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There’s a recent ridiculous trend about being “Very demure. Very mindful.”
I don’t know the context, but you don’t have to, to get that someone is poking fun at our society at large.
If we feel disconnected, it's not because we are a mess, but because the world is (by design) upside down. It's because disconnection- is a feature, not a bug.
This is Chanukah. Zos Chanukah. Today, the eight-day of Chanukah. Every bit of potential has been realized, every cup in the Menorah that waited its turn is sufficiently filled with olive oil or
Whether you are at home or in synagogue on Yom Kippur, here is a parable and a meditation for you. The woman in this parable is our soul. Our soul hears the heavenly sound of the Divine before it enters into our bodies.
Stay home is the universal message of the coronavirus. As we face this new reality the Rabbis and shul goers all over the world have a lot to navigate. For some, shul closings have been the thwack of reality about how serious the pandemic is.
The parallels with Yom Kippur are at the heart of the paradox of finding order in chaos. I recently gave a workshop at the Chabad women’s conference in New York. The talk was about the struggle of parenting while co-directing a Chabad center.
With the school year coming to a close, there is much ado about gifts: gifts for the teachers, gifts for the graduates and let’s hope at least a pat on the back for yourself as the parent.
Facebook. Like it. Instagram. Double-tap it. Snapchat. Snap it. Twitter. Tweet it. Pinterest. Pin it. LinkedIn. Link it. Follow. Like. Friend. Share. Repeat. It is the best of times — to stay in touch. It is possibly the worst of times — to develop authentic relationships.
Passover is fast approaching, and I am overwhelmed by how much work goes into preparing for this weeklong holiday. The days might be long, but the years are short, and time doesn’t stop for my procrastination and ruminations.
Surely you have heard these popular lyrics, as I have, and maybe you have heard the entire song, “Run the World (Girls),” which I have not. But the verse is catchy, and it’s stuck in my head.
After 20 years of living in Atlanta, it is not a stretch to consider the tree and our beautiful, lush, green surroundings as a metaphor for life.
“Hit the road, Jack . . .” This is the song we heard playing loud and live on a makeshift stage in the middle of a grassy knoll in the neighborhood park. We had come to the park in an attempt to get out of the house on this last day of Yom Tov, Simchat Torah
I feel as though I am swimming. Sometimes I’m going upstream, against the current. Sometimes there is a weight on my body, further slowing me down. The water is cool and refreshing, and it’s supposed to be enjoyable—so why does it feel so oppressive and burdensome?
Much of my father’s wisdom comes in the form of a story, but sometimes he shares a joke. What was considered a joke in our family was nuanced in humor and overt in a life lesson.
Maror is the bitter food we eat on Passover to remind us of, you guessed it, the bitterness of our once upon an enslavement.