Tag: Divine Whispers

My talk was called "Divine Whispers." I would be sharing an array of stories, weaving them together to create a message of how even in the "ordinary" events of our lives, we can find a "divine whisper"-a lesson specially scripted for us. The talk was the highlight of a lovely afternoon and evening program arranged by Chabad emissary Chana Alta Mangel in Blue Ash, Ohio. The food, decor, workshops and program, like Chana Alta herself, were fabulous, offering a perfect balance of beautiful physical and spiritual nourishment.

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

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

The black fly was steadily crawling up and down my kitchen window screen. It was desperately − but methodically − seeking an escape, to get beyond the imprisoning panel of the screen, into the wide, open world.

The black fly was steadily crawling up and down my kitchen window screen. It was desperately − but methodically − seeking an escape, to get beyond the imprisoning panel of the screen, into the wide, open world.

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

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

If you were to stare evil in the eye, what would you see? What would be its character traits? What would form its origins?

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."

A parent turns to her teenaged son and asks, "What's bothering you?" "Whatever," answers the kid with a disconsolate shrug.

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

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

For the past two years, any time we've met our neighbors on our front lawn, near the street's curb, the discussion has invariably turned to the very pressing issue of... garbage.

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

Behind every successful man, stands his wife - or so goes the proverbial saying. But what about behind every successful woman?

Ever since I can remember, my husband's practice has been, like many men, to buy me a lovely bouquet of flowers for Shabbat.

Joe is sitting in the den. The remote control keeps his hands busy while his unseeing eyes gaze straight ahead.

After a long and taxing day at work, followed by the usual battle with rush hour traffic, Joe finally arrived home.

You. Yes, it is you that I'm talking to.