By Rabbi Hayim Asher Arking and Rabbi Ezra Ghodsi

The misvah of menorah is an extremely beloved misvah (Rambam). All misvot have a standard way of performance and an enhanced and more meticulous way. By the strict letter of the law, one can fulfill his obligation by lighting only one candle each night. Hanukah is so beloved, that it has been unanimously accepted for all to perform the misvah in a superior manner. We begin with a single candle on the first night, then add a candle each night, until ultimately kindling eight lights on the final night. We hope the following guide will enhance your performance of this beloved misvah.

Who is required to light?

Both men and women are obligated in the misvah of lighting. Although it is a time-bound commandment, which women are generally exempt from, women are obligated in this misvah as they played a significant role, through Yehudit’s actions when she killed an important Greek general.

Unlike other misvot, such as eating massah or shaking lulav, where each person is required to perform the misvah individually, any one member – man or woman over bar/bat misvah – may light the menorah on behalf of the household.

Children under the age of bar/bat misvah may light any subsequent candles after the first candle is lit by an adult, provided that they have reached the age of hinuch (i.e., they understand how to perform the misvah).

I have a child studying out of town. Is he required to light himself?

Children who are supported by their parents and view their parents’ house as their home are still considered part of the household. Even if they are temporarily not living in the house, they can fulfill their obligation with their parents’ lighting.

The question becomes more complicated if the child is in a different time zone. For example, if the child is in Israel and the parents are lighting at home in America. At the time of lighting in Israel, it is not time to light in America, and when it becomes nightfall in America it is past the time for lighting in Israel. Therefore, it is preferable for the student to light himself, and according to some opinions even with a beracha. If the child is in a later time zone, for example, their home is in New York and the child is studying in L.A., then according to all opinions, a beracha is not recited.

What should I do if I am a guest?

One may fulfill his obligation with his host. The guest should participate in the misvah by acquiring partial ownership of the oil and wicks. For close family members visiting and sleeping over, we can assume the host gives them partial ownership, just as he allows them to eat and drink in his house without payment. Concerning other guests, it is preferable for the host to verbalize that he is giving the guest acquisition as a partial owner in the oil, wicks, etc.

Should I use candles or oil?

The miracle occurred through the flask of oil lasting eight days. Therefore, the preferred manner of performing this misvah is with olive oil; otherwise, candles are acceptable.

Every Friday night while reading Bameh Madlikin, we recite a list of wicks and oils unsuitable for Shabbat candles. Some are not suitable because they do not draw the oil well, thereby causing the flame to flicker, while others are not suitable because of their odor. The objective of Shabbat candles is to enjoy and benefit from their light, and we are worried one may mistakenly adjust or tilt the flickering candle for it to light better, or he might leave the room if there is an unpleasant odor. For Hanukah, however, these wicks and oils may be used. The Hanukah candles are not for our personal use. Therefore, even if they do not light well, we are not concerned that one may adjust the candles.

Where do I light?

Initially, the lighting would be outside, by the entrance to the courtyard or home, as a public display of the miracles Hashem has done for us. Nowadays, that we are in exile among other nations, it is recommended in most places to light inside so as not to incite our Gentile neighbors. Although when lit inside, the menorah is primarily meant to be seen by those inside the home, we light the menorah by the window so that it is also visible to passersby.

How high should I place my menorah?

The menorah should be placed at a height where the flames of the candles are above three tefachim (approximately 9.6 inches), and preferably below 10 tefachim (approximately 32 inches). If the menorah would only be visible to passersby outside if placed on a higher window ledge, or if there are young children around, there is no problem placing the menorah higher than 10 tefachim.

Which side of the menorah do we start lighting from?

On the first night, we light the rightmost candle in front of the one lighting. On the second night, a second candle will be added on the immediate left of the first candle. And so on – every added candle is placed in the next left slot. The lighting will always begin with the newest added candle (increasingly left) so that when you actually light, your direction will bring you to move your hand toward the right. The reason to perform the lighting in a rightward direction is like all Avodah – service in the Bet Hamikdash where the setup of the service positions the Kohen to begin at a point where his direction during his Avodah will subsequently turn toward the right.

When is the preferred time to light the menorah?

The preferred time to light is twenty minutes after sunset, or at least within a half hour after this time. If one is unable to light then, he should strive to do so as soon as possible. It is important to light while there are still passersby outside, as it is still considered lighting at the proper time. In a situation where no one will be home until late at night, one may light, as long as it is still nighttime. However, one should endeavor to have at least one other family member awake, so that the berachot can be recited according to all opinions.

May I eat before I light?

Once it reaches within a half hour of the time to light the menorah one should not sit down for a bread meal. However, if one already started his meal before that half hour, he may continue, though he may light during his meal.

How do I get to the Hanukah party on time?

One does not fulfill his misvah with what was lit at a family Hanukah party unless he is sleeping there overnight (or was sleeping there already from the night before even though he will be leaving that evening). If one would like to light quickly at home and then go, then his menorah will have to stay lit for a half hour. After this time, it is permitted to extinguish the lights. Otherwise, one can light the menorah when arriving home (as long as it is before dawn!).

When do we light on erev Shabbat?

Although one should first light the menorah and then light the Shabbat candles, if the wife mistakenly lit the Shabbat candles first, the husband may still light the menorah afterwards. If the woman is the one lighting the menorah, and she lit the Shabbat candles first, lighting the menorah at this point will depend on if her custom is to accept Shabbat with the lighting of the candles or not.

What if my candles went out?

It is proper to keep one’s hand lighting the flame until most of the wick is lit before proceeding to the next candle. Once the fire caught onto the wick properly, even if it went out within a half hour, one is not required to light again. However, it is preferable. The leftover oil or candle from it extinguishing prematurely can be used for the next night. Otherwise, it should not be disposed of like regular garbage since it was dedicated for a misvah. Therefore, it is burned, similar to leftover sacrifices.

What Mayor Mamdani’s Anti-Semitism Plan Means for Our Community

Our shuls. Our schools. Our children’s safety. But – is it enough to protect us?

Linda  Argalgi Sadacka

In the first seven months of this year, the NYPD confirmed 205 hate crimes against Jewish New Yorkers. That is nearly 57 percent of every confirmed hate crime committed in the city was directed against a community that makes up roughly ten percent of its population. In July, a Jewish man was stabbed outside a synagogue on the Upper West Side. Behind every one of those victims’ numbers is a person who was punched, spat on, cursed at, or followed home because he looked Jewish. Many of them look like our fathers, our sons, and our neighbors on the way to minyan.

The trend is moving in the wrong direction. Those 205 confirmed attacks are up from 189 during the same months last year, even as murders and shootings across the city have fallen to historic lows. In other words, New York is getting safer for almost everyone, while Jewish New Yorkers remain the single largest target of hate in the city by a wide margin. Anti-Jewish incidents have outnumbered every other bias category for three years running.

So, when NYC Mayor Zohran Mamdani stood up on September 29 to unveil what City Hall described as the first municipal plan in the country dedicated to fighting anti-Semitism, our community had every reason to read it closely. The mayor told New Yorkers that anti-Semitism is real and on the rise. On that point, nobody in Brooklyn needs convincing. But our tradition has never measured commitment by speeches. It measures commitment by maaseh, by what someone actually does. A plan is a set of decisions about money, priorities, and definitions. When you read past the announcement and follow those decisions, the story is far less reassuring than the headlines suggest.

What the Plan Contains

Start with the numbers, because they are the most concrete part of any government document. The plan sets aside $1 million to improve security at synagogues and other houses of worship. It directs $6.4 million to a city grant program called Partners Against the Hate, more than double what that program received last year. It commits $2 million to complete a Holocaust memorial in Queens and $2.5 million to a new Jewish cultural center in Brooklyn. It promises expanded student trips to the Museum of Jewish Heritage and a public campaign on city kiosks highlighting the contributions of Jewish New Yorkers.

Separately, the budget for the city’s Office for the Prevention of Hate Crimes has grown to $29 million a year, up from $3 million. The administration describes that increase as unprecedented, and in raw terms it is. But that office serves every community in the city, and the money is not earmarked for fighting anti-Semitism. When officials cite the 800 percent increase in response to questions about attacks on Jews, it is worth remembering that the figure describes a citywide budget, not a Jewish one.

The mayor also kept the Office to Combat Anti-Semitism, which his predecessor created. Its executive director, Phylisa Wisdom, has called it unacceptable that more than half of the city’s hate crimes target Jews. Yet when asked about those numbers, her office simply cited the citywide hate crime budget increase, a figure not earmarked for Jews at all. An office created to fight anti-Semitism should be the loudest voice for Jewish safety inside City Hall, not another messenger for the administration’s talking points.

The Smallest Number Is the One That Matters Most

Of all the figures in the plan, physical protection for places of worship is the smallest. One million dollars, spread across every synagogue, church, and mosque in five boroughs, will not put a trained guard at the door of the shuls in our own neighborhoods. Critics quoted in the press called it a drop in the bucket, and anyone who has served on a shul board and priced out guards, cameras, and reinforced entrances knows the critics are right.

Holocaust memorials and cultural centers have real value. Education about the Shoah matters, and our children’s generation will need it more than ours did. But the families walking to shul on Shabbat morning, the yeshiva buses lined up on Ocean Parkway, and the kollel men walking home after dark need protection now. A plan that invests more in remembering Jews who were murdered than in protecting Jews who are being targeted today has its priorities upside down.

What Was Erased on Day One

To understand the plan, you have to remember what came before it. On his first full day in office, Mayor Mamdani issued an executive order revoking every order his predecessor signed after September 26, 2024, the date Eric Adams was indicted. Among the executive orders was the city’s adoption of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance working definition of anti-Semitism, the standard used by governments, universities, and law enforcement agencies around the world. Also revoked was an order barring city agencies from boycotting or divesting from Israel.

The mayor defended the decision by pointing out that a number of Jewish organizations had their own concerns about the IHRA definition, and that is true. The debate over it is real, including among Jews. But there is a difference between refining a standard and leaving the city with no standard at all. City Hall said at the time that the mayor would reissue the orders he still supported. Nine months later, the city still has no adopted definition of anti-Semitism, and the new plan stops short of providing one. The administration’s position is that it can fight anti-Semitism effectively without committing to a single formal definition. The plan also makes no mention of Israel, the war, or the anti-Israel demonstrations that have driven so much of the harassment Jewish New Yorkers have faced since October 7th.

This is not an academic dispute. A definition determines what gets counted, what gets investigated, and what gets taken seriously. Anyone who has been cursed at for wearing a kippah, blocked from entering a building, or confronted outside a shul by protesters chanting about Zionists knows that today’s anti-Semitism very often arrives dressed as anti-Zionism. The IHRA definition was written precisely to recognize that reality while still protecting legitimate criticism of Israeli policy. Remove it, and the people deciding what counts as anti-Semitism are left free to decide that much of what our community experiences as anti-Semitism does not count.

It is worth noting who celebrated that decision. When the definition was revoked, the New York chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations publicly welcomed the move, describing it as a restoration of free speech. Hold onto that detail, because it returns later in this story.

Following the Money

The largest new commitment in the plan, $6.4 million, flows through Partners Against the Hate, known as P.A.T.H. The program was launched under Mayor de Blasio in 2021. It funds six anchor organizations, and those anchors in turn distribute grants to more than fifty smaller groups across the city. The anchors are the Anti-Violence Project, the Asian American Federation, the Hispanic Federation, the 67th Precinct Clergy Council, the Jewish Community Relations Council, and the Arab American Association of New York. According to the city, the program’s goals include community-based approaches to public safety, training on bias, better reporting of hate crimes, and improved data collection. Those are worthy goals. The question is who is entrusted to carry them out.

That inclusion of the Arab American Association of New York should give every Jewish New Yorker pause. This organization was led for more than a decade, from 2005 to 2017, by Linda Sarsour, one of the most prominent anti-Israel activists in the country, a figure many Jewish organizations have long accused of anti-Semitism, and a vocal supporter of the mayor. After Mamdani’s election, Sarsour declared she would work to remove pro-Israel Democrats from power. According to records compiled by the watchdog group OpenTheBooks, Sarsour’s  organization received more than $3.3 million from the city between 2017 and 2024, most of it not designated to any specific agency. Reporting on the group’s public record shows support for pro-Gaza demonstrations, including a 2024 protest connected to the Columbia University encampment that left Jewish students afraid to cross their own campus.

There is one more connection, and it comes from the organization’s own words. In testimony before the City Council last year, a representative of the Arab American Association described the organization’s work under P.A.T.H. and identified one of its own grantees: CAIR New York. The Council on American-Islamic Relations is the largest Muslim civil rights and advocacy organization in the U.S. That is the same organization that applauded the mayor for scrapping the definition of anti-Semitism. Put plainly, public money intended to prevent hate has flowed through an anchor organization to a group that celebrated the removal of the city’s standard for identifying hatred against Jews.

What We Know, and What We Do Not

Fairness matters here, because our credibility depends on it. Some posts circulating online claim that Sarsour’s former organization will receive the entire $6.4 million. That is not accurate. The Arab American Association is one of six anchors, and the Jewish Community Relations Council, which serves our community, is another. The program’s grants have also funded real work on behalf of victims of hate in many communities, and the city’s anti-Semitism plan includes elements we should welcome.

But the city has not published how the new money will be divided among the anchors or which subgrantees will receive it. That is precisely the problem. When a program presented as the centerpiece of an anti-Semitism strategy routes funds through an organization with this record, and onward to a group that cheered the dismantling of the city’s anti-Semitism definition, the public has a right to know how much is going where and what it is being used for. Transparency is not a favor the city does for the Jewish community. It is the minimum standard for spending public money.

None of this requires us to assume bad faith about every person working on these programs. It requires something simpler: that we judge the plan by its structure rather than by its slogans. A strategy against anti-Semitism that will not define anti-Semitism, that underfunds the physical protection of Jewish institutions, and that channels its largest commitment through partners with this history is a strategy that has not yet earned our trust.

How We Respond Matters Too

Our community will be tempted to respond to this story with anger, and some of the anger is justified. But the way we respond will determine whether anyone outside our own neighborhoods listens. Some of the commentary circulating online has already slid from criticizing one organization’s record into sweeping statements about Muslims and the future of New York. That does not help us. It hands every critic of our community an easy excuse to dismiss legitimate concerns, and it is beneath a people commanded to pursue emet and to keep our speech clean even when we are angry.

The strongest position we can hold is the one built on documented facts: the dollar figures, the public records, the organization’s own testimony, and the definition that was revoked. Those facts do not need exaggeration to be alarming. They need to be put in front of the people who make decisions, by constituents who are calm, precise, and impossible to ignore.

What a Serious Plan Would Look Like

Our community has always been most effective when we show up informed, organized, and specific. Outrage fades by the next news cycle. A documented, reasonable demand does not. Here is what we should be asking for, clearly and publicly.

First, full transparency. The city should publish exactly how the $6.4 million will be divided among the P.A.T.H. anchors, which subgrantees will receive funding, and what each grant is meant to accomplish.

Second, real security. Funding for the protection of houses of worship should be multiplied many times over. It is the most urgent need, the easiest to measure, and the hardest for anyone to argue against.

Third, a clear definition of anti-Semitism. The city should adopt a recognized definition that does not leave the targeting of Jews over Israel outside its reach.

Fourth, consistency. Any organization receiving public money to fight anti-Semitism should have a public record consistent with that mission, and should be able to say clearly that harassing Jews outside their shuls and schools is anti-Semitism, whatever slogan accompanies it.

City Council Speaker Julie Menin has called the year’s rise in hate crimes against Jewish New Yorkers unconscionable, and she is right. The City Council will have its own opportunities to press for these changes through hearings and the budget process, and our community should be in the room when the City Council meets.

What Each of Us Can Do Now

Call your Council Member’s office and ask where they stand on each of these four points. Contact the Mayor’s Office to Combat Anti-Semitism (MOCA) and ask for the P.A.T.H. funding breakdown in writing. You can do this online. If your shul, school, or organization has not yet applied for state and federal nonprofit security grants, make sure someone on the board does so now. Attend the next City Council hearing on hate crime prevention or the budget, and if you cannot speak, submit written testimony. The record is public, and officials read it. Bring a friend or neighbor with you. Report every incident, even the ones that feel too small to matter, because the numbers that shape city policy only include what gets reported. And talk to your neighbors who do not read the fine print, because an informed community is a protected community.

We have been told that anti-Semitism has no place in New York City. We agree. Now let’s make sure the budget, the definitions, and the partners say the same thing.

Dr. Jacques Doueck

You know the old saying, “I’d rather have a root canal!” Most people are afraid of root canals. For years, comedians have poked fun at them. Today, a root canal can be a very comfortable procedure, but if you can avoid it why wouldn’t you? There is no question that when needed root canal therapy saves teeth that would have been lost. A root canal is one of the most common dental procedures performed. The American Association of Endodontists estimates that 24 million root canals are performed each year and this number is expected to double within the next few years. This simple treatment can save your teeth and prevent the need of dental implants or bridges.

Why Avoid Root Canals? Are They Risky?

Because of the complex anatomy of the root canal system, it is impossible to completely eliminate all bacteria. Root canal therapy therefore cannot be guaranteed 100 percent and carries a 10-15 percent failure rate. Statistically, the failure rate for root canals is much lower for endodontists (5 percent) than general dentists (10-15 percent). Besides failures due to unresolved infection, root treated teeth are also dead and are weaker than living teeth. They carry the additional risk of fracturing under pressure. Even those root treated teeth that are reinforced with posts to support either crowns or bridges carry this risk of fracture.

Main Causes of Root Canal Complications and Failures

Missed Root Canals:  A tooth may have more root canals than normally anticipated, allowing the infected pulp in it to recontaminate the tooth. In some cases, even if the branch is noticed by the dentist, it may be in a position difficult to reach with the endodontist leaving infected tissue behind. Sooner or later, this will result in a new tooth abscess. Vertical root fracture: when the nerve (pulp) dies, teeth tend to become brittle. A serious root canal complication is the fracture of the root of the tooth during the filing procedure. This may require the tooth to be lost. Dr. Gus Livaditis, Developer of Vital Pulp Therapy states, “Vital Pulp Therapy works because we control the bleeding, control the bacteria, and place a durable filling on the tooth.”

Root Perforation: Another common problem is when an endodontic instrument accidentally perforates the root. If the opening is not sealed it will be a gateway for bacteria to re-enter the tooth.

Broken Instruments: The most common root canal complication is caused by the accidental breaking, inside the canal, of the endodontic files that are used to clean and shape it.

No Cap or Onlay: Even if the root canal was perfectly done, if you do not seal and protect the tooth with a cap or onlay – this can cause bacteria to re-enter and cause a new root canal infection.

Is There an Alternative to the Expense and Risk of Root Canal Treatment?

Today, we have an easy, comfortable procedure called vital pulp therapy. After treating the exposed nerve, we use state-of-the-art bonding material to restore your tooth – all in one visit. This is a safe, effective alternative to root canal therapy with a high success rate. Using state-of the-art technology and procedures, a safe, precise and effective result can be achieved. According to endodontist Dr. George Bogen, “Vital pulp therapy has emerged as a predictable treatment option.”

From Dr. Sam Masyr Endodontist/ Root Canal Specialist

“Why would a root canal specialist tell you how to avoid root canal?”

“Just kidding. I would encourage patients to go for regular checkups. A great percentage of root canal is caused by active decay. For dentists, every time we treat a tooth it irritates the nerve and uses up some of the healing capacity. We have no way of knowing how much it can handle. Therefore, taking care of problems  early reduces the need for repeated assault to the nerve.  If someone is more prone to cavities, they would benefit from prescription strength CariFree toothpaste, which strengthens and rebuilds the enamel, and prescription strength OraCare Rinse, which has been shown to effectively reduce bacteria and in addition improve periodontal gum health. We need to keep in mind, are you prone to cavities, do you clench or grind your teeth? You need to take it all into consideration.”

Frieda Schweky

Our culture is so rich. But after two or three generations in America, there is a real fear of our culture being eroded over time. We want our children to hold the flame we hand them: not only our religion, but our specific, nuanced traditions, the ones that make our community ours. And we want those traditions to be so deeply ingrained that one day they will wholeheartedly pass them on to their own children. Here are some suggestions for how we can make that happen.

Community: You Can’t Inherit What You Don’t Show Up For

A feeling of belonging is not automatic. A child can be born into a community and still feel like a visitor. What turns “our community” into their community is participation.

Our kids watch us closely. They notice whether we show up. Do we go to the shiva house, even when we’re tired? Do we bring a meal to the new mother, visit the sick, and stay to help clean up after the simha? Do we invite the person who has nowhere to go for yom tov?

When children see that community is something we do, not just something we live in, it stops being an abstract idea and becomes part of who they are. And here’s the quiet danger: if kids only see community as a list of expectations, like what to wear, who to marry, and worrying about what people will say, they’ll treat our community as something to escape. If they see community as the place that catches you when you fall and celebrates with you when you rise, they’ll want to stay and build it.

So, bring them along. Let them carry the cake to the neighbor, sit in the room at the simha, shake the hand of the elderly man at shul who knew their great-grandfather. Small things, done together, build a sense of “this is who we are.”

Pizmonim: The Tunes That Carry Us

Ask anyone in our community what Shabbat sounds like, and they won’t describe a speech or a lesson. They’ll hum something. A pizmon, a melody from the Shabbat table, a tune from shul that somehow lives in your body before you know all the words.

That’s not an accident. Our style of song in prayer and zimirot is one of the most distinctive things we have. The melodies are ours, and they carry our history in a way no textbook can. A child who grows up surrounded by these pizmonim absorbs a whole world without ever being “taught” it.

And that’s the point. Nobody inherits a tune from a lecture. They inherit it by hearing it again and again until it becomes theirs. So, practically:

Make Them the Soundtrack: Play pizmonim in the car, in the kitchen on Friday afternoon, and while the kids are getting dressed for Shabbat. Repetition does the teaching.

Let the Kids Lead:  Ask your five-year-old to choose the pizmon at the table. It doesn’t matter if it’s off-key. It matters that they feel it belongs to them, too.

Hand the Mic to the Grandparents:  The ones who know the old tunes and the stories behind them won’t be here forever. Record them. Sit with them. Ask them to teach the kids.

The Table: What We Taste and Smell

Ask any adult what they miss most about their grandmother’s house, and the answer is rarely a lesson. It’s a smell: the food, the spices, the Friday afternoon cooking aromas that filled every room.

Our food is one of the strongest threads of our identity. The dishes we make for Shabbat and yom tov are our history on a plate. Children who grow up in the kitchen, rolling, stuffing, stirring, and tasting, are quietly learning that this is ours.

You don’t need a perfect recipe or a gourmet spread. You just need them there.

Cook one traditional dish with your kids each week, even if it’s messy and takes twice as long with them creating along with you. Write the recipes down, in your family’s handwriting, with the “a little of this” notes. Those pages become treasures. Label whose recipe it was. “This was Nona’s.” The food  is the vehicle, and the family is the cargo.

Stories: Who Came Before Them

Every family has a story of how they got here. Someone left something behind, started over, worked hard, and held on to who they were while building something new. Children who know these stories understand that they’re part of a long chain, and they feel responsible for not being the one who drops it.

The trouble is that these stories can disappear quietly. They’re rarely written down, and they often live in the memory of one aging relative.

I’ve been inspiring myself as I write this. I think it’s time I start telling my children how the generation before us came to this country, and why. Two of their great-uncles escaped Iran on horseback, with Muslim extremists chasing them on horseback. I want my children to know what it cost to get them here, and the courage it took.

I also want them to know my Nona Frieda, the woman I’m proudly named after. She lived a beautiful life in Egypt, both before and after she was forced out of her hometown. She carried on through that upheaval and through a lifelong, on-and-off battle with cancer, and I never once heard her complain. Everything that came out of her mouth was praise for Hashem and gratitude for His goodness and blessings. That is a legacy worth passing down.

And of course, I want them to know about her Friday night meals, and the big tin on her counter, always filled to the brim with sambusak and kaak (sometimes both!). I was fortunate enough to inherit one of those decorative, useful tins, and I plan to fill it the way she did, baking her recipes with my girls and keeping it on my counter. Something homemade and delicious, always within reach: that’s a tradition I’m happy to keep going.

So, tell the stories, at the Shabbat table, in the car, at bedtime. Tell the funny ones too: the surprising moments, the family legends everyone loves to retell. Humor makes things stick. You don’t have to polish them. A child who hears, “Your great-grandfather used to do it this way,” feels something shift. They aren’t just a kid at a table. They belong to a story that started long before they came along.

Let Them See Us Live It

Here’s the hard part: our children inherit what we do far more than what we say.

We can give all the speeches we want about the importance of tradition, but if the kids see us rushing through Shabbat, scrolling through the meal, or treating our heritage as a chore, that’s the message that lands. On the other hand, when they see us light up at a pizmon, get a little emotional at a family simha, or pause before a meal with real gratitude, they learn that tradition matters.

That doesn’t mean being perfect. Kids can handle imperfect parents. What they can’t ignore is whether we care. Our enthusiasm is contagious, and so is our indifference.

One of the most powerful things we can do is let them see us learning, too. Ask the older generation questions. Admit what you don’t know. Show them that tradition is something we keep growing into, not something we’ve “finished.”

Make It Theirs

Finally, if we want our kids to carry the flame forward, we have to let them hold it now, not just someday.

Give them real roles. Let them run part of the Shabbat table, plan a yom tov menu, or teach a younger cousin a song. Let them ask questions, even hard ones, and meet those questions with curiosity instead of defensiveness. A child who’s allowed to wrestle with why we do things will own the answer far more than one who’s just told to comply.

Traditions survive when children feel like partners in them, not just spectators in the audience.

So, What Will They Inherit?

Not our money, though we hope to leave them some. Not even our rules. What we really want to hand them is a feeling: that they come from something beautiful, that they’re held by people who love them, and that the songs, tastes, stories, and customs of our community are theirs to treasure and to pass on.

None of this happens overnight. It happens in ordinary moments: a pizmon in the car, a casserole delivered to a neighbor, a story told at the table. If we keep showing up, one Friday at a time, the flame will be in good hands.

Give It a Shot

This week, try one thing: pick a pizmon your family loves and sing it together on Friday night. Start there. The rest will follow.

Until next time, 

Frieda Schweky

Frieda Schweky is a community photographer, videographer, and writer. For photography & video inquiries or article topic suggestions, email her at [email protected] or follow her on Instagram @friedaschwekyphoto.

Jack Gindi

What should one do when a loved one is making choices we disagree with? A relationship isn’t going the way we hoped. An apology isn’t coming. A diagnosis isn’t changing. What do we do when we can’t make things turn out the way we want?

Maybe the better question is: What is still mine to choose?

There was a time in my life as a father when I struggled with some of the choices my children were making. I believed I knew what was best for them, and because I loved them, I wanted them to see what I saw. So, I did what I thought a father was supposed to do.

I talked. I advised. I explained. And when that didn’t seem to work, I’m sure I talked, advised, and explained some more. In my mind, I wasn’t trying to control my children. I was trying to help them. I think most parents would say the same.

But the harder I tried to influence their choices, the more distance I created between us. At one point, one of my sons disconnected his family from us for more than a year. That was painful. It also forced me to face something about myself: loving someone doesn’t give me control over their choices.

The Difference Between Control and Agency

Somewhere in there, I started to understand the difference between control and agency. Control is believing I can make this turn out the way I want. Agency is deciding how I meet what is true. The truth was that my children had their own lives to live. Their choices were theirs, including the ones I would have made differently.

I could keep trying to convince them and risk even more distance. Or I could look at what still belonged to me. My behavior belonged to me. So did my love, and showing up as the kind of father I wanted to be. And perhaps most importantly, my example belonged to me.

I still worried. I still disagreed. But I started to see that the strongest way to pass on what I believed was to live it, not to argue for it. That’s a real shift with someone you love. Living your values may not change their choices. That’s the surrender. But it’s also what keeps the door open.

I think parents run into this long before their children are grown. We spend years teaching them, protecting them, correcting them. Then, gradually, the job changes. They start making their own decisions, including some we’d never make.

Part of preparing our kids for life is preparing ourselves for it.

We want them to make good choices. But they’re also watching what we do when life doesn’t give us the choice we wanted: whether we wear ourselves out trying to control what isn’t ours, or put our energy into what still is.

This isn’t just about parenting. It’s true of every relationship in my life, and probably yours, too.

There are people we can’t change. Some apologies may never come. Some questions may never be answered. Some losses can’t be reversed. A friend keeps making the same mistake. A sibling stops calling. Or a parent never becomes the person we needed them to be.

Sometimes agency means doing something: setting a boundary, asking for help, admitting a mistake, starting to rebuild. Other times it means deciding that someone else’s choices no longer get to decide ours.

That isn’t the same as giving up. Giving up means deciding nothing matters. Agency means owning what does: how we respond, where we put our attention, the values we live by, the people we reach toward, and the next choice we make.

Choose Something Different

I can’t tell you I’ve always lived this, as a father or as a husband. I haven’t. But I can tell you that trying harder to control the outcome never brought me closer to my children, or to anyone else I love.

Eventually, we chose something different. We let our son know that we would always be there for him, no matter what. We didn’t have to agree with every choice he made, but we could accept that he had his own path to walk and that some things were his to work through, not ours to control. Today, our relationship is stronger than ever.

There will be times when we can’t choose what happens, or what another person does. We may not get the ending we hoped for. But before deciding we’re powerless, it’s worth asking one more question: What is still mine to choose?

The answer may be smaller than we’d like. But it may also be enough to begin changing the direction of our lives for the better.