Although Judaism was buried for decades, Albania was a Holocaust haven: They refused to turn over a single Jew

When we were invited to do a bris in Albania, it was more than an eighth-day ritual — it was a first in decades, as the Communist regime had banned all religious practices over 70 years ago, essentially wiping out every vestige of Judaism. But it was also a paying back of dues — because although Judaism was buried for decades, Albania was a Holocaust haven: They refused to turn over a single Jew

While we hadn’t been doing much traveling since the onset of Covid, we couldn’t resist the offer to fly to Albania to do a bris, likely the first one in the country in at least 70 years. Albania, a small Balkan country with a long coastline on the Adriatic Sea, suffered under an extreme totalitarian form of Communism for nearly half a century, when all religions and religious practices were banned. And although there are only a few dozen Jews in the country, we were feted by locals who were acutely aware and proud that their families and friends had saved the entire Jewish community plus hundreds of refugees during World War II. For us, and for the few remaining Jews, the unlikely bris was a sign of renewal.

The happy father who brought us all the way to Albania is a fellow named Baruch, whom Ari G. befriended around 20 years ago when Baruch was a high school student. The two began to learn together, stayed in touch over the years, and eventually Baruch picked up and moved to Albania for business opportunities. When Baruch called Ari with the good news of a baby boy and an invitation to do the bris, we couldn’t refuse.

We were in touch with Rabbi Yoel Kaplan, the dynamic Chabad shaliach, and arranged to be with him for Shabbos. About two decades ago, Rabbi Kaplan came to Salonika in neighboring Greece as the Chabad emissary, and seeing that nearby Albania and Montenegro had no organized Jewish community or shul, made it his business about 12 years ago to establish them. (His wife and children live in Eretz Yisrael, while he travels regularly, having his brother Rabbi Yosef Kaplan manage the Chabad center in Salonika.)

The few remaining members of the Albanian Jewish community number under 50, are either intermarried or not halachically Jewish, and the tiny community associated with Chabad, which includes some locals, Israeli businessmen, and other assorted folks such as an adventurous, young frum New Yorker, doesn’t always have a minyan for Shabbos. The Shabbos we were there, we joined with Baruch and his local family and some relatives from Israel — and so it was with a sense of history and destiny that we found ourselves with a small group of Jews having the very first minyan in the new Chabad shul and celebrating the first bris in so many decades.