I was ten years old when I first learned I was Jewish—not from my family, but from my classmates. It was in Ukraine, under the former Soviet regime, where Jewish identity was something hidden—spoken in whispers, if at all. When my family made Aliyah to Israel at the age of 14, I believed I was finally stepping into a place where being Jewish meant belonging. But even there, I carried the lingering feeling of otherness. Over time, I came to understand what it truly means to be part of a people, a tradition, and a shared destiny. That journey eventually led me to co-found the Yael Foundation.
That foundation was built on a conviction that has only grown stronger over the years: as Jews, we cannot afford to be mediocre. Not in how we educate our children. Not in how we lead our communities. Not in how we envision our future. Excellence isn’t a luxury for us—it’s a survival imperative.
Our ancestors didn’t endure exile, persecution, and displacement to pass on a diluted version of who we are. They didn’t just survive, when given the opportunity, they thrived.
They gave everything so that we could inherit their identity and tradition, resilience, and pursuit of greatness. Today, that legacy compels us to raise the standard in Jewish life—and especially in Jewish education.
Jewish education is not about learning facts, history, and rote traditions. It is the cornerstone of our identity and the clearest path to ensuring that we remain not only a people of memory, but of meaning, relevance and influence in the modern world. Too many of our children, particularly in the diaspora, are being raised in environments that don’t reflect the excellence our tradition demands.
That is not just a missed opportunity—it is a threat to our people’s continuity.
When my wife Yael and I established the Yael Foundation in 2020, our aim wasn’t to fill a funding gap—it was to raise the bar. We were determined to create a new benchmark for what Jewish education could look like. Today, the foundation supports more than 16,000 students across 41 countries and five continents. Our foundation's motto is ‘No Jewish Child Left Behind.’ That means Jewish children anywhere, whether they are in New York, Buenos Aires, Riga or Finland must have access to quality Jewish formal and non-formal education and experiences.
Our children are watching and waiting
That’s why we have our flagship project, the Jewish Academy of Excellence in Limassol, Cyprus. It’s not just a school—it’s a statement. A commitment to setting the highest standard of rigorous secular academics combined with vibrant, immersive Jewish life. Our children deserve the best of both worlds. They must be fully prepared to engage on the global stage—not only as professionals but as proud, articulate Jews.
This pursuit of excellence is not about elitism—it’s about empowerment. Every Jewish child, no matter where they live, deserves to feel the pride of being part of something exceptional. That’s why we invest in more than classrooms. We must fund after-school programs, Jewish summer camps, and holiday experiences—because Jewish identity must be lived, not just learned.
We also believe that excellence and innovation go hand in hand. We fund initiatives that blend Jewish content with STEM education and cutting-edge pedagogy. These programs do more than teach—they inspire. They prove that being Jewish enhances, not limits, our ability to lead in science, technology, business, and culture.
However, our efforts cannot exist in a vacuum. Jewish excellence must be grounded in community. We’ve seen how fragile Jewish life can be in underserved areas—and how quickly it can be revitalized with the right investment and vision. That’s why the Yael Foundation works closely with local partners to strengthen schools, build infrastructure, and train the next generation of Jewish educators and leaders.
After the horrors of October 7th, many parents hesitated to send their children to Jewish schools. The fear was real, but so was our response.
We launched the Yael Foundation Security Fund to ensure that no child would have to choose between safety and Jewish identity. We built a program of resilience, fortified buildings, trained staff, and coordinated with international partners—because Jewish institutions must not only be excellent, but secure. And they must never be abandoned.
I didn’t grow up in a religious home. I didn’t have access to strong Jewish institutions as a child. My own Jewish journey of observance began as an adult, in distant corners of the diaspora where I met remarkable leaders holding entire communities together with passion, innovation, resourcefulness, and determination. I realized then that Jewish survival doesn’t happen by accident. It happens when we decide that excellence is the only standard worth striving for.
Philanthropy must follow that same logic. It’s not about generosity alone—it’s about responsibility. Jewish philanthropy must lead. It must challenge. It must demand more. If we are building Jewish schools, they must be the best. If we are shaping young minds, we must give them the tools—and the confidence—to lead with purpose and pride.
I look at my two sons and wonder what kind of Jewish world they will inherit. Will it be strong enough to withstand the pressures of assimilation, apathy, and fear? Will it be bold enough to lead and thrive—not just survive—in the world? The answer depends on what we do now.
Jewish education is not a luxury. It is our frontline. It is where we win or lose the battle for the Jewish future. And if we want to be heard, respected, and proud on the global stage—we must start by being excellent. That begins with the education we impart to our children.
Mediocrity is not an option. Not for us. Not now. The future of the Jewish people demands more. And together, we must rise to meet that call.
Uri Poliavich is a leading Jewish philanthropist, entrepreneur, and CEO. As co-founder of the Yael Foundation, which he established with his wife Yael to champion excellence in Jewish education worldwide, he believes the Jewish people cannot afford to settle for mediocrity—neither in values, vision, nor leadership.