"If you’re not grown up enough to be able to take the year seriously while still enjoying yourself, please, don’t come"

Greatness in the Mundane [Choose Joy / Issue 777]

As a former talmid of the Yeshiva of Philadelphia, I wanted to share a personal story that offers a glimpse into the brilliance and greatness of Rebbetzin Kamenetsky a”h.

In 2015, I had the privilege of spending numerous Shabbosim at the Yeshiva of Philadelphia residing as a guest at the home of Rav Yaakov Moshe Willner shlita, the current menahel and tenth-grade rebbi.

On one occasion, while I was dating my wife, I was invited to join the Rosh Yeshivah and his Rebbetzin for the Shabbos day seudah. I was greeted warmly by each of them, then took the opportunity to spend this quality time discussing my future relationship (while enjoying the Rebbetzin’s juice and delicious healthy desserts she was known for).

Upon being escorted to the door, I turned to the Rosh Yeshivah and Rebbetzin to thank them for their hospitality and impulsively decided to ask the following: “My future wife and I share the same Hebrew birthday, the 22nd of Adar. Is there any special significance to sharing the same birthday as a symbol of a zivug?”

Expecting the Rosh Yeshivah to quote some deep kabbalistic source, instead I heard the Rebbetzin’s voice: “It means you will never forget her birthday.”

Sometimes, when we look for deep meaning and lessons in life, we overlook the simple.

The Rebbetzin’s brilliance lay not only in her depth and rich understanding of Torah values but in her ability to appreciate and see what we tend to undervalue as mundane and basic. But the obvious is not always so obvious.

As talmidim of the yeshivah, we will always be grateful and appreciative to the Rebbetzin a”h. All that we’ve learned and grown in Torah was with her support. May the Rebbetzin be a meilitz yosher for the family, talmidim, and Klal Yisrael to bring the Geulah.

Ariel Brenner

Please Don’t Come [Inbox / Issue 777]

I’ve been following the seminary discussion over the past few weeks, hoping that someone else would write this letter. But no one did, so here I am. I know I’m going to get backlash, but it has to be said.

When I read the Words Unspoken written by the principal, I knew exactly which issue she was talking about. The girls she was referring to were not the sincere, erlich girls who aren’t straight-A students. I know this for a fact, because I have lots of friends who were not “academic,” yet they got into the top-name seminaries (you know which ones I’m talking about) because they clearly wanted to go to seminary for all the right reasons.

This principal was referring to some (not most) of the girls I met in the regular, mainstream Bais Yaakov seminary I went to. The ones who were up past 3 a.m. every night (and by extension, so was I, due to the noise they created) and whom I begged and pleaded to please, please just whisper; the ones who, if they weren’t sleeping in class, were making a ruckus because they were bored, overtired, or soooo not interested; and the ones who were flat-out chutzpahdig to teachers and staff.

Many of these girls blatantly broke the rules because they felt that the seminary was “breathing down our necks.” They made nicknames for our teachers and felt no shame in mocking them when they enforced the rules or imposed new ones or just plain didn’t like what they said. These girls just weren’t interested. They wanted trips, food, the “experience,” and the name to put on their résumé. Sure, they studied and did their work, but it was accompanied by loud complaints.

Here’s what most girls don’t realize: seminary is school. It’s a full day of classes. I didn’t know this before I went. When I landed, girls were talking about buying school supplies, and I wondered why. I found out when I got my schedule: all-day class.

So, to everyone out there getting ready for interviews, please take note. You are going to school. “Academic” means studying, homework, reports that require hours of work, and taking notes in class. This doesn’t mean it’s not an experience. It is. All the other “seminary stuff” like trips and Shabbosim and chavayahs and inspiration happen along with that. But the main structure of your day is class time. So if your idea of seminary only includes traveling, food, partying all night, and constant fun, listen to what this principal said, and go to a traveling camp instead.

Please don’t come to seminary and keep girls like me, who actually want to go to class, up all night with 2 a.m. water fights and loud “study sessions.” Please don’t come to disturb the incredible classes taught by choshuve rebbeim and teachers who sacrifice a lot to be teaching us. Please don’t come to make leitzanus out of my teachers, principal, and eim bayis. And please don’t come to ruin the seminary experience for the girls who actually want to be there.

I believe these girls have good in them. I believe they will mature at some point (many of them are married; I certainly hope they’re not keeping their families up all night the way they did me). But it has to be said — if you’re not grown up enough to be able to take the year seriously while still enjoying yourself, please, don’t come.

Name Withheld

What Is Our Goal? [Inbox / Issue 777]

I have carefully read the exchange about seminaries. I’ve also been following the tremendous crisis we’re facing in our inability to staff our Kodesh classrooms with the finest and the brightest of our Bais Yaakov graduates. And for years, I’ve felt frustrated by the attitude of many high schools, claiming that they would never put so much focus on their students’ prowess in text, mefarshim, and the much-maligned Ramban — “but what can we do? The seminaries demand.”

We cannot pretend that all the seminaries are educating the next generation of teachers; the numbers simply don’t support this position. Due to limited capacity at the Krakow teachers’ seminary, Sarah Schenirer was sadly compelled to turn away students she felt would not be able to pioneer Bais Yaakov schools across Eastern Europe and beyond. I hardly think this is true of most of our seminaries today.

With perhaps little exception, ours is to educate the next generation of mothers in Klal Yisrael. And the mission facing our girls is formidable. They must combat the very real and insidious threats of technology, complacency, and mediocrity. They will need depth, creativity, and clarity. They will need determination and pride. They will not need to be alef students. They will not need to be perfect. They will need to know that to fall is human; to rise, Divine.

My sister and I had the privilege of meeting Pearl Benisch in her last years. She shared what she described as the most difficult challenge she ever faced — this from a woman who survived Krakow, Plashow, Auschwitz and the Death March. She spoke of the years in which Bais Yaakov was an after-school program, Polish education being compulsory. The school she attended was housed in an impressive building, fronted by a majestic stairway. Every single day, she and her friends were accosted by Polish boys, vying for their attention. In her words: “You are so nice, you are so pretty, come out with us.” Shuvi, shuvi Hashulamis, shuvi, shuvi v’nechezeh bach.

We asked Mrs. Benisch how she passed that test. She answered simply, “that was Sarah Schenirer.” Determined to understand the secret, we pressed her to explain. “She taught us to know what we possess… Every bas Yisrael is a blazing light. It’s our job to shine and polish the lamp, so the light can shine forth.”

I believe it’s time for each of us, in our own homes, in our mosdos, in our seminaries, to focus inward. Are we filling the void in a generation of superficiality? Are we living, demonstrating, and educating a rich, deep, fulfilling and relevant Yiddishkeit? Are we uncovering the delight in Chayei Torah?

For the last 24 years, it has been my zechus to work for my father, Rabbi Hillel Belsky, whose clarity and vision shape our daily chinuch mission at Ateres. I truly believe our students need a real relationship with our kisvei kodesh, with the encoded language of Tanach, the rich, kedushah-saturated language of Tefillah. I simply don’t believe that gift is reserved only for our alef students. In crafting the curriculum for Ateres, I endeavor to reach our students where they are, heart, mind and soul, today.

Although the perfectly motivated and perfectly credentialed alef student is a trophy, a jewel in the crown of any seminary, will not the mark of our actual chinuch be in the way we reach the student who feels that despite her straight As, she is untouched inside, the one whose strengths lie in areas other than textual, the one who is exhausted by her high school’s focus on academics? Will our hatzlachah not be measured by the extent to which we imbue our talmidos with the gift of knowing what they truly possess?

We need the courage to send our children to the mosdos most suited to them. If you do not agree with the mission statement of a seminary, why are you begging your way in? If you have to break your head to get a seminary to consider your daughter worthy, do you think that seminary will give her the love and appreciation she needs once she is reluctantly accepted? If you feel the seminary lacks the resources or the skills to help your daughter, why is that your address? If you feel she was disrespected at an interview, how can that be a seminary for your daughter?

My very wise mother-in-law a”h once told me, “Go where you’re wanted.” I admit to struggling with her advice at the time. In the final analysis, it was pure distilled chochmas nashim.

Tamar Sokol

Ateres Bnos Yerushalayim

The Biggest Insurance Mistake [A Better You / Issue 776]

I am writing in response to the article by Sara Glaz, “The Biggest Financial Mistake.” Delaying getting life insurance can, indeed, be a big financial mistake.

My siblings, friends and I are in our 60s and have had life insurance policies since we were in our 20s and 30s. Our insurance agents (we don’t have the same ones) have been successfully selling us whole life insurance for years claiming, as Ms. Glaz does, that the premiums for whole life policies only need to be paid for X-amount of years. They also claim (which Ms. Glaz does not mention) that the cash value that builds up in whole life policies is “your” money and can be used for vacations or wedding expenses and the like.

Both of these claims are false, because the agents fail to mention that under certain circumstances (which is what happened to so many of us when the interest rates drastically dropped years ago), the policy could not be sustained without continued payment of the premiums (which are quite high, as Ms. Glaz states), so these whole life policy premiums need to be paid for our whole life.

They also fail to mention that the cash value that accumulates reverts to the insurance company upon death of the policyholder. The beneficiaries do not get the cash — they only get the proceeds or face amount of the life insurance, which does not include the cash accumulated, and which could be $100,000 or more if the premiums have been paid for many years. The agents also don’t talk about the fact that when you take a loan against the cash value that has accumulated in your policy (to pay for vacations or wedding expenses and the like), the loan must be paid back at high interest rates (8%), and if the loan is not paid back before the insured dies, the beneficiaries only get the amount of the policy, minus the outstanding loan.

This is what the financial advisors I’ve spoken to recommend: For life insurance, buy term. If you are looking for an investment, invest the huge difference in premiums in a “real” investment — whether in real estate or simply in the S&P 500s and Dow Jones Indexed Funds (EFTs), which, at this time, they consider the best long-term investment.

The biggest mistake is listening to insurance agents who sell whole life insurance as an investment.

Gladys

Sara Glaz responds:

Thanks for taking the time to share your experience with the readers.

Whole life insurance is not as simple as what agents make it seem and the “dangers” are not always readily explained by the agents who sell these policies, which is a shame. If I could have spelled out the dangers of whole life, I would have, but my intention was just to give the readership a very simplistic definition.

Term life insurance is the way to go for most people, but not all. A qualified and honest financial planner will be able to tell someone when whole life might be more beneficial than term life. Further, my statement that “whole life allows you to stop paying premiums eventually” is not false. However, there are circumstances (like yours) in which the premiums that were initially illustrated were based on a certain (non-guaranteed) dividend, and when the dividend began to drop, the policyowner was stuck paying premiums for longer than anticipated.

In order to avoid this, I asked Chris Daly of Daly Brokerage what a consumer can do. He offered great advice: Before buying whole life, ask the agent to “stress test” the policy — if the illustration is run assuming a 5.8% dividend, see what happens when the dividend is dropped to 4.8% and 3.8%. This will allow you to see a more realistic picture of your policy.

From the Shadchan’s Call Log [Sidekick / Issue 776]

Ha! You literally had me laughing out loud with your Sidekick column about the shadchan who is hard to reach. Mostly because I am that shadchan.

I’d like to present the other side of the story:

6:30 p.m. — Missed call from number I don’t recognize. I’m in the middle of bedtime.

6:40 p.m. — Missed call from same number.  Still in the middle of bedtime.

6:45 p.m. — Still in the middle of bedtime. This must be an emergency.

Boy: Hi, Rebbetzin, I heard you’re a shadchan...

Me: No need to call me Rebbetzin. Yes, I am a shadchan. Can I call you back in about an hour? I’m just in the middle of something .

7:44 p.m. — Same number. Almost done with bedtime but the ringer wakes my kid.

Boy: Hi, Rebbetzin, I think you said I should call back in about an hour.

Me: No, I said I would call you back. How about I call you after 9 tonight?

9:02 p.m. — Same number.

Boy: Hi, Rebbetzin—

Me: You don’t need to call me Rebbetzin.

Boy: I’d like to tell you what I’m looking for.

Me: Great, so let’s meet in person. Can you call me in the morning and we will make a time?

9:20 p.m.: Phone rings. It’s a different number.... hmmm....

Boy: Hi, Rebbetzin, sorry, my phone died before, but I wanted to ask you, before we meet, if you know girls for me.

Me: Well, I don’t know, I haven’t met you yet. Let’s speak tomorrow when I know better what my schedule is this week.

11:30 p.m.: Phone rings. I’m thinking of blocking this number, at least till tomorrow.

Me: Hello?

Boy: Rebbetzin, I was thinking maybe I could tell you a little of what I’m looking for and you could tell me if you’ve got any girls like that.

Two days later

Me: Hi, I didn’t hear from you yesterday, do you want to meet?

Boy: I’m busy.

The Shadchan Who Plays Hard-to-Get

An Impossible Relationship [Your Mother-in-Law Is Not a Narcissist / Issue 775]

As a daughter of a borderline mother, I was disappointed to see your article stressing the importance of maintaining a relationship with the problematic parents, making it seem like it’s mostly feasible. That was not my experience.

I tried maintaining a relationship with her at all costs; I knew the importance of kibbud av v’eim. And I was scared to death to let go of my relationship for a few reasons. (Turns out I had what to be afraid of.) But then she would do what you described as “creating a scene,” and create drama, sucking me into an emotional whirlpool, which only ended when she let herself be pacified by me. Until the next time.

And there was no me those days. I was only her daughter — not a wife, not a mother. I was a wreck, wondering: Will she give me the silent treatment for weeks until I beg forgiveness? (She’s done that plenty.) Will she scream at me and shame me? (She’s done that too.) Will I get a nasty email? (I can forward you a copy…)     Pleasing her at all costs meant violating the boundaries that were necessary for my fledgling family. Does this sound to you like a mindset conducive to raising kids? To developing a marriage?

That’s why I was so surprised to see the article mostly centering on the ideal of making the relationship work, with only two lines dedicated to a small minority for whom this wreaks emotional havoc. How can the relationship not wreak emotional havoc on these women? How are they not continually triggered by their mothers’ continued abusive behaviors?

It’s almost impossible to be a healthy human being without setting up very firm boundaries — and these mothers do not like boundaries. The minute you are not completely under them, they’ll “punish” you. I was literally thrown out of a family simchah because I dared to exchange glances with my sister when she was having a tirade. And I said, Okay, I’m done. I’d already had a psak for almost a year that I was allowed to limit my interactions with her before I actually took the step.

I think that having a relationship with an extremely unhealthy parent comes less from desire to do the mitzvah and more from the mentality they cultivate that you need them for survival. There’s also society’s peer pressure. We are a community that is very family-based, baruch Hashem. I wish happiness and harmony for every Yiddish family. But being alone is, well, lonely. It’s a huge sacrifice — and it’s one people make when there’s absolutely no other choice.

As soon as I broke ties, I had the space to truly develop my own way of thinking. I needed distance to see our relationship for what it was. And all of a sudden, I was able to really be there for my husband. I was in awe at the beauty of marriage; it was like someone had taken off my blindfold. I would never have been able to achieve this without taking a break from our relationship. And it was all centered around halachah. (There is a very explicit gemara about adult children of problematic parents.)

Maybe one day I’ll be able to have a relationship with my mother that doesn’t hurt me. But I’ll need to be rock solid by then, and I don’t see how anybody can achieve that without taking some time out for healing, growth, and inner building.

I’m taking it one day at a time as I continue on my healing path, with therapy, a rav, and the support of my husband. And most of all, with Hashem, showing me the way and supporting me as I strive to end the cycle of abuse and build a truly happy Yiddishe home, the way He wants it to be.

Mindy

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 778)