We see everything around us through a coronavirus-colored lens these days, searching the past for clues about what is to come. This month, I'm using the rhyme about April showers and May flowers as an occasion for hope, seeing every holiday in May as part of this unfolding pandemic.
I have been a fan of “Doctor Who” for many years, but until I sat shiva for my father recently, I did not really understand what it felt like to travel on the TARDIS.
There’s nothing like a scheduled, non-funeral visit to old graves to get you thinking about Jewish journeys – where we have come from and, perhaps, where we are going.
I play a game when I read the paper, posing these questions: Which stories will fade quickly? Which will we remember years from now? Which will change our world forever?
This year, the heated argument between the disciples of Hillel and the followers of Shammai over how to light the Hanukkah menorah speaks to me.