Idana Goldberg
The Goldberg-Kellman family on the Iceline Trail in Yoho National Park.
About two hours into our hike up the wooded switchbacks, we reached the alpine clearing. Other than the burning in my legs and glimpses of the waterfall through the trees, it was hard to get a sense of how high we had climbed until I looked back and, with some disbelief, could trace our steep, winding path, the parking lot barely discernible below. Hiking this summer in the Canadian Rockies with my family – including my daughter and son-in-law
on their first trip from Israel since October 7th – was a welcome respite from the daily stresses, both personal and professional, of the last year. And, as we approach the anniversary of Hamas’s terror attacks, it’s also an apt metaphor for reflecting on where we’ve been and perhaps where we go next.
While hiking, you must pay attention to the terrain in front of you – the roots, branches, and stones you might stumble over. The Russell Berrie Foundation’s response to Israel’s immediate needs after October 7th mirrored this short-term perspective, awarding over $1.8 million in emergency grants to identify the most pressing impediments, clear the bottlenecks, fill gaps, and provide strategic support.
But when you focus solely on the ground, not only do you not know where you’re heading but you also miss the sweeping vistas, flora and fauna, and burbling streams that transform a hike from a journey between point A and point B into a meaningful experience. This is true in philanthropy as well. When we picked our heads up, we recognized the necessity of taking the long view, paying attention to needs others might overlook, and shaping a forward-looking vision. Our team returned to our long-term priorities – areas we have long invested in but are now uniquely critical for the nation’s recovery. We focused on strengthening Israel’s northern region, which faces evacuation, bombardment, and abandonment; integrating the ultra-Orthodox into society through education and civic engagement at a time when their self-segregation threatens the country’s economic and military resilience; enhancing local leadership to counter the ineffectiveness of the central government; and advancing a resilient Jewish and democratic Israel, ensuring strong foundations for rebuilding once the war ends.
“...as we enter this new Jewish year and face the anniversary of October 7th, the words of the Psalmist offer us another option: we turn our eyes to the mountains to understand that, perhaps, help will come when we learn the lessons of the climb. ”
My family was able to fully experience the beauty of the Rockies partly because of our careful planning. We mentally prepared by speaking to friends who had traveled there before, researching the best hikes and evaluating our options. We also prepared practically – including bringing hiking poles and ace bandages to prevent my bad knees from holding us back! In our philanthropic efforts as well, prior planning, forethought, and relationships boosted our effectiveness. As I wrote last March, “l’et kazot” moments (referencing the Book of Esther) describe this idea of being in the right place at the right time, as a result of past actions. Over the past year, our Israeli team – Binny Shalev, Naomi Feiner, and Amit Granek – connected with key grantees and leaders such as Shimrit Bainhoren and Vered Amar of MAOZ, Yoav Heller of The Fourth Quarter, and Michal Raikin, from Tel-Hai College, who were instrumental in surfacing pressing needs and long-term investment paths. Our years of funding to strengthen the Galil, improve economic opportunities for Israel’s Arab community, build resilience to tackle polarization and preserve democratic values enabled us to make smart choices and share expertise with other funders facing similar strategic challenges.
View from the summit
Our family has hiked together since our children were born; family lore abounds with stories of complicated rock scrambles, getting lost in the woods, hot chocolate at sunrise, and the ritual of packing lunches. The values that these shared experiences instilled enable us to get everyone out early in the morning and excited to hit the trails. Navigating the complexities we’ve faced in our philanthropic response to the rise of anti-Semitism and anti-Israel sentiments here in the United States similarly demanded a strong grounding in our core values. We drew upon our deepest principles to chart the right course – whether it was navigating anti-Israel bias at a national philanthropy conference; articulating the Foundation’s bedrock commitment to pluralism while simultaneously taking a firm stance against hate of any kind for our Making a Difference Award program; or making the painful decision to pause our funding to Columbia University because our values would not allow us to overlook their inaction in the face of hate, violence, and intimidation.
“The values that these shared experiences instilled enable us to get everyone out early in the morning and excited to hit the trails. Navigating the complexities we’ve faced in our philanthropic response to the rise of anti-Semitism and anti-Israel sentiments here in the United States similarly demanded a strong grounding in our core values. ”
I take a valuable lesson from the oft-quoted adage “if you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go together." Just as on our family hikes, where silly games, songs, and deep conversations help pass the time and create long-term memories, in the Foundation's philanthropy, we have had trusted partners with whom we could strategize, share funding risks, and collaborate to make our dollars go further. Particularly in the past year, when we have felt besieged and alone, collaboration and coordination have been our necessary companions. For example, in pulling together a group of funders to collaborate on a convening for more than a dozen organizations working in the field of antisemitism and Holocaust education, we sparked connections, identified duplications and synergies, and began to build a field where none had existed. Similarly, in our work in Northern Israel, our team has been coordinating with five other foundations committed to the Galilee region, sharing data, knowledge, and insights to better support the region, including a commitment to advance the efforts of Tel-Hai College as it becomes the first university in the Galilee.
While hiking a mountain can be transcendent and awe-inspiring, the experience is often exhausting and painful. Whether it’s the beating sun or whipping rain, aching muscles or burning lungs, the sense of accomplishment comes at a cost. As you hike, you realize that the trail that, from a distance, seemed expansive is blocked by the same encumbering roots and stones. Even once you get to the top and are rewarded by the views, you remember you still need to get down; and as anyone who has hiked a mountain can tell you, the way down wreaks havoc on sore and aching knees.
This past year has felt like that unending, painful climb up a mountain, but without even the reward of the view. While there have been glimpses of hope in some small wins – the resilience of Israelis, the heightened connections to Judaism and Jewish community – I have time and again resisted the temptation to be optimistic and to take comfort because, each time I’ve tried, it rang false. Whenever we think we’ve reached the bottom, we get hit with another blow.
Psalm 121, commonly recited during times of crisis, asks, “esa einai el he’harim, me’ayin yavo ez’ri?” I lift my eyes to the mountains, from where will my help come? For the Psalmist, the answer is that salvation will come from God. Even as a believer in both God and the power of prayer, God in God’s mystery has felt out of reach to me in recent months. Instead, as we enter this new Jewish year and face the anniversary of October 7th, the words of the Psalmist offer us another option: we turn our eyes to the mountains to understand that, perhaps, help will come when we learn the lessons of the climb. While the summit may be shrouded, the pathway obscured, and the journey punishing, there is also the comfort and camaraderie of fellow travelers, the grounding of eternal values, and the clarity of the long-term vision one can achieve once you’ve ascended beyond the clouds to the peak.