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I’ve noticed that 99% of online posts about Frum Jews are negative. This includes Frum Jews complaining about each other. Every day another letter is submitted how Frum Jews…..
It’s time to balance out this negativity with some positive stories & real life positive attributes of living a Torah lifestyle.
I invite all of you to share your positive feelings about being part of this special group of people.
How living as a halachic Jew elevates you & is the most ideal way to live in this world.There are infinite stories about how living as a Torah Jew is the most ideal way to live and how it positively affects others. But that doesn’t “make the news”.
(Regarding living as a “halachic Jew”, that is a Maskilic formulation; the Torah requires living with both the proper hashkafa as well as with all the relevant halachos.)
I think this is a wonderful idea!
I have been a member of Chaveirim for many years. Every so often, someone will call on behalf of a non-jew, or a member will stop on the side of the road to help someone random. Very often, these people react with fear, because they are sure anyone stopping to help them is going to demand a large payment in return. They have never experienced chessed, which is such a regular part of all of our lives! I have had times where it takes me longer to explain that we just want to help people than it does to fix whatever their issue was.
A society that can handle true criticism, even a person that can’t handle criticism, cannot grow. You can’t know where you err if someone doesn’t tell you. And yes it hurts it will always sting. But ultimately it’s a good thing. And being real Is better then being perfect.
Our society is amazing, tho. No lie
I have too many stories to list here, but I will start with some-
– The nurse who told me that if she gets sick, she’s converting to Judaism
– The poshita yid, who very quietly pays tuition for a family of Yesomim, and no one knows (I know because my husband is involved and transfers the money, but he is not allowed to tell anyone who it comes from), and this poshita yid lives so simply you wouldn’t dream he has money.
– The hard-working neighbor who woke up in the middle of the night when my child had an emergency.
– My other neighbor, who bathed my kids and gave them supper every night for a week, because I was sick with Covid, and I was really not feeling well, so I didn’t have the energy to know or care until after.
– My new neighbor, who went out of her way to help my kids integrate into their new block. And she makes it sound like no big deal.
Etc, etc, etc….Frist there is the old man bites dog vs dog bites man.
One big thing though, is that we actually have the will to consistently have and raise children. Even as most societies with the exception of the Frum and Kazakhstan have gone into demographic collapse as there income rises. We have managed to make decent incomes while still having a blessed level of fertility.
Second is a very low violent crime rate even among the poor.
And of course our level of spousal faithfulness is off the charts.“And of course our level of spousal faithfulness is off the charts.“
Sorry to detract from the flow of this thread, but how do you know that’s not why frum people are getting divorced?
On a more philosophical level, a Rav working at an out-of-town college campus, mostly with Jews from NY published an article strongly advising parents to avoid American “tradition” of “going away to college” and send kids to a local college instead (undermining his own job),
Some mothers want to home-school their kids. Others have to work. If they work at school, they usually stick with the same subject and class for years. I know a mother who could not afford to stay home with her numerous kids. She taught for ten years from 1st grade to tenth to continue teaching her oldest child.
My son got critically ill on a trip to Spain, the Chabad Sheliach sent food for the week and hooked me up with a member of the local community [sephad] wo was liaison to the hospital and was with me for the entire time, Hatzolah Air flew us back with a crew mostly of MO and Yeshivish.
Williamsburg Hatzolah met us at the airport in mist of a snowstorm and took to the hospital, where the liaison [ a Klausenberger Chusid] came in a night to make sure everything went smoothly.
my son’s stay was over Purim, and we heard megillah from Lubavitcher bucherim went from room to room reading instead of having a good time, we had a Purim seduah from Satmar Bikur Cholim as well as shabbos meals.
The Bikur Colim room and apartment were run by a yeshivahisher from Queens with the back office run by MO from the Upper East Side.I was a recipient of chesed from every part of this great community of ours, the zechos of chesed that they gave should be a credit for a great new year
Common,
That’s an amazing story! I hope your son got better
Its of course hard to verify this, but everything corelated with faithfulness is off the chart so our best assumption should be that faithfulness is as well. I find it hard to believe that all the halachic gedarim like Hilchos yichud and Tzniyus don’t have a very significant affect compared to the general population.
At the time when cellphones were new, I asked a passing by charedi guy directions to a certain bus near thanah merkazit in Yerushalaim. He got out his pelephone and started calling his friends until he figured out how to find the bus.
On a shabbos, on a way from Yaffa gate to the Kosel, I saw two American shabbos-dressed teen brothers in a minor play/argument. A standing nearby traditionally dressed Arab addressed them in English: don’t fight on Shabbat. They stopped, embarrassed. I turned to the Arab and said “shabbat shalom”. He returned the greeting.
“On a shabbos, on a way from Yaffa gate to the Kosel, I saw two American shabbos-dressed teen brothers in a minor play/argument. A standing nearby traditionally dressed Arab addressed them in English: don’t fight on Shabbat. They stopped, embarrassed. I turned to the Arab and said “shabbat shalom”. He returned the greeting.”
On a related story, my Irish neighbor wishing me a gut yom tov when he sees me walking on shabbos and i wish him a happy new year on Jan 1, be we are veering far off the topic
@Coffee Addict, bh yes but I was a long road to recovery.
In addition to the above, I had tires fixed and gotten boost from Chavrim, shomrim helped help solve / prevent crime, all of KJ fire dept and most of Monsey, Woodmere and Lawrence FD are staffed by frum volunteers, there are pages and pages of gmachim
This is an essay that I wrote not so long ago. It is a bit long, but I think it captures the essence of our beautiful community.
Hidden in Plain Sight: What the World Doesn’t See About Orthodox Jews
In the heart of Brooklyn and across the towns of New Jersey, nestled within the infrastructure of modern
American life, thrives a world largely unseen and profoundly misunderstood: the Orthodox Jewish community.
Despite its proximity to media capitals, academic institutions, and centers of cultural discourse, this deeply rooted
and highly organized society has been largely ignored or misrepresented by the mainstream. This is not due to
intentional secrecy, but rather a complex combination of philosophical distance, cultural unfamiliarity, and a
media landscape predisposed to seek conflict over understanding.Mainstream discourse often prizes inclusivity, multiculturalism, and deep dives into global subcultures.
Documentaries explore the lives of monks in Tibet, memoirs unveil the hidden worlds of Amazonian tribes, and
think pieces dissect the moral systems of remote communities with care and nuance. Yet, when it comes to
Orthodox Jews—whether from yeshiva-centered communities like Flatbush, Lakewood, Monsey, Passaic,
Teaneck, or the Five Towns, or the vibrant Chassidic enclaves that span Williamsburg, Boro Park, and
beyond—the prevailing narratives are frequently reductive or even adversarial. The most visible portrayals often
come from those who have left the community, carrying with them personal trauma or ideological critique. While
every individual’s story deserves to be heard, the consistent elevation of only the “exit stories” creates a distorted
lens, as if the only authentic experience within Orthodoxy is one of escape.
This leaves the vast majority of Orthodox Jews—those who live full, joyful, spiritually ambitious lives within the
framework of Torah and mitzvos—largely invisible to the cultural mainstream. Instead of seeing the depth,
warmth, and intellectual sophistication of these communities, the outside world is handed stereotypes: the visibly
Hasidic Jew portrayed as quaint or extreme, or the emotionally repressed figure longing to break free from
religious “constraints.”What is overlooked is a diverse, disciplined, and remarkably resilient society. In Lakewood, New Jersey, tens of
thousands of men gather each day in Beth Medrash Govoha, the largest yeshiva outside of Israel, engaging in
high-level talmudic study with the intensity and methodical rigor of any academic institution. These men are not
relics of a bygone era, but thoughtful, articulate, often bilingual individuals living lives of spiritual and intellectual
purpose. They are training their minds to think analytically, to question assumptions, to build logical arguments
within the framework of halacha. This is not escapism—it is an elite form of scholarship built on centuries of
tradition.Surrounding the beis medrash is a growing infrastructure of frum-run businesses: in real estate, technology, law,
logistics, and finance. Offices in Lakewood, Monsey, and the Five Towns hum with commerce that is infused with
Torah values: daily minyanim, ethical business practices, respect for family priorities, and a constant sense of
accountability before Heaven. The fusion of professionalism and religious commitment produces a unique culture
of excellence without ego, ambition without arrogance.The Orthodox world also places enormous value on education—not merely as a tool for material success, but as
a lifelong spiritual pursuit. Boys and girls are taught from a young age that learning is a sacred task. Yeshivos and
Bais Yaakovs produce graduates who are not only literate in Jewish texts but carry with them a deep moral
framework and sense of communal responsibility. While some Orthodox schools offer only limited secular
studies, many graduates go on to become highly competent businessmen and women. Through natural aptitude,
real-world experience, and a strong work ethic cultivated by their upbringing, they succeed in fields such as real
estate, finance, healthcare, and logistics—often building and running enterprises of considerable scale. The
curriculum may not mirror public school models, but it fosters resilience, identity, practical acumen, and a clarity
of purpose rarely found elsewhere.Orthodox women, too, are often misrepresented. In reality, frum women are among the most dynamic forces in
their communities—running schools, leading chesed organizations, building businesses, managing households,
and serving as primary transmitters of Jewish values to the next generation. They are not voiceless, nor invisible;
they are foundational.Alongside these yeshiva-oriented communities, the Chassidic world—too often misunderstood as monolithic or
insular—has built its own vibrant, expansive network of spiritual and communal infrastructure. From Williamsburg
and Boro Park to Kiryas Joel and the rapidly growing Chassidic neighborhoods in Staten Island, Lakewood, and
throughout New Jersey, these communities exhibit astonishing levels of cohesion, devotion, and mutual
responsibility. Monsey itself is home to a broad spectrum of Orthodox life. It includes a major Chassidic
population, from Vizhnitz to Skver to Toldos Aharon, each contributing richly to the city’s communal character.
The Chassidic commitment to davening with intensity, to preserving Yiddishkeit with pride, to building
multi-generational families grounded in emunah and simcha—all of this is deeply moving, and often missed by
outsiders.Chassidic communities are home to rich dynasties of Torah leadership, powerful traditions of chassidus, and
enduring models of communal self-reliance. They have built neighborhoods, shuls, schools, medical support
systems, and commercial networks that serve not only their own needs but often provide help to others as well.
Whether it’s Satmar’s global network of humanitarian aid, Bobov’s yeshivos and kollelim, or Belz’s sophisticated
infrastructure in Eretz Yisrael, these kehillos are dynamic forces in the Jewish world, operating with vision, order,
and spiritual energy.Philanthropy is also a defining feature of frum life. Many Orthodox families, including those of modest means,
give generously and regularly to communal causes. Major tzedakah campaigns raise millions in a matter of
hours—often entirely within the community itself—supporting education, healthcare, and social services with
unmatched speed and efficiency. Acts of giving are not occasional gestures, but built-in expectations shaped by
halacha and minhag.And then there is the chesed. The social support systems within these communities rival any developed country’s
welfare model—yet they are entirely grassroots, funded by internal tzedakah, and powered by volunteerism.
Organizations like Tomchei Shabbos deliver food to thousands of families each week, ensuring dignity and joy at
the Shabbos table. Kupas Ezra and countless gemachim provide emergency financial aid, medical equipment,
interest-free loans, bridal gowns, and baby gear. Chai Lifeline and RCCS coordinate medical care with logistical,
financial, and emotional support, often stepping in before families even realize what they need.
Hatzolah responds to medical emergencies faster than 911, staffed by frum men with professional training and a
sense of personal responsibility for every Jewish life. Misaskim supports families in mourning with both logistical
help and deep cultural sensitivity. Chaveirim offers roadside assistance, locksmith services, and home help—all
staffed by volunteers, all free of charge. This is a world where the communal response to suffering is automatic,
efficient, and infused with rachmanus.This system is not ancient nostalgia. It is a modern miracle of organizational genius, communal cohesion, and
spiritual drive. It is built not on utopian ideals or government funding, but on generations of halachic obligation,
cultural memory, and lived Torah values. The foundation is the simple but profound idea: “Kol Yisrael areivim zeh
lazeh” — all Jews are responsible for one another.Integral to Orthodox life is a powerful and continuous drive for personal growth. Whether through the disciplined
introspection of mussar, the heart-centered elevation of chassidus, or the ever-present call to deepen one’s yiras
Shamayim, there is a constant aspiration toward refinement and self-transcendence. This focus on inner
development is not an occasional project, but a way of life. Thousands forgo material advancement to learn in
kollel, dedicating their best years to spiritual striving. Many more choose careers in chinuch—teaching Torah,
guiding students, and building the next generation—while receiving only a fraction of what they could earn
elsewhere. Their sacrifice is not rooted in lack of ambition, but in a deep desire to serve Hashem and shape Klal
Yisrael from within. Others work hard yet live simply, channeling their resources into tuition, tzedakah, and
avodas Hashem instead of luxury or leisure. This quiet heroism—of living with fewer comforts to live with greater
purpose—has few parallels in the modern world.Shabbos itself is a weekly re-centering of life around what matters most: family, faith, and rest. In a world driven
by screens and speed, Orthodox families step back for 25 hours to connect to each other and to Hashem. It is
both countercultural and deeply human—and it leaves an imprint on children and adults alike.
This intergenerational transmission of values, the seamless integration of past and present, is one of the
Orthodox world’s most remarkable features. Children are raised with respect for elders, and elders feel
responsibility for the young. Grandparents, parents, and children often live near one another, learn together, and
support each other with profound continuity. This sense of rootedness defies the modern myth that progress
requires detachment from tradition.The Orthodox world has also become increasingly engaged in political life—not as a monolithic voting bloc, but
as a community that understands the real-world impact of legislation on religious liberty, education, zoning, and
communal infrastructure. Orthodox Jews vote in high numbers, organize civic engagement through local
askanim, and participate in policy advocacy, particularly where it affects yeshiva autonomy, Shabbos
observance, and protection of religious rights. This engagement is deeply local and often pragmatic. In
Lakewood, for example, Orthodox askanim regularly liaise with municipal officials on issues like traffic planning,
school transportation, and housing development — not in pursuit of favoritism, but to ensure that growing
communities can live safely and functionally within local law. In New York, organizations such as Agudath Israel
of America serve as a bridge between the frum community and state or federal government, advocating for
policies that preserve parental choice in education and protect religious institutions from burdensome regulation.
This advocacy is carried out with respect for the broader society and without compromising the community’s
spiritual mission.And yet, this world remains largely invisible.
The failure to explore or even acknowledge this community is not merely a missed journalistic opportunity. It is a
failure of cultural imagination. In a society hungry for meaning, spiritual depth, and ethical clarity, the Orthodox
Jewish world quietly models a life of service, faith, humility, and purpose. It offers a counter-narrative to the
dominant culture: one that celebrates restraint over indulgence, duty over self-expression, continuity over
disruption.To be sure, the Orthodox world is not monolithic and not without its challenges. But the beauty of Torah life, the
cohesion of its families, the joy of its communities, and the sheer scale of its chesed infrastructure deserve to be
understood—not merely tolerated, exoticized, or critiqued. They deserve to be *seen*. Though diverse in
customs, dress, and even ideology, Orthodox Jews are bound by a shared commitment to Torah and mitzvos,
and a sense of mutual responsibility that transcends internal distinctions.It is time for new voices to emerge. Not to rebut the painful stories, but to complete the picture. We need authors,
filmmakers, and journalists who live this life to step forward and tell it as it is: complex, honest, and radiant with
emunah. We need the world to meet the Orthodox Jew not through the lens of departure, but through the lens of
commitment, resilience, and holiness in daily life.Because what has been built in Lakewood, in Boro Park and Flatbush, in Monsey, in Williamsburg, in Kiryas Joel, in Manhattan and Queens, in Passaic, in
Teaneck, in the Five Towns, and in every growing Chassidic enclave across Staten Island and New Jersey—simply does not exist anywhere else. And it is time the world knew.Non-Jews also recognize the greatness of the Jewish community.
I once had a few days of work meetings that were out of town, which ended on a Friday. As I couldn’t fly home on Friday afternoon, I reached out to the Jewish community where the meetings were. One coworker told me that she knew I’d manage, because “Jews help each other, you’re all one big family.” Another co-worker was amazed that I was willing to stay by a stranger that I didn’t know, and that someone would be willing to host a stranger! I explained that Jews aren’t strangers – we’re family.
I also had a time where I was downsized from a job, and my boss (who was also laid off) said to me, “you’ll be fine – I’m sure you have a Jewish network, and you all look out for each other! Someone in your community will help you find a job! I’m more worried about myself – I don’t have that kind of network, so I have to search on my own!”common > On a related story, my Irish neighbor wishing me a gut yom
A sephardi friend of mine always wished me “gut shabbos”, while I reply “shabbat shalom”. Less refined people look at us, confused.
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