In It Together  

Sometimes it takes a war to remind us we’re all one undivided nation, our mutual fate, past, and future intertwined, even if we’ve been feeling separate for so long.

And sometimes all it takes is a song.

Can you remember a time, or a scene, when music broke down barriers and brought people into that precious circle of unity?

Kickbacks

“We’re a people who never abandon G-d and only get stronger from hard times”

The first thing that pops into my mind is, “Thank You Hashem!” which came out during Covid. People have told me that TYH was like the Covid theme song. You’d think that maybe a Tishah B’Av song would have been a more appropriate theme, but NO, Klal Yisrael always thanks Hashem. Klal Yisrael has resilience. Klal Yisrael found the good in the situation. Today, we’re seeing that resilience again. We’re a people who never abandon G-d and only get stronger from hard times. The Zohar says that when you want to get the flames going in a bonfire, you kick the wood. That’s a mashal to Klal Yisrael. You kick us, we come back stronger. And soon we’ll all be in Eretz Yisrael, serving Hashem in the highest, most significant way — with no more kicks.

—JOEY NEWCOMB

singer, composer, yeshivah rebbi

It’s Never Too Late

“I felt he should be the one apologizing, while he seemed too ashamed to reach out”

I’m fortunate to spend my summers in camp. Midway through one summer, we were gearing up for an inter-camp basketball game that was expected to be fiercely competitive, so I assigned one of my assistants to prepare our team rigorously for the match. He did an outstanding job — almost too outstanding. By the end of the first quarter, the team was ahead by over 25 points. It was clear that the opposing team had little chance of catching up or avoiding a substantial defeat.

As we moved to a 50-point lead in the second quarter, I approached this assistant and, as his supervisor, instructed him to substitute the five-star players with the benchwarmers. My aim was to maintain our lead but not let the other team, also made up of fellow Yidden and fine yeshivah boys, suffer such a massive loss. But in the heat of the game, and after his countless hours of dedication to the team, my assistant snapped back at me:

“You asked me to run the team, I’m running the team. Stay out of it, Shmeely,” he said. His defiance of my direct order, in front of many campers and members of the seventh-grade team, was a moment that left me hurt and somewhat embarrassed. Despite each point feeling like a pang in my heart, I stepped back, almost starting to root for the other team, hoping they’d narrow the gap.