“What is the answer for all of us who are just not making enough money? Is a frum lifestyle only for the rich and successful?”

Come Home [Counterpoint / Issue 1093]

I’d like to add two points to the ongoing discussion about spending in our communities.

1. I understand I may be oversimplifying things, but why can’t everyone just spend what they can afford?

Takanah weddings have become stunning. Why can’t the “lower middle class” make takanah weddings, the higher middle-class make nicer weddings, and the wealthy ten percent make fancy weddings? Why do we care so much…?

Personally, I haven’t made bar mitzvahs or weddings yet, but so far, for my own kids’ brissim and upsherens, we made mechubad but simple events — and spent what we could afford. Yes, I know some people have made fancier ones… but what does that have to do with me?

2. Consider moving to Eretz Yisrael. (Please, hear me out!) Of course, this kind of move encompasses so much more than finances, but it would solve many of the challenges spoken about in the article. I’m not a proponent of, “everyone make aliyah this second.” That doesn’t make sense to me. But I think every family should make an annual cheshbon hanefesh to evaluate: Could it work this year? Could my job now be done remotely? Are my kids still young enough? Are my kids now old enough?

For people who are concerned that the chinuch differences are too great, I ask: Do you know how many schools and yeshivahs have been opened in just Beit Shemesh in the last five years alone? A lot.

I’ll remind everyone that tuition is close to free here. While all those gashmiyus issues won’t completely disappear, they will significantly decrease. And that’s without discussing the mitzvah of living here and all the ruchniyus benefits that come with it.

I’m not telling you to move here — just to take a pause and think about it for real. Not just as a theoretical, “one day maybe….”

Levana Pollak

Ramat Beit Shemesh (originally Toronto, ON)

There’s An Alternative [Counterpoint / Issue 1093]

The recent Mishpacha article addressing the affordability challenges facing the Jewish community resonated deeply with my personal observations. While I have maintained connections to two of the largest Jewish communities in America throughout my life, moving to the Lake Magdalene area of Tampa, Florida has provided me with a unique outsider’s perspective on these critical issues.

Upon frequent visits to these communities, I’ve witnessed dramatic increases in living costs, from grocery prices to the amenities offered at local establishments. While your article appropriately identified the societal pressures driving these costs, I believe there is an equally pressing issue: Young couples with growing families are increasingly unable to move out of cramped basement apartments into even modest homes of their own.

I’d like to offer a viable alternative grounded in concrete experience.

The Jewish community in the Lake Magdalene area of Tampa, established just four years ago, was founded on a deliberate mission by kollel families to create an environment that prioritizes both affordability and spiritual development. Our community’s central location — less than twenty minutes from the airport and downtown business centers — makes it both accessible and economically viable. Over these four years, we have built a Torah academy, a high school, and a shul, with growth informed entirely by Torah values and practical affordability principles.

Our housing market reflects this commitment. Properties range from three-bedroom townhomes at $250,000 to single-family homes of 1,800 square feet in the mid-$400,000s, with larger homes available in the $500,000s — all reflecting meaningful variation to accommodate families at different life stages.

More significantly, the philosophical foundation of our community actively resists status-based spending patterns. Our kiddush is intentionally modest yet meaningful. Community events, such as Avos U’Banim, emphasize Torah engagement over elaborate refreshments. These are not sacrifices; rather, they reflect a deliberate communal value system that distinguishes our environment from the consumption-driven dynamics of larger urban centers.

As the only shul in our neighborhood, we have the distinct ability to establish standards intentionally — standards that naturally cascade into family expectations and broader community culture. We have created a special makom where families committed to Torah living can do so without the relentless pressure to maintain appearances or status through spending.

While I acknowledge that relocation to an expanding community is not suitable for everyone, and while this solution alone does not address all the systemic issues your article raised, it does offer a tangible pathway for families seeking relief from the affordability crisis. For couples struggling with housing constraints, families desiring to raise children within a Torah framework without external financial pressures, and individuals motivated by the opportunity to build and grow a Jewish community, such options exist and merit serious consideration.

Rabbi Y. Rubenstein

Tampa, Florida

Mapping Out the Causes [Counterpoint / Issue 1093]

Thank you for bringing additional awareness to this critically important topic, which affects virtually every family in our communities on some level.

I agree with much of what was written. At the same time, I believe there are several significant factors that were either underemphasized or missing from the conversation and addressing them is important if we hope to change the culture.

The role of social media. When we say, “social media,” we often think of Instagram, TikTok, or X. But in our community, the far more pervasive influences are WhatsApp groups, statuses, family or friends group texts, and shared Google albums. Many are exposed, constantly, to everyone else’s lives.

Once upon a time, when someone made a simchah, unless you attended or later saw a photo album, you might have heard that it was “nice.” You were not intimately familiar with every detail. Today, even when the baal simchah himself does not share a single photo, the caterer, band, florist, hall, or party planner almost certainly will. Families and groups of friends are updated in real time on trips, wardrobes, Yom Tov tablescapes, renovations, and experiences.

This constant exposure is not benign. It erodes Ma tovu ohalecha Yaakov, the dignity and privacy that protect our homes, values, and sanity. When everything is public, comparison and pressure become almost unavoidable, and even disciplined families can be pulled into standards they didn’t consciously choose.

The harder but essential idea of identifying excess.
Much of the article correctly focuses on overspending and living beyond one’s means. But there is a more nuanced layer: spending in excess, even when one technically can afford it.

Yes, excess is very relative, personal, and subjective. Everyone is entitled to live according to their income level. But everyone also needs a line, one drawn thoughtfully, intentionally, and with daas Torah. At some point, excess is simply excess.

Rabbi Gewirtzman is quoted as saying that many of those who spend lavishly are not fiscally irresponsible and are generous with tzedakah and communal obligations. That may be true. It is still incumbent upon those who have means to develop a barometer for restraint. Not every dollar that can be spent necessarily should be spent.

It is also important to differentiate where money is spent. A private family experience is fundamentally different from an over-the-top public display — “shtelling” a shul event, kiddush, or other public gathering that becomes a communal conversation. Even when well intentioned, this quietly resets expectations for everyone else.

There are no universal rules here, and I intentionally avoid examples. Each yachid must decide with their family and their rav what is right for them.

The role of our tzedakah system.
The level of chesed in our communities today is truly amazing, and likely unparalleled in history. There are a myriad of benefactors helping families and individuals with dignity and sensitivity, enabling them to live in ways that would otherwise be impossible.

But this, too, has an unintended side effect that deserves honest discussion. When we set a certain standard for those with limited income, where does that leave the middle class?

The struggling middle is often ineligible for assistance, yet feels equally pressured to meet the same visible norms, camps, clothing, simchahs, and lifestyles, without communal help. They are too “successful” to qualify for assistance and too stretched to comfortably keep up.

Exacerbating the issue is that in our desire to be gomel chesed at the highest level, the standards of what is provided by some organizations has risen beyond what many would consider basic. This is where many hardworking families feel squeezed. I think it’s here where kids feel it, too. Many children and teens have not yet developed the maturity to take pride in the fact that they don’t have to rely on others; all they feel is that they don’t have the same article of clothing as the next child.

This is not an argument chas v’shalom against tzedakah. Nor do I necessarily have the answer as to what the proper balance should be. But we need to acknowledge that communal standards, even those set within the construct of chesed, need to be included in the conversation.

S.S.

Lakewood, NJ

Who Do We Really Honor? [Counterpoint / Issue 1093]

Much has been written recently about the unsustainable lifestyle of many in the frum world, detailing the pressure to keep up, the constant new “needs,” the quiet anxiety of families doing their best and still falling behind. These observations are correct. We are materialistic. We are mimicking the lifestyles of those who have more than us. And yes, this is breaking the middle/upper (socioeconomically speaking) class of our community.

But I believe we are missing a deeper, and more uncomfortable, truth.

We often say that we value Torah above all else. We teach our children that the pinnacle of achievement is becoming a talmid chacham, a rebbi, a rosh yeshivah, a balabos defined by learning, middos, and service of Hashem. Our rhetoric is impeccable.

Our behavior, however, tells a different story.

Who do we truly honor in practice?
Who is invited to sit at the head table?
Who is publicly acknowledged first?
Who is waved through lines, deferred to, whispered about with admiration?

More often than we care to admit, it is not the rebbi. It is not the maggid shiur. It is not the avreich scraping by while building a home of Torah. It is the gvir, the donor, the successful businessman, the one with visible means.

This is not about kavod for generosity, which is real and deserved. It is about the disproportionate reverence we assign to material success itself.

And this dynamic does not emerge in a vacuum, nor can it be blamed solely on “the outside world.” It is reinforced — often unintentionally — by our own institutions: our schools, our yeshivos, and even by rebbeim and roshei yeshivah themselves. When talmidim observe which visitors are granted special access, whose presence alters schedules, and who is treated with visible deference, the lesson is unmistakable. Chinuch is not only what is taught in the classroom; it is what is modeled in practice.

A striking example of this appeared, a few years ago, during an Oorah telethon. A boy learning in a Lakewood beis medrash was asked to name five mashgichim — and he struggled to name even three. Yet when the questioner asked him to name five askanim, he rattled the names off effortlessly. That moment was not an indictment of the boy. It was a mirror held up to us. It revealed, with painful clarity, who we have taught our children to notice, remember, and admire.

Children are exquisitely perceptive. They absorb not only what we say, but what we reward. When they watch who is treated as important, who commands attention, and whose presence changes the room, they internalize a simple message: This is success.

So when a child grows up dreaming of being rich, we should not be surprised. We taught them that lesson — not through speeches, but through behavior.

And this is where the cycle becomes self-perpetuating. If wealth earns status, then the pursuit of wealth becomes central. Conversations revolve around lifestyles, homes, vacations, and “making it.” Spending increases not out of indulgence, but out of fear of falling behind socially. The pressure compounds, and materialism becomes not merely a personal weakness, but a communal norm.

We should discuss trends and keeping up with Cohens, etc., but unless we confront who we elevate and why, we are treating symptoms, not the disease.

If Torah is truly our highest value, then Torah figures must receive our highest visible honor. If modest living and the chashivus of nitzchiyus are our highest ideals, they must be tangibly respected. Otherwise, our children will continue to chase what we quietly crown as king.

The question is not whether Orthodox Jewish life has become economically unsustainable. It has.

The question is whether we are willing to realign our values — not only in words, but in action — before the next generation learns the wrong lesson too well.

Netanel Myerowitz

Boca Raton, Florida

Drop the Societal Demands [Counterpoint / Issue 1093]

In line with the conversation about unsustainable social conventions in our communities, I’d like to discuss how they pertain to simchahs.

A child gets engaged, and we begin the this is what’s done era. I must buy a watch that costs thousands of dollars because this is what’s done. I must give a diamond bracelet because this is what’s done. I must have a l’chayim the night of the engagement and then have a vort in a hall a week later (with the same people attending!) because this is what’s done. Who knows how many hundreds of thousands of dollars have been spent because this is what’s done?

I’m not saying that we should stop giving gifts. I’m just saying that this can and should be done within the context of what people can afford. Have a l’chayim, have a vort, but unless people are living in different cities, is it necessary to have both?

I don’t know who can change this. I don’t know who will step up and say that enough is enough. But please, can we stop the games where I send something to you and you send something to me because that is what’s done?

It’s gotten to the point where I speak with people who are bemoaning the fact that they’re making a simchah! Can you believe that? There is a shidduch crisis affecting Klal Yisrael, and some people are so worried about the debt they’ll incur making a wedding, it overshadows their joy at having reached this stage.

What should we be doing? We should be saying “mazel tov” to each other with a full heart because that is what’s done. We should be complimenting the family on how happy everyone is because that is what’s done. We should not be feeling we need to keep up with the people who can easily afford to make excessive events. Let’s start living within our means. As an aside, that’s not just when making simchahs, but in living our daily lives.

Can you imagine what the non-Jews of the world would think and say if they had any idea just how much we spend because that is what’s done? It’s embarrassing and should stop now.

May we be zocheh to make beautiful simchahs based on Torah values, not fairy tales.

Chaim Spero

No Hope? [Unsustainable / Issue 1092]

“In order to survive, a frum family has to be in the top five percent of national income brackets,” Ari Stern puts it bluntly. “People don’t realize that. They don’t plan for it. When I sit down with a young couple, I tell them, ‘This is a war that’s coming, and you have to prepare yourself.’ ”

According to my online research, to join the top 5 percent of US national income earners, you generally need an annual income of around $250,000 to $350,000.

So here’s a question for Ari Stern: If a couple isn’t making nearly this much in combined income and has no foreseeable way to increase their income to this level… what are their options? Give up on frum life? Resign themselves to accepting tzedakah?

My husband and I are currently making a combined income of approximately $100,000 per year with 3 percent annual raises. We have 3 children and our expenses way exceed that number. We live in a cramped 2 bedroom apartment in the Tristate area with no hope of ever being able to purchase our own home. Neither of us has an advanced degree and we aren’t able to go back to school right now. My husband works two other jobs besides his full-time job to supplement our income but it just isn’t enough.

What is the answer for all of us who are just not making enough money? Is a frum lifestyle only for the rich and successful?

Disillusioned

Ari Stern responds:

Your question is an incredibly painful one, one I hear from many people working very hard just to stay afloat. If you’re juggling multiple jobs and still feel like you’re falling behind, that’s not a failure of effort. It’s exhausting, and it’s something I see far too often.

The honest truth is that “enough” looks different for every family. I’m not here to judge anyone’s choices or minimize how hard they’re working. My role is simply to help people understand the numbers they’re up against.

The top 5 percent of income earners worldwide make roughly $200,000–$300,000 a year. The average 45-year-old I meet has 5–6 children. When you add together tuition, housing, seminary, weddings, camps, taxes, and basic living costs, the total often exceeds what even very high earners make. I try to build awareness of that gap — not to discourage, but to clarify.

Is the system broken? Quite possibly. I don’t have the power to fix that. What I can do is help people prepare realistically and thoughtfully, especially earlier on, before the pressure becomes overwhelming.

One of the most effective tools I’ve seen is learning — early — to consistently set aside even small amounts and invest them so they can grow over time. I’ve watched many young couples do this successfully, and it’s made a real difference for them during the most financially demanding years.

When we analyze frum finances b’derech hateva, there are only a few levers available: spending less, earning more, or getting help. Many people come to me feeling boxed in — convinced none of those options are possible. Sometimes that’s truly the case, and at that point the conversation shifts to trust, perspective, and accepting that this may be what Hashem is asking of them right now.

Other times, though, people are so overwhelmed that they haven’t had the space or energy to explore their options fully. That’s not laziness — it’s burnout. My goal is to help them slow down, think clearly, and figure out what kind of life they actually want to build.

I’ve seen many families earning far less than the numbers we talk about who are genuinely happy and fulfilled — because they’re playing a different game, with different expectations and different definitions of ‘enough.’ ”

Grateful to LSJ [Unsustainable / Issue 1092]

My husband and I used LSJ recently and were very happy with them. The coach they set us up with was nice, nonjudgmental, and very helpful. He gave us many practical budgeting tips, like the idea to set aside $200 a month for unexpected expenses. That way, when things come up, we have the money put aside.

He also told us about using Amazon Fresh for groceries, which I highly recommend to anyone who has computer access. I order all my fruits, vegetables, eggs, and household items that way and I save a few hundred dollars a month.

I know some people wonder about the efficacy of budgeting. It’s true it may not be the magic bullet that will help people cover their expenses, but it will still help them know where their money is going every month and be more aware.

A shout-out to LSJ and the free chesed they do for Klal Yisrael!

Name Withheld

Project Perks [The Kichels / Issue 1092]

Dear Mrs. Kichel’s daughter,

I also remember the feeling of being overwhelmed by the pileup of projects my then-young children brought home. Today, with the perspective of having been a preschool morah for many years, I see it differently.

Whether you son is coloring, cutting, gluing, or painting, he is actually acquiring important life skills. He is strengthening his fine motor skills and learning to be neat and take pride in his work. When tracing letters and numbers, your child is developing his spatial perception, a pre-math skill. When he chooses colors, he’s reinforcing color awareness and math skills. More importantly, he is building his developing sense of self as he sees what an amazing thing his mind can do in conjunction with his hands.

When he hands his crumpled-up project to you, he is giving you a piece of his very self. That is the beauty and the impact of the parshah project, or any other preschool project. His drawings may seem random, but they are precious to him. Ask him what he was thinking when he colored these splotches of red or yellow. Maybe it’s a rainstorm? Or perhaps a car zooming along the street? Ask him!

When the projects start piling up, set aside a box for him to put his projects in. Sort through it every month with him and let him decide what is a keep pile and what is a goodbye pile. (Never call it the garbage pile!) Sometimes the goodbye pile can be sent to grandparents who live out of state, or can be displayed in Tatty’s office. Alternatively, you can take pictures of the projects, discard them quietly, and make a nice album for him to treasure (with you!)

Morah Judy Landman

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1094)