Tough love for Black Lives Matter
You have to hand it to Black Lives Matter. They have cojones.
You have to hand it to Black Lives Matter. They have cojones.
When I was in my late teens, I listened to the second side of the Beatles’ Abbey Road album, pretty much every day for three weeks in a forest about an hour north of Montreal.
According to a 2015 Pew report, just 19 percent of Americans say they can trust their government “always or most of the time,” while only 20 percent would describe government programs as “being well run.”
Why would a rabbinic court in the world’s only Jewish state do something that would blatantly turn off most of the world’s Jews?
I shudder in rage whenever I see one of those videos showing police brutality. We all do.
Of all the contributions Eli Wiesel made to humanity as a global humanitarian, prolific author, Nobel laureate, proud Zionist, Judaic professor and Holocaust memoirist, maybe the least-talked about is his embracing of melancholy.
It’s not the disputed occupation of the West Bank that convinced a 17-year-old Palestinian teenager to stab a 13-year-old Jewish girl to death while she was sleeping.
One of the major obstacles to the Israeli-Palestinian peace process is boredom. Years and years go by, and no one says anything new.
I could never have imagined that I would find something missing in the Western Wall, that epic monument to Jewish suffering and collective memory that I have been visiting for decades.