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Growing Resilience this Shvat

Writer's picture: KirvaKirva

By Sam Fine

Image description: Blog post image that shows text on top of a photo of a winter forest, showing snow on the ground surrounded by a dense forest of tall, thin trees, some dusted with snow. Text reads: Shvat 5785, by Sam Fine. The Kirva logo in white is above the text.
Image description: Blog post image that shows text on top of a photo of a winter forest, showing snow on the ground surrounded by a dense forest of tall, thin trees, some dusted with snow. Text reads: Shvat 5785, by Sam Fine. The Kirva logo in white is above the text.

As we enter the month of Shvat, a time when our tradition draws our hearts and minds to the trees and their profound wisdom, I find myself grappling with the aftermath of the devastating wildfires at home in Los Angeles. On top of that, we are watching in horror as Trump and his new regime attempt to disrupt billions of dollars of aid to our most vulnerable citizens, dismantle environmental protections, violently target our immigrant and trans siblings, and eliminate DEI-related programs. It’s hard not to start emails by naming the hard times we’re in, that we’ve been in. Like last month, last year, and the year before that, our work feels more needed than ever—which I believe is true. We need resilience to navigate these times, just as our ancestors did. In these narrow moments, I turn to my spiritual toolbox—something I cultivate in good times to sustain me through the hard ones.

For that reason, I’m so grateful, that we at Kirva started early January with a spiritual immersive—a program we decided to host after the news of Trump’s election. Around 30 of us spent three days together Pearlstone Retreat Center to gather  as a community and deepen in Jewish spiritual practice to strengthen our souls for what’s to come. It was nourishing to be together to practice hitbodedut (unscripted prayer) in the snow, to get a taste of a  ‘Mussar house’ filled with Mussar chanting, to strategize how to bring spiritual tools to our justice work, and to feel joy. 

On our final evening, Dan Gelbtuch and I led a session called Joy in Times of Crisis, where we dug into the importance of cultivating and practicing joy/simcha. The session ended with an exuberant dance party, pictured below. The simcha I felt from the dance party—from the music, from seeing new and old friends laughing and moving—was intentionally cultivated and deeply needed. About 20 minutes into the dancing, we received news of the devastating fires breaking out back home in Los Angeles. That joy from dancing together as a community was needed, and helped sustain me as I navigated getting back home the next day to uncertainty.

Image description: Collage of four photos. Photo 1 shows the full group of 27 attendees and faculty posing for a silly photo indoors, with arms in the air and funny faces. Photo 2 shows a group of eight people sitting around a table, paired off having conversations. Photo 3 shows a snowy forest, with a winding stream cutting through the center of the photo. Photo 4 shows 13+ people on their feet, smiling, moving, and dancing.


My home and loved ones are safe, but so many others were not. Lives have been lost, homes destroyed, and places I love are gone. Even now, the safety of the air we breathe remains uncertain. In moments when despair feels overwhelming, I hold onto the memory of that dance party, the tools from the immersive, and the sense of community we built there. I’ve also witnessed the power of community here in Los Angeles—when our systems fail us, as they continually do, it’s people who show up for one another, helping us endure these times.

In the aftermath of destruction, holding hope for renewal can feel daunting. But Shvat reminds us that even in the depths of winter, the sap begins to rise, preparing the trees to bloom and nourish the world. Ancient farmers planted seeds in the fall, trusting they would sprout in the spring. In the same way, spiritual practice plants seeds that nourish our souls when we most need them. The immersive planted seeds that have already sustained me and will continue to do so.

This Shvat, may the seeds we plant—through practice, community, and care—be there to sustain us when we need them most.

Sending you all extra care and joy. Please be in touch if we can offer you any support.

Chodesh Tov, Sam Fine, Kirva’s Communications & Development Director

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