Fulfilling A Higher Calling

“Please take off your badge as you leave,” the security officer mumbled to me under his breath. After attending the 2025 International Lion of Judah Conference in downtown Atlanta, I approached the Marriott’s squeaky, sliding doors to find my Lyft to the airport and fly back to Boston. The officer’s reminder was the same one I received last night during the community dinner, a time for our local groups to gather, which the only time I ventured from outside of the hotel over the past three days. Revealing we were Jewish without protection was not safe, just as it is not in many places around the world — a stark contrast from the warmth and comfort that overflowed from the hotel’s meeting spaces on the floors below me.

I stopped to carefully lift my badge over my ears so it wouldn’t catch my earrings like last night. I glanced down at the bold text of my name and community of Minneapolis below the silky lanyard of gold lions, representing the 1,700 female Jewish leaders in attendance and the 18,000 more who weren’t.

I noticed that my other necklace looked different. The clasp of the stainless-steel chain had opened, and the Bring Them Home plaque was missing. It must have fallen off somewhere between where I sat for my last session, learning about JDC’s lifesaving support for Jewish communities worldwide, and the two escalators I took to get to the hotel doors. I scrambled to rearrange my coat and bag, searching to see if the plaque had gotten stuck somewhere else on my body. But I couldn’t find it. As much as I wanted, I didn’t have time to re-trace my steps downstairs.

I’ve kept this necklace close to my heart since my mom gave it to me shortly after Oct. 7, 2023. In the aftermath of that day’s unimaginable tragedy and heartbreak, wearing it felt like one tiny way I could help bring each and every hostage home. One tiny way to show them and their loved ones that their pain was my pain. Their fight for freedom was my fight for freedom.

The post-Oct. 7 world was one of the main reasons I decided to attend year’s conference. Despite being raised Jewish and always identifying as such, at times I have felt disconnected from this side of my identity. I often questioned if it was in part from growing up in an interfaith family or raising one now, but I noticed these feelings beginning to exacerbate since Hamas’ heartwrenching attack 475 days ago.

I’ve been fortunate to get to see the power of philanthropy through my mom, Kris MacDonald, and her lifetime dedication to service. The Minneapolis Jewish Federation board is one of many she has served on for years. When she asked if I wanted to attend the conference together last fall, I was instantly interested. The thought of dedicating time to connect, learn, and give back to our people alongside her, one of my biggest role models, drew me in. My aunts and cousin, also my role models, would be attending, too. Sharing it with so many members of my family made it that much more special.

Since arriving, the sense of community was contagious. Now, the combination of leaving while frantically searching for my necklace, left me with tears rolling down my face as my Lyft slowly pulled away from the hotel. A few deep breaths helped me recognize that my tears were not only from my necklace missing and the conference ending. They were the result of the many emotions I experienced over the past three days.

Pride in my identity as a Jew, a woman, a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, an advocate, and a Zionist.

Awe for the strength, bravery, and vulnerability of Nova Festival survivors like Millet Ben Haim and Natalie Sanandaji, grieving mothers of victims like Sigal Manzuri, hostage family members like Rachel Goldberg-Polin and Jon Polin, Yarden Gonen, and Maya Roman, and Aviva Siegel, hostage survivor and wife of Keith, who is still being held in Gaza.

Inspiration from activists like Noa Fay, Samantha Ettis, and Dr. Cochav Elkayam-Levy, speaking out against rising antisemitism and for gender equality and human rights.

Empowerment to use my voice for good, even if I don’t feel qualified to respond.

Gratitude for the 1,700 dynamic female leaders, from Israel to the United States and from Canada to Guatemala, who are showing me just how to do that.

Then there’s hope. Our matriarch, Rachel, taught us that it’s mandatory. There are brighter days ahead. We will dance again. Families will sleep soundly without being awoken to sirens. We will no longer fight for Israel’s existence. We will wear our conference badges outside the hotel again.

I could feel this hope when I’m together with my fellow Lions. It was palpable. But as my Lyft traveled farther from them, it felt it was already wearing thin. If it weren’t for my family pulling me back to my new home in Boston, I would’ve asked the Lyft driver to return me to the hotel, where my group from my old home of Minneapolis was still together.

It will take some time to process and distill all I learned, the perspectives I gained, and the strength of community I felt. For now, one line in particular I heard rises to the top: “We love being Jewish more than anyone can ever hate us.” This unconditional love is at the heart of the Jewish tradition. It’s core to our everyday actions and will always be the underlying force that keeps us going. And as we collectively write our next chapter, knowing it will be defined by love is everything.

I approached the airport and kept moving forward. Without my hostage necklace and my Lion group, but with an abundance of love and hope. It’s time to amplify the voices I heard. It’s time to fulfill my shlichut, or my higher calling. It’s time to lead, not only for the Jewish people, but all of humanity.

I took out my phone to send a WhatsApp message to our group, wanting to thank them for infusing more meaning into the past three days than I could have imagined. Before I could hit send, I got distracted seeing news about an imminent hostage deal all over my feed. While we pray and we pray and we pray that it goes through, we are not done until every single one of our 94 remaining precious souls is freed. I rested my hand on my heart and no longer felt sadness for my missing necklace. I imagined someone new has found it and is joining us Lions in roaring loud and clear: BRING THEM HOME NOW.