While in New York recently, I was invited to see a performance of "Waiting for Godot" – a multi-layered play on the human condition that I was introduced to in high school. What was fascinating and unique about this particular production was that this renowned play was being performed in Yiddish - with English and Russian subtitles beamed onto a screen for non-Yiddish speakers. (Staged by the New Yiddish Rep, at the Castillo Theatre, and directed by Moshe Yassur, it stars Shane Baker, David Mandelbaum, Rafael Goldwaser, Avi Hoffman and Nicholas Jenkins.)
When I was fourteen years old I understood that I might never return to Moscow and live at home with my parents. While I had lived the bulk of my life in Moscow, at the start of high school I was going to assimilate into the American system of education and the world of American teenageism. I was excited.
It's hard to believe that it is the beginning of October and the Yomim Tovim are already behind us. But having had everything fall out early this year provides a golden opportunity to enjoy the gorgeous fall weather and all that the crisp air has to offer.
Cholera was officially recognized to be of epidemic proportions in New York City on June 26, 1832. The epidemic was at its peak in July and 3,515 out of a population of about 250,000 died. (The equivalent death toll in today’s city of eight million would exceed 100,000.) Sadly, in 1832 there were no effective treatments available for those who contracted this disease.
At first I thought I wouldn’t be able to use it at all. I had thought the concept was perfect. A rose-colored background, surrounding black encroaching from all sides. It would be a cave of warmth, a hiding place within the darkness.
The parallel lives of my father, Shlomo Ben Dovid Schlesinger, whose name was once Severin and that of his first cousin, Severin F., diverged exponentiallys shared a maternal grandmother, Raisel Schlesinger, a frum balabusta, who lived and practiced the traditional ways of her forefathers. along different lifestyles and choices. Each of the Severin
Now and then my Bubby would open up about what she went through in the camps, of what she witnessed... From time to time she would talk about her baby sisters - twins - and how she would sew them identical dresses and braid their hair the same way challenging everyone to guess who was who.
Before I invite you to peer over my shoulders as I look into the mirror, a basic tutorial in the terms JMW, rigidly enmeshed and angst is in order.
17 July I hope you all had an enjoyable and meaningful fast and now sit satisfied and full as you think back to your inspiration. I wanted to share one thing I gained this year.
She wasn't talking about folding the regular loads of laundry, she was talking about huge plastic bins.
This month, we’re going to dive right into the questions, because it seems like everyone who sent one in is in a rush.
He goes far beyond the scope of his duties as a medical expert and gives his patients much more than one could ever expect. For you see, he gives his heart.
Our community has a very different mindset - we live to have children. Each child is considered a bracha - a priceless commodity to cherish and nurture.
Given that this is a consumer column, you can rest assured that I spend countless hours coming up with creative and innovative money saving ideas, but for a change, I am going to try something different and share some of my pet peeves, those moments when you can't believe how much you are paying and how little you are getting in return, when you find yourself shaking your head in disbelief and wondering aloud, "Are they serious?"
As this is our third column on the Reverend Dr. Henry Pereira Mendes, we’ll begin with a summary of his life.
I’m excited to introduce my new Sukkos decoration concept. I couldn’t help but notice the variety of interesting leathers and vinyls available on the market. Sorting through the many different colors and textures, it dawned on me that I could easily create Sukkos décor using one of my favorite combinations, leather and nail heads.
I was entering 3 months in which my connection to my Judaism would be up to me, and I feared I would lose everything.
To some people, the sounds of rustling backpacks and starched uniforms brings feelings of sweet relief; it’s the sound of children going back to school and the household returning to a normal schedule.
In a pinewood paneled roof studio in Ramat Beit Shemesh, Israel, Avraham and Rachel Kolberg, Breslover chassidim, teach yoga classes to groups of men and women. Purple and blue exercise mats are neatly folded on wooden shelves. Purple foam blocks, weights of up to twenty kilos and ropes as thick as a man’s wrist are all stacked neatly along the sides of the studio. Plenty of light floods the room from large windows that face the Judean Hills. The sense of peace in this studio comes from more than just the pleasant surroundings.
I read an article recently that described the fascinating phenomenon of mainstream, well-educated, responsible men and women deciding not to have children. According to the article, these people have given the matter a great deal of thought and have come to the conclusion that parenting is not for them.
Sometimes, you see it coming and sometimes you don’t. You move into a community thinking, “We’ll stay here for a while,” and then things change, and your position in chinuch is not as certain as you had believed.
Students in the Lubavitch Senior School in London were asked to recreate a historical event. Miriam Ives, age 15, wrote a letter to a newspaper in the guise of a soldier during the Crimean War.
I always knew I wanted to be perfect, but it wasn’t until my seminary year that I decided I wanted to be publicly perfect. It was at that point in my life that the imagery of me as a public figure and a rebbetzin was born.
Just imagine you are walking through a beautiful garden. Feast your eyes on the colors of the flowers, the grass at your feet, the leaves of the trees in shades from green to silver. Listen to the birds. Let the sunshine caress your face. Smell the perfume.
Now and then you read or hear of a tragedy – typically a car accident - where those involved are suffering from life-threatening injuries or unfortunately have lost their lives. Frequently, in the initial reports, the victims remain nameless “pending notification of next of kin.”