Out in the Cold

It was a cold February day in the 1960s, and it was snowing on Jonquil Avenue. About two inches had covered the lawns and side walks, but the snow kept falling hard. My mom opened the front door and looked up the street, where she noticed a neighbor, an elderly gentleman, standing on the sidewalk in front of his home. He was not wearing boots and looked chilled. About half-an-hour later, she noticed the same gentleman, in a heavy winter coat and hat that was now covered with snow, was still standing in front of his home

My Father’s Favorite President

If Only We Had Him Now

Growing up in Montgomery, Alabama, I did not hear too many stories of great rabbis from my father, Meyer Oberstein, z”l. He had settled in Montgomery in 1921 and was out of the loop as far as the renaissance of Torah learning in America was concerned. However, my father still retained the sharp, logical mind of a Litvak. Instead of the gemora, he analyzed the newspaper. When I was a little boy, he used to explain things to me in great detail, since my mother wasn’t interested, and his customers in the

While researching Morris Siegel’s interesting life, I asked Rabbi Moshe Heinemann about his recollections. Rabbi Heinemann summed it up best: “He did everything le’shaim Shamayim (for the sake of Heaven).” Of course, when someone does everything le’shaim Shamayim, his or her life and work endure well into the future. Indeed, Baltimore today, and frum Baltimore in particular, is reaping the benefits of the vineyard of Yiddishkeit that Morris Siegel planted years ago

Yosef Moshe “Morris” Halevi Siegel was a trustworthy Baltimore businessman, eloquent orator, and outstanding father. He was an extremely modest individual who possessed many wonderful middos. He acquired

We left Rabbi Oberstein last month as a talmid in Ner Israel, where he was awed by the greatness of the Rosh Hayeshiva and rebbeim.

The first time I ever heard of the concept of a gadol was from my friend Meir Fialkoff at Yeshiva University High School, in my first year there. Meir had a picture of Rav Aharon Kotler in his wallet. I had never heard of Rav Aharon and couldn’t fathom a boy keeping a rabbi’s picture in his wallet. If you had asked me back then who the greatest rabbi in America was, I would have answered

For the refugees who escaped the horrors of the Second World War, it was incredibly difficult to start over again in a place that was totally foreign in culture, language, and lifestyle. Many escaped penniless with just the clothing they wore and were helped by Jewish organizations like HIAS (Hebrew Immigrants Aid Society) of The Associated, here in Baltimore. Others were brought over by relatives, and some were even sponsored by generous private individuals, who provided affidavits to ensure that the refugees would not become a burden to this country. The money they posted made the government more likely to

It is well known that the first Jews arrived in North
America in 1654. What is not so well known is that the first qualified rabbi to settle here, Rabbi Avraham Rice, did not arrive until 1840. One might refer to the first 186 years of American Jewish history as the “Reverend and Cantorial Age,” since these men, as well as some laymen who possessed better than average Jewish educations, served as the leaders of the various Jewish communities during this period.

Needless to say, the lack of qualified Orthodox rabbis during these early years created all sorts of problems