Once a Pikesville country club, now a yeshiva campus, the Bais HaMedrash and Mesivta  of Baltimore is a jewel of Torah learning – and the pride and joy of its founder and Rosh Yeshiva, Harav Zvi Dov Slanger. I recently visited the yeshiva on a weeknight and witnessed over 135 bachurim packing the beis medrash and learning with tremendous enthusiasm. This room filled with a chorus of Torah learning is the fulfillment of Rav Slanger’s dream and the crescendo of his Torah life.

The journey to this accomplishment starts with a young Hungarian Holocaust survivor who, this year, celebrates the momentous 70-year anniversary since his release from the notorious Bergen-Belsen concentration camp at a commemorative seudas hoda’ah, (festive thanksgiving banquet) on the 21st of Kislev. In preparation for this event, Devorah Klein told Rabbi Slanger’s life story in last month’s issue, from his birth in Budapest to his incarceration in Bergen-Belsen to his arrival in Baltimore. We continue with a detailed account of his years in Baltimore.

As the population in our special Baltimore community grows, its financial needs unfortunately continue to increase dramatically as well. Ahavas Yisrael Charity Fund is called upon daily to assist those who are struggling financially and having trouble keeping up with basic living expenses. Guided by our wonderful Rabbanim, Ahavas Yisrael responds to each call, always preserving the dignity and confidentiality of individuals and families in need. Here are some of Ahavas Yisrael’s newest developments.

As I write, this August of 2013, my mom is, b”H, almost 92 years old. Mom sleeps a lot and, as a result of a stroke, does not speak. Though she suffers from dementia, she does recognize her family and has retained her very pleasant personality and demeanor; she responds to us and to the wonderful caregivers with her trademark warm and friendly smile.

  Those in our community who knew Mom in her vibrant younger years know that she was an excellent musician and a master gardener. She did outstanding chesed, with our home always open to guests. My

Out in the Cold

It was a cold February day in the 1960s, and it was snowing on Jonquil Avenue. About two inches had covered the lawns and side walks, but the snow kept falling hard. My mom opened the front door and looked up the street, where she noticed a neighbor, an elderly gentleman, standing on the sidewalk in front of his home. He was not wearing boots and looked chilled. About half-an-hour later, she noticed the same gentleman, in a heavy winter coat and hat that was now covered with snow, was still standing in front of his home

For the refugees who escaped the horrors of the Second World War, it was incredibly difficult to start over again in a place that was totally foreign in culture, language, and lifestyle. Many escaped penniless with just the clothing they wore and were helped by Jewish organizations like HIAS (Hebrew Immigrants Aid Society) of The Associated, here in Baltimore. Others were brought over by relatives, and some were even sponsored by generous private individuals, who provided affidavits to ensure that the refugees would not become a burden to this country. The money they posted made the government more likely to

When I think back to my childhood in the 1960s, I realize that the wonderful memories of Shabbos and Yom Tov, which have stuck with me until today, had a major impact on how I live my life. Let me take you on a brief journey through my childhood years, which reflect not only on my family but also on the Baltimore community in those not-so-far-off days.

Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur
Before Rosh Hashanah, my mother would search the stores for special new fruits. There was a fruit and flower stand at Reisterstown Road at Mortimer Avenue that