
Isaac’s Laughter
At the start of this week’s Torah reading, Jacob, like his grandfather Abraham before him, leaves the land of his birth for new horizons.
Matthew Schultz is the author of the essay collection “What Came Before” (2020). He is a rabbinical student at Hebrew College in Newton, Massachusetts.
At the start of this week’s Torah reading, Jacob, like his grandfather Abraham before him, leaves the land of his birth for new horizons.
If we want to create a new liturgy that stands a chance of becoming a lasting, vital contribution to Jewish spiritual life, we will not achieve this by going through the siddur with a red pen.
We would all do well to remember that what we see in the headlines is partial. It is an “edge of the people” or a glimpse of “the wasteland” but it isn’t everything.
For the Torah, “belief” does not mean “belief in the claim that something exists,” but rather is an expression of trust, loyalty, and dedication.
How do we maintain a belief in God’s goodness in a world where evil and misfortune exist?
In 1964, at a symposium For English language Jewish writers, Leonard Cohen delivered a jeremiad against North American Judaism — a Judaism that had abandoned God in favor of bourgeois, assimilationist dreams.
Jewish religious leaders should take note. Young people like sleek, modern design for our consumer electronics, yes, but not for our religion.
The Torah remains our greatest inheritance and our heaviest piece of baggage—simultaneously an elixir of life and an elixir of death depending on the spirit in which it is imbibed.
The atmosphere of Memorial Day in Israel speaks to the fact that, in Israel, history runs wild in the streets.