From the time Evan left until college I never felt truly secure with friends. The years in between were filled with anger, loneliness, and an inability to feel close to anyone, until I met Simcha. Suddenly it occurred to me that I could try mixing my art with my religion.
Expressing ourselves in art and beyond is too often looked at as immodest or dangerous. It's time we understood how vital to the spiritual life vulnerability really is.
Here I am; cringing as I attempt to flip my perspective upside down. As I turn the self-criticism dial to the right, and wonder would it would look like to spend the last few moments of Elul thinking about love instead.
The game made us laugh, debate, and venture into un-PC territory. It also showed me that I did have a community.
I see something that angers me. I yell. But it’s a virtual yell. And so when I yell, and I empty my lungs with all the rage in me, nothing actually happens.
We are not a joke. Your ethnicity is not a joke. Your religion is not a joke. Because Yom Kippur isn’t about fasting.
Hell no, don't give me your umbrella, or your coat, not your trains that run on schedule or your buses that lurch and groan, not your cars neither and the rules of the road.
I've got me, and that's enough until I get there.
The minute you have cancer, you’re either a survivor or a casualty, and, at worst, a victim. Don’t give me...