chanukah 5770

Historic Meeting Maran Hagaon Harav Chaim Pinchas Sheinberg, shlit"a,

and Maran Hagaon Harav Chaim Kanievsky, shlit"a

After Forty Years

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Rav Chaim Pinchas Scheinberg, shlit”a, hadn’t met Rav Chaim Kanievsky, shlit”a, for forty years. Astonishingly enough, despite the mutual admiration and fondness between these two Gedolei Yisrael, the opportunity never arose. Neither Rav Chaim Pinchas nor Rav Chaim have time for visits-for-the-sake-of-visits in their daily schedules. They both live in Eretz Yisrael, the distance between their respective homes is just one hour of traveling time. Still, somehow, forty years had passed since their previous meeting. Their time had become more precious with each passing year and the natural probability that they would meet decreased steadily as they both reduced their appearances at public chareidi functions.

But even something that doesn’t happen for forty years can suddenly take place one fine day – and it did! The two Gedolei Hador happened to meet at a wedding. The relatives of the two Gedolim had realized prior to the event that this wedding would serve as a wonderful opportunity for the two Gedolim to finally meet.

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Rebbetzin Scheinberg, a”h, was then at the very end of her life. Her situation was very serious. There was nothing that could be done for her anymore. Her children had been summoned from abroad so they would be present at yetzias neshamah but deep in

their hearts, hope still lingered. It is written, after all, that even when a sword rests upon a person’s neck, he should not despair. Rav Scheinberg’s family hoped that their father would ask Rav Kanievsky for his blessing and maybe, maybe Rav Chaim’s prayer would rend the very Heavens and the Rebbetzin would yet rise from her sickbed.

Rav Chaim Kanievsky expressed his desire to meet Rav Chaim Pinchas Scheinberg and Rav Chaim Pinchas expressed a similar desire. The great men’s respective students prepared a small room where the two Gedolim could meet and converse. A spirit of excitement and anticipation gripped whoever knew about the upcoming meeting.

The meeting was, as expected, very moving. In the forty years that had passed, each of the two Gedolei Yisrael had become who he was today. How many pages of Gemara, how many hours of intense study, how many days of immersion in Torah had passed since they’d last met? No one knew what the two Torah giants felt in their hearts. They spoke very little but each word contained a world of content. They greeted one another and sat down at the same table. Their students, gabbaim and meshamshim stood around the table at the ready.

Thhheeee TTwwwoo GGGeeddoooolleeiii HHaaadddoorr DDDDiiscccuusssssseeddd………

In a similar fashion to what occurred at dozens

of other events, at various opportunities no less surprising than this one, the Gedolim began to discuss… Kupat Ha’ir.

Incredible.

Do two talmidei chachamim of such stature have nothing better to talk about than Kupat Ha’ir?

Apparently not…

The two Torah giants spoke about the importance of Kupat Ha’ir and sang its praises. Then they took the list of contributors and prayed on their behalf. These precious moments of finally meeting after not seeing one another for forty years were used for Kupat Ha’ir, the most important topic on the chareidi Jewish world’s agenda!

If you give this matter a little thought, you see that indeed, Kupat Ha’ir is one of the most important matters concerning each of these two Gedolei Hador individually as well as mutually.

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Kupat Ha’ir, as the Gedolei Yisrael have said on so many occasions, is an extension of the Gedolim themselves. It carries out the job that is really their responsibility, freeing them to study Torah and lead Klal Yisrael. In previous generations, Tanna’im and Amora’im would personally set out to collect funds for the poor in various countries. They never ruled the time that could have been spent studying Torah for they knew that the poor peoples situation depended on them. Who if not they, the leaders of Am Yisrael, would see to it that everyone had what to eat?

That is why the Gedolim have a direct interest in strengthening

tzedakah organizations so that they will be able to meet their goal of providing for the needy. That is why tzedakah funds are a central topic of conversation on the agenda of their communal responsibilities.

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Speaking of tzedakah, it should come as no surprise that Kupat Ha’ir is THE topic of discussion and of major interest to the Gedolim. Everyone knows that over the years, Kupat Ha’ir has become the largest and most trustworthy organization in Eretz Yisrael that deals with tzedakah matters. It is the tzedakah organization headed unanimously by all the Gedolei Hador, who lend it their full support, fondness and respect. The Gedolei Hador, shlit”a, are the heads of Kupat Ha’ir; they are actively involved in its administration. They hold the keys to Kupat Ha’ir – not just figuratively but in all areas. The staff at Kupat Ha’ir takes not a single step without their agreement and encouragement. Kupat Ha’ir is literally the personal organization of the Gedolim. It is thanks to Kupat Ha’ir that the Gedolim can continue studying Torah and serving Hashem, authoring sefarim and writing responses rather than go from door to door collecting charity in the manner of the Tanna’im and Amora’im of previous generations.

The Gedolei Hador hold meetings in their homes, receive the rabbanim on Kupat Ha’ir’s staff at any time, bless contributors at very personal, precious times, agree to be photographed, appear in public or write letters, answer questions ‘round the clock – all activities very foreign to their nature – in order to lend Kupat Ha’ir maximum backing and maximal publicity. They want every Jew in the world to be aware of their unstinting support of Kupat Ha’ir. The amount of time and effort they invest in Kupat Ha’ir is beyond comprehension – but there is a good reason for it. They need Kupat Ha’ir; the entire generation needs Kupat Ha’ir. In their eyes, Kupat Ha’ir is a lot more important than what small people like ourselves are capable of understanding.

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If families are not thrown onto the street – it is thanks to Kupat Ha’ir.

If their children to not leave the derech and join “the other side,” Rachmana litzlan – it is thanks to Kupat Ha’ir.

If avreichim continue studying Torah in kollel, supporting the entire world with their Torah – it is thanks to Kupat Ha’ir.

If their wives and daughters continue to be emotionally healthy despite the steadily deteriorating economic situation in the world – it is thanks to Kupat Ha’ir.

And if all of Klal Yisrael merits tremendous love from our Father in Heaven, love that delivers us from harsh decrees – that, too, is thanks to Kupat Ha’ir.

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thheee CCoonntttriiibbuutttoorsss

On the one hand, Kupat Ha’ir has the merit of acting as a tremendous tzedakah organization that supports thousands upon thousands of families, including children, women, elderly people, sick people, and people suffering all types of terrible tzaros. At the same time, it also has the merit of uniting all of Klal Yisrael under one banner, under the awesome merit of the mitzvah of tzedakah taking place on a scale our forefathers could never have dreamed of. It is this merit that marches before us like the pillar of fire that protected Bnei Yisrael in the desert, rescuing us from those who would harm us until the arrival of Moshiach, may he come speedily, in our times.

The Gedolei Hador know this.

They know that Kupat Ha’ir has merited all this because of its incredible integrity and its absolute obedience to the Gedolei Hador, its amazing subservience to them. It has merited all this because it operates entirely lesheim Shamayim. The staff receives no compensation or personal benefits, which

ensures that everything is run one hundred percent honestly. It has merited all this because of the many volunteers who invest hours and days of their own time. It has merited this because of the thousands of contributors who trust it implicitly.

The Gedolei Hador know all this. Maybe, with their far-reaching gaze, they know even more – things that we do not know yet.

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The Gedolei Hador place Kupat Ha’ir first on their personal agenda as well as on the public agenda. We see this time and time again and we feel both joy and apprehension.

Rav Chaim Pinchas Scheinberg, shlit”a, and Rav Chaim Kanievsky, shlit’a, had not met for forty years. Forty years had passed since their previous meeting. And yet, when they finally met, the two Torah giants did not reminisce about days gone by or fill one another in on what was new. Instead, they utilized the few moments they had together to discuss how they might strengthen Kupat Ha’ir.

When they show us the way with such clarity – we, too, know what we must do!

Each and every one of us, wherever he may be, must know. Kupat Ha’ir is in our hearts at all times. Kupat Ha’ir is just a phone call away. In times of joy and in times of hardship, for a particular reason and without one, Kupat Ha’ir is the best thing that has ever happened to us. It is the best thing that is happening to us right now.

Kupat Ha’ir opens the gates of Heaven for us. It forges a connection between us and Hashem. When things are going well and also when they’re not. At happy occasions and at sad ones. When we want something and when we’re disappointed, when our hearts fill with hope and when --- always!

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Every window has a menorah, and every menorah is lit. That’s what you see from the outside.

Inside, you see things differently.

The First Day of The First Day of Chanukah. One Flame.Chanukah. One Flame.One boy.

A boy stands facing the flames, his heart about to break. The flames make his heart flood with memories. Exactly one year ago, on the second night of Chanukah, was when it all began… the problem that ruined his life. Ever since that day, the noose has been tightening around his neck, refusing to slacken. An entire year! An entire year

has passed and his parents see him and feel their eyes grow dark.

One year ago, on this night, the boy witnessed a terrible tragedy. His

eyes saw unbearably terrible images and

his terror at the sight of them etched them

on his mind forever in

1full detail. It took a while before his parents understood what had happened. Their wonderful, talented son suddenly turned into a broken, wilted boy afraid of his own shadow. His parents tried to talk to him, as did family members and his mashgiachat yeshivah… to no avail. It was only when he had sessions with a professional psychologist that the truth came out. An entire year has passed and he still is not back to himself. The nightmarish images still haunt him every night. During the daytime, too, he sees the world as split into two: before the tragedy and after.

The family endured many serious outbursts, nights filled with tortured cries and terror-filled screams as the boy’s soul did battle with memories threatening to rip it to shreds. The children walked around on tip-toe, terrified of the next outburst. His parents see their beautiful home disintegrating before their eyes. Another son begins bringing home failing marks; another daughter becomes silent and withdrawn.

Kupat Ha’ir received the request and verified the details. The difficult situation at home is steadily deteriorating. The sessions the boy did have with a psychologist proved that he can be helped. There had been an improvement in his situation – but then the sessions came to an end due to a lack of funds.

In other homes, children are hungry for bread. Can we allocate funds for something other than food? And yet, are not the lives of this boy and his family hinged on the treatment he requires to the same degree as the lives of others are hinged on food?

The question is a heartbreaking, torturous one. To give or not to give?

•••

The Second Night of Chanukah. The Second Night of Chanukah. Two Flames in the Window. Two Flames in the Window. Two – a mother and her daughter.

Today Shuli went for treatment on her own. Her mother’s heart was torn to shreds. How, how could she send a very, very sick

כ“ק מרן האדמו“ר מויז‘ניץ שליט“א

מרן הגראי“ל שטיינמן שליט“א

17-year-old to the oncology ward all by herself to receive a very difficult form of treatment? How could she send her off to suffer on her own, to vomit on her own, to feel awful all alone, to cry all alone? The thought was too terrible to contemplate.

Shuli is the oldest in the family, and when both Ima and Shuli are away, the younger daughter has to watch the little ones.

If only Abba was with them… but he isn’t. They’re on their own, and Shuli is so sick. The treatments are Gehinom on earth and in the meantime, there has been no improvement in her situation. She’s growing weaker every day. Even the traveling is too difficult for her. Shuli’s mother can’t afford to pay for taxis. Usually, she and Shuli take the bus to the hospital. When Shuli’s finished treatment, she and her mother wait in the lobby until Shuli feels strong enough to travel back home.

And today she’d have to do it completely on her own.

Her mother had embraced her. “Be strong,” she’d whispered, her voice breaking. Shuli had struggled to look strong, if only for her mother’s sake. She didn’t know why her mother hadn’t been able to accompany her today, but she didn’t ask. There

had to be a good reason. She’d averted her eyes so that her mother wouldn’t see the fear threatening to overwhelm her.

Suddenly, she spotted her mother. For a moment, she was unsure it was her, but there was no mistaking that walk … Ima had come after all! Shuli felt immensely relieved. Why wasn’t Ima coming in? Maybe she was talking to the doctors and nurses and she’d be with her in a moment. The trembling diminished. The terrible fear of being alone relaxed its grip somewhat. But Ima wasn’t coming in.

Shuli gripped her IV pole and forced herself to rise. Waves of dizziness hit her again and again, but she overcame them. She made her way slowly down the hall.

Ima was….

Oh, Ribono shel Olam! Ima was there…

Now she understood everything.

it

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Now she understoodeverything. 22

17-year-old to the oncology ward had to be a good reason. She’dhhhh

Maranan Verabanan Maranan Verabanan the Gedolei Hador, the Gedolei Hador,

shlitshlit""aacontributing to Kupat contributing to Kupat

HaHa''ir on Chanukahir on Chanukahand illuminating and illuminating the darkness for the darkness for

thousands of families thousands of families in distress.in distress.

Now she knew why Ima hadn’t accompanied her, why she’d allowed her to go on her own. Why she hadn’t told her where she was going.

Ima was here, too!

Shuli returned to her bed as quickly as possible. The trembling and dizziness gave way to terrible, searing pain. Ima. The person dearest to her in all the world.

Soon Shuli would return home with the bus. She wouldn’t take a chance today and wait in the lobby. She’d manage, somehow, get home, somehow. The main thing was not to let Ima know that she knew.

But near the candles, facing Ima as she tried to say the words but broke down in sobs – for Shuli, for herself, for her husband who was no longer with them, for her family who was suffering so - Shuli would weep, too, for Ima, for herself, for their loneliness, for her life that was fast slipping away. When the heart is broken, the tears come. Two flames. Boiling tears.

Kupat Ha’ir is involved here, too. We can’t cure mother or daughter. But we can arrange for them to receive help, to see to it that there’s nutritious food at home, to provide taxi service home from the hospital after treatment. We can ensure that the burden of parnassah choking the mother eases somewhat, at least for the present. The poverty in the home cries out to the very Heavens; even the tragedy in the family can’t overshadow that. Their request is lying on the desk at Kupat Ha’ir and your contribution will go there and illuminate those broken hearts. Their new foundstrength, their relief, their will to live – will be thanks to your assistance.

•••

The Third Night of chanukah. The Third Night of chanukah. Three Flickering Flames.Three Flickering Flames.Abba, Ima and a baby, born dangerously premature.

Fervent prayers were offered up to Shamayim as fear and tension wreaked havoc on their emotions. There were ups and there were downs, and she sat at his side day and night, throughout them all.

In the meantime, the house deteriorated. She hadn’t been able to work for some time before his birth. He had hardly attended kollel. They’d

borrowed money and managed somehow. No one had maintained the house, and without a watchful eye, things had gotten lost or ruined. Prior to the special circumstances, they had just barely managed to preserve what they had. Now even that was impossible.

The preemie slowly grew stronger and it was possible to think about taking him home.

Now it was also necessary to think about a bris milah for the baby.

How do you make a bris when there’s no bread at home? How do you invite ten people when you can’t afford to put a single beverage on the table? The children had no clothes; she had nothing to take the baby home in; they were lacking the basics.

The responsibility was his. He went to the grocery. The grocer, a G-d fearing Jew, had sensed the family’s situation long ago.

“We’re making a bris tomorrow, be’ezras Hashem,” the avreich said quietly.

“Take what you need. I won’t write it down,” the grocer replied magnanimously, averting his eyes.

He took a bag and with trembling hands, placed inside a few rolls, two drink bottles, two containers of ready salads and a package of plastic plates.

How heavy were those bags? They might have been made of lead.

He went home, opened the leaves of the dining room table and lay the tablecloth on the table. He set the table with the plates and cups and arranged the napkins. He could invite ten Yidden so his son would have a kosher bris. So why was his heart so heavy? He felt he couldn’t go on anymore.

When his wife burst into tears over the clothing she didn’t have, over the baby formula that was nearly finished – with no money to buy a new package – he couldn’t contain himself any longer. He wept along with her, wept as he had never wept before. Soon

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4

their tiny baby joined in, his tears mingling with theirs.

Kupat Ha’ir is there for hem. When a family makes a simchah at home, they need to feel simchah in their hearts, too. There needs to be light; the joy should be palpable. Joy gives people the strength to forge ahead, to run their homes smoothly, to raise children who are healthy both physically and emotionally.

This family’s request is on Kupat Hair’s desk. Your contribution will decide whether or not it will be approved.

•••

The Fourth Night of The Fourth Night of ChanukahChanukahAbba, Ima and twin girls.

A normal, ordinary household, bli ayin hara. Cute, well-cared for kids and likeable parents. The father serves as a meishiv in a yeshivah during the evening hours and the mother is a homemaker. There are fourteen children, ranging in age from six months to nineteen years old.

The monthly budget requires a degree in engineering! Only a genius could figure out how

to cram all t h e family’s

needs into the existing framework of funds. There’s not an extra penny to be had. Every coin is spent exactly as planned. If a five-shekel coin is lost, someone will have to walk rather than use the bus. Anyone who can’t understand how it is possible to live that way should know that theoretically, Kupat Ha’ir could provide him with a long list of families who live precisely as described. When the washing machine died, this family borrowed money to pay for a new one and then repaid the loan with a hundred shekel per month. During those months, they made do without certain basic necessities at home. They bought one kilogram less fish each week, or one chicken for Shabbos instead of two (remember, we’re talking about 16 people!). They struggled, thanked Hashem for what they had and went on. People knew they didn’t have it easy but that they were scraping by. Sounds good?

Nighttime.

The mother left the room. Two fourth-graders longing to go on a class trip she couldn’t afford to pay for. There was nothing she could scrimp on in order to make it possible for them to join. They were such good girls, so understanding and undemanding. They made no trouble about wearing hand-me-downs or making do with the bare minimum. But the trip – the trip was something else.

She found them zipping up their backpacks and placing bottles of water in the freezer.

“Girls…?” She didn’t know what to say.

“Ima, we know there’s no money,” one of the twins says, looking at

מרן הגר“ש הלוי וואזנר שליט“א

מרן הגרמ“י ליפקוביץ שליט“א

to cram all t h e utdbt

o

to cram all t h e family’s

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her shoes, “but maybe…”

“Maybe what?” Her voice sounds a bit harsher than she intended.

“Maybe Hashem will make a nes for us?”

A lump forms in their mother’s throat. What should she say?

She tells her husband and neither of them have a single word to say to one another. The night passes slowly. He tosses and turns; she turns her pillow over again and again. True, parents must be strong, but even parents have their breaking point. In the morning, both parents hear hesitant whispers. The girls have risen. The mother rises and peeks out of her room. The girls are dressed, their hair brushed as they sit near the table on which the telephone rests. Would their yeshuah come in time?

Fortunately, their teachers figured out, at the last moment, the reason why the twins hadn’t shown up for the trip. They called home, told the mother that payment had been arranged and had the bus pass by the girls’ house to pick them up. The girls’ joy knew no bounds. But that evening they wrote a letter to Kupat Ha’ir.

The situation Kupat Ha’ir found when it stepped in to investigate was not very encouraging at all.

Dental treatments had been delayed time and time again. Urgent plumbing problems hadn’t been taken care of, making life unbearably difficult. Food was minimal; the children were not allowed to help themselves to anything – not even an additional slice of bread – on their own.

No nosh, no prizes, no gifts, no new clothing, no trips, no traveling anywhere on Chol Hamoed, no and no and no. Is it possible to raise emotionally healthy children this way?

The parents have done everything in their power.

Now we need to do everything in our power!

•••

The Fifth Night of Chanukah. The Fifth Night of Chanukah. Five Flames.Five Flames.One mother and four girls.

She has four daughters. Four girls who can go out together and return home together, who play and have a good time together and act as company for one another. Four girls who can be dressed alike in matching clothing and look so cute when they walk together. Four

girls in a row – isn’t that just so nice?

But when the family broke up and the father took off and disappeared, the rosy glow turned a dismal gray. Soon a month passed, and then half a year and then a full year – and the situation remained hopelessly bleak.

A mother raising girls on her own encounters many difficulties. Her loneliness is intense. She bears the burden of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y for the c h i l d r e n completely on her own. Her family suffers: there is no father figure to offer g u i d a n c e ; there is no kiddush or havdalah or the sound of Torah study. The home is not complete.

But harder than anything else, the mother says, is managing the budget. All she has is a government allotment for each child – a total of approximately one thousand shekels each month. That’s all! It’s not enough to meet even the most basic necessities of water, property taxes, gas, telephone service (almost exclusively for incoming calls) and tuition.

What about food? Shoes, clothing, an electric tea kettle (NIS 49) to replace the one that broke, a new mezuzah to replace the one that got wet when she was cleaning for Pesach and became pasul? How can she purchase a nosh for her child to distribute when it’s her turn to be the Shabbos Mommy in gan? How can she pay for dental treatment – two fillings for one child and a root canal for another?

You can’t do any of that with a thousand shekels a month, not even if you really, really try. You just can’t do it!

She goes downstairs to the grocery in the morning while her girls are still asleep and buys bread (how long will it last?) and a bag of milk (crucial for children’s growth). At more than six shekels, a container of cheese is out of the question. The girls have been begging for chocolate spread for the past two weeks. If she can’t buy cheese, she must spread something else on their bread. Otherwise the teacher might figure out what’s going on. But there’s no money!

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She looks longingly at the cans of tuna spread. Delicious and nutritious. Impossible. In the meantime, it begins raining outside and her stomach knots with tension. One umbrella broke a few days ago and there’s only one left. One umbrella for four girls. There’s no way she can afford another umbrella. She averts her eyes from the rain and calculates how much the bread and milk combined will cost. She knows the price of each item by heart, but still, her breath catches in her throat when she arrives at the total. At this rate, there won’t be any money left at all during the last week of the month. They’ll have to have a week-long fast!

And so it goes, day after day, month after month.

Kupat Ha’ir knows that the request is legitimate. It’s impossible to live this way. It’s hard enough for a woman to raise children on her own; she can’t waste all her energy on scrimping down to the last penny only to find that she still doesn’t have enough.

The request can be found in the stack of requests prepared for the Zos Chanukah meeting of the Rabbanim. Will they approve the request? That depends on you.

•••

Six Candles. Six Candles. Six Flames, Six Flames, Six Branches.Six Branches.Six large, heavy tears. A father and mother and four children.

“I’m not requesting support.”

The man’s voice trembled as he spoke. The secretary at the office handling requests for assistance cringed in her seat. It was obvious that the caller was on the verge of tears. He sounded intelligent and professional.

“I work as a practitioner of alternative medicine,” he related. “Baruch Hashem, I’m doing quite well. I have a respectably large customer base. I mean, I have work. But I have a problem and everything’s getting knotted up into one big tangle.”

The secretary asked him to start at the beginning and speak slowly and clearly.

They have four children. Their children used to be well cared for and well-dressed, down to the latest accessories. But everything changed when the youngest child was born. The mother fell into a deep depression – so deep that her life was in danger. His Rav told him he had to stay home with her. Most days, he doesn’t even go daven with a minyan. His source of parnassah, obviously, dried up.

“All I’m asking for is money to buy my wife the medication she needs,” he whispered in humiliation. “Otherwise I’m afraid I’m going to lose my sanity, too.” “Maybe, if she gets better, I’ll be able to go back to work, at least part of the time. Maybe there’ll be food in the house. Maybe she’ll feel better if things get back to

normal. But

כ“ק מרן האדמו“ר מבעלזא שליט“א

מרן הגר“ח קנייבסקי שליט“א

ther n.

normal Butnormal. But

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more than anything else, she needs medication.”

The secretary’s eyes filled with tears. Here was a successful man, a doctor, a husband and a father of four children…

And no one “on the outside” had any idea what he was contending with!

Kupat Ha’ir wanted to approve his request to purchase medication. But medication was not the path to salvation. His wife needed proper, supportive treatment in order to become a good mother to her children once again. She needed assistance to make things easier for her. The family needed help crossing this difficult period in their lives.

For the price of “a little bit here” and “a little bit there,” the children will get their mother back again.

How can we not do this for them?

•••Seven Flames. Seven Cries. Seven Flames. Seven Cries.

Seven Shouts.Seven Shouts. Two parents and five

children.

A home with five small

c h i l d r e n can be a happy, lively place, with p a j a m a s put on b a c k w a r d

and kids who prepare a surprise for Ima and get into bed, peeking out from between their fingers as they cover their eyes while reciting Shema.

But a home with five children can also be a miserable, broken, pathetic place. It can be a home devoid of joy, a place where tears and frustration and bitterness are constant guests.

Such a home is the one where the mother was paralyzed as the result of a stroke. She cannot move most of her limbs. Half her face is paralyzed,

too. She can’t eat or stand on her own, never mind care for the children.

The poor father, whose world

crashed down around him one bright day, doesn’t know what to do first. Should he go with his wife for treatment, although there really isn’t much hope, just to give her the feeling that this terrible situation won’t last forever? Should he try to raise her spirits in some different manner? Should he care for the children who cannot manage on their own yet? Should he go to work and bring home a livelihood? What takes priority?

Soon it will be Chanukah. He will stand near the flames, his family gathered around him. But there won’t be any doughnuts or dreidels or even a music tape, unless we provide good, constant, trustworthy help. Help that will provide the mother of the house with support, help that will put the family back on track and free the father to earn a living.

In the meantime, the kids go to sleep wearing the same clothing they’ve worn all week. They forage for food on their own. They absorb the tension between the parents and behave in a manner that clearly stems from extreme distress. Now it is still possible to turn the situation around…

•••

Eight Flames. Eight Eight Flames. Eight Suffering Children.Suffering Children.The news was so exciting that they all flew out the door the moment they heard. Each child ran to a different neighbor to share the wonderful news of their double blessing. Their mother had just given birth to twins!

They were eight children – and now, two more! Their joy was boundless. They had no idea how short-lived their joy would prove to be.

A day after the twins were born, the mother was summoned to the doctor’s room at the hospital. She understood immediately that something was wrong – and she was utterly terrified.

The doctor was an elderly gentleman with lots of experience. He was very kind and gentle as he told her that one of the twins was seriously brain damaged.

“Be glad you have one healthy child,” a different, less sensitive doctor advised her. “At least you get to go home with one healthy baby. If you find you

Two parechild

A fiv

77

can’t handle caring for the brain-d a m a g e d child, you can send him to an institution and no one will be the wiser. After all, you’ll have a baby at home.”

She was furious with the doctor, then, for talking that way, furious at his lack of sensitivity.

Later, however, his words took on an incomparably bitter significance.

In middle of the night, a religious hospital volunteer woke her up from a deep sleep. “Pray,” she told her urgently. “Your baby is suffering severe respiratory distress. They found him completely blue. Pray. They’re working hard to save him.”

Her cries rent the heavens. The other women in the maternity ward awoke in alarm and joined her in tearful prayer.

“But he was sick… maybe it’s better this way,” her roommate whispered. “Better for his neshamah and better for you, too. You have children to marry off, after all.”

Once again, amidst the terrible distress she was feeling, she sensed that words like these were intolerable.

The doctor who came to see her found an entire ward of wakeful mothers surrounding a sobbing mother. He had no choice but to tell her that it was all over.

“Where is my healthy baby?” she asked. “I’d like to have him at my side now, at least,” she requested.

The doctor, the same young

doctor who had been in the room when she’d learned

that one of the twins was sick,

opened his mouth and closed it again.

How could he tell her that it was the healthy baby that had passed away?

At home, there were eight children waiting, and now they were joined by a sick brother. Their intense joy was replaced by deep sorrow. Their previously active mother returned from the hospital a broken woman. She stared listlessly at the walls, refusing to take an interest in anything. Her seventeen-year-old daughter tended to the baby and took care of the older children as well – until she just could not go on any longer.

The baby was taken to a suitable home. The mother couldn’t handle the separation. She travels there to be with him, leaving her home bleak and empty.

Eight children have had the world crash on their heads. They are miserable children who have lost their joy in life. The mother used to be the breadwinner of the family but now she hasn’t worked for months. The children have no food and no motherly love or attention. What will their Chanukah candlelighting session be like?

When Chanukah comes and your home is filled with light, please, remember these families, too!





כ“ק מרן האדמו“ר מנדבורנה שליט“א

כ“ק מרן האדמו“ר מטשרנוביל שליט“א

and

doctor who had been in the room when she’d learned

that one of the twins was sick,

opened his mouth and closed it again.

88

Candlelighting is an auspicious time t(ספה״ק)

Maran Hagaon Harav Aharon Leib Steinman, shlit"a, praying for contributors to Kupat Ha'ir at hadlakas neiros Chanukah.Maran Hagaon Harav Aharon Leib Steinman, shlit"a, praying for contributors to Kupat Ha'ir at hadlakas neiros Chanukah.

Maran Hagaon Harav Chaim Kanievsky, shlit"a, praying for contributors to Kupat Ha'ir at hadlakas neiros Chanukah.

Maran Hagaon Harav Chaim Kanievsky, shlit"a, praying for contributors to Kupat Ha'ir at hadlakas neiros Chanukah.

All names coming in during Chanukah until 9:25 a.m. (4:25 p.m. Israeli time) will be

submitted on that same day to:

• Maran Hagaon Harav A. Leib Steinman, shlit”a • Maran Hagaon Harav Chaim Kanievsky, shlit”a

to be prayed for during hadlakas neiros.

e to effect good things for Klal Yisrael

The Nadvorner Rebbe, shlit"a, praying for contributors to Kupat Ha'ir at hadlakas neiros Chanukah.

The Nadvorner Rebbe, shlit"a, praying for contributors to Kupat Ha'ir at hadlakas neiros Chanukah.

Maran Hagaon Harav Michel Yehuda Lefkowits, shlit"a, praying for contributors to Kupat Ha'ir at hadlakas neiros Chanukah.

Maran Hagaon Harav Michel Yehuda Lefkowits, shlit"a, praying for contributors to Kupat Ha'ir at hadlakas neiros Chanukah.

All names coming in during Chanukah until 11:30 a.m. (6:30 p.m. Israeli time)

will be submitted on that same day to:

• the Nadvorna Rebbe, shlit”a• the Rachmistrivker Rebbe, shlit"a

to be prayed for during hadlakas neiros.

A Small Story About Youy

You’re sitting at the table with your son, telling him the story of Rabbi Akiva’s daughter with great drama. “She pulled her pin out of the wall and what did she see? The pin had pierced a deadly snake! If she hadn’t stuck her pin in the wall, the snake would have killed her.

“Do you know why she merited a miracle like that?” you ask your little talmid chacham.

“Because she gave a poor man her dinner on the day of her wedding,” he replies, repeating what you’ve already told him on more than one occasion.

“That’s right,” you confirm with a smile. “What a zechus Rabbi Akiva’s daughter had,” you add for emphasis. “Giving a poor, hungry man to eat is a tremendous mitzvah. And the mitzvah of tzedakah has tremendous power – the power to rescue someone from death.”

Then you glance at the table and happen to see Kupat Ha’ir’s yeshuos brochure. Someone must have found it in the mailbox and brought it home.

“What nonsense,” you say dismissively. “There’s no such thing as ‘ I contributed and merited a yeshuah.’ It’s an exaggeration, that’s what it is. Kupat Ha’ir’s sales pitch…”

Evening. All over Eretz Yisrael, children are eating their evening meal. Thousands of mothers

are opening the fridge, frying eggs,

smearing spreads on bread, slicing vegetables. Thousands of small mouths recite brachos and eat heartily.

Quietly and discreetly, Kupat Ha’ir enters thousands of homes and provides the family’s evening meal. Thousands of broken, exhausted mothers smile with joy as they feed their children supper from Kupat Ha’ir.

Meals can be presented in a number of ways. Kupat Ha’ir presents meals via a bank account – and tens of thousands of good angels ascend to Shamayim.

This takes place not just one evening or two but every single day. It’s been going on for years to be precise, since Kupat Ha’ir was established. And it’s a lot more than just supper that Kupat Ha’ir provides.

One evening during supper hour, the door to a certain house slammed shut with a loud bang. To her horror, a young mother realized that the door had slammed on her Duddy’s fingers. The child paled and turned blue. The mother’s hands trembled as she tried to open the door, terrified of what she was about to see.

“Hashem, please, I beg you: please make it be just a little pinch,” she whispered, closing her eyes for a fraction of a second. “I’m contributing one hundred and eighty shekels to Kupat Ha’ir.”

Her thoughts stopped there. She didn’t dwell on the fact that she had just become a partner of Kupat Ha’ir. She didn’t consider that the merit of all the many families who are helped – was now in her name. She had stock in the company. She was a partner in the millions of shekels that Kupat Ha’ir distributes each year.

ads on

At that moment, as middas hadin hovered over her family, the thousands of hot evening meals eaten by needy families at that very hour came marching before Hashem.

Tens of thousands of angels of peace and charity created by Kupat Ha’ir descended to protect Duddy’s fingers.

He Who watched over Rabbi Akiva’s daughter watches over contributors to Kupat Ha’ir. Rabbi Akiva’s daughter contributed and merited a yeshuah, and Duddy’s mother did, too.

Later, Duddy’s mother will write a letter that you will eventually read at your table.

Laying the Cards on the Tabley g

“I don’t believe in such things,” you say.

That’s not what you said on the first day of Tishrei. You sang a different tune then. With complete confidence, you shouted so loud that the very windows in the beis knesses trembled. “Uteshuvah usefillah utzedakah ma’avirin es roa hagezeirah!” Why has that cry suddenly grown so weak?

Why has that cry become a half-baked stammer, a matter of “I do believe in such things” or “I don’t believe in such things?” Statistics show that on every average block in chareidi neighborhoods, at least one person has contributed to Kupat Ha’ir and witnessed a yeshuah.

Decrees are absolved in the merit of charity. The Ribono shel Olam determined that rule a long time

ago. Kupat Ha’ir is a huge tzedakahorganization supported by Klal Yisrael both in Eretz Yisrael and abroad. It is a tzedakah organization that belongs to all streams of Jewry. It is a tzedakah organization that is completely leshem Shamayim. It’s no wonder that a contribution to such an organization leads to a yeshuah.

What more do we need than the words of Maran Rav Chaim Kanievsky, shlit”a: “Hakadosh Baruch Hu sends yeshuos to those who contribute to Kupat Ha’ir because He wants people to contribute more.”

We wanted to lay all the cards on the table.

Quite simply, we see the facts.

This is a phenomenon so spectacular that even we cannot help but be amazed. What we are about to reveal serves as an answer to the person who challenged us to print all the letters we receive, with no exception, in a special brochure.

Dear writer, in order to print all the letters, we’d need porters to carry cartons to every house, and you readers would need a large new closet in which to house them.

A Summary

The letters are kept in folders, sorted by category.

27 “foreign objects” were dislodged from eyes after

At that mmoment as middas had

a contribution to Kupat Ha’ir. 315 complicated surgeries were avoided. 7

fish bones were dislodged from throats. 42 children were rescued from near-drownings.

113 mothers who were fearful about the welfare of their infants feel they owe their child’s good health to Kupat Ha’ir.

The above is a mere peek into the “Medical” folder.

153 diamond rings adorn the fingers of owners who had despaired of ever finding them. 13 shtreimels top 13 Chassidic heads on Shabbos and Yom Tov. One stolen bundle of bills - NIS 20,000 in total – has been returned to its owner. 409 “stuck” shidduchim continued on to a happy conclusion. 248 (!) earrings, 92 gold watches, 36 brand name watches, 54 bicycles - 28 of them speed bikes – were reunited with their owners. Hundreds of barren women have given birth. Dozens of youths were spared being left without a suitable educational framework. 111 pairs of glasses, 22 of which were lost at the beach.

We’ll stop before you grow weary.

And we haven’t even told you about the other folders. Take the Travel folder, for example, where lots and lots of drivers (all who request that we publicize their letters anonymously) report having avoided fines.

How many cars were spared accidents; how many avreichim or students did well on various tests; how many mothers sent their children on trips only after promising to contribute when they returned home safe and sound.

This is a good opportunity to tell the hundreds of people who asked that we publicize their story anonymously “because we promised to publicize the miracle” that we cannot publicize thousands of yeshuos stories. We choose from the stories that come with a full name or provide a phone number. This is important so that the public can verify the veracity of the stories for themselves.

Are There Yeshuos Or Are There Not?

You decide.

We’ll provide the information and you reach your own conclusions.

We’ve culled six stories from our collection of letters. The stories took place in all sorts of interesting settings: an elegant eye clinic, a mikveh at Beis Medrash Or Hatzafon in Yerushalayim, on the 402 bus from Bnei Brak, in a residential building in New York… and you’ll see where else.

How can you know that these stories really occurred? There’s no beis din where we can swear to it but there are telephone numbers and people who are willing to confirm the stories.

This is exactly the way the stories occurred. We have not exaggerated.

Let’s begin with Story No. 1. When you finish reading it, you’ll know how it’s different from all other stories.

At C.W.’s house, eye patches are part of the scenery.

When he learned that his oldest son was severely cross-eyed, C.W. did what any chareidi person who requires medical assistance does: he contacted askanim. The askanim did what askanim do best: they referred him to the best professor in the field. The professor treated the problem with utmost professionalism – and demanded a rather steep fee for his services.

The boy grew older and as time went on, it became obvious that some of his siblings suffered from the same problem.

This time there was no need to turn to askanim. C.W. knew the right man for the job himself. He scheduled an appointment with the top professor for his other children.

Since then, visits to the eye clinic have become the norm. Payments of four hundred shekels per visit have become the norm, too. It isn’t easy, to say the least.

One day, C was sitting in the waiting room with his young daughter. Suddenly, with no advance notice, an interesting thought struck him: what was the least amount of money the professor had ever charged him for a visit? He did a mental check and arrived at the answer: three hundred shekels. That was the smallest sum he’d ever paid at this eye clinic.

Something very interesting occurred at the eye clinic at that moment. C sat there, his face giving no sign that he was entertaining a rather radical thought. If the doctor charges me less than three hundred shekels for this visit, he thought to himself, I’ll contribute the difference to Kupat Ha’ir.

He made the commitment with no intent of personal gain. He admired Kupat Ha’ir and felt goodwill toward the tzedakah organization run by the Gedolei Hador and he wanted to help. Maybe this time the doctor would surprise him and charge, say, two hundred and fifty shekels, leaving Kupat Ha’ir to gain fifty shekels? Such a thing had never happened before, but….

C entered the doctor’s office with his daughter. The professor examined her, explained his findings, inserted eye drops, covered the child’s eye with a patch and was about to wish father and daughter a good day.

“How much do I owe?’ C asked, the way he did at all visits. This time, a note of curiosity had crept into his voice. I wonder how much Kupat Ha’ir will gain from this story.

The professor did not even smile. “Nothing,” he said firmly.

I was shocked. This was an open miracle, C writes in his letter. Never before had anything of this sort happened with this professor. I wasn’t hoping to gain anything – I’d made peace with the expense already. Hakadosh Baruch Hu arranged it for Kupat Ha’ir. Enclosed please find NIS 300.

I’d be pleased to have you publicize this story.

For verification: 050-413-3785

A man makes a promise in a waiting room and sees for himself how much Hashem loves Kupat Ha’ir. NIS 300 goes to tzedakah instead of to a professor’s bloated pocket…

for life and a

good livelihood

prayers180

1-866-221-9352

MMMeesssengeerrs ooff Kupat HHHa'ir wiill prayy on yooouur bbehaalff duuuring 8 ddaaayes off Chanuuukah

118800 ppraayyeerssatt ttthee KKosseel HHaammaa'aarravi

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$180 per name

Suri, a young girl from New York, found her yeshuah in an empty hallway,

at the entrance to a building.

A Story With A Chassany

“Nu, so what’s new?”

The woman addressing Sari was rocking a baby carriage back and forth. Her children, boys and girls of various ages, were milling about her, playing tag, arguing, making up.

They used to be in the same high school class. Today they occupied separate worlds.

Suri’s friend, the mother of seven children, was on her way to Savta’s house.

Suri was still single. The “still” was long and painful.

“How are you?” Suri asked. “Do you keep up with anyone from school, from our class?”

“School? Our class?” The mother grasped three little pairs of hands at once. She looked at Suri with an expression that was a mix of astonishment and pity.

Another few moments of stilted conversation passed before the two women parted. The mother proceeded slowly down the block, her seven children in tow.

Suri, for her part, returned to the place she’d called home since she was a child. Her mother was an elderly woman by now, but she still had Suri, her

32-year-old daughter, attached to her apron strings.

Waves of frustration overcame her. She couldn’t go on anymore. She simply couldn’t bring herself to enter the building

where she lived. She so badly

wanted to give her p a r e n t s

nachas, to

build generations. She wanted at least as badly as everyone else to have her river flow forward. She wanted to break walls, bash them down with force. Now. Right now. Even before she went upstairs.

She was already an expert at controlling her tears. The time was long over when she would spend hours sobbing over her fate. Most of the time, she wore a pleasant smile. Sometimes the smile was a mask; sometimes it was real. But now, downstairs, there was no smile on Suri’s face, neither real nor artificial. Tears overcame her.

She’d done everything, tried everything. She’d done every segulah under the sun. She’d received blessings from everyone possible. She’d requested forgiveness from anyone who might have borne her any ill will. She’d made kabbalos and promises. What more could she possibly add now? What could she do to help herself? What would tip the scales in her favor? Which zechus would open the locked gates of Shamayim for her?

“Hashem,” she whispered to the walls of the hallway, her heart contracting with anguish, “I promise, bli neder, that if I get engaged by January 1, 2009, I’ll contribute $250 to Kupat Ha’ir. In the merit of the mitzvah of tzedakah to such a special organization, please…”

Suri’s prayer rose from the building in New York and ascended heavenward.

We’re mere mortals; what do we know about the greatness of prayers in Shamayim? Suddenly, Suri belonged to the ranks of those who eased the lot of so many desperate Yidden. She’d invoked Kupat Ha’ir, the largest tzedakah organization in the world. Even she had no idea just how beloved and esteemed Kupat Ha’ir is in Shamayim.

Suri climbed the stairs to her house and let herself in. Her parents were asleep. She felt so terribly lonely.

Suri had no idea what was going on beyond the star-strewn black sky outside. She was not aware that she was no longer alone. She would never be alone. She was now part of Kupat Ha’ir. She’d made a promise in a moment of bitter despair but she was still in the dark about the power of her words. When you’re a part of Klal Yisrael, everything’s easier.

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Donations can be sent to:

Rabbi Chaim Leib Epstein Shlita

1608 46th Street

Brooklyn, New York 11204

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1336 East 21st Street

Brooklyn, New York York 11210

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1248 East 12th Street


Kupat Hair4415 14th Avenue

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North Miami Beach FL. 33162

Suri’s letter to Kupat Ha’ir can be found at the offices of Kupt Ha’ir in Bnei Brak. The story is related very briefly but the words ring with joy. She would like to pay a debt of $250, she wrote. We don’t know Hashem’s calculations, His reasons for running the world as He does. But we know the facts: After twelve years of longing and segulos, on December 29, 2008 – precisely three days before the date Suri specified in her promise – tzedakah tipped the scales in her favor.

A new melody, joyous and moving, washed through Suri’s home, sweeping up Suri’s parents, herself and the wonderful chassan she merited.

Suri’s story is just one example from the Shidduchim folder. There are many, many other, similar stories of shidduchim that came about after a contribution was made to Kupat Ha’ir.

But “I contributed and I saw a yeshuah” is not the suitable thing to say only during times of unbearable distress – at the age of thirty-two, or on one’s deathbed, or when you need a doctor’s opinion. “I contributed and I saw a yeshuah” is a very useful, routine slogan that has integrated itself into the daily schedules of countless people. It proves itself over and over again. Many thanks to M.B., who told us about his “I contributed and saw a yeshuah” moment.

For Verification: 181845919109

The Thief

“Cops and robbers” often go together. M of Tzefas has proven that a contribution to Kupat Ha’ir works on cops.

A.Z. of Modi’in Ilit sent us his amazing story, which demonstrates that robbers, too, are under the “spell” of contributions to Kupat Ha’ir.

A left the mikveh at Beis Medrash Or Hatzafon in Yerushalayim. He had no idea what had transpired during the few moments he’d been unavailable. An unsavory character had loitered around the area, taken whatever had captured his fancy and left.

A scanned the row of hooks, looking for his suit. It was

gone. He checked more carefully, lifting other garments and checking

labels. His suit was gone. He walked up and down the length of the wall over and

over again, feeling like an utter schlemiel. Someone had taken his expensive suit and everything in its pockets. What was he to do? A considered the extent of the damage. A very important key ring – gone. His cell phone – gone. His credit card – gone.

“What can we do?” asked a friend who happened to walk in just then.

“I’m contributing to Kupat Ha’ir,” A announced suddenly. “Fifty shekels if I find my pants with everything inside them.”

A few hours passed and someone found a suit on the floor behind the building. Apparently, someone had stolen it. For some strange reason, the contents in the pockets were untouched. The suit and everything it contained returned to its owner intact.

Don’t breathe a sigh of relief just yet. There’s more to the story.

A different avreich had hung his suit on a hook just near A’s. That suit was stolen, too. That avreich, too, searched in vain. He, too, was at a loss for what to do. His pockets, too, contained pens, a checkbook and a cell phone.

Two avreichim, the same thief, similar suits. And one very major difference.

A contributed to Kupat Ha’ir while the other avreich did not.

Why didn’t he contribute? Maybe it simply didn’t occur to him.

Maybe he didn’t feel like contributing. Wasn’t it bad enough he had lost a suit; did he have to spend even more money on contributions? Maybe he didn’t believe in such stories, anyhow. He’d contribute a different time, when he was in a better mood.

The other avreich’s suit was found behind the beis knesses as well. Both suits had been tossed there together by the same thief. Both avreichim rushed

to reclaim their garments. But there was one major difference: The contents of A’s suit – his credit

card, cell phone and the rest – were all there. The pockets of the

other suit were completely empty.

For Verification: 050-411-2098

How Much is A Yeshuah?

Apparently, there are “bigger tzaros” than losing one’s suit at the mikveh.

The M family traveled to Mrs. M’s parents for Shabbos Hagadol. They boarded the 402 bus from Bnei Brak to Jerusalem with all their luggage and disembarked at Sarei Yisrael, where they flagged down a taxi to take them to Ramot.

As Rabbi M hoisted the suitcase into the trunk of the cab, he noticed something that nearly made his heart stop. The suitcase did not belong to his family! It was similar in color but wider and less flat. When had he switched suitcases with someone else – when they’d disembarked, or perhaps still at the crowded bus stop in Bnei Brak? Who knew where their suitcase was right then?

It was almost Shabbos. Ramot was some distance away. What now?

“Follow the bus, quick,” M instructed the taxi driver. The cabbie flew off but the bus had already disappeared. They didn’t find him at any of the bus stops. The meter was ticking, the kids were crying, Mrs. M’s mother was wondering why it was taking them so long to arrive. The sun was traveling westward. In the trunk of the cab lay a suitcase that did not belong to them while their own belongings were – who knew?

“I just cleaned the suitcase for Pesach,” Mrs. M noted gloomily. “I think I threw out the piece of paper with our name and phone number. Even if an honest person finds it, he won’t know whom to return it to.”

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at the central bus station. Their bus was there – but the baggage compartment was completely empty.

Faced with no choice, the family traveled to Ramot. Mrs. M calculated the loss of the suitcase’s contents: slippers and Yom Tov shoes, weekday clothes and Shabbos clothes for both summer and winter (because the weather at that time of year tends to be iffy, she’d taken everything). And how would she manage at her mother-in-law’s house without a change of clothing for the kids? Without being able to change out of her shoes and wig? Without pajamas for he kids? Without Shabbos clothes, without a robe, without Shabbos pants? Without diapers for the baby?

As soon as they arrived in Ramot, they opened the suitcase they had with them to see if they could find to whom it belonged. There was a baby bottle inside. The poor baby was probably screaming. There was Shabbos clothing and work clothing. Apparently, someone had intended to do some pre-Pesach work.

There was a tefillin bag with the letters nun and kuf embroidered on it. That was it. Suddenly, someone noticed a small sticker on the suitcase. It read: Silberberg.

The Ms decided to call all the Silberbergs in Yerushalayim. It was really an illogical thing to do: what if the Silberbergs who owned the suitcase had traveled to a family by a different name? And why did the tefillin have the letters nun and kuf if the family name was Silberberg?

In any case, Shabbos was fast approaching. There wouldn’t be time to bring their things to Ramot from a different neighborhood. And what if their suitcase had traveled to Beit Shemesh or Ashdod?

Mrs. M took up her post near the telephone as Rabbi M declared, “I’m contributing two hundred shekels to Kupat Ha’ir if we find our suitcase.”

Suddenly, between one Silberberg and the next, the phone rang.

“Did you lose a suitcase on the 402?”

“H-how did you know?” Mrs. M asked in amazement. “Where did you find it?”

Inside the suitcase was a small tube of eye ointment bearing a prescription label with all the M’s

information!

“Where do you live?” asked Mrs. M.

“Right here in Ramot Polin. We can meet downstairs in five minutes.”

“We paid two hundred shekels to Kupat Ha’ir for this miracle,” Mrs. M chuckled, still shaking her head in disbelief.

“Oh, really?” said the voice on the other end of the line. “We immediately contributed to Kupat Ha’ir but our miracle “cost” us only twenty shekels…”

For Verification: 052-764-3439

In a routine monthly operation, 4.5 million shekels left Kupat Ha’ir’s offices yesterday to be distributed among thousands of needy families. It is your privilege to contribute so that these astronomical sums be attributed to your name, too, so that this tremendous zechus protect you, too, from all evil.

Urgent requests are immediately forwarded to the home of the Gedolei Hador

Please make checks payable to: American Friends of Kupat Ha'ir

How do I donate to Kupat Hair?

1-866-221-935224 Hour Tzeddakah

hotline

Send your donation in the enclosed envelope.

Call the 24 Hour Tzeddakah Hotline (donation by credit card) at 1-866-221-9352 Fax: 1-888-633-2188Email: [email protected]

Send your donation to the Rabbonim in your area (see list on Envelope).

Send your donation to:Kupat Hair4415 14th AvenueBrooklyn, NY 11219

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In Canada

For all information or to receive a pushka call 1-800-233-2188 Our office number in Israel: 3-671-6994

Send your donation to: Montreal: Rabbi Y. C. Wenger Shlita, 2227 Goyer Avenue, Montreal Quebec H3S 1H1

Toronto: Rabbi M. M. Lowy Shlita, 240 Carmichael, Toronto Ontario M5M 2x4 Please make checks payable to: Canadian Friends of Kupat Ha'ir

Please fill in your Hebrew name and mother’s Hebrew name

Nachas from children

For children

For a refuah sheleima (speedy recovery)

For a zivug hagun (worthy mate)

Parnassah (livelihood) with ease

זרע של קיימא

פרנסה

זיווג הגון

רפואה שלמה

נחת מהילדים

Please daven on my behalf for:

chanukah 5770

Documents

rav kanievsky

rav chaims prayer

rav scheinbergs family

upcoming meeting

previous meeting

gedolei yisrael

torah giants

importance of kupat