by Avigayil Berkowitz

It’s 8:00 a.m., Shabbos morning, and we hear a knocking on our bedroom door. It’s Uncle Steve. “Don’t worry, we’re up for Parshas Zachor!” we say.

“No, no! I just got an alert of a siren!” he says.

Fine. He packed in with Aunt Lieba following close behind. Miriam and I are staying with my great aunt and uncle for Shabbos in Ramat Beit Shemesh. Since we would be sleeping in the mamad (safe room), they had warned us about the possibility of a siren. “They’ve been talking about an attack for weeks – slim chance that this will be the week. But don’t worry,” they said.

On the way to shul, I asked Miriam if we should find out from someone if there actually was a siren, but we decided it is too embarrassing We joked that it was Hashem’s way of waking us up in time for Parshas Zachor because sem girls don’t have a great track record for waking up on time! But we soon found out that it was legit. We heard the sirens this time with our own ears.

Once asked about how he became who he was, Rabbi Avigdor Miller responded that he learned Chovos Halevavos (Duties of the Heart) daily. This classic sefer was written in the early eleventh century by Rabbeinu Bachya Ibn Pakuda, a dayan in Sargossa, Spain, then under Muslim rule. It is one of the earliest mussar sefarim and is widely known as the bedrock of mussar. Indeed, Rabbi Chaim Soloveichik of Brisk called Chovos Halevavos the “Shulchan Aruch of Yiddishkeit,” and it was studied by such far-flung gedolim as Rabbi Yosef Karo, author of the Shulchan Aruch, the Vilna Gaon, and by all communities across the centuries.

Halacha has never been confined to ritual precision or individual piety. From its biblical origins, it presents itself as a comprehensive system designed to govern the entirety of Jewish life: private conduct and public order, personal devotion and communal responsibility. Yet in the modern era, a glaring void has emerged. Vast domains of public policy – such as traffic regulation, building and fire safety, crowd control, and the handling of abuse or internal threats – remain halachically under-theorized and under-legislated. This gap is not a mere a theoretical oversight; it breeds concrete dangers: inconsistent observance and, at times, preventable loss of life. Over time, it erodes trust in rabbinic authority and leads to chilul Hashem.

by Sharmaine Palmer

 Last year, as soon as the clean-up-from-Pesach marathon was over, I jotted down some informal comments on how it went. I took out these notes recently to help me with this year’s Yom Tov. Why am I thinking of Pesach now, with mountains of snow still clinging stubbornly to my lawn? Well, it’s never too early to think Pesach. As soon as the masks and dreidels disappear into warehouse heaven, Pesach foods come out and fill up those aisles. I want to be ready.

This past summer, Congress passed the “One Big Beautiful Bill” (OBBB). The main thing this bill accomplished was to make permanent the temporary tax reductions passed in 2017, during Trump’s first term. Some new provisions are also included in the OBBB: In the previous tax bill, the state and local tax (SALT) deduction was limited to $10,000. This was very unpopular with people who live in high tax states. In the new law, the limit was raised to $40,000. This will be a major tax benefit for our community as the $10,000 limit adversely affected most taxpayers who itemized deductions. Note: For high earners, the limit remains at $10,000.

A big change is that people aged 65 and over will receive an extra deduction of $6,000 per person. And if you bought an American-made new car in 2025, you can deduct up to $10,000 of interest. (Will that encourage people to buy new cars instead of used cars?) In addition, each child under 17 gets a tax credit of $2,200. That is an increase from $2,000. Even those with no tax liability could get a refund of $1,700 per child! Do the math; it really adds up for large families. Obviously, you had better read the fine print to see what qualifies for favorable tax treatment.

Exiting the Columbia University’s Graduate Faculties in 1981, my long-pursued degree in hand, I was ready for the next step. At that time, the start of my career, my sole aim was to teach and do research in the field of international relations. I could not even imagine anyone suggesting that I might end up in the halls of the U.S. government, in the mountains of Afghanistan, in Iran, or in any other unusual place. Yet the academic phase turned out to be but one facet of an unusual path.

One of the many fascinating aspects of a career full of surprises, and at times of dangerous situations, were the people with whom I came into contact. Some were well-known and in high positions, some not so high. Some were courageous and principled, some with blood on their hands. Some with whom one would not wish to be alone in a dark alley and some who died violent deaths.

When I was asked to write about healthy options for shalach manos, I laughed. To me, the two have often felt incompatible – maybe because I’ve grown accustomed to seeing what my grandsons collect from their Purim deliveries: a veritable trove of tooth-decaying treasures that would make any trick-or-treater green (dye #4) with envy.

That said, from the vantage point of my own home, I’ve also seen some genuinely health-positive inclusions over the years: oranges, water bottles, and tahini, alongside the  varied homemade muffins, cookies, and hamantaschen  made with love and no chemical additives. I’ve enjoyed watching the creativity people bring to their gifts – sometimes choosing foods that match a theme or even their costumes. Condiments, coffee for a “coffee break” theme, and even the occasional beer or mini-liquor bottle have not gone unappreciated.

When compiling a list of healthier ideas, I went back to the basic requirement of shalach manos: ready-to-eat food or drink, enough for the Purim seudah. That rules out pantry staples like rice or dried beans. I also tried to avoid foods that require refrigeration, since safe transport and storage can be tricky. Soups, salads, and mini-quiches would all be welcome if there were clear instructions and fridge space available.

Glowing with happiness for the new couple, the host waits for silence so his heartfelt words can fill the room. Guests quickly refill their glasses, preparing for the inevitable toast that will close his remarks. Whether wine or whisky, everyone raises their drink in unison and shouts “L’chaim,” their sincere wishes of bracha and health imbuing the moment with meaning and warmth.

Low back pain is everywhere. It’s in the grocery line, in the leather office chair, in that wince made when getting out of their car. It’s that nagging soreness that steals sleep, makes stairs feel like a negotiation technique, and turns picking up objects from the floor into a well-choreographed dance. According to the American Family Physician summary of the VA/DoD guidelines, 84% of adults in the United States will experience low back pain at some point, and nearly 40% report an episode within a three?month window. Low back pain is the leading cause of disability worldwide, and it’s become a common, painful reality for far too many people.¹

We often expect our children and grandchildren to inherit our qualities, whether they want to or not. We unconsciously observe and compare them to ourselves to the point that when we see a glaring inconsistency, we start to ponder the age-old question of nature versus nurture. This question hit me squarely in the face when I saw my granddaughter walking around with a sprinkle cookie in one hand and a piece of broccoli in the other. The even more confusing part was that she was munching on each item with an equal amount of enthusiasm. Although you wouldn’t know it, this is contra-indicated for my side of the family.