Feminine Soul

Women love shopping. Just ask their husbands. They'll tell you.

"See, I was standing right there," I hold out the brochure for my children, pointing to the famous Panama Canal.

You and your spouse are driving along the highway. You begin to strongly suspect that you have missed your exit.

One of my favorite teachings from the Talmud is a marriage-related lesson.

This past week my youngest child turned four.

Once upon a time, there was a little flame that glowed brightly. Wherever this little flame went, it brought light and luminosity.

I'm often asked why it is that men played such a major role in Jewish history.

It's that time of year again. You're sure to be visually bombarded at every turn of your shopping experience.

She looks at me with those large brown eyes. I try to decipher her expression. There's a hint of sadness, doubt and even fear. She averts her gaze, trying to deny her act, as if she's trying to take it back.

Not only was I raised in a "religious" home, but with my father serving for the last 50 years as the rabbi of our − at first fledging, and now, vibrant − Toronto community, I was given the endearing designation of being "the rabbi's daughter."

Tomorrow is the day after Labor Day. We all know what that means.

With an active household and a busy lifestyle, my day, as for most people, is full of many mundane chores that need to be taken care of as part of the routine schedule.

From the moment that our eyes met and locked on Friday, at the first lecture that I gave at the retreat organized by the EJSN (European Jewish Study Network) in Davos, Switzerland, I sensed that we would be speaking more throughout the weekend.

"Wouldn't it be nice if the days were long all year round?" commented my son at six o'clock in the evening as we sat down to dinner to the backdrop of the completely black outdoors.

Is there ever a time to say, "Enough! No more Mr. Nice guy for me!"

A little past her second birthday, my toddler has entered into a new phase of independence.

One month ago, humanity woke up to a very dark world.

A few weeks ago, my family and I arrived in Cleveland on a Sunday afternoon.

Ever wonder what might have happened had the first Adam reacted differently? I don't mean if Adam hadn't have eaten the forbidden fruit. I believe that somehow, on some level, that was a necessary component to our being human. We're not meant to be perfect angels, or mechanical robots, always following directions explicitly, and always doing the right thing. Temptation and failings, challenges and adventure are meant to be a part of our human journey.

Is there ever a time to say, "Enough! No more Mr. Nice guy for me!"

I am driving along in my small silver sports car. The pace of the cars around me has suddenly become frenzied; the flow of traffic has thickened considerably; I have hit morning rush hour on Toronto's busy thoroughfares. I need to merge into traffic on a very busy main road. But I am stopped, stuck, as the cars whiz past me.

Shavuot is considered the time when we "married" G-d or cemented our relationship with Him after our "courtship" on Pesach, during the Exodus from Egypt. The Luchot (Tablets with the Ten Commandments) is compared to our Ketubah (marriage contract) and explains the responsibilities of each of us in this relationship.

My day begins as a perfectly sunny, breezy, late summer morning. But then we meet.

She rolls the dice. Her face is serious, concentrating on the outcome.

Have you ever asked yourself-or anyone else: If you could live your life all over again, what different choices would you make?

From the moment that our eyes met and locked on Friday, at the first lecture that I gave at the retreat organized by the EJSN (European Jewish Study Network) in Davos, Switzerland, I sensed that we would be speaking more throughout the weekend.

A few years ago, we were headed back home from a family vacation in the Laurentian Mountains.

Several months ago, at a children's rally, my 10-year-old son was the lucky winner of a raffle. His prize? A plump goldfish. It came in a plastic bag filled with water.

One month ago, humanity woke up to a very dark world.

She looks at me with those large brown eyes. I try to decipher her expression. There's a hint of sadness, doubt and even fear. She averts her gaze, trying to deny her act, as if she's trying to take it back.