This article was produced as part of the New York Jewish Week’s Teen Journalism Fellowship, a program that works with Jewish teens around New York City to report on issues that affect their lives.

Since she was little, Lindsay, who recently graduated from a Jewish day school in New York City, had her heart set on attending Columbia University.

And so, throughout her high school career, Lindsay focused on crafting an Ivy League school-approved resume. As a freshman, she spent hours in the library, studying hard to ensure good grades. When she was a sophomore, she joined clubs and gained leadership roles both in and out of school. 

But as she completed her junior year in the aftermath of Hamas’ invasion of Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, when it became time to develop her college list, Lindsay realized she no longer felt the same way about Columbia. That’s largely because almost immediately after Oct. 7, students on campus began to protest Israel’s invasion of Gaza as well as the university’s investments in companies tied to Israel.

The elite uptown university quickly became ground zero for the campus pro-Palestinian campus movement, which left many Jewish students feeling scared or alienated from their peers. A study released last month by the Columbia University Task Force on Antisemitism found that more than half of Jewish students on campus — 53% — said they experienced discrimination over their religious identity in the 2023-2024 school year. 

Watching what happened from afar caused Lindsay to change her mind about Columbia. “Feeling safe in my Jewish identity became a priority in my college search,” said Lindsay, who did not feel comfortable sharing her last name while criticizing colleges in the current political environment. “I can’t ignore Jewish hatred on campus. I’ll be there soon.” 

She added: “I had lost respect for Ivies such as Columbia and Harvard. These schools fell further and further down my list.” 

Ultimately, last fall, Lindsay decided not to apply Early Decision to Columbia. Instead, she applied Early Decision to Washington University in St. Louis. Lindsay was accepted and she’ll begin her studies there this fall. 

Lindsay is hardly alone among Jewish students who, for safety and comfort reasons, are seeking colleges outside of the traditional elite schools in the Northeast. Nearly half of the top 25 schools in the country are in the Northeast, according to a 2019 Forbes evaluation of America’s top colleges. And while schools like Columbia, Wellesley, and Harvard might have been many Jewish high schoolers’ one time “dream schools,” that changed following the campus protests and allegations that harassment and antisemitism were not being addressed by administrators. As a result, some Jewish teens began seeking alternatives in the Midwest and the South.

Take Evan Glasberg, an alumnus of the Ramaz School, a Modern Orthodox day school on the Upper East Side, who just completed his freshman year at Duke University. “I got into Columbia and was highly considering it,” Glasberg said, adding that both his brother and father attended the Ivy League school. 

After speaking with some of his brother’s friends, who said they were deeply affected by the protests on campus — including some who questioned whether or not they should withhold their recognizably Jewish name — Glasberg said his decision was clear.

“These were things nobody should even have to consider, let alone follow through on,” Glasberg said. 

Picking up on such concerns from prospective Jewish college students, the Anti-Defamation League developed a grading system to reflect incidences of antisemitism on 135 college campuses across the country. Using survey data from students and school administrators  — responders were asked about a university’s policies and procedures, Jewish life on campus, and the prevalence of anti-Zionist incidents — the ADL assigned letter grades to public and private institutions throughout the country. 

Although the grading system was controversial — with critics saying it painted campuses with too broad a brush – students nevertheless consulted it during their search.  

Duke University, for example, received a B grade from ADL in both 2024 and 2025. Glasberg said that, in the spring of 2024, when he was deciding which school to attend, Duke had no reports of antisemitic incidents or any hostile anti-Zionist student government activity.

 “After my first year at Duke, I’ve felt extremely validated in my decision,” Glasberg said. “I rarely have to think about antisemitism, and I’m so grateful for that.”

One college adviser who works at a Modern Orthodox school in the Bronx said that many of her students who would normally apply to Brown, Columbia or Barnard universities are now looking outside of the Northeast entirely. The adviser, who agreed to share information about her school’s applications data as long as she and the school went unnamed, said that the University of Florida and Washington University in St. Louis are two schools that are currently attracting former Ivy League-bound students.

“Before Oct. 7, 2023, safety was not often a concern in students’ minds,” said the adviser. “However, especially for the class of 2026, their lists are widening to include schools they may not have considered prior to Oct. 7.” 

Both Harvard and Columbia have had to settle Title VI lawsuits accusing the university of failing to protect Jewish students from antisemitic harassment. The Trump administration has also canceled federal funding at Harvard, saying it was intended in part to curb campus antisemitism. 

Harvard experienced 17% fewer applicants overall in the Class of 2028’s Early Action round (these students applied in the fall of 2023 after the events of October 7). In general, students across the Northeast have begun to shift away from Northern schools and look towards the South. In addition to antisemitism concerns, the ease of the Common App, cheaper costs to attend, warmer weather, and more opportunities in growing metro areas have all influenced Northeast students’ college choices. 

This past fall, Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, North Carolina — which has a B grade from ADL — had an incoming class of 340 Jewish students, an increase of 13% from the previous year, according to the school’s press office. 

Ben Kudelka, a junior at Elon University in North Carolina, is elated with his decision to eschew a school in the Northeast. Kudelka, who is an alum of The Churchill School in Kips Bay, says he feels safe at the school.

Elon, Kudelka pointed out, received antisemitism training from Hillel to help create a positive campus climate for Jewish students. 

“Not only does Hillel take constructive measures against antisemitism, but they also foster a deep community,” Kudelka said. “Each Friday night, Chabad is filled to the brim with students, both Jewish and not, wanting to come together and celebrate Shabbat.” 

Specifically though, one of Kudelka’s favorite parts of practicing Judaism in the South is the ability to hold Shabbat services and celebrate major holidays such as Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanna and Passover outdoors. 

“I always feel when I’m outside I’m closer, more connected to God than indoors,” he said. “It’s easier to get to the sky.” 

Elon received an A from the ADL’s report card. Washington University in St. Louis earned a B, or “Better Than Most.” Harvard made its way to a C in 2025, up from an F in 2024. Columbia received a D both years.

When Milan Kushner applied to University of Miami during the 2023-2024 admission cycle, it had earned a B from the ADL. This past school year, it moved up to an A.

Kushner, who just completed his freshman year after graduating from Ramaz in 2024, said U of Miami was always on his radar, and the school’s lack of severe antisemitic and anti-Zionist incidents helped him feel confident about his decision to enroll there. 

He’s not alone: In each of the Ramaz graduating classes of 2021, 2022 and 2023, two students enrolled at the University of Miami. However, in the class of 2024, Kushner is one of four Ramaz alumni enrolled. As for the class of 2025, five Ramaz alumni will be attending this fall, according to Kushner. 

“The NYC Jewish population at UMiami is definitely growing,” said Kushner.

Out of the 10 schools that received an A this year on the ADL’s report card, five are in the South. One is in the Southwest, one is in the Midwest, and three are in the Northeast (Queens College, Brooklyn College and Brandeis University). 

Washington University, where Lindsay will soon attend, received a B. At a recent dinner on campus hosted by Chabad for prospective students, she said she felt very comfortable at the event, which drew a mix of Jews and non-Jews. 

The experience made an impact on her. “It replaced Columbia as my dream school,” she said.

An American charity that has raised hundreds of millions of dollars by promising to meet the emergency needs of Israeli soldiers after the war in Gaza broke out is now facing internal turmoil over allegations of financial mismanagement, cronyism, and a toxic workplace culture. 

The crisis at Friends of the Israel Defense Forces centers on the group’s chairman, Morey Levovitz, who is accused of consolidating power, awarding contracts to associates without oversight, and authorizing lavish spending that some insiders say betrays donors’ trust.

The accusations were made public last week in a news article published by Ynet, a major Israeli news outlet, which cited a report from an internal investigation commissioned by the group’s board earlier this year. 

Following Ynet’s coverage, the FIDF acknowledged the existence of the report, an 18-page document written by a team of two board members and a longtime attorney to the group, and said it is preparing a response.

“When we were made aware of the allegations, FIDF immediately began an internal investigation,” the group said in a statement it released to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “We take these matters extremely seriously. Our board and leadership team are actively evaluating and addressing the concerns raised and taking appropriate steps to respond swiftly and responsibly.”

The group has hired a law firm and a public relations company to deal with the crisis, according to an internal email sent to employees on Monday by the executive committee of the FIDF board. 

“Our Executive Committee had already engaged a law firm that specializes in not-for-profits to look into ways to reinforce our policies and procedures internally,” reads the email, which was obtained by JTA.“We also hired a public relations firm to help us navigate our communications with the situation for our donors, employees and the media.”

Founded in 1981 and headquartered in New York City, FIDF is a large Jewish charity that raises funds for the benefit of Israeli soldiers. The group has 25 chapters across the country and hundreds of employees and volunteers. 

Its fundraising events have drawn major celebrities, including retired boxer Mike Tyson, Hollywood star Ashton Kutcher and musical artist Pharrell Williams. The donor pool has featured some of the most prominent billionaire philanthropists in the country: the Adelson family, Home Depot founder Bernie Marcus, Oracle founder Larry Ellison and entertainment mogul Haim Saban, who sits on the group’s board. 

The group saw an unprecedented windfall after launching an emergency fundraising campaign in response to Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel. 

The total raised for 2023 was about $280 million, according to FIDF’s audited financial statements. That amount is almost triple the $100 million FIDF anticipated raising at the start of that year, according to an internal budget document obtained by JTA. 

Already one of the top fundraising organizations among American Jewish institutions, FIDF likely collected more money in support of Israel after Oct. 7 than any other individual charity. The only campaign known to have raised more is that of the entire Jewish federation system, which raised $850 million across dozens of organizations representing 400 Jewish communities across North America. 

The extraordinary increase in donations to FIDF reflected a widespread desire among American Jews to show support after the Israeli military lost hundreds of soldiers on Oct. 7, with hundreds more casualties in subsequent fighting during an ongoing war that has demanded an almost unprecedented mobilization of the military’s reserves.

“I’m one of the many rabbis who firmly believe in what FIDF does, and I make sure my congregants know about their work — we try to do whatever we can to support them,” Joshua Kalev, who leads a Southern California congregation and has longstanding ties to FIDF, told JTA last year.

Several of Kalev’s congregants have children serving in the Israeli military as lone soldiers, who receive support from FIDF because they don’t have family in Israel like typical troops. 

That program is one of several longstanding FIDF initiatives supporting soldiers off the battlefield. The organization’s emergency campaign has helped pay for medical equipment, toiletries and clothing, the rebuilding of a military base that was damaged by Hamas, and treatment for PTSD from combat. The group’s year-end report for 2024 says it has transferred $101 million to Israel in emergency funding while committing a total of $250 million over a multi-year period.

Alongside the surge in support, the FIDF also attracted criticism over its public messaging and its spending. 

Last year, Arnie Draiman, a consultant who vets charities for donors looking to support Israel-related causes, looked intothe FIDF on behalf of a client. 

He dug up the FIDF’s tax returns and asked the group for additional information, just as he has done for hundreds of charities in the past. Draiman didn’t like the view from under the hood. He questioned why the organization was sitting on large reserves while asking donors to give more.

“Here is an example of a nonprofit holding so much money they don’t know what to do with it,” he wrote in a note summarizing his thoughts. “They just hold on to it for the proverbial rainy day … despite the fact that the hurricane is outside. Will your money be used at all? Who knows. Will it sit somewhere for years? Probably.”

When he asked the FIDF for an explanation, he was told the money had been earmarked by donors and couldn’t be used for emergency needs. 

“It boggles my mind that the FIDF has that amount of money and then says, ‘We can’t touch it.’ But did you ask the donor if you couldn’t touch it? There’s a war going on,” Draiman told JTA at the time. 

Michael Pycher, a former FIDF supporter, became so disillusioned with the group that he eventually decided to denounce it in a widely shared post on Instagram. 

“There were and continue to be tens of thousands of Israeli soldiers begging American families for basic supplies during a critical time of need, while FIDF takes advantage of a generous and panicked Jewish population, raising hundreds of millions of dollars for itself,” he posted last April. “Disgraceful and pathetic.”

Perhaps the most persistent and vocal critic of FIDF has been Daniel Mael, a New York–based entrepreneur who runs Unit 11741, an informal initiative to provide Israeli soldiers with donated helmets and other combat gear.

Mael is part of a global grassroots effort that has donated hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of protective equipment and battlefield supplies to individual soldiers, aiming to address persistent shortages. The military officially denies that shortages exist and prohibits soldiers from receiving such donations, but in practice, commanders have often either participated in unauthorized fundraising themselves or turned a blind eye to it.

Because FIDF is an official partner of the Israeli military, it cannot — and does not — donate combat gear, focusing instead on off-battlefield support that the military says is needed. The group was not always diligent about following military directives. In 2010, the army instructed FIDF to stop bringing donors into contact with soldiers without permission. A 2016 report from Israel’s state comptroller found that FIDF ignored the order and continued the practice in violation of military directives.

Mael and other critics charge that FIDF is not transparent when it says it is providing for the soldiers’ most urgent needs while soldiers continue soliciting money online for helmets because their army-issued ones are decades old and damaged. Critics also say that as the FIDF toes the military line that there are no shortages, it also disparages alternative grassroots donation drives, making donors wary of contributing.  

“I’m not even asking FIDF to take responsibility for fixing the equipment crisis, though it’s telling that they avoid it,” Mael told JTA, summarizing his views. “I’m simply asking them to stop gaslighting soldiers and the public. Soldiers, widows, and orphans deserve an organization that supports them honestly, without spin, deception, or self-serving narratives.”

Mael has aired his complaints against FIDF through YouTube videos and a Substack blog. He sprang into action after Ynet revealed last week that the organization had completed an internal investigation uncovering allegations of mismanagement. While the report did not address concerns about FIDF’s ballooning cash reserves or its policy of against donating protective gear, Mael cited it as further evidence of the “moral failure” he has long denounced.

“How FIDF raised a fortune, hoarded it, and handed out flip-flops during Israel’s darkest hour,” reads the subhead to a recent blog post by Mael. 

Writing in a punchy, muckraking style, he built a following within the FIDF, leading insiders to provide him with a steady stream of leaked correspondence involving board members and donors. 

In internal emails, FIDF has cited the growing drumbeat of concern in commissioning an investigation earlier this year, and acknowledged that its staff is reading the coverage of the crisis by news outlets and blogs. 

The report that came out of the investigation paints a picture of an organization gripped by dysfunction and centralized control, according to Ynet. At the center of the turmoil is Levovitz, the board chairman, who is accused of sidelining senior executives, bypassing internal controls, and treating the charity as his personal domain.

According to Ynet’s coverage, Levovitz assumed effective day-to-day control of the charity, marginalizing FIDF’s CEO Steve Weil and frequently declaring to staff, “I run the show.” The report reportedly details how contracts were allegedly steered toward individuals and companies with personal or professional ties to Levovitz, including a travel contract awarded without competitive bidding to Ortra, an Israeli company that has organized FIDF donor delegations.

The report also described a pattern of lavish spending by Levovitz himself, including nearly $53,000 in personal reimbursements for high-end travel and lodging — expenses that board members later said may have violated the group’s own financial policies, Ynet reported. 

Tensions have spilled into FIDF’s regional chapters. In San Francisco, one of the most generous donor communities, the local chapter froze its contributions after its director was dismissed without explanation. The report described the move as a strategic failure that risked alienating donors and undermining regional morale, according to Ynet’s coverage. 

Also alarming to longtime supporters was the departure of the group’s legal counsel, Stephen Rubin, who resigned after being excluded from internal deliberations, Ynet reported. Rubin had been with the organization for over four decades. His absence, the report warned, left the board vulnerable to legal lapses and weakened institutional oversight. 

Employees interviewed during the investigation described a workplace marked by fear, dysfunction and unclear leadership, according to Ynet. Some told the committee they were hesitant to speak up internally for fear of retaliation. Staff turnover had accelerated, and morale was reportedly low across multiple departments.

At least some donors have called for Levovitz’s resignation or ouster, but the board has yet to convene since the leak of the report. 

For Mael, even though the report doesn’t address his main criticism and changes have yet to be made, the current scrutiny of the organization is a welcome development.

“FIDF has admitted to the world that its house is not entirely in order,” he recently wrote. “Now comes the harder task: cleaning it up.”

S. Daniel Abraham, an American billionaire who grew his fortune on his diet company Slim-Fast Foods and spent his life advocating for peace between Israel and its neighbors in the Middle East, died on June 29 at 100.

Abraham was born in New York in 1924 and went on to serve as an infantryman in the U.S. Army in the 1940s before building his fortune on the Thompson Medical Company — which his father, a dentist, bought for $5,000 in 1947.

That company would later introduce Slim-Fast Foods, a weight-loss product popular in the 1980s that served as a supplement for breakfast and lunch by combining a powder with skim milk. By 2025, Abraham had built a net worth of $2.4 billion.

“What I wanted to bring to market was a meal replacement in liquid form, composed of protein, carbohydrates, vitamins and minerals, and even a little healthy fat,” he wrote in “Everything Is Possible,” a memoir written with Joseph Telushkin, an American rabbi and bestselling author, and published in 2010.

Beyond Abraham’s entrepreneurial success, he also spent much of his life advocating for peace between Israelis and Palestinians and was a major funder of Middle East peace initiatives.

Between 1988 and 2002, Abraham made over 60 trips to the Middle East alongside Rep. Wayne Owens, a Utah Democrat, to meet with Israeli and Arab leaders, and in 1989 he founded the S. Daniel Abraham Center for Middle East Peace, a nonprofit aimed at peacebuilding between Israelis and Palestinians.

“A brilliant, humble businessman who experienced the destruction of war as a combat soldier in World War II, Mr. Abraham exhibited a tireless and selfless dedication to achieving peace, security and prosperity for all peoples of the Middle East,” Robert Wexler, the president of the S. Daniel Abraham Center for Middle East Peace, wrote in a statement after Abraham’s death.

“When peace comes to the Middle East — and it will — we will have Dan Abraham to thank. Dan, though, never sought any thanks or recognition. Mr. Abraham was righteous and just — a tzadik,” Wexler wrote, using the Hebrew term for a righteous person.

Abraham also donated extensively to Israeli and American universities, endowing chairs at Harvard University Medical School and Princeton University. He also funded two programs bearing his name at Yeshiva University as well as a business school at Bar-Ilan University in Israel.

“Mr. Abraham’s life was guided by purpose, generosity and a deep love for the Jewish people and the State of Israel, and his influence will be felt by current and future generations,” Yeshiva University’s president, Ari Berman, and its board chair, Ira Mitzner, wrote in an obituary.

Abraham also donated millions to American and Israeli political movements, giving $3 million to a super PAC supporting Hillary Clinton’s presidential bid in 2016. He was a major donor to the movement to unseat Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu ahead of the 2015 elections in Israel.

Abraham’s death, in a hospital in Manhattan, was confirmed by a spokesman for his family, Rabbi Abe Unger, according to the New York Times.

“The obituaries will call him ‘billionaire founder of SlimFast.’ But we, first congregants of the Palm Beach Synagogue (1994) knew him as a funny, approachable man,” wrote Elaine Rosenberg Miller, a member of Abraham’s congregation in Florida, in the Times of Israel.

Abraham lived for eight years with his family in Netanya, Israel, and has 20 grandchildren and great- grandchildren living in Israel, according to a biography for Abraham in the Times of Israel.

His marriage in 1963 to Estanne Weiner ended in divorce in 1993, and he married Ewa Sebzda in 1996. She survives him, along with four daughters from his first marriage, two children from his second marriage, 27 grandchildren and 34 great-grandchildren, according to the New York Times.

TRONDHEIM, Norway — If ever there was a synagogue that’s earned the right to throw itself a birthday shindig, it’s this elegant and intriguing house of worship in central Norway only 220 miles south of the Arctic Circle.

Over the past century, the Trondheim Synagogue has weathered isolation from the rest of the Jewish world; the Holocaust, which wiped out half its community; challenges related to Shabbat observance because of its far northern latitude, and persistent antisemitism that has only grown worse since the war in Gaza began in 2023.

This fall, the synagogue will be observing its 100-year anniversary with a three-day celebration, culminating with an Oct. 26 event which members of Norway’s royal family, the country’s prime minister, the mayor of Trondheim and other dignitaries are scheduled to attend.

“There will be speeches, songs and, of course, we will tell the history of the community,” says John Arne Moen, president of the Trondheim Jewish Community. “We are on the outskirts of the Jewish world, living close to the polar circle. You will probably not find a community like ours any other place in the world.”

With a population of about 200,000, Trondheim is Norway’s third-largest city, behind Oslo and Bergen. Located on the shores of a fjord that’s an inlet in the Norwegian Sea, the city was founded in the year 997 and was Norway’s capital during the Viking Age.

The city’s most famous site is the Nidaros Cathedral, completed in 1300 at the burial place of King Olav II, who is credited with bringing Christianity to Norway.

The unlikely story of Jewish life in Trondheim began in the late 19th century, when Jewish immigrants began arriving from Poland and Lithuania, usually because they couldn’t afford to go to America. Many worked as traveling merchants.

By 1900, there were more than 100 Jews living in Trondheim and the city’s first synagogue was established. During the next 20 years, the community grew to more than 300 members, prompting the need for a larger synagogue.

In 1923 an old railway station at Arkitekt Christies Gate 1 was purchased with the financial support of approximately 200 Jews from Oslo and converted into a synagogue. It was inaugurated in 1925 and remains — along with the synagogue in Oslo — one of only two synagogues in the country.

The building, designed in the Neoclassical style, is fronted by a light-blue façade with arched windows and white molding. Inside, the two-story sanctuary also features a blue motif.  Originally, women were seated in the balcony during services. Now, the balcony is no longer used; men and women sit together on the main floor.

Germany occupied Norway from 1940 to 1945. The Nazis confiscated the synagogue and used it as a barracks, replacing the Stars of David in the windows with swastikas.

It’s believed that 165 local Jews — about half of Trondheim’s Jewish population at the time — died in the Holocaust, fueled by robust collaboration by local authorities. Most of the victims were deported by train to the Auschwitz concentration camp in Poland, where only a few survived.

Early efforts to memorialize the murdered Jews of Trondheim were undertaken by the remnants of the community that survived. But in the mid-1990s, the city embarked on its own memorial enterprise, choosing Cissi Klein — who was 13 when she was seized from her school, deported to Auschwitz and killed upon arrival — to become a symbol of Trondheim’s Nazi victims.

A statue of Cissi stands in a quiet park a short walk from the Trondheim Synagogue. Built in 1997 as part of the city’s millennium commemorations, the memorial is located outside the apartment building where Cissi lived with her parents and brother. A street alongside the park has been named in her honor.

Today, Moen estimates there are 200 Jews living in Trondheim; about three-quarters are members of the synagogue. Shabbat services are typically held every other Friday.

The chief rabbi of Norway, Michael Melchior, lives in Israel but periodically travels to Oslo and Trondheim to conduct services. (Melchior’s father was the longtime chief rabbi of Denmark.) When Melchior isn’t in town, services are usually led by Israeli-born Asher Serussi, a religious leader in the community who has lived in Trondheim for 30 years.

Serussi describes the Trondheim Synagogue as “Orthodox but very flexible and modern.”

“Most of the people here are not observant Jews,” he said. “Our members are interested in the Jewish culture and traditions. But they don’t keep kosher and they don’t keep Shabbat. They enjoy very much when we have celebrations for holidays. Then it’s a full house here.”

For the more religious who follow halacha, or traditional Jewish law, the question about how to handle the starting and ending times of Shabbat has been a topic of debate ever since the congregation was founded in 1905. According to halacha, Shabbat begins a few minutes before sunset and lasts for 25 hours.

But Trondheim is located so far north that the amount of daylight can vary between 20 hours in the summer and just four hours in the winter. So what’s an Orthodox congregation to do in a country known as “the land of the midnight sun”?

Other communities in far northern latitudes handle the issue in a variety of ways. Some set the Shabbat clock based on Jerusalem time, while others divide the day equally into two 12-hour segments. Some start Shabbat at the traditional moment, even if that means lighting candles around midnight.

Moen says the congregation developed its own approach in its early years of existence that seemed to be palatable to its members and blessed by most of the Orthodox rabbis who have examined the question. For the Trondheim Synagogue, Shabbat begins at 5:30 p.m. on Fridays and ends at 6:30 p.m. on Saturdays, regardless of the time of year and whether or not there’s sunlight or polar darkness.

“It’s been our rule for 120 years,” says Moen. “We have grown up with it. We are the only Orthodox synagogue in the world doing it this way.”

Relations between Norway and Israel are strained — last year Norway formally recognized Palestine as a sovereign state. As for antisemitism, Serussi says that while it’s long been an accepted part of Norwegian society, things have gotten worse since the war in Gaza started.

According to a recent report from Israel’s Diaspora Affairs Ministry, there has been a sharp rise in antisemitic incidents in Norway since October 2023, with 69% of the Jewish community personally experiencing hostility related to their Jewish identity.

In 2024 the Trondheim Jewish cemetery was vandalized and someone threw a Molotov cocktail at the synagogue. The attack caused no damage, and the perpetrator was never found.

“We are telling our congregation not to show any Jewish symbols when they are walking the streets,” said Serussi. “So we’re taking some precautions. We feel like it’s not like normal days.”

Designed in part to combat antisemitism, there is a small museum in the same building as the synagogue. The Jewish Museum Trondheim opened in 1997 and attracts 7,000 visitors a year, many of them local schoolchildren. They come on field trips to learn about the Holocaust and the history of Jewish life in Trondheim.

A particularly moving exhibit devoted to the Holocaust tells the stories of several of the city’s victims and includes a rack with 165 empty coat hangers, each representing one of the Jews who perished during the war.

The basement of the museum has a small mikvah, or ritual bath, that hasn’t been used since before the German occupation. At the urging of two Orthodox families now living in Trondheim, the mikvah is in the process of being restored and Serussi says the goal is to have it functioning in the next year or two.

Trondheim isn’t the easiest place for travelers to reach. Most flights into the city’s small airport come from Oslo and other domestic cities. But Trondheim does attract a fair number of visitors on cruise ships. Holland America and Norwegian-based Hurtigruten are two of the larger cruise lines that offer itineraries that include port stops in Trondheim.

The Trondheim Synagogue used to proudly proclaim itself as “the northernmost synagogue in the world.” Newer and more northerly houses of worship in Fairbanks, Alaska and Arkhangelsk, Russia have since supplanted Trondheim from that distinction.

Geographic titles aside, Moen says that despite its many challenges, the Trondheim Jewish Community is now on solid footing and looking forward to continuing to meet the spiritual and cultural needs of residents and tourists as it heads into its second millennium.

“We have survived the Shoah and now we are growing,” said Moen. “We have a lot of young people and we haven’t seen this much activity in our community since before the war. We have a beautiful shul. If you want a place to pray, the synagogue is open to any Jew that wants to come.”

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu presented President Donald Trump with a letter he had sent to the Nobel committee, nominating him for the prestigious prize as the two met at the White House Monday.

Trump has made no secret of his ambition to secure the prestigious prize and is pressing Netanyahu to end the war in Gaza.

The letter Netanyahu sent did not mention Gaza, instead citing Trump’s “pivotal role” in negotiating diplomacy between Israel and several other Arab countries including the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, Morocco and Sudan in 2020, during Trump’s first term. Trump has vowed to expand the accords, with Saudi Arabia and Syria likely additions seen as dependent on an end to the war in Gaza.

“President Trump has demonstrated steadfast and exceptional dedication to promoting peace, security and stability around the world,” read the letter from Netanyahu, which was dated July 1 and sent to the Norwegian Nobel Committee.

Presenting Trump with the letter, Netanyahu said, “It’s well deserved, and you should get it.”

“This I didn’t know. Wow,” Trump replied, reading the text. “Coming from you in particular, this is very meaningful.”

During the meeting Monday, Netanyahu and Trump met to discuss their self-proclaimed victory in the military campaign against Iranian nuclear sites, and Netanyahu restated his long-held position that a ceasefire in Gaza should not give way to Palestinian statehood.

In June, Pakistan also nominated Trump for the Nobel prize for his diplomacy in stopping the fighting between India and Pakistan earlier this year.

Trump has long vied for the Nobel Peace Prize, and wrote on Truth Social last month, shortly before announcing a ceasefire in the Israel-Iran war, that he believed he would not get the prize “no matter what I do.” That ceasefire came shortly after Trump took the unprecedented step of bombing Iran’s nuclear facilities.

“No, I won’t get a Nobel Peace Prize no matter what I do, including Russia/Ukraine, and Israel/Iran, whatever those outcomes may be, but the people know, and that’s all that matters to me!,” Trump wrote.

Rabbis and other clergy members in the United States may endorse candidates from the pulpit without jeopardizing their house of worship’s tax-exempt status, the Internal Revenue Service has decreed.

The policy change reverses a ban on endorsing or opposing candidates by religious organizations known as the Johnson Amendment, enacted in the 1950s. The IRS made the change in the course of settling a lawsuit brought by two churches and a Christian broadcasting network in Texas that sought to undo the ban for all nonprofit entities.

The IRS said endorsements by houses of worship to their congregations are akin to “a family discussion concerning candidates,” according to the New York Times, which was the first to report the policy change.

“Thus, communications from a house of worship to its congregation in connection with religious services through its usual channels of communication on matters of faith do not run afoul of the Johnson Amendment as properly interpreted,” the agency said in a legal filing.

President Donald Trump vowed during his first term to do away with the Johnson Amendment, calling it “very, very unfair,” and issued an executive order prohibiting the IRS from prosecuting violations. But a full repeal would have required an act of Congress, and the ban survived a 2017 legislative effort to repeal it.

Many Jewish leaders have sought to comply with the prohibition despite the lack of enforcement. In the recent New York City mayoral primary, for example, some rabbis and synagogues emphasized in their communication with congregants that they could not endorse a candidate, even as they urged voting. Now, they will be allowed to make an endorsement in the general election — a shift that could liberate them to articulate their values in new ways, but also put pressure on them to wade into electoral politics.

President Trump and Florida Gov. Rick DeSantis had a giddy name for the temporary ICE facility they built quickly on an airstrip in the Florida Everglades: “Alligator Alcatraz.”

“We’re going to teach them how to run away from an alligator if they escape prison,” Trump boasted July 1 as he toured the detention facility for undocumented migrants, where a forbidding swamp surrounds tents featuring rows of bunk beds behind chain fences.

Some critics put forth another name for the facility: Alligator Auschwitz. 

The disparaging, historically loaded nickname for the facility surged on Bluesky, X and other social media platforms, and was featured in the headlines of articles denouncing the facility. Syndicated cartoonist Pat Byrnes drew an image of the tents under the infamous “Arbeit Macht Frei” gate that welcomed Jewish inmates to Auschwitz. 

“When I saw the picture of the metal bunks in tiers, my thought was ‘Alligator Auschwitz,’ not Alcatraz,” wote an L.A. Times reader. 

Like many previous comparisons, such language sparked an immediate debate over when, if ever, it is appropriate to use Holocaust comparisons. 

Some Jewish watchdogs argue that using even a term like “concentration camp,” which long preceded the Nazi camps where millions of Jews were killed, can dilute the meaning of the genocide and dishonor the memory of its victims if used outside the context of the Holocaust. 

Jewish groups have called out such language by progressive politicians referring to previous Trump policies, by GOP lawmakers denouncing their opponents, and even by Pope Francis when he decried European migrant and refugee holding centers. 

“Don’t call it Alligator Auschwitz. Don’t trivialize the Holocaust,” Stuart Rojstaczer, a novelist and former professor of geology at Duke University, wrote in a Threads post critical of the facility. “I lost too many family members for me not to feel a sting whenever I hear the Holocaust being trivialized.”

“Every ass-clown who compares Alligator Alcatraz to Auschwitz clearly has no mental comprehension of how horrible the Holocaust was,” read a post on X by the Monterey County Republican Party in California. “#NeverForget the true horrors, and pray that the reality of Jewish genocide never happens again.

And yet others have suggested that the many aspects of Trump’s draconian immigration policies invite such comparisons — not to the Holocaust, per se, but to harsh measures that dehumanize outsiders, operate outside of a country’s established legal system, and seem to at least pave the road to, well, another Auschwitz.

In a sermon he delivered on July 5, Rabbi Ammos Chorny of Beth Tikvah congregation in Naples, Florida warned against the “Auschwitz” comparison, but nevertheless invoked the Holocaust in decrying the ICE facility. 

“Let me be clear. Although this is not Auschwitz, nor Bergen-Belsen, we must not disrespect history by making false equivalencies,” he said in his sermon, which was shared on Facebook by the Rabbinical Assembly, “but we would be dangerously blind not to hear the echoes of history in our midst. We know how it begins, always: with camps for those labeled ‘outsiders,’ ‘illegals,’ ‘undesirables.’ We know how even democratic societies can, little by little, begin to unravel the threads of human dignity, rendering people invisible.”

 “Let us name it plainly,” he said. “A camp has opened for the detention of undocumented immigrants. It stands here, in the shadow of our own community, amid the sawgrass and swamplands of the Everglades. It is not a prison, but it is not freedom. It is a place where human beings: men, women, and children; will be confined, silenced, and uprooted from any semblance of stability or dignity.”

Andrea Pitzer, author of “One Long Night: A Global History of Concentration Camps,” wrote that Alligator Alcatraz deserves to be called a “concentration camp” based on an objective definition of the term.

“This facility’s purpose fits the classic model: mass civilian detention without real trials targeting vulnerable groups for political gain based on ethnicity, race, religion or political affiliation rather than for crimes committed,” she wrote in an article for MSNBC.

Pitzer notes that long before Adolf Hitler came to power in Germany, other nations, including Spain and Great Britain, “set up concentration camps in colonial regions.” She also applied the term to the internment camps where thousands of Japanese Americans were held during World War II.

Rojstaczer, the novelist, acknowledged such history in his comment about “Alligator Auschwitz.” 

“Call it Alligator Arkhangelsk, a region of gulags where Stalin shipped many Polish Jews and Poles, including my mother,” he wrote. “What Trump is doing is far more akin to what Stalin was doing than what Hitler was doing.”

The tendency to invoke the Nazis in heated political debates is so common that it has a name: “Godwin’s Law,” which postulates that as an online discussion grows longer, a Hitler or Nazi comparison becomes inevitable.  

Critics of “Alligator Alcatraz” say they are basing the Holocaust comparison on policies, not politics. 

While Trump and DeSantis have promised that the facility, which currently can accommodate 3,000 detainees, will house ”the worst of the worst” awaiting deportation — presumably undocumented aliens with criminal records or gang affiliations — the Miami Herald published a document by the state showing that the facility is prepared to take in children.

And ICE itself, which in the first five months of the Trump administration had been targeting migrants with pending or criminal convictions, has since the beginning of May arrested an increasing number of migrants with no criminal convictions, according to an ABC News analysis of ICE data. The shift followed a directive by White House Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller, who is Jewish, to greatly increase the number of detentions. 

Pitzer, the historian of concentration camps, referred to rushed procedures that immigration groups say deny migrants due process. But she also wrote of “Alligator Alcatraz” as a capstone to an array of policies — plans to revoke naturalized citizenship, undoing birthright citizenship and targeting immigrants for their political activism — that “wants to define who can be an American in ways that appear profoundly racist.” She offered another Nazi-era analogy: the Nuremberg Laws, the legal framework for the systematic persecution of Jews in Germany.

Nazi-era comparisons are also being used to refer to the expansion of ICE and its aggressive tactics, which have included masked agents, large shows of force and telegenic raids. The domestic policy bill signed by Trump on Friday funds a doubling of the current immigrant detention capacity, from about 56,000 beds to potentially more than 100,000. The bill would more than triple ICE’s annual budget, with funding to hire 10,000 new agents over the remainder of Trump’s term.

Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz referred to ICE in May as “Trump’s modern-day Gestapo,” leading to a rebuke from the Department of Homeland Security. In June, the Foundation to Combat Antisemitism issued a report showing that comparisons on social media between federal law enforcement and the Gestapo had risen to “records highs”; the foundation said that comparing ICE or any other agency to Hitler’s secret police “is more than just rhetorical excess. It trivializes the Holocaust, distorts history, and erodes public understanding of both the past and present.”

Trump officials and supporters welcomed Alligator Alcatraz in ways that felt distinctly cruel to many critics of who used the “Auschwitz” label. The Florida GOP and supporters of the facility are selling “Alligator Alcatraz” merchandise. MAGA influencers gleefully posted photos of the caged-in bunks. Pro-Trump activist Laura Loomer, also Jewish, wrote on X that “alligators are guaranteed at least 65 million meals if we get started now” — citing a number equal to the entire Hispanic population of the United States. 

Joan Walsh, in an article in The Nation headlined “The Abominable Sadism of ‘Alligator Auschwitz,’” called such language and actions “performative fascist cruelty.”

In her remarks during last week’s tour of the facility, Department of Homeland Security chief Kristi Noem appeared to acknowledge that the forbidding conditions were meant to frighten migrants into self-deporting. “If you don’t,” she said, “you may end up here.” She also urged other states to contact her if they wanted to set up similarly intimidating facilities. 

Defenders of the administration’s policies argue that they are working. The number of people crossing the southern border illegally in June — just over 6,000 — was the lowest monthly level seen in decades.  

“Another all-time record low has been set, smashing every record on the books,” Miller wrote on X, celebrating the numbers. 

In his sermon, however, Rabbi Chorny described Alligator Alcatraz as not just a political story, but a moral story — and that Holocaust comparisons notwithstanding, it should be debated on its own terms.

“Yes, every nation has the right and the responsibility to maintain secure borders. But how we uphold those borders matters,” said Chorny, a native of Colombia and a former U.S. Army chaplain. “Law does not require cruelty. Security does not require inhumanity. There are lines that must never be crossed, lines that once crossed, are not easily uncrossed.”

Jewish camps and camping leaders are joining a chorus of condolences after a flash flood in Kerr County, Texas, killed dozens of children and counselors at a summer camp there.

“In the Jewish community, we know the power of camp. We know it as a sacred space where children find their voice, counselors discover their purpose, and lifelong friendships are formed under starry skies. We know it as a refuge where values are lived, joy is abundant, and community is built in song, sweat, and spirit,” the interim CEO of the Foundation for Jewish Camp, Jamie Simon, said in a statement on Monday.

“That’s why our hearts are broken alongside the camps in Texas who are grieving unimaginable loss after this week’s devastating flood,” Simon continued.

Amid a death toll nearing 100 across Texas, the tragedy at Camp Mystic stands out. The Christian camp, beloved locally, lost 27 children and counselors when the nearby Guadalupe River spilled over its banks early Friday morning. Three days later, 10 girls and a counselor were still missing. A photograph circulating on social media showed a bunk of smiling grade-school girls with their counselors — all of whom had been killed.

Two camp directors, Jane Ragsdale of Heart O’ the Hills and Dick Eastland of Camp Mystic, have also been confirmed to have died while trying to rescue the children in their charge.

The tragedy has resonated across the robust Jewish camping sector. In the United States, over 190,000 Jewish children attend Jewish camps annually. Jewish camps tend to run longer and draw children for more consecutive years than camps in other communities.

“I can’t stop thinking about this tragedy in Texas. I am sitting here desperately missing my girls, feeling the emptiness without them, but I have the gift of knowing that they are safe at camp,” Lizzy Savetsky, an Orthodox Jewish mother and social media influencer, posted on Instagram. “And I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that not every mom gets that gift this summer.”

Jewish camps were quick to express their solidarity with those in Texas — while also reassuring anxious families that their own children were protected.

“Our hearts are broken for everyone impacted by the devastating floods in the Texas Hill Country. We are, especially, sending out thoughts and prayers to the entire camp community affected by the flooding here in Texas,” Camp Young Judea-Texas wrote on Facebook, in one representative post. “To the brave camp directors and staff who gave their lives protecting children, we honor you. Their heroism reflects the very best of our camp community.”

The Facebook post added, as more rainy weather was predicted, “We are grateful that CYJ remains safe and unaffected by the flooding, and will continue to monitor weather conditions closely as we prepare for the remainder of our summer sessions.”

While the Mystic tragedy affected Christian campers, at least one Jewish family lost everything in the Texas floods. Crissy Eliashar was home in Jonestown, Texas, about 30 minutes from Austin, with her three children and a friend who was sleeping over when the flood waters began surging into their home. They fled after a neighbor alerted them to the danger.

Now, other families at the Eliashars’ Jewish day school, Austin Jewish Academy, have been sharing an online fundraiser meant to help the family rebuild.

“Last night we narrowly escaped the floods with our lives. My brave babies held on to each other and their beloved dogs while we waded out of our sliding house and into a raging river formed under and behind us,” Eliashar wrote on Facebook. “We need everything.”

Shalom Austin Jewish Family Services, a social services agency that like Austin Jewish Academy is housed on the Shalom Austin campus, announced it would offer free support sessions, emergency assistance and community processing spaces with licensed clinicians in the wake of the flooding.

“As Shabbat ends, our hearts are with all those impacted by the devastating floods in Central Texas, including the families of Kerr County and Camp Mystic,” the organization said in a statement on Saturday. “This tragedy has touched so many lives, with members of our own Shalom Austin community among those affected. We offer our deepest thoughts and prayers for healing, comfort and strength to the families and communities facing loss and rebuilding.”

The crisis resonated far beyond Texas, as Jewish camps across the country sent condolences.

“Our hearts break for our extended camp family in Texas and for all those impacted by the floods. May the memories of those lost be for a blessing,” Ramah Day Camp in Nyack, New York, wrote on Facebook.

“As part of the camp community, we understand the profound impact of summer camp, not just as a place of play, but as a nurturing environment that fosters growth, belonging, and joyful memories,” JCamps Baltimore, the Jewish Community Center of Greater Baltimore’s day camp organization, said in a statement. “We offer our deepest prayers for healing.”

Simon said in an interview that the crisis had left her “heartbroken” — and reflecting on the ties that cut across communities when it comes to summer camp.

“While our traditions and affiliations and identities may differ, we’re united by the belief that camp shapes lives in times of joy and in times of sorrow,” she said. “We obviously are heartbroken that the time of sorrow is now, and are sending our prayers and healing thoughts, and we want them to know they’re not alone, that across the country, Jewish camps and Jewish camp leaders are holding them in our thoughts and prayers.”

An Instagram post by a veteran of Jewish summer camp that went viral over the weekend echoed that point.

“When you choose to send your child to sleepaway camp, you join a small, quiet, powerful club. It doesn’t matter the religion of the camp — Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Catholic — or the focus of the camp — sports, theater, nature, health,” wrote Sarah Cytryn, who travels from her home in Israel each year to send her children to Camp Ramah in Wisconsin, where her family has longstanding ties. “What unites us is a shared faith: in the power of camp, in the people who dedicate their summers to shaping young lives, and in our belief that this experience will help our kids grow, thrive, and discover who they are.”

To the families of Camp Mystic, Cytryn wrote, “You are not alone. We are all standing with you.”

Barnard College settled a lawsuit Monday filed by Jewish and Israeli students alleging that the school had failed to address antisemitism on its campus.

The settlement of the lawsuit, which was filed by StandWithUs Center for Legal Justice, Students Against Antisemitism, Inc. and Barnard Jewish and Israeli student plaintiffs, includes a laundry list of measures the college must take to address antisemitism.

“Barnard’s commitment to take meaningful actions to combat antisemitism demonstrates its leadership in the fight against antisemitism and upholding the rights of Jewish and Israeli students,” said Marc Kasowitz, the lawyer for the plaintiffs in the lawsuit in a statement. “These commitments are not only the right thing to do, but are essential to creating a welcome and inclusive campus for all members of the Barnard community.

“I encourage other colleges and universities to do the right thing and follow Barnard’s lead,” he wrote.

In the settlement announced Monday, Barnard agreed to combat antisemitism on its campus by establishing a Title VI coordinator to review and respond to allegations and also produce an annual report.

The Title VI coordinator will also comply with guidance from the Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights to “consider” the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s (IHRA) definition of antisemitism to address instances of discrimination. The IHRA’s definition has been criticized for including some anti-Israel speech as examples of antisemitism.

The settlement also outlined commitments to educating the Barnard community about antisemitism, which will include a requirement for all students, faculty, and staff to complete training on the school’s policy against discrimination and harassment.

Additionally, Barnard’s president will deliver an annual message conveying the school’s “zero tolerance’ policy for discriminating against Jewish and Israeli students.

“Antisemitism, discrimination, and harassment in any form are antithetical to the values Barnard College champions. Today’s settlement reflects our ongoing commitment to maintaining a campus that is safe, welcoming, and inclusive for all members of our community,” said Barnard College President Laura Ann Rosenbury in a statement.

“These new measures, including enhanced training and a dedicated Title VI coordinator, build on Barnard’s existing policies and make our standards and expectations for treating one another, both on and off campus, crystal clear. We look forward to continued partnership and collaboration in support of all members of the Barnard community.”

The settlement also placed restrictions on protests at Barnard, including that the school “maintain policies limiting the time, place, and manner of demonstrations and prohibiting the use of face masks and other personal disguises.”

As part of the settlement, the school also agreed not to “recognize, meet, or negotiate” with Columbia University Apartheid Divest, a pro-Palestinian group on campus, or any of its successors or representatives. Additionally, beginning in the 2025 fall semester, courses at the Jewish Theological Seminary will be available to all Barnard students at no cost.

The settlement comes as Columbia University, with which Barnard is affiliated, faces increased scrutiny and funding cuts from the Trump administration over its alleged failure to quell antisemitism on campus in the wake of Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023 attacks on Israel.

Last month, Columbia released a study that found that nearly two thirds of Jewish students at the school reported not feeling accepted for their religious identity during the 2023-2024 school year.

In May, the Trump administration also announced the conclusion of a civil rights investigation that found the school had acted with “deliberate indifference towards student-on-student harassment of Jewish students.”

In March, Columbia University also banned face masks at protests and acquiesced to a number of Trump administration demands in an effort to win back its federal funding.

When Michael Weichselbaum was a student at Yeshiva Dov Revel, a Modern Orthodox school in Forest Hills, Queens, he was known as something of a mischievous kid who was once kicked out of a science class taught by his mother.

But now, Weichselbaum, 64, is a rabbi, and since 1999, he’s been the principal of Bnos Malka Academy, an all-girls yeshiva. In 2006, the school moved into 71-02 113th Street — the very same building that once housed Dov Revel.  

Weichselbaum, who was known as “Mikey” by his former classmates, acknowledges that among those who knew him in elementary school, his career — in which he spends his time behind a principal’s desk, instead of in front of it — seems an unlikely one. Shortly after Bnos Malka moved into the building, Weichselbaum recalls how a former classmate came to visit him there, saying, “I heard that you became principal of the building and I had to come and see it for myself!” 

“Walking into the building for the first time was surreal,” Weichselbaum said. “So many memories came rushing back. It was hard to believe how little had changed over the years.” 

Recently, many of Weichselbaum’s former classmates had the same opportunity to relive their elementary and middle school memories. That’s because on Sunday, June 15, Yeshiva Dov Revel, which permanently closed its doors many years ago, held a reunion at the school building for its graduating class of 1975. 

The date of the gathering was an auspicious one: It was exactly 50 years, to the day, since these former eighth-graders got their diplomas. 

“It’s hard to believe it’s been 50 years,” Weichselbaum told the New York Jewish Week. “It certainly made me reflect on what I thought I’d be doing with my life, and what I’ve actually done and been able to accomplish.”

Out of the class’s 81 graduates, 37 of them — many of whom hadn’t seen each other in half a century — gathered inside the school’s multipurpose room, which was used for prayer services back in the Dov Revel days. The former pupils warmly greeted each other, and relived memories over a light lunch of kosher wraps.   

Alumni came from as close as Queens and Manhattan to as far away as Connecticut, Maryland and Israel. Ten other graduates joined the festivities via Zoom, although some of those in Israel had difficulty connecting from their shelters or safe rooms, as Israel’s war with Iran had begun less than two days prior. 

Among the attendees were Hillel Kuttler, former Washington bureau chief for the Jerusalem Post, who now runs his own Israel-based communications company, and Queens-based singer/songwriter Eytan Mirsky, who was sound effects editor for the Academy Award-winning films “Chicago” and “A Beautiful Mind.” 

The impetus of the reunion dates to May 2009, when Dov Revel alum Steve Khosrova started a Facebook group for the yeshiva’s class of ‘75. 

“None of this would’ve happened if Steve didn’t start the Facebook group,” said Robby Bindiger, one of the reunion’s organizers, along with Kuttler, Sharon Katz Sherman and Steve Khosrova.

“It says a lot about this gift of education we received here, from our parents, our families  and through this institution [which] we are celebrating today — and it’s important enough to be here even on Father’s Day,” Bindiger said in a speech to the group. “To be here with each other, commemorating this important milestone in our lives and honoring our parents, our teachers and our school.” 

Yeshiva Dov Revel was named for Rabbi Bernard (Dov) Revel, a prominent rabbi and founder of Yeshiva College, later known as Yeshiva University. In the 1970s, the school’s student body numbered around 700, and consisted of pupils of varied levels of observance and backgrounds, including Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews. 

Attendee Linda Izhakoff Alweiss, who wore a white dress, said she was very social in school. Fellow alum Odeleya Jacobs called Alweiss “most popular.”

Alweiss told the New York Jewish Week that she dreamed of becoming a princess as a young girl. She ultimately worked at an art gallery and in PR and spoke about how YDR provided her with social skills. “That’s what a school is supposed to be;  give you a basis for friendship forever.”

Jacobs came to YDR from Israel in third grade. At the time, she didn’t speak English; at the reunion, Jacobs shared how grateful she is for all that she learned at the school. “In third grade I learned how to pray, how to daven,” she said. “It was in the yeshiva that I was able to form a spiritual connection to Hashem.”

Jacobs was not a good math student, she said, but she still remembers  how she unexpectedly got a math commendation right before graduation.  Jacobs ran to her math teacher with tears in her eyes because she didn’t think she deserved it.

“She said, ‘So you’re not going to be a mathematician,’” Jacobs recalled. “‘Imagine what a boring world this would be if everyone was a mathematician. You showed effort. Whatever the effort, that’s what you’re judged on.’“

That math teacher “gave me, in my life, such confidence in myself,” Jacobs said, adding that it was meaningful “coming back to a place that shaped up who we are today.”

During the reunion, the former classmates bonded over shared memories — reminiscing over the cafeteria’s thick-skinned chocolate pudding and how they used to use a rexograph (ditto) machine — the commonality of their Jewish heritage and love of Israel connected them, too, especially as some of the former classmates’ children were now serving in combat units in Israel. 

Kuttler recited the Shehecheyanu, a prayer that is commonly recited when people reach a certain milestone or auspicious occasion, and Weichselbaum led the group in Tehillim, prayers of thanksgiving.

As the afternoon wound down, attendees said their goodbyes and the crowd slowly dissipated. Co-organizer Sherman marveled at “how easy it was to pick up friendships after 50 years,” she said. “Maybe it was the years spent together and our innocence at the time.”

“No matter how far apart we grew — whether religiously, geographically, politically or professionally — nothing can compare to the bonds you form in your formative years,” Weichselbaum said. “The years just seemed to melt away.”