Imagine you’re sitting in the synagogue, or at some event, and a fellow in your row needs to leave.  He stands up and passes your seat.  There’s plenty of room in front of you for him to pass, but in his carelessness, he accidentally steps on your foot.  He politely apologizes, and then continues along his way.

A few minutes later, he comes back.  Once again, as he passes by your seat, he steps on your foot.  And once again, he apologizes.

If you’re a very nice person, you probably won’t say anything, despite your clear displeasure with this guy’s repeated carelessness that is causing your foot to hurt.

But when this fellow stands up to leave a while later, and, for the third time, steps on your foot and apologizes, even if you’re an exceptionally nice, patient and forgiving individual, you are not likely to remain silent – or, for that matter, to remain nice, patient or forgiving…

But Gd does.

“Abundant” Forgiveness

Three times every weekday, we recite in the Amidah prayer a special request for forgiveness, which concludes, “Baruch Ata Hashem, hanun hamarbeh lislo’ah – Blessed are You, O Gd, the gracious One who forgives abundantly.”  Gd is not just forgiving; He is “marbeh lislo’ah” – “abundantly forgiving.”  He is willing to forgive repeatedly.  No matter how many times we “step on His toes,” so-to-speak.  As long as we are sincere in our repentance, He forgives each and every time.

There is a basic truth that we must never overlook – the yetzer hara (evil inclination) doesn’t go away just because we sincerely regretted what we’ve done and asked Gd to forgive us.  The fact that we’ve performed sincere teshuvah (repentance) does not magically eliminate our weaknesses and temptations.  So, if we repeat the same mistake even after repenting, this does not invalidate our initial teshuvah – provided, of course, that our teshuvah was real and genuine, and not mere lip service.  And just as Gd lovingly accepts our sincere repentance the first time, He lovingly accepts our sincere repentance the second time, and the third.  As our Creator, He knows even better than we do that change does not happen instantaneously, that growth is a gradual process, that bad habits take time to break, that the spiritual challenges we face are real, that we really are struggling to do the right thing and to avoid wrongdoing.  And so, He is “marbeh lisloah,” forgiving us “abundantly” while patiently waiting for us to make the permanent changes that we ought to make.

The “Tzadik” and the “Rasha”

For most readers, I imagine, the point we just made is not new.  This is something that most of us have learned and heard, probably numerous times, especially during this season of the Yamim Noraim (High Holidays).  But here is something which, I believe, is not said often enough: The recognition of this idea marks the fundamental difference between a tzadik (righteous person) and a rasha (sinful person).

Too many people have a grave misconception about who a tzadik is, and what being a tzadik means.  They think that a tzadik is somebody who was born with a uniquely spiritual DNA, who is naturally wired differently, with an instinctive drive to act righteously and avoid sin.  They view a tzadik as somebody who is all but incapable of mistakes and failures, and who therefore always gets it right.

This might be how some biographies of great sages depict them, but this is not how King Shlomo depicts them.  In the Book of Mishleh (24:16), King Shlomo tells us the secret to being a tzadik: “Ki sheva yipol tzadik vekam – For seven times does a righteous person fall and then rise.”

The tzadik isn’t somebody who never makes mistakes.  He is somebody who makes mistakes and then gets back up.  Who doesn’t feel discouraged after making a mistake.  Who doesn’t feel that Gd hates him because of his mistakes.  Who doesn’t conclude that his mistakes mean he can never be good again, or can never earn Gd’s favor again.  Who sees a mistake as something to learn from, and not something to be ruined by.  Who understands that Gd forgives the first time, the second time, the third time, and even the seventh time.

King Shlomo continues: “ursha’im yikashelu bera’ah – the wicked stumble through wrongdoing.”  Whereas the righteous person gets up, the rasha (wicked person) allows his wrongdoing to keep him down permanently. 

A rasha isn’t an inherently evil person.  To the contrary, sinfulness often results from misguided piety.  A person makes a mistake, perhaps several, and maybe repeats them, and is then overcome by feelings of shame.  He decides that this mistake defines him and defines his future.  That Gd is no longer interested in his mitzvot, no longer cares about him, and will no longer accept his prayers.  He sees himself as a permanent failure, and so he doesn’t bother trying anymore.

Feeling so ashamed of one’s wrongdoing that he feels hopelessly rejected by Gd is not piety.  It is a denial of the prayer text instituted by the great sages and prophets of the early Second Commonwealth: “Hamarbeh lislo’ah.” 

This might strike many as counterintuitive, but it is true, and it is critically important.  The person who feels confident and beloved by Hashem even after sinning is the tzadik.  The person who feels despised by Hashem after sinning is the rasha.  The tzadik responds to failure by getting back up and resolving to keep trying; the rasha responds to failure by giving up.

Repentance Out of Love

In a famous passage, the Gemara (Yoma 86b) makes an astounding remark about teshuvah.

It teaches that if one repents miyir’ah – out of fear, frightened that he will otherwise be punished for his misdeeds, then his repentance has the effect of transforming his intentional misdeeds into unintentional misdeeds, such that he is forgiven.  But if a person repents me’ahavah – out of love, then his repentance goes even further – turning his misdeeds into sources of merit.  Astonishing as it sounds, teshuvah has the ability to turn our sins into mitzvot – such that we are actually rewarded for our mistakes!

How exactly does one perform “teshuvah me’ahavah,” and how can this possibly bring reward for wrongdoing?

The answer might be rooted in our discussion above.

When we contemplate the great gift of teshuvah, and Gd’s boundless compassion, we cannot but be overcome by feelings of love for him.  No technology will ever be created to enable us to travel back in time and change our past, yet this is what Hashem does.  Even when we’ve acted wrongly, intentionally, knowing full well that we are violating His word, He is willing to make the act disappear from history.  And He is willing to do so even the second time, and the third, and the fourth.  How can we not love Gd after contemplating His unlimited kindness?  When we reflect on our negative behaviors, on all our failings, and then think of how Hashem is prepared to “delete” it all – we are filled with feelings of love and a desire to draw close to Him.

It then turns out that our wrongdoing brought us close to Gd, it was the trigger that inspired us with love and drove us to seek to enhance our relationship with Him.  And so Gd, in His infinite mercy, turns our sins into merits.  If we use our sins as a catalyst to change, as a force that brings us closer to Gd, then they become sources of great merit for us.

This explains why, according to several leading sages, teshuvah me’ahavah enables one to earn atonement even for the most grievous sins.  The Rambam delineates different categories of sins, and explains what is required to achieve atonement for each category.  For certain misdeeds, one earns atonement immediately after repentance, whereas others require additional means of expiation.  The gravest sins are those which cause a hillul Hashem (defamation of Gd), bringing shame to the Torah or to the Jewish People, and they can be atoned only through the combination of repentance, punishments and death.  Some rabbis, however, maintain that this entire system applies only to repentance performed out of fear.  When one repents me’ahavah, out of genuine love, he achieves complete atonement even for the severest misdeeds.

In light of what we have seen, we understand why.  If a wrongful act becomes a catalyst for growth, then no matter how egregious the sin, it becomes a source of merit, not to mention that it is entirely forgiven.

There’s a saying in the business world: Every problem is an opportunity.  A successful businessman knows that when some challenge arises, when he confronts a crisis that threatens to destroy the enterprise, this is often a precious opportunity for growth.  The need to address the problem and adapt accordingly can end up catapulting the business to greater heights than it had reached before the crisis surfaced.

This is true also in the “business” of spirituality.  Being a tzadik means viewing every setback and every failure as a golden opportunity to become even better than before, to draw even closer to Gd that one had been before the fall.  If this is our response to failure, then we turn our failures into successes; our misdeeds become sources of merit.

May we all seize the precious opportunity presented by these special days to use the mistakes of our past to create a far more beautiful future for ourselves, our families, our community, and the entire Jewish Nation, amen.

Pnina Souid

Tony (not his real name) found himself driving in Williamsburg when suddenly – boom! – his car bumped into the car of a local chassid.

A former U.S. marine and current personal trainer, Tony not only looked formidable with his broad shoulders and impressive biceps, but he also had a temper, which he knew how to keep in check. When the man got out of his car, he began screaming at Tony.

“Look!” the man demanded. “Look at this dent! Look at this scratch you made in my car! Why didn’t you watch where you were going?!” You could almost see the steam coming out of his ears beneath his payos.

Tony flashed back to his time in Vietnam. As he felt the trauma rising, he felt like responding aggressively. Instead, he took a deep breath. “Baruch Hashem it wasn’t worse,” he said in an even tone.  “It’s just a scratch and a dent; it’s not your life. This is not something to get so upset about.”

Baruch Hashem

The man stopped in his tracks. He recognized that Tony was clearly not Jewish. “What did you say?” the man asked, incredulous. Did you say, “Baruch Hashem? Where in the world did you get that?!”

Tony explained that he learned those words at the gym, where he works as a personal trainer. The gym is owned by Mike Cohen, known as the Mitzvah Man. Tony learned from Mike’s Jewish clients that everything in your life comes from Hashem, so no there’s no need to ever get upset. When someone asks them how business is going they answer “Baruch Hashem it’s good.” When they get to work late, they say, “Baruch Hashem, at least I got to work.”  Anything that you might complain about, they do not. They just say, “Baruch Hashem.”

The man was astonished.

He said, “You work at a gym as a personal trainer, right? What’s the name of the gym?” Tony replied, “Mike’s Gym.”

Immediately, the man said, “Incredible! I see you are familiar with Jews. I and my 17 Chassidishe friends are looking for a personal trainer. Could we hire you to train us?”

“Of course!” Tony responded with a smile. He booked all 18 new clients.

Lessons Learned

Mike Cohen gives us the recap of this story’s lessons:

1. The non-Jewish personal trainer gave this Jewish man mussar – teaching him that everything is from Hashem
2. Tony booked all 18 clients, which would earn him a significant sum. And he saw how Hashem rewarded him right away.
3. The clients at my gym made a tremendous a kiddush Hashem without even realizing it.

When you praise and thank Hashem you never know who is listening and will learn from it.

Make a kiddush Hashem, say, “Baruch Hashem.”

Rabbi Yehuda Finchas

Eddie phoned me from his grandfather’s bedside: “I’m saying Tehillim, but on the other side of the curtain there is a bedpan, and I can smell an unpleasant odor. May I continue saying Tehillim, or must I leave the room?” This question arises regularly in hospitals and nursing homes. Eddie then added, “My grandfather also has a urinary catheter. May he pray with the catheter in place?” Halacha addresses these realities.

The Principle

The Torah teaches, “And your camp shall be holy” (Devarim 23:15). Chazal derived that one may not recite words of holiness in the presence of excrement or a foul odor. Maran rules in Shulhan Aruch that one must distance himself four amot – approximately eight feet – beyond the point where the smell ceases. Even if the individual cannot smell because of illness or a dulled sense of smell, halacha evaluates the situation according to someone with a normal sense of smell (Orach Chaim 79:1).

Covered Waste

Maran rules that a covered container containing excrement or urine is treated as though it were buried, provided no foul odor emanates from it (Shulhan Aruch, Orach Chaim 87:3). The Or LeTzion applies this principle to praying next to babies wearing diapers. Accordingly, if there is no foul odor, one may pray or study Torah next to them (see Or LeTzion, vol. 2, 6:15).

Neutralizing the Odor

Hacham Ovadia Yosef, zt”l, rules that when a foul odor enters a synagogue from nearby sewage, one can spray a pleasant fragrance until it overpowers the odor, after which the congregation may recite Keriat Shema and pray (Halichot Olam, vol. 1, Parashat Bo 14).  Once the foul odor has been completely overpowered, it is halachically regarded as having been neutralized (batel). This differs from someone who cannot smell because his sense of smell is impaired. In that case, the odor remains present even though he cannot perceive it.

Hospital Curtains

The Tzitz Eliezer (12:12; 20:11) discusses a curtain separating hospital beds when a bedpan is situated on the other side. Rav Eliezer Waldenberg rules that even if the curtain does not satisfy every requirement of a formal halachic partition, it may still serve as a covering, since it conceals the bedpan from view.

Rav Waldenberg also cites Sephardic authorities, including Zechut Avot, Chesed La’alafim, Rav Chaim Palagi’s Lev Chaim, and Petach HaDevir, who maintain that a strong pleasant fragrance may overpower the foul odor. Rav Waldenberg therefore permits prayer when the waste is separated by a curtain and the odor has been completely neutralized. Nevertheless, where it is possible to leave the area, doing so avoids the dispute among the authorities, since many poskim rule that odor-neutralization applies only when the odor comes from a separate room (shinui reshut), and not from behind a curtain in the same room (see Halacha Berurah 79:10).

Urinary Catheters

A urinary catheter drains urine through a tube into a collection bag. The Or LeTzion (vol. 2, 6:15) rules that if the system is closed and emits no foul odor, the patient may recite words of holiness. Halacha Berurah (78:2) similarly permits the patient to recite Keriat Shema, pray, recite blessings, and wear tefillin, provided his outer clothing is clean and odorless. If he feels a flow passing, he should pause until the flow stops and then he may then continue.

Conclusion

The challenge is preserving the kedusha of prayer and Torah in these circumstances. Returning to Eddie’s questions, because he could smell the bedpan, he should move beyond the range of the odor before continuing reciting Tehillim. If the bedpan is concealed and a pleasant fragrance completely overpowers the smell, there is room to permit him to remain, particularly in a pressing hospital situation.

His grandfather may pray with the catheter in place, provided the system is closed, his clothing is clean, and no foul odor is present. The Torah’s command that “your camp shall be holy” preserves the dignity of prayer while allowing patients to continue serving Hashem even amid illness and physical frailty.

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 [email protected].

Morris Schweky

When I made aliyah to Tzfat (Safed) six and a half years ago, I could not have imagined the life that awaited me. 

I grew up in Brooklyn’s SY community, surrounded by family and tradition, where everyone knows how to show up for one another. When I was eighteen, my mother and I started Stitches, a needlepoint business that became a familiar part of the Syrian community. We ran it together for fifteen years, getting to know our customers and helping them turn their ideas into one-of-a-kind pieces. Moving to Israel meant stepping away from work I loved and had put my heart and soul into, to begin again in the Holy Land. 

My Israel Experience

Three and a half years after making aliyah, I met my wife. We settled in northern Israel and were married one month before October 7th. We have since been blessed with a beautiful baby girl, and much of our family life has unfolded against the background of war. 

Like so many communities up north, Tzfat changed dramatically after October 7th. Tourism disappeared, businesses struggled, and daily life revolved around uncertainty, sirens, and bomb shelters. After working from home for so long, my wife and I agreed that I needed a change of atmosphere and a renewed sense of purpose. 

That was when I was introduced to Mordechai Kaplan, who was managing Beit Binyamin. At first, I thought I had found a job. Over time, I realized Hashem had opened a door I never expected. 

Enter Beit Binyamin

Beit Binyamin was created by Jen and Rob Airley of Beit Shemesh (originally from NY and the UK, respectively) after the loss of their beloved son, Sergeant Binyamin Meir Airley, H’yd, who fell in Gaza on November 18, 2023 (5 Kislev 5784), at just 21 years old, only a little more than a month after the war began.  

Before Binyamin’s passing, the Airley’s purchased a beautiful property in Tzfat with plans to make an Airbnb. Their overwhelming grief transformed that vision into a retreat home for soldiers and their families, a place where people carrying the weight of war could rest, reconnect, and begin to heal. In the process, it also became a source of livelihood for local tradespeople, artists, caterers, cleaners, and small businesses throughout Tzfat.  

The house, with its ancient stone walls and beautiful pergola overlooking Meron, has a peace that is difficult to describe. It feels both like an escape and like home.

The Story Unfolds  

As I became more involved, I met parents mourning children who had fallen defending Am Yisrael and soldiers arriving straight from the Lebanon front, grateful for a few days of rest, music, conversation, and good food.  

Standing among them, I realized I had been invited into a much bigger story. 

For the first time, Israel’s war was no longer something I was watching. It had become something that allowed me the privilege to serve Am Yisrael in my own way. 

Before Passover, after a major cleanup of the property, I was offered the role of House Manager. My job was to prepare the house for each event and welcome every soldier and family. The position connected naturally with my background, but at Beit Binyamin those practical skills came to serve something far more meaningful. 

A few days before Lag BaOmer, a group of soldiers arrived for an intensive three-day retreat. We filled those days with shiurim, music, spa treatments, meals, and an atmosphere of genuine unity.

Precious Pages Turned into Song

After the retreat, Mordechai asked me to dispose of papers left behind from one of the shiurim. When I brought them to the genizah, I noticed handwritten notes on the back.  

The question at the top read: “Why do we fight?”

Three soldiers had poured out their hearts. I could not throw those pages away. 

For nearly two hours I stood beside the genizah, reading and rereading their words. I realized there was a song hidden in those pages. I began writing, building the lyrics from their reflections, and “Soldiers of Truth” took shape. 

When I shared it with Mordechai and the Airleys, they immediately understood these words deserved to be heard. Binyamin’s longtime counselor, mentor, and friend, Shlomo Lipman, himself a soldier, graciously agreed to sing and produce the song. 

As I grew closer to Jen and Rob, I also felt I was getting to know Binyamin. I heard about his mischievousness, his aspirations, and his determination to become a better person. One soul changed the course of an entire family, and through that family he continues to inspire a nation.

Then another part of the story unfolded. 

A Painting Takes Flight

While scrolling through a WhatsApp art group, I came across a heartfelt video from an artist asking for help. One of her paintings, Kiddush HaShem, had been copied and reposted on X by a vicious anti-Semite who hoped to mock the work, the artist, and the message behind it. Instead, the post introduced the painting to more than 2.7 million people. Rather than hide, she encouraged people to keep sharing it, believing that truth would travel farther than hatred. 

When the painting was revealed, my heart stopped. It showed an Israeli soldier making kiddush over a cup of wine. I immediately knew it belonged at Beit Binyamin. 

The artist was Jordana Hanono, a talented member of the SY community from New York. Since October 7th, she had devoted herself to painting Israeli soldiers and donated her first year’s collection to support Israel’s war effort.  

Learning that Jordana was also from the SY community made the connection even more meaningful. Here was someone from our own community using her gifts to stand up for Am Yisrael through art. 

Once Jen understood the story behind the painting, she immediately saw what I saw. This was more than an image of a soldier. It was an image of Jewish identity, sacrifice, faith, and the longing to return home for Shabbat. 

It felt only natural that kiddush Hashem would become the cover artwork for Soldiers of Truth. A painting inspired by Israeli soldiers now embraces a song born from the reflections of Israeli soldiers. Though they have never met, they are telling the same story.  

Today, kiddush Hashem hangs at Beit Binyamin, greeting the very soldiers and families whose experiences inspired both the painting and the song.  

The soldiers, the song, and Jordana’s artwork all tell the same story: each is fighting for Am Yisrael in its own way. 

The Essence of Beit Binyamin

To me, that connection captures everything Beit Binyamin represents: grieving parents who transformed unimaginable loss into purpose, soldiers who continue to inspire through their courage, an artist from our SY community using her talent to fight anti-Semitism, and a fellow member of the SY community from Brooklyn who somehow found himself helping bring their stories together.  

Every time I open the doors of Beit Binyamin, I meet another soldier, another grieving parent, or another family searching for strength. I see how Binyamin’s life continues through every retreat, every meal, every conversation, every song, and every work of art.  

I am deeply grateful to Hashem for bringing me here. What I thought was simply a new job became an opportunity to witness courage, kindness, sacrifice, and faith in ways that continue to shape me every day. 

To my fellow members of the SY community, I hope you’ll visit Beit Binyamin and experience this remarkable place for yourselves. I would be honored to welcome you and share some of the extraordinary stories that continue to unfold within its walls. Whether by visiting, supporting our mission, making a donation, or simply sending words of encouragement to the soldiers and families who pass through our doors, you can become part of their story as well.  

I came looking for a job. Instead, Hashem brought me to a place where stories meet. 

For that, I am forever grateful. 

Contact Beit Binyamin at [email protected].

Frieda Schweky

Every summer, our community shows up and shows out. This summer’s events included private simhas,  fundraisers, and gatherings for programs that quietly do so much good.  I asked a few friends to share the events that stood out for them most this year, and their answers reminded me all over again why this community is so special.

The Lev Organization Gala

One of this summer’s most stunning events was put on by the Lev Organization, a non-profit group that helps individuals and families navigate the Jewish divorce process. The evening was Lev Organization’s Fourth Annual Awareness Event: Surrender and Soar. It was held on July 9th, at the home of Barbara Fallas Klause and Jordan and Shirly Granger. The setup alone was breathtaking – a huge, magnificent tent stretched over the pool, twinkling with light, with a photobooth for guests to capture the night and a Chinese auction table piled with prizes. Dinner was catered by AkiMori, and it did not disappoint.

The planned keynote speakers were Rabbi Ali Cohen, a marriage counselor and motivational speaker, and Gedale Fenster, a motivational speaker. Unfortunately, due to weather-related disruptions and logistical challenges, Gedale Fenster had to cancel at the last minute. But the evening was saved when Rabbi Joey Haber and Adina Eden Kamkhatchi (founder of the jewelry brand Adina Eden) stepped up to the mic. Despite the short notice they delivered speeches so powerful and moving that most guests probably did not even realize there had been a change of speakers. It was a beautiful reminder that in our community when something doesn’t go as planned, someone always steps up.

Paint with Jill

Not every meaningful “event” of the summer is a big formal affair, and Paint with Jill, run by the talented Jill Levy, is proof of that. Twice a month throughout the summer, Jill hosts intimate parent (or grandparent)-child watercolor classes, sometimes mother and child, sometimes father and child, and sometimes grandmother and grandchild. Many kids count down the days until it’s their turn to attend with a parent or grandparent.

There’s something so lovely about sitting side by side with your child or grandchild, music playing softly in the background, with no phones or distractions, just paint, conversation, and each other. Jill always teaches something new, whether it’s a blending technique or a new way to look at color. Many see their painting abilities improve over the years thanks to Jill. Paint with Jill offers the kind of quiet, connective summer tradition that doesn’t make headlines but makes beautiful memories.

Leah Setton on Shirah Elementary’s Chinese Auction

Shirah Elementary (Bnot Shirah) really outdid themselves this year with a stunning Chinese auction hosted at the beautiful home of Charles and Ariella Ben Dayan. The evening had it all: garden photoshoots by Shelly Shmool, a lively Mahjong tournament, and guest speaker Jackie Bitton, who left a lasting impression on everyone.

Jackie’s message stuck with me long after the event ended. She told the story of how, right at the start of the school year, her son’s school announced there would be no school bus and every family would need to arrange carpool themselves. For Jackie, this felt like a genuine burden, another 40 minutes lost each day to Brooklyn traffic on top of everything else on her plate. Then, one day she got a call from a friend who was seriously ill in the hospital. Her friend told her that if she could be anywhere in the world at that moment, she’d choose to be driving carpool, because that would mean her life was back to normal. It would mean she didn’t have to rely on the kindness of others just to get her kids where they needed to go or to feed her family dinner. It would mean she had the privilege of doing those small, everyday tasks herself.

That phone call changed everything for Jackie. She never complained about carpool again. She shared a teaching from Rabbi Nachman of Breslov about always choosing simha and gratitude toward Hashem. She also told an inspirational story about noticing an African American woman in a store who, after accidentally knocking something over, laughed it off and said, “I’m too blessed to be stressed.” Jackie’s takeaway was simple but powerful: we all have the ability to brighten someone else’s day and be a light to the people around us, something her own daughter reminded her of before heading off to speak at a Shabbaton.

The line that’s stayed with me most is this: “I don’t have to, I get to.” The next time you’re tempted to complain about something mundane, like carpool, or laundry, or the school run, it’s worth remembering that somewhere, someone would give anything to be doing that very thing. A small shift in how we talk about our everyday tasks can entirely change how we feel about them.

Sari Shamah on the Morris Franco Cancer Center Spa Day

There’s no shortage of incredible programming in our community every summer. Sari could easily point to the Hatzalah Carnival or Yaakov Shweky’s electric concert for the Children’s Center, both of which were fantastic. But she wanted to shine a light on something a little more under the radar: the Morris Franco Cancer Center spa day, hosted at Dr. Gayle Krost’s home.

It’s a day built entirely around celebrating life together, volunteers and clients, side by side. There are massages, art projects, and wonderful food, but the real heart of the day is hearing directly from the clients and volunteers about how the program has touched their lives. It’s the kind of event that puts everything into perspective and reminds you exactly what this community stands for: when someone is struggling, there is an entire tribe ready to step in and help. Sari felt it was important to give credit to these unsung heroes who don’t always get the spotlight but absolutely deserve it.

Suzy Haber on Serenity by the Shore

Suzy’s favorite event of the summer was Serenity by the Shore, hosted by Magen Abot Yeshivah at Kassin Beach on July 13^th. The day began with a workout overlooking the ocean, followed by a beachside meditation led by Nomi Simhon. From there, guests took a “roots and remedies” class, learning about which herbs and roots can be used for different ailments. Attendees got to make and take home their own tinctures. The Hut set up a jewelry-making station with beads and charms. Breakfast and lunch, catered by Nicole’s Kitchen, were absolutely delicious.

What struck Suzy most was how thoughtfully the entire day was planned. It wasn’t just about putting on a nice event or raising awareness for the school. It was about giving the school moms a relaxing, joyful day surrounded by wonderful company. There was a coffee bar, an acai bar, and even childcare so moms could actually unwind. The school principal gave a parenting class that Suzy and her friends found incredibly helpful. By the time the day ended, she and her friends didn’t want to leave.

A Summer to Remember

The common thread our community members picked up on this summer was the theme of connection. Whether it was a black-tie gala under a tent, a quiet watercolor class with a child or grandchild, a spa day for cancer patients and their families, or a sunrise workout on the sand, all of these moments was really about showing up for each other.

That’s what our community does best. We celebrate together, we support each other through hard times, and we find small ways to make ordinary days feel a little more special. As the summer winds down and we start thinking about the school year ahead, I hope we carry a little of that spirit with us: the gratitude, the willingness to step up when someone else can’t, and the reminder that even the mundane tasks of daily life are something to feel very fortunate about. Here’s to another summer of memories, and here’s to next summer already being something to look forward to.

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

Over the years, I’ve noticed something about the way we talk about stress.

We use the same word to describe running late for work, losing a job, receiving a difficult medical diagnosis, or burying someone we love. We call it all “stress,” but those experiences are not the same. One type of stressful experience asks us to take a deep breath. Another type of stressful experience changes the course of our lives.

In construction, load-bearing walls support everything else. When one of those walls is damaged, you don’t simply patch the crack. You strengthen the structure because the integrity of the entire building depends on it.

Life works much the same way.

Preparing for the Storms

Some problems are temporary inconveniences. Others shake the very foundation beneath our feet. That raises an important question: Have we prepared ourselves and our children for the storms every one of us will eventually face?

As parents, we spend years teaching our children how to read, write, solve math problems, drive a car, and treat others with kindness and respect. We teach them to swim before they fall into deep water, change a tire before they’re stranded on the side of the road, and perform CPR before they encounter someone who stopped breathing. We understand that preparation creates confidence.

Yet when it comes to life’s biggest turns, we often leave our children to figure things out while they’re living them.

Very few of us ever say, “One day someone you love will die. One day your heart will be broken. One day life won’t unfold as you planned. Here’s how you begin finding your way through it.”

Most of us learn those lessons after life has already handed them to us.

Learning Acceptance

When I think about where I learned those lessons, I don’t remember my mother sitting me down to explain resilience or adaptation. She taught me by the way she lived. Like every family, ours experienced disappointments, hardships, and losses. My mother never pretended those moments didn’t hurt, and she didn’t waste her energy wishing reality were different. She accepted what had happened and then quietly began deciding what to do next.

Looking back, I learned one of life’s most important lessons simply by watching her.

Acceptance.

But here’s what I wish we had talked about. Acceptance is where mastering life begins. It isn’t where it ends.

Mastering Life

The older I get, the more I believe mastering life means preparing ourselves mentally, emotionally, physically, relationally, and practically before life’s storms arrive. Every storm asks something different of us. Grief asks us to mourn. Betrayal asks us to rebuild trust and establish healthy boundaries. Financial hardship asks us to make difficult decisions. Illness asks us to adapt to a new reality. Every major turn in life requires different skills, yet we rarely teach them until someone is already struggling through them.

One of the greatest surprises in my own life has been discovering that hardship rarely arrives alone. Losing a job often becomes financial pressure. Financial pressure strains relationships. Strained relationships affect sleep. Poor sleep clouds judgment. Before long, what began as one difficult event has spread into every corner of life.

Life has a way of creating ripples.

Planning Ahead

Understanding that has changed the way I think about preparing for life. We cannot prevent every storm, but we can become better prepared to weather one. A boxer doesn’t learn how to take a punch during the championship fight. A sailor doesn’t learn to navigate in the middle of a hurricane. Preparation happens long before the moment it’s needed.

Yet life is the one thing we rarely prepare for until we’re already living through it.

Imagine teaching our children how to recover from disappointment, ask for help without shame, recognize unhealthy relationships, think clearly under pressure, and begin again after failure. Those lessons may prove just as important as algebra, history, or science because life’s storms test far more than knowledge.

They test character. Perhaps that’s what mastering life really means. It isn’t mastering every circumstance. It’s preparing ourselves before life’s biggest storms arrive.

Giving Skills to Our Children

My mother gave me one of life’s greatest lessons by the way she lived. I only wish we had talked about the storms I hadn’t yet seen coming. Perhaps that’s one of the greatest gifts we can give the next generation. We can’t promise them a life without hardship, but we can prepare them with the skills they’ll need to weather hardship when it arrives.

After all, that’s how my mother taught me – not with a lecture, but with a life.