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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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Hamas Braces for Israeli Operations Abroad, Continued Clan Opposition in Gaza
Palestinian Hamas terrorists stand guard at a site as Hamas says it continues to search for the bodies of deceased hostages, in Beit Lahiya in the northern Gaza Strip, Dec. 3, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Stringer
Hamas is increasingly preparing for what it sees as an imminent Israeli attempt to assassinate senior leaders abroad, urging members to tighten personal security as the group simultaneously works to consolidate its weakened position in Gaza and reassert control over the enclave.
According to the Arabic newspaper Asharq Al-Awsat, Hamas officials reported rising concern over additional Israeli strikes on the Palestinian terrorist group’s top echelon abroad in the wake of last week’s killing of Hezbollah commander Haitham Tabtabai and September’s operation in Qatar targeting Hamas’s senior leadership.
Despite US “reassurance messages” to several parties — including mediators in Turkey, Qatar, and Egypt — that further strikes on senior Hamas members abroad would not be repeated, the group’s leadership says it “does not trust Israel.”
“There are expectations of a new assassination attempt with the Israeli government’s efforts to obstruct the second phase of the ceasefire agreement and its claim that the movement has no intention of advancing toward a deal,” the Palestinian terrorist group said.
Hamas members reportedly received new instructions requiring all fixed meetings at a single location to be canceled, with leaders instead holding irregular gatherings at rotating sites.
Meanwhile, the head of an armed Palestinian faction opposing Hamas in Gaza died on Thursday while mediating an internal dispute between families and groups within the militia, dealing a setback to Israeli efforts to support Gazan clans against the ruling Islamist group.
Yasser Abu Shabab, a Bedouin tribal leader based in Israeli-held Rafah in southern Gaza, had led one of the most prominent of several small anti-Hamas groups that emerged in the enclave during the war that began more than two years ago.
Following the incident, Hamas said in a statement that the fate of anyone who “betrayed their people and homeland and agreed to be an instrument in the hands of the occupation [Israel]” was inevitable, accusing Abu Shabab of “criminal acts” that amounted to a “flagrant deviation from national and social consensus.”
Abu Shabab’s death would be a boost to Hamas, which has branded him a collaborator and ordered its fighters to kill or capture him.
“The occupation that could not protect its own agents will be unable to protect any of its collaborators, and anyone who undermines the security of their people and serves their enemy is destined to fall into the dustbin of history, losing all respect and standing in society,” the terrorist group said in its statement.
Gaza’s Popular Forces confirmed that its leader died of a gunshot wound as he intervened in a family quarrel, and dismissed as “misleading” reports that Hamas was behind Abu Shabab’s killing.
Ghassan al-Dahini, who could assume leadership of the group following the incident, pledged to continue Abu Shabab’s project and resist Hamas by establishing an alternative to the terrorist group’s rule.
“With God’s help, and following my brother Yasser’s plan, we will return as we were — more determined and stronger,” al-Dahini said in a statement, according to Hebrew media. “We will keep fighting with every last ounce of strength until every final terrorist is gone.”
“Today, Hamas will see its true face — the one the world should have recognized long ago. We will restore hope to all Palestinians, to all free people, to the oppressed, and to everyone who believes in peace,” he continued.
Rafah has been the scene of some of the worst violence during the ceasefire, with residents reporting gunbattles on Wednesday that left four Israeli soldiers wounded. On Thursday, the Israeli military said its forces killed about 40 Hamas fighters trapped in tunnels beneath the city.
Shortly after the US-backed ceasefire to halt fighting in Gaza took effect in October, Hamas moved to reassert control over the war-torn enclave and consolidate its weakened position by targeting Palestinians who it labeled as “lawbreakers and collaborators with Israel.”
Since then, Hamas’s brutal crackdown has escalated dramatically, sparking widespread clashes and violence as the group moves to seize weapons and eliminate any opposition.
Social media videos widely circulated online show Hamas members brutally beating Palestinians and carrying out public executions of alleged collaborators and rival militia members.
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Palestinian Official Calls Drop Site News Founder an ‘Apologist’ for Hamas, Ex-Obama Aides Say They ‘Love’ the Site
Abdal Karim Ewaida, the Palestinian ambassador to Côte d’Ivoire, in October 2023. Photo: Screenshot
A Palestinian diplomat accused a popular new anti-Israel website of running cover and acting as an apologist for Hamas.
Abdal Karim Ewaida, the Palestinian ambassador to Côte d’Ivoire, posted on social media about Drop Site News on Tuesday, after the website reported that the Palestinian Authority was planning to ban Hamas and other terrorist factions from running in future elections.
“Pro-resistance parties and armed resistance remains one of the single most popular points in [Palestinian] public polling,” said Jeremy Scahill, founder of Drop Site News. “The Palestinian Authority is saying, ‘You are not allowed to run for public office anymore.’ And when you look at what the defense of this is on the part of the Palestinian Authority, it is a pathetic defense.”
In response, Ewaida lambasted Scahill in a social media post.
“As for Jeremy Scahill — a journalist who transitions between outlets, perhaps pursuing higher remuneration — he consistently excuses Hamas and [Yahya] Sinwar’s purported interest in reconciliation solely to vilify the Palestinian National Authority and President Mahmoud Abbas. It is astounding,” the Palestinian official wrote.
Sinwar, who was killed by Israeli forces last year, was the leader of Hamas and mastermind of the Palestinian terrorist group’s Oct. 7, 2023, invasion of and massacre across southern Israel.
“He acts as a fervent apologist for Hamas and jihadist elements,” Ewaida continued, referring to Scahill, “even to the point of rationalizing [Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin] Netanyahu’s claims of financially bolstering Hamas as being in Israel’s interest, while attempting to spin it as favorable to Hamas itself. He seems to believe he can speak with impunity.”
Ewaida went on to castigate Drop Site News in general, saying that the “platform’s credibility is deeply compromised. We are acutely aware of its sources of funding and underlying motives. The day will come when your malicious objectives and relentless advocacy for Hamas — now apparent to all — will be fully exposed, leaving little doubt about your benefactors.”
Let me be clear from the outset: I represent the State of Palestine as its ambassador, not the Palestinian Authority as an envoy—a distinction that stands regardless of opinion.
Secondly, your platform’s credibility is deeply compromised. We are acutely aware of its sources of… https://t.co/E6Ym43wWL0
— Ambassadeur Abdal Karim Ewaida (@KarimEwaida) December 3, 2025
One day after Ewaida’s post, the hosts of the influential progressive podcast “Pod Save America” — all one-time aides to former US President Barack Obama — mentioned Drop Site News, saying “we love you guys” and “we are readers.”
The two hosts that were part of that conversation, Ben Rhodes and Tommy Vietor, served as speechwriter and spokesman, respectively, for Obama in the White House, focusing on national security issues.
In a follow-up to the episode, the Drop Site News posted on its X account “Pod Save the World = confirmed Drop Site readers,” and Rhodes responded, “yes readers.”
Good correction! And yes readers.
— Ben Rhodes (@brhodes) December 3, 2025
Many former Obama staffers have become vocally critical of Israel in recent years, especially amid the war in Gaza. However, Rhodes’s views on Israel were particularly critical at the time they were serving in government as well, so much so that during the Obama administration, he earned himself the nickname “Hamas” in the White House. The nickname was coined by Obama’s chief of staff, Rahm Emanuel, as Rhodes revealed in his memoir, The World as It Is.
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My favorite Christmas scene in literature — and why it makes me feel so Jewish
Some years ago, a college friend of my brother’s and mine visited our family home in Denver. “Now I understand it,” he said, sagely, after a couple of hours: “If you aren’t actively making noise in this house, you don’t exist.”
It’s true that I come from a noisy clan. If it is rude to get your family members’ attention by screaming at the top of your lungs, no one ever told me. We grew up far away from our extended family, but on visits to their homes growing up, I saw the same dynamic at play. The louder the gathering, as a general rule, the more successful it was.
I understood, from a young age — years before I learned the term — that “cooperative overlapping” was profoundly Jewish. Our culture celebrated the qualities of being loud and proud.
But I was a bookish child, and my favorite books were old-fashioned ones that chronicle the changes of girlhood: L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables series, Noel Streatfield’s Ballet Shoes, and the like. And as I read and re-read them, I noticed something: At some point, the wild girls turned into ladies, and, crucially, quieted down.
Anne Shirley’s maturity is marked by silence: Those who love her notice that, suddenly, she’s stopped the constant stream of chatter that made her both so endearing and so annoying. She starts to speak less often, more thoughtfully, and in more measured tones, and that is how the reader knows she has begun to come into her own.
How could I square the culture of the Jewish family I loved with my desire to be like the girls in my books — full of the quiet magic of young womanhood?
Enter my favorite depiction of Christmas in literature, in Louisa May Alcott’s Eight Cousins.
The novel, a relatively little-known effort by the author of Little Women, centers on a well-off Scottish American clan, bright blonde to the last baby, who live in a WASPy enclave near Boston. It is about, as the title neatly suggests, eight cousins: seven brash boys, and one girl, raised far from her family, who comes into their midst after being orphaned and given over to the care of an uncle with newfangled ideas about childrearing. (Oatmeal and morning sprints in the garden are in; ruffles, long hours shut up indoors, and ladylike affectations are out.)
To a Jewish girl raised in the mountain west, they were an unfamiliar bunch. Except for the sense, fundamental to the book’s premise, that the bonds of family are sacred, and enshrined by ruckus.
I often felt like Rose, the solitary girl, on trips to see my own cousins, in Evanston, Illinois, and the Finger Lakes region of New York. We grew up so far apart that I could not help but feel shy and anxious upon first immersion. My cousins seemed so confident and brilliant, and I would feel small and strange among them. Then the chaos of a happy family would come for me, and in time, I would be shouting and playing along with the rest.
For Rose, that chaos comes to a climax on Christmas, when a seafaring uncle she hasn’t met since she was a baby makes a surprise return home. After many months getting used to the happy, charming, raucous boys who see her as a peer and sometimes a pet, Uncle Jem’s return throws her briefly back into the role of outsider. The family feels complete upon his arrival, in a way it didn’t before. But does that completeness include her?
I knew how the scene ended: with cousin Steve wailing away on a bagpipe, cousin Charlie trying to catch Rose under the mistletoe, everyone dancing a Scottish reel, and cousin Mac — always my favorite — discoursing on grand topics with his elders, while his cousins set loving traps for his embarrassment. But every time I read it, as Rose emerged to meet her long-absent uncle and see if she still fit as well in the family to which she was still getting accustomed, I felt my heart in my throat.
I understood how torn she was between behaving like a ladylike little woman, and like the cheerful, uninhibited, loud girl she had only just learned to embrace being. And in the Christmas gathering she so deeply longed to be a complete part of, I saw my own family — mostly brunette, definitively un-Scottish, highly Jewish, rollicking away.
Yes, it’s odd that, of all things, a scene centered on a Christian holiday would be the one, in all my beloved childhood books, that made me feel like I was seeing my own Jewish family on the page. At the same time, I think there’s something quite dreamy about the connection. And quite American.
The best version of this country is one in which people of all different backgrounds find connection and inspiration in each other. Where a fictional character’s homespun Christmas can provide, unlikely as it is, a strong sense of Jewish affirmation.
The scene ends with the family all singing a ballad called “Sweet Home.” Saccharine? Sure. But every holiday season, I think about Rose, and the home she found, and the different kind of home she and her family gave me. I hope if she could see my Hanukkah celebrations in return — warm candles, loud cousins, some mischief and much merriment — she’d feel the same.
The post My favorite Christmas scene in literature — and why it makes me feel so Jewish appeared first on The Forward.