Jack Gindi

I recently read a story about renowned physicist Richard Feynman as a young boy, walking with his father and learning about the world around him. Other children could proudly name the birds they saw. They had memorized them perfectly. But his father asked a different question: “What does it do? How does it move? What makes it different?”

He wasn’t teaching his son to label the world. He was teaching him to observe it. To stay curious. To look longer than everyone else.

Feynman later said the easiest person to fool is yourself.

That line stays with me.

Because I’ve seen how easily we fool ourselves, not with ignorance, but with certainty.

An Open Palm or a Closed Fist

Some people move through life with an open palm. Others move through it with a closed fist.

An open palm is willing to learn. A closed fist fights to be right.

Now here’s something important: I live with certainty. I always have.

When I entered the real estate brokerage business, I was certain of one thing. I would become a top producer. I didn’t know how. I had no connections, no playbook, no roadmap. But I was certain of the destination.

That certainty didn’t close my hand. It opened it.

Because I didn’t know how, I had to watch. I had to ask questions. I studied the best. I followed leads. I failed. I adjusted.

My certainty was about where I was going. My openness was about how I would get there.

There’s a difference.

A closed fist says, “I already know.”

An open palm says, “Teach me.”

When Certainty Turns into Fear

We see this posture in the smallest moments. A disagreement at the dinner table. Feedback at work. A spouse pointing something out. A child asking a hard question.

Something challenges what we believe, and we feel it, that tightening. We defend. We explain. We protect our position.

That tightening can feel like strength.

But often, it’s fear.

Fear of being wrong. Fear of losing control. Fear of discovering we still have more to learn.

The most dangerous certainty isn’t believing you’re right. It’s believing you no longer need to grow.

You cannot receive anything new with a clenched hand. Not wisdom. Not correction. Not even deeper connection.

I learned this the long way.

There were seasons in my life when I believed standing firm meant refusing to question myself. I thought strength meant holding my ground at all costs. Over time, I discovered something humbling: when my hand was closed, nothing new could enter.

Wisdom does not force its way in.

It waits for space.

Naming Isn’t the Same as Seeing

We label situations quickly: “That’s just how I am.” “That’s the problem.” “That’s the answer.”

Once we’ve named it, we believe we’ve mastered it.

But naming isn’t seeing.

Seeing requires humility, the willingness to look again.

And humility is not weakness. It is strength under control.

Our children are watching this more than we realize. They don’t learn humility from lectures. They learn it by watching how we respond when we’re corrected.

Do we listen? Do we reconsider? Do we admit when we’re wrong? Or do we tighten our grip?

Confidence without curiosity becomes arrogance. Conviction without openness becomes blindness.

The Strongest Posture

The strongest posture I’ve found in life is this:

Be certain about your direction.
Stay open about your method.

Be certain about your values.
Be open about how you apply them.

Be certain about who you are becoming.
Be open about what you still need to learn.

Before you leave this thought tonight, ask yourself:

Where in my life am I certain about the outcome but closed to learning the path?
When was the last time I truly changed my mind?
What belief might I be holding too tightly?

Growth does not require abandoning conviction. It requires loosening our grip on how things must unfold.

Wisdom is not something we conquer. It is something we receive. And it can only enter an open hand. Onwards together – with love and gratitude.

Why Brooklyn’s Jewish Community Must Speak Up Now

Linda Argalgi Sadacka

In Brooklyn’s Jewish neighborhoods, certain scenes are so familiar that we rarely pause to notice them.

On Shabbat morning, fathers walk with their sons toward shul. Mothers guide small children down the block. Teenagers drift toward friends already waiting outside synagogue doors. Grandparents move more slowly along the same sidewalks they have walked for decades, sometimes leaning on a cane, sometimes arm in arm with a spouse or child.

In neighborhoods like Flatbush, Midwood, Gravesend, and the surrounding communities, the walk to shul is not simply routine. It is one of the quiet, defining rhythms of Jewish life.

No one used to think twice about it.

New Question of Safety

Which is why the question many Brooklyn families now quietly ask would have sounded unimaginable not long ago: will the walk to shul always feel safe?

For generations, Brooklyn represented something powerful for Jewish life. It was a place where Jewish families could practice their faith openly, build institutions, and raise children with the confidence that their synagogues were places of prayer, dignity, and community.

But since October 7, the atmosphere surrounding Jewish institutions in New York has shifted in ways that many families feel every week.

Sometimes the change is subtle. Sometimes it is unmistakable.

Security outside Jewish schools has increased. Synagogues have become more vigilant. Parents walking with their children to services find themselves paying closer attention to their surroundings.

A Pivotal Event

For many Brooklyn residents, the moment when that tension became impossible to ignore came during the protest outside Congregation Shaare Zion on Ocean Parkway, when demonstrators gathered outside the synagogue in response to a planned appearance by Israeli National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir.

Supporters also arrived, and police were forced to separate the groups as tensions escalated. Clashes broke out, arrests were made, and the event was eventually canceled.

For those watching the scene unfold, the most unsettling aspect was not the political disagreement itself. New Yorkers are accustomed to protests. The city has always been a place where people gather to express strong views about global events.

What made this moment different was where it was happening. This was not a demonstration outside a government building or a public plaza. It was unfolding outside a synagogue where families had gathered for a community event and where worshippers regularly come to pray.

Once protests move to the doors of houses of worship, the nature of the confrontation changes.

Sanctity of the Synagogue

A synagogue is not a ministry or a parliament. The people walking through its doors are not policymakers or negotiators. They are parents bringing children to services, elderly congregants attending prayer, and families participating in the rhythms of Jewish life.

Yet the protest outside Shaare Zion was not an isolated moment. Similar scenes have taken place outside Jewish institutions across New York, including outside Park East Synagogue in Manhattan, where protesters gathered while congregants attempted to attend services.

Moments like these raise a troubling question: if houses of worship become routine protest sites, what happens to the ordinary act of entering a synagogue?

Children absorb these moments in ways adults sometimes overlook.

A child approaching synagogue should be thinking about prayer, about friends waiting inside, about the warmth of community. That child should not be processing hostility directed toward the place where their family gathers to worship.

The elderly feel this tension as well.

Anyone who has watched older congregants make their way slowly toward synagogue understands how vulnerable that walk can already be. Many move carefully. Some rely on assistance. To place them in the middle of emotionally charged demonstrations is not merely inconvenient. It is deeply unsettling.

Buffer Zones

The debate over buffer zones around houses of worship grew out of precisely these concerns.

Within a week of the October 7 attacks, as protests began spreading throughout New York City, I reached out to members of Mayor Eric Adams’s staff to raise the idea of establishing buffer zones around houses of worship. Watching demonstrations escalate so quickly, it seemed clear that the city needed to think several steps ahead.

The proposal never advanced to the level of serious policy discussion.

Fast forward to City Hall, where the New York City Council recently held a nearly ten-hour hearing debating legislation that would allow the NYPD to establish limited buffer zones around houses of worship and schools.

The proposal, part of a broader effort introduced by Council Speaker Julie Menin to combat rising anti-Semitism and hate crimes, does not prohibit protest. Demonstrators would still be able to assemble and express their views.

What the legislation seeks to do is to ensure that protests do not take place directly at the entrances of houses of worship where worshippers must pass to enter.

For many members of the Jewish community, that distinction is both reasonable and necessary.

Community Members Take a Stand

During the hearing, several voices from the community articulated that concern directly.

Community activist Abie Hamra addressed lawmakers and made a straightforward point: the First Amendment protects freedom of speech and freedom of assembly, but those rights do not extend to blocking access to houses of worship or interfering with another person’s ability to pray.

Cities impose reasonable time, place, and manner restrictions all the time. Ensuring safe access to houses of worship should not be controversial.

District leader Joey Saban also emphasized the importance of legislation introduced by Senator Sam Sutton. In addition to serving in the Assembly, Saban is also Senator Sutton’s Chief of Staff.

“The buffer zone legislation introduced by Senator Sutton is precisely why it is so important that we have a seat at the table,” Saban said. “Through his leadership we have been able to introduce a major piece of legislation that will have a direct effect on keeping our community safe at a critically fragile time for the Jewish community in New York.”

I was invited to testify during the hearing as well. Because I was available earlier in the morning and could not remain until my scheduled speaking slot later in the day, I submitted my testimony to the Council by email.

Addressing Arguments by Opponents of Buffer Zones

In my testimony I addressed an argument raised by several opponents of the legislation.

During the discussion, much of the justification for protests centered on claims that certain religious institutions host events connected to political or international disputes. People may strongly disagree with those issues, and protest is a protected and important part of democracy. But the individuals walking into a synagogue, church, or mosque are not policymakers or negotiators. They are ordinary people coming to pray.

If disagreement with an idea becomes justification for confronting people at the doorway of a house of worship, then no doorway remains neutral ground.

Parents arrive pushing strollers. Grandparents move slowly with walkers. Families come seeking prayer, comfort, and community. They should not have to pass through shouting crowds or emotionally charged demonstrations simply to enter a religious space. At that point, it ceases to be protest and becomes intimidation.

Buffer zones do not silence protest. Demonstrators remain visible and heard. What buffer zones do is create a margin of space so that worshippers are not forced into confrontation simply to practice their faith.

Devorah Halberstam and Inna Vernikov

Among those who also addressed lawmakers was Devorah Halberstam, whose son Ari was murdered in a terrorist attack on the Brooklyn Bridge in 1994. For decades she has worked to combat anti-Semitism and advocate for Jewish safety in New York.

Speaking during the hearing, she urged lawmakers to pass the legislation for Ari, a”h, and ensure that houses of worship remain places where families can gather without fear.

Council Member Inna Vernikov has also expressed support for protecting access to houses of worship, emphasizing that while protest is a protected right, intimidation that interferes with the free practice of religion should not be tolerated.

Troubling Trends

Still, beyond individual statements, many Jewish New Yorkers are concerned about a broader convergence of troubling trends.

Public sympathy for groups that openly celebrated the October 7 massacre has appeared at protests and across social media. At the same time, debates about policing and enforcement have left some communities questioning whether sufficient resources exist to respond when demonstrations escalate.

When sympathy for extremist violence, uncertainty about enforcement, and the absence of clear protections around houses of worship collide, the result can feel like a dangerous vacuum.

And that vacuum is felt most clearly at the doors of synagogues.

If the ordinary rhythms of Jewish life begin to feel uncertain, the consequences ripple outward. Parents hesitate. Children absorb the tension. The sense of security that once defined community life begins to erode.

That is why this moment cannot be met with quiet concern alone. Brooklyn’s Jewish community must make its voice heard.

Speak Up!

Residents should contact their City Council members and state representatives and tell them clearly that protecting access to houses of worship must remain a priority.

Reasonable buffer zones are not about silencing protest. They are about ensuring that families can enter synagogues without intimidation.

New Yorkers can identify their elected officials by entering their address here: https://www.mygovnyc.org.

The message should be simple. Support reasonable buffer zones around houses of worship so that worshippers can pray without fear.

Congregants should also speak with their rabbanim and community leaders and encourage them to publicly support these protections. When lawmakers hear directly from the families who fill Brooklyn’s synagogues every week, the issue becomes impossible to ignore.

The demonstration outside Shaare Zion should not become normal in Brooklyn.

The hostility seen outside Park East Synagogue should not become the expectation for Jewish families entering houses of worship anywhere in this city.

The walk to shul should remain what it has always been, a peaceful expression of faith – not an act of courage. And ensuring that it stays that way requires the community to speak up now.

The Morris I. Franco Community Cancer Center Opens Its Doors to a New Chapter

For nearly thirty years, Nancy Sutton has made sure that no one in the community faces cancer alone. From the very first phone call, she and her team at the Cancer Center have been there – guiding patients and families through one of the most overwhelming experiences of their lives. For many clients, that first call comes during a moment of fear or uncertainty. Although it starts with needing doctors and referrals, the center understands that behind every diagnosis is a person, a family, and a story, and their mission has always been to offer compassion, guidance, hope, and support.

What began as architectural drawings and construction plans slowly transformed into a welcoming, vibrant center designed to serve thousands of people in the years ahead. After years of dreaming, planning, and building, that mission finally has a home that reflects everything it stands for.

The new building, located at the corner of McDonald Avenue and Avenue S in Brooklyn, is nearing its grand opening. For Nancy, the goal was to create an oasis.

“As soon as you walk in the door, you feel relaxed and welcomed,” she says. “Tranquil – that’s the word.”

From the first step, atmosphere sets the tone. Natural light pours through large windows, filling the space with an airy, open feeling. Gentle greenery and warm wood tones create a sense of nature indoors. Throughout the building, the soft sound of a waterfall flows quietly in the background, creating a peaceful rhythm that can be heard from many areas of the center. The effect is immediate – calmness, warmth, and a feeling of serenity.

The environment was designed intentionally to help clients breathe, slow down, and feel supported. Whether someone is coming for support services, a wellness program, or simply to attend a community event, the center welcomes them into a space that feels peaceful and alive.

For many visitors, the building itself becomes part of the healing experience.

Building Vision

The search for the right location took nearly a decade. Once the property was secured, construction – led by general contractor ABECO – spanned more than four years.

Every detail was thoughtfully considered, from the bamboo paneling and expansive atrium to the greenery cascading down the building’s facade.

The goal was not simply to build a medical support facility, but to create a place that feels uplifting and restorative.

“The more you care about every tiny detail, the happier you will be with the final product,” reflects Sam Sutton, chairman of the building committee. “This was a work of love, and the building reflects the love our community has for anyone touched by this disease.”

Architect Michael Goldblum, who worked closely with Nancy throughout the process, designed the space around a two-story, light-filled lobby that serves as the building’s heart.

“No matter where you go, you always know where you are,” he explains. “The building is part of the therapy, part of the process, part of the cure – it’s part of the healing.”

Board member Alan Tobias, who stepped in as project manager during the final stretch, watched that vision come together piece by piece.

“It was like a puzzle,” he says. “All the parts were separate, and then suddenly they came together. That felt very good.”

A Space That Heals

Step inside, and the scope of what has been created becomes clear.

At a spa lounge, with a waterfall and soothing music, acupuncture, Reiki, and reflexology are offered. The peaceful sounds and calming scents in the spa create an environment that immediately relaxes visitors.

In the salon, clients can be fitted for a wig and receive a full beauty treatment. Artisans of wig selection and styling staff the salon. The salon provides a private, uplifting space where clients can feel like themselves again. For many individuals undergoing treatment, these small moments of self-care can restore confidence and provide an emotional boost on difficult days.

There is also a creative expression room where adults and children can heal through art, music, and other creative activities. A full gym and yoga studio are located on the first floor. Yoga classes focus on breathing, calm, and gentle movement, helping participants reconnect with their bodies and find moments of peace during challenging times.

A children’s room provides younger visitors with a space where healing can occur through play and creativity. The room includes games, activities, and music that give children an opportunity to express themselves, relax, and enjoy being kids.

The building includes a café and demonstration kitchen that feels sweet, warm, and inviting. Here, healthy cooking demonstrations are offered regularly, teaching practical ways to prepare nourishing meals. These events are open not only to cancer patients but to the broader community as well, helping everyone learn how healthy choices can support long-term wellness.

Private counseling rooms provide psychological and emotional support for individuals and families, navigating difficult moments. Support groups, wellness workshops, and educational events will take place throughout the year, encouraging open conversations about emotional well-being.

The center will also host social gatherings, holiday celebrations, preventive health care,  and community events designed to bring people together. These moments of connection are just as important as the wellness services themselves, helping people feel less alone on their journeys.

Another special feature of the center is its rooftop garden terrace, a peaceful retreat that offers clients a moment of calm above the activity of the building below. Designed as a quiet sanctuary, the rooftop provides a place where visitors can step outside, take a deep breath, and simply be still. Surrounded by greenery and open sky, the terrace allows clients and their families to enjoy fresh air and natural light in a setting that feels both peaceful and restorative.

Throughout the building, great care was taken to create spaces where clients feel comfortable and respected. The center is designed to offer both welcoming community areas and quieter corners like the medical library, for those who prefer a more personal setting. The center cultivates an environment that supports each person in whatever way they need during their journey.

Interior designer Joy Silvers poured herself into every room – but her connection to the center runs far deeper than design.

She is a former patient – someone who Nancy once guided through both breast cancer and lymphoma.

“I didn’t know if I was going to survive,” she says quietly. “I had a baby who was a year and a half. Now my son is 21, and I’m so blessed. “Working on the building was deeply personal. To see someone who isn’t well walk into a beautiful environment and feel happy – that’s extra special.”

Staff members often see firsthand how meaningful the space can be for clients.

Nina Tawil describes the experience of welcoming people into the building.

“I love seeing the look on the clients’ faces when they walk in the door,” she says. “Showing them this beautiful space always excites me because I know this is a haven for them to come to and enjoy and put their mind at ease while they’re going through trying times. I see the sense of calmness and ease they feel when they walk in.”

A Place for the Whole Community

Claire Cheika, Vice President, reflects, “There’s a genuine sense of warmth here that makes you want to be part of something so meaningful and give as a volunteer.”

Volunteers help assemble welcome packages and thoughtful gifts for clients beginning their journey. They assist with preparing flowers for Shabbat and preparing delicious, nourishing meals. Families facing illness can still experience a genuine sense of support in their day-to-day lives. Volunteers also play an important role in organizing fundraising events, planning community programs, and helping bring the center’s mission to life.

Holiday celebrations and special gatherings throughout the year will continue to make the center a place where people come together for joy and connection.

Educational programs, wellness demonstrations, and community events will encourage people to learn about healthy living, prevention, and emotional resilience. The center hopes to inspire individuals and families to care for their health in meaningful ways.

Built by the Community

None of this would have been possible without the community.

Fundraising was led by Sam Sutton, and support poured in from donors who believed deeply in the mission. Government funding, secured through the Sephardic Community Federation, helped bring the final touches of the building to life.

The builder who worked on the project captured the feeling perfectly:

“This wasn’t just about constructing a functional space. It was about creating somewhere people could feel supported and welcomed during one of the most difficult times in their lives.”

Nancy sums it up simply.

“When I see clients walk in and say, ‘Oh my… we get to come here?!’- that’s when we knew we got it right.”

No single person built this center. It took a team, a community, years of dedication – and Hashem’s helping hand. It is a refuge where people can find peace, strength, and support. And now, at last, it’s home.