Kol Nidre 5786 The Door We Closed
I love a good gadget. Always have.
When I was thirteen, I spent my Bar Mitzvah money on an Intellivision game console. I loved it. Later came the Palm Pilot—remember those? My brother had a bag phone — you…know…doctors! Then came the iPod, and in 1994, after a particularly bad blizzard in New Jersey, I was allowed to buy a Motorola flip phone—the kind where you had to pull out the antenna by hand.
Yom Kippur Morning 5786 The Door to Redemption: Walking Toward What Still Can Be
I’ve always been amazed by how powerful music is when it comes to memory. You can sing your favorite song faster than you can speak it. And when that one song comes on the radio — the one you haven’t heard in years — it all comes rushing back. The melody, the lyrics, the feeling. It’s just there.
Rosh Hashanah Morning 5786 The Door We Walk Through Together
I’ve always loved building things. Legos. Lincoln Logs. Those plastic model cars. And thank you, IKEA, for your infuriating instructions. Anything that involved putting things together and seeing something take shape — I was in. I loved the construction of it. And, let’s be honest, I really loved all the tools that came with it.
Erev Rosh Hashanah 5786 Through a New Door: Welcoming What Comes Next
Monte Halparin, a Jewish kid from Winnipeg, Manitoba, was born August 25th, 1921. His father was a butcher and part-time cantor. His mother ran the local grocery. They were Orthodox, Yiddish-speaking immigrants from Eastern Europe, and they struggled through the Great Depression. Like many children of that era, he grew up with big dreams and limited means.
What we must bless in a time of hate
A little over a week ago, a group of Jews gathered in Boulder, Colorado – not to protest, not to provoke, but to pray.
A thought for Shabbat. Shabbat Shalom!
The Blessing We Refuse to Let Go
Shabbat Parashat Naso – June 6, 2025 / 11 Sivan 5785
When Silence Isn’t Holy Parashat Shemini
Have you ever had one of those moments where something happens and you just… don’t know what to say? I’m not talking about something tragic or earth-shattering (yet). I mean the everyday, human, caught-off-guard kind of silence.