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Standing on Albania’s Jew Street, I learned firsthand the country’s lifesaving culture of hospitality
BERAT, Albania (JTA) — Stone paths wind through the Ottoman-style houses built into the hillside of Berat, Albania. They lead to an imposing 13th-century castle at the peak — the top priority for most visitors to this 60,000-person town 90 minutes south of the capital, Tirana. I had other plans.
Albanians take pride in their ancient code of “besa,” which translates to “keep the promise” and leads them to prioritize guests and religion in their homes. For Albanian Jews or those who fled there from elsewhere in the Balkan Peninsula as German forces advanced during World War II, it promised safe harbor with Albanian families and even throughout entire towns. Albania is the only country in Europe whose Jewish population grew during the war.
Berat’s Solomoni Museum explains this history and that of earlier Jews in the area. At least, so I hear: Under the stone arches off the plaza, I found only locked doors.
Some people collect souvenir spoons or Starbucks city mugs when they travel, others collect memories. I collect fragments of Jewish identity. Planning this trip to Albania with friends, I insisted on a stop in Berat to see the small museum and wasn’t about to give up.
“I’ll call her,” offered the woman behind the desk at the Ethnographic Museum across the street. “Her” referred to the caretaker, the widow of the Orthodox Christian professor who started the museum — Albania’s only one dedicated to Jewish history — as a passion project funded by his pension. After Simon Vrusho’s death in 2019, the museum closed until a French-Albanian businessman heard the story and donated funds for it to reopen in a larger, permanent location.
But the call ended with bad news: The caretaker was sick, and the museum would remain closed. I grimaced. Seeing my reaction, the Ethnographic Museum docent did what all Albanians do — anything she could to make me feel better, to make sure I enjoyed my stay in her town. In this moment, that meant explaining everything she knew about Jews in Albania.
A view of the exterior of the Solomoni Museum, the country’s only museum about its Jewish history. (Naomi Tomky)
Jews first arrived in the country as Roman captives, almost 2,000 years ago. But the first major wave, especially to Berat, came from Spanish Jews fleeing the Inquisition. The Ottoman Empire, which ruled the area at the time, offered nominal religious freedom.
This month, the country’s prime minister announced plans to open a museum in Tirana dedicated to the stories of Albanian citizens who sheltered Jews during the Holocaust, when the country was occupied by both fascist Italy and later Nazi Germany. Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust remembrance authority, has recognized at least 75 Albanians as Righteous Among the Nations for saving Jews.
“You can see the street where the Jews lived,” the docent noted. I perked up and jotted down her directions.
Six blocks away, I found a simple black plaque with white lettering, barely the size of my forearm and posted high on a white brick wall. It read, “Rruga Hebrentje.” I stared at it. Two millennia of Jewish history in the country, and one closed museum forced me to take heart in a little sign saying “Jew Street.”
A sign in Berat, Albania, reads Rruga Hebrentje, or Jew Street. (Naomi Tomky)
Jews have company in this razing of history: The brutal post-World War II communist regime of dictator Enver Hoxha shuttered all religious institutions in 1967, declaring Albania the world’s first atheist state. His forces destroyed more than 2,000 mosques, churches and other sacred buildings, arresting priests, clerics and imams, many of whom disappeared forever into labor camps and hidden graves. “Religion is the opium of the people,” Hoxha wrote, quoting Karl Marx.
It felt selfish to pout about the lack of Jewish history when so much religion, so many people and huge swaths of Albanian culture had been so recently and violently erased. I joined my friends to explore Berat’s exceptions to the wanton destruction, starting at the Sultan’s Mosque, which dates to the 15th century and boasts an intricately carved wooden ceiling. We expected to admire just the outside, since our guidebook said the doors opened only around Friday prayer.
But as we stared at the somewhat ordinary façade, a friendly gentleman chatted us up. He spoke Albanian, Greek and a bit of Italian, the last of which proved useful at matching up to our Spanish and French. He told us a little about the mosque and the casual styles of observance by most Albanian Muslims, but we only realized he worked there when he invited us inside, retrieving a key when we responded with excitement.
We marveled at the green, red and gold ceiling, illuminated by a round chandelier. He asked if we wanted to climb up the minaret, warning us about the ascent. Narrower than the width of my hips, the tightly coiled spiral of 94 stairs featured a layer of dust and cobwebs that stuck to our bare feet. But at the top, swallowing my fear of heights, confined spaces and bugs, I reaped the reward: a 360-degree view of the “thousand windows” that give the town its nickname, flanking both banks of the Osumi River, and the double eagle of Albania’s red flag flying proudly above it all from the castle.
A view of the ceiling inside the Sultans Mosque in Berat. (Naomi Tomky)
Back on the ground, we thanked the man profusely and dropped donations in the box outside the mosque door as we prepared to say goodbye. Instead, he led us across the square to another building – the Halveti Tekke, or Teqe. Light flowed through the high stained-glass windows onto the walls of the 700-year-old gathering place belonging to the mystic order of Sufi Muslims called Bektashi. Chains hung from the ornate gold-leaf-decorated ceiling over a space where, according to our new friend, the bektashi, or dervishes, used to perform their whirling rituals.
“You want to go up?” he asked my friend’s eight-year-old daughter. She nodded excitedly, and he tossed her a ring of keys, pointing the way to the balcony. As she climbed the stairs, I noticed a pair of six-pointed stars framing the main doorway, a reminder of my original mission, even if they were likely not Stars of David.
But if I felt sad about missing out on the Jewish museum, I was heartened by what I did receive: a first-hand lesson on Albania’s life-saving culture of hospitality.
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The post Standing on Albania’s Jew Street, I learned firsthand the country’s lifesaving culture of hospitality appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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YouTuber Ms. Rachel Apologizes for ‘Accidentally’ Liking Instagram Comment Calling to ‘Free America From Jews’
Ms. Rachel. Photo: Wiki Commons.
Children’s educator and YouTuber Ms. Rachel admitted on Wednesday that she “accidentally” liked an antisemitic comment on Instagram that called for America to be “free from the Jews.”
The YouTube star, who creates toddler learning videos, apologized for the apparent mistake after a social media user privately messaged her on Instagram and pointed out that Ms. Rachel liked the antisemitic comment left on one of her posts. The private message promoted Ms. Rachel, 43, to issue a public apology in a video that she posted Wednesday on Instagram for her 4.8 million followers.
The YouTuber, whose real name is Rachel Griffin Accurso, explained that she thought she deleted the hateful comment but accidentally hit “like and hide” instead. The avid critic of Israel, who has shared online posts accusing the Jewish state of “genocide” and has 18.6 million subscribers on her YouTube channel, got emotional in an Instagram video while explaining what happened.
“I thought I deleted a comment, and I accidentally hit ‘like’ and hide,’” she said in an Instagram video. “I don’t know how or why. I’ve accidentally liked comments before. It happens. I’m a human who makes mistakes. I would never agree with an antisemitic thing like the comment. We have Jewish family, a lot of my friends are Jewish. I delete antisemitic comments.”
The issue reportedly began when Ms. Rachel shared a statement from her notes app on Instagram that read “Free Palestine, Free Sudan, Free Congo, Free Iran.” A social media user who replied to the post wrote, “Free America from the Jews” and the comment garnered four likes including from Ms. Rachel, according to screenshots cited by the New York Post.
The children’s YouTube star insisted she was “so broken over” the incident.
“I feel like we can’t be human anymore online,” she complained in the video. “And I’m so sorry for the confusion it caused. I’m so sorry if anyone thought that I would ever agree with something horrible and antisemitic like that. I don’t.”
“I want to say that it’s OK to be human and it’s OK to make mistakes and I’m old, so I am not as good with touching things online, I guess. I have liked things by accident before,” she added. “Everyone who knows me knows I would never like that.”
In an earlier Instagram post about the incident, Ms. Rachel wrote that “people are allowed to make mistakes” and that she was “super sorry for any confusion it caused.”
“I delete antisemitism ANY time I see it. I am against all forms of hate including antisemitism against the Jewish people,” she added.
The watchdog group StopAntisemitism.org has previously accused Ms. Rachel of spreading Hamas propaganda and false information about Israel’s military actions in the Gaza Strip during the Israel-Hamas war.
Ms. Rachel lives in New York City and her husband is Broadway music director and composer Aron Accurso.
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Discussion: Growing up Hasidic in Vienna
זונטיק דעם 25סטן יאַנואַר וועט אויף זום פֿאָרקומען אַ שמועס מיט איידל מלובֿיצקי (מאַלאָוויצקי), אַ צאַנזער־רביש אייניקל וואָס איז געבוירן און דערצויגן געוואָרן בײַ אַ חסידישער סלאָנימער משפּחה אין ווין, עסטרײַך.
אלי בענעדיקט, וואָס וועט פֿירן דעם אינטערוויו און איז אַליין פֿון אַ חסידישער משפּחה, האָט געזאָגט אַז איידל מלוביצקי „טראָגט אין זיך אַ לעבעדיק לעבנבילד פֿון אַ חסידישער וועלט אין אַ מאָדערנער שטאָט. אין איר דערציילן פֿאַרבינדן זיך פּערזענלעכע זכרונות מיט קהילות־געשיכטע, און ייִדיש בלײַבט די שליסלשפּראַך פֿאַר ביידע.“
די דיסקוסיע ווערט געשטיצט פֿון דער ייִדיש־ליגע.
איידל מלובֿיצקי איז הײַנט אַ ייִדיש־לערערין און קולטור־פֿיגור, אַקטיוו אין פֿאַרשידענע אינסטיטוציעס — צווישן זיי: דער ווינער אוניווערסיטעט, „יונג־ייִדיש־ווין“ און „ייִדיש־זומער־ווײַמאַר“. זי איז אויך אַ וועגווײַזערין און גיט לעקציעס וועגן דער ייִדישער געשיכטע פֿון ווין, וועגן דער חסידישער געשיכטע בכלל, און די געשיכטע פֿון דער חסידישער קהילה אין ווין בפֿרט. בקרובֿ וועט אויך אַרויס אַ דאָקומענטאַר וועגן די בית־יעקבֿ־שולן, וווּ זי ווערט אויך אינטערוויוירט.
דער שמועס, וואָס איז פֿרײַ פֿון אָפּצאָל, וועט פֿאָרקומען זונטיק, דעם 25סטן יאַנואַר, 2 אַ זייגער נאָך מיטאָג ניו־יאָרקער צײַט. כּדי זיך צו רעגיסטרירן גיט אַ קוועטש דאָ.
The post Discussion: Growing up Hasidic in Vienna appeared first on The Forward.
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Australia PM Albanese ‘Profoundly Sorry’ for Failing to Prevent Bondi Beach Attack
Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese speaks at the Sydney Opera House during a National Day of Mourning for the victims of the Dec. 14, 2025, mass shooting at a Jewish Hanukkah celebration at Bondi Beach, in Sydney, Australia, Jan. 22, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Jeremy Piper
Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese said on Thursday he was “profoundly sorry” for his failure to prevent the Bondi Beach mass shooting, as the country observed a day of mourning for the victims of the attack.
Police say a father and son opened fire at an event celebrating the Jewish festival of Hanukkah on Dec. 14, killing 15 people in Australia‘s worst mass shooting in decades.
They say the two men were inspired by Islamic State to carry out the attack, which the government has called an act of terrorism against Jewish people.
Flags were flown at half-mast across the country ahead of a memorial event at Sydney’s iconic Opera House, where Albanese apologized to the relatives of the victims in the audience.
“You came to celebrate a festival of light and freedom and you left with the violence of hatred. I am deeply and profoundly sorry that we could not protect your loved ones from this evil,” Albanese said to sustained applause in his speech at the event.
Last month, the prime minister said he was “sorry for what the Jewish community and our nation as a whole has experienced” – an apology that some relatives said was insufficient.
A minute’s silence, including on the country’s main television channels, was held across the nation just after 7 pm in Sydney (0800 GMT) as the memorial event began.
Event attendees lit candles and heard speeches from other lawmakers, as well as Jewish prayers and video tributes.
Buildings across the country, including cricket stadiums in Melbourne and Perth, were also illuminated, while play was paused during the Australian Open tennis tournament to observe the minute’s silence.
The Bondi attack shocked the nation and led to calls for tougher action on antisemitism and gun control, with critics of Albanese saying he had not done enough to crack down on a spate of attacks on the Jewish community in recent years.
The government disputes this, and has already passed legislation tightening background checks for gun licenses, as well as separate legislation that would lower the threshold for prosecuting hate speech offenses.