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.

Inside a White House Faith Office Briefing – and the Quiet Responsibility of Representing Torah Values where Policy and Faith Intersect

Linda Sadacka

Some of the most important conversations in Washington, D.C. never make the evening news.

They do not unfold beneath the bright lights of a presidential press conference or in the combative atmosphere of a Congressional hearing. Instead, they take place behind closed doors, where a small group of invited guests sits across from senior administration officials to discuss the ideas, priorities, and policies shaping the country long before they become headlines.

That was the purpose of a recent White House Faith Office briefing held inside the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, the magnificent 19^th-century landmark adjacent to the White House where many of the President’s senior advisors work. Approximately 25 invited guests, including faith leaders, nonprofit executives, writers, activists, and media personalities from across the country, gathered for an afternoon of policy briefings and discussion with senior members of the administration.

Strengthening American Society

The gathering reflected a broader initiative that has become an increasingly visible part of President Trump’s second administration. Established earlier this year, the White House Faith Office was created to strengthen partnerships between government and religious communities while advancing priorities that include protecting religious liberty, combating anti-Semitism, supporting Israel, expanding educational choice, defending parental rights, and working closely with faith-based organizations.

Throughout the afternoon, one message remained clear: the administration views faith communities as indispensable partners in American civic life.

The list of speakers reflected the importance the administration attached to the event. Border Czar Tom Homan opened the program, followed by Dr. Sebastian Gorka, Deputy Assistant to the President and Senior Director for Counterterrorism; Will Scharf, White House Staff Secretary; Jennifer Korn, Director of the White House Faith Office; Senior Advisor Paula White-Cain; Special Assistant to the President for Jewish Outreach Martin Marks; Deputy Assistant to the President and Deputy Communications Director Kaelan Dorr; and White House videographer Isaac Arpon. Although each approached the afternoon from a different area of responsibility, together they presented a common vision of the role that faith communities can play in strengthening American society.

Before accepting the invitation, I made a phone call that had nothing to do with travel arrangements or security clearances. The briefing was scheduled only days before Tisha B’Av, and I wanted my rabbi’s guidance. Without hesitation, he encouraged me to attend and gave me a heartfelt berachah that I should create a kiddush Hashem (glorification of Gd’s Name).

While I certainly appreciated the blessing at the time, it was only later that I understood its full significance.

I was staying at The Jefferson Hotel, just minutes from the White House complex. The trip to the meeting should have been uneventful, but my Uber driver made a wrong turn, and what should have been a brief ride became an increasingly anxious journey through Washington traffic. With every passing minute, I grew more concerned. This was not simply another meeting on my calendar. It was an invitation from the White House, and I was about to arrive late.

Fortunately, I remained in contact with members of the White House Faith Office while I was en route. They assured me they were aware of the delay and would notify security of my arrival.

After my identification and credentials were verified, the Secret Service, with its characteristic professionalism and precision, escorted me into the Eisenhower Executive Office Building.

I quietly opened the door, hoping to slip into the room unnoticed.

Instead, a member of the White House staff smiled, directed me to a seat in the front row, and within moments I was opening my notebook as Tom Homan addressed the room.

For much of America, Homan is known simply as the administration’s Border Czar, a figure whose name has become synonymous with one of the nation’s most fiercely debated policy issues. The man standing before us that afternoon, however, was not delivering a campaign speech or defending administration policy before television cameras. 

He was talking about children. He spoke about the victims of human trafficking and the responsibility he feels to protect them. Looking beyond his years in government, he reflected that even after leaving public office, he intends to continue searching for missing children because he believes that mission will never truly end. It was a deeply personal reminder that behind every policy debate are individual lives and families forever changed by tragedy.

As compelling as Tom Homan’s remarks were, they established a tone that would continue throughout the afternoon.

Personal Convictions

Each speaker addressed a different aspect of public service, yet an unmistakable thread connected them. Whether discussing national security, communications, Jewish outreach, or religious liberty, many spoke not only about the responsibilities of their office but also about the personal convictions that shaped how they approached their work.

Dr. Sebastian Gorka, Deputy Assistant to the President and Senior Director for Counterterrorism on the National Security Council, reflected on the national security challenges confronting the United States and the weight of the responsibility borne by those entrusted with protecting the country. His remarks served as a reminder that decisions made inside the White House often carry consequences extending far beyond Washington.

The afternoon was not without lighter moments.

Will Scharf, the White House Staff Secretary, whose office oversees the legal review and processing of executive orders, memoranda, and other official actions before they reach the President’s desk, recalled a White House Hanukah celebration where he had been asked to light the menorah and recite the blessings in Hebrew. When he finished, President Trump smiled and remarked, “I knew you were Jewish. I just didn’t know you were that Jewish.”

The room erupted in laughter.

Moments later, the atmosphere shifted. Scharf shared a more personal story from earlier in his life when he had hesitated to identify openly as Jewish. Someone noticed and quietly told him, “You are the apple of Gd’s eye.”

Those words, he explained, stayed with him.

From that day forward, he resolved to never again hide or diminish his Jewish identity.

Jennifer Korn, Director of the White House Faith Office, described the office’s mission of building meaningful partnerships with faith communities and ensuring their voices remain part of the national conversation. Rather than viewing faith leaders merely as outside stakeholders, she spoke of cultivating ongoing relationships built on dialogue and mutual trust.

Martin Marks, Special Assistant to the President for Jewish Outreach, discussed the administration’s continuing engagement with Jewish organizations across the country and the importance of maintaining an open dialogue with Jewish communities on issues of shared concern.

Paula White-Cain, Senior Advisor to the White House Faith Office and longtime spiritual advisor to President Trump, emphasized the unique role that houses of worship and faith-based organizations play in serving communities in ways government alone cannot. Kaelan Dorr, Deputy Assistant to the President and Deputy Communications Director, offered a behind-the-scenes look at communicating presidential priorities in an era shaped by social media, 24-hour news cycles, and constant public scrutiny.

Faith as a Calling

Although each speaker focused on a different area of responsibility, a common theme emerged. Faith was not presented as something separate from public service. Rather, it was described as one of the principles that inform it.

As I listened, it struck me that although each speaker had arrived by a different path, many expressed a remarkably similar conviction. They spoke of public service not merely as a profession, but as a calling. Whether one shares that belief or not, it was impossible not to notice how naturally and consistently it surfaced throughout the afternoon.

During a brief break in the program, I stepped into the hallway. Jennifer Korn and Paula White-Cain had just concluded their portion of the briefing and were making their way toward the elevator. We found ourselves walking together, and what began as a chance encounter quickly became an engaging conversation.

Throughout the afternoon, one theme had continued to resonate with me. Speaker after speaker had spoken naturally about faith. Not as a political slogan or carefully crafted messaging, but as something that genuinely shaped the way they viewed their responsibilities and their service.

I shared a concern that has occupied my thoughts for some time. A society cannot exist in a moral vacuum. When faith is pushed to the margins and history is forgotten, something else inevitably fills the void. Throughout history, we have seen ideologies rush to replace the moral foundations that once held societies together. In my view, many of the divisions we see today are rooted in that process.

Jennifer listened thoughtfully as we continued down the hallway. Although our conversation lasted only a few minutes before we reached the elevator, I appreciated the opportunity to exchange ideas beyond the formal presentations.

Influence as Currency

When I returned to the briefing room, another thought lingered. Throughout the afternoon I had heard discussions about national security, religious liberty, communications, Jewish outreach, and public policy. Yet another realization slowly emerged. In today’s world, influence has become a form of currency. The people invited into rooms like this often become the voices that policymakers, journalists, and the broader public come to associate with the Jewish community. As I looked around the room, I realized there was no one else representing the Orthodox Torah community.

That realization gave new meaning to the berachah my rabbi had given me before I left for Washington. Only then did I fully understand what he meant when he blessed me to create a kiddush Hashem.

A kiddush Hashem is not always made from behind a podium. More often, it is created quietly, by showing up prepared, listening carefully, speaking thoughtfully, and allowing others to encounter Torah Judaism through the integrity with which we live it.

When I returned to the briefing room, the formal program had concluded. Small groups of attendees lingered, introducing themselves, exchanging ideas, and continuing conversations that had begun during the presentations. It was a reminder that some of the most valuable moments at gatherings like these happen after the official agenda has ended.

I found myself speaking with several administration officials about an issue that has become increasingly important to me. Public policy and public perception are not the same thing. An administration may accomplish a great deal, but if those accomplishments are not communicated clearly and consistently, many Americans will never know about them. In today’s media environment, governing and communicating have become inseparable. Good policy deserves good communication.

The Ordinary Moments

Eventually the conversations came to an end, and it was time to leave. Earlier that morning, my husband and I had started the day together before going our separate ways in Washington. He spent the day at a medical conference while I attended the White House Faith Office briefing. That evening, as we drove home, I thought about how differently we had spent our day, yet how similar our purpose had been. He had devoted the day to advancing his knowledge so he could better serve his young patients. I had spent mine listening, learning, and participating in conversations about faith, public policy, and the concerns of the Jewish community.

My thoughts returned once again to the berachah my rabbi had given me before I left. This time, however, I understood it differently.

Most of us will never be invited to a White House briefing. Most of us will never sit across the table from senior administration officials or have the opportunity to discuss issues affecting our community. But every one of us will find ourselves in rooms where people know little about Torah Judaism. A boardroom. A classroom. A doctor’s office. A business meeting.  A neighborhood gathering. A conversation with a neighbor, a colleague, or a stranger. In those moments, whether we realize it or not, people are learning about Torah Judaism not from a book or a lecture, but from the person standing in front of them.

Perhaps that is what my rabbi understood all along.

A kiddush Hashem is rarely created in extraordinary moments. More often, it is created in ordinary ones. It is reflected in the way we speak, the way we listen, the respect we show others, and the integrity with which we conduct ourselves.

The White House briefing was a privilege. The greater privilege, however, is one that belongs to every one of us. Every day, Hashem places us in rooms where we have the opportunity to elevate His Name. The question is not whether those opportunities will come. The question is whether we will recognize them when they do.