In the Arms of Rabi Shimon
The house smells of olive oil and smoke; scents of Chanukah that make me nostalgic for the childhood I’m in middle of. “I absolutely love Chanukah,” I announce to no one in particular from my office chair in the dining room. Aharon smiles as he strolls by, on the phone with his chavrusa in Eretz
Mishpacha Contributors
In the Arms of Rabi Shimon
We’re holding on, Tatteh. Listen to the hespedim, listen to the anguished voices as they praise You
Yisroel Besser