Daily Inspiration
This is Challah
A word from the desk of Devorie Kreiman, LA, USA
website: https://devoriekreiman.com
I’ve heard it already.
The inspirational talk. Forwarded. Many times. A new song, a wondrous gematria, an eye-opening shiur… I’ve heard it already. How we must see beyond the ravages of this world and trust in the Bigger plan. What if I’m too wobbly to make the leap into faith and light? What if my sense of hopelessness persists?
What if I try and it isn’t good enough?
I’ve said it already.
The tefilla. The plea. I was taught the power of the words of Tehillim, how they shatter all barriers to ascend from chamber to chamber, right up to the Throne… Why is it so hard for me to lean into the certainty that if I say these words on this day, it will make a difference? A real difference in the here and now. Ahh… because it’s my belief that has to become more real. I open my Tehillim. Words of praise and yearning carried up on sighs and tears, swirling like smoke. Higher. Higher. Dissolving the decrees of steel.
How many words will be enough?
I’ve done it already.
Prepared the warm meals. Offered smiles. And money. Sometimes I’ve poured from a vessel that felt empty, and worried, even as I was giving that I was tarnishing the good deed by my hesitation. Or worse, by my resentment. Why can’t I give freely and with joy?
What if the best I have to give is not enough?
My challah bowl is dented. On one of those difficult days, it fell. Uh… Truth… It fell after I deliberately loosed my grip, knowing it would hit the floor hard. I braced for the angry smash. For the release. Afterwards, I picked up my damaged bowl and discovered that I could still use it. On the saddest day of the year, Hashem’s rage was poured onto wood and stone. Instead of onto His people. Long ago. Also now. Fires consumed our crown jewels. But… and this I wrestle with on so many of the long nights… even as the wood and stone were destroyed and the mocking laugh of our enemies was heard, were there not also the tortured screams of agony? Real people.
Enough!
I see the faces of the soldiers and read the names released by the IDF after the families have been informed that they aren’t coming home, I touch the young faces on the screen of my phone. I do the same when I pass the posters of the hostages, brush my fingers gently over the cheeks of Baby Kfir and his brother and his father and his mother and the many snatched so cruelly, I read each name out loud, son or daughter of… Not wood and stone.
“Cry out.” The Rebbe encouraged us. “Cry out Ad mosai and mean it.”
I’m no angel. I pound the dough in my banged-up bowl. Why can’t I stay focused on what matters? Why can’t I learn more? Daven more? Give more? My hands are tired. I keep going. Angels don’t make challah.
Centuries of women have worked their hands in their challah bowls, kneaded, tried… We separate the dough and set it aside. Such a small piece? How can it matter? It’s a reminder that the glory of wood and stone will be rebuilt. Better and stronger. This piece, which now is turned to ash, will be the gift of challah, eaten by holy people.
Today’s handful of dough joins the handfuls of dough offered up throughout the generations. Today’s efforts, today’s tefillos, today's choices—they will endure.
Mine. Yours.
Together, it is enough.
I hold up my piece of dough.
This.
This is challah.
You’re Not Alone
A word from the desk of Rivkah Leiba Groner, Melbourne Australia
Being pulled from all sides. How can I be there for everyone who needs me? My children near and far, grandchildren BH near and far. Shidduchim for my daughters, shidduchim for my sons. And of course our shlichus. I could be busy all day every day just on that! How can I be there for everyone and everything that needs my attention? My answer is by telling myself I am not alone.
Recently I wrote to the Rebbe asking for help! I was juggling a lot and didn’t know how I was going to manage! The letter I opened up to in Igros Kodesh (volume 3, pp. 30 – 31) was about the power of learning Chapter 41 in Tanya.
Hashem is not a King far away in His palace; He’s with us every step of the way.
Hashem, Who is the G-d of the higher and lower worlds, of everything everywhere, still focuses on the Jewish people and on every single Jew individually. We are never alone.
Hashem created the world for each individual Jew. Hashem wants my mitzvah and yours. Hashem wants each person’s efforts and each one’s connection. Hashem wants our service.
וְהִנֵה ה' נִצָב עָלָיו וּמְלֹא כָל הָאָרֶץ כּבוֹדוֹ וּמַבִּיט עָלָיו וּבוֹחֵן כְּלָיוֹת וָלֵב אִם עוֹבְדוֹ כָּרָאוּי
"G‑d stands over him, and the whole earth is full of His glory, and He searches his mind and heart (to see) if he is serving Him as is fitting." (Tanya, Chapter 41)
Hashem is standing over each individual Jew.
Hashem’s glory fills the entire world.
Hashem is searching a person’s insides, their innermost thoughts, to see if they’re serving Hashem properly.
Hashem holds the key to shidduchim. I have to do my part, call one more shadchan, look into one more idea, daven at the Ohel, say Tehillim, but ultimately it’s Hashem Who has the answer.
If we stop and think deeply about this we would realize that we are never alone because Hashem is always with us.
And that is how I try to live my life.
WholeHearted
A word from the desk of Mrs. Chana Scop, Mill Valley, California
Dedicated to the powerful heart of every Jewish woman, who continues to climb her mountain despite the challenges she faces.
You are here.
Just as you are.
Your vulnerability is beautiful.
Your passion, love, and resilience.
Still intact.
You embrace the frequency of life, as you climb your mountain with G-d.
Within the exhaustion, you still ascend.
Clinging tight to every crevice that makes space for you.
The textured stone, close to your breath.
You balance on the edge of meaningful experience.
You find footing in authenticity.
To keep moving.
To stay still.
Is the majestic choreography of the healing heart.
You welcome your younger self, into herself.
You are held, you are safe.
Your strength is powerful, despite how often you plummet into the crumbled stone beneath you.
You lie there silent, breathing the dust that suffocates you.
The beat of your heart is your only sign of life, as you remain wounded.
Yet you nourish yourself by extending your heart to G-d.
Your reach is weak, every muscle aches, yet you find comfort.
And within the depth of your pain, He caresses every tender scar.
With a prayer on your lips, you face heavenward, with whispers of gratitude to your Creator.
For in that very moment.
There is nothing more whole than your broken heart.
And with His embrace, you will forever hold yours.
Inner Connections
A word from the desk of Rochel Brown, Rehovot, Israel
All the passengers in the train car that evening of my routine commute on the New York subway silently held their breath, while receding more and more into the backs of their seats. The man's tall, menacing frame filled the entire space of the doorway to the train car. All of us made a point of minding our own business, praying inwardly that he would not unsheathe a knife or remove a pistol from his pocket. He surveyed us all, and moved forward. Within a few seconds he had exited through the next door and we slowly released our breath in relief. No one spoke at all. It was simply not the done thing. The next morning, I had to commute back to my job in Manhattan. As I stood waiting for the train, I noticed sinister graffiti on the subway station walls. It was just not a friendly environment.
At work that day I went to the tiny office dining room to pray Minchah, the afternoon service. Those recent subway experiences flashed through my mind, and I thought: “what am I doing here in New York”? I was a sheltered child of Holocaust survivors, having grown up in sunny and spacious Australia, where green trams traveled above ground, and I had never seen crime that wasn't on T.V. All of a sudden I realized that if G-d wasn't going to help me, no match-maker could either. I knocked my head against the wall in a wordless cry that came from the depths of my heart. Two weeks later I met my husband. I believe that the moment I knocked my head against the wall was something G-d was waiting for…my realization that it is G-d who is in charge.
The morning blessings (as well as many of the other blessings in Jewish life), begin with the words "Blessed are You, our L-rd, King of the universe...”. The word for world in Hebrew is 'Olam' 'עולם'. It shares the same root as 'Helem', which means hiddenness. In that sense, G-d is the King of hiddenness, and it implies that there is much more going on behind the scenes than we can comprehend in the world we see in front of us. In truth, we do not, as yet, have answers to many, many questions. Difficult questions. Still…we believe – מאמינים בני מאמינים – Believers, the children of Believers. We believe and trust that G-d wants us to continue to undertake our individual efforts to draw closer to Him, each person from within the framework of their unique challenges and unique blessings. And ultimately, it is our efforts to connect with Hashem that trigger His compassionate response to our needs.
Dispelling the Darkness
A word from the desk of Dini Druk, Richardson, Texas
Greetings from the American college campus of 2024, where anti-Jewish demonstrations have sadly become a common occurrence, and heightened security during Shabbos dinners is now the norm. For many of us, these experiences seem more like tales from history books rather than lived realities. This year, daily life and routine academic pursuits on our campus are marked by shadows and uncertainty.
Yet, against this unsettling backdrop, there shines through a remarkable resilience. Consider Lisa, who, after years of keeping her distance from Jewish life on campus, now joins Shabbos dinners regularly. Meet David, who chose to spend his summer in Israel to deepen his understanding of his Jewish heritage after facing antisemitic slurs in school. Encounter Sarah, and others like her, who now take a few minutes each Friday to light Shabbos candles, contemplating their spiritual journeys and connection to Hashem. These are all rays of light born out of the darkness of today’s campus reality.
The Jewish people have endured countless trials throughout history, surpassing those of any other community. Yet, our identity has never been defined by adversity. We have consistently sought out positivity and both reaffirmed and built upon our legacy and faith expressed in every generation. Ours is a nation that radiates hope even in the darkest times, believing that our light shines brightest when faced with darkness and challenge.
As we pray for brighter days ahead, we hold steadfast to the belief that even in darkness, we can find strength to move forward and illuminate our surroundings with positivity and joy.
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