“If you’re going to take on a chesed girl, know that the chesed will go both ways”

Want to Trade Places? [Inbox / 1039]

To the letter writer who suggested publicly thanking those who pay full tuition:

I also have a suggestion. How about publicly thanking those who work multiple jobs day and night, living without anything but the bare necessities, who don’t take any vacations, barely buy any new clothing for their children, make sheitels last ten years, and pay as much tuition as they possibly can? Especially when those people are the same ones educating your children and looking at a future with no pension, no retirement savings, and no safety net after having spent their entire working lives giving your children the chinuch and skill sets they need to survive… How about thanking them publicly?

Do you know what it’s like to never, not once, take your children anywhere beyond the local attractions during all of winter vacation or summer vacation? Do you know what it’s like to decide between sending your child to camp and affording braces? Do you know what it’s like to live entirely within your budget and not do necessary repairs in your house until it’s impossible to wait? Do you know what it’s like to give every penny you have to pay the partial tuition that you struggle to pay?

Perhaps try to publicly thank people like me as well… even though we only pay partial tuition.

And if you’re fortunate enough to live in Lawrence, New York, and pay full tuition, count your blessings, and don’t begrudge my family when we need to ask for a tuition break. We’d much rather be in your position.

And yes, our children’s grandparents are already using up a great deal of the funds they’ve put away for their old age to pay for our children’s tuition. Let us know what more you’d like us to do.

A Reader

Another Man’s Opinion [Guestlines / Issue 1039]

Rav Avrohom Neuberger is a talmid chacham who has written amazing seforim. I feel small disagreeing with something he wrote last week but here’s a thought.

There have indeed been many popular songs from masorati singers that have entered our yeshivah/frum culture over the past ten years or so. Rav Neuberger mentioned one more recent example, and I’ll mention three more among many: “Mi Shema’amin Lo Mefached,” “Modeh Ani Kol Boker,” and “Melech Malchei Hamelachim.” Those three are even more popular than the “Bein Kodesh L’Chol” Rav Neuberger mentioned.

Here’s my take. These singers are not masorati as a shitah, (as if someone might be a Reform or Conservative Jew as a shitah — very few are). Rather, they are singers who grew up secular but have now embraced many aspects of Torah and Yiddishkeit, and have started to sing songs of emunah and desiring closeness with Hashem. Should we not admire, respect, and even embrace them?

I highly doubt that our kids will start questioning or become less frum due to these singers feeling comfortable with frum singers, composing religious-themed songs, and singing to frum crowds as a side accompaniment at concerts of major frum singers. Actually, it might inspire many of our kids to see that many secular Israeli singers have started to sing about Hashem and emunah. Perhaps they’re starting on a path similar to Uri Zohar’s.

As the Kotzker said, closeness to Hashem is not always measured by how high on the ladder a person is but on whether he is climbing up or heading down. These masorati singers are climbing up.

Even the song mentioned by Rav Neuberger seems to describe spiritual struggles which we all encounter on our own individual levels, and the singer is saying he is determined to keep pushing to get closer to kodesh.

Another man’s opinion.

Boruch Leff

There’s a Will and No Way [Voice in the Crowd / Issue 1039]

To the Editor:

Thank you, thank you to Yisroel Besser for his column regarding “bubble-izing” and tuition committees. I vividly remember a tuition committee meeting where this took place. My husband and I sat rocking our newborn in the stroller while trying to get tuition assistance for our two older children. Our second child was entering school, and we really didn’t have money to pay for both tuitions.

We were living paycheck to paycheck, renting an apartment, and had no savings. We’d taken out a small loan to help us with the oldest child’s tuition the prior year. In the ninth month of my pregnancy, I’d sat uncomfortably for hours and printed all of the required bank statements and documents, which all corroborated what we were telling them. I actually remember that we needed a new printer cartridge in the middle of printing, which was an unexpected expense.

At the meeting, we sat in front of two wealthy men from the community, who gave us a number that we simply didn’t have. I told them it wasn’t feasible for us. I remember what one of them said: “It is — it might be hard but you can do it.” I remember thinking just what Rabbi Besser wrote in his column — it might be hard but possible for you, the wealthy man in front of me. But it’s actually not possible for us, certainly not in the short term.

The way we were able to pay in the end is only because my father used some savings to help us out after I told him that we’d probably be withdrawing the kids. I hadn’t intended to ask him; I was simply sharing my frustration with him.

Looking back, I wish the tuition committee members, who as Rabbi Besser points out do give of their time to be there, had given us some concrete financial advice. Why not tell me how to invest? Help us with some new connections in my husband’s field? Help us get a loan for a down payment so we could gain some equity? Give me an at-home job to help the school out? Perhaps this is a way forward for some schools who do not want to change their committee members.

Anonymous

Lakewood, NJ

Outdated Stereotype [Face the Music / Issue 1039]

I just wanted to point out that the father (Yaakov), who was portrayed in the story shouting at his daughter for breaking Shabbos, in no way portrays the typical baalei teshuvah of today. I am frum from birth and blessed to have baal teshuvah friends. They are all exceedingly aware people, incredible parents, and chinuch experts, too. I think that stereotype is very outdated, if it ever existed at all.

C.I.

Laughing in My Basement [Inbox / Issue 1037]

I was surprised to see the letter criticizing the Kichels strip in which Chaykie cries to her husband that she doesn’t speak to anyone over the age of four other than her employer and she wishes she could have an intelligent conversation (or even an unintelligent one). The letter writer would have preferred if the strip ended with the “perfect” new neighbor crying at the end rather than Chaykie.

I thought that this was one of the funniest Kichels ever because it was so relatable to me as a married with young kids. I showed it to my husband (who is not as avid a Kichel fan as I am), and he actually laughed out loud when he read it. “This sounds exactly like you: ‘I hate this dumb basement apartment!’ ” The fact that the strip doesn’t have a happily-ever-after ending makes it even funnier. (Sorry, Chaykie, hang in there….)

Thank you to Chani Judowitz and Bracha Stein for continuing to capture the humor in daily frum life. After a long week of diapers and washing dishes, I look forward to opening my Mishpacha and turning straight to the last page.

A Fellow Basement Dweller

Grateful for the Clarity [Guestlines / Issue 1037]

I wanted to thank Rabbi Kerzner for his article “Chesed Starts at Home.” Lately I’ve been wanting to invite Shabbos guests that are not typical in our circles: the disadvantaged, unaffiliated, etc. My 11-year-old son feels very strongly against it; he’s very uncomfortable with the idea and wants Shabbos to be family time. As I was preparing for Shabbos, I was wondering who I should ask for advice regarding this issue. Then I opened the article and got my answers! I read it at the Shabbos table and my son was very relieved!

Name Withheld

You’re Not Alone [Everyone’s Nightmare / Issue 1037]

I was heartbroken to read the accounts of the families of the hostages who feel abandoned and forgotten by the world. I want these families to know: They do not need to remind me of their pain. I am not at peace, and my heart won’t be whole again as long as our brothers and sisters remain trapped in the darkness.

I’m part of what you’d call an ultra-chassidic community in New York, which to some might seem distant or disconnected. But the truth is that we’re all one nation and your pain is my pain. Though our lives and backgrounds may seem different, the plight of the hostages and their families is very close to my heart, and I haven’t been the same person since October 7.

As a mother myself, I connect deeply with those of you living the worst nightmare of not knowing the whereabouts of your children. Every morning, as I prepare my children’s breakfast, spreading the lush green avocado on soft white bread, I pray to Hashem that every parent should be able to protect and nurture their children. Every evening, when I kiss my children goodnight after a warm bath, I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of grief.

The stark difference between my life and the nightmare you live is unbearable. I beg Hashem with all my strength: May this night be the night that brings salvation for all the parents, so they, too, may tuck their children in and kiss them goodnight.

Through every joy and pain that life brings, the hostages remain at the core of my heart, and my heart will never be whole until they are safe and sound in the arms of their loved ones.

In the meantime, my family and I have started learning two halachos at our Shabbos seudah each week as a zechus for the hostages. It doesn’t feel like nearly enough, but it’s our way of reaching out and offering what we can in the face of such unspeakable pain.

I want to end off by saying that when the day comes and we greet Mashiach, I hope to have the merit to be among those marching right behind you. May we soon merit our final and ultimate Geulah.

G.B.

Shout-out to Sem Girls [Helping Hand / Double Take — Issue 1037]

I just wanted to clarify that you seminary girls are the best!! Living in Yerushalayim with my family far away, I feel very grateful to have gotten to know some amazing seminary girls over the years, who devotedly come each Thursday to help me out with my kids and kitchen. I appreciate the huge help immensely!

Shout-out to Goldy, Malky, Shani, and Leah!

Dini

Yerushalayim

Chesed Is for the Girl [Helping Hand / Double Take — Issue 1037]

I’m always amazed at Rochel Samet’s talent, and in particular, her ability to realistically narrate situations that evoke such powerful replies. You’d think they were real!

The story about the young mother and the chesed girl was no exception — she so masterfully and accurately portrayed the challenges of raising young kids while working long hours, especially in Israel, so far from close family. Her description of the seminary girl was also spot-on, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the innocence, as well as the occasional cluelessness.

But one piece really struck me, and that was Tzirel’s and Aviva’s (and their friends’) romanticizing of what it means to have a chesed girl. In real life, women do this too, but it’s misplaced.

I’ve been living in Israel for 18 years and before that, I was a seminary chesed girl myself. The truth is that chesed in seminary is more about how it develops the girl than about what it does for the host family. This is not a bug but a deliberate feature of the system.

Girls come to seminary to “grow,” which is a vague term for mature, expand their purview of abilities and knowledge, and stretch their self-definition. While most of the time, this is accomplished by means of Torah classes, learning from teachers as role models, and dorm-room challenges, for a small portion of their week it happens through exposure to a native family where they can be immersed in a different culture and have household responsibilities.

Perhaps seminary girls of yesteryear went to Israeli families with ten kids and two bedrooms, but that’s no longer the case today, most of the time. The schools know what their students can and cannot handle, and when they arrive, most girls aren’t up to that. Some are, but they’re the exception. Seminaries will shy away from sending their students to any family who sounds “desperate for help” because they know this isn’t the right address for that. Girls today need a safe, comfortable, welcoming environment. They need a family that can manage when they cancel due to trips, appointments, and illness, and one that isn’t absolutely relying on them to be as responsible and present as an actual mother of three.

Anyone who thinks having a chesed girl means getting the equivalent of a free cleaning lady or babysitter will be sorely disappointed. In reality, it can be a beautiful two-way relationship that is both helpful to the family and a learning experience for the student. So if you’re going to take on a chesed girl, know that the chesed will go both ways.

A Seminary Teacher in Israel

We Need More Mussar [The Ring of Healing / Issue 1033]

Please convey my heartfelt thank you to Rabbi Lopiansky for his brilliant article entitled “The Little Teivah and the Foolish Shepherd.” It was so important, so on point, so articulate and so necessary for us to hear. I wish it could be reprinted every week — we need more compassionate and loving mussar to really hold us together as a holy nation. While we may disagree with each other, we certainly love and care for one another.

Name Withheld

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1040)