יום רביעי, כ״ז אלול תשפ״וWednesday, September 9, 2026
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Gratitude=Great Attitude. Appreciation is always appropriate.
The two words "thank you" have no time expiration; even if spoken after many years they’re as potent as ever.
Let us shake the heavens. Let us not stop until our boys and all our people are liberated from bondage.
Loving-kindness can cure the anger and bitterness in our poisonous world.
The Hebrew word for coincidence is mikreh, which comes from “karah min Hashem – it happened from G-d.”
Saying “thank you” to people to whom we are indebted is humbling – especially if we’ve been raised in a culture of entitlement.
To his very last day he struggled to transcend his pain so that he might impart Torah to all who visited him.
G-d gave us our ammunition. Torah, prayer, and loving kindness are our most powerful weapons.
Painful stories of non-observant Jews mocking and attacking their religion and their religious brethren were all too commonplace.
Yet the windows of Pesach are crucial. Through them we can see our bitter exile.
The tendency to rely on human beings rather than G-d has been our curse throughout the centuries.
We have windows of history, of Yom Tovim, but the dust continues to obscure our vision.
On Shabbos Zachor the Torah commands us to “Remember what Amalek did to you."
We should invite divorced people into our homes for Shabbas and Yom tov.
I attended the recent Shabboton for frum divorced people and listened to your talk. You gave me hope to go on. I was very despondent when I came and went home considerably more upbeat. It was all due to your focus on “being a blessing.”
One can sigh with relief when the divorce is finalized but the heart is full and it aches with pain. Yes, there were conflicts. Yes, there was a cold war that made for a frigid atmosphere in the home. But loneliness is a very difficult thing to bear.
My ex despises me and is bent on destroying me. He has done everything to torture me.
The Torah tells us that ancient Egypt had 49 levels of contaminating impurities and Hashem wanted us out before the fiftieth would become viral.
The young man could not go through with the marriage.
In biblical times the Jewish people never had a prison system.
Hearing that someone has been divorced nowadays doesn't have the same connotations it used to.
With every word he spoke, I became more and more anxious.
The link between iPod, iPads and smartphones and increased chutzpah and disintegration of families.
In a nutshell, I am intolerant of today’s addictions.
Of course, you don’t need an excuse to go to Yerushalayim.
When our ancestor Yosef found himself alone and abandoned in Egypt, the image of his father that kept him anchored.
Reader response to my two-part column on yahrzeit was overwhelming.
Whatever pain or challenge assails us, the parshah of the week will always guide and comfort us.
My tatte had a magnificent voice that had the power to pierce the most hardened heart.
When your parents come to visit, do you rush to the door and welcome them with a loving heart?
One day, my father met one of my classmate’s parents and came home livid.
"In New York I partied almost every night and the next day I didn’t feel good about myself. But here, after spending the night at the Wall, I feel an exhilaration."
The first thing you need to do is bring your burden to our loving Father. Speak to Hashem from the heart.
I’m also a rebbetzin but as yet I do not have married children; it’s an experience I’m looking forward to and the reason I am writing to you now.
If you are a blessing to others, life takes on a different meaning.
It really hit home when you pointed out that on Yom Kippur G-d forgives us with a smile and loving embrace.
When we give to others we are only returning that which He gave us.
We really are a bunch of schnorrers.
When I started a conversation with the young man his responses were rather cynical but I wouldn't give in.
Obviously it is our choice to accept or deny that G-d is leading us on our path. Yet that choice will determine the meaning of our lives.
"When we were liberated, we blew the shofar again and my father took it with him."
Those who cannot find meaning in their countries of exile find it in this ancient city.
The story was about a mother who lost her husband and eleven of her children in Auschwitz.
Assign each of your children his or her inheritance so that there is less chance for any controversy when you and your husband have passed on.
Rebbetzin, I have seen families where cousins, aunts and uncles are not even invited to one another’s weddings.
Let us understand once and for all that G-d is not a puppeteer and we are not puppets.
It is wise not to react to everything you see or hear.
Examine your life and recite Psalm 100 – the Psalm of Thanksgiving. Yes, you have many things to be grateful for and rejoice in.
I may be 80 but my memory is as good as it was when I 40.
Hashem has His own timetable and He allowed me to make my journey.
Money cannot create a bond of love or faithfulness between husband and wife.
When in a quandary we must always turn to our holy books and search for answers.
She is my first child to reach this stage and, frankly, I’m worried.
What is it that God expects of us and what is the mission He assigned for us?
There is a story about a man full of worry who goes to his Rebbe to seek his advice. “Rebbe,” he cries, “I have parnassah problems. Yankel opened the same store as mine just down the block and his business is thriving while mine is going down.”
Last week I shared a letter from a newly observant Jewish woman. She and her husband reside in a small suburban community outside of Los Angeles. Last year they came to consult with me on a personal religious issue. While they were both ba’alei teshuvah, there was one fine difference between them. He had become a ba’al teshuvah earlier than she and was therefore somewhat more settled in an observant lifestyle.
Over the years I’ve received letters from all over the world in which people share feelings and thoughts they’ve experienced upon becoming became Torah observant. Usually these letters arrive not long after the writers had heard one of my speeches. No matter where a particular speech took place, and no matter whether I spoke the language or had to use a translator, the magic always works. In reality, it’s not magic at all but a little voice in the soul – the “Pintele Yid,” that spark of G-d’s Word engraved on all our neshamahs. Here is one recent letter.
Last week I wrote about the many disappointments in life. So often we dream of something, wish for something, pray for something – only to discover that when it happens, it is not quite the way we envisioned it. I illustrated this concept through a Hungarian story I recalled from my childhood about a little boy who more than anything else wanted a rocking horse, a coveted toy in Hungary.
There is a Hungarian tale I’ve always found meaningful and yet sad. It is about a little boy who always wanted his own rocking horse. (In Hungry a rocking horse was a toy that belonged to only the privileged few.)
For several weeks now we’ve been discussing lack of gratitude – one of the most destructive forces in our society. When people think everything is coming to them, they become selfish, angry individuals. They do not know how to reciprocate. They do not know how to be grateful and, worse still, they become bitter and destructive elements in society. They make miserable sons, daughters and marriage partners. They have no regard for parents, grandparents, Torah teachers and the elderly.
As I’ve noted in recent weeks, appreciation is a lost concept in our society. Even when we are blessed by the many kindnesses of G-d, we tend to take them for granted and delude ourselves into thinking we are responsible for them all. In vain did our Torah warn us not to fall into the trap of “my strength and the power of my own hand accomplished this.”
My saintly father, HaRav HaGoan HaTzaddik Avraham HaLevi Jungreis, zt”l, taught me that before I address an audience I should ask myself, “What will the people take home from my message? What am I giving? Will it enhance their lives? Will it bring the individual closer to Hashem? Will it be a life-altering experience?”
Nachman and Raizy Glauber, a”h, were killed in a horrific automobile accident. Their unborn baby survived for a short time but then joined his parents in olam haba. The tragedy shocked us all.
Last week I published excerpts from a letter written by a suffering mother whose rebellious son had not only turned his back on his family but had also rejected his Jewish faith. This woman’s husband had given up on the young man but she was determined to keep the door open in the hope he would yet come back.
Based on the response to my recent columns, it seems the problem of parents struggling with rebellious children may be more prevalent than even the pessimists among us had assumed. As we approach Pesach, the great yom tov during which we confront the Haggadah’s four sons –one wise, one wicked, one simple and one who does not know how to ask – we need to remember that these sons are in our midst in every generation and that we invite all four to join us at the Seder.
Last week I shared a letter from a troubled mother. Her story is typical of many ba’al teshuvah families who discover the Torah way of life in their middle years only to encounter resentment on the part of their adolescent children. Very often these teenagers become angry at the new restrictions in their home.
Dear Rebbetzin Jungreis, The letter you shared last week from a troubled wife who became a ba’alas teshuvah, a returnee to religious observance, hit a sensitive spot in my heart. My husband and I have also been struggling with this problem – albeit from a different perspective.
Last week I shared a letter from a troubled and confused young woman. She had become a ba’alas teshuvah after marriage. Her husband, however, has not changed his secular ways and thinking. The following is my response.
Dear Rebbetzin Jungreis, I was born into a secular family. Neither my father nor my mother had Jewish names and I was never given one either. In college I met the man I knew I would marry. After graduation we rented an apartment in Manhattan. I was a lawyer and found a good job. My boyfriend was a CPA. After six years we felt financially secure and got married.
I concluded last week’s column with some questions that, if answered honestly, will give us insight into whether we as parents reflect chesed and rachamim to our children.
“Rebbetzin,” people say to me, “we have been following your articles on chesed and rachamim. You presented the challenge, but what is the solution? How do we impart these values to our children? How do we instill them in our homes?”
The e-mails keep coming in response to my recent columns on compassion. Last week I shared one of them with you; here is another one. We once again see that the readership of The Jewish Press is comprised of many segments of our society with a wide range of opinions, values and traditions.
The challenge you posed – How much chesed do our children see in their homes and in their schools? – should make every one of us stop and think.
How do we teach our children, and more importantly ourselves, the art of kindness and compassion? How do we become better people? Is there a university that teaches us kindness, sensitivity or consideration for one another?
I’ve received numerous e-mails in response to my recent columns on the Sandy Hook massacre, gun control, and the violence and immorality in our society. Here is one of those e-mails, followed by my response.
As I wrote last week, who among us can find the words to console the tragically stricken parents of Newtown, Connecticut whose lives have been forever shattered? There are no words of consolation that can bring relief to their bleeding hearts. There are no magic words that can give these stricken parents even a moment of relief, and if anyone knows this it is we, the Jewish people; our blood-drenched history testifies to it.
I am interrupting my series of columns on the power of prayer to focus, this week and next, on the atrocity that occurred two weeks ago in Newtown, Connecticut, and its repercussions.
People all over the world are conveying their prayers and expressing their appreciation for my decision to share my personal trials in a public forum.
King Solomon, who was the wisest of all men, grew up in Jerusalem, the wisest of all cities. He was the son of King David, whose wisdom and vision lives through the centuries and to this day guides us and comforts us in our daily lives through his immortal Tehillim – Psalms.
Readers are always asking me how I have the strength to open my heart, to tell my personal story, my struggles, my pain. My saintly father, HaRav HaGaon Avraham HaLevi Jungreis, zt”l, taught us that whenever we have difficult challenges we should share them with others, so that they will be strengthened in dealing with their own tests. My father learned this from our Torah, which relates to us all the painful struggles of our Patriarchs and Matriarchs. “Ma’aseh avos siman la’banim – that which befell our forefathers is a sign for the children” – so that we too might be fortified.
Events have been unfolding so rapidly. First it was Hurricane Sandy, which attacked with merciless fury and left multitudes homeless, their cars and belongings swept away. Power failed, not for a day, or for a week, but in some cases for several weeks.
As promised last week, in keeping with the dictum of our sages that “ayn doma” – there is no comparison to that which you hear and that which you see – I am sharing excerpts from a diary my daughter kept during Superstorm Sandy.
As I write these words I am still in my new adopted home. Originally I came to my wonderful friends’ warm apartment with the intention of staying just overnight and I did not even bother packing. My children kept pressuring me – “Ima, you have to go!”
The continuation of my column on the power of prayer was ready to go – but then tragedy hit. Tragedy of a magnitude none of us could have envisioned.
My column on prayer last week touched sensitive chords in many hearts. It is apparent that in our troubled times people are struggling with the entire concept of prayer. Does it really work? Is there Someone listening, or is it a waste of time?
Once again I must postpone the continuation of my Oct. 5 column, “Technology, Yom Kippur, Ahmadinejad,” this time due to the heavy reader response to last week’s column.
I am postponing the follow-up to my previous column – “Technology, Yom Kippur, Ahmadinejad” – so that I might share with you a very personal experience.
As we Jews know, there are no coincidences, no random happenings. As a matter of fact, in lashon hakodesh, the holy tongue, the very word “mikreh,” translated as “it happened,” actually means “kara mei Hashem” – “it happened from G-d.”
In my most recent column I wrote about ways of improving family relationships, and raising children who have derech eretz and respect for their parents. I will continue on that same theme here.
Several weeks ago I shared a letter from a heartbroken mother whose children had shut the door in her face. Time and again she tried to open that door, but despite all her attempts she did not succeed. No matter how she humbled herself and begged, no matter how many people interceded on her behalf, it was to no avail.
“A himmel geshrai” is a Yiddish phrase that, loosely translated, means “a tragedy of such catastrophic proportions that the heavens themselves cry out.” Sadly, every one of the letters on family breakdowns I’ve featured these past several weeks can be summed up as “a himmel geshrai.”
Over the past several weeks I have featured tragic stories of family disintegration. Some of you might protest that “tragic” is a rather extreme word and that “sad” or “painful” would be more appropriate, but once again I emphasize tragic.
For the past several weeks this column has featured letters from parents who have experienced rejection and hatred from their children – as well as my suggestions on how to cope with such situations. This week I would like to share a letter that adds another dimension to the breakdown of so many families in our community. In this instance it’s not the children who have rejected the parents but a parent who has rejected her child.
The response to my columns regarding family breakdowns has been explosive.
This week I will share some of my own thoughts on the subject.
My previous two columns focused on the fragmentation that has affected one frum family. Many readers may consider the story described to be a rare occurrence. I wish this would be the case. To be sure, each family crisis is its own unique tragedy, but the common thread of hatred is always there.
Last week I shared a tragic letter of family disintegration. What could have been a most beautiful mishpachah was torn asunder by one son and his wife who decided to sever all relationships with their siblings. Despite all the efforts on the part of the parents and the siblings, this son and his spouse remained refused to be reconciled. When simchas came – births, bar mitzvahs, weddings – the parents were invited but never the siblings. To add insult to injury the parents were treated disrespectfully on all of these occasions.
Dear Rebbetzin Jungreis, This is the most painful letter I’ve ever written. I’ve been through many horrific experiences. My parents were survivors of the Holocaust; they were shattered people. I know you will understand this since you too are a Holocaust survivor.
I receive letters and e-mails every day from all parts of the world. Sadly, there is no shortage of problems. Pain and suffering abound. How to navigate the turbulent waters of the world we live in is a challenge for everyone.
Last week I published a letter from a thirty-eight year old single woman who lamented that despite her having become a ba’alas teshuvah, forsaking her secular life, committing to Torah and mitzvos, going to rabbis, receiving berachot – in short, doing all the “right” things – she has failed to find her bashert, her soul mate. She wondered where G-d was and what all her sacrifices were all about. She was angry at G-d and regarded all her efforts as having been for naught. “My joy in Judaism has disappeared,” she wrote. The following is my response.
September 4, 2026 
