Choosing a career is the most momentous decision (aside from marriage) that young people have to make. While many in our community gravitate to certain common occupations, career paths are not always straightforward. The twists and turns of life – not to mention the bumps and mountainous climbs – often play a role in deciding what we want to be “when we grow up.” The young men depicted here are entrepreneurs. Although they may have not yet arrived at their final career destination, one thing is for sure – these ambitious young men made some unconventional choices. I had the privilege of “virtually meeting” each of these young, single men, whose career callings reminded me of Robert Frost’s poem, “The Road Not Taken.” They each took the road less traveled by, and to them, it has made all the difference.

Money affects our lives from the day we are born until the day we die. We eat food that costs money, we sleep in beds with pillows and blankets that cost money, we live in houses that cost money, we send our kids to schools that cost money, we wear clothing that costs money, and we drive cars that cost money. We worry about spending money – and also about not spending money. And while we figure it all out (or not), our children watch and learn from us.

Just a few weeks ago, in parshas Noach, we read about Mt. Ararat, where Noah’s tevah rested as the waters of the mabul receded and mankind began anew. Nestled within the Caucasus mountain range, where Turkey, Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Iran meet, Mt. Ararat is a stone’s throw from a renewed war between Armenia and Azerbaijan over the disputed territory of Nagorno-Karabakh. Although we might discount this war as a remote conflict between two obscure states over an even more obscure province, it has important implications for Israel as well as for both regional and world superpowers. An understanding of this war and its players may better prepare us for scenarios that this long dormant conflict could potentially ignite, such as a broader Middle East war.

Unsure of my exact destination and uncertain about my upcoming meeting, I felt vulnerable and queasy as the bus lurched around the sharp turns on the descent from Yerushalayim, but I soon arrived at my stop. Alighting, I surveyed my surroundings. I was a few minutes walk from Ramat Motza, a small, pretty neighborhood right outside the entrance of Yerushalayim, directly below Har Nof. I navigated to the address I was given with help from my trusty old Moovit navigation app.

“Ululations of orchestrated hysteria went up from the nation’s media,” wrote Gerard Baker, columnist at the Wall Street Journal, decrying the reactions of the mainstream media to Donald Trump’s election to the presidency in 2016. “It was 1933 again. Late Weimar America would succumb to an authoritarian with a distinctive haircut and a penchant for intolerant rhetoric.”[1]  

Fast-forward to September 2020: Former Vice-President Biden, in a television interview, described President Trump as “sort of like” Nazi Germany’s Goebbels, the head of Hitler’s propaganda machine – or, in the first presidential debate, as “the man is a clown…a liar.” Biden again: Trump is “more like Castro than Churchill.”[2]  

Believe it or not, animals residing in this neighborhood understand Yiddish! There is a squirrel named Zindel, for example, that eats morsels that I place on the porch for the faigelach (birds). Nothing fancy, you understand, just sherayim (leftovers) of bread or other scraps. I also feed them crushed matzos, and they fress it (gobble it down) like the greatest delicacy.           

Mrs. Nechy Zehnwirth, a”h, was a one-of-a-kind person. We have heard about so many of her chasadim, but we wanted to share our personal story of how Nechy went way above-and-beyond the call of duty.

I walked nervously into Levindale geriatric center for my first day as a level II Occupational Therapy student in 1989. At age 36, I was an older student, pregnant with our fifth child. A young Orthodox Jewish woman introduced herself as Nechy Zehnwirth, my fieldwork supervisor. More then 10 years younger than I, she insisted on calling me Mrs. Shamberg. I never felt comfortable with formalities and insisted on first-name basis. She reluctantly agreed. She considered me an elder worthy of the respect of formality that she was used to in her observant Jewish upbringing.

It has been called “the greatest public health issue of our times,” a condition that a strong body of scientific research shows can make people two times more likely to smoke, seven times more likely to struggle with alcoholism, 10 times more likely to use drugs, and 12 times more likely to attempt suicide. 

As the sun’s last rays cast long shadows along the ground, a graceful deer emerges from the forest to graze on tender grass. Moving cautiously away from the shelter of the trees, the white-tailed deer is alert, constantly testing the air for any sounds or smells that signify danger. Shy and skittish, the slightest disturbance in the evening’s calm atmosphere will send her bounding back to the safety of the forest.