Yemenites here marking first Passover in America, but the adjustment isn't easy.
Special To The Jewish Week
This is the first Passover when Temia and her daughters won't be grinding wheat by hand and baking matzah in special wood-burning ovens, as they did in Yemen. Instead, they'll be tasting their first matzahs sold in a box, celebrating the holiday in their new homes in upstate Rockland County.
Those of a certain age and inclination will recognize this lyric from a great Buffalo Springfield song of the late '60's: "Something's happening here, what it is ain't exactly clear…" That's exactly what it feels like to me in America right now. Something's happening. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but it feels visceral and scary, and I'm sure I'm not making it up.
Lost in the furor over Sara Hurwitz’s title is the broader issue of women’s roles within Modern Orthodoxy.
Dina Najman, rosh kehila (head of the congregation) at Kehilat Orach Eliezer on the Upper West Side, spends a majority of her day answering halachic questions, teaching classes expounding upon Jewish texts and counseling couples and individuals who are having personal difficulties. Her male rabbinic colleagues often consult with her on questions of bioethics, her area of expertise.
The bulk of the work that she does, she says, is not gender specific — and shouldn’t be viewed that way.
Welcome to the Tweder. Can Twitter and the Passover seder coexist?
Last Passover, Dan Berkal spent the first seder dining with family and friends at the James Hotel in Chicago — chanting the prayers and songs of the Haggadah, sipping the four requisite glasses of wine ... and updating his Twitter status.
“Suddenly four children enter the room,” he tweeted at 4:53 p.m. “Nobody seems to like the wise child,” he added a minute later, followed by the 4:55 p.m. announcement: “We tell the wise son, ‘No dessert for you!’”
At Park Avenue Synagogue symposium and book launch,
scholars describe theological and personal impact of author of ‘As a Driven Leaf.’
Editor And Publisher
On March 19, 1950, Milton Steinberg, the esteemed rabbi of Park Avenue Synagogue, lay gravely ill with heart failure. But from his hospital sickbed he continued to work on his historical novel about the Prophet Hosea, describing an impending battle scene and a character’s premonitions of the angel of death.
"I happen to be in Iraq and am looking for a place to spend Passover," read the e-mail message I received Monday night. That got my attention.
It was from a Jewish woman from Washington, D.C., who said she had arrived in Baghdad two days earlier as a consultant for USAID (U.S. Agency for International Development). She wrote she had come on short notice and had "no time to plan for Passover, aside from bringing a couple of boxes of matzah ball soup mix. No one else who is here is Jewish."
On Monday night Jewish children all over the world will open their Haggadahs and ask “why is this night different from all other nights?” This classic inquiry focuses on how the seder meal differs from all other festive family dinners. But how it does so is not the only question upon which to focus at the seder.