Last night, the familiar wail of the siren jolted me awake just as I was drifting off. In the darkness, I had a flashback to the first siren I ever heard, fifteen years ago, shortly after making Aliyah to Jerusalem.

I had just lit Shabbat candles when a terrifying, alien sound tore through the settling silence. I was paralyzed; the concept of a missile alert in the Holy City was novel even to the sabras. I remember my neighbors chastising me with their eyes for being “hysterical” in front of my children. Not a good Israeli.

Today, when a siren goes off, I am reminded of the scene in Mary Poppins: “6 o’clock and all’s well!” Big booms, the house shakes, and then—back to our regularly scheduled programming. I am learning that in Israel, life doesn’t just stop for disaster; it reorganizes itself around it.

The Geography of Crisis

This “reorganization” of life isn’t just a personal survival tactic; it has been the backdrop of my entire career. For nineteen years, I have worked as a Jewish communal professional, witnessing firsthand how communities pivot when the ground shifts. From the halls of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), the world’s largest Jewish humanitarian aid organization, during the Ukraine war, the pandemic, floods, earthquakes and hurricanes, I have watched the “how” of disaster response evolve into a science of survival.

Even with nearly two decades of experience, October 7th triggered a personal crisis of purpose. At the time, I had briefly stepped away from the nonprofit world to lead a business development team at a sales software company.

The disconnect was jarring. While my LinkedIn feed was a relentless scroll of devastation, I was expected to lead discovery calls with CEOs in Europe about their sales pipelines. I found myself staring at the screen, paralyzed by the absurdity of the contrast. Does a more efficient sales funnel actually matter right now? I wondered. My world is on fire, why am I selling software?

The Return to the “Why”

That existential friction eventually pulled me back to where I belong: the heart of Israeli civil society. Today, I serve as Deputy Director of Amitim and Founder and Executive Director of the Galilee Eco Center. I sit at the intersection of experience and urgent need. At Amitim, we facilitate a leadership network where retired Jewish communal leaders—veterans who have steered through decades of storms—mentor the current CEOs of Israeli nonprofits. In fact, our founder, Michael Weil, served as CEO of the Jewish Federation of New Orleans in the aftermath of hurricane Katrina.

“In a crisis, the role of a CEO is uniquely isolating. They are expected to be the pillar for their staff, the voice of calm for their donors, and the innovator for their beneficiaries—all while their own children might be on the front lines or their own neighborhoods are under fire. Who holds up the person who is holding up everyone else?” asks Michael.

This is where the mentorship of Amitim becomes a strategic necessity. It is the “Why” that Viktor Frankl spoke of in Man’s Search for Meaning—the purpose that allows a person to bear almost any “How.”

I get to observe this synergy in Hodell Yeheskel, CEO of Eitan who manages therapeutic physical education for individuals with autism. His mentor, Elliot B. Karp, doesn’t just offer “consulting”; he shows up. When he joined the outdoor yoga class via Zoom—practiced just steps from a bomb shelter—he wasn’t just observing a program; he was validating a leader’s courage. That kind of solidarity is the difference between a CEO who burns out and a CEO who breaks through.

Mentorship allows these leaders to lean into the impossible. I see it in the profound synergy between women leaders who are holding the front lines of human dignity. Adi Oz, CEO of the Hope Center, is mentored by Orit Mizner (COO at Momentum), while Lilach Tzur Ben Moshe of Turning the Tables is mentored by Doris Jacobson (former Director of Community Philanthropy at the Jewish Federation of Orange County). These are not merely professional pairings; they are lifelines. Both Adi and Lilach lead organizations that support women escaping the vicious cycle of prostitution—a population for whom the sirens and instability of war can trigger devastating relapses into trauma. By having a veteran female leader to lean on, these CEOs gain the perspective and resilience they need to ensure no woman is left to face her fears alone. In this chain of mentorship, the wisdom of the past becomes the fuel for the present.

Anat Herrmann-Aharoni, CEO of the Hotline for Refugees and Migrants, observes that the war has shifted attention away from vulnerable populations and the rights of marginalized communities has become even more fragile. While Anat works tirelessly to ensure migrant workers and their families have access to safe shelters, her mentor, Lois Weinsaft, former ED of the Los Angeles Jewish Federation, supports her by strategically considering the best way to showcase the Hotline’s work and raise funds for these activities.

The “Why” of our work is further anchored by the wisdom of mentors like Tova Dorfman, former leader of the World Zionist Organization and the Steinhardt Foundation. Tova mentors Raz Avitan Katz, CEO of Lema’anam – Physicians for Holocaust Survivors. Together, they ensure that those who survived the darkest chapters of the 20th century aren’t left in the dark during today’s sirens, providing medical consultations and home visits that offer both physical care and emotional oxygen.

By stabilizing the leader, Amitim stabilizes the entire community they serve.

Planting for Tomorrow

While the Amitim network focuses on the human infrastructure of today, the Galilee Eco Center is my investment in the “after.” Rooted in the soil of the Upper Galilee, we aim to rekindle the Jewish people’s sacred connection to the land of Israel through regenerative agriculture, ecological stewardship, and sacred community. We’re creating a 22 dunam sanctuary for healing, learning, and renewal and in the process, healing both the soil and the soul of Israel. For some, a land based communal project might sound extraneous in the face of the urgent needs of war, but for us it is imperative remain positively focused on the fruits of the future.

Civil servants and nonprofit leaders are often utterly drained. But we also have the privilege to be sustained by the meaning found in the “why.”

Last night, after the sirens stopped and the “big booms” faded, I wasn’t paralyzed like I was fifteen years ago. I checked on my family, took a breath, ate two meatballs and remembered the work waiting for me in the morning.

I am no longer just “learning” to be Israeli. I am one of the architects of a society that refuses to be defined by the interruption. Whether it is a mentor guiding a CEO through Amitim or a seedling being planted in the Galilee, we are the proof that even if the house shakes, we will keep moving forward.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)