When I left my communications job in the Jewish communal world in 2018, it was partly because conversations around Israel had become unbearable. I wasn’t disengaged; I was overwhelmed. The more I tried to hold empathy for both Israelis and Palestinians, the more impossible any path forward seemed. In a world demanding quick takes and clear sides, the murky middle felt like a lonely, perhaps nonexistent place. 

Seven years later, I’ve found my voice and a community that joins me in the grey. But too many of our Jewish institutions have doubled down on certainty, even as younger and secular Jews are increasingly asking for nuance and space to wrestle with complexity.

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The past few weeks have only sharpened this divide. The tenuous ceasefire in Gaza has unleashed celebration in some corners, condemnation in others. The “Rabbinic Call to Action” letter against Mamdani deepened fractures rather than creating space for disagreement, and Mamdani’s victory triggered a wave of urgent statements and internal tensions across the Jewish world. And daily, Jewish organizational leaders continue to face high-stakes questions: What do you think? What will you say? How will you handle donors, staff and constituents who see the same events through radically different lenses?

This is a branding crisis as much as a communal one.

I consult with Jewish nonprofits on brand and marketing strategy, and what I’m seeing right now is institutions caught between impossible choices. Stay quiet and seem complicit. Speak up and lose half your stakeholders. Either way, trust erodes.

But here’s what I’ve learned: Truly sustainable brand strength doesn’t come from unanimity. It comes from clarity about what you stand for and courage to hold space for complexity.

The organizations I believe will weather this moment best aren’t those drawing lines in the sand. They’re the ones whose values are so clear, so deeply rooted, that stakeholders trust them even amid disagreement. When your brand is anchored in our core Jewish values — pikuach nefesh, dignity, tzedek, peoplehood — you can create containers strong enough to hold tension without shattering.

As Rabbi Shira Koch Epstein, head of Atra, recently wrote for JTA: “If we truly want to defend the Jewish future, we must resist dividing ourselves into pieces. The real work (the holy work) is learning how to stay in community, even when we don’t agree on the same sentence to sign.”

Stories of curiosity, not certainty

Recently, I attended a (secular) conference talk about lowering the temperature of division in the U.S. right now. The speaker said one of the best ways to do that is to share personal stories of “persuasion” from a stance of curiosity. Not stories that prove you’re right, but stories that show you understand where someone else is coming from. That you have been persuaded to simply consider a different viewpoint, even if you still don’t agree.

Because here’s the thing: position statements polarize; stories humanize.

As a marketing professional, I see this play out constantly. The organizations creating space for multiple narratives — young and old, traditional and progressive, staunchly Zionist and earnestly, painfully questioning — are the ones people return to. They’re the ones doing the best job building “narrative architecture”: the branding and values infrastructure that lets your community hold difference without fragmenting entirely.

This means defining your values before you need them. If you can’t name the three to five principles that guide every decision, your community can’t trust you when things get heated. It means designing real infrastructure for disagreement: trained facilitators, listening sessions, story-gathering projects, structured dialogue programs. Bridge-building isn’t soft work; it requires investment. 

And it means the way you talk about current events matters deeply. If you frame it only as winners versus losers, betrayal versus loyalty, you reinforce the binaries. Frame it through Jewish values (protecting life, shared responsibility, moral complexity), and you create breathing room.

It’s complicated

The murky middle is not about false equivalence or moral relativism. Some positions do cross ethical lines, and boundary-setting remains essential.

But most of what divides us isn’t absolute right versus absolute wrong. It’s competing, critical responsibilities held by people of conscience: Israel’s security vs. the dignity of those caught in conflict; Jewish continuity vs. moral credibility; communal solidarity vs. honest and well-intentioned critique.

The good news? Research shows that the perception of difference among opposing groups is often wider than the actual differences in their members’ opinions. We all have more in common than we think, but if we don’t create bridges to understanding — not to changing minds, but to recognizing our shared humanity — we’ll keep retreating into camps of loyalty and outrage.

The best bridge-builders I know practice what Rabbi Epstein calls the foundational work: 

“Humility reminds us that no one holds the whole truth. Empathy seeks understanding without demanding agreement. Curiosity keeps us open when it would be easier to armor up and fight. These practices don’t erase difference; they make relationship possible within it.”

Living in that murky middle? That’s not cowardice. It’s courage.

What this requires right now

For Jewish communal professionals, board members and funders, this moment demands three things:

• Get clear on brand values. If your organization’s values aren’t explicit, legible and repeated constantly, start there. Brand clarity is what lets you navigate controversy without losing your center.
• Invest in narrative capacity. Hire communicators who understand story. Train facilitators. Fund dialogue programs. This isn’t peripheral—it’s survival infrastructure for a fractured moment.
• Reward the bridge-builders. Shift resources toward institutions and leaders making room for tension. Sure, echo chambers are cheaper and easier. Bridges cost more and matter more.

A call to courage

I think back to my younger self — the one who walked away because the murky middle felt impossible. What I see now is that the murky middle is exactly where Jewish peoplehood renews itself.

The ceasefire may hold or it may unravel. The communal divisions the past few years have exposed and deepened aren’t going anywhere. Our task isn’t to wish them away, but to weave them into a stronger, more resilient fabric. That requires courage: not just to take a stand, but to hold space for those whose stands differ from our own.

If we can do that — if Jewish leaders and institutions can model how to live with tension through clear values, strong narrative and sustained bridge-building — we won’t just survive this moment. We’ll emerge more resilient.

The murky middle isn’t a place of paralysis. It’s where our future lives.

Jessica Leving Siegel is a Chicago-based brand strategist and founder of Sing Creative Group, where she helps Jewish and mission-driven organizations amplify their impact through strategic storytelling and fractional marketing support. A former Jewish communal professional and contributor to USA Today and The Jerusalem Post, she now works with nonprofits nationwide on messaging, PR and brand strategy.