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A Multi-Generational Bar Mitzvah Celebration: A Triumph of Resilience and Faith

A few months ago, I received a call from Jessica*, asking if I could officiate her son’s bar mitzvah. Jessica regularly attends our events and is an integral part of our community. My wife and I have known her for many years, even before she had a family of her own, and we eagerly accepted. I soon found myself immersed in a truly unforgettable experience.

The ceremony took place on Shabbat afternoon, as the young boy was called up to the Torah for his inaugural aliyah. He did a superb job donning his tallit and reading the blessings that he practiced and put so much effort into. As I looked around the room, I noticed something remarkable—the boy’s father, too, had never had the opportunity to have an aliyah before. My heart swelled with excitement as I realized I now had the privilege of performing a dual bar mitzvah ceremony—not only for the young boy but also for his father.

And that was not all! As I delved deeper into the family’s story, I discovered that their history was marked by the harsh realities of living in the Soviet Union, where Judaism was forcibly suppressed. They lived in Russia for many years, where Stalin devoted enormous resources to eradicating all remnants of Judaism, and the grandfather had therefore also never had a bar mitzvah.

But Stalin didn’t win. This family’s Jewish heritage remained aflicker all those years, just waiting to be fanned back into a roaring fire.

As I stood there watching three generations of one family celebrating their bar mitzvahs, I couldn't help but think of the powerful metaphor of the seed. Our sages teach us that a Jew is like a seed. Just as a seed can lie dormant, only to sprout forth when conditions are ripe, so can the spark of Judaism remain hidden, waiting for the right moment to ignite. And ignite it did, as we celebrated with the entire community, the shul filled with love, laughter, tears, and the sweet scent of tradition.

The next day, I had the privilege of helping the father and son don tefillin for the first time, watching the ancient Jewish tradition being passed down again through the generations.

It struck me this week that this family’s journey of resilience and faith is not unlike the Maccabees’ determination to fight for and reclaim their heritage. Despite the darkness of Soviet oppression and the very real threat and fear that Jews who lived there faced for generations, the Jewish spark remained intact.

As we celebrate Chanukah, we are reminded that even in the darkest of times, the light of Judaism can never be fully extinguished. May we continue to kindle that light, spreading its warmth and radiance to all those around us.

If Belev Echad Was Created Only for This Moment … Dayenu!

Today was one of the most fulfilling days of my life. Today I am on a spiritual high. It's a day where I simply thank Hashem for giving me the opportunity to have founded Belev Echad with my wife Shevy.

Today we saved a soldier's life.

I cannot mention his name, because he serves in an elite unit. For this article, I’ll call him “M.” M is a decorated career soldier, 42 years old with a loving wife and 4 beautiful children. M cannot name the unit or divulge any details about the missions they have undertaken. It is all highly secretive. He has served in the line of duty for 24 years. 

On October 7th, M was severely wounded in an ambush in Kfar Aza. When he exited his vehicle to save a friend who had been shot by the terrorists, he too was shot—in the spine. The bullet exploded inside him, spreading over one hundred pieces of shrapnel through his body.

Certain these were his last moments, he lay on the ground, whispered Shema Yisrael, and lost consciousness.

He regained consciousness about 30 minutes later and realized he was still alive, but his fellow soldiers couldn’t see him. When he lifted his head to signal them, a Hamas sniper shot at him. The bullet grazed his skull. He then lifted his hand to try and signal to his unit, and the sniper shot him in the arm and fingers.

By some miracle, M survived. He was taken to the hospital and spent time in intensive care, his life hanging in the balance for a while. He underwent multiple surgeries over several months, but although the doctors were able to stabilize him, he remained in excruciating pain.

I have never seen one of our soldiers in so much pain, with no reprieve, and my heart ached for him.

Something was severely wrong. He could not even sit for more than a couple of minutes. The doctors in Israel were at a loss, unable to do an MRI because the magnets might move the shrapnel studded in his body which would endanger his life. 

Every moment, M felt like he was being electrocuted. Over and over and over again.

Thank G-d, our Belev Echad team has formed a beautiful relationship with the incredible Dr. Omri Ayalon and his team, who run the center for amputees at NYU. Dr. Ayalon is a true tzaddik and an incredible human being!

So we flew M to New York for a consultation. The team at NYU examined him and spent the next few weeks formulating a plan. M had to fly back to Israel and then again to New York where everything was set up for him. The logistics of flying him back and forth were tremendous, and his level of pain every time he had to step outdoors, or in a car or plane, was excruciating. But throughout it all, M was a source of inspiration.

It would be understandable if a person in constant agony was angry all the time. But everyone who met M saw only a gentle human being—an incredible Jew, humble and unassuming, uncomfortable being on the receiving end.

The first step was the most difficult, according to the doctors—a complicated procedure performed via injection to identify the source of M’s pain. They felt confident that they had found the correct source, thank G-d, and the surgery was then scheduled.

What did they find? A small 2-inch piece of shrapnel was embedded right on a nerve, causing all the pain. And today, they were finally able to remove it, giving M his life back!

Hashem sent us these incredible doctors as his messengers to relieve M’s pain. M is like a different person already!

Thank you to all our incredible volunteers in New York who stepped up to take M to appointments, to host him for his visit and to have him for meals. Thank you to an anonymous family for donating the enormous cost to make this happen. Thank you New York! 

Thank you, Hashem, for giving us the most advanced facilities in this incredible country. Thank you to Dr. Ayalon and the incredible team at NYU who devoted themselves tirelessly to M’s case. We could not have done this without you.

When I saw the piece of shrapnel that came out of M’s back, I realized this is our nation’s true victory over those terrorists who took so much from us.

Thank you Hashem for giving M his life back, and for giving us the opportunity to help.

5000 Chabad Rabbis In A room Together!

This past weekend, I had the privilege of attending the Kinus HaShluchim, the Annual Convention of Chabad-Lubavitch Emissaries, which brings together 5,000 rabbis from every corner of the world for a weekend of learning, inspiration, and camaraderie. There’s no event like it in the world!

As I walked into the banquet hall on Sunday night in New Jersey, I was struck by the sheer diversity of the crowd. Friends and colleagues from every corner of the globe had gathered in one place, united by our shared commitment to spreading kindness, compassion, and Jewish values as the Rebbe’s shluchim.

One of the highlights of my weekend came before I even arrived at the convention. As I was driving down to New Jersey, I noticed a bus stranded on the side of the road, with a group of rabbis standing on the side of the road trying to hitch rides. Apparently, one of the buses on the way to the banquet had broken down. Without hesitation, I pulled over and offered to take five rabbis—the amount of available seats in my minivan.

As we drove, I discovered that the rabbi sitting in the passenger seat right next to me was actually my fourth-grade teacher from Johannesburg, whom I hadn't seen in 35 years! A beautiful moment—and just one of many.

I cried with thousands of my brothers and their guests as we paid heart-rending tribute to Rabbi Zvi Kogan, who was murdered in Abu Dhabi just days earlier. The entire crowd of 6,500 paid a virtual shiva call to his family.

I was inspired by Rabbi Yehoshua Soudakoff,  who was born deaf and works with the Deaf community, as he delivered a resounding and moving speech in sign language.

I felt proud as I listened to Dr. Brian Levin, a doctor in Owings Mills, Maryland, who told us how Chabad inspired him and he now puts tefillin on with all his patients.

But most of all, simply spending time with my fellow compatriots, rabbis from all kinds of communities, working on the same mission, was invigorating. Living in Manhattan creates many unique challenges, and hearing from fellow rabbis across the universe about the unique problems they face was both eye-opening and inspiring. We are all in this together.

I spoke to a friend from Cape Town who shared the unique challenges of being a pulpit rabbi. Another from Stuttgart told me that even though only 500 Jews live in his city, he still has a daily minyan and kollel of 22 locals.

I bumped into a friend from Thailand who sent me regards from people who had visited them. A fellow rabbi from Long Beach, NY, told me he is slowly conquering his town with love despite seemingly insurmountable obstacles!

I met old friends from Israel, Melbourne, Texas, and Italy. Wherever you live, there’s probably a Chabad emissary not far from you. 

But you don’t need to be a rabbi or an emissary or even religious to start making a difference in the lives of others. Reach out to a Jew in your neighborhood and have a Shabbat meal together or connect over a Torah thought. Together we’ll be a powerful force that will hasten the arrival of Moshiach and the Final Redemption.

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