Overly earnest security measures can carry a great price. They can make of our synagogues unnecessarily unwelcoming places. I explore that idea in this video post.
When I left New York, I promised myself I would not support the creation of the same type of useless security measures that ultimately devoured my hometown. And now my synagogue wants to create one.
There is no Judaism, much less humanity, without community. Words and deeds that set us apart from each other are, perhaps, the greatest sins of all.
People often remark that converts tend to have a deeper knowledge of Judaism than do Jews by birth. But as with all things, practice makes perfect.
If, in fact, we are our brother’s keeper, doesn’t our responsibility towards others include refraining from tearing each other down as we seek to elevate ourselves?
When the b’nai mitzvah crowds elbow regular synagogue members out of the sanctuary, whose Shabbos is it, anyway?
The High Holy Days that marked the beginning of 5772 also marked the end of my first observed Jewish year. I expected the Days of Awe to be fulfilling. But what was missing turned out to be the best part of all.
My synagogue was one of the Yemeni mail-bomb terror targets. It is impossible to write a sentence like that without feeling the worst of humanity well up inside your being. But sometimes it’s when you feel the most hateful of urges that healing the world has the best chance to begin.