We are living in very difficult times. The Jewish world is changing and our sense of security and unity in recent years continues to be challenging. Our community is fractured and the strength in family isn’t what it once was.
Families shrink as we lose loved ones and time pulls people apart. Work, life, distance – before we know it, cousins we grew up with are people we might see at a wedding, aunts and uncles become names on a WhatsApp thread, and those who move overseas are just faces popping up on Facebook if you’re lucky. How we miss those family tables that once overflowed with voices and arguments.
Fortunately, my table is still full and, after losing my brother, the seats are filled by his children, his wife, my sister and her family. We also welcome lots of friends to our home on Shabbat as I realise that even those who aren’t religious now feel the pull of tradition.
In a world that has turned cold, we crave the warmth of family – not just in sentiment, but in numbers. Because in the face of erasure, in the face of those who wish us gone, there is only one real response: to gather and hold on to each other. To connect.
David Goldberg found his family
Turning 60 felt like the perfect moment for a grand project – one that would connect me with family far beyond my immediate circle. I’ve always been deeply connected to my wife, my daughter, my son (even though he now lives in Israel), my son-in-law and my two grandchildren. I know where they are most of the time – not out of helicopter parenting, but simply because life keeps us close. But the further branches of my family tree? That was a mystery I was determined to solve and this was pre-October 7, so although it wasn’t a catalyst, finding family felt relevant.
I decided to trace each of my four grandparents, mapping out their siblings – many of whom I still remembered from childhood – and uncovering what had become of them. Luckily, I had a head start. More than 30 years ago, I interviewed my parents for an educational project and had already recorded many names. Now, I wanted to go deeper. Who were the children of my great-uncles and aunts? Where had they gone? What were their stories? The more I dug, the more fascinating it became. What started as a personal exploration soon turned into an all-consuming mission that continues to grow today.
The Hoffman family tree
Using MyHeritage, I started building my family tree, discovering distant relatives through its global research network. Suddenly I was a genealogy junkie, fuelled by the thrill of making connections through public records, Facebook, LinkedIn, and any digital breadcrumbs left behind. Evenings were spent piecing together relationships, finding missing links and unearthing long-lost relatives.
As the tree expanded, I reached out to second cousins, arranging Zoom calls with people I had never met but who shared my ancestry. The conversations were full of fascinating stories, unexpected connections and an overwhelming enthusiasm from relatives who were just as eager to link back to the Hoffman family through the maternal line of my grandmother, Lily.
Grandma Lily
And that’s when the idea struck me: why not bring everyone together? The descendants of Abraham and Fanny Hoffman, scattered across continents, could reunite. It was ambitious, but I started inviting everyone I could find. The most far-flung relative? Daniel, grandson of great-aunt Beckie, who had fallen in love with an American GI during the First World War.
Abraham Hoffman
Fanny Hoffman
She left Stoke Newington for Minneapolis, Minnesota, to start a new life. Through LinkedIn, I tracked Daniel to a carpet store in Florida where he had once worked. I called the store, got his contact details and, after a few Zoom calls (and a few tears), he and his wife Terry agreed to come to the gathering at our home.
What made this project even more poignant was its timing. Just as I was discovering my family’s past, I was stepping into the future – becoming a grandfather for the first time. Seeing the generations before me laid out on a five-metre-wide family tree, and then adding my granddaughter’s name to it, was a profound moment. It made me reflect on what our ancestors gave us and what we, in turn, will pass on to future generations.
This journey has reshaped how I see my own legacy. If Abraham and Fanny Hoffman could build a better future for their family, it’s up to us to do the same. For our children, our grandchildren and generations to come.
Reconnecting reaffirmed my belief and made a cold world feel a lot warmer.
