The Broken Pot: Navigating Loss and Modeling Resilience for Our Children

This week, the heartbreaking news of a young American-Israeli hostage’s death reverberated through my community. Each day, new cracks appear in the fragile pot of this war, adding layers of grief and uncertainty. Alongside this heartbreak is the rising tide of antisemitism, which adds its own weight of fear and pain.

Loss is a part of life, but how we model navigating it is what shapes our children’s ability to face it. Right now, it feels like we’re piecing together a pot that keeps breaking in new places. The cracks are everywhere, but they are not the end of the story.

In the Japanese art of kintsugi, broken pottery is repaired with gold, highlighting the cracks rather than hiding them. The philosophy behind it teaches us that the scars of something broken are part of its history and can make it even more beautiful. As parents and educators, we are often the ones holding the pot together, showing our children that even when life feels shattered, it can still hold something meaningful.

First, We Acknowledge the Brokenness

It’s okay—necessary, even—to let our children see us grieve. When we cry or express sadness over the news, we’re modeling something essential: emotions are valid, and feeling them fully is part of healing. We can say to our kids, “I’m sad because I heard some very hard news today,” or, “It hurts to know that people are in pain.” These simple statements give them permission to feel their own emotions and normalize the idea that sadness isn’t something to avoid—it’s something to honor.

In kintsugi, the first step is to recognize the cracks. We must see the damage clearly before we can begin to repair it. In Jewish tradition, Kohelet Rabbah (Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:1) teaches, “When one member of a group suffers, all should feel the pain.” Acknowledging our grief openly—whether through words, tears, or silence—is a communal and sacred act.

By creating space for these moments, we teach our children that mourning is not a sign of weakness; it is an act of love. When we allow them to see us cry or share our sadness, we model what it means to sit with difficult emotions and come through them stronger.

Second, We Teach Them to Honor the Cracks

Loss leaves a mark—it always does. But that doesn’t mean we crumble. Instead, we teach our children that even in the face of brokenness, we can honor what remains and use it to create something meaningful.

I was reminded of this when I worked with a middle schooler grieving the loss of a beloved grandparent. Together, we talked about how she could express her feelings creatively—writing a poem, making a collage, or baking cookies using her grandparent’s recipe. When she delivered those cookies to neighbors with a note saying, “These were my grandparent’s favorite—sharing them keeps their memory alive,” she was participating in the sacred act of tikkun olam—repairing the world through kindness.

I also attended the shiva for this young boy, and it was a profound reminder of how communities rally together to hold one another in times of grief. Hundreds of people, including students from a dozen Jewish day schools, came to pay their respects. The room was filled with quiet tears, shared memories, and the strength of a community determined to honor his life. It was a living example of how we honor the cracks—by showing up, by bearing witness, and by standing together in the face of loss.

At almost every youth event in our community, we incorporate a moment of collective care. At one recent gathering, a group of children worked together to pack care packages for families displaced by conflict in Israel. As they carefully filled the boxes with supplies, one child remarked, “This feels like we’re sending a hug to someone who needs it.” That simple act of empathy turned an ordinary moment into something extraordinary.

These small rituals remind us that light can exist in the darkness and that we are not powerless in the face of loss. They show our children that even brokenness has a place in the larger story of creation.

In Jewish tradition, we learn from Pirkei Avot (2:8) that “the righteous are remembered by their deeds.” Honoring the cracks doesn’t mean covering them up; it means finding ways to turn them into something life-giving.

When we honor the cracks, we also begin to see the beauty within them.

Finally, We Point Out the Gold

Even in the most challenging times, there is a glimmer of light. It might not be immediately visible, but it’s there. We can model for our children the importance of looking for moments of resilience and beauty. This could be the strength of a community rallying together, a family making time to comfort one another, or simply the warmth of a hug at the end of a hard day.

Sometimes, the gold is found in the unexpected wisdom of our children. Recently, my son came home wearing a small strip of tape pinned to his shirt. On it was the number of days the hostages in Gaza have been missing. I asked him, “Why do you take it?”

“It makes me feel calm,” he said. “Because even though they’re not home, they’re with me, so they’re not alone.”

When I hugged him, I realized that even in his small, quiet way, he was teaching me about resilience. His act of holding the hostages in his heart reminded me that hope isn’t always loud—it’s often found in the quiet, deliberate ways we carry each other through the cracks.

Children remind us that sometimes, even the simplest acts of care—like wearing a strip of tape—can hold profound meaning and teach us lessons we didn’t know we needed.

It also brought to mind the Talmudic teaching: “Even when the sword rests upon your neck, do not despair” (Berakhot 10a). The cracks of loss are always present, but so too is the human capacity to carry hope alongside them.

Gold might also look like a neighbor dropping off a meal for a grieving family, a group of children singing a song together that lifts everyone’s spirits, or the simple act of saying a prayer with someone who needs comfort. It’s in the little gestures that remind us we’re not alone.

The cracks in our lives and our communities will always be there. They are part of the story. But with intention and care, we can fill them with gold—through acts of love, remembrance, and resilience.

Every act of care, no matter how small, is a brushstroke of gold. Together, we can teach our children—and ourselves—that brokenness is not the end of the story.

This week, let us not only hold our broken pots together but invite others into the process. By sharing care, resilience, and hope, we show our children—and ourselves—that even in brokenness, we can build a more connected, compassionate world.

• How might you help your children understand that sadness and hope can coexist?

• What small but meaningful act of kindness could your family do to honor those who are grieving?

• Where in your life or community do you see cracks—and how might you begin to fill them with gold?

• What have your children taught you about resilience and finding hope in hard times?