When our family endowed an annual lecture series at Crossroads School for Arts and Sciences in 2013, we did so with hope and conviction. The Institute for Equity and Justice had just been established — an innovative center that was rare, if not unparalleled, at the high school level. We believed in its potential to help educate the school community toward a more just society, and we saw its mission as deeply aligned with our Jewish values: a commitment to human dignity, democratic ideals and the responsibility to stand with vulnerable communities.
From the beginning, we grounded the series in a way that at least one lecture each year focused on the Holocaust, the enduring lessons of genocide prevention and the vigilance required to confront antisemitism, hatred and dehumanization. In its early years, the program reflected that promise: bold voices, diverse perspectives and meaningful opportunities for students and the broader community to engage with urgent moral questions.
Over time, however, I began to feel a growing dissonance between the Institute’s programming and our family values. I noticed guest speakers who were powerful advocates for their own communities, but did so by diminishing Israeli, Zionist and, at times, Jewish identities. Planning the lecture series became increasingly difficult. I found myself reviewing speakers’ past writings and public statements, trying to ensure that the pursuit of justice for one community did not come at the expense of another. That was the north star I had in my mind and encouraged them to adopt.
After the Oct. 7, 2023 atrocities, we reached a breaking point. The task of assuring that programming remained aligned with the founding goals of the Institute became untenable. Eventually, I realized that this approach was no longer sustainable. After much reflection, I made the difficult decision to remove our family name from the lecture series. I felt a responsibility — as a Jewish philanthropist and as a longtime member of the Crossroads community — to ensure that the values attached to our giving were not selective or situational, but principled and enduring.
Soon after, the head of School at Crossroads reached out, aware of our concerns and committed to finding a better path forward. She proposed a new vision: repurposing our endowment to support faculty from kindergarten through 12th grade in attending a summer program at a former concentration camp in Europe. Those educators would then bring the lessons back into their classrooms in developmentally appropriate ways. It took more than a year of careful conversation and negotiation, but ultimately we reached an agreement we could fully stand behind. Today, Crossroads faculty have the opportunity to participate in this transformative program.
This experience reaffirmed a central lesson: partnerships thrive when communication is open, honest and sustained. It also reaffirmed our belief that Crossroads remains a thoughtful and enduring partner. We have not always agreed on every issue, but the school’s leadership approached our concerns with integrity, seriousness and a willingness to find common ground. Our relationship is stronger today not because difficult conversations were avoided, but because they were met with trust, courage and a shared commitment to educating the next generation.
The larger lesson is simple but urgent: Jewish philanthropists have watched many institutions we once trusted respond inadequately since Oct. 7. We supported them because we believed they stood for inclusion and moral clarity. Yet after the massacre that shook us to our core, too many continued to advocate for others while failing to see, name or stand with the Jewish community.
To fellow Jewish philanthropists who feel disempowered, I offer this message: you still have agency. Even after pledges have been fulfilled, you can engage constructively, ask hard questions, and insist that your philanthropic commitments remain aligned with your values. Do not give up on institutions — but do not disengage from the responsibility to hold them accountable. Our giving should reflect who we are and what we stand for: a future in which every community, including ours, is seen, respected, protected and acknowledged.
Sharon S. Nazarian is the President of the Younes and Soraya Nazarian Family Foundation.
Jewish Donors: Don’t Walk Away
Sharon S. Nazarian, Ph.D.
When our family endowed an annual lecture series at Crossroads School for Arts and Sciences in 2013, we did so with hope and conviction. The Institute for Equity and Justice had just been established — an innovative center that was rare, if not unparalleled, at the high school level. We believed in its potential to help educate the school community toward a more just society, and we saw its mission as deeply aligned with our Jewish values: a commitment to human dignity, democratic ideals and the responsibility to stand with vulnerable communities.
From the beginning, we grounded the series in a way that at least one lecture each year focused on the Holocaust, the enduring lessons of genocide prevention and the vigilance required to confront antisemitism, hatred and dehumanization. In its early years, the program reflected that promise: bold voices, diverse perspectives and meaningful opportunities for students and the broader community to engage with urgent moral questions.
Over time, however, I began to feel a growing dissonance between the Institute’s programming and our family values. I noticed guest speakers who were powerful advocates for their own communities, but did so by diminishing Israeli, Zionist and, at times, Jewish identities. Planning the lecture series became increasingly difficult. I found myself reviewing speakers’ past writings and public statements, trying to ensure that the pursuit of justice for one community did not come at the expense of another. That was the north star I had in my mind and encouraged them to adopt.
After the Oct. 7, 2023 atrocities, we reached a breaking point. The task of assuring that programming remained aligned with the founding goals of the Institute became untenable. Eventually, I realized that this approach was no longer sustainable. After much reflection, I made the difficult decision to remove our family name from the lecture series. I felt a responsibility — as a Jewish philanthropist and as a longtime member of the Crossroads community — to ensure that the values attached to our giving were not selective or situational, but principled and enduring.
Soon after, the head of School at Crossroads reached out, aware of our concerns and committed to finding a better path forward. She proposed a new vision: repurposing our endowment to support faculty from kindergarten through 12th grade in attending a summer program at a former concentration camp in Europe. Those educators would then bring the lessons back into their classrooms in developmentally appropriate ways. It took more than a year of careful conversation and negotiation, but ultimately we reached an agreement we could fully stand behind. Today, Crossroads faculty have the opportunity to participate in this transformative program.
This experience reaffirmed a central lesson: partnerships thrive when communication is open, honest and sustained. It also reaffirmed our belief that Crossroads remains a thoughtful and enduring partner. We have not always agreed on every issue, but the school’s leadership approached our concerns with integrity, seriousness and a willingness to find common ground. Our relationship is stronger today not because difficult conversations were avoided, but because they were met with trust, courage and a shared commitment to educating the next generation.
The larger lesson is simple but urgent: Jewish philanthropists have watched many institutions we once trusted respond inadequately since Oct. 7. We supported them because we believed they stood for inclusion and moral clarity. Yet after the massacre that shook us to our core, too many continued to advocate for others while failing to see, name or stand with the Jewish community.
To fellow Jewish philanthropists who feel disempowered, I offer this message: you still have agency. Even after pledges have been fulfilled, you can engage constructively, ask hard questions, and insist that your philanthropic commitments remain aligned with your values. Do not give up on institutions — but do not disengage from the responsibility to hold them accountable. Our giving should reflect who we are and what we stand for: a future in which every community, including ours, is seen, respected, protected and acknowledged.
Sharon S. Nazarian is the President of the Younes and Soraya Nazarian Family Foundation.
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