Schechter – Adjusting to War – March 2026

Adjusting to war is, tragically, nothing new for Schechter.

Already in 1967, the Schechter’s administration building in Jerusalem was damaged by shrapnel from a nearby Jordanian mortar explosion, according to research conducted by Dr. Yair Paz, an emeritus Senior Lecturer in Schechter’s Land of Israel and Jerusalem program.

Situated on the crest of a hill overlooking the Nayot neighborhood, adjacent to the Israel Museum, Schechter and its workers regularly hear – and even feel – the unmistakable booms of interceptors engaging Iranian missiles high in the sky, as well as the impact of their still dangerous remnants – striking the ground mere hundreds of meters or even dozens of kilometers away.

Since the beginning of March 2026, even as the ground trembles and sirens disrupt the rhythm of daily life, Schechter endures. The teams have flexibly reacted to the ongoing hostilities with Iran and the Hizballah in Lebanon by changing programs and activities to minimize risk to students, faculty and workers.  

With many Schechter employees work from their ‘home offices,’ meetings are primarily held via zoom or other services. Those who can come to work are highly attentive to what had been considered abnormal: alarms, sirens and window-shaking booms.

For some staff, simply coming to work offers a brief refuge from the relentless sirens in their home cities, especially in Tel Aviv.

“I live in Tel Aviv. On most nights, sleep is constantly interrupted and comes in short, fragmented stretches. Coming to work in Jerusalem feels like leaving the warzone behind,” notes Zohara H, a Schechter employee. She recounts that when a siren sounds on the intercity train to Jerusalem, passengers are instructed to lie flat on the floor, hands over their heads—an unsettling routine that has quickly become second nature.

Public data collected during the war underscores this reality: the number of incoming missile alert sirens in Jerusalem is roughly one-third of those in Tel Aviv.

Neve Schechter, located in Tel Aviv, and its workers and artists who live in the metropolitan area are extremely exhausted. “We had a very tough night,” is the oft-heard response to the question, How are you?

Neve Schechter, a meticulously renovated Templar building from the 19^th-Century, now includes an on-site bomb shelter. The shelter has been a haven for almost two weeks for Rabbi Roberto Arbib, the Masorti rabbi who leads the building’s synagogue, along with his family, and members of Neve Schechter’s operations staff – and their families – have turned it into their overnight home.

Neve Schechter from the outside. Image: Din Ahahroni Rolland

Daily life has been profoundly altered. Most of Neve’s public programming are postponed or moved online and the art gallery is only open during daylight hours. The synagogue continues to operate on shabbat – with attendance limited to the number of people that fit inside the shelter.

For both the Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies and the Schechter Rabbinical Seminary, the second semester has moved online.

In a letter to students, the administration wrote, “We are informing you that the semester will open as planned via distance learning on Zoom. We will continue this as necessary, in accordance with IDF Home Front Command’s instructions.” 

Yet, for many faculty members, access to the library and teaching materials in their offices still draws them to campus. There, they often try to maintain a sense of normalcy continuing to teach their courses. But reality, inevitably, intervenes.

Prof. Doron Bar of the Land of Israel Studies program was in the midst of teaching when sirens forced him to take refuge in Schechter’s bomb shelter. “I left my computer open in the office with my students online,” he said. “I know that many of my students are also finding safe spaces. I’ll continue once we receive notice that it is safe to resume.”

Schechter faculty and staff in the bomb shelter. image: Josh Shuman

The Rabbinical Seminary had planned a festive early-March siyum—the completion of the Talmudic tractate Hagiga. It was meant to be a full-day, off-campus celebration filled with learning, prayer, food, and joy.

The war, however, reshaped those plans entirely. Despite the constant pressure of sirens, the students persevered and completed the tractate, with each one presenting their portion. There was some food, but the celebration unfolded in a very different way: spread over two days and conducted in a hybrid format.

Schechter Rabbinical Seminary – hybrid learning during war with Iran. image: Josh Shuman

Those who could safely reach the Beit Midrash on campus did so. Most, however, participated from afar—gathered around screens in their homes or from within the confines of shelters. It was not the celebration that had been envisioned, but it was, in its own way, a powerful testament to resilience and commitment.

With the educational system closed and schools operating online, TALI’s programming has once again shifted to a virtual format—echoing the days of COVID-19.

Because TALI’s educational resources are already accessible online, the transition has been relatively seamless —“more frustrating than complicated,” as Dr. Peri Sinclair, the Susan and Scott Shay TALI Executive Director, notes. Still, she emphasizes her strong preference for live, in-person education and the energy it brings.

While a number of programs have been postponed, the majority continue, adapting to meet the needs of students and educators under challenging circumstances.

Finally, Schechter has become a haven for the neighborhood whose buildings were built without bomb shelters or safe rooms. Schechter’s bomb shelters are open to Nayot’s residents – pets and all. The campus classroom building – four floors, each with its own safe room – has become their refuge as the country has continued to face relentless missile attacks.

Nayot residents, with pet dog, entering Schechter building for safety. image: Josh Shuman

At night, many families settle in with mattresses and small tents, turning the safe rooms into temporary, yet cozy, sleeping quarters. One evening, a children’s movie was even shown in the first-floor auditorium.

Schechter is proud of the strong relationships we have formed with our neighbors and is honored to serve as a source of safety and reassurance in these difficult times.