Happy Hanumas? Happy Chrismakah? Merry Chanukah? The winter holidays are fast approaching. It's time for non-celebrants of Christmas to read yourselves for the onslaught of seasonal niceties from store clerks and acquaintances.
You shall make no covenant with them and their gods. They shall not remain in your land, lest they cause you to sin against Me; for you will serve their gods - and it will prove a snare to you.
As we approach Deaf and Hard-of -Hearing Awareness Shabbat, I am reminded of Leviticus 19:14, "You shall not insult the deaf."
As a kid, Shabbat meant brisket. I loved that. Every once in a while, my mother would get inspired and feel the need to… cook? No, she always cooked in those days. It wasn't until many years later that dinner was more likely to be ordered than made.
“Who’s that guy?” I asked my mom.
“He’s the rabbi,” she answered. I stared up at my mom, with a blank gaze on my face.
When I was eight years old, my family joined a synagogue for the first time.
Many Baby Boomers remember listening to the sounds of tiles clicking on their mother’s game tables and smelling the smoke wafting from their cigarettes. Usually a lovely lunch or snack was served by the hostess and the games went on for hours. This was the social world of Post WWII housewives.
A few weeks ago I attended a local event featuring Joseph Goldstein, the world-renowned Buddhist teacher and author who was here in Brattleboro to help the Vermont Insight Meditation Center celebrate its fifth anniversary. I enjoyed the gathering immensely and was energized by seeing so many bri