Month: September 2025

Kibbutz Nir Oz was little-known outside certain circles before October 7, including within our local Jewish community. Now its name is a reminder of both unimaginable loss and extraordinary resilience.

Earlier this month, I had the privilege of attending a powerful event at the Bender JCC featuring three remarkable individuals with deep, personal ties to Kibbutz Nir Oz:

• Gadi Moses, the oldest living hostage to return from captivity, spoke about his experience of 482 days in captivity.
• Nir Metzger, whose father was murdered in captivity and whose mother was taken hostage and later released, spoke about the idyllic life on the kibbutz and how it was shattered in an instant on October 7.
• Emi Palmor, former Director General of Israel’s Ministry of Justice and now leading Nir Oz’s rehabilitation efforts, spoke about the challenging yet hopeful process of rebuilding the kibbutz, describing it as “the most important Zionist act of our time.”

Their stories were different, but the message was clear: after unbearable loss, the focus is on moving forward and rebuilding. The clearest example came with Gadi’s release from captivity, when his first message was simple and powerful: ‘I will do everything I can to rebuild Nir Oz.’ I left thinking not only about the horror of that day, but about the resilience it takes to rebuild trust, community, and a true sense of belonging from the ground up.

This conversation was part of Kesher Nir Oz, a grassroots partnership between members of our community and the survivors and leaders of Kibbutz Nir Oz, launched by lay leaders from Congregation Beth El, B’nai Israel, and Ohr Kodesh. It is heartwarming to see such busy people dedicate so much time and energy to sustaining this relationship.

Through Federation’s Local Israel Engagement work, we aim to help nurture such efforts alongside community leaders, recognizing just how powerful these people-to-people ties can be. These relationships don’t just show support—they help stitch our people back together. And that work is far from over.

We were honored to help bring a delegation from Nir Oz to visit our community last year, and now our conversations with Kesher Nir Oz continues. The potential is tremendous, and the need for healing, presence, and partnership is urgent.

If you know of (or are part of) a similar initiative between a DMV-area congregation or organization and a community or project in Israel, I’d love to hear from you. Email me at udi.eitan@shalomdc.org.

Some may find this surprising, but Yom Kippur is the Jewish holiday that leaves me feeling the most hopeful. I think it’s that the process of reflection and atonement always seems to end on a high note. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t close out Yom Kippur vowing to do more to live up to their values. That we conclude this solemn beat in the Jewish calendar eager to be more present, more loving, and more patient is incredibly moving.

This year, I’m getting a jump on things because I’m already in a hopeful mood. I say this even as our community, and our country, continue to grapple with significant challenges. Lately, I have been thinking about how tempting it’s become to give into division. We think differently about Jewish identity, Israel, partisan politics, philanthropic priorities, and so much more. And the siren call to reject the people who disagree with us has been growing louder.

But here’s where that hope comes in: I believe that as a Jewish community we can handle almost any issue that arises. We have repeatedly proven this capacity over millennia. That’s what makes Yom Kippur—and Jewish tradition more broadly—so compelling. We are called not only to take responsibility for our individual actions and inactions but also those of our community and the Jewish people. We are asked to embrace our collective responsibilities as we work to strengthen the Jewish future and serve as a force for good in the world.

No doubt the coming year will continue to challenge us in ways large and small. We may struggle with significant questions that define what it means to be a vibrant Jewish community. We may even debate core ideas of what it means to be Jewish or live a Jewish life. And throughout these struggles, we may find ourselves lingering in discomfort as we engage with differing perspectives and work together towards shared goals. But even as we do this work, I am confident our wisdom and our bonds will hold. The Jewish people are built for these times. Our community is built for these times. I am more hopeful than ever that we will not only navigate what’s ahead but blaze a trail toward something brighter.

And now, I want to ask: What gives YOU hope? If you have a minute ahead of the holiday, drop me a line and let me know where you see glimmers of good.

When Women’s Philanthropy set out to create a signature gathering for the Lions of Judah community, the goal was simple but ambitious: to build something that felt both celebratory and essential. A space to honor stories. A moment to deepen connections. A tradition worth beginning.

Held at the Four Seasons in Georgetown, this inaugural event on Monday, September 15, brought together more than 150 women for a morning of inspiration, reflection, and connection. More than a brunch, L’Chaim was a powerful reminder of what happens when women gather with intention. When leadership meets legacy. When stories are shared freely, and futures are shaped collectively.

From Welcome to Why

You could feel it immediately. It was a celebration of shared values, lived leadership, and the power of women’s philanthropy to shape our community.

Co-Chairs Yvonne Schlafstein Distenfeld and Irene Sherman set the tone: this wasn’t a day to sit back—it was a day to reflect, to honor, to energize.

Yvonne shared:

“There’s something truly powerful about bringing so many women together in one room—it’s inspiring every time. I’m in awe of the energy, strength, and spirit of being surrounded by such extraordinary women!”

Stories That Moved Us

Wendy Sachs, our guest speaker, took the stage with a lens into her world and her work as director and producer of the documentary, October 8, and her view of what it means to be a woman showing up in today’s world. Her stories didn’t just highlight antisemitism, they challenged us to consider how we use our voices, our resources, our courage.

Her message resonated deeply with the room. One Lion said:

“Wendy Sachs was so eloquent and inspiring and I loved hearing her speak. I was impressed how she talked about her audience being a global one (which we certainly need).”

Another Lion added:

“Wasn’t Wendy Sachs amazing? She was just as engaging and interesting as she could be.”

A Story Close to Home

Among the most moving moments of the morning came when Marianna Ashin, Lion of Judah Chair, stood to share her personal journey—from a young refugee arriving in the U.S. to a proud Jewish leader helping others write their own Federation stories.

Marianna spoke of leaving everything behind in 1989; her home, her extended family, and her familiar world in Kyiv. She recalled standing on a train platform with her parents and brother, holding only a pair of suitcases and an unwavering sense of Jewish identity.

“While we may have made a leap of faith by getting on that plane,” she said, “Federation was there to catch us when we landed at JFK.”

The room was quiet as she described how Federation gave her family not just resources, but dignity: language classes, job support, school supplies, summer camp. A kitchen full of groceries. A Jewish home in a new land.

“The Jewish Federation didn’t just help us get by. You helped us imagine what could come next, and gave us the tools to pursue.”

Her story reminded everyone in the room exactly why their giving matters.

“Without Jewish Federation. Without you. I am not here—standing in front of you. Sharing my story.”

The Strength in the Room

What made the morning unforgettable wasn’t just the speakers or the setting; it was the women who filled the room. Each one carrying a legacy of giving, each one committed to community.

“It was fun to connect with old friends and also meet new ones,” said one Lion. “What a spectacular event!”

Another reflected on what made the gathering so meaningful:

“I am so glad I came today! It was a beautiful event, and I learned so much from the stories that the women told.”

A Moment, A Movement

L’Chaim was about the quiet confidence that comes from standing shoulder to shoulder with women who believe in tikkun olam, repairing the world, and who act on that belief every day.

“This event was a huge success,” one Lion shared. “It has all the markings of a program to have every year before the holidays.”

Thank You

To all who joined us, thank you. Your stories enriched the fabric of our community. And your leadership, quiet or bold, helps move Jewish Greater Washington forward.

We are grateful to our host committee, our Women’s Philanthropy leaders, our Co-Chairs, and all who brought their time, energy, and commitment to this celebration.

If you’d like to learn more about the Lions of Judah giving society, please contact Becca Ginns at becca.ginns@shalomdc.org or (301) 230-7236.

What began as a bold idea—to bring together leaders from across Northern Virginia’s vast Jewish landscape for a morning of connection and shared purpose—came to life on Sunday, September 7.

Hosted by The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington at Gesher Jewish Day School in Fairfax, the Northern Virginia Leadership Breakfast welcomed nearly 40 lay and professional leaders from synagogues and partner agencies across the region. Over coffee and conversation, participants built new relationships, deepened existing ones, and explored what it takes to lead effectively in a rapidly evolving and increasingly interconnected Jewish community.

At the center of the morning was a dynamic workshop led by Miriam Stein, Founder and Chief Strategist at Saddlerock Strategies, designed to strengthen relationships and build greater cohesion among our boards.  With thanks to longtime leaders from across NOVA who facilitated at each table, the sessions sparked candid, peer-led conversations about how to apply these insights to strengthen boards, build trust, and lead with intention.

“We’re spread out across the region, and it’s easy to feel like we’re working in silos,” said Ilana Rothberg, a member of the Board of Trustees at Gesher Jewish Day School. “Coming together helps us get to know one another, share ideas, support each other, and remember that we’re all working toward the same goal: a vibrant Northern Virginia Jewish community.”

Northern Virginia is the fastest-growing Jewish community in the Greater Washington area—and Federation is committed to helping it thrive. Through targeted investments, leadership development, and community-building initiatives like this one, Federation is working alongside partners to ensure the region’s Jewish institutions and leaders are prepared to meet current needs and shape a strong Jewish future.

“This is a growing and flourishing region,” said Ari Brickman, Federation’s Senior Director of Community Change Initiatives. “We want to ensure that Northern Virginia has the strongest leaders and the strongest institutions—and that we’re true partners in that work.”

Federation CEO Gil Preuss echoed that commitment: “We see this as a beginning. The strength of a Jewish community is really dependent on the strength of its leadership. What began as an idea is now a foundation we can grow from—together.”

More than a leadership breakfast, this was a clear step toward something bigger: a more connected, empowered, and vibrant Jewish community in Northern Virginia.

There’s a tendency we have as humans to make our groups exclusive. Sociologists have long observed our inclination to use stricter and stricter criteria to create fewer and fewer insiders. You need only look at social media or partisan politics to confirm the phenomenon is alive and well.

Indeed, in our hyper-polarized world, it’s tempting to put the line between “us” and “them” in bold, especially when it feels like our individual and collective identities are on the line. It’s certainly easier and more comfortable to write people off than engage with them.

But shutting people out has never led to progress. In fact, insisting on lines of division is often the first step toward violence and hate. We don’t yet know the motive behind the assassination of Charlie Kirk, but we know for certain someone chose murder over conversation.

Given an increasingly tense social dynamic, I find myself once again rooting for our community to take a countercultural path. Rather than narrow our boundaries, we can do the unlikely thing and uphold an open tent.

Don’t get me wrong—a tent needs a perimeter. The question of who is “in” and who is “out” is an important one and part of our community’s ongoing discussions. But if we are to achieve our goals and build the vibrant future we seek, then the defining feature of our communal tent must be its open flaps, tied back to welcome people in.

I wrote last week about how there are people in our community who are wrestling with where they stand on Israel and Gaza. There is another layer to this. Because in addition to feeling conflicted, there are also many who feel excluded and that their viewpoints are unwelcome. I have heard this both from people who hold conservative views and from people who hold liberal views. I have heard this from people whose Jewish values lead them to focus primarily if not exclusively on the care and wellbeing of the Jewish people and those whose Jewish values lead them to focus primarily on the broader society. We may differ in our perspectives, but we share a desire to feel like we belong.

Of course, an open tent may be a simple image but maintaining one is complex work. To be a welcoming community is to invite friction. We might accidentally bump into each other, perhaps spill a drink, misunderstand one another because of all the noise. But the messiness is worth it. Because it’s also the path to connection, understanding, imagination, and growth. To borrow a line from Franklin Foer, “American Jews are really good imagineers.” We don’t accept the dynamics of the day. We forge our own path and can serve as a model to the rest of the country of how to resist the urge to exclude and instead recognize one another’s worth.

I know that beliefs in our community run deep—I love this about us. I hope everyone feels comfortable sharing their thoughts, questions, and quandaries. I also hope that as we look to 5786, we take that extra step and make space for someone who thinks differently about what it means to be Jewish today. After all, the future is not built from consensus. It’s built from belonging and the creativity it inspires.

More than 700 days have passed since October 7—nearly two years since that horrific morning tore through Israeli life.

And for every one of those days, dozens of hostages have remained in Gaza, held by Hamas in conditions we can barely imagine. Today, that number stands at 48. It’s believed that 20 are still alive.

Among them is Alon Ohel.

A Glimpse of Life

Last week, for the first time since he was taken, we saw Alon.

In a Hamas video, another hostage—Guy Gilboa Dalal—is paraded through Gaza, pleading for his life. Alon appears beside him. A single, fleeting moment. A moment that marks the first visual proof Alon is still alive since October 7, 2023.

It means something. For his family, it means everything.

Until now, they had nothing. No photo. No message. Nothing since Alon disappeared from a shelter near Kibbutz Re’im, after escaping the Nova music festival massacre.

We now know from Hostage, a new book by survivor Eli Sharabi, who was held captive with Alon for months, that Alon was expected to be released in February. But the second-phase deal never came.

And so, seven months later, the agonizing wait continues.

This Sukkot, We Make Room for Them

As we look ahead to Sukkot, a time of shelter and solidarity, we’re preparing to turn our grief into action.

Together with the Hostages Families Forum, Adas Israel, and partners across Greater Washington, we will build a Sukkah of Hope in front of the White House.

A place to gather. To remember. To say out loud: they are still there. And we are still here.

Refusing to Look Away

Even in this unbearable reality, a single photo can mean everything.

It means someone is still alive.
It means their story is not over.
It means we still have time to bring them home.

And it means the world still needs to hold Hamas to account for these ongoing atrocities and the suffering inflicted on so many innocent lives.

We carry that truth into Sukkot, into the shelter we build, the space we hold, and the hope we refuse to let go of.

May this be the year they come home.
And may it also be the year of peace.

Over the past several weeks, I’ve spoken with donors, volunteer leaders, Federation staff, and colleagues across Jewish organizations, all seeking to understand how to make sense of this moment of division and conflict.

Each one of us can name the many divisions that exist within our country, our community, the Jewish people, and often within our own families. What struck me most, however, in my many conversations, were the fractures and struggles that exist within each one of us. Some feel uneasy about how national leaders address antisemitism on college campuses yet relieved the issue is finally receiving attention. They are grappling with the rise of antisemitism and anti-Israel sentiment and with the complexity of how best to respond.

Most commonly, however, the conversation evolves to questions about Israel, Hamas, Gaza, Palestinians, and the hostages. Many people deeply believe in the need for Israel to eliminate the threat posed by Hamas and to ensure the horrors of October 7 never happen again. They see the war as an existential one to Israel’s survival and by extension of the future of the Jewish people. For many, Israel is a cornerstone of Jewish identity and safety. Our fear is not only what happens on the ground, but also about what it means for Jewish life, security, and solidarity around the world.

And, at the same time, many of these same people are deeply struggling with what they read every day about the number of lives lost, the level of hunger that may exist in Gaza and a war with no end in sight, and the devastating possibility that the hostages will not return home. One person stated that they felt ashamed, both by the actions of the Israeli government and by the part of themselves that believes these actions may be necessary to ensure a safe and secure Jewish future. That tension stayed with me. For many, this moment is not about certainty, but about navigating conflicting truths: fearing what inaction might invite, while grieving what action demands.

Another person shared that they’ve been waiting, hoping that Israel’s actions might eventually bring about something redemptive. That we would be able to say, “This is why,” and find some clarity or affirmation in the face of so much pain and that the broader world would finally understand. But that moment hasn’t come. And for some, it’s beginning to feel like it may not. What once felt like hopeful anticipation has become another layer of grief and shame.

One of our greatest challenges, both in conversation and as a community, is resisting the impulse to expect ourselves or others to have clarity when there is none. These are morally complex times. The struggle many are experiencing is about identity. What does it mean to be Jewish, to live our values, when we are confronted with human suffering, fear, a longing for justice, and a sense of abandonment?

As the Jewish Federation, we strive to be both clear in our values and aspirations for a vibrant Jewish community while creating space for honest conversation that does not demand clarity or agreement. By recognizing that those with whom we are speaking may also be struggling within themselves, we can begin to soften the divides that exist between us and stay in relationship through the uncertainty and discomfort.

As we move forward, I continue to believe in the power of this community to show up for one another, hold space for complexity, and lead with compassion. Our perspectives may differ, but the emotions we carry can still connect us. In a moment that could pull us apart, our shared experience can hold us together.

Thank you for your partnership, your courage, and your commitment.