“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.

MYonly encounter with Jimmy Carter occurred in June 1976, just two days before New Jersey’s Democratic primary. By then, Carter had established a commanding lead in the delegate count.

Carter spoke at my old yeshivah high school, JEC in Elizabeth, New Jersey. Our rosh yeshivah, Rav Pinchas Teitz ztz”l, introduced him onstage in the yeshivah’s gym, where three years earlier I would have been playing basketball.

When Carter finished, the crowd gathered around him to shake hands. Carter flashed his trademark toothy smile, appearing friendly. I remember looking into his eyes, which weren’t smiling, and whose steel-blue color revealed more about his personality than his facial expression. While I don’t recall the content of his speech, I must have been impressed. I was finally old enough to vote in 1976 when Carter ran against President Gerald Ford. I do remember pasting a Carter-Mondale bumper sticker on my car and voting for them.

Over the years, other commentators have pointed out the apparent contradiction in Carter’s countenance, which, in a sense, personified his presidency. His cold, calculating style enabled his most significant accomplishment — brokering the 1978 Camp David peace treaty between Israel and Egypt — while his inner struggle to project warmth and empathy led Americans to turn their backs on him.

Carter passed away on Sunday at age 100, after spending much of his last two years in hospice care. His wife of 77 years, Rosalyn, passed away last year at age 96.

The Miller Center, a project at the University of Virginia that provides an in-depth analysis of all US presidents, summarizes Carter’s presidency as follows: “Jimmy Carter’s one-term presidency is remembered for the events that overwhelmed it — inflation, the energy crisis, the war in Afghanistan, and hostages in Iran. After one term in office, voters strongly rejected Jimmy Carter’s honest but gloomy outlook in favor of Ronald Reagan’s telegenic optimism.

“In the past two decades, however, there has been a broader recognition that Carter, despite a lack of experience, confronted several significant problems with steadiness, courage, and idealism. Along with his predecessor, Gerald Ford, Carter deserves credit for restoring balance to the constitutional system after the excesses of the Johnson and Nixon ‘imperial presidency.’ ”

The analysis is fair and balanced. However, Carter’s idealism, especially his wholesale application of human rights as the litmus test for US foreign policy ultimately weakened America. When widespread protests in Iran erupted against the authoritarian and often brutal rule of the Shah of Iran, who nonetheless was an ally of both the US and Israel, Carter pulled his support, forcing the Shah to flee. Carter passively acquiesced as radical Muslims seized power in Iran. The mullahs paid Carter back by seizing 52 American hostages at the US embassy in Tehran, holding them captive for 444 days before releasing them the day Carter left office.

Accusations Against Israel

Carter’s idealism also benefited the Jews, with his support for freedom for Soviet Jewry being another check mark on his plus side.

In the spring 2019 edition of the Jewish Review of Books, Elliot Abrams, a foreign policy advisor to Presidents Reagan and George W. Bush, cited a memoir by Carter aide Stuart Eizenstat that detailed a meeting Carter held in 1977 with Soviet foreign minister Andrei Gromyko. The KGB had just arrested the Soviet Jewish “refusenik” Anatoly Sharansky and charged him with spying for America.

Carter raised Sharansky’s case with Gromyko, who dismissed it as a “microscopic dot” of no importance to anyone. However, the mention must have troubled Gromyko, because after he left the meeting, he turned to Anatoly Dobrynin, Soviet ambassador to the US, and asked: “Who really is Sharansky? Tell me more about him.”

Sharansky languished in prison for nine more years, but the New York Times noted that Soviet Jewish emigration picked up in the middle of Carter’s term. The Soviets granted 29,000 Jews exit visas in 1978 compared to 17,000 in 1977, rising to 51,000 in 1979. The numbers fell to 21,000 in 1980, after Carter imposed a grain embargo on the Soviets following their invasion of Afghanistan.

Carter’s background didn’t naturally lend itself to pro-Jewish tendencies. He attended the Maranatha Baptist Church in his hometown of Plains, Georgia, and taught bible studies in their Sunday school. The church has branches worldwide that recognize the “Hebraic” roots of the Christian church but considers “Jerusalem” as the stumbling block to Arab-Israeli peace, recommends engaging with Islam because of their oil and immigration, and prays for Jews to accept the Christian “messiah.”

The church teachings dripped into Carter’s 1996 book, entitled Palestine: Peace not Apartheid, distorting the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and accusing Israel of being an apartheid state. Rabbi Marvin Hier, founder and dean of the Simon Wiesenthal Center, was outraged. Rabbi Hier had met Carter at a White House ceremony when he presented Wiesenthal with the Congressional Gold Medal, and once the book came out, Rabbi Hier organized a campaign in which some 15,000 Wiesenthal Center members sent letters of protest to Carter’s Atlanta office.

Rabbi Hier said that Carter responded with a curt, handwritten note: “To Rabbi Marvin Hier. I don’t believe that Simon Wiesenthal would have resorted to falsehood and slander to raise funds. Sincerely, Jimmy Carter.”

Rabbi Hier fired back, saying while he doesn’t consider Israel infallible or incapable of errors in judgment, Israel practices self-defense and not apartheid.

A Player Out of Position

Unfortunately, Carter’s apartheid label sticks to Israel to this day, and Carter remained unrepentant.

Ten years ago, at age 90, Carter was interviewed by talk show host Jon Stewart shortly after Islamic terrorists murdered four Jews in a Paris kosher supermarket as part of a revenge attack against a French satirical magazine that ridiculed Islam.

When Stewart asked Carter who was to blame, Carter blamed the victims, not the perpetrators: “Well, one of the origins for it is the Palestinian problem. And this aggravates people who are affiliated in any way with the Arab people who live in the West Bank and Gaza, what they are doing now — what’s being done to them. So I think that’s part of it.”

I once asked Zalman Shoval, a former Israeli ambassador to the US and intimately involved in the Camp David negotiations, to compare the Jimmy Carter he saw, who brokered the Camp David agreements, with the Jimmy Carter who began to express positions blatantly hostile to Israel. What made Carter change?

“I don’t know if he changed,” Shoval said. “I think that Carter deep down had anti-Semitic tendencies, which he tried to put aside.”

It’s not only Jews who didn’t appreciate Carter’s manner of speech. Perhaps his biggest domestic blunder was his 1979 “national malaise” speech. Without using that term, Carter called out Americans for a universal erosion of confidence and self-doubt. Americans want inspiration from their presidents, not mussar, and Carter never reckoned that Americans expected him to show confidence in fighting the spiking oil prices, 15 percent inflation, and the 18 percent interest rates that plagued his term in office.

Ultimately, the Miller Center concluded that Carter was hard-working and conscientious but often seemed like a player out of position.

“There was always, it seemed, something unlucky about him: massive public disaffection with the government, the fires of crisis breaking out at home and abroad, the hostile post-Watergate press, and, by the end of his term, a challenge by a smooth, consummately telegenic challenger [Ronald Reagan] with an engaging new conservative message.”

An Awkward Legacy

By Uri Kaufman

MY grandmother often lamented in her native Yiddish that “the days were long, but the years were short.” The passing of President Jimmy Carter, and the praise heaped upon him for the Camp David Peace Accords, reminded me that people’s memories are often the shortest of all.

In the early days of the Middle East peace process after the 1967 war, the big word was “linkage.” Arab countries refused to even negotiate with Israel, insisting that their dispute with the Jewish state was “linked” to the conflict with the Palestinians; one could not be solved without the other. Since Palestinians refused even to recognize Israel, all diplomacy was a nonstarter.

Anwar Sadat repeated this position in his historic speech to the Knesset in November 1977, saying, “I did not come to you to conclude a separate agreement between Egypt and Israel… It would not be possible to achieve a just and durable peace… in the absence of a just solution to the Palestinian problem.”

Sadat dropped his bombshell four months later, on March 30, 1978, in a meeting with Israeli defense minister Ezer Weizmann. Sadat had no interest in a Palestinian state; he was willing to allow Israeli settlements on the West Bank to remain in place. Weizmann practically fell out of his chair. He later said he was happy Israeli attorney general Aharon Barak was present to hear it, or no one back in Jerusalem would have believed him.

The pathway to peace at last was opened. Except for one major problem: Perhaps Sadat could live without a Palestinian state, but Jimmy Carter could not. He ignored Sadat’s signals and acted like a car out of alignment, constantly swerving off the path into the oncoming traffic of the Palestinian issue.

American diplomat William B. Quandt later wrote that Carter placed himself “in the awkward position of appearing to be more pro-Arab than Sadat, a politically vulnerable position, to say the least.” Being more anti-Israel than an Arab leader is certainly “awkward” for any American president. But for an Arab leader to be less anti-Israel than an American president — well, that’s not just “awkward,” it’s suicidal. On the contrary, Arab leaders need American presidents to give them political cover.

Sadat would get no such cover in Camp David. The talks deadlocked for almost two weeks over the issue of the Palestinians. But Menachem Begin refused to knuckle to Carter’s pressure, and to the astonishment of all, Sadat gave in. His foreign minister angrily resigned. But for Carter, it should have been a moment to savor. He had made history. He had brokered the first Arab-Israeli peace treaty.

Shockingly, amazingly, Carter couldn’t take yes for an answer.

The Camp David Accords, signed on September 17, 1978, were merely a framework agreement. A final peace treaty still had to be hammered out. In the months that followed, Carter never stopped trying to tie everything to a resolution of the Palestinian issue, raising the prominence of the tail until it grew to wag the dog and even threaten to knock it dead.

A stunned New York Times columnist William Safire wrote, “Amazingly, it is not Mr. Sadat who has reintroduced the issue that was successfully finessed at Camp David. The heat to write in the [Palestinians] comes from Mr. Carter, with his born-again ‘comprehensive’ scheme.”

The story has a mostly happy ending. Begin defied Carter, the Palestinian issue was put on ice, and the two parties signed the first Arab-Israeli peace treaty on the White House lawn on March 26, 1979.

I say only mostly, because it was a flawed agreement in one key respect. That flaw was the Jewish settlement of Yamit. The Israelis had built it right where the Sinai Peninsula borders Gaza, in the hope of creating an Israeli-held barrier a few miles wide that would prevent smuggling between the impoverished strip and Sinai. Menachem Begin pleaded with American officials, “emphasizing,” as Jimmy Carter put it in his diary, “that the settlements were important as a buffer between Gaza and Egypt.”

But Carter refused to consider even a land swap, with Israel keeping the Yamit salient sealing off Gaza, while giving Egypt a similar amount of land somewhere else in southern Israel. That blunder casts a shadow over the region to this very day. After Israel withdrew from Gaza in 2005, the Palestinians dug dozens of tunnels into Sinai and smuggled a mountain of weapons inside. We all know what happened after that. Fewer know that after the October 7 attack, Carter condemned Israel and called on the world to recognize Hamas.

This is the legacy of James Earl Carter, 39th president of the United States and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. A commentator remarked on his passing that we are not likely to see another like him. One can only hope that he is correct.

Uri Kaufman is the author of the upcoming American Intifada: How the Left Learned to Hate Israel and Love Hamas (Regnery, 2025).

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1043)

The post The Two Faces of Jimmy Carter  first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Making Place [Perspectives / Issue 1042]

Thank you for publishing Rabbi Bane’s insightful and thought-provoking article, “The Next Frontier in Religious Growth.” Rabbi Bane’s eloquent discussion about the importance of addressing the social and spiritual needs of women in our communities could not have come at a more pivotal time.

Here in Monsey, we have taken a step toward addressing this very need with the creation of The Space, a women’s community center that has been operating for the past ten months. Our mission aligns deeply with Rabbi Bane’s vision: to provide women with a space to connect, learn, and create.

The response to The Space has been overwhelming. Women of all ages and backgrounds have embraced this initiative with enthusiasm and gratitude, recognizing the profound impact it has on their personal growth and, by extension, on their families and community. We’ve seen friendships forged, skills developed, and a renewed sense of belonging.

However, as Rabbi Bane so aptly highlights, the challenges of securing financial support remain significant. Convincing men in the community to view such a center as vital to the spiritual and emotional well-being of their homes has proven to be a delicate but critical conversation. While the value of yeshivos and kollelim is deeply ingrained in our collective consciousness, the importance of spaces for women to thrive must also be understood as fundamental to the success of the home and the continuity of our values.

We thank Rabbi Bane for bringing this issue to the forefront and hope that his words inspire more conversations — and ultimately, action — within our community. With greater awareness and communal support, we can ensure that initiatives like The Space continue to flourish and serve as a cornerstone for the growth of our families and communities.

For more information about The Space, please reach out to us via Mishpacha.

Chani Glick and Yael Kahan

The Space, 526 route 306, Suffern, NY

Calling All Non-Rebbetzins [Perspectives / Issue 1042]

Thank you, Rabbi Bane, for addressing a topic I’ve been soapboxing about for years. Women’s Torah learning and personal growth deserve more attention. Sadly, most women’s learning stops once seminary is over. And while many husbands are supportive of these efforts, others respond with skepticism or even derision. I’ve encountered comments from men ranging from jokes like, “Go bake a cake,” to being called, “Women of the Wall.” It’s clear that finding dedicated spaces for women’s learning remains a challenge.

In shuls, men benefit from an environment that fosters learning, complete with food and an uplifting atmosphere. Women, on the other hand, often have to create these spaces in their homes, balancing learning with their role as the akeres habayis. Yet, as the core of the Jewish home, it’s crucial for women to have opportunities for Torah learning — and for communities to actively encourage and support these efforts.

In my neighborhood, my friend Estee Lavitt and I started a program called Connect to Connect to foster community and Torah learning for women. The program focuses on learning Strive for Truth (Michtav M’Eliyahu) b’chavrusa — whether in person, over the phone, via FaceTime, or whatever works — for 30 minutes a week. My chavrusa and I stay a week ahead of the group and provide guided questions to enhance the learning experience.

Every four to six weeks, we have live get-togethers, offering us a chance to connect as women and discuss aspects of our learning. We’re 21 weeks in, with our fourth meeting coming up, and the impact has been transformative — both in terms of learning and personal growth.

Women! Join us. Find a way to incorporate meaningful learning into your life. It’s life-changing, even if you’re a non-rebbetzin (like me). We can be reached via Mishpacha.

Esther Kurtz, Non-Rebbetzin, Mishpacha columnist

Life Changer [Home Away from Heaven / Issue 1042]

I would like to commend Reb Shmuel Botnick on his recent article on Rabbi Zucker and our shul Kehilla Kedosha Beis Shlomo. It was extraordinarily well written, and considering that he got a very limited glimpse into the day-to-day action of the kehillah, I commend him on his ability to so aptly describe the uniqueness of our rav and kehillah.

That being said, there are so many life-changing moments throughout the year that can’t be given over in the written word (such as Shabbos Mevarchim, the Lag B’omer hadlakah, and the Yamim Noraim davening, to name a few). As Rabbi Zucker often quotes, “ta’amu ure’u ki tov Hashem,” only through experiencing these moments can one fully grasp the unbelievable energy and spiritual force that the shul has.

However, I do want to point out a glaring omission. What I believe is missing from the different accounts in this article is how much the rav and the kehillah have changed the lives of the mispallelim in a real and tangible way.

There are so many past and present mispallelim who can attest to the fact that their relationship with Hashem has been completely transformed. Their understanding of ahavas Yisrael, shalom bayis, chinuch, limud haTorah, dveikus b’Hashem, and how to experience Shabbos and the Yamim Tovim has been completely changed. There are families who have considered moving back to the States but instead made their permanent residence here in Ramat Eshkol, just so that they can continue to draw inspiration and growth from the kehillah, realizing that they would not have anything similar elsewhere.

Alumni of the shul have moved to lead kehillos of their own that are based on the foundation they have received from Rabbi Zucker. On a recent trip to the States, I heard from many of Rabbi Zucker’s students and former mispallelim that they wish they had such a kehillah and are striving to create similar minyanim and shuls in their respective locations.

I daven that Hashem continue to give Rabbi Zucker and all those involved the strength to continue in their tremendous avodas haKodesh, and may we be zocheh to greet the kibbutz galuyos in our shul, bimheirah b’yameinu!

Daniel Green

Make an Exception [Out of Sorts / Double Take — Issue 1042]

The road to Gehinnom, they say, is paved with good intentions. In this story, while the principal probably had the best of intentions: to maintain boundaries between the girls from kollel families who want to limit screen and internet exposure, while also allowing the girls from more modern families to maintain their comfort with technology and internet without feeling stifled.

However, she has taken the theory of the situation — natural separation of the classes will lead away from undue influences and therefore happier clientele — and neglected to actually take a microscope and see that the girls in her class might not necessarily benefit with being lumped with their family status. That’s exactly what happened with Avigail, the girl from a more modern family whose friends were all from the kollel families.

I think Shoshana should have thought about it like this — Avigail and her mother are begging to join the more kollel-minded families. Avigail has friends from these families, friends whose parents can presumably vouch for the fact that Avigail has not only not been influencing their daughters with internet and technology, but has actively been working to wean herself from those influences. The one time to make an exception would be here — let the girl be with her friends and let her strengthen her Yiddishkeit.

In Shoshana’s take she mentions a worst-case fear: that Avigail will end up thinking of her more machmir self as a fad and drift back to what she’s used to. In this case I believe it will be a self-fulfilling prophecy, since she’s going to internalize that her mentors don’t want her to be more machmir, and go back in defeat.

I say to the principal: Make the exception. Let Avigail go join her friends, and let her surprise you by gaining an even closer relationship with her friends, her sense of Yiddishkeit, and Hashem.

Matthew Silkin

Spreading Light [Cut ’n Paste / Issue 1042]

There’s no such thing as a coincidence.

Baruch Hashem I have been zocheh to continue the legacy of our dear father, Reb Gavriel (George) Klein z”l and light the same menorah that he buried in the darkness of the turbulent war years.

Just before lighting Dad’s menorah on Erev Shabbos Chanukah, the news of the petirah of Rav Yosef ben Simcha Lefkowitz z”l made headlines throughout the Jewish world.

Rav Yosef was small in appearance, yet a giant of a man. He was the builder of the Arzei Habirah neighborhood in Jerusalem, a worldwide Jewish educator and so much more.

A Holocaust survivor, he still remembered sitting at the tish of the Kedushas Tzion (the Bobover Rebbe) back in Krakow. His entire family perished and he suffered tremendously at the hands of the Nazis in various death camps.

I had the good fortune to be introduced to Reb Yosef through my daughter, who works at Meor; and Rabbi Naftali Schiff, who runs Jroots, both educational kiruv organizations, where Reb Yosef, who was the epitome of emunah, imbued faith into whoever he came across. He attracted and brought back many hundreds of students to their Jewish roots through his incredible passion and focus.

As I lit and sang Haneiros Hallalu to Dad’s unforgettable tune, my mind reflected on the loss of Reb Yosef, whose lifelong goal was to bring more and more light into our dark world.

Yehi zichro baruch.

Yosi Klein

London

This Got Me Going [Guestlines / Issue 1041]

It’s a real treat every time Rabbi Kerzner contributes an article. I’ve been deliberating about starting a women’s lunch/learning program here in Monsey, and this article about taking the bull by the horns and just jumping in has triggered the official launch. We have already 350 women joining a daily learning slot, all thanks to this moving article. Thank you and tizku l’mitzvos!

P.S. I patiently await the day Rabbi Kerzner begins writing an official column for Mishpacha, but maybe after this article the push to “just do it” might actually make it happen.

Perel Friedman

Monsey, NY

Mistaken Halachic Inference [For the Record / Issue 1041]

I love Yehuda and Dovi’s work and appreciated this article like every other.

I was just hoping to relate, in a friends-tell-friends way, that the idea that the shtetl Jews would have their children go bring the cholent pot home from the communal oven in the absence of an eiruv would still be a halachic problem. The only way it is permissible for a parent to let a child do something assur on Shabbos, (even an issur d’Rabbanan) is if the child is doing it for himself and is not under the impression that the adults want it done. Additionally, the child needs to be below the age of bar havanah (according to most poskim, the maximum age is three). (See Mishnah Berurah siman 343 OC.)

It’s hard to imagine a child less than three years old implicitly assuming his parents want him to bring a pot of cholent home without having been asked, not to mention how implausible it is that he could schlep it.

As it’s unlikely that this what happened, I would be concerned that the piece constituted lashon hara about the Jews of that era. And chalilah, worse, it may have erroneously led today’s Jews to think that they can have their small children violate halachah on Shabbos for them.

Again, I write this with the utmost respect and admiration for Yehuda and Dovi’s work.

Pesach Porush

Spilling the Beans [For the Record / Issue 1041]

I saw the Heinz beans ads in last week’s issue.

I believe Heinz was the first product that carried the OU symbol. They announced their kashrus in a full-page ad in Young Israel’s Viewpoint magazine. Unusual for that time, they took another full-page ad to inform the public that the product was not kosher for Passover.

Shlomo Mostofsky

Rule Out PANDAS [As They Grow / Issue 1041]

Reading Rabbi Greenwald’s answer to the mother who wondered if her difficult preteen’s behavior was normal, I felt compelled to add my two cents.

Along with everything else Rabbi Greenwald suggested, I would check out any child with sudden, severe personality or mood changes for strep and Lyme.

It is unbelievable how often the right antibiotics together with a regimen of targeted vitamins can do what all the therapy and behavioral modification techniques couldn’t.

I would like to clarify that although many people are strep carriers and most of us in the northeast have been exposed to Lyme, it’s only when the immune system is suppressed that these illnesses may suddenly wreak havoc in otherwise emotionally healthy children and adults.

I’ve had a pediatrician tell me that PANDAS is a myth. “Look at me,” he exclaimed, “as a doctor I am exposed to strep every day. My antibodies are way over a thousand, and I am doing fine!”

So while it’s true that not every person with elevated ASO and anti-dNaseB antibodies has an inflamed brain and corresponding psychiatric symptoms, it’s  kind of like a peanut allergy. Some people can tolerate strep and Lyme and some kids act wacky every time they are exposed.

As I was reading the question it struck me how this teenager is acting nicely to her friends.

In the beginning, before autoimmune encephalitis (an inflamed brain that may be caused by strep or Lyme) gets very extreme, many children and adults are able to control their volatile symptoms in public and only fall apart at home. In the words of a fellow mother, “It is only so long that he can hold himself together.”

Doing the bloodwork for strep is simple. I would request to see the results myself. A diagnosis cannot be based only on exact numbers. As I said, like with allergies, each person reacts differently.

One aggressive eight-year-old child who also had severe reading difficulties had very low ASO numbers (less than 400). However, as the mother had tried everything she could think of, the doctor agreed to treat the child with antibiotics.

The kid was reading within a week! His interactions with other children dramatically improved. Of course, there are still ups and downs, but they are on the right track.

Now, instead of running a few times a week to different tutors and therapists, the challenge is to find a pediatrician who is supportive of PANDAS patients.

Lyme is much harder to diagnose. Every lab has different standards. There is also the paradox wherein antibodies are produced only when the body is already fighting the disease, but what if someone’s immune system is so weak that they don’t yet have antibodies?!

I can be contacted via Mishpacha.

Name Withheld

Yearn to Come Home [Worldview / Issue 1037]

My heart ached reading the November 20 column, “Make Aliyah Great Again,” and I felt I had to write in. As I read I kept wondering, where is the yearning to live in Eretz Yisrael? I heard about the yissurim loud and clear, but yearning? The phrase “Eretz Yisrael nikneis b’yissurim” is often cited in this truncated way. It’s missing a key word: a gift. Torah, Eretz Yisrael and The World to Come are three precious gifts that are earned only with yissurim.

In other words, the American community should feel privileged to have a chance to live in Eretz Yisrael. You should be grateful that it is so easy to become a citizen of Israel. All you have to do is be Jewish and that’s it. It’s the easiest second citizenship to get in the entire world.

In my opinion, it shows an entitlement attitude problem to think Israel owes you anything at all. You should be grateful for what they do offer. In fact, Hashem doesn’t owe any of us anything. We should be grateful for anything.

But lest I digress, your reaction seems to stem from the “inevitable” call for aliyah from Israeli politicians that usually comes up when an anti-Semitic attack occurs somewhere in chutz l’Aretz. But who says we need to be responding or give any credence at all to what Israeli politicians say? Who says that at the End of Days any government at all will be left standing?

I agree you shouldn’t come just because of anti-Semitism, though I wouldn’t tell you not to come because of that either. But why don’t you yearn to come to Eretz Yisrael? If you think it’s so hard, why doesn’t that bother you? It should leave an aching your heart. It shouldn’t be a rationalization to hold back and throw the responsibility back on others.

Don’t wait for politicians to solve your problems, and that goes for America, too. Don’t get over excited that Trump is going to “save” America. At best, if he’s successful, he can put a finger in the hole of the leaking dike called America. I think it’s only a matter of time. America’s ills are spiritual and need a spiritual revolution. Leave that job to the non-Jews there; our job is our own spiritual revolution.

In my opinion, Covid was a cataclysmic event and the galus is ending; it’s time to move home. How can you be so sure the opportunity to move to Eretz Yisrael will always be available? Are you all so sure that it’ll be a cakewalk to get here when Mashiach arrives? What if he asks how much you were yearning for the Geulah? Are you? Or are you overly enmeshed with the gashmiyus there?

If you say I haven’t addressed the issue of affordable housing, I’d say that it’s only worth a discussion once you change your mindset. I believe there are answers to your reservations but I’m disturbed by your premises.

Jews live with ambiguity all the time. We yearn for Mashiach, but live with the present. You don’t need to assuage your guilt at remaining in chutz l’Aretz by rationalizing that it isn’t practical to come anyway. You can remain in chutz l’Aretz and be torn; a Jew can do that.

Dream to make it here. The gains may be beyond what you imagine. Once you open your mind, heart and soul to the possibility, maybe Hashem will help you achieve it. Come to think of it, I don’t think Hashem was mentioned once in the article. People talk about Hashem here all the time. Come and join us. Im yirtzeh Hashem, you won’t regret it.

Marge Binder

Ramat Bet Shemesh

NOTE: Unfortunately, the name of Hashem was inadvertently included on p. 132 of issue 1041. Please dispose of it properly. We apologize for the oversight

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1043)

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

I work as a venture capitalist, and about six weeks ago, I received a call from a close friend who is also an entrepreneur we had invested in. Josh (not his real name; he asked that I change it to protect his privacy) had served as a senior executive at well-known startups like WeWork before launching a financial technology company that attracted investments from prestigious world-class firms.

“We just moved into a new office right across from Google headquarters in Manhattan, and I need your help putting up mezuzahs,” he said. “I want to make sure they’re in all the right places, the business won’t have mazel without them. Can you help me out?”

The next day, I visited his office with ten mezuzahs. Together, we made the brachah and affixed them where necessary.

“I feel like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders,” Josh said gratefully.

Once we finished, we sat down to review his list of potential customers, and he updated me on active sales conversations with world-class brands, including Fortune 100 and 500 companies.

“This year can be transformational for us,” Josh shared happily.

The post It’s a Deal first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Chaim stepped out of the beis medrash and took out his phone. Then he put it back into his pocket. There was a truck unloading drinks at the nearby makolet; it was probably too noisy to have a good conversation with Shloimy’s maggid shiur. Maybe in an hour or two, things would be quieter.

Then he remembered Perri’s narrowed eyes this morning when he’d left the house. “So you’ll call him today, right?” she had said.

“It’s on my list,” he promised.

He didn’t really have a list — they both knew that. But he also knew he couldn’t go back home without checking off this task. And bein hasedorim was his only window to do it. He sighed and walked up the block, away from the truck’s dull rumble and the workers’ barked instructions, and searched his contacts. Schlesinger, Rav. That was it.

“Kein, yes,” came the abrupt greeting.

“Shalom Rav Schlesinger, this is Chaim Weiss, the abba of Shloimy Weiss, from shiur beis.”

“Ah. It’s good you called.”

That didn’t sound promising. Chaim swallowed hard. “So what’s happening with Shloimy? How’s his learning?”

All the years, the answers had always been the same. Shloimy had a good head, he was a fine student, he learned well. Never, except for Rebbi Yudelevitz in fifth grade, had a rebbi offered any more feedback — just platitudes, with no particular excitement over Shloimy’s talent or ability or personality or contribution to the class. Probably because there was nothing to be excited about, Chaim presumed. Shloimy was one of those dependably uninspiring and uninspired boys who did what he was supposed to do but never caught anyone’s attention. Pretty much like Chaim had been.

“So, Rav Weiss wants to know, how is his son learning. Good question.” Rav Schlesinger paused. “It’s hard for him, what can I tell you. We move quickly in shiur beis, they’re big boys now. No more babying, no more coddling.”

“I hear.”

The post Face the Music: Chapter 11    first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Jewish music concerts in cities around the US reached their peak in the 1980s, much-anticipated events when even “out-of-towners” could meet their favorite music celebrities.

Places like Chicago and Detroit, Los Angeles and Miami, might have had five or six concerts annually, not to mention the concert scene in the New York area. But over the last 20 years or so, the concert concept has become less popular — not because cities aren’t interested in sponsoring them, but because the costs have become prohibitive. The performers, sound systems, video walls, extravagant lighting — it all became too much for smaller communities to afford.

One city, however, has been doing a major concert for 50 years straight. The city is Baltimore, and the organization that’s been sponsoring those concerts all these years is NCSY, an organization under the Orthodox Union whose mission is to inspire Jewish teens to build a strong connection to their Jewish roots.

Fifty years ago, a chassidish kollel yungerman with a dynamic personality yet zero kiruv experience named Rabbi Yitzy Lowenbraun (Reb Itchie) a”h took over the fledgling Atlantic Seaboard region of NCSY and made it one of the most innovative and successful kiruv operations in the country. It was Reb Itchie who organized that first concert. It took place in the large Beth Tfiloh shul, which was able to accommodate 1,600 people. The performer was singer/musician Stanley Miller; the following year, it was a new music sensation named Mordechai Ben David, followed a year later by the London School of Jewish Song. Since then, almost every popular Jewish performer has had an opportunity to perform on the NCSY stage.

Over the years, performers at what is officially known as the Isaac H. Taylor Jewish Music Festival (Dr. Taylor has sponsored the concert since the beginning, assisted first by Bonnie Pollack and then by Lauren Gluck) have included Avraham Fried, Miami Boys Choir, Diaspora Yeshiva Band, Yoel Sharabi, Dedi, Ohad, Yaakov Shwekey, Abie Rotenberg, and more recently, Benny Friedman, Simcha Leiner and Mordechai Shapiro.

Of course, traveling out of the New York area always has its risks. MBD arrived in Baltimore a breathable two hours before showtime, only to realize he had left his suit at home. Rabbi Yitzchok Dinovitzer, NCSY’s educational director and his escort, told him not to worry, took him directly to a Jewish suit store, bought a suit, had it checked for shaatnez and tailored on the spot, making it to the concert just in time.

Yerachmiel Begun once told me that the first time he performed there, he looked around and realized that the stage only had enough room to fit the boys but no room for the musicians. Then he saw that the shul had a choir box above the aron kodesh, so that’s where he put the musicians that night, and although he was skeptical, it worked out seamlessly.

Dedi was the one person who performed there for three consecutive years. The crowds always went wild when he performed — all the NCSY teens stood for the entire evening, singing and dancing in the aisles. Right before one of the concerts was over, Dedi asked the audience, “I need to eat after the show. Any suggestions?” It turned out that the restaurant he decided on couldn’t possibly hold the number of patrons who wanted to get in that night along with him.

One year, when Avraham Fried was the headliner, he decided to make the four-hour drive to Baltimore, when it began to snow. He arrived ten minutes before showtime and performed an amazing show without a rehearsal. He did have to stay overnight, though, as it was impossible to drive back.

Covid was the only year the concert was recorded online instead of live, but the organizers were worried that people wouldn’t pay the admission fee. In the end, it turned out that they made a nice profit for the organization, as everyone wanted to support the great cause.

The NCSY team, now under the leadership of Rabbi Jonah Lerner, always comes on stage for the last song, joining the cast as they sing the same finale they’ve been singing since that first evening in 1976 — “Someday We Will All Be Together.”

In the last decade, the concert has moved from the shul to Baltimore’s foremost music halls. I’m personally looking forward to this year’s 50th anniversary show, which will be held at The Lyric on January 12 and will feature Yoni Z, Shulem Lemmer, and Joey Newcomb.

Next week, my only son, Yaakov Moshe, will iy”H be getting married to his kallah, Atara Weiner, but what can I do — their Sunday sheva brachos falls on the same day. Wherever I’ll be, it’s a big mazel tov!

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1943)

The post Second Stage 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.

By Yisrael Yoskovitz, Budapest

Rabbi Shlomo Koves didn’t know what a Jew was, growing up in the Hungary of the 1980s. But once he was on the trajectory of yeshivah, semichah, and a mission to rebuild, there was no stopping the maverick rabbi who purchased corporations in order to fund communal projects that would ignite hearts. And being friends with the prime minister, who locked the borders against Islamic immigration, hasn’t hurt either

Say what you will about Viktor Orbán, Hungary’s prime minister, but one achievement will undoubtedly go down in history in his favor: sealing his country’s borders against the wave of migration that swept Europe during the first round of Syria’s civil war.

Europe has been going through a self-inflicted and painful death in recent years. Masses of fundamentalists are flooding its cities, changing its character and way of life. The political crisis currently gripping the EU countries is an inevitable byproduct of progressive self-righteousness that photographed well but is now exacting the price. In hindsight, it turned out the picture was far too costly.

But one country that’s an exception is Hungary. In an admittedly unphotogenic move, Prime Minister Orbán decided to stand firm and prevent the entry of refugees (Poland did as well). Hungary, for its part, offers Israelis three benefits in one ticket: It’s essentially free of anti-Semitism, it’s home to many Jews, and it’s devoid of Islamists.

And a few weeks ago, when the International Criminal Court in the Hague issued an arrest warrant for Israeli prime minister Netanyahu, the first leader to declare that he didn’t recognize the court’s jurisdiction was Viktor Orbán.

The friendship between Netanyahu and Orbán began back in the early 2000s, when both leaders had already been prime ministers and were waiting to make their comeback.  Orbán, like Netanyahu, is an intellectual, a man of letters, and a phenomenon in political maneuvering. And like Bibi, Hungary’s charismatic leader and his nationalist government enjoy sweeping admiration from the hardworking middle class and deep loathing from the elites and academia.

Orbán, endlessly shrewd, manages to govern his country with a firm hand. Hungary’s political system grants him a stable government, a friendly parliament, and freedom from significant coalition pressures. His detractors claim that since he resumed office in 2010, his policies have undermined democracy, weakened judicial independence, increased corruption, and curtailed press freedom in Hungary.

But he proclaims to be a defender of national and moral values in the face of the European Union; in that vein, he’s one of Israel’s biggest supporters as well, in the face of a postmodern political landscape that prefers to embrace terrorists over victims. At the outset of the war, Hungary’s government even imposed a sweeping ban on pro-Palestinian demonstrations, which Orbán referred to as “pro-terrorist protests.”

And it’s Rabbi Shlomo Koves, chief rabbi of the Association of Hungarian Jewish Communities, who is a key player in the strong alliance.

The post The Right Spice 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.