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Queer yeshiva to publish first-ever collection of Jewish legal opinions written by and for trans Jews
(JTA) — In the midst of writing a 13-page analysis of a complex area of Jewish law, Rabbi Xava De Cordova found something she wasn’t expecting to see in the medieval-era sources: flexibility.
De Cordova is transgender and had long wondered whether she could feel a sense of belonging while studying reams of rabbinic writings on halacha, or Jewish law, which stretch back thousands of years and often prescribe different practices for men and women.
The laws of ritual purity, for example, prescribe specific behaviors for women on the assumption that they all menstruate. Trans women do not. De Cordova said that gap and others had her thinking, “I don’t really know if I can find a place for myself in this literature.”
But after digging into Jewish texts on the topic, De Cordova realized she’d sold the sages short: Medieval European rabbis were asking many of the same questions she was — and their answers reflected real-world complexity.
“I just found that the rabbis and the early halachic authorities’ understanding of niddah was so much more conceptual and vague and fluctuating than I ever realized before I started this particular work,” De Cordova said, using the Hebrew term for purity laws. Her conclusion: “Wow, there’s so much space for me within this literature.”
De Cordova’s realization is one of many that a dozen Jewish scholars and rabbis have had over the last year as they have scoured Jewish texts for guidance on how transgender Jews can adapt traditional rituals to their lived experience. Now, the group is preparing to release a batch of their essays, analyses of Jewish law called teshuvot, in hopes that they can inform the experiences of trans Jews who seek to live in accordance with traditional Jewish law.
The release of the essays comes at a time when lawmakers in dozens of states are targeting trans people and their rights, in some cases instigating fights that have heavily involved rabbis and their families.
In that climate, writing trans Jews into Jewish tradition “becomes an act of resistance because it’s about celebrating lives that are being demeaned and celebrating people who are being dehumanized in the public sphere,” said Rabbi Becky Silverstein, co-director of the Trans Halakha Project at Svara, the yeshiva founded in Chicago two decades ago to serve the queer community. The dozen rabbis and scholars are based at Svara and collectively form the Teshuva Writing Project.
Among the questions they have tackled: How could a trans man converting to Judaism have a bris, required for male converts? Is the removal of body tissue after gender-affirming surgery a ritual matter, given Jewish legal requirements for burying body parts? And is there a Jewish obligation, in certain cases, to undergo gender transition?
Just how widely their answers will be consumed and taken into account is a question. Most Jews who consciously adhere to halacha throughout their daily lives are Orthodox, and live in communities that either reject trans Jews or are reckoning with whether and how to accept them. Non-Orthodox Jewish denominations have made efforts to embrace trans Jews, but halacha is less often the starting point for most of their members. The Reform movement, the largest in the United States, expressly rejects halacha as binding.
Still, a growing number of Jews and Jewish communities strive to be inclusive while staying rooted in Jewish law and tradition. There are also a growing number of trans Jews who are connected to traditional communities, or who want to live in accordance with Jewish law.
“I think individual trans Jews who are not part of communities could use these teshuvot to guide their own decision-making,” said Silverstein, who was ordained at the pluralistic Hebrew College seminary. “We live in a time of religious autonomy in Jewish life, and where trans Jews actually are hungry for connection to tradition. And so they could use these teshuvot to help inform their own conversations.”
Organizations and initiatives such as the Jewish LGBTQ group Keshet; Torah Queeries, a collection of queer commentaries on the Bible; and TransTorah.org have created rituals, readings, blessings and customs for trans Jews, and Svara runs a Queer Talmud Camp as well as intensive Jewish study programs throughout the year. But until now, no collection of Jewish legal opinions has been published by and for trans people.
“Halacha has to be informed by the real lived experiences of the people about whom it is legislating,” said Laynie Soloman, who helps lead Svara and holds the title of associate rosh yeshiva, in an approach that they said the group had adopted from the disability advocacy community. “That is a fundamental truth about halacha that we are holding as a collective and taking seriously in the way we are authoring these teshuvot.”
The teshuvot will be published later this month, and follow a long tradition of rabbis setting halachic precedent by answering questions from their followers. Those answers are traditionally based on an analysis of rabbinic texts throughout history. They can address questions ranging from whether smoking cigarettes is permissible to the particulars of making a kitchen kosher for Passover.
Some Jewish legal questions tackled by the group at Svara had not previously been answered, such as how to mark conversion for someone who is male but does not have a penis. In other cases, accepted Jewish law pertaining to gender can be painful for those who are nonbinary or trans, either because the answer is not clear or because the law does not match up with contemporary understandings that gender and sex are distinct.
“[Those are] areas where trans people are sort of most likely to either feel lost themselves or be interrogated by their community. … And so they’re sort of these urgent halachic needs,” said De Cordova, who was privately ordained by a rabbi from the Renewal Judaism movement. “And 99.9% of the literature about them so far has been written by cis people, about us.”
De Cordova concluded that trans women are obligated in niddah, the ritual purity laws. In her teshuva, she provides several approaches to emulate the complicated counting cycle that tallies the days a woman is considered ritually impure following menstruation. She suggests using a seven- and 11-day cycle originally proposed by Maimonides, the 12th-century scholar and philosopher. De Cordova also suggests that the imposition of a cycle not based in biology means ancient and medieval rabbis had some understanding of womanhood as a social construct.
“There’s many cases in which the rabbis sort of choose to orient niddah around their understanding of women, which I would call the social construction of womanhood by rabbis, rather than observable physical phenomenon or actual women’s experience,” she said.
For De Cordova, the experience of writing about niddah provided her with new insights about some of the oldest Jewish legal texts on the subject.
“They’re flexible enough and sort of responsive enough that I can really find a lot of freedom and space in working with them,” she said of the ancient sources. “And that was just a really sort of wonderful and freeing transition to go through.”
Last year, the Conservative Movement approved new language for calling up a nonbinary person to various Torah honors. The rabbis behind the opinion consulted with groups serving LGBTQ Jews and synagogues centered on them, but acknowledged that they were imperfect authors.
“When my coauthors and I published the teshuva, we wrote in it that we are all cisgender rabbis and that we hope that, increasingly, halachic work dealing with nonbinary and trans and queer Jewish life and identity and practice will… come from queer rabbis and scholars themselves,” said Guy Austrian, the rabbi of the Fort Tryon Jewish Center, a synagogue in upper Manhattan. “And I think the publication of the first batch of teshuvot from the Trans Halakha Project shows that that process is underway, and I think that that can only be a good thing for the Jewish world.”
Scholars at Svara, the queer yeshiva based in Chicago, have served the Jewish LGBTQ community for two decades and are now creating the first written set of Jewish law by and for trans Jews. (Jess Benjamin)
Adding to the question-and-answer tradition of Jewish legal opinions means trans Jews will now have new texts to guide their religious practice, Silverstein said. Trans Jews, the writers of the opinions acknowledge, already have their own ways of performing Jewish ritual that accords with their lived experience. But they say that when it comes to Jewish law, informal custom without a sourced legal opinion is not enough.
“I want cis[gender] clergy to realize that there are resources written by and for trans people that they can turn to when they’re trying to help a member of their congregation,” De Cordova said.
The authors of the legal opinions applied to be part of the collective and come from a religiously pluralistic group, ranging in affiliation from Orthodox to Conservative to Jewish Renewal. They have varying expectations for how far-reaching the impact of the new legal opinions will be.
Mike Moskowitz, an Orthodox rabbi and the scholar-in-residence for trans and queer Jewish studies at Congregation Beit Simchat Torah, which serves the LGBTQ community, said the teshuvot could provide a model for observant Jews who are also trans.
“I think it’s significant in modeling what an informed conversation can look like, which hasn’t really happened in Orthodox publications,” said Moskowitz, who was not part of the collective that composed the teshuvot on trans Jews’ practice. “I hope this models what can be done in other movements. What’s been tricky is that every movement has a different understanding of what halacha means.”
Even within Orthodoxy, conflicting opinions already exist, in a reflection of how halacha has always operated. For example, Talia Avrahami, a transgender Orthodox woman, follows the opinion of the late Rabbi Eliezer Waldenberg, known as the Tzitz Eliezer, who ruled that a trans woman who undergoes gender affirmation surgery is a woman according to Jewish law. But Avrahami was told she could not sit in the women’s section of her synagogue, because the rabbi who the synagogue follows does not accept Waldenberg’s opinion. Months earlier, Avrahami had also been asked to leave her teaching job at an Orthodox day school after students and parents learned that she was transgender.
Avrahami declined to comment on the new teshuvot, citing restrictions set by her current employer.
Silverstein says some Conservative rabbis have expressed interest in using the opinions to guide practice in their own congregations. But he is less sure if they will be adopted in the Orthodox community, which is the target audience for most traditional literature on Jewish law.
“When it comes to the Orthodox community, I’m not sure I am bold enough to dream that these teshuvot specifically are going to be adopted,” Silverstein said. “I’m not even sure I know what that means. But it is my hope that they will permeate throughout the Jewish community, at least through the Modern Orthodox community.”
The scope of the opinions written by the collective extends beyond the trans community. The first batch of answers, for example, includes an opinion about how to increase physical accessibility to a mikvah, ritual baths used to fulfill some requirements of Jewish law.
“Judaism thrives and Torah thrives when people are bringing their life experiences to the text and asking their questions of the text,” Silverstein said. “That’s how new Torah is uncovered in the world. And that’s how Judaism and Torah has stayed alive through so much of Jewish history.”
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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.”
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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.
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