Jewish Peoplehood Education: An Opportunity for Creative Educating
I'm on my way to New York, my first trip there in three years. I'm going for the second conference of the Global Task Force on Jewish Peoplehood Education of the School for Jewish Peoplehood Studies at Beth Hatefutsoth, the Museum of the Jewish People. What is "Peoplehood"? It's a way of conceptualizing Jewish identity beyond the liberal-minded individualistic search for self. It revolves around connectivity and mutual responsibility, and implies that one cannot be Jewish in a vacuum, the Judaism is inherently different from, say, Christianity, in that there is a necessarily communal element to it. One cannot be a "Good Jew" alone -- a Passover seder of One is not a seder. Connection is key. For me, it's not just connection but mutual responsibilty: this is about reminding Jews that caring for the well-being of the person sitting across the table, ocean, screen, or partition is a vital aspect of our tradition and heritage. Below is the press release about the conference. I'll try and send a blog from there, otherwise, reporting when I get back. L'hitraot! Read the rest of this entry →

The incoming Knesset, if all remains as it stands today, will have
The Jewish world lost a gem last week. Dr. Aryeh Geiger, founder of the pioneering Reut School in Jerusalem, founder of Ometz Hinuchi for principal independence, creator of the Gidonim project for the renewal of Eastern European Jewish cemeteries, died last week after a long and uphill battle with cancer. But his long list of amazing achievements does not capture what made him truly great. His greatness was who he was as a person. Aryeh Geiger embodied kindness and care as an entire world view. He built relationships and institutions on the same principle of spirituality as human connection. He never veered from these unwavering beliefs, and dedicated every ounce of his life to transmitting this love for humankind.
I had the privilege of interviewing Aryeh Geiger last year, right after he called a meeting of the staff, students, and parents in Reut, to announce to the community that he was stepping down due to his illness. "I am lucky to be able to prepare for my departure from the community," he said with tragic calmness. This was a man for whom life and death formed a challenge and an opportunity. I'm reprinting the interview below from 
Eran Rosenberg had a great career. A project manager at a large human resources firm, he traveled the world, met interesting people and lived a grandiose life. Among other things, he went to Uganda to recruit combat pilots for the Ugandan army, spent a week in Iceland working with air traffic controllers, and was responsible for flight attendant recruitment at El Al. But with all that, he was not happy. “I asked myself, what are the things that are fun for you in life?”
Etka Holtzberg, a tiny, bubbly, flirtatious, white-haired, slightly hunched over 87-year old woman, is one of the most incredible people I have ever met. She has experienced nearly all that the Jewish people have been dished out in the twentieth century – shtetl, poverty, death, Siberia, Holocaust, Israel, war, terror, kibbutz, disease – and has not only survived, but continues to radiate an enviable joie de vivre. Incredibly, of the four children whom she brought into this world, only one is still alive, though severely injured. Her first child died in infancy, her second child, Meri, was killed in a 1972 El Al hijacking, her third child, Zachi, died ten years ago from Cerebral Palsy, and her fourth child, Avi, now in his fifties, was nearly killed patrolling the northern border. Etka’s husband and mother both died in July 1974, while Avi lay in the hospital.
“I feel strong,” the 4’9” Etka smiles broadly as she inches her head to my face. She can barely see, she needs a device to hear properly, and she has major heart issues. But she tenaciously lives on her own, does her own cooking, makes her own dolls, borscht and jam, and, perhaps a bit frightfully, still zooms around kibbutz in her electric scooter. I suppose if you’ve been living in one place for 59 years, you don’t really need to see in order to get around.