Dear Editor,
This past year, our community walked through fire — literally and figuratively. We watched flames devour homes and memories, mudslides sweep away what people spent years building, and earthquakes shake the ground beneath us. And yet, through all that was lost, something stronger remained: love, courage, and quiet acts of kindness that asked for nothing in return. Some of our own lost everything — and still showed up for others. People gave anonymously, like angels passing through. Essentials arrived at doors. Checks and gift cards made their way to those in need. Strangers became neighbors; neighbors became family. We didn’t just rebuild homes — we restored hope.
Our MJCS members who were affected received care packages, financial support, and, above all, the assurance that they were not alone. Even the 15 workers at Ollo were embraced with generosity. And we didn’t stop with our own. We reached out across faiths and neighborhoods. Through partnerships with local faith leaders, we supported members of Malibu Pacific Church, Malibu Methodist, Saint Aidan’s, and families in the Hand-in-Hand program who lost their homes.
This is what community looks like. This is what it means to do mitzvot — to care for one another, not just within our walls, but across the city we call home.
So yes, we should celebrate. Not just because we’re here tonight, but because we made it here — together. After everything we’ve been through, after the fear, the loss, the long nights and uncertain mornings, we’re standing side by side again. Just being able to gather, to look around and see familiar faces, to feel the warmth of community — that is something sacred. Our new building is rising, yes — but more than that, we are rising. Our spirit never fell. Our hearts stayed open. And through it all, we held one another. So tonight, we don’t just say thank you — we feel it. Deep in our bones, we thank God for carrying us here. And we thank this beautiful MJCS family for being the kind of community that doesn’t just survive … but loves, lifts, and lives with grace.
Since Oct. 7, 2023, the world has felt different. For many of us, the rise in antisemitism hasn’t just been headlines — it’sbeen deeply personal, unsettling, and painful, especially in places we once believed were safe, like our schools and universities. In the face of that fear, our MJCS community has been blessed with something rare: a sense of protection, of support, of being truly seen. THAT peace of mind — something every community deserves — has come, in no small part, thanks to the unwavering care of our local law enforcement.
Two years ago, when the Lost Hills Sheriff’s Department reached out, I didn’t expect to meet someone who would feel like an angel in uniform. But that’s exactly what happened. Capt. Jennifer Seetoo — now Commander Seetoo — did more than introduce herself. She offered her personal cellphone number (who does that anymore?) and, more importantly, she offered her heart. She’s been there — present, responsive, reassuring — every time we needed her.
In Judaism, we speak of angels who walk among us — messengers of light, compassion, and strength. Commander Seetoo is one of them. Not just in title or in duty, but in spirit. She has stood beside our community, quietly and fiercely, with grace and love.
Tonight, we are profoundly honored to welcome her. Commander Seetoo, thank you — for your service, for your courage, and for your unwavering commitment to the safety and dignity of every person in this room.
Please join me in offering our deepest, most heartfelt thanks to Commander Jennifer Seetoo.
Rabbi Cantor Marcelo Gindlin, Malibu Jewish Center & Synagogue