From the CEO

For thousands of years, Jews dreamed of returning to Jerusalem. They prayed for the day when Jewish life would once again flourish in our eternal capital, when the streets would be filled with weddings, celebrations, and new beginnings. Here I was, sitting at a wedding overlooking Jerusalem, watching two wonderful young people begin their lives together in the Jewish homeland. No hiding. No fear. Just Jewish joy, Jewish love, and Jewish continuity in the heart of Jerusalem.

Three years ago, our enemies gave us one of the darkest days in Jewish history. Three years later, I watched young Jews dancing with the Torah in Yerushalayim. Not because October 7th has been forgotten, but because October 7th failed to change who we are. We are still the people of life.

After three years of war, loss, hostages, uncertainty, and fighting on multiple fronts, this Sukkot feels different.
Millions of Jews are streaming toward Jerusalem, the Old City, the Kotel, and the place where our Temple once stood and where we pray it will one day stand again.

I met Ben on Yom Kippur when he joined us at Aish. He told me that one of the things that sustained him were the Jews who came to visit him. They reminded him that beyond those prison walls, his people had not forgotten him.

I found myself in Monsey for Shabbos, where I was speaking at a local shul. At kiddush, I happened to be sitting across from someone I had gotten to know a little bit, Ari Abramowitz. I casually mentioned that Yaakov had been encouraging me to attend this Rosh Hashanah program at Camp Sternberg.

We do not need a world without disagreement. We need a world in which disagreement is surrounded by love.

This weekend, all of these thoughts come together for me. I am remembering September 11 and the innocent people who went to work and never came home. I am thinking about October 7 and the Jewish families whose lives were changed forever. I am thinking about America and Israel. I am thinking about my father and the example he gave me of what it means to love a community. I am thinking about Rosh Hashanah and standing before God to ask for another year of life.

Friday night, I walked into a packed room filled with students beginning the new year in our Eber Family Gesher (efg@Aish) program. Some were beginning their first year, others were returning for Shana Bet, and all of them had come to Jerusalem with a desire to grow, learn, and discover more about who they are as Jews.

As we inch closer to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Aish Jerusalem is alive. The Yeshiva is packed and overflowing. New students are arriving for the first time, former students are returning home, and our family continues to grow.

Israel is starting to fill up again as students arrive for the new year. At Aish, the energy is incredible. We are in the middle of a major expansion in the Old City, including new dormitories, and everyone is racing around as the final touches are completed.

Amid all of that, I had the tremendous privilege on Sunday of racing from one wedding to another.

As many of you know, Aish merged with Partners in Torah because we believed that together we could create something even greater than either organization could accomplish alone. That vision came to life in an extraordinary way as the program had 14,976 registrants, all Jewish singles, and boasted 50% of attendees finding a match.

As many of you know, Aish merged with Partners in Torah because we believed that together we could create something even greater than either organization could accomplish alone. That vision came to life in an extraordinary way as the program had 14,976 registrants, all Jewish singles, and boasted 50% of attendees finding a match.

As many of you know, Aish merged with Partners in Torah because we believed that together we could create something even greater than either organization could accomplish alone. That vision came to life in an extraordinary way as the program had 14,976 registrants, all Jewish singles, and boasted 50% of attendees finding a match.

Our sages teach us that the Second Temple was destroyed because of sinas chinam, baseless hatred and division among Jews.

This week, I witnessed the opposite.

I saw Chabad and Aish learning from one another. I saw outreach professionals from every corner of the Jewish world sharing ideas instead of competing. I saw rabbis, educators, lay leaders, and organizations united by one mission: strengthening the Jewish people.

Our sages teach us that the Second Temple was destroyed because of sinas chinam, baseless hatred and division among Jews.

This week, I witnessed the opposite.

I saw Chabad and Aish learning from one another. I saw outreach professionals from every corner of the Jewish world sharing ideas instead of competing. I saw rabbis, educators, lay leaders, and organizations united by one mission: strengthening the Jewish people.

One of the accomplishments that means the most to me during my eleven years as CEO has been watching Aish dramatically expand opportunities for women’s Torah learning. This has never been the work of one individual. It has been the work of an entire movement that believes with complete conviction that every Jewish soul deserves access to Torah wisdom.

My week began at the Jewish Agency Board of Governors meetings in Tel Aviv, where I joined Jewish leaders from around the world who dedicate their lives to strengthening our people.

Everywhere I travel, regardless of the community or denomination, someone inevitably pulls me aside to share a story about how Aish changed their life or the life of someone they love. Those conversations never grow old. They remind me that the true impact of Aish cannot be measured simply by the number of students who have walked through our doors.

This week, we celebrated two graduations in the Erber Family Gesher programs. On Sunday evening, we held our banquet for the young women. On Monday evening, we celebrated the young men before they returned home. These programs have become an essential part of Aish over the past decade.

This week, we celebrated two graduations in the Erber Family Gesher programs. On Sunday evening, we held our banquet for the young women. On Monday evening, we celebrated the young men before they returned home. These programs have become an essential part of Aish over the past decade.

Rabbi Elliott Mathias, Rabbi Daniel Rowe, and Rabbi Isaac Oziel led AISH’s Living Legacy Experience through Poland, bringing participants to the Warsaw Ghetto, Treblinka, Majdanek, the Krakow Ghetto, and Auschwitz Birkenau. Most participants came expecting to learn about the Holocaust. They left with something much deeper. They left with Jewish pride.

Over the past several months, Aish has also been facing significant financial pressures due to the strength of the shekel against the weakening U.S. dollar. The impact has been substantial. During this time, I have witnessed something incredibly moving: the overwhelming generosity and partnership of our community.

On Shavuos night, Jews across the world stay awake learning Torah, some throughout the entire night until sunrise. Here at the Dan Family Aish World Center, the building will remain open all night long. Classes will be taking place throughout the night.

I recently saw an online commentator reminiscing about the old days when children played in the streets, and neighbors knew one another, contrasting it with today’s world, where everyone stares endlessly at their phones. Someone responded that this still exists every Saturday in traditional Jewish communities.

I spoke this week with my dear friend Rabbi Warren Goldstein, who founded the Shabbat Project and has inspired so much of the world to reconnect with Shabbat. We both agreed how unprecedented and meaningful this moment feels.

This week, I had the privilege of attending the JEIC conference in Atlanta. It is one of the most inspiring gatherings in Jewish education. The work being done in day schools is critical to the future of our people. The vision of the Mayberg Foundation, now partnered with the Aronov Foundation, continues to shape that future in profound ways.

For eleven years, I have made it a priority to be in Israel for Yom HaZikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut. Those two days, side by side, capture something essential about the Jewish story. They remind us who we are, where we have come from, and what it has cost us to stand here today.

This week, as I send greetings from Jerusalem, I found myself thinking deeply about Yom HaShoah, Israel’s Holocaust Remembrance Day. As the siren sounded across the country and an entire nation stood still, a powerful and painful thought echoed.

Over Pesach, I had the privilege of speaking with so many people, and I kept hearing the same thing. The story no longer feels distant. It no longer feels like something that happened thousands of years ago. It feels immediate. It feels personal.

The message of Pesach is not theoretical. It is the story of a people who stood up to tyranny, who faced Pharaoh, a ruler willing to murder Jewish children, and who walked out of Egypt and out of slavery into freedom with God guiding them.

Missiles over Israel. Rising antisemitism across the world. A constant awareness that there are those who seek our destruction. The current confrontation with Iran feels like a moment where everything is coming together, a culmination of forces that have been building for decades.