I want to thank Yeshiva World News for its outstanding and respectful coverage of this year’s Adirei HaTorah event. The reporting captured not only the grandeur of the production but also the deep ruchniyusdik power and communal pride that defines this monumental evening. Adirei HaTorah has become more than just an annual gathering — it is a movement, a statement, and a declaration of priorities: that Torah and those who toil in it are the crown jewels of Klal Yisroel. Having attended each year, I can personally attest to the incredible energy in the room — the kavod haTorah, the achdus, and the powerful message that resonates beyond the walls of the arena. Every seat in the crowd speaks of reverence. Every face reflects admiration. It is an experience that leaves you uplifted for weeks. But this year, amid the music, the speeches, the celebration — something was noticeably missing. The dais. Once filled with a long line of prominent roshei yeshiva and rabbanim, it appeared far more sparse this time. While many distinguished leaders were still in attendance, the overall presence of rabbinic leadership had, for some reason, dwindled. And that made me stop and ask: Why? This isn’t a random community dinner. This isn’t a parlor meeting or a fundraiser for a single institution. Adirei HaTorah is a movement — one that provides real, tangible support to thousands of your yungeleit. It is a campaign that sustains kollelim across the country and strengthens the foundations of limud haTorah. For so many families — including those of rabbanim and roshei yeshiva themselves — the financial lifeline provided by the Adirei initiative is not an abstract cause; it is deeply personal and deeply needed. I am not a kollel yungerman. I don’t receive a check from the Adirei HaTorah fund. But I attend every year out of a sense of obligation and gratitude. My brothers, cousins, and neighbors do receive those checks. And as someone who believes in the primacy of Torah, I cannot imagine not showing up to support those who make it their life’s work. So the question is: if I feel that way, why doesn’t every single Rosh Yeshiva? We all know what happens when a wealthy baalebos makes a simcha. The Rosh Yeshiva clears his schedule. He shows up. He makes sure to be seen — because it’s a statement of appreciation, of loyalty, of relationship. And rightly so. So why should it be any different here? Adirei HaTorah is not just “a donor.” It is the donor. It is the lifeblood of countless kollelim. Without it, many roshei yeshiva would be struggling to pay their staff, their avreichim — their own talmidim. This event isn’t simply about honoring Torah in the abstract. It’s about honoring the very people who make sure Torah can continue to flourish on the most basic level. Shouldn’t that matter enough to clear your calendar? Shouldn’t that matter enough to take your place on the dais, even if it’s year after year? Shouldn’t the thousands in attendance — balebatim, yungeleit, teenagers, children — see the full force of our rabbinic leadership standing behind and with them, showing that kavod haTorah isn’t just a slogan, but a lived value? Let me be clear: this is not meant as criticism. It’s a plea. Adirei […]