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This Jewish studies professor won $60,000 on “Jeopardy!” — despite missing out on a question about Yom Kippur
(JTA) — The most notable message Melissa Klapper got during her four-night run this week on “Jeopardy!” didn’t come because the Jewish studies scholar was unable to answer a question about Yom Kippur. It also wasn’t an unkind note from a game-show stickler who believed she’d gotten credit for a wrong response.
Instead, it was an email from a past student who recognized herself in the story Klapper told as part of her self-introductory stage banter — a staple of the game show. Klapper, who teaches history at Rowan University in New Jersey, described accusing a student of having plagiarized her paper.
The student then replied, Klapper recalled, that she “didn’t know [it] was plagiarized when she bought it.” The anecdote yielded laughs from host Ken Jennings and the two co-contestants whom Klapper later defeated to notch her third win.
After the episode aired Wednesday night, Klapper heard from the former student, whose name she had previously forgotten.
“She watches ‘Jeopardy!’ and when she was watching that interview, she thought to herself, this is about me,” Klapper told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “And she wrote to me to apologize. She’s a teacher now and, I think, is more understanding of why what she did was really not good. And I really appreciated it. It was kind of brave of her to get in touch with me after all these years.”
The experience was a fitting highlight of Klapper’s run on the show, which ended Thursday with a third-place finish and total winnings of $60,100. She said it was her training as an educator — not her education in Modern Orthodox schools or her scholarship on Jewish women, immigrant children and more — that prepared her for success on the show.
“I’m up in front of people all the time,” said Klapper, who is active in the Association for Jewish Studies and whose most recent book, “Ballet Class: An American History,” was published in 2020. “I do not have stage fright.”
Klapper spoke with JTA about her Jewish background, her research interests and how her most religiously observant friends managed to watch her on TV.
This interview has been condensed and lightly edited for clarity.
JTA: First, I have to ask: Last night, did you end up with $1,800 on purpose? That’s a very Jewish number.
Klapper: No! That’s so funny. It didn’t even occur to me.
How are you feeling this morning? Any initial reflections on your appearance now that it’s over?
These shows were recorded in January, so I’ve had time to come to peace with what happened. I was disappointed not to win another game — or two. But Alec, the guy who won last night, was just unstoppable on the buzzer. Knowing the answers is not enough to do well in “Jeopardy!” You also have to have good hand-eye coordination, which I do not. I would say I knew the vast majority of answers but I often just could not get the buzzer in time. Once I knew I was going to be on the show, I did sort of sit at home and practice with a ballpoint pen, but it’s not the same.
I will say the fact that I couldn’t be fast enough to answer the Yom Kippur clue was pretty frustrating. [The clue was about a Jon Stewart quip about the Jewish day of atonement.] And I heard about that — I got a lot of fun teasing from some of my Jewish friends who were sending me helpful emails with links to the dictionary.com definition of Yom Kippur.
Can you share a little bit about your relationship with “Jeopardy!”, how you came to be on the show and your general reflection about your experience?
I grew up in a household where we watched “Jeopardy!” when I was kid. We had a “Jeopardy!” board game that I would play with my parents and my sister and I actually tried out for the teen tournament when I was in high school. Those were the days that you had to go in person, so my parents very kindly drove me into D.C. when we heard that there would be a tryout. I didn’t get past the first round — I didn’t know anything about sports, and I still don’t know that much, although I answered a surprising number of sports questions.
In the last few years I started to watch more regularly and it occurred to me, you know, I really think I could do OK on this show. I made it into the contestant pool the first time I took the online test, but I did not get called. The day after my 18 months [in the pool] ended, I started the process again, but I sort of assumed I would never hear from them again — especially because they asked you to write down dates when you can’t come and I had to write that I was not available during the semester — and, oh, also on Jewish holidays. But they called me for winter break.
They record five shows in a day, and all of mine were on one day. There’s about 10 minutes between shows when you change your top and can have a drink and then go right back onstage. It was just — really, it was all a blur. If you’d asked me at the beginning of this week what any of the categories were I would have been very hard-pressed to tell you.
You got some clues that seemed ready-made for a Jewish contestant such as one about Philip Roth’s “Portnoy’s Complaint” and another about Jack Antonoff, the Jewish musician and producer. What is your Jewish background like and were there moments where you felt like that gave you some kind of advantage?
Now I live in Lower Merion, Pennsylvania, which has a large observant Jewish community. My husband and I belong to a Modern Orthodox synagogue and we are involved in a partnership minyan, Lechu Neranena.
I went to Jewish day school my whole life, kindergarten through 12th grade, first at Akiba Academy of Dallas and then Bais Yaakov of Baltimore, which was the only girls high school and where I got a very solid education and was encouraged to pursue my intellectual ambitions. I went to Israel right after high school before I started college. So I have a very intensive Jewish educational background, and throughout my education and all the schools that I went to, I found a lot of encouragement for my innate nerdiness.
So I’m not sure I could draw a direct line, but what I will say is that in the Jewish educational environment I grew up in, matched by an extremely Jewish traditional home, there was just a huge, enormous value on reading and books and learning, and I think that makes a difference.
I will say I don’t think I knew about Jack Antonoff because he’s Jewish — I knew him because of Taylor Swift.
Were there Jewish highlights of your experience, either on the show or behind the scenes?
They do not pay for you to go out to L.A. You’re responsible for your own travel, but they do provide lunch. I asked if it would be possible to get me a kosher lunch, and they immediately said yes, which I appreciated. There was no question or back and forth about it. I got a salad with a ton of protein that could take me through the day.
And then this is a little funny, but I have friends from across the spectrum of Jewish practice, or lack thereof. Some of my more traditionally observant friends don’t own TVs and wouldn’t have TVs in their houses — but they have been watching the show on YouTube every day because they have no other way to watch.
Your scholarship in American history and Jewish studies has been wide-ranging, and you’ve written books about American Jewish women’s activism, American Jewish girlhood and, most recently, ballet. How did your work as a scholar and a teacher prepare you for your appearance or dovetail with it?
I’m a teacher. I’m up in front of people all the time. I do not have stage fright. I give a lot of public talks of various kinds, in academic venues or community settings. And so I did not have any problems speaking or talking to Ken [Jennings] during the short interview period — that is not a problem for me. And for some contestants, it really is. They’re not used to just speaking in public at all like that. My professional background prepared me very well.
I have to ask about the big controversy. [Some viewers believed Klapper offered “Gregor” rather than “McGregor” as the response to a clue about the actor Ewan McGregor.] What did you make of that, and what do you think it means for the “Jeopardy!” viewership to have such intensity of passion that they referee a professionally refereed show?
First, it’s not a controversy. It’s clear to everyone that I said McGregor on stage, including to my co-contestants who have spoken about this. There should not have been and there should not be any controversy.
That said, I don’t personally sort of participate in any kind of fandom, so the way that this sort of took off is a little alien to me. But I know not just in the “Jeopardy!” community people are really, I guess, just very invested. It’s hard for me to explain.
Has the response been hard for you?
I’m sure that everyone who appears on “Jeopardy!” gets some nasty emails because unfortunately fandom can be vicious and I’m very easy to find. But I do know that women who are on “Jeopardy!”, especially women who do well, really can be targeted. And I do think that is part of what happened. Some of the — most of the emails I got from strangers were extremely nice and positive and, you know, full of good wishes. And I appreciated that, but I also got some really misogynistic, nasty gendered messages.
It’s disappointing because in my mind the “Jeopardy!” community is one of the last nice spaces that exists. I’ve talked about that with other contestants over the years, who have said it’s a congenial space. And I’ve asked them — and now I’ll ask you — what do you think the Jewish community can learn from the “Jeopardy!” community?
As a historian, it’s sort of not in my nature to comment on the contemporary Jewish community. I do think there are shared values around knowledge and education.
I do think there’s a nice community of contestants. Even though we were all each other’s competitors, everybody was just really friendly and encouraging. It’d be nice if all communities would just be like that.
You teach women’s and gender studies. You mentioned one big gender dynamic related to being a “Jeopardy!” contestant. Were there others, or other connections to your scholarship, that jumped out during your time as a contestant?
Not so much gender, but my current research project is about American Jewish women who traveled abroad between the Civil War and World War II. It’s a research interest — I noticed as I was working on all my other projects that the Jewish girls and women I was writing about traveled a lot, way more than you would expect for the late 1800s and early 1900s — but it’s also because I love to travel myself. And that’s another way to learn. There were definitely questions on “Jeopardy!” that I knew because I’ve been there — like about the sculpture in the harbor in Copenhagen of the Little Mermaid. I thought: I’ve been there and I’ve seen that.
So you like traveling and you just won a little over $60,000. Do you have any specific plans for the winnings?
Well, first, I’ll have to deal with the IRS. I’m involved with a bunch of different charities and so I will certainly be giving some of this money to them. And my husband and I already have our big trip for the year planned in May — to the north of England, to Newcastle and Hadrian’s Wall — and so we are going to upgrade some parts of that experience a little bit.
And then let’s go back to the student who reached out to you. What do make of that?
Whatever they’re teaching, teachers really matter, for better or for worse, and that’s where my real impact is. I teach a lot of students a lot of different things and I really value my relationship with them. And as it says in Proverbs, right, I have learned a lot from my students, just like I hope they learned from me. Seeing how excited some of my students have been this week, I do think that, in a way, being on “Jeopardy!” was sort of part of my teaching practice and that it just shows, again, this value of education and knowledge. Yes, it’s trivia, but still it just makes you a better-rounded person. And it was nice to be able to demonstrate that.
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The post This Jewish studies professor won $60,000 on “Jeopardy!” — despite missing out on a question about Yom Kippur appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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When Assassination Attempts Stop Shocking Us
US President Donald Trump takes questions from media at a press briefing at the White House, following a shooting incident during the annual White House Correspondents’ Association dinner, in Washington, D.C., U.S., April 25, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Jonathan Ernst
The villagers of Chelm once faced a serious problem.
A wooden bridge at the edge of town had a loose plank in the middle. People kept stepping on it, falling through, and breaking their legs. The town elders gathered for an emergency meeting. Some said, “We should put up warning signs!” Others said, “We should add lights along the bridge!”
Then one leader stood up and said, “I have the answer! Let’s build a hospital at the bottom of the bridge!”
This, I fear, is where America stands today.
Just a few days ago, during the White House Correspondents’ Dinner in Washington, D.C., a gunman rushed past a security checkpoint and opened fire. The President, the First Lady, and members of the Cabinet were evacuated. The suspect, a 31-year-old teacher with an engineering degree, had written a manifesto targeting administration officials, and investigators later found anti-Trump and anti-Christian rhetoric on his social media accounts.
Regardless of where one stands politically, this news should shake our very core. A civilized society cannot become comfortable with such evil acts of violence. And yet, by morning, the conversation had already shifted: More security. Stricter gun laws. Better screening.
All of it sounded like building another hospital at the bottom of the bridge — because while some of these ideas are worthy and necessary, they do not answer the deeper question that should be at the forefront of our minds: How did we arrive at a moment when evil has become so banal that it no longer shocks us?
Many blame all sorts of reasons — from political extremism to mental illness, from social media to economic anxiety — and while each of these may contain parts of the truth, none addresses the root of the problem. Because the broken plank is not only political. It is a crisis of the nation’s soul.
Shortly after the attempted assassination of President Ronald Reagan in 1981 at the same Washington Hilton in Washington D.C., the Lubavitcher Rebbe addressed the nation with remarkable clarity. The Rebbe rejected the explanation that crime grows from deprivation and poverty, as some suggested. The Rebbe noted that Reagan’s attacker lacked nothing materially. The real issue, the Rebbe said, was that he lacked education. Not education of the mind alone, but education of the conscience.
A child must grow up knowing that there is “an Eye that sees and an Ear that hears,” that human life is sacred, that actions matter even when no one is watching, and that freedom is not permission to do whatever one wishes, but responsibility to do what is right.
Without that foundation, a society may produce people of dazzling intellectual brilliance, but with almost no goodness to guide it.
Alas, history has already shown us where that road leads. The Nazi era proved that reason alone can rationalize anything, even evil. Germany of the 20th century produced philosophers, scientists, poets, and composers. And yet, it also produced Auschwitz.
In Schindler’s List, there is a haunting scene during the liquidation of the Krakow Ghetto in which a little girl, hiding near a piano, is shot by an SS guard. As her tiny body lies in blood, another guard sits down and begins to play the piano. One guard asks the other, “Is that Bach?” His friend replies, “No. Mozart.” And they continue to discuss the music as if nothing had happened. That was Nazi Germany: murder alongside Mozart.
Elie Wiesel once asked the Lubavitcher Rebbe how he could still believe in God after Auschwitz. The Rebbe responded with a question of his own: “In whom do you expect me to believe after Auschwitz? In man?”
Because without God and the absolute truth of His Bible, morality becomes negotiable. Without grounding ourselves in Divine commandments such as “Do not murder,” even cultured and educated people can descend into evil.
We must act responsibly in the face of real threats, increase security, and pass legislation where needed. But if we truly want to prevent the next attack, we must repair the bridge itself. And that repair begins with teaching our children not only how to think, but how to live. Not only how to succeed, but how to serve. Not only how to respect life, but how to recognize “the Lord your God” Who gives us life and Who commands us to protect it in ourselves and in others.
A few years ago, here in Arizona, I had the privilege of working with Governor Doug Ducey and others to help bring a statewide Moment of Silence to the beginning of the school day. Just one quiet minute in which students can pause and remember that life has purpose, that actions have meaning, and that there is something greater than themselves.
This responsibility belongs to all of us. Adults and children alike must know that kindness is not optional, that words matter, and that every human being — even those who are different from us — is created in the image of God. And the simple moral truths that built our civilization must once again guide the way we live: “Honor thy father and thy mother.” “Love your fellow as yourself.” “Do not stand idly by while your fellow’s blood is being shed.”
Let us repair the bridge. Let us return to God and His guidance, and strengthen the soul of our country. For when a nation strengthens its soul, it not only survives. It rises.
Rabbi Pinchas Allouche is the founding Rabbi of Congregation Beth Tefillah and the founding dean and spiritual leader of the Nishmat Adin High School in Scottsdale, Arizona, where he resides with his wife, Esther, and 10 children.
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The Conspiracy Architecture Doesn’t Need Jews: It Just Prefers Them
A 3D-printed miniature model of Elon Musk and the X logo are seen in this illustration taken Jan. 23, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Dado Ruvic/Illustration
Within hours of the shooting at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner (WHCD), a comment on The Young Turks’ social media pages offered one theory of the case.
The shooting, the commenter explained, was the work of “the family that owns and brags it founded that country and stole our fed and our way of tying our currency to its value in gold.”
Another, on the same channel, called it “another convincing Mossad-CIA joint charade.”
A sitting president had nearly been shot at a press dinner in Washington. The shooter, a 31-year-old California tutor named Cole Tomas Allen, was already in custody. None of this had any plausible connection to Israel, Jews, or the Federal Reserve. The audience supplied that connection anyway.
At NYU’s Center for the Study of Antisemitism, my colleagues and I collected and annotated 2,000 YouTube comments from 10 major US news outlets in the first 24 hours after the attack — left, center, and right — and compared them to our earlier work on the Charlie Kirk killing in September 2025 and on the saturation of antisemitic conspiracy during last summer’s US-Israeli campaign against Iran.
What we found is a structural shift in how online publics process political violence in real time. It is not, on its surface, what a Jewish reader might expect. It is more troubling than that.
At first glance, what I am about to describe might look like a decline in antisemitism. It is not.
In the Kirk corpus, roughly three in 10 comments performed conventional blame attribution: it was the Left’s fault, the Right’s fault, the media’s fault, Kirk’s own rhetoric. At the WHCD, that figure collapses to one in 20. Conspiracy theories — false flag claims, staged-event narratives, claims that Trump himself or the security state orchestrated the shooting — jump from a marginal six percent to roughly one in four. Within a single news cycle, the question being answered shifted from *who is responsible?* to *did this even happen?*
And it shifted across the entire spectrum.
At CBS, the most-engaged comment in the entire corpus — 1,887 likes — read: “That’s a helluva way to get out of the dinner berating.” The second most-engaged, 1,875 likes: “And the band played on.” A Titanic metaphor, Trump as the doomed captain.
One-word assertions reached the engagement-leading tier without any humor cover at all: “STAGED” at CBS, 659 likes. “Faker than 3 dollar bill BS” at CNN, 1,233 likes.
The same logic ran in the opposite direction at Fox News, where the staging frame was inverted into “MAGA-HOAX” — left-leaning commenters arriving on the Fox thread accused MAGA itself of having staged the attack. Different villain, identical architecture: a manufactured event, a hidden orchestrator, a perpetrator framed as a patsy, security-camera footage read as evidence of staging.
The motives stacked on top of one another — mutually exclusive, but co-existing without friction. Trump staged it to escape being roasted at the dinner. Trump staged it to manufacture sympathy for his $400 million ballroom expansion. Trump staged it to distract from issues like the Iran war, or from his collapsing poll numbers.
This is what a comment section now looks like in the hours after a political-violence event in the United States. Not partisan blame. Not grief. Not even shock. Instead, we see conspiracy as the default register of interpretation, stable across editorial positions.
What does this have to do with Jews?
Six weeks ago, during the US-Israeli campaign against Iran, the same architecture was running through the same comment sections — and the orchestrator slot was filled by Israel, by Mossad, by AIPAC, by “the family that founded that country,” by Trump-as-Israeli-asset. The mechanics were identical. What rotated was the villain.
This is what Jewish readers need to see clearly. The conspiratorial machinery that saturates American comment sections after political violence is not ideologically fixed. It is a template. It takes whatever villain the moment makes available — Israel during Iran coverage, Trump and the CIA at the WHCD, regardless of context, because that audience already carries the frame.
Antisemitism, in other words, has become structurally optional but instantly available. The infrastructure no longer needs a Jewish orchestrator to function. It still has a slot ready for one.
That is why a comparatively low antisemitism rates at most outlets this week is not a reprieve. It is a measurement of which villain the architecture happened to reach for. The infrastructure built up during the Iran coverage has not gone away. It has gone latent. The next event that supplies a Jewish or Israeli connection will reactivate it instantly, because the architecture itself was never dismantled.
One qualifier. Our corpus closed on April 26, before reports surfaced of writings recovered from Allen’s hotel room. What those documents revealed about his motive, they cannot affect the finding here. We are not diagnosing the shooter. We are diagnosing the commentariat.
Two things follow.
For those tracking online antisemitism: monitoring systems calibrated only to antisemitic markers will systematically miss what is actually happening. The threat to Jews is not located only in explicitly antisemitic comments. It is located in the universalization of the conspiratorial template that produces them whenever the conditions are right.
For those thinking about platform governance: we already know how to see this in close to real time. The bottleneck is not technical. It is institutional. Moving from documentation to early warning and intervention is a political choice, not a research problem.
The empty chair after the evacuation was Trump’s. The chair where antisemitism used to sit in this kind of discourse is, at most outlets this week, also empty. Neither absence is permanent.
Dr. Matthias J. Becker is AddressHate Research Scholar at New York University’s Center for the Study of Antisemitism. He is the founder and lead of Decoding Antisemitism, the largest study of online antisemitism conducted in Europe, and now directs its successor project, Decoding Hate, at NYU’s Center for the Study of Antisemitism.
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‘Aliyah Buddies’: How Moving to Israel Helped Me Find My People, My Community, and My New Life
Illustrative: New olim disembark at Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion Airport on the first charter aliyah flight after he Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas attacks, arriving to begin new lives in Israel. Photo: The Algemeiner
When I made Aliyah to Israel last September, I knew another war with Iran was possible. So, on February 28th, when we all woke up to sirens, I wasn’t shocked. But I was surprised at how quickly ballistic missile attacks became almost a normal, routine part of reality.
Even so, as attacks continued with multiple impacts near where I live in Tel Aviv, I was still so glad that I had moved to Israel. Despite everything going on, I still wish I had done it 10 years ago. Now that I am here, I can’t even remember the fears that held me back for so long.
Part of the reason I feel this way comes from the support and community I have built here in Tel Aviv, largely with olim, and specifically those who were on my Aliyah flight.
Nearly seven months later, a group of us from the flight, organized by Nefesh B’Nefesh, in partnership with the Ministry of Aliyah and Integration, the Jewish Agency for Israel, Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael, and Jewish National Fund-USA, are in touch almost daily in an online chat group.
The group was born out of what I call “the Israel effect,” the phenomenon of people gravitating toward each other, looking for ways to help or get to know new people.
This happens in bomb shelters, at the grocery store, in the street — and it happened on our flight. Pretty immediately, I started talking to another olah who was sitting next to me on the plane. When we landed, we ended up in the airport waiting to complete the process of immigration with several other olim our age. We discussed everything from where we were from to where we were going to live and work, to our reasons for moving across the world and our army processes. Because we were starting a similar chapter of life, the connection was natural.
Eleven of us opened a group chat that day called “Aliyah Buddies.” At first, our questions revolved around finding ulpans and learning how to settle bureaucratic matters like converting our drivers licenses. Even though I had plenty of Israeli relatives on my father’s side of the family who were excited to accompany me to the Interior Ministry or the bank, this group was still a lifeline.
It was a place for us to put all of our worries, our doubts, and our struggles, and to be supported by the other people in the group who were experiencing the same problems. We moved from practical matters to inviting people out to events, planning reunions, asking for help choosing LinkedIn pictures, and giving general life updates. No matter what time of day or what the topic was, there was always somebody willing to help, encourage, or commiserate.
“I love this chat,” one member wrote in the Fall after a fellow group member posted photos of a single friend looking for a relationship. Just recently, a friend in the group chat got engaged and invited us all to her engagement party.
Under missile fire, this feeling is amplified. Shortly after the war’s first sirens, someone posted “Everyone good?” with a heart emoji. That led to everyone checking in from places across the country, then discussing the Home Front Command’s system of early warnings, alerts, and all-clears. In the weeks since, there have been constant check-ins along with photos from shelters, sharing fears and stress as well as more humorous stories about missile alerts interrupting showers.
In a post October 7th world, these connections are more meaningful to me, especially after I, like so many others, went through several friendship losses in the wake of the attacks. Friends who I had known for years unfollowed me or blocked me without so much as a single word. It doesn’t compare to what the State or people of Israel went through, but I definitely lost my spark for months, and felt guilty that I was living a safe, comfortable life in the Diaspora while so many were fighting and losing their lives here in Israel. Now, being here and building new communities like we’ve done in our group chat means everything to me.
Aliyah has shown me, more than anything, how deeply we as Jewish people care for one another — even if we don’t fully know them yet. What I didn’t fully understand before I moved to Israel was the strength of the community here. The sense of camaraderie among immigrants, the way people show up for each other — it makes the challenges of building a life here seem doable.
Anyone considering aliyah should understand that coming to Israel doesn’t solve all of your problems. But I’m finally in the right place, the place that feeds my soul, and where everything comes together. It is exhausting, frustrating and has challenged me in countless ways, but it is more amazing and fulfilling than I could have hoped — and at the end of the day, that’s what counts.
Arielle Gur made Aliyah to Tel Aviv in September 2025 out of love for her family, the country, and the people of Israel.