My post last week about Hanukah mentioned that “[s]ome nights the whole family isn’t together and the night is a little less festive but the lights are still there, shining.” I guess (well, I’m sure) I was missing having children in the house, since our son is out in the world and our daughter was still a few days away from coming home from her semester in Paris. But it’s better now, since somehow, some way, the travel stars aligned and she made it home through last weekend’s winter storm.

So Hanukah is over, and the Christmas break is upon us. Even though it isn’t my holiday, I try to take the vacation to truly enjoy our family and our friends. How we do that has changed over the years – I remember many New Year’s Eves with four or five little kids and babies asleep in a bedroom with parents celebrating together at someone’s home. There were family trips to New England, complete with skiing down those icy slopes. (My skiing career ended one Christmas Day at the bottom of Butternut Mountain with a young man standing over me asking, “Ma’am? Ma’am, are you okay?” I was fine, but my pride never recovered.) Our winter vacations have certainly changed as our kids have grown, but the most important thing is to be together.

And, especially in years like this, where Hanukah is over, all the gifts have been distributed and the last package has been wrapped, it’s a little easier to focus on what matters. Whatever looks like family to you, no matter the distance between you and yours, it is life-affirming to find a way to be with those who matter most to us. We certainly learned about communicating long-distance with our daughter – check out Skype and all the other video links – so there’s more than one way to make contact. While the Jewish family has become more fragmented in the last couple of decades, it is still the initial unit of Jewish life. Take the time to find a way to celebrate your family, whatever its configuration, however far-flung its members may be.

Wishing you a joyful, restful, meaningful time with family and friends –
Leslie

Hanukah (Chanukah? Hannukah? Hanukkah)? Whatever works for you! It is a holiday that brings light at the darkest time of the year. During its eight nights, a pool of light creates a moment out of time where a family can stop and take a few minutes to spin the dreidel, munch on latkes and share gifts. I find that each night takes on a character all its own. The first night, with its single candle, signals the start, the hope. There are nights for extended family celebrations, some families set aside a night for family game night, many families designate one night for tzedakah projects. Some nights the whole family isn’t together and the night is a little less festive but the lights are still there, shining. 

The glow of the lights against the dark winter night always reminds me that the real point of Hanukah (that’s the spelling I’m going with, by the way) is to celebrate the triumph of right over might. To remember that even when things are the darkest, that we have to be willing to be the one to light the lights, to stand up for what we believe in. This sounds like a very idealistic notion, but there are battles we face today where we are needed, where our voice will make a difference. Go to www.ujcnj.org/crc to learn more about actions you can take to make sure that the lights still shine. And be sure to take a look at out wonderful Hanukah video at www.ujcnj.org for more ways to make Hanukah more spiritual, meaningful, and beautiful!

Happy Hanukah!

As you may have heard, last Sunday was Super Sunday, the biggest one day phonathon for the annual UJA Campaign here in MetroWest.  And it was a wonderful success in terms of dollars raised – over $1.6 million from almost 2,400 donors. The day was just as successful in raising community as well. In addition to making those very important phone calls, there was a lot to do: a Hannukah celebration, Israeli vendors, a tailgate party (Go Giants!) and so much more.

Because I was there all day, I had another perspective on the community that makes up Super Sunday and, indeed, all of MetroWest. The range of ages represented truly went from our youngest to our most senior members. And there was something for all of them to do to make the day so terrific. From the infants who allowed those of us without babies to hug and kiss and ooh and ahh, to the very serious six and seven year olds who gave out candy and picked up the pledge cards, to the middle schoolers, and teenagers making phone calls (come to the fourth session next year and be inspired by our teens and college students!) to the YLD crowd that brought those delicious babies to those of us of a certain age taking in the whole scene, it was a panoply of the Jewish life cycle in action – bringing Jewish values to life through tzedakah and tikkun olam (and many pounds of Hershey kisses!)

But to me, the most amazing volunteers are the Margulies Senior Center participants from the JCC. I have had the privilege of getting to know these independent, interesting and lively folks when I have spoken to them over the last three or four years about my various trips to Israel, Ethiopia and Poland. They have their own (very successful!) UJA Campaign, which is chaired by someone who is a personal hero of mine. Her name is Marcia Gabbe. Marcia is 91, turning 92 in February. Born and raised in Newark, she has made volunteering part of her life while she was a teacher in the Newark school system, while raising her two children Steven and Maxine (Steven is a noted physician and Maxine is an art teacher and a weaver specializing in Judaica) and has been a member of the Center since 1972. When I spoke with her on Sunday, I asked her why she is still volunteering and why it’s so important to her to raise funds for the annual UJA campaign.  Marcia believes that she and the other Margulies Seniors receive so much from their participation in the Center’s activities that they simply must give back to the UJA campaign that supports the JCC and their programming. As for volunteering her own time, she quoted Winston Churchill’s famous saying as her credo: “You make a living by what you get; you make a life by what you give.” 

We would all do well to take Marcia as a role model – I know everyone I saw at Super Sunday, from youngest to oldest, was instinctively following her lead.  Thanks to all who helped plan this great day, both lay leader and professional, thanks to all who participated and thanks to all of you for saying “Yes” when that call came.

Have a Super week!

I stood on Omaha Beach last week, looking up at the seawall and the cliffs that confronted the thousands of American soldiers who landed there on June 6, 1944, to begin the D-Day invasion. It's quiet now on Omaha Beach, but on an overcast, windy day in November of 2009, it's still easy to conjure up the noise, confusion, terror and bravery of 65 years ago. It's actually hard to believe that the Allies pulled off this massive operation that led to the end of World War II in Europe. The consequences of failure would have been unfathomable. And it was accomplished by young men who gave their all for their country. Those who came home are our fathers and grandfathers, their girlfriends and then wives are our mothers and grandmothers, who stayed home and did their own form of service. They are now referred to as "The Greatest Generation," and with good reason.

They did what they had to do, they didn't really talk about the war, and then they went on to build up this country. In the Jewish world, they founded synagogues, JCCs, and strengthened the modern Jewish agencies that are with us still - the vocational services, family and child services, and homes for the elderly. They willingly and cheerfully raised funds for the annual UJA Campaign - and they still do. If you join us this coming Sunday - Super Sunday - you will find the MetroWest Greatest Generation at the phones, collecting pledges, greeting other volunteers. They do this with enthusiasm and with the conviction that perpetuating the ideals and values of tikkun olam, repair of the world, can best be accomplished when we work together. For those of you reading this who are, in fact, members of the Greatest Generation, my thanks, love, and admiration.

I will be making my calls this year with an angel on my shoulder, urging me on. We lost a dear family friend on Thanksgiving, a member of that Greatest Generation, a Lion of Judah and a force of nature. Janice Epstein, z"l, must have made thousands and thousands of phone calls on behalf of the United Jewish Federation of Bayonne, New Jersey, in her lifetime, never taking "no" personally and never giving up, either. The phone calls are simply a way for volunteers to give donors an opportunity to do a mitzvah, something Janice did for so many people. It is a privilege to follow in her footsteps.

So come say hi on Super Sunday - I'm there all day and there's a lot going on, in addition to the main work of making the phone calls that make our MetroWest world go 'round. And if you can't make it to Whippany, please respond as generously as you can when the phone call comes. Every gift matters, every gift makes a difference, every one of you is a meaningful part of this MetroWest community.

See you on Sunday!

Leslie

Now that I've had some time to reflect on the GA from last week, I realized I forgot to tell you about one aspect that was so meaningful for me personally but really goes to the heart of what the GA is about and the conversation that needs to be happening between the Jews of the Diaspora and the Jews of Israel.

Three years ago, I was privileged to attend the national Campaign Chairs and Campaign Directors Mission to Ethiopia and Israel. (Every year, the lay and staff leadership of the 157 federations of North America travel to various parts of the globe and Israel to see your dollars at work and to share ideas. It's known informally as the CCCD Mission.) It was an arduous trip, just in terms of travel. We all gathered in Tel Aviv, then flew that same night to Addis Abiba. From there, we flew to Gondar, the large marketplace town that was in the heart of the region where Ethiopian Jews had lived for centuries. We then climbed into jeeps that carried us deep into the hills, heading towards Ambover, where there had been a synagogue and a Jewish school. We were accompanied to Ethiopia by eight young Ethiopian Israeli olim, all of whom had been born in Ethiopia and who had made aliyah to Israel as part of either Operation Moses or Operation Solomon, the two rescue operations that brought the large majority of the Ethiopian Jewish population home to Eretz Yisroel.

As the jeeps climbed higher and higher into the mountains, we stopped to cross a one lane wooden bridge that only one vehicle could take at a time. We were stopped at a small cluster of houses made of mud and brick. The only way to tell which of the buildings were for the humans and which for the cows, sheep, and goats was that there was slightly more mud holding together the huts meant for the humans. This small village was actually the original home of one of the young Ethiopian Israelis on our trip, Leah Beteolin. I was with Leah when we reached Ambover, a larger collection of the same mud huts. We met young children, six or seven years old, who are responsible for herding the grazing animals, spending hours a day by themselves on this job. Some had shirts and no shorts, some had shorts and no shirt, some had sandals, some had boots - it was the rainy season and we were in mud up to our ankles - but very rarely did we see any child with a full set of clothes and shoes. I watched Leah's face closely - she is a beautiful young woman with a very expressive face - and I could see her try to take in that if her parents had not had the courage to walk out of her village and into the Sudan with the hope of reaching Israel, indeed, if you and I and the Jews of North America had not been there to help them, she would have been one of these children, with no education, no future, cut off from the Jewish world. For me, it was as if I was watching my grandfather return to the small shtetl in the Ukraine where he was born.

Leah's family did make it to Israel and, with her mother's insistence, received her education, is now the manager of two Partnership 2000 relationships in Israel, and is also in her last semester of law school. Leah - who came to Israel as a result of the outreached hands of Israel and Jews of the Diaspora - is creating and strengthening the relationship between Jews in Toronto and in Switzerland with Jews in Israel. It's a pretty amazing story, and I was so proud to see Leah on the stage of the plenary where Prime Minister Netanyahu spoke, telling her story. She is young enough to be my daughter, but I view her as a true friend and peer in the work of connecting the Jewish people.

Before and since the GA, there have been many articles about the relationships or lack thereof between Israel and the Diaspora. I reject the assessment of Natasha Mozgovaya in the November 16 online edition of Ha'aretz, the Israeli newspaper. Mozgovaya claims that the 3,000 attendees who heard Leah's story and that of two other young olim were "moved - but somewhat less so than in the past." Without interviewing the entire audience, I'm not sure how she reached that conclusion. I much prefer to agree with Seth Cohen, writing for the November 17 edition of the eJewishphilanthopy digest. (www.ejewishphilanthropy.com/encountering-Israel-at-the-GA) Cohen's experience at the GA was more like mine. He was "struck by the fact that even though we were in the heart of Washington D.C., at the heart of my experience was the number of conversations and encounters I had that related to Israel."

My encounter with a young Ethiopian Israeli three years ago has forged a strong bond with Leah, and an even stronger bond with Israel. I would recommend that we adopt the recommendation of Seth Cohen: "Let us all continue to gather the partial pieces of our common love of Israel, and let us remember that while the ingathering of our people is powerful, it is the ingathering of our ideas and efforts that can truly transform Israel's encounter with the world - an encounter where the whole is certainly more than the sum of its parts."

Leslie