On a Monday morning, in a banquet hall in Jerusalem’s Givat Shaul neighborhood, numerous 12-year-old girls took the stage. From 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., at the Gutnick Halls of Colel Chabad on Beit Hadfus Street, they celebrated their bat mitzvah, not just as a personal milestone but as part of a quieter, more complex story shared by everyone present.
Held annually on 22 Shevat, Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka Schneerson’s yahrzeit and wife of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, this event is organized by Colel Chabad, Israel’s oldest continuously operating charity.
It unites mothers and daughters from all over the country, all of whom carry a common absence: the girls have lost their fathers. “We do this every single year,” said Rebbi Zalman Duchman, one of the event organizers, two days after the event. “The goal is not just to help them survive but to thrive.” This year’s bat mitzvah was partially underwritten by an anonymous donor who never celebrated one herself, in partnership with the Fuchs family from Sou Paulo, Brazil in honor of their daughter's Bat Mitzvah. For her, organizers said, supporting the day was a form of personal tikkun. In a world driven by urgent appeals and breaking headlines, the work here moves slowly, day by day and year by year.
The bat mitzvah celebration is part of a larger educational effort that Colel Chabad started nearly 30 years ago. As time went by, staff observed that orphaned children, were falling through the gaps of the school system, and the organization responded by creating a long-term support network: private tutors, extracurricular activities, mentoring, and guidance focused on a simple goal: helping each child finish high school and take the next step, whether that’s exams, yeshiva study, national service, or joining the army. “Once they finish and move forward,” Zalman explained, “they’re already on the right path."
The number of graduates has now increased into the thousands. Early participants include adults with their own families, since October 7, however, the scope of loss has expanded again. Several alumni have fallen in the ongoing war, leaving behind young children, sometimes creating second-generation fatherless families, Against that backdrop, the bat mitzvah event holds layered significance.
A day to remember
The day began with a warm reception and a lavish sweets bar, as the girls and their families arrived and took in the atmosphere. One by one, the bat mitzvah girls stepped into a studio setup for professional portraits, later bound into personalized albums they would take home. Rabbi Yoav Akrish offered words of Torah and blessing, and singer Shari Greenbaum led the music and dancing, drawing the girls onto the floor and into the celebration.
The girls participated in a culinary workshop called “My Patisserie,” where they performed the mitzvah of separating challah and braided dough together. A joyful seudat mitzvah followed, along with a workshop and stand-up performance by Michal Levitin. Each girl received a gift, and the day ended with a joint trip to Rachel’s Tomb.
Each girl is given space to feel unique while being part of a group that instinctively understands what it means to carry loss quietly. “Girls especially try to hide it,” Zalman said, “They don’t want it to stand out.” Laughter and dancing create an unspoken recognition: here, no one needs to pretend.
The same applies to mothers. For many widows, the gathering provides a rare space where no explanations or backstories are necessary. As the war’s intensity lessens, a recent widow told organizers that the country seems to be moving on. “The whole of Israel was in tension,” she said, “Now the world is progressing, and we’re left behind.” Her neighbors’ husbands have returned from reserve duty; hers has not.
This sense of being left behind underpins Colel Chabad’s long-term approach. They usually do not approach families immediately after a death; instead, they wait 60 to 90 days, gentle and mostly through word of mouth. The program’s “ambassadors” are widows within the circle, quietly inviting others to meetings and support groups.
“We want to be able to tell a widow holding a baby,” Zalman said, “We’ll be with you until you marry this child off.” For a few hours in that Jerusalem hall, the girls were defined not by absence but by presence, by a milestone reached, a community formed, and the fragile but stubborn belief that continuity, even in the wake of trauma, can still be celebrated.
Written in collaboration with Colel Chabad