Mrs. Davidson always made me feel supremely comfortable, accommodated my peculiar eating habits, and talked to me about school and even politics as if I were 32 rather than 12.
A surprised friend remarked, “I didn’t know your mother was a shadchan.” She wasn’t. She just instinctively helped everyone she could in the way it was most needed – and sometimes that was a shidduch.
My father sought out truth and insisted on telling the truth even at the cost of lost accounts. He always did the right thing even if it was not popular.
Chaim (not his real name), a frum addict in recovery, told The Jewish Press that he'd probably be dead were it not for Rabbi Twerski.
He wouldn't lean back on a chair so as not to enjoy the comforts of this world.
To describe Rabbi Henkin by that singular – albeit incredible – accomplishment of advanced Torah study for women would be incomplete, to say the least.
The Jewish People and the State of Israel lost a true giant this week with the passing of Moshe “Moshko” Moskowitz Z”L, who died at the age of 96.
Last year, Goldfarb rushed down the eastern seaboard to Elmhurst Hospital in New York to assist overwhelmed staff with treating coronavirus patients.
One of my Jewish doctors explained to me that the bark of the willow tree was used as a pain reliever. This got me thinking that even an aravah can have a good influence.
For the sake of peace, we are trying to be silent, and peace is very important. But I fear that is not the way you would want us to be.
Even as close friends grappled with the temptation [to smoke], I was untroubled, having been immunized by this great teacher of our generation who doubled as a surrogate grandfather for the children of his students.
Speaking of her feelings for Israel, Irene says, ‘my heart always beats a little faster, and I experience a moment of inner joy, when I land in Lod Airport and feel the ground of Israel under me.’
There were times when I was carrying out these duties while laden with personal problems that I was able to approach him and ask for a beracha. They always worked.
Rav Dovid’s greatest joy in life was learning Torah, and he was a big masmid. Nevertheless, he also possessed a tremendous sense of responsibility for the Jewish community.
Rav Dovid smiled and asked me, “Are you comparing my father and me to the Rosh and the Tur?”
He once confided to me that the rhetoric and backlash was so intense at the time that he contemplated resigning.
As this year I am at the age my mother was when she passed away, the awareness of how both precious and precarious life is, is keener than ever.
My father’s favorite toy was his portable Hebrew typewriter. I would fall asleep each night on the living-room sofa of our one-bedroom apartment to the clickety-clack of that machine.
Your wonderful smile radiated great happiness for your ability to help, to promote, to lead the vision of clinging to the Land of Israel.
As I sit now with my book of Tehillim, my mother's words echo loudly in my head. "Pray! Use your ko'ach tefilah and pray!"
All who knew her benefited from her wisdom. In fact, her wisdom saved thousands of Jewish lives.
Not only did he respond to those who reached out to him, he proactively reached out to others in order to help, advise, cajole and simply share his rich experience with a tyro.
He did not take the easy path of avoiding any controversial topic or promoting only safe and popular stances.
I feel honored to have attended his sermons and lectures. He would weave a tapestry of ideas and words into a poetic bridging of multiple disciplines.
Rabbi Lamm was eminently approachable and made himself available to anyone who needed him.
There was no pressure, no didactics, just a Zeida who was available to share his passion for learning – if we wished.
Rabbi Lamm was prepared, indeed proud, to be an “intellectual diplomat” who sought to make peace between competing ideas.
He was among the first in America to have special tefillot for Israel’s Independence Day, but he was simultaneously least inclined to word these prayer along the lines of the arrival of the redemption or the heralding of the messianic era.
Faiga Korenblit, who passed away last month at the age of 96, could not actually be described as a “survivor,” but rather a “thriver.”