There are moments that linger long after the day is done, quietly powerful, deeply personal, and undeniably communal. That’s what this mini-mission to New York City became for me. Having co-chaired the Women’s Philanthropy Mission to Memphis a few years ago, I was excited to join the recent Women’s Philanthropy mini-mission to NYC to visit the Anne Frank exhibit.
We were met with rare sunshine for March and the warmth of our fellow travelers—Lions of Judah*, Federation staff, and women at various stages of connection to one another: some meeting for the first time, others reconnecting from the 2018 Federation Mission to Israel, and some I’ve known in our community for many years.
In this post-October 7th world, it is a comfort (and a necessity) to be surrounded by like-minded women who share values, purpose, and a deep commitment to the Jewish community here at home, in Israel, and across the globe. Among us were several mother-daughter pairs, adding another layer of meaning to the day.
Our first stop was the headquarters of the Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), where we explored the Jewish history preserved within the JDC Archives. Fittingly, the building’s lobby holds the largest globe in the world. As I watched it slowly rotate, I was struck by the overwhelming sense of how we are just one small part of a greater whole. How very poignant that it is housed so near the JDC offices, whose mission is to help Jews in all corners of the world. I am reminded of the Talmudic phrase “kol yisrael arevim ze l’zeh”—all of Israel is responsible for one another.
We heard about the Jewish historical archives that the JDC maintains and its humble beginnings. I was proud to learn about all the places where, with our Federation’s support, JDC has assisted and continues to support Jews with the basics of life.
A highlight of our visit was the story of Sasha, an 8-year-old girl who fled Ukraine with her mother at the onset of war.
Separated from her grandmother who is still living in Ukraine and her father, who is fighting in the war, Sasha and her mother began a new life in Warsaw with the help of JDC.
It moved many of us to tears. Warsaw, once a symbol of devastation for the Jewish people, has become a place of sanctuary. I thought back to our family trip to Poland in December, where we saw a similar revival of Jewish life in Krakow: a bustling JCC, a kosher café, and an active Chabad presence. It was Hanukkah, and each night, the menorah in the city’s main square was lit for all to see. Despite all that has happened, the Jewish people live on and cannot be destroyed.
We then heard from Linda Scherzer, Director of the Jewish Community Relations Council (JCRC) in Greater MetroWest NJ. She shared an update on Federation’s local efforts to address antisemitism—work that has expanded significantly in response to today’s realities. I was encouraged to hear about the formation of interfaith coalitions to foster understanding and shared celebration of culture.
Before we left JDC, we received a small but meaningful token: blue-and-yellow Kabuki doll pins. These dolls are given to children recovering from trauma and are used by trained therapists to help them process and tell their stories. I’ll be wearing mine at our Passover seders, sharing how, in every generation, a new Pharaoh arises. And still, we persevere.
At one point, Linda quoted Anne Frank:
“In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.”
These words have always held power, but now, they feel even more essential.
As our bus traveled through the city, several women shared personal stories of growing up as third-generation Holocaust survivors. They spoke of the emotional journey of encouraging their grandmothers to share their testimonies, and the responsibility they now carry to educate others, particularly schoolchildren, about their families’ histories.
Then came the Anne Frank exhibit.
We moved through it quietly, guided by audio tours on our personal devices. Everyone was immersed. We saw documents, family artifacts, and even the Frank family’s beautiful china. Details of their life before the war—Anne’s swimming lessons, their home in Amsterdam—offered a window into the ordinariness of their world before everything changed.
The re-creation of the annex gave us a visceral sense of their daily reality: Otto Frank’s thoughtful planning had provided games and a few comforts of home (like an iron), but life was dictated by strict rules to avoid discovery. Even in hiding, they tried to maintain dignity, routine, and hope.
The exhibit also houses a collection of Anne’s diary translated and published into different languages. One small voice, impacting millions, in perpetuity.
Anne Frank was just 13 years old. Yet her courage, clarity, and unwavering belief in goodness resonate like the roar of a lion. That symbol, our Lion of Judah, embodies strength, resilience, and moral clarity. Anne, in her own way, embodied all of that.
I left the exhibit thinking of that roar, Anne’s roar, still echoing, still stirring hearts, still reminding us to be brave, to speak up, to carry the torch.
Today, I’ll wear my lion necklace with renewed pride.
*Learn more about becoming a Lion of Judah for future opportunities like these missions.