For three weeks in July, I had the privilege of working and vacationing at my in-laws’ ranch in the Elkhorn Mountains of Eastern Oregon. I relish spending time there because the space — open fields, rolling hills, and gorgeous mountains — inevitably opens up space inside of me. Space for ideas, for inspiration, for possibility. And so naturally, when we come home, I miss this expansiveness. But upon returning to Seattle last month, the transition was harder than ever before. I found myself truly mourning the loss and reflecting on why.

In a post-October 7th world, being a Jewish communal professional focused on addressing antisemitism has felt ever more restrictive and isolating. From the outside, on the left, Jews are presented with one false binary – you can either support human rights or you can support Israel’s right to exist. From the outside on the right, Jews are confronted with yet another false binary—you can support Jewish safety or support democracy and civil rights. On top of this, we are further isolated from the inside as so many Jewish professionals and volunteers argue about what strategy is best to address anti-Jewish harm, compete with each other, or malign each other’s work.