Mr. Kory Bardash
15 August 2024
When I was seven, my family moved to Parsippany, New Jersey — a place that, at the time, lacked an organized observant community. Despite this, my parents took it upon themselves to establish an Orthodox synagogue in our home, the first in the area, while my siblings and I attended a nearby Jewish day school. With no religious neighbors and a limited support network, we were incredibly fortunate to be just ten minutes away from Morristown, New Jersey.
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In Morristown, we found a lifeline in its vibrant Chabad community. Spending time with the students of the yeshivah and other members of this close-knit community, we deepened our understanding of what we were learning in school and integrated it into our daily lives. In the summer of 1977, just before my Bar Mitzvah, I attended Camp Gan Israel in Morristown, run by Chabad, and it was an experience that left a lasting imprint on my soul.
By then, our entire family had grown close to the Chabad community in Morristown. One evening, towards the end of that summer, we received an unexpected call at home.
“We’re heading to a private audience with the Rebbe tonight,” a family friend told my father. “If you join us, you too can meet him. Are you available?”
“Absolutely,” my father replied without hesitation.
They picked us up that evening and drove us to 770. I can still recall the thrill of sitting in the car with my father and brothers, each of us buzzing with anticipation. What blessing should we ask for? What would the Rebbe say to us? That alone left a profound impression on me, along with every other detail of the journey — driving into Brooklyn, parking the car, entering 770, and waiting outside the Rebbe’s door. We even practiced the blessing one recites before seeing a great Jewish sage. I had seen the Rebbe once before, as a young child, but this time, I was old enough to grasp the significance of the moment.
We entered the Rebbe’s room in order — my father first, then my oldest brother, my second brother, and then me. And there he was, the Rebbe, seated behind his desk surrounded by letters, papers, and countless books.
The Rebbe addressed each of us in turn, starting with my father. They spoke in Yiddish, discussing our family history and my father’s early years in America. They also spoke about the Holocaust — my father was born in Germany in 1937, and he survived the war by fleeing east to Siberia with his mother. After the war, my father spent five years in a displaced persons camp in Bad Reichenhall. The Rebbe’s questions grew more specific: “Where do you work? Where do your children go to school?”
At that time, my parents had just welcomed their fifth child into the world. My father mentioned, “I would like to continue having children and to educate them in the Jewish way, but I seek a blessing that I should be able to support and afford Jewish schooling for them.” The Rebbe responded with a heartfelt blessing, wishing for my father to succeed in these endeavors and that he and my mother experience nachas from their children’s Jewish education.
After speaking to my father, the Rebbe turned to us, asking for our names and birthdays. Before this moment, I had never given much thought to my Hebrew birthday, but the Rebbe’s interest inspired me to learn more about it.
By this time, the Rebbe had switched to English, tailoring his words to each of us individually, based on our ages and interests. When I told him that my thirteenth birthday was approaching, he asked about my Bar Mitzvah preparations and my Torah portion. He emphasized the importance of putting on tefillin every day and then he gave me a special blessing which echoed the values my father had said were important in our family. He wished me to bring nachas to my family and the Jewish people, to build a strong, beautiful family, and to make a meaningful impact on the Jewish community and the Land of Israel.
That audience with the Rebbe came at a pivotal time for my family. Living in Parsippany, we had no local rabbi to guide us, and often we had to rely on the Chabad representative in nearby towns instead. Receiving the Rebbe’s blessings when we did gave us the feeling that everything would fall into place, ensuring that my parents would be able to continue supporting our Jewish education and that G-d would provide.
In time, my parents succeeded in providing a Jewish education for all six of their children. Today, all of us, along with numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren, are Torah observant.
The Rebbe’s blessing to me also shaped my life profoundly. I made aliyah in 1996 and married Yifat, whose family has been living in Jerusalem for eight generations. Together we have been blessed with five children, while being committed to making an impact on our community and wider society. I served in the army, becoming an officer in the IDF Spokesman’s office, and I’ve since became involved in the U.S. political system from afar. We also established ATARA, a social welfare organization that provides solutions to young religious women who have “aged out” of the foster system. The Rebbe’s charge to focus on making a positive impact and to strengthen the Jewish people has influenced every decision I’ve made, and his blessing has stayed with me throughout the years.
Residing in Efrat, Israel, Mr. Kory Bardash and his wife, Yifat, are the founders of ATARA. While working as a wealth manager, he also serves as the co-chair of the Republican Party in Israel, which mobilizes American citizens living in Israel to be politically active. He was interviewed in March of 2016.
When I was seven, my family moved to Parsippany, New Jersey — a place that, at the time, lacked an organized observant community. Despite this, my parents took it upon themselves to establish an Orthodox synagogue in our home, the first in the area, while my siblings and I attended a nearby Jewish day school. With no religious neighbors and a limited support network, we were incredibly fortunate to be just ten minutes away from Morristown, New Jersey.
Click here for full-color print version
In Morristown, we found a lifeline in its vibrant Chabad community. Spending time with the students of the yeshivah and other members of this close-knit community, we deepened our understanding of what we were learning in school and integrated it into our daily lives. In the summer of 1977, just before my Bar Mitzvah, I attended Camp Gan Israel in Morristown, run by Chabad, and it was an experience that left a lasting imprint on my soul.
By then, our entire family had grown close to the Chabad community in Morristown. One evening, towards the end of that summer, we received an unexpected call at home.
“We’re heading to a private audience with the Rebbe tonight,” a family friend told my father. “If you join us, you too can meet him. Are you available?”
“Absolutely,” my father replied without hesitation.
They picked us up that evening and drove us to 770. I can still recall the thrill of sitting in the car with my father and brothers, each of us buzzing with anticipation. What blessing should we ask for? What would the Rebbe say to us? That alone left a profound impression on me, along with every other detail of the journey — driving into Brooklyn, parking the car, entering 770, and waiting outside the Rebbe’s door. We even practiced the blessing one recites before seeing a great Jewish sage. I had seen the Rebbe once before, as a young child, but this time, I was old enough to grasp the significance of the moment.
We entered the Rebbe’s room in order — my father first, then my oldest brother, my second brother, and then me. And there he was, the Rebbe, seated behind his desk surrounded by letters, papers, and countless books.
The Rebbe addressed each of us in turn, starting with my father. They spoke in Yiddish, discussing our family history and my father’s early years in America. They also spoke about the Holocaust — my father was born in Germany in 1937, and he survived the war by fleeing east to Siberia with his mother. After the war, my father spent five years in a displaced persons camp in Bad Reichenhall. The Rebbe’s questions grew more specific: “Where do you work? Where do your children go to school?”
At that time, my parents had just welcomed their fifth child into the world. My father mentioned, “I would like to continue having children and to educate them in the Jewish way, but I seek a blessing that I should be able to support and afford Jewish schooling for them.” The Rebbe responded with a heartfelt blessing, wishing for my father to succeed in these endeavors and that he and my mother experience nachas from their children’s Jewish education.
After speaking to my father, the Rebbe turned to us, asking for our names and birthdays. Before this moment, I had never given much thought to my Hebrew birthday, but the Rebbe’s interest inspired me to learn more about it.
By this time, the Rebbe had switched to English, tailoring his words to each of us individually, based on our ages and interests. When I told him that my thirteenth birthday was approaching, he asked about my Bar Mitzvah preparations and my Torah portion. He emphasized the importance of putting on tefillin every day and then he gave me a special blessing which echoed the values my father had said were important in our family. He wished me to bring nachas to my family and the Jewish people, to build a strong, beautiful family, and to make a meaningful impact on the Jewish community and the Land of Israel.
That audience with the Rebbe came at a pivotal time for my family. Living in Parsippany, we had no local rabbi to guide us, and often we had to rely on the Chabad representative in nearby towns instead. Receiving the Rebbe’s blessings when we did gave us the feeling that everything would fall into place, ensuring that my parents would be able to continue supporting our Jewish education and that G-d would provide.
In time, my parents succeeded in providing a Jewish education for all six of their children. Today, all of us, along with numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren, are Torah observant.
The Rebbe’s blessing to me also shaped my life profoundly. I made aliyah in 1996 and married Yifat, whose family has been living in Jerusalem for eight generations. Together we have been blessed with five children, while being committed to making an impact on our community and wider society. I served in the army, becoming an officer in the IDF Spokesman’s office, and I’ve since became involved in the U.S. political system from afar. We also established ATARA, a social welfare organization that provides solutions to young religious women who have “aged out” of the foster system. The Rebbe’s charge to focus on making a positive impact and to strengthen the Jewish people has influenced every decision I’ve made, and his blessing has stayed with me throughout the years.
Residing in Efrat, Israel, Mr. Kory Bardash and his wife, Yifat, are the founders of ATARA. While working as a wealth manager, he also serves as the co-chair of the Republican Party in Israel, which mobilizes American citizens living in Israel to be politically active. He was interviewed in March of 2016.
