Pondering Jew

B”H Your birth was your defining moment, yet you didn’t ask to be born at all, much less to the family you were born into. You didn’t get a say in the city (I don’t know how I got Pittsburgh; I’m not interested in sports). Or the times. (If you’re Jewish, you’ve probably learned by now that the Jewish nation has had more bad times than good times–and that history repeats itself. Sorry, I know this is supposed to be...

BH The house is quiet now. Single socks and smudged windows are the most tangible reminder that our house had recently been a dormitory. But, before she returned to seminary, our daughter Rivky placed two huge boxes on the steps in front of our side door. They were something to remember her by; we almost fell over them every time we entered or left the house. In her defense, she also left a clearly marked sign taped to the door,...

BH Pictures don’t lie, but they don’t tell the whole truth either. They just capture a moment, no, a split-second, in time. Our family recently captured a split-second when Zev and I, plus every child, in-law child, and grandchild, lived together in our house during Pesach. But the picture doesn’t show my mind uttering, “thank you, G-d” and “thank you, Rebbe” in a continuous loop as the photographer snapped away. You can’t see all that went into this journey that began almost...