Editor’s note: OFJCC President and CEO Zack Bodner had the privilege of addressing the Leslie Family Preschool Class of 2021 on May 30, 2025 as they marked the end of their preschool years and journey forward. Please find Zack’s speech below.

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Welcome to the class of 2025! Congratulations on making it through your preschool years. If you’ve made it this far, and it only gets easier from here. Right, parents?

It’s wonderful to have you all with us today. So many people have made this possible – and I don’t just mean this wonderful celebration. I mean the last few years of your family’s Jewish Journey.

You, kids—and your families—have played with teachers in the classroom, administrators in the front office, helpers on the playground, as well as song leaders, master gardeners, counselors, therapists, and so many others. This has been a community effort—but we have loved every minute of it, because you are our family.

And here you are, about to go off into the “real world,” so I want to send you off with something special. Each year, I give the graduating class a few words of advice that will hopefully help them in their journey.

And today, I’d like to encourage you with these words: BE BRAVE.

I know, I know—easier said than done, right? But seriously – if you can summon your courage, you can do anything. And I don’t just mean jumping out of airplanes—yeah, I’ve done that—but for you, I am talking about really scary stuff, like …

Have you ever gone to a new school or joined a new classroom and been scared that no one was going to like you? Well, guess what: Everyone else felt the same way—and you ended up making friends, right? So, BE BRAVE.

Have you ever had to get a shot from the doctor for some medicine, and been worried that it was going to hurt? Well, the shot didn’t really hurt so much; it’s just the anticipation leading up to it that’s scary. So, BE BRAVE.

Have your parents ever asked you to try a new food, and you thought it looked sooooooo gross, there was no way you were going to be able to do it? Well, guess what: if you don’t like it, you can just spit it out; it won’t hurt you. So, BE BRAVE.

To quote a former US President, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” President FDR said that when our country was having a very hard time [in the Great Depression.]

Yes, the world can be a scary place. But worrying about things we can’t control, things our leaders do, for example, is not worth it. And the anxiety leading up to things that may or may not happen is also not worth it. You can make yourself crazy for no reason. Trust me—I’ve done this to myself before…

Once, there was this time when I was sitting quietly by myself, I felt something tickling my leg and I looked down and it was a spider crawling on me, and I went AHHHH! But it was just a little spider, and it would have been easy to gently flick it away. But then the next time I was sitting quietly and felt a tickle on my leg, I jumped up and freaked out! And guess what: it was just a flower, rustling in the breeze. So, I felt really silly.

There was no need for me to be scared. It was my fear of the fear that got to me. So now the next time I feel a tickle on my leg, I’ll calmly look down and approach the situation with curiosity and courage.

So, that is my blessing for you today: Go forth in life with curiosity. Greet each new day with awe, wonder, and hopefulness. And remember: BE BRAVE!

Congratulations Class of 2025!

There is a heaviness to Yom Hazikaron that is difficult to capture in words. The density of the experience—the emotional toll, the cultural and sociological significance—is compounded by the very real familiarity with loss. It is not a conceptual day on which we honor those who paid the ultimate price in wars long ago. There are real names, recent memories and fresh wounds still painfully raw.

The heaviness is palpable. In Israel, it is impossible to escape the day. The sirens bring the country to a halt, giving people, regardless of their location, an opportunity to connect with a collective consciousness and tap into a frequency of grief and national sorrow. The heavily choreographed ceremonies, mirroring religious devotion, formalize and ritualize memory and loss. They cut across communities and settings.

One of my earliest memories from grade school was a reenactment the 7th graders performed of a famous war ballad sung by Yehoram Gaon, titled The Ballad for the Medic. I was in 5th grade—just ten years old—and these kids, only slightly older, were acting out the song in all its heartbreaking detail. Even as a child, the power of the moment was crushing. I remember silently crying, tears rolling down my cheeks as I watched them. To this day, I tear up whenever I hear that song.

This ballad is one of hundreds, perhaps thousands, in a genre of music that accompanies the echoing memories of those we’ve lost. These songs serve as a gateway into the realm of collective mourning.

What compounds the weight of the day is that, despite its collective rhythm, Yom Hazikaron is deeply personal—everyone has lost someone they care about. For me, it’s two close friends killed in the Second Lebanon War: Yaniv Temerson and Alex Bonimovitch, of blessed memory. The tragedy of familiarity with loss is perplexing. The guilt of living on is ever-present. The distance is humbling. And still, the density of the day has texture.

It is with this burden—one with historic reverberations—that we transition immediately into Yom Ha’atzmaut, the day we celebrate Israeli independence. The metaphor of ripping off a band-aid to describe the abruptness of this shift is, in fact, not a metaphor. With wounds still open and loss still fresh, we are asked to move into a heightened mode of celebration.

There is the speed of light, the speed of sound, and then there is the speed of the Israeli emotional rollercoaster.

For some, it’s too much. In Israel and here, some understandably choose not to celebrate Independence Day this year. There are 59 hostages, and we cannot truly celebrate freedom without them. I understand them.

And yet, even without forgetting for a second the enormity of the moment—or the urgency of bringing them all home—I believe we must celebrate our independence.

We have been celebrating since the very first year of statehood, through wars, financial crises and political upheavals. With all the heartbreak, with all the pain, with all the confounding failures of leadership—that is not what defines us.

The story of sovereignty is the story of agency. It is our story. We, all of us, are its authors and its protagonists.

One of the recurring sentiments of Yom Hazikaron is that those who paid the ultimate sacrifice have commanded us to live. That is part of the meaning infused into the proximity and resonance of these two days. This year is no different. It creates an equation we accept, but do not welcome: that our agency, our freedom, our future is worth fighting for, worth paying a heavy price for and worth doing everything we can to preserve.

The juxtaposition of mourning and celebration forces us to live with the ugliness of war, death and destruction, so that we do not become callous to it. It reminds us of what we have lost, so that we can better see what we have gained.

I don’t know who is reading this.
You may or may not be Israeli.
You may or may not feel the gravitational pull of these two days.
You may be mourning.
You may be celebrating.
Or you may be doing both, all at once.

Wherever you are, whatever you are feeling, know that memory and hope are not opposites. They are two sides of the same story. Our story.

Like most non-observant Jews—which means “like most Jews in the world”—I don’t usually observe Tisha B’Av. But this year, I plan to do so.

If you’re unfamiliar with this holiday, it’s an annual commemoration of all the worst events in Jewish history, piled into one day – the ninth of Av. Jews believe on this day, both the first and second Temples were destroyed, the Bar Kochba revolt against the Romans was defeated, Jews were expelled from England on this day in the 13^th century, the Spanish Inquisition began in the 15^th century, World War I started on this date, and Jews began to be deported from the Warsaw Ghetto on this date during World War II. According to Chabad, the ninth of Av “is the saddest day on the Jewish calendar, on which we fast, deprive ourselves and pray.”

Whether or not all these events actually occurred on this date in history doesn’t really matter. What matters is that we have a real date on which to dump all our shared trauma. It’s incredibly important for a group of people with a common history and shared destiny to have a day in which they can collectively mourn all the tragedies that have befallen them. To keep memory alive, we can’t just celebrate the good times; we must honor the bad times as well. Plus, psychologically, it’s healthy to regularly purge one’s sorrow.

Despite these benefits, I don’t recall having observed Tisha B’Av myself in the past. Indeed, when I wrote my book “Why Do Jewish?” I included a section on holidays and even then, I didn’t choose Tisha B’Av as the holiday to celebrate this time of year. (I chose Tu B’Av, which is like the Jewish or Israeli “Valentine’s Day instead.) But this year, I’m reconsidering that recommendation for the following reasons.

First, Israel is on the brink of an all-out war with Iran, and I’m fasting with the hope that it doesn’t happen. They’re already at war with Iran, but it’s being fought through proxies in Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, the West Bank, etc. If Iran decides to go all-in, it will be very ugly, many people will be hurt and killed, and I fear for friends and family who live in Israel.

Second, Israel still has over 100 of its citizens being held hostage by Hamas. I’m fasting with the hope that they will be returned soon and that their lives and their families’ lives can resume and the healing can begin. Because until then, all those people are stuck in purgatorial limbo.

Third, antisemitism is skyrocketing around the globe. The situation on college campuses last year was a disaster and I don’t expect it will be better this year; in fact, I fear it will trickle down to high schools and middle schools. So, I am fasting with the hope that the world will stop engaging in the oldest form of hate and that the situation, in particular for our kids, will improve.

Finally, the internal divisions among the Jewish People are as worrisome as they’ve ever been. Within Israel, the animosity of many citizens toward their elected leadership is at a boiling point. In the Diaspora, especially in North America, the split between those who are full-threadedly supporting Israel and those engaging in a different way, is red-hot. So, I am fasting with the hopes that these divisions can also be healed soon.

This year, I plan to fast for Tisha B’Av out of sense of mourning as much a sense of hope. I may also say a prayer or two. Care to join me?

“You flew thousands of miles just to give us a hug. That’s what gives us strength. The Jewish People are family—that is our superpower.”

These were the words spoken by Danny, the father of Israeli hostage Omri Miran, when he spoke to our group traveling on a Ramah Solidarity and Service trip to Israel this week when we asked where he finds the strength to keep up his hopefulness every day.

Not every moment on my recent trip was filled with this much optimism. Indeed, the trip was as heart-breaking as it was soul-filling.

We cried at the Nova site when we went to bear witness to the hundreds of memorials created by the families of the victims. We were overwhelmed when we visited the bus stop-bomb shelter from where Hirsch Goldberg-Polin was kidnapped after 28 people were murdered there. Our hearts broke at the Car Cemetery, where we saw over 1,500 burned out cars, stacked up in piles like the shoes in Auschwitz, each with its own story. We felt the pain of every family member when we made the pilgrimage to Har Herzl, Israel’s Arlington, which is once again an active cemetery with new graves dug almost every day for Israel’s greatest generation.

We rolled up our sleeves, as we made meals for soldiers at a teaching kitchen in Tel Aviv that transitioned its purpose after Oct. 7. We were humbled as we helped serve a barbecue dinner for soldiers on an army base alongside a group of Israeli volunteers who do this multiple times a week at a different base each time. We felt useful when we picked 1.5 tons of grapes at a farm because all the field workers were called up to serve in the military. We were grateful to be of service when we packed food in Netivot, a city in the Western Negev (often referred to as the Gaza Envelope), for families in the surrounding area.

We gave hugs, as we came to show solidarity to families of hostages, as well as families of soldiers and civilians who were killed, and listened to their unbearable stories. We were emotional when we took pictures at Hostage Square, where art installations stand alongside meeting tents for hostage families, demanding we “bring them home now.” We felt good spending money at Café Café Otef, a pop-up coffee/chocolate shop run by the members of Kibbutz Re’im to sell products from the kibbutzim that were devastated on Oct. 7.

There is no way to thoroughly encapsulate these experiences, but there is one story I want to share. After Omri’s father, Danny, learned that his son had been kidnapped, he came to Tel Aviv from where he lives three hours north. Danny didn’t know what to do—he just knew he had to be around other families who knew the hell he was living in, so he just showed up at Hostage Square. He was sleepwalking, unable to wake from his nightmare, and a stranger approached him on the square and asked him where he was staying for the night. Danny said he didn’t have a place to stay so the stranger invited him to stay at his place. Danny politely declined but the stranger insisted, so Danny reluctantly accepted.

Three hours later, the stranger came back to the square to find Danny because he knew that Danny wouldn’t really take him up on his offer. Danny said he would, but he still didn’t go. Later that night, the stranger came back and finally took Danny in his car to his apartment. He brought him up to his flat and handed Danny the key, telling him he would stay with his sister so Danny could have his own space.

Danny looked around at the beautiful home, saw the expensive art on the walls and the nice things on the shelves, and joked, “As soon as you leave, I’m taking all this nice stuff, putting it in a car, and driving away with it.”

The stranger smiled and said, “You have the key. Do with it as you please. My home is your home.”

After a few days, the stranger learned that Danny couldn’t sleep because he liked to fall asleep with the TV on and there was no TV in the bedroom. So, the owner went and bought a tv and installed it in the bedroom. Danny stayed in the flat for three months, and now these former strangers refer to each other as brothers.

It didn’t matter whether these two men shared the same politics or not. Neither one asked if they had the same religious beliefs. It was simple: “My home is your home.”

That’s Israel: unbelievable generosity mixed with dark humor; shared trauma creating unbreakable connections. That’s what gives strength to those on the front lines. That’s at the heart of the resilience of Israel. That’s the superpower of the Jewish People.

There is no way to fully do justice to these encounters. It’s impossible to convey the depth of connection you feel with the people. My hope is that you can just make the trip to Israel and experience it yourself. Until then, the OFJCC will continue to make our home your home.

Am Yisrael Chai.

Now I know folks are complaining a lot these days; they’re quick to criticize.

They’re saying it’s the end of Pax Americana, and they start to eulogize.

But let’s stop with the doom and gloom, and take a moment to recognize

That America’s artistic talents transform the world before our eyes.

It starts with an eternal optimism; we call it the American dream.

With no caste system or royal family, anyone can join the team.

We’re made up of all types of folks, including the crop of the cream.

There’s a place for everyone here, especially those who swim upstream.

Built by immigrants and dreamers, it’s the original melting pot.

From steamer boats to covered wagons, they came to claim their spot.

This new world birthed something special, from the talents each one brought.

As Lin-Manuel Miranda sang, “They didn’t throw away their shot.”

We are called the “land of opportunity,” of that I’m sure you know.

It’s a laboratory for creativity, encourages artistic genius to grow.

Especially for those who break the mold and hate the status quo,

Like Ralph Waldo Emerson, Harper Lee, and Maya Angelou.

The infinite possibilities here birthed a literary well-spring.

Capote and Fitzgerald, Raymond Chandler and Stephen King,

JD Salinger the recluse, and Hemingway in the boxing ring,

They invented a new type of writing and paved the way for other things.

Like American photographers, whose incredible talent was brought to light.

Visionaries like Ansel Adams captured images in black and white.

And others came along, who were blessed with unique sight

Like Annie Leibovitz and Richard Avedon, coaxing stars out from the night.

Jasper Johns painted Old Glory and Albert Bierstadt our beautiful home,

With soaring landscapes, golden vistas, bluffs, and flowering brome.

From the Grand Canyon to the Colorado River, where the deer and the antelope roam.

The majesty of the Rocky Mountains, and the bison in Yellowstone.

Iconic images were immortalized by painters who came along,

Like James Whistler’s famous mother who stares off all day long,

While Thomas Cole shows an empire crumbling when leaders get it wrong.

Hopper, O’Keeffe, and Rockwell’s art each sing a perfect song.

Then there’s Jackson Pollack, Andy Warhol, and Roy Lichtenstein,

Inventors of a whole new style, put American pop-art on the scene.

Along with David Hockney and Peter Blake, and the colorful Keith Haring.

Their images overflow with energy like a hundred cups of caffeine.

They came after European masters, and improved on what came before

Because that’s the American way – to stand upon the shore

And look out on the infinite horizon and imagine what to explore.

If you can envision something new, it may not be a dream anymore.

American artistic talent wasn’t limited to a canvas or a pane.

Ben Franklin captured lightning, and Edison’s bulbs lit up our brain.

Alexander Graham Bell’s phone carried our voices over the plain.

While Ford invented the motor car, and the Wright Brothers gave us the plane.

The radio and phonograph brought forth music from the dark

And allowed the world to hear the greats, who’ve uniquely left their mark.

Jazz giants Ella Fitzgerald and Miles Davis lit the spark

Then Louis Armstrong and John Coltrane set a new benchmark.

So did Elvis, Sinatra, and Bob Dylan, who came along the way,

Followed by Madonna, Prince, and Taylor Swift, and of course, Beyonce.

Don’t forget the king of pop, the moonwalking, Thriller MJ.

They’re all just like the Boss himself, Born in the USA.

American art can inspire you, like a lightning bolt from Zeus.

Creating sublime joy, heartfelt tears, or laughter it may induce,

Especially if it’s from stand-up comics like Amy Schumer or Lenny Bruce.

While Eddie Murphy and Kevin Hart always know how to cut loose.

Great American comedians like George Carlin and Mel Brooks

Were funny and irreverent too, generating nasty looks.

While Carl Reiner and Jerry Seinfeld never held us on tenterhooks.

Clearly American humor will go down in the history books.

Along with Hollywood for producing the movie industry,

From Orson Welles to Stanley Kubrick, Coppola and Scorsese.

Whether Spielberg or George Lucas, or the incomparable Spike Lee.

Cohen Brothers and Tarantino flicks are my favorite ones to see.

The artists in front of the camera, created characters to be seen.

Brando’s Godfather, Bogart’s Rick, and the Rebel, young James Dean

Along with leading ladies like Marilyn, formerly Norma Jeane.

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers danced as the raindrops fell between.

And our athletes are artists of a different sort, so we hold our heads up high

When Lebron dunks, Serena aces, and Air Jordan touches the sky.

There was no denying it when Babe Ruth or Jackie Robinson let one fly.

Sandy Koufax was a baseball legend, while proudly wearing his chai.

American artists of today are rewriting everybody’s fates.

They’re modern prophets like Steve Jobs and Microsoft’s Bill Gates.

Turning closed doors into Windows through which everyone communicates.

Expanding the artistic legacy of the great United States.

Yeah, America isn’t perfect, but our creative genius has helped me realize

That transcendent beauty and provocative art, we must immortalize.

So, thank you for giving me a moment, and not for rolling your eyes

To share my pride, brag a bit, and even evangelize.

In the land of the free and the home of the brave, this I know you’ve heard:

Everyone’s created equal here, so no endeavor will be deterred.

The right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, no dream shall be deferred.

That’s why when I sing America the Beautiful, my heart is always stirred.

This country is not just my home, it’s an idea, an aspiration.

Spurred on by visionary artists, who keep me fueled with inspiration.

So, join me in raising a glass today, filled with your favorite libation.

On this Fourth of July, I want to say, happy birthday to my nation.

Kol Isha is the OFJCC’s intensive women’s leadership program. Over the course of a year, a small group of local women come together to build community, participate in Jewish learning and create local social impact projects. The 2023–2024 cohort began meeting in early October with a focus on the global refugee crisis and had planned to go on a trip to learn and volunteer at the US/Mexico borders with the Arizona Jews for Justice sometime in the early part of 2024.

The group was preparing for the trip when the events of October 7th traumatized global Jewry. The cohort was grieving for Israel and dealing with very real antisemitism in our schools and in our cities. The participants started to question whether they would have the strength and capacity to focus on immigrants when so many in our own communities were suffering. Facing this uncertainty, participant Linor Eylon, reached out to her son Adam, who serves in the IDF. Without hesitation, he said, “Now more than ever, we must be a light unto the nations. We must show up for others and stand proud of who we are as Jews and what we stand for.” Inspired by his words, the women pursued the Jewish value of Tikkun Olam, or Repair the World and continued with the trip as planned.

Thus on March 27, 2024, twelve dynamic Jewish women, led by the incomparable Tova Birnbaum and Luba Palant, headed to Phoenix, AZ to volunteer with Arizona Jews for Justice.

“We had no idea what to expect on this trip.”

We should not have worried, Rabbi Shmuly and Eddie were more than welcoming and excited for the opportunity to share their inspiring work. One project they have undertaken is volunteering at the Mount of Olives Lutheran Church in Phoenix, which welcomes buses of asylum seekers coming out of detention centers at the border. Before the church opened its space, ICE would drop off busloads of immigrants on the streets. These individuals neither knew where they were nor understood what they should do. Now, with the help of the Arizona Jews for Justice, the church opens its doors to asylum seekers and tells them where they are, provides them with a meal, a cell phone, a shower and one change of clothing. Each person released from detention must have a sponsor and a place to stay somewhere in the United States. Volunteers at the church help call their sponsors and arrange flights for them, usually paid for by the sponsors, and then take them to the airport or bus station.

The 14 of us from the OFJCC helped in any way we could. We prepared and served meals, sorted and handed out clothing, bought medicine and organized a medical supply closet, connected phones to wifi, made phone calls to sponsors,  helped download boarding passes, helped charge ankle monitors and used a lot of Google Translate. We were also fortunate to have, in our group, Jackie Miodownik Aisenberg. Originally from Argentina and a fluent Spanish speaker—as well as a physician—her presence was such a gift to the people who passed through the church.

Some of the people we encountered included:

• A man from India who spoke very little English who was heading to Mobile, Alabama, and his friend Azim from Bangladesh who was picked up by a friend who lived an hour away from the church. When Azim’s friend arrived despite being a very statured man, he broke down sobbing with relief.
• A 23-year-old woman named Alina from Siberia, Russia, who was on her way to Los Angeles to live with her father’s friend. Alina traveled through multiple countries, walked from Mexico to the border and spent over 2 months in detention. She was thrilled to meet Luba who spoke to her in Russian and helped her navigate the airport over the phone the next day. Seeing her face after she washed her hair for the first time in weeks was priceless.
• A young man arrived at the church and reunited with his mother for the first time in five years. A heartbreaking and heartwarming scene that none of us will forget.
• A tiny ten-day-old baby who is a United States citizen was born under detention but in the hospital. 
• We learned that women are given ankle monitors not because they are considered dangerous or untrustworthy, but because they want to be sure the women are not being trafficked. Julie Arnheim had to cut the jeans off a young woman who wanted to shower but couldn’t get them off because of the ankle monitor.

That same woman would not let us hold her baby while she showered. We must have offered twenty times, but she couldn’t bear to separate from her for even a few minutes.

• A young girl of seven or eight searching the moderately stocked clothing closet to find something cute to wear but leaving not exactly happy. It broke our hearts that we couldn’t provide her with something new and pretty so she could feel some sense of normalcy.

The people we met and the stories we heard from the asylum seekers will haunt us forever. In the words of Rabbi Shmuly, “It can be overwhelming and disheartening to see so much pain and struggle in the world. But as Jews, if we can save or help one person, we are changing their world. And we should take comfort in doing that one thing for that one person—showing our humanity and knowing we made a difference.”

—Lori Krolik and Karen Orzechoeski, 2023–2024 Kol Isha Cohort

When you channel the moment through human connection, the world opens up to incredible possibilities.

One day last fall, we invited two almost-strangers, our community members Giulio Fregni and David Porush, to the OFJCC for coffee. They had met once previously at the OFJCC’s Annual event back in March 2023. Lo and behold, even before our cups of coffee were in hand, they excitedly started recalling their prior encounter and all of our lives were made a little bit richer for it.

Back in spring 2023, OFJCC Chief Development Officer Seth Leslie invited Giulio, former Director of A/V at the OFJCC and now Senior Broadcast Engineer at Google for ASG, to channel his creative energies into a meaningful experience at The Annual. The Annual, the Oshman Family JCC’s Benefit of Belonging, is a community gathering that reverberates with a sense of homecoming, warmth and welcome. The event is filled with participatory experiences lovingly and generously co-created by community members.  The evening unfurls in a whimsical way as everyone chooses their own adventure, dressed as they please, often in costumes. Its dress code is “Wear what brings you joy!”

Giulio leveraged everyone’s burgeoning curiosity about artificial intelligence by coding on top of ChatGPT to create a “rabbi” avatar. Calling his creation Rabb-AI, Giulio said to himself, “Why don’t I try to create a [robot] assistant because it would be relevant to Jewish values. Let’s see if I can do it in a way that is both playful because it is kind of a joke, and respectful. There is this joy at unleashing rabbinic information and also something of a prank.”

RabbAI meets a real-life Avatar (Tanya P.)

Little did Giulio know when he was dreaming up Rabb-AI that a self-styled expert would attempt to go head to, ahem, “head” in a lively encounter with Rabb-AI. David received his B.S. in molecular biology from MIT followed by a Ph.D. in literature. He created the Society for Literature and Science and, in addition, has spent a great deal of time studying Jewish texts.

With an ever-present twinkle in his eye, David mused about his academic career, “In 1991, we had the first live performance of human actors directed by a computer. It spit out instructions for a play, for a drama, which actors would spontaneously perform.”

David had his doubts about Rabb-AI. “Like anyone else who is immersed in Judaism and takes it seriously, I’m a skeptic. I’m skeptical that AI could possibly achieve the depth that an ordained rabbi could. I assumed that a rabbi has a depth of textual learning and a sensitivity to the moment that couldn’t be replicated.”

David approached Rabb-AI and said “Shalom, Rabbi” into a microphone. Rabb-AI awoke, the conversation commenced, and his impression was “wow.” “I was testing its knowledge about a very specific discussion in Berakhot [a Talmud tractate]. It was a technicality. Rabb-AI nailed it.”

Notes Giulio, “For me, it was amazing because Seth gave me full freedom to produce the idea and my small social experiment. It was a lot of fun. And it was fun seeing so many familiar faces that I had known in other capacities.”

RabbAI encounters real-life Rabbi Amitai F.

In an age of real rabbis and robot rabbis, of near-perfect duplications, what is the difference between something like the Mona Lisa and perfect copies of the Mona Lisa? Explains David, “The cultural critic Walter Benjamin wrote about the authenticity of the original: Even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element: its original presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it was created. Benjamin referred this unique cultural context as its ‘aura.’

“The original has the aura of the artist’s hand,” says David. What is the aura?

The magic of The Annual is being in the aura of the artist’s hand. The aura is an evening enjoying real-life presence, creativity, humanity and belonging. As a community of co-creators, we are guided by values such as immediacy and participation, and we express ourselves authentically.

We basked in each other’s auras until the last sips of coffee, and it was beautiful.

Tu B’Shvat may be an under recognized holiday in some circles, but it’s very significant in preschool. Trees serve a great many vital functions in society, and possibly even more in early childhood. They offer a structure to climb, a challenge to conquer. A habitat for animals, its own little world. Not to mention, a cyclical source of fruit. Even more, they offer life lessons as they grow alongside our students.

Here at the OFJCC Leslie Family Preschool, we are so grateful to have access to so many beautiful, fruiting trees, and our students take full advantage of the learning opportunities offered by the trees. There is always a student climbing a tree, picking a piece of fruit for a snack, or searching for small grubs hiding in the dirt. The students quite literally grow alongside the trees, each child growing taller and stronger as the trees do and learning to interact with and care for the trees in more complex ways. Each generation of students witnesses new trees grow, mature trees blossom or fruit and older trees wither, die and get replaced.

So, when Tu B’Shvat comes around, we thank the trees and we learn about them, we plant them and we hope for them. Every year in January, we watch something as small as a seed held in the hand of a child transform that child into a member of society through a simple lesson. A student may plant a tree today, and watch its seed sprout, its roots enmesh themselves into the ground, its spindly trunk emerge and reach toward the sun. However, that tree will need years of sun, water and care to grow trees and fruit sufficiently to feed that student. Each student begins to understand the selfless nature of trees—that those who plant them will not be around to see their fruit, and that the fruit we receive from our trees today is only due to the generous forethought of those that came before us.

—Amanda Klein, OFJCC Leslie Family Preschool educator

Tu B’Shvat, commonly referred to as The Birthday of the Trees, is celebrated on the 15th day in the Hebrew calendar of Shevat. This is a time for honoring trees, enjoying the fruits of Winter and planting for the upcoming Spring season.

Here at the OFJCC Leslie Family Preschool, children often visit our orchards, observing the differences between our Evergreen trees (lemons, clementines and olives) and the trees that have lost their leaves and are resting in winter: pomegranates, figs, apricots and plums. These are called Deciduous trees. The children will keep their eyes out when the first of the leaves and blossoms emerge in spring.

Children participate in a variety of Tu B’Shvat activities at the preschool. From trying different citrus fruits, to making fresh squeezed orange juice, to planting seeds, tree branch weaving, painting with small branches, making a large branch mobile and writing “Happy Birthday” wishes to hang on our orchard trees, the children are very much engaged in the study of trees. Some of the older classes talk at length about why trees are important and what can we do to help trees, making them Shomrei Adamah, guardians of the earth.

For me and my wife, being far from our home in Israel the past two months has been excruciating—many of our closest family and friends serve in the IDF. But we, Jews outside of Israel, have a critical role to play as well, beyond material support. Beyond political support. We are here to remind the world that Jews are here to stay.

Against this backdrop, we planned our 9th annual Z3 Conference. In early November, just shy of four weeks after the unthinkable horror of October 7, our community came together. We gathered to cry, remember, learn, heal and persevere.

To achieve this, the day began by marking October 7 and ended on a higher note by singing “Hatikvah” together at the closing plenary.

See the 2023 conference recap here.

While we are still processing the results of the survey, early findings and testimonials demonstrate that we were successful in creating the much-needed environment and setting for our community in this moment of pain:

1. Two-thirds of the participants reported feeling a moment of hope and an increased sense of peoplehood during the conference, arising from factors like “community,” “a sense of belonging,” “inspirational speakers” and “ability to network.” This shows the gathering is achieving its goals.
2. Our Net Promoter Score has jumped from 28% in 2021 to 37% in 2022 to 58% this year. Our community appreciated the event and will highly recommend it to others. Over 90% of attendees said the event was excellent.
3. There were 64 participants who detailed in writing the actions they plan to take because of their Z3 inspiration, including volunteering, expanding awareness and programming at their home organizations. With guests coming from all around North America and beyond, we welcomed:
   • Leadership Lab: Four cohorts, 96 people—including both teens and adults.
   • Ancillary Events: Five events in synagogues, day schools and the community.
4. In addition, impressions of our new social media channels and unique content grew 20-fold, expanding our reach and engagement exponentially.

I’m incredibly proud of the team for coming together and pulling off this important event even under the most emotionally challenging of circumstances. And I’m thankful to you, our supporters, for believing in this work—it’s needed now more than ever.

Am Yisrael Chai.