Dear Matzav Inbox,
We’ve been told for years that we have a shidduch crisis. We’ve debated the age gap theory, we’ve restructured dating systems, we’ve hosted symposiums, podcasts, and panel discussions. And yet, the problem not only persists—it deepens.
But maybe the real crisis isn’t logistical. Maybe it’s not about the numbers. Maybe it’s about what we’ve become.
As Dr. Shmuel Waldman powerfully noted in a recent post, “We don’t have a shidduch crisis. We have a priorities crisis.”

Dear Matzav Inbox,
It’s not a blip. It’s not a temporary glitch. It’s a full-blown crisis—and it’s unraveling in real time across our communities, behind closed doors, in WhatsApp statuses, and in the silent shame of families who never thought they’d be the ones asking for help.
We’re watching middle-income earners—yes, those with degrees, jobs, and businesses—fall apart under the weight of today’s economic reality. People who used to donate are now requesting. People who once managed are now drowning. Rent. Tuition. Groceries. Car payments. Utilities. It’s all too much. And there’s no cushion left. No fund, no program, no miracle donor writing blank checks. Just pain, and people trying to hold it together.

Dear Matzav Inbox,
Why do we allow the shidduch process to consume us? Anyone in the parshah—whether for themselves or for their children—knows the crushing anxiety that accompanies the research phase of a potential match. How are we expected to determine compatibility from a resume? Is he like this or like that? Will her personality align with our expectations?

Dear Matzav Inbox,
I am writing to express my frustration with the ongoing disparity between cholov Yisroel and cholov stam products, particularly when it comes to basic dairy items like sour cream, yogurt, and butter.
Take, for example, Friendship’s OU-D sour cream, which is priced at $2.49 for a 16 oz pint. In contrast, a cholov Yisroel sour cream is often priced around $4.99 for a pint. The kicker is that the ingredients in the Friendship sour cream are simple: cultured cream, and that’s it. However, the cholov Yisroel versions are often filled with a list of unnecessary additives, including Modified Food Starch, Calcium Sulfate, Locust Bean Gum, Carrageenan, and Enzyme.

Dear Matzav Inbox,
In recent years, there has been an increasing usage of the term ahavas chinom—a phrase that, although widely understood in contemporary discourse, is, in fact, not a hashkafically correct term. The true expression, which should be used in its place, is ahavas Yisroel, which carries a deeper and more accurate meaning according to Torah sources.
The tikkun for sinas chinam is not ahavas chinam. It’s sina k’halacha and ahava k’halacha. I am always shocked at people publically discussing ahavas chinom, as this does not seem to be a Torah idea or ideal. Who we love and hate is supposed to be dictated by the Torah.

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz
Face it. Life has its rough patches, days when nothing seems to go as planned and everything you do leaves you feeling frustrated.

Dear Matzav Inbox,
I can’t be the only one who’s fed up with the flood of tzedakah brochures that get sent home for our children every Purim. It’s bad enough that these organizations know no bounds when it comes to fundraising, but now they’ve figured out how to rope in our kids with promises of prizes if they raise enough money. And let me tell you, it’s not just the kids who are caught up in this madness — it’s us, the parents, who are left to pick up the pieces.
Every day for weeks leading up to Purim, our homes are flooded with brochures. “Raise X amount, get a prize!”

Dear Matzav Inbox,
It is beyond time that we address the disturbing trend of people – both children and adults – using fireworks on Purim. This is NOT a minhag tied to the Yom Tov, nor does it have any place in the celebration of Purim. Fireworks are an absolute sakanah, a danger to both those using them and those around them.

Dear Matzav Inbox,
Each year, as Purim approaches, we eagerly anticipate the sacred and joyous mitzvah of hearing the Megillah. It is a time to celebrate and relive the miracle of our ancestors’ deliverance from the evil hand of Haman. But, unfortunately, a growing trend threatens to overshadow this special occasion. As a parent and a member of our Yeshiva community, I feel it must be addressed before it becomes even more pervasive: the incessant noise during the Megillah laining.

Dear Matzav Inbox,
As Bnei Torah, we strive to follow the gedolim, to live by the Torah, and to dedicate ourselves to Torah. We raise our children to be true yerei shamayim, to follow in the same path. We take pride in the values that define us, and yes, we don’t send our boys to the army, as we believe in protecting their spiritual growth.
But, we must ask ourselves – do we truly feel the pain of our brothers and sisters? Do we truly internalize the suffering of those who are in the trenches, of those whose sons, husbands, and fathers are fighting day and night for our safety?