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Gevura Davis
Sasha Rogelberg | Staff Writer
R Courtesy of Gevura Davis
ebbetzin Gevura Davis jokes that she and her family are
available 24/6, every hour, every day of the week, except for
Shabbat. But even that’s not completely true.

On Saturday mornings, Davis and her husband Rabbi Binyomin
Davis, the spiritual leader of Aish Chaim, a Modern Orthodox commu-
nity, host more than 25 people around the kitchen table of their Bala
Cynwyd home, where the lively group studies together.

Facilitating Jewish study and supporting community members in
everyday and life cycle events are part of the job of a rebbetzin, which
Davis believes is often misunderstood.

“A lot of people don’t understand necessarily what a rebbetzin is or
why it’s a title,” she said. “It’s not a job; it’s a lifestyle.”
As both the rebbetzin at Aish Chaim and an educator at The Chevra, a
10 FEBRUARY 9, 2023 | JEWISH EXPONENT
group of 20- and 30-something Jewish
professionals looking for Jewish educa-
tion and connection, Davis is the glue
for her communities. Her responsibili-
ties range from teaching and speaking
nationwide about mikveh and family
purity to attending a school play for a
young community member to getting
coffee with someone in need of advice
or support.

Davis balances her responsibilities
with parenting five children and running
marathons with her husband. (They’ve
run five marathons in four years.)
“You’re helping people through their
marriages; you’re helping people with
the most intimate things in their lives,”
she said. “It’s unlike any other job really.

It never ends.”
Though Davis’ educational founda-
tions come from Modern Orthodox
values and traditions, many of her
students and over half of the congre-
gants at Aish Chaim do not identify as
such. The goal of Davis’ classes is not
to convince young Jews to practice
their religion and culture a certain way,
but to get them to care about being
Jewish. This generation of Generation Z and
millennial Jews is eager to ask questions.

Davis wants to break free of the rote
learning styles that can get stale.

“The essence of Judaism is choice and
free will,” she said. “… We want people to
be empowered with knowledge. We
want people to make educated choices
about how they want their family to look,
who they want to marry, how they want
to raise their kids. We want it to come
from a place of empowered and inspired
knowledge — not just because their
grandparents told them they had to.”
The answer to the core question of
Davis’ work as a Jewish educator — why
should one care about being Jewish —
didn’t come easily to her.

As a child growing up in Marietta,
Georgia, Davis was raised proudly
Jewish, but her parents, unaffiliated
with a synagogue or denomination,
were not traditionally observant. Davis
was one of 10 Jews in her high school
population of 450. Instead of attending
Shabbat services, she enjoyed going to
church with her friends.

At Emory University, filled with
existential questions, Davis enrolled in
a class on Holocaust education taught
by Deborah Lipstadt, now the United
States Special Envoy for Monitoring
and Combating Anti-Semitism. Davis’
father insisted that she take the course,
having a hunch that Lipstadt would
one day become famous. The class
changed Davis’ life.

“It opened my eyes, and I started
thinking a lot about existential
questions,” she said. “And I felt like I
was living a dual life: At night, I was a
typical wild and crazy sorority girl, but
then, during the day, I would read things
like Primo Levi’s autobiography and
watch concentration camp footage.”
The class made her think about life’s
purpose: to bring “as much light into the
world to combat all the darkness.”
Davis packed her bags and spent
a year studying abroad at Hebrew
University in Jerusalem. She gradu-
ated college at age 20, and from there,
her life snowballed. After graduating in
May, Davis made aliyah in June, met
her husband in October, got engaged
in December, and married the next
March. The couple had their first child
the following February.

After five years in Israel, the couple
felt pulled back to the U.S.

“At the time, Jewish education
needed a real revitalization,” Davis said.

The young family moved to Kansas
City, Missouri, for eight years before
settling in Philadelphia, joining Etz
Chaim, which later merged with Aish
Philadelphia to become Aish Chaim.

Just as their Jewish community has
changed over the years, the Davises
are adapting with it, offering music and
opportunities to interpret and find new
meaning in ancient Jewish texts. And
just as Davis found a revitalized Jewish
identity, she hopes the same for her
students. “Every generation needs a new spirit,
a new energy,” she said. ■
srogelberg@midatlanticmedia.com



editorials
Trial by Billboard
T here was a skirmish last week in the Bay Area
between the forces of Zionism and anti-Zionism.

It took the form of messaging and, interestingly, the
chosen platform was not social media but billboards.

The warring parties are JewBelong and
Jews4FreePalestine. JewBelong is a nonprofi t
organization that began as a sassy and inviting voice
promoting Jewish life and Jewish festivals to all Jews,
including children of mixed marriages, secular Jews
and converts. Its edgy yet inviting holiday themes
grabbed attention and developed a following. More
recently, its focus shifted to advocacy for Israel and
calling out antisemitism. It uses signature hot-pink
signs and provocative phrasing to attract readers and
promote its message. Jews4FreePalestine is an ad hoc
group of self-described “anti-Zionist” Jews (who won’t
identify themselves) who oppose what they call Israel’s
“apartheid and occupation.”
Following the recent controversy at the University of
California-Berkeley Law School over pro-Zionists being
banned by some groups on campus, JewBelong posted
the following message on billboards in the area: “You
don’t need to go to law school to know that anti-Zionism
is antisemitism.” In response, Jews4FreePalestine
papered over three of JewBelong’s billboards so they
read, “You don’t need to go to law school to know that
anti-Zionism is anti-racism.”
Jews4FreePalestine’s vandalism is unacceptable.

The vandals should be punished. But the Bay Area
billboard war has made us think about billboard debate.

There is limited space for a message on a billboard.

Competing eff orts to turn a catchy phrase and attract
reader attention forces proponents to fi nd ways to
advance arguments in concise yet impactful ways that
sometimes ignore nuance and maybe even common
decency. In this case, the two sides are fi ghting over
the meaning of “Zionism” and “antisemitism” — two
commonly understood concepts that are powerful and
heavily meaningful.

Zionism has been the banner under which Diaspora
Jews have made aliyah, fulfi lling the movement’s highest
goal: the ingathering of the exiles. For Zionists, Israel is
the righting of a historical wrong; a proud declaration
of Jewish sovereignty; and a shining example of
democracy in an otherwise repressive neighborhood.

For them, Israel’s existence is a hard-fought and
enduring fact. Those hostile to the state of Israel are
less accepting of its right to exist and see the Israel-
Palestinian confl ict as a simple matter of obtaining
justice for the underdog.

Lately, “antisemitism” has been introduced into the
debate. Antisemites are haters. They are racists. They
act against Jews not because of anything Jews do, but
simply for the fact that they are Jewish. Still, how does
one defi ne an antisemite on a billboard? At a time of
rising antisemitic incidents and a growing sensitivity to
the deeply corrosive threat that antisemitism poses for
our society, we need to be careful how that particularly
sensitive phrase and accusation are used.

Not everyone who disagrees with Israel is an
antisemite. Nor is every criticism of activity in one of
our Jewish communities antisemitic. There are far too
many hateful antisemites who plague our society, and
they need to be stopped. We encourage vigilance.

We support actively exposing the haters. But we urge
care in being too quick to label all Jewish-related
disagreement or criticism as antisemitic.

The bottom line, however, is that all of this is far too
complicated to be battled on a billboard. ■
Blinken Visits Israel
State Department photo by Ron Przysucha/ Public Domain
T here were a lot of moving parts that added complexity
and diplomatic tension to Secretary of State Antony
Blinken’s recent trip to Israel and his meetings with Israeli
and Palestinian leaders. There was also a lot of nuanced
messaging. And behind the smiles, warm handshakes
and public pronouncements of support, unity and shared
values, he delivered some sobering messages.

In his meeting with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin
Netanyahu, Blinken made clear just how concerned the
Biden administration is with the new government’s plan
to overhaul the country’s judicial system. Although he
couched his public comments in traditional diplomatic
and respectful terms, Blinken urged Netanyahu to seek
a wider consensus before moving forward with his
coalition’s controversial plan. He leaned heavily on the
shared, core democratic values that have been the
foundation of the U.S.-Israel relationship for the past 75
years, including the rule of law and, by implication, an
independent judiciary.

The comments were signifi cant because it is rare
that America weighs in on domestic legislation
of its allies. While Netanyahu appeared to take the
comments in stride, many in his coalition did not, with
some coalition members and at least one minister
critical of what they saw as eff orts by Blinken
to interfere in Israel’s internal matters.

From left: U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken
and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu
Blinken’s diplomatic skills were further tested in his
meeting with the aging and increasingly marginalized
Palestinian president, Mahmoud Abbas, whose
Palestinian Authority and security forces have been
weakened over the past several years, including losing
control in Jenin and its refugee camp, and a noticeable
ebbing of control in Nablus as well. Both West Bank cities
have seen increasing Israeli military raids with Israeli
offi cials saying they are necessary since P.A. security
forces aren’t doing their job. Blinken urged Abbas to
accept and implement a U.S. security plan aimed at
re-establishing P.A. control over the two Arab cities as
part of an eff ort to de-escalate the mounting cycle of
violence and the threat of a third intifada.

The U.S. security plan involves the training of Palestinian
forces to counter the mounting infl uence of Islamic Jihad,
Hamas and armed militias who have largely replaced
P.A. security forces in Jenin and Nablus. But Abbas is
said to have balked at the plan since it doesn’t include
limitations on incursions by the Israel Defense Forces
and doesn’t provide a mechanism to build support for the
faltering P.A. and its security teams.

In remarks at the end of his visit, Blinken was relatively
upbeat. He avoided confrontation with Netanyahu and
his coalition over his democracy comments by saying
that it is ultimately up to the Israeli people to work things
out. And with respect to the Palestinians and related
security and mounting violence concerns, he didn’t
claim success but pointed to “some concrete ideas from
both sides that, if pursued, would really help diff use the
current situation.” Blinken said that he has asked two
of his senior State Department offi cers to stay in the
region to help facilitate progress in defusing tensions
and enhancing security cooperation between Israel and
the P.A.

All in all, it proved an impressive diplomatic dance by
Blinken. But, one wonders, to what tangible eff ect? ■
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