As we pray for rain in our Holy Land, my personal deluge has come in the form of having to replace several major household appliances almost at once. The oven, fridge, and air conditioner that had served us well for 15 years all went belly-up within a six-month period. Financially challenging, yes – but also technologically terrifying. Just as I was getting comfortable setting the Shabbos mode on my new oven, it was time to order a new fridge. From my preliminary research, I learned that some refrigerators now come with a Shabbos mode setting, too.

“I highly recommend the GE with the Shabbos Keeper attachment made by Zman Technologies,” advised a frum salesman at Baltimore’s newly-opened Town Appliance store. “It’s programmed according to your location to automatically put the fridge in Shabbos mode an hour-and-a-half before every Shabbos and Yom Tov – and will turn off the Shabbos mode an hour-and-a-half after Shabbos/Yom Tov – for the next 30 years!”

To the Shadchan:

My son is handsome, accomplished, and a much sought-after young man. I constantly get calls from friends, shadchanim, and even strangers with suggestions of girls to date. People call my friends to try to “get” to me. I feel bombarded. As his mother, I know that he is not ready to get married. He has issues that cannot be seen with the naked eye. Obviously, I do not want to tell people because it is not their business. But when I try to put people off, they scoff: “What do you mean he’s not going out!” or “I guess next week we will hear he is engaged!”

 Why can’t people accept me at my word? Why are they nosy and insensitive? Why do they insist on pursuing me when I have indicated that we are not interested? I am a very straightforward and honest person – some have even called me naïve. This is a dilemma for me every time. I stammer and don’t know what to say, and I feel frustrated and sad.

Dear Rabbi Hochberg,

The other day I overheard my teenage daughter on the phone with her friend, and she sounded very angry. Although I was unable to make out what was going on, it disturbed me to see how angry she was. It’s not the first time she has gotten furious over something. To be honest, anger is a trait I also struggle with, and perhaps that’s why I was so bothered to see it in my daughter. I want to show her how to deal with life without getting so angry. Usually I explain to her why anger is not a good midda, but I haven’t found that to be very helpful. Is there a way to teach her to be less mad?

Mother in a Quandary

They’re filled with people, representing a potpourri of ages, cultures, languages, and styles. There are strollers and babies and little children, alongside harried mothers, kind bubbies, and roshei yeshiva. There are smiles and laughter and warmth – and always someone willing to lift the other end of the stroller.

They’re unmatched. They’re special. There’s nothing else in the world quite like buses in Yerushalayim, no other place where you’ll find camaraderie within such close quarters. There’s no other place where women settle in for a bumpy drive, slowly enunciating the holy words of Tehilim and handing out booklets for the rest of the passengers. These buses are finite in space, but, somehow, they always seem to expand, and the number of people they can hold seems endless.

 I work in an inner-city neighborhood as a speech pathologist. I teach three- and four-year-old toddlers how to talk. Speech therapy sessions take place in the family home, usually with the mother, child, and me. I bring the toys, and we play. Somehow, by talking about what the child is engaged in, through modeling, repetition, and using single words, a light switch turns on, and in a short time, the child begins talking. It’s amazing and gratifying.

The mothers and I often have a very good relationship. They are kind and respectful to me, often referring to me as Ma’am, as in “Yes, ma’am.” I am kind and respectful to them. When I arrive at the client’s house, I greet the child and his mother with a hearty hello. I tune in to the child with love and kindness, much the same way as I would treat my own grandchildren. I ask the parent how they are doing and really listen to what they have to say. When explaining my treatment methods to them, I am patient and understanding. In short, I am sincerely kind to them. I find being kind with sincerity, goes a long way. After a few sessions, the family acts like they are glad to see me; they smile and treat me with like a friend, and their children run to the door to greet me.

One of the highlights of writing this monthly article is that I get to connect with wonderful parents, grandparents, and teachers in our community who come over to discuss some of the ideas I have shared. I recently wrote an article about the importance of teaching vocabulary in Limudei Kodesh and had some fascinating conversations on the topic of Hebrew language learning. I’d like to share some of my thoughts to include all of you in the ongoing discussion.

Many of us have had the same question: How come students who have spent 12 years in a yeshiva cannot speak Hebrew fluently? While I cannot impart any scientific research on this question, I can share some experiences that have helped me understand the issue.

As a writer, one of the perks of being on numerous WhatsApp and email groups is the opportunity to poll fellow members, as I did recently when I requested menorah stories and photos of “creatively made, makeshift, and otherwise unique and special Chanukah menorahs.” It turned into a trip down Menorah memory lane for many. Others shared amazing stories of keeping the flickering flame of Chanukah alive during oppressive times. Some noted interesting menorahs they have seen – constructed of everything from surf boards to skis to Legos to candy, pipes, bottle caps, shot-glasses, baby food jars, sculpted ice, Smores, and donuts.

In keeping with WWW’s Chanukah theme, it was a true miracle that I was able to gather so much interesting material in so short a time!

Have you heard that dogs are man’s best friend? While exploring the origins of this expression, I came across a Yiddish expression about dogs, which states that it’s a huntisher velt, a dog’s world. The huntisher expression has various meanings, depending on how it is said. On the one hand, it can mean that things are average; on the other hand, it can mean that things are teef ihn drerd, not so great.

Dogs are very popular pets and have been credited with saving human lives – no small accomplishment! At the same time, they have maimed and even killed human beings. So what does our expression mean? Nu, you may respond, voss hakst do ah chinik (why are you prattling)? Let’s explore a little and find out about dogs.

We who live in the United States can’t help but associate the month of December with gift giving. From brochures that come in the mail to internet ads, billboards, and radio jingles – we are constantly reminded to buy gifts.

We Jews also give gifts on Chanukah. Is this a reflection of what we see around us? Are we caught up in the “spirit of the season” and just copying the goyim?

No. Giving Chanuaka gelt (money) and, by extension, gifts is a very old tradition, not related to the month of December.

Editor’s note: We received this letter and submitted it to Mesila of Baltimore’s Josh Hurewitz for a reply.

Dear Editors,

I’m not sure which of your columns would handle a situation like this. It’s about both money and shidduchim. I’ve always considered myself an average kind of guy. I’ve worked hard for most of my life. My parents, a”h, were not wealthy. I went to yeshivas but couldn’t afford to stay long in kollel after I got married since my wife’s family wasn’t wealthy either. I got a college degree through student loans, and my salaried jobs have, b”H, allowed me to pay tuitions, marry off some of my children in a modest, balabatish way, and help out the ones who are in kollel as much as I could. My wife has no degree, but she also works hard to help pay the bills.