The Jewish Future Isn’t Just Something We Hope For. It’s Something We Build.
We have become very good at talking about what threatens the Jewish future. We count antisemitic incidents, worry about the safety of our synagogues, and wonder whether our children and grandchildren will feel the same connection to Jewish life that generations before them have cherished. These concerns are real, and we cannot afford to ignore them. But lately, I have found myself thinking about a different question. What if we spent as much energy celebrating and building Jewish life as we do worrying about losing it?
Through my work with Jewish Future Promise, I have had the privilege of learning about people who are answering that question in their own remarkable ways. Their stories, shared through our In the Spotlight series, have reminded me that Jewish continuity isn’t something we can simply assume will happen. It grows through the choices we make, the traditions we embrace, and the values we pass along.
One of those stories belongs to Debra Weinberg, whose commitment to Jewish communal leadership was shaped by generations of family involvement. Her experience illustrates something I have come to appreciate more deeply as a grandmother: the extraordinary influence we have on the generations that follow us.
Our grandchildren may not remember every lesson we try to teach them, but they remember how we make them feel. They remember the warmth of a holiday gathering, the stories shared around the dinner table, and the joy of being surrounded by family and community. I see this in my own life. Being Jewish is not something I reserve for holidays or moments of crisis. It is woven into my relationships with family and friends, into our celebrations, our conversations, and the traditions that bring us together. I want my grandchildren to experience Judaism not only as something important, but as something beautiful, joyful, and deeply meaningful.
That is how belonging takes root.
Eric and Shoshana Farbman offer another example. They have made Jewish education, Shabbat traditions, philanthropy, and community service intentional parts of their family life. Their commitment is not defined by one extraordinary gesture, but by the consistency of everyday choices. There is a lesson in that for all of us. We sometimes think about Jewish continuity in sweeping terms: the future of our people, the survival of our traditions, the responsibility of one generation to the next. But often, it begins with something as simple as making time for Shabbat dinner, sharing a family story, volunteering together, or helping a child understand why supporting the Jewish community matters. These experiences do more than preserve traditions. They create memories, relationships, and a sense of belonging that children can carry into adulthood.
I am equally moved by the story of Bernie and Joan White, who have involved their children in conversations about philanthropy and the family’s legacy. What makes their approach meaningful is not simply the decision to give, but the decision to include the next generation in understanding why they give. They are passing along more than financial resources. They are sharing a sense of responsibility and inviting their children to make it their own. That distinction matters. A legacy is not only what we leave behind. It is what we inspire others to continue.
These stories are different, but they share a common thread. Each family has found a way to make Jewish identity an active, meaningful part of life rather than something left to chance. And that brings me to something I believe we need to remember, particularly now. Protecting Jewish life and celebrating Jewish life are not competing priorities. We need both.
Our history has taught us resilience. We have survived persecution, displacement, and unimaginable loss. Today, as antisemitism continues to challenge Jewish communities, defending our people and institutions remains essential. But I don’t want my grandchildren to grow up believing that being Jewish is defined primarily by the threats we face. I want them to know the laughter around a holiday table. The pride of learning our history. The beauty of our traditions. The connection to Israel and to Jewish communities around the world. The fulfillment that comes from helping others and belonging to something larger than themselves. I want them to understand not only what generations of Jews endured, but what those generations created. Because if we want young people to carry Jewish life forward, we must give them a Jewish life they love being part of.
That doesn’t require extraordinary wealth, a leadership position, or a dramatic commitment. It begins in our homes and communities, in the everyday moments when we choose to make our values visible. And it is a responsibility we can all share. So, I would like to leave you with one simple invitation. This week, choose one Jewish tradition, story, or experience to share with someone from the next generation. Invite a grandchild to Shabbat dinner. Tell your children a story about their grandparents. Bring a young person to a community celebration. Whatever you choose, make it personal, meaningful, and joyful.
Because the Jewish future isn’t built only through the institutions we support or the causes we defend. It is built through the connections we create and the love of Jewish life we pass forward.
The greatest Jewish legacy we can leave is a Jewish life the next generation wants to live.
