July 14, 2026

Of the many things I adore about being here is the opportunity to discern for myself. Everyone seems so certain—certain that they understand Israel, the conflict, the politics, the people. And those certainties are reinforced by the silos, bubbles, and algorithms in which we all live. I try not to fall into that trap, though I know I do at times. Here, however, I keep my eyes and ears open, listening to as many voices as I can, asking far more questions than I answer (I know some of you would appreciate a bit more of that from me back home😊).

One of Lauren’s oldest friends (whom I also adore) joined us with her partner and daughter for Shabbat dinner at Joel and Gail’s. As always, Joel and Gail somehow prepared an incredible multi-course meal while simultaneously caring for three energetic grandchildren. I was curious to watch the conversation unfold because Joel and Lauren’s friend are both brilliant, opinionated people. She has spent her adult life in high-level political positions and has become far more politically moderate in recent years. Joel remains firmly on the Israeli Left. What unfolded was hopeful. They challenged one another, asked genuine questions, admitted when they didn’t understand something, and learned from each other. Neither changed the other’s mind, but both walked away wiser. In today’s world, that feels almost radical.

It reminded me that we all have filters. We need them. But every so often we should clean them off to make sure we’re seeing as clearly as possible. Letting go of certainty can be uncomfortable, but sometimes that discomfort is exactly what growth requires.

Some moments about Shabbat worth sharing:

This past spring, during one of my bi-monthly visits with the TBJ Kindergarten, the children told me they had written notes to God for their pretend Western Wall. I told them they didn’t need to pretend. Lauren and I would bring their prayers to the real Kotel—and we did. I prayed for them, for so many who asked me to pray on their behalf, and for all of you, whether you asked or not. I also said Kaddish for… See the attached videos. It was deeply meaningful for us, and I hope it will be for them as well.

A new café recently opened in central Jerusalem, tucked away in a small alleyway. It is open on Shabbat. There are a few places like this in Jerusalem, but not many in such a central location. That sparked an outpouring of protests from some in the ultra-Orthodox community—tables overturned, shouting, shoving, and acts of violence. I deeply respect the right of Orthodox Jews to observe Shabbat as they choose. My own life has been profoundly shaped by Orthodoxy in many meaningful ways. But I also respect the right of secular Israelis to celebrate their day of rest as they choose. So, this past Shabbat, one week after the confrontation, we went for coffee there. The line stretched out the door. People were certainly there for the coffee, but many were also there to stand in solidarity with the owners. More than fifty police officers and soldiers surrounded the café to ensure there wouldn’t be a repeat of the previous week. Sure enough, protesters arrived again, attempting to push their way inside. They shouted “Shabbos!” and “Violators of Shabbat should perish!” It wasn’t frightening so much as heartbreaking, although there was something unsettling in the intensity of their eyes. I couldn’t help thinking what a unfortunate use of soldiers, who should be protecting Israel from external threats. Yet this, too, is part of Israel’s reality—an internal struggle that receives far less attention because of the wars surrounding it. It is a conflict that also deserves our attention and our hope. And then came a small moment of grace. As we were leaving, a Modern Orthodox woman arrived carrying cake and coffee for the soldiers, wanting to make sure they were cared for while protecting all of us. I thanked several of the soldiers as we left. They smiled warmly and thanked us in return.

As Shabbat came to a close, we traveled to spend time with our dear friends from Kibbutz Nir Oz. Our relationship began because of the devastation of October 7, but now it is becoming something much deeper: friendship. Children ran everywhere. We talked about sports, food, movies, everyday life. Yet beneath every conversation is unimaginable loss. Missing parents. Missing children. Former hostages who now speak with remarkable openness about what they endured—stories that aren’t mine to repeat. They have become family to us. In fact, they have already prepared a room for Talia whenever she comes to visit. I continue to be humbled by their resilience. Resilience can be more contagious than hatred. I believe that with all my heart. We as a TBJ community are privileged to be connected so deeply with them. Neither they nor we take that relationship for granted.

I know, no brevity again. I am sorry!

My final story comes from yesterday on the West Bank. Joel volunteers weekly with Protective Presence, one of roughly 1,000 volunteers who accompany peaceful Bedouin and Palestinian communities vulnerable to harassment by small groups of radical settlers.

I am not naïve. I know Palestinian terrorism exists in the West Bank. These were not terrorists. These are families trying to live quietly. These radical settlers (a small, but growing number, especially with the current Minister of Police, who turns a blind eye to the violence) attempt to take their herd of sheep (like 150) and run roughshod through the small village. At its worst, a few months ago because the Bedouins tried to stop them from coming through, the radicals shot three of them. Thank God, they all survived. The radicals were arrested and released within 4 hours. And so, six of us sit in a hot semi covered area and wait for the couple of times the above would inevitably happen. Now, you might ask how 3 men in their 60’s and three women, two in their 50’s and one woman 82(!!!) can help stop this. Well, when a rabbi, doctor, teacher, or frankly a Jewish adult shows up at the fence and stand defiantly, the radicals will stare us down, beat their clubs in their hands, but generally will not go further because they know if we call the police, they will respond because we are who we are in life. They must protect us and so in effect, will are then able to protect those with whom we stand. I won’t say that I wasn’t a bit anxious, but I also felt steadfast about what we were doing. Nothing more than a stare down took place, but the glazed, angry, violent eyes of this young man in his twenties I will never forget. We tried to talk to him and ask him about his intentions. He would offer a word or two, but nothing of substance. He videoed us, beat his stick in his hand, stared hard, giggled an impinging and pedantic laugh; and then finally he moved on. In the many hot hours out there, the six of us also argued about politics, life and love. I also got to learn Torah! Yes, by chance the former Provost and still professor at the Hebrew Union College, happened to volunteer the same time. He lovingly shared teaching with Joel and me. We debated also and laughed and got closer to each other from the experience.

I don’t think I have to prove my Zionist credentials. I will always advocate privately and publicly about my steadfast support for Israel. I am as Zionist as I am in love with Lauren, my kids and TBJ. And part of my steadfast support and love is fighting against a trend that if continues to grow will diminish the core of what Israel was created to be. I will support every fight to defeat any enemy, but we cannot permit terror from within. All of that is intellectual and spiritual honesty. All of that is Zionism. Take that to the encampments on the college campus. Take that to the newly elected anti-Zionist candidates for congress in NYC!

Construction seems to occupy half the streets of Jerusalem as the city builds its much-needed light rail expansion. It is noisy, dusty, and wonderfully chaotic. At many intersections, temporary traffic attendants stand for hours in the blazing heat. One of them, however, was sitting in what could only be described as an overstuffed living-room chair. Clearly, some neighborhood resident had carried it from home so he could be comfortable while directing pedestrians.

Only in Israel.

Not as many pictures this time. But a few to correspond to the writing. Thank you so much for caring to read and travel with me. I hope it gives you a taste of what I am experiencing.