This principle has been expressed by none other than King Solomon in the book of Mishlei (Proverbs): “As water reflects a face back to a face, so too does the heart of one person reflect the heart of another.” Our feelings and beliefs are sensed by those we encounter. Those feelings are sensed and then reflected back to us in the same way. When we express love, trust, and belief in someone else, we enable the other person to feel the same way about us. These positive feelings form the bonds of close relationships and are the foundation for continued inspiration and motivation to set high standards and accomplish goals which we may think are out of our reach. When we know someone loves us and believes in us, we can accomplish otherwise impossible tasks and withstand greater trials and tribulations knowing that we have the support we need to maximize our potential.

 The success of educators is inseparable from a closely developed relationship which is invested in over the course of a year or more. When learning is outsourced primarily to technology, however, a critical conduit is removed. Effective learning is built on trust, responsiveness, and human connection. This is echoed in social-emotional learning research which emphasizes that teachers create the environments and relationships in which students can thrive academically and emotionally. It is the relationship which is at the core of success.

 The presence of technology and its impact on our lives have been exponential. What is relevant today may already be irrelevant tomorrow. Simultaneously, our access to, and dependence on, cell phones and other tech has also increased. This has not only been true in our personal lives. In schools, screens have become ever-present on desks, in backpacks, and in lesson plans. The prevailing assumption has been that “more technology naturally leads to better learning.” Yet a growing body of data suggests that this assumption deserves to be revisited.

 As various sectors have begun to grapple with the balance between technology and the school environment, much of the discourse has been focused on students. Countless articles, news stories, and laws have attempted to comment on students’ distractibility, their dependence on devices, and their struggle to stay engaged. Far less attention has been paid to those who are meant to model the behaviors, interactions, and relationships we hope to instill: parents and teachers. Children learn not only from what we say, but from what we demonstrate. When teachers rely on screens as the primary conduit for instruction and engagement, the result is the implicit message being sent to children: mediated interaction is preferable to human connection.

 A visit to many schools will find that a typical classroom has a significant portion of its learning, especially in the formative elementary and middle school years, relegated to visual platforms. While these tools can be valuable supplements and play a significant role in differentiated instruction and data-driven education, their use raises a fundamental question: Is school solely about information transfer? If education is reduced to content delivery, then a screen may indeed suffice. But schools have never been only about information. They are equally about the development of the whole child intellectually, socially, and emotionally. 

 Eating away even further at the teacher-student relationship is “technoference,” the intrusion of technology into in-person interactions. When a teacher or student engages with, or via, a screen, the relational link is severed. Instead, a message, however unintentionally, is sent that the device is more important than the person in the room. The mere presence of a cellphone or tablet has been shown to reduce the quality of interaction, diminishing trust, closeness, and the depth of conversation. Perhaps most insidiously, screens foster a state of “absent presence,” in which individuals are physically together but mentally elsewhere, separated by their digital worlds. How can a teacher sitting at the desk bond with a student as they stare away in the opposite direction at a projector screen. How can students form a bond with one another when they remain individuals processing information from their own lens?

 Digital tools in the classroom can crowd out opportunities for hands-on learning and direct social interaction with teachers and peers. For younger students, this loss is even more significant as language development, cognitive growth, and emotional regulation depend on the back-and-forth responsiveness of an engaged adult.

 At its core, the relationship between teacher and student relies on the ebb and flow of interaction that blends the realms of physical, psychological, and emotional. When technology dominates the classroom, the harmony is disrupted. If we want attentive, socially capable, and emotionally healthy children, we must ensure that our classrooms remain places where human connection is central and where teachers teach not only with content, but with presence.

Rabbi Aryeh Kravetz is head of school at Toras Chaim.

 Although violent crime continued to decline in Virginia in 2024, the Commonwealth saw a 25% increase in reported hate crimes, with crimes involving anti-Jewish bias rising 154.5%, the sharpest increase among all categories tracked by Virginia State Police in their most recent annual crime report. 

 The IHRA definition states, “Antisemitism is a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews. Rhetorical and physical manifestations of antisemitism are directed toward Jewish or non-Jewish individuals and/or their property, toward Jewish community institutions and religious facilities.”

 “Every student in Virginia has the right to learn in an environment free from fear,” says Attorney General Miyares. “The IHRA definition provides schools with a clear framework to recognize and respond to antisemitic conduct and distinguish protected speech from unlawful discrimination, intimidation, and harassment.”

 In the letter, Miyares reminds school leaders of their obligations under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Virginia Human Rights Act, and Chapter 471 of the Acts of Assembly of 2023, which formally adopted the IHRA definition of antisemitism into Virginia law “as a tool and guide for training, education, recognizing, and combating antisemitic hate crimes or discrimination and for tracking and reporting antisemitic incidents.”

 Miyares further notes that federal and Virginia law already require schools to address discriminatory hostile environments based on shared ancestry and ethnic characteristics, including Jewish identity, and rely on the IHRA definition as a guide to recognizing when illegal conduct is motivated by antisemitism. 

Virginia State Police’s most recent annual crime report reveals that religion-based bias crimes increased by approximately 108.3% between 2023 and 2024, reinforcing the need for a clear, consistent framework to identify and address antisemitism in its various forms, including historical stereotypes and contemporary manifestations.

 In August, the Office of the Attorney General’s Antisemitism Task Force published a new lesson on antisemitism on Virginia Rules, the Commonwealth’s law-related education program for elementary, middle, and high school students. The lesson explains how Virginia’s antidiscrimination laws protect Jewish Virginians and offers students a primer on Jewish religion, culture, and history. 

 Following Governor Glenn Youngkin’s Executive Order 48, the Virginia Secretary of Education issued a model resolution to assist school boards in implementing the definition into their policies. Attorney General Miyares encourages school boards to review and adopt the resolution as part of their ongoing compliance with civil rights laws and their commitment to student safety and wellbeing.

 “Pushing back against antisemitism requires clarity, consistency, and courage. We cannot fight something we fail to define. By adopting this resolution, schools can meet their legal obligations while upholding constitutional principles and ensuring equal access to education for every student,” says Attorney General Jason Miyares. 

This article first appeared on American Enterprise Institute’s website.

Samuel J. Abrams is a Nonresident Senior Fellow at AEI. He lives in New York City, blocks from Park East Synagogue.

Pati Menda Oliszewski and her husband, Rabbi Ari Oliszewski, live with their family in Virginia Beach. They moved to the area in 2023.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of “Jewish News”.

The world’s attention is focused on New York City with Zohran Mamdani winning the mayoral election, and I want you to know how American Jewish Committee (AJC) is approaching this critical moment for our community.

First, we thought it was important to lead through a strong and unified Jewish community response, so last night we issued a statement along with UJA-Federation of New York, JCRC-NY, ADL New York/New Jersey, and the New York Board of Rabbis making clear that we will stand united as we hold Mayor-elect Mamdani “fully accountable for ensuring that New York remains a place where Jewish life and support for Israel are protected and can thrive.”

Next, my colleague, Josh Kramer, our Regional Director of AJC New York, penned a powerful letter to the Mayor-elect. In it, we tell the Mayor-elect, “We will be vigilant in ensuring that New York City government and your position as mayor are not used to hold Israel to a double standard or to attempt to isolate Israel economically in an effort to dismantle the world’s only Jewish state.” 

I want to focus on what comes next in New York City and beyond to address the profound concerns about what the future holds for Jewish safety and belonging.

(1) The Mayor-elect’s refusal to condemn “globalize the intifada” and use of the term “genocide” when describing Israel’s defensive war against Hamas is chilling. We’ve been very outspoken on both throughout his campaign. The intifadas weren’t abstract political movements—they were waves of terror that slaughtered innocent Jews on buses, in pizza shops, and at nightclubs. When protesters chant this phrase, they’re calling for that violence to spread worldwide. And to call Israel’s self-defensive military operation a “genocide” is not only factually and legally inaccurate, it provides fuel for extremist actors to turn to violence. AJC has been crystal clear: this rhetoric is dangerous, hateful, and incites violence against Jews. New York is supposed to be a city where everyone feels safe, where threats against any community are met with swift condemnation. Jewish New Yorkers are asking for nothing more than that same basic safety and respect. We will continue to press the Mayor-elect to clearly condemn and cease using these hateful terms.

(2) Despite having zero legal authority to do so, the Mayor-elect has doubled down on his plan to have the NYPD arrest the Prime Minister of Israel. The threat relies on a controversial and politicized ICC warrant that legal experts say is both unenforceable and potentially illegal under federal law. More than that, it would hurt—not help—the chances for long-term peace by imperiling Israel’s ability to negotiate in one of the world’s most critical diplomatic hubs. At AJC, we’ll keep pushing for peace and normalization through real diplomacy, making the case to anyone who’ll listen that more engagement is what creates a more secure Middle East. Peace doesn’t come from arresting leaders; it comes from bringing them to the table.

(3) Mayor-elect Mamdani has refused to acknowledge that Israel is both Jewish and democratic. Most Jewish New Yorkers believe that Israel should continue to be a Jewish and democratic state, one whose Declaration of Independence clearly states that “it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex.” Jewish New Yorkers have a deep connection to Israel, just as many Diaspora communities in the city feel to their respective homelands. At AJC, we’ll make sure the Mayor-elect and every leader in this city understands why Israel’s Jewish and democratic character matters—and we’ll fight to boost the “Hidden Voices” curriculum in New York City public schools, which provides curriculum resources, lesson plans, and workshops to highlight the histories and contributions of underrepresented groups in U.S. history. More NYC students need to learn about Jewish Americans’ contributions to our nation and understand Zionism for what it actually is: the right to Jewish self-determination in our ancestral homeland.

(4) Mayor-elect Mamdani has called into question the future of the Cornell-Technion partnership on Roosevelt Island, one of New York’s premier innovation hubs, fostering research, entrepreneurship, and U.S.–Israel collaboration. Ending this partnership would deal a blow to the city’s booming tech sector, chase away innovators, destroy vital educational opportunities, and damage New York’s reputation as a global business hub. At AJC, we’re mobilizing the business community and higher education leaders to defend this partnership, fight against BDS, and highlight what’s at stake: jobs, research breakthroughs, and New York’s competitive edge.

Here’s the bottom line: AJC will never stop fighting for the Jewish community. That’s who we are. It’s what we’ve always done, around the world and, especially today, in the city with the largest Jewish population in the Diaspora. The impact of language and policies of the Mayor of New York City doesn’t stop in Manhattan, Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens, or Staten Island. It reverberates around the world. And just as we defend every Jewish community around the world, today and in the months ahead, we’ll be standing proudly with New York’s Jews demanding the safety, security, and respect that we fully deserve.

Opinion pieces reflect the opinions of the writers, not of Jewish News or United Jewish Federation of Tidewater.  

Jon Polin is the father of Hersh Goldberg-Polin, who was murdered while in captivity by Hamas.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.

Rabbi Daniel Gropper is the spiritual leader of Community Synagogue of Rye in Rye, N.Y., where he has served since 2003. He is the immediate past president of the Westchester Board of Rabbis, serves on the executive committee of Repair the World, and is a founding member of the Rye Interfaith Clergy Association.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media, or of Jewish News.

Why? Because there is no liberation in setting people on fire. There is no justice in chasing Jews from public spaces. And you should know that hatred that is allowed to grow never stays contained. It always spreads. It always finds new victims and the people peddling in it will always create new grievances to justify more violence.

Say something. Silence is not love. Silence feels like abandonment. We need you to speak up. We have stood together for justice. Please do not disappear. We are still here. We need to know that you are too.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media or of Jewish News.

The Mishnah tells us that to destroy any life is to destroy a world, but to destroy the lives of two people about to start weaving their individual lives into a shared existence. . .well, a world is not a large enough metaphor to capture what has been lost. Getting married, even just planning to get married, is one of the most hopeful things a person can do, second only to choosing to raise children.

When I heard about the murders of Sarah Milgrim and Yaron Lischinsky outside the Capital Jewish Museum, I thought about Matt Eisenfeld and Sara Duker, also a young couple, also friends of my friends, who were killed together in a Jerusalem bus bombing in 1996. I also thought about Marla Bennett, the young woman murdered alongside eight others in the 2002 Hebrew University bombing.

Like Sarah and Yaron, Marla was on the verge of becoming engaged — to Michael Simon, who is now my husband. For the four years between 2002 and when we began dating, and into the early years of our relationship, her death was the single most defining event of Michael’s life. His pain was immeasurable. And I suffered for those first few years with the pain of knowing our love was built on a foundation of loss. I struggled with feeling that I’d always be a second choice, a consolation prize, and always imperfect alongside the burnished image of a woman who would never grow old, and, no matter what her faults were in life, would never fall short as a wife or mother.

Now, I find myself wondering whether Michael feels that Yaron got off easy, by dying alongside Sarah, and not having to live the rest of his life in the shadow of her death. I will probably ask Michael, to be honest, as, after all this time, we can talk about Marla’s death without dissolving into puddles of pain, sadness, and anger. I know already that the answer will be no. Living, even in grief and with tremendous pain, is always better. Our sons, who are 10 and 14, know about Marla. Years ago, we spent a day at the San Diego Zoo with Marla’s parents, who treated them not quite like grandchildren but still like very special people. They are friendly with a girl named for Marla, the daughter of her college roommate. I assume that as our sons grow older, they will understand better the horror of that bombing and others for Israel, for the Jewish people, for Michael, for me, and thus for them. For now, though, she belongs to our family’s prehistory, and their childish naiveté and self-centeredness lead them to think that those years don’t matter very much.

Sometimes I wonder: how did Michael and I do it? How did the pain and confusion contract enough that there was space for a new love to grow from fragile to strong, for a good marriage, a true partnership, two sweet children, and lives devoted to serving others? How is it that we argue now about how to load the dishwasher and not about whether we could ever possibly have a future together, whether Michael could have a future with any woman?

I remember the moment I decided I’d give Michael a chance, staring in the bathroom mirror, a little tipsy, at the Jerusalem restaurant where we had our first date in July 2006. It wasn’t particularly rational, and it was more than a little bit risky to take a chance on this broken man. It got a lot harder before it got easier, but eventually it became impossible to imagine my life without him or his without me. With time, I came to see that we were never building on loss, we were building beside it, its relative size diminishing as our relationship grew.

Now, as Sarah and Yaron’s families bury them and as our devastated community looks for a path forward, I believe my family’s experience can help chip away at the question of where to go from here. I want
to say that the answer is hope, that there is always hope, that hope is what brings us forward from pain into possibility, and yes, on some level, that is enough of an answer.

But the thing I’ve discovered about hope that I most want to share right now is that it isn’t always something you can sense or something you can recognize or be certain you have. It doesn’t always look like a diamond ring squirreled away in anticipation of an elaborate proposal, a beautiful wedding, and a delightfully shared future. Sometimes hope looks and feels like plain old foolishness, and the friends who hear about it respond skeptically with worry and warnings.

My story — my family’s story — is a very small piece of a much larger whole, he whole of the Jewish people, and the whole of all humanity, not just existing but persevering. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it to anyone as something to replicate, were such a thing possible. And yet, at a time like this, I am standing up to say: let’s not give up, not now or not ever. We must still believe, always believe, that there is potential or something better, even in the wake of the most difficult, most painful loss and even in the hardest moments when all we want is to crawl into a tiny hole and pretend that none of this exists, not evil, not despair, not any of it. We must continue taking chances, risking our hearts and our lives, and we must nurture whatever little glimmer of potential growth we may spot, not because we know what will be — we can’t — but because we need, in a way we can’t explain, to see how it might flower.

Soon we will mark 20 months since Oct. 7, 2023. It has been a grueling, unbearable time. Marla’s murderer was released from prison in exchange for Israeli hostages in January, as were the masterminds behind the bombing that killed Matt and Sara and dozens of others. The DC murders shattered whatever sense of safety we American Jews still had. It is tempting now more than ever to allow our grief to define us.

But if I know anything at all, it is this: pain and despair retreat into tzimtzum, into the sort of withdrawal that makes space for creativity, love, and growth, only when we plant our feet, stick our elbows out, and, like fools, insist that it do so. Without that, we won’t be able to see, let alone pursue, whatever tiny possibility of peace there might still be.

Claire E. Sufrin is editor of Sources: A Journal of Jewish Ideas, published by the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America, and co-editor of The New Jewish Canon: Ideas and Debates, 1980-2015. She lives in Evanston, Illinois, with her husband and children.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media or of Jewish News.

She was beloved by many educators, but like her fellow WWC speakers, David Katz, Hanns Loewenbach, Kitty Saks, and Mary Barraco, she was a particular favorite of Esther Goldman Award-winning master teacher at Indian River High School, Craig Blackman. At Dana’s funeral, he and I reminisced about the special days he organized for Mary, Kitty, and Dana at IRHS, bringing hundreds of students together to honor these brave women. He made sure the students knew how special the ladies were, and they created and performed art for them, cooked dishes from their native countries for them, and showered them with love. At the end of each day of honor, the students planted a tree in a memorial garden. Their trees still flourish, reminding faculty and alumni, and educating current students, about the powerful lessons these women shared.

It is the end of an era when perhaps we need the voices of survivors more than ever.

We are living in a time when the few who are left are seeing parallels to things they witnessed in Germany’s nascent democracy, that eventually led to the Holocaust –government officials tried to erase parts of the country’s history, stirring patriotism with scapegoating “the other.” This seems hauntingly familiar, as cultural conversations that were not long ago bringing us together to acknowledge our country’s checkered past and move forward with more unity, have shifted. History has many examples of how this can end, and none are pretty.

Kitty Saks, in her What We Carry film, talks about living through the Anschluss in Vienna and what came after, and her father’s “not seeing the writing on the wall.” When they came for his business, “THEN he saw the writing on the wall!” But of course, by then the snowball was already headed downhill and picking up steam. All of our beloved local survivors believed that America was a land of opportunity, and were grateful to have been able to make their lives here after their countries capitulated to dictatorship. But they knew that its success depended on the freedoms guaranteed by our Constitution.

Let us listen to the voices of history’s witnesses, its historians, and our hearts, and know that in our Democracy, we are all created equally, and our Constitution applies to us all. Survivors all tell a cautionary tale. We all need to remember that the Constitution itself, like the least powerful in our country, has no voice. Both need our defending. As Dana’s fellow survivor Hanns Loewenbach always ended his presentations, “Evil does not need your help. Just your indifference.”

Elena Barr Baum is a former director of the Holocaust Commission, and the current president of the Ukrainian Humanity Center (www.ukrainianhumanitycenter.org).