When G-d created man, “…He blew into his nostrils the soul of life; and man became a living being.” (Bereishis 2:7) Targum Onkelos defines the last two words as “a speaking spirit,” meaning that man is elevated over animals by virtue of his power of intelligent speech. This article deals with a particular aspect of speech, namely, public speaking.

A very common phenomenon associated with public speaking is glossophobia, or fear of speaking in public, which manifests in an array of emotional, mental, or physical symptoms. I wish to share a very personal perspective on this topic and then offer approaches to subdue this fear. Please accompany me down memory lane for a glimpse of my encounters with the dreaded microphone over the years.

As we all know, there has certainly been an uptick in antisemitism all over the world. I’d like to share my perspective on this phenomenon. I don’t have all the answers. In fact, I am not sure I have any. All I can do is give my view from the outside looking in and from being on the actual inside of the storm.

Israel is not a place to escape to. It is not a second choice. It is the home of the Jewish people. Escape, if you want, to Florida or Paris – well, hold-off on Paris since they no longer allow El Al pilots security clearance! If you are a Jew in France, the clock is frighteningly close to midnight. I can’t comment on the situation outside of Israel except to say, who is a wise man? He who sees the future. I am not a historian, and if that is your interest I suggest Rabbi Katz’s podcasts and Saturday night classes. I do think that whenever Jew hatred is released into the public sphere, it rarely ever slips back inside the quiet margins and just passes.

Before I continue, let me share with you specific aspects of daily life as I experience it that you may not have considered. I am not talking about the war that continues to disrupt life here for those who have husbands, wives, siblings, and parents still doing tours in Gaza and Lebanon. Just daily life.

With the unprecedented heat wave Israel has been experiencing – the plague of wild dogs in my town, supposedly escapees from Gaza, as well as a single, loud donkey parked behind my house by some teenage boys – it has been difficult to sleep for weeks. Add to that the defeatist political protests against the war and constant political bickering, with every political disagreement within the coalition and army being trumpeted in the most unflattering way possible, I almost did not write this article. Finally, Canada, Great Britain, France, and Australia announced they were recognizing a “Palestinian” state, and the whole world started to look black. Wanting to write only positive things, I felt as though I had nothing to say.

But then I sat under our air conditioner for five minutes, and the world looked brighter. Refreshed, I will share with you two positive developments, reactions to that perfidious state recognition.

I am sitting down to write this the day after the Rosh Yeshiva’s 38^th yahrzeit. In honor of the occasion, I emailed my article about him that appeared in the Where What When as the first of this series of articles. I received such incredible, positive feedback that it brought back many memories. I ended up rereading the original article at least half a dozen times, and each time, I thought of more stories and more lessons that the Rosh Yeshiva taught me. As I noted in the earlier article, I will refer to him in this article exclusively as “the Rosh Yeshiva.” I cannot bring myself to refer to him any other way.

Halacha

The Rosh Yeshiva was my final authority in halacha, but, far more than that, he was my daas Torah, directing me in the decisions that would build chinuch and Yiddishkeit in the small Torah community where I served as rav. On numerous occasions, I called him to ask what I should do in a given situation, and there were as many times that I asked him how to halachically navigate a challenging circumstance. Often, it was a question of what type of halachic standard was required for a community’s kashrus. At times, it was to determine whether a geirus (conversion) was acceptable for someone to become a member in our shul. Always, the Rosh Yeshiva’s piskei halacha and advice were available. They were, without question, a significant factor in the success of my years in rabbanus and the institutions that I was able to build. I note that the Vaad Hakashrus I built there is a highly respected organization over 40 years later as is the shul where I was rav, notwithstanding the fact that both have had numerous changes of personnel.

Here are some stories of advice regarding communal matters that I received from the Rosh Yeshiva:

Approximately a dozen years ago, I traveled to Baltimore with my daughter for a kever avot visit in advance of the Yamim Noraim. At my late mother’s insistence, and meticulous supervision, we painted the heretofore illegible faded letters of my great-grandfather Rav Yitzchak Schuman’s matseva (tombstone), some 70 years after his 1942 passing. Family legend held that the text, composed in a beautiful acrostic literary Hebrew, was written by his great chaver in learning, the Gaon Rav Michoel Forschlager, zt”l, who, by prior arrangement, was buried nearby.

Shortly after I completed that trip, an ad appeared in the Baltimore magazine called Where What When, seeking anyone who could share information about Rav Forschlager. At my mother’s insistence I responded to the ad and told all I knew about Rav Forschlager and Rav Schuman; it was a short conversation indeed since the matseva was all I knew about them at that time. The author of that request, Rabbi BenTzion Bergman, informed me that he was researching Rav Forschlager and was collecting information. Thus, he requested facts and photos of my great-grandparents, Etta Gita and Rav Yitzchak Chanoch Schuman, z”l. I acceded to his request and then closed the book on those memories as I had nothing more to discuss or offer Rav Bergman. Or so I thought....

“Which way is mizrach (east)?” This is a very common question for those preparing to daven in a strange place to fulfill the obligation to face Eretz Yisrael. The answer seems simple, but there are a lot of nuances. For instance, which direction is Eretz Yisrael, actually? What if your shul faces the “wrong” way? In what direction should you face if you’re in Eretz Yisrael itself? Surprisingly, there are places north of Eretz Yisrael where one would still face north.

Rabbi Yosef Weisenfeld eloquently addresses these questions and more while also inviting the reader to rethink the concept of facing mizrach. His excellent new English sefer, Derech Ha’Ir (Feldheim 2025), is replete with sources and pictures that provide a clear understanding of the different methods that have been used to calculate where to face.

Writing a long overdue article entitled “No Problem” would on the surface seem “no problem,” but the opposite is true here, because the expression “no problem” was not your standard blasé phrase but one repeatedly said to me by many people, circa Pesach 2024. Please let me explain.

      B”H, my children are all married, all but one living outside of Baltimore. Being with each other is usually reserved for big Chanukah get-togethers or family simchas, such as bar mitzvahs and weddings. Those happen, but not as often as we would like, and in February or March of 2024, my daughter in Passaic came up with the idea of my hosting Pesach for as many of the family as could arrange to come to Baltimore. While feigning joyous rapture at the suggestion, the mere thought of it filled me with dread! At my core, I truly believed this was totally beyond my capabilities. My panic level soared! Where would I put all these people? How would I feed them? Did I have enough linen, wine, matzah, garbage cans? The list was endless. My daughter in Passaic answered each one of my concerns with what would become the mantra of the season: “Don’t worry; it will be no problem.” Without even realizing it, this project was becoming a reality.

Dear Readers,

A heartfelt thank you to all who sent in your thoughtful, creative, and sometimes surprising suggestions for navigating retirement – or, as I like to call it, “The Big What’s-Next.” Your ideas have been inspiring and insightful.

That said, I have to confess I was a tiny bit disappointed that I only heard from those whom I can only describe as “retirement overachievers.” You know who you are. You’ve mastered the art of meaningful days and purposeful living, and while I’m genuinely happy for you, it’s made this column a bit one-sided. Where are my fellow worriers? The ones who wonder if spending money instead of making it counts as a hobby? (Full disclosure: My husband wonders this, too, every summer!)

For now, I’m still working – at least as long as my bosses keep saying yes. I’m filing away your wisdom for future reference (with the same efficiency I use for lesson plans and recipes). And to be brutally honest, even summer vacation (yes, I’m a teacher) sometimes feels a little too long and aimless. That’s really the heart of my retirement hesitation: What will I do with all that time?

Before I officially wrap up this series, I’m sharing the last two letters I received – each one offering a fresh and meaningful take on retirement. One even made me think, “Hmm, maybe I’ll sign up… right after I finish writing this!”

One morning, more than 30 years ago, when my baby was only four days old, a friend drove my carpool. She got into an accident on the corner of Taney and Cross Country, and all the occupants of the car were taken to the hospital. I rushed to the emergency room to be with my children. My father also came. B”H, no one was badly hurt, and my strongest memory of that whole event was how worried my father was that I was walking around. He remembered how new mothers were treated when he was growing up in England and was sure that a woman who had just given birth should not be walking around. I felt fine, but he urged me to go home.

Different Times

I asked Mrs. S, an elderly lady whom I used to visit, about childbirth in pre-war Czechoslovakia, where she grew up. “We children were very excited when we saw the midwife running through the street with her black bag; we knew that a new baby was coming. As a teenager, I was sent to a few of my aunts when they gave birth. Mothers were not allowed to get off the bed at all for two weeks, so I ran the house during that time. In fact, once, when two aunts were due at the same time, they fought over me since I was considered more helpful than their other nieces.”

Was there such a thing as postpartum depression? I asked her. Mrs. S. replied, “One of my aunts had a few girls and desperately wanted a boy. Wouldn’t you know: She gave birth to another girl. She didn’t want to look at the baby or nurse her. Maybe it was her hormones, although we didn’t know anything about that in those days. The father didn’t know what to do with his wife, so I said, ‘I’ll take her home with me.’ I was ready to do it, too, and named her after myself. It didn’t happen because, fortunately, by the time I left, the mother had recovered and decided to keep her little baby.”

Antisemitism is not a momentary lapse in the moral compass of society, nor merely one prejudice among others. It is a recurring phenomenon that reappears with distinct intensity and irrationality across times and cultures, adapting itself to the emotional needs and ideological frameworks of those who harbor it.

In recent months, the eruption of anti-Israel protests – particularly on university campuses and in public demonstrations across the Western world – has starkly revealed how antisemitic symbols, slogans, and ideologies are again moving from the periphery to the center of societal discourse. While these movements present themselves as political protests, they often carry unmistakable echoes of ancient hatreds: Jews as bloodthirsty, cunning, global manipulators; and Israel as a proxy for the eternal Jewish malevolence. The veneer of “anti-Zionism” has, in many places, peeled away, revealing the older and deeper animus beneath.

To understand this phenomenon with the seriousness and nuance it demands, we must adopt a multifaceted framework that examines antisemitism across historical, psychological, societal, and theological dimensions. We must also investigate how these dimensions interlock, forming a dynamic system in which individuals, subcultures, and societies collaborate, consciously or unconsciously, in the perpetuation of hatred.