“This is the truth about cults that are abusive: It’s never all bad, especially at the beginning, and therein lies the danger”

 Is Subtle [Inbox / Issue 1049]

I was dismayed to read the letter written about the recent True Account. I, too, was pained by the story, but not for the reason the letter writer expressed. I felt pained by the circumstance that led the narrator to become an angry and even violent mother, and (presumably like many others readers) I experienced compassion for this woman who found herself meeting so many challenges in life with hopelessness and desperation. The letter writer expresses that she was waiting to see the lightbulb moment of realization, of remorse, of commitment to change. Why do you think she was in therapy?! What on earth would be the purpose of healing her past if not to give her and her family a brighter present and future? You wanted to see her berate herself for her actions? It was clearly a much more subtle process than that, and subtle is how we make organic changes that last. Change doesn’t happen by people beating themselves up and putting themselves down as abusive individuals. It happens from a place of deeply ingrained recognition that while “I have done this, this is not me, and this is not who I want to be.” That is exactly what I heard from the narrator. I didn’t sense any hint of defensiveness or ignorance of her actions toward her children. If anything, there was immense shame and disappointment, alongside great courage to introspect and share. To quote from the article: “I shared about my kids, I shared about my sister — and then I kept going…. My therapist was also a child expert. She provided me with a never-ending stream of tips and ideas to improve my relationship with my kids and encourage better behaviors.” How can you say she never takes an honest look inward and is only absorbed in herself? I’m assuming you must have skimmed that part. I hope that the harsh letter printed this week did not greatly upset the narrator. My message to her is that your story moved me, and I imagine it inspired many others to take a good hard look at their lives and start the process of change.

M.K.

In Admiration [Inbox / Issue 1049]

I read the letter in Mishpacha’s inbox accusing you of being a “perpetrator of abuse” with a sinking heart. When I read the True Account, so masterfully written by Miriam Bloch, I admired your courage in facing your inner torment and seeking healing. I can imagine that with all you have been through, your self-esteem doesn’t rate very high, and with the sensitivity that comes across in the telling of your story, you are most likely already plagued by feelings of guilt. To have all that exacerbated by the heavy criticism in last week’s letter must have felt like having poisonous arrows shot into your — barely healing — wounds. Hashem has been good to you. He sent you messengers in the form of understanding therapists who listened to your stories of how your past has affected your present reality without judgment or condemnation. They offered compassion and wisdom to guide you in healing yourself. Keep to those people, please. Don’t listen to others who call you cruel names. Your father, by the way, is also not a “monster” as the letter writer would have you believe. Perhaps he’s a child of Holocaust survivors, but whatever the case, he no doubt had his own demons to deal with and wasn’t given the opportunity to deal with them, like you have. As Miriam Adahan writes of such parents, “They did the best they could with the tools they had.” Seeing him in that light will help you in your healing more than calling him names reserved for Nazis and Hamas, yemach shemam. The letter writer felt it important that you know that the way you treated your children was “sickening to read.” I believe the fact that you chose to share those incidents, right up there alongside the events of your sister’s passing and your marital struggles, shows just how deeply painful they were to you, and how they propelled you to seek help, for your children’s sake as much as for your own. You sound like a remarkable, courageous, and sensitive woman. Your children are lucky to have you. I am no rebbe, but I have this deep certainty that they will grow up to be emotionally healthy individuals who will give you a lot of nachas, b’ezras Hashem.

T.S.

Wider Perspective [Inbox / Issue 1049]

I was deeply moved by “Shards of Healing” and the narrator’s incredible strength in breaking the cycle of abuse. It takes immense courage to confront such pain, to choose healing over bitterness, and to ensure that trauma is not passed to the next generation. Her journey is inspiring, and her resilience is truly admirable. At the same time, I couldn’t help but notice an irony woven into her narrative. Throughout the piece, she offers herself profound compassion — acknowledging that as a hurt person, she, too, inflicted pain before she was able to heal. And yet, that same compassion is absent when she speaks of her father. She casually mentions that he was the child of Holocaust survivors, almost in passing, without fully considering that this context could have contributed to his own pain and, tragically, his abusive behavior. I believe that if the author could understand her father’s abusive actions through the same lens of compassion with which she views her own healing, it could be incredibly powerful for her peace of mind. Just as she recognizes how her own hurt led to harmful behavior, extending that same understanding to her father’s background may allow her to see him not just as an abuser, but as a person who was also deeply affected by trauma. This perspective doesn’t excuse his behavior, but it could help her see him as a whole person, thus freeing herself from some of the pain that resentment may still be causing. Moreover, as someone who has found healing and access to support, I want to suggest that the narrator may also want to consider the probability that her father, a man from a generation who may not have had access to the same resources, did not have the opportunities for emotional processing that she now does. She should recognize how fortunate she is to have access to these resources, and perhaps may even feel compassion for her father, who may have been trapped in his own unresolved pain. The compassion we extend to ourselves is critical for healing, but when we are able to understand and empathize with the contexts behind the actions of those who hurt us — just as we do with our own — it can offer an even deeper sense of closure. I hope that as the author continues on her healing journey, she may find space to view her father in this light, which could provide even greater peace and healing for herself.

Name Withheld

A Lofty Example [Perspective / Issue 1049]

Once again, Rabbi Paysach Krohn has taught us all by his sterling example, this time by demonstrating how to turn a personal challenge into an opportunity for growth. Allow me to add a small footnote to his excellent, uplifting article. On the pasuk describing Sarah Imeinu’s lifetime (Bereishis 23:1), Rashi comments, “[She] was the same at 100 as she was at 20.” I once saw a vort on these words that they refer to her recital of Tehillim. Kapitel 20 contains the pasuk “Ya’ancha Hashem b’yom tzarah,” which most people recite with much more intensity than when they recite kapitel 100, “Mizmor l’sodah.” Sarah Imeinu’s greatness was that she recited kapitel 100 with the same intensity as kapitel 20. It appears from what he wrote, then, that Rabbi Krohn is following the lofty example set by the first of our Imahos.

Meir Wikler, D.S.W.

Brooklyn, NY

Moved Me to Tears [Worldview / Issue 1049]

I so much liked Getadlia Guttentag’s column last week, about an ancient olive press practically in his backyard attesting to the convergence of past and present in Eretz Yisrael, that I reread it at the Shabbos table. table. I couldn’t make it to the end because I got too emotional and started crying, so I let my wife finish it. I also wove parts of it into my Seudah Shelishit derashah.

Rabbi Jack Djmal

None of Your Business [The Current / Issue 1049]

While I enjoy how the Current always keeps us in the loop, I thought the snippet about Silicone Valley’s mega-billion dollar push for AI advancement ended on a distasteful note. It ended saying: “Keep these details in mind the next time your yeshivah launches a matching campaign and your high-tech neighbor tells you, regretfully, that he’s already donated to Hatzolah and simply can’t commit to another institution because, well, ‘It’s been a tough year.’ ” Why are we obsessed with trying to figure out how much money people make? Why is it any of our business why someone can’t donate? Why do we sound like Capital One going around asking, “What’s in your wallet?” And who are we to assume people are lying when they say they’re having a tough year? It’s completely inappropriate and totally uncalled for.

Name Withheld

Couldn’t Care Less [The Current / Issue 1049]

I was shocked and frankly, appalled, that this past week’s news section included an article about what the Gazan population feels about Trump’s plan. I couldn’t care less how they feel. I have no interest in reading that they are upset they are being forced from their homes, “their” land. It is not their land. It is ours. And to compound things — Gaza was handed to them on a silver platter in 2005. And what did they do? They elected Hamas and turned it into a hotbed of murder, from where they plotted the horrific attack on our people on October 7. Not one “civilian” attempted to help a single hostage by accepting the Israeli government’s offers of reward and helping our hostages (and themselves) go free. They laugh, cheer, and jeer in our hostages’ faces as they are finally brought out of there. I am so extremely disappointed and shocked that the Mishpacha editorial staff thought this was an appropriate and important piece to publish.

A.F.

No Spirituality Without Torah [Heavy Hearts / Issue 1049]

I am sure many readers were fascinated by the article written about the Lev Tahor cult and its downfall. However, I was a bit disappointed to see it featured on the front cover of the magazine. I can understand that it’s a captivating story, and much can be learned from it. However, I believe the magazine’s front cover should be reserved for showcasing the glory of our people, the beauty of our nation. Do we want to highlight Lev Tahor? Do we want an image of Lev Tahor extremists all over our stores and our homes? Do we want our young children asking us to explain to them what Lev Tahor is all about? We are all hopeful that this feature will teach us some valuable lessons. Many will highlight the need to follow real daas Torah. Vulnerable people need to be educated on how to differentiate between genuine rabbanim and cult leaders. Personally, I believe that Lev Tahor has, albeit inadvertently, taught us what we know from Chazal: It’s impossible to create a “pure heart” without limud haTorah. It’s impossible to tackle the yetzer hara without learning Torah. This group was established to create an extremely pious, holy, spiritual community. They prayed for hours, they fasted, and they accepted upon themselves all sorts of tikkunim, but, as has been reported in the past, they left out even a basic level of Torah learning. Ultimately, what they generated was corruption, cruelty, and even impurity.

A.F.

Dangerous Process [Heavy Hearts / Issue 1049]

Thank you for covering the Lev Tahor saga. I truly hope there is an end to the madness and that these children find the safety they deserve. There are many people asking: How in the world do they have any support? How doesn’t everyone see them for what they are? Growing up in Monsey of the early ’90s, Lev Tahor was right there in town. Shlomo Helbrans lived on Weiner Drive in a house that welcomed lots of playmates from the neighborhood. I played in their home with their daughter many, many times and in fact, it was on her hair that I learned how to make pretty cool braids. They wore shawls… sometimes. But their hair wasn’t covered at that point, and they simply walked around in braids that weren’t dissimilar to others. I visited with Shlomo Helbrans following a weird promise to my mother a”h that if she read a particular book, she would be healed. I don’t know that my mother ever believed him, but out of respect to our friends who were part of the group, we visited him. He sat behind a plexiglass like a bank teller, and passed the book through a slit. I grew up next door to the Malka family on Carlton Road. I learned how to make challah in their home, bake the best chocolate chip cookies, and we spent endless hours schmoozing each Shabbos. And yes, they certainly ate eggs and wheat and all the other foods they ban today. I ate supper there many a night! In fact, Mrs. Malka was such a warm and loving presence in my childhood that she was the very first one I told when my mother passed away. I bolted from my home to hers, banged on the door, and said “My mother was niftar,” before running off. It was she and her children who bawled right alongside me. Part of the way this cult grew is because they introduced levels of craziness as time went on. Initially, their children went to school in Monsey. Eventually, they decided that the school wasn’t frum enough. But it was slow…. As stories began to surface, eventually they were run out of town to Canada, which is where they completely isolated and went off the rails. So many of the families deeply ensnared today were drawn in when things were so much more innocent. By the time the manipulation began, they were all in. Today, they dress differently and act openly in ways that are weird. My neighbor was 15 when I last saw her, and she was not married nor in shidduchim. But the younger ones were married off at 12 or 13 in Canada. And the grandchildren are lost causes in this sphere. I was speaking with a childhood friend who also played with the Helbrans children, and we both were saying how hard it is for us to verbalize this because we look back and feel crazy. How did our parents allow this? How did we miss everything? There is so much shame in even admitting all of the above. But this is the truth about cults that are abusive: It’s never all bad, especially at the beginning, and therein lies the danger. Lev Tahor is a horror of a cult. But it’s a cult. Which means that very normal people can be cultivated well enough (like the interviewee whose daughter and son-in-law landed up there) to buy in and once they’re ensnared… the mind games and torture begin. I read the article and recognized so many of the names…. Some of the children I played ball with are sitting in prison for the most heinous of sins! It’s heartbreaking beyond belief and we can only continue to daven that these children are rescued for once and for all so they can begin the long road to healing.

Sarah Rivkah Kohn

Not on Our Coffee Tables [Heavy Hearts / Issue 1049]

Seeing the cult leaders of Lev Tahor on the cover of your magazine made my blood boil. I understand this is a serious issue that demands our attention, but Mishpacha isn’t a newspaper, it’s a weekly magazine that usually reserves the cover for noteworthy people, not resha’im who are causing extreme anguish in countless people’s lives as well as one of the greatest episodes of chillul Hashem to happen in our lifetimes. Yes, it’s important to discuss this devastating issue, but nobody wants to stare at these horrible people on their coffee tables.

Name Withheld

Feedback from Greenland [Green No Deal / Issue 1049]

Hi, Yitz,

Thanks very much for sending me the article. It’s a great read. You covered a lot of ground in this ambitious piece and gave a well-rounded snapshot of the current situation. I also appreciate your brutal honesty about your encounter with the PM (which I found pretty amazing) and your story about waiting in the cold because you mixed up the dates. I love the self-deprecating humor. It makes you into a very relatable character in the story. It’s incredible what you accomplished on such a short trip! I thought I’d point out some factual problems with the text for future reference. You wrote: “Today, most Greenlanders pay 42 percent income tax to the Danish crown, and some pay as much as 51 percent.” While it’s true that Greenlanders pay high taxes (the upper figure is for people who have to pay off debts or back taxes), they don’t pay anything to the Danish crown. All taxes here go to the Greenlandic tax authorities. Nobody pays taxes to Denmark. All the money stays in Greenland. In fact, Greenlanders are even exempt from paying sales tax on goods purchased in Denmark (which is currently a whopping 25 percent). “Until 1979, Greenlanders were forced to have Danish names, which is why anyone over 50 has a Nordic name.” When Greenlanders first began to be baptized, they often adopted patronymic names. So, if the father was Peter, they became Petersen. They also sometimes adopted the family name of the baptizing priest (like “Egede.”) But I’m not aware of any law that compelled them to have Danish names, certainly not as late as 1979, when home rule was introduced. “...[U]nder Danish law, anybody can come to Greenland and dig for whatever he wants — all that’s needed is a permit, which isn’t hard to get.” To clarify, it’s not Danish law. The exploitation of minerals, oil, and other natural resources has been entirely under Greenlandic control since 2009. And I wouldn’t say that it’s easy to get a permit. The process of acquiring a license is long and complex (requiring social impact studies, environmental impact studies, baseline studies, etc.). Also, it’s not just the Danes who frown on mining uranium. More importantly, under Múte B. Egede, the Greenlanders have introduced legislation banning any mine with a certain amount of uranium, and that’s the main stumbling block to the Kvanefjeld project. “Until 1979, Danes forced Greenlanders to speak Danish and have Danish names.” This makes it sound like Kalaallisut was in danger of dying out as a language. There were a few cases of Greenlandic children sent to Denmark who were punished for speaking their native language and eventually (tragically) forgot it. But Greenlanders in Greenland were not “forced” to learn Danish. They learned it in school, where many teachers were Danish, and they needed it if they wanted to learn a profession. But their language has always been alive and well in Greenland. “Even today, Denmark blocks foreign aid to the island and limits its trade options. The vast majority of Greenland’s exports, such as its robust halibut product, go to Denmark.” Greenland can sell its fish and seafood all over the world, even to China. I can’t think of a single instance where Denmark has dictated trade policy to the Greenlanders in recent years. Greenland’s population is unfortunately projected to decline by 11,000 people by the year 2050. And here’s an interesting update on the “real estate market” in Greenland. Just a few days ago, the government passed a new law that restricts purchases of houses and the like. Now you have to have lived here for two years before you can buy a house or get permission to use land. Or you need Danish citizenship (which all Greenlanders of course have). This makes it more difficult for foreigners to invest here. I think it’s a reaction to all the attention we’ve been getting. And here’s a missed opportunity, Yitz: You could have referred to me as the “frozen chosen” at some point in the text. I picked that painful play on words from an Israeli journalist. Keep up the good work.

Shalom,

Paul

Systemic Flaw [Double Take – Best-Laid Plans / Issue 1049]

As a night shift worker and a shvigger/bubby, I’m in a unique perspective to provide commentary on this week’s Double Take. The daughter-in-law in this scenario is a billion percent wrong in every way. A family does not work like gears. If your system is so tightly wound that any unexpected event sends you spiraling into a meltdown and gives you an uncharitable perspective on your husband and his family, it isn’t a system.

Brachi Rubin

Feeling Betrayed [20 Questions / Issue 1049]

Dear Ariella Schiller,

As a former teen who now raises and teaches teens, I’m a huge fan of your teen fiction. I find your stories refreshing, relatable, and so loveable. Rara from Bricks and Stones has been my all-time favorite from all your fictional characters to date. I therefore felt vicariously betrayed when I read the answers to your 20 Questions. Allow me to excerpt from the original story:

“And yet here I am, expected to walk away from it all, expected to leave with grace and poise and barely a ‘Rachel Ahuva was here’ scrawl. “A terrifying thought suddenly overwhelms me. What if everyone forgets about me? What if I leave, and within weeks everyone’s like, ‘Rivka Aliza who?’ ”

—Chapter 8, Bricks and Stones

Rachel Ahuva’s fear has come true when you listed one of your favorite serial characters as “Rivka Ahuva, the teenage protagonist from Bricks and Stones.” I’m curious how you can rectify matters for her, and by extension, to all teenagers (former and present), who grapple with the question of the impact they leave on their surroundings.

Please continue writing awesome fiction.

It truly enhances my oneg Shabbos!

H. Moskowitz

In Support of Moderation [Voice in the Crowd / Issue 1048]

I always enjoy reading Rabbi Besser’s comments on current events and topics for discussion. Being a fellow Canadian, I think that we have an affinity for certain topics that only a Canadian can appreciate. Rabbi Besser’s latest article hit home with me. I have distinct memories of my dear father z”l (a survivor of Auschwitz, Majdanek, and Treblinka), having a shot of Crown Royal every night at dinner, along with a piece of schmaltz herring, lovingly prepared by my dear mother (a survivor of labor camps and the Death March). My father never drank in shul, at simchahs, or at anyone’s home. There was just this much-beloved ritual of one shot every night in his own home. Money was tight and my parents lived a frugal life, but somehow there was always a bottle of Crown Royal in its blue velvet bag (which I would use afterward for my marbles). As with everything in life, moderation is the key. My father knew how to enjoy the simple pleasures in life without ever going overboard. Many a lesson can be learned from our precious ancestors. Kiddush clubs are not the way of our people. Overindulgence in alcohol is something we frowned upon and attributed to “the goyim.” Let’s not fall prey to yet another invading trend. Kiddush clubs, be banned!

Rachel Bahar

Toronto, Canada

Life on Life’s Terms [Voice in the Crowd / Issue 1048]

Thank you to Reb Yisroel Besser for expressing what an appropriate use of alcohol — a real l’chayim — looks like. I would like to drive this point home a bit further. It’s not just “moderation,” which you mention, that’s needed. It’s the entire approach and intention that needs to be looked at. As the wife of a recovering alcoholic, I’ve become familiar with some of the 12-step world. The story of the man evacuated from Shlomi brings to mind the expression “life on life’s terms.” A group of evacuees gathering together in shul every Shabbos and sharing a small l’chayim, despite all the chaos and uncertainty in their lives, is a group of men who are accepting their lot and their current situation and making the best of it. They are not (at least according to the story!) getting drunk, getting high, sleeping off the day, or doing anything to escape reality. They are staying in reality. Addiction is about the inability to accept life on life’s terms. An addict needs to find an escape. Alcohol is not actually the enemy — escaping is the problem. Discomfort comes in many forms, including difficult circumstances, social anxiety, spiritual anxiety, and feeling disconnected. Let’s learn to sit with the chaos and the discomfort and make a l’chayim to life on life’s terms.

Anonymous

P.S. For the record, in case this was unclear: A recovering alcoholic cannot even have alcohol in moderation. Any amount is dangerous and could lead to dire consequences. I’m suggesting the l’chayim be made by those who can safely consume some alcohol.

Recalculate [Guestlines / Issue 1046]

I was happy to see Mishpacha take on the issue of men whose pressured lives leave them in despair. However, I had a somewhat similar reaction to the letter writer who wondered why Yeshaya Kraus’s proposed solution ignored Torah and avodas Hashem and stuck to counseling. Mr. Kraus’s response did not address my point, so here it is. I especially took issue especially with one line from the article: “By choosing to keep following the same path and not stepping off, you’ve determined that this path is an important one, even though you’re miserable walking it.” Mr. Kraus takes it as a given that the path should stay the same — we just need to help this man figure out how to keep plugging along without negative feelings or even — perhaps! — with some measure of joy. I think it’s vital to offer the Torah perspective here (in addition to Mr. Kraus’s valuable insights). From everything I’ve learned, the miserable man is close to the mark when he questions the point of that life. If a person finds that he isn’t able to grow on the path he committed to, not able to live with simchas hachayim, is just living by rote and barely getting through each day with nothing but increasing anger and resentment, he may be stuck in a rut, but more likely, he’s on the wrong path. The derech haTorah looks nothing like that. With the proper guidance, he needs to make a change that can open doors to a path that will work for him. I appreciate Mr. Kraus’s contribution here, but it accepts the sad, tragic assumption that there is one static path for men that we all have to dutifully follow. That the only power and hope available starts and ends with that one path. Simchas hachayim is not a luxury — it’s a necessary element of avodas Hashem. The miserable man needs to find the approach in Torah that will animate his life and give him direction and meaning. Who can help him find it? Perhaps the right rav or rebbe, maybe someone in kiruv, maybe just a knowledgeable and experienced friend or relative, or even a mental health professional with proper guidance of his own. Mr. Kraus is right in his response — if this man has tried it all and gotten nothing but frustration, more inspiration to keep doing the same thing can be counterproductive. So don’t keep doing the same thing. Find your own derech! With the right guidance, there is nothing more empowering and hopeful than this.

D.G.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1050)