First and foremost, you are about to host a sheva brachos, which means you will inevitably be organizing, arranging invites, and managing a to-do list the length of your arm. The friends and family gathering to share in the simcha are planning to enjoy themselves and want you to enjoy yourself as well. Remember that a sheva brachos, like any simcha, is not intended to drive you crazy. Rather, it presents an opportunity to build relationships, enjoy the moment, and allow your family and friends to share in a happy occasion. So no matter which centerpieces you select, which dishware you use, and whether or not you’ve found a dress for the event, enjoy it. Your friends and family love you and are just happy to be with you.

Ahava Tomer sits outside the ICU at the Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem. Her son, Yonaton, the youngest of Tomer’s 11 children, was recently rushed there, victim of a terrorist stabbing.Yonaton is slowly improving physically, but the lingering effects of the attack, and the psychological effects on so many Israelis, are expected to last some time.

During these troubled times, critical programs that provide financial and emotional support to individuals and families can make the difference between a bright or troubled future. The Associated: Jewish Community Federation of Baltimore, through funds provided to its global partners – the Jewish Agency for Israel and Jewish Distribution Fund – as well as direct grants to programs in Israel and Baltimore’s sister city, Ashkelon, is providing this light.

“Mommy?” Ahuva’s tiny voice calls, as I sigh and plod back down the hall to my little girl’s room for the fourth time tonight.
 

“What is it, sweetie?” I ask, trying to hide my growing impatience.

“I don’t want to go to Gan Anafa.”

I can hear the lump in her throat. There is defiance mixed with fear and a bit of sadness. Funny how our tone alone can convey so much. I take a deep breath and smooth the golden wisps from her forehead. “Oh, Ahuvaleh,” I console her, as I have every other night and morning since her new preschool started. “I know it’s hard to go to school in a new language and not understand what the morah or the other kids are saying, but it will get easier. I promise.”

Inwardly, though, I question this promise.

Five years after the passage of the Affordable Care Act (ACA), more famously known as Obamacare, open season has come around again. As our mailboxes fill with offers and reminders from insurance companies, and ads appear encouraging us to sign up, I thought it would be a good time to look at how this momentous and highly controversial change in the medical system is playing out on the ground along Park Heights and Greenspring Avenues. Do more people have access to health insurance? Have the costs gone down? Who has been helped by the law and who not – and why? And how have doctors been affected?

On October 1, Arabs ambushed a car on a lonely road, murdering Rabbi Eitam and Naama Henkin, who were returning to their home in the Shomron. By some miracle, the four Henkin children in the backseat survived. Aside from the brutality of the deed, this murder seemed to initiate the present spate of attacks in Yerushalayim and throughout Eretz Yisrael. We offer this article as a memorial and tribute to a special couple, whose felled future represents a great loss to the Jewish people.

Rabbi Eitam Henkin was a scion of a distinguished Torah family. His great-grandfather, Rabbi Yosef Eliyahu Henkin (1881-1973), was one of the prominent poskim in America, along with Rav Moshe Feinstein. His father, Rabbi Yehuda Herzl Henkin, is the dean of Nishmat, an institution of advanced Torah learning for women, where he is the halachic authority. His mother Chana founded Nishmat, as well as its yoatzot halacha program, where women are trained to be a resource for other women in matters of taharas hamishpacha.

A friend of mine received a call from an unfamiliar number. When she asked who it was, the caller replied, “Your grandson.” After hesitating a second or two, my friend said, “You must have the wrong number” and hung up. It was only later that she remembered an article about scammers who use this ruse to extract money from seniors, and was amazed that she could have considered the call legitimate even briefly.

When we hear about outrageous scams, we wonder, “How could they have fallen for that?” But people do, even some of the most intelligent among us. With Consumer Reports’ recent cover story on the topic of senior scams, I thought it would be a good time to review this important and timely topic.

One interesting outcome of choosing to make a life in Kiryat Sefer, rather than Baltimore where I grew up, is dealing with visits from our parents. Among my English-speaking friends in Eretz Yisrael, these tend to be rare events but ones that are accompanied by much anxiety and preparation. You see, when your parents live nearby, they get to know you much better. They know the ins and outs of your life; they know your quirks and your children’s quirks; and they hopefully come to accept it all as a package deal. But when they live far away and only come to visit once a year or even more infrequently, things work quite differently. Although all young adults have to learn to negotiate the in-law relationship, living far away and experiencing long periods of little interaction interspersed with short periods of intense interaction presents special challenges.

My last article was about communication between parents and schools. Communication is good, of course, but what is it, really? We usually think of communication as one person articulating to another exactly what he thinks and how he feels. We assume that people who communicate well are truthful, saying what they mean and meaning what they say. The Torah says, “Midvar sheker tirchak – Stay far away from falsehood.” What could be clearer than that as a directive for truth in communication?

But is telling the bald truth always the best way to “communicate” – that is, to express ourselves so that the other person will accept our words without becoming either devastated or enraged? How important is it to speak the truth, and when should honesty be put aside for other important values? We have all heard the famous Rashi, in which he explains that G-d Himself altered the truth to avoid hurt feelings. It happened when Avraham and Sarah heard that they were going to have a child. Sarah was 90 years old, and Avraham was 100. She laughed and said, “After I have withered shall I again have delicate skin? And my husband is old.” But when Hashem spoke to Avraham, he changed Sarah’s words to “…I have aged.” (Stone Chumash). Hashem changed what Sarah said, says Rashi, so that Avraham wouldn’t be insulted about being called old – at age 100!

“…Who will live and who will die; who will die at his predestined time and who before his time…who by sword…and who by stoning….” (Nesana Tokef)

The prayer Nesana Tokef is one of the reasons the period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is called the Days of Awe. The days are awesome, all right. Life is, too. But sometimes that truth flits briefly across our consciousness and disappears…for the moment.

Here in Yerushalayim, the High Holidays came and went. Yes, there was the Iran deal, and Putin was sticking his fingers into the Syrian imbroglio, but otherwise, it was business as usual in Jerusalem. Stands were set up outside the GRA Shul in Shaarei Chesed for the arba minim, they were selling prefab sukkas on the corner of Keren Kayemet and Usishkin Streets, and the weather on the first night of Yom Tov was fantastic – as opposed to the rain we got on the first night last year.

As a longtime resident of Israel, I guess I’ve come a long way since the days when I viewed all Jews not from Kovne, Lithuania, as horse thieves. Yes, I can certainly pat myself on the back now for having become the tolerant lover of all Jews that I know myself to be. Yet it didn’t happen in a day.

I can still recall, as a boy in frugal, Litvishe Baltimore, people’s disdain upon hearing of families that had married out – that is, their sons had married non-Litvak, non-Baltimorean, Brooklyn girls, and had been pressured by the girls’ families not only into holding their weddings in Brooklyn (Oy vey! Why didn’t they compromise on Wilmington?) but to holding lavish affairs with Viennese tables! – heaven help us.