Rabbi Harcsztark is the Founding Principal of SAR High School and Dean of Machon Siach honoring the memory of Belda Kaufman Lindenbaum z”l, a research arm of SAR High School. He previously served as Rabbi of Congregation Keter Torah in Teaneck, New Jersey, and as the Associate Principal of Judaic Studies at SAR Academy. He was a Fellow at the Tikvah Center for Law and Jewish Civilization at NYU Law School in 2010-11. He is the recipient of the 2017 Covenant Award for Excellence in Jewish Education.

Leaders Must Ask: What Do Our Kids Need to Know Right Now?

“What do our kids need to know right now?” This question has been central to our work over the past few months. I will share two examples. 

Waging a Just War Justly 

After the atrocities of October 7, the world expressed outrage at the barbarism and butchery of Hamas against innocent civilians. We knew even then that it would take but a few days until the tide would turn and the criticism would be leveled at Israel and the IDF for the intensity of its response. 

And so it was. As Israel began its air raids, I envisioned the things that would be written and said. What, I asked myself, do our students need to know at this time? What issues will arise for our alumni on campus and, by extension, what voices will echo in our own and our high school students’ heads as we read the criticisms of Israel and the IDF that are sure to come from media and governments around the world?

While I pondered these questions, I took a few days to sharpen my understanding of the IDF Code of Ethics. As high school educators, when something needs attention, we must figure out what to tell our students, whether or not it is our area of expertise. Or, more accurately, that is our area of expertise: what to say to high school students when something must be said.  

To better understand the IDF Code, I learned what I could from Tel Aviv University’s Institute for National Security Studies. I also consulted with Moshe Halbertal, one author of Ruach Tzahal, the IDF Code. I then took twelve minutes at one of our schoolwide tefillot to share the basic principles of the Laws of Armed Conflict: necessity, distinctiveness, and proportionality. In those few minutes, we, as a school, were developing a shared language about the IDF’s commitment to the ethics of war. 

We are deeply loyal to the State of Israel and the IDF, but we always need to make sure that our loyalty is informed. We must ensure that we and our students understand the ethical principles that guide the IDF and the expectations that they—and all of us—carry. When we share those principles as a school, we build shared values and culture. We strengthen our collective support for Medinat Yisrael as we root it in principled, knowledgeable loyalty.

That very day, October 17, a missile hit near the Al-Ahli Hospital. We feared that it was an IDF strike and experienced a degree of relief when Israel and the U.S. shared evidence that it was a misfired missile from Palestinian Islamic Jihad. For me, the same question returned: What must we, the educators, say to our students? The next day, in the same schoolwide tefillah slot, I explained how the Torah teaches the importance of valuing life even in the context of war. 

This is the idea in brief: the latter segment of Parshat Shoftim teaches the protocols of war. The unit begins with the drafting of soldiers and the list of those who are exempt from the draft. The Torah describes a Milhemet Reshut (an optional war) and a Milhemet Mitzvah (a mandatory war). The beginning of Parshat Ki Teitzei talks about captives at the end of the war. In the middle, there is an unusual ritual of the ’eglah ’arufah, which is performed when a body is found between cities without clear cause. The elders of the city must ask for atonement (kapparah) and state that they were not actively involved in the death, which raises a glaring question: why is this unit of text placed within a unit on war protocols?

In the midst of teaching about war, the Torah teaches the value of human life. Psychologists describe that in war, because it is not natural for one person to kill another, the mind dehumanizes the enemy. Killing causes people to become desensitized to the value of life, making it difficult to remember that every innocent life is of infinite value. The Torah, in the midst of its teaching on war, reminds the society, and each individual within the society, to focus on the value of every human life.

It is vital to make this point out loud to our students. The death of human beings is catastrophic. Judaism is life affirming at its core and sees every human as created in the image of God. While we are permitted to and must destroy our enemies, we must always feel the loss of human beings who do not deserve to die. If we neglect to state our values, students can easily forget those values or not know that every civilian life is of infinite value even in a time of war.

Developing Shared Vocabulary and Understanding 

As teachers and administrators, we recognize that a communal vocabulary—terms and definitions we articulate clearly for one another—is the foundation on which we build our students’ educations. Especially in a world that promotes distorted misrepresentations, we must maintain this shared language in order to build both shared culture and shared values, allowing us to move forward with our ethical sensibilities intact. We ask what our students need to know right now; we, as educators, learn and deliberate; then we gather our students and share with them the ideas that we would like to hold as a community.

This approach has informed our classroom teaching as well. As we watched our college campuses morally implode, I began to think about our teaching of modern Israel. Over the last seven years, our team invested time and energy, and collaborated with experts, to develop a curriculum that explored the historical events, the military tactics, the personal stories and the psychological impact of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. We also include other complex issues in modern Israeli society such as the secular/religious divide, Mizrachi/Ashkenazi divisions, and the status of Israeli Arabs. The concept of differing narratives informs the curriculum for all of these issues.

Since October 7, we have adapted our curriculum. I have long been opposed to the military analogies for Israel advocacy: We have to arm our students to defend Israel against the attacks of others. I have now come around. For the foreseeable future, I think that those analogies hold. Today, we must fight on the curricular front as well.

We have just added a new segment to our Zionism curricula, one that arms our students with the capacity to defend the IDF against spurious, fashionable criticisms. We and our students need a conceptual framework that ensures our commitments and values in a post-truth world where facts and concepts don’t matter, a world where words like “genocide,” “colonialism” and “apartheid” are used as loose analogies rather than with the precision and weight that such terms demand.

In this new world, our students must be able to respond, both to the voices in their heads and the voices of others, with ethical, moral, and historical clarity. They must learn how to reject the triad, the now lazily accepted charges of colonialism, apartheid, and genocide. Sadly, our students must learn the precise definitions of these terms so that they know why these terms do not describe the State of Israel. We recently piloted a three-pronged curriculum that concentrates on 1) the use and the misuse of these terms, 2) the basic elements of Ruach Tzahal, the IDf ethical code, and 3) the parameters of free speech and antisemitism.

These are dark times. But in the midst of these difficulties, our children are experiencing a revitalized sense of Jewish pride. Asking “What do our kids need to know now?” can help ensure that they have the Jewish confidence to stand up with strength, moral clarity, and conviction.

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Dr. Steven Lorch is the head of school at Kadima Day School in West Hills, California. He received his Ph.D from Columbia University, and his Rabbinic Ordination from Yeshiva University. He also holds a masters in Education from Harvard University Graduate School of Education. 

Head of School as Mourner-in-Chief

Tragic events, whether personal, national, or global, evoke responses which psychologists refer to as stages of grief (after Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s book On Death and Dying). For heads of school, the ways in which we publicly give expression to these inner experiences can sometimes reassure, promote confidence, and help members of our communities cope more productively with the grief that they, too, are experiencing.

Denial 

On October 7, it was easy for me to dismiss the news. There were rumors in synagogue of a terrorist attack in Israel with hundreds of casualties, but because the attack took place too late to be reported in the Saturday newspaper on my doorstep and I don’t use electronic devices on Shabbat, I couldn’t confirm or disconfirm the incoming reports. I was able to delude myself into believing that the scope of the tragedy was probably exaggerated. By Sunday morning, the headlines shook me out of denial.

My first public act: Detachment. Nonresponse. Though I would later feel horror and outrage, for now I was in limbo, unable to emote until the news was verified.

Anger

In the fog of the moment, my ire was aimed everywhere except where it belonged: Hamas. The initial target of my anger was the Israeli government and security establishment. Fifty years after the Yom Kippur War, they had let their guard—our guard—down again. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” I thought.

The object of my anger soon shifted, however. Once I got home from Simchat Torah services, my phone pinged all afternoon with messages from school colleagues. Didn’t they realize that I couldn’t reply? Didn’t they know that school policy prohibits engaging in school business, or communicating about it, on holidays? What life-and-death matter for the school community needed to be addressed right now that couldn’t be addressed five minutes after the holiday ended?!

My public act: Not to give voice to my anger. I addressed the issue of contact on Shabbat and holidays in a leadership team meeting, but not until a month later, long after I’d calmed down. By that time, I also had the presence of mind to make clear that I understood and appreciated their concern, though I hoped that similar concerns could be expressed differently in the future. Together, we restored consensus around the policy.

Bargaining 

Throughout the afternoon of Simchat Torah, I negotiated with myself. Will we really need more security for as long as this crisis continues? Our finances are already stretched. But parents will feel reassured to see additional guards. But our security protection is already excellent, and our campus is a hardened target compared to other schools. But in the unlikely event that there were an incident and I’d done nothing…

My next public act: I called our security consultant in the evening, asked him what he recommended, added more security guards by the following morning per his recommendation, and sent an email blast to the community with an update.

Sadness

Over the next few days, I felt vaguely out of sorts. Yes, we had upped our security. Yes, we had opened school on Monday with an assembly at which we publicly marked our heartache and solidarity. Yes, our teachers and counseling staff were active in supporting our students, parents, and each other. Yes, I was checking in with teachers and parents with close family in Israel. But I felt behind the curve, reactive, not at the top of my game.

This was disconcerting. I contrasted my malaise with how I had felt during Covid. I had known next to nothing about public health in early 2020, and I already knew quite a lot about coping with tragedies in schools. After all, I had sat with my son in a sealed room in Jerusalem in January 1991, sheltering from Scud missiles, and returned to Australia days later to lead my school through that crisis. The school I headed on September 11, 2001, was located five miles north of the Twin Towers. So why did I feel so much better prepared to deal with a pandemic than I did now?!

A brief comment by a colleague at a Prizmah Zoom meetup lifted me out of my doldrums. She said that she was feeling the way she had at the beginning of Covid. “The beginning of Covid!” I thought to myself. “Of course!” I had been comparing my response a few days into the war with my feeling of readiness a year or two into Covid. By that time, I had assembled my team of gurus consultants, and thought partners. Then, sure, I was at the top of my game. But thinking back to the early days of Covid, I was feeling my way in the dark and beating myself up for it, much as I was doing now.

My public act: I thanked my Prizmah colleague and shared with the others on the call the insight her remark had just jolted me into. I also shared my self-forgiveness with colleagues on a DSLTI call a few days later, and with my leadership team colleagues at my school. We all need to show ourselves some compassion.

Acceptance 

I’m not ready for acceptance. We as a people aren’t ready for acceptance—not while hostages are still in captivity, the war rages on, and 1930s-style Jew-hatred stalks the land.

My public act, for now: Even though I may not yet have achieved an inner state of acceptance, I am still called upon to publicly manifest it: I comfort those who have lost loved ones. I support those more directly in harm’s way than I am. I am a compassionate presence for my community. I recite prayers for forgiveness and divine intervention. But I can’t really understand or come to terms with it, because… What is it, anyway?

This moment feels like aninut, the fleeting period between death and burial, which my teacher, Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, in Out of the Whirlwind: Essays on Mourning, referred to as “a howl of grisly horror… a hideous darkness.” But it’s not exactly aninut, either. Rather, we are in an aninut doom loop, an unending dread. 

We don’t know what acceptance will look like because we don’t know what we will ultimately be called upon to accept. We stand before an open grave, but we don’t know whom or what we will eventually need to mourn. For those of us with loved ones on the front lines—in Tzahal, or on embattled college campuses—this fear, this anguish, is literal and visceral.

In the end, we will know with finality which dead we are burying. And then we will perform the most heroic public act of all: reciting Kaddish, the promise of salvation in the face of despair and revulsion. “Yitgadal ve-yitkadash shemeih rabba…

Cheryl is the director of the Day School Leadership Training institute, where she is both an alumna and served as a mentor for cohorts 9-12. She spent 21 years building and strengthening Saul Mirowitz Jewish Community School in St. Louis, Missouri, where she taught for 7 years and served as head of school for 14 years. Cheryl is a recipient of the Fred A. Goldstein Professional Leadership Award, the JPRO Visionary Award, Grinspoon-Steinhardt Award for Excellence in Jewish Education and the Stuart I. Raskas Outstanding Day School Teacher Award. She studied for her B.A. in Jewish and Near Eastern Studies and Education at Washington University in St. Louis. She holds a Masters in Jewish Education and received an honorary doctorate from Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion. She and her husband Jon are the parents of two spectacular day school graduates, Ari and Gabe, and welcomed daughter-in law Emily to the family in 2022.

Leading Through Crisis

In a time of crisis, day school leaders both lay and professional are thrust into the public spotlight. What we say matters. What we don’t say also speaks volumes and will be interpreted. The timing of our communications and the order in which we disseminate them hold meaning and purpose, impacting the sense of worth of our various constituents. In a crisis, leaders barely have a moment to catch our breath before others are looking to us to help frame, contextualize and understand an event. The October 7 attack, the war with Gaza, and the world’s reaction to the war are no exception. 

What you, our day school leaders, have experienced over the past few months is far from normal—and we have seen you exhibit a depth of strength in leading your communities. You have called upon the wisdom of great leadership and drawn strength from your passion for Israel, Jewish identity and learning. You have become educators not only to your own constituents, but also to your non-Jewish colleagues leading independent schools and universities. You have become role models in many ways and should feel proud.

The importance of a strong network, a kehillah for day school leaders, has become more clear than ever. Prizmah schools have looked to one another for guidance on ways to message about the war to our communities, to artfully address the war with students of various ages, and to support our Israeli families and faculty. School leaders have turned to colleagues for thought partnership on handling the hundreds of new Israeli student enrollments and the challenges that come from this unexpected development: providing English language support, bolstering mental health guidance, and navigating our own faculty’s academic expectations. Our kehillah of leaders has been a gift as we find ways to both secure our schools and address the rise in antisemitism for our students and alumni. 

The pressure on you, our day school leaders, is tremendous as you juggle the expectations of parents, faculty, boards. School leaders have coordinated with a large range of internal stakeholders and outside agencies and supporters. You’ve demonstrated an extraordinary ability to pivot, adjust and lead through crisis, just as you did during the Covid-19 pandemic.

As a new member of the Prizmah team, I have a new understanding and respect for the way Prizmah staff jumped into action, curated resources, and carved out space for thought partnership, collaboration and debriefing. Prizmah has been the compass, turning us toward one another, and bringing in expertise from the outside to help us navigate in the dark. Prizmah school leaders have leaned on our Prizmah community for support as each of us is leading through a time of trauma. 

In this issue of Kaleidoscope, you will peek inside the window at a few day school leadership challenges and the approaches that some day schools have taken to lead through this crisis. It is our hope that by highlighting some of the challenges, the progress and successes, that you will hop up onto the balcony and see the leadership of our extraordinary day school field from above. May you go from strength to strength.

Samantha Auerbach is on the Prizmah Board of Directors. Learn more about her here.

Jewish Day Schools: The Light In The Dark

Chanukkah has always been my favorite holiday. It is a joyful, magical time, allowing eight full days and nights to spend time with friends and family, playing games, singing around the table, enjoying latkes and sufganiot, and offering gifts to the people we love for the sole purpose of bringing them light. Indeed, Chanukkah commemorates the brave tale of the vastly outnumbered Maccabees who recaptured the Temple and relit the menorah. A vial of pure oil sufficient to burn one day burned for eight days straight – a miracle of light. As such, every year when the days get shorter and colder and Chanukkah approaches, I find myself quietly taking stock of my surroundings and asking myself where I can find my own modern miracles of light. I never have to look very far.

As a mother of four sons who are either current or past Jewish day school students, and as a former Jewish day school student and educator myself, I am well-versed in the often-touted virtues of day schools. These include everything from the academic rigor that emerges from a simultaneously robust secular and Jewish studies curriculum, to Hebrew fluency, to a deep-seated dedication to tikkun olam, repairing the world–all of which are worthy and valuable reasons to invest in Jewish day schools and would be entirely sufficient on their own. However, what our schools cannot possibly fully illustrate with words is the essence of the human beings that Jewish day schools and Jewish day schools alone can help create, inspire and nurture.  

Jewish day school students are curious, critical thinkers, dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge. They are sensitive, empathetic individuals, devoted to social justice and to righting the world’s innumerable wrongs. They have a unique moral compass, guided by the Jewish values of kindness, righteousness, and compassion. Day school students and alumni are nothing short of beacons of light. And, just because they may be small in size does not mean they are any less impactful; after all, a room full of darkness is drastically changed by even the smallest of flames.

Perhaps most powerful in this particular moment, Jewish day school students are steeped in a deep love of Israel, a love that is inextricably bound to their Judaism and thus to the fundamental core of their being. In a world that now feels exceptionally dark, this pure love of Israel is apparent to me on a daily basis in the halls of our schools, from the early childhood students waving their Israeli flags as they sing Hatikvah, to the lower school students welcoming in new Israeli families who may be joining them for a few weeks or even a few months in search of a wartime respite, to the middle and upper school students weeping as they listen to the testimony of survivors of the 10/7 attacks who are their exact age and in whom they see themselves. 

Now more than ever, we must invest in Jewish day schools to provide our kids–our Jewish future– with the knowledge, the tools, and the pure and simple ahavat Israel that will empower them to step into their larger communities and shout it from the rooftops. Indeed, we light Chanukkah candles by a door or window – exits to our home – because it is not enough to light up our own lives; we must share with others what we know to be good. Our Jewish day school students do just that; they are warriors of light. If the lesson of Chanukkah is that we all have the ability to add light to the darkness, that starts with our Jewish day school students; they are our greatest hope.

Rachel is Prizmah's Director of Educational Innovation. Learn more about her here.

Seven Things School Leaders Can Do Now to Support The Wellness of Your School

During this time of crisis, school leaders are juggling so much more than usual, and your usual is already too full. To help lighten your load, I have researched and compiled a list of seven things that you can do now to make a positive difference in your schools. Thank you for all you do to lead with dignity during uncertain times.

Tip #1: At The Door 

So many school leaders have adopted the lovely custom of standing outside the school to welcome students as they enter the building in the morning, and especially now, making sure you are visible at the door establishes trust and safety. Many school leaders have started to get to faculty meetings ten minutes early so they can stand outside the door and welcome each staff member as they enter, a gesture that carries tremendous warmth and caring. This extra ten minutes is challenging to carve into our already busy schedules; assistance from office staff and administrators is key to making this work.

As we navigate the very real fears of this time, finding the balance between being cautious and not frozen, productive and not debilitating, is what Steven Covey calls “managing your weather” and is essential in establishing the feeling in the building. Some school leaders have found that making sure they have daily 15 minute office hours for staff to drop in has proven very meaningful. In fact, even on days when few staff appear for this open-door time, just knowing they have this option has been helpful to staff.

Tip #2: Pick One 

Right now, making sure staff and students are safe and available to learn is step one. Step two is being clear about what matters. Pick one thing. Make sure your priority is clear and how it will be measured. 

Jenn David-Lang writes about how school leaders must focus our priorities. For example, let’s say your priority right now is belonging. What does that look like to you? What might be less important now? How do you communicate it with your staff? Or perhaps you want to prioritize routine as a way of creating normalcy; what matters now and what matters less? 

Be clear with yourself, your teams and staff about why this is your priority now, and assess your adherence to it over the days and weeks. Many school leaders find that choosing the priority, ensuring there are values connected to it, and being clear about what it looks like in practice has alleviated much stress for staff and students alike.

Tip #3: Listen

Often, we invite people to share not because we need the information (though we often learn a great deal) but because they need to be heard. This investment in listening time is so crucial to establishing trust and safety. 

Many school leaders have rallied their leadership teams to make personal calls to each person on staff, to check in and listen. Some leaders are establishing “tag out” opportunities for staff. A school leader takes over a class for ten minutes while the teacher leaves the room, maybe for a coffee or news break. This takes the place of classroom observations for the month and also gives students face time with you as a school leader. Make sure you let the staff know your plan and what you will be doing with the students during that time. Letting staff know when you plan to come is key, so they can plan accordingly, and make sure your office staff knows this is a priority so you can’t be disturbed then.

In addition to making time for staff, many school leaders are creating opportunities to check in with alumni, parents and Israeli families, including those with children and loved ones serving in the IDF. These meet ups are so important and powerful. It is important for the leadership team to have an opportunity to reflect on these meetings and share among themselves. It is also essential for leaders to make time for themselves to be listened to and to check in with personal family members. As an aside, check out Kate Murphy’s book You’re Not Listening for fascinating tips on this crucial skill.

Tip #4: Be Like Broccoli 

As Rae Ringel observed, leadership is like broccoli, providing a fractal model that shows what to do by example. What we do is what others will do. If we want our teachers to be extra patient, to call parents more, to take care of themselves, to communicate about what they need, then we need to model that ourselves. For example, if differentiation is important to you as a leader, how do you differentiate your faculty meetings and communications?

At Prizmah, we strive to share common language. As a small example, if we have a day when our office is closed, we are given language for our out of office message. In schools, many arguments can be diverted and de-escalated by finding the right words that leaders can share with staff. For example, what is a sentence staff can use when parents are angry or concerned now? What is a sentence staff can use when there is a change in plans? How can a staff member ask for help? I have worked with a few schools that used faculty meetings to practice some of these scenarios, which were received with positive feedback.

One more model that is key: the pause. The more you take time in conversation to think, to pause and offer to get back to people (and then do!), the better your school community will be able to follow your lead.

Tip #5: Zone Defense

We may not be able to anticipate every scenario that will come up now, or even who may need support or a pivot in plan, so I recommend creating leadership teams with a “zone defense” approach. Let me explain. When I played basketball in high school, we often used a zone defense, which means you are in charge of defending the area in your “zone” and you can always call for help when needed. 

Now more than ever, making sure you have a leadership team in place is essential, and ensuring that they and the school community know who to go to for what is a game changer. That being said, we cannot always know what will be needed, so operating with a team mentality that each person will cover his or her zone and we will all step in to support one another is key. How do we talk about Israel? How do we talk about fear? How do we allow people to feel what they feel and still keep routine? Often when a crisis hits, we may get territorial, resentful and confused, so re-establishing what is working now and who the right people are for specific concerns and needs is very helpful. Making sure you check in with this team is also essential to ensuring its effectiveness.

In addition to our regular teams, many leaders are including local rabbis and community resource personnel in their teams at this time. For many, including more helpful voices can be supportive, and for some, it makes leading more complicated, so if it works to expand the circle now, do so with clear guidelines about what this team of support is included in.

One more kind of team that is worth the extra investment is the parent body. In particular, let them know how they can communicate effectively with the school and with one another about policies and even about social media. It may be helpful to have a team of parent liaisons you meet with, especially now, to listen and share.

Tip #6: Space Out 

Our buildings provide spaces for us to teach even before we open our mouths. Even for schools struggling to find space for basic class needs, getting creative about how we use space is very helpful during stressful times. 

Many schools have made “time out zones’' for staff to decompress, a quiet place to unwind and eat, with a no-noise rule. Other schools have created a newsroom for the staff to keep updated on events in Israel and have a place to listen and talk. Parents may also need a space to talk and be there for one another that is not in the presence of children. Leaders have even designated a room for people to attend their personal therapy sessions without needing to miss more school driving to and from the session. Offering a place to go is a great source of comfort to the people in the school community, even if they do not use this resource.

Tip #7: Checklist for Check-ins 

What does trauma look like for people at different ages? For people with ADD? When should we be concerned and when is a reaction “normal”? There are checklists available, like this one, from the National Education Association. Using your own checklist for student and staff support is a great idea, and providing faculty professional development training  in identifying red flags can help.

Another area to consider: How do we talk about Israel for different developmental stages? What are we doing and not doing for each age group? For some, writing a list of things to remember, including approaches and even specific language, is so helpful. Keep that handy.

In addition to using a checklist for making sure everyone else is ok, I have also started my own checklist for myself. What matters to me as a leader right now? What is important to me? Before meetings and lessons, I try to check in with myself to find my center and try to get in the space of being who I want to be at this crucial time.

I hope this list is helpful and gives you practical ways to support yourself and others as you lead during this time. I welcome your suggestions for other such tips. Above all, thank you for all you do to lead, inspire and educate our children and communities. May we be blessed with good news.

Paul is Prizmah’s founding Chief Executive Officer. Learn more about Paul here.

85 Years After Kristallnacht, Building a Stronger Jewish Future

On the eve of the 85th anniversary of Kristallnacht, I enter the gates, pass the guards and walk through the corridors of Buckingham Palace, a place oozing with history and the grandeur of Great Britain’s Royal Family. An institution that for centuries led an empire in which Jewish existence was fragile and marginalized is not only embracing, but honoring members of the Jewish community for their contributions. King Charles III’s first New Years Honors List following his Coronation in 2022 included the Chief Rabbi and other members of the Jewish community, and today it is my mother’s turn to be honored. Holocaust survivor Yvonne Bernstein received the MBE award for her impactful work in Holocaust education and remembrance.
 
Born in Germany and aged just a year and a half when Kristallnacht happened in 1938, Yvonne’s life changed forever. She was separated from her parents for six years and survived in Paris, spending part of World War II as a hidden child. After the War ended, Yvonne was reunited with her parents in England, appreciating the embrace of a new home, building a career as a teacher, raising children, followed by grandchildren, and soon, God willing, a first great grandchild due to be born in Israel–our homeland. 
 
In January 2020, Kate, Princess of Wales and Britain’s future Queen, released two portraits she had photographed of Holocaust survivors, including my mother, Yvonne. Her million Instagram followers and others witnessed her elevation of Jewish history and her recognition of current and future Jewish life. In 2021, Kate made more news when she hugged my mum and Steven Frank, the other survivor she photographed, as she opened the exhibition at the Imperial War Museum honoring the survivors and their families. In December 2022, my mother sat in the gallery of the House of Commons, as the Prime Minister, Leader of the Opposition and all of Parliament stood in silence to commemorate the 80th anniversary of the first condemnation of the mass murder of Jews by the British Prime Minister in 1942. It is a remarkable turn of history, that a young refugee and survivor might one day be honored by royalty on the eve of the Kristalnacht anniversary.
 
And yet, it is a stereotypical wet and windy autumnal day in London, the gray clouds perhaps a metaphor for dark times. We live in a time of fear and growing antisemitism affecting Jews worldwide, fuelled by an acute sense of isolation rupturing decades of progress and integration in the post-Holocaust world. In the US, on college campuses, in workplaces, and in schools, Jews feel unsafe due to the sharp rise in antisemitism and the vocal hatred of Jews being expressed in what were formerly considered safe spaces. The Jewish community wonders why their friends and colleagues are shunning them for being Jewish and standing up for Israel.The growth in attacks on Jews in recent years, the horror of the October 7 massacre killing more Jews in a single day than at any time since the Holocaust, and the wave of antisemitism that followed leave us fearing for our future.
 
Should we despair in the face of Dara Horn’s prescient words, believing “People Love Dead Jews”? Writing before October 7, Deborah Lipstadt, US Special Envoy to Monitor and Combat Antisemitism, articulated a powerful recipe to overcome the pessimism that growing antisemitism might bring: the best way to combat antisemitism is from a positive place: “We must be motivated far more by our love for the insights, wisdom and joy embedded in Jewish culture than by the fight against those who harbor an insane hatred of it.”
 
Jewish day schools in North America have felt the sting of this crisis in countless ways. They are, once again, at the core of their communities providing safe spaces for students and their families, standing up for Israel, welcoming Israelis seeking refuge for their children from the war, delivering deep secular and Jewish learning, and supporting alumni who are leaders of Jewish life on campus and in business, or fighting for our country as volunteers in the Israeli Army. 
 
The formula that Lipstadt prescribes is what our schools are doing; we spread love to combat hate. Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, z”l focuses on education as the centerpiece of how Jews have survived for millennia: “To defend a country, you need an army. But to defend a civilisation, you need schools.” Combating antisemitism is, indeed, best done through education, awareness, and connection to the world around us. According to Rabbi Sacks: “We work for these things in our Jewish schools. We give our children confidence in who they are, so that they can handle change without fear and keep learning through a lifetime… Schools are about more than what we know and what we can do. They are about who we are and what we must do to help others become what they might be. The world our children will inherit tomorrow is born in the schools we build today.”

As I reflect on this great honor bestowed on my mother, I wonder about the future of the Jewish community. I am shattered by all that has been taken from us in the past month, and yet I know that proud, educated Jewish children are going to lead us into a strong Jewish future, as they have throughout the generations.

Laurie is a Prizmah board member. Learn more about her here.

Blue Diamond Spotlight: Laurie Hasten

For Prizmah board member Laurie Hasten and her husband, Bernard, the Jewish future depends on strong Jewish day schools. “Day schools ensure Jewish continuity through education; our schools enable children to connect to their heritage, love Israel, and understand their responsibility to the Jewish community,” she said. As a day school graduate herself, Laurie appreciates the value her parents placed on Jewish day schools and the example they set for her own leadership. “Both mine and my husband’s families were very involved in Jewish education,” she said. “As the grandchild of Holocaust survivors, I knew my whole life the importance of Jewish education and community.”

Especially at times of communal crisis such as now, being part of a responsive community is a core value of Jewish day schools. Even after her “five years of a two-year term” as board chair of Hillel Torah day school in Skokie, IL, and with a granddaughter now in kindergarten at the school Laurie maintains a deep relationship with the school. “My kids have graduated, but I haven’t yet!” she admitted. “Hillel Torah is still my favorite place to celebrate Yom HaAtzmaut, and I go back every year to daven with the kids.”

Laurie has been called a “model lay leader,” developing close relationships with the head of school and leading from within. As Prizmah was established and grew in its influence, Laurie witnessed and experienced just how valuable it became to school professional and lay leaders. “Prizmah’s bandwidth and both the quantity and quality of resources are appreciated deeply by schools, all of which are facing complex challenges.  When I was invited to join the board two years ago, it was a true honor,” she said.

“What day schools provide to children and families—a sense of connection at their own level—is similar to what Prizmah provides the field,” said Laurie. “Prizmah meets schools where they are and advocates for the impact all schools are targeting: a strong and vibrant Jewish future.”

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Laurie Hasten and Family
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