This interview is with Malka Shaw, Psychotherapist at Private Practice.

Malka Shaw, Psychotherapist, Private Practice

Malka, can you tell us a bit about yourself and your background in relation to Jewish culture and traditions?

Yes, I am unique in this way. I have a very strong Jewish background and education. I grew up Conservative, went to Hebrew school three times a week, and then joined a Reform youth group, NFTY, in high school. At that time in my life, I related very much to the social-action part of the Reform Movement. After college, I spent the next six months in Israel on programs like Livnot and Israelight, learning about more traditional Judaism and spirituality.

It was at this point I became more interested in living a more traditional lifestyle, celebrating Shabbas and kosher dietary laws. I am very much immersed and celebrate all the Jewish holidays, and have chosen to raise my family in a Shabbat-observant home and attend Jewish schools over public schools.

How has your personal journey led you to become an expert in this field?

My personal journey led me to take a sabbatical from work and spend a year in full pursuit of religious study at Shearim Seminary in Jerusalem. This is where it all came to life: learning from the actual ancient texts and the practicality of living the lifestyle. It was an amazing spiritual and intellectual journey for me.

What makes me an expert now is how I integrate Jewish ideology into my clinical practice. Especially after 10/7, I have been able to utilize both knowledge bases to provide critical education on Jewish Cultural Competency for mental health practitioners—in particular, the psychological impact of antisemitism.

You've spoken before about integrating Jewish ideology into therapy. Can you share a specific example of how you've adapted a common therapeutic technique to be more resonant for a Jewish client?

One of the most powerful examples of integrating this work is the GUARD system, a resilience framework for working with clients dealing with active trauma, specifically focused on coping with antisemitism. In this, I draw from a variety of clinical orientations and traditional techniques as we integrate some of the Jewish values and ideology. This allows clients to not only work through the distress but also work toward reframing and shaping their Jewish identity—one that is whole instead of fractured.

For example, the first step in the system is Gratitude. In trauma work, gratitude can sometimes feel dismissive or invalidating if not approached carefully. But, through a Jewish lens, gratitude is not about ignoring suffering; it is about holding both pain and strength in the same hand.

One example is a college student I was working with who was experiencing pain in the isolation of the student groups she was associated with, which started to take an antisemitic slant. Her Jewish identity started to become a source of pain. In order to help her see it as a source of pride, we began by identifying her inner and communal strengths instead of just looking for the positive on campus.

And then, we focused on mindful exercises, integrating them with the tradition of Modi Ani—a simple prayer of gratitude in the morning. So we changed her morning routine to include grounding techniques from EMDR therapy in combination with Modi Ani. This allowed the beginning of the process to shift the narrative and change perspectives.

Many people find strength and resilience in their cultural heritage. What aspects of Jewish culture and history do you think contribute most to fostering resilience within the Jewish community?

Resilience is often misunderstood. It’s not a feeling of strength or ease in the moment; it’s the ability to keep going, even when everything feels hard and uncomfortable. In my work, especially with clients facing anti-Semitism or ongoing trauma, I emphasize that resilience rarely feels good while you’re in it—it often just feels like survival. It’s only later, when we reflect, that we see the strength in what we endured.

Resilience isn’t about “bouncing back” to who we were before—when we go through something hard, we are changed—but we have the choice to let that change lead us to despair or to transform us in a positive way. Jewish history is filled with examples of this; communities facing extinction and erasure often had no choice but to thrive and excel. Across history, Jews have had to persist in uncertainty, leaning on rituals like Shabbat to create stability, and relying on community support to withstand hardship.

That combination—ritual, community, and meaning-making—helps clients not just endure but reclaim their identity as a source of strength. Often, part of the clinical work is helping clients see that their resilience is not only personal, but part of something much larger—woven into their history and community.

What are some common misconceptions or stereotypes about Jewish culture that you often encounter, and how do you address them?

One of the most common misconceptions about Jewish culture—and one I often address in my work and teaching—is the phrase “Chosen People.” It’s a term that’s frequently misunderstood, both by those outside the Jewish community and sometimes within it. People often assume it implies a belief that Jews see themselves as superior or better than others. In reality, the concept is far more nuanced and, in many ways, the opposite of what people think.

When I teach about this, I explain that “chosen” in Judaism is not about privilege; it’s about responsibility. The Jewish understanding is that we were “chosen” to carry the burden of ethical living, to pursue justice, and to repair the world (Tikkun Olam)—even when it’s hard. It’s a calling to hold ourselves to a higher standard, not a guarantee of ease or power. In fact, historically, being “chosen” has often meant being targeted—held to different standards, scapegoated, and persecuted.

I often say to my students: “Chosen doesn’t mean special treatment—it means you’re the one who stays to clean up after the party.” It’s the expectation to lead with values, even when it’s inconvenient or when the world is unjust. That sense of duty, while it can be exhausting, is also what has fueled Jewish resilience and survival. Understanding this can help reframe harmful stereotypes, but it also gives Jewish clients language to understand their own internal drive toward justice, excellence, and endurance as part of something inherited—not just personal pressure.

In a world that can sometimes feel divided, how can understanding and appreciating Jewish culture and traditions contribute to greater interfaith dialogue and tolerance?

Understanding and appreciating Jewish culture is vital for fostering compassionate empathy and advancing interfaith dialogue, but it requires moving beyond a narrow focus on the Holocaust or Jewish suffering. While trauma and antisemitism are important contexts, reducing Jewish identity solely to persecution erases the richness, resilience, and diversity of Jewish life.

In the continuing-education classes I teach for mental health professionals—as well as professionals in fields such as medicine and law—I emphasize that Jewish culture is not just about surviving oppression; it is about contributing, creating, and thriving. Jewish individuals and communities have made profound contributions to fields such as medicine, law, psychology, social work, the arts, and social justice movements, often while navigating exclusion and discrimination.

A key focus of this work is helping professionals recognize that Jewish identity is diverse and multicultural. This diversity is often overlooked, and when we fail to see it, we risk reducing Jewishness to a single story—one that reinforces harmful stereotypes and leaves many feeling unseen. At the same time, we explore antisemitism as a distinct and complex form of hate, which often operates differently from other forms of discrimination. It is insidious because it shifts—sometimes portraying Jews as vulnerable scapegoats, other times as powerful manipulators—and this duality creates a particular kind of psychological distress for clients.

When that distress is dismissed or misunderstood, it can further alienate people and erode their sense of safety. I also emphasize that this is not just about knowledge; it is an ethical obligation under the professional codes of conduct that guide our work. As therapists, doctors, lawyers, and helping professionals, we are called to honor people’s lived experiences and identities. When we dismiss or challenge someone’s self-definition—whether we intend to or not—we risk invalidating their reality, which can deepen trauma.

In clinical work, I see the harm this can cause when Jewish clients share their fears about antisemitism, only to be told they are overreacting. This is not cultural humility; it is a boundary violation. Ultimately, these classes are about teaching professionals how to do better—not just for Jewish clients, but for all clients from marginalized backgrounds. When we understand that identity validation is a core part of healing.

For those interested in learning more about Judaism, what resources or approaches would you recommend?

Chabad.org and Aish.com

What advice would you give to someone who wants to connect more deeply with their own Jewish heritage, but may not know where to start?

All you have to do is be brave enough to make that first phone call. We are a large family—a peoplehood. There are so many people and organizations out there just waiting for your call and the honor to invite you to their Shabbat table.

Looking towards the future, what are your hopes for the future of Jewish culture and its impact on the world?

More importantly than my role as a therapist, I am a Jewish mother—not just for my children, but for the next generation to live in a world without experiencing the pain of anti-Semitism, the pain of a world divided, and a world of judgment. I hope all of our children can grow up in a more open world and be tolerant of diversity. I want to see a world where Jews of all religious levels can embrace their identity with pride, confidence, and joy.

Most importantly, the Jewish community must come together and be united. Like all families, we have our differences, but I hope that we forge a future full of love and acceptance—a world where anti-Semitism is no longer tolerated or minimized. I envision a world where Jewish cultural contributions are celebrated—not just in the context of suffering or survival, but for the creativity, ethical leadership, and community strength they have brought to every society they’ve been part of.