The Kriegsmarine Black Sea Fleet ship was among 200 vessels the Nazis scuttled in August 1944 to prevent them being captured by the advancing Red Army. Some 8,000 German soldiers and civilians who had been on board fled on foot to escape capture by the Soviets.

The shipwreck will be checked for remaining explosives and then displayed to the public.

“Every ship that is extracted undergoes a thorough inspection with the dismantling of any remaining explosives,” Serbian Minister of Construction, Transport, and Infrastructure Goran Vesić said. “This process takes about 10 days.”

Serbia plans to salvage another 21 of the vessels from the Danube in the E.U.-funded project in the coming months, with an estimated 80 others slated to be removed at a later date.

As the water level in the river drops due to summer heat and drought, parts of these wrecks often emerge, hindering navigation.

To read more content visit www.jns.org

The temporary injunction, from U.S. District Judge Mark Scarsi, is one of the most significant legal rulings to follow the spread of pro-Palestinian encampments, which protesters organized on campuses across the country last spring. It comes in response to a handful of Jewish students suing UCLA, alleging that they were briefly barred from entering a campus space that had been occupied this spring by people protesting Israel’s military campaign in Gaza.

In his comments, the judge wrote that he was appalled at the state of campus affairs for Jewish students.

“In the year 2024, in the United States of America, in the State of California, in the City of Los Angeles, Jewish students were excluded from portions of the UCLA campus because they refused to denounce their faith,” Scarsi wrote.

“This fact is so unimaginable and so abhorrent to our constitutional guarantee of religious freedom that it bears repeating, Jewish students were excluded from portions of the UCLA campus because they refused to denounce their faith,” he added, with emphasis.

UCLA’s encampments attracted particular scrutiny in April after campus police failed to promptly intervene when protesters erected physical barricades on campus, preventing pro-Israel students from crossing. School security instead instructed Jewish students to avoid the encampments. Pro-Israel counterprotesters attacked the encampment soon afterward, leading to violent clashes and arrests and to Congressional testimony from the school’s Jewish outgoing chancellor, Gene Block.

The judge said the fact that a public university’s staff was aiding any behavior that excluded Jewish students, instead of stopping it, violated the First Amendment. Without specifying what steps UCLA should take to rectify the problem, he said the school needs to ensure that all campus locations and activities are open to all students.

The ruling was praised by Jewish plaintiff Yitzchok Frankel, a rising third-year UCLA law student, and by Becket, a law firm specializing in religious liberty that sued the school on Frankel’s behalf.

“I am grateful that the court has ordered UCLA to put a stop to this shameful anti-Jewish conduct,” Frankel said in a press release. Attorney Mark Rienzi said in the release, “Today’s ruling says that UCLA’s policy of helping antisemitic activists target Jews is not just morally wrong but a gross constitutional violation.”

A spokesperson for UCLA criticized the ruling to the Los Angeles Times, saying it would “improperly hamstring our ability to respond to events on the ground.” They added that the school is “considering all options moving forward”; the university had previously indicated it could appeal. UCLA’s fall semester for law students begins this month.

Lawyers for the university had argued during a hearing that UCLA wasn’t at fault for the protesters’ behavior, and that the school had sought to non-violently de-escalate the encampments without involving police. Campus police instead took a strategy of enforcing “neutral zones” once the encampments formed, as a way of preventing altercations, the attorneys said. Other schools had faced criticism from some corners for sending in law enforcement to immediately break up encampments and make arrests.

The injunction is “a significant decision, one that has legal consequences,” Michael Helfand, a professor of law and religion at Pepperdine University’s law school and a legal advisor for education matters with the Orthodox Union, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

He noted that, unlike many of the most prominent schools that have dealt with encampments, UCLA is a public university and subject to the First Amendment — including the right to free religious expression. Pro-Palestinian protesters at some other public universities, including Portland State University and Cal Poly Humboldt, took over school buildings and similarly prevented others on campus from accessing them.

As more universities are facing — and settling — lawsuits from Jewish students over their handling of the encampments, Helfand said the UCLA case could have “spillover effects” even at private schools like Harvard (where a judge ruled last week that a lawsuit alleging it failed to protect Jewish students can go to trial).

“The opinion is written in a way that really lays down the gauntlet,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to be a university that says, ‘I’m not abiding by what the judge in the UCLA case said.’”

Scarsi also wrote that he accepted the Jewish students’ claim that “supporting the state of Israel is their sincerely held religious belief,” negating one of the key arguments pro-Palestinian groups have made in favor of the encampments — that protesting the state of Israel is not the same as targeting Jews. Many encampments, including at UCLA, have included anti-Zionist Jews. Helfand said the judge’s views on the question were significant as well.

“It doesn’t matter if there are Jewish students in the encampment or if there are other people who don’t believe these things,” he said. “The only question is, what do the plaintiffs believe?”

Earlier this summer UCLA announced it was appointing Julio Frenk, a descendant of Jewish immigrants who fled to Mexico in the 1930s, as its next permanent chancellor. Frenk, currently president of the University of Miami, was previously a Harvard dean.

To read more content visit www.jta.org

Gidi Dar, who directed the film, told JNS that it has taken on renewed significance in the aftermath of tension in Israel over both judicial reform prompted by the government of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and the terrorist attacks by Hamas on Oct. 7.

“An absolute turn—a complete change in all levels and layers of understanding of the situation,” Dar said. “Eventually, unity depends on us, and that if we are not able to work together, to compromise, we’re going to a bad place.”

“But we do have a lesson over here. We know what we should do. The question is: Can we do it?” Dar added. “Specifically, to work together. People in Israel, for example, understand that they have to work together in the current situation, which is very tense.”

‘From baseless hatred to baseless love’

The Hebrew film has won four Ophir Awards—the Jewish state’s equivalent of an Oscar—out of seven nominations. Naftali Bennett, then-Israeli prime minister, endorsed it, as did Israeli President Isaac Herzog, who has recommended that it become part of the country’s high school curriculum.

Dar penned the script, which is inspired by Talmudic accounts and the writings of Josephus, with Shuli Rand. The English re-release features the voice-over talent of the Oscar-nominated actor Elliott Gould (the only Jewish actor among the voice-over actors) as Rabban Yochanan Ben Zakkai.

The plot follows Ben Batich (voiced by Oscar Isaac), who turns from a dedicated student of his uncle, Zakkai, to zealotry. At 80, Zakkai is guided by strong faith, amid corruption surrounding the Temple and its agents, and the moral tugs-of-war of Judean Queen Berenice (Evangeline Lilly), great-granddaughter of King Herod, who largely oversees the Temple and Jerusalem.

Daphna Pollak, a local activist, together with Canadians for Israel and a consortium of partner organizations, brought the film to Toronto for an Aug. 11 screening, which drew about 280 people.

She had already seen it in Hebrew, and when she learned that the Lincoln Square Synagogue in New York was screening an English version on July 14, she knew she wanted to bring it to her city as well.

“It was the same perspective as seeing a Holocaust film,” Pollak told JNS. “But this time, the Jewish people brought the tragedy among themselves.”

“It just dovetails with what’s happening with Israeli politics and that makes it all the more painful at this time,” she added. “We can trace back the problem ever since biblical times when Joseph was sold to slavery by his brothers. When we treat each other with love and respect, and when we stand united, nothing can harm us.”

“But when we are divided and allow our negative feelings to dominate, our enemies take advantage of us, and we’re at their mercy,” Pollak added. “History has taught us that. It’s the classic message of Tisha B’Av. I hope that we will turn from baseless hatred to baseless love, and we will turn this chapter of our history from destruction to one of unity, heroism and victory.”

‘An unknown road’

Dar told World Mizrachi that he read a book about Josephus in 2013 that made him want to create a documentary about the destruction of the Temple and of Jerusalem. Knowing the budget for such an endeavor would be prohibitive, he commissioned artists David Polonsky and Michael Faust (the two behind the Oscar-nominated 2008 animated war docu-drama “Waltz with Bashir”) to create the 1,500 paintings.

The artists were inspired by, among others, the Italian artist Caravaggio (1571-1610); the 20th-century British painter Francis Bacon; and Norwegian artist Edvard Munch (1863-1944). The two were also reportedly inspired by images on ancient pottery and by the examples of contemporary Israelis, including Rabbi Menachem Froman of Tekoa in the Gush Etzion region of Judea, who died in 2013. The artists modeled Ben Zakkai on the latter.

“I was on an unknown road, creating this film,” Dar told JNS. “Unknown in many ways—first of all, cinematically, this technique, but also in terms of dealing with this subject story.”

“Most of us don’t really know the story, including myself,” he acknowledged.

Dar told JNS that the voice actors aren’t merely doing voice-overs. “They are really great actors, and it took really great actors to do it stylistically well,” he said.

In an unreleased “behind the scenes” video that JNS viewed, Billy Zane, who voices Simeon Bar Giora, notes that “the delivery system was so unique and exciting.”

“You feel like you’re watching something that’s completely in motion,” Lilly added.

“This style of animation—I don’t think anyone’s done before,” she said in the video. “Even though it was a more restricted medium, I was amazed at how alive it became. Almost more alive than it would be if it were a moving picture where every detail was answered for me.”

To read more content visit www.jns.org

His parents, Marla Covin Cooper and Ross Cooper, younger brother Ethan and grandfather Jerry were visiting him in Israel when he died, and ahead of his funeral a request went out to the public saying that they were inviting members of the public to “come and accompany him on his final journey so that he won’t be alone in death.”

At his funeral held after the Jewish mourning day of Tisha B’Av, his father thanked those gathered for answering the family’s call. “This is the reason he came to this country, to protect in ways other than faith,” he said.

Ethan Cooper said that after serving completing his initial service in Israel, his brother joined the war effort in Ukraine as a volunteer. “Jordan is the truest embodiment of selflessness I have ever known,” he said.

Jordan, who was from Garnet Valley, Pennsylvania, attended Camp Ramah in the Poconos for several years, where the camp said he would be “fondly remembered by his camp friends for always having a smile on his face and bringing joy and laughter to those around him.” He moved to Israel in 2018 through the Garin Tzabar program for lone soldiers.

“I have lived my whole life in an area with a very small Jewish population. Growing up in the type of town that I did, I learned very quickly that a Jew can very easily become an outsider,” Cooper told Haaretz in 2018 when he arrived in the country. “My reason for wanting to move to Israel is that I wish to serve in the IDF. I feel it is my responsibility as a Jew to protect future Jewish generations so they can live in their homeland without fear of persecution.”

After completing his service in the Nahal infantry brigade, Cooper returned to the United States where he attended university. He came back to Israel after Oct. 7 as part of the country’s mass mobilization of reservists. His 200 days of reserve duty ended on July 18.

Cooper’s mother is the former chief development officer at the Jewish Federation of Delaware and a recent president of the family’s synagogue, Congregation Beth Shalom in Wilmington, Delaware.

According to accounts shared widely in Israeli media, the family said Cooper’s mother had purchased halva at a market on Monday after receiving assurances by the seller that it did not contain any nuts. After Cooper suffered a severe allergic reaction, he received an epipen injection but later collapsed and died.

The Israeli couple who “adopted” Cooper during his time in the country, in keeping with a tradition for soldiers who have no other family in the country, Shlomo and Patty Asur, told Ynet that after Oct. 7, he had planned to stay in Israel.

“He planned to build a life here, marry his girlfriend and start a family,” said Shlomo Asur. “He rented a house in Rishon LeZion and planned to join the Border Police as a career officer.”

The family is sitting shiva in Tel Aviv before returning to the United States.

To read more content visit www.jta.org

“I said, ‘Yeah, bring it on.’ What are you going to do about it? Come at me, you know,” Weissbluth told JNS on the sidelines of the recent Israel on Campus Coalition summit in Washington, D.C. “I’ve become more and more confident in my own skin, and I’m trying to pass along that strength to my fellow Jews.”

About a dozen other students who spoke with JNS at the event felt somewhat differently.

Elisha Baker, a junior studying Middle East history at Columbia University in New York City, told JNS that he figured he could handle the situation until the anti-Israel encampments surfaced.

“Once that shifted to kind of a 24/7 protest, where there were also not just insiders but outsiders mixing and sneaking things and people through the gates, it was dangerous,” he said. “Jewish students were assaulted on campus.”

‘Proud of my identity’

Netanel Crispe, who studies U.S. history at Yale University in New Haven, Conn., said that he knows “that it’s likely I will deal with some kind of physical confrontation at some point.”

“Many of our members of our community, including myself, have received death threats and different things on social media or in person,” he added.

Imani Chung, a psychology and women’s studies double major at Stony Brook University on Long Island, N.Y., who is a Jamaican Jew, told JNS that she felt unsafe presenting before a class on “Jamaican Jewish ancestry.”

“The people that were in my class were at the encampment calling for intifadas,” Chung said.

Bali Lavine, a senior double-majoring in public health and Jewish studies at Tulane University in New Orleans, is president of the school’s Students Supporting Israel chapter. “Everybody should be able to live in peace, both in the Middle East and on campus, and everybody deserves to feel safe,” she said. “It’s really hard when Zionists feel unsafe on campus, when riots do break out and when there is violence at these encampments and rallies.”

“There have been numerous times where I don’t feel physically safe,” she added. “Mentally for the past 10 months, this has taken a huge toll on me.”

“I don’t feel like I’m welcomed on my campus,” Lavine said. “I feel maybe that my Asian heritage is, but not my Jewish identity, and I think that’s what’s really hard is I deserve to walk on this campus and be a student, and be proud of every aspect of my identity.”

To read more content visit www.jns.org

“We are here on Tisha B’Av, at the Temple Mount, to commemorate the destruction of the Holy Temple. As I said—our policy is to allow prayer,” he said.

The minister added that he had visited the Temple Mount to pray for “the return of the hostages, the peace of the soldiers and victory in the war.”

Fellow Otzma Yehudit Party member and Development of the Periphery, the Negev and the Galilee Minister Yitzhak Wasserlauf joined Ben-Gvir, along with hundreds of other Jewish worshippers. Dozens of pilgrims prostrated themselves in prayer, in violation of the status quo that forbids Jews from praying on the Temple Mount.

Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee member Amit Halevi of the Likud Party also visited the site.

Following Ben-Gvir’s visit and remarks, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s office released a statement emphasizing that “it is the government and the prime minister who determine policy on the Temple Mount. There is no private policy of any minister—not the national security minister or any other minister—on the Temple Mount. Thus it has been under all governments of Israel.”

The statement continued: “This morning’s incident on the Temple Mount deviated from the status quo. Israel’s policy on the Temple Mount has not changed; this is how it has been and this is how it will be.”

Police detained 40 Israelis who visited the site after waving Israeli flags, kneeling or lying on the ground. Twenty-nine of them were warned and 11 were detained for investigation, according to Kan News. Some of the visitors sang Israel’s national anthem.

No security incidents were reported.

A spokesman for Palestinian Authority chief Mahmoud Abbas described Ben-Gvir’s ascent as a “provocation” and warned of violent consequences.

“We demand that the U.S. administration intervene immediately to force the occupation government to stop these provocations against the holy religious sites, preserve the historical and legal status in the city of Jerusalem, and stop the aggression against Palestinian people in the Gaza Strip, and the attacks in the West Bank [Judea and Samaria] if it wants to prevent the region from exploding in an uncontrollable manner,” said Nabil Abu Rudeineh.

Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant also criticized the visit, saying that “there is a fireman sitting in the Israeli government who is trying to set fire to the Middle East. He opposes any negotiations, to bring him into the War Cabinet—this will allow him to realize his plans,” he said, apparently referring to Ben-Gvir.

MK Moshe Gafni, head of the United Torah Judaism Party, said, “The damage [Ben-Gvir] is causing to the Jewish people is unbearably great, and this adds to the gratuitous hatred on the day of the destruction of the Temple.” He added that UTJ “will have to check … if we can be partners with him, and we will make this clear to the prime minister as well.”

The Chief Rabbinate of Israel has upheld a Halakhic (Jewish legal) prohibition on Jews visiting and praying at the Temple Mount.

“The elders of the generation and the Chief Rabbinate Council of Israel have already enumerated and decreed and agreed with all force to erect a fence and warn with a stern warning that no one should enter the Temple Mount area,” said Interior Minister Moshe Arbel of the Shas Party.

Opposition leader and Yesh Atid Party head Yair Lapid also slammed the visit.

“Ben-Gvir’s election campaign on the Temple Mount, in complete opposition to the position of the security forces, during a war, endangers the lives of Israeli citizens and the lives of our soldiers and policemen,” he said.

“The group of irresponsible extremists in the government is trying hard to drag Israel into an all-out regional war. These people cannot run a country,” he added.

In June, Ben-Gvir said he intends to allow all Jews to openly pray at Judaism’s holiest site, changing the status quo that has existed there since 1967.

The status quo against Jewish prayer at the Temple Mount was never ratified in legislation. There are various references to it over the years by all branches of government, but not in a way that grants it an independent legal status.

In response to that statement, the Israel Police declared that Jewish prayer remains prohibited on the Temple Mount. The PMO also disavowed Ben-Gvir’s words.

Since the beginning of the Hebrew year, nearly 48,000 Jews have visited the Temple Mount, according to data compiled by Beyadenu, an Israeli NGO dedicated to strengthening the Jewish connection to the site.

To read more content visit www.jns.org

Interestingly, the ayin, the last letter of the Hebrew word “Hear,” is written large in the Torah scroll, as is the daled, the last letter of the Hebrew word for “One.” Different readings of the combined letters ayin and daled may reveal why this is so.

The letters ayin-daled can be read ed, which means “to bear witness.” In reading the “Hear O Israel,” one is in effect testifying that God exists (Baal Haturim).

This is reminiscent of the time when Jacob and Esau make a peace treaty near a mound of stones called gal’ed, literally a mound (gal) of testimony (ed; Genesis 31:46–48).

Alternatively, the letters ayin-daled can be read ad, which means “until.” In other words, no matter one’s belief in God, it can never be perfect, never absolutely absolute. One can come until the Lord but never quite reach Him.

This is similar to the text describing repentance – “and you shall return until [ad] the Lord your God,” as no one can ever return fully to God (Deuteronomy 30:2).

Finally, the letters ayin-daled can be read od, meaning “still.” This perhaps accentuates that, against all odds, Jews throughout history in the darkest of times still declared belief in God.

This is similar to the use of the word od when Joseph reveals himself to his brothers, asking, “Ha’od avi chai?” (Is my father still alive? Genesis 45:3). In amazement, Joseph rhetorically asks, Having endured so much, is my father still alive?

These three ideas deserve mention during the Shabbat when Parashat Va’etchanan is read, the first of the seven weeks leading up to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. After all, the High Holidays are days when we serve as witnesses and proclaim the rulership of God, creator of the world; when we seek to repent while knowing that we will never fully realize repentance; and when we recognize that, no matter how far we’ve strayed, no matter the setbacks, we will overcome – our relationship with God remains close, reaching higher and higher.

We believe in God, and God believes in us.

Candle lighting

Va’etchanan parsha

August 16th at 7:37 p.m.

“I was born April 23rd, 1929 in Vienna, Austria. My father’s name was Isadore Roth and my mother was Marjian Rubin. I have an older sister, Regina. My younger siblings, Susie and Irwin, are both deceased. Prior to Germany’s invasion, I recall a happy family life. My father made a comfortable living as a linen importer. We lived in a beautiful apartment. The centerpiece of our home was a Steinway piano on which I took lessons. My mother lit candles every Shabbat and my siblings and I always received new clothes on Passover. Antisemitic attitudes in the public school I attended indicated that horrific times were just ahead.”

Herta recalled Germany’s invasion of Austria

“On March 13th, 1938 Hitler marched into Vienna and our lives were forever changed. It was Sunday and the entire family was seated in the dining room when all the terror began. A wave of violence and deportations against the Jewish community followed in Vienna and other cities throughout the German Reich during the spring, summer and autumn of 1938 culminating in the Kristallnacht riots and violence in November. My father was arrested at the Czech border when he tried to enter Poland without the proper documentation to sell his merchandise. He was released after being imprisoned for six weeks. After a gentile dentist took over our apartment, my mother, siblings and I moved into my uncle’s much smaller apartment. In the summer of 1939, my mother made arrangements for Regina, Susie and I to immigrate to America.”

Herta reflected on her move to America

“In August 1939 when I was 10 years old, my mother made arrangements for my sisters and I to move to New York where my Uncle Herman lived. My mother was able to obtain visas for us since we were born in Austria. She was originally from Poland, so she was unable to join us. When we boarded a train at the station in Vienna it was the last time we saw my mother and brother. They stayed behind and we found out years later that they were killed in a concentration camp. I never saw my father again either. Years later I discovered that my father had tried unsuccessfully to get my mother and brother released by offering to trade jewels for their freedom. After boarding the train in Vienna, my sisters and I traveled to Paris where one of my uncles met us. We were hungry and I remember my uncle serving us onion soup. From Paris we boarded a train to Le Havre, France, a  major port city located on the banks of the English Channel. We crossed the English Channel by ferry. I remember the Channel currents being very rough. In Liverpool, England, we boarded The Laconia, a British ocean liner that took us across the Atlantic Ocean. My sisters and I arrived in New York on August 23rd, 1939 and stayed for a few days with my Uncle Herman. Susie and I went to live with another uncle (my father’s brother) in Brooklyn while Regina stayed with my mother’s friends. When my aunt received news that my paternal grandmother was moving to America from Europe, Susie and I had to find another place to live.”

Herta recalled moving to the Pleasantville Cottage School

“With the help of the Jewish Federation, Regina, Susie and I moved into the Pleasantville Cottage School located in Westchester County. Regina lived with the older girls while Susie and I remained with our age group. PCS was founded by the Hebrew Sheltering Guardian Society and is located on 160 acres. I remained at PCS until I was 13 and then moved into a foster home located in the Bronx.”

Herta recalled living in foster homes

“Susie and I lived together in a foster home owned by a milkman and his wife. I remember my foster mother ordering me to wash the kitchen floor at 11 o’clock in the evening when I had school the next morning. I responded by saying, ‘I’m night going to wash the floor tonight and be too tired to go to school tomorrow.’ I was taught never to speak back to adults, but what she was asking of me wasn’t right. In my second foster home I was a babysitter for my foster parents. Everything was fine until one day the husband put his arm around me when no one was home and told me how much the family liked me. I was scared and called the social worker. She reassured me that I would be safely placed in another home within 24 hours. She also told me not to report the incident since the couple had been married more than 30 years. I didn’t like to lie and told the couple that I had to leave without any further explanation. In the third foster home I lived in, I was very happy and remained there until I was married.”

Herta recalled life following foster care

“After finishing high school I enrolled in business school and got a job working for an import/export company. I met my husband, Leonard, when I went with two girlfriends to the Jersey Shore for the weekend. Through a chance encounter I met Leonard who was accompanied by his two friends while I was out walking with my friends. Leonard and I married on March 26, 1950. Leonard was a second generation American who had flown 35 missions over Germany while serving in the US Air Force during World War II. I loved the fact that he had bombed Germany. We lived in Little Neck and then bought a home in Plainview, Long Island. We lived in Orlando after moving to Florida. Twenty years ago we moved to South Florida. We have three children (two sons and a daughter), six grandchildren and four great grandchildren. Leonard passed away in 2015 after 65 years of marriage.”

Herta shared her words of wisdom

“Be happy, smile and don’t let your troubles get the best of you.”

I’ve asked myself that question many times and I honestly don’t know.

The people I’m going to tell you about never had to think about this. They believed it to be their responsibility, the code of honor by which they lived. To give you some context for these stories, in 2017 I took a class at Oxford university. When I first got there, I needed to take a taxi to my bed-and-breakfast. As we drove through the town, I had a friendly
conversation with the taxi driver. When he asked me my name, and I told him Shoshana, he wondered what that meant. I said, “It means Rose in Hebrew.” He then inquired, “Hebrew, like Israel?” and I responded, “yes.“

He proceeded to tell me that he was part Christian and part Muslim, having grown up in Albania. Then he very excitedly talked about his grandfather being in the resistance during World War II. He proudly stated that Albanians hid and saved all the Jews in their country, and that everybody always got along, Jews, Christians, Roman Catholics and Muslims. In fact, Christians would celebrate Ramadan with their Muslim friends, and Muslims would celebrate Christmas with their Christian friends. They saw everyone as equal.

I thought this was an amazing story, and I started investigating. To my surprise, I discovered that Albania started out with 200 Jews when the war began, and ended up with 2,000 Jews, the only country in the world with more Jews at the end of the war than less. Many from other countries heard that the Albanians would save them from the Nazis. When the Germans entered Tirana, the capital, they set up a puppet government. The head of the puppet government was Albanian, and secretly ordered all citizens to save the Jews and provide them with fake passports. Further, they repeatedly refused to comply with the Nazi request for the submission of a list of Jewish residents.

I felt puzzled. How is it that there are so many countries in this world, including our own, where there is so much hatred of the “other”. Yet here is a small country, one that most people have never even heard of, where the citizens believe and live by a code of honor called Besa, to keep the promise, and take care of others. Besa dictates that there are no foreigners, only guests, and that guests must be protected at all costs. It is central to Albanian life and central to national identity.

I decided I needed to go to Albania and interview people whose family members had saved Jews during the Holocaust. I felt compelled to hear their stories. Soon after my arrival in Albania, Eddie, my guide and translator, introduced me to Tosi, a Moslem. He burst with pride as he played Israeli music that a friend had sent him from Jerusalem. I felt so delighted and experienced that special connection to being Jewish. I wanted to take his hands and teach him how to do the hora, an Israeli dance. Then he showed me certificates and medals his father, Beqir, received from Yad Vashem, the most prestigious Holocaust museum in the world, located in Jerusalem, where they referred to him as Righteous Among the Nations.

He proceeded to tell me the family story, as we sat in the courtyard of the very house where they hid Avram and his family, Jews from Greece. I could look up to the second floor windows and know that, that was where Avram lived for six months. He was isolated, but safe. In Greece, most Jews were betrayed to the Nazis, but many heard that if they came to Albania, they would be protected. Since this was a large family, they divided them up into different homes for their own safety. As well, an Eastern Orthodox priest printed fake Albanian passports for Avram and his family. After six months, the Nazis began circling their community. They dressed Avram up as a villager, so that they could take him into the mountains to stay with other family members. As the Nazis approached the group on their way to the mountains, there was fear in Avram’s heart. One of the Nazi soldiers asked their translator, who was Albanian, if there were any Jews amongst this group. He indicated that they were all villagers, knowing full well that one of them was a Jew. What a relief that they could now safely continue up the mountain.

Avram stayed with the family for a year until the war ended. At that time, Avram’s father kissed the hand of Tosi’s father, thanking him for saving his son’s life, stating that he will never forget them. When the war was over, Tosi saw Avram taking something out of his pocket. He asked Avram, “What are you doing? I don’t want your money. We did this for Besa, for honor.”

After the war, communists took over the country for 30 years, wanting the Jews to stay, seeing them as clever people. Avram spoke several languages. He stayed and worked as an economist at 25 years old. He defied the Nazis by moving to Israel and living until age 91. People in the neighborhood referred to Tosi and his family as Jewish, even though they were Muslim, because of how they protected Jews. They felt honored by this and took it as a compliment. Tosi promised his dad to carry on his legacy so people will know what happened and so it should never be forgotten.

Hiding Jews in plain sight seemed to be a common theme. An Albanian woman I spoke to in California told me that her grandfather hid two or three Jews in his shop where he sold food. He helped them out in the back of the store. One time the grandfather rode off on his horse, taking one of the Jews with him to Yugoslavia to buy and sell food, after dressing him in Albanian clothes. All went well. The next day we went to visit Ajet in a very old hill town called Berat. His father had been a blacksmith. While the war tore through nearby countries, a young Jewish man found Ajet’s family. He felt so scared that he wouldn’t even tell them his name. So the shopkeepers called him “boy“. They wanted to hide him in their homes but he preferred to stay in the shop. It felt safer to him. During the day he helped the
blacksmith, pretending to be a local. In the evening, he slept in the back where they set up a bed and gave him food. He appeared to be about 18 years old and possibly came from Yugoslavia. He stayed from 1943 to 1944. All the craftsmen in the neighborhood were in this together. No one spied. Nobody disclosed.

During this time, the Nazis checked some nearby houses, but fortunately never looked in the shop. Ayet’s father gave him money when he left, only asking that he inform them of his destination. Unfortunately, to their disappointment, his father never heard from him again. He thought maybe they killed him. He didn’t even know his name. As Ayet spoke, he kept referring to Besa, and that it meant to just be nice, to show kindness. Nobody told them about it, just a natural behavior passed down from generation to generation. When they saw a local family taking in a Jewish family, then they did the same. “You come into my house and I will protect you.”

Many other Jews were hidden in this neighborhood. As Nazis got closer, Jews would leave the town and go to other villages that felt safer. Many came from Russia, Turkey, Poland, Greece and Yugoslavia. Initially, the Jews came from Spain during the Inquisition. They would go to the port, Vlora, where they were involved in trade near a street called the Jewish Road.

Fatima, in Krujë, had a similar story. Her grandfather, Suliman, met a family of seven in the street. One of them said that they were homeless. Of course, he showed them hospitality and kindness and invited them into his home. His children played with their children. The grandmother fed them and cleaned them. They became family. The people in the neighborhood referred to Fatima’s family as “those are the Jewish family,” even though they were Muslim. They also took this as a compliment. They felt proud that people would call them that. She then mentioned Besa, no one telling on anyone. She said, “Even the bad people in the neighborhood didn’t disclose because it was against the code of honor.” During the communist era, they weren’t allowed to talk about what happened. Suliman did tell his son but nobody else. When the country became independent, the Jewish family returned from Israel to say thank you. Later on, Suliman also received a certificate from Yad Vashem that Fatima so proudly displayed.

Eddie, my guide, took me to visit his best friend, Gladiola, whose family has lived in their house, inside the walls of a 4th century castle, for six generations, from the mid 1800’s. First she gave me a tour of their home, including photos and mannequins with traditional clothing from the 1800s. The house felt very sturdy and impenetrable. You had to walk quite a bit uphill in order to get to the top where the castle is situated. She told me that a family down the road hid Jews for six months during the war. At the same time, eight Germans came to her grandparents’ home and demanded, “We are going to live here for the next three months” and, of course, the family had no choice. They were frightened, but her grandmother had to feed them and keep house for them while she was pregnant. Gladiola’s father was born while the Nazis occupied their home. They did stay those three months, never knowing about the Jews who were hiding down the block.

In anticipation of these conversations, I prepared a series of questions. As it turns out, I never had to ask even one of those questions. All seemed eager to tell me their stories. It seemed to be their way of letting me know why they saved not only the Albanian Jews, but all the others that came to hide from other countries.

As I reflect back on the interviews and these wonderful, gracious people, I ask myself again, “Could I do what they did?” I still don’t know. I admire those individuals that don’t question, just do it. In this case, it was just not individuals, but a national consciousness, a cultural institution of Besa that emphasizes aiding and protecting people in moments of need. The world should take notice.

Shoshana Brower is a social justice advocate/activist and world traveler.

She settled on a compromise: She wouldn’t go on the vacation to Israel’s border with Jordan — but she also wouldn’t remain hunkered down at home.

“I’m not going to play with destiny to that degree,” she said about her vacation plans.

“But I am going out,” she added. “I don’t want to stop my life because of a ‘what if.’ We’re living in a situation but the best we can do is understand we’re not in control and just surrender to that fact.”

For months, Israelis across the country have faced similar decisions, as daily life goes on amidst a multi-front conflict that has regularly spilled over into population centers and left once-popular recreation spots deserted. Israelis have gotten used to a constant cognitive dissonance — surrounded by reminders of the war and all those who have been killed or taken hostage — while they go to work, send their children to school and, often, go out to eat or enjoy themselves despite the risks. That tension has only mounted as Israel braces for an attack from Iran after a strike on a Hamas leader in Tehran.

“It’s like living in 2 realities at the same time here,” Karin Hershkovitz, an Israeli influencer who lives in the United States but is visiting her family in Israel this summer, posted on Instagram last week. “Working, kids, ‘routine,’ partying and living life — while dealing with grief, actual threats and uncertainty constantly.”

Sometimes the contrast is striking. Hours after a drone shot from Yemen exploded blocks away from the Tel Aviv beach last month, killing a local worker, the shore was crowded with locals enjoying a weekend in the sun.

A group of families gathered for a weekly surfing class — only one had canceled in the wake of the strike — and the traffic of cars, bikes, scooters and pedestrians continued as normal. A passerby, surrounded by busy cafes and shops, would be forgiven for not knowing the bustling area had been the site of an international terror attack that morning.

“I thought about not coming for like half a second but to be honest, I’m far more concerned about jellyfish,” Ofer Zimri said laughing.

The overcrowded beach indicated that others shared Zimri’s sentiment. Near the water, a couple sat on the sand drinking beer.

“Life here happens at such a crazy pace, that you forget. One day, there’s an attack, and the next it’s business as usual,” Amit Mizrahi said.

But like many Israelis, he had made some life changes following Oct. 7. He obtained a license for a weapon, then the gun itself, and stays vigilant in public places, constantly scanning for exits and monitoring for suspicious activity.

“Just last week there was a terror attack near my house in Rishon Lezion,” he said, referencing a car-ramming attack in which a soldier was killed and three more wounded. “But it doesn’t matter what happens, I still feel safe. Because it’s our home, you know?”

For many Israelis, the losses of Oct, 7 and the war have been close and personal. A man named Ziv had a childhood friend who was killed at the Nova music festival, and another friend who lost both legs fighting in Gaza. Ziv said he is waiting to be called up to the army again.

In the meantime, Ziv was skateboarding at a nearby park. During a rest between kickflips, he waxed lyrical about life in the shadow of war.

“Life is the medicine for the opposite of life, which is loss,” he said. “My life is on pause but I’m trying to go back to routine as much as possible. I go to the psychologist, I go skateboarding. The movement is good, it brings down the pain and the stress.”

Some Israelis see going out as a demonstration of defiance. At a recent concert headlined by Jewish American rapper Kosha Dillz, Michelle Long said she feels a responsibility not to give way to depression or, as she termed it, “drop the ball.”

“We’re all living double lives. You see something bad has happened, your heart flips and then you put your phone back in your pocket and continue,” she said.

“Well, sometimes you can continue like normal,” she continued. “Other times you act completely crazy. And sometimes you don’t even know what’s affecting your behavior any more.”

Noah Shufutinsky, one of the night’s opening acts who performs under his rap name Westside Gravy, said his music has changed significantly since Oct. 7.

“The new normal means that I’m not going to go and perform regular songs that I perform at any other time. I’m not going to make music just for the fun of it,” Shufutinsky said. “A lot of that for me has shifted to talking about the issues that Israelis are going through and trying to reflect a little bit of the society that I’m a part of now, through music.”

For Kim Feldman, going to a rap concert or any other event involving tickets and advanced planning has become too daunting since Oct. 7. Instead, she said she enjoys simpler evenings with friends, such as a screening of “The Princess Bride” in a local park, part of a free weekly outdoor movie series.

“I can’t plan to party. I can plan to sit in the park,” Feldman said. “It’s really nice to go somewhere super relaxed and social but without going out of your way. It’s a comfortable socialization, with less pressure and less expectations.

Gesturing around her, she said, “Just look at the amount of babies and dogs there are here.”

Many Israelis say that the atmosphere in public is not the same as it was in the first couple of months of the war, when the shock of Oct. 7 was still raw. “Everything felt tainted and weird,” Feldman said.

“The thing that freaked me out was how few young men there were on the streets and then, how many of them were injured,” Feldman said of the hundreds of thousands who reported for military service. “It’s nine months later and in a way, the longer it goes on the harder it is. You’re not trying to be disrespectful but you’re trying to find a balance where you can continue to live as normally as possible.”

At a standup show, popular comedian Udi Kagan was interrupted by the sound of a newborn crying. He asked the infant’s mother how she could have planned to attend the evening when tickets sold out months in advance. The woman answered that she got the ticket from a reserve soldier who was called up to Gaza at the last moment.

“It just reflected the whole mood in the country,” said audience member Idan Cohen, who recalled the exchange. “You used to take things as a given, but now you can’t. From the smallest thing — like whether you’ll end up going to the standup comedy you bought tickets for — to the biggest thing, whether you’re safe in your bed at night.”

Cohen added, “But life carries on, especially for the kids. During the holidays it’s the hardest.”

Israelis have perhaps been quickest to change their plans when it comes to traveling and vacations. Anat Shihor-Aronson, a spokesperson for the Ministry of Tourism, cited two main reasons for the trend: many airlines have canceled flights due to the war, and many Israelis are reluctant to travel abroad, a feeling fueled both by increasing antisemitism overseas and a strong desire to be near their loved ones.

“If God forbid something happens, they’re staying in Israel so they can be close to home,” Shihor-Aronson said.

As a result, hotels in Israel are operating at 90 to 100% capacity, despite having only about 10 to 20% of the usual number of foreign tourists typically present during the summer months. The occupancy rates are also higher due to approximately 24,000 evacuees, mostly from Israel’s embattled northern region, who are currently residing in the hotels.

Shihor-Aronson expressed optimism about the future of foreign tourism, noting a steady rise in numbers even during wartime. While most of those arriving are Jewish and evangelical Christian tourists, whom she described as the “loyal market,” there have been more and more volunteer and solidarity groups visiting — at least until most airlines scrapped flights this week in response to the Iran threat.

Some Israelis, like Tamir, are canceling their trips altogether. Cohen nixed an annual family trip to a campsite in the north due to frequent Hezbollah attacks in the area.

“There are so many spots we can’t go to, Cohen said. “it’s just too dangerous.”

And while life has in many ways returned to normal in Israel’s cities, one visitor said that shift also reflects a dreary reality.

“The beach volleyball courts are full. Life goes on,” Jonathan Jaffe, a New York-based rabbi in the country for the third time since the outbreak of the war, wrote on Facebook after the Tel Aviv attack. “You can see this as either an uplifting story of resilience displayed by a community that refuses to bow to terror, or a less optimistic tale of a region that has become all too accustomed to mornings like this.”

To read more content visit www.jta.org