The Listening Project

Editor’s Note: An abbreviated version of this article appeared in eJewishPhilanthropy on April 7, 2026.

Introduction

Since the horrific events in Israel of October 7, 2023 and the devastating war and humanitarian crisis in Gaza, Jewish families and communities around the world have been torn apart by polarizing views. The Jewish Community of Greater Stowe (JCOGS), nestled in the natural beauty of rural, mountainous Vermont, has members with long-held views representing a remarkably broad spectrum of belief on Israel and Palestine. Since October 7, as the only synagogue in town, with emotions running as high as ever, our leadership has been challenged to find a way to respond with sensitivity and prudence.

The initiative that helped to stabilize our fragile synagogue ecosystem was the Listening Project, a series of one-to-one and group courageous conversations to honour the sacred act of listening to one another across our differences. This series explores the need behind the Listening Project, the tangible steps we used to implement it , and its impact, outcomes, and next steps within our community.

The Need to Hear Each Other

The Hamas attack on Israel on October 7, 2023 was a shock to Jewish communities around the world. Jews were grieving, angry, and scared. As the hostages remained in captivity, and as the war in Gaza unfolded with mounting devastation, many communities struggled to make sense of the war. In our rural Jewish community, the Jewish Community of Greater Stowe (JCOGS, affectionately called “Jay Cogs”), we were fielding passionate, but often conflicting, needs from our diverse membership.

Rural Jewish life is just different. Urban-cantered Jews often don’t fully get it (I used to be one of them!). As the only synagogue within a 25-mile radius, with members traveling as much as one hour to gather, pray, and learn, we are the one-stop spot for Jewish and interfaith families, locals, second homeowners, and tourists alike. Our geographical diversity goes along with wide differences in socio-economics, cultural backgrounds, religious observance, and life experience.

On Israel and Palestine, our members’ experiences vary widely. Some have little personal connection; they have never traveled to the Middle East and do not feel a strong tie to the State or land of Israel. Other members include those who feel deeply connected to Israel, have friends or family in the country, have visited multiple times or even lived there. Our community also includes Israeli-American members.

And, yes, our diversity shines through in our members’ politics too. Our community includes people who use very different language to describe their politics and their relationship to Israel—terms like Zionist, progressive, anti-Zionist, conservative, Democrat, Republican, independent—alongside other members who reject labels even as they hold strong, sometimes conflicting convictions.

What we are holding at JCOGS is not unique—but it is increasingly rare. Some American Jews are all in for unquestioning support for the State of Israel and its policies. Others are adamantly opposed to even the State’s existence. The majority sit somewhere on a spectrum between, from solidarity with Israel’s response to October 7 to moral anguish over the devastation in Gaza. Jewish life is fracturing into a growing number of ideological silos.

Vermont is well known as a progressive stronghold (think Bernie Sanders and Ben and Jerry). In a Jewish community with a growing commitment to curb the climate crisis, to fight racism, antisemitism, and bigotry, and to stand up clearly for immigrant and LGBTQ+ rights, the moral lenses many of us bring to the world are shaped by these values. But JCOGS reflects a more diverse range of views on Israel and Palestine. As we sought to shape a meaningful communal response to the post-October 7th world, we knew that we needed to honour that wide range of viewpoints—especially because we risked the fracturing of a community that is the only synagogue in our region. Our congregants needed to have a place of belonging that could feel safe.

But we hoped for more than just shalom bayit, peace in our communal home. We also wanted to live out our own, shared, communal values. A new JCOGS mission and values statement was codified in June 2023, just months before October 7. It included the value of “diversity as vitality”.

Eilu v’Eilu: Diversity as Vitality

As a pluralistic, egalitarian community welcoming wide-ranging beliefs, identities, and practices, we value human diversity as the source of our collective vitality. We actively listen to and value each other’s perspectives in an environment of mutual respect. We seek to understand differing and even challenging points of view, while celebrating the dignity and unique gifts of each individual.

Our members pray side-by-side, visit each other when sick, comfort one another when grieving, eat at the same onegtable together—in a truly heimish, welcoming community. This is no small feat. But the devastating attack of October 7, 2023 and the war in Gaza put this core value to the test. Could our community remain one, vibrant community with so many competing needs expressed by our members? In a community like ours, and in a post–October 7 Jewish world, could we avoid splintering into ideological camps? Fracture was not a hypothetical risk; it was a real and present danger. We knew what was at stake if we failed. Adults—including parents of young children—quietly walking away from Jewish life; children growing up without B-Mitzvah ceremonies or meaningful Jewish bonds; unaffiliated Jews in our area, already alienated by early childhood Jewish experiences, steering clear of our doors; and a shrinking sense of shared responsibility for sustaining community itself.

All of this unfolded amid rising antisemitism locally and globally—at a time when the Jewish people could least afford to fracture. There are enormous pressures on Jewish communities from the outside world—from political pressure to real violence. The question was not only how we would survive internally, but how we would stay in coalition, in partnership, even in friendship—with one another and with our neighbours. How would we remain a beloved community? These realities demanded that we work on our own house, to see one another in our differences. We resolved that we would not allow the outside world to tear us further apart. We also resolved to affirm the inherent dignity and worth of our fellow co-religionists.

For our JCOGS leadership, it was like leading a daily, community version of Thanksgiving dinner. Would politics sour an otherwise lovely meal? Should we (can we) just avoid the topic—just this one time? And that’s when we learned the special sauce of our unique community: everyone—leadership included—needs to be at least a little bit uncomfortable.

For months after October 7th, we offered special prayers during services, made pastoral calls, created a hostage display and letter writing campaign to the hostage families, and offered adult education classes on the issues of the day. We took a stand in this moment. We stood squarely with our family, friends, and people in Israel as they endured the single greatest rupture of their (our) Jewish lives. And we also showed unfailing compassion for those suffering in Gaza. All of this through prayer, learning, humanitarian fundraising, and more. For us, compassion knows no sides.

But our membership kept saying that it was not enough. We heard a call to focus on community—who was hurting; who felt unheard; who was at risk of disconnecting. And from the beginning, we knew this could not be a top-down solution. The burden of holding community could not rest on leadership alone. This would require shared responsibility, mutual courage, and collective care.

Among the numerous ways we responded, our leadership sought to provide a safe and brave space for our members to express themselves and to listen to one another. Around this time, we learned about the work of Andy Robinson, a seasoned Vermont Jewish community leader, whose approach to careful, courageous listening gave language to the work we were already being called to shape. His framing helped us recognize that listening itself could be a communal practice, not just a personal virtue. We came to call this work the Listening Project.

Especially in times of struggle, at the heart of the human experience is a need to be listened to and heard. This is where we knew we could make the most difference. While some of our members were (and some still are) too tender to engage across differences, a majority, including members with strongly held views, expressed a need, not only to be heard, but also to hear and learn from others. Not to argue. Not to try to convince. But to actually meet one another where they were at.

As one of our Listening Project participants said: “It’s important to start having a conversation and to learn how to listen. If we’re going to be a community, we can’t be afraid to talk to each other.” Here we were in the most difficult and fragile moment of Jewish communal life in recent decades, yet our members were asking to engage with one another rather than retreat.

In Part 2 of this series, I will share how we built and implemented a simple but effective synagogue program that left many of our members feeling heard and appreciated. In Part 3, we will share the Listening Project’s impact and outcomes.

There is a deep vulnerability in creating a listening community. Words too often lead to division. How can we, instead, seek to change hearts by first changing how we listen with curiosity—so that we may win friendship and build toward a more equitable, fair, and just community, society, and Middle East?

After October 7th, we knew from our small corner of Vermont, that we would not bring about the peace, security, and justice that all of us seek in Israel/Palestine. But we could listen to each other, and perhaps be a very small beacon of light in an otherwise dark world. Our primary goal with the Listening Project was to have the words we shared continue to draw us closer together—always remembering that a strong, interwoven community is in our hands. 

Tangible Steps to Building

After the initial shock of October 7th and as the war in Gaza intensified, our Jewish Community of Greater Stowe (JCOGS) was desperately looking for ways to meet the moment. We were hearing from dozens and dozens of our members that they were looking for more—and many were looking for a space to reflect and talk together and feel safe to do so. Two members of our JCOGS board of trustees—Debby and Lynne—attended a presentation and discussion at a local synagogue in Montpelier, Vermont, a 30-minute drive from Stowe. Debby and Lynne are good friends, but they also have significantly different perspectives on Israel/Palestine, yet both really appreciated the program.

The presentation was made by Andy Robinson, the president of the Montpelier synagogue and a masterful not-for-profit consultant. Andy was presenting his findings after the winter of 2023-24, when he took it upon himself to interview more than 60 Jews from across Vermont and the U.S.—community members, friends, and friends of friends. He asked them to share their feelings about the current crisis, which were so raw at the time. He gently asked them questions about their connections to Judaism, their experiences of antisemitism, their thoughts on Zionism and Israel/Palestine, and possible paths to peace and reconciliation.

We decided to bring Andy into our JCOGS community to do two similar presentations about his findings and to facilitate a few listening exercises. In small groups, people had a chance to think about the questions that they wanted to ask each other on Israel/Palestine. We then broke into a series of one-to-one conversations, each person asking the other a question they were curious about. Person #2 had a few minutes to respond, uninterrupted. Then, person #1 had a minute to reflect back what they heard, after which, person #2 could indicate what they got right and what they might have missed. Then they switched roles. After each round of one-to-ones, there was a chance for the whole group to reflect on what they heard.

We were, understandably, nervous about engaging with such a sensitive topic at the height of the war. But after soliciting feedback from that first session, it was clear that the community wanted—and could handle—more. In our subsequent sessions, we kept the focus on the power of listening to one another with curiosity and non-judgment (or at least trying to keep our judgements to ourselves!). We also decided to do our own Listening Project at JCOGS.

We invited Andy Robinson to provide a 2-hour training on how to interview and listen deeply to others. Those who attended took on the job of setting guidelines for the coming months of interviews. They created the following guidelines for the interviewer (person 1):

• Respond with empathy
• Be present, be present, be present!
• Don’t make assumptions. We often project our own opinions on others.
• Use your best poker face. Be non-reactive.
• Rephrase back to the interviewee: “Just so I’m clear, what I heard you just say is…”
• We will do this imperfectly. Don’t beat yourself up.

Recognizing the power of the technique and how well our participating members were responding to the well-designed interview exercise, we created a series of prompt questions to allow our members to build deeper relationships with one another:    

• Tell me about your relationship to Judaism.
• What has been your experience with antisemitism?
• What is your relationship with Israel?
• Long-term, what’s the best solution for the Middle East?
• How do you feel about JCOGS’s response/engagement/support since October 7th?
• What future Israel/Palestine related programming would you like to see at JCOGS?

The small group of ten members who created these questions were then given the liberty to follow their own interests and that of the interviewee, with other questions relating to anti-Zionism and antisemitism, how people might feel safest in fraught conversations, and what’s at stake in this conversation for them.

We invited the entire congregation to sign up for a one-to-one interview. Over the course of the next several months, our interview team engaged close to 50 of our members—over 20% of our membership. Two lay leaders, Susan and Amy, coordinated the initiative and served as a support for the members of the interview team.

From the outset of this project, we knew that we wanted full transparency with the community. Throughout, there were regular communications with the congregation that detailed what to expect. Meanwhile, interviewers were given a Google Form to help compile the highlights from their one-to-ones. We did not know how we would share what we learned with the community, but we understood that a feedback loop was essential. After some thought, we compiled a detailed report for the community on the JCOGS Listening Project (read it here).

While the one-to-ones offered a low-risk option to engage the community, one of the clear mandates that came out of those interviews was the strong interest among our members for facilitated, structured group discussions and open exchange. With dozens of our members now trained in listening skills, we felt that the time was ripe.

As the rabbi, I facilitated several group Listening Project gatherings, what we called Courageous Conversations, first starting with those who were interviewed, and then opening it up to the whole community. People were hungry for this. At a recent Courageous Conversation session that I facilitated, 25 people registered but over 60 people showed up to discuss Israel/Palestine, many sharing from a very vulnerable place. These conversations were not about winning arguments, but about daring to speak honestly—and, even more, daring to listen.

We used a fishbowl format, a simple educational tool with concentric circles. In the middle circle with six chairs, folks were invited to dialogue, while those in outer circles listened, with an empty seat always left in the middle. We began with Listening Project interviewers sharing what they had learned from their conversations, and others were then invited to enter the circle to ask thoughtful, open-ended questions. As one person stepped into the middle circle, another stepped out, so the empty seat remained. Questions prompted reflection rather than yes/no answers, and participants were encouraged to respond and add their own thoughts.

Andy Robinson often quotes Erica Heilman of the Rumble Strip podcast: “You can be curious. You can be judgmental. But you can’t be both at the same time.” In cultivating active listening in our congregation, we sought to move individuals and our community towards curiosity and understanding of one another. Watching these conversations in real time, I was honestly humbled at how constructive and meaningful they were. Many participants, myself included, came in with more than a little bit of anxiety about how these conversations would develop. Yet everyone left with significant take-aways and a deeper sense of belonging to each other.

In the upcoming, final part of this article, I will discuss the impact and outcomes on our community of the one-to-one and group circles of the Listening Project and how other communities might adopt similar approaches.

Impact and Outcomes

The internet has been called “a filter bubble” that allows every individual to choose the sources of their information. As a result, we live in a society of ideological echo chambers.

While our community’s Listening Project tried to break down silos, one synagogue program was never going to be able to stem this tide of insularity. The Listening Project did not prevent all of our members from feeling alienated. After months of communication about the Listening Project, broadcasting the report widely, offering a series of Courageous Conversations, as well as multiple educational programs on Israel/Palestine from various perspectives, some folks on the “left” still felt that they were underrepresented. But, guess what? So did folks on the “right.”

This is not unique to this issue. As an unaffiliated synagogue, some people say to me that there’s too much Hebrew in our prayers, and some say to me that there’s too much English—and that’s when I know that I struck the right balance. Leadership in a diverse community rarely means universal satisfaction; it means staying in relationship across difference.

Directly after October 7th and in the two years of intense war in Gaza, our members were emotionally triggered, feeling righteous anger, and grieving in the depths of their own despair. They were expressing frustration that we were not doing enough as a congregation. Some felt that we were not standing with Israel strongly enough. Some thought that we were too complacent in the face of the destruction in Gaza. It has become increasingly apparent that, at least for a congregation like ours, particularly in a diverse rural area, we will never be able to do enough to satisfy everyone’s needs. Given recent events in America and in Jewish life here and in Israel, our congregations are put in an impossibly difficult position. But I am increasingly convinced that, in the face of these pressures, congregational equilibrium is not the goal.

Our JCOGS mission statement seeks to increase the pathways of Shabbat, holidays, lifelong learning, engaging programs, tikkun olam, and a rich sense of belonging. To achieve that goal, our one regional shul tries to avoid alienating anyone who comes through our doors. We strive not to push people away. We want the vast majority of our members to resonate with the language we use to communicate and with the programming that we offer. At the same time, it is impossible to avoid the real “heat” of this moment in Israel/Palestine and the ripple effect in North America. If our goal is to create a Jewish home for the wide cross-section of Jews who come to us, everyone will need to make the effort to stretch, grow, learn, and to be, at least, a little bit vulnerable. But for folks to feel vulnerable—to feel that they can be true to themselves in our congregation—they also need to feel safe. As our Listening Project trainer Andy Robinson kept saying to us: we want to create a safe and brave space, all at once.

Our experience with the Listening Project was that something amazing—even miraculous—happened. At the height of the war, with emotions on overdrive, people who participated in the one-to-one interviews expressed genuine gratitude for the opportunity to articulate their thoughts about a deeply personal and complex topic. While much of the Jewish world was yelling at each other, those interviewed experienced a rare and valued safe space to process their emotions openly and to be received without fear of judgment. The conversations allowed participants to explore their beliefs, reflect on their relationship with Israel and Judaism, and feel part of a broader dialogue on the war in Gaza. It allowed participants to express why they believe what they believe. Knowing that the listener’s role was to understand rather than to argue, provided a sense of comfort to those interviewed. Interviewees felt genuinely appreciated, especially as we started to move from listening to action. Members who previously felt powerless or pushed aside, now said: “I feel heard.”

As anyone who has had a cup of coffee with a friend can attest, there’s nothing like sitting across from someone and having a meaningful conversation. The Listening Project provided a platform for diverse perspectives, but it also became a meaningful exercise in community building for both interviewees and interviewers. As one of our board members said: “When people are heard, that’s when community is built.” For some, the process even sparked hope that these conversations could lay the groundwork for greater understanding and connection within the community.

The impact on the interviewers was also profound. One participant said: “To be successful at anything, you have to be a world-class listener.” Yet, most of us in conversation are half listening to the other person while preparing what we are planning to say next. The interviewers learned the art of “biting my tongue not to express my opinions,” as one interviewer put it. Listening without the need to offer opinions allowed them the opportunity to appreciate the range of perspectives and experiences within the community. Many interviewers described the process as a mitzvah—a sacred act of holding space for others in their time of need—and found themselves moved and changed by what they heard. For the interviewers, the project fostered a deep sense of connection with fellow congregants, transforming acquaintances into meaningful relationships. One interviewer said: “I thought I knew these individuals. And oh, was I surprised.” Another said: “I loved learning about people in the congregation. It creates a whole other level of connection.” This is all to say that those who conducted the interviews were profoundly shaped by the experience.

By offering a transparent process with our community, we were also able to diffuse the burden felt by so many rabbis who are both trying to speak the truth as they see it, while keeping their communities from cracking under the weight of controversial issues. Our boards of trustees and our communities need to share with clergy the responsibility of dealing with the grief, shock, anger, and hope that swirls through almost every Jewish gathering these days.

While most everyone in our community knew about the Listening Project, especially when we circulated our report back (read it here)—not everyone has yet taken part directly. That, too, is part of an evolving congregation. We are continually welcoming new members and new community leaders, even as the political tectonic plates keep shifting beneath us. While our Listening Project unfolded, the world did not stand still. We experienced a former president returning to the White House, the return of the Israeli hostages being held in Gaza, a tenuous and partial ceasefire between Israel and Hamas, the Bondi Beach massacre in Australia, an arson attack on a synagogue in Jackson, Mississippi arson and much, much more. If anything, congregational life is only becoming more complex. Yet because of the Listening Project, we are better equipped to face that complexity together, with tools that we can adapt to continue to process the ever-evolving social and political landscape.

Quite apart from our Listening Project, there is much that takes place in our congregation that strengthens ties between members—showing up for those who are ill or bereaved; noshing at the oneg together; or taking in a slapstick movie at the Stowe Jewish Film Festival. Yet the Listening Project strengthened our community in other, important ways. It helped us learn to sit with discomfort, and members are more committed than ever to facing difficult topics openly and sustaining the brave space that we share.

Now, when a community member has a new programmatic idea related to Israel/Palestine or other controversial topics, we begin by listening to the need. Not every proposal can be acted upon, but we are ready and willing to engage with difficult issues because we have proven to ourselves that it can be done with sensitivity to a wide range of opinions. Also, to our delight, we are finding that other local synagogues are now hosting Courageous Conversations as well.  Further, as the Jewish Communities of Vermont organization brings together congregations from across the state for a semi-regular Vermont-wide Summit, JCOGS will help host a cross-state Courageous Conversation on Israel/Palestine. We expect that the Summit will be attended, not only by members of other Vermont-based congregations, but also by unaffiliated Jews.

We are proud of what we have built through our Listening Project. In a time of deep division—across American society and within the Jewish community—we have put a stake in the ground: through curiosity and a willingness to open our hearts, we are striving to cultivate a community where belonging transcends political affiliation.

We hope that our experience might inspire other Jewish institutions to undertake similar work. We are glad to share what we have learned, while trusting that each congregation will develop its own path toward the same goal—not merely tolerating difference, but learning to see diversity as a source of vitality. It all begins, one conversation at a time.

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Rabbi David Fainsilber has been the spiritual leader of the Jewish Community of Greater Stowe (VT) since 2013. A native of Montreal, he was ordained at the pluralistic Hebrew College in Boston.