Let's Be Honest: Politics & Hashgacha Peratis

Let’s be honest—when a new president takes office, the energy is palpable. The inauguration, the speeches, the promises of change—it’s all-consuming. And for good reason: leadership matters, and a new administration brings the potential for new opportunities and challenges. But as President Donald Trump prepares to return to the Oval Office, it’s worth asking: How should we, as Jews, balance our engagement with politics and our ultimate trust in Hashem? Spoiler alert: no politician, no matter how powerful or charismatic, can replace Divine providence.

Judaism values justice and societal responsibility. The Torah commands us to “appoint judges and officers” to ensure fairness and order in our communities (Devarim 16:18). The Gemara in Nedarim (28a) introduces the concept of dina d’malchuta dina—the law of the land is binding. Sefer Yirmeyahu (29:7) teaches us to “seek the welfare of the city to which I have exiled you, and pray to Hashem on its behalf, for in its peace, you will find peace.” These verses remind us that, while we live in exile, we must contribute to the society around us. Voting, advocating, and participating in civic life are critical parts of this responsibility.

But let’s not forget who’s really in charge.

The Torah repeatedly reminds us that our ultimate salvation doesn’t come from kings, governments, or political systems. David HaMelech himself wrote, “Do not trust in princes, in a human being who cannot bring deliverance” (Tehillim 146:3). History underscores this lesson. Time and again, Jews placed their faith in rulers, only to be betrayed. Whether it was Pharaoh in Egypt, medieval kings, or modern politicians, reliance on human power has consistently fallen short.

Let’s be honest, as President Donald Trump takes office, some may feel a surge of hope ourselves and the state of Israel, others a wave of concern. But neither response should eclipse our grounding in faith. Leaders will come and go. Policies will change. Promises may or may not materialize. Our job as Jews is to engage in the process while remembering that Hashem alone holds the keys to our destiny.

So, what does this balance look like as a new administration begins?

First, show up. Participate in elections, advocate for change, and speak out against wrongs. Voting is not just a civic duty—it’s a mitzvah. Rav Moshe Feinstein zt”l emphasized the importance of voting because it enables us to influence policies that affect our communities and society at large.

Second, manage your expectations. No president, party, or policy can solve all our problems. While it’s crucial to hold leaders accountable and push for meaningful change, we should temper our hopes with realism. Pirkei Avos (3:2) teaches, we must pray for the welfare of the government, recognizing its role in maintaining order, but without overestimating its power to deliver true peace. Our prayer itself is part of ensuring that we channel our focus toward who is truly in charge.

Finally, stay rooted in faith. Politics is not a substitute for Hashem’s guidance. Engage in civic life as an act of partnership with Hashem, not as a replacement for Him. The Vilna Gaon in his commentary on Mishlei (22:19) says that the primary purpose of giving the Torah to Bnei Yisrael was that we would place our faith in Hashem. Staying focused on Hashgacha Peratis.

Let’s be honest—politics can be polarizing, exhilarating, and sometimes disillusioning. As President Donald Trump takes office, emotions and hope may run high. But if we anchor ourselves in Hashgacha Peratis, we can approach this new chapter with clarity and purpose. Vote, advocate, and organize—but remember, salvation comes from Hashem, not from Washington, D.C.

Let's Be Honest: Divorce

Let’s be honest—when we hear the word “divorce,” most of us flinch. It’s a topic no one wants to touch, especially in the frum community. After all, we pride ourselves on our values: shalom bayit, strong families, and community support. The Torah ascribes utmost importance to maintaining peaceful, loving relations between husband and wife. No effort is spared in the attempt to achieve this goal. In reference to an Aisha Sota, the Gemara tells us "Great is peace between husband and wife. For the Torah says that, in order to—hopefully—bring peace between a husband and his sotah wife, Hashem’s name, should be erased in the bitterwaters." But the truth is, divorce is no longer the rare outlier it once was. It’s here, in our neighborhoods, affecting families we know, and it’s time to face it head-on.

Sure, the statistics aren’t as staggering as in secular society. The Orthodox Jewish divorce rate used to hover around 10%—far lower than the general American rate of nearly 50%. But let’s not pat ourselves on the back too quickly. Recent reports suggest a staggering rise in those rates closer to 30%. Also, the sheer prevalence of marriage in our community—an impressive 85% of frum Jews tie the knot—means that even this smaller percentage translates into more broken homes than we’re ready to admit. And we need to ask ourselves: why?

Let’s start with the obvious: marriage is hard. No matter how much shadchanim emphasize compatibility, no couple is immune to challenges. While the neshamas of couples may be predestined, this does not mean that their temperaments and habits are matching. Marriage involves a constant effort to ensure that the couple's physical and emotional sides are as harmonious as their souls.

We live in a world that glorifies instant gratification. Swipe right, click “add to cart,” stream your favorite show in seconds. But real relationships aren’t clickable—they’re cultivated. Somewhere along the way, we started believing that love should always feel effortless, and when it doesn’t, we think something is fundamentally broken. Spoiler alert: love is a verb. It’s not a passive feeling; it’s an active commitment to care, respect, and grow together, even when it’s messy.

Data shows that emotional needs and problems with communication are among the most reported factors contributing to divorce for both men and women. For women, abuse—including verbal and emotional abuse—stands out as a significant contributor. This underscores the importance of fostering open, respectful communication and addressing emotional well-being in relationships.

Erich Fromm, a renowned psychologist, defines love through four elements: care, responsibility, respect, and knowledge:

  1. Care: A deep concern for another’s well-being and growth. Thoughtful gestures and full attention are key.

  2. Responsibility: Sharing struggles and supporting each other’s well-being. Offer tangible help and regular check-ins.

  3. Respect: Valuing individuality and autonomy. Support your partner’s interests and listen without judgment.

  4. Knowledge: Understanding your partner’s emotions and inner world. Stay curious and attentive to their needs.

Marriage has been romanticized to the point where many couples enter it with unrealistic ideals. Passion fades. Disagreements happen. Kids add stress. It doesn’t mean the marriage is doomed—it means it’s normal. The Torah never promised us an easy ride; it promised us growth. But growth requires effort. And it’s the challenges that bring closeness.

Are we doing enough to prepare young couples for the realities of marriage? Premarital counseling shouldn’t just be an optional “extra”; it should be standard. Newlyweds need tools to navigate communication, financial stress, and intimacy challenges before they escalate. For many, just attending 2-4 sessions of Kalla and Chatan classes isn’t good enough.

Now, let’s be honest about the stigma: community judgment. Too often, struggling couples suffer in silence because they fear the stigma of admitting their marriage isn’t perfect. This silence doesn’t save marriages; it destroys them. The Gemara also tells us that the Altar, the symbol for communal atonement, would cry for every divorce. The Altar's weeping shows that unresolved marital conflict is a national tragedy, not just a personal issue. We need to create a culture where asking for help is seen as a strength, not a shame. Knowing when to reach out for help, prior to large issues arise and proactively seeking marriage advice should be common space in our community.

And finally, let’s reframe how we view divorce itself. Yes, it’s painful. Yes, it should be a last resort. But let’s be honest: sometimes, divorce is the healthiest choice—for the couple, for the kids, and for the community. Judging those who make that choice only adds to their burden. Instead, we should offer support and kindness as they rebuild their lives.

So, what can we do? Here are some suggestions:

  1. Normalize Support: Promote premarital and marital counseling as acts of strength, not desperation.

  2. Cultivate Resilience: Teach young people that love grows through care, responsibility, respect, and knowledge—not just chemistry.

  3. Build Community: Establish communal programs for couples to learn, connect, and grow together.

  4. Show Compassion: Offer judgment-free support to those navigating the painful process of divorce.

Let’s be honest—marriage is sacred, but it’s not immune to challenges. By acknowledging the realities of modern relationships and offering proactive solutions, we can uphold the value of shalom bayit and support those who need it most. Because our values and the way we strive for harmony set us apart from the rest of the world.

Let's Be Honest: THC

Let’s be honest—just because marijuana is legal doesn’t mean it’s all safe. If legality was a stamp of approval, we’d all be drinking alcohol with breakfast and lighting up cigarettes after dinner. Marijuana may have become normalized, but that doesn’t make it a harmless hobby. And before you start: no, CBD and THC aren’t the same. CBD doesn’t get you high and is often praised for its calming effects. THC, however, is the psychoactive compound that delivers the high—and all the potential downsides. The truth? Just because something’s from a plant or natural doesn’t mean it is safe in all quantities.

THC isn’t some mellow substance. It’s more like an earthquake: you never know how hard it’ll hit until you’re already shaking. Sure, a low dose might feel like a gentle tremor, but once you creep into the 20% THC range and up, you are using a mind-altering substance. The weed nowadays is over 500% more potent than 30 years ago. Hallucinations, paranoia, and even psychosis aren’t just horror stories; they’re real outcomes for people who thought they could handle more.

Here’s where things get serious: why are you using it? There’s a world of difference between using substances to feel something and using them to avoid feeling anything. Wanting to enhance a good mood or relax after a long day? Sure, that’s one thing. But if you’re turning to marijuana to escape stress, anxiety, or emotional pain, you’re not solving the problem—you’re just putting it on mute. And that’s a fast track to addiction. Numbing pain with weed is like putting a band-aid on a broken bone. It doesn’t heal anything. Addiction isn’t just about the substance itself; it’s about the relationship you develop with it. The moment weed becomes your go-to escape route, you’ve got a problem. And let’s be honest, most people aren’t using weed to enjoy a sunset. They’re using it to avoid dealing with life.

If you’re under 25, pay attention: your brain is still under construction. Chronic use of THC products messes with that wiring. And if mental health issues run in your family, THC isn’t just risky—it’s dangerous. Regularly using products with THC above 10% can double your risk of psychosis or schizophrenia. Think about that. Double. You’re signing up for a lifelong struggle, all because you thought “it’s just weed.”

“But it’s regulated!” Great. So is gambling, but don’t get me started on that (…just yet). Some states cap THC in edibles at 10 mg per serving, but that doesn’t make it safe. It’s a limit, not a green light. Legal limits are about reducing harm, not eliminating it. And even if the government says it’s okay, your body might have a different opinion. There are medicinal uses for marijuana, relaxation qualities, and people who know their limits and remain within them, and we can validate these choices.

However, we’ve glamorized cannabis like it’s the solution to all life’s problems. Stress? Weed. Anxiety? Weed. Can’t sleep? You guessed it. But this culture of casual use hides the risks. The more we normalize marijuana, the less we respect its power. That’s a mistake. We don’t hand out prescription meds without warnings, so why treat marijuana any differently?

Call me a Narc, but let’s be honest—you don’t need THC. You want it. If you’re using it to numb pain, ask yourself why. Legalization isn’t a free pass to make reckless choices. It’s a chance to be more informed and more cautious. So, before you roll that joint or pop that edible, think. Are you using it to enhance life—or to avoid it? Because if it’s the latter, no amount of THC will fix what’s really broken. You deserve better than a temporary escape. You deserve to feel fully, live fully, and face life head-on. Because, let’s be honest—nothing feels better than being fully present in your own life.

Let's Be Honest: Cell Phones

Let’s be honest—our smartphones have become fifth limbs. They’re the first thing we grab in the morning, sometimes before we even use the restroom or say Modeh Ani, and the last thing we touch at night, as if they are security blankets. And sure, they’re useful. But when was the last time you walked into a room without seeing someone, nose-down, glued to their screen? Exactly. They have increased disconnection rather than connection and invite unhealthy images into our eyes and homes.

You know what I’m talking about: the ding or the vibration—it’s like a dog whistle for people. And before you know it, what starts as “I’ll just check this one message” spirals into a three-hour rabbit hole of scrolling, liking, and wishing your life looked different. We’ve blurred the line between staying connected and just being consumed. So, let’s call it what it is: cell phone addiction. And yeah, it’s real.

This isn’t just some vague issue out in the world. Nope, it’s right here in our frum homes, woven into our tables and carpool lines. Technology is a tool, yes, but one with the power to fray the very fabric of Jewish life when unchecked. The Torah teaches us that our homes should be fortresses of peace and sanctity, but how do we reconcile that with a constant stream of notifications that shatter any semblance of tranquility?

Look, I get it—phones are lifelines, especially in emergencies or for checking in on kids. But when the phone is out before you say “Shavua Tov,” that’s a problem. It’s the small habits that stack up, turning what should be a day of rest into an anxious waiting game for when you can swipe back in. And, just to be clear, if your phone is being used before your Havdalah is said, it’s not just a habit; it’s a lifestyle choice.

Let’s be honest, we might not heed this call, but we can all agree the dangers that face our children. Teens face immense stress from school and the relentless comparisons driven by social media, fueling rising rates of anxiety and depression. Yet, we hand them devices with little oversight, turning phones into bottomless pits of distraction that disrupt sleep and spike mental health issues. And don’t think adults should be off the hook. If your kids see you checking WhatsApp before dinner or filming every moment for your “stories,” what message does that send? Children mimic what they see. So, when you’re scrolling through headlines or “just one more” quarter of a game, don’t be surprised when they do the same.

We’re not just any community. We’re built on values, kedusha, and a firm belief in the sanctity of the home. Yet here we are, bringing the noise of the street right into our living rooms, breaking down the walls of privacy and peace. Tzniyut isn’t just about how we dress; it’s about guarding our inner world, which social media pokes at with relentless precision.

Let’s be honest, we can all do a bit better and here are some suggestions.

  • No Phone First or Last: Avoid phone use for 30 minutes after waking up and before bed—use a real alarm clock instead.

  • Tech-Free Meals: Keep phones away during meals to prioritize genuine connection.

  • Home Reset: Establish a 30-minute no-phone rule after coming home to focus on family time.

  • Limit Social Media: Cap social media time to 30-60 minutes a day for everyone, including parents.

  • Havdalah Delay: Wait to use phones until after Havdalah to extend Shabbat’s peace.

Breaking phone addiction is tough, but as a resilient community rooted in strong values, we can model balance. Our children’s mental health, communal peace, and connection to Hashem are worth more than any notification—so let’s choose presence over endless scrolling and choose to connect with what’s in front of us rather than what’s on a screen.

Let’s Be Honest: Hachnasat Orchim

Let’s be honest—anytime we get that golden ticket invitation for a Shabbat or Yom Tov meal, we get a little spark of joy. The thought process is simple: no cooking, no cleaning, and a free pass to enjoy someone else’s food and conversation. It’s like winning the communal lottery. But what about those who didn’t get that coveted invite? Not everyone’s feeling the love. In fact, some people spent the entire Yom Tov season that just passed home alone for every single meal. And no, they didn’t choose to. The invites? They just never came.

And before you start thinking, “But someone else will handle it!”—welcome to the biggest misconception around Hachnasat Orchim. We’ve all got our reasons for passing the responsibility. “They probably have other friends.” “They might not fit in with my other guests.” “Maybe someone else already invited them.” It’s the classic case of communal diffusion of responsibility: If we all do nothing, we can convince ourselves it’s taken care of. Let’s be honest—when did Hachnasat Orchim become a quid pro quo exercise? A tit-for-tat, “I’ll invite them if they invite me next time” arrangement? When did we lose sight of what it actually means to be welcoming?

Hachnasat Orchim isn’t about filling a social calendar. It’s about emulating Hashem’s kindness, going out of our way to feed the hungry, share our space, and uplift others. Remember Avraham Avinu? When he saw three strangers, he didn’t hesitate to offer them a full-course spread, plus VIP treatment washing their feet, while excusing himself from Hashem. He knew he was not going to get invited elsewhere, he was the only Jew in existence. So why don’t we?

The reality is, a lot of folks feel awkward or even guilty about accepting invites, especially if they’re in no position to reciprocate. Maybe they don’t have the space. Maybe their budget doesn’t allow for hosting elaborate meals. Does that mean they’re unworthy of the mitzvah? Last time I checked, the requirement for Hachnasat Orchim didn’t include a reciprocity clause. If anything, we’re supposed to make people feel comfortable, not subtly remind them of their lack of a return invite.

So here’s a radical thought and some suggestions: Why don’t we stop relying on individual guesswork and start organizing? Every shul should have a dedicated Hachnasat Orchim committee. And not the kind that quietly fills slots for Shabbat dinners only if you’re a paying member. I’m talking about a committee that views Hachnasat Orchim as a core mitzvah, actively seeking out newcomers, singles, families, or anyone who might just need a warm place to land. This isn’t just about bringing members together; it’s about making everyone—member or not—feel like they belong in the community. Second, when an invitation is made and the guest asks, “What can I bring?”, don’t simply just reply by saying yourselves with some emojis. Consider directly asking for them to contribute from a list of a few small items, so that they too feel they are participating in the mitzvah. Lastly, establish more potluck meals. Potlucks are a celebration of togetherness where each dish tells a story, and every contribution—big or small—brings something or someone special to the table.

Let’s be honest, hosting is an honor, not an inconvenience. And if we truly want to be like Avraham Avinu, we’ll stop keeping score and start opening doors. If you are interested in hosting people, please contact your local shul to create a committee and be proactive.

Let’s Be Honest: Substance Use in the Jewish Community

Let’s be honest – in discussing dangers to the Jewish community, there is always something urgent on the agenda: antisemitism, navigating homeless individuals the way to shul, or active shooter situations. While each these items deserve their own discussion, there’s one issue we tend to brush under the rug, despite its steady rise: substance use.

You know what I’m talking about—if you’re taking a drink with you on your walk to shul, sneaking out of shul early to grab another “L’Chaim,” and then hitting a second kiddush before finally getting home, you might want to pause. And no, it’s not just about enjoying Shabbat a little extra. Kosher weed gummies and other substances are finding their way into our shuls. We’ve turned what’s meant to be a special day of holiness into an excuse for, well, overindulgence.

Let’s look at some numbers, shall we? A jaw-dropping 1,652% increase in fentanyl overdoses from 2016 to 2023, online alcohol sales shooting up by nearly 500%, and cannabis sales climbing 243%—and that’s just between 2020 and 2022. This isn’t some vague "general population" issue, folks—it’s in our community. So no, we can’t just shrug and pretend it’s business as usual. Substance use is here, and it’s high time we face it.

But hey, it’s not just about the Kiddush Club or those backyard Shabbat minyans that seem to require a drink for every Amen. What starts as a “harmless” drink or two quickly snowballs into something more. If your L’Chaim routine involves finding any excuse to refill your cup, it’s time to ask: when did casual turn into compulsive? The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (NIAAA) defines binge drinking as hitting a blood alcohol concentration of 0.08%—which is typically about 3 drinks for women or 4 for men within several hours. If you’re checking those boxes on a Shabbat, that’s not “celebrating,” it’s sliding down a very slippery slope.

Now, let’s talk about weed. Yeah, it’s natural, it’s legal in many places, and it’s no big deal, right? Wrong. Cannabis use isn’t just for men anymore, either. If your wife handed you this article, time to pass it back to her. Women, trying to cope with rising rates of anxiety and depression, are increasingly turning to it. THC, the main psychoactive component in cannabis, is more potent than ever. The more we normalize this, the harder it gets to recognize when “casual” use turns into dependence. And here’s a fun fact—cannabis-related health issues are skyrocketing, especially in states like California where weed is about as accessible as a bagel. So next time you reach for that joint or gummy, maybe ask yourself—where exactly does this path lead?

Now, here’s the challenge—denial is basically our community’s Olympic sport. We like to think addiction happens over there, not right here among us. But the stats beg to differ. A recent survey revealed that 41.2% of Jewish individuals know someone in their community battling substance abuse, and 23.5% have a family history of addiction. This isn’t just a “someone else” problem; it’s happening in our homes, our shuls, and at our Shabbat tables. And guess what? Ignoring it won’t make it disappear. If anything, it makes things worse. We should be at the forefront of addressing this, not quietly pretending it’s not our issue.

Here’s the good news: our community is tight-knit, and that’s a strength. We already have the foundations for a support system that can address substance abuse. The bad news? We’re not using it effectively. Denial, stigma, and silence are preventing us from tackling the issue head-on. We need to make substance use prevention and recovery a communal priority, not an afterthought.

So what’s the next step? Talk. Out loud. About substance use, about healthy limits, about dependency. Let’s normalize these discussions. Parents, shuls, schools—we all need to get on the same page. When open dialogue becomes the norm, that’s when progress happens.

Second, if you or someone you know is struggling, don’t wait. Help is available. And if you’re thinking, “It’s not that bad,” trust me—it’s easier to course-correct now than wait for full-blown addiction to settle in. There are excellent recovery programs that incorporate Jewish values, so no excuses.

Let’s be honest—substance use isn’t going anywhere. Neither is addiction. But we can either stick our heads back in a siddur or actually do something about it. As a community, we’re strong enough to face this challenge. We’ve got the tools: our commitment to each other, our tradition of moderation, and the ability to create solutions that work for us. But if we keep waiting, we risk letting substance abuse quietly take root where it doesn’t belong—in the very spaces we hold most sacred.

So what’s it going to be? Wait until it’s too late, or step up now? You decide.

Let's be Honest: Schools vs Parents

Let’s be honest—there’s a bit of a standoff brewing between parents and schools in our Orthodox Jewish community, and no one’s openly talking about the elephant in the classroom. On the one hand, parents send their kids to school expecting a top-tier education and Torah values, but then some don’t exactly practice what the school preaches at home. On the other hand, schools accept students and often expect families to fit into their frameworks without really understanding the dynamics of the families they serve. It’s like we’re all operating under unspoken contracts, but no one’s reading the fine print.

First off, there’s a common belief that paying tuition is a golden ticket to making demands of the school. Parents think, “I’m paying thousands of dollars, so I should have a say in everything, right?” Well, not exactly. Just because you’re footing the bill doesn’t mean the school can or should bend to every whim. Yes, parents deserve input, but the relationship should be about partnership, not a transaction. As Dorothy H. Cohen said, “No school can work well for children if parents and teachers do not act in partnership on behalf of the children’s best interests.”

Let’s take a closer look at that partnership. The second paragraph of the Shema tells us, “Take to heart these instructions with which I command you today, Teach them to your children and speak of them when you are at home and when travelling on the road, when you lie down, and when you get up, (Deuteronomy 6:6-7).” If we’re being honest, some parents send their kids to school expecting the teachers to do all the heavy lifting—educationally and religiously. But then, when the kids come home, the values that the school is trying to instill don’t exactly match what’s happening at the Shabbat table. It’s like sending your kid to a nutritionist and then feeding them candy for dinner. Consistency matters. If you’re going to enroll your child in a school that emphasizes Torah learning and moral development, that has to be reinforced at home. Otherwise, the mixed signals confuse the kids, and everyone ends up frustrated.

Now, let’s switch gears and talk about schools. Some schools act like they’ve got a one-size-fits-all approach to education. They take in families with different backgrounds, needs, and challenges, but then expect everyone to fall in line with their policies. But here’s the thing—education isn’t just about academic excellence or religious instruction. Mishlei (Ecclesiastes 22:6) says "Educate each child according to his way.” While schools may do a great job educating the child according to their needs, but what about the parents? Schools may need to meet families where they are. That might mean being a bit more flexible with offering resources to support parents who may not be able to fully align with every expectation. As long as the family is growth oriented, there is room for alignment with the school.

Another wrinkle in all of this is the lack of school choice. In some communities, you don’t have many options. So, when parents enroll their child, they may feel forced to conform to the school’s standards, even if it doesn’t fully align with their home life. Similarly, schools may not feel the need to adjust to families’ needs because, frankly, there isn’t much competition. This dynamic breeds resentment on both sides—parents feeling they’re being judged, and schools feeling like they can’t cater to every individual family.

So, how do we fix this? For starters, we need real, honest communication. Schools and parents need to sit down, not just to discuss report cards or tuition, but to have an ongoing conversation about shared values and expectations. Schools could make a greater effort to understand the realities that families are facing—whether it’s financial pressure, religious observance, or mental health challenges—and parents need to understand that upholding the school’s standards isn’t just about paying the bills, it’s about living the values at home, too.

From a Torah lens, the responsibility of educating our children doesn’t rest solely on the school. Chazal makes it clear that parents are their children’s first teachers. Schools are an extension of the home, not a replacement for it. And while schools provide essential structure and knowledge, parents can’t expect them to perform miracles in isolation.

Collaboration is key, and it starts with humility on both sides. Schools need to be willing to adjust their expectations to the real lives of their students, and parents need to stop thinking that writing a tuition check entitles them to anything and everything. If we can get both sides to move from a mindset of “us vs. them” to one of genuine partnership, then maybe we’ll start seeing the kind of growth in our kids that we all dream of. Because, at the end of the day, true education—like true partnership—isn’t about who’s in charge. It’s about raising children with the intelligence and Midot to thrive in this world. And that takes all of us.

Let's be Honest: Elul

As we enter the month of Elul, there’s an undeniable feeling in the air—a sense of anticipation, urgency, and, let’s be honest, maybe a little panic. The Yamim Norayim are around the corner, and suddenly, everyone’s sprinting to repent like it’s a spiritual Black Friday. But before we get caught up in the checklist of apologizing to every acquaintance, let’s talk about what real repentance and growth actually look like. Spoiler alert: it’s not about saying the right things for one month and hoping Hashem doesn’t notice our year-long habits of procrastination.

Repentance isn’t meant to be a fleeting season; it’s a call to personal growth that should stretch far beyond Elul. It’s like joining a gym on January 1st—if you go all out for two weeks and then disappear, that gym membership isn’t doing much for your fitness, is it? In the same way, Elul is a jump-start, not a one-time detox for the soul. We’re here to change the way we live, not just buy spiritual credit until next year.

As Ernest Hemingway wisely put it, “There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.” Elul is not a competition of who can fast the longest or cry the hardest during Selichot. It’s about being able to look at yourself a year from now and say, “I’m a little better. I handled that situation differently. I didn’t yell at my kids as much.” Because that’s growth! Real nobility is inching forward—even when it’s hard, messy, and slow.

Growth, though, isn’t automatic. Abraham Maslow said, “One can choose to go back toward safety or forward toward growth. Growth must be chosen again and again; fear must be overcome again and again.” Notice how Maslow didn’t say “choose growth once, and you’re good to go!” We are faced with this choice over and over again. Growth is less about some massive overhaul and more about the daily choices. It's when you’re tempted to lash out but take a deep breath instead, or when you feel like avoiding a difficult conversation but dive in anyway. Those are the little victories that add up to a bigger transformation.

Let’s be honest—some of us treat Elul like an annual subscription service to repentance. We sign up, say the right things, and figure we’ve got a solid year of spiritual subscription ahead. But repentance is supposed to be a lifestyle, not a 30-day free trial. If we only crack open the book of self-improvement once a year, we’ll keep getting the same tired results.

So this year, let’s take Elul seriously—but not too seriously. Be honest with yourself. Make small, achievable resolutions. Laugh when you mess up (because you will), and get back to work. The point isn’t to be perfect by Yom Kippur; the goal is to be authentically a bit better by Yom Kippur. And if you can carry that momentum forward, then you’ve unlocked the real code of repentance—sustained growth, all year long.

Being Present Focused

We live in the age of distraction. Social media, instant gratification, read replies. Yet one of life's sharpest paradoxes is that your brightest future hinges on your ability to pay attention to the present.

Take into consideration all your mental thought processes. All the thoughts you have about the past, thoughts you have about the future. Considering all those thoughts, how much time do you spend thinking about the present? Think of time as a triangle. With the past, present, and future all on three points of the triangle. How much of your mental time is spent focused on the past? How much time is spent on the future?

Past Focused Past-focused individuals, in general, are sentimental folks with a keen memory for events from their past. They may have an appreciation for history, genealogy, scrapbooking, etc. If they have an unhealthy focus on the past, they will carry the weight of unresolved conflicts, past traumas or fears around with them. They can be depressed, harbor resentments, guilt, lack energy or goals, and bring up the past in their arguments. These people, if entrenched in the past, can develop debilitating drug addictions and mental disorders.

Future Focused Future focused individuals, these individuals are always doing something, and, in general, multi-tasking. They are natural managers and planners. They tend to take on more responsibility than they can ultimately handle; they can inadvertently say or do things that will cause others to feel inadequate. These types can be easily distracted, are susceptible to excessive worry, anxiety, sleep disturbances and burn out. Typically, the more time someone spends in the past the more susceptible they are to depression, substance use and anger and the more time they spend in the future the more susceptible they are to anxiety, worry, and psychosis.

The goal should be to increase the ability to be present focused and enjoy each moment as it comes along. Being in the present, known as “mindfulness,” is the mental state of being engaged in the now without emotionally reacting to our thoughts. For most of us, though, it is nearly impossible to stay in this state for any real length of time. Because the present is given to us, our mind perceives it as something not worth dwelling in – it’s not worth thinking about the present because it's simply guaranteed.

Being present focused and attentive to the moment not only improves how we interact with others but also mitigates the stresses in our life. Life is about finding the balance. You don’t always need to be getting stuff done, sometimes it is perfectly ok to shut down, sit back, and do you. Be mindful of the past and the future, but never at the expense of the present moment.

Let me end of with a parting analogy… New York is 3 hours ahead of California, but it does not make California slow or behind. Someone graduated at the age of 22, but waited 5 years before securing a good job. Someone became a CEO at 25, and died at 50. While another became a CEO at 50, and lived to 90 years. Someone is still single, while someone else got married. Absolutely everyone in this world works based on their Time Zone. People around you might seem to go ahead of you; some might seem to be behind you. But everyone is running their own RACE, in their own TIME. Don’t envy them or mock them. They are in their TIME ZONE, and you should be present in yours! Life is about waiting for the right moment to act. You’re not LATE. You’re not EARLY. You are very much ON TIME, and in your present TIME ZONE. In conclusion don't rush to get ahead and don’t fret if you feel behind, you are right On Schedule if you stay focused on the present in your time.

The Broken Bucket

A long time ago, there was a small village. In that village lived a serving man. His job was to fetch the water. Every day, he would carry two empty buckets down the long path to the river, fill the buckets, and carry the full buckets back to his master’s house. One of the buckets was perfect and would carry all the water it held all the way back to the master’s house. Naturally, it was very proud of its daily accomplishments. The other bucket was imperfect. It had a crack. And every day, the serving man would fill it to the top with water, and every day, the bucket would slowly leak on the way back up the path and would arrive at the master’s house only half full. This went on for two years. Finally, the bucket with the crack in it couldn’t take it any more. When the serving man reached the river, the bucket said to him, “I want to apologize to you.” The serving man was surprised. “Why would you want to apologize to me?” “Because,” said the bucket. “Every day you have to walk all the way down to the river to fetch the water and walk all the way back, and every day, I am only able to bring half the water you put in me back to the master’s house. I am ashamed.” The serving man felt sorry for the bucket. He said, “I’ll tell you what. As we make our way back up the long path to the master’s house, look around you. There are beautiful wild flowers growing along the path that will cheer you up.” The bucket agreed; and as they walked back up the long path to the master’s house, he did look around and the beautiful wild flowers did cheer him up. But when they reached the master’s house, the bucket still only had half of the water it began with. “I was still only able to do half the work,” said the bucket. “I still failed. I am sorry!” The serving man smiled, and said, “Did you notice that the beautiful wild flowers were only growing on your side of the path? I knew about your crack all along, and I took advantage of it. Two years ago, I dropped flower seeds along the path, and for two years, you have been watering those flowers. It’s thanks to you and your leak that those flowers were able to grow and make the path to the river more beautiful, making everyone’s work more pleasant.” The moral of the story? Do not judge yourself too harshly; do not confuse your strength for a weakness. We all have a divine purpose to fulfill on our way back to the Master’s House – but I think sometimes we get it in our heads what we think our divine purpose should be, and we are unable to see what our divine purpose is. And then we get all self-judgy and miserable, because we think our job is to carry a full load of water and feel like a failure when we just can’t, and we ignore the little flowers that so desperately need us to be exactly what we are.

That’s all.

Carry on.