Black Like Us
The Chasam Sofer (Rabbi Moshe Sofer, 1762–1839) probably never saw a black person. There weren’t likely very many in 19th century central Europe. But he certainly knew they existed. After all, they are mentioned...
The Chasam Sofer (Rabbi Moshe Sofer, 1762–1839) probably never saw a black person. There weren’t likely very many in 19th century central Europe. But he certainly knew they existed. After all, they are mentioned...
It wasn’t reported as a stand-alone piece in The New York Times or Washington Post for some reason, but on March 19 Hamas security agents raided the Gaza offices of Reuters, seized reporters’ cameras,...
My dear mother, of blessed memory, has been gone for 22 years. Her yahrtzeit, the Jewish anniversary of her passing, 22 Adar I, fell on a Shabbos this year, several weeks ago. All who...
Most of us have paused at the fact that, at least from our limited perspective, Hashem seems to present two very different “faces”: on the one hand, He is the Merciful Lifegiver, the Forgiver of sin and Bestower of blessings; on the other, the Lawgiver.
Mama Jean, I realized, had sensed what the rabbis of the Talmud teach: that a person’s true character is evident in “his cup”—in how he acts when intoxicated. She had perceived Klal Yisrael.
March 14, 2010 STATEMENT OF AGUDATH ISRAEL OF AMERICA REGARDING THE BRUTAL MURDERS IN ITAMAR Every person with a Jewish heart—in fact every person with an unsullied human heart—feels only sorrow, anguish and outrage...
A middle-aged British husband and wife recently lost their battle over their right to become foster parents because of their traditional beliefs about marriage and morality. Owen and Eunice Johns, 65 and 62 respectively,...
Not 70 years since the Holocaust, we remain the same boogiemen, scapegoats and plotters that we were in the fevered imagination of moronic medievals.
But we are neither wallabies nor Watsons. We don’t just feel; we emote. We don’t just compute; we conceive. We don’t just act; we choose. Our reflections in a mirror mimic us too. But they’re not us.
Are our observances truly religious, or do they sometimes devolve into rote?
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