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Ukrainian Jewish life has always taken place in Russian. Now a race to translate is underway.
LVIV, Ukraine (JTA) – The rabbis sat around a breakfast table, discussing Russia’s war on the country where they work in a mixture of Yiddish, Hebrew and Russian. They named their hometowns as Lugansk, Lvov and Dnepr, the Russian names for Ukrainian cities that have vaulted into international headlines since Russia invaded Ukraine in February.
Although they were focused on Ukraine’s progress in the fighting, the rabbis uttered not a single word in Ukrainian. How could they? Like the vast majority of Jews in Ukraine, none of them speaks the country’s official language.
Russian has long been the first language for a wide swath of Ukrainians, including the majority of the country’s Jews. But after the Russian invasion, many Ukrainians decided they wanted to speak less Russian and more Ukrainian. Many Jews, similarly horrified by the sight of thousands of Russian soldiers pouring over Ukraine’s borders and wishing to demonstrate their Ukrainian bonafides, have made the same choice — even as it means disrupting a long linguistic tradition.
So when the rabbis’ successors meet for pancakes and sour cream, they will be far more likely to introduce themselves as the rabbis of Luhansk, Lviv and Dnipro, the Ukrainian names for their hometowns that have become the standard in English. They will also likely be able to hand their students and congregants Ukrainian-language versions of central Jewish texts that simply do not exist now.
“Many of my friends say that they are embarrassed to use Russian as a language. They say that we are Ukrainian Jews, and that Russia is a terrorist country fighting us and that we shouldn’t use their language,” said Rabbi Meir Stambler, from Dnipro. “Others say that [Russian president Vladimir] Putin doesn’t own the Russian language. It is an issue.”
He added, “This is something that people are discussing all the time.”
A decade ago, half of Ukrainians said they spoke Russian as their native language. That number has declined to 20%, fueled in part by resentment over Russia’s aggressions in Crimea, a contested region that it annexed by force in 2014. But Jews have remained predominantly Russian-speaking, even in parts of western Ukraine where Ukrainian has long been the dominant language. (Russian and Ukrainian are related linguistically, but their speakers cannot understand each other.)
Russia’s war on Ukraine has Ukrainian Jews playing catchup. Stambler, who heads the Federation of Jewish Communities, a body affiliated with the Hasidic Chabad-Lubavitch movement that operates a network of 36 synagogues around Ukraine, offers a stark prediction: “Within 10 years, every Jew in Ukraine will speak Ukrainian.”
The dominance of Russian among Ukraine’s Jews, who numbered in the tens of thousands before the war, has deep roots.
“The historical trajectory of Jews in what is now Ukraine led them in the 19th century to adopt Russian rather than Ukrainian,” says historian Natan Meir, a professor of Judaic studies at Portland State University. “That was because Ukrainian was perceived as a peasant language that did not have any high culture associated with it, and because there were no economic advantages to adopting Ukrainian at the time.”
Now, the upside of switching to Ukrainian — demonstrating a national allegiance during a time of war — couldn’t be clearer.
“Jews feel quite integrated into Ukrainian society, but a shift, even if it is a gradual shift, to Ukrainian is going to make that more tangible than ever,” Meir said, calling the Russian invasion “absolutely game-changing” for Ukrainian Jews. “They will be perceived even more strongly than they have been as being wholly Ukrainian and part of the fabric of Ukrainian society.”
Most Ukrainian Jews, especially those educated since the collapse of the Soviet Union, can now speak some Ukrainian. But their ability often depends on where they grew up: Many Jews in traditionally Russophone cities such as Odesa, Dnipro or Kharkiv can struggle with the language, while their grandparents often cannot speak it at all.
Books in both Hebrew and Russian sit on a bookshelf at Medzhybizh. (Jacob Judah)
“Not more than 20% were Ukrainian-speaking at home,” says Stambler. “Take President [Volodymyr] Zelensky. He knew Ukrainian, but he didn’t speak it at home, and he had to polish it up when he became president.”
It will not be simple for the Jewish community to suddenly switch to Ukrainian, the most widely spoken European language without a standardized translation of the Torah.
Two years ago, a team of translators working in Israel, Austria and Hungary began working to produce Ukrainian-language Jewish texts. But before the Russian invasion, the effort had so far produced only a Ukrainian book of psalms, or tehillim.
In May, two months into the war, a decision was made to accelerate work on a daily prayer book. A Torah could follow.
“The chumash is difficult,” said Stambler, who oversees the half-dozen-strong team of translators from his base in Dnipro, using the Hebrew word for the printed form of the Torah. “We are working on it.”
While translating sacred texts can take years, other changes have come faster. The leaflets, brochures and calendars that are a fixture at any Jewish center in Ukraine were quickly swapped out Russian for Ukrainian, at least at the federation’s headquarters. Before February, these had often been produced and printed by Russian Jewish communities and shared with those in Ukraine, for simplicity’s sake.
“This differentiation from Russian Jewry is going to be huge,” said Meir, the historian. “Up until this point they have essentially formed one linguistic and cultural space that all Jews, whether they were in Ukraine, Russia or Belarus could move freely between.”
Now, the ties between those communities are both logistically complicated to maintain — trade routes have been ruptured — and also potentially a liability at a time when anyone in either Russia or Ukraine showing an affinity for the other country can face suspicion or penalties.
“This shift, if it actually happens, is going to be marking out a totally new cultural space for Ukrainian Jews and almost a declaration of independence,” Meir said “Or at least that is the aspiration, because there is so much of their heritage which is still based in the Russian language that it is going to be a long time before they can fully separate.”
That separation process, which began to take shape most clearly after 2014, has quickened. “We started doing things ourselves,” said Stambler. “We used to do about 20% in Ukrainian for the Jews in western towns like Lviv, Ivano-Frankivsk and Uzhhorod, but we are making a much stronger push now.”
He estimates that some 75% of material being distributed to Ukrainian Jewish communities by the Federation of Jewish Communities was in Ukrainian by September, up from 20% to 35% in January.
Young rabbis who come from the United States or Israel to serve small Jewish communities across Ukraine now say that they have had to add Ukrainian alongside their Russian classes.
“I began with Russian,” said one of those rabbis who works in Vinnitsya, until he decided over the summer that he had to learn Ukrainian. “I realized that I had to learn Ukrainian because I needed it on the street. I needed it to speak with the government and with the media.”
Signs in a synagogue in Ukraine are written in both Ukrainian and Russian. (Jacob Judah)
Some Ukrainian Jews are voting with their voices.
“My whole life, I spoke only Russian,” said Olha Peresunko, who before the war lived in Mikolaiv in southern Ukraine. “But after the 24th of February I am speaking only Ukrainian.”
Peresunko was speaking outside a Lviv synagogue this fall, where she and other refugees were waiting for food parcels. She had fled Mikolaiv, which has sustained repeated assault by Russian troops, for Lviv with her mother and two children while her husband is on the frontlines.
Her children are finding it hard to adjust to the exclusive Ukrainian environment in Lviv, but she is confident that they will make the shift. “They will speak Ukrainian as their first language,” Peresunko said.
Exactly how much the shift to Ukrainian will change local Jewish communities is a matter of debate. Rabbi Shalom Gopin, who fled to Kyiv in 2014 from his home community in Luhansk, an overwhelmingly Russophone city seized by Russia-backed separatists at that time, said he, too, believes that Ukrainian will displace Russian as the lingua franca of Ukrainian Jewry.
A Ukrainian woman displays her Ukrainian-language Jewish calendar as a source of pride, September 2022. (Jacob Judah)
“They are starting to slowly speak Ukrainian,” he said. “It is no problem. There are lots of Jews in America who speak English. We live here, and we speak the languages of the places that we live. It is normal.”
But Gopin said the linguistic shift “means nothing” amid other issues facing Jews in Ukraine, where Russia’s war is threatening to undo 30 years of Jewish community building, largely though not exclusively led by Chabad, Gopin’s Orthodox movement.
“The problem for the Jews of Ukraine is not language,” he said. “It is about how much they are going to synagogue, or how many children are going to Jewish schools, not about what they are speaking.”
Natalia Kozachuk, 45, a Jewish businesswoman in Lviv, sees only upside to shedding Russian, her native language. She has started to speak to her children only in Ukrainian.
“It will be hugely positive if Jews speak more Ukrainian,” Kozachuk said. This is the only way that Jews can truly “learn more about the Ukrainian people,” she said, “about their history and the positive qualities and strengths of Ukraine.”
“Only good can come of it,” she added. “We will understand each other better.”
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Jews in Iran and in the diaspora find respite in celebrating Nowruz amid war
Anna Hakakian, a resident of Great Neck, New York, grew up in Iran during the Iran-Iraq war. At that time, Nowruz, the secular Persian New Year, offered a rare moment of respite from a conflict that claimed hundreds of thousands of lives.
That war came in the aftermath of the 1979 Islamic Revolution, when Iran’s new leaders tried to ban Nowruz, seeing it as un-Islamic. But Iranians of all religions refused to let it go.
This week, Hakakian is celebrating Nowruz in the shadow of another war. For her, the holiday carries the legacy of Iranians fighting to preserve thousand-year-old traditions despite efforts to suppress them.
“They really tried to erase this from our culture these past 47 years, but it didn’t work,” she said. “It had nothing to do with religion, and all the religions celebrated it, and that’s why it really lasted, because they all fought to keep it.”
How Jews celebrate a Zoroastrian holiday
Nowruz is a 3,000-year-old celebration rooted in ancient Persian tradition, predating the religious divisions that later shaped the region. Its name, meaning “New Day,” marks the arrival of spring.
Though rooted in Zoroastrianism, one of the world’s oldest monotheistic religions, Nowruz is celebrated by Iranians of all faiths. Even observant Jews mark the holiday. “You don’t get the sense that Iranian Jews took Nowruz any less seriously than non-Jewish Iranians,” said Lior Sternfeld, an expert on Iranian Jews and author of Between Iran and Zion.
The holiday lasts 13 days and begins at the exact moment of the spring equinox. Every year, the start time varies, so Iranians often stay awake until the early hours of the morning to welcome the new year. This year, Iranians brought in the holiday on March 20, around 6 p.m. in Tehran. The celebrations will continue until April 2.
Iranians mark the event by setting up a haft-seen table — a vibrant display of symbolic objects that represent themes of spring and renewal. The table traditionally includes seven items beginning with the Persian letter “S,” like sprouts (sabze), the Iranian spice sumac, and hyacinth flowers (sombol). Iranians also visit one another’s homes, hold neighborhood parties and — during the final days of the holiday — gather for picnics.
According to an Iranian Jewish woman living in the U.S., who asked to remain anonymous because her family remains in Iran, some Jewish Iranians are going to great lengths to celebrate the holiday even amid the war. During her biweekly, one-minute phone calls with her parents — kept short to avoid state surveillance and the exorbitant cost of roughly $50 per minute — they told her they had celebrated Nowruz at home, the last thing they did before fleeing to a safer part of the country to avoid bombardment.
“We only talk for one or two minutes. Usually, they just call to tell me they’re alive. But this time because of Nowruz, the call was a little bit longer,” she said. “It was three minutes! Now three minutes is long.”
Videos and photos circulating on social media show the bazaar in Tehran, which had been closed since the war began, alive once more with patrons shopping for Nowruz essentials like fresh flowers and greens.
Most Nowruz traditions are shared across religions, but Jews have adapted certain customs to reflect their heritage.
Many Muslim families include a Quran on their haft-seen table, but “We Jews … put a little Torah in there,” Hakakian said. “We just adjust a little bit to include our history, but everything else is the same.” Some Jewish families elect instead to include a book of Hafez poetry, a secular symbol of Iranian culture and literary tradition.
The holiday typically falls a week or two before Passover, which shares similar themes of renewal and rebirth. While Nowruz is traditionally marked by spring cleaning, Sternfeld said many Jewish Iranians connect the two for practical reasons.
“If Pesach is a few days away, you want to use this occasion to get rid of chametz while you’re cleaning for Nowruz.”
The only holiday celebrated in public
In Iran, Jewish holidays are kept quiet, confined to private homes, and sometimes even basements or secret locations to maintain discretion. But Nowruz is the one holiday Jews are able to celebrate outwardly.
“Holidays were stressful. They were very stressful. I associate holidays with having to watch myself. I thought there was no such thing as a carefree holiday,” said the anonymous Iranian Jewish woman.
Cindy Chaouli, an Iranian Jew who left the country in 1978 and now lives in Los Angeles, recalled how “subdued” it felt celebrating holidays like Purim and Passover during her childhood. “It was celebratory, but it was still quiet from the outside world.”
Nowruz, by contrast, spilled into the streets.
“It was totally different,” said Chaouli. “This was the one holiday that was universal. It had nothing to do with religion. You felt it as much outside as you did inside yourself.”
She recalled visiting the homes of non-Jewish neighbors during the holiday.
“I remember going to our neighbor’s house downstairs and having sweets … they’d make a drink called sharbat with cherries, sugar and water. You would just eat and play. It was just extremely celebratory.”
Nowruz in exile
After the 1979 Iranian Revolution, much of Iran’s Jewish community dispersed — many settling in Los Angeles and Long Island, New York, now home to two of the largest Iranian diasporas in the U.S., where Iranians continue to celebrate Nowruz with fervor.
“Here … everyone has parties, all the families get together, we have Nowruz billboards everywhere,” Chaouli said, referring to advertisements across the city publicizing Nowruz events, which this year, honor the plight of Iranians in Iran.
In the days leading up to the holiday, Persian grocery stores become scenes of near chaos. At Elat Market, a kosher Persian grocery store in Los Angeles, the crowds are notoriously intense when Nowruz and Passover coincide.
“There was a woman and her mother — one was standing at this container, filling bags and throwing them over people’s heads,” Chaouli recalled.
This year, many of the Persian stores are adorning their windows with the pre-revolutionary Iranian flag, a symbol of protest against the Islamic Regime.
Out on the streets, the celebratory mood is unmistakable. “Everyone I say hello to, it’s ‘Happy Nowruz,’” she said. “It’s a very celebratory time here.”
The sense of shared celebration has been tested in recent years. Chaouli said she has felt tensions between Jewish and Muslim Iranians in the diaspora grow in the wake of the Hamas attack on Israel and the Gaza war that followed.
“After October 7, there was definitely a rift and a lot of friendships were lost,” she said.
But with the new war dredging up shared feelings of grief and cautious hope for the country’s future, Chaouli feels Iranians of all religions are celebrating the holiday together more intensely than before.
“I’ve heard multiple people say that it doesn’t feel the same this year,” said Hakakian. “There’s a feeling of guilt to celebrate and to be happy when all this is going on. But at the same time, we say, Nowruz is here. It’s giving us hope.”
In Hakakian’s Persian calligraphy class, which she takes alongside Iranians of different faiths, the holiday became a moment of shared mourning.
“We sat together, and first we said, ‘Happy Nowruz,’ and then we all sat together in a moment of silence for the Iranian people,” she said. “It didn’t matter who’s Jewish, who’s not. We were all grieving for Iranians. And that, to me, was a moment — like, yes, we do need a moment of silence together.”
The post Jews in Iran and in the diaspora find respite in celebrating Nowruz amid war appeared first on The Forward.
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UK Doctor Known for Antisemitic Posts Arrested After Violating Bail, Charged With Inviting Support for Hamas
Dr. Rahmeh Aladwan addresses the Activist Independent Movement’s Nakba77, Birmingham Demonstration for Palestine, outside the local BBC offices and studios in 2025. Photo: Screenshot
A British Palestinian doctor based in the United Kingdom and known for antisemitic social media posts on Friday pleaded not guilty to inciting support for Hamas, a proscribed terrorist group, and publishing material intending to stir up racial hatred.
Rahmeh Aladwan, 31, appeared in Westminster Magistrates Court in London, where she was released on bail. The doctor, who is part of the UK’s National Health Service (NHS), will next appear at the Central Criminal Court of England and Wales, commonly known as the Old Bailey, in London on April 24.
The court appearance came one day after British law enforcement arrested Aladwan and slapped her with four counts of “inviting support for Hamas” and two counts of stirring up racial hatred through both spoken words and written material. The charges followed a series of statements and publications she allegedly made in support of Hamas and antisemitic conspiracy theories.
According to a statement from the Metropolitan Police, officers apprehended Aladwan at her residence in Pilning, South Gloucestershire, and transported her to a central London police station on the grounds that she had breached bail conditions “imposed following previous arrests.”
British law enforcement had arrested Aladwan on Oct. 21, charging her with four counts related to malicious communications and inciting racial hatred.
A group of demonstrators praised Aladwan, a trainee trauma and orthopedic surgeon, as she left the courthouse on Friday. One waved a Palestinian flag. Another wearing a keffiyeh held a protest sign while someone banged a drum and a voice yelled, “You’re a hero.”
Campaign Against Antisemitism (CAA), a British charity and watchdog group, noted that a social media account titled “GLOBALISE THE INTIFADA” called for the gathering, urging that “our sister Dr Aldwan needs our support” and “this is as serious as it gets.” The account features inverted red triangles to bookend its name, a symbol used by Hamas to mark Israeli targets to be attacked in its propaganda. Since the outbreak of the Israel-Hamas war in Gaza, the symbol has been widely used by activists to express opposition to the Jewish state and support for the Palestinian terrorist group.
“It speaks volumes about pro-Palestine activists in Britain that they rush to the defense of those charged with supporting Hamas,” CAA said of the demonstration.
According to police, on July 21, 2025, on King Charles Street in London, Aladwan “used words that were threatening, abusive, or insulting intending thereby to stir up racial hatred or having regard to all the circumstances was reckless as to whether racial hatred would be stirred up,” a violation of the Public Order Act of 1986.
On Nov. 19, 2025, police allege that Aladwan “published or distributed written material that was threatening, abusive or insulting intending thereby to stir up racial hatred or having regard to all the circumstances was reckless as to whether racial hatred would be stirred up,” a violation of the same law.
Aladwan’s charges of inviting support for a proscribed terrorist organization range from summer through winter of last year, with her alleged crimes committed in July, August, October, and on New Year’s Eve.
The UK’s Medical Practitioners Tribunal Service (MPTS), which adjudicates on complaints made against doctors, in November suspended Aladwan from practicing medicine for 15 months in response to complaints filed by the CAA, finding that her words could have an “impact on patient confidence” and discourage people from seeking treatment from her.
Some of Aladwan’s antisemitic statements in the original CAA complaint against her included “Britain is totally occupied by Jewish supremacy” and “I will never condemn the 7th of October,” referring to Hamas’s 2023 invasion of and massacre across southern Israel. She also infamously labeled London’s Royal Free Hospital “a Jewish supremacy cesspit.”
In a July 6, 2025, posting on X, Aladwan clarified her position for those still confused about her activism’s mission, writing, “Let’s make this crystal clear: anti-Zionism means ‘Israel’ has no right to exist. No debates. No exceptions. ‘Israel’ is genocide. Its supporters are genocidal — and that includes over 90% of Jews on earth.”
Aladwan’s antisemitism has served as the iceberg’s tip in UK, signaling a lurking crisis in the country’s system of socialized medicine.
Last year, Prime Minister Keir Starmer called for an urgent review to accelerate regulators seeking to counter hateful medical practitioners. “There are just too many examples, clear examples, of antisemitism that have not been dealt with adequately or effectively,” he said at the time.
The results of the investigation came in this week. UK Health Secretary Wes Streeting announced their planned implementation through a series of reforms.
These challenges of antisemitism manifesting in medical settings have also shown up in South America, Australia, and across Europe.
In January, Argentina’s José de San Martín Hospital suspended Miqueas Martinez Secchi, a resident physician specializing in intensive care, after writing about Jews on X that “instead of performing circumcision, their carotid artery and main artery should be cut from side to side.”
In February, Australian nurses Sarah Abu Lebdeh and Ahmad Rashad Nadir pleaded not guilty after seizing international attention when a video of them threatening to kill Israeli patients went viral.
In the Netherlands last year, police investigated a nurse who threatened to deliver lethal injections to Israeli patients. In Belgium, a doctor listed “Jewish (Israeli)” as a medical problem when treating a 9-year-old. A Belgian-Israeli living in Amsterdam revealed that a nurse in Amsterdam denied her medical care after refusing to remove a pro-Palestine button.
Responding to Aladwan’s arrest, a CAA spokesperson said, “The cycle of repeatedly arresting Dr. Aladwan and her breaching her bail conditions and being re-arrested may finally be broken, as she now faces charges relating to terrorism and other offenses.”
“This is a doctor whose current interim suspension from practice was even in doubt, so pitiful is our healthcare regulation system, and who has been repeatedly arrested and faced effectively no penalty,” the spokesperson added. “This case will now be a real test of English justice, and whether it can be delivered for British Jews.”
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NYPD Details Increased Security Measures for Passover Amid ‘Heightened State of Alert’ Against Terrorism Threats
New York City Police Department (NYPD) vehicles are seen in Brooklyn, New York, United States, on Oct. 13, 2024. Photo: Kyle Mazza via Reuters Connect
The New York Police Department (NYPD) will increase its presence around the city as New Yorkers celebrate the Jewish holiday of Passover next week amid what Police Commissioner Jessica Tisch described on Thursday as the most threatening terrorist landscape of her career.
“In my 18 years in government, which started in counterterrorism, I have not seen a threat environment quite like this one,” Tisch told leaders of the Jewish community who gathered at 1 Police Plaza for the NYPD’s annual pre-Passover security briefing. “It is clear that we will be in a heightened state of alert for the foreseeable future.”
“You will see increased patrols in the vicinity of synagogues and other houses of worship,” NYPD Deputy Commissioner of Intelligence and Counterterrorism Rebecca Weiner said at the security briefing. She added that the NYPD will deploy members of its counterterrorism divisions, critical response command, heavy weapons teams, and K-9 units to “high threat” locations around the city.
The department is also relying on its system of cameras and sensors, monitored by members of the NYPD’s intelligence division, as well as as its international partners in the Middle East to help them with early-warning detection of threats against New Yorkers.
“These teams provide necessary deterrence and target guarding, and they should also provide reassurance that we are everywhere, that we can be omnipresent,” Weiner said. “There will be security measures that you see, and many others that you won’t. As this onslaught of misplaced retaliation, retribution, and hate continues, we will continue to do all in our power to interrupt it.”
In her remarks, Tisch mentioned four terrorist attacks that took place on US soil since the joint US-Israeli military strikes against Iran on Feb. 28. The attacks include a deadly mass shooting at a bar in Austin, Texas, on March 1, in which the gunman wore a shirt featuring the image of the Iranian flag; an ISIS-inspired attempted bombing at an “American’s Against Islamification” protest in Manhattan’s Upper East Side on March 7; a car ramming at a synagogue in Detroit, Michigan, on March 12 by a man whose family has ties to the Hezbollah terrorist organization; and the shooting of a ROTC instructor in Norfolk, Virginia, that same day by a gunman and known terrorist who screamed “Allahu Akbar.”
Tisch also noted attacks in Europe, including the arson attack targeting four Hatzalah vehicles parked outside a synagogue in north London early this week.
“These are perilous times to be sure. I know you feel the stress and anxiety in your synagogues, in your schools or community centers, and even in your own homes. I feel it too,” Tisch said. “But I also know the NYPD is laser-focused on keeping this city safe with one of the most impressive and sophisticated intelligence and counterterrorism operations in the world.”
She said the NYPD is preparing for a “safe and joyful Passover celebration” and talked about uniformed patrols officers being stationed over Passover around synagogues, Jewish schools, and other Jewish sites. “This work we do together is vital because on top of raising our terrorism level, escalating conflict in the Middle East is also fueling antisemitism around the globe and certainly here at home,” she noted.
In the immediate aftermath of the deadly Hamas-led terrorist attack in southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, antisemitic hate crimes in New York City surged 80 percent from Oct. 7 until the end of 2023, according to the police commissioner. By the end of last year, that number began to decline and overall hate crimes decreased by nearly 16 percent. However, since the start of 2026 – following the appointment of New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani — antisemitic crimes, as well as hate crimes overall, are again on the rise, she concluded by saying.