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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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Gabbard Rejects Claims She Withheld Whistleblower Complaint from Congress
FILE PHOTO: Director of National Intelligence (DNI) Tulsi Gabbard speaks during a press briefing, at the White House in Washington, D.C., U.S., July 23, 2025. REUTERS/Kent Nishimura/File Photo
US Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard on Saturday disputed claims by lawmakers that she sought to block Congress from accessing a whistleblower complaint, saying she took “immediate action” once notified of the need to provide security guidance for its release.
A top-secret complaint filed with the intelligence community’s inspector general last May by an anonymous government official alleged that the US spy chief’s office sought to prevent the routine dissemination of certain classified intelligence for political reasons.
Gabbard was appointed to her post by Republican President Donald Trump last year.
A November letter from Andrew Bakaj, the whistleblower’s lawyer, to Gabbard’s office, which was also shared with the House of Representatives and Senate intelligence committees, alleged that Gabbard had hindered the dissemination of the May complaint to lawmakers by failing to provide necessary security guidance on how to handle it.
Democrats such as Senator Mark Warner, the vice chair of the Senate Intelligence Committee, have said that Gabbard’s agency, the Office of the Director of National Intelligence, was required under law to relay the May complaint to Congress within 21 days rather than waiting until February.
In a social media post on Saturday, Gabbard accused Democrats of spreading a “blatant lie.”
Successive inspectors general spanning the presidencies of Trump and his Democratic predecessor Joe Biden did not find the complaint to be credible, Gabbard wrote on X. The 21-day requirement “only applies when a complaint is determined by the Inspector General to be both urgent AND apparently credible,” Gabbard wrote.
Reuters could not verify the contents of the original complaint. The Guardian newspaper and the New York Times have reported that it was related to the handling of an intelligence intercept related to someone close to Trump.
Gabbard also wrote that she previously had not been informed by the inspector generals that the whistleblower had “chosen to send the complaint to Congress, which would require me to issue security instructions.” Gabbard wrote that once made aware of the need to provide security guidance to share the complaint with lawmakers on December 4, she took “immediate action” to do so.
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Iran Says Dialogue Remains Key as Nuclear Talks with US Make a “Step Forward”
Iran’s President Masoud Pezeshkian attends a press conference in Tehran, Iran, Sept. 16, 2024. Photo: WANA (West Asia News Agency)/Majid Asgaripour via REUTERS
i24 News – Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian described Friday’s first round of talks with the United States as a “step forward” in efforts to resolve disputes over Tehran’s nuclear program in an X post Sunday morning. The meetings, held with the support of regional governments, marked another round of dialogue aimed at avoiding further escalation.
“Our logic in nuclear matters is the rights enshrined in the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT),” the Iranian president said. “Dialogue has always been our strategy for a peaceful resolution.”
The president added that the Iranian nation “has always responded to respect with respect, but it does not tolerate the language of force.”
Meanwhile, Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi made clear over the weekend that zero enrichment is off the table, as well as the ballistic missiles program.
This while on Sunday, Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu, announcing his visit to Washington this Wednesday, said he believes any negotiations must include limitations on ballistic missiles and a halting of the support for the Iranian axis.
The talks are part of broader efforts by Washington and Tehran to find common ground on nuclear restrictions, ballistic missile development, and the role of regional proxies amid heightened tensions in the region. US officials have emphasized that diplomacy remains the preferred route to prevent further conflict.
Iran has maintained that its nuclear program is strictly for peaceful purposes, citing its rights under the NPT, which it joined in 1968. Previous rounds of negotiations have sought limits on uranium enrichment and increased inspections by the International Atomic Energy Agency.
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Why the Super Bowl antisemitism ad uses a familiar slur
To the editors:
The sticky note cruelly slapped on a high school student’s backpack didn’t have to say “Dirty Jew.”
It could have been any one of dozens of other antisemitic slurs, and believe me, throughout my life and current line of work, I’ve seen and heard them all. At the Blue Square Alliance Against Hate, our Command Center closely tracks the spread of antisemitism online, in all its pernicious forms.
In his piece for the Forward about our new Super Bowl ad, PJ Grisar argues that the ad misses the mark by using “Dirty Jew,” characterizing it as old-fashioned and out of touch with the heavily coded, meme-driven ways students typically express antisemitism today.
We’ve seen all of those slurs gaining traction among younger people that Grisar gave as examples of how kids hate today.
But we didn’t pull “Dirty Jew” out of the history books. In creating the ad, the Blue Square Alliance made a conscious decision to follow the research. Our decisions are based on data, from the one billion social media posts we analyze daily, to our semi-annual 7,000-participant survey on American sentiment toward Jews and antisemitism, to our multi-stage audience testing that is foundational to our creative development.
Here’s the hard data: With nearly 500 million social media impressions since 2023, “Dirty Jew” is a slur that has managed to penetrate all corners of American discourse. Worse yet, its usage online has increased by 174% in the past three years, growing at a significantly higher rate than other slurs. And sadly, the last few years have seen more than a few disturbing and real incidents of the scenario in the ad play out in real life. In U.S. high schools. Right now. Not 1950.
This data-guided approach drove our selection of “Dirty Jew” among all the possible antisemitic slurs as the one to appear on the sticky note. Even though at first glance this phraseology may seem dated, it’s actually timeless and ubiquitous — scarily — and is even outpacing other slurs in frequency of use.
So, whether you’re a Boomer, Millennial or Gen Z, there’s no subtlety to what this ad is showing you: this is antisemitism, pure and simple. And, as Grisar acknowledges in his piece, the challenge of storytelling within a 30-second ad window requires a clear, unambiguous message. In that short time, clarity beats complexity.
It was also important to us to use the high school setting and focus our ad on a younger demographic because that is where we have seen the most concerning trends in antisemitism data. Our most recent survey data shows that Gen Z is three times more likely to witness antisemitism than older generations, and yet nearly twice as likely to say it is not a problem.
At the heart of this campaign is Blue Square Alliance’s dedication to addressing another data point: more than 100 million Americans say they are unengaged in the collective effort to stand up against anti-Jewish hate. We have spent the past few years closely studying this segment, and our surveys show that unengaged Americans often don’t know Jewish Americans, they aren’t familiar with antisemitism (their news feeds and social feeds don’t share the awful stories that we all know too well), and they don’t think antisemitism is a significant problem. Importantly, they don’t feel personal or societal pressure to be an ally.
That’s exactly why we’re using the Super Bowl — a cultural touchstone for the entire country — to raise awareness and model allyship. We test all of our ads, including “Sticky Note” and our earlier ads like “Tony,” specifically with this target audience. What we’re seeing is promising.
Among the unengaged, exposure to our messaging measurably shifts attitudes: viewers become 36% more familiar with recent antisemitic incidents and 41% more likely to see antisemitism as a major problem in the United States. And the impact doesn’t stop at awareness — it moves people to act. After seeing our ads, unengaged viewers are 27% more likely to say they would speak up when they witness antisemitism.
And our work to cultivate allies extends far beyond the television screen. We complement our social media, outdoor and audio campaigns with on-the-ground bridge-building to strengthen connections with Americans across communities and reach those who have not yet been meaningfully involved in this issue. Over the past year, we’ve expanded our programs to bring more people into the conversation, like our partnership with UNCF and Hillel International, now on a 14-stop “Unity Dinner” tour, to connect Black and Jewish students on campuses nationwide. And last fall, we joined with the Appeal of Conscience Foundation to launch “Stand Up Sunday,” an interfaith effort that mobilized hundreds of thousands of congregants across the nation to reject antisemitism and all faith-based hate.
Our founder, Robert Kraft, created the Blue Square Alliance Against Hate in 2019 because he recognized that reversing the rise in antisemitism would require both awareness and empathy.
With “Sticky Note,” we’re showing what it means to be an upstander and giving Americans a clear, accessible way to step off the sidelines. We won’t simply win over the unengaged through displays of toughness and bravado alone, as some people have suggested. To reach the unengaged majority, you have to meet them where they are — not where we, as a deeply committed Jewish community, already stand.
The post Why the Super Bowl antisemitism ad uses a familiar slur appeared first on The Forward.