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Sicily’s Jews have their first rabbi in 500 years. Italy’s Jewish establishment won’t accept them.
CATANIA, Italy (JTA) — Rabbi Gilberto Ventura believes his synagogue has the most beautiful view in the world. Located in the tower of a century-old castle on the slopes of Mt. Etna in the eastern Sicilian city of Catania, the synagogue is wedged between a snow-capped volcano and the sun-kissed Mediterranean sea.
The 49-year-old Brazil-born rabbi also thinks his congregation is one of the most unique in the world. It’s made up mainly of Bnei Anusim — descendants of Jews forced to hide their religious practice and convert to Catholicism after the Spanish Inquisition of 1492. Before that infamous decree, Sicily was home to tens of thousands of Jews.
The synagogue, which was first inaugurated last fall, is the result of decades of grassroots efforts by those descendants in Catania to find each other and forge a sense of community that had been lacking for centuries.
Hiring a full-time rabbi was the last piece of the puzzle, and Ventura, who has a long history of working with communities of Bnei Anusim in Brazil, was a natural candidate. He arrived in Catania in January.
“I really believe that the future Judaism in the world, especially in some places like Italy and, of course, Brazil, is connected to the Bnei Anusim, and the need to embrace the Bnei Anusim,” Ventura said.
But in an ongoing point of frustration, the formal organization representing Italian Jewry, the Union of Italian Jewish Communities (UCEI), does not recognize them as Jews.
“In the case of Catania, this strange Jewish community hasn’t passed all the steps the law requires,” said Giulio Di Segni, the vice president of UCEI.
He was referring to the fact that the community did not seek UCEI’s permission before establishing themselves under the name “Jewish community of Catania.” Per Italian law, UCEI has a monopoly on acknowledging and establishing Jewish communal life in Italy — including authority over who can use the term “Jewish community of” in formal ways.
“UCEI can’t accept this because it is too easy,” he added. “We are not against their synagogue or their way of prayer, but they cannot use the name ‘Jewish community of Catania.’”
The rooftop of the Castello Leucatia, where the community meets, has a large menorah and a view of the Mediterranean. (David I. Klein)
Catania’s Jewish community members told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency a variety of stories about their Jewish backgrounds. Some came from families that always outwardly identified as Jewish. Others identified the source of family traditions practiced by parents and grandparents who — as descendants of Jews who faced persecution for practicing Judaism — still felt the need to hide aspects of their Jewishness from the public eye.
In the midst of questions about their ancestry, the majority of the Jewish community members have undergone Orthodox conversions. But that hasn’t led to their acceptance.
Benito Triolo, president of the Catania Jewish community, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that he first came to Judaism at the age of 40, thanks to the insight of a Jewish friend in Palermo, Sicily’s capital and most populous city. Working together, they established a Charter of Sicilian Jewry, which aimed to identify and highlight the Jewish heritage of neighborhoods across the island.
While working on that project, Triolo came closer to his own Jewish heritage, and after years of study, he completed an Orthodox conversion through a rabbi in Miami 25 years ago.
Another community member, who was born Alessandro Scuderi but today goes by the name of Yoram Nathan, first felt drawn to Judaism as a child watching news of the Six-Day War in 1967. At first, he was laughed at by other members of his family — except his grandmother, who happened to have a tradition of lighting eight candles in early winter and baking flat unleavened bread around Easter time.
Decades of study later, Scuderi also completed a formal conversion to Judaism before an Orthodox rabbinic court, or beit din.
Others had more straightforward backgrounds.
“I was born in a Jewish family,” said David Scibilia, the community’s secretary. “Frankly speaking, we were not hiding or deep in the shadows in this part of the country.”
Scibilia said that his father explained to him that he was a Jew as early as the age of four. Within their own home, they observed holidays and kept Shabbat — no easy task since Italian schools at the time of his childhood in the 1970s had class on Saturdays. He did not eat meat until he was an adult and was able to acquire kosher meat.
He said that his family had maintained their Jewish identity since the days of the Inquisition and married amongst a small group of other similar families.
“I was a Jew, but not part of any community,” Scibilia said. “Just my family was my community.”
An aerial view of the city of Catania shows the Mt. Etna volcano in the background, Jan. 28, 28, 2022. (Fabrizio Villa/Getty Images)
Scibilia explained that once he had a child of his own, he realized he did not want her to have the same lonely Jewish experience. But when he reached out to UCEI, he said he found the proverbial door to organized Jewish life shut. Earning membership in Jewish community organizations across Western Europe involves a strict vetting process, and many groups require applicants to prove their mothers’ Jewishness according to varying standards.
Scibilia’s experience was echoed by Jews outside of the community in Catania and across Italy’s south who talked to JTA — a feeling of neglect or rejection by UCEI for those who fall outside of the norms of Italian Judaism.
UCEI currently recognizes 19 Jewish communities across northern Italy and just one in the south, in Naples, which has jurisdiction over the rest of the southern half of the peninsula and the island of Sicily. The organization recognizes around 28,000 Jews in total across the country.
Scibilia noted that despite his Jewish upbringing, he has multiple certificates of conversion from Orthodox rabbis. The first came from a beit din of American rabbis from who traveled to Syracuse, Sicily, to assess Scibilia and others like him in Sicily. His second comes from the conversion court of the Israeli Chief Rabbinate, which is known for its exacting Orthodox standards.
Both were rejected by Italy’s own Orthodox rabbinate, and he was forced to stand before another rabbinic court in Italy.
“I have at this moment — don’t start to laugh — three documents that prove that I am a Jew, two Ketubah [marriage contracts] for my wedding, and so on, again and again and again,” Scibilia said.
Others’ experiences in the region have been even more fraught, he said.
“The problem in Italy, that if you try to study with any rabbi here, you can study for 20 years, maybe you can die even before you reach the end of the tunnel,” he said. “From my point of view, they are playing with the spirituality of these people.”
In a statement last year, UCEI called the the Catanians “a phantom ‘Jewish community’” and accused them of “misleading the local institutions and deluding believers and sympathizers into adhering to traditional religious rites, never actually recognized or authorized by the Italian rabbinical authority.”
“Between UCEI and the Italian republic is an agreement signed in ‘87,” Di Segni said. “This law means everything about Jewish communities in Italy is through the Union Jewish community in Italy (UCEI).”
Noemi Di Segni, shown in Rome in 2017, is president of the Union of Jewish Communities in Italy. (Stefano Montesi/Corbis via Getty Images)
Triolo said he isn’t too concerned about UCEI’s recognition.
“Ours is a process of refounding old communities that existed as early as 200 and up to 1492,” Triolo said. “Our recognition is already in our history. At that time the UCEI did not exist. We were there and we simply returned!”
No one knows when Jews first arrived in Sicily, but the Talmud tells a story that claims Rabbi Akiva, a well-known early rabbinic sage, visited the island in the early second century and told of a small Jewish community in Syracuse. Some historians believe the Roman writer Caecilius Calactinus — who was born in a town near Messina in the first century B.C.E — to have been of Jewish origin.
All agree that over the course of history, Sicily’s Jews watched as the island was traded between Greeks, Carthaginians, Romans, Arabs, Normans and half a dozen other empires. The narrative has also long been that Jewish life there ended five centuries ago, under Spanish rule.
The Spanish empire’s Jews suffered the same fate as Jews from the Iberian peninsula, who would become known to the world as Sephardim when they were expelled in 1492.
The descendents of Spain — and Sicily — spread throughout the world, establishing communities in North Africa, throughout the Ottoman empire, in the Netherlands and ultimately the British Isles and North America, as it was believed that Judaism faded away in their homelands.
Catania’s Jews disagree, arguing that many Jews practiced their religion over the centuries, in secret.
Triolo and others in the community formally inaugurated their synagogue in October. It was furnished with Torah scrolls donated by the Ohev Sholom synagogue in Washington, D.C.
The synagogue is situated in the tower of the Castello Luecatia, an early 20th-century structure built by a merchant believed to be of Jewish origin. The building was granted to the community by the city’s municipality.
“So they had the people, they had a synagogue, but they needed somebody to teach,” Ventura said.
The community meets in the Castello Luecatia, an early 20th-century structure built by a merchant believed to be of Jewish origin. (David I. Klein)
Ventura, who is Orthodox, may be the island’s first permanent working rabbi in over 500 years, but it’s not his first time working with Bnei Anusim.
Back in his native Brazil, Ventura was the leader of the Synagogue Without Borders, an organization through which he served 15 communities in Brazil’s north that were made up of descendants of Jews who came with the first Portuguese colonists to South America and who ultimately had to hide their identity as the Inquisition spread to the New World.
His work there put him in conflict with Brazil’s Jewish establishment, too. But Ventura is unfazed.
In Brazil, he founded synagogues and summer camps and built mikvahs and yeshivas across the country’s north. Since 2015, he has facilitated the conversion of hundreds of Bnei Anusim, bringing them back into the fold of mainstream Orthodox Judaism.
“I am a teacher since I was 21 years old,” he said. “Now I am 49, along with my wife. It’s one of the things we love to do, and know how to do. To teach Jewish philosophy, to teach Torah, to teach Tanakh, to teach the story of the Jews in Brazil, and now we are starting to teach the story of the Jews in Italy, the story of the Inquisition etcetera.”
In Castello Leucatia, he leads Shabbat services with the energy of a gospel preacher, pausing between prayers to explain a verse, teach a new tune, welcome latecomers, or simply to allow the congregation to talk.
Catania community members are shown at a recent gathering. (David I. Klein)
“This is what’s most important,” he remarked during one such lull on a recent Friday night. “That they get to talk and be a community.”
Ventura had organized a Shabbat event for other Jews across Italy — from Naples to Turin — who shared his belief that the future of Judaism was in communities like the one in Catania.
“Our point of view of Judaism is that we have to be a part of society, we don’t have to insulate ourselves, we believe that Judaism has a lot to contribute to society,” Ventura said. “In Brazil, we have a lot of connections with people from the periphery, in the favela and other communities, immigrants, Indians, etcetera. So that is something we want to establish here, to teach the people a Judaism that brings good things to the wider society.”
Ventura isn’t the only one working with such communities in southern Italy. Across the Strait of Messina, Jewish life has also been on the rise in Calabria — the toe of Italy’s boot — thanks to an American-born rabbi named Barbara Aiello.
Aiello, though raised in Pittsburgh, is of Calabrian descent. She returned to the land of her ancestors in the early 2000s and began working with the Bnei Anusim there, ultimately establishing a synagogue called Ner Tamid del Sud, meaning “eternal light of the south.”
“Until now, nobody took care of Judaism in the south of Italy,” Scibilia said while looking out at the Mediterranean from the terrace of Castello Leucatia.
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German Court Drops Antisemitic Motive in Attack on Jewish Student, Sparking Outcry Over Reduced Sentence
A protester wrapped in an Israeli flag at a rally against antisemitism at the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin. Photo: Reuters/Lisi Niesner
More than two years after the brutal attack on Jewish student Lahav Shapira, a German court has acquitted the perpetrator of antisemitic-motivated charges and handed down a reduced sentence, in what appears to be yet another case of the justice system in Europe dismissing antisemitism as a driving factor in violent crime.
On Monday, the Berlin Regional Court sentenced Shapira’s 25-year-old classmate to two and a half years in prison for aggravated assault, delivering a lighter punishment than the one handed down during the initial ruling last year.
However, the court found no antisemitic motive behind the attack, overturning the previous ruling that had concluded otherwise, a decision that has prompted outrage and renewed criticism over how such cases are interpreted and prosecuted.
The court found there was not enough evidence to establish that the accused had expressed antisemitic views prior to the attack, and that investigators’ discovery of anti-Israel material and a pro-Palestinian map in his apartment could not be definitively tied to him or any of his family members.
Shapira strongly condemned the verdict, describing it as a reversal of perpetrator and victim, and expressed hope that the public prosecutor’s office would appeal so the case could be reconsidered “by competent people.”
“What other motive could there have been?” 33-year-old student Shapira said when leaving the courtroom. “I’m annoyed; it’s sad.”
The attack took place in February 2024, when Shapira was out with his girlfriend and was recognized by a fellow student of Arab descent who confronted him over posters he and other students had placed around the university regarding Israeli hostages taken during the Hamas-led invasion of and massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
As the argument escalated, Shapira was knocked to the ground with punches and kicked in the face, suffering a complex midface fracture and a brain hemorrhage.
During the first trial, the public prosecutor’s office argued that “Shapira was attacked because he is Jewish and stood up against antisemitism.”
Even though the accused admitted to the assault in both trials, he consistently denied that it was motivated by antisemitism.
Shapira has also tried unsuccessfully to force the Free University of Berlin (FU) to offer stronger protection against antisemitic discrimination. However, the Berlin Administrative Court rejected his lawsuit against the university as inadmissible.
This latest case is by no means the first in Europe to raise alarm bells among the Jewish community, as courts have repeatedly overturned or reduced sentences for individuals accused of antisemitic crimes, fueling public outrage over what many see as excessive leniency.
Like most countries across Europe and the broader Western world, Germany has seen a shocking rise in antisemitic incidents over the last two years, in the wake of the Oct. 7 atrocities.
According to newly released figures, the number of antisemitic offenses in the country reached a record high in 2025, totaling 2,267 incidents, including violence, incitement, property damage, and propaganda offenses.
By comparison, officially recorded antisemitic crimes were significantly lower at 1,825 in 2024, 900 in 2023, and fewer than 500 in 2022, prior to the Oct. 7 atrocities.
Officials warn that the real number of antisemitic crimes is likely much higher, as many incidents go unreported.
In one of the latest incidents, unknown perpetrators defaced a home over the weekend in Berlin’s Prenzlauer Berg district with a swastika and the slogan “Kill all Jews,” prompting an investigation by the State Security Service.
Last week, an Israeli restaurant in the German city of Munich was attacked when assailants smashed multiple windows and threw pyrotechnic devices inside in what authorities suspected was an antisemitic assault.
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Majority of Israelis Oppose Iran Ceasefire, Back Continued Campaign, Polls Find
An Israeli air defense system intercepts a ballistic missile barrage launched from Iran to central Israel during the missile attack, March 1, 2026. Photo: Eli Basri / SOPA Images via Reuters Connect
A poll released ahead of Israel’s Holocaust Remembrance Day found that a majority of Israelis – 61 percent – oppose the ceasefire with Iran, despite nearly six weeks of missile fire, mass disruption, and repeated trips to shelters.
Some 73 percent of respondents in the poll conducted by the Institute for National Security Studies said they believe Israel will have to renew military action against Iran within the next year, while 76 percent said negotiations with the Islamic Republic would not accomplish the war’s stated aims of crippling Iran’s ballistic missile array, dismantling its nuclear weapons program, and bringing an end to the regime in Tehran
A separate survey by Agam Labs at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem pointed to even stronger opposition, with only 15 percent backing the ceasefire. Two-thirds said they oppose it.
Two other polls, by Kan and Channel 13, suggested that only a minority of Israelis believe the US and Israel have won the war. In the Kan survey, roughly one-third said they view the outcome as a victory. In the Channel 13 poll, that figure fell to a quarter, while 40 percent said they do not know.
On Lebanon, more than 61 percent of Israelis said the truce with Iran should not be extended to include the fighting with Hezbollah, a condition Tehran has pushed in its talks with Washington, according to the Agam poll.
That was broadly in line with findings from the Israel Democracy Institute (IDI), which reported that four out of five Jewish Israelis believe Israel should continue its campaign against Hezbollah.
Arab Israelis, by contrast, stood well apart in all of the polling. They overwhelmingly indicated they support the ceasefire with Iran, and only a small minority, less than a fifth according to the IDI poll, back continuing the fighting against Hezbollah.
Although missile alerts have eased across much of Israel since the halt in launches from Iran, communities in the north are still coming under sustained fire, with sirens continuing around the clock. A Hezbollah rocket that was not intercepted struck Nahariya on Monday afternoon, causing heavy damage to a residential building and lightly injuring two people. Days earlier, rocket fire hit the remains of a 1,500-year-old Byzantine church in the northern Israeli city.
The Lebanese and Israeli ambassadors to the United States are due to meet in Washington on Tuesday for discussions on the possibility of direct negotiations between the two countries. Hezbollah leader Naim Qassem called on Lebanon to cancel the meeting, accusing the Lebanese government on Monday of turning itself into “a tool for Israel.”
Israel’s former national security adviser Meir Ben-Shabbat warned that expectations for the talks should be limited, arguing that “security without an agreement is preferable to an agreement without security.” Ben-Shabbat, who now heads the Misgav Institute for National Security, warned that the Lebanese government is not capable of removing the threat posed by Hezbollah and would also be unable to grant Israel the operational freedom it would need to act independently.
“The outcome of the negotiations may result either [in] an agreement lacking adequate security arrangements, or a crisis in which Israel is portrayed as refusing the demands of the Lebanese government,” he cautioned, adding that Israel should avoid making any security concessions before or during the talks.
The Israeli military said it had killed 250 Hezbollah operatives in a major operation in southern Lebanon in recent days, including more than 100 in the Bint Jbeil area alone, most of them in close-quarters combat. The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) said the battle for the southern Lebanese city, long considered a Hezbollah stronghold, was nearing its final stages. It added that some of the terrorists may have been preparing for an incursion into Israeli territory.
The IDF says the fighting has again exposed what it describes as Hezbollah’s entrenched use of civilian sites for military activity. According to the military, weapons are stored beneath homes and launchers are brought out into courtyards to fire toward Israel and then moved back inside. Israeli forces say they are working to identify those sites, destroy the weapons, and kill the operatives using them amid continuing clashes on the ground.
Bint Jbeil carries particular symbolic weight in the conflict. After Israel withdrew from southern Lebanon in May 2000, then-Hezbollah chief Hassan Nasrallah delivered a triumphal address at the city’s soccer stadium, using it as a stage to cast Israel as fragile and beatable.
“Israel has nuclear weapons and the most powerful air force in the region, but in truth, it is weaker than a spider web,” Nasrallah said at the time.
Brigadier General Guy Levy, commander of Division 98, addressed troops from the ruins of that same stadium, which was hit in the latest round of fighting: “In Bint Jbeil in 2000, someone made a speech here and bragged about spider webs. Today, that man does not exist, the stadium doesn’t either, and his words are worth nothing. Now our forces control the area, destroying terror infrastructure and dozens of terrorists.”
Writing on X, IDF Arabic-language spokesman Avichay Adraee said that “glory is not built with speeches, but with the impact of soldiers’ footsteps. Controlling the Bint Jbeil stadium is not merely a military achievement, but a dismantling of its arrogant symbolism.”
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Israelis have no idea where the Iran war is going. But they know it’s part of Netanyahu’s campaign
Israelis are not used to uncertainty. This is a country where, on most questions, people hold strong opinions with remarkable confidence — about security, politics, even identity.
Yet in the aftermath of the recent war with Iran, they find themselves on unfamiliar ground: confused and in suspense.
With the suspense comes a sense of strategic paralysis. The war with Iran has nominally paused — although the United States is now blockading the Strait of Hormuz — but without the resolution or clarity that Israelis were led to expect was attainable.
For weeks, the public was primed for something decisive: a fundamental shift in the balance with Iran, perhaps via the collapse of the regime itself. President Donald Trump told Iranians that the war would set them up to reclaim their country, a message that Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu reinforced. From the war’s onset they instilled the expectation that the regime, with its supreme leader and many of his adjutants assassinated, could be compelled to change its ways.
But the idea that fanatical jihadists can be persuaded of anything was always a stretch. So it should have come as no surprise that what emerged was something far murkier: a profoundly fragile ceasefire layered over a volatile reality, with the core threat not eliminated but merely weakened.
The result is a surly public mood. Polls suggest widespread dissatisfaction with the war’s outcome to date — in one, only 22% said that victory was achieved. Israelis sense that something was left unfinished, yet there is no consensus on what “finishing the job” would even mean, or what price they would be willing to pay to try.
A war that was supposed to be unnecessary
This directionlessness stands in marked contrast to the aftermath of the 12-day war with Iran last June.
Back then, the very idea of attacking Iran, a volatile and well-armed country of 90 million people, seemed astoundingly brazen. Israelis were amazed that for almost two weeks they controlled Iran’s skies. They were quite content to end that bout with Iran’s abilities to make trouble curtailed, and its problematic leadership perhaps chastened.
Part of that contentment came in response to Netanyahu’s promise that the brief war had eliminated Iran’s missile and nuclear threat “for generations.” This new war has shown how false that promise was. The U.S. is demanding in vain that Iran hand over enriched uranium, and Israelis who spent a sleepless month-plus living under Iranian missile strikes are fearing a resumption of that barrage.
They don’t know who or what to believe about the real threats posed by Iran, or the real goals of a resumed war, but it probably isn’t Netanyahu.
Redirected regional focus
All this confusion is compounded by what is happening beyond Israel’s borders.
The crisis in the Strait of Hormuz, which began when Iran effectively restricted global shipping through the heavily used waterway, has shifted the conflict’s center of gravity away from Israel. As that’s happened, a war that began as a direct confrontation between Israel, the U.S. and Iran has evolved into something broader, more complex and potentially more dangerous. Oil prices are spiking, global powers are maneuvering and the risk of further escalation remains high.
From Israel’s perspective, this creates a strange dynamic. Since the Hamas attack of Oct. 7, 2023, Israelis have grown accustomed to shaping the strategic environment through initiative. Some endeavors have been spectacular; some have been deemed by critics to be criminal; but Israel has always appeared to command the strategic field.
Now Israelis find themselves watching as the U.S. and Iran test each in a complex negotiation that might have already fallen apart, in which they are not directly involved. It became clear over the weekend that Iran is not prepared to accept the American terms — which they see, not unreasonably, as effective to surrender. Trump’s announcement of a total blockade of Iranian ports is a way of raising the ante in an attempt to disabuse the Iranians of their hubris — and Israel is not part of it.
This leaves Israelis on edge and feeling powerless amid the very real possibility of renewed missile fire from Iran, with hope that a resumption of the war might change anything remaining low.
Yet the reality is unsatisfactory — a form of cognitive dissonance.
A political fracturing
Domestically, this state of waiting collides with a political system already under strain. Elections, which must take place before the end of this year, loom in the background. All polls suggest that Netanyahu’s coalition would fall well short of a majority if elections were held today.
Plus, Netanyahu has just watched the stunning electoral defeat of Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán — the leading international figure of the illiberal movement with which Netanyahu has aligned.
Orban seems to have gone quietly, but Israelis know Netanyahu will not do the same. Partly it is his mania for power; partly his ongoing bribery trial. Orbán’s defeat has given many Israelis hope; it has also made the country’s political environment even more fragile.
Israelis expect Netanyahu to wheel out every conceivable trick to better his odds. They expect efforts to curb Arab political participation and attacks on the courts and media. And, sadly, one cannot rule out maneuvers attempting to delegitimize the elections themselves. Netanyahu knows how quickly emergencies can be created — or at least framed. If polls continue to point in the wrong direction, the temptation to declare some form of national emergency to delay the elections will be considerable.
Which has led, perhaps, to the most dire sign of all at this tenuous moment in the war. Many Israelis expect that Netanyahu’s decisions surrounding war and peace in Iran and in Lebanon, as well as the West Bank and Gaza, will all be made through the filter of his desperate campaign.
It’s a grim sign of how badly Israel’s democracy has deteriorated. Combine that with a paused war with no clear goals and the possibility of massive escalation to come, and those who care about the Jewish state have plenty of reasons to worry.
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