Face-to-face encounters with Israeli educators of all backgrounds made my recent trip to Israel with the Mandel Foundation unlike any other previous one. Even though I’ve committed my career to Jewish education, which at Ramah camps also includes significant Israel education, I never had an opportunity to see firsthand how education works in Israel for Israelis. I had read about the structure of the school system and how its divisions mirrored those of Israeli society writ large. But I had never actually spoken with teachers, principals, and students about their day-to-day experiences of teaching and learning.
While I came in primarily seeking to learn from our many school observation visits, and I sure learned a lot, I also appreciated moments when we could engage in dialogue with Israeli counterparts, and share some of our own educational concerns in this challenging moment for Israel, for the Jewish people, and for the world.
Mandel-Israel Fellows in the North
We had two such opportunities with Israeli Mandel Fellows. One took place in the north, with the Mandel Principals program at Oranim College. I sat around a table with three principals, all citizens of Israel: Hila, who was Jewish Israeli; Alia, who was Druze; and Eman, who was Arab-Palestinian.
Eman asked us Americans what relationships were like these days between Arab and Jewish communities in the States. I answered honestly and painfully that October 7th and its aftermath have expanded rifts between our communities. While there were previous moments of solidarity, like after the Tree of Life and Christchurch, NZ attacks, post-10/7 relations have instead been characterized by distrust and difficulty communicating how deeply and differently these times have affected us. These principals, much more proximate to the actual war, manage to sit in dialogue and educational exchange every single week. When will we be able to build such bridges across gaping divides here?
Mandel-Israel Fellows in Jerusalem
The other opportunity to meet with Israeli Mandel Fellows happened at the beautiful Mandel building in Jerusalem. There, I sat across from Nadav, a seasoned high school principal. I told him about the confusion I feel these days about the place of American Jews in our society, with political forces instrumentalizing our vulnerabilities and fears for their own purposes. Responding to my concerns, Nadav pointed me toward a speech by the influential labor Zionist and educational thinker Berl Katznelson, a key figure in Nadav’s own professional development.
Once I got home, I explored the Katznelson speech Nadav recommended, titled “In Favor of Perplexity Against Whitewashing.” Delivered in June 1940—as France capitulated to the Nazis and the Hitler-Stalin pact remained operative—it addressed the young socialist educators navigating that stark reality in pre-state Israel. Katznelson validated their perplexity; he cautioned forcefully against demands for simplistic faith and the dishonesty inherent in “whitewashing” traumatic events.
This ‘perplexity’ that Katznelson identified resonated with my own confusion today. His educational guidance for navigating this emotional state compelled me. Even though he was secular, he believed that developing resilience required immersion with Jewish history and sources, especially the Tanach. He argued that authentic leadership was not located in feigned ideological certainty, but in unwavering ethical principles, like the foundational Jewish idea that all human beings are created in the divine image.
Yad b’Yad (Hand in Hand)
Katznelson’s words lit up another aspect of our time in Israel: our visit to a Yad B’Yad bilingual school. Located on the campus of Beit Berl College—named for Katznelson himself—this school brought coexistence education vividly to life. Colorful courtyard decorations vibrantly wove together Hebrew and Arabic descriptions of recent Purim celebrations and ongoing Ramadan observances.
The school’s principal, Mohammed Kundos, a Mandel alum, articulated a profound truth when he spoke to us: authentic learning, much like playing music, requires navigating tension. He later played the oud for our group; his performance transcended the notes—it embodied connection across differences, all grounded in the ethical respect for every person that Katznelson described back in 1940. To witness such powerful educational spaces endure and strive against the backdrop of pervasive conflict offers us both a model and a challenge for figuring out how to bridge real divides at home.
I offer immense gratitude to the Mandel Foundation for bringing us to such places to inspire such questions, and for investing in us as educational leaders so we can bring our own visions closer to reality.
-Daniel Olson: Cohort II, Educational Leadership Program