As I write this, the headlines are filled with deeply troubling images of antisemitic protests at Yale. By the time you read it, it’s possible another wave of hatred will have already taken its place—just the latest in a relentless drumbeat that has continued since October 7. Across the world, we’ve been forced into a posture of defense — of proving we have a right to exist, a right to self-determination and sovereignty in our homeland, and to defend ourselves against those who want to wipe us off the planet. Our ancestors knew this posture well, but the volume and intensity we’re experiencing now are new to us—even after decades of terrorism and creeping institutional capture by our enemies. Nothing, however, compares to what we have faced since October 7.
The trauma has touched every one of us in some form, whether we are under fire or reading the news from afar. Even at times when we have respite from physical threat, we are wired as part of our survival instincts to focus more on what’s painful than what’s good. Negativity bias is more likely to motivate our behavior. In the wake of October 7, the entire Jewish people has felt the grip of negativity bias. It is hard not to. We are alert. We are afraid. We are flooded with imagery and memory that pull our focus toward loss, destruction, and existential threat. When the pain is too sharp, when the fear is too acute, we start defining ourselves by what we are fighting against rather than what we’re living for.
But our religion is far deeper than “they tried to kill us, they failed, let’s eat.” The Torah tells us to see God’s salvation in our experiences, to strive to live by principled values, and to try to live God-centered lives. And that’s why, this summer, I believe we need more than defense. We need depth. We need to flex our positivity muscles.
Torah Study as Resistance to Despair
Negativity bias isn’t new to us. It’s embedded in some of our most powerful Biblical stories. The meraglim, the spies in Parshat Shelach who were supposed to latur, scout out, the promised land, saw a land of promise, flowing with milk and honey — but were paralyzed by their fear. “We were like grasshoppers in our own eyes,” (Bamidbar 13:33) they said. A self-fulfilling prophecy. Kalev and Yehoshua saw another path, but couldn’t fight the anxiety displayed by over eighty percent of the group. Threat was amplified; safety minimized. Fear, cynicism and spiritual paralysis ensued.
But Torah, in its profound understanding of the human psyche, has always offered tools—not only to survive catastrophe, but to grow forward from it. We do not wallow in pain, rather we rise in purpose. Judaism teaches us to process trauma not by turning inward and growing smaller, but by anchoring ourselves in truth and expanding outward. Hashem commands the mitzvah of tzitzit. The very same verb used to describe their fearful exploration— “latur”—is echoed in the instruction to remember the mitzvot, and “velo taturu acharei levavchem veacharei eineichem” to not get pulled toward negativity. (Bamidbar 15:39) Be aware of this bias, and train your eyes to see purpose, to remember mitzvot, to be drawn toward good. Rabbi Meir in Menachot 43b comments that that tiny strand of blue tzitzit reminds us of the sea, which reminds us of the sky, which reminds us of the throne of glory. In other words, it helps us zoom out to the bigger picture, away from the negativity and towards the glory.
This is Torah’s method: we do not deny the pain, but we refuse to let it be the end of the story. We respond to spiritual threat not with despair, but with structure: Torah study and good deeds. This channels memory into meaning.
A Place to Reclaim Ourselves
The Nishmat Summer Beit Midrash from July 3-24 is a space to breathe and work on strengthening our positivity bias. To go beyond headlines, hashtags, and superficial slogans — and back into a world of rooted, rigorous, and redemptive learning.
It’s open to women at every stage of life — college students navigating campus chaos, mothers catching their breath while kids are at camp, mid-career professionals looking to recenter, retirees ready to reengage. The women who come are diverse in background, ability, and experience — but they share one thing in common: they’re beyond just surviving. They want to grow.
Some stay for the full three weeks. Others drop in for one. It’s flexible, thoughtful, and serious — but never stiff. The Beit Midrash is warm, alive, intellectually honest and spiritually ambitious. You’ll be given the tools to think deeper.
Why Now
There’s no shortage of programs, vacations, or “ways to spend your summer.” But Nishmat’s Summer Beit Midrash will transform you.
This is about learning Torah and remembering why we care in the first place. It’s about choosing to define our Judaism not only by the pain we’ve inherited, but by the promise we carry.
We can’t afford to stay in a posture of fear. The best answer to the world’s distortion of our identity is to clarify our identity ourselves- in depth and in joy.
This summer, come learn. Come ask. Come be part of something that roots you deeper in who you are — and who you’re becoming.
To learn more or apply, visit https://nishmat.net/summer-beit-midrash.
This article was written in cooperation with Nishmat