Beloved daughter,

You and I have been having an interesting dialogue about your bat mitzvah – or, as you would say, the question of your bat mitzvah. I remember the look in your eyes when I casually mentioned that you'd be stepping up to the bimah in less

Tu BiShvat is a reminder that we spend our lives planting seeds. Time and effort are needed for our efforts to bear fruit. Wait patiently. One day, like the seed, we will be blessed.

I place an unquantifiable value on the Jewish education I received growing up. I attended Hebrew school through the end of high school, was part of a strong Jewish community not unlike the community in Cheers (where everybody knew my name), and still consider

As I took a short walk last week during a break between Yom Kippur services, a memory, both humorous and deeply emotional, flooded my heart.

I realized that my rebellion against fasting began as a teen.

The old adage “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words shall never hurt me” was first recorded in the 1860s and is something parents have since used to soothe their children’s hurt feelings.

In 1975, I was a little girl coming to URJ Camp Harlam,a Jewish sleepaway camp, following in my cousin’s footsteps. I hung on to her for dear life every time we passed each other in camp.

My wife and I got up early, packed our car with trunks, suitcases, plastic drawers, and sleeping bags, and drove our two daughters to Jewish summer camp. Actually, first we stopped outside the gates to wait in line with a hundred or so other cars.

The grief of the past few days has been unimaginable.  Many of us are torn between watching and listening to the 24/7 onslaught of media coverage and the desire to turn off everything imaginable and run away into a world where horrific events could never ever