thoughts and musings from young adults living Jewishly – and Jew-“ish”-ly – in
Everything is a choice. The shoes you put on this morning, the route you took to work, where you're eating lunch, your trip to the gym tonight. We're selecting and making decisions every minute of our lives.
As a professor, I also get a sabbatical in the seventh year at my job at a small college in Iowa. I spent mine in Chicago writing a book.
There are opportunities to engage in Judaism and celebrate and deepen your Jewishness during the summer -- you just have to find them.
While the youngest at your seder will ask the four traditional questions when we celebrate later this month, here are four other big questions for all of us to think about while breaking matzah.
Everyone believes his or her grandpa is the best, as they absolutely should. And of course, I think no differently.
How my niece grew my heart three sizes this winter break
I woke up last Wednesday morning with an idea: I wanted to host 2016’s last Shabbat.
I love watching the Chanukah candles dance and dazzle in the darkness during the shortest days of the year.
My mom met the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson, four years before he died. It wasn't a vacation, celebrity tour or religious pilgrimage. It was a trip of critical necessity. At 4 years old, my sister was dying of Leukemia.
Eight ways to make Chanukah have a bit more fire, more energy, more pop pop -- POP!
The High Holidays give us a chance to step back and look more closely at the path before us.
Back by popular demand -- at least according to my mom -- is my (sometimes) annual guide to a sweeter new year.
I love riding my bike! The breeze is so refreshing. The physical exertion is exhilarating. And the experience of accomplishment, especially on long distances, is gratifying. I hate riding my bike! It’s too hot outside. My muscles are aching. I’d so much rather drive to wherever I’m going.
I did not grow up with the idea of Shabbat dinner on Friday evening every week.
It was a day and time circled on my calendar for the past two academic years. Every Tuesday at noon, a dozen of us students would study Torah together as part of one of the classes offered through the Florence Melton School of Adult Jewish Learning.
“I hate you.” These are powerful words. They can ruin years of relationship development in two seconds.
Essentially, I've grown up with tefilah (prayer) -- that I know -- but have I become a grownup with tefilah?
My papa, Ralph Rehbock, has been the greatest influencer and teacher in my life. Since surviving the Holocaust as a young boy, he has never been shy speaking about his past, or about teaching the lessons of the Holocaust as a member of Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Center’s Speakers’ Bureau.
My grandfather’s Judaism called to him when he was 16. It was 1942. His family had emigrated to America decades earlier and he was living the American Dream.
I first remember learning about the Holocaust when I was 5 years old. Sitting in my grandparents’ living room, the camera crew entered with all of their equipment and I sat quietly on the couch with the rest of my family as we waited for the interviewer to begin asking my grandfather questions.
One of the highlights at the Seder is the four questions.