Collecting People, Collecting Moments

I just returned from the Jewish Federations of North America General Assembly (GA), and I’m still thinking about it — less about the (really inspiring) sessions and more about the people, the ones I’ve known across so many different chapters of my life.

There were the Federation colleagues from the earliest days of my career, when I was still learning the rhythm of Jewish communal work and figuring out who I am and the impact I wanted to make. There were AJC friends who walked with me through national moments that mattered — people with whom I traveled, advocated, debated, and grew. And then my decade at the William Davidson Foundation: years of building, imagining, questioning, learning, supporting, and being supported alongside some of the most remarkable professionals in our field.

And then there were the surprises — someone I knew from graduate school, before any of us had titles or portfolios or “expertise,” back when we were all just becoming ourselves.

What struck me most was this: Each hug, each conversation felt like opening a time capsule.

Not just in a nostalgic way — but in an integrated, deeply grounding way. Because every phase of my professional life has shaped who I am now. Every mentor, every teammate, every staff or lay leader.  Every Zoom meeting and phone call (okay, not every Zoom meeting). The late-night debriefs in a hotel lobby, the tough decisions. Every moment of laughter, and every moment of doubt — they all came with me into the room.

It reminded me that our careers aren’t linear. They’re circular, relational, braided together through people more than positions. Jewish life especially works this way — our networks don’t disappear, they evolve. Someone who was a colleague becomes a friend. Someone who was a mentor becomes a peer. Someone you barely knew becomes a collaborator twenty years later.

I’ve started thinking of this as a kind of relationship archive — not a static library, but a living one. A reminder that the people we collect along the way are part of our legacy, even long before we realize it.

And in a moment when so much of the world feels fractured, this felt like a quiet blessing: that we are shaped by each other, held together by shared work and shared purpose, connected not only by what we do but by who we become in the doing.

I left the conference with a full heart and a simple truth: The work matters. But the people — the people are what count.

So I have to ask: Which connections from your past still steady you as you grow into your next chapter?

Fondly,