Mozelle Forman

In life, we like to be prepared. We like to know what’s coming next and what we can look forward to. This psychological disposition is primarily driven by a desire for control and a belief that by anticipating events we can reduce our anxiety. Also, it is a natural human tendency to think about potential outcomes. Doing so allows us to plan and make informed decisions based on predicted future scenarios. Essentially, knowing what the future will bring can provide a sense of security and allows us to make a plan of action in an uncertain world. When the unexpected happens, we become agitated and anxious. We can be momentarily thrown off our game while we contemplate our actions based on the changed circumstances. And when an unexpected, untimely death occurs, the shock, anxiety, and grief throw us into a tailspin.

The community at large, and the Mishaan family in particular, experienced this phenomenon when Zak, a”h, was suddenly taken from this world on Hol Hamoed Sukkot, just the day before his beloved holidays of Hoshana Raba and Simhat Torah. The disbelief, the question of “how could this be?” was a haunting echo for his family, as they struggled to make sense of something that made no sense. Visitors to the family endeavored to offer consolation, even while knowing that words were hollow and the grief was deep. Yet, as Rabbi Eli Mansour stated at the arayat, “You don’t have to have answers when you have friends. The greatest consolation for the mourners is to be there for them, and cry with them, and hold their hand.”

Community Rabbis’ Words of Consolation

Rabbi Meir Yedid described the sense of disorientation Zak’s family and friends endured with his sudden passing. “We ask ourselves, eichah, how could it be?” as we do in Megilat Eichah, pondering the loss of the Beit Hamikdash. “How could it be that Zak is gone?” In an effort to offer consolation and understanding to his family and friends, Rabbi David Ozeri shared the story of Hanoch who died at the young age of 365 years old, when his contemporaries were living between 800 and 900 years. “The Torah tells us, ‘Hanoch walked with Elokim, and then he was no longer there, because Elokim had taken him.’ No explanation, no preparation. One day he was just gone. In the same way, Zak was taken from us.” We cannot comprehend the why’s of Hashem’s world and Rabbi Mansour confirms that “Gd is supposed to be beyond our comprehension. If I understand every move that my Gd makes then I have demoted Him to human intellect.”

Rabbi Azencot likens Zak’s short but powerful life to the life of our matriarch Sarah. When the Torah recounts her life, it is written, “The life of Sarah was 100 years and 20 years and 7 years; the years of Sarah’s life.” Rashi famously tells us that the repetition of “the years of Sarah’s life” indicates that, while they were not many in number, they were equally good. Rabbi Azencot explained that, like Sarah, all of Zak’s years were good. “He lived his life with a sense of urgency, running to catch every mitzvah. His life was full of achievement with concern for everyone and kavod for the Torah with majesty and dignity. He is a role model to all of us of how to live an achieved life.” Focusing on the achievements of his life can bring an acceptance that he fulfilled his mission in this world assuaging our need to ask why? Rabbi Mansour shared the advice he personally heard Rabbi Amar give to a grieving mother: “You have enough pain in your loss. Don’t pain yourself more in trying to figure it out.”

A True Friend

The short and meaningful life that Zak lived, was the epitome of verse 1:6 in Pirkei Avot, “Make for yourself a Rabbi, acquire for yourself a friend, and judge every person to the side of merit.” Zak’s friends and family overwhelmingly cited his love and respect for the Rabbis and described his yearning for and connection to them. He sought out their counsel, supported their causes, and was proud to know the rabbis and be known by them. Rabbis David Ozeri, Meyer Yedid, and David Sutton considered Zak to be a friend and they shared a close relationship with him. They applauded his successes and were awed by his commitment and devotion to tefillah and hesed. Rabbi Ozeri cites Zak’s delight at being able to donate generously, proactively writing a ma’aser check before he had even earned the money and celebrating with a l’haim, not to his earnings, but to his zechut for giving the money to charity.

Zak acquired many friends in his lifetime – you might say he sought out friendship from many and those he sought felt better for having known him. Ikey Mandalawy, a more recent friend, expressed the sheer comedy of his friendship with Zak given their 20-year age difference and lack of commonality. What was most impressive to Ikey was Zak’s conscientious adherence to the third element of our Mishna – judge your fellow favorably. Zak had on the spur of a moment joined Ikey and a group of men on a short trip to Israel. Ikey recounts a conversation he had with Zak on that trip. “Zak came to me and said, ‘When I first met you, I sized you up and made up my mind the kind of guy you are. But that’s not who you are. You are different than I thought you would be and I apologize for thinking that.’ I was surprised. I would have never known what he thought of me if he hadn’t said anything. But even thinking wrong about me upset him and he had to acknowledge it.” Zak’s inner conscience and his desire to achieve maximum growth motivated him to acknowledge his mistake and to deliver an apology even when not necessary.

A Man of Intense Dedication

Zak’s dedication to Torah, tefilla, hesed, and emet, and his profound respect for the Rabbis comes as no surprise to those who knew him well. Zak’s fierce dedication and loyalty, his enthusiastic energy, were all part of his DNA. He adored his parents, was passionately devoted to his wife and children, and held his friends dear. Every tefilla, said with deep fervor and intent was in the zechut of his children. Rabbi Ozeri witnessed his deep concentration during tefilla and believes that Zak “built a real relationship with Hashem through his prayers.” His children attest to the fact that he was their greatest fan and greatest support. He poured his love into them with his

heart and with his time. His mother, Sally Mishaan, described Zak’s singular ability to “make each person feel uniquely valued…and made them feel that you truly understood their struggle.”

We are told that anything we experience or witness in our life has significance from which we can learn and grow. What is the legacy that we inherit from Zak’s passing at the prime of his life? We can learn much by listening to the thoughts and emotions his children expressed at his arayat. Sally, described as her father’s princess, expressed her gratitude for all the shared times she had with her father and his excitement and encouragement of all her endeavors. Jackie began with words of thanks, as did both of his brothers. “My Dad used to say you can never say thank you enough, so I thank the community and give hakarat hatov to Hashem for creating this amazing community.” Jackie believes that clinging to Torah was the most valuable choice Zak ever made for his family and advises, “never take your parents for granted.” Zak’s son Sam witnessed his father invest in making a mark on people. “Dad,” he said at the arayat, “you believed in me, gave me strength, uplifted me, and built my inner confidence.” Richie summed up his father’s legacy of persistently working on himself and passing Torah values to his family. “It is our time to live as he lived – seize each moment of every day, fear Hashem in all of our doings, love unconditionally, and be relentless for our families.”

Zak’s World View

Rabbi Meyer Yedid observed that Zak lived his life with an intuitive understanding that the world we live in is not permanent. “When one recognizes that the world is temporary it gives you power, it gives you strength, it makes you value life, and the opportunities that life gives us…we start to love people, start to ask what are we responsible for, and we become givers.” Zak looked for the opportunities that would bring him closer to Hashem, he focused on the love he felt for his family and friends. He understood his responsibilities to his community and his avodah and sought out any occasion to become a giver. The length of our life does not determine the impact that we can make on the world. Zak is proof of this. The prerequisite for living a full and fulfilled life is the desire to show up and make a difference. And Zak made a difference in the lives of so many. In a loving tribute to his brother, Saul Mishaan expressed what he believed Zak would have liked to say to his friends and family. “Life is short; use your time wisely. Keep your friends close, draw strength from one another, enjoy your family, and always be grateful.”

These are words of wisdom that can help us to live our fullest, most connected life. May Hashem send comfort to his family, friends, and the entire community. And in the merit of trying to emulate Zak’s approach to life, may his neshama have an aliyah. Amen.

Victor Cohen

On September 29, 2024, Hacham David Yosef, the ninth son of Hacham Ovadia Yosef, zt”l, was elected to be the Sephardic Chief Rabbi for the next ten years. On December 11, Hacham David was officially inaugurated in an intimate morning ceremony at the Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai Synagogue in Jerusalem’s Old City, with a much larger celebration following at Jerusalem’s Great Synagogue in the afternoon.. Hacham David followed his older brother, Hacham Yitzhak Yosef, the sixth son of Hacham Ovadia, in the position. Their father held the position of Sephardic Chief Rabbi himself from 1973 to 1983.

Hacham David comes in as Chief Rabbi while Israel is still in crisis, with hostile forces threatening Israel on multiple fronts and hostages still held by Hamas. The Chief Rabbi will shoulder heavy responsibilities during this time. He will not only guide our people halachically. He will also serve as the spiritual leader of Israel, the Rishon LeZion. With Hashem’s help, Hacham David will fulfill both roles with wisdom, strength, and compassion. He served as the Chief Rabbi of Har Nof in Jerusalem, ran Yechave Daat, and was involved with the Shas Party, the political party that his father helped to found.

Hacham David’s inauguration was a beautiful, monumental event for all of Israel and for Sephardic community around the world. Hacham David’s family has been one of the most influential families in Sephardic Jewry for the past few decades, and it is amazing to see Hacham Ovadia live on through his children.

Hacham David’s inauguration was attended by notable figures including President Isaac Herzog, former Chief Rabbi Shlomo Amar, the Shas Party’s Council of Torah Sages, and other religious leaders and members of the Rabbinate. Rabbis from our community attended as well, including Rabbi Shmuel Choueka, Rabbi David Ozeri, Rabbi Edmond Nahum, and Rabbi Shaul J. Kassin.

They started the day by praying in Yechave Daat. “It was very prestigious and emotional,” Rabbi Kassin recalled. He had learned at Hacham David’s Yechave Daat in his youth, and personally received help and advice from Hacham David.

From Generation to Generation

“What I was thinking about most was how much nachat it would bring his father,” Rabbi Kassin said, referring to Hacham Ovadia, “especially that two of his children continued the family legacy.” His father’s presence was felt throughout the day. In a touching moment that bridged generations of Jewish leadership, Hacham David was draped in the ceremonial robe once worn by his father. Hacham David’s own official garments closely resemble Hacham Ovadia’s, symbolically holding his father close as he ascends to his former position.

Rabbi Kassin noted that Hacham Ovadia’s tireless work to building something special for Israel continues to bear fruit, years down the line, in the form of his children taking up his legacy and continuing it.

The Yosef family has made halacha accessible through their writings and books. They “revolutionized” the study of halacha, according to Rabbi Kassin. Hacham David specifically took part in this through his Halacha Berurah, an encyclopedic masterpiece that breaks down the entirety of Jewish Law with a high level of precision.

The Chief Rabbi has a great opportunity to elevate the spirituality of the entirety of Israel. Rabbi Kassin explained that they need someone “who cares for them,” someone who will take the proper time to really work on elevating their spirituality. Especially now, when Israel is still fighting, this is a significant undertaking. Upon his election, Hacham David said that with Hashem’s help, he would work “night and day to unify Israel during this difficult time.”

Rabbi Kassin noted that there is much that a Chief Rabbi has to deal with. The position requires many years of observing or experiencing the ins and outs of the role. It is a heavy position, with many responsibilities. Hacham David, Rabbi Kassin said, “has seen that throughout his life.” He was both raised by a Chief Rabbi, and saw his brother rise to that same position, Hacham David is surrounded by greatness and is poised to continue the family legacy.

Rabbi David Sutton & Dr. David Katzenstein, LCSW-R

As a bachur, Rav Yerucham Levovitz learned in the Talmud Torah of Kelm. Prestigious kollel avreichim learned there, as well, though they lived the life of bachurim. They would leave their homes, travel to Kelm, learn there for a month at a time, and only see their wives and children for a short time at the end of every month.

Weakness or Greatness?

A fire once broke out in one of the houses next to the Talmud Torah, and many nearby houses burned down, though the bet midrash remained intact. As the fire raged on, edging ever closer to the yeshivah, an outstanding kollel avreich thought to himself, “I hope the yeshivah burns down. Then I’ll be able to go home to my wife and children.”

When we hear this, our first reaction may be, Oh my goodness, this man is a horror! But when sharing the story (Daat Torah, Bamidbar p. 82-83), Rav Yerucham has a different take. In his opinion, this is a sign of greatness. The avreich knew himself and realized that deep down inside he had a desire to return home to see his wife and kids. If he were to just show up at home in the middle of the zman (semester), his wife might say, “Why are you coming home now? You’re supposed to be learning in yeshivah. You don’t belong here.” But if he could say, “The yeshivah burned down. I had to come home,” he would have an acceptable excuse, and he would not have to be embarrassed to come back to his family.

Understanding Oneself

A person must be able to recognize his shortcomings, asserts Rav Yerucham. This is why the Torah is always looking for and finding fault in our Avot, and the Dor HaMidbar. Sefer Bamidbar is replete with stories of Klal Yisrael’s complaints and grumbles, their agitation and insurrection. This is the Torah’s way of showing what is really going on inside of a human being. The pasuk says: Though man is glorious, if he does not understand himself, he is like the silenced animals (Tehillim 49:21). Rav Yerucham tells us that a person who does not really know what is going on inside himself is not considered a human being at all.

The Pele Yoetz (on the topic of pachad, fear) shares a story that took place in the time of the Rambam. An adam gadol did not want to say Viduy on Yom Kippur, claiming that he had not

committed many of the sins enumerated in the text. Why should he lie before Gd? Don’t we say that the stamp of Gd is truth?

The Rambam countered, “If you truly understood the level of avodat Hashem demanded of each individual, you would realize that a day does not go by in which you do not commit every transgression listed in the Viduy, and then some.”

How can that be? Every single day, a great person transgressed in so many areas?

Look at the Fine Points

Take a look at David HaMelech. The Navi informs us that David HaMelech sinned with a married woman, when, in truth, she was divorced (II Shmuel, Ch. 11-12). So what does that mean? We are not to merely view the full picture of an action, but the fine points, as well. True, David did not sin with a married woman, but he erred in the subtle points of his action. Though the adam gadol in the days of the Rambam had not actually committed all the sins in the Viduy, he may have transgressed in the small nuances, which, if one is perfectly honest, are associated with more serious iniquity. We are all encouraged to look carefully through our deeds, including the fine points, and learn to know ourselves.

Rav Yisrael Salantar admitted that he would not want to be left in a room with uncounted money. Other baalei mussar went a step further. “If you left me in a room with uncounted money, I would take it.” Does that really mean they would take it? No, it means that they felt that they had some kind of taste for that sin inside of themselves – because they were always checking on themselves.

Why Harvard Alum Shabbos Kestenbaum is Suing Harvard for Anti-Semitism

An Exclusive Interview with Shabbos Kestenbaum

DAVE GORDON

Shabbos Kestenbaum has emerged as a prominent Jewish student activist, gaining significant attention for his efforts to combat anti-Semitism on college campuses, particularly at Harvard University.

Kestenbaum ‘s activism took center stage when he became the lead plaintiff in a lawsuit against Harvard University, alleging “pervasive” and systemic anti-Semitism.

Filed in January 2024, the lawsuit claims violations of Title VI of the Civil Rights Act and breach of contract.

According to the plaintiffs, the university has become a “bastion of rampant anti-Jewish hatred and harassment,” where Jewish students have faced intimidation, harassment, and even physical threats. The lawsuit highlights incidents such as pro-Hamas rallies on campus and administrative failures to discipline those responsible for anti-Semitic actions. Kestenbaum himself has recounted facing death threats after speaking out against anti-Semitic acts, including the defacement of posters depicting Israeli hostages.

He found himself on a campus hosting pro-Hamas demonstrations. Some professors reportedly referred to Hamas as “resistance fighters.” Requests for an Israeli flag display were denied by an administration that had previously flown flags for other causes like Ukraine. Kestenbaum also described incidents of

harassment so severe that he had to hire private security and reported instances where Jewish students were singled out or excluded due to their identities.

The case gained significant traction, and on August 6, 2024, U.S. District Judge Richard Stearns ruled that the lawsuit would proceed to trial, rejecting the school’s move to dismiss the case. Stearns criticized the university’s response to anti-Semitism as “indecisive, vacillating, and at times internally contradictory.” He noted that the plaintiffs had plausibly established that Harvard’s actions – or lack thereof – failed to meet Title VI’s requirements.

This first-of-its-kind legal action has positioned Kestenbaum, along with five other plaintiffs, at the forefront of the fight against anti-Semitism in higher education. He graduated from Harvard in June 2024.

The Plaintiffs’ Demands

The lawsuit seeks both monetary damages and systemic changes at Harvard. Plaintiffs demand disciplinary measures against those responsible for anti-Semitic acts, mandatory training on anti-Semitism akin to Title IX training for other forms of discrimination, and divestment from donations tied to anti-Semitic agendas. Kestenbaum has also called for a zero-tolerance policy for anti-Semitism at Harvard.

Harvard has defended its actions, stating that it is committed to combating anti-Semitism and fostering civil dialogue. However, critics argue that its responses have been insufficient. The university’s preliminary recommendations from an anti-Semitism task force earlier this year were met with disappointment from Jewish leaders, who deemed them insufficient.

The lawsuit tests how far universities must go to protect minority students while balancing free speech rights. For Kestenbaum and his co-plaintiffs, the fight is not just legal – it is about ensuring Jewish students can feel safe and respected in academic spaces.

Kestenbaum’s educational background reflects a strong connection to his Jewish heritage and community. He attended Yeshivat Noam in Teaneck, NJ, and later SAR High School in Riverdale, NY, after his family relocated.

At Harvard University, Kestenbaum enrolled in the Master’s in Theological Studies program at Harvard Divinity School. He founded and served as President of the Harvard Divinity School’s Jewish Student Association, and was active in Harvard Hillel and Chabad.

Kestenbaum Takes to the National Stage

Kestenbaum’s advocacy efforts have extended to the national stage. He testified before the Congressional House Education and Workforce Committee about anti-Semitism on campus. He has also spoken at various high-profile events, including the Republican National Convention on July 17, 2024, where he addressed the issue of antisemitism at Harvard. Despite speaking at the RNC, Kestenbaum has described himself as a Democrat who has consistently voted for the party, emphasizing his willingness to speak at both Republican and Democratic events to raise awareness about anti-Semitism.

Kestenbaum’s influence extends beyond political spheres. He has given presentations at non-political venues, including Bnai Yeshurun in Teaneck on July 29, 2024, and Shurat HaDin’s conference in New York in late October. He has been featured in numerous media outlets discussing his experiences and

activism. Recently, he won the Myron Zimmerman Award for Outstanding Student Activism from ZOA.

Community Magazine was granted an exclusive interview with Shabbos Kestenbaum, to discuss his impactful work, and his vision for a future.

CM: What are you doing now that you have graduated from Harvard?

I do lots of speaking engagements. I travel across the country, and we’re trying to build a coalition of young people who are passionate about Jewish identity, whose values are Jewish values. It’s just natural to me in the sense that I was raised to be a proud American and to be a proud Jew. It’s just kind of part of who I am. I am encouraging as many people as possible to do the exact same thing.

CM: If you weren’t doing what you do now, what would you be doing?

Yeah, if this craziness hadn’t happened, I always liked the idea of education. Maybe I would have pursued something in public policy. But primarily, I was really passionate about teaching. I actually taught before, both informal and informal education. But fortune had other plans. I have worked at Salanter Akiba Riverdale Academy in Riverdale, then I was a city director in Westchester’s National Council of Synagogue Youth.

I really enjoyed it. I primarily worked with Jewish teenagers, especially those from unaffiliated or limited backgrounds, trying to expose them to the beauty and the meaning Judaism. So again, I sort of was always doing this. I was always just passionate about it.

CM: What message would you send to major Jewish organizations?

The American Jewish community is blessed to have a plethora of Jewish nonprofits, of Jewish leaders. To me, though, one of the greatest problems that we young American Jews are experiencing is that there does not seem to be a lot of synthesis between those groups.

I’ll give you one quick example that happened this past January. A major CEO of a major Jewish nonprofit, I will not say who, came to Harvard and told us they had an ambitious plan. They’re going to create a national database where all Jewish students should report their incidents to that database, and they’re going to use that database to advocate for policy in Congress. Two weeks later, a CEO of a different major Jewish nonprofit came to Harvard and told us Jewish students, they’re going to create a national database, and all Jewish students should report things to them. And of course, they’ll use the data to advocate for policy.

So, we’re all on the same team. We all advocate more or less for the same things. But it doesn’t seem like the Jewish nonprofits are talking to each other as much as they should be, and the people who get hurt the most by that are, of course, Jewish students – because we bear the brunt of reckless leadership of an anti-Semitic, or indifferent, administration or university, and we really need our leaders to step up, and sometimes they don’t.

CM: What message would you give to Jewish students?

If I can do it, they can do it, too. Because the things that I do, I don’t think are particularly revolutionary or thought provoking. I think they’re pretty obvious. But not enough young people were saying it. Not enough young people at the time were calling out the universities, were calling out their classmates and professors.

Many of us thought the same things, but few were willing to say it out loud. Thankfully, the tide has slowly turned, and more and more North American Jewish students are taking on the mantle of leadership. They’re filing lawsuits. They’re testifying in front of Congress and parliament. They are, on their own initiative, meeting with lawmakers on both sides of the aisle. So, I’ve always been passionate about those things, and I’m incredibly grateful that I have been given a platform to continue to speak about those things.

CM: I understand that you’ve litigated Harvard. Could you expand on that, and where’s it at now?

We filed in mid-January, essentially alleging gross violation of Title VI or the Civil Rights Act. We believe Harvard has totally been flagrant with the violation of their obligations under federal law. Harvard filed a motion to dismiss with prejudice, though they didn’t acknowledge the anti-Semitic environment. They did not apologize. They did not come to the negotiating table. Instead, they asked a judge to not only toss out our lawsuit, but to make it so that no other Jewish student in the future would be able to hold the university accountable. So, we filed an amended complaint in late May, I believe, to reflect the increasing acts of anti-Semitism, and Harvard did the exact same thing. They filed a second motion to dismiss with prejudice, and we are incredibly thankful that in August, the judge, Judge Richard Stearns of the Federal District Court of Massachusetts, tossed out Harvard’s double motions to dismiss, and we’re going to trial.

This is one of the first cases in American history that pertains to the Civil Rights violations of Jews on a college campus, that will actually have gone to trial. So, we will begin a period of depositions, a period of discovery. And Harvard should be nervous, because the facts on our side and they will finally, finally, finally be held accountable for their pervasive and systemic anti-Semitism that they formalized, they accepted and that celebrated. And might I say, aided, abetted, and was an accomplice to.

I will continue to hold them accountable, both in the court of law in the court of public opinion. And I encourage donors, I encourage alumni, I encourage the American Jewish community to follow this story closely.

CM: You were invited to speak at the Republican National Convention. When you got the call, what was that call like?

I remember the call really well, because I was actually driving to the Hamptons. I was driving on the highway, and this woman called me. Her name was Brittany, and said, “We’ve been following your story, and we’re so sorry what you’re experiencing, and we would love it if you would be willing to speak at the Republican National Convention.”

I was so caught off guard by that. I wasn’t able to process. That’s like, a pretty big deal.

I was very clear that I would speak on almost any platform, if it meant that the narratives of Jewish students on college campuses would be heard and would be elevated.

I was also clear publicly, that if the Democrats and the Democratic National Convention wanted me to speak, I would be more than happy to. I’d be happy to connect them with any Jewish student. And they refused to take me up on that offer.

The Republican National Convention, to their credit, allowed me to speak. They allowed me to share my story. I did not endorse Trump at that speech. I was very clear to shy away from the political endorsement. But I give credit to the Republicans and credit to the Republican National Convention. They amplified the voices of Jewish students.

I was doing a walkthrough of my speech with the RNC staff. They sort of told me the logistics and the technical details. It was only after the two-hour walkthrough as I’m about to leave, I turn around and actually said, “You know, I do have one question. Can you promise me that when I give this speech tonight in front of 30,000 people in the arena, and look at President Trump in front of millions of Americans watching at home, can you promise me that the camera shows my kippah?”

This would be the biggest audience I would ever receive that could actually see that in the 21st century, young American Jews not only can and should, but must, must, must be wearing their Jewish pride as loudly, publicly and confidently as ever before.

That moment in my life I will not soon forget. It was incredibly special to be able to represent some of the Jewish students who’ve entrusted me with their stories, and to showcase how I am proudly Jewish. I’m proudly American, and those two are not contradictory.

CM: If you had any advice for President-elect Donald Trump, what would it be?

Deliver on the promises, whether it’s the anti-Semitism awareness act, whether it is cutting funding from anti-Semitic universities that have violated the civil rights of students, whether it is taxing the endowments or deporting non-American students who violate the law. He should make good on the promises he has made, and I will help the administration, in any capacity, in any position, to work with the Jewish American community, to work with Jewish students, and to make sure that our community is protected, and has advocates.

CM: What is your advice to Jewish students?

Don’t stop fighting. This is an inflection point in our country’s history, and in particular in the story of American Jewry. It has never been more important to wear your Jewish pride loudly, publicly.

You have nothing to apologize for. Advance the cause of American democracy, of Western civilization, of the Jewish state and of Jewish values. Because this fight, the fight of ideology, is critical for the survival not just of the Jewish people, but of the United States.

Students are on the front lines of this battle. It’s a battle that’s being waged 24/7. It’s a battle that we didn’t ask to be part of. It’s a problem we did not create, but it’s young Jewish students who are going to fix the problem.

CM: What do you mean by “fix the problem”?

The problem is that of rampant anti-Semitism, political indoctrination, and anti-Americanism on our campuses. We are the ones who are going to showcase not just to our college campuses, but to the rest of the country, that America is good, that Jewish values are worth fighting for, that American Jews are part of the tapestry of what makes this country so great, and we are not going to shy away from our identity and from our ideology.

CM: What would you like the Jewish community to do, to help you and to help college students?

You must amplify the voices of Jewish students.

Invite them to your dinners and conferences. Have them in the boardrooms and in the meetings. Bring them to Capitol Hill because they have something that you will never have, and that is direct personal experience. They know how to fix this more than anyone in the Jewish community. Respect their voices.

Listen to the students.

Something about baby Moshe made it clear that he was Jewish.

Moshe’s mother had placed him in a basket in the river, and the basket was soon discovered by none other than the Egyptian princess, Pharaoh’s daughter. She opened the basket, saw a baby crying, and immediately determined, “Miyaldeh ha’Ivrim zeh – This one is from the children of the Hebrews!” (Shemot 2:6). Apparently, Moshe had some feature that was unique to Beneh Yisrael, such that the princess was immediately able to conclude that he was one of “the children of the Hebrews.”

Rashi writes that she saw Moshe’s berit milah, and this was enough for Pharaoh’s daughter to determine that he was a Jew.

There are, however, other approaches that have been taken – and which highlight certain qualities which characterize – and must always characterize – the Jewish Nation.

The Silent Cry

One such explanation I was privileged to hear from the former Ashkenazic Chief Rabbi of the State of Israel, Rav Yisrael Meir Lau, shelit”a.

Rav Lau noted a number of other difficulties in this verse. For one thing, Moshe is referred here in two different ways. The Torah tells that “vatir’ehu et hayeled” – the princess saw “the child,” but then writes, “hinei na’ar bocheh” – “behold, a young lad was crying.” The words “yeled” (child) and “na’ar” (young lad) are not at all synonymous. A yeled is a small child, whereas a na’ar is an older child, a young adult. How could the Torah describe three-month-old Moshe as a “crying na’ar”?

Rashi, based on the Gemara (Sotah 12b), explains that Moshe’s voice resembled that of an older child, an adolescent. Although he was still an infant, he had the voice of a na’ar.

At first glance, this seems very strange. Why would Moshe, at three months old, have the voice of a teenage boy? Indeed, another view in the Gemara dismisses this opinion, refusing to accept that the greatest prophet and leader of all time was blemished in this fashion.

To explain this concept, Rav Lau draws upon his own experience as a young boy in a situation not all that different from Moshe’s.

Born in Poland in 1937, Rav Lau was a young boy when the Nazis broke into his family’s home to take them away. He recalls how his mother tried hiding him to protect him – just as Moshe’s mother successfully hid Moshe from the Egyptian authorities who were bent on carrying out Pharaoh’s cruel edict to kill all newborn boys. Little Yisrael Meir saw the dread and trepidation on his mother’s face, and he himself shared her fears. Still a young child, he naturally felt like crying – but he knew that he could not cry out loud. Any sound he would make would draw the attention of the Nazi troops. Although he was just several years old, the horrific circumstances he endured forced him to have the maturity to cry silently. Normally, only adults have the wisdom and strength to keep their cries to themselves, and

weep in silence, but young Yisrael Meir Lau, on that terrifying day, was, in this sense, an adult, and he cried quietly.

Many years later, Rav Lau realized that this might have been true also of baby Moshe. Although just an infant, Moshe had been trained to cry silently. Ever since birth, he was hidden from those who wanted to kill him, and so he was forced to weep quietly. And for this reason, Rav Lau said, the Torah says that Pharaoh’s daughter saw (vatir’ehu) a weeping child – and not that she heard the baby’s cries. Moshe was a yeled, a young child, but he cried like a na’ar, with the maturity to realize that he must cry silently, and so he was only seen, but not heard.

This is how the princess determined right away that Moshe was an Israelite child. Rav Lau explained that we Jews, having suffered so much persecution and hostility, are accustomed to silent weeping. We have been forced throughout our history to keep our cries quiet, to avoid drawing the attention and the resentment of those who seek to harm us. Silent weeping is a uniquely Jewish quality, and thus Pharaoh’s daughter immediately realized that “miyaldeh ha’Ivrim zeh” – Moshe was a Jew.

But there is a different understanding of this pasuk – one which reflects not only the unfortunate reality of our nation’s silent cries, but also the unique bond which we are to feel toward our fellow Jews.

The Crying Brother

This understanding emerges from a brief but fascinating comment of the Ba’al Haturim (Rabbenu Yaakov Ben Asher, Germany-Spain, d. 1340) in interpreting this verse. The Ba’al Haturim observes that the words “na’ar bocheh” (“a crying lad”), as spelled in this verse, have the same gematria (numerical value) as the words “zeh Aharon Hakohen – This is Aharon the Kohen.” Surprisingly, the Ba’al Haturim asserts that the “crying lad” in this verse is not Moshe, the infant whom Pharaoh’s daughter sees in the basket, but rather his older brother, Aharon, who was standing off to the side. The Torah tells us that Moshe’s sister, Miriam, had gone to the riverbank to see what would happen to her baby brother, but, according to the Ba’al Haturim, Aharon was there, too. And, as Aharon watched his baby brother helplessly floating in a basket on the river, without his parents or anyone to care for him, and exposed to the danger of the ruthless Egyptian authorities, he cried.

According to the Ba’al Haturim, the “yeled” and the “na’ar” in this verse are two different people – Moshe and Aharon. Pharaoh’s daughter saw the child, and then, “behold, there was a lad weeping” – she heard someone else crying for this infant. And it was then that she determined, “Miyaldeh ha’Ivrim zeh” – that this must be a Jewish child.

One of the defining characteristics of our nation is empathy, feeling each other’s pain. We are all brothers and sisters, and we all cry when our fellow Jew is in distress. When we hear of a fellow Jew who has taken seriously ill, we cry and pray. When we hear of a fellow Jew who has fallen into financial straits, we cry and see how we can help. When we hear of fellow Jews in Israel who are killed in war or terror attacks, we cry. We cry and pray for the hostages, for the soldiers waging war, for those who have sustained injuries, and for the grieving families. This is what we do. And so when Pharaoh’s daughter saw a young man crying because of a baby that was floating helplessly in the river, she understood that this was a Jewish child.

“Adam” vs. “Anashim”

Rav Meir Shapiro of Lublin (1887-1933) explained on this basis an otherwise mysterious Talmudic passage which, until his interpretation, was used by antisemites throughout the ages to fuel the flames of hatred and suspicion of Jews. The Gemara in Masechet Yevamot (61a) cites the prophet Yehezkel’s pronouncement to the Jewish Nation (34:31), “Adam atem” – literally, “You are people.” This indicates, the Gemara notes, that “you are called ‘adam,’ but the gentiles are not called ‘adam’.” The Gemara applies this teaching to a halachic concept, to a certain Torah law which depends on the particular status of “adam.” But many a Jew-hater seized upon the Gemara’s remark to provide “evidence” that we are a racist, supremacist people, that we consider all non-Jews as subhuman creatures. It goes without saying that this is a preposterous claim, as Torah law, ethics and tradition teaches us to extend sensitivity and kindness to all people, and to respect the divine image within every human being. But what, then, does the Gemara here mean? In what way are gentiles not considered “adam”?

Rav Shapiro explained the Gemara to mean that gentiles aren’t called “adam,” and are called instead the other word for “person” – “ish.” The difference between the words “adam” and “ish” is that the latter also has a plural form – “anashim.” When we want to speak of two or more people, we say “anashim.” Intriguingly, there is no corresponding plural term for “adam.” This word has only a singular form. The Gemara is teaching us that we, the Jewish People, are always referred to with the singular expression “adam,” even when there are many thousands of us. No matter how many Jews we are talking about, they are always “adam” – a single, indivisible unit. We are all one, like a single body. When one part of the body aches, the entire body suffers – and this is true of Am Yisrael, as well. We all feel each other’s pain, share in each other’s sorrow, and help shoulder each other’s burdens. But other people are called “ish,” or, in the plural, “anashim.” This does not mean that there’s anything wrong with people who aren’t Jewish. It means simply that other nations do not have the same unique cohesiveness and sense of family as Am Yisrael. This is one of our signature qualities, a feature of Jewish life that makes us unique.

Caring Community

I say with great pride that while this is true of the entire Jewish Nation, this is true especially of our beautiful community. One of the things that we excel in is the quality of sharing our fellow’s burden, and coming to his side in his time of need. We are kind, generous, giving, and – most important of all – concerned. We truly care about one another – about our fellow community members, and about our brothers and sisters from outside our community, no matter their background, affiliation, or level of observance. We embody the notion of “adam,” the notion that the entire Jewish Nation comprises a single organic entity that cannot ever be divided.

I hope and pray that in the merit of all the wonderful hesed performed by our community, and of all the heartfelt tefilot recited by our community members for our fellow Jews in need here, in Israel, and throughout the world, Hashem will bless His nation with peace and prosperity, and bring us our long-awaited final redemption, speedily and in our times, amen.

Building Through Loss: Finding Purpose in Pain Jack Gindi

Each morning, as the sun rises over the Rockies, I see nature’s reminder: after darkness comes light. This truth is more profound than ever. My family and I face life’s most challenging journey – coping with the loss of my beloved son, Shaun.

Like many who suffer a significant loss, we haunt ourselves with the question: How do we move on when our world has stopped? I have learned the answer is often found in unexpected moments. They are usually found in conversations, communities, and helping others through similar challenges.

The path through grief is not linear. Some days feel impossible, while others offer glimpses of purpose. It becomes clear that deep pain changes us. It nudges us forward to uncover meaning. It lights our direction toward change. In that journey, we begin to piece together a path that is bigger than ourselves.

This morning, I meditated. I reflected on Shaun’s dreams and our work with struggling teens and families. I realized something profound: moving forward does not mean moving on. It means carrying our loved ones’ vision with us.

After years in real estate development, I learned that every structure needs a solid foundation. But building through loss teaches us something different. Sometimes, our most robust foundations are on the most broken ground. When we channel our grief into purpose, remarkable transformations become possible.

I learned this lesson first in 2008 when I lost my real estate portfolio. Every building I had constructed, every deal I had made – gone. Starting over in my fifties seemed impossible. Yet, that experience taught me that true building is not about properties. It is about building lives.

The rebuilding taught me lessons. They helped me develop tools to guide other families facing similar setbacks. My son, Shaun, embodied this spirit of transformation. He struggled with anxiety and depression. Still, he wanted to help other young people find their way. His words guide me: “I want to transform kids’ lives… I want people to experience an accomplishment in a way that they might have thought was beyond them.” He dreamed of showing kids that their struggles do not define them. I’m struck by the irony that I’m only learning of his dream now in his diary.

I am in my office as I write this. The morning light beams through my window. It reminds me that while some dreams end too soon, others are beginning. I invite you to feel your way through your pain and find your new chapter. We can all discover new meanings because of our losses, not despite them.

Remember: We often discover our most meaningful purpose in our darkest moments. The key is to remain open to the possibilities. It may not feel like it in the moment, but your greatest pain can often become your greatest gift to others.

Consider this: What could you build if setbacks were new beginnings, not endings? What meaning could you create from life’s most challenging moments?

Let’s build dreams together, one story at a time.