In response to the letter from “A Hopeful Jew,” who wrote a letter alleging that bochurim only wanting to date younger girls, I have to say—I get the frustration. I really do. But frustration doesn’t justify spreading misinformation about the shidduch crisis, especially when we finally have a real, data-backed plan to address the issue. The last thing we need is for misleading narratives to derail efforts that can make an actual difference. Our approach to the shidduch crisis cannot be about feelings, speculation, or half-baked theories. They must be about cold, hard facts. The OU’s Center for Communal Research, commissioned by The Shidduch Institute, has provided real numbers that expose the myths plaguing the conversation. And it’s time we faced them.

Another day, another reckless stunt from Shuvu Banim. This time, nearly 800 of their followers, along with members of the Breslov community, gathered at what they claim is the kever of Rav Ashi—right along the Israel-Lebanon border, in a highly sensitive military zone. The IDF, already stretched thin dealing with real security threats, was tasked with escorting them to this so-called “holy site.” But there’s just one glaring problem: there isn’t a shred of evidence that Rav Ashi is buried there. Rav Ashi, the great Amora who played a pivotal role in compiling the Gemara, lived and died in Bavel. Every serious historical and Talmudic source supports this, and none place him in Eretz Yisroel, let alone on the Lebanon border.

I was surprised to read the letter decrying the incentives being offered to children to fundraiser for tzedakah organizations. The letter writer, while I’m sure well-intentioned, seems to have entirely missed the main issue that he was so clearly pointing to. You’re upset about the prizes. You think they’re corrupting our children, turning tzedakah into a transaction rather than an act of chesed. You believe that without these flashy incentives, kids would be learning to give for the right reasons, and that these campaigns are destroying a generation of gomlei chasadim. You’re wrong. Not because it isn’t tragic that children today need to be “bribed” to do something good, but because you’re completely missing the reality of the world we live in.

Who am I to challenge the gedolim of our generation? I say this with complete sincerity—I have the deepest respect for our rabbanim and roshei yeshiva, whose wisdom and guidance shape our communities. The ongoing initiative to address the shidduch crisis is undoubtedly well-intentioned, driven by a genuine concern for Klal Yisroel. And yet, I cannot stay silent. Because while I respect our leadership, I also respect the thousands of bnos Yisroel who are waiting in pain, their lives effectively put on hold as the crisis worsens. And instead of fixing the root of the problem, we are now telling these girls to wait even longer. The proposed solution to the shidduch crisis is to delay girls from entering shidduchim for an extra year. Let’s be clear about what this means.

Take a good, hard look at the images in front of you. Not at the prizes—the dirt bikes, electric go-karts, and “trip of a lifetime” vacations—but at the message behind them. We have commercialized chesed. We have twisted tzedakah into a transaction. We are teaching our children that the only reason to help others is if there’s something in it for them. What happened to Yidden being gomlei chasadim—doing kindness for its own sake? What happened to the values we are supposed to instill in our children—that we give and help raise funds for tzedakah because we care, not because we expect to be rewarded? When did we decide that a child will only collect money if we bribe them with extravagant prizes? It’s no longer about giving to those in need. It’s about winning.

Much of the conversation about the shidduch crisis has centered around the age gap—a real and pressing issue. But there’s another factor at play, one that quietly distorts the dating landscape: the way financial support is distributed in our system. In the current model, boys—especially those from less affluent backgrounds—are not expected to provide financial support when they marry. Instead, they often find themselves benefiting from “marrying up”, securing matches with wealthier families who offer generous financial backing. This may seem like an advantage, but in reality, it creates a deeply unfair dynamic. By allowing boys from simpler backgrounds to pursue wealthier families, we are unintentionally shrinking the dating pool for girls from similar economic circumstances.

It’s no secret that eggs—yes, basic, essential eggs—are now hitting $9 a dozen. And with Pesach just five weeks away, the situation is only getting worse. Egg prices are expected to climb even higher. The most basic staple of our Yom Tov preparations, from cooking to baking to fulfilling minhagim, has practically become a luxury item. And let’s be clear—this isn’t just a Jewish community problem. Every single household in America is feeling the squeeze. Every store, every shopper, every struggling family. This is a national crisis. But for our communities, where Pesach shopping is already an enormous financial burden, this could be catastrophic. We have an opportunity. A responsibility. And the solution is staring us in the face: Where are our gevirim?

There are bad ideas, and then there are utterly absurd, Torah-defying, and self-destructive ideas. The suggestion that a $100,000 “kehila tax” be imposed on any girl who gets married before some arbitrary age dictated by community leaders falls squarely into the latter category. Let’s get one thing straight: Marriage is not a luxury. It is a mitzvah. It is not something to be delayed at the whims of bureaucratic kehillah enforcers wielding tax sheets like a shidduch resume. This proposal is not only foolish—it is a direct attack on the very foundation of Klal Yisroel. A young couple chooses to follow halacha and build a Torah home—and you want to fine them for it?! You want to place a tax on a Torah-observant Jew for following the divinely-ordained structure of Klal Yisroel?

There was a community effort recently to count how many older single girls we have. I heard that it was approximately 3,000 over the age of 25, and the askanim stopped counting after they hit such a number. BMG accepts about 1,200 new bochurim a year. This means that if everyone coming to BMG married an older single it would take at least two years to solve the shidduch crisis. Anyone who believes cutting three months out the yeshiva system alone will solve these numbers is clearly not comprehending the scale of this issue. As having the yeshiva system shortened drastically is unrealistic, clearly, we need a way to delay younger girls from entering into shidduchim. There is an obvious issue in doing this.

The recent discussion about the cost of therapy highlights a painful reality in our community: so many people need therapy but simply can’t afford it. Unlike other medical needs, where large communal organizations step in to provide financial assistance, no such system exists for therapy—because, frankly, it would be too expensive. But that doesn’t mean we should throw up our hands and do nothing. Instead, we need to think about solutions that make therapy more affordable and accessible in a way that is actually sustainable. 1. Supporting Those Who Are Already Helping A close friend of mine—a highly respected individual with a demanding job, a growing family, and a strong commitment to learning—once took it upon himself to help people in his shul afford therapy.