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For many Jewish teens, COVID broke the synagogue habit
This article was produced as part of JTA’s Teen Journalism Fellowship, a program that works with Jewish teens around the world to report on issues that affect their lives.
(JTA) — Jordy Levy, 18, remembers sitting at the table with his family, enjoying a relaxed Shabbat dinner at his Atlanta home during the pandemic. There was no hassle of getting dressed up, no schlep to synagogue, just hanging out and spending time with his family. In the background, a Facebook livestream of his congregation’s Friday night services played.
This is a scene that has become largely familiar over the course of the pandemic. COVID-19 forced many synagogues to close their doors and move their services and programs to virtual platforms. Many synagogues saw overall engagement grow as a result of this shift.
And yet for many Jewish teens, Levy’s experience was the exception. The technology, which in some ways made connecting with synagogues more convenient, caused a loss of connection among teens that has lingered even now that most congregations are back in person.
“I know a lot of kids just stopped going to synagogue outright because with COVID-19 they were so used to not going,” said Jill Mankosky, 18, a member of the Conservative Agudas Achim Congregation in Alexandria, Virginia. “This year when the High Holiday services were in person again, I noticed a lot of my classmates who would have been there previously pre-COVID-19 were just not there anymore.”
Congregations are now at a crossroads, determining which direction they want to move in next as the world slowly transitions away from the pandemic.
“Return back to normal is a bad way to phrase it because there is really no normal,” said Maya Kamenske, 16, a member of Agudas Achim.
Especially for Conservative congregations like Kamenske’s, the switch to online prayer was a significant one. In 2001, the Conservative movement’s Jewish law committee prohibited counting someone participating in an online manner towards the prayer quorum, or minyan needed for communal prayer. Virtual services initially breached this decision, although the ruling was soon amended to allow virtual Shabbat services during the pandemic.
Teens Jaqui Drobnis, left, and Max Gordon, right, lead a Tu Bishvat seder with a group of first graders at Agudas Achim Congregation in Alexandria, Virginia. (Courtesy of Chaya Silver)
Virtual services increased accessibility by making it simpler for people who would otherwise struggle to be at the congregation to still participate. For example, Jonah Golbus, 17, said that there were times when he was unable to find a ride to his synagogue, Rodef Sholom in San Rafael, California. Now, he does not have to worry about that. Virtual services allow people more flexibility for participation, and can be squeezed more easily into schedules.
“Having [online] High Holiday services as an option for those who [either] can’t or don’t feel up to coming in person is a really good addition that I’m glad we’ve kept,” said Mankosky. “I’m hoping it continues because, for example, when I’m in college, I can’t come back for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services, but I’d still like to attend the services of [my] synagogue. Having an option to do them on Zoom from my dorm or something would be really helpful.”
Many synagogues saw a definite spike in participation and engagement of their members overall after implementing virtual services made participation simpler. This was not the case for teen programs, though. Many teens interviewed for this article reported that engagement dropped when it went digital.
Kira Rodriguez, a senior in high school and member of the Rodef Sholom congregation, tried to stay involved after Rodef Sholom went virtual, and attended a number of virtual activities for the first few months. Eventually, it just became too much.
“I was just so mentally exhausted from always being on Zoom,” said Rodriguez. “I couldn’t take another two hours of it [for the teen activities].”
Golbus, who struggled to find rides to Rodef Sholom, said that he was never really engaged on Zoom, so he did not attend any of the virtual programming during the pandemic. Now that he has friends who are in-person again, he has become more active in his congregation. Still, the events look different than they used to.
“It’s not as crowded as it used to be,” said Golbus. “There’s less people I know, so there’s less of an incentive on my end to go to these [activities].” He said that it is just less of a habit to go to temple now than it used to be before the pandemic, even if people are slowly reverting back to how it was.
The pandemic-related loss of in-person interactions damaged teens’ social connections within their congregations. While some teens returned to their congregations as they began to open back up, others never did.
Mankosky also blames the decline in participation to her and her peers starting high school and becoming increasingly busy. What is normally a period fraught with change for teens became, in many instances, even more challenging as COVID-19 took its toll. She is not alone in feeling more disconnected from her peers.
Teens from Congregation Rodef Sholom in San Rafael, California enjoyed a kayaking trip as a way to spend time together outdoors. (Courtesy of Rudy Brandt)
“I remember there was a really communal aspect to the congregation before. My religious school class [and I] were really really close. We often invited each other to our birthday parties outside of religious school, even though most of us didn’t even go to class together,“ said Jacob Bensen, 15, about Agudas Achim. ”It was almost like having a second family.” Now, he says, this has fallen to the wayside as the class has mostly lost touch since COVID-19. Most people haven’t put in the effort to reconnect since returning in-person.
Mila Einspruch, 16, had a different experience with Zoom during the pandemic. Prior to COVID-19, she said that she was on the track towards dropping all involvement with her congregation, Temple Sinai, in Oakland, California. With virtual school, Einspruch was unable to hang out with people as she had before. Her Reform congregation had a monthly Zoom club for eighth graders aimed at engaging and conversing. It was such an enjoyable experience that she became more involved in her congregation after it opened back up.
Yet even for those like Einspruch who returned, the community still feels different than it used to.
“Now, everything’s a little bit more fragmented,” said Einspruch. “The biggest thing that’s blocking people from coming [to temple] is just [that] those [social] connections are gone.”
Despite all of this, Rodriguez saw a spike in attendance following COVID-19 at her Reform congregation, Rodef Shalom, as there was a lot of initial excitement to be back in the building together. She said that faded within a couple of months as the initial novelty wore off. Now, there are odd gaps in ages between the teens. There are few freshmen and sophomores that show up, whereas the upperclassmen, like herself, are more likely to participate in activities. A few teens weighed in on why this is happening.
“It feels like there’s this gap of time where I would have started to get more involved after eighth grade into freshman year where there’s this transition of becoming older and going to those activities [beyond religious school], but then that’s when COVID-19 hit for me,” said Adina Golbus, 17, belongs to Rodef Sholom with her brother Jonah. “COVID-19 I think had a part in [me not going to as many activities] because it kind of prevented that transition period.”
All of the trips and activities planned to ease this transition were canceled, exacerbating the rate at which teens stopped being active members in their congregations. Einspruch had a similar experience with the lack of structure.
“Straight out of our bar and bat mitzvahs, there would have been some scaffolding and structure [to motivate teens] to join the teen program,” Einspruch said. COVID-19 dismantled that.
However, Rodriguez said that the number of middle schoolers, particularly seventh graders, has shot up. Einspruch saw the same at Temple Sinai. Neither could point to a reason for the engagement.
Rudy Brandt, the director of youth engagement at Congregation Rodef Sholom, said that the pandemic was particularly tough for teens, so her goal was to design a no-pressure model of youth engagement where teens were able to engage when and how they wanted. To do this, she offered activities across the spectrum, from Get Out the Vote efforts on Zoom to movie conversations to cooking. Much of this is still the case even in-person.
Rodriguez, who also belongs to the Rodef Sholom congregation, said that these programs were particularly successful with the younger teens, and could be a part of why there were so many of them. Despite this, the revamped programming has not seen the same effects with the older kids. In an attempt to communicate and connect more with teens, Brandt and her colleagues have grown their social media footprints.
“[It’s] just kind of meeting teens where they are, trying to put, you know, what’s happening in our spaces in their faces via social media,” Brandt said.
This greater presence has been somewhat successful at encouraging teens to participate in their various youth programs.
“There have been some events that I didn’t go to when I saw [the posts on social media] it was like, I kind of wish I went to that. Maybe I’ll go to the next one,” said Golbus.
Rodef Sholom is not the only congregation that has changed their youth programs to see more engagement. Chaya Silver, the youth director at Agudas Achim Congregation in Alexandria, Va., is currently working on developing a hybrid program for the religious school at her congregation, with the goal of making it more inclusive and flexible for students and their families.
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The post For many Jewish teens, COVID broke the synagogue habit appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Why I went to Michigan to talk to Jewish voters about Abdul El-Sayed
I’d just climbed the steps to another home on my canvassing list, a lovely residence in the suburbs of Detroit, and rang the doorbell. I was there last week to talk with Jewish voters about the upcoming Michigan Senate election. The woman who answered asked me to come inside, and I demurred, telling her that my project discourages its volunteers from accepting such invitations, for safety reasons. She was petite and elderly, with a soft, open face. She reminded me of my long deceased mother. We chit-chatted a little, then I got down to brass tacks. “What are your feelings about the race?” I asked. “About Abdul El-Sayed?”
Her face sagged. “You’re too late,” she said. “My husband and I already voted. For Mike Rogers. And I feel terrible!” She looked like she was about to cry. “Please,” she said, “Come inside.” I relented (but didn’t sit down on her sofa).
The Michigan race pits El-Sayed, a progressive young Democrat, against Rogers, a Republican former Congress member who is closely allied with Donald Trump. As a New Yorker, I don’t have a vote in the election. But I came to Michigan as a Jew who is increasingly frightened by the threat posed by MAGA and horrified by what Trump-think and Trump power is doing, and not just to immigrants, people of color, sexual and gender minorities, middle-class and working people, students, intellectuals, and those whose jobs and civic activity nurture liberal and progressive causes.
I’m also worried about us Jews.
We are disproportionately members of the communities I just listed. We are also vulnerable to antisemitic acts and policies, which appear to be increasing. (At my shul on Rosh Hashanah I was chilled to find flyers placed by the Siddurs, instructing how to hide or flee if a terrorist were to enter the sanctuary.) And we are vulnerable to the politics of Christian nationalism. I grew up in Texas in the 1950s and 1960s. I vividly recall being made to sing “The Crusaders’ Hymn” in grade school and memorize the words (“Onward Christians soldiers, marching as to war. With the cross of Jesus, going on before!”). Making public school kids do this is now illegal. But for how long?

Mike Rogers’ campaign gets much of its money from a rich Texan named Tim Dunn, a Christian nationalist who wants to abolish public schools. Not long ago, Dunn told a member of the Texas legislature — a Jew — that Jews should not hold major political office.
El-Sayed, on the other hand, is a public health expert with a long history of activism for progressive causes. A native-born American, he went to a suburban Detroit high school where he was on the football team and had many Jewish classmates. He has repeatedly said that the fact that he is Muslim is merely incidental to the fact that he is an American who deeply respects the rights guaranteed to everyone in this country under the U.S. Constitution — including to worship, or not, as one pleases.
Polling shows El-Sayed leading Rogers, but the margin of error puts them very close, and the race is tightening. Pundits say that if El-Sayed loses, the Senate could remain Republican. But if he wins, it would signal to the whole country that the Democratic Party is entering a new phase of progressivism — one prefigured by Zohran Mamdani’s mayoral win in New York City.
Like El-Sayed, Mamdani is a Muslim who sharply criticizes the Israeli government. And though many New York City Jews are wary of him, his main opponent during his campaign, Andrew Cuomo, wasn’t part of MAGA or surrounded by antisemites, as Mike Rogers is. I’d canvassed for Mamdani, and the stakes are much higher in Michigan. So I decided to spend five days in suburban Detroit as part of a joint canvassing effort by Jews in Seed the Vote, Bend the Arc Action, IfNotNow Movement, and Michigan United Action. Our goal was to knock on doors and share our own stories with fellow Jews.
Mine is that my maternal grandparents fled here from the Pale of Settlement, and my mother told me about my grandmother escaping a pogrom after her parents dressed her with a large cross around her neck, and paid a peasant to hide her under hay in a cart. She was fifteen years old when the pogrom happened — prime age for a Jewish girl to be raped.
She and her extended family made it to Pittsburgh. To the United States, the capital of democracy and pluralism. In all of history, Jews have never done so well as we have under democracies like this one. We’ve become so comfortable, as one Detroit-area rabbi remarked in his Kol Nidre sermon this year, that his community’s biggest intramural argument used to be over where to get the best bagels.
Then a Lebanese-American man whose relatives had just been killed by an Israeli air strike on Lebanon drove a truck into Temple Israel, a metro-Detroit synagogue. Dozens of preschoolers were inside. No one was hurt, but the building was damaged. El-Sayed, quickly made a lengthy statement condemning the culprit’s inexcusable antisemitism and vowing to support Jewish safety. But he also tried to explain the man’s terrorism. “Hurt people hurt people,” he said.

He later apologized for introducing political context so soon. But months later, his words still anger some people with whom I spoke. One woman glared, said she had grandchildren at the synagogue preschool, and slammed the door on me. Other canvassers described a man in a car who saw their t-shirts, sporting slogans like “Jews for Shared Safety,” and screamed that if he were to see El-Sayed and his family on fire right now across the street, he would do nothing to help them. He added that he was on the board of a shul.
Rogers’ campaign and its supporters are flooding TV and the social media with material excoriating El-Sayed as a dangerous Islamic fundamentalist and antisemite. AIPAC has also painted him as a threat to Jews, and spent over $30 million attacking him to defeat him in the primary. El-Sayed won anyway, but Michigan’s Jews remain saturated with a miasma of anti-El-Sayed propaganda. The woman who reminded me of my mother said she voted for Rogers because her father was a Holocaust survivor and she had to put Israel first, even though she knew Rogers could “roll back everything, including civil rights and abortion rights, that we Jews have worked so hard for. And even though I’ve never voted Republican in my life!”
I also canvassed Jews who were enthusiastically voting for El-Sayed. Other supporters, though, were terribly conflicted. At one door, a person — I won’t say their gender because they were so anxious about being identified — told me they are high up in local, Jewish-inflected Democratic Party politics. (I looked them up later and verified this.)
They, too, invited me into the sanctum of their home, as though afraid for the neighbors to see them talking with me. “I voted for El-Sayed,” they said. “But it was a horrible decision to have to make!” They strongly agreed with me about the need to vote for him, but they didn’t want their Jewish bigwig colleagues to know. “Half of them would never speak to me again,” they said. “What about your personal friends?” I asked. “Could you talk to them about the need to vote for El-Sayed?” “Yes,” they said. “I can do that.”
“This is what canvassing is about,” I told myself as I left.
Some Jewish bigwigs who openly support El-Sayed have been holding wine-and-cheese house parties for the un-decideds. Michigan Jews for Democracy sponsors these intimate gatherings. I went to one last week, at the house of Elaine Driker, formerly board president of Hillel of Metro Detroit. Former Michigan Congress member and political progressive Andy Levin addressed the group.
The setting was a cozy living room. To ensure that attendees felt comfortable voicing their feelings, journalists were told they could quote the speakers, but questions from the audience were off the record unless the individuals asking them agreed later to be quoted. The attendees were engaged, intent, and split, with some expressing strong support for El-Sayed and others venting reservations.
At the end. Levin summed things up. “We’re here struggling as Jews,” he told the audience. With young progressives entering the Democratic Party, he added, “We are really coming into a new era of politics in the United States, and I’m really hopeful about it.” He talked of the need to elect El-Sayed, then “hold him to be a great senator for the Jewish community.” Yes, he is a Muslim, Levin noted, and that is good. He added that, for Jews as for everyone, pluralism in government “has been great for us.”
This election in Michigan, Levin concluded, is “a time of great wrestling with God. Of wrestling with each other.” Then we all repaired to a room to eat brie and fine bread and wrestle some more.
The post Why I went to Michigan to talk to Jewish voters about Abdul El-Sayed appeared first on The Forward.
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Noah Wyle, TV’s nice Jewish doctor, is People’s Sexiest Man Alive
(JTA) — Noah Wyle, the Jewish actor who both mends and steals hearts as a doctor on the hit HBO Max medical drama “The Pitt,” has been named People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive.
Tuesday’s announcement described the actor’s “smoldering intensity” and “leading-man looks,” while noting that “he loves to do the dishes.”
Wyle, 55, told People he initially thought the news was “a classic set-up for a prank.” His wife, Sara Wells, helped persuade him to accept the honor, he said, because she believes his qualities as a husband and father are worth celebrating.
The actor, who starred in the ’90s medical drama “ER,” is enjoying a career resurgence as Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, the brilliant, troubled emergency-room physician at the center of “The Pitt.” The role has earned Wyle two consecutive Emmy Awards for outstanding lead actor in a drama series, along with renewed attention to his own Jewish heritage.
As JTA reported last year, Wyle drew on his father’s Russian-Jewish background in helping create Robby, his first Jewish character. The doctor wears a Star of David necklace and, in a pivotal scene in the show’s first season, clutches it while reciting the Shema, a central Jewish prayer, during an emotional crisis.
Wyle, whose father is Jewish and mother is Episcopalian, did not grow up in a religious household. But in an interview with the Jewish Chronicle this year, he said Judaism had become more relevant to his life through the show and that his daughter, then 10, has expressed the most interest to “pick up the mantle of Judaism.” She helped him with the pronunciation of the Shema, he said, and her bat mitzvah has been scheduled.
Wyle has also brought Jewish history into “The Pitt.” In an episode he wrote for the show’s second season, a patient with ties to the 2018 Tree of Life synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh struggles with post-traumatic stress disorder.
Wyle said portraying a Jewish character offered an opportunity to present a humanist and healer at a time of heightened antisemitism. “I have come to learn that the world’s knowledge of Jews comes through depictions of them in the media,” he told the Jewish Chronicle.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Noah Wyle, TV’s nice Jewish doctor, is People’s Sexiest Man Alive appeared first on The Forward.
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New York Gov. Kathy Hochul says defending Israel would be ‘a lot easier’ if Netanyahu loses
New York Gov. Kathy Hochul, an incumbent Democrat running for reelection, said it would be “a lot easier” for her to defend Israel if Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu loses Tuesday’s election. New York has the largest concentration of Jews outside of Israel and is home to many ex-pat Israelis.
In an interview with Politico magazine published as Israelis headed to the polls, Hochul suggested that Netanyahu’s “overreach” in the Gaza war has become an obstacle to Israel’s international standing and that his government policies have killed any prospects for the creation of an independent Palestinian state.
“I believe we have to get people of goodwill who can make this happen, and as long as Netanyahu is sitting there, that is not in his interest to do that,” Hochul said. “It’s just not, and it won’t happen.”
Hochul has remained a strong supporter of Israel despite growing criticism of the country within her party. She was the first foreign elected official to visit Israel shortly after Hamas-led attacks on Oct. 7, 2023 and criticized the pro-Palestinian protests on campus.
In 2024, she came under fire for making an analogy to her hometown, Buffalo, in defending Israel’s military campaign against Hamas amid mass Palestinian casualties in Gaza.
“If Canada someday ever attacked Buffalo, I’m sorry my friends, there would be no Canada the next day,” she said in remarks to Jewish leaders, first reported by the Forward. “That’s a natural reaction. You have a right to defend yourself and to make sure it never happens again.” Immediately after it was publicized, Hochul apologized for implying that Israel had a right to destroy Gaza.
Hochul recalled in the interview privately warning Israeli officials during her visit to Israel that the country would lose international support.
“The world is with you when it comes to the brutal assault by a terrorist organization known as Hamas on innocent Israeli people,” Hochul said she told Israeli officials. “An overreach could change that dynamic, and that’s what’s happened.”
The Democratic governor also suggested that if Netanyahu continues as prime minister, it could complicate the prospects of a Jewish Democrat winning the party’s presidential nomination in 2028. The Israeli leader would remain “a lightning rod,” comparing his political survival instincts to those of President Donald Trump. “Who knows what he’s going to do next for self-preservation,” she said.
Closely watching the Israeli election
Hochul’s remarks came as Israelis voted in their first national election since Oct. 7, 2023, with unusually high turnout raising the possibility that participation could exceed 80%, a level not seen since the early 1970s.
Netanyahu, Israel’s longest-serving prime minister, is fighting to remain in power after nearly two decades in office. Many Israelis blame Netanyahu for the security failures that allowed the Oct. 7 attack, while his supporters credit him with confronting Hamas and Iran. Recent polls suggest Netanyahu’s right-wing coalition could fall short of the 61 seats needed to form a government. His main challenger is Gadi Eisenkot, a former military chief whose son and two nephews were killed in the war in Gaza.
Netanyahu’s campaign slogan, “It’s the right or Palestine,” taps into post-Oct. 7 fears about the establishment of a Palestinian state, warning that an Eisenkot-led government dependent on Arab support will lead to Palestinian statehood. But a Netanyahu defeat would not necessarily bring the changes Hochul wants. Eisenkot and other opposition leaders like Naftali Bennett and Avigdor Lieberman also oppose a Palestinian state.
A balancing act
Hochul’s comments also reflect the political challenge she faces at home, where she has maintained strong ties with Jewish leaders while working closely with New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani, a fierce critic of Israel.
Hochul endorsed Mamdani last year after staying neutral during the Democratic primary. But she has continued to distance herself from the mayor on issues of antisemitism and Israel, which has left many Jewish New Yorkers uneasy. Her most recent state budget included a measure establishing a buffer zone around houses of worship to prevent disruptive protests from blocking access, an issue on which Mamdani had raised objections.
In the Politico interview, Hochul said Mamdani had brought “new energy” to the party, even as she acknowledged their disagreements. “Again, differences on approaches to the Jewish community, Israel and all that — that’s another topic,” she said.
A recent poll found that 65% of Jews in New York City disapproved of the mayor’s handling of antisemitism, while Hochul received 54% approval.
Hochul is seeking reelection against Republican Bruce Blakeman, the Jewish Nassau County executive, who has made support for Israel and opposition to antisemitism central themes of his campaign. But Blakeman has struggled to match the support former Republican gubernatorial candidate Lee Zeldin received from Jewish voters and Hasidic voting blocs four years ago.
The post New York Gov. Kathy Hochul says defending Israel would be ‘a lot easier’ if Netanyahu loses appeared first on The Forward.

