Category: Jewish Identity & Inclusion

Yesterday, Jewish Federations of North America (JFNA) released new data about the growth of interest in Jewish life that sparked after the October 7 terror attacks. Jewish professionals refer to this phenomenon as “the surge” and responding to it remains a top priority for Jewish institutions, including Federation.

In the weeks and months following October 7, we did not know how it would affect Jewish engagement due to the rise of campus protests and global antisemitism. Would people feel closer to their Jewish identity or increasingly shy away from it?

What we saw, however, was that when it felt difficult to be Jewish—to face the pain of 10/7, to navigate differing perspectives on Israel, to open ourselves up to being seen as different—that Jews stepped in.

In 2024, 43% of the American Jewish community wanted or were seeking more engagement in Jewish life. Everyone from young adults to midlife and older adults, to parents of young kids were eager to learn more about Israel and Jewish life, and participate in Jewish programs. Those who were least engaged before 10/7, were particularly eager to find new venues for learning, and above all, connect with others in the Jewish community.

It’s unclear how long the surge will last. But thus far, it seems to be sustained. The latest survey results show that 38% of Jewish Americans are part of the surge, a seven-point increase from last spring and a hint at a new normal.

Evident in the data is a strong desire for social connection. To me, this reinforces the idea that in a topsy-turvy world, the search for belonging will increasingly shape how people live and the choices they make. One number I’m noting: of those who were not previously engaged in the Jewish community, 41% have attended events but are still trying to find the right fit.

As you can imagine, this has important implications for our work at Federation. To help people find what they seek, we must continue investing in diverse programming that gives everyone access to rich and meaningful Jewish experiences and helps them meet, connect, and learn with other people. Shabbat dinners, deep dives, meetups, family-friendly events, all of it matters.

Whatever responses we pursue, they must be part of a community-wide effort to notice when people show up and help them connect and stay connected. We all know what it feels like to take a chance on something, to be the new person in a room. Which means we also know what a difference it makes to chat with friendly people and feel shepherded into the group. That’s a role every one of us can play.

Statistics—and our own human intuition—prove that demand for belonging is up. Our work now is to provide the supply.

One way we can help meet this moment is by supporting the organizations that make Jewish life thrive. Yesterday was DAF Day, a national day of giving through donor advised funds. If you have a DAF, I hope you’ll consider recommending a grant to Federation. And if you don’t yet have one, I invite you to open a DAF and direct a $1,800 gift to an eligible Jewish or Israeli nonprofit of your choice through our Jewish Community Foundation’s Open More Possibilities initiative.

Being part of one people doesn’t mean we all have the same experience, the same politics, or the same response. It does mean we can make room for one another, protect one another, and show up for one another. Three years after October 7, Hen Mazzig speaks with us about the importance of community.

Three years after October 7, we are still trying to figure out how to talk about it. How do we talk about Israel when the conversation can so quickly become political? How do we talk about antisemitism when so many American Jews are encountering it in ways they never expected? How do we talk about Jewish identity when the past three years have changed what it means to feel visibly, publicly Jewish?

And perhaps most difficult of all: How do we talk to one another when we have lived through the same historical moment in such different ways?

Hen Mazzig has spent years having these conversations.

Across Israel, the United States, and Jewish communities around the world, he has listened to people try to make sense of October 7 and everything that has followed. He has heard anger and grief, fear and frustration. He has also heard something he didn’t necessarily expect to encounter so often: exhaustion.

“I hear how hard it is for a lot of people,” Mazzig says. “And that’s really sad.” Three years later, people are looking for a way to understand each other.

What We Misunderstand About Each Other

Part of the challenge, he believes, is that Israelis and diaspora Jews are often looking at one another through the lens of their own experiences.

For Israelis, October 7 was a profound trauma that changed the way many people see their own safety, their country, and the world around them. Mazzig sees that trauma in the defensiveness that can sometimes emerge in conversations about Israel.

But he also wants Israelis to understand what is happening outside of Israel. “American Jews are paying the price,” he points out.

The experience of an American Jew navigating antisemitism is different from that of an Israeli who has experienced October 7 and its aftermath firsthand. American Jews may be dealing with antisemitic incidents in their schools, workplaces, or communities. They may have lost friendships. They may feel increasingly uncertain about how openly to express their Jewish identity.

Meanwhile, Israelis are carrying the experience of a society profoundly shaken by violence and the ongoing consequences of that trauma. The experiences aren’t identical, and they don’t have to be identical for the grief on both sides to be real.

“I just think it’s different sorts of grief,” Mazzig observes, “but it’s grief, and it’s real grief on both parts.”

That, he believes, is something we need to make more room for. Being part of one people doesn’t mean having one experience. We don’t all live in the same place. We don’t have the same politics. We don’t respond to October 7 in the same way.

And we don’t always see what the other person is carrying.

The question, then, isn’t whose grief is more legitimate. It’s whether we can become curious enough about one another to recognize that both are real.

How We Talk to One Another

That curiosity becomes especially important when the conversation gets difficult. Mazzig shares that he is constantly asked for talking points. “I keep getting asked for talking points,” he says. “‘Give us some talking points. What do we say when people say this to us?’”

The question reveals something about where many people are right now. They want to be prepared. They want to have the right facts. They want to know exactly what to say before they enter a conversation they fear they might not be equipped to handle.

But his answer is, in some ways, to stop worrying so much about having the perfect thing to say. “Everyone is an expert in something,” he remarks. “Try and engage in a meaningful way. Remind people that you are a human being.”

You can speak from your own experience. You can listen to someone else’s. You can acknowledge something that is true even when it doesn’t fit neatly into your own worldview. “There’s so many truths to every issue,” Mazzig explains, “and we just need to be able to hold all of them.”

It’s what he describes as a “yes, and” approach. The understanding that recognizing one truth doesn’t require us to erase another.

Yes, this is what I believe, and someone else may experience it differently.

Yes, I can care deeply about Israel, and still have difficult questions.

Yes, I can be hurt by antisemitism, and still recognize that another Jew may be responding to that experience differently than I am.

That doesn’t make the conversation easier, but it can make it more human. He is equally clear about something else: engaging does not have to mean engaging all the time.

After three years of crisis, being part of the conversation does not require constant public engagement. There are moments when showing up means speaking. There are other moments when it means stepping back, protecting your energy, and taking care of yourself.

What Jewish Community Looks Like Now

Perhaps what has surprised Mazzig most over the past three years is not simply how difficult these conversations have become. It’s how tired people are. “To keep hearing it over and over and over again, you know, you’ve been in this work for a long time,” he reflects. “We’re three years past October 7, and yet it’s getting worse, not better.”

But alongside that exhaustion, he has seen something else. People showing up.

He has met “so many Jewish-adjacent” people who, while not Jewish themselves, have shown up for the Jewish community over the last three years. He has watched people build relationships across differences and step toward one another when it would have been easier to retreat.

And when Mazzig talks about what Jewish community means to him, his examples are remarkably ordinary. His husband’s family. People he’s met in Washington, D.C. His spin instructor. Israeli Jews. American Jews. Jews around the world.

The people who become part of your life in unexpected ways.

“What I love most about being Jewish,” he says, “is that no matter where I go, I feel like I have a family and I have a story.”

That may be one of the most tangible expressions of Jewish peoplehood: not that Jews everywhere have the same story, but that wherever you go, you can find people who are part of yours.

Mazzig believes the Jewish community has shown up in extraordinary ways over the past three years. When we’re down, he stresses, “we come and help one another.”

Three Years Later, We Can Still Choose Hope

Three years after October 7, there is no single answer for what Jewish peoplehood should look like. Maybe it doesn’t need one.

Being one people has never meant agreeing on everything. Maybe it has always meant something harder and more meaningful. Making room for one another even when our experiences don’t match. Protecting one another without requiring sameness. Showing up even when we’re tired.

And remembering that we have each other.

“This understanding that, you know, we have each other,” Mazzig notes. It is a simple idea. After three difficult years, it may also be one of the most important. Because the story isn’t finished.

He holds onto that through hope. “I hold on to hope, because that’s all we’ve got.” And then, with the certainty that hope requires: “I have to know that it’s going to get better.”

Not because everything is okay. Not because the grief has ended, the disagreements have been resolved, or the questions have easy answers. But because hope is a commitment to a future we cannot yet see.

And getting there, Mazzig reminds us, is something we don’t have to do alone.

Am Yisrael Chai.

Everything felt so completely new.

When I first landed in Greater Washington ten years ago, that was the only way I could describe it. It was my very first time ever setting foot in the United States, and on a purely physical level, my brain couldn’t process what was happening. I walked out of the airport in August into sweltering heat, looked up, and saw it rain. Coming from Israel, where summer is completely, predictably dry, standing in ninety-degree weather while water poured from the sky felt like stepping onto another planet.

I remember that first Shabbat so clearly. Fresh out of the IDF Education Corps, my uniform barely packed away, I walked into an entirely unfamiliar world of American synagogue life and vibrant liberal Judaism. Everything was culturally complex and utterly fascinating. I came with an educator’s fire, convinced my goal was simple: to evoke emotion around Israel. I was completely okay with anger or frustration, too, as long as there was a heartbeat. What took me by surprise back then was how deeply people wanted to speak Hebrew with me, stumbling over words with a genuine hunger that touched me then, and honestly still touches me today.

Ten years later, I walked off a plane and into this community once again. But the person writing this today feels worlds away from that wide-eyed young woman standing in the August rain.

Ten Years Can Change Everything

A decade carries immense weight. In those ten years, my life changed completely. I got married, became a mom to two incredible kids, and built a home back in Israel. Professionally, I stepped into global Jewish education, as the Educational Director and Manager for the Shlichut program worldwide. Returning now as both a mother and a seasoned professional, I see families, children, and a community I care about deeply through an entirely new lens.

And let’s be honest. The community itself is walking through a very different reality today than in 2016.

Between political polarization, rising antisemitism, and the heavy, lingering trauma of war, we have all been through the wringer. The warm, generous heart of Greater Washington is still here, but the air in the room feels different. Talking about Israel today often feels like handling a hot potato. It’s on everyone’s minds constantly, burning hot, but people are often anxious or hesitant to touch it. In a world dominated by quick soundbites and algorithms, we are constantly surrounded by sharp exclamation points and very few curious question marks.

Yet, wrestling with complexity is in our DNA as Jews. It’s who we are. And when the noise of the world tries to force us into rigid boxes, authentic, human connection becomes our sanctuary.

Living Bridges in a Fragmented World

Since October 7, that truth has hit me on a deeply personal level. Shlichut (emissary work) was never meant to be a lecture or a series of polished talking points. It is a living, breathing, two-way street. In the darkest days after the attack, I watched our emissaries across the globe stand as human bridges. They were carrying unbearable heartbreak, some grieving murdered friends, others waiting on agonizing news of hostage family members, one young woman who was supposed to be at the Nova music festival and had only flown out the day before. Yet, they showed up every single day to share their raw, vulnerable truths. In return, this community wrapped them in love, holding space for their broken hearts. That mutual embrace proved to me why we do this: news headlines don’t heal people, but real relationships do.

Stepping into leadership as the head of Greater Washington’s mishlachat (delegation) program, right as it hits its own 10-year milestone, feels like coming full circle in a way that gives me goosebumps. I keep returning to the cantor’s prayer from the High Holidays: Hineni he’ani mima’as (Here I stand, impoverished in deeds). It is that quiet, overwhelming feeling of asking yourself, Who am I to carry this weight? Yet, I step into it with immense devotion, reverence, and gratitude for the trust you’ve placed in me.

My goal for our team of shlichim is to unlock the door for real, honest conversation. My role is to be a problem solver and a catalyst, helping our partner organizations thrive, guiding our shlichim to succeed, and advancing Federation’s mission on the ground. I hope people leave our conversations feeling energized, knowing that whatever challenge or vision they bring to the table, we can tackle it together, not just in words, but through meaningful action.

Anchored in Hope

At my core, as an educator and a mother, I am stubborn about hope.

Hope isn’t a passive wish. Instead, it’s the active belief that a better tomorrow is worth fighting for. I see it in my children every morning, I see it in the Mishlachat delegation serving this community, and I see it in the way people here continue to show up for one another.

Ultimately, my hope is anchored in the conviction that October 7 does not define us. It is an immense tragedy, one that we must study, learn from, and forever remember, but the Jewish people, the State of Israel, and Zionism hold a history, memory, and purpose that existed long before us and will endure long after us.

We are defined by our enduring strength, our continuity, and the way our communities show up for one another, not by the catastrophes along the way. In that shared resilience, hope isn’t just an idea, it is a lived reality.

As our Mishlachat program marks its 10-year milestone, we are already looking ahead, envisioning what our presence will mean as we approach Israel’s 80th anniversary in two years, its 90th in a decade, and far into the future. We cannot predict every curve in the road, but we can decide how we walk it together.

My door is wide open. Let’s dream big, ask the hard questions, and build this next chapter together.

Your support helps ensure our community can continue building meaningful relationships with Israel through authentic experiences, personal connections, and lifelong learning.

This time last year, we were holding our breath as an agreement came together to free the last living hostages in Gaza. Over the course of two long years, our community in Greater Washington served as an epicenter of advocacy. People in official and unofficial capacities across our region met with delegations, built relationships, acted as hosts and liaisons, and did everything they could to keep the hostages top of mind so that a deal would be made.

This year, however, it is less clear how to channel our grief and passion. We are continuing to support long-term recovery efforts in Israel. But how do we greet this tender anniversary now that there is no immediate action to be taken?

It turns out that Rav Joseph Soloveitchik may have an answer. Recently, I read Kol Dodi Dofek (Listen, My Beloved Knocks), Soloveitchik’s famous 1956 theological address and saw how aptly his framework applies to our times.

Soloveitchik argues that the Jewish people must exist in two mindsets: encampment and congregation, “An encampment is created out of a desire for self-defense and thrives on fear. A congregation is fashioned out of longing for the realization of an exalted moral idea and thrives on love.”

In a world full of real threats, we need to think defensively, understanding that there are forces outside of our control shaping our reality. At the same time, we must move beyond the realm of fate into the realm of destiny, rising above our historical circumstances to pursue a larger moral idea on our own terms.

Navigating the tension between fear and love is the modern Jewish project. And I think the anniversary of October 7 can hold a piece of both. We can use the occasion to remember, grieve, and renew our vigilance, and channel the emotion of the day into building a future worthy of those we’ve lost.

I wish I could write solely in defense of the congregation side of things. That I could implore all of us to go ahead and trade in our fear for aspiration. But that’s not the reality we’re living in. We must continue finding the balance between self-protection and self-actualization. We must become adept at hunkering down and reaching outward, at flowing in and out of a dichotomy of postures according to what history and our moment demand.

Three years on, sitting with what happened on October 7 still makes me physically ill. I can only hope this dark fixture in the Jewish calendar becomes something we can use to strengthen our people and build this world from love.

Shabbat Shalom and may the memory of all the innocent lives lost on October 7, 2023, and the many days since be for a blessing,

Across the Greater Washington area, Jewish children are going back to school with stories of new friends, color wars, camp musicals and the little moments that made their summers memorable. For many Jewish children, sleepaway camp is a beloved part of growing up, a place to build friendships, discover new interests, celebrate Jewish life, and come back with stories that get retold for years.

But for children with complex pediatric health diagnoses, summer camp isn’t always a given.

Going away to camp can mean leaving behind familiar routines and the people who know how to care for them. Parents may wonder whether a new environment can accommodate their child’s health needs, whether staff will know how to respond to challenges, and whether their child will be able to participate fully in the experience.

imadi works to answer those questions before a child ever arrives.

A proud partner of The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington, imadi (“with me” in Hebrew) creates a network of support for families facing complex pediatric health diagnoses. Through concierge case management, patient advocacy, and therapeutic programming, imadi helps families navigate the medical, emotional, and logistical challenges that come with a complex diagnosis. All services are provided at no cost to families, thanks to support from organizations like Federation.

For some families, that support can open the door to experiences that once felt out of reach.

For Roey, it opened the door to Eagle Point, imadi’s Jewish summer camp.

Personal Support for Every Child

At eight years old, Roey had never been to sleepaway camp. Then one afternoon, the director of Eagle Point came to Roey’s home.

Sitting together in the living room, the camp director told him about all the fun adventures waiting for him at camp.

For his parents, Carrie and Greg, there were practical questions to work through and very real concerns about how he would manage a new environment, unfamiliar routines and activities designed for a wide range of campers.

imadi was there to help answer those questions. Before Roey ever arrived at Eagle Point, the organization worked with his family and the camp team to understand what he would need and build the support around him.

As his parents put it, “imadi met him where he was, and brought him along to maximize all of the fun at his pace.”

In addition to meeting with the camp director, they also met with the head counselor and nurse, talked through the challenges Roey might face and heard how the team would respond. They connected with other parents who had sent their children to camp before. For a family sending their child away for the first time, those details mattered.

Roey was also excited about the idea of hanging out with his “big buddy” (his one-on-one counselor). He had met them before camp at a “meet and greet,” where, his parents recalled, the two “ran around playing like they’d been buddies for years.”

“imadi really thought of everything,” Carrie and Greg added, making it easier for them to send Roey “out into the world to experience something we wouldn’t really think possible for him.”

The Summer Roey Became a Camper

Then the day finally came. Roey went to camp.

And he had a lot of fun! He rode in a boat, crafted his own mezuzah cover at a blacksmithing workshop, went on a safari, and took golf cart rides. “Oh the giggles,” his parents exclaimed. He sang songs at bedtime, celebrated Shabbat, and cheered on other campers.

While Roey was making memories, his parents were kept fully in the loop. “During camp we received joyful photos and regular communication so we knew what was going on each day,” they shared. “We feel so lucky to have been a part of Eagle Point.”

Reflecting on the experience, Roey’s parents said: “imadi’s program is astonishing. The one-on-one care, the attention to detail, the incredible imagination that went into having an accessible and manageable jam packed day full of incredible, unique programming experiences. Roey was cared for with such a level of kindness and thoughtfulness that I hope every kid can experience.”

Roey is one of 30 campers who joined Eagle Point this summer. With 40 counselors and staff, imadi ensured every child had the support they needed to experience camp fully.

Jewish Values in Action

The experience left an impression on the counselors, too.

“As a counselor you learn to dedicate yourself completely to another person,” said Navah Gris, an Eagle Point counselor. “You see in real time the impact you as an individual can have which can serve as inspiration way beyond camp.”

For Navah, that sense of connection extended to the Jewish experience at Eagle Point. “A huge pillar of Judaism is chesed (loving kindness) and for me personally doing this work as a camp counselor is when I feel most connected to my Judaism.”

One Friday night, Navah and another counselor stood outside with several campers and sang Kabbalat Shabbat together as they looked out over the lake.

“It was such a holy, joyous, and spiritual moment that we got to share with our campers,” she said. “It’s a moment I’ll never forget.”

By the time the ten days at camp were over, Roey had discovered that he could do something he had never done before. He came home more willing to try unfamiliar things and more independent in everyday activities. He also brought home his mezuzah cover, which he treasures.

And somewhere in those stories, he discovered a new sentence he could say about himself:

“I did this at camp.”

Federation is proud to support imadi and partners across our community creating opportunities for more people to experience Jewish life, connection and belonging. Your support helps make experiences like Roey’s possible.

Who are we responsible for and how do we best serve our community in this moment? These are key questions we are always asking ourselves at Federation but especially now as our world shifts.

However you describe this time we are living in, it’s clear to me that we are entering a new chapter of Jewish life. Whereas the last couple decades were about modernizing Jewish engagement, this new era must also focus on staying connected across lines of difference and working together toward a common future.

As I shared last week, I believe there are core values that have the power to bind us through any kind of tumult, namely the pursuit of justice and love for Jewish peoplehood. We may not always agree on the definition of each, but we can be in conversation about what they mean and what role they play in our lives.

In addition, I also believe there are first principles that must guide our work at Federation to strengthen Jewish life in Greater Washington.

The first is that we are here to serve all 400,000 people who live in Jewish households across the Greater Washington region. While we also have an important role to play beyond this, we do have a unique responsibility in this region for these people. We are committed to reaching people wherever they are in their Jewish journey, from the deeply engaged to those who have not yet found their connection. We are here for young adults, young families, seniors, and every other subset of our population. Our constituency spans the full breadth of the Jewish DMV.

This doesn’t mean that we don’t prioritize certain goals. Every organization must prioritize if they want to have an impact. We are proud of our work to ramp up engagement efforts in Northern Virginia and our partnerships with organizations serving young adults across the region, for example—but approaching our work with the knowledge that we are responsible for the entirety of our community is central to our theory of change.

The next principle is that we seek to create a community that expects and supports disagreement. There are boundaries to the Jewish people, but within those borders is a whole medley of individual and collective viewpoints that are constantly evolving. At Federation, we see how important it is to honor this. We want to see our community growing, learning, and building their ties to Jewish peoplehood and Israel. It follows then that we must make space for different views and experiences, so that we might stay in conversation and help each other forge and strengthen our Jewish connections over time.

The real work, however, is not in laying out these principles but abiding by their implications. How do we reach people who don’t know what’s on offer? How do we make decisions about where communal funds should go? How do we make room for people to grapple with questions about Israel or other elements of Jewish life even when it makes others uncomfortable?

None of these things have easy answers, but that’s what makes our work as a community so worthwhile. Our relationship with time is communal. We have always faced history together and have managed time and again to change it. As we stand together as a people on Yom Kippur, with all our great differences, asking for forgiveness, so must we stand together building our collective future.

Thirty years ago, my husband, David, and I hosted a party to celebrate our upcoming birthdays. The theme was the 70s, so we dressed up like hippies, brought in a live band, and filled the room with our closest friends (including several future Federation presidents like Robin Weinberg, Mark Levitt, Gary Berman, Liza Levy, and Stuart Kurlander). But as much as we loved celebrating, material gifts weren’t what mattered to us. In the middle of the music and dancing, we hit pause, took the microphone from the band, and talked to our friends about the importance of community and caring for something bigger than yourself. We told everyone: “We don’t want gifts. If you want to celebrate us, make a donation to our new fund.”

We called it the Hopes and Dreams Fund, designated to support informal Jewish education, summer camps, youth groups, and Israel experiences. It was our way of setting the pace for our lives early on, using a joyful milestone to lead with philanthropy and show our peers that you don’t have to wait to make a real impact. That mindset didn’t start with a large bank account or a fancy background. I didn’t grow up wealthy. But I distinctly remember going to synagogue as a child and seeing my parents’ names at the top of the campaign donor lists. They walked the walk. They taught me by doing.

So when my tax advisor sat us down in our 30s and suggested we open a Donor Advised Fund (DAF), I knew there was no place I’d rather establish it than within the Jewish community. I wanted my giving to count toward our collective Jewish reputation for generosity, and I wanted to be a role model for my peers.

I could never have imagined that that early decision would eventually lead to me co-chairing the Jewish Community Foundation of The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington’s Open More Possibilities initiative today.

Open More Possibilities

Looking back, what made all the difference for us was simply having the door opened and being invited in. The Foundation intrinsically understands that same need today—to create space for the next generation of donors to step into their own philanthropic power.

That is why this initiative is so close to my heart. To welcome 100 new fundholders into our Foundation family, the Foundation is making an $1,800 gift to an eligible Jewish or Israeli nonprofit of the donor’s choosing. It’s a true partnership, making it easier than ever for young donors and families to begin their own journey of giving. And once you begin, the impact ripples outward in ways you can’t even predict.

Passing the Torch

Everything you do sets the tone for the next generation. As people who care deeply about our community, we can’t leave those lessons to chance. We have to be intentional about creating a culture of generosity in our families.

Philanthropy is one of the most powerful ways we put our Jewish values into action. Our values tell us to care for one another, to strengthen our communities, and to take responsibility for the world we hope to build. Giving transforms those values from ideas into action. It offers the next generation a tangible way to understand that their Jewish identity is not just something they inherit. It is something they actively must carry forward.

When my son, Evan, reached a milestone birthday, we told him we’d match him dollar-for-dollar if he opened his own DAF. He did. Helping him enter his own philanthropic journey was one of my proudest moments as a mother. Now, as a grandmother, I’m already thinking about my grandchildren. I plan to open Donor Advised Funds for them through Open More Possibilities because I want philanthropy to become part of their story, too. My wish for them is to grow up seeing generosity as a lifelong expression of their Jewish identity.

Bringing Light to the World

There is also a powerful statement made when you give through a Jewish foundation. Over the years, I’ve had non-Jewish charities call to thank me for a grant and mention, “We saw the check came from the Jewish Community Foundation.” Raising that visibility, showing the world how Jewish givers support the broader community, is more vital now than ever.

Since October 7, saying the world has felt heavy is an understatement. But we don’t have to dwell in the dark. The simple act of giving gives us the strength to say: We will persevere. We will not just survive; we will thrive. Giving fills you from the inside out. It offers energy, hope, and purpose. For me, philanthropy is a spiritual experience. It bubbles up in my throat. The more I give, the more I receive.

Becoming one of the 100 new DAF holders opened through this campaign means taking a step as a leader. Deciding to take your hard-earned resources and invest them in the future shows the world, and your family, exactly who you are.

I once read a quote that said you make a living by what you get, but you make a life by what you give. Looking back over my life, I know that to be true in my bones. I can’t imagine a world where I didn’t want to leave things better than I found them.

Building the Future by Investing in Philanthropy

I know opening a Donor Advised Fund is an important decision that requires a meaningful commitment. That’s why Open More Possibilities matters so much to me. By making an additional $1,800 gift, the Foundation is recognizing the importance of that investment and taking the first step alongside every person who decides to open their first DAF. It’s a way of showing that our community is with you from the very beginning.

I hope these first 100 fundholders won’t be the end of the story. I hope they’ll become mentors, role models, and teachers. I hope they’ll inspire their children and someday their grandchildren to carry these values forward. That’s how we strengthen Jewish life, not only for today, but for generations to come.

I invite you to join us. Make an investment in philanthropy, in our community, and in the future we will build together. Let’s Open More Possibilities—for ourselves, for the next generation, and for the Jewish people.

This reflection was originally posted by Jewish Community Foundation of The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington.

There’s nothing quite like hearing others wrestle with questions that have been rolling around in my head. It’s a welcome reminder that we have so much to learn from one another if we keep our eyes and ears open. So it was with Danny Gordis’s latest podcast interview with Rabbi David Stav, a widely respected Israeli Orthodox rabbi and religious thinker.

The particular topic of discussion: what are the core Jewish values that Jews of all stripes would want to make central to their lives?

Rabbi Stav says yes. He ventures that there are two principles that we can all agree upon: first, we cannot allow immoral behavior to take place; and second, we are loyal to our family, community, nation, and people. While we may not always agree on the definition of each nor on the balance and tradeoffs that may exist between the two, we are committed to these core ideas and the need to constantly struggle with what they mean in our individual and collective lives.

I love this framework. My former boss said that Genesis 18:19 is the mission statement for the Jewish people, “For I have singled him (Abraham) out, that he may instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of God by doing what is just and right.” I cannot fathom Jewish identity without the drive to stand for what is right. But neither can I imagine Judaism without a commitment to kinship, that conviction that all of Israel are responsible for one another. Just as we care for our family and friends so do we as Jews for the greater Jewish people.

That’s where I see us playing an important role as a Federation. We want to be part of exploring and reconciling core Jewish values. We are committed to supporting our community in discussing, debating, and building the relationships it will take to grapple with our biggest questions and move forward together.

That’s why, if I were to add a third principle to Rabbi Stav’s list, it would be that we are humble enough to know our ideas might be wrong. Our views have and will continue to change over time, individually and collectively. What seems obvious to us today may appear more complex or even wrong to us in the future, and vice versa.

Pursuing both justice and peoplehood is therefore about staying in conversation. It is recognizing that through a commitment to these two core values, we can build a vibrant collective future locally and with Jews around the world. While different people will live out their Jewish values in different ways, I have faith in our communal venture, too. As we head into a new year, I am eager to see how we might articulate our beliefs for a new era of Jewish life.

P.S. I want to acknowledge that today marks the 25th anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks. We are holding the memory of all those we lost, and their loved ones, in our hearts.

The room was full of 300 Jewish leaders from different cities. Different careers. Different Jewish experiences. Different ideas about what comes next. And yet, as Cabinet members from Greater Washington looked around the room in Minneapolis, one thing kept becoming clear.

They weren’t as “different” as they might have imagined.

“We all have the same concerns,” said The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington Cabinet member Dana Klein. “It doesn’t matter which community we come from, what we do for work, if we have kids or not. We are all invested and concerned about the same issues facing our community. And that is very powerful.”

For three days in August, hundreds of Jewish leaders from across North America gathered for the Jewish Federations of North America National Young Leadership Cabinet Retreat, including a cohort of 20 members from Greater Washington.

They came to talk about philanthropy, security, Israel, and global Jewry. They heard from Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey and Rabbi Arianna Gordon of Temple Israel in West Bloomfield. They wrestled with how to talk across differences, how to serve their communities and how to become better leaders. But underneath all of it was a more personal question.

What does it mean to be a Jewish leader right now?

Turning Challenges into Leadership

Antisemitism is rising. Security has become something Jewish communities have to think about in their own neighborhoods. Families are making decisions about how visible they want to be. And more than one Cabinet member spoke about the feeling of watching everything unfold and wondering what, exactly, you are supposed to do about it.

Gabrielle Witkin put it plainly. “This is a hard moment to be Jewish,” she said. “And hard moments are exactly when leaders get made or lost.”

Gabrielle is a Jew by choice, and that choice comes with a responsibility she takes seriously. “I want a world where every Jew can live a safe, vibrant Jewish life. I want to leave this world better than I found it for my children.”

That desire to do something, rather than simply watch, is part of what brings people to Cabinet.

For Dana, Federation has made being an active part of the Jewish community a priority. “At a time when our community is constantly at risk, locally and abroad, giving back and making ourselves stronger has never been more important,” she said.

And there is a recognition that, as difficult as this moment is, Jewish communities have something powerful to draw on. Each other.

They attended the Retreat hoping to learn, enhance their leadership skills, and grow their network. That was one of the most meaningful parts of the Retreat for Britney Wambold, Cabinet Co-Chair, who sits on Federation’s Next Gen Board. She has met people through Cabinet from different cities, careers, Jewish backgrounds and phases of life. “Everyone is driven, cares deeply about making an impact, and shares a commitment to philanthropy and the Jewish community,” she said.

“I knew I would meet some nice people, but I was not expecting to make lifelong friends,” Dana added.

Britney knows that feeling well. “There is also something really special about knowing you have so many people in your corner,” she said. “Cabinet is full of people who genuinely want to see each other succeed and support one another throughout life.”

Alexa Brown, Cabinet Advisor, has watched that happen over four retreats. “What makes Cabinet different is how personal it is,” she said. “You walk away with some of your closest friends.”

At Cabinet Everyone Just Gets It

Three hundred people, and no one had to explain why they were there. That may have been the most powerful feeling in the room.

No one had to explain why security matters. Why Israel feels personal. Why the future of Jewish life is something worth worrying about. Why, even while building careers and raising families, they feel a responsibility to give their time, energy and resources to something bigger than themselves.

They didn’t have to explain why they were there because everyone else already understood. “It’s so easy to feel overwhelmed by everything happening in the world around us,” Alexa said. “Being with chevre (friends) reminds us we don’t ever need to face anything alone.”

For Gabrielle, that realization brought clarity. “I expected to feel small in that room. Instead I got clarity.” She came home with a better understanding of where she can make an impact, not everywhere, but somewhere meaningful. “I came home knowing where I can serve best rather than trying to serve everywhere.”

The Moment that Reframed Their Entire Perspective

One conversation in particular stayed with Gabrielle. Her caucus leader said something that reframed the way she was thinking about philanthropy:

“The only people giving to the Jewish community are the Jews.”

The idea, though simple, resonated deeply in a room full of people already asking themselves how much they should give, how much time they should devote, and how much responsibility they are willing to take on.

The conversation turned to giving beyond what feels comfortable. For Gabrielle, the discomfort was the point. Because leadership, she realized, isn’t necessarily about finding the comfortable thing you can do. Sometimes it is about deciding what you’re willing to sacrifice because you believe the community is worth it.

What Happens After the Cabinet Retreat?

The three days end, but the conversations, friendships, and questions don’t. If anything, they become more urgent, because eventually, every Jewish leader has to decide what kind of role they want to play in the future they’re helping create.

What kind of Jewish community do we want to leave for the people coming after us?

For Gabrielle, that question is at the heart of Cabinet.

“The next generation of leaders will not be produced by accident,” she emphasized. “We need to be gathered, trained, challenged, and connected to peers who are carrying the same weight. That is what builds the bench our community will need in ten and twenty years.”

And that work cannot wait.

“It matters that we are doing it now, in our thirties and forties, while we are raising the generation after us,” she said. “Our kids are watching how we respond to this moment.”

To join us in building that future or to learn more about Cabinet, please reach out to Jeremy Frisch, Federation’s Philanthropy Officer, Donor Engagement.

There are certain tastes that make it feel like Rosh Hashanah.

An apple dipped in honey. The jewel-like seeds of a pomegranate. A round challah, golden and sometimes studded with raisins. Glazed sweet potatoes. A melt-in-your mouth holiday roast or brisket. And the simanim, the symbolic foods placed on the table with hopes and blessings for a sweet, abundant year ahead.

A Rosh Hashanah table brings magic to Jewish families. Candles flickering. Familiar recipes making their annual appearance. Plates being passed around. Full bellies, full hearts, and the simple joy of being surrounded by loved ones.

This Friday night, community members across Greater Washington will gather around their tables to welcome the Jewish New Year.

For families who keep kosher, especially larger households, preparing that table can mean buying significant quantities of kosher meat, produce and holiday staples, and the costs can add up quickly. For families already feeling financial pressure, the High Holidays can bring an added burden at a time that is meant to be filled with joy.

That’s where Yad Yehuda, a partner of The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington, comes in.

How Yad Yehuda is Bringing Joy this High Holiday Season

Thousands of individuals across the Greater Washington Jewish community rely on Capital Kosher Pantry, the region’s only kosher food pantry, for support provided in an atmosphere of dignity and respect. A program of Yad Yehuda, the pantry provides fresh produce, proteins, shelf-stable groceries and personal care items, restocked weekly.

But Rosh Hashanah requires something more. “We want people to be able to celebrate the holidays without worrying about how they’re going to afford them,” says Stephanie Savir, Director of Operations at Yad Yehuda.

In the days leading up to the holiday, Yad Yehuda mobilizes its entire network to make that possible. Kosher food providers, dozens of volunteers, companies, synagogues, other food pantries and community partners come together to help fill the pantry’s shelves and freezers.

Packing for a Sweet New Year with the Capital Kosher Pantry

Community members have spent the week working side by side volunteering to unload deliveries, sort enormous quantities of food, pack Rosh Hashanah boxes and prepare them for distribution.

Thanks to support from Federation, pallets of fresh produce have arrived by the thousands of pounds. Cold storage has been filled with roasts and chicken. More deliveries continue to arrive as the holiday approaches.

It takes an entire community to prepare for a holiday at this scale. And this is exactly the kind of work that happens when Federation’s partnership with a local organization extends into active community engagement.

Yad Yehuda expects this year’s Rosh Hashanah distribution to reach approximately 1,600 to 1,800 individuals.

The Capital Kosher Pantry has grown considerably since its beginnings as a small food closet. Today, the organization operates a dedicated facility with multiple refrigeration units, a 20-foot freezer container, pantry, and other services designed to meet the needs of the community. During the year, it runs much like a small grocery store, where patrons can confidentially schedule appointments and select foods for their households.

A Community that Brings Light to Everyone

Supporting a thriving Jewish community in Greater Washington means making sure people can participate fully in Jewish life in ways that reflect who they are. For families who keep kosher, that means having access to kosher food.

For those celebrating Rosh Hashanah, it means having the ingredients to prepare the foods that carry generations of meaning.

And for all of us, it means making sure that financial circumstances do not determine who gets to experience the joy and traditions of the Jewish holidays.

That is why Federation is proud to support Yad Yehuda. By strengthening the organizations that understand the distinct needs of our community and are there to meet them, Federation ensures we are not only present in moments of crisis, but in the ordinary, deeply meaningful moments that make up Jewish life.

This is what it means to make room for everyone at the table. Together, we can make sure that, regardless of circumstance, anyone in our community can celebrate, participate, and create their own Rosh Hashanah memories.

Learn more about Yad Yehuda’s food pantry here.