Not in the Yom Tov Spirit

› Esti Becker

I was greatly disappointed with the Succos supplement Yiddishe Gelt. While our finances and spending habits are important topics, it certainly was not in the spirit of the Yom Tov.

Everything has a time and place, and this was definitely not the time (for me) for such a supplement. One was not even able to read it during Yom Tov, as money conversations are considered uvda d’chol. Additionally, reading about such a topic brings most people stress and does not enhance simchas Yom Tov.

I’m surprised that the rabbinic board allowed the supplement to be published. I look forward to being inspired by the special Yom Tov supplements that you publish; this supplement fell short.

A Comprehensive Feel

› David Z. Solomon, Woodmere, NY

Thank you for everything you have done to provide our community with serious articles that provoke and stimulate our brains and our hearts and having the courage to raise difficult issues that we as a community need to confront.

Your special supplement for Succos 5782, Yiddishe Gelt: An Honest Conversation about the Cost of Frum Life, further raised the bar, forcing us to confront one of the most challenging topics in our community.

I personally asked my two teenaged children to read the supplement, and it made a huge impact on them. The collection of articles and visuals immediately gave them a much deeper and comprehensive feel for and sensitivity to the true economic costs of frum life (“Dad, I didn’t know tefillin cost so much”).

I have no doubt that your raising such a fundamental topic, in such a prolific manner, will force us all to think more about this topic, prepare our children in a more comprehensive fashion, perhaps formulate some creative solutions, and hopefully help us all to focus more on the things in our lives that truly matter.

May Hashem bless you in abundance for having the strength to tackle one of the most important topics impacting our community.

Sanity Comes First

› A wife who’s learning to juggle

Although I enjoyed the entire Succos edition, I found the Yiddishe Gelt supplement very intriguing and practical.

My husband and I developed a bit of a unique mentality when it comes to dealing with financial difficulty. My husband has severe anxiety, OCD, and ASD, so we are both in therapy to try and lead a happy life regardless of his limitations. Since the cost of therapy is astronomical (over $15,000 a year plus psychiatrists for him too), and my husband is still learning and I teach, our income isn’t enough to cover those costs in addition to all other expenses.

Adding an income isn’t an option since my husband isn’t capable of holding down a job right now, and I need the stability and hours of my current job to continue holding down the fort at home. Switching to an agency that accepts our insurance isn’t practical right now since we both established strong relationships with our therapists, and it would be too unsettling to switch. Our parents are not able to help out financially in any steady way right now. This is our situation.

I was brought up to be careful and look ahead with finances, so we didn’t buy chicken for five months, and my kids didn’t go to day camp this summer. My self-care right now is a walk at night or a long shower as opposed to weekly mani-pedis or buying expensive sunglasses (something which I hope to be able to do one day). We used up any savings we did have so as not to get into credit card debt.

That was our approach, until recently, when my husband came up with the concept of “sanity comes first” — meaning that an extra session of therapy, buying supper once in a while, or something new for me for Yom Tov takes precedence. He says that our focus right now is on building a functioning home for ourselves and our children, even if it means buying something not in our budget right now.

So we figured out a balance. We pinch and save for the most part, yet splurge when we feel it’s necessary for the journey we didn’t choose but are trying to accept with grace.

I didn’t get a new coat or shoes in two years, but will take an expensive course I feel will help us right now. I buy weekday clothes in Target for my kids instead of the Jewish stores like I used to but will go out for supper with my husband when we feel it will help our relationship. We skip the expensive vacations our friends go on, but we never skip therapy. Ever. (We wouldn’t be able to do this without our extremely caring and understanding therapists who accept headchecks when necessary...)

I hope that having a more open mindset — taking our emotional, mental, physical, and financial well-being into account all at once — will be right for us now.

May we all have the knowledge and abilities to make the right decisions and the right times.

Better Late than Never

› C.K.

I am of the 50-somethings who contacted Naftali Horowitz about the issue he mentioned in his article: We have almost no savings for retirement — and I am terrified.

Mr. Horowitz graciously provided his support and advice and set us on the path to starting scraping together some money for investing, which will hopefully have some time to grow before we retire. Along the way, I found that we had believed many of the common myths that prevent others from investing: that you need a large amount of money to invest, that you need to hire a broker, that you should be worried about losing all your money if you put it somewhere that is not FDIC insured… and that you can’t afford to invest now for later.

To frum families of all ages, I would like to share the wisdom that I learned from Mr. Horowitz and other sources:

• Late is better than never — but really, the earlier the better. Because of compound interest, your returns increase exponentially the earlier you invest. A startling chart indicates that someone investing X amount per year for 10 years starting at age 20, even if they stop contributing at age 30, will end up with a larger amount at age 65 than someone who invests the same amount per year for 30 years between ages 30 and 60. The advantage of time makes even small, regular contributions powerful.
• To balance risk and rewards, choose an indexed fund that is linked to the status of the stock market as a whole (e.g., indexed to the S&P 500). Individual stocks may rise and fall, but the stock market on the whole has historically risen over any given 20-year period.
• To further mitigate risk as you get closer to retirement age, choose a life cycle fund, with a target date close to your anticipated retirement. This type of fund will shift an increasing percentage of investments to safer bond funds as your retirement date nears.
• Set up a Roth IRA, which allows you to invest a limited amount per year and then withdraw the results tax free after retirement.
• Take advantage of your employer’s 401K plan (403b for non-profits). This allows you to invest a percentage of your income pre-tax, and some employers will even match your donation up to a certain percent. (Free money — don’t leave it on the table!)
• Established online companies like Fidelity.com and Vanguard.com are excellent resources for setting up investments, with the option of automatic monthly contributions directly from your checking account. Their free customer service, which is available through evening hours, is patient and friendly (even if you are totally clueless), and will take you through the steps you need.

Relying on Social Security? Make sure you take some factors into account:

• Currently, Social Security benefits at full retirement age max out at about $3,200 a month — and that is for someone who has earned $143,000 per year for 35 years of his career. For the rest of us, monthly benefits are calculated based on the worker’s 35 highest-earning years, and payout may be as low as several hundred dollars per month.
• The salary used to determine SS benefits is the taxable income. So any legitimate reduction in taxable income, including parsonage and QTR (tuition reduction), also reduces future Social Security benefits.
• The future of Social Security is not clear, but it is widely accepted that the current system (in which a shrinking pool of workers pays the benefits of a growing pool of retirees) cannot remain viable for long. Workers age 40 and under should consider the possibility that their expected benefits may be greatly reduced from current levels.

As we struggled to create a better-late-than-never plan, I decided that at least the next generation should start off with the right habits. I encouraged my teenagers to invest a portion of their earnings and gift money; they didn’t need much convincing when they saw the charts demonstrating the effects of early investing.

Most of your readers are probably thinking, “But I can’t afford to invest right now.” And the truth is that for most of us, the “right time” for investing for the future will never come. But consider that we all somehow find the funds for necessities; we are used to prioritizing our minimal needs like food, shelter, and our children’s chinuch. Making hishtadlus for our own support when we can no longer work ranks right up there with the basics.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 881)

The post Yiddishe Gelt: Issue 881 — the conversation continues first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Required Reading

B. Neuhoff, Brooklyn, New York.

I would like to commend you on the excellent Succos supplement “Yiddishe Gelt.” I read it from cover to cover and urged my children and grandchildren to read it as well. In fact, I think it should be required reading for all young adults and, indeed, for anyone whose grasp of financial literacy consists of “Earn it, spend it” or “Want it, get it.”

The cautionary tales were revealing, the experts’ advice invaluable, and Rabbi Reisman, as always, pitch perfect. You handled a heavy topic with a light and deft hand. Very well done!

My Personal Priority  

L.K.

I read and reread the supplement about frum finances with great interest. It’s definitely one of those mysterious topics that I’ve always tried to make sense of. Seems that there are a lot of creative ways people make ends meet, a lot of siyata d’Shmaya, and a lot of unsolved problems and debt, too.

As a poor middle-classer, both me and my husband working, with four kids kein ayin hara, we are budgeted and work very hard to live within our means. And a struggle it is. Life is very expensive. And no, we don’t get a free dime.

But one thing I do prioritize is cleaning help. I’ll scrimp on food and clothing so I have the money for it because it makes such a difference in how calm and attentive a mother I am able to be.

I was wondering why it wasn’t mentioned in even one profile? Isn’t this a necessary expense in our busy frum lives with kids and jobs and family obligations and Yom Tov and all?

I would be curious to hear what others think about this expense. Do they manage without outside help? If yes, how do they juggle that? Are there others out there who are on a shoestring budget but make this a priority, too?

Don’t Deprive Your Children

Name Withheld

Wow! The “Yiddishe Gelt” supplement was so good, long overdue.

There’s one point I want to mention. Some parents are busy depriving children from extras because they do not want to spoil their kids. But these same parents do not stop spending on remodeling their home — room after room, paint, scrape, new moldings, light construction…. To teach children not to want so much starts at the parents. Children see what their parents’ priorities are, and that is what they copy.

I am a generous balabatish person, but not on someone else’s cheshbon. I would never borrow for luxury. I am not scared to say no when my children ask for very expensive things because I am confident that I am okay with not having expensive things regularly myself.

Parents need to know their priorities, and to give a message to children not to want so many things, through their own personal example. It is not a “kintz” to teach children not to have when we parents want everything.

I once saw a mother shop with a child. The child wanted a nosh, and the mother yelled, “You shouldn’t expect a nosh every time I take you to the grocery.” Five minutes later the mother went with her friend next door to sit down for lunch, which cost about $35 to $40. What did she teach her child? That she is the mother and she can have whatever she wants every time she does grocery shopping.

That said, I don’t deprive my children from having what the majority of the community’s children have. Handling money wisely and budgeting doesn’t equal deprivation. Deprived kids get nowhere.

So choose your priorities carefully and make sure your children understand that there are limits but still feel socially accepted and not deprived. You don’t need to fall into debt, but you should think before you say no.

Our Climb Out of Debt

L.P., Israel

One word for this supplement: Amazing!

What an incredible, honest, and much-needed supplement and areas to cover. I loved each portion and how you included different areas of finances, debt, and Jewish spending.

I have been married for less than three years, and my husband and I find ourselves in about $10,000 of debt (some of it is from my husband’s single days). I felt so validated as I read the stories about debt, and almost every individual wrote something to the tune of “nobody gets into debt on purpose, it just happens.” It’s really true — and although getting into debt was a huge mistake, it made me feel better that I’m not the only one whom this happened to so quickly. It also opened my eyes to realize that I cannot ignore my debt (I’ve been making tiny monthly payments) and need to face the reality.

When my husband and I realized we were in real trouble, we turned to RSK (Reb Shayala’s Kitchen) — an incredible organization similar to Mesila — that offers financial coaching at a discounted rate. Mrs. Lauren Hershkowitz, our amazing coach, has guided us and given us such amazing advice for our practical spending, as well as a hashkafic approach.

The first step was to stop using our credit card, which Mrs. Hershkowitz suggested in the most gentle way. At first my husband and I were shocked; how could we stop? Our credit card is our source of income! Baruch Hashem, we have managed to stop using it, a huge accomplishment for us.

Now we use the very detailed Excel sheet they gave us to track our income and expenses. We are still in the beginning stages, but b’ezras Hashem we will get there soon.

I hope you’ll print more supplements and articles like these — I look forward to reading them!

Start Them Young

Joel (Yossi) Shandelman, Monsey, NY

I congratulate you on bringing the topic of financial challenges in our community to the forefront of essential and relevant topics for the Mishpacha readership. If I had to sum up the current viewpoints, I would say that they are mostly aligned with a “sur meira” perspective of getting out of indebtedness.

Of course, before one can progress to the “aseh tov” of fiscal responsibility, one must go through the “sur meira.” Having read the supplement cover to cover, I think it was only Josh Hurewitz that promoted two very important concepts toward aseh tov when he said: 1) Pay yourself first, and 2) Teach your kids by raising fiscally literate children. The earlier children learn the value of money, the sooner they will be able to control money rather than letting money control them.

While we tend not to discuss money with our children, as we don’t think the stress of money management is appropriate for them at a young age, I do believe that teaching fiscal literacy in the teenage years, and perhaps even earlier, is essential.

For example, when a teenager babysits and earns between $10 and $14 an hour, what does the teenager do with the money? I suspect that the parents would prefer they spend it on whatever it was they were going to ask the parents to provide. One less stress on the parents. But in reality, we should be teaching our children that while one must (at least initially) work for money, the long-term goal is really for their money to work for them.

Every dollar that a teenager earns can become a “worker bee” in an investment account that continues to work and earn dividends day in, day out. The compounding of interest from dividends will multiply and increase such that when they are ready to marry a kollel husband or make a significant purchase, they will have a base to take it from and not need to use a credit card to finance their purchases.

There are many tools in the financial toolbox. Educating our children at a young age to know and employ those tools will go a long way toward teaching fiscal responsibility and financial independence.

Lastly, reading is essential, and to that end I would recommend a very good book for teenagers and adults alike titled Rich Dad Poor Dad, which provides the psychology of money management from both Dads’ perspectives. It could easily become a launchpad for parent-children discussions on fiscal literacy and financial independence.

I look forward to future articles that will focus on the aseh tov of financial literacy.

Unfair Gap

L.M., Brooklyn, NY

Thank you for the beautiful Succos edition. In the “Yiddishe Gelt” supplement, I noticed a disturbing trend. Six out of the seven interviewees said that they gift the rebbeim a significantly greater amount than the morahs. To quote, “Purim-time, we give the rebbeim $50 cash and the morahs a small gift worth about $10,” and “$75 to $100 to rebbeim and $18 to $25 to teachers at Purim.”

Our morahs work extremely hard, especially if they teach boys in the older grades. “A small gift worth about $10” is not going to cut it in showing your appreciation, especially if you’re giving the rebbeim “$50 cash.”

I understand that the rebbeim are expected to go the extra mile when it comes to their talmidim, such as attending bar mitzvahs and the like, but the discrepancy between the rebbeim and teachers’ gifts is definitely not warranted. Many times, with a husband in kollel, these teachers are the primary breadwinners for their families, in addition to taking care of their households.

I always make it a point to give my children’s rebbeim and teachers the same amount and to write both of them nice cards detailing my appreciation for the hard work they each put into my child’s chinuch. I wish more people would do the same.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 880)

The post Yiddishe Gelt: The conversation continues first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Unfairly Treated — Rabbi Meir B. Kahane, menahel, Chedvas Bais Yaakov, Yerushalayim

As usual, the insight of my dear friend and colleague Rabbi Shimon Russell in his expertly written article “All of Our Children” is uncanny.

As an educator for over two decades in both yeshivos and Bais Yaakovs and as the principal of a Bais Yaakov, I have had much exposure to both the successes and challenges in the classrooms of today’s Torah institutions. One of the points Rabbi Russell makes needs expansion.

He correctly addressed the need for our yeshivah and school systems to be emotionally safe environments for our children. Environments that allow the “vast majority of our children to feel truly capable of getting good grades” and not “feel like a failure.” He writes that “such feeling can erode the last remaining drops of self-esteem… and turns him against himself, his school, and our mesorah…” Absolutely correct.

However, I feel very strongly that the school systems, Bais Yaakov system, and yeshivah system are being unfairly targeted as the culprits of this issue.

The Torah world is a victim of its own incredible (read: miraculous) success. Our classrooms and schools are packed, baruch Hashem. What Klal Yisrael must realize is that such success makes it entirely unreasonable to expect a teacher or even a school to cater to every academic category and religious struggle. There are simply not enough resources or manpower. Consequently, schools must choose the levels they feel most qualified to cater to and build their system accordingly.

It is certainly true that many students are not getting what they need. But what is a school to do?

One obvious solution would be to create many types of schools catering to varying academic, emotional, and religious levels. Unfortunately, this is not a viable solution — and only partially due to a lack of resources and manpower. The shameful reality is that too many parents are unwilling to send their children to such schools and will push, lie, and even blackmail school administrators to get their child into more “prestigious’” institutions despite it being less than ideal for the child. The tragic truth is that parents would rather send their daughter to a “top” school or seminary and their son to a “top” yeshivah than to one that will actually build them.

I have many talented friends and coworkers who, in a heartbeat, would start schools catering to students who need assistance. Some have tried. These schools never get off the ground or close a few years later due to lack of registration.

It’s ironic that we yell and scream about how “the system” (usually said with a negative angry tone) doesn’t cater to our kids. Please ask yourself: Would you send your child to a school that does? Many parents would. But too many parents would not.

I personally know a number of parents whose children privately suffer religiously, some from drugs and alcohol. Yet those parents refuse to send their child to a school or program that caters to such struggles because es past nisht. I guess having an off-the-derech child is pas yah?

(As an aside, a large catalyst for the so-called crisis regarding a lack of Bais Yaakov high schools and seminaries is because many parents refuse to send their daughters anywhere but the “most prestigious” of schools, and get insulted if a school tells them their daughter is not right for their school. They then push and get their daughter in and when she doesn’t get what she needs, they blame the school. How backward. How can every girl go to a “top tier” school?)

Please don’t misconstrue my words. I am not claiming that there are no problems in the schools and yeshivos. There are problems everywhere — Adam ate from the tree. Certainly, there are teachers who make serious mistakes and handle things incorrectly and that is unacceptable. But if your daughter or son needs help academically or religiously (even mild), don’t expect that a school who does not claim to cater to those types of issues will handle your child’s challenges correctly. They don’t claim to be capable because they are not. And your child is your responsibility, not theirs.

Bashing the system is easy, but a red herring. The system is not the issue. When parents stop sacrificing their children upon the altars of self-image, we will have students who feel valued by, and love for, the systems they are in.

As an extension, making a child feel negatively about the school or system they are in will guarantee they hate it. Turning every mistake that a teacher makes into a flaw in the Bais Yaakov or yeshivah system will set your child up for an academic career of misery.

Even without verbalizing negativity per se, simply having lower standards than the values being taught in the school builds disrespect and negativity for the school. If you choose to send your daughter to a stronger school, you must raise your own standards. If you cannot raise your own standards, send them to a school with weaker standards. Oh, wait, I forgot, you can’t do that! Es past nisht. I hear. It’s easier just to blame the system.

Where Credit Is Due — Devorah Sasson

Thanks for your magazine, I enjoy it each week.

This week’s Guestlines by Rabbi Shimon Russell had great points, but unfortunately didn’t give credit to the person who developed “The Four S’s.”

This idea was developed by Dr. Dan Siegel in his series of books about parenting (which are grounded in attachment theory — an interesting topic in itself).

I particularly enjoyed Gedalia Guttentag’s “Open Mic” piece. I think he said things that no one is saying. Not every kid goes off the derech because they are damaged, traumatized, or in pain. Thank you for printing it.

A Third Explanation — Parents of a Questioning Teen

The “Open Mic” article in the August 4th issue of Mishpacha notes that the phenomenon of youth from Orthodox families abandoning the frum lifestyle cannot solely be explained by trauma and hurt. The article correctly mentions a second factor — the allure of the secular world.

That too, however, does not fully explain the reality. There is often a third explanation. Some of our youth have questions of belief, and are not finding satisfactory answers to the big questions of life and faith. Common, clichéd answers such as “we have a mesorah,” or extolling the beauty of Shabbos, do not tend to work well for these individuals. If we want to keep these children on the path, we need to think beyond “unconditional love” and “just love them,” and give them answers that truly satisfy their questions and quell their doubts.  All branches of the Orthodox community should give some serious thought about how to best approach this challenging phenomenon.

Doubly Bereft — A Parent in Pain

I’d like to thank Gedalia Guttentag for expressing so well that which I have felt for so long.

I am choosing to remain anonymous because most people in our society have still not come to understand that bechirah goes both ways, as Gedalia pointed out. Therefore, hearing of any non-conforming children, the first reaction is to look for “the reason.” How hurtful this is to the parents and siblings of those who chose “out.”

We would prefer not to have people talking behind their hands about us or our erliche children. We would prefer not to expose our family members, many of whom are klei kodesh or mechanchim and mechanchos, to the scrutiny of people who look for skeletons in everyone else’s closets, casting a jaundiced eye on the innocent and possibly eroding the effectiveness of their contributions to Klal Yisrael.

One danger of always attributing the choice to leave Yiddishkeit to pain and abuse is that the response that is appropriate for that situation is definitely not appropriate for a child who chooses to follow taavah and justifies it with pseudo-intellectual thoughts.

Our child left our home to pursue his own lifestyle, but maintained close bonds with his siblings. We consulted rabbanim, therapists, and counselors. All agreed that it would be best for us to encourage the other children to keep in touch with their sibling, to meet, go on outings, etc. The mentor who knew our child well assured us that he would not attempt to influence the others, since our child acknowledged that he was suffering emotional and not hashkafic pain, and that our child is a good and trustworthy person.

We were told to be loving and accepting, and not to push Yiddishkeit, either in action or thought — not to ask him to conform to community norms when he visited, not to make our Shabbos table “too Torahdig,” to minimize hashkafah or halachah talk in favor of family shmoozing, and so on.

So we did. And we lost another child.

We did not discourage or monitor their conversations or meetings. We trusted our older child, we trusted those who had advised us, and we hoped for the best. But nothing prepared us for the worst.

Should we all have noticed that there were none of the usual reactions to abusive treatment? Our child was not on the streets, not doing drugs, not hanging out with unsavory friends. In fact, he was earning respect as a success in his chosen field, making good money, and living well. Should that have been a warning sign that it was not “pain” that caused his exit? Should we have spent more time with our other children discussing hashkafah, rather than sympathy for their sibling’s angst? Could we have gotten a different result if we had used a different response?

I have heard that to say “I could have...” is apikorsus. Hashem gave us the knowledge and advice He wanted us to have, and there was nothing else for us to do but follow instructions.

But it still hurts. And I still feel guilty.

So what do we do? We let our tears soak the Tehillim, we take solace in the words of Dovid Hamelech, who himself suffered such anguish from his children (two of whom actually tried to murder him), yet he continued to daven for their redemption. “Avshalom, bni…”

Layers of Pain — A Sister Who Knows

I am the younger sister of what you call “off the derech” brothers. Not brothers who are tattooed or green-haired, not alcoholics or addicts, but exactly what Mr. Guttentag describes, smart, gifted boys who have “chosen” the second option. Chosen to go astray in search of what seems to be taavah, and intellectualism. Dressed exactly to match the criteria of “teens who simply opt out of frum life for something cooler.”

And I used to think exactly like he does. I assumed that there must be something out there that’s attractive and luring these intelligent thinkers. Something that I might still be too young to be aware of or understand, but is forceful enough to be pulling my brothers, who I had always admired and respected, to go an unfamiliar route and destroy the family in their wake. On occasion they’d even be the ones to say to me, “When you grow up, you’ll understand.”

And so, I waited, for years and years to understand. I still don’t know exactly how I thought it would play itself out, but after expecting it for many years, it happened.

No, I didn’t leave the folds of anything. I didn’t change my dress code, lingo, or friend group. I simply changed my perspective, my mindset, and my understanding.

It happened when the most talented and charismatic brother of the bunch, the one I always banked on for proof that not only shallow kids who have been burned and couldn’t make it through the system go off, who was literally in yeshivah till he was 23, related an experience in a moment of vulnerability. He choked out one Shabbos afternoon an astonishing revelation that still has me cold and shivering as I write.

A few of us were sitting around as he reminisced about those days when he “did believe in Hashem” when he’d lie in his bed in his yeshivah dorm room at night and wait till the lights went out so he could cry and beg Hashem not to wake him up in the morning. I watched the tears well up in his eyes, I saw the shudder and quiver pass over his body, and I’ve been forever changed from that moment on.

Can you imagine that a successful-looking college student, who has graduated multiple programs and holds more than one degree, can still cry thinking about the intensity of the emotions he felt as a young boy of about 14, when over 15 years have passed since? Can we even try to measure the magnitude of the pain and low self-worth he must have been experiencing to be asking Hashem to die at such a young stage, when his peers were probably busy with kumzitzen or sports?

No matter how hard kids in pain try to assure you that they are just like you — only enjoying their lives more — know, that under all those layers of self-defense and self-glorification to prove that they are better off than anyone else, there are layers and layers of pain and pain and more pain. Their past is pushing them forward. There is no doubt that they’ve been through more than you imagine and if you don’t see it at first glance, you’re obviously not close enough to the person in question. You’re likely judging and deciding without knowing real facts or feelings

So, though I’m still young and my experience is limited, life has taught me to believe that exactly the opposite of the article is true. There are almost “no teens or adults who have never been abused or bullied but still leave frum life!” And no, it’s not “all about joining the fun, looking like most people your age, and indulging in urges with abandon.”

No one gives up everything they’ve got just for fun. If someone is prepared to trade in their whole life, their family, their comfort zone, every acquaintance, and habit they’ve known, to face their fate in an unknown world, they’ve obviously found themselves in such a low that they considered this their only shot left to pitch.

Attachment Is the Key — Rabbi Gershon Schaffel, rav, Young Israel of Skokie; dayan, Chicago Choshen Mishpat Kollel and the Business Halachah Institute

Although unsolicited, I would like to join the conversation between Rabbi Russell and Rabbi Guttentag from last week’s issue.

Rabbi Russell has been talking about the impact trauma and, more importantly, microtrauma, has on children. He often quotes his rebbi, Rav Mattisyahu Salomon shlita, who says that we should not refer to OTD children as “drop-outs, but “push-outs” due to the many contributing factors that the system is responsible for that leads children “off the derech.”

Rabbi Guttentag, however, raises an interesting point. What about the children who were not traumatized but were not inspired and thus exercise their bechirah to choose a secular lifestyle?

There is an important factor that addresses not only the impact of trauma but even those who exercise their bechirah in choosing the glitzy, immediate gratification world of secular society. The common denominator of both phenomena is the child’s lack of attachment to either his parents, the system, or both.

Attachment is one of the most powerful forces in the universe. The ultimate in life is our deveikus with Hashem. Hashem wired us with the need to attach. As newborns, we are completely helpless and rely on our attachment with our parents for survival. Throughout our lives, we are managing our attachments and will almost always choose attachment. Children seek attachment in times of danger, and the urge for attachment overpowers their survival instinct.

When attachment roots are firmly in place, children can weather the storm of theological and philosophical questions that cannot be answered. Though Moshe Rabbeinu could not understand why the righteous suffered, his attachment to Hashem preserved his faith. But a child who is not attached to parents, grandparents, rebbeim, or morahs will seek attachment elsewhere and that is with their peers.

Peer pressure becomes an active force in a child’s life when our children are not attached to a charismatic adult in their lives. A major indicator of whether kiruv efforts will be successful, referenced by Rabbi Guttentag, is whether the kiruv candidate is attaching to the mekarev or not.

As Rabbi Russell indicates, brutal honesty and an accurate assessment of where we stand is the most important step to address and resolve the most important challenge we face in chinuch.

I applaud Mishpacha magazine for bringing the issue to the consciousness of our community and hope that we can work together to assure that every last one of our children has the benefit of deep attachment with parents, rebbeim, and morahs, and ultimately, with Hashem.

Wanted: A Sense of Mission — Ayala Brown

In response to Gedalia Guttentag’s essay about kids who make the choice to leave Yiddishkeit, I would like to offer one theory for why that happens. As he says, if we can identify the problem, we can work on a solution.

I am not a rav or even an askan. I can only offer the perspective of a mother of school-age and teenage children, the “boots on the ground,” so to speak.

The community, baruch Hashem, has matured. We have many institutions that support our lifestyle and an organization for practically every need. These are all good things.

But as a result of all those good things, I think sometimes kids feel they aren’t needed. They are born into a huge, basically functioning system. They never have the opportunity to make choices. The system has made all the choices for them.

Kids today are growing up without a sense of mission. They are not rebuilding Yiddishkeit after a war. They are not fighting a particular movement. Teenagers in general struggle with a need to “find their place.” Everyone needs to feel needed. But for today’s teens, that inevitable question of “where do I belong, what gives me value?” is not easily answered.

Further, some kids (many more than we would like to acknowledge) experience rejection by the system. They are not easily accepted to elementary or high school, or they have friends or siblings who were not easily accepted. And our girls grow up in fear that no one will want to marry them.

The message they absorb is: We don’t need you. And the yetzer hara is strong...

This does not mean every kid with such experiences will leave Yiddishkeit. But without a sense of their own value and importance to the klal, kids are more likely not to identify with the whole.

I wonder what can be done. A strong family unit can definitely mitigate some of this effect, as may a rebbi or teacher who explicitly addresses the value of every Yid and of every mitzvah.

But on a systemic level, how can we give our kids a sense of mission and inspiration strong enough to motivate them to cling to the ways of the Torah?

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 874)

The post All Our Children: The conversation continues first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

THE WAY IT’S BEEN DONE › Concerned for my community

I want to thank the magazine and Rabbi Besser for publishing the piece “Scared to Shine.” As a younger, energetic, and involved balabos in an older, out-of-town community, it spoke to me. A lot.

Breaking down the “this is how we’ve always done it” complex is so challenging, yet no one thinks about why they do it. The funny part is, many of the people involved in the community are businessmen and they would never operate their businesses with that attitude. Yet they’ll let a mosad operate inefficiently, because the older operating model is what’s been done.

I hope the many energized askanim in Klal Yisrael don’t give up and remember the words we say every Shabbos morning about Hashem repaying those who faithfully serve their communities.

ALREADY ACHIEVING THE GOALS › Dr. Shmuel Zentman, chairman of the board, Torah Umesorah

I noted with interest Rabbi Avrohom Neuberger’s recent article, “A Crisis or a Challenge,” which laments a number of issues that the world of chinuch faces today. Indeed, the situation is fraught with complexities.

The writer is quite right in suggesting that it is Torah Umesorah that ought to be taking the lead in initiatives to develop future leaders. However, what is omitted is actual information regarding the growing number of initiatives and programs that have been in fact implemented — some for many years — and are indeed illuminating the chinuch paths for Torah educators across the continent and beyond.

As a member of the organization’s executive board, and as an individual who has been closely involved with Torah Umesorah for decades, I can only express pride stemming from the many accomplishments made by our organization.

Some of our most significant leadership initiatives over the past decade alone include the following:

The Principals Fellowship Program for men and women, which has graduated 200 principals over the course of eight years (the training period for each cohort is two years); annual leadership summits for menahalim and menahalos, that is, three annual conferences, national pre-convention programs and midwinter conferences, exclusively for principals; summer seminars for principals (150 principals are currently taking part in this summer’s program); “Leadership Coaching” — an initiative that provides tens of hours of mentoring to principals by our executive consultants, with the aim of assisting them in leadership roles, providing them with our broad vista of resources, and coaching them to navigate through problems in actual practice; and networking sessions — not only at every conference but, more formally, through virtual platforms eight times a year. (These networking sessions for principals are held both regionally and nationally.)

Additionally, we offer instructional coaching collaboratives for master teachers, our future leaders. Torah Umesorah also trains instructional coaches in schools as a part of the schools’ leadership teams. To date, 215 coaches have received this vital training.

Beyond all these initiatives, there is a wide array of training courses, networking programs, and teacher-training programs that have comprised one of the organization’s mainstay tracks for decades. Our trainees continue to make their mark upon the chinuch scene everywhere.

In terms of lay leadership, Torah Umesorah’s annual Presidents Conference offers unique professional learning opportunities for askanim, including guidance and skill-building for effective school governance.

As for kiruv and the development of our Jewish communities, Torah Umesorah has founded over three dozen kollelim across America, and we have placed hundreds of klei kodesh in positions of leadership across the entire terrain. These include rabbanim, roshei kollelim, menahalim, and many more.

I do commend Rabbi Neuberger for bringing critical issues to the forefront for readers. By so doing he helps to elevate the frum community’s priorities from the mundane to the critical. However, I want to share with him and with your readers the fact that for nearly 80 years, Torah Umesorah has been achieving the very goals outlined in his article… and much more.

Additional projects are constantly explored and implemented. Torah Umesorah continues to be the go-to organization dealing with issues raised by the choshuve author.

MORE STABLE THAN IT SEEMS › Hillel Adler, Consortium of Jewish Day Schools

Kudos to Mrs. Fleksher for bringing to public discussion the teacher shortage issue in Jewish day schools. Unfortunately, without enough yeshivah and Bais Yaakov graduates taking positions in day schools, we are backtracking on all the accomplishments of the day school movement of the last 75 years.

These schools are critical in smaller communities where the day school is the anchor for all meaningful Jewish life in a city. We have seen too often that when the school dies, the Jewish community dies. It is ironic that at a time with the largest-ever numbers in yeshivos and Bais Yaakov schools, we have fewer young men and women taking teaching positions than we did 50 years ago.

I agree that the first step in tackling the teacher shortage issue is to bring awareness to the public about its existence and the severity of its implications. However, to make progress, we need real solutions. Fortunately, the Consortium of Jewish Day Schools (CoJDS), in partnership with Cross River Bank, has begun an initiative called Lilmod Ul’lamed to address the issue.

In its pilot year, the program trained 12 kollel fellows looking to take careers in chinuch. The primary focus is to help day schools in “out-of-town” communities. The strategy is to first recruit from community kollelim such as Columbus, OH, and Jacksonville, FL, to help fill positions in similarly sized cities. In addition to regular online training classes, trainees receive practical classroom experience in partnership with their local day school. Mrs. Miriam Gettinger, principal of the Hasten Hebrew Academy, summarized the success of the program: “The partnership with CoJDS has been a lifeline for me professionally.”

While Mrs. Fleksher’s article made several good points about the causes of the shortage, I would like to take issue with the concept that chinuch does not earn a livable salary. The flip side of “fuzzy math” is that positions in chinuch could potentially hold more financial stability than it appears. Significant savings can add up on items such as parsonage, QTR, employee tuition discounts, and lower housing costs in smaller communities. It is quite realistic that a rebbi in a small-to-mid-size community could be more financially stable than his friend in the larger community who chose real estate or Amazon as a career earning double the salary.

The staff at CoJDS has discussed the issue at length in a search for solutions with multiple leaders in the Jewish communal scene both in Israel and the US. The Cross River Lilmod Ul’lamed project is one piece of a larger strategy. CoJDS would like to bring to the table others who offer different solutions. The klei kodesh scarcity affects every segment of Klal Yisrael and is currently on track to result in frightening outcomes.

THE PATH IS TOO VAGUE › A yungerman in the trenches

The discussion about leadership has garnered much attention in my kollel coffee room. I would like to share my analysis of the situation from the trenches.

I know many yungeleit in their late twenties to early thirties who would fit the description of “future leaders.” They are smart, charismatic, serious, and great communicators. I do not believe that the issue is that leadership is not being cultivated — for the simple reason that leadership skills are mostly inborn. Most future leaders were already forming their classes’ teams during recess in grade school. Even while in kollel, there are many opportunities to hone leadership skills by helping others and conducting some small-scale askanus.

I would posit that the true question is: Where are the leaders? Many potential leaders who I discussed this with were shocked to hear that there are so many positions currently available. The reason for this disconnect is because the greatest pool of young talent is found in Lakewood, Monsey, and Eretz Yisrael. In these places there is a reverse crisis. There is a shortage of positions for capable yungeleit.

The solution seems obvious: These talented yungeleit need to move out of the young population centers in order to fill these positions. But it’s not that simple. Firstly, many of these yungeleit do not have the proper upbringing and chinuch to be effective leaders outside of Lakewood and Monsey.

Beyond that, even among those who are passionate enough to clear those hurdles, the path to leadership is simply too vague. No yeshivah, shul, or organization would be willing to hire someone straight out of kollel with little or no experience — no matter how talented and passionate he may be. However, after learning seven-plus years in kollel, it is very difficult to move a young family out of a frum population center in order to take an entry-level position that has no guarantee of reaching the end goal. It is also not a great solution to wait it out “in town.” As time moves on, one’s passion wanes and family grows, making it even less realistic to move out.

I do not see any clear solution to this issue. Perhaps creating more internship opportunities similar to those that exist for law and medical students would help. This would allow yungeleit to gain much-needed experience and also showcase their unique talents.

PARENTS, LET THEM LEAD! › A parent and mechaneches

As a mother and teacher intimately familiar with the school system, I am watching a worrying pattern emerge. In conversations with rabbanim, principals, and menahalim, I have been hearing an outsize fear of the people they are serving. In a world that has turned upside down, with rabbanim fearing their congregants, principals afraid of the school’s parent body, and menahalim worried about enrollment numbers, it has become a game of “he who screams loudest wins.”

The existing school framework was established many years ago to accommodate the needs of the previous generations and has done so beautifully to a large extent. But the world as we know it has changed drastically, and so have the people. To quote a venerable rosh yeshivah, “Today’s teens are not better or worse [than previous generations], they are a completely new creation….” Therefore, it stands to reason, they require a completely different set of tools.

What students have received by osmosis in the past may no longer work in this society of new family dynamics, technological revolutions, and many other factors. The need to reevaluate and readjust is great. The existing school system’s inadequacy in addressing the needs of today is resulting in a fallout whose price is too large to calculate.

Many rabbanim and principals recognize the chinuch issues we are currently experiencing but feel so limited in their ability to bring about the needed changes because of a paralyzing pressure created by the “Parent Body” they are serving. New ideas may meet resistance or vocal complaints to board members, so, at the end of the day, the school is in essence being run not by mechanchim, but by the parent who screams the loudest.

To be a real leader today requires a tenacity and willpower and a level of unparalleled mesirus nefesh to do what needs to be done without fear. Parents and balabatim need to understand that to continue this status quo is the easier and simpler way. To keep things running smoothly, smiling away all problems so as not to rock the boat, may earn one credit in the PR department — but not where it really counts.

When a principal or menahel is driven out of their comfort zone because their sense of achrayus is big and they are ready to tackle problems at its root, they need you. You is every parent who has a child in the school system. A child who deserves a real Jewish education. A wholesome chinuch that leaves no gaps through which to fall.

When a principal says “hineni” — I am here to take responsibility — support him. Encourage him. Trust him. Give him that ability to do. It may take some time to see results, it may take some fine-tuning and tweaking, but only with the chizuk of those he serves can he be a real leader.

WE NEED TO MAKE MONEY › A high school teacher who knows

I am a young woman a few years out of seminary who is currently a high school mechaneches, and I must admit that when Rabbi Neuberger’s and Yisroel Besser’s assessments are applied to the world of girls, I do not find those assessments to be accurate explanations as to why there is a shortage of teachers.

After all, in contrast to the lack of summer leadership opportunities for bochurim that Rabbi Neuberger points out, there are hundreds of camp counselor/head positions filled by Bais Yaakov girls every summer. And in my experience working in four very different schools, I have never found a morah who (as Yisroel Besser describes about rebbeim) felt that she could not implement her creative and innovative ideas — just the opposite, in fact.

However, Alexandra Fleksher’s point about the dismal salaries of our teachers hit the nail on the head. Recently I was at a meeting where the menaheles was decrying the lack of applicants for teaching positions, and all I could think was, Well, we do send the girls to seminaries that portray — albeit rightly so — supporting a husband in kollel as an ultimate goal, and chinuch salaries don’t dovetail with that. A very large number of my friends and former classmates who decided not to go into chinuch did so because of purely financial considerations; one friend even told me point-blank, “I can’t go into teaching. I need to make money if I want to marry a learning boy.”

And I have heard from my out-of-town friends many times about an additional reason why out-of-town girls in particular are avoiding chinuch positions like the plague. That reason is Lakewood. A sky-high percentage of out-of-town Bais Yaakov graduates end up moving to Lakewood immediately after their chasunah, and the word on the street is that as hard as it may be for a Lakewood native to find a teaching position there, it is close to impossible for a newcomer from out of town to do the same.

So what motivation is there for a girl to become a teacher in her out-of-town community after seminary if she knows that she may very well have to find a different career as soon as there is a sheitel on her head? Common sense would dictate that she invest herself in amassing experience in a field that is always looking to hire in Lakewood (like bookkeeping or secretarial work), as having prior work experience will almost automatically translate into a higher starting salary at whatever desperate-for-workers Lakewood office she ends up joining down the line.

DIFFERENT REASONS › A former morah

I write this as one who worked in the chinuch world and left, and whose husband left, too. I want to offer our differing perspectives.

My dream was to be a teacher. I loved people, I loved to teach, and I was creative. My goal in choosing a seminary 20 years ago was to find one that offered the best teacher training possible. There was no other job I wanted.

I landed a fantastic teaching job right out of seminary and my pay was… $200 a week. I supplemented by tutoring and all was great. I got married and continued to teach. We moved to another neighborhood and I was fortunate to get a job there quickly. I got $230 a week and by year three I was writing curriculum guides for the parallel classes and was getting paid $320 a week.

We were not making ends meet (one of those rare unsupported kollel couples) and so both my husband and I began tutoring. Five years into my teaching (and now making $1,350 a month), my husband applied to and got a rebbi position. His starting salary: $3,300 a month. That was my first impetus to leave. I had five years’ experience and was making 60 percent less than my husband was being offered on a starter salary. No go.

Additionally, childcare expenses were growing — this made no financial sense. I was approached by a company that wanted someone with my background in education to assist with a new project. My new salary was only about 25 percent more, but the hours were shorter and I wouldn’t have to stay up late marking tests.

I stayed at that job for nearly a decade before pivoting an education-minded nonprofit. My current salary is about four times what my colleagues who stayed in teaching are currently getting.

My husband’s journey was different. He taught and loved his talmidim, but had a challenging time with principals who thought he should just take techniques that worked for kitah gimmel and try to apply them to eighth grade. My husband felt differently and developed new approaches. The students were growing, the parents were thrilled — but the menahel did not like the chiddushim.

My husband kept at it and tried to ignore the menahel’s criticism, but the stress ate at him slowly. A decade in, he left. He realized that he wanted to still deal with children and teens but the classroom was too confining and so he went to school, got a master’s degree in social work — and found that the clinics are full of men like him in their thirties, forties, and fifties who were rebbeim and realized if they wanted flexible hours, better pay, and the ability to still interact with children… this was the way to go.

After a recent meeting with some mental-health professionals with a background in chinuch, these men realized that they’d made their career shift due to feeling their wings were clipped, feeling they couldn’t continue a life that required six days a week in the classroom with nearly no breaks plus work at home… and a general lack of positive feedback from the hanhalah.

After my husband shared this with me, I spoke to many of my friends who, like me, have left the field. I found that we had different motivations for leaving. For us it was almost always about money, money, and money. Girls’ morahs are not just underpaid — they are underpaid even by our yeshivah standards, because schools are willing to hire young girls looking for experience at any price. As that pool narrows, my hope is that schools will show appreciation to their staff and retain them more.

A year ago I was asked to sub a high school class for six weeks. The time frame was outside of my work hours and so for the kicks of it, I did it. I absolutely loved it. Teaching has an addictive edge to it when it is your passion. But there is no way I could devote my life to teaching and still make ends meet.

REALITY CHECK › An idealistic but struggling teacher

As a teacher, I have long ago made peace with the fact that teaching doesn’t equal financial security. But the tone of Mrs. Fleksher’s article suggests that she really doesn’t realize how little teachers make.

“But if someone did the math and realized a career in chinuch didn’t add up to support a frum lifestyle, that would be a crime…And if the bottom line is what’s keeping our best and our brightest away from klei kodesh…” If someone did the math? Maybe it’s just that the best and brightest of Klal Yisrael are smart enough to realize that a full-time teaching job from 8:30 to 4:00 (with after-hours grading, lesson planning, student meetings, parent meetings, teacher meetings, PTA, and report cards) and a $40K pre-taxes salary cannot support a family of any size. Realistically, most morahs and teachers work half a day, so that’s a nice gross $20K to support the family. And if you’re single, in some places you can expect a whopping $12K — for the entire year. I know, because I made that much for several years as a single teacher.

And as a married educator (Young! Energetic! Idealistic!) with a master’s degree in education and with over ten years of experience, I currently make a measly $21K. I supplement that income with tutoring, running camps, working on Sundays, and, no, my husband can’t stay in kollel. He works full-time, too.

Does chinuch add up to support a frum lifestyle? No. Is it a crime? Yes.

So where have all the good teachers gone? Anywhere else, Mrs. Fleksher. Anywhere else.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 870)

The post Lonely at the Top: The conversation continues, part 2    first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Gratitude Matters — Richard Altabe

I read the series “Lonely at the Top” with great interest. Though the article touches on the challenges of finding quality candidates for open positions in chinuch, it misses the core of the issue.

I am opposed to the formal declaration of a new crisis in Klal Yisrael. Every previous crisis spawned many articles and led to the formation of multiple organizations, but unfortunately the “crisis du jour” was never solved. Why? Because by creating organizations to “fix” the crisis, the burden was taken off the individual member of the klal. New crisis? New askanim, new organizations. Solved? Not really. (Case in point: If every member of Klal Yisrael worked to find shidduchim for singles, would there still be a shidduch crisis?)

So before making the teacher shortage into a crisis, I ask the following: How many readers of this magazine with children in yeshivah this past year took the time to write a note of appreciation to their child’s rebbi, morah, or teacher? In a year when teachers were asked to do more than ever before, how many received even verbal accolades or a small end-of-year gift? (Rebbeim I know say that the number of thank-yous from parents has decreased from years past. This statistic is bolstered by recent articles in secular media that decry the lack of gratitude people have for their children’s teachers.)

Parents need to know a basic fact: Gratitude matters. Gratitude gives a mechanech a sense of pride and value. True, organizations like Chasdei Lev do incredible work in giving rebbeim and moros much chizuk and support, but that chizuk is valued even more when it comes from parents.

Recent research presented in a course I’m taking this summer through Yale University noted that when teachers were asked asked what they wanted to feel right now, the number-one answer was appreciation. In a year when our educators had to stretch themselves like never before, the lack of value our society places on those who choose teaching as a profession is especially painful. It behooves each of us to appreciate and value those who dedicate their lives to educating our youth.

Now that you’ve all been inspired to personally take responsibility for this issue by simply taking the time to give your child’s rebbi and teacher the accolades they deserve, let’s take the value issue a step further.

The kollel system could be a wonderful tool to produce the mechanchim we desperately need. Certain yeshivos, like Yeshiva Chofetz Chaim (and its many branches), take pride in the special mechanchim and chinuch administrators they have produced over the decades. Today, however, in many yeshivos, a young man leaving kollel, even to take a job in chinuch of younger children, administration or kiruv, feels like he is taking a step down. Doing so was never the goal or endgame of his kollel life. While the system nevertheless produces great and talented rebbeim, might it discourage one from entering the world of kiruv or becoming a chinuch administrator?

The shidduch system is equally to blame. The Bais Yaakov movement was originally created to produce women who had the yiras Shamayim and dedication necessary to value a boy who dedicated his life to Torah. Bais Yaakov trained women to be the moros of Klal Yisrael, living inspirational lives dedicated to chinuch and limud Torah. Today, because of our emphasis in keeping our young men in kollel, the Bais Yaakov girl realizes that her family will not be able to live on a teacher’s salary and may seek other employment that provides for greater earning power. It is therefore no surprise that young girls returning from seminary are unwilling to take teacher’s assistant jobs. I was even told that being an assistant teacher is a negative strike on a shidduch résumé.

A system that devalues the women who go into teaching as being incapable of earning enough money to support a kollel family is not simply a system in crisis; it is a system that tells its future talent to pursue higher paying professions.

Of course, teacher salaries need to be increased. The reason they’ve been kept low has been because of another crisis, the tuition crisis. Yeshivos have tried to keep tuition low and have cut costs wherever possible to avoid passing on the increased costs to the parents. While that is an admirable goal, if we keep teacher salaries below market value, we are again sending the message that there is no value in chinuch.

Consider the following: At $15 an hour, a full-day assistant earns about $20,000 per year. Once upon a time, a $20,000 salary for a young woman returning from seminary was considered good pay. Today, however, with $15-an-hour minimum wage, what message are we sending future mechanchim when the entry level position is paid the same as a minimum wage job?!

Finally, besides the lack of gratitude and the lack of finances, do we realize the damage created when we devalue our mechanchim in parent WhatsApp chats? Do we understand the churban we create when our Shabbos table talk becomes a critique of a particular rebbi or morah?

We are not facing a crisis that requires the creation of yet another new organization. Perhaps we simply need to rethink the value we place on chinuch and mechanchim — and the chizuk and gratitude must come from each and every one of us in any way possible. Chinuch is still a value, both for those leaving kollel and for those who marry kollel husbands. That value should be demonstrated by giving these essential men and women the salaries they deserve, and by honoring, respecting and revering those who choose chinuch as their life’s work.

Leader of the Troops — Rabbi Yechiel Spero

With his finger on the pulse of the Jewish community, Yisroel Besser has once again penned a thoughtful yet provocative article, which is sure to ruffle some feathers. It certainly got me thinking.

He asks why so many positions of leadership within the community remain open, and he asserts that many individuals are afraid to climb the ladder, lest they step on the wrong set of toes. Perhaps.

But maybe there’s another possibility.

First, a disclaimer. Those who sacrifice time and finances to help schools and organizations are included in the brachah recited at the end of Shacharis on Shabbos: “HaKadosh Baruch Hu yeshaleim secharam.” So thank you for your dedication. The mosdos need you.

And now, I apologize for the abruptness, but please step aside; that’s where your decision-making in regard to the schools’ chinuch should stop.

Who is making the decisions when it comes to hiring for the higher-up positions of our schools? What qualifications do these individuals possess in order to hire? Better yet, what are they looking for when they hire a principal? Is it possible they lack direction and are shooting or hiring blindly? And who comprises these search committees?

Yisroel cited the example of those stuck in Triple-A affiliates, and captains, sergeants, and lieutenants languishing in the ranks. But who says education works the same way?

Here’s the point. Talented principals don’t necessarily need to have taught, and, perhaps more importantly, great teachers don’t necessarily make effective principals. Actually, as Rabbi Avrohom Neuberger suggests in his eye-opening article, the qualifications for one have little to do with the other.

Ask search committee members about the number-one quality they seek in a potential hire. They may suggest pedagogical expertise or cite a degree in education. Yet that’s not the number-one need; I’m not sure it’s a need at all. A benefit, though not a need.

When seeking a leader for a school, one must find a communicator who knows and understands the needs of children, rebbeim, and parents, one who balances those needs and juggles them accordingly.

The key word is communicator.

As a leader, a menahel must care deeply about the concerns, worries, and anxieties of his students and staff members and effectively address those concerns, while maintaining the dignity and honor of all involved. He must know how to compliment and praise (and be specific) and if not, then find another job. For despite his educational prowess, he doesn’t belong in the principal chair.

That is not necessarily the trait found in great mechanchim and mechanchos. They possess patience and love. And passion for what they do. Heavy doses of it. Sadly, they commit to live with less and smile through it. They are superheroes.

A menahel knows this and acts accordingly. He hires the experts and supports them in any way he can. Never overstepping. Never ignoring.

A menahel must spot when a teacher is having a bad day and find out why. Offer to help. Give an encouraging word. Slip in an extra check to help him get through tough times. Maybe suggest a day off with an offer to pay for an evening out.

Principals view the big picture. They don’t become rattled by uncertainty; they seize the moment and lead by example. They infuse the school with confidence and create a joyful and happy environment. They motivate and inspire.

Additionally, a menahel protects his rebbeim and teachers, validating them and backing them unconditionally, even when they may be in the wrong. He takes the hit for them, and then addresses the issue privately — but always defends his troops.

He is a general, a leader.

When naysayers stop believing in a student, he shows them how to see the good in that child and then fights for that child with every ounce of belief he possesses.

This does not diminish the greatness of a rebbi or morah. In fact, a great menahel understands that the expert in chinuch may be the rebbi. He may, in fact, have more expertise than the menahel, and the menahel treats him as such.

And as Yisroel mentioned, he is not intimidated by someone with greater qualities. He compliments his teachers and rewards them often. Knows the names of his talmidim. Works with parents. Guides them. And learns from them.

Parents will have worries and concerns, some legitimate, some less so. But all parents need a vote of reassurance.

This is the hallmark of a great menahel.

We must find leaders of people.

And follow their lead.

Just curious if that’s what the search committee had in mind.

The Real Reason — Name Withheld

As a seventh-grade rebbi in the Tristate area, I read your feature on the leadership vacuum with great interest. As an insider, I would like to share my perspective.

Mrs. Fleksher is spot on. I teach in a balabatish yeshivah that charges a higher tuition than most yeshivos. Usually my classes have between 22 and 26 boys in the class, sometimes more, sometimes less. Carrying that many worlds in your hands for six hours a day — teaching them, nurturing them, infusing them with a love of Yiddishkeit, raising their learning skills — is a full-time job. The yeshivah expects it to be as well, expecting us to be responsive to parents at night (which of course we should be, as they’re partners in their children’s education) and constantly innovating programs and worksheets.

So why does the yeshivah pay us as part-time employees? A veteran rebbi in our yeshivah earns between the high $50Ks and the low $60Ks, depending on certain bonuses. That’s right in the middle of industry standards.

I am a professional rebbi who provides a benefit to the parents, way more than I get compensated for. The parents are paying for that benefit. It would make sense that the salary should be to some degree commensurate to what I am providing. Instead I work three jobs and sometimes tutor at night to make ends meet.

Do I need to get a job as a cashier in the local grocery store for people to realize there is something wrong here?

There is a feeling among some rebbeim that the yeshivos are taking advantage of our idealism to underpay us for what we do. I don’t blame someone who is suited for klal work but won’t do it, knowing that it will just get harder and harder to provide for a family.

On the flip side, we are so grateful for the support the community provides to help us remain mechanchim. We are aware that others struggle as well, and don’t have the advantage of receiving extra help with the same dignity that we do. But we also know that the service we provide is valuable enough that we should not need handouts.

Which brings me to Rabbi Besser’s point. I see what pressure my menahel goes through. Budgeting, overseeing rebbeim, dealing with students — it’s an incredibly difficult job. The way I and a lot of rebbeim see it is that if we are going to be underpaid and dealing with people’s foibles and expectations, which everyone in klal work is, we’d rather be doing it actually teaching Torah.

Getting to teach Gemara, Mishnayos, and everything else every day is such a privilege. I love what I do! I would never want to switch it for a klal job that a) underpays; b) has people getting mad at you, which always happens when you are in a position of helping others; and c) doesn’t allow you to sit in a beis medrash or a classroom with a sefer and kinderlach, which is what it’s ultimately all about.

When I was offered a job as a rebbi, I went to my own rebbi and asked if I should take this job, knowing it would not provide for my family in the long run. He told me I needed to look at it not as a lifelong career choice, but as a year-by-year decision. Every year I get to teach Torah is an immeasurable gift to me and my family. So far it’s been close to ten years, and I take it year by year still.

So there is your answer. We don’t pursue leadership positions not because we’re scared to shine or skeptical whether our talents will be appreciated. It’s because if we are going to be grossly underpaid and financially disrespected while doing intense klal work, we’d rather do it teaching Torah.

Choosing Not to Rise — M. G.

Thank you for a fabulous magazine that is enjoyed by our entire family.

As I am a high school mechaneches, “Lonely at the Top” immediately grabbed my attention. I applaud Alexandra Fleksher for her quest to make chinuch a “real option” for our “best and brightest.” It can’t be said enough: Klal Yisrael needs qualified and talented teachers now more than ever before. I am quite sure Sarah Schneirer would agree.

In response to Yisroel Besser’s question as to why people in chinuch are not rising to the top, I’d like to share a personal take.

As a mechaneches in a prestigious out-of-town high school, I am in this position because I am drawn to the beauty of Torah and I consider it a privilege to be able to pass this down to my beloved students, who are the very future of Klal Yisrael. Yet I must tell you, as someone who generally aims for the top, I have learned early on that I cannot do so in this area of my life — and not due to a lack of creativity or because I am “scared to shine.”

Several years ago I was sitting at the graduation of our senior class. I found myself wondering, “Did I make enough of a difference to each one of these girls? Could I have done more?” The past four years suddenly seemed too short and I hoped that I had given it my all. And then, like a bolt of lightning, another thought hit me. The very next day was to be my oldest son’s eighth-grade graduation. And I realized that these same questions were going to hit me the next night... And at his 12th grade graduation... And at his chuppah b’ezras Hashem. “Did I do enough? Could I have done more? Did I give it my all?” And that question would repeat itself for each one of my precious children.

At that point, I knew with absolute clarity what I wanted the answers to be. That’s when I realized that I was not going to soar to the top of my teaching “career” (if you want to call it that) — because there are some very significant people who come first in my life, before my precious students. And I want my students to take the same approach in their lives, whether they become teachers, lawyers, or accountants.

So in answer to Yisroel Besser’s question as to why a mechaneches may be failing to “rise to the top,” I have an answer for you. As Gary Keller quotes John Carmack in his best-seller The One Thing, “Focus is a matter of deciding the things you’re not going to do.” And so, I remain a star at Triple-A. Let someone else fill the major league vacancy.

Scared to shine? You tell me.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 869)

The post Lonely at the Top: The conversation continues first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

The conversation surrounding widespread digital distribution of shidduch photos has only gotten more passionate with the publication of Rochi Kichel’s shidduch-photo saga. Here is a sample of the letters we received

KEEP ASKING FOR PHOTOS: R.D., Miami

Thank you to Mishpacha for facilitating this important discussion regarding shidduch photos. I used to be opposed to the idea of boys asking to see photos, but after reading the letter from “Bochur in Shidduchim,” I have changed my mind.

“Bochur in Shidduchim” makes the point that when boys ask for pictures, it can save both the boy and the girl a lot of time, since if it’s not shayach, it can be nixed from the start.

As a mother of a daughter in shiddduchim, I cannot agree more that the practice of asking for pictures would save a lot of time and heartache.

Recently, when a shadchan asked for a picture of my daughter, saying that some boys, or mothers of boys, will not look into my daughter without first seeing her photo, I told her, “Excellent, then those boys are not for us. A boy who insists on a picture is a shidduch we want to stay far away from, so that actually saves me time from researching a shidduch that is obviously not shayach.”

My daughter in shidduchim is ehrlich, refined, bright, and beautiful — both inside and out — and I would never want her to end up with a guy who only agreed to date her because she passed his “pretty test,” or is in a family that espouses this value system.

And so I encourage those boys who feel the same as the letter writer to continue asking for pictures, as a quick and easy way to weed out those boys and those families who are not for us.

PITIFUL PRIORITIES: A Rebbi

The letter from “a bochur in shidduchim” requires a response from this rebbi. As someone who deals with beis medrash bochurim and is involved with their shidduchim, I felt compelled to write this letter.

I read the young writer’s equivalency between girls suffering without dates and his “pain.” This bochur seemed to miss a pretty pashut chiluk, a clear distinction: There’s no comparison between a pauper who has no money and a gvir who doesn’t know what to do with it.

Worse, this bochur doesn’t realize the tzniyus degradation he perpetrates by insisting on seeing girls’ pictures (even if you believe that he erases after looking). This automatically makes a girl’s appearance a top priority — which is also this bochur’s greatest flaw. Oozing out of this letter is his unabashed belief that to “be shayach” for him, a girl has to meet his superficial criteria of beauty. He is not measuring her middos and dei’os with that picture.

This reminds me of a story. A bochur was making his case to Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky ztz”l why he needed to marry a very pretty girl. The gadol hador heard him out and agreed. Based on all of his “needs,” Rav Yaakov said, takeh he will have to pick a pretty girl even over a great tzadeikes. But it’s a rachmanus!

Likewise, this bochur needs a rebbi not just to hear him out, but also to be brave enough to tell him how much of a rachmanus case he has become, even with his long list of girls’ names.

May we merit the day soon that Hashem sends a yeshuah for all our problems in shidduchim, those of the girls and those of these boys.

CULTURE CLASH: Wondering

I don’t want to write to the bochur who finds it painful to be inundated with résumés and feels duped by girls who he thinks look better in pictures than in real life. I’m writing because I need answers from his parents and rebbeim, who created a reality where this boy has these opinions and has pictures of girls on his phone (don’t worry, he just glances down and then deletes them).

As the Kichels highlighted, I’ve been taught since preschool that bnos Yisrael are not hefker. I have struggled and won battles to dress more modestly, I have sacrificed inches of hair, learned hilchos tzniyus, given up clothes I love — for what? For the “privilege” of going out with a bochur who with one glance at his phone, has cheapened all of that? Is this my value?

Why are we teaching girls to be tzniyusdig, but not teaching the boys to value that tzniyus? Where are the rabbanim saying this is wrong, we don’t do this in our yeshivah? Why are we raising such amazing tzniyus girls, but not raising boys on the same caliber?

NO JUSTIFICATION: A mother of boys, Passaic, NJ

Mr. Bochur in Shidduchim, thank you for proving to us why our daughters should not be sending out pictures.

Requiring girls to vulgarize themselves by sending out pictures that get forwarded online multiple times is against all the principles with which we raise them, but somehow for a shidduch it is deemed okay to dismiss a value that is one of the most prized values of Jewish girls and women throughout the ages.

Shadchanim and mothers of boys have justified this practice with excuses of practical logistics. I personally believe this benefit does not outweigh the resultant degradation to our girls.

But there is simply no justification whatsoever for a boy himself to have pictures of girls on his phone to look at and determine which one might satisfy him more — even if it is just to “look at the picture for a few seconds and decide if there is potential and promptly erase it.”

So girls, if you are feeling pressure to cave in to this ignoble demand, know this: When I see families that refuse to cheapen their daughters by sending out pictures, I whip their résumés right up to the top of my list.

CONVENIENCE AT WHAT PRICE?: S.B.

As a girl in shidduchim who baruch Hashem dates a lot, my immediate reaction to the letter from a bochur in shidduchim regarding résumé pictures was sympathy. I strongly relate to the frustration, wasted time, and dashed dreams that accompany each failed shidduch experience. According to this boy’s reasoning, if there is a way to avoid the headache and heartache in advance, then there is no reason not to pursue that avenue and save everyone energy.

Then I thought about it a bit more deeply. You know, it would be really convenient for me if I could informally meet the boys I date in advance, at a party or a Shabbos meal or a singles event. In some circles, and certainly in the non-Jewish world, this is considered standard. That would definitely save me the pain and frustration of going on a three-hour date with someone who is a complete mismatch in terms of hashkafah, personality, or physical attraction. However, as Torah Jews, we have certain standards and boundaries that are not crossed just because it would make things more convenient and comfortable for us.

It is beyond my comprehension why sending around full-body photos of heavily made-up girls to single men is not one of these boundaries. The fact that it has become socially acceptable in even the frummest of circles does not change the fact that it objectifies women, is completely degrading, and is a total breach of tzniyus. And please don’t tell us that it’s only for the shadchan or the mother of the boy — this bochur disabuses everyone of this notion, and while he is so noble as to only “look at it for a few seconds” and then promptly delete it, he also readily admits that there are boys who have “different pictures of girls” saved on their phones.

Bochur in Shidduchim, I understand that it is incredibly difficult to go on nonstarter dates that could have been avoided in the first place. Take one for the team — for the kedushah of Klal Yisrael, maybe it’s worth some wasted time and gas money.

NOT MY LOOK: Been There Done That

Dear Bochur in Shidduchim,

Just a little chizuk to help you give up the pictures. Let me share a personal experience.

I was from out of town living in Boro Park in my late 20s, fielding the various résumés and visiting shadchanim. From the over 150 girls of my dating career, I’ll never forget Raizy.

The moment l saw her my thoughts were how soon can l end this date and bring her home. She was not the “look” l had in mind. Lo and behold, 20 minutes into the date l was literally head over heels. Her all-around manner, the way she spoke, what she said, how she said it, l was farkoift. I knew the feeling was mutual when she nodded off on the drive home — something that wouldn’t happen if she wouldn’t feel totally comfortable and safe. To quote you, “you cannot pick up personality from a photo.” Hers shot forth with intense brightness, overshadowing the drawbacks of my first impression.

After half-a-dozen dates, my father decided he’d better check out her family and got my New York aunt involved. To my dismay, she unearthed debilitating information about this girl’s family that spelled doom to my growing dreams of starting my own family.

The lesson l learned was “pictures do not do justice.”

Finally, your reasoning for perusing photos “just to see if it’s shayach” is just a ploy to outmaneuver Hashem. “Oh, I will save so many dates if only I see a picture” you say — when the emes is you will still have to date the same amount of girls anyway, picture or no picture.

Worse, you can end up the big loser by rejecting your bashert because of an unflattering pose.

THAT MAGICAL QUALITY: M’nucha Bialik

Like the author of the letter I’m responding to, I have never responded to any letters or articles written in a magazine. But as a shidduch coach and a former “older single” (before the term “shidduch crisis” was even coined), I feel that I must reply to the letter written by “A Bochur in Shidduchim,” who touched on the crux of the entire shidduch-résumé/photo dilemma.

The way I see it, there are several points that need to be addressed:

1. Is sharing a girl’s photo to determine if a boy will be attracted to her demeaning, humiliating, and immodest?
2. Is potentially saving a girl (and a boy) from a “one-and-done date” (including the time, expenses, and emotional energy incurred) worth doing something that most girls would describe as demeaning, humiliating, and immodest?

So the question that this bochur and others are really asking: If showing photos can get more people married (plus, hopefully, prevent bad dates), then wouldn’t the gain (marriage) outweigh the pain (girls sending their photos)?

Now, that would have to be a halachic question raised to a true gadol who understands the complexity of these issues. Are there halachic ramifications of a boy (especially a ben Torah or “yeshivah guy”) looking at girls’ pictures? Is it actually immodest to show one’s picture for the purpose of deciding if someone will be attracted to them or not? Are there different parameters for those who are serious bnei Torah or for those who aren’t? Is one permitted to do something that causes another person pain if it ultimately will be for their benefit or someone’s benefit in the end? Does the end justify the means?

These are tough questions that can only be answered by a gadol.

However, I think that we don’t even have to grapple with these difficult questions because they are actually based on a mistaken premise.

I believe that in our generation, we have lost the art of shidduch dating. There’s a lot of confusion out there about what is the Jewish way of dating. As an aside, I truly believe this young man (and many others like him) to be sincere, ehrlich, a ben Torah, and someone who desires a genuine relationship with his wife. I am sure that he and most people realize that a man and a woman must like each other, value each other, enjoy each other’s company, and share certain compatible hashkafos, values, and goals. And, in addition, he is right: Both men and women need to feel some sort of attraction to each other.

But here is where singles (and unfortunately, many married people as well) have gotten confused. As Torah Jews, the attraction we need and are looking for is not something that can be seen in a picture. Here is a Hebrew term for what we are looking for — and that is that the person is “motzei chein b’einai.”

We see this concept throughout the Torah. We are actually attracted to a person’s chein. People generally translate that as “charm,” which sounds a bit magical. In fact, this chein is not something physical — it’s something spiritual, which Hashem put into man and woman, so that their neshamah will actually recognize and be attracted to their zivug.

It is not something that a person can see in a picture; it’s not something that a mother can see for her son; it’s something that a person must experience.

I know that this bochur and his friends and the many girls I have met have not experienced this yet so they don’t know what I’m talking about. Not ever having experienced and felt what chein is, they may even mistakenly believe that the beginning stage of marriage actually starts with physical attraction. Furthermore, many of the mothers (and fathers) who have experienced chein didn’t consciously know what they felt because it’s something spiritual and metaphysical. And whether a person was conscious of it or not, they felt it. They might have called it physical attraction, but that’s not really what it was.

There is something that draws us to other people — it’s their personality, their smile, their energy, their entire self; the way they think, the way they feel, the way they laugh, who they are — that we are attracted to.

I, along with many shadchanim, have known many, many boys and girls who were dating and did not like the other person’s looks. Yet they were still drawn to the other person. They kept dating and dating and slowly but surely, they started to like the other person’s smile or eyes or cuteness or couldn’t even tell if the person was good-looking or not, because they just liked the other person. They felt their chein.

I have known people who didn’t date a person at first because of their picture, only to finally date the person and think them to be beautiful or good-looking. This, by the way, applies to both boys and girls. I have had both boys and girls tell me that they found the person they were dating unattractive, but they would go out again because they liked the person’s personality and hashkafos. I have encouraged people to keep dating under these circumstances. Either they will start to feel nauseous, bored, and completely uninterested if they keep dating — or they will start to notice that the boy has a nice smile, the girl has an adorable laugh, and they will start liking the other person more and more.

This “magic,” this chein, can NEVER, EVER be seen in a picture.

As somebody who has accompanied many singles on their journey to find their bashert and having been through it myself, I feel the pain of these young men and women. And I would do anything that would make it easier for them to find their zivug (assuming it was halachically permissible). But seeing each other’s pictures doesn’t help. It only hinders, as a person might actually miss out on their bashert and years of happiness because they said “no” based on a picture.

Like the bochur in shidduchim, I too will end this letter with the brachah: May all singles find and recognize their bashert b’karov!

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 850)

The post Shidduch Photos: the conversation continues  first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

The conversation surrounding widespread digital distribution of shidduch photos has only gotten more passionate with the publication of Rochi Kichel’s shidduch-photo saga. Here is a sample of the letters we received

HOW CHANGE HAPPENS› One Mother

Dear Rochi Kichel,

How I laughed, cried, and sighed when I read your latest shidduch episode. You may not believe it, but the same thing happened to my daughter! The shadchan begged for a picture “just for herself.” Then she sent it to someone who sent it out to a bunch of people. Eventually the picture ended up getting sent to my daughter — who then had a major waterfall. No — a tsunami!

What is the solution to this tzniyus breach? The good news is that mothers of boys tend to also be mothers of girls. As Rav Yisrael Salanter says, we cannot change the world; at most we can only change ourselves.

When my son was in shidduchim, I did not ask for a picture. I’m just one mother, but that is how change happens. One mother at a time.

Dear mothers, we can change the status quo if we only have the will to do it. To the Rochis out there, take heart: My daughter did get married in the end.

HORRENDOUS CORRUPTION› Chaim Zvi Lebovits, Toronto

I find the letter from the “anonymous bochur in shidduchim” disturbing for several reasons. Anonymous letters have little weight, as the author doesn’t have the courage to stand exposed behind his opinion.

More disturbing than his self-appointed spokesman status is the idea that the opinion of yeshivah bochurim is to be considered at all. Do we ask them to determine the schedule of learning and davening in yeshivah? Do we ask them the proper dress code for a bochur?

The hanhalah who get their hadrachah from chachamim and rabbanim are the ones who make those decisions. So too the issues of holiness and tzniyus are not in the purview of yeshivah bochurim, but the chachamim and rabbanim.

I am 47 and only in a position to speak for my family. Educated by Reb Dovid Noach Kaplan and by Rav Scheinberg, I will say what I believe.

Are the areas of holiness and tzniyus to be left only for the chassidim? Do we in the yeshivah world not value them as well?

Chassidim would never entertain such a breach in their hanhagas hachayim. To allow and even promote the idea that pictures of young erliche women should be traded and available in a public forum is for perutzim and perutzos. To say that this that this is necessary because it saves a bochur time is a horrendous corruption of priorities.

This fellow has shown only how his opinion is based solely on his agenda, not taking anyone or anything else into the picture. This, to me, is the very definition of immaturity. For all he cares, the foremost trait of bnei Yisrael — being baishanim — can be destroyed.

As an aside, my wife and I saw our two daughters-in-law for the first time when my sons decided they were bashert.

NOT A BASIS FOR MARRIAGE› Someone who’s seen an alternative that works

I’ve been following the back and forth about shidduch-résumé photos. I would like to share that here in Israel, in most communities, we do not put photos on our résumés and it works beautifully.

I agree that attraction is a key factor in marriage, but it is not what a marriage should be based on. An ideal marriage should be based on shared goals and values.

The letter writer who signed off as “a bochur in shidduchim” said, “Yes, we know that for some reason girls send out pictures of themselves that don’t do themselves justice. We also know that many times the opposite is true — they send pictures that look much better than their actual appearance (which happens to be counterproductive, as a boy who sees the picture and then meets her will be disappointed).”

This only proves my point further. These photos won’t benefit you in any way. You will either be disappointed after meeting a girl who doesn’t match her photo, or you’ll nix a prospective shidduch who may just not be photogenic.

A marriage based on attraction alone will just put you into shock when you realize that as people get older, they change and don’t always look the way they did on their shidduch résumé 30 years earlier.

I would like to suggest that those of you who voiced your opinion against shidduch-résumé photos, but live somewhere that “enforces” them should really try and do something about this issue — as a team. Much hatzlachah!

WE CAN END IT TOGETHER› On Your Side

I have been involved in shidduchim for almost 25 years and I am completely opposed to pictures. I have the backing of my rav, a talmid of Rav Moshe, whose opinion he espouses. Who has the audacity to argue with Rav Moshe?

S.M., I am so sorry for you and your friends having to go through this. It makes no sense hashkafically. Please know there are shadchanim out there who do not request pictures, and plenty of girls who send me their résumé sans a photo. If someone requests one from me, I simply respond, “I don’t do pictures.”

I’m left to wonder in whose hands the solution rests. What if girls stopped sending pictures? If the shadchan says he/she only works with girls with pictures, then maybe we need to empower our girls and their parents to decline their help. What if girls only worked with shadchanim who don’t demand pictures? A message will spread: We’re done with this awful breach of tzniyus.

Hashem will not disappoint those who are tzanuah and do the right thing. In my day (25 years go) there were no résumés or pictures and we all managed fine. We did have that “first phone call” — how awkward was that? We couldn’t stand it, but it was par for the course. Baruch Hashem, someone put an end to that pointless “minhag.” That gives me hope that we can do the same now regarding pictures.

I do have a question for these boys’ rebbeim. Numerous times I’ve had boys tell me, “My rebbi told me I don’t have to give a yes without a picture.” Why are you perpetuating this degradation, and what shallow message are you conveying to these boys? If collectively we get on the same page and girls and parents turn down shadchanim who demand pictures, while rebbeim get out there and decry this despicable practice and advise the boys accordingly, perhaps the shidduch crisis will diminish greatly.

I wish all singles much siyata d’Shmaya during this challenging journey.

I can be contacted through Mishpacha.

DEHUMANIZING PROCESS› S. M. J.

Mishpacha magazine has consistently provided a service to the community by airing important issues that need to be addressed. The Kichels showcasing our society’s treatment of our precious girls was no exception.

A recent serial in the Family First magazine, expertly written by Leah Gebber, brought an unfortunate period in our Jewish history to light. In this serial, young Jewish women were exploited and taken from their homes in the shtetl and subject to unspeakable horrors. Unfortunately, the atrocities were executed by fellow Jews.

The recent letter that you published, “Necessary and Justified,” made me think that perhaps we as a society have not come very far. Thank G-d, women are not being sold into slavery. But they are being objectified, treated by boys and shadchanim alike as props, or objects, rather than as the beautiful bnos Yisrael that they are.

The yeshivah bochur who authored the letter wrote of the “pain of being inundated with dozens of résumés,” thereby creating a process where bnos Yisrael are treated like cattle — with pictures sent around cyberspace, and boys can have their pick of the shiniest prize. It is beyond degrading. It is dehumanizing, and to me, eerily reminiscent of the terrible period in our Jewish history where women were treated as objects for sale.

It has been said that a society is judged by the way it treats women and girls. If that is the case, and young girls are treated as objects in our society, this does not bode well for our nation.

Thank you for bringing this important issue to light.

WHOSE EFFORT?› S.J. S.

Dear Bochur,

Wow, just wow. The tone of you letter just blew me away and not in a good way.

You need to see a girl’s picture because it helps you wade through the dozens and dozens of résumés you get? Even though you yourself admit the pictures leave a lot to be desired as far as depicting their subject fairly.

Let me tell you a story. Back in the Stone Age, when people had no pictures and no résumés (and everyone got married anyway) a bochur went to a shadchan and told her what he was looking for in a zivug: all the middos, the values, etc. Then he told her there was one more thing that he needed: He wanted her to be beautiful.

After he left, the shadchan didn’t know what to do. She had a girl in mind who had everything the bochur was looking for — except she wasn’t beautiful.

So she called her rav. He advised her to redt the shidduch.

After they got engaged, the bochur called the shadchan to thank her. “She is everything I was looking for,” he said, “and she is so beautiful.”

You write that at the end of the day, résumé pictures save so much effort and energy. Perhaps if you expended a little more effort and energy, you would meet your bashert sooner.

Wishing you much hatzlachah in your quest.

PASSING THE PRETTY TEST› Name Withheld

I’m writing in response to the bochur who sees shidduch pictures as justified. To say I’m appalled is an understatement; in fact, I am shaking with anger as I write this.

I’m sorry to be blunt, but a girl needing to pass your “pretty test” before you give her the time of day, despite the fact that it causes her to feel violated, is terrible no matter how eloquently you write it.

I would know. I’m one of those girls.

Our dignity should be worth more to you than a possible wasted date. Pictures teach girls that what they want is not important, that only what the boy wants is important: He must like your looks, he must be happy with you, but you wanted taller? Stop being so picky and give him a try!

Attraction is important, for both of us, but pictures aren’t accurate and it’s simply not worth the way it makes us feel.

SHALLOW VIEW› A girl in shidduchim

Last week’s letter from a single bochur explaining his reasoning for requesting shidduch pictures contains multiple problems. But the main one, to me, is his belief that attraction can be judged in a few seconds.

Seminary teachers, shadchanim, and various dating coaches have repeatedly told me that I do not need to consider physical attraction on a first date. It develops over time, I’m told. The definition of “later” varies, but it’s never earlier than three dates in.

I recognize that boys don’t go to seminary, but is no one telling them that this shallow, external view of instant compatibility is wrong?

I can’t change the system. But if girls will be forced to share their pictures, I see no reason that boys should not do the same. And if the idea of a girl judging his picture makes a boy uncomfortable, well, then maybe he shouldn’t be asking for pictures in the first place.

AGREE ON ONE THING› Mordechai Kushner, Wesley Hills, NY

I have been following the conversation regarding shidduch pictures in recent weeks. Clearly, there are reasonable arguments on both sides of the debate. Considering the broad spectrum of Mishpacha’s readership, it is probably unrealistic to expect a one-size-fits-all answer to this question in these pages.

That being the case, perhaps we can all agree on one thing: Everyone involved in shidduchim — including the singles, their parents, and the shadchanim — should be consulting with a trusted rav or rebbi for personalized hadrachah on this issue along with the many others that may come up while navigating through shidduchim.

Don’t just assume something is acceptable because you see other people doing it. They might not have thought to ask a sh’eilah, and even if they did, the right answer for them isn’t necessarily the right answer for you.

WE HAVE THE POWER› Shlomo Muska

To my fellow bochurim,

There is broad consensus among our rebbeim that our community’s approach to shidduchim has reached an inflection point. A girl in shidduchim is in a vulnerable position, often waiting weeks if not months between dates. It is utterly unconscionable to abandon an individual to fight the system alone. We need to step up and we need to do it now.

As those who ostensibly benefit from the disturbing practice of shidduch photos, we are uniquely positioned to put an end to it. Within our ranks there exists a critical mass who are disgusted by the present state of affairs. If we harness the power of our collective voice, we can effectuate meaningful and lasting change. All it takes is a simple conversation with our parents.

We can instruct them to respectfully inform shadchanim that we will no longer tolerate the wholesale degradation of bnos Yisrael. We need to communicate in no uncertain terms that photos are no longer welcome, and on the contrary, we would strongly prefer a girl courageous enough to buck the tide.

This effort can create a paradigm shift. Overnight, a girl’s convictions would be transformed from a liability to an asset, and more girls would have the confidence to embark on the dating process in a refined and dignified manner, as befitting a bas Melech.

For far too long girls have been told “this is how the system works.” But if girls are compelled to demean themselves, to the point that a professional-grade photograph is mandatory, the system is badly broken. As bnei yeshivah who aspire to build Torah-true homes, it behooves us to take a stand.

We can b’ezras Hashem ensure that generations of bnos Yisrael will not be subjected to the indignity of having their pictures tossed around like baseball cards. If you wish to join me in this effort, please reach out (I can be contacted through Mishpacha) and I will be happy to refer you to shadchanim who share this perspective.

May our resolve serve as a zechus for the shidduchim of Klal Yisrael.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 849)

The post Shidduch Photos: A Necessary Evil?   first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Alexandra Fleksher’s piece on “Orthonomics” — the vague economic system that seems to come along with the frum lifestyle — has drawn significant feedback. Below is a sampling

CHANGE OUR STYLE — R.N., Brooklyn, NY

Kudos to Ms. Fleksher for taking the thoughts that many of us have in our minds and speaking them out loud. I constantly say the same thing — how do frum families do it?

I personally have worked full time since before I was married, got a degree because my parents were able to put me through college, and by literally scrimping was able to support my husband in kollel for over six years. We did not receive any support, lived in a small basement until we grew out of there, bought an old car to get us around, didn’t buy expensive food or meat, didn’t travel much (if we did it was on a very low budget), and we made it through.

Now, with two tuitions to pay and more expenses as the kids grow, we are able to put aside and save, but only because of our frugal budget — hand-me-downs or cheap clothes, cheap car, and baruch Hashem my well-paying job. Yes, if my husband had been working right away, our budget would have been higher, but not enough to live on the high road.

I do sometimes feel like: What am I missing? How can I save more? How have people my age already purchased houses long ago while I’m still saving up for a down payment?

I know most of them had help from their parents, but aren’t their parents supporting their own families with their own mortgages? How long can this lifestyle last without passing on huge debts to the next generation?

I’d love to hear people come up with ideas or plans to help lower the bar of our high standards. It takes a core few to get started, but I’m sure we can do it. We can make it en vogue to find a bargain or to make it on a lower budget.

Looking forward to hearing opinions on this topic.

HOW DOES IT END? — A. A., New York

Thank you to Alexandra Flektsher for verbalizing what is in all of our heads: How exactly does this system work? To her questions I might add a philosophical question: How did it come to be that in a community that inherently has astronomically higher expenses just to meet the bare minimum necessities of life (large families, private-school tuition, big-city housing), we have somehow also evolved to demand a higher standard of living that everyone feels the need to live up to (stylish clothing, redone kitchens, upscale simchahs, luxury vacations)?

But I have a more practical — and more urgent — question as well. The debt cycle only goes so far. Eventually, most people do need to stop working and retire (even if, as I suspect, they work far past the age of 65). And then what? What are they living on? It would seem impossible for most families to save for retirement; if anything, they are likely retiring in debt from decades of tuition and weddings (even without counting luxuries). And even with the kids out of the house, a fixed social security income would not support a typical frum bubby-zeidy lifestyle — there are still Yamim Tovim, simchahs, and gifts, not to mention medical expenses and the other costs of aging.

Where are all the people who gave to their families above and beyond their means? Who is supporting them?

ALWAYS ONE ANSWER — C. I.

In Alexandra Fleksher’s piece “Fuzzy Math,” she raises some undeniably valid concerns about the unnecessary pressure placed on struggling families by the escalating lifestyle expectations of the frum world. While standards of living and the number of newly minted “necessities” certainly vary from one community to another, we all struggle on some level to strike the proper balance between providing our families with a sense of normalcy while fortifying them with the tools to live confidently and contentedly within their means.

Still, it seems to me that the question posed at the beginning of the piece — the mystery of how frum families actually do manage to survive and thrive despite the numbers never quite adding up — is not entirely related to the issues raised further on. As Ms. Fleksher herself realizes, “Orthonomics” is an unsolvable puzzle even for a household that does not aspire to “keep up with the Cohens”; the basics alone likely exceed the earning power of the vast majority of frum families.

This being the case, I was disturbed to see the words “It’s hard, they struggle, and Hashem always helps out” dismissed as a “pat solution” to this dilemma we all share. Could the fuzziness of the math not be a result of the limitless number of variables involved in every household’s equation, the only constant being the messenger of the “harbei shluchim la’Makom?” Might the “murkiness” of the mathematics not be similar to the equally mystifying puzzle of history: the secret of Jewish survival throughout the ages despite the odds stacked so heavily against us —a riddle solved by Hashem’s unique Hashgachah over His Nation, that defies all predictions and statistics?

Any frum family that manages to stay afloat (albeit just barely) has its share of stories that provide incontrovertible evidence of Hashem’s Hand in their finances. As I grappled with which of my own household’s or others’ myriad experiences to share, I perused Family First and struck gold: No need to look further than Faigy Peritzman’s Parshah piece in the very same issue and the fantastic examples she uses to prove this very point! In her succinct words: “The more you hear, the more you realize that the buck doesn’t stop here but rather Up There.”

Yes, the math of frum finances is unquestionably fuzzy, but only because of the factors that vary so greatly from one home to the next. Whether the solution takes the form of infinitely generous parents, a government stimulus check, an exquisitely well-timed bonus or job opportunity, or even a chesed organization, the answer to the equation is always One.

Fuzzy Math

PINPOINTING THE FEAR — Debbie B.

Thank you to Alexandra Fleksher for writing an article trying to expose (as you so aptly put it) the elephant in the room. Money fights and money stresses are one of the biggest causes of divorce in America today. Unfortunately, the frum community is not exempt from these stresses. For this reason, I am passionate about helping people understand the importance of creating a budget and living with it.

Two important topics come up when I talk to a couple about budgeting: fear, and bitachon and emunah. When we decide that Moishy “needs” a $500 suit for his bar mitzvah even if we can’t afford it, then this decision is motivated by fear. Behind all our little fears lies our biggest fear, which I call “The Mommy” fear. I always try to find out what my fears are by asking what this means or what will happen.

For example, if I don’t buy Moishy the $500 suit, what will happen? People will think we are poor (Fear #1). If people think we are poor, what will happen? No one will want to marry my kids (Fear #2). If no one wants to marry my kids, then what will happen? People will look at us and think we are nebachs (Fear #3). If people think we are nebachs, what does this mean? That we are worthless (the “Mommy” fear — the big, bad fear that dwarfs all the others). So we went from buying a suit to thinking we are worthless.

We will go to any lengths not to feel our “Mommy” fear, even if it means going into debt and hurting ourselves in other ways. The answer to this (and all) fear is emunah and bitachon. Hashem does not want us spending money we don’t have. He gives us the exact amount of money we need to have for the things we need to buy. We need to start trusting and relying on our loving Father and really believing that He knows what is best for us.

I beg all the wonderful readers of Mishpacha (and all of Klal Yisrael): Please work on a budget together with your spouse, spend only what Hashem, your loving Father, gives you — and start saying yes. Yes to a marriage that will bring the husband and wife closer than you ever thought possible. Yes to a life of peace. Yes to being able to walk down the street with your head held high instead of being downcast. Most importantly, yes to a life of being able to give lots of tzedakah and being able to help others.

Give it a try; if you find yourself miserable you can always go back to living above your means.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 848)

The post Fuzzy Math: The conversation continues first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Committed to Questions

Name Withheld

Having married off several children and currently in the parshah with another, I take very strong exception to Rabbi Efrem Goldberg’s article, which alleged that too many inquiries are being made before allowing couples to date.
While I agree wholeheartedly that references should not be asked about medical issues, it is perfectly fair to pose those questions to the parents. Of course, I understand the need to give those with medical issues a fair shot in the dating pool, but I am going to venture a guess that Rabbi Goldberg has never been on the other side of the equation — having his child become emotionally involved in a promising relationship only to have it blow up when they find out about a previously undisclosed issue.
I have. More than once.
It is devastating to see your child heartbroken when they realize that they have to end a relationship with someone they thought was “the one” when a significant health issue was finally disclosed. (And yes, we did ask about health issues before agreeing to the shidduch and were reassured that there weren’t any.) Adding insult to injury, my son had to take the fall for the shidduch’s sudden and unexpected end on both occasions in order to protect the other side’s confidentiality, making him look bad in front of the shadchan who will likely never redt him another shidduch again. Support from friends, relatives, and others to get them through what is most certainly a trying time? That can’t happen when the real reason for the relationship’s abrupt end has to be kept secret to protect the other side’s privacy.
May Rabbi Goldberg never go through this painful and heart-wrenching experience with his children and may all of our singles find their basherts smoothly, easily, and painlessly. Meanwhile, I am going to keep asking my questions, not because I want to, but because I have learned that I have to.

Who Needs Impeccable?

M.G.

When our children entered shidduchim, I was “educated” about how résumés work by being told to focus on gaps and read between the lines for potential problems. When I asked simple questions such as, “What if they just needed more time or something came up (like real life) that changed their plans?” I was countered with: “What do you want to do, change the system?”
As parents, haven’t we been taught to focus on the unique greatness and potential for every person? Having grit and being positive are character traits that are much more useful in marriage than being “impeccable,” as a candidate was once described to me by a reference, with a sniff. Nothing shut down my interest more.

Convoluted Process

A Frustrated Rebbetzin

As a rebbetzin who is not an official shadchan but tries to help set people up, I often comment on how these days I will have the same excited reaction when a couple agrees to go on a first date as I used to when a couple got engaged. With the extensive research and the amount of steps it takes these days to simply go out on a date, it’s a miracle anyone is getting married.
Unfortunately, as a result, it is becoming increasingly disheartening to put the time and effort into making shidduchim when the result is often a dead end. What a shame if people like myself will stop trying to set up singles because of all this unnecessary frustration.
I also wonder at which point did we start taking these decisions out of our single boys’ and girls’ hands and began to micromanage their entire dating parshah. Aren’t they the ones who will be getting married? Shouldn’t they be making these determinations, without all the adults in their lives — be it their parents, shadchanim, rebbeim, or dating coaches strongly weighing in and influencing them in different directions?
What are we doing to our youngsters when we don’t allow them to choose who they want to even go out with on a date?
I hope we can come up with the necessary solutions to help our children find their voices, empower them to make their own good decisions, and to be able to set up more first dates.

We Need Trust

Ruthie Teverovskiy

Rabbi Efrem Goldberg brought up some very good points, but I found myself thinking, “But still! What are we supposed to do when we are being set up with random people?” After much thought, I came to the conclusion that we are lacking trust. Trust in the system, trust in the people who set us up, and trust in the people we date.
If we take a deep breath, trust that Hashem will bring everyone’s proper zivugim, and not panic to get married ASAP, we will hopefully be less inclined to sugarcoat everything.
I was in shidduchim for a while and was accustomed to the classic phone calls where you dig as deep as possible, because you truly have no idea who the other person is. When my husband was redt to me, however, the shadchan (a non-professional) told me straight up: “I am going to tell you everything I know about him because there is no sense in faking things. If you think this is a good idea, then go out with him. If not, then it’s not worth his time or your time to date.”
I had so much more menuchas hanefesh when I looked into and dated my husband because I knew he was not hiding anything, and I knew that the shadchan wanted us to end up happy and not just married for the sake of marriage. I implore everyone to be a little more open and honest. Then we can rebuild trust in the system and have more menuchas hanefesh and happiness.

Stop the Denial

Esther Gross
I appreciate Rabbi Efrem Goldberg’s revealing, authentic, heartwarming recently featured article.
I authored the book You Are Not Alone — a Three-Dimensional Approach to Overcoming Anxiety many years ago. My aim was to share some insight, as well as professional advice and the Torah‘s perspective on coping with anxiety, panic, and depression.
Once the manuscript was completed, I offered it to a reputable publisher and they responded, “Who suffers from anxiety? No, please don’t send us a copy! Not interested!”
Since my mission is my commission, I called another publisher, Feldheim Publishers, founded back in 1939. They welcomed my manuscript enthusiastically and published and printed it several times. Thank Hashem, it has sold thousands of copies and it is also available in Yiddish.
To all the shadchanim and those who are going through the shidduchim process — stop the denial. No one is immune. Anxiety, depression, and panic disorder can visit us all uninvited, especially since COVID-19.
Taking “medication” or being in therapy is not a problem. Not taking responsibility and not doing what is required of us to heal ourselves and deal with our personal challenges and issues — that is the problem!
If one merits to meet a lovely person who is refined, kind, caring, giving, willing to go the extra mile for others, coping with life, and serving as a role model — and also taking meds or in therapy — call your rav, discuss your options, get a brachah… mazel tov!
Ultimately what is required of us is to build a mini personal sanctuary and to serve Hashem with joy.

Where Are Our Shadchanim?

A Second-timer
I enjoyed reading Rav Efrem Goldberg’s article on shidduchim. As a divorced older single, the issue becomes even more applicable because of my past experience. I feel that sometimes people have this expectation of getting a perfect spouse, and as the Rav so eloquently expressed, no one is perfect. So the question becomes, can what I have been through collide or gel with what the potential shidduch has been through, and not automatically turn down a shidduch just because they have been through something.
I would also like to bring up another topic that I encounter as an older single. I put myself out there, send my résumé to countless shadchanim, meet with many shadchanim, and speak on the phone with many shadchanim in numerous states and even in different countries. Some are nice enough to respond that they don’t deal with older singles, but some don’t return phone calls, emails, or texts even just to let me know they don’t deal with older singles. Most single events are for the younger crowd. Where are the shadchanim that do deal with older singles? Maybe you can run an article about remembering your older singles in your community and find out who is brave enough to redt shidduchim to older singles who’ve experienced either divorce or the death of a spouse, which are both very painful to go through.

When You Don’t Ask

Name Withheld
We were the model parents that Rabbi Efrem Goldberg said we should all aspire to be. Our eldest child entered the world of shidduchim and we naively said yes without doing too much research. On two occasions, this approach hit us very hard.
After developing a relationship, a potential spouse revealed that they had suffered from severe anxiety issues. As a result, our child walked away heartbroken. On another occasion, as we sat down with potential mechutanim, they revealed that they could not assist the soon-to-be kollel couple with support or with the cost of the wedding. Not only were we unable to take on full support, we felt like this exhibited a lack of yashrus on their behalf. Once again our child walked away heartbroken.
We very quickly learned that it was our responsibility as parents to ask many questions and conduct thorough research prior to saying yes to a shidduch. Please do not make the same mistake we did. You owe it to your precious children!

Goal-Oriented Questions

A Shadchan and Shidduch Agent
Rabbi Goldberg is correct that shidduch reference checking has gotten out of hand, with questions about tablecloth colors and bank statements. Any sign of imperfection can get a great boy or girl thrown from the pile of résumés. But that doesn’t mean all questions are unnecessary.
As a teacher, I am often asked by my students to be their shidduch “agent” and help with their phone calls. Some of them don’t have parents who are on the same page as them or in the same country to help them. I have the zechus of working with individuals who are not looking for perfection, because they are well aware of what is out there, and they just want a person of fine character with whom they can build a Torah home. But, when they voice a concern about a particular issue — especially one of emotional instability, history of psychological illness, or addiction — I take it seriously. Medication need not be indicative of a future divorce situation, but the question usually needs to be asked. References often conceal information if not asked directly, and a serious psychological issue can destroy a marriage, especially in a case where they are trying to hide it.
When I call a reference and one of the first questions I ask is about psychological issues, it’s usually because I have already spoken to several other close friends of the “candidate” who have given me lots of great information, making this worth pursuing. Yet many of those wonderful references readily admit that they cannot vouch for the emotional stability of this person and that it would be best to check with someone who knows them more intimately or for a longer period of time. And that’s where these goal-oriented phone calls come in. (I tell my students that it is important for them to have someone on their list of references who can answer about their emotional stability and give a confident, true answer when asked.)
I can’t speak for those who just have a checklist in front of them and are looking for the slightest imperfection to nix the shidduch. I go into it with an open mind, an innocent-until-proven-guilty approach. But there are cases where I wouldn’t call the candidate “guilty,” rather “not shayach” for this girl or boy who does not feel ready to handle that issue in a marriage.
I think that rather than not ask the question, we need to educate better about what medication means and does not mean. First of all, someone on medication is aware of their issues, as opposed to those who are completely ignoring them. Second, not all meds are created equal. A mild antidepressant (quite common today for teens) is not the same as meds that treat bipolar disorder. And while medication for ADHD may not be a reason to break a shidduch, it could certainly help someone better understand their partner if they know that this is a challenge. A student once asked me if she should say no to a shidduch because the boy has severe ADHD. I described to her the possible mailos and challenges of such an individual so she could decide whether that was a personality potentially compatible with hers.
It is an unfortunate reality that certain issues that can make one unsuitable for marriage are not unusual. (Rabbi Goldberg writes that they are hopefully not so common, but that is not my experience.) Therefore, the questions do need to be asked, but how we then understand and filter that information will be the true test of our intentions.
I have made a few shidduchim with knowledge of problems in the family background. When the boy or girl first came to me entering the parshah, they voiced concern about their “flaws” and I would tell them what I tell all my students: If it matters to them so much, then they are not for you. You are going to find someone for whom this is a maaleh. And they did!

Disturbing Calls

L. G.
I was thrilled when I saw the cover of Mishpacha this week, and even more thrilled when I read Rabbi Goldberg’s article. I’m a 21-year-old single girl, and I get many calls from parents asking for shidduch information about my friends. I’m more than happy to give of my time, and the majority of my calls have been positive experiences. Recently, though, I’ve had phone calls that weren’t just “not positive,” but also downright disturbing.
I honestly feel that these types of phone calls are hurtful to the shidduch. Don’t believe me? Have you ever been asked to compare girls? Has anyone called you about one person, didn’t like what they heard, then asked you about someone else in the same sentence — and then asked you to compare their middos?
I have been asked to list off girls who I think meet specific requirements. I have been kept on the phone for an hour — in my opinion, the call should last max 20 minutes, unless maybe you’re good friends or relatives and are schmoozing with them. During one hour-long phone call that I will never forget, every time I answered a question, the parent would go on to explain how things are done in their home, how they don’t agree with the way the frum community does things, and how their son is such a masmid that he knew the answer to a sh’eilah that learned rabbanim in their community didn’t know. (And this was necessary to tell me because…?)
I have had callers start to ask about me and my life, which becomes super awkward. You’re calling about my friend, I want to give information about my friend, and now I’m somehow supposed to paint myself in a positive light since I’m also in shidduchim, without turning the spotlight completely on me — because you called about my friend.
If you’re calling me for information, please introduce yourself (I know this is controversial, and I’m curious to hear others’ thoughts). One mother called and when I asked who was calling, was not willing to say. I said I would prefer to know with whom I’m speaking, and without a word she hung up on me. I was taught to only give information to people who identify themselves so that my information is given l’toeles. (Again, I’d like to know what others think.) Please ask relevant, specific, “friend of the girl” appropriate questions about this girl, and hang up.
There are so many classes for single girls about how to give shidduch information, it’s about time there are classes for parents for how to get it. Maybe Rabbi Goldberg will give the first one.

Stop the Degradation

Tova Weinstein
A shadchan recently told me a story. He approached a bochur and suggested a certain girl as a shidduch. The bochur scrolled through pictures on his phone and, pointing to a picture of a girl, asked “you mean her?” She had never been redt to this bochur before. A friend of his shared her picture with him. This shadchan assures me that this is not an isolated incident among our yeshivah bochurim. Even someone who would claim that circulating girls’ photographs for the purpose of shidduchim is proper hishtadlus, should certainly agree that this is inappropriate.
Rabbi Efrem Goldberg quoted Rav Dovid Feinstein ztz”l and ybdchl”t Rav Chaim Kanievsky as stating that the practice of shidduch pictures makes no sense; one must meet a girl in person in order to see if he is attracted to her. A shadchan shared with me a story about a boy who admitted that if he had seen a picture he would never have gone out with this girl, but after just one date he saw that it was truly worthwhile to meet her.
At the 2019 Agudah convention, the issue of shidduch photos came up at two different sessions. Rav Aharon Lopiansky described a picture as “the klipah chitzonius. It’s just the body.” Rav Moshe Tuvia Lieff said about pictures that they’re “not three-dimensional. Panim means face, which means that there’s an inside, there’s a whole dimension that you don’t see. It’s very superficial, it’s more like Hollywood than our reality.”
A relationship that is built on such superficial values has very little staying power. In an era where early divorces are becoming alarmingly common, we need to take a good look at how our young couples are building those relationships. What messages are we imparting to our daughters and sons? Do they understand the inner workings of a relationship and the values that really matter in a marriage? Or are they being told, outright and subliminally, that the outer appearance is of utmost importance?
At the same Agudah convention, Rabbi Yechiel Rhine said the following: “It’s not fair to make a girl stand up against the world by herself. We need to stand up as a klal and say pictures have to stop.”
I think that we all need to step up and present a unified front stating that we will no longer stand for this degradation of the people and concepts that we hold so dear. We have the power to stand up together and say, “We will no longer look at or share shidduch pictures.” Let’s join together and show that as a community we know what is truly valuable.
I am working on creating a way to unite those who are interested in putting an end to the practice of shidduch photos. I have spoken to multiple people who are in influential positions and have the ability to assist in creating true change. The next step is in your hands. We need to show that there are many who feel passionate about this issue. A strong reaction from the collective readers will be the catalyst that can propel us toward this goal.
Please email noshidduchpics@gmail.com and affirm that you disagree with this practice that has become the norm. Please let us know your role in shidduchim (girl, mother of a girl, mother of a boy, shadchan, etc). Email addresses or names will not be shared with anyone without your permission. We are not asking for any commitments at this time, just your support in writing.
Let’s show our communities how many people are interested in joining together with the klal to bring about this desperately needed paradigm shift.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 844)

The post No Further Questions: The Conversation Continues first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.

Growing up, I always knew I was related to one of the poskei hador. But he was a shadowy enigma of a figure, as I’d never met him. Besides, I was a regular, normal person, not the type for gadol hador connections.

It wasn’t until I came to seminary in Eretz Yisrael that I met Reb Zalman Nechemia, my mother’s first cousin. My imagination could not have prepared me for the diminutive man who greeted me with a casual cardigan draped over his shoulders and a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Ah! We have chashuve company from America,” he said, with a broad smile.

Although I was tongue-tied, it wasn’t moments before I was seated at the large dining room table, a mug of tea in my hands and a warm, contented feeling in my heart. I immediately felt accepted as one of the family and an instant bond was formed.

Reb Zalman Nechemia kept me entertained with stories of my grandfather and my mother, many of which I’d never heard before. When my mother’s family left Eretz Yisrael to move to the United States in the early 1950s, Reb Zalman Nechemia accompanied my mother’s family to the airport. On the way, the van they were traveling in went into a ditch and turned over. They all climbed out of the van, and continued walking to the airport! Life was tough in those days, and when the car rolled over, you just got up and walked. He remembered how my grandfather once brought his family a small battery-operated car from America, an item inaccessible in Eretz Yisrael. But they couldn’t afford the battery to run the toy.

Throughout his reminiscing, Rebbetzin Rochel kept my hand in hers as she gestured, “All we are, our entire family, we owe to your Zeide Yosef.” My grandfather had been instrumental in helping his sister’s family escape the Soviet Union and the family never stops expressing their hakaras hatov for that salvation.

There was something captivating about the atmosphere; both the Rav and the Rebbetzin were warm, lively, charismatic people. And so grounded, down to earth, never any airs about them. What you saw was what you got and what you got was authentic simchas hachayim and a life governed by Torah with every breath they took. But Torah wasn’t a series of chumras, tensions, and a yoke of solemn responsibility. It was simply the sustenance from with they drew every breath, that fueled the dynamics of every action and reaction of their lives.

Most of the children were already married by the time I arrived on the scene, yet each new family accepted me with the same warm inclusion that characterized their parents. I spent Shabbosim at the Goldberg house, sharing a room with their youngest daughter, Yochi (Kushelevsky). Shabbos morning, Reb Zalman Nechemia would return home from shul and find us still sound asleep. He’d just walk to the table and start Kiddush. Within moments we’d tumble out of bed giggling, and he’d smile and finish the brachah.

During the Gulf War, my seminary dorm closed down and I moved in with Tzivia (Fuss), their second daughter. Watching her and her husband calmly wake up their children several times a night to don gas masks as sirens wailed taught me infinite lessons in chinuch, far more than any seminary class.

I returned to Israel every summer until I got married. Always, the Goldbergs were thrilled to see me, involved in the ups and downs of my shidduchim, rejoicing when I moved here. “Oy, how the Zeide Yosef is shepping nachas,” Rebbetzin Goldberg would say with a smile. “He came to Eretz Yisrael alone and now, look! Look at his family, how you’re raising Yiddishe children here!”

Every simchah we made, they were there. At my daughter’s chasunah, we gave Reb Zalman Nechemia a brachah under the chuppah. Like many Israeli chuppahs, it was a bit heimish, with several children crowding under the chuppah with us. My five-year-old had plopped himself down right on the floor in the front of the chuppah to get the best seat. Reb Zalman Nechemia was elderly at the time, and when he approached the chuppah it was difficult to walk by due to these front-row spectators. Yet characteristically, the Rav didn’t tell my son to move, and instead maneuvered himself carefully around him to approach the chassan and kallah. During the dancing, Rebbetzin Goldberg, despite her age, danced with my daughter for a long time. When my daughter thanked her so much for coming and staying, she answered with a twinkle, “Didn’t you invite me to the whole chasunah?”

My niece got married last year and my brother-in-law wanted to give Reb Zalman Nechemia a brachah under the chuppah as he had for his other children. He dropped by the house to personally invite the Rav and Rebbetzin and offered the Rav the kibbud. The Rebbetzin gave a sigh and said, “Chaval, the next morning the Rav has a medical procedure and will be fasting that night so it won’t work out.”

But Reb Zalman Nechmiah said firmly, “I’d like it to work out. We’ll rearrange the medical procedure.” That was the importance of family. He once commented that he didn’t understand why people had such a need to travel. “The most natural simchah in this life is that of simchas hamishpachah.”

He lived that precept. Years ago, when the news came that my great-uncle was being allowed to leave the Soviet Union, the details were unclear as to when exactly he would arrive. Reb Zalman Nechemia spent three full days at the airport in Eretz Yisrael to make sure he’d be on hand to greet his uncle. He appreciated family that much.

My cousin from America was learning here in Eretz Yisrael and was once accompanying Reb Zalman Nechemia down the street. As always, there was a huge entourage of people walking with the Rav and my cousin got pushed toward the back of the crowd. Suddenly, Reb Zalman Nechemia stopped and said, “Chaim, where’s Chaim?” All the people stopped as well, looking for this chashuve person whom the Rav was seeking. Like Kri’as Yam Suf, the crowd parted, Chaim took his place next to the Rav again, and they continued walking. Slightly embarrassed, he later asked one of the Goldberg sons why it was so important to the Rav that he walk beside him. The son looked surprised at the question. “Because you’re mishpachah!”

When my husband sat shivah for his mother, the Rav and Rebbetzin both came to our home outside Yerushalayim and were menachem avel my husband for an hour. We’re talking about a first cousin once removed through marriage… an hour-long shivah call?

This attitude of humility and warmth wasn’t only extended to family. My sister’s friend came from the States to visit her son who was learning in Eretz Yisrael. They were walking near the Goldbergs’ house, so my sister offered to take them in to get a brachah from the Rav. Despite the impromptu nature of the visit, the Rav spent a while speaking with the woman and giving her advice and brachos. Then he turned to the young yeshivah bochur and gave him a brachah to be successful in his learning, adding, “If you’d like, you’re welcome to write to me to ask me questions in your learning and I’ll answer you.”

It didn’t strike him as incongruous that he was one of the gedolei hador offering a young American bochur his personal time to help him grow in Torah.

The Rav extended this attitude of deep sensitivity to every human being regardless of stature. Years ago, my cousin was learning in Yeshivat Hakotel, (in what is now Netiv Aryeh) and had a weekly two-hour chavrusa with Rav Zalman Nechemia. Every week at the end of the learning session, the Rav would walk my cousin all the way down the steps to the main street and wait with him at the bus stop until a bus arrived.

My cousin relates how he saw so many people visit the Rav in his apartment, with a wide range of the great and the simple. The Rav would welcome each with the same honor, never dismissive of any. In today’s political era, he was a person who transcended those limitations. He davened in a Chabad shul near his house, was rosh yeshivah of a chassidish yeshivah, and served as a dayan for a science university, among his many other roles.

I once asked Rabbi Zev Leff shlita if I could bring a certain hechsher to my cousin. He explained that the kashrus of the hechsher was fine, but some had political reservations about it. He then asked who my cousin was. When I answered Rav Goldberg, he answered, “Oh, Rav Zalman Nechemia is above such things.”

The Rav would often describe a person as an adam yakar me’od — a precious human being. All human beings were precious to him. That view of humanity was so elevating.

That sums up the attitude of both the Rav and Rebbetzin. No pomp, no ceremony, only genuine people. My role models. I often think, this is what a Torah lifestyle is. This laughing and talking and sharing as a family, while discussing halachah, hashkafah, and chinuch. It’s not thinking it through, it’s being. With every facet of life.

Many of us will read a biography of a gadol, sigh, and close the book with a feeling of despondency. I don’t have the photographic memory or scope of knowledge of Reb Zalman Nechemia, nor the yichus of Rebbetzin Rochel. But I’ve learned from them that what counts is integrity to self, to be genuine and actualize personal potential. That’s true greatness, and as such, I too can be a gadol like my cousin. Yehi zichro baruch.

Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 831.

The post Behind the Gadol Is a Great Person first appeared on Mishpacha Magazine.