When the doorbell rang as a child, my siblings and I would race to be the first one to ask, “Who is it?” Today, the doorbell is extinct.
When the doorbell rang as a child, my siblings and I would race to be the first one to ask, “Who is it?” Today, the doorbell is extinct.
This week, I am visiting family in Philadelphia. While sitting in a café, the table next to ours was engaged in a conversation that I could not ignore. The first person said, “When you give a sermon, it must not be for an imaginary audience. A sermon must be given for the real world.” My father and I, both rabbis, smiled at each other and continued eating.
A journalist recently told me that she was in conversation with a friend who refused to bring children into this broken world. She felt it would be ethically irresponsible. She then asked me, “Rabbi, what should I tell my friend?”
In 1965, Martha and the Vandellas released their musical hit “Dancing in the Street.”
WhatsApp is a brilliant way of communicating with family around the world. My extended family, which stretches from Los Angeles to Philadelphia, has a WhatsApp chat group where we share updates of our lives in real time.
Return trips are always harder than outgoing trips. When we leave for a destination, we are filled with anticipation and excitement.
When a teacher takes attendance, the student replies, “Here.” The student is articulating that their presence matters.
Why do we have the different sounds of the shofar? The Rabbis answer that people around the world cry differently. Some moan, some sob, and some whimper. The shevarim and teruah calls echo those distinct manners of crying. Together on Rosh Hashana, we hear the cries of the world.
Rosh Hashana has two names: Yom Teruah, the day of the shofar blast, and Yom Hazikaron, the day of remembrance.
First days of school are always nerve wracking and exciting. In my middle and high school, there was a tradition on the first day. The senior class would line up in front of the school. Every single student and faculty member would walk down the line shaking the hands of each senior. We would gather as a school community and the headmaster would explain the history behind the handshake. The popular theory goes that by extending your empty right hand, a stranger could show that they were not holding weapons and bore no ill will toward one another. Another explanation is that the handshake was a symbol of good faith when making an oath or promise. When we clasp hands, we show that our word is a sacred bond.