“It’s as though he has died a second time,” the mourner intoned softly to the menachemei aveilim who were gathered around to pay their respects. “We first noticed it when he kept getting lost and had no sense of direction. He continued going downhill, until it got to the point where he didn’t recognize me anymore. That was when I lost my Dad the first time.”

Unfortunately, this sentiment at shiva is very common. Dementia is like a thief that steals the very essence of a person. It can cause an intelligent, talented individual to become a prisoner in his own body. Dementia comes in all stripes and colors, expressing itself in many ways. It doesn’t discriminate against any culture, race, or religion. Victims include prominent figures, such as judges, doctors, and rabbis. According to the NIH, dementia affects four percent of the population by age 75 and 20% by age 85.^[1]

Early Shabbos morning, my husband was walking to shul when he saw four huge deer in front of our neighbor’s house about to cross the street in front of him. He froze, and the deer froze. Waiting for something to happen, my husband stared at them; they stared back. Then he decided that either he would get to shul on time or, G-d forbid, get attacked by a deer. When he shared this story, he made a joke about it, probably to lighten it up for me, by singing “On his way to Daf Yomi, Zaidy gets run over by a deer.” We laughed, but we both knew that this incident wasn’t funny. While we appreciate the sleek beauty of Hashem’s creation and enjoy seeing them in our yard, we know that the free-running deer in our community are causing problems that need to be solved.

Just a few weeks ago, I “bagged” my first deer. Allow me to qualify that. No, I’m not a hunter; I had no intention of taking a deer in any fashion on that day. It was an entirely accidental event. Driving down my street on my way to shul, in the deep darkness just a few minutes before 6 a.m. – a daily modus operandi that permits me to learn for about half an hour before davening begins – a small deer darted in front of my car’s right side. No one, I am convinced, could have averted that deer collision. Still, an awful lot went through my mind as soon as it happened. I assured myself that I had not, chas v’shalom, struck a child; surely, it couldn’t have been a careless and unguarded child running into the street to catch a lost ball. Children simply aren’t out playing at 5:55 a.m., when the only background light is provided by streetlamps. The fact that I had seen a momentary flash of light brown as the collision occurred allowed me to take a first deep breath.

My next thought, while still on my minute-and-a-half ride to shul, was that selichos would be beginning the following week. If ever there was a wake-up call about how our lives hang in the balance, this was it. The notion of taking the life of a larger mammal was truly humbling and unsettling for me. And what is it that our people of yesteryear were supposed to be thinking when they offered a korban for a wrongdoing? That it could/should really have been me lying on the mizbe’ach giving up my life. For all its brevity, this collision surely was a most humbling experience and a kapparah of notable degree. With “only” an $800 car repair to go along with the experience, I must believe that I got off rather easily.

 My husband and I made plans to visit our family’s kevarim, something we actually look forward to each Elul. Mount Moriah is where my paternal grandparents, great-grandparents, and great aunts and uncles are buried. It’s a beautiful place, as cemeteries go, and since it’s close to Newark Airport, we enjoy watching the planes take off and land alongside the freeway where we drive.

The best part is that the cemetery is located an hour or so from Lakewood, which means that we get to spend Shabbos with our precious children and grandchildren. Some of my granddaughters and I have a wonderful tradition which started back when I was a child. In those early childhood years, my father worked long hours and was hardly ever home during the week. In fact, family legend has it that when I was three years old, I didn’t even know who my father was. As the story goes, one day, while my mother was giving me a bath, she named all the people in our family who loved me. When she was up to the second cousins, I stopped and asked her about “that man.” My mother looked at me and said, “What man?” to which I answered innocently, “You know, the man with the glasses who lives here?” My mother incredulously sputtered, “You mean Daddy?”

You run into the store for a gallon of milk and somehow end up with a cart full of groceries. That’s no accident. Stores are designed to make you spend more. From the smell of fresh bread to the way milk is tucked in the back, you are forced to walk past everything else first, picking up “goodies” along the way. But when you understand how the store is designed, you can shop with confidence and keep your grocery bill under control.

Smart grocery shopping does not mean cutting out the foods your family enjoys. It means learning how the store works and making choices that benefit you instead of the marketing team. With simple strategies, you can bring home what you need, skip the extras, and save money.

Two Ways to Start

·         Shop the Outer Loop: The essentials – produce, dairy, bread, and meat – are almost always placed around the edges of the store. Filling most of your cart from these areas keeps you focused on fresh, real foods. It also limits the number of times you pass shelves of packaged snacks that tempt you to overspend.

·         Start with Sales: Instead of planning meals and paying full price for everything, look at what is discounted that week and build from there. If chicken thighs are half off, plan two dinners with them. If apples are on special, add them to snacks and desserts. Letting sales guide your menu automatically lowers your grocery bill.

With Yom Kippur soon approaching, our thoughts turn to the most important fast of the year – and, perhaps, to fasting in general. Although we Jews may be among the few in our secular society to still fast for religious reason, we are not alone in observing religiously mandated fasting. From Ramadan to Lent, in Hinduism and Buddhism, abstaining from food and drink has been a universal practice across cultures and faiths.

What stands out for Judaism’s 25-hour fast on Yom Kippur is the prohibition not just from food but even from water. One might note that in Buddhist practice, only advanced ascetics, under the guidance of an experienced teacher, fast without water for this long. But regardless of the timing or severity, the goal of religious fasting is not punishment but purification: a way to turn inward, reflect on one’s life, and reconnect with G-d. 

In the wake of October 7, pro-Palestinian demonstrations and encampments erupted in universities around the country. They often devolved into antisemitism, where Jewish students were attacked, intimidated, and feared going to class. The Trump administration began an investigation of 60 universities under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act for failing to address antisemitism on campus and failing to protect Jewish students. And in January 2025, President Trump issued an executive order on antisemitism that expanded federal oversight and threatened to withdraw federal grants. While some universities, such as Columbia, Brown, and the University of California, complied with the order, Harvard refused and took the administration to court.

Among the accusations lodged at Harvard by the government were tolerance of antisemitism on campus, consideration of race in admissions, DEI (diversity) training, and allowing transgender athletes to play on teams with players of the opposite gender. Although the Trump administration has gone after many universities and colleges for the same things, Harvard’s $53 billion in endowments and large share of research awards has made it a prime target for Trump.

Days after Harvard commenced litigation against the federal government, Agudath Israel of America issued a statement chiding the school for focusing its energy on fighting Trump rather than combating antisemitism. Agudath Israel thanked the government for its moral clarity and principled stance on the issue, even as Harvard chose to fight the administration wholesale rather than taking steps to reform or rectify the situation. According to the Agudah, “Federal funding will be tied up, research will be halted, and Jewish students will remain less protected as the case wends its way through the courts.” Instead, reforms were needed to make Jewish students feel safe on camp

 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.