A Jewish Perspective on Growth Mindset

Rabbi Dr. Yosef Lynn

You are never stuck. You are a work in progress.
At the heart of Judaism is the belief that people are not static—we are works in progress, capable of teshuvah (repentance and transformation). The Hebrew word teshuvah literally means “return,” but it represents far more than simple repentance. It’s the radical idea that we can fundamentally change who we are, that our past mistakes don’t define our future potential.

Moses initially doubted himself, saying he wasn’t eloquent enough to lead. Yet he grew into the greatest prophet and leader of the Jewish people. True greatness is born not from flawless strength, but from the courage to grow.
The Mishnah tells us: “According to the effort is the reward” (Ethics of the Fathers, 5:23). Not according to the outcome, not according to natural talent—according to the effort. Our Sages understood that the process of striving, even when we fall short, is where true value lies.
Think of the patriarch Jacob wrestling with the angel. He emerged wounded, but transformed, earning the name Israel—“one who struggles with G-d.” His injury wasn’t a defeat; it was a badge of honor, proof of his willingness to engage in the struggle of growth.
Even our greatest sages lived this truth. Rabbi Akiva didn’t begin learning Torah until the age of 40, starting as an illiterate shepherd. Through tremendous effort and dedication, he became one of our greatest teachers. His story embodies Judaism’s timeless conviction: it’s never too late to begin, and your starting point doesn’t determine your destination.

Psychology Meets Tradition
This Jewish way of thinking finds a fascinating parallel in modern psychology. In her groundbreaking book Mindset: The New Psychology of Success, psychologist Carol Dweck describes two fundamental ways of seeing ourselves:

• Fixed Mindset: The belief that our talents, intelligence, and character are static traits—carved in stone and unchangeable.
• Growth Mindset: The understanding that our abilities can be developed through dedication, hard work, and learning from failure.
  Echoing something Judaism has always known, humans are works in progress, constantly capable of change and renewal.
  The growth mindset transforms how we define failure. Instead of seeing setbacks as proof of our limitations, we begin to view them as data points for improvement. This shift is profoundly liberating—and profoundly Jewish.

The Language of Possibility
That’s part of the reason why Judaism has always been wary of permanent labels. The Talmud tells us that even someone who has committed serious transgressions can completely transform themselves. A person can change their entire spiritual trajectory in a single moment of sincere teshuvah.

This perspective invites us to add one small but powerful word to our self-talk: “yet.”

• Not: “I’m not good at math.”
• But: “I’m not good at math—yet.”
  By adding yet, we acknowledge our present reality while refusing to make it permanent.

Practical Applications
How can we cultivate this growth-oriented perspective in our own lives?

• Reframe challenges as opportunities: When facing a difficult situation, ask “What can this teach me?” rather than “Why is this happening to me?”
• Embrace the learning process: Celebrate small improvements and view mistakes as valuable feedback, not personal failures.
• Use growth language: Replace “I failed” with “I learned.” Replace “This is too hard” with “This will take time and effort.”
• Find your learning partner: Surround yourself with people who challenge you to grow, not those who simply affirm your current level.

Ultimately, cultivating a growth mindset is a spiritual practice. It requires faith—faith in our capacity to change, in the value of effort over outcome, and in the possibility that tomorrow’s version of ourselves can transcend today’s limitations.
This faith is deeply Jewish. Jews are the people who believe that a stuttering shepherd can become the greatest prophet and leader, that a barren woman can become the mother of nations, that slaves can become a light unto the world.
As you navigate your own growth journey, remember: the path isn’t about perfection—it’s about progress. Every challenge you face is an opportunity to choose: Will you see this as evidence of your limitations, or as a chance to expand your capabilities?
And the next time you catch yourself saying “I can’t,” try adding that transformational word: “yet.” In that simple addition, you’ll find not just a change in language, but a change in possibility—and perhaps, a return to one of Judaism’s most fundamental truths: we are all works in progress, beautifully and eternally unfinished.

Elliot Mathias

Charlie Kirk inspired a generation with his passion and purpose. In the wake of his horrific murder, how can we draw meaning and direction from the life and example he left behind?

I first heard the name Charlie Kirk in 2013, during a meeting with a prominent California philanthropist who supported Hasbara Fellowships, Aish’s campus pro-Israel advocacy program I had founded. “Have you met Charlie Kirk?” he asked. I shook my head. His reply was instant: “He’s a powerhouse. He’s going to change college campuses for the better.”
At the time, it sounded like the kind of bold prediction donors often make. But in this case, he was right—though even he couldn’t have foreseen just how far Kirk would go. A college dropout from suburban Chicago, Charlie Kirk didn’t just influence campuses; he transformed the political landscape. As founder of Turning Point USA, he built the largest grassroots conservative movement in the nation, rallying and empowering students across all 50 states.
His brutal assassination has left so many reeling. The man who reshaped a generation of conservative activism—who embodied drive, conviction, and an unshakable belief in America’s future—was cut down in an act of senseless violence. The shock is still raw. Yet in the face of this horrific loss, we are left to wrestle with what his life meant, and what we can learn from the example he set. Here are my biggest takeaways I think we can learn from Charlie Kirk.

Fight for Your Cause Without
Demonizing Others
We can deeply believe in our own cause and fight for it vociferously—without demonizing or ostracizing those we disagree with. It is shockingly sad to see the state of political discourse in America today. Politicians, media personalities, and social media influencers compete to paint their adversaries in the darkest possible light. Each side proclaims that the other is destroying the nation.
Earlier this year, liberal commentator Keith Olbermann posted on X: “Every Republican is complicit. Every one of them is a collaborator in the destruction of America.” On the other side, right-wing commentator Steve Bannon declared on his podcast: “The radical left are demons. They worship power and chaos. They hate G-d, they hate America, and they hate you.”
Charlie Kirk stood for something else—conversation. He was known for setting up in the middle of college campuses and letting anyone engage him in debate. He offered the microphone to anyone who disagreed with him, though that person needed to be ready to have their ideas challenged. Charlie wasn’t a pushover and he had an agenda. But his agenda was to win the battle of ideas, not to demonize his opponents.
In this way, Charlie’s tactics echoed Jewish tradition. The Talmud is filled with debate, and two of its most famous combatants, Hillel and Shammai, disagreed constantly. Yet their aim was always to arrive at truth—not to humiliate or delegitimize the other side.
We can believe deeply in our own ideals while remaining committed to listening and respecting others. That’s the only way we can build our society.

Standing Up for Israel
Charlie Kirk made support for Israel a central platform of his advocacy. He spoke powerfully about Israel as both a strategic ally of the United States and a moral beacon in the Middle East.
In the past year, however, that position has become less popular among many outspoken conservative personalities. Bashing Israel—and even crossing the line into outright antisemitism—has sadly become increasingly normalized on right-wing podcasts and social media. Charlie would have none of it.
He argued that Israel was a key ally in the fight against America’s worst enemies, which in turn made Americans safer. He believed firmly that Israel held a historic right to the Land of Israel and was acting morally in defending itself.
At a time when young American conservatives are being fed hateful lies about Israel’s “bloodthirsty” intentions or its supposed attempts to drag America into unnecessary wars, Charlie Kirk offered another vision—one grounded in reason, knowledge, and passion.

Advocating That Religious Ideals
Can Strengthen Society
In Charlie Kirk’s early years of public advocacy, religion played little role in his message. But over time, he became increasingly outspoken about his faith and values. He argued that America was founded on G-d-given rights and responsibilities, and that the erosion of these core beliefs was fueling many of the nation’s ills and its growing sense of directionless drift.
Charlie was not seeking to evangelize. In fact, he was a deep admirer of Judaism and a loyal friend of the Jewish people. Yet he was unafraid to wear his religious convictions on his sleeve, insisting that faith was not the problem but the solution. For him, religion offered timeless answers to society’s deepest challenges—anchored in ideals like self-worth, charity, personal responsibility, strong family and moral clarity.

We Can Change the World if We
Have a Mission
Adam Rubenstein eulogized Charlie Kirk in the Free Press, writing: “He had a mission. It filled him with meaning. And that, above all, was why he convinced countless young people to listen to him, to change their lives for the better, to stand up for things that used to be called common sense.”
Judaism teaches that we are responsible for making the world a better place. We believe the values and morals of Judaism give us the tools to solve the world’s problems. And we believe deeply that if we are working to improve the Almighty’s world, He will help us succeed.
Charlie Kirk lived with this clarity. He knew he was responsible for fighting for a better America and a better world. He poured relentless passion into his mission, winning over countless allies, partners, and supporters.
His murder should stir us to reflect on these questions: What are we passionate about? What is our mission? How can we change the world? Charlie Kirk’s legacy—and the shocking way his life was cut short—urges us to face them with renewed seriousness and purpose.
May Charlie Kirk’s memory be a blessing, and may the impact he made in all these areas continue to inspire and endure far beyond his physical life in this world.

Why Small, Steady Changes Beat Quick Fixes Every Time

Laura SHAMMAH MS, RDN

Everywhere you turn, there’s a new diet promising dramatic results: “Drop 10 pounds in 10 days,” “Cut out carbs and reset your metabolism,” “Intermittent fasting is the secret to longevity.” It’s tempting to believe that the next trend will be the one to solve all your health struggles. But while quick fixes can spark short bursts of motivation, they rarely deliver lasting results.
Real health, energy, and balance come from something much less flashy: consistency.

Why Quick Fixes Don’t Last
Most people who try restrictive diets or aggressive health challenges discover the same pattern: initial success followed by burnout. Here’s why:

• They create an all-or-nothing mindset. If you “mess up,” it feels like failure.
• They’re unsustainable. Cutting out entire food groups or living in constant hunger isn’t realistic.
• They can backfire. Metabolism slows when the body senses deprivation, leading to regain once the diet ends.
  That cycle leaves many people feeling like the problem is them, when in reality, it’s the strategy.

The Science of Small, Steady Change
Habits aren’t built on extremes, they’re built on repetition. Your brain and body thrive when behaviors become predictable. Consistency supports health in ways that quick fixes can’t:

• Blood sugar stability. Eating regular, balanced meals helps prevent crashes and cravings.
• Hormone regulation. Your body feels safer and functions better with a steady rhythm.
• Sustainable progress. A 10-minute walk every day compounds into hours of movement over the month.

Consistency in Action
Small doesn’t mean insignificant. Here are a few examples of consistent choices that truly move the needle:

• Swapping soda for sparkling water most days.
• Adding one serving of vegetables to lunch and dinner.
• Taking a short walk after meals to support digestion and blood sugar.
• Going to bed 20 minutes earlier each night.
• Planning protein at every meal.
  Over time, these choices compound. One skipped workout or indulgent meal doesn’t undo progress; it’s the overall pattern that counts.

What About GLP-1 Medications?
Today, many people are using GLP-1 medications like Ozempic or Mounjaro to help with appetite control and weight management. These can be powerful tools, but they’re not magic wands.
Even with GLP-1s, consistency and healthy habits are non-negotiable. Why?

• These medications may reduce appetite, but they don’t teach you what to eat.
• Long-term success still depends on balanced meals, exercise, hydration, and sleep.
• Without consistent habits, it’s difficult to find true, lasting success in both mind and body.
  Think of GLP-1s as training wheels—they can provide stability, but you still need to learn the skills to ride the bike.

The Power of Patience
It’s natural to want results yesterday. But just like planting a seed and tending to it day after day, health requires patience. Consistency may not give you dramatic overnight change, but it offers something much more valuable: progress that lasts.
Consistency is the quiet, steady force that transforms health. Quick fixes may create excitement, but it’s the daily, repeatable habits that build energy, confidence, and resilience. Whether you’re adjusting your diet, adding movement, or even taking GLP-1 medication, the real “cure” is in showing up again and again.
Small steps, done consistently, will always outshine big leaps that can’t be sustained.

Rabbi Steven Pruzansky, Esq.

One of the most familiar and elevating of Jewish rituals in ancient Israel was the thrice-yearly pilgrimage to Jerusalem, the Aliya Laregel. Jews came with their families and offerings to Jerusalem to celebrate Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot, “to behold the pleasantness of the Lord and to meditate in His sanctuary” (Tehillim 27:4). It was not only a life-changing experience; it was also life-shaping, life-affirming. It placed Jerusalem and the Holy Temple at the epicenter of every Jew’s consciousness. And it did more than that.

The Aliya Laregel was a time of bonding for all Jews, as Jerusalem was celebrated as “the city that is united together” (Tehillim 122:3), the city “which confers fellowship on all of Israel. And when? Only when the tribes ascend together on the festivals” (Talmud Yerushalmi, Chagigah 3:6). All Jews assembled in Jerusalem: the young and old, the rich and poor, men and women, the various tribes from the north, center, and south of Israel. Despite the throngs of people, “no person ever said, ‘there is no room for me to lodge overnight in Jerusalem’” (Avot 5:5). The great medieval commentator Don Yitzchak Abarbanel noted that, in truth, it is a great miracle, that in an overcrowded setting, no one ever felt uncomfortable.
Even diverse levels of religious observance were muted on the festivals. All Jews were presumed to heed the laws of ritual purity. Everyone could eat other’s food and drink each other’s wine. No Jew could be declared impure, such as with tzara’at, on the festivals. A nation that was divided into tribes – today, into political parties and religious factions – found its commonality on the festivals, with Aliya Laregel. Jerusalem, which we are taught was never divided among the tribes (Washington DC paralleled this practice), reached its spiritual apex on the holidays, as all Jews felt a deep, personal, and intimate connection with the Holy City, their nation’s capital and seat of government, the spiritual center of Jewish life, the place where the Divine presence was intensely experienced.
Imagine if Aliya Laregel could be revived today, not in the strictly halachic sense because the Holy Temple has not yet been rebuilt, but practically. Imagine if Jews from across the world ascended to Jerusalem three times a year on the festivals. The spiritual, political, and psychological benefits would be enormous and overwhelming. We would strengthen the attachment of all Jews to each other, a connection that is often frayed for sundry reasons. Most simply, we would affirm in the eyes of the world (and Jews) the profound bond between the Jewish people and the city of Jerusalem, our capital since the time of King David – and a bond that is important to underscore in light of our enemies who seek to delegitimize and disenfranchise the Jewish people from Jerusalem and the land of Israel.
Imagine if all Jews, of all backgrounds and various ethnicities, gathered in Jerusalem on Pesach to re-experience our formative moment as a nation some thirty-three centuries ago, liberated from bondage to become G-d’s chosen people; on Shavuot, to reclaim the Torah as our heritage and birthright; and on Sukkot, to acknowledge and be grateful for G-d’s protective hand that has preserved us until today, after millennia of exile, persecution, and suffering, only to return us to our land, declare independence, and reestablish the Jewish state – a feat without precedent in all of human history.
Together, we would celebrate our origins (Pesach), our mission (Shavuot), and the blessings of Divine Providence (Sukkot).
The Jewish people would be uplifted and transformed. The world – we can continue to imagine – would be galvanized to appreciate the extraordinary return of the Jewish people to the land of Israel and to the world stage in all our glory.
Reviving Aliya Laregel – the pilgrimage dimension of the three festivals – is more feasible than we might otherwise think. Many tens of thousands of Jews already come every festival to Jerusalem. The streets are packed, the Old City is alive, the Kotel is buzzing. We already have realized the vision of Zecharia the prophet: “Old men and old women will again dwell in the streets of Jerusalem, every man with his staff in his hand because of old age. And the streets of the city will be filled with boys and girls playing in its streets” (4:4).
That already is the reality – and the renaissance of Aliya Laregel will further unite all Jews and deepen our connection with Jerusalem. Start with one festival. Let’s do it!

Desserts That Celebrate the Harvest

In ancient times, Sukkot was also celebrated as Hag Ha Asifuse, the Festival of the Ingathering, when our people gathered the produce of their fields and vineyards and brought offerings to the Beit HaMikdash, the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. It marked not only the close of the agricultural year but also the recognition that all blessing comes from G-D. Although most of us no longer live as farmers, the Torah’s message remains timeless. Sukkot calls us to leave the comfort of our homes, dwell in the sukkah, and give thanks for the abundance we are given. One of the ways we can connect to that spirit today is by preparing foods that honor the harvest, especially fruits and sweets that remind us of the blessings symbolized in this season.

As with every Jewish holiday, food has always been part of how we celebrate and remember. On Sukkot, desserts that feature pomegranates, figs, pears, apples, and honey bring forward both the flavors of autumn and the themes of sweetness and gratitude. Preparing them for family and guests in the sukkah becomes not just a culinary task but an act of remembrance, linking us to generations past who celebrated the gifts of the land.
The following recipes are designed to serve six to eight people, making them ideal for sharing at the holiday table. Two are parve, suitable after a meat meal, and two are dairy, perfect for a Yom Tov lunch. Each one reflects the season’s bounty and gives a beautiful close to your Sukkot meals.

Pomegranate Olive Oil Cake
Parve – Serves 8
Ingredients

• 1½ cups all-purpose flour
• 1 cup sugar
• ½ tsp baking soda
• ½ tsp baking powder
• ¼ tsp salt
• ¾ cup extra-virgin olive oil
• ¾ cup pomegranate juice
• 2 large eggs
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• Seeds from 1 pomegranate
  Instructions
  Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease and flour a 9-inch round cake pan. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. In another bowl, combine olive oil, pomegranate juice, eggs, and vanilla. Mix the wet ingredients into the dry until smooth. Fold in half the pomegranate seeds. Pour batter into the pan and bake 35 to 40 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool, then scatter the remaining seeds on top for decoration.

Honey-Roasted
Pear Tart
Parve Serves 6–8
Ingredients

• 1 sheet parve puff pastry, thawed
• 3 ripe pears, peeled, cored, and sliced
• 3 tbsps honey
• 2 tbsps brown sugar
• 1 tbsp lemon juice
• ½ tsp cinnamon
• Pinch of salt
  Instructions
  Preheat oven to 400°F. Place puff pastry on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Arrange pear slices in rows on top. In a small bowl, combine honey, brown sugar, lemon juice, cinnamon, and salt. Drizzle over the pears. Fold pastry edges slightly inward to create a border. Bake 25 to 30 minutes until golden. Allow to cool slightly before serving.

Apple and Honey Cheesecake Bars
Dairy Serves 8
Ingredients

• 1½ cups graham cracker crumbs
• 5 tbsps melted butter
• 16 ounces cream cheese, softened
• ½ cup sugar
• 2 eggs
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 apples, peeled and finely chopped
• 3 tbsps honey
• ½ tsp cinnamon
  Instructions
  Preheat oven to 325°F. Line an 8×8-inch baking pan with parchment. Mix graham cracker crumbs with melted butter and press into the pan. In a medium bowl, beat cream cheese, sugar, eggs, and vanilla until smooth. Pour over crust. In a skillet, cook apples with honey and cinnamon for 5 minutes. Spoon over cheesecake layer. Bake 35 minutes until set. Cool completely before slicing.

Fig and Ricotta Galette
Dairy-Serves 6
Ingredients

• 1½ cups all-purpose flour
• ½ tsp salt
• ½ cup cold unsalted butter, cubed
• ¼ cup ice water
• 1 cup ricotta cheese
• 2 tbsps honey
• 6–8 fresh figs, sliced
• 1 tbsp sugar
  Instructions
  In a food processor, combine flour and salt. Add butter and pulse until mixture resembles crumbs. Add ice water gradually until dough forms. Shape into a disk, wrap, and chill 30 minutes. Preheat oven to 375°F. Roll dough into a 12-inch circle and place on a baking sheet. Spread ricotta in the center, leaving a 2-inch border. Drizzle with honey and layer fig slices on top. Fold edges over filling. Sprinkle figs with sugar. Bake 35 to 40 minutes until crust is golden.

These desserts do more than satisfy a sweet tooth. They remind us of the fruits praised in the Torah and the blessings that Sukkot urges us to acknowledge. By bringing pomegranates, figs, pears, apples, and honey to the table, we recall how our ancestors gathered their harvest and gave thanks to G-D. Preparing and sharing these sweets in the sukkah allows us to connect our modern lives to the eternal message of ḥag hāʾāsif—that gratitude, joy, and blessing come when we recognize all that we receive from above.

This month’s Community Photo Album highlights the excitement of a new school year. From first-day smiles and classroom activities to after-school clubs and team spirit, our children are stepping into learning with energy and enthusiasm.
These photos capture more than just the start of another academic year. They reflect the friendships that continue to grow, the dedication of our teachers, and the pride of families cheering on their students. Whether it’s a group project, a school event, or a quiet moment at a desk, each picture tells the story of a community coming together to support and celebrate education.

A Lesson I Learned From My Son

Rabbi Meyer Laniado

While my wife was in labor, I prepared myself for a powerful and uplifting spiritual experience. I stood by her side with only the doctor and nurse in the softly lit room, and began reciting Tehillim. After a few short minutes, I noticed hospital staff entering the room very quickly: two, three, four, then what seemed like ten. Lights brighter, movements quicker, frenzy where just before was calm. Without knowing how I got there, I found myself backed into a corner of the room. My heart was racing, my stomach in knots, everything uncertain. I could no longer focus on Tehillim. I put my head against the wall and began to cry. I felt, as we recite in our mahzor, Pahad veEma: fear and trepidation. I felt helpless, a passive observer with no control of the situation.
As I prepared myself for the worst, I heard a small cry, looked up, and there he was. Overcome with relief, joy, and gratitude, I walked over to tell our son how much I loved him and I enthusiastically thanked G-d. As hard as I tried to express myself, I could not manage any more than sobs. Those eight minutes of uncertainty were terrifying — not the calm, uplifting moment of prayer I had imagined, but a plunge into feelings of fear, helplessness, and vulnerability.
We often expect spiritual highs to come when we experience awe, gratitude, or joy, such as when we behold a natural wonder or a momentous lifecycle event. Though, as we know, life does not solely consist of these grand moments. We often experience challenges and struggles, feeling low, fearful, and helpless. These moments of feeling helpless can also be a source of connection, inspiration, and spirituality. In these moments, when we acknowledge our vulnerability, we run, as Banim atem laDonai Eloheikhem (Debarim 14:1), as children into our Father’s embrace.
There are many biblical models of prayer in times of desperation and need. One of the most famous that serves as the model for our modern prayer is that of Hannah who, after so many years, remained childless. Yet, the shofar’s cry on Rosh Hashanah is modeled after an enemy of the Jewish people! (Tbavli Rosh Hashanah 33). The mother of the Canaanite general Sisera confidently waited by her window year after year, expecting her son to return victorious. When her son did not return, she cried out in desperation, recognizing her vulnerability (Shofetim 5:28-30). That is the cry of the shofar on Rosh Hashanah. While many of our Yamim Tobim and other holidays are about gratitude, our Yamim Noraim, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, are about relying on G-d, and acknowledging that some elements of our lives are not in our control.
Note how we plead with G-d on Yom Kippur. We do not say “thank you for all you have given me,” but instead, we recite phrases like: anshei Emunah abadu, “those whom we used to rely on are gone” and tamahnu meraot, tashash kohenu missarot, “I plead with you G-d because I have found my troubles bewildering, and they have sapped my strength.”
Sephardic communities open the first night of Rosh Hashanah with the prayer Ahot Qetana, written by Abraham Hazan Girondi (13th Century, Spain). It features the refrain tikhle Shana veqileloteha, let this year and its troubles end. This phrase closes each paragraph which details our need for G-d’s help. The song concludes with leSur hohilu, look hopefully to the Rock [G-d] and tahel Shana uBirkhoteha, begin this year with its blessings. Ibn Ezra (12th Century, Spain), too, expresses this message of turning towards G-d in distress in his famous poem, Lekha Eli, You are My G-d, with which we open Yom Kippur in Sephardic synagogues. There, referring to G-d, he writes leKha Ezra beEt Sara, heye Ezri beSarati… You are a helper in times of trouble; please be my help in my distress. Turning towards God for His support is also portrayed in one of the key phrases frequently repeated on our Yamim Noraim, lifnei Adonai Titharu, before G-d, we will be purified. Emphasis is often on the word Titharu, our purification, but maybe it belongs on the phrase lifnei Adonai, before G-d. Only when we shift our focus and turn our hearts toward Him, lifnei Adonai, relying on Him for His support, can we become tahor.
Unfortunately, many view expressing vulnerability, and acknowledging that we indeed need help, as a show of weakness, so they try to save face by projecting that everything is under control. But the truth, as University of Houston professor Brene Brown suggests, is more likely that: “Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy… If we want… deeper, meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path (Daring Greatly pg. 32).”
It is counterintuitive, but, in my view, she is right. When we are open and honest, we let other people in, connecting more meaningfully and creating a deeper relationship. This is true both in our relationships with other people as well as with G-d. Challenging times when we feel afraid, uncertain, or distraught are not the moments we would choose to experience, but they are inevitable parts of every single one of our lives. They can lead to more enriching relationships when we are open and honest with ourselves and others.
When I put my book of Tehillim down on the bedside table in my wife’s hospital room, unable to recite, overwhelmed with fear and uncertainty, I began to reach out to G-d and plead. That moment is certainly one I would have chosen to skip over, but it helped me understand how asking G-d for help can deepen my relationship with Him.
The prayers and Torah portions of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur acknowledge our vulnerability and need for help. We are asked to recognize that we are not in total control and to shift our paradigm from a world centered around the individual to one centered around G-d. As we chant the prayers and verbalize our transgressions in each other’s presence, we acknowledge our humanity, become aware of our individual and collective vulnerability, and unearth a unique opportunity to connect with our Creator and one another.

Five ways that the Torah brings us joy

Debbie Gutfreund

Jon Krakauer describes reaching the top of Mount Everest in his book, Into Thin Air: “Straddling the top of the world, one foot in China and the other in Nepal, I cleared the ice from my oxygen mask, hunched a shoulder against the wind and stared absently down at the vastness of Tibet. I understood on some dim, detached level that the sweep of earth beneath my feet was a spectacular sight. I’d been fantasizing about this moment, and the release of emotion that would accompany it, for many months. But now that I was finally here, actually standing on the summit of Mount Everest, I just couldn’t summon the
energy to care.” (Jon Krakauer, Into Thin Air, p.5)

I was so startled by his description I had to read the paragraph a few times. It shook me up that a person could work for years training for a climb like this, dreaming about standing on the top of that mountain, looking out at the thousands and thousands of feet that he had found a way to rise above and be too tired to care.
But this happens often in life. We imagine that once we reach our destination, we will be ecstatic. We fantasize about that moment of happiness, but it is elusive, falling so easily out of our grasps, disappointing us just at the moment when we are straddling the top of the world.
How can we find and hold onto joy in this world without it slipping out of our hands? The holiday of Simchat Torah provides an answer. As we dance with the Torah, we bask in the unique, eternal happiness that only Torah can bring into our lives. “It is a tree of life for those who grasp it” (Proverbs 3:18).
Here are five ways that Torah brings us this lasting joy and life.

1. It gives us higher goals.
   The highest predictor of a person’s lasting happiness is a goal that transcends himself. All of our personal goals, however important they may be, are part of a greater mission that all Jews share – to bring light to the world, to honor G-d’s Name, to pass on our sacred traditions. The Torah gives us higher goals to strive for.
2. It shows us how to be grateful.
   Most people understand why gratitude increases our happiness levels, but we don’t necessarily know how to feel grateful on a daily basis. The Torah shows us how to be grateful several times each day. With prayer three times a day, with blessings over food and mitzvot. It imbues within us a constant awareness that we are receiving goodness and kindness from the Source of all life from the moment we open our eyes in the morning.
3. It teaches us hope.
   Life is hard and often unpredictable. Many of us have different challenges that make it difficult to see a way forward. But the Torah teaches us that nothing is impossible. That G-d never gives us circumstances that we can’t handle. That tomorrow will be brighter. That redemption is in our future. That we are not struggling in vain.
4. It connects us.
   In a world where so many are lonely and dependent upon virtual company, the Torah pulls us each out of our isolation. It shows us how to set up communities and bring people together. It teaches us that we need each other. It helps us give even when we’re not sure how. It connects grandparents to their grandchildren. It bridges the cultural gaps that so often divide us. It gives us a common language and a shared truth. It connects us to each other.
5. It gives us flow.
   Our happiest moments occur when we are in the “flow,” completely engaged and absorbed by an activity we are doing. We transcend our physical and emotional limitations by immersing ourselves in the energy of the moment. Torah gives us this sense of flow when we are doing a mitzvah that is challenging for us but within our grasps. We visit the sick even when hospitals make us nervous. We invite the widow from across the street to Shabbos dinner even though we aren’t in the mood for guests. We give tzedakah even though we are anxious about our finances. We choose to overcome a limitation inside of us and move forward even when we have to push ourselves to do so.
   But the Torah also gives us this sense of flow through song and dance. This is the flow of Simchat Torah, celebrating the Torah that teaches us how to transcend our limits, how to be happy, how to be connected. How to sing songs that weave circles into circles that climb beyond the dancers themselves. The words that we sing bring us back to the core of who we are. The higher goals, the gratitude, the hope, the sheer joy of connecting to our Creator. For this moment He created us. For this joy He created the world. It is a happiness that won’t slip away whether we are straddling the top of the world or just beginning our climb. It is in fact right there in our arms – the gift of the Torah that He gives to us. A happiness, a joy, that dances beyond itself. q

Kimy Mandil

Think about this. You’re being given an award at your child’s school for all your help this past year, but there’s one catch—they want you to give a speech. Suddenly your palms are sweaty and it feels like you’re about to pass out. You’d rather have a root canal than speak in public.

What if I told you there was a place to hone these skills that will build your confidence so that speaking at any public engagement (personal or business) will be a piece of cake?
I’d like to introduce you to Brooklyn Best Toastmasters, a part of Toastmasters International, right here in the heart of our community. Think of Toastmasters as your way to build the muscles of confidence.
People fear speaking in public more than going to their dentist. So much so, that glossophobia, or the fear of public speaking, affects millions of people worldwide.
I joined Brooklyn Best Toastmasters two years ago to help me gain back my voice. I work in a predominantly male industry and felt I was lacking the confidence to speak among my peers. Now I feel more confident to not only give speeches but also to lead our meetings, and I recently became a club officer.
When you join our club, you learn to give speeches that have objectives. We don’t tell you what subject to speak on, but the program gives you tasks to accomplish so members build up a toolbox of public speaking skills. Our meetings usually include three speeches.
Toastmasters also helps you learn to think on your feet and give impromptu speeches by giving evaluations or answering table topic questions that require some thought. Evaluations by fellow club members are also mini speeches and help provide positive feedback to your speech in a friendly environment.
Until recently I had no idea the accomplishments of some members of Brooklyn Best Toastmasters. Here are some examples to highlight where some of our Toastmasters have been.
Does the name Ari Siegel ring a bell? Not only was Ari on the famous show Shark Tank, where he ultimately struck a deal with multiple members of the show, but Ari was also a member of Brooklyn Best Toastmasters.
Ever heard of Old Jewish Men of New York? It’s a popular tag on social media, and our very own David Roffé is the face of Old Jewish Men, which has millions of followers. If you’re lucky you may even catch David at one of our meetings. Not to be outdone by his amazing wife, the extraordinary Sarina Roffé. I wouldn’t even know where to start with the many accomplishments of Sarina.
And then there are community members like Ronnie Tawil and Alan Kishk, among others—all terrific speakers. These are men and women just like you and me who decided to take control. It’s not a miracle drug, but if you do the work that Toastmasters has to offer, you’ll see a world of difference.
So, what are you waiting for? Meetings are held twice a month from 8:00–9:30 PM on Monday evenings at Sephardic Synagogue on Avenue R. Email bbtm1234@gmail.com to get on our list.

Through the eyes of the woman who knew him best, his wife Lillian Setton

Who could truly know the essence of a man? The answer is HIS WIFE! My husband Jack and I were married for 64 years before he passed away at the age of 101.

Even before our marriage, I saw his essence, his good heart, good nature, loving kindness, devotion, as well as his ever-welcoming smile. Indeed, those virtues remained steady throughout those years. Not only did he share them with me and our children, he also shared them with people he met.
In 1948, Jack and his family fled Syria due to the Arab uprising against the Jews. They settled in Jamaica, West Indies. There he and his brother Isaac became business partners and were very successful.
Before our marriage, he asked me if I would live in Jamaica. I declined, explaining that I wanted to raise our children and not have to ship them off to Brooklyn in order to procure a yeshiva education. He understood, and we agreed to stay in Jamaica for one year so as to allow him to close his business. Actually, we stayed there for 3 years. However, all of my children were born in the USA. Upon our arrival in New York, he found it very difficult, as he now went from being an employer to becoming an employee.
There is so much that I loved and admired about my husband. However, there was one particular time that my admiration for him became overwhelming. I would like to share it with you: He held various managerial positions in retail stores. He was working on Shabbat (the Sabbath). He was not happy about it, nor was I. We had many conversations about it, as I kept encouraging him to stop working on Shabbat.
Then one day he came home and announced: “I informed my bosses that, ‘I will no longer work on Shabbat (the Sabbath) as well as the Jewish holidays. If it is not agreeable to you, then I quit.’” When he did that, he did not have any job lined up. His bosses refused to let him go, and so they agreed on his terms. I cannot express the joy I felt thanking Hashem for this gift and how proud I was of my husband! He had complete bitachon (trust) in Hashem. Soon after, he became the much-loved mesader (prayer organizer) in the Sitt shul.
The last job he took was as a manager working for David Nissim at Gizelle Ladies Wear on the Lower East Side. He was there for many years before he retired at the age of 92. His relationship with David was like father and son. David loved him, and he loved David. The workers loved him, the customers loved him, as he was known for his warm smile.
Besides his being a wonderful loving husband, he was a terrific loving father. When our children were asleep at night, he always placed a candy bar or gum or some other treat on their windowsills. The children would awake with such glee as they retrieved the items.
I am so thankful to Hashem for allowing me to be at my husband’s bedside towards the end, where I was able to thank him for 64 wonderful years.
My dear Jack, I know that you are praying for all of us, and I look forward to our reuniting again with the coming of Mashiach.

Timeless teachings on self-mastery and personal growth

Rabbi Dovid Campbell

Long before the modern self-help genre, rabbis of 19th-century Europe forged a systematic path of character development. Rooted in classic Jewish ethical texts but attuned to the challenges of the modern era, Mussar (Jewish ethics) emphasized self-reflection, worldly wisdom and ethical action.

The movement spread rapidly across the Jewish world and its teachings remain as relevant today as ever—pointing us toward practical ways of living with mindfulness and integrity. Here are a few gems that speak across boundaries of culture and time.

Change Begins Within
“At first, I would get angry at the world but not at myself. Later, I would get angry also at myself. Finally, I got angry at myself alone.” — Rabbi Yisrael Salanter
Rabbi Yisrael Salanter (1809–1883), the founder of the Mussar movement, was a brilliant Talmudic scholar who recognized the urgent need for a renewed emphasis on character refinement. His journey began with a bold self-assessment—he saw that it is far easier to rail against the faults of the world than to confront our own shortcomings. His insight points to a fundamental truth of growth: meaningful change begins with personal responsibility. We cannot hope to fix what is broken outside if we ignore what is broken within.

Spiritual Responsibility
“Someone else’s material needs are my spiritual responsibility.” — Rabbi Yisrael Salanter
We often divide life into “spiritual” versus “material,” as if feeding the hungry is less holy than meditating or studying. Rabbi Salanter turns that dichotomy on its head. True spirituality is lived in acts of generosity and kindness. Meeting another’s physical needs is itself a sacred duty.

The Gift of Peace of Mind
“A person who has mastered peace of mind has gained everything.” — Rabbi Simcha Zissel Ziv of Kelm
Rabbi Simcha Zissel Ziv (1824–1898), known as the Alter (“Elder”) of Kelm, was one of the foremost disciples of Rabbi Salanter. His Mussar school was famous for its emphasis on clarity of mind and meticulous order, even in the smallest details. To him, a student’s messy wardrobe was no trivial matter—it signaled a lack of inner tranquility, the very foundation of self-mastery.
When our minds are turbulent, we struggle against ourselves. But peace of mind calms the waves, allowing us to reflect, choose, and grow. In today’s overstimulated world, cultivating stillness may be the most radical practice of all.

Redefining Success and Failure
“If you see that someone came to the station after the train he wanted had already left, do not say that the man was late and missed his train, but that he came early for the next train. For everything is in the hands of Heaven.” — Rabbi Yosef Yozel Hurwitz of Novardok
Rabbi Yosef Yozel Hurwitz (1847–1919), known as the Alter of Novardok, was a younger disciple of Rabbi Salanter who charted his own radical course in Mussar. His school emphasized uncompromising self-criticism and absolute trust in the Creator. He rejected society’s obsession with success, status, and control—warning that such pursuits distort our values.
Life is not just about missing or catching trains; it is about recognizing that even mundane events are part of a larger design. Instead of despairing when our plans falter, we can step back and reframe: perhaps we are simply arriving early for what comes next.

Guarding the Mind
“Some people allow their minds to be a free hotel open to all. Anyone who wishes can dump his trash there.” — Rabbi Yosef Yozel Hurwitz
Decades before the digital deluge, Rabbi Hurwitz warned of the danger of mental clutter. Being open to ideas is vital, but discernment is just as important. Wisdom requires filtering—carefully curating what we allow into our mental and emotional space.

Living in the Present
“A person should give up his whole future for today, so that he will not waste all his todays for one tomorrow.” — Rabbi Yosef Yozel Hurwitz
How often do we sacrifice today’s opportunities for an imagined tomorrow that may never come? Rabbi Hurwitz reminds us of a simple but radical truth: life is lived only in the present. Planning is important but not at the cost of neglecting today’s irreplaceable moments.

The Litmus Test of Hope
“When you have a true ambition for something, you will not give up hope. Giving up hope is a sign that you are lacking ambition to achieve that goal.” — Rabbi Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler
Rabbi Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler (1892–1953), a disciple of the Kelm school, brought its Mussar teachings first to England and later to Israel, where his work Michtav Me’Eliyahu (Strive for Truth in English) became a classic of modern Jewish thought.
For Rabbi Dessler, hope is not just a feeling but a barometer of commitment. If we truly yearn for a goal, we will keep hope alive even in difficulty. Losing hope, then, is not only discouragement—it is a sign that perhaps the goal no longer stirs our deepest will. Hope tells us what we truly want.

The Miracle of Change
“To change a person’s nature—to reverse their character traits—requires a miracle.” — Rabbi Yerucham Levovitz of Mir. Rabbi Yerucham Levovitz (1875–1936), a leading student of the Kelm school and spiritual guide of the Mir Yeshiva, was renowned for his eloquent sermons and penetrating insight into the human soul. His famous teaching about change highlights one of Mussar’s central truths: transformation is no small task. Rather than minimize the challenge, Rabbi Levovitz actually magnifies it—calling real character change nothing less than miraculous. But the point is not to discourage us. On the contrary, he means to inspire awe at our capacity for growth. Each small victory over anger, pride, or laziness is nothing less than a wonder—evidence that human beings are capable of transcending themselves.
Taken together, these Mussar teachings offer a powerful framework for self-development. They call us to begin within oneself, to merge the spiritual and the practical, to guard our inner lives, to live in the present, to persist with hope, and to marvel at the miracle of growth. In an age hungry for wisdom, the voices of these masters remind us that the tools for transformation are already in our hands.

Israel Did Not Kill Charlie Kirk

Linda Argalgi Sadacka

The tragic murder of Charlie Kirk has generated sorrow across America. What has followed is a disgrace: a torrent of slanderous accusations tying Israel to his death. In only a few days, more than ten thousand social media posts have claimed without evidence that Israel orchestrated the killing. These accusations are not only false, they are dangerous, and they must be exposed for what they are: modern blood libels.

The first question any rational observer should ask is simple. Where is the evidence? There is none. Not one law enforcement agency, not one credible journalist, not one piece of verifiable information has implicated Israel. The accusers began with their conclusion that Israel was guilty and then tried to construct a conspiracy around it. That is the inversion of truth. In a court of law, such claims would be thrown out before arguments even began.
The second question is, what possible motive would Israel have? Charlie Kirk was not an enemy of the Jewish state. He was a friend. He praised Chabad. He honored Shabbat (Sabbath). He recognized the role of Jewish tradition in sustaining Western civilization. For Israel to kill Kirk would mean striking at an ally. No rational democracy murders its allies. The very suggestion defies logic.
The third question is why Israel is being singled out. The answer lies in history. For centuries, antisemites have blamed Jews for every calamity. When the plague swept Europe, they said the Jews had caused it. When economies collapsed, they said the Jews were behind it. After the September 11 attacks the same lie spread, that Israel orchestrated it. Now Kirk’s murder has become the newest excuse for the oldest hatred. These accusations are not based on fact. They are rooted in prejudice and scapegoating.
A fourth point is practical. Every moment wasted on this nonsense is a moment stolen from the pursuit of justice. Conspiracy theories do not honor Kirk’s life. They dishonor it. They distract from the real perpetrators. They delay accountability. They embolden the very forces of hate Kirk opposed. Instead of mourning a man of conviction and seeking truth, they weaponize his death against the one democracy in the Middle East.
Finally, there is the moral dimension. To blame Israel for Charlie Kirk’s death is not merely wrong. It is obscene. It is the twenty-first century’s version of the blood libel, the most pernicious of antisemitic lies. These conspiracies are not aimed at solving a crime but at scapegoating a people. That is why they must be rejected with clarity, with reason, and with moral courage.
Charlie Kirk deserves the truth. His family deserves justice. Israel deserves not to be defamed with baseless slanders. Let us be clear: Israel did not kill Charlie Kirk. To claim otherwise is a lie, a blood libel for our time, and history will judge those who spread it accordingly.

Sarina Roffé

I had been to Istanbul about 10 years ago when my husband and I did a tour of Turkey. During that time, I met with Rabbi IZAK Peres and we became friends. I loved touring Turkey and visiting the seat of modern Turkey, since it became a sovereign nation after the fall of the Ottoman Empire. I met with Rabbi IZAK Peres again during this visit, but it was under different circumstances. He visited me in the hospital and made sure I had food for Shabbat.

Istanbul has become a popular destination for high-quality plastic surgery and I was no exception. The price and the first-class treatment made it an amazing experience. If you ever want to go for plastic surgery, this is the place to go and I can definitely find you a connection. In fact, my connection was someone from the community who hooked me up with her sister, Miryam Sulam. She was my go-between, coordinating with the doctor and the hospital and making sure that I was taken care of when I came.
Rabbi Peres was also there. He got his semicha (Rabbinic ordination) from Shehebar Sephardic Center and Rabbi Sam Kassin. In Istanbul, Rabbi Peres is not only a congregation rabbi, he is also a dayan (rabbinical judge), a teacher in the Jewish day school, and a shochet (kosher ritual slaughterer). He told me he was going the next day to Bulgaria to slaughter meat to send to Greece, since they are not allowed to slaughter in Greece. He is a busy guy.
During my visit, Miryam also took the time to take me around a little bit. The first day after my pre-op exam was finished, we went to Neve Shalom Synagogue in Galata, which is a neighborhood on the European side of Istanbul. Istanbul has a European side and an Asian side.
As a little background, Jews came to what was then the Ottoman Empire in 1492 when Sultan Bayezid II invited them after the expulsion from Spain by Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand. The sultan sent ships to bring Jews to the Ottoman Empire. Jewish communities all over the Ottoman Empire took root from Istanbul to Antakya for over 530 years.
A century after the creation of the nation of Turkey, there are still several Jewish communities, primarily in Izmir and Istanbul. The communities are 96 percent Sephardic and a few Ashkenazim. The presence of Jews in Eastern Turkey—in places like Iskenderun, Gazi Anteb, Kilis, Antakya, and cities that border Syria—has decreased to minuscule numbers.
The Neve Shalom Synagogue is located near the Galata Tower, a famous site. People were lined up for hours to go to the top of the tower. Neve Shalom is not only Istanbul’s central Sephardic synagogue and the seat of the Istanbul Chief Rabbinate, it is also the largest house of worship of the Jewish community in Turkey. Weddings, funerals, and bar mitzvahs, as well as the inauguration of the Chief Rabbi, are regularly held there. It is the only synagogue on the Golden Horn that has an intact mikveh.
There are important traditions I learned about the Jews of Turkey. Their lahamagene is the size of a personal pan pizza. Each year, they have a day dedicated to Limmud. Limmud was originally a conference in the United Kingdom for Jewish educators. It evolved over the years into a community gathering of Jewish learning and has grown into a large international organization based in over 40 countries and almost 100 communities worldwide. In Turkey, there are over 1,000 participants each year.
During the second week of May each year, a concert is held in the Great Edirne Synagogue to celebrate the Week of Foundations. The synagogue in Edirne was rebuilt and reopened in 2015.
While many Americans hold baby showers for a pregnant mother, it is seen as bad luck in American Jewish families. Not so in Istanbul. Fashadura is a time-honored ceremony held in the fifth or seventh month of pregnancy, always on a Monday or Thursday, the day the Torah is read. Family and friends gather and a garment of cotton or linen is sewn for the unborn child to be worn when born, and it is believed to give the child long life. The first cutting is by someone who has no children.

Before leaving New York, many people asked how I felt going to Turkey when, due to the Gaza War, the nation had broken off relations with Israel. I am a staunch Zionist and supporter of Israel. However, I did not see any reason not to go to Turkey for this purpose, especially since I knew Jewish people and a prominent rabbi. Turkey is not a place to advertise you are Jewish. Miryam is encouraging her two children to find jobs outside Turkey. The community is decreasing in numbers. Thousands have gone to Israel or gotten Portuguese or Spanish citizenships.
Neve Shalom means “Oasis of Peace,” but the peace came to a sudden end in 1986 and 2003 when the house of prayer became a target of vicious terrorist attacks, both on Shabbat.
The Jewish Museum of Turkey is also in Neve Shalom. The inside of the synagogue is truly magnificent, and you can see how the community once thrived here. The museum shows the rich 700-year history of Jews in Turkey. Part of the museum shows the history of the Jews in Anatolia dating back to the 4th century BCE and continues with the arrival of Sephardic Jews expelled from Spain in 1492 and later from Portugal.
I spent two days in the hospital for the procedure and then was moved to the Sheraton to recuperate. I noticed the hotel had tight security, with every vehicle being scanned. Packages, bags, and purses had to go through a scanner and people through a metal detector.
A few days after my procedure, I returned to the hospital for a post-op check-up and clearance to fly home. After I was cleared by the doctor, I felt like I needed to get some fresh air and the weather was perfect for a little walk.

So before I came back to New York, I suggested to Miryam that I wanted to visit the Yanbol Synagogue in Balat. I had read that it had been renovated and it was one of the four surviving ancient synagogues in Balat, a district once densely populated by Jews. Miryam called the synagogue and arranged for us to visit. We would see the synagogue and get lunch.
The two-year renovation of Yanbol was financed by the German Consulate. The sanctuary was just breathtaking as you will see from the photos in this article. It is a fully functioning synagogue with regular services. There is a small museum there as well, featuring rimonim (Torah finials), Torah crowns, and other religious articles discovered in a hidden storeroom. All of the artifacts were restored and turned into an exhibition in cooperation with the Quincentennial Foundation Museum of Turkish Jews. It contains elements dating from Byzantine times in its courtyard, and its ceiling is decorated with oil paintings of nature.
The sanctuary hall features a mixed stone and wood structure. Special care was taken to conserve and restore the synagogue’s original artwork, decorative elements, and wall paintings.
Just a few feet from the Yanbol Synagogue was Ahrida Synagogue. The caretaker walked us down the street and opened its doors, taking my breath away. It was built by Romaniotes (Greek Jews), dating back to the 1430s, from the city of Ohrid in what was then the Ottoman Empire and is now North Macedonia. Ahrida Synagogue is known for its boat-shaped tebah (reader’s platform). Ahrida Synagogue is also the only synagogue in Istanbul at which Sabbatai Zevi, founder of the Jewish Sabbatean movement, prayed.
Despite the decreasing numbers, Istanbul and its suburbs still have a community large enough to support at least 19 synagogues, youth and family clubs, social support, and a 500-student Jewish day school. The curriculum is taught in Turkish, Hebrew, and English.
There is also a Talmud Torah, clubs, and ways for families and youth to be together and make friends on both the Asian and European side of Istanbul. Young adults have many opportunities to socialize, meet, and marry within the community. There are also summer synagogues that open as people leave the city for the beach communities.
The community has a full agenda of social services: pocket money, scholarships for higher education, ambulance services, caregivers, counseling, a weekly and monthly Ladino newspaper, senior citizen housing, and programs.
Would I come back to Istanbul in the future? Probably, but I would need to consider the current state of affairs. Turkey is one of the few nations with a primarily Muslim population I felt safe in.

Together We Can Solve Tuition

The average cost of tuition in our community is $30,000 per child, per year. For a family with five children, that’s a bill of $150,000. How can families live like this? The burden is enormous, affecting nearly every household. But our community has proven that when we face a challenge, we come together. We’ve always supported each other, whether it’s families, businesses, or health needs. Tuition should be no different. This is our moment to work side by side and solve this challenge through unity, creativity, and commitment.

UCEF has spent the last 8 years working with community companies and individuals to generate funds for tuition relief. To date, UCEF distributed nearly $6 million directly to families in all 14 Brooklyn community schools.
The system is in place. Parents, schools, and businesses are connected. The structure works. Now we need more people to use and maximize these programs so we can generate millions more for our community families.

How You Can Help, At No Cost
UCEF connects your company to vetted vendors. You talk to them like any new partner, review pricing, services, and quality. If it works for your business, the vendor pays UCEF a royalty that goes directly to tuition relief.
One example: “A company initially told us not to bother, they thought they already had the best rates. After a review, UCEF was able to save them $150,000, and now their business generates royalties for UCEF, connecting their business to Beracha.” If it doesn’t make sense, nothing changes. No risk, only potential benefit.
UCEF partners with top professionals across all types of insurance, Business, Home, Life, Group Health, Estate Planning, and more. Connect with one of the UCEF partners to see if they can get you better rates or better coverage. If they can, make the change, otherwise stick with what you have.

Eli Cohen Insurance Agency Partnership
The Eli Cohen Insurance Agency has been a flagship partnership for UCEF. They have been successful in helping save our community business owners hundreds of thousands of dollars and have been able to contribute to the UCEF fund. The Eli Cohen Insurance Agency specializes in:

• Property Insurance for Real Estate including Residential, Commercial, Warehouse/Industrial
• Product Liability & Ocean Marine for wholesale companies
• Business Insurance and Workers Comp for retail stores, restaurants, and more
• Homeowners/Landlord insurance for homes in NY and NJ

UCEF Debit Card Program
Everyday purchases can generate tuition dollars. Shopping locally, for example buying groceries at Jerusalem Glatt, clothing at 2020, a treat from Urban Pops, or dinner at Subnational, generates rewards to your own tuition bill. Rewards can be 2–5x higher than most credit cards. Keep your cards, but when rewards are better, use the UCEF Tab card.
The card is also perfect for kids. Instead of cash allowance, load the UCEF card. You control the funds, guide their shopping, and every purchase racks up tuition credits that come directly off your bill.

How UCEF Distributes the Money
UCEF’s program is inclusive and fair. Each year, UCEF has sent schools a list of approved families and the per-child amount, then issues a lump-sum check. Schools apply the funds directly to each parent’s tuition bills. Families see immediate savings.

New Programs on the Horizon
UCEF is positioned to lead with the upcoming tax credit bill. Starting January 1, 2027, every taxpayer can send a $1700 donation to UCEF which will generate a dollar-for-dollar tax credit. It doesn’t cost you anything, and since UCEF has running programs every donation dollar goes directly to tuition relief.
UCEF also has 3–4 major initiatives in development that can generate millions more. The systems are ready. What they need now is people to get involved and help put them into action.

Your Role Matters
This isn’t about a few leaders doing all the work. Every person has a role. Work with a vendor, review your insurance, shop with the debit card, or share your skills and connections. Let’s stop saying, “There’s nothing we can do,” and start saying, “I’m ready to do something.” Together we can turn this challenge into our greatest accomplishment. The more people that participate, the more successful we can be.
If you’re ready to take the next step, reach out to a UCEF board member or contact our Executive Director, Sammy Esses, at 917-647-9276 or email him at sammy@ucef.com. You can call, text, or email him anytime.