From the Rabbi

Last week, I, along with some other young professionals from Denver and Dallas,  was at the T’kuma memorial site in Southern Israel, about 10 minutes away from the Nova site. T’kuma is where they brought the cars from the party goers, and it is a jarring site indeed. Seeing the burnt and bullet-ridden cars is truly shocking. And perhaps even more jarring are the rows and rows of empty cars in the distance. It feels like being at a Broncos game– but sadly, no one is coming back to these cars. They each belonged to young, precious Jews whose lives were prematurely snatched from them. Their crime?  Being Jewish,  simply wanted to celebrate life at a music festival.

While there, we saw the bullet-ridden car driven by Ben Shimoni, with its smashed windshield. And we heard his story. Ben was at the Nova site and managed to escape with 4 strangers to Beer Sheva, 30 minutes away. Despite his new friends' pleas that he stay there, far enough away from the warzone, he went back to the Nova site, where he saved five more people taking the same route. Not satisfied with that, he went back yet a third time, when he attempted to save four more people. On that fateful trip, he was murdered along with three other passengers. Romi Gonen was taken hostage and eventually released. All in all, he saved at least ten lives that day. 

After hearing his story, we saw his father, who shared with us some of the story, and his son’s desire to care for others. We learned about his sense of selflessness and how he put the needs of others before his own. We learned that the meaning of being a Jew is to look out for others. 

Right now, we have just entered the secular New Year. While we tend to set goals for ourselves around Rosh HaShana time, the secular new year also serves as an opportunity to assess how our last year has gone, and what we hope for ourselves in the upcoming secular year. And while it is very difficult, if not impossible, to reach the lofty level of Ben Shimony, perhaps we can try to incorporate some of his legacy into our own lives. Perhaps in 2026, we can specifically work on being more sensitive to others. More caring. More helpful. Perhaps we can work on putting their needs before our own. 

Our people are going through a difficult time. Many of us feel more vulnerable than we ever have. And if we are feeling it– those of us who are wrapped in the embrace of our loving Jewish community– then certainly tens of thousands of our unaffiliated precious Jewish brothers and sisters with no communities to call their own feel it as well.  Maybe we can ask ourselves who among them could use a phone call? Who could use a Shabbos meal invitation, or an invitation to join us on a Shabbos morning for some inspiration and good kiddush? 

Perhaps in 2026, we can seek to be even more proactive in looking out for our fellow Jewish brothers and sisters. And in that merit, we should be blessed with a peaceful, joyful, and fulfilling 2026.