That well, jokingly referred to by Munkies as the “Be’er Miriam,” serves camp to this day

Living Higher

Last week on Erev Shabbos, the Camp Munk campus in Ferndale, New York, bustled with activity as Shabbos preparations reached a feverish pitch. Until suddenly, the water supply came to an abrupt stop, leaving hundreds of campers waiting to shower and the kitchen staff unable to continue the food prep.

Rabbis Pinny Munk, the camp director and his son Yechezkel Munk, the camp manager, sprang into action, attempting to get the water supply going again, unsuccessfully. Then Mrs. Ray Munk, the camp’s matriarch, heard about the predicament. Quietly, she took out her Tehillim and davened to the true Property Manager. After just a few minutes, the wells sprang back to life and once again, water flowed through the camp grounds, sending the relieved campers back to their showers and the kitchen crew to finish the seudah prep.

Later that night, during the Leil Shabbos seudah, Rabbi Munk explained that his mother’s natural reaction of turning to Hashem — and the immediate response — had a precedent right there in Camp Munk, almost 70 years earlier.

In the summer of 1955, Rabbi Pinchus Munk’s grandparents, Rabbi Yechiel Aryeh Munk and his rebbetzin Mrs. Martha (Miriam) Munk, had established Camp Munk for boys and purchased the current campus on Queen Mountain Road in Ferndale, New York. With just two weeks to go before the boys arrived, a local official came to inspect the campus to confirm everything was functioning. Yet after completing his inspection, the official grimly informed the Munks that the water supply wasn’t adequate; as such, he would not be able to issue the permits for the camp to open. Their dream of a Torah summer camp hung in the balance.

The Munks hired an expert to determine whether or not there was a nearby well that would be able to service the campus. The fellow searched the grounds, but to no avail: His searches ran dry.

Not ready to give up, Rabbi and Mrs. Munk asked the man to do one more round of inspections. But this time, they didn’t follow him around — they headed to their bungalow and poured out their hearts to Hashem. After two hours of intense tefillos, there was a knock at the door. The man had located a well that had yielded 75 gallons of water per minute — more than enough to supply the grounds and then some.

That well, jokingly referred to by Munkies as the “Be’er Miriam,” serves camp to this day. It set the stage for Camp Munk to flourish — and a mesorah to take root.

Grad at Last

Like most schools across the country, Yeshivas Tiferes Tzvi of Chicago holds an annual event in honor of its graduating eighth-grade class. Each year, it requests from a member of its Vaad Hachinuch to deliver words of brachah and inspiration to the graduates and large audience in attendance. When it happens that a child or grandchild of a specific Vaad member is one of the graduates, the yeshivah makes a special effort to invite that member as the event’s keynote speaker.

Three years ago, Rabbi Zev Cohen, a prominent rabbinical figure in Chicago, rav of Congregation Adas Yeshurun and respected member of the Vaad Hachinuch, had a grandson in the eighth-grade class.  Rav Cohen, who was invited to speak, delivered an impassioned and inspiring speech. His opening remarks, however, waxed nostalgic. He noted that eighth-grade graduations always awaken a stirring emotion within him as he himself, as a student in Maimonides School of Brookline, Massachusetts, had skipped eighth grade, and therefore never formally graduated. He then proceeded to share his poignant, meaningful message.

This year as well, another grandchild of Rav Cohen’s was in the graduating class, and Rav Cohen was invited to speak again.

This time, in advance of the graduation, a number of hanhalah members embarked on a somewhat mischievous mission. They made contact with the Maimonides School in Brookline and requested a copy of their diploma certificate. The name “Yisroel Zev Cohen” was elegantly inscribed at the document’s center. They then arranged for signatures replicating those of the principal at the time of Rav Cohen’s enrollment, Rabbi Moses J. Cohen, and Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, the school’s founder. Beneath these signatures, Rabbi Nosson Muller, the school’s menahel, wrote, “Gam ani mitztaref el han”l — I too join the above,” and signed his name as well.

Following Rabbi Cohen’s address, Rabbi Muller announced a special presentation. He called Rav Cohen to step forward and handed him an 8 x 11 certificate frame. Rav Cohen took it in his hands and broke into a smile, realizing the ruse and appreciating the sentiment latent within.

“It’s the first time in history that a grandfather and grandson graduated eighth grade on the same day,” Rabbi Muller commented.

And maybe within the charming gesture lay a deeply profound message. The imprint a mechanech leaves on his students never leaves, and even in Shamayim, a rebbi, principal, or morah looks down and sheps nachas.

Rabbi Zev Cohen, one of Maimonides’s most distinguished alumni, heard a whisper from his rebbeim of old.

Keep up the good work. Keep on learning, teaching, and inspiring. Keep sharing your talents with your community and with Klal Yisrael. We’re proud of you.

Signed: Rabbi Moses J. Cohen and Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik

Home Run

On opening day of the 2025 baseball season at Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia, the fans were joined by a cohort of students from the Lakewood Fellowship, a summer program run by Lakewood’s Torah Links that combines hands-on internships and Torah programming. Yet one Fellowship participant, Joshua Lallouz, wasn’t in attendance.

Several months ago, during winter break, Josh had joined the Lakewood Fellowship medical research program. When he rejoined this summer and connected with Rabbi Dr. Daniel Roth, a Lakewood retina specialist and vitreoretinal surgeon, Josh made a decision that surprised even himself: to keep Shabbos for the first time in his life. For the first time in his adult life, Saturday took on a new meaning: No studying. No MCAT prep. Just the pure kedushah of 25 hours set apart.

On the Sunday following that fateful Shabbos, the Lakewood  Fellowship participants headed out for their annual trip to the ball game, but the 25 hours that Josh had earmarked for MCAT prep had to be reallocated. And so, while his friends headed out to the ballpark, a boy who had completed his first Shabbos ever opened up the MCAT books and hunkered down for a day of studying, thanks to a Lakewood retina specialist and vitreoretinal surgeon who inspired more than dedication to medicine.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1070)