Category: Jewish Identity & Inclusion

Last week, I went to Bethany Beach with my family. For 30 years, we’ve held this tradition sacred, gathering the parents, kids, cousins, nieces, nephews, and significant others together for some memorable quality time. This year was especially meaningful as we had four generations together under one roof. What a gift it was lounging together with my dad and my grandson.

I like to think that familial ties are a central part of what animates our community as well. That Jewish peoplehood acts as a special source of gravity, drawing and holding people close by virtue of their Jewish identity. This is something that has held us together for thousands of years, through great struggles and great successes, and it’s something we want to continue nurturing across Jewish Greater Washington.

But I also know that a community is built on more than association. While family is enough to bond our crew at Bethany Beach, our community rests on several building blocks including faith, tradition, memory, language, experiences, aspirations, and mutual responsibility.

Importantly, the bonds of peoplehood free us from having to reach consensus. It enables and supports our diverse opinions and our individual evolving relationships to Judaism and Jewish life and adds to our collective vitality. At Federation, we work every day to proliferate Jewish learning and pride and build paths for people seeking to connect with others and with Jewish wisdom. We want to ensure that everyone can tap into the transformative sense of belonging that comes from being part of a diverse Jewish people.

But honoring our differences is only step one. Step two is working with and across our differences to shape the Jewish future. This is no easy feat at a time when convictions run deep. How do we articulate our values while leaving room for a broad range of Jewish expression? How do we stand for something in a topsy-turvy world while strengthening our ties?

Some days, I wake up ready to draw definitive lines in the sand and on other days, all I want to do is protect our ability to stay in conversation with one another. I’m convinced that finding the balance between conviction and peoplehood, fluidity and delineation, will be the work of our time.

I know many of you feel this tension too. We care about what is happening in our communities, our country, and the world, and sometimes that means we find each other on opposite sides of an issue. How we manage our response in these scenarios will have a profound impact on where we go from here.

So long as we remember our commitment to each other, our vast array of opinions and perspectives can only be a strength.

As an Israeli currently living in the United States, I spend a lot of time thinking about the space between Israel and American Jewish communities. It is a space I came as a Shlicha (Israeli emissary) to help bridge. But right now, that bridge can feel complicated and ever widening.

For many, Israel has become a topic that comes with strong feelings, important questions, and a desire to better understand. After years of war, loss, political upheaval, and uncertainty, people are asking questions about what is happening in Israel, how Israelis are experiencing this moment, and what October 7 has changed. Some are thinking more deeply about the decisions being made by Israel’s leaders, while others are trying to navigate what it means to love Israel while also holding questions or concerns.

And sometimes, people simply don’t know who they can ask.

That is what made a recent conversation at Washington Hebrew Congregation feel so important.

An Invitation to Ask Anything

The idea started with coffee. I sat down with the Rabbi and the leader of the young professionals group at Washington Hebrew Congregation, and we talked about something they were hearing more and more from young adults. They wanted a real conversation about Israel. Not another presentation telling them what to think.

So on August 1, I joined the 2239 young adult group for an “Ask Me Anything” gathering about Israel. We brought bagels (because, let’s be honest, no Jewish gathering is complete without them) and sat around a table.

There were hard questions. Different opinions. Questions I didn’t always have a perfect answer for. And that was the point. I wasn’t there simply to answer questions as an Israeli. I wanted to hear their perspectives, too.

What does Israel mean to you?

What has changed in the way you think about Israel?

What questions have you been afraid to ask?

What does it feel like to be a young American Jew trying to make sense of Israel right now?

The conversation moved in both directions. We talked about Israel, but we also talked about the American Jewish experience. We talked about the distance between what Israelis experience and what American Jews see and hear from thousands of miles away.

And slowly, something happened. The conversation became less about finding the “right” answer and more about understanding one another.

One participant told me, “Dialogue makes me feel less alone in my experience.”

Another said, “I was surprised to learn that Israelis genuinely thought that October 7 was going to be the end of Israel. I am thankful to Hila for acknowledging based on her experience as a Shlicha that it’s not useful to disregard American Jews when it comes to Israel, because what happens in Israeli politics affects the Diaspora.”

And perhaps my favorite thing I heard was: “I have more questions than answers, but I’m more hopeful about the future.”

The Power of Talking to an Israeli

I had just returned from a trip home to Israel when we gathered that Shabbat. My trip made me reflect on the distance between these two communities in a new way.

In Israel, the war and its consequences are part of everyday life. Here, American Jews are experiencing Israel through their own communities, relationships, values, questions and concerns.

We need spaces where these two different experiences can meet. That is what I believe the role of a Shlicha (Federation’s Israeli emissary program) can be at its best. A Shlicha can bring something that is difficult to get from a headline, a social media post or a political debate. Someone who can say, “This is what I experienced in Israel.” And then listen when someone here says, “This is what Israel feels like to me.”

That exchange matters. The relationship between Israel and American Jewry isn’t guaranteed by geography, history, or even shared identity. It has to be built. And especially in these complicated years, it is worth building.

There is a temptation, when a subject feels as emotionally charged as Israel does right now, to avoid the conversation altogether. But silence doesn’t make the questions disappear. If anything, it makes the distance between us greater.

Creating More Places to Connect

This is where The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington plays such an important role. Through the Shlichim program, Federation creates opportunities for Israelis and American Jews to build relationships that go beyond a single event or a single conversation. And those connections can look different everywhere. We might join a young adult group for an “Ask Me Anything” over bagels. We might speak with teens, visit a classroom, work with a religious school, join an Israel committee or help a synagogue explore Israeli culture and society.

As a new year of programming begins, I hope more schools, synagogues, youth groups, religious schools, Israel committees and community organizations will consider inviting a Shlicha into the conversation. Because right now, when Israel can feel like one of the hardest things to talk about, we need more spaces where we can talk honestly, listen deeply, and stay connected. If you or your organization is interested, you can see our programming offerings here.

I left that gathering reminded of how little it can take to begin something meaningful. A room. Some bagels. An open heart. And a willingness to ask one another, “What do you really think?”.

The Summer I Connected with My Jewish Identity

When I look back at the arc of my life, I can trace the trajectory directly to a single summer when I was 17 years old.

Growing up in a Reform Jewish home in New Jersey, we celebrated a few holidays, I went to Sunday School, and I participated in my youth group, but being Jewish was not the engine driving my daily world. That shifted the summer I boarded a plane to Israel on a North American Federation for Temple Youth (NFTY) trip for six weeks, made possible by my Rabbi who helped me secure a scholarship from Jewish Federation of Greater MetroWest NJ.

I still remember the feeling of stepping off that flight into the Mediterranean heat. Out of nowhere, that classic teenage sense of independence collided with something vastly bigger than myself. A sudden, overwhelming realization that I belonged to a global family. I wasn’t just a teenager on summer vacation. I was part of a living history.

That single journey completely altered my path. It sparked a lifelong love for Israel and Zionism, inspired me to eventually buy a second home there, and set the entire course of my professional life in Jewish community work.

None of that happened by accident. Years before I stepped onto that plane, people I would never meet decided to invest in the Jewish future. They made sure a scholarship existed for a 17-year-old girl from New Jersey who didn’t even realize how much she needed it yet.

The Seeds Planted on Desert Soil

That summer shaped everything that followed. Fresh out of school, I took my first professional job at the United Jewish Appeal (UJA) in New York City (where one of my sons is currently working), launching my career in fundraising. Later, from 1988 to 1990, I worked right here as the Missions Coordinator for The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington. Having experienced the magic of an Israel trip firsthand, helping others embark on those same eye-opening journeys felt deeply full-circle.

Over the years, whether serving on the national Board of Directors for AIPAC or maintaining a home in Israel, my connection to our people has remained the heartbeat of my life.

Paying it Forward

What keeps me involved with The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington today is twofold: the remarkable dedication of the staff who steward this work every day, and a fundamental desire to pay my origin story forward. Because I was the beneficiary of a scholarship that changed my life, I want to make sure the next generation has those same opportunities to discover and deepen their Jewish identity.

When most people hear the word legacy, they think about looking backward, a summary of a life already lived. But as a mother, that’s not how I see it at all.

For me, legacy is entirely about what comes next.

It’s the same instinct that kicks in when we think about our children’s futures. We save, we plan, and we do everything in our power to ensure that when they step out into the world, the safety nets, opportunities, and communities they need will be waiting for them. We have an opportunity to make our own legacy—and for who better than our children?

Leaving a gift to the Jewish community in my estate plans is simply an extension of that same maternal care. Just as I think about my own children’s future, I feel a responsibility to invest in the community they will inherit years from now.

Join Us

Today, you can make that same lasting impact on our community by creating a Jewish legacy. August is National Make-A-Will Month, a timely reminder that taking a few moments to outline your wishes is a powerful way to protect what you love most and secure our shared future.

When I think about the adversity the Jewish people continue to face, I recognize the strength, persistence and fortitude that all comes from being in a community. Federation plays a significant role in helping sustain and strengthen our community.

By leaving a legacy gift with Federation, you can spark a young person’s journey, inspire a lifetime of Jewish commitment, and ensure that when the next 17-year-old gets on a plane to Israel, feeling invincible and curious, a vibrant, welcoming community is right there waiting for them when they return.

To learn more and receive guidance on leaving a legacy gift, visit shalomdc.org/legacy or contact Natalia Straus, Senior Director of Major and Legacy Giving.

The first time Danielle Frum entered a mikvah (ritual bath), she wasn’t alone. In her arms was her newborn daughter, Miranda. It was 1991, and as mother and daughter immersed together, it symbolized the beginning of Miranda’s Jewish life and the moment Danielle formally became Jewish herself.

After she and David Frum married in 1988, the two spent their weekends wandering Manhattan, slipping into historic synagogues throughout the city simply to experience the different services. Raised Anglican/Episcopalian, Danielle had never been especially religious, but took a strong interest in Judaism shortly after their marriage.

Choosing Judaism

“I was drawn to Judaism because of its focus on this life,” she says. “Its emphasis on living an ethical, kind, and communal life regardless of whether it led to some sort of heaven or afterlife very much appealed to me.”

When Miranda was born, both David and Danielle decided to build a Jewish home and raise Jewish children. In the years that followed her conversion to Judaism, they welcomed two more children. Nathaniel, now 32, and Beatrice, now 24.

Lessons in Generosity

For David, Jewish values had shaped his childhood. His father’s family had little money, but every Passover his grandmother cooked more food than her own family could eat. The extra meals were carefully packed and delivered to neighbors who needed them. Clothes and blankets were boxed up and shipped to Jewish communities she would never meet.

His mother’s parents, meanwhile, devoted themselves to nearly every communal institution in their small city, the synagogue, the library, the burial society, and local charities. “If you arrive in a new place,” they taught him, “find the local charities, Jewish and non-Jewish, and give whatever you can.”

Years later, that same instinct led David and Danielle to the Jewish Federation of Greater Washington, where they have faithfully supported the community for more than two decades.

A Love for Israel

At 22, Miranda moved to Tel Aviv. She was dazzled by Israel’s youthful energy, creativity, and sense of possibility. She spent three years building a life there before eventually returning home, carrying with her a lasting love for the country.

Watching Miranda discover Israel inspired Danielle in return. She created a website celebrating Israeli culture through its artisans, food, and everyday life, hoping to share a side of the country that people didn’t always see.

Carried by Community

Throughout their lives together, Jewish ritual marked moments of joy, holidays, the birth of their children. They never imagined that those same traditions would one day carry them through unimaginable loss.

In February 2024, Miranda passed away suddenly at the young age of 32. In those first unbearable weeks, grief made even the smallest decisions feel impossible. “As we staggered through those days after Miranda died,” Danielle says, “these rituals told us what to do when we felt we couldn’t act.”

From the careful dignity with which Miranda’s body was prepared, to the funeral, shiva (mourning period), and burial, every step was guided by customs that had comforted grieving families for generations. Later came the unveiling of her headstone. Each year, there is the ritual of lighting a yahrzeit (memorial) candle.

“I’m very grateful to be part of the Jewish community,” Danielle says.

Their grief unfolded against another season of heartbreak for the Jewish people. Only months earlier, Hamas’ October 7 attack had devastated Israel. Miranda had lived the kind of life that made those events feel deeply personal. She loved music festivals like Nova, the outdoor festival that was attacked on that fateful day. Friends she had known during her years in Tel Aviv were called into military service. Some never returned.

The Legacy We Leave

To honor Miranda’s memory, David and Danielle gave to causes supporting Israel during one of its darkest moments.

“When we mourn,” David reflects, “we truly discover what it means to be one Jewish people. I know my living children will carry that awareness with them through their lives, and bequeath that awareness to children of their own.”

Today, David and Danielle are among the newest members of Federation’s Roots Society, which recognizes more than 20 years of support.

Looking back, their philanthropy has always been an expression of the values that have guided them from the very beginning: caring for others, strengthening Jewish community, and ensuring that no one has to face life’s greatest joys or deepest sorrows alone.

The values that first drew Danielle to Judaism. The lessons David learned at his grandparents’ table. The traditions that carried them through the unimaginable loss of their daughter. Together, they tell one story of a family rooted in community, sustained by faith, and committed to helping future generations find that same sense of belonging.

For readers who wish to learn more about Miranda and the family’s journey through grief, Danielle shares their story in her memoir, Dispatches from Grief: A Mother’s Journey Through the Unthinkable.

Interested in learning more about Federation’s Roots Society? Reach out to Natalia Straus, Federation’s Senior Director of Legacy Giving.

Tu B’Av is a time to celebrate love, connection, and the bonds that bring us together. This year, we’re highlighting a Jewish love story from our Federation community—showcasing the ways Judaism continues to shape the lives we build together.

Looking for Community

When Vanessa Sax moved to DC after college, she wasn’t looking for love. She was looking for community.

After settling into her first apartment on her own, she sought out ways to connect with Jewish life in her new city. So, she found and signed up for a DCJCC softball team.

It turned out Vanessa wasn’t the only newcomer.

Among the returning teammates was just one other new player: the man who would later become her husband.

One ‘Shalom’ Changed Everything

Like many great love stories, Vanessa and Kasey’s story didn’t begin with a grand romantic gesture. It began over post-game happy hours, where teammates gathered after each softball game.

During one of those happy hours, the two found themselves deep in conversation about Otter Pops (Freeze Ice if you’re on the east coast) and $1 beers and $2 grilled cheese sandwiches at a bar in Adams Morgan. “We spent the rest of the happy hour talking about many, many different topics,” she recalls.

As he walked her back to her car, a passing cab driver rolled down his window and enthusiastically shouted, “SHALOM!”. The unexpected greeting gave her exactly the opening she needed. Vanessa sent Kasey an email that simply began, “Shalom!” and invited him out to hunt for Otter Pops and for more $1 beers and $2 grilled cheese.

“He claims he was going to ask me out,” she laughs, “but I beat him to it!”.

Twenty-two years later, she says the story proves what they’ve both known all along: she’s the risk-taker in the relationship. That willingness to take chances led to a partnership built on curiosity, encouragement, and a shared commitment to growing together.

Vanessa admires Kasey’s endless desire to learn. Whether he’s mastering a new recipe, tackling a home repair, or teaching himself how to make Rummikub tiles by hand (mahjong tiles are next, she says), he approaches each new challenge with creativity and enthusiasm. “He loves learning and trying new things”.

Building a Jewish Home

That same spirit has shaped the Jewish life they’ve built together.

Today, celebrating Jewish holidays and passing along Jewish traditions to their daughters are at the heart of their family. Like many families, their extended relatives observe Judaism in different ways. Yet together, they have created traditions that belong uniquely to their own household while remaining deeply connected to generations that came before them.

A Chuppah Stitched with Love

One of those traditions quite literally surrounded them on their wedding day.

Instead of purchasing a chuppah, they created one together with the people they loved. Family members and friends each designed a fabric square, while her mother-in-law and sister-in-law lovingly stitched them together into the canopy beneath which they were married.

The chuppah still hangs in their home today.

“I would love for our girls to get married under it if that is their path in the future,” she says.

For Vanessa, sharing a Jewish life with her husband is about more than celebrating holidays or observing traditions. It is about sharing a history, a language of experiences, and a sense of belonging that continues to grow as their family grows.

She grew up in New York. He grew up in Los Angeles. Together, they built a life in DC. Although they came from opposite sides of the country, they quickly discovered that the Jewish community has a way of making the world feel smaller.

Finding Purpose Through Community

Years later, that same sense of belonging inspired Vanessa to make Jewish community-building her career. After working in commercial real estate, she took a leap of faith into Jewish communal life, deciding to join The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington—a move Kasey supported wholeheartedly.

Today, she serves as Federation’s Senior Director for Strategy and Community Building in Northern Virginia, helping others find the same sense of connection that first brought her to a softball field all those years ago. Learn more about Federation’s work in NoVA.

Weaving the Next Generation

“Jewish geography is a wonderful tapestry to be a part of,” she says.

It’s a tapestry she hopes her daughters will continue weaving as they build lives of their own: carrying with them the traditions, relationships, and sense of belonging that began with one decision to join a Jewish softball team.

This Tu B’Av, we celebrate not only the moments that bring people together, but the Jewish communities that help those moments become lifelong stories. Sometimes, finding your place in the Jewish community can lead to finding the person with whom you’ll build a Jewish future. And sometimes, it inspires a career dedicated to helping others find that sense of belonging, too.

A summer away from home. A dining hall full of noise. A Shabbat filled with song and dance. A friendship that started in a bunk and is still going strong twenty years later.

Ask an American Jew what first made them feel “Jewish,” and there’s a decent chance the answer involves summer camp.

Jewish overnight camp is one of the key ways that Judaism becomes an immersive way of life. For families in the DMV, Capital Camps has been that introduction for nearly four decades.

What actually happens at Capital Camps?

The short answer: a lot.

Located in the Catoctin Mountains of Pennsylvania, just 75 miles from DC, Capital Camps is the premier Jewish community overnight camp in the region. A core partner of The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington, each summer, more than 900 campers and 180 staff come together across multiple village programs. Programming spans waterfront activities, a ropes course, theater & arts through the Habima program, a working farm, and Jewish life experiences that run through the entire summer. A 700-person dining hall serves kosher meals (meat, dairy, and pareve kitchens, if you were wondering), and staff provide daily opportunities for campers to connect with Jewish text, tradition, and community.

First-time campers enter through the Yalla program, a specially designed experience for children navigating camp for the very first time. Older campers transition into leadership programming that, for many, becomes their first tangible leadership experience: running a Shabbat, taking responsibility for a cabin, or mentoring a younger camper.

Capital Camps also works to ensure that different groups feel included and that they can enjoy everything the summer camp experience has to offer. The Atzma’im inclusion program ensures that children of any denominational affiliation, gender, race, sexual orientation, or socioeconomic status, including those with a range of intellectual, emotional, and physical abilities can fully participate in the camp experience. The campus is fully ADA compliant and support staff is available for medical and mental health services. Through annual partnerships with Friends of the IDF, Israeli campers who have lost someone through conflict are welcomed to camp, a reminder that the camp’s community extends well beyond its 75-mile radius.

How does the Foundation support camp?

Access to transformative Jewish experiences is one of the most powerful investments a community can make. Research shows that Jewish overnight camp creates lasting connection to Jewish identity, community, and leadership in ways that are difficult to replicate.

Study after study, from the Foundation for Jewish Camp to Brandeis University’s Cohen Center for Modern Jewish Studies, finds that Jewish camp alumni are more likely to marry Jewish partners, raise Jewish children, donate to Jewish causes, and remain engaged in Jewish communal life across the arc of their adulthood. The mechanism is straightforward: immersive, joyful, community-based experiences during formative years create an attachment to Jewish life that withstands the drift of adulthood.

We know this, and yet, cost remains one of the primary reasons families don’t send their children to Jewish overnight camp. If we can lower this barrier to access, we know we can create strong and vibrant future generations of Jews.

Scholarship funding exists to remove this exact barrier.

The Jewish Community Foundation of the Jewish Federation of Greater Washington is proud to support the expansion of access to transformative experiences like Capital Camps through strategic philanthropy and scholarship funding through both Donor Advised Funds and Legacy Gifts. Because one of the truths we keep returning to in this work is that belonging isn’t something you can teach in the abstract. It has to be lived. And the experiences that young people carry with them into adulthood, their sense of Jewish identity, their instinct toward community, their capacity for leadership, are often rooted in summers like this one.

Ready to learn more?

If you’re a donor thinking about where camp scholarship funding goes, it goes here: to a child who might not otherwise have access to the people, the places, and their connection to Jewry they just haven’t met yet.

The Catoctin Mountains are waiting!

While touring one of the oldest synagogues in Mexico City on our recent Women’s Philanthropy mission, our guide said something that has stayed with me.

“There are so many ways to be Jewish.”

That is the beauty of Judaism. There is no single way to feel connected, to be seen, or to create meaning within this religion and this community. There are countless ways. While I had heard that before, standing where I was standing, surrounded by the people I was traveling with, it landed differently. It felt truer than ever.

As co-chair of the Jewish Federation of Greater Washington’s Women’s Philanthropy Mission to Mexico City, I had the privilege of helping lead a group of extraordinary women through an experience that moved between history and contemporary Jewish life—from walking through the historic center of Mexico City and visiting long-standing synagogues, to spending time at community institutions like the Centro Deportivo Israelita and Olami ORT, where Jewish life is actively being shaped for the future.

Everywhere we went, we saw that truth reflected back to us. We visited organizations and communities that have built something remarkable for the people they serve, each one shaped by its own history and its current needs. I left inspired by the reminder of what is possible when people decide to build.

Finding My Place

I have carried that feeling home, and it has me thinking about all the ways I can create my own Jewish identity within the communities I belong. As a parent raising three Jewish children. Within my close circle of friends. In my community here at home. And in the wider work of Federation, both in DC and at the national level. The trip gave me a new lens for seeing my own role, not as someone who simply participates, but as someone who can help build and shape what comes next.

And of course, what I will remember most is the people.

The Best Conversations Happened in Traffic

This trip was, at its heart, about building connection. And yes, we spent more than our fair share of time on the bus, moving between sites like Xochimilco, Casa Gilardi, and neighborhood community spaces, but even that became part of the experience. Those hours gave me the chance to truly get to know so many of the women on the trip.

To me, that is what being Jewish has always been about: relationships and connection.

I am deeply grateful to have served as a co-chair of this experience, and even more grateful for the people who made the journey alongside me. I returned home inspired to keep creating, and to keep building the connections that hold our community together.

There Are Countless Ways

One of the things I value most about Federation is that it creates space for each of us to explore our Jewish identity in ways that are meaningful to us. Whether through Women’s Philanthropy, travel experiences like this one, or the many opportunities to learn, connect, and give back throughout the year, there are countless ways to find your place and help shape our community.

If you’re curious about where your own Jewish journey might lead, I hope you’ll consider joining a future Women’s Philanthropy event or mission. You never know which conversation, which community, or which moment will stay with you long after you have returned home.

Looking to experience the power of Jewish community firsthand? Learn more about Federation’s giving societies like Women’s Philanthropy, or find a local event through our Community Calendar.

There was one moment during the Pozez JCC Pride celebration on June 21 that I haven’t stopped thinking about.

The event was designed to celebrate Pride and provide a window into Israeli culture, art, and community. As the Jewish Federation of Greater Washington’s Community Shlicha (Israeli emissary) in Northern Virginia, I was there to help bring the Israeli perspective into the evening through stories, culture, and personal connection. Guests explored our LGBTQ+ LOVE Archive, a photography exhibition featuring LGBTQ+ couples and families across Israel before settling in for a joyful drag performance by New York performers Matzah Belle Soup and Alvah Klempt.

It also happened to be Father’s Day.

During the performance, one of the performers invited the father of a gay attendee onto the stage, and he completely stole the show. He was hilarious, joyful, and fully embraced the moment.

After the performance, one of the drag queens came up to me and said:

“That dad is exactly like my dad.” She told me she immediately wanted to call him and wish him a Happy Father’s Day, telling him how grateful she was to have him as her father.

It was a small exchange, but it captured something much larger about the evening: community, connection, and the powerful impact of making people feel loved and supported for who they are.

Acceptance has a ripple effect. A supportive parent doesn’t only change the life of their own child. It shows others what love and belonging can look like. As she spoke about her father, I couldn’t help but think of my own, and of standing beside him at the Tel Aviv Pride Parade.

Where My Connection to Pride Began

My connection to Pride is deeply personal. Some of my earliest memories are of attending the Tel Aviv Pride Parade with my father. I remember the colors, the music, the joy, and the sense that everyone belonged. At the time, I didn’t fully understand the political or social significance of those moments, but I understood what it felt like to be surrounded by people who were free to be themselves.

Years later, I met my wife, Hila, and together we built our life within a community that made space for us. As an Israeli, Pride reminds me that progress is possible and that the freedoms many of us experience today were built by people who came before us and fought for them.

And as one of Federation’s Shlichim, Pride is an opportunity to create spaces where people feel seen, welcomed, and connected—to each other, to their community, and to Israel.

How Shlichim Bring Israeli Stories to Community Life

As a Shlicha, my role is to share Israel through lived experience: through memory, through culture, through complexity, and through real people.

For me, Israel education is ultimately about people and stories.

This event was intentionally designed to create a joyful and welcoming space during a particularly complicated and emotionally heavy time. Guests walked through a photography exhibition featuring LGBTQ+ couples from across Israel while enjoying Israeli-inspired cocktails. We then welcomed two Jewish drag performers from New York who brought humor, creativity, and joy to the stage.

What I loved about this format was that people were learning about Israel without feeling like they were sitting in a lecture. They were experiencing Israeli culture, stories, and exploring questions of identity, family, and belonging in a natural and personal way.

Seeing Ourselves in the Story

One photograph in the exhibition held special meaning for me.

It was a picture of my wife, Hila, and me under our wedding chuppah.

I included it intentionally. Rather than seeing LGBTQ+ Israelis as distant figures, participants were seeing someone they already knew through community connection. They know our story, our relationship. And suddenly, Israel was not just a place being described. It was a place being lived by people in their own community. Most importantly, I wanted people to see LGBTQ+ Israelis not as statistics or symbols, but as human beings with stories that many of us can relate to.

In many ways, our photo served as a reminder that the stories being told throughout the exhibit are not just Israeli stories. They are the stories of real people, families, and communities.

Israel Is Not One Narrative

LGBTQ+ life in Israel, like Israel itself, is complex and multifaceted. What I hoped participants would take away is that LGBTQ+ life in Israel is not one story. It is many.

There are moments of progress and celebration. There are ongoing challenges. There are vibrant communities and everyday lives that continue to evolve.

But most importantly, there are people—real people—whose lives are shaped by the same things that shape all of ours: family, love, belonging, and the search for community.

Why Storytelling Builds Connection to Israel

People often encounter Israel through headlines. But headlines rarely leave room for nuance, humanity, or complexity.

Stories do.

When we engage with LGBTQ+ Israelis, or any Israelis, we are engaging with questions that are deeply familiar: Who are we? Where do we belong? How do we build families and communities? How do we create spaces where people feel seen?

These are universal questions. And that is why storytelling matters so deeply in Jewish communal life.

What Shlichim Make Possible

This is where Shlichim play a unique role, and where Federation’s investment in this work becomes so meaningful. Shlichim help transform Israel from something distant into something immediate and relatable.

We don’t only bring information. We bring ourselves—our memories, our cultures, our families, our contradictions, and our hopes. Through that, we create a bridge between Israel and the Greater Washington Jewish community. Federation’s support makes it possible for those bridges to exist. It allows Israeli voices to be present in community life in an ongoing, sustained way, as relationships. These relationships build strong Jewish identities for now and for the future.

This Gives Me Hope

What gives me hope is not just that people came to this event. It’s that they stayed.

In fact, they stayed long after the program officially ended. They stayed across generations, across identities, across perspectives.

They stayed for conversations. They came to celebrate Pride, but they also came to learn, to listen, and to connect—to each other, and to Israel.

In a time that often feels fragmented, that matters more than ever. Because community is not built through a single moment. It is built through repeated acts of showing up for one another.

And often, it begins with something very simple: creating a space where people feel welcome.

In 1979, President Jimmy Carter gave a speech that described America as in a bit of a funk. Decades later, as we prepare to celebrate our country’s 250th birthday, the vibes (as the youths say) are different but once again off. There’s so much playing out on the national stage that feels discordant, absurd, and divorced from our ideals. For many, it feels like an odd time for a big celebration.

But as anyone who has ever been in a funk will tell you, you get out not by hunkering down but by building and creating. So, this semiquincentennial, rather than gloss over any conflicted feelings, I’m suggesting we go ahead and harness them. Ask not about the state of your country’s paint, but what you can do with your brush, if you will.

Jokes about the reflecting pool aside, there’s something to be said for our potential as a community to contribute to our country’s future. In a conversation with The Atlantic’s Jeffrey Goldberg, Yehuda Kurtzer of the Shalom Hartman Institute pointed out that Jews are uniquely positioned to have an outsized impact on America’s moral trajectory. And it’s important that we honor this.

America and American Judaism have imprinted on each other. As a minority community, we have been shaped by the broader society and have invested significant energy into shaping that same society. Now is the time to lean into this legacy. Just as we must focus on building Jewish identity within our current context, we must also commit to reinforcing our national values. Strengthening America for the better must continue to be a core American Jewish undertaking—to the benefit of all.

Our desire to be part of a well-functioning, pluralistic, and democratic society also informs our work at Federation. We believe in the importance of a broad range of views across the Jewish community and across American society. We also seek to support and galvanize our community to make an impact according to Jewish tradition and values. By supporting an ecosystem that facilitates meaningful connection, discussion, and action, we are working to trigger positive changes both within our community and at scale.

There are people today who describe America as a country in decline, with the infighting and all our challenges serving as evidence that our country’s best years are behind us. But I don’t buy this. Nothing about the American story or the story of the Jewish people was ever guaranteed and yet, somehow, in every era, we have found a way to strive closer to our ideals.

Things can seem rough out there and still, it is within our power to meet our country at this crossroads and nudge it towards the core principles from the Declaration of Independence (with an important revision):

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all people are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among them are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Thank goodness for basketball. And soccer. And aliens.

I can’t claim to be a Knicks fan, but I am a fan of joy and connection and that’s exactly what I’m seeing pour out of official and unofficial New Yorkers. What a pleasure it is to see people come together and bask in something shared. Witnessing New York City’s jubilation has made me happier and my team was out in round one of the playoffs.

Likewise, as a soccer fan, I am also very much enjoying the stories coming out of the World Cup. There has been a lot of heartwarming content about fans coming to the U.S. and delighting in the hospitality of everyday Americans (and our ice-cold sodas). We are enjoying each other’s company as fellow sports fans and that feels good.

From what I hear, a sense of large-scale connection is also an animating theme in Steven Spielberg’s latest movie Disclosure Day, which I’m hoping to see this weekend. It’s been a while since I’ve been to the movies but give me an intriguing premise, alien encounters, and a chance to meditate on our shared humanity and I’m there.

After all, our brains, and spirits, crave stories like these. Our desire to feel connected to each other and to something bigger than ourselves is hardwired. We don’t have to train or teach ourselves to seek this out. We want to belong. We want to celebrate and cheer and stand in awe in the middle of 5th Avenue. Watching the big game (or a UFO landing) is always better with a crowd.

What we do have to work at is acting on our instincts and lowering the barriers to connection. This is a major focus of our work at Federation. How do we build a regional Jewish infrastructure that can routinely spark and sustain meaningful relationships? How do we help people join and lead collective endeavors?

How do we ensure individual lives, experiences, and aspirations combine to form something larger, stronger, and more meaningful than any of us could create alone?

There’s a lot of darkness out there, but some of the highlights of the last couple weeks are reminding me that we have more in common than we think. So long as we work together, hatred and division don’t stand a chance against sympathetic joy, pride, amusement, and fellowship.