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 For decades, Jewish Family Service of Tidewater and Beth Sholom Village shared a commitment to serving older adults through a continuum of care. The two agencies helped build successful hospice and palliative care services, while each also operated home health programs. As the healthcare landscape changed, JFS ended its home health program, and the hospice program was sold. Beth Sholom later closed its home health program and sold “the Home,” but its commitment to supporting Jewish seniors continued.

 Today, that shared legacy is taking new shape. JFS continues to offer a broad range of services, while Beth Sholom advances its mission through the Beth Sholom Village Foundation, which invited local organizations to apply for funding to support seniors. Jewish Family Service, along with several other organizations, received grant funding to help meet the growing and changing needs of older adults.

With support from the grant, United Jewish Federation of Tidewater and JFS will work together to develop programs that engage Jewish seniors across multiple areas, including fitness, education, social connection, and cultural experiences. The agencies also hope to strengthen collaboration with other organizations serving older adults throughout the region. 

 “There is so much we can do by working together,” says Kelly Burroughs, chief executive officer of Jewish Family Service. “Increasing social and educational activities, cultural experiences, and accessibility for older adults is one of the agency’s primary initiatives this year. Doing this in partnership with our sister organizations means that we can make an even larger impact.” 

 Betty Ann Levin, executive vice president/CEO of United Jewish Federation of Tidewater, agrees, noting that “the Sandler Family Campus is an ideal location for engagement across program areas, including health and wellness classes in conjunction with JFit, intergenerational engagement with PJ Library and Strelitz, and through our Center for Active Living at the Simon Family JCC.”

 The vision extends beyond campus-based programs. Through the BSV Foundation grant, JFS will expand its social service continuum for older Jewish adults by offering case management and coordination for critical support such as transportation, financial assistance, burial assistance, home safety modifications, shopping help, and light housekeeping. The need is already clear. “Within the first two weeks of the grant,” says Burroughs, “JFS received three requests for assistance with burial arrangements, two financial assistance requests for eviction prevention, and one request for repair of an air conditioning unit.” These services can make the difference between crisis and stability, helping older adults remain in their homes, age in place, and stay connected to community. One donor recipient, who was struggling to pay their mortgage due to some temporary challenges, recently shared their appreciation:

“It is difficult to put into words the immense relief and peace of mind your support has given me. Your kindness has made a profound difference in my life.”

Jewish Family Service, along with fellow grant recipients are building services that honor the generations who helped shape this community—and ensuring that older adults and people with disabilities continue to be cared for with dignity, compassion, and connection.

 “My mother was a very astute businesswoman and quite visionary, and I am certain I am aware of her intentions as I worked closely with her and on her testamentary plans,” says Michael A. Glasser. “Rose Frances and Bernard were an outstanding team. My mother worked for decades at our law firm aside my father and later with my brothers and me. 

 “We can honor their memory and also elevate those she would intend,” he says. 

 According to Glasser, the reasoning behind the gift to the paper, is that Jewish News is an “essential connection to the greater Tidewater Jewish community and is extremely critical while Jews and Israel are targeted with harassment.” 

Ross Glasser, a grandson of Rose Frances and Bernard, notes that Jewish News “connects us all.”

Rose Frances Levinson Glasser, who lived to be 101, is said to not have wasted a moment. 

 According to her obituary, “When Rose Frances would speak, people would listen. She could be feisty when the circumstances required it and everyone knew where Rose Frances stood – always on the side of her family.”

 She graduated from Maury High School (Class of 1932) and Ohio State University (Class of 1936) with a degree in social work and took graduate courses at ODU. Her first full-time job after college was working for the City of Norfolk assisting families in need during the Great Depression. She dated and then married Bernard Glasser, a young Norfolk lawyer.

After Bernard’s death in 1983, Rose Frances spent three consecutive winters in Israel volunteering on various projects including knitting clothing for the Ethiopian immigrants, working at the Israeli Ministry of Justice, and at Israeli libraries binding books. 

 The generosity and vision of Rose Frances and Bernard Glasser continue to be honored today and for future generations. 

 Reflecting on the resurgence of antisemitism, Holocaust denial, and what he called the “anti-history” engulfing much of the world, Ferguson reached a painful conclusion. “The goal of my entire career as an historian was to ensure that citizens learned the lessons of history. … Yet today … anti-history is spreading like a cancer. The Holocaust is either denied or derided. I have to admit: I failed utterly.”

 His words resonated with me because they capture what many Jews are experiencing today. I understand why he feels defeated, but I simply don’t think defeat and failure are the same thing.

The purpose of historians

Antisemitism has returned to the mainstream. Holocaust denial has become fashionable and even expected in some circles. And far too many young people are historically ignorant and seem detached from even the most basic knowledge of the past.

 But I think Niall reached the wrong conclusion about both his work and that of history more generally.

 He did not fail. Rather, he expected history to accomplish work that history has never been able to achieve on its own.

 His mistake was understandable. Historians preserve the past. Their task is to recover it, explain it, place it in context and protect it from distortion. That is indispensable work. However, preserving the past and transmitting it are different responsibilities. Historians can document a civilization. They cannot, by themselves, persuade civilizations to remember.

 The Jewish tradition has understood that distinction for thousands of years. Judaism never assumed that facts speak for themselves or that historical knowledge automatically becomes moral wisdom. Instead, it taught those lessons around the dinner table, in the synagogue, and from one generation to the next.

Remember

The Hebrew word is zachor — remember. It is not advice; it is a command and is an idea that I first encountered when I was in elementary school. I vividly recall being taught to remember that we were strangers in Egypt, that we must remember Amalek and the Sabbath, and that very Covenant itself is sacred.

 Former Columbia University professor Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi observed in his landmark book, Zakhor, that “remember” appears in the Hebrew Bible no fewer than 169 times, with either God or Israel as its subject and that is no accident. Memory, in Judaism, is not simply a feeling or an act of nostalgia — it is an obligation.

 Yerushalmi’s central insight in Zakhor was that history grows more important precisely when memory grows weaker. As the ordinary practices that carried Jewish memory from one generation to the next became less secure, Jews increasingly turned to writing history. History expanded as memory contracted.

 That is a lesson worth remembering far beyond the Jewish experience. We often assume that historical knowledge is enough — that if people learn the facts, they will reach the right conclusions. But facts alone do not sustain a civilization. Judaism has always demanded something more: not simply that we know the past, but that we remember it.

 The holiday of Passover may be the clearest example. Every year Jews gather around the Seder table not simply to recall the Exodus but to enter it. The Haggadah instructs every person to see himself as if he personally came out of Egypt. Parents tell the story and children interrupt with questions; this is celebrated and encouraged. Meals, songs, ritual, and repetition give the story emotional weight until it becomes part of a family’s identity rather than simply another historical event.

 That is how Jewish memory survived nearly 2,000 years of exile, persecution, dispersion, and hate. History and scholarly pursuits certainly mattered and remain central to Jewish life, but they were never sufficient. For centuries, families, synagogues, schools, and local communities carried memory together until it became woven into the rhythm of ordinary Jewish life.

What has changed

Many of those institutions — Jewish and non-Jewish alike — are weaker today. Families spend less time together. Religious participation has declined. Voluntarism has declined. Civic organizations have withered. Schools often struggle to transmit a shared civic inheritance.

 I do not need polling to tell me something has changed. I have seen the resurgence of antisemitism where I teach, online where anonymity magnifies hatred, and on the streets of New York while walking with my children. What Ferguson describes is not an abstraction. It is part of daily Jewish life once again.

 It is tempting to blame social media and artificial intelligence for what we see today. I think that gets the causal arrow backward. AI and social media did not create this problem. They exposed our cultural weaknesses. We have become very good at preserving, but much less good at passing on memory.

 Immediately after the Shema, Jews are commanded: “You shall teach them diligently to your children.” That command assumes something important. Memory is fragile and if neglected or ignored, even the most important truths disappear.

 Bernard-Henri Lévy recognized this almost immediately when he responded to Ferguson online. “No, dear Niall,” he wrote, “this is not a failure; it is a defeat. … Antisemitism may win battles, but not the war.”

Handing down memory

Lévy was making a profoundly Jewish point. Judaism has never confused survival with uninterrupted success. The covenant never promised that evil would disappear or that exile would never come. Instead, it made remembering part of everyday Jewish life — in homes, holidays, prayer, and study. That is how the story endured.

 Historians preserve the past. They recover forgotten truths, challenge falsehoods, and help us understand where we have been. But they cannot do the work of memory. That responsibility belongs to families, schools, congregations, and communities.

 That work falls to the institutions that turn history into memory. It happens around dinner tables, in classrooms, in congregations, and anywhere one generation takes responsibility for the next.

 Years of studying politics, sociology, and my own religious tradition have led me to the same conclusion: Communities survive because they hand something down. Historians record that inheritance. Families and institutions transmit it.

 So no, Niall — my friend — you did not fail. The work to which you devoted your life still matters. I, for one, am grateful.

 You did what great historians are called to do: preserve the record, challenge falsehoods and help us better understand the past. But history alone cannot carry a people or stop dangerous, irrational movements like anti-history from gaining so much power and influence. I wish it could, but that work belongs to memory — to families, congregations, schools and communities willing to pass an inheritance from one generation to the next.

 History preserves the past. Memory preserves a people.

Samuel Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute, and a scholar with the Sutherland Institute.

I joined the United States Navy in 1980 to protect the very freedoms that allowed me to live and pray as my Jewish ancestors did. Growing up with the heavy knowledge of the Holocaust, hearing on the news the persecution of Soviet Jews in the 1970s, and understanding the millennia of global antisemitism faced by the diaspora, I knew that we as Jews in America were profoundly privileged. I recognized how precious America’s liberties truly were, and I chose to devote 38 years of my life to defending this nation—to giving back through service for all the freedoms it had bestowed upon my family.

 I was determined to serve openly as a Jew. I wanted our country to recognize that American Jews stood up and contributed far beyond the realms of science, law, and academia; we were willing to put our lives on the line and pay the ultimate sacrifice in uniform. I never asked for personal recognition or gain. I only wanted to ensure that my service—and the morals and ethics of my Jewish faith that guided it—would be remembered as an undeniable thread in the fabric of our military and our nation.

 Realizing for the first time that so many who came before me served bravely but are no longer remembered accurately in their faith sends a chill through me. It leaves me deeply dispirited to think that any Jewish service member could be mistakenly buried under a Latin cross—that being forgotten remains a distinct possibility.

 In Judaism, honoring and remembering the dead is one of our most sacred obligations (Chesed shel Emet), yet history has shown it was no longer a certainty. Witnessing the sacred work of Operation Benjamin and its partner initiative, Operation Levi, has completely restored my faith. They ensure that the sacred memory of those who went before me will be faithfully preserved.

A hunch that restored history

History is not preserved by accident; it endures because individuals choose to investigate and set things right. The entire mission began with a simple, unsettling, and paradigm-shifting observation by Operation Benjamin’s co-founder, Rabbi Dr. Jacob J. Schacter. Like me, most Jews who visit the Normandy American Cemetery are deeply inspired by seeing the Stars of David scattered among the graves. Yet, looking across that vast sea of white marble, Rabbi Schacter instinctively did the math. Knowing the true demographics of World War II service members, he realized Jewish soldiers were profoundly underrepresented among the endless rows.

 He shared this hunch with his close friend Shalom Lamm—an entrepreneur, cantor, and knowledgeable military historian. Together, they hired a summer intern to comb through military databases and archives. They quickly realized these Jewish heroes were not missing; they were misidentified and buried under Latin crosses. While the exact reasons for each case are lost to time, it is highly likely that many of these World War II soldiers changed their religious designations out of a realistic fear of Nazi capture or hid their faith due to the prevailing antisemitism among their fellow soldiers. Others, despite having the Hebrew mark stamped on their dog tags, were simply misclassified in the frantic, overwhelming rush of battlefield burials.

 Their first breakthrough was Private Benjamin Garadetsky, a Jewish GI buried under a cross in Normandy. But Rabbi Schacter and Shalom Lamm quickly discovered that correcting history would not be easy. They had to navigate dense military records to prove definitively
that the soldier was Jewish. Furthermore, to legally change a headstone, the American Battle Monuments Commission (ABMC), the federal agency tasked with overseeing and managing all of America’s foreign military cemeteries, requires the formal consent of the closest living relatives to correct the headstone. And they had to convince and overcome an initial reluctance of the ABMC who had complete authority over all American Cemeteries overseas and was not used to doing this. Schacter and Lamm convinced them that it was not only important to the Jewish community, but the right thing to do. This forced the team to launch extensive genealogical searches to track down living descendants for their signatures—a process that took more than a year and a half. Finally, with the family in attendance, they replaced the Latin cross with a Star of David in Normandy, and Operation Benjamin found its permanent name and its sacred calling. And in this process, they established a great partnership with the leadership of the ABMC and now can expedite the process to a matter of months.

The dead bring the living together

This past June 2, I was invited to take part in an Operation Benjamin ceremony at the Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery in Verdun, France—the site of some of World War I’s bloodiest conflicts. On the first day, we gathered to replace the Latin crosses with Stars of David for five Jewish American heroes: PVT Samuel Tamkin, PFC Barney Bardman, PVT Samuel Backer, PVT Hyman Aronoff, and PFC Maurice Akabas. One can only imagine the immense difficulty of conducting flawless genealogical research on soldiers who died more than a century ago, a testament to the tenacity, rigor, and devotion of Operation Benjamin.

 While we were there to honor these fallen soldiers, a profound truth became clear: they were there for us, too.

 Through this painstaking genealogical work, families who had no idea of their relation to these soldiers—or that other branches of their family even existed—were brought together, spanning from Israel to the far reaches of the United States.

 One such family member was Rabbi Wayne Franklin of Providence, Rhode Island, who received an unexpected, out-ofthe-blue call from Shalom Lamm. Fortunately, the surname Lamm carried historical weight for Rabbi Franklin due to a lineage of prominent rabbinic scholars, so he took the call. Shalom explained that they had discovered a Jewish soldier named Maurice Akabas buried under a Latin cross, and that research proved Rabbi Franklin was the soldier’s great-great-nephew.

 Flabbergasted and left speechless, Rabbi Franklin readily accepted Shalom’s invitation to join the delegation in Verdun. He knew he had distant relatives in Texas, where Akabas had enlisted, but his family had long since lost touch with them. Standing in that sacred space, looking upon his ancestor’s gravesite alongside long-lost relatives he was meeting for the very first time, the experience completely revived his family’s sense of strength. It reawakened a deep pride in both their country and their Judaism. Not only were the living giving value to the dead by restoring their Jewish identity, but the dead were giving value to the living by reuniting families and restoring pride.

Day Two: My participation in Operation Levi

On the second day in Verdun, June 3, I had the profound honor of participating in Operation Levi. Inspired by the achievements of Operation Benjamin, while working together to find a U.S. Jewish officer missing in action for 79 years, the Secretary General of the German War Graves Commission, retired German Brigadier General Dirk Backen, had his own “hunch” while visiting a World War I German cemetery and spotting a Latin cross marked with the name Levi.

 His investigation confirmed that Private Meyer Levi was indeed a Jewish German soldier who had been mistakenly buried under a Christian symbol. Recognizing that remembrance transcends nationality, General Backen contacted Shalom Lamm, inspiring a sister initiative named in Private Levi’s honor. The Operation Benjamin and Operation Levi genealogy and history teams now work hand in hand to find these soldiers and correct the history. It is an amazing collaboration.

 To witness this ceremony was deeply moving. As Jews, our memories of Germany are overwhelmingly dominated by the horrors of Nazism and the cataclysm of the Holocaust. Yet today, their modern war graves commission is doing breathtaking, sacred work to restore the identities of Jewish German servicemen of World War I—men whose heritage and headstones had been systematically targeted and erased by the Nazi regime during the occupation of France. By actively tracking down these forgotten graves and replacing the crosses with Stars of David, they are confronting their history with absolute moral clarity. It was a privilege to see Operation Benjamin recognize General Backen by presenting him with the first-ever Order of the Marble Star of David for his courageous leadership.

A final salute

Standing there over those two days, a rush of profound emotions filled my mind. I saw that the Meuse-Argonne cemetery is meticulously maintained to extend the ultimate respect to the fallen. Inscribed on its chapel wall are these remarkable words: “This chapel is erected by the United States of America as a sacred promise of a grateful people with its immortal dead.” This transforms a burial ground into a living legacy.

 During the ceremonies, Rabbi Schacter offered a blessing, the families spoke, and Kaddish was recited. Attendees watched with damp eyes as workers carefully removed the white marble crosses, wrapped them in white cloth, and replaced them with the symbol of Judaism. These crosses were not cast aside in anger; they had guarded these men with dignity for more than a century, and we bid them a respectful farewell.

 As the new Stars of David were unveiled, I added my own slow salute to each soldier. To stand there as a veteran, a Jew, in uniform, and a witness was an indescribable honor.

 How we bury our dead reflects how we value life. Thanks to the shared sacred work of Operation Benjamin and Operation Levi, heroes on both sides of a global conflict are finally memorialized accurately. In restoring their identity, they restored a piece of ourselves, proving that the bonds of family, faith, and country can never be broken.

Postlude

Joining us for the ceremonies was my friend Michael Oren—former Israeli Ambassador to the United States, Knesset member, acclaimed author, and historian. Michael’s own father fought bravely in World War II during the famous Battle of the Bulge, giving him a deep personal connection to this sacred ground. Together, we reflected on how much the 250th anniversary of America means to the world—a milestone mirrored in the diverse men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice and lie buried across Europe, as well as those still actively serving our nation today.

 We talked in awe of those early Jewish soldiers who took up arms not long after arriving on American shores, stepping forward despite the prominent domestic antisemitism of the era. They understood the vital importance of Jewish Americans fighting for national security. This enduring legacy of America’s global perception at 250 years is still critical to the State of Israel and the historical ties—both democratic and military—that have bound our two nations together through the centuries. It is a critical dialogue that must be heard and continued.

To learn more or support legislative efforts such as the Fallen Service members Religious Heritage Restoration Act, visit www.operationbenjamin.org.

A decade after becoming an executive assistant at Beth Sholom Village, the mother of three is now arguably at the center of the entire local Jewish community as its executive director. “We sold the nursing home and assisted living facility (the Terrace) in 2023 (the College Park campus is now Maimonides Health Center), then partnered with Pembroke Square Associates to build Aviva Pembroke, the senior living independent high rise adjacent to the former mall,” she says. At that point, Krajesky, who had earned a license as a nursing home administrator and become BSV’s vice president of administration, was wondering about her own professional future.  

“Nobody knew Beth Sholom better than Lauren,” says Fay Silverman, now BSV’s chairman of the board. “We had to decide whether to continue constructing more senior housing in the region or take interest income from the sale proceeds and invest it back in the community.” The board went with the latter option and fortunately, Krajesky was available, willing, and able to steer the effort. “We could not be more excited to have her lead our next chapter as a principally grant making organization.”

 Beth Sholom Village and Pembroke Square have hired an experienced outside firm, Greenbrier Associates, to manage Aviva and its 153 apartments, 114 of them for independent living, 27 for assisted living, and 12 for memory care residents. 

 “My office as well as my assistant and religious director are at Jewish Family Service on the Sandler Family Campus,” says Krajesky. For the team, it’s an ideal location, given that several of the agencies based there, such as United Jewish Federation of Tidewater and JFS itself, are two of 24 beneficiaries of the first $837,000 the Village has distributed in 2026. “Chabad of Tidewater, Congregation Beth El, Ohef Sholom Temple, Temple Israel, and Strelitz International Academy are others that have received money to fund projects to help seniors with transportation, health care, food insecurity, the arts, and other essential services,” says Krajesky.  “But it’s not just Jewish groups that we’re supporting.”

 The Judeo-Christian Outreach Center, Virginia Opera, Peninsula Agency on Aging, Prime Plus, Meals on Wheels, and Habitat for Humanity are also benefiting from BSV’s support.   

 “Habitat is using the money to repair homes for low-income seniors and Virginia Symphony is taking a quartet to senior living facilities,” says Krajesky, who spent considerable time this year making local non-profits aware of the opportunity. “We expect that many of these first recipients will continue to apply for contributions going forward but that more will join them as they become aware of us. It’s a real blessing to be able to help.”

“Beth Sholom Village was always a critical provider of housing and health care services for seniors across the region,” says Silverman. “Now we have a different mission. With Aviva filling up and having strong professional oversight, we can focus on using our resources to make a difference for others. It feels really good to do this.”

And Lauren Krajesky is directing it all. “It gives me so much pride to collaborate with our committees to review applications,” she says. “And the dollars will grow.”  Indeed, she expects BSV may have a million dollars or more to donate each year going forward, based on the stock market. “I will be able to walk downstairs and see patients, caregivers, and professionals interacting in JFS Alzheimer’s Café or drive over to the Dozoretz Hospice House, the only one of its kind in Hampton Roads, to see our investments at work.”

For more information on the Beth Sholom Village Fund and how to secure assistance, visit 

bethsholomvillage.com or call Lauren Krajesky. She’s more than happy to help share in BSV’s good fortune.   

 Margaret Sawyer and Alice Titus, co-chairs of Ohef Sholom Temple’s archives, along with their team, spend hours each week exploring and preserving documents, photographs, and oral histories that chronicle nearly two centuries of Jewish life in Tidewater. 

 Both women devote their Wednesdays to the temple’s archives as volunteers. Their motivation is simple.

 “American Jewish history sometimes gets omitted,” says Titus. “Sometimes it’s because people don’t know it. Sometimes it’s because they choose other things to focus on.”

 While researching local stories, Titus was struck by how often Jewish contributions appeared only in passing. “You pick up older histories of Norfolk and Tidewater, and they only sometimes mention a Jewish person. They only sometimes mention a Jewish congregation,” she says. 

 OST’s archives provide a fuller picture of the region’s development by documenting the civic, cultural, and philanthropic roles Jewish residents have played throughout Tidewater’s history. 

 “We’re collecting things that have not been published or mass circulated,” Titus explains. Unlike a library, which houses published materials that can often be found elsewhere, archives preserve unique historical records.

 The work is meticulous, but it often leads to unexpected discoveries. Volunteers spend hours cataloging documents, rehousing materials in archival folders, and learning the stories behind each collection.

 Researchers, filmmakers, authors, and family members regularly turn to Ohef Sholom’s archives for assistance. For example, the archives supported research into the SS Quanza, a ship carrying Holocaust refugees back to Europe that had to stop for coal in Norfolk in 1940. Records preserved in the archives documented the efforts of local Jewish leaders who advocated for the passengers. 

  “I don’t think there’s ever a Wednesday that somebody doesn’t have an ‘aha’ moment,” Sawyer says of the archives’ team’s regular meeting time. “All of a sudden something jumps out at you.”

 In addition to preserving historical records, the archives also connects families to their own history.

 One day, while sorting through family records, Sawyer found handwritten notes created decades earlier by a congregant who had passed away, but whose family still belonged to the temple. She made copies and passed them along to the woman’s granddaughter. 

 “She was in tears,” Sawyer recalls.

 In another particularly meaningful case, the archives provided documentation that helped establish a deceased woman’s Jewish identity, allowing her to be buried in a Jewish cemetery in New York City.

 Those moments transform routine archival work into something more personal, offering glimpses into lives that might otherwise be overlooked.

 Among the collection’s most valuable holdings are more than 40 oral history interviews, preserving the voices and experiences of community members.

Titus and the other volunteers also offer educational programs and presentations highlighting the archives’ collection and efforts. 

 For Sawyer and Titus, preserving history is about more than organizing old documents. It is about ensuring that future generations inherit stories and hear the voices that shaped Jewish life in Tidewater.

 Last December, volunteers at Temple Emanuel started this project by tearing down old coat racks, repainting the walls a calming blue and installing stained glass paper on the windows to give the hallway a shiny glow. As it is with many projects, one bit of inspiration lead to another. The hallway was beautiful, but it was now glaringly obvious that the classrooms, floors, doors, and ceiling needed lots of TLC.  

Fast forward a few months and a lot of hard work, and thanks to a generous grant from Tidewater Jewish Foundation, Temple Emanuel Religious School has undergone extensive renovations and will be able to realize the dream of a new school building. 

The renovation goal is to modernize the aesthetic while maintaining historical integrity. First, the beautiful parquet floors were refinished. Next, volunteers and contractors tore down the textured, stained wallpaper and hand scraped glue off the walls, priming it for paint. The lower elementary classroom doubled in size to give the children a larger space to move through multi-sensory learning centers. Finally, ceiling tiles are being replaced, doors are being sanded and repainted, and all wall décor is being redesigned. 

The final product will be a cheerful, modern, nurturing school environment that will match the motivating energy from the teaching team. The grant helped transform an archaic space into a lively, energetic learning environment. 

Registered and prospective families are invited to Temple Emanuel Religious School’s open house on Sunday, Aug. 23 at 10 am to see the final product and learn more about the school. 

Dr. Sarah Davis is Temple Emanuel’s Religious School director.

 More than a meeting, the occasion was a celebration of JFS’s decades-long commitment to caring for individuals and families across Hampton Roads through the enduring Jewish values of chesed (loving kindness), tzedakah (justice through giving), and tikkun olam (repairing the world).

 One of the meeting’s highlights was the installation of Steve Brown as the new president of the JFS board of directors. Brown will serve a two-year term, helping guide the organization as it continues to meet the changing needs of the community with compassion and dignity. The organization also recognized Stephanie Peck, outgoing board president, for her dedication and leadership. Peck served as president from April 2024 through June 2026, and her commitment helped strengthen JFS’s mission of serving others with respect, responsibility, and heart.

 Kelly Burroughs, JFS CEO, presented the Distinguished Community Service Award to Lawrence Steingold in recognition of his many years of dedicated service to Jewish Family Service. Steingold has served as a board member, board president, and treasurer. His leadership reflects the Jewish principle of avodah, sacred work done in service of others. Steingold’s long-standing commitment has helped JFS grow, adapt, and continue providing care to people who need it most.

 The Distinguished Community Partner Award was presented to St. Stephen Martyr Catholic Church for its generosity and dedication to clients in the Public Adult Guardianship program. Each Christmas, members of the church ensure that every client receives a thoughtful gift, reminding them that they are remembered and cared for during the holiday season. This partnership is an example of neighbors coming together across faith traditions to uphold the shared values of dignity, compassion, and care for the vulnerable.

 Rabbi Pinchas Zimmer shared an inspiring D’var Torah, offering words that connected the day’s celebration to the deeper responsibility of community: to see one another, to care for one another, and to pass that responsibility from one generation to the next. 

 Guests enjoyed a delicious Mediterranean lunch catered by Charlie’s Mediterranean.

 Over the past year, JFS has continued to make a difference throughout Hampton Roads. In 2025, JFS provided 362 medical transports for seniors, delivered 7,458 meals to homebound individuals, assisted 346 Jewish individuals with food and financial support, delivered 984 holiday gifts to seniors, and provided court-appointed guardianship services to 1,333 adults. Behind each number is a person, a family, and a moment when help arrived with dignity. Together, these services reflect not only a year of impact, but a legacy built over decades of showing up for the community in times of need, transition, celebration, and uncertainty.

 One of the most meaningful parts of the afternoon was seeing so many generations of the JFS family together in one place. Former leaders, current board members, staff, volunteers, donors, and long-term supporters gathered to honor the organization’s past while looking toward its future. Their presence reflected the Jewish value of l’dor v’dor, from generation to generation, reminding everyone that the work of JFS is both an inheritance and a promise: to preserve what has been built, to strengthen what is needed today, and to ensure that compassionate care continues for generations to come.

 The Biennial Meeting was a celebration of leadership, service, and community, as well as a heartfelt thank you to everyone who helps Jewish Family Service continue making a difference every day. For decades, JFS has stood as a trusted source of support, compassion, and practical assistance. Guided by Jewish values and sustained by the dedication of its community, JFS will continue to provide care, dignity, and hope for individuals and families now and for generations to come.

Julie Kievit is Jewish Community Services manager at Jewish Family Service.

 Jewish life in Tidewater is built on connection, community, and caring for one another. Whether someone has lived in the area for decades or is new to the area, there are countless ways to become part of something bigger than oneself.

 One can celebrate a holiday with friends, visit the Simon Family JCC, support a local Jewish organization, cheer on a community fundraiser, attend the Viginia Festival of Jewish Film, or spend time getting to know someone from a different generation. This list could go on forever.

 But wait, there’s something else to add to the list. Become a BeAR mentor.

 For one hour each week during the school year, BeAR volunteers read with second graders in local Title I schools. It sounds simple, but that hour becomes something special. Children build confidence, discover the joy of reading, and know that someone believes in them. Mentors leave with something too, a sense of purpose, new friendships, and the satisfaction of knowing they’re helping shape the future of the community.

 There’s a reason Judaism places such value on caring for others. Communities don’t become strong by accident. They become strong because ordinary people choose to show up for each other.

 As the new school year approaches, BeAR seeks caring adults in Norfolk and Virginia Beach who are ready to make a difference – one child and one hour at a time.

 The next chapter starts soon, and there’s always room for one more person to help write it.

To learn more about becoming a BeAR mentor, contact Robin Ford at 757-321-2304 or rford@ujft.org.