Rav Dror

Today we shared the Hebrew word Tzedakah, צדקה, and there is a story from our sages that I really love because it says so much about what this word actually means.

The Gemara tells us about Mar Ukva, who had a poor man living in his neighborhood. Every day, Mar Ukva would secretly leave money for him by his door. One day, the man decided that he wanted to find out who had been helping him.

When Mar Ukva realized that the man was coming after him, he ran away. Think about that for a moment. He was doing something beautiful. Why hide from it? Because he didn't want the person receiving his help to be embarrassed.

I think there is something very important in this. Sometimes we think that Tzedakah is mainly about how much we gave. But there is another person standing on the other side of our giving, and that person has dignity.

Maybe they don't want everyone to know that they need help. Maybe accepting is already difficult enough for them. Maybe what they need from us is not only money, but to still feel respected afterward.

For me, this is one of the beautiful things about Tzedakah. HaShem gives us an opportunity to help another person, but also asks us to think about how we help them.

Can I give without making someone feel small? Can I help without expecting anything back? Can I help someone in a way that I would want to be helped if I were in their place?

Sometimes the most beautiful part of giving is the part nobody sees.

Rav Dror

There are dates that we remember because they are written in our history, and there are dates that we remember because we can still remember exactly where we were when everything changed.

October 7 is one of those days.

Today I am thinking first about the people. The people who woke up that morning at home with their families, the young people who were celebrating together, the soldiers and first responders who ran toward danger, and all those whose ordinary lives suddenly became part of a tragedy none of us could have imagined.

I am thinking about the families who lost the people they loved, about those who survived and still carry that day with them, and about everything our people have carried since.

So much has happened since October 7. Every person had a family, a voice, plans, people who loved them, and a whole life that cannot be reduced to a number.

May HaShem comfort every family that is still living with this pain. May He heal those who are carrying wounds we can see and those we cannot see. May He protect our people and our soldiers, and may we finally know days of peace, safety and healing in the Land of Israel.

May the memory of those we lost be a blessing.

Rav Dror

Three years later, October 7 remains a day that carries immeasurable sorrow.

Today, we remember the lives that were taken, the families whose worlds were changed forever, the survivors who continue to carry the wounds of that day, and all those who have endured so much in the years since.

Behind every name was a person — someone’s child, parent, sibling, spouse, friend. A life filled with memories, hopes, laughter, plans, and people who loved them.
May HaShem comfort those who mourn, bring healing to those who are still carrying pain, protect Am Yisrael, and grant strength and peace to all who need it.

May we honor those we lost not only by remembering how they died, but by remembering that they lived.

Today we shared the Hebrew word Ahava, אהבה, love, and I wanted to say something more about it, because love is something we speak about all the time, but I'm not sure we always understand how much it asks from us.

For me, love is not only the feeling you have when everything is good between you and another person. Actually, I think you discover much more about your love when things are not so easy.

When you love someone, you start making room for them. You try to understand what they are carrying. You learn to listen even when you disagree. Sometimes you forgive. Sometimes you need patience. Sometimes loving someone means choosing not to give up on them so quickly.

I think the same thing happens in our relationship with HaShem.

There are days when you feel very close to Him, when you pray and your heart is open and everything comes naturally. And there are other days when you have to work a little harder for that connection. That's normal. A relationship isn't measured only by the moments when everything feels easy.

To keep turning to HaShem, to keep speaking to Him, to keep making a place for Him in your life, this is also Ahava.

And maybe that's something worth remembering about love in general. It doesn't have to be perfect to be real.

Rav Dror

Now that the holidays are behind us, I want to hear from you. What is one thing you're happy you did this year?

It doesn't have to be something big. Maybe you fasted for the first time, went to synagogue, sat in a sukkah, said a prayer you don't usually say, or simply made a little more room for HaShem in your days.

We are all in different places. What feels normal for one person might be a very big step for someone else.
So don't compare your answer to anybody else's.

What was one small victory for you this holiday season? I'd really love to read your answers.