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Standing on Albania’s Jew Street, I learned firsthand the country’s lifesaving culture of hospitality
BERAT, Albania (JTA) — Stone paths wind through the Ottoman-style houses built into the hillside of Berat, Albania. They lead to an imposing 13th-century castle at the peak — the top priority for most visitors to this 60,000-person town 90 minutes south of the capital, Tirana. I had other plans.
Albanians take pride in their ancient code of “besa,” which translates to “keep the promise” and leads them to prioritize guests and religion in their homes. For Albanian Jews or those who fled there from elsewhere in the Balkan Peninsula as German forces advanced during World War II, it promised safe harbor with Albanian families and even throughout entire towns. Albania is the only country in Europe whose Jewish population grew during the war.
Berat’s Solomoni Museum explains this history and that of earlier Jews in the area. At least, so I hear: Under the stone arches off the plaza, I found only locked doors.
Some people collect souvenir spoons or Starbucks city mugs when they travel, others collect memories. I collect fragments of Jewish identity. Planning this trip to Albania with friends, I insisted on a stop in Berat to see the small museum and wasn’t about to give up.
“I’ll call her,” offered the woman behind the desk at the Ethnographic Museum across the street. “Her” referred to the caretaker, the widow of the Orthodox Christian professor who started the museum — Albania’s only one dedicated to Jewish history — as a passion project funded by his pension. After Simon Vrusho’s death in 2019, the museum closed until a French-Albanian businessman heard the story and donated funds for it to reopen in a larger, permanent location.
But the call ended with bad news: The caretaker was sick, and the museum would remain closed. I grimaced. Seeing my reaction, the Ethnographic Museum docent did what all Albanians do — anything she could to make me feel better, to make sure I enjoyed my stay in her town. In this moment, that meant explaining everything she knew about Jews in Albania.
A view of the exterior of the Solomoni Museum, the country’s only museum about its Jewish history. (Naomi Tomky)
Jews first arrived in the country as Roman captives, almost 2,000 years ago. But the first major wave, especially to Berat, came from Spanish Jews fleeing the Inquisition. The Ottoman Empire, which ruled the area at the time, offered nominal religious freedom.
This month, the country’s prime minister announced plans to open a museum in Tirana dedicated to the stories of Albanian citizens who sheltered Jews during the Holocaust, when the country was occupied by both fascist Italy and later Nazi Germany. Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust remembrance authority, has recognized at least 75 Albanians as Righteous Among the Nations for saving Jews.
“You can see the street where the Jews lived,” the docent noted. I perked up and jotted down her directions.
Six blocks away, I found a simple black plaque with white lettering, barely the size of my forearm and posted high on a white brick wall. It read, “Rruga Hebrentje.” I stared at it. Two millennia of Jewish history in the country, and one closed museum forced me to take heart in a little sign saying “Jew Street.”
A sign in Berat, Albania, reads Rruga Hebrentje, or Jew Street. (Naomi Tomky)
Jews have company in this razing of history: The brutal post-World War II communist regime of dictator Enver Hoxha shuttered all religious institutions in 1967, declaring Albania the world’s first atheist state. His forces destroyed more than 2,000 mosques, churches and other sacred buildings, arresting priests, clerics and imams, many of whom disappeared forever into labor camps and hidden graves. “Religion is the opium of the people,” Hoxha wrote, quoting Karl Marx.
It felt selfish to pout about the lack of Jewish history when so much religion, so many people and huge swaths of Albanian culture had been so recently and violently erased. I joined my friends to explore Berat’s exceptions to the wanton destruction, starting at the Sultan’s Mosque, which dates to the 15th century and boasts an intricately carved wooden ceiling. We expected to admire just the outside, since our guidebook said the doors opened only around Friday prayer.
But as we stared at the somewhat ordinary façade, a friendly gentleman chatted us up. He spoke Albanian, Greek and a bit of Italian, the last of which proved useful at matching up to our Spanish and French. He told us a little about the mosque and the casual styles of observance by most Albanian Muslims, but we only realized he worked there when he invited us inside, retrieving a key when we responded with excitement.
We marveled at the green, red and gold ceiling, illuminated by a round chandelier. He asked if we wanted to climb up the minaret, warning us about the ascent. Narrower than the width of my hips, the tightly coiled spiral of 94 stairs featured a layer of dust and cobwebs that stuck to our bare feet. But at the top, swallowing my fear of heights, confined spaces and bugs, I reaped the reward: a 360-degree view of the “thousand windows” that give the town its nickname, flanking both banks of the Osumi River, and the double eagle of Albania’s red flag flying proudly above it all from the castle.
A view of the ceiling inside the Sultans Mosque in Berat. (Naomi Tomky)
Back on the ground, we thanked the man profusely and dropped donations in the box outside the mosque door as we prepared to say goodbye. Instead, he led us across the square to another building – the Halveti Tekke, or Teqe. Light flowed through the high stained-glass windows onto the walls of the 700-year-old gathering place belonging to the mystic order of Sufi Muslims called Bektashi. Chains hung from the ornate gold-leaf-decorated ceiling over a space where, according to our new friend, the bektashi, or dervishes, used to perform their whirling rituals.
“You want to go up?” he asked my friend’s eight-year-old daughter. She nodded excitedly, and he tossed her a ring of keys, pointing the way to the balcony. As she climbed the stairs, I noticed a pair of six-pointed stars framing the main doorway, a reminder of my original mission, even if they were likely not Stars of David.
But if I felt sad about missing out on the Jewish museum, I was heartened by what I did receive: a first-hand lesson on Albania’s life-saving culture of hospitality.
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As Conservative rabbis, we’re rethinking our communities’ policies toward interfaith families
(JTA) — As Conservative/Masorti rabbis, we see firsthand the joy of couples building a life together in the Jewish community, and the pain of those who feel shut out because one of them is not Jewish.
We think of the community member, though not Jewish, who developed a profound love for davening (prayer) and Torah study, and has supported his children’s and grandchildren’s Jewish education and observance of mitzvot. We think of another community member who faithfully drove her four children to Hebrew school for years and, after her youngest child’s bat mitzvah, chose to convert to Judaism herself.
It is time for our halacha, or Jewish law, to address issues facing intermarried couples and families robustly.
The two of us had the honor of joining colleagues in co-authoring a teshuvah — a rabbinic response to questions of Jewish law — that does just that. The Rabbinical Assembly’s Committee on Jewish Law and Standards has approved a teshuvah that seeks to honor these couples and families and their commitment to Jewish life in our congregations and communities.
Since we are part of a movement that balances a commitment to halacha with the realities of modern life, our work is grounded in traditional Jewish texts, laws and principles while also reflecting the core belief that welcoming others and extending hospitality are essential Jewish values.
Based on halacha and Jewish tradition, the teshuvah affirms the longstanding standard of Conservative/Masorti rabbis that clergy may officiate only at weddings where both partners are Jewish. It emphasizes that while a wedding is a significant moment that often singularly drives these conversations, there are many other important life-cycle moments that rabbis can offer as occasions for Jewish celebration and reaffirmations of commitment to mitzvot.
Through this teshuvah, we formalize a public mishebeirakh (blessing) before or after the wedding day for a couple committed to building an exclusively Jewish home, as well as a hanukkat habayit ceremony to dedicate their home.
We welcome non-Jewish parents on the bimah during their children’s b’nei mitzvah and offer “mazal tov” and other basic gestures of inclusion to intermarried couples, both of which were once considered unacceptable. Our goal in doing so is to inspire the couple and family to grow in Jewish living.
We affirm that synagogues may not hire intermarried individuals as clergy but may hire intermarried individuals for other roles, and that rabbis may officiate at funerals for non-Jewish family members and support a Jewish mourning process when a non-Jewish loved one dies.
It’s been about 40 years since the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards, which sets halachic policy for our movement internationally, broadly addressed questions around intermarried couples and families. We have learned over time that those intermarried couples who choose to embrace Jewish life are integral to the fabric of Conservative/Masorti communities.
We invite these couples to engage meaningfully in Jewish practice at home and in community, and, if they are having children, to raise them as Jews. Sometimes they may even choose to convert to Judaism at some point.
We do so because, as rabbis, we enjoy the privilege of being invited into people’s lives, and our role is both pastoral and educational. As people figure out their own identities and relationships, our role is to help them integrate Jewish tradition. As couples turn toward each other and seek to integrate Judaism into their lives, we are here to help them chart a course and to bring Torah into the conversation and observance of mitzvot into their lives.
We aim to inspire the couple to grow in Jewish living, observing mitzvot, studying Torah and searching for God in daily life. To do so, we must create gateways so everyone can find a place to learn and find joy and inspiration in our traditions, within the boundaries of halachic standards and principles.
Many of the practices in the teshuvah are already in place in some communities. Some offer solutions that speak most directly to realities in North America, and we call on local rabbis to interpret them in light of the circumstances in their local communities.
In the days of the Mishnah and the Talmud, when faced with new and challenging circumstances, our rabbis found creative and often beautiful solutions to embody the Torah as they understood it. As we follow in their footsteps, we use the wisdom we have inherited to both uphold and transform those values and honor the halachic principles that are central to our rabbinates and communities.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.
The post As Conservative rabbis, we’re rethinking our communities’ policies toward interfaith families appeared first on The Forward.
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I was a reluctant Yiddishist. Here’s what converted me.
I couldn’t understand my peers’ embrace of Yiddish culture. Now I’m fascinated –– by the world evoked in Yiddish music and literature, and the leaders of its revival. My conversion began at Yidstock: a Festival of new Yiddish Music.
The post I was a reluctant Yiddishist. Here’s what converted me. appeared first on The Forward.
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Mamdani confronts backlash over exclusion of Jewish lawyers from judicial panel
Since taking office in January, Mayor Zohran Mamdani has shrugged off criticism from Jewish organizations over his opposition to Israel and Zionism. But new allegations that his administration excluded Jewish lawyers from a key City Hall appointments committee appeared to strike a nerve — getting directly at how he is governing New York City.
“The suggestion that there would be any decision-making motivated by religion, it does bother me,” Mamdani told reporters on Wednesday. “This is a city that is beautiful because of the breadth of diversity of those who call it home, and that includes the Jewish community across the five boroughs.”
On Monday, a coalition of New York City’s Jewish bar associations circulated a letter accusing Mamdani of excluding Jews from his appointees to the city’s 18-member Advisory Committee on the Judiciary. New York City has the largest Jewish population in America, and Jews are heavily represented in the legal profession.
The critics suggested that the absence of Jewish attorneys on the judicial advisory committee follows a “troubling pattern” that has left many Jewish New Yorkers “feeling increasingly marginalized.” The letter also pointed out that the rejection of retired Appellate Division Justice John Leventhal during the vetting process was “disconcerting” given the lack of outreach to other Jewish lawyers.
Mamdani forcefully denied suggestions that religion played any role in assembling legal experts for the committee. “I did not ask for the religion of each of the person that was put forward,” he said on Wednesday.
🚨Mamdani, facing qs about the lack of Jewish members on his judicial advisory committee, says he has appointed and reappointed a dozen judges from diverse backgrounds, “including Jewish ones.”
Mamdani appointed three new judges in January. The rest, including the Jewish judges… https://t.co/1b30y1y0XL pic.twitter.com/R0UQSl3Hmv
— Jacob N. Kornbluh (@jacobkornbluh) July 29, 2026
Mamdani’s press secretary, Joe Calvello, said that Leventhal was rejected after the vetting team found that he served on the legal team of Ghislaine Maxwell, a socialite who was sentenced for helping late sex offender Jeffrey Epstein. Calvello also said that Mamdani “had the privilege of appointing a dozen qualified judges from a range of backgrounds, including Jewish judges.” In January, Mamdani appointed three new judges. Another nine, including those referenced as being Jewish, are sitting judges whose original appointments were made under previous administrations.
That explanation became the centerpiece of Mamdani’s defense Wednesday. “The thing that matters most to me is that in the judges that have been appointed and reappointed, that they do reflect that diversity of New York City, and that diversity includes Jewish New Yorkers,” he said.
Why this controversy is different for Mamdani
The exchange with two reporters at Wednesday’s press conference, who questioned him about the appearance of excluding Jewish lawyers, reflected a different political challenge than the one Mamdani has faced for much of his first six months in office.
Mamdani has clashed with Jewish organizations that have largely centered on foreign policy or how to define antisemitism related to anti-Zionist activity.
His Day One repeal of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance definition of antisemitism, labeling Israel’s war in Gaza a genocide, support of boycotts, production of a Nakba Day video commemorating the displacement of Palestinians during Israel’s founding in 1948, response to pro-Palestinian protesters outside synagogues hosting an Israel real estate sale, pledge to seek the arrest of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu if he visited New York, and most recently his call for protests against Netanyahu’s expected visit to the United Nations alienated much of New York’s organized Jewish community. But they reinforced Mamdani’s standing with his progressive base and the pro-Palestinian movement that helped propel him into office.
The judicial committee controversy is different. It raises questions about Jewish representation within his own government and whether the country’s largest Jewish community is being included in an influential legal panel.
It also follows questions earlier this year about the administration’s outreach to the Jewish community. Mamdani’s Jewish American Heritage Month reception at Gracie Mansion in May drew few leaders from mainstream Jewish organizations, after many declined invitations amid ongoing tensions over the mayor’s handling of antisemitism and Israel. The guest list reflected stronger ties with progressive Jewish groups, anti-Zionist activists and Hasidic leaders.
Wednesday’s response showed that Mamdani sees this as a different kind of political challenge. Unlike criticism over Israel, accusations that Jews are being left out of his own administration strike at the inclusive image he has tried to build as mayor.
The post Mamdani confronts backlash over exclusion of Jewish lawyers from judicial panel appeared first on The Forward.
