We could have assimilated but instead / we rededicate

Every year, I tell the congregation not to worry about mistakes because there aren’t any; there is only us, telling an old story about love getting born into this aching world.

With a single generous gesture from my older child, her sister's belief in Santa stayed intact that year.

Christmas is a risk for us to take. Shall we allow ourselves to be touched by sentiment? Awakened by song and story? Drawn into festivities, when our joy depends upon the goodwill of others? Dare we risk the disappointment of hopes raised high and excited expectations? May we have the courage to...

When the angel Gabriel brought to Mary the news that she would give birth to a son, Luke records that “she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.” The angel said to Mary, [response:] Do not be afraid. When an angel appeared before the shepherds living...

In times like these, we may seek a new word. But perhaps, in times like these, more than new words, we need old words. We made the journey back to Bethlehem; to the old story of a young, unwed, pregnant girl and her fiancé, Joseph, a poor, young carpenter. The Roman emperor, Caesar Augustus,...

As December opens up before us, we welcome in the gift of reflection.

An awakening passed through the whole theatre, and as if touched by some invisible hand, the people stood, clapped, shouted with joy, laughed, and wept… It was blessed to be connected to—no, to be a part of a community—a people. —Volker Kühn, in his essay about a cabaret performance during...

Christmas doesn’t wimp out when times are hard – it comes anyway, even if there are hardly any presents.

People have always known that fire was special. Long, long ago, before people made matches or candles or even made houses, people knew that fire was special. There was the great fire in the sky, the sun, which made the earth warm and made night into day....

Over the years your staples have slipped and pages loosened. Here a faded purple crescent of ancient wine, there a smudge from bricks of date paste. But when you speak I swoon....

The day after the seder, reality shoves back in like a football player with lowered shoulder. Dishes to wash: the browned kugel pan, chopping knives, the eggbeater that whipped the whites for Eppie’s matzah balls, the gravy boats that held haroset, the glass bowls encrusted with salt. All day...

Wear God like a cloak / and stride forth with confidence.

Breakfast on kosher macaroons and Diet Pepsi in the car on the way to Price Chopper for lamb. Peel five pounds of onions and let the Cuisinart shred them while you push them down and weep....