Vail teachers exposed our national impatience
James Whitehill on legacy and finding joy in the law
How did Seltzer become a Jewish beverage
Redeeming a TV Villain
“Love is Blind” contestant learned Jewish resilience
Grief inspired Anita Kellman to become an end-of-life doula
The
and education network of Southern Arizona 2443 E 4th Street, Tucson, AZ 85719
EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR
Rabbi Yossie Shemtov
REBBETZIN
Chanie Shemtov
OUTREACH DIRECTOR
Rabbi Yehuda Ceitlin
PROGRAM DIRECTOR
Feigie Ceitlin
Affiliates: Congregation Young Israel, Chabad at the University of Arizona, Chabad on River, Chabad of Oro Valley, Chabad of Sierra Vista, Chabad of Vail and Lamplighter Chabad Day School of Tucson
EDITOR
Rabbi Yehuda Ceitlin
COPY EDITOR
Suzanne Cummins
CONTRIBUTING WRITERS
Leo Braudy, Phyllis Braun, Feigie Ceitlin, Menachem Posner, Rosally Saltsman, Mordechai Schmutter, Miriam Szokovski, Benjamin Weiss
PHOTOS
Unsplash.com
SPECIAL THANKS Chabad.org
Phoenix Jewish News
The Forward
EDITORIAL & ADVERTISING
Phone: 520-881-7956 #12 Email: info@ChabadTucson.com
SUBSCRIPTION: ChabadTucson.com/SubscribePrint
Keeping Jewish is published in print periodically by Chabad Tucson and is distributed free in Tucson and Southern Arizona.
Chabad Tucson does not endorse the people, establishments, products or services reported about or advertised in Keeping Jewish unless specifically noted. The acceptance of advertising in Keeping Jewish does not constitute a recommendation, approval, or other representation of the quality of products or services, or the credibility of any claims made by advertisers, including, but not limited to, the kashrus of advertised food products. The use of any products or services advertised in Keeping Jewish is solely at the user’s risk and Chabad Tucson accepts no responsibility or liability in connection therewith.
Note: “G-d” and “L-rd” are written with a hyphen instead of an “o .” This is one way we accord reverence to the sacred divine name. This also reminds us that, even as we seek G-d, He transcends any human effort to describe His reality.
By Rabbi Yehuda Ceitlin
Recently, a group of math teachers at Cienega High School in Vail, a suburb of Tucson, wore matching Halloween T-shirts splattered with fake blood and the words “Problem Solved.”
Parents and community members quickly took to social media. Many were convinced the shirts mocked the recent killing of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, who was shot on the left side of his neck in front of a crowd in Utah. The shirts, with red stains running down the left side, seemed too coincidental to ignore.
By the time the school district could respond, outrage had already gone viral. The teachers were denounced, called names, and accused of political provocation.
Then came the clarification.
The superintendent explained that the shirts had nothing to do with politics or violence. The costumes were purchased online and worn the previous year as well, long before the tragedy. The message was not about Kirk but about solving difficult math problems. The district apologized for the misunderstanding and said the shirts would not be worn again.
Despite this, some did not accept the explanation, and the school continued to receive hateful messages. Others retracted their earlier comments. The damage, as the saying goes, had already been done.
This episode may seem local or even trivial, but it reflects a growing national trend. We live in an age where everyone is quick to react and slow to listen. A single image, quote, or post can spark a firestorm before anyone stops to ask if it is true. Outrage has become a reflex. Nuance feels outdated.
The Stoic philosophers said that humans were given one mouth and two ears so we might listen twice as much as we speak. What they did not take into account was our ten fingers and their ability to fire off a storm from the keyboard. We scroll, type, post, and judge faster than we can think. The constant flood of reaction leaves little room for grace or reflection.
Jewish tradition has long warned of the power of words. The Talmud (Arachin 15b) teaches that lashon hara, or malicious speech, harms three people: the one who speaks, the one who listens, and the one spoken about. It destroys trust and dignity, often beyond repair.
A Chassidic tale tells of a man who spent his life speaking ill of his neighbors. Regretting his actions, he went to the town Rabbi for advice. The Rabbi told him to take a feather pillow, cut it open, and scatter the feathers outside into the wind. When the man returned, the Rabbi said, “Now go gather the feathers back.” The man protested, “That’s impossible—they have blown far and wide!” The Rabbi replied, “Exactly. So it is with words. Once released, they cannot be taken back.”
What began as a small-town parable now reads like a commentary on our social media age. The feathers today are tweets, texts, and comments carried by algorithms instead of wind. They spread faster, reach farther, and linger longer.
Our country is gasping for air. We need a collective pause, a national breather, but it is our individual responsibility to make it happen. Before reacting, before forwarding that post or adding our “take,” we could stop and ask three simple questions: Do I know this to be true? Will this build or destroy? Is it kind?
If the answer is unclear, silence may be the wiser choice. Maimonides wrote (Sefer Hamitzvos 290) that it is far better and more desirable to let a thousand sinners go free than to kill one innocent person. Caution and mercy must guide judgment.
Or, as the Mishnah (Avot 3:13) teaches, “A fence for wisdom is silence.” In that space of restraint, wisdom has a chance to grow.
The teachers in Vail will likely think twice before choosing their next holiday costume. The rest of us can do the same before hitting “send.” In that brief pause lies the chance to rebuild what our culture has lost: patience, empathy, and the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the first breath we need to take is the one before we speak or type.
Rabbi Yehuda Ceitlin is the Outreach Director of Chabad Tucson, the Jewish network of Southern Arizona
Chabad Tucson will host a special Shabbat dinner and lecture titled “Shabbat with an Israeli Scholar: What’s Next for Israel? War, Peace and Everything in Between” on Friday, November 21, featuring Dr. Mordechai Kedar, one of Israel’s most prominent voices on Middle Eastern affairs.
Dr. Kedar served for 25 years in IDF Military Intelligence, where he specialized in Arab political discourse, Islamic movements, and the Syrian domestic arena. He currently teaches in the Department of Arabic at Bar-Ilan University and is a research associate at the Begin-Sadat (BESA) Center for Strategic Studies. He is a frequent guest on the Al Jazeera television network, where he debates his hosts in fluent Arabic.
His visit comes in the aftermath of a year of
devastating conflict in Gaza, which began with the Hamas attacks on October 7, 2023—a day that claimed over a thousand Israeli lives and saw hundreds taken hostage. The ensuing war deeply reshaped Israel’s security landscape, strained its international relationships, and reignited global debates about the future of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Following the official end of the war and the return of the final living hostages, Israelis and Jews worldwide are grappling with what comes next—for Israel’s security, diplomacy, and society.
Dr. Kedar will explore these issues in depth, reminding audiences that the conflict between Israel and the Palestinians is not only national but religious in nature.
“Many Palestinians—and other Arabs—see it as a form of jihad, a holy war to reclaim
Islamic lands,” Kedar explains. Yet, he adds, the Abraham Accords serve as a powerful reminder that not all Arab states share those views.
The evening’s schedule begins with candle lighting at 5:00 PM, followed by a Kabbalat Shabbat service at 5:15 PM, and a fourcourse Shabbat meal at 6:00 PM, during
which Dr. Kedar will speak.
The program will take place at Young Israel–Chabad Tucson, 2443 E. 4th Street. This program is proudly supported by the Weintraub Israel Center.
Registration is required at ChabadTucson. com/ShabbatDinner
new calling as a doula
By Phyllis Braun - Phoenix Jewish News
The role of a doula is traditionally associated with birth. Anita Kellman guides people at the other end of their journeys as a certified end-of-life doula.
Kellman, 66, provides physical, emotional, and spiritual support to patients and their families, whether that means running errands, facilitating conversations, or sitting vigil.
Caring for others and giving them respect and dignity is a natural extension of her Jewish values, said Kellman, a longtime member of Tucson’s Jewish community.
As a medical professional for more than 40 years, including 18 years as a clinical liaison in an oncologist’s office, she helped people face the end of life long before she had an official name for the role.
“I held the hands (both literally and figuratively) of thousands of patients and families who were going through cancer diagnosis and treatment,” Kellman says.
She created Beat Cancer Boot Camp, a fitness-based support group, to help patients, survivors and those who love them stay strong. She ran the group for almost two decades. She has also been a hospice volunteer.
But it was her personal experience with grief that inspired her to train as an endof-life doula.
Despite all her knowledge and experience, when her mother was in hospice, “I still kind of froze,” Kellman said. “I couldn’t think straight. I realized there’s a need for someone to guide people.”
One of her main goals is to make talking about the end of life easier.
Some clients meet with her for advance planning. Beyond funeral arrangements,
there can be much to prepare, from organizing insurance papers to designating a friend or family member to make medical or financial decisions.
Such planning can be “the ultimate form of love, helping your family members, having everything all taken care of so they don’t have to worry about making decisions,” she said.
Sometimes Kellman’s job is to simply sit quietly with a patient so they are not alone. But often, people facing the end of life are eager to share their history. While family members may have heard their stories before, “I’m hearing it for the first time, with open ears,” she said. She can write or videotape a patient’s stories as a legacy for future generations. Another option is to prewrite birthday cards for their loved ones.
Kellman often uses music and aromatherapy to provide comfort, such as smoothing a patient’s hands with lavenderscented lotion.
It’s the little things that make her work special, she said. She remembered a patient who admired the butterflies on the lanyard that held Kellman’s hospice badge. She gave the woman the lanyard to wear as a necklace and later hung it on the wall where she could see it. “It made her so happy,” Kellman said.
Along with helping patients during their active dying time, Kellman offers bereavement support for families.
For her own physical and emotional well-being, Kellman has several self-care practices, including hiking and meditation. And her greatest joy, she said, comes from spending time with her six grandchildren.
Kellman received her doula certification from the CareDoula School of Accompanying the Dying in 2020 and is a past board member of the National End-ofLife Doula Alliance.
Deanna Cochran, founder of the CareDoula School, said she was “blown away” by Kellman’s compassion, enthusiasm and vision. “She’s amazing,” she said.
Kellman’s longtime friend Marlene Harris agreed. “She has a kindness and a caring about her that is perfect for this job,” she said.
Harris and Kellman were pals during their high school days in Skokie, Ilinois, and renewed their friendship after both, coincidentally, ended up in Tucson. Ten years ago, when Harris was treated for stage 4 lung cancer, Kellman was a key member of her support team.
Harris recently told her husband, “If I ever get sick again, I want Anita to be my doula. I don’t want anybody fighting over what’s going to happen to me. It’s all going to be spelled out, and Anita is going to be the one to take care of me.”
For more, visit anitakellman.com
Art by Sefira Lightstone
What is death? This is best answered with another question: What is life?
Life is the integration of soul and body— the self and its physical vehicle—into a single entity. Death is the dissolution of body and soul into two separate entities—a separation of the spiritual self from that which was once a vehicle to that self.
The self is the soul, not the body. The body will inevitably fail and disintegrate; the soul is eternal and indestructible. The stretch of physical time in which the soul resides within and acts through the body is just one phase—though a most important phase—of its existence, an existence which precedes physical life and extends beyond it. The soul of the person we knew and loved as a physical being on this earth continues to exist after his or her death, continues to be aware of that which transpires in our lives, and continues to be the recipient of our love and the positive actions we do on his or her behalf.
But also for the body, death is not the end. A fundamental principle of the Jewish
faith is the belief in techiat ha-meitim, (“resurrection of the dead”)--that in the future, divinely-perfect “World to Come,” the soul will be restored to a rebuilt and revitalized body, so that body and soul, once again fused together as a living being, should enjoy the fruits of what they accomplished together in toils and tribulations of our present-day existence.
So while the soul is the higher, more spiritual incarnation of the self, the body, too, must be accorded the ultimate respect and sanctity, as befits the vessel of the soul.
This understanding of death underlies the Jewish approach to death and mourning. All the laws, customs, beliefs, and mystical motifs related to death—its prequel and sequel, the treatment of the deceased, the approach to mourning, and the ways in which the departed is memorialized—are driven by a series of dichotomies. To wit:
We do everything in our power to sustain life and avoid death; for each and every moment of life is sacred, as it houses the soul’s presence in our world, and constitutes
an integral part of its divinely-ordained mission in life. On the other hand, the moment of death is accepted as the will of the True Judge, who alone knows when the soul’s mission in the physical world has been fulfilled.
We mourn the tragic eclipse of the deceased from the realm of our lives, while continuing to affirm the continuing trajectory of his/her own life.
We show profound respect for the body, the necessary and indispensable vehicle that enables all the souls’ accomplishments during life, while never allowing ourselves to imagine that the body we take leave of is actually the person we mourn.
We seek to create long-lasting memorials to the deceased —yet engage in practices that express the belief that the deceased is truly among us.
From these dichotomies derive the fundamentals of the Jewish way in death and mourning:
1. Determining the occurrence of death. Death is when the soul no longer animates the body, not when the body cannot express the soul.
2. What is done—and not done—with the body. The body must be treated as a holy object —in a way that demonstrates its partnership in the soul’s eternal endeavors. At the same time, it may not be treated as if it were the entirety or even the primary aspect of the person.
3. The depth—and limits—of mourning. One must mourn but not despair due to the loss of this individual from our lives.
4. Memory and connection. We engage in spiritual activity that affirms our continuing relationship with the deceased and the deceased’s continuing path of life.
Not the end. We believe that death is a temporary and reversible state; a stage of life, not its destination.
For more, visit Chabad.org/death
backlash helped a “Love is Blind”contestant understand Jewish resilience
Within hours of the debut of Love is Blind’s seventh season on Netflix in late 2024, “Leo the Art Dealer” became America’s newest reality TV villain.
That’s me.
TikToks mocking me gained millions of views; gossip columnists published pieces calling me arrogant, pretentious, obnoxious, and a “walking red flag”; soon, Walmart was selling “Art Dealer” Halloween sets based on my style, and Netflix added the words “art dealer” to their official IG bio.
By Leo Braudy
But I could deal with the hate until it turned antisemitic.
Most viewers knew I was Jewish from the Star of David chain around my neck. I didn’t anticipate how much negative attention that small piece of jewelry would attract. People weren’t just commenting on my behavior from the show. They were calling me a greedy Jew, indulging in antisemitic tropes, calling me the worst Jew ever, and much worse. My DM’s were filled with obscene and toxic messages that would make anyone nervous.
I felt the gamut of negative emotions —
shock, hurt, anger and panic.
This experience is common among Jews in the public eye today. However, instead of making me cower or want to hide my Jewish identity, this experience actually pushed me to explore my roots more deeply. What started out as a traumatic experience became a catalyst for my return to my Jewish faith and community.
Before learning, grief
I had begun returning to Judaism during the COVID-19 pandemic, well before my reality TV debut. I lost my mother and
two grandparents early in the lockdown, and my father and stepfather received concurrent cancer diagnoses.
My inner world was completely falling apart.
That’s when, while scrolling YouTube one day with a close friend, I stumbled across the channel of Rabbi Shais Taub, a Chabad rabbi with a gift for taking complex Torah ideas and distilling them into easy-tounderstand, bite-sized concepts. My Jewish knowledge at that point was pretty limited — we’re talking bagels and Seinfeld. But something about how Rabbi Shais broke down Jewish ideas and principles just grabbed me.
So I did what Jews have done for centuries when they needed guidance, in the mold of Pirkei Avot, which says, “Make for yourself a teacher.” I reached out to the rabbi to ask some of my pressing questions: “Why does G-d allow tragedy in the world?” “How do I mourn for my deceased family?” and “How can I be a good Jew?”
Through his patient teaching, I slowly began to understand how Judaism could become a meaningful, active part of my life, and not just a cultural identity that I acknowledged once or twice a year.
Shidduch dating on steroids
In the early stages of my spiritual journey, I applied to be on Love is Blind. After a year of interviews, I was cast on the show, and filming began in October 2023. For two weeks, I lived with 29 strangers in a surreal alternate universe, where I was surrounded by cameras and spent eight hours a day dating. It was like shidduch dating on steroids.
In the high-stakes environment of Love is Blind, I connected with a wonderful woman called Brittany. As part of the show’s editing process, however, the ways my Judaism played into our developing connection got cut. In reality, we had long conversations about how important it was to me to raise a Jewish family — even though I was still only beginning to figure out just what Judaism meant to me — and the process of conversion.
one across Chabad Torah Jewish limited But centuries of yourself ask does do I “How I journey, show, a ways long was figure and
I proposed. Then, almost out of nowhere, the show’s producers decided our relationship wasn’t compelling enough to continue filming, and we were cut from the show. Shortly after, we discovered that while we seemed like a match during filming, in real life, we realized we weren’t meant for each other, although today we remain great platonic friends.
The one-two punch of not being on the show and realizing Brittany and I weren’t meant for each other left me feeling completely lost and dejected.
Gaining fortitude — and needing it
I was spiraling, until Rabbi Shais invited me to visit the Ohel — the resting place of the Rebbe of Chabad-Lubavitch, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, in Queens, New York. I’d never been to the gravesite of a holy person before, but I figured I had nothing to lose.
Walking into that place just a few months after wrapping up the filming was like stepping into an altered space of spirituality. All the chaos and noise seemed to fade away, and I felt a profound stillness and inner peace, unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
Jewish tradition teaches that a righteous person, like the Rebbe, can help us spiritually and bring us blessings even after they’ve passed. Standing there at his resting place, something just opened up in my heart. I found myself praying — really praying — for the first time in my life.
To my surprise, shortly after my Ohel visit, Love is Blind producers let me know that Brittany and I were being re-edited into the show. Several months later, when the season was finally released on Netflix, the sense of profound peace I had begun to cultivate that day proved newly necessary. Beyond the reality show gossip and crude and inflammatory comments, I received a crash course in online antisemitism — including insults about my appearance and death threats against me and my family. Some social media users, in response to my appearance, issued calls for Hitler and Hamas to finish the job.
It was everywhere — in my social media
comment sections and DM’s, in my personal email and text messages, as well as my business contact form and voicemail. I disconnected my business phone because the messages wouldn’t stop. Internet trolls flooded my business with one-star ratings on Google, just to hurt my prospects.
However, rather than demoralizing me, the hate and negativity gave me a push to go deeper into my Jewish identity and start observing practices I’d never seriously considered before. I began taking a digital Shabbat, disconnecting from social media every week between sundown on Friday and Saturday night. I also started putting on tefillin daily, and at Rabbi Shais’ suggestion, studying Sha’ar HaBitachon, a classic text about developing trust in God.
For the first time in my life, I felt truly connected to and cared for by something greater than myself.
What’s next
In our chaotic times, when hate speech goes viral and authentic connection feels increasingly rare, our community and traditions can bring a needed sense of grounding.
While online antisemitism is real and impacts everyone differently, I make the conscious choice not to make it the center of my identity. For me, being a Jew is more than combating antisemitism. It’s about feeling a sense of Jewish pride, connection, and empowerment. I’ve become much more involved with my local Chabad, and even attended the Chabad Young Professionals international retreat.
Ultimately, while I didn’t find my life partner in the Love is Blind pods, it was a crucial step on my journey to becoming a proud and active Jew. Through thick and thin, our people have always overcome adversity by doubling down on our Jewish pride and traditions, and always finding a reason to kvell rather than kvetch.
- Leo Braudy appeared on season seven of Netflix’s Love is Blind, and now speaks about art, Jewish identity and digital wellness at communities nationwide. This article was first published in The Forward
1. What got you into this line of work?
I am a third-generation lawyer, and my children are the fourth generation of lawyers in our family. My father came to the University of Arizona in 1948 because he had asthma. He met my mother when he was hashing at her sorority house. He began practicing law in Tucson in the mid1950s after graduating from the U of A. He taught all of his family that law was an honorable profession.
2. What does your best workday look like?
My best workday is filled with pleasant surprises! I never know exactly what will be waiting for me.
3. What’s your favorite part of the job?
I like helping people.
4. Any memorable cases or moments?
Twenty-five years ago, I tried a four-day jury trial over property access in rural Vail. The opposing party, who was a bully, denied my client access to a water well, forcing him to truck water daily. At the suggestion of a friend, I raised a pint-sized water bottle and asked the jury to imagine having to truck in 2,500 such bottles every week. It was a great idea, and I won.
5. What’s been your biggest challenge?
There are some problems that I can’t help people solve. I can’t change the wording
8. What do you do outside of work?
I love following U of A basketball, football, and baseball. I’m an avid Arizona Diamondbacks fan. I’ve collected political campaign buttons since age nine and enjoy political history as a passionate reader. I’ve also served on the boards of several Jewish organizations.
9. What do you love most about Tucson?
on a deed or in a will after the person who signed it has died. I have to work with the facts that are presented.
6. How has the industry changed since you started?
Everything is much faster. People expect an immediate answer. They are used to using Google or AI to get a fast response. But the quick answer is not always the correct answer.
7. What’s something exciting on the horizon for your firm?
My son has been practicing law with me for six years. It is a real joy to work with him on a daily basis. He brings excellent legal skills to the table. Our clients appreciate the energy he brings. His perspective is different from mine. We offer our clients a broader approach to problem-solving when we are working on a case together.
When I returned to Tucson from my undergraduate experience at Knox College in Galesburg, Illinois, I realized how special the mountains are. I also understand that the geography of being in a valley surrounded by mountains means Tucson has developed as a special community.
10. What’s your Jewish name? Yaakov Avraham
11. What’s your go-to comfort food? Chicken noodle soup.
12. What’s a piece of advice you live by? Treat others as you want them to treat you.
•
Whitehill Law Offices, P.C.
2730 E. Broadway Blvd. Suite 160, Tucson, AZ 85716
520-314-8779
By Feigie Ceitlin
As the chilly months settle in and the days grow shorter, there’s nothing quite as comforting as wrapping your hands around a warm, nourishing bowl of soup. With its natural sweetness and rich, golden color, butternut squash perfectly captures the cozy flavors and comforting spirit of the season.
2 butternut squash, cut into chunks (or 32 oz of pre-cut chunks)
2 sweet potatoes
3 medium carrots
2 zucchini
1 green apple
4 shallots
1 head of garlic, cut in half
Olive oil
Salt and pepper
DIRECTIONS:
1. Peel all the vegetables and the apple. Cut everything into similar-sized chunks.
2. Place all ingredients on one or two
baking sheets. Drizzle with olive oil and season with salt and pepper.
3. Roast at 400°F for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until tender.
4. Transfer everything to a large pot. Squeeze the roasted garlic out of its peels and discard the peels.
5. Add water to cover the vegetables by about 2 inches
6. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 45 minutes.
7. Blend until smooth, then continue to simmer until ready to serve.
Bah-rookh ah-tah ah-doh-noi eh-loh-haynoo meh-lekh hah-oh-lahm boh-ray pi-ree hah-ah-dah-mah.
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, who creates the fruit of the earth.
Rebbetzin Feigie Ceitlin is the program director of Chabad Tucson and head of school of Lamplighter Chabad Day School.
By Rosally Saltsman
I was spending some time with a good friend at the mall. We chatted over brunch and were going to head home, but I noticed a dress that I thought would look good on her. She demurred, said she didn’t have the money. The dress was $15.
Then she spotted a store that sold bags and wallets, and asked if I minded if she stopped there for a moment since she had been looking for a new wallet. She found the one she had been looking for and bought it. It cost $100.
I looked at her, and she explained that she had been saving the money for just this treat. She hadn’t changed her wallet in 10 years, and she had planned for
this purchase, whereas for the dress, she hadn’t.
But by the way she told me that she had no money for the dress, I would have thought she was penniless.
We’re always complaining about our limited resources—time, money and energy—because they are, well, limited. We often say, “I don’t have enough time/ money/energy” for that. Whatever that is. But that’s a misleading thought, both to ourselves and others, and it puts us in a mindset of lack and limitation when what we’re really doing is making choices, prioritizing and setting limits.
Do I hear you scoff? Think about it. Think about the number of times you refused to spend money on something because you didn’t have it and then splurged on something else. Same with time, energy and even love. When it’s important to us, we can usually find it or make it.
This is important to know because then we can ransom back what is truly important to us. We just have to consciously allocate our resources differently. Whether you want to spend more time with your family, take a trip to Hawaii, give more charitable contributions, or start keeping the Torah’s commandments, the thing that has probably been stopping you is the belief that you are maxed out and can’t
do it. While I don’t deny that we are all sapped and tapped, this is to a large extent because of our choices, preferences and priorities.
A mother who doesn’t have the strength/ time to read her child a bedtime story but does have the time to go clothes shopping is making a statement about her priorities. Someone who can’t send their child to Jewish school because of the expense, but buys a new high-end car, is doing the same. Don’t have time for date night with your spouse? Was the ball game good? Who scored? Not you.
We make an astounding number of choices every single day. Most of them (obviously)
are choices we make instinctively or by second nature. But how different might your life look if you consciously changed some of your choices?
Here are a few tips to help you be aware of them and choose more in keeping with your true self.
1. List your choices.
We tend to live a lot on autopilot. Once a day, stop and list 10 choices you made. Were they good choices? Were you even aware of making them? Will you continue to choose this way, or would you consider another direction? We are not prisoners of our previous choices. Every choice is free. The Chassidic masters taught that the world is recreated at every moment, and every person should believe that they too are reborn/recreated.
2. It isn’t always binary.
There are usually more options. But to make our decisions easier, we usually only give ourselves two options. A better option is to create a life where, from the get-go, we give ourselves more options. For example, how do you get to work? Do you drive, take the bus, walk, bike, or carpool? Each of these possibilities offers you different scenic and practical options along the way. Where do you work? You can get a 9-to-5 job in an office, or you can get a job with a flex schedule or the ability to work parttime from home. Creatively brainstorming all your options in a situation will create more possibilities and, therefore, more solutions as well. And there are options we don’t even consider because they are far out of our comfort zone.
3. Make a list of your priorities in life.
Are you designating your resources in a way that is consistent with your priorities? If you aren’t (and most people aren’t), ask yourself how you can do it. Usually, it involves having ironclad rules that we don’t break in order to focus on our priorities. Make a commitment to what’s important to you, and don’t be afraid of the consequences.
4. Switch yes and no.
We often say yes to things we don’t really need or want to do, and no to things that are more in sync with who we are, simply because we don’t want to hurt others or look bad. But we’re hurting ourselves most of all when we do that, and how much respect do we garner when we compromise our dearest-held values? Try for a week to (cautiously) switch yes and no a few times a day. See how liberating it is. See how much more time and energy you have to do what you really want and what’s most important to you.
5. Be perfectly honest with yourself.
We inevitably think that we have more or less time than we do, more or less money than we do, and more or less energy than we do. Be 100% clear on what you can realistically expect of yourself. This often entails drawing up schedules and budgets, and planning ahead. Knowledge is power. My friend wasn’t wrong; she didn’t have money for the dress because she had earmarked it for her wallet, and she chose to be in tune with her needs.
6. You can start again.
The concept of teshuvah—repenting and transforming ourselves—occupies almost two months on the Jewish calendar. But it’s an everyday choice. You can stop and change direction at any time by taking stock of your options, your goals and what you need to achieve them. Make a commitment to do just that, and don’t be
Photo: Jasmin Ne/Upsplash
afraid of discovering the “real you.”
You have the time. You have the money. You have the energy. Because you have the choice.
- Rosally Saltsman is the author of “100 Life Lessons I’ve Learned So You Don’t Have To” (Targum Publishers, 2022) and offers Creative Consulting sessions via Zoom, providing innovative solutions for personal and professional opportunities challenges.
While it may sound Yiddish, and you’d be hard pressed to find a Jewish event without bottles and bottles of the stuff, the word seltzer actually gets its name from the German town of Niederseltsers, famous for its natural mineral springs.
Originally, seltzer was medicinal—used across Europe as a tonic for stomach aches and other ailments. Soon, pharmacies began to experiment with flavors and syrups, and the seltzer fountain turned into a social event. Perhaps that explains why Ashkenazi Jews—who are known for their stomach issues and penchant for kvetching—gravitated to the pharmacy for seltzer treatment.
But how did it become the go-to drink at every Kiddush, bris, wedding and Shabbat meal?
When European Jews migrated to the US in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, settling en masse on the Lower East Side, some became “seltzermen.” Each seltzerman had his own route and personalized glass bottles, typically his name and a Jewish symbol like a menorah or Star of David.
Dozens of factories filtered and carbonated the city’s water (some suggest this was the only way to ensure clean water, which contributed to its popularity). The
By Miriam Szokovski
Today, seltzer comes in generic plastic bottles (or cans), but it has maintained its status in Jewish homes and shuls across the country. It is inherently kosher without requiring certification (provided that the flavoring is not problematic), making it one of the easiest drinks to purchase wherever you may be.
There are devices that allow you to press a button and release a burst of CO2 from a removable gas cylinder into a bottle of water, dissolving under pressure to create your own seltzer.
Provided that there is no electrical component, many say that these may be used on Shabbat! (See Piskei Teshuvot 320:15 for an overview of both sides of this argument, including those in the middle who maintain that it is best to prepare your seltzer before Shabbat even if it is not technically forbidden to make it on Shabbat.)
A splash of grape juice has kids at Shabbat tables all over the world thinking they are drinking soda.
Indeed, in Yiddish, seltzer is called “soda vasser,” soda water, and is in fact as popular as both soda and water!
When Jacob S. Mansfeld arrived in Tucson, the town was still little more than a dusty outpost on the edge of the frontier. Yet from the moment he opened the doors of his small shop, it became clear that Mansfeld was a different kind of pioneer— one driven not only by commerce, but by a deep commitment to shared knowledge, community, and progress.
Born in 1833 in Pasewalk, a town in northern Germany’s province of Prussia, Mansfeld served in the Prussian Army before setting out for the United States in 1856. Like many newcomers, he chased opportunities across the West, briefly landing in Idaho, California, and Nevada during the mining boom.
In 1857, he spotted a need in the growing town of Tucson and filled it by opening the Pioneer News Depot, the city’s first newsstand. From this modest store, Mansfeld sold newspapers, books, and stationery—small items that brought the wider world to the remote desert settlement. Before long, his shop became a gathering place for Tucson’s educated elite, a hub for conversation and ideas. It was here that local leaders—including Mansfeld himself, Charles Moses Strauss, and Selim Franklin—met to plan the legislation that would establish the University of Arizona.
As his business flourished, Mansfeld expanded his inventory to include newspapers and books in English, Spanish, and German. In the early 1870s, he took a step further by establishing a small circulating library, enabling townspeople to borrow books—an uncommon gesture of generosity and vision on the frontier.
Mansfeld’s commitment to civic life extended well beyond his store. He wrote Tucson’s first city charter and served on both the City Council and the Board of Regents for the Territorial University. The founding of the university was especially close to his heart. When the new institution needed land, Mansfeld convinced two successful gamblers and a local saloon
owner to donate about four acres for the campus—an act of persuasion that changed Tucson’s future. And fittingly, for the man who introduced the city to the printed word, he also served on the first board of trustees for Tucson’s public library.
Jacob’s wife, Eva Mansfeld, shared his pioneering spirit. The sister of another Tucson trailblazer, Leo Goldschmidt, she played a vital role in the city’s early development through her work as vice president of the Hebrew Ladies’ Benevolent Society, which raised funds and provided aid to those in need.
Jacob Mansfeld ran his beloved news depot until his death in 1894. Eva lived on for several more years, continuing the legacy of service and community they had built together. Today, just south of the University of Arizona campus that he helped to create, Mansfeld Middle Magnet School stands as a lasting tribute to this remarkable Jewish family whose vision helped shape Tucson’s intellectual and civic life.
–Presented in collaboration with the Tucson Jewish Museum to honor the city of Tucson’s 250th anniversary. For the full biography, visit tjmhc.org/profiles
A new study in Britain suggests that driving may make people less intelligent. And I say, “Thank G-d.” I thought it was just me.
But that does explain a lot. For example, it explains why pedestrians have the right of way.
Sure, there are plenty of dumb things we do even without our cars. Do you ever go into a room and then forget why you came in? Based on the results of this study, if you drive long enough, you’re going to get to your destination and forget why you drove there. I do this all the time when we go to my in-laws.
But if a pedestrian does something ridiculous, we don’t judge him as much. If someone does one dumb thing in a car, you’ll say, “He’s a bad driver.” No one says, “He’s a bad walker.” He happens to be walking badly at the moment, but this is probably not how he walks all the time.
No one really thinks of themselves as an above-average walker.
Also, an ever-growing number of people look at little screens while driving. Especially since we make some screens specifically for that purpose. Now granted, it’s safer to drive while looking at Google Maps than to drive while folding a map. But, for example, I have one relative who cannot drive without both Google Maps and Waze running in the car – one with a male voice and one with a female voice, so she can tell them apart. And they’re arguing the entire time. It’s like she’s driving around with an old married couple trying to give her directions.
I’m definitely not always on the ball when I’m on the road. For example, the other day I saw a car with a sticker that said, “This car stops at all railroad crossings.” And somehow, I accidentally read it as, “This car doesn’t stop at all railroad crossings.” And I said, “Whoa, that’s adamant. Good luck with that.” Also, I said it to myself. No
And I said, “Whoa, that’s adamant. Good luck with that.” Also, I said it to myself. No one else was in the car with me. I think I was talking to the car.
Another example: My wife and I have a minivan and a small car. The van gets the driveway spot for easy unloading, while the small car is meant for tight parking. But if I come home in the small car and the driveway’s empty, I’ll absentmindedly pull in—forgetting which car I’m in until I step out, notice how low it is, and think, “Wait, this isn’t the van.” Then I move it so my wife doesn’t come along and think she’s in the small car.
And all this is why, when you’re in a car, your main priority is to get to where you’re going and get out of the car. It’s some primal urge of self-preservation. It’s also why the person who isn’t driving is supposed to be the navigator. Sometimes drivers get lost, but their passengers always know which way they were supposed to go. “You should have made that turn back there. If I was driving…”
No, if you were driving, YOU would have missed that turn, and I’D be correcting you.
Yet the researchers wanted to conduct a study to make it official. (They decided that in the car on the way to work.) According to the article I read, “They analyzed more than 500,000 middle-aged adults between 37 and 73 over the course of five years.”
This is fairly alarming because it means I’m middle-aged.
one else was in the car with me. I think I was talking to the car.
Another example: My wife and I have a minivan and a small car. The van gets the driveway spot for easy unloading, while the small car is meant for tight parking. But if I come home in the small car and the driveway’s empty, I’ll absentmindedly pull in—forgetting which car I’m in until I step
out, notice how low it is, and think, “Wait, this isn’t the van.” Then I move it so my wife doesn’t come along and think she’s in the small car.
And all this is why, when you’re in a car, your main priority is to get to where you’re going and get out of the car. It’s some primal urge of self-preservation. It’s also why the person who isn’t driving is
Either way, what they found is that a person’s intelligence decreases over time if they drive for more than two hours a day, which is basically your life if you have a commute or drive a lot for carpool.
They think it’s either because we’re spending too much of the day not occupying our minds, or because sitting still for that long is not great for anybody.
1. The Torah is written in Hebrew.
True False
2. The Torah comprises six books.
True False
3. The Torah is the most sacred book in Judaism.
True False
4. A printed Torah is often called a “Chumash.”
True False
5. The Torah is read in synagogue every Tuesday and Friday.
True False
6. The Torah must be written in black or red ink to be kosher.
True False
By Mordechai Schmutter
7. An authentic Torah is written on papyrus.
True False
8. A Torah is written in Ktav Ivri (“Hebrew Script”) as opposed to Ktav Ashuri (“Assyrian Script”).
True False
9. Many people study Torah every day, completing the cycle every year.
True False
10. King David authored the Torah.
True False
Leave an eternal legacy to the Jewish community. Remember Chabad in your will.
Create a lasting legacy and ensure the growth of Judaism in our local community for generations to come.
Leaving a portion of your estate to Chabad is the simplest way to reduce estate taxes and the easiest way to leave a Jewish legacy.
For more information on planned giving, Call 520-881-7956 #12 or email info@ChabadTucson.com