Ambassador David Friedman has long stepped down from his duties as the 20^th U.S. Ambassador to Israel following President Biden’s defeat of President Donald Trump in November 2020. However, Ambassador Friedman leaves an incredible legacy as one of the most consequential U.S. ambassadors to Israel.

This year, Ambassador Friedman published a memoir titled Sledgehammer: How Breaking with the Past Brought Peace to the Middle East, which documents his experience as Ambassador to Israel under President Trump and is quite a fascinating read. A remarkable 10,000-plus copies were sold in its first week of publication. According to Eric Nelson, Vice-President and Editorial Director of Broadside Books, the publisher of Friedman’s memoir, “It was the biggest first week of sales in Bookscan for a book about Israel in nearly 10 years.”

My family does not have a Holocaust story. As far as I know, all four sets of grandparents arrived here from Lithuania and Russia by 1910 to 1912. We were safe and had no knowledge of those left behind. The erroneous belief that we were secure allowed me to grow up in the 1950s seeing numbers on the arms of older neighbors and thinking that they belonged to a faraway time and place. It enabled me to watch documentaries of emaciated human beings being liberated and understand nothing about what had happened to them. It freed me to ride my bike, to roam and play on sandlots and railway tracks with nary a care of anyone targeting me. As a teen, I was much more of an “American Jewish Princess” than a young woman growing up with a sense of identity tied to a historical legacy, a legacy I now realize is impossible and callous to deny. Not only do I have to acknowledge my connecting cord to this central Jewish trauma, but I’ve come to realize that my insides reverberate deeply to the experience that others have shouldered for so long in their muscles, bones, and nerve fibers.

Adapted from The Original Second Temple: An Illustrated Guide to the Layout and Design of the Pre-Herodian Beis Hamikdash (Feldheim, 2021)

Nearly 2,000 years ago our nation witnessed the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash, a gleaming edifice of marble and gold described by the Gemara as the most magnificent building in the world. To this day we cherish the memory of that structure along with the ever-present hope that it will soon be rebuilt.

What would happen if the money in your bank account bought less this year than last? Would you change your spending habits? Would you spend more time thinking about how to get a better deal or look for sale prices on items that you frequently buy? Would you stop buying certain items or change your outlook on what is a “need” and what is a “want”?

The cost of everyday goods just keep going up. The average price of gas in Baltimore, at the time of writing this article, is $4.84 per gallon. Eggs have jumped in price from $1.67 per dozen in 2021 to about $2.74 in 2022. And a gallon of milk will set you back about $4.33. Overall, inflation in May hit 8.3%, but the year-over-year increase specifically for food items rose 9.4%. Chicken is up 16.4%. Eggs are up 22.6%. Margarine is up 23.5%. Why is this happening? Why would your money be worth less this year than last year? You would need to understand inflation in order to answer this question.

What would make you jump into a tank of hungry sharks? Would you do it to retrieve your engagement ring? Your wallet? How about your child? I think we would all jump into a shark tank to save our child – instinctively – without a thought for our own safety or survival.

Fortunately, this is not a likely scenario, but it makes sense that parents who would jump into a shark tank should also do everything they can to keep their children from falling in in the first place. Our first responsibility is to make our children shark-proof, so to speak, and give them tools to stay safe. There are so many things, large and small, that we can teach our children and do for them that can help them avoid becoming victims.

Seventeen years ago, in late May of 2005, I was invited to join a rabbinic mission to Germany. The invitation was extended by Zentralrat Der Juden (Central Council of Jews) and was paid for by the German government. The stated purpose of the visit was to see the positive growth of the Jewish communities in Germany 50 years after World War II. My dad, who had fought with the first American infantry units to enter Germany in March of 1945 was still alive and well then. When I told him that I was planning to go to Germany, his reaction was less than positive. For my dad, and for many of his generation, anything associated with Germany was extremely distasteful. I explained that I was going on behalf of the Jews. Nevertheless, he had difficulty with any type of contact with Germany.

Dear Dr. Kidorf

Our 14-year-old son, from the time he was small, has always been interested in the latest and greatest toys and attractions. Unfortunately, as he grows, the attractions have moved from cool footballs to hoverboards and electric scooters to, most recently, vaping. We have made our thoughts and feelings about vaping clear. We have watched graphic videos about the dangers of vaping-related illnesses and injuries. We have warned him about the consequences if we should ever find him with a vape. And then we found out he was vaping (purchased from another boy at a local shul). We took the vapes away, followed through with the consequences that had been threatened, and reviewed the dangers. He doesn’t seem remorseful and, if he ever gets angry about something, threatens to buy more vapes. 

We all tend to feel at home and safe in our own neighborhoods. Even when we hear about crimes committed, we feel safe walking on our streets, going to our shuls, and letting our children play outside. After all, crimes happen, but they happen to others, not to us!

Last year, three days after Lag B’Omer, our illusion of safety was shattered. A crime happened in our neighborhood, on our streets, to a visitor in our community! Efraim Gordon, was murdered in front of the home of his aunt, Mrs. Reyder, right on Fords Lane, across the street from Etz Chaim. He was a visitor from Eretz Yisrael, a baal teshuva of two years, and was here for a wedding of a cousin. He was driving his cousin’s car and coming home from sheva brachos when he was murdered on the steps of the Reyders’ house.

How refreshing it is to jump into a pool in the hot weather.  How much nicer it is when you know how to swim and can really enjoy the water! 

In the classic book, Cheaper by the Dozen, Ernestine Gilbreth describes how her father insisted on throwing his young babies into the bathtub, sure that they would instinctively know how to swim because they had already been swimming for nine months. Ernestine’s mother was not so happy with this experiment, and I am not sure if this theory worked, but it was certainly amusing to read about. Despite Mr. Gilbreth’s theory, however, the best time to start teaching children is not when they are newborn but when they are four or five years old, according to Judy Mellman, a WSI-certified swimming teacher in Baltimore.

The recent passing of Rabbi Pinchos Stolper, z”l, the first full-time national director of NCSY, the youth arm of the Orthodox Union, brought back memories of a bygone era in my life. I remember lying awake in bed many years ago, while I was a student at the Israeli yeshiva Kerem B’Yavne, wondering, “How in the world did I get here?” This article will answer that question and discuss how and why NCSY awakened opportunities for me that I never imagined existed.

The clever title of this article is not original to me. It is the name of a book written in 1973 by humorist Sam Levenson about his own youth in the 1920s and ’30s. Just as he marveled at the changes in society, I too, though born in a different place and time, have, baruch Hashem, lived to see a very changed Jewish world than the one I grew up in.

As Jews, we lead our lives accompanied by G-d’s hand, with meaning and connection, through the good times and the bitter times. Unfortunately, there are a number of families among the readership of the Where What When that are going through the bitterness of illness, cancer in particular. A lack of knowledge and opportunity can heighten the difficulties of these life troubles, whereas the right information can help bring hope and more meaning to them.

Let me share a true story that exemplifies this: Mr. L was going through a bitter time back in early 2016, and I personally witnessed how his dire situation gained a large measure of hope four months later in June of that year. At that time, I emailed the following note to my National Institutes of Health (NIH) Bnos Yisroel Bridge Program interns:

Twenty minutes had probably passed since I sat down with a heaping portion of today’s hot lunch, mac n’cheese, which was now, actually, cold lunch. To my right sat Chani Jacoby, and to my left sat Rikki Berns, and across the lunchroom sat Shira Lesman. Words were flying around the large room, inflections of high-pitched voices, stern commands from lunch lady Mrs. Cohn, laughs, gasps, and chewing sounds. But despite all that, I could not hear a thing.

When I came to learn at a yeshiva in Yerushalayim in 1982, it was only for a year. At that time, the Land was still quite foreign to me as I was used to life back in Canada. I was just more comfortable living on the other side of the ocean.

That quickly changed over the course of the year, and I came to love being in Eretz Yisrael, becoming more connected to the Land and feeling so much closer to Hashem. It was

It’s summertime grilling season. Here are some winners that will make your next family get-together or backyard barbecue a huge success. Enjoy!

Shwarma Chicken

Before we get to the barbecues, here is a one-pan effortless dish that is perfect for Shabbos. Your house will smell amazing as it is baking.

1 pkg. family-size chicken thighs or 1 whole chicken

4 T. Pereg shwarma seasoning

1 tsp. garlic powder

1 tsp. paprika

1 lemon, thinly sliced, seeds removed

1 jar green olives, drained, or one can Israeli olives

1 T. vegetable oil to grease pan