This week in February brings with it a swirl of hearts, flowers, and the unmistakable cultural moment of Valentine’s Day. While it is not a holiday in our Jewish calendar, American Jews have long balanced deep devotion to our tradition with meaningful participation in the broader culture around us. At times, those worlds meet in beautiful and personal ways.
Corporal Stanley Val Goldin, Army Air Corps (now the Air Force), 1944
My own grandfather was born on February 14 and was given the name Stanley Val Goldin by parents who were themselves the children of Orthodox immigrants who arrived in Brooklyn in the late 19th century. Naming him with a nod to Valentine’s Day reflected their pride in becoming American, while their home remained deeply rooted in Jewish life and practice. My Grandpa Stanley Val carried both his Jewish and American identities with grace. He was a lifelong fan of the Brooklyn — and later Los Angeles — Dodgers, served as a navigator in the United States Air Force during World War II, and became a proud synagogue president who devoted much of his adult life to strengthening the Jewish community. His story reminds me that Jewish continuity has never required isolation — it has flourished through thoughtful engagement with the world around us.
Though Valentine’s Day is not ours as a religious observance, Judaism is a tradition saturated with love. The Torah paints an especially moving portrait of partnership in the relationship between Isaac and Rebecca, while the biblical poem Eshet Chayil (Proverbs 31) honors devotion and respect within the home. The V’ahavta prayer we recite daily calls upon us to love God with every fiber of our being: “You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might” (Deuteronomy 6:5). Our tradition also stretches love outward, commanding us to love our neighbor and, even more challengingly, to love the stranger — a reminder that compassion sits at the very core of Jewish living.
And so, during this week when love is so visibly celebrated around us, perhaps it can take shape in small, intentional ways: setting aside distractions to be fully present with a spouse; expressing appreciation for the daily, often unseen ways family members care for one another; offering tenderness or patience during an ordinary moment; reaching out to someone you have been meaning to call but have not yet found the time; writing a note of gratitude to someone who has recently supported or inspired you; or noticing someone in our community who may be feeling alone and making sure they are seen. These quiet acts of devotion and care are often where love is most deeply felt.
May the week ahead inspire us to carry forward a spirit of love that is deeply Jewish, deeply human, and deeply needed.
With loving blessing,
Cantor Emma Lutz