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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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Nobel Laureate Mohammadi in Iran Hospital After ‘Cardiac Crisis,’ Foundation Says
A picture of Nobel Peace Prize winner Narges Mohammadi on the wall of the Grand Hotel in central Oslo before the Nobel banquet, in connection with the awarding of the Nobel Peace Prize 2023, in Oslo, Norway December 10, 2023. Photo: NTB/Javad Parsa via REUTERS/File Photo
Nobel Peace Prize winner Narges Mohammadi was in an unstable condition in an Iranian hospital on Saturday after she was taken there from prison following a catastrophic deterioration of her health, a foundation run by her family said.
The secretary of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, which awarded Mohammadi the 2023 prize, had expressed concern on Thursday that the condition of the Iranian human rights activist was worsening after she had suffered a heart attack in prison.
Mohammadi, in her 50s, won the prize while in prison for her campaign to advance women’s rights and abolish the death penalty in Iran.
The Narges Mohammadi Foundation said in a statement on its website on Friday that she had been “urgently transferred to a hospital in Zanjan today following a catastrophic deterioration of her health, including two episodes of complete loss of consciousness and a severe cardiac crisis.”
This transfer was an “unavoidable necessity after prison doctors determined her condition could not be managed on-site,” it said.
In an update on Saturday, the foundation said she remained in an unstable condition receiving oxygen. It called for her to be transferred to a hospital in Tehran for tests and specialized treatment.
Reuters could not independently confirm her condition.
Mohammadi was sentenced to a new prison term of 7-1/2 years, the foundation said in February, weeks before the US and Israel launched their war against Iran. The Nobel committee at the time called on Tehran to free her immediately.
She was arrested in December after denouncing the death of a lawyer, Khosrow Alikordi; prosecutor Hasan Hematifar told reporters then she had made provocative remarks at Alikordi’s memorial ceremony.
On Friday morning, Mohammadi fainted after days of dangerously high blood pressure and severe nausea, the foundation said. After multiple bouts of vomiting, she blacked out and was moved to the prison medical unit for emergency intravenous fluids.
The activist, who has undergone three angioplasty procedures, faces a “direct and immediate” threat to her right to life, her family said. “We call for all charges to be dropped immediately and for all sentences imposed for her peaceful human rights work to be unconditionally annulled.”
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Is supporting peace illegal in Israel? A shocking arrest carries a warning
A Jewish man is wearing his kippah at a local café when an angry customer accosts him. The kippah is against the law, the man is told; the other customer calls the police.
Within minutes, officers arrive. They confiscate the Jewish man’s belongings, and place him in a cell without water for around 20 minutes. He is not allowed to call his wife. Near release, the officers threaten to put him back in the cell if he does not leave the station without his kippah.
The man refuses. And so an officer of the law takes a blade to the man’s sacred religious symbol. “She’d taken my possession, a religious ritual object, something that is very dear to my heart, and destroyed it,” the man said.
This was not Europe in the 1930s. It was Israel in 2026. And it all happened because Alex Sinclair, 53, had a Palestinian flag embroidered onto his kippah.
That Sinclair is a Zionist — his kippah also featured an Israeli flag — meant little to his fellow citizen, or to the police, who have taken an increasingly authoritarian tack against Palestinian symbols.
Israeli censorship of innocuous political expression isn’t new, especially for Palestinian citizens of Israel. But the egregious case of a Palestinian flag being cut off of Sinclair’s kippah shows the predictable consequences for Jews of policies that repress others’ speech in our name. A government that lets officers cut a Jew’s kippah is taking a page out of the playbook of antisemites by defining what it means to be a good Jew who gets to live freely in society
A kippah built for complexity
Sinclair is a Jewish education lecturer at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. His 2013 book Loving the Real Israel: An Educational Agenda for Liberal Zionism — a finalist for a National Jewish Book Award — argues that Jewish education should be built around principles including complexity, conversation and empowerment.
He has spent his career insisting that you can love a country honestly only if you confront its flaws. As part of that effort, he has worn a kippah bearing both an Israeli and a Palestinian flag for nearly 20 years.
“The reasons behind the kippah are long and complex,” he wrote on Facebook after his detention, “and related to the messy ambivalence of my Jewish-Zionist identity.”
The kippah was, in part, his way of expressing his religious commitment without being folded into assumptions about what a kippah-wearing Jew stands for politically.
His wearing of it has sometimes sparked meaningful reactions from other Israelis, especially Palestinians. Once, a cashier in Sinclair’s neighborhood supermarket told him: “Thank you on behalf of all of us.” Another time, the mechanic fixing his flat tire saw the kippah and burst into tears. Among Jews, the kippah acts as necessary friction in a country sometimes desperate to maintain a smooth narrative.
In a 2024 essay called “The Two Most Important Flags for Liberal Jews Today,” Sinclair argued that the dual flags answer extremism from both Hamas and the Israeli right:
“By portraying the Israeli flag and the Palestinian flag together, we show Hamas and other Palestinian terrorists that we will not give up our country and our national identity, but we show potential Palestinian partners that we accept their national identity and wish to live in security, mutual dignity, and peace with them.”
Cutting the Palestinian flag out of Sinclair’s kippah was the state literally cutting complexity out of acceptable Jewish vocabulary.
The gap between what the law is and what it does
What happened to Sinclair was not a case of bad laws so much as police taking matters into their own hands despite the law.
No Knesset law makes the Palestinian flag illegal in Israel. Israeli legal authorities and courts have repeatedly affirmed the Palestinian flag as protected political expression, while allowing police only narrow authority in cases where there is a high probability of a breach of the peace or genuine suspicion that someone identifies with or supports a terrorist organization
Israel once used the power of the state to discipline Jewish radicals. The country’s first anti-terror law, passed in 1948, was directed at Jews. It was used to designate Lehi, a Jewish paramilitary group that assassinated United Nations mediator Folke Bernadotte because his proposed partition plan was seen as too favorable to Arabs. (This despite the fact that the Swedish nobleman’s “White Buses” operations rescued tens of thousands of prisoners, including Jews, from Nazi camps in 1945.)
Now, police contorted the statutory tradition descended from that law against a Jew for the peaceful connotations of his kippah. Politicians and law enforcement whose beliefs are arguably influenced by extremists like Lehi are abusing their power to harass peaceful citizens of the state.
Foremost among them is National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir. In January 2023, days after being sworn in, Ben-Gvir directed the Israeli police to remove “terror-supporting flags” from public spaces — a directive that in practice included the Palestinian flag. Senior police commanders quickly said that the order was not legally sound. None of that has stopped censorship from happening.
The legal-rights organization Adalah has documented at least 645 people arrested for speech-related offenses since the Hamas attack of Oct. 7, 2023. The overwhelming majority of that number are Palestinian citizens of Israel, many of whom were eventually indicted. By contrast, human rights organization Yesh Din has found that nearly 94% of investigations into settler violence against Palestinians in the West Bank have been closed without indictments.
There was never going to be a firewall
It was always naïve to assume that the coercive apparatus used against Palestinians could be cordoned off from the democracy Jews live in.
Unchecked power, as critics like the Orthodox Jewish philosopher Yeshayahu Leibowitz warned, corrodes everything it touches. A state’s abuses undermine democracy for the citizens in whose name they are carried out.
The Israeli right may object that Hamas and its supporters have used the Palestinian flag in hateful contexts, including in imagery surrounding the Oct. 7 massacre and at rallies celebrating Hamas’s attack. (Hamas has its own, separate flag). That’s true, and it helps explain why many Israelis experience the Palestinian flag as threatening.
But just as the Israeli flag does not mean that every Jew who flies it endorses every action of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, the Palestinian flag does not mean that every Palestinian who waves it endorses Hamas. Flags, and nations, contain multitudes. Many Palestinians wave their flag out of a sincere desire for self-determination.
“I, like every Israeli, know people who lost loved ones on Oct. 7 or in the war thereafter,” Sinclair himself said. “Hamas is my enemy: an enemy who seeks my destruction, an enemy who is not interested in coexistence.” His kippah does not pretend otherwise.
If officers had cut a Jew’s kippah in any other country in the world, Israeli MK Gilad Kariv noted last week, “there would have been an uproar here in Israel.” He’s right.
Instead, the Israeli police have publicly described what they did to Alex Sinclair as a “clarification process.” That sounds like the bureaucratic vocabulary of a state that no longer trusts its citizens to exercise their rights and liberties. Following his detention, Sinclair filed a complaint with the Department for Internal Police Investigations. He requested compensation for the kippah and a written commitment that he could walk through Modiin without harassment.
“I’m not holding my breath,” he said.
His assessment is haunting: “If we are looking ahead, oh my God, is this what is in store for us?” The answer, if things continue along these lines, is a government that is increasingly authoritarian, deeply insecure and farcical. Days after Sinclair’s detention, Israeli police seized another suspect flag that was red, green, and white at an anti-Netanyahu protest. It was Hungarian.
The post Is supporting peace illegal in Israel? A shocking arrest carries a warning appeared first on The Forward.
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Iran Expected to Ramp Up Chemical, Biological Weapons Programs
Symbolic mock-ups of Iranian missiles are displayed on a street, amid the US-Israeli conflict with Iran, in Tehran, Iran, March 22, 2026. Photo: Majid Asgaripour/WANA (West Asia News Agency) via REUTERS
Amid sustained international scrutiny of Iran’s nuclear program, missile development, and regional proxy network, new assessments point to a quieter and more troubling front as allegations grow that Tehran may be expanding work related to chemical and biological weapons capabilities.
According to a new report from the Begin-Sadat Center for Strategic Studies at Bar-Ilan University in Israel, the Islamist regime in Iran may be advancing efforts to significantly develop its chemical and biological weapons programs — a move experts warn would pose serious risks not only to Israel but also to the wider region and the Iranian population itself.
Iran’s chemical and biological research programs allegedly focus on a range of toxic agents, including blister agents like mustard gas, nerve agents such as sarin and Novichok, and substances that attack the lungs or blood and can cause suffocation.
These reportedly also include biological threats such as anthrax, ricin, and botulinum toxins, as well as certain viruses, all of which can cause severe illness or death by disrupting the body’s nervous system, organs, or immune response.
Israeli officials have previously warned that the Iranian government has been developing dual-use chemicals, with both civilian and military applications, and may be channeling them to its regional proxy terrorist forces, raising fears they could be used to intensify proxy conflicts and destabilize the wider Middle East.
Tehran is also suspected of having used such agents to help suppress the nationwide anti-government protests earlier this year, which were violently crushed by security forces in a crackdown that left tens of thousands of demonstrators tortured, imprisoned, or killed.
Similar allegations have repeatedly emerged in the past, adding to a wider pattern of reported abuses against civilians and violations of human rights.
According to a report from Iran International, a medical staff member in Karaj said some detainees released during the January protests had reported body aches, lethargy, weakness, loss of appetite, nausea, and vomiting — all symptoms that may indicate possible drug-related poisoning.
Iran first began developing chemical weapons-related capabilities in the 1980s. In recent years, those efforts have reportedly evolved to include pharmaceutical-based agents and other compounds designed for incapacitation or riot control.
US government assessments have indicated for decades that Iran has been researching and developing chemical agents, including anesthetic compounds designed to incapacitate individuals by targeting the central nervous system.
These reports point to Iran’s academic sector playing a key role in this area, with Imam Hossein University and Malek Ashtar University of Technology — military-linked institutions associated with the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and the Ministry of Defense — reportedly conducting research since at least 2005 into chemical agents designed for incapacitation.
Since the start of the war earlier this year, the Israeli Air Force has carried out sustained strikes targeting sites linked to chemical weapons research, development, and production, aiming to disrupt facilities embedded within Iran’s broader military-industrial infrastructure and associated pharmaceutical-based programs.
Even though Tehran has long denied pursuing chemical or biological weapons and remains a party to the Chemical Weapons Convention, Western governments continue to accuse the regime of violating international norms.