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Sarajevo Jews celebrate a second Purim. For centuries, they weren’t alone.
(JTA) — Starting tonight, many Jews around the world will celebrate Purim in the same ways: by reading the story of the heroic Queen Esther, dressing in festive costumes and drinking alcohol.
For many of the 900 or so Jews in Bosnia and Herzegovina, it will be the first of two annual Purim celebrations.
Since 1820, locals have also observed the Purim de Saray (Saray being a root of the word Sarajevo) early in the Hebrew calendar month of Cheshvan, which usually falls in October or November of the Gregorian calendar.
In that year, the story goes, a local dervish was murdered, prompting the corrupt Ottoman pasha of Sarajevo, a high-ranking official, to kidnap 11 prominent Jews, including the community’s chief rabbi, a kabbalist named Moshe Danon. The pasha accused them of the murder of the dervish — who had converted from Judaism to Islam — and held them for ransom, demanding 50,000 groschen of silver from the Jewish community.
But the pasha, who was a transplant from elsewhere in the Ottoman empire, deeply offended the multiethnic populace of Sarajevo, who considered the Jewish community — then around one-fifth of the city’s entire population — an essential part of their home. So local Jews, Muslims and Christians rebelled together, storming the pasha’s palace and freeing the imprisoned community leaders.
Ever since, Bosnian Jews have celebrated that story by visiting the grave of the Sarajevan Jewish historian Zeki Effendi, who was the first to document it. Dozens also take part in a pilgrimage every summer to the grave of Rabbi Danon, who is buried in the south of Bosnia, not far from the Croatian border, where he died on his way to what was then Ottoman-controlled Palestine.
For centuries, several other Jewish communities around the world observed their own versions of Purim based on stories of local resistance to antisemitism, inspired by Esther and her uncle Mordecai, who in the original holiday story save all of Persia’s Jews from execution in the 5th century BCE.
Here are the stories behind some of those traditions.
Ancona, Italy
An aerial view of Ancona in 2006. (Wikimedia Commons)
Jews settled in and around Ancona on Italy’s Adriatic coast in the 10th century, and by the 13th century they had established a flourishing community, which included figures such as the Jewish traveler Jacob of Ancona — who may have beaten Marco Polo to China — and famed poet Immanuel the Roman, who despite his title was born in a town just south of Ancona.
Though the city’s Jewish community was largely spared by the Holocaust, it has slowly declined over the years and is believed to have fewer than 100 members today. What it is not short on, however, are local Purim stories — the city is known for multiple celebrations that were established over the centuries.
The first, marked on the 21st of the Hebrew month of Tevet (usually in January) was established at the end of the 17th century and marks an earthquake that nearly destroyed the city.
“On the 21st of Teveth, Friday evening, of the year 5451 (1690), at 8 and a quarter, there was a powerful earthquake. The doors of the temple were immediately opened and in a few moments it was filled with men, women and children, still half-naked and barefoot, who came to pray to the Eternal in front of the Holy Ark. A true miracle then took place in the Temple: there was only one light, which remained lit until it was possible to provide for it,” wrote Venetian Rabbi Yosef Fiammetta in 1741, in his text “Or Boqer,” meaning “the light of the morning.”
Other Ancona Purims were established a half and three-quarters of a century later, respectively. The story for the first commemorates fires that nearly destroyed the local synagogue but miraculously did not, and the next tells of a pogrom that nearly destroyed the community as Napoleon marched through Italy during the French Revolutionary Wars.
Today, these stories have largely faded into memory. But a few centuries ago, Italy had a high concentration of communities that celebrated local Purims — including in Casale Monferrato, Ferrara, Florence, Livorno, Padua, Senigallia, Trieste, Urbino, Verona and Turin — some into the 20th century.
“It would be hoped that the local Purims are not forgotten or that they are restored in the communities that have not completely died out,” the late Italian Rabbi Yehuda Nello Pavoncello once wrote, according to the Turin Jewish Community, “so that the memory of the events reconnects us to the infinite links of the chain of the generations that have preceded us, who have suffered.”
North Africa
An illustration shows King Sebastian of Portugal being fatally wounded at a battle in Morocco in 1578. (Bettmann/Getty Images)
The extra Purim phenomenon was not confined to Europe.
In Tripoli, Libya, local Jews established the so-called Purim Barghul after the deposition of a local tyrant in the late 18th century. Ali Burghul, an Ottoman officer who was installed after the downfall of the Qaramanli dynasty, ruled the region brutally for two years, treating minorities particularly harshly. After factions of the Qaramanlis were reconciled, Burghul was driven out. Jews would go on to celebrate that day, the 29th of Tevet (usually in January).
(Centuries later, in 1970, dictator Muammar Gaddafi established his own holiday, the Day of Revenge, which celebrated the expulsion of Italian officials from Libya; some say it also celebrated the exodus of Jews since the formation of the state of Israel. Within a few years after Gaddafi’s decree, Libya’s Jewish community had dwindled to less than two dozen, effectively ending the nearly 3,000-year history of Jews there.)
In northern Morocco, Jews commemorated the defeat of a Portuguese king, Don Sebastian, who attempted to take over parts of the country but was defeated in a battle in August 1578. Jews had believed that Sebastian would have tried to convert them to Christianity if he had prevailed.
Today only around 2,000 Jews remain in Morocco, but some Moroccan communities marked the day into the 21st century.
Saragossa
A view of an 11th-century palace in Zaragoza, Spain. The Purim of Saragossa story is set in either Zaragoza or Syracuse, Italy. (Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
Scholars still debate which city was the origin of the Purim of Saragossa story — it could have been Zaragoza in Spain or Syracuse in southern Sicily, which was often referred to in the medieval era as Siragusa. Both cities were part of the Spanish empire in 1492 and were depopulated of Jews following the Inquisition.
Either way, Sephardic descendants in places around the world, including Israel and the Turkish city of Izmir, observed their own Purim story by fasting on the 16th of the Hebrew month of Shevat — generally in February — and feasting on the 17th.
The story tells of an apostate named Marcus who slandered the Jewish community to a non-Jewish king, putting their status in jeopardy. But at the last minute, Marcus’ deception is revealed, and he is executed while the community is saved.
The story could have been entirely fabricated. According to Jewish historian Elliot Horowitz, the establishment of this second Purim story may have been a way for the descendants of Saragossan Jews, whether they are originally Spanish or Sicilian, to maintain a unique identity in the larger Sephardic diaspora.
“The Jewish communities of the eastern Mediterranean in the early modern period were often composed of émigré subcommunities, each of which was distinguished by the customs and liturgy of its place of origin,” he wrote in his 2006 book “Reckless Rites: Purim and the Legacy of Jewish Violence.” “The ‘Purim of Saragossa,’ the earliest manuscript evidence for which dates only from the mid-eighteenth century, may well have been ‘invented’ by former ‘Saragossans’ eager to maintain their distinct identity in the multicultural Sephardi Diaspora of the eastern Mediterranean.”
Regardless of its origins, the Megillah of Saragossa text continued to be published through at least the end of the 19th century. It was well known enough that an American Reform rabbi from New York would publish a stage play based off of it in the 1940s.
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The Hardest Thing in Philanthropy Is Saying ‘No’
An aerial view of the Temple Mount in the Old City of Jerusalem. Photo: Wikimedia Commons.
When people ask what the hardest thing about working in philanthropy is, they expect to hear about challenges related to raising money or dealing with difficult donors or recipients in various situations.
In actuality, the answer is significantly more painful: The hardest thing in philanthropy is saying “no.”
We know when there is money available and when there isn’t. At the end of the day, someone needs to make decisions.
I recently looked into the origin of the word philanthropy. The word is derived from an ancient Greek word “philos,” which refers to love, and “anthropos,” which refers to people. Basically, philanthropy literally translates to the love of humanity.
Note that there is no mention of money or donations in this definition. This shows something profound: the basic necessity of philanthropy is having a genuine desire to help other people. Money is simply a tool.
Imagine two cases that come up on the same day: One person needs an urgent financial grant for food. The second person requests support for studies that will allow him to earn a decent living and become independent, helping him stand on his own two feet. The budget is only able to help one of them. Which would you choose?
What needs to be considered: Is it better to give someone a fish, or teach them how to fish? I believe that it’s better to invest in someone who will be able to stand on their own two feet tomorrow and potentially even help others in the future. True, we have to say “no” to someone else, but that’s part of the decision.
I’ve been working in fundraising for more than 40 years in the United States, Canada, and Israel. The money we transfer is not ours — it’s the money of other people who have trusted us. We are the faithful messengers, which means we must ask: What will the effects of this money be?
It’s also a matter of professional responsibility. Every dollar is scrutinized — is the organization legitimate? Does it comply with tax laws on both sides? Just a month ago, I had to explain to a donor that donations to military causes do not meet the definition of charity under US tax law. That’s the kind of guidance an intermediary organization should give — even when it means saying “no.”
At our foundation, we work as a bridge between donors in North America and nonprofits in Israel. A donor in Toronto or New York wants to help in Israel, but they need someone on the ground to check and verify their potential projects. True philanthropy begins with loving people, but continues with the understanding that you can’t help everyone. And when the moment comes to say “no” — and it always will — you have to remember that it’s part of the mission. Because if we say “yes” to everyone, it would prevent us from helping anyone.
Chaim Katz is the founder and CEO of the Ne’eman Foundation, which helps Israeli non-profits receive donations from North America.
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UC San Diego ‘Guardian’ Journalist Unfairly Attacks Study Abroad Program in Israel
The San Diego skyline. Photo: Wikimedia Commons
Following the announcement of the UC San Diego study abroad program in Israel and Jordan this winter, some students — including UCSD Guardian senior staff writer Jaechan Preston Lee — expressed outrage at the Anthropology department’s decision to host the trip.
The critical article that Lee published in the university paper last month parades misinformation as truth, and exacerbates the already fragile climate on campus.
His article conveys Israel as a militaristic, vengeful, malevolent, and hateful state. And his argument promotes exclusion and discourages students from gaining a comprehensive understanding of perspectives they may not agree with.
Accepting Lee’s call to cancel the trip would undermine our school’s commitment to academic freedom, further demonize pro-Israel and Jewish community members, and allow his deeply distorted worldview to continue bullying its way into wider acceptance.
On Oct. 5, the UCSD Anthropology Department sent an email to all undergraduate students offering the opportunity to learn about the region’s “ancient and recent past” by “meeting people of very different religious and ethnic backgrounds.”
Two weeks later, Lee argued that the trip is “unethical and reckless” because it is “a form of American and Israeli soft power influence on the West’s perception of land rights and indigeneity in the Middle East.” He justifies his position in a number of ways, all of which collapse under even modest scrutiny.
First, it’s important to address his false claims. The characterization of Israel as an “apartheid state” and the current conflict with the Palestinians as a “genocide” are easily disproven.
Palestinian Arab citizens of Israel enjoy full and equal rights. They serve in every single level of society — from the Supreme Court and Knesset to all levels of civil life — and policies regarding the disputed territories are either temporary or a response to constant terror threats.
The genocide accusation is equally false. First, there was no intention to commit genocide — which is legally and morally required for the term to ever apply. Israel was fighting a war of self defense after the Oct. 7 massacre. Second, any arguments about population decline in Gaza cannot be proven — because the death tolls released by the Hamas-run Gaza Health Ministry have been falsified and also debunked.
The genocide accusation is also a complete insult to populations that have undergone an actual genocide — since no “genocide” in history has included protective actions such as leaflet distribution to encourage evacuation, nor has it ended immediately after hostages were released. Israel had the fire power to kill hundreds of thousands, if not a million Gazans. If genocide were Israel’s true aim, why were none of these capabilities ever used?
What’s more, all of the sources that Lee offers have faced widespread criticism for being incredibly dishonest and systemically biased against Israel for decades.
The UN report Lee hyperlinks was co-written by a rapporteur who is so antisemitic that she is being sanctioned by the US government. Lee also cites Hamas-allied Qatari state media Al Jazeera to suggest that Israel attacked its neighboring countries unprovoked, without mention of Hezbollah in Lebanon, the Houthis in Yemen, or jihadist activity in Syria.
Lee’s work follows a pattern in biased discourse where the lie of Israel’s unique evil is repeated until nobody questions if it’s true. Regardless of intent, Lee has become a mouthpiece for the propaganda that he claims to oppose.
One revealing argument targets Israel’s archaeological work, which Lee portrays as a means for the state to exert control over disputed land. By acknowledging Jewish artifacts beneath the soil, he implicitly affirms the deep historical Jewish roots in the region, yet dismisses that history as irrelevant to Jewish claims to the land. He also overlooks concerns that, under full Palestinian control, many of these sites and artifacts would risk neglect or destruction. The very existence of this debate underscores the importance of students seeing Israel’s archaeological realities firsthand.
Lee also fails to mention that the trip will include excursions in Jordan. The program is clearly designed to provide a balanced regional perspective rather than promote any single narrative.
At its core, the article is an excuse to attack Israel and isolate Zionist students. To deprive students of the opportunity to visit Israel is to attack our community’s freedom of choice and academic strength.
If the mere exposure to opposing perspectives derails your cause, perhaps it isn’t an honest one.
The campus culture at UCSD has been divisive and exclusionary towards Jews and Israelis since Oct. 7, 2023. Harmful narratives shut out anyone whose experiences do not align, and Lee’s piece will likely contribute to this trend.
By hosting this trip, the Anthropology Department takes a step toward changing that. It demonstrates a commitment to fostering global citizens and critical thinkers who inform their opinions through conversations with real people rather than 60-second videos on TikTok feeds.
I hope that the trip’s participants will show our campus what it means to engage rather than alienate. Maybe they will open the door for a generation of students who choose curiosity over banishment, and have the courage to see one another as people, not as sides of a centuries-old geopolitical conflict.
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The Netherlands Shows Her True Colors Once Again
A view shows the Peace Palace, which houses the International Court of Justice (ICJ), in The Hague, Netherlands, April 28, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Piroschka van de Wouw
I never thought I would write these words, but I have lost respect for my own country. I say that with sadness, not anger. For years, I believed in the Dutch reputation for fairness, nuance, and moral clarity. Today, that image has crumbled. The way Dutch media covers Israel is not just biased; it is intellectually lazy, historically empty, and socially dangerous. Worst of all, it fuels a rising wave of antisemitism in a nation that should know exactly where that road leads.
The most recent example came from Trouw, a newspaper that once claimed to value journalistic integrity. It published an uncritical article praising the views of Ta-Nehisi Coates, who labeled Israel an “apartheid state.” That accusation was presented to readers as if it were self-evident truth, not an opinion. No context. No history. No pushback. No mention of equal rights for all Arab citizens. No mentions of terrorism, of facts on the ground, of the repeated rejection of peace initiatives, or of the lives Israelis have been forced to defend from relentless violence. It was a piece of writing that replaced journalism with activism, and knowledge with slogans.
If Dutch journalists insist on making comparisons, then honesty requires them to explain what real apartheid actually looked like. South Africa enforced legally defined racial categories, stripped millions of their citizenship, banned interracial marriage, separated schools, hospitals, beaches, toilets, buses, universities, and neighborhoods. Black South Africans were barred from voting, from certain jobs, and from owning land in most of the country. They were forced into impoverished “homelands,” denied freedom of movement, and subject to routine torture and violence by the state. None of this resembles Israel. Not even remotely.
But the truth no longer seems to matter in Dutch newsrooms. Nuance has disappeared. Context has vanished. Emotion has replaced evidence, and ideology has replaced inquiry. Israel is guilty by default, while its critics are treated as prophets whose words require no verification.
The Dutch media’s relentless one-sidedness reveals something deeper and more troubling than mere ignorance. It reflects a renewed comfort with blaming Jews for the world’s problems, a habit with a long and ugly history in Europe. When articles like the one in Trouw are circulated without challenge, they do not educate the public; they radicalize it. They normalize anti-Jewish hostility. They transform a complex conflict into a morality play, where Israelis are cast as colonial villains and Palestinians as blameless victims, regardless of reality.
As a Dutch citizen, I am ashamed. Ashamed of the intellectual laziness in our press. Ashamed of the moral posturing that ignores Jewish suffering. Ashamed of how quickly we have forgotten our responsibility to truth after the darkest chapter in European history. And ashamed that my country, once known for moral clarity, now prefers fashionable outrage over honest reporting.
Israel is not perfect. No nation is. But the apartheid accusation is not journalism. It is propaganda. And when the Dutch media amplifies it, they are not holding power to account — but are helping to spread a lie with real consequences for Jewish communities and for the possibility of peace.
It is time for Dutch journalists to rediscover integrity. And it is time for readers to demand it.
It is also time, more than ever, to stand up for Israel, because truth still matters.
Sabine Sterk is CEO of the NGO Time To Stand Up For Israel.