Issue 31 -- Sivan 5785

A blitz of delicious blintzes for Shavuos

The Legend of Bal Harbour

The influence of Rabbi Sholom Ber Lipskar (5706-5785) extended beyond South Florida

The Shliach who perfected teaching Torah

A bereaved mother demands Moshiach Miriam Rappaport paints her Yemenite roots

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Something to Treasure

A letter from the Rebbe

From the Publisher

Editorial I Mica Soffer

When Hate Hit Home

Rabbi Yehuda Ceitlin

The Legend of Bal Harbour

Dovid Margolin

Lifelong Help to Israel

Rabbi Zalman Duchman

Shlichus-First Perspective

Maj. Elie Estrin

An Unshakable Bond

David Schottenstein

Owning Torah

Yoni Brown

In the Name of Her Son

Yisroel Alperovitch

Firebrand of Eastern Parkway

Dovid Zaklikowski

Echoes of Teiman

Sara Trappler Spielman

A Cup of Blessings

JEM gallery

Beyond the Loom

Chinuch Matters

Bayla Rutman - MEF

Kids Korner

Fun I Sari Kopitnikoff

History’s Heroes

Activity I Parsha Studio

Healing Soldiers in Guam

Story / Asharon Baltazar

Get a Job, Kid!

Humor I Mordechai Schmutter

A Blitz of Blintzes

Food I Sruly Meyer

1451 Union Street

Then & Now I Shmuel Blesofsky

Rabbi Sholom Ber Lipskar at The Shul of Bal Harbour in Surfside, Florida, in March 2024. Photographed by Yisroel Teitelbaum @thebigpic.inc

With deep sorrow and profound gratitude, the Aleph Institute honors the legacy of our beloved founder and guiding light

Rabbi Sholom D. Lipskar A”H

At the directive of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Lipskar founded the Aleph Institute in 1981 to serve Jews in prison, mental health institutions, and the U.S. military — those too often forgotten. With courage, vision, and compassion, he built Aleph into a national organization grounded in dignity, justice, and hope. Rabbi Lipskar offered strength and solace to thousands. He met people in their most vulnerable moments, restoring their sense of dignity and reminding them of their worth. His passing is a profound loss not only for Aleph, but for the countless individuals whose lives he touched.

His life’s work continues through Aleph’s mission: No one alone. No one forgotten.

May his memory be a blessing.

By the Grace of G-d Isru-chag HaShavuos, 573 Brooklyn, N.Y.

Mrs. Ruth Benjamin Johannesburg, South Africa

Blessing and Greeting:

I received your correspondence, and may G-d grant the fulfillment of your heart’s desires for good in the matters about which you wrote.

I trust you had an enjoyable and inspiring Shavuos, Zman Mattan Toroseinu, the Season of the Giving of Our Torah - and that the inspiration will be with you in all days ahead throughout the year.

The designation of Shavuos as the Festival of Mattan Torah is significant in that among other things - it conveys the concept that the Torah was given to us as a matana, a “gift.” For, unlike a “sale” or “barter” - involving an exchange of value for value, or an “award” or “prize” - for a special effort or merit, a “gift” is given freely and graciously, without previous effort on the part of the receiver.

Needless to say, if the giver of the gift is a very distinguished person, and, moreover, the receiver is a person of humble station, it makes the gift even more precious, and the receiver cherishes it all the more, treats it with honor and pride, and takes good care of it.

Dvar Malchus

Something to Treasure

Appreciating the gift of Torah

Reflecting on the above, and remembering that the Giver of the Torah is G-d Himself, and that the Torah and Mitzvos are the most precious gift, which G-d gave us to keep as our Torah, and that we received it out of pure love, without effort on our part - should surely make every one of us most appreciative and grateful, and absolutely determined to cherish and honor it.

As to how we have to honor the Torah - this is clearly indicated in the Torah itself: by conducting our everyday life in full accord with the spirit and letter of the Torah, with the accent on the actual fulfillment of its Mitzvos, for the essential thing is the actual deed.

May the inspiration of Zman Mattan Toraseinu permeate every aspect of your daily life in an ever growing measure.

With blessing,

/Signed: Menachem Schneerson

Publisher Mica Soffer

Editor Rabbi Yehuda Ceitlin

Associate Editor Mendy Wineberg

Contributing Writers

Yisroel Alperovitch

Asharon Baltazar

Shmuel Blesofsky

Yoni Brown

Zalman Duchman

Elie Estrin

Tzemach Feller

Sari Kopitnikoff

Sruly Meyer

Mordechai Schmutter

Sara Trappler Spielman

Dovid Zaklikowski

Design

Sheva Berlin

Chana Tenenbaum

Photo Credits: JEM/Living Archive

Special Thanks

Kfar Chabad Magazine Chabad.org

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FROM THE PUBLISHER

A matzeiva can tell a lot about a person’s life. In the case of Rabbi Sholom Ber Lipskar, who passed away last month at the age of 78, his headstone certainly captures many of his accomplishments in rejuvenating Jewish life in Bal Harbour, South Florida, and beyond.

Located at the Old Montefiore Cemetery in New York, it mentions his building of the Landow Yeshiva Center in Miami Beach, founding and leading The Shul in Surfside, and creating the Aleph Institute to assist military personnel and the incarcerated.

It notes how he loved the Rebbe, served as “a guide and spiritual father figure to his community,” and “loved every Jew and cared for their material and spiritual needs.” It also mentions his special affinity for Eretz Yisroel.

The engraving concludes with two of his common sayings: Lechatchila Ariber of the Rebbe Maharash — to go over obstacles instead of under them — and the all-American attitude of “Get it done.”

Reading it reminded me of the saying in English, which was important to Rabbi Lipskar.

I learned it while working on design projects for The Shul of Bal Harbour. At the time, my husband and I ran a marketing and graphic design agency, producing Jewish holiday brochures for Shluchim to customize for their Chabad Houses and communities.

For The Shul, which had grown into a sprawling Jewish community center, we would list its many programs and services. Then came the request to add the words “Over the Top!” in large, bold letters.

At first, we weren’t sure what that meant. Did he want certain words placed at the top of the page? Or did he literally want the words Over the Top in bold print? He wanted the latter. We added it, true to the mantra that the customer is always right.

Only years later, in my role as publisher of COLlive.com, did I begin to understand what that line really stood for. Reporting about The Shul of Bal Harbour's many activities made it clear that 'Over the Top' was how Rabbi Lipskar lived his remarkable life - facing challenges head on, and getting it done - as he liked to say.

His message to his community and to so many of us who admired him, was that Yiddishkeit should be over the top. And to his fellow Chassidim and Shluchim, he showed what it meant to be an over-the-top Shliach, bringing the world ever closer to the over-the-top era with the coming of Moshiach. In other words, Lechatchila Ariber.

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Sometimes, a hostile act meant to intimidate and dishearten its target can unexpectedly and almost miraculously lead to beautiful results. My community experienced this in the aftermath of our discovering antisemitic graffiti defacing the wall of Chabad Tucson–Young Israel, Arizona’s first Orthodox Jewish synagogue, on Tuesday, April 22, 2025.

Those who scrawled the words “End Apartheid” and “Abolish Israel” beneath a large Magen Dovid on our wall could not have known that their hateful message would spark a wave of heartwarming gestures and community unity.

Here is what transpired — and the five lessons I’ve taken from it.

1. Antisemitism doesn’t shock us anymore.

After discovering what occurred, I couldn’t help but compare it to an earlier incident: Three years ago, another Chabad center in Tucson was vandalized with a swastika and a hateful slur. That attack made national news and drew widespread condemnation. This time, there was anger and sadness, but not surprise. Antisemitic incidents in the U.S. have now broken records for the fourth year in a row. According to the ADL, there were more than 25 targeted anti-Jewish incidents per day in 2024 — that’s more than one every hour. Sadly, it’s become all too common.

2. We found unlikely allies. Antisemitism has risen sharply since the Hamas terror attack on Simchas Torah - October 7, 2023, and Israel’s war for

defense and hostage rescue. We find little common ground with organizations like the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR) and their anti-Israel stance. However, when our shul was attacked, CAIR Arizona’s Executive Director, Azza Abuseif, issued a strong statement of support: “We condemn this act of vandalism targeting a house of worship and express our solidarity with the Arizona Jewish community. No faith community should face such inexcusable harassment or intimidation.”

Additionally, a local Christian woman as well as a Muslim man from Austin, Texas, sent flowers to our synagogue. This shows that even in divided times, we can share common values.

3. Covering up a crime doesn’t solve it.

Shortly after the graffiti was discovered, a well-meaning man taped white garbage bags over the messages to hide them from view. But the police, who were still investigating, quickly removed the bags. The Torah teaches, “You shall not hate your brother in your heart. You shall surely rebuke your fellow” (Vayikra 19:17). We are commanded to confront difficult truths head-on — not to suppress or avoid them. We chose to expose the damage so that we could remove it properly, with intention and care.

4. The hate brought people together.

Helping to remove the graffiti were an eclectic mix of people — Jewish and non-Jewish alike. They brought a ladder, paint rollers and brushes, ScrubDaddy sponges,

power tools, cans of paint, and even industrial-strength graffiti remover. “Our peoples have a shared history of suffering,” a Black man commented as he got to work. Among the volunteers were members of the AEPi Jewish fraternity at the University of Arizona. I overheard one of them speaking with a commercial real estate broker who was also there. The conversation ended with the broker offering the student a summer internship.

5. Hate was answered with kindness.

In our statement to the media, we called on the public to rise above hate by increasing acts of goodness and kindness — mitzvot that spread light in dark times. The response exceeded

expectations. Jews who have not been religious came to wrap tefillin, pray with us, study Torah, and donate to charity. One of them was a man named Alex. He told me, “If anything is needed, always feel free to reach out.” A few days later, we had a funeral for an elderly woman at a remote cemetery and needed a tenth man to form the minyan to say Kaddish. I called Alex, and he showed up. The grieving family was deeply grateful.

The hateful graffiti is long gone, but the ripple effect of kindness, solidarity, and action continues to shine—just like the clean white wall that now stands in its place.

Rabbi Yehuda Ceitlin, Editor of COLlive. com and COLlive Magazine, is the Associate Rabbi of Chabad Tucson-Young Israel in Tucson, Arizona. He coordinates the annual Yarchei Kallah gathering of Chabad Rabbonim and Roshei Yeshiva

The Legend of Bal Harbour

The influence of Rabbi Sholom Ber Lipskar (5706-5785) extended beyond South Florida

By Dovid MargolinChabad.org

Photos by Yisroel Teitelbaum, Aleph Institute, JEM, Chabad.org

Sholom DovBer Lipskar was in many ways a baby boomer, a child of the post-war generation that would change everything. He too had a sort of wild drive to upend this imperfect world. Like the most successful of his contemporaries, he was also blessed with a keen intellect, explosive energy, and magnetic charisma. Unlike those whose zeal for a better tomorrow led them to reject the essential mores and bonds that had sustained humanity, Lipskar channeled his passions in a different direction: He joined the revolution being led by the Rebbe to reveal the world’s higher purpose and empower every human being to find their unique role in it.

He got his start in 1969, when the Rebbe sent him and his wife, Chani, to Miami. Over the course of the next half a century, he would help galvanize a spiritual counter-culture.

“Miami is a showcase for American Jewry from all parts of the U.S.A.,” the Rebbe wrote in a letter dating from 1973. “Every accomplishment there, in the area of Torah education and revival of Yiddishkeit, has the significance of a ‘pilot’ project for others to emulate.” In that icon of material success—and excess— the Rebbe saw the potential for a pioneering spiritual revolution that would help transform the landscape of American Jewry and trigger positive “repercussions on a global scale.”

Lipskar, who passed away on 5 Iyar (May 3) at the age of 78, would be a conduit to help bring this potential into reality. He spearheaded the

construction of Chabad-Lubavitch of Florida’s first educational center and campus and founded the firstever yeshivah of higher learning in the southern United States. Then, in 1981, he moved north, to the ritzy and at the time waspy town of Bal Harbour, a beach community to which Jews were slowly moving but which had no synagogue. There, he and his wife opened a place called simply, “The Shul.”

Today, The Shul of Bal Harbour sprawls over some 125,000 square feet on Collins Avenue in neighboring Surfside, and serves as spiritual home to hundreds of multi-generational families. While the area was once less-thanfriendly to Jews, the Lipskars and their Shul transformed Bal Harbour, Surfside and Bay Harbor Islands into a thriving, bustling Jewish community, a “showcase” to emulate. In many ways, these neighborhoods today form the gravitational center of Jewish life in South Florida.

“Bal Harbour, Surfside, Bay Harbor, they are what they are because of Rabbi Lipskar,” says Moshe Tabacinic, who first met Lipskar in Colombia in the 1970s. An investor and philanthropist, he has lived in Bal Harbour with his wife, Lillian, for 25 years. “I’m not even talking only about the Jewish community here; I mean in general. Everything that has been built here since he came was built upon his shoulders. He was the one who triggered all of it.”

In recognition of his stature, the towns of Bal Harbour and Surfside,

which today are about 50 percent Jewish, flew their flags at half mast during Lipskar’s week of shiva.

George Rohr’s parents, Sami and Charlotte Rohr, first met Lipskar in the late 1970s as frequent visitors to Miami when they were living in Colombia. They moved to Bal Harbour in the early 1980s, where they became key supporters of Lipskar’s shul. “Early on, Rabbi Lipskar shared with my father the blessing he had received from the Rebbe, as well as the Rebbe’s perspective that Miami would become the gateway to much of South American Jewry and a very important center of Jewish life in America. He said all this long before it was,” says Rohr.

It wasn’t just The Shul that the Rohrs ended up supporting, but a huge swath of Chabad-Lubavitch’s work around the world, from the former Soviet Union to college campuses across the United States. “Rabbi Lipskar was instrumental in making the shidduch between our family and Chabad,” says Rohr.

Mindful of the Rebbe’s call to pursue change on a “global scale,” the same year Lipskar started working in Bal Harbour, he founded a national organization to provide spiritual and material support for Jews in the prison system and for those serving in the military. Since 1981, the Aleph Institute has grown into the largest Jewish organization caring for the incarcerated and their families. Founded upon the Rebbe’s teachings on criminal justice, it pioneered the field of alternative sentencing

Rabbi Lipskar receives a dollar from the Rebbe on 4 Iyar 5750 (1990)

and provided the expertise and institutional knowledge crucial in the drafting and passage of the landmark First Step Act in 2018. Aleph actively promotes the Rebbe’s essential idea, too often lost in the conversation about crime and punishment, that every human being contains a Divine spark and has a singular role to play in the world. Its military division is one of two in the country to endorse Jewish military chaplains, and champions the unique needs of Jewish personnel in the U.S. Armed Forces.

Lipskar’s visible accomplishments have been widely hailed, and his passing drew condolences from Prime Minister Benjamin and Sarah Netanyahu of Israel, President Javier Milei of Argentina, the governor of Florida, U.S. senators, and many other officials. According to those who knew him best, however, the truest testament to his life’s work is

what cannot be seen on the surface.

“People will speak about the Shul, Aleph, and all the great things that he did, because those are the monuments that you can physically see,” says Tabacinic. “But if you could see what he has changed on the inside of so many people, that transformation is ten times more. That’s the greatness that he had.”

Smuggled in a Suitcase

Sholom DovBer Lipskar was born on August 1, 1946 (4 Menachem Av, 5706), in Tashkent, Soviet Uzbekistan, the second of Rabbi Eliyahu Akiva and Rochel Baila Lipskar’s five children. This was the era of the Great Escape, when the Chabad Chassidic community

took advantage of the repatriation of war-time Polish refugees back to Poland to flee the Soviet Union— an evil empire which had been brutally persecuting Judaism from the dawn of its existence. By using forged and falsified identity papers to pass themselves off as Poles, approximately 1,200 Chassidim made it through the Iron Curtain to freedom.

While the Lipskars had succeeded in obtaining paperwork and train tickets for their family, they had neither for their newborn baby. Rather than wait and risk losing their chance of reaching freedom, the family chose to board the train from Lvov (today Lviv), crossing into Poland anyway. The 20-dayold Sholom was stashed into a suitcase with holes popped into its sides and carried out by his maternal grandfather, R’ Zalman Duchman. Once safely out of the USSR, they continued their travels through Poland—Lipskar’s father continuously bribing officials to ignore the fact that none of the Russian Chassidim spoke a word of Polish—until reaching Czechoslovakia.

Rebbetzin Chana Schneerson, the Rebbe’s mother, traveled aboard the same transport out of the Soviet Union, and the Lipskars were among those who assisted her during the difficult journey, parting ways once they’d reached Germany. Sholom’s earliest childhood memories were formed in the Schwabisch Hall and Feldafing Displaced Persons camps, where the Lipskars lived until emigrating to Toronto, Canada, in 1951.

Lipskar’s first teacher had been a Chassidic melamed back in the DP camps. In Toronto he studied at the Eitz Chaim yeshivah, before

transferring to the Lubavitcher yeshivah in Brooklyn at the age of 15. At the end of 1963 Lipskar joined the higher yeshivah located in the Rebbe’s synagogue at 770 Eastern Parkway, where he excelled in his studies. He immersed himself in the environment, becoming a dedicated student of the Rebbe’s teachings and mode of thinking.

“As you watch the Rebbe, you get challenged and charged to perceive the world in a different way,” he would later explain. “You start seeing the physical world in the way that it was intended to serve man instead of man serving it. Instead of working to achieve a materialistic goal, you start looking at how the materialistic aspects of the world are there to allow man to reach a higher-level goal. As you watch the Rebbe in all of his manifestation, from the simplest levels of his interactions with people and how he behaves on a regular basis, you see that. It’s a refreshing perception of the world. It’s such a challenging view. It’s futuristic.”

Lipskar often shared a memory from his first private audience with the Rebbe, when he was 9 years old. The Rebbe asked each of the children what they were studying. When Sholom’s turn came, the boy told the Rebbe he’d recently committed to memory a portion of Hamafkid, the third chapter in Tractate Bava Metzia. The Rebbe asked him to say it. “I recited the entire [two and a half pages],” Lipskar told Chassidishe Derher magazine in 2020. “It took several minutes, and the Rebbe listened to me closely the entire time.” That the Rebbe, a world leader whose time was so precious, had taken the time to focus solely on him would be a defining lesson for life.

This would hardly be the last time the Rebbe paid close attention to

Lipskar’s progress and needs. From the start, Lipskar’s relationship with the Rebbe was marked by a deep, effusive Chassidic love—a love and dedication that animated his life’s work until the end, and one that he passionately articulated with everyone he encountered.

Pillars and Foundations

At the end of 1968 Sholom met and married Chani Minkowitz, and, at the Rebbe’s instruction, spent the next year studying Torah in kollel. From the beginning, the couple expressed their desire to be sent on shlichut and join the slowly growing ranks of the Rebbe’s army on the frontlines of Jewish life. The Rebbe chose for them Miami and as Rosh Hashanah 1969 approached, the young couple set off for their

new home.

At their final private audience before departing, Chani Lipskar shared with the Rebbe that while she was dedicated to the mission, she feared leaving behind her family and friends, and was worried she might not be up to the job. The Rebbe looked at her and smiled. “Ich fohr doch mit eich!” he exclaimed, “but I am traveling with you!” With that, Chani Lipskar’s fear dissipated. Then the Rebbe added a personal request, “It should be with joy!”

“Looking back, there is no way to explain [the success of our work here despite the many obstacles] if not for the fact that the Rebbe came along with us, quite literally,” Rabbi Lipskar said. “This was something we experienced at every step of the way.”

His first position was as dean and

Rabbi and Rebbetzin

Lipskar at the Colel Chabad dinner

principal of what was called at the time the Oholei Torah Day School in Miami Beach, started three years earlier by the regional director of Chabad-Lubavitch of Florida, Rabbi Avraham Korf. Lipskar hit the ground running. In a January 31, 1970, Miami Herald article titled ‘Generation Gap Begins in School: Parents Too Modern for Students,’ the 24-year-old Lipskar declared that the modern American Jews sending their children to Chabad’s Orthodox day school were returning to their heritage through their children. The children’s daily exposure to authentic Jewish practice in school, Lipskar reported, is causing “an awakening on the part of many parents when they realize their children care about tradition and religious observance.” He predicted the school would double in size by

the following year.

Seemingly unable to do things the way they’d always been done, Lipskar was always innovating. Early on, he launched a program in which the day school’s children would spend Shabbos at the home of one of their teachers, giving them the opportunity to not only learn about Jewish life in school, but experience it in action. One parent, Sheila Elbaz, described herself to the Herald as “a plain old Jew,” nearly an atheist. But something changed after her two sons spent Shabbos in the Chabad community. “They’ve been talking about the food and [the] kiddush. We’re going to try it at home,” she said. “We’re also going to try the Friday night walks [to synagogue].”

By the end of 1970, Oholei Torah had outgrown its home and was renting space in the empty education building

of a Miami Beach synagogue. Around then, Lipskar met a selfmade Miami millionaire named Mel Landow. Lipskar had started a Tuesday evening Torah class— this class went through various iterations, and by the early 1990s, it was still making headlines and drawing as many as 800 people— which attracted a local tennis champion. The player mentioned to the rabbi that he had a regular game with Landow, a major local appliance retailer. “I would like to put on tefillin with him,” Lipskar said immediately.

A meeting was arranged at the tennis club, but Landow declined the tefillin offer. So the rabbi made a bet with him: If their mutual friend beat Landow in their next set, Landow would put on tefillin.

Rabbi Lipskar wraps tefillin with a Jewish inmate

Landow agreed, lost the game, and headed out to Lipskar’s car to make good on his bet. Something about the encounter touched Landow very deeply, and though he told Lipskar he did not want to be asked about tefillin again, he joined the Tuesday night class.

Money had never been easy, and as the school grew—by now it had about 200 children—so did its debt.

During a particularly difficult period in 1972, Landow called Lipskar and told him he was taking his company public and wanted to donate $500,000 for the construction of a new educational campus for Chabad. “Back then, such a large sum was unheard of, and it was only the beginning of Mel Landow’s involvement,” Lipskar told JEM’s My Encounter with the Rebbe oral

history project. “I called the Rebbe[‘s office] right away to give over the good news.”

A few days later, Lipskar received a call from the Rebbe’s chief of staff, Rabbi Chaim Mordechai Aizik Hodakov, telling him it would be a good idea to put on tefillin with Mordechai Shoel, a.k.a. Mel Landow. The young rabbi began explaining to Hodakov that this was a very difficult thing to do. Then he heard the Rebbe’s voice on the line. “I jumped out of my chair,” he recalled. The Rebbe proceeded to say that he was going to pray at the Ohel, the resting place of his father-in-law and predecessor as Lubavitcher Rebbe, and it was an opportune time for Landow to put on tefillin. The Rebbe emphasized that the tefillin Lipskar was to offer Landow should

be visibly beautiful, down to their external cases. Hodakov then told Lipskar to report back on what had transpired.

Landow was playing tennis when Lipskar pulled up. It was his biggest donor, the man who’d thrown Lipskar’s school not only a lifeline, but the opportunity to expand to new heights. He’d also explicitly told him never to ask him to don tefillin again. It’s not that Lipskar wasn’t afraid. He was, but the Rebbe’s instructions were uncontestable to him. “I already told you, it’s not my thing,” Landow told him. “But today is a very important day,” Lipskar responded. “The Rebbe is going to the resting place of his saintly fatherin-law … to say special prayers, and if you would put on tefillin, I’ll let him know.” Suddenly, everything

The shul of Bal Harbor in Surfside, FL

Rabbi Lipskar speaks with Chaplain Michoel Harari

changed. Landow agreed to put on tefillin.

Lipskar rushed to call the Rebbe’s secretariat. The Rebbe was already praying at the Ohel, and when Rabbi Yehuda Krinsky entered to relay the update that Landow had put on tefillin, the Rebbe smiled broadly. A few days later, the Rebbe gifted Landow a brand-new pair of tefillin. Landow prayed with them every weekday for the rest of his life.

About a year later, Landow met the Rebbe in person for the first time. The meeting did not go exactly as Landow had anticipated, with the Rebbe pushing back on his plan to build a health center and tennis club in Israel, suggesting that he invest in education instead. The next day, the Rebbe’s secretary shared with Lipskar what the Rebbe had said about Landow (translation from Yiddish): “I met a person last night that the Almighty G-d gave him merits that even I don’t have. Almighty G-d gave him the merit to open the spigots, the faucets through which he will bring back 100,000 children to the Jewish faith. The foundations of buildings are not what you see, but the foundations,” he said, referring to Landow, “are what hold up the pillars.”

The $2.2 million Landow Yeshiva Center on Alton Road in Miami Beach opened its doors in 1974, enrollment in the school having reached 300 children. That year, too, Yeshiva Gedola of Miami Beach opened its doors, the first such institution south of Baltimore. The Rebbe dispatched 11 rabbinical students from New York to form its founding cohort. Their main mission in Miami would be to study Torah, mentor the students of Landow Yeshiva, and utilize every free moment to share the warmth of Judaism with those around them.

“We expect to change the face of Miami Beach and make it a spiritual haven,” Lipskar declared.

Crisis and Rebirth

Mel Landow’s appliance company went bankrupt in 1976. Difficult years lay ahead for Lipskar and the enterprise he’d been so instrumental in building. There were days, Chani Lipskar recalled, when she’d wake up praying the electricity in her home was still on. Rabbis and teachers who’d joined the burgeoning yeshivah staff started going without paychecks, sometimes for months straight. All of them struggled to put food on their table.

Lipskar soldiered on. “The Lubavitcher Rebbe tells us if we must choose between a child and the budget, we must always choose the child. It is easier to pay a late bill than to reclaim a child lost to Judaism,” he declared to the Herald in March 1977. “Who are we to tell a parent your child can’t be a part of Judaism because you don’t have enough money.”

By the end of 1979, the pressure was taking its toll on Lipskar. As he battled one emergency after another, relationships with both creditors and personnel suffered, leading to disagreement about the Landow Yeshiva—Lubavitch Educational Center’s path forward. For a time, Lipskar entertained leaving Miami to pursue Chabad work with university students in the Northeast. The Rebbe did not reject the idea outright, saying that while he preferred for him to remain in Miami, it was Lipskar’s choice. Upon hearing the Rebbe’s preference, he stayed.

The question was what Lipskar should focus on. The Rebbe granted

him a year’s “leave of absence,” later extending it to a year and a half. He spent the time studying, thinking, writing and lecturing in the United States and abroad. A benefactor also sponsored him to attend every one of the Rebbe’s farbrengen gatherings in person, and he’d fly into New York for those occasions from wherever he was in the world.

It had been dedication to the Rebbe’s ideas and mission that had pulled him out of difficult times before. Back in 1972, Lipskar had been diagnosed with a heart murmur and underwent surgery. While the procedure had gone well, the situation quickly turned critical when Lipskar could not be woken up from the general anesthesia. Chani Lipskar frantically called the Rebbe’s secretariat to request the Rebbe’s immediate blessing. Rabbi Hodakov had taken the call, and asked her for a number to reach her at. A few minutes later, he rang again. “I need to speak to your husband,” he told her. Chani responded that it was impossible—her husband was unresponsive. “Did you hear what I said?” Hodakov repeated. “I have directions from the Rebbe to speak to your husband. The Rebbe has a job for him.”

Overriding the nurses’ objections, Chani arranged for Hodakov to call the phone outside of Lipskar’s hospital room, pulling it inside and placing the receiver at her husband’s ear. The next thing the rabbi knew he heard Hodakov’s voice: “The Rebbe said that you should call the university in Winnipeg to organize a reception for Prof. Herman Branover when he visits there.” Lipskar could make out the Rebbe’s voice in the background as well. Branover was a noted Soviet Jewish scientist who’d become observant behind the Iron Curtain and had recently

been granted permission to leave the USSR. Hodakov went on to say that from Canada, Branover would come to Miami, where Lipskar should introduce him to people in his academic field.

The fact that the Rebbe had a job for him to fulfill had literally revived him. Branover did indeed come to Miami to lecture, and his relationship with Lipskar would later also birth the Miami International Torah and Science Conference.

Just as dedication to the Rebbe’s work had restored him years earlier, so too would it now. After Pesach 5741 (1981), Lipskar had a 46-minute private audience with the Rebbe— such audiences were rare following the Rebbe’s heart attack three years

prior—during which the Rebbe gave Lipskar pivotal guidance for the future.

A short while later, a Montreal developer named Sam Greenberg shared his plans for new construction in Bal Harbour with the Rebbe, who asked him why there was no synagogue in the town yet. Greenberg knew Lipskar from Miami Beach, and invited him to come to Bal Harbour. Lipskar, in turn asked the Rebbe whether this was the right thing for him, receiving the answer “nachon ha’davar,” or “this is the correct choice.” Direction in hand, he was off.

Lipskar opened the Shul of Bal Harbour with little fanfare in December 1981, hosting services

in a store on the basement-level shopping arcade of the Beau Rivage Hotel. It was small at first, the Lipskars coming up each week from Miami Beach and staying with their two small children in a motel, but the venture quickly expanded.

“There were very few Jews living in Bal Harbour at the time,” recalls George Rohr. In fact, as late as 1982, the oldest and nicest neighborhood in the village had active deed restrictions in place requiring properties not be sold to people “with more than one-fourth Hebrew or Syrian blood.” Meanwhile, the beach side of Collins Avenue was being developed, and it was to these large new condo buildings that Jews were moving, including Latin American Jews leaving the

instability of their home countries.

The Rohrs initially rented in the area, purchasing their home only once it was clear that the Lipskars were becoming a vibrant presence in Bal Harbour. “Already then you could sense tremendous momentum,” he says. “My father would often speak admiringly about the creativity and force of personality that Rabbi Lipskar brought to bear building this community—he was thinking very big from the very beginning.”

Many of the Jews living in the area hadn’t been involved with their Judaism in any real way in decades— if ever. “I haven’t gone to Simchat Torah since I was a kid carrying a flag with an apple on it 60 years ago,” 69-year-old Saul Tabb told the Miami Herald at the time. “I’m not going to call it a miracle, but [Rabbi Lipskar] gave me the inspiration I was looking for. He gave me faith I can’t explain but that I just feel good about.” A year later, the Herald wrote about Harry Persky, an 82-year-old snowbird who hadn’t put on tefillin since before World War I. “My faith was not a daily practice,” he said. “Now it is.”

“Every speech that he gave in the Shul, people were mesmerized,” recalls Moshe Tabacinic. “At that time, the majority of the crowd was not actually observant, and the Shul that he eventually built was really created with his Baalei Teshuvah [returnees to Jewish practice]. He was able to give strength and reinforce the kernels of people’s Judaism, and nurture it to grow.”

“We moved to Bal Harbour in 1987 because of the Shul, because of the rabbi and the rebbetzin, and because we wanted to be a part of this community,” says Jana Falic, a Bal Harbour resident. Following the familiar pattern, her family’s

connection with Lipskar stretched back to the ‘70s, when Lipskar used to visit her husband Simon’s father at his little jewelry shop on 41st Street in Miami. When she got married in 1979, Lipskar officiated.

“He was like a part of our family— you think I’m just saying that, but it’s true,” she says. “He married me, he named my children, he married my four children, and he named my grandchildren.”

Falic notes that Lipskar treated everyone with respect. “He was as good with a child as he was with the prime minister of Israel,” she says. He also never shied from pressing people to steadily advance in their personal mitzvah observance, whether laypeople or major donors. This was the path to a life of connection and meaning, he’d share from the Rebbe, the Jew’s connection to the Divine—it was for everyone.

“A big part of his connection with people lay in his ability to inspire everyone -- regardless of age, background, or profession-- to recognize their own importance to the Jewish story,” explains Rohr. “He made you understand that you couldn’t just be a spectator; you were an essential partner in shaping the future of the Jewish people. Whether you were a donor, a teenager, or someone just beginning to explore your heritage, he empowered you to take ownership and responsibility. His message was clear: if you know aleph, you teach aleph. Everyone has something to give, and everyone is needed.”

Between Lipskar’s speeches, classes, counseling—it was not unusual to see the cars of people he was counseling parked outside his home at 2 a.m.—and sheer passion for Judaism, The Shul kept growing.

They rented space in a shoe store, then in the Sheraton, and then a larger storefront before breaking ground on their 80,000 square foot new building in 1991. Lipskar himself rammed a bulldozer into one of the old motels sitting on the property during the ceremony. The building was finished three years later, becoming not only a South Florida landmark, but also breaking the mold of what a Chabad center could—and should—look like.

“At a critical time, Rabbi Lipskar modeled for his fellow Chabad Shluchim what visionary leadership looks like,” Rohr continues. “He didn’t just dream big—he inspired others to dream with him, and he articulated those dreams in ways that felt natural and achievable to everyone: donors, community leaders, city officials, and beyond. Bal Harbour started with nothing. But one man’s tenacity, vision, and unwavering belief in people’s potential showed us all what could be accomplished. Rabbi Lipskar’s legacy is not just what he built, but how he empowered others to build alongside him.”

Lipskar’s lifelong motto was “over the top,” words he used to convey the Chassidic aphorism “lechatchila ariber” that the Rebbe had written in a letter to him. There was no time to aim for mediocrity, only excellence.

“That’s what the Rebbe taught us,” he said. “We have a responsibility to the whole world, that’s our job, that’s who we are.”

Dovid Margolin is a senior editor at Chabad.org, writing on social policy, Jewish life, and Jewish history, with a particular interest in Russian Jewry. Abridged and reprinted with permission from Chabad.org. For the full article, go to Chabad.org/6899949

Dedicated with everlasting gratitude

To the shliach of the Rebbe to Bal Harbour and Surfside, Florida.

The founder of Aleph International, which continues to impact the lives of thousands who might otherwise feel alone.

A lifelong supporter in word and deed of Colel Chabad. A regular presence at the Colel Chabad annual Awards Event, where he emulated the Eibershter, the Father of Orphans and Justice of Widows.

Rabbi Sholom D. Lipskar

ה"ע

Colel Chabad extends its heartfelt condolences to his community of thousands, to the many students he mentored in his decades of leadership, and to the countless Yidden around the world whose lives were impacted by this giant, and who are mourning his loss.

We extend our heartfelt condolences to his wife Rebbetzin Chani א"טילתש, his children Devorah Leah and Yanky Andrusier and Rabbi Zalman and Chana A. Lipskar; his grandchildren; his siblings, Rabbi Mendel and Mashi Lipskar, Rabbi Yossi and Batya Lipskar, and Mrs. Sheva and Rabbi Ovadia Schochet; and his entire immediate and extended family and community.

We also draw strength from the knowledge that his legacy lives on. We share deep admiration and encouragement to his son

Rabbi Zalman Lipskar

א''טילש

as he follows his father’s footsteps continuing the holy work with passion, vision, and devotion.

May his efforts bring continued light to the world, and may he be blessed to carry this sacred mantle until the coming of Moshiach.

Signed, in the name of the staff, beneficiaries and benefactors of Colel Chabad, Rabbi Sholom Duchman

Lifelong Help to Israel’s Poor

By Rabbi Zalman Duchman — Colel Chabad

Every summer, during the sweltering heat, when Miami is quieter and the locals like it better, Rabbi Sholom DovBer Lipskar, of blessed memory, would travel from his hometown — and not to somewhere cool. He would make it a priority to spend a significant amount of time in Eretz Yisroel, to stand beside the widows and orphans at Colel Chabad’s annual awards event.

Together with his wife Chani, Rabbi Lipskar would personally greet each orphan, distribute awards, and extend deep personal warmth. He remembered their names, knew their stories, and made them feel seen.

Rabbi Lipskar once said that much of what he knew about dealing with people he learned simply by watching the Rebbe—how the Rebbe looked someone in the eye, how he listened, how he gave dignity to every Jew. He also learned this from his parents,

Eliezer Akiva and Mrs. Bela Rachel Lipskar, who maintained a home in Toronto that was a hub of chessed and hachnasas orchim.

In truth, Rabbi Lipskar’s father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather were each involved in Colel Chabad, the longestrunning charity in Eretz Yisroel. It traces its roots to the Alter Rebbe and provides food, medical care, and support to widows, orphans, children at risk, and needy families.

Rabbi Lipskar’s father served as the chairman of Colel Chabad’s annual Toronto fundraiser. It was in this home that the seeds of his dedication were planted. When he was a little older, he traveled to New York for yeshiva, living in the home of his grandfather and my namesake—Reb Zalman Duchman.

I recall Rabbi Lipskar relating how excited his grandfather was when, on

5 Menachem Av 5722—leading up to Shnas Hakan, the year that marked 150 years since the Alter Rebbe’s yahrtzeit—he received a letter from the Rebbe describing the importance of Colel Chabad and supporting it.

In that letter, the Rebbe wrote, “הביח

— “The Rebbeim showed a special affection for activities that benefit Colel Chabad.” On Rabbi Lipskar’s matzeivah, his תדחוימ

— his special affection for Eretz Yisroel, is mentioned as well.

During the formative years of Colel Chabad’s global expansion, Rabbi Lipskar traveled extensively with my father, Rabbi Sholom Duchman, introducing him to many key figures and donors, especially in South America and Canada. My father described how Rabbi Lipskar taught him the finer points of how to teach, how to ask, and how to write. His presence alone opened doors, his words opened hearts, and his sincerity opened the possibility for many to become part of the mission of Colel Chabad.

We mourn the loss of Rabbi Sholom DovBer Lipskar—a man of vision, compassion, and unwavering dedication. His legacy lives on in the countless lives he touched, in the orphans he uplifted, and in every act of kindness we do inspired by his example. May we honor his memory not only by remembering, but by doing. By emulating the Rebbe, just as he did.

Reb

Rabbi and Rebbetzin Lipskar at an awards ceremony for students organized by Colel Chabad in Israel

PerspectiveShlichus-First

Rabbi Sholom Ber Lipskar was not just the founder of the Aleph Institute, but a massive proponent of the Aleph Military program, which supports Jewish spiritual needs in the U.S. Armed Forces. He was a guiding force for us whenever we had significant questions. But the biggest impact he had on me was his ‘shlichus-first’ perspective.

It happened in 2021, when we held our 14th annual Aleph Military Symposium. That year was the first time that we had representation from all three Chiefs of Chaplains — the Army, Air Force, and Navy, each a two-star Flag Officer. This was a big deal — in the 13 years up to that point, a single Chief of Chaplains had come a few times; only one other time had we managed to get two active Chiefs. Now we had all three. So this was a very big deal for us.

After the three Chiefs of Chaplains finished speaking, Rabbi Lipskar immediately went up to the microphone and addressed the Chiefs directly.

I was sure he would thank them for coming, talk about Aleph’s work, and bask in the pride of this accomplishment. To my surprise, he immediately started talking to them about the possibility of bringing a Moment of Silence into the United States military. He beautifully described the value it would bring the military, talking about the

By Chaplain Maj. Elie Estrin, Director of Military Programs for the Aleph Institute

high rates of suicide, and how this moment of connection can help so many realign themselves spiritually, mentally, and emotionally.

I recall how one of the Chiefs said, “No, we can’t do that.” Then, after just a moment, he said, “Wait, we actually would need to think about it.”

Thus far, although it remains something we’ve tried to achieve in a variety of ways, this project has not been accomplished. The fact is that it’s a very difficult project to be able to bring into the military for many reasons. But the value of seeing this interaction was seeing Rabbi Lipskar’s singular focus on accomplishing something that the Rebbe wanted. He immediately went to a shlichus element, as opposed to merely being proud of Aleph's legitimate

accomplishments.

That was really a remarkable moment. It taught me that when you meet such people — people who are in significant positions of power and influence — the goal shouldn’t just be to make them proud of Chabad, to make them feel good about the fact that we’re meeting with them and that they know who we are. That’s all great from a P.R. perspective, but it’s not the mission.

Instead, I learned from Rabbi Lipskar that we need to have a practical application, a practical focus on something dear to the Rebbe’s heart that we introduce to movers and shakers, pushing them to understand it and to consider bringing it into their own areas of influence. Shlichus first; remain focused on the mission.

Rabbi Lipskar speaks with US Air Force Lieutenant General Michael Plehn at the 2020 Aleph Military Symposium

An Unshakeable

My relationship with Rabbi Sholom Ber Lipskar goes back to 2007. Whenever an issue arose in my life, big or small, I always knew I had a place to go for advice, love, guidance, and comfort. In 2021, a relative of mine was diagnosed with something serious, but the details of the diagnosis hadn’t yet been determined: it was either one thing that was treatable, or another thing that would be terminal within six months. I went to Rabbi Lipskar and said, “You are a shliach of the Rebbe, and shlucho shel odom kemoso — an emissary is like the person himself — give me a bracha on behalf of the Rebbe that it will be the other diagnosis, the treatable one.”

Rabbi Lipskar, with zero hesitation, replied, “I’ll make a deal with you on behalf of the Rebbe. If you start learning a Torah shiur with a friend who wouldn't otherwise be joining a shiur every week, it’s going to be the good diagnosis.”

So I called my friend Zalmi Duchman and said, “Let's do a shiur together.” He immediately agreed. We started learning once a week with my brother Aryeh, and two weeks later, the diagnosis came back — and it was, of course, the better diagnosis.

Bond

As told by David Schottenstein to Tzemach Feller

Four years later, we've never missed a shiur — other than when I was away, and even then we did it over email — and that family member is, thank G-d, doing great.

When the news first came out about my legal situation, there was unfortunately a cloud of doubt surrounding some of the circumstances, with some very false and very serious allegations being made. Rabbi Lipskar’s support for me was unwavering and steadfast, from the beginning to the end of the ordeal.

In March of 2023, I was sentenced to a prison term for insider trading. At one point during my time in prison camp (which BH ended up lasting only 84 days), I wasn't in the greatest place, not knowing when I would be going home and having not seen my family members in over a month, as my visiting privileges had been cruelly taken away. Rabbi Lipskar himself got on a plane and made the trek to visit me at the Federal Correctional Institution in Otisville, New York. It’s not an easy trip to make, but of course, that didn't stop him. He sat with me for a long period of time while I cried with him and he comforted me. He literally held me

in his arms, the way a father would hold his child, lifting me up. When he left, I was like a different person. Almost exactly one month later, I was standing in his office at The Shul back home in Miami, hugging him, and this time crying tears of joy and gratitude.

There is an amazing Rabbi Lipskar story that I experienced personally and shared recently. Throughout my whole legal ordeal, my friend Zalmi stood behind me publicly—and took a lot of heat for it. He called me up one day, and said, “I need you to send me your Hebrew name, and the names of your family members. I’m going to the Ohel, and I’m going to ask the Rebbe for a sign whether I’m doing the right thing.”

He later called me and said, “The Rebbe just spoke to me!” As he left the Ohel, he stopped by the welcome center at the Ohel, where a video of the Rebbe constantly plays. On the screen, there was a video of philanthropist Sami Rohr speaking to the Rebbe during a yechidus for donors of the Machne Israel Development Fund.

Sami Rohr: “I came to thank the Rebbe — a big thank you, because

Rabbi Lipskar honors David and Eda Schottenstein for their philanthropy

day of Shavuos said that every person should teach a class with others. Rabbi Lipskar in Miami strongly encouraged me to teach people. I now give a class. And in my entire life, I haven’t learned as much as I do now, because I have to prepare for the class!”

The Rebbe: “That’s a very good thing. A very good thing.”

Sami Rohr: “It’s very good, and for this I came just to tell the Rebbe: thank you. A big thank you.”

The Rebbe: “You should add a few minutes to the class. My influence should be recognizable.”

Zalmi was completely blown away, because as people continued to criticize him for defending me, he had gone to Rabbi Lipskar for advice. Rabbi Lipskar had told him emphatically and without any hesitation, “Stand behind him 100% as I am doing, I know the truth and the truth will come out!”

So Zalmi was blown away by this double sign — here he sees a video where the Rebbe is discussing Rabbi Lipskar and discussing starting a shiur, which we had done together on Rabbi Lipskar’s advice as part

A few hours later, Zalmi found the video he had seen at the Ohel and sent it to me, and my world changed.

As I am watching the video, it zooms in on Sami Rohr’s name tag, and I recognized the name tag right away. As a child, I would join my father, Tuvia Schottenstein, and my uncle, William (Billy) Schottenstein, for these special moments with the Rebbe. And then I see myself in the background in the video, right in between Sami and the Rebbe. I was nine years old, visible right in the crook of the Rebbe’s holy arm. I excitedly called Zalmi, shouting, “I am in the video!!” We were both dumbstruck. A clearer message could not have been received.

After that, I always felt that the Rebbe was caring for me, and Rabbi Lipskar’s brachos to me on behalf of the Rebbe all came to fruition, both with regards to the health of my family member and with regards to the legal situation and the truth coming out.

Whenever I encountered an obstacle the rest of the way I thought back to this story and immediately felt

carrying me. When I shared the story with Rabbi Lipskar and showed him the video, he wasn’t one bit surprised. He said, “Of course, the Rebbe is carrying you. What did you think?”

There are so many pieces to Rabbi Lipskar’s legacy, with Aleph being one of them. It’s hard to comprehend what Rabbi Lipskar created with that organization alone. While I was always a supporter of Aleph, I never imagined that the organization would become such an important part of my family’s life. Our support now extends beyond just financial support, as my wife and I are actively involved with advocacy and other projects. Over the last two years, any time we have had a big win on the advocacy front, I would run to share it with Rabbi Lipskar. You could see the true joy it brought him, his smile radiating and lighting up the room. I certainly plan on doing my part to help continue Rabbi Lipskar’s incredible legacy and will help to grow it tremendously. As Rabbi Lipskar always said, “Get it done!” and “Over the top!” There is no other way!

Saluting the Life and Legacy of a True Chossid and Shliach

A trailblazer whose innovation and dedication to the Rebbe’s mission served as a role model for countless Shluchim and organizations around the world. He consistently made himself available to pilot and participate in new initiatives, always ready to partner in advancing the Rebbe’s vision.

Rabbi Sholom D. Lipskar

We extend our heartfelt wishes of comfort and continued strength to his wife, family, fellow Shluchim, and the entire community.

Rabbi Mendy Kotlarsky and the Merkos 302 Team

We lost our

“accomplished” first cousin

Rabbi Sholom D. Lipskar

Forever in our hearts and our actions

Mendel and C. Rochel Duchman

Los Angeles California

By Yoni Brown

Own It!

How Rabbi Ari Sollish of The Torah Center ATL Teaches Torah

Blowing shofar at an event during Elul in the Beth Tefillah shul in Atlanta

Rabbi Ari and Leah Sollish with their six children

Acold downpour drenched Manhattan on a Wednesday night in 2001 as the spiritually curious crowd that had gathered to hear Rabbi Simon Jacobson’s weekly chasidus class went home one by one. But Rabbi Ari Sollish, a twenty-one-yearold bochur learning semicha in 770, had no umbrella. Neither did his friends. So Rabbi Jacobson offered them a ride back to Crown Heights.

Sollish, born in 1979 and raised in Pittsburgh, had spent his whole life in Chabad yeshivos. In Morristown, he’d been deeply impacted by the legendary mashpia Reb Meilech Zweibel. And now, each Wednesday, he and his friends rode New York’s subterranean railways to hear Rabbi Jacobson speak. “He could speak for ninety minutes without using a single word that sounded like a ma’amer, but the whole thing was chasidus,” he says. “I was blown away.” Now, in the car, he had a question to ask.

The Week in Review, a weekly essay on the Rebbe’s sichos by Rabbi Yanki Yauber that Sollish viewed as “some of the best Jewish writing of all time,” had begun recycling old content. His friend group, who devoured and analyzed the essays each Friday night, had noticed. Now, he was in the editor’s car. “Would you consider a new writer?” he asked Rabbi Jacobson. “Absolutely.” He mustered his courage. “Would you consider me?”

Rabbi Jacobson promptly gave him a desk and a steady stream of editorial advice. “Then, as now, Rabbi Jacobson makes a real effort to cultivate talent,” Rabbi Sollish says. “The first thing he told me was, ‘The reader isn’t necessarily interested in what’s bothering Rashi, you

have to start with something from their experience.’” New editions of the Week in Review rolled off the printing presses once more.

Then, Kehos came knocking. Would he translate a ma’amor for the newly incepted Chasidic Heritage Series? Yes, he would. His translation of the Alter Rebbe’s Veyoshet Hamelech l’Esther entered countless libraries worldwide bearing the title Journey of the Soul. Within a year, he was managing editor of Kehos’ English department. Then, he and Leah Kesselman were married. Shlichus beckoned. Writing, while impactful, fell short of his long-held aspiration: teaching Torah.

“One of the difficult things with writing is that you spend the whole day behind a desk,” Rabbi Sollish recalls, “Thousands might read something you write, and only twenty people will come to your class, but I wanted that opportunity for a more personal connection.” That opportunity came in 2006 with his appointment as the adult education director at Chabad Intown in Atlanta, Georgia.

For Rabbi Sollish, who admittedly “loves learning,” the position was a dream come true. “Nothing thrills me like teaching Torah,” he laughs. And, although teaching a sicha is nothing like translating one, his days tapping away at a keyboard in Brooklyn had taught him valuable lessons. “Before writing or translating, I’d try to ensure that I didn’t just understand it intellectually, but that it impacts me in a real, deep way. It’s the same when preparing a class. Teaching from the heart, not just the head, gives people an experience to connect with instead of just information.” But the new job still had a few lessons to teach him.

“I remember the first time I taught a

JLI course,” he recalls. His spiralbound teacher’s manual and a looseleaf stack of handwritten notes took turns spilling off the lectern. “I came home and said, ‘I don’t know if this is going to work.’” The experience taught him that “you can’t teach someone else’s class.” Now, before teaching a JLI course, he rewrites the entire lesson into ten pages of bullet-pointed notes. “You must own the material. If you’re teaching a class, it has to be your class. You can’t teach someone else’s class—and if that means taking out material or adding your own, do it,” he says. This thorough preparation process allows him to teach lessons from a thirteen-year-old course with minimal preparation.

There are other benefits, too. “When opening a class,” Rabbi Sollish says, “you have to start with high energy; you need to believe that this will be the best class your students have ever attended.” Owning the lesson material makes that confidence possible. “If I’m not excited about a lesson, I’m not ready to teach it. The preparation process has to bring me to a place where I’m genuinely excited to teach it,” he says.

Taking a high-energy approach helps the class stay engaging without multimedia. “I don’t use PowerPoints much,” he admits. “I used to, but found myself clicking back and forth, pulling people’s attention from me to the screen and back again, it interrupted my focus.” Now, unless a video or image can say something he can’t say himself, he won’t use it. “If the class’s story involves music, for example, we’ll play that video—I’m not great at singing sheet music.”

Some students are visual learners, but he prefers to think of teaching as storytelling, not maximally efficient information delivery. “Even if it’s a very conceptual class, I try to tell a

With a large following all over Atlanta, Rabbi Sollish's events are popular and well attended

Rabbi Sollish speaks at an event in the Beth Tefillah sanctuary

story about the ideas, with a narrative arc, and a tension that gets resolved,” he says. Then, every five minutes or so, if he spots wandering eyes and perhaps a stray yawn, he breaks things up with stories. “I try to keep it fun,” he says. “And nothing gets people invested like a terribly corny joke— even if it bombs, it gets people in.”

Rabbi Sollish finds that openness, honesty, and a willingness to admit ignorance help take the pressure out of teaching. “In almost every class, someone asks a question where I just say, ‘I don’t know.’ There’s nothing embarrassing about that.”

After sixteen years, nearly five thousand classes, and countless students at the Intown Jewish Academy, Rabbi Sollish’s ultimate vision was taking shape: to create a central place where anyone can come to pursue their learning and become a more knowledgeable Jew. In 2022, that vision came to life when he, his wife, and six children moved to Atlanta’s Sandy Springs suburb and launched The Torah Center ATL.

Rabbi Sollish had come to Atlanta as part of a push to expand Chabad’s focus on limud haTorah. “As shluchim, we excel at frontline Judaism,” he says, “For a long time now, I’ve been working on building out the second step, taking people on a journey deeper, so that when someone becomes really serious about learning, we have programming for them.”

The Torah Center ATL, centrally located in a vibrant community of an estimated 30,000 Jews, has the demographic base to support that vision. “We offer classes for everyone,” he says, “everything from beginner’s Hebrew classes to Sunday kollel and beis medrash night for people who are frum. Whatever your stage and interest, there’s something for you.” Sixty retirees come every Monday for lunch and a class by Rabbi Yonatan Hambourger. Once a month, businesspeople spend their lunch hour learning Torah at Chabad at the Dupree, a class led by a rotation of Atlanta shluchim. Plus, Rabbi Tzvi

Freeman teaches an acclaimed weekly Tanya class. “Being able to facilitate all this learning is incredible,” Rabbi Sollish says. “Very few things impact someone as deeply as limud haTorah.”

“Many people who come to classes remember the Judaism they understood in school, but as they got older, they dismissed it. So when you can give people an appreciation for the Torah’s depth and sophistication, whether it’s an idea in chasidus or nigleh, they really appreciate it.” And he adds, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard the words, ‘Rabbi, I never knew this about Judaism before.’”

Ultimately, Rabbi Sollish, who is now forty-six, hopes to enable people to dive into Torah learning on their own. “In the long run, few people just want to come to class after class for twenty years; they need a pathway so that one day they can give the class— we need to give people the ability to engage in limud haTorah on their own, whether with a chavrusa or by sharing in some way.”

Perhaps recalling how a rainy night’s drive from Manhattan gave him his start, Rabbi Sollish publishes a community magazine. “It’s a creative outlet where people can engage their own creativity and contribute their own voice,” he says, adding, “People want to be invested, and to make them invested, all you have to do is give them the tools to be a part of this magnificent divine gift we call the Torah.”

The podcast where Rabbi Ari Sollish uploads his classes:

We join family friends and the worldwide Jewish community in mourning the deep loss of the legendary Shliach

Rabbi Sholom B. Lipskar ה"ע

whose trailblazing efforts in his Shlichus inspired and uplifted so many shluchim, individuals and communities across a variety of backgrounds and stations in life.

Together with his dear wife, Chani, his children Zalmy and Dvorah Leah and their families (may they be well), he literally introduced thousands to Yiddishkeit, and innumerable more Yidden to a higher level of observance and deeper appreciation for the Rebbe, always reminding us all to remember those otherwise forgotten. He brought the highest fliers back to earth and spiritual focus, and lifted up the ones who somehow fell between the cracks.

He loved and he cared and people felt it.

He will be missed, to be sure. But his brand endures, as Shluchim everywhere continue to “get it done” in the signature manner of Lechatchila Ariber “over the top” - until we reach the apex of creation soon in our day, with our Rebbe at our helm.

Rabbi Levi and Nechama Shemtov

Washington, DC

By Yisroel Alperovitch - Kfar Chabad Magazine

IN THE NAME OF HER SON

Tali Levi found strength at the Ohel after her son’s heroism on October 7

T“The Lubavitcher Rebbe, on the 28th of Nissan, tearfully addressed the Chassidim and said: ‘The only thing I can still do is to give it over to each and every one of you—do everything in your power to bring about the coming of Moshiach in actual reality.’”

This is a statement that one expects to hear at a Chassidic farbrengen, rather than during a ceremony marking Yom Hazikaron last month, Israel’s memorial day for the fallen soldiers and victims of terror. Yet, those were the words of Mrs. Tali Levi, a bereaved mother, during the event held in Moreshet, a frum town in the Lower Galilee.

Her son, IDF Staff Sergeant Yakir Levi, a combat soldier in the 13th Battalion of the Golani Brigade, was killed in battle on Simchas Torah, the 22nd of Tishrei 5784 - October 7, 2023. He was 21 years old.

In her speech, his mother stated: “In the name of Hashem, in the name of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, in the name of my beloved son, may Hashem avenge his blood, and in the name of all the heroic families, I appeal to all of Am Yisrael to believe and to act to hasten the Geulah, the rebuilding of the Beit Hamikdash, and the resurrection of the dead. Even though he may delay, I will wait for him every day that he may come.”

Her impassioned words, said with a tichel covering her hair, gave the public a glimpse into a special woman who, with great emotional strength, has risen from her personal grief from the vicious assault by Hamas terrorists on the Holy Land. She was now encouraging others to see the ultimate redemption as an actual reality.

The following is the story as she told it.

OUR SON’S HEROISM

We live in the community of Moreshet in the Lower Galilee, the only religious settlement surrounded by Arab villages. At 9 in the morning on Simchas Torah, I was getting the kids ready to go out for hakafos at shul, when my husband came back from davening and said a war had broken out—and I screamed.

at least eat the holiday meal. After that, again, no information. I called the company commander and asked if he knew anything. He said, ‘I don’t know—I’m in the middle of a battle.’ I screamed at him, but it didn’t help.

We later heard what happened:

“Our goal is to bring the Geulah, and it won’t happen if people just keep going about their lives as usual,” Tali Levi says

We still went to the hakafos. In the shul, everyone was looking for information, and the rabbi said that whoever needed details should make phone calls. So we called, but Yakir didn’t answer—he had turned off his phone. Yakir was at the Paga outpost, which the IDF internally referred to as the "Be'eri protector" because of its proximity to the kibbutz. He was the commander of the mortar unit of the Golani Brigade.

Only at 12 o’clock did we get a message from the platoon commander that he had received a report from the sergeant major about the current personnel and that Yakir had been seen. We were relieved and managed to

Yakir got up like every morning for his shift at 5:30 am, and at 6:30, when the rockets began, they started to take cover. Then they realized it was continuing. In the mortar unit, they’re more exposed than any other part of the outpost, so they came to operate the mortars, and that’s when they realized that dozens of terrorists were already inside. In the first volley of fire, some were killed and others wounded.

Yakir managed to get inside the outpost. There is an iron door at the entrance—whoever is behind it is supposed to be protected—but the terrorists managed to get inside. A battle that lasted for hours broke out, and around 11 a.m., an order came to gather in the (protected) dining hall. The plan was for a force to arrive and eliminate all the terrorists outside, but that didn’t happen. They remained in the dining hall for hours, while the terrorists tried to suffocate them and threw many grenades.

Meanwhile, Yakir helped the wounded because he had received MDA (Magen David Adom) training. He would also go out from time to time to kill terrorists outside the building. Around 2 p.m., he and three others left the dining hall, went out, were hit by enemy fire, and returned fire. All four were killed.

Then there was silence—the terrorists were either killed or fled

because they realized there was return fire. That remained the case until 5 p.m., when Israeli forces arrived and rescued the 24 soldiers who had simply been sitting and waiting in the dining hall.

It turned out that Yakir gave his life to save fellow soldiers. There were close to eighty terrorists killed there, and that definitely prevented many more from reaching nearby communities.

After the Yomtov ended, we tried calling the operations officer— he didn’t know anything. The platoon commander himself had been wounded and was taken to a hospital. Everything was foggy. Only on Monday at four in the morning did we get the knock on the door with the news...

RESPITE IN AMERICA

Yakir had a friend from their time learning at the Eitan preparatory program. When they parted, the friend was feeling down because he hadn’t been assigned the role he had hoped for. So Yakir sent him a voice note with very moving words:

“Listen, there’s not much point crying over spilled milk, my brother—crying about the past, about what happened. What you need to do now is really look for where you’ll be better off. Try to advance toward that. Aim to get there. Talk to people who can help you. Try to get to a place where you know things can be better than where you are now.”

Yakir then added the following

AAsaf Shlomo and Tali Levi with 4 of their children outside 770 Eastern Parkway

Ylines: “Don’t forget to smile. Keep smiling! Give that smile during the day, and it will already help you put things into perspective.” We turned those final words—‘Don’t forget to smile’—into a sticker and have been giving it out to everyone we meet.

We were raised, educated, and have always taught others to love the Land of Israel—but for me personally, after everything that happened, it became very hard to feel that love. Yakir saw this from Heaven and decided to take me, my husband, and our three little ones on a journey to breathe again…

A family from Florida who had heard our story and felt a connection with us reached out and invited us to get away and visit them, and so we did. We stayed with them, and I felt like Yakir led me on a kind of journey back to loving the Land. The family helped us a lot. At some point, they said they wanted us to go with them to New York. We flew to New York and toured around, and while we were walking in Manhattan, I said to the woman, ‘I want to go to the Rebbe.’

She said it was a bit far. Hashem helped—and suddenly I got a message from my nephew from Netanya, Israel. It turned out he was also in New York, staying with friends, on a similar kind of emotional break. He asked me where I was, and I told him, ‘In Manhattan.’ He said, ‘I’m coming right away.’ He came, we met up, and he asked, ‘What do you want to do?’ I said, ‘To

go to the Rebbe.’ He told our hostess, ‘You’re free—I’ll take them from here.’

We got to 770, and there, another incredible moment of hashgacha protis happened: there was someone who wanted to take our picture and delayed us for a few minutes. Then, just as we finished taking the photo, a young man arrived and asked where we were from. We talked a bit, and it turned out my husband knows his father—they used to pray together in Netanya years ago, when we lived there 14 years ago. We took a photo and my husband sent it to his father.

Then the young man took the time to show us around every corner of 770: where the Rebbe davened and where he farbrenged, where he held private audiences and gave talks.

BOOK OF COMFORT

We also visited the WLCC room—the place from which the Rebbe’s farbrengens were broadcast to the entire world, and were met by the manager, Rabbi Mendel Eisenbach, who received us very warmly. He then gifted us a book in Hebrew titled ‘Where Have You Gone?’

It’s a compilation of answers from the Rebbe to letters he received from bereaved families after the Yom Kippur War.

I was captivated by the book. I found answers to my own questions in it. My heart opened wide, and the Rebbe entered deeply into my soul. After they showed us a video of the Rebbe,

Yakir Levi’s younger brothers Yanai and Yinon visits the WLCC broadcasting room at 770 and the Rebbe’s Ohel

we said we wanted to go to the Ohel.

To our surprise, we found out that in an hour and a half, a shuttle would be leaving from 770 to the Ohel. We were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of hashgacha protis we saw at every turn. We truly felt the Rebbe was looking out for us. They suggested we go eat in a kosher restaurant in Crown Heights in the meantime, so we did—and after an hour and a half, we were on the bus on our way to the Ohel.

When we arrived, a young bochur was already waiting for us and asked, ‘Are you the Levi family?’ Then he took us with him. My husband went to daven Mincha together with my nephew, and the young man brought me to the place where people write letters. I saw a large picture of the Rebbe there, and I turned to him and asked: “Why did you call me here? What is the reason you brought me to this place?”

The guide then brought me a book with a letter from the Rebbe to a widow, in which the Rebbe wrote: “Don’t worry, there will be joy in your home.” It was exactly what I needed to hear—because I wanted to have a wedding in our home. Yakir was our second son, and we have another older son who is single. And here the Rebbe was responding to that exact longing—it touched me deeply.

The young man explained how to write a letter to the Rebbe, and I wrote that I want techiyas hameisim (resurrection of the dead), and that the Rebbe should bless each of our

children. He explained to us about reciting Tehillim inside the Ohel. We went in and davened, and came out feeling uplifted. We thanked them and returned to our lodging with two books. A few days later, when we returned to Israel, I felt that I had left feeling turbulent and had returned full of love.

Before Yom Hazikaron in our town, I was asked to represent the bereaved parents. I sat down to write the speech and did a kind of hitbodedus (personal meditation), something Yakir used to do and taught me to do as well. I lit a candle for the Rebbe and asked Hashem to help me express what He wants to be heard at the ceremony.

That morning, I went to drop my child off at kindergarten. The Chabadnik teacher started a conversation with me. During our chat, she mentioned how the Rebbe once came out to his students and, with tears in his eyes, said the words: ‘Do everything within your power to bring Moshiach.’

I told her I was going to speak at the ceremony and would say these words. She photographed the quote for me from the source, and that’s what I said to the crowd.

After the ceremony, women came up to me and said: ‘Tali, kol hakavod! You mobilized us to bring Moshiach!’ And that’s the goal. We want to mobilize more people— because we want Moshiach. Our goal is to bring the Geulah, and it won’t happen if people just keep going about their lives as usual. I wake up every morning with the words, ‘Even if he may delay, with all that—I wait for him,’ and I hope it will come true very soon.

Tali Levi speaking at the Yom Hazikaron ceremony in Moreshet and her handwritten remarks

By Dovid Zaklikowski

THE FIREBRAND OF EASTERN PARKWAY

Rabbi Hecht during his interview with COL

Rabbi Shea Hecht is a man with many causes. His latest has taken him to Guatemala.

Photos: Dovid Zaklikowski and Lubavitch Archives

t is dizzying to sit in the presence of Rabbi Shea Hecht. He wears a red yarmulke on his head and has an iPhone peeking out of the front pocket of his blue button-down shirt, but it isn't the colors that distract. He jumps from topic to topic, eager to share his insights on all matters under the sun, despite spending most of his working time indoors.

Behind him is a wooden-paneled wall adorned with the celebrated history of the organization he currently runs, the National Committee for Furtherance of Jewish Education, or NCFJE. Plaques and photos laud the public service of his parents, Rabbi JJ and Chave Hecht, of blessed memory, which they led from the same office building on Eastern Parkway in Crown Heights.

Rabbi Shea Hecht’s takes on modern life can be jarring. He is

blunt and decisive. You cannot make out where the ideas come from. Some nuggets of his wisdom, he clarifies, come from personal interactions. Others are anecdotes he heard from others.

Rabbi Hecht does not mince words when advising those who turn to him for guidance in their marriage. He says that once, spouses would never fight in front of their children: “Today, we believe in honesty.” He recounts the story of a couple who openly used foul language about their spouse in front of their children.

“My kids can know that I am upset,” the wife told him.

“Are you normal?" Rabbi Hecht responded, shocked at the lack of common sense and terribly skewed view of marriage. “Do you know what you are doing to your children?"

Alcohol, WhatsApp, and the Internet are just a few things that he abhors. “I am missing absolutely nothing,” he says about not having any social media on his phone. “Maybe they are missing me.” To him, common sense means that while honesty has its place, “We have become too stupid.”

If there is any way to describe Rabbi Hecht, it is his spontaneity, despite the potential for perilous outcomes. Whether it was as a cult “deprogrammer,” which could have landed him years in jail for kidnapping, or his leap into a leadership position at NCFJE after his father suddenly passed away at the age of 66 in 1991.

“It is a little bit frightening,” he said at the time of his new role. “It humbles you. Now I am understanding some of the things my father was going through.

Rabbi Hecht shortly after joining the leadership of NCFJE

Rabbi JJ Hecht (left) leads the singing during a children's rally with the Rebbe

Rabbi Hecht at the unveiling of the renaming of Hadar Hatorah for his father, Rabbi JJ Hecht

Leadership is not only glory; there is a tremendous amount of responsibility.”

At the office, those who work with him tell stories of when he hears of people’s woes, his first reaction is to ask how NCFJE can help. “He is willing to give the shirt off his back,” one person told me, “there is little calculation of how he will be able to cover the project before he takes it on.”

Rabbi Hecht’s latest passion, saving the children of the Lev Tahor “cult,” has taken him all the way to the South American country of Guatemala.

CULT BUSTING

At the office, as his phone pings with call after call, Rabbi Hecht loses his composure when discussing Lev Tahor. It is

Presidents Day, the office is quiet, and the sudden jolt of energy in the room is jarring. His eyes are closed, his mouth opens wider, his head tilts to the left, and his hands fly in the air.

“I can almost forgive them,” Rabbi Hecht says, “for much of what they have done. But one thing I cannot forgive them for is the cruelty. The putting down of the children, the humiliation, I will never forgive them for. They destroyed them.”

Lev Tahor has been the talk—and subject of much debate—in the Jewish community for over a decade. Originally established in Israel, it moved to Brooklyn and then to Canada, where the authorities clamped down on its cultish tactics. The group has been on the move since, including Mexico, and its followers are today in Guatemala.

Several Lubavitch activists have been working with Guatemalan authorities to release the children in their clutches. Recently, Rabbi Hecht joined their efforts. But it was not until a few months ago, when Rabbi Hecht heard that the adults of the community were under arrest and the children in custody, that he spontaneously jumped into action.

Together with other activists from Williamsburg, Rabbi Hecht flew to Guatemala and spoke to the group members and the local authorities. Wanting to keep the children in a Jewish atmosphere, NCFJE took it upon itself to arrange for older bachurim to be at these group homes, arranging for them to provide kosher food and their other Jewish needs.

Tragically, the way the children had grown up with abusive adults around them, they learned to

behave as well. Rabbi Hecht tells of how they would gather together to daven and one of the students was appointed to lead the group. “As soon as he became ‘rebbi’ he started screaming at the others,” he says. “He slapped one, he shoved another one.”

He mourns that the children have never led a normal life. “It is already the second generation,” he says.

To explain the phenomenon of a person joining a cult, he explains that it does not mean that the person is not smart, or that their members lack intelligence.. “If you see a member of this cult,” he says, “you should not think he or she is stupid and dumb. You should have rachmanus on them that they were pulled in. They are a victim, and they are not a participant.”

He says it can happen to anyone, which begs the question why anyone would want to join a cult— as extreme as Lev Tahor, or even a program like the now defunct “Call of the Shofar,” a so-called “training program for personal growth” which many Rabbonim forbid from participating in, or what Hecht says is the latest cult in the frum world, a similar retreat called “Anochi.”

The question begs, as he put it, “What are we missing in our lives?” that many feel the need to join such programs?

MORE WEALTH, MORE ANXIETY

In a recent interview with the New York Times, Dr. Anna Lembke, a California psychiatrist at the Addiction Medicine Dual Diagnosis Clinic at Stanford University, explained that our

generation is struggling with a demand that we focus on ourselves. She calls it an endemic of narcissism, “where we have placed too much focus on 'figuring out who we are,’ and [we] take it too far,” she says. “We end up doing harm with all the time that we spend thinking about ourselves.”

“The constant looking at each of our actions creates anxiety, which ultimately creates this deep need to escape ourselves. … We also live in this world of abundance with constant access, and access alone is a risk factor,” she explains. The “running away” was once to alcohol and drugs, today it is also to our smartphones.

Hecht believes this anxiety manifests itself in our community in many ways. It can become a need to constantly portray the best of ourselves to the outside world. As the camp song goes, “Wherever we go, people want to know who we are, so we tell them…” The song is a reminder that we have to create a kiddush Hashem. This has been translated in the last decades to include that we are ‘normal,’ cultured people, who have beautiful homes and grand leisure experiences.

This, Rabbi Hecht says, has caused many to become trapped in a race to ‘keep up with the Cohens.’ “If you and I were friends, and you saw the financial disparity is so great, it creates a certain jealousy, a certain need,” he explains, “The desire to become a millionaire, the desire to become like the next door neighbor.”

Only a few decades ago, when the community as a whole was less well-to-do, there was less anxiety about becoming wealthy.

Today, when you can become a millionaire overnight (or viceversa), there is a constant stress over making that happen.

“Our children are growing up with anxiety,” he declares, mostly, he says, financial, but also in other ways, just from the fact that we have “devices.”

MENDELE AND CHANALE

Holding his smartphone, he says that the phone, while it should have created less anxiety, has just caused more. If your child is a few minutes late, you begin to panic. They are supposed to come home at 10, and you begin to call their phone at 10:05. However, they are in a wedding hall and they cannot hear it ringing. “By 10:12, you are ready to jump out the window with worry,” he says, “when it is normal to come fifteen minutes late.”

For some people, giving up your free will—if it is the choice or, in more extreme cases, your financial well-being to others—is comforting and less stressful. He gives an example of one person he met at Lev Tahor. The person was sitting and learning all day in Kollel when he needed to find a job for his growing family. Someone convinced him that at Lev Tahor, all his financial needs would be taken care of.

“I can go to a place where I would never have to work in my life,” he said, “I never have to make a decision, never have to purchase a pair of pants. I never have to worry about how I or my wife looks. I can dress her in a ‘sack cloth.’ I am protected.”

There is a certain level of safety in that, Rabbi Hecht says, and that person thinks, hearing about the

abuse, that he will be different - he will be able to protect his children.

He says that in the Lubavitch community, some may seek out cultish retreats because we feel an empty space: “We have a ruchniyus problem,” Hecht declares. Once, he says, “we went to the Rebbe for yechidus, or we went for dollars. We got a little bit of chizuk and moved forward. Today, we don’t have that.”

He believes that the best prevention is if we live healthy lives, with less anxiety and more ruchniyus, or what he calls, “The Rebbe’s formula.” It includes following the daily learning schedule of Chitas and Rambam (“Chayenu is great and makes it so easy”), regularly learning Chassidus, having a personal mashpia you regularly turn to with your questions, and joining farbrengens.

When he says farbrengen, he adds that it does not mean on Zoom or a large lecture, it is one where you sing nigunim and share words of chizuk. It is not a place where alcohol is pushed, and surely not to become drunk. “I understand the concept of alcohol,” he says, “but we are forgetting what the important part is.”

Ultimately, he says, if you do get pulled in, there is a way to get out and live a healthy life. The community, he says, should not profile any cult member as being some kind of outlier. They are “the same Mendele and Chanale, the same Yosef Yitzchok and Nechama Dina. These are normal people that got sucked in.” We should embrace them on their return. “They did nothing wrong.”

Dovid Zaklikowski is a biographer and archivist. He can be reached at DovidZak@HasidicArchives.com

Rabbi Hecht at a NCFJE dinner

ECHOES OF TEIMAN

By Sara Trappler Spielman

Artist

Miriam Rappaport

is Preserving Yemenite Jewish Heritage Through Her Art

Miriam Rappaport’s upbringing in Crown Heights was typical of any other girl in the community her age. She was raised in a Chabad home where Lubavitch minhagim were observed, attended the Bais Rivkah girls’ school, and identified proudly as a Lubavitcher chossid. But alongside that story lay another part of her identity - a descendant of a long line of proud Yemenite Jews from her mother's side.

“While my mother fully adopted the Chabad way of life, she was also proud of her Yemenite heritage,” said Rappaport, “and it showed in the food and the music we would have at home.”

Miriam’s mother, Tikvah Dean, had gone to Bais Rivkah in Kfar Chabad, and as a graduation gift, was sent to New York to see the Rebbe, who advised her to stay in Crown Heights for seminary. When she expressed her concern to the Rebbe that she didn’t speak English, the Rebbe told her not to worry, and indeed, Hebrew-speaking courses in Bais

Rivkah seminary began that year. As she learned more about her family, Miriam discovered that her Chabad and Yemenite heritage had merged years earlier. The Rebbe had initiated a Yeshiva in Lod for Yemenite and Bucharian boys whose backgrounds and customs were different from many other communities, necessitating a yeshiva of their own where they would feel comfortable. He ensured that they had kitniyot on Pesach and continued with their minhagim as they were used to. This yeshiva helped many of the immigrants stay frum despite the Israeli government’s secret policy to try to remove any religious connection from them upon arriving in Israel. Miriam’s great-uncle attended the yeshiva and remained a Chabad chassid and even went on to open the first Chabad House in Kfar Saba.

Jewish Life in Yemen

Jews had lived in Yemen for thousands of years, and their history is a colorful but difficult one. They lived alongside their Arab neighbors and worked as silversmiths and coppersmiths and produced masonry equipment.

While my mother fully adopted the Chabad way of life, she was also proud of her Yemenite heritage

The Yemenite jewelers crafted in a unique way called filigree, where fine strands of gold and silver were spun into intricate designs. Yemenite Jewish men did not have the luxury to learn all day, so they incorporated Torah and mitzvot into their work. Many wore their Talleisim throughout the day and reviewed pesukim of Tehillim and other parts of Torah by heart. The handwritten seforim they studied from were hard to come by, and Yemenite men became accustomed to reading perfectly from every direction.

Every Yemenite man knew how to read from the Torah with the correct pronunciation and tune and would read his section of the Torah himself when called for an aliyah. They would read each possuk from the Torah in Hebrew followed by an Aramaic translation which was usually chanted by a child who learned to read without any vowels.

From the age of three, children went to a Mori (melamed) where they learned every day from dawn to dusk. Both girls and boys were made to cover their heads from an early age to instill Yiras Shamayim. Such an education produced astounding results where students could quote any possuk from the Torah effortlessly along with its melody. Jewish women were required to have a thorough knowledge of the laws pertaining to kashrus and taharat hamishpachah (family purity). Some even mastered the laws of Shechita, acting as shochtim for their communities.

“The Yemenite Jews are originally from Israel; they are a capsule into ancient Jewry,” said Miriam. “With their tunics, turbans, payos, and dark skin, you get a picture of how our Avos and ancient Jews actually looked. Their payos (called simonim), names, clothing and

painting by Miriam Rappaport depicting her grandfather blowing the shofar

customs never changed, which is why they were described as being the most authentic Jews, because there was not a shred of doubt that they were Jewish - their Yemenite mesorah was so pure and untainted.”

Life in Yemen, however, was not easy. Jews were considered Dhimmi (second-class citizens protected by the state) and the authorities placed many restrictions on them. They were not allowed to wear shoes in public and they were forced to walk on the left side of the road. They could not build homes higher than Muslims’ and were not allowed to own horses, only mules and donkeys. If they happened upon a Muslim, they had to immediately dismount, so they rode sideways to be prepared. If they were ever

attacked by a Muslim, they could not defend themselves or they could face certain death. The only way out was to ask for mercy from a passing Muslim.

Escape from Yemen

Around the end of the 19th century, Yemenite Jews started making their way to Israel until 1929 when Imam Yehyeh forbade it. A turning point for the Jews came in 1947 when the British Mandate in Palestine ended and the UN created a partition plan that sparked murderous pogroms in the city of Aden. Famine, disease and political persecution created an even greater urge for Jews to leave Yemen.

In order to rescue the Jews of Yemen, the Israeli government launched Operation On Wings of Eagles, also

known as Operation Magic Carpet. From 1949 to 1950 some 300 flights left the Yemen desert to Israel in secrecy, and 49,000 Jews were transported to the newly formed state of Israel. This was also how Miriam’s family escaped to Israel. Her grandmother, Sara, had to be smuggled out of the country in a box and brought to Israel—an escape eerily similar to that of her namesake. The reason was her father’s immense wealth, which made her a target for ransom. With the rescue also came great tragedy. The departure from Aden was very haphazard and resulted in hundreds of deaths, and many fell ill. Upon arrival, many children were separated from their parents, supposedly over hygiene concerns.

A

There is a lot of shrouded mystery behind the many missing children. Some claim the children were sold to European families for adoption. Others were said to have been used for medical testing. Until today, there are no definitive answers. What remains are many parents with broken hearts.

Miriam remembers her grandfather telling her that his sister, who had just arrived in Israel, had brought her young son Shaul with her when she needed to be admitted to the hospital. Upon visiting her, he discovered that they had taken her young son.

“My grandfather, who was a shrewd and charismatic man, went to the main area of the hospital and demanded that they procure his nephew,” she tells. “The man stammered and tried to deter my grandfather, until he took the man by his collar and demanded he produce Shaul. He was quickly taken to a cellar where many children were being held, and he was reunited with his nephew. I asked him what had happened to the other children, but he just looked at me with sad eyes and raised his hands and said, ‘I don’t know, but there was nothing to be done.’ He could barely speak Hebrew and the authorities had no mercy. They took advantage of their naivety and simplicity.”

Summers in Kfar Saba

Miriam’s exposure to her Yemenite heritage came during the summers she would spend with her grandparents in Kfar Saba, Israel.

A painting by Miriam Rappaport showing women gathered by the taboon

“There was a small part of that city where I was related to practically everyone, since my grandfather, upon his arrival in Israel, helped his whole clan settle there, ensuring they each had land and deeds to their property.”

One summer when she was around ten years old, a group of Yemenites landed in Kfar Saba. Things had deteriorated because of the political situation, and an Israeli delegation had pushed to get the last few thousand Jews out of Yemen. “There I was, walking through the crowds of Jews that looked like they had been transported from ancient Jerusalem,” Miriam said. “I heard their language, watched them daven while they lay in a reclining position, lining the floors of the shul with mattresses. They sang songs and learned Torah while smoking the Madaa (hooka) and chewing on Ghat leaves.”

Although she had seen it many times before, this encounter made a deep impression on Miriam and began her thirst to learn more. “Whenever I had the chance, I asked my grandfather as many questions as I could. I would commit them to memory or write them down. By the time I was in seminary, I accrued a lot of knowledge of Yemenite history, and it forever engraved Yemenite heritage in me,” she says.

Becoming An Artist

It was many years later, during the Covid pandemic, that Miriam’s Yemenite soul came

alive when she discovered her dormant talent to paint art. “I had a bucket list of goals, one was to learn to paint with oils. I visited museums on Chol Hamoed trips, and my paternal grandparents were avid art collectors, but that was pretty much it. I never attended art classes.”

She quickly realized something more than painting was happening. “It unlocked a level in my Avodas Hashem that I did not know could exist. At the time, I also began learning sichos and maamarim on my own, eventually sharing what I learned with other ladies. It did not seem to be enough. It was only when I began to transmute it and let it inform my paintings that things began to shift. There was an exponential growth that occurred from one painting to the next that should have taken years. I knew it was from Hashem, and it was a gift.”

Miriam looked around the Jewish art world, but didn’t see Yemenites being depicted in art.

“I was so proud of my heritage and my grandfather, who embodied Torah and mitzvot with his whole heart and soul,” Miriam said. “My painting of him blowing the shofar really depicts that. He isn’t in a shul wrapped in a tallis, but outside. He isn’t pointing the shofar upward, it's inward near his heart. He is fully engaged in the mitzvah, drawing down the transcendent light into this world. He taught me what it means to embody Torah and Mitzvot in this world.”

She had her first solo show last

A display of the clothing a Yemenite bride would wear on her wedding day.

January at The Juneberry Tree Art Gallery in Crown Heights. Titled “A Taste of Teiman,” the art exhibition celebrated the rich heritage of Yemen's Teimani Jewry and introduced Miriam’s new collection of paintings, alongside treasured family heirlooms, Yemeni music, and traditional foods for tasting, at its opening reception.

After her grandparents passed, Miriam felt a deep desire to create a capsule of a world she felt was quickly fading. She was bent on capturing the warmth, authenticity, and piety that she observed growing up.

“The Jews of Yemen were tradesmen; they brought G-dliness into their mundane tasks, and I felt inspired to do the same. Oil painting is as materialistic as it gets, you’re using mud mixed with oil to cover a linen fabric. I want to take the mud, oil and plant life and elevate it by depicting men and women devoted to Torah and Mitzvot. And I hope to inspire other Jews by bridging the cultural gap by educating them on this fascinating period of Jewish history,” she says.

Visit mmcrgallery.com for more artwork.

Kos Shel Bracha After Shavuos (5747)

At the conclusion of Yom Tov, the Rebbe would hold a farbrengen in 770. After nightfall, he would recite Havdallah and begin distributing Kos Shel Bracha, as thousands would line up to receive a drop of wine from the Rebbe’s cup.

JEM/The Living Archive presents a photo gallery from Kos Shel Bracha following the Yom Tov of Shavuos 1987

The Rebbe recites Havdallah

The Rebbe shares a few words with Rabbi Moshe Yitzchok Hecht, Shliach to New Haven, Connecticut

The Rebbe motions to whistle, a common gesture during the spirited singing at Farbrengens and Kos Shel Bracha

Throughout the distribution, the Rebbe would encourage the singing of joyous niggunim

After the distribution, the Rebbe exits the shul.

Beyond the Loom

A Lubavitch Entrepreneur’s Quest to Craft the Perfect Kapota

After a disappointing experience, Meyer Ebert set out to discover: what makes a quality kapota? A year later, he is back with the surprising answer, and a high-tech solution to a common kapota shopping problem.

It was the first eve of Pesach, and Meyer Ebert was preparing to go to shul in Crown Heights, where he was spending yom tov with family. As he took his kapota from its hanger, he noticed something alarming: the brand new kapota was already beginning to fray. Meyer felt a stab of disappointment and frustration. How many times had he been told that a silk kapota is expensive, but it’s an investment?

‘Lousy investment,’ Meyer thought to himself. ‘There must be a better way.’ He decided then that his next kapota would not be purchased; it would be made through his own efforts with the highest quality fabric he could find.

As soon as yom tov ended, Meyer began researching and reaching out to manufacturers, determined to learn all there was to know about silk and how to make a long lasting garment. What he learned surprised him.

“We think of silk as a fragile material, but it’s actually very durable,” Meyer said. “Most silk garments today are fragile because they are made out of bits of the material. High quality silk is made using entire threads woven by silkworms, which can stretch a mile long and are surprisingly strong.

“It’s an expensive process to unwrap that thread in order to use it, but the result is an incredibly light, breathable and sturdy fabric. As far as I know, no one ever made kapotas using this kind of silk before.”

It took several months of research for Meyer to find the right fabric for his kapota: breathable, long-lasting, not too shiny - it had to be exact! He soon learned there was another benefit to working directly with a silk manufacturer: a dramatically lower price tag. He could source the highest quality fabric without breaking the bank.

Now came another hurdle: finding the right factory for production. “I reached out to dozens of companies and checked carefully into each one,” Meyer said. “After putting in so much work to create

the perfect kapota, I had decided that I wanted to start a business that would allow others to benefit from my work. Many manufacturers want you to order 100 units at a time; I wanted my kapotas to be custom made to fit each client.”

Over the summer, Meyer had several factories produce samples which he then tested in various ways. One of his experiments involved a lint shaver, and the results were astounding. “I turned it on and began running it over the kapota, applying more and more pressure, but nothing was happening!” Meyer said. “It took many minutes of vigorous scrubbing before the fabric finally showed its first sign of wear.”

By a month before Rosh Hashanah, Meyer was ready to take orders. He began advertising locally to the Chicago community, selling at cost price with the goal of building up his reputation. It worked! Soon, word got out that with Malchus Clothiers, one could get a beautiful and breathable kapota made from quality silk - a true luxury item, but at an affordable price.

“My kapota looks beautiful; it came out exactly as I wanted it to!” said Rabbi Yitzchok Wolf, dean of Cheder Lubavitch of Chicago. “Meyer does a great job, and he’s a pleasure to deal with.”

That Tishrei, members of Chicago anash showed up to shul dressed in their beautifully crafted custom kapotas, each with their names elegantly embroidered inside. Malchus Clothiers - aptly named to reflect the brand’s dedication to quality, elegance and luxury - was now officially off the ground.

“I encourage people to buy silk kapotas, because that’s what the Rebbe encouraged,” Meyer said. “Many people are afraid of silk because of their past experiences with uncomfortable, fragile kapotas. I really push people to give it another chance with Malchus; I know if they do, they’ll be amazed.”

Still, some are determined to stick with wool, and Meyer takes his role of serving customers seriously. After conducting further research, he chose Australian Merino wool - the best in the industryand added high end wool kapotas to the Malchus Clothiers collection.

After a few months of selling locally,

Meyer wanted to expand and offer this product to shluchim and anash around the world. He hoped to make it possible for people to buy remotely, to get a wellfitted kapota without having to travel and make appointments. He once again began doing research, and came across an app that allows users to take accurate measurements using their phone. He learned that due to the miracles of technology, the measurements taken via the app were even more accurate then those taken in person. There was one problem: the visuals used to teach users how to take pictures were not exactly tznius.

“Buying a kapota should be a holy and wholesome experience,” Meyer said. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a choson buying for the first time or a seasoned kapota wearer marrying off a grandchild. When we put on a kapota, we are representing our values as Chabad chassidim, and the process needs to reflect that.”

Meyer began working with the company to recreate the app using pictures that he approved. “I had to invest a lot of money to create my own platform. It’s worth every penny not to compromise on this.”

When asked about his vision for the future of Malchus Clothiers, Meyer knows exactly what his goals are. “One of my manufacturers also produces items for Zegna,” Meyer said. “Recently, he remarked that the lengths I go to to secure the highest quality fabrics surpass those of the iconic luxury brand. This was a clarifying moment for me; I’m not here to check boxes. The kapotas I create are the gold standard, and I won’t settle for anything less.

“With time, customers will learn that whether they’re buying silk or wool, when they see a Malchus Clothiers tag they can be confident they are getting a beautiful, high quality product that will last,” Meyer said.

To order a Malchus Kapota, visit MyKapota.com.

You can also text, call, or WhatsApp 312-394-0879.

A Fit for Royalty: The Technology Behind the Malchus Kapota Experience

As Meyer Ebert’s Malchus Clothiers gained popularity, he realized that one of the biggest challenges for customers ordering remotely was achieving the perfect fit without in-person measurements. Meyer knew he needed a solution that could bring the custom fitting experience directly to his customers.

The answer came in the form of a sophisticated measuring app, which uses your smartphone or tablet to create a full 360° body scan.

In just minutes, the app captures over 70 precise measurements—effortlessly and independently. Simply follow the easy on-screen prompts, place your device on a flat surface, and let the technology take care of the rest.

Committed to providing a seamless and user-friendly experience, Meyer worked closely with the developers to refine the app’s design. The result is an intuitive platform that allows customers to confidently order their perfectly tailored kapota from anywhere in the world.

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Chinuch atters

Presented by Bayla Rutman and the Menachem Education Foundation (MEF)

What inspired you to go into education?

Growing up on shlichus, I wanted to continue on that same path. As I got older, it became clear to me that chinuch is my shlichus. If you look at how the Rebbe talks about the importance and greatness of chinuch, it's clear that this is a fundamental shlichus. It may not be as glamorous or exciting as going out to a faraway place, but that doesn't diminish its importance. Maybe that itself shows how valuable and fundamental the shlichus of chinuch is.

How do you support students' academic excellence and emotional well-being?

The two really go hand in hand. Today, many people complain about a lack of self-confidence or self-esteem and try in all sorts of ways to remedy that. But the basic remedy for low confidence is feeling successful—and here we can see how academic success and emotional well-being go hand in hand.

Feeling successful comes in

many different ways. For a young talmid, it might be knowing how to read fluently; for an older boy, it could be feeling comfortable with a piece of Gemara. I've seen this so many times—when a boy gets extra support in academics, many other problems begin to resolve.

Of course, if there's a more intense case of emotional dysregulation, professionals need to be involved and make a personalized plan. But even then, learning and academic growth must be part of that plan. The bottom line is that success in one area will bring about success in other areas.

How do you create an environment where both students and teachers feel seen, supported, and motivated?

When Hashem told Moshe to appoint Yehoshua as his successor, He described him as an ish asher ruach bo—a man who has spirit in him. Rashi explains that he was able to deal with each individual person's character. That's a powerful lesson in

leadership. Yehoshua did this for all of Klal Yisroel, but we can learn from it on a smaller scale. Whether you're a parent, a teacher, or an organization leader, it's important to know the people you work with and connect to them personally. Once that relationship is there, it changes the whole environment. People feel like they belong, like they matter, and that they're an important part of the whole. How does the school work together with parents to ensure student success?

The Hayom Yom of 8 Adar I tells us that when the Alter Rebbe hired a melamed for his son, he didn't just send the child to him— he created a partnership. That's how it has to work today as well.

So I'd rephrase the question: what can both parents and the school do together to ensure success? A partnership means everyone works together.

We live in a time when communication is so easy— messages, emails, phone calls. But I've seen it many times: a

Meet the Chinuch Shliach

RABBI YOSSI EVERS

– Principal of Grades 3–5 at Oholei Torah in Crown Heights

child is struggling, the teacher doesn't want to give bad news, the parent doesn't want to bother the teacher, and the problem gets worse because no one communicates. If there's an issue, please pick up the phone. It can solve and de-escalate so much. In my experience, parents want what's best for their child, and teachers want what's best for their students. When both come together—and it doesn't matter who reaches out first—that's when real progress happens.

What is a challenge you deal with?

Oholei Torah is, Baruch Hashem, a very large school. Some people think it's a factory where kids get lost. But we do everything in our power to know and care for every child. As a principal, it's important for me to personally understand each child—where they're holding academically, socially, in middos and emotions. We are in this field because we care, and we make it a point to care for every individual child.

Every child is a whole world. What is something you wish every parent would know or do?

First, going back to the earlier question—communication is so important. But it must be respectful and pleasant in order to have a positive effect. Keep conversations focused and calm—no blaming or pointing fingers. Teachers have told me that parents sometimes call them after 10 PM—please don't do that. Others say parents keep them on the phone for over an hour. Most things can be discussed in 15–20 minutes, so please be mindful.

Also, not everything is an emergency. If it works better to talk the next day, that can be arranged. Just keep it respectful and goal-oriented, and the lines of communication will stay open.

The second is to learn with your child. Review what they're learning in school—at least once a week, but preferably more often. Make it a pleasant experience. For example, after you review what they learned, you play a game or do something special that's

reserved just for after learning. It shows the child their importance, the value of learning, and parental care about their schooling. It keeps you informed of your child's success, makes Torah learning enjoyable, and maintains open communication. Third is the importance of family dinner. Sit together as a family, if not every night, then at least a few times a week. It takes planning and consistency, but the reward is huge. It's a time when you hear things about your child's day that you wouldn't hear otherwise, and it shows them the strength and value of the family unit.

There are three partners in every child: the father, the mother, and Hashem. Teachers are cherished partners in the journey of chinuch, but the heart of a child’s growth begins at home. Lean on Hashem when it’s hard, and thank Hashem when it’s going well, Hashem is with you every step of the way.

CHINUCH FROM ASERES HADIBROS

What was the first chinuch experience that we faced as a nation? Har Sinai is actually compared to a cheder, and our first teacher was Moshe. For the most perfect methods in chinuch, we don’t need to look further than our Aseres Hadibros, the foundation of the entire Torah.

1. Anochi Hashem: The first lesson we need to teach children is that everything is Hashem, truly ‘ein od milvado.’ Teaching emunah is our primary goal. From the word elokecha, which is in the singular, we see that the way to teach this and every lesson is to talk to each child as an individual and teach him at his own pace.

2. Lo yiheye lecha: We have to be very careful not to allow outside influences to permeate our mesorah, even if it’s simply as a compromise. We can’t appease others by watering down our chinuch. Emes and “compromise” are opposites. Once it is no longer pure truth, it is no longer truth. From here, we see how careful we must be with every aspect of chinuch.

Adapted from “The Aseres Hadibros of Chinuch” by Leah Levine. Read the full article at mymef.org/blog

Teaching Tip

by Mushkie Lipsker @evergrowingeducator

“WAIT, AI CAN DO THAT?"

“AI for sure made that,” my 5-year-old told me after seeing the music video of the song, YUM YUM.

ChatGPT, AI, DeepSeek, Meta AI, and Gemini are words that did not exist three years ago, but they have now become a part of our everyday vocabulary. While teachers may not want ChatGPT writing essays from scratch, AI can certainly assist in other areas of the classroom.

1. Give me 3 fun open-ended questions that connect to this week’s Parsha, one each for ages 5, 10, and adult. This will be used to enhance the dinner table.

2. Here’s my kid’s morning routine. Turn this into a fun illustrated checklist they can use on their own.

3. Here’s a list of everything I need to do this week. Turn it into a color-coded to-do list with priorities, due dates, and 15-minute tasks.

4. Here is a long conversation thread from my class WhatsApp chat (or email thread) with lots of messages and voice notes. Please summarize the key points and provide clear action steps based on the conversation.

5. Take this picture of my cluttered cabinet and show me a visual to help me organize it.

Before After

Tips for organizing these materials:

6. Create a family-friendly menu for Friday night that ties in with the Parsha, using puns or symbolic foods. Only simple recipes. It should include fish, salads, mains, sides, and dessert options.

7. Turn this voice note transcription into a polished blurb for a newsletter/ memo/class update.

8. I have a student who is allergic to eggs and I'm out of applesauce substitute. Give me an easy-to-make, no-mixer, one-bowl brownie recipe that I can use to make with my class. Prep should take no more than ten minutes.

9. Here’s a picture of what’s in my fridge. What’s a chicken based supper I can make in under 20 minutes that my kids will eat?

10. Before sending this to be published as part of the COLlive Magazine, give a list of edit suggestions or mistakes. (Yes, I really used this!)

For even more prompts and other educational perspectives, visit evergrowingeducator.com/blog

CHATGPT response:

We are friends with a Jewish family considering a Chabad school for their children. How can we explain its advantages?

Answer by Shlucha Goldie Plotkin, who led the Torah Tots Preschool in Markham, Ontario, for 39 years and co-directs Tamim Academy in York Region

When parents ask why they should choose a Chabad school— whether they’re fully observant, traditional, or just beginning their Jewish journey—the answer may vary depending on the family. But there are two core principles that consistently guide our approach:

1. We Instill Joy and Love for Judaism

Our goal is for children to love being Jewish. In today’s world, Judaism is often described as stressful, expensive, or restrictive. At a Chabad school, we turn that narrative on its head. Every mitzvah is presented with joy and meaning. Shabbos isn’t about restrictions—it’s about the gift of unplugged family time, laughter, connection, and presence. Our students see Judaism not as a burden, but as a privilege. The Rebbe once told a parent, concerned that his children were drifting away from Yiddishkeit: If all they hear is how hard it is to be Jewish, why would they want to stay? That’s why we lead with joy, positivity, and pride in living as a Jew.

2. We Offer Authentic, Unapologetic Judaism

We don’t water things down. We teach Torah and mitzvos in their full depth and meaning. Children are perceptive—they know when something is real. At a Chabad school, teachers don’t just talk about Judaism—they live it. That authenticity is what inspires students and makes a lasting impact.

Families from every background—secular, traditional, and Chassidish—choose Chabad schools. Why? Because we stay true to who we are. Our curriculum, values, environment, and culture reflect authentic Chabad ideals and the Rebbe’s vision. Even parents who don’t live this lifestyle at home appreciate the warmth, clarity, and inspiration it brings their children.

It’s no surprise that Chabad schools around the world are growing rapidly. Parents are drawn to their high standards, meaningful education, and the sense of purpose they give to children.

A Chabad school offers more than just academics—it gives your child a joyful, meaningful, and real Yiddishkeit that will stay with them for life.

• Registration is now open for the Kinus Mechanchos Chabad, taking place 19-20 Tammuz - July 15-16 at the Hilton Stamford Hotel in Connecticut.

• Upcoming parent webinar: Sending Confident & Resilient Children to Camp with Rabbi Zalmy Kudan, June 15 ~ ןויס ט"י — sign up at mymef. org/parentwebinar.

• Opportunity for Post-Sem Girls: Step into a year of growth, impact, and inspiration — Teach for Lubavitch empowers post-seminary young women to teach, learn, and lead in Chassidishe schools across the United States.

Chinuch Shlichus

New teaching opportunities are available: Alef Preschool Fair Lawn – Administrative (Head of School) – Fair Lawn, NJ

Cheder Lubavitch of Dallas – Teaching –Dallas, TX

Cheder Menachem of Long Island –Teaching & Administrative – Valley Stream, NY

Gan Israel Preschool of Fairfax – Administrative (Preschool Director) –Fairfax, VA

Ganeinu Academy – Teaching (5th Grade Rebbi) – Queens, NY

Lubavitch Educational Center – Teaching – Miami, FL

Lubavitcher Cheder in the Tri-State Area – Administrative (Elementary Principal) – NY

New Preschool of Brooklyn – Administrative (Director) – Brooklyn, NY

Private Family in Honolulu – Teaching – Honolulu, HI

Providence Hebrew Day School –Teaching – Providence, RI

Rohr Bais Chaya Academy – Teaching –Tamarac, FL

Shmuel Zahavy Cheder Chabad School – Administrative (Principal) – Toronto, ON

Tzohar Seminary – Administrative (Director of the Arts) – Pittsburgh, PA

Yeshiva Schools of Pittsburgh – Administrative (High School Principal), Teaching – Pittsburgh, PA

Yeshivas Ufaratzta – Teaching – Cooper City, FL

To find out more about these opportunities or to add a job to the MEF job board, visit mymef.org/shlichus

18 • First and last Carton • Butter, Cheddar, Cheese (2 times), Cottage, Cow, Cream (4 times), Farm, Ice, Milk, Mozzarella, Ricotta, Yogurt

HISTORY’S HEROES

CRAFT. PAINT. BAKE. EXPERIMENT.

2. THE NUGGET

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CONTEST

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Finish the weekly project, snap a pic, and email us at info@jcm.museum for a chance to win 2 tickets to the Jewish Children’s Museum. Let’s get creating! DOVID 2852-2924 1,000 2,000 3,000 4,000 5,000

Congratulations to the Richler family for winning the contest!

As a young lad, Dovid was the shepherd for his father’s flock. He thought of a clever method to ensure all the animals could eat. He would hold back the large, strong sheep, allowing first the small ones to graze on the soft tips of the grass, followed by the old, weak ones to graze on the middle part of the grass. Lastly, the strong ones would be left to graze on the grass’s toughest part. Hashem saw Dovid’s care and concern, and said: “One who knows how to herd the flock, each according to its ability, will come and herd My people.”

4. FUN FACT

Dovid Hamelech established the third Bracha of Birchas Hamazon, the Bracha of “Boneh Yerushalaim.” He instituted the part

“…on Israel Your people and on Jerusalem Your city…” as he conquered the city. Later, his son Shlomo added

“…on the great and Holy Temple…” as he was the one who built the Bais Hamikdash.

1. LIFE STORY SNIPPET

Dovid was born in Bais Lechem, the youngest of 7 sons, and became a hero when he courageously took down the giant Golias with just a slingshot and a few stones. After Shaul Hamelech, he became the next king, but at first ruled solely over his tribe, Yehuda. After 7½ years, he was coronated as the unanimous king of all of Bnei Yisrael and ruled for an additional 33 years, during which time he successfully fought many battles. He yearned to build the Bais Hamikdash and prepared for its construction, but it was not until his son Shlomo’s reign that it was built. Throughout his life, he dealt with many challenges, but in every situation, he turned to Hashem through the songs of Tehillim, most of which he composed.

3. BRINGING IT DOWN

We can show the same care and concern as Dovid Hamelech, by noticing what people around us may need and finding creative ways to help.

5. QUESTION TO CONSIDER

Is there someone in your community who has a challenge and needs some assistance? What is a thoughtful way you can step in to help?

Roll your clay into a smooth ball. This will be your sheep’s body!

Cut off both ends of all your Q-tips, leaving about ¼ inch of the stem in place. Set aside 4 Q-tips that you won’t cut yet.

Take 2 whole Q-tips and cut them in half. Stick the 4 pieces into the bottom of the clay to make your sheep’s legs. -Clay -100 Q-tips -White Foam Sheet -Pen

Trace and cut a teardrop shape out of your foam sheet, about 2" across.

Put some glue on the back of the face and press it gently onto the front of the clay body.

Your adorable sheep is ready! Let the glue dry and enjoy your fluffy friend!

Stick the short Q-tip pieces into the top half of the clay ball to look like fluffy wool. Keep going until the top half is covered!

Glue on googly eyes in the center of the face. Cut both ends off another Q-tip and glue them on the sides for ears. Pull some fluff off a Q-tip and glue it to the top of the head for extra cuteness!

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By Asharon Baltazar

Healing Soldiers in Guam

A story of the Rebbe’s direction to the U.S. Navy

It was the dead of night at a Boston medical center. The halls were hushed, the patients asleep. But as the on-call physician made his rounds, he noticed something odd: a bright light spilling onto the floor from one of the rooms.

Inside, a woman sat upright in bed, not surrounded by flowers or IV stands, but by binders, a typewriter, a rotary phone, and a small mountain of paperwork. It looked less like a patient’s room and more like a makeshift office.

The doctor paused at the doorway, startled. “I’m sorry to intrude,” he said gently. “But, may I ask what exactly is going on here?”

The woman looked up, unbothered. “My name is Chana Lillian Cohen,” she replied. “I work in public relations for the local Lubavitch yeshiva. I was hospitalized in the middle of our preparations for a major fundraiser. So I had no choice but to bring the office here.”

Hearing the word Lubavitch, something flickered in the doctor’s mind. He stepped inside. A moment passed. Then he said, almost to himself, “You know… if you’re with Lubavitch, I think I owe you a story. Something that happened to me with the Rebbe.”

And he began.

I’m Jewish, but I didn’t grow up with religion. I spent years as a medical officer in the U.S. Navy, most of it stationed out in the Pacific.

One day, I got a call from Naval Command on Guam. Soldiers were getting sick—wave after wave of stomach infections. No one could figure out the cause. The officer on the line said, “We’ve got two options: either we find the source fast, or we shut down the operation and send everyone home. Would you be willing to take the assignment?”

I said yes. It felt like a challenge—a

professional one. They were calling me because no one else had cracked it.

Before heading out, I stopped in New York to visit my mother. She ran a successful business and used to donate a good chunk of her profits to charity. One of the people she sent money to regularly was the Lubavitcher Rebbe. When I told her I’d be passing through Brooklyn, she handed me an envelope. “Take this to the Rebbe,” she said.

I think she wanted more than just a delivery. She wanted me to meet the man himself.

She made the appointment herself— three in the morning.

I stepped into the Rebbe’s modest study. He greeted me warmly, shook my hand, and I placed the envelope from my mother on his desk. He looked at me— looked into me—and asked about my trip.

I told him about the outbreak in

Guam, how the Navy hoped I’d trace it to its source.

The Rebbe’s expression grew serious. He pressed a button under his desk, and moments later, his secretary entered. The Rebbe asked him to bring a ruler, a sheet of graph paper, and a map of the Guam region. Within minutes, they all lay out in front of him.

Then, from a shelf packed with books, the Rebbe retrieved a manual published by the U.S. Naval Academy—a standard reference for Navy physicians. He flipped through it, stopped at the section detailing sunrise and sunset times, as well as the daily tide schedules for Guam.

He studied the materials in silence for a moment. Then he looked up, fixing me with a penetrating gaze.

“I’ll tell you what you can do about the illness,” the Rebbe

said quietly. “But you don’t need to disclose your source.”

Using the ruler and map, the Rebbe began marking coordinates on the graph paper—calculating latitudes and longitudes, noting details in precise strokes. He circled a spot on the map and slid the paper across to me.

“When you get to Guam,” he said, “go here. It’s near the shoreline. You’ll need to be there just before dawn, when the tide is at its lowest. Take sand samples and test them in a laboratory. That may lead you to the cause.”

Days later, on the island, the search for the source of the illnesses was going nowhere. Extensive testing yielded nothing. With no breakthrough in sight, most of the soldiers were shipped home.

Then, one night, I remembered the folded piece of paper still in my coat pocket. “Why not?” I thought.

I made my way to the circled point on the coast, just before dawn, and waited as the tide receded. When the waters reached their lowest point, I collected sand samples, as instructed.

Back at the lab, things changed.

The tests revealed a toxin secreted by shellfish left exposed at low tide, which had been leaching into the soldiers’ food supply. And just like that, we had found our culprit.

With the mystery solved, the military commended me with a formal certificate of recognition. But the real revelation wasn’t scientific.

“It changed me,” the doctor told Chana quietly. “That encounter. That advice. I became a believer.”

The hallway fell silent again.

(Translated from Sichat Hashavua #1110)

By Mordechai Schmutter

Get a Job, Kid!

Summer jobs for teenagers that are slightly better than doing nothing

Are you the parent of a teenager who has no real plans for the summer, and you want him or her to get out of the house and learn some life lessons, like how hard it is to get a decent job, or that any job they could even get requires basically none of the skills that they’re learning in school?

Well, that’s going to be the takeaway. Unless you send them to a school that teaches them how to mow lawns and keep a hundred kids occupied on a bus.

But there’s nothing like a summer job to teach kids the value of a dollar. The value of a dollar is nothing. There, I did it. But if they’re home all day, they’re mostly going to earn money by asking you for it repeatedly, and you might give it to them, just to get them to be quiet and let you earn money so you can squander it away, getting your kids to stop bothering you for money. And so on. We’re here to help you break this cycle.

See, you want them to get a job,

but seeing as jobs aren’t coming out of the woodwork to look for them, you’re faced with a dilemma: If you don’t help them come up with something, they probably won’t do it, and if you do help them, they’re never going to learn not to rely on you. You want something you can passiveaggressively pass on to them to read so they get the hint and get a job. And nothing says, “something you can passive-aggressively pass on to people and hope they get the hint,” like one of my articles.

Hey, kids! Are you a teenager looking to get out of your parents’ house during the day because they keep annoying you with questions like, “When are you gonna get a summer job?” Why not get a summer job? That’ll show them! Then who are they gonna annoy, huh? Let them annoy each other! The difficult thing about getting a summer job as a teenager is that most industries don’t just want someone for the summer, as they operate all year round. The only thing that doesn’t run all year is

school. Unfortunately, getting a job in a school isn’t a good idea either, because the weeks you’re looking for a job are also the weeks there’s no school. What are the odds?

Here are some ideas:

Camp Counseling – This is a great job if you enjoy playing the least fun part of each sport with a bunch of short people who are considerably worse than you, and taking kids to the nurse. And if you work in a sleepaway camp, you can spend your nights trying to convince a bunch of kids to shower, and no matter how much progress you make, the bunkhouse will stink.

Unfortunately, this is a very competitive industry. Everyone wants to do it. See, the problem is that there are approximately as many teenagers as kids. So your next option is

Mowing Lawns – This is an easier job to get, because you don’t have to worry about how many job openings there are versus

how many teenagers are walking around with lawnmowers. You can just keep knocking on doors all day, paying more attention to who you think is home than who actually has long grass: “We just mowed ours an hour ago.”

Lifeguarding – This is a great job if your ideal summer is yelling at kids at a pool. You may get to save a life here and there, but in my experience, being around pools, it’s mostly about yelling at people to not put you in a position where you have to save their life, which is your job. For no other job is it acceptable to do this. As a teacher, I can’t walk in and yell, “Don’t make me have to teach you!”

Bike Riding Instructor – Do you like watching screaming little kids fall from a distance?

You’d be watching from a distance. The kids wouldn’t be falling from a distance.

Parents all over the world go through the agony of teaching their kids to ride bikes, which is an important life skill that almost

never comes up as an adult. Any parent would love for you to take this burden – and their kids’ future distrust – off their hands. The whole thing seems like borderline child abuse. Imagine if this is how you taught a kid to drive – you ran alongside the car, then let go and yelled, “Lean the other way!” and watched them hit a mailbox.

Babysitting – This is a great job, because more kids are home, and it prepares you for being a parent, except for the more annoying parts of being a parent, like convincing the kids to go out and get jobs. And there are lots of families for whom hiring a boy babysitter would be better than hiring a girl! But unfortunately, we’re still living in an age where many people consider babysitting a girls’ job. Only girls grow up to be parents.

Housesitting – Find neighbors who are going away, and ask if they need you to do all the things they can’t do because they’re not home, such as water their

plants, take in their mail, feed their fish, look out their window and keep tabs on their neighbors, move their car back and forth for alternate side, and maybe forward them all the stuff they forgot to pack. This is a lot easier than babysitting, because you don’t have to keep track of every single little kid, and worse comes to worse, you can always run out at the last minute and find a new fish that looks reasonably like the old fish.

Mother’s Helper – Apparently, this is a thing now too. I always thought “mother’s helper” was a fancy word for a father, like it’s a good thing to put on a resume if you haven’t had a job for a while.

“What have you been doing the last few years?”

“It’s right there. Mother’s helper.” And how come there are no father’s helpers?

Oh, that’s right. We keep sending them out.

Head-turning is something. Heart-stirring is everything.

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KosherSpread

By Sruly Meyer

A Blitz of Blintzes!

4 delicious varieties of home-made blintzes and two pasta options for your Shavuos feast.

Instructions:

(Crepes)

Ingredients:

• 1 cup all-purpose flour

• 1 1/2 cups milk

• 2 large eggs

• 2 tbsp melted butter or oil

• 1 tbsp sugar

• 1/4 tsp salt

• 1 tsp vanilla extract (optional)

Blueberry Blintzes Blintzes

Ingredients:

• Blintz Crepes (see recipe above)

• Blueberry Filling (about 2 cups fresh blueberries cooked with 1/4 cup sugar and juice of 1/2 lemon)

• Sweetened Cream Cheese or Mascarpone (about 1/2 cup)

1. Make the Batter: Whisk together flour, eggs, milk, melted butter, sugar, salt, and vanilla until smooth. Add more milk if the batter is too thick

2. Rest the Batter: Let the batter sit for 30 minutes at room temperature.

3. Cook the Crepes: Heat a non-stick skillet over medium, greasing lightly. Pour 1/4 cup of batter, tilting the pan to spread evenly. Cook for 1-2 minutes until the edges lift, then flip and cook for another 30 seconds. Repeat with the remaining batter.

4. Let the crepes cool before filling.

Instructions:

1. Spread sweetened cream cheese or mascarpone on the blintz crepes.

2. Add a layer of blueberry filling (about 1-2 tbsp per crepe).

3. Fold and cook until lightly browned (about 2-3 minutes per side).

4. Serve with a dusting of powdered sugar. Enjoy your delicious blueberry blinzes!

Sruly Meyer runs COLlive Magazine’s food and music sections and owns a marketing agency in Hollywood, Florida. He is a home cook, recipe developer, and an online influencer discussing food, travel, and Jewish parenthood. @srulycooks

Classic Cheese Blintzes

Ingredients:

• Blintz Crepes (from above)

• Cheese Filling (about 2 cups of ricotta cheese, farmer cheese, or cream cheese mixed with 1/4 cup sugar and 1 tsp vanilla extract)

• Sour Cream or Yogurt for serving (about 1/2 cup)

Instructions:

1. Fill the blintz crepes with the cheese filling.

2. Fold them into rectangles or triangles.

3. Fry them until golden on both sides (about 2-3 minutes per side).

4. Serve with sour cream or yogurt on top.

Apple Cinnamon Blintzes

Ingredients:

• Blintz Crepes (from above)

• Apple Filling

(about 2 cups sautéed apples with 1 tsp cinnamon and 1/4 cup brown sugar)

• Cottage Cheese or Sweetened Ricotta Filling

(about 1 cup ricotta cheese mixed with 1 tbsp sugar and a pinch of cinnamon)

Instructions:

1. Mix cottage cheese or sweetened ricotta with a pinch of cinnamon.

2. Spoon apple filling (about 2 tbsp per crepe) onto blintz crepes.

3. Roll and cook until warmed through (about 2-3 minutes per side).

4. Serve with a sprinkle of cinnamon and a dollop of sour cream.

Strawberry Cheesecake Blintzes

Ingredients:

• Blintz Crepes (from above)

• Strawberry Filling (about 2 cups sliced strawberries cooked with 1/4 cup sugar and zest of 1 lemon)

• Cream Cheese Filling (about 1 cup cream cheese, sweetened with 1/4 cup powdered sugar and 1 tsp vanilla extract)

Instructions:

1. Spread cream cheese filling on blintz crepes

2. Add a layer of cooked strawberry filling (about 2 tbsp per crepe).

3. Fold and cook until heated through (about 2 minutes).

4. Serve with whipped cream or a drizzle of strawberry sauce.

Spinach and Cheese Stuffed Manicotti

Ingredients:

• 12 manicotti shells

• 1 package (10 oz) frozen spinach, thawed and drained

• 1 1/2 cups ricotta cheese

• 1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese

• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese

• 1 egg

• 1 jar marinara sauce (about 24 oz)

• 1 tbsp dried oregano

• Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:

1. Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C).

2. Cook the manicotti shells according to package directions, then drain and cool.

3. In a bowl, mix the spinach, ricotta, mozzarella, Parmesan, egg, oregano, salt, and pepper.

4. Stuff each manicotti shell with the cheese mixture (about 2 tbsp per shell) and place in a baking dish.

5. Cover with marinara sauce, bake for 2530 minutes, until bubbly and golden.

Creamy Mushroom and Spinach Fettuccine

Ingredients:

• 12 oz fettuccine pasta

• 2 tbsp olive oil

• 1 small onion, chopped

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 8 oz mushrooms, sliced

• 2 cups fresh spinach, chopped

• 1 cup heavy cream

• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese

• Salt and pepper to taste

• Fresh parsley, chopped (optional)

Instructions:

1. Cook the fettuccine according to package directions. Drain and set aside.

2. In a large pan, heat olive oil over medium heat. Sauté the onion and garlic until soft and fragrant (about 3 minutes).

3. Add the mushrooms and cook until tender and browned, about 5 minutes.

4. Stir in the spinach and cook until wilted (about 2 minutes).

5. Pour in the heavy cream, bring to a simmer, and cook for 3-4 minutes until slightly thickened.

6. Stir in the Parmesan cheese and season with salt and pepper.

7. Toss the cooked pasta with the creamy mushroom and spinach sauce.

8. Garnish with fresh parsley, serve warm.

AND

Then Now

by Shmully Blesofsky

“Spotless Town”

Union Street between Kingston and Brooklyn Avenues possesses a distinct character, setting it apart from much of the rest of the neighborhood. As the first block developed in the neighborhood at the turn of the century, it embodies Frederick Rowe’s vision of an exclusive, meticulously designed, and forward-thinking residential enclave.

lived there or their guests to drive through. The homes were sold for between $11,000 to $15,000 (about $400,000 to $545,000 in 2025 dollars).

Although Union Street is relatively narrow, this particular stretch feels uncommonly open. The houses are set approximately twenty feet apart, each recessed from the sidewalk with manicured lawns and shaded by mature trees. Unlike the rows of brownstones and brick structures that would come to define many other streets nearby, the homes of what became known as Spotless Town were constructed in Edwardian, English, and Flemish Revival styles, reflecting the style of the early Twentieth Century. These stately three-story residences featured steep staircases, ornamental flourishes, and a striking palette of red brick, all of which contributed to the block’s distinctive charm. The block was set up as a cooperative community, and a gate with a guard was installed on Brooklyn Avenue allowing only those who

This unique one-block development was built by the Eastern Parkway Company, and its founder, Frederick Rowe, was a real estate visionary and developer who envisioned developing an exclusive, clean, and modern neighborhood. What was previously referred to as the Eastern Parkway District or Eastern Parkway Heights subsequently became known as “Spotless Town.”

The moniker “Spotless Town” carried layered significance. It referenced a popular opera of the era, evoked a sense of hygiene and decorum prized by upperclass society, and attempted to distinguish the area from its less refined surroundings—including the rowdy Pig Town near Empire Boulevard, the nearby Crow Hill Penitentiary at President Street and Nostrand Avenue, and a saloon that once stood directly across the Avenue at the corner of Brooklyn and Union.

A centralized heating plant was constructed near Brooklyn Avenue to distribute steam and hot water via underground pipes to each house. The heating plant measured 57x47 1451 UNION STREET

feet, approximately 22 feet deep, with less than 7 feet of the structure visible above ground. It was operated collectively through a corporation known as Parkway Organizers and was in use until 1919, when it was taken down and the final two houses on the block were built.

The idea of an alleyway system behind the homes on the south side of the block was pioneered here and later emulated throughout Crown Heights. (Alleyways are rare in Brooklyn outside of Crown Heights.) In a Brooklyn Times Article in 1903, they describe the back of the houses: “The backyards are just as interesting as the front of the houses, with a hedge marking the lot line and the entrance to the alley ornamented with stone columns fully ten feet high.”

Tradesmen and deliveries were done in the alleyway, while only those who lived there or announced guests came through the block and entered the front of their houses. The stone columns can still be seen today at the entrance to the alleyway.

Among the earliest Jewish residents of this Spotless Town block was Leib Lurie, a trailblazer in the emerging Jewish community of Crown Heights. In 1911, he and his wife Bertha moved from the neighboring BedfordStuyvesant to 1451 Union Street, where they remained for over four decades.

1940 2025

Descending from the great Lurie lineage, Leib was born in Lithuania in the 1860s and immigrated to the United States as a child. He started out working as a carpenter, but with time achieved considerable success in real estate before founding the Kingsboro Mortgage Corporation in 1924. He was widely regarded as a pillar of Brooklyn’s Jewish establishment. As waves of Jewish families migrated from neighboring districts following World War I, Lurie emerged as a leader in the growing community. After moving to Crown Heights, he helped build the Brooklyn Jewish Center—an institution that realized the dual aspirations of religious devotion and civic prestige.

Bertha Rokeach Lurie, too, played a formidable role in Jewish communal life. Alongside Mrs. Prensky, who lived two doors down, and Mrs. Werbelovsky who lived on President Street, Bertha co-founded a society that would eventually give rise to the Brooklyn Hebrew Home and Hospital for the Aged in Brownsville. It was born in response to a tragic episode in which an elderly Jewish man, consigned to Welfare Island, was assaulted by antisemites who tore at his beard and forced him to leap from a window to escape. The resulting injuries galvanized the community, and the institution they

built would grow to become one of the largest of its kind in the world.

The Luries raised their children in a home steeped in Torah values and civic responsibility. Their son, Irving H. Lurie, would go on to become a celebrated architect and developer, credited with designing over 500 synagogues across the United States. Today, five generations later, their descendants continue to proudly uphold the family’s Jewish legacy. Leib passed away at home on August 20, 1948, and Bertha in 1955.

Roughly a decade later, in 1967, Merkos L’inyonei Chinuch acquired the home and repurposed it as a Kollel. The Kollel, which had been established in 5722 (1962), had outgrown its space in 770 and moved to Union Street. The living room that had once hosted meetings for various Jewish charities now resounded with the voices of newly married Torah scholars. On top of the front-facing windows, the words קחצי

שטיוואבויל were added. The first two floors served as a beis midrash, while the third floor was converted into a guest residence, at times housing members of the Jaffe family. Though the basement had never been completed, it was nonetheless used for shechita

training, including shechita knife sharpening classes led by R’ Berel Junik.

In 1973, the Rebbe personally visited 1451 Union Street to inspect the Kollel, delivering a short sicha while later expressing disapproval regarding both the standard of attendance and the physical condition of the building. In the 1980s, the adjacent property was purchased by Merkos. The Kollel continued operating at 1451 Union Street until the early 2000s, when it relocated to the Farband Building, where it remains today. The original structure at 1451 Union Street fell into disrepair and was partially demolished after being condemned by the city in 2007.

Today, the hollowed shell of 1451 Union Street still stands. From its origins as part of “Spotless Town” to its tenure under the Lurie family, to its time as a center of Torah learning, it remains a powerful emblem of Crown Heights’ evolution. Once home to some of the neighborhood’s earliest Jewish philanthropists and pioneers, the site now stands at the threshold of renewal, with the potential to be incorporated into the 770 Eastern Parkway expansion.

Follow us on Instagram @ HistoryOfCrownHeights

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