More than six weeks into the Israel-Hamas war, the lyrics to Naomi Shemer’s classic folk-song, Al Kol Eleh, (Over All These Things) keep streaming through my head. A song I learned decades ago, it remains as resonant as it did when it was written in 1980, contrasting images of life in Israel as both bitter and sweet, vulnerable and strong. I feel as though I am currently living in that split screen on steroids: the shocking images of Hamas’s assault, which reminded us that evil exists; terrifying images of hatred and antisemitism on city streets and college campuses throughout the world; the faces of the 239 hostages whose fate remains unknown.
Yet these coexist with scenes of unity, bravery, and resilience: Israelis who transformed their pro-democracy infrastructure into civilian command centers; financial and material support that is pouring in from around the world; the ultra-Orthodox who have mobilized in unprecedented ways to fill essential jobs that reservists left open and even to join the army. I have been most moved by the funerals of fallen soldiers, at which families have sought solace in Jewish values and rituals and proclaimed how each of their loved ones had been proud to fight for the safety of the Jewish people and the future of the Jewish state. And just last week, standing with nearly 300,000 supporters of Israel and the Jewish people on the National Mall was an uplifting reminder of the power of community.
The blur of emotions that coexist as I move through the hours, the days, the weeks are a rollercoaster of fear, anxiety, sadness, and pride.
For me, as for all Israelis and most Jews abroad, this is not an abstract war, but a deeply personal one. My son has a good friend, whom he met on a gap year program in Israel, whose brother is being held captive in Gaza; two sets of long-time friends lost their son and son-in-law in the first days of battle; and a week ago, Israel buried a beloved high school principal who, with his wife, previously taught at my children’s Jewish day school. And most closely, my siblings and their families live in Israel, and my daughter, a lone soldier in the IDF, recently became engaged to her boyfriend, also an Israeli soldier. The blur of emotions that coexist as I move through the hours, the days, the weeks are a rollercoaster of fear, anxiety, sadness, and pride.
So much has already been written about this war: the pro-democracy movement that pivoted to lead the response; the collapse of Israel’s conceptions of deterrence; the sense of betrayal experienced by those on the progressive left; concerns for what will happen in the day after. I don’t have any new insights to add, nor a brilliant analysis of what comes next. I can only share how honored and privileged I am to have the opportunity to try and make a meaningful difference as CEO of The Russell Berrie Foundation, working with an extraordinary professional team in Israel and New Jersey, and with a Board of Trustees for whom the security of Israel and the Jewish people is a deeply felt commitment.
The Foundation has historically invested in ensuring a thriving Israel – whether through the economic growth of the Galil and Jerusalem, the integration of minority populations such as Israeli-Arabs and the Hareidim into the economy and society, or the promotion of Jewish pluralism. Over the last 10 years, the Foundation has granted more than $106 million in Israel. We understand that after October 7th, Israel is facing an existential threat to its future and that we need to be part of the solution in the ways we know how.
Consequently, in the first six weeks of the war, the Foundation approved $1.8 million in new grants to meet immediate needs in Israel. In the scheme of the more than $600M raised by the Jewish Federation system, or the tens of millions that many private Jewish foundations are now allocating, it can feel like our funding is just a drop in a bucket. But working with long-time grantees and trusted partners, our team has done what it does best – ensuring that these initial grants, and those that follow, make a difference by identifying gaps where our funding can target problems and bring solutions. We are connecting grantees to new funders and advising long-term partners.
As immediate needs continue to be met by the incredible generosity of Jews in Israel and around the world, we have turned our attention to the day after. Our team has already begun working with our partners to understand what must happen now in order to take care of what will come next. When this war ends, there will be opportunities to address some of the deepest challenges facing the State of Israel and the Russell Berrie Foundation intends to be ready.
Our team has already begun working with our partners to understand what must happen now in order to take care of what will come next. When this war ends, there will be opportunities to address some of the deepest challenges facing the State of Israel and the Russell Berrie Foundation intends to be ready.
At the end of Naomi Shemer’s song, after describing the everyday moments that make up a life, the lyricist beseeches – whether God or perhaps the Israeli people themselves:
Ana shmor li al kol eleh
Ve'al a'huvei nafshi
Al ha'sheket, al ha'bechi
ve'al zeh ha'shir
Guard for me please all these things
And all my beloved ones
Guard the quiet, Guard the tears
And guard this very song
During these days when many of us alternate between the numbness and weeping – which Shemer seems to understand as less opposite states of being than concurrent ones– the song in our hearts remains hopeful that Israel will prevail and return to enact its best vision of itself.