Behind an inconspicuous wooden door, the Jewish Theological Seminary in downtown Budapest harbors one of the largest and most valuable Jewish book collections in Europe, according to an article in the Sept. 9 issue of The New York Times. But about 20,000 books and many valuable manuscripts have been missing since German troops marched into the city and seized books.

Now more than 80 years later, the books are slowly returning to the 150-year-old seminary, sometimes individually, sometimes in batches. Booksellers, librarians and museums in Europe and from afar are reviewing provenance and returning books. Soon, about 45,000 old and rare books will move into an archival space equipped with the latest technology, a gift from a private foundation.                     Getty Images

Caught On Shabbat at Yankee Stadium: A Personal Story

Do you remember the illicit embrace caught on camera at last summer’s Coldplay concert in Boston? Andy Byron, the former CEO of the tech company Astronomer, and Kristin Cabot, the company’s chief human resources officer, were embracing on the concert’s kiss cam; both were married to other people at the time. The incident gave me a shudder and sent me back 24 years to when I, too, was caught on live national television — not cheating on a wife, but violating Shabbat.

I was 30 years old, and I had not yet confessed to my parents that I was no longer shomer Shabbat. And on this Shabbat, as I drove to Yankee Stadium with a woman I’d recently begun to date, I had a feeling of unease. There seemed to be a chance that I might end up on national television. Fox cameras were stationed all about for the third game of a playoff between the Yankees and Mariners, and our seats were in the first row behind the left field wall — perfect for catching a home run.

The score was still 2-0 Yankees when their young second baseman, Alfonso Soriano, led off the bottom of the third. He swung at the fourth pitch. “Soriano hits one to deep left field,” called Joe Buck, the announcer.

The ball was soaring toward me. I stood. I then stepped forward and to my right, and I could see Stan Javier, Seattle’s veteran left fielder, running to where I was. He leapt and raised his left arm. I raised my right. My glove was near the top of the wall, but Javier’s arm rose high above it, his glove some two feet above mine. “A leap and a catch,” called Buck. “Stan Javier took a home run away.”

He had taken it away from me. Then I realized that it was Shabbat, and that millions would now know that I was at the stadium in violation of it.

The proof of this Shabbat that I did not go to synagogue was growing with every slow-motion replay of my reach for the ball. Fox had just shown it a third time, and then a fourth in super slow motion.

“How many people were thinking, OK I’m going home with a souvenir,” Buck mused — “especially that guy?” To make clear whom he meant, Buck circled my face.

My mind went to my parents. They did not watch TV on Shabbat. But I feared that someone who did might mention me to them. The next day, the New York Times ran a large photograph of me and Javier. But my face was hidden, and best I knew, no one had told my parents what I’d done.

My real worry was not that my parents would learn I’d violated Shabbat, but rather than they would think I did not want to keep it. In truth, I loved Shabbat — that weekly respite from daily life and its bombardments. I knew I’d return to it. And I did.

A few months ago, I was speaking with my mother. She was dying, and we were filling in missing pieces, things not said before. My mind returned to Yankee Stadium, and I confessed my sin. My mother listened and smiled. “I’m sorry you had to keep that inside,” she said.

So was I.

[Excerpted from an essay by Joshua Prager in The Forward]

About 12 years ago, Helena Czernek and Aleksander Prugar began researching mezuzah traces — imprints left in the wood of Jewish homes before WWII. In pre-war Poland, mezuzahs were placed in a groove in the wood and covered with a metal plate.

Czernek and Prugar capture the indentations with silicone, which they then use to create plaster molds. At their

Mi Polin Judaica studio, they make bronze cast replicas of the original mezuzahs. On trips throughout Poland, Ukraine, Lithuania, Belarus and Romania, they have collected more than 165 traces.

“Every single mezuzah trace can be recognized as a fingerprint of those who made this mezuzah 100 or 130 years ago,” Prugar said. “Every single mezuzah trace is like a small particle of Polish Jewish DNA.”

Czernek described mezuzah hunting as “addicting.” Anywhere she goes, if she sees buildings from the pre-War era, she stops and looks for traces. “Some of these buildings are in bad shape but still carry stories of the pre-War era with them,” she said.

In 2024, they opened a museum in Warsaw to share with the public what they’ve discovered. Although most of their visitors are Jewish, a significant number of non-Jews tour the center to learn about mezuzahs.

[Excerpted from The Forward article by Olivia Haynie]

At the 2025 JCC Maccabi Games that took place last month at the University of Pittsburgh, 2,000 Jewish teens from around the world competed in events that included ice hockey, swimming, basketball, soccer and dance. According to the event’s organizers, the games are intended as a welcome reprieve from rising antisemitism.

Founded in 1982 through the JCC Association of North America, the JCC Maccabi Games has become the largest Jewish youth sporting event in the world. Each year, the organization hosts two weeklong summer competitions for thousands of Jewish teens across the spectrum of religious observance. In fact, athletics aren’t truly the main event; rather, sports are the vehicle for fostering Jewish unity and pride.

Danielle Rose Nurko, a 16-year-old tennis player told Religion News Service that the annual Olympic-style competition for Jewish teens isn’t just about winning. “It makes me feel more attached to my religion,” she said. “It’s not only competing and meeting new people; I know that all these people have had the same experiences I’ve had.”

Groups are introduced during the opening ceremony as  attendees cheer on the athletes.    Kathryn Post photos

Hundreds of thousands of Israelis packed Tel Aviv on the night of August 17 — blocking several main roadways — for one of the largest rallies since the war against Hamas began. The protesters urged the government to end the fighting in Gaza and secure the hostages’ release. An estimated half a million joined the protest in Tel Aviv, and more than a million participated nationwide as rallies and strikes swept Jerusalem, Haifa, Beersheba and other cities.

Coverage by AP, The New York Times, Times of Israel

Facing budget cuts and swindling enrollment, Brandeis University said it would place its Yiddish program “on hiatus” after next year — a move that would effectively eliminate the role of Ellen Kellman, the university’s sole Yiddish professor for nearly three decades.

But the decision sparked an outcry. Within days, current www.ctigreenport.com and former students mobilized, firing off emails to the Dean of Arts and Sciences, Jeffrey Shoulson. The response was overwhelming — and effective. Moved by the deluge, Shoulson persuaded university leadership to reverse course and keep the program going, though on a more limited scale.

Students are hoping the program’s survival marks a turning point. “The story of Yiddish is similar to the story of the Jewish community as a whole,” said Ian Jacobs, a senior linguistics major at Brandeis. “Despite everything, despite external and internal pressure to stop, despite the institutional pressures, and genocides, and everything, Yiddish has managed to survive.”

When the Tel Aviv light rail opened in the summer of 2023, it shaved travel time from the city’s southern neighborhoods to the haredi Orthodox city of Bnei Brak to just 20 minutes. For some, the new route increased access to a burgeoning Thursday night tradition — sitting down for steaming bowls of cholent, the slow-cooked Ashkenazi Shabbat stew.

            “For me, having a bowl of cholent on Thursday night adds a little bit of Shabbat’s holiness into the end of the week, and deepens my connection to the ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods and people,” said Eliyahu Freedman, who travels with his friends from his home in Jaffa to Bnei Brak for the stew. So when a ruling from a prominent Haredi rabbi cast doubt on the permissibility of eating cholent outside Shabbat, Freedman said he was “shocked and disappointed.”

The rabbi, Yitzchok Zilberstein, addressed the issue in his weekly bulletin on Jewish law, where he responded to a question from yeshiva students concerned about whether weekday consumption of cholent diminishes the sanctity of Shabbat.

Citing Talmudic, Kabbalistic and later rabbinic sources, Zilberstein wrote that it is “appropriate not to eat cholent on weekdays, so that one can delight in it on Shabbat.” He went on to note that cholent is not only spiritually designated for Shabbat, but that its heavy ingredients may even pose a health risk when eaten without the merit of the holy day.

The simmering public response to Zilberstein’s ruling — on the street, on Facebook, in yeshivas, in the 70-some cholent restaurants throughout Israel — was enough to prompt a partial retraction. The rabbi’s grandson, Rabbi Chaim Malin, said the original response was intended as a recommendation to elevate the uniqueness of Shabbat.

The statement noted that cholent served at mitzvah meals — weddings, bar mitzvahs and other religious celebrations — is fully permitted, as is the Thursday night practice of serving it in yeshivas.

For now, the stew remains safe — not from the cholesterol, but at least from halachic rebuke.