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Bosnian Jews mourn Moris Albahari, one of Sarajevo’s last Ladino speakers
(JTA) — Moris Albahari, a Holocaust survivor, former partisan fighter and one of the last Ladino speakers in Bosnia and Herzegovina’s dwindling Jewish community, passed away at the age of 93 last month.
It is believed that he was one of four native Ladino speakers remaining in a country where the Judeo-Spanish language once flourished and was spoken by luminaries like Flory Jagoda, the grande dame of Ladino song, and Laura Bohoretta, the founder of a uniquely Sephardic feminist movement in Bosnia.
Bosnia’s small Jewish community — with barely 900 members throughout the country, 500 of whom live in Sarajevo — are mourning the loss of a living link to communal memory as well as a dear friend.
“From you, uncle Moco, I learned a lot about Judaism, about life, about nature and especially about people. About both the good and the evil,” Igor Kožemjakin, the cantor of the Sarajevo Jewish community, wrote in a memorial post on Facebook, referring to Moris as “Čika,” or uncle, a term of endearment in Bosnian.
“It is a terrible loss, especially for Sarajevo. Our community is very small, especially after the Holocaust,” Eliezer Papo, a Sarajevo-born Jew and scholar of Ladino language and literature at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “We’re not speaking just in terms of prominent members of the community, we’re speaking in terms of family members. Everyone is like a family member.”
When Albahari was growing up in the 1930s, the Jewish community of his native Sarajevo numbered over 12,000. Jews made up more than a fifth of the city and it was one of the most important centers of Jewish life in the western Balkans.
In his youth, the city was part of what was then the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. Formed out of the borderlands between the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires, it was a multiethnic state composed of Croats, Serbs, Bosniaks, Slovenians, Macedonians, Hungarians, Albanians and more. Among them were many Jewish communities both Ashkenazi and Sephardic.
The unique mix of of Muslim, Jewish, Catholic and Orthodox Christian communities, with their mosques, synagogues and churches defining Sarajevo’s skyline, earned the city the nickname “Little Jerusalem.”
Speaking in a 2015 documentary made by American researchers, “Saved by Language,” Albahari explained that his family traced their roots back to Cordoba before the Spanish Inquisition, and through Venice, before settling in what would become Bosnia when it was part of the Ottoman Empire.
“We didn’t want to ‘just’ write an article about Moris or Sarajevo; we wanted [the audience] to see what we saw and hear what we heard,” Brian Kirschen, professor of Ladino at Binghamton University, who worked on the documentary with author Susanna Zaraysky, told JTA. “This resulted in a grassroots initiative to create the documentary.”
In the film, Albahari takes the researchers and their viewers on a tour through what was Jewish Sarajevo, giving glimpses of the thriving Ladino speaking community in which he was raised and explaining how ithe language would save him many times, when the Nazis and their Croat allies, the Ustaša, came to shatter it.
“In sharing your story of survival during the Holocaust, you opened doors that remained closed for decades,” Kirschen said in a memorial post on Facebook. “Some of your stories were even new to members of your family, but each survivor has their own timeline. While you experienced great pain during your life, from your story, we also learn about moments of kindness and heroism. Through your story, you also taught us about the power of language.”
Albahari wasn’t yet a teenager when, in 1941, Nazi Germany and Mussolini’s Italy invaded Yugoslavia. The Nazis occupied the eastern portion of the country, including what is now Serbia, while they raised up a Croat fascist party, known as the Ustaša, to administer the newly formed “Independent State of Croatia” — often known by its Serbo-Croatian initials, NDH — in the western regions that included the modern-day Bosnia and Herzegovina.
The Ustaša collaborated in the Nazis’ genocidal plans for Europe’s Jewish and Roma comunities, and they had genocidal designs of their own for the Orthodox Serb communities living in the NDH.
To that end they established the Jasenovac concentration camp, which would become known as the Auschwitz of the Balkans. By the war’s end it had become the third largest concentration camp in Europe, and behind its walls the overwhelming majority of Sarajevo’s Jews — at least 10,000 — were massacred. Including Serbs, Jews, Roma and political dissidents of Croat or Muslim Bosniak background, as many as 100,000 people were killed in Jasenovac.
Albahari was 11 years old when the Ustaša came to deport him and his large family to Jasenovac. A former teacher working as an Ustaša guard in the town of Drvar, where the train stopped, warned Albahari’s father, David, about their destination, and he was able to help his son escape from the train.
The teacher helped guide the young Moris to an Italian soldier named Lino Marchione who was secretly helping Jews.
This was the first case when Albahari’s Ladino came in handy. Ladino is largely based on medieval Spanish, with a mixture of Hebrew, Aramaic, Turkish and other languages mixed in. For speakers of Serbo-Croatian, a Slavic language, it’s entirely incomprehensible. But for a speaker of another Romance language such as Italian, it’s not such a stretch to understand, and Moris was able to converse with his Italian savior.
With his family gone, he was taken in by a Serb family, and changed his name to Milan Adamovic to hide his Jewish identity. Still, by 1942, it became clear that neither as Adamovic nor Albahari would he be safe in the town. So he fled to the mountains.
“If there was [a battle] I took clothes from a dead soldier to wear, I lived like a wolf in the mountains, you know. Visiting villages [asking for something] to give me for eating, it was a terrible time,” Albahari recalled in “Saved By Language.”
He would only feel safe in villages under the control of partisan forces. Yugoslavia was the only country in Europe to be liberated from Nazi rule by its own grassroots resistance.
During his time in the mountains, Albahari joined up with a partisan unit aligned with the movement of Josip Broz Tito, who would lead Communist Yugoslavia after the war. By the war’s end, Tito’s partisans numbered over 80,000 and included more than 6,000 Jews, many in prominent positions, such as Moša Pijade, who would go on to serve as vice president of the Yugoslav parliament after the war.
Moris was out on patrol as a partisan when he came upon a group of American and British paratroopers. They raised their weapons at him, thinking he was an enemy. Moris tried to communicate, but he spoke no English.
When he asked the soldiers if they spoke German or Italian, they shook their heads. When he asked about Spanish, one perked up: a Hispanic-American soldier by the name of David Garijo.
In Ladino, Alabahari was able to explain that he was not an enemy but could lead them to a nearby partisan camp where they would be safe.
“Ladino saved my life in the war,” Albahari recalled in the documentary.
At the partisan camp, Morris received even bigger news: The family that he had assumed had all perished after he left the train were in fact alive. The former school teacher and Ustaša guard who had warned his father had met them at the next train junction to help them escape. Furthermore, around half of the Jews in the train car were able to escape using the same hole Moris used during his initial escape.
Ultimately the family all survived the war, unlike so many other Jews of Sarajevo.
“Where is Samuel, where is Dudo, where is Gedala? They never came back,” Albahari lamented, listing missing neighbors while walking through Sarajevo’s old Jewish neighborhood in the documentary. “Maybe we are happy because we are alive after the Second World War, but also unlikely because every day we must cry for these dead people.”
When Moris returned to Sarajevo, it was an entirely different place from the bustling Jewish community he had once known.
Gone was the sound of Ladino in the streets and alleyways of Bascarsija, the market district where so many of Sarajevo’s Jews had once lived. Gone were the synagogues — only one of the many synagogues that had existed before WWII still functions. Gone was the robust Jewish life that was once a central part of Sarajevo.
Moris was still only 14 by the war’s end, so he returned to school and ultimately graduated at the top of his class. He became a pilot and later director of the Sarajevo Airport.
In this new world, Ladino was spoken, if at all, only in the home.
“Always, when I hear Spanish, I hear my father and mother, and all the synagogues, prayers in Ladino and rabbis who spoke Ladino. But that is in the past,” Albahari says in “Saved by Language.”
Eliezer Papo, who is a generation younger than Albahari, recalled that in his youth Ladino had long been reduced to a language of secrets.
“Mostly, Ladino was used when the elders didn’t want youngsters to understand,” Papo said.
Only later, in the 1980s, did community members realize what was being lost and begin to gather to maintain their language, recount what Jewish Sarajevo had been like and share their wartime stories of survival.
“He never took his story to the places of revenge, but he took it and his life experience to a place of ‘Never again,’ not just ‘Never again for Jews’, but never again for anybody,” said Papo.
Like many Sarajevans, World War II would not be the last major conflict Albahari would see. Less than 40 years later, war would once again come to Sarajevo with the break-up of Yugoslavia.
From 1992-1995 the city remained under constant siege by Bosnian Serb forces looking to break away from what would become Bosnia and Herzegovina. Moris joined with other Jews of Sarajevo in working to provide aid to their fellow Sarajevans during the harsh period.
Sarajevo’s synagogue was turned into a shelter and a soup kitchen. The community ran a network of underground pharmacies and a message service allowing Sarajevans to get word to family and friends outside of the city during what became the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern warfare.
“Moris was an inspirational persona to many members of Jewish community and La Benevolencija,” Vlado Anderle, the current president of that local Jewish humanitarian organization told JTA. “He was a man with such inviting spirit and energy.”
When the dust settled on the breakup of Yugoslavia, and the new Bosnian state rose from its ashes, Moris found himself once again in a new role.
During the communist era in Yugoslavia, religious activity was discouraged. Sarajevo’s Jews emphasized the ethnic character of Jewish culture rather than the religious one. In the new Bosnia and Herzegovina, that was no longer true. So the community worked to reconnect with their religious identity as well.
“Everybody looked up to the people who had Jewish upbringing before the Second World War,” Papo recalled. “This doesn’t mean that they were rabbis. Just that they knew it better than anyone else.”
Moris, whose formal Jewish education ended in his preteen years, was appointed president of the community’s religious committee.
As such it often fell on him to represent Judaism to the Bosnian society at large, often in a very creative way, according to Papo, who in addition to being a scholar of Ladino is ordained as a rabbi and serves the Sarajevo community as a rabbi-at-large from Israel.
In one case, while being interviewed on a major Bosnian television station, Moris was asked why Jews cover their head with a kippah or other hat during prayer. Moris’ response, or rather creative interpretation, as Papo called it, was made up on the spot.
Moris’ interpretation began with the ancient temple in Jerusalem where Jews once had to fully immerse in a ritual bath before entering.
“Since the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed it was reduced to washing the uncovered parts of the body only, before entering a synagogue, similarly to Muslims: the feet, the head, the hands…” Papo recalled him saying. But in Europe, as Moris’ answer went, they began to cover more and more of their body. “In Europe they started wearing shoes, so the feet were not uncovered anymore, and then they started wearing a hat, not to have to wash their head… you know it’s Europe, one could catch a cold if going out with wet hair…”
“A few months later, I came to Sarajevo, and found that everyone has heard this explanation and is talking about it, not just people in the community, but in the street,” Papo said. “And you know, I let it pass, I couldn’t correct them, it was just so beautiful. That was his genius.”
“Identity is all about telling stories. And Moris was one of the great storytellers of the community,” Papo added. And through his stories he expressed an identity which was “made of the same contradictions that Sephardic Judaism is made of, that Sarajevo is made of, that Bosnia and Herzegovina is made and that Yugoslavia was and is made of and that the Balkans are made of.”
Albahari is survived by his wife and a son.
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Democratic senators seek to remove US-Israel defense cooperation from spending bill
(JTA) — A group of 12 senators who are Democratic or caucus with the Democrats are lobbying against expanded defense cooperation between the United States and Israel, saying the Netanyahu government’s policies, particularly in Gaza and the West Bank, run counter to U.S. interests.
In a letter to congressional leadership and ranking committee members led by Sen. Chris Van Hollen of Maryland, the lawmakers argued that the 2027 National Defense Authorization Act, as currently written, would “further entrench concerning aspects of the U.S.-Israel defense and intelligence relationship at a time when the Israeli government’s actions are increasingly undermining U.S. interests and values.”
A section of the defense bill would require the secretary of defense to designate an “executive agent responsible for synchronizing cooperative efforts between the United States and Israel, including bilateral defense technology research, development, testing, evaluation, integration, and industrial cooperation.”
Such provisions “would constrain the Administration’s ability” to act independently and “threaten U.S. national security interests by handing Israel leverage over American weapons systems and military technology,” the democratic lawmakers warned, adding that the bill would also “create long-term dependencies by embedding Israeli technology into the U.S. defense industrial base that could make future policy changes costly or difficult to implement.”
The letter — which was signed by Democratic Sens. Elizabeth Warren of Massachusetts and Tammy Duckworth of Illinois and Independent Sen. Bernie Sanders of Vermont, among others — is the initiative of Van Hollen, who has emerged as one of Israel’s fiercest critics in Congress and recently called to “end the American taxpayer blank check to the government of Israel.”
His name has also been mentioned as a possible challenger to Schumer as Senate Majority Leader when the new Congress starts in early January.
The letter comes just over a week after President Donald Trump announced that the U.S. would halt billions of dollars in annual aid to Israel by the end of 2026, potentially ending decades of military funding for one of America’s closest allies in the Middle East.
The annual $3.8 billion sum is mostly spent in the U.S. to purchase weapon components or weapons systems manufactured in U.S. factories. U.S. Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee noted the spending has created jobs in the United States. A memorandum of understanding between the two countries calls for that level of aid to continue through 2028.
However, some U.S. critics have dismissed Trump’s statement as a dodge, noting that while there is growing support for cutting defense aid to Israel, there has also been a push among some lawmakers to more tightly integrate the two countries’ defense establishments.
To do this “would be unwise, especially as the Government of Israel continues to pursue policies in Gaza, the West Bank and other parts of the region that are inconsistent with U.S. interests and values,” the Democratic senators warned on Tuesday, arguing that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu had “openly stated that such an initiative was his idea.”
“The intention behind this is clear: to move U.S. security assistance governed through more traditional pathways, like Foreign Military Financing and arm sales, to more opaque, less discernible avenues through defense acquisitions and programs of record that reduce transparency, as well as increase Israel’s leverage over the United States and our dependency on Israeli technology,” according to the letter..
J Street, the liberal Jewish Middle East advocacy group, thanked Van Hollen for his letter in a post on X, writing that there should be “no deepening of our military relationship with Israel unless they comply with the Gaza peace agreement, end settler violence and reverse their de facto annexation of the West Bank.”
J Street earlier this week declared that the U.S. “needs a fundamental reset of its approach to the Middle East,” which would end offensive arms sales “until it is confirmed that Israel is no longer violating U.S. laws and values.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Democratic senators seek to remove US-Israel defense cooperation from spending bill appeared first on The Forward.
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Non-Jews who follow Jewish law gather in Israel for first international Noahide congress
(JTA) — Gilbert Meñoza spent decades as a Christian pastor in the Philippines before his study of the Hebrew Bible led him to reject the New Testament and embrace the Noahide faith.
Meñoza said most of his followers had embraced his rejection of Christianity, although a small contingent deserted him after he began declaring that the New Testament was false and that “we no longer believe that Yeshua was the Messiah,” he said, using the Hebrew name for Jesus.
Last week, he joined dozens of fellow Noahides from around the world in Israel, part of a movement of non-Jews who follow Jewish religious teachings without converting to Judaism.
The gathering, billed as the First International Congress of Noahides, was organized by Brit Olam, or Noahide World Center, a Jerusalem-based organization that claims thousands of followers in more than 70 countries. Many study online or belong to small local communities, often with limited contact with other Noahides.
The five-day visit by more than 60 delegates from 22 countries included tours of biblical sites in the West Bank, a meeting with President Isaac Herzog and, in a nod to Theodor Herzl’s First Zionist Congress, the signing of a founding scroll of their own.
Unlike converts to Judaism, Noahides retain their non-Jewish identities while accepting the Hebrew Bible as a source of religious and moral guidance. Also known as B’nai Noah, the name Noahide is derived from the biblical account of God’s covenant with Noah following the flood. In Jewish tradition, that covenant established seven universal obligations, including the creation of a justice system and bans on murder, theft, idolatry, blasphemy, sexual immorality and consuming flesh taken from a living animal.
Many, like Meñoza, come from Christian backgrounds, although others have arrived at their beliefs through independent religious study.
Meñoza began studying with rabbis online several years ago, eventually completing a three-year religious leadership course alongside more than 20 members of his community. He now reaches a wider audience through radio and television broadcasts.
The congress sought to bring those communities together under a formal global structure. At a ceremony attended by Jerusalem Mayor Moshe Lion, delegates signed a Scroll of the Noahide Covenant, a Hebrew declaration of their commitment to the people of Israel and the Torah. Organizers also established an international court of rabbis from Brit Olam offering religious guidance to Noahide communities worldwide, and said in a statement that the congress “carries the blessings of Israel’s chief rabbis.”
For centuries, the Seven Laws of Noah remained largely a matter of Jewish religious teaching rather than an organized effort to reach non-Jews. But Rabbi Oury Cherki, president of Brit Olam, believes Israel’s establishment spurred the delivery of those teachings to a wider international audience. Cherki hopes the Jerusalem congress will do for Noahides what Herzl’s 1897 gathering in Basel did for Zionism: transform a shared set of beliefs and aspirations into an organized international movement.
“Zionism achieved the material liberation of the Jewish people,” Cherki said, arguing that the next frontier must include building “a healthy connection with the outside world.”
Steven Lee Rachel, from Montreal, said he didn’t come from a “hardcore” Christian background and that his family and friends have been overwhelmingly supportive of his decision to become a Noahide.
“Becoming a Noahide has changed my everyday life for the better in almost every way, in terms of my spiritual life, my personal life, career as well, in terms of how I’ve been able to use that identity to build relationships in different industries,” he said.
Three years ago, Rachel married fellow Noahide Camila Henriquez in a ceremony in Montreal co-officiated by Rabbi Yisroel Bernath, director of the local Chabad, and Aleeza Ben Shalom, the matchmaker featured in Netflix’s Jewish Matchmaking.
Ben Shalom said she formed a “beautiful connection” with the bride after meeting her. Co-officiating the ceremony fulfilled a longstanding ambition she had been unable to pursue at Orthodox Jewish weddings, which are officiated by male rabbis.
“It was a dream come true,” she said.
The couple exchanged vows beneath a chuppah, or wedding canopy, pledging to build their home according to the Seven Laws of Noah. They also signed a marriage contract and broke a glass. Ben Shalom said the overwhelming majority of guests were not Jewish.
“It was truly a kiddush Hashem,” she said, using the Hebrew term for sanctifying God’s name.
Bernath described the ceremony as highly unusual, saying he was unaware of any precedent for a rabbi officiating at a Noahide wedding.
Eliezer Vicente Yarid, a Cuban who now lives in the United States, spent years helping others reconnect with their Jewish ancestry in a country where religious life had long been restricted, but ultimately chose not to convert to Judaism himself.
Yarid said he was 11 when his grandfather first told him their family descended from Bnei Anusim, Jews who had been forced to convert to Christianity during the Spanish and Portuguese Inquisitions.
“I didn’t understand what he was saying to me,” he said.
But by his mid-teens, his family had begun observing Jewish religious practices at home. In 2000, he and his parents established a Bnei Anusim community to help others reconnect with their Jewish heritage. Yarid initially sought to convert himself and later helped arrange visits by a rabbinical court to Cuba, where some community members underwent conversion.
But when an opportunity to convert arose after his move to the U.S., Yarid decided against it, saying he felt it was unfair to push his family into it.
He now follows the Seven Laws of Noah with his wife and son, while continuing to maintain ties with communities in Cuba, where he said he had also taught Noahide principles to people who had not converted.
The congress offered delegates practical guidance on building Noahide communities and strengthening their ties with Israeli rabbis.
“Israel is the focus of the world’s attention, for better or worse,” Rabbi Chaim Goldberg, chief executive of Brit Olam, said in a statement. “Noahides see the children of Israel, the people of the Bible, coming back to life in the modern age.”
Meñoza hopes to establish permanent institutions and overcome challenges facing Noahides back home in the Philippines. His community, for example, is raising money to purchase land for a cemetery because local burial procedures, he said, have made it difficult to avoid embalming, which conflicts with Torah practices.
“We want the Noahide community in every city where we work to have its own land, its own building, and its own fellowship center, with a beit midrash where they can learn together,” he said, using the Hebrew term for a religious study hall.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Non-Jews who follow Jewish law gather in Israel for first international Noahide congress appeared first on The Forward.
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This year’s Hanukkah books serve up golems, holiday magic and dinosaurs
(JTA) — From a mischievous clay golem to a ring-tailed lemur who refuses to taste a latke, this year’s crop of Hanukkah books offers something to delight young readers of all ages.
The new titles range from lighthearted tales of family celebrations to the poignant, timely story of the Jews of Mariupol, Ukraine and the miraculous survival of the city’s menorah. Families across the diverse Jewish spectrum will find something to enjoy.
“Applesauce on Top”
Lina Schwarz; illustrated by Yuko Jones
PJ Library; ages 6 months–2
In this sweet rhyming board book, a little boy and his grandmother cook latkes and applesauce, counting apples and potatoes as they get ready to celebrate Hanukkah with their family. This new title from PJ Library will be distributed to 1-year-olds.
“I Will NOT Eat Latkes!”
Martha Seif Simpson; illustrated by Lisa Hunt
Apples & Honey Press; ages 4–6
In this lighthearted story, two animal pals celebrate Hanukkah together. Nosh, a koala, tries to persuade Potchky, a ring-tailed lemur, to taste a fried latke. Potchky, in a nod to Dr. Seuss’s “Green Eggs and Ham,” refuses, declaring that he only likes potato chips. As the story unfolds, kids hear the story of Hanukkah and the brave Maccabees. Finally, Potchky finds his courage and takes a bite — and loves the latkes.
“Charley and Seymour’s Hanukkah Miracle”
Melody Howard Ritt; illustrated by Nia Gould
Kar-Ben Publishing; ages 4–8
In this fun-filled Hanukkah tale, best friends Charley Chipmunk and Seymour Squirrel love their tradition of celebrating Hanukkah together. Seymour fries the latkes and asks Charley to bring the menorah and candles. But uh-oh: Charley remembers the menorah but forgets the candles. His backpack overflows with all kinds of things that begin with the letter “c,” even cantaloupe. But no candles. Seymour comes to the rescue, using the oil from frying latkes to kindle the menorah — just like in the Hanukkah story. This delightful book is now available in paperback through PJ Library.
“Hanukkah Night at the Construction Site”
Sherri Mandell; illustrated by Viviana Garofoli
Apples & Honey Press; ages 2–3
Toddlers who love trucks will be gleeful when the Hanukkah truck rolls into town in this latest addition to the popular Construction Site series. The entourage includes a large tractor carrying a large clay menorah, a mixer and excavator that serve latkes, chocolate coins, fried jelly doughnuts and gifts, and even a band. The back pages list all the types of trucks.
“Hear Me Roar! I’m a HANUKKAHsaur”
Naomi Gruer; illustrated by Mel Zohar
Kalaniot Books; ages 4–7
Miles is a young dinosaur enthusiast. On the first night of Hanukkah, his family doesn’t have the party Miles had hoped for, but he’s excited to put on his bright green dinosaur costume and roar as loudly as he can. Each night, Miles the dinosaur tries to help celebrate Hanukkah. When things go wrong and he makes a mess in the kitchen or drops things, his family encourages him to try again. On the last night, to his delight, his family throws a big Hanukkah party, with latkes, storytelling and sufganiyot, and all his friends. Zohar’s illustrations portray a diverse, multicultural celebration, including a child in a wheelchair.
“Harriet Hubbard and the Sold Out Hanukkah”
Bonnie Grubman; illustrated by Noa Kelner
Kar-Ben Publishing; ages 2–8
In this zany rhyming adventure, feisty Harriet sets out to her local market to buy all the fixings for a Hanukkah party. But all the shelves are bare — no potatoes for latkes, no chocolate gelt and no sufganiyot. She goes home disappointed but eager to set her table with some dates and raisins. To her surprise, her diverse group of friends arrives bearing everything needed for a festive Hanukkah party, including latkes and sweets. They sing and dance under the glow of the Hanukkah menorah.
“Mrs. Claus’s Noodle Kugel”
Janie Emaus; illustrated by Bryan Langdo
Sky Pony Publishing; ages 3–8
Interfaith families will welcome this addition to their family’s library. Two friends, Anna and Michael, get a letter from Mrs. Claus saying that Santa loved their latkes last Hanukkah and asking them to send the recipe. But the two sets of grandfathers have a different idea, each urging their grandkids to cook the other grandfather’s recipe — one for noodle kugel and one for Italian fettuccine noodles. The magical Mrs. Claus arrives on the scene, creating mayhem in the kitchen, with noodles flying out of the pot and Yiddish expressions sprinkled throughout. A team of elves gets things in order, and the sweet noodle kugel is a success. Kids will laugh out loud.
“Golem, Golem, Golem: Or How Hanukkah Was Saved”
Richard Ho; illustrated by Carmel Ben Ami
Roaring Brook Press; ages 3–6
A young boy turns his clay dreidel into a clay golem, the ancient Jewish mythical figure who acts as the Jews’protector when it isn’t getting into trouble. This boy’s golem causes more good-natured mischief, making a mess and eating all the Hanukkah treats. But trouble strikes when the golem accidentally breaks the family’s beautiful menorah. In a magical turn of events, the golem finds a way to make things right — and disappears. The family celebrates under the glow of their menorah. Lively illustrations depict a multicultural family.
“The Miracle Menorah of Mariupol”
Nancy Churnin; illustrated by Marissa Moss
Creston Books LLC; ages 7–11
In this true, poignant story set in modern-day Ukraine, we learn that for years the Jews of Mariupol gathered outdoors around the synagogue’s glistening golden menorah to retell the story of Hanukkah and the miracle of the oil. In the spring of 2022, to everyone’s horror, the beloved tradition came to an end with the Russian invasion. Andrei, a brave young boy, discovered that while the synagogue was destroyed in the bombing, the menorah had miraculously survived. Andrei cleaned the soot off the menorah and contacted the rabbi, who was in Israel for medical treatment. With the rabbi’s encouragement, Andrei gathered the city’s Jews who had not fled. Together, they lit the menorah, sang the blessings and found a deeper meaning in the Hanukkah miracle. At the book’s end, Rabbi Mendel Cohen recalls the tragic events and expresses gratitude for the young boy’s courage.
“Sharing the Light: A Hanukkah Story”
Jodie Sadowsky; photography by Alejandra Martinez
Lovery, Inc. ages 1 and up
Wren and her younger brother Rory discover ways to celebrate Hanukkah together, despite some light-hearted sibling rivalry. They cook a family recipe for latkes and enjoy a festive holiday.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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