The holiday season always brings to mind the miracles surrounding us, even in the everyday things we might take for granted. Think about it: the electricity that powers our homes, the roads and cars that connect us to the world, the wonder of flight that lets us soar across continents, and the films and the internet that bring stories and people into our lives. And then there’s love—the most profound miracle of all—grounding us in peace and connection, whether at home or across the globe.

Reflecting on these modern miracles, I am reminded that they did not happen overnight. Behind every innovation were struggles, doubts, and an unwavering belief in the impossible. Perhaps that is why the miracles in my life feel even more profound—they came with challenges, making them all the more meaningful.

My Recent Miracles

Miracle 1: Finding a Home in Jerusalem

Israel has always been more than just a place to visit for me; it feels like a second home where my roots intertwine with the rich history and faith of my ancestors. Over the years, my trips to Israel have been deeply spiritual journeys, shaped by my studies at Shiviti and Simhat Shlomo—two Jewish institutions that have become central to my spiritual growth.

On my last trip to Jerusalem in April, I decided to look for a place to live. Searching from afar was challenging, especially with Jerusalem’s tricky rental market and my limited budget. There were moments of doubt when I wondered if I’d ever find a place that truly felt right. Then I found a small, affordable apartment—not luxurious, but situated in a neighbourhood I love.

I vividly remember the first time I stepped into that apartment. The cool air carried a faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. The space was modest but filled with natural light, and as I stood in the empty rooms, I felt a quiet sense of peace, almost as if the city was welcoming me home. The apartment is tranquil, just a short walk from the lively Emek Refaim Street, with its bustling shops and cafes, and close to the cinemas I enjoy so much.

Returning to Israel right after the Jewish Fall Holidays, I was determined to make this place my own. Over the next five weeks, I poured my heart into transforming that small apartment into a home. Each small step—from arranging furniture to hanging mezuzot on the doorways—deepened my connection to this land.

Miracle 2: Rediscovering the Streets of Jerusalem

Returning to Jerusalem after many years felt like stepping into a living memory that had grown and evolved in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Decades ago, as a student at Hebrew University, I wandered these streets on foot. Back then, the city had a quieter, more intimate feel. Its narrow lanes seemed to whisper secrets from its past.

During my recent visits, I have been impressed by Jerusalem’s transformation. The quiet, small city I once knew has become a lively, modern metropolis. Buses, trains, and highways now seamlessly integrate into its historic surroundings. The city buzzes with traffic, construction, and the lively chatter of a diverse crowd.

Before the Six-Day War in 1967, Jews were unable to access the Western Wall or the Old City. Today, these sacred sites are open to everyone, and the city has expanded in ways I never imagined. Yaffo Street, once a simple route to the Old City, now features a sleek tram—a surreal contrast of modern elegance against the ancient stones. Ben Yehuda Street, where I used to stroll as a student, has transformed into a bustling pedestrian mall filled with cafes, shops, and the constant buzz of city life.

I was really fascinated by Kikar Hamusika, a lovely square near Ben Yehuda. I stumbled upon it for the first time, drawn by the enchanting music of a violinist. Surrounded by people sitting around tables, chatting and laughing, I felt the vibrant energy of the city—deeply connected to its history yet incredibly alive in the present.

Miracle 3: Reconnecting with Old Friends

The day after I arrived in Jerusalem, my brother-in-law, Shragai, called to tell me about a gathering at Barbara Friedman’s apartment. Barbara, a fellow Montrealer, had invited a group of us to catch up, and it was the perfect way to dive back into the city’s social life.

As I walked into her apartment, the smell of freshly baked challah greeted me, instantly transporting me back to the Friday evenings of my childhood when the world seemed to slow down for Shabbat. I was greeted by familiar faces and the warmth of old friendships. One friend even brought a guitar, and soon we were singing together, including a children’s song about Noah’s Ark. It was a sweet moment, especially since it was the Friday before Shabbat, a time when we often reflect on the stories of our ancestors and the lessons they hold for us today.

The music and laughter filled the room, but what struck me most was the connection that had endured despite the years and the miles between us. It was a reminder that some bonds, like the roots of a tree, grow deeper over time, anchoring us to the people and places we hold dear.

Miracle 4: Immersing in the European Cantors Convention in Budapest

On November 1st, I left Israel for Hungary to attend the European Cantors Convention at the Rumbach Street Synagogue in Budapest. This place is unique in my heart because it’s where my parents were married during World War II. Being in that space, filled with personal and communal history, was incredibly moving.

The synagogue itself was a marvel—its walls steeped in history, yet echoing with the voices of the present. I wanted to capture the essence of the convention, so I hired a local cameraman to document the event. It was a chance to listen to incredible cantors like Benny Meisels, Deborah Katcko-Grey, and Leah Frey Rabiner and reconnect with my family’s roots. With my cousins, I explored Budapest and delved into our shared history, making this trip about more than just music—it was a journey into my family’s past.

Standing in the synagogue where my parents once stood, under the same ceiling that had witnessed so much joy and sorrow, I felt a deep connection to them and the generations before them. These interviews and experiences are the foundation of a documentary I’m working on about the convention. The event was filled with meaningful discussions and beautiful music; I can’t wait to share that with others.

Miracle 5: Rediscovering Our Family Heritage in Hungary

I also travelled with Rachel, Tehila, her daughter, and Effy Fadida from Israel to the ancestral lands of our Hungarian Jewish forefathers. We visited places like Tokay, Szabolcs, Kereztur, and Debrecen, guided by locals who helped us understand our family’s deep connections to these places.

In Kereztur, we paid our respects at the resting place of Reb Shiele, a revered Hassidic Rebbe, and shared kosher meals that felt like a bridge to our ancestors. The air was thick with the scent of traditional Hungarian dishes, and as we sat together, the conversation flowed easily, filled with stories of the past and dreams for the future. It was a profound experience to be in these places that still hold the echoes of our past, connecting us to a legacy of faith and community.

Our time in Tokay and Debrecen was extraordinary. Visiting the Rebbe’s resting place at night felt almost surreal—a moment of quiet reflection after a day of exploring our roots. The stillness of the night, punctuated only by the rustling of leaves and the distant sound of a river, created an atmosphere of reverence and peace. In Debrecen, we connected with relatives who survived the horrors of the Shoah, their resilience a powerful reminder of the strength of our people. The experience was even recorded in the Hungarian Jewish Debrecen Community Bulletin, where I translated our visit into English.

Miracle 6: The Resilience of My Christmas Cactus

When I returned to Montreal, I was greeted by a small but significant miracle—my Christmas cactus was in full bloom. It had been cared for by a talented local plant expert while I was away, and seeing those bright blossoms felt like a symbol of hope and resilience. The vibrant pink flowers, standing against the gray of winter, were a reminder that life persists, even in the harshest conditions.

In a world that often feels dark, small lights—whether a blooming plant, a cherished friendship, or a connection to our heritage—remind us of the miracles surrounding us. Like the Maccabees, who overcame great odds, we can find strength and light in the most unexpected places.

As we move through this holiday season, may our homes be filled with peace, joy, and the warmth of these everyday miracles.

Am Yisrael chai—The People of Israel are alive! Am Yisrael thrives! And when Am Yisrael thrives, the world thrives!

Wishing you all a happy and meaningful holiday season.

With warmth,

Abigail