Tag: learning

What might have been

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

I returned to Penn State, my alma mater, for the White Out game on October 8-11. Two years ago was my first time back since 1992, but I didn’t spend any time walking the campus or downtown. I saw how much had changed but spent the weekend with friends away from campus, except for the game.

This time was different. Arriving Thursday, I went downtown to some of the college bars with a friend. I hadn’t been to any of them in more than 35 years. The names have changed, but the energy and the feelings were the same. One of the classic bars from my undergraduate days has changed names, but they kept a section of the old bar to remind alumni like me of our college years. We hung out there, listened to an amazing band, and reminisced about our college years.

On Friday, I walked around campus. The buildings have been updated, and lots of new ones have been built, yet the streets remained the same. My freshman dorm had been demolished and rebuilt in a different location—I had a hard time finding it—yet East Halls were still in the same place. The Nittany Lion Shrine was in the same spot as when I was a student. Some of the major buildings where I had class were still there, and while they were updated, they still looked the same. As I walked downtown during the daytime, the stores were different, but the streets remained the same. It didn’t take long for me to know exactly where I was and remember what was there when I was an undergrad.

A person posing next to a large stone sculpture of a lioness in a natural outdoor setting, surrounded by greenery.

The tailgating on Saturday was incredible and felt like when I was a student. The crowd was electric, and the White Out was even more fun than I expected (it is a tradition that began well after I graduated). I had the chance to reconnect with college friends, and while for some it has been decades, it still felt like yesterday.

I found myself thinking of the road I didn’t travel. Unlike most of my college friends, I moved to Florida in 1992 after finishing my Master’s. They moved to New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and DC. That choice changed my life. As I spent the weekend with my friends from college, I was reminded of what my life could have looked like had I made a different choice and not moved to Florida when I did. The way I look at the world, the hustle and bustle of the Northeast. My career would be different; I’d have a different wife, different children, and nothing would be the same as it is today. Would it be better? I don’t think so, but it would be very different.

As I fly to Israel today, I find myself thinking about the alternate roads that could have been taken since 1948. What would it look like if the Arab states had accepted the partition plan? What would it look like if Yasser Arafat had taken any of the peace deals that were offered? What if Mahmoud Abbas, Abu Mazen, had taken the peace deals that he was offered? What if there was no first or second intifada? What if Israel didn’t withdraw from Gaza in 2005 or if they built a true state in Gaza instead of electing Hamas and becoming a terror hub? What if instead of building tunnels under Gaza, they built a society? What if UNRWA never existed and those who left in 1948 were treated like every other refugee in history? So many ‘what ifs’ that we will never know the answer.

The Hamas attack on October 7th altered the opportunity for peace. Any hope for trust was destroyed. I’ve spent a lot of time in Israel since October 7th, and the country is very different than it was prior to October 7th. The desire for peace exists, but the faith and trust that it can happen are gone. It will take a long time to rebuild. I have spoken to many people who have been called to reserve duty on a regular basis. Many have spent over 500 days in reserves since October 7th, away from their families, stressing the relationship with their spouse and children, harming their business and economic health. The entire country has PTSD, and it won’t go away quickly.

As I look at my life choices and what could have been if I had made different ones, I do not have any regrets. I love the life that I have. My choices eliminated one possible life, but what they have given me is far better. When I look at Israel, I’m not sure the same can be said. With the election in just a few weeks, I have had many Israelis tell me that this election is “for the soul of Israel.” I’ll be in Israel during the election, and I know many Israelis flying back to vote. This is another one of those critical choices. Whoever is the leader of the next government will impact much of the future. Will it be Bibi and the continuation of current policies? Will it be somebody else who begins to address the challenges of the Haredi not serving in the military and the horrible policies of Ben Gvir and Smotrich? Will it be somebody who continues to draw the ire of the world, or somebody who can provide hope for a brighter future?

An infographic displaying political candidates with their corresponding numbers and party affiliations for the upcoming elections, including headshots and names, set against a dark blue background.

These moments happen in our lives on a regular basis. The choices we make have incredible long-term impact. I look at my own life choices, and it is easy to see how so many of them changed the course of my life: who I am, what I value, and the way we raised our children. Israel has had many as well. This election is another pivotal one. Israelis will choose the path for their future. I don’t have citizenship in Israel, so I don’t vote. It doesn’t mean I have no opinion or hope for the outcome; it merely means that I don’t have a say in it. It also doesn’t mean that the results of the election won’t affect me. They will affect every Jew in Israel and the diaspora. We watch and hope.

As I am on my way for my 26th trip to Israel today, I am reflecting not only on my personal life choices and the choices of both Israeli and Palestinian leadership but also on what each trip has brought to me. The more I go to Israel, the more I see, the more I learn, and the deeper my understanding of the challenges Israel faces and those faced by Jews in the diaspora. There are no simple answers; it is incredibly complex in a world that desires simplistic answers.

This trip has planned experiences that will challenge me in every way. I’m excited to dig deeper and learn more. No matter how much we know, no matter how many times we have been to Israel, there is always more to understand. There are always more questions to ask that don’t have answers. One of the things I have learned from my own personal life choices is that the questions are often more important than the answers.

Ask yourself, what do I think I know about Israel and why do I think I know it? How have I been wrong in my own life that helps me understand that maybe I am wrong when it comes to understanding the complexities of Israel? What can I do to learn more about the complexities of Israel and the Middle East and not just take the simple answers and the easy way out?

Returning to Penn State and my college and graduate school years opened my eyes to the many possibilities that existed for me and how my choices shaped what I gained and what I gave up. It is critical that we view Israel the same way. What do we think we know and why? How can we learn more and challenge ourselves to understand more? Who do we need to meet and speak with to understand the various narratives that create not just Israel but the entire region? How can we meet the various people we need to in order to gain perspective and understanding?

During the next three weeks I’ll be all over the country, meeting with lots of different people with lots of different experiences and perspectives. Generals. Lt. Colonels. Mossad. Shin Bet. Doctors. Hospital administrators. Survivors from October 7th. Palestinian leaders. Visiting villages in Area C affected by the settler terrorism. Ramallah. Hebron. Bethlehem. Samaria. Jordan Valley. Gaza Envelope. The Lebanese border. Tel Aviv. Jerusalem. Meeting with Israelis, Druze, Palestinians. I’ll even be on a zoom with doctors and nurses in Gaza. Deep experiences. Challenging conversations. What I think I know will be challenged. I’m excited for it. I will learn and grow. My understanding of the complications in the region will grow.

Ask yourself, what I am doing to deepen my understanding of Israel and challenge my beliefs? When the opportunities arise, will I take advantatge of them?

The Hospital for Broken Souls

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

There is something special about Fridays in Israel. While Shabbat happens everywhere in the world, Friday in Israel, especially in Jerusalem, just seems different. There is a different energy, a different vibe. There is a buzz in the air, an excitment about it almost being Shabbat. It is something I don’t think I can adequately explain – it’s something you have to feel, you have to experience. This Friday was no exception, especially because it is Jerusalem. There was an energy in the air, a vibe that you can’t describe, you can only feel.

Being in Jerusalem always creates a desire for me to learn. One of my favorite teachers, Ari Ben-David joined us to explore some facinating questions. Today’s topic was “What am I?” A great and deep question. Being in Israel and in Jerusalem, we went to the Torah to explore it.

If you are like me, the image of torah study that I grew up with was boring. Reading these stories with no context and taking them literally. Over the years, I have learned that is not torah study. It’s simply reading stories. Torah study involves discussion, analysis, questioning, and debating. That’s what we did, led my friend and amazing educator, Aryeh Ben-David. Aryeh took us through Genesis chapter 1, verse 1 and half of verse 2. That’s it. All we needed to spend an hour or more discussing the deep topic, “What am I?”

He asked us to pick one line in chapter 1 and one line in chapter 2 that most answered the question. In chapter 1, we agreed on verse 26, “And God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” In chapter 2, we agreed on verses 7 and 8, “the Lord God formed man from the dust of the earth. He blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a human being.” So we are the image of God, have God inside us, and are dust. Simple points.

It doesn’t end there. Dust is our physical being but the image of God and having God inside us is our soul. That’s the competition we face every single day. Every single decision. Dust (physical wants and needs) vs. soul (the greater good). Dust is about the self and immediate pleasure. The soul is about all and comprises the past, present, and future. What will we choose when faced with the decision? That’s the key question that each of us answer every day with every decision. It’s not about always choosing one over the other – there are times when we need to choose dust and there are times when we need to choose the soul. It’s about being conscious of the decision. What a mind blowing realization on a Friday morning in Jerusalem? With Shabbat approaching quickly, it’s a deep thought to take to the Kotel.

I love the energy of Machane Yehuda, the shuk, especially on a Friday. I went to help bring the catered food for Shabbat dinner to our room and get everything set up before heading to the shuk. A little bit of soul work. When I got to the shuk, as usual it was packed. I wanted to get to my favorite gluten free bakery there to get a bunch of challah, challah rolls, babkah, dates and walnuts. Most I will bring home and freeze, but I wanted a challah I could eat for shabbat and dates with walnuts to snack on. It was 100% for dust, for my own wants and needs. While there, I got to buy some desserts for Shabbat dinner (parve rugalach from Marzipan) and wine for those at dinner. A little bit of soul, doing things for others, since I wasn’t eating the rugalach or drinking the wine. Torah into action.

We got to the Kotel for shabbat very early. It was fairly empty when we arrived which gave us time to spend at the wall in deep thought and prayer. For the first time in a very long time, I had the time and space to sit in a chair at the kotel and just be. To let the air and the spirituality overwhelm me as I did nothing but sit and be. It was incredibly peaceful and powerful. I looked at the notes in the Kotel that others had left – their prayers, hopefully answered. I saw Jews of all shapes and colors arrive and pray. As the sun began to set, I felt the quiet and peace around and inside me.

If you’ve never been to the Kotel for Shabbat, it’s quite an experience. It never gets old for me. The singing, dancing, ruach (spirit) and connection is incredible. This was no exception. We gathered together in the plaza and prayed, sang, danced, and connected. We listed as others, in bigger groups, did the same but even louder. It was more than personal prayer – it was the feeling of a people coming together as one. As somebody who doesn’t love services, I always love Friday night at the Kotel. When we finished our prayer, I wanted to go join one of the others.

Instead we began our walk from the old city to where we were having Shabbat dinner. It was about a 40 minute walk, on a beautiful night, exiting through the Armenian Quarter and continuing up Jaffa Street until we arrived. The table was set for 15, the food was plentiful, and the company divine. I love the Shabbat table where you have a little bit of prayer, a little bit of ritual, and a lot of food and conversation. We prayed, ate, sang, and talked for a few hours, getting to know each other better, sharing pieces of ourselves, and enjoying the beauty of peoplehood, Shabbat, Jerusalem, and Israel.

During our learning with Aryeh he asked us what Jerusalem really was. We threw out a bunch of answers before he gave us his. He said, “Jerusalem is the hospital for broken souls.”. Powerful, beautiful, and true. Each of us has our own cracks in our soul. It’s part of being human. In Jerusalem we can get the treatment to begin the healing process for our soul. I’ve always loved Jerusalem but never really had a deep understanding why. Aryeh’s explanation fits. When I’m hear, my soul gets the treatment it needs to heal. To improve. To be better. I can get out of focusing on the dust, on my wants and needs, and instead focus on my soul. On the bigger picture. On being of service instead of what’s in it for me.

If you’ve never been to Jerusalem, I encourage to visit. To explore. To open your heart and heal your soul. If you’ve been – come back. It’s time for another treatment.

This was a wonderful Shabbat filled with happiness, joy, friendship and peace. I want to do my part to make sure they are all like this, no matter where I am.

Lessons – will we ever learn?

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

My youngest son graduated college on Friday. It was a momentous occasion in his life and in ours. My mom came in to celebrate and attend the graduation. I treasure these moments more and more as time goes on. We sat in the auditorium, watching where he was sitting (he helped us find him, texting us his location and turning around to us and waving), and waited for him to have his name announced and walk across the stage. As a parent, it was an incredible moment for many reasons.

My mom and Matthew at graduation – I treasure these moments more and more.

I noticed a few things surrounding his graduation that got me thinking. They may seem totally unrelated, but for me, they all tie together.

On the drive to campus for graduation, I noticed a few things. First, how many people drove as if they were the only car on the road. Turning right from the left turn lane. Going straight and trying to outrace cars from the left turn lane. Where was the common courtesy? Where was basic rule following? I laughed as one car that did this ended up far behind me – they almost caused an accident to end up behind the car they had to cut off.

The second thing was that when I tried to be kind, to let cars in ahead of me, how they wouldn’t accept the kindness. They wouldn’t go in front of me. It got me thinking, “When did kindness become so rare that people don’t recognize it?”

At the graduation, it was the same conflict. They asked not to scream and yell when your loved one’s name was announced as it meant the next name couldn’t be heard. Yet people screamed, drowning out the name of the next person graduating. Rudeness and lack of caring was all over the place. As I went to video my son about to walk across the stage, the people in front of me had to stand up, blocking my view. No awareness of people around them. I stood up, moved slightly, and was able to video and watch him walk. Had they done that a minute later, I would have missed it.

Yet the number of people willing to take pictures of my family when asked, the number of families who I took pictures of when asked was remarkable. The wishes of congratulations to strangers because they were celebrating the graduation of a loved one was remarkable.

What a dichotomy. It got me thinking that perhaps America isn’t really as lost as it appears. Perhaps there is hope. Perhaps we can regain our country from the extremes and return to a world of kindness, caring for others, and awareness of the world around us. Perhaps we don’t have to live in a world where it is ‘my way or the highway’ on every single issue.

I do know one thing for sure. It starts with each of us. We may not be able to change the entire country but we certainly can change our own behavior. We certainly can change the world of those around us. I hope we can all make a commitment to do our best to be kind. To be aware of those around us. To celebrate with those who are celebrating and to embrace joy rather than hate. It is how we will save our country and our world.

A little more than 10 years ago, I began writing about the rise in Jew hatred. It was controversial at that time to use the words Jew Hatred. I used them anyway because that’s what I was seeing. Swastikas being drawn on buildings in Seattle. This article in the Seattle Times on June 26, 2016, got pushback that it wasn’t happening and that this was all being overblown and exaggerated. We see now that unfortunately, I was right. This article, almost 9 years old today, is hard for me to re-read because of what has happened in those 9 years. Because of what was being called out then that was ignored by so many. Because of October 7, 2023 and what has happened since then. The signs have been there and far too many of our ‘leaders’ have chosen to ignore them.

Take for instance, this harrowing exchange between David Horowitz and a student at the University of California San Diego in 2010. This was FIFTEEN (15) years ago. The only difference between then and now is that Horowitz would be booed offstage now, this vile, hateful woman would be cheered, and the University would defend HER hatred instead of protecting Jewish students on campus.

The Jew hatred on campus was clear in 2010 but we ignored it

We saw things like this years ago but failed to take it seriously and failed to act. As a result, our Jewish students on campus today are faced with incredible antisemitism. I spoke with one of the leaders of Mothers Against Antisemitism from the Dallas chapter this week and the stories she shared about the University of North Texas were horrifying. Students afraid to be publicly Jewish in any way. Jewish/Israel speakers being spirited to campus at night, under the cover of darkness, to an unadvertised speech because had it been advertised, students would have been too afraid to show up. The work we have been doing has simply failed and we must admit it. We built building on campuses while the Jew haters built departments, programs, and hired Jew hating professors and administrators. We put Jewish names on libraries and centers for performing arts while the Jew haters invested in teaching that Jews are evil, are powerful and responsible for all the bad in the world, that Israel is a genocidal country that doesn’t want peace and are colonialists that want to take over the entire middle east and the world.

My friend Adam Bellos wrote a powerful piece last week. Most of you likely did not see it or read it. I encourge, no I implore you to read it. To think about what he writes. To take action to change the current reality. He writes:

This is the tragedy: we trained kids to explain checkpoints without explaining Herzl. We taught them to debate apartheid without introducing them to Ahad Ha’am, Rabbi Kook, or the Book of Joshua. We armed them with casualty charts, not courage. With U.N. resolutions, not roots. With talking points, not Torah. Hasbara failed because it tried to outsource pride. Because it assumed the average young Jew could fight for Israel while remaining estranged from Hebrew, from Zion, from the soul of their people. Because it traded the moral complexity of the conflict for the false clarity of press releases.

Why Hasbara Failed: We Fought the PR War, Not the Real One

His summary is a beautiful and powerful statement that I believe in, have advocated for, and continue to push to create.

And so, this moment demands something entirely different: a revolution of Jewish education. A renaissance of context. A return to knowing who we are, not just what we’re defending. We don’t need more content creators to explain why Israel is right. We need Jewish children who know why they are Jewish. We don’t need another “crisis comms” playbook. We need people who speak Hebrew, dream in Zion, and learn how to walk into a room not begging for understanding but embodying truth.

We need to make sure we are providing quality and meaningful education to our children and, in all honesty, to our adults. As my friend Ari Shabbat often says, “The Torah is playbook for life”. If we don’t know this, don’t know how to use it, don’t bother every learning that it can be interesting, fun, and meaningful to learn Jewishly, how can we survive? If Israel becomes just another country rather than our spiritual homeland, Judaism will never be more than meaningless rituals that we do because our parents did them. There will be no meaning in hanging a mezuzah, putting on tefillin, or identifying as Jewish. We will merely be Jewish because we have been told we are Jewish. To me, that is unacceptable. I hope that you find it unacceptable as well.

I was deeply saddened to hear the news that Rabbi Sholom Lipskar (z’l), the longtime leader of The Shul of Bal Harbour and founder of the Aleph Institute, died this week. I had the privilege of meeting Rabbi Lipskar a number of times and the community he build at The Shul of Bal Harbour is extraordinary. I found him to be a man who didn’t accept the impossible. His vision impacted not just the South Florida Jewish community but the entire South Florida community and the world. I found him to be a kind man, always willing to listen, always seeing the good in people, and working to make the world a better place. If you want to read a little about him, you can do so here. The world is certainly a bit dimmer without him in it, however his teachings and life’s work remain to inspire us all.

At the end of the day, we are left with one simple question. What are we going to do? Are we going to be like Rabbi Lipskar (z’l)? Are we going to take action as Adam implores us? Are we going to take the time to learn what being Jewish is really about? Are we going to make the effort to be kind to others? The world we live in today is one that is short on kindness, on wisdom, on compassion, and on knowledge. Are you going to believe whatever somebody decides to tell you or are you going to actually learn something? Are you going to only listen to one narrative or are you going to engage with others and learn both with and from them?

The choice is yours. Just remember that choices have consequences. We are where we are today because of the choices we made years ago. When we look back in a decade or two, I hope that we are happy with the choices we make now and that we have the type of world so many of us desire and want to work to build.

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Am Yisrael Chai – we need to live not die

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

There isn’t a lot in this world that really shocks me. Maybe it is because I have low expectations of our leaders and of the people in the world. Maybe it is because I expect people to say dumb, uneducated, and ill-informed things. Perhaps it is because I have seen people feed off of hatred and believe anything that fuels their hate. It may even because I have come to believe that most people are dumb. Our education system is broken. They aren’t taught, they don’t learn the basics, and everything is based on headlines, clickbait, and opinions rather than facts.

Since October 7th, I have found myself being consistently shocked by one thing. The number of Jews who put their own self-interests and needs low on their priority list. Maslow’s heirarchy of needs clearly shows how the basics, food, water, shelter, etc. are the base. That is what we need most of all. Second is safety and security. I watch so many Jews place their own safety and security much lower on the list, concerned much more with the things in self-esteem and self-actualization. They are important but not at the risk of one’s own safety.

This has been bothering me a great deal lately. So much so that I had trouble sleeping last night. I dreamt that I was talking to the Jews who were killed in the Holocaust, murdered by Hitler and the Nazis. They were yelling at me about things such as equal rights, women’s rights, freedom of worship, access to health care, marriage equality, etc., telling me that I would have no need for that after they murdered me. These were all things that mattered to people who were alive, not to people who were dead. It shook me and I awoke at 3:30 am, unable to fall back to sleep.

Murdered Jews by the Nazis. Without safety and security we have nothing.

They are right. All the things we put value on in our society only matter to the living. Once we are dead, clean air doesn’t matter to us because we are no longer breathing air. We don’t need drinkable water, because we aren’t drinking fluids. It doesn’t matter who we have the right to marry because we are not getting married, we are dead. The only one with rights to our bodies are the undertakers who are preparing us for burial or cremation. These are truly first world problems and challenges and I am grateful that we have them to fight for. They are important and matter – when we are alive!

Some may say, “What about your children and grandchildren? Doesn’t it matter to them?” Here is the unfortunate news. They are not coming to kill just me. They are going to kill my children and grandchildren too. My brother and sister. My nieces and nephews. None of us are exempt. So once again, when they are alive, it matters a great deal. But when we are all dead, killed because we are Jews, it doesn’t matter at all.

Many people think I am overreacting. They think I am fear mongering. Perhaps. I hope so. The Jews of the 1930s thought so until it was too late. The rise of Jew hatred has been visible for a long time and I have been told I was overreacting for more than a decade. I wish they were right. The monthly drawing of swastikas on buildings in Seattle have grown to daily instances of violence against Jews around the world. Just yesterday, on Shabbat outside a Chabad in NY city, a Jewish man was stabbed by somebody yelling “Free Palestine”. His crime was being Jewish. I remember my African-American friends talking about the problem of “Driving while black” or “Shopping while black”. I empathized and thought I understood. I realize now that I didn’t.

This is an election year which makes things even more sensitive. People support one candidate or party over the other and demonize the one they don’t support. I’m not asking for anybody to comment on this blog about which candidate/party they support, why, or why the other one is evil. What I find shocking in this election cycle is how the survival of the Jewish people isn’t the number one concern for every Jew. In a world that is filled with Jew hatred, where violence against Jews is increasing daily, where the calls for violence against Jews is increasing daily, the fact that our safety and security isn’t the top priority stuns me.

I wonder if the changes in Jewish life over the past 50 years of so is the reason why. My grandparents knew that being Jewish meant a risk to their safety and security. They lived through the Holocaust, albeit in the United States. My Uncle Ralph, who lived through Kristallnacht while hiding upstairs with his grandmother, was 9 years old when his family left Munich to escape the Nazis. After escaping, he and his family had to deal with the Japanese, an ally of Germany, taking over in the Philipines. He understands the risk of our safety and security,

My Uncle Ralph speaking via Zoom to the Orlando community on International Holocaust Memorial Day

Today’s generation does not. They believe they are American’s first. They believe that America will always protect them. While I hope this is true, the Jews of Germany felt the same way until it was too late. I watch as Jewish college students align themselves with Students for Justice in Palestine, Jewish Voice for Peace, Code Pink, and other groups that hate Jews, are funded by Jew haters, and are aimed at eliminating Jews. I shake my head. When I see Jewish LGBTQ+ students holding signs that say “Queers for Palestine” I wonder how much they really know about Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Palestinian Authority. If they understand how they would be treated by those governments.

It reminds me of a story my friend David Abramowitz tells about his father, Rabbi Mayer Abramowitz z”l. Rabbi Abramowitz was the founding Rabbi of Temple Menorah in Miami, a very successful synagogoue. In 1989, at 75 years of age, with a lifetime contract at the syngagogue, he shocked everybody by telling them that he had failed. The youth were not educated and were not staying Jewishly connected. He left his lifetime contract to create a radical program with a radical idea. The Jewish Leadership Institute (JLI) would take students to Israel at a highly subsidized price to teach them leadership and infuse them with a Jewish connection, Jewish knowledge, Jewish values, and how Judaism is relevent in their daily lives. This was a decade before Birthright. Fifteen years before MASA. 31 years before RootOne. I have seen the impact of this program since 1998. It’s more than what Birthright and MASA do because the mission is different. I was on the trip in July and saw the impact during the trip, not just after the trip.

See the impact it made me wonder how much of what we see with Jews not prioritizing our safety first and being stuck on Tikkun Olam, thinking that repairing the world is the greatest thing we can do, even at our own expense, is because of a lack of real knowledge. Over the past few years I have been investing some of my time in learning more Jewishly. High quality and interesting learning. Content based learning. Things I can apply in my daily life type of learning. I think this impacts the way I think, the things I value, and certainly my actions.

One example is the first prayer we say in morning services. I’m not a service goer and would never have known anything about this without being taught. We thank God for the rooster knowing the difference between day and night. It’s a prayer of gratitude. It’s a prayer to remind us to pay attention to the beauty of nature and all that is around us. In a world filled with so much darkness, I now start my day by saying thank you to God and being grateful for all that I have in my life and that is around me. It’s a simple thing to do and I do it in english. It’s my own prayer and awareness. It also helps me stay out of the negativity that is so pervasive in today’s world.

It’s been over 10 months since October 7th and we still have hostages being held in Gaza. The Red Cross has yet to visit them. They are never mentioned by the UN or UNRWA. We cannot forget them. We know the importance of human life in Judaism, Pikuach nefesh. We know that the mishnah tells us that whoever saves a life saves an entire world. In Israel in July, we learned and sung the Acheinu prayer at least once a day. It’s not an ancient prayer and is only 35 years old. It was easy to learn and easy to sing. Every day, I continue to sing the Acheinu prayer to make sure I never forget the hostages. Judaism gives us these reminders all the time about how to behave. This prayer is just one example.

I have also learned that when we praise God for all the amazing things he does for us, it is a reminder that we are made in the image of God and that we are supposed to strive to be that way as well. We are not expected to do things that will harm us however. The exceptions abound where our health, our lives, take precedent over everything else. The Talmud tells us very clearly that, “You shall live by them, but not die by them” and is based on Leviticus 18:5. When I see people doing things that harm the Jewish people or the State of Israel because of their belief in Tikkun Olam or Jewish values, it frustrates me because they harm themselves and the Jewish people with a faulty understanding. It’s always fair to criticize a government and a leader for their decisions, policies, and actions. When they are undermining the Jewish people, the State of Israel, it is not ok. That’s what they do. I have former students of mine who claim they love Israel as they work to rip the country apart. I wonder, “Where did I go wrong?” How was I unable to teach them where the lines are between criticism of governments and criticisms of the Jewish people?

My dream from last night of the victims of the Holocaust scolding me will haunt me for a long time. They are a reminder that life comes first. Without our lives, everything else doesn’t matter. Make no mistake, Iran, Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthis, and the Palestinian Authority want us all dead. From the River to the Sea means no Jews – we are all pushed into the sea. They openly say it. They don’t hide their intentions. When they say they are going to kill us, we need to believe them.

We continue to make the same mistakes. It is our history. We try to fit in and think they will leave us alone. We work to be a part of their country and think they will appreciate us as part of their country. We think if we only give them what they want, they will leave us alone. What we forget is that what they want is for there to be no Jews. What they want is to kill us all. This is thousands of years old and we are once again making the same mistake again. As my father would say to me, “If we don’t take care of the Jews, nobody else will.” My friend Fleur Hassan-Nahoum says it so well when she says, “The problem isn’t that there is no Palestinian State. The problem is that there is a Jewish State.“

I hope that I am wrong. Over a decade ago, with the rise of Jew hatred, I openly said that I hoped that I was wrong. This isn’t something I want to be right about. Yet I was right about the rise of Jew hatred. I was right about the far left and their hatred of Jews when everybody said it was just the far right. I don’t want to be right here, but I fear that I am. We need to stop helping them kill us. We need to stop thinking that they will like us, want us, and leave us alone if we just go along. History shows that never happens.

Invest in learning about Jewish values so you can apply them appropriately. Invest in Jewish practice that you find meaningful, whatever that may be. Visit Israel to see the reality, not what the Jew hating media tells you. Be proud to be Jewish and don’t hide. Don’t think it will just pass you by. The thought that keeps playing in my head is what far too many friends in Israel have said to me. “I hope you can move here before it is too late and they won’t let you leave.“

What are you waiting for? Am Yisrael Chai.

Fighting antisemitism by being Jewish

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

I have been talking and writing about the increase in antisemitism and Jew hatred for a decade now.  I saw it when I was living in Seattle when a swastika would be drawn/painted on a Jewish building almost monthly.  I called it out then and many people thought I was being reactionary and fear mongering.  I was pointing out what was happening.

Over the past decade, it has only gotten worse.  Since October 7th, the rise in Jew hatred has become frightening.  Violence against Jews is now common.  Shooting at Jewish schools happens too often.  Ugly, racist protests occur on college campuses and in the streets in the US, Canada, and throughout Europe.  Israeli Olympic athletes are threatened with death.  The Palestinian athletes are allowed to wear shirts with bombs dropping on Israel, but the Israeli athletes are not permitted to wear the yellow ribbons for the hostages.  The list goes on and on. 

I have mentioned many times how I’m not super religious but very Jewish.  Over the past few years, I have been digging deeper into what being Jewish means to me outside of services.  Like many people, services don’t connect or inspire me.  I knew there was much more to being Jewish than just religious services so my exploration into Jewish spirituality, text and how it applies to my life, and finding more meaning have been a big part of my recent journey.

As I learn with Rabbi Ehrenkranz, we include a bit of prayers to understand the why instead of the what.  My recent trip to Israel with the Jewish Leadership Institute (JLI) also focused deeply on the why instead of the what.  My recent trips to Israel have also been an exploration into the why instead of the what.  Why does Jerusalem matter?  What is the point behind some of what we do?  What is the intention?  The goal?  The objective?  I have found that when I understand the why, I can adapt the what to fit my life and what is meaningful to me.  Judaism has adapted since the time of Abraham, Moses, King David, and even the 2nd Temple.  We don’t pray the way they did but we can connect to God and each other the way they did.  I find that very meaningful.

Rabbi Ehrenkranz started a monthly Sunday morning Minyan (prayer service) that I began attending because he asked me to.  Often times, just asking somebody you have a relationship with gets them to do what you ask.  It turns out most of the people who attend are friends of mine, so it becomes a social gathering as well as an opportunity to grow.  I appreciate how Rabbi Ehrenkranz explains the goal of each part of the service.  It has enabled me to move away from reading the Hebrew words that I don’t know what they mean and instead think about the goal and objective and connect that way.  It has turned an experience that was rote into one that is meaningful.

This Sunday, with all that is going on in Israel and the recent attack by Hezbollah on the Druze village, I chose to wear my IDF tzitzit (ritual fringed garments).  I got them from Rabbi Atlas in the IDF as I am helping him with a project to fund the 5,000 mezuzahs the IDF needs.  I don’t wear them regularly and in fact, this was the first time that I wore them under my shirt like you are ‘supposed’ to.  It was a way to connect to Israel, the IDF, and Judaism.  I feel that way about mezuzahs too – something that is easy to put on your door and have a meaningful symbol without being required to be super religious.  It’s an easy thing to put on your doorpost and show Jewish pride both internally and externally.  If you don’t have one and want one, MyZuzah will give you one for FREE!  And if you want to support the IDF in their effort to get their needed mezuzahs for IDF soldiers, there is a dollar for dollar match and you can buy them for the IDF here for $30 each.

At the minyan, I spent the time during the silent Amidah (the major prayer of the service) in my own mediation and conversation with God, thanking God for all the gifts in my life today.  In my learning with Rabbi Ehrenkranz, part of what I have learned is that most of our prayers are really a reminder to ourselves about how we should live and how much we need to be thankful to God for our lives.  As such, I took this time to focus in this area.  It is easy to take so many things for granted in our lives and this gave me a few minutes to really focus on things and express my gratitude.  Instead of reading Hebrew words without meaning, this time was special because it was focused on gratitude.  It reshaped my entire day as I realized not only how lucky I am to live the life that I do but also that it is only by the grace of God that I have so many gifts.  I am grateful to Rabbi Ehrenkranz for helping me find meaning in something that didn’t have meaning before.

We sang Acheinu, the prayer for those in capitivity, for the hostages. I began singing this in Israel in July and it has become incredibly meaningful to me. It’s an easy song to sing, a powerful prayer to say, and reminds me to keep the hostages front and center in my mind. That, along with my ‘Bring them home now’ dogtag that I wear every day keeps my priorities front of mind. It has been almost 10 full months of captivity and the reports now coming out from released hostages are horrific. I’m glad that I learned the how to sing it and do so daily. It takes me a couple of minutes, fills me with gratitude for my life, and doesn’t let me ever forget the hostages.

Over the past few years, I have been very lucky to have some amazing Jewish mentors and teachers.  People who expose me to things that are meaningful and show Judaism in a different way in which I can connect.  Harry Rothenberg, Ari Shabat,  Saul Blinkoff, Lori Palatnik, Mickey Singer, David Abramowitz, and Rabbi Ehrenkranz are just some of them.  Each exposes me to different things to think about.  Each one expands my knowledge and enriches my life in different ways.  Pirkei Avot says, “Find yourself a teacher, acquire for yourself a friend”, and I have found this to be true.  Each of these teachers are also friends and only one is a Rabbi!

As somebody who raised somewhat religious and is not any longer, I have found deep meaning in Judaism through understanding the why of what we do.  The what doesn’t really mean much to me but the why is something entirely different.  As antisemitism grows and Jew hatred explodes across the globe, I have found investing in my Jewish identity and Jewish meaningful practices to be important.  I have begun to bake challah again.  I make sure to say thank you to God every morning for waking me up (the basis of the Modeh Ani prayer), and since I learned about thanking God for making the rooster understand the difference between day and night, I thank him for the beauty of nature and this world. (It is a funny prayer that we start with – almost like the Rabbi’s are pranking us!)

Many people think it is all or nothing.  You either go to synagogue or you don’t pray.  You either can pray in Hebrew or you don’t pray Jewishly.  You keep kosher or you aren’t really Jewish.  You keep Shabbat one specific way, or it doesn’t have any meaning to you.  I have found just the opposite.  There is incredible gray in Judaism once you understand why we do things.  Then you have the opportunity to do what is meaningful to you to accomplish the goals. 

I encourage you to explore the why.  To learn about why Israel matters to Judaism.  To understand the intent behind the services and the prayers we do.  It will open doors for you to grow in ways you can’t imagine.

Thoughts from my July 2024 Israel trip

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

I returned from Israel about a week ago.  It was my second trip this summer and very meaningful on many levels.  I love going to Israel and being in Israel.  Everybody in my family knows how much I enjoy being there, how meaningful it is to me, and I’m sure there are some who expect that one day I will make Aliyah and live there.

This trip was highlighted by a few things that I think are very important, not just because they mean so much to me but because they highlight a bigger picture of Israel and the meaning to the Jewish people.

We got off the plane and after changing, the first thing we did was go to work the land.  There is something about Israel and working the land that is incredibly gratifying.  We went to pick apples that will be given to those in need.  It was a hot morning, and we had our water and hats and off we went.  There were two huge bins to fill that looked daunting when we began.  Yet working the land in Israel meant that we worked hard.  Very quickly the first bin was halfway full.  We talked, we laughed, and we picked apples.  Halfway through filling both bins, we took a break to eat some fresh watermelon.  By fresh, I mean it was picked just to cut up for us. 

Israel was founded by working the land.  “Making the desert bloom” remains a key goal and catchphrase.  There is something about getting your hands dirty in Israel by picking fruits and vegetables that is incredibly rewarding and meaningful.  It ties you to the founders of the State of Israel.  It ties you to 3500 years of Jewish history in the land of Israel.  I’ve been to farms in the Negev where they are growing fruit and vegetables in the sand and picked them.  I’ve helped with lemon trees in the Gaza envelope.  I’ve been to a friend’s Moshav near Gaza growing all sorts of fruits, vegetables, and nuts.  Now I have picked apples.  It’s incredibly rewarding, and I can’t wait to do it again.  I learned about Israel Food Rescue, an opportunity to volunteer picking fruit and vegetables in Israel to help harvest the food needed since the loss of so many Thai workers and Palestinian workers since October 7.  Israel gives you an opportunity to really give back, not just with money or time, but with your hands and sweat equity. 

I had the opportunity of this trip to meet and do some work with incredible leaders of Israeli civil society.  I went to the Knesset to meet with MK Sharron Haskel, an amazing leader who represents a new generation of Israeli leaders.  As we reach a crossroads in Israel with leadership, she is part of a new generation that will shape the future.  I met with former Deputy Mayor of Jerusalem, Fleur Hassan-Nahoum, who I met a number of years ago and is a friend.  Fleur is also part of this new generation of Israeli leaders who will change the shape of the country.  Fleur spoke to our group and captivated them with her brilliance.  Her analysis of the possibility of a 2-state solution, a 1-state solution, and other options for peace was fascinating.  She recently debated former Ambassador Dennis Ross on the topic and I can’t wait to watch it when it is released on August 2nd.  I met with Brigadier General (ret) Amir Avivi and my friend Lt. Col. (ret) Yaron Buskila about the future of leadership in the IDF and the Jewish world.  They are doing some exciting work and I have the opportunity to be a part of it and learn from them.  I met with Lt. Col. Rabbi Yedida Atlas who oversees the religious aspect of the IDF.  He gave me a pair of the IDF’s tzitzit (ritual garments worn under your shirt) that since October 7, IDF soldiers, regardless of their religion, want to wear for spiritual protection.  Later that day, I had the chance to help make tzitzit for the IDF which was incredibly meaningful.  I am working with him to get enough mezuzahs for the IDF due to the war and all the reserve call-ups.  I was on a zoom call with my friend Roni Ekele, the Director General of the Ethiopian National Project (ENP) and childhood friend, Grace Rodnitzki, the Director of International Relations for ENP.  ENP provides critical services for the Ethiopian Israeli youth to ensure their success in Israeli society. 

With Member of the Knesset Sharron Haskel
Lt. Col. Rabbi Atlas and me
With my friend Lt. Col. Yaron Buskila
With my friends Fleur Hassan Nahoum, Lisa Barkan and Rabbi Randy Brown

In Israel, you have the ability to meet, befriend, and work with incredible leaders.  They are accessible.  They are friendly.  They are passionate.  I have great hope for the future of Israel because of these leaders – the future leaders of the country.  In America, we are very concerned about the future of our leadership.  We wonder where the quality leaders are and where they will come from.  In Israel, we see them emerging in all aspects of society. 

This was a leadership trip for 19-26 year olds. We had a very diverse group on the trip. Some graduated Jewish Day School. Some were entirely secular. Some knew nothing. Throughout the trip, we learned something with everything we did. The Torah study was interesting as we explored the ‘why’ of the first verses in the Torah. Not the story but what the lesson is behind the story. The things that affect us today. Services were not about the ritual of the service but the meaning of the prayers. Not just what we say, but why we say it. We sang, “L’dor V’dor”, from strength to strenth, throughout the trip, reminding us of our place in Jewish continuity. We sang Acheynu ,the prayer to free captives, for the hostages. As we stood under the Kotel, on original flooring from over 2,000 years ago, we sang it, one of the more powerful experiences I have had in Israel. At our last dinner of the trip, everybody had a chance to share their feelings about the trip and the experience. It was powerful listening to what everybody got out of it. I’m excited to see what this group of leaders is going to do. Just like the future of Israel is bright with their future leaders, I believe that American Jewry can also have a bright future with these type of leaders. It takes effort. It takes work. It’s not easy to find them, recruit them, train them, and pay for all of it. But we must. I have seen the impact of this trip for the past 26 years. I have seen what engaging the future of Jewish life in a meaningful way means and does. It is something I am committed to and I look forward to sharing some exciting plans for 2025 in this area. This trip, seeing what happened for these future leaders, has inspired me to do more. So pay attention, something very exciting is coming in the very near future in regards to young leadership!!

Singing Acheynu for the hostages while standing on a 2,000+ year old original floor under the Kotel
Our group of future leaders after making sandwiches for those in need. The future is bright!!

Israel is a special place. If you haven’t been to Israel, I can’t really explain to you what it’s like. If you have been, I don’t have to. There is something in the air. Walking the streets of Jerusalem is unlike anywhere else in the world. Floating in the Dead Sea, swimming in the Mediterranean Sea, doing a water hike in the lower Galilee, eating on the edge of the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee), looking at the Golan Heights, being at the Kotel, working the land – each is so much more than just an activity. There is a connection. There is deep meaning. Israel isn’t just a place you visit. It visits your soul. It visits your heart and your mind. As we sat in Machane Yehuda one night, the traditional middle eastern market that turns into a nightclub, the buzz was amazing. The music was pumping. The energy level was high. And then they played ‘Am Yisrael Chai’. It touched us all in our hearts and in our souls. We knew it was more than just a nightclub. We knew it was more than just a fun place to be with friends. It was home. It was a connection to thousands of years of history and of family. Israel changed us all for the better. Am Yisrael Chai.

The party at Machane Yehuda at night – Am Yisrael Chai is playing

Who am I? Find for yourself a teacher.

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

As I have said many times, I am not a religious person.  I don’t go to synagogue often.  In fact, a monthly Sunday morning service is all I do right now.  And I only go because of the way it is done.  It is done in a meaningful and intentional way.  It is done not only for the ‘how’ of praying but more importantly for me, the ‘why’.  I began learning Torah with a Rabbi a few years ago because I valued the discussion and questions that came out of the process.  Studying Torah became about how I choose to live my life today rather than learning some stories verbatim and being able to repeat them back.

I often think that the challenge people have with religion and services, both in the Jewish and non-Jewish communities, is that we are taught only the HOW.  We are never taught the WHY.  One of my favorite parts of being Jewish has been that I have begun to ask the WHY question and don’t really care that much about the HOW.  The WHY is what matters. 

Simon Sinek’s amazing Ted Talk about Start with Why. The Why matters.

It’s interesting that for a guy who isn’t religious, doesn’t really like going to synagogue, doesn’t keep kosher, has his own definition of keeping Shabbat (I don’t do work but I drive, cook, drive a car, turn on the TV, etc.  I just don’t do professional work (most of the time)) that I find wisdom in the Torah.  As a few friends and teachers have told me, “The Torah is the instruction manual for life.”  I think it’s because of the teachers that I have found and the way they teach, how they explain the WHY of things rather than the literal story, that I find meaning and inspiration to be a better person.

I was excited that on this trip, the young adults and I were going to have the opportunity to learn some of the WHY from my longtime colleague and friend, Aryeh Ben-David.  From my experiences with him over the past 15 or so years, I knew that he would get to the WHY and boy did he.  He did in a brilliant and simple way, using only the first verse of the Torah. 

Genesis verse 1 talks about the creation of the earth.  Most of know the story of the six days of creation and the 7th day God rested.  None of this was what Aryeh discussed.  Instead, we focused on THE major life question.  WHO AM I?

Three words.  None more than 3 letters.  Yet it is perhaps the most asked and the most challenging question for all of us.  We start the Torah with the big question.  Judaism doesn’t mess around.  Let’s get right to it. 

As we discussed the question first in chevruta (pairs of two) and then as a big group, we were able to bring it together with Aryeh’s guidance to two things.  First, we are made in God’s image so that we are all perfectly as God intended.  This also means we have to strive to be more Godlike in life.  Secondly, we are both dust and soul.  The two don’t get along.  They fight constantly over us.  Are we focused on the here and now and pleasures of the body?  Or are we going to be focused on delayed gratification, making things have meaning, going deeper into what we are doing and why we are doing it?  Every choice we make is between the immediate pleasure or the delayed gratification.  The shallow or the deep.  One thing became very clear.  While there are people only for the dust (immediate pleasure), they are few and far between and typically easy to identify because they look like a caricature.  There are very few who are all about the soul (delayed gratification) and they are also easy to identify.  They are monks.  They deny the physical entirely, never marrying, living in isolation, depriving themselves of everything but the basics.  The challenge is the balance between the two.

There is a place for the dust.  We want nice things and there is nothing wrong with having nice things.  Good food.  Good wine.  A nice house.  A nice car.  Good clothes.  An enjoyable sex life.   Money in the bank.  The ability to travel.  The question is always, “at what cost?”  Where is the balance?  At what point are we only serving ourselves and not serving the larger community or God (and if you don’t believe in God, replace the word with nature or civilization or whatever you want).  Do we want to be like the wealthy attorney who owns the huge fields in Israel that we picked apples at and who donates all the food to those who are in need, or do we want to be the person who owns large parcels of land and lets them sit empty because they merely want to make a profit on the resale of the property?  Do we want to keep all our money, time, and talent for our benefit or do we want to give our money, time and talent to help others and improve the world.  These are the questions we need to ask.

In these crazy times that we currently live, this first verse of the Torah is more important than ever.  Do we want to fight hate or make money off it?  Do we want to hide and stay quiet, hoping it will pass us by or do we want to do the right thing and stand up against it?  Do we want to spend the time to get educated and understand the nuance or believe the soundbites and move on?  What are our morals?  What are our ethics?  What do we stand for?  The old saying, “If you don’t stand for something you will fall for anything” has never been truer.

We can even take this into the United State political arena.  Do you want to be part of the country that hates the other part of the country?  Do you want to live in hating the other political party and their candidates?  Would you rather work to solve our society problems?  These are choices we get to make every day.  Do we want to be spending more of our time on the dust, the physical plane or the soul, the spiritual plane.  Note that none of this has to do with religion or even being Jewish although the thought and questions come from the Torah. 

Each day we get to ask ourselves these questions.  Each day, when we wake up, we have the opportunity to make new choices.  In a different session, as we discussed a few of the prayers, there were two that jumped out at me.  The first, Modeh Ani, is what we are supposed to say every morning.  It is a simple thank you to God for letting us wake up.  It also ties into the dust and soul issue.  Our soul leaves us at night and returns in the morning.  Sleep is for the physical, the dust.  While I don’t usually say the Modeh Ani when I wake up, I do thank God every morning when I wake up.  It’s the first think that I do (maybe the second after using the bathroom).  I thank God for giving me the day ahead and everything that comes with it.  It takes me a minute or two and it’s really very simple.  “Thank you, God, for the day ahead and everything that comes with it.  I am excited to be alive today and grateful that you gave me the gift of life today.”  That’s the entire prayer.  Each morning when I say it, it inspires me to take action in the day, no matter what the day entails.  Sometimes I say it out loud, sometimes in my head.  I say it every day.

The second prayer that jumped out at me was the first prayer of the morning service.  It is a strange one.  We thank God for giving “the rooster understanding to differentiate between day and night.”  What a weird thing to say as the very first prayer of the service. We all sat there thinking about why we would say that.  What makes that so important to have it be the first prayer of the morning service.  Our teacher talked to us about how the most precious thing we have in life is time.  On a trip with a group of young adults, all under 26, that’s an interesting concept to discuss.  Time is endless for them.  They are in the beginning of living as adults.  We talked about how Judaism ensures we mark time to remember how important it is.  A bris or baby naming.  Bar/Bat Mitzvah.  Wedding/chuppah.  Yahrzeit (anniversary of somebody’s death).  We constantly mark the passage of time to not forget how important it is.  We say this prayer so that we notice not just the passage of time but also that we pay attention to all the little things that happen every single day that we take for granted.  The sun rising.  Food to eat.  Clothes to wear.  Shelter.  Loved ones in our life.  The rooster knowing the difference between day and night is to symbolize nature and all the things we take for granted.  We start each day with gratitude by saying Modeh Ani or our own thank you to God for the day ahead.  Then we thank God again for all the things we take for granted. 

What a way to start every day.  As most of you know, I’m not very religious so saying the Hebrew prayers isn’t something that I do regularly.  Every day, I do thank God for the gift of the day and now I have the opportunity to thank God for all the things I take for granted.  Maybe that will help me notice them during the day and not take them for granted. 

On my trip to Israel last month, we learned about what a miracle it is to wake up in Jerusalem.  To breathe the air in Jerusalem.  To walk the streets.  This morning, I woke up in the Southern Galilee to beautiful views.  God as an artist.  We rode jeeps around the area, looking at the fields growing fruit and vegetables.  At the mountains and the sky.  At the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee).  When we are in a different place and see the beauty around us, it is very easy to notice it.  What about in our own daily life?  What about in our own homes, looking at our own backyards? 

View of the lower Galilee. The Kinneret n the distance. Israel, Syria, and Jordan in the background.

As I spend two weeks of July in a country at war after spending 10 days here in May and planning another 10 days in August, I am so grateful for many things.  Grateful for the existence of the State of Israel.  Grateful to the IDF who protect this country.  Grateful that I have the ability to come to Israel as often as I have in my life.  Grateful for the pioneers who made the desert bloom.  Grateful to the leaders like David Ben Gurion, Moshe Dayan, Golda Meir, Shimon Peres, Menachem Begin, Yitzhak Rabin, Ariel Sharon, and many more who created this country.  I have the opportunity to live in the dust, enjoy being able to come here and enjoy the food, the people, the beach, and everything it has to offer.  More importantly, I have the opportunity to live in the soul as well, fighting on Israel’s behalf to educated and inform people about what it is really like and what is really happening.  I have the opportunity to let my soul open up while here and make sure it stays open when I return home. 

A short video from the lower Galilee with Israel, Syria, and Jordan in the background. It highlights how close everything is and is a way for me to educate and speak out on Israel’s behalf.

In Pirkei Avot 1:6, there is a famous line that I have chosen to live by.  To paraphrase it, we are charged to find ourselves a teacher, make them our friend, and judge others with grace and giving them the benefit of the doubt.  While all three are important, I sometimes struggle with the third and it is the first two that I am living by.  I have found myself not just a teacher but a few teachers.  They have become my friends.  They provide me guidance to be a better person.  They explain things and I ask lots of questions.  They make it relatable to my life today, in 2024.  One of my teachers, who I have been learning with and from for more than 20 years, told me a few weeks ago that I was now a yogi.  That was high praise from him and I’m not sure that I really believe that, but I have come a long way.  They all continue to inspire me.  I learn from all of them. 

So, who are you?  Where do you stand in the balance of dust and soul?  If you don’t know, that is totally ok.  Most people do not know.  Find yourself a teacher.  Make them your friend.  Learn.  It is not about being more religious.  It is about learning life lessons and how to apply them.  It is about finding meaning for you in what you choose to do.  It is a deeply personal journey and a powerful one.  I encourage you to begin the journey.  From my experience, it is one you will really enjoy.

My favorite band. One of their great songs. Who are you? That’s the key question.
In case you want to listen. Watching Keith Moon on drums is always a joy.

The path back from the cliff isn’t easy but it is there. Will you take it?

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

I boarded the flight to Israel today around 11 am.  We took off at noon for the 11 ½ hour flight from Miami to Tel Aviv.  This is my least favorite flight to take as it’s very difficult to sleep during the daytime after a good night’s sleep and when we land, it’s the start of a brand-new day.  It’s great to land and have the full day in front of you, but when you are tired and it feels like midnight, it’s not always so easy.

On the flight, I chose to get the internet package. Knowing it was daytime and I’d be awake for most, if not all, of the flight, I thought it was a good investment.  As I spent the flight checking emails and responding to texts, I realized that when we landed in Israel, not only were we going to start by volunteering to help by picking fruits and vegetables, but we were also going to spend the afternoon at the Kotel, the Western Wall, one of the holiest sites in Judaism.  One of the traditions is to write prayers and put them into the wall so they are close to God.  Since I had such a long flight, I went on social media and offered to put prayers into the Kotel for whoever wanted one.  All they had to do was message me what they wanted the prayer to be.

I didn’t think much of it and expected a few people would respond.  I was overwhelmed as the requests kept coming in.  Without sharing any specific people or what they requested, I will say that a great deal of them were related to health issues.  It is a reminder that there is a reason the saying is, “healthy, wealthy, and wise.”  Health comes first.  Without health, we have nothing.  There were requests for a better world.  Requests to help loved ones who are struggling.  Nobody was asking for the ‘wealthy and wise’ part of the saying.  All the requests were truly selfless.  A few people thanked me for offering to do this for them.  I often take going to Israel for granted.  This is my 22nd trip and the 23rd is already on the books this year.  Israel is truly a core part of my soul and my personal identity.  Today, on the flight, these requests were a reminder of how lucky I am to go to Israel once, let alone 22 times. 

These requests also got me thinking about the world we live in today and the world it appears most people want to live in.  They are not the same place.  The world we live in is filled with selfishness.  It is filled with ‘haves’ and ‘have-nots’.  It is filled with people who desperately want to obtain and keep power.  It is a world filled with ego.  When half of the United States hates the other half, we are not living in the world that most people want. 

These requests made me think about the world we would like to live in.  A world where we cared about other people.  A world in which doing the greatest good really mattered, whether it helped the individual or not.  A world filled with love, not hate.  A world in which we were more concerned with giving than getting, with doing rather than taking.  What would it look like to live in a world where kindness was the most valued commodity? 

Imagine a world where we didn’t hate but rather worked to understand each other.  Our differences were celebrated rather than used to create a reason to hate.  As I watched this video, I couldn’t help smiling when he said, “Babka is my middle name” or when he called rugelach, “roo ga losch”.  He is filled with curiosity.  He wants to explore a different culture. I want to watch him try gefilte fish, kasha varnishkas, shakshuka, cholent, and so much more.  How much fun would it be to watch people of different cultures explore the unique foods of another culture?

On this trip to Israel, we have 12 young adults.  6 males, 6 females.  Twelve very different people, who come from different backgrounds, with one similarity. As I met most of them for the first time, I loved their differences.  I can’t wait to spend two weeks exploring a post October 7th Israel, leadership, and Jewish thought with them.  I can’t wait to hear their thoughts, their impressions, their opinions, and their ideas.  As I write that, I can’t imagine our world leaders saying the same thing about each other.  I can’t imagine our country’s leaders saying that about each other.  It shows me that there is a path back from the cliff we are on, if we want to take it.  It’s not easy.  It’s not comfortable. 

A perfect example of how close to the cliff we are is the text exchange between Deans at Columbia University that was released by the Department of Education.  The texts are bigoted.  They are hateful.  They are unbecoming a leader and an educational institution.  Three of the Deans are currently suspended pending an investigation while one, Joseph Sorett, has falled on his sword and not only won’t be suspended, he is guaranteed to keep his job.  Normally, with evidence this damning, you could count on them getting fired.  Yet in the world we live in, with what we have seen in the past 3 months on college campuses, there remains a good chance they will all return to their positions with merely a slap on the wrist and by making an insincere apology.  As you read the text thread, your blood may boil the way mine did.

Instead of approaching this with empathy, care and concern for Jewish students at Columbia, these four Deans, Susan Chang-Kim, the Vice Dean and Chief Administrative Officer, Matthew Patashnick, the Associate Dean for Student and Family Support, Cristen Kromm, the Dean of Undergraduate Student Life, and Josef Sorett, the Dean of Columbia College, utilize stereotypes, antisemitism, hate, racism, and everything they are supposed to fight against to mock Jewish students, Jewish professional leadership, and antisemitism. Their titles show how powerful the positions they hold are.

The 3 Columbia Deans that have been suspended

We all have a choice. Do we want to be like the Deans of Columbia University or do we want to work to change the world, seek to understand rather than to be understood, strive for the best for humanity, be kind, and treat others with dignity and respect. It seems like a simple choice, however in the world we currently live, it isn’t.

I choose the latter. I choose to do things like meet with my Palestinian friend in East Jerusalem to have meaningful and respectful discussions. I choose to listen and learn both with and from the twelve young adults on this trip. I choose the harder path, one that leads to a better world but isn’t easy. When I go to the Kotel later today with all these notes from other people, detailing their prayers, their hopes, their dreams, I choose to be an instrument of good, placing each one carefully into the wall. With each one I place, I will ask God to grant them their prayer, their wish.

We are not stuck in the world we live in. We have the ability to change the world one step at a time, one day at a time, one action at a time. I hope you will join me.

Try it, you’ll like it!

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

I went to minyan this morning.  For those that know me or follow me, you know that I am not religious and rarely go to synagogue.  The Rabbi that I learn with has begun a monthly Sunday morning minyan and I have committed to going to support him.  I bring my tallis and tefillin (the prayer shawl and the black boxes that go on your arm and your head) and one of my many prayerbooks that I rarely use to join the group.  Somehow, the group is always a group of friends so it’s a bonus to see them too.

I have found that I really enjoy going.  It’s not because I have become religious, it is because the service is done in an intentional and meaningful way.  As we go through the prayers, what we are actually praying for and about is explained very briefly.  “This section is where we ask God to help the world in difficult times.”   Simple.  Clear.  It provides context to what we are saying and why we are saying it.  It’s a tour through the prayerbook.

It reminds me of the playbill at the theater where they tell you what each scene is going to be.  When I learn with my Rabbi friend, we start by exploring the Siddur.  When we started doing this, I wasn’t very excited.  Services haven’t been meaningful to me in a very long time and exploring the Siddur wasn’t on my list of things to do.  I decided to be open to it and as we discuss a prayer and I understand what it is and why we say it, it has become interesting.  It reminds me of what my friend Roie, an IDF soldier at the time, said after Shabbat services.  The conversation went as follows:

Roie:  So you know how to read the Hebrew words?  

Us:  Yes.

Roie:  And you know the tune to sing it?

Us:  Yes.

Roie:  But you have no idea what you are saying?

Us:  That’s correct

Roie:  I don’t understand!

This was repeated over and over again.  He couldn’t understand how we could know the words and the tune but not what we were saying or why we were saying it.  He understood that just knowing the words and the tune wasn’t enough.  It wasn’t meaningful.  We were missing out on the entire purpose of what we were doing.  How could Judaism be meaningful if we didn’t know what we were actually doing or why we were doing it.

I turn 57 this year and these minyanim are the first time that the parts of the service were actually explained.  As the different sections were explained, it began to make sense.  There was actual intention in each part.  There was a purpose to what we were saying.

One of the things that really struck me today was his explanation of the Modim Anachnu Lach prayer.  It was so simple and so basic.  He said, “Nobody can say thank you to God for you except you.  You have to thank God yourself.  That’s what this prayer is for.”

Wow.  Three short sentences and the prayer that I have said at services most of my life suddenly had real meaning.  What I have found is that Judaism has great meaning.  We simply don’t provide that type of content to our children and as a result, when they are adults, they aren’t interested.  When we show the meaning, people get engaged and excited. 

There was recently a great poem written by Lizzy Savetsky titled, “The Six Pointed Star”.  It talks about who we are and points out that the hatred of today provides us with a reminder of who we are and that perhaps, we need to get back to basics and remember we are Jews and what being a Jew means.  I hope you enjoy her reciting it as much as I did.

The Six Pointed Star

There is something special about being Jewish.  I am not saying that Jews are better than anybody else.  It’s a more than 3,500-year-old peoplehood.  My friend Avraham Infeld had many sayings that I love.  One was when he would say, “Judaism in NOT a religion.  We are a mishpacha (family) that shares a common religion.” 

Those words struck me not only the first time I heard them but every time after.  They resonated with me.  Being Jewish is about being part of a family.  It’s about being part of something bigger than yourself.  It’s why going to minyan this morning felt good.  I was with family.  We were spending our morning together.  We greeted each other with hugs.  We spent time after the minyan talking about our lives. 

It is why Jewish holidays are a big deal.  We get together for a Passover Seder, to light the Hanukkah menorah, to eat in the sukkah or to dress up and eat hamantaschen.  Every holiday is about being together.  This year, I spent Yom HaZikaron (Israel’s Memorial Day) and Yom Ha’atzmaut (Israel’s Independence Day) in Israel.  After October 7th and in the middle of a war, it was more important to be together.  It meant more to Israelis that we were there than ever before.  Their brothers and sisters from across the Atlantic came to support them.  Their brothers and sisters came to show support and love. 

Part of the reason Judaism and Jews are still here, more than 3,500 years later, is because we are more than a religion. Rabbi Harold Kushner z”l, in his book, To Life, asks the question, “What do you have to believe in order to be Jewish?” It is a great question. The answer is very simple. NOTHING! You don’t have to believe anything. You are born Jewish. If you convert, the minute you convert, you are now Jewish forever. Don’t believe in God? You are still Jewish. Don’t believe in keeping Kosher? Still Jewish. Don’t want to pray 3 times a day? Still Jewish. Don’t wear a kippah or follow the laws of Jewish purity? Still Jewish. Another of my favorite Avraham Infeld quotes is when he talks about people who convert to Judaism. He says there is no such thing a convert. The minute you convert, you are a Jew. Period. But, he says, there is a term ‘converted Jew’. This is somebody who is Jewish who converts to another religion. He says, “They only think they are the other religion. They are still a Jew.” We are more than a religion. We are more than a people. We are a mishpacha (family). So why not get to know your family a little better? Why not learn about your family? The more you learn, the more you will love your familiy and the more you will be happy and feel lucky to be a part of this family. As the famous Life Cereal commercial said, “Try it, you’ll like it”.

Lessons to make me a better person

Posted on by Keith Dvorchik

Shabbat (the Sabbath) is an interesting concept.  A day of rest.  A day where you don’t do work.  A day of reflection.  What is it really and what do words like rest, work, and reflection actually mean? 

I have never found an interest in ‘keeping shabbat’ (following all the rules) in a strict sense.  Not turning on light switches or the using the remote control never made sense to me.  Driving isn’t really work, is it?  You turn a key or push a button and it starts.  After that, what’s the difference?  Not turn on the oven or stove.  Why can’t I push buttons on the microwave or the air fryer?  And not carry?  Why do pants have pockets anyway? 

When I am in Israel, Shabbat becomes a little bit clearer.  I typically find that I look forward to it for a number of reasons.  First, by the time Friday afternoon arrives, I am usually wiped out.  The thought of having a day with little to do and a chance to really unplug from the prior week is attractive.  Going to the Kotel (Western Wall) for Shabbat services is always fun and meaningful.  You’ll hear more about that later.  A nice dinner with friends that is leisurely and relaxing?  Sign me up. 

On this trip I had the privilege of learning from three amazing people.  As we were walking back to the hotel on Friday after an amazing morning at the Begin Center, I started asking Lori Palatnik, the founder of Momentum, about Shabbat.  I understand the prohibition about not working and a day of rest, but my definition of work isn’t starting and driving a car, turning on the stove or oven and cooking, turning on the TV, changing channels and watching shows.  So how does that reconcile?  Lori taught me something interesting that I am still chewing on.  She told me that there is no prohibition against work.  That is a wrong interpretation.  The prohibition is for creating.  And the reason there is a prohibition against creating is that Shabbat is a chance to honor and recognize THE creator, God.  The reason she doesn’t do these things is because they involve creating.  On Shabbat, it’s all about our creator, God. 

It is an interesting concept to take a day each week and use it to honor and thank God.  I meditate and pray every day.  I have for more than 35 years.  I don’t use a prayerbook when I pray, it’s a quiet conversation with God.  Over the years it has gone from asking him for things that I wanted to thanking him for the things that I have.  When I meditate, it’s often in silence, just focusing on my breathing and paying attention to all the sounds around me.  I get in touch with God and with the world.  Sometimes I will do a guided meditation to mix it up and they are enjoyable as well.  But most of the time, my meditation is about getting closer to God. 

So what if I was to expand my practice of prayer and meditation to take a full day each week and focused entirely on that connection with God?  I don’t know that I’d go to synagogue or follow a formal process, but what if I were to unplug, honor our creator, and not worry about making anything for a day?  It’s an interesting question and one that I will ponder for a while.

I also had the opportunity to learn with Rabbi Yakov Palatnik, Lori’s husband.  I have seen him on other trips, but this was the first time I really got to spend time with him, and WOW!  I have been missing out.  This quiet and humble man is filled with incredible wisdom.  One of the things we discussed that really intrigued me was about prayer.  As a scholar of Maimonides (the Rambam), he told me that the Rambam said you need three things in a prayer.

The first is to praise God and acknowledge his greatness.  While I am not an overly religious person, that is something I always do.  One of my favorite things to say is that God often does for me, what I can’t do for myself.  I have seen that happen over and over again in my life.  Things happen that I hate and that I think are awful and I would get upset about.  A few days or weeks or months later, I would look back and realize it was the best thing that could have happened.  I know and understand the greatness of God and it centers me and gives me great comfort.

The second is to ask for what you want or need.  As I said, I used to do this but stopped.  In part this was because of my understanding of the greatness of God.  Who am I to ask?  I don’t know what’s best for me.  Isn’t it better to ask God just to take care of me and that’s enough?  Rabbi Palatnik said no.  He said we have to ask because we have to know ourselves.  If we don’t ask it means we don’t know.  Of course God knows, and we aren’t asking for him to know.  We are asking to show that we know.  We are asking because we have done our part and done the work.  That makes sense to me but it is still going to be uncomfortable to ask for things for myself.  That is because of the third thing that Rabbi Palatnik told me Maimonides required in prayer.

You have to say Thank You to God.  That I do every day.  I thank God for giving me another day of life.  Sometimes it’s saying the Modeh Ani, but most of the time it is just saying thank you for another day.  I say it at night when I go to sleep.  I say it throughout the day.  Part of the reason I struggle with asking God for things is because I know he will take care of me and I’d rather say thank you than ask for things that I may think I want but in hindsight I wish I didn’t get.  Saying thank you to God is comforting to me. 

It is an interesting process for sure.  Over the next few days, weeks, and month, I am going to follow Rabbi Palatnik’s suggestion to listen to the Rambam.  I’m going to work to make sure I include all three components in my prayers.  We will see what happens as a result.

Lori and Rabbi Palatnik and me. Two great teachers. One average student.

The third person I got to learn from was our trip leader, Saul Blinkoff.  Saul is an amazing man, and you can google him to learn more about him.  During Shabbat, he said two things that really resonated with me. 

The first is that what you will die for determines what you live for.  It’s a fascinating concept.  He shared the story of a woman in a concentration camp during the Holocaust.  The woman looked like she was ready to end her life when she walked up to the Rabbi in the camp and asked for a knife.  The Rabbi was shocked and worried about her.  She demanded a knife again.  The Rabbi didn’t have one and tried to talk to her.  She looked behind him and saw a member of the SS who had a knife.  She walked up to him, grabbed the knife, reached down to her leg and pulled a baby out from under her uniform.  She had recently given birth and was keeping the baby a secret.  She took the knife, performed a circumcision, a Brit Milah in Hebrew, entering her son into the covenant with God.  She then gave the knife and the crying, newly circumcised baby to the SS officer, turned around and walked away.  A minute later there was a shot and the baby stopped crying.  A few seconds later and the SS officer shot the woman in the back of the head.  She knew what she was willing to die for – to be Jewish and part of the Jewish people.  So she knew what she was living for. 

It is a powerful lesson and question.  What am I willing to die for?  What is so important to me that I would sacrifice my life for it?  I have started my list and will be thinking about this for a long time.  Once I know what I would die for, I will know what I live for and can make sure that’s what I am doing in my daily life. 

The other lesson Saul taught me on Shabbat was about the mezuzah.  I have had a mezuzah on my door for many, many years.  I know what it is, why it is there, what is inside it, what it says, where the commandment comes from.  One of my clients has a focus on the mezuzah so I’ve learned even more over the past few months.  And yet, Saul taught me something new and important.  He said that one reason the mezuzah is on the door is because it signals a transition.  When we walk into the home from outside, we need to leave our outside problems at the door.  It is a visible signal to change our focus to what is inside the house, our family, and go all in.  What a really cool concept.  A visible reminder of what is important.  This is one that I have already started using.  When I walk through a new door with a mezuzah on it, I think about where I am going to and what mindset do I need in this new space. 

Saul Blinkoff teaching us. What an amazing man and teacher. Lucky and proud to call him my friend.

Learning stuff like this to challenge my behaviors and beliefs is really cool (at least to me) but that isn’t the only special part of Shabbat.  As I have said, I am not the most religious person and don’t really go to shul.  Ok, I don’t go to shul unless it is a family simcha (celebration).  In Israel, I don’t want to miss Shabbat at the Kotel (Western Wall).  It is joyous, fun, exciting, and meaningful.  There are so many different types of Jews there and so many different services going on.  And you never know who you are going to see.  This Shabbat was no exception.  As we got to the Kotel and began our service, I looked ahead and saw Rabbi Lipskier from Chabad at UCF.  I quickly made my way over to him to give him a big hug and to wish him Shabbat Shalom.  Only in Israel!  I returned to our group and the singing and dancing began.  We were a group of about 25-30 men.  This is small on Friday night at the Kotel but as we sang louder and danced, we started seeing others come over and join us.  IDF soldiers in uniform.  Hassidic men.  Men in Black hats.  Men pulling out their kippah from their pocket before they joined us.  Men with the big fur hat.  Men who looked like they belonged at a Grateful Dead show.  Even a little boy.  It was amazing to see all these different types of Jews join us to sing and dance.

When it was over and it was just our group again, I started thinking about how this was an allegory for the world.  If Jews of all different types can come together at the Kotel on Shabbat and not only pray together and separately but also join together in unification, why can’t we do it elsewhere.  Forget about the entire world, why can’t we do this in our local communities?  Why can’t we find different types of people who will be happy with their differences and yet also celebrate their similarities?  What can we do to make our local communities look more like the Kotel on Shabbat?  Different types of people enjoying both their differences and similarities.  That’s the type of world I want to live in.

My takeaway is really something else that Rabbi Palatnik taught me during this trip.  We have to be able to learn from everybody.  It is a fascinating concept that everybody has something to teach us.  It doesn’t matter who they are, where they come from, how much or how little they have, how well educated they are or are not, or anything else.  Everybody in the world has something to teach us.  I haven’t only learned from these three amazing people on this trip.  I learned from the other men on the trip.  I learned from some of the women on the women’s trip who spoke.  I learned from the French Machal soldiers and the families from Kibbutz Alumim who have been relocated.  I learned from the farmer, visiting Kfar Aza and Nova.  I learned from the Chabad Rabbi who put my tefillin on at the Kotel on Wednesday.  When I am open to thing, I can learn from everybody.

I know how to put on Tefillin but I can still learn from the Chabad Rabbi who did it for me at the Kotel.

What a powerful thought – to learn from everybody and every interaction.  That sure makes us all better people and makes for a better world.