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We know the heart of the stranger and we cannot allow ourselves to lose sight of these people, or allow statistics to blur them and their lives into a faceless “issue.”

March 20, 2020 We’re about to enter Shabbat on what, for many of us, was our first full week staying at home, as we collectively try to slow the pace of this terrifying pandemic. I’m thinking of those of you who are coping with your own illnesses or those of family and friends. And, of...

March 13, 2020 I’m writing first to send love and good wishes to everyone in the T’ruah community. I know that all of us are feeling a heightened sense of anxiety as we hunker down at home, quarantine ourselves, cope with our own illnesses or those of friends and family, and mourn the chance to...

The safety of Palestinians and Israelis is inextricably linked. By signing this letter, we publicly recommit to the long, hard work of bringing about a better future for everyone in the region.

One of my favorite programs at my synagogue is our B’nei Mitzvah family retreat. At the beginning of the summer, we take our incoming seventh grade families to camp for the weekend. It’s remarkable: relationships between kids change, parents get to know each other, and, after the Bar or Bat Mitzvah, we keep most of...

“I am a nester,” my friend said just weeks before Pesach, as we pondered the ramifications of her house having been dismantled for mold remediation. Her home is sacred space for her, a place set apart to replenish herself. Normally, she would have been cooking up a storm in her house. Instead, we baked a...

When someone like Kenneth Smith is praying even as he is lying on a bed of death, how can we pass by once we are made aware, awakened to God's presence there? 

In the militia headquarters in Odessa decades ago, I was surrounded by harsh interrogators who castigated my friend and me for visiting Russian Jews, who were aliens in their eyes. I felt anger and even hatred at these leaders and their many followers who had made Jewish life impossible for a large segment of our...

My father’s family were refugees from Vienna, who fled just before World War II broke out, but not before my grandfather had been deported to Dachau. He remained incarcerated there from November 13, 1938, until January 19, 1939. He knew he had to leave Austria with his family. But leaving wasn’t easy. First, it meant...

I am starting to write this from a cramped seat on an El Al flight to join the Center for Jewish NonViolence action from May 14-23 in the West Bank. I’ve been asked to drash Beha’alotecha in light of this trip, but, full disclosure, I have to write now because there won’t be enough time after...