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‘Stop Cop City’ activists infuse Jewish rituals into their protest against Atlanta’s planned police training center
(JTA) — As the sun set on Feb. 5, signaling the start of Tu Bishvat, a group of Jews carried shovels into the South River Forest southeast of downtown Atlanta.
In the day’s declining light, they planted saplings — seven paw paws, three fig and two peach — to honor the holiday, Judaism’s “new year of the trees.” They recited the Shehechiyanu prayer, and a rabbi led them in singing “Tzadik Katamar”: “The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon,” from Psalm 92.
The traditional holiday observance doubled as a protest against “Cop City,” the name that self-described “forest defenders” have given the city of Atlanta’s plan to build a $90 million, 85-acre police and fire training center on 300-plus acres that it owns just over the city line in DeKalb County, Georgia.
Two years into protests against the plans, a “week of action” that began over the weekend swelled the protesters’ ranks and brought an even greater police presence to the site of the planned training center. On Sunday night, a group of activists broke from a nonviolent protest, burning police vehicles and, police said, throwing rocks at officers. Dozens of people were arrested.
The violent turn throws into question other plans for the week, which include a Purim celebration on Monday night and a Shabbat service on Friday, the latest Jewish milestones in nearly two years of controversy and confrontation.
“They’re living Jewish values more legitimately, more sincerely than some of the biggest institutions,” said Rabbi Mike Rothbaum of Atlanta’s Reconstructionist Congregation Bet Haverim, of the Jewish protesters. Rothbaum attended the Tu Bishvat event and is scheduled to lead this week’s Shabbat service; he was speaking before the weekend’s events.
Comparing their worship to a mishkan, the portable sanctuary that the Israelites carried in the desert, Rothbaum said of the protesters, “They go to shul at ‘Cop City.’”
A sukkah constructed in October 2023 at the “Cop City” protest site in the Atlanta forest was destroyed in a police raid in December. (Courtesy of Jewish Bird Watcher Union)
Until about 200 years ago, South River Forest was home to the Muscogee (Creek) tribe, who called it Weelaunee — “brown water,” the name painted on protest banners strung between trees. White settlers drove out the Muscogee, and the land later became a slave plantation, a Civil War battlefield and a city prison farm. Portions have been a police firing range and used for explosives disposal, and it has also been the site of illegal dumping.
In April 2021, Atlanta announced plans to build a police training facility in the forest. Opponents immediately launched a protest. They oppose the redirection of natural resources to the police and want the forest maintained as a natural sanctuary.
After two years as a primarily local issue, national and international attention spiked on Jan. 18, when a protester camped in the woods was killed during what police called a “clearing operation.” The Georgia Bureau of Investigation said Manuel Paez Teran fired a handgun, wounding a Georgia State Police trooper, then was killed by return fire. An independent autopsy reported that the 26-year-old known as “Tortuguita” was struck by at least 13 rounds. An Atlanta police vehicle was torched in a subsequent protest downtown. Charges against more than a dozen of those arrested include violating the state’s domestic terrorism statute.
Across Intrenchment Creek from the city property is a DeKalb County park that bears the waterway’s name and is the subject of an associated protest. Much of the “Stop Cop City” activity has taken place in the 136-acre Intrenchment Creek Park. Legal challenges are pending against a land swap in which the county gave 40 acres to the now-former owner of a film studio, whose crews leveled trees and tore up a paved path until a judge issued a stop work order.
Conservation groups and community organizations in the surrounding majority Black neighborhoods fear that any development will degrade the tree canopy in Atlanta — which calls itself the “city in the forest” — and exacerbate flooding in low-lying areas.
The larger, decentralized protest movement includes a number of Jews, most in their 20s and 30s, who have made their stand by holding Jewish rituals in the forest, some under the banner of the “Jewish Bird Watcher Union.” They have held Shabbat services, performed the Tashlich ritual on Rosh Hashanah, slept in a sukkah during Sukkot, lit Hanukkah candles, and planted trees on Tu Bishvat. Prayer books were adapted for Shabbat and the High Holidays, with illustrations by the Jewish artist Ezra Rose.
Digital fliers advertising Jewish activities during a “week of action” by protesters opposing Atlanta’s planned police training facility. (Shared on social media)
Most of the Jewish events have been held in Intrenchment Creek Park. At the entrance, signs attached to a crumpled gazebo denounce the “film site” property owner. Improvised memorials and slabs of stone bearing spray-painted slogans dot the parking lot. To frustrate machinery drivers, some trails were blocked by barricades formed from downed trees, discarded tires and anything else handy.
The day before Tu Bishvat, three of the young Jewish activists met with a reporter, in an unheated community center a short drive from the forest. Expressing concern about their personal security, given the heated atmosphere around the issue, they spoke on condition that they be identified only by their first names and that their photographs not appear.
Cam, 24, is a labor union activist who grew up in Atlanta, attending Conservative and Reform congregations. Ray, 24, is a software engineer and Georgia Tech graduate, who grew up attending a Reform synagogue in Maryland. Ruth, in her late 20s, works in “regenerative landscaping” and moved to Atlanta with her Israeli family as a child. All said they feel disconnected from the mainstream Jewish community in Atlanta, religiously, politically and ideologically.
“Mainstream Judaism has completely lost touch with the radical history and radical tradition of the Jews,” Ruth said. “The things I like about Judaism, I want to live them in real life.”
She added, “When Sukkot came around and we built a sukkah in the forest, this is the closest I’ve been to relating to the story of traveling, of being in the desert and sleeping under the canopy.”
A makeshift memorial for environmental activist Manuel Paez Teran, who was allegedly killed by law enforcement during a raid to clear the construction site of a police training facility that activists have nicknamed “Cop City” near Atlanta, Georgia, as seen Feb. 6, 2023. (Cheney Orr/AFP via Getty Images)
Upwards of 50 to 60 Jews have participated in the forest-based worship, and hundreds of people have streamed into the “living room” section of the woods. “I don’t know if they’re all gathering for Shabbat or not but they all gathered around with us and listened to us sing prayers and light candles,” Ray said.
Rothbaum said he admired what he saw the Jewish protesters doing. “Whatever your opinion of the activists at ‘Cop City,’ you have to admire their commitment,” he said, adding, “These kids are reacting to the assimilation of a great heritage of meaning and justice.”
The sukkah survived for two months past the end of Sukkot, until a Dec. 13 police raid against encampments on both sides of Intrenchment Creek. A photo posted on Twitter showed the dismantled poles and torn sheets. The disappearance of the large menorah from the Intrenchment Creek parking lot after Hanukkah was blamed on crews working for the film site owner.
May the candle lights of Khanukah ignite the flames of rebellion. @defendATLforest pic.twitter.com/kdh6mqhMHY
— Fayer – פֿײַער (@FayerAtlanta) December 22, 2022
The morning after Tu Bishvat, city and county SWAT teams, along with state police, were deployed as construction equipment was brought into the police training center site. Two weeks later, at a Shabbat dinner in the forest following the Jan. 18 raid, attendees recited a Mourner’s Kaddish for Manuel Paez Teran and sang the traditional prayer “Oseh Shalom Bimromav” — “They who make peace in their high places.”
The Jewish activists see parallels between their activism on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and what’s happening in their local forest.
“Anti-Zionism was a major part of what brought us together in the first place, even before the forest movement,” said Cam, who said he saw the two issues as “related struggles.” Opposing Israel is “a big part of what leads us to feel alienated from most mainstream Jewish communities and the inability to be accepted there, and the necessity of forming our own.”
Ruth participated in activism on behalf of Palestinians while visiting family in Israel last summer. “I was hearing and seeing old ancient olive orchards that were destroyed, burned or cut by settlers in order to disempower Palestinians from living there,” she said. “It made me really feel, like, defend the forest everywhere.”
Atlanta officials say they do not plan to defile the forest and argue that the city’s police training facilities are inadequate. The planned complex would serve the police and fire departments, the 911 call center and K-9 units. It would include a shooting range, a “mock city” (with a gas station, motel, home and nightclub) and a “burn building.” The remainder of the land will be developed for recreational use, officials say.
“This is Atlanta and we know forests. This facility will not be built over a forest,” Atlanta Mayor Andre Dickens said at a January news conference. “The training center will sit on land that has long been cleared of hardwood trees through previous uses of this site decades ago.”
Activists accuse the city and county of a lack of transparency throughout the process. In a February interview with the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Dickens conceded that the city could have done a better job selling the project. “We didn’t do that. And because we didn’t do that it started getting painted by anybody that had a brush,” he told the newspaper.
The mayor’s words have not deterred activists, whose goal is nothing less than cancellation of the project.
“They have destroyed a lot of the beauty already,” Cam said. “They have created this place of desolation and death and destruction, and that is in opposition to our task as Jews to create a world of beauty and joy and holiness. By coming to this place and planting trees, we are reclaiming it, making a place of peace and joy.”
Rabbi Mike Rothbaum, seen here in Massachusetts in 2017, is an Atlanta rabbi who has participated in “Cop City” protests. (Jonathan Wiggs/The Boston Globe via Getty Images)
The local Jewish protesters have lately gotten a boost from a progressive Jewish organization based in Philadelphia. The Shalom Center launched in the 1980s to oppose nuclear proliferation and now focused largely on climate justice.
“Our sacred text is called ‘The Tree of Life,’” wrote the center’s founder, Rabbi Arthur Waskow, and national organizer Rabbi Nate DeGroot in a Feb. 28 letter to Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp that noted Jewish law’s prohibition on uprooting trees. “We pray that the trees of the Weelaunee Forest remain trees that support the flourishing of sacred life for generations to come.”
Rothbaum said he was inspired by the young Jewish activists. “They are reminding us of the Jewish values that come to us through Torah, through the rabbinic writings, that are timeless,” he said. “They are reminding us of what we’re supposed to be. And we owe them a debt of gratitude.”
Ruth had a message for Atlanta’s Jewish congregations and communal organizations, most of which have not engaged publicly on the issue: “I would invite them to join us, to put their Jewish values into action,” she said. “Everything we’re doing here is really Jewish.”
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The best Shabbat I ever kept, or how to dodge the biggest World Series spoiler ever
This time a year ago, with Sukkot ending and the World Series upon us, I and many other Shabbat-observant Jews were coming apart at the spiritual seams.
Naturally, I wrote about it: The New York Yankees and the Los Angeles (formerly Brooklyn) Dodgers were facing off in the Fall Classic for the 12th time in their storied rivalry and the first time in 43 years. But because the first two games overlapped with Shabbat — falling on Friday and Saturday evenings — thousands of diehards in the two biggest Jewish communities in the U.S. couldn’t watch.
Or could we?
When I asked those fans about the quandary, a few of them told me they’d found ways to watch: A friend’s apartment, the in-laws downstairs, little loopholes with which I was well-versed. (When I was a kid, the dry cleaner’s flatscreen usually sufficed.) Others who couldn’t or wouldn’t watch planned to learn the outcome through the grapevine the next day.
No one I spoke to, however, planned to record the game and watch it after Shabbat ended. Sure, starting a replay of Game 1 on Saturday night meant you couldn’t join Game 2 in progress. But the bigger reason was also kind of funny: In a community that insists on unplugging for 25 hours, finding out a sports score — even inadvertently — was generally seen as inevitable. The only person who believed it was possible to avoid World Series spoilers and watch the whole thing, start-to-finish, 24 hours after the fact, was me.
I also just wanted my precious Shabbat left alone. On the job, I am regularly contending with a firehose of information — much of it discouraging — and the intensity hardly lessens when I’m off the clock. When people ask me whether it’s hard to turn off my phone on Friday afternoon, my answer is that it’s really not. The challenge — the imperative — is protecting the feeling of rest that comes with it. So: No sports fandom, either.
Now, the problem of spoilers is close to my heart. I once wrote an article for this publication about a Harry Potter spoiler that became the most devastating Camp Ramah prank of all time. I now believe that Jewish law actually regards ruining an ending without consent as an act of theft — one called g’neivat da’at (literally, “theft of knowledge”). Of course, the harder a person works to avoid spoilers, the more easily something is spoiled; friends know not to text me asking if I watched the game because that means it ended!!!
Staying out of the loop would be difficult, but I’d spent half a lifetime watching Saturday games on tape delay. In case you weren’t aware, streaming apps are all apparently hell-bent on revealing the outcome of a game that’s just happened before you watch it, by, to take one infuriating example, making the thumbnail image a picture of one of the teams celebrating. In the face of this adversity, I’ve developed the specific muscle of keeping my eyes just focused enough to find the game I want and put it on. These ocular reps would surely prepare me for the World Series.
The Saturday morning after Game 1, I walked to shul with my sister. Well, I was headed to shul; she was headed first to the shul security guard, that singular oracle of contemporary American Orthodox Judaism, who would have the scoop. I escaped that spoiler by skipping ahead as we approached, but my plan faced some resistance in the pews. Everyone else knew what had happened and wanted to discuss it. And I’ll never forget the look of sheer annoyance one in-the-know friend had when I explained my choice. “You’re just gonna go the whole day not knowing?” Sir, that was the whole point.
Several hours later, I was pacing in front of the television in my apartment. There were two outs, bases loaded, bottom of the 10th inning, Dodgers down one. All of it had already happened, and yet none of it had, when I watched Freddie Freeman limp to the plate. You don’t need me to tell you what happened next.
A walk-off grand slam. Reader, I was screaming. I started a replay of Game 2 a few minutes later.
Now, I titled this column “the best Shabbat I ever kept,” but the truth is I don’t really remember too much about that Shabbat. I probably spent it like most others — whiling away a few hours in shul, seeing family and friends, nodding off on the couch. I’m sure only that it wasn’t spoiled. Dodgers history awaited me after Havdalah.
The post The best Shabbat I ever kept, or how to dodge the biggest World Series spoiler ever appeared first on The Forward.
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Are you a Good Witch or a Bad Witch? Or a Jewitch?
When I was a little girl, I played Witch all the time. I was The Grande Madame — the Queen of all the Witches. I even wrote spooky musicals for the neighborhood kids. We set up lawn chairs in my friend Susie’s backyard in Queens, and made our parents watch. If I had been more business minded, I would have sold tickets.
Now I teach music and something must have stayed with me, because October is my favorite month — Witchy Music Month. This week, I put on my pointy hat, plugged in my spooky orange lights, and played some scenes from The Wizard of Oz and Snow White for the kiddos.
Then I noticed something.
Both witches had big, hooked noses. What they used to call “Jewish Noses.” The noses that kept New York surgeons busy when we hit 18. Many of us got nose jobs. It wasn’t a secret. It was expected.
My mother said no, so I couldn’t get one, but it didn’t stop me from kvetching. (I also asked to be sent to a Swiss Finishing School — again, no.)
I looked it up. A big study in 1914 debunked the theory that Jews actually had big noses — 14% aquiline, compared with 10% of the regular population. Considering that Jews are a people sometimes “bottlenecked from geographic diversity” in a more modern study in 2022, meaning that we weren’t allowed to live anywhere we wanted, and definitely meaning that we inbred, it doesn’t sound like we owned Big Nose.
Tell everybody.
Still, the “hook-nosed” Jewish stereotype remains. Hard to get rid of stereotypes, and harder to get rid of what most people find conventionally attractive. Especially when Disney adds to the Big Hooked Nose in Snow White’s witch — with some well-placed warts.
The most famous Jewish Witch story was when King Saul wanted to go to battle with the Philistines and consulted the Witch of Endor. She summoned Prophet Samuel’s Spirit for the King. Alas Samuel prophesied Doom, and King Saul and his son Jonathan were killed the next day.
The irony was that King Saul had banned all witches, until he needed one himself.
And do you remember what TV writer Sol Sacks named Samantha’s mother in the TV series, Bewitched? Yes, Endora. I bet Sacks’ Hebrew School teacher was proud.
My son, Aaron, is most like me, and I guess most susceptible to my witchiness. He really believed when he was little, and I remember once picking him up from his second grade class. As I bent down to tie Aaron’s shoe, I felt 100 little eyes on me. When I straightened up, I was surrounded by a solemn crowd. A little girl pointed and said, “Aaron, she doesn’t look like a witch.”
I have to admit, I was a little insulted.
I also have to admit that I did use my powers on Aaron and I am a little ashamed. When he was six, he hated Shabbos because of its restrictions. No TV, no piano, no trips in the car to the 7-Eleven for Slurpees; and endless synagogue.
But this happened on a Wednesday night. He was in a mood and was smashing all her plastic swords and yelling, and I was on the phone trying to accept a music gig with a bride and groom. I told the couple I’d call them right back.
“Aaron,” I looked at him. “If you don’t stop right now — I’m gonna make it SHABBOS!”
He dropped his swords in petrified horror. “C-c-can you really DO that?”
And then I did something I’m even more ashamed of. I smiled.
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Turkey-Qatar Partnership Grows While Hamas Refuses to Disarm, Raising Alarm Bells Over Gaza’s Future
Turkish President Tayyip Erdogan is welcomed by Qatar’s Emir Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad al-Thani in Doha, Qatar, Oct. 22, 2025. Photo: Murat Kula/Turkish Presidential Press Office/Handout via REUTERS
As Qatar and Turkey further expand their relationship, concerns are mounting that their growing influence in Gaza could bolster Hamas and complicate the fragile ceasefire, as both countries pursue their regional ambitions in the war-torn enclave.
On Wednesday, Ankara and Doha signed new agreements on defense, trade, and strategic planning, deepening a partnership that continues to raise alarm bells among Israel, Gulf states, and experts, who warn that their expanding roles in Gaza’s reconstruction efforts could potentially strengthen Hamas’s terrorist infrastructure.
As part of his three-day Gulf tour, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan traveled to Doha to meet with Qatari Emir Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani.
During the 11th meeting of the Turkey–Qatar High Strategic Committee, the two leaders issued a joint declaration reaffirming their commitment to maintaining the US-backed Gaza peace plan.
Erdogan’s diplomatic visit came a day after Hamas leaders met with Qatari and Turkish officials in Doha to discuss the ongoing Israel-Hamas ceasefire and plans for rebuilding Gaza after the war.
As both nations expanded their relationship with new cooperation agreements, Turkey has reportedly sought to acquire billions of dollars’ worth of military technology from Qatar, including 24 used and 16 new Eurofighter Typhoon jets.
If approved, the deal would allow Doha to provide Ankara with an immediate solution to its operational gap, bypassing the Eurofighter production schedule, which is currently overbooked due to high global demand.
Amid rising geopolitical tensions, Turkey’s move to acquire advanced multi-role combat aircraft would strengthen its position as a key regional power and reduce reliance on American-made systems, while representing a major step in modernizing its combat aviation fleet.
However, concerns over Qatar and Turkey’s expanding partnership come at a time when the fragile Gaza ceasefire, though seemingly holding, faces mounting challenges, as the Palestinian terrorist group continues to refuse disarmament — an essential component of US President Donald Trump’s peace plan.
On Saturday, Hamas reiterated the group’s refusal to give up its weapons as part of the ceasefire.
“The proposed weapons handover is out of the question and not negotiable,” a Hamas official told AFP.
Hamas Politburo member Mohammed Nazzal also said the group could not commit to disarmament, as it intends to maintain security control in Gaza during an interim period.
Even though Hamas has publicly expressed these views before, these latest remarks have heightened concerns over obstacles to ending the war in Gaza, with the next phase of ceasefire negotiations waiting to begin.
In this regional context, experts warn that both Turkey and Qatar — as two of the largest state sponsors of Hamas, with long-standing ties to the terrorist group — could shield the Islamist movement in Gaza or even bolster its terror infrastructure, as they seek a central role in post-war efforts.
Alongside the United States and regional powers, Qatar has served as a ceasefire mediator during the two-year conflict in Gaza, facilitating indirect negotiations between the Jewish state and Hamas, which has ruled the enclave for nearly two decades.
However, Doha has also backed the Palestinian terrorist group for years, providing Hamas with money and diplomatic support while hosting and sheltering its top leadership.
Turkey has also been a major international backer of Hamas and has maintained an openly hostile stance toward the Jewish state for years.
During his visit to Doha, Erdogan said the ceasefire “has provided relief to Palestinians,” but reiterated that a two-state solution was the only path to resolving the conflict with Israel.
Under Trump’s plan, Turkey is expected to join a multinational task force responsible for overseeing the ceasefire and training local security forces.
However, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu hinted at opposition to any involvement of Turkish security forces in post-war Gaza.