As Purim approaches, the question on everyone’s mind is the same: What are you dressing up as this year? At Amudim, we deal with people who wear costumes every single day of the year—not for fun, not for Purim, but to hide the truth about who they really are.
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As I was leaving 770, a young man approached me. His face was unfamiliar, but his words stopped me in my tracks. “Excuse me,” he said hesitantly. “Are you who I think you are?”
As we approach Purim, I feel compelled to reach out regarding a matter that weighs heavily on my heart. This year marks the 18th yahrzeit of my father, Gedaliah Yirachmiel Ben Michel, which falls on the 17th of Adar. In his memory, I would like to emphasize the crucial importance of safety during this joyous celebration.
I would like to share a – relatively – unknown story that brings out the deep hiskashrus that the Rashag had for the Rebbe. This story I heard from my dear father who personally witnessed the event and was the only Lubavitcher present – other than the Rashag – at the event.
A fellow Bochur mentioned to his friend that it was time for him to get a smartphone with WhatsApp to prepare for camp. This struck a nerve because it highlights a larger problem: the assumption that having a smartphone is a necessity for Madrichim.
This past Isru Chag I went to 770 to daven shacharis. Since the shul is full of foreigners for Tishrei I made the obvious decision to daven in the tent, but little did I know this decision would haunt me for months.
Many “empty nesters” think they are done with Chinuch and have fulfilled all of their responsibilities once their children have completed their education. In addition there are those who lament the decline in the religious standards of the younger generation while sitting on their hands and not doing anything about it.
It’s a zechus for us to live in Crown Heights and to play a role in hosting so many visitors. But as the influx of guests continues to grow, it’s important to reflect on the realities of hachnosas orchim and how we can ensure this mitzvah is approached with sensitivity, mutual respect, and appreciation.
There are too many stories and young couples putting their energy and life into communities and then things fall apart (for various reasons) and they are forced to leave. There must be awareness of some of the pitfalls that have caused the breakdown of these relationships, so that it can be prevented in the future.
Some questions are destructive. They aren’t worth asking. Just entertaining them, giving them a foothold in the recesses of your brain can let them fester. One of those questions is: Is there anything better out there?
In Crown Heights, street parking is a precious commodity. Local residents and small business owners, particularly along Kingston Avenue, rely on these spaces for daily use, whether it’s for their personal vehicles or customer access. So, when car rental companies use public street parking for their fleets, it raises eyebrows and frustrations.
I feel very alone. The phone rings, well mostly emails constantly, asking for money. I can’t afford to pay mortgage and food and my goodness everything else, let alone tuition and daycare, bookees, etc. Nevermind, shoes and coats. Forget about travel.
This article is for every teacher, therapist, coach, and anyone in our community who has believed in a child like mine. Your unwavering support is the reason my son thrives in his learning.
When I shared with people that I was going, I got mixed responses for my friends. Some were excited while others felt that going to Kazakhstan – or going to any of the “Kevarim trips” to Rabboseinu Nesieinu – was “against Hiskashrus” to our Rebbe.
That’s right — I lost a deal worth $70,000. Not because I uncovered some scandalous activity, nor because it was replaced by a sudden windfall. No, I simply lost it. After three weeks of hard work, the deal came down to the wire, and forces beyond my control caused it to fall through.
It is time that our community leaders take our safety seriously. We should not have to feel the need to look over our shoulders, worry that we are on our own when we are in danger, or carry some kind of personal safety device with us at all times.
Picture this: Friday night, as campers gather around tables, voices ring out, criticizing the food served with disdain, while devouring home-cooked or store-bought delights—kugel, cake, schnitzel—the very fare they spurn in camp. And amidst them sits Mendel, perhaps quieter than the rest, his parents unable to make the pilgrimage upstate, either due to financial constraints or because they live out of sate or on shlichus.
