By Anna Saul, Chief Advancement Officer at the Siegel JCC
In January 2024, I began the Mandel Institute Executive Leadership Program. The program included four in person seminars; three in Boston and one in Israel. It was a truly transformative experience. I am so grateful for the opportunity which the Mandel Institute afforded me to learn alongside 19 of my peers from various Jewish organizations across the country and from many excellent faculty members and advisors. I am also so incredibly thankful for this community that invested in me by allowing me to participate in this program, something that took me away from my work at times. The program concluded with capstone presentations by each program fellow on their vision for the future of the Jewish community.
Much of my vision has been inspired by our amazing community here in Delaware, and I’d like to share an abridged version of the speech I presented. You may have heard me lead the Hatikvah at the J’s Annual Meeting or at Jewish Heritage Night. I never could have expected this path for myself, and I’d love to tell you why.
I never had a bat mitzvah.
Growing up, that was something I was embarrassed to admit.
I am the only child of Jewish parents from the Soviet Union. I immigrated to America at the age of five and knew very little of my Jewish heritage at the time. My parents and grandparents had lived as second-class citizens under a repressive, antisemitic regime. For them, being Jewish was a stain.
Once we arrived on US soil, the frigid hostility my family had been accustomed to gave way to a warmer reception from Jewish organizations like the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society and the Klein JCC in northeast Philadelphia. The tzedakah provided by the local Jewish community through these organizations introduced me to Judaism, and even made it possible for me to go to Hebrew school for a few years. My parents, however, were not really included in the learning process. I was left virtually on my own to learn that you don’t wear jeans to shul, that water fountains are off-limits on Yom Kippur, that the salami sandwich my mom packed me for snack was forbidden altogether. And, once the initial immigrant support period expired, my parents were not able to continue my Jewish education on their own.
So, that sense of being a part of a Jewish community ended, as did the learning. I remember sitting through the bat mitzvah of a classmate and feeling like I had to move my lips along with the prayers to fit in, even though I couldn’t remember how to read them. Similarly, I remember a moment in second grade when I had to draw a picture of what I would like to give my mom for Mother’s Day and then describe it to the class. I didn’t know what Mother’s Day was to begin with, but I guessed, and drew flowers. The adjective I came up with to describe them in the English I had only recently learned was “smelly.” I knew immediately that I had said something wrong when the class erupted in laughter. There were so many moments like this in both Jewish and secular spaces where I felt different and alone.
When I heard about Birthright Israel, I was eager for an opportunity to learn about and connect to my heritage, and hoped that I’d meet other Jews like me. On my Birthright trip as a young adult, I was among several women who had not been bat mitzvah’d, so we had a ceremony together on Masada. It was the first time I felt comfortable admitting what had felt so shameful before. It was during this moment of hope that I knew that there was a place for me in the Jewish community and that I wanted to be a part of shaping what it could look like in the future.
Several years later, I began raising a family and working right here at the Siegel JCC. Going to weekly Shabbat celebrations in the Early Childhood Center, I took
it all in. I learned all the songs. I felt a part of it. I got to learn these traditions with my peers, and it felt equitable. Putting my arms around my neighbor and proudly singing Hinei Ma Tov, I finally felt comfortable being the type of Jewish person that I am.
Yet, when I look around, people are missing. We are only attracting a small portion of the Jewish population, and I wonder where they are. My hunch for why they’re not showing up is that they are afraid they may not be welcomed or because they don’t belong.
I want as many people as possible to experience the magic I have, without questioning whether they are Jewish enough.
As a Jewish communal leader, I feel both passionate about and responsible for creating inclusive, welcoming Jewish spaces where people feel comfortable being their authentic Jewish selves. My vision for what that looks like is made up of three components: Education, Service, and Connection.
Education: Are we willing to teach but also Education: Are we willing to teach but also to learn?
A sense of belonging can be created through education and information sharing. This starts with engagement and inclusion, which can be fostered through learning opportunities offered in a non-judgmental and equitable fashion.
I experienced this when my younger son, Shiloh’s, bris was hosted in the Kehillah Lounge, surrounded by our J family. All in attendance could share in the joy and deep meaning of this ancient tradition. Everything was explained in a warm and welcoming manner, such that everyone in that room was made to feel like their presence was important, as well as a true mitzvah.
If my parents had a similar opportunity to learn alongside me as I have with my own children, our family could have experienced the beauty of Judaism together.
Service: Are we willing to be creative in how Service: Are we willing to be creative in how we interest people in showing up?
I remember once signing up for a high school day of service hosted by the Klein JCC. I hadn’t set foot in there for 10 years even though it was the place where I was first introduced to Judaism. I hadn’t felt compelled to visit because I was so disconnected at that point. The service opportunity drew me in and made me feel like I was in the right place at the right time. I cleaned a garden that day (for the first and last time in my life—I leave that work to my husband now), but there was so much good that was done by hundreds of teens that day.
Through service, we expand engagement and connection. Acts of service are an example of Jewish philanthropy. Service opportunities make Judaism more accessible and consumable, and maybe even less intimidating. It’s also a value that can be shared with children and serve as a gateway to philanthropy for young adults who can share their time, when that is their most valuable asset.
Service is centered around the value of tikkun olam, repairing the world. It goes beyond just serving the Jewish community. It’s about supporting people not because THEY are Jewish, but because WE are. The community is stronger when all its parts are built up. Service is a way to combat hate of all forms, including antisemitism.
Connection: Are we willing to stretch to Connection: Are we willing to stretch to include people?
I have grown up celebrating Russian New Year (Noviy God), a secular holiday that was invented to replace Christmas by the Soviets. We put up a tree adorned with ornaments, exchange gifts, and drink and celebrate each New Year’s Eve. This tradition is one that I want to share with our community, without fear of judgment that it is somehow related to Christmas or makes me less Jewish. I’m also sure I’m not the only one who celebrates differently, and I would love to welcome more people into my home for the party.
Downplaying others’ traditions doesn’t lift up our Jewish identity. We can certainly educate and share on Jewish traditions and create programming around Jewish holidays, but it does not have to come at a cost of making someone else feel that their traditions are less valuable or makes them an “other.”
Connection is what makes the world go around. Fostering opportunities for people to find connection, to see what they have in common, and build micro-communities can be our path to success.
What I bring to the Jewish communal space is the deep belief that we have a responsibility to meet people where they are and create a sense of belonging no matter where they are in their Jewish journey.
Creating Jewish communal spaces where we educate, provide service opportunities, and connect people are the keys to the future of the Jewish community; it depends on it.
I want to create a world where my kids live without fear of being laughed at or excluded.
A world where it’s OK if they don’t have bar mitzvahs or if they do.
Where they are not called “other,” but rather “brother.”
