Lisa's Long View: I went missing once... I won't again.

On January 1 I began my term as our Federation’s fourth CEO. To understand where I plan on going in this role, it’s important to understand what brought me to this point. So, allow me to re-introduce myself by taking you all back in time. I went missing. You could’ve called me an off-the-grid Jew. It didn’t really happen on purpose, and after almost two decades on the back of the proverbial Jewish milk carton, I don’t think anybody would’ve guessed that leading the revitalization of a small Jewish community would become my life’s work. But here I am. A girl who went missing… whose mission it now is to make sure we don’t let our community go missing. A little bit more than 46 years ago, I was placed into foster care with Jewish Family Services in Chicago. Eventually I was adopted by a family who put Jewish life at the center of our family life.

When I went away to college, I went to Hillel during freshman orientation and put my name on every single sign-up sheet. But I never heard back… not one call, not one event invitation. I went back several more times for high holiday services and the like but found myself sitting alone. I felt forgotten, I felt invisible, but it didn’t rattle my identity as a Jew because it was so ingrained in me by my family and my upbringing.
In my 17-year-old mind, I didn’t really pay much attention to how much that would affect me and how big of a hole that was creating. In fact, I wouldn’t realize there was a hole until much later in life.

After college, we moved around quite a bit, to places where there weren’t a lot of Jewish people — the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, South Dakota, Vermont. These moves reinforced that I was “alone” in my Judaism. When our first child, Madeline, was born, my mom signed us up for PJ Library. I now had the responsibility of creating a Jewish home for my children, but I was alone in doing that. But I had those books, and I had my upbringing to rely on. That’s the way I thought it was going to be. I had been doing this alone, off the grid, for over 13 years at that point, I had it down.

A few years later, when we were getting ready to move to Youngstown, I packed up our house and changed our address with PJ Library. I thought that would just mean our books would come to a new address because I had no idea there was a Jewish community here. But when we got here, I started getting PJ Library event invitations. At the prompting of my cousin, Melissa Bateman, I packed my kids up in the minivan, drove a half hour north, and found this 18-acre campus of Jewish life and other Jewish families.

So, just like I had done when I went to Hillel many years ago, I put my name on every sign-up sheet. But this time was different. This time they called. Soon I was going to temple and was invited to be part of the Federation’s Young Leaders program. And then almost seven years ago, I was invited to join the staff. And now I’ve been chosen to
lead our Federation… the first woman to do so in our 89-year history.

Changing the address for our PJ Library books had “found me.” I was no longer missing, I was no longer off the grid. Somehow, these books had led me “home.” I could easily say my life and career had come full circle at that point. JFCS took in a newborn with no home and found me a permanent one. And now it was my job to help JFCS thrive. It was full circle. I had paid back the ultimate cosmic debt. But I still didn’t feel like my work was done, like my debt had been repaid, like that hole of having “gone missing” had been filled.

What I found was a gem on our city’s northside, a campus bustling with Jewish life that I never knew existed. But some of those who grew up here see sadness. A shell of what once was. Our community was built when the population of Youngstown was 170,000, now it’s 59,000. Our campus was built to serve 8,000 Jews, but it now serves 1,200 and is only able to stay open because we also now serve the general community.

Since I didn’t know there was a Jewish community in Youngstown, I’m seeing it as 0 to 1,200. Those who grew up there see it as 8,000 to 1,200. There are those in our community who think we should just give up because we’re shrinking. It will be an uphill battle and take every one of us in that room to flip that narrative. As someone who’s been “doing Judaism” alone for so long, 1,200 is so much better than being by yourself. And sharing it with the general community is so much better than not having it at all. I will never give up the argument that we 1,200 are just as worthy of our services as those that were here back in the “hey-day.”

At every moment in my life when my Jewish identity could’ve been lost or diminished, it wasn’t because of the upbringing I was given, so I know that if we invest in the “core” of those that are still in Youngstown, we are creating the next community leaders, hopefully for Youngstown, but if not, for our Jewish People as a whole and that’s still worth something. Because even if they move to other communities or go off the grid, they will have a tether in their hearts that will someday bring them back.

And while we can, we should reinforce that tether with every resource we have by continuing to invest in programs like PJ Library and other programs that find young families where they are and ensure those families aren’t just getting books in the mail, but an outstretched hand back “home.”

Ours will not be a story of shutting down.

Ours will be a renewal story. A story of a phoenix rising from the ashes of the rust belt. Not as big as it once was, but small and mighty. Right sized and strong.

It won’t be the Jewish Youngstown it was 89 years ago. It never will be. It shouldn’t be.

For too long we’ve let what’s happened around us influence our decisions. We’ve been reactive, now we’ll be proactive. What we need to do now is a rebirth. Looking at who and what we have and recreate Jewish Youngstown. Not a new chapter, a new book, so those dwelling in the memories of what once was can compartmentalize and mourn and move into our new reality. One that we need at this moment. One that can be a model for other small Jewish communities across North America, because we are not the only one looking at shrinking numbers, lack of lay leaders, aging populations, and the real threat of having to shut doors of temples and other Jewish institutions.

I went missing once. But I will not go missing again. And we will not let Jewish Youngstown go missing. We owe it to those who built it, those who are here now, and those who are yet to come. Because no one should “do” Jewish alone.