As we stand at the threshold of another year, I find myself thinking about possibilities.

In our tradition, every moment offers the chance for teshuvah, which involves return, renewal, and, ultimately, transformation. This feels particularly urgent now, during what many are calling the darkest period for Jewish communities in generations.

Since ADRABA’s inception six years ago, we've been engaging with families in Ontario—across the GTA and in small communities like Sudbury and Kingston. Lately, the question I hear most often isn't "How do we celebrate being Jewish?" but "How do we maintain our Jewishness when it feels so fraught and problematic?"

This is a pressing question, but there’s more to it.

In our courses, we don't simply add Jewish content to existing frameworks—we completely reimagine subjects through a Jewish lens. Canadian history becomes the story of modern Canada told through all its peoples' experiences, including our own. Philosophy becomes a conversation between Spinoza and Descartes, between halakhah and ethics, between ancient wisdom and contemporary dilemmas.

The same principle applies to how we navigate difficult times. We don't compartmentalize our Jewishness, setting it aside when it evokes hostility. Instead, we allow our Jewish learning, values, and perspectives to transform how we understand and respond to the world around us.

In ADRABA’s World Religions course, we explore a concept we call "Jewish time." It’s not about being perpetually late, but the cyclical nature of Jewish calendar and consciousness that differs fundamentally from linear Western concepts of progress.

Jewish time teaches us that darkness and light are ever-present and in dialogue. For example, Shabbat moves from Friday evening's gathering darkness to havdalah, where we consciously separate light from dark. Every year cycles through the introspection of High Holy Days, the joy of Simchat Torah, and Hanukkah bringing light in a period of darkness - and with each passing year, our history resonates with and frames the present differently.

We are currently in a dark time. Jewish communities are increasingly grappling with internal divisions. Younger (and not-so-young) Jews are struggling to find meaning in their culture and values that seem so disconnected from lived realities abroad.

But Jewish time reminds us: this is not the end of the story. It's part of the ongoing narrative of a people who have survived—and often thrived—precisely because we learned to find opportunity within crisis, hope within challenge, renewal within apparent ending.

What does this mean practically?

ADRABA courses critically debunk false binaries between pride and criticism. Jewish tradition has always understood that loving our people means engaging critically with both our tradition and our contemporary moment. We can acknowledge genuine fears driving some Jewish political positions while questioning whether those fears lead us toward wisdom or reactivity.

We embrace what I call "the pedagogy of possibility"—recognizing that every crisis contains the possibility of transformation. (I wrote about this tendency of making lemonade out of lemons as a uniquely Jewish technique in End of the Jews: Radical Breaks, Remakes and What Comes Next.) The challenges facing Jewish education today aren't problems to solve but opportunities to reimagine. This is why ADRABA exists: not because traditional Jewish education is failing, but because new forms and modalities can reach students in new ways, showing them that Jewish learning isn't separate from their "real" education. It can enhance and transform it.

Some of our most engaged families come from smaller communities where Jewish infrastructure is limited. These families often feel isolated, uncertain about maintaining Jewish connection without the support systems available in larger centres.

But I've learned something from these families: constraint breeds creativity. When you can't rely on institutional infrastructure, you develop personal practices that are more intentional, more meaningful, more connected to actual action than to social expectation.

The teenagers from these communities bring freshness to our discussions that challenges assumptions. They ask fundamental questions: Why does this matter? How does this connect to my life? What difference does Jewish learning actually make?

These questions, initially uncomfortable, are gifts. They force all of us to articulate not just what we teach but why it matters.

Our history teaches us that Jewish learning has always been most vibrant during periods of challenge and change. The Babylonian Talmud emerged from exile. Medieval Jewish philosophy developed in response to challenging encounters with Greek thought and Islamic learning. Modern Jewish movements arose from emancipation and enlightenment challenges.

We are living through another such moment—not (as many bemoan) a crisis of Judaism, but a creative opportunity for Jewish renewal. The tools at our disposal are unprecedented. We have technology that enables new forms of community and learning. We live in a multicultural society that still celebrates difference. Global awareness connects Jewish experiences with broader human struggles for dignity and justice.

As we begin this new year, I encourage us all to resist temptation toward despair or defensive withdrawal. Instead, consider this an invitation to creative engagement.

Start where you are. Ask different questions. Instead of "How can we weaponize Jewishness?” ask "How can Jewish wisdom inform our response to contemporary challenges?" Instead of "How do we protect Jewish identity?" ask "How do we develop Jewishness that is both rooted in tradition and responsive to current realities?"

Seek connection across difference. Engage with Jews whose politics, practices, or perspectives differ from yours. Our community's greatest strength has always been its diversity of thought within shared commitment to Jewish peoplehood and values.

The darkness is real. But so is the light we can create together. The new year offers us this possibility: not escape from current challenges, but transformation through thoughtful, values-driven engagement with them.

This is Jewish learning at its best—not abstract study disconnected from life, but wisdom that illuminates our path forward through whatever darkness we face.

Shanah tovah u’metukah —may this year be good and sweet for all our people, and may our learning together be a source of light for the world.

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