If you think that with the tense climate in the Middle East no Muslim country would warmly welcome, let alone happily invite, Jewish visitors, then you haven\’t been to Morocco.
Which leads me to the question that started this rumination in the first place: Are we in Los Angeles so large and diverse a Jewish community that there is more that separates than unites us?
Every few years, we Angelenos are reminded that this is Earthquake Country. Then, before the last FEMA check is cashed, we forget.
When Achinoam Nini was growing up in the Bronx with her Yemenite-Israeli parents, her different name, exotic looks and diverse heritage made her feel out of place among her schoolmates.
Either the apocalypse is coming, or I\’ve been living in Los Angeles too long. Last night, I woke up from the most vivid dream, the kind that feels like it lasted all night, the kind of dream that feels like a journey through every emotion.
You have three goals for your Sunday: wash your car, wash your clothes, wash yourself.
When Diane Arieff turned in her cover story on the best-selling \”Kosher Sex,\” I smiled with unquestioned approval. After all, opening doors and windows for Jews of all persuasions — observant as well as secular — seemed healthy and desirable.
\”Two Jews, Three Opinions\” (Berkeley, $24.95) is the kind of book you assume has been around for centuries, if only because the concept has.
A curious thing happened in the pages of The Jewish Journal the week of Nov. 20.
I couldn\’t stop looking at Monica Lewinsky last weekend. Her videotaped deposition played in our house nonstop.
