Jewish Action Summer 2025 by Jewish Action

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FEATURES

TRIBUTE

Tobie Kaplan: The Woman Who Helped Shape Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan’s Enduring Legacy By Tova Cohen

FROM THE PAGES OF JEWISH LIFE

The Editor’s View By Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan

HEALTH AND WELLBEING

My Journey with Dementia

By Wally Klatch, as told to Nechama Carmel

Dementia in Halachah By Rabbi Dr. Jason Weiner

Writing the Final Chapter: A Torah View on Facing Mortality By Rabbi Daniel Rose

When Dad Has Dementia By Rachel Schwartzberg

COVER STORY Voices of Valor: Women advocating for Israel and the Jewish people

The Pen Is Mightier than the Sword: Fay By Barbara Bensoussan

Fighting the Good Fight: Kassy Akiva By Sandy Eller

Getting to the Root of the Story: Meira K. By Merri Ukraincik

Advocacy on a Higher Level: Tziri Preis By Barbara Bensoussan

One Teen’s Fight against Antisemitism: Sofie Glassman By Yehudis Litvak

That Girl Who Loves the Jews: Adina Fernandez By Sarah Ogince

ISRAEL

Twenty Years Later—Remembering the Uprooting of Gush Katif By Carol Ungar

Debbie’s Story By Debbie Rosen, as told to Toby Klein Greenwald

From Gush Katif to the Rebuilt Ganei Tal By Moti and Hana Sender, as told to Toby Klein Greenwald

FROM THE DESK OF RABBI MOSHE HAUER Seeing the Light

MENSCH MANAGEMENT

How Decisions Are Made: A Jewish Perspective on Authority vs. Influence By Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph

JUST BETWEEN US No Labels, No Limits By Rabbi Yisrael Motzen

IN FOCUS

Yes, There Are Jews in Charlotte By Adina Peck

KOSHERKOPY

Test Your Kosher Travel IQ By Rabbi Donneal Epstein

LEGAL-EASE

What’s the Truth about . . . Saying G-d’s Name in the Course of Torah Study? By Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky

THE CHEF’S TABLE

Juicy Fruits: Enjoying the Sweets of Summer By Naomi Ross

NEW FROM OU PRESS

The Eternal Conversation By Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

BOOKS

The Great Z’manim Debate: The History, the Science, and the Lomdus By Rabbi Ahron Notis

Reviewed by Rabbi Yaakov Hoffman

Hakham Tsevi Ashkenazi and the Battlegrounds of the Early Modern Rabbinate By Rabbi Yosie Levine

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein

Letter and Spirit: Evasion, Avoidance and Workarounds in the Halakhic System

By Rabbi Daniel Z. Feldman

Reviewed by Rabbi Moshe Kurtz

REVIEWS IN BRIEF By Rabbi Gil Student

LASTING IMPRESSIONS Keeper of the Tefillin

By Dr. Ethan Schuman

Cover Design: Bacio Design & Marketing, Inc.

Cover Photo Credits:

Top middle: Dani Sarusi

Bottom left: Dina Brookmyer

Bottom right: Chana Stuart

LETTERS

A Senator Remembers Joe Lieberman

THE MAGAZINE OF THE ORTHODOX UNION

jewishaction.com

THE MAGAZINE OF THE ORTHODOX UNION jewishaction.com

Editor in Chief Nechama Carmel carmeln@ou.org

Associate Editor Sarah Weiner

Associate Digital Editor

Assistant Editor Sara Olson

Rachelly Eisenberger

Literary Editor Emeritus Matis Greenblatt

Rabbinic Advisor

Rabbi Yitzchak Breitowitz

Book Editor

Rabbi Gil Student

Book Editor

Contributing Editors

Rabbi Eliyahu Krakowski

Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein • Dr. Judith Bleich

Rabbi Emanuel Feldman • Rabbi Hillel Goldberg

Contributing Editors

Rabbi Sol Roth • Rabbi Jacob J. Schacter

Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein • Moishe Bane • Dr. Judith Bleich

Rabbi Berel Wein

Rabbi Emanuel Feldman • Rabbi Dr. Hillel Goldberg

David Olivestone • Rabbi Sol Roth • Rabbi Jacob J. Schacter

Editorial Committee

Rabbi Menachem Genack’s heartfelt tribute to Joe Lieberman (“Reflections on the Life and Legacy of Joe Lieberman—On the Occasion of His First Yahrtzeit,” spring 2025) brought tears to my eyes because like Rabbi Genack, John McCain and countless others, I admired and loved Joe. Joe’s principles, his courage, his faith, his sincerity, his modesty and his sense of humor defined one of the very best citizens ever to serve our country. How we who knew Joe cherish his memory and mourn his loss!

Gordon Humphrey

Former United States Senator Concord, New Hampshire

Seeing Mezuzot Everywhere You Go

Rabbi Dovid Bashevkin • Rabbi Binyamin Ehrenkranz

Rabbi Berel Wein

Rabbi Avrohom Gordimer • David Olivestone

Gerald M. Schreck • Rabbi Gil Student

Editorial Committee

Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb

Moishe Bane • Rabbi Dovid Bashevkin • Rabbi Yaakov Glasser

David Olivestone • Gerald M. Schreck • Dr. Rosalyn Sherman Rebbetzin Dr. Adina Shmidman • Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb

Design 14Minds

Advertising Sales

Joseph Jacobs Advertising • 201.591.1713 arosenfeld@josephjacobs.org

Copy Editor Hindy Mandel

The OU is to be commended for its project to supervise and standardize the kashrut of mezuzot, as described in Rachel Schwartzberg’s article (“The Making of a Mezuzah,” spring 2025). One factor in the need for this supervision is the marked increase in demand. The article attributes this to several circumstances, including, as Rabbi Moshe Elefant puts it, “We simply have more doorways than ever before.”

Subscriptions 212.613.8140

Design

Bacio Design & Marketing, Inc.

ORTHODOX UNION

Advertising Sales

President Mark (Moishe) Bane

Joseph Jacobs Advertising • 201.591.1713 arosenfeld@josephjacobs.org

Chairman of the Board

Howard Tzvi Friedman

ORTHODOX UNION

Vice Chairman of the Board Mordecai D. Katz

President Mitchel R. Aeder

Chairman, Board of Governors Henry I. Rothman

Chairman, Board of Directors Yehuda Neuberger

Vice Chairman, Board of Governors Gerald M. Schreck

Vice Chairman, Board of Directors Morris Smith

Executive Vice President/Chief Professional Officer Allen I. Fagin

It should be noted that most of these doorways are in Israel where, almost without exception, the approximately eight million Jews living here have mezuzot on their doors. That’s true also for each and every room of all Israeli offices, stores, restaurants, hotels, hospitals, schools, museums and other public buildings, and there’s a huge amount of new construction going on here all the time.

Seeing mezuzot everywhere you go is just one more constant reminder that we live in a Jewish country, and that the entire country is suffused with a Jewish identity and consciousness that cannot be duplicated anywhere else in the world.

David Olivestone Jerusalem, Israel

Chairman, Board of Governors Henry Orlinsky

Chief Institutional Advancement Officer Arnold Gerson

Senior Managing Director

Vice Chairman, Board of Governors Jerry Wolasky

Rabbi Steven Weil

Executive Vice President, Emeritus

What Not-Yet-Religious Jews Really Want

Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb

Executive Vice President Rabbi Moshe Hauer

Chief Financial Officer/Chief Administrative Officer Shlomo Schwartz

Executive Vice President & Chief Operating Officer

Rabbi Josh Joseph, Ed.D.

Chief Human Resources Officer

Rabbi Lenny Bessler

Executive Vice President, Emeritus

Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb

Chief Information Officer Samuel Davidovics

Managing Director, Communal Engagement

Chief Innovation Officer

Rabbi Yaakov Glasser

Rabbi Dave Felsenthal

Director, Jewish Media, Publications and Editorial Communications

Rabbi Gil Student

Director of Marketing and Communications Gary Magder

Jewish Action Committee

Dr. Rosalyn Sherman, Chair

Gerald M. Schreck, Chairman

Joel M. Schreiber, Chairman Emeritus

Gerald M. Schreck, Co-Chair

Joel M. Schreiber, Chairman Emeritus

40 Rector Street, 4th Floor, New York, NY 10006

Telephone 212.563.4000 • www.ou.org

Twitter: @Jewish_Action

Facebook: Jewish Action Magazine

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Liel Leibovitz’s article, “What Jews Really Want” (winter 2024) was really on the mark. What not-yet-religious Jews are really looking for, Leibovitz writes, is a “real, serious, meaningful, character-building challenge.” This reminds me of an experience I had about twenty years ago when I was working as a summer intern for a secular Jewish newspaper in Cleveland, Ohio. During the Three Weeks [the period of mourning the Churban when it is customary to refrain from haircuts and shaving], I along with my fellow intern, also an Orthodox Jew, stopped shaving. One of our co-workers, who was interested in learning more about Judaism, asked us about it. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I responded with a humorous quip. Well, the co-worker was a bit taken aback and said, “So this is all just a joke for you guys!” His response hit me hard. He was looking for a more meaningful answer. A couple of years later, I came across an article written by the same co-worker about a Discovery Seminar he had attended, where he describes being very inspired. Yes, meaningful discussion is one of the best ways to bring Jews back to the fold.

Ariel Galian Beitar, Israel

A Key Ingredient to Success in Outreach

In “Rabbi Dovid Bashevkin on Jewish Identity Post–October 7,” (winter 2024), Rabbi Bashevkin provides a troubling analysis of the state of Yiddishkeit in America outside of the ghetto walls. One thing was missing from his analysis: Chabad.

Chabad is already doing all the things that Rabbi Bashevkin correctly says needs to be done, and that is the entire focus of their movement.

The reason why no one else under the Orthodox umbrella has been able to even tangentially replicate Chabad’s success, their good ideas and motivations notwithstanding, is because a key ingredient of that success is missing: mesirus nefesh. What other group has young couples willing to move 1,000 miles away from the nearest minyan to set up shop?

Full disclosure: I am not affiliated with Chabad and my sons learned in Brisk, Mir, Ner Moshe and other Litvishe yeshivahs. But facts are facts.

Meir Zev Mark Beitar Illit, Israel

Avoiding Mixed Messages

The recent collection of stories about people who have left the Orthodox fold (“Leaving the Fold: The OU’s new study provides insight into attrition,” spring 2025), and the role of families and schools—sometimes in conflict with each other over a child’s level of frumkeit—reminded me of something that happened in my life a few decades ago.

One of my colleagues was a proud but not-strictly-Torahobservant Jew, who had worked at a series of jobs with Jewish institutions.

This co-worker (I’ll call him Stan) and his wife sent their two young daughters to a Modern Orthodox day school in their New York neighborhood. At the same time, Stan, an avid basketball player, met his friends every Saturday, weather permitting, to shoot some hoops. I don’t know what Stan’s daughters told their parents when they came home from school, but I do know that one day he told me that his gamesplaying behavior on Shabbat sent an inconsistent message to his children—whom he wanted to take their Jewish studies seriously. Stan stopped the basketball on Shabbat. And no more shopping then, too. Soon, there was a higher level of kashrut in the family’s apartment. And Stan started going to Shabbat services each week.

Not familiar with tefillin (he had learned about them at his bar mitzvah but had not diligently put them on since then), he had me show him the procedure. I used a pair I kept in my desk.

In time, Stan retired from his job at my office, and the family made aliyah, settling in Jerusalem. Now, Stan attends a daily Torah study session every day. And his daughters are committed, Orthodox Jews—because their parents didn’t want

to send mixed messages about the importance of modeling at home the lessons about Judaism that the daughters were learning in school.

Steve Lipman

Forest Hills, New York

Rabbi Aaron Rakeffet’s Teaching Career

In Rabbi Ron Yitzchok Eisenman’s review of Rakafot Aharon: Timeless Halakhah and Contemporary History (spring 2025), the reviewer states that Rabbi Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff started teaching “when Richard Nixon was president.” I was in his last pre-aliyah shiur at Yeshiva University’s High School for Boys (MTA) which began in September, 1968, when Lyndon B. Johnson was the president. In fact, when Rabbi Rakeffet began teaching at MTA, John F. Kennedy was president. But, in the interest of completeness, when “Arnie Rothkoff” was teaching Torah to public school kids in the Bronx, Dwight D. Eisenhower was still president. In short, his teaching career has spanned thirteen administrations (fourteen, if you count Donald Trump twice). Very impressive indeed.

David Gleicher

Jerusalem, Israel

[Ed. Note: The statement about Richard Nixon was an editorial error and did not originate with the writer.]

Debating the Rav’s Position

As a longtime admirer of both Rabbi Aaron RakeffetRothkoff and Rabbi Ron Yitzchok Eisenman, I found the review of the former’s book, Rakafot Aharon: Timeless Halakhah and Contemporary History, especially enjoyable. Rabbi Eisenman writes regarding the Rav’s opinion on the Langer case: “Rabbi Rakeffet quotes a ‘confidant’ of Rabbi Soloveitchik who maintains that the Rav supported Rabbi Goren privately, but the fact is that the Rav did not say anything publicly on the subject.”

I believe that the Rav did address the subject publicly, and he was clear in his opposition to Rabbi Goren’s heter In his well-publicized speech in 1975 decrying the potential annulment of kiddushin, the Rav noted that certain halachic problems are unsolvable. (Audio of this portion of the speech is available on YUTorah.org, titled “Gerus & Mesorah—Part 1,” at approximately thirty-nine minutes.)

The Rav said, “However, if you think that the solution lies in the reformist philosophy, or in an extraneous interpretation of the halachah, you are badly mistaken. It is self-evident; many problems are insoluble, you can’t help it. For instance, there was the problem of these two mamzerim in Eretz Yisrael—you can’t help it. All we have is the institution of mamzer. No one can abandon it—neither the Rav HaRoshi, nor the Rosh HaGolah.

What can we do? This is Toras Moshe . . . . This is kabbalat ol malchut Shamayim . We surrender.

It cannot be abandoned. It is a pasuk in Chumash: ‘Lo yavo mamzer bekehal Hashem.’ It’s very tragic; the Midrash already spoke about it, ‘vehineh dimat ha’ashukim’ [and behold, the tears of the oppressed], but it’s a religious reality. If we say to our opponents or to the dissident Jews, ‘That is our stand’— they will dislike us, they will say we are inflexible, we are ruthless, we are cruel, but they will respect us. But however, if you try to cooperate with them, or even if certain halachic schemes are introduced from within, I don’t know; you would not command love, you would not get their love, but you will certainly lose their respect. It’s exactly what happened in Eretz Yisrael. What can we do? This is Toras Moshe, and this is surrender. This is kabbalat ol malchut Shamayim. We surrender.”

The Rav is clearly referring to the Langer case, an example of something “unsolvable” and that “you can’t help it,” not even the Rav HaRoshi. He seems to be using Rav Goren’s heter as an example of a “halachic scheme introduced from within.”

According to the Rav, the more appropriate response would have been to surrender to halachah; the attempted heter was a futile attempt to coax love out of dissident Jews.

Jacob Sasson Passaic, New Jersey

Rabbi Rakeffet Responds

Regarding shiurim I gave about a half century ago on the “brother and sister controversy,” I can tell you that my knowledge of the Rav’s position was the result of conversations with two distinguished colleagues and friends, namely, Rabbis Aharon Lichtenstein and Emanuel Holzer. They both explained to me the Rav’s halachic position and why he did not go public. Their information both verified and complemented their approaches.

Regarding the Rav’s speech in 1975, I am very well aware of this talk. I actually was the first one to publicize it in Israel, as Rabbi Holzer sent me a recording. I recreated the speech with all the sources at that time. I believe that the Rav is not referring to Rabbi Goren’s pesak per se but rather to the atmosphere created by the public discussion about the halachic status of the children. In the media of that period, endless personalities advocated for the abrogation of the laws of mamzeirut. I lived through that period, and I recall my many public lectures explaining these sacred laws as a bastion of holiness and the basis of the Jewish family. I still recall my pain at the time when I heard some very influential individuals decry “Devar Hashem zu halachah—the word of G-d, this is halachah” (Gittin 60b).

However, one must recall that this lecture was not about the brother and sister. It was rather a refutation of a proposal that was made at that time to establish a Beit Din in New York that would retroactively annul marriages when the husband refused to give a get or made excessive demands upon the woman. I discuss this topic at length in Rakafot Aharon, vol 4. I gained much more knowledge about this topic over the subsequent generations. I have returned to this topic and lectured on it many times in the Gruss Kollel. Much of it is available on YUTorah.org.

A Plea for Healthier Kosher Options

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

To send a letter to Jewish Action, e-mail ja@ou.org. Letters may be edited for clarity.

Transliterations in the magazine are based on Sephardic pronunciation, unless an author is known to use Ashkenazic pronunciation. Thus, the inconsistencies in transliterations in the magazine are due to authors’ or interviewees' preferences.

This magazine contains divrei Torah and should therefore be disposed of respectfully by either double-wrapping prior to disposal or placing in a recycling bin.

Having kept a kosher home for nearly thirty years, over time, I have grown increasingly concerned about the ingredients in many kosher products. It is alarming to see how many of these foods are filled with unhealthy, even toxic, additives. Compared to other countries, the United States is experiencing significantly higher levels of morbidity, and I believe this is closely linked to the overwhelming presence of artificial and toxic chemicals in our food supply.

It is no secret that millions of Americans suffer from chronic illnesses, and these have dramatically increased over the decades. Many studies have shown a direct correlation between the rise in these diseases and the widespread use of synthetic chemicals in packaged foods. Notably, the spraying of glyphosate on commercial crops starting in the mid-90s has been linked to many chronic health issues. This is just the tip of the iceberg, as ingredients like artificial dyes and chemicals are still permitted here, despite being banned in other countries. Why is this allowed?

In the small Jewish community where I live, we have limited kosher options, but organic, all-natural whole foods are available in most grocery stores. Yet, when I visit larger Jewish communities with numerous kosher markets, I am dismayed to find that these healthier options are virtually nonexistent. There are countless processed kosher products with artificial, unhealthy ingredients on their shelves. Why?

With the growing focus on public health and wellness, I truly hope the kashrut industry—together with food manufacturers and kosher markets—can become a voice for promoting and providing healthier food options. We need kosher products that are free from harmful, artificial ingredients.

Our spiritual and physical health are interconnected, so it’s baffling that Jews seem to separate this concept when it comes to consuming food. Kashrut is vital to the Jewish people, but keeping kosher should also support our physical wellbeing.

Shoshana Rivkah Lulky Little Rock, Arkansas

OU Kosher Responds

Thank you for contacting the OU.

The OU is a kosher-certifying agency. Health aspects of food production are beyond our area of expertise.

Halachah is extremely sensitive to matters of health, to the extent that chamira sakanta meisura (life-threatening health concerns generally take precedence over halachic restrictions). Nonetheless, as a kashrus agency, the expertise of the OU is limited to the domain of kosher supervision, and the evaluation of the health status of a facility is beyond the scope of the OU’s mandate. Health inspectors receive extensive training before they are qualified to perform inspections and evaluations, and OU mashgichim are not trained in this area. There are government agencies that are entrusted with the responsibility of ensuring the safety of food items, and the OU certifies products that meet the criteria of public health and safety requirements.

Rabbi Chanoch Sofer

Webbe Rebbe, OU Kosher

With heartfelt appreciation for his many years of thoughtful guidance, creativity and dedication on the Jewish Action Editorial Board, we warmly congratulate David Olivestone on his new role as Contributing Editor. We’re excited to continue benefiting from his voice and vision in the pages of the magazine.

SEEING THE LIGHT

By Rabbi Moshe Hauer

We write a lot about challenges, but this message focuses on opportunities. It derives from having spent a recent Shabbat with the staff of this year’s OU-NCSY summer programs. These hundreds of religiously engaged young men and women were preparing to spend many weeks with thousands of Jewish teens with whom they will share their love for G-d, Torah and the Jewish people. Hundreds more will do the same on our Yachad and Jewish Learning Initiative on Campus (JLIC) summer programs.

In our morning Amidah prayer, we turn to Hashem and ask Him to bless us “be’or panecha—with the light of Your face.” While this can be understood as a metaphorical request for G-d to visibly demonstrate His love for us, it may also be a request that our own faces exhibit a heavenly glow like that of Moshe, whose face

vice

radiated brilliantly when he returned from his intimate and transformative experience with G-d at Sinai.

Those young people visibly carry that blessing. Their spirituality glows and their faces radiate goodness. Being with them was uplifting, hopeful and enlightening on several fronts.

Confronting Antisemitism: We Are Winning!

Organizations tracking incidents of antisemitic harassment, vandalism and assault in the United States report a continuous rise in those numbers. Evidently, all the Jewish communal activism to reduce antisemitism is not proving effective. One might therefore say we are losing the battle, but that is only correct if you define victory by lessening manifestations of Jew-hatred. Recognizing, however, that the antisemites’ ultimate goal is to, Heaven forbid, weaken or destroy Jews and Judaism, then it is evident that we are winning as, with Hashem’s help, we witness a repeat of the historic phenomenon that first emerged during the original anti-Jewish persecutions in Egypt: “The more they were oppressed, the more they grew and expanded.”1

Engagement in Jewish life has indeed surged since the attacks on Shemini Atzeret 5784, October 7, 2023. Broad communal studies2 have documented that this was not just an immediate post–October 7 spike; the growth has continued since then. Within the OU, we see this on many fronts, including, for example, a dramatic 50-percent increase in NCSY’s Jewish Student Union (JSU) public school clubs throughout the country, and elevated Torah engagement of both men and women on all our OU platforms.

The antisemites are doing their best to weaken and to destroy Jews and Judaism, but throughout the world

we are responding to the hostility by doubling down on being there for each other and elevating our engagement in Torah and mitzvot, the essential identity of the eternal Jewish people. The smashed idols of failed contemporary ideals have made room for many Jews to return home to Jewish community and values. From the Orthodox to the unaffiliated, October 7 and October 8 have generated a wonderful backlash of prosemitism.

Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin (the Netziv of Volozhin), in his classic essay on antisemitism, She’ar Yisrael, 3 advanced a thesis4 that antisemitism is G-d’s way of protecting and preserving Jewish identity. In the Netziv’s wry reading of Vehi She’amda, 5 we declare that those who in every generation set out to destroy us have, in fact, prevented our destruction by disrupting our assimilation into the surrounding society and driving us to come home to G-d, Torah and Klal Yisrael. The surge in Jewish engagement following attacks on the Jews here and in Israel is not an incidental reaction to these events but their Divinely intended result. That renewed positive energy is visible in these young men and women. While we often wring our communal hands bemoaning the prevalence of religious disconnection and complacency, the NCSY summer staff are spiritually engaged and ambitious. The light in their eyes reflected their vibrant bond to Judaism—apparent in the way they davened and sang, related to others and carried themselves, and eagerly learned Torah and wisdom from the assembled faculty. Sincerity, passion and purpose were everywhere. “Lo alman Yisrael the Jewish people are not bereft.”6 A community that has raised such a dynamic force of glowing young men and women is the farthest thing from bereft, and the experience of the past

Rabbi Moshe Hauer is executive

president of the Orthodox Union.

nineteen months has made their glow grow even brighter. That glow is a key indicator of success in the battle against antisemitism. With Hashem’s help, we are winning.

Who Will Educate the Next Generation?

What made these young people shine? Undoubtedly each of those stars has a back story with unique supporting actors, including parents and teachers, communities and schools, mentors and informal experiences leading them to the meaningful connection they have to Hashem, His Torah and His people. But the key element that produced that light in their eyes and brought them together this past Shabbat is their sense of mission to share the Torah they love with people they care for. Like Moshe whose radiance was on display specifically when he was sharing Hashem’s words with the Jewish people,7 their glow reflects their eagerness to do the same. They are poised, motivated and empowered to make a real difference, leaving them no room for apathy or indifference. Their sense of mission is not a nice extra to look for in an excited group of camp counselors. It is core to our identity as believers and as Torah learners.

Rambam noted in his Sefer Hamitzvot8 that because people are naturally moved to share their passions, the mitzvah to love G-d includes within it the mandate to impart that love to others, “sheyehei shem Shamayim mitaheiv al yadcha so that the name of Heaven becomes beloved because of you.”9 Avraham was the primary example of this as he loved Hashem10 and was a driving force in bringing others to His service.11 The mission to share our faith with others is both a stimulant and an outgrowth of our ahavat Hashem (love of G-d).

Rambam similarly considers both the learning and teaching of Torah to be components of a single mitzvah, lilmod chochmat haTorah ul’lamda 12 One might trace this to the Rambam’s own citation13 of the Sages’ view that one’s love for G-d is best expressed

through the learning of His Torah. Torah study therefore adopts the same rules as the love of G-d, where having it and sharing it are inseparable. Can we really be thirsty for knowledge and engaged in learning without also being driven to share that knowledge?

This mission to teach is also an essential aspect of our Jewishness. In conveying the history of worship, Rambam speaks of how when Avraham discovered the One G-d, he proceeded to smash the idols worshipped by his contemporaries.14 Avraham, however, was not the world’s first righteous monotheist. Why had this smashing of the idols not been performed earlier by Shem and Ever, ancestors and predecessors of Avraham who also believed in the One G-d? Ra’avad suggests that they had not even been aware of the idols, whereas Rabbi Yosef Karo, in his Kessef Mishneh, explains that while Shem believed in the same G-d as Avraham, he only shared that belief with those who came to seek it from him, while Avraham was committed to proactively transforming the world and redirecting the faith of others. Ra’avad and Kessef Mishneh are presenting the two distinguishing elements of the Abrahamic and Jewish mission: noticing and caring about the religious well-being of others.

In his discussion of antisemitism, the Netziv takes note of the unusual choice of the term itself.15 When were we ever called Semites rather than Jews/Yehudim or Hebrews/Ivrim? He suggests that this appellation implies a reduced Jewish stature and worthiness and posits that part of the curse of antisemitism is the humiliation of our being seen by the world as undeserving of the loftier titles of Ivrim or Yehudim such that we can only be described as simple Shemites.

The Jewish community cannot be satisfied with Semitism, a faith that we observe and maintain but are not committed to share and inspire others with. If we are to be faithful to the vision and mission of Avraham, we must have a religious culture that inspires young and old to notice and

to care for the wellbeing and the Jewishness of other Jews. We cannot possibly have a dearth of people dedicated to teaching and caring for other Jews. Like Avraham, Jews should be sitting at the doors of our individual, familial and communal tents, scanning the horizon to identify individuals with whom we can share what we have to offer and rushing forward to share it with them.

This shining cadre of young men and women are doing just that, and we must hold them up as the children of Avraham and Sarah, examples of what a Jew is meant to be, to feel and to do, encouraging them and many others to nurture a lifetime passion to notice and care for the religious wellbeing of every member of Klal Yisrael.

Endnote

I was far from the only one who saw the light in this remarkable group of young men and women. The hotel where the summer staff training was held simultaneously housed a group of Chareidi Israeli leaders currently positioned at crucial junctures of influence within Israel, in critical Knesset committees and government ministries and in local councils and mayoral offices. While the visiting group had been focused on protecting and strengthening their own community’s interests, they had come to the United States for a week-long mission to broaden their horizons and learn more about American Jewry, and they eagerly began and ended their Shabbat in the uplifting company of our summer staff. As they described it, their encounter with our young people and “the fire in their eyes” helped them see a broad and uplifting model of commitment to Klal Yisrael that was enormously impactful and the highlight of their week, leaving them wondering how they could learn from them and bring this secret sauce to their own children and students in whose eyes they did not always see that fire.

“Barcheinu Avinu kulanu k’echad be’or panecha—Bless us, our Father, all of us as one, with the light of Your

Easy, Breezy Summer with Tnuva

EFFORTLESS DAIRY DELIGHTS FOR SUMMER

Crunchy Israeli Salad with Quark

Serves: 6

Fleishigs Issue #59

A creamy base is all the rage and don’t skimp on the herbs — it makes this dish pop!

3 Persian cucumbers, diced

2 firm tomatoes, diced

3 radishes, diced

2 scallions, thinly sliced

½ cup mixed chopped herbs (parsley, dill and/or cilantro)

Juice of 1 lemon

½ teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 (8-ounce) container Tnuva quark

Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1. Toss cucumbers, tomatoes, radishes, scallions and herbs with lemon juice and salt.

2. Spread quark onto a serving plate or platter, then top with salad. Drizzle with olive oil and a sprinkle of pepper. Season with more salt, to taste.

Za’atar Feta Salad

Serves: 6-8

Issue #36

This is an Israeli take on the classic Greek salad — there’s saltiness from the feta, freshness from the vegetables, tanginess from the vinaigrette and texture from the roasted chickpeas.

FOR THE VINAIGRETTE:

¼ cup olive oil

¼ cup fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

1 tablespoon honey

1 clove garlic, minced

1½ teaspoons za’atar, plus more for garnish

½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

½ teaspoon kosher salt

FOR THE SALAD:

6 cups mixed greens

1½ cups sliced tomatoes

2 Persian cucumbers, sliced

½ cup olives

1 cup crumbled Tnuva feta cheese, divided

1½ cups Roasted Chickpeas

1. For the vinaigrette, add all ingredients to a jar, seal tightly and shake until fully emulsified.

2. Toss greens, tomatoes, cucumbers and olives in a large bowl. Add ½ cup feta and vinaigrette; lightly toss to coat. Top with remaining ½ cup feta and a sprinkle of za’atar.

Fleishigs

face.” In these times of deep division within Klal Yisrael, these glowing and radiant young men and women, admired by every Jew they encounter, are a blessing from Hashem and a glimmer of hope that we will triumph over antisemitism, inspire the teachers and students of the next generation, and eventually come together as one, as Klal Yisrael, noticing and caring for each other.

Notes

1. Parashat Shemot 1:12.

2. https://www.jewishfederations.org/ fedworld/federations-new-study-490865.

3. This essay was published along with the Netziv’s commentary on Shir Hashirim and is available here: https:// he.wikisource.org/wiki/%D7%A9%D7%9 0%D7%A8_%D7%99%D7%A9%D7%A8 %D7%90%D7%9C. An annotated English version of the essay was published by Rabbi Howard Joseph, z”l—father of Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph, OU executive vice president and chief operating officer—as Why Antisemitism? A Translation of “The Remnant of Israel” (New Jersey, 1996).

4. This thesis was also promoted by many others, including Rashi in his Sefer Hapardes Hagadol, who wrote of the “profound gratitude the Jewish people must express to G-d for generating hostility between them and the nations, as without that, they would assimilate with the nations and adopt their ways . . . therefore Hodu la’Hashem ki tov—give thanks to Hashem for He is good; His kindness is everlasting.”

5. She’ar Yisrael, chap. 3, and the Netziv’s Imrei Shefer commentary on the Haggadah.

6. Yirmiyahu 51:5.

7. Parashat Shemot 34:29-35.

8. Positive commandment 3.

9. Sifrei Devarim 32:2.

10. Yeshayahu 41:8.

11. Rashi to Bereishit 12:5.

12. Sefer Hamitzvot, positive commandment 11.

13. Sefer Hamitzvot, positive commandment 3.

14. Rambam, Hilchot Avodah Zarah 1:3.

15. She’ar Yisrael, chap. 5.

HOW DECISIONS ARE MADE: A Jewish Perspective on Authority vs. Influence

By Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph

In the corridors of executive suites and community institutions alike, we often encounter the perennial question: What truly drives decision-making—authority or influence?

As one who has spent much of my career navigating both organizational and communal life, I’ve found that the answer lies less in theoretical models and more in the quiet spaces where trust, authenticity and human connection live. Authority is granted by title, by structure, by appointment. It’s the CEO’s corner office, the rabbi’s pulpit, the principal’s desk. It enables decisions, allocates power and often provides clarity in moments of ambiguity. But authority alone does not ensure followership. In fact, authority without influence breeds compliance at best— and resentment at worst.

Influence, on the other hand, is earned. It is the currency of credibility, consistency and character. Influence lives in the realm of the emotional, the relational and the deeply personal. Where authority might compel action, influence invites alignment.

There is a kind of secret hack to leadership—one that is often overlooked in textbooks and ignored by PowerPoint decks—and that is influence.

As the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks points out: “Power, in other words, is a zero-sum game: the more you share, the less you have. Influence is not like this, as we see with our Prophets. When it comes to leadership-as-influence, the more we share the more we have.”

Leadership is not necessarily about authority. In fact, decision-making often derives from those who use the power of influence.

A few relevant lessons about influence:

1. Influence is not about titles. In his piece “You Don’t Need to Be ‘the Boss’ to Be a Leader,” published in Harvard Business Review (February 2023), Matt Mayberry asserts that leadership isn’t tethered to a title—it’s tethered to behavior. Leadership means committing to personal growth, embracing your unique skills and connecting with others on a deep level. As Mayberry writes: “It all comes down to how we communicate, rather than what we communicate.” True leaders operate from a mindset of service, not status. Vulnerability, authenticity and empathy go a long way.

2. Influence is democratic. Influence is a precious commodity, but perhaps its most remarkable feature is that anyone

When people follow you not because they have to but because they want to—that is leadership worth having.

can wield it. It isn’t about job titles or seniority. Influence can come from the assistant who knows how to read the room better than anyone else, or the recent graduate whose insight in a meeting changes the whole direction of a project.

I’ve seen firsthand how a seemingly minor comment in the middle of a strategy session—offered without fanfare by an entry-level professional— reshaped the trajectory of a months-long initiative. At a much earlier stage in my career, a colleague loudly and derisively rejected an idea of mine outright, only for me to hear him advocating the very same concept six months later after I’d quietly and consistently introduced it in different ways over time.

3. Influence can be very quiet. When wielded wisely, influence is subtle and strategic. Less is more. It isn’t about dominating the conversation; it’s about knowing when to speak and how to listen. Sometimes it’s the softspoken comment in the middle of a meeting— or the conversation in the hallway between meetings—that shifts the mood, reframes the challenge or opens a new possibility.

Moshe Rabbeinu, perhaps the most authoritative figure and certainly the most significant leader in Jewish history, wielded immense power: he spoke face to face with Hashem, led an entire people out of slavery and received the Torah on Har Sinai. Yet his leadership was not defined by authority alone.

Consider the episode in Shemot 18:17–18 where Moshe’s father-in-law, Yitro, observes him adjudicating every case, large and small. Yitro advises:

Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph is executive vice president/chief operating officer of the Orthodox Union.

Eighty-nine percent of business schools offer classes on how to speak and present, with very few teaching how to listen. But listening is where influence begins.

“Lo tov hadavar asher atah oseh—What you are doing is not good. Navol tibol gam atah gam ha’am hazeh asher imach ki chaveid mimcha hadavar lo tuchal asohu levadecha—You are going to wear yourself out, both you and these people who are with you, for the matter is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone.”

He then proposes a decentralized model of leadership, empowering others to take on responsibility. Moshe, despite his Divine appointment, listens. He adapts. He shares leadership.

This moment is powerful. It shows that authority must be tempered with humility and that true influence often comes not from knowing all the answers but from knowing how and when to empower others. This is also exemplified by Yitro himself when he says, “Atah shema b’koli iatzcha—Now listen to me, I will give you counsel” (Shemot 18:19). He gives advice, not commands, provides direction, not directives.

This is Jewish leadership. Not dominance, but empowerment. Not command, but connection.

The Jewish communal world offers a unique leadership laboratory. We operate in mission-driven environments where authority is often diffuse and influence is everything. A shul president may have technical authority, but a long-time congregant or respected community member may hold more sway. An executive director might control the budget, but an educator or rabbi might hold the emotional loyalty of the stakeholders. This complexity can be frustrating—but it’s also beautiful. It demands leaders who are emotionally intelligent, spiritually attuned and deeply human. It reminds us that leadership is not a function of title but of trust.

Perhaps the prime exemplar of the use of influence over authority may

actually be Hashem. In Parashat Ha’azinu (Devarim 32:2), the pasuk says: “Ya’arof kamatar likchi tizal katal imrati kise’irim alei deshe v’chirvivim alei eisev—My doctrine shall drop as the rain, my speech shall trickle as the dew, as the droplets on the tender grass, as the showers on the herb.”

What a beautiful description of Hashem’s teachings and guidance—His Torah—trickling down to us, growing us gently, rather than hammering on our heads and pounding us into the dirt.

The Netziv points out that when Hashem delivers His message softly, with a kol demamah dakah (a voice of thin silence), we are compelled to lean in to listen deeper, to work harder on our end to receive it. The softer the voice, the deeper the impact.

Take a moment and ask yourself: Who influences you? Is it your parent, spouse, assistant, colleague, friend, sibling? And perhaps more humbling: Whom do you influence? Through your words, yes, but perhaps even more through your silence, your actions, your timing. We live in an age saturated with “influencers,” many of whom proclaim their status loudly. But when someone tells you they are an influencer, does it make you more, or less, likely to listen?

One of my personal role models for leading a life of influence was Chaim Shimon (Simon) Felder, z”l, whose first yahrtzeit will have passed when this essay is published. Reb Shimon was a true influencer. I’m not sure I even realized he was the mayor of our village on Long Island, New York, until he had already been in the role for a couple of years. I just thought everyone listened to him because he was smart. When he spoke with you, you felt he was taking you seriously, listening to you and focusing on you. No matter your age or who

you were in the community. And then, subtly, he would share his thoughts and ideas and opinions. And almost always I walked away with a new perspective, a new concept, a new way of thinking about a difficult issue or question, whether it pertained to the public sphere, Torah or the Jewish community. His well-documented stories about surviving the Holocaust are surely deserving of attention. But beyond his incredible life accomplishments, he exemplified the traits of being a true influencer to everyone he met.

Real influence is usually quiet; it doesn’t need to be declared. And yet our systems rarely teach this. Eighty-nine percent of business schools offer classes on how to speak and present, with very few teaching how to listen. But listening is where influence begins. And validation is where it grows.

We respond to blessings with “ amen”—a word that means “true.” Why not just stay silent? Because validation is a key element of connection, and connection is the foundation of influence. Saying “amen” is more than agreement—it’s a way of making someone else’s voice a little more real in the world. That is the essence of influence: being present, bearing witness and lending weight to someone else’s words.

Authority provides the vessel—it creates the structure within which leadership can operate. But influence is the flame. It is what warms, illuminates and sustains. As leaders—in business, in our communities and in our lives— we must cultivate both. But if we must choose which to lead with, let us begin with influence. Because when people follow you not because they have to but because they want to—that is leadership worth having.

Whether you sit at the head of the table or not, you have the power to lead—through word, action, silence and sincerity. The question is not whether you have influence. The question is: how will you use it?

TOBIE KAPLAN

The Woman Who Helped Shape Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan’s

Enduring Legacy

By Tova Cohen

Photos courtesy of

n the quaint town of Merigold, nestled in the heart of the Mississippi Delta, Tobie Goldstein was born to parents who observed little in the way of Jewish tradition. As their only child, Tobie was cherished, she got only came during visits to her slightly more observant grandparents in Louisville,

Though Judaism was not a cornerstone of their own lives, Tobie’s parents knew she was destined for something greater. When they heard about a young rabbi teaching at the local day school in Louisville, fresh from studying at the prestigious Mir Yeshiva in Jerusalem, they urged Tobie to arrange a hasty visit to her grandparents and seek out an

That rabbi was the legendary Aryeh Kaplan, though at the time he was just a young scholar with a brilliant mind for both religion and science and an uncharted path before him. Eventually, he would become one of the preeminent Jewish thinkers and authors of our time with an extensive literary output. One day, he would inspire droves of unaffiliated Jewish teens and young adults through NCSY with his unique , fanning the flames as they grew into something much brighter. But few know of the profound role his beloved wife played in helping

“My mother, who passed away last year, was the driving force behind everything my father accomplished and who he became,” said Micha, the fifth in Rabbi and Tobie Kaplan’s line of nine children and a devoted keeper of his parents’ story, especially his mother’s. “It was my mother who, early on in the marriage, decided to make Shabbos with guests an integral part of their marriage and a focus in our home.”

“My mother is the one who really set the tone,” continued Micha, “not just for my father but for our home and the lives

With Tobie’s steadfast support, Rabbi Kaplan went on to become one of the greatest interpreters of Jewish thought into English in modern times and a key figure in the 1970s

To try and eke out a living for their growing family, the Kaplans moved frequently—from Louisville to Maryland (where Rabbi Kaplan earned an advanced physics degree) to Iowa to Tennessee to Dover, New Jersey, and then Albany,

Brooklyn, where Tobie reveled being in the heart of Jewish life and where she further anchored her young family in a structured and strong framework of religious Judaism.

But the family struggled financially. “My father wore the same sweater for twenty-five years to the point where it had visible holes,” recalled Micha. “I remember walking to school in the snow with worn-out shoes, too. But my mother had simple needs, and money wasn’t important to her. Her values

“Having an open home teeming with guests was one of my mother’s biggest priorities,” said Tobie’s daughter, Abby Rosenfeld. “Since she grew up as an only child, she was determined to always be surrounded by people. She had nine children, and she always had as many guests as possible for Shabbos.”

The Kaplan home also had a constant influx of devoted followers who never missed a shiur; they were drawn to Rabbi Kaplan’s effortless ability to convey the most complex ideas in a straightforward way.

“My father would hold classes in the house, and I remember my mother’s valiant efforts to try and keep all the kids quiet,” remembered Micah. “It couldn’t have been easy, but she always encouraged my father’s Torah pursuits.”

One regular attendee of Rabbi Kaplan’s in-house shiurim was Yitta Halberstam, journalist and author of the Small Miracles series. “I remember Tobie as a very warm and hospitable woman with the most charming Southern accent,” recalled Yitta. “She clearly gave her husband a lot of latitude to devote himself to the tzibbur (community), and she seemed perfectly comfortable and very proud that he was involved with inspiring and helping so many people.”

Tova Cohen is a fundraising communications professional and college essay coach. She lives in New Jersey with her family.

Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, seen here with one of his sons. Courtesy of the Kaplan family

Abby elaborates on Micha’s earlier point about her mother’s reverence for Shabbos.

“My mother did not have a lot of material possessions, but she received a set of silver candlesticks as a gift and she treated them with extraordinary devotion, cleaning them regularly,” recounted Abby. “They were central to her Shabbos experience.”

Despite the constant flurry of children and guests, Abby remembered, her mother remained calm. “She was never frazzled or uptight while preparing for Shabbos,” said Abby. “One of my most cherished memories is making challah with her every Friday morning.” Because Abby made challah with her mother weekly, she was able to effortlessly recite the recipe by heart to her amazed teacher in the second grade who asked about the delicious bread Abby had brought to share with her class.

A Legacy Flourishes

It was during this time living in Boro Park that Rabbi Kaplan was recruited to work for NCSY by Rabbi Pinchas Stolper, who came across his writing in a journal for Orthodox Jewish scientists and was immediately taken with Rabbi Kaplan’s extraordinary writing style.

Beyond his in-person influence, Rabbi Kaplan had a remarkable literary output, having written ten hugely

influential books for NCSY exploring Judaism’s foundational principles and central a series of booklets refuting the teachings of Christian missionaries intent on luring Jews into messianic “Judaism” at the time. He also served as editor of the OU’s the predecessor to

In fact, Rabbi Kaplan became the preeminent writer in the world of English-language Judaica. His prolific body of work includes The Handbook of Jewish Thought and translations of obscure Kabbalistic texts like the Sefer Yetzirah demonstrating intellectual rigor and a deep understanding of how to illuminate complex concepts for the masses.

A force in the popular speaker and a regular keynote at NCSY events where teens found him, despite his brilliance, both approachable and relatable.

“Throughout history, Jews have always been observant,” Rabbi Kaplan once stated in an interview. The movement is just a normalization. The Jewish people are sort of getting their act together. We’re just doing what we’re supposed to do.”

But, emphasize his children, Rabbi Kaplan would have never become so prominent in the growing such a prolific writer had Tobie not taken the reins of running their home and raising their children, serving as a behind-thescenes pillar of strength, wisdom and quiet devotion.

My mother was the driving force behind everything my father accomplished and who he became.

Family members of Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan at the launch of the NCSY Aryeh Kaplan Library in 2021. Left to right: Ayala Kaplan (Micha’s wife), Esther Malka and Goldie Eisig (grandchildren), Rochel Eisig, Abby Rosenfeld, Rebbetzin Tobie Kaplan, Rabbi Dovid Bashevkin (director of education for NCSY), and Rabbi Micah Greenland (international director of NCSY).

“When my brother Ruven was just three weeks old, my mother insisted my father go to an NCSY convention that was scheduled,” said Abby, citing an example of her mother’s selflessness. “My mother also spent many a night proofreading my father’s words. He greatly respected her input and ideas.”

Rabbi Kaplan died from a heart attack at forty-eight years old. It was 1983, and Tobie, who was not yet forty years old, was left with nine children to raise. She soon married Yeshaya Seidenfeld, who took on her children as his own in addition to the three from his previous marriage.

Although in a better financial position at this point, said her daughter, Rochel Eisig, Tobie remained a simple, low-maintenance person who had no interest in anything “gashmiyus.”

“It was my father’s entire library of sefarim that were among her most prized possessions,” said Rochel. “She let people borrow them, but it was extremely important that they be returned.”

“My mother had an encyclopedic knowledge of every sefer in the house, so much so that I once visited and came home to my wife getting a call from my mother, asking if I took a certain sefer she noticed was not in its place,” recounted Micha. “She might not have known how to speak Hebrew, but she imbibed the words anyways. During the Covid-19 pandemic, one of my nephews came to her home to learn every day, just so she could hear him learning and absorb the pages of Gemara.”

Her other most cherished treasures? Her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, each of whom was special and unique in her eyes, said one of her closest friends, Annie Weiss. “Tobie didn’t care about anything as much as her family,” said Annie. “She was always there for them, whatever they needed, through good times and bad, just an excellent and devoted mother and grandmother. It’s just beautiful to see the family she created.”

When Tobie passed away last April at age eighty-two, she left behind over 150 grandchildren and great-grandchildren, all of whom are deeply devoted and observant Jews today.

A new generation of young people are now embracing Rabbi Kaplan’s works, which NCSY reissued in 2021.

“Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan’s capacity to help people find a home within Yiddishkeit and in Jewish life, which was his life’s work, is undoubtedly a testament to the home he and his wife, Tobie, built together,” said Rabbi Dovid Bashevkin, NCSY’s director of education, who spent two years editing the collection of Rabbi Kaplan’s writings.

As Rabbi Kaplan’s legacy continues to live on and inspire people to dive deeper into Judaism, it’s time that people recognize the woman who not only made this legacy possible but who beautifully inhabited the often unseen yet indispensable role of those who stand behind great leaders— not merely supporting their journey but shaping it in the most profound ways.

In 2021, NCSY celebrated Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan’s legacy with the launch of the NCSY Aryeh Kaplan Library, a reissuing of the entire Kaplan opus. Photo: Kruter Photography

THE EDITOR’S VIEW

Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan Jewish Life, Spring 1974

Ed. Note: Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan briefly served as editor of Jewish Life, the precursor to Jewish Action, in 1974. During his tenure, he wrote the following editor’s note, which was published amid the Watergate scandal and the Arab oil embargo. In response to the US’s support for Israel during the war with Egypt and Syria, Arab oil producers halted exports to the US. This resulted in soaring gas prices, long lines at gas stations and a major economic downturn.

Oil, Providence and Israel

If a generation ago, someone would have suggested that the economies of the United States and the great European powers might depend on a Halachic question, he would have been considered mad. Yet, this past winter, this proved to be exactly the case. If size or population were the sole criterion, Israel would be counted as one of the more insignificant nations of the world. As the birthplace of the Bible, it might have stirred some interest, but it would never be the focus of world concern. There is one factor that makes Israel the center of international politics—and that is the fact that it is surrounded by a veritable sea of oil. Since its birth, Israel has been at odds with the Arabs, who control a very large percentage of the world’s oil supply.

Of late, the Arabs have been learning how to use oil diplomacy as a weapon. As a result, any conflict in the Middle East is felt by all the great oil consuming nations, who depend on the Arabs for the bulk of their energy supply. Therefore, any movement that Israel makes vis-a-vis the Arabs has reverberations throughout the industrialized world.

During the past winter, the settlement of the Middle East stalemate, and hence the flow of Arab oil, was

greatly dependent on Golda Meir’s ability to form a viable majority government. One of the major obstacles was the Religious Block (Mafdal), who would not join the government until the question of “Who is a Jew” was cleared up in a manner conforming to Halachah. Until what was basically a Halachic question could be resolved, it seemed that the oil taps would remain shut, and that the great powers would have their thirst for oil unassuaged. Thus, in a sense, the economies of the great industrial powers—for a while at least—were dependent on a question of Halachah.

We often say, “the Torah is the blueprint of the world,” and that “the whole world depends on the Torah.” This is one time when we were actually privileged to see this in practice.

Another teaching closely related to this is that “Eretz Yisroel is the center of the world.” In ancient times, this

was literally the case, since Israel was the only land bridge between the Eurasian and African continents. If one wanted to cross over from Eurasia to Africa by land, the only way to do so was to pass through Israel. In many ways, it was Israel’s geographic position at the crossroads of civilization, that put her in contact with every major culture of the ancient world.

In modem times, this geographic position is no longer that crucial. As if in compensation, another factor has suddenly come to the fore. It is the fact that Israel’s neighbors control the bulk of the world’s oil supply, which guarantees that every great world power will once again take a strong interest in events in that area.

But the more we think about this, the more an important question comes to mind. Why is all this oil found just there? Why did Divine Providence—for this cannot be mere coincidence—place the world’s energy treasures right at Israel’s doorstep? Pondering this question is enough to convince even the skeptic that we are somehow witnessing a drama whose script was written a very long time ago.

The question becomes all the more striking when one realizes that our century—the one in which the State of Israel was re-established—is, and will remain, the one which is the most dependent on oil as a source of its energy. A century ago, coal was the main energy source, while in the century to come, it will most probably be either nuclear or solar energy. It is precisely at the moment that the drama is being played that oil is playing its most important role.

There may be some of William James’ proverbial “tough minded” individuals who will fail to see the hand of G-d in all this, but they will have to be very tough minded indeed.

Frank Wills

Anyone who has ever seriously given any consideration to the tides of history knows of those pivotal events, often unrecorded, upon which the fates of empires and civilizations are decided. It is often a relatively minor decision on the part of an obscure individual that ultimately changes the world for centuries to come.

Egypt, leading to the drama of the Exodus and the birth of the Jewish people. All of this resulted from a relatively “unimportant” decision on the part of a lowly slave.

In the past year, the shape of national—and ultimately world—history, has been shaped largely by a decision of Frank Wills, a security guard at 2600 Virginia Avenue in Washington, D.C. If he had not noticed a piece of tape over a lock, or had neglected to report it, the country today would not be rocked by the national trauma named for the building he guarded: Watergate.

Our sages teach us that every act that an individual does ultimately has reverberations that will affect mankind as a whole. Besides this, who knows which events will be pivotal in shaping world history. Providence has allowed us to be witness to one such pivotal event—the decision of Frank Wills—and the world is trembling at its outcome.

As this is being written, the fate of the Presidency, and ultimately of the United States as a whole, is hanging in the balance. Whatever direction this ultimately takes, the government will remain scarred and disrupted for decades to come, it is a situation unprecedented in modem history, and for this very reason, no one can predict just how cataclysmic its effects will be. And as President Nixon himself has pointed out many times, we are also at a pivotal point in world history—with Europe, Russia, China and the Middle East in the balance—and therefore, the outcome of Watergate and the impeachment trial will have unprecedented effects on the world as a whole.

Much of what happens in the next few decades—and perhaps for a much longer time—will depend on the decisions of one individual—President Nixon himself. At this most fateful time in world history—and ultimately in Jewish history as well—it would be well for us to ponder the verse (Proverbs 21:1), “The king’s heart is in the hands of G-d. . . . He turns it wherever he wills.”

The prime example of this was the Egyptian slave who refused to be seduced by his master’s wife. He was falsely accused of attempted rape and, as a result, imprisoned. In prison, he came in contact with Pharoah’s butler, and thus, Joseph eventually became the prime minister of Egypt, and in this capacity, saved the greatest civilization of the ancient world from being decimated by famine. Closely intertwined with this was the emigration of Jacob and his family to

MY WITH

By Wally Klatch, as told to Nechama Carmel

Wally Klatch is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s and uses his experience to raise awareness about dementia.

Photos: Dana Walker

Two years ago, at the age of sixty-nine, I started having memory problems. I lived in Israel at the time and went to visit the Roman theater in Caesarea. I really enjoyed it and told one of my sons about it.

My son said, “Abba, we were just there a few weeks ago.” I had absolutely no recollection of going to Caesarea. None. Even after my son reminded me of what happened there, I couldn’t recall anything. My memory was wiped out. That’s when I knew my memory issues were not just due to aging. I realized something was very wrong and went to a neurologist.

The neurologist at Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem administered a MoCA test, used to assess cognitive impairment, and an MRI of my brain. After reviewing the results, he diagnosed me with mild cognitive impairment (MCI), an early stage of dementia. Since then, I’ve been diagnosed with Lewy body dementia and Parkinson’s disease. This is the stage where I am now, at the beginning of the journey of Alzheimer’s.

I have gone from being a fairly normal person to one whose life has changed immensely. Within a period of two months I went from rarely hearing “can I help you with that?” to hearing it far too often. I am not able to do things I used to do effortlessly, and the phrase “I need help” comes out of my mouth with increasing frequency.

I think slowly and I don’t absorb things well. If somebody speaks quickly, I can’t keep up. When I go to shul on Shabbat morning, I take a chumash and a siddur like everyone else. But I keep them right next to me and do not open them up, because following along is too difficult. I can no longer listen to the shaliach tzibbur and try to read along at the same time.

A recent sign of my brain’s deterioration is my inability to recognize people—someone might approach me and it’s obvious that we’re well-acquainted from the way he’s speaking to me, but I don’t recognize the person’s face or his name at all.

On occasion as I speak with my neurologist on Zoom, I have no idea it’s him, except for the fact that I see his name on the bottom of the screen.

I am not able to do things I used to do effortlessly, and the phrase ‘I need help’ comes out of my mouth with increasing frequency.

There are things I remember and things I don’t. I can’t distinguish between what kinds of things I will remember and what I won’t. Sometimes I remember something asked of me ten minutes earlier, but I will have no recollection of what happened yesterday. Instead of memory, there is blackness, a void. Nothing.

A very scary moment occurred when I began to talk about one of my sons, and for a few seconds, I couldn’t remember his name. When I finally did recall it, it sounded strange to me—why would I give my son a name like that?

I have four children, thank G-d—three sons and a daughter. I’ve seen enough videos of parents with dementia who don’t recognize their own children sitting right next to them. To think that I might be at the very beginning of that path is deeply frightening.

In November 2023, I moved to Denver, Colorado, to be closer to one of my sons. Currently, I live on my own, but

Wally Klatch’s professional career was as a management consultant for large manufacturing companies. Wally is active in raising public awareness and conversation about dementia including Alzheimer’s, Lewy body and other forms of dementia. He writes a weekly post connecting dementia to each week’s Torah portion.

Nechama Carmel is editor-in-chief of Jewish Action

my son lives close by. Every morning, I enjoy walking in a nearby park or to the botanical gardens, which relaxes me and helps to clear my mind. I also participate in a few Zoom support groups for people with dementia or terminal illnesses, enabling me to connect with others facing similar challenges.

There seem to be plenty of Jewish support groups for caretakers of individuals with dementia, but not many for those living with dementia. It is unfortunate. I’m sure it is needed.

When memory starts to fail, it drags functionality along with it. When am I going to start forgetting things like taking a house key with me when I leave the house? I don’t know. While dementia often brings a gradual decline, it can also cause rapid, unexpected deterioration—and that’s what frightens me. One woman in the support group shared that her husband, who had dementia, was doing well, and then within a month, he completely deteriorated.

And yet, even while I am frightened, I can see the blessings. I can sense my mild cognitive impairment; I feel my brain working less. I’ve always been a thinking

Once I got over the shock of the diagnosis, I came to terms with what was happening to me . . .

person, but as I experience cognitive decline, I feel my heart becoming more expansive. I’ve become more of a feeling person. I’m much more emotional than I ever was. I cry often. When I go to the supermarket, I always hug the security guard. I’ve discovered that I actually like this new self.

Truthfully, people aren’t used to hearing someone talk honestly about dementia and dying. But one of my goals is to start conversations about these difficult and painful topics. At this stage of my illness, it’s early, and I still have time to do things before I reach that dreadful place.

I had to figure out how I want to spend my remaining time. I decided to document my journey with dementia. Every day, I take videos to record how I feel and post them on a website.

I’ve also started speaking at different venues to raise awareness about dementia, including synagogues, libraries and educational centers. I want to learn what guidance Torah sources can offer me as a Jew on this dementia path. At the same time, promoting dementia awareness and conversation gives me a focus and helps keep me motivated and feeling alive. I believe that not being active or having a focus exacerbates dementia in many people. In that sense, dementia is both my problem and my solution.

Once I got over the shock of the diagnosis, I came to terms with what was happening to me: I was heading toward being an immobile, basically non-functional human in what amounts to a long period of dying.

Dementia takes the person away. The person is no longer who they once were.

. . . to think that I might be at the very beginning of that path is deeply frightening.

While these thoughts of dying dominated my mind, slowly another realization appeared: I’m dying and living at the same time.

But as I see it now, living and dying are not two distinct aspects. Dementia makes dying more real and reminds me that all I have is this moment. Everyone is going to die. But since I’m in the process of dying, I’m trying to live more fully and make every moment of my present life that much richer.

IN HALACHAH

By Rabbi Dr. Jason Weiner

As the population ages, researchers anticipate a sharp rise in the number of people living with dementia, with cases expected to double by the year 2060. Dementia can be extremely challenging, affecting not only individuals but also their families, communities and caregivers. It raises a range of emotional, ethical, pastoral and halachic dilemmas.

Thankfully, the Torah provides detailed and wise guidance on all areas of life, offering comfort and direction when facing the challenges associated with dementia. While there are many complex issues with intricate details, this article aims to present a basic overview of some of the key areas and the rabbinic guidance that are essential to consider.

OBLIGATION TO PERFORM MITZVOT

One of the most fundamental issues to address is the obligation to perform mitzvot. The ability to fulfill mitzvot is a profound opportunity to connect with Hashem and maximize one’s spiritual potential. However, when illness progresses, some mitzvot may become an overwhelming burden, confusing or very difficult to perform, rather than a source of enrichment for the individual.

Halachic authorities suggest that in the early stages of dementia, a person remains fully obligated in mitzvot However, as dementia advances, if an individual becomes completely detached from reality, they become patur (exempt). The precise determination of when they become exempt depends on their specific condition. In general, if

the individual seems aware of their surroundings and is able to understand what they are doing, they likely remain obligated in mitzvot, but if not, they become patur. This can fluctuate from time to time depending on their mental state at any given moment. They may even remain obligated in some mitzvot, such as those that they understand, while being exempt from others, such as those that they can no longer comprehend. One should consult with a rabbi to help make this determination on a case-by-case basis.

There may also be considerations related to challenges in maintaining a clean body, inability to physically perform mitzvot, or behavior that distracts others or causes embarrassment.

This exemption from mitzvot should never be seen as a punishment but rather as a compassionate recognition that they should not feel obligated to place themselves in compromising situations.

Once a person is no longer obligated in mitzvot, he should never be forced or pressured to perform them. However, if he chooses to do so, he may perform mitzvot as an aino metzuvah ve’oseh (one who fulfills a commandment despite not being required to do so).

In fact, participating in public mitzvot—such as communal prayer or a Pesach Seder—can be especially beneficial to one suffering from dementia, as studies suggest that social engagement may slow down or reduce some of the effects of dementia. This helps prevent isolation and allows one to maintain his daily routine, which are both important factors that rabbinic authorities take into account.

Rabbi Dr. Jason Weiner, BCC, serves as senior rabbi of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles and rabbi of Knesset Israel Congregation of Beverlywood. He also serves as senior consultant to Ematai, which educates Jewish individuals and families about end-of-life issues.

AVOIDING TRANSGRESSIONS

Although individuals with advanced dementia may no longer be obligated to perform all positive mitzvot, it is still ideal that they avoid transgressing prohibitions, such as eating non-kosher food. One may gently remind the individual of these prohibitions, if necessary. This presents a particular challenge for caregivers, who must balance sensitivity and kindness with ensuring that the individual maintains their values, when possible.

When it comes to taking care of individuals suffering from advanced dementia, just as halachah provides detailed exemptions from obligations—such as allowing leniencies in Shabbat observance based on the severity of an illness—the same principles that apply to physical illness also extend to cognitive impairment. An individual suffering from advanced dementia may be considered in the category of a dangerously ill patient, for whom even Torah prohibitions can be overridden when absolutely necessary to take care of them. One should consult with their rabbi to help determine if and when these leniencies should be applied.

ADVANCE DIRECTIVES AND FAMILY COMMUNICATION

During the early stages of dementia, if a person wants to ensure that their care aligns with their values, goals and preferences, it is highly advisable to:

• Appoint a surrogate decision maker

• Fill out an advance healthcare directive and an ethical will

• Have clear conversations with family members to ensure that everyone is aware of their wishes

These steps help prevent confusion later on, ensuring that one’s values continue to guide their care, even when they can no longer fully express them on their own.

HONORING CAREGIVER’S CHALLENGE

PARENTS:THE

A particularly difficult and common dilemma is the obligation of kibbud av va’eim (honoring one’s parents), especially when caring for a parent with advanced dementia.

As dementia progresses, the needs of the individual can become burdensome and overwhelming for their family. Does honoring one’s parents mean sacrificing everything in order to care for them personally?

The Rambam (Hilchot Mamrim 6:10) addresses this issue, ruling that if caring for a parent becomes too difficult, it is appropriate to hire someone to assist. This ruling is especially relevant today, as specialized facilities and professional caregivers can often provide the ideal care for individuals with dementia. Placing a parent in an appropriate facility—when needed—should not be seen as a failure but rather as a responsible and compassionate decision. There are also certain actions that may need to be taken when caring for individuals with dementia, such as restraints or other necessary interventions. Halachah teaches that, when possible, it is preferable for these actions to be carried out by someone other than the person’s children.

Using hired caregivers may often be in everyone’s best interest, by providing proper medical care, mitigating loneliness and preventing harm to shalom bayit

SAFETY AND ETHICAL CONSIDERATIONS

Another common challenge is when an individual with dementia insists on doing things that pose a danger to themselves or others.

For example:

• Driving a car despite cognitive decline

• Living alone when it is no longer safe

While these situations can be uncomfortable to address, it is often in everyone’s best interest to take necessary steps

to mitigate these risks, even if it goes against the individual’s stated desires.

Similarly, individuals with advanced dementia may forget past tragedies, such as the death of a loved one, and repeatedly ask for them. Reminding them of such losses can cause them repeated grief and trauma. Although truthfulness is a Torah value, there are cases where Jewish law permits deviating from the truth when it is in the best interest of the individual—especially to prevent unnecessary suffering.

DIGNITY AND COMPASSION

Compounding the personal difficulty of experiencing diminishing cognitive faculties, people suffering from dementia may also encounter disrespect that others inadvertently display towards them. Our rabbis were aware of this and cautioned us to “be careful to continue to respect an elder who has forgotten their Torah knowledge due to circumstances beyond their control, as it says: the tablets and the broken tablets were placed in the Ark of the Covenant.” This statement refers to compassion that must be shown to one who is experiencing dementia, and in fact it is stated in Menachot 99a in the name of Rav Yosef. What is fascinating is that we know from Eruvin 10a that Rav Yosef himself suffered from dementia and his colleagues would gently remind him of his great teachings in order to cheer him up. Sometimes, those suffering from advanced dementia may seem to be only a shell of their former selves. The rabbis remind us, however, that they are still holy. They are still tzelem Elokim (made in the image of G-d) and deserve to be treated with the utmost respect and dignity.

Caring for individuals with dementia presents profound halachic, ethical, medical and emotional challenges. Each case requires thoughtful navigation, balancing compassion with halachic principles on a case-by-case basis. The Torah provides guidance and wisdom in these areas, helping us make sensitive and informed decisions in these very challenging situations.

WRITING THE

A Torah View on Facing Mortality

By Rabbi Daniel Rose

Here is a fictional version of an email I recently received.

Dear Rabbi,

I need you to teach me how to pray.

My father has had early-onset dementia for some time. When it began, I knew exactly what to daven for. I was davening for it to be reversed, or at least for it not to deteriorate. I was davening that he would not have to suffer the loss of his memory, let alone the loss of his mind. I was davening that it wouldn’t happen the way the doctors said it would.

But now it has happened. It is clear to all of us that his cognitive function is only getting worse, his need for aides and his inability to care for himself only getting more acute. He is not going to get better.

We are not allowed to pray for miracles. So what is left for me to pray for now?

I write back to this woman about davening for Hashem’s compassion. I tell her that everyone’s experience is different, that the disease can develop more quickly or more slowly. I tell her to daven for all that he is likely to encounter along the way: that his aides should be kind, that his overall health should remain strong, that the ancillary conditions that can accompany this condition should not be too severe. It is all true, and all eminently practical.

But most of all, what I want to tell her is that life does not end with a diagnosis of dementia.

Life changes, often drastically. Dreams and expectations can be shoved to the side. Basic needs to which we had never given much thought can become incredibly time-consuming and deeply emotionally draining. We will have to call on skills that we never called on, and never wanted to call on, before. But there is still life. There is still connection. There is still family and relationship. And there is still tefillah and hope—not hope for a cure, but hope for perspective, for compassion, for appreciation, for joy.

FINDING PURPOSE

When someone receives a diagnosis like early-stage dementia, the shock can easily give way to a feeling of helplessness. The knowledge that what is coming is beyond our control to

Rabbi Daniel Rose is the rabbi of Bnai Jacob Shaarei Zion Congregation in Baltimore, Maryland. He is the former director of Jewish Hospice Services for Seasons Hospice of Maryland and the author of Building Eternity: A New Perspective on the Meaning of Marriage (New York, 2014).

We obsess over the past and fret about the future. We regret what might have been, and we pour our energy into what might be. What we see least easily is today—the growth we can achieve, the choices we can make, the people we can touch and the people who can touch us.

prevent flies in the face of everything we thought we knew about ourselves, our skill and capabilities and independent nature. And spiritually, there can be a similar kind of helplessness. What does Hashem want from me now? Facing the knowledge that my ability is going to be so limited, what does He expect me to do?

A great deal.

When Yaakov was nearing the end of his life, the Torah describes this by saying, “vayikrivu yemei Yisrael lamus—and when the time approached for Yisrael to die” (Genesis 47:29). While the simple sense of the phrase is that Yaakov’s life was coming to a close, the literal translation of the words is that his days were coming close to dying. The Zohar teaches that this literal meaning also has something to teach us. When a person comes before Hashem after death, every single day that he lived comes with him. Each day stands and tells the Heavenly court what this person did on that day, whether he used his time productively, whether he took advantage of the mitzvos that came his way, whether he made the most of the different yamim tovim and the different seasons and the different nuances of each month on the calendar. Each day has its own story to tell about us. It is human nature that we spend much of our energy

thinking about everything except for the day at hand. We obsess over the past and fret about the future. We regret what might have been, and we pour our energy into what might be. What we see least easily is today—the growth we can achieve, the choices we can make, the people we can touch and the people who can touch us. But our Sages are teaching us that today is a terrible thing to waste.

There is much that is cruel about dementia. But there is also, if not a positive feature, at least a shift in perspective that can be refreshing. The joys and simple pleasures of today become the focus of life—out of necessity, yes, but also because we appreciate them in a way we never could before. And there is so much spiritual power in that way of living.

For someone facing a diagnosis like this, what Hashem asks is to start to pay attention to the day at hand. Pay attention to the people in your life, to your family and to your friends. Pay attention to the mitzvos you do. Pay attention to the kindness you can achieve with a simple action and a friendly comment. Pay attention to the daf or to the chapter in front of you, not on how many pages there are until the end. Pay attention to the berachos Hashem has sent you and pay attention to how you thank Him for them.

If there is one mitzvah that models this focus on today, it is tefillah. The sefarim teach us that in the history of the world, there has never been a tefillah repeated. Tefillah is an expression of the way you—the unique person that is you—relate to Hashem in this moment. Every person is different, and every person is constantly changing. The tefillah I say today is an expression of who I am—my ambitions and my dreams and what I am thankful for and what I am striving for. That is not the same today as it was yesterday; it is not the same this afternoon as it was this morning. Tefillah is the mitzvah that gives meaning to our every moment and helps us to see all that is in front of us.

I was once asked to visit a woman who was nearing the end of a long battle with cancer. I did not know her but her family thought I could be helpful, and so I went to see her. She had made her peace with dying. What weighed on her was

her feeling of uselessness. She was cognitively sharp, but her illness prevented her from going out or doing anything that would make her feel productive.

I asked her if she could still smile at people. She allowed that she could. In that case, I said, there is so much you can do. You can make people feel good with a smile and a kind word. You can give them a little more happiness. That is worth a tremendous amount.

She lived for a few more months, though I never saw her again. But at her shivah, her family told me that this mission of smiling at people had given her purpose until her dying day.

There is no sugarcoating the struggles of dementia and its uniquely painful challenges. But if it is going to force us to focus our perspective, there is so much spiritual power in choosing to do that for ourselves. While we are able, we can make sure that each day will come with us proudly.

PREPARING FOR OUR MORTALITY

It is natural for us to want to look away from our own mortality. For someone who is facing dementia, preferring to be in denial is perfectly understandable. Ramban even teaches us that we are averse to thinking about death because death was not supposed to be part of our world; if not for the Eitz Hada’as, we would not have to face it. A part of us senses that this whole process is unnatural.

And yet the Torah tells us in so many ways that we should prepare for our own mortality.

From a purely practical standpoint, there are many preparations which the halachah encourages us to make. One is supposed to prepare a will and put financial affairs in order. The Shulchan Aruch instructs us to tell our heirs the financial information they need to know: the people to whom we owe money or who owe us money, whether we have assumed any financial responsibilities. Updated for our modern world of bank accounts and investments, of digital passwords and information stored on the cloud, there is a lot to be collected so that those who need to know can access the information they need. If a will was written a long time ago, it is worthwhile to review it and update it for present circumstances. It is essential to have a halachic living will in place, which appoints an agent and a rav to collaborate in making health care decisions when that becomes necessary. It is a mitzvah to make one’s own burial arrangements, as Avraham Avinu bought his own kever in the Me’aras Hamachpelah

But spiritual, emotional and mental preparations are just as important.

There is an old tradition to write what is sometimes called an ethical will. A financial will contains the instructions our heirs

have to know about our belongings; an ethical will contains the instructions that our heirs have to know about our values, our spiritual heritage, our understanding of what is meaningful and important. In truth, this is what Yaakov Avinu did when he gave his children berachos before he died, giving them the lessons and identifying the strengths that were unique to each of them. It is what Moshe Rabbeinu did before he left us. It is what Dovid Hamelech and Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai and Rabbi Yehudah Hanasi did before they left this world.

In fairness, the dramatic deathbed scenes we read about in the Torah are not the reality for most people. And writing a formal statement of important principles is not in everyone’s wheelhouse. But there is so much that can be done to share a piece of yourself with those who will want desperately to remember how you were in healthier times.

You can record a video with stories, with memories, with the family history that only you remember. You can talk about your rebbeim and teachers, the people you admired and who shaped you. You can share your favorite divrei Torah. You can even write notes to family members for future occasions. You can give your children and grandchildren and students the gift of yourself.

THE IMPERATIVE FOR TESHUVAH

And then there is the preparation we can do for ourselves. We learn in Pirkei Avos that we should do teshuvah the day before we die. The implication is that one never knows the day of death, so one should do teshuvah all the time. But when mortality becomes a reality, the imperative for teshuvah is clear, and the opportunity it provides is restorative.

Rabbeinu Yonah teaches that reflecting on the day of death is one of the most effective ways to inspire teshuvah. For someone who is actually facing the day of death—even when that day might be years in the future—his teaching needs no commentary. In an instant, goals are clarified and distractions dissipate. To be sure, there can be intense disappointment

about what will not be accomplished and deep regret about opportunities that went unfulfilled, not to mention shame about actions and words that should never have been. But the magic and gift of teshuvah is that what we are today is more important than what we were yesterday. We stand before Hashem as the people we are today, defined by the middos and actions and values that define us now. Teshuvah is not an exercise in despondence; teshuvah is the antidote to helplessness.

And what is perhaps the most difficult aspect of teshuvah can also be the most impactful: the repair we can do to our relationships. Certainly, this requires much wisdom and tact. We are an unforgiving generation, and when years of hurt or mistrust have accumulated, they are not easily erased by a sudden change of attitude or expression of remorse. And yet teshuvah means saying who we really are and who we are not. Acknowledging that we have done wrong is not the last step in healing, but it must always be the first.

And if asking for forgiveness is important, offering forgiveness is just as impactful.

I knew someone who had suffered through a succession of medical challenges without clarity about their cause or trajectory. One day, he received the news that answered all the questions with devastating finality: he had a terminal illness for which there was no cure. He absorbed the news with equanimity. But at the first opportunity, he cleared the room and took out his phone. He needed to make a phone call to a relative with whom he had long had an estranged relationship. He wanted to offer his forgiveness and to ask for forgiveness. He had clearly planned this moment in his head for a long time. And the sense of peace he exuded after he did it was clear as day. Resentments and grudges and disappointments are the emotional blockage of the heart. The opportunity to clear them is a gift.

It is obviously easy to read and write these suggestions in the safe and objective pages of a magazine. Thinking in these

terms, let alone executing them, in the midst of an illness that includes so much uncertainty and confusion and fear is another matter. But it is still true that every stage in life offers its own opportunities for growth. One of the cruelties of dementia is how it gradually forces an independent person to become a deeply dependent one. Teshuvah is the deepest expression of independence. The preparations we can make are our chance to take this stage of life into our own hands.

A rabbi once shared a conversation he had with a congregant who was facing a very challenging diagnosis at a relatively young age. The congregant, a special and spiritual man, wanted to know what spiritual approach to bring to his journey. Should he start preparing for his own potential demise, engaging in teshuvah and preparing to meet his Creator? Or was it more proper to throw himself into bitachon and tefillah, to have complete faith that Hashem can reverse any decree and mobilize spiritual forces to daven for his recovery?

The rabbi told him that he needed to do both. There is much room for bitachon and tefillah and hope. But how could you not want to prepare at the same time? How could you prefer to look the other way until it is too late? He offered an interpretation of the berachah we make before going to sleep: “vehaer einai pen ishan hamaves.” Literally, this means that we ask Hashem to keep the light in our eyes so that sleep does not become death. Homiletically, it can mean that we ask Hashem to keep us aware so that we do not sleep towards our death. Let me not come unprepared to this ultimate journey.

As my email correspondent noted, the mental deprivation of dementia carries an accompanying feeling of spiritual vulnerability. It is a feeling that can overwhelm both patient and caregiver. And yet there is so much that remains in our hands. There is so much opportunity for becoming better people, for coming closer to Hashem and to each other, for letting go of so much unnecessary emotional and spiritual baggage. There is so much that we can do.

The Kaddish said at a burial is the same as the Kaddish said at a siyum because each person’s life is a book. Facing the final chapter of our personal book can be painful and bewildering, and even more so when we feel so powerless. But there is so much we can still do to make it meaningful. And we know that Hashem, who helps us write all the other chapters of our book, will help us write this one too.

WHEN DAD HAS

In the Orthodox Community, Caregivers Often Experience Additional Struggles

By Rachel Schwartzberg

The decision to care for her aging parents in her home came naturally for Rebbetzin Meira Davis, of Hollywood, Florida.

“I was brought up in a multi-generational household,” says Rebbetzin Davis, whose husband, Rabbi Edward Davis, served as the morah d’atra of the Young Israel of Hollywood-Ft. Lauderdale, for thirty-six years. “I think it was easier for me because of this. It was part of my upbringing.”

Rebbetzin Davis’s parents were already living with her family when her father began showing signs of dementia. Together with her husband and children, she cared for him until he passed away in 2015, shortly before his 100th birthday.

“My father lived for eighteen years after the Alzheimer’s was first noticed,” says Rebbetzin Davis. “It was painful to watch his slow decline, but it was hardest when he realized he was losing his memory. He had such frustration and anger. That was hard for him and hard for us.”

Rachel Schwartzberg is a writer and editor who lives with her family in Memphis, Tennessee

More than eleven million Americans care for a family member with a form of dementia. And, according to the Alzheimer’s Association, 70 percent of them feel stressed as a result. In the Orthodox community, however, caregivers often experience additional layers of complexity.

“Dementia is challenging for anyone,” says Adina Segal, senior navigator and community builder with CaringKind, an organization devoted to helping people and families affected by cognitive impairment. “But the Orthodox community definitely has different needs,” which can make it harder to take advantage of programs offered to the general public.

“In many ways, Orthodox caregivers get hit with a double whammy,” she explains. “Dementia progresses and the individual loses the ability to keep track of time. But Jewish life is all about time. There are so many ways this comes up. They think it’s Shabbat, but it’s Tuesday. Or they want to go to Minchah, but it’s really 3:00 am, and they are upset that no one will take them to shul. The family has to prevent the person from leaving the house.”

At the same time, Segal adds, for the caregiver, “there are more reminders of their losses that come with dementia. It’s very common to see, for example, a man no longer remembering the words of Kiddush or other things he’s always done.” Times that used to be special for the family— like Shabbat and yom tov—can become fraught.

Unfortunately, it often happens that a person gets a diagnosis of dementia . . . . Other than a follow-up appointment in six months, families have absolutely no idea what to do.

Recognizing the unique needs of the Orthodox community, CaringKind brought Segal on board in 2019. She and her fellow social worker Shira Kedem provide comprehensive support to the Orthodox community through outreach, partnerships, online support groups and one-onone consultation and coaching for caregivers. Although the organization is based in Manhattan, it serves people from across the US, as well as in Canada and Israel.

HELP WANTED

The Brooklyn-based nonprofit Zicharon also offers online support groups for Orthodox caregivers, attracting between fifty and eighty participants each month.

“When we first started, we hosted a symposium on dementia care and had an expert flown in,” recalls Leah Horowitz, the director. “Hundreds of seats had been set up in the hall, and I

WALKING WITH DEMENTIA

For many Orthodox residents of Hollywood, Florida, the name Rebbetzin Meira Davis is synonymous with kibbud av For years, they would see her walking through the neighborhood with her father, who suffered from dementia, either taking him to or from shul. “She was a real model for the community,” recalls Rabbi Yosef Weinstock, who began serving as assistant rabbi at the Young Israel of Hollywood-Ft. Lauderdale in 2005 and is now senior rabbi. “She tried to normalize [caring for someone with dementia].”

Rebbetzin Davis, he says, “was deeply committed to ensuring that her father, a man who had always been such a regular at shul, was able to continue going.” Each week, she brought him to shul, concerned not only for his physical health but for his emotional and spiritual well being as well. Her unwavering devotion, the rabbi notes, made a profound impact on the community.

Her hands-on approach to caring for a parent with dementia inspired many, adds Rebbetzin Judi Steinig, who traveled to Hollywood often as part of her role as senior director of the OU’s Department of Community Projects & Partnerships.

Rebbetzin Davis viewed it “as a zechut, a true privilege,” to care for her father, says Rebbetzin Steinig, and that was clear to all who witnessed the way she interacted with him. Seeing her walk through the neighborhood with her father, says Rabbi Weinstock, was a constant reminder that sometimes the most challenging mitzvot are also the most ennobling.

walked in and asked if we should perhaps remove some chairs, so it doesn’t look so bad if only a few people show up. In the end, it was packed—standing-room only. People came out because they really needed help.”

Zicharon, which aims at teaching families how to navigate the stresses of caring for a loved one with dementia, was founded by an anonymous benefactor in 2012 who felt there was a real need in the frum community to support caregivers.

The proverbial “Jewish guilt” experienced by caregivers is real and formidable, says Horowitz. “It takes time for people to learn that they cannot be there all the time,” she says. “Dementia is exhausting, and caregivers need a break. People are cracking from the load.”

Moreover, family circumstances can contribute significantly to the difficulty faced by caregivers. “One of the most challenging situations we see is people who are in their forties or fifties, caring for a spouse with early-onset dementia,” she says. “These are families that still have young children at home. That’s terribly hard.” Another difficult scenario she sees is when a parent has remarried, and the spouse and children do not see eye-to-eye. “The family dynamics can become very complicated,” she says.

Rebbetzin Davis considers herself fortunate that her siblings were helpful and appreciative of the care she gave to their father, although none lived nearby.

“I had tremendous support from my siblings,” she says. “One sister is a nurse, and we called her with medical questions. My brother and I handled the finances. My other sister came often to help. It was so empowering.” She highlights how vital it is for siblings to show support and verbalize their appreciation for the person who is shouldering the burden of day-to-day care for a parent. “I had only very positive experiences in that regard,” she says. But as someone who has become an address for frum people caring for a parent with dementia, she adds, “I’ve heard from so many people who don’t.”

For Nachman Kempler, the support of siblings isn’t an option as he cares for his parents, who are in their late eighties and both have dementia. “I am an only child,” he says. Fortunately, his wife has been a pillar of support. “My wife took the initiative to research dementia, finding valuable resources that continue to support us today,” he notes. These include the Alzheimer’s Association and CaringKind.

Kempler is grateful for the circle of helpers who have stepped

up in big ways, especially during the years his parents were still living near him in their Monsey, New York, home, before they moved to an assisted living facility about two years ago. There was the rosh kollel who came daily to encourage his mother to take her medications; his mother’s long-time friend who visited and kept her company while he took his father to medical appointments; the uncle and cousin who remained close and stayed involved; and the rav who made himself available whenever he was needed. “Hashem sent us many people who were of tremendous help,” Kempler says.

Rebbetzin Davis also appreciated how the community was eager to help however they could. “My husband was the rabbi of a big shul,” she notes. “Everyone knew my parents and wanted to help us. I remember one fellow in particular would come by whenever I was away and take my dad and his home health aide out for lunch, or he’d take him to Minchah. There was even one time when he came to take my father to a funeral—but our non-Jewish aide reminded him that my father was a kohen and he couldn’t go!”

In her experience, Rebbetzin Davis says, “In the frum community, it’s ingrained that people try to help.”

Unfortunately, Kempler’s experiences have not always been positive in that regard. “Some people get involved where they don’t belong, but when you need them, they’re not there,” he says. In the early years following his parents’ diagnoses, he reached out for support, “but many people didn’t believe that my parents were experiencing this condition,” he recalls, because they seemed to be functioning reasonably well. “That disbelief was the hardest blow to bear—feeling that I wasn’t being trusted or believed.”

Segal says this is an all-too-common problem. “A big challenge I hear from callers is that people question them,” she says. “Their father is still going to his regular shiur, and when they reach out to the rabbi, he doesn’t understand why they’re saying there’s a problem. He simply doesn’t see it.”

Kempler notes that dementia progresses through stages, and in the earlier stages, “it’s often difficult to notice.” But ultimately, he adds, “No one would fabricate such a thing about their own parents.”

Segal believes that most local Orthodox rabbis are equipped to answer questions that pertain to caring for a loved one with dementia—an important fact, given that “there are so many halachic questions that come up.” For example, Segal often

Dementia progresses and the individual loses the ability to keep track of time. But Jewish life is all about time. . . . They think it’s Shabbat, but it’s Tuesday. Or they want to go to Minchah, but it’s really 3:00 am . . .

A NEW RESOURCE

Recognizing that dementia is a growing concern for many, the OU’s Stimulating Program Initiative for Retirees that Inspires Thought (SPIRIT), which provides resources to those sixty and older, began offering seminars for both caregivers and those affected by the disease. “This issue affects so many older adults, either as patients or as caregivers,” says Rebbetzin Judi Steinig, senior director of the OU’s Department of Community Projects & Partnerships and the coordinator and host of SPIRIT.

Around 10,000 retirees worldwide have tuned in to SPIRIT, which offers interactive Zoom sessions on a range of educational and Torah-based topics. Among the offerings focused on dementia, SPIRIT provides courses with cuttingedge strategies to improve the quality of life for both caregivers and patients, including sessions such as “The Montessori Approach to Dementia Care” and “Self-Care for the Caregiver.” For more information, visit https://www.ou.org/spirit/.

hears about issues that arise when there’s a non-Jewish home health aide preparing or serving food. “A question that comes up in many ways is when the person [with dementia] isn’t cognizant of time, how much does one have to push?” she says. This can relate to Shabbat and yamim tovim, or to eating or not eating certain foods at certain times, for instance.

Segal often finds that families struggle to ask the right questions—which ends up being a much larger challenge than finding a rav who can answer them. “Siblings have different perspectives [on their parent’s situation], so they ask and get different answers,” she says. “How much is each relative accepting and coming to terms with what’s happening? This impacts halachic questions, as well as financial planning, medical questions and making other arrangements, too.” In her role, Segal regularly helps families navigate these types of scenarios, where not everyone is on the same page.

While there is more awareness than there used to be, dementia is still highly stigmatized, Segal says. “Families might notice for years that something’s wrong, but they shove it under the rug until it can’t be hidden anymore.”

Horowitz notes that in so many families she works with, “a spouse will cover up for their spouse. When the kids come to visit, everyone is at their best. The spouse is dealing with crises at 2:00 am, but the children see a different picture entirely. They don’t know what’s really going on.” In the frum community, she says “we very much want to make believe there’s nothing wrong.”

In the beginning, Horowitz thought that stigma would prevent people from reaching out to Zicharon for help, even confidentially. “I never thought this organization would take off,” she says. “But it did because the need is huge. And over the years we’ve definitely come a long way.”

BETTER OUTCOMES

“Unfortunately, it often happens that a person gets a diagnosis of dementia and, maybe, a prescription,” Segal says. “Other than a follow-up appointment in six months, families have absolutely no idea what to do. People should be proactive in learning, reaching out to professionals and social workers because the better care their loved one receives, the better outcomes . . . even if there is no cure.”

In the early stages, Segal says, family members can do more to advocate to make sure documentation is in place, like a halachic living will, a healthcare proxy and power of attorney. “Ideally all adults should have these things in order,” Segal notes. “But it’s when these documents aren’t in place that we see drama in families.” At the end of the day, she says, “It’s incredibly hard for family members to deal with all the feelings that come about with this reality. But when people process their emotions and accept the situation, both the person and the family end up much better off.”

Horowitz adds that there are skills and tools that can be learned that can make caregiving less overwhelming—like how to avoid arguing (“You’ll always lose and everyone will be upset”) and what topics of conversations and activities can foster pleasant interactions. And she shares ideas and recommendations with caregivers, ranging from the importance of good nutrition to online Torah learning resources that can engage someone with dementia.

It’s been ten years since Rebbetzin Davis’s father passed away, but having experienced dementia up close, she makes sure to visit people in her community who have dementia. She also receives occasional calls from caregivers looking for words of chizuk and advice. “I tell people, ‘You have to work on yourself so hard, to have no expectations.’ It isn’t easy at all,” she says. “But above all, I remind people they have to care for themselves as well.”

Almost two years after October 7, these women are continuing to advocate for Israel and the Jewish people—writing, speaking, standing strong and making sure the world listens.

FTHE PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD

ay does not want to give her last name, because she has made a lot of enemies.

A businesswoman–turned–Israel advocate in the aftermath of October 7, Fay is the behind-the-scenes powerhouse driving thousands of email campaigns that condemn antisemitic professors, doctors and other professionals, expose individuals who tear down posters of hostages, and praise political figures and others who stand with Israel and the Jewish people, among many other causes. Her ever-growing WhatsApp group, Pens for Swords (Swords refers to the Swords of Iron War), has a clear mission: to fight for Israel, combat antisemitism and advocate for the hostages. As she put it in a recent online interview, “Everyone has a gift in life. My gift is having a big mouth, and I’m using it.”

Shortly after October 7, Fay, deeply moved by the plight of the hostages, saw a video on Instagram of a professor tearing down a poster of a hostage. Appalled, Fay wrote a strongly worded letter to the university once the professor was identified, and sent it to friends and family, who kept sharing the letter. From that moment, Fay—who runs a makeup store in New York’s Five Towns—became unstoppable. She began posting more and more letters. Her following grew. Soon she began sending letters to politicians, including New York Senator Chuck Schumer and New York City Mayor Eric Adams, to deans of schools and to city council and school district officials. As her letter-writing consumed her, she began neglecting her business. She wrote to the Red Cross for not visiting the hostages in Gaza, to companies unwittingly selling T-shirts and other merchandise with antisemitic slogans, and to universities offering “academic dishonesty,” such as Harvard’s course titled “Palestine: 1,000 Years.”

others doing similar work. “I’m the hub,” Fay says. “Other groups take my material and send it out to their members. I have a guy in Belgium who has a database with every European leader—mayors, politicians, ambassadors and so on.” Many celebrities and pro-Israel Christian groups have joined her campaigns.

“People are so happy to do this,” said Fay. “This makes them feel empowered in a world where they feel so helpless right now.”

Fay’s followers have come to trust her meticulously researched letters, so they simply click, sign, send and share. Indeed, Fay claims it takes “less than ten minutes” for followers to sign and send each day’s letters.

Not surprisingly, Fay’s efforts have borne fruit. How could they not? As one official told her, “When you get 6,000 emails in your inbox, you definitely pay attention to what these people are saying.”

Fay shared her letters on Instagram, with a link to a petition site. As her following mushroomed, she switched

As a result of her advocacy, certain pro-Hamas events were canceled and various city council BDS resolutions were defeated. Pressure from her groups led Shopify to remove Kanye West’s sale of swastika T-shirts. Ms. Rachel, a YouTuber famous for creating educational content for children, had previously only spoken about the losses among Palestinians. But after pressure from Pens for Swords, she posted about the Bibas family, a”h.

When a staff member from Mayor Adams’s office was filmed tearing down posters of the Israeli hostages and knocking her challenger’s phone out of her hand, Fay’s group flooded the mayor’s office with emails. The woman was subsequently fired (ironically, her job description included “bridging cultural divides” and “celebrating the rich diversity of New York City”). Other wins include Nassau County passing a mask ban and JetBlue issuing a public apology regarding its in-flight map, where much of Israel was labeled “Palestinian territories.” The airline also fired the third-party company responsible for providing the map.

Every Friday, Fay posts the week’s “wins.” “It makes everyone feel powerful,” says Fay’s close friend Debbie Rochlin. “She’ll also write gratitude posts to people who helped her.”

In one post, Fay urges everyone to “thank Congressman Ritchie Torres for his consistent support” (so many calls and messages came through, Fay was forced to ask everyone to stop as it was overwhelming the staff!).

Noting that the pro-Hamas propaganda machine is both strategic and well-organized, Fay believes they were prepared well before October 7. For example, she points out how pro-Hamas supporters often swarm city council meetings in small, unsuspecting towns across the US— places where council members would be hard-pressed to locate Gaza on a map. They begin pressuring the councils to vote in favor of anti-Israel resolutions and to encourage boycotts of Israeli products in local stores. Once these resolutions are passed, they are sent up the political chain, allowing pro-Hamas advocates to claim, “Look how many cities support divestment from Israel!” To counter the proHamas activists, Fay’s group crafts well-researched letters aimed at educating council members about the reality of the situation in the Middle East.

How did an ordinary grandmother become a formidable Israel activist? Fay says she has always enjoyed writing. She discovered the power of writing letters as a child when she opened a pack of gum to find only four sticks instead of the promised five. “I wrote to the company, and they sent me back a coupon for a new pack,” she says.

In elementary school, she wrote letters on behalf of former Soviet Prisoner of Zion Natan Sharansky, and after Jonathan Pollard was incarcerated, she wrote him a letter every day until he was released. “I was always very Zionistic,” she says.

After seeing the number of young people who attended the mass Israel rally in November of 2023, Fay founded Students for Jewish Advocacy, where she works with parents and administrators from over ninety-five Jewish day schools and college groups. She asks them to choose three letters each week to share with the students and have them sign and send. Aside from wanting their voices added, she believes it’s critical that students learn about advocacy and the importance of making their voices heard.

“Fay will ask schools to take five or ten minutes a day to send out letters or signatures,” says Aliza Bixon, a friend and business associate who is also the rebbetzin of Beth Israel Congregation in Miami Beach. “It grows into hundreds of thousands of signatures, and it really does move the needle. You feel her passion for her cause and the pain she feels for the hostages and others affected by the war.”

“Fay begins her posts every day with a dedication to someone, usually a hostage,” says Rochlin.

Pens for Swords has taken over Fay’s life. “I haven’t exercised or read a book in months,” she says. She can’t take a break for long, because if she does, she finds herself with fifty WhatsApp messages that require responses.

“Fay has a full-time job, children and grandchildren, and yet she’s working on this night and day,” Rochlin says. “But she always had a lot of energy and simchat hachayim, and a need to be productive. She’s an inspiration!”

Fay says it’s the plight of the hostages that keeps her going. “If they all come home, maybe I’ll stop,” she says.

“What keeps my mood up is the tremendous unity I see in Klal Yisrael,” she says. “There are so many nonreligious Jews who have come forth! I’ve learned that there are so many people who care about Israel, and that keeps me inspired.”

When you get 6,000 emails in your inbox, you definitely pay attention to what these people are saying.

FIGHTING THE GOOD FIGHT

KASSY AKIVA

By Sandy Eller

Kassy Akiva has been fighting antisemitism for years. Ironically, for the vast majority of that time, she wasn’t even Jewish.

Currently an investigative reporter for The Daily Wire, Akiva is smart, articulate and not easily intimidated. Her resume is long and impressive—especially for someone who has yet to hit thirty years old—and includes stints at Fox News, Jewish News Syndicate (JNS), and former Governor of South Carolina Nikki Haley’s Stand for America political action committee. Starting from her college days, Akiva espoused political views that made her a magnet for antisemites who threatened and harassed her, thinking she was Jewish even though she wasn’t. But instead of backing down, Akiva couldn’t help but wonder what drove people to have so much hatred for Jews and Israel, her quest for the truth laying the groundwork for major life changes that were yet to unfold.

JOURNEY TO JUDAISM

Born Kassy Dillon, Akiva grew up in a single-parent household devoid of both religion and stability in Chicopee, Massachusetts, a city located roughly ninety miles southwest of Boston. As a young girl, Akiva had her political views shaped by her conservative-leaning grandfather, setting the stage for an eventful university experience as she found herself as one of only two Republican students at Mount Holyoke College. The fact that she was clearly in the minority mattered not at all to Akiva, whose professors made clear their hatred for both Republicans and Israel. The shared ideologies between those two entities had Akiva growing interested in learning more about the Jewish State, and she jumped at the opportunity to take part in a 2016 trip to Israel for

politically inclined non-Jewish college students. Little did she know that that trip, her first time ever outside the United States, would also be the first step in her journey to Judaism.

“I had never even met an Orthodox Jew until that trip, but I fell in love with Israel,” recalled Akiva. “I came back a year later and studied at the University of Haifa. I was already learning Arabic and I started learning Hebrew as well.”

Akiva continued returning to Israel whenever possible, exploring both Christianity and Judaism as she contemplated the possibility of introducing religion into her life. It didn’t take long for Judaism to ring true for Akiva, and after spending a considerable amount of time studying on her own, she began the long conversion process with the Boston Beit Din. One of the first questions she faced from Rabbi Joseph Polak, a Holocaust survivor who heads the Boston Beit Din, was whether she was prepared to face antisemitism. Saying that she had already been dealing with that reality for years, Akiva told Rabbi Polak about an emailed death threat she had received.

Akiva chose the name Devorah Rut when her conversion was finally approved just before Purim of 2023. Announcing the fact that she was now officially Jewish triggered a fresh wave of hatred on social media. Akiva shrugged off the negativity in her inimitable way, even when neo-Nazi trolls digitally transformed her fiancé Isaac into a swastika in their September 2023 engagement picture.

“I actually thought it was hilarious,” recalled Akiva. “What makes someone take time out of their day to photoshop my engagement photo?”

As someone who had grown up without religion and hadn’t previously been openly Jewish, Isaac found the situation to be anything but amusing, demonstrating to Akiva that many Jews, including those who live in the secular world, had never experienced open antisemitism.

Sandy Eller is a freelance writer who writes for print and web media outlets, as well as private clients.

Kassy Akiva, currently an investigative reporter for The Daily Wire, is a formidable presence in both news reporting and social media. Photos courtesy of Kassy Akiva

A reporter covering breaking news, Akiva is no stranger to war zones.

The pure hatred that unfurled in waves in the wake of October 7 was incredibly difficult for that demographic, and Akiva remembers many members of the tribe turning to her for help.

After October 7, I had Jews who had been Jews their whole lives asking me how to deal with antisemitism, when I had been Jewish for all of six months.

“After October 7, I had Jews who had been Jews their whole lives asking me how to deal with antisemitism, when I had been Jewish for all of six months,” said Akiva.

FROM THE FRONT LINES

October 7 proved to be a turning point in Akiva’s life. As a reporter covering breaking and original stories, she was no stranger to war zones and had submitted live reports from Ukraine, Iraq and Israel. Akiva was ready to pack her bags and head to Tel Aviv, but Fox News—her employer at the time—had other ideas, instructing her instead to interview survivors of the brutal massacre and then to cover the unfolding protests at local college campuses.

“They wanted to send me to Harvard and to MIT to watch the crazies there,” said Akiva, who is known for her hard-hitting and unapologetic coverage. “I wanted to be in Israel, so I quit. I signed my papers to go back to The Daily Wire on my way to Israel.”

The situation in Israel was still very fresh when Akiva landed in Tel Aviv two weeks after October 7, and she

headed straight to the Gaza border. At the time, only members of the military and journalists were being allowed into the area. “I saw the debris there,” said Akiva. “We saw cars everywhere. Even two weeks later, they were still finding people and that was why I was there covering it. And the reason I needed to get there ASAP was because I knew that people were going to start denying what happened.”

Akiva began making mini documentaries, showing what had taken place at the Nova site and Kfar Aza, interviewing IDF soldiers and showing rockets coming in with alarming frequency. She was among a group of reporters who were allowed into Sderot, where they sat on a hill watching Gaza being bombed, and she did so many interviews that by the time she returned home to Boston, she had hours of footage to sort through. With the situation in colleges deteriorating rapidly, she had dozens of October 7–related stories appearing on The Daily Wire, and her X feed, where she shares links to her stories, was inundated with hate messages.

The fact that she is the target of so much negative attention doesn’t seem to faze Akiva, who says her family just hopes that she stays safe. Her paternal grandfather, Gary Dillon, who Akiva describes as “her favorite person in the world,” takes things a step further when it comes to her protection.

“Every time something in my life happens, like I graduate or get married, he sends me a gun,” said Akiva, who has a gun license and, thanks to her grandfather’s largesse, owns multiple firearms.

SOCIAL STUDIES

Akiva is a formidable presence on X, where she has amassed over 220,000 followers. In addition to sharing her Daily Wire reports on the platform, Akiva uses it to create content that will amplify stories of antisemitism that might otherwise go unnoticed, and to hold community leaders and elected officials accountable. She also seizes the opportunity to call out haters, sharing their antisemitic missives publicly, and she clearly enjoys trolling her trolls.

Akiva jumped on a post by Kanye West that read “Jewish wives run over their husbands. What does the Torah have to say about that?” with her signature sense of humor. Her response, written in Hebrew, quoted Hashem’s directive to Avraham to do everything his wife Sara tells him to do. And taking a direct shot at the person who photoshopped her engagement photo, Akiva replied by saying, “Each time you tweet something antisemitic, I’m just going to plan to have another Jewish baby.”

In addition to giving training sessions to students on combatting antisemitism on social media, Akiva has a network of college students who alert her to hateful actions when they see them, giving her the ability to publicly out those who cross the line.

Students at Harvard are not allowed to take videos of other Harvard members and expose their identity, but I’m not a Harvard student, so I am able to go and post about who it was.

“A lot of these students are afraid to put their names out there, so they send me videos and I’ll go and post it,” explained Akiva. “Students at Harvard are not allowed to take videos of other Harvard members and expose their identity, but I’m not a Harvard student, so I am able to go and post about who it was.”

As a journalist, Akiva believes it is her job to keep people informed so that they can draw their own conclusions, a role she sees as being very different than that of an influencer. She uses her voice and her following to fight antisemitism, and she is a big believer that every Jew can make a difference, even if they don’t have the stomach for the kind of work that she does. But most importantly, Akiva is adamant that Jews need to stop hiding in the shadows in the face of antisemitism.

“The Jewish people have a problem of trying to make other people like them, and that comes off as inauthentic,” said Akiva. “What Jewish people need to do is just be proud to be Jewish; that is what brings light to the world and makes Jews safer.”

GETTING TO THE ROOT OF THE STORY

MEIRA K.

By Merri Ukraincik

When the October 7 massacre was first reported, twenty-six-year-old Meira K.—then on her honeymoon in Thailand—was desperate to know “what was really happening in Israel.” But she found straightforward news in English hard to find.

Stranded as she and her husband awaited a flight home, the self-proclaimed “politics and strategy nerd” weeded through the overloaded news in Hebrew to cull daily updates that would become her personal war diary. She began to share them with an audience of hundreds of family members and friends on her Instagram account @theofficialmeira, including only those stories she could verify.

By October 9, her page had nearly 10,000 followers. Today, more than 53,000-plus followers from around the world turn to her as their source for Israel news.

“It was a total accident. I was just trying to keep my close friends updated. But it quickly became more than that. It turns out I have a knack for simplifying complicated stories in a way that empowers people to understand the topic and think for themselves. That’s why things really took off.”

Meira, who made aliyah with her family from England to Jerusalem, grew up within the Chareidi system. She worked for several Jewish educational organizations, like Justifi.org and Unpacked Media, before studying politics and communications in college. After graduation, she started working in political and communications strategy.

While Meira’s demographic is mostly eighteen- to fortyfive-year-olds, people of all ages are drawn to her because she’s earnest and authentic, smart and sassy, staunchly Zionist and heartfelt. Also, because her posts are concise: either short videos recorded in her easy, conversational style (sometimes from a bomb shelter) or written in plain white text against a navy background. The latter are her signature “bite-size posts,” as Bluma, an Israeli-based follower calls them.

The whole Jewish people mourns tonight. Shiri, Ariel, Kfir. I’m so sorry.

Oh look, H@mas are stalling the deal again. If you do stand with Israel publicly, can I just say thank you? You keep us going.

Iran has ballistic missiles but we have G-d.

In the current anxiety-inducing zeitgeist, Meira’s magnetism is as much about what she does not share.

The triggering videos and bombastic headlines that are often the standard on both left- and right-leaning traditional media outlets as well as many social media platforms can make it hard for viewers to stomach the news—or to tell truth from rumors. Word got around: If you don’t want to be overexposed to that kind of imagery or clickbait, follow Meira.

“She is refreshingly candid,” says Esther, a follower from Paris and Jerusalem. “Her page is a place to trust and a reality check in the midst of overwhelming data.”

Bini Dachs, assistant director of Bnei Akiva of the US and Canada, agrees. “That’s how Meira has kept a lot of us going during the war.”

Dachs, a @meirakofficial follower from the early days after October 7, says, “I’m steeped in content about Israel and travel there often. Still, I rely on Meira’s talking points

Merri Ukraincik has written for Tablet, the Lehrhaus, the Forward and other publications, including Jewish Action. She is the author of a book on the history of the Joint Distribution Committee.

Meira K. breaks down the week’s top news headlines, providing a thorough analysis of both positions on an issue. Photos: Dani Sarusi

about current events and deep dives into complicated topics, like the different Muslim sects or Israel’s parliamentary government.”

The two women became friends when Meira traveled to the US on a speaking tour in 2024. Dachs put together an event in the Five Towns on Long Island close to Pesach, when everyone was busy and there were numerous other programs taking place. “We filled the house with eightyfive fan-girling women anyway. No one wanted her to stop talking and they didn’t want to leave.”

Back in Israel, Meira continued to expand her content to include more than the news. “There’s a lot of G-d in my posts, too, and other things I’m passionate about, like living an unapologetically Jewish life.” For example, she discusses marriage and mikveh, but only after consulting her parents, who are leading educators in the kiruv world.

Self-assured, she has never shied away from being frank about her own emotions while reporting, ultimately capturing what so many others are feeling. She will stop what she is talking about to say, “There’s too much going on for Am Yisrael today. I’m sad. Let’s get back to the news tomorrow.”

As her platform grew into a full-time job on top of her real full-time job as a communications strategist, it became increasingly challenging for Meira to manage everything on her plate. Guidance from her husband, a health coach and her parents mostly kept her from feeling overwhelmed.

“Together, they helped me navigate—and by extension, helped me help others navigate—how to not collapse beneath the heavy weight of what’s happening to Jews around the world and in Israel. It’s a difficult time for all of us emotionally. I ask myself: What challenges are others dealing with that resonate with me and how can I use my voice to make it easier? That’s my guiding star.”

On his popular Jewish advocacy media project, “I’m That Jew,” Eitan Chitayat called Meira “That Always Keeping You Updated Jew” with good reason. Eventually, though, continuing the daily updates became too much.

Bini Dachs remembers, “Her followers love her for giving them a direct line to what’s happening in Israel. So we missed her when she took a much-needed break.”

In November 2024, Meira’s husband had already been away for months, serving as a commander in Shlav Bet, an IDF recruitment track for religious Jews over the age of twenty-six. She was struggling physically during her pregnancy, which she shared on Instagram. When she announced a hiatus, her followers responded by offering to throw her a baby shower.

“A party during the war felt strange,” she recalls, “but I realized that if I needed that kind of support, others likely felt the same. That’s how the idea for the Our Jewish Revenge collective baby shower was born.” She saw it as an opportunity to push back against antisemitism and antiIsrael sentiment by celebrating women who are bringing more Jewish babies into the world.

The event Meira organized for forty first-time moms hit all the right notes, providing guided support from a

I have a knack for simplifying complicated stories in a way that empowers people to understand the topic and think for themselves.

trauma therapist as well as hundreds of donated gifts. “We were all coping with the loneliness and worry of going through pregnancy while our husbands were out there serving. We had a great time, but we also understood one another.”

While she does not consider herself an influencer, Meira will use her platform to promote causes she believes in, like the Our Jewish Revenge shower. “I’m careful to share only what I’ve verified and love, things that align with my values. I’m sent things to promote all the time, but rarely say yes, although gifts are 100 percent my love language.”

“It would be easier if I could accept all the offers that come my way because it’s hard to monetize my page if I keep rejecting them,” she notes. “But if we can leverage the page to do good, I feel it’s my obligation to. Hashem gave me this gift, and I want to use it properly.”

For example, she opened up about her hair covering journey, something she struggles with. “I wanted to be authentic about it online. I never imagined it would inspire others to start covering their hair.” She also offered a giveaway to followers who brought in Shabbat early in the merit of the hostages’ return.

During maternity leave, Meira took the opportunity to think about how she wants to sustain her platform past this critical moment in Jewish history. The intensity of sharing carefully vetted posts for hundreds of days straight put unhealthy demands on her marriage, her family and herself.

She hired Arella Shebson as an executive assistant and business manager in September 2024, acknowledging she could no longer do it alone. Like Meira, Arella made aliyah as a child with her family from England.

“Meira has identified a niche problem: the news as we know it is not good for the people consuming it,” says Arella. “She’s found a better way, getting to the root of a story without the usual distractions.”

One of the items on her agenda is to bring more of G-d into the news, like in her post following the death of Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi in a helicopter crash

last year. Confirmed: the G-d of Israel has eliminated the president of Iran. She points out that many Jewish news outlets, even Orthodox ones, do not view current events through that lens, even though we see Him in every other aspect of our daily lives.

Today, Meira has multiple projects in the works, including a book. She has also returned to her roots on Instagram, sharing easy-to-understand, daily news highlights to keep her audience informed.

Yet, she observes, “A lot of us, followers and creators, are burnt out. I now need to figure out how to maintain my platform for the long-term.” Among the changes she has implemented towards that end are rebranding, now going by Meira K and @meirakofficial instead of her old handle, @theofficialmeira.

“I’ve always wanted to be just Meira, but the domain was taken. I’m actually a shy, private person, so I’m happier with my online persona being separate from our family name.”

Another major shift in how she shares content is her new half-hour podcast on the Jewish News Syndicate, The Meira K Show. It suits her perfectly because she “loves talking about the more complicated stories in the news and giving people the context and information to hold their own conversations about big issues. We release on Monday, so you can listen on your commute to work.”

She breaks down the week’s top news headlines, providing a centrist and thorough analysis of both positions on an issue. “It’s the show I wished existed before.

I want to empower—not polarize—listeners, enabling them to come to their own conclusions. The news is hard, but we can’t step back from it entirely. People can learn everything they need to know once a week on the podcast. This is a more mindful, mentally healthy way to engage.”

With pride, Arella states that “Meira always has new ideas, new plans for collaborations that will better our world.”

Recognizing her impact, Israeli President Isaac Herzog selected Meira as a Voice of the People, a recent initiative that brought together 150 public figures from six continents to discuss how to make positive change for the Jewish future. True to form, Meira arrived with her infant daughter in tow.

She takes her commitments seriously—to her platforms and followers, to being wife and mother, to her Judaism. It’s not easy, but she works hard to keep things balanced while staying true to herself and what she believes in.

“Each one of us has a role to play in fixing the world, if only we would tap into our own kochot,” she stresses.

She suggests, “Figure out what you’re passionate about. Ask yourself, ‘What bothers me? What do I want to change?’ Then set small goals to make it happen. They add up. Not everything we do has to be big and bold.”

“And don’t rush it. Time, when G-d gives it to us, is our best friend. It can make all the difference.”

ADVOCACY ON A HIGHER LEVEL TZIRI PREIS

By Barbara Bensoussan

How do you help children process and respond to October 7? Right after the attack, this question weighed heavily on Tziri Preis, a thirty-something-year-old former classroom “morah” and host of a lively podcast for children, with thousands of listeners around the world. “Our kids saw us [parents] crying and upset,” Preis recalls. “People were rushing to psychologists to figure out how to explain October 7 to their kids! I thought, ‘I have thousands of kids on my podcast. We need to help these kids with their feelings!’”

So on October 9, 2023, when many Jewish children in the States were off from school for isru chag, Preis, host of the wildly popular Inkredible Kids podcast, led a midday Zoom call with a few hundred families on her email list. The call included the recitation of Tehillim along with an interview with Preis’s young Israeli cousins who were in their ma’amad (safe room). The kids told their peers in America, “We’re scared, but we’re praying. We have a sefer Torah with us, and we know Hashem protects us.”

That call marked the beginning of what Preis, based in Baltimore, Maryland, would later refer to as “the Tehillim Army.” She began leading ten-minute Zoom calls nightly for kids to read Tehillim. She told the children that Tehillim was their weapon in this war.

The Tehillim Army grew organically, peaking that November. Zoom allows up to 1,000 participants, so Preis had to open a live stream on her website TehillimArmy.org to handle her 5,000 to 10,000 participants each night.

To liven up the shows, Preis would invite guests, including entertainment figures such as Moshe Tischler or Simcha Leiner, who would sing a few songs before the children would read Tehillim. Leiner, who is a music producer and is well connected in the Jewish music industry, helped her recruit other entertainers.

“Tehillim Army” sefer Tehillim with a camouflage cover.

Preis’s next step was to bring thousands of children together in person. She organized a massive event at the United Palace Theater in Manhattan, selling out three and a half thousand seats and drawing an equal number of participants via livestream. Yaakov Shwekey, Joey Newcomb and Lipa Schmeltzer performed for the children and joined them in reading Tehillim. “I took my kids,” says Preis’s friend Avigayil Marx. “It was a packed house, with three adorable little boys reading Tehillim onstage and videos of families sharing how the Tehillim Army had impacted them and their families.”

Ten minutes of Zoom soon turned into twenty, then thirty. At one point, Preis began offering prizes and raffles. Soon enough, ArtScroll and other companies were calling to offer merchandise. ArtScroll even printed a special

Preis always makes sure to warn her “soldiers” in the Tehillim Army that “we’re not always able to see the direct effects of our tefillot.” But there was one instance in which the impact seemed so clear that she found herself “shaking like a leaf.”

On a February evening in 2024, her guest on the Tehillim Army Zoom was a soldier in northern Israel who had stayed up until 1:00 am to be interviewed on the podcast. He sang with the children and spoke about how much their tefillot meant to him. “We were going overtime, but he was so emotional that I just couldn’t cut him off,” Preis says.

Barbara Bensoussan is a writer in Brooklyn and a frequent contributor to Jewish Action.

“Morah Tziri” hosts the wildly popular Inkredible Kids podcast and leads the Tehillim Army, with 10,000 kids reading Tehillim together. Photos: Dina Brookmyer

When it was time for Tehillim, Moshe Chaim, a young boy from California, led everyone in reciting chapter 20. Preis told the children that one verse, “eleh varechev ve’eleh vasusim va’anachnu beshem Hashem Elokeinu nazkir some rely on chariots and some on horses, but we call on the name of Hashem, our G-d,” is so important that they ought to scream it out loud. “Can you do that, Moshe Chaim?” she asked.

Moshe Chaim cupped his hands around his mouth and belted out that verse like a pro, with the other children following suit.

The next morning, Preis woke up to a barrage of thousands of phone messages. “Did you hear what happened?” they said.

The news was reporting that the heroic Israeli operation to rescue hostages Luis Har and Fernando Marman in Rafah had been successful. Some parents whose children participate in Inkredible Kids were claiming it was the children’s prayers that led to the phenomenal miracle. Preis didn’t make the connection until she realized that the rescue happened at 1:49 am, Israel time. That’s 6:49 pm EST—the moment that thousands of children were praying for Israel. At exactly 1:49, the Israeli soldiers had the hostages in hand.

“I started getting calls from all the Jewish media,” Preis says. “The kids got so much chizuk from hearing this story!”

THE BEGINNING

How did Morah Tziri become the equivalent of a frum female “Mr. Rogers” for thousands of kids?

After a decade of working as a kindergarten morah, Preis realized she was ready for something new. She spent some time at home raising her four children when it dawned on her: there was a dearth of kosher entertainment for frum children. Preis was looking for high-quality, educational entertainment, like a podcast with interview-style conversations geared for kids. “I started to get this bug in my head to do something. I couldn’t find an appropriate podcast for my kids, not in the secular world or the Jewish world.” She had learned the value of technology during Covid-19, when she created “the most fun Covid classroom” for her students. Her Shabbat parties were so lively that whole families would join in. “Tziri made her classes interactive even over Zoom,” says Avigayil, whose daughter was in Preis’s class that year. Once Preis created Inkredible Kids, “it spread by word of mouth, and she transferred her Zoom skills from teaching twenty-three kids to thousands of kids,” Avigayil says.

The podcast was launched in February of 2023, and Preis began releasing shows every two weeks. Preis hosted the show at her dining room table in the beginning (she now has a studio in her basement). She put in countless hours planning, producing and editing, even adding sound effects to keep interest high. Children—and their parents!—loved Morah Tziri’s podcasts, and she quickly amassed a following from all over the world—the US, Canada, the UK, Australia, Brazil, Holland and so many other countries. “She gives kids a listening ear, and they feel so close and connected to her,” says Yosef F., who helps produce her podcasts and videos. Creating child-centered, authentic content that is both fun and relatable is Preis’s winning formula. At one point, she devoted a show to the topic of why some children have a hard time sitting still during class. “Let’s meet kids who can’t sit still,” she said, opening the program. She then asked her interviewees pointed questions: “How does it feel to have a hard time sitting? How do you handle it? What are some tips?” A big believer in being honest and upfront with kids, Preis addresses challenges ranging from ADHD to dyslexia to having trouble falling asleep. Sometimes she brings in “experts,” but only those who can speak directly and

Once Preis created Inkredible Kids, it spread by word of mouth, and she transferred her Zoom skills from teaching twenty-three kids to thousands of kids.

Preis holding the “Tehillim Army” sefer, specially produced for listeners of her podcast.

effectively to children. “There’s a way to discuss every topic,” she says. “Kids overhear discussions about things like war or divorce, and I’d rather give them accurate information so they don’t misconstrue what they’ve heard.”

Her upbeat attitude is also appealing to her young audience. “I don’t use labels, and I keep it very positive,” Preis says. “I might have a fourth grader speak about a particular challenge, and then introduce a tenth grader who could show us his journey a few years down the line.”

Almost two years after October 7, Preis’s podcast and Tehillim recitation are still going strong—she continues to convene her Tehillim Army every Thursday night, drawing thousands of kids. But her main goal is to give children a chance to shine. There was one moment when an eightyear-old, who had trouble reading Hebrew due to a vision issue, got a major confidence boost. Preis gave him the opportunity to read a chapter of Tehillim in front of 1,000 kids. When kids—even those who struggle with reading— lead Tehillim, and everyone—including adults—repeats

after them, it significantly boosts their self-esteem and confidence, Preis explains. When she sees a struggling child taste success like that, it often moves her to tears.

Preis also strives to impart good middot, such as appreciation for the people in our lives who provide services but don’t always hear our gratitude (think bus drivers, mail carriers, etc.—Preis actually went and filmed herself learning to drive a school bus to show her listeners how demanding it is!). Recently Preis expanded her programming and began producing “Adventures with Tziri,” a video series in which she goes on trips to places like the Coca-Cola factory in Atlanta or an RV show in Pennsylvania. Additionally, she hosts an occasional teen night for girls. For Chanukah, her “I Am a Hero” video featured kids who saw a need and responded to it. “The goal was to inspire the kids who watch it, especially kids who might not have felt capable before,” she says. “I want to empower our next generation of leaders,” says Preis.

ONE TEEN’S FIGHT AGAINST ANTISEMITISM

SOFIE GLASSMAN

By Yehudis Litvak

The pervasive antisemitism Sofie Glassman encountered each day at East Meadow High School on Long Island, New York, did not erode her sense of Jewish identity. It deepened it.

“I became even more outspoken and proud of my Judaism in response to the increased hate,” she confided to Jewish Action At a time when hostility toward Jews is surging across social media feeds, campuses and city streets, Glassman—a high school senior and a sought-after speaker on antisemitism— stands as a striking testament to the power of student advocacy.

“I started to realize that there is nobody on our side,” she says. “There is nobody who is going to stand up for us unless we do it ourselves.”

Yehudis Litvak is an author of Jewish-themed historical fiction and a regular contributor to various Jewish publications.

Sofie Glassman, a high school senior and a sought-after public speaker, dedicates her time outside of school fighting antisemitism and advocating for Israel. Courtesy of Sofie Glassman

The seventeen-year-old, who currently serves as president of her regional Jewish Student Union (JSU), sits on the JSU national executive board, and leads her school’s JSU chapter, spends most of her time outside of school dedicated to fighting antisemitism. JSU, a program of NCSY, is a network of 400 Jewish culture clubs on public and private high school campuses throughout North America where students can strengthen their connection to their Jewish pride and heritage. A member of nine Jewish organizations, Glassman speaks at organizational meetings and other events—she spoke at this past year’s OU gala and convention—but her first talk about combating antisemitism was at a forum held at the Nassau County Legislative building in the spring of 2023. The forum was hosted by the Nassau County Legislative Task Force to condemn threats of antisemitism across Long Island.

Shy by nature, Glassman, who was fifteen at the time, had no prior experience with public speaking. “I was very scared,” she recalls, “but I spoke, and I told them about all the antisemitism I was seeing in my school, including how somebody brought to my attention that there were swastikas in the boys’ bathroom.” She had photos to prove it. During the talk, Glassman recounted various antisemitic incidents— including one in which students seated behind her in the cafeteria watched antisemitic videos and made jokes about

the Holocaust—and how she had approached the school administration, who assured her they would investigate. But she did not notice any changes after that. The antisemitic comments and incidents continued.

A representative of StandWithUs, an educational organization that helps students and communities combat antisemitism, was present at the forum, and they offered to help. StandWithUs sent a legal letter to Glassman’s school, threatening them with media action and giving them a deadline to respond.

“My school responded indirectly,” says Glassman. “They sent a letter out to the district saying that they don’t tolerate antisemitism. But that was for the parents. It doesn’t get through to the children.”

At the end of that school year, the school superintendent resigned. The new superintendent happened to be Jewish. On the first day of eleventh grade, Glassman sent the new superintendent a letter, introducing herself and requesting a meeting.

They met and discussed the issues. As a result, the superintendent introduced changes to the elementary school curriculum, teaching the children about antisemitism. “That way, we can help the next generation,” says Glassman.

SOWING THE SEEDS

The seeds of Glassman’s advocacy against antisemitism were planted early—in kindergarten, to be exact.

Her first encounter with antisemitism came at age five, when a Muslim classmate on the playground refused to play with her because she was Jewish. Hurt and confused, Glassman turned to her parents and her Hebrew school teacher, who explained that what she had experienced had a name: antisemitism.

Yet despite these experiences, Glassman’s connection to her Jewish identity took time to develop. She grew up attending a Conservative synagogue and Hebrew school, but it wasn’t until she spent a summer in Israel that she truly felt a deep, personal bond with her Judaism.

The first family member to travel to Israel was Glassman’s mother, Shari, who in 2018 went on a The Jerusalem Journey (TJJ) for Moms trip, organized by NCSY. “That’s when my mom realized that there was a piece missing in our lives, and that was our connection to Israel,” says Glassman. Shari continued her involvement with TJJ for Moms, going on several more Israel trips.

The family began incorporating more Jewish traditions into their daily lives, including Shabbat dinners. Glassman became involved with NCSY, where she met Orthodox Jews for the first time and gained a broader perspective on Judaism. She played a key role in founding a JSU club at her school. “It was very important to me because I was able to bring my Jewish identity to my high school,” she recalls.

At her school, Glassman makes sure the school announces her JSU club meetings every week with its full name: The

Glassman speaking at the OU gala and convention.

Photo: Ulrich Studios

I became even more outspoken and proud of my Judaism in response to the increased hate.

antisemitism while spreading positivity.

She continues to sell her apparel, often wearing it—along with her custom Israel-themed shoes—to school and around the neighborhood. The response has been overwhelmingly positive, from both Jews and non-Jews.

“Even something so small builds tolerance and a community around you,” she says. Her friends report that when they wear the apparel, people stop them on the street to start a conversation.

Rather than responding with anger, she believes education is the most effective way to combat hatred.

Expressing Pride in Israeli Culture Club. “It’s a small thing, but I think it’s powerful that everyone at East Meadow hears that regularly on the loudspeaker,” she says.

In the summer of 2023, Glassman traveled to Israel on a TJJ trip. “It completely changed my perspective on Judaism and what Israel actually means,” she says. “I had never been to Israel before. Being there and connecting to the land was really impactful for me. It solidified everything I was learning and doing.”

AFTER OCTOBER 7

Because Glassman had honed her skills as a Jewish activist, when October 7 happened, she was prepared.

At school, tensions escalated. Students posted messages like “Zionists are colonists” and “Zionists are the worst thing you can be.” Others shouted “Free Palestine” as they passed her in the hallway.

Glassman sprang into action. She launched a campaign to raise money for Israel, and her mother shared it on social media. The response was overwhelming.

“The amount of people who just wanted to help in any way that they could was insane,” she recalls. “Seeing people who had never expressed their love for Judaism come forward and want to help showed me the power of the Jewish community and how we come together in times of uncertainty. We were able to buy supplies and send them right away.” The much-needed supplies were flown to Israel, alongside donations from other organizations.

Building on that success, Glassman looked for other ways to raise funds. She began designing and selling proIsrael apparel, donating the proceeds to Jewish and Israeli causes. Her sweatshirts, T-shirts and accessories—adorned with Jewish symbols and the message Stop Jewish hate, spread love—quickly became sought after.

Glassman says, “I realized that people could show their Jewish pride by wearing something simple, while also helping a greater cause. So really the impact was doubling.”

Glassman ultimately created a nonprofit organization, Stop Jewish Hate Spread Love, dedicated to combating

The local Jewish community and NCSY have been deeply supportive of her work. Some of her non-Jewish friends have stood by her, while others have distanced themselves. But her advocacy has also introduced her to new friends—people, she says, “who want to make a difference and are constantly growing.”

“Sofie is someone who is able to motivate others,” says Rabbi Sammy Aronson, director of Mid-Island NCSY and JSU. “And whether it’s starting her own organization, or planning an event or being the first to sign up for a trip— Sofie is always willing to try new things.”

“Sofie stands up for what she believes in,” says Nechama Kamelhar, director of family engagement, Tri-State NCSY. “She has strong leadership qualities and she’s not afraid to speak out.”

With the recent worldwide rise in antisemitism, Glassman’s commitment to fight it has only grown. Glassman continues to speak at Jewish events, having worked hard to overcome her shyness. “Now I’ve broken out of my shell, because it is so much bigger than myself and I feel that it’s my responsibility,” she says.

Next year, Glassman plans to attend the Bar-Ilan University gap year program in Israel. Her long-term goal is to become an Israel educator. “I want to teach people about Israel and its importance, especially non-Jews,” says Glassman.

In the future, Glassman hopes to focus her organization on education. For now, she is planning more events and aims “to grow my efforts, raise more money, and also find new ways to support the Jewish community.”

TTHAT GIRL WHO LOVES THE JEWS

ADINA

FERNANDEZ

By Sarah Ogince

en days after October 7, 2023, as a chilling wave of antisemitism engulfed social media, an influencer named Adriana Fernandez created a post entitled “why I have nothing but love and admiration for the Jewish community.” Snapshots of Jewish children, parashah projects and a table set for Shabbat circulated as Fernandez described good experiences she’d had with Jews. “In a world where you might be saying to yourself: ‘I wish I wasn’t Jewish,’ I hope this video makes you say: ‘I am proud to be Jewish,’” she wrote. “Sincerely, ‘That weird girl who loves the Jews.’”

The post garnered more than 14,000 likes and a flood of teary, grateful comments.

Loving Jews, in fact, had become a full-time job for Fernandez, known, until recently, on TikTok and Instagram as the “Non-Jewish Nanny.” After stumbling into a job babysitting for Orthodox families in Boca Raton, Florida, she was so fascinated by their religion and culture that she decided to share her experiences with the world. Her videos discussing the ins and outs of frum life—from kosher laws to sheitels to Israeli Doritos—drew tens of thousands of devoted Jewish followers. Soon modest fashion companies were sending Fernandez, who was raised Christian, outfits to show off in her posts.

Fernandez’s fans loved seeing their familiar world afresh through “non-Jewish” eyes (“Woah,” she says in one video, brandishing a chalav Yisrael cheese stick with unfeigned awe, “Look at this! Jewish cheese!”). They also loved hearing her pronounce the guttural “ch” sound in “Pesach” correctly, a trick she picked up studying German diction—she is an opera singer by training. But after October 7, Fernandez felt there was something else she could give her followers: “I realized early on that my audience doesn’t need the education, they don’t need the political facts. They know it,” she says. “I found that what they needed more than anything was to love their Judaism and have inspiration.”

Fernandez’s posts from that time often featured the voices of the children she cared for, their faces pixilated for

Adina Shoshana Fernandez, the “Non-Jewish Nanny”–turned–“Now Jewish Nanny,” uses social media to spread positive messages about Jews and Judaism. Photos: Chana Stuart

privacy. “I would try to post sweet, uplifting content in the beginning, when everything was so depressing,” she recalls. “People would say, thank you for this video; it’s so different from what the rest of the world is talking about right now.” In the months after the Hamas massacre, as more Jews looked to express their identity online, the Non-Jewish Nanny attracted a religiously diverse Jewish following of nearly 100,000.

Then, on March 20 this year, Fernandez made an announcement: She had completed an Orthodox conversion and was reintroducing herself as Adina Shoshana, the “Now Jewish Nanny.”

Sarah Ogince is an award-winning editor and writer based in Spring Valley, New York.

DEEPENING APPRECIATION

Conversion to Judaism was an extraordinary twist in a journey that has led Fernandez far (spiritually if not geographically) from where she began. Raised by Christian parents in Sarasota, Florida, she studied vocal performance at Florida State University and was headed for a career in opera, while babysitting and bartending on the side, before a chance encounter with the Jewish community at a vulnerable moment changed her course.

Speaking on the Meaningful People podcast, Fernandez grew emotional as she described escaping an abusive relationship to babysit in “The Circle,” a network of Jewish neighborhoods in Boca Raton. The wholesome environment she found in the homes there—and the children who earnestly shared their faith with her— provided a striking contrast to what she was experiencing in her personal life, she said.

Fernandez’s respect for her employers’ way of life is palpable in her early videos, where she introduces viewers to Jewish pop music (Mordechai Shapiro’s “Schar Mitzvah” is her favorite) and describes with wide eyes her first encounter with a sheitel: “Just when I think I’ve learned everything about Judaism, they hit me with something else!” She also introduced fashion makeover videos, showing how she’d transformed outfits from her South Florida party-girl wardrobe for the yeshivah carpool pickup line. She found she preferred the more conservative style, and her delighted followers asked for more. “You’re doing a better job teaching tzenius than my twelve-plus years of Bais Yaakov teachers,” one commented.

Slowly, Fernandez’s appreciation for Jews and Judaism turned into something deeper. She began the conversion process before October 7 and says that the attack only

made her more determined to be Jewish: “I was very early on in the process. I could have backed out, and I’m proud to say that I didn’t.”

When Palestinian flags and hateful comments began to show up on her posts, she doubled down on her positive messages without mentioning her conversion. In one “Get Ready with Me” video, a standard of the female-influencer genre, she urges her followers to buy Israeli wine to boost the Jewish state’s economy. “My support for Israel was never contingent on my conversion,” she says, noting that her family supported Israel when she was a child. “Innocent babies and innocent people were ripped from their homes. That’s wrong.”

I realized early on that my audience doesn’t need the education, they don’t need the political facts. . . . what they needed more than anything was to love their Judaism and have inspiration.

Fernandez acknowledges that some of her followers may be disappointed to lose a “non-Jewish ally,” but her decision to convert only reinforces the message she wants to convey: “I chose this life because I think it’s beautiful,” she says. “And no matter how much the outside world or someone within their world makes them feel like they should hate it, they should remember what a gift it is.”

Her followers don’t seem to have any mixed feelings about welcoming her into the tribe: her post announcing her conversion has over 40,000 likes and counting.

While the conversion process left Fernandez fully educated about the basics of Judaism, there’s always more to learn. She’s moving on to posting videos on the weekly parashah and thoughts about the conversion process (she plans to publish a book about her experiences). But no matter the content, Fernandez remains passionate about sharing her positive vision of Jewish life. “I think every influencer should be so proud of anything they do to advocate for Israel and the Jewish people,” she says. “Everyone has their role, and I’m just thankful that people appreciate mine.”

In the summer of 2005, the Israeli government evicted close to 10,000 Israelis from their homes

in Gush Katif.

Photo: Eddie Gerald/Alamy Stock Photo

Photo: Naomi Tucker

THIS SUMMER MARKS TWENTY YEARS SINCE THE ISRAELI GOVERNMENT EVICTED CLOSE TO 10,000 ISRAELIS FROM THEIR HOMES IN GUSH KATIF, A BLOCK OF TWENTY-ONE COMMUNITIES IN THE SOUTHERN

GAZA STRIP, BUT SOME FORMER RESIDENTS ARE STILL MOURNING THEIR LOSS.

Leaving [Gush] was the hardest challenge I ever faced,” says former Gush resident Anita Tucker. Even twenty years later, her memories of that final day remain fresh in her mind.

“[On the day of the disengagement], my son, wearing his IDF uniform, tore keriyah. Then he bent down on his knees and kissed the ground. We sang ‘Hatikvah’ and ‘Ani Ma’amin.’ Everyone was in tears.”

Like many of her neighbors, Tucker couldn’t wrap her head around the government’s plan. As a farmer, the former Brooklynite and her husband developed hothouses for growing the region’s famous bug-free vegetables. She and her family were hopeful to the very end.

“We planted until we were forced to leave,” says Tucker. “We called it ma’amin and zorea [believing and planting].” Even as they were evacuated, they insisted on leaving the water on to water the crops.

After being forced from her home, Tucker’s first stop was the Kotel, where she arrived alongside several busloads of fellow evacuees. “If you don’t have a home, you pray for the everlasting home,” she explains.

There, thousands of their supporters were waiting, dancing with them in a kind of defiant joy, as they held tight to the Torah scrolls they’d taken from the communities set to be destroyed.

Starting again was an uphill battle. The Tuckers had been among the Gush’s 400 families—roughly a quarter of the 1,700 evacuated families—who supported themselves through agriculture. Tucker had been known throughout the Jewish world as the “celery lady,” though she points out that she, and her husband and partner in farming, Stuart, a biology teacher and musmach of Yeshiva University, also grew other vegetables including the region’s iconic bugfree cabbage and cauliflower as well as cherry tomatoes and flowers. They grew vegetables in inert sand, using drip irrigation.“That final year we were there, we grew twenty tons of vegetables per dunam.

“We had beautiful houses. We had a beautiful town. It was immoral and unethical to take 10,000 people out of their homes with no plan,” she says.

After they were pulled from their homes, the Tuckers and their neighbors ended up in hotels, youth hostels and kibbutz

Carol Green Ungar is an award-winning writer whose essays have appeared in Tablet, the Jerusalem Post, Ami Magazine, Jewish Action and other publications. She teaches memoir writing and is the author of several children’s books.

guest houses, mainly in Jerusalem, Ashkelon and Eilat.

As with the October 7 refugees, trying to make a permanent home out of what was meant to be a vacation spot was anything but enjoyable. Basic needs weren’t accounted for. “There was nowhere to do laundry and no activities for kids,” recalls Rabbi Yosef Zvi Rimon, a well-known rabbinic figure and posek who serves as the chief rabbi of Gush Etzion and community rabbi of Alon Shvut South, rosh yeshivah of Machon Lev and president of World Mizrachi. In the aftermath of the disengagement, Rabbi Rimon visited the evacuees and helped get them back on their feet, a process that took many long years.

After living for a year at the youth hostel of Kibbutz Ein Tzurim, near Ashkelon, the Tuckers moved to a caravilla (caravan home) on the agricultural fields of Ein Tzurim where they remained for years, living on land the government leased from the kibbutz.

“We spent seven years in caravans waiting for our new homes to be built,” Tucker recalls. “Some families with six kids had to live in those caravans.”

Eventually Tucker moved, along with ninety of her former neighbors, to a new home, named after her old home, Netzer Hazani. Her new community is located on agricultural land

Photo: Eddie Gerald/Alamy Stock Photo

that she and her neighbors purchased from Moshav Yesodot in central Israel.

“Today Netzer Hazani is a beautiful thriving town with a shul, a simchah hall and a youth center. “It took time and effort and help from people all over,” she says.

Tucker says that by the time the government allowed them to buy farmland in 2012 (seven years later), they were in their mid-sixties and had aged out of farming. Further, she says, the compensation for rebuilding was calculated according to Gaza prices, which didn’t match the cost of living in the lowlands (the Shefelah), where they now lived. As independent farmers, the Tuckers lacked a pension to fall back on, so despite his age, Stuart returned to teaching—he continues to teach today at age eighty-two. Anita became a volunteer fundraiser, raising money to help her former neighbors.

The Tuckers were the lucky ones. Others never got over the shock. “We had fatalities. Within three years of the disengagement, a number of people were diagnosed with cancer,” recalls Dr. Sody Naimer, a family physician and Ben-Gurion University medical school professor who practiced family medicine in Gush Katif.

LONG-TERM EFFECTS

Dr. Naimer points to a study conducted by one of his medical students and published in the Israel Medical Association Journal comparing Gush Katif evacuees with a control group that didn’t undergo the disengagement, which revealed unusually high rates of both diabetes and hypertension among the evacuees (Ronen Kory, Alon Carney and Sody Naimer, “Health Ramifications of the Gush Katif Evacuation,” Israel Medical Association Journal, vol. 15 [March 2013]: 137-142).

Given the trauma surrounding their departure, it was no surprise that many evacuees also experienced a dip in their mental health.

“The emotional repercussions were devastating. Lots of us were weeping [on the day of the evacuation],” Dr. Naimer recalls. Dr. Naimer held himself together by jogging. “Instead of having a nervous breakdown, I jogged thousands of kilometers each week.”

Thankfully, Dr. Naimer eventually found his way, but he says not everyone was similarly blessed. “Some of my

then-teenaged children’s friends didn’t do well,” he recalls.

“There was a lot of religious fallout. Some entered a state of insecurity and confusion and never got their act together. Not an insignificant number never got married or raised families,” he says.

But they weren’t the majority. It took years, but in the end, most Gush Katif teens and adults did rebound, says Dr. Naimer. He says that many of the teens, even those who spent a year protesting the disengagement, and claiming they will not don IDF uniforms if the disengagement goes through, eventually served in the IDF, and most remained religiously observant. The strong religious faith endemic to that region was key to softening the blow.

WHEN COMMUNITIES SCATTER

Also of critical importance was the powerful community feeling that survived even after the communities were destroyed. “Our strength was

DEBBIE’S STORY

By Debbie Rosen, as told to Toby Klein Greenwald

A resident of Gush Katif for more than twenty years, Debbie Rosen moved to the area with her husband in 1985. A photographer, Debbie worked as the spokesperson for the Gush Katif municipality, handling both the foreign and the Israeli media. She has six children.

After the evacuation from our home in Neve Dekalim, we were sent to the Shalom Hotel in Jerusalem where we were for five months. It was very difficult. It’s nice to be in a hotel for a week or two, for a vacation, but not when you have no home to return to.

Then we were sent to Nitzan, near Ashkelon, to live in caravillas (small, cheaply built temporary structures that sit on concrete blocks) with the idea that in a year or two we would build permanent homes nearby. That was almost twenty years ago.

I still live in a caravilla today. I cannot afford to build a house, though I have tried hard to make our caravilla a home.

During the evacuation, my husband and I were in the process of getting divorced. We finalized it after we had already moved to Nitzan. I trained to be a tour guide, and I loved the work. For a while, things were good—I led large groups of tourists who came off the cruise ships docking at Ashdod, and others who arrived for the Maccabiah Games. But we all lost our jobs during the Covid-19 pandemic, and then again during the recent war. Everything stopped.

I always loved photography, and studied it professionally in college, where I also met people from the kibbutzim near Gaza. Since the massacre on October 7, I’ve recognized some of the names in news reports—former classmates of mine from Kibbutz Nir Am and Kfar Aza, both of which were attacked. I thought about the trauma they must have endured.

In the time leading up to the uprooting, Alex Levac, a worldclass photographer, and Daniel Ben Simon, a reporter—both of them working for Haaretz, a left-wing paper not usually sympathetic to Gush Katif—came to photograph and write about the looming expulsion.

We had a very good relationship with all of them, even though they were from “the other side.” Alex loved my photographs. He later curated an exhibit of my photographs of Gush Katif, which was shown in Ra’anana after the uprooting.

Recently, I took a retraining course from the Ministry of Education to become a teacher. Today I teach English, Tanach and literature, and I also serve as the head of informal education in a school for teens at risk. The work is very meaningful. I feel it is real shlichut, a mission.

I have three boys and three girls. My children were young when we were removed from our home in Neve Dekalim. Since the current war started, my sons found themselves back in Gaza—as soldiers—serving in the very places where, as children, they had stood in protest against leaving Gush Katif. Two of them are in Sayeret Golani, an elite combat unit. The third works in a non-combat role in the Israeli Air Force.

One of my daughters lives in Tekuma, a religious moshav in southern Israel that was evacuated during this war. Tekuma is also the site of the “car graveyard”—a memorial of more than 1,500 burnt and destroyed vehicles belonging to victims of the October 7 massacre. My daughter’s mother-in-law, who had lived in Tekuma too, recently passed away. When the war began, my daughter’s in-laws had to leave their home for two months. They hoped to return, but instead offered their house to fifteen soldiers stationed in the area, so the men could have something better than tents to sleep in.

I continue to photograph; I love taking pictures of nature and people. It gives me the shivers now to remember that, in the summer of 2022, I participated in an exhibit for a soldiers’ memorial center. One of the photographs was of a wall built to defend the southern border of Eretz Yisrael.

The wall is in Kibbutz Be’eri.

Emunah gives me strength. We can’t control everything in our lives, and we cannot take anything for granted. I am grateful in spite of everything we’ve gone through, baruch Hashem, that my three sons came home alive from the war. We have to be grateful for everything.

Toby Klein Greenwald is an award-winning journalist and theater director. She is recipient of the ATARA Life Achievement Award.

Caravillas such as these in Nitzan were built as temporary homes for evacuees of Gush Katif; Debbie Rosen still lives in a caravilla today. Photo: Moshe Milner/Israel Government Press Office

Courtesy of Debbie Rosen

in staying together,” said Lior Kalfa, who served as an official in Neve Dekalim, the largest town in Gush Katif. Staying together required a great deal of planning, says Kalfa, who is today a government official tasked with handling Bedouin affairs. Before the disengagement, he was very active in the protests against the disengagement, and afterwards, he acted as a liaison and negotiator between the displaced residents and the government, lobbying for their right to stay together. Members

residents and the disengagement.

For the evacuees, this was like a second death. “We couldn’t give up on the community. Our strength was in staying together,” says Kalfa.

They won. In the end, most of the Gush’s communities relocated together in whole or in significant parts. For some, however, staying together didn’t work out.

Billig relates the tragic story of one Gush community, Kfar Darom, which relocated en masse to Ashkelon.

“In the yishuv, the children were free to run around. Now, instead of sending their kids out to play, one of the parents had to lock the door and take their kids down in the elevator just to see their friends. . . . It didn’t work—most of the time, they preferred that the kids stay at home,” says Billig.

For many of these families, Shabbat was no longer a spiritual oasis but lonely and socially isolating.

of Kalfa’s own community of Neve Dekalim were scattered among ten hotels in Jerusalem and Ashkelon. “And that was before social media, but,” he recalls, “we worked hard to stay in touch.”

Sadly, it was this need for community that the government officials failed to take into account. “They [the government] rented empty apartments in the south, in Be’er Sheva, Ofakim and Kiryat Gat, with the idea that these would be the permanent homes for the evacuees,” says Professor Miriam Billig, associate professor in the Department of Sociology and Anthropology at Ariel University, a researcher on Gush Katif’s

“The government pressured them to decide quickly,” says Billig. Community leaders went along with the move to two twenty-story high-rise apartment buildings overlooking the Mediterranean, which was, ironically, a similar view to that which they had enjoyed in their former homes.

It was, says Billig, a “community disaster.” Families with six or eight or ten children—who were accustomed to living in private homes and “faceto-face relationships”—were moved into apartments scattered on different floors and buildings where they were disconnected from one another.

“The community was allotted a mildew-infested basement space for a synagogue. No one wanted to be there,” says Billig.

The most challenging holiday was Sukkot. Though a few families built their sukkot around the towers, most abandoned the towers to celebrate the holiday with relatives in other parts of the country, leaving those who remained feeling forlorn during what should have been a time of joy.

Billig also says the move devastated the evacuees’ mental health, with adolescents—vulnerable even in the best of circumstances—hit hardest.

“The youth hated the building. Some didn’t want to come home

The new community of Netzer Hazani is located on agricultural land that the Tuckers and their neighbors purchased from Moshav Yesodot in central Israel. Photo: MathKnight/Wikimedia Commons

FROM GUSH KATIF TO THE REBUILT GANEI TAL

Moti and Hana Sender with their moringa products, https://moringaforestshop.com/.

Moti, who was an employee of the Mizrachi Bank, and Hana, who was studying educational counseling at Bar-Ilan University, lived in Gush Katif. After the expulsion, with perseverance and resolve, they rebuilt their lives—more than once. Today, they live in the newly reestablished moshav of Ganei Tal, in central Israel, where they run a thriving agricultural business.

In 1978, we were looking to leave the city [Petach Tikva] and find a new life. After getting some training in agriculture, we moved to Moshav Katif, where we stayed for a year. There, we set up greenhouses and began growing flowers. A year later, in the summer of 1979, Moshav Ganei Tal was established; we took apart the greenhouses and moved them to Ganei Tal. We continued growing flowers, but eventually we experimented with vegetables—peppers, for example—and over time, we began to specialize in houseplants. [In addition to working in agriculture and in the local community administration, Hana later directed a nonprofit institute in Neve Dekalim: The Katif Center for Research and Development of the Deserts of the Seashore.]

After the expulsion, we were sent to live in Kibbutz Hafetz Haim in central Israel. We brought some of our agricultural equipment along. I [Moti] thought: maybe we’ll return to farming. Meanwhile, I was certain that someone would eventually approach me and say, “Moti, we have work for you.” But no one ever did.

So how did we survive after the expulsion? With G-d’s help.

At the time, I [Moti] continued to run a website that I created, www.katif.net. Later, it provided evacuees with updates and information about events and the status of the various communities from Gush Katif. The site operated for years

without any outside funding. [Moti was and is still a prolific photographer and has an archive of 40–50,000 photos of Gush Katif.]

Eventually, we decided to return to farming. Choosing to return to farming was a risky decision, but it was the path we decided to take. We built greenhouses, starting once again with houseplants. We opened our savings accounts. We had no pensions. We had to make do entirely on our own. Only much later, after a long and painful process, did we receive compensation from the government.

People said we were crazy to build new greenhouses, but we told them, “We’d rather put money into building than give it to a psychiatrist.” Yes, farming is tough. We rise at 5:00 am and work until 6:00 pm.

We worked in one of the farms of Moshav Arugot for a year, and then Hafetz Haim gave us some land because we still hadn’t received our own land from the government. We thought we would be in Hafetz Haim for a year or two, but we ended up being there for seven years. Finally, in 2014, nine years after the expulsion, we received our own land in the rebuilt moshav of Ganei Tal. And then, for the third time, we set about building a new agricultural farm.

Now, in the current war, we’ve had eight family members deployed to fight—sons, sons-in-law and grandsons. Three

Toby Klein Greenwald is an award-winning journalist and theater director. She is recipient of the ATARA Life Achievement Award.

By Moti and Hana Sender, as told to Toby Klein Greenwald

The “Moringa Forests” in the rebuilt community of Ganei Tal. Photos courtesy of Moti and Hana Sender

We never anticipated that moringa would grow this big. . . . It’s not just a business for us; it’s a calling.

of our grandchildren were born in Neve Dekalim, in Gush Katif. They were very young at the time of the expulsion—too young to remember—and yet they returned to fight in the very place from which they had once been uprooted.

One day, an IDF soldier sent us a photo of a partial sign he had found in the sands of Gaza. It read, “Sender Plant Nursery.” It felt like a sword had been plunged into our hearts. It was deeply emotional for us.

In Ganei Tal, we worked in agriculture for many years, always looking for ways to add value to what we were doing. At one point, someone suggested we invest in moringa seeds, so we did some research. What we discovered was remarkable: the moringa tree, often called the “miracle tree,” is an incredibly nutritious and medicinal plant native to parts of Africa and Asia. It’s gaining popularity worldwide for its health benefits and its potential as a sustainable food source.

About seven years ago, we decided to begin planting and growing moringa. Our moringa is cultivated on a five-acre plot we call the “Moringa Forests” on the lands of Ganei Tal.

Sustainability is at the heart of what we do. We plant trees that are meant to produce oil at wider intervals, while we plant other trees more densely. After harvesting, we grind the dried leaves into powder. We cold-press the seeds to extract moringa oil. The two of us work hard in the growing, harvesting and drying process and we take on one or two extra workers as needed. The powder we sell contains 100 percent pure moringa, with no additives.

We began by distributing seedlings to IDF camps, schools and yishuvim (small communities). People came and took the seedlings, and our business began to grow.

After we planted the dense area, we thought, why not make this a tourist attraction as well? So, we created something unique—the Great Moringa Maze! During the Covid-19 pandemic, when gatherings were impossible but being outdoors was safe, our forest maze attracted even more visitors.

Three years ago, we launched the Moringa Forest line of cosmetics. Today, we offer a variety of products including tea leaves, capsules, powders and cosmetics and an array of healing creams and serums.

We never anticipated that moringa would grow this big. We see a major part of our mission today as giving—that’s our shlichut. It’s not just a business for us; it’s a calling. People come from far and wide to get the benefits of moringa.

In 2005, our homes were destroyed during the expulsion. There was nothing left to do—only to look ahead and pray to Hakadosh Baruch Hu, “Hashivenu—bring us back.” From the lowest point we had reached, we made the decision to lift ourselves up, move forward and push ahead. Through faith and trust in the Borei Olam, we were able to succeed. He is the guiding force that drives us.

Continued

from yeshivah,” says Billig. It wasn’t long before the evacuees pulled up stakes and moved on— sometimes as a group, sometimes on their own. The last holdouts, a group of thirteen families who remained for six years, relocated together to the new village of Shavei Darom, named after their destroyed town.

An idealistic and intensely Zionist group, the evacuees wanted their new addresses to reflect their deepest beliefs. There were two schools of thought in the Dati Leumi world about how an uprooted community should rebuild. One focused on the need to create a new community, preferably in border or outlying areas. This approach followed the ideology of Yeshivat Har Hamor, a Religious Zionist yeshivah in Har Homa, Jerusalem, founded in 1997 as an offshoot of Yeshivat Mercaz HaRav, that defined their role as “replanting,” which meant establishing new communities mostly in border areas.

As an example of successful “replanters,” Billig points to evacuees from the Gush Katif town of Atzmona who made their homes in an abandoned secular kibbutz called Shomria, which they transformed into a thriving moshav that now houses nearly 900 people. “They got to live in a large space with community structures similar to what they had in Gush Katif,” says Billig.

Another group took a different tack.

Reasoning that their fight against the disengagement failed because the Gush Katif communities were perceived as having distanced from the rest of the country, they felt that the antidote was to “reconnect with the nation” by adding their strength to existing cities, villages and towns.

Billig cites the Netzarim evacuees who formed the nucleus of Ariel’s Garin Torani (a group of young Religious Zionist families who move together into a neighborhood to effect social change and strengthen Judaism). They established

Today Netzer Hazani is a beautiful thriving town with a shul, a simchah hall and a youth center. Photo: Naomi Tucker

Of critical importance was the powerful community feeling that survived even after the communities were destroyed.

‘Our strength was in staying together.’

a new Torah-based community within that secular bastion.

“They transformed Ariel,” says Billig. “Before them, the town . . . had nothing to do with the surrounding communities of the Shomron.”

Thanks to their efforts, today Ariel boasts ample kosher food establishments and eateries, stores selling modest clothing, religious schools and a decidedly more Jewish flavor.

Both strategies worked, says Billig.

CHANGING JOBS, CHANGING LIVES

Finding employment was another major hurdle for evacuees. Because of the disengagement, most Gush Katif residents had lost their jobs—they had worked in the region in agriculture, tourism or education.

“I went to see them in their hotels,” recalls Rabbi Rimon.“Eighty-five percent of them were jobless.” Raising funds for seed money and corralling professionals into mentoring, Rabbi Rimon started an initiative called JobKatif to help

evacuees pivot into new employment. Now renamed La’Ofek, the organization is dedicated to helping Israelis find employment and rehabilitating marginalized populations, including Ethiopian-Israelis, needy soldiers and at-risk youth.

“You had to think out of the box,” says Rabbi Rimon. Oftentimes, the pivot was into another profession. Rabbi Rimon recalls a former cherry tomato grower, now too old to farm, who became an advisor to young farmers, helping them do their work, get their crops to market, and make decisions on how to get the best and most profitable yields. “He now works with other farmers, which brings him joy.”

Another tragedy turned to triumph was Eitan, a former security guard whom Rabbi Rimon and JobKatif set up as a bicycle store owner. “It all started with a simple question: I asked him, ‘what are you good at?’” the rabbi recalls. It turned out that Eitan was a bicycle aficionado skilled at taking bicycles apart and fixing them. Using seed money from donors, JobKatif helped Eitan open a bicycle store. JobKatif provided Eitan with professional mentoring for a whole year, making Eitan’s bike shop one of 280 businesses the initiative helped open. Amazingly, the vast majority of those businesses are still up and running and doing well, a fact

which Rabbi Rimon attributes to siyata d’Shmaya and the mentoring program.

Not only did JobKatif save individuals, it saved entire families.

Rabbi Rimon recalls a teenaged girl who related that her parents, both unemployed as a result of the evacuation, were about to divorce. Then JobKatif stepped in and helped them find work. “Now that both my parents are working, we have a happy family,” she told the rabbi.

IT’S NOT OVER

That happiness is not complete. Though most have started a new and fulfilling chapter in their lives, many of the former residents long to return.

“Our kids grow up with the tradition that Gaza is home,” says Tucker, echoing the sentiments of most of her former neighbors.

Now seventy-nine, Tucker is currently negotiating with a company that runs assisted living homes to get them to build one in or near Gaza—“so older people from Gush Katif can move there,” she says.

“At the right time,” says Tucker. “We are going back home.”

Anita and Stuart Tucker at their home in the new community of Netzer Hazani in 2015.

Photo: Hadas Parush/Flash90

Just Between Us

Readers are invited to use this forum to express personal views and address issues of concern to fellow Jews. Send submissions to ja@ou.org.

NO LABELS, NO LIMITS

By Rabbi Yisrael Motzen

Let’s try a little thought experiment: Imagine you were on a school board hiring a new rosh yeshivah and one of the applicants was childless. Would that make you second-guess hiring him? What if you were considering hiring a principal for a Bais Yaakov school and the applicant was divorced? Or hiring a maggid shiur who was estranged from his wife? Or perhaps you were looking for someone to speak to about your chinuch dilemma and the rabbi who was recommended had no children of his own. Would you, in any of these

situations, look elsewhere, wondering if the applicant has the necessary experience to do their job well?

Baruch Hashem, our bubbies and zeidies did not allow these perceived deficiencies to get in the way. Had they done so, the Jewish people would look very different today. Rabbi Meir Shapiro, who was childless, would not have been entrusted to build Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin and initiate Daf Yomi. Sarah Schenirer, who was divorced and childless, would not have been respected enough to create the Bais Yaakov movement. Rav Tzadok HaKohen, who was separated from his wife, would not have been invited to take the helm of the Izhbitz Chassidus. And Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, who was childless, would not have been the address for countless parents who turned to him for chinuch advice.

How many changemakers are there in the world, with ideas to transform their communities, who are too bashful to share their thoughts? How many talmidei chachamim live and die unknown to the world because they

second-guess the extent of their own Torah knowledge? Sometimes it is the individual with the skills or wisdom who is at fault for not sharing their abilities with others, but sometimes it is we, the community members, who are at fault for not giving them the opportunities they deserve because we make assumptions about those who do not fall into typical family categorizations.

Of course, it’s a two-way street. Individuals who find themselves outside the traditional family structure—particularly singles—also carry a responsibility to step into community life. For example, many single men and women float from shul to shul and do not have a shul to call home. While shuls could certainly do more to make them feel more welcome, by not joining a shul, these individuals are not only left without a rabbi who can act as an advocate for them, but they lose the opportunity to have a real sense of community. Additionally, instead of being the recipient of other people’s chesed, volunteering with one of the

Rabbi Yisrael Motzen is the rabbi of Ner Tamid Greenspring Valley Congregation in Baltimore, Maryland. He serves as special assistant to the executive vice presidents of the Orthodox Union and is also the director of Ashiva, a new OU department dedicated to raising awareness about the challenges faced by individuals who do not fit the typical Orthodox family mold, and to ensuring they are treated with the respect they deserve.

Sarah Schenirer, who was divorced and childless, would not have been respected enough to create the Bais Yaakov movement.

countless chesed organizations in their communities can reawaken their innate sense of dignity that we all deserve.

In a recent OU study, single men and women were asked what they most wanted from the community. The overwhelming response was not a call for compassion or special treatment, but simply to be treated like everyone else. What does that mean practically? When speaking to a single person at a kiddush , engage in the same topics with them as you would

with anyone else. When seeing a single person in a store, say hi, without giving that overly-compassionatebleeding-into-pity look for still being single. And, as our history has made clear, give single men and women opportunities that we afford those who are married with children.

The Gemara in Sanhedrin (37a) explains that Hashem created Adam as an individual to teach us that the entirety of the world is worth being created for one person. He was not only

single; he was without parents, without children and without a spouse, and yet, he was able to say, “bishvili nivra haolam—the world was created for me.”

Rav Tzadok, in Peri Tzadik (Parashas Shekalim 1:2), explains the Gemara to mean that each person has an utterly unique role to play in the Divine plan. This is an idea we all know and believe in. It would serve us well, as individuals and communities, if we could put this ideal into practice.

YES, THERE ARE JEWS IN CHARLOTTE

Living Jewishly in the American South

By Adina Peck

Irecently introduced myself to a professional deeply immersed in Jewish communal work, and we asked each other the common “Where are you from?” get-to-knowyou question. When I said North Carolina, she responded semi-jokingly, “Well, that ends Jewish geography.” You, too, might have thought something similar.

Personally, I was taken aback— not by her lack of connection to Southern Jewry, but by her combined bluntness and seemingly unselfconscious ignorance.

About one out of every four Jews in America live in the South.1 I can play Jewish geography, and, dare I say, I’m fortunate to play well. But I’m not surprised many Jews don’t realize

there are fellow Jewish people in North Carolina. (How could they be expected to know unless they’ve met or heard of them?)

Frankly, it reinforces my conviction to broaden people’s perception of American and world Jewry. North Carolina is home to approximately 50,000 Jews.2 We’re more than a fly-over state for the annual snowbirds’ journey to Florida and more than a drivethrough state on the way to popular beaches and historic towns.

True, the Jews are scattered throughout; there are no mostly Jewish neighborhoods. There’s no kosher restaurant open for lunch. No Jewish high school. These aren’t points of pride, rather matters of the present reality—and matters that speak to the resilience, intentionality and sacrifice of those who persist in their commitment to living Jewishly in these areas.

I didn’t grow up walking to shul, but now, when I go back to visit, I walk upward of three and a half miles between my home in Charlotte and the local Orthodox shul. To all those drivers who saw someone walking solo across a major thoroughfare in fancy chag attire, schlepping a lulav and etrog, I affirm that for me, too, it was an unforgettable experience.

On my long walk to the Charlotte Torah Center, I pass by the Reform temple, the Conservative synagogue and the JCC. In a remarkable prioritization of Jewish unity over difference, these institutions as well as the Chabad-run Charlotte Jewish Day School (CJDS) all reside on a designated fifty-four-acre campus,

appropriately named Shalom Park. The campus was initiated and preserved since the 1980s by a pivotal Charlotte Jewish philanthropist and founder of the well-known Family Dollar store chain, Leon Levine, a”h

In my lifetime, numerous individuals have stepped up with a sense of responsibility to provide for the community in unbelievably significant ways. The kosher grocer in town is the only one in the state, and the relatively small demand for kosher food in the area does not suffice to support the shop. Knowing the community depends on him, owner Jeff Gleiberman pursues a niche supplementary revenue source to ensure his business can stay open: He delivers kosher food to observant inmates in the South. Every kosherobservant resident, traveler or inmate between Atlanta, Asheville, Nashville and Norfolk has had access to prepared kosher foods for decades because of the dedication and mesirut nefesh of the Gleiberman family.

Similarly, community educator Rebbetzin Sara Oppenheim recently achieved a longstanding dream. Until this year, there has never been an eruv in the city. Through countless meetings, emails, calls, prayers and chizuk from fellow Jews, Rebbetzin Oppenheim collaborated with the municipality and spearheaded a taskforce to install a halachically kosher eruv that now enables families to take their young children to the park on Shabbat and meet and share meals with other Jews in the community.

Adina Peck is talent development coordinator at the Orthodox Union.

Time can change many things, but so far, there is still no distinctly Jewish neighborhood in Charlotte. Walking to shul feels like a microcosmic ingathering of the exiles: a busy Shabbat morning means you might see one other person, fifty to one hundred feet away, headed in a similar direction, and you share the same thought: “Hey, that Jew is doing what I’m doing, too! Not many in this city do it, but Jews all around the world are also on their walk to shul.”

But walking alone to shul carries with it its own feeling of spiritual empowerment. “Out of town,” there’s no norm to living Jewishly; it requires an unpopular—and deliberate—choice. Out of the approximately 15,000 Jews in Charlotte,3 those affiliated generally choose to become members wherever they have generational ties or—in the case of new Charlotteans— wherever the youth program best suits their family. Parents enroll their kids in one of the Jewish preschools, and occasionally in elementary school at Charlotte Jewish Day School. By fifth grade, however, the vast majority of Jewish kids experience Judaism primarily through extracurricular activities, such as Hebrew school, refreshing their Hebrew literacy in preparation for their bar or bat mitzvah ceremonies.

That describes Jewish life for me growing up, and some variation of this is what Jewish living looks like for many Jews in America. Often, Jewish parents scattered throughout American cities and towns speak about and live by Jewish values of tzedakah, chesed and hachnasat orchim, tracing these principles more to culture than to Torah. Jews are proud to be Jewish and act Jewish in whatever way that means to them; it doesn’t necessarily correlate with Torah knowledge or observance.

My “extracurricular Judaism” deepened in high school. I began to take on leadership roles within a local chapter of a large Jewish youth group. Only when I visited family out of state did I learn about NCSY, which contrasted starkly to the teen-led social programming I’d known. NCSY has rabbis and advisors to share Torah and

‘Out of town,’ there’s no norm to living Jewishly; it requires an unpopular—and deliberate—choice.

provide a listening ear, and it’s cool for teens to ask philosophical Jewish questions. At my first NCSY event, I saw more peers than I had thought possible exploring Torah concepts— and enjoying it. There were so many teens like me, equally in awe of the depth and beauty of Jewish practices. This was an entirely different model of Jewish youth programming than what I was used to, and it struck me as a gaping hole within North Carolina’s opportunities for young Jews.

So, with the dedication of NCSY rabbis in Ohio and Georgia and advisors from New York, we brought the first NCSY Shabbaton to Charlotte in February 2017. Between 2017 and 2022, there was a combination of virtual and in-person weekly chaburahs, a handful of Shabbatons and holiday events. Every event engaged between two and ten Jewish teens. Sometimes low attendance felt like failure, especially knowing how much mentors had invested in me and these programs to get things started. But this is where I learned tenacity and the importance of pivoting rather than abandoning a mission.

And so, this group of geographically scattered klal workers fiercely devoted to deepening the Jewish connection of Southerners they’d never met brainstormed how to better serve the state’s Jewish teens. We decided to shift our efforts from running programs to promoting more Jewish Student Union (JSU) clubs. JSU, a project of NCSY, is a network of after-school Jewish culture clubs in public schools and non-Jewish private schools throughout North America that aim to teach teens about their Jewish heritage and help them meet other Jewish teens. What happened next was remarkable:

between 2023 and 2025, JSU clubs have exploded in double digits across North Carolina.

And that’s where things stand now, in my corner of the South.

In densely Orthodox areas, it’s easy to forget—or never know about—the breadth of Jewry and how Jews live so differently in some ways yet so similarly in others.

We often play Jewish geography— and the stakes are low. Far more often, though, we daven and recite tefillot that call on us to keep our fellow Jews in mind. When we speak to G-d, how well do we understand the breadth of the Jewish community on whose behalf we pray? Thrice daily, we make requests such as “shema koleinu—hear our voice” and “ya’aseh shalom aleinu ve’al kol Yisrael—may He make peace upon us and upon all of Israel,” speaking on behalf of the Jewish people.

It’s important to remember there are Jews beyond the ones you know.

And some are in North Carolina.

Notes

1. https://ajpp.brandeis.edu/us_jewish_ population_2020 and https://www.pewresearch.org/religion /2021/05/11/jewish-demographics/ #geographic-distribution.

2. https://welcome-israel.com/blog/ jewish-population-by-state#populationdemographics-most-jewish-states and https://worldpopulationreview.com/staterankings/jewish-population-by-state.

3. https://jewishnc.org/jewish-communities -in-north-carolina/jewish-life-incharlotte-nc/.

By Rabbi Donneal Epstein

With the rebound of travel in the post-Covid-19 world, an Orthodox Jew may find him- or herself facing halachic quandaries. Take the following quiz to find out how much you really know about kosher travel. Good luck—and don’t forget to tally up your answers at the end!

1. If you travel to a place where a miracle happened to your father or grandfather [or any ancestor]—for example, visiting a site in Eastern Europe where a grandparent miraculously survived the Holocaust—what prayer should be recited?

A. Hallel

B. Tachanun

C. Nishmas

D. You should recite the blessing “she’asah nes l’avi [or l’imi] bamakom hazeh Who performed a miracle for my father [or mother] in this place.”

Answer: D

As stated in Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 218:4, while one does not typically recite a blessing for a miracle that occurred to someone else, an exception is made for a person visiting a site where a miracle happened to his father—or grandfather. In such a case, the proper blessing is “she’asah nes l’avi [or l’imi] bamakom hazeh.”

2. In many hotels, there are video cameras in the hallways and at public entrances. Are you permitted to walk in front of the video camera on Shabbos knowing full well that you are being recorded?

A. It’s permissible in cases of great need.

B. No

C. Yes

D. Only if you are photogenic

Answer: C

This is based on the rulings of Rabbi Shmuel Wosner (Shevet HaLevi 10:160) and Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef (Yabia Omer 9:25). Their reasoning is that simply walking normally, even if it results in being recorded by a surveillance camera, is not considered a prohibited action. At most, it could be categorized as a pesik reisha d’lo nicha lei—a permitted act that unintentionally and inevitably causes a prohibited result, but in which the person has no interest.

In this case, it’s even more lenient than a typical pesik reisha, because the camera is recording continuously regardless of your presence; your walking does not actively cause a new melachah to occur.

3. May you walk past a motion-controlled LED light on Shabbos? For example, if walking into a hotel hallway triggers a sensor to make the light go on, is it okay to enter the hallway?

A. Depends on how much you need the light

B. Yes

C. No

D. You can walk by as long as your intention is not to turn on the light.

Answer: D

See the explanation for question 2.

However, if it is pitch black and you truly need the light, then turning it on would not be permissible. However, if a light is already on and the additional illumination merely enhances what is already sufficient, it would be permitted, since you can manage without the extra light.

4. If you are on a plane and would like to eat a sandwich, what should you do about washing netilas yadaim?

A. Nothing

B. Stick to a ketogenic diet for the duration of the flight.

C. “Wash” your hands with a sanitizing wipe.

D. It’s ideal to wash outside the lavatory. If this is not practical, use a cup and wash from the sink inside the lavatory.

Answer: D

See Shulchan Aruch, OC 158:1.

Rabbi Donneal Epstein directs the Asian Desk of OU Kosher’s New Companies Department. He lives with his family in Brooklyn, New York. He is the author of Halachos for the Traveler, which addresses the specific problems that confront the kosher traveler.

5. If you are traveling with your baby who has a dirty diaper, may you daven while seated next to the baby?

A. If you are running out of time to daven, yes

B. No

C. You may, if the baby is cute.

D. Yes, because he or she is just a baby. Answer: B

One may not daven near anything that emits a bad odor when it spoils. This is based on Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 79:1, and Mishnah Berurah there, n. 23. The prohibition applies even if you personally cannot smell it—if you’re sitting close enough that someone with a normal sense of smell could detect the odor, it’s still forbidden to pray there.

6. If you are sitting on a plane and davening, do you still have to keep your feet together and bow at the correct places?

A. No, once you are not standing, there is no need.

B. Only if you are facing Jerusalem

C. Yes

D. It depends on which prayer you are reciting.

Answer: C

See Shu”t Iggeros Moshe, OC 4:20.

7. If you are driving, may you pull into a rest stop that has a non-kosher eatery? Is there a maris ayin (the prohibition against doing something permissible that might appear to others as a violation of Jewish law) issue involved?

A. It’s not a problem.

B. Depends if anyone is looking

C. It’s preferable not to.

D. None of the above

Answer: A

Maris ayin would not apply in this case as rest stops are frequented by everyone, even those who have no intention of eating anything there. Therefore, it is perfectly normal for observant Jews to be seen there without people assuming they are eating non-kosher food.

8. If you pull into a rest stop, may you purchase cold soda from a fountain if you recognize the brand as a kosher one?

A. No

B. Yes

C. Only if you are by yourself

D. If your friends are with you Answer: B

This is because we can reasonably assume that an establishment would not substitute, say, Coca-Cola, with a different soda, due to the potential legal consequences.

9. May you buy coffee at a rest stop without a hechsher?

A. Only unflavored coffee

B. No way

C. Only if you are a coffee lover

D. Yes

Answer: A

You may purchase the coffee because, halachically, there is an assumption that cooking equipment owned by Gentiles is not considered ben yomo—that is, it has not been used within the past twenty-four hours. Therefore, any absorbed taste from non-kosher food is considered to have become stale and no longer renders the equipment prohibited for incidental use.

10. It is common during the summer to see stands at the side of the road with people selling fruits and vegetables. May one purchase cut fruit or vegetables from these stands?

A. Yes

B. No

C. You can on a hot day.

D. Depends on how hungry you are Answer: A

The Rema (YD 96:5) writes that one may purchase lemons from a Gentile, even if the knife used may have previously come into contact with nonkosher food. His reasoning is that any non-kosher residue would be removed after the first few lemons were cut, leaving the remainder unaffected. Since the majority of lemons would have been sliced with a now-clean knife, all are permitted. Even if it’s unclear which lemon was cut first, the same principle applies: the majority were cut with an acceptable knife. The same halachic rationale would apply to fruit platters prepared in supermarkets.

11. Are you allowed to pray in a nondenominational chapel in an airport?

A. Only if you are davening with a minyan

B. Yes

C. No

D. Depends on the circumstances Answer: C

As Rabbi Yisroel Belsky, zt”l—who served for nearly thirty years as a senior posek at OU Kosher—explained to the author: One may not pray in a space that gives recognition to another religion. Even if the chapel is labeled “non-denominational,” its association with multi-faith worship creates a halachic concern, and it should be avoided.

12. May you purchase a smoothie without a hechsher?

A. No

B. Yes

C. If you are hot and thirsty

D. Only in the tri-state area

Answer: A

Without a reliable kosher certification, there’s no way to be certain what ingredients are in the smoothie—or how they’re prepared. A hechsher ensures that someone knowledgeable is taking halachic responsibility for the product’s kashrus.

13. It is common Ashkenazic practice not to do laundry during the Nine Days and to wait until the afternoon of the 10th of Av to resume. If you’re going away on vacation the morning of the 10th, may you do laundry after the fast ends?

A. No, and there is no heter at all.

B. Depends if you have small children

C. Only if you abstain from eating meat and listening to music until the 11th of Av

D. Yes

Answer: D

As explained in Sefer Ahalech B’amitecha by Rabbi Betzalel Stern (p. 352), while the custom is to avoid doing laundry on the morning of the 10th of Av, many early posekim only extended restrictions to meat and wine. When there’s a genuine need—such as preparing for travel—it’s permissible to rely on the lenient opinions. For further discussion on the topic, see footnote 66 in the source cited.

How did you score?

3–5 correct: Go back to yeshivah.

5–10 correct: Not bad. But if you have any interest in globetrotting, we suggest you brush up on your kosher travel skills. More than 10 correct: Excellent. Bon Voyage!

WHAT’S THE TRUTH ABOUT. . .

SAYING G-D’S NAME IN THE COURSE OF TORAH STUDY?

By Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky

MISCONCEPTION: One should avoid saying G-d’s Name when not saying it during Torah reading or in prayer. Thus, it should not be said when teaching someone to say a berachah, when reading a berachah or a Biblical verse while learning, e.g., in Gemara, or when singing zemirot

FACT: One may, and in some cases maybe even must, say G-d’s Name when teaching a berachah, reciting a verse or singing zemirot

Background: Unnecessarily saying G-d’s Name is a serious offense,1 a wrongdoing that might even be included in the Ten Commandments (Shemot 20:7): “Do not take the Name of G-d, your L-rd, in vain.” There are various interpretations of what “vain” means in this verse. Rashi cites the Gemara (Shevuot 21a) that it refers specifically to a false or trivial oath, such as swearing that an obviously marble pillar is gold (or that it is marble).2 The Ramban says it also includes frivolous, nonswearing mentions of G-d’s Name.3

The Gemara (Berachot 33a) says: “Anyone who utters an ‘unnecessary’ berachah violates the prohibition of ‘Do not take . . . .’” An example of an “unnecessary” berachah is when someone knows he is not finished eating but nonetheless bentches and then recites another berachah and continues eating. There is a debate about how to understand this gemara. Rambam (Hilchot Berachot 1:15 and Hilchot Shevuot 12:9) and Shulchan Aruch (OC 215:4) take it at face

Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky is a professor of neuroscience at Bar-Ilan University in Israel.

value and maintain that an “unnecessary” berachah is tantamount to a false oath and is Biblically prohibited and that one who hears it may not respond “amen.” Therefore, a person may not recite two blessings when one suffices, and one who is unsure if he is obligated in a berachah should not recite it. On the other hand, Tosafot (Rosh Hashanah 33a, s.v. ha) and Magen Avraham (OC 215:6) states that an “unnecessary” berachah is “only” a rabbinic prohibition, and the Gemara quotes this pasuk as support but not as a source.4

The Gemara (Temurah 4a) finds in the beginning of Devarim 6:13 (“The L-rd, G-d, you should revere . . .”) a warning not to say G-d’s Name purposelessly. Rambam (Shevuot 12:11), in codifying the prohibition of needlessly saying G-d’s Name, offers another source. He says: “It is not only a false oath that is forbidden. Rather, to merely mention one of the [seven (see Rambam, Yesodei HaTorah 6:2)] special Names of G-d needlessly is prohibited even without taking an oath, as the verse (Devarim 28:58) commands and says: ‘. . . to fear this glorious and awesome Name . . .’ and included in fearing it is not to mention it in vain.”

Sefer HaChinuch (430, end) illustrates from the story of Shimshon just how careful previous generations were in refraining from using G-d’s Name. Shimshon repeatedly refused Delilah’s requests to reveal his secret, which frustrated her. But as soon as he said (Shoftim 16:17) that he was a “nazir to G-d,” she knew he was telling the truth because he had used G-d’s Name, a rare occurrence (Sotah 9b).

There is a continuum when it comes to instances of saying G-d’s Name— ranging from situations where it is clearly permitted or even required, such as during prayer, 5 Torah reading and the study of Tanach, to situations where it is clearly and seriously prohibited, such as swearing falsely using G-d’s Name. The more complex questions arise in the cases that fall between these extremes— such as when teaching someone to recite a berachah, encountering a pasuk while learning Gemara, or singing zemirot 6

Teaching Berachot

The question of mentioning G-d’s Name in the course of teaching someone to recite a berachah is relevant to both the teacher and the student. Rambam (Berachot 1:15) and, in his footsteps, the Shulchan Aruch (OC 215:3) rule7 that children are taught to say berachot using the full text even though it thus might appear that they are reciting blessings in vain. From the Rambam it might sound as if it is only the children who are permitted to say G-d’s name when learning. The Mishnah Berurah (215:14) clarifies that even the teacher is permitted to recite the berachot in full so that the children will learn how to properly fulfill the mitzvah.8 Rabbi

Moshe Feinstein (Iggerot Moshe, OC 2:56) says that the same logic applies to teaching an adult to properly recite berachot, and so one teaching an adult should properly say G-d’s Name while doing so.

Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach (Halichot Shlomo, Tefillah, chap. 22, n. 70 [p. 266]) was asked regarding teaching mentally handicapped teenagers to say berachot, and he ruled that here too the teacher may say G-d’s Name.9

Text of Berachot and Prayers in the Course of

Study

The above refers to learning how to properly recite a berachah. However, when studying a berachah as part of broader Torah learning—where the goal is to understand its laws, meaning and details, rather than to acquire the skill of recitation—the halachah is more stringent according to some authorities.

The Magen Avraham (Machatzit Hashekel, OC 215:5), Chida (Birkei Yosef, OC 215:4) and Mishnah Berurah (215:14) all rule that when studying about berachot in the Gemara, one should not pronounce G-d’s Name.

Rabbi Reuven Margaliot (Nefesh Chayah 215:3) ruled similarly.

Not everyone agrees—Rabbi Yaakov Emden (She’eilat Ya’avetz 1:81 [second responsum]) rejects the Magen Avraham’s arguments and contends that even while studying the topic of berachot in the Gemara, one should articulate G-d’s Name, and he brings support for this position. In his conclusion, he reiterates that one not only may but should read aloud the berachot with G-d’s name, and furthermore he opines that it is so obvious that there is no need to bring proofs.

Rabbi Emden’s position provides a halachic way to “sneak in” a berachah or prayer in cases of uncertainty about whether it may be recited. Some examples where this was suggested:

The Shiltei HaGiborim (Berachot, chap. 3) suggests that a talmid chacham can “study” Chullin 93b in order to recite Kedushah even without a minyan. Rabbi Chaim Gottlieb (Shu”t Yagel Yaakov, OC 60) recounts that when he wished to recite Kiddush Levanah past the permissible time according to some opinions, he followed the suggestion

of Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech Spira of Dinov, the Bnei Yissaschar, in Derech Pikudecha, and read the berachah from the Gemara (Sanhedrin 42a). The Avnei Nezer (OC 383:10) proposed that a sick person who can’t eat a kezayit (olivesized portion) of maror should study Rambam’s Hilchot Seder, and when he gets to the laws about reciting a berachah on maror, he should recite the berachah with G-d’s Name and then eat whatever maror he is capable of eating. Rabbi Tzvi Pesach Frank (Hadrat Kodesh, Nisuin 16) reports that when Rabbi Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld was uncertain about reciting sheva berachot, he would study the relevant passages in the Gemara and recite them (Ketubot 8a), thereby avoiding the concern about making a berachah levatalah. Rabbi Yitzchak Halevi Herzog (Heichal Yitzchak, OC 60) suggested that at the modern Hakhel (a once-every-seven-years gathering) ceremony, the berachah on the Torah reading can be said with G-d’s Name by studying Rambam’s Hilchot Tefillah (12:4). Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef (Yabia Omer 6, OC 38:2, and 10, YD:22) strongly rejected Rabbi Herzog’s suggestion and other such attempts to recite berachot by studying the relevant passages.10

Indeed, the position of Rabbi Emden regarding saying G-d’s Name in berachot in rabbinic texts was rejected by the twentieth century’s leading posekim: Rav Moshe (Iggerot Moshe, OC 2:56), Rabbi Eliezer Waldenberg (Tzitz Eliezer 13:1) and Rav Ovadiah (Yabia Omer 3, OC 14).

Biblical Verses in Other Contexts

What happens when encountering a verse in the Talmud or other rabbinic texts? The Gemara (Berachot 22a) discusses a specific type of impure person not mentioning G-d’s Name in the course of studying until he purifies himself. From this, and from the Maharsha’s commentary on it (ibid., s.v. shehayah), it would appear that—aside from someone who is impure—it is permitted to pronounce G-d’s Name when encountering a verse while studying a rabbinic text. Rabbi Emden indeed understood it that way (1:81) and relates that although teachers of young children do not encourage saying G-d’s Name in the course of learning, they are making a mistake. He reports

that when he would learn Gemara with his father, Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch Ashkenazi (d. 1718), the Chacham Tzvi, and come upon a verse and use a "nickname" for G-d’s Name as he had been taught by his teachers, his father would get upset and tell him to read G-d’s Name as one reads from the Torah. He emphatically insists that this is not considered saying G-d’s Name in vain, and that indeed this is an integral aspect of studying Torah and is not only permitted but imperative. So too, Rabbi Eliyahu Guttmacher (d. 1874; in his glosses to Berachot 6a, printed in the back of the masechta) states that he agrees with the Shelah that it is a mitzvah to say G-d’s Name during learning.

Regarding Biblical verses, the widespread position is that it is permitted to say G-d’s Name when learning them. The Peri Megadim (OC, Eshel Avraham 215:5) and Mishnah Berurah (215:14) both agree that when reading verses as part of Torah study, one may pronounce G-d’s Name. Similarly, Rabbi Reuven Margaliot (Nefesh Chayah 215:3), who prohibits saying G-d’s Name when encountering a berachah during learning, permits it when quoting a verse.

Rav Moshe (Iggerot Moshe, OC 2:56) says that when encountering a verse in learning, if it is a complete verse, one must say G-d’s Name because otherwise it leads to violating the prohibition of parsing a verse not in its intended manner (Ta’anit 27b); if it is not a complete verse, one may say it.11

The Aruch Hashulchan (OC 215:2) says that a person delivering a derashah who quotes a pasuk should not say G-d’s Name, but rather “Hashem” or “Elokeinu.”12 He notes that there are those who permit saying G-d’s Name while delivering a sermon but he thinks it is better to avoid it, and he states that this is what he does.13

The Tur (OC 621) records a debate regarding the quoting of Vayikra 16:30 during the Yom Kippur Avodah (e.g., p. 560 in ArtScroll machzor): Rabbi Saadia Gaon maintains that although the Kohen Gadol pronounced G-d’s Name when reciting the verse, we should not do so when describing the Avodah. In contrast, Rabbi Yitzchak ibn Giat (Ritz Giat) holds that since it is a verse being recited, there is no issue with saying

G-d’s Name. The Beit Yosef notes that the practice follows Ritz Giat. Rav Ovadiah (Yabia Omer 3:14:5) cites the Ritz Giat’s position as support for the permissibility of saying G-d’s Name when learning pesukim in the Gemara.

Zemirot

Singing zemirot, which often include G-d’s Name in the lyrics or as part of a pasuk, can be viewed as a form of praise to G-d, and the question arises whether G-d’s Name may be said. The Chida (Chaim Sha’al 2:38:70) says that in general one can say G-d’s Name in songs, and he finds support for that from Tehillim 33:1. Rav Ovadiah (Yechaveh Da’at 2:5) brings various proofs that the Name may indeed be said. However, he cautions that it should be pronounced correctly— with milra (emphasis on the final syllable, the nun)—and care should be taken that the tune does not lead to a mispronunciation with mil’eil (emphasis on the initial syllable, the dalet). Similarly, Rabbi Ben Tzion Abba Shaul (Ohr L’Tzion 2:14, n. 35) ruled that in zemirot such as “Tzur Mishelo,” G-d’s Name may be said. He, too, says that one must be careful that the tune not lead to G-d’s Name being pronounced incorrectly, e.g., being split so it sounds like two words. Rabbi Dov Lior (Devar Chevron 3, YD 169:3) says that it is permitted to say G-d’s Name in zemirot and certainly if it is quoting a Biblical verse. He too expressed concern about the tune and says that G-d’s Name should not be repeated. He also suggests that when writing new songs, one should avoid including G-d’s Name. In practice, Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach would say G-d’s Name in the classical Shabbat zemirot (Halichot Shlomo, Moadim, Nissan, chap. 1, n. 64). Rav Ovadiah (Yabia Omer 6, OC 11), in the context of proving that the Sephardi pronunciation of the kamatz and patach vowels of G-d’s Name is correct, cites the rhyme of “barchu emunai” and “kidvar Adoshem” in the zemer “Tzur Mishelo.” This rhyme works only if one pronounces G-d’s Name while singing the zemer, something Rav Ovadiah seems to take as a given. Rabbi Betzalel Stern (B’tzel Hachochmah 4:52:5) agrees that the basic halachah is that one may say G-d’s Name

when giving praise, but the custom today, he says, is to refrain from it, as we will likely not have the proper intentions and awe while saying the Name. Rav Moshe is quoted as saying (Mesoret Moshe, vol. 2, p. 53) that in singing zemirot, one can certainly say G-d’s Name, and even if one repeats words, it is okay, although it is better to repeat the entire sentence. Nonetheless, he personally only said G-d’s Name if it was part of a Biblical verse being quoted in the zemer.

Conclusion

A corollary to “fear G-d” is “to fear His Name,” and that includes not mentioning Shem Hashem in vain or for no reason, and when rightfully mentioning it, to do so with reverence. Defining what the proper circumstances are in which to say it is subject to debate, but there are areas of general agreement. The Maharsha (Berachot 6a, Chiddushei Aggadot) says that G-d “gave permission” to mention His Name in the course of studying Torah. Rav Ovadiah concludes his lengthy treatment of this subject (Yabia Omer 3, OC 14:11 and Yechaveh Da’at 3:13) with the exhortation that when coming across G-d’s Name in a verse while learning, one should14 say it and should not be “machmir” by avoiding pronouncing it. This is true even if it is not a complete pasuk; He also states that one should say it even when quoting a verse in a public discourse. However, one should not say G-d’s Name in the text of berachot that one encounters while learning. And he ends by invoking the Divine blessing (Shemot 20:21): “. . . in every place where I cause My Name to be mentioned, I will come unto thee and bless thee.”

Notes

1. See Kitzur Shulchan Aruch 6:3–5 and Chayei Adam 5:1 with Nishmat Adam See also Nedarim 8b, which applies the berachah of Malachi 3:20 to those who are fearful of expressing the Divine Name in vain, and Ben Yehoyada’s explanation of what circumstances it refers to.

2. This also seems to be how Onkelos understands it.

3. She’iltot (Yitro 53) sees this verse as the source for a general prohibition of unnecessarily uttering G-d’s Name.

4. Rav Ovadiah Yosef (Yabia Omer 2, YD 5) references this debate when analyzing

what a person should do if after eating meat, he accidentally made a berachah on dairy and then realized his error before ingesting. See also Shu”t Rabbi Akiva Eiger 25.

5. The Chazon Ish, OC 137:5 (at the very end) implies that a person may even compose an individual prayer with G-d’s Name and can say G-d’s Name in that prayer as long as it is not a berachah Rabbi Betzalel Stern (B’tzel Hachochmah 4:52:5) agrees in principle but thinks such mentions of G-d’s Name should be minimized.

6. An interesting instance not discussed in detail in this article is the use of G-d’s Name in a salutation. The Gemara (Makkot 23b) explains that greeting another using G-d’s Name was a novel, revolutionary rabbinic enactment that received Divine approval: “There are three matters that the earthly court implemented, and the heavenly court agreed with them . . . greeting another with the Name of G-d, . . . .” For example, Boaz and his workers exchanged such a greeting (Ruth 2:4): “And, behold, Boaz came from Beit Lechem, and he said to the harvesters: ‘The L-rd be with you!’ And they responded to him: ‘May the L-rd bless you.’” It may then have become standard (cf. Berachot 54b; Rambam’s commentary to Mishnah Berachot 9:5), and indeed the normative “Shalom aleichem” may be using “Shalom” not as the word for peace but as one of G-d’s Names (see Shabbat 10b).

7. Based on Berachot 53b.

8. Kaf HaChaim (OC 215:18) says that if possible, one should avoid it.

9. He also ruled that every community is obligated to set up an educational system for mentally handicapped children, even if there are only a few of them.

10. It should be noted that most of these suggestions were made in the context of other reasons to be lenient and recite the berachah, and Rabbi Emden’s position was not the sole basis to make the berachah.

11. He says that when teaching young children, it is permitted to stop midsentence, and the teacher is not required to say G-d’s Name. Although it is still permitted to say it, it is better not to.

12. It might be that he was referring to a speaker quoting by heart rather than from a text, and perhaps (although he does not say it explicitly) he would distinguish between the two.

13. It is reported that the Steipler (Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky) would avoid saying G-d’s Name while learning, even if he said the entire verse (Horowitz, Orchot Rabbeinu [1991], 1:240).

14. In his summary in Yechaveh Da’at 3:13, he calls it a mitzvah.

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THE CHEF’S TABLE

Juicy Fruits: Enjoying the Sweets of Summer

By Naomi Ross

After a long winter of bananas, apples and oranges, the entry of luscious summer fruits seems like the sunny-sweet hug we’ve all been waiting for. Seasonal berries, peaches, plums, nectarines and cherries are a fleeting pleasure of summer, sugary and juicy with little need for adornment. They are fleeting because they are far more perishable and don’t last as long as other “sturdier” fruits, so try to enjoy them when they are at their best. Summer fruits can boast their “fruitritional” benefits as well. Berries and cherries are quite the powerhouse when it comes to antioxidant cancerfighting qualities as well as being antiinflammatory. Berries are also super rich in Vitamin C. Nectarines are good sources of lycopene and lutein, phytochemicals that are especially beneficial in the prevention of heart disease, macular degeneration and cancer. Whether just for snacking or enhancing a dish, incorporate the best of summer into your menus and meals.

Chef’s Note

Capture the sweetness of summer’s bounty by freezing or preserving fruit. To freeze: wash, slice and pit (or hull) fruit, spread in an even single layer on a sheet pan. Place in freezer. When completely frozen, transfer to zip-top freezer bags to store.

Yields 4 servings

The origins of the Italian Panzanella salad were as a brilliant way to repurpose day-old bread that was too hard to serve. The crusty rustic bread would stand up to being soaked in tomato juices without becoming soggy. In this modern summer take on Panzanella, I have replaced the tomatoes altogether with fingerstaining Bing cherries for a “sweet vs. savory” salad treat. For best results, use good-quality day-old bread to maintain a bite even when soaked in the dressing.

Chef’s Note

A cherry or olive pitter is a helpful tool in preparing the fresh cherries for this salad.

12 ounces Bing cherries, pitted and halved

3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1 tablespoon sugar

4 cups cubed stale rustic bread, crusts removed if very hard

½ cup extra virgin olive oil, divided

1 garlic clove, crushed

1 teaspoon Kosher salt

Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

¼ red onion, thinly sliced ¼ cup basil leaves, torn

4–5 big handfuls of baby arugula ¼ cup crumbled goat cheese or feta cheese (optional)

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Put the cherries in a mixing bowl. Add vinegar and sugar and toss to blend and coat; allow to sit for 20–30 minutes.

Put the bread cubes on a cookie sheet and toss with 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil. Bake until crunchy and lightly browned, about 11–13 minutes.

Meanwhile, drain the cherries and transfer to a large serving bowl, reserving the accumulated balsamic liquid. In a separate bowl, combine the reserved liquid, garlic, salt, mustard and black pepper; whisk to blend. While continuously whisking, slowly drizzle the remaining olive oil (a little less than 1/3 cup) into the bowl until well blended and emulsified.

Season to taste with more salt or pepper as needed (alternatively, this can be done in the blender).

Naomi Ross is a cooking instructor and food writer based in Woodmere, New York. She teaches classes throughout the country and writes articles connecting good cooking and Jewish inspiration. She is the author of The Giving Table (New York, 2022).

Sweet Cherry Panzanella Salad

Strawberry Rhubarb “Pop-Tarts.”

Photos: Baila Gluck

Strawberry Rhubarb “Pop-Tarts”

Yields 9 large hand pies

Better than any packaged Pop-Tart, these homemade hand pies are the perfect breakfast pastry. Using a cream cheese pastry dough gives a flaky tenderness and helps with browning during a shorter baking time than a conventional pie requires. The filling can be left as “chunky” or pureed into a thick jam (also delicious by itself on toast!).

Do Ahead: Filling can be made up to a week in advance. Making it a day prior gives ample time for the filling to set and thicken.

Pastry Dough:

1 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, room temperature

1 cup butter (2 sticks), room temperature

2¼ cups all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons sugar

½ teaspoon salt

1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)

Strawberry-Rhubarb Filling:

1½ cups hulled strawberries, sliced

1½ cups chopped fresh or frozen unthawed rhubarb

½ cup sugar

½ teaspoon ground ginger

Juice of ½ orange

¼ cup water

1 tablespoon cornstarch

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Icing:

1½ cups powdered sugar

2 tablespoons milk

¼ teaspoon vanilla extract

Optional: Pink sugar or pink sprinkles, for decorating

Prepare the dough: Beat cream cheese and butter together in a large mixing bowl with electric mixer or mixing spoon. Add flour, sugar and salt. Mix until the dough clumps together. Knead, giving the dough a few turns until it comes together into a firm dough.

Divide in two and shape into two rectangles; wrap in plastic wrap and chill for at least 1 hour, until firm. Meanwhile make the filling.

Filling: Bring strawberries, rhubarb, sugar, ginger and orange juice to a boil over medium heat in a medium saucepan. Lower heat to simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until the juices are released and the rhubarb becomes soft and tender, about 15–20 minutes.

In a small bowl, whisk together the water and cornstarch until dissolved; pour into the fruit mixture. Cook for another 2–3 minutes until thickened. Remove from heat. Add in the vanilla and mash fruit with a potato masher or use an immersion blender if smooth consistency is desired. Cool completely before filling (can be made ahead).

Assembly: Arrange oven rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Working on a lightly floured surface, use a lightly floured rolling pin to roll out half the dough to form a large rectangle (about 12 inches x 15 inches), about ¼-inch thick. Using the tip of a sharp knife, trim edges of dough for neatness. Cut dough in thirds both lengthwise and crosswise to create 9 equal smaller rectangles (approximately 4 inches x 5 inches each). Repeat with other half of dough.

Place 1 heaping tablespoon of filling in the center of each rectangle from the first batch of rolled out dough. Brush perimeter of each rectangle with egg wash, then cover with a second rectangle to form a packet. Crimp edges with a fork to seal. Carefully transfer hand pies to prepared baking sheet. Brush tops with egg wash. Prick each with fork to allow steam to vent during baking. Bake pastries until tops and bottoms are golden brown, about 25 minutes. Let cool for 10 minutes on baking sheet. Transfer to wire racks; let cool completely before icing.

Icing: Whisk together icing ingredients in a small bowl and spoon over cooled pop tarts. Sprinkle with pink sugar or sprinkles to decorate, if desired.

Fresh Blueberry Filling/Sauce

Yields about 1½ cups

A perfect way to preserve blueberries and the perfect filling or topping for blintzes, Greek yogurt, ice cream or cheesecake! Consult the OU Manual for Checking Fruits & Vegetables for instructions on how to check blueberries for insects, https://oukosher.org/ouguide-to-checking-produce-and-more/.

Chef’s Note

Can be made up to 1 week in advance or can be frozen for 3 months. Make ahead if using as a filling to allow time for sauce to chill and thicken.

1 pint blueberries, rinsed and picked over Zest (about ½ teaspoon) and juice (about 1 tablespoon) from ½ lemon ¼ cup water plus 3 tablespoons, divided 2–3 tablespoons sugar (or more to taste)

¼ teaspoon cinnamon 1 tablespoon cornstarch

Combine blueberries, lemon zest, lemon juice, ¼ cup water, sugar and cinnamon in a small saucepan. Mix to blend. Place saucepan over medium heat and bring to a boil. Cook for about 10 minutes, or until juices are released and become bubbly.

In the meantime, combine remaining 3 tablespoons water with cornstarch in a small bowl, whisking until cornstarch is dissolved.

Slowly pour cornstarch mixture into sauce and stir continuously, cooking for 1–2 minutes or until mixture becomes thickened. Season to taste for sweetness, adding more sugar as desired. Remove from heat and allow to cool. Transfer sauce to a storage container and refrigerate (sauce will thicken as it chills).

delicious and yet can be tricky to execute with thin fillets or delicate white-fleshed fish. Follow the steps below for perfectly seared fish every time! Nectarine–Black Bean Salsa is a perfectly refreshing accompaniment.

Fish:

6 fillets tilapia or red snapper

Kosher salt, to taste

Freshly ground pepper, to taste

1–2 tablespoons flour or cornstarch, for dusting

2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided

Nectarine–Black Bean Salsa:

2 large nectarines, pitted and diced

¾ cup (½ 15-ounce can) canned black beans, drained and rinsed

½ yellow pepper, diced

½ medium red onion, minced

1 small jalapeño pepper, seeded and minced

2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro

1 teaspoon finely grated lime zest

1 tablespoon rice vinegar

2½ tablespoons orange juice

½ teaspoon Kosher salt, or more to taste

Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Prepare Salsa: Combine all the salsa ingredients in a bowl and stir to blend. Season to taste with salt and freshly ground pepper. Set aside (chill if making ahead).

Dust: Pat fish dry and season with salt and pepper to taste on both sides of fish. Dust fish lightly with flour (or cornstarch) on both sides (a sifter or fine sieve works great for this!).

Sear: Heat 2 teaspoons of oil in a large skillet over high heat. Place 2–3 fillets of fish in pan (as they fit in pan).

Pan-Seared Fish with Nectarine–Black Bean Salsa

Seared fish, with its crusty-crispy exterior and tender flesh, is so

To prevent sticking and tearing the fish, do not flip fillets until a nicely browned crust has formed on the bottom, about 2–3 minutes (leave it alone if it is not ready to release for turning). Flip fillets over and cook for another 2–3 minutes until golden and just cooked through. Transfer to a plate; repeat with remaining fish.

Serve each piece of fish topped with a spoonful of Nectarine–Black Bean Salsa. Garnish with fresh lime wedges.

NEW FROM OU PRESS

The Eternal Conversation

By Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

OU Press, NCSY, and Maggid Books

The Gemara (Bava Batra 14b) discusses why the twelve “minor prophets” are grouped together as one book, instead of being included separately in the Bible in their proper chronological order. The Gemara explains that they are not included separately because “since they are small, they would be lost.” The Eternal Conversation consists of a collection of pamphlets authored by the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks which, had they not been joined together in one book, may have suffered that same fate. These pamphlets were originally published during Rabbi Sacks’ lifetime as “Letters to the Next Generation,” “Little Books of Big Questions,” “Ten Days, Ten Ways” and “A Judaism Engaged with the World.”

Of course, Judaism is demanding. There are so many laws, so many details, that you can sometimes lose sight of the big picture. It’s like the first French impressionists. At first people could see only brushstrokes and confusion. It took time before they realised that Monet, Renoir, Pissarro, and the rest were capturing the play of light on surfaces and producing a whole new way of seeing. Judaism can look like a blur of laws and customs, until you realise that it’s a whole new way of living. Halakha, Jewish law, is about translating the highest of ideals into the simplest of acts.

The “Little Books of Big Questions” section is based on actual dialogues between Rabbi Sacks and university students, and it addresses pressing contemporary issues, such as the resurgence of antisemitism, Israel’s ongoing search for peace, and the challenges of maintaining Jewish identity in a diverse society. Rabbi Sacks does not shy away from controversy. His thoughtful responses illuminate the complexity of these topics while offering clear guidance rooted in Jewish wisdom. Helpfully, each essay concludes with recommendations for further reading, giving insight into Rabbi Sacks’s own voracious book consumption.

These concise writings offer Rabbi Sacks’s wisdom in a digestible format that could be enjoyed as a companion to synagogue services and as an entrée for teens and young adults seeking to access the world of Jewish thought through Rabbi Sacks’s gifted pen. One of the most compelling aspects of Rabbi Sacks’s writing is his ability to synthesize timeless philosophical ideas with contemporary realities. In the “Letters” section, Rabbi Sacks offers tender and poignant wisdom encapsulated in correspondence-style reflections addressed to future generations. These letters compellingly argue for values over materialism, proposing that true happiness and fulfillment derive from the pursuit of meaning, community and spiritual integrity. To give one example: In a letter “On Being Jewish,” Rabbi Sacks writes: Judaism is as relevant today as it ever was. Non-Jews admire Judaism for our strong families and communities, our commitment to education and the excellence of our schools, the emphasis we place on hesed and tzedaka, on practical acts of kindness and generosity. The Jewish voice is sought on questions of medical, social, and business ethics. People respect Judaism for its wisdom and insight. It has integrity without fanaticism. It has strong principles without seeking to impose them on others. It has humour and humanity.

In “Ten Days, Ten Ways,” Rabbi Sacks presents a series of readings of classical sources on themes relating to cultivating a deeper spiritual life, aligning with the introspective themes of the Jewish High Holy Days. In his introductions to each section, Rabbi Sacks provides accessible yet profound advice on prayer, Torah study and fulfillment of mitzvot, underscoring their role in fostering a meaningful and purposeful Jewish life.

The volume closes with Rabbi Sacks’s essay “A Judaism Engaged with the World,” his farewell address upon retiring from the chief rabbinate. In it, he encourages readers to embrace their Jewish identity while emphasizing the imperative to contribute positively to broader society. Rabbi Sacks highlights the concept of kiddush Hashem, sanctifying G-d’s name through ethical living, offering powerful insights into how Jews can navigate modernity while remaining true to their heritage.

The integration of these different elements results in a book fittingly titled The Eternal Conversation, a volume that succeeds in capturing the essence of Rabbi Sacks’s profound vision. In his foreword to the volume, NCSY’s Rabbi Gideon Black reminds readers that “not all conversations have everlasting impact. Many conversations are lost to the winds of time, with their ideas fading before taking root.” This book of Rabbi Sacks’s characteristically eloquent insights is a testament to his extraordinary legacy and ensures that his teachings will remain a valuable resource for anyone seeking to understand Judaism’s enduring relevance.

THE GREAT Z’MANIM DEBATE The History, the Science, and the Lomdus

By Rabbi Ahron Notis Mosaica Press

Beit Shemesh, Israel, 2022 188 pages

Reviewed by Rabbi Yaakov Hoffman

Everyone seems to have an opinion on zemanim, but few truly understand the subject.

Rabbi Ahron Notis, a rebbi in Mayan Hatalmud Yeshiva in Lakewood, New Jersey, and a researcher for ArtScroll Publications, has provided an erudite guide to elucidate this topic both in terms of halachah and metzius (scientific reality).

He presents astronomic terms and concepts clearly, explaining and illustrating how the understanding of celestial phenomena has developed from

the times of Chazal until the present day. Despite being involved in the subject of zemanim for years, I found that the scientific portion of the book deepened my understanding of the history and terminology.

Rabbi Notis emphasizes the importance of an accurate grasp of scientific reality as a prerequisite to issuing halachic rulings. For example, he rightly notes that calendars and apps must calculate zemanim, such as alos hashachar (dawn) and tzeis hakochavim (nightfall), using solar depression angles (“degrees”). Unlike using a fixed amount of time before sunrise or after sunset, this method approximates observation and accounts for fluctuations in the rate that day breaks and night falls.1 However, the book’s tone when discussing the lack of scientific knowledge of previous generations (and some contemporary rabbis) is unnecessarily harsh. It is also disconcerting that Rabbi Notis presents his halachic rulings as the final word in accurate zemanim; in fact, some of his halachic positions are arguable.

The book’s most significant halachic formulation is an unequivocal calculation for the much-debated zeman of tzeis hakochavim, the appearance of three medium-sized stars, which heralds the onset of night and hence the new halachic day. The Talmud states that bein hashemashos (the transitionary period between day and night) begins when the sun sets; definitive nightfall occurs after the amount of time that it takes to walk three-quarters of a mil (Shabbos 34b).

Rabbi Notis is confident that the mil is 22 ½ minutes;2 therefore, nightfall

occurs 16 ⅞ minutes after sunset. The Vilna Gaon writes that this refers to Eretz Yisrael at the equinox (Biur HaGra, Orach Chaim 261); at that time, the sun is 4.37 degrees below the horizon, and one can use that figure to extrapolate the time of tzeis for any location and season. By this reckoning, tzeis hakochavim in New York is never later than 23 minutes after sunset, even at the height of summer.

Rabbi Notis’s calculation follows the trend of some contemporary scholars to determine the time for tzeis hakochavim based on its relationship to sunset.3 However, this is a departure from the traditional approach. Before the advent of clocks, calendars and light pollution, Jews determined the time of nightfall first and foremost by visual perception of three stars.4 Tzeis was the central zeman; other zemanim were determined in relation to it, not vice versa.

Rabbi Notis acknowledges that it is very difficult to see three stars at -4.37 degrees; it is generally only possible if one has excellent eyesight and knows in advance where to look. While some sources do indicate that a certain amount of skill is required to see the three stars the moment they appear, there is nevertheless no evidence that any Jewish community before the contemporary era ever considered

Rabbi Yaakov Hoffman is the rabbi of Washington Heights Congregation (“The Bridge Shul”) in New York City. He works as a rabbinic coordinator for OU Kosher and associate editor of OU Press.

Before the advent of clocks, calendars and light pollution, Jews determined the time of nightfall first and foremost by visual perception of three stars.

tzeis hakochavim to be as early as -4.37 degrees.5 This was true even in Eretz Yisrael and the surrounding areas, where residents could theoretically have simply waited three-quarters of a mil after sunset at the equinox without recourse to astronomic calculations.

It is also worth noting that the Shulchan Aruch, following earlier authorities, rules that when a Biblical precept is at stake, one must, as an extra precaution, wait until the appearance of three small stars (OC 235:1). On Motzaei Shabbos, the requirement of tosefes Shabbos necessitates waiting until these small stars appear adjacent to each other in the sky (293:2). Based on this, contemporary calendars generally present -8.5 degrees as the standard time to end Shabbos; this is approximately when melachah was resumed after Shabbos in prewar Europe and other communities. Perhaps Rabbi Notis believes that his calculations render the precaution of waiting for small stars obsolete, but it is no small thing to chop off time from Shabbos as practiced for generations.6

Another reason to question Rabbi Notis’s zeman for tzeis is that the onset of bein hashemashos may not correspond exactly to what we call sunset. Although we associate sunset with the disappearance of the ball of the sun below the horizon, some have argued that Talmudic sunset refers to the sun’s light, not its body, and takes place a bit later.7 If true, this thesis would confirm that tzeis hakochavim cannot be calculated as three-quarters of a mil after what we call sunset.

Furthermore, as Rabbi Notis himself points out (p. 86), the Gemara does not explicitly say that it is tzeis hakochavim

that occurs after three-quarters of a mil; rather, the event that occurs at that time is “when the upper part of the sky darkens and equates to the lower.” This is nightfall according to Rabbi Yehudah; Rabbi Yose maintains that nightfall is a bit later.8 While most assume that the difference between the opinions of these two Tannaim is minimal, it would still have been worthwhile to analyze their disagreement more clearly, as well as to discuss whether the phenomenon of “the upper part of the sky darkens and equates to the lower” actually takes place at -4.37 degrees.

Rabbi Notis notes that the exact solar depression angle at which three stars appear fluctuates based on location and season; he explains that the Gemara gave the measurement of three-quarters of a mil as a time that we can be sure three stars have appeared. The suggestion that tzeis could actually occur before -4.37 degrees is remarkable.9 What if, on Motzaei Shabbos, one personally sees three stars early, but one’s neighbor is not looking and plans to rely on the time listed in the luach for -4.37 degrees? Would Rabbi Notis permit the stargazer to end Shabbos and concurrently allow the calendar-user to still begin seudah shelishis? Perhaps the precise nature of the three-quarter–mil figure has not yet been fully understood;10 in any event, both tradition and logic consider observation primary and the mil measurement secondary.

It is noteworthy that Rabbi Notis is much more flexible about the mil times for determining alos hashachar than he is for tzeis. Astronomic dawn occurs when the sun is 18 degrees below the horizon. Rabbi Notis accepts this figure for halachah although it does not

correspond to the Gemara’s figure of four mil before sunrise (unless we assume a different measurement of the mil and/ or a different definition of sunrise— neither of which Rabbi Notis is inclined to do, preferring instead to consider the Gemara’s figure the result of “rounding” [p. 169]).

Rabbi Notis writes with a confidence that implies that virtually all the issues surrounding the interface of astronomy and halachah are now solved; I do not share this certainty. It is beyond the scope of this review to document every point in the book that requires further discussion; most pressing, in my view, is countering the possibility that a reader might come away with a willingness to end Shabbos twenty minutes after sunset. While this book is an invaluable resource to better understand a complex topic, one should take its definitive halachic pronouncements with a grain of salt.

Notes

1. He also correctly argues in favor of shaos zemaniyos being calculated from sunrise to sunset; oddly, however, he ignores one of the most compelling proofs for this, which is that the main instrument for telling time in the period of Chazal was a sundial.

2. Rabbi Notis does not cite the view that there are 40 mil from sunrise to sunset, which would justify the 18-minute mil (see Chazon Ish, OC 13). He also is too quick to dismiss the difficulties that are posed to these figures by the actual amount of time it takes a person to walk a mil (see p. 131). (It should be noted that mil is properly a measurement of distance; the term is also used to describe the amount of time it takes to walk that distance.)

3. See, e.g., Responsa Yabia Omer, OC 7:41.

4. Rabbi Notis completely adopts the narrative that the Geonim and Rabbeinu Tam had diametrically opposed opinions, while at the same time acknowledging that the posekim and communities that followed Rabbeinu Tam determined tzeis by observation of three stars. He does not fully address the conceptual difficulty with this, or cite alternative explanations of Rabbeinu Tam such as those proposed in Yom Valaylah Shel Torah by Rabbi Y.G. Weiss (which Rabbi Notis cites in a different context [p. 159] while ignoring Rabbi Weiss’s main thesis). See also Rabbi M.M. Karp’s monograph in the back of

Mishmeres Shabbos (printed in Hilchos Shabbos B’Shabbos, vol. 4). Even if he disagrees with their arguments, Rabbi Notis should not have glossed over the issues they raise.

5. An ancient Ashkenazic mesorah, based on one reading of the Yerushalmi (Berachos 1:1), holds that the “medium” stars are those that appear close together, which puts tzeis at about -7 degrees. See HaZmanim BaHavanah by Rabbi Hirsch Lampin, chap. 2. In general, Rabbi Notis would have benefited from reading and citing this excellent book.

6. At the end of the book, Rabbi Notis throws in a non sequitur that it is “praiseworthy” to end Shabbos 40–50 minutes after sunset in New York (p. 182), i.e., -8.5 degrees. One wonders what his basis for this statement is when waiting such an amount of time after sunset is double what he requires and contradicts his entire thesis. Of course, I consider this zeman for ending Shabbos not “praiseworthy” but obligatory.

7. See Ohr Meir by Rabbi Meir Posen, and Rabbi Karp’s monograph cited above, n. 4. See also Rabbi Y. Kapach’s commentary to Rambam, Hilchos Shabbos, chap. 5, n. 14. There are some difficulties with this approach as well, but it should at least increase our hesitancy about adopting an early tzeis in contravention of historical practice.

8. Indeed, halachah may fundamentally take the opinion of Rabbi Yose into account (see, e.g., Biur HaGra, OC 261 and Biur Halachah 499, s.v. v’chein, Sha’ar Hatziyun 133:21). Rabbi Notis should therefore not have stated unequivocally that minor fast days end at sunset (p. 182), or that concern for Rabbi Yose is only required at the end of Shabbos (p. 164).

9. Furthermore, if tzeis can actually take place before -4.37 degrees, it is difficult to understand why Rabbi Yose would consider halachic nightfall to take place even later.

10. See the writings of Dr. William Gewirtz, especially https://zemanim. net/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/ postzemanim.pdf, p. 125.

Hakham Tsevi Ashkenazi and the Battlegrounds of the Early Modern Rabbinate

By Rabbi Yosie Levine

The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization 2024

296 pages

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein

Since the 2024 pogrom in Amsterdam cast a grim shadow over the Dutch city’s reputation, this book serves as a poignant reminder of a bygone era when Amsterdam stood as a beacon of religious tolerance. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, this city was a sanctuary for Jews from across Europe and the Ottoman Empire, boasting vibrant Sephardic and Ashkenazic communities. Descendants of Sephardic Jews expelled from the

Iberian Peninsula, Ashkenazic Jews escaping the horrors of the Chmielnicki massacres that started in 1648, and others who had run into trouble in their homelands for various reasons all found a safe haven in Amsterdam. It was within this milieu that Rabbi Tzvi Ashkenazi rose to prominence.

Rabbi Tzvi Ashkenazi (1658–1718) was a rosh yeshivah and (briefly) the chief rabbi of the Ashkenazi community in Amsterdam, and his literary legacy has been cemented by his responsa Chacham Tzvi. In Hakham Tsevi Ashkenazi and the Battlegrounds of the Early Modern Rabbinate, author Rabbi Yosie Levine offers a meticulously researched and highly engaging intellectual biography of Rabbi Ashkenazi, revealing him to be one of the most fascinating figures of early modern Jewish history. Rabbi Levine adeptly situates Rabbi Ashkenazi’s life and works within the broader context of Jewish social, intellectual and rabbinic history.

Rabbi Ashkenazi was raised by an Ashkenazi family living in Ottoman-occupied Old Buda (which later became part of Budapest). His surname was actually Zak (which, the author tells us in the last chapter, is actually an acronym for the Hebrew phrase zera kodesh, “[of] holy seed”). Rabbi Ashkenazi spent much of his early life immersed in Sephardic rabbinic centers elsewhere in the Ottoman Empire (such as Salonica and Constantinople), experiences that informed his unique position at the crossroads of Ashkenazic and Sephardic traditions. In fact, despite his Ashkenazic heritage, Rabbi

Ashkenazi was often referred to with the traditional Sephardic honorific “Chacham,” rather than the more Ashkenazic title “HaRav.” Rabbi Levine unpacks this fascinating aspect of Rabbi Ashkenazi’s dual identity, including the enigmatic samechtet acronym that Rabbi Ashkenazi appended to his signature (which is traditionally interpreted as Sephardi tahor, “pure Sephardi”).

The book excels in its exploration of Rabbi Ashkenazi’s tumultuous tenure as chief rabbi of Amsterdam, where his unyielding stance against Sabbateanism, intermarriage and the encroachments of lay leadership on rabbinic authority placed him at odds with powerful factions within the city. In that context, Rabbi Ashkenazi was not afraid to stand up to the emerging lay leadership, which was growing in influence and increasingly audacious in flouting rabbinic authority.

The author dedicates a particularly compelling and comprehensive chapter to the infamous Nechemiah Chiyya Chayyun (1655–1730) affair, where Rabbi Ashkenazi’s efforts to ostracize a known Sabbatean heretic and ban his books ultimately led to his forced departure from Amsterdam. Although Rabbi Ashkenazi garnered the support of rabbis outside of Amsterdam, the city’s lay leadership and the Sephardic rabbinic leadership supported Chayyun, which eventually forced Rabbi Ashkenazi to flee Amsterdam

Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein is a freelance scholar, author and lecturer living in Beitar Illit, Israel.

for London. These dramatic conflicts are vividly brought to life, illustrating the challenges of maintaining rabbinic authority in a rapidly evolving Jewish Diaspora on the cusp of modernity.

Rabbi Levine does not limit his study to biography alone. He skillfully weaves Rabbi Ashkenazi’s halachic responsa into the narrative, presenting them as windows into the broader “rabbinic republic of letters.” This network connected Jews from London all the way in the west to White Russia (modernday Belarus) and Ukraine in the east, crisscrossing through Amsterdam and Hamburg where Rabbi Ashkenazi served, and including the rest of Germany, Italy and even Crete. Rabbi Ashkenazi’s sphere of rabbinic influence spanned the entirety of Ashkenazic Jewry, and he eventually took up a prestigious rabbinic position in Lemberg (modern-day Lviv, Ukraine) not long before his death in 1718.

As a work that focuses on social and intellectual history, it does not delve much into the technical, stated reasons for Rabbi Ashkenazi’s rulings, but instead emphasizes their broader implications for Jewish communal life and authority. The author contextualizes some of Rabbi Ashkenazi’s halachic responsa, including those dealing with questions as diverse as the permissibility of counting a golem in a minyan, the kashrut of a “heartless” chicken,1 and the observance of two days of yom tov by Diaspora Jews visiting the Holy Land.2 In doing so, Rabbi Levine illustrates how the ramifications of these questions and the ways in which Rabbi Ashkenazi framed the legal discussions still have implications for contemporary times. Recurring issues explored in this book related to the most pressing and contentious debates of Rabbi Ashkenazi’s times continue to resonate in rabbinic discourse today. Rabbi Levine examines the question of when rabbis have the authority to issue halachic rulings on matters that fall outside of their official geographic jurisdiction (especially when those questions were already decided upon by local rabbinic authorities). That question—precipitated by the development of a reliable postal

system—not only shaped communal dynamics in Rabbi Ashkenazi’s time but also affected him personally and raised broader questions about the boundaries of rabbinic influence in a rapidly globalizing Jewish world. The book also grapples with the complexities of adjudicating interrabbinic disputes, highlighting how disagreements over halachic and ideological matters often became flashpoints for larger communal tensions and political power struggles.

Another key issue discussed is the permissibility of disseminating esoteric Kabbalistic teachings to the broader public. This debate, exacerbated by the invention of the printing press which could mass produce books on an unprecedented scale, is situated at the intersection of theology and pedagogy. Rabbi Levine highlights the absence of Kabbalistic sources in the responsa Chacham Tzvi and contrasts this with Chavot Yair, written by Rabbi Ashkenazi’s contemporary Rabbi Chaim Yair Bacharach, whose openness to such sources is evident in his responsa. (Rabbi Levine’s attempt to portray Chacham Tzvi as a proponent of Mishnah study through his use of sources is less compelling.) Essentially, while Rabbi Ashkenazi himself was a master of Kabbalah, he took the view that knowledge of its secrets was not the province of the masses.

Another question explored by this book is the precise definition of what it meant to be a Sabbatean during a period of heightened fear and division within the Jewish world. Rabbi Levine explores the multifaceted nature of this identity, questioning whether a Sabbatean was defined strictly by participation in antinomian practices, by adherence to messianic or Sabbatean ideologies, by social affiliation with known Sabbateans, or even just by financial support of individuals or causes associated with the heretical movement. Through this nuanced discussion, Rabbi Levine illuminates the far-reaching implications of these definitional struggles for both individuals and communities, as well as for the broader fabric of Jewish life in early modern Europe.

This book’s approach makes it both accessible to general readers and

Rabbi Ashkenazi’s efforts to ostracize a known Sabbatean heretic and ban his books ultimately led to his forced departure from Amsterdam.

invaluable to scholars. By drawing on a wealth of duly footnoted and referenced sources, especially the writings of Rabbi Ashkenazi’s son, Rabbi Yaakov Emden (sometimes known as Ya’avetz), Rabbi Levine enriches the narrative with scholarly and historical insights. Ultimately, this work—based on Rabbi Levine’s doctoral dissertation in Jewish history at Yeshiva University—is a masterful feat of writing, blending scholarly rigor with readability. It paints a vivid portrait of a towering rabbinic figure and his turbulent times, while drawing connections to enduring challenges in contemporary Jewish communal life. This reviewer sincerely hopes that Rabbi Levine will continue to produce more intellectual biographies of the gedolim of yesteryear in the same style.

Notes

1. Regarding these two responsa, see also Maoz Kahana, A Heartless Chicken: Religion and Science in Early Modern Rabbinic Culture (Bialik Institute, 2021) [Hebrew].

2. For a more in-depth exploration of this responsum, see Rabbi Yosie Levine, “Pilgrims’ Progress? Hakham Zevi and the History of Visitors to Israel Observing One Day of Yom Tov,” in Emet leYa’akov: Facing the Truths of History: Essays in Honor of Jacob J. Schacter, eds. Zev Eleff and Shaul Seidler-Feller (Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2023), 421-439.

LETTER AND SPIRIT: Evasion, Avoidance and Workarounds in the Halakhic System

By Rabbi Daniel Z. Feldman Maggid Books

Jerusalem 2024

327 pages

Reviewed by Rabbi Moshe Kurtz

One of my heuristics for initially evaluating a work—and one can debate whether it is a fair metric—is to scan through the footnotes and citations contained therein. The author should be able to demonstrate that he has done his homework. Rarely have I been so overawed by the sheer breadth and depth of research in a book as I have been by Rabbi Daniel Feldman’s Letter and Spirit: Evasion, Avoidance and

Workarounds in the Halakhic System

One might be tempted to describe Letter and Spirit as a collection of case studies in ha’aramot (circumventions in the halachic system). But I can imagine Rabbi Feldman heaving a sigh of exasperation at such a characterization. He begins the book by noting that simply defining the term ha’aramah the entire theme of the book—is already a fraught endeavor:

The subject at hand is one which, in a sense, cannot be named. To name it is to judge it, both collectively and in its parts, and therein lies the challenge that is to be addressed. Terms such as “evasions” or “workarounds” label the user as derelict in responsibility, deficient in commitment, perhaps even on some level dishonest. Similarly, or more so, “subterfuge,” defined as “deceit used in order to achieve one’s goal.” Even worse are terms such as “loophole,” which implies both an oversight by the system—a near-heretical implication when applied to the Divine Torah—and exploitation on the part of the user; or “legal fiction,” which imputes insincerity to both sides. Perhaps some of these negative impressions are justified, perhaps not; either way, usage of these terms prejudges the question and undercuts the investigation before us (Introduction, p. xxi).

Readers have likely pondered both the efficacy and ethics behind a mass sale of chametz prior to Pesach, when the Torah explicitly commands us to destroy it—“tashbitu” (Exodus 12:15). If we have either drafted a will or been bequeathed a family member’s inheritance, we may have wondered how daughters can receive an equivalent allotment to

their brothers, despite the Torah strictly prioritizing the sons. And if we have ever arranged a loan with another Jewish entity, we may have utilized a heter iska in order to obviate the proscription against charging a fellow Jew interest. Workarounds such as the sale of chametz, the shtar zachar shalem for inheritance, and the heter iska for borrowing with interest have engendered a degree of skepticism, and for some, even cynicism, toward the halachic system. A common claim advanced is that if Hillel and the rabbinic establishment could concoct a prozbul document to prevent the dissolution of debt in the seventh year (shemitat kesafim), how is it remotely conscionable that they could not devise a similarly creative method to free countless agunot, women who are chained in functionally dead marriages. It certainly stands to reason that an individual’s ability to obtain a divorce and start the next chapter of her life should take priority over saving someone from disposing his Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal before Pesach or enabling a barbecue during the Nine Days.

Rabbi Moshe Kurtz serves as the rabbi of Congregation Sons of Israel in Allentown, Pennsylvania. He is the author of Challenging Assumptions (Beit Shemesh, Israel, 2023) and hosts the Shu”T First, Ask Questions Later podcast. He writes a regular column called “Unpacking the Iggerot” for TraditionOnline and, G-d willing, will be releasing Meoros Moshe, a Hebrew anthology of Rav Moshe Feinstein on Pirkei Avot.

Rather than simply throwing several disjointed case studies in ha’aramot at us, Rabbi Feldman introduces his own working theory to demonstrate that there is indeed an underlying method to the application of these workarounds. The key conceptual contribution of the book, or chiddush if you will, is his application of a fourpoint questionnaire of criteria for assessing the propriety of a proposed workaround: (A) Does it accord with the letter of the law? (B) Does it accord with the spirit of the law? (C) Is the workaround being enacted sincerely, e.g., are the buyer and seller implementing an effective sale? (D) What is the level of need or urgency? He amusingly illustrates this by writing: It has been joked that the rabbis have prohibited smoking, but still the Orthodox Jews are not concerned; they will simply sell their lungs to a non-Jew. This joke represents a failure of both parts (B) and (C): selling one’s lungs to another would do nothing to protect the seller from the harm of the cigarette smoke; and it would be no kind of a sale, as the lungs would remain in the body and under the active use of the seller (p. 24).

In every instance of potential ha’aramah, the halachic authorities, either consciously or intuitively, balance these four factors. A significant technical hurdle is more likely to be finessed when there is an overriding spirit of the law factor or exigent circumstances at play. It may even be two bona fide Jewish values competing with one another. For instance, the impetus for both prozbul and heter iska can be understood as the enabling of loans to ensure economic opportunities for those possessing lesser financial means. To take an uncompromising letter-of-the-law position would practically result in zero loans, rather than loans that adhere to the prescribed parameters of Biblical law. When I had the opportunity to interview Rabbi Feldman on my podcast, Shu”T First, Ask Questions Later, he confirmed my suspicion that indeed the sequencing of the chapters in the book was not merely chronological but purposeful and pedagogical. The treatments of various

case studies of ha’aramot throughout the ages equip the reader to then engage with the more modern and pressing issues of cases like igun (the state of being chained), which is addressed toward the conclusion of the book. This chapter in particular draws upon figures within the Yeshiva University/ RIETS orbit who have largely been staunch proponents of the Beth Din of America’s Halachic Prenuptial Agreement.

I particularly appreciated Rabbi Feldman’s integration of both his rebbeim and colleagues alike, including Rabbi Daniel Rapp, Rabbi Yona Reiss, Rabbi Menachem Genack, Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein, Rabbi J. David Bleich, and, of course, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik. I found his citation of Rabbi Hershel Schachter’s treatment in B’Ikvei HaTzon (15:1) about the sale of chametz to be particularly enlightening. Rabbi Schachter distinguishes between the circumvention of a positive commandment and a negative commandment, positing that it is generally problematic to circumvent a positive commandment but not a negative one. It follows that the sale of chametz is not a problematic ha’aramah as long as it merely obviates the transgression of possessing chametz on Pesach (bal yera’eh u’bal yimatzei), while still enabling the individual to proactively fulfill his positive mitzvah of destroying a small portion of chametz on the morning before Pesach.

It is not surprising that this book was published by the RIETS Press of Yeshiva University, as Rabbi Feldman serves as its distinguished executive editor. What did raise an eyebrow, however, was that this work was classified under the “RIETS Hashkafah Series” rather than as part of the halachic genre. Years of studying Brisker lomdut sensitizes one to inquire what the Rambam is conveying by his sequencing of laws in his Mishneh Torah. In a similar fashion, my radar was alerted by this intriguing categorization.

The likely explanation is that this book does not actually dispense any practical conclusions such as a typical halachic digest would be expected to provide. While the book’s

content primarily emerges from halachic literature, it is in service of propounding particular philosophical messages, such as combating cynicism toward the halachic process, which Rabbi Feldman describes as “corrosive to the soul and damaging to the commitment needed to bring the Divine word to life” (p. 233).

As this book emerges from the world of Torah Umadda, I was anticipating a broader academic tie in. I deeply appreciated Rabbi Feldman’s analogy to tax avoidance versus tax evasion. He points to an example attributed to the early twentieth-century Supreme Court Justice Louis D. Brandeis, who explained that avoiding a toll road is completely legal while taking the toll route and evading payment would be illegal (pp. 15–16). Additional examples like this throughout the book would have further enhanced what is already an exceedingly edifying experience. Though, as I prefaced, the sheer volume of citations in this book already makes it a force to be reckoned with; perhaps more would be akin to an excess of blessing (see Ta’anit 9a).

Rabbi Feldman’s insistence on a more charitable understanding of ha’aramot reminds us to place our understanding of mitzvot in a positive framework. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (Iggerot Moshe, YD 2:16) was asked about the propriety of a shochet wearing gloves when performing the mitzvah of shechitah He replied that it depended on the reasoning: To protect one’s hands against the cold is one matter, but to protect one’s hands from a mitzvah is unconscionable. He remarked that a person needs to perform a mitzvah “with joy and love, and should be honored by the opportunity to soil his hands for the sake of a mitzvah, and not find workarounds to avoid dirtying himself.” While halachah employs ha’aramot in limited circumstances, our general orientation toward Torah observance should be to seize every mitzvah as an opportunity and privilege. “Ki heim chayeinu v’orech yameinu—For they are our life and the length of our days.”

Reviews in Brief

By Rabbi Gil Student

RABBI HERSHEL SCHACHTER’S COLLECTED WRITINGS, I

By Rabbi Hershel Schachter

Independently published 2024

222 pages

Rabbi Hershel Schachter is one of the leading rabbis of our time, serving in many important communal roles. He is both a prominent educator and a leading halachic authority who devotes much of his time to guiding rabbis around the world with difficult problems. Many of his Hebrew writings have been published in his three sefarim of collected articles. However, until now, his many English articles remained scattered across the various journals in which they were originally published decades ago.

When Rabbi Schachter writes, he brings to each issue a comprehensive view of the entire rabbinic literature throughout the ages. A friend once explained Rabbi Schachter’s approach like this: “You know how when you have just fully researched a topic, you have all the texts and views at your fingertips?

Rabbi Schachter is like that with all topics, all the time.” With this mastery of multiple layers of information, Rabbi Schachter elucidates key passages and views, whether from common Talmudic

texts or obscure contemporary responsa. With remarkable clarity, Rabbi Schachter guides readers through complex halachic thought, often taking fascinating detours into unexpected issues that illuminate the subject at hand.

Rabbi Hershel Schachter’s Collected Writings I begins the important task of publishing his English articles in book format so a broader audience can gain access to these important writings. Most of the articles in the volume were originally published in the 1980s, a decade when Rabbi Schachter addressed in writing some of the most complex questions of modern Jewish life. Among the issues in the work are the viability of modern metropolitan eruvin, family planning (originally published with the encouragement of Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetsky), the vexing problem of the halachic status of Ethiopian Jews, who may be accepted as a member in a synagogue or a student in a Jewish school, and more. The volume includes a few more recent articles on important communal issues, including how many days of yom tov to observe when visiting Israel, why women may not be ordained as rabbis and how to tie the techelet strings on tzitzit

Of great interest are the two early articles about Israel—regarding the mitzvah to move to Israel and the

question of trading land for peace— which merge Jewish law and thought to present a compelling account of Religious Zionism based on traditional sources. Together, these articles represent Rabbi Schachter’s casual mastery of the broad array of Torah genres and his ability to merge them into a seamless worldview.

1.8 MILLION MINUTES AND COUNTING: CELEBRATING & CONTEMPLATING MY FIRST 40 YEARS IN JEWISH BROADCASTING

IBy Nachum Segal with Yaffa Storch Independently published 2024 234 pages used to have a non-Jewish boss who had a long commute into Manhattan. He once mentioned to me how much he enjoys listening to Nachum Segal’s JM in the AM radio show while he drives to work. “I don’t understand everything

This book is not just about the theory of religious policing on Shabbat . . . it is a work of confidence that halachah has relevance and resonance in the modern world.

Rabbi Gil Student serves as director of Jewish Media, Publications and Editorial Communications at the Orthodox Union.

that is said,” he told me. “But I enjoy the sense of community.” This colleague correctly identified what Segal and his team have built over the past forty years of broadcasting—community.

In his memoir, 1.8 Million Minutes and Counting, Segal does more than tell the very interesting history of JM in the AM, which began as a Jewish music morning radio show and has since expanded to the twenty-four-hour online Nachum Segal Network (NSN). He describes how a community arose to help him spread Jewish pride, which in turn built a worldwide community of listeners, including me.

The book begins by telling the story of how, in 1983, a Yeshiva College undergraduate radio host became the unlikely morning host at Upsala College’s New Jersey radio station, putting WFMU on the Jewish community’s radar. Due to a miscalculation, WFMU’s antenna had an unusually broad coverage area well beyond the college campus. Its legal defense included the fact that it provided a unique community service, particularly for the Jewish community via JM in the AM. That partnership lasted for decades as Segal became a familiar voice in thousands of Jewish homes.

1.8 Million Minutes and Counting describes how JM in the AM became a crucial stop for Jewish celebrities and politicians courting the Jewish vote. Presidents and prime ministers, rabbis and singers, activists and organizers all make sure to visit Segal and speak directly to his large audience of engaged listeners. The book is replete with anecdotes of famous people who recognized the power and reach of JM in the AM. The show includes a lot of Jewish content, and not just music. For decades, Segal’s listeners have learned Torah from Rabbi Benjamin Yudin and Rabbi Dovid Goldwasser. Segal is generous in giving credit to others so that over the years, not just these rabbis but everyone involved with JM in the AM, the team that supports him in every aspect of the show, have become household names.

While Segal takes his job very seriously, the book is light-hearted. It is filled with many letters from listeners, full of laughably contradictory advice. Many of

the letters convey heartwarming messages describing how the show has helped people get through difficult periods in their lives. Like the show itself, the book is full of faith and hope, uplifting while enlightening and entertaining. In that way, 1.8 Million Minutes and Counting successfully captures the community spirit that Segal has built in his first forty years of leadership.

HIFKADTI SHOMRIM: THE JOURNAL OF THE ISRAEL POLICE RABBINATE, VOL. 1

Edited by Rabbi Reuven Kamil Independently published 2023

420 pages

In 1951, Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz published a much-discussed article titled “Shabbat and the State” in which the controversial thinker argued that traditional halachah cannot guide a sovereign state that needs an army, police and critical industries that function seven days a week.

Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neriah replied at great length in a series of articles that he combined into his Kuntres HaViku’ach—The Treatise of Debate, which he included in his 1992 book, Tzenif Meluchah. Among Rabbi Neriah’s responses is that halachic solutions can only be proposed when there are religious public servants willing to implement them in practice. I suspect that Rabbi Neriah would take great pride in the hardcover, book-length journal of the Israel Police Rabbinate, Hifkadti Shorim, and what it represents. With a growing religious presence in the Israel Police Force, there is a growing rabbinate—what in America we call chaplaincy—to guide and assist religious police officers. This impressive volume consists of thirtythree articles by the editor, individual

chaplains and the chief rabbi of the police force, Rabbi Rami Berachyahu. The first half of the book discusses the role of a religious police force in a secular state, both in general and particularly why it is necessary to operate on Shabbat and holidays. The remainder consists of a variety of articles about specific challenges facing religious police officers. These include halachic justification for undercover work, guidelines for honoring Shabbat with special clothing while wearing a police uniform, searching for missing persons on yom tov and taking preventive measures on Shabbat to avoid an emergency situation. There is also a fascinating exchange between Rabbi Berachyahu and the former chief Sephardic rabbi of Israel, Rabbi Yitzchak Yosef, about police officers wearing body cameras on Shabbat. This book is not just about the theory of religious policing on Shabbat and not just about a multitude of specific policerelated halachic issues. Primarily, it is a work of confidence that halachah has relevance and resonance in the modern world. The Torah applies in all times and places and serves as a constant guide in the complex world in which we live.

KEEPER OF THE TEFILLIN

By Dr. Ethan Schuman

Some months ago, I received a cryptic message in my office that a Mr. Sanford Seidman was looking for me. He had something of great importance that belonged to our mutual greatgrandfather, Rabbi Yitzchok Chanoch Schuman, whose name I bear.

When Mr. Seidman called, I had no knowledge of any Seidman relatives. When I called him back, he explained that our great-grandfather had seven children—four daughters and three sons. His grandmother, Hannah (Chana), was the eldest; my grandfather, Morris (Moshe), the second. I had never heard of him or most of my other cousins, Mr. Seidman told me, because my grandfather had distanced himself from his siblings. He—alone—had remained true to Torah observance.

Morris would boast that even during his service in the US Navy in World War I, he never missed a day of laying tefillin and never ate treif. He adhered to a strict vegetarian diet, maintaining his discipline even aboard the USS Pennsylvania while escorting President Woodrow Wilson to the Paris Peace Conference. Of all the siblings, only Morris would go on to raise generations of shomer Shabbos children, now living across America and Eretz Yisrael.

Then, Mr. Seidman revealed something remarkable. When he became a bar mitzvah, his grandmother took out a small box from her closet. Inside were the tefillin of our great-grandfather. She told him, “Guard them with your life.” Dutifully, he wore them once—on the day of his bar mitzvah—then tucked

them away, where they remained, untouched for sixty years.

A recent medical diagnosis prompted him to reflect on his life and those who came before him. He remembered his pledge to his grandmother to “guard the tefillin with his life.” His own children, he admitted, had drifted far from Yiddishkeit. He needed to find an appropriate custodian—a shomer—for the tefillin.

After researching the family tree, he discovered that, of all the descendants of Rabbi Yitzchok and Etta Gitta Schuman, only three could be considered true guardians of such an heirloom. He chose me. (Fittingly, decades earlier, my grandfather Morris had entrusted me with his late father’s spare tallis and Litvishe koppel [kippah].)

Shortly after, a box arrived for me in the mail from Mr. Seidman with the tefillin. I opened the box with a mix of awe and anticipation. Realizing where these tefillin had traversed all these years until they made it to my home in St. Louis filled me with emotion. Surely these tefillin had seen the Ponevezh and Slabodka yeshivos filled with bachurim! The worn retzuos (tefillin straps) reflected a lifetime of devoted use.

I brought them to my rav, Rav Avi Bloch, z”l, St. Louis’s senior shochet and sofer, and asked him to examine them. As soon as he saw them, he nodded. “These were high quality, made in Germany—very old.”

“How old?” I asked.

“One hundred and fifty years, I’d guess.”

He was exactly right. My greatgrandfather had worn them at his bar mitzvah in 1871.

Rav Bloch carefully opened the shel yad (the arm tefillin), examined the parashah and pronounced: “They’re kosher.”

The ink, unlike so many parshiyot of that era, had not been compromised by koopervasser—copper sulfate ink, which oxidizes and fades to a shade of brown, invalidating the tefillin.

The next morning, I donned them and recited Shehecheyanu with great emotion.

On a recent trip to Los Angeles, I visited the Young Israel of Century City, where I met the dynamic Rav Elazar Muskin and showed him my tefillin. He examined them, intrigued by their unusual and historic character, and suggested a protective case for the shel yad to keep the corners crisp. Of course, no such case existed for tefillin of this size—so I had one 3D printed.

I marveled at the timelessness of our mesorah. Here I was, employing twentyfirst-century technology to preserve nineteenth-century tefillin—the same ones my great-grandfather had wrapped around his arm each morning. I’m sure Rabbi Yitzchok Chanoch Schuman would be deeply moved to know that his cherished tefillin are still in use, the mesorah faithfully transmitted, binding generations together.

Dr. Ethan Schuman is a dentist living in St. Louis, Missouri, as well as a shochet and mohel. He is passionate about researching old Jewish communities and customs.