I assumed that I would walk out of the Crown Heights subway stop into throngs of Lubavitcher Hassidim surrounded by cheap kosher restaurants, Jewish ritual shops and stores selling stacks of identical black hats. Instead what I found on Sunday evening was an empty sidewalk save for a few men chilling on the front stoop of an apartment and a woman carrying home her groceries.

They weren't Jewish: this was the other side of Crown Heights.

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Is the guilty verdict returned against Sholom Rubashkin by a jury of seven women and five men in Sioux Falls, S.D., the ultimate vindication of those who condemned Rubashkin from the time allegations against the kosher meat giant Agriprocessors were first publicized? Few will look beyond the word “guilty” and the seeming enormity of 86 counts to see whether Rubashkin actually committed acts that deserve criminal condemnation and imprisonment.

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A friend of mine raised the irony of my standing along a column of rabbis who were waiting to register themselves for this year's International Conference of Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries. His sarcasm was not so much directed at my not being a celebrated shliach, as much as at my usual frill of skipping queues as a frequent flyer elite.

However, standing among rabbis and leaders who are my heroes, and champions of the Jewish people, meant lingering in the midst of the elite enlisted.

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The last time I was in Criminal Court was after the 1991 Crown Heights Riots, when I watched Lemerick Nelson walk free. I haven’t been interested in watching another criminal trial since. However, yesterday I went to show support once more for Jews, this time six of them.

Going to Court is an interesting experience. All I can say is, you don’t want to be a defendant. It must be a really terrifying feeling. However, the “Shomrim Six” (great title!) ARE on trial and we have to support them. I know that they are facing harsh punishment and loss of their freedom if they are found guilty and we can’t sit back, do nothing, and let that happen. We have to show our support. They’re not strangers. In our small community they’re our friends, family, neighbors, and co-workers. We HAVE to care and the way we can show that is two-fold.

Every family should give SOMETHING towards their legal fees. Some families can give more, others not so much, but everyone has an achryus to give. In the end, these young men come out to help us as soon as they’re called and they don’t ask to see the color of our money, or whether we wear yellow pins, or anything else. When push comes to shove, they show up to help all of us.

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Dear fellow parents,

I write this letter with tears and a heavy heart, having just heard about the loss of yet another Shliach's child. I can not help myself from asking but one question: Aibershter why?

The pain, the suffering, and the devastating void that these selfless Shluchim are experiencing is something that, as a fellow mother, I can only pretend to fathom.

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It came as no surprise when Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg was announced as mayor re-elect for his third term in office, but what was surprising was the much narrower win with which Bloomberg took the victory.

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This weekend, Shabbos Parsha Vayeira, over 800 students and 100 Shluchim and Shluchos will be coming bez"h to Crown Heights for the largest Pegisha of its kind in history.

As Shluchim on campus, many of my colleagues deal with great mesiras nefesh with a constant uphill battle, inspiring and serving hundreds of Jewish students each and every week. Around this time each year, though, we are reminded that we're not alone.

Seeing the unbelievable Hachnosas Orchim with which the residents of Crown Heights open their doors, take care of our students, and put up with all of the tumult that goes along with such an endeavor – especially knowing that this comes so closely on the heels of an already very taxing month of Tishrei – is the greatest reminder that Chassidim Ein Mishpocha, that we are part of a family of Chassidim who are true partners in our work.

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He was nicknamed “the outsider,” “the different.” The norm was his personal enemy. He resented the mainstream leaders of society, as he hoped to create a change of direction for people and a new destiny for the world.

His name? Abraham the Hebrew, literally meaning: Abraham, from the other side. He was so called, for as the Talmud teaches, “the entire world was on one side, and he, Abraham was on the other side." Indeed, a true revolutionary who changed the landscape of our globe and its history, through the noble notion of monotheism.

It is Abraham’s approach in this week’s Torah portion that has inspired us, the Hebrew nation, to challenge our environment, its habits and its cultures, and to always thirst for true purpose and meaning. And it is this approach that has led me to question the “Halloween” festivities that have already begun to flood the streets of this country. Are we to celebrate this seemingly innocent holiday? After all, as a dear friend mentioned to me, it is just like the Jewish festival of Purim!

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In 5733 the Rebbe refused to come out to the big Sunday Lag BaOmer parade planed for that year! How can I come out when certain things in the community prevent me from coming!

Its not politics, its human nature! People are human and wired a certain way. A very famous philosopher once said “the greatest need of a person is to be needed”. Chassidus and Yiddishkeit are supposed to show us how to live a life higher then der velt, and how Hashem wants us to control our selves and make this place a dira, to make a Kidush Hashem, to be a light onto the nations. Yet the bottom line is everyone still has a Nefesh Habehamis.

The Rebbe use to explain that the Yatzer Harah disguises himself as a big Chossid and a Talmid Chochum, in 5733 even in front of the Rebbe, human nature took over, no stories of the good ol’ days, no more if the Rebbe was still here B’gashmeus etc. its ALL BULL! We fought like babies then and were doing it now.

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It has been a year of tragedies. Will you help break the trend, or will the trend break you?

http://www.crownheights.info/index.php?itemid=18581
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Stop with the negative commenting, the slander, the justification...

A Pushka. A Tehillim.

Just a few examples of how we should react to these calamities. Think of a positive thing to say or do and share it with others. Take upon yourself a new Hachlata and ask Hashem to help out this community.

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It is nearly a year and a half since the government’s immigration raid on the Agriprocessors Plant in Postville, IA. This started a chain reaction that eventually brought bankruptcy to the company, and the interruption of the Shechita in Postville, the effects of which have been felt all over the world. The tidal wave of problems that began in Postville was most strongly felt in the New York Metropolitan Area where the price of Glatt Kosher meat rose at least 25% in the wake of the raid.

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This Op-Ed reflects the other side of the coin, a different look at the same event. This comes in contrast to this mornings “Op-Ed: Whose Event Is It Anyway?”

There's a solid wall in front of me, blocking me from the wind, keeping me warm. Bodies pressed up against me, in front, back, and all sides. Squeezing my friend's hand to make sure she is still there. Moving, swaying, tapping to the beat, because it's catchy, infectious. Head bobbing up and down, lips singing along with the familiar tune.

As the night goes on, reservations disappear, to be replaced with a surge of energy. Giddy, high on happiness. And yes, some alcohol to loosen up. Hidden in coat pockets, disguised in water bottles and juice. But hey, if it works for you.

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I guess the seven year itch theory is true. Or perhaps I was just being optimistic that things had, perhaps, changed for the better. Either way, I finally decided that after seven years of avoidance, I would risk venturing out to Kingston Avenue during Simchas Bais Hashoeiva. My objective was to observe and report on its current state, to determine if it was safe yet to bring my little children to participate in the celebration.

Would I be able to expose my children to the true and intended nature of the most joyous celebrations in Jewish history dating back to the Bais Hamikdash? Or would I be risking their safety by allowing them to be bombarded by what appear to be insane asylum escapees with smashed hats and beards that betray what they had for breakfast the week before, violently waving tattered yellow flags on broomsticks, while pushing and shoving in a circular fashion – their version of dancing?

As I approached Kingston Avenue, I first passed the children, teens and adults of all ages who, as in years past, were crowding around the on-duty police officers, marveling at the sight of a real gun. “Is that a real gun?” I overheard one young adult asking with a tone that betrayed a childish glee. “Did you ever shoot anyone?” asked another.

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As a young girl I was always fascinated by the beauty and mystery of the Mikvah experience. We were constantly told about the purity and holiness that the ritual brings to the individual, the marriage, the family and the home. I couldn’t wait to become a kallah and be able to finally participate in this exclusive and mystical experience.

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Everyone, listen to yourselves! This is a little long, but please hear me out, since this is very important!

As a 16 year old Lubavitcher girl born and raised in Crown Heights, I observe adults who are supposed to be my role models getting all fired up about such little things! With all due respect, I just don't understand why you'd be willing to give up Ahavas Yisroel, the most basic, fundamental principle that the entire Torah is based on and have such petty arguments!

Enough is enough!

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Before assuming his new post as Israel’s ambassador to the United Nations in 1984, Benjamin Netanyahu was guided by the Lubavitcher Rebbe who referred to the international institution as a “house of darkness.” The Rebbe encouraged Netanyahu to light a candle that would be seen from afar. Bibi was to serve, quite literally, as a ‘light unto the nations.’ Twenty years later, at the sixty-fourth UN General Assembly, Netanyahu spoke truth to power, and turned a house of darkness ablaze, as the Prime Minister of the Jewish State.

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As the sound of rain makes pitter patter noises at my window, and it conjures up an image of little feet in padded slippers, pajama bottoms, steaming cups of hot cocoa, wind, howling outside, thunder so loud it makes you bolt upright in the middle of the night, while you were having a sweet sweet dream, lighting that strikes so fast and so bright, for a second you are not sure if it is day or night. Almost like a pilot that can't tell the difference between sky and ground. Fingers tapping at the keys so fast they are getting ahead of themselves and tripping over the words. Excitement building inside of you, this bubble that grows and grows and feels like its gonna burst. Shivering with excitement, shivering with cold, shivering with lack of sleep. So many things colide together to form one great picture.

Walking down Kingston with friends, so happy to be in their company once again. Hearing a language that is foreign, yet so so familiar. Out of place, yet belonging all the same. The scent in the air, that feeling, that knowledge that something is about to happen. The human mechanism that tries to prepare for a blow, and yet can never duck quick enough. It is coming, oh yes, and we can't stop it. These times, they are almost upon us. You know of what I speak. You know, because you think about it too.

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The Crown Heights as we know it today, is diverse on their opinions in many matters. One of which is the Tishrei Orchim [guests]. Most are well aware of the great kiruv the Rebbe gave to his orchim, and many are in admiration of all those who spend of their hard earned money to be in 770 for Tishrei.

And perhaps in the point of being the Rebbes Orchim and orchim to 770 is precisely where the dissention amongst Crown Heights residents finds itself. If all of these people would truly have this matter ingrained in the depths of their hearts, that they are in Crown Heights as the Rebbes Orchim then much up of the pent up uneasiness amongst the locals would subside.

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I grew up in a Chabad House. Chabad of Tidewater to be precise. Throughout the years, hundreds upon hundreds of different people have come and gone. Some we remember quite well. For others, it may take a moment. But only a select few are etched in our everlasting memories.

Michael Allen Noeth was born to a Jewish mother and Roman Catholic father. Sometime after, his mother turned Roman Catholic and his father an observant Jew. Michael was a very gifted artist and joined the navy as a painter. His father requested he visit Chabad wherever his military duties lead him. In 1997, it was Naval Station Norfolk in Norfolk, VA. Michael was added to the catalog of people to stroll through our Chabad House doors. Instantly, he became a fan favorite.

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The following letter was written by a frum NYPD cop, and sent to his father-in-law. Names were omitted.

Dear Schver,

I just got home from working a triple shift- I went to work at 4:30pm on Sunday, and it is currently 1:20am on Tuesday. Nonetheless, I feel it is important to e-mail you concerning an incident which occurred tonight.

I was sent to the West Indian Parade Detail in Crown Heights earlier tonight, together with ten other officers. During a lull in the chaos the [revelers] on the street were creating, my Sgt. overheard me saying that the G. family had invited me over to eat by them. He was intrigued that anyone would want a cop eating over in their house in that neighborhood, and asked if he could join me.

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Dear Friend,
and whom this may concern,

With the most recent exposure of the “Martial Arts & Gun training” training story in the media, also now known by many other names - puns and embarrassing terminologies of which I was associated with - I would like to make some things clear. I will not go into the plethora of Torah sources for self-defense and the like rather address the issue at hand.

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The following is a letter that was sent out through facebook a few weeks ago by a parent that is having difficulties enrolling her child into a Lubavitcher Cheder in Crown Heights. In this letter the parent pleads for help in having her child enrolled in a school.

Shalom Friends,

I guess at the end, almost everything boils down to being someone's financial dilemma. However, this letter is not addressing one of those dilemmas.

To spill it out, my wife and I are sending this message to whomever we believe might be able to assist me in any way. Boruch Hashem, Shalom, our oldest son, has outgrown the moisad/school in Flatbush which he attended, and he came to the point where he is ready to go a proper Cheder. Unfortunately, Lubavitcher Yeshiva on Crown Street as well as Oholei Torah is completely full, or so they tell us.

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