“Friends.” Often, the most superficial of words. A mere acquaintance is turned into a friend. Not only that, we all have so many friends, right? The superficial use of “friend” degrades a beautiful relationship.

I never thought I would put a positive spin on the superficial use of “friend,” but in a certain sense I do have many friends. I hardly know them. My interaction with them is usually for 15 to 60 seconds. Rarely, I meet one of these friends more than once, perhaps once every few weeks, not more, and even then, I meet them each time for not more than a minute — two minutes at most. Yet on some level, these are my friends.

Like this: In Denver, as I am sure is the case in countless American cities, people populate the corners of busy intersections. You know the signs they hold up, usually in crude lettering on old cardboard: “Anything helps.” “Disabled vet.” “Homeless with child.” The more cars that pass by, the better the chance of these people receiving a handout — law of averages. I know the Denver corners pretty well by now. I have noticed that as I drive along and a neighborhood becomes more upscale, the corners become empty. But the corners in downtown Denver can always be counted on, so to speak.

I notice these people. I try to notice them as more than objects at a street corner. I figure that if people have to stand outside (or sit on a crude carton) for hours each day, they deserve to be noticed. So I carry around small food packages in my car. Plastic bottles of flavored water (or, in the summer heat, cooled bottled water). Sometimes also small clothing items, like gloves or a knitted winter hat. It’s tricky: If I get to the corner when the light is red, I can easily hand off the items through the window. Sometimes, I might not be at the corner but the light has just turned green and I’m still at three miles per hour, so I can still safely hand food through the window.

I never give money; who knows what it might go for. But I figure, everyone can use food.

It’s more than food, which, to be frank, isn’t much. I don’t just hand the food. I ask the person’s name. I introduce myself as “Rabbi Goldberg.” Often, I shake hands. There isn’t always time for this, but most of the time there is. Here is where the friendship comes in. Very brief though they are, my interactions with the homeless are more than a handout.

When I ask someone his name (it’s usually, but not always, a male), often there is this surprised look. Often there is a gorgeous smile. An anonymous “homeless person” becomes a beautiful human being. I see a person standing in front of me, not a “case,” not an “addict,” not a ne’er-do-well. But a person. As I say, the interaction is very brief, but it’s a human interaction.

Why do I do this?

First, here is why I don’t do it.

I don’t do it to make a good name for the Jewish People. I do introduce myself as “Rabbi Goldberg,” and if the recipient thinks the better of Jews — if I’ve made a “kiddush Hashem” — so much the better. But this is not my motivation. Also, I’ve lived long enough in the Western US to know that not everyone knows what a rabbi is, anyway.

I don’t carry around and distribute food because I think it’s going to satisfy someone’s hunger that day. I know I’m giving a little. But it’s something — especially the cool water in the hot summer. And as Jewish law states, the impoverished should seek many small donations rather than be supported by one big benefactor. It’s clear: Although most cars drive right past these homeless people — hundreds and hundreds drive right past them — some do stop. There are little donations that add up, though probably not enough.

I don’t think I’m solving the homeless problem, even in a little way. I have no illusions about making a dent in a complicated, recalcitrant, socially damning problem, or even in one person’s life; nor do I have reason to feel any less disturbed by the desolation of these people living on the streets. Yes, most appear to be desolate. In Denver, anyway, there are rarely crowds on any given corner. Usually, one or two people.

Why do I do this?

First of all, I learn something. I learn not to judge. Take Pete. He is one of the few people I see with some regularity. The last time I saw him and asked him how he was doing, he said that he was doing well. He had been trying to get in shape and had been up the Colorado mountains, working, doing some painting.

Okay, so here’s the first assumption many people make. These people with the cardboard signs don’t really need help. They’re sponging off undeserved sympathy. Why is Pete seeking help on a street corner if he can work?

But Pete keeps talking. He says, “It’s been 22 months since my back surgery, and finally all of the bones have come into place, except for one, and I can do some work.”

So much for unworthy judgments about unnecessary sponging.

Why do I do this? We live in a society in which human relationships are radically minimized. We have coworkers, and most of us have family and “friends,” but for most of us, the great bulk of our human interactions do not enable the development of real friendship.

“Transactional” is the word these days; we do what needs to get done. That’s how we usually relate to the person at the grocery counter, the salesman in the store, the person next to me on the bus or the subway, the doorman, often even the fellow worker — all these people I see, in many cases every day; at best, I give and receive at best a nod, a “hello,” a “how are you.” Not to mention the faceless operator — if there is even that — at the other end of my computer order. There is little humanity in all this; there is little humanity in many of our lives.

Why do I hand out little food packets to the homeless? I want to humanize myself and, in an admittedly brief way, I want to humanize them. I want to step out of the sterility much of our civilization has become.

Rav Yisrael Salanter (d. 1883) founded a mussar movement to instruct us to treat others well. The first step is not to pass them by. On the basis of people I am not passing by who hand me a brief “thank you” or “G-d bless you” or a wide smile, I am a little bit more human. I need that. They need that. Superficial, yes; but against whizzing by in my car, never stopping, never noticing, never asking for a name, not superficial at all. —

This column will appear once a month.

Rabbi Hillel Goldberg is the editor and publisher of the Intermountain Jewish News, for which he has written a weekly column, “View from Denver,” since 1972, and the author of numerous seforim about the mussar movement and other subjects.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1043)

The post My Homeless Friends first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

ON the fifth night of Chanukah, photographer Avraham Elbaz arrived at the Flatbush home of Rav Zevi Trenk, the menahel at Yeshiva Darchei Torah in Far Rockaway, New York. Elbaz was hoping to get a shot of Rabbi Trenk as he kindled the menorah lights, but as he alighted from his car, he was in for a surprise — the ebullient Rabbi Trenk was standing outside of his house with a broom and shovel in hand.

Upon seeing Elbaz’s confusion, he explained: ‘They call me the rabbi on the block,” he said, “and I simply have to keep the front of my home clean.”

In fact, Rabbi Trenk’s house isn’t just “the Rabbi’s home.” His home has become a celebrated bastion of hachnassas orchim, a place where the front door barely closes and guests are welcomed in for a warm meal and a listening ear. Rabbi Trenk understood that people recognized the house as his home, and felt it was important that the sidewalk’s appearance reflects its occupant. True to form, he went about cleaning it by himself.

“This photo is even more important than the hadlakah photo,” he boomed to Elbaz. “This can teach anyone who sees it what it means that a Jew should keep the front of his home clean to make a kiddush Hashem!”

Happening in... Dallas

Last Sunday, the Dallas community united in a remarkable display of kavod haTorah, welcoming Rav Malkiel Kotler, rosh yeshivah of Beth Medrash Govoha. The occasion was a celebration of the kollel’s remarkable growth over the past few years, marked by the addition of multiple new families, including four families who settled in neighboring Plano, Texas.

A large crowd greeted Rav Malkiel at the airport and escorted him to the kollel, where he delivered a shiur on hilchos Chanukah to a packed beis medrash. As he stood at the shtender, his eyes swept across the audience. But before launching into his prepared shiur, he paused for a moment, and then shared an anecdote about his grandfather, Rav Aharon Kotler ztz”l.

“Sixty-five years ago, a menahel of a school in Texas came to the Zeide,” he said. “He asked the Zeide, ‘What should be our focus? That the talmidim should be shomrei Shabbos? That they shouldn’t marry out of the faith?’ ”

But Rav Aharon shook his head, objecting to both of those goals.

“The Zeide said, ‘Your focus should be that the talmidim should become Rav Akiva Eigers!’ ”

Rav Malkiel’s eyes remained fixed on the audience for another moment, and he gave a slight nod.

The Zeide was right.

Texas would yet be home to a generation of bnei Torah who would aspire to become the next Rav Akiva Eigers.

Overheard

“Today there is a popular song with the lyrics Hashem loves us, and everything will be fine, and even better, and even better. So we’re all fine with the words — this is what you want from Hashem. But what does Hashem want from us?

“Let’s see that you should always love Hashem — and that the love should increase from you to Him v’od yoter tov, v’od yoter tov — even more and even more.”

—Rav Shaul Alter

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1043)

The post The Moment: Issue 1043 first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

“Yaakov said to Pharaoh, ‘The days of the years of my life are one hundred thirty. The years of my life have been few and hard, and did not reach my forefathers’ lifetimes in the days of their sojourning.’ ” (Bereishis 47:9)

P

haraoh asks Yaakov, “How old are you?” Yaakov responds, “I am one hundred thirty, but my days have been difficult.”

The Ramban explains that Pharaoh was curious because Yaakov appeared much older. Still, why does this seeming idle exchange appear in the Torah? What lesson are we supposed to learn? (Rabbi Mendel Kaufman)

Several months ago, I was flying to the States to visit my mother. It was with trepidation that I approached my upcoming flight. The war was still going strong, with Iran adding its voice to the whine of the air raid sirens. What a time to travel!

As we pulled up to the airport, I was surprised to see many people unloading their luggage and heading inside. El Al was the only airline flying; were all these people on my flight?

Inside the airport, while it wasn’t crowded, it was business as usual. Stores were opened, people were sipping coffee at the cafés, and it was clear that the average Israeli wasn’t going to let any war stand in the way of his travel plans.

Pharaoh’s question was really touching upon an issue that would challenge the Jewish People throughout the centuries. Pharaoh said to Yaakov, “You’re an old man and have come to Mitzrayim with your entire family. It’s most likely you’ll die here. Do you think that after you’re gone your family will still want to return to Canaan, once they’ve settled and assimilated into Egyptian culture?”

Yaakov responded, “I appear much older than my actual age because of the travails I suffered in the Land of Canaan. And my years of travail in Canaan didn’t even reach the number of years my forefathers suffered in Canaan. Still, don’t expect my children, grandchildren, or any of my descendants to ever forget their Land. We have suffered over it, yet we’ll never forsake it. We’ve left now for famine, but this is a temporary situation. No matter how long we’ll remain in Egypt, we’ll eventually return to our land.”

But it was on my return flight home that I really got a shock. Waiting at the gate in Newark, I scanned my fellow travelers, hoping they were all safe people, that we would make it home without cancellations, rerouting, or delays. (As my anxiety proved clearly, I lacked some sabra genes.) To my right, was a family with six little kids, all cheerfully gearing up for the flight.

“Are you going to Israel for a family simchah?” I asked.

“Nope,” said a nine-year-old with a twinkle in his eyes. “We’re going to live there!” And all his siblings burst out cheering.

I turned to the parents, “You’re making aliyah?”

“Yep!” they answered. “We didn’t even want to wait for the group flight this summer. We want to live in Israel now.”

So it’s been throughout the ages. The Jewish People have endured suffering in exile or prospered in exile, but have never forgotten their Holy Land. Even today, as our Land suffers murderous hostilities, we, both those within and outside Eretz Yisrael, pray and wait for the ultimate redemption, when the Holy Land Hashem promised us will welcome us all.

Seeing their buoyant spirits, I couldn’t help but wonder. Didn’t they watch the news? Don’t they know at least one Israeli family who would have described to them what it’s like to wake up in the middle of the night to sirens, not knowing where the missiles will fall?

I couldn’t help myself. “Aren’t you scared to be coming now?”

“Don’t you live there now?” countered the father.

“Yes, but I have my life there—”

“We also want our life there. If you can do it, so can we. We want to be part of the Jewish nation, standing on our Holy Land, during this time of war.”

A thought crossed my mind and I wondered how many Ukrainians were running back home to stand with their compatriots. Russians? Were Ethiopians, Sudanese, or Nigerians flying across the world to join in the fray that rocks their homeland?

You may disagree with this family’s decision, argue that it’s not safe or that it’s not the right time for you, but you can’t argue that the link is there — Yidden want to be there for other Yidden.

So, to my new olim friends, I wish you a yishuv tov. Let me know if you need anything. Because I’m here for you as you’re here for us.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 925)

The post Parshas Vayigash: Home Is Where the Heart Is first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

“Say that this is why Moish Garfinkel went into hiding.” Penina drums her fingers against her keyboard, contemplating the screen. “He was a criminal and got caught. It’s not unheard of in the frum community.”

“For a millionaire? Sure. For a security guard? Not a lot of white-collar crime there.” Hillel leans back against the cubicle wall.

Thursday is an in-office day, when most of the remote workers are expected to be present and there are tedious team meetings and occasional trainings. Daniel has an extended weekend off for President’s Day, so she had to bring him in today. There are a dozen reasons why today was never going to be a productive day.

And that’s why she’s here mulling over the Garfinkel mystery instead of attempting to get any work done. “Stealing a medal from Town Hall doesn’t really scream ‘white-collar crime’ to me. And what’s the get? They didn’t display it or sell it. They just stuck it in a drawer somewhere. It’s like—” She presses her lips together, considering the situation. “It’s like they did it just to see if they could.”

“We see that all the time,” offers Warner, the coworker in the next cubicle. Today, with so many people around, she can’t keep her theories private. Fortunately, Warner lives an hour away, in Staten Island, and Penina isn’t concerned that he might spread the information around Lenape Falls. “People start small, just for the thrill of it. Then they escalate. If your guy was stealing mementos from Town Hall, he wouldn’t stop there.”

Hillel, as always, looks enthused at the idea of more drama. “Unless he was drafted into some secret government program. Maybe that’s why he had to change his name.”

“Maybe.” Penina is unconvinced. “But why would the CIA or the FBI have him assume his best friend’s identity? Wouldn’t it be easier to give him an entirely new one? They do it all the time.”

“Unless it wasn’t the American government,” Martin suggests, sidling up to Hillel. He perks up when he sees Daniel sitting on the floor, the theory forgotten. “There’s our little man! We have some snacks for you in the office kitchen. From the kosher stock,” he assures Penina, and Daniel leaves his coloring behind to bound after Martin.

The post Lie of the Land: Chapter 29    first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Photos: Flash 90

I

t’s the right-wing camp’s big moment, but the government it elected isn’t feeling it. The more the right’s ideology takes hold in the Israeli public, the further the governing coalition members drift apart.

Not even the hilltop youth of Yitzhar dreamed of such an outcome one year ago. Gaza is occupied, ground under the boots of Israeli troops; the Philadelphi Route has been paved with a new two-way road; and the sea of Gaza is a mikveh for dati-leumi soldiers stationed in the Strip.

In the north, IDF nomenclature no longer labels the summit of Mount Hermon as “the Syrian Hermon.” Its new Jewish name, adopted by the entire government, is Keter haHermon, “the crown of the Hermon.”

And those aren’t the only borders that have been redrawn. Opinion polls show that the Israeli public has shifted massively to the right since October 7, 2023. As with the Syrian Hermon, it’s hard to imagine a return to the past.

And on top of all that, Israel can look forward to Trump’s return to the Oval Office on January 20, 2025, leading a team whose right-wing credentials put the Likud to shame.

True, the war isn’t over. The drip-drip of ballistic missiles and the ever-growing list of Israel’s fallen are proof of that. But looking at the big picture, Israel’s regional and global standing has never been better under a narrow right-wing government.

But it’s precisely now that the right-wing government seems intent on tearing itself apart. While the draft issue is an inherently intractable problem, it hardly ends there. Justice Minister Yariv Levin is fighting to revive the judicial reform in wartime, slamming the door behind him as he leaves meetings with coalition heads after they refuse to cooperate.

National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir revolts and votes against the state budget, in what can only be interpreted as a vote of no confidence in the government. And that’s without even mentioning the threats of right-wing ministers to torpedo a hostage deal involving the release of terrorists. The more the public unites around the right, the more divided its representatives in the Knesset become.

The man of the new year in Israeli politics is Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich, who was able to pass a state budget filled with austerity measures in a time of war.

Despite leading the ultra-right-wing Religious Zionist Party, and despite the fact that his party is slipping below the electoral threshold in some opinion polls, Smotrich is taking a decidedly responsible and un-populist tone, in both the political and international arenas. Smotrich believes that voters will come to appreciate his unpopular decisions, but only time — and the electorate — will tell.

At a meeting of coalition heads, it was Smotrich, not the chareidim, who recommended against dismissing Attorney General Gali Baharav-Miara, warning overeager colleagues, especially the justice minister, that the move would fall in the High Court.

The finance minister also wants to delay the proposals to change the judicial selection process, and instead take the time to do it right. Today, Smotrich is perhaps the only minister in the government whose position on a wide range of issues is impossible to know in advance. Between Knesset votes in the plenum on the state budget, I sat down for a special interview with Bezalel Smotrich.

The Hostage Deal

Let’s start with the hostage deal taking shape. You’re serving under a prime minister who had your back during the passing of the state budget. Why don’t you have his back in the diplomatic arena? If Netanyahu is pushing for a deal now, with the incoming Trump administration vowing heavy retribution if Hamas doesn’t release the hostages, then he must have good reason to believe that it’s the right time for a deal. Give him some credit.

It’s not about credit. I give him plenty of credit, and I have a lot of respect for him. But we’re allowed to disagree, and my principled position is that our current approach to Hamas is a big mistake. Hamas is at its lowest point since the beginning of the war, as a result of the military and civilian pressure, the diplomatic isolation, and its fear of Trump, who will come in on January 20 and give us a lot of support.

You can’t wait for a new opportunity every time, and the number of surviving hostages is shrinking. It’s precisely now, between the two administrations, that we have to make a deal.

On the contrary. With Hamas on the verge of total collapse, now’s the time to force a surrender deal in which we get back all the hostages, not to extend Hamas a lifeline with a deal that stops the war in return for some of the hostages. Definitely not a deal in which we squander many of our military achievements, for which we paid a heavy price in blood. If I had my way, we wouldn’t be negotiating with Hamas at all. Our only contact with them would be through the sights of our brave soldiers’ tanks, planes, and artillery.

But we tried that already, and while we made significant achievements on both the northern and southern fronts, we’ve only been able to return a few of the hostages that way.

No. I say quite the opposite. We’ve been negotiating with Hamas the entire time, and that’s why we’ve been unable to bring back the hostages. If we said that there’s no negotiating and there’s no Hamas — that in our view, Hamas is an organization destined for destruction, not dialogue — then it’s very possible that Gazans holding the hostages would return them to us in return for financial rewards and safety guarantees for themselves and their families. We can’t expect to break their fear of Hamas even as we ourselves negotiate with it. The two are mutually exclusive.

Helping Gaza

As finance minister, you know better than anyone that the humanitarian aid is Hamas’s financial lifeline. How is it possible that for more than a year, you’re continuing to funnel humanitarian aid that is effectively fuel and oxygen for Hamas?

For a long period, former defense minister Yoav Gallant and the upper echelons of the IDF torpedoed alternative proposals for distributing the aid. Current defense minister Yisrael Katz took office, and he believes in the path I proposed. Still, I have to say that I feel that the army is dragging its feet on this matter. It’s not okay, and it’s not acceptable.

So what you’re essentially saying here is that despite the fact that there’s a defense minister who’s demanding that the army carry out the government’s position, the IDF under Chief of Staff Herzi Halevi is conducting its own policy?

This is a very problematic gray area. It’s not that they’re refusing orders, but they’re absolutely dragging their feet. In my view, this should have been solved many months ago, but certainly over a month after the prime minister, the defense minister, and myself attended a meeting at Gaza Division headquarters. We dealt with the matter in detail, a clear directive was given, and sadly, the matter continues to drag on. The solution is around the corner, and I hope it will happen in the coming weeks.

You initially opposed the previous hostage deal, but at the end of the process, you went into the cabinet meeting and voted in favor. Should your opposition be taken with a grain of salt this time too?

You’re right, and I’m proud of my ability to change my opinion. Only a donkey never changes its mind. We went into the meeting — what was important to us then was to ensure that the war would continue. There was a pause of just seven days; the IDF didn’t leave the strip. We were satisfied with the answers we received, we got the commitment to continue the war into the government decision, so we voted in favor. I’m very happy to be a part of returning some of the hostages — each one of them is an entire world.

What’s so different about the current deal from the previous one that leads you to reject it up front?

Then, we didn’t release hundreds of murderers with blood on their hands who will go on to murder more Jews and rebuild Hamas’s leadership. Then, the IDF didn’t pull back from the Gaza Strip. Then, we didn’t squander massive achievements — the fact that northern Gaza is becoming a sterile area free of Hamas, finally allowing the emergence of alternative leadership, a pilot for the model we’ll extend to the rest of the strip.

The differences are enormous. I’ll support a deal that doesn’t project weakness and surrender because we all want to return the hostages, but the deal emerging now is not how it’s done.

Squandering Opportunities

You spoke at the meeting of the coalition heads of the need to act wisely and take advantage of the Trump administration for the big things and not petty fights. Do you expect Netanyahu to act to impose sovereignty over Judea and Samaria, an opportunity that was missed in the previous term?

First, I want to state very clearly, this is a historic opportunity. Ahead of us are two years of a right-wing government with a friendly president in the White House. It’s dramatic, it could fortify our security and our existence — b’ezrat Hashem, of course. It’s true with regard to Iran, it’s true with regard to Judea and Samaria. We must take the terrible folly and existential danger of a Palestinian state in the heart of Eretz Yisrael off the agenda.

And of course, we must develop the settlements and apply sovereignty. These are incredible opportunities. But for that, we first need a stable government. Woe to whoever acts irresponsibly and shakes the coalition because of all kinds of fabricated spins. We have to preserve this government. We can do historic things.

You’re speaking in generalities, but let’s get into the details. We’re all witness to the endless internal squabbles, especially the big feud between yourself and Itamar Ben-Gvir, your fellow national religious political leader, who ran with you in the last elections but is now going for your head, portraying you as having surrendered to the attorney general’s dictates.

It’s sad. There are those who are always in an election campaign, and there are those who came to work and deliver results. Look, we would all like to fire the attorney general. We have no confidence in her, and apparently, she has no confidence in us. She’s blocking our every move and she must be replaced — there’s no dispute about that, and this was agreed upon at the government meeting we all participated in.

I just don’t understand why Ben-Gvir felt the need to contaminate the process and make it political. After all, it’s clear that if we’d surrendered to his dictates, and tied the passing of the budget to the attorney general’s dismissal, the High Court would have struck it down that very moment.

Maybe Ben-Gvir, unlike you, feels the rope around his neck. After all, the attorney general plans to write an opinion regarding the High Court petition to remove him from office. And when it comes to this, I want to ask: If the High Court adopts such a position by the attorney general and rules that Ben Gvir is ineligible to serve as a minister, would you call on the prime minister and your fellow coalition leaders to not comply with the High Court’s instruction?

That is absolutely my view. With all due respect, we have a democracy. You don’t oust a prime minister through legal proceedings, and you don’t oust a minister because of a petition or an attorney general’s opinion. It’s absurd. This is something that’s flagrantly illegal, and none of us will defend such a decision, neither by the attorney general nor by the High Court. If that’s the position the attorney general presents, we’ll of course demand private representation and make the opposing case.

And yes, I think we also have to tell the High Court: We won’t uphold this. With all due respect, we have a democracy, and in the last election, the right-wing government was elected to lead, not the High Court.

The Budget Battle

Let’s talk about the budget. You managed to get it through the plenum, but it’s fared less well in the court of public opinion. Of course the war has to be funded, but the public sees the wave of price increases, sees the spending cuts, and feels that this is coming at its expense.

The cost of living has been the biggest challenge in the State of Israel for years. It’s not new. If we want to analyze it — it’s mainly because we have a very small, monopolistic, and uncompetitive market. Over the years, there have been a lot of regulations ostensibly designed to protect the public, but which in reality protect all kinds of stakeholders and big monopolies that control the market. And there are no magic solutions other than competition, competition, competition.

But meanwhile, the only competition the average citizen sees is between chains racing to raise prices higher. What’s being done about that?

We’ve passed the “what’s good for Europe is good for Israel” reform [aimed at aligning Israel’s import standards with Europe’s, thereby cutting down on red tape], and it will take time for that to trickle down. We’ve prohibited brands from merging so that monopolies don’t emerge, and we’ve passed a series of measures.

We’re seeing now how analysts are surprised by how well the Israeli economy is performing, after over a year of war on several fronts. All of Am Yisrael has had to stretch, but we tried to make the wartime austerity measures we had to take as reasonable and balanced as possible, and distribute the pain across different segments of the population in a progressive structure — the higher your tax bracket, the more you contribute. There are areas where we increased spending, such as welfare payments to vulnerable populations. I think that under the circumstances, it’s definitely a balanced and reasonable approach.

Lowering the Flames

Before the war, you could have been described as the leader of the national-religious movement, which is the closest thing to the chareidi Torah world. Today, we all hear the voices from within the national religious community. The pain is real and sharp, with the discourse driven by mothers who can’t sleep at night and family members who have accompanied relatives to their final resting place. But a big part of it is about politics, an attempt to drive a wedge between the two sectors. How do you, as chair of Religious Zionism, ensure that the political alliance between the chareidi sector and the national-religious sector continues after the war? Or do you think that here too, we’ll end up saying, “The experiment failed”?

Of course the connection will continue. And it’s not just political, but a human connection. It’s true that we have hashkafic and ideological disagreements, but the draft issue is of vital and existential importance to Am Yisrael. And you’re right, there are cynical actors — the high-tech protest movement, the Kaplanists [the Tel Aviv Motzaei Shabbos protestors], Bennett, and others — who are trying to drive in a wedge and use the draft issue to topple the government, and we can’t be stupid and play into their hands.

But you’re right, a lot of the outcry comes from a place of genuine pain, both from the burden and from the heavy price. I lost a dear cousin in the war, and precisely because we’re all Torah learners, it hurts us. And again, these are hashkafic differences, and the Torah is full of disagreements. I’m not trying to convince you that I’m right, and that’s why we’re currently advancing a legislative proposal, along with the prime minister, the new defense minister, and chareidi representatives, that will change the reality and be done through consensus. I think we all understand the need and importance, and I believe we’ll be able to find the right legislative model.

Your words come from the heart, but that’s the exception and not the rule. We see the tiny number of chareidim reporting to the draft office and we can understand that this just won’t happen with divisive discourse, full of hatred and contempt for Torah learners. How does one lower the flames between the sectors?

Here I want to appeal to everyone — to my sector, which is hurting, and to the chareidi sector, which I’m sure is also hurting and feels attacked, and to the yeshivah bochurim who are truly the jewel in the crown and are being turned into criminals without legal status. We’re all hurting, but let’s take a deep breath and work from our heads. Pain isn’t actionable, and anger and distress aren’t a plan. Here, it’s our job as public representatives to be able to take a deep breath and search for reasoned solutions that are both the best for us as a nation and will keep the national camp together. As I said, we have two years of an historic opportunity ahead of us, and it’s incumbent on us to display responsibility.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1043)

The post Face to Face with Bezalel Smotrich  first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

I

magine reaching the age of 75, and your life’s work still lies ahead of you. That’s the strange position that Israel’s forever leader now occupies as Iran’s proxies fall and the decades-long conflict comes to a crisis point.

Three years ago, during his brief sojourn in the opposition, Netanyahu published his autobiography, titled Bibi: My Story. What a tale it told: a gripping account of his high-achieving youth in Israel and America, service in the vaunted Sayeret Matkal unit, UN ambassadorship, 1996 election as the country’s youngest ever prime minister, 1999 downfall, triumphant 2009 return and 12 years at the helm until being toppled again in 2021.

The crisp prose conveys the governing philosophy, media savvy, and political wiles that have made Bibi one of the world’s leading statesmen. Over 650 pages, Netanyahu made a compelling case that his own visionary leadership was the crucial factor in the bid to leverage Israeli innovation and hard power to make peace with Arab states. He set out the central place that Iran occupies in his thinking, and recounted how he combined covert action against Tehran’s nuclear program with diplomatic moves to isolate the Iranian regime.

The last page contained a postscript noting that Bibi had won reelection. Rather like Marlboro Man riding off into the sunset, it seemed that the rest was a question of time. Under Mr. Security, Israel was set for prosperity and Middle East peace with the Saudi accession to the Abraham Accords.

Then came Simchas Torah 5784. The Hamas pogrom made two things clear: Israel was in the fight of its life against Iran, and Bibi’s legacy was in tatters.

Regardless of the fact that an entire generation of Israeli generals had failed, it was Bibi’s security concept that was proven illusory. Only by Divine grace did Israel escape a cataclysmic simultaneous invasion by Hamas and Hezbollah. “Mr. Security” — Netanyahu’s old campaign title — seemed a thing of the past.

From that point on, the multifront war that Bibi leads has doubled as a battle to restore his reputation. The bravery and self-sacrifice of Israel’s soldiers have been blessed with tremendous Heavenly assistance, with stunning results. Hamas is reduced to a guerilla force, Hezbollah’s leaders killed or maimed, Syria removed from Iran’s orbit, and Tehran itself stripped of its defenses.

It’s a mark of Israel’s restored deterrence that friend and foe have adopted a new tone lately. President Trump — no fan of a loser — has grown markedly warmer to Bibi and Israel in general as the IDF’s battlefield successes have mounted. Even the Al-Qaeda alums now at the controls in Damascus are making noises about peace amid a recognition that Israel has roared back.

But it’s delusional to think that the clock has been reset to October 6 for Israel, and Bibi personally. That’s because a twin dynamic is forcing a showdown: Netanyahu’s rehabilitation and legacy depend on defeating Iran, and Iran in turn feels cornered.

Grievously weakened, and shorn of its most powerful proxies, the Iranians are growing desperate. The ring of fire strategy to surround Israel with a forest of missiles has failed. Beirut lies in ruins while Tel Aviv stands. The billions invested over decades are gone, and when its last proxy — the Houthis — are defanged, Tehran will be faced by a choice: sue for peace, or try to guarantee the regime’s survival by reaching for the nuclear option.

The breakout time to a nuclear weapon is now measured in weeks and depends solely on Khamenei’s order. What stands in the Ayatollah’s way? The knowledge that a dash for the bomb would trigger an Israeli strike on the nuclear facilities — and possibly decapitation of the regime itself.

Yet despite that risk, with its regional defense shield now a smoking ruin, alongside its Russian-supplied antiaircraft systems, the Iranian leadership may feel that it’s time to cash in the ultimate insurance policy, in the form of a nuke.

Having based his entire career on denying Tehran that option, Bibi would have no choice but to act to prevent that happening. A record of economic prosperity and defeating Hezbollah and Hamas would count for naught if Iran became a nuclear power. The stain of October 7 would pale into insignificance compared to that catastrophic event.

Thus it’s decision time on both sides — the denouement of a decades-old face-off.

Does Israel have what it takes to knock out the nuclear program? Given the Israeli Air Force’s lack of heavy bombers and bunker-busting capacity, there have long been doubts about whether it could do the job.

It’s always possible that Israel has a plan to use brain, not brawn, when knocking out the Iranian nuclear program. For the effectiveness of intel-driven operations, think back to the Stuxnet computer virus of 2010 or the recent beeper operation that took out Hezbollah. Who knows? Centrifuges might mysteriously go berserk across Iran once again, or some bunkers might miraculously collapse.

Surely, though, Bibi and Ron Dermer will be putting the case to Donald Trump that with the hard work of degrading Iran’s defenses already done, the time is now right to unleash American air power to obliterate Iran’s sprawling nuclear industry.

Trump aims never to start a war, but he’d delight in finishing one — and he’s already demonstrated a willingness to deploy short, sharp jabs of maximum force in pursuit of a limited goal. What a deterrent signal it would send to Russia and China if Trump resumed office by deploying an aerial armada to remove the Iranian menace.

We’re not privy to the secrets of Divine Hashgachah, but the startling gains made by Israeli arms since the beginning of the war represent a turnaround from the hester panim evident on October 7. Will Tehran’s defeat be the next stage in the Heavenly show that has played out for 15 months?

With the Iranians weaker than ever, and his own legacy on the line, Bibi will remember what he said back in 2009 when a new nuclear development facility was revealed beneath a mountain in Qom, central Iran.

In a briefing to a group of senators, he quoted Hillel Hazaken: “If not now,” he told the influential politicians, “then when?”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1043)

The post If Not Now  first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Photos: Yossi Goldberger

When the Copper Box Arena in London was built for the 2012 Olympic Games, planners probably never imagined that it would play host to 10,000 lomdei Torah for a single event. Said planners might also have failed to appreciate the historic resonance of a massive pre-Chanukah celebration of Torah learning in a venue that featured a symbol of ancient Greece. But to the participants in Dirshu’s grand siyum on Maseches Shabbos in their Amud Yomi program two weeks ago, that resonance would have been obvious from the second chapter of the masechta, which deals with Chanukah.

History aside, the event was noteworthy for drawing together Dirshu attendees from all over Europe, and from all streams. Mainland Europe is very different from Britain, but contingents from Antwerp and Zurich indicated that in terms of Torah life, there’s a Europe-wide Torah world that shares a common language.

One participant was Avi Steinhart from a chassidic family, who learned in Brisk, and has since gravitated back to his roots due to the giant Torah organization.

“I’m a chassid of Dirshu,” he says with a smile. “My father, who was a Pshevorsker, would be very happy with this.”

Avi learned Dirshu Chaburas HaShas, a special track for kollel yungeleit, and then integrated into the Amud Yomi program when it began a bit more than a year ago.

“Daf Yomi effected a revolution in Am Yisrael, but I personally never connected to it,” he says. “The urgency and the rigid pace is something I struggle with. I felt like they were learning just to finish. There are some who love it, but I want to learn in order to understand, and only then to be mesayeim.

“There’s a phrase that Dirshu nasi Rav Dovid Hofstedter repeats all the time — yedias haTorah, knowing the Torah. The limud is important, but each person needs to ask himself honestly if he knows the Torah.

The orchestra begins to thunder in the hall, and Avi’s 15-year-old son, who is also part of a Dirshu track, urges him to come inside.

There, Rav Shimon Galai — who has traveled to London for just a few hours and will be flying right back to Bnei Brak for the shloshim of his son-in-law, Rav Dovid Wertheimer — takes a moment to speak with Mishpacha.

“Dirshu is the neshamah of Am Yisrael,” he says in the rabbanim’s room. “There are organizations for everything. You need a pillow for a bris? You have one. You need kimcha d’Pischa? You have it. But there is one organization in the world that does everything to enable you to get to Shamayim after 120 years with baskets full of spiritual wealth, and that is Dirshu. Therefore, I make a great effort to go where they call me.”

Maariv begins and thousands stand up to daven. Then the massive orchestra cues up a majestic march, and the rabbanim ascend the stage. This type of mass Torah spectacle has practically been trademarked by the organization, but its origins are not well known.

The concept behind these high-end events was born from a meeting 15 years ago between Rabbi Dovid Hofstedter and Rav Aharon Leib Steinman ztz”l. It was shortly before the Siyum HaShas, and Rabbi Hofstedter was consulting with Rav Steinman about how much to spend on the event.

“Invest as much as you can,” Rav Steinman told him. “When a wealthy man makes a wedding, he books the best band in the finest hall. And when we want to honor the Torah, we do it in an underground hall, without honor and without grandeur? The Torah is our biggest wedding, and that is where we need to invest the most.”

Rabbi Hofstedter carried out this instruction faithfully, and thus was born the classic Dirshu feel which the London siyum adhered to, featuring such well-known performers as Motty Steinmetz, Baruch Levine, Hershy Weinberger, and Zanvil Weinberger, alongside legendary conductor Mona Rosenblum, along with the Malchus Choir and a 30-piece orchestra.

The production team also went local, with a beautiful medley of Yigal Calek classics, a tribute to the recently-niftar composer who uplifted so many worldwide. As a continent-wide celebration of simchas haTorah deep in the European winter, the event left a glow in hearts from Gateshead to Manchester, Stamford Hill, and Antwerp to sustain them through the next leg of the long journey through Shas.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1043)

The post Light in London first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

MY rebbi, the rosh yeshivah of Yeshiva Chofetz Chaim, Rav Henoch Leibowitz ztz”l, had a famous saying that I heard from him often over the years. He would quote a famous general who said that he wanted to leave This World “with his boots on.”

Like the general, who expressed his hope to continue fighting until his last moment, the Rosh Yeshivah would often say that he wanted to be able to continue being marbitz Torah and teaching his talmidim until his very last day.  My father ztz”l, his talmid and assistant for more then 60 years, developed the same mindset as well. This attitude of pushing through until one’s very last breath is something I saw displayed by many of the gedolim I interacted with over the years.

One prime example is the incredible perseverance and inner strength exhibited by the rosh yeshivah Rav Chaim Pinchas Scheinberg ztz”l who lived until past the age of 100 and continued exerting himself for Torah until his last breath. He traveled across the ocean multiple times a year on behalf of the yeshivah, while never missing tefillah at a neitz minyan and never changing any of his hanhagos and personal chumras until his last day. I was zocheh to host the Rosh Yeshivah multiple times in my home for a week at a time and was always amazed at his incredible stamina despite him being close to a century old.

Reb Yussie and Ruchie Stern also hosted the Rosh Yeshivah in their Edison, NJ home many times, and Reb Yussie, who was very close to the Rosh Yeshivah, shared with me an incredible story. On one of his last trips, when the Rosh Yeshivah was already over 90 years old, his son noticed that his father’s passport needed to be renewed before leaving back to Eretz Yisrael.

They went to a nearby office and the woman behind the desk asked Reb Yussie if the rabbi would like a two-year renewal or a ten-year renewal. He responded that a two-year renewal would be sufficient.

But when the Rosh Yeshivah heard about the conversation, he told Yussie to please go back and request the ten-year renewal.

The Rosh Yeshivah, who was already over 90 years old, envisioned coming back to America to fundraise for his yeshivah for another ten years.

Whenever I’m asked to participate in yet another  community project that I feel is beyond my kochos, I think of Rav Scheinberg at that passport office, and of my rebbi with his incredibly warm smile and twinkle in his eye, saying, “ I want to go with my boots on.” And I feel renewed strength.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1043)

The post With His Boots On   first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

The Best Thing [The Conversation Continues / Issue 924]

I was in seminary this past year, and yes, I was (and still am) in therapy. After discussing it at length with my parents, I made the decision to write on my applications that this was the case and that I was taking antidepressants.

Only one of the three seminaries I applied to brought it up at my interview. None rejected me because of it (I know this because a close relative of mine who teaches in the sems I applied to had access to this info).

I want to emphasize this to girls who will apply next year: Be honest. I know, your worst fear is rejection. But here is the reality: If you’re truly mentally ready for a year abroad without your comforts and familiar surroundings, your rejection will mean that this wasn’t the place for you. Imagine how they would deal with you having a flare-up in Israel! And if you aren’t mentally ready but want to go just to fit in with the rest of the crowd, getting rejected may be the best thing that ever happened to you (and the girls you might have gone with).

In my apartment alone, two girls walked around like zombies all year, suffering with acute depression that for reasons beyond their control was not being properly treated. They suffered tremendously from their year abroad, and it set them both back. It affected the rest of the girls, spreading a dark cloud of gloom above us all, and creating unhealthy relationship bonds with other girls. I can’t say I wish they had been honest on their application, because they hadn’t been to therapy despite their obvious challenges, and theirs would have looked like anybody else’s: the application of a “healthy” (insert healthy dose of cynicism) girl.

Answering no to the therapy question on an application is not a blanket rule that the person is mentally fit for seminary. But being honest if you have gone is imperative to finding the best seminary for you. And if I could tell the principals of these institutions one thing, I would say: Going to therapy is one of the bravest and most selfless things a person can do. Rejecting someone just because of it is wrong, but accepting someone just because they haven’t gone could be catastrophic.

Wishing everybody in this parshah lots of hatzlachah.

A (Normal) Post-seminary Girl Who Happens to Be in Therapy

Why the Disparity? [The Conversation Continues / Issue 924]

I have six sons and one daughter.

I just finished the application process for seminary and yes, on all of the applications, my daughter needed to answer some sort of therapy-related question. My sons, who have been to a range of yeshivos, have never had this question asked of them.

Aside from all other issues that you brought up, I wonder about this disparity.

Is there some level of respect and dignity that yeshivos accord bochurim that our girls’ schools can learn from?

Is there a widespread recklessness in yeshivos? If so, why are we not hearing about this?

Are there more mental health issues in the frum world among girls than boys? This isn’t true in the secular world at all… and I highly doubt it.

Can someone explain this phenomenon?

Name Withheld

In Shidduchim, Too [The Conversation Continues / Issue 924]

I was a bit surprised and confused when last week there was some strong pushback on not teaching your children to lie. While I understand that from a chinuch perspective, when you look at the shidduch system (which comes right after seminary and is often linked together), you’re often pushed to lie. They tell you all kinds of things not to say; for example, I know someone who’s adopted and was told not to mention it. I know many people who went off a little bit or were rebellious as a teenager and they’re told to keep that quiet, because they’re all afraid of the big no.

Maybe that’s why we have a crisis. It’s not about the seminary you go to or random facts about your family (divorce, death, sicknesses) that should matter. It’s the kind of middos you have. While some things do matter, of course, I think if we put less pressure on providing the perfect answers, there would be no need to lie. Girls wouldn’t be afraid, not just about getting rejected by seminary but also about getting rejected in shidduchim.

A Newly Married Who Feels Bad for Her Friends Stuck in the Crisis

It’s Treatable [Inbox/ Issue 923]

As someone with extensive experience in treating hirsutism and PCOS, perhaps it is in place for a weigh-in from a professional. Among other treatments, I do lots and lots of laser hair removal, as well as lots and lots of electrolysis. There’s no universal approach to hair removal. Factors such as age, hormonal conditions, skin type, hair type, and genetics all play a significant role in determining the most effective treatment method and outcome. Many patients might not realize the diversity in laser technology but should be aware that if the treated hair isn’t shedding completely within two weeks, the chosen treatment or device may not be the best match.

What struck me is that the writer said that laser treatments didn’t work for her. That is unfortunate as, if the treatment is right, the patient absolutely will lose their hair between treatments, and if timed right, a three-day Yom Tov poses no problem. In close to 20 years, I’ve never come across hair that I wasn’t able to treat in this way. In this day and age, with such advanced treatment available, no person should suffer the embarrassment of hirsutism. I hope she quickly finds the correct treatment for herself.

Y. Sugarwhite

London

Not a Viable Solution [Inbox / Issue 923]

I’m writing in response to the letter writer who wrote about Spironolactone for hirsutism. The reason why people don’t really know about it or use it much is because it’s considered unsafe for pregnancy, so for many frum women, it’s not a viable solution. I do electrolysis every two weeks to keep it somewhat under control. But yes, we can definitely all relate to that feeling of being disgusted in your own skin and not being able to do anything about it. If anyone wants to invest their time to come up with a cure for this there will be many happy women out there!

Name Withheld

Chaya Was My Shaliach [Fed Up with Feeding / Issue 923]

Your article on feeding therapy was extremely informative. Chaya Rosmarin, who you interviewed, is a leading expert in feeding issues. When my very petite daughter couldn’t crawl or move at over a year old even after many months of physical therapy, Chaya was the shaliach who helped me navigate the process. She ultimately sent us to an ENT, and after removing the baby’s adenoids, we started to see a light at the end of the tunnel and my baby started to crawl almost immediately. As the ENT explained to me, when adenoids are so enlarged (they were blocking 85 percent of my daughter’s airway) the child uses all of his/her energy to just breathe and has no more energy for eating or reaching milestones. It did take several years and various therapies to get her fully caught up, but baruch Hashem, today my daughter is a regular healthy kindergartner, and we’re so grateful. There can be so many causes and Chaya is really the expert at getting to the bottom of it. Thank you for exploring this all-too-common issue.

A Lakewood Mother

My Sister Rena [Pearls of Wisdom / Issue 923]

It was a surprise to see my sister, Rena Baron a”h, mentioned in your series on Eishes Chayil. Rena embodied both aspects of the pasuk “vatakam b’od lailah” that Mrs. Hochheimer described. She was a hands-on mother who prioritized her children and never considered any part of mothering to be mundane or unimportant. She also reflected the ruchniyus side of the pasuk as she embodied emunah and bitachon throughout her entire cancer journey, leaving her family with a legacy of faith. Mrs. Hochheimer mentioned that I shared insights I learned along with Rena about guiding our children to grow through grief and loss with bitachon. I want to let your readers know that you can find more about these resources through Mishpacha. I hope they may bring hope and comfort to others dealing with difficult circumstances.

May we soon merit true nechamah and the ultimate Geulah.

Rebecca Masinter

We Must Not Sell Out Our Integrity [Even When It Hurts / Issue 923]

I was shocked at the lack of integrity portrayed as a normal situation in “Renovations Disaster.” That story didn’t address — but unquestionably should have made clear — that it wasn’t okay for a frum contractor to bribe customers with a hefty discount as an inducement for touting his services. And it certainly wasn’t okay for those frum customers to eagerly accept the contractor’s bribe and, without a sound experiential basis, tell everyone they knew (and even people they didn’t know) that he should be hired.

The FTC’s truth in advertising rules reflect that even in the secular world, undisclosed paid endorsements smack of deception and are improper. Such endorsements surely have no place in our world, where “midvar sheker tirchak” is a guiding business principle.

When we receive recommendations — especially from friends and family, who presumably are looking out for our interests — we should be able to trust that the recommendations reflect their honest judgment, based on experience, about the skill level and work ethic of the persons they hired. But the matter-of-fact way in which the discount/recommendation deal was depicted in “Renovations Disaster” strongly suggests that such trust may be misplaced. There is something very wrong with that suggestion. Not just wrong… appalling.

H. Kober

Baltimore, MD

Home Is Where Happy Children Play [Beacon of Light / Issue 922]

I was so saddened to read of the petirah of Rebbetzin Batya Barg a”h, truly the “last car on the train” of the Meislik family. Like the author of the article, my high school also based our production on her life story (Voices in the Silence, Bais Yaakov Toronto, 1995). As a girl, I was incredibly inspired by the Meisliks’ commitment to Yiddishkeit both before and after the Holocaust and their perseverance despite all they endured.

Several years ago, my high school class had a reunion. One of the things I mentioned when I spoke at the reunion was how a particular quote from that 11th-grade production still resonates with me all these years later. The line, delivered when Batya and her parents walk back into their now-empty apartment after the end of World War II, follows Batya telling her mother, “Mamma, we’re finally home!”

“Home?” says Rebbetzin Meislik. “This is not home. Home is where my happy children run and play….”

Having tragically lost all her children but Batya in the Holocaust, she remembered her home filled with laughter and love and children, rather than the empty shell of rooms it now was. I spoke of how that line in particular resonated with me and reminded me to be extra and constantly grateful for the brachos we have as mothers, raising children in today’s times, and to embrace every moment and every bit of noise and shefa and brachah, which of course we do, but this serves as an extra reminder of those who came before us and what was lost as we strive to build our homes in current times.

Yehi zichram baruch.

Chana (Weinstock) Neuberger

We’re Not Alone [Windows / Issue 922]

From beginning to end, Esther Shemtov’s No Good Very Bad Date was so relatable and accurate. I laughed at every sentence and also deeply resonated with this girl’s pain.

I really related to the end, when she was talking about how all the people in her life were putting pressure on her to do hishtadlus for shidduchim and it didn’t sit right with her. She wrote, “My mother wants me to go to another meet the shadchan... My sister thinks I should edit my bio... My coworker wants to set me up with all the wrong people... My nieces and nephews are starting to ask uncomfortable questions... Strangers at simchahs ask for my Tehillim name... my dating coach says I need to remind shadchanim I exist...”

I’m learning from being in shidduchim to take the advice, but in the end to trust myself to know what is best for me to do, because I’m the one who lives my life and therefore knows what I need best.

This was my favorite line: “Nice normal guys want to date my friends and my neighbors and my sisters. Not me. Apparently not even blockheads want to date me.” This statement exactly describes my experience in shidduchim, and I loved it so much because I think a lot of us feel that we’re alone in this; but really the reality for girls in shidduchim is that “apparently not even blockheads want to date me,” and it’s so nice to know that it’s not just me who feels this way.

Anonymous

Toronto, Canada

CORRECTIONS

The Words Unspoken, “To My 12-Year-Old Son,” Issue 921, was written by Hally Goldstein.

The article “Downtime” in A Better You, Issue 923, was written by Shoshana Schwartz, not Abby Delouya. We regret the error.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 925)

The post Family First Inbox: Issue 925 first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

One Thursday afternoon in November, Malka’s* mother asked her to please make the chicken for Shabbos. Being a typical 16-year-old, Malka asked if she really had to do it that minute. “I think it would be a good idea to get it done now,” her mother replied. Malka made the chicken and went about her night as usual. In the wee hours of Friday morning, the phone rang — she had a new baby sister!

“We were so excited,” says Malka. “Because we were three girls and then three boys, I was thrilled to have a new baby sister.”

Malka got to enjoy her new baby sister, Avigayil*, for her whole junior and senior year of high school before she went to seminary and then to New York for college.

“I was two when Malka left home and four when she got married,” shares Avigayil, now in her thirties. She doesn’t have memories of Malka from that time, and only knows her wedding from pictures, but she does have a distinct memory of getting her first nephew. “I brought him in for show-and-tell when Malka came for Shabbos!” Avigayil says.

Being a teen and having a new baby could be a great opportunity to play house, like it was for Racheli*, who was a senior in high school when her sister Hindy* was born. “Babies add so much joy to a household,” she says. Racheli had her driver’s license and would take her baby sister out places, even taking a six-hour road trip, just her and Hindy, to visit their grandparents. “I took her out to an event myself and she spit up all over me!” Racheli remembered fondly. “It was very special to have a new sibling when I was old enough to take care of her.”

It was a short-lived stage, since Racheli was just finishing high school, and was soon off to seminary and shortly after that, started her own family in a different city. “That was so hard,” she says. “I missed Hindy’s cutest years.”

When Chany found out her mother was having twins, she was, to put it mildly, less than thrilled. “I was in eleventh grade and doing my own thing with my own friends. None of my classmates’ mothers were having babies. We were beyond that. I wasn’t interested,” she says.

The twins, Leah and Shlomo, are now in seventh grade. They were four when Chany got married. “I don’t remember Chany when she was in the house,” says Leah. “I do have a few memories of her, but the rest are when she’s out of the house.”

“We really didn’t have much to do with each other,” adds Chany. “A year or two ago, Leah and Shlomo had a birthday party and one of the games was, ‘Who knows more facts about the twins?’ I got every single question wrong. I don’t think there was one that I got right. It was embarrassing!”

“There were only two options for answers!” Leah exclaims with a smile.

“Yeah, there were only two options and I still got them all wrong!” confirms Chany.

The post Mind the Gap first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.