I almost did not go. It was a hard time, and the last thing I wanted was to walk into a correctional facility and try to bring someone else joy when I had so little of my own.
My brother changed my mind. He was serving, and when I called to tell him I was thinking of skipping the Sukkot program at Rikers, he was quiet for a moment. Then he said: this is exactly what you should do. He explained how these mitzvot had carried him through his own hard weeks. Go be the feet of those who cannot.
So I went. The program featured davening, music, food, and entertainment — and somewhere in the middle of it, something shifted. The Mincha service was a highlight I had not expected: a full afternoon prayer, led by participants, inside a prison.
But it was the dancing I will remember. I danced that day — for Israel, for my brother, for everyone in that room who needed someone to show up and move their feet. I committed to being exactly that.
I am grateful to the organizers, the musicians, the entertainers, and the correctional staff who made it possible. I went to give something. I came home with more than I brought.
