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TRIBUTE
The Loss of a Leader: Rabbi Moshe Hauer, zt”l
Man of G-d: Remembering Rabbi Moshe Hauer
By Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph
A Guiding Light for Klal Yisrael By Chief Rabbi Kalman Meir Ber
“His Life Was a Continuous Ascent” By Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb
To Illuminate Rather Than Condemn: The Legacy of Rabbi Moshe Hauer By Moishe Bane
A World Mourns
PHOTO ESSAY
Portrait of a Leader
JEWISH LAW
Weighing In: Ozempic and Jewish Law By Dr. Sharon Grossman
COVER STORY
Celebrating Our Fortieth Anniversary
Jewish Action Through the Years
Forty Years of Change By Jonathan Dimbert; Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein; Rabbi Menachem Genack; Rabbi Dr. Hillel Goldberg; Nachum Segal, as told to Sandy Eller; Rabbi Gil Student; Rebbetzin Dr. Adina Shmidman; Nathan Diament; Rabbi Avraham Edelstein; Rabbi Micah Greenland; Dr. Rona Novick, as told to Sandy Eller; Rabbi Michoel Druin; Dr. Noam Wasserman; Eli Langer; Rabbi Menachem Penner; Ruchama Feuerman; Ann Diament Koffsky; Roz


Sherman, PhD; Lisa Elefant, as told to Sandy Eller; Rabbi Yehoshua Fass, as told to Tova Cohen; Hillel Fuld
BUSINESS & ECONOMICS
Crushed by the Costs: The Hidden Financial Strain of the Orthodox Middle Class By Shalom Goodman
Financial Minimalism:
What happens when you stop chasing more and focus on what really matters? By Rivka Resnik
The Cost of Community: The OU’s Bold Effort to Make Frum Life Sustainable By Tova Cohen
JEWISH MEDIA
Faces of Orthodoxy: Stories of Orthodox Jews, One Face at a Time By Alexandra Fleksher
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JUST BETWEEN US Turning Off My Phone By Richard Simon
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KOSHERKOPY
Kosher Rx: Navigating the Kashrus of Medications and Vitamins
LEGAL-EASE
What’s the Truth about . . . Waiting Between Meat and Dairy? By Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky
THE CHEF’S TABLE Winner Winter Weeknight Dinner! By Naomi Ross
NEW FROM OU PRESS
The Concise Code of Jewish Law: A Guide to Daily Prayer and Religious Observance (Revised Edition) By Rabbi Gersion Appel; revised edition edited by Rabbi Daniel Goldstein
BOOKS
Ben Yeshiva: Pathway of Aliyah By Rabbi Ahron Lopiansky Reviewed by Rabbi Yosef Gavriel Bechhofer
Kotzk: The Rebbe, The Message, The Legacy By Yisroel Besser
Reviewed by Yehuda Geberer
LASTING IMPRESSIONS
Life Lessons from My Stint as Junior Gabbai By Rabbi Akiva Males
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THE MAGAZINE OF THE ORTHODOX UNION
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I just read Adina Peck’s article in the summer 2025 issue, “Yes, There Are Jews in Charlotte: Living Jewishly in the American South.” And a great article it was! It was well written and well documented.
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And I learned much, even though, having lived here for thirty years, I thought I knew all there was to know about Jewish Charlotte.
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Cantor Emeritus
Contributing Editors
Rabbi Eliyahu Krakowski
Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein • Dr. Judith Bleich
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Contributing Editors
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Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein • Moishe Bane • Dr. Judith Bleich
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Jerusalem, Israel
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Executive Vice President, Emeritus
Executive Vice President Rabbi Moshe Hauer, zt”l
In response to Yosef Lindell’s thoughtful article, “Between Nusach and Niggun: The Chazzan’s Evolving Role” (fall 2025), I would like to share an important perspective I heard a number of years ago from Rabbi Yaakov Hopfer, rav of Shearith Israel Congregation in Baltimore, when he addressed ba’alei tefillah in the community. What follows is my summary of his words, as I understood them.
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There is a widespread misconception about the role of the shaliach tzibbur. Many think his primary function is to inspire the kehillah. While that is certainly important, he has a more critical role to play: he is speaking directly to Hashem on behalf of His people. The central focus of the shaliach tzibbur is Chazaras Hashatz, Kedushah and other tefillos established to ensure that those who are not fluent in davening could still fulfill their obligation to daven. That was the very reason the role of shaliach tzibbur was instituted.
Rabbi Hopfer went on to explain: the role extends even to those who cannot be present in shul, the am shebesados [those who worked in the fields and were often far from the town]. These individuals were considered anusim—prevented from attending minyan through no fault of their own—and yet the shaliach tzibbur fulfills



their obligation nonetheless. One might ask: if they are not present to hear him daven, how can he fulfill this role for them? The answer lies in the principle of shlucho shel adam kemoso (a person’s emissary is like himself). Just as when the leader of a community goes before a king and speaks as the representative of the people who sent him, so too the shaliach tzibbur speaks before the Ribbono Shel Olam on behalf of his kehillah. Thus, the shaliach tzibbur is their emissary, their mouthpiece.
This, Rabbi Hopfer explained, means the shaliach tzibbur must have a profound sense of rachmanus (compassion) for his people. He must daven with the awareness of the struggles in his community, families crushed by staggering tuition burdens, people enduring financial difficulties that strain shalom bayis, men and women confronting health challenges, children suffering with learning or focusing issues, young men and women still waiting for shidduchim
A shaliach tzibbur who feels this collective pain and brings it before Hashem will daven in an entirely different way. As the tefillah says: “Heyei im pifiyos shluchei amcha Bais Yisrael—Be with the mouths of the emissaries of Your people, the House of Israel.”
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of Klal Yisrael. When a person truly feels the pain of others and cries out to Hashem from that place, those tefillos pierce the heavens. But alongside the pain, the shaliach tzibbur must also feel the goodness, the beauty and the nobility of our people. That combination, both empathy for suffering together with gratitude for the blessings of Klal Yisrael, creates a tefillah filled with authenticity, love and compassion.
May we all be zocheh to approach tefillah in this spirit and, through such heartfelt davening, bring yeshuos and nechamos to our communities and to all of Klal Yisrael.
Yaakov Jake Goldstein Baltimore, Maryland
BUILDING COMMUNITIES FROM THE GROUND UP
I read with great interest Judy Gruen’s “Putting Springfield, New Jersey, on the Map: Ben Hoffer” (fall 2025) about the flourishing community of Springfield, New Jersey, led so dynamically by Rabbi Chaim





shul building as it was being constructed in the early 1970s. Rabbi Turner served as the rabbi and then rabbi emeritus of the congregation from 1973 until his passing in 1996. He was followed by Rabbi Alan J. Yuter, who led the congregation from 1987 until 2002. I recall speaking at Rabbi Turner’s funeral, which took place in the shul, where I focused on his total devotion and deep love for the shul, its members and the greater Springfield community. I am certain that he would take great pride to see how this fledgling community has become a makom Torah and avodah, with families continually moving in and enjoying all that the shul and community have to offer. His vision for the future has come true!
Bonnie Frankel Woodmere, New York
While it was great to see Phoenix, Arizona, featured in Sandy Eller’s “Warmth Beyond Sunshine in Phoenix: Shaun and Gary Tuch” in the last issue, the article seemed to present a very narrow narrative. The Orthodox community in Phoenix, founded in 1965, possibly earlier, has been flourishing. There are over

seven Orthodox shuls of different types within a oneand-a-half-mile radius in Phoenix and at least three in Scottsdale, which is twenty minutes away, as well as numerous Chabad centers in the Phoenix metro area. Within nine miles of each other, there are four kosher grocery stores as well as expanded kosher sections in Safeway and Fry’s (Kroger). Trader Joe’s and Costco carry kosher meat, and there are some independent sellers of frozen bulk meat.
Restaurants? Your article stated that there was one. Within a few miles of each other there are two dairy and two meat restaurants in Phoenix. In Scottsdale, there are two wonderful meat restaurants and an excellent dairy restaurant.
Schools? There are Orthodox schools including Chabad schools for preschool through eighth grade. There are also a number of single-gender high schools and a co-ed high school. Numerous youth organizations, for all ages, are available as well.
Having lived in places where I had to travel forty-five minutes to an hour to buy kosher food or go to a kosher restaurant, I find that Phoenix is blessed with plentiful opportunities to purchase kosher food or dine out.
Additionally, Phoenix, with its low property taxes compared with other cities, can be affordable.
In short, Phoenix is filled with Yiddishkeit.
Ellen Nechama Poor Phoenix, Arizona
Thank you for presenting the inspiring stories of Orthodox Jewish communities building and rebuilding, including Cincinnati, Ohio (“How a Shul Rewrote Its Story: Yosef Kirschner,” by Judy Gruen). Beneath the happy endings are the senior board members, whose steadfast efforts preserved the institutions and who then focused on working with the next generation to address their evolving needs and preferences.
Dr. Leonard J. Horwitz Cincinnati, Ohio, and Deerfield Beach, Florida
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.

This past Shemini Atzeret, the OU family—and indeed all of Klal Yisrael—was left with a void that cannot be measured, with the passing of our beloved Executive Vice President, Rabbi Moshe Hauer, zt”l. For nearly six years, he carried the OU with a steady hand and a listening heart, guiding with wisdom rooted in Torah, integrity and an abiding love for Klal Yisrael. In shul, in the office, in the public square— wherever he went—he brought warmth, clarity and a sense of sacred purpose. His life was a living lesson in devotion, humility and care. May his memory forever be a blessing and a light to guide us forward.
In the pages that follow, we offer reflections from colleagues and friends who knew him best. A more extensive tribute will appear in a special edition of Jewish Action.
Rabbi Moshe Hauer, zt”l
, with OU Executive Vice President and Chief Operating Officer
Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph

By Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph
Just a few short months ago, at the OU’s Professional Leadership Retreat in September 2025, Rabbi Moshe Hauer, zt”l, shared something that Rabbi Berel Wein, zt”l, often recounted about the legendary Rabbi Alexander Rosenberg, zt”l,—Rebbetzin Mindi Hauer’s grandfather—who preceded Rabbi Wein as the rabbinic administrator of OU Kosher from 1950 to 1972.
A wide array of people would approach Rabbi Rosenberg with a range of ideas and plans. True to the extraordinary integrity he was known to exemplify, he would listen carefully until they finished, pause, look at them and ask, “Un vos zogt G-tt?—And what does G-d say?”
His daughter (Rabbi Hauer’s mother-inlaw) related that this was her father’s guiding principle—his mantra: “What would G-d say?”
Today we often soften that question, noted Rabbi Hauer. Instead we ask, “What does the Torah say?”
But the Gemara uses the terminology, “Rachmana amar—the Merciful One said.” We are meant to hear G-d’s voice, to live with an awareness of Hashem Yitbarach, and to help raise that awareness in the world. We are defined as a nation of believers—people who believe in G-d and take pride in our belief.
This question encapsulated Rabbi Hauer’s essence. In his erev Shabbat Shuvah message (Sept. 26, 2025), he wrote: “Let’s speak about G-d. Not just now. Let’s consistently speak much more about G-d. Not just about religious behavior and belonging, but about belief, the alef and bet of religious life—emunah and bitachon.”
In my previous Jewish Action articles, we’ve discussed the three B’s of religious engagement:
Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph is executive vice president/ chief operating officer of the Orthodox Union.
belief, behavior, and belonging. (Actually, there’s a fourth—becoming—which perhaps we will discuss in the future.) My focus had been on the last of these, belonging. But privately, Rabbi Hauer and I often bemoaned our community’s lack of connection to Hashem—a concern that increasingly became the focus of his public message in his final days.
In one of our earliest moments of sharing Torah, during a troubling and difficult time for the world as the pandemic took hold, Rabbi Hauer shared a thought that has shaped my perspective time and time again:
“Mi ha’ish he’chafetz chayim, ohev yamim lirot tov? Netzor leshoncha mei’ra, usefatecha midaber mirmah—Who is the man who desires life, who loves days to see good? Guard your tongue from evil and your lips from speaking deceit” (Tehillim 34:13–14).
When encountering this quote, we usually focus on the message of not speaking lashon hara. But Rabbi Hauer saw more than that. He would often say: “Don’t speak badly about Jews! Don’t even think badly about them!” I asked him, “How?” And he answered, “Stop skipping over the middle phrase: “ohev yamim lirot tov—who loves days to see good.”
That is what he would do: he would put on his G-dly lenses, his ahavah-colored lenses, and see people and situations with love. Through that love, he saw the good.
With this devar Torah, he not only shaped our perspective in a time of distress but also offered a way of life—a Torat Chaim—to guide all of our days.
Rabbi Hauer used this mindset and framework to believe in everyone’s potential, even those whom others didn’t believe in—or those who didn’t believe in themselves. He believed in the power of the Jewish people. He believed in his family. He
believed in the OU. He believed in us. He believed in me. Ultimately he believed in shalom, in people getting along.
Our tradition offers us a beautiful story to illustrate the idea of believing in each other. The Torah states that Noach went into the ark “mipnei mei hamabul—due to the waters of the Flood” (Bereishit 7:7). Rashi comments: “Af Noach miketanei amanah hayah, ma’amin ve’eino ma’amin sheyavo hamabul—Noach, too, was one of those of little faith; he believed but didn’t believe [fully] that the Flood would actually come.” That is why Noach did not enter the Ark until he saw with his own eyes that the waters had started to fall.
But how could Noach, the greatest tzaddik of his generation, have even the smallest doubt that the word of G-d would be fulfilled? Didn’t he spend 120 years listening to Hashem?
Rabbi Yitzchak of Vorki presents a remarkable reimagination of Rashi’s approach. He suggests we punctuate Rashi’s comment differently: “Af Noach miketanei amanah hayah ma’amin, ve’eino ma’amin sheyavo hamabul—Even Noach believed in those of little faith, and therefore he did not believe the Flood would come.” He trusted that they would repent and return to Hashem, and Hashem would halt the destruction of humankind. In other words, Noach believed in all of humanity, in the potential of each and every person.
Interpreting for the Good: Noach’s Legacy
It’s important to point out another aspect of the story of Noach, as the goodness of Noach himself is often debated. “Eileh toledot Noach; Noach ish tzaddik tamim hayah b’dorotav—These are the descendants of Noach; Noach was a righteous man, perfect in his generation” (Bereishit 6:9). Rashi notes that some of our rabbis interpret “in his generation” as praise—all the more so would Noach have been righteous had he lived among the righteous. Others interpret it as criticism—only relative to his generation was he righteous; had Noach lived in Avraham’s generation, he would not have been considered upright.
Rabbi Hauer used this mindset and framework to believe in everyone’s potential, even those whom others didn’t believe in—or those who didn’t believe in themselves.
Rabbi Avraham Rivlin of Yeshivat Kerem B’Yavneh teaches: Anyone who doesn’t interpret Noach favorably isn’t from our sages! Because “talmidei chachamim marbim shalom ba’olam— Torah scholars increase peace in the world.”
It’s time we put on Rabbi Hauer’s Hashemcolored lenses, his ahavah-colored lenses, and see the world as he did.
I truly think of Rabbi Hauer as a man of G-d. As we know, he traveled frequently—in taxis, Ubers and other vehicles. Shortly before he passed away, he shared with us that although he always said thank
you to these drivers, more recently he started to say “G-d bless you.” The reactions he would get were priceless, with the drivers genuinely appreciating his invoking G-d’s blessings.
This is just one example of how, wherever he went, people saw him as a man of G-d—reflected in his middot and his humility: “veha’ish Moshe anav me’od mikol ha’adam ” In everything he did, whenever he spoke and with whomever he spoke, he had in his mind the gemara in Yoma 86: “Ve’ahavta et Hashem Elokecha: she’yehei Shem Shamayim mitahev al yadcha—And you shall love Hashem your G-d: that the name of Heaven should become beloved through you.” For so many—those who knew Rabbi Hauer well and those who met him just once—Hashem became beloved through him.
Developing a “Hashem-First” Mindset
I often find that my first reaction—especially in interactions with others—is to think about people:
• “What will they think?”
• “How will they take this?”
• “Why is he being nice?”
• “Why is she speaking hurtfully?”
In all of those situations, I could instead think first about Hashem:
• “What will Hashem think?”
• “How will Hashem take this?”
• “Why is Hashem giving me a nice word through this person?”
• “What message is Hashem sending me through this person?”
Part of developing a “Hashem-first” mindset requires us to look for the love of Klal Yisrael through Hashem’s eyes. This is how Rabbi Hauer lived each day.
Rabbi Hauer’s legacy calls us to cultivate a “Hashem-first” mindset in all of our interactions. This means putting on our ahavah-colored glasses to see the good in others; believing in everyone’s potential, even when others do not; increasing peace in the world through our actions; and making the name of Heaven beloved through our conduct. May his memory be a blessing, and may we continue to ask ourselves: “Un vos zogt G-tt?—And what does G-d say?”
By Chief Rabbi Kalman Meir Ber
When Rabbi Yochanan passed away, Rabbi Elazar arose and eulogized him, saying: “This is as difficult a day for Israel as when the sun sets at midday” (Mo’ed Katan 25b). Rabbi Yochanan was 120 years old when he left this world. He was certainly not a young man. Nevertheless, Rabbi Elazar described his passing as a “difficult day for Israel,” a day when the sun set prematurely—at noon—because Rabbi Yochanan was still at the height of his leadership. He illuminated the eyes of Israel. When he died, it was as if the sun had set at midday, at the very peak of its brilliance. His age was irrelevant.
Rabbi Kalman Meir Ber is the Ashkenazi chief rabbi of Israel. This article is an unreviewed translation of Rabbi Ber’s eulogy delivered Friday, October 17, 2025 (Chaf Hei Tishrei, 5786). The sources are provided by the editor. The original eulogy, in Hebrew, can be found here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMgZ5U51QtE.

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There was a great light—the light of Rabbi Moshe Hauer, a light that shone like the midday sun. Rabbi Hauer was a real leader. He knew how to navigate, to guide, to unite and to consistently act for the sake of Klal Yisrael. Rabbi Hauer did not think of himself; he thought only of what was best for the Jewish people at any given moment.
Truly, it is a difficult day for Israel.
The Gemara (Berachot 28a) relates that when Rabban Gamliel was removed from the position of nasi (head of the Sanhedrin), it was due to Rabbi Yehoshua (the details are not relevant here). Later, Rabban Gamliel went to reconcile with him and said, “It is evident from the sooty walls of your home that you are a blacksmith.” (Rabban Gamliel had not been aware of the financial hardship that compelled Rabbi Yehoshua to engage in that trade.)
Rabbi Yehoshua replied with two statements: “Woe to the ship whose captain you are; woe to the generation which you serve as a parnas (leader).” What did he mean? The words of the sages always require study. A leader must possess two traits. First, he must be like a ship’s captain. A captain need not know each passenger personally; he must know the direction—where to steer the vessel, where to take the people. But a leader must also be a parnas—from the word parnasah [someone responsible for everyone’s sustenance and livelihood]. It is not enough to see the collective; one must also see each individual—to understand that the flock is composed of individuals, each with his own needs.1
Rabbi Moshe Hauer exemplified both of these traits. He understood the nature of the Jewish people—he knew how to unite them, to sense their
needs, to spread Torah and chesed, to unify people and to revive them. Someone told me, “When I was sick, I felt as though Rabbi Hauer took my illness upon himself—it became much easier for me.” Every sick person, every poor person, every needy soul—he was a parnas to each one. That is true leadership. And when such leadership is extinguished, it is like the sun setting at midday.
It is truly astonishing. Looking around the Jewish world today, we see how many divisions there are among the people and how few are truly “accepted by all their brethren”—right and left, in Israel and abroad. I ask myself, how did Rabbi Moshe Hauer merit such universal respect and affection? He achieved what few ever do—the love and esteem of all sectors.
Perhaps it is as the verse says about Mordechai HaYehudi: “Gadol laYehudim ve’ratzui l’rov echav He was great among the Jews and accepted by most of his brethren” (Megillat Esther 10:3). Before he was “ratzui—accepted,” he was first “gadol—great.”
What does “great” mean? In Torah and throughout Tanach, gadol always denotes one who cares for others. “Moshe grew up—vayigdal Moshe—and went out to see the suffering of his brothers” (Shemot 2:11). True greatness is in seeing another’s pain.
A gadol is one who gives. Likewise, the Shunammite woman is referred to as an “ishah gedolah—a great woman” (II Melachim 4:8). What made her great? She cared for Elisha’s needs, made him a room, looked after him. She concerned herself with others—and that is what made her great. Her greatness lay in her generosity, in her hospitality.
So too Mordechai HaYehudi was “gadol—great” because he cared for every Jew, saw the Jewish spark within every person. Because of that, he was accepted by most of his brethren.
Rabbi Hauer was the very embodiment of vayigdal Moshe—true greatness. For him, the only thing that mattered was the welfare of the individual and the needs of the collective. How to care for each person. What action to take. How to give—whether to the community as a whole or to each individual in need.
His universal acceptance should therefore come as no surprise. There is so much for us to learn from him. His constant caring explains why he was ratzui l’rov echav—beloved by Jews from all walks of life.
I have to mention one point that I think is very important. The Gemara in Sanhedrin (105b) says, “Whoever is lazy in eulogizing a sage deserves to be buried alive.” It derives this from Yehoshua bin Nun: “He was buried north of Mount Ga’ash” (Yehoshua 24:30). The Gemara understands this to mean that the mountain “erupted,” as if to swallow the Jewish people because they were negligent in his eulogy. Why were they negligent? Yehoshua was
a great leader—why would the people not properly eulogize him? Actually, they did not fail in their duty. Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin explains that there are two types of negligence: One is neglecting time for Torah; the other is failing to reach depth in study. Such a lack is also a form of neglect.2
Of course there were eulogies for Yehoshua. But the Jewish people did not truly plumb the depths of who he was. They all spoke of Yehoshua the chief of staff, Yehoshua the strategist, Yehoshua the leader of Am Yisrael, the great warrior and all his achievements. But they failed to see the real Yehoshua—the source of all his success. “Yehoshua bin Nun, a lad, would not depart from the tent” (Shemot 33:11). He was constantly immersed in the depths of Torah. Everything he did flowed from a Torah-based outlook, from his role as the personal attendant of Moshe Rabbeinu. He never departed from the tent of Torah.
This was where the Jewish people failed. They did not perceive Yehoshua bin Nun’s ruach hakodesh. 3 And incidentally, this was also the reason that Shmuel HaNavi’s prophecy ceased.
For a eulogy is meant to be more than remembrance—it is the takeaway, the lesson to be learned. Rabbi Hauer was a tremendous talmid chacham who could discuss any sugya, any subject in the Torah. It was through the power of Torah—its outlook on life, the world of Torah—that he achieved everything he did. We must not take a superficial view of who he was. We must look deeper, at the inner dimension—at the depth of Torah. “The lad—the servant—would not depart
from the tent.” At all times, even while on his feet and going about his work, Rabbi Hauer remained focused and toiling in Torah. And from this effort, he reached all his achievements.
The Gemara says that a person’s place and time of death are decreed at birth (Shabbat 156a). How fitting that he passed on Simchat Torah—the day when all Israel unites around the Torah. Unity, yes—but unity through Torah. He sought unity but without compromising Torah. As Rabbi Avi Berman [executive director of OU Israel] told me today, “He wanted unity but never at the expense of a single value of Torah.”
That was Rav Moshe Hauer. Amid all these exceptional abilities, he attained the world of Torah.
We offer a prayer to the Creator: We send you a faithful shaliach tzibbur. Rabbi Hauer, you were here with us, and you looked after Klal Yisrael at all times. You looked after everyone. May you continue to be a Heavenly advocate for the Jewish people.
Notes
1. See Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook, Ein Ayah, Berachot 4:22.
2. Nefesh HaChaim 4:2.
3. See Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook, Ein Ayah, Shabbat 13:6.
By Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb
It was well over forty years ago, long before I became the rabbi of Shomrei Emunah in Baltimore, that my wife, Chavi, and I had the zechus to host Rabbi Moshe Hauer, Rabbi Moshe Yisrael ben Binyamin, zt”l, for Shabbos meals, sometimes for an entire Shabbos day, when he was a young student at Yeshivas Ner Yisroel. Back then, we knew him as Moishe—a brilliant young man, already recognized for his
excellence in Talmudic study—but even then, there was something about him that made it clear he was destined for a life of extraordinary impact. In those early years, I saw a young bachur with a presence unlike others. Yeshivah bachurim who
Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb is executive vice president, emeritus of the Orthodox Union.
Even at that young age, there was an awareness, a sensitivity, a kind of inner depth that suggested he would not only learn but grow in ways that would touch many lives.
would come to our home for Shabbos were often lively, sometimes unfocused, but Rabbi Hauer stood apart. He engaged in conversation, in Torah discussion or simply in observing the world around him with a seriousness and thoughtfulness beyond his years. His intellectual curiosity was vivid, but it was paired with a natural integrity, a careful honesty and a humility that commanded respect without effort. Even at that young age, there was an awareness, a sensitivity, a kind of inner depth that suggested he would not only learn but grow in ways that would touch many lives.
Over the decades, what I saw in those first encounters developed into something astonishing. The young Talmud scholar became a man of formidable erudition. His curiosity blossomed into mastery, and that mastery into wisdom, all nurtured by a relentless commitment to truth. It was not merely knowledge that grew within him, but a profound sense of responsibility, of leadership and of care for others. Every step of his life reflected a growth that was consistent, steady and transformative.
I watched him grow from a brilliant student into a rabbi in the community, then a rabbi in many communities, shaping and guiding countless individuals. Finally, he became executive vice president of the Orthodox Union, and even in that position, he continued to grow. From week to week and month to month, he expanded his influence, refining his voice, asserting his intellect, and deepening his understanding of the challenges and opportunities facing the Jewish people. He reached far beyond his immediate circles, engaging with the broad spectrum of the Jewish world, extending even to interactions with non-Orthodox Jews and leaders in diverse social and political arenas.
His growth was not only intellectual. The young man who listened attentively at our Shabbos table
evolved into a man of profound empathy and care. He could hear the words of others and understand their needs, their struggles and their potential. His courtesy, once noticeable in small gestures, became a vast expression of love for his fellow Jews. His love for the Jewish people—ahavas Yisrael—expanded beyond his community, beyond Baltimore, beyond Orthodox circles, touching Jews everywhere.
I think of him in moments of courage as well, standing firm in truth even when it was difficult. One story that comes to mind is the memorial for the assassinated Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, when Rabbi Hauer did not hesitate to participate fully, representing Orthodox Jewry even when it might have been uncomfortable or controversial. He understood that leadership sometimes requires courage, that emes—the uncompromising pursuit of truth—is not only a personal virtue but a communal responsibility.
And yet, through all of this, it was growth that defined him most of all. Not just growth in knowledge or position, but growth in character, in depth, in love for humanity and commitment to the Divine. Each stage of his life built upon the last, transforming early potential into realized greatness. The young student who first came to our home was already remarkable; the man who stood as a leader, a thinker and a shepherd for his generation became extraordinary.

With Rabbi Dr. Tzvi
Even in the final weeks of his life, he continued to grow. His weekly writings became more profound, more incisive, more far-reaching, touching issues and hearts far beyond what he had done before. His growth was never static; it was a living, evolving testament to his inner strength and commitment.
Rabbi Moshe Hauer was, in the truest sense, a person whose life exemplified the extraordinary
potential of growth, the unfolding of talent and character over a lifetime devoted to Torah, truth and the Jewish people. We are left to mourn a loss that cannot be measured, to grieve the absence of a leader whose life was a continuous ascent, whose impact was ever-expanding, and whose spirit will continue to guide and inspire all of us who were privileged to know him.
By Moishe Bane
Ihave not yet found words to convey the depth of my personal bereavement with the passing of Rabbi Moshe Hauer. I can, however, more readily reflect upon and discern the gifts he bestowed upon Klal Yisrael.
Much has already been said and written about the tragic and immeasurable loss our community has endured, not least being Rabbi Hauer’s rare constellation of personal virtues that defined him. Yet to me, his most significant and enduring communal legacy lies in the way his extraordinary success in public life resolved one of Orthodox leadership’s most persistent dilemmas: how to defend Torah values with vigor and conviction while remaining faithful to Torah’s call for love and respect.
Experience teaches that casting stones, whether literal or figurative, at those who espouse offensive ideas rarely changes their hearts or minds. On the contrary, such gestures tend only to deepen resistance. The true aim of public condemnation and denigration is seldom reform but rather to sway the uncommitted and fortify the convictions of those already aligned—not to change the views of adversaries but rather to signal to one’s own community that the positions or behavior being attacked are beyond the bounds of consideration.

This strategy of militant contentiousness may at times be justified as necessary for the preservation of Torah Judaism. This is particularly true when confronting deviant views that include elements that may appear persuasive to the unguarded ear. Yet, Torah values themselves call us to speak with love and understanding, and to engage one another with dignity and respect. Moreover, those who assail theological or political adversaries through disparagement and vilification risk appearing sanctimonious and vitriolic, often alienating those who might otherwise sympathize with their position.
On the other hand, those who approach antagonists with warmth and camaraderie risk inadvertently conferring legitimacy upon indefensible ideas or conduct that ought to remain beyond the pale.
Rabbi Hauer revealed this supposed paradox to be illusory. He resolved this enduring tension for communal leaders by illustrating that principled and unyielding advocacy and sincere warmth and respect are not antithetical virtues, but complementary expressions of Torah integrity.
I accompanied Rabbi Hauer through countless meetings, conferences and conversations with those holding views we vehemently opposed. He composed hundreds of letters, essays and articles championing authentic Torah values at moments when those values were under challenge. At times, he also entered the fray of controversies within Orthodoxy itself, articulating his views with clarity and conviction.
Never once, however, did his words descend into disparagement, nor his tone into vilification. He would voice conviction with the quiet strength of humility. He listened attentively and would seek to understand the reasoning behind positions he knew were misguided. And he would respond firmly but never convey self-righteousness. Adversaries were transformed into friends, and Torah Judaism earned the respect of even its harshest detractors.
Simultaneously, his engaging and respectful manner with those asserting diametrically opposing views was never mistaken by his supporters for compromise or even modest endorsement of the views he unequivocally rejected. Those in the camp he represented, who shared his convictions, understood that Rabbi Hauer’s graciousness toward others was not a softening of principle but an expression of his ahavas Yisrael. He harbored a genuine love for every Jew, untouched by how fallacious or offensive their religious or political views, or
Experience teaches that casting stones, whether literal or figurative, at those who espouse offensive ideas rarely changes their hearts or minds.
even conduct, might have been. Even his more combative allies and their supporters never doubted Rabbi Hauer’s passion or his unwavering fidelity to Torah-true values.
In shaping the Orthodox Union’s institutional culture, Rabbi Hauer would often invoke a teaching of the Chafetz Chaim: that the most powerful refutation of error is not condemnation and denigration, but the clear and consistent example of the right path. When an organization challenges the practices of other movements or institutions, there is a tendency to denounce their flaws and failures. Rabbi Hauer, though acknowledging how difficult restraint can be, consistently urged the OU to act otherwise. Human nature often falls short of the ideal, but this ethic has become a guiding standard at the OU.
In an era of increasingly destructive polarization, Rabbi Hauer’s legacy offers a desperately needed model: that we can hold firm to Torah truth while treating every person with dignity, that we can unequivocally reject ideas without rejecting people, and that the most compelling defense of our values is not the force of condemnation but the integrity of our conduct.
May we find within ourselves the passion, courage and ahavas Yisrael to make Rabbi Hauer’s example the standard by which we guide both our personal lives and our communities.

A true bridge-builder, Rabbi Hauer was admired across the Jewish world and beyond. Below is a selection of excerpts from the condolence letters we received.

Letter of condolence from the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB), signed by Archbishop Timothy P. Broglio, president, and Bishop Joseph Bambera, chair of the Committee of Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs

Dear Mr Aeder and Rabbi Joseph,
And to all of my dear friends at the OU - to all board members, staff, and employees,
I write to you in a state of shock and deep sadness on hearing the devastating news of the passing of Rabbi Moshe Hauer, of blessed memory
I got to know him as a deeply compassionate, thoughtful, and visionary leader, who profoundly impacted American and world Jewry In every interaction with him, I was always struck by his graciousness his profound yiras Shamayim Every gesture thought and word was saturated with the light and gentleness of Torah that he personified - a Torah of darchei noam and shalom a Torah that reflected a deep sense of achrayus personal responsibility for Am Yisrael

Statement by Agudath Israel of America, noting the kiddush Hashem Rabbi Hauer created in all his encounters with the outside world and the unity within the Jewish world that he always sought to promote
Rabbi Hauer’s moral and spiritual qualities were matched by his remarkable strategic and leadership abilities He was a person of tremendous capability, vision, and depthaccompanied by tremendous generosity of spirit, always seeking to encourage others and to champion the dignity and honor of Heaven
Rabbi Hauer’s passing is a terrible loss and great blow for Am Yisrael
In his letter to the OU, Rabbi Dr. Warren Goldstein, chief rabbi of South Africa, calls Rabbi Hauer’s passing a “great blow for Am Yisrael.”
On behalf of the South African Jewish community, I would like to extend my deepest condolences to his mother Mrs Hauer, Rebbetzin Mindi and their children and grandchildren, to all who knew and worked with him
On behalf of our community, we stand with you in sorrow at this time and join with you in paying tribute to a truly great leader
With blessings,

World Mizrachi deeply mourns the sudden and tragic passing of Rabbi Moshe Hauer zt”l
Executive Vice President of the OU.
A gentle statesman of great stature and deep conviction, he led with empathy, love and wisdom. He was a masterful talmid chacham, whose authoritative voice of Torah, chessed and faith made a deep impact throughout Klal Yisrael. He was a proud advocate for Eretz Yisrael, Am Yisrael and Torat Yisrael, who knew how to inspire Torah values through his exemplary teaching, mentoring and personal values.
He was a cherished friend of the Mizrachi movement and a prominent leader of the Orthodox Israel Coalition, where we will miss his guiding presence and counsel.
We send our deepest condolences to Rebbetzin Hauer, his dear family, and everyone at the OU.

IN MEMORIAM: Remembering my chavruta: Rabbi Moshe Hauer, z”l
By Rabbi Rick Jacobs, President, Union for Reform Judaism

Published by EJP October 16, 2025
Earlier this week on Simchat Torah, we read the Torah’s final description of the biblical Moshe’s life of inspired leadership: “There never arose another one like Moshe” (Deuteronomy 34:10).

These words carry poignant resonance as our Jewish community mourns the sudden death of our beloved sage, Rabbi Moshe Hauer, z”l. Many Jewish leaders talk about the need for Jewish unity during this time of intense polarization, but Rabbi Hauer actually built Jewish unity. Since he became the leader of the Orthodox Union, Rabbi Hauer became my friend and trusted colleague — even while also an occasional sparring partner.
A few years back, Rabbi Hauer sent me a marked-up copy of a statement I had published. My words were covered with his voluminous comments in red ink. He took issue with pretty much every point I had made. Rather than just thanking him for “sharing his thoughts,” I asked if we could sit and discuss his rather extensive rebuttal.
Rabbi Hauer’s relationships extended throughout the Jewish world. Rabbi Rick Jacobs, president of the Union for Reform Judaism, published an article entitled, “Remembering my chavruta: Rabbi Moshe Hauer, z”l,” in eJewishPhilanthropy. On social media, Sheila Katz noted that despite being “an unlikely duo”— she, “a Reform, Jewish progressive woman,” and Rabbi Hauer, “an Orthodox, male rabbi”—they came “together to advocate against antisemitism, to promote safety in Israel, and for the return of the hostages.”
How could I not be impressed by the seriousness with which he debated my views about the latest news from Israel? With his characteristic humility, he took me to task, never once raising his voice or dismissing my deeply held convictions. As consummate students of Torah, our session felt like a chavruta, an intense one-on-one learning session with a wise colleague. I thanked him for his thoughtful critique.
Months later, Rabbi Hauer shared this beautiful characterization of our discussions: “We are an odd chavruta: a Reform and an Orthodox rabbi, and we are unlikely to ever see eye-to-eye either on issues of religion and state in Israel or on matters of Jewish law and practice. Yet we can, and have, worked together as brothers committed to the wellbeing of our beloved Jewish people and State of Israel.”
Yes, we disagreed on many (if not most) things, but we also shared many commitments, including standing up for the safety of our people and our Jewish homeland. Last year, Rabbi Hauer and I were both at a planning meeting for an upcoming communal event one year into the Gaza War. Each person advocated for which important messages should be conveyed.
After listening to many wise and appropriate suggestions, including the deep solidarity we Diaspora Jews continue to share with our Israeli siblings, I said: “But if no one raises the suffering of the innocent Palestinians in Gaza, our gathering will be morally incomplete.” Rabbi Hauer challenged me, asking if I thought that Orthodox Jews didn’t care about the dignity and safety of innocent Palestinians. I replied, “I don’t know, but what I do know is that I rarely hear Orthodox colleagues raise the subject.”
While the communal event featured several speakers from across the religious spectrum, only one ended up raising the issue of the suffering of innocent Palestinians caught in the crossfire of Israel’s war against Hamas: my chavruta, Rabbi Hauer. Though his voice was usually soft, his Torah was powerful and rooted in the deepest layers of Jewish teachings.

This summer, Rabbi Hauer and I were part of the Conference of Presidents’ Israel Leadership Mission. Our opening session was held at President Isaac Herzog’s home, Beit Hanasi. I took my seat next to my friend — and evidently President Herzog was struck that Rabbi Hauer and I were sitting next to each other. He marveled that the head of the Reform movement was sitting next to the head of the Orthodox Union. I told him that it was completely natural for me to sit next to my friend and cherished colleague. Yes, we disagreed on many issues, but we shared a profound respect and love for one another.
President Herzog asked me to offer words to close our session. I said that my prayer for the state of Israel was that one day it would not be newsworthy for a Reform rabbi to sit next to their Orthodox rabbi friend at an official meeting in the Jewish State. Rabbi Hauer’s humble leadership and devotion to the wellbeing of Klal Yisrael, the entire Jewish People, remains a beacon of light and love during these turbulent times. Our world is always in short supply of such kind, wise and principled leaders. How enormously blessed are we to have had such an exemplary soul leading us.
In the Talmud, we are taught: “Woe to those who are lost and cannot be replaced” ( Sanhedrin 111a). Today, we are the ones who are lost; our teacher, my chavruta, is the one who cannot be replaced.
UNION FOR REFORM JUDAISM
633 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017-6778 | 212.650.4000 | URJ@URJ.org
Knowledge Network: 855.URJ.1800 | URJ1800@URJ.org

Letter of condolence from the White House signed by President Donald Trump. In his letter, he refers to Rabbi Hauer’s “remarkable legacy” and stated that he was a “fierce advocate for the Jewish people.”
Message on social media by New York Governor Kathy
Hochul

Statement by the Jewish Federations of North America Board of Trustees
Chair Gary Torgow and President and CEO Eric Fingerhut

Hauer
to
it could also be
for
As the rabbi of Bnai Jacob Shaarei Zion in Baltimore for twenty-six years, Rabbi Moshe Hauer, together with his devoted wife, Rebbetzin Mindi, built a strong, vibrant kehillah that pulsed with life and purpose. A consummate talmid chacham and proud product of Ner Yisrael, Rabbi Hauer was equally revered for his empathy—for the way he listened, noticed and genuinely cared. His concern extended far beyond his own shul; he carried the weight of the broader Jewish community on his shoulders. It was that deep sense of responsibility that eventually drew him to a national role at the Orthodox Union. Yet even as he became executive vice president of the OU, he never left his kehillah behind. He stayed in Baltimore, commuting to New York each week, bringing with him the same warmth, humility and quiet strength that had defined both his family life and his rabbinate.


When Rabbi Hauer became executive vice president of the Orthodox Union in 2020, he brought with him the heart of a congregational rav—someone deeply attuned to the rhythm of real Jewish life. He led the OU through a time of global upheaval—first Covid, then October 7—with calm strength and Torah clarity. Under his guidance, the organization deepened its work with shuls and schools, expanded its rabbinic and educational efforts and fostered unity across the Orthodox world. His leadership was marked by warmth, integrity and a steady sense of purpose— always grounded in the conviction that the OU’s overriding mission is to strengthen the Jewish people’s commitment to Torah and mitzvot.


Speaking in Washington on the 180th day of the hostages’ captivity when the OU hand-delivered 180,000 letters from Americans to the White House appealing for the US to do even more to free them


Rabbi Moshe Hauer moved comfortably in the public square, speaking about faith with senators and other political leaders as naturally as he did with members of his shul. At the OU, he became the organization’s public voice, representing the Orthodox community in national, interfaith and governmental settings. Yet he never viewed advocacy as politics. For him, it was responsibility—Torah values translated into action. He listened as much as he spoke, and made everyone he met feel heard. Whether testifying before Congress on campus antisemitism, meeting with world leaders or addressing interfaith gatherings, he carried himself with humility and conviction, always anchored in Torah and guided by compassion.
In conversation with






By Dr. Sharon Grossman
Recently, after I delivered a lecture to a group of frum women on the Torah perspective on weight-loss medicine, a slim woman named Chani came over and said, “My sister, Dina, weighed 250 pounds. Her health was terrible. Ozempic is a miracle drug—she is now a size 4. Her diabetes disappeared, and her blood pressure and cholesterol are normal.” She paused, then added, “Can you write a prescription for me? I want to fit into a size 2 for my daughter’s wedding.”
Chani and Dina have different reasons for seeking weight-loss medication, illustrating two sides of a complex issue.1
Obesity is a public health crisis in the US. In 2020, nearly 75 percent of Americans were overweight, and 42 percent were obese. One in five children is obese. Orthodox Jews are not immune. Our rates of obesity are similar to—or perhaps even higher than—those of the general population.2 Moderate obesity reduces life expectancy by about three years; severe obesity cuts it by about ten.
Excess weight increases the risk of high blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes, heart disease, stroke, gallbladder disease, osteoarthritis, sleep apnea, asthma, cancer, Alzheimer’s, depression and infertility among other health issues—as well as overall mortality. The longer one is obese, the greater the risks. Losing just 5 to 10 percent of one’s total body weight (10–20 pounds for a 200-pound person) can make a real difference.3
Dina had long struggled with her weight. The cycle of losing pounds only to gain them back was frustrating. Diet and exercise were not enough. In fact, 80 percent of people who lose weight regain half of it within five years.4 She wasn’t lacking willpower; rather, to lose weight and keep it off, she needed to overcome her body’s set point—the weight range your body naturally tries to stay at.
Ozempic is part of a new class of drugs, which mimics a naturally occurring hormone, that decreases appetite, delays gastric emptying, and creates a feeling of fullness to help sustain weight loss.5 These drugs were originally developed to treat diabetes but have been found to trigger weight loss in many people.6 Medical organizations recommend weight-loss medicine—as part of a comprehensive plan that includes nutrition, physical activity and behavioral counseling—for individuals with a BMI of 30 kg/m2, or 27 kg/m2 with comorbidities, who have failed to achieve significant weight loss.
Dr. Sharon Grossman is a writer and lecturer on medicine, public health and halachah. She has published widely in journals such as Tradition, Hakirah and the Lehrhaus as well as in medical literature. She is the author of the forthcoming book The Cure Before the Illness: Disease Prevention in Jewish Law (Maggid Books) and has lectured extensively to diverse audiences in Israel, as well as in Australia, Great Britain and the United States.
Dina’s program ensured that she met eligibility requirements and screened her for medical issues that could make her ineligible for the drug.7 She suffered no side effects—neither the common ones, like nausea, vomiting and abdominal pain, nor the less common ones, such as allergic reactions and gallstones.8 Her results were astounding.
Beyond dramatic weight loss, these medicines also decrease blood pressure, cholesterol, and triglycerides, and improve glucose regulation. They reduce the risk of heart attack, stroke, and cardiac death by 20 percent in obese adults with pre-existing heart disease but without diabetes. Since these drugs are still relatively new, their full impact on disease prevention is not yet known. One study anticipates they could prevent 46 million heart attacks over ten years.
To maintain the benefits, Dina will need to continue these medicines and lifestyle interventions indefinitely. People who discontinue them typically regain two-thirds of their weight loss and lose the associated health benefits.9
While Dina uses the medication to manage her chronic health conditions, the cosmetic use of weight-loss medicine is on the rise. One expert speculates that millions of healthy-weight individuals may now be using these drugs.10 Some in the Orthodox community who are not obese use them for quick weight loss before a simchah or to improve their prospects for a shidduch. 11
In general, prescribing an FDA-approved drug offlabel—for uses other than those for which the drug was approved—is legal. However, physicians strongly disapprove of using weight-loss medicine as a quick fix because these drugs have not been studied in healthyweight individuals and may pose dangerous side effects for this population. They can cause healthy-weight people to become underweight and reduce muscle mass to dangerously low levels. Additionally, they might contribute to the development of eating disorders.12
Those who use these medicines off-label often obtain them through telehealth platforms or medical spas that do not rigorously evaluate patients, screen for potential contraindications, or monitor for complications.13 Furthermore, the surge in public demand for these medicines reduces their availability for those who need them to treat diabetes or obesity, exacerbating already difficult supply shortages. For these reasons, the American Medical Association (AMA) has stated that these medicines are approved for the treatment of obesity and not for cosmetic weight loss.14
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As these drugs become more common, how will they affect fat stigma and our ongoing obsession with thinness?
Eli Lilly, one of the leading manufacturers of weightloss drugs,15 explicitly states that these medicines “were not studied for . . . and should not be used for cosmetic weight loss.” This condemnation from a company that stands to profit from off-label use reinforces the medical community’s distaste for the drugs’ cosmetic application.16 Insurance companies have threatened to report suspected inappropriate or fraudulent prescribing practices to state licensure boards as well as federal and state law enforcement agencies. Florida restricts the prescription of weight-loss medicine to patients who meet strict BMI requirements. The English Joint Council for Cosmetic Practitioners calls prescribing weight-loss drugs for cosmetic purposes a public safety hazard and warns that prescribers may face regulatory scrutiny.17
As the cosmetic use of weight-loss medicine becomes increasingly common, the medical-legal community must clearly define the consequences. In the meantime, prescribing Ozempic for Chani may not be illegal, but depending on the jurisdiction, it could carry medicolegal implications.
Despite the fact that Dina is using weight-loss medication for legitimate health reasons, her doing so raises several halachic questions. First, may she take a medication that might cause long-term harm?
In two teshuvot, Rabbi Eliezer Waldenburg permits a terminally ill patient to take pain medication that does not treat the underlying disease and might hasten death. He reasons that as long as a physician administers the medication and its purpose is to relieve terrible suffering, verapo yerapeh—the physician’s license to heal—justifies any untoward effects that might arise.18 Based on these teshuvot, one might conclude that halachah permits Dina to take the drug despite its known risks, even without longterm safety data, since it has regulatory approval and is prescribed for a medical purpose.
Secondly, because weight-loss medicine is administered by injection, is Dina violating chovel—the prohibition against causing a wound? In this case, the injection may be permissible, as halachah generally rules leniently regarding injection wounds;19 the
prohibition may not apply to wounds that result from a medical procedure20 or are inflicted for a purpose; according to Rambam, chovel only applies to wounds intended to humiliate.21 Pharmaceutical companies are developing oral formulations of these drugs—which would eliminate chovel concerns altogether.22
Finally, does the restriction of food intake caused by these medicines violate the prohibition against selfharm? Rabbi Moshe Feinstein permitted a woman to diet,23 arguing that the prohibition against self-harm obligates people to follow medically prescribed diets, since failure to do so would cause extreme suffering from obesity-related diseases. For Dina, Ozempic arrested this risk, preventing debilitating complications and adding years to her life. Thus, drawing on Rav Moshe’s teshuvah, halachah not only permits Dina to take Ozempic but requires it. Here, weight-loss medicine falls under the mitzvah of v’nishmartem me’od l’nafshoteichem (the obligation to preserve one’s health) and the general duty to prevent disease. If a doctor recommends weight-loss medicine, halachah obligates the patient to comply as part of the broader obligation to follow medical advice.24
While Jewish law embraces the use of weight-loss medicine to manage obesity, its response to cosmetic use is less clear-cut. One potential parallel lies in teshuvot addressing the halachic permissibility of cosmetic surgery, which tests the boundaries of what is allowed in the pursuit of improved appearance. Cosmetic procedures may violate chovel, interfere with G-d’s design and expose individuals to risk for nonmedical reasons—raising the question of whether verapo yerapeh even applies.
Rabbi Eliezer Waldenburg takes the most stringent view, prohibiting cosmetic surgery on these grounds and arguing that it implies G-d’s creation is flawed.25 However, he does distinguish between procedures purely for aesthetic reasons and those that restore the body to its original state.
In contrast, the Chelkat Yaakov, Rabbi Yaakov Breisch, permits a young woman to undergo cosmetic surgery to improve her appearance in order to find a spouse, since it is done to relieve tza’ar (mental anguish).26 He cites Shabbat 50b, which allows a person to remove scabs if they cause pain. Tosafot (s.v. bishvil) add: “If the only pain he suffers is the embarrassment of walking among people, it is permitted—because there is no greater pain than this.” Rabbi Breisch suggests that Tosafot’s definition of pain includes psychological distress.
He concludes that, since the risks are low, one may undergo surgery for a non-life-threatening condition, particularly because shomer peta’im Hashem—the principle that one may engage in potentially dangerous activities that society has demonstrated a willingness to
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accept—might justify any residual risk.
Rabbi Menashe Klein permits a young woman to undergo plastic surgery to correct a facial imperfection that interfered with her ability to find a spouse,27 citing Talmudic precedents that allow medical interventions to improve one’s appearance.28
Rav Moshe also permitted such procedures,29 when it alleviates suffering or embarrassment, invoking v’ahavta l’rei’acha kamocha. It would seem that the reasoning is that improving one’s appearance—when it removes distress—constitutes an act of chesed and is consistent with the Torah’s mandate to love and respect others (including oneself).
It is unclear whether Rav Moshe’s teshuvah is limited to cases of significant need. Finally, Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach asks rhetorically why halachah would prohibit surgery aimed solely at restoring a normal appearance. He writes, “If the plastic surgery is done to prevent suffering and shame caused by a defect in his looks . . . this would be permitted based on the Tosafot and the Gemara, since the purpose is to remove a blemish.”
Nevertheless, he adds, “If the only reason is for beauty, this is not permitted.”30
Do the teshuvot that permit cosmetic surgery also apply to the cosmetic use of weight-loss medication?
The risks associated with these drugs may be lower, since they do not involve surgery. Even Rabbi Waldenburg’s categorical prohibition against plastic surgery might leave room for the cosmetic use of weight-loss medication, since it can be viewed as restoring the body to its original, thinner form. On the other hand, one must ask: why does Chani want to use Ozempic? Does she meet Tosafot’s definition of tza’ar—psychological distress so severe that she is embarrassed to “walk among people”? Is she truly uncomfortable in her current state to the point of not wanting to be seen at her daughter’s wedding?
Furthermore, in order to receive Ozempic for cosmetic purposes, Chani would either have to lie about her weight to a telehealth provider or find a healthcare provider who disregards the clinical guidelines—raising several halachic concerns. These include prohibitions against sheker (lying), geneivat da’at (being deliberately misleading), mesayei’a l’dvar aveirah (enabling another to sin) and lifnei iver (placing a stumbling block before the blind). If these medicines are in short supply, the halachic implications intensify: is it permissible to use them for non-medical, cosmetic reasons when doing so may deprive those who genuinely need them to treat diabetes or obesity?
Although the medical community generally views cosmetic surgery as an acceptable intervention, the AMA disapproves of using weight-loss medications for purely
cosmetic purposes.31 This disapproval may undermine halachic comparisons between cosmetic surgery and the cosmetic use of weight-loss drugs. Can the principles of verapo yerapeh and shomer peta’im Hashem justify the risks, given the medical community’s condemnation of this practice?
If halachah prohibits the cosmetic use of these drugs, might it distinguish between different types of users—such as between men and women, or between young women hoping to improve their shidduch prospects and alreadymarried women seeking to enhance their appearance for a family simchah? Conversely, if halachah permits such use, should Torah-observant Jews still avoid it due to the unresolved halachic, ethical and societal concerns?
As the use of these medications becomes increasingly common in the Orthodox community, posekim will need to consider these issues and determine whether such use parallels that of cosmetic surgery, which halachah generally permits. The introduction of medicines for treating obesity and obesity-related diseases also requires us to consider their broader implications for our community. Rabbi Auerbach’s teshuvah raises questions about what we consider normal. Does body size define that? And if it does, what size do we view as normal? As these drugs become more common, how will they affect fat stigma and our ongoing obsession with thinness? On the one hand, if these medicines make thinness easy to attain, perhaps we will desire it less. Perhaps they will increase our compassion for those who are overweight, since the drugs highlight the difficulty of maintaining weight loss. On the other hand, if becoming thin is so easy, we may begin to see it as a basic aspect of self-grooming—leading to the expectation that those who are overweight should take these medicines. This perspective could reinforce weight stigma and undo decades of efforts to promote body positivity.
In a society where appearance holds such importance, many of us will feel compelled to do more. Fifty percent of thirteen-year-old girls are already unhappy with their bodies; by age seventeen, that number rises to 80 percent.32 Will these drugs lead to eating disorders among Orthodox Jews?33
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These questions are critical as our community grapples with the role of weight-loss medicines. Doctors, pharmaceutical companies, the healthcare industry and patients must work together to prevent the misuse of these drugs and ensure that those who need them receive them.34 Moving forward, we must heed Rabbi Waldenburg’s warning that our obsession with beauty contradicts Torah values: “Beauty is vain. A woman who fears G-d—she is to be praised.”35
My conversation with Chani evoked conflicting emotions: awe at the miracle drug that could reverse the obesity epidemic; hope for those like Dina who struggle with obesity; and fear that our medical ability to induce weight loss will reinforce weight stigma, an overemphasis on external appearances, and eating disorders. Dr. David Kessler, the former FDA commissioner who led the fight against the tobacco industry, states, “The fight against tobacco . . . has been the great public health success. Obesity has been the great public health failure.”36 Armed with these new medicines, we stand at a defining moment in the battle against obesity-related diseases. If we use them judiciously, we have the potential to save countless lives and fulfill Hashem’s mandate to eradicate illness.
Notes
1. For a complete discussion of obesity and its management in Jewish law, see my forthcoming book, The Cure Before the Illness: Disease Prevention in Jewish Law (Maggid Books). I would like to thank Dr. Jody Dushay, assistant professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School and attending physician in the Division of Endocrinology and Metabolism, for taking the time to discuss weight-loss medicine with me and for reviewing the manuscript. Her input greatly enhanced this article.
2. Katelyn Newman, “Obesity in America: A Public Health Crisis,” US News & World Report, Sept 19, 2019; Craig M. Hales et al., “Trends in Obesity and Severe Obesity Prevalence in US Youth and Adults by Sex and Age, 2007–2008 to 2015–2016,” JAMA 319, no. 16 (Apr 2018): 1723–25, https://doi. org:10.1001/jama.2018.3060. Obesity is defined as having a body mass index (BMI) of 30.0 or higher. Severe obesity is defined as having a BMI of 40.0 or higher. https:// www.cdc.gov/obesity/adult-obesity-facts/ index.html; https://www.cdc.gov/obesity/ childhood-obesity-facts/childhood-obesityfacts.html; Maureen R. Benjamins et al., “A Local Community Health Survey: Findings from a Population-Based Survey of the Largest Jewish Community in Chicago,” Journal of Community Health 31 (Dec 2006): 479–95, https://doi.org./10.1007/ s10900-006-9025-5; https:// www.cityhackneyhealth.org.uk/ wp-content/uploads/2019/08/ Orthodox-Jewish-Health-NeedsAssessment-2018.pdf.
3. https://www.cdc.gov/diabetes/living-with/healthy-weight. html; https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/causesprevention/risk/obesity/obesity-fact-sheet#what-is-knownabout-the-relationship-between-obesity-and-cancer-. The American Cancer Society attributes 11 percent of cancers in women, approximately 5 percent of cancers in men, and 7 percent of all cancer deaths to excess body weight—about 40,000 deaths each year. (This figure does not include deaths from other obesity-related illnesses and conditions.) https:// www.hsph.harvard.edu/obesity-prevention-source/obesityconsequences/health-effects/; https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/ pmc/articles/PMC5497590/
4. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/ S0025712517301360?via%3Dihub.
5. https://health.clevelandclinic.org/set-point-theory/
6. These weight-loss medications are part of a class of drugs known as glucagon-like peptide-1 receptor agonists (GLP-1s). Semaglutide is a GLP-1 agonist, while tirzepatide is a dual agonist, acting on both the GLP-1 receptor and the glucosedependent insulinotropic polypeptide (GIP) receptor. At lower doses for treating diabetes, semaglutide is marketed as Ozempic; at higher doses for treating obesity, it is sold under the name Wegovy. Tirzepatide is marketed as Mounjaro for diabetes and as Zepbound for obesity.
7. This is the recommendation of the Obesity Society, the Endocrine Society and the American Association of Clinical Endocrinologists. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/ books/NBK279038; https://time.com/6285055/wegovyteenagers-weight-loss-risks/.
8. Liyun He et al., “Association of Glucagon-Like Peptide--1 Receptor Agonist Use with Risk of Gallbladder and Biliary Diseases: A Systematic Review and Meta-analysis of Randomized Clinical Trials,” JAMA Internal Medicine 182, no. 5 (May 1, 2022): 513–19, https://doi.org/10.1001/ jamainternmed.2022.0338.; E Pérez et al., “A Case Report of Allergy to Exenatide,” Journal of Allergy and Clinical Immunology, Practice 2, no. 6 (Nov–Dec 2014): 822–23; and https://eposters.ddw.org/ddw/2024/ddw2024/414874/piyush.nathani.incidence.of.gastrointestinal. side.effects.in.patients.html.
9. https://www.acc.org/Latest-in-Cardiology/ Articles/2023/08/10/14/29/SELECT-Semaglutide-ReducesRisk-of-MACE-in-Adults-With-Overweight-or-Obesity; https://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NEJMoa2307563; https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9542252.
10. Personal communication with Dr. Jody Dushay, August 2025. Thirty percent of plastic surgeons reported having used weight-loss medicine; of these, 70 percent indicated that they did so for cosmetic weight-loss alone. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/38085071; Nathan D. Wong, Hridhay Karthikeyan, and Wenjun Fan, “US Population Eligibility and Estimated Impact of Semaglutide Treatment on Obesity Prevalence and Cardiovascular Disease Events in US Adults,” Journal of the American College of Cardiology, Aug 2023, https://doi.org/10.1016/ S0735-1097(23)02259-3; https://www.today.com/health/ celebrities-on-ozempic-rcna129740
11. https://jewinthecity.com/2025/03/does-judaism-allow-youto-take-ozempic-and-other-weight-loss-drugs/.
12. Personal communication with Dr. Jody Dushay,

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Fifty percent of thirteen-year-old girls are already unhappy with their bodies; by age seventeen, that number rises to 80 percent. Will these drugs lead to eating disorders among Orthodox Jews?
August 2025. https://www.medscape.com/ viewarticle/983004#vp_2; D.C.D. Hope and T.M.M. Tan, “Skeletal Muscle Loss and Sarcopenia in Obesity Pharmacotherapy,” Nature Reviews Endocrinology 20 (2024): 695–96 (2024), https://doi.org/10.1038/s41574024-01041-4; https://dom-pubs.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/ doi/10.1111/dom.14725; and https://time.com/6290294/ weight-loss-drugs-ozempic-demonization-essay/.
13. Personal communication with Dr. Jody Dushay, August 2025. Some telehealth platforms accept patients based on patient report. https://www.newyorker.com/ magazine/2023/03/27/will-the-ozempic-era-changehow-we-think-about-being-fat-and-being-thin; https:// magazine.ucsf.edu/weight-loss-drugs-too-good-to-be-true
14. https://www.ama-assn.org/public-health/chronicdiseases/what-doctors-wish-patients-knew-aboutanti-obesity-medication Despite these concerns, some doctors are writing prescriptions for weight-loss medicine purely for cosmetic purposes. https://beverlyhillscourier. com/2023/11/16/the-real-skinny-on-weight-loss/; Personal communication, Dr. Jody Dushay, August 2025.
15. https://www.cbsnews.com/news/2024-oscars-eli-lilly-adweight-loss-drug-mounjaro-ozempic.
16. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zYsU9ltnH8w
17. https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2023/06/11/ weight-loss-ozempic-wegovy-insurance/?utm_ campaign=KHN%3A%20First%20Edition&utm_ medium=email&_hsmi=262066865&_hsenc=p2ANqtz9rIvynBptFsvvj0doDkQYFbvNOgwtFzvPvqY3Lam5f eDA5V4gdYZuELna20MTZAFOD_wqPN6lJvzvminl; https://www.lilesparker.com/2024/10/28/auditsand-investigations-of-semaglutide-and-other-glp-1claims/?utm_source=chatgpt.com; https://www.jccp.org. uk/NewsEvent/prescribing-weight-loss-procedures-inthe-cosmetic-sector-1.
18. Tzitz Eliezer 13:87; 14:103.
19. Minchat Shlomo 1:32.
20. Rema, YD 241:3.
21. Rambam, Hilchot Chovel u’Mazik 5:1; Minchat Shlomo 1:32.
22. https://www.reuters.com/business/healthcarepharmaceuticals/factbox-top-pharma-companies-worklaunch-first-weight-loss-pill-2025-08-07/.
23. Iggerot Moshe, Choshen Mishpat 2:65.
24. HaRefuah KeHalachah, v. 3, pp. 66–69; personal conversation with Rabbi Dr. Avraham Steinberg, July 2023.
25. Tzitz Eliezer 11:41.
26. Chelkat Yaakov, Choshen Mishpat 31.
27. Mishneh Halachot 4:426.
28. Ketubot 72b discusses a case of a man who betroths a woman on the condition that she does not have a mum—a blemish that would disqualify a kohen from serving in the Beit Hamikdash. Tosafot on Ketubot 74b explain that if a physician had corrected the defect before the engagement, the marriage would still be valid. Since many of these blemishes include cosmetic facial imperfections (see Bechorot and Mishneh Torah, Bi’at Hamikdash 8), Rabbi Klein concludes that one may undergo cosmetic surgery to correct their appearance.
29. Iggerot Moshe, Choshen Mishpat 2:66.
30. Cited in Nishmat Avraham (YD, p. 62 and Choshen Mishpat, p. 113).
31. https://www.ama-assn.org/public-health/chronic-diseases/ what-doctors-wish-patients-knew-about-anti-obesitymedication.
32. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/perfectme/202310/will-weight-loss-drugs-change-our-idealbodies; https://now.org/now-foundation/love-your-body/ love-your-body-whats-it-all-about/get-the-facts.
33. Although the exact rate of anorexia in the Orthodox community is unknown, partly due to reluctance to disclose for fear of discrimination in shidduchim, its existence is acknowledged. A 1996 study found that the rate of anorexia among Orthodox Jewish girls in Brooklyn was 50 percent higher than that of the general population; however, the study was never published in a peer review journal. See https://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/12/ health/12orthodox.html. A 2008 study found higher rates of anorexia in Jewish girls compared to their non-Jewish peers. Leora Pinhas et al., “Disordered Eating in Jewish Adolescent Girls,” Canadian Journal of Psychiatry 53, no. 9 (Sept 2008) 601–8, https://journals. sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/070674 370805300907.
34. https://oxsci.org/the-science-ofskinny.
35. Mishlei 31:30.
36. https://magazine.hms.harvard.edu/ articles/david-kessler-what-doctorsand-patients-should-know-aboutglp-1-drugs.

What did it mean to be an Orthodox Jew in America in the eighties? In the nineties? In the early 2000s? The questions change, the headlines shift—but leaf through the pages of Jewish Action and you’ll find the story of a community in constant motion.
From the Cold War to the chaos of Covid, our pages have mirrored four decades of change—technological, religious and cultural. Each era brought its own vocabulary, its own anxieties, its own hopes.
Through it all, Jewish Action tries to make sense of what it means to live a thoughtful, Torah-committed life in an ever-changing world. We tackle the headlines as well as the quieter revolutions shaping Jewish life: women’s learning, the cost of day school, the lure and peril of technology.
And some subjects never quite leave us. Antisemitism. Family and work. Kiruv and chinuch. Each decade has forced us to revisit these themes with fresh eyes.
In 1985, Joel Schreiber and Rabbi Matis Greenblatt reimagined Jewish Action, turning it from a simple newsletter into a magazine willing to think deeply, argue honestly and write beautifully. Forty years later, our mission—to educate, inspire and strengthen our community’s religious life—remains as vital as ever.
To mark this milestone, we turn back to the 1980s and trace the arc of four decades of change. In this wideranging symposium, we asked writers and thinkers to reflect on the religious, cultural and communal shifts they’ve witnessed. And as we look back, one truth stands clear: the conversation that began forty years ago is still alive, still unfolding, still essential.
This issue marked Jewish Action’s transformation from a house organ into a thoughtful, intelligent quarterly.


SPRING
“Torah on Tape”
1986

SUMMER
“We Mourn the Loss of Our Great Leaders”
Tributes to Torah giants, Rav Moshe Feinstein and Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky, written shortly after their passing

Jewish Action Symposium: “The State of K’lal Yisrael Today: Is There an Antidote to the Religious Polarization Between Jews?”
1988

SUMMER
“Israel at Forty”
1990 - 91

“From Darkness to Light? The Challenge of Russian Jewry”
Responding to the reawakening of Soviet Jewry in the wake of Perestroika


“Ethiopian Jewry: The Challenge Ahead”

“Sources of Faith: A Symposium on Emunah”
A seminal symposium with contributors including Rabbi Aharon Feldman, Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein, Dr. Judith Grunfeld and Rabbi Yechiel Yitzchok Perr, among others
“Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik: His Life and Legacy”
The 1993 issue devoted to the Rav is widely regarded as a classic edition—a timeless collection of reflections on the Rav.

“The Rabin-Arafat Accord: Can Peace Become a Reality?”

WINTER
“A Soldier’s Dilemma: What Does Jewish Law Say about Evicting Jewish Settlers?”

“The New Messianism: Passing Phenomenon or Turning Point in the History of Judaism?”
A landmark article by Dr. David Berger on the messianism within the Chabad movement

“The Two Israels: Can the Two Cultures of Zionism Co-Exist?”

SPRING
“Torah Codes: The Crucial Debate”
A popular topic in the 90s

SUMMER
Centennial Commemorative Edition—celebrating the 100th anniversary of the Orthodox Union
A tribute to the “Pioneers of Orthodoxy,” those engaged in the monumental task of bringing Orthodoxy to America

SPRING

WINTER
“Behind the Headlines of Yesha” 2005
2007

SUMMER
“Rabbi Israel Meir Lau: The Story of a Holocaust Orphan Who Became Chief Rabbi of Israel”
“Educating the Coming Generation”

SUMMER
“Remembering the Hebron Massacre” 2001

FALL
“The Tuition Squeeze: Paying the Price of Jewish Education”
2008


“Israel at 60”
2009

“50 Years in the Pulpit: Seven Veteran Rabbis Tell It Like It Was”
A roundtable discussion with Rabbis Rafael Grossman, Joseph Grunblatt, David Hollander, Dr. Gilbert Klaperman, Ralph Pelcovitz, Fabian Schonfeld and Max Schreier

SUMMER
“Surviving the Economic Crisis”
Responding to the 2008 recession
WINTER
“The New Face of Jewish Outreach”


SPRING
“Torah in the Digital Age”

FALL
“ 9/11: The Tenth Yahrtzeit”
Personal stories of those who were there
WINTER
“Striking a Balance: Work and Family”
Interviews with frum women who work full time—finding deep fulfillment in raising Torah-true families while contributing meaningfully in the workplace


SPRING
“Hurricane Sandy: A Spiritual Response”

WINTER
“The Rise of Neo-Chassidus”
A groundbreaking article on the Modern Orthodox rediscovery of Chassidic thought


SUMMER
“When Leaders Fail: Healing from Rabbinic Scandal”
Another landmark article on a sensitive topic, handled delicately and brilliantly by Rabbi Yitzchak Breitowitz
FALL
“Remembering Rav Aharon Lichtenstein”

FALL
“Orthodox Millennials: Understanding the New Generation”
WINTER
“Orthodoxy on the Move: Life Beyond New York”
Inspired by Saul Steinberg’s famous New Yorker cover, this cover, by illustrator Ann Diament Koffsky, shows the world as seen through frum eyes, putting Orthodox hubs front and center.

WINTER
“The Daf in the Digital Age”


FALL
“Memories of a Master: Rabbi Dr. Norman Lamm”

WINTER
“Reimagining Life After Covid”
“Rethinking the Economics of Frum Life”
Addressing the Orthodox community’s affordability crisis

WINTER
“Celebrating 100 Years of OU Kosher”
Exploring the history and growth of the world’s largest and most trusted kosher certification agency

SPRING
“Torah in the Age of Artificial Intelligence”


SUMMER
“Religion on the Battlefield”
Exploring the intersection of halachah and warfare
FALL
“The Great Jewish Awakening”
An analysis of the religious revival among Jews across the US sparked by October 7

SUMMER
“Voices of Valor”
Highlighting the courageous women who are advocating for Israel and the Jewish people
By Jonathan Dimbert
Counting Jews has always been complicated. Even in the Torah, Hashem tells Moshe to collect half-shekels instead of just counting heads (Shemot 30:12). Modern surveys are no easier. They use differing methods, are conducted infrequently and their
findings are often disputed. Still, enough consistent data exist to see a few clear trends.
Over the past four decades, the US Jewish population has grown only modestly, with big internal shifts: strong growth among Orthodox Jews, a sharp decline in Conservative Judaism and a large rise in Jews who
identify with no denomination, while Reform remained relatively steady.
Jonathan Dimbert is associate director of the OU’s Center for Communal Research, leveraging decades of experience in marketing research and strategy to guide mission-driven growth.
Since the 1980s, the world population grew by about 80 percent and the US population by about 50 percent (some of that from immigration).1 The Jewish population worldwide grew only about 20–30 percent,2 and in the US about 25 percent.3
Orthodox Jews make up a bigger share of US Jewry than forty years ago. In 1990, about 6 percent of Jews over age eighteen were Orthodox.4 By 2020, that number was around 9 percent—roughly 675,000 people.5 While modest in percentage terms, the Orthodox adult population nearly doubled in raw numbers since 1990—a 90-percent increase, in sharp contrast to the much slower overall growth of both world and US Jewry. Orthodox families have more than twice as many children as nonOrthodox families (3.3 vs. 1.4 children per adult),6 so fertility is the primary driver of growth—though the increase in the number of ba’alei teshuvah and converts also contributes.
Data from the Pew Research Center point to much higher rates of Orthodoxy among children. In 2013, an estimated 27 percent of all US Jewish children under eighteen lived in Orthodox households—nearly triple the adult share. In New York
City (2023), that share climbed to 64 percent of Jewish children.7
The number of Jews who say they have no religion or no denomination has risen sharply. In 1990, roughly 20 percent of Jews fell under “other” or “non-denomination.”8 By 2020, Pew found that about one-third (32 percent) of American Jews do not belong to any denomination.9 This group, sometimes referred to as “Jews for Nothing,” has more than doubled in raw numbers over four decades, a 117-percent increase. Different surveys use different categories, so exact percentages are not perfectly comparable, but the upward trend is clear and consistent.
In 1990, Reform and Conservative Jews were roughly equal, each making up about a third of US Jewry.10 By 2020, Reform remained steady at 37 percent, while Conservative had dropped to 17 percent.11 In raw numbers, Reform grew modestly (23 percent), while Conservative declined by nearly 40 percent. Many who left Conservative Judaism moved into Reform, though Reform itself has also lost members to the growing ranks of the unaffiliated.
Over the past forty years, American Jewry has undergone major shifts. The number of Orthodox Jews nearly doubled, rising from 6 percent to 9 percent of the adult population. Reform has held steady at about 37 percent, but that apparent stability masks gains from formerly Conservative Jews alongside losses to the unaffiliated. Conservative Judaism, by contrast, has declined sharply—dropping from 35 percent
of US Jewry to 17 percent and losing nearly 40 percent of its population. Meanwhile, Jews with no denominational identity have more than doubled and now comprise about one-third (32 percent) of the community. Yet overall Jewish population growth has remained modest, falling well behind both US and global growth rates.
Raw growth percentages are calculated using denominational totals from the 1990 National Jewish Population Survey and the 2020 Pew Research Center’s study, Jewish Americans in 2020.
Notes
1. United Nations, World Population Prospects (2022 revision); US Census Bureau, Historical National Population Estimates.
2. Jewish Virtual Library, “Jewish Population of the World,” based on Sergio DellaPergola, “World Jewish Population, 2021,” in The American Jewish Year Book, 2023, edited by Arnold Dashefsky and Ira M. Sheskin (Cham, SUI: Springer, 2024). Estimates for 1980 range from 12.0 to 12.8 million Jews worldwide; by 2020, estimates range from 14.8 to 15.1 million. Depending on which baseline is used, this represents growth of roughly 20–30 percent.
3. Council of Jewish Federations, 1990 National Jewish Population Survey (1991); Pew Research Center, Jewish Americans in 2020 (2021).
4. Council of Jewish Federations, 1990 National Jewish Population Survey (1991).
5. Pew Research Center, Jewish Americans in 2020 (2021).
6. Ibid.
7. Pew Research Center, A Portrait of Jewish Americans (2013), chap. 3; UJA-Federation of New York, “Children and Jewish Education,” The 2023 Jewish Community Study of New York (2023).
8. See n. 4.
9. See n. 5.
10. See n 4.
11. See n. 5.





















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By Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein
One of the most remarkable changes in the Orthodox world in recent decades has been the development and flowering of a popular culture independent of the non-Jewish world. There is no one date to link to this; it crept up on us, bit by bit. Cultural studies thinkers used to differentiate between high culture and low culture. That binary continues to be useful, even if it is now frowned upon outside of conservative circles. Applied to the Orthodox world, our high culture is Torah. Full stop. That is where we go for edification and uplift. Low culture includes popular literature, music, art, drama and media. For many decades, Orthodox Jews who sought these modes of expression and entertainment (and how many are there who do not?) had to go outside the community to find them.
This involved making sometimes difficult decisions about what was appropriate to bring into Jewish homes and what was not. Some succeeded far better than others.
Today, all of those expressions are available in home-grown versions. (We will ignore for the moment the ways non-Jewish culture continues to influence ours, unbeknownst to the end consumer.) Every one of them can be found with a kosher mezuzah attached. This has proven to be both a boon and a bane to Orthodox living.
On the one hand, navigating popular culture is far safer to the Jewish neshamah today than it was in the past. This has made possible a more robust, fuller chinuch of children. Through popular literature and music, we create a surrounding that is suffused with Torah values and good middot. So much that is valuable today can be communicated subliminally, where previously, staving off values contrary to Torah occupied much of our time.
On the other hand, this cultural independence and self-containment comes at a price. It is easy to slip into an isolationism that is not
This cultural independence and self-containment comes at a price. It is easy to slip into an isolationism that is not always healthy.
always healthy. It has become easier to banish everything that comes from outside our virtual walls as foreign, unwanted and negative. This distances some of us from the huge reservoirs of truth and beauty that exist there. It also endangers people spiritually when they discover that there is much that is attractive outside their bubble, despite having been taught that on the other side it is all darkness and ugliness.
Making it as effortless to grab culture as it is to grab products off a kosher supermarket shelf has another downside as well. Some of us have lost a tool that served us well in the past. Previously, we had to learn how to make informed decisions about what we culturally consumed. We had to apply critical thinking to those issues. That ability, like any other, atrophies when not used—and our cultural independence has allowed some of us to become lazy about its use.
This is a challenge for the Modern Orthodox community in particular, which has always prided itself on being more accepting and less isolationist. Will it continue to draw from the secular world, despite the awareness that its general drift runs more counter to Torah values than ever? Will it choose instead the comfort of a cultural environment produced and directed by insiders? Or will it—as it has in the past—steer a middle course between these options?
By Rabbi Menachem Genack
In 1980, when I came to the OU, I was the only fulltime rabbi working at OU Kosher headquarters. At the time, we certified about 300 companies. Now, the OU certifies over one million products in 15,000 facilities in more than one hundred countries around the globe. Due to the exponential growth we have experienced, we now have fifty-two full-time rabbinic coordinators (RCs) working out of the OU headquarters, each of whom oversees 850 mashgichim, or rabbinic field representatives (RFRs), across the globe.
The growth of the kashrut industry reflects political, economic and technological changes that have taken place in the world. Some of the expansion of kashrut supervision stems from the globalized world economy. In the past, most food and ingredients were produced domestically. With the rise of globalization, companies began to buy ingredients from all over the world—especially South America, Europe and Asia—which led to an enormous explosion in the kashrut business. As a result of the global nature of the industry, we now must take care to send mashgichim only to countries that are safe, consulting the guidelines of the US State Department. This is one way in which kashrut must now take into account global politics. This expansion of kashrut also created the possibility of specialization, and at the OU,
RCs each have specific areas of expertise—meat, fish, fowl, wine, dairy, flavors and so on. Our New Companies Department is another development that has contributed to the OU’s growth, while our Flavor Department works with the largest flavor manufacturers in the world—a crucial area of kashrut.
Another major development over the past forty-five years is technological. In 1980, nothing at the OU was computerized. As the world turned to computerization, we brought in a top IT professional, Sam Davidovics, who served as chief information officer. Among other achievements, he helped create the software for the OU’s Ingredient Approval Registry, a database with more than 2.4 million products. Our database includes both OU-certified products and products certified by other kosher certification agencies that have been assessed and approved by the OU. The ingredients are classified by kashrut sensitivity—
some require hashgachah temidit (constant supervision), while others require less intense scrutiny. This information serves as the foundation of kashrut supervision all over the world. The development of modern technology has therefore had a profound impact on how information about kashrut is stored and disseminated.
Looking to the future, new technologies present both opportunities and challenges for kashrut. For example, lab-grown meat has the potential to change the world of meat production, and addressing its status requires great halachic and technical expertise. The OU, with its access to talmidei chachamim with such specialized knowledge, has been at the forefront of exploring these new developments, continuing its mission of providing the highest quality of kosher food and knowledge in the complex world which we inhabit.
By Rabbi Dr. Hillel Goldberg
Orthodox print media have generally gone in the opposite direction of print media and have burgeoned enormously, while print media have drastically shrunk. Many American newspapers have gone out of business, and almost all large American dailies are but a shadow of their former selves. Literacy has dropped. Attention spans have declined. But Orthodox Jewry, taken as a whole, continues to read, the ubiquity of smartphones and of online Torah notwithstanding. Orthodox Jewry values the printed word, in part intrinsically and in part because of repugnance over the easy access to salacious material electronically.
Thus, the Orthodox trajectory since the 1980s charts not only the growth of the Orthodox media that existed forty years ago, but also the successful launch of many new newspapers and magazines.
Living in Jerusalem in the 1970s and early 1980s, I could read one, perhaps two, weekly Orthodox newspapers. Now, I can’t even count how many exist, and not
just in Jerusalem, but all over Israel. Or, to take another example, the daily Hebrew-language Hamodia back then was a few pages. That slim size is now long forgotten.
Coming ashore to the US, when I first contributed to Jewish Action in the 80s, it was a few pages on newsprint. Its growth in quality and quantity is incalculable. The weekly Yated Ne’eman was also slim forty years ago. Today it is perhaps seven to eight times as large. Forty years ago, Ami Magazine did not exist, nor did Mishpacha. Also, there is now Binah Magazine. There is a daily Hamodia, and the weekly Hamodia publishes in several sections.
“Orthodox” is not only “Chareidi.” In the past few years, HaMizrachi has grown from a few issues a year to almost monthly, and it is published on several continents! There are now Orthodox newspapers that cater to local Jewish communities in New York and New Jersey. Taken all around, almost any Orthodox Jew can find a printed medium that meets his taste and viewpoint.
The growth arc of Orthodox media is their primary distinguishing characteristic, but these media are not inured from the drop in attention span that has wrought havoc onto print media
in general. It is true that all of the Orthodox media feature long and serious pieces, but most of them are also filled with little boxes, tidbits, short features, graphic grabs—all a concession to the overall drift from what media used to be.
There certainly are distinct differences within the Orthodox media field. For very well-thoughtout coverage of issues—and for moving short essays—I open Jewish Action. For a concentration on Torah, I prefer Yated. For courageous journalism, I like Ami. For tremendous insights into Israelis at war, I look to HaMizrachi. For hard-core news and human-interest features, I read Hamodia. For overall reach, I settle into Mishpacha. There are more quality Orthodox publications out there, the longest standing being the Jewish Press, which, together with the (late) Jewish Observer, initially paved the way. Neither I, nor anyone else, I imagine, can read every Orthodox publication out there.
One final note: Orthodox Judaism finds its place not only in a burgeoning Orthodox media, but in a greater presence in Jewish community media. There are more Orthodox Jews than there were forty years ago. It is noticed. It is catered to.

By Nachum Segal, as told to Sandy Eller
When it comes to Jewish music, the difference between 1985 and 2025 isn’t just forty years, it is night and day.
Of course, there are artists who have come and gone, and styles and genres have evolved, but to me, the biggest difference in Jewish music over the past four decades is the way music is produced and consumed.
Think about it. In 1985 you had vinyl records and cassettes, and recording a ten-song album was an expensive investment. You had to rent studio time, hire an arranger and get all the musicians in the same room at the same time, because that’s how music was produced. And if you weren’t composing your own songs, you had to pay for that too.
The industry was tiny back then, not just because there were fewer Jews consuming music but also because the only people who had any inclination to produce material either had significant financial resources or were confident enough in their success to invest six months of their lives and tens of thousands of dollars in an album.
Fast forward forty years, and things are very different. People have home recording studios, and parts of songs can be recorded in any corner of the world, which makes the cost of producing a single substantially lower. There is definitely a glut of Jewish music out there, and on any given day, I can receive ten to fifteen new singles. It’s practically impossible for the average listener to know who is worth listening to unless he pays careful attention to songs as they’re released on social media or on the simchah scene.
For me, I love how easy it is to set up an iTunes playlist for JM in the AM, which is so much easier than queueing up records as I used to. Still, I miss the days when there were concerts every weekend that you could really enjoy once we changed to standard time. Even the biggest superstars didn’t charge much, so mid-level shuls and communities could host a nice concert. There were times when I could emcee concerts five Saturday nights in a row, but today, for the most part, big concert productions are a thing of the past.
One of the most amazing things to change in the past forty years is how Jewish music has become cool for the younger generation. We’re way past the day when Jewish music meant Art Raymond or cantorial music, and it isn’t uncommon for a Modern Orthodox school or camp to have a kumzits with Eitan Katz, Shlomo Katz, Aryeh Kunstler, Benny Friedman or
With today’s style, excitement and lyrics, Jewish music has really started to appeal to the younger generation, which was unheard of forty years ago. That is a truly amazing development and one that Jewish music can truly be proud of.
any one of a number of popular artists. With today’s style, excitement and lyrics, Jewish music has really started to appeal to the younger generation, which was unheard of forty years ago. That is a truly amazing development and one that Jewish music can truly be proud of.






Written by experts in the eld, the third volume of the Medical Halachah Annual explores questions of Jewish law for physicians, patients, and students, o ering insights into the application of halachic principles to complex medical situations.

Dr. Edward Lebovics, MD, Editor
Rabbi Aviyam Levinson, Managing Editor
CONTRIBUTORS INCLUDE
Edward Lebovics, MD
Jonah (Yonah) Rubin, MD
Rabbi Shlomo Brody, PhD
Rabbi Dr. Jason Weiner, BCC
Nachum B. Lebovics, MD
Rabbi Yona Reiss
Mickey E. Abraham, MD
Rabbi Daniel Reich
Rabbi Baruch Fogel
Zvi Ryzman
Rabbi Chaim Jachter
Rabbi Jeremy (Zev) Mehlman, DO
Sheindel Ifrah Goldfiez, DO
Rabbi Alexander Langer






Rabbi Moshe Rotberg
Martin Grajower, MD
Jonathan Mazurek, MD
Rabbi Akiva Willig
Sharon Galper Grossman, MD
Rabbi David J. Katz, DDS


Rabbi Avi Libman, MD
Deborah Elstein, PhD
Edward C. Halperin, MD, MA
Edward C. Halperin, MD, MA
By Rabbi Gil Student
Forty years ago, the landscape of Torah study looked very different. I remember attending the Agudath Israel of America Daf Yomi Siyum in 1990 and being amazed at the 20,000 attendees praying together. In contrast, the same siyum in 2020 filled a 90,000-seat stadium and an additional 15,000-seat venue. In order to learn Daf Yomi in 1990, a small group gathered in my Teaneck shul and listened to a cassette tape of Rabbi Fischel Schachter. Today there are five Daf Yomi shiurim at my nearby shul and countless Daf Yomi shiurim around the country. And technology offers access to hundreds of shiurim on any smartphone.
The formal education system mirrors this growth. Enrollment in Jewish day schools and yeshivah high schools has more than doubled since the mid-1980s, creating an entire generation for whom Torah study is foundational (https://avichai.org/wp-content/ uploads/2019/11/AVI-CHAICensus-2018-2019-v3.pdf ). The popular post high-school year in Israel has strengthened both textual skills and commitment to Torah life, producing a generation fluent in serious learning. Popular supplementary programs such as parent-child learning programs and summer learning camps have further woven Torah study into communal life.
Beth Medrash Govoha in Lakewood, New Jersey, grew from over 1,000 students in 1985 to over 9,000 in 2025, making it one of the
largest Torah centers in the world. In 1985, there were fewer than a dozen community kollels across North America. Now more than seventy community kollels have taken root in cities large and small, transforming local Jewish life. This growth in yeshivah attendance and community kollels directly affects the growth of lay learning.
Many more lay people in 2025 spent significant amounts of time learning seriously in a yeshivah. As already mentioned, the growth of popularity of the gap year in Israel has also greatly increased the number of people who have spent time studying Torah at a high level in yeshivah. Additionally, community kollels cultivate interest through a variety of adult Torah learning options. All these and other factors have successfully created a culture of serious adult Torah study. Technology became an unexpected catalyst, speeding things along in ways no one anticipated. The internet and smartphone, with all their spiritual dangers, have significantly contributed to the growth of Torah learning. With OUTorah, All Daf, YUTorah, TorahAnytime and countless other apps, websites and podcasts, Torah study now transcends place and time. Covid-19, though isolating, unleashed a wave of digital Torah that continues today—Zoom shiurim, WhatsApp chavrutot and YouTube shiurim accessible at any hour. The publication explosion that started with ArtScroll and continued with many others in English and Hebrew has generated massive libraries of not only Torah content but tools to help people learn classical texts that previously were inaccessible and even prepare
readers to give their own shiurim. Thanks in part to the publication and technology revolutions, mass learning movements have flourished, including but not limited to Daf Yomi. Other Yomi programs (e.g., Nach and Mishnah), as well as other structured Talmud programs (e.g., Amud Yomi) and halachah programs (e.g., Semichas Chaver), have gained a significant following. There are groups of Torah learners around the world studying standardized materials in tandem and supported by centralized teachers.
At the same time, the revolution in women’s Torah study has reshaped the community’s intellectual map. The growth of high school Talmud programs for young women and the creation of programs such as Yeshiva University’s GPATS and Nishmat have enabled generations of women to study Gemara and halachic texts. The OU Women’s Initiative is a prime example of the serious Torah study programs for women that are currently thriving. What was once almost an afterthought is growing to be a central feature of Jewish life— serious Torah study as a lifelong pursuit for both men and women. While the Jewish people never abandoned the Torah, the past forty years has seen a dramatic increase in Torah study as part of the normative Orthodox lifestyle from youth through later life. The challenge of the next forty years will be ensuring that this unprecedented access deepens not only knowledge but commitment to living Torah in letter and in spirit in daily life.

By Rebbetzin Dr. Adina Shmidman
The sound of Torah learning has changed. Once, it was the soft click of a cassette slipping into a tape recorder; today, it’s the familiar ping of a podcast notification. Yet the desire remains the same—to connect to Torah, to our teachers and to one another. Over the past forty years, that connection has found new expression—moving from tape to touchscreen, from distance to immediacy, from isolation to shared inspiration.
For women, this transformation has been especially profound. Torah study is no longer bound by subject, time or place. More than what women are studying these days, the most significant change in women’s Torah is how women are studying. With podcasts, Zoom and digital platforms, Torah has become something you can carry—with you on a walk, over morning coffee or on the commute home. These innovations have not only expanded access but also raised the caliber of teaching. Today’s women educators, shaped by years of advanced Torah and academic study, bring both depth and connection to their classrooms. They make Torah feel not only timeless, but timely—a wisdom that meets us where we are.
Over the past four decades, women’s Torah learning has evolved from a limited sphere to a vibrant global movement. The post–Bais Yaakov generation saw the growth of seminaries in Israel and abroad, graduate-level programs that equipped women to teach, write and lead, as well as other advancements. The questions once asked—what can women learn?—have been replaced by where and with whom will we learn next? From cassette-recorded shiurim mailed to your house to
livestreamed classes, accessibility has expanded alongside aspiration. The cumulative result is a community of women who view Torah study not as an option, but as an essential dimension of Jewish life.
My personal passion for Torah study and teaching did not emerge in a vacuum; it was born from generations who revered Jewish learning. Jewish education was the heartbeat of my family—my grandparents and parents all studied formally, each generation carrying forward a deep reverence and respect for Torah learning. Both of my grandmothers were privileged to receive formal Torah education—one at Yeshivah of Flatbush in Brooklyn in the 1930s, the other at Telshe Yavne, a high school for girls in Lithuania—rare opportunities for women of their day. In my office hangs a letter my great-grandfather wrote to his children, asking them to promise they would study diligently, for he was making sacrifices to give them a Jewish education. That simple, handwritten note is my daily reminder that Torah learning has always required both devotion and vision. Those values continue to guide me—from my years as a classroom teacher to my work today with the OU Women’s Initiative.
In recent years, I have witnessed firsthand how dramatically women’s Torah learning has accelerated. A defining moment came with the launch of the Torat Imecha Nach Yomi initiative in 2020. Nach Yomi, a daily study cycle covering all of Nevi’im and Ketuvim over two years, had long existed, though it was traditionally taught by men. Introducing women educators into this space created a historic milestone—perhaps the largest Navi classroom in Jewish history. The
timing, aligned with the global Siyum HaShas celebrations, captured the momentum of a world newly inspired by daily learning.
What has been most remarkable is not only the reach of Nach Yomi but the sense of community it built. Thousands of women now study the same text each day, joining local chaburot, WhatsApp groups and virtual gatherings. Torah has become a daily companion—woven into commutes, kitchens and conversations—turning individual study into a collective expression of faith and growth. Seeing women’s voices at the center of Torah teaching affirms both their capacity and their contribution, offering role models for the next generation who see that Torah scholarship belongs to them too.
Looking ahead, I hope women’s Torah learning continues to flourish—anchored both in the accessibility of technology and the strength of in-person connection. The next step is to see learning centers in every community, places where women gather regularly to learn, discuss and grow together. When Torah is studied both online and around the table, the reach of technology joins with the warmth of community—each deepening the other.
The seeds have already been planted. In the next forty years, I am confident they will blossom into a global chorus of women united through Torah—each voice adding its own note to the eternal song of Jewish learning.
Rebbetzin Dr. Adina Shmidman is director of the OU Women’s Initiative.

In 1985, the dominant “voice” of American Jewry in Washington, DC’s halls of power was the troika of Jewish “defense” organizations—the Anti-Defamation League, American Jewish Congress and American Jewish Committee. These groups promoted a secular and liberal agenda focused on “separation of church and state” together with broad promotion of civil rights laws to protect religious, racial and gender minorities from discrimination. While some aspects of this agenda dovetailed with the interests of American Orthodox Jews, many others did not.
The secular Jewish organizations vigorously opposed any legislation, regulations or court rulings that might allow government support for shuls, day schools and other religious institutions. Orthodox leaders viewed that as not only counter to our community’s interests, but also contrary to religious Jews having equal standing in law and society—alongside their
By Nathan Diament
secular counterparts.1
Orthodox leaders responded and began to assert the unique voice of our community. In 1989, Agudath Israel of America established an office in Washington, DC. The Orthodox Union followed suit a decade later in 1999—opening the OU Advocacy Center. In the ensuing decades, Orthodox Jewish advocacy has scored many important accomplishments.
First, the misperception of American Jewry and monolithically liberal has been broken. No leading policymaker, journalist or thought leader is unaware that there are differences between Orthodox and secular Jews on many key issues.
Second, Orthodox Jewish advocacy has yielded critical policy victories advancing the community’s values and interests. These include:
• The creation of the Nonprofit Security Grant Program— providing millions of dollars to shuls and schools to support their security needs;
• The enactment of federal laws protecting religious liberty including the Religious Freedom Restoration Act and the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act;
• Regulatory and policy decisions by Cabinet agencies that include shuls and other houses of worship in government grants programs (i.e., for disaster relief, historic preservation, energy efficiency projects and more);
• And most recently, the enactment of the Educational Choice for Children Act—the nation’s largest-ever federal “school choice” program that will provide tax credits for donations to scholarship organizations that can subsidize attendance at day schools and yeshivot. These and countless other examples show that the decisions of our community’s leaders—nearly forty years ago—to establish our own voice in the public policy arena was wise and has paid off.
Note
1. See Michael A. Helfand, “Equal Funding as Equal Standing: The Orthodox Jewish Advocacy Project,” Sources, https://www.sourcesjournal. org/articles/equal-funding-as-equalstanding-the-orthodox-jewishadvocacy-project.
By Rabbi Avraham Edelstein
n the aftermath of the Six-Day War in 1967, there was an outpouring of teshuvah in Israeli society. Although it was a bit of a false start, we soon learned it wasn’t a one-time spiritual awakening. Fifty-eight years later, Jews are still returning.
It’s simply fake news to say that outreach has slowed down. Yes, kiruv has gotten harder—because nonOrthodox Jews are now a generation further removed from Yiddishkeit, because the Israeli backpacker phenomenon has faded, and because of the collapse of the Conservative movement (whose decline eliminated a key source of “low-hanging fruit”— Jews already somewhat engaged). But we’ve mobilized vastly greater numbers of outreach professionals. I remember just four full-time campus rabbis in North America in the 1990s—today, Olami and Chabad support over 500. Additionally, the OU’s Jewish Learning Initiative on Campus (JLIC) program, while catering mostly to Orthodox students, serves as a support for all Jews on twenty-four American campuses.
Machon Yaakov joined Machon Shlomo, both yeshivahs equipping students with the knowledge to reclaim their heritage—and both are full every year. Neve College for Women, dedicated to educating women returning to their roots, has just as many students per year as it did decades ago. (The difference is
that back in the 80s and 90s, students stayed for one to two years; now they come for one to six months—mostly on the shorter end.) Today, there are six seminaries in Jerusalem for women exploring their heritage, not just one.
New initiatives—like Israel trips, Olami Souled (free guided Jewish learning with a coach), JInternship (interns tackle résumé-building pursuits while tapping into their Jewish identity), and NCSY’s The Anne Samson Jerusalem Journey (TJJ), its premier Israel experience for public school and unaffiliated teens— inspire thousands of men and women each year who want to learn more about Judaism, and some go on to become frum. These ba’alei teshuvah have been joined by tens of thousands of converts around the world—people of the highest caliber.
The first wave of ba’al teshuvah leaders were towering figures: Rabbis Nachman Bulman, Mendel Weinbach, Noach Weinberg, Nota Schiller, Yaakov Rosenberg and, yibadel l’chaim, Rabbi Dovid Refson. Some, like Rabbi Josh Freilich in England and Rabbi Meir Schuster, were one-man institutions. Others, such as Rabbi Emanuel Feldman in Atlanta, Rabbi Eliezer Ben David in Buenos Aires and Rabbi Mordechai Shakovitsky in Johannesburg, became great builders of yeshivot and communities.
Decades ago, campus kiruv was virtually nonexistent. In the US, the small-town kollel emerged as a new model—a perfect segue for young kollel couples leaving Jerusalem or Lakewood into a more full-time kiruv (or other klei kodesh) role. It was an exciting time: every city wanted a kollel, and three to five new initiatives
launched each year. The model demanded a lot of work, but it was, for the most part, straightforward. Nowadays, the kollelim and traditional outreach centers are still active, but they’re no longer driving the kiruv world. In part, that’s because most cities that could have a kollel already do. And in part, it’s because two giant movements—Olami and Chabad—now dominate the outreach scene, while NCSY continues to have a huge impact on the high school level. These two movements led the campus revolution, driven by the belief that this is the age when real change happens. Today, their focus has expanded to include the young professional demographic—now involving hundreds of outreach professionals in North America alone. As global organizations, they can roll out innovative programs; fund trips to Israel, Poland and beyond; set metrics and standards; and leverage resources to create broad-based alignment. Do I miss the old warm-and-fuzzy, “mom-and-pop” era of kiruv—when we all showed up at the AJOP convention, swapped notes, and gave it our best shot, accountable to no one but ourselves and our Maker? Do I miss the days when an Israel trip meant hiring a minibus and staying at the Heritage House? Sure. But I also recognize that those methods wouldn’t work in today’s world. I’m just as thrilled to be serving the Jewish people through the kiruv movement in its new form as I was in its old one.
By Rabbi Micah Greenland
Ifirst encountered NCSY in the 1980s, as an elementary school kid in Rochester, New York. What drew me in were the Nerf football games at Monday night “Jr. NCSY meetings” in the basement of Congregation Beth Sholom. What kept me there was something far more enduring: the sense of community, connectedness and inspiration. Those same ingredients of warmth, fun, meaningful and inspiring experiences and relatable role models are still the heartbeat of NCSY today. They remain the most effective way to touch lives and inspire Jewish growth.
What has changed most dramatically is where and how we find Jewish teens, and in turn, a marked increase in the number of teens with whom we are able to connect. In the 1980s, the entry point was often the synagogue.
Today, teens are more likely to be reached in their schools, through online communities or in whatever sub-space aligns with their interests. For example, Jewish Student Union (JSU) clubs bring Jewish experiences directly into public schools, engaging teens who might not otherwise seek out Jewish programs. Summer programs reach teens across the spectrum of religious backgrounds and interests, often appealing to a niche or special interest. Some, like Next Step Israel Internships and Hatzalah Rescue, provide immersive skill-building and professional experiences alongside deep Jewish inspiration. Others, like GIVE and JOLT, focus on chesed, allowing teens to connect to communities throughout Israel through acts of kindness.
Parents now play a much larger role as well, wanting to be involved
in their teens’ journeys, which calls for a broader understanding of family dynamics and community support. Meeting teens where they are today requires flexibility, awareness and a holistic approach that considers both the teens and their wider world.
The method of connecting has shifted, but the core remains the same. NCSY continues to invest in teens through relationships and inspiration. In doing so, we live out our mission: to inspire in every Jewish teen the desire to learn, grow and reach their individual potential as Jews and as members of the community. That combination has always been, and continues to be, the key to sparking enduring Jewish connection.
T
his is one bottle that should be judged by its label. A bottle of Tuscanini unfiltered extra virgin olive oil is a unique elixir deserving of the same consideration as quality wine.
Each carafe contains nothing but unadulterated, Italian olives, hand-picked and pressed at the peak of their maturity for exceptional flavor and full-bodied mouthfeel.



By Dr. Rona Novick, as told to Sandy Eller
It goes without saying that education has certainly changed over the past forty years. But it isn’t just that there are four more decades of happenings and events that need to be incorporated into our school curricula. Our entire approach to educating students has evolved, and while schools were once a place of rigid routines, boredom and even misery, at least for some children, today’s academic institutions have become places of growth where students can thrive.
Decades ago, education was envisioned as the process of pouring knowledge into empty vessels—students. But that has changed, with teachers realizing that it is their job to give their young charges the tools they need to succeed in today’s world. Educators transitioned from frontal teaching—being “the sage on the stage”—to the more constructive “guide on the side” model, with independent problem solving and cooperative learning being just two of the many ways that teachers help students grow and build knowledge.
Rote memorization is largely a relic of the past. Instead, educators explain and directly teach components of a particular skill, providing opportunities to practice that new technique. Teachers also help students apply previously
acquired problem-solving skills to new challenges, while providing feedback that gives students opportunities to self-correct.
Jewish learning, in particular, has undergone a significant transformation. Our schools are invested in instilling in students an affinity to being lifelong learners. It’s not just about “let me teach you how to learn while you’re here” but rather “let me teach you so that you can live a Jewish life, and continue learning our sacred texts, history and ways so that you can incorporate them into your life.” One example of that model would be a Jewish studies class that was slated to teach the laws of kashrut. Rather than using worksheets or texts, the teacher had the class delve into the kashrut status of Starbucks’ fancy coffees, an assignment that involved students in researching kashrut, manufacturing and franchising processes. Even relatively young students can be engaged in projectand problem-based learning using resources such as books, videos and computers to collect information and analyze problems.
My belief in the importance of watching children and learning from their observations is as true today as it was forty years ago. Taking the time to understand students’ struggles can provide a wellspring of information. A student who is consistently late handing in book reports might not be lazy, but may just be getting stuck on beginning the assignments, or may have trouble planning how to use their time. Gaining a thorough understanding of the student is critical and can help teachers generate useful prescriptions to help students
overcome personal challenges.
Even as teachers benefit from their wellspring of experience as they return to the classroom each year, it is critical that they reflect on what has worked in the past and understand that their approach to education must evolve. Old approaches aren’t always the best choice in a new world.
It’s not just about ‘let me teach you how to learn while you’re here,’ but rather ‘let me teach you so that you can live a Jewish life, and continue learning our sacred texts, history and ways so that you can incorporate them into your life.’
By Rabbi Michoel Druin
Ibegan my career in education as a middle school teacher in the late 1980s. Back then, we were trained to use the “blackboard” (which was really green) with precision, and to brighten lessons with different colored chalk.
Our classroom management training came from Lee Canter’s Assertive Discipline, a program built on the conviction that every child could be motivated to learn and behave. That was the mindset of the time; no exceptions.
I walked into my first classroom convinced that I had the chance to make a lasting positive impact on my students’ lives. I was eager to try anything—any method, any approach—that might help me succeed.
In those days, terms like ADD/ ADHD, inclusion, differentiated instruction or neurodiverse
learners were just beginning to surface in educational circles. They weren’t part of our training. The expectation was simple: if a student was in your class, you found a way to reach that child.
Looking back now—and reconnecting with former students—I can see how many of those so-called “difficult students” that I had in my class went on to thrive in business, education, law and beyond. Some almost certainly had ADHD or were on the spectrum, though we didn’t have that language then. Somehow, we managed. They did the best they could as students, and I did the best I could as their teacher.
Teaching in a Jewish day school brought with it an added layer of urgency and purpose. Each morning, we recited the Shema, which expresses our obligation to teach as educators and as parents. “Veshinantam levanecha,” refers to the teacher’s responsibility to “teach them thoroughly to your children,” and “velimadetem otam et bneichem,” alludes to the parents’ responsibility. The Shema
makes no exceptions for difficulty, nor for ADHD. That spiritual imperative pushed us all—teachers, students and parents alike—to work harder. The Torah expects us to teach, no matter the challenge. That conviction gave us extra determination to see our students succeed.
Today, educators are blessed with far more tools and insights. We can name challenges and address them more effectively. We can differentiate instruction methods. We can give students options for how to demonstrate mastery—through an essay, a poster or a video presentation. We can tailor goals and pace content to a child’s unique needs. And yes, when appropriate, we can use medication as one more tool of support.
And yet, for all the progress, one thing hasn’t changed. Every teacher still begins the year, just as I did nearly forty years ago, with the conviction that we are blessed with an extraordinary gift: the opportunity to make a lasting, positive impact on our students’ lives.
By Dr. Noam Wasserman
Ever since Avraham Avinu set out on a journey that reshaped human history, Jews have embodied an entrepreneurial spirit. From Levi Strauss, who democratized clothing with the invention of blue jeans, to Henrietta Szold, whose Hadassah helped lay the foundation of Israel’s public health system, Jewish entrepreneurs have consistently reshaped industries, societies and communities. Rabbi Meir Shapiro’s founding of the Daf Yomi program, which recently marked its 100th anniversary, was itself an entrepreneurial act in Torah learning, scaling daily study into a global movement.
Forty years ago, Jewish entrepreneurship was most visible in finance, real estate and consumer brands. Entrepreneurs built fortunes, then often channeled them into philanthropy that strengthened day schools, synagogues and communal organizations. At the time, entrepreneurship was largely understood as business success followed by charitable
Dr. Noam Wasserman is head of school of The Ramaz School (“Yeshivat Ramaz”), is dean emeritus of the Sy Syms School of Business at Yeshiva University, and was a professor of entrepreneurship at Harvard Business School for thirteen years.
giving. Today, the picture looks very different. Jewish founders are not only creating wealth but are building platforms and ecosystems that transform daily life. Sergey Brin co-founded Google; Mark Zuckerberg cofounded Facebook; Judith Faulkner built Epic, which manages most of America’s electronic health records; and Sefaria has redefined access to Torah texts by marrying Jewish learning with open-source technology.
Israel epitomizes this transformation. In 1985, its economy was aid-dependent, inflation-ridden and dominated by agriculture and state-run industries. The word entrepreneur usually referred to the owner of a small business. Four decades later, Israel ranks no. 3 in the world for start-up ecosystems, is home to thousands of active start-ups, and invests over 6 percent of its GDP in R&D— one of the highest rates globally. Governments now send delegations not with aid packages but to learn how to build entrepreneurial ecosystems of their own.
What explains this disproportionate success? Beyond capital and technology, the answer lies in values. The same middot Jews have cultivated for millennia— resilience, humility and sensitivity in bein adam lachaveiro—are precisely the traits demanded by entrepreneurship. My research at
Harvard Business School was built on the insight that 65 percent of start-up success stems not from the product or business model but from how founders navigate “people problems.” Jewish thought has long emphasized that success in life hinges on relationships and integrity—the lifeblood of bein adam lachaveiro. This spirit has infused not only businesses but also synagogues, schools and service organizations. From Avraham Avinu’s first steps into the unknown to Orthodox Jews now shaping global innovation, our people have always understood that the greatest journeys begin with vision, courage and faith. The next forty years may see an even deeper integration of Torah values with entrepreneurial daring—ensuring that our creativity not only changes the world, but elevates it as well.








Kevura in Yerushalayim is the highest honor, yet can be fraught with a web of impossible logistics: negotiating for a scarce plot, transport from America, and Shiva overseas are common challenges.
Sha’ar is now building two new boutique cemeteries to a standard of construction and aesthetic unmatched in Israeli burials. Beyond a beautiful plot, their unparalleled service ensures that with one single call, every essential detail is expertly managed.
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Our magnificent new cemeteries will be developed on private land: an exclusive extension of Har HaMenuchot, and the last available land for development on Har HaZeitim
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Exceptional access, including ample pathways and parking
Complete handholding from Tahara through Shiva
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Large elevators to fit the niftar and a minyan
Sales have successfully begun and chelkos are being formed.




By Eli Langer
omething interesting happened in 1981, five years before I was born.
The federal government, for the first time, allowed most workers in the United States to open an individual retirement account. Up until then, most people who wanted to save for retirement—if they did at all—would resort to stuffing their mattresses or letting cash sit in a bank account with little to no growth. Fast forward four decades, and IRAs and 401(k)s are embedded in Jewish life almost as naturally as Thursday-night cholent. What was once unfamiliar is now second nature.
From people putting money into a 401(k) to earn a match from an
employer to young couples speaking with a financial advisor (for free, courtesy of LivingSmarterJewish.org) on how to save for their children’s weddings, being smart with money is becoming mainstream in the frum world. And with the advent of on-screen tutorials, apps and automation, it’s easier than ever to get started.
Those who do get a head start are better off for it. As Kosher Money podcast guest Tamar Snyder Chaitovsky explained, assuming a modest 7.8 percent annual growth rate, “When your child is born, if you invest $7,500 and never invest another penny, then by the time that child is sixty-five, the total amount of your initial investment will be
That shift toward financial literacy and forward thinking may be one of the most significant changes in Orthodox Jewish life over the past generation.
over a million dollars.”
Forty years ago, few in our community thought seriously about retirement planning. Today, conversations about 401(k) matches, Roth IRAs and long-term investing are common at the office and in WhatsApp chats.
That shift toward financial literacy and forward thinking may be one of the most significant changes in Orthodox Jewish life over the past generation.
By Rabbi Menachem Penner
Not so long ago, the synagogue rabbi was less a person than a presence: an Authority (capital A), a figure approached with awe, petitioned with trembling questions of halachah or family or faith, and always seen from a careful, almost ceremonial distance. The weight of the office came from that distance, from the fact that the rabbi was a man you didn’t imagine catching in line at the bagel shop or replying to your WhatsApp message at midnight. And yet, that model has collapsed under the conditions of our time, replaced by something more challenging and more human: a demand for rabbis not just to teach Torah but to embody it in the minutiae of their personal lives; not to perform roles but to live lives authentically, in full view, sharing messy or vulnerable life moments as well.
A rabbi’s influence today is no longer measured solely by eloquence from the pulpit, but by his presence in the shul lobby, at hospital bedsides, through late-night WhatsApp exchanges or across bagel shop tables. So the very notion of a “pulpit rabbi” misses the mark.
Pulpits are furniture that separate the rabbi from his community. The modern rabbinate demands stepping out from behind it, literally and figuratively.
Technology has amplified this shift exponentially. In the 1980s, rabbinic reach was confined to those in the pews. Today, messages stream online, divrei Torah circulate on social media and congregants expect instant access. This connectivity has blurred boundaries and intensified pressure, while pushing rabbis toward constant authentic engagement with their communities.
Just listen to the questions that land on a rabbi’s desk—or inbox or late-night phone line—these days: less about ritual minutiae, more about loneliness, mental health, doubts that cut to the bone of belief itself. Rabbis aren’t expected to solve every problem or answer every question, but to listen, care and guide with genuine honesty. The expectation isn’t perfection but authenticity: “Can I trust that my rabbi truly sees, hears and walks with me?”
Rabbinic education has adapted accordingly. The Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary
Rabbis aren’t expected to solve every problem or answer every question, but to listen, care and guide with genuine honesty.
(RIETS) at Yeshiva University now trains future rabbis not only in study and teaching, but also in counseling, communication and meaningful connection. Students may take emotional-intelligence assessments alongside their bechinot in Yoreh Deah.
The role has grown heavier. Today’s rabbis shoulder enormous expectations with fewer protective barriers. Yet the results have been transformative. When authority pairs with authenticity, Torah leadership becomes deeply personal.
The Rabbinical Council of America has evolved to meet this reality, pivoting toward mentoring and supporting rabbis to sustain relational leadership. Policymaking is now complemented by affinity groups and mental-health resources where rabbis candidly share the challenges of this demanding new model.
Perhaps the most profound change in the rabbinate over four decades is that rabbinic power no longer rests primarily in eloquent words delivered from behind the pulpit, but in the authenticity demonstrated when stepping out from behind it: meeting people where they are, as they are.
ow has Jewish literature changed or evolved over the past forty years?
The first thing that comes to mind is adjectives. Back in the day, frum writers piled them on, mostly because we didn’t know any better, and because every time we stuck a four-syllable adjective in our essays—apoplectic, scintillating, effervescent, lachrymose, mendicant, gargantuan, you name it—our English teachers cheered, thrilled that we’d used an adjective. No wonder we all overdosed on those noun accessories. Today’s writing is leaner and less cluttered, for which I’m thankful. (Part of that is due to our decreasing attention span.)
Second observation: We’re no longer the People of the Book, but the People of the Magazine. I fear people aren’t buying books anymore because magazines satisfy the reading urge. It’s happening everywhere—in both religious and mainstream populations—and our society is suffering for it. In my online engagement with Israel bashers on left-wing platforms,
By Ruchama Feuerman
I’ll ask: What books have you read on the topic? They go silent, then defensive. And I’ll respond: So you’re fine with condemning over half the world’s Jews on the basis of a few articles you may have read? It’s scary, but that same shallow bookless thinking is coming our way, too. At least, thank G-d, we have Shabbat, which compels us to get off our devices and perchance to open a book.
Which brings me to my third observation: Call it the right-wing, black-hat or Yeshivish world, but the right-wing community takes the reading needs of its population seriously. Witness the plethora of novels, short stories, books for kids getting published every year that are Yeshivish-oriented. Some frum novels—frovels—make for unbearably treacly reading, but you know what? With so many people devoted to writing, frum literature can’t help but eventually rise in quality.
And I wonder: Where is the writing surge in the Modern Orthodox or Centrist communities? Yeshivish literature generally doesn’t appeal to those
Where is the writing surge in the Modern Orthodox or Centrist communities? . . . So, what’s a Centrist teen—or adult—supposed to read?
in the Modern Orthodox camp. So, what’s a Centrist teen—or adult— supposed to read? Obviously, Jewish literature doesn’t have to reinforce one’s involvement in a Torah life, but at least it shouldn’t alienate you from it. Many fine novels written by the formerly religious leave a bitter taste. It would be worthwhile to compile a list of novels, short stories and memoirs that do deepen and reflect one’s experience of a Modern Orthodox life. To name a few: Yael Unterman’s short story collection, The Hidden of Things , and Sarah Lavane’s memoir, Unmatched. And as a teen, I remember devouring Milton Steinberg’s As a Driven Leaf countless times. I treasured that book.
Ruchama Feuerman, author of the novels Seven Blessings (St. Martin’s Press, 2004) and In the Courtyard of the Kabbalist (New York Review Books, 2014), is a book developmental editor and lives in New Jersey with her family.


“Torah is a commentary on life, and life is a commentary on Torah.”
RABBI LORD JONATHAN SACKS
from korenpub.com or




As a fourth grader, I loved Nancy Drew books. They had almost everything: action, mystery and a detective who was a girl—just like me! But something was missing.
Then one day, my day school librarian handed me The Whispering Mezuzah by Carol Korb Hubner (Judaica Press,1979). Like the Nancy Drew series, Hubner’s book was about a girl detective. But this time she was also frum—just like me! I eagerly gobbled it up. But when I asked for more, the librarian didn’t have anything to share. I had to return to Nancy.
Today, there are still frum children searching for their next read. But unlike me, they’ll easily be able to find what they’re looking for.
Color printing used to be costprohibitive. Today, it costs almost the same as black-and-white. That makes it easier for frum publishers to create children’s content, which often features beautifully colored illustrations. There are also more customers now, as the number of Orthodox families continues to grow and they seek out children’s books that reflect their values.
And not just books—graphic novels and comics, too. Such
Ann Diament Koffsky is the author, and sometimes illustrator, of more than fifty Jewish books for kids, including Ping-Pong Shabbat (Little Bee Books, 2024), the Kayla and Kugel series (Apples and Honey Press, 2015) and Fairy Godbubbie’s Shabbat (Intergalactic Afikoman, 2025). She also creates free Jewish coloring pages, which you can sign up to receive at www.annkoffsky.com.
By Ann Diament Koffsky
formats are particularly effective for engaging reluctant readers and visual learners. Notable examples include the Taryag Kids series (ArtScroll) and the Shikufitzky Street series (Feldheim). Koren has produced magnificent graphic novel versions of the Haggadah and the Purim Megillah.
Interestingly, while Orthodox characters used to be hard to find in mainstream publishers’ catalogs, some have recently chosen to publish books with Shabbatobservant characters; it’s part of the larger cultural trend of featuring multicultural stories. In Aviva vs. the Dybbuk, by Mari Lowe (New Jersey: Levine Querido, 2022), Aviva’s mom is the mikveh lady; in Richard Ho’s Two New Years (San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 2023), the Asian Jewish family is shown davening in a shul with a mechitzah; and in my own book Ping-Pong Shabbat (New York: Little Bee Books, 2024), Estee Ackerman, an Orthodox girl, wears a skirt while she wins tournaments.
It’s impossible to have a conversation about recent Jewish children’s literature without mentioning the impact of PJ Library. Started in 2005, PJ Library mails free Jewish children’s books (both Orthodox and non-Orthodox) to families. About 20,000 of the households they serve selfidentify as Orthodox and some of the books PJ has shared include titles from frum publishers like Menucha, HaChai, Judaica Press and Shazak Productions. When PJ Library selects a title, authors and publishers are delighted—it means
As any educator will tell you, stories matter. . . . They impart values in ways that a classroom cannot.
their book will be widely distributed and, most importantly, read by Jewish children across the globe.
All of this is excellent news because, as any educator will tell you, stories matter. They are a key ingredient in a child’s chinuch They impart values in ways that a classroom cannot.
Yes, out there right now, frum children are searching for their next great read. But unlike me, they’ll be able to choose from piles of books that celebrate their own experiences, share their values and tell a great story, too. Happy reading!
By Roz Sherman, PhD
There is a Yiddish phrase that, roughly translated, says, “As the Christian world goes, the Jewish world follows.” Over time—usually decades—ideas, attitudes and cultural mores of the secular world are subtly absorbed into the Jewish world. Think about our daily activities—our music, our workouts, our vacations, our clothing, our cellphones and so on. Though we may resist at first, eventually we catch up to the nonJewish world. It is nearly impossible to keep our Jewish attitudes and practice pristine and fixed, no matter how hard we try.
One heartening change in attitude over the past several decades, however, is the (relative) acceptance and destigmatization of psychological disorders. In the past, observant Jews were skeptical or even suspicious of therapy. Who knows what treif Freudian ideas might poison our minds? What non-religious—or worse, non-Jewish—therapist might take us off the derech? Therapy was often viewed not as an avenue of personal growth, but as an indication of mental illness, and worse, a possible threat to finding a shidduch. Psychological problems, unacknowledged and hidden, often remained untreated, to the detriment of the community. Over time, things began to shift. Orthodox counselors trained in therapeutic services reduced the fear of “alien” therapy. Rabbis and community leaders began to speak about the importance of treating
mental health issues. Organizations such as Nefesh International, a group of Orthodox mental health professionals, formed. As public discourse increased, the stigma began to fade. People became less afraid to admit that they have emotional problems and were more open about getting treated. Exposure to the internet and social media made it more difficult to maintain a relatively sheltered lifestyle. Additionally, rates of substance abuse increased, necessitating treatment. Today, Orthodox referral organizations provide referrals to the best psychiatrists, psychologists and social workers, for a wide range of mental health issues.
These days, psychological lingo is everywhere. People describe their meticulousness as “my OCD” and their contradictory emotions as “schizophrenic.” Moody people are now “bipolar.” Anxiety is viewed as almost the norm, and medication for anxiety and depression is widespread. “My therapist told me that I need to work on my anger issues; she thinks they stem from my inability to confront my father who was always yelling.” This statement sounds like a “share” in a group therapy session, where everyone’s contributions are completely confidential. Yet, this was actually a comment made by a young Orthodox woman at a Shabbat table where four professional Orthodox women in their twenties, who had only met the other seven guests at the table a half hour before, openly discussed their psychotherapy sessions. No one would have dreamed of speaking this way thirty years ago at the Shabbat table.
Perhaps the best example of the positive change in attitude toward mental health and therapy is the recognition that rabbis, often
first responders in personal and communal crises, have lacked the psychological experience to manage these challenges. Think about it—a young rabbi, maybe twenty-five, needs to comfort a congregant who has just received the news that her husband had a heart attack at work and died. There are so many psychological challenges in just this scenario. How does one speak to and what does one say to the grieving wife? How does one handle one’s own horror and anxiety about this traumatic event and remain centered and calm so he can help? Today, students in rabbinical seminaries, such as Yeshiva University’s Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary (RIETS) and others across the Orthodox spectrum, are enrolled in special programs that help them deal with these very scenarios. I am happy to teach in a joint program between the Ferkauf Graduate School of Psychology and RIETS, in which semichah students take master’s level courses in psychological theories, psychopathology, grief and crisis counseling, and counseling skills. The purpose is to hone their psychological sophistication, expose them to potential issues before they happen, and teach them what kind of issues require referral to professionals.
As part of the training, we role play challenges that young rabbis might confront. The idea is to let students experience stressful situations and learn to manage their own emotions and responses. In the example above, two students, one who was a few months into our program (the “rabbi”), and another who had just joined the class that day (“the assistant rabbi”), role played the scenario in which they came to comfort the wife and deal with the halachic practices. There are no easy
answers to what a rabbi should do when faced with this kind of horror and grief. However, what the students learn and practice is to remain calm, be fully present despite their own anxiety, realize that they may not be able to solve all the problems but can still help, and above all, listen carefully to what the person needs. What the “rabbi” did was to sit with the wife, take the cue from her, speak carefully
and softly, and begin the practical process. What the “assistant rabbi” did was talk nervously, give directions and appear as overwhelmed as he felt.
Just a few courses make a huge difference in how these young rabbis view themselves and their responsibilities to their congregants. Many rabbis who were ordained decades ago lament the paucity of training and support in the
psychological skills they needed. They often learned by trial and error— maybe more error than trial—how to listen, validate and empathize, and how to understand themselves better.
It is true that we cannot stop attitudes from the world around us from seeping into our Jewish consciousness. But sometimes that is not a bad thing.
By Lisa Elefant, as told to Sandy Eller
Alot has changed in the world of shidduchim since I made my first successful match. I can only speak about what I have seen in the segment of the Yeshivish community I inhabit, but I know other communities have experienced significant changes as well.
I made my first shidduch twenty years ago, and at the time, I was running a medical office in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn. But once that shidduch was finalized, people decided I was a shadchan. My phone started ringing—and it hasn’t stopped since.
In my early days as a shadchan, I kept two notebooks—one for men and one for women. The pool of singles was smaller back then, and setting up men and women felt a lot easier than it does now. Before long, people began using résumés to summarize basic information about singles, and they
Lisa
Elefant is the executive director and one of the founders of AdoptAShadchan, a premiere shidduch organization that facilitates hundreds of shidduchim a year.
Sandy Eller is a freelance writer who writes for print and web media outlets, as well
as private clients.
quickly became a central part of the shidduch system. Over time, a familiar pattern took hold— résumés are sent to the boys’ side first, and their mothers spend hours researching the many names they receive, while the girls’ mothers . . . sit by the phone waiting. And waiting.
While the existing shidduch system typically worked well for younger people and the more Yeshivish crowd, it became clear that, as the world of shidduchim evolved with the times, certain adjustments were necessary. Résumés, which had once been so helpful, were being analyzed to death, with some questioning what town the grandparents came from in Europe. Mothers who wouldn’t allow magazines with photographs of women into their homes insisted on getting pictures with every résumé. Shadchanim were getting so many calls they couldn’t keep up with the demand. First dates became much less frequent, with boys repeatedly being turned down by girls who insisted they only wanted “long-term learners.” The number of available singles skyrocketed—even amazing men and women, doing all the right things, were struggling to find their soulmates.
Addressing those issues head on, shadchanim began launching new
initiatives to help singles find their way to the chuppah. Structured speed dating—tailored to specific age ranges and backgrounds—has been growing in popularity, even though it would have been considered unacceptable ten years ago. “Wedding-redting,” where shadchanim meet with singles during downtimes at weddings, has also proven productive. And Rabbi Chaim Zvi Senter, rosh yeshivah of Yeshivas Aderes Hatorah in Jerusalem, came up with a revolutionary concept called Tachlis Tours. He and I joined forces to take a group of forty young men and women with similar profiles on a five-day trip to Morocco this past August. The itinerary combined touring, davening at kevarim, speed dating and other activities. The trip resulted in numerous dates and people are asking when the next one will be.
It isn’t lost on any of us that more change is needed—whether it’s creating incentives to attract more shadchanim, or single men and women managing expectations better. In the meantime, we’ll continue doing what we’ve always done: keeping our finger on the pulse of the shidduch world and tweaking the system as we go—so we can keep bringing couples together and building new Jewish homes.

By Rabbi Yehoshua Fass, as told to Tova Cohen
Over the last forty years, aliyah has been shaped by historic turning points. The mass exodus of Soviet Jewry at the end of the Cold War was extraordinary, not only in numbers but also in the challenges and opportunities of integration it presented. Similarly, the dramatic airlifts of Ethiopian Jewry—Operation Moses in 1984 and Operation Solomon in 1991—were not only humanitarian missions, but powerful expressions of Jewish unity.
Israel itself has been a central factor. In the 1970s and 1980s, aliyah was often seen as a sacrifice, financially and professionally, since Israel was still developing. By the 1990s and 2000s, Israel had become a hub of innovation, a vibrant democracy with a robust economy. This reframed aliyah from one of rescue to one of
choice—from “what you give up” to “what you gain.”
Demographically, aliyah also diversified. No longer mainly from countries of distress, it increasingly came from Western democracies where Jews were choosing aliyah proactively. The profile of olim reflects this shift.
In the 1980s, aliyah was about survival: Jews fled the Soviet Union for religious freedom, Ethiopian Jews walked for days for dignity and reunion. Today, we see medical professionals who want to support Israel’s healthcare sector, entrepreneurs drawn to the start-up nation, and a variety of professionals who want to contribute to something bigger than themselves. We see young families who want to raise children in a Jewish environment, retirees eager to spend their golden years in Israel, and students inspired by ideology who view aliyah as the ultimate act of Jewish selfdetermination.
Some assume rising antisemitism is the main driver of aliyah today. But that’s not the driving force in North America. Fewer than six percent of North American olim
cite antisemitism as a motive. Still, headlines about rising incidents inevitably shape long-term thinking: “Where will my children feel safe and proud as Jews?” For some, that climate tips the scale from dream to decision.
The challenges that Anglo olim face today differ from those of forty years ago. Then, it was financial hardship and cultural isolation. Phone calls abroad were expensive, letters took weeks and jobs were scarce. Today, while housing costs can be an obstacle and Hebrew proficiency is a challenge, aliyah in many ways is easier. Technology keeps families connected, Anglo communities offer support and government and nonprofit infrastructure help smooth the landing. Most importantly, Israel now embraces aliyah as central to its identity.
When we founded Nefesh B’Nefesh, our aim was to dismantle obstacles—bureaucracy, employment, financial burden and fear of isolation—that deterred thousands. The success stories today are endless.
This work is truly avodat kodesh.


By Hillel Fuld
veryone knows that history repeats itself. But how many people know that the Torah repeats lessons as well? Throughout the 210 years of slavery in Egypt, the Torah describes something extremely counterintuitive: the more the Egyptians persecuted the Israelites, the more the Israelites flourished. Strange for outsiders, but for the Jews, that’s our story. Israel, a country smaller than New Jersey, in one of the world’s most hostile neighborhoods, leads globally in technology and innovation. Everyone knows the book Start-up Nation, by Dan Senor and Saul Singer, but what most people don’t know is that Israel is no longer just a start-up nation. Israel has matured. Israeli entrepreneurs are no longer focused on building ventures they later sell to bigger firms. Now, they are building the large companies that acquire start-ups. Israeli entrepreneurs are creating world-leading, multibillion-dollar sustainable businesses across every tech sector: transportation, artificial intelligence, drones, defense, health tech, biotech and more.
The more our enemies persecute us, the more darkness they bring, the more we innovate and the brighter we shine. Despite the hardships of the past two years, Israel continues to grow, break records and show the world what the Jewish people are made of. Every leading tech corporation has a presence in Israel. Look at the world’s most valuable companies: almost all are investing billions in Israel, including Apple, Microsoft, Amazon, Facebook, NVIDIA, Intel, IBM and more. Not only are they
here, but they are building major parts of their portfolios in this tiny country, alongside top tech investors.
Then there is the resilience of Israeli entrepreneurs, which is nothing short of remarkable. Take the Gaza war: half the country was in reserve duty for the past two years. You might expect a slowdown in economic growth, but nothing could be further from the truth. Even during the war, Israel broke records in financing and M&A (mergers and acquisitions). In the last few months alone, we saw multiple multibillion-dollar acquisitions, including Google acquiring Wiz, an Israeli company, for over $30 billion—Google’s largest acquisition to date, and Israel’s largest exit ever.
While that is impressive, the most striking achievement is the global impact of Israeli technology. Look at cancer research: I interviewed one of the leading authorities, a man managing more cancer research funding than anyone
else in the world. As he described breakthroughs, nearly all leading treatments and cures were developed in the Jewish State. As Israel’s tech ecosystem continues to grow, the world watches with awe, wondering if this pace can continue. Then the next quarter comes, and Israel breaks records again.
That is our story. The more they persecute us, the more we flourish. It is that resilience, that mindset, that strength—qualities that will ultimately lead us to prevail over all our enemies. With Hashem’s help, Am Yisrael Chai will remain a historical reality. We will thrive long after our enemies are gone.

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By Shalom Goodman
Two of my heroes wear invisible capes. Their names are Yechezkel and Tamar, and you probably never heard of them. They have not invented a cure to heal any major illness, founded a life-changing program or done anything else that would put them in headlines.
Until last December, they were like any other upwardly mobile frum couple. Thirty years old and newly married without children yet, the couple were living the life they thought they were raised to live in their suburban Orthodox community. Yechezkel worked in real estate, while Tamar was a secretary. They drove a latemodel sedan, lived in a spacious two-bedroom apartment with a $3,500 monthly rent, and even gave tzedakah whenever possible. But even without the expenses of children, they were overspending on what felt like necessities. They chose the nicer apartment when a perfectly adequate place for $2,300 was available, upgrading their lifestyle to match their combined income rather than building for their future.
But they started to confront unexpected financial tribulation. Their expenses were growing, and their marriage was floundering as a result.
Sadly, their story is far from unique. Across the country, countless frum couples are quietly struggling in similar ways—hardworking families without a clear plan toward financial stability,
Shalom
Goodman is cofounder and executive director of Collective Kindness, a nonprofit supporting Jewish families navigating financial challenges. He was previously an editor at the Wall Street Journal
caught in a cycle of credit card debt and high-interest mortgages.
As executive director of Collective Kindness, a growing nonprofit that helps struggling middle-class families with a hand up, I’ve seen how widespread this has become. I’ve seen how many hard-working frum families are feeling the financial strain and hoping things will somehow work out. These are not irresponsible people; they’re doing their best but often lack a clear plan for long-term financial stability. I’ve met families earning $220,000 a year who, after paying $80,000 in tuition for five children, are barely managing to stay afloat. According to every metric, they’re crushing it. But they’re anything but.
The 2024 Kosher Money “Frum Finance Survey,” an openaccess web survey conducted in consultation with Dr. Michelle Shain, of the Jewish Non-Profit Planning and Research Institute, in partnership with Living Smarter Jewish, took a hard look at the financial well-being of nearly 3,000 Orthodox families, the majority of whom live in the Northeast of the US. Kosher Money is a podcast created by Living Lchaim and sponsored by Living Smarter Jewish, a financial literacy initiative of the Orthodox Union. The study found that even families with annual incomes of $250,000 to $300,000 feel financially strained. Even among those earning more than $300,000 annually, 30 percent of those who responded reported they feel as if they were struggling.
And it’s not just a feeling. The problems are real. And they are often left unsolved, with little help offered to guide people. Financial issues are not only being experienced by those under the poverty line. The average family, the one with two incomes and a respectable quarter-page ad at the
I’ve met families earning $220,000 a year who, after paying $80,000 in tuition for five children, are barely managing to stay afloat. According to every metric, they’re crushing it. But they’re anything but.
yeshivah dinner, is having a hard time financially, too.
You may not know about it, but there is a silent stigma in our community that prevents us from discussing this issue in the open.
Of those who responded to the study, more than 40 percent of couples over forty years old don’t pay off their credit card balances monthly. Fewer than half of the families in our communities own more than $100,000 in assets other than their homes, the same study reported. Many of us do not have enough to cover even one month’s expenses.


Many of us worry that if we live too frugally, we’ll be constantly burdened and unhappy. But . . . out-of-control spending and the uncertainty it brings are much more stressful.
its awkward moments and bruised pride, but it gave them breathing room to rebuild without the crushing weight of a $3,500 monthly rent payment.
They are choosing to live within their means.
The major changes were very difficult for them. There was unspoken pity from their friends, the uncertainty of leaving the tri-state area to move across the country, and the challenge of having to curb their spending.
hall or a shul. But they don’t have money for Pampers, let alone party planners.
They know the answer is to “downgrade” to a simple affair in their house for a small group of family and close friends. At the same time, they are grappling with the inner voice that says: “What will everyone say about us? We just can’t.”
The list goes on, and I don’t need to tell you about it because this may very well be your experience or that of someone you know.
But what Yechezkel and Tamar did next make them heroic in my eyes.
They broke their lease, gave up their apartment and cut up their credit cards while making a plan with a debt expert. The couple made the difficult decision to temporarily move into a relative’s backhouse in another state, a small, modest space that allowed them to slash their housing costs while they worked toward financial stability. It wasn’t easy, and it certainly wasn’t without
But there was also the euphoria of being free from mounting debt, from doing things “just because,” and from the stress of choosing which bills to pay and which to ignore. They took a difficult path, perhaps more radical than many of us would take. But we can do some of what they did and make adjustments in our lives. Many of us believe we are willing to take on such a challenge. But when push comes to shove, we hesitate to give up on the things we consider necessities.
And the truth is, it’s not our fault, because there are some expensive things that truly are not luxuries. Day school tuition is a must, housing within a metro area near shuls and schools is a must, matzah on Pesach is a must, and so is kosher food.
More people in Orthodox communities across the country are struggling financially each year. Expenses are rising, societal pressures are increasing and our salaries are lagging behind. The problems we are facing must be addressed by Orthodox leaders, both on a national and communal scale. But every couple and individual has the power to change the course of their financial well-being and take control of their own situation.
One of our clients is having a difficult time financially, and his marriage is affected as a result. One issue the couple is currently working through together is what to do in a few months when they welcome a son. In their community, it’s a given that they throw a lavish brit in a
But they can. And they will. The good thing is that every time an individual chooses to forgo a luxury that “everyone” thinks they need, it becomes easier for others to follow suit. When you limit your son’s bar mitzvah to a kiddush, that gives permission for others to follow. When you drive the perfectly fine car you bought last decade, you normalize it for others. And the cycle grows from one family to the next.
A member of the Kosher Money WhatsApp chat—run by Kosher Money podcast host Eli Langer— shared recently: “A caterer’s wife, who handles the business’ books, said, ‘You have no idea how much we are owed. How many of these blowout kiddushim are being paid out over six months. Zelles from a million different people just to pay for that one person’s single kiddush. If only people knew.’”
Anyone involved in finances can tell you how compound interest works. You get a little bit of money each month—not a lot—but you add it to your investment and then further invest it. The account builds slowly, and over the course of decades, you can build up a respectable retirement fund out of nickels and dimes.


The same works in other areas of life, as well. Buying generic cereal may be a small savings, but add it together throughout the year and it saves you a lot of money. Stick to those habits over the course of years with a compound effect, and you will have saved thousands of dollars. At the same time, you will teach your kids valuable lessons that they, too, will carry on for the rest of their lives.

Expenses are rising, societal pressures are increasing and our salaries are lagging behind.
Rochel is a woman I know who is not wealthy. She and her husband both work in klei kodesh (Jewish communal work). There is not a lot of extra money to go around. But she has some tricks to smooth things out. Whenever she gets cash, she puts it away in an envelope. Over time, that money adds up. And when it comes time to purchase a pair of tefillin for one of their sons, she has the money ready, allowing them to spend on the other bar mitzvah–related expenses without spiraling out of control.
Many of us worry that if we live too frugally, we’ll be constantly burdened and unhappy. But I have spoken to many people who say the opposite is true. Out-ofcontrol spending and the uncertainty it brings are much more stressful.

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One couple who came to see us for financial counseling was referred by their therapist. When they first arrived, they were in a difficult place, receiving over $5,000 in assistance a month from family and friends, all while trying to work on difficulties in their relationship. Once they began working with us to make real changes in their life, everything slowly started to shift. They began to look up and had a positive perspective on their future. The husband, who was out of work, got a good job and even took on additional side work to accelerate debt repayment. The wife became mindful of her grocery spending, they cancelled a significant amount of subscriptions, and they negotiated down their insurance monthly payments. Most importantly, they began to see each other differently. Couples who work to make changes will have additional respect and appreciation for one another, with each putting in real effort toward building a healthier financial and family life, all while becoming cash-flow positive. With a few more months of steady progress and the completion of some loan payments over the next two years, they will be in a position to pay off debt, build an emergency fund and live fully within their means, something they’ve never really done before.
It’s time we acknowledge openly within ourselves and our communities that financial struggles are widespread, and that there’s no shame in seeking help. Resources exist for families working hard but still struggling to make ends meet. The OU’s Living Smarter Jewish, which was started to help frum families cope with the rising costs of a frum lifestyle, pairs experienced financial coaches with families to develop sustainable budgets. Additionally, the organization I run, Collective Kindness, has launched a new initiative that helps families assess their debt and create actionable plans toward solvency, all without hidden agendas or profit motives (http://kosherdebthelp.com). Hope exists, and with Hashem’s help, we can come together as a community to build financial responsibility and security for all our families.
By Rivka Resnik
What do Joshua Fields Millburn, Ryan Nicodemus, Marie Kondo, and Cal Newport have in common? They are part of a growing movement that asks a simple question: What happens when you stop chasing more and focus on what really matters?
That question is at the heart of minimalism. And it’s not just about getting rid of old sweaters or clearing off your kitchen countertops. It’s about a new way of looking at life, deciding what has real value, and yes, how we use our money.
Most of us didn’t grow up with this idea. We grew up in a world that celebrated more. More things, more shopping, more upgrades. Our phones and feeds push us to want more every single day. At some point, though, all that “more” started to feel heavy. It drained our energy, and it cost a lot, too.
Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus, better known as The Minimalists, earned good money and had the kind of success many people admired. But they were unhappy. They started letting go of things, careers and pressure, and found a new type of freedom. Their message is simple: you don’t need to own a lot to live a meaningful life.
Marie Kondo, a Japanese organizing consultant and author
who created the KonMari Method of decluttering, is known for her simple question: “Does it spark joy?” That idea was enough for many people to open a closet and see things differently. Maybe it’s an unused toy or a skirt that never quite fit right. We hold on to these things, but why? Letting them go doesn’t mean you’re losing anything. Joy isn’t in the pile of stuff. It’s in the time you spend with family, the stories that get told around the dinner table, the laughter, the memories that stick long after the things themselves are gone.
Cal Newport, an MIT-trained computer science professor at Georgetown University, talks about digital clutter, which most of us don’t even notice. His idea of digital minimalism is about using technology with intention instead of habit. Constant notifications, endless updates and too much screen time weigh us down, just like a cluttered house does.
Different people, different approaches, but the message is the same. Less clutter in your life makes room for what really matters.
Financial minimalism takes the same idea and applies it to money. It doesn’t mean moving into a bare apartment without bookshelves or sefarim, or giving up the little things that make life enjoyable,
like a decadent chocolate bar for Shabbat. It means being intentional about how you use money.
A financial minimalist might say:
• I don’t need to overspend on semachot, whether it’s the gown, the flowers or the music, just to keep up appearances.
• I don’t need a dozen bank accounts, gemach loans, and credit cards that make my finances confusing.
• I want my money to bring me menuchat hanefesh, not keep me awake at night with stress. Financial minimalism means decluttering your finances the way you’d clean out a closet before Pesach. Why hang on to something that doesn’t serve a purpose or bring you joy?
You don’t have to move off the grid or cancel every credit card to live more simply. Most people begin with small steps. Maybe this sounds familiar:
• You’re earning more than you did five years ago, but yom tov
Rivka Resnik is the author of three financial literacy textbooks. The high school textbook can be purchased at cost at https:// livingsmarterjewish.org/high-schoolcurriculum-payment/. For more information, or for advanced and junior textbooks, email lsj@ou.org.
expenses or tuition hikes keep you feeling just as stretched.
• Keeping track of bills, credit cards, tuition payments and loan repayments feels like a second job. That’s financial clutter. Minimalism offers a way to clear it out and restore a sense of calm and control.
The need to financially declutter feels especially relevant around Chanukah. In many homes, what began as a holiday of light and family has turned into night after night of gifts. For some, it’s no longer just a toy here and there—it’s gadgets, matching pajamas, games, even trips. And with social media flooded with images of overflowing gift tables, the pressure to keep up only grows stronger.
But here’s the question: Does all this really add simchah? Or does it just drain families emotionally and financially?
Financial minimalism doesn’t say “don’t give.” It says give with intention. Maybe one thoughtful gift per child is enough. Or maybe you add something new to the tradition: one night of giving tzedakah together, or one night of family time with dreidel, songs and latkes. Those moments are what your children will remember.
The same is true beyond Chanukah. Yom tov clothing, bar mitzvahs and weddings all come with pressure to outdo the next person. But our real value is not in outspending someone else. Financial minimalism reminds us to focus on what matters and to stop proving ourselves through our purchases.
Here are a few ways you can start financially decluttering:
• Keep your accounts simple. One credit card, one checking account, one savings account. That really is enough.
• Buy fewer things, but choose better ones that last. One good pair of shoes can serve you better than three that hurt your feet.
• Value time over money. Extra hours with family will bring you more joy than another dollar earned.
Financial minimalism isn’t really about giving things up. It’s about making choices. For some people, that might mean spending on family dinners; for others, it might be travel, a hobby or simply having the freedom to walk away from a job that doesn’t fit their lifestyle anymore. It’s about freeing yourself from what doesn’t matter, so you can put your time and money into what does. Maybe that means learning more with your chavruta, helping out at your child’s school or taking on a role in your shul.
Money stress is one of the biggest drains on people today. Too many bills and accounts pile up. Add all the “must-buys,” and it’s no wonder we feel anxious and exhausted.
Simplifying helps. You feel calmer when you have fewer accounts to track, fewer payments to worry about and fewer “shoulds” running through
We grew up in a world that celebrated more.
More
At
things, more shopping, more upgrades. . . .
some point, though, all that ‘more’ started to feel heavy. It drained our energy, and it cost a lot, too.
your head. It’s like walking into a clean room after ignoring a messy one for weeks. Suddenly, you can breathe.
You don’t have to change everything overnight. Try one of these small steps:
1. Make a list of your accounts, bills and obligations. Cross off what you don’t really need.
2. Pause before you buy. Ask yourself, “Do I really need this or is it just a habit?”
3. Watch your spending for one week and set a small goal, like saving a certain amount of money per week, returning clothing you never wore or trimming one yom tov expense you don’t really need.
That’s enough to get started.
At the end of the day, financial minimalism isn’t really about dollars and cents. It’s about what we value most. It might help to ask yourself:
• Do I own my things or are they starting to own me?
• Am I spending because it makes me happy or because I want others to notice?
• Is this choice moving me toward the life I want or just keeping me busy?
Judaism has always taught us to appreciate what we already have. As Pirkei Avot says: “Who is rich? One who is happy with what he has.” That’s the heart of financial minimalism. When Chanukah comes around and every ad is shouting about sales, give yourself a chance to slow down. Ask if this year you need so much. Maybe it’s fewer gifts, but they are gifts that actually matter. Perhaps it’s not about piling on more but about noticing what’s already in your home.
Real wealth has never been about what’s in a shopping bag. It shows up in the family we raise, the community we lean on and the memories that stay with us long after the gifts are forgotten.

By Tova Cohen
In our contemporary Orthodox world, financial stress is not confined to the margins. It’s keenly felt in the so-called “middle class,” where families earning upwards of $250,000–$300,000 still struggle to make ends meet. At the same time, money has been a difficult topic to discuss openly, leaving many to struggle in silence. The Orthodox Union has been steadily working to change that.
Living Smarter Jewish (LSJ) is a flagship financial literacy initiative founded in 2021 to address the “frum affordability” crisis head on.
“Living Smarter Jewish started during Covid when so many people were hit with unprecedented financial difficulties,” says Rabbi Simon Taylor, the OU’s national director of Community Engagement, who oversees LSJ. “Some visionary ba’alei batim wanted to do something to help individuals, couples and families achieve financial freedom in a community often bound by constricting norms.”
They dove right in: founding LSJ, seeding Kosher Money—a Living Lchaim podcast that discusses everything at the intersection of Judaism and finance—and developing a high school curriculum to give teens a financial toolkit. But
perhaps the most impactful piece of the puzzle has been LSJ’s free financial coaching, which Rabbi Taylor says helps around 2,000 families each year.
Stacey Zrihen, LSJ’s senior director of coaching, oversees eighty volunteers who help singles, newlyweds, young families and retirees build personalized budgets.
“The biggest key to helping people manage money more successfully is keeping a written budget,”
Zrihen says. “It shows you where you might trim, helps you plan for upcoming expenses like camp or simchahs, and keeps goals within reach. As Rabbi Moshe Hauer [the OU’s executive vice president, zt”l] liked to say, a bar mitzvah is not a surprise party—you know it’s coming, so plan ahead.”
Zrihen notes that starting young makes all the difference.
“Like learning a new language, the earlier you start, the better,” explains Zrihen. “I see plenty of couples in their thirties, forties and fifties who made a lot of mistakes. If we reach people sooner, we can prevent many of the challenges frum families face.”
Enter Rivka Resnik, who wrote LSJ’s high school curriculum and whose benchmark-based textbooks were adopted and approved by the state of Florida. “More than
The OU’s Living Smarter Jewish financial literacy textbooks, available at cost to any Jewish school that requests them, provide students with tools and experience in managing money. For more information, contact lsj@ou.org.
thirty years ago, I initiated a program in Chicago, so students could get hands-on experience saving and managing money, and I immediately saw how powerful it is to give young people financial skills they can use immediately,” recounts Resnik.
It’s a challenge, given that the average teenager feels far removed from managing finances, even in our community, where marriage and starting your own household occur at a younger age than in the general population.
“To make my lessons relevant, I used situations students can relate to, such as purchasing something trendy and expensive that everyone else seems to have, comparing phone plans, understanding their first paycheck, or thinking twice before swiping a credit card,” explains Resnik.
The OU distributes the textbooks at cost to any Jewish school that requests them—a move that,
Tova Cohen is a fundraising communications professional and college essay coach. She lives in New Jersey with her family.


Wealth is much less about numbers and much more about mindset and behavior.
One practical way to widen that gap? Relocation.
Resnik says, helps ensure financial education is prioritized in our community.
“The OU is showing what can be accomplished when we come together to address challenges like affordability with both vision and practical solutions,” she declares.
Helping change people’s mindsets is a key part of that, according to Eli Langer, host of the Kosher Money podcast. “The recurring theme is that wealth is much less about numbers and much more about mindset and behavior,” Langer explains. “Our guests, from Rabbi Daniel Lapin to Dave Ramsey, always remind us that financial peace comes from creating margin. The gap between what you earn and what you spend is where freedom lives.”

The OU Savitsky Home Relocation Fair, created by former OU President Stephen J. Savitsky in 2008 and now run by Rebbetzin Judi Steinig, OU senior director of the Savitsky Growth Initiative, brings together communities across the country—think Albany, New York; Buffalo Grove, Illinois; Portland, Oregon; and Scottsdale, Arizona—and people interested in moving to places where they can more easily afford their religious Jewish lives while still enjoying traditional amenities.
“People need to examine their priorities—affordability and different communal amenities— and the OU’s role is to show them options,” says Rebbetzin Steinig, while noting that many hundreds of families have taken the leap. “We don’t tell anyone when or whether they should move. We help them navigate the options and make informed choices.”
This echoes Zrihen’s perspective on financial empowerment. “LSJ coaches, myself included, don’t tell people how to spend their money,” she says. “We give them the tools to make their own decisions about improving their budget and their quality of life.”
It’s one thing to teach people to navigate a system that often feels unsustainable—and another thing to help change the system itself. For the OU, that means tackling one of the biggest-ticket items in the Jewish community: the cost of Jewish education.
Led by Sydney Altfield, the OU’s Teach Coalition is on the forefront of lobbying and grassroots advocacy at the state and federal levels for funding and resources for Jewish
day schools, including STEM and security funding, universal free meals (recently adopted in New York), and an upcoming federal dollar-for-dollar tax credit program set to launch in January 2027. All these measures aim to ease the financial burdens for families by lowering schools’ operating costs, and putting money back into the pockets of tuition-paying parents.
“Now more than ever since October 7, people have realized that the continuity of the Jewish people depends on Jewish education,” says Altfield. “At the same time, tuition affordability is an existential threat to our community.”
A 2022 study by Nishma Research found that, across denominations from Chassidic to Reform, tuition affordability ranks as the top concern but historically has been a lower priority for Jewish philanthropy. However, Altfield notes that government funding is making a real difference.
“Thanks in large part to Teach Coalition, people now recognize that they don’t need to simply rely on private donations from the community, but they can leverage government dollars to affect budgetary bottom lines,” she says proudly. “We’re grateful to have important partners across government to help see all our children thrive.”
Affordability in the frum community often feels like a crisis, yet others argue that the pressures inherent to Jewish communal life are better understood as signs of strength.
“There’s a Yiddish saying: ‘Ken di kallah zayn tsu sheyn?—Can the bride be too pretty?’ That’s how I see our way of life,” says Steve Savitsky. “The system isn’t broken; it’s thriving. But with that blessing comes real challenges, and the OU is stepping up to meet them.”
By Alexandra Fleksher
What would you do if your friends and family were portrayed disparagingly in the media for the whole world to see? Would you silently shrug your shoulders in resignation, or would you do everything in your power to fight for them, to share the truth about who they really are?
That was my dilemma during the early summer of 2021 when Netflix’s My Unorthodox Life was being promoted before its release. From the interviews I read and the press I saw, it was clear that the show would be depicting Orthodox Jews and Orthodoxy in a very negative light. In an attempt to tell one woman’s departure from Orthodoxy, tropes, stereotypes and myths were flaunted as facts. As I read press interviews about claims made about Orthodox women and their supposed practices, it dawned on me: this isn’t true, and I, as an Orthodox Jewish woman, am being misrepresented. But what could I do about it?
The final straw was when a friend told me that after her married daughter binged the show with friends, she started questioning her own modesty standards. While I never thought I could influence world opinion about Orthodox Jews, maybe I could take this opportunity to strengthen my fellow Orthodox Jews. So, I took to Instagram and Facebook and posted the following challenge alongside my picture: “Everyone has their story . . . Who are you? Join me in sharing who you are as an Orthodox woman. Let the world know. #myorthodoxlife.”
Only Hashem knows how a social media post goes viral. I had only a few hundred followers on Instagram at the time, so it certainly had nothing to do with my reach. One person was inspired to post her story with a picture and that led to another. Frustrated by the misinformation shared via the show about their Orthodox lives and beliefs, women of all different religious backgrounds felt empowered— and a bit triggered—to tell their own stories as observant Jews. Orthodox women inundated Instagram, Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn with #myorthodoxlife posts. They were sharing their stories with the world.
And the world was listening. Florina G. posted on LinkedIn: “Tonight I wished I were an Orthodox woman. I am sure anyone seeing the beautiful, rich posts of Esther, Shany, and Shterny would wish that too!” And Nancy posted on Twitter: “I know it’s about to be Shabbat and most of them won’t see this, but seeing these #myorthodoxlife posts by amazing frum women makes me so proud to be a Jewish woman. Frum women deserve their autonomy and diversity to be accurately portrayed in the media.”

TV writer and producer David Sacks has remained committed to his religion and hosts other Jewish people in the television industry

Salon owner Adina Burstyn also collects and distributes Shabbat meals for families facing serious illnesses. Photo: Dina Brookmyer
My phone was blowing up. A platform had been created to showcase the diverse experiences of Orthodox Jews while countering the show’s stereotypes. Secular and Jewish publications reached out for interviews. One of the calls I received was from the Orthodox Union. OU leadership saw value in the current movement and offered their public relations services to help publish articles written by Orthodox women about #myorthodoxlife in secular publications.
As is the nature of all viral movements, #myorthodoxlife tapered off two weeks later but left in its wake thousands of social media posts and a strong imprint on the internet (see my favorite article, “Netflix’s ‘My Unorthodox Life’ Spurred Ultra-Orthodox Jewish Women to Talk Publicly About Their Lives” by anthropologist Dr. Jessica Roda, https://theconversation.com/ netflixs-my-unorthodox-life-spurred-ultraorthodox-jewish-women-to-talk-publicly-abouttheir-lives-165791) and on the hearts of all who participated.
Then the OU reached out again. I met with Moishe Bane, then-president of the OU, and OU Executive Vice President Rabbi Moshe Hauer, zt”l . We discussed what we had learned from #myorthodoxlife: that we need to be telling the stories of proud Orthodox Jews. But we didn’t pitch to Netflix. We would create a social media initiative on Instagram and Facebook.
The final straw was when a friend told me that after her married daughter binged the show with friends, she started questioning her own modesty standards.
Sacks, a Torah-observant Hollywood producer. She said, “Thanks for sharing your story. There is a narrative that if you are brilliant and talented, you are naturally not religious. Your life story counteracts that completely.”
And another one was about Shalom Goodman, a former editor at the Wall Street Journal who has a significant speech impediment: “I love to follow this page so I can learn more as a non-Jew. And you speak beautifully and I’m so glad you shared your voice. It’s so important for all groups that a diversity of voices and experiences are shared. Thank you for your courage.”
But the piece of feedback that was perhaps the most revelatory to me was from a Chareidi journalist in Jerusalem: “Faces of Orthodoxy is one of the most brilliant creations of our time. Getting to be inspired by so many people, many of whom are so different from each other yet all have Torah and Hashem in common, is an opportunity we didn’t have in such a way before.”
On March 21, 2022, we launched the Faces of Orthodoxy account. Our first “Face” of Orthodoxy was Batsheva Boehm, a lawyer, marathon runner, wife and mother and proud Orthodox Jew. We set out to put a human face on Orthodox Jews, telling their stories one face at a time. We wanted to share the journeys, struggles and triumphs of our everyday heroes of faith. In a time of rampant misrepresentation of Orthodox Jews in the media, we aimed to tell the stories of real-life observant Jews, educating the world about who we are and what we believe while also introducing fellow Jews to the role models in our midst. And as the world shifted post–October 7 and Jew-hatred became more public and pronounced, we felt more emboldened to share our Faces of Orthodoxy with the world.
We introduced our followers to artists, doctors, educators, chefs, producers, psychologists, musicians, entrepreneurs, podcasters, fashion designers, authors, activists, comedians and CEOs—all of whom are Orthodox Jews. We shared the human stories of people who had overcome professional, personal, emotional and physical challenges. We took pride in this space we created on the internet, where we celebrated and learned from others. People cheered on our Faces and reached out with a private message or a comment on a post to tell us how much a profile meant to them. And that meant so much to us. To know that these stories were landing somewhere and making a difference to real people behind their screens.
One of my favorite pieces of feedback from a follower was in response to our profile on David
Perhaps the greatest contribution of this project is the portrayal of Orthodox diversity. Ashkenaz,

Sephardi, converts, frum from birth, ba’alei teshuvah, women, men, younger, older, Chassidic, Yeshivish, Modern Orthodox and everything in between. Each story is accompanied by a “hero shot” taken by a talented Orthodox photographer, along with a carousel of personal life photos. Indeed, Faces of Orthodoxy has taught us so much about people we ordinarily never would have met. What I understood as we embarked on this project, and what I understand even more clearly now, is the power of our shared humanity. When people can become vulnerable enough to share parts of their human journey, while maintaining their sense of privacy, others respond. We have no idea the impact that one chapter of our story can have on another. So many of the individuals I approached to be featured told me the same thing: “But I don’t have a story.” Oh, but you do. Everyone has a story. There is something in every person’s journey that will resonate with another. I’ve also learned that people are yearning for role models who can provide meaning and context to their lives. Our most warmly received profiles on Faces of Orthodoxy were not necessarily the most “successful” people. It was the profiles of people who shared their struggles and moments of failure, of people who had mountains to climb to get to where they are today. Similarly, the stories of people with religious journeys—the seekers, the converts, the returnees to faith—resonated greatly with our audience. Ultimately, it’s the grittiest people who put in the work to achieve their goals that our audience found the most inspiring, instructive and meaningful. Because we’re all trying to live life doing the best we can, and learning about others doing the same resonates most deeply.
In July 2025, four years after the release of My Unorthodox Life, Faces of Orthodoxy came to a close. We featured over 160 individuals in

Attorney Tzadik Womack enjoys reflecting on what it means to be both Black and Jewish. Photo: Dina Brookmyer
fourteen seasons. We told the stories of people from Cleveland, Atlanta, New York, Los Angeles, Baltimore, Jerusalem, Chicago, Dallas, South Florida, New Jersey and Toronto. Our objective was to empower Orthodox Jews to tell their stories with pride, and we felt that, though there is still much work to be done, we had inspired many people to do so.
Only Hashem knows how a social media post goes viral.
Faces of Orthodoxy would never have been created without the vision of the OU. I am particularly grateful to have worked on this project with EC Birnbaum, the OU’s creative director, and Rivki Schwartz, the OU’s chief marketing officer, who both expertly guided this project’s mission and execution. It has been a privilege to work with the OU, an organization that steps up to fill the needs of the Jewish community in real time. To learn more about Faces of Orthodoxy, visit @faces.of.orthodoxy on Instagram and Facebook. And if you’ve learned anything from this project, keep telling your stories. They are worthy of being told.
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By Richard Simon
Last winter, at a Motzaei Shabbat learning program, I looked around the social hall of my shul, where dozens of parents had gathered to learn with their children.
At some tables, kids were learning mishnayot, at others, they were using markers and crayons to decorate cards for members of the IDF.
But as I gazed across the hall at this incredible scene, I realized that while the kids were looking down at their sefarim and cards, most parents were looking down at something else: their phones.
What I saw that Motzaei Shabbat wasn’t limited to that one moment.
Walking around our frum neighborhood, I see more and more parents driving with a phone in one hand instead of focusing on the road. I wonder what kind of example that sets for all those kids in the van.
At a recent kumzits, even though most people had flip phones, half the crowd was recording videos or taking pictures rather than being in the moment.
I was that same person—until I turned my cell phone off for an entire year.
The decision to turn off my smartphone didn’t happen overnight.
Like so many of us, I had an unhealthy relationship with it. My phone habits had been bothering me for years. I can’t pinpoint when it became a problem, but over time, I realized I was living a lessmeaningful life because of it.
I tried many different methods to establish a better relationship with it—strategies promoted in self-help books and articles.
The first one I encountered is a familiar concept to many of us: the digital Sabbath.
I find Shabbat to be sacred and restorative. I would feel such relief, a weight lifted off my shoulders, when I turned off my phone late Friday afternoon. No work emails to check, no text messages coming through, just time to reconnect with family and friends.
But once late afternoon arrived on Shabbat, I would start to feel the dopamine rush, the anticipation of turning on my phone to check for messages and see what news I’d missed over the last twentyfour hours. After we’d extinguish the flame of the Havdalah candle, I’d rush from the kitchen to our
bedroom to turn on my phone. Turning my phone off for Shabbat was a Band-Aid, I realized—like telling someone who is addicted to cigarettes not to smoke for one day a week. I knew it wouldn’t solve my problem.
I experimented with leaving my phone in the mudroom when I got back from work and keeping it there for the remainder of the evening. If I had to check something, I’d walk over, tap my phone, complete my task and then leave. The inconvenience of not having it by my side made me feel less dependent on it at home but also showed me how dangerous a tool it was.
I would often wonder what my oldest son was thinking every half hour when I’d leave the game we were playing or the puzzle we were
This essay is adapted from the book Unplug: How to Break Up with Your Phone and Reclaim Your Life (New York: Workman Publishing, 2025). Richard Simon has directed website strategy for Georgetown Law in Washington, DC, since 2010, and is a former reporter and webmaster for the Daily Record newspaper in Maryland. He lives in Baltimore with his wife and three children.
I was that same person—until I turned my cell phone off for an entire year.
working on to check my phone by the carport door—hearing the latest ding or giving in to the urge to refresh my email inbox. I felt like I had an addiction to a drug, picking up my youngest son with one arm after changing a diaper and walking to the other side of our house to check my phone with the other. It felt wrong. I tried turning on airplane mode and deleting apps. But on stroller walks around the neighborhood, I’d still tap my phone to check the time, look at my calendar and open my email and messages—even though I knew no new messages were coming in. The simple motion of tapping my phone and seeing the screen light up had become deeply ingrained in my routine.
As I now realize, what I was trying were just “hacks.” Noble as they might have been, these efforts fell short of what I was truly seeking.
I knew the relationship with my wife, Lauren, was suffering because of how much time I was spending on my phone. I spent hours on it each day, especially in the evening—time that could have been spent with her. I wasn’t able to focus on our kids as much as I wanted. Trips to the zoo and aquarium felt distracted. The kids’ morning and afternoon naptimes—when I could have been productive—were instead spent on the sofa, looking at my phone.
I had been working at Georgetown Law directing website strategy for close to ten years but wasn’t gaining as much career capital as I wanted. I realized it was largely because I couldn’t focus deeply. I also wasn’t finding the time to invest
in meaningful activities like learning Torah; I missed writing and playing golf.
And then there was me. I didn’t have time for self-reflection. I couldn’t embrace solitude. During any quiet moment, I would reach for my phone. In line at the grocery store, I’d take it out. At a baseball game, I’d check it frequently to see if a message had come in. It was a pacifier—a way to escape the realities of life. I lost who I was, and who I wanted to be.
That’s why I knew I had to do something drastic: a phone detox. Turning off my phone was one of the most transformative decisions I’ve ever made. During my yearlong phoneless odyssey, every area of my life began to improve.
At work, I felt more disciplined. I brought a notepad and pen to meetings, and my ability to retain information markedly improved. Without the option to text throughout the day, Lauren and I spent time each evening catching each other up on the day’s events. I looked forward to those conversations. Free from the constant distraction of a phone, I began setting aside more time for the two of us to spend together—and our relationship grew stronger as a result.
As for our kids, I could tell how much they appreciated me not constantly checking my phone. When I took them out for walks, or to the pool or playground, they had my undivided attention—which hadn’t been the case before. I developed a newfound appreciation for being a father, something I was truly grateful for.
It’s important to note that some of my friendships suffered. I’m fairly sure it was because those relationships were largely built around texting. Without the ability to send quick messages back and forth, we gradually fell out of touch.
But I actually grew closer to three of my dearest friends. Since we were forced to call each other, low-effort communication was replaced by high-quality conversation. Instead of sending each other frequent text messages, we set aside time to talk on
the phone. Even my wife appreciated this—when my friends called our house phone, she got to catch up with them too.
With the newfound free time I had each night, I was also able to rekindle old hobbies like golf and chess.
After a year without my smartphone, I decided I didn’t want to throw it away. With the reward pathways in my brain reset by the detox, I chose to adopt what I’ve coined the “off-by-default” philosophy.
The definition of the philosophy is simple: I turn my phone on only when there’s something I want to do that will enhance my life. For example, if we’re driving to Hershey Park, I’ll put the address into the GPS. Once we arrive, I turn it off. Even after everything I’ve been through, I know that if my phone stays on in my pocket, I won’t be fully present with my family the way I want to be.
Over a two-year period, I had dozens of conversations with others who recognized the challenges of the phone’s constant-companion model— and who did something about it. I interviewed an anesthesiologist in Baltimore, a software engineer in Seattle, an outfielder for the Philadelphia Phillies, a social media marketer in Northern Ireland, a school principal in Chicago, and a law partner in Connecticut, among others.
There’s also a writer in Vermont, a product specialist in Kenya, a college senior at the University of Notre Dame, a chess grandmaster in Minnesota, and a financial analyst in Italy—all of whom fundamentally changed their relationships with their phones and enhanced their lives in remarkable ways.
The average American spends more than five hours a day on their smartphone—that’s more than a quarter of our waking hours. Most teenagers spend nearly half of their waking hours on their devices.
This is the moment to take a stand. You can reset the relationship you have with your phone. It’s time to stop wasting time—and reclaim it.
Q: Does medicine in pill form need to be kosher certified?
A: Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, zt”l, maintained that pills have no flavor and are nifsal me’achilas adam (not fit for human consumption). Therefore, pills without kosher certification may be swallowed for medicinal purposes.
Despite this heter (leniency), Rav Moshe writes that if a koshercertified version of the pill is available, one should make an effort to use the kosher option. The OU does certify certain medications, but it will not certify any that contain non-kosher ingredients. Consumers can search for OU-certified medications on the OU Kosher mobile app or website: oukosher.org/ product-search/.
Q: If Rav Moshe’s heter relies on the fact that pills have no flavor, what about sugar-coated pills that are sweetened to make swallowing them easier?
A: When taking sugar-coated pills, one must check the ingredients to ensure that non-kosher substances such as gelatin are not included. Other potentially problematic ingredients that may be added to tablet coatings include (di)acetylated
monoglyceride, triacetin and polysorbates. However, a choleh (one who is considered ill) is permitted to consume non-kosher medicines, provided that he does so shelo k’derech achilaso—in an unusual manner. Therefore, in cases of significant need, a choleh may wrap these pills in tissue paper to ensure they are consumed shelo k’derech achilaso
Q: What if there are actual nonkosher ingredients in pills, such as when the capsules are made from gelatin?
A: Rabbi Yisroel Belsky, zt”l, who served as the senior posek at OU Kosher for nearly thirty years, distinguished between two types of gelatin capsules: hard capsules and soft capsules. Regarding medicines encased in hard gelatin capsules (such as those commonly used for antibiotics), Rabbi Belsky said that the minhag is to permit them for a choleh. This is based on the concept mentioned already that a choleh is permitted to consume non-kosher medicines, provided that he does so shelo k’derech achilaso—in an unusual manner. Since it is uncommon to eat dried-out, plasticlike gelatin capsules, one who is ill is permitted to swallow them. Still, this leniency should only be relied upon if a kosher alternative is not available.
On the other hand, soft gelatin capsules—often used for vitamins,
fish oils and some over-the-counter medications—should not be used, according to Rabbi Belsky. These soft capsules are frequently made from pigskin gelatin and are kept soft and pliable with large amounts of glycerin. If one has no other alternative, Rabbi Belsky recommended wrapping a soft gelatin capsule in tissue paper, which constitutes an even more unusual manner of consumption.
However, Rabbi Hershel Schachter, senior posek for OU Kosher, rules that there is no difference between soft and hard gelatin. Even with soft gelatin capsules, it is abnormal to swallow gelatin in this form. Accordingly, for medical reasons, the capsule may be swallowed without wrapping in paper.
Q: Do chewable or liquid medicines need to be kosher?
A: Liquid and chewable medicines are not considered nifsal me’achilah, so they can be halachically problematic.
Liquid medicines often contain ingredients like glycerin—sometimes derived from non-kosher animal fat or recycled non-kosher cooking oil—and emulsifiers such as polysorbates, which can also be non-kosher. If a medicine contains glycerin derived from animal fat, the medicine is non-kosher and, unless someone is a choleh she’yeish bo sakanah (a sick individual with a
potentially life-threatening condition), it should not be taken. Instead, one should seek a kosher-certified source. If a kosher source is not available, and in cases of pressing need—such as administering liquid ibuprofen to a child with a high fever—one may dilute the medicine, since the glycerin is not a key ingredient. The medicine should be diluted so that the glycerin is batel beshishim (nullified if it is less than 1/60th of the mixture). Glycerin typically comprises about 10 percent of the medicine. A doctor or pharmacist should be consulted to ensure that this dilution does not compromise the medicine’s efficacy. In most cases, this requires diluting a teaspoon of medicine in about an ounce of water or juice.
Regarding cough medicines, where glycerin can also play a functional role in coating the throat, the amount of glycerin can be much higher. It is not clear what degree of dilution would be necessary, and according to some posekim, it’s not even clear if dilution is acceptable. One should therefore purchase cough medicine that does not contain glycerin.
Even if a liquid medicine does not contain glycerin, it is still not recommended without kosher certification because it may contain unknown flavors. However, if the only concern is the presence of unknown flavorings, and no kosher equivalent is available, one may be lenient in cases of strong need.
For a child who cannot swallow a pill, a pill crusher can be used to powder the medicine so that it can be mixed into applesauce or similar foods, obviating the need to take a non–kosher certified liquid medicine. Check with a pharmacist to make sure that this is acceptable.
For infant medicines, if a company claims to use only vegetable-based ingredients, one can be lenient if there is no other option. Rabbi Schachter maintains that if one has no kosher option, a small child may be given non-kosher liquid medicine.
Chewable tablets without certification should be avoided, as they might contain non-kosher ingredients used as binders. If a chewable tablet contains stearic
acid or magnesium stearate as a binder, it is advisable to determine whether the company uses only vegetable stearates. Alternatively, it can be wrapped in tissue paper and swallowed so that it is shelo k’derech achilaso. If lactose is used as a binder or filler, this would make the chewable tablet dairy. However, the Aruch Hashulchan (YD 89:7) writes that for refuah (medical purposes), one need only wait one hour between eating meat and dairy, provided one rinses one’s mouth.
Gelatin might also be used as a binder. If a chewable tablet contains gelatin and there is a strong need to take this medicine, it should be wrapped in tissue paper and swallowed.
Some posekim, however, consider pungent-tasting liquid medicines to be equivalent to “iruv bo davar mar” (a “bitter substance” mixed with kosher food). The Rambam writes that if one eats non-kosher food in an abnormal manner, such as by mixing it with bitter ingredients, it is only a rabbinic prohibition. Chazal therefore permitted a choleh to consume nonkosher food in an abnormal manner when necessary for his wellbeing. According to this lenient view, liquid medicines are acceptable for a choleh even if there is no sakanah (lifethreatening condition), provided the medicines have a bad taste.
It is, however, halachically preferable to dilute the medicine so that the glycerin will be batel, in order to avoid all uncertainties. Of course, the best option is to purchase koshercertified medicines. Currently, there is a small number of kosher-certified liquid ibuprofen, acetaminophen and cough medicines available.
Because there are so few koshercertified liquid and children’s medicines, OU Kosher encourages consumers to contact the manufacturers and ask them to pursue kosher certification for their products.
Q: Do vitamins in pill form need a hechsher?
A: Rabbi Belsky would cite Rav Moshe, who considered vitamin
pills to be nutritional supplements— meant to address the deficiencies of processed food. Therefore, they are considered a form of food and, as such, require kosher certification. If the vitamins are taken for therapeutic or medicinal purposes (rather than simply as a dietary supplement), then they would be classified like any other medicinal pill and would be permitted.
Rabbi Schachter maintains that even multivitamins are taken for medical purposes and therefore the halachos of medicines apply to them as well.
Many vitamins on the market come in gelatin capsules, which are commonly derived from nonkosher sources. Aside from the issue of gelatin in the capsule itself, vitamins may also contain non-kosher ingredients. Ideally, one should try to obtain vitamins with kosher certification. The OU certifies certain vitamins as well. Consumers can search for OU-certified vitamins on the OU Kosher mobile app or website: oukosher.org/product-search/.
This article was prepared for publication by Chaya Miriam Waintman—special thanks to Rabbi Gavriel Price, OU Kosher rabbinic coordinator and ingredient research expert, and Rabbi Eli Gersten, recorder of OU pesak and policy.
This article is partially based on “The Kashruth of Medications and Vitamins,” presented by Rabbi Hershel Schachter at Yeshivas Ohr HaChaim in Kew Gardens Hills on February 5, 2008, at a Harry H. Beren ASK OUTREACH kashrus shiur. Listen to the shiur at https:// outorah.org/p/7408/.
This article is also partially based on OU Kosher’s Halacha Yomis, a daily email containing brief halachic tidbits, as well as Daf Hakashrus, a monthly OU newsletter for kashrus professionals. To sign up to receive Halacha Yomis, visit oukosher. org/halacha-yomis/, and to sign up to receive Daf Hakashrus, visit oukosher.org/blog/articles/daf-hakashruth/.
By Rabbi Dr. Ari Z. Zivotofsky
MISCONCEPTION: The reason for waiting between eating meat and eating dairy is to allow the meat to be digested before eating dairy. Over the years, differing views regarding the digestive process led to the development of various waiting periods ranging from one to six hours.
FACT: There are two principal reasons suggested for the required interval, neither relating to digestion. The one-hour and six-hour customs, the main practices, stem from two divergent views of how to understand the primary Talmudic source mandating a wait.
Background: One of the hallmarks of a kosher kitchen and kosher diet is the absolute separation of meat and dairy,1 which includes a mandatory waiting period between eating meat and the subsequent consumption of milk or dairy products.
Despite the outsized role that separation of milk and meat plays in kashrut observance, the only mention of it in the Torah are the three half-sentences (Shemot 23:19; Shemot 34:26; Devarim 14:21) where the Torah adjures: “Lo tevashel gedi bachalev imo—Do not cook a kid in its mother’s milk.”2 From the triple repetition, the Gemara (Chullin 115b) derives3 that there are three prohibitions—not only is cooking (the literal meaning of the words) meat and milk together prohibited, but so is eating or benefiting from a cooked mixture. Biblically, the prohibition applies only to kosher “domesticated”
(beheimah) animals (Shulchan Aruch, YD 87:3).
To safeguard against this prohibition, various rabbinic enactments were promulgated.4 These include not eating uncooked meat and milk together; diners eating meat and those eating dairy not dining at the same table (YD 88:2); and not kneading dough with milk lest one accidentally eat the dairy bread with meat (YD 97:1).5 Another decree is the requirement that after eating any meat, one must wait before eating or drinking dairy products (Rambam, Ma’achalot Assurot 9:28; Shulchan Aruch, YD 89:1).
The Gemara records (Chullin 105a): “Rav Chisda said: If one ate meat, he may not [immediately] eat dairy, but one who ate dairy may eat meat [afterward].”6 The Gemara then quotes Mar Ukva as saying that in this regard he is like “vinegar, the son of wine” compared to his father because his father, after eating meat, would not eat cheese for twenty-four hours, while he, Mar Ukva, would not eat dairy in the same meal but
would wait “l’seudata achrita—for a different meal.”7
The obligation to wait between meat and dairy derives from this unchallenged statement of Mar Ukva. But there are two open questions: 1. the Gemara did not give the reason for the wait, and 2. Mar Ukva’s statement regarding the length of the wait time is unclear.
The Rishonim offer two basic reasons for the waiting period.8 According to Rashi (Chullin 105a, s.v. assur), after eating meat there is residual fat that adheres to the palate and back of the throat that continues to exude meat taste for some time. If one were to eat dairy during this time, this “taste” would cause it to be like eating meat and milk together. According to this theory, after the required waiting period, this residue has dissipated. Rambam (Ma’achalot Assurot 9:28) explains that the waiting is due to the possibility of actual pieces of meat being stuck between the teeth, but he says that if they remain after the required waiting period, they are considered inconsequential.9
These two different explanations carry practical implications (see, e.g., Tur, YD 89). These include chewing meat for a baby but not swallowing it (Rambam: need to wait; Rashi: no need) and finding meat between the teeth after the waiting period (Rambam: no problem; Rashi: problem). The current practice is to accept both positions (Shulchan Aruch, YD 89:1) and thus wait in
both those cases and remove any found pieces.10 Peri Megadim (Mishbetzot Zahav 89:1) explains that this is not a contradiction, as both reasons can be true. He further says that if one chewed pareve food that absorbed fleishig taste but had no actual meat (e.g., potato from cholent), neither reason applies, but nonetheless the custom is to wait.11 Aruch HaShulchan (YD 89:14) says that after merely tasting (without chewing) a fleishig dish (e.g., chicken soup), it is not necessary to wait six hours; although, it is required to clean out one’s mouth by eating a piece of food (e.g., crackers) and taking a drink.
After eating pareve food cooked in a meat pot (with no meat), there is no need to wait (Rema, YD 89:3), nor must one wait after eating real meat in order to eat pareve food cooked in a milk pot (Shu”t Tuv Ta’am Voda’at 3:183).12
Mar Ukva’s statement mandated a wait “between meals,” but what exactly that cryptic phrase means is unclear. Tosafot (Chullin 105a, s.v. l’seudata) understood it to mean simply one cannot consume meat and dairy in the same meal, but there’s no specific waiting time. As long as one clears the table and ends the meat meal by bentching, dairy may be eaten in the ensuing meal. This understanding—that another meal simply means another meal with no waiting—is shared by the Mordechai (Chullin 105a) and Hagahot Maimoniyot in the name of the Ravyah.
Rambam (Ma’achalot Assurot 9:28) understood that Mar Ukva was saying that one must wait the typical time between meals, which Rambam defines as “kemo sheish sha’ot approximately six hours.”13 The Meiri on Chullin (105a) says the waiting period is “no less than the time between meals, which is six hours or close to it,” while in Magen Avot (9; p. 58 in 5718 ed.) the Meiri says that one must wait “six hours or five, the time between meals.” The Rif, the Rosh (Chullin 105a), the Rashba
(ibid.), and the Ba’al HaIttur all understand Mar Ukva’s statement to be referring to the standard interval between meals.
The Shulchan Aruch (YD 89:1) follows the opinion that requires a six-hour wait. The Rema (YD 89:1) cites the opinion of Tosafot that there is no need to wait, and dairy may be eaten as soon as the table is cleared, the meal ended by bentching, and one’s mouth is rinsed and cleaned. The Rema then adds that the custom is to be machmir and also wait an hour. This is the practice to this day among Ashkenazic Dutch Jews.14 It is important to note that the Rema did not end with that ruling but rather concludes that some are meticulous to wait six hours, which, he says, is the proper thing to do.
One and six hours are the only options mentioned by the Shulchan Aruch and the Rema. Over the generations, other customs have emerged. German Jews (Yekkes) have a custom of waiting three hours. This practice does not align with either basic interpretation of Mar Ukva’s statement. There is no early clear source for this practice,15 and many of the great rabbis who served in Germany advised keeping six hours. For example, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (Chorev, chap. 68) wrote: “six hours is recommended.”16 A suggested origin is that they understood Mar Ukva like Rambam, but unlike Peri Megadim (MZ 89:1) who says that six hours means a quarter of the day,17 they understood it as six sha’ot zemaniot, seasonally adjusted hours (Peri Chadash cited in Pitchei Teshuvah 89 and Badei HaShulchan 89:6). In the winter, the six seasonally adjusted hours (the time between meals) is shorter, and they applied that same shorter span even in the summer.18 Alternatively, they may have held like Tosafot with no requirement for any specific interval but waited three hours as a chumrah.
Another practice is to wait somewhat less than six hours, either “into the sixth hour” or five and a half hours. It is not clear when this custom developed, but it is attributed to the
language used by Rambam and the Meiri. Of course, it’s worth noting that those sources were written well before precise timekeeping was the norm.
Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach is quoted (Moriah, Tevet 5756, p. 79) as saying that the proper custom is six full hours. Nevertheless, he says, those who wait “into the sixth hour” can justify this practice based on the wording of the Rambam, giving it a halachic basis. Rabbi Ovadia Yosef (Yabia Omer 1, YD 4:13) wrote similarly about waiting “into the sixth hour.”19
The prevailing view is that six full hours is the proper custom. 20
Rabbi Menashe Klein (Mishneh Halachot 16:9) writes that a person should adopt the six-hour practice even if his family custom is to wait only three—it is not considered a rejection of the community’s tradition. Mishneh Halachot (5:97:3) also rejects waiting “into the sixth hour” and requires a full six hours. Avnei Yashfeh (5:101:4) is equally explicit: anything less than six full hours is unacceptable. He notes that, despite rumors that Rabbi Aharon Kotler permitted five and a half hours, the tradition is clear, and Rabbi Shmuel Wosner concurs that one should observe the full six hours.
Many classic sources are unequivocal about waiting six full hours. The Maharshal (Yam Shel Shlomo, Chullin, chap. 8:9; quoted in Shach 89:8 and Taz, YD 89:2) uses strong language when he says that anyone with a “rei’ach (scent) of Torah” should wait six hours after meat or fowl. The Peri Megadim (Siftei Da’at 89:8) writes that the halachah is six hours and one should not be “poretz geder—break the fence.” Me’am Loez (Shemot 23:19) writes: “after eating meat, one must wait at least six full hours before eating dairy . . . the period of six hours is the same both in the summer when the days are long and in the winter when the days are short.”
Similarly, the Aruch HaShulchan (YD 89:7) notes that the universal custom is to wait six hours, and “chalilah to deviate from it.” The
Ohr HaChaim (Peri To’ar 89:5) adds that one may not rely on any leniency to shorten the time, since the majority of early and later authorities require the full six hours.
The required wait is a rabbinic decree, and authorities were therefore willing to grant dispensations. Thus, if even a mildly sick person is in need of milk for medical reasons, Chochmat Adam (40:13) and Aruch HaShulchan (YD 89:7) are lenient down to an hour, and Shevet HaLevi (2:32), based on the Chatam Sofer, rules similarly, as does Rabbi Ovadia Yosef (Yechaveh Da’at 4:41).
Regarding children, Be’er Moshe (8:36) writes that until age three there is no need to wait at all (although the child’s mouth should not have meat in it at the time he is given dairy). After age three, the child should slowly be trained to wait, depending on his age and needs. Teshuvot V’Hanhagot (1:435) advises beginning training as soon as the child is able to understand, so that by age five or six he is waiting three hours, and by age nine or ten he is waiting the full six hours. Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetsky (Emet L’Yaakov, YD 89, n. 36) held that it is unnecessary for a child under six to wait, and that pregnant and nursing women who have a need may wait only one hour. Rabbi Ovadia Yosef (Yabia Omer 3, YD 3:7) clarifies that this leniency applies only to necessary food, not to items such as chocolate.
Despite the lack of discussion about digestion in the classical sources, there are those who believe that waiting between meat and milk is related to digestion. My family has a tradition that my greatgrandmother, Chava Silverman, decided in her old age that her digestive system had slowed down and waiting six hours was insufficient and so she began waiting twenty-four hours.21 She was born in Slonim, in Western Belarus, and moved to the US after she was
married in the 1920s and was likely unaware of Mar Ukva’s statement (Chullin 105a) regarding his father waiting twenty-four hours between meat and milk. She simply felt it was the proper thing to do and thus adopted it.
In the classical sources about waiting between meat and milk, there is no indication that the waiting time is connected to digestion. The misconception may stem from the frequent use of the word for digestion, ikul, in these discussions—not in the sense of food being digested, but rather in reference to the meat in the mouth breaking down. For example, Chochmat Adam (40:12), when explaining Rashi’s reason, writes that the meat continues to exude taste until the end of the waiting period, at which point it disintegrates. The term used for this disintegration is ikul. Digestion is discussed in connection with a different halachah—the latest time for reciting Birkat Hamazon (Shulchan Aruch, OC 184:5)—where it is equated with the period during which one remains fully satiated. Kaf HaChaim (OC 184:28) cites doctors who give the average time for digestion as six hours, while other sources provide different figures.
A few later sources did introduce digestion into the meat/milk discussion. For example, Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschutz (Peleiti 89:3) connects the waiting time between meat and milk to the digestion times mentioned in the Birkat Hamazon discussion. Some then took this further, arguing that since the wait is tied to digestion—and sleep speeds digestion (so they thought)—sleep could shorten the required wait (see, e.g., Rabbi Avraham Pietrokovski, Piskei Teshuvah 3:285). This view is strongly rejected by most authorities (see, e.g., Shu”t Beit Avi 3, YD 108; Teshuvot V’Hanhagot 1:431).
In the twenty-first century, most of the actions that ensure the food we eat is kosher happen without the consumer’s conscious awareness.
Whether it’s checking that an animal is not a treifah, salting meat to remove blood, lighting a fire so food is not bishul akum, or separating terumot and ma’asrot, the consumer neither performs these actions nor usually knows who did them or when. One of the few areas of kashrut that the consumer is keenly aware of is the careful separation of meat and dairy, including the six-hour wait between eating meat and then dairy. This attention to products, dishes, food preparation, and timing creates an opportunity to reflect on all the other aspects of kashrut—and on the fact that, as Jews, we subordinate even our most basic needs, such as eating, to the will of the Creator.
Notes
1. This separation has long been a distinguishing feature. For many centuries, Karaites were referred to by Rabbinates (rabbinic leadership at the time) as “eaters of meat and milk” because they rejected the rabbinic interpretation of this Biblical rule. See Marina Rustow, Heresy and the Politics of Community: The Jews of the Fatimid Caliphate (New York, 2008), chap. 8.
2. The manner in which the Torah expresses these prohibitions is unusual. See Chatam Sofer to Chullin 108b for possible explanations of what can be derived from the specific language.
3. The Ba’al HaTurim (Devarim 14:21) finds a numerical hint for this derashah: the gematrias of “lo tevashel—do not cook” (763) and “issur achilah u’bishul v’hana’ah— prohibition of eating and cooking and benefiting” (764) are equal (to within 1).
4. The Ran (Chullin 32b in Rif pages; cf. Chochmat Adam 40:11) suggests that Chazal enacted stringencies regarding the prohibition of meat and milk, because each is independently permitted and therefore people do not instinctively recoil from them. This is similar to the stringencies regarding chametz on Pesach, since it is permitted the rest of the year.
5. There are specific exceptions to this rule.



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6. After eating dairy there is no waiting requirement, but there is a need to do kinuach, “taste removal,” accomplished by eating a solid bland food such as bread or a cracker; rechitzah, washing (the hands); and hadachah, rinsing (of the mouth) with a liquid such as water or wine (YD 89:2). Rema (89:2) adds a requirement to wait a period of time after eating cheese, or specifically “hard” (aged) cheese.
7. An important lesson can be derived from Mar Ukva’s statement and behavior. While he viewed his father’s practice as laudatory, he did not adopt it. Why? Mesillat Yesharim (chap. 14, B’chelkei Haprishut) and Eglei Tal (Rabbi Yehoshua Yosef Preil, 5659, ma’amar 1, 13a) explain that a chumrah may not be right for everyone. Rather, only one on a certain level should adopt specific practices. Mar Ukva, knowing himself, understood that unlike his father, in this regard, it was more appropriate for him to follow the basic halachah.
The Meiri (Shabbat 56a) notes that in general a child should follow his father’s pious practices (cf. Pesachim 50b with commentaries; Chavot Yair 126; Pitchei Teshuvah, YD 214:5). Similarly, Rabbi David Friedman of Karlin, in the first footnote to his Kuntres HaMinhagim in Shu”t She’eilot David, points out that generally a custom adopted by someone obligates his children. Mar Ukva’s father must have accepted this as a personal stringency that was not intended to be binding on his son (cf. Chayei Adam 27:11 and Iggerot Moshe 3, OC 64).
Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetsky used this gemara to explain a custom not to eat dairy on Friday (Making of a Godol, p. 135; see footnotes there for other explanations).
8. See summaries in Tur, YD 89; Taz 89:1; Shach 89:2; and Badei HaShulchan 89:1.
9. According to Rashi, pieces of meat found in the teeth after six hours are still of significance. Thus, such pieces must be removed, although no additional waiting is required (Rema, YD 89:1; Aruch Hashulchan, YD 89:5; Shach, YD 89:2).
10. See also Kaf HaChaim, YD 89:4, and Rabbi Akiva Eiger, YD 89, s.v. achar
11. Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (Iggerot Moshe, YD 2:26) says that since after swallowing fleishig vitamins neither reason applies and it is not a usual way to eat, there is no need to wait.
12. After eating pareve food cooked together with meat, according to the Shulchan Aruch (YD 89:3) there is no need to wait, but while the Rema agrees in principle, he says the proper thing to do is to follow the custom and wait.
13. Two (not three) daily meals was the norm—see, e.g., Pe’ah 8:7 and Sukkah 2:6. The Gra (Shulchan Aruch, YD 89:2) points to Shabbat 10a as a source that six hours was the standard interval between meals in the Talmudic period.
14. Dutch Rabbi Raphael Evers (Shu”t V’Shav V’Rafa 3:114) justifies the practice but notes that Dutch rabbinic families waited six hours.
15. The one source often cited is Issur V’Heter (39; p. 3b in 1882 ed.) attributed to the fourteenth-century Rabbeinu Yerucham. The problem is that Rabbeinu Yerucham in his classic Toldot Adam V’Chavah (Netiv 15) writes six hours. Rabbi Asher Weiss (Shu”t Minchat Asher 1:42:2) notes the contradiction and observes that this statement in Issur V’Heter is not cited by subsequent posekim. He thinks it is a printing error.
16. Despite the tenuous origins of this practice, it is reported (Shorshei Minhag Ashkenaz, vol. 1, introduction, n. 8) that Rabbi Elazar Shach told someone to maintain his three-hour family custom and not switch to six hours.
17. A logical assumption, given that the issue relates to the time it takes the food in the mouth to halachically decay, a process that seemingly would not vary seasonally.
18. This suggestion is mentioned by Darkei Teshuvah, YD 89:6, in the name of eighteenth-century Italian Rabbi David Pardo (Mizmor L’David, Hilchot Basar V’Chalav, p. 61a) who concludes “v’yesh lahem ketzat al mah lismoch” (note that he says “ketzat”). For a detailed explanation of the three-hour
custom, see Rabbi Yosef Yisrael Grossman (Mesorah [published by the OU] 8, Nissan 5753, pp. 75–77; and 14, Tishrei 5758, pp. 84–86), who builds his case based on the shortest day in Kafri, near Baghdad, where Mar Ukva lived, and on the Talmudic evidence of the eating habits of talmidei chachamim
19. Nishmat Avraham, YD 89:1, n. 1, says that Rabbi Chaim Brisker deduced from Rambam that one need only wait “into the fifth hour.”
20. Aruch HaShulchan, YD 89:4, says there must be six hours from the end of the meat meal until the start of the dairy meal, not between the meat and dairy. Others disagree and count from the cessation of eating meat, even if the meal is extended (Rivevot Ephraim 5:513 and Badei HaShulchan 89:1, p. 50, Bi’urim, s.v. she’yishaheh). The latter is the accepted practice.
21. For various reasons, there are those who adopted the practice of Mar Ukva’s father. Shu”t Mekadesh Yisrael (Rabbi Y.D. Harfenes; Chag HaShavuot, 84 [p. 377 in 5782 ed.]) reports that Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Otwock waited a full twenty-four hours between meat and dairy. Darkei Teshuvah (YD 89:1:6) rules that just as the basic halachah requires a full six hours, those who practice like Mar Ukva’s father must wait the full twenty-four hours.
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By Naomi Ross
Gloves, hats and boots have all made their way to the front of my hall closet. Like little soldiers lined up before battle, they’re ready for a cold winter. My pantry is also hunkering down for a hibernation of sorts, a time of year when I try to avoid going into the elements more than I have to and when I look for warming, homey foods to serve up for dinner. If staying out of the cold and minimizing shopping trips is a priority, then advanced menu planning and keeping basic staples in stock become necessities during the winter. Pantry items that last coupled with less variety of fresh seasonal produce may mean that canned and frozen vegetables end up becoming more heavily used in your home than in the fruit-bearing months of the year. Extra dry goods such as pastas, grains, legumes, et cetera, might take up more space in your cupboard, but that probably won’t bother you as much as battling twenty-degree windchills. That box of spaghetti is beginning to look oh-so much more attractive.
Here are some winner-winner “pantry dinners” perfect for any wintry weeknight!
One-Pan Chicken Pasta Piccata
Yields 4–6 servings
A one-pan dish, the pasta gets cooked in the same pan with plenty of chicken stock.
1 pound chicken tenders
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 cloves garlic (1 tablespoon), minced
¼ teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 pint grape tomatoes, halved 5½ cups low-sodium chicken stock
¼ cup fresh lemon juice
(from about 1½ lemons)
1 teaspoon oregano
1 tablespoon capers
1/3 cup chopped parsley or basil leaves
1 pound spaghetti
Kosher salt and ground black pepper, to taste
Season chicken with Kosher salt and pepper to taste.
Heat oil in a wide deep skillet over medium-high heat. Sear for 2–3 minutes per side until golden brown. Transfer chicken out of pan to a plate. Add garlic and pepper flakes; cook for 1–2 minutes. Add tomatoes and cook for 2–3 minutes.
Add stock, juice, oregano and capers. Bring back to a boil. Add dry spaghetti, mixing to soften and fit into the pan. Continue to cook for 10–15 minutes, stirring often, until pasta is tender and has absorbed most of the liquid. The pasta should be coated with a light, creamy sauce. Meanwhile, slice the chicken tenders into thin strips crosswise. Return chicken strips to the pan and add parsley and/or basil. Toss to blend and coat. Season to taste with additional salt and pepper as desired. Serve immediately.
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).
Yields 6 servings
When classic Italian meat sauce gets an Indian infusion of spices, the results are deliciously satisfying. Serve over pasta or mashed potatoes.
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2 teaspoons minced garlic (from about 2 cloves)
2 teaspoons minced fresh ginger
1 teaspoon Kosher salt
1 pound ground beef
1 pound ground veal
1 (28-ounce) can crushed tomatoes
1/3 cup dry red wine (like merlot or cabernet)
1½ tablespoons garam masala
¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon tamarind concentrate or paste
2 teaspoons sugar
2–3 tablespoons fresh chopped parsley or cilantro
Heat oil in a large, deep skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion, garlic, ginger and salt. Sauté until onions are translucent, about 5–6 minutes.
Add ground beef and veal, stirring to break up meat into small bits. Continue until all meat is browned, mixing often.
Add crushed tomatoes, wine, spices, tamarind paste and sugar. Stir to blend until well incorporated. Bring back to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Simmer gently uncovered for about 25 minutes, until mixture has cooked into a thickened sauce.
Season to taste with salt and pepper, if needed. Sprinkle with chopped parsley and/or cilantro and serve over pasta or mashed potatoes.

Pretzel-Crusted Chicken Fingers with MapleMustard Dipping Sauce
Pretzels add a great crunch and flavor as a breading for this fun and easy oven-fried chicken dish. A perfect way to use up leftover broken pretzels!
Chef’s Note
Prepare your own pretzel crumbs by giving pretzels a “whiz” in the food processor—pulse until coarse crumbs are formed.
4 boneless chicken breasts, cut into long thin strips (or use tenders)
¾ cup mayonnaise
3 tablespoons pure maple syrup
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2–3 teaspoons sriracha sauce (or hot red pepper sauce)
¼ teaspoon Kosher salt
¼ teaspoon black pepper
½ teaspoon smoked paprika
2 cups pretzel crumbs (homemade or purchased)
2–3 tablespoons olive oil
Line a sheet pan with tin foil or parchment paper; grease with cooking spray or oil. Set aside. Preheat oven to 400°F degrees. In a medium mixing bowl, combine mayonnaise, maple syrup, mustard, sriracha and spices; whisk to blend. Season to taste to adjust seasonings. Reserve and transfer about 1/3 cup of mixture into a separate container (this will be used as dipping sauce for serving).
Dip each of the chicken strips in the mixture to coat, allowing excess sauce to drip off. Then dredge in pretzel crumbs. Arrange breaded chicken in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil. Place baking sheet in oven and bake for 10–12 minutes. Using tongs, turn all chicken pieces over on baking sheet. Bake for another 10–12
minutes. Chicken should be golden and crisp.
Remove from oven. Serve with reserved dipping sauce.
Yields 4–6 servings
An all-in-one sheet-pan dinner! Use a sturdy sheet-pan (not disposable!) for best cooking and heat conduction.
2 heads cauliflowers, cored and broken into florets
(Consult the OU Manual for Checking Fruits & Vegetables for instructions on how to check cauliflower for insects, https://oukosher.org/ouguide-to-checking-produce -and-more/.)
1–2 onions, sliced
2 teaspoons Kosher salt
2 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1½ teaspoons paprika, plus more for sprinkling
1½ teaspoons turmeric
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1/3 cup olive oil
4–6 chicken leg quarters (with skin on)
1–2 tablespoons silan
Preheat oven to 400°F. Line a sheet pan with foil or parchment.
Combine cauliflower florets, onions, spices and olive oil in a large bowl; toss to coat. Transfer mixture to sheet pan and spread out evenly. Arrange chicken on top; sprinkle with pepper and paprika. Drizzle with silan.
Bake for 50–60 minutes, until everything is tender and cooked through.

Pretzel-Crusted
By Rabbi Gersion Appel; revised edition edited by Rabbi Daniel Goldstein
OU Press and Maggid Books

First published in 1977 and now presented in a revised edition edited by Rabbi Daniel Goldstein, Rabbi Dr. Gersion Appel’s Concise Code of Jewish Law: A Guide to Daily Prayer and Religious Observance is a carefully structured and highly accessible contribution to the modern literature of practical halachah. This volume covers the areas of daily observance and is divided into four sections. Part I contains the laws of prayer and the synagogue, from waking up in the morning until going to sleep at night, in addition to the laws of daily Torah study, tzitzit, tefillin and mezuzah. Part II contains the laws of berachot for every day and special occasions. Part III contains the laws of kashrut necessary for every Jewish home, and Part IV, titled “Acknowledging the Divine Order,” includes such prohibitions as tattooing and grafting trees and such obligations as the duty to protect human life and property.
The foundation of this work is the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch, Rav Shlomo Ganzfried’s classic digest of Jewish law, long beloved for its concision and clarity. While the Shulchan Aruch remains the definitive halachic reference, its complexity and breadth can overwhelm the average reader. The Kitzur, meanwhile, though concise and practical, was written in the nineteenth century and reflects the needs and realities of that time. Rabbi Appel’s Concise Code takes the logical order of the Kitzur as its foundation but supplements it with material from other classical sources—such as Chayei Adam, Chachmat Adam and the Mishnah Berurah—while also incorporating halachic annotations drawn from contemporary responsa literature.
This last feature is the most significant innovation of Rabbi Appel’s work. While the body of the text
presents an adaptation of the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch (or, where relevant, the Chayei Adam or Chachmat Adam), annotations on almost every page incorporate relevant halachic insights and modern applications from contemporary works and responsa, such as Rabbi Moshe Feinstein’s Iggerot Moshe, Rabbi Ovadia Yosef’s Yabia Omer and Rabbi Eliezer Waldenburg’s Tzitz Eliezer. In this revised edition, Rabbi Daniel Goldstein has updated the annotations to incorporate the halachic literature that has been published since the first edition, including, for example, the works of Rabbi Hershel Schachter and Rabbi Eliezer Melamed. These halachic annotations are accompanied by a section of Hebrew references at the end of the volume. In addition, Rabbi Goldstein has made the work even more user-friendly by refining the language to feel fresh and relevant for twenty-first-century readers. The result is a code that preserves the clarity of the Kitzur while updating its application for the modern era.
A few of the relevant topics discussed in the halachic annotations include: Should techelet be worn today? May one enter a shul with a cellphone? May one enter a shul with a gun? How should one daven when on an airplane? May one dispose of newspapers containing Divrei Torah? Can one kasher a dishwasher? May one recite HaGomel in the presence of ten people over Zoom? These topics and many others like them found in this volume demonstrate the need for this work, which addresses not only classical halachic issues but also the ever-evolving real-world scenarios to which halachah must be applied.
The genius of The Concise Code lies in its accessibility. Newcomers to Jewish practice will find the book approachable and practical, while experienced students of halachah will appreciate the extensive notes that point toward further study. Glossaries, indices and topical references make navigation easy, while the structure—mirroring the rhythm of Jewish life—ensures that learning feels natural and connected. In his introduction to the volume and throughout, Rabbi Appel weaves into his legal discussions the spiritual ideas that give Jewish law its depth of meaning.
Since its first publication in 1977, The Concise Code has guided thousands toward a fuller, richer Jewish life. With this revised edition, his vision is carried forward for today’s world. In short, this work captures the beauty of halachah as both a framework for daily action and a gateway to spiritual connection. This updated edition ensures that Rabbi Appel’s vision will continue to inspire and guide yet another generation toward living a life of Torah and mitzvot in both detail and spirit.

By Rabbi Ahron Lopiansky
Eshel Publications 2024
388 pages
Reviewed by Rabbi Yosef Gavriel Bechhofer
Baruch Hashem, the yeshiva population has grown immensely, and the ability of rebbeim to relate personally to each of their talmidim is strained. Consequently, many talmidim unfortunately do not have a close relationship with a rebbi. Furthermore, even bachurim who have a close relationship with their rebbeim may feel hesitant or uncomfortable discussing certain topics. In any case, hopefully this sefer will serve as a springboard for discussing vital issues with rebbeim (Preface to Ben Yeshiva: Pathway of Aliyah, p. xxix)
Among Rabbi Ahron Lopiansky’s several explanations for why he has written Ben Yeshiva: Pathway of Aliyah—a book on matters that
were once conveyed verbally in direct interactions between rebbeim and talmidim—this seems the most significant. In many cases, the issue stems from yeshivahs becoming increasingly large and impersonal. Yet even among smaller yeshivahs, this phenomenon is prevalent. I once taught in a yeshivah high school where an administrator reminded me to bear in mind that the yeshivah was built on a philosophy emphasizing distance between rebbeim and talmidim. Other institutions are concerned about the propriety of close relationships between rebbeim and students—some of which have indeed been found to cross appropriate boundaries while others were simply misunderstood or misconstrued. Shabbos meals or Shabbatonim with a rebbi, which in the past were integral and even essential components of the yeshivah’s educational program, are often frowned upon or no longer allowed.
Rabbi Lopiansky, rosh yeshivah of the Yeshiva of Greater Washington and the author of numerous scholarly works in Hebrew and English, opens the sefer with a profound reflection on the differences between prior generations (mine included) and the current one. In the not-sodistant-past, a young man inclined toward dedicating himself to Torah growth often found himself struggling against a milieu—and even a community—that, though observant, was not particularly sympathetic to his aspirations. While yeshivah high school and even a year in Israel had become de
rigueur, a longer-term commitment to Torah study was frequently met with ambivalence, if not outright discouragement, by parents and others. To commit to serious growth in Torah required the young man to be, in Rabbi Lopiansky’s terms, omed al da’ato—to develop a unique self-awareness and independent identity that would serve as the foundation for his holistic pursuit of self-development in Torah. Today, when the dedication of several or even many years toward Torah growth is self-understood or at least tolerated in much broader circles, that dedication may become rote and lack the self-awareness and independent identity that genuine struggle requires. Rabbi Lopiansky’s first chapters are meant to help the student realize that his years in yeshivah are a journey of selfdiscovery and development of self.1 The place—the yeshivah—and its unique environment are no less an essential part of this journey than the Torah studied therein.
After clarifying that point, the author proceeds to spend several chapters dealing with the actual learning that takes place within the yeshivah. The book thoroughly examines the nuances of a classic Lithuanian Talmud-focused yeshivah experience, including b’iyun (in-depth learning) and bekiyus (learning to acquire broader knowledge), learning b’chavrusa (with a study partner), the lost art of writing and the even rarer
Rabbi Yosef Gavriel Bechhofer, a frequent contributor to Jewish Action, is a rav, rebbi and dayan
Rabbi Lopianksy . . . does not shy away from deftly addressing behaviors such as smoking and drinking as well.
phenomenon of testing. The amount of time and effort to be invested in other areas of Torah, such as halachah, Chumash and musar, is considered as well. Separate sections on different forms of public speaking cover the very distinct skills of delivering a “shtickel Torah” versus a “devar Torah.”
The book then moves on to areas that are less frequently addressed in the yeshivah world—and in Orthodox circles in general: “Building an Emotional Connection with Hashem,” “Tefillah” and “Regesh and Inspiration.” Observant Jews of all ages—especially if they are not from communities where emotional connectedness is more central to religious life—must grapple with questions about the appropriate measure of intensity in these areas of our avodas Hashem.
Here is a small example of one of the many fundamental points made in these chapters: When we sit down to sing or stand up to dance to the words of a niggun, we need to ask ourselves, “What do the words mean to me? Does this tune fit the message of the words? Or, if it is a niggun without words, “What are my emotions expressing? Is the tune bringing out a deeper sense of things, or is it simply exciting the body?”2
In Part II, “Building Upwards,” Rabbi Lopiansky poses a question on Ramchal’s statement in the Mesillas Yesharim that “man was created for the sole purpose of being ‘misaneig’—receiving pleasure— from Hashem”3: “Why is this man’s core mission? Why is it not ‘to serve Hashem’ or ‘to make the world a better place?’”4
The author must begin by clarifying which types of pleasure Ramchal
did not mean to be encompassed in his statement. In a later chapter, he provides a nuanced analysis of how the pleasure of eating fits into avodas Hashem. 5 It is to Rabbi Lopiansky’s credit that he does not shy away from deftly addressing behaviors such as smoking and drinking as well. This then leads into the greatest challenge in the inappropriate pursuit of pleasure that confronts the contemporary yeshivah bachur: that of improper thoughts and behavior. The author understands the generation. After elaborating on our temptations and tests, he writes: This means that talmidim today have a far more difficult time in this area than bachurim of previous generations.6 The upshot of this reality is that instead of feeling guilty every time we fail, we should feel proud of every success that we have!
In a brief chapter dealing with “Addictive Behavior and Technology,” Rabbi Lopiansky concludes with a surprising (though to me, gratifying) note of caution against following professional sports, because the investment of time, mental energy and emotion can hinder one from succeeding as a ben aliyah 7
The book then turns to the character traits essential for achieving greatness, acknowledging the individualized nature of that pursuit, and concludes fittingly with the pursuit of harbatzas Torah (teaching and disseminating Torah) as a representative of Hashem and His Torah.
The entire work is full of classic references, with the major ones translated and the ancillary ones left in the original Hebrew. Most significantly, the principles are
illustrated with meaningful vignettes and anecdotes, many drawn from the illustrious author’s rich treasure trove of personal encounters and experiences, making for a truly engaging masterpiece.
Who is the book’s audience? The work is suitable even for a slightly precocious young man entering high school. It is certainly appropriate for older high school students, and of course, its intended readers are talmidim embarking on post–high school yeshivah learning. However, adults—including older adults— will gain much from the profound thoughts and ideas that emerge from Ben Yeshiva. Ultimately, Ben Yeshiva serves as a timeless guide for spiritual growth and personal refinement.
I would like to end with a challenge. Some years ago, I reviewed in these pages the wonderful book for men navigating the working world, Making It Work: A Practical Guide to Halacha in the Workplace by Rabbi Ari Wasserman. I noted that it would be of great benefit for the Jewish people to possess a similar book geared toward women in the workplace. Rabbi Wasserman rose to the challenge and produced, together with his wife, Miryam Wasserman, the equally wonderful companion volume, Making It All Work: Women Surviving and Thriving at Work. Rabbi Lopiansky serves as the rabbinical consultant for many girls’ schools. I look forward to his writing (perhaps with a suitable co-author) the companion volume to Ben Yeshiva, a work of guidance for the Bas Yisrael.
Notes
1. There is no good term in English to describe the process that these years represent. There is, however, a term for it in German, Bildung. “Bildung is a German word for education, cultivation, personal formation and character, emotional and moral development, and maturation combined. Definitions abound, and we will never be done with exploring
and defining them,” https://www. nordicbildung.org/lexicon/what-isbildung/.
2. This is an issue that requires a separate analysis. Many years ago, a popular Orthodox Jewish singer took the niggun of a lewd (but catchy) German disco/rock song, “Genghis Khan,” and put Yiddish lyrics to the tune. When the song was played at weddings, the crowd would often break from the standard “Yeshivish shuffle” circle dancing into a more complex line dance. To me, this harks back to the origins of the tune and suggests that it is more about exciting the body than awakening the soul. I was once at a wedding where Rabbi Aharon Schechter, zt”l, the rosh yeshivah of Mesivta Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin, was dancing. When he danced at a wedding, an ethereal look would suffuse his face, and at that moment, the band happened to be playing this tune. I pointed out to a talmid of mine standing next to me the jarring dissonance between the sound of the music and the look on the rosh yeshivah’s face.
3. One could quibble over translating “al Hashem” as “from Hashem” rather
than “upon [his relationship with] Hashem,” but that is not germane to our discussion.
4. In a later chapter, the author deals briefly with the all-important concept of lishmah (for its own sake). It would seem apropos to quote the well-known Rabbi Avraham min Hahar and the Eglei Tal who explain that to learn Torah (and to do mitzvos) lishmah means to enjoy the learning and performance and find pleasure in them.
5. One might have hoped for some reference to the ever-expanding set of occasions where kugel and/or cholent have become essential components of the event. At some point, someone will hopefully address this form of indulgence, which seems to have become excessive—and is unhealthy.
6. Of course, while this work is addressed to bachurim, this statement applies to men of all ages.
7. See the exchange between Rabbi Mayer Schiller and me on spectator sports and avodas Hashem in the “Letters to the Editor” section of The Torah U-Madda Journal, vol. 7 (1997).



By Yisroel Besser
ArtScroll Mesorah Publications
New Jersey, 2024
389 pages
Reviewed by Yehuda Geberer
The strength of Yisroel Besser’s new book, Kotzk: The Rebbe, The Message, The Legacy lies in its ability to navigate in a creative fashion the tumultuous waters of those who researched and wrote about Kotzk over the centuries—thus making it compatible for the book’s intended audience. In the introduction, the author clearly states his goal. “In this book, we sought to . . . allow reverence, rather than poetic license, to guide us, and to use the Torah and stories of Kotzk, as transmitted by members of that sacred chaburah, as puzzle pieces to create a full story.”
Nowhere does the author claim that this is a biography of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Morgenstern of
Kotzk, nor is the term “biography” ever used (except on the dust jacket, but it seems that that doesn’t originate from the author). The essence of Kotzk is not developed in a historical, philosophical or theological fashion in this book. Instead, it is experienced through interactions with the Kotzker’s teachers, friends and followers and through anecdotes from his life and leadership. This is a book that conveys the teachings, sayings and legacy of the Kotzker Rebbe. And it does so in an engaging and powerful way.
Reading the book and hearing the Kotzker’s homiletical interpretations of various Biblical and Talmudic passages as educational messages that he demanded from his followers, one transcends the confines of our temporal existence and is transported to the fiery environment of those who were in the proximity of the Kotzker. With his brilliant writing ability, Besser achieves the optimal balance between lively stories and timeless teachings. Indeed, there were several times while reading it—and I read it cover to cover twice!—that I felt myself present within the firmament of nineteenth-century Kotzk.
The first five chapters contain some biographical information, but even there the facts of external time and place play a secondary role, while the primary focus is devoted to a description of the Kotzker’s spiritual development and intense inner world. That the biographical section is secondary is ultimately a
good thing because it contains some factual errors, which I choose not to focus on as they make for relatively minor quibbles.
The bulk of the work is devoted to the Kotzker’s teachings on a wide array of subjects, almost like a Kotzk guide to the service of G-d. Individual chapters explore the Kotzk approach to Torah, truth, humility, growth, faith, prayer, purity, repentance and fear of Heaven, to mention a few. Each topic is illustrated with anecdotes, together with the Kotzker Rebbe’s succinct sayings, sharp remarks and incisive insights, accompanied by the author’s running commentary.
The last three chapters return to brief descriptions of the Kotzker’s court, with the final chapter containing a short summary of the Kotzker’s later years and passing.
Had the book laid claim to presenting a full historical profile of the world of Kotzk, then one could gripe about the lack of focus on the historical narrative, especially of the Kotzker’s years of seclusion and the well-known dispute with Izhbitz. But this book does not claim to be what it is not. Instead of rehashing the familiar story of his later years of seclusion, which features in most other works on this charismatic yet enigmatic figure, this book engages
Yehuda Geberer is a historian and tour guide of Jewish historical sites in Europe and Israel, and he is the host of the Jewish History Soundbites podcast.
The Kotzker was cognizant of the fact that his approach was certainly more extreme than others . . . .‘The middle of the road,’ the Rebbe would say, ‘is for horses.’
the audience with the richness and fire of Kotzk. Although it seemingly deliberately minimizes a discussion of the more perplexing aspects of the Kotzker’s character that so piqued the interest of writers and researchers over the past two centuries, some of his rather antinomian beliefs are alluded to through an exploration of his pithy, sometimes provocative, sayings and teachings.
This gem captures the essence of the Kotzker’s credo for a life worth living:
If a bed is like a grave, then the grave will be like a bed. But if the bed is like a bed, then the grave will be as a grave. If a person views sleep as necessary, but nothing more—the bed like a grave, which a person prefers to avoid—choosing to remain awake and accomplish, then his life will be productive and rich. In that case, his eternal rest will be peaceful, the grave like a bed. But if during his time in this world the person viewed the bed as a destination, enjoying and luxuriating in the comfort of sleep, then he will have little to show, and the grave will indeed be a grave! (156)
The Kotzker often used provocative language to encourage his followers to pause and reflect, as this anecdote illustrates:
One morning, the Rebbe noticed a chassid preparing for Shacharis, but the chassid appeared weary and dispirited. The Rebbe suggested that he skip davening Shacharis and go eat breakfast. The chassid,
baffled by the Rebbe’s advice, said that he could not eat because he had not yet davened Shacharis, and halacha dictated that a person has to daven before eating. “Why do you care what the halacha says?” asked the Rebbe. “Because Hakadosh Baruch Hu made the heaven and earth, it is His world and He sustains us at each moment. The reason we are here is to fulfill His will,” the chassid answered. The Rebbe nodded. “Ah, perhaps now you are ready to daven,” he said. (178)
In an even more controversial declaration, the Kotzker spoke admirably of a character whom most would hesitate to praise whatsoever: “And Pharaoh arose at night (Shemos 12:30).” Rashi offers a single word of elaboration: “mimitaso—[Pharaoh got up] from his bed.” Why is this necessary? . . . “Pharaoh,” the Rebbe said, “was a real apikores, with the strength and conviction to follow through!” Moshe Rabbeinu had accurately predicted the first nine makkos, each happening precisely as he had foretold. Now they were facing the tenth makkah, with the prospect of every firstborn in Mitzrayim dying. Pharaoh himself was a bechor, and he should have been trembling with fright, pleading and begging for a reprieve. But what did he do? Rashi tells us exactly what he did. He went to sleep. When Moshe came, Pharaoh got up—from his bed! “It is worth learning,” the Rebbe concluded, “from that sort of conviction.” (221)
Perhaps the most well-known character trait in Kotzk was the pursuit of honesty to an extreme. This is portrayed through a teaching of the Kotzker:
After Adam HaRishon ate from the Eitz HaDaas, Hashem confronted him, asking him if he had eaten from the tree of which he had been commanded not to eat. And the man said, “The woman whom You gave to be with me—she gave me of the tree, and I ate” (Bereishis 3:12). Instead of using the past tense of ate, v’achalti, Adam used the word va’ochel, which means “I will eat.” The Midrash (Bereishis Rabbah 19:12) explains: Adam said: “I ate, and will eat again.” How are we to understand this? . . . The Kotzker Rebbe explained what the Midrash is saying—not in censure, but in praise of Adam HaRishon. . . . Adam’s answer was honest, and sad. “I have eaten, and I would again,” he said, telling the Ribbono shel Olam that unfortunately, he did not feel like he had been freed from the influence of the yetzer hara. (114–115)
On that same theme of pure honesty, the Kotzker didn’t view disparagingly any behavior that he saw as an expression of authenticity, as illustrated with an amusing tale:
At the Pesach Seder, one of the guests was unusually thirsty. The Kos Shel Eliyahu was poured, the purple wine glistening in the large silver becher. Unable to restrain himself, the guest rudely grabbed the large cup and swallowed its contents. He was quite embarrassed, but the Rebbe appreciated a gesture he saw as perfectly genuine. “Look, Eliyahu Hanavi is a guest here, and you are a guest here too. If he did not drink it, then why shouldn’t you enjoy it?” (124)
The Kotzker didn’t hesitate to criticize the approach or leadership styles of other rabbinical and Chassidic leaders of his age. One of the reasons for the opposition to Kotzk during his time was his tendency to bluntly speak his mind, even when it contained implied criticism of others. One example:
The pasuk states that Yehoshua ben Nun and Calev ben Yefuneh tore their garments (Bamidbar 14:6). Why was this the way they showed their distress? Because, the Kotzker Rebbe explained, the other Meraglim were leaders of the people and they certainly dressed the part, wearing high shtreimlach and veisse yubitzes (white silk Shabbos garb). Now, Yehoshua and Calev recognized how meaningless these garments were. How can one dress like a tzaddik, but act in a way that does not reflect tzidkus? “In that case,” they said, “what’s the point in wearing the Rebbishe begadim?” (127)
His disregard for distinguished lineage also made the Kotzker an anomaly among other rabbinical and Chassidic leaders of his era. He articulated his lack of regard for yichus:
A distinguished Jew came to Kotzk, and when the Rebbe asked his name, he introduced himself as a grandson of the Yid Hakadosh, who had been a Rebbe of the Kotzker Rebbe. “Another son of someone’s son,” the Rebbe sighed. “I asked who you are, not who your grandfather was!” (117)
Finally, it’s worth mentioning the overarching philosophy that permeated the entire atmosphere of Kotzk. The Kotzker was cognizant of the fact that his approach was certainly more extreme than others: “The chaburah adhered to a very defined path.
‘The middle of the road,’ the Rebbe would say, ‘is for horses’” (77).
Much has been written about Kotzk. In the introduction to the current work, Besser cites a list of works he consulted, and it’s obviously far from exhaustive. As a result of the contentiousness of the subject matter, any author would have had to make choices on how to navigate this historical narrative. Indeed, Besser opened the book with these words: “I have written other books, b’chasdei Hashem, but none were as difficult to write as this one. I knew, going in, that the topic was beyond me, a story more complex and nuanced than almost any other.”
Exemplifying some of the greatest ideals of Kotzk— integrity, striving for greatness, doing what’s right and not being concerned with how it could be misjudged by others—the author chose his sources well, weaving together some of the most interesting, meaningful and impactful teachings of Kotzk, presenting the reader with an exciting journey into one of the greatest minds and hearts in the history of the Chassidic movement.
By Rabbi Akiva Males
While sitting in my shul in Memphis, Tennessee, on a recent Shabbos, I watch a group of young boys surrounding the bimah, belting out “Ein Kelokeinu” with infectious enthusiasm. I smile and find myself awash in a sea of memories.
Growing up in the 1980s, shul was a central part of my childhood. Our family was proud to be active members of the Heights Jewish Center in Cleveland, Ohio. We also shared a close relationship with its beloved rabbi and rebbetzin, Rabbi Doniel and Rebbetzin Shoshana Schur, z”l
My brother Micha, four years older than me, held the prestigious role of “junior gabbai.” His duties came toward the end of Shabbos morning davening, distributing three kibbudim (honors) to other children.
One lucky boy would lead the shul in “Ein Kelokeinu,” “Aleinu” and “Anim Zemiros,” a second would open the aron for “Anim Zemiros,” and a third would lead “Adon Olam.”
As children, we all thought the biggest honor was leading “Ein Kelokeinu,” “Aleinu” and “Anim Zemiros.” We couldn’t wait for our turn! Micha, fully aware of his responsibility, was fair, ensuring every boy had a chance.
After Micha became a bar mitzvah, he left for a yeshivah high school in another state. The shul needed a new junior gabbai. At just nine years old, I was entrusted with this
important role.
And then, something went wrong. Never before had I held the power to bestow honor on others—or myself. I became intoxicated with my newfound power. Lord Acton’s words rang true: “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” As the new junior gabbai, I fell into that trap.
I was fair when assigning opening the aron for “Anim Zemiros” and “Adon Olam.” But in my youthful lust for glory, I kept the crown jewel— singing “Ein Kelokeinu,” “Aleinu” and “Anim Zemiros”—for myself.
About a month into my solo performances, I sensed something was off. Rabbi Schur descended from his seat near the aron kodesh. As he approached, I remember his tallis flowing gracefully behind him.
Gently placing his hands on my shoulders, he bent down, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Akiva, I know how much you enjoy singing ‘Ein Kelokeinu,’ ‘Aleinu,’ and ‘Anim Zemiros’—but so do the other boys. It’s not fair for you to do this every single Shabbos. It’s time to share this with the other kids.”
He motioned for Danny Kraut to come up to the bimah and take over. Rabbi Schur took the tallis I had been wearing, draped it over Danny’s shoulders, and I returned to my seat beside my father.
As I sat there, the weight of my actions sank in. I wasn’t upset at Rabbi Schur—I knew he was right. I

had been selfish.
After shul, I spoke with my parents, then approached Rabbi Schur, waiting for him to finish his conversation with some of the congregants. When I had his attention, I apologized, promising to share the honors more fairly. He smiled and gave me a warm hug. I can still feel the soft hairs of his grey beard and moustache against my young face.
I faithfully served my shul as junior gabbai for about four years. Like Micha, I eventually left home for yeshivah high school. But for the remainder of my term, I distributed the kibbudim fairly and equitably, always mindful of the lesson Rabbi Schur had taught me.
More than four decades have passed since I last led my shul in “Ein Kelokeinu.” Over the years, I’ve occasionally caught myself “stealing the spotlight.” In those moments, I remembered my lesson as junior gabbai.
In my present-day shul in Memphis, I watch the enthusiastic boys complete singing “Ein Kelokeinu” together. Taking note of how nicely they share that honor with one another, I smile and think of Rabbi Doniel Schur.
Rabbi Akiva Males serves as the rabbi of Young Israel of Memphis and teaches Torah at the Cooper Yeshiva High School for Boys in Memphis, Tennessee.


