I am grateful to the Philadelphia  Inquirer for publishing this tribute.

If you have lost a loved one, do you ever feel a painful aching loss, not physical, but strongly there? In Jewish tradition, when a family member dies, friends visit to support and comfort the bereaved in a ritual known as shiva. This aching loss was my experience at the shiva held at the home of Phyllis W. Beck, the trailblazing first female member of the Pennsylvania Superior Court who died on March 3. There were countless shared personal experiences, including how Judge Beck offered wise counsel on professional direction, ever supporting successes. My heart seemed to weep, as myriad kindnesses to me flooded my memory. This included how she—somehow, someway—always found what I wrote, regardless of how little known its publishing source, and contacted me with sensitive endorsement.

As shiva progressed, I recalled that during my bat mitzvah year, our Baltimore congregation’s beloved rabbi, Uri Miller, discussed a little-known interpretation of the ritual with our class: Those we love do not realize their soul and spirit have left a body that no longer can serve them. Experiencing loved ones who speak about them, but not to them, informs them their lives on earth are over, and frees their soul and spirit to move onward. It seemed Beck, highly uncomfortable with praise, was with us in spirit and able to endure a full evening of expressed love.

As time passed, I felt as if an apartment were being created inside of me, where she brought her coffee and addictive creamer, cherished photographs, an array of takeout menus for long future dinners, and a birthday cake with the right number of candles. Beck was always 49. My pain eased. For I understood: Death does not end cherished relationships. They continue, even more precious.

SaraKay Smullens
Philadelphia

In these dangerous, draining times, you may find the evidence-based self-protection measures offered for social work and mental health colleagues helpful. We must do all possible to remain strong together.

Read the full commentary on socialworker.com

by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, DCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD

First and foremost, happy Social Work Month! We are each deeply fortunate to be part of our proud and historic profession. Our profession is one that asks a great deal of us and often has been labeled as “an impossible” one. A key reason is the resources necessary for our clients are rarely available to the extent they are needed, and far too often those in positions of power are highly insensitive to their importance for a healthy society,

For these reasons, societal burnout permeates, exacerbating other forms of burnout originating from work stress and those that may also exist in our personal relationships. Signs of overload we experience express themselves physically through exhaustion, as well as illness.

To alleviate this overload, through the years, I’ve researched key ways to provide relief in preserving and protecting strength, leading to more productive and attuned relationships with our clients. One direction of study relates specifically to our Social Work Month theme this year—Compassion and Action—where findings point to the relationship between compassion, empathy, and action. Before my investigation, I saw the concepts of empathy and compassion as one in the same. However, research led to understanding key differences, ones that understanding can help us to preserve energy…

March 28, 2025: I am grateful that The Philadelphia Inquirer posted the following letter today.

To the Editor:

When my 6-year-old granddaughter was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes, making her dependent on injected insulin to live, the singer-songwriter Nick Jonas, who also has Type 1, became her hero. If he could handle this evil disease, she figured, so could she. Two years later, she testified before the Food and Drug Administration about the necessity of research into creating an artificial pancreas to save the lives of children, and quoted a line from one of Jonas’ songs, “A Little Bit Longer”: You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. Shortly after, the FDA stepped up its work to develop a system to automatically supply insulin to the body. Today, facing devastating and haphazard cuts, it probably could not.

Surely, most people who support our 47th president do not do so with the intention of injuring vulnerable children or adults in crisis. They support him because he has skillfully convinced them he cares about them. Surely also, the ultimate threat of isolating us from our allies while praising despots has not sunk in. Supporters don’t yet realize that they, too — that all of us — are in grave danger because Donald Trump’s ultimate dream is to divide the world with the tyrants he respects and wishes to emulate.

History validates that a nation’s power begins to unravel as leaders encourage a violation of the boundaries of decency, and when concern for the well-being of others is ignored. Let’s fight Trump with a passionate defense of truth — in every possible way. In addition to our courts, each member of Congress who cherishes America’s founding principles must call town halls to motivate purposeful choices for action and involvement. Outreach to the White House and Republican elected officials must unceasingly convey that we are not afraid — that we refuse to be cowed, fooled, or pitted against each other. Because, as my granddaughter warned: You don’t know what you have till it’s gone.

Sarakay Smullens, Philadelphia Inquirer