Valentine Shmalentine, where're my Devorah-hearts at?
This Hanukkah, the world is upside down. Let's flip the script.
A discussion with the creator of the Misaviv Hebrew Circle Calendar.
As the Rabbi continued chanting the Torah portion, Steven took the star-shaped paper to the back of the Shul, near where the coffee maker, the cheese Danishes, and the bottle of Slivovitz always were. He unfolded the paper and noticed first, that it was a hand-written note, and that whomever had written it had exquisite penmanship. ‘Dear Dr. Rice,’ it began.
‘I know you are upset...
I think we can all agree that one thing Chabad tradition got right was the establishment of healthy, spiritual habits. This one's my fave.
A now-Orthodox Jew revisits her less-than-formative memories of Xmases from her Conservative-movement childhood in Suburban Boston.
Inertia, self-imposed or otherwise, is among the most challenging things for a human being. We were designed to remain in motion. Even sleep is a form of movement. Resisting change however, is its opposite.
Noah’s brother and son in law each take one of Noah’s arms. If they were to let go even for a moment, he would fall into the open grave from sheer anguish.
As the first scoop of dirt hits his son’s casket, Noah drops to his knees and he moans, almost as a whisper —or an afterthought. The sound that passes from his lips is unearthly.
Fear/Loss/Death/Prayer/Faith/Love. This is a small poem about big things.
I spend the whole week living like a pinball; bouncing and ricocheting through life. By the week’s end, the last thing I need is someone telling me how to relax.
