Shabbat Shalom: To those who continue to build

There is a line that has stayed with me this week.

It is not enough that we survive, we build.

It would be easy, given our history, to define ourselves by survival alone. To look back across centuries of exile, persecution, and attempted destruction and say that endurance is the story.

But it isn’t, survival is only the beginning.

The story of the Jewish people has never been simply that we are still here. It is that we continue, that we rebuild, that we plant, that we create life in the aftermath of those who sought to extinguish it.

Again and again, across time, across continents, across circumstances that would have broken others, we have made the same choice. Not just to endure what was, but to invest in what will be.

To raise families, to build communities, to contribute to the world around us.
To stand publicly and say, without hesitation, who we are.

That is the real story. Not survival, but continuation. Not memory alone, but renewal.

Each Friday I try to end the week by saying Shabbat Shalom to those who have made a difference over the past few days. Those who, in their own way, have stepped forward and carried that story on.

Every week the names change, but the idea remains the same, to recognise those who do more than simply endure. Those who build, who grow, who refuse to allow the past to define the limits of the future.

This week, that thread could not be clearer.

So this week, I want to say Shabbat Shalom to the following people.

Shabbat Shalom to Pearl Hinda Nagel.

This week, as the world marked Yom Hashoah, Pearl Hinda turned 102 years old.

She survived the Lodz Ghetto. She endured hunger, brutality, the systematic attempt to erase her, her family, her people. She lived through the darkest chapter in human history and outlived those who tried to write its ending.

But her story does not end with survival. She lived to see the founding of the State of Israel. She lived to see the fall of the Iron Curtain. She lived to see a world reshaped in ways that, at one point, must have seemed unimaginable.

Today, she is surrounded not by absence, but by presence. By children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, by generations that exist because she first survived and then she built.

That is the victory. Not just that she survived, but that life continued through her, beyond her, because of her.

When asked the secret to her long life, her answer was as simple as it was profound.

“I always tried to be kind to people. I never lost hope and always believed in God’s help. I want to bless you to appreciate life, to be close with your family, to love them. Peace in Israel and in the entire world. I know the importance of time. Use your time wisely and do kindness to each other. I saw much pain and suffering and I know that despite all of the hardships you can still find happiness and joy."

After everything she saw, everything she endured, that is what she chose to carry forward. Kindness, faith, family, life.

Pearl Hinda Nagel is not just a witness to history, she is the embodiment of what comes after it. What she carried forward did not end with her generation. It lives on, not just in memory, but in how we show up in the world today.

Shabbat Shalom to Pearl Hinda Nagel, and to those who remind us that survival is not the end of the story, but the foundation upon which everything else is built.

Shabbat Shalom to Deni Avdija.

This week, he continued to rewrite the history books.

The first Israeli to be named an NBA All-Star. The most prominent Jewish player in the league in decades and now, a postseason debut that delivered 41 points, 7 rebounds and 12 assists, carrying the Portland Trail Blazers to the Western Conference’s 7 seed.

These are the numbers, they matter, but they are not the whole story.

Because Deni Avdija does not hide who he is. He does not separate his identity from his platform, nor does he shrink from the reality of representing Israel and the Jewish people on one of the most visible stages in the world.

He embraces it. Writing “Am Yisrael Chai" on his sneakers, speaking openly about rising antisemitism. Standing firm in an environment where doing so is not always easy, not always comfortable, and not always without consequence.

For years, he has been the only Jewish player in the NBA. That is not just a statistic, it is a responsibility, one he has carried not with hesitation, but with pride.

His presence is not just about performance. It is about visibility and representation, it is about showing, week after week, that Jewish identity is not something to be hidden or diluted, but something to be lived, openly and unapologetically.

In a world where there is often pressure to step back, to soften, to blend in, he has done the opposite, he has stepped forward.

In doing so, he has become part of a generational story, 3000 years in the making. Not of survival, but of continuation. Of a people who are not just here, but who are present, visible and thriving at the very highest level.

Shabbat Shalom to Deni Avdija, and to those who carry their identity with pride, who represent without apology, and who remind the world, simply by being there, that we are still here.

Shabbat Shalom to the farmers of southern Israel.

Continuation is not only about how we stand in the present, it is about what we choose for the future, moments when continuation is not spoken, not declared, but planted.

This week, in communities near Gaza, farmers returned to land that had been damaged, abandoned, or left uncertain after months of conflict. Fields that had fallen silent are being worked again, crops are being planted again, life is being restarted, row by row, seed by seed.

One farmer said it simply.

“If we don’t plant, we’re giving up and we’re not giving up."

That is the entire story in one sentence. Because planting is not just an act of labour, it is an act of faith.

You place something small into the ground with no immediate return. You trust that with time, with care, with patience, it will grow into something far greater than what you can see in that moment.

In Jewish tradition, that act carries meaning far beyond agriculture. It is about belief in the future, about refusing to allow the present moment, however difficult, to dictate what comes next.

This week, that belief is alive in the soil of Israel. Not in theory, not in rhetoric, but in action. People returning, rebuilding, refusing to abandon their homes, their land, their future.

Choosing to plant, even after everything.

Shabbat Shalom to the farmers of southern Israel, and to those who understand that the ultimate act of resilience is not just to stand, but to grow.

Every week there are people who make a difference. Not always loudly, not always visibly, but always meaningfully.

This week’s Shabbat Shalom recognises just a few of them. A woman who turned survival into generations. An athlete who carries identity onto the global stage with pride. A community that returns to the land and chooses to plant again.

Different lives, different arenas, the same instinct. To continue, to build, to invest in what comes next.

Because that is how this story has always been written. Not by those who simply endured, but by those who chose, again and again, to move forward.

So if someone made a difference this week, by building something, by creating something, by choosing to invest in the future when it would have been easier to step back, add their name. Because there are far more people worthy of a Shabbat Shalom than can fit into a single column.

Shabbat Shalom, and may we remember that survival was never the story, only the beginning of what we chose to build.