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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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Mamdani to attend Passover Seder as he navigates ties with Jewish groups amid rising antisemitism
New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani is set to attend a Passover Seder on Monday night at the City Winery in Manhattan, stepping into a decades-old cultural tradition that doubles as a symbolic test of his relationship with the city’s Jewish community.
Mamdani is slated to appear alongside a liberal rabbi, an Israeli musician and an observant comedian at the annual Downtown Seder hosted by nightlife impresario and entrepreneur Michael Dorf. All net proceeds from the event will be donated to Seeds of Peace, a New York-based nonprofit founded in 1993 that helps young people from conflict regions build leadership skills and engage in dialogue.
Founded in 1991 and held at the East Village’s Knitting Factory and later at the Museum of Jewish Heritage, the Downtown Seder brings together artists, activists and public figures for a contemporary retelling of the Exodus story. Dorf, who is Jewish and launched City Winery in 2008, has described the gathering as a “supplement” to traditional seders. Passover begins Wednesday evening at sundown.
“The Seder is about asking urgent questions — about freedom, responsibility, and how we care for one another,” Dorf said in a statement. “Each year, we bring together voices who challenge, inspire, and reflect the world as it is — and as it could be.”
Featured guests this year include former CNN anchor Don Lemon, Israeli musician David Broza, and comedian Modi Rosenfeld. Former Mayor Eric Adams was the featured guest at the Seder in 2023.
A City Hall spokesperson said Mamdani will also host a private Passover dinner with city workers.
Mamdani’s participation at the Seder on Monday comes at a delicate political moment. A vocal critic of Israel who supports the boycott movement and has declined to recognize Israel specifically as a Jewish state, Mamdani has faced backlash from Zionist Jewish organizations, particularly after revoking executive orders tied to antisemitism and campus protests on his first day in office and his recent refusal to back legislation aimed at curbing disruptive protests outside synagogues and schools.
Reflecting his outreach efforts since taking office, his appearance at the Seder signals an ongoing effort to engage Jewish audiences drawn to themes of justice and coexistence and who are willing to be part of the conversation.
The event that Mamdani will speak at will also feature remarks from Rabbi Amichai Lau-Lavie, a rabbi and human rights activist, who will appear via video from Israel, according to the organizers.
Last week, Mamdani helped load cars with Passover food for Orthodox families at the annual Chasdei Lev distribution event in Brooklyn. He also met with Orthodox businessman Dov Bleich at his office, who showed him a Haggadah dating to the Civil War era in New York.
In his interview with the Forward last April, Mamdani framed the Exodus story as a call for collective liberation struggles. He invoked the biblical story of Moses confronting Pharaoh as a metaphor for present political challenges. “This moment with so many Pharaohs around us — whether they be Donald Trump, ICE or this troubling rise of antisemitism — we must take a lesson from those words of the necessity of not only having our lips not tremble or falter, but that the power in doing this comes in a shared belief in the possible,” Mamdani said. As a candidate, Mamdani attended a Seder hosted by Jews for Racial and Economic Justice.
Jewish politicians mark Passover amid rising antisemitism
Other politicians have also sought to mark Passover in ways that resonate with Jews grappling with rising antisemitism.
New York City Council Speaker Julie Menin co-hosted an interfaith Seder with the Jewish Community Relations Council on Thursday at Tsion Cafe, an Ethiopian Jewish restaurant in Harlem that closed earlier this year, after the owner faced ongoing harassment and vandalism since the Oct. 7 Hamas attack on Israel. “The story of Passover is a story of hope, perseverance, grit and determination for the Jewish community,” Menin said in her remarks. She added that it is symbolic that this year all the major religious holidays — Ramadan, Lent, Easter and Passover — have converged around the same time. “This is what our city needs more of — focused on unity and inclusion,” she said.
Some see Menin’s role as the Council’s first Jewish speaker as a counterweight to Mamdani on Jewish communal issues. On Thursday, the Council passed two bills that direct the NYPD to craft a plan within 45 days for managing protests around houses of worship and schools.
Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker hosted a Seder with Jewish leaders last week at his official residence. Last year, Pritzker, among a handful of Jewish politicians in leadership roles offering the Democratic Party a path forward ahead of the midterm elections, invoked his family’s history and his role in building the Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Center to criticize President Donald Trump’s policies, comparing them to authoritarian tactics.
Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro is set to hold a family Seder at his official residence and will mark the first anniversary of the arson attack on the first night of Passover last year by an intruder, who said he wanted to beat the governor with a sledgehammer over what he claimed was a lack of empathy toward Palestinians. Shapiro has since leaned into his Jewish identity and has spoken out on bipartisan platforms about rising hate-fueled violence.
The post Mamdani to attend Passover Seder as he navigates ties with Jewish groups amid rising antisemitism appeared first on The Forward.
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IDF Soldier from Connecticut Killed in Southern Lebanon Combat
Sgt. Moshe Yitzhak Hacohen Katz. Photo: courtesy.
i24 News – The Israel Defense Forces announced on Sunday morning the death of Sgt. Moshe Yitzhak Hacohen Katz, 22, originally from New Haven, Connecticut, who was killed during combat operations in southern Lebanon on Saturday.
According to the military, Katz was killed in a rocket attack targeting Israeli forces operating during efforts to expand a security zone in southern Lebanon. The IDF said the strike occurred overnight between Friday and Saturday, during a large-scale barrage aimed at units deployed in the area.
An initial military investigation found that one rocket directly hit an infantry unit from the 890th Battalion of the Paratroopers Brigade, killing Katz instantly. Three additional soldiers were wounded and are listed in moderate condition.
The IDF said the announcement of Katz’s death was delayed to ensure that all family members, including those in the United States, were properly notified.
The army also said that recent attacks have largely focused on the four IDF divisions operating in Lebanon. In the past 24 hours alone, approximately 250 rockets were launched toward Israeli positions, with 23 crossing into Israeli territory, according to military figures.
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AI-Generated Antisemitic Rabbi Racks Up Millions of Followers with Questionable Financial Advice
i24 News – An AI-generated character known as Rabbi Goldman has attracted millions of followers online by combining old antisemitic tropes with digital-age conspiracy theories. The avatar, presented as a caricature of a New York rabbi, plays off stereotypes of Jewish power and wealth while dispensing unsolicited “financial advice” and conspiracy-laden commentary about global elites.
In his videos, Rabbi Goldman claims that Jews have “known every secret for thousands of years,” weaving age-old prejudice into modern misinformation. Among his assertions: that the moon landing was faked, the US government will soon exert total control over its citizens, and billionaires stage yacht sinkings for insurance fraud—all allegedly foreknown by “the Jews.”
Before being removed on Sunday night, his Instagram account had racked up over 1.5 million followers. Yet the same page remains active on Facebook, which shares an owner with Instagram, with roughly 180,000 followers and thousands of interactions per post. The comments reveal an audience that is genuinely engaged with, and emboldened by, his vitriolic rhetoric.
Rabbi Goldman’s videos follow a simple formula designed to thrive in algorithm-driven ecosystems. They begin with a cryptic slogan implying secret knowledge or hidden wealth — invoking Jews as the keepers of these secrets — to draw viewers in and extend watch time, thus being featured on more people’s feeds. What follows is a cascade of AI-generated, factually dubious monologues, all culminating in a pitch: he can show you how to acquire the same “Jewish wisdom.”
That pitch leads to his website, where a manual titled How to Make and Invest Money sells for $9, and he claims it has been purchased by over 4,000 people. The real product, however, carries a fuller title — How to Make and Invest Money Like the Jews. The 62-page PDF amounts to generic, AI-spun financial advice labeled as “the Jewish method,” occasionally interspersed with random references to the Talmud. Just like the videos, it references how Jews have managed to be successful for thousands of years but offers little backup as to how that can translate to a real-world scenario.
Most of it plays off the stereotype of Jews being financially astute. But some lines, such as “Jews do not day trade… We buy the market — the entire market — and we hold it indefinitely,” remove the mask entirely.
Whether we like it or not, antisemitism thrives online—and platforms’ recent loosening of content restrictions under the banner of “free speech” has only amplified it. Social media has become an ideal environment for grifters to blend prejudice with profit. And that is, to their credit, what the creators of Rabbi Goldman have done.
They have clearly borrowed from the “manosphere” playbook—a cluster of influencers promoting hyper-masculine, materialistic lifestyles infused with misogyny and antisemitism. Like Andrew Tate and similar figures, Rabbi Goldman appeals to disaffected young men who feel alienated by the economy and society in which they live, eager to locate a scapegoat.
In Goldman’s case, the scapegoats are the elites and billionaires. But the framing of the Jews alongside the elites has, by proxy, made them the scapegoat too. By merging coded hatred with generic Instagram-style self-help language, the character transforms antisemitism into a marketable aesthetic.
So essentially, the creator of Rabbi Goldman has found a niche in an emerging market, playing off of antisemitism to sell cheaply produced slop to teenagers. Which is both entrepreneurial and morally awful. But the issue is that social media has bred the ground for this by rewarding shock content and letting antisemitism often go untouched. Even when they deleted his Instagram account, dozens of copycats popped up, including an absurdly ironic German-language version that uses the likeness of British politician Jeremy Corbyn.
And this is what happens when social media companies are reactive rather than proactive. They were chasing shadows after the account became so big. Instead, they need to cut it out at its source, be tougher on antisemitism, and be more vigilant with AI content.
And for social media users, it is hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t anymore. Just try not to get financial advice from an AI rabbi who thinks the moon landing was fake.