Ilene and Andy Cantos P’25 of Lower Gwynedd, Pennsylvania, made their estate gift to support ������Ƶ Hillel in perpetuity because of the powerful impact the organization had on their daughter, Kylie Cantos ’25, who served as a peer mentor and executive board member with Hillel.

“Hillel provided Kylie with a warm, welcoming community where she felt a sense of belonging and identity,” Ilene Cantos said. “It was more than just a student organization—it became a home away from home for her.”

The couple’s gift is one of the largest made to ������Ƶ Hillel, a dynamic student-run and student-centered organization that engages approximately 800 Jewish students (undergraduate and graduate) on campus, along with non-Jewish students. Hillel hosts a variety of activities and services throughout the academic year, including bagel brunches, weekly Shabbat dinners, Hanukkah parties, movie nights, Israeli cooking classes and get out the vote projects, among other activities. The organization is located in the Sklut Hillel Center, which opened in 2013 and is named for ������Ƶ parents Lori and Eric Sklut P’14 of Charlotte, North Carolina.

The Cantos family was impressed by how deeply Hillel and Jewish Life staff invest in each student’s well-being and personal growth, including Hillel’s “SoupWorks” program that provides chicken soup and check-ins for students when they’re ill.

“There’s always someone looking out for the students, and that level of care really matters,” Ilene said. “We believe that every student deserves to have access to the same kind of supportive, inspiring and growth-focused community. That’s why we’re proud to support ������Ƶ and to be champions of its Jewish Life program.”

Betsy Polk Joseph, senior director of Jewish Life at ������Ƶ, thanked the Cantos family for their generosity and deep engagement with the university and Hillel.

“Throughout Kylie’s four years at ������Ƶ, Ilene and Andy Cantos led the way as volunteers, champions, philanthropists and advocates for ������Ƶ,” she said. “Their legacy gift demonstrates that their generous commitment is lifelong and will inspire donors now and far into the future.”

The couple served on ������Ƶ’s Jewish Life Advisory Council (JLAC), which gave them a front-row seat to the value of Jewish Life and Hillel to students’ academic, social and professional growth.

“Serving on JLAC and staying engaged with ������Ƶ has deepened our appreciation for the university’s commitment to cultivating a vibrant, inclusive environment,” Andy Cantos said. “Jewish life, and especially Hillel, is a key part of that. It doesn’t just enrich student life—it helps transform it.”

Organizations like Hillel make it easy for students to get involved and stay engaged throughout their entire ������Ƶ experience, Ilene said.

“Whether they’re leading a program, participating in a fellowship, working a paid internship or just showing up to a Shabbat dinner, they’re gaining confidence, skills and connections that will last long after graduation,” she said.

The Cantos family was also pleased with Kylie’s overall ������Ƶ experience, which allowed her to grow personally and professionally as a Change Maker Scholar in the Kernodle Center for Civic Life, vice president of philanthropy with Alpha Chi Omega sorority and as an executive board member of the Pre-Health Society. Kylie earned her undergraduate degree in psychology.

“Kylie had access to incredible facilities and was constantly challenged academically while also being encouraged to get involved outside the classroom,” Ilene said. “Watching our daughter thrive at ������Ƶ has been a gift, and we’re proud to continue supporting this incredible community.”

“������Ƶ is grateful to the Cantos family for generously supporting Hillel through their estate, which will help secure the future of this outstanding organization and make a meaningful impact on generations of students,” said John Gardner ’01, senior director of development.

Visit ������Ƶ’s website for more information on how you can make a difference with student learning through estate gifts.

About ������Ƶ Hillel

Hillel is open to all Jewish students from all backgrounds, identities and levels of observance, as well as to non-Jewish students. The organization seeks to build a welcoming, inclusive community that provides empowering Jewish experiences for students and embraces the diversity of Jewish traditions and identities.

The Sklut Hillel Center is a popular gathering place for students, whether they’re looking for a fridge full of food, a place to hang out or study, a way to meet other students, or somewhere to celebrate a Jewish holiday. ������Ƶ Jewish Life also advocates for the Jewish community on campus and prepares students for life beyond college through access to summer jobs and internships.

Olivia Kogan ’24 works at the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism as an , a year-long program designed for recent college graduates who demonstrate a strong commitment to Judaism, social justice and public policy.

The RAC is a nonpartisan organization dedicated to Jewish social justice and represents the Reform Jewish movement, the largest and most diverse Jewish denomination in North America, which encompasses 825 congregations, 2000 rabbis and 1.8 million Reform Jews.

“I support the work of the organization through attending congressional meetings, coalitions, engaging with the White House, the cabinet offices and state and local officials,” Kogan said. “I also lead our legislative advocacy on gun violence prevention, racial justice, criminal justice, death penalty, health care and Native American Indigenous People’s rights.”

In her role, Kogan staffs the Commission on Social Action Task Force on transgender rights, where she is currently authoring and developing a comprehensive toolkit to equip congregations and communities with resources for inclusion, advocacy and policy engagement around transgender rights.

“I think the most challenging part is that policy is continuously changing. Most of the work in a faith-based organization, there’s a limited amount that we can say or do,” said Kogan. “I want to make the most amount of change, but right now that’s really difficult.”

Kogan works with the organization to host social justice seminars and weekends for high school students, which is how she discovered the organization for which she now works.

“I participated in twice when I was in 9th and 10th grade. I had the ability to come to Washington and learn about social justice areas with a culminating experience lobbying my congressional representatives,” said Kogan, who grew up in Huntington Valley, Pa. “I knew when graduating that I wanted to come back to the organization that inspired my social justice advocacy.”

Kogan said she is still very early into her career but has already had an ‘I made it’ moment when she met former Vice President Kamala Harris. Since Kogan manages the organization’s racial justice work, she was invited to attend the annual breakfast for Martin Luther King Jr., where racial justice leaders came together to celebrate the progress that has been made while also acknowledging all the work that has to follow.

“We did not know former Vice President Harris was attending the event and then the host made an announcement introducing her,” Kogan said. “She had the best mindset and created a positive reminder that we all need moral courage in this moment.”

Kogan majored in human service studies with minors in poverty and social justice policy studies and Jewish studies. She was deeply involved in Jewish life at ������Ƶ, including ������Ƶ Hillel as an engagement intern and her work on planning Shabbat services and social justice initiatives.

Kogan was also an ������Ƶ College Fellow and completed a thesis project on the experiences of Jewish summer camp counselors being able to support the socio-emotional needs of non-white campers. Her project explored how formal and informal DEI training and resources influence and shape the counselor experience.
“Last year I was walking through ������Ƶ’s annual SURF Day presentations when I happened upon Olivia Kogan,” said Betsy Polk Joseph, director of Jewish life. “Olivia was surrounded by a crowd of students, administrators and faculty who were hanging on her every word as she shared findings from her research.”

Kogan credits ������Ƶ with providing her the opportunity to grow and pursue leadership positions that allowed her to explore her Jewish identity in new ways. She plans to pursue a Master of Social Work and potentially attend law school to establish a comprehensive social service hub where individuals can access social services and legal needs all in one place.

“There are Jews, Israelis still held hostage since Oct. 7 in Gaza, and I think it’s hard to celebrate liberation when you know they’re members of the Jewish community still not liberated,” said Rabbi Maor Greene, associate chaplain for Jewish Life at ������Ƶ. “It’s not important to dwell on folks not liberated at our seder, but we will have an empty chair to honor the hostages.”

The name “Passover” comes from the miracle in which God “passed over” the houses of the Israelites, sparing them from death during the 10th plague in Egypt.

“I love that the fact that it’s spring, because it’s like everything waking up,” said Boaz Avraham Katz, the Jewish Educator of ������Ƶ. “It’s starting to get green and warming, but I like that we as a people are reminding ourselves of the importance of freedom.”

Jewish Life at ������Ƶ focuses on providing community, and the leadership for the Passover seder (which translates to “order” in English) is no different. Miti Pottebum ’27 is one of the co-religious chairs of Hillel who helps plan the seder with Rabbi Greene.

“My role as rabbi is in partnership with Boaz and religious-ed chairs to put a seder together that’s meaningful for the Jewish community on campus,” said Rabbi Greene.

When it comes to the seder itself, the Jewish Life team at ������Ƶ creates many traditions that allow students to feel that family connection at their home away from home.

“We have the senior table where all the seniors sit for their last Passover, and we celebrate that,” Avraham-Katz said. “We do the four questions, so the young ones, the first years begin, then the sophomores, and so on.”

Another tradition with the Passover Seder is breaking the middle matzah and hiding it away for the participants to find.

“I love the fact that we do an afikomen hunt because people go crazy trying to find the gifts that are hidden,” Avraham-Katz said.

One of the biggest challenges of creating a seder for people with different backgrounds is making the evening accessible for everyone, but the Jewish Life team is prepared.

“We use a Haggadah (a book that follows the seder) that has English, Hebrew, and transliteration, and includes details with explanations and commentaries,” Pottebaum said. “Throughout the seder, we have a slideshow (also with English and Hebrew) that we’ll use as we go through the Haggadah.”

Another challenge that comes with the holiday is the fact that Jews don’t eat leavened bread due to their ancestors not having enough time to cook the dough into bread when leaving Egypt. So, this year, there will be a traditional chicken dish and brisket. Dietary restrictions, including allergies, will also be minded.

Once the seder has concluded, the Jewish Life team hopes people walk away knowing that this university is a community for them.

“We want them to feel that they had a good time,” Avraham-Katz said. “By good experience, I mean that they participated and sang, and they felt a bit like home.”

“I hope that folks experience a sense of joy being Jewish,” Greene shared. “There’s something about singing Mah Nishtanah (The Four Questions) and Dayenu that makes you feel Jewish.”

As students and staff reflect on the holiday, they are reminded that even during the challenging times, unity and hope can be found around the table.

When rockets and bullets started flying, a friend reached out, asking Rami to rescue their child from the unfolding inferno. Over the ensuing hours, Davidian, flanked by his son-in-law, came face-to-face with terrorists and rescued hundreds of young partygoers from certain death, under heavy fire.

In the year since his bravery has been recognized, and Davidian has been awarded numerous prizes and showered with accolades from his home country of Israel and from people around the globe.

Davidian will share his story of bravery, faith and humanity at ������Ƶ’s Whitley Auditorium on Monday, Nov. 18 at 7:30 p.m. He will be accompanied by Millet Ben Haim, a young woman whose life he saved that day.

The event is being hosted by ������Ƶ’s Chabad Jewish Center in partnership with multiple other organizations including ������Ƶ Hillel, and ������Ƶ Jewish Life.

Traditionally, the two big themes of Sukkot are vulnerability and joy. We embrace the vulnerability of our human existence by dwelling in a temporary home – our sukkah. The holiday is also called z’man simchateinu, the season of our joy. These two themes of vulnerability and joy work together – by being in touch with the vulnerability of our human existence, we can experience a deeper sense of joy.

Joy and vulnerability are also key themes in the book of Kohelet (Ecclesiastes), . Kohelet opens with a full-blown existential crisis: “Utter futility!—said Koheleth—Utter futility! All is futile! What real value is there for a person in all the gains they make beneath the sun?” ().

Kohelet eventually accepts (or resigns himself) to the fate of humanity. He describes in , “Only this, I have found, is a real good: that one should eat and drink and get pleasure with all the gains they make under the sun, during the numbered days of life that God has given them; for that is their portion.” Kohelet learns to find joy alongside vulnerability.

The problem for many of us today is that Kohelet’s existential angst (and its resolution) are founded on a false premise. In , Kohelet observes, “One generation goes, another comes, But the earth remains the same forever.” Kohelet believes that humanity cannot fundamentally change existence on earth. However, living with the catastrophic effects of global warming, we now know this to be untrue.

There is a Midrash (ancient interpretation) that addresses humanity’s destructive potential. states:

“Look at God’s work – for who can straighten what He has twisted? (). When the Blessed Holy One created the first human, He took him and led him round all the trees of the Garden of Eden and said to him: ‘Look at My works, how beautiful and praiseworthy they are! And all that I have created, it was for you that I created it. Pay attention that you do not corrupt and destroy My world: if you corrupt it, there is no one to repair it after you.'”

The Midrash transforms a verse from Kohelet into the existential question of our time: if we destroy our planet, who will repair it? Future generations must live with the consequences of our behavior.

My hope for us all celebrating Sukkot this year is not that we dwell in a place of guilt, anxiety, despair, or numbness. have shown that we must work with our feelings, rather than avoiding them or becoming stuck in them. Our feelings about the climate crisis must be welcome guests in our Sukkah.

This year, I hope we experience a deeper sense of our own vulnerability. We are connected to this earth and dependent on it for survival. Like Kohelet, I hope that embracing our vulnerability leads to joy. There is certainly much work to do in repairing the world. I pray that the joy we experience during Sukkot strengthens our resolve to do our part in caring for our planet in the year to come.

Views expressed in this column are the author’s own and not necessarily those of ������Ƶ. The original article appears .

The exhibition, simply called “October Seventh,” opens Monday, Oct. 7, at 11 a.m. in the McBride Gathering Space in the Numen Lumen Pavilion. It includes curated works by 25 artists whose creative activity reflects the atrocious times Israeli society has been facing since the Oct. 7 attacks. Some of these artists are still living and some are deceased – either murdered on Oct. 7 or having died during the ongoing war. Others are residents or former residents of the southern areas of Israel who suffered the loss of their loved ones, their homes or whose families were affected by the horrors of the massacre.

The “October Seventh” exhibition is accompanied by a soundtrack by Israeli musicians who were among the first to give voice to the collective grief felt by so many. They performed impromptu concerts for evacuees, families of the hostages in hospitals and at funerals. The exhibition’s soundtrack is comprised of songs heard since Oct. 7. Many are familiar songs that the war has charged with new meaning.

On Oct. 7 at 5 p.m., join community members in the Sacred Space to remember Oct. 7 together. Led by Dara Kurtz P’22 P’25, a contributing author to the anthology “On Being Jewish Now,” the event will feature different voices on campus on how lives have been changed since that day. A reception will follow. can receive a free copy of “On Being Jewish Now,” set to be released on Nov. 1.

The art exhibit will remain open to the ������Ƶ community in the McBride Gathering Space through Tuesday, Oct. 8, at 8 p.m.

Sixteen years ago, I enrolled in a Christian seminary to become a Presbyterian pastor. I had dreamed for many years about serving God and my community in this role. I never could have imagined that beginning seminary would catalyze my leaving Christianity for good.

Writing today as a Conservative rabbi, I feel deeply satisfied with how my spiritual journey has unfolded. I feel blessed to practice Judaism and belong to the Jewish people, even holding a place of leadership. However, for many years I still carried a sense of personal and professional failure around my experience in seminary. How could I have been so wrong about my own spirituality? I was not even in the right religion. By almost every standard of measure available to me at the time, I had failed.

This week’s Parsha, Eikev, teaches us how to integrate failure and shattered dreams into the stories we tell about ourselves. In Deuteronomy 10:1-2, Moses describes how God instructed him to carve two new tablets like those that Moses had broken.

The name Deuteronomy (from Greek) means “second law” and features Moses retelling the stories of the Israelites wandering in the desert. The original story of the Golden Calf occurs earlier in Exodus. After returning from Mount Sinai to learn that the Israelites had abandoned God in favor of an idol, Moses angrily shatters the tablets inscribed by God. He must carve new ones. In that story, the broken tablets serve as a potent symbol of Israel’s failure to follow God’s ways.

In Deuteronomy 10:2, the symbolic meaning of the broken tablets is more complex. God instructs Moses to put the tablets into the ark: “I will inscribe on the tablets the commandments that were on the first tablets that you smashed, and you shall deposit them in the ark.” Does this mean only the two new tablets, or does it also include the fragments of the old tablets? While the biblical text is unclear, traditions in the Talmud are not (see Berakhot 8b; Bava Batra 14b; Menachot 99a). The Talmud explains that the command is for Moses to place both the new, unbroken tablets and the pieces of the old, shattered tablets together into the ark. God still sees both pairs of tablets – shattered and whole – as holy.

This second account of the fate of the broken tablets shows us how to embrace our failures. Not only should we learn and grow from them, but we also may need to retell and reframe those same experiences. Before the incident of the Golden Calf, the Israelites may have thought that they needed to follow God’s commandments perfectly for God to love them and bless them. Instead, after their failure, the Israelites practice teshuvah (“repentance” or “return”) and learn that God’s fundamental nature is compassion.

Although not always obvious at the time, broken dreams open us to new perspectives and opportunities. Handled with humility, our failures can deepen our relationships with others.

In my own life, I have slowly learned to retell the story of my failing to become a pastor. With the help of dear friends and teachers, I have come to see that period of my life as one marked by integrity and courage. What I had initially experienced as a failure was, in fact, a crucial piece of a profound spiritual success – my becoming Jewish. I was able to integrate this old, shattered dream of mine into the broader story of my life.

What are we to do with the broken pieces of our lives? The Torah teaches us that we are to hold these shattered dreams close to our hearts and cherish them. They are a crucial part of what makes us who we are.

Views expressed in this column are the author’s own and not necessarily those of ������Ƶ.

These questions are also at the forefront of this week’s Torah portion, Parshat Pinchas. In Numbers 27:12-14, God reminds Moses that he will die before reaching the promised land. Sensing the uncertainty of this moment, Moses asks that God appoint his successor. God then singles out Joshua, son of Nun, and Moses lays his hands upon Joshua, embodying the change in leadership in front of the entire community.

Because we know how the Israelites’ story ends, we may not notice how precarious this moment of transition truly is. How many movements fail when their charismatic founder steps down? If this transition in leadership is not handled correctly, the nascent Israelite Torah community may not survive.

God describes Joshua as a person possessing unique spiritual characteristics that merit his succeeding Moses. However, God also describes how Moses needs to publicly transfer power and authority to Joshua. Joshua will need the support of Moses and the community to become Israel’s new leader, even as he represents a very different kind of leadership.

As is typical in biblical narratives, the text gives few clues about how the characters may have felt about this situation. How did the Israelites feel about receiving a young new leader? Was Moses disappointed or pleased, reluctant or enthusiastic? Joshua was Moses’ most important student, but perhaps Moses would have preferred one of his sons to inherit his role (as Rashi suggests).

When texts contain uncertainties, midrash often fills in the gaps. The Talmud (Bava Batra 75a) describes how God’s commanding Moses to place some of his splendor onto Joshua implies that Moses was not meant to put all of his splendor onto Joshua. According to the Talmud, “The elders of that generation said that the face of Moses was like the face of the sun and the face of Joshua was like the face of the moon.” The elders felt embarrassed that they did not merit another leader of Moses’ stature. One can only wonder how Joshua must have felt in being chosen to follow in the footsteps of God’s original mouthpiece.

Elsewhere in the Talmud (Sanhedrin 105b), we gain greater insight into how Moses may have been feeling. Rav Yosei bar Choni says that a person can be jealous of everyone except their child or student. This is because the success of children and students can be seen as a reflection of the success of a parent or teacher. One of the proofs brought is this week’s Parsha. God commands Moses to lay his hand (singular) upon Joshua, but Moses lays both of his hands (plural) upon him. Perhaps Moses did, in fact, feel a sense of disappointment, jealousy, or loss about this transition. After all, God has asked him to hand over his life’s work to a younger student before it has been completed. Yet when the time comes to act, Moses goes above and beyond God’s instructions, committing both hands to Joshua’s success. Moses realizes that Joshua’s leadership will also define his own legacy.

Like Moses, much of my work as a campus rabbi involves helping my students develop into leaders who take ownership of their own identities, experiences, and communities. I can attest that the work of leadership development is as hands-on as ever. I also experience the paradox that the ultimate indicator that I have done my job well is that my students no longer need me. Being a rabbi and teacher is like parenting: I am hoping and planning for my own obsolescence.

At first glance, transitions in leadership can seem sad. There is a loss in giving up a place of power. However, these transitions also generate intense joy. We are not giving up leadership so much as giving to the next generation. I know that I experience deep and lasting satisfaction whenever I see my students succeed.

We learn from Moses and Joshua that leadership is not just about learning to exercise power effectively. Leadership is also about learning to share power, and knowing how and when to give it up and give it to others.

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Views expressed in this column are the author’s own and not necessarily those of ������Ƶ.

On Wednesday, Feb. 28, members of the university community came together in the McBride Gathering Space in the Numen Lumen Pavilion for this year’s wInterfaith event, a midday panel discussion that offered insights from a broad range of perspectives and fostered conversation.

The event began with an introduction of the panelists by the Rev. Kirstin Boswell, university chaplain and dean of multifaith engagement. The panel Included:

• Sheila Otieno, assistant professor of religious studies and Distinguished Emerging Scholar in Religious Studies, who teaches religion and religious ethics, focusing on African and African American religious traditions.
• The Rev. Donna Vanhook ’07, Alamance Soil & Water Conservation District Supervisor and associate pastor at Union Chapel UCC. Vanhook is the first Black woman to serve as Soil and Water Conservation District Supervisor.
• Jasper Serenity Myers ’24, a scholar of ancient Mediterranean forms of worship and Japanese Buddhist traditions.

• Kayla Swenson ’25 holds a position on Hillel Executive Board as the CO Shabbat chair and mentors in the ������Ƶ SMART program.
• Fatmata Bah ’25 who is vice president of the ������Ƶ Muslim Society and is very passionate about fostering interfaith dialogue.

The discussion focused on how a person’s religious faith and their background in that faith can be empowering, with each panelist offering perspectives from their own faiths. Much of the discussion centered around the sense of identity and how faith and background contribute to that identity.

To start the discussion, each of the panelists was asked if it was OK to be referred to as a Black woman as one of the identities that they hold in common. “You step into a room and you’re stepping in this body and in all of those ways and forms, that manifests itself,” Boswell said.

Vanhook noted that the dialogue within her church promotes the “strong Black woman” myth, which can place a burden upon many women. That myth perpetuates the idea that because they are Black women, they should automatically be strong enough to handle anything. “It’s mythical and paradoxical, which means that in churches, in my faith tradition, you are taught that you have to be strong,” Vanhook said. “Many times we find ourselves in a position where we’re doing too much and not really doing enough for ourselves.”

Otieno explained that one person can have a wide variety of identities that can be molded by a person’s background and upbringing along with their various roles. “I am a teacher, I am a scholar, I am a researcher, but I’m also an Auntie, I am also a sister and I am also a daughter,” Otieno said.

Vanhook said that being a Black woman is just one identity among many for her. “At some point, I have to separate myself,” Vanhook said. “Understanding that I am somebody empowers me again to continue my journey into doing something God has called me to do.”

Identities can be a big part of someone’s life, and it can be tricky to navigate when you have multiple identities that can either clash with one another or work together, Bah said. “There are misconceptions about all my identities or at least when I enter a room,” Bah said. “You may not know that I’m Muslim when you meet me, but you will see that I’m Black.”

Identities can also shape a way in how someone looks at a group and not a person, Swenson noted. “Not one person speaks for everybody,” said Swenson.

Another part of learning about identities is being open to listening and taking in information, she said. “Just because you have one conversation with somebody doesn’t mean that you can have a conversation with someone else that holds the same identity and it’s going to look the same,” Swenson said.

Having multiple identities can shape a person and how they look at the world or how they navigate themselves, Bah said. “If you’re cherry picking that kind of creates another issue,” Bah said. “I think education in general is important to address those misconceptions, interacting with people from different states and people from different religions.”

Myers shared that she was raised Roman Catholic, and that her identity has been formed by more than just what she heard in church. What she has learned through her own journey has contributed to how she sees herself. “I had to reshape my own opinion, my own self-conception, my own identity and that was an empowering process in and of itself, because I had a new understanding of myself,” Myers said.

Boswell pulled together many of the observations that the panelists offered by noting that identities can bring with them a weight of expectation. “What was reinforced across the board when looking at Black women, of varying faith identities and other types of identities, we’re all carrying this load, this pressure to be perfect, to be the example,” Boswell said.

Lobree, 98, recounted the challenges she faced as she was displaced from her home in Germany and separated from her family to those gathered in Turner Theater in the School of Communications to hear her story. Director of Jewish Life Betsy Polk and the Jewish Life Team collaborated with Associate Professor of Journalism Rich Landesberg and the School of Communications to bring Lobree, who now lives in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, to ������Ƶ.

Lobree spoke to a full house of more than 200 students, community members, faculty and staff, including University Chaplain Kirstin Boswell along with members of ������Ƶ’s senior leadership. Over 150 additional viewers watched a livestream of the event, which remains available for viewing.

Lobree recounted her journey out of Germany through Kindertransport, which was an organized effort to rescue children in Nazi-controlled territories and transport them to safer locations. Lobree, like many children in the program, was separated from her parents, her friends and even her older brother, who was transported to the Middle East.

Lobree was taken in by a sponsor family in London, where she said members of the family constantly reminded her of her refugee status in their household. She was expected to cook, clean and just be grateful for the fact she was still alive.

Once full-scale war broke out in Europe, her sponsor family evacuated London for safety, leaving her and the maid to fend for themselves in the house. She moved to a house hostel 45 miles outside of London and spent the next two years with other refugee girls. Eventually, she met, Julie, who would become a lifelong friend and who would help her find a new home in London.

After originally relocating to live with Julie’s aunt and uncle, the pair found their own apartment and then decided to make the great move to the United States in April 1944. Lobree was still a teenager at this point, and it took many years to pass before she understood the impact of what happened to her throughout this whole experience.

“I lost the loving attention of a family. I was deprived of a good education and growing up under normal circumstances. I was deprived of learning how to be an adult in a safe environment,” Lobree explained. “And I only understood the trauma and the tragedy of my entire experience as an adult.”

Eventually, Lobree was invited to visit Frankfurt, Germany, in 1996. She realized the difference with the new generation and decided to view the situation from a different perspective. “Holding onto anger is a waste of energy. That is not productive. It is destructive. Anger, and anything really, when it’s over, just let it go. I’m glad I did.”

Her message again and again was to “be aware, be vigilant, be proud of who you are, be positive, be hopeful.”

She explained that the greatest difference in moving to America was the feeling of freedom to walk the streets without a gas mask or go out without a government-mandated curfew. To her, it was almost overwhelming. “I’ve always loved strawberries. Throughout the years of the war, I didn’t see a single strawberry. When I came to New York with all these vegetable stands everywhere, all I ate for a whole two weeks was strawberries! That in itself just shows the invaluable freedom.”

Lobree has previously shared her story with the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, which is .

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Christy Brook contributed to this article.