No parents want to be accused of spoiling their children. But speaking to parents about the topic, I quickly found that their ideas of what constitutes spoiling vary quite a bit. The definition of “spoil,” according to Webster’s Dictionary, is “…to impair the quality or effect of character by overindulgence or excessive praise.” Of course, that leaves us with the dilemma of what is “overindulgence” or “excessive praise.”

It was a privilege to interview Rabbi Yosef Rosenfeld, mazkir (administrator) of the Baltimore Bais Din. In this article I will try to clarify with Rabbi Rosenfeld how a bais din works and what is its purpose in general. I will also specifically inquire about the Baltimore Bais Din.

When it became apparent during the summer that the COVID-19 pandemic was going to be a prevalent factor during the upcoming school year, my friends and I faced a dilemma. We had to acknowledge the fact that our longstanding hopes and plans to continue learning in a yeshiva in Israel were in jeopardy. Would the yeshivas open at all? Would they succeed in devising a plan to ensure the safety of their students and staff? This was Israel, where the government is stricter and the rules less clear. Even if our yeshiva opened, should I go, as the experience was sure to be much curtailed?

This article is about being true to your word, helping your children do the same, and making the most of it in a productive and positive way with your children.

In the parent-child relationship, trust is crucial. Yet trust can be a funny thing when it comes to children. It seems that any passing comment or careless thought you expressed without paying attention to it becomes a legally-binding agreement in their eyes. You may have been in the middle of washing dishes when your daughter breezed through the kitchen, mumbling something about getting together with her friends. You may have mumbled something back as you reached for a towel. You can be certain that whatever you said (as long as it was in the affirmative) will come back to haunt you, even if you can’t even remember what it was that you agreed to! “But, Mom, you s-a-i-d!” will ring through the house until you let her go.

How does a young Israeli kollel couple with very little income and four young children get to spend Yom Kippur and Sukkos, all expenses paid, in a hotel on the shores of the Kinneret?

Welcome to the upside-down world of Corona, where amongst all the trauma of quarantining, schools closing, sick people, and all our other worries, something pleasant sometimes happens. A young woman, Chaya, who lives in Afula in northern Israel with her husband and four children, spent Sukkos in a hotel. She was so enthusiastic about the experience that I asked her to share it with the readers of the WWW. Here is her story.

When I asked Rochel Berman if I could interview her, after being tipped off by a mutual friend about her fascinating story, she immediately took me up on my offer – with a disclaimer. She didn’t think her life was anything fantastic. Now that I know her life story, though, I’d say it could be the subject of a movie or a book. What do you think?

Déjà Vu

Rochel Berman was born and raised in Buenos Aires. Her parents, both natives of Poland, were Holocaust survivors. When they met and married in Paris, her father had papers to go to America, and her mother had papers to go to Argentina. They decided on Argentina, where they eventually did very well.

Last month, I introduced this series of articles by explaining how, many years ago, I wrote a book of advice to my children in the form of letters. It was based largely on Pirkei Avos, whose principles I have tried to live by and which I have tried to instill in my children. Now, I am writing to my grandchildren, to transmit to them, too, whatever wisdom I have attained as well as their family history, stories, and minhagim.

In disseminating these letters beyond the family, I am not preaching, nor am I attempting to give mussar, both of which I may not be qualified or deserving to do. These are simply words of advice to my children and grandchildren, based on my personal Torah education, hashkafa (religious outlook), and life experiences.

November is upon us, with its crisp autumn air and cozy sweaters. Thanksgiving is right on our doorsteps. Unbelievable! I am grateful that our schools have been able to open. I am grateful, too, for the time we get to spend with our families (both near and far, via Zoom or in person). Whether your kids are going to school in person or not, here are some hands-on activities you can do with them for after-school snack or a mid-morning break. Encouraging healthy eating habits happens by having good food around, out, and available. And fruits and vegetables are so much more interesting when they pretend to be something else (like a turkey) and when you make them yourself. Children tend to eat these projects as soon as they’re done, if not before. The older the children, the more complex their food projects could be; adding flair and design is part of the fun. It’s also fun for the adults to join in and make their own projects. I’d love to see pictures of the things you and your children make.

I never fully understood the power of music until this past month, living through an experience whose tune has never been heard before. Seminary in Israel during COVID-19 is a song that makes you laugh, a song that makes you cry. It is a song that makes your heart long to be home while your soul soars because it realizes you are home. It is a song of overcoming fears, creating new friendships, living through untouched history. The more time I spend living the “COVID seminary” song, the more I realize that the music that accompanies this experience comes from within, that there is a song for every great moment and every challenging moment, and that, in Israel, music is created everywhere. 

Many years ago, when my children were in their teens, I thought to put into writing some of the principles I have lived by and that I tried to instill in them all during their growing-up years. I wrote many pages of advice, based largely on Pirkei Avos, something that I imagine loving parents and grandparents have always done in what has been called an “ethical will.”

It began with the Shidduch Book, which I wrote in 1996. Although my children were not yet dating, I wanted to prepare them for that most momentous decision in life: the choice of a marriage partner. I continued to write “letters” to my children and ultimately gathered my words into a beautifully-bound book, which I presented to each of my children as a legacy. I called them Letters to My Children.