How One Woman’s Divorce Transformed the Jewish Divorce Conversation
Table of contents
- Divorce can turn your world upside down, but it can also ignite a fire within you to redefine your purpose and help others through their struggles.
- Divorce can feel like a stigma, but it’s time to shift the narrative and embrace the strength in vulnerability. Your struggle can become a source of support for others.
- Innocent kids deserve a community that embraces them, especially during tough times. Their experiences shape their empathy and strength, turning challenges into opportunities to connect and support others.
- Embrace the second chance in love; your past shapes your future, making it richer and more meaningful.
- In times of crisis, small acts of kindness can create powerful connections and uplift those in need.
- Marriage thrives on mutual respect and openness; it's not about changing who you are, but finding common ground to build a family together.
- In a community filled with resources, sometimes the most vital support is the one we create ourselves.
- Single parents are superheroes, and with the right support, their kids can turn struggles into extraordinary strength.
- Kids from broken homes often rise above their struggles, transforming pain into purpose and extraordinary futures.
- Transformation comes full circle when those who once received help become the ones who give it back.
- Creating spaces for connection and understanding can change the world.
- Creating a welcoming Shabbat table can change perceptions and inspire connections across communities.
- Cherish the moments that make us feel like family, because when they're gone, the loss can feel like losing a part of ourselves.
- A small shul that became a home for many is now just ashes, but its spirit lives on in the hearts of those it served.
- Even in the ashes of loss, hope can rise from the smallest things, reminding us that rebuilding is not just about structures, but about the spirit we carry forward.
- Hope can survive even the toughest storms; it's a light that guides us through the darkest times.
- In your darkest moments, surrender the burden and let hope guide you to brighter days.
Divorce can turn your world upside down, but it can also ignite a fire within you to redefine your purpose and help others through their struggles.
Every girl, from the time they're three years old, dreams of wearing that white gown and getting married, living happily ever after. Getting divorced was never something I ever thought about; I don't even think I was exposed to it much. I really had no concept of it. But when it happened, yes, it turned my world upside down. It was painful and difficult, with a lot of struggles being a divorced woman and a single mom, especially in the firm world where so much of our yish kite surrounds family lifestyle.
This situation turns everything upside down. For example, do you go to the same shul as your ex? These are things that people don't even think about. It literally turns your entire world upside down. Who makes kiddush this night? Who takes your son to shul? Your entire life revolves around family infrastructure, so being divorced means you need to reframe that and rethink how you're going to stay within your religious circles while still remaining from and reinventing what your family will look like. Yes, it turned my life upside down, but in hindsight, you know what they say: what doesn't break you makes you stronger. I never want to say that for anyone else, but for me, it was exactly that.
Did you find that you became a different person after it? It's a good question. It definitely changed my perspective on life. I was always a tough girl, a fighter; I was never that quiet, lamala type. So, I had that fight within me. I wouldn't say it changed me, but it changed my perspective and my view on the world, on yish kite, and on what I wanted for my future. It changed what my goals were.
Could you explain what shifted and what your goals became? When I got married, I was like everyone else; my goal was to raise my family and to lead a regular, from lifestyle. Then divorce hit, and you think about your real purpose. After you get over the hump and get to the other side, you start to wonder, "Okay, now what? Am I just here to go through this struggle and do my own thing, or am I here for a bigger purpose?" That's actually what kicked in—a burning desire to make a change and to use my struggle to help others around me, especially those in similar situations.
Divorce can feel like a stigma, but it’s time to shift the narrative and embrace the strength in vulnerability. Your struggle can become a source of support for others.
My perspective on the world shifted significantly after my marriage and subsequent divorce. Initially, like many others, my goal was to raise my family and lead a regular, fun lifestyle. However, once divorce hit, I found myself questioning my real purpose. After overcoming the initial struggles, I began to ponder, "Okay, now what?" I wondered if I was merely going through this struggle for my own sake or if I was meant for a bigger purpose. This contemplation ignited a burning desire to make a change. I wanted to use my struggle to help others, particularly those experiencing similar challenges.
During our previous conversations, we touched upon the fact that divorce is not a solo struggle; it affects many people. For this reason, I want to be respectful and not delve too deeply into the specifics of my situation, especially considering my children. However, I do want to address the stigma associated with being a divorced woman. When I got divorced many years ago, there was a significant lack of support for single mothers. There was only one organization, Sister Sister, which still exists today, but it was much smaller back then. Being labeled as "that divorced girl" came with a stigma; people often hesitated to invite me to gatherings, and some looked at me as if I had done something wrong. This judgment extended to my children as well, as they were often viewed through the same lens of blame.
Fortunately, I had incredible neighbors and friends who supported me during this challenging time. Without them, I don't know how I would have survived. In general, however, the stigma surrounding divorce was palpable. Today, I see that the community has made significant strides in addressing this issue. While the stigma still exists, it has improved, perhaps due to the rising divorce rates that have made it more common. Nowadays, it's hard to find someone who doesn't have a family member or friend who has gone through a divorce.
It's fascinating how the perception of divorce has evolved. It was once viewed as a "contagious disease," with people fearing association for fear of "catching" it. This was the last thing anyone going through such a difficult period needed. Thankfully, much has changed. I credit this progress to many rabbis, therapists, and community leaders who have spoken out and started supporting single parents, including both single moms and dads. The community has grown to provide a support system for those experiencing divorce, allowing them to feel accepted and embraced.
It's crucial to remember that the children involved are innocent in these situations. While some may engage in the blame game, it's important to consider the impact on the kids. They did not choose this path, and integrating them into the community—whether it's through school, playdates, or other activities—is essential. As my children grow older, they are becoming more aware of the situation. I want to share their experiences, but I will do so cautiously and respectfully, as they are now older and deserve their privacy.
Innocent kids deserve a community that embraces them, especially during tough times. Their experiences shape their empathy and strength, turning challenges into opportunities to connect and support others.
The discussion highlights the innocence of children amidst the complexities of family dynamics. It acknowledges that while some may engage in the blame game regarding marital issues, the focus should remain on the children, who are truly innocent in these situations. The importance of including these kids in community activities, schools, and playdates is emphasized as a vital aspect of their well-being.
As children grow older, they inevitably become more aware of their surroundings and the circumstances affecting their families. The speaker reflects on their own experience, sharing that their children were quite young during their remarriage—the youngest was five and the oldest was eight or nine. Out of respect for their children, the speaker chooses to share only bits of their experience. They mention that their community was kind and inclusive, which played a significant role in their children's lives.
The speaker describes how the family infrastructure changed after the divorce. For instance, Shabbos nights became a special time when they would gather around the table, make kiddush, and sing zmiros. They made a concerted effort to spend quality time with their children, despite the challenges of eating out on Shabbos days. The speaker notes that their children's experiences in school were different, particularly during events like Mother's Day and Father's Day, where projects were often made for both parents. In their children's school, there were no such celebrations, as the focus was on the Hebrew calendar.
The speaker reflects on how their children had to navigate situations where they felt different from their peers. For example, during Yom Kippur, while many families would bless their children, their children did not have that experience, which highlighted the differences in their family structure. However, this situation also provided their children with an opportunity to connect with others facing similar challenges.
An instance is recalled where the speaker's daughter was approached by the principal of her school, who informed them that another girl in her class was going through a divorce. The speaker was surprised to learn that their daughter was one of the few in her class experiencing this. After discussing the situation with her, the daughter expressed a willingness to talk to the other girl, showcasing her empathy and strength.
This experience allowed the children to share their journey and help others, fostering a sense of community and support. The speaker proudly notes that their daughter is now in seminary and has volunteered with an organization, while their second daughter is also involved in volunteer work. This cycle of giving and support is a beautiful outcome of their experiences, demonstrating the resilience and growth of their children amidst challenging circumstances.
Embrace the second chance in love; your past shapes your future, making it richer and more meaningful.
I remember sitting down with my daughter and explaining the situation. I mentioned that there was another girl going through a similar experience and asked if she would like to talk to her and share her journey. She immediately responded, "Yes, sure, Ma." I thought, wow, here's an opportunity for her to share her experience and strength, and to help another kid. My children gained the chance to share with and give to others, and they carry that through their lives. My daughter is now in seminary, but she was a volunteer in the organization, and my second daughter is also a volunteer. It's really beautiful to watch that cycle.
Before we delve into the M family, there’s a lot to discuss. However, I want to share how much time passed between my divorce and my remarriage. I was divorced for six years. Interestingly, my husband and I were both married and divorced in the same years, and he is younger than me.
Dating during that time was not simple, especially with the added complexities of divorce and children. The uncertainty of not knowing where things would lead and trying to find someone who would care for my kids made it challenging. Dating the second time around comes with a lot of packages—different factors that can hinder or complicate the experience. Yet, it can also be quite beautiful.
When you date for the first time, you’re often young and naive. You stand under the chuppah thinking about having good kids, but you really have no clue what that entails. The second time you stand under the chuppah, it carries a whole different meaning. I often joke that you should divorce your spouse and remarry them a day later, but what I mean is that you get a second chance to manifest what you truly want in your life.
Dating is hard for many reasons. Most people who have gone through a divorce have some trust issues, and they bring their trauma into the new relationship. Additionally, there are children involved—his kids, her kids—which complicates things further. However, having gone through these experiences gives you a different perspective, allowing you to look for certain qualities in a partner that you may not have considered before.
I wish there were more opportunities for people dating for the second time. There really aren’t many resources available. I receive calls frequently from individuals wishing they had someone to talk to about their experiences. There are so many good women and men out there, yet there is a lack of facilitation in connecting them. So, to anyone out there looking to take on a new role in the community, I believe this is a much-needed service.
Now, let's take a moment to talk about something else. We all know the Jewish world is obsessed with charcoal turtlenecks because they’re great. But now we all know why Twillery is by far the first choice when it comes to shirts. Their shirts feature a fantastic stretch component and a special fabric in the collars and sleeves that resists sweat stains. We’ve all seen those shirts with the nasty yellow lines! Plus, they offer an incredible array of cool polo shirts and other styles. Yes, I’m wearing one right now!
In times of crisis, small acts of kindness can create powerful connections and uplift those in need.
Facilitating opportunities for individuals to take on new roles in the community is much needed and really cool. We'll be right back to my conversation with Stery, but first, you all know the Jewish world is obsessed with Charles Turet shirts because they're great. Now we all know why Twillery is by far the first choice when it comes to shirts for me, you, and all the YIFA guys out there. Their shirts have this fantastic stretch component and a special fabric by the collars and sleeves, which is great because it doesn't get ruined with your sweat. We've all seen those shirts that have that nasty yellow line, and if you're like me, you appreciate their incredible array of cool polo shirts and ear shirts. Yes, I'm wearing one right now, and I love it! They come in white, blue, black, green—all the colors of the rainbow. If it's your first time buying, you can use the code word INSPIRE to get $18 off your purchase of $113 or more. It's time to look and feel fresh, so go to t.com and tell Charlie Turet you're sorry. You don't have to actually tell him you're sorry, but that's okay!
Now, the Jewish world changed on October 7th. We've witnessed unimaginable destruction and hate, but as Mr. Rogers' mother wisely said, "Look for the helpers." Sord to Shackle is one of the most beautiful organizations I've seen emerge from this tragedy. If you've wanted to support soldiers, help struggling businesses impacted by the war, or strengthen Israel's economy, here's how: Sord to Shackle purchases goods and services from local businesses and gifts them to brave IDF soldiers defending our homeland. Every dollar you donate does double duty—supporting a restaurant, art shop, or real company, and giving an IDF soldier a well-deserved meal, painting, simmer, or grill for absolutely free. It's a true win-win.
Here's a better look into what they do: Recently, I was in the shook, giving out envelopes with coupons in them. I walked up to a couple and noticed the husband had a gun, so I assumed he was in the military or at least a soldier of some sort. I handed them an envelope and said, "Here, these are for you. These are a couple of coupons to some restaurants in the area. Shabbat shalom! Have an amazing day, and thank you for everything that you do." I walked away, and maybe five seconds later, I felt a tap on my shoulder. The wife came up to me, crying, and said, "Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me that just this random stranger walking through the streets of Jerusalem chose to come up to us. We've been going through this emotional roller coaster for the past six months, and just to hand me this gift—it felt really amazing." She gave me a big hug, and we wished each other joy and peace. It felt really good.
Now is the time to help Hashem's children. Open your hearts and make a difference today. The people of Israel need our help, especially in the last few weeks. Let's band together and support them. Visit sort2.org (that's s-w-d, the number two, s-h-k.org) to contribute and show your support.
Now, back to this week's episode. When you were dating, what were you looking for? This is obviously a personal question, but were you looking for someone who was never married, divorced, or a widow? I was looking for someone that definitely had been married before. I would have never married someone who had not been married before. It was super important to me that they had children, whether they were divorced or widowed didn’t matter.
Why did you want someone like that? Because I had children, and I know people who married someone for the second time around who didn’t have children, and they had challenges. For me, it was really important that I wasn’t teaching someone how to parent. I felt like there was so much involved in getting married a second time that I wasn’t prepared to do. I just wanted someone who knew what it was like to be a parent and understood the struggles of raising a child alone. I wanted to share that experience with somebody.
Okay, so your husband, whom you're married to now for many years, is not Chabad. Could you tell us about that? It's funny you say that; if you would ask him, he would tell you he is Chabad. Well, he's by the right... [The conversation continues]
Marriage thrives on mutual respect and openness; it's not about changing who you are, but finding common ground to build a family together.
Because I had children, I think about the importance of shared experiences in a relationship. I do know people who married for a second time without children and then had a child, or vice versa. For me, it was really important that I wasn't teaching someone how to parent. I felt like there was so much involved in getting married a second time that I wasn't prepared to take on that responsibility. I just wanted someone who knew what it was like to be a parent and understood the struggles of raising a child alone. I wanted to share that experience with somebody.
Now, regarding my husband, whom I have been married to for many years, he is not Chabad. However, it's funny you say that; if you would ask him, he would tell you he is Chabad. Well, he is by the right now, so maybe he has become more connected. The people who know him would probably say he is more Chabad than most. You know, it's always that thing you were just telling me about the interview with a GS, right? She chose a Yekke, and somehow when they choose it, it always seems to be that much stronger.
While my husband wasn't raised Chabad, his connection to it has grown significantly. He actually had a connection to Chabad way before me. First of all, my husband grew up in Kloisenberg, and his family was really into exposing their children to all kinds of Rebbes and holy people. He has a memory of going to a Tefillin parade with the Rebbe when he was very little, and he recalls his mother telling him to use his eyes and look at the Rebbe's holy eyes, not to take his eyes off him. From a very young age, he was exposed to Chabad teachings and practices.
When he got divorced, he started a Tanya class in his house, so he was pretty connected even before we met. Yes, he does come from a Chabad background. People often ask me what I had to change to marry him, and I say nothing. When you have mutual respect and figure out how you want to raise your family, you don't necessarily have to change things. Some people choose to change things, and that's fine. I have chosen to adopt certain of my husband's customs, and he has chosen to incorporate some of mine into our family unit, and that's perfectly fine.
I believe that this approach can be good advice for marriage in general. However, first marriages are a little different. In general, people tend to marry those with similar backgrounds. I'm not a Shadchan or a pro, but I think we would have less of a Shidduch crisis if we were all a bit more open. I have a friend who swore she would never marry a guy like her husband, but now she is married to a guy who wears a kippah. She got married at a much older age, but she had this preconceived notion. Sometimes we get caught up in these ideas. I'm not saying that minhagim aren't important; they are. However, you can be a little open-minded when there is mutual respect.
Now, am I telling every 18-year-old girl to marry a 20-year-old guy? No, I don’t think that makes sense. But sometimes, when your Shidduch doesn’t come along exactly when you want it, I think it’s okay to be a bit open-minded.
Moving on to my extended family, I want to discuss my videos with Peter Santinello and Schami Zions, which have become some of the most viral Jewish videos on YouTube. But before we get into that, I definitely want to spend some time on my extended family and the amazing community we live in. Our Jewish community is phenomenal. If you actually stop for a moment to think about every organization that exists in this community, it is mind-boggling and fascinating. There is literally nothing like it.
For instance, you can find a wedding gown, support for sick children, and numerous organizations dedicated to various causes. I just discovered there’s a baby furniture organization that helps families who can’t afford to buy essentials like swings. I remember during Hurricane Sandy, people were bringing in heaters and all kinds of machinery to help those in need. There’s literally everything you could think of in our community.
In a community filled with resources, sometimes the most vital support is the one we create ourselves.
We live in an amazing community. Our Jewish community is phenomenal. If you actually just stop for one second to think about every organization that exists in this community, it's mindboggling and fascinating. There's nothing like it. You can find a wedding gown, support for a sick child, and there are literally ten organizations for every need. I just found out there’s a baby furniture organization; if you have a child and you can’t afford to buy a swing, they bring you one. I remember during Hurricane Sandy, people were bringing in heaters and all kinds of machinery. There’s literally everything available.
However, after I got divorced, I realized my kids didn’t really have a support system. I thought, "Wow, we live in such an amazing community, but this is lacking." So, I turned to my Rabbi, Rabbi Yi and Tippy Vigler from Flatbush, who I must credit for my current position. Without them, I would not be sitting here today. They have guided me from day one, and there were times they told me to do things I really didn’t want to do. I did them kicking and screaming, and they were right every single time.
I went to them and said, "We’ve got to start something." They are doers and run a shul along with all kinds of programs, and they were on board. It’s funny how we started; we decided to do a Hanukkah party for kids from single-parent homes. We put out a little flyer and hung it in a pizza shop in Flatbush, thinking we would get maybe ten kids. We decided to host it in the rabbi's house, which, if you know most rabbi's homes, are not large.
To our surprise, 350 kids showed up! We quickly realized we couldn’t accommodate everyone in the rabbi's dining room, so we ended up renting the Goov Avenue L. We didn’t have a budget or donors; we were just starting a little initiative. That was the first debt we went into for the organization. We threw this huge Hanukkah party, and that’s how the organization became an organization. We thought, "Whoa, there’s really a need," and that’s how it all started. It really came from a personal need to find something for my children to fill that void.
So, what does my extended family do today? Currently, my extended family operates seven locations. We just opened our first branch in Israel, and we see approximately 650 kids a week across all seven locations. The kids come either once or twice a week, depending on their age group and location. They meet, get supper, receive homework help, and have a mentor—either a big brother or big sister from a local high school—who stays with them throughout the year.
There’s always a social activity where they work on different skills, such as bullying, self-respect, or confidence, all within the context of a fun activity. There are games and fun, making it really like a club. It’s a place where kids from single-parent homes can feel that they have somewhere to be themselves. They can ask each other, "Hey, where are you going to be this Shabbat? Are you going to be with your father or your mother?" Most kids can’t use those words in school because most people wouldn’t understand what they’re talking about.
It’s not necessarily the kids' fault; it’s kind of heartbreaking. They feel ashamed, but I think it also depends on the child. Some kids do feel shame, while others just think that people wouldn’t understand. Most eight-year-olds don’t get that kind of situation. We also provide various other supports because, let’s face it, single parents are superheroes, and we’re just here to help them along.
Holidays can be a tough time for single parents, especially since many have to work. Holidays are usually a time when families come together, so we step in to provide the support they need.
Single parents are superheroes, and with the right support, their kids can turn struggles into extraordinary strength.
What they're talking about is that it's totally not their fault, and it's kind of heartbreaking. The children feel ashamed, or not necessarily ashamed; I think that depends on the kid. There is some shame involved, but I think it's just that people wouldn't understand. For example, when asked, "What do you mean? Are you going to be with your father or your mother?" most eight-year-old kids don't get that.
There are all kinds of other things we address. Single parents are superheroes, and we're there just to help them along. Hal is a tough time for single parents; a lot of them have to work. Halid is a time when families usually come together, so we kind of step in. We take the kids on Halay trips before Yum, and they receive gift cards to buy themselves new clothes. Every kid gets a gift card; we don't do hand-me-downs. Instead, every child gets a gift card to choose their own dress or suit. Additionally, they receive money in their grocery accounts. While our focus is really on the child, at the end of the day, they are part of a family unit, so we chip in that way.
We also do a lot of school intervention. Sadly, many kids from single-parent homes don't have the advocacy in the schooling system that they need. For instance, if tuition isn't paid, they might just kick the kid out of school. I'm not here to say what's right or wrong; the schools have to do what they have to do. However, this is a fact. Many kids are not getting the support they need because their parents are going through so much of their own drama and trauma. Sometimes, the kids get set aside, and their schooling becomes affected, along with their grades. We get involved in advocacy by approaching the schools and saying, "Hey, don't just kick the kid out; talk to us. We'll work with you. We're here to support you through this."
We have a crisis fund, but we don't hand out cash. If something happens, like a mother losing her job, we step in. We can cover the rent for a few months or help in other ways. At the beginning of the school year, every kid gets a backpack filled with school supplies. We just try to be that supportive Uncle or Aunt figure in their lives.
It sounds overwhelming, the amount of things that we are doing. It's a lot, especially with a very big budget. We started out as a tiny organization, but it has just grown. We receive phone calls daily from communities all over the world, begging us to open in their areas. The budget is over $3 million right now, which is a huge number to collect. RB Vigler does an amazing job with that aspect of it, and between the two of us, that's where the funds come in. It's a big job.
Do I envision being in every city in ten years? I envision that Mashiah will come and there won't be any more divorce because the pain we see in these children is excruciating. That's my dream. But in reality, today, we would like to help as many kids as we can. That's really our goal: to be there for these kids. We've been around long enough to see statistics and understand what happens when kids are involved with us. It's actually beautiful to watch the kids who are really involved come out on top.
RB Vigler likes to say something that’s a little controversial, but I'm going to say it anyway. He says that kids from divorced homes are never normal; they're either really struggling or they're extraordinary because of their struggle. That's kind of what happens; they don't just become mediocre, regular, run-of-the-mill kids. I find that the kids who go through our system and our program, who really get the support and the love—a lot of it's just so much love that they need—they really shine. Many of them today are married and come back to us, saying, "Without having my son and the family, we would have never survived."
That's really beautiful. Is there a story? I'm sure there are many, but is there a particular story that you could share with us that could kind of paint a little more of the extended picture?
Kids from broken homes often rise above their struggles, transforming pain into purpose and extraordinary futures.
Children from divorced homes often exhibit unique characteristics; they are either really struggling or they become extraordinary because of their struggle. This phenomenon means they don't just become like those mediocre regular run-of-the-mill kids. I find that the kids who go through our system and participate in our program, receiving the support and love they need, truly shine. Many of them today are married and return to us, expressing sentiments like, "Without having my son and the family, we would have never survived." That is really beautiful.
Is there a story that could help paint a more vivid picture of this extended family? I’m sure there are many, but let me share two specific stories. Recently, we organized a perm party, which is one of the events where we gather children and their parents. Each branch of our organization often does its own thing, but sometimes we come together, which is amazing—except for obviously Isel. At this particular event, we had around 500 children, and they all came with one parent.
When we first opened, I knew every mother, every father, and every child. Today, however, it’s impossible to keep track. I always bring my kids to the Hanukkah party; it’s my tradition. I greet the parents and enjoy giving out Hanukkah gelt. During this event, a woman approached me, someone I had never seen before. She asked, "Who can I go to to thank for this amazing event?" I offered to introduce her to Reb Vigler. When I brought her over, she started crying—tears streaming down her face. She appeared to be in her late 40s.
After calming her down enough to talk, she shared her story. She has nine children, and her husband just picked up and left one day. She mentioned that she already had two or three married children, with the rest still living at home. She said, "I never worked a day in my life; I raised my children, and all of a sudden, everything was pulled out from under me." With no income and her husband gone, she felt lost. Then she heard about our program, Mike's and the family, and registered her kids. She expressed, "It's the one night a week I know my kids are not eating cereal and milk. It's the one night a week I know my kids are doing their homework. It's the one night a week I know my kids will be happy; they will come home with a smile."
She was crying, filled with gratitude. I sensed that her tears were a mix of pain and overwhelming appreciation. When you are involved in the higher-ups of an organization, you might not feel the pain every day, but moments like this remind you why we work so hard to raise money and invest our time; it’s because we make such a difference. That story will stay with me for a very long time.
Now, you mentioned there was a second story. Yes, we recently held a small fundraiser for our top-tier donors, which was an intimate gathering of just 30 people. We invited a young man, now around 19 or 20 years old, who was once a member of our program. His parents were divorced, and he spoke with such confidence and emotion. While I can’t go into too much detail because he is on video now, it was inspiring to hear him say, "I am only who I am because I have Mike's and the family. You guys were there for us; it's the only reason I'm functional."
He is currently in college, has a great job, and all he wants to do is give back. He said, "The only thing I want to do with my life is become a social worker so I can help kids that went through what I went through."
Transformation comes full circle when those who once received help become the ones who give it back.
The family situation was challenging; his parents were divorced, and he came into the program with a lot on his mind. I remember when he was in the program; I can't get into too much detail because he's on video now, so I have to be careful. However, he had to speak with such confidence and emotion.
That's another part of it: yes, you see these kids now, and you see the pain, but then it's such a joy to see somebody like that get up and say, "I am only who I am because I have my family, because you guys were there for us. It's the only reason I'm functional." He's in college, has a great job, and all he wants to do is give back. He said, "The only thing I want to do with my life is become a social worker so I can help kids that went through what I went through."
When you see that Circle of Life, keep in mind that I was a taker; my kids were in the program, and I was divorced. So to see that Circle of Life, where you're able to be the taker and then become the giver, and now you're at the next generation where these kids are now going to be the givers again after having been the takers, is beyond rewarding. It's magical to see.
I think those are two stories that will always be an inspiration for me: the pain, but then also the joy. I totally hear that.
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Now, let's continue the episode and talk about SH Space. What's that? Glad you asked! Bipping created SH Space as a community-driven initiative to revolutionize synagogue management. For too long, gab and shuls have been stuck with outdated, mediocre software. SH Space is different; it's built on obsessive feedback from the real heroes, the gabim.
We've conducted over 500 interviews with shuls, meticulously organizing every comment to create a product that truly works. What makes SH Space stand out? Managing shul finances shouldn't be a nightmare, yet getting pledges paid often is. For instance, one shul had all payments held up for four years due to technicalities, amounting to a whopping $45,000.
Generic solutions like QuickBooks or outdated shul software just don't cut it. SH Space is designed specifically for gabim and members, ensuring it aligns with how they think and operate. Smart shuls want smart features. SH Space offers streamlined tools, email, text, and WhatsApp reminders for invoices, easy online payments, including donor-advised funds, and a member portal to save payment methods.
You might be asking, why invoice pledges? Unpaid pledges add up, costing shuls tens of thousands. SH Space helps bring these pledges in. Shuls using the system have seen $20,000 to $30,000 in old pledges collected in just weeks. Tirelessly managed shuls often juggle busy careers while dedicating nights and weekends to building spaces for their communities. They deserve better tools, and SH Space is here to provide them.
As an inspiration listener, you'll get a free 30-day trial. You can call, text, or WhatsApp 848-325-7171 or check them out at shspace.com. Really cool!
Now, back to this week's episode. I think we're going to get back to it, but I don't want to forget. You're in a few videos, so we'll get to the Saber Torah before then. Let's talk about the Chabad video. I'm sure it was complicated to even do it, but for those who haven't seen it, we'll link it below so people can watch it. Could you explain what's going on there?
Sure! Peter Santanello is a world-renowned...
Creating spaces for connection and understanding can change the world.
Nights and weekends are dedicated to building spaces for those who deserve better tools, and SHP space is here to provide them. As an inspiration listener, you'll get a free 30-day trial. You can call, text, or WhatsApp at 848-32571 or check them out at SHPspace.com.
Now, back to this week's episode. I think we're going to get back to it, but I don't want to forget that you're in a few videos. So, before we get to the saber Torah, let's talk about the Chabas video. I'm sure it was complicated to even do it, but for those who haven't seen it, we'll link it below so people can watch it.
Could you explain what's going on there? Sure! Peter Santanello is a world traveler who has millions of followers on YouTube, Facebook, and Instagram. His mission is to bring cultures together, basically to expose the world to cultures that people don’t usually get to see, and to show them on YouTube so that people can understand them better. He is trying to create a better world where people are more understanding and kind to each other, instead of being dismissive and thinking, "Oh, who are those weirdos?" He does an incredible job of telling a story without being biased or injecting his own opinion. Shout out to Peter for the amazing work he does!
One day, I received a phone call from a good friend, Schami Z, who many of you may know. His wife, Mushki, and I are good friends as well. He called me up with a great idea: he was doing a series about Orthodox Judaism with Peter Santanello. I was like, "Who is Peter Santanello, and why are you calling me?" He insisted that he wanted to do a Shabas night at my house, saying, "We are going to make history, and it has to happen at your place." I was confused and asked, "Why me? Isn't there a place for this?" He was adamant that it had to be me.
Initially, I thought about it, but I was sure my husband wouldn't agree. I told Schami, "Even if you convince me, there's no way Ellie is doing this." He kept insisting that it would make a huge impact and that I would make a difference in the world. After a few phone calls, I was convinced, but I told him he had to deal with Ellie because I wasn't getting involved in that part. He assured me he would handle it and that I needed to be comfortable with the situation.
Eventually, I put in a call to Rabbi Fran, who is another integral part of our lives. I explained the opportunity we had, but that Ellie wasn't on board. Rabbi Fran said, "Leave it to me," and he called Ellie. I don't know what he said or how he did it, but he managed to convince my husband to participate.
So, Peter came to our house with a GoPro—nothing professional, just a GoPro. We were instructed not to talk to the camera and to simply run our regular Shabas meal, which is exactly what we did. I should mention that I don't think Schami knew this when he approached us, but our house revolves around our Shabas table. Our entire week and Shabas focus on Shabas night and day. Our kids know that if they want to find us, we are usually at the table. The community knows that regardless of when Shabas starts—whether at 6:00 in the afternoon or 9:00 at night—we typically stay at the table until 1:00 or 12:00 in the morning. It's very normal for us to have a long Shabas afternoon, and we enjoy singing and conversing.
So, that's what we did. We hosted Peter Santanello and had our regular Shabas meal filled with singing and conversation. To be honest, I was excited about it, but there was a part of me that...
Creating a welcoming Shabbat table can change perceptions and inspire connections across communities.
Our entire week revolves around Shabbos in our house. On Shabbos night and Shabbos day, our kids know that if they want to find us, we're usually at the table. The community is aware that regardless of whether Shabbos starts at 6:00 in the afternoon or at 9:00 at night, we typically don’t get up before 1:00 or 12:00 in the morning. It’s very normal for us. Shabbos afternoon is dedicated to the table, and no matter what time Shabbos is over, there’s no such thing as a three-hour Shabbos nap. We sing, we share stories, and it’s a place to hang out.
Recently, we hosted Peter Santanello and had our regular Shabbos meal filled with loads of singing and conversation. To be honest, I was excited about it, but there was a part of me that was really nervous for two reasons. I was concerned about anti-Semitism, even though it was nothing compared to what it is today. Additionally, I was anxious about how the frum community would react and the potential backlash we might face. My kids are not in schools where they have to worry about being thrown out or anything like that, but I still had some concerns about how the frum world would perceive our actions.
However, I have to tell you, we were blown away by the support we received. We thought we were making a statement and that the outside world would get a glimpse of what a frum house looks like on Shabbos. Instead, we received hundreds of messages from people of all walks of life—Modern Orthodox, Chasidic, and everything in between—telling us they never knew a Shabbos table could be so enjoyable. For us, that was such a zchus—an honor—and something we had not planned for. We didn’t do this for the frum world; if we had, we would have invited the entire frum community into our house.
It’s interesting to note that I still receive messages today. My husband and I are big travelers, and no matter where we go in the world, people approach us—Jewish and non-Jewish, from all backgrounds. The video has garnered millions of views, and I was speaking to Schamy, who pointed out another beautiful byproduct: many people who weren’t keeping Shabbos realized, “That’s what Shabbos is like!” We’ve had individuals who used to be frum but weren’t anymore decide to start keeping Shabbos after watching the video. Some of them have even joined us at our table, which is wonderful.
One particularly interesting story involves a girl who reached out to us. She grew up identifying as Irish Catholic, and before her mother passed away, she revealed to her that she was Jewish and encouraged her to watch our video. It turns out she has a strong Jewish lineage; her grandfather is Kiddish, and her mother left Yiddishkeit to marry an Irish Catholic, which is how she was raised. After watching the video, she reached out, and today she is really learning and growing in her Jewish journey. It has been fascinating to witness this progress.
I’m sorry to hear that your kids faced challenges in Yeshiva, but there has been so much good that has come from our experience, which is encouraging.
Now, I want to switch gears because you did another video with Peter, which was very beautiful but is currently bittersweet due to recent events. Could you provide some background on that?
Sure! After Peter joined our Shabbos meal, we stayed in touch and felt like he was part of the family. He was so respectful and kind. We kept saying, “Peter, we’ve got to do this again!” We joked about him coming to my son’s bar mitzvah, but that didn’t work out. At the same time, we were working on a satire in honor of my grandmother, who has a significant place in our lives.
Cherish the moments that make us feel like family, because when they're gone, the loss can feel like losing a part of ourselves.
Joke: "Um yeah, it's really cool, very cool."
Now, I want to switch gears. You did another video with Peter, which was a very beautiful video. However, it is technically right now like extremely bittersweet because of what happened. Could you give us some background on that?
Sure! After Peter joined our Shabbos meal, we stayed in touch. We really felt like he was family, like part of us. He was so respectful and kind, and we kept saying, "Peter, we got to do this again." We kept joking with him, and I was making an upcoming bit for my son. I told him, "You come to the bar mitzvah," but that didn't work out. At the same time, we were writing a satire in honor of my grandmother. I have a grandmother who is a Holocaust survivor who passed away a few years ago, and I was very, very close to her. When she passed away, my husband and I decided we were going to write our first Sefer Torah together, and we were going to dedicate it to her memory.
We were talking to Peter about it, and he said, "You know what? That's something I want to attend." So he came, and we threw a very large event—I think close to a thousand people showed up. It was huge and lined the streets of Pomona. We threw a huge simcha with music and dancing, and Peter joined in. He got to hold the Sefer Torah and dance in the street with it. He really felt like, at that point, he was part of the community. The whole community took him in; everyone was coming over to him because he was already famous. They were dancing with him and talking to him, and he had the time of his life.
That was also a really big Kiddush Hashem, and I think we got a lot of feedback on that one as well. People were amazed that we invested in this old ancient scroll while the world is becoming so much more modern. Here we were, respecting something so ancient and renewing it all the time. You don't just keep this old scroll; you keep writing them, and it's so beautiful to see.
In the interview with Peter at the end, he asked me what it felt like, and I told him it kind of felt like it took us a year to write the Sefer Torah for her. It felt like I was pregnant for a year, and then I gave birth and married off this child—that's what it felt like to me.
However, the sad part is that now the Sefer Torah is gone. If I had to explain the feeling, I have never lost a child, and I don't wish that on anyone. But if I had to describe what that feeling is like, losing that Sefer Torah kind of felt like losing a child. I don't know how else to explain it.
My husband and I, along with our kids, tried to go to Israel for Pesach. This year, we had plans to go, and we were supposed to leave the Wednesday before Pesach. At 5:30 a.m., we woke up to helicopters surrounding our neighborhood, buzzing and making noise. We live in Pomona, which is a quiet neighborhood—there are no helicopters here. We thought, "Something's up." My husband picked up his phone and saw he had 17 missed calls. He realized something was going on. He picked up the phone, and it was our friend, Na Maris, who basically runs our Shul. He said, "The Shul is burning."
Now, this Shul is very special. It's not your regular Shul. It's hard to even talk about. We live in Pomona, which is large, and I think just on our side of town, there are like seven or eight Shuls. If I may say so, our Shul is very unique. It's a small Shul, but it's home to many people from many different walks of life—people who wouldn't have anywhere else to go. It's not really a Shul; it was really people's home.
The more feedback we hear now that the Shul is gone, the more we hear how much it meant to people. There are people who are not going to Shul anymore because it doesn't exist. We started the Shul—three families that really started it from the ground up—about six years ago when we moved into Pomona. We bought a property three years ago; it was actually Dr. Zeno's house. Fun fact: it had bulletproof windows because he was scared for his life.
A small shul that became a home for many is now just ashes, but its spirit lives on in the hearts of those it served.
The shul we had, if I may say so, was very unique. It was a small shul, but it was home to many people from various walks of life—people who, in many cases, had nowhere else to go. It wasn't just a shul; it was truly a home for many. The more feedback we receive now that the shul is gone, the more we hear how much it meant to people. There are individuals who are no longer going to shul because it doesn't exist anymore.
We started the shul about six years ago when three families came together after moving to Pomona. We bought a property—a house—three years ago, which was actually Dr. Zeno's house. Fun fact: it had bulletproof windows because he was scared for his life due to death threats. We purchased the house from him while he was still alive and transformed it into a shul. We put in a men's mikvah, and we were in the process of adding a women's mikvah as well.
The shul was a place based on tzedakah; it didn't matter if you had money or not. Whether you gave a dollar or a hundred dollars, everyone contributed something when they came in. Every single day, we had people lining up to enter our shul. I must admit, it doesn't sound nice, but it's the truth: sometimes it was hard to have people knocking on your door all the time at the shul. However, the beautiful part of the shul was that they were always thanked for coming. One of the guys in the shul made breakfast every single morning for everyone and expressed gratitude for their presence. It was a place where people felt welcome.
In the last three years, millions of dollars in tzedakah were distributed from this tiny Pomona shul, making it a truly special place. On that fateful morning, around 6 o'clock, my husband ran to the shul, and I followed a few minutes later. We stood there, helpless, watching the shul burn down. It was surreal. The fire department tried to respond, but we live in Pomona, which is somewhat far from the nearest fire station, and the firefighters are all volunteers. Unlike living in a city like Brooklyn, where firefighters are nearby and can respond in seconds, here, they had to come from their homes after receiving a call, which took time.
In Pomona, the closest fire department was a ten-minute drive away, and by the time they arrived, it was already too late. They struggled to set up properly, and what began as a small fire quickly became uncontrollable. We stood there, watching the shul burn to the ground. I even have a picture of that moment. The whole time, all we could think about was our Sifrei Torah inside. We had three Sifrei Torah in the shul: one that we dedicated when Peter came, another that we salvaged from the Holocaust, refurbished, and made kosher, and the third was written by friends and dedicated just a year ago by the Maris family.
As we stood there, the only thing on our minds was that our Sifrei Torah were inside. They were like our babies, and there was nothing we could do. They were in a safe, but safes are usually fire-rated for only 60 to 90 minutes, and this fire burned much longer. Additionally, they are not waterproof. The floor of the shul collapsed due to the fire, causing the safe to fall into the basement, where gallons of water were being poured on it. We hoped that the Sifrei Torah would be salvageable, but we knew it was likely that they were either burned or waterlogged.
Unfortunately, we had a flight to catch, and it was incredibly painful and difficult to walk away without knowing what happened to our Sifrei Torah. We only found out later what had transpired.
Even in the ashes of loss, hope can rise from the smallest things, reminding us that rebuilding is not just about structures, but about the spirit we carry forward.
We could think of the safe as our baby. There was nothing we could do; it was in a safe, but the safes are usually fire-rated for only about 60 or 90 minutes, and this fire burned for way longer. Additionally, it's not waterproof. What happened was that the basement floor of the Sho collapsed due to the fire, and the whole safe, along with the kides, fell into the basement. Then, gallons of water were poured on it. We knew that, while we were hoping they would be salvageable, it was likely that they were either burned or waterlogged.
Now, we had a flight to catch, and it was very painful and difficult to walk away without knowing what happened to Thea. We only found out once we were on the plane. They had to call in a special unit with a crane to pull the safe out, and when they did, gallons of water came pouring out. We knew they had pulled those cph tires out, and there was nothing left. It was extremely painful not to be there and to see pictures of those brand new C Tires, totally destroyed and not salvageable.
So, where do we go from here? We are going to rebuild because we don't have a choice. The Sho is home for people; I can't explain it. People who are watching this will eventually comment and tell you that the Sho is something special. We are going to rebuild; it's not a choice, but it will take time and will be a process. We will build bigger and better Le sheris because that's what a sh wants from us. However, I won't take away from the pain and the grieving. My husband got up every single morning at 6:00 a.m. and took his stuff to go to the Mikvah, and now he's asking, "Where am I going?"
We are very lucky that another Sho in the community took us in and gave us space in their Shool, and we are staying there for now. But, you know, it's not our home. We will build, but I want to share something interesting. When we dedicated the saer Tera for my grandmother, my husband's friends got together and made a replica of a SAA in a mini version, like this big, with a real silver crown. The mantel was made from the same material, and they wrote on it; it was beautiful.
My son, who is 5 years old, took it with him. They put it in a case, like a souvenir, saying, "Your Ty is in the so; here's a souvenir to keep in your house." My son decided, at five years old, to take the to and put it in there. It stayed next to the other one; it's blue, the sa is a big blue one, and then there’s this miniature. Every sh would take out the sa, and he would take his sa tire out and then put it back, busy with it.
When this all happened, all he kept thinking about was his sa her. We didn't know how to tell him that there was no chance Shaya that the sa her was around; it was over. But we didn't want to tell him anything. While we were on the plane, we got a picture of them taking the safe out. They took this little one out, and there was an argument about whether it was real or not. We saw it was in basically good condition. They laid it on our dining room table while we weren't home; we were already on the plane.
To our surprise, it was fully intact. We have no idea how the crown remained intact, and the mantel didn't burn. There was nothing left from any of these CA; this was the only thing that survived. We washed it off, and now it's in our house. For us, I can't explain it, but I felt like this was my son Ari's hope. This was what he looked forward to, and in a child's eyes, even though the Sav is not real, it was special to him, and it survived.
Every time I look at it, I feel like a child again; this signifies hope. Sitting in our house, it's really beautiful to see that out of everything, I guess Hashem had a plan. I don't know; you know, we don't.
Hope can survive even the toughest storms; it's a light that guides us through the darkest times.
The crown is falling intact; the mantle didn't burn. We have no idea why there’s nothing left from any of these events, but this is the only thing that survived. We washed it off, and it's in our house. For us, I find it hard to explain this, but I felt like this kid, my son Ari. This was like his hope; you know, this was what he looked forward to. In a child's eyes, even though it’s not real, this was special to him, and it survived. I kind of felt the same way when I saw it. Every time I look at it, I feel like a child again. This signifies hope. Sitting in our house, it's really beautiful to see that out of everything. I guess Hashem, I don’t know—we don’t know why Hashem did this. It's hard to fathom, really hard. A little bit, I think it was like a carbon; the whole thing went off in flames. It feels painful, but I guess Hashem wanted to protect the feelings of a child, and he spared him. That’s really beautiful.
As we wrap up, I just want to finish off with another one or two questions about my extended family. What would you say to a kid watching this who’s going through a hard time because their parents are either getting divorced or just got divorced? I would tell them, first of all, Hashem loves you. It might not feel that way right now, but Hashem loves you, and the community is here for you. My family is for sure here for you, and somehow this is going to pass. It’s going to pass; it’s a stage, not forever. You’re going to grow up, you’re going to evolve, and it’s going to get better. There’s hope; there’s light at the end of the tunnel. I think that’s so important for kids to know.
It’s really difficult for kids, especially in messy divorces where sadly they’re being used as pawns or whatever. Kids are in really extreme pain, and I think it’s so important to show these kids that there’s hope and that the community loves them. When I say the community loves them, I’m actually speaking to the community: reach out, love these kids. They’re in your community, they’re on your block, they’re in your shul, they’re in your kids' classes. It doesn’t take much—invite them for a Shabbat meal, offer to take the kid to shul, something, anything. It’s such a little thing that can change these kids' lives.
I know you asked me to talk to the child, but I actually want to talk to the community for sure. There are so many stories; I know for myself, I had a neighbor who just reached out. Had they not been there for me, I would have been miserable, and my kids would have been miserable. They reached out even though it wasn’t the cool thing to do then. So I’m just saying to the community: we’re such good people. Don’t get caught up in whose fault this is or the stigma; reach out to these kids because you’ll actually save their lives. This is real. The kids that don’t get this support end up on drugs, on the streets, or worse. I don’t know if you know the few stories that just happened—a young kid committed suicide over his parents' divorce. I didn’t know it was related to divorce, but this was related to a divorce situation. I know people very close to this child; this was a huge messy divorce. This is what happens.
So you have an opportunity, just like Cella’s opportunity, to save people’s lives. There are so many organizations; you have an opportunity just by a kind word or a smile to really change a kid’s life and to save their neshamah.
For the last question, it’s a bit of a personal one, but you could totally make it not personal if you want. What advice would you give to yourself during that hardest, loneliest moment, like after your divorce? Going through it, what advice would you give to yourself? I wish I had the strength then to know what I know now, but that’s always how it is, you know? I wish I would have seen the light; I wish I would have seen the hope. There were so many days that I couldn’t see it. I just thought, like, “Just let me give up. What am I doing? I’m never going to make it.” When I was able to find the strength within myself to see the light, it changed everything for me.
In your darkest moments, surrender the burden and let hope guide you to brighter days.
In response to a personal question about advice during the hardest and loneliest moments, particularly after a divorce, the speaker reflects on their past experiences. They express a desire for the strength they now possess, wishing they had known then what they know now. They lament, "I wish I would have seen the light; I wish I would have seen the hope." There were many days when they felt overwhelmed, thinking, "just let me give up," and doubting their ability to move forward. However, finding the strength within themselves to see the light changed everything.
This newfound strength led to a significant turning point in their life, including meeting their husband. They describe a moment of surrender, saying, "at a point where you just give it over to Hashem," acknowledging that they needed divine assistance. They reflect on wishing they had the strength to say, "Hashem, like you did this, help me through this." This act of letting go of their burdens allowed them to find hope and ultimately led to meeting their husband shortly after Sukkot, culminating in marriage six months later.
The speaker emphasizes the importance of taking the load off oneself and recognizing that sometimes, it is essential to hand over one's struggles to a higher power. They believe this message is something they would share with both a child and their past self, highlighting the beauty of resilience and faith.
For those who wish to support Mike and the family, the speaker provides information about their organization, which can be found on Instagram and their website, mf.org. They encourage community involvement, mentioning that they welcome volunteers and donations. The speaker notes, "the most beautiful phone calls I get is that neighbor that calls me up and says my neighbor is getting divorced; how can I help them?" They invite anyone who knows someone going through a divorce to reach out for assistance.
As the conversation concludes, the speaker expresses gratitude, stating, "thank you so much for doing this," and encourages listeners to leave the word hope in the comments. They invite suggestions on how to help children from divorced families, fostering a sense of community and shared learning.
The speaker acknowledges the current challenges faced by the Jewish community, particularly in light of recent tragic events involving captives in Gaza. They remind listeners of the importance of standing by one another during dark times, whether through financial support or creating mitzvot in memory of those lost. The message resonates with the idea that there is inspiration everywhere, even in the darkest moments, encouraging everyone to strive for resilience and support one another.