By Erica Brecher
I’ve just passed six months with the Buffalo Jewish Federation, and while you may have seen a lot of me, you may not know much about me. So here’s a glimpse into the real kishkes (guts) of my life beyond the role.
I’m a classic Millennial born in 1989. I straddled two worlds: the last generation to grow up with rotary land line phones and no computers, and among the first to experiment with dial-up internet and social media.
Today, that same in-between identity shows up differently; as a classic sandwich-generation daughter and parent. I am raising two young children and advancing a career. I have lost one parent, and my father, in his 70s, faces health challenges that often require my immediate attention. There’s little margin for error between my 9-5 and my 5-9. Life runs on a tight schedule, and anything unplanned feels disruptive and inconvenient.
Despite the harried nature of life, there will always be moments that force us to slow down. The need to drive to another city to help a parent, managing a toddler’s sudden sleep regression, or figuring out how to tackle unanticipated expenses, like suddenly needing to purchase a new car. The question that challenges each of us is how can we better accept and resolve to work through this reality?
Jewish calendar moments like Yom Hazikaron (Israel’s Memorial Day) and Yom Ha’Atzmaut (Israel’s Independence Day) also demand that we slow down. This practice follows how Israelis commemorate these holidays with a level of seriousness that translates to moments of silence, businesses that are closed for the day, and television programming changes. They are what Rabbi Donniel Hartman, founder of the Shalom Hartman Institute, describes as “speed bumps,” or intentional pauses that that ask us to reflect.
But what happens when the speed bump feels like an obstacle? When stopping isn’t just inconvenient, but destabilizing?
In my current stage of life, the speed bumps feel constant. My husband and I are raising our family without relatives nearby, my father’s needs can necessitate a shift in plans, a recalibration of priorities. All of this adds pressure.
And yet, I think about the people I recently met – specifically the Israeli guests who visited our community last month to help us celebrate and commemorate the Spring Yamim. They hail from Israel’s Eshkol region, Buffalo’s Partnership2Gether sister region, along the Gaza border. Both men were survivors of the October 7, 2023 Hamas attacks on Kibbutz Nir Oz – ground zero that day. Hardly a speedbump, they didn’t plan for disruption. Their experiences that day put anything we’ve ever called “inconvenient” into gross perspective. The scale of what they endured reframes that word entirely. Hearing about the fear, horror, loss, and exceptional bravery that upended their lives forever grounds me because the things I’m going through are not insurmountable.
The day after Yom Ha’Azmaut, one of our guests shared with me that he and his wife try to “stay in motion” as they continue to process grief and complicated feelings from October 7. As he searched for the right English phrase, I understood what he meant: they like to stay busy. Movement as a way forward. Not avoidance, but persistence. Action steps that build resilience.
It’s a mindset that resonates because, whether it’s something as small as a kid unexpectedly home with a daycare bug, or as heavy as caring for an aging parent, or as globally significant as navigating the aftermath of a terrorist attack, the truth is the same for us all: the only way forward is through. Through the mess, the uncertainty, the discomfort. Through the moments we don’t plan for and wouldn’t choose. As Rabbi Hartman put it, “We can’t always transcend ourselves.” And as Jewish tradition teaches us, Kol ha’olam kulo gesher tzar me’od, v’ha’ikar lo lefached klal. “The whole world is a very narrow bridge, and the essential thing is not to be afraid.”
In my own life, that means showing up the best I can and steadying what feels unsteady for myself and the people I love. Wiping tears after my child’s scraped knee. Helping my friends who are also feeling the sandwich squeeze. Being there for my dad, whose friends are passing.
I am compelled to remind myself, and my family members across generations, that there is a path forward, and we must take time to slow down and care for ourselves. Often, that path forward is inconvenient. But it is movement. And that, in itself, is resilience.
Erica Brecher is the Senior Director of Communications for the Buffalo Jewish Federation.
