As Mother’s Day approaches, my 6-year-old daughter keeps asking me what I want to do to recognize the day. Do I want breakfast in bed? To watch “Peppa Pig” with her? A walk in the park? All of these things sound wonderful, and I hope to enjoy all of them. But this year, for Mother’s Day, I am hoping for something else — not just for me, but for all of us lucky enough to be raising Jewish children.

Since Oct. 7, 2023, being a Jewish mother, while always a gift, carries a different weight. In the days, weeks and months after the horrors of that day, I don’t know of any Jewish mother who could easily put her child to sleep. My daughter was the same age as Ariel Bibas. Every single night that I put her in her crib, I saw his face. And each night, I would pick her up and bring her to my bed, afraid to let her go. 

Courtesy

Momentum CEO Tara Brown and her daughter, Eliora Mittleman, dressed as Bat Woman and Bat Girl in honor of the Bibas boys for Purim 2025.

I was not alone. Jewish women share a bond. When something happens to one of our children simply because they are Jewish, we all feel it. That link, that bond, is especially noticeable on Mother’s Day, a day when I can’t help but think about all the mothers having a very different day than I am.

I think of the mothers who were killed that day and will never experience another Mother’s Day. I think of the mothers of hostages held and killed by Hamas, and of the mothers of those murdered at the Nova festival and across Israel. I think of the mothers of the young soldiers who have lost their lives defending not only Israel, but Jews around the world. I think of the mothers in Israel helping their children who returned from captivity heal from trauma, from sirens and fear that have become part of daily life. I think of the mothers grieving children here in the United States and now London- children killed just for being Jewish. There are so many Jewish mothers suffering on this day. It is painful — at times, unbearable. 

But I also think of Rachel Goldberg-Polin.

I had the privilege of hearing Rachel and her husband, Jon, at my synagogue last week, and it led me to reflect on her journey, her pain and her wisdom. I went back to look at some of the things she has done and said since learning of her beloved son Hersh’s fate. While addressing the Yeshiva University graduating class of 2025, she said something that could have been said to Jewish mothers — and to Jewish leaders — around the world: “You looked at what connects us and you said: ‘My agony is your agony. Your pain is my pain.’”

And then, she gave the class a gift — one that each and every one of us, feeling the pain and weight of this moment, should seize. She said: “We people, we are not what we say. We are not what we think. And we are not even what we believe in this life. We are what we do. So go do.”

At a time with so many tears and so much pain, we — the drivers of the Jewish future — have a responsibility to do. For those of us raising the next generation, that responsibility begins at home, but it does not end there. We need to have the conversations and instill the traditions and legacies with our children that too many mothers have been robbed of. We need to strengthen our own Jewish knowledge and experiences so we can model the joy, resilience and pride we want to pass on.

We need to invest — in our families and in our communities. That means traveling to Israel and bringing our children. It means showing up — lighting Shabbat candles with intention, celebrating holidays not just as rituals but as living, breathing moments of connection. It means learning — engaging deeply with our history, our values and our texts so we can pass them on with confidence. It means building Jewish homes filled with meaning, where our children feel rooted and inspired.

It also means stepping into our roles as communal stakeholders. We need to give — our time, our resources and our leadership — to the institutions and organizations that strengthen Jewish life. We need to gather — creating and sustaining communities where Jewish families feel a sense of belonging and responsibility to one another. We need to stand up — against antisemitism, against isolation and for the dignity and strength of our people. And we need to lead — modeling resilience, hope and purpose so that our children don’t just inherit Judaism, but choose it, cherish it and carry it forward.

Yes, Jewish mothers are in pain right now. It is normal for us to feel tired, scared, fearful and anxious. But in the decades and generations to come, no one will look back and ask us how we felt. We will be judged on what we do.

So this Mother’s Day, in honor of Rachel Goldberg-Polin and all the other heroic Jewish moms, let us do something with purpose, meaning and intention — not only in our homes, but in our communities. Let us shine our bright, strong, enduring light. And let us embrace the responsibility — and the privilege — of shaping a stronger Jewish future.

Tara Brown is the CEO of Momentum, a global movement focused on the greatest influencer: the Jewish mother. Through journeys to Israel, leadership development and resources for Jewish learning, Momentum empowers moms to strengthen Jewish identity, connection and community.