Rebbetzin Sarah Blooming of Chabad of Potomac shared a moving milestone this week as her son Yosso was commissioned as an officer in the IDF.
In one photo, Rabbi Mendel and Rebbetzin Blooming stand beside their son; in another, he is seen speaking with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, joined by senior leadership. (His face is respectfully blurred in accordance with IDF protocol.)
A family moment. A national moment. Faith, service, and responsibility meeting in one frame.
A l’chaim that echoes across a hall. A stroller parked outside shul. A baby name whispered for the first time.
And then there are the chapters that unfold in silence.
The appointments no one talks about. The treatments scheduled between work meetings. The Shabbos tables where a couple smiles warmly — while carrying a weight few can see.
And in that quiet space, Bonei Olam Greater Washington stands as something extraordinary: a community’s promise that no couple will walk this road alone.
The Part No One Prepares You For
In a family-centered frum community, children are not just milestones — they are the rhythm of life.
Schools, carpools, Shabbos invitations, simchos — our entire social fabric is woven around family growth. Which makes infertility not just medically challenging, but emotionally isolating.
Couples navigating fertility treatments often face:
Emotional strain that feels relentless
Physical exhaustion from procedures and medications
Financial pressure that can reach tens of thousands per cycle
The quiet loneliness of not knowing who to talk to
Fertility treatment costs can range from $15,000 to $30,000 per cycle — sometimes more — and many couples require multiple attempts. Insurance coverage varies widely. Savings can disappear quickly.
The journey becomes not only about hope — but about survival.
And that’s where Bonei Olam steps in.
What Bonei Olam Really Does
Bonei Olam is not just a funding source. It is an anchor.
Founded in 1999, the organization now includes 28 regional chapters and has helped bring over 14,000 children into the world. But statistics, as inspiring as they are, only begin to tell the story.
Locally, in Greater Washington, this past year alone:
21 couples received counseling and guidance
13 families received financial assistance
4 babies were born
The projected 2026 budget is $130,000
$110,000 still needs to be raised to continue assisting couples currently in process
Read that again slowly.
Those are not abstract numbers.
Those are couples sitting across from specialists. Those are husbands and wives who chose not to give up. Those are babies now sleeping in cribs in our own neighborhoods.
Bonei Olam provides confidential guidance, halachic direction when needed, medical navigation support, and financial assistance that often determines whether a couple can continue treatment at all.
It does not simply fund procedures.
It restores oxygen to families running out of breath.
Neighbor Helping Neighbor
One of the most beautiful aspects of Bonei Olam Greater Washington is that it is local.
This is not anonymous philanthropy drifting somewhere else. This is Silver Spring helping Silver Spring. This is our own community quietly ensuring that dreams are not deferred because of cost.
Every dollar raised here stays here.
Every contribution becomes:
A consultation
A medication
A treatment cycle
A moment where a couple says, “We can try again.”
In a world where so much feels beyond our control, this is something profoundly Jewish: taking responsibility for each other.
Dor l’dor is not just a phrase. It is an obligation.
Joy That Builds Futures
This Sunday, February 22, 2026, at 7:00 PM, the Greater Washington community will gather at Kemp Mill Synagogue for an evening titled:
There will be a beautiful fleishig buffet. There will be an inspiring program. There will be an exceptional Chinese auction featuring thoughtfully curated prizes.
But the heart of the evening is something far deeper.
It is about choosing to show up for couples who are still waiting for their first baby announcement.
It is about ensuring that finances are never the reason a dream ends.
It is about transforming heartbreak into hope — one family at a time.
A Community That Shows Up
Somewhere in our neighborhood tonight, a couple is hoping their next appointment brings good news.
Somewhere, a husband and wife are calculating costs while calculating courage.
Bonei Olam ensures that when the bracha comes — and b’ezras Hashem it does — money is not the obstacle.
When our community gathers, when we give, when we attend, when we care — the impact is immediate and deeply personal.
Because behind every future stroller is a story.
Behind every baby’s cry is a journey.
And behind every journey should be a community that says:
Bonei Olam Greater Washington provides Jewish infertility support in Silver Spring through funding and guidance. Join the Feb 22 Kemp Mill Synagogue event.
In a moment that quietly made history, two Orthodox Jewish journalists were photographed learning Torah together inside the White House press briefing room — a space usually reserved for rapid-fire questions, breaking headlines, and political tension. Instead of microphones and press credentials dominating the scene, a sefer rested open between them. The image — featuring Jake Turx of Mishpacha Magazine and Shloime Zionce of Ami Magazine — is more than symbolic. It’s a statement. Faith and professionalism. Identity and excellence. Torah and journalism — not in conflict, but in harmony.
Jake Turx, widely recognized as the first Hasidic journalist to receive permanent White House press credentials, has become a trailblazer in political media. As a senior correspondent for Mishpacha Magazine, Turx has reported from the West Wing, interviewed global leaders, and brought nuanced, intelligent coverage to a readership that values both Torah perspective and world affairs. His presence in the press corps is not just representation — it is elevation. A Hasidic Jew standing confidently among the world’s most powerful institutions, asking thoughtful, sharp questions while remaining unapologetically anchored in his beliefs.
Jake Turx of Mishpacha Magazine and Shloime Zionce of Ami Magazine learning Torah together inside the White House press briefing room.
Beside him stands Shloime Zionce of Ami Magazine, a journalist known for immersive reporting and global investigative features. Zionce has traveled across continents — from remote Jewish communities to geopolitical flashpoints — documenting stories with depth, empathy, and clarity. His journalism bridges worlds: traditional and modern, religious and secular, local and international. In the White House press room, however, the story wasn’t politics. It was partnership. Two observant Jews carving out sacred time in a place built for headlines.
The scene speaks volumes about Orthodox Jewish representation in American media. It challenges outdated assumptions. It proves that one can wear a kippah, speak in the cadence of Torah, and still operate at the highest professional levels of national journalism. More than that — it suggests that perhaps the highest levels of journalism are strengthened by moral clarity, spiritual grounding, and intellectual discipline shaped by Torah learning.
Jake Turx & Shloime Zionce Learning Torah in the White House
And maybe that’s the real headline. Not just that two Orthodox journalists were learning together in the White House — but that they belong there. Fully. Authentically. Confidently. In an era searching for identity and integrity in media, the image of Jake Turx and Shloime Zionce learning side by side may quietly represent the future: principled voices asking hard questions, grounded in something eternal.
For readers in Silver Spring — one of the largest Orthodox Jewish communities in the Greater Washington D.C. area — the image carries particular meaning. Silver Spring has long been a hub of Torah learning, community leadership, and civic engagement. Seeing two visibly Orthodox journalists learning Torah inside the White House press room resonates deeply with a community that values both spiritual commitment and professional excellence. It reflects the ethos many Silver Spring families live every day: fully engaged in American society while unwavering in Jewish identity.
The presence of Jake Turx and Shloime Zionce in the White House also underscores the growing influence of Orthodox Jewish media beyond local communities like Silver Spring and the D.C. region. What was once considered niche journalism has become nationally relevant, shaping conversations at the highest levels. For young Jewish professionals in Silver Spring and across Maryland who aspire to careers in media, politics, or public service, the message is clear: you do not have to compromise who you are to sit at the table. You can bring Torah values into the room — even the White House press room
The Mishna (Brachot 35a) says that there are different brachot that Chazal instituted for foods depending on their type, growth, and usage. One of the things the Mishna tells us is that the bracha over fruit of the tree is “Borei Pri Haetz” and the bracha over fruit of the ground is “Borei Pri Haadama.” How do we define fruits of the ground vs. fruits of the tree? What is the halachic definition of a tree? Do we follow the botanical or scientific definition? Do we follow some colloquial definition? Do we follow a definition that is subjective based on what we see and feel?
The Halachic Definition of a Tree
According to the simple reading of the Gemara, the fruit of perennials would be haetz, whereas the fruit of annuals would be haadama. Fruit that comes from a plant that remains from year to year and simply generates new fruit would receive a bracha of haetz, whereas fruit that comes from a plant that needs to be replanted each year would receive a bracha of haadama. Regeneration is part of the definition of a tree.
Regeneration and the Message of Hope
The Gemara is pointing to the great hope of regeneration that is inherent in every tree. Even when a part of the tree that remains after the season is over appears to be lifeless, one can and must have the faith and understanding that beneath the surface there is still the potential for life and rebirth.
What an amazingly hopeful and empowering thought! The tree itself, by its nature, provides for such a marvelous metaphor for life and a philosophy that each of us can strive to emulate: Even when things seem down or depressed or dull or tedious or wearying… we can and must still believe that beneath the surface radical change is happening and that more of life is yet to come.
It is that metaphor of hope for life contained within the very DNA of a tree that is celebrated and reinforced by the holiday of Tu Bishvat. It is a day which reminds us of the importance of looking at life not in a superficial way, but in a way that sees the hope and the possibilities that lie beneath the surface. May those hopes come to fruition, and may we enjoy the fruits that are yet to come.
Rabbi Brahm Weinberghas served as the Rabbi of Kemp Mill Synagogue (KMS) in Silver Spring, Maryland since August 2015. Through his vision, scholarship, and unwavering commitment to community growth, he has helped KMS become a dynamic center of Jewish life, offering innovative programming and fostering a warm, inclusive atmosphere that deepens members’ connection to Judaism. Rabbi Weinberg earned his Master’s degree and Semicha from Yeshiva University’s Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary (RIETS), where he studied in the Katz Kollel. He received numerous honors, including the Torah Umadda Award, as well as distinctions in Gemara and History, reflecting both his intellectual rigor and passion for Torah learning and teaching. Beyond the synagogue, Rabbi Weinberg serves as Secretary of the Vaad Harabanim of Greater Washington, contributing to the strength of the broader Jewish community. Together with his wife, Elana, and their family, he exemplifies dedication, scholarship, and service. Rabbi Weinberg delivers multiple daily shiurim, including his well-known “Rashi a Day” and “5-Minute KMS Divrei Halacha,” available on Apple Podcasts.
While the holiday of Tu B’Shevat is known simply as a date on the Hebrew calendar, the Mishnah in Rosh Hashana presents a deeper discussion. There is a machlokes between Beis Shamai and Beis Hillel regarding when the Rosh Hashana l’Ilan, the New Year for trees, should occur.
Beis Shamai maintains that it should be the first of Shevat. Beis Hillel, however, holds that it should be the fifteenth of Shevat — the day we celebrate as Tu B’Shevat.
This raises an important question. What is the significance of this day? Furthermore, what lies at the root of this fundamental disagreement?
Koach and Poel: A Core Theme in Shas
The Lubavitcher Rebbe, among others, develops a consistent theme to explain many disputes between Beis Hillel and Beis Shamai throughout Shas. One illuminating example appears in the Gemara in Shabbos 23b, which discusses how to light the Chanukah menorah.
Beis Hillel rules that we begin with one candle on the first night and increase each day until we reach eight. By contrast, Beis Shamai teaches that we begin with eight candles and decrease each night until only one remains.
Although the Gemara provides specific reasons for each view, the Rebbe highlights a deeper distinction: koach and poel.
Koach refers to potential. Poel refers to actualization.
According to Beis Shamai, we focus on the koach. On the first night of Chanukah, there is already the potential for eight nights of miracles. Therefore, we begin with eight lights.
Beis Hillel, however, focuses on poel — what is presently revealed. On the first night, only one miracle has occurred. Therefore, we light one candle. Each subsequent night reflects the number of miracles that have already unfolded.
Applying Koach and Poel to Tu B’Shevat
This same framework helps us understand the Mishnah in Rosh Hashana regarding the Rosh Hashana l’Ilan. The purpose of this day is practical. It establishes the cutoff for calculating maaser on fruits.
If fruit blossomed before Rosh Hashana l’Ilan, it belongs to the previous year. If it blossomed after, it belongs to the new year. This distinction determines how one calculates the total produce and the required maaser.
We rule in accordance with Beis Hillel that Tu B’Shevat falls on the fifteenth of Shevat. But how did each opinion arrive at its respective date?
The Rebbe cites the Gemara in Rosh Hashana 16a, which teaches that on Sukkos — the fifteenth of Tishrei — we are judged specifically regarding water. However, on Rosh Hashana, we are judged on everything. That includes water as well.
So what is the difference?
On Rosh Hashana, the judgment exists in koach — in potential. On Sukkos, the judgment is finalized in poel — in actualization.
Beis Shamai, who emphasizes koach, calculates Rosh Hashana l’Ilan based on the potential judgment of rain on the first of Tishrei. Four months later is the first of Shevat.
Beis Hillel, who emphasizes poel, bases the date on the revealed judgment of rain on Sukkos, the fifteenth of Tishrei. Four months later is the fifteenth of Shevat — Tu B’Shevat.
Tu B’Shevat and Shavuos: Tree and Fruit
The Satmar Rebbe, quoted in Maayan Hamoed, offers a powerful insight that deepens this discussion.
The Gemara in Megillah 31b teaches that Shavuos is the Rosh Hashana for peiros ha’ilan — the fruits of the tree. Tu B’Shevat, by contrast, is the Rosh Hashana for the ilan itself.
Interestingly, the minhagim appear reversed. On Tu B’Shevat, the New Year for trees, we eat fruits. On Shavuos, the New Year for fruits, we decorate shuls with trees.
At first glance, it seems backwards.
On Shavuos, when we are judged regarding fruits, we are reminded to look at their roots. Fruit does not appear in isolation. It emerges from a tree with deep roots and history. It has a mesorah.
Similarly, the Torah we receive on Shavuos did not appear suddenly. It flows from generations of transmission. Therefore, when we celebrate the fruits, we display the trees.
On Tu B’Shevat, however, we stand in the winter. Trees appear barren and frozen. Yet beneath the surface, sap flows quietly. Life is preparing to emerge.
The koach is present, even when unseen.
Therefore, on Tu B’Shevat we eat fruits — the poel — to remind ourselves of the hidden potential within the tree.
Ki Ha’Adam Eitz HaSadeh
The Torah compares a person to a tree of the field. Just as a tree contains unseen potential, so too does every individual.
Tu B’Shevat calls upon us to recognize both dimensions. We must appreciate what is already actualized in our lives. At the same time, we must nurture the koach within ourselves and within others.
This Tu B’Shevat, may we merit to develop our potential fully. May we help our families, friends, and community discover both their koach and their poel. And may we grow, like trees, toward strength, purpose, and lasting impact.
Rabbi Ephraim Miretzky serves as Regional Director for Greater Washington NCSY, leading impactful programs that inspire Jewish youth and foster leadership throughout the Washington, D.C. region. Rabbi Miretzky can be reached at Miretzkye@ncsy.org.
When I first learned this halachah, I did not think it would be particularly relevant. Then, over the course of two weeks, I saw it come up twice, and it stayed with me.
The Gemara teaches that during Maariv on Motzaei Shabbos, we insert Havdalah—Atah Chonantanu—into the berachah of Atah Chonen, the blessing of knowledge. The Gemara explains this placement with the phrase, “Im ein da’as, havdalah minayin”—without understanding, how can one distinguish? Havdalah, at its core, is an act of discernment.
Interestingly, no one ever “klops” before Shemoneh Esrei on Motzaei Shabbos to remind the tzibbur to say Atah Chonantanu, as we do for Rosh Chodesh or other important insertions. Part of the reason is practical—we would be knocking every week—but part of it is halachic. If one forgets Atah Chonantanu, there is no need to repeat Shemoneh Esrei, since Havdalah will be recited later al hakos.
There is another halachah related to Havdalah that at first seems unrelated. Even if one did say Atah Chonantanu in Maariv, it is still forbidden to eat until Havdalah is made over a cup of wine. These two halachos—one about tefillah and one about eating—appear to function independently.
Yet the Gemara draws a connection between them. If a person makes two mistakes—first, forgetting Atah Chonantanu in Maariv, and second, eating before making Havdalah al hakos—the halachah is that he must repeat Maariv. The Shulchan Aruch records this ruling in Orach Chayim 294.
Most people are careful enough not to make both mistakes. However, the Rashba, cited by the Biur Halachah, takes this a step further. He writes that this applies not only to eating before Havdalah, but even to doing melachah. If one forgot Atah Chonantanu and then performed melachah—such as driving home from shul—before saying “Baruch hamavdil bein kodesh l’chol,” he would also be required to repeat Maariv.
Although the Biur Halachah notes that we are generally lenient and do not rule like the Rashba, the takeaway remains clear. Havdalah—whether in Maariv or al hakos—is not meant to be rushed or treated as a mere technicality, as if Shabbos were a burden we cannot wait to unload. The way we transition out of Shabbos and into our weekday activities often reflects how much we truly valued the Shabbos we just experienced.
Yitzchak Kaminetsky is a member of the Greater Washington Community Kollel and serves as an Assistant JSU Coordinator with NCSY. A graduate of Yeshiva University, he received semicha from RIETS, and is currently pursuing a graduate degree at the Azrieli School of Education and Administration. He previously held rabbinic appointments in New York, including roles at Congregation Beth Shalom of Lawrence and the Jewish Center in Manhattan. He lives in the Washington area with his wife, Elisheva, and their two children, and can be reached at ykaminetsky@washingtonjewishlife.com.
I thought about Biblical intertextuality in, of all places, Las Vegas.
For more than a decade, I’ve attended the Consumer Electronics Show (CES) – an immense conference that sprawls across 23 million square feet and attracts more than 150,000 people each year. And for most of those years, I’ve benefitted from the kindness of strangers. Specifically, a team dispatched from B&H Photo Video that organizes minyanim and kosher meals for attendees. There are far more potential participants than the 40 or so who join, but for those of us privileged enough to be there, it’s a group where warmth and camaraderie pervades – where Chasidim and modern Israelis daven in the same minyan (and noch besser at a Sephardic beit k’neset led by a Lubavitch rabbi) and gather at the same table for meals. So how does Biblical exegesis fit into this equation?
Biblical texts often echo each other. Sometimes these parallels serve legal interpretation through gezerah shavah. Other times they illuminate lessons through shared imagery or linguistic patterns – what scholars call intertextuality.
Consider two moments of apparent resignation, separated by 1,100 years but linked by nearly identical linguistic construction.
Toward the end of Breishis, Jacob reacts to his sons’ insistence that Egypt’s viceroy (Joseph, though unbeknownst to Jacob at this point) has demanded Benjamin’s presence to secure Shimon’s release from prison. Jacob initially refuses. As famine intensifies, he relents. Even as he strategizes – instructing his sons to bring gifts, praying for G-d’s protection – Jacob voices resigned acknowledgement: “v’cha’asher sha’cholti, sha’cholti“—”As I have been bereaved, so am I bereaved” (Gen. 43:14). Rashi explains Jacob’s sadness as expressing, “Just as I have been bereaved of Joseph and Shimon, so will I be bereaved of Benjamin.”
Fast forward to Megilas Esther. When Mordechai urges Esther to intervene with King Achashverosh against Haman’s plot, she responds: “v’cha’asher avadi’ti, avadi’ti” – “And if I perish, I will perish” (Esther 4:16).
These are the only two instances of this syntactic pattern: v’cha’asher + perfect verb + same verb repeated. And if Biblical language is not random, then we are compelled to derive comparative meaning.
Both passages signal resignation of the subjects to forces beyond their control. But they express different strains of consequence.
Jacob’s resignation is personal. G-d has already assured Jacob of his family’s national future – at the ladder (Gen. 28:13-15) and later at Beth-El, shortly before Rachel’s death (Gen. 35:12). Jacob understands that no matter the circumstances – even the potential catastrophic loss of three sons – his surviving heirs would return to inherit the land. The nation would endure.
Esther has similar justification to view her fate as personal rather than national. One commentary suggests the doubled language reflects her recognition of dual threats: Whether by visiting the king without being summoned or whether by Haman’s decree, Esther perceives that she might perish (Da’at Mikra). Yet Esther, too, understands that the national fate would evolve independent of her involvement: Mordechai had already messaged, “Do not think that you, of all the Jews, will escape by being in the king’s palace. For if you keep silent at this time, relief and help will come to the Jews from another source, while you and your father’s house will perish” (Esther 4:13-14).
Esther’s situation presents a conundrum. Mordechai was clear – Esther’s intervention is largely unnecessary in the grand scheme because events would evolve toward a desired outcome regardless of her actions. Nevertheless, it was an opportunity she could (if not should) seize: “And who knows,” Mordechai asks rhetorically, “Perhaps it was for such a time that you became queen?” (Esther 4:15).
In this context, Esther’s response becomes more profound. She recognizes her personal fate will not affect ultimate national outcomes, yet she assumes the risk anyway.
This speaks to a fundamental tension in leadership: Are we mere cogs in a greater machine (“Relief and help will come from another source”) or the “right person at the right time” (“Perhaps it was for such a time . . .”)?
Even as Esther is assured the cause will succeed without her, she chooses to act, accepting personal risk for an outcome that transcends her individual survival. And this occurs even asMordechai seems to dilute the nobility of her choice: If “relief and help will come from another source,” then Esther’s efforts are fungible. The nation doesn’t need Esther to act, just someone to act, even if that action (or actor) remains wholly undefined.
Through this lens, what might have been resignation transforms to recognition: Esther recognizes the risk, recognizes she’s expendable, and yet knowing “relief and help will come from another source,” she acts anyway. The line between historical necessity and individual agency fades.
Shakespeare understood this tension. When Henry V rallies his vastly outnumbered army at Agincourt, he recasts duty to privilege:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.
For he to-day who sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother . . .
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here.
(Henry V, Act 4, Scene 3)
Leadership settles a paradox: The cause transcends any individual’s leadership, even whiledepending upon the leader’s actions.
Which brings us back to Vegas. I knew the “ringleader” of the B&H crew as Mr. Tyrnauer – a big, gregarious guy with an always-on smile and two simple rules: Meals were on the house, but you finished what was on your plate. Woe to the diner who attempted to hide uneaten vegetables beneath a napkin. And you couldn’t claim ignorance, since the food was always presented French service with the opening line, “A halbe or a ganze?” (“Half or full portion?”).
On my second night in Las Vegas this year, I saw a portrait of Mr. Tyrnauer in the shul kitchen. I asked his lieutenant Pinchos when Mr. T would arrive, since I hadn’t seen him the day before. Pinchos paused and apologized: “I’m sorry to tell you, Mr. Tyrnauer passed away suddenly nearly a year ago.” The team had debated whether to continue. They decided to forge forward as a merit to the memory of Mr. Tyrnauer, Yisrael ben Eliyahu Dovid ha’Levi, a’h.
This was leadership and succession – even if unplanned.
Smaller perhaps than the national question surrounding Esther’s decision, but echoing themes that while humility recognizes replaceability, leadership is the response to temporal needs whose particularity we can serve, and whose opportunities we can embrace.
Josh Seidemann is a senior telecom attorney with broad experience across private practice, government, and national trade associations. He specializes in emerging technologies and Federal regulatory policy shaping rural U.S. markets, and has worked extensively with public and private sector organizations to advance telehealth, distance education, and rural economic development. In addition to his legal and policy work, he is a recognized thought leader who publishes regularly in trade and academic outlets on the intersection of technology and industry
By Jared Dunkin, Tax Lawyer, Author, and Community Member
Thirty years ago, I was deeply moved by Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie. I was in college at the time, and like many readers, I was determined to find my own “Morrie” – a mentor who could provide a roadmap for a life well-lived.
Following a health scare he faced at age 85 during the COVID-19 pandemic, I realized I had to seize every possible moment with him. For a full year, my wife and I visited him every Wednesday. These visits became a sacred routine: she would bring two soups and fresh baked goods, while I would bring my deepest questions and concerns about how to be a better husband, father, leader, and human being.
The lessons I learned are shared in my book, Wednesdays with Avrom. It captures his unique ability to use humor to dismantle the “ruminations” that pull us away from the present. He once told me about a man who refused to tell a stranger the time because he imagined a chain of events ending with the stranger marrying his daughter. The man concluded, “I’ll be damned to get a son-in-law who doesn’t even own a watch!”.
In an age where we carry little devices in our pockets designed specifically to steal our attention, Avrom’s wisdom is more relevant than ever. He taught me that “if you try to be in too many places at once, you are actually nowhere”. True fulfillment comes from being “all in”—giving 100 percent of your mind to wherever your body happens to be, whether at work, with family, or in prayer. He showed me that by mastering these transitions, we can experience the “tremendous power of each moment”.
JARED DUNKIN is a tax lawyer who lives in the Kemp Mill with his wife and five children. He is also the author of The Cat’s Meow https://a.co/d/043QEGfe and Brass Taxhttps://a.co/d/0hrXbYe3.
🟦 All profits go to charity
Wednesdays With Avrom is a warm, wise, and often humorous collection of life lessons drawn from the conversations, experiences, and character of Avrom — a truly remarkable human being. Through stories rich with insight and heart, the book shows how every person can find meaning, purpose, and a place to make a difference, even in today’s complicated world.
What readers are saying:
“Deriving wisdom from Avrom is like finding water in the ocean… a repository of knowledge, erudition, good taste, sagacity and friendship.” — Hanoch Teller, renowned author and storyteller
“A sparkling book, filled with wisdom, and a must read… it could just as easily have been called The Book of Avrom.” — Prof. Shnayer Leiman, Touro University & Yeshiva University
“There is no end to what one can learn from his life lessons, experiences, teachings, and humor.” — Rabbi Moshe Walter, Woodside Synagogue
Most small business owners don’t have a website problem. People simply cannot tell what the business does.
When someone lands on your homepage, they aren’t there to admire your logo. They are trying to answer one question fast: “Is this for me?”
That decision happens quickly. If your website does not clearly spell out what you do, who it is for, and what to do next, most visitors leave. They click on a competitor who made it easier.
Here are the three most common mistakes and how to fix them.
Mistake #1: Making It About You Instead of the Customer
Many websites lead with company history or a “Welcome” message. That information is not bad. It is just in the wrong place. A homepage is not where people go to learn more. It is where they decide whether to trust you.
Lead with what the customer actually cares about: • What you do • Who it is for • What changes after they purchase your product/service
In other words, clarity beats cleverness.
Mistake #2: Wasting Your Most Valuable Real Estate
The “Above the Fold” section is the area visible before someone scrolls. This is where most websites lose people.
Generic headlines like “Quality Service You Can Trust” sound nice, but they are meaningless. They could apply to almost any business.
The “Before & After” Fix:
The Mistake: “Excellence in Everything We Do.”
The Fix: “Emergency Pipe Repair in [Your City]. Same-Day Service. Call for a Quote.”
The Mobile Reality: A huge chunk of local traffic comes from smartphones. On a phone, above the fold is tiny. If someone has to hunt for a menu or scroll just to find your phone number, you have already lost them.
Make your “Call Now” or “Book Now” button impossible to miss.
Mistake #3: Trying to Impress Instead of Making It Easy to Take the Next Step
Many sites prioritize flashy design over results. They rely on stock photos and buzzwords that distract instead of helping someone take action.
The best small business websites are simple: • Clear language (no jargon) • Real photos (your team and your work) • Proof that reduces doubt (reviews, guarantees, results) • One clear next step (don’t give five choices, give one)
Your Website Has One Job
A website does not need to be fancy. It needs to be obvious. If a stranger can land on your homepage and immediately understand what you offer and how to take the next step, you are ahead of most competitors.
The best websites do not win because they are beautiful. They win because they are clear. They respect the customer’s time by making it easy to get what they came for.
David Goodman lives in Silver Spring with his wife and four children. He runs a marketing agency focused on helping businesses turn their websites and advertising into reliable sources of leads and revenue.
The Torah recounts the story of the manna — the Heavenly food that sustained the Jewish people in the wilderness during their journey after the Exodus from Egypt. The food provided by the Almighty to the Jewish people in the wilderness was called manna, and the Torah describes in great detail its appearance, the quantity apportioned to each family, how it was gathered daily, and the unique relationship between Shabbos and this Heavenly food. The description of the manna is found not only in the Torah’s narrative of the wilderness, but also in Book of Bamidbar (11:7), where certain additional details are given that deepen our understanding of this miracle.
It is interesting to note that when the phenomenon of the manna is first introduced in Parshas Beshalach (16:4), the verses relate how the manna appeared on the surface of the wilderness, to the amazement of the Children of Israel. They were commanded by Moshe Rabbeinu to gather a specific amount in accordance with their daily needs, reinforcing the Torah’s lessons of faith, trust, and reliance on Hashem. They were prohibited from leaving over any of the manna from day to day, except on the sixth day, when they gathered a double portion in preparation for Shabbos — a foundational concept in Jewish thought regarding Shabbos observance and Divine providence.
A close study of the verses in this chapter shows that, after introducing the subject of the manna, its actual physical description is not given until the conclusion of the chapter. Only then are we told, in verse 31: “It was like coriander seed, it was white, and it tasted like a cake fried in honey.” The question naturally arises in classic Torah commentary as to why the Torah does not provide this vivid description at the outset, when the miracle of the manna is first introduced.
One of the great Torah commentators of recent generations, Rabbi Yehoshua Leib Diskin, asks why it was necessary for the Torah to describe the appearance and form of the manna both here and again in Sefer Bamidbar. He explains that the answer lies in Moshe’s instruction to Aharon in verse 33: that he should take a jar, place manna into it, and set it aside for safekeeping for all future generations. Rashi explains that in the era of the prophet Yirmiyahu, when the Jewish people were rebuked for neglecting Torah study, they responded that they could not abandon their livelihoods in order to learn Torah, as they needed sustenance.
Yirmiyahu answered them by producing the tzintzenes haman — the “jar of manna” — and declaring, “Behold and see the manna with which your forefathers were sustained in the wilderness.” He continued with the enduring words: “Harbeh shluchim yesh laMakom l’hachin mazon l’yere’av” — “G-d has many messengers and many ways to provide sustenance for those who fear Him.” This powerful moment stands as one of the most profound Torah lessons on bitachon and Divine sustenance.
From this episode we learn that the container of manna served as a lasting reminder of the great miracle that sustained the Jewish people in the wilderness. It reassured them — and all future generations — that just as Hashem provided food in the desert, He continues to sustain His people when they place their trust in Him and dedicate themselves to Torah. Yet a critical question remains: how could the Jewish people be certain that this jar truly contained authentic manna?
The answer is that it perfectly matched the Torah’s detailed description of the manna’s appearance — like coriander seeds, which are normally dark, yet these were white, radiant, and crystal-like. This unmistakable and miraculous appearance authenticated the contents of the jar as the very same Heavenly food that descended daily from Heaven to nourish our forefathers.
It is precisely for this reason that the Torah delays the description of the manna until the end of the chapter. By doing so, it directly connects the physical description of the manna to the verse describing the tzintzenes haman preserved for all generations. In this way, the Torah emphasizes that the manna was not merely food, but an eternal testimony to Hashem’s care, His Divine providence, and His promise to sustain those who commit themselves to the study of Torah — in every generation and in every circumstance.
