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.”
If you’re looking to get away from the irritations of technology and people in your way, the best place to go is Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.
Our daughter would tell us glowing stories about how Mrs. Mike made the pesukim come alive, tricks she taught them to memorize and recall the mitzvot, how each mitzvah perfectly fit women…
I hear my alarm clock buzzing But my body refuses to budge It needs another shot of caffeine In the form of a latte with mocha-fudge
They may call them the dog days of summer, but for me August is the best part of the steamy season. The nights are just a tad cooler, those home grown tomatoes and cucumbers are finally ready to be enjoyed, and while there is that secret thrill of getting those school bus passes in the mail (for us parents, at least), there is still plenty of time to enjoy summer and all of its glorious opportunities.
A friend of mine, a young mother, related that her oldest child, now three, was starting pre-school in a few weeks. Her voice, full of pride, quickly took on a tone of annoyance as she described the “welcome package” she had received as a new parent. Amid the rules and regulations concerning drop off and pick up was a dress code for mothers/female caregivers who brought and took home the children. One of the “requirements” was wearing closed–toed shoes. Sandals were not allowed.
We’ve all had those moments when we think we just can’t bear anymore. When it seems the walls are crashing down and we’re powerless to stop it. “What now?” we wonder, “What else can I do?” Surprisingly, in these exact moments we have a lot more power than it seems.
In last month’s column we traced the early career of Reverend Dr. Henry (Chaim) Pereira Mendes and described his extraordinary service to Congregation Shearith Israel in New York where he served as hazan (chazzan) and minister from 1877 to 1923 and then as minister emeritus from 1924 until his passing in 1937.
It can be a daunting process sending teens off for their first year of study in Eretz Yisroel. For most teens, this will be their first complete year away from the comfort of home and the guidance of their parents. As if that isn’t enough, they’ll be about a full day’s travel away from home.
For me, there's nothing like making challahs for Shabbos. But I can't say it's always been the height of my week. There was a time when baking fluffy, light-as-a-feather challahs was a total mystery to me.
Think of how you feel when you pick up a baby and she starts crying and shrieking hysterically. You can't help but feel somewhat chagrined and inadequate.
At the American Jewish Historical Society, there was an excellent program about Jewish women in the Civil War. The audience learned about such colorful women as Phoebe Yates Pember who served as a nurse, with 15,000 patients coming under her direct care during the war and Clara Solomon, a teenager who chronicled the Civil War.