The award went to J. reporter Emma Goss and Jewfolk’s Editor-in-Chief Lonny Goldsmith for the show Such A Match. The series featured couples with truly remarkable love stories, and life stories, which all share one thing in common – the way they met: Through an ad or article in J. The Jewish News of Northern California.

The comment from the judge read: “I love the concept of this podcast and the human stories that it picks up. It is almost the diametric opposite of the first place one in terms of scope and style but also presents some of the best opportunities of the podcast genre.”

Listen to Such A Match here or wherever you get your podcast.

Listen to “Such A Match” on Spreaker.

Subscribe: Apple Podcast | Spotify | iHeart | Amazon

See the list of the other winners from the Rockower Awards here.

The post Jewfolk, J. Weekly Share Podcasting Honor At Jewish Journalism Awards appeared first on TC Jewfolk.

“The Minnesota JCC is committed to expanding our Israel engagement and impact in the community, and we are excited to be doing that through a full-time shlicha who can be here to help us bring Israeli culture and an Israeli perspective to our programming to the community,” said Andrea Golden, the senior director of Jewish life and learning at the Minnesota JCC. “From the very beginning [of our conversations], it was clear that she brings warmth, passion, and a deep commitment to building meaningful connections between our community and Israel.”

Elinor, the shlicha, will be joining the Minnesota JCC in August. She accepted the position following an interview process that included conversations with JCC staff, community partners, and Leah Garber, JCC Association’s senior vice president of Israel engagement and the director general of the Center for Israel Engagement in Jerusalem.

“Elinor is amazing, and I’m excited for everyone to be able to meet her and to see that,” Golden said. “She has a lot of wonderful experience with children, and we were looking for someone who has passion about making connections between Israel and our community.”

Elinor will be in the new Ulpanon Hebrew Language Preschool classroom at HaLev Early Childhood at the JCC. She’ll also be involved in other engagement, learning, and Israel programs at the Minnesota JCC.

“It’s a JCC position, but we’re excited at opportunities to partner, and the shlicha will be involved in community programs,” Golden said. The role will complement existing Israel engagement efforts, which include the JCC’s ongoing partnership with the St. Paul Jewish Federation’s longstanding shlichut program. ”We are fortunate to have the St. Paul Shaliach as a valued partner in our Israel programming, and Elinor’s role will add to our current Israel engagement opportunities.”

The Jewish Agency for Israel places shlichim with organizations all over the world. They say that more than 10,000 Israelis apply to be shlichim each year.

“JAFI is the organization that helps identify and place shlichim in our programs,” Golden said. “So it could be a year-long program, or it could be summer shlichim that we’ll have at Camp Butwin and Camp Olami. That’s another way we’re bringing Israel directly to our programming.

“We were looking for someone with certain specific qualifications. We were really excited to find someone who wanted to bring her background in youth and [also] be extremely excited about what that looks like for additional engagement outside of the classroom as well.”

The post Minnesota JCC To Bring In First Shlicha This Summer appeared first on TC Jewfolk.

Dear Miriam, 

I have a friend who is making a life decision with which I disagree. I’m not trying to change my friend’s mind or even really offer support. What I’m looking for is ideas on how I can move past my own frustration and disappointment in order to accept that this is not my decision to make. How do I get there? 

Signed, 

Frustrated Friend

Dear Friend, 

Alas, the world is full of people going about their lives in ways that each of us considers suboptimal. Who among us hasn’t had such thoughts? If only she would listen to me, things would work out. If only he realized my way was right all along. If only I was in charge, everything would be better. But you know, and I know, that’s not how things work, whether on the micro level with a friend or colleague or family member, or on the national or global stage.

Your friend’s choices are almost definitely not about you, so do everything in your power not to take them personally. If you want to continue to be friends, explore conversational topics that have nothing to do with the situation at hand. Practice separating who your friend is from the decisions they’re making, and practice separating who you are as a person and friend from the judgment you feel so deeply. 

Go outside. Take a walk. Read a book. Listen to a podcast. Watch a movie. Bake bread. Introduce yourself to a neighbor or reach out to a neighbor who knows nothing of your current frustrations. There are a thousand ways to distract yourself, to engage in experiences that validate you, and to find little pockets of things that feel right to you, even when your friend’s actions feel wrong.

Consider journaling about your feelings to release them from inside your brain. Scream into the void. Talk to a clergy person or mentor or therapist if you need some in-person real-time confirmation that your feelings matter. But also remember that your feelings don’t matter too much, because this isn’t about you, really. In a week or a month or a year, perhaps you will find your way to supporting your friend. Prioritize yourself in the meantime, try not to burn any bridges, and dismiss the idea that, sometime in the future, it might feel good to say “I told you so.” That kind of thinking will bring you no relief, but resolving to give yourself a real break from thinking about the situation might.

Be well, 

Miriam 

The post Do I Tell My Friend They’re Making A Bad Life Choice? appeared first on TC Jewfolk.

I never missed an opportunity to vote, but I also, out of trust and faith in the party, never got involved in all of the events that happen before the ballot in November. 

Then one day, a friend invited me to meet with her and talk about starting a Jewish caucus because she had been working on the Jews for Joe Biden, then Jews for Kamala Harris campaigns, and had experienced multiple examples of discrimination of Jews and silencing or bulldozing within that process. 

So I joined. Since February, I’ve attended caucuses, conventions, committee meetings, Zoom calls, and countless planning sessions. What I’ve learned is that participation at this level requires enormous time and energy—something many people simply don’t have.

What I have discovered through all of these events is that the people who are willing to do this and make the space for this in their lives have to be motivated by something profoundly personal and important to them. I would say that for a big chunk of them, their cause is, or has become, part of their identity. For members of JCOO, being Jewish is our actual identity. In the past, my identity was not under threat, so I was content with simply voting.

I truly admired people who took on causes dear to them; for example, I was thrilled to see my dear Doula, who helped my son enter the world, who I know has been working hard for decades to increase access for birthing mothers to Doula support in hospitals. Her beautiful life’s work is central to who she is, and her passion is unstoppable.

The glaring, painful problem I am seeing now is that activists who have inextricably linked the anti-Israel campaign to whatever their issue may be, as if their identity, sense of belonging, and success in life, is dependent on crushing Israel. This campaign is loud, intimidating, and is bulldozing its way into every nook and cranny of MN DFL politics.

My entrance to this weekend was, in a word, insane. As I was walking from the hotel to the Mayo Civic Center in Rochester, I was chatting with a person, mostly about the inequity of how completely inaccessible this process is for most people who have responsibilities, children, work.

And I told them I was here with the Jewish caucus, and they said, “Oh I’m Jewish!“ I said, “Cool!” and we kept chatting until we got onto the block of Civic Center, where I could see and hear a demonstration with fiery hot intensity, Palestinian flags and a bullhorn. I started filming. Within moments, the person I was walking with stopped talking to me and started chanting with the protesters, as we walked the rest of the way. We never spoke the rest of the weekend again.

I had no choice but to be physically drowning in this protest for what felt like forever, because they were engulfing the line to enter the building. And it was all I could do to keep it together as I was thinking about my friends, my family, my Montessori colleagues in Israel, and all the children that they serve, juxtaposed with this white-hot hatred and unwavering commitment to destruction of the place that I love so much. When I finally made it to our table in the Civic Center, I burst into tears. I have seen those protests countless times before, but I’ve never been forced to stand in the middle of them like that for an extended period.

I sat at our table until close to midnight, and about 14 hours the next day. I had good, hard, sometimes spirited, and thoughtful conversations with so many people. Some good, some bad, some very ugly.

One of the silver linings was meeting Jewish people from places like Duluth, Rochester, and St. Cloud, and growing our group to represent Jewish people across the state. One of the hardest parts was watching activists who literally know just enough to be dangerous try to undermine, run out the clock, and, in their words, “make good trouble“ by being disruptors and, again, bulldoze their way to get what they want.

I watched candidates navigate a process where anti-Israel rhetoric often seemed like the price of admission. It helped me understand why some candidates, including Angie Craig, chose not to seek the endorsement. The political calculations required can be exhausting to watch.

The older generation, like my Doula friend, are watching this process, seeing what is happening to it, and asking the same questions. How can we get back on track?

All of this is just from the exhibitor hall. Here is a tiny example of what I know was happening on the floor. More than 100 resolutions were proposed for the DFL platform. We tracked several that directly affect the Jewish community, including one framed as a First Amendment issue but widely understood as an effort to advance BDS-related goals. The language was subtle enough that many delegates likely wouldn’t recognize its implications without significant background knowledge.

I give an enormous amount of credit to the members of our group that spent their weekend not at a lovely exhibitor’s table full of meaningful conversations, but stuck in the lion’s den of the actual convention: reading between the (not so subtle) lines, constantly being on the defense, watching the manipulation of the system, having to listen to people disparage Israel and watch the crowd jump to their feet in applause.

As I was walking to the hotel to get in my car and drive away from this mess, I overheard two other convention goers say, “This is a lot to expect of a human.“ I couldn’t agree more.

The post The Good, Bad, and Very Ugly at the DFL Convention appeared first on TC Jewfolk.

Listen to “Irina Vaynerman” on Spreaker.

Please subscribe to the Podcast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Stitcher, and more, and don’t forget to rate and review. Check out the show page where you can catch up on previous episodes. And of course, if you have suggestions for others who would be great subjects, let us know!

The post Who The Folk?! Irina Vaynerman appeared first on TC Jewfolk.

“From Synagogue to Church: A Shared North Side Story” is taking place at the church/former synagogue site (810 Elwood Ave. N.) on May 31 from 3-5 p.m. This year marks the 100th anniversary of the building, which was first built as an Orthodox synagogue.

“Let’s celebrate the fact that nationally, the Secretary of the Interior has recognized that this building has national historical importance,” said Marilyn Chiat, an art and architectural historian, who, along with Jeanne Halgren Kilde, the director of religious studies at the University of Minnesota, co-authored the application for the building to be on the national registry. “So let’s celebrate both congregations: The ones who built it and decorated it and worshiped in it and the Black congregation that has been great stewards of it for the last 70 years.”

The event is co-sponsored by the Upper Midwest Jewish Archives at the University of Minnesota Libraries, First Church of God in Christ, Beth El Synagogue, Jewish Historical Society of the Upper Midwest, and Adath Jeshurun Congregation.

Kate Dietrick, the archivist at the Upper Midwest Jewish Archives, had been introduced to the building by Chiat, and then made it part of a YALA Twin Cities bus tour of historically significant Jewish sites.

“These were young adults [on the tour] who … had heard about the Jewish ties to North Minneapolis, but didn’t fully understand them, and also didn’t really fully understand the relationship between the Jewish community and the Black community,” said Dietrick. “And so we’re in this space that used to be a synagogue, but is now a Black church, and this was very interesting to them, these connections and that shared history of space.”

Through mergers and moves over the years after the building opened in 1926, it eventually became B’nai Emet, which later merged with Adath Jeshurun. Beth El is involved, said JHSUM director Robin Doroshow, because that congregation was founded on the North Side. 

The building was built in 1926 atop one of the few hills in North Minneapolis, fulfilling a Jewish tradition that a house of worship should have the highest roof in the neighborhood. 

In 1932, the interior was restored after a fire of “unknown origin,” Chiat said. The redecoration featured trompe l’oeil (“deceive the eye”) motifs and zodiac images, patterned after synagogue decoration in the immigrant congregation’s homeland.

“There have been zodiac images in synagogues since the fourth century,” Chiat said. “This synagogue is, as far as we know, the only one in the Twin Cities that had the Zodiac. And not only the signs, but the images. They’re along the edge of the balcony, beautifully rendered, and they read from right to left, just like Hebrew, starting with Libra, which is the fall.

“It’s brilliant. Whoever put together the program for that interior was a highly knowledgeable person, and the artist who created it was highly skilled.”

In 1957, the building was purchased by the Graham Temple, an African American Pentecostal Christian congregation, which has owned and stewarded the building ever since. The congregation was founded in 1923 by three couples from the Tulsa, Okla., area who headed north during the Great Migration. Under the leadership of Bishop John Graham, the church bought the building and adopted the name First Church of God in Christ in addition to the Graham Temple name. The artwork that Chiat talked about has been preserved in the church’s 70 years in the building, owing to the respect for the space.

“[They] could have painted it, but it was so beautiful, and it meant something to us as well,” Chiat said. “The ahron hakodesh, if you open it, has a stained glass window in the back and they left the stained glass window there.”

Dietrick said the event is important for the Jewish community understand the shared history and connection with the African American community.

“I am hopeful that there’s an understanding of not only the shared history in this space going back generations, but I’m also interested in this being potentially an opportunity for understanding current connections and the ways in which we are similar,” she said. “What does that mean and how can we continue to be friends and uplift each other’s communities? I feel like lately there’s been a push towards focusing more on what divides us rather than what brings us together.”

RSVP for the event on the Jewish Historical Society of the Upper Midwest website.

The post Northside Synagogue-Turned-Church Opening Doors For Shared Community Event appeared first on TC Jewfolk.

In the years since leaving the White House, Hurwitz has transitioned to writing books about Jewish identity, first in 2019 with Here All Along, and last year’s New York Times bestseller and National Jewish Book Award-winning As A Jew: Reclaiming Our Story from Those Who Blame, Shame, and Try to Erase Us.

Hurwitz is speaking at the Jewish Community Relations Council of Minnesota and the Dakota annual event on June 7. While on the road, she took time to email with TC Jewfolk to talk about her new book, finding meaning in Judaism, and the book’s place in a time of rising antisemitism.

TC Jewfolk: In As a Jew, you write about finding meaning and spiritual depth in Judaism after years in political life. What first sparked that shift for you personally?

Sarah Hurwitz: I grew up with the kind of Judaism that amounted to little more than four holidays and a handful of universalistic values – don’t lie/cheat/steal/kill, do help the poor, etc. I didn’t find it all that compelling, and after I became a bat mitzvah, I kind of walked away from it. But in my mid-thirties, after a painful breakup, I was looking for ways to fill my time, and I wound up taking an intro-to-Judaism class at the local JCC. I wasn’t on any kind of deep spiritual journey. I considered myself “just a cultural Jew” (though really, I was a contentless Jew, not a cultural Jew), and I figured I should learn more about my culture.

But in that class, I was absolutely blown away to discover texts that contained thousands of years of wisdom from millions of my ancestors about the human condition – how to be a good person, lead a worthy life, and find deep spiritual connection. I hadn’t seen any of this during those four holidays. I was hooked, and I took another intro class, and then read hundreds of books, took more classes, studied with rabbis, and eventually decided to write my own book, which was my first book, Here All Along.

TCJ: You’ve described the book as an attempt to articulate why Judaism still matters in modern life. What conversations or misconceptions were you hoping to respond to when you wrote it?

SH: That was more the topic of my first book. The topic of my second book, As a Jew, is my effort to understand how antisemitism has shaped Jewish identity. I wanted to help people understand how 2,000 years of anti-Judaism and antisemitism has affected how people think about Jews and how we as Jews think about ourselves. There is a deep neural groove worn into the world’s psyche that depicts Jews as overwhelmingly powerful, diabolically depraved, and in a conspiracy to harm others – and we’re seeing those themes of power, depravity, and conspiracy all across the political spectrum today. 

I also want Jews in America to understand the impact of growing up in a majority Christian country – how so many of us wind up thinking in Christian terms, images, and ideas, which seriously distorts our understanding of what Judaism is and who Jews are. For example, many of us think of Judaism as a religion, like Christianity. But that’s not true. I can reject every single aspect of Jewish religion right now, and I’m still a Jew. Jews are not simply members of a particular religion, we’re members of something that doesn’t have a category on a modern census form. We’re in the same category as the Hittites, Edomites, and Ammonites, but they’re long gone and we’re still here. We’re a tribe, family, peoplehood, civilization, etc. that has a religion. 

I also really wanted Jews to understand the impact of more than two centuries of our totally understandable and very well-intentioned efforts to escape persecution by assimilating – by erasing ourselves and our tradition in the hope of being safe and accepted. This didn’t work in Europe in the 20th century and I don’t think it’s working in America today. 

TCJ: Since the book came out, the Jewish world has experienced enormous upheaval and polarization. Has your understanding of the book’s message changed in light of recent events?

SH: Not really. If anything, as antisemitism continues to rise, the book’s message feels even more relevant, as does its content. In this book, I seek to help people understand the antisemitism they’re seeing today. Unfortunately, for many of us, our only antisemitism education is Holocaust education, so we think of antisemitism as Nazi, racial Jew-hatred. But that’s only one type of antisemitism. There is also the Islamist Jew-hatred of Hamas, ISIS, and al Qaeda, as well as Soviet anti-Zionist Jew hatred: slogans like ‘Zionism = Racism’ come straight from KGB propagandists. We’re seeing a lot of this kind of Jew hatred on college campuses today. 

TCJ: Many readers know you from your years working in the Obama Administration. How did your time in politics shape the way you think about Jewish identity, community, and moral responsibility?

SH: I often saw the Jewish ideas I was studying reflected in the work I was doing during the Obama Administration. Take, for example, the most core Jewish idea that we’re all created in the Divine image. Rabbi Yitz Greenberg beautifully explains – drawing on ancient Jewish texts – that this means we each have three inalienable dignities: that we’re each infinitely worthy, you can’t put a value on a human life; that we’re all totally equal, no one is more or less valuable than anyone else; and that we’re each totally unique, there is no one else like us on this planet. I came to realize many of the speeches I was writing articulated those values. When Mrs. Obama spoke about global girls’ education, she was arguing that every single girl on the planet is infinitely worthy, that each one is equal in value to every other human being, and that each has a unique world of potential to offer. 

TCJ: One of the themes in the book is the tension between universalism and particularism. Why do you think that balance feels especially challenging for Jews today?

SH: Over the past few years, with rising antisemitism on both the right and left, many Jews across the political spectrum have felt abandoned by communities they once felt were their allies and fellow-travelers, and I think they’re feeling more of a sense of particularism and Jewish peoplehood today. I think there’s a real sense of grief and loss that comes with that shift. 

TCJ: You write about Judaism not simply as a religion, but as a framework for living. What aspects of Jewish practice or thought do you think are most overlooked by secular or culturally connected Jews?

SH: Sadly, I think that many Jews aren’t aware that one of the most important forms of Jewish spiritual practice is Jewish study. In Jewish tradition, studying really is considered a spiritual practice, not solely an intellectual one. I view it as an effort to hear the Divine voice echoing through the generations in the voices of my ancestors as I engage with their wisdom about every aspect of the human condition. So often Jews look to the self-help aisle or the “you do you” ethic of modern secular society for moral wisdom. But I think Jewish tradition offers something much deeper. If you’re a Jew who grew up like me such that your only points of connection with Judaism were four holidays, how would you even know that the tradition contains wisdom that’s relevant to your daily life? It breaks my heart that many Jews don’t even know their tradition contains this wisdom. 

TCJ: What kinds of reactions to the book have surprised you most — either from Jewish readers or from non-Jewish audiences?

SH: I don’t think the reactions to this book have surprised me, but they have very much moved me. Many readers have told me that they felt like this book crystalized and clarified many of their nebulous anxieties and concerns – they’ve expressed gratitude that it helps them understand the deep history behind the antisemitism they’re seeing today, and it helps them much better understand their own Jewish identity. Many of them grew up like me with a kind of apologetic Jewish identity – always telling people “I’m Jewish, but I’m not really that Jewish” or “I’m just a cultural Jew.” This book helps them understand where that underlying urge to diminish, apologize for, and caveat their Jewish identity comes from. It helps people discern all the layers of internalized antisemitism that so many of us have so that we can see them clearly, strip them away, and turn back to our tradition with curiosity, reverence, and love.

I’ve also heard from a lot of readers who are not Jewish who are grateful for the education this book offers about antisemitism and Jewish identity. We have so many wonderful allies and fellow travelers out there, and I’m very grateful to every single one of them who took the time to read this book.

TCJ: This particular audience is probably not so disconnected to Jewish Life, but I’m sure in other venues, they may be; For those audiences who are disconnected, what do you hope they take away when you talk about the book?

SH: I hope they begin to understand some of the reasons why they might be disconnected from Jewish life – how antisemitic messages they’ve gotten about Jews may have distorted their own Jewish identity, and how Jews’ efforts to escape persecution by assimilating might have shaped the Judaism that we practice today in ways that make it less compelling. I hope they come away with both deep compassion for their ancestors who had to make excruciating sacrifices to survive and also with a desire to start engaging with Jewish life. I hope they get the sense from my book that this tradition has profound wisdom for how to be human that we desperately need right now – wisdom that can help us lead more connected, meaningful, loving, beautiful lives. And I hope they’ll hear my message that this tradition belongs to every single Jew, and there are endless different ways to engage deeply with it.

TCJ: Your book blends intellectual history, theology, and personal reflection. How did you approach writing for readers who may not have a strong background in Jewish learning?

SH: I always assume that my readers have zero Jewish background – I want my books to be accessible for Jews who haven’t had access to any Jewish education and for people of all backgrounds who are curious about Jewish tradition and identity. 

TCJ: When you speak with Jewish communities around the country, what questions or anxieties do you hear most often right now, and how are those shaping your current thinking?

SH: I’m definitely hearing from a lot of people about the generational divide in the Jewish community around Israel. Many people are having trouble speaking with their children and grandchildren about Israel, so I’ve been thinking a lot about how we can bridge this divide and have better, more informed conversations.

The post Q&A With Sarah Hurwitz Ahead Of Twin Cities Visit appeared first on TC Jewfolk.

The longer my Jewish child is out on their own, the more I recognize that, for nearly two decades, my religious practice has been for my family. It became time for me to focus on myself again.

I signed up for something that has been getting a lot of public attention in the Jewish community: A Mussar program. I didn’t really know what it would entail. I also didn’t expect what it would bring to me.

The course involves a lot of reading. My program was rooted in the work of Alan Morinis, the Canadian anthropologist who founded the Mussar Institute in 2004. His work has been influential in a revival of the Mussar movement and of the implementation of ethical Jewish living.

It was the idea of living an ethical Jewish life that drew me to the program. More than just reading, the process involved participating in a collective study group, a direct partnership, and chronicling your actual living choices. I was concerned it would feel like homework. But it didn’t. Instead, it felt like I was holding a magnifying glass on my past Jewish practice, my current Jewish study, and my future Jewish choices.

I was struck by how much this practice interacted with my life, particularly the Jewish life. I took a self-inventory and recognized that a lot of Jewish-y behaviors that I had had been my practice since childhood. And they had become less meaningful and more habitual.

The most direct example for me was paying attention to my own rituals. For example, I start every morning with the prayer Modah Ani and end the night with the She’ma. I usually said them in my head, by rote, and in a perfunctory manner. As a part of this program, I challenged myself to read them each day in English. My Hebrew language is pretty functional. I knew what the prayers meant. But by actively reading them in my native language, I was reintroduced to why we say them. (Spoiler alert: the morning is about gratitude, the nighttime about trust).

Overall, the Mussar program got me to slow down and pay attention to my Judaism. I tried new practices while sharing and being supported by others on this path. I also disagreed with some of the book’s presumptions and found some of the recommended practices to be far out of my comfort zone. And even with that, I have signed up to do it again. Because I can’t wait to see what happens when I dive in a little deeper.

Minnesota’s Living Mussar groups practice a “Soul Curriculum” as a way to make your own story and choices as you let Jewish curiosity lead you to places of joy and wholeness. (I don’t work for the organization, but I definitely recommend it. More information can be found here.)

So if you are looking at your own Judaism and wondering how to make it fit to the adult you are now, I highly recommend exploring this process. I know that for me it has offered a new harvest and a renewal in my own practice.

The post Finding Jewish Practice as an Adult appeared first on TC Jewfolk.

Listen to “Rabbanit Dalia Davis” on Spreaker.

Please subscribe to the Podcast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Stitcher, and more, and don’t forget to rate and review. Check out the show page where you can catch up on previous episodes. And of course, if you have suggestions for others who would be great subjects, let us know!

The post Who The Folk?! Rabbanit Dalia Davis appeared first on TC Jewfolk.

Two announcements headlined the night: The largest endowment gift from living donors in the federation’s history and the acquisition of all the Talmud Torah of St. Paul’s assets for a new education fund.

Don and Rhoda Mains, longtime federation supporters, are giving $2.6 million for a new Mains Family Endowment Fund. 

“It’s just an amazing moment to celebrate them and celebrate all they’ve done for the community,” said David Kaplan, CEO of the St. Paul Jewish Federation. “And what they’re going to continue to do for the community in perpetuity.”

The Mainses see this endowment as an investment in future generations and a way to show leadership for other donors who may be interested in similar gifts.

“They’ve invested their time, their treasure over the entirety of their lifetime into the St Paul community to make it stronger,” Kaplan said. “This gift came about from conversations … about (what) they want their legacy to be, and what kind of future they are hoping for.”

With the St. Paul Federation’s annual endowment draw at about 4.5%, the Mains fund will spin out a little over $110,000 each year. Over time, the fund and its support will grow.

Notably, the endowment is unrestricted, meaning the federation can deploy those dollars how it sees fit. Don and Rhoda “were adamant, absolutely adamant – it was a requirement to complete this agreement – that the funds be unrestricted,” Kaplan said. 

They “firmly believe that the federation needs the flexibility to put those dollars where they’re needed most, and where those dollars might be needed most is going to be different today than it might be in 10 years or 100 years.”

TTSP struggled for years. Now, it can help others avoid that

Ari Parritz grew up attending the Talmud Torah of St. Paul day school in the institution’s heyday of the 1990s and early 2000s. But as he grew up, TTSP started a downhill slide.

Demographic changes meant fewer Jewish kids going to day school, Parritz said. And the Great Recession hit TTSP’s enrollment further. 

“We were able to hold on and continue to offer programs when 99 out of 100 other organizations like TTSP would have been forced to close,” Parritz said.

That was partly because TTSP had its building, which it leased out for extra revenue. The financial runway saw the institution catch a new wind with higher enrollment during the COVID-19 pandemic.

But soon after came a new downturn. The day school closed in 2023 having enrolled just 10 kids, and nine months later the afternoon school was also shuttered.

As a member and then co-president of the TTSP board, Parritz saw that decline up close. 

“We were in a cycle that had gone on over many, many, many years, where we couldn’t grow because we were too small, and we were too small because we couldn’t grow – and there was just no way to get out of that,” he said.

Day schools across the U.S. have struggled in similar ways, prompting closings and institutional pivots. But others, such as Rockwern Academy in Cincinnati, have found success with growing student retention. 

Parritz saw little chance TTSP could replicate that success. “We were already deep in the water,” he said. “Day schools that have enrollment that are at 150 to 200 kids, where they really could be like 300 to 400 kids, are in a great place to be able to grow off of a strong foundation.”

After a strategic planning process, the board decided that they had spent enough money keeping TTSP afloat. It was better to help other organizations prosper and avoid TTSP’s fate. 

(Editor’s note: Hineni, previously TTSP’s adult education program, is now named FolkLab and an initiative of Jewfolk, Inc., with funding support from TTSP.)

“If we stop maintaining the overhead infrastructure to operate these programs ourselves, we can better consolidate resources in the organizations that aren’t at this minimum viable floor or below this minimum viable floor,” Parritz said. 

Under the St. Paul Jewish Federation, TTSP’s assets will form a roughly $3 million endowment fund, spinning out about $135,000 annually. The fund is restricted to fulfill TTSP’s historic mission of Jewish education and will be overseen by a separate committee with five members.

Parritz will be one of those committee members. As an organization, TTSP will dissolve.

“Ultimately, our board felt that this was the best thing to do, not for us, but for the Jewish community writ large,” Parritz said. The board was driven by asking, “How can we help the community, more so than helping ourselves or helping the organization as a specific entity?”

Stronger funding and focus for education

Parritz doesn’t just want to support good but perhaps floundering Jewish education programs in the Twin Cities. The new TTSP endowment committee is squarely focused on supporting quality initiatives.

“How can we help other people who are currently doing (Jewish education well) get to great, or currently doing a great job, get to even better,” he said.

That effort will be part of a restructured Jewish education department at the St. Paul Jewish Federation that will oversee grants, scholarships, Israel trips and other education funding under one umbrella. With the new TTSP endowment, the federation’s total funding for Jewish education will reach over half a million dollars every year.

Ruth Hampton Olkon, the former CEO of the Jewish Family Service of St. Paul (now merged into the Jewish Family and Children’s Service of Minnesota), will lead the new education department.

Olkon will do listening sessions with the St. Paul Jewish community and work with a committee made up of local educators to shape the department’s mission and approach.

“Ruth is a fantastic community builder, she is a great consensus builder, and is someone who can see the big picture,” Kaplan said. He sees the new department as a way to be more effective with funding and programming.

The TTSP endowment committee may take a little time to find its feet, and Parritz plans to take feedback from the community, too. The committee wants to fund immersive Jewish experiences, such as day schools and summer camps, that studies show create a deep and lasting impact on Jewish kids.

But the funding process, and where the committee fits into existing infrastructure, needs to be clear. In other communities, some Jewish institutions that have become exclusively funders have turned into independent foundations.

Under the federation umbrella, the TTSP endowment committee has some independence. But it does rely on the federation’s judgment and screening process.

“The thing that we are being very careful on is to respect the role of both of the Twin Cities Federations,” Parritz said. “Right now, there’s a very well-defined intake process for what you call startup programs or totally new things.”

I asked Parritz if TTSP’s endowment setup might reduce the diversity of Jewish education in the Twin Cities. If TTSP had become an independent foundation, for example, it could take a chance on new ideas that the federations may not see as worthwhile or successful.

“What you’re highlighting is an important need,” Parritz said. But “we’re not set up to do that. We’ve specifically organized ourselves to be a more lean, efficient mode of getting funds out into the community, which means that we have to rely on other people’s staff to do that work.”

Parritz sees federation staff as being in a better position to give starter grants and evaluate new ideas. He also noted that there are other donors in the Twin Cities that can support ideas the federation may pass on.

“We can be extra sure that we’re not stepping on any toes or duplicating any processes,” Parritz said. “The last thing anyone needs is more process and more paperwork.”

(Editor’s note: Jewfolk COO Liz Palmer and FolkMedia Consulting Manager Juliana Sellers are the executive director and co-board chair, respectively, of TTSP).

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