For more than four decades, Rabbi Ronald Kaplan’s primary tool for his work was his voice. It was the instrument he relied on every Shabbat and holiday on the bimah, in the classroom, under the chuppah, at the cemetery and in the hospital — guiding congregants through both moments of celebration and grief. As he puts it, a rabbi’s task is to “pray, to teach, to inspire, to counsel and to lead” — and the voice is the means to do it.

But this year, as the nation marks the 25th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks — a commemoration that falls as the major Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashanah begins on Friday night — that work of speaking and remembering holds particular resonance for Kaplan, whose service as a spiritual first responder at Ground Zero during the aftermath of the attacks ultimately cost him his “greatest sacrifice” — his voice.

In the late 1990s, the American Red Cross and the National Association of Jewish Chaplains sought to prepare clergy for disasters that were not acts of nature. In the wake of the 1997 crash of TWA Flight 800 off Long Island, they piloted a program for “spiritual first responders” to support survivors, bereaved families and recovery workers. Kaplan, then a congregational rabbi living in northern New Jersey, enrolled in what became known as the Spiritual Air Disaster Intervention Response (SAIR) program in the fall of 2000.

“When the program was offered, I was energized by its content and thought it would add to my chaplaincy skills,” Kaplan wrote in a recollection to Jewish Insider. “I never assumed nor expected to be mobilized so quickly.” 

Kaplan said the call to serve at Ground Zero came just days after the attacks. “It was nearly as startling as the attacks themselves, for I felt so ill-prepared and inadequate with any experience,” he said. His instructor’s chilling hypothetical — what if a plane hit the World Trade Center? — “immediately came to mind.”

Starting on Sept. 19, 2001, Kaplan began making regular journeys from New Jersey to Lower Manhattan, returning weekly through the spring of 2002. At the staging area at Liberty State Park, he donned a green vest emblazoned with the word “CHAPLAIN” and introduced himself to grieving families and exhausted rescue workers. 

“Who would I meet? Who or what would be recovered? What will I say, what will I learn, and where could we see any source of light in this darkness,” Kaplan recalled in a personal reflection he wrote this week titled “Pain in the Neck: Speaking Up Without the Voice 9/11 Took From Me.”

“I was tasked with meeting with many of the grieving family members and rescue workers, identifying myself as a chaplain,” Kaplan told JI. “I explained what they would witness, encouraged them to hold on to each other and gain strength as a group.”

From there, he joined New Jersey state troopers and families on the ferry across the Hudson, heading toward an elevated wooden platform overlooking the ruins that recovery workers called simply “The Pile.” 

Kaplan describes the scene as “ancient liturgy for modern horror”: the acrid air, pulverized concrete, twisted steel and battered office furniture strewn amid the rubble, punctuated by sudden cries when recovery teams found human remains or fragments of clothing.

“I can vividly picture the walk to the pile, seeing the flames, feeling the intense heat and hearing the deafening noise from the machinery,” Kaplan said. “The horrific scene was incomprehensible. I could not process what my eyes were seeing and my ears were hearing.” 

Many of those he accompanied instinctively covered their mouths and noses because “it was so difficult to breathe,” he added. “There were no masks, nor equipment for protection. There were no hard hats and no protective gear. Just my kippah served as my protection.”

Kaplan’s training as a congregational rabbi and chaplain — decades spent at hospital bedsides, cemeteries and shiva houses — shaped how he approached those walks to the platform and the moments of stunned silence that followed.

“As a congregational rabbi, a chaplain and a spiritual leader, I learned how to listen, knowing that I was there to reflect their stories and focus on others,” he said. “My personal feelings needed to be bracketed. I needed to be directed and focused on those who needed my presence.” 

Many of the people who poured out their grief to him “spoke to me not wanting nor waiting for an answer,” he added. “My presence was their support. This is a lesson I carry to this day. What I represented to them as a clergy with a connection to God and faith was more important than any words I could offer.”

When recovery operations abruptly halted upon the discovery of human remains, Kaplan broke the stillness with an ecumenical prayer in English and Hebrew — “a tribute to the loss of one life, nearly three thousand times,” as he wrote. In his files from that period, he still keeps a sheet of paper he used on Dec. 2, 2001, titled “Closing Prayer at Ground Zero,” still stained with World Trade Center soot. When he rubs his thumb along the page, the dust still smudges his skin — “the same dust of history,” he writes, “and the dust of my voice’s demise.”

For years after 9/11, Kaplan did not directly connect his Ground Zero service to his health. He first began experiencing symptoms — “a persistent deep cough and hoarse voice” — in late 2019. He was diagnosed with laryngeal cancer in 2020.

“I never made the connection,” he said. During an early consultation, Kaplan’s physician ran through the usual risk factors — smoking, heavy drinking and HPV. “When my answers were all in the negative, he looked at me and asked: ‘Did you ever work at Ground Zero?’” Kaplan recalled. “He immediately connected my rare cancer to my exposure on the pile.”

New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani this week released more than 170,000 pages of previously undisclosed documents indicating that city officials misled the public about air quality at Ground Zero — assuring people the fallout was harmless even as they knew it was unsafe to inhale. Asked whether these efforts to hold the city accountable distract from the terrorists’ responsibility for his suffering, Kaplan said both “can be done simultaneously, and both need the attention.”

“At first I did not fully comprehend [the cancer’s] ramifications and only wanted to know if [it] was treatable and curable,” he said. What followed was a long journey back to health “as chaotic and unpredictable as my work on the pile”: nine full rounds of chemotherapy, 35 sessions of radiation and, in 2023, a 12-hour throat reconstruction surgery, along with a total laryngectomy. 

“My greatest challenge is my frustration and difficulty in communicating verbally with people since my laryngectomy,” Kaplan said. “This has isolated me from my family and community in deep and profound ways.” Yet even so, he insists, “it has not lessened my faith and I do not question why.”

Today, a quarter-century after his weekly journeys to Lower Manhattan, Kaplan’s sacrifice remains an active, daily reality. Following his diagnosis and years of treatment, the cancer has returned and he is once again undergoing treatment at Memorial Sloan Kettering’s satellite clinic in Basking Ridge, with another major surgery scheduled for next month. 

“I don’t ask why,” Kaplan wrote. “I just say thank you — for my wife, for my sons and daughter-in-law, for my grandchildren, and to my Creator, for the ultimate gift of life.”

As the 9/11 generation ages, Kaplan worries about how the story of that day — and the moral obligations it created — will be remembered by those who were not yet born. 

“Fortunately, the annual memorial commemoration at the reflecting pools and in large and small communities throughout the nation help us all to remember,” Kaplan said. “But with each passing year the crowds diminish and a new generation has not yet been taught the story and the ramifications of this singular event. Our world is as broken today as it was on 9/11.”

This year, as the anniversary of the 9/11 attacks coincides with erev Rosh Hashanah, Kaplan said he hopes synagogues and Jewish communities will lean into the calendar convergence.

“I deeply hope that congregations will add appropriate mention through liturgy and ritual in marking 9/11 on erev Rosh Hashanah,” he said. “After all, Rosh Hashanah is also known as Yom Hazikaron, the day of Remembrance. The kesher (the bond) is too obvious to ignore!”

For more than 150 years, Baltimore’s Orthodox Jews have walked to synagogue on Preakness Saturday and listened to the roar of the crowd from less than a mile away, never able to join it. 

That changes in 2027, when the second jewel in horse racing’s Triple Crown — following the Kentucky Derby and preceding the Belmont Stakes — moves from Saturday to Sunday, finally opening Pimlico’s gates to the local Shabbat-observant community for the first time since the race started in 1873. 

Maryland Gov. Wes Moore and the Maryland Jockey Club announced earlier this month that the 152nd Preakness will run Sunday, May 23, 2027 — eight days later than its usual third Saturday in May date. 

The move wasn’t made for the Orthodox Jewish community’s benefit — but rather to give horses more time to rest following the Kentucky Derby. Still, locals say Baltimore’s observant community could have factored into the decision, as the city has one of the largest Orthodox populations in the country.

“Growing up, I would walk to synagogue every Shabbat of Preakness and I’d be able to hear the crowd roaring. I always felt like I was missing out,” Alex Friedman, a member of the Baltimore City Democratic State Central Committee, told Jewish Insider. “The Preakness is a central identity of Baltimore and of Maryland. When people think of our city and our state, they think of the Preakness. Baltimore doesn’t have that many nationally recognized symbols — it’s Fort McHenry and Pimlico.” 

“As a proud Baltimorian who has never had the chance to go to Preakness — which is right by my house — I’m very excited about the opportunity. I know a lot of people are excited. My dad’s lived in the neighborhood for 60 years and never been able to go,” said Friedman. 

Baltimore City Councilman Yitzy Schleifer told JI that he spoke with Moore’s team as plans to change the date of the race were being developed.

“[We spoke] about the importance of this decision and that it be inclusive of the large Orthodox Jewish community,” he said.  

“Now Preakness is being rebuilt, reimagined and strengthened for generations to come. And now, for the first time, Orthodox Jewish Baltimoreans will be able to fully share in Preakness Day,” said Schleifer. 

Many Orthodox Jews avoid horse betting because traditional Jewish law discourages gambling. However, Friedman noted that the community could benefit from track betting. A portion of that money helps local neighborhoods, meaning people who bet and lose are still helping the community, he said. 

For some observant Jews involved in racing, the overlap between Shabbat and the Triple Crown isn’t new territory. Ahmed Zayat, the Orthodox owner of 2015 Triple Crown winner American Pharoah, famously slept in RVs near Pimlico and Belmont Park and walked to the tracks on Shabbat rather than drive. 

The news marks a significant shift for observant Jews outside of Charm City too, said David Warschawski, a Baltimore-based marketing executive whose eponymous agency represents sports-related organizations and brands. 

“This is a phenomenal moment in the Jewish sporting world,” Warschawski told JI. “There’s so much history of Jews and the horse racing history and now to allow all segments of the Jewish community to be able to attend one of the premier races, I don’t think this is just a positive for the greater Baltimore Jewish community but for any sports and horse racing enthusiasts who [are observant Jews]. Now you have a destination event they can go to — that they can take your kids to — that before wasn’t even a thought.” 

“Moving it to Sunday makes sense from a sports standpoint,” continued Warschawski. “But then from a Jewish standpoint, it’s fantastic. Look at how many Jews love to go to [Baltimore] Ravens games. The majority of football games are on Sunday and that has been a winning formula to getting all ethnicities and religions to attend. So this makes all the sense in the world to me as someone who is involved in sports business.” 

Eli Schlossberg, a historian of the local Baltimore observant community, similarly has childhood memories of walking on Preakness Shabbat and standing by the fences in the backstretch as the horses came around toward the finish line. 

“Not that I was into horses, but it was something we did,” he recalled. “We did it as shtick. From my home it was about a 25-minute walk. But very few religious people were involved in horses here.”

In the 1960s, a few Orthodox-owned businesses operated in the Park Heights neighborhood around Pimlico, Schlossberg noted. Today, Baltimore’s Jewish center is in Pikesville, about a 30-minute walk from the Preakness track.

“Will frum people go on Sunday? Who knows,” he said. “Maybe it will be something the younger generation will like to do.” 

Friedman predicts observant Jews will turn out at Pimlico — and that the track may follow Oriole Park at Camden Yards and M&T Bank Stadium in adding kosher food stands.

“We’ve never had the opportunity before, but there could be a demand now,” he said.  

Clad in khaki uniforms and merit badges, hundreds of scouts gathered on a Saturday morning for a sight that has become increasingly rare in America: a Jewish prayer service without security and where nobody felt the need to look over their shoulder.  

At a moment when Jewish students contemplating the upcoming school year are weighing whether to wear or hide their Star of David necklaces as they return to the classroom, this summer’s Scouting America national jamboree in West Virginia offered a different message — holding a full, public Shabbat service for its Jewish scouts as part of an event organizers describe as one of the last unapologetically inclusive spaces for religious minorities in youth culture.

“I’ve had the privilege of going to synagogue services around the world for the past 20 years. [The jamboree] was the only one I’ve been to, other than in Israel, where there was no need for security around the service,” Ricky Mason, chair of Scouting America’s national executive board, told Jewish Insider. 

Mason was elected chair in May, the first Jewish leader to hold the volunteer post in about 50 years. His election followed the decision in February 2025 by the Boy Scouts of America to change its corporate name to Scouting America, coinciding with the organization’s 115th anniversary, in an effort to be more inclusive. 

At last month’s jamboree — a signature scouting event held every four years — Mason is believed to be the first Jewish national chair to receive an aliyah at the gathering, he told JI.  Although he grew up as a Boy Scout, this was his first time attending the jamboree, where tens of thousands of scouts and volunteers engage in 10 days of activities such as rock climbing, ziplining and camping.  

Mason is the third Jewish chair of the Boy Scouts since the 1930s. Mortimer Schiff, a prominent banker in New York City, was named the first Jewish leader in May 1931, during a period of rising antisemitism. “They had no issue with him being Jewish and it’s the same today,” said Mason, who added that before being elected, he “made it very clear I’m Jewish and received positive reactions.”  

Mason credited scouting’s faith-based roots for its inclusivity, noting that troops are often sponsored by churches, synagogues and mosques, and that the 115-year-old Scout Oath explicitly binds members to a “duty to God and my country.”

“So we have a duty to God here,” he said, describing the setting at jamboree as “the Jewish tent beside the Islamic tent beside the Latter Day Saints.” But the different religions also interact with each other, he said, noting he recently received Scouting’s National Islamic Committee’s highest award. “We also have an inter-religious committee, representatives of all of the faiths in scouting. We have a very close cooperative relationship,” said Mason.  

According to Mason, the experience also let participants learn about Jewish customs they might not otherwise know. This group included a shomer shabbat contingent of about 20 youth from the Northeast.“ The volunteer staff, which is mostly non-Jewish, had erected an eruv around their campsite for Shabbat. “That cooperation is emblematic of scouting,” said Mason.   

Among those who connected with their Jewish identity at the jamboree was a 14-year-old girl from West Virginia. Although her mother had mentioned their Jewish roots, the family had never been affiliated with a community. The girl was drawn to a delegation from Israel made up of children of American and Canadian immigrants, according to Erik Claster, the founder of BSI, an independent boy and girl scouting organization in Israel modeled after Scouting America. After spending time at their campsite, the girl asked a volunteer how she could become a bat mitzvah, Claster recalled. 

Together with the shomer shabbat contingent, “We had a little ceremony for her, we gave her gifts,” he said. “It was the only Jewish experience she’s had in her 14 years and it could also be the last, who knows. But she was attracted to our contingent.” 

Claster, who grew up in rural Kansas where he was a boy scout before making aliyah 30 years ago, brought a group of 11 boys and girls to the jamboree, his second time doing so. For many, it was their first time coming to the U.S. since the start of the Israel-Hamas war and ensuing antisemitism. “A lot of our scouts came unsure of what it would hold for them,” said Claster. They’ve been hearing a lot about what goes on with their family and friends in the last few years since the war, about blatant anti-Israel [rhetoric] and antisemitism. They didn’t know what to expect and we had to prepare them.” 

“We weren’t just Jewish, we’re also from Israel. We have Israeli patches to go along with our American patches, we have an Israeli flag that we had at all the ceremonies and at our campsite. It could have theoretically gone in a very different direction but thankfully it didn’t. It was happy and welcoming,” he said.  

“We do have a track record — scouts in general are pro-Israel in the sense there is no negative sentiment. The ethos of scouts is to be friendly, courteous and kind,” Claster continued. 

Still, he noted that for many at the jamboree, this was their first time meeting someone Jewish, let alone from Israel.

“But kids are kids,” he said. “When you’re doing a zip line, when you’re white-water rafting, it’s not an issue. It’s the best environment for kids who come from different backgrounds to share a core baseline value system.” 

Ahead of the jamboree, Mason and other scouts designed a custom patch that was copied into about 3,000 patches that he signed and traded. Divided into triangles, he included three personal symbols on his patch: the New York City skyline, a mountain he has climbed and a Torah scroll. 

“I used it as an opportunity to teach,” he recalled. “A 14-year-old asked me, ‘What’s this at the top?’ I said, ‘Well, I’m Jewish and that’s a Torah scroll.’ I got a huge positive reaction.”  

“It’s a very safe space for Jewish kids,” continued Mason. “And the Jewish kids who saw that there was a Jewish chair for scouting, their smiles were as wide as the Mississippi River.” 

A new app called Sabbath is selling an ancient pitch to a modern, phone-addicted crowd: lock technology away for one sacred day a week.

The app, launched earlier this month by Dig Wells — the makers of the reading app Matter and the habit tracker Halo — is designed to help users unplug from sundown to sundown on either Saturday or Sunday. Users pick the apps they wish to block at no cost, while a paid tier adds custom weekday blocks, such as a daily 5-7 p.m. family time or an hour for morning meditation. 

Founder Ben Springwater told Jewish Insider the app draws inspiration from Shabbat. “I’m Jewish and I grew up celebrating Shabbat with my family,” he said. His family didn’t keep a strict Sabbath — they drove and used electronics — but Friday night dinner and prayers was “a cornerstone of my life growing up” and “a way to anchor the week,” he recalled. Springwater has since built a similar Shabbat practice with his wife and two young children.

“I have a startup, I work hard and I’m always online. I’m on X a lot. I’ve increasingly been feeling like I need a way to introduce some boundaries and a little bit of rest and recovery into my life,” Springwater told JI.

He said that notion drew him to the idea of observing Shabbat beyond a Friday night meal —- though he wasn’t ready to go full in. 

“I like having my phone with me on the weekends and being able to communicate with my friends,” said Springwater. “I don’t want to create impositions that don’t allow me to enjoy the day. But I don’t want to be checking X when I’m out at the park with my family. The rule that I created for myself was no X and no work apps, the ones I compulsively want to turn to.” 

Already, there were several popular apps on the market that have built businesses around tracking screentime and helping people block distracting social media. There are also physical devices, such as Brick, that disable apps of a user’s choosing. 

“We didn’t want to just add another stone to the pile, but I had gone on my own journey with the Sabbath and saw there was something very simple, powerful and easy about this ancient system of taking one day of rest. So what if we created an app totally oriented around that practice?” said Springwater. 

The name Sabbath “popped to mind immediately,” he told JI. “We did talk about how explicitly we want to make this app about religion. Where we came was that we want to connect with the religious tradition. There should be religious undertones but we don’t want to make it denominational.”  

The Sabbath app — which Springwater calls “Shabbat with training wheels” — offers an accessible experience for everyone from culturally observant Jews to wellness enthusiasts who may miss the Jewish reference.  

“It helps someone who is Sabbath-curious but can’t make that big of a commitment,” said Springwater. “It’s trying to make a bigger tent, get more people to experience some of the benefits and virtues of what Shabbat offers.”  

Springwater’s idea has received support even from Jews who already keep Shabbat. 

“The world of technology continues to evolve and change at breakneck speeds,” said Rabbi Mordechai Lightstone, the director of Tech Tribe, a New York-based affiliate of Chabad Young Professionals that serves as a gathering place for Jews working in the tech sector. “Even while the trajectory it propels us into continues to remain unknown, I firmly believe that as a society we are capable of using tech — be it social media, AI or whatever else comes our way — for positive and uplifting purposes.” 

“But to do that, it’s critical that we align our own internal system with positive and redemptive forces,” Lightstone told JI. “Taking a break from the digital distractions that surround us, as Ben’s App Sabbath encourages, is a key step towards recentering our inner algorithm around the core values that we need to properly channel technology: Community, family, study and meaningful spiritual connection — to very literally touch grass.” 

The launch of the Sabbath app arrives just as observing a weekly day of rest — whether Jewish or Christian — has recently gained viral popularity. 

Facing terminal stage 4 pancreatic cancer, former U.S. Senator and University of Florida President Ben Sasse shared in recent interviews that he regrets not better honoring the Christian Sabbath. Supermodel Karlie Kloss, who converted to Judaism before marrying businessman Joshua Kushner, shared on a recent podcast that she does not drive or touch her phone on Shabbat. Outside of the religious sphere, tech entrepreneur and longevity biohacker Bryan Johnson frequently posts on X about digital minimalism, advocating for multi-day phone and social media fasts to improve health.  

Springwater said the role of his app is not to offer community or shape how people spend their time, but it does include a feature where users can add “friends,” the equivalent of Facebook connections, in order to create some accountability and mutual support. 

If a user wants to check Instagram while using Sabbath, they open the app and press “pause,” which requires them to type in a reason. “It introduces this friction so you can’t just open it in the heat of the moment, but you can still do it. There’s a balancing act, you don’t want to make it so impossible because in some cases someone might have to circumvent it,” said Springwater.  

“The reason that you type in to end your Sabbath is then visible to your ‘friends’ on [the app]. At the end of Sabbath, you can see if someone had a perfect Sabbath or if they took two breaks. The social features are for accountability and support but they don’t facilitate some sense of community on the Sabbath,” he said.  

Springwater said that while fighting antisemitism by building cultural bridges was not the original goal for his app, that idea has grown on him since its launch. 

“One of the things that is so hopeful to me about the Sabbath is how crosscutting and universal it is. I’ve observed that a lot of different types of figures across the religious and cultural spectrum have been resonating with this idea. You can come at it with a very explicitly religious value system or a more secular value system, but you can find common cause in what this practice has to offer,” he said. 

“There are very few things that so many different types of people can agree on and think is a good thing and all get behind,” continued Springwater. “The World Cup was one of them — it feels like the practice of Sabbath is another.”  

Shortly before the start of Shabbat on Friday — and days ahead of a Shavuot event at Gracie Mansion — New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani posted a video for “Nakba Day” that sparked a wave of outrage among Jewish leaders for its failure to acknowledge crucial facts surrounding the birth of the State of Israel.

Mamdani’s video featured Inea Bushaq, a translator of Bosnian descent, part of a community that arrived in the Ottoman-ruled Holy Land in the late 19th century, contemporaneous with Zionist settlement. In his accompanying tweet from his official government account, the mayor referred to her as a “New Yorker and a Nakba survivor.”

“Today marks Nakba Day, an annual day of remembrance to commemorate the expulsion of more than 700,000 Palestinians between 1947 and 1949 during the creation of the State of Israel and the year that followed,” the mayor wrote.

The term nakba, meaning “catastrophe” in Arabic, gained currency through the work of the midcentury Syrian writer Constantin Zureiq — who used it to broadly refer to the defeat of Arab countries in their attempted campaign of annihilation against the fledgling Jewish State in 1948-1949. Like many of his intellectual contemporaries, Zureiq viewed the Arabs as a single people and hoped that the loss might become the starting point for a program of modernization and unification across the Arab world.

But as Israel emerged victorious from several subsequent clashes with its rivals, and the pan-Arabist cause foundered, the term became a rallying cry for Palestinian nationalism in particular.

Jewish leaders noted that Mamdani’s account ignored the massacres and expulsions of Jewish communities that invading Arab forces carried out during the war — and the subsequent purges of Mizrahi Jewish populations across the Middle East in the years that followed. Israel took in more than 800,000 Jewish refugees from Muslim countries, who today form the majority of the country’s Jewish population, while Arab countries other than Jordan refused to grant citizenship rights to Palestinians.

“I have largely remained silent in public since January 1 because I believe criticism should be constructive and focused,” wrote Brooklyn Lubavitcher Rabbi Yaacov Behrman, recalling how the Jordanian military forced out the Jewish population during its conquest and annexation of the Old City of Jerusalem. “But this post about the Nakba is deeply disturbing, not only because of its one sided and dishonest characterization of history, but also because it attempts to delegitimize Israel as a state even before 1967.”

Others shared Behrman’s fears that the mayor’s post would further polarize the city at a time when anti-Israel demonstrators have massed outside synagogues chanting support for Hamas, waving the flag of Hezbollah and calling for Israel’s destruction — and when federal authorities recently thwarted an alleged Iran-linked plot to attack a New York synagogue.

Mark Treyger, CEO of Jewish Community Relations Council-New York, highlighted that Israel accepted the 1947 United Nations partition plan that would have established neighboring Jewish and Arab states in the former British mandate zone — a proposal that both the U.S.- and Soviet-led blocs approved.

“Referencing this chapter of history without acknowledging the full history, including the post-World War II U.N. partition plan supporting two states for two peoples, which Jews accepted, does nothing to advance understanding,” wrote Treyger. “New Yorkers should expect leadership that lowers the temperature, brings people together, and makes every community feel seen, respected, and safe, including Jewish New Yorkers.”

Others were less conciliatory in their messaging.

“Still wondering why hatred against Jews is so high in NYC? We have a mayor who is using government resources to disseminate a narrative and incite hostile propaganda,” wrote Assemblymember Simcha Eichenstein. “Oh BTW, what about the 850,000 Jews that were forced to flee Arab countries during that period? Did that simply not make its way into the final video?”

Eichenstein’s former Assembly colleague, Dan Rosenthal — now the vice president for government relations at the UJA-Federation of New York — was similarly outraged.

“Every opportunity the Mayor has had to lead as a unifying and inclusive leader, he has instead chosen to deepen division, inflame tensions, and fail in his fundamental responsibility to bring people together,” he posted on X. “On the same day the feds indicted a terrorist for planning to blow up a NYC synagogue, the Mayor is busy putting out taxpayer-funded social media propaganda. This administration is not serious about Jewish safety.” 

President Donald Trump encouraged Jewish Americans to observe Shabbat next weekend in his Jewish American Heritage Month proclamation issued earlier this week, marking the first time a U.S. president has called for a national Shabbat.

The president wrote in the proclamation, issued on Monday, that he urged American Jews to “observe a national Sabbath” from sundown on Friday, May 15, 2026, to sundown on Saturday, May 16, 2026. The Shabbat coincides with Rededicate 250, Trump’s national prayer event commemorating “250 glorious years of American independence” as part of his Freedom 250 initiative, the public-private partnership overseeing the Semiquincentennial of the United States. 

“Throughout this historic year, we rejoice in the triumph of the American spirit and rededicate ourselves to the cause of liberty and justice for all,” the proclamation reads. “From sundown on May 15 to nightfall on May 16, friends, families, and communities of all backgrounds may come together in gratitude for our great Nation. This day will recognize the sacred Jewish tradition of setting aside time for rest, reflection, and gratitude to the Almighty.”

“I call upon Americans to celebrate the heritage and contributions of Jewish Americans and to observe this month with appropriate programs, activities, and ceremonies,” it continues. “I further call on all Americans to celebrate their faith and freedom throughout this year, during this month, and especially on Shabbat to celebrate our 250th year.”

The decree went on to highlight the resilient nature of the Jewish people and encourage religious tolerance. 

“This month, we celebrate the contributions that Jewish Americans have made to our way of life, we honor their role in shaping the story of our Nation, and we remember that religious devotion, learning, and service to others are enduring pillars of a thriving culture,” it read. “Through every trial and triumph, the contributions of Jewish Americans have shaped our past, have strengthened our communities, and will continue to inspire American greatness for generations to come.”

U.S. presidents have been recognizing Jewish American Heritage Month annually since 2006, the result of a bipartisan, bicameral push by Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schultz (D-FL) and the late Sen. Arlen Specter, who was a Republican at the time. Wasserman Schultz has led the House resolution recognizing Jewish American Heritage Month every year since. 

This year’s White House proclamation marks the first time that the call for a national Shabbat has been included.

A source who engaged with the White House as they were drafting the proclamation and planning Rededicate 250 told Jewish Insider that the White House Faith Office made overtures to several Jewish leaders to inquire about “what would be appropriate to do for people who are Jewish.” The office, the source said, “emphasized that this was a directive from the president. He asked them to make sure that Jewish Americans are comfortable at this faithful celebration.”

“They floated various ideas, but they discussed how they would like to do something that would be comfortable for Jewish people. They thought it would be a good idea to mark Shabbat,” the source said, adding that officials with the Faith Office “conveyed to us that this idea of helping ensure there will be something for the people of the Jewish faith came from the president.”

The White House did not respond to JI’s request for comment, though Freedom 250 CEO Keith Krach — the former DocuSign chairman and Ariba co-founder who served as undersecretary of state for economic growth, energy, and the environment in the first Trump administration — released a statement celebrating the news.

“This national observance is a moment to step away from the noise, reflect, and give thanks as we prepare to mark 250 years of American independence,” Krach said. “It honors the enduring contributions of Jewish Americans and offers a simple but powerful chance for people of all backgrounds to come together, unite in prayer, and remember the freedom that binds us as a nation.”

The announcement was also lauded by several Orthodox leaders. 

Rabbi Levi Shemtov, the executive vice president of American Friends of Lubavitch (Chabad), heralded the development, telling JI that the Trump White House has been especially accommodating to the Jewish community.

“This White House is one of the most openly and obviously religious White Houses in many years. I have noticed an unprecedented and extraordinary effort to ensure a particular comfort level for Jewish Americans,” Shemtov told JI. “I’ve been invited to the White House on many occasions in various administrations. I’ve been invited several times in this administration, and every time, when we review what I’m going to do, they say I should do what makes me religiously comfortable.”

“I’ve been asked several times to participate in events,” he continued of this administration, “I was told each time that I should pray the way which I feel comfortable and that it’s important to them that people of the Jewish faith feel comfortable practicing our faith in whatever way we want.”

Stephen Flatow, president of the Religious Zionists of America – Mizrachi, released a statement calling the inclusion of a national Shabbat in the proclamation “especially appropriate.”

“The president’s proclamation is a meaningful tribute to the Jewish role in the American story and to America’s historic promise of religious liberty,” Flatow said. “For generations, Jews in America have been blessed with the freedom to build synagogues, educate our children, observe Shabbat and contribute fully to the civic life of this great country.”

“As America prepares to mark 250 years of independence, the call for a national Shabbat of gratitude is especially appropriate,” he added. “Shabbat is not merely a day of rest. It is one of the great pillars of Jewish faith, family and continuity. America gave Jews the freedom to keep Shabbat; Shabbat gave Jews the strength to remain Jews.”

As the sun went down Friday night, Mississippi’s Jewish community packed the pews of Northminster Baptist Church in Jackson to welcome Shabbat. 

Aside from the unusual location, the weekend’s schedule was typical — Friday evening prayers to bring in Shabbat, followed by a meal and oneg; a bat mitzvah service on Saturday morning; Havdalah to conclude Shabbat and Sunday school classes the next day. 

But this week, each service was also an act of defiance.

For members of Beth Israel Congregation — the only synagogue in the state’s capital city — this was their first Shabbat since an arson attack heavily damaged their place of worship. The suspected arsonist, Stephen Spencer Pittman, 19, admitted to starting the blaze on Jan. 10 due to “the building’s Jewish ties,” and referred to the institution as the “synagogue of Satan,” a historically antisemitic phrase that has been re-popularized by far-right commentator Candace Owens. 

Located in a major hub of the Civil Rights Movement, Beth Israel was bombed in 1967 by the Ku Klux Klan over the rabbi’s support for racial equality — including providing chaplain services to activists incarcerated for challenging segregated bussing in the state. 

Two Torah scrolls were destroyed in last week’s fire, and five more were damaged. A Torah that survived the Holocaust, which was kept in a glass case, was unharmed. The congregation’s library and administrative office were also destroyed. Synagogue leaders estimate it will take two or three years to rebuild. 

But throughout Shabbat services, which were also attended by Jackson Mayor John Horhn and members of various local churches in a show of solidarity, “the feeling was not sadness, it was joy,” Zach Shemper, the congregation’s president, told Jewish Insider.

“The silver lining of all of this is Jews who weren’t members or necessarily active before are coming in and saying they want to be members,” said Shemper, adding that 140 families are currently members of Beth Israel, Mississippi’s largest synagogue. “Members who left over the years are saying, ‘We want to be part of the family again.’ So the intent of the [arsonist], everything he intended to happen, it’s the exact opposite. The people here in Jackson said not only ‘we don’t mind the Jews,’ but in fact they said, ‘We want you here, what can we do to accommodate?’” 

On Thursday, the city held an interfaith prayer event at the Thalia Mara Hall in downtown Jackson, an event that had already been planned as a community gathering but was dedicated to prayers for Beth Israel as a response to the fire. 

The offer from Northminster Baptist Church to host services indefinitely follows a long-standing relationship between the two houses of worship. In the 1960s while the church was being built, Beth Israel allowed them to hold services in the synagogue. “Here we are 60 years later, they are able to return the favor,” said Shemper, adding that “multiple churches have reached out and offered their worship space as our worship space.”  

Jewish communities near and far have also been quick to step in and offer assistance. B’nai Israel in Hattiesburg — a smaller Mississippi town about 90 miles away —  loaned two Torahs and 50 prayer books. A congregant drove to Memphis to pick up 100 more siddurim from another synagogue. 

“Really, that’s all we need,” said Shemper. But Jewish communities haven’t stopped there.

A synagogue in New Orleans sponsored the Friday night oneg and sent King Cake Challah. Several other congregations have created rebuilding funds.    

On Friday, UJA-Federation of New York announced a $100,000 grant to support recovery and rebuilding. Jackson does not have its own Jewish federation. 

“I came out here to be present and responsive on behalf of Jewish Federations of North America, to meet folks on the ground and coordinate resources, including immediate security needs and to support the work ahead so that this community can move forward and Jewish life can continue,” Sheila Katz, chief Jewish life officer of JFNA, told JI. 

“We covered the cost of some of the immediate security needs here. We’ll be physically and emotionally connected with this synagogue for a long time,” said Katz, who traveled from Washington to Mississippi.

“[One] of the most impactful things to witness is how excited the synagogue leadership has been about Jews not connected to Jackson who have wanted to be helpful,” she continued. “People have offered Torahs, prayer books, food, office space in Mississippi that they offered to give for free. There’s a powerful connectedness of the Jewish people. There’s a feeling of resiliency, being called to this moment that nobody wants to be called to. They understand that Jewish life is bigger than a building.”

“Jewish life in the south in a small town has always been resilient,” said Katz. 

Abram Orlansky, a 41-year-old lawyer who was born and raised in Jackson and grew up attending Beth Israel, where he remains a member and sends his kids to Hebrew school, echoed a sense of resilience that comes with growing up Jewish in the Bible Belt. 

Orlansky’s son was the last person to be bar mitzvahed in the now-damaged building, last May. 

“We are a smaller congregation than we used to be,” said Orlansky, noting that about 215 families belonged to the Reform congregation when his parents joined in the ‘80s. “[But] community-wide, I’m seeing resilience. Nothing could have energized Jewish life in Jackson more than this has.”

“The main takeaway for our community is that this fellow was trying to snuff out Judaism in Jackson and he has by far had the opposite impact. He wanted us to feel like the other, but the embrace we feel from the wider community speaks to how welcome we really are.” 

An American couple who were en route to Israel to celebrate their wedding but had their flight diverted. Two Israeli single mothers on holiday looking for a quick refresh, now stranded. A group of injured Israel Defense Forces soldiers on a healing retreat. 

These are some of the nearly 2,500 Jewish people that Rabbi Arie Zeev Raskin, the chief rabbi of Cyprus, and his wife, Shaindel, unexpectedly found themselves hosting for Shabbat last Friday after at least 32 flights from the United States and Europe were diverted to the island in the Mediterranean amid Israel’s preemptive military campaign against Iran, which was launched early Friday morning. 

“Everybody in the community gave a hand with cooking and preparing,” Raskin, who has run the local Chabad center in the port city of Larnaca since 2003, told Jewish Insider. 

Shabbat at Chabad “was amazing, a crazy experience,” said Tzvi Berg, a Jerusalem resident who was flying home from a wedding in New York on Thursday night when — just moments away from landing in Tel Aviv — his flight was rerouted to Larnaca.

“When the pilot made the announcement, everyone went online and saw Israel was attacking Iran and instead of being upset, everybody was clapping,” Berg said. 

But as Shabbat ended — with Israeli airspace still shuttered as Iranian missiles continued to strike in Tel Aviv and elsewhere — “the challenge began again,” Raskin said. Hotels on the island are overwhelmed. Tourists have exhausted their vacation funds. People with chronic illness can’t access medications. 

And they are knocking on Chabad’s door looking for food and accommodations, as many Jews do in moments of crisis around the world. 

“We have a few challenges at the moment,” Raskin said. 

“People have started to lose patience. Parents want to get back to their kids,” said Berg, who on Tuesday traveled some 30 miles to the island’s other Chabad, located in the resort town of Ayia Napa, where he barbecued for the injured IDF soldiers.

The couple whose wedding is scheduled for Thursday remains hopeful they can still get to Israel via boat. 

One of the single mothers who came to Cyprus on vacation has two children with special needs in southern Israel facing constant missile fire. “There’s a lot of tears and crying that she can’t get back to her kids,” Raskin said.  

Still, Raskin said that most of those stranded are making “lemonade out of lemons” during their time on the picturesque island — which is a popular tourist destination for Israelis due to its proximity. 

“The majority of the people here trust in God, so you see happy faces,” Raskin said. “They’re saying, ‘OK, we’re here on holiday, we have a place to stay and food, we’re happy.’” 

Cypriot police said on Sunday that security measures would be increased for Israeli tourists following concerns that Iran or its proxies could attempt to target them abroad. 

Israel’s Transportation Ministry announced on Monday it would launch Operation Safe Return to bring close to 150,000 Israelis stuck abroad back home. According to the Israeli airline El Al, 60,000 Israelis registered for rescue flights to return them to Israel within the first 90 minutes of the registration site going live on Monday. 

Israeli carriers El Al, Arkia and Israir announced on Tuesday that they received permission from the Israeli government to organize repatriation flights to bring back Israelis stranded abroad. The first two flights from Larnaca, Cyprus, landed at Ben Gurion Airport on Wednesday morning. 

“People are doing crazy stuff to get back,” Berg said, adding that while he looks forward to reuniting with his wife and children, who have been hunkered down in Jerusalem, the people in Cyprus “have been very hospitable and accommodating. They love Israelis.” 

“I was here [on holiday] in the summer once, but this is a different experience,” said Berg.

Some Israelis, including Aliyah and Integration Minister Ofir Sofer, who was stuck in Azerbaijan, which borders Iran, were able to return home over the weekend by flying to Greece and then to Cyprus, from which they took a boat to Israel. Others, including civilians, have charted private flights from Larnaca to Israel through Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt. 

But Raskin advises displaced Israelis who are safe in Europe to “stay where you are if you have good accommodations.”

“Don’t rush to Cyprus because it won’t get you to Israel any faster.” 

It’s Friday evening in Manhattan’s fashionable West Village. A couple dozen of New York’s elite — business executives, a television producer, a fashion designer, a journalist and a few politicos — pack a charming brownstone, a spot that’s been frequented by a range of influential people, from former U.S. Ambassador to Israel Tom Nides to reality TV personality Andy Cohen. Wine flows around a long candlelit table. A three-course meal and deep discussion follow late into the night. 

This isn’t dinner in one of the neighborhood’s Michelin-starred restaurants — although some weeks the waitlist here can be just as long. It’s Shabbat at Chabad West Village. 

There are more than 3,000 Chabad Houses around the world aimed at Jewish outreach, inspired by the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneerson. New York City alone is home to some 40 Chabad centers. Each Chabad caters to the characteristics of the community it serves.

But in the West Village — one of Manhattan’s most unlikely neighborhoods for the spread of Torah — synagogue-goers, a diverse group of mostly secular Jews, say something unique is happening at this Chabad in particular. The growing, vibrant community is a stark contrast with the shul just across the street, the Charles Street Synagogue that sits defunct. 

“When we moved here, we did not know one person,” Rabbi Berel Gurevitch, who launched Chabad West Village six years ago with his wife, Chana, told Jewish Insider. “Now our list consists of around 5,000 Jewish people,” said Gurevitch, who is in his early 30s but declines to disclose his exact age so as not to inhibit older members from connecting.  

The Gurevitches decamped from the comfort of Crown Heights, Brooklyn, where they both grew up, for the West Village, a neighborhood known for its trendy arts and nightlife scene. The synagogue initially ran out of a small apartment on Grove Street — with New Yorker staff writer Calvin Trillin, who still attends frequently — as its landlord. 

Now in a townhouse on Charles Street, where such real estate can run into the tens of millions of dollars, the center, which is also the personal home of the Gurevitches and their three children, has become synonymous with several innovative programs: letting attendees be “Rabbi for a Day”; a “TGIF” program where participants learn how to host Friday night dinners with their friends; explanatory “Shabbat Matinée” services for people who would otherwise be at brunch and are giving prayer a chance; and a speaker series called “Hineni: Here I Am,” which has featured Trillin, Nides, social psychologist Jonathan Haidt and comedian Alex Edelman. 

“[Rabbi Gurevitch’s] energy and drive was infectious instantaneously,” Marc Calcano, the West Village Chabad’s security director, told JI. “You can easily tell how everyone in the congregation lives based on this energy. It’s not just the synagogue where you go to worship, but it’s where you meet great people and there’s incredible conversation. After services no one ever wants to leave. This place is incredibly special. The lingering continues for hours.” 

Unlike some Chabad centers, which cater specifically to young professionals, families or senior citizens, the West Village Chabad has drawn a diverse crowd that spans different age groups and income levels. The community has recently celebrated several simchas and full-circle moments, where children and their parents pray together.

“It started for my kids. [The rabbi] brought in a real beehive to teach about [honey for] Rosh Hashanah and I just thought ‘what an amazing thing to encounter in the middle of the West Village,’” said Steeven Mallet, 42, who stumbled upon the Chabad four years ago while walking his dog and has sent his children to its preschool since. “Then we started going for Shabbos and events.” 

“My wife is Conservative, I’m Orthodox and there’s just a crowd of everyone,” said Mallet, who was born and raised in France and works in finance. “It’s a very tolerant community.” 

Marc Calcano, the West Village Chabad’s security director, was hired in the aftermath of the Oct. 7, 2023, terrorist attacks on Israel — as antisemitism skyrocketed around the U.S. and Jewish institutions remained on high alert. “[Rabbi Gurevitch’s] energy and drive was infectious instantaneously,” Calcano, a former NYPD officer, reflected. “You can easily tell how everyone in the congregation lives based on this energy. It’s not just the synagogue where you go to worship, but it’s where you meet great people and there’s incredible conversation. After services no one ever wants to leave. This place is incredibly special. The lingering continues for hours,” he told JI.   

In January, Calcano celebrated the bar mitzvah of his son, Carter, at the synagogue. Calcano — who is not Jewish but whose children have a Jewish mother — never expected that Carter, who has Down syndrome, would be able to lead a bar mitzvah service. But with the help of Gurevitch, he did it. “Every minute that I spend thinking about it is an emotional minute for me,” Calcano said.   

In April, a Grammy-nominated musician and a Trump White House staffer, who got married in 2022 after meeting at Chabad West Village, celebrated their second child’s bris at the synagogue.

Among the qualities that set the synagogue apart is its fast-growing demographic of singles and young professionals — at a time when polls from recent years show that synagogue attendance is declining for the majority of American Jewish young adults — especially those unmarried and without children. According to Gurevitch, every young professional event he’s held since Oct. 7 has sold out. Last month, the center hosted its first wine tasting Shabbat dinner geared towards those in their 20s and 30s. 

“I was extremely lonely when I first moved to New York,” Scarlett Tucker, a 30-year-old CPA who lives in the neighborhood, told JI. Tucker, who met her best friend after first attending a Shabbat dinner at the center in 2022, describes her Jewish upbringing in California as “eating lobster at the Passover Seder.” 

“I feel very close to Chana [Gurevitch] and I don’t have any family here so it’s been a warm place,” Tucker said. “For a long time, I didn’t really understand being Jewish.”

“I have not gotten more religious at all, I’ve just gotten more comfortable with it,” she continued. “The one thing that has changed for me, most significantly, is that it’s now very important to me that I marry someone Jewish.” 

“They have created, and allowed me to help build with them, a vibrant Jewish base for me and so many others in downtown New York City, where Jews from all walks of life can find an entry point into our tradition,” Neil Goldman, segment producer at the Late Show with Stephen Colbert, told JI. “They have established a beautiful Jewish community where none existed, have brought so many Jews in touch with their Jewish heritage for the first time, and are fulfilling the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s call to make our world a brighter, more spiritual place.” 

Ezra Feig, the 33-year-old founder of Nice Jewish Runners, a running club started in the aftermath of Oct. 7, told JI that his attendance at Chabad West Village for the past three years has felt “unique” due to “how they have managed to attract so many amazing people which has created a feeling where everyone is welcome and feels included.” 

Feig reflected that as he was going through El Al security on the way to Israel for Passover, he was asked what community he belonged to. When he said “Chabad West Village,” the security agent responded, “Oh I’ve heard what a great community that is. I’m going to come check it out.” 

Neil Goldman, segment producer at the Late Show with Stephen Colbert, told JI that he was drawn to Chabad West Village five years ago by the Gurevitches’ “soulfulness, their elegance, and of course their food.” 

“They have created, and allowed me to help build with them, a vibrant Jewish base for me and so many others in downtown New York City, where Jews from all walks of life can find an entry point into our tradition,” said Goldman, who is 39. “They have established a beautiful Jewish community where none existed, have brought so many Jews in touch with their Jewish heritage for the first time, and are fulfilling the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s call to make our world a brighter, more spiritual place.” 

Jonathan Harounoff, Israel’s international spokesperson to the United Nations, described a similar setting where “regulars are highly impressive and the food is incredible.”  

“What makes the place even more appealing, though, is its total lack of pretension,” Harounoff, 29, told JI. 

While congregants echo that the people — and food — are what make the synagogue special, the 5,000- square-foot, multistory West Village townhome is distinctive in itself — and holds a metaphor, according to Gurevitch. 

Etched into the walls of the sanctuary is a line from the Book of Genesis, “Behold, God was in this place and I didn’t know it.” 

“Our dreams are big,” Gurevitch said. “On a fundamental level, I would like to see a thriving Jewish community here. Until every Jewish person in this area has that connection and access, our job isn’t finished and we’re far from there. We’ve only scratched the surface.”

“I like people to have their own interpretations of it,” Gurevitch told JI. “But I think the most obvious one is that this Chabad, like an expression of life itself, is a place where you can find God in the most unexpected way. You’re walking down the street in the West Village and suddenly you walk inside and there’s 140 people praying. Wake up and realize that God is in here, you don’t have to travel the world or climb mountains or turn your life upside down to find God. I think this Chabad physically and spiritually represents that.” 

Amid hosting events and meals for a variety of movers and shakers, Chana stressed the importance of “striking a balance.”

“We hold on to that homey, warm, intimate feeling even though there are thousands of members and very well-attended events,” she said.

The Gurevitches’ vision for Jewish life in the West Village is only just beginning. “Our dreams are big,” the rabbi said. “On a fundamental level, I would like to see a thriving Jewish community here. Until every Jewish person in this area has that connection and access, our job isn’t finished and we’re far from there. We’ve only scratched the surface.”

“Five, 10 years from now,” he continued, “I would love to walk down the street on Shabbat and see kippahs, people walking with their tallits, moms pushing strollers, Jewish people living publicly and proudly and us being able to provide the support base and epicenter for all of them.” 

The sweet scent of maple syrup wafting through the air and the sound of pancakes sizzling on a griddle: For decades, that was the quintessential Shabbat morning in Keith and Aviva Siegel’s home on Kibbutz Kfar Aza in southern Israel. 

In that home, the couple’s four children — and eventually five grandchildren — would gather for family meals centered around pancakes — a recipe that originally belonged to Keith’s mother, a recipe that “brings back memories of special and happy family times,” he told Jewish Insider.   

Those meals were put on hold for 484 days. Keith and Aviva were both kidnapped from their home by Hamas during the Oct. 7, 2023, terrorist attacks. Aviva was released from Gaza one month later during a brief ceasefire in Israel’s war with the terrorist group. Keith was released on Feb. 1, 2025, in a U.S.-brokered deal. At 66, he was the oldest living American-Israeli hostage in Gaza. While held captive in tunnels 130 feet underground, Keith said he dreamed of eating his family’s pancakes several times a day. 

While Keith was in Gaza thinking of the pancakes, his daughter, Shir, posted on social media every Saturday morning about how much she missed her dad’s pancakes. Soon, Israelis were tagging her in their own pancake photos as a show of solidarity, and eventually, the Hostages and Missing Families Forum advocacy group published Keith’s now-famous recipe in a cookbook. 

On Friday, New Yorkers got a chance to taste the pancakes — cooked by Keith and Aviva — at a one-day pop-up pancake house hosted by 12 Chairs Cafe, an Israeli restaurant in downtown Manhattan. The event, which drew lines around the block, was a fundraiser hosted by the Hostages Forum to advocate for the 58 hostages that remain in Gaza (about a third of them are believed to be alive). The pay-what-you-wish event raised $14,660, according to the restaurant. About 1,200 people attended, including former hostages Doron Steinbrecher, also a resident of Kfar Aza, and Andrey Kozlov, who was abducted from the Nova music festival. 

In the kitchen of 12 Chairs as she was flipping pancakes, Aviva told JI she’s been making her mother-in-law’s recipe for a “long, long, long time.” She and Keith have been married for 44 years. 

“I’m feeling the support from everybody here,” Keith told JI over lunch. He recommends pancakes “with butter, real maple syrup, strawberries and blueberries,” although on Friday, he opted for 12 Chairs’ best-known dishes instead — a spread of Israeli salad, eggs, hummus and falafel and a side of challah with dips. 

The Siegels are visiting the U.S. as part of an effort to lobby Congress and the Trump administration to strike a deal to release the remaining hostages. Friday marked 587 days since the Oct. 7 attacks. “I’ve spent time in captivity with the hostages that are still in Gaza,” Keith told JI. “I am thinking about them everyday, worrying about them everyday, knowing what horrendous conditions they are held in. Their health and well-being is deteriorating over time and it’s urgent to bring them back home.” 

“I am eternally grateful to President [Donald] Trump for all that he has done,” he continued. “I was released in an agreement that President Trump’s efforts led to. I urge him to continue.” 

Keith also called for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and the Israeli government “to prioritize the release of the hostages and do what needs to be done to get them back.” 

But on Friday, the focus was pancakes not politics. “We’re bringing people together via the pancakes to raise awareness for the hostages,” Keith said. 

This story was updated on Sunday afternoon to include the amount of money raised at the event.