And why I don't go. I wouldn't go back, but I'm not going to lie: I think about the old days and there are certain things I still want that I can't have.
My whole life I had it backwards. It took a moment, just one small talk, to make me realize how wrong I was: Yom Kippur is the happiest day ever.
This Elul is testing my belief that "women's work" actually counts as avodas Hashem. Now I have to really believe in the holiness of raising a baby.
The reasons for which I’d grown my beard had become less relevant. . .That I had come to know beautiful holy Yidden with and without beards seemed more relevant to me.
Our kids ask us, "Who were you guys?" Rough drafts. Cross outs. Do overs. Perennial second chances. Answers may vary.
I’ve known a fair share of rabbis in my day, from all stripes and denominations. It’s definitely a mixed bag.
Why using words like "God forbid" when a Jew chooses to stop believing is an abomination.
Am I an artist trying to work in religious themes, or am I a religious person trying to make art? Thoughts on a decade of Matisyahu and knowing oneself.
On the magical life a baal teshuva leads, and why they need to not forget the value of their old ones. And why, often, they need to go back.
A South Beach story about a desperate old man with a desperate plan who meets the perfect candidate to make everything alright.
