In Jewish organizations today — day schools, synagogues, federations, nonprofits — the default response to Israel-related tensions, antisemitism flare-ups and political polarization is often the same: “Let’s bring in ‘difficult conversations’ training.” 

It’s not a bad idea. These programs can teach valuable skills — active listening, “I” statements,  suspending judgment. Many teams feel better after the workshop. For a short while. But too often, the underlying tensions don’t disappear — they simply go underground.Meetings feel polite on the surface, while resentment, distrust, and emotional exhaustion build  beneath. Staff begin avoiding certain colleagues. Stakeholders send concerned emails. The mission slowly fades.  

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The missing piece

Neutralizing political and ideological tensions in the workplace takes more than better dialogue skills. It requires clarity of purpose — relentlessly returning to the organization’s core mission — coupled with clear boundaries — and specifically the courage to set and enforce them with kindness. 

As a former Jewish history teacher in Israel, I was once at a Passover toast with all 50 members  of the school’s faculty. I was only a few months on the job, and one of the veteran teachers,  who was leading the small event, gave a short speech. He said warm, relatable things about our shared work as educators — the kind of words anyone could nod along to. But then he chose to  end with this: 

“This is Passover, the holiday of freedom. May we too, this year, have freedom for our  democracy that’s been taken from us.” 

Most people clapped and cheered. A few held their lips in discontent. The speaker then asked:  “Does anyone have anything else to say before the toast?” 

Nobody seemed to want to say anything, and the invitation was very short-lived, with the speaker immediately moving on to begin the toast. 

I didn’t want to divert the topic from Passover to politics, but I felt very uncomfortable within,  and thus knew I had no choice. I understood very well that this speech had been hijacked for a political agenda — so how is it that I am the one who should be uncomfortable? I’ve seen how this plays out: If I feel uncomfortable and don’t speak, I will become resentful and feel victimized and suppressed — and with me, of course, there will be others.

“This was a nice speech,” I said, “but it’s a shame that you chose to end by bringing politics into  it.” 

Immediate attacks followed, from multiple faculty members at once, talking over each other.  Some claimed he was right and that it was fine he said it. But I remained steadfast and began speaking steadily through the noise, which quickly turned into silence. 

“We are all teachers here. We have an important mission of educating the next generation, and many shared challenges in that regard. It is not always easy being a teacher, and I believe we  should be focusing on that in our gathering — not on tense political remarks.” 

As I spoke in a respectful, grounded, and vulnerable way, people began to show less opposition.  Opposing remarks dwindled. The main speaker genuinely asked: “Why can’t I speak about this here? Teachers speak about this in the teachers’ lounge.” 

I simply replied: “This is not the teachers’ lounge. You are making a speech addressed to  everyone at a Passover toast. You know that not everyone here agrees with that remark. In your  own time, you can do whatever you want.” 

What followed was powerful: two additional staff members spoke up in pain, saying they felt  their ideology was being suppressed by remarks like this, and that “some things can’t be said” in  this school. 

The principal did well to swiftly assert that this was an important conversation, that she  welcomed it, and that we should have a designated meeting to discuss it properly. 

Many others approached me after the toast. Some appreciated that I gave voice to what they were thinking. Others — even though they agreed with the political statement — said they agreed it wasn’t the right place for it. The speaker itself – while there was initial awkwardness,  the relationship turned to better then before after a few days.  

It was a great step in healing for the school that projected well into the future. But what would have happened had I not spoken? 

While this is one example, I have been exercising this for years whenever I find myself in similar  situations, and with determination and consistency, I’ve seen this work in the tensest of places. 

The role of the leader (or any steadfast team member) 

That moment worked not because I “won” an argument, but because I exercised firmness with kindness — calling out the breach of purpose, redirecting to the shared mission and offering a proper side channel for deeper discussion later. Every team needs someone willing to do this consistently. It doesn’t have to be the formal leader, although it is preferable; even one steadfast team member who repeatedly and respectfully calls out when tense, emotional or ideological points are derailing the moment can shift the entire culture. 

It isn’t easy. Charged remarks can trigger outbursts, manipulation, or defensiveness. When  someone drops a vague critique in the middle of an unrelated meeting — claiming the “vibe”  has become “one-sided” or that people with a certain stance now feel “invisible” — it could act  as a conversational hijack. Without a swift interception, this remark hangs in the air as an  uncontested fact, allowing unresolved tension to fester. To regain the room, a leader must pivot  with clarity: “I hear that you’re sensing a shift in the atmosphere. To give that the respect it  deserves, let’s move this to a dedicated forum rather than a five-minute tangent today,” or,  “That is a significant claim; please bring concrete examples to our next 1-on-1 so we can  address them directly.” 

Creating a Culture of Accountability 

This process does more than just clear the schedule; it creates a culture of accountability. When  a team knows that every claim will be followed through thoroughly and factually, and that non concrete claims will be filtered out, they become more disciplined in their communication.  Often, people don’t bring such claims out of bad intent; they simply feel strongly, and those  emotions can be difficult to contain when the mission is heavy. By holding these boundaries  with firmness and kindness, you aren’t silencing them — you are allowing them to return to the  work they are truly here to serve. When the leader acts as the anchor, the entire team can  finally breathe: The speaker gets a proper channel to be heard later without feeling attacked in the  moment, and the rest of the team feels protected, respected, and focused. 

The Jewish organizations that will thrive in this era are not those that ban conversation or take  the loudest political side. They are the ones that protect their spiritual and educational core — with courage, clarity, and kindness — while still allowing honest human beings to remain in  relationship. 

The real question is not whether we can heal these divides, but whether we will choose to act before the storm erodes what we’ve built. That choice starts in the next meeting, the next toast or the next moment someone tries to hijack a mission. One voice, rooted in purpose, is enough to change the room — and the culture.

Or Caduri is a Jewish educator and consultant specializing in program development, healthy workplace culture and navigating polarization and antisemitism in Jewish settings.