Be Part of the Solution – Agunah Prevention

“Let my people go!” This refrain, introduced by Moshe in Egypt when he appealed to Pharaoh to liberate the Jewish people from bondage, has not only been referenced throughout Jewish history, but has been embraced by multiple peoples and cultures around the world in campaigns against injustice. In our time, I can vividly remember chanting, “let my people go!” as a child, together with thousands of others, as we rallied on behalf of Soviet Jewry.

Who would have ever dreamt that today, in the year 2013/5773, among the only people to whom we need to address the demand “let my people go,” are a small group of Jews themselves. Yes, even in our time there remain those shackled and in chains. I am referring to the tragic circumstances of Agunos.

In Talmudic times, the tragic status of Agunah was attained when a woman’s husband went off to war or on a faraway business trip and his whereabouts became unknown, leaving his wife’s status in question thereby preventing her from remarrying. More recently, this horrific reality has been cast upon women electively by their recalcitrant husbands who use the Get (Jewish divorce) as a weapon and tool to extort, manipulate, or just plain torture their wives.

Lest you think this is a rare phenomenon, a 2011 survey of agunos in the U.S. and Canada, co-sponsored by the Orthodox Union (OU), Organization for the Resolution of Agunot (ORA), Jewish Women International (JWI) and Jewish Orthodox Feminist Alliance (JOFA), identified 462 cases of Agunos between the years 2005 – 2010, most of whom were under 40 years old at the time they were placed in a holding pattern in life. The leadership of ORA confirms that though they have helped over 190 women attain a Get, at any given time they are working on 70 cases and that number is only growing.

For friends, community members, and even Rabbis, it sometimes seems easier to not get involved or take sides in what is usually a deeply emotional and often controversial conflict. However, the great Nobel laureate and Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel has taught us:

“Of course, indifference can be tempting — more than that, seductive. It is so much easier to look away from victims. It is so much easier to avoid such rude interruptions to our work, our dreams, our hopes. It is, after all, awkward, troublesome, to be involved in another person’s pain and despair. Yet, for the person who is indifferent, his or her neighbor are of no consequence. And, therefore, their lives are meaningless. Their hidden or even visible anguish is of no interest. Indifference reduces the other to an abstraction. In a way, to be indifferent to that suffering is what makes the human being inhuman. Indifference, after all, is more dangerous than anger and hatred.” (April 12, 1999 speech at The White House as part of the Millennium Lecture Series)

Indifference, apathy or not wanting to get involved are not Jewish concepts, particularly as they relate to those suffering from injustice. In many places the Torah explicitly calls upon us to protect, defend, and support the almanah, the widow. Rabbi Yaakov Zvi Mecklenburg, author of the Ksav V’Kabbalah (Parshas Mishpatim) explains that the Torah doesn’t limit this mitzvah to the widow, but expects it regarding all those who are vulnerable and tormented within our community. He explains that the world “almanah” comes from al-manah, missing a portion. The almanah is simply a symbol of those that are incomplete, missing something in their lives. Our mandate and our mission must be to protect and support them.

It is in this spirit that the Rabbinical Council of America (RCA), the professional organization of over 1,000 Orthodox Rabbis in North America, held a Yom Iyun this week, a day of study regarding the plight of Agunos. The day began with a talk by Rav Herschel Schachter on the Halachic parameters of applying social pressure to encourage a man to give his wife a Get. Rav Schachter serves as the Posek of ORA and has been courageously vocal and instrumental in advocating on behalf of women being held hostage by their husbands.

The second session contained a panel discussion including Rabbi Yonah Reiss, Dean of RIETS, Rabbi Eliyahu Teitz, member of the Beth Din of Elizabeth, NJ and Rabbi Shlomo Weissmann, Director of the Beth Din of America, regarding “Practical Considerations in Handling Divorce.” These experienced Dayanim (Rabbinic Judges) shared their experience and wisdom regarding at what point a woman is considered an Agunah, when is the appropriate time for a Get to be given, and how to balance the timing of the Get with the civil divorce. Most notably, they reminded us that once it is clear that a marriage will not continue, the giving of the Get in a timely fashion is an ethical imperative and from the Torah’s perspective, the absolutely right thing to do.

The third session was a panel discussion on “The Role of the Rabbi, Applying Communal Pressure.” I was honored to participate in this panel and share my experiences in working with our outstanding community in organizing rallies, utilizing social networking, and excluding those that refuse to grant their wives a Get. Most importantly, I tried to communicate the critical importance of being outspoken and taking advantage of the teachable moments by including our children and teenagers in advocacy and standing up to fight injustice. Even if we can’t always achieve the Get in a timely fashion, the community’s response clearly demonstrates our intolerance for the intolerable and sends a blunt message to all men within the community that withholding a Get is simply not an option. Moreover, the community’s vocal advocacy provides much needed comfort and support for the Agunah, who often otherwise feels alone, insignificant and even invisible.

My fellow panelist was Dean Michelle Greenberg-Kobrin, Dean of Students at Columbia Law School and Chair of the Board of ORA. Dean Greenberg-Kobrin shared legal considerations and guidelines for Rabbis and communities involving themselves in Agunah advocacy. She spoke passionately about isolating the Get from the other divorce considerations such as custody and division of assets and not conflating it with parallel disputes or negotiations.

While the first three sessions were for members of the RCA only, the evening session was open to the public. The audience heard from a courageous woman who had been an Agunah before finally receiving her Get with the help of ORA. Following her presentation, Dr. David Pelcovitz, a prominent psychologist and professor at the Azrieli School of Yeshiva University, shared research results on the psychological impact on Agunos, as well as the impact on their children who often suffer for years to come. Dr. Pelcovitz shared suggestions for how Rabbinic and community support can relieve the suffering and anguish in very real and measurable ways. The next presenter was Rabbi Jeremy Stern, the Executive Director of ORA. He described the work of ORA and delineated a number of ways ordinary citizens could get involved in advocacy on behalf of Agunos. Lastly, Rabbi Shmuel Goldin, Rabbi of Ahavath Torah in Englewood, NJ and President of the RCA offered our organization’s vision for improving Rabbinic efforts on this critically important issue.

We can and must do absolutely all that we can within normative halacha to put an end to the plight of Agunas and to prevent them from ever arising again. The Yom Iyun produced a number of initiatives towards that end that we intend to bring to our membership in a timely fashion:

Firstly, the RCA will continue to urge all of its members to refuse to officiate at weddings unless the Beth Din of America Halachic Prenup** is signed. Though the RCA is unable to force every member to use this particular document, we will suggest that every member be obligated to use a halachic prenuptial that would be acceptable to them, even if it simply delineates which Rabbinical Court the couple would turn to, should the need arise. The Beth Din of America reports that in every single dispute they have adjudicated between a couple that has irreconcilable differences and seeks divorce, if the Beth Din of America halachic prenuptial agreement was signed, the Get was delivered. Moreover, as recently as this February, an American Civil Court upheld the terms of the Beth Din of America Halachic Prenup, affirming the potency that it contains to solve this crisis, if only every single couple would sign one. ORA maintains that even a minimal prenuptial agreement will help in the vast majority of cases.

The RCA intends on establishing a network of Rabbis designated by region, who will serve as a resource and source of support for any Agunah who reaches out for their help, whether they are member of their community or not.

RCA members will be encouraged to place ORA’s literature in their Shuls and to promote ORA’s new campaign, “Friends don’t let friends get married without a halachic pre-nup.”

The RCA will encourage its members to host post-nuptial events in which already married couples who didn’t use a prenup are invited to sign halachic post-nuptials and thereby contribute to a culture in which all married couples from newlyweds to octogenarians have a halachic prenup in place.

The RCA will encourage its members to revisit their Shul’s bylaws and insert language that would not allow a man who has been instructed by a Beis Din to give his wife a Get and refuses to comply, to be a member or receive an honor.

Many wonder, some out loud and others to themselves, why can’t Rabbis simply create a solution to this problem? Do Rabbis not have the will to find a halachic way for women to go free? It is important to understand that those that who don’t embrace more radical halachic approaches to solve this issue are no less sympathetic, caring, or concerned for the plight of Agunos. The laws of personal status in general, and divorce in particular, are detailed and complex. Pushing a position rejected by the majority of the Torah community will only further isolate the woman who relies on it, instead of freeing her in a universally recognized fashion that will allow her to remarry in a manner that all will accept.

I don’t believe any of us can claim to understand why God would design His laws in such a way that allows a man to chain his wife in this cruel fashion. But it seems to me that rather than be paralyzed by our incomprehension or devote energy to solutions that will not gain traction broadly, let’s apply all of our focus to solutions that we believe will work effectively, each and every time.

I am proud to belong to the RCA, an organization that has placed the issue of Agunos on its lists of priorities. With the leadership of our members and the partnership of our communities, we can collectively stand up and say “let my people go,” thereby achieving the freedom that everybody deserves.

**See www.theprenup.org Each spouse agrees to appear before a panel of Jewish law judges (dayanim) arranged by the Beth Din of America, if the other spouse demands it, and to abide by the decision of the Beth Din with respect to the get. If the couple separates, the Jewish law obligation of the husband to support his wife is formalized, so that he is obligated to pay $150 per day (indexed to inflation), from the date he receives notice from her of her intention to collect that sum, until the date a Jewish divorce is obtained. This support obligation ends if the wife fails to appear at the Beth Din of America or to abide by a decision of the Beth Din of America.

Each of these provisions is important to ensure that a get is given by the husband to his wife in a timely manner following the functional end of a marriage. The first obligation grants authority to the rabbinical court to oversee the get process. The second obligation provides an incentive for the husband to abide by decisions of the rabbinical court, and give a get to his wife once the marriage is over and there is no hope of reconciliation.

Giving Comfort: The Ring Theory

Over the last couple of years, a few YouTube videos were made mocking the sometimes stupid and foolish things that people say when visiting the sick or comforting the mourner. Things like, “I know someone who had the same sickness as you. They suffered terribly and died after a short time. I hope that doesn’t happen to you.” Or, “sorry for the loss of your child; at least you have other healthy children that you should be grateful for.” I know of one woman who shared with her family and friends a list she had compiled of the top ten moronic things people said to her when she was sitting shiva.

Clearly, the people who uttered those imprudent and thoughtless expressions meant no harm and indeed would be horrified to learn that they had compounded pain rather than relieved it. Rather than stemming from malice, I suspect that these comments are the result of an earnest desire to be comforting and yet feeling at a loss for the right thing to say.

Susan Silk, a clinical psychologist, recently wrote an op-ed for the LA Times in which she shared her fantastic “Ring Theory” for helping people in crisis:

“Draw a circle. This is the center ring. In it, put the name of the person at the center of the current trauma. Now draw a larger circle around the first one. In that ring put the name of the person next closest to the trauma. Repeat the process as many times as you need to. In each larger ring put the next closest people. Parents and children before more distant relatives. Intimate friends in smaller rings, less intimate friends in larger ones. When you are done you have a Kvetching Order. One of [my] patients found it useful to tape it to her refrigerator.

Here are the rules. The person in the center ring can say anything she wants to anyone, anywhere. She can kvetch and complain and whine and moan and curse the heavens and say, “Life is unfair” and “Why me?” That’s the one payoff for being in the center ring.

Everyone else can say those things too, but only to people in larger rings. When you are talking to a person in a ring smaller than yours, someone closer to the center of the crisis, the goal is to help. Listening is often more helpful than talking. But if you’re going to open your mouth, ask yourself if what you are about to say is likely to provide comfort and support. If it isn’t, don’t say it. Don’t, for example, give advice. People who are suffering from trauma don’t need advice. They need comfort and support. So say, “I’m sorry” or “This must really be hard for you” or “Can I bring you a pot roast?” Don’t say, “You should hear what happened to me” or “Here’s what I would do if I were you.” And don’t say, “This is really bringing me down.”

If you want to scream or cry or complain, if you want to tell someone how shocked you are or how icky you feel, or whine about how it reminds you of all the terrible things that have happened to you lately, that’s fine. It’s a perfectly normal response. Just do it to someone in a bigger ring.

Comfort IN, dump OUT.”

The Ring Theory is a brilliant prescription for how best to interact with someone going through a crisis. It captures something we intuitively know yet too often fail to practice. In fact, it probably should be posted on hospital room doors and entrances to shiva homes.

However, for all of its brilliance, the Ring Theory takes something for granted that, unfortunately, is not a given at all. The theory provides guidance for those choosing to engage. But ask anyone who has gone through a crisis and he will tell you, the majority of people in his life didn’t comfort or dump, neither in nor out. They simply disappeared.

Yes, at the moment of crisis, family, friends and community often rise to the occasion. True, funerals and shivas are often well-attended, hospital rooms and ICU’s get lots of visitors, and parties to divorce get invitations the first few weeks following the separation. But what happens when the acute crises passes? How present are we in the lives of those we claim to care deeply about when the urgency subsides and the catastrophe dissipates?

As time goes on, without consciously intending to, many take an “out of sight, out of mind” approach, leaving the afflicted person feeling forgotten, neglected, insignificant and alone. What the “Ring Theory” doesn’t account for is that doing nothing and staying silent towards someone struggling with illness, loss, divorce or unemployment can be more painful than saying or doing the wrong thing. An insensitive comment is hurtful, but at least it communicates an attempt to connect and comfort. Silence and neglect, however, leave a person feeling invisible, that she doesn’t matter, and that friends think that her problems are contagious and transmittable.

Nobody suffered more than Iyov (Job). The response of his friends is very instructive and in fact is codified in Jewish law. The book of Iyov describes that as he suffered profoundly, his friends silently comforted him. Isn’t that an oxymoron? If they remained silent, where was the comfort? The answer is simple: their mere presence communicated much more at a louder decibel level than anything they could have possibly said. In fact, Iyov’s suffering was so inexplicable and incomprehensible that there was nothing meaningful to offer at all. Had they opened their mouths, they likely would have provided great material for a YouTube video. It is for this reason that Jewish law requires us to remain silent until the mourner speaks first. Moreover, even once we speak, the Rambam cautions us not to be talkative or loquacious lest we say the wrong thing or set the wrong tone with our words.

Sadly, there are many in our community suffering from illness, loss and other sources of pain. Simply put – they rely on us, their friends and community to care enough to enter the Ring. Perhaps we will be towards the center of the circle, or maybe we will be in one of the outside concentric rings. But the worst thing we could do is to disappear from the picture all together.

Reach out, visit, send a text, spontaneously drop off flowers or a Challah, invite for a meal, or just let them know that you pray for them, think about them, and empathize with them. Find the important balance between showing up and providing them necessary space.

If you would like to find out more about how you could get involved with Bikur Cholim or Chesed in our community, don’t hesitate to be in touch with me, Rabbi Moskowitz or Linda in my office.

Let’s do all we can to make sure that these videos have no sequel because we have learned how to comfort IN, dump OUT and that sometimes our silent presence is the greatest comfort of all.

State of the Rabbinate

“So, when are the skeletons in your closet going to emerge? When is your scandal going to break, Rabbi?” These were the questions I was asked by a friend after a week in which three major Rabbinic scandals came to light. Over just a few days, it was discovered that the Chief Rabbi of a European country had fabricated his PhD in addition to having plagiarized extensively in his writings. Then the rabbinic head of a kashrus organization was accused of participating in lewd and lascivious behavior and frequenting establishments of ill-repute.

Lastly, and most shockingly, a well-known scholar, author, rabbinic judge, professor, and former pulpit rabbi acknowledged having created at least one pseudonym under which he had been publishing, writing critical letters to journals, and promoting himself for close to 20 years. Most egregiously, he confirmed that he had used the alter ego to gain access to, and participate in, a rabbinic organization’s private message board.

My friend simply articulated what undoubtedly many are thinking – are there any rabbis left whom we can respect? Do all rabbis have skeletons in their closet and scandals just waiting to break? What has become of the Rabbinate?

The combination of scandals, coupled with my friend’s question, has weighed on me heavily. Much more than respect, for a rabbi to be effective and successful he needs the trust of those whom he serves. If people feel the rabbi is not trustworthy, faithful, confidential, or honorable, they will not turn to him for support, guidance or influence, all critical components of his job and calling. The question, then, is what can be done to earn trust, confidence, and support, besides simply staying out of trouble?

I recently had the privilege of addressing the members of Yeshiva University’s prestigious Kollel Elyon at Dr. Lamm’s monthly lunch with them. I shared with them a message I have shared with every young rabbi I have interacted with: take what you do seriously, but never take yourself too seriously.

It is very easy for rabbis to begin to take themselves too seriously and to believe somehow that they are more important, their opinions matter more, and they deserve more respect and honor than anyone else. There is an expression I hear regularly and I shudder each and every time it is said to me. “Rabbi, thank you for taking the time to call me back,” or “thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I know how valuable your time is.” I always respond the same way: “My time is no more valuable than yours and calling you back or meeting with you is exactly how I want to be spending it.”

Many rabbis hear about how valuable their time is and they start to believe it. They therefore leave people waiting, stand them up, and fail to call them or email them back in a timely fashion. People come to rabbis with their problems and the expectation that the rabbi can solve them. This phenomenon can leave the rabbi feeling like he has the answers and access to all of the solutions and he is all powerful.

With all the heartache, complaints, and gossip about him and his family, the truth is that the rabbi also gets a lot of kavod (honor). People stand for him when he enters and wait for him until he is done for certain parts of davening. He has access to dignitaries and elected officials, he stands in front of the room each week sharing his sermon to an audience eager for his thoughts, and newspapers may call him for his opinion.

The bottom line is that it is extremely easy for all of this to go to a rabbi’s head and for him to start believing the hype. One of the most disappointing parts of the Rabbinate, I told the young group of rabbis at YU, is meeting the other members of the rabbinate, many of whom are arrogant, egotistical, self-absorbed and self-important.

Our job as Rabbis is to understand and accept the awesome responsibility of answering halachik questions, providing guidance and advice regarding issues ranging from life and death to mundane, and showing up when people need us most such as during life cycle events, times of illness, struggle, or loneliness. Our mission as leaders is to articulate a vision for our community and to implement the necessary steps to achieving it.

My message to those young rabbis was one that I try to remind myself of every single day – Take what you do seriously and not yourself too seriously. Your time is no more valuable than anyone else’s. You are not perfect, you have faults, you make mistakes, and you don’t have all of the answers and solutions to any given problem.

Make sure to have a Rebbe, a mentor and teacher to bounce ideas off of and to push back if you are pushing the envelope too far. I once asked a prominent rabbi who regularly expresses ideas, and authors articles and books that push the boundaries of tradition, “who is your Rebbe, your teacher that you rely on to give you feedback?” He had a blank look on his face and said, “I have never really thought about that.”

If you are blessed to be married, make sure that your Rebbetzin understands that part of her role is to keep you grounded. Walking out of the White House last year from the meeting I was privileged to participate in with the President, my phone rang and it was my wife. She asked how it went and after I filled her in, she said, “That’s nice. Listen, don’t forget tomorrow is garbage day and when you get home from meeting the President, you need to take out the garbage.”

Some rabbis think that as events unfold the world is waiting for their interpretation, their opinion, or elucidation. This phenomenon expresses itself in sermons on politics or current events, but even more disturbingly by rabbis with online profiles who post things such as “I’ll have a post about X soon. Stay tuned,” or “You should really read my blog. I have a post about that,” or “Jews of the Internet, this is a *huge* story. I will read carefully over Shabbat and write up my thoughts after.”

There are an ever-increasing number of rabbis on the web who write opinion pieces on everything occurring in the Jewish and non-Jewish world before it is even done happening or the facts are clear. They measure their effectiveness by the amount of comments, likes, or followers they receive, rather than the offline personal relationships they are building or the lives they are influencing in a meaningful, substantive way. The real role of a rabbi is empathy, compassion, and showing up in person, not online.

After the recent tragedy that occurred in our community, a number of people commented, “Being a rabbi is really difficult, I don’t know how you do it.” What is amazing is that I feel the exact opposite. Watching people go through pain or suffer a loss and not be in a position to help, support or make a difference must be really difficult. The rabbinate is the greatest gift for me, for it provides an outlet to try to make a difference in people’s lives and absolutely nothing could be more fulfilling.

Despite the many rabbinic scandals that have broken lately, I implore you to continue to have faith in the rabbinate. I am proud of my colleagues that are l’shem Shomayim (for the sake of Heaven) and dedicate their lives to being caring, concerned, honest, honorable and of service. Though I am far from perfect, (some of you take the liberty to remind me from time to time) I hope you will continue to trust me. I am thankful each and every day that you allow me to have the greatest job in the world.

Finding Strengths We Didn’t Know We Have

The moment Shoshie Stern’s extended family heard about her tragic passing, they dropped whatever they were doing and made their way to South Florida to be here with their family. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins all descended upon the Stern home to shed a tear and lend a shoulder.

Shoshie’s recent 12th birthday was certainly celebrated and marked by her immediate family, however a Bat Mitzvah party in her honor had not yet been planned. Coordinating everyone’s schedule proved a formidable challenge. When this grandparent could come, the other couldn’t be there. When this aunt and uncle where free, others already had commitments.

The other night, Shoshie’s mom, Denise, looked around the room filled with family and friends and remarked to Yocheved, “It’s such a shame, in the end everyone found a way to all be here together. I only wish it was for a simcha.”

Whenever I am asked for advice about traveling to attend a family simcha when it is inconvenient, ill-timed, or expensive, I always say the same thing. If it were a funeral would you find a way to go? If we would drop what we are doing and make extraordinary efforts to be there for a tragedy, why not take those same measures to be there to celebrate a simcha? Life is way too short, the future is too unknown. Take advantage of every single opportunity to be with family in moments of joy before needing to be there for moments of grief and sadness.

The truth is that often it takes tragedy to draw out of us latent potential that should have been realized way before. Shoshie’s passing brought together our entire community with a sense of unity, the likes of which I have never felt. Rabbi Rabovsky, Rabbi Gibber, and I worked incredibly closely and intensely to plan, coordinate and organize all that needed to be done. The over-1,000 people in attendance came from all three Shuls. The students who came that day attend a variety of different schools. Yet for those few hours we stood together, members of an integrated and united community, undivided as one.

Surely it shouldn’t take the death of a 12-year-old girl to bring us all together. Surely there are events, programs, commemorations, or speakers for which we can gather even more people with a sense of unity and cohesiveness. Why must it take tragedy to make us feel as one?

Earlier this week, the bombing at the Boston Marathon shook our entire nation. As we watched fellow Americans mourn and grieve, we all felt their pain, identified with their fear, and associated with their anger. All over social media people simply said, “Today, we are all Bostonians.” Indeed, even the Red Sox’ arch rivals, the Yankees, hung a sign outside their stadium with the team logos side by side and the words “United We Stand.”

Why should it take three deaths and hundreds of injuries for us to feel a sense of patriotism, wherever we may live? Why should it take a city under siege for every American to feel a sense of kinship and affiliation with one another? Why should it take graphic images of death and injury to feel a sense of empathy and concern for other human beings?

When the bombs went off at the finish line, remarkably, there were people who ran towards the smoke instead of away from it in order to see how they could help. In doing so they risked their lives not knowing if there would be any further explosions. They did so instinctively and intuitively out of an incredible sense of wanting to help. In another display of resolve and determination, there were individuals who, after completing the 26.2-mile marathon, ran another 2 miles to the hospital to donate blood.

The Ramban writes that the purpose of a nisayon, a test, is to help bring our latent potential into reality (ko’ach el ha’poel). When backed into a corner, pressed against the wall or in a terrible bind, we find capacity that we had never fully realized before and may not have even known we have. Just last week in Oregon, two teenage girls saved their father’s life when they lifted a 3,000-pound tractor off their father’s chest. If asked to lift a tenth of that, they likely would say it’s impossible. However, when faced with no other option, they discovered strength they never knew they had.

Let’s not wait for another tragedy to find abilities we could employ now. Let’s not wait for a family funeral to travel, when we could see our family at the next simcha, even if it means extending ourselves. Let’s commit to come together as a greater community with a sense of unity, for no other reason than simply because we should. Let’s not wait to be tested in order to realize the strengths that we have all along.

Say Little, Do Much

News of President Carter receiving an award from Yeshiva University’s Cardozo School of Law broke last week and the Internet lit up immediately. Graduates of the law school, graduates of Yeshiva University, and concerned pro-Israel advocates were outraged, incensed, and bewildered. How could the subsidiary of a Jewish University, the sister school of a Yeshiva, bestow an honor on a man who is blatantly and consistently anti-Israel? Alan Dershowitz, upon hearing about the award, put it best. “Carter has prevented peace, encouraged terrorism, and done more than anyone else to isolate and demonize the Middle East’s only democracy, Israel.”

After Cardozo made the official announcement, an uproar ensued. Some graduates reacted immediately to form the Coalition of Concerned Cardozo Alumni and even set up a Web site, shameoncardozo.com, declaring their outrage to the law school’s board of overseers. The controversy grabbed headlines in every Jewish newspaper, on blogs, in Israel, and even in the New York Times. The pro-Israel community expressed indignation, some going so far as to challenge YU’s commitment to Israel.

President Richard Joel soon after released a statement clarifying: “President Carter’s invitation to Cardozo represents solely the initiative of this student journal, not of Yeshiva University or the Benjamin N. Cardozo Law School.” He continued, “While he [Carter] has been properly lauded for his role in the Camp David Accords of 1978, I strongly disagree with many of President Carter’s statements and actions in recent years which have mischaracterized the Middle East conflict and have served to alienate those of us who care about Israel. President Carter’s presence at Cardozo in no way represents a university position on his views, nor does it indicate the slightest change in our steadfastly pro-Israel stance.” He concluded by saying that Yeshiva “both celebrates and takes seriously its obligation as a university to thrive as a free marketplace of ideas, while remaining committed to its unique mission as a proud Jewish university.”

The Anti-Defamation League and The Simon Wiesenthal Center blasted the students’ decision and described it as the result of gross ignorance. When it became clear that the event would take place despite the opposition, the rhetoric escalated. The Forward quoted one alumnus as saying that a dozen or so alumni would attempt to block Carter physically from receiving the award. Dershowitz said it should be turned into “an educational experience” by students handing out leaflets challenging Carter’s record or by having the University invite “someone like myself” to debate Carter. “He should be made to regret that he ever agreed to accept the award,” Dershowitz said. In the days before the award was to be given, tensions ran high as calls were issued for protests and rallies in opposition to Carter.

Well, the award ceremony took place this past Wednesday. About 250 Cardozo students gathered as the Journal of Conflict Resolution bestowed its International Advocate for Peace prize on Carter. Did President Joel, Yeshiva University and Cardozo Law School do the right thing in allowing the award to go forward? To be honest, it’s debatable. There is merit to both sides of the argument. On the one hand, as a University, it must honor academic freedom. On the other, every University will draw a line around the freedom they provide students before they run interference or even veto their decisions.

While those things are debatable, there is one thing that is not. The greatest indictment and biggest source of shame for our Jewish community this week came, in my opinion, not from YU, but from the deafening silence from of all those who made blustering promises to make sure Carter knows how we feel about him and then failed to show up at all.

Members of the media arrived at the event expecting to be greeted by hundreds or thousands of protesters carrying placards calling out Carter for his anti-Israel positions or handing out leaflets. How many so called pro-Israel activists did they find? Not one. With hundreds of thousands of pro-Israel Jews living in the tri-state area, absolutely no one showed up to protest Carter.

Haaretz journalist Chemi Shalev was on the scene and tweeted, “Anti-Carter protestors are a no-show at Cardozo award scene. Not even one.” He followed up, “Other than a few pro-Carterites and one foul-mouthed anti-Semite, all quiet as students fill into Cardozo hall for Carter ceremony.” In a story following the event, Aryeh Younger quotes Ben Winter, a senior at Yeshiva College, who claims that YU’s students are ultimately unwilling to physically volunteer themselves for pro-Israel causes. “While many students at YU feel strongly about their Zionism, few have the courage to publicly express their opinions,” he said.

I am shocked, stunned, and profoundly disappointed by the conclusion of this story. Sadly, it seems the postscript to the Carter event is that the Jewish community is much better at expressing criticism, condemnation, outrage, and castigation, than actually doing something about that which they bemoan.

Apparently, that wasn’t always the case. Yishai Fleisher recalled his time in Cardozo as a student when the very same journal awarded Archbishop Desmond Tutu, a Holocaust denier, the same exact prize. “We had an amazing protest in the lobby of the law school, with placards detailing Tutu’s opinions. As Tutu walked by he was booed by many students who had joined CHAI’s loud and proud protest. Tutu had egg on his face, and I am not certain that the prize he received from the Journal of Conflict Resolution was worth the embarrassment for him. He certainly did not look happy.”

Perhaps Cardozo was wrong not to rescind the invitation. But once that decision was made, a tremendous opportunity presented itself. Imagine the impact on Carter and his legacy if indeed he had to walk past thousands of protesters vocally challenging his anti-Israel positions. Imagine the debate that could have resulted in the secular media evaluating Carter’s true legacy on Israel. Imagine how Carter might have been forced to think twice next time he was going to meet with the leadership of Hamas or describe Israel as an apartheid state.

Instead, because of our people’s complacency, laziness, indifference, or busy-ness, Carter left the event with his head held high and the clear impression that his positions are not reprehensible enough to elicit even one protestor.

Woody Allen once famously said, “80 percent of success is showing up.” Unfortunately, 100 percent of the people failed to show up this past Wednesday outside of Cardozo Law School. Whether in NY, Florida or anywhere in the world, the likelihood is we will be called upon to show up in support of Israel, rather than simply criticize from the comfort of our couch.

Our Rabbis teach us, “emor m’at, v’asei harbeh, say little and do much.” This sad, small chapter unfortunately displayed the opposite. Sefiras Ha’Omer is a time to not only count days, but also to make sure our days count. Let’s not just talk a big game; let’s make a big difference.

Pursuit of Other People’s Happiness

The Declaration of Independence grants us freedom and liberty, incredible blessings that we benefit from every single day while living in this great country. Interestingly, the emphasis is on a liberty that allows for the pursuit of happiness. Indeed, the capacity to serve our own interests, pursue our own needs and satisfy our own happiness is a critical component of freedom and one that we must never take for granted.

However, as we continue to celebrate Pesach and with it the Jewish notion of freedom, it occurs to me that our tradition places a different emphasis on how freedom is to be channeled.

“Kol dichfin yeisei v’yeichol – all who are hungry let them come and eat.” We begin the Seder by expressing an invitation to anyone who needs. Before we indulge in an evening celebrating our emancipation and triumph, we must give thought to those that don’t have. The invitation seems disingenuous as we are already seated at our tables with the doors and windows closed and nobody to hear us. Many explain that the purpose of the invitation is as much about the people already seated and their need to express graciousness as it is about hosting an indigent individual.

In our tradition, freedom means the pursuit of other people’s happiness. Freedom means the ability to make choices that can positively and meaningfully impact others. A slave cannot share, donate or host. When we are stingy, self centered, and unwilling to share with others, we electively become enslaved. When we generously share what we have with others, we attain the highest levels of freedom.

Perhaps that is why there is a great association between giving and Pesach. The halacha demands that we provide four cups of wine for every Jew, no matter what their economic status. Thirty days before the holiday, we have a custom of donating to ma’os chittim, the fund to provide food and necessities for those in need.

One of the highest levels of giving is doing so anonymously. One truly sets oneself free when they give with no expectation in return. This year, I was approached in a number of remarkable ways that are worth sharing. In each of these instances, the person was not solicited, but simply on their own wanted to have an impact on others.

Someone showed up at my office with ten pounds of hand made shmurah matzah to be distributed to those that can’t afford to buy on their own.

Another individual came with twenty-five $50 gift cards to Kosher Marketplace to be given out to those that need.

A few families contacted the Shul to let us know they have room at their Sedarim and if anyone needs a place they are happy to host them.

Two separate people called to tell us that they would sponsor someone who can’t afford to go to the Shul Seder, but needs a place to go.

Someone gave money specifically to purchase new shoes and clothing for the children of families currently on Tomchei Shabbos.

These ordinary acts of chesed are truly extraordinary. But chesed is not limited to those that lack financially. Any one of us can find ourselves in a position of needing someone else’s chesed. On Chol Ha’Moed, my family and I spent one afternoon in a local fun park. At the end of an exhausting few hours of fantastic rides and fun, we made our way back to our car. There was only one problem. I reached into my pocket and there was no car key.

Thank God everyone remained calm and I decided to walk back into the park on the off chance that I would find my key. I traced my steps back inside, but no luck. I walked up to the ticket counter wanting to ask if they have a lost and found, but before I could even get the words out of mouth, the young man held up a key and said, “Are you looking for this?”

Overjoyed, I took the key and asked the guy if he knew who turned it in or where they found it. He thought for a moment and said, “nope, don’t remember, just some guy stopped by and handed it in.” Whoever saw my key could have just as easily ignored it and kept walking, or worse, taken it to the parking lot to see if he could find the car it would open. Instead, some anonymous person whose identity I will never know did what for him was a small favor, but what for me was a game changer.

Freedom means the ability to pursue other people’s happiness and to bring joy to those around us. Let’s embrace our freedom and use it to help others. In the end, few things can bring you yourself greater happiness.

A Bold Suggestion For Your Seder This Year

If your Seder looks anything like the typical one, you likely have young kids fighting over giving every single Dvar Torah they prepared in school, adults offering technical and complicated vortelach (Torah thoughts), someone napping on the couch due to drinking the four cups too zealously, and more than one woman complaining that they spent most of the Seder in the kitchen and missed the whole thing.

Is this an authentic picture of what the Rabbis really had in mind when they instituted an evening with family and friends designed to nostalgically recall the miracle of leaving Egypt and our journey to freedom? I think not!

It is abundantly clear from countless sources that the purpose of the evening is not simply to ramble through the text of the Haggadah, or to compete for who has the most to say. The entire format of the Seder supports the goal of the evening, which is, at its core, to simply have a conversation.

Indeed, Rav Chaim Soloveitchik suggests that this format is what differentiates the mitzvah to speak about Yetzias Mitzrayim (the exodus) on Seder night, from the mitzvah to remember it every single day. The rest of the year we lecture, teach, and tell Divrei Torah about leaving Egypt. Seder night, we have a conversation about the experience in the form of questions and answers, give and take, dialogue and discussion. Indeed, so many of the peculiar practices of the evening are done just so that the children will be curious, ask and ignite a conversation.

I would like to offer a bold suggestion this year – consider asking your children to put away their Haggadahs for part of the Seder or to only bring one of the two. The teachers of our community do an extraordinary job in preparing our students. The creativity, ingenuity and hard work that goes into designing the beautiful, personalized Haggadahs, and filling them with Torah thoughts is a testament to the dedication of our outstanding Rebbeim, Morahs, and teachers. We should welcome their incredible Haggadahs at our Seder table, but in moderation. If not, these Haggadahs can become a source of distraction and even worse, a source of friction when each of our children feel an obligation to read every single thought on every single page of their Haggadah at the Seder.

Of course we should spend time sitting with each child, looking through their Haggadah, listening to their Divrei Torah, and appreciating their enthusiasm. Perhaps we can dedicate time on Erev Pesach or on Yom Tov afternoon to look at their Haggadahs more in depth and to hear the thoughts that didn’t make it into the Seder itself. But, if we want our children to get the most out of our Seder experience, it can’t just be a presentation of what they learned in school.

The Seder must be a time to have conversations that matter, and discussions that can be transformative and provide inspiration that lasts the entire year. These conversations can happen with children and adults of all ages. Young kids should be engaged in storytelling in a real and personal way.

We must turn to our children and grandchildren and tell them the riveting story of how we used to be slaves, do backbreaking labor, and then we were freed through miracles. With older children and adults, the conversations should be more sophisticated. I would like to suggest a few examples of how the Seder can be a platform for great conversations.

Here are some thought-provoking questions that you can share Seder night to generate the kind of rigorous and robust discussions that our Rabbis imagined us having:

Ha Lachma Anya: Why do we begin the Seder specifically by inviting the underprivileged to join us? Is there a connection between freedom and sharing with others?

Avadim Hayinu: What is slavery and what is freedom? Though we are physically free, are there things and behaviors we are enslaved to? Does technology give us greater freedom or enslave us?

Four sons: Which child do you identify with? Is the Rasha really so wicked if at least he comes to the Seder? What about the hypothetical 5th son who doesn’t even show? Are the eino yodei’ah lish’ol (don’t know how to ask) the unaffiliated of our generation, and how do we engage them?

V’hi she’amdah: Who are the enemies of our generation that seek to destroy us, and can we identify miracles Hashem does to protect us? What is the root of Anti-Semitism and why have we always had enemies that seek our destruction?

Arami Oveid Ami: We became a nation when living among the Egyptians. Is living in a land of freedom good or bad for Judaism? Has the freedom of this great country, America, contributed positively or negatively to the continuity of Torah Judaism?

Ten Plagues: Can you think of a situation where you felt stuck and Hashem bailed you out? Are there miracles in your life in which you saw the guiding hand of Hashem?

Dayenu: What does it mean to have the capacity to say enough? Are we ever satisfied or do we always crave more?

Hallel: What are you thankful for and why? Tell stories of personal freedom and liberation.

These are just a few examples, but there are countless more conversations to be had on Seder night. Even if you disregard my earlier suggestion and insist on listening to every single Dvar Torah your child brings home, I urge you to be sure to make time to tell stories, ask questions, and have critical conversations.

When all is said and done, the Seder is intended to be an exercise in Emunah (faith). If we walk away from the Seder and we have not grown in seeing Hashem in our lives, and feeling a connection and closeness to Him, we have failed in our mission. Make sure to have the kind of Seder that will leave friends and family wanting to come back for more of your good food and great company, but most of all for your incredible and inspiring conversations.

Don’t Wait Until it Is Too Late

There are few things more challenging and uncomfortable than sitting at the bedside of a dying person and attempting to offer some sense of comfort and calm. What do you say to someone who is about to leave this world? How do you reassure him about where he is going or try to convince her that everything is going to be alright? What do you respond when they say, “I am scared and frightened,” or “I am not ready for this”?

We are very fortunate that Jewish tradition provides a script and a structure to help us guide someone as he is about to embark on this extraordinary transition and journey. In the last few weeks alone, I have found myself at three bedsides reciting viduy, the deathbed confession, with individuals who, soon after, left this world. In some cases, the terminally ill patient was not conscious or awake and I simply read it on his behalf. In other circumstances, the viduy was read at the end of a heartfelt, meaningful, and powerful conversation.

Viduy provides the opportunity to get our spiritual affairs in order. I have never sat at a bedside and heard anyone regret not working longer hours or give her family instructions about physical or material endeavors. However, almost every bedside I have sat at did include a conversation about the topic of regrets and how to make sure we don’t have any when it is time to say goodbye.

The text of viduy deals with our relationship with the Almighty and expresses our sincere apology and regret if or when we have failed Him in our lives. Viduy lets us pass from this world to the next feeling whole in our relationship with our Creator. But just as important is the unscripted part of viduy in which we reach out to anyone with whom we may have a rift and seek reconciliation and healing. Viduy provides an opportunity to both ask for forgiveness, as well as grant it, so that we can go on our journey without being weighed down by spiritual baggage.

As I reflected on the bedside viduy experiences I have had of late, I can’t help but think of my own mortality and the importance of not having regrets. Hearing about “what could have been,” or “what didn’t have to be,” is a stark reminder that we need not wait until our deathbed to get our affairs in order. There is no better time to heal, reconcile, and repair damaged relationships, than the present.

Consider the following contrasting stories from this week. One headline I read says, “Decades-old Family Rift Ends with a Phone Call – American Relatives No Longer Know Why a Prewar Dispute Divided Siblings Across Continents and Decades.” It is incredible to think that generations in a family didn’t speak to each other, and nobody can even remember why. If the subject of the dispute wasn’t even worth remembering, was it really worth dividing a family for generations?

In contrast, you have likely heard the tragic story of a young Chassidic couple, Nachman and Raizy Glauber, who were killed in a hit-and-run accident on Sunday in NY. Raizy was six months pregnant with their first son, who died Monday, a day after being delivered. Later this week, a letter emerged that Nachman had written to his parents on his wedding day to express his gratitude for all that they had done to bring him to that day. Here is the letter translated from Yiddish:

To my dear parents:

In these imminent joyous and highly spiritual moments of my life, when I’m heading to my chupa to begin my own family, I feel a sting in my heart that I’m already leaving your warm home.

I feel an obligation to thank you for everything you did for me since I was a small child. You did not spare time, energy and money, whether it was when I needed a private tutor to learn or an eye doctor or general encouragement. Also, later on, you helped me to succeed in my Torah studies, you sent me to yeshiva to learn your values, religious and worldly, until I reached to this current lucky moment.

Even though I’m leaving your home (actually I’m not leaving, I’m bringing in an additional family member) I want to tell you that all the education and values you taught me I’ll – with God’s help — take along with me in my new home, and continue to plant the same education in my home and kids that God will grant me.

But since kids do not grasp what parents are, and how much they do for them, and only when he matures and – with God’s help — have their own kids, they could realize it. And unfortunately I may have caused you a lot of pain; I am asking you to please forgive me.

I’m asking you, I’m dependent on your prayers, pray for me and my bride, and I will pray for you.

I pray to God that Daddy and Mommy should see lots of pride and delight from me and my special bride, until the final redemption of the Messiah.

From your son who admires and thanks you and will always love you.

Nachman.

One family inherited a decades-old fight while another was reminded of a precious letter filled with love, communicated during the prime of their son’s life, simply because he wanted them to know how he felt.

Let’s not wait until it is too late. You don’t need to be saying viduy on your deathbed to repair relationships, communicate with those you love, or get your spiritual affairs in order. Take a lesson from Nachman Glauber and do it today.

The Foolishness of Triumphalism

Earlier this week, I was invited to speak at a Synagogue in Boynton Beach on the subject of “A Vision for Orthodoxy in the Next One Hundred Years.” I began by telling the assembled group that I wasn’t even sure what was happening next week and was certainly not so presumptuous to assume I could predict what will happen in the next century. Nevertheless, I shared my observations and thoughts regarding the state of the Jewish Community today, as well as some concerns and hopes for the years ahead.

At the end of the session, during the questions and answers period, the following question was posed: given the challenges that the Reform and Conservative movements are facing, should the Orthodox community celebrate and feel triumphant?

The answer is obvious and clear, I explained, for two reasons. Firstly, if indeed Reform and Conservative are losing numbers, it is not because their membership is fleeing to Orthodoxy. Rather, it is because those individuals and families have decided that belonging to a Synagogue and identifying with the Jewish community is no longer a priority or a value. There is absolutely nothing to celebrate about more Jews becoming assimilated and potentially intermarrying.

As Rav Aharon Lichtenstein once wrote (Tradition, Spring 1982):

“Nor do I share the glee some feel over the prospective demise of the competition. Surely, we have many sharp differences with the Conservative and Reform movements, and these should not be sloughed over or blurred. However, we also share many values with them – and this, too, should not be obscured. Their disappearance might strengthen us in some respects, but would unquestionably weaken us in others. And of course, if we transcend our own interests and think of the people currently served by these movements – many of them, both presently and potentially, well beyond our reach or ken – how would they, or klal Yisrael as a whole, be affected by such a change? Can anyone responsibly state that it is better for a marginal Jew in Dallas or Dubuque to lose his religious identity altogether rather than drive to his temple?”

There is a second reason that it is grossly inappropriate to feel triumphant. The Orthodox community needs to hold a mirror to ourselves and ask: are we indeed doing so well that we can afford to feel triumphant? True, we are blessed to have many successes. But, at the same time, we face many challenges. The lack of religious and spiritual inspiration among our youth, the continued practice of sinas chinam (baseless hatred), the failure of an Observant lifestyle to automatically create a more ethical, kind, compassionate, honest and moral lifestyle, are challenges that must be addressed if we are to celebrate success in the next hundred years and beyond.

The questioner then followed up: Should the Orthodox community be involved with and participate in the larger Jewish community? The answer is a resounding YES, I responded, for four reasons that I believe bear repeating here.

Firstly, if indeed we believe that Torah empowers us to lead an enriched, noble and meaningful life, don’t we want to share it with all of our Jewish brothers and sisters? Participating in the broader Jewish community provides a perfect platform to expose others to a Torah way of life, and perhaps pique their interest in learning more.

Secondly, we have so much to learn from the leadership and membership of the greater Jewish community and must not deny ourselves that education. I personally have sat around board and committee tables of non-denominational Jewish organizations and have walked away inspired by the passion, wisdom, commitment, selflessness, and humility of those gathered to work tirelessly on behalf of our people.

Thirdly, if we want the interests, concerns and the voice of the Orthodox community represented, we must be part of the conversations. I have found that there are plenty of proverbial seats reserved at “the table” for the Orthodox community. The only question is – are we choosing to sit in them?

Lastly, and most importantly, being part of the general Jewish community, with no ulterior motive but just for its own sake, is a core Torah value. Torah, mitzvos and halacha are designed to enable us to live in multiple concentric circles. We are to see ourselves in the context of our nuclear family, of our local Jewish community, of the general Jewish people and as part of all humanity. Being involved with the greater Jewish people, with no agenda other than being counted in helping to shape our collective destiny, is a Torah mandate.

I am so incredibly proud of the participation of our BRS community in our local Jewish institutions. Our members are disproportionally represented in the leadership of our Federation, AIPAC, College Campus Hillel, FIDF, and more. In the last month alone, our BRS members have chaired, been honored by, and attended the FIDF gala dinner, Federation’s big Event and Hillel’s annual gathering. This week, more than 100 of our members will attend AIPAC’s policy conference in Washington.

May the next hundred years bring greater commitment to Torah learning and Torah living. May it usher in an era of Jewish unity, cooperation, and partnership as together we protect the spiritual and physical destiny of our people.

A Family Reunion

Walking through the Old City on Thursday, my ten-year-old daughter turned to me and said, “Abba, do you know what the coolest part of being in Israel is? Everyone you walk past is Jewish and you are comfortable being around them as if they are part of your family.” I am so happy that at a young age, she already has an awareness of what it means to feel part of a people and the comfort it can provide.

A few minutes later, I stood at the Kotel davening, seeking desperately to tap into the sanctity and holiness of this most special place on Earth. To be honest, I ironically find the Kotel among the most difficult places to concentrate. There are distractions everywhere, including multiple minyanim happening simultaneously, birds flying overhead, and the hot sun reflecting off the stones creating a blinding brightness. Add it all together and I find it difficult to feel lost in prayer and transformed spiritually.

But on this visit to the Kotel, something occurred to me that indeed touched me deeply and uplifted me profoundly. As I finished davening Mincha, I looked around the Kotel plaza and saw the entire tapestry of the Jewish people. There were men in black hats and in Chassidishe garb, others with knitted kippot, and still others struggling to keep their silk or cardboard yarmulkas on their head. Some had prayed their entire lives and for others this would be their very first prayer. There were Israeli soldiers with their guns slung over their backs as they pressed up against the Wall. Though it was after 1:00 P.M., there was a Shacharis minyan taking place with a Bar Mitzvah boy reading from the Torah as his family and friends looked on with great excitement. There was a minyan of men who were all fasting for Yom Kippur Kattan, which is observed each Erev Rosh Chodesh. A Sefardi minyan, Ashkenazi minyan, a fast minyan and a slow minyan, people whispering their prayers quietly and those screaming them at the top of their lungs, all taking place a few yards from one another, all adjacent to the ancient and precious stones that have stood for thousands of years.

Perhaps the inspiration to be drawn from visiting the Kotel emanates not only from what is behind the Wall, but from what is in front of it. The Kotel is the anchor that unites our people and draws us together from wherever we may live. For now on, visiting the Kotel for me will be an opportunity to connect intimately with the Almighty, but also to attend a “family reunion” and to experience a cohesiveness that can transcend the differences we may have.

Later the same night, Yocheved and I had the privilege of attending a real family reunion as we met the BRS students in Israel for dinner. It was amazing to spend a few hours with our Boca kids and to hear from each of them about their favorite classes, their school tiyulim and the most memorable places they have visited for Shabbos. Their experiences vary as do their Yeshivas and Seminaries, but there is one thing almost all seem to have in common. They exude happiness, joy, a sense of confidence and of independence, a quest for self-discovery, and a zest for life.

Spending a year six-thousand miles from home brings maturity, responsibility, and the possibility of discovering aspects of oneself that would never emerge at home. Our children have the rest of their lives to “get on with their lives,” to get the degrees and to start working. There is only one opportunity, though, for a gap year that not only creates a gap before starting college, but also fills in the gaps of Jewish education with lessons that can only be learnt experientially.

What would a gathering be without a few words from the Rabbi and so I shared a simple and short message with our beloved Boca children. When Hashem summons Moshe to Har Sinai in this week’s parsha, it says “Alei eliy ha’harah v’heyei sham. Ascend to me on the mountain and be there.” If Moshe climbs the mountain, of course he is there, where else would he be? The answer is that Hashem understood a challenge that is even more pronounced in our time. Moshe had many people and things competing for his attention. Hashem is saying, I know there are countless emails, texts, phone calls to return and people waiting for you at the base of this mountain. However, when you are on this mountain with me, be with me not only in body but in spirit as well.

With cell phones, Internet access and technology in general, it is harder than ever to be fully present in whatever we are doing. We told the students that this year will only be meaningful and valuable if they can focus, concentrate, and be present in each and every moment. To connect to the amazing class they are hearing or to be part of the incredible conversation late at night in the dorm, or to be soaking up the connection to the land on the tiyul, they would need to disconnect from that which distracts them.

Yocheved and I, like many of you, look back at our year in Israel as a formative time that helped shaped who we are and provided skills and tools that have lasted our entire lives. Spending time with our students transported us back to that amazing time in our lives and reminded us how special it was. I hope when our students come back to Boca, you will be as inspired and uplifted from hearing about their experiences as we were this week.

Shabbat Shalom from the Holy Land

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