Experience what could be a majestic beginning to the Days of Awe. That is my goal – and challenge for High Holy Days this year. I want to truly understand the meaning of the opening prayer. Continue reading
How Jewish must we be to help our faith survive? It’s a tough question. The Bible has a passage that seems to suggest we should not practice our faith in anyway we please. But as a Reform Jew, I treasure the freedom to choose how Jewish I want to be. Continue reading
For decades, I searched for a community. And I found it by returning to my own Jewish faith. Now I am no longer a stranger within my own faith and the Jewish community gives me a huge sense of belonging. And yet, my definition of community has broadened.
The boy and girl stared at the ice cream truck, their mouths drooping in obvious longing. “What would you like? An ice cream sandwich?” the ice cream vendor asked, then started naming off frozen novelties. The children’s mother shook her head. She had already told her children no. “Sorry, I didn’t bring any money,” she said.
The vendor pulled out two popsicles, peeled back the top of the wrappers, and handed them to the children. The kids ran off, smiling and licking the treats. A man sitting nearby tried to offer … Continue reading
Keep funerals participatory. Clergy should give advice on what makes a suitable eulogy so funerals do not become insufferable or have inappropriate content. They should urge family members to keep the number of speakers low. Sitting through a long funeral for a loved one can be traumatic and painful. Mourners need to hear that others loved the deceased, but the conversation can and should continue after the funeral ends. Continue reading
>No candles were lit. No kiddush was chanted. No challah was on a table. And yet last Friday night still felt a lot like Shabbat.
My family met a friend and her 4-year-old daughter for a picnic in downtown Lexington and heard a free children’s music concert. Maybe Shabbat can be about more than ritual. It was a night about simply being together. Continue reading
My 4-month-old baby boy nestled in my arms, I walked into the sanctuary hoping to discreetly slip back into a seat by my husband.
“Simon,” Rabbi Howard Jaffe called out in his booming voice. “Come join us.”
It was time for the Aleinu prayer, and our temple’s tradition was to invite children to participate and open the doors of the ark.
Take my baby up to the bimah? What was the point?
Some people seem so comfortable at praying. They shut their eyes and recite words praising God and fold into their own private space. I am still learning how to pray.
I celebrated my adult bat mitzvah four years ago and led others in the traditional prayers of a Shabbat morning service. I did not stumble over the Hebrew, and yet my adrenalin rush stemmed not so much from the words of the prayer. It came from the people around me. It came from the sense of community.
His auburn hair turned reddish-blond. His teeth gleamed white in a face that tanned to bronze. My late brother Kevin was the eternal boy of summer.
He was born in early August. Maybe his love for everything summer was a birthright.
To my brother, a slalom skier and ski jumper, every lake was a body of water to master.
Strawberry, chocolate, and milk stains dotted the dining room tablecloth. Toys were strewn across the living room. And the squeals of three toddlers filled our home. It was Friday night, and this Shabbat dinner was “much, much better” than others. Friends sat at our table with us.
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