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Why a county in Utah could play a role in Israel’s judicial crisis
(JTA) — Aaron Davidson has never been to Israel. He isn’t Jewish. He began serving in his position, Utah County clerk, just two months ago.
But the policies he oversees in his office in Provo, Utah, could have an impact more than 7,000 miles away — in the halls of Israel’s parliament, the Knesset, in Jerusalem.
That’s because Davidson is the top local official in a county that has, improbably, caused a seismic shift in the way marriages are legally recognized in the Jewish state. An ensuing court battle over the issue — which the Israeli government just lost — could provide added motivation for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to pass controversial judicial reform that has already thrown the country into crisis.
Let’s take a step back and break this down.
How does marriage work in Israel?
Although a large chunk of Israeli Jews are secular, legal marriage in the country is controlled by the Chief Rabbinate, which is haredi Orthodox. In other words, within Israel, the only way for a Jew to get legally married is through an Orthodox ceremony.
That means same-sex marriage, interfaith marriage and non-Orthodox weddings performed in Israel are not recognized by the Israeli government. Also left in limbo are hundreds of thousands of largely Russian-speaking Israelis, who are not Jewish according to traditional Jewish law and are therefore unable to get married in Israel.
But there’s a loophole of sorts: Marriages performed and recognized abroad also get recognized in Israel. So for decades, non-Orthodox Israelis have found a workaround to those restrictions by taking a short flight to Cyprus to tie the knot, or traveling farther afield for their weddings. They then bring their marriage certificate to Israel complete with a stamp of authentication (called an apostille), and voila: legally married.
What does that have to do with Utah?
Starting in 2020, Utah County, Utah, began recognizing marriages performed entirely via videoconference, as long as the officiant or one of the parties was in the county. The county encompasses the area surrounding Provo, which is home to Brigham Young University and has a tech scene. Officials saw the new remote marriage system as a way to make it easier to “execute a permission slip from the government for two consenting adults to get married,” as former County Clerk Amelia Powers Gardner told The New York Times,
The innovation coincided with the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, and beginning later that year, Israelis realized they could now get legally married in Utah without having to leave Israel — in fact, without having to leave their living rooms. Since 2020, Davidson estimates that more than 1,000 Israelis have taken advantage of the remote weddings. The fees for the remote wedding total a maximum of $155.
“The technology now opens a window of opportunity for thousands of Israeli couples every year to quickly, simply, cheaply gain civil marriage without leaving their homes,” said Rabbi Uri Regev, CEO of Hiddush, an Israeli organization that advocates for religious pluralism. “That in and of itself is a real breakthrough.”
(Israelis aren’t the only foreign nationals to use the county’s remote wedding option. It has also been a boon for gay couples from China.)
How have Israeli officials responded?
They are not happy about it. The acting Israeli interior minister, Michael Malchieli, is a member of the haredi Orthodox Shas party, and had refused to recognize the Utah marriage certificates, as did a predecessor of his, arguing that the marriages took place in Israel. A predecessor of his had also refused to recognize the certificates, but last year, a court ruled that the government must recognize the Utah marriages.
That decision made its way to Israel’s Supreme Court which, on Tuesday, ruled unanimously in favor of the married couples. Henceforth, their marriages will officially be seen as valid in Israel. The court made a similar decision in 2006 that compelled the state to recognize same-sex marriages performed abroad.
“It is the duty of the [Israeli] registrar to refrain from making decisions regarding the validity or invalidity of the marriages themselves,” the court wrote in a summary of its decision on Tuesday. “When the registrar is presented with a proper public document, he must, as a rule, register it accordingly and refrain from making decisions regarding complicated legal matters.”
How is this related to Israel’s current crisis?
Israel is currently in the throes of a raucous national debate over legislation being pushed by Netanyahu’s government that would effectively sap the Supreme Court of much of its power. One bill would allow a simple majority of Israeli lawmakers to override court decisions, meaning they could negate decisions like the one handed down this week.
Proponents of the court reform say the legislation will allow Israeli law to more effectively represent the will of the country’s right-wing majority. Another Shas lawmaker, Moshe Arbel, cited Tuesday’s decision as a reason why the court reform is urgent.
“The high court, in another political step, proved once again how necessary the judicial reform is,” Arbel said, according to the Israeli publication Ynet. The decision, he said, works to “erase the Jewish identity of the state.”
How do officials in Utah feel?
Initially, it seemed Davidson, the county clerk, might do away with the virtual marriages. His campaign website said that “This online option devalues the union of a marriage and Utah County should not be the entity that facilitates the marginalization of marriage.”
But since taking office, he told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, he has changed his mind. His concern, he said, was that abusers could take advantage of the virtual weddings to facilitate underage marriage and human trafficking. Now he realizes that that has not been an issue, and he is working on upgrading the county’s facial recognition software to forestall that possibility.
“It doesn’t seem like there’s any controversial marriages that want to happen in Israel, so I’m totally open in keeping that open and alive,” he said. “We’re trying to avoid any hint of child marriages or forced marriages or trafficking. We want to make sure that we know who it is that’s getting married before we perform the marriage online.”
Alex Shapiro, the executive director of the United Jewish Federation of Utah, is likewise happy about the Supreme Court decision. “[I] fully stand behind the decision to make civil marriage available to all citizens,” Shapiro told JTA. “I’m further pleased that the state of Utah can play a role in these unions without the challenge of couples needing to travel out of the county to be married.”
Davidson’s county, however, has few Jews and a politically conservative population. It is the home of the flagship school of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, which opposes same-sex marriage.
Davidson, who is a member of the LDS church, said that he has heard a few objections from residents about facilitating same-sex marriages abroad. But he told JTA that he feels the virtual marriages uphold another core conservative tenet: limited government.
“Government restricts who can live where, in what country, and I kind of feel the same thing about marriage,” he said. “Why do I feel like I have the power to prevent a couple — whether same-sex or traditional — [from] being able to be happy with their life, and do what they want? That’s kind of been a guiding principle: Why should I have the power to control the happiness of somebody else?”
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The post Why a county in Utah could play a role in Israel’s judicial crisis appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Board of Peace Members Have Pledged More Than $5 billion for Gaza, Trump Says
A drone view shows the destruction in a residential neighborhood, after the withdrawal of the Israeli forces from the area, amid a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas in Gaza, in Gaza City, October 21, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Dawoud Abu Alkas/File Photo
US President Donald Trump said Board of Peace member states will announce at an upcoming meeting on Thursday a pledge of more than $5 billion for reconstruction and humanitarian efforts in Gaza.
In a post on Truth Social on Sunday, Trump wrote that member states have also committed thousands of personnel toward a U.N.-authorized stabilization force and local police in the Palestinian enclave.
The US president said Thursday’s gathering, the first official meeting of the group, will take place at the Donald J. Trump Institute of Peace, which the State Department recently renamed after the president. Delegations from more than 20 countries, including heads of state, are expected to attend.
The board’s creation was endorsed by a United Nations Security Council resolution as part of the Trump administration’s plan to end the war between Israel and Palestinian Islamist group Hamas in Gaza.
Israel and Hamas agreed to the plan last year with a ceasefire officially taking effect in October, although both sides have accused each other repeatedly of violating the ceasefire. According to Gaza’s Health Ministry, more than 590 Palestinians have been killed by Israeli troops in the territory since the ceasefire began. Israel has said four of its soldiers have been killed by Palestinian militants in the same period.
While regional Middle East powers including Turkey, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Qatar and Israel – as well as emerging nations such as Indonesia – have joined the board, global powers and traditional Western US allies have been more cautious.
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Why a forgotten teacher’s grave became a Jewish pilgrimage site
Along Britton Road in Rochester, New York, a brick gatehouse sits across from ordinary homes. Beyond it lies Britton Road Cemetery, its grounds divided into family plots and sections claimed over time by Orthodox congregations and fraternal associations, past and present. Names like Anshe Polen, Beth Hakneses Hachodosh, B’nai Israel, and various Jewish fraternal organizations are found here.
On the east side of the cemetery, a modest gray headstone draws visitors who do not personally know the man buried there, who were never taught his name in school, and who claim no personal connection to his life. Some leave notes. Some light candles in a small metal box set nearby. Others whisper prayers and stand for a moment before going. They come because they believe holiness can be found here.
The grave belongs to Rabbi Yechiel Meir Burgeman, a Polish-born teacher who died in 1938. He did not lead a major congregation or leave behind an institution that bears his name. And yet, nearly a century after his death, people still visit.
Over time, Burgeman has come to be remembered as a tzaddik nistar, a hidden righteous person, whose holiness is known through their teaching and daily life rather than through any title or position. His grave has become a place of intercession. People come to pray for healing, for help in times of uncertainty, and for the hope of marriage. What endures here is not an individual’s biography so much as a practice: the belief that a life lived with integrity can continue to shape devotion, even after the body has been laid to rest.
In life, Burgeman was not known as a miracle worker or a public figure. He was a melamed, a teacher of children, living plainly among other Jewish immigrants in Rochester’s Jewish center in the early decades of the 20th century. At one point, he was dismissed from a teaching post for refusing to soften his instruction. He later opened his own cheder, or schoolroom. There was no congregation to inherit his name, no institution to archive his papers. When he died, he was buried in an ordinary way at Britton Road Cemetery, one grave among many.
What followed was not immediate.
Remembered in return
The meaning attached to Burgeman’s resting place accumulated slowly. Stories began to circulate. People spoke of his kindness, his discipline, his integrity. Over time, visitors came. The grave became a place not of answers, but of belief. For generations, this turning toward the dead has taken this same form. It is not worship. It is proximity. A way of standing near those believed to have lived rightly, and asking that their merit might still matter.
In Jewish tradition, prayer at a grave is a reflection on those believed to have lived with righteousness, asking that their merit accompany the living in moments of need. Psalms are traditionally recited. Words are often spoken quietly.
I have done something similar too. Years ago, before I converted to Judaism and before I had the means to travel, I sent a written prayer through a Chabad service that delivers letters to the grave of the Lubavitcher Rebbe in New York. Someone else carried it. I cannot say with absolute certainty what happened because of it. Only that the practice itself made space for hope that I was seen, and that a prayer was later answered in ways that shaped my life and deepened my understanding of Judaism.
Burgeman’s grave functions in a similar register, though without any institutional frame. People come not because his name is widely known, but because the story has endured. Over time, that story gathered details. The most persistent involves a dog said to have escorted Jewish children to Burgeman’s cheder so they would not be harassed along the way by other youths. The dog then stood watch until they were ready to return home. The versions differ. Some are reverent. Some are playful. Some verge on the miraculous. The story endures because it names something children needed: care, in a world that could be frightening.
In recent decades, Burgeman’s afterlife has taken on a digital form. His name surfaces in comment threads and genealogical forums, passed along by people who never met him and are not always sure how they are connected. Spellings are debated. Dates are corrected. A descendant appears. A former student’s grandchild adds a fragment. Someone asks whether this is the same man their grandmother spoke of. No single account settles the matter. Instead, memory gathers. What once traveled by word of mouth now moves through hyperlinks.
The internet allows fragments to remain visible. Burgeman’s story survives not because it was officially recorded, but because enough people cared to remember it. In this way, his legacy resembles the man himself: quiet, unadorned, sustained by actions rather than declaration.
This story does not offer certainty. It is about remembering a life and asking if we might still learn from it and if, perhaps, it can bring us closer to faith. Burgeman left no grand monument. He left descendants. A grave. A life of Jewish values that continues to teach.
Burgeman did not seek recognition in life. After death, he became something else: a teacher still teaching, not through words, but through the way people continue to act on his memory. That is the lesson. Not any miracle. Not any legend. The quiet insistence that a life lived with integrity does not end when the casket is placed into the earth.
Some graves are instructions.
This one still asks something of us.
The post Why a forgotten teacher’s grave became a Jewish pilgrimage site appeared first on The Forward.
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Turkey Sends Drilling Ship to Somalia in Major Push for Energy Independence
Turkish President Tayyip Erdogan speaks during a ceremony for the handover of new vehicles to the gendarmerie and police forces in Istanbul, Turkey, Nov. 28, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Murad Sezer
i24 News – Turkey has dispatched a drilling vessel to Somalia to begin offshore oil exploration, marking what officials describe as a historic step in Ankara’s drive to strengthen energy security and reduce reliance on imports.
Turkish Minister of Energy and Natural Resources Alparslan Bayraktar announced that the drilling ship Çagri Bey is set to sail from the port of Taşucu in southern Turkey, heading toward Somali territorial waters.
The vessel will pass through the Strait of Gibraltar and around the coast of southern Africa before reaching its destination, with drilling operations expected to begin in April or May.
Bayraktar described the mission as a “historic” milestone, saying it reflects Turkey’s long-term strategy to enhance national energy security and move closer to self-sufficiency.
The operation will be protected by the Turkish Naval Forces, which will deploy several naval units to secure both the vessel’s route and the drilling area in the Gulf of Aden and the Arabian Sea. The security arrangements fall under existing cooperation agreements between Ankara and Somalia.
The move aligns with a broader vision promoted by President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, aimed at reducing Turkey’s dependence on foreign energy supplies, boosting domestic production, and shielding the economy from external pressures.
Bayraktar said Turkey is also working to double its natural gas output in the Black Sea this year, while continuing offshore exploration along its northern coastline. In parallel, Ankara is preparing to bring its first nuclear reactor online at the Akkuyu Nuclear Power Plant, which is expected to begin generating electricity soon and eventually supply about 10% of the country’s energy needs.
The current drilling effort is based on survey data collected last year and forms part of Ankara’s wider plan to expand its energy exploration activities both regionally and internationally.