCCK’s founders hoped to involve more Jews in the practice, regardless of their level of religious observance.
Cluss was among them. She had encountered an article about Reform Jews reviving Jewish burial practices that had fallen away in some communities. Until then, she had never heard of a chevra kadisha.
“I gotta do that,” she remembered thinking.
Deane Root joined early, too, drawn by an idea: What if Pittsburgh had a chevra kadisha open to anyone in the Jewish community? Root remembered a small group gathering, often in a member’s living room, to figure out the logistics of working with funeral homes and training volunteers.
Then came Oct. 27, 2018.
Root and his wife, Rabbi Doris Dyen, were approaching the Tree of Life synagogue building that Saturday morning when they heard a series of loud noises. They pulled into the parking lot and saw shattered glass.
Two NCCK members had been inside the synagogue, and the dead and wounded included people its members knew. At the Jewish Community Center of Greater Pittsburgh after the shooting, where families and friends gathered and waited for news, Root recalled that “not everybody knew for sure” what had happened to their loved ones.
When the victims were released for burial, NCCK began the work for which it had trained. Members also kept shmira, remaining with the dead and reciting Psalms until burial.
Allen Baum, who coordinates the NCCK men’s members, remembered that by the end, nearly every man in the group had participated in shifts. After the final tahara, the ritual preparation of a body for Jewish burial, they stood in a large circle, joined by women from NCCK as well.
Later, members gathered in a home, bringing food, reading poems and speaking about the people they had lost.Root was carrying the trauma of what he experienced that morning. He described a “video playing in my head constantly.”
Being together helped. “Let the community carry some of that burden,” Root remembered, “rather than keeping it all inside our own emotions and our own minds.”
A growing circle
Following the attack, younger Jews contacted NCCK after reading about its work. Some described joining as something they felt they needed to do as Jews. Others spoke of it as a form of social action.
Elana Glick, who joined NCCK around 2014 after her grandfather died, remembered that the group sometimes struggled to find enough volunteers before the massacre. Afterward, she said, the work became more public, even as members sought to preserve the privacy of the rituals.
At its annual dinner, Glick has watched the group grow. There have been “more and more tables added year after year because of people who have found this and wanted to be a part of this work,” she said.
“Being part of the chevra is one of the ways I feel most attached to my Judaism,” Glick said.
Sarit Wishnevski, executive director of Kavod v’Nichum, a national organization supporting chevrot kadisha and Jewish burial practices, has watched the movement become increasingly multigenerational. At the organization’s November 2025 gathering in Ojai, California, participants ranged from their 20s to their 80s, with one in their 90s.
The Jewish phrase l’dor v’dor is usually understood as passing something “from generation to generation.” Wishnevski suggested it can also mean practicing a tradition with generations alongside one another.
NCCK has also become a resource for other communities. Wishnevski called it a “really strong model,” citing materials its members have shared and their help with questions ranging from starting a group to making the work more inclusive of gender diversity.
The possibility of mass-casualty events has prompted other questions, too. “How will we be prepared?” Wishnevski said. “How will we show up if God forbid this happens here?”
Kavod v’Nichum is developing an emergency preparedness pilot effort. Wishnevski said the goal is not for a chevra kadisha to respond “in a silo,” but to build relationships with first responders, government agencies and other Jewish organizations.
Earlier this month, three NCCK members traveled to Chicago to teach other volunteers about something none would ever want to need: developing tahara liturgy for young children.
But most of the chevra kadisha’s work remains unseen, and the calls come without warning. “The only predictable thing is the unpredictability,” Baum said.
One summer, the men’s group went 11 weeks without a tahara. More recently, Cluss said, the women’s group performed 11 in two weeks. Sometimes volunteers arrive at a funeral home for one person and are asked whether they can stay for another. In recent years, NCCK has performed roughly 90 taharot annually.
For Cluss, the work had long been meaningful. After Tree of Life, she struggled to explain how that meaning had changed. Her daughter noticed something she hadn’t.
“Mom, do you ever notice when you’re talking about the chevra you always put your hand on your heart?”
Cluss hadn’t noticed.
The post Eight years after Tree of Life shooting, a Jewish burial society’s ranks have nearly doubled appeared first on The Forward.

