I Wasn't A Proud Jew

Prior to October 7, I wasn't a proud Jew. It's not that I was actively not proud. It's more that I've been a hurting and somewhat lost Jew.

​My dad died when I was 17. While I didn't feel like I fit in with my shomer shabbat Jewish community before my dad died, I spent many years after his death needing a break from Judaism because so much of it was just too painful without him, and I couldn't wrap my head around how someone so good and so beloved and so righteous - a pillar of the community - could die so young. What good are these rituals, like the mi sheberach prayer that was said for him for 4-and-a-quarter years, if someone like him could die at age 53? 

One of my favorite pictures of me and my dad

Elie Wiesel visited my home on the day of my dad's funeral. He was in town to speak at my shul, and he learned about my dad. He was escorted into my parent's room to speak privately with me, my mom, and my sister. I remember very little of the interaction and of the day, but it's been a quiet prideful memory that I've held since then and rarely shared until recent events. 

​On the Yom Kippur before October 7, I began thinking about what it meant to be the type of person that Elie Wiesel would want to honor in death. 

​My dad loved being a Jew. He cherished our culture and heritage. He was so knowledgeable that people assumed he was a rabbi or cantor, while, in fact, he was a systems engineer with a PhD in artificial intelligence. 

October 7 hit me with the reality of being Jewish. The risk, but also the prideful, special beauty.

While I felt like a paralyzed mess the first few days after the massacres, by October 10 I was beginning to take action. First, to try to take care of my Jewish legal community's well-being. Then, to try to understand what actions needed to be taken and by whom to support Israel and fight antisemitism. What began without a plan quickly spun into something much bigger than I could have anticipated.

While the dark we have seen since October 7 is stark, the light I have personally seen has been incredible. The friendships I have made, the collaborations I have enabled, the lengths my community has gone to help our people when we have a mere hours to accomplish the impossible has been astounding. None of the things "I" have accomplished would have been possible without our community joining forces in a shared mission of survival. 

Me (Ariella Cohen Coleman) with Rami Davidian, Israeli hero who saved 750 youngsters from the Nova Music Festival on October 7.

Jews stick together. It is how we survive. 

​We each - not just Jews, but our allies, too- have something to bring to the table. Skills, expertise, networks, money. 

​CHOSEN is where we put all of what we have to good use to ensure the safety, survival, and pride of our people.

​I use my skills as an attorney, master connector, and a get sh*t doner to support our people. I invite you to join me in standing as a strong, prideful Jew or ally and using whatever you've got on the table. 

Join CHOSEN.