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Dramatic stories of survival, endurance and escape reign as Ukrainian Jews mark 1 year of war
(JTA) — Most of the passengers on the flight from Chisinua, Moldova, to Tel Aviv earlier this month were subdued.
Some had just witnessed scene after scene of hardship on a tour of war-torn Ukraine organized by the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews. Others, about 90 in all, were Ukrainians in the process of moving permanently to Israel, talking in hushed tones about being on a plane for the first time, their uncertain future and the loved ones they left behind.
Alexei Shkurat was not subdued.
Bespectacled and bearded, he was standing in his seat, making wisecracks that caused the elderly woman in the seat next to him to guffaw despite herself.
“I like joking and communicating. It’s my life, why waste it being nervous?” Shkurat told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in English.
“And anyway, I’m happy, happy, happy I will soon see my sons again,” he added.
Switching to Russian, Shkurat’s brow furrowed and his voice lowered when he recounted how, on Feb. 28, 2022, he had risked his life to transport his sons, 14 and 12, to the border with Poland with their mother and grandmother. From there they would move to Israel.
Shkurat could not go with them. The borders were closed for military-aged men, so Shkurat was forced to drive back to his hometown of Odessa. What happened next, as he recounts it, was harrowing: As he passed an empty field near Lviv, he encountered two Ukrainian soldiers, their AK-74 rifles trained on him. Shkurat raised his hands and was told to step out of his vehicle. He knew that if he made one false move, he would be shot.
The soldiers searched the car and interrogated him, asking him why he was traveling alone after curfew and even asking if he was a Russian spy. Shkurat later learned that 40 Russian paratroopers had recently landed in the area and had stolen ambulances and police cars. He answered the soldiers in Russian, which only raised their suspicions. Ukrainian is the dominant language in western Ukraine, but as a Jew from Odessa, Shkurat’s native tongue is Russian.
“I was terrified. I know that they were only doing their job, but the situation was so scary. Everything I ever knew in life had changed,” he said.
Catch up on all of JTA’s coverage of the Ukraine War here.
By a considerable stroke of luck, Shkurat, a street artist, was able to prove his identity by showing the soldiers his Instagram page, filled with posts of his art in locations all over Odessa.
But according to Shkurat, the story was far from over. The next chapter of his life was far more hair-raising, he said. Pressed on the details, Shkurat grinned and switched back to English.
“I can’t tell you a thing,” he said. “I want to sell the story to Netflix.”
Whatever cinematic experience Shkurat might have had, his fellow passengers surely had made-for-the-movies stories of their own. They had made it through nearly a year of war before deciding to move to Israel, making them the latest of 5,000 new immigrants from Ukraine facilitated by the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, working in collaboration with Israeli government entities such as Nativ and the Ministry of Aliyah and Integration. Approximately 15,000 Ukrainians in total have immigrated, or made aliyah, in the last year.
Ukrainian Jewish refugees who fled the war in their country wait on a bus upon arrival at Ben Gurion Airport near Tel Aviv, on an airlift of medically needy passengers made possible by the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, Dec. 22, 2022. (Gil Cohen-Magen/AFP via Getty Images)
According to the group’s vice president, Gidi Schmerling, if there is any upside to the war from Israel’s perspective, it’s that many middle-class Ukrainians — doctors, engineers and high-tech employees — who wouldn’t have otherwise made aliyah are now choosing to do so.
But IFCJ’s mandate also includes the Jews who stayed behind. Since Russian tanks first rumbled across the border a year ago, the group has raised more than $30 million dollars — primarily from evangelical Christians from North America and Korea — for the main Jewish organizations in Ukraine including the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, or JDC, and Chabad. (Both groups do extensive fundraising of their own.) This week, the anniversary of Russia’s invasion, it announced another $4 million in planned spending.
In Odessa, more than 7,000 people currently receive aid from IFJC via local Jewish groups. The Jewish community, once 50,000 strong, now stands at 20,000, according to the city’s chief rabbi, Avraham Wolff. Seven thousand food packages are distributed every month in Chabad centers. Many of the beneficiaries are older — among them some 187 Holocaust survivors — but not all. Several hundred are people who were displaced from surrounding cities, such as Mykolaiv, which was hit much harder by Russian shells, and some are the so-called new poor, those for whom the war has plunged into poverty from loss of income and rising inflation.
Ala Yakov Livne, an 86-year-old widow, is one of many who lined up recently to receive a box with oil, flour and other basic necessities. For Livne, the part that stings most about the last year is the sense of betrayal.
“[The Russians] were our neighbors. Many of them were our friends,” she said.
“Times have changed but some things never change,” Livne went on. “Back then, we were under occupation under the Nazis, back then, they tried to kill us, and now again, we are under occupation and they are trying to destroy us.”
Yelena Kuklova survived the Holocaust by being hidden by non-Jewish neighbors. “We started our lives in war and we’re finishing them in war,” she said. (Deborah Danan)
It was a refrain that would be repeated several times over the ensuing days. In a trembling voice, 85-year-old Holocaust survivor Yelena Kuklova, who as a child was hidden by her non-Jewish neighbors in a suitcase in a closet, echoed the sentiment.
“They killed us then because we were Jews. They are killing us today because we are Ukrainian,” she said, a slow cascade of tears spilling over her cheekbones. “We started our lives in war and we’re finishing them in war.”
And so it was in battle-scarred Mykolaiv, 140 kilometers northeast of Odessa. “What the Germans never managed to do, the Russians did,” said Eli Ben Mendel Hopstein, standing in front of his building, pockmarked from the shrapnel of a Russian missile.
Inside his home, Hopstein rifled through decades-old photos of himself in the navy. “I know danger,” he said, “and I don’t feel it now.” He describes himself as a proud Jew. “First, I am a Jew, then I am Ukrainian, and I never once hid this from anyone.”
Mykolaiv, pro-Russia before the war and now a vanguard of the south, has become a source of pride for its residents because of Russia’s failure to occupy it. Even before the war, Mykolaiv was a desperately poor city. But now, following eight months of daily explosions, destruction is everywhere and the city’s critical infrastructure has been badly damaged.
Damaged buildings are a common sight in Mykolaiv, which Russian troops pummeled during the first year of the war. So are people lining up for potable water. (Deborah Danan)
Like Odessa, the city has no electricity for up to 22 hours a day. For more than half a year, large swaths of the city had no water at all. Today, residents can turn on the tap and get a murky brown liquid known as technical water, but it is far from potable. For drinking and cooking, they are forced to collect safe water in plastic gallon bottles at water stations all over the city, many of which were installed by the Israeli nonprofit IsraAID.
Scenes of people placing buckets outside their houses in the hope of catching rainwater became ubiquitous in Mykolaiv. For its Jewish contingent, Chabad provides truckloads of bottled water. Hopstein credits the IFCJ and Chabad for keeping him alive.
“If it wasn’t for their help, I would have nothing,” he said.
Across the road from Hopstein, 82-year-old Galina Petrovna Mironenko, who is not Jewish, is not so lucky. A Russian S300 missile that appeared to be targeting a nearby university missed its mark and struck Mironenko’s home, decimating her every earthly possession. Mironenko said the only help she gets is a weekly loaf of bread from the government. Standing in her charred kitchen, her red and blue checkered headscarf offering the only color, Mironenko’s expression is almost childlike — a jarring contrast to the words she utters.
Galina Petrovna Mironenko stands in the wreckage of her home in Mykolaiv, destroyed by a Russian missile. Her Jewish neighbor credits aid from Jewish organizations for keeping him alive. (Deborah Danan)
“I have died three times in my life,” she said. “Once when my father died, again when my son died and a third time after the 20 minutes it took for my house to burn.”
Back in Odessa, the sun has set and the city is cloaked in darkness, a cue that soon it will be time to head indoors for the nightly curfew. But first, a visit to the Orlikovsky family who are packing their suitcases ahead of their emigration the next day. On the couch in the tiny living room sit four generations of Jews: Alina; her daughter, Marina; her grandson Andrey; and Andrey’s wife and daughter Viktoria and Sofiya.
Andrey recalls Feb. 24, 2022. “I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears. I heard a terrible blast and grabbed my daughter and told my wife, ‘Let’s get out!’ I thought my house was going to collapse like a doll’s house.”
Participants of the Hanukkah celebration in Kharkiv, northeastern Ukraine, received a hot meal — part of the sustained aid that Jewish communities have distributed throughout the war there, Dec. 18, 2022. (Vyacheslav Madiyevskyi / Ukrinform/Future Publishing via Getty Images)
But it would take nearly a year to finally make the move, because of Viktoria’s late mother who was sick and because, in Andrey’s words, “you get used to the bombs.”
“We live without power, we live without heating, very often there is no hot water. We are living like insects,” Alina said. “My children told me, mama, we need to go.”
When the family finished speaking, the electricity came back and the lights turned on. Sofiya, 5 years old, laughed into her mother’s chest.
The first anniversary of the war marks two weeks since Alexei Shkurat and the other 89 new arrivals were greeted on the tarmac of Ben Gurion Airport by Israel’s new immigration minister, Ofir Sofer. Shkurat is on the lookout for a permanent home in a place where he can sell his art.
“I am getting to know the country and looking for new friends,” he said. “I want to do a lot of beautiful and bright projects. I want to draw a lot,” he said.
He deeply misses Odessa, which he called an amazing city, but being reunited with his sons has soothed the pain.
“Meeting with my children was the best event of the last year,” he said.
—
The post Dramatic stories of survival, endurance and escape reign as Ukrainian Jews mark 1 year of war appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Iran Soccer Federation President Uncertain on Country’s Participation in FIFA World Cup After US-Israel Strikes
Soccer Football – FIFA World Cup – Trophy arrives in Mexico – Felipe Angeles International Airport, Zumpango, Mexico – February 27, 2026 General view of the FIFA World Cup trophy. Photo: REUTERS/Luis Cortes
It remains unclear if Iran’s national soccer team will participate in the 2026 FIFA World Cup this summer following Saturday’s surprise attacks by the US and Israel on the Islamic Republic, Iran Football Federation President Mehdi Taj admitted over the weekend.
“What is certain is that after this attack, we cannot be expected to look forward to the World Cup with hope,” Taj told the sports portal Varzesh3, according to the Associated Press.
Iran is set to compete in Group G at the World Cup and is scheduled to face New Zealand on June 15 and Belgium on June 21, both in Los Angeles, before going head-to-head against Egypt on June 26 in Seattle.
The World Cup will be held across the US, Canada, and Mexico from June 11 to July 19.
Soccer fans from Iran are already barred from entering the United States for the World Cup as part of a travel ban that the Trump administration announced in June.
FIFA has not commented on Iran’s participation in this summer’s World Cup. Speaking on Saturday at the International Football Association Board’s annual general meeting in Cardiff, Wales, FIFA Secretary General Mattias Grafstrom reportedly said: “We had a meeting today and it is premature to comment in detail, but we will monitor developments around all issues around the world.”
The US and Israel launched joint airstrikes against Iran on Saturday that led to the killing of Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei and several other high-ranking Iranian officials.
Iran has retaliated with strikes against Israel as well as US military bases and civilian areas across the Middle East, including in the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, and Bahrain. Israel is also carrying out strikes in Lebanon and the Israel Defense Forces announced that it has eliminated Hussein Makled, the head of Hezbollah’s intelligence headquarters.
On Sunday, the Qatar football federation announced that it was suspending all competitions, tournaments and matches “until further notice” following the US-Israel strikes on Iran. It added that “new dates for the resumption of competitions will be announced in due course.”
It remains unclear what will happen to the “Finalissima” match between Spain and Argentina, a friendly game that was scheduled to take place March 27 in Doha with potential well-known players including Lionel Messi and Lamine Yamal.
The Asian Football Confederation has similarly postponed continental club championship playoffs set to take place in the Middle East this week, and the AFC Champions League Elite games will be rescheduled.
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Iran’s Supreme Leader Is Dead. Now What?
A demonstrator lights a cigarette with fire from a burning picture of Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei outside the Iranian embassy during a rally in support of nationwide protests in Iran, in London, Britain, Jan. 12, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Toby Melville
The strike that killed Iran’s supreme leader over the weekend has split opinion over whether it speeds a regime collapse, keeps the Islamic Republic intact under a new figurehead, or produces a tougher, security-run version of the same system.
Israeli officials are projecting confidence that the war is not stopping at the killing of Ali Khamenei and several dozen regime leaders under him. “[US President Donald] Trump intends to go all the way with this move,” one senior official told The Jerusalem Post on Monday. “He wants to replace the regime, and he has no intention of taking his foot off the gas.”
US officials familiar with intelligence assessments have voiced a more cautious view, pointing to serious skepticism that even if Iranians took to the streets, the country’s battered opposition would not have the power to topple the regime.
Publicly, Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu have framed the war as a moment of political opportunity. “I call upon all Iranian patriots who yearn for freedom to seize this moment and take back your country,” Trump said in a video posted on Truth Social. Netanyahu struck a similar note, saying Israel would create the conditions for “the brave Iranian people to liberate themselves from the chains of tyranny.”
Raz Zimmt, an Iran expert at the Institute for National Security Studies in Tel Aviv, said that the success of the US-Israeli strikes so far would not guarantee the end of the regime.
“You cannot topple a regime through aerial strikes alone,” he said during a briefing with reporters on Sunday, adding that “millions of Iranians” were needed to do that.
But after weeks of suppression during last month’s anti-government protests, he said, the Iranian public is “very much traumatized,” and it is hard to imagine mass demonstrations resuming while “missiles and jets are above their heads.” Even if crowds return, he said, a protest movement is still unlikely to succeed as long as the security forces preserve cohesion and the determination to fight.
“The majority of the Iranian people are not organized, have no leaders,” he said, adding that many potential leaders are “in jails and prisons all over Iran.” The security elite, he argued, has every reason to hold the line because many of its members believe that if the regime collapses it will not only destroy their interests but “might actually kill them as well.”
The Islamic Republic “probably enjoys the support of perhaps between 15 to 20 percent” of the population, Zimmt said, adding that that minority is still large enough in a country of roughly 90 million people to sustain a committed base, fill institutions, and provide manpower for coercion.
Zimmt called Khamenei’s death “the end of an era,” describing him as “the last Iranian revolutionary” and, in recent years, a bottleneck blocking real change.
The larger question, in Zimmt’s view, is whether Iran now moves toward constitutional change – of the kind seen after the death of Khamenei’s predecessor, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, in 1989 – and a different governing model, that might pave the way for some kind of political transition.
“Perhaps not a regime change as all of us would like to see but perhaps some kind of a change from within the regime,” he said.
Zimmt said that after the 12-day war with Israel and the US in June, pragmatic voices in Iran argued the regime should adjust strategic objectives and prioritize domestic problems over regional commitments.
“But at the end of the day, Khamenei made a decision to change almost nothing,” he said.
According to The New York Times, Khamenei made a short list of figures he viewed as acceptable successors in the wake of the June war. It included Ali Asghar Hejazi, his long-serving chief of staff and who Israel said it killed in Saturday’s strike; Gholam-Hossein Mohseni-Eje’i, the head of Iran’s judiciary; and Hassan Khomeini, a grandson of the Islamic Republic’s founder, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini. The younger Khomeini is seen as more moderate than Khameinei’s own son and potential successor, Mojtaba.
Zimmt said that while Mojtaba has support in the security establishment, “a hereditary succession would only deepen the [regime’s] crisis of legitimacy,” because the Islamic Republic was founded against dynastic succession.
Alireza Arafi, a senior cleric who was named to Iran’s interim leadership council after Khamenei’s death, is also in the mix.
But the identity of Iran’s next supreme leader may matter less, Zimmt argued, than who controls power around him.
He singled out the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) as “a very, very influential player” not just in security and the military sphere but also in politics and the economy. In that environment, Zimmt suggested, the succession could preserve the appearance of continuity with another senior cleric far weaker than Khamenei as the public face while the IRGC and other security circles are the driving force.
Former Israeli Ambassador to Germany Jeremy Issacharoff, whose work has focused on strategic policy and arms control, cautioned it was too early to know how events would unfold and said Tehran’s next leadership could yet prove “even more fanatical” than the Khamenei-led one but expressed hope the events of the past few days could reshape the region’s long-term trajectory.
“This is an opportunity for Iran, it’s an opportunity for the region, and above all, it’s a major opportunity for Israel,” Issacharoff told The Algemeiner.
He added that, in the near term, he expects the military campaign to keep targeting the pillars of Iranian state power, including missile and nuclear infrastructure, as well as core internal-security nodes such as IRGC headquarters, the affiliated Basij milita, and the Interior Ministry.
“At the end of it we could see a very different type of relationship with Iran, with the Iranian people,” he said.
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At this Dallas synagogue, Purim comes with fog machines, zip lines and Broadway flair
(JTA) — Excited chatter and the rattling of noisemakers echoed throughout the halls of Congregation Shearith Israel as 900 people streamed into its Purim spiel Sunday morning.
But as similar festivities commenced at synagogues around the world, the congregants of the historic Conservative shul in Dallas knew they were in for something far more ambitious than the average holiday festivities.
A Purim spiel, Yiddish for “play,” is the comedic retelling of the Book of Esther for the holiday of Purim. At many synagogues, the production features a costume parade, Jewish parodies of popular songs and the annual megillah reading.
For the past eight years, however, the Purim performance at Shearith Israel has taken the form of a high-octane theatrical performance, featuring intricate set designs, original music, and a yearly stunt that has included its rabbi riding into the sanctuary on horseback and ziplining onto the stage.
This year, the performance featured confetti canons and a mechanical rig that lowered a child onto the stage behind a giant disco ball.
The congregation’s annual performance did not always resemble the elaborate, effects-laden production it is today. The spectacular is the brainchild of one of the synagogue’s senior rabbis, Adam Roffman, whose second act in the clergy followed an earlier stint in a musical theater in New York City.
“The Purim spiel is a love letter to the community,” Roffman said. “I work on this for, you know, close to 200 hours … it’s tedious, it’s difficult, but ultimately, what gets me over the hump of like, okay, it’s 11 o’clock at night, and I’ve been staring in front of my computer for the last five hours making a video, is I love these people.”
Melissa Goldberg, a congregant whose husband’s family had been members of Congregation Shearith Israel for five generations, said the spiel had become her family’s “favorite time of year.”
“I love it because it gives Rabbi Roffman a chance to create, to flex his creative muscles, so we don’t lose him to Broadway, because he can have his moment every year,” said Goldberg.
Roffman grew up in Baltimore attending a Jewish day school where he said he “idolized and worshiped” his rabbis before he was “bit by the bug” of musical theater in high school.
After graduating from Amherst College, Roffman studied musical theater at Circle in the Square Theater School in New York City and began his stint as an actor and director.
But a few years into the scene, Roffman said that he began to question whether the profession suited him.
“In my mid 20s, I found myself kind of realizing, like, it didn’t matter how much talent I had as an actor, the industry was not for me,” said Roffman. “When you’re an actor, you’re the president of Adam Roffman Inc, you have to fight for yourself all the time, and that just isn’t my personality, and what I was missing, I think, was sort of connection and community.”
So Roffman reengaged in the Jewish community, saying he became “addicted in the same way that I was when I started acting in high school.” His rediscovered passion soon inspired him to seek rabbinic ordination from the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York City.
After coming to Dallas to join Congregation Shearith Israel’s clergy with his wife, Rabbi Shira Wallach, in 2013, Roffman said the pair soon discovered that the local Jewish community had “tremendous institutional loyalty” and a unique commitment to Jewish life.
“They’re very cognizant of the fact that they are the minority here in the Bible Belt,” said Roffman. “This is a Christian place, and that gives them even more incentive to commit to their Judaism and to commit to being here, being present here.”
Roffman said he spent his first few years adjusting to the role before beginning to think about how to get back on the stage — even though, for him, the parallels between the two professions were endless.
“I think a lot about the overlap between Jewish practice and theater,” said Roffman. “I think of the prayer book as a script. It’s one of the oldest scripts written, I think, in human history, because it is a book of words written by somebody else that you have to open up and personalize and process.”
During his time at Shearith Israel, Roffman has performed two self-written autobiographical one-man-shows at local theaters, including “On Sunday the Rabbi Sang Sondheim” in 2017 and “Songs the Rabbi Shouldn’t Sing,” which he took a sabbatical to write in 2023.
In 2019, Roffman told his fellow rabbis that he would be taking over preparations for the Purim spiel.
It began fairly simple, with Roffman pulling off a Broadway-themed performance that featured him and Wallach singing songs from “Phantom of the Opera” as they rolled into the sanctuary in a canoe surrounded by fog.
Things escalated from there, with Roffman incorporating a “stunt” every year to outdo the last, including standing atop a cherrypicker for a “Lion King”-inspired spiel, riding into the sanctuary on a horse and ziplining above congregants’ heads for last year’s “Wicked” theme.
“We try and do something that nobody’s really ever seen before in a synagogue,” said Roffman. “But there’s a primary goal, really, which is that the people see their rabbis, all four of us on stage, really putting it out there and doing crazy stuff to show that we’re people too, and also to really build a connection between us and the people who are here.”
The buildup to the Purim spiel is a monthslong affair, with Roffman beginning to work on his concept in December. In the weeks leading up to the extravaganza, he said his colleagues rotate him out of leading Shabbat so he can focus his efforts on crafting the performance.
“Starting in January, I start to work on lyrics, and then four weeks out, basically what I do is I do lifecycle events, I teach on Shabbat, and that’s it,” said Roffman. “I’m spending another 40 or 50 hours a week just on Purim.”
Roffman said the performance was largely unconstrained by a budget, noting that “it could cost $20,000, and then it could be a lot more than that, and people would be OK with that.” He and others declined to say what was being spent on this year’s production.
“The people here are just extremely committed to Judaism and Jewish life and Jewish continuity, so the fact that this Purim show costs what it does, and people don’t blink an eye,” said Roffman.
During this year’s spiel, the congregation screamed and applauded as Queen Esther descended onto the stage in a giant disco ball suspended on a mechanical lift, a fog cannon blasting as she made her entrance.
Later in the performance, the clergy danced to Roffman’s parody of the Village People’s “Y.M.C.A.,” complete with the lyric “It’s fun to pray to the yud hey vav hey,” a reference to the Hebrew name for God. Audience members lifted coordinated signs to spell out the letters in unison.
Rabbi Ari Sunshine, Roffman and Wallach’s co-senior rabbi, said the attendance to the spiel had more than doubled since the first year Roffman took over.
“We like to joke ‘we take our Purim fun seriously’ because we think that this is a great opportunity,” said Sunshine. “We know it’s one that people look forward to, we know it’s a great community-building experience.”
The spiel is not the only place where the synagogue has seen a surge in participation. Over the past five years, Shearith Israel’s religious school has gone from 60 students to 250.
“When we first came, the shul was kind of in a little bit of a downturn in terms of energy and membership,” said Wallach. “One of the things that was really important to Adam and me when we came is that we changed the culture so that it was really warm and embracing.”
Debbie Mack, who has belonged to Congregation Shearith Israel for 48 years, said the synagogue “wasn’t always as lively and as fun and youthful” as it feels today.
“Our children don’t live here, our grandchildren are not here, but we love coming to see all that the synagogue is now, and remember the difference between how it was and the way it is,” said Mack.
But even amid the spectacle, the story’s darker themes were not lost on congregants.
For Shiva Delrahim Beck, a Persian congregant who has attended the Shearith Israel Purim spiel for 12 years, this year had a special significance in the wake of joint U.S.-Israeli attacks on Iran.
“For us, the story of Purim and the way that they did it at the spiel really brought to life the significance of Purim and modern day Purim, as it happened yesterday,” said Delrahim Beck. “So this was great for my family, and I could not be happier to be here.”
During the opening prayers for the performance, Wallach, Roffman’s wife and co-senior rabbi, drew parallels between the story of Purim and the burgeoning conflict in Iran.
“In that same way, our heroes of today are risking their lives so that we can continue to do what we are doing here, showing our love for and pride in Judaism and the Jewish people in Israel and all over the world,” said Wallach.
This year was not the first time that the spiel intersected with heavier themes. Last year, when the spiel’s theme was “Wicked,” Roffman played a montage of images of the Israeli hostages coming out of Gaza as the congregation’s cantor sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”
“I think it really moved people,” said Roffman. “They weren’t expecting it, because they were there to laugh, but, you know, that’s the thing about theater. It sort of hits you in places that you don’t expect.”
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