As the next month in the Jewish calendar after Tishrei, Cheshvan, or more commonly known as Mar Cheshvan approaches, it is almost quite jarring. We are coming off the backs of joyous, spiritual holidays, most recently Simchat Torah, a holiday centered on the joyous celebration of the Torah, full of dancing, drinking and overall happiness only to be followed by a month called “Bitter Cheshvan”. We’ve just spent the last month focused on festivities to then go silent?

What is this about?

The name Mar Cheshvan can almost pay homage to the “comedown” after all of the recent joyous Jewish holidays. It is also interestingly the only Jewish month without a holiday or a fast day. After Tishrei, Cheshvan can feel empty. But there is another interpretation of Mar, the “bitterness” of the month that’s a bit more understandable. During the month of Tishrei, at the end of the holiday of Sukkot during the morning prayers is when we begin asking for rain, and as we know, rain is nourishing. Thus, we have two Cheshvans – the nourishing version of the beginning of a rainy season and the “comedown” month after all of our festivities.

This begs the question – can we bring the holiness of Tishrei and all of the festivities it has brought into Cheshvan? Perhaps a way to view the next phase in the Jewish calendar is to instead consider Cheshvan a transitional month, rather than a bitter month. We’ve been immersed in prayer, holiness, celebration and retrospection. There are no specific limitations within our celebrations of Tishrei whereas Cheshvan is the transitional month before Chanukah, a darker, colder, holiday season where we have to grasp to bring the light into the darkness. The challenge of Cheshvan is therefore clear, knowing Chanukah follows. We are the proudest Jewish version of ourselves celebrating within the month of Tishrei, most recently Simchat Torah, and Cheshvan challenges us to hold onto that Judaism as we approach Chanukah which requires us to carry within us the light of our Judaism in the colder, darker months ahead.

Rather than viewing Mar Cheshvan as a simple month, a bitter month, a holiday-less month, let us view it as an important part of the Jewish calendar. It acts as a bridge between the highs of Tishrei, and the lights of Chanukah, giving us the opportunity to carry what we celebrated into our everyday lives.

May we merit to see the holiest days with the coming of Moshiach but, until then, happy pre-Chanukah from Judaica.com!

A Roof Over My Head

It may be humbling to exit the comfort of your home to reside in a hut made with a roof of branches, knowing full well that it could rain, that the wind will find its way in thus rustling up the leafy roof, and that none of these walls surrounding you are built to actually last. But that’s Sukkot for ya.

The holiday of Sukkot comes just days after Yom Kippur where we’ve spent weeks working on our introspective work of return, connection and repentance and strangely, the next step in our Judaism is to go live outside in a flimsy hut.

Huh?

The Sukkah and its temporary nature symbolizes the fragility of life and one’s dependence on his trust on Gd. We pay homage on Sukkot to the temporary shelters of the Jews in their 40 years wandering the desert after the splitting of the Red Sea, thus forcing them to rely on Gd and their trust in Gd even if they were coming off of 400 years of Egyptian slavery. But unlike today, the Israelites had the cloud of Gd resting above them in their temporary shelter, a visual protection that they could trust. Our challenge nowadays is to shelter ourselves outside even without the tangible Divine protection that our ancestors once had.

And interestingly enough, the Talmud suggests that some sages thought that the sukkah in the desert was an actual hut similar to the ones we build now, while other sages debated that the sukkah was the Ananei Hakavod, the Clouds of Glory, that circled our nation and shielded them from the elements and enemies alike.

Yet we’re asked to build the hut, to sit under the branches, rain or shine, without the cloud; without the visible sign that we will be safeguarded. We’re asked to depend on our trust the same way our ancestors did, minus the reassurance, and that might just be the whole point. Faith that comes with assurance and visible protection isn’t much of an ask but trust in Gd without the visual of His shelter is the true pat-on-the-back moment.

Despite all of the discomfort on Sukkot, it is the one holiday the Torah titles Zman Simchateinu, the season of our joy, followed directly by the holiday of Simchat Torah, the joyous celebration of the Torah. The Torah doesn't title any other holiday as one of seasonal joy besides this one; not the clean slate of Yom Kippur, or the newness of Rosh Hashanah. But rather the one where we’re cold, uncomfortable, slightly damp, and structurally vulnerable, reminding us that the strength of the walls around us matter less than who we’re sitting under the branches with, at the meal we made regardless of comfort, and the decision to be fully present in something we know is temporary. Sukkot isn’t about trusting that we’ll get rained on but rather to sit in this temporary structure even though we might.

Wishing you and yours a beautiful Sukkot and Simchat Torah, from Judaica.com!

Yom Kippur

As we look at the Jewish calendar, specifically the months of Tishrei, it is interesting to note the way one holidays follows another. First, we have Rosh Hashana, the Jewish new year, celebrating and bringing in things anew. Next comes Yom Kippur, a day of atonement, a day of ultimate holiness within the Jewish calendar. What follows right after is Sukkot, a celebratory and family-centric holiday, and Simchat Torah, which is full of singing, dancing, and celebrating the Torah that was given to the Jewish people.

At first, they can seem like completely different holidays. While Yom Kippur is serious, quiet, and slightly jarring, Simchat Torah concludes the season with rowdiness and excitement. But when you look at them in chronological order, they tell a story about becoming a better person.

Yom Kippur is the day amongst the holiday season to stop, to reflect, and to take a step back. And then, to take a step forward. To connect, to repent, to simply talk to Hashem (Gd).

For most of the year, we are living in a fast-paced society. We have school, work, friends, homework, phones, and a million other things happening around us, keeping us busy and distracted. It can be hard to make time to reflect and get a bit introspective about who we want to be as people. Yom Kippur gives us a chance to do that.

On Yom Kippur, we are given a chance to look within ourselves honestly. Not the version of ourselves that everyone sees but rather the version that we really, truly are, the version that Gd sees that lives within us. It is the one time in the year that is dedicated to our mishaps, mistakes, and failures. It isn’t comfortable to face our bad moments but that is what makes Yom Kippur so meaningful.

Hashem (Gd) wants us to be raw and real with ourselves, to dig deep into the unrefined versions of us and vow to create change. He gives us the opportunity with Yom Kippur to do what we may not do unless we were really faced with an ultimatum of sorts — to be transcribed in the book of life or in the book of death. Gd does not want to instill fear but rather, He provokes our inner change with the knowledge of what Yom Kippur represents, which is Gd’s plan for us for the upcoming year. But, we know Gd to be loving and merciful. We know that most importantly, Yom Kippur is given to us and intended for us to simply just try.

We are not meant to be perfect, by any means, but instead, we are meant to try to perfect our inner weaknesses before Gd.

So we repent, we cry out, we beg and plead with Gd to show us mercy and then, to cure the fear hangover, we are given Sukkot. We go from tears of repentance to tears of joy, like Gd gives us figurative permission to go live.

He accepts our pleas on Yom Kippur. And then He encourages us to enjoy life. He encourages us to realize that as long as we have our family and friends, it doesn’t matter what our surroundings look like, even if the four walls around us don’t seem all that protective. Because on Sukkot, we sit in a Sukkah, a makeshift hut, to show Gd that we trust He will protect us in this new home we’ve created, with a poor foundation and lack of concrete construction. Even after reciting all of our wrongdoings on Yom Kippur, we show Gd that we trust Him merely a few days later to keep us safe in this outdoor home we’ve created. And that is the beauty of Yom Kippur.

We do not list our bad deeds to anger Gd but rather to show him we take accountability, we know we are not perfect, and that we vow to do better.

Simchat Torah, the last holiday of the Jewish holiday season, is when we end on a joyous note, the way Gd intended. Yom Kippur asks of us to reflect on the past but the holiday season doesn’t end with the auspicious fast day. We are not meant to stay stuck in the mistakes that we list before Gd on Yom Kippur, but rather we are encouraged to move forward, to seek joy, to celebrate and to give thanks in the holidays of Sukkot and Simchat Torah that follow.

It is a striking reminder that Gd is a forgiving, loving, and realistic Gd; that He understands our human nature to sin and our naturally flawed nature, but that we are not meant to let those mistakes define us. The holidays and the chronological order of them remind us that mistakes are merely the beginning of change, and  putting them behind us so that we can start over can be an act of true strength.

May this holiday season bring forth a profound newness to you, and yours. From Judaica.com, have an easy fast and a meaningful Yom Kippur!

Rosh Hashana

Rosh Hashana, the Jewish new year, translates to “the head of the year”, and is celebrated as the “birthday of the world” when Gd created Adam and Eve. Here are some traditions and customs that we follow throughout the holiday season.

It is customary as the central observance of the holiday to blow and hear the shofar, traditionally made from a ram’s horn.

Why do we blow the shofar on Rosh Hashana?

The Torah does not specify why we blow the shofar on Rosh Hashana however our sages give several reasons for this special mitzvah (commandment).

On Rosh Hashana, we coronate Gd as our King. The sound of the shofar’s loud call invites this great event and the piercing sounds of the shofar’s call is meant to awaken souls that have grown complacent, encouraging connection and repentance. Additionally, we recall when Gd descended Mount Sinai and gave the Jewish people the Torah. It is said that the sounds of a shofar’s blasts were heard during that monumental affair. It is also noted that the sound of the shofar is said to echo the war cries of our enemies that destroyed our two Temples.

Interestingly, the shofar is made from a ram’s horn. In the story of Akedas Yitzchak, the near-sacrifice of Isaac, Gd shows Abraham a ram to bring as an offering instead of his son.

The loud piercing sounds of the shofar’s call humbles us and fills us with awe before Gd. It is said that the sounds of the shofar will be heard around the world in the coming of Moshiach and hearing the shofar on Rosh Hashana fills us with hope for the immediate redemption. Finally, the Chassidic opinion teaches us that the cry of the shofar is that of a child who cries out for their parent, a longing and yearning so deep and primal. Our souls call out to Gd as the ultimate Father at the time of the shofar blowing.

When do we blow the shofar?

Aside from Rosh Hashana, it is customary to listen to the shofar blowing throughout the month of Elul to invoke the holiness that Rosh Hashana brings. It is also blown at the end of the fast of Yom Kippur, as one last call to Gd before Heaven’s gates close.

What do we eat on Rosh Hashana?

Aside from the festive meals we eat throughout Rosh Hashana, we eat customary foods. The Challah we eat, that is traditionally round on Rosh Hashana, is dipped into honey instead of salt to bring on a sweet new year. We do this on Rosh Hashana, before Yom Kippur, and throughout Sukkot.

It is also customary, following the sweet theme, to eat apples dipped in honey as we ask Gd to renew us for a good and sweet year.

Many eat pomegranate, which symbolizes the 613 Mitzvot (commandments) in the Torah, as an indication that our merits be like the many seeds of a pomegranate. Some eat carrots (tzimmes), merren in Yiddish, which also means “increase” symbolizing a year of abundance.

What is done in observance of Rosh Hashana?

Much of the day is spent in synagogue where we ask and pray that Gd grant us a sweet new year and the morning services in particular are significantly longer. The prayer book we use on Rosh Hashana, as well as on Yom Kippur, called a machzor, contains all the prayers and Torah reading for the day including everything read during the shofar blowing. On the second morning of Rosh Hashana, we read about Akedat Yitzchak, and as we mentioned earlier, the shofar blowing recalls the ram that Abraham brought as a sacrifice instead of the near-sacrifice of his son, Isaac.

They’re called the High Holidays. What’s next?

After we celebrate Rosh Hashana as the Jewish New Years, the next notable holiday is that of Yom Kippur, and the days between are known as the ten days of repentance. These days leading up to the holiest day of the year, Yom Kippur, are an invitation to repent and return to Gd. Yom Kippur is then followed by Sukkot and Simchat Torah, where we feast, celebrate and dance with the Torah knowing and hoping that Gd has prescribed us in the book of life, for a sweet new year.

Wishing you all a joyous holiday and sweet New Year from Judaica.com! Happy Rosh Hashana!

The King is in What Field?

Is it just me or is the idiom the King is in the field everywhere these days? Bloggers, email blasts, school newsletters and the likes. But what exactly does it mean that the King, our Creator, Gd, is in the field?

You see, there is a special feeling that comes with the month of Elul. The aura of Jewish living seems to immediately transform with the upcoming high holidays and the beauty of the month of Elul is in the idea that it is almost like a “buffer” month. The shofar will soon sound on Rosh Hashana, and the heavenly gates will open and close with the holiest day of the year, Yom Kippur however, we are not expected to walk into these auspicious moments blindly or unprepared.

Therefore, Gd gives us Elul.

Elul, the final month of the Jewish calendar, is considered a month of reflection, repentance, prayer, and preparation. It is the opportunity to form a renewed connection with Gd as we approach the High Holidays. Elul makes way for reflection of the past and a newfound transformation within our own lives. And at the heart of Elul is one of the most beautiful and profound Chassidic teachings: the King is in the field.

The teaching comes from Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the Alter Rebbe, founder of Chabad Chassidism. The Alter Rebbe describes a great king who is traveling toward his royal city. Typically, a king is accessible only within the walls of his grand palace, exclusively to his royal  courtship. But before the king reaches the city, he travels throughout the surrounding fields. There, ordinary folk can approach him without following the formal royal protocol.

The king greets the people kindly, welcomes them, and does not demand that they first become members of the royal court for this meeting but rather he meets them where they are.

This is the spiritual reality of Elul. During this month, the King, our Gd, is metaphorically “in the field”. He is approachable and accessible ahead of the New Year.

This metaphorical meeting does not take place in the palace or on castle grounds but rather in the field, representing ordinary life.

The field symbolizes our place of work, our homes, our communities; where we make mistakes, pursue passions, struggle, grow and keep trying. It is not necessarily a place of holiness, it is simply where life takes place.

The Alter Rebbe teaches that this is the point!

We do not have to wait until we are spiritually perfect or connected to reach out to Gd. We can meet him wherever we are.

Elul therefore holds a sacred message of incredible accessibility.

You can connect today. You can pray today. You can give charity today. You can commit today.

Exactly as you are. And while we are encouraged to take this time of year for personal reflection and accountability, the king’s warm greeting in the field signifies that the starting point for this connection ahead of the New Year is love.

The first letters of the Hebrew words Ani Ledodi Vedodi Li, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine” form the word Elul. The Alter Rebbe explains that the order of the words is significant. Starting with Ani, me, signifies that first step that we take toward Gd. We are not merely waiting for inspiration to strike us before approaching the Creator for a connection but rather we are given an opportunity to initiate however we’d like. Whether that first spark of connection comes from praying, lighting Shabbat candles, giving Tzeddakah, kissing the Mezuzah or even just a quiet act of kindness, we are saying, “I am my Beloved’s.”

During the month of Elul, we take a step toward Gd in the field and discover that He was already waiting.

Wishing you all a beautiful, inspired and introspective month of Elul, from Judaica.com!

Six Ways to Uplift This Upcoming Back to School Season

Building Jewish habits around our homes is a wonderful way to bring a faithful foundation into daily life, and this new upcoming school year offers us a chance to approach “Back to School” with a Jewish lens especially ahead of the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashana.

Below are six practical but small ways to begin:

1. Start the day reciting the morning prayer of Modeh Ani.

Before the morning rush, school prep, and backpack filling, let us remind ourselves to pause and thank the Creator for giving us life and the opportunity to begin a new day. Reciting the prayer of Modeh Ani allows us to recognize Gd’s presence and begin the day with purpose.

2. Bless our pancakes.

This suggestion may seem like satire, but it is far from it. Bringing awareness to Gd even in mealtimes is the ultimate way to instill a Jewish education in our children. A ten second blessing on our food can turn an ordinary practice into a Jewish one.

3. Give a penny, even two, to someone that may have less than you.

The mitzvah of Tzeddaka, charity, encourages us and our children to prioritize generosity, and making it a habit of adding a few coins daily into a familial Tzeddaka box habitualizes goodwill, even at a young age. A child who learns that every day can include an act of giving to those in need carries a Jewish value that lives on for life.

4. Kiss your Mezuzah on the way out the door.

We’re rushing, we’re gathering the children and we’re making sure everyone has what they need for the day. But in the midst of the morning chaos, let us habitualize the mitzvah of Mezuzah. Allowing ourselves to pause and keep Gd in our presence with a quick kiss to the Mezuzah on our way out of the house to start our busy days shifts the focus from us to that of the Creator. Just like the Mezuzah placed on our doorposts acts as a Divine protection, let us use the act of kissing the Mezuzah as a way to protect our own personal sanctity in our awareness of Gd’s presence.

5. Shabbat Shalom, hey!

The school week can be busy, especially after summer vacation, but Friday at sundown is a Divine opportunity to reset. It is the ultimate Pause button. The candles are lit, the table is set and the glasses of wine are filled. This familiar Jewish ritual of Shabbat is a gift that allows us to put ordinary life aside and focus on what truly matters at the end of the day.

6. End the day with Shema.

If the morning begins with the prayer of Modeh Ani, let the day end with the blessing of Shema, allowing us to end a busy day with words of faith. The prayer of Shema reminds us that we are never alone. It is a moment we’re given at the end of the day to place our stresses and worries into Gd’s hands, putting our ultimate and full trust in Him.

A Modeh Ani in the morning. A blessing over breakfast. A coin in the Tzeddakah box. A kiss to the Mezuzah at the door. A familiar and familial reset on Friday night. And Shema before bed.

These small moments, repeated daily, can help children, and adults, experience Judaism as something that is lived, every day, everywhere, and throughout the entire school year.

        Wishing you a successful Back to School season from Judaica.com!

The Saddest Day on the Jewish Calendar

In Judaism, we are no strangers to the juxtapositions between joyous and sad moments. For example, just a day after the new year festivities of Rosh Hashana, we mourn on a fast day called Tzom Gedalia. We remember on both Purim and Chanukah, the plan to annihilate the Jewish people while simultaneously celebrating the failure to do so.

And whether we spend the summers traveling the world, sending children off to summer camp, or parking ourselves in Upstate New York, we pause for Tisha B’av, translating to the 9th of the month of Av, what is known as the saddest day on the Jewish calendar.

What happened on the 9th of Av?

Five tragic occurrences happened on the 9th of Av but the two most important ones are the destructions of the First and Second Temples.

However, interestingly, the 9th of Av was set to be a day of tragedy long before the Temples were even built. According to the Talmud, when the twelve spies returned from scouting the Land of Israel, ten of them discouraged the Jewish people with a fearful report on the evening of the 9th of Av in which God famously said, “You cried for no reason; I will establish this day as a day of crying for generations.” Thus, we have the saddest day on the Jewish calendar.

What do we do (or don’t do) on Tisha B’av?

Beginning on the evening of the 8th of Av, after eating a pre-fast meal that ends before sundown, we refrain from eating or drinking until the evening of the 9th of Av, marking approximately 25 hours of fasting. Additionally, we do not shower or bathe, wear leather footwear or apply ointment and creams.

It is also customary as mourners to refrain from sitting on a normal height chair, learn Torah, or engage in any pleasurable activities. The 9th of Av is so strongly a day of mourning that women who are pregnant and breastfeeding are also recommended to fast, should it be considered safe for the mother and baby.

On the 9th of Av, we read the Megilla of Eicha, the Book of Lamentations, that tells the story and mourns the destruction of Jerusalem and the First Temple by the Babylonians in 586 BCE. The Megilla writes extensively about the loneliness and suffering of the Jewish people and the consequences of spiritual failures that led to the “weakened foundation of the Temple” which ultimately led to the destruction. However, it is thematically on par with the Jewish faith that while Eicha transcribes the suffering and short comings of our nation, it ends with a message of hope and a final plea for the restoration of our Temple with the coming of Moshiach. In the classic fashion of Judaism, the final words of an otherwise horrific tale of death and destruction are those of hope, redemption and renewal.

As Tisha B’av approaches and we begin the mourning process starting three weeks prior, let us pause to reflect on the tragedy of this day, allow ourselves the feelings of sadness and despair while also remembering that much like God intended, we should continue to cling on to the hope and assurance that the days of Jewish despair are temporary.

Tisha B’av 2026 begins at sundown on July 22 and ends at sundown on July 23.

Wishing you all an easy fast, recovery, and may we merit to see the rebuilding of the Third Temple with the coming of Moshiach, speedily in our days!

I was sitting beside Zaidy on our family’s back porch Upstate, the one that’s been patched, repaired, and lovingly held together for the last forty years, with cold iced teas in hand when he turned to me and said, “You know… camp wasn’t always just camp.”

As he looked out over the yard, he fondly reminisced about what camp meant when he was a lanky, Jewish kid growing up. Not just the fun of it, but what it stood for. To him, camp was one of the places where he learned that being Jewish wasn’t something to quietly hide but rather it was something to be proud of. Looking back, he realized that his persistent sense of pride didn’t happen by accident. It was built into his childhood, one summer at a time.

He explained to me, over his now second or third glass, that the earliest summer camps weren’t created specifically for Jewish children. In the late 1800s, as the Industrial Revolution drew families into crowded manufacturing cities, parents began looking for a way to give their children a break from the noise, heat, and congestion of city life. Charitable organizations, many of them religious, opened overnight camps where children could spend their summers outdoors, breathing fresh air and experiencing a slower pace of life.

But as summer camp became more popular across America, specifically in upstate New York, Jewish families ran into a familiar reality.

Many camps simply weren’t welcoming to Jews. Antisemitism wasn’t unusual — it was woven into everyday life. So Jewish communities did what they’ve done throughout history: they created spaces of their own.

That’s when Jewish camps became much more than lakes, hiking trails, and campfires. They became places where children could celebrate Shabbos openly, sing Jewish songs, learn Hebrew, discover Jewish history, and build a connection to Israel and most importantly, to one another. Summer camp was where Jewish pride was formed and lingered until the next summer rolled around.

Different Jewish organizations developed camps that reflected their own philosophies. Zionist youth movements emphasized Hebrew, Jewish history, and love for our homeland. Other camps centered around Jewish literature, culture, and social responsibility. After World War II, Reform, Conservative, and Orthodox communities all expanded their own camps, recognizing how important they had become in raising the next generation of proud Jewish leaders.

As my grandfather talked, I couldn’t help but notice how fitting our setting was. We were sitting in upstate New York, a region once affectionately known as the Borscht Belt. It was in the beginning of the early 1900s when thousands of Jewish families escaped the summer heat of New York City for the Catskills, where Jewish-owned hotels, bungalow colonies, and camps flourished. It became a place where Jewish life wasn’t just accepted — it thrived. Families spent their summers together, lifelong friendships were formed, and children grew up surrounded by Jewish traditions and community. Even though many of those famous resorts are gone today, the spirit of the Borscht Belt still lingers in the camps, communities, and memories that continue to shape Jewish summers over a century later.

As I listened to Zaidy, I realized that when he remembers traveling upstate to attend his Jewish camp, he rarely talks about the activities, the songs or the sports. Instead, Zaidy vividly recalls the friendships that lasted decades, the counselors who believed in him, and the feeling that being Jewish was something to celebrate — not something to hide.

Then he smiled and said, “You know, the Rebbe understood that too.”

He told me about the summer of 1957, when the Lubavitcher Rebbe made the unusual trip from Crown Heights to visit Camp Gan Israel in the Catskills. Considering how rarely the Rebbe left Brooklyn, my grandfather said the visit showed just how important Jewish camp was to him.

Later that same summer, one of the camp counselors had a private audience with the Rebbe. Rather than talking about sports or activities, the Rebbe spoke about brachos. He encouraged the counselor to teach the children to really think about the words they were saying and the closeness each blessing creates with Hashem. “The Rebbe knew,” my grandfather said, “that what a child learns at camp doesn’t stay at camp. It stays with them for life.”

By the time our iced teas were empty, I understood what my grandfather had meant when he first said, “Camp wasn’t always just camp.”

It has always been about giving Jewish children a place to grow into themselves. The friendships, the confidence, the songs, the traditions, the mentors, the Jewish pride—those are the things they carry home long after the duffel bags are unpacked.

From all of us at Judaica.com, we wish you and your family a beautiful, meaningful, and inspiring summer.

The Jewish Home:

There are moments in a Jewish person’s life that remind us just how meaningful Judaism is. For some, it can be a bit more profound and intense. And sometimes, it can be surprisingly simple, and even casual.

The moments after candle lighting on a Friday evening, when peace and serenity envelop the home with just the strike of a match.

The sound of the glass breaking under a Jewish Chuppah, and the joyous celebration that follows.

The mezuzah that is nailed tight to a doorpost, reminding us daily of the values we hold dear.

What encapsulates a Jewish home is our commitment to invite Divinity into the simplicity.

Judaism, at its core, is defined by how we show up as Jews in the simplest of times; in our daily lives.

It’s the yeasty smell of challah dough on a Friday afternoon or the candlesticks we gift a newlywed Jewish couple. The matching Magen David necklace that instantly sparks a connection with a fellow Jew. It’s the community we continue to build and gravitate towards to ensure we’re surrounded by those that value the same things we do.

It’s the traditions we turn to, day after day; year after year. It’s the candles lit every Friday night that brighten our Shabbat tables. It is the Menorah we light and arrange proudly by our windows. It is the art piece we display of the Western Wall thousands of miles away, to remember our Jewish history and roots. It is the large dining room table filled with relatives Seder Night, where we retell the stories of our sages and ancestors who performed the same traditions we do in this modern millennia.

In an uncertain, highly antisemitic world, living a Jewish life and cherishing a Jewish home is the ultimate act of faith. Committing to the constant invitation of our Judaism, surrounding ourselves among it, proves to all that we are not afraid of our faith, and that it is ancestral and deep-rooted beyond fear or criticism.

Am Yisrael Chai and happy summer!