Where I'm From: A Poem on Identity
I am from blintzes, from Crest toothpaste and kippot tucked into a dresser drawer.
I am from no eating in the bedrooms, singing all the time, comfy couches, a grandfather clock on the wall and challah French toast.
Finally Finding My Way to Judaism, the Faith That Beckoned
I was born into a Catholic family and given a Catholic education, but for as long as I can remember, Judaism has always fascinated me.
The Fate of France is Entwined with the Fate of its Jews
The kosher supermarket was chosen deliberately. Men, women and children were shopping and preparing for Shabbat.
Beyond Bokser: 11 Ways to Go Green on Tu BiShvat and Year-Round
Years ago, on a cold and sparkly winter afternoon, I sat with my younger sister in the living room, both of us savoring the long, dark pods of chewy bokser we had saved from our Tu BiShvat celebration at Religious Scho
Bread and Jam: A Story of Two Families for Holocaust Remembrance Day
During World War II in Lithuania, the penalty for hiding Jews was death. Nonetheless, Jura’s family extended a helping hand to mine.
The Song of the Sea and Shabbat Shirah
Shabbat Shirah is on January 30th this year, and is another name for the week we read the Torah portion called B'shalach. In this portion, the Israelites have just been freed from Egypt and we read about the splitting of the Red Sea.
Facts Make You Free: A Reflection on the 70th Anniversary of the Liberation of Auschwitz
Today, as the world marks the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, I am thinking of my father, of blessed memory. He was among the Jews forcibly marched through the camp's entrance gate under the cynical Nazi motto: Arbeit Macht Frei, Work Makes (You) Free.
And When I Leave: A Poem for Havdalah
I am not ready
To leave this place
this time
this rest.
I am not ready
for the separation that
must come, not while
I still smell
the sweetness
of cardamon and cloves.
I want to linger
in this holy time
this sacred promise
And be
Making Soup, Making Shabbat
When I was a kid, my family did not keep kosher. The closest we got was the story my mother told about how, when she was growing up, her father once yelled at her as she poured a glass of milk to go with her BLT sandwich: “We don’t mix milk and meat!”