One of the great gifts of the summer is having the opportunity to travel, spend time with people, and hear their stories. Over nearly twelve years at Aish, one of my greatest blessings has been getting to know so many extraordinary people, not only for what they do for Aish and the Jewish people, but for the way they live their lives.
Aish has a philosophy that I believe is powerful precisely because of its simplicity: wisdom, love, and responsibility.
Wisdom means understanding who we are, knowing our heritage, and recognizing that Torah is our conduit to God. Torah brought a revolutionary vision of morality and ethics to the world, and it continues to give us the wisdom to live lives of meaning.
Love means embracing every Jew and, ultimately, all of humanity. It means seeing another person and recognizing the spark of God within them.
Responsibility means understanding that we cannot simply care about the Jewish people in theory. We have to show up. We have to act. We have to take responsibility for one another.
This past Shabbat, I had the privilege of seeing all three come alive.
My family and I spent Shabbat in Montebello with our dear friends, the Gerber Family, whom I have been blessed to know throughout my years at Aish. Our families have become very close over the years, and visiting them is always special.
Many years ago, the Gerbers bought a home in Montebello, when there were few synagogues in the area. Their property had a barn.
Most people would have looked at it and seen a barn.
The Gerbers looked at it and saw a shul.
They transformed that barn into a magnificent place of Torah, prayer, community, and connection. Today, an extraordinary and wonderfully eclectic group of Jews gathers there. There are Chasidim and Misnagdim, Sephardim and Ashkenazim, people who grew up deeply observant, people who traveled far from their roots and found their way back, and people whose Jewish journeys have taken entirely different paths.
Everyone comes through the same doors.
Every time I visit, I am moved by what has grown there. I also have the privilege of sharing words of Torah, although often the conversations afterward teach me as much as anything I could possibly say from the pulpit.
This Shabbat was no exception.
One man approached me after I spoke and shared something deeply personal. He had been involved in helping Jewish organizations when a terrible family tragedy struck. He struggled enormously. At a certain point, he came to understand that despite what had happened to him, he needed to keep going. He needed to continue helping others.
I often say that there is nothing stronger in the world than the broken heart of a Jew.
A broken heart does not have to become a defeated heart. Somehow, a Jew can take heartbreak and turn it into greater compassion, greater responsibility, and a greater determination to be there for someone else. His story reminded me of that truth. His pain did not disappear. His responsibility did not disappear either.
Life can confront us with things we never imagined we would have to endure. Somehow, the Jewish response has always been to find a way to move forward, to grow, and ultimately to use our lives in service of others.
I also had a remarkable conversation with Rabbi Sgt. (Res.) Ari Abramowitz, who runs Nevut, about his work helping IDF lone soldiers and addressing the enormous trauma so many are carrying. Throughout Shabbat, I kept meeting people with different backgrounds, different stories, and different ways of serving the Jewish people.
There is a saying that Sander Gerber loves to share about their remarkable shul:
“If a barn can become a shul, imagine what you can become.”
I love that line.
A barn is just a barn until someone sees what it could be. Perhaps the same is true of each of us.
The following day, we left the Gerbers and traveled to another extraordinary place, Camp Simcha.
Camp Simcha, run by Chai Lifeline under the leadership of the indefatigable Rabbi Simcha Scholar and his incredible staff, welcomes children from around the world who are confronting serious illnesses, many of them battling cancer. For a few precious weeks, these heroic children get something they desperately deserve.
They get to be kids.
Our dear friends Bari and Daniel Erber were dedicating a Sefer Torah there. The Erber family has been deeply involved with Aish, and each year we have the privilege of celebrating a Torah dedication with them in Israel. This time, they were bringing a Torah into Camp Simcha.
The energy was indescribable.
There was singing. There was dancing. There was joy. Children were dancing alongside wheelchairs as the Torah made its way through the room.
At one point, they asked me to come onto the stage and gave me a choice. I could sing, dance, or share some Torah.
Knowing my limitations, I chose Torah.
I shared an idea that I have said many times over the years, including at a Sefer Torah dedication surrounding the wedding celebrations of our dear friends Ivan and Suzana Kaufman.
Walk into a synagogue anywhere in the world. Open the ark. Take out a Sefer Torah.
You will find the same words.
Those words bind us together.
The Torah belongs to a Jew in Jerusalem and a Jew in Johannesburg. It belongs to a Jew in New York and a Jew in Sydney. It belongs to a Chasidic Jew and a secular Jew. It belongs to the Jew who has studied every day for decades and the Jew who is opening a Jewish book for the first time.
The Torah belongs to every Jew.
That is also why the work we do at Aish matters so deeply. Every Jew deserves the opportunity to encounter their Torah. Every Jew deserves access to the wisdom that has sustained our people for thousands of years. Every Jew deserves the chance to discover that these words are not somebody else’s inheritance.
They are theirs.
Our responsibility is to get that Torah in front of every Jew we possibly can and give them the opportunity to discover the wisdom, meaning, and connection that are their birthright.
I finished off the week in a work meeting with two staff members, Tehilla Friedland, the COO of Aish’s Partners in Torah and the CMO of Aish, and Raphael Poch, the Director of PR and Communications for Aish. We spent an evening at my home discussing how best to do exactly that: spread the message of Aish far and wide to connect every Jew to wisdom, love, and responsibility. As I travel the world I feel strongly about bringing those lessons back to the staff so we can all feel the energy of the Jewish people.
I related to them that when I looked at those courageous children at Camp Simcha, I told them something I wanted them to know with absolute certainty.
Wherever you go in this world, the Jewish people will be there for you.
We will be there because that is what Jews do.
We belong to one another.
Standing there watching people dance with a Torah alongside children in wheelchairs, I found myself thinking about the moment in which we are living.
These are difficult times for the Jewish people. Hate is being spewed at us with an intensity that can feel overwhelming at times. I will share a little secret with you. I personally find it difficult sometimes to go on X or other social media platforms today. The sheer amount of hatred directed toward Jews can be staggering.
Spending this Shabbat in a barn that became a shul and then standing at Camp Simcha reminded me of something far more powerful than the hatred on a screen.
They have hate.
We have love.
As I get older, I appreciate more and more the wisdom of our Aish philosophy. Wisdom matters enormously. Responsibility is indispensable. Yet I find myself thinking more and more about love.
The Baal Shem Tov taught that the three loves, love of God, love of Torah, and love of our fellow Jew, are really one.
Perhaps that is the secret of the Jewish people.
Our love of God leads us to love His Torah. Our love of Torah teaches us to love His children. Our love for one another brings us closer to God.
Love is what drives us.
The people who hate Jews so often define themselves by what they oppose.
Their identity is built around what they want to destroy.
The Jewish people can never allow ourselves to be defined that way.
We are not defined by what we hate.
We are defined by what we love.
We love Hashem.
We love Torah.
We love the Jewish people.
We love humanity.
We love this world that God entrusted to us.
We love enough to turn a barn into a shul.
We love enough to dedicate a Torah to children fighting for their lives.
We love enough to dance alongside a wheelchair.
We love enough to take a broken heart and use it to heal someone else’s.
We love enough to look at another Jew whose background, clothing, politics, observance, or life story may be completely different from our own and still say, “You are my brother. You are my sister. I am here for you.”
Our enemies may never understand that.
Perhaps that is our greatest strength.
Wisdom teaches us who we are. Responsibility tells us what we must do. Love reminds us that we are one people.
Thank you for being part of this extraordinary Aish Family and for everything you do to help us reach every Jew, wherever they may be.
