Three crowns stood above the first two words of the Song. The first was drawn by Ruth Kingberg, together with Neil, just months before she died. At the time she could barely stand, but when we told her we would bring the scroll to her home, she dressed herself beautifully. Continue reading
Moses ascends Pisgah and looks into the future.
I have let you see the land, YHVH tells his prophet. But, YHVH adds: v’shama lo ta’avor – you shall not cross over there.
These are God’s last words to Moses.
Should we be silent? Moses is. Continue reading
I had no idea what I was chanting. I did not know the rabbi, whose raspy voice I listened to every day. I never met with anyone – not the rabbi, not the cantor, not a teacher. Not a single soul spoke to me about my bat mitzvah, its purpose, or the significance of anything I was doing. Continue reading
She called her photograph “Waiting.”
A man in a fine hat and light suit sits in elegant pose, one leg folded across the other, his jacket resting on his shoulders. His eyes are difficult to read. He is waiting.
The man next to him is bent over, his head resting in his palm. Despair? Exhaustion? We can only guess. He, too, waits.
An elderly woman, her head bandaged, looks over her glasses. Her newspaper rests over her legs, the Hebrew letters running across the page in successively smaller rows. Continue reading
This just in: After decades of teaching and writing about Jewish history and texts, after delivering interfaith programs on the same, after studying to become a rabbi, and after about twelve years leading the same congregation the world has discovered that I am Jewish. Continue reading