By Heidi Gantwerk
SAN DIEGO — A few weeks ago, I asked people to share with me the moments that have given them hope lately.
The responses took my breath away. People sent me artwork, music, poems, song lyrics, essays, videos, deeply personal reflections, and words of gratitude, encouragement and support that lifted my spirits. I told them I would share what I learned, and first and foremost, I learned that our community is full of thoughtful, talented, creative and inspiring people, all finding their own unique way to stay strong and hold onto hope throughout a dark time.
I learned that many of you look to our history to strengthen your resolve:
“We are Jews. A people of hope and prayer. If our forefathers had given up hope or despair every time they faced a pogrom, there would be no Jewish faith or nation… Israel is a living testimony to the ongoing faith… Yes, I grieve. Yes, I cannot believe. Yes, I cannot understand the inhumanity. But yet, I have faith. Thirty-five hundred odd years of faith.”
Some looked to simchas to reaffirm their hope and commitment. I read about a baby naming at which the parents chose a name with family significance that was also the name of a fallen IDF solider:
“The parents of this beautiful, tiny, 8 day-old boy, explained that they decided to use his name for their son because they wanted to perpetuate his name and soul among his people, they wanted to be able to tell his story to their son as he grew up, they wanted to keep his memory and heroism alive.”
I heard from many of you that being part of your own Jewish community was grounding and essential for you this year. Some joined synagogues for the first time in decades, and others leaned into their synagogue communities in a way they had not before. Some turned to their Hadassah sisters, their Hillel friends, their Federation family, and some to stepping up their volunteering at Jewish organizations.
And so many of you look with pride to our resilient young people – our teens and our young adults – who are embracing their Jewish identity at a moment when that choice is not an easy one:
“Seeing young people proudly embracing their Jewish identity in everyday life fills me with hope.”
I posed the same question to leaders from Sha’ar HaNegev. Their answers, unsurprisingly, were filled with pain and grief, but also astonishing resilience. The leader of the Senior Center wrote something that particularly resonated for me, and felt Jewish to its core:
“The first days were unbearably hard. The people who restored my hope were those who had lost the most precious thing in their lives. After we cried together, our encounter was filled with dark humor, and the strength and comfort in it were immense. It was then that I began to see a small, faint light of hope.”
They wrote about forgiving themselves, about allowing themselves to move between despair and hope and back again. One of the young adults who visited San Diego with the Sha’ar HaNegev delegation wrote:
“Life in the near future is going to be a game of triggers. Of releasing and holding. Then release a little more and then fall completely. And get up again, only to crash the day after that, only to get back up again. Because of my possibility to shine, to think a little about myself, to give myself back some light. And yet, not to forget for a single moment what we are fighting for.”
Sha’ar HaNegev’s Youth Director shared this embodiment of hope as an action, as a mission:
“I miss normal life. Our lives will never return to what they were. And we will never succeed in everything. But we are on a mission. This year, like every year on Yom Kippur: I forgive myself. I am filled with compassion for myself. I’ve done everything I can, and I am doing everything I can. And I forgive myself for what I cannot do.”
Finally, I learned just how much our partnership with Sha’ar HaNegev has meant to the people most affected by the attack on October 7th. And how much it has done for us. We wanted nothing more than to help, because to help is an act of hope. We have helped in countless ways, and we are certainly not done. The needs in Sha’ar HaNegev and the rest of Israel will not be measured in weeks or months, but in years, and we must be there for them.
I will close with the words of Maia Ifrah, Director of International Relations for Sha’ar HaNegev, after a recent visit to San Diego:
“The bond between Sha’ar HaNegev and San Diego is well-known, but for me, it has grown beyond words—it has become deeply personal. Throughout the visit, Heidi asked us to share ‘a moment of hope.’ Honestly, I struggled to find one. The past few months have been filled with uncertainty and challenges. I’m happy to say that during this visit, I found that moment of hope! This visit reminded me of who I was prior to October 7th. It reminded me that behind us stands a powerful, strong community who has our back! Though I’ve never had a sister… if I could choose a sister, it would be San Diego. A source of inspiration and pride, someone who watches over me, speaks openly, and stands by me no matter what.”
All of these words – these deeply personal reflections – are precious gifts that fortify me, replenish me, and help me to prepare for the reflection the High Holidays require of us. I hope they do the same for you.
Wishing you and your loved ones a sweet, happy and hopeful New Year. Shanah Tova and Shabbat Shalom
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Heidi Gantwerk is President and Chief Executive Officer of the Jewish Federation of San Diego.