We are all familiar with the teaching that the word “Elul” – the name of the Hebrew month devoted to repentance in preparation for the High Holidays – is an acrostic representing the verse, “Ani ledodi vedodi li – I am for my Beloved, and my Beloved is for me” (Shir Hashirim 6:3).  This allusion points to the notion that acknowledging Gd’s great love for us is crucial for the teshuvah experience.

This idea comes into sharper focus when we considered another – far less known – allusion to Elul in the Bible.

Consolation Before Repentance

Each morning, in the final section of the shaharit service, we recite a series of verses that begins with a verse from the Book of Yeshayahu (59:20): “Uva leTzion goel, ulshaveh fesha beYaakov – And the redeemer shall come to Zion, and to those in Jacob who have repented from sin.”  The word goel ends with the letters alef and lamed, and the next word – ulshaveh – begins with the letters vav and lamed.  These four letters, of course, spell the word “Elul.”

What is the special significance of this allusion?  Is this verse associated with Elul simply because it mentions repentance – “Ulshaveh fesha” – or is there a more specific point of connection?

To answer this question, let us look at the sequence of the haftarot read on the Shabbatot during the summer and early autumn.

During the period of the Three Weeks, which we spend reflecting upon the destruction of Jerusalem, we read a series of haftarot prophesying the calamity.  On the first two Shabbatot, we read prophecies from the Book of Yirmiyahu, and on third Shabbat, the Shabbat immediately preceding Tishah B’Av, we read the famous first chapter of Yeshayahu (“Hazon Yeshayahu ben Amotz…”).  Then, on the seven Shabbatot that follow Tishah B’Av, we read haftarot of nehamah – consolation.  These are seven beautiful, uplifting prophecies from the Book of Yeshayahu that speak of Gd’s eternal and unconditional love for the Jewish Nation, and His promise to ultimately end our sorrow and bring our final redemption.

Then, on the two Shabbatot after these seven weeks, as we begin the new year, we read two haftarot devoted to the theme of teshuvah, prophecies exhorting us to repent and to return to the service of the Almighty.

Surprisingly, the Rabbis who instituted this sequence determined that we should first focus on the theme of comfort and redemption before focusing on teshuvah.  We would have expected that after the period of mourning and grief, we should be immediately urged to do teshuvah, to work to improve so we are worthy of redemption.  But instead, we are first repeatedly reminded of Gd’s promise of redemption before we hear the call to repent and make ourselves deserving of it.

The reason for this is that we need Gd’s encouragement and reassurance to motivate us to repent.

For thousands of years, we’ve been despised, ridiculed and targeted.  We’ve been accused – and are still accused – of all kinds of horrible wrongs.  We have been told that we cannot possibly be Gd’s “chosen people,” and that even if we had been chosen in the past, we forfeited this status through our misconduct, and we are now His rejected people.  We have always been a tiny minority viewed with suspicion and disdain – and this is increasing, alarmingly, in our time.

At a certain point, Jews might begin asking themselves if perhaps there is some truth to all this.  They might consider yielding to this pressure, and thinking that perhaps Gd truly did reject us, perhaps the rest of the world is right and we’re wrong, perhaps all the tragedies and persecution that we’ve suffered prove that Gd has forsaken us, that our nation has no future, that it is time to move on and forget about Gd and His Torah.

We would likely have entertained such thoughts – if not for the beautiful, stirring words of our prophets that we read each and every year during the weeks after Tishah B’Av.  After reflecting on the fall of Jerusalem and the numerous catastrophes that have befallen our nation ever since, we are immediately reminded of Gd’s unconditional love for us, and reassured that a glorious future awaits us.  The prophecies we read during these weeks emphasize that Hashem has not abandoned us, He has not rejected us, and He will redeem us.  This message is necessary to motivate us to repent and do what we can to be worthy of redemption.

This idea may help us explain the verse “Uva leTzion goel…” and its connection to the month of Elul.

This verse begins with the promise of redemption – “Uva leTzion goel” – and then continues with the theme of repentance – “ulshaveh fesha beYaakov.”  Once we are assured of the future redemption, after we receive Gd’s promise that He has not rejected us, we have the motivation to move forward and to put in the work needed to make ourselves worthy of redemption.

The word “Elul” is embedded in this verse for the same reason it is embedded in the verse “Ani ledodi vedodi li” – because this month is about reminding us of Gd’s unconditional love for our nation.  In order to be driven to repent, we need a reminder not to believe to what the antisemites say about us.  We need a reminder that we are unconditionally loved by Gd, that we are a special nation, that our many imperfections do not define us and do not break our everlasting bond with the Almighty.  During the month of Elul, we prepare for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur by reminding ourselves of Hashem’s love for us, by reminding ourselves that “Uva leTzion goel,” that He is still committed to us, that He cherishes us and wants us to improve.  In fact, on the Shabbatot during Elul, we are still reading the haftarot of consolation – because this is the crucial first step to teshuvah: realizing that Hashem still loves us is prepared to bring our redemption.

The Redemption Unfolding Before Our Eyes

In our times, this love can be easily seen – because we are, very clearly, already deep into the redemption process.

Although this has not received much publicity, the Jewish Nation has recently reached a major milestone, a historic tipping point.  For the first time since the end of the First Commonwealth, there are more Jews living in Eretz Yisrael than throughout the rest of the world. 

For millennia, Jews read the promises in the Torah and the Prophets about kibutz galuyot – the ingathering of the Jewish exiles – and wondered how this could possibly happen.  How could Jews from across the globe, dispersed among so many different countries, and in places so far from Israel, all return there?  But this is, in fact, happening, right before our eyes.  The Prophets foresaw the Land of Israel lying barren and then suddenly coming to life with the return of its people – and this is happening.  For example, on the second day of Rosh Hashanah we will read Yirmiyahu’s prophecy (31:4) – delivered before the destruction of the First Temple – about how vineyards will again be planted in Shomron (Samaria).  Sure enough, today you can visit several successful wineries in Shomron that grow grapes and produce award-winning wine.  Prophecies that our ancestors believed were true when they seemed impossible are being fulfilled right before our eyes.

We are witnessing the process of “Uba leTzion goel” – and we must therefore respond with “ulshaveh fesha beYaakov,” with greater efforts to improve.  The more Hashem shows us His eternal love for us, the greater the responsibility we have to show our love and dedication to Him.  Now that we see with our very eyes the fulfillment of the prophecies of redemption, it behooves us to invest in teshuvah, in the process of spiritual growth.

A Time for Giving

We conclude with one final allusion to Elul in the Tanach.

Toward the end of Megilat Ester, the Megillah tells of how Purim was established as a day of festivity, and a day for “mishloah manot ish lere’ehu umatanot la’evyonim” – sending food packages to one another, and giving gifts to the poor (9:22).  The first letters of the final four words of this verse (“ish lere’ehu umatanot la’evyonim”) spell the word “Elul.”

Of course, Purim is celebrated in Adar, many months before Elul.  But Elul is alluded to in this verse – which speaks of the mitzvot of giving that apply on Purim – because generous giving is a crucial part of the Elul experience.  We show our commitment to teshuvah and our desire for closeness with Hashem through sacrifice – by giving of our time, of our energy, and, yes, of our money, to important causes.

This includes giving to those on the “front lines” of the process of “ulshaveh fesha beYaakov,” those who devote their lives to outreach and to Jewish education, to bring Jewish children and adults closer to observance.  They are leading the effort to accelerate the process of redemption, and they deserve our full support.

A verse in the Book of Daniel (12:3) says that matzdikeh harabim – those who bring merit to the public – are comparable to the stars.  The Gemara (Baba Batra 8b) explains that this refers to the schoolteachers, those who invest a great deal of time and effort to educate Jewish children so they become knowledgeable, committed Jews.  It has been suggested that schoolteachers are compared to the stars because they are often undervalued.  A star appears in the sky as a tiny dot, but it is actually enormous, several times larger than our planet.  Likewise, too many people view educators as “small” and unimportant – when in truth they are doing the most vital work of all, teaching our children.  They deserve our recognition and appreciation – and, most of all, a respectable income.  People doing the most important work should not be earning the lowest salaries.

As part of our teshuvah efforts, let us together resolve to give more to those who are leading our nation’s spiritual growth, and leading the struggle against the pervasive negative influences to which our youngsters are exposed.  Let us do what we can to embolden the matzdikeh harabim of our time, so they can succeed in their work to bring the Jewish People forward and make us worthy of our final redemption, amen.

What every host, parent, and guest should know before the first splash

Frieda Schweky

Every summer, the community’s center of gravity shifts. Families pack up from Brooklyn and head to the Jersey Shore. Backyards with pools become the backdrop for nearly everything – playdates, birthday parties, engagement parties, casual weeknight hangouts, and everything in between. With that shift comes a lot more time spent in and around water. Before the season gets underway, it’s worth talking seriously about pool safety.

Drowning Incidents

According to the Consumer Product Safety Commission, an average of roughly 370 children under age 15 die in pool or spa-related drownings every year in the United States, and thousands more are treated in emergency rooms for nonfatal drowning injuries. The overwhelming majority of these incidents involve children younger than five, and most happen not at public pools with lifeguards, but at private, residential pools – often during ordinary, unplanned moments rather than scheduled swim time.

Research shows that most child drowning victims were out of sight for five minutes or less before they were found, and the large majority were not even expected to be near water at the time. Drowning is also silent. Unlike what is often shown in movies, a child in trouble in the water typically can’t call out or splash for help – their body is using whatever energy it has just trying to keep its airway above the surface. That means a drowning can happen within arm’s reach of a group of adults, without anyone noticing until it’s too late.

Most pool drownings happen during the summer months, and during the day. The hours between 12pm and 6pm see the most incidents – exactly the time when backyards tend to be busiest. Weekends and holidays see a noticeable spike as well, driven by the simple fact that more people, more children, and more distractions are gathered in one place at the same time. And having adults present is not the same as having a designated, undistracted watcher. Data from Safe Kids Worldwide has found that the vast majority of children who drowned had an adult somewhere nearby at the time. Presence alone does not prevent tragedy – active attention does.

For a community that spends a concentrated stretch of summer clustered around pools – often including multiple households, multiple ages, and multiple gatherings a week – these numbers are not abstract. They are a call to build safety habits into the rhythm of the season, the same way sunscreen and pool floats already are.

Layers of Protection

Pool safety organizations generally recommend thinking in terms of layers, since no single precaution is foolproof on its own.

Barriers:  A four-sided fence with a self-closing, self-latching gate – separate from the house itself – is one of the most effective tools available. Research has found that homes with a properly installed four-sided isolation fence see dramatically fewer drownings than homes with no fence or a fence that uses the house as one of its sides. Pool covers and gate or door alarms add additional protection, particularly for households with young children or frequent young visitors.

Supervision: Assign a “water watcher” any time children are in or near the pool – one adult whose only job, for a set period, is watching the water. No phone, no conversation, no drink refills. Because supervision fatigue is real, especially at longer gatherings, rotate the role every 15 to 20 minutes rather than assuming one person can hold focus for hours.

Equipment: Keep life jackets, a shepherd’s hook, a throw rope or rescue tube, and a stocked first aid kit within easy reach of the pool – not in a garage or shed. These tools are only useful if they can be grabbed in seconds.

Water Competency: Swim lessons remain one of the most effective long-term investments in a child’s safety. Even strong swimmers benefit from ongoing lessons, since panic, exhaustion, or a sudden injury can affect anyone in the water.

Emergency Preparedness: Know CPR. Keep a charged phone at poolside. And post a sign near the pool with the direct emergency number for Hatzalah of the Jersey Shore – (732) 531-9988 (or the local Hatzalah in your area) – along with the pool’s exact address. In an emergency, seconds spent searching for a phone number or fumbling to describe a location are seconds that matter. A visible, permanent sign with the house number is a simple step every pool-owning household in the community can take before the season starts.

Additional Precautions

Beyond the core layers of protection, a handful of smaller habits go a long way.

Diving and Depth Awareness – Guests, especially teenagers, should know exactly how deep a pool is before jumping or diving in. Head and spinal injuries from diving into shallow water are entirely preventable with a quick check beforehand and clear signage marking depth.

Drains and Entrapment –  Make sure pool drains have compliant, up-to-date covers, and teach children to stay away from drains, pipes, and other openings where suction can trap hair, swimsuits, or limbs. If a drain cover looks cracked, loose, or missing, the pool should not be used until the drain cover is fixed.

Weather – Clear the pool at the first sign of thunder or lightning, and do not let anyone back in until at least 30 minutes after the last rumble. Water conducts electricity, and an approaching storm is not worth waiting out poolside.

Alcohol –  Adults supervising children or swimming themselves should be mindful that alcohol slows reaction time and impairs judgment in the water just as it does behind the wheel. If drinks are part of a gathering, it is worth keeping the water watcher role assigned to someone who is not drinking.

Inflatables and Toys – Pool floats, noodles, and inflatable toys are fun, but they are not safety devices and should not be treated as substitutes for a life jacket or active supervision, especially for children who are not yet strong swimmers.

Non-Swimming Teens and Adults – It’s easy to assume that anyone old enough to be at a teen or adult gathering can swim well enough to handle themselves in the water, but swimming ability varies widely at every age. A quick, casual check of who’s comfortable in deep water – without singling anyone out – can prevent an awkward situation from becoming a dangerous one.

Nighttime Swimming –  Pools that are lit and used after dark should have working lighting both in and around the water. Depth, obstacles, and distressed swimmers are all harder to spot at night, so evening gatherings call for extra vigilance.

Proper Supervision

A backyard with three children and two attentive parents is a very different environment than a backyard hosting forty guests for a simha. It helps to think about supervision differently depending on the size of the gathering.

Small, Family-Style Gatherings (under 10 people):  It is tempting to assume that with so few people around, someone is always watching kids in the pool. In practice, this is often the type of situation when supervision lapses happen, because everyone assumes someone else has it covered. Designate the water watcher explicitly, out loud, so there is no ambiguity.

Mid-Sized Gatherings (10–30 people). This is often the highest-risk category, since there are enough children in the water to make tracking difficult, but not necessarily enough structure to assign clear roles. Consider designating two water watchers on rotating shifts, and do a headcount of children in and around the pool every 15 minutes or so.

Large Events (30+ people)  At this scale, informal supervision breaks down almost entirely. Hosts should consider hiring a certified lifeguard for the duration of pool access, closing the pool to swimming during parts of the event when supervision cannot be guaranteed, or roping off pool access if it is not the focus of the gathering. A closed or covered pool during a large event removes the risk altogether without anyone needing to actively monitor it.

A Season Worth Protecting

The Jersey Shore summer is one of the best parts of the community calendar – a season built around family, connection, and a lot of pool time. None of these precautions are meant to dampen that. They are meant to make sure every one of these summers ends the way it is supposed to: with good memories, not close calls.

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Sources: U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) drowning and injury reports; CDC WISQARS data; Thompson & Rivara, New England Journal of Medicine, on pool fence effectiveness; S.P.L.A.S.H. (Safety Pool Layered Awareness for a Safer Home), a local water safety organization; Hatzalah of the Jersey Shore.

Linda Sadacka

Political movements rarely emerge overnight. Long before they produce headline victories, they recruit volunteers, organize neighborhoods, contest obscure local races, and patiently build influence where few people are paying attention. By the time the broader public notices, much of the work has already been done.

For many New Yorkers, the June 23, 2026 Democratic primaries were one of those moments.

The headlines the following morning focused on the winners and losers. Brad Lander defeated Congressman Dan Goldman. Claire Valdez prevailed in Brooklyn. Darializa Avila Chevalier unseated five-term Congressman Adriano Espaillat. Viewed individually, each race reflected the political character of its district.

Taken together, however, they revealed something far more consequential. Every congressional candidate endorsed by Mayor Zohran Mamdani emerged victorious, signaling that the coalition surrounding him had matured into one of the most disciplined and influential forces within New York Democratic politics.

For some New Yorkers, the results represented the rise of a new progressive coalition. For others, they reflected a profound shift in the direction of the Democratic Party itself.

How Did This Happen?

For New York’s Jewish community, however, the election prompted a different question altogether.

How did this happen?

The answer is not found in one charismatic candidate or one successful campaign. Nor is it the product of a single election cycle. How this happened is the result of years of disciplined organization.

One of the defining characteristics of successful political movements is that they understand something many voters do not: political power is rarely won from the top down. It is built from the ground up.

While many New Yorkers focus on presidential elections or high-profile mayoral races, highly organized activists devote equal attention to the contests most people ignore – local party organizations, judicial races, Democratic clubs, neighborhood campaigns, and the civic institutions where future political leaders are first identified and developed. Those elections rarely generate headlines, yet they determine who builds influence long before the broader public realizes the political landscape has shifted.

Grassroots Strategy

That strategy has been central to the Democratic Socialists of America’s growth over the past decade. Rather than focusing exclusively on national politics, the movement invested heavily in grassroots neighborhood organizing, volunteer recruitment, labor alliances, tenant organizations, and candidate development. Supporters see those efforts as grassroots democracy functioning exactly as intended: citizens organizing around shared priorities and participating consistently in civic life. Critics view them as a long-term effort to reshape the Democratic Party from within, patiently building influence one local victory at a time.

Regardless of one’s political perspective, one conclusion is difficult to dispute. The strategy has produced results. The June primaries did not create this movement. They revealed how much it had already grown.

That reality explains why these elections cannot simply be understood as another chapter in the familiar contest between Republicans and Democrats. Increasingly, some of the strongest warnings about the Democratic Party’s future have come not from Republicans, but from prominent Democrats themselves.

Veteran Democratic strategist James Carville has emerged as one of the party’s sharpest critics of its Democratic Socialist wing. He is a veteran political consultant, author, and television pundit who has strategized for numerous Democratic candidates running for public office. Carville has argued that candidates aligned with that movement no longer reflect the Democratic Party he spent decades helping to build, pointing to positions he believes fall well outside its traditional mainstream. As Carville put it, “That’s just not who I think the Democratic Party is.”

His concerns extend beyond domestic policy. Carville, a non-Jew, has repeatedly distinguished between legitimate criticism of Israeli government policy and questioning the legitimacy of the State of Israel itself.

“Attack the government of Israel all you want to,” he said. “I don’t like it. I can’t stand it. But I like the State of Israel. You can’t conflate the regime with the people.”

At the same time, he has been unequivocal in rejecting candidates who deny Israel’s right to exist. “I don’t want to be in a political party that denies the right of the State of Israel to exist.”

An Unfolding Dabate

Those remarks matter not because they come from a conservative commentator, but because they come from one of the Democratic Party’s best-known strategists. They underscore that the debate unfolding in New York is no longer simply between Democrats and Republicans. Increasingly, it is an internal struggle over the Democratic Party’s identity and future direction.

For New York’s Jewish community, however, those political debates intersect with concerns that are far more personal.

Since the October 7 Hamas massacre, anti-Semitism has risen dramatically across the United States. New York has witnessed anti-Israel demonstrations, harassment on college campuses, and increasingly heated rhetoric surrounding Zionism.

Many Jewish organizations have expressed concern that language once directed primarily at Israeli government policy has expanded to encompass Zionists more broadly, creating an environment in which many Jews feel that support for Israel has itself become grounds for public hostility.

Public Safety and Political Apathy

At the same time, many New Yorkers have grown increasingly concerned about public safety, criminal justice, policing, and quality of life. Several candidates aligned with the Democratic Socialists of America have advocated significant changes to policing and criminal justice. Supporters argue those reforms seek to create a fairer and more equitable system. Critics fear they could weaken deterrence and reduce accountability at a moment when many residents already feel less secure.

Whether one agrees with either perspective is almost secondary. The larger reality is that a political movement with a distinct vision for New York has demonstrated an impressive ability to translate disciplined organization into electoral success.

Perhaps nowhere was that lesson clearer than in the numbers themselves. In New York’s Tenth Congressional District, fewer than 50,000 Democrats cast ballots in the primary. Brad Lander received just over 30,900 votes, while Congressman Dan Goldman received approximately 17,300. In a district representing hundreds of thousands of residents, the political direction of the community was effectively determined by a relatively small electorate.

Summertime and Political Reality

Those figures illustrate an important political reality. Elections are not always won by persuading the greatest number of people. More often, they are won by identifying supporters, organizing them, and ensuring they actually vote. The June primaries demonstrated that disciplined organization can outweigh complacency, even in one of the nation’s largest cities.

For New York’s Jewish community, that lesson carries particular significance. New York’s election reforms moved the primary calendar to June, a change supporters argued would modernize elections, improve administration, and expand participation through measures such as early voting. Whatever the intent behind those reforms, the practical effect has been that many primaries now take place just as much of the Orthodox community begins leaving the city for the summer.

By late June, families have already departed for Deal, the Catskills, the Hamptons, or elsewhere. Summer schedules replace political ones. Meanwhile, organized political movements have been preparing for these elections for months, educating their supporters about early voting, absentee ballots, and the importance of primary turnout.

That contrast is difficult to ignore. It is not an excuse. It is a lesson. For generations, many voters treated the Democratic primary as little more than a preliminary contest. The election that mattered, they assumed, would come in November. That assumption no longer reflects political reality in much of New York.

In district after district, Democratic registration so heavily outweighs Republican registration that the primary has effectively become the decisive election. By the time voters return to the polls in November, many of the most consequential races have already been decided. That reality demands a corresponding change in the way our community thinks about civic participation.

Primary Elections Determine Political Direction

Voting in a Democratic primary is no longer simply an exercise reserved for political enthusiasts. In many parts of New York, it has become the moment when the city’s political direction is determined.

The June primaries were not an isolated example. They reflected the same political dynamics that helped propel Mayor Zohran Mamdani to victory. His success did not emerge suddenly. It was built over years of organization, coalition building, and consistent participation in the contests that many occasional voters overlooked.

The lesson is larger than any individual candidate. Communities that understand where political influence is built are far more likely to shape the future than communities that engage only after the most consequential decisions have already been made.

For New York’s Jewish community, that may be the single most important political lesson to emerge from the June 2026 primaries. Understanding how this happened, however, is only the first step.

The more difficult question is what these political changes may mean for the future of New York and for the Jewish community that has long called it home.

Where Do We Go From Here?

If the June primaries revealed anything, it is that political landscapes can change long before most people recognize that they have changed at all.

Understanding how we arrived at this moment is important. Understanding where we go from here is even more so. For many in New York’s Jewish community, that conversation has already begun.

It is taking place around Shabbat tables, after minyan, at weddings, in school parking lots, and over family dinners. Questions that would have seemed almost unimaginable only a few years ago are now being asked with increasing frequency.

Do We Still Have a Future in New York?

Some families have already left for Florida. Others are exploring New Jersey. Some are taking steps to make Aliyah. Many have chosen to remain, while quietly wondering whether the city they love is changing into something fundamentally different.

No one can answer that question with certainty. What can be said with confidence is that New York is changing. Perhaps the greatest danger, however, is not the change itself. It is our remarkable ability to become accustomed to it.

There is an old metaphor about a frog placed in gradually warming water. Whether or not the story is scientifically accurate is beside the point. Its lesson has endured because it reflects something profoundly human. When change occurs gradually, each individual step appears manageable. Only when we look back do we realize how dramatically the landscape has shifted.

Many New Yorkers would argue that they are already experiencing that phenomenon. Riding the subway has become a source of anxiety for many commuters. Encounters with homelessness and severe mental illness have become increasingly common in neighborhoods where they were once rare. High-profile crimes involving repeat offenders have intensified debates over bail reform, prosecution, and accountability. Security outside synagogues and yeshivot, which was once exceptional, has become routine. On many college campuses, Jewish students now think carefully before expressing support for Israel publicly. None of these developments occurred overnight.

New York Is Not the Same

Nor can they all be attributed to one election, one policy, or one political movement. Taken together, however, they have created the unmistakable sense that the New York many people experience today is not the New York they remember from even a decade ago. The June primaries did not create those concerns. They crystallized them. They forced many New Yorkers to confront a question they had quietly been avoiding.

If this is where New York is headed, what does that mean for our future? It was several years ago, as I watched many of these changes beginning to emerge, that I found myself wrestling with that same question. Should Jewish families consider leaving New York?

One Answer: Strengthen Ourselves

Seeking Torah guidance, I received an answer from my rabbi that has remained with me ever since. The message was simple. The yetzer hara exists everywhere.

A person can move to Miami, New Jersey, Israel, or anywhere else. But if he is not engaged in the lifelong struggle against his own evil inclination, he has not solved the real problem. Conversely, a Jew who strengthens his Torah, his mitzvot, and his relationship with Hashem carries that spiritual protection wherever Hashem places him.

Because, while elections determine who governs a city, they have never determined the destiny of the Jewish people.

Torah Perspective

Ignoring politics is not a Torah response. Neither is becoming consumed by it. That balance was beautifully articulated by Rabbi Joey Haber when I asked him how Torah views elections whose outcomes may visibly affect our lives. He replied:

“The Torah always teaches us two things:  1) We do our best. 2) Hashem is in control.  So, when there is an election that visibly can affect our lives, our job is to do step one and leave the rest up to Hashem.

Which means we have a responsibility to vote – not with hysteria, just with the attitude of, ‘I’m doing what I need to do.’”

Perhaps that is the enduring lesson of the June 2026 primaries.

Politics has never been the foundation of Jewish survival. Empires have risen and fallen. Governments have come and gone. Political movements have reshaped nations throughout history. Yet, the Jewish people have endured because our ultimate security has never depended solely on political power. It has depended upon our relationship with Hashem, our commitment to Torah, and our willingness to strengthen ourselves even as the world around us changes.

What “Not in My Backyard” Really Means

Like most people, I thought I knew exactly what “Not in My Backyard” meant.

The phrase has become part of the American vocabulary. We hear it whenever a new apartment complex is proposed, a warehouse is planned, or a neighborhood pushes back against development. Most of us assume it refers to people who support an idea, so long as it isn’t built next door. According to Wikipedia, “Not in My Backyard,” or NIMBY, describes the opposition by residents to proposed real estate and infrastructure developments in their local area, as well as support for strict land regulations. The connotation is that such residents are only opposing the development because it is close to them and they would tolerate or support ii if it were built farther away.  

When I was asked to explore the growing conversation surrounding NIMBY in our own community, I imagined I would spend my time reading planning-board minutes, researching zoning disputes, and interviewing attorneys. Instead, I found myself doing something completely different.

The Million Dollar Question

Everywhere I went, I started asking people a question.

If I stopped for a coffee, I’d ask the barista before I left. If I was paying for groceries, I’d ask the cashier while she rang up my order. If I was having lunch, I’d ask the waitress before she brought the check.

“When you hear the phrase ‘Not in My Backyard,’ what comes to mind?”

I wasn’t looking for statistics or carefully thought-out opinions. I wanted people’s first reaction. Sometimes our first instinct reveals more than the answer we give after we’ve had time to think about it.

At first, nothing seemed unusual.

Outside Ocean Township, the answers were remarkably consistent. Before I could even explain what I meant, several people assumed I was talking about the large summer crowds that descend on the Jersey Shore. People spoke about traffic, public safety, beach disturbances, and the annual disruption that accompanies the season. To them, “Not in My Backyard” had nothing to do with housing or neighborhood growth. It was about protecting the quality of life they already had.

Neighborhoods Outside Ocean Township

Then I crossed into the neighborhoods surrounding Ocean Township and continued asking the same question.

The difference was immediate. Before I could even explain what I meant, several people assumed I was referring to the Jewish community.

I remember thinking, “That’s interesting.” The question hadn’t changed. I was asking it the same way I had been asking it all week. Yet, somehow the answer had changed completely.

As I continued stopping for coffee, running errands, and talking to people, the pattern kept repeating itself. Different stores. Different people. Different conversations. The same assumption.

By then, I had stopped thinking about zoning.

A Conversation About People

I wanted to understand why a phrase that most Americans associate with development had become, in these neighborhoods, a conversation about people.

As those conversations unfolded, I noticed something else. Almost no one began by talking about planning boards or lawsuits. They talked about traffic. Parking. Larger homes. Mature trees disappearing. Streets that no longer felt quite the way people remembered them.

But if I stayed in the conversation long enough, those subjects almost always gave way to something deeper.

One longtime resident began by describing the physical changes she had watched over the years. She spoke about modest homes being replaced by substantially larger ones and she questioned whether the pace of redevelopment was healthy for the neighborhood.

Yet, the longer we spoke, the less she talked about houses and the more she talked about people. She missed recognizing the neighbors on her block. She missed stopping to chat on the sidewalk. She missed the sense of familiarity that had once made the neighborhood feel like home.

Relationships Are the Issue

Whether every memory was perfectly accurate wasn’t really the point. What struck me was that, beneath the discussion about development, she was really talking about relationships.

Not everyone I spoke with viewed the changes through that lens.

One woman smiled when I asked the question because, in her view, the conversation surrounding the community had become far more negative than the reality she experienced every day. She told me the new families had enriched the neighborhood. Instead of seeing strangers, she saw people she had come to know and appreciate. Her world had become larger, not smaller, simply because different people had moved in.

That conversation forced me to pause. Until then, I had been listening primarily to what people believed they had lost. Now I was hearing someone describe what she believed she had gained. The neighborhood had not changed for one person and remained the same for another. The very same streets had produced two entirely different experiences, depending on where someone happened to stand.

Non-Jews’ Responses

As I continued asking the question, another observation emerged that I had not anticipated. Several non-Jewish residents, none of whom knew one another, volunteered that their concerns were not about Judaism itself. In fact, many were careful to make that distinction before saying anything else. What they struggled to explain was something less tangible. They described newer neighbors as friendly but insular, people who tended to socialize within their own circles rather than with the broader neighborhood.

On the flip side, the Jewish perspective was never a mystery to me. I have lived it.

Jews and Continuity

I know why young families search for homes within walking distance of a synagogue. I understand why access to Jewish schools, kosher food, and community institutions is not a luxury but a necessity. As communities grow and children marry, they naturally look for homes close enough to remain part of the lives they have built. What many outsiders experience as expansion, Jewish families often experience as continuity, a way to remain connected to their faith, their families, and their community.

That reality is neither unusual nor unique. Throughout history, Jewish communities have grown this way, gradually extending beyond their original boundaries as each new generation searched for a place to call home.

Neighborhood Growth and Traffic

I also asked whether there were aspects of the neighborhood’s growth that concerned them. I expected to hear about rising home prices or the difficulty of finding housing. Instead, the answer I heard most often was traffic.

Congested roads, crowded intersections, and longer drives during peak hours frustrated them just as much as everyone else. That surprised me because it reminded me that not every concern falls neatly along communal lines. Sometimes neighbors disagree about profound issues, and sometimes they simply sit in the same traffic together.

By then, I understood why the conversation surrounding “Not in My Backyard” had become so emotionally charged. I was not listening to two sides arguing over the same set of facts. I was listening to two groups of people whose experiences of the very same place had led them to tell entirely different stories.

By that point, I had heard enough to know that I wasn’t dealing with a simple disagreement over development. The more people I spoke with, the more I realized they were not arguing about the same issue at all.

Longtime residents were describing what had changed. Jewish residents were describing what had finally become possible.

Looking at Community Through Different Lenses

Neither group was imagining things. They were simply experiencing the same community through entirely different lenses. That distinction matters because it explains why these conversations so often become emotional. When people believe they are talking about different things, they inevitably talk past one another. One side discusses traffic counts and neighborhood character. The other discusses the ability to raise children within walking distance of a synagogue, a school, and a community that makes Jewish life possible. Both conversations are sincere. They are simply answering different questions.

That realization sent me somewhere I hadn’t expected to go. Until then, everything I had gathered had come from conversations over coffee counters, grocery checkouts, and restaurant tables. Now I wanted to understand how those same tensions appeared when they left everyday conversation and entered the public record.

It did not take long to find the answer.

Entering the Public Record

Ocean Township has spent years wrestling with exactly these questions. One of the most prominent examples involved Yeshiva Gedola Na’os Yaakov on Logan Road. Residents voiced concerns about traffic, neighborhood character, safety, and the overall scale of the proposed project. The yeshiva argued that denying their application imposed an unlawful burden on its ability to exercise its religion.

What began as a local land use dispute ultimately became years of federal litigation under the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act, better known as RLUIPA.

A similar conflict unfolded in nearby Allenhurst, where a Sephardic congregation challenged zoning restrictions that it believed prevented it from establishing a synagogue. That case, too, ended not with a neighborhood consensus but with a legal settlement.

Reading through court filings after spending days listening to ordinary residents was an unexpected experience. The language could not have been more different.

Court opinions discuss ordinances, statutory protections, precedent, and constitutional rights. Planning boards weigh traffic studies, parking requirements, and environmental impact. Every argument is measured against legal standards.

Questions of How Neighbors Feel

Yet, none of those documents answered the questions people had been asking me. No traffic study explains why someone feels disconnected from the neighborhood they have lived in for thirty years. No zoning ordinance explains why a young Jewish family feels it has nowhere else to build an observant life.

The law can determine whether a municipality acted properly. It cannot determine whether neighbors understand one another.

And perhaps that is where this conversation has gone off course.

After weeks of conversations, dozens of unexpected interviews, and hours spent reading court filings, I walked away with a conclusion I never anticipated.

The phrase “Not in My Backyard” isn’t really about backyards. It’s about fear.

Fear

For some, it is the fear of losing a neighborhood that no longer feels familiar. For others, it is the fear of never finding a place where they can build the kind of life their faith requires. Those fears look very different, but they are fears, nonetheless.

The mistake we make is assuming that the other side’s concern must be rooted in ulterior motives. It is easier to believe someone is intolerant than to accept that they may simply be struggling with change. It is just as easy to assume newcomers are indifferent to the people around them when, in reality, they may be entirely consumed by the challenges of building a new life.

The truth, I suspect, is more complicated.

Communities are not built only with zoning approvals, construction permits, or planning board resolutions. They are built through thousands of ordinary interactions that never appear in a court record or a newspaper headline. They are built when neighbors learn one another’s names, when children play together, when conversations replace assumptions, and when familiarity slowly replaces suspicion.

What Makes a Community Neighborhood

As Jews, we have always understood the importance of building communities. We build synagogues, schools, mikvaot, and kosher markets because Jewish life depends on them. But perhaps we sometimes forget that the strongest communities are not held together by buildings alone. They are held together by relationships.

If there was one lesson this assignment taught me, it is that the most important conversations rarely happen inside a courtroom or at a planning board meeting. They happen over a cup of coffee, at the checkout counter, or between two neighbors who decide to stop and talk instead of simply walking past one another.

I began this assignment believing I was writing about zoning. I finished it believing I was writing about something far more important.

A neighborhood is not defined by the size of its homes, the width of its streets, or even the outcome of its legal battles. In the end, a neighborhood is defined by whether the people who share it choose to become neighbors.

Linda Argalgi Sadacka is a writer, speaker, and strategist whose work focuses on leadership, culture, faith, and community engagement. Through her writing, advocacy, and The Silent Revolution podcast, she reaches audiences seeking thoughtful conversations on public discourse and Jewish life.

Rabbi Yehuda Finchas

David sat at his father’s bedside in the ICU. Two weeks had passed since his catastrophic stroke. He had not regained consciousness, and the doctors saw no realistic path to recovery. David’s brother, his voice breaking, said quietly, “It is time to let him go comfortably. He would not have wanted this.” The family turned to me and asked, “Rabbi, can we ask the hospital to switch off the ventilator? What does halacha say?”

In Masechet Semachot (1:3–4), Chazal teach: “One may not move a dying person… until he dies… One who touches or moves the gosses is considered as one who spills blood.” Rabbi Meir likens the dying person to a flickering flame: “Just as touching a fading flame can extinguish it, so too, touching the dying person can shorten their life.”

Based on this principle, Hacham Ovadia Yosef, zt”l, rules that one cannot actively hasten the death of a person even if they are dying (Hazon Ovadia, Aveilut, vol. 1, p. 81). Likewise, Hacham Yitzhak Yosef(Yalkut Yosef, Shabbat, p. 276) rules explicitly that it is forbidden to disconnect a ventilator from a patient who depends on it.

Depriving a Person of Respiration as an Act of Killing

The Rambam’s analysis helps explain the basis of this ruling. In Hilchot Shabbat (11:1), he rules that one who strangles an animal is liable as a tolada (a derivative) of the prohibition against slaughtering. He extends this principle even to removing a fish from water.  Liability arises already when the area between its fins dries such that it “can no longer live.”

The Rambam (Hilchot Rotzeach 3:9) also considers one liable for murder by covering a person’s mouth and nose, confining them in a room and filling it with smoke, or enclosing them and depriving them of breathable air. Although these cases appear very different, they all share the same underlying feature. In none of them does the perpetrator necessarily inflict a fatal wound. Rather, he deliberately interrupts the victim’s ability to breathe by removing the conditions necessary for continued respiration.

A Contemporary Parallel

The fish is not injured by a knife or a blow; rather, it dies because it has been removed from the environment that enables respiration. A modern parallel may be found in a deep-sea diver breathing through an external air supply. If another person were to deliberately sever that air supply, one would not describe the diver’s death as merely the consequence of being underwater. Rather, that deliberate act would ordinarily be regarded as the cause of death.

The Rambam’s example of smoke suggests a similar comparison. Imagine a victim rescued from a smoke-filled building who survives only because firefighters provide oxygen through a mask. Disconnecting the oxygen supply would cause that person’s death. The smoke explains why assisted respiration became necessary; the deliberate disconnection of the oxygen supply explains why the victim died at that moment.

Mechanical Ventilation

Although the Rambam was not discussing modern ventilators in intensive care medicine, his underlying principle extends to situations in which respiration depends upon an external source. A ventilator does not independently create life; rather, it provides the patient’s present means of respiration by enabling ventilation and oxygenation to continue when the body can no longer perform those functions on its own. Disconnecting a ventilator from a patient who remains dependent upon it interrupts that respiratory support and predictably results in hypoxia and death.

The patient’s illness explains why assisted ventilation became necessary, but the deliberate withdrawal of that respiratory support explains why the patient died.

Conclusion

Returning to David and his family: halacha does not permit them to direct the hospital to switch off the ventilator if doing so will cause death. Their love, and their genuine desire to end his suffering, does not transform a prohibited act into a permitted one. At the same time, every effort should be taken to relieve pain and suffering through appropriate care.

As with all complex end-of-life questions, one must seek guidance from a competent halachic authority. Organizations such as the Sephardic Division of Chayim Aruchim, launched specifically to address our community’s needs, are dedicated to offering sensitive, informed halachic support during these delicate and difficult moments.

Rabbi Yehuda Finchas is a worldwide expert, lecturer, and author on Medical Halacha. He heads the Torat Habayit Medical Halacha Institute. He is the author of Brain Death in Halacha and the Tower of Babel Syndrome and his latest book is Nutrition and Hydration in Halacha. To contact Rabbi Finchas, email rabbi@torathabayit.com.

Sam J. Sutton

Eighteen years after its first pitch, M&S Softball has entered a new era.

For nearly two decades, the league has been one of the community’s signature summer traditions, bringing together generations of players, families, and fans. But Year 18 feels different. The league’s theme this season, “The Future Is Now,” isn’t just a slogan, it’s the story of the season.

A wave of young talent has reshaped the league, bringing speed, athleticism, and fresh energy to M&S Park. At the same time, longtime veterans have answered the challenge, proving they still belong among the league’s elite. The result has been one of the deepest and most competitive seasons in M&S history.

From Monday through Thursday, M&S Park has become a nightly destination, with fans lining the fences while thousands more follow the action through live broadcasts and highlight packages.

The Leaders

Leading the charge are the Summer Knight Kings, the league’s lone undefeated team. At 6-0, they’ve established themselves as the early championship favorite behind a balanced roster that has consistently delivered in every phase of the game. Abo Shama has anchored the offense, while Ralph Hanan has emerged as one of the league’s top pitchers, giving the Kings the combination every contender is searching for.

Close behind is Icey Hot, whose offense has been one of the league’s most explosive. Moshe Menshikov has put together an MVP-caliber first half, leading M&S in hits, runs scored, triples, and slugging percentage while ranking among the league leaders in nearly every offensive category. On the mound, Marc Sayegh has been equally dominant, leading the league in victories as Icey Hot continues to chase the top spot.

Close Behind

The race behind the leaders has been just as compelling.

After opening the season 0-3, Murderers Row refused to fold, battling back into the playoff picture behind the steady production of Eric Cytryn, Jimmy Malakh, and Michael Salomon. Chronicles Unhinged burst onto the scene with one of the league’s strongest starts and continues to feature one of M&S’s deepest lineups, led by Eli Mamiye, Sol Asis, Sammy Seruya, and Richard Levy.

Despite a record that doesn’t fully reflect its talent, Downtown remains one of the league’s most dangerous teams. MD Applegrad has been among the league leaders in RBIs, doubles, and pitching victories, while Alan Jemal is developing his power stroke.

The remaining clubs continue to show just how balanced the league has become. The Party Animals have relied on the outstanding bats of Yogi Kassin and Isaac Faham, Take Two has received strong offensive production from Teddy Braha and Zvi Rishty, and One Mo Time has become one of the season’s biggest storylines after completely reshaping its roster through a series of blockbuster trades. While the wins have yet to fully follow, their new-look lineup has everyone eager to see what the second half will bring.

Individual Performances

Individual performances have been just as impressive as the team races. Yogi Kassin leads all qualified hitters with a remarkable .727 batting average. Eric Cytryn owns an incredible .760 on-base percentage, while Moshe Menshikov’s all-around offensive production has placed him squarely in the MVP conversation. On the pitching side, Marc Sayegh and Ralph Hanan have established themselves as two of the league’s premier arms, giving fans marquee matchups every week.

Kudos to the Supporters

None of this growth would be possible without the continued support of the league’s outstanding partners. Fresh Start Painting as M&S Softball’s presenting sponsor, while AJ’s Home Improvement and The Ohos continue to invest in the league’s growth and player experience. Fans unable to attend games can still catch every pitch through the league’s official live stream and the league now has a media partner, Last Call with Sutton & Simmons.

M&S’ Striking Evolution

Eighteen years in, M&S Softball continues to evolve. New stars have emerged. Veterans continue to set the standard. The level of competition has never been higher, and every week seems to produce another unforgettable moment.

The future of M&S Softball isn’t on the horizon anymore.

The Future Is Now…

From a Backyard Pastime to One of America’s Fastest-Growing Sports

If you have visited a local park, recreation center, or community gym in recent years, you have probably heard the familiar pop of a plastic ball traveling across a court. Chances are, you were hearing a game of pickleball.

Although it was invented more than 60 years ago, pickleball has become one of the fastest-growing sports in the United States. A rapidly growing number of people now play the game for exercise, competition, and social connection. Pickleball attracts players of all ages because it is easy to learn, affordable to play, and challenging enough to keep people interested for years.

A combination of tennis, badminton, and table tennis, pickleball blends strategy, quick reactions, and teamwork. Yet its rise from a simple backyard experiment to an international sport began with three friends, a badminton court, and a desire to create something the whole family could enjoy.

A Summer Idea Becomes a New Sport

Pickleball was invented during the summer of 1965 on Bainbridge Island, Washington, near Seattle. The game was created by Joel Pritchard, Bill Bell, and Barney McCallum, three friends who were looking for a fun activity that their families could play together.

According to accounts from the founders and their families, the group started with an existing badminton court but did not have all the equipment needed for a traditional badminton game. They improvised by using table tennis paddles and a lightweight perforated plastic ball. As they played, they experimented with the rules and court setup, including adjustments to the net height, eventually creating a format that better suited the new game.

What began as a casual family activity soon developed into a structured sport. The three founders continued refining the rules, adjusting the equipment, and creating a game that could be enjoyed by beginners while still offering strategic challenges for experienced players.

Building the Foundation

Early versions of the game used table tennis paddles before larger paddles were created specifically for pickleball. These larger paddles gave players better control and helped to establish the style of equipment still used today.

The perforated plastic ball also became one of pickleball’s defining features. Unlike a tennis ball, it moves at a slower pace and encourages players to focus on placement, timing, and strategy. The combination of the ball, the smaller court, and the carefully developed rules created a sport where players compete through skill and decision-making as much as athletic ability.

One of pickleball’s most recognizable features is the non-volley zone, commonly called “the kitchen.” This seven-foot area on both sides of the net prevents players from standing directly at the net and hitting every shot out of the air. The rule encourages thoughtful play and creates the quick exchanges that make pickleball exciting to watch and play.

How the Game Spread Across the Country

As friends and neighbors on Bainbridge Island learned the game, pickleball slowly began spreading to other communities. In 1972, Pickle-Ball, Inc. was formed to help manufacture equipment and establish the sport more formally.

During the 1980s and 1990s, pickleball continued growing through schools, parks, recreation departments, community centers, and retirement communities. While it was not yet widely known across the country, dedicated players helped build a strong foundation by organizing clubs, teaching new players, and introducing the game to their communities.

The sport’s growth accelerated in the early 2000s. More communities began adding pickleball courts, and many tennis facilities added pickleball lines to meet increasing demand. Its accessibility became one of its greatest strengths: players could learn the basics quickly, but improving strategy and technique provided a lifelong challenge.

The formation of the USA Pickleball Association (now USA Pickleball) in 2005 helped further organize the sport, establish official rules, and support its continued expansion.

Enjoyed by People of All Ages

Pickleball’s popularity comes from its ability to bring together people of different ages and skill levels.

The court is 20 feet wide by 44 feet long, about one-third the size of a tennis court. This smaller playing area means players do not have to cover as much ground, while still getting an excellent workout. The game can be competitive and fast-paced without requiring the same level of endurance as some other racquet sports.

The social side of pickleball is equally important. Doubles play is especially common, and many communities offer open-play sessions where players rotate partners and welcome newcomers. For many people, pickleball is not just a sport – it is a way to build friendships and stay connected.

At the same time, competitive players appreciate the depth of the game. Learning how to place shots, create spin, anticipate opponents’ moves, and work effectively with a partner can take years to master.

How the Game Is Played

Pickleball is played on a court the same size for both singles and doubles matches. The net is slightly lower than a tennis net, measuring 36 inches high at the sidelines and 34 inches in the center.

Players use solid paddles made from wood, composite materials, or lightweight modern materials. The ball is made of  durable plastic, with holes designed for consistent flight. Indoor and outdoor versions are available to suit different playing conditions.

Each point begins with an underhand serve. The ball must be struck below the player’s navel, with the paddle head below the wrist at contact. After the serve, the receiving team must allow the ball to bounce before returning it, and the serving team must also let the return bounce before playing the ball. This is known as the double-bounce rule.

After those first two bounces, players may volley the ball or allow it to bounce before returning it. The kitchen rule adds another layer of strategy, requiring players to carefully choose when to move forward and when to stay back.

From Recreation to Global Competition

Today, pickleball is played in schools, parks, gyms, clubs, and professional tournaments around the world. USA Pickleball oversees official rules, supports tournaments, and promotes the sport at all levels.

Professional pickleball has grown significantly, with elite competitions attracting skilled athletes and larger audiences. Television coverage, online streaming, and social media have helped introduce the sport to millions of new fans.

The game has also expanded internationally, with players and organizations promoting pickleball across North America, Europe, Asia, Australia, and other regions.

More than six decades after three friends created a backyard game, pickleball continues to grow because it offers something many sports struggle to provide: a welcoming experience for beginners and a rewarding challenge for experienced competitors.

Whether played casually with neighbors or at the highest levels of competition, pickleball remains true to its original spirit – a simple game designed to bring people together.

Why Is It Called Pickleball?

The name “pickleball” is one of the sport’s most interesting mysteries.

The Popular Story

Many people have heard the story that pickleball was named after Pickles, the Pritchard family dog, who supposedly chased the ball during early games.

It is an entertaining story, but most historians believe the dog was actually named after the game rather than the game being named after the dog.

The Leading Explanation

According to Joan Pritchard, Joel Pritchard’s wife, the name came from the rowing term “pickle boat.” In rowing, a pickle boat refers to a crew made up of rowers selected from different boats.

Because the new sport combined elements of several existing games – including tennis, badminton, and table tennis – she felt the name was a fitting comparison.

Although different versions of the story have been shared over the years, the pickle boat explanation is generally considered the strongest and best-supported account of how pickleball received its unusual name.