Rejection hurts. And particularly in the shidduch world, where emotions mount quickly and expectations run high, a “no” can feel like the rug has been pulled out from under you. It certainly did for “Rachel”:

Last month I was redt a wonderful boy from a great family. He had everything I had been looking for. I’m 26 years old and have been dating for six years. I know what works and what doesn’t; this sounded like it would work, and I was excited. Date after date, everything went well. We had a great flow of small talk and even better deep conversations, and our hashkafos were aligned. After I got home after our seventh date, I felt ready to shift to a new stage. I imagined calling my friends to let them know the happy news, sending out a beautiful vort invite, and picking out a dress for the proposal. Just as I sank into my bed for the night, the shadchan called. The boy had said no. I tearfully hung up, trying to digest the news. He refused to give a reason, insisting that, although I was a very nice girl, he had come to the conclusion that I was not for him.

Dear Rabbi Beren,

I read your article in a recent issue of the WWW about bullying, and to my surprise I actually saw bullying not long after with my own eyes. The problem was that the bullies were two very cute little girls. I am not sure that the word bully can be applied to such cute little kids. I was watching a dynamic that seems to have happened before, but I only witnessed a small part of it. The two girls were giggling and whispering about a third girl in the park and saying things like “Let’s plan against her.” She did not respond; I got the impression that she was used to this. I read in your article about your build-up program, so I tried to use it. I did not know this little girl at all – so I just asked her name and told her that I have the same name. I am not sure if that is called building up. I also told the cute little girl I was with that I was very disappointed that she was being mean, but she did not look impressed. Who would ever have imagined that I would see this right after I read your article! What do you think of how I responded, and what would you advise me to do in such a situation?

Chana

We don’t need a weather man to tell us when a storm is coming. We can simply step outside and see how the air gets heavy with anticipation as the world seems to hold its breath. The clouds darken in warning, and then the sky breaks open. Occasionally, the rain is intense but brief; other times, it is light and long. Either way, it is a gift direct from Hashem, and the clouds are the neatly wrapped packages that hold this gift until delivery.

Clouds of Glory

It was these same clouds – this simple phenomenon of nature – that miraculously formed a protective wall for us during our 40 years in the desert. While Rabbi Akiva said that we lived in mundane, physical booths while traveling through the Sinai before entering the Land of Israel, Rabbi Eliezer explained that klal Yisrael was enveloped in seven layers of Hashem’s ananei hakavod, Clouds of Glory, which shielded us from the broiling sun during the day as we faithfully followed His path. They also leveled the ground, making it easier to walk, and provided protection from predators. Arriving immediately after yitzias Mitzrayim, they represent Hashem’s close relationship with klal Yisrael as one based on miracles.

Chol Hamoed Sukkos is a special time in Baltimore: cooler weather (sometimes), beautiful colors, time to relax and have fun with family and friends. Baltimore is full of fun options, some near, some far, and there is something for every age!

Gaver Farm is one of the most popular Chol Hamoed activities in the Baltimore area. They run a super fun fall festival with slides, games, animals, swings, hayrides, pumpkin picking, corn mazes, and so much more. Gaver also sells delicious apple cider. You can buy it by the gallon or by the cup at their food stand. You’re guaranteed to feel like you’re in Pikesville with all the people from the community who go there. It’s about a 45-minute drive from Pikesville, in Mt. Airy.

Other fall farm fun can be found at Summers Farm in Middletown, MD, and Cherry Crest Adventure Farm in Lancaster, PA.

Turkey Hill Experience, in Columbia, PA, is about an hour away. While the unlimited ice cream (not chalav Yisrael) and juices (parve) are the big draw, there are lots of other activities to make it worthwhile. You can create your own ice cream on a computer, design a label for it, and then make a commercial for it! Learn about different types of tea before trying some right there! A playhouse and slide are fun for the littles. There are many more activities – and to make it even sweeter, CertifiKID has a deal for 30% off! See www.certifikid.com to purchase.

Local playgrounds make for a fun outing. I recommend Blandair Park, in Columbia, about 30 minutes away. There are different areas, which will please many ages, and there are paths for bikes and scooters. Restrooms and water fountains are available. There is plenty of seating and a shaded eating area. Some other recommended playgrounds are Annie’s Playground in Fallston, Angel Park in Perry Hall (next to a library for even more fun!), and playgrounds in the four areas of Centennial Park in Ellicott City.

Baltimore Bais Din

Reviewed by Rabbi Mordechai Shuchatowitz, Head of the Baltimore Bais Din

The tefillah of U’nesaneh Tokef is one of the highlights of the chazaras hashatz (repetition of the tefillah) that the chazan says in the Mussaf of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We end this tefillah with the statement, “Teshuvah, tefillah, utzedakah maavirin es ro’a hagezeirah” – repentance, prayer, and tzedakah can take away an evil decree. This formula is based on a gemara in Rosh Hashanah (16B), and the fulfillment of these mitzvos is the cornerstone of our avodah (worship) during the period of Elul and Aseres Yemei Teshuva, the Ten Days of Repentance. In this article, we will discuss some fundamentals of tzedakah.

The mitzva of tzedakah is mentioned numerous times in the Torah.[1] It is mentioned as a mitzvas aseh, positive commandment, to support the poor, and is mentioned as a mitzvas lo sa’aseh, a negative commandment, to withhold from supporting the poor. As recorded in the Rambam,[2] this mitzva has different levels in terms of the amount of one’s money that should be given to fulfill this mitzva. One who gives 10 percent of his earnings is considered a benoni, of average generosity. One who gives up to 20 percent of his earnings has fulfilled a mitzva min hamuvchar, in the best way of fulfilling this mitzva. One who gives less than 10 percent of his earnings is considered ayin ra’ah, lacking in generosity.

I moved to Baltimore in 1980 and began giving a parsha shiur every Shabbos to a group of women living in the Park Heights area, between Strathmore and Glen avenues. Sandy Katz was one of the regular attendees. When I became a single parent to four children under the age of seven, the Katzes were brave enough to invite my family for a Shabbos meal. And thus began a very long and fruitful and beautiful friendship.

Having two sons, I was always seeking father (or big brother) figures for gemara tutoring, davening in shul in the men’s section, bar mitzva lessons, etc. I didn’t need to look too far, for Larry Katz immediately stepped in and unassumingly offered to help. While many people had no idea how to be of help to my family, Larry and Sandy were my heaven-sent angels. We had a home away from home, always. My children learned how to play ping pong on motza’ei Shabbos. They were taken to ball games and bike riding paths. Larry even taught one of my daughters how to drive and allowed her to drive his car to the MVA for her driving test. My sons always knew that when they walked in to the Agudah, there was a seat waiting for them next to Larry Katz.

 Principal:

(Walks to the front. Smiles briefly. Speaks firmly.)

Good morning, everyone. Welcome all - veteran staff and new teachers. Before we begin – yes, I really mean this – I’ll be walking around to collect your cell phones. 

(Walks around holding a basket and waits for each teacher to drop in their cell phone.)

Please hold them up now. Thank you. Drop them right here in this basket. It’s not that I don’t trust you – it’s just that it can be so tempting to check your phone or send a quick text, and for the next little while, I need your full attention.

Thank you. Now, instead of the usual welcoming, we’re going to do a little role playing. Just relax. The stage will be all too familiar very quickly. You are seated in the classroom – but not in the front row. You are looking at your new teacher. For the past months, you were in camp or at the beach. You stayed up late and got up late, hung out with friends, and never opened a book. Now, you are gazing, a bit bleary eyed, at the teacher and wondering what this class will be like.

Summer is over, but the memories are still fresh. As a grandmother of several campers, I have a sort of panoramic view of the contemporary camp landscape – a landscape that has changed quite a bit since we, or even our children, went to camp in the 1960s through the early 2000s. Some of my grandchildren ran their own camps, some worked with special needs children, some were regular campers, and one traveled to an exotic location. I will use pseudonyms so as not to embarrass my grandchildren. After all, it is quite a burden to have a grandmother who thinks every experience of theirs is an idea for an article!

Waitressing

Sora spent her summer in Migdal, a camp for special needs children. I remember from my teenage years that it was considered a privilege to go to a camp like that and work directly with children who are sick or who have special needs. I was curious what the draw is to be spending your summer doing this special work.

The clock reads 2:58 a.m. I guess this is what you could almost call an “all-nighter.” That’s what my friends used to do back in college the night before a term paper was due. It was called “pulling an all-nighter.” It was a status symbol of sorts but something I never did – well, except for one time. There I was with my Olivetti typewriter plinking away into the night. I didn’t manage very well, and my eyes kept closing of their own accord. To add insult to injury, I kept forgetting which cartridge was for black and which one was for white.

I bet many of you don’t even know what I’m talking about, so for once, I’m going to explain to the younger generation something about hi-tech in the ’80s. You see, when I was a little girl, my parents had what was called a manual typewriter. I couldn’t even use it. Each key had to be pressed down very hard, unlike the electric typewriter that I learned to type on. Well, my parents’ version had these ribbons of ink on rolls that had to be put into the typewriter in a certain way. By the time I was typing, those old-fashioned ribbons were obsolete, and cartridges had come into fashion. These devices were inserted into the side of the typewriter: one with the black ink tape and one with the white eraser tape. If you wanted to remove a mistaken letter or word you had typed, you would align the typewriter just so and then retype the error over the white tape, and it would erase it. Oh, we thought we were so fancy.

We’ve all heard about the recent initiative from our rabbanim aimed at addressing the imbalance in the number of boys and girls seeking shidduchim. The suggestion is for boys to begin dating earlier, while girls would wait until a year after returning from seminary to start dating.

As with many things, Baltimore may be a bit “late to the party” – or perhaps we’re simply not looking for an invitation at all. For now, no such initiative has been enacted by our local rabbanim. Still, if it eventually becomes a psak or if enough people adopt it, it will certainly affect our children in Baltimore.

With that in mind, we reached out to a cross-section of our community – shadchanim, parents who have been through the process, parents just starting out, and singles themselves. We asked them: