I was on my way to Israel this past Sunday, and throughout Shabbos, I was with many dear friends of Aish. One after another, they asked me whether I was planning to fly the next day. My answer was consistent. Absolutely, barring issues from snow or war. That statement alone captures the moment in which we are living. Massive snowstorms threaten travel plans. An existential crisis with Iran hovers over Israel. The world feels unstable, unpredictable, and fragile.
Over that same Shabbos, I also spent time with my close friend David Magerman, who shared one of the most beautiful stories I have heard in a long time. When the war began two-and-a-half years ago, Jews across the world responded with extraordinary generosity. Shipments were sent, supplies were gathered, and money was wired. The Jewish heart is a giving one. At times, however, what was sent was not always what was most needed. The instinct to give was powerful. The clarity about what to give was not always as sharp.
David told me that someone once approached him asking for a grant to help with security for a family living on a hilltop. The husband was going into miluim and his wife would be alone with the children. He stepped up to help. Later, he came to visit, and the family showed him around. At first, they did not know he was the one who had provided the funds. When they realized, they embraced him with overwhelming gratitude. He then asked a simple question. “What else do you need?”
Their answer stunned him. They said they needed sheep. Grazing rights in that region create a presence and establish security. Arab neighbors respect grazing patterns. Sheep, of all things, would strengthen their safety. David proceeded to purchase sheep and additional farming support for them. He told me he learned a profound lesson. Chesed is not about what I want to give. Chesed is about understanding what is truly needed.
With G-d’s help, I was fortunate to leave on an early flight before the bulk of the snow hit. At the same time, the larger storm facing our people continues to swirl. The threats from Persia echo across generations. The language of annihilation sounds disturbingly familiar. History has taught us that when enemies rise against the Jewish people, salvation ultimately comes, yet the waiting can feel daunting.
This week, I had the privilege of sharing dinner with David Milstein, one of my favorite people in the world, who serves at the United States Embassy in Israel as a senior advisor to Ambassador Huckabee and, more importantly, is an alumnus of Aish. He spent six months learning in our yeshiva on his spiritual journey. Sitting with capable, principled leaders who are working on global challenges is a powerful reminder that G-d runs the world. Human beings act and strategize, yet the Master of the Universe guides history.
As I sat down to write these words, I glanced at social media, something I monitor constantly as Aish plays such a prominent role online. I saw the New York City Council debating legislation championed by Speaker Julie Menin to prevent protesters from blocking Jews from entering their houses of worship. The proposal would create reasonable buffer zones so that police could ensure families are able to walk into a synagogue without being surrounded, screamed at, or intimidated.
This issue is painfully personal for Marvin Gerber, the father of my dear friend Sander Gerber, who has also become a close friend over the years. For twenty-five years, every single Shabbos in Ann Arbor, Michigan, Marvin and his fellow congregants have had to walk past protesters holding vile antisemitic signs. “Jews bomb hospitals.” “Jewish power corrupts.” Week after week, timed specifically to coincide with services. When Marvin challenged this harassment in court, seeking only to have the protesters moved back a reasonable distance, the courts ruled against him. He and another plaintiff were ordered to pay nearly $160,000 in legal fees to the ACLU. Imagine writing that check simply because you wanted to pray in peace.
Marvin recently wrote that while the FACE Act bars physical obstruction, it does not address persistent, targeted intimidation that creates a gauntlet of fear. His story is not only a Jewish one. Churches, mosques, temples, and gurdwaras face similar tactics. A narrow federal standard establishing reasonable buffer zones during service hours would protect freedom of religion without silencing freedom of speech. I am proud to stand with Sander Gerber in pushing to make this type of legislation federal, so that no American’s right to worship becomes a zip code lottery.
On another screen, I saw footage from San Francisco where chants of “tax the rich” quickly devolved into “tax the Jews.” For two-and-a-half years, we have pointed out that the eruption of antisemitic protests on campuses across North America was never truly about policy disagreements. Israel was an excuse. Now the mask is slipping, and the rhetoric has become openly hateful toward Jews themselves.
Many of our students share that they tuck their Magen David or Chai necklaces inside their shirts so no one will know they are Jewish. That quiet fear pierces the heart. Rabbi Efrem Goldberg spoke at our Aish Legacy Summit two weeks ago and later brought his Mivakshim group to Aish to sit with our Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Yitzchak Berkovits. Among the many beautiful insights he shared, one remains etched in my mind as we approach Purim.
In the Megillah, the pivotal figure is Mordechai HaYehudi, Mordechai the Jew. He was called the Jew because he was the only one who refused to bow to Haman. His refusal enraged Haman, yet it also set the stage for Haman’s downfall. The strength of one Jew who would not bend before evil reverberated through the palace and fortified Esther herself. Mordechai’s unyielding identity empowered Esther to risk everything before a despotic king to save her people.
Menachem Begin once declared that “we are no longer Jews with trembling knees. We are Jews who stand upright, proud of who we are and unafraid to live openly as Jews.” Mordechai teaches that salvation begins with dignity.
This week, I also had breakfast with my dear friend Yaakov Gade, CEO of Cross River Bank and a student of Rav Noach Weinberg zt’l, who once taught Discovery for Aish. We spoke about the values that define us: wisdom, love, and responsibility. Yaakov suggested another value that Rav Noach constantly emphasized: creativity.
Rav Noach taught that we are created in the image of the ultimate Creator. Creativity is not optional. It is our calling. A Jew does not merely react to circumstances. A Jew creates, builds, innovates, and elevates. Aish could have rested on its accomplishments. We operate the second-largest overseas program in Israel. Aish.com is one of the most successful Jewish websites in the world. Instead, we expanded into social media. We launched new initiatives. We are building AishU and integrating AI to reach Jews everywhere with wisdom that transforms lives.
Creativity requires courage. Expansion requires investment. This fiscal year, for the first time in many years, we ended with a deficit due to significant growth and the challenge of the shekel-to-dollar fluctuation.
Here is where David Magerman’s lesson resonates deeply. Chesed is not about what I want to give. It is about understanding what is truly needed. Aish is building, innovating, and expanding. We have the vision. We have the programs. We have the reach. What we need right now are the resources to sustain and scale that growth responsibly.
After Purim, we will launch our ‘All In for Aish campaign’. The campaign is already live, and I am asking you personally to participate. Your partnership is not simply a donation. It is the sheep on a hilltop. It is security for a family. It is wisdom delivered to a searching soul online. It is Jewish pride strengthened in a student who decides not to tuck in their Magen David.
Purim reminds us that a genocidal madman once sought to destroy our people. Mordechai refused to bow. Esther found her courage. The Jewish people rose from the brink of annihilation to celebration and renewal. The same G-d who orchestrated that salvation guides us today.
Stand tall. Wear your Judaism with pride. Refuse to bow to fear or hatred. In the merit of Mordechai and Esther, may we see our enemies fall by the wayside, and may we rejoice together in Jerusalem, united with the Almighty in a world redeemed.
