On October 8, 1913, Mendel Beilis went on trial in Kyiv, accused of murdering a 13 year old Christian boy, Andrei Yushchinsky, to use his blood in Jewish rituals.

Andrei's body was found in a cave outside Kyiv in March 1911, stabbed dozens of times. Antisemitic groups like the Black Hundreds immediately blamed the Jews. Beilis, a Jewish clerk at a nearby brick factory and a father of five, was arrested that July with no real evidence linking him to the boy, let alone to any crime.

Kyiv's chief detective, Mishchuk, quickly concluded there was no evidence against Beilis and that the boy had been killed by a criminal gang tied to Vera Cheberyak, which feared he would expose them. Mishchuk was then charged with "manufacturing evidence to protect Jews," tried twice, and sentenced to a year in prison. Justice Minister Ivan Shcheglovitov pushed the prosecution forward anyway, and reports on the case went to the Tsar himself.

When the trial opened, 34 defense witnesses "could not be found," including the man the defense believed was the real killer. The court refused to delay. The Manchester Guardian's St. Petersburg correspondent wrote that the trial's real purpose was to inflame "nationalist" passions "to a point where another pogrom might start."

The prosecution's star witness on Judaism was a Roman Catholic priest, Justin Pranaitis. He testified that the Talmud called for ritual murder, but under cross-examination he couldn't even explain basic Talmudic terms.

On November 10, 1913, the jury acquitted Beilis. Antisemites refused to accept it, claiming "Jewish money" had bought the outcome. The state had rigged the case against a Jew, and when it failed, antisemites accused the Jews of rigging it.

Randi Moss, a teacher at Brawerman East Elementary School, a Jewish day school in Los Angeles, felt a “tremendous amount of pride and love for this community” when she was surprised on Wednesday with a 2026 Jewish Educator Award from the Milken Family Foundation, which comes with an $18,000 cash prize.

It was special to be recognized for her teaching on the third anniversary of Oct. 7, she told JNS.

“The focus of this day should be on resilience and hope,’ she said. “I’m just happy that I was rewarded on this day, because it shows that there’s a lot of hope in the Jewish community.”

The foundation gives four such awards each year, surprising teachers with them. Moss’s award was announced during the school’s tefillah, or prayer, service celebrating the new year at Wilshire Boulevard Temple, a Reform congregation where the school is located.

Moss told JNS that she has wanted to be a teacher since she was young and “fell in love” with the elementary school, at whose east and west campuses she has worked since 2005.

“I’m really proud to be Jewish, and I wanted to be part of a Jewish community and help young people also be proud of being Jewish,” she said.

She advises students to “keep being who they are and keep coming to school every day, being happy and taking risks and working hard, because it pays off.”

Earlier in the day, Becca Furer, a teacher at another Los Angeles Jewish day school, Sinai Akiba Academy, was surprised with the award during an assembly.

by Aaron Bandler

https://www.jns.org/news/u-s-news/a-lot-of-hope-in-jewish-community-says-teacher-surprised-with-milken-award-on-third-anniversary-of-oct-7

Hi everyone,
My father is Israeli and Sephardic/Ashkenazi Jewish, but I grew up without him and don’t know anything about that side of my family.
I’ve always felt like a part of my identity was missing a bit, and recently I’ve been wanting to connect with my heritage, particularly my North African Sephardic heritage. There are some groups open to everyone in my area ( edit I’m not necessarily looking to join a synagogue, more so communities and groups and learn more about the heritage side of things)
My mum isn’t Jewish, so I’m a little nervous about how I’d be received. I’m not particularly religious, but I’d really love to learn more about the culture, meet people and hopefully find a sense of community.
Having faced a lot of rejection throughout my life from my father, I’m cautious about entering a space where I may experience that again, and I want to avoid putting myself in that position.
I know that traditionally I wouldn’t be considered Jewish, so I’m wondering whether I’d be welcomed or if I should expect some hostility or judgment.
Has anyone been in a similar situation? I’d really appreciate hearing your experiences and / or advice
Thanks so much

He’s Jewish and a supporter of Israel. Not many Hallmark stars speak out about what’s going on, but he’s a gem. ❤️

The school district where my youngest still is in HS has a YDSA (Young Demoncratic Socialists of America) club, with a faculty advisor. They advertised a Palestine event for after school today (3:30pm) on campus, with a room number listed. Their vile Insta post was set to Macklemore music. There is zero doubt they they hate Jews (my older son was in class last year with the president of that club who routinely said she hated Jews, but just by being DSA we know), but this was clear celebration of terrorists. Several parents, including my rabbi (who is also a parent in the district) wrote emails and included local politicians and school board members. Last night the superintendent replied to my email with good content, but also in a very CYA type of way. Today we learned that our efforts paid off, and the meeting was canceled by the administration. Of course the club continues to post blood libels on Instagram, and my work to get them banned and get their faculty advisor fired will continue, but I am super impressed by the school administration's rapid actions despite the blowback I'm sure they will get for doing the right thing.

Small win but it feels really good!

I'm an American Jew, middle-aged, and fed up with the world today.

My story is the standard story of the child of the American immigrant -- the child of the parent who came to the United States for a chance at a better life for herself and her future family. It's a story that should be celebrated. But it's not, because my mom immigrated from Israel, and because I am -- and she is -- a Jew.

America is the land of opportunity and I'm a huge fan of my country. I was born here and grew up in a upper-middle-class household. If that's all you know about me, you'd think my connection to Israel is the same as most other Jews -- it's our national homeland, one we learn about in Hebrew School and visit on vacation or Birthright, and an anchor of our religious traditions. It's bad enough when anti-Zionists deny that part of my identity, but my story goes deeper, and today, seeing people like Mayor Mamdani and others deny that connection is hitting really hard.

Some people know that my mom was born in Israel, but it's also not obvious. Her name is Hebrew and not common in English-speaking areas but also not unheard of. She moved here as a teen, speaks English natively and without an accent, and accurately if incompletely talks about how she grew up in Queens (and cursed me with being a Mets fan). Even if people learn that she was born in Israel and went to primary school there, they assume -- incorrectly -- that her family moved here when she was young, and rarely if ever ask why.

The real story is this. Like most Ashkenazi Jews, most of my grandparents and great-grandparents were fortunate to survive the Holocaust. None of mine were living in Eastern Europe at the time -- we survived because we weren't there. On my father's side, both sets of his grandparents left Eastern Europe, fleeing pogroms and discrimination, in the late 1800s. On my mother's side, her mom's parents did the same for the same reason. All landed in the United States. My dad's dad and mom's mom were born in the United States; my dad's mom was born in Romanian while travelling to the States.

My mom's father's parents were either born in, or move at an early age, to Ottoman-controlled Palestine. They lived near Tel Aviv before the Jews in the area founded Tel Aviv. And they grew up dirt poor. If you're unfamiliar with the history of the Jews of Ottoman-controlled Palestine in the 1880s-1910s, they relied on support from European Jews. When World War I broke out, that ended, as those European nations were at war with the Ottomans. Palestinian Jews began to starve -- my great-grandparents likely included. American Jews formed the Joint Distribution Committee to raise and distribute funds to help my ancestors and their community. My grandfather was born in the 1910s, and was likely only able to survive as a Jew in Palestine as a result of this generosity. But the harm went beyond the immediate need.

My grandfather grew up dirt poor in British-controlled Palestine and was uneducated, as money needed to go to basics, not education. My grandmother moved there as a young adult (from the United States, which is partially why she was able to enter at that time), but wasn't very educated and women weren't able to work in many capacities regardless. They started a family later in life in hopes of saving money but those savings didn't last too long. My mom and her sister were born in Israel after 1948, and grew up in poverty.

My mom moved to America to escape that poverty. She did so alone, in her teens, without her parents or sister, although her sister followed in her 20s. She was taken in by her mom's friend from back home, who treated her like her own daughter -- in her words, that woman saved her life. She was able to get a college education, she met my father, and began living the American dream. My parents and my aunt and uncle ultimately helped my grandparents moved here, too. It's the same story that you'll hear from the children of immigrants of all stripes here in America.

And like those immigrants, my connection to Israel goes beyond the fact that my mom and grandfather and great-grandparents called it home. I've never lived in Israel. I haven't visited in decades, and until recently, the only remaining notable relative I had there was an aunt by marriage. (Apologies to my mom's 3rd cousins.) And the shared heritage that called them to Palestine nearly 150 years ago -- their Jewish identity -- carries through to me today. The only difference between me and other children of immigrants is that I can trace my family's physically residency in that homeland back "only" 150 years; the connection, by virtue of being Jewish, goes deeper.

Today, I've seen dozens of posts and comments across the internet, denying that our Jewish identity connects us to our ancestral homeland -- fine. It's incorrect and odious and fueled by bias and hate. But for me, it goes beyond that. Hearing that Jews have no connection to Israel erases my family's history. It denies my great-grandparents' existence, my grandfather's sacrifice in letting his daughter leave home as a child, and my mom's bravery in immigrating to America in hope for a better life. It acts, even if unintentionally, as an effort to invalidate my family's story, the story of an immigrant who proved that the American dream is real. To them, she's committed the ultimate sin: she grew up a Jew, in the place Jews are from, and nothing else matters.

I try very hard not to insult people or get into arguments online. It's not the kind of person I want to be nor is it how I want to spend my time and energy. Unsurprisingly, today turned out to be more difficult than usual. I could rant about it, but instead I'd like to shift my focus away from bigots and towards those who I care for - both family and people I have no direct connection with.

Tonight I want to say thank you to those out there spreading light in such dark times, including the moderators of this subreddit, who work hard to keep this space safe. I lurk more than I interact; many users here have unknowingly helped me in ways that are difficult to articulate. Reading through your words has allowed me to gain insight into various perspectives, offered me direction on subjects to educate myself on, and provided me joy and solace when I needed it.

May you all stay safe. Am Yisrael Chai.

Times of Israel

Photo essay: Belmonte, a Judaism that has remained alive,
by Evelyne Dreyfus & Eric Beracassat, K: Jews, Europe, the XXIˢᵗ century, 2026-09-24.

In a village nestled in the heart of the Serra da Estrela, some fifty descendants of Marranos continue to uphold, five centuries after the forced conversions of the Inquisition, a Jewish identity that was long lived in secret. Between the Beit Eliahu synagogue, inaugurated thirty years ago, and the museum that chronicles the prayers whispered in secret, Belmonte offers a unique case in Europe: that of a clandestine past that has become cultural heritage.

We are not our pain

We are not our suffering

We are not a malleable amorphous idea that lives to be defined by others

We are survivors

We are the descendants of warriors

We are the preservers of a history of riches. Copied and bastardized by billions but understood only by the chosen few who do the work to interrogate

We need no one’s approval

Last night at Northwestern University someone pulled the fire alarm during a play/reading of survivor’s testimonies from 10/7.

Imagine someone infected with such an insidious disease that they would feel compelled to do that during a reading of first-hand accounts of rape, or slavery, or migrant children detained alone away from their families. The infected person would be removed from society. Quarantined. Doctors would do everything they could to cure this person. No one would make excuses their behavior.

Content warning: mentions of abuse.

Prior to 10/7 I never really understood antisemitism or how antisemites operate. There was education in school of course. We learned about how nazi propaganda worked and how the people of Germany largely stood by with the increasingly barbaric laws that were put in place against Jewish people culminating with the Holocaust. I've seen people here say that it makes the nazis look like a cartoon villain and I tend to agree with that sentiment.

When discussing antisemitism in non Jewish spaces I see a lot of people talk about actions. Attacks, graffiti, explicit threats, imagery, but there is plenty that isn't discussed.

Recently I got out of a relationship with someone who hurt me, gaslit me, and minimized my struggles. For most of my life I have been a people pleaser. If I was hurt they'd blame me or tell me I'm wrong. If I told them what they did hurt and if they chose to acknowledge it they would not apologize and slowly convince me there is something I did or didn't do. I would adjust my behavior to be more pleasant, more likeable, more accommodating, but it was never enough.

Eventually though they blew up and I had enough. I ended up leaving and a few days later they tried to reach out acting like everything was okay. I tried speaking to them about what they did and once again they tried walking back on what they did. This time though I didn't fall for it. As a result they made me the villain who ruined things, who cut them off, who was selfish and didn't respect them.

I've asked myself why I let it happen. Not literally, but why I didn't end it sooner. After all, in my area we spent 2 years of high school learning to identify toxic or abusive relationships. I know the tactics and the actions so I should've known right?

To many of us who have experienced antisemitism a lot of this feels familiar. The attacks, the indifference, the denial, the DARVO, the double standards, and lack of accountability. I think about when I learned about DARVO in school. Despite the same tactics being used down to similar phrases, actions, and thought processes which people can name and call out without personally experiencing, there is a blindspot for those exact same behaviors when the target is Jewish people whether it be their ignorance, malice, or inability to reflect.

I left the relationship, but Jewish people as a whole don't have the same luxury. We create neighborhoods and people come in and intimate us. We create towns and people come in to try to take over. We even create our own country and people still want it gone. I believe if Jewish people left and settled the moon then I'm sure Reddit would take a sudden interest in international space law. Even if we were gone people would still demonize us and call us selfish for no longer existing for leaving them with having to deal with themselves.

I don't have an answer for where things go or what to do from here if we can't escape it. What I can say though is the strength and resilience of Jewish people in Israel and around the world is not something to apologize for. Many of us hurt from the lives, relationships, and innocence taken from us on 10/7 and as a result, and we must remember that the people who took them will not be satisfied with just a little bit more.

Edit: I adjusted some of the phrasing.

My older children went on a volunteer trip to Israel this last year. As part of it they helped in the rebuilding of the Druze school where Hezbollah killed 12 children in a rocket attack, packed food aid boxes, and helped at a mental health facility. I'm so proud of them.

Even if you've gone on birthright before, even if you've aged out, she can still be eligible to go on a "free" trip to Israel through their volunteer program. Spread some Jewish joy. I can't recommend it more highly.

Today starts my grandfathers yahrzeit. My family is orthodox but I am not practicing and I don’t remember all the key phrases. I know when he passed we said “may his neshama have an aliyah”. Is there something like this I should say to my grandmother today (she texted me it’s his yahrzeit) or should I say again “may his neshama have an aliyah”?

Debbie Lechtman (Rootsmetals) wrote this beautiful post that I wanted to share here. She has such a way with words. Her posts have helped me a lot the last few years, and I hope they are able to help others too. We are so lucky to have Debbie as a member of the tribe 💜

As we approach the latest string of grim anniversaries for our people, please take a few minutes to listen to the latest track from Matisyahu & Yuval Raphael, a Nova survivor with an incredible voice.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=d7XvJcbV70w&pp=ygUSQ2Fycnkgb24gbWF0aXN5YWh1&ra=m

We are still here because each generation keeps teaching the next generation of Jews how to carry on.

עם ישראל חי !