I don't want to discuss the politics of the Charedi anti-draft protest. I want to talk about how it makes me feel. When we say that "Kol yisrael arevim zeh laze" - all the Jewish people are responsible for each other... "K'ish echad b'lev echad"- we are like one more with one heart... It's hard to process this reality that is contrasted so strongly in this picture. Jews are not meant to believe that one Jew is better than another. We believe there are 70 ways to the Torah- al

Here is a message to those who are considering aliyah to Israel: This week in the Israeli school system, we celebrate aliyah, and this weekend we read Parshat Lech Lecha. So here is what is on my mind. When I was younger, when people talked about aliyah, what came to mind were the flight videos where there was music and dancing and emotional speeches and friends clinging to each other as they said goodbye, and (if you were lucky) parents who gave you one last blessing, hands

Ham*s did not “return a body” last night. They staged a performance of cruelty. They dug a hole, placed part of Ofir Tzarfati’s remains inside, and filmed themselves “discovering” him - in front of the Red Cross -as if this were the first time he had been "found." As if this was an act of cooperation. As if this was humanity. But Ofir’s body had already been brought home earlier in the w*r. His family had already buried him. This is the third time. They had already begun the

It’s hard to describe how my heart is filling with both sadness and pride right now. Life in Israel is when your bar mitzvah teacher, a newly wed who grew up around the corner from your new home, is stationed far away for his miluim, and you still learn together. Your bar mitzvah is coming up and time goes on and even though there are those who say “the w*r is over” you learn to read your parsha on WhatsApp video with your teacher who is currently in Lebanon. He warns you abo

My incredible neighbor asked me to write a tefillah for her today, as she stands beneath the chuppah, watching her son and his bride begin their new life together. This is what I sent her: “We are living in a miraculous moment Where we have seen the final return of the last of our living hostages We have witnessed reunions of ecstasy and gratitude Welcoming home our brothers whom we were afraid we would never see again. Now we have the privilege to see the beginning of their

I know it looks bad. All the news coming out of London, NYC, and all the parts of the world where Jews aren't welcomed to be Jewish. Where we can’t look Jewish, act Jewish, or even carry an Israeli passport. Where we’re told to hide our stars, silence our songs, and stay small so we don’t “provoke.” Where our visible presence can cause a r*ot - and somehow we are the problem. I know it feels scary. I know it feels too familiar - like an echo our ancestors left in our bones. O

The euphoria has certainly waned a little. The claim that it was all over, was hard to believe then- and certainly hasn't proven out. We still have too many bodies waiting to be returned home. H*mas, as usual, is playing d*ngerous games. They have no intention of putting down their we*pons, nor relinquishing their governance of G*za. And as overjoyed as we are to welcome our live h*stages home, we are now only beginning the process of hearing their stories, which are more h*r

740 days. That’s how long it took for Inbar Hayman to come home from G*za. She didn't come back the way we wanted her to, returned in a coffin. But back to her rightful resting place. Inbar was 27. A graffiti artist known as PINK, she filled walls with color and courage. Her art was defiant in that it was public, bright, & free. The kind of beauty you can’t cage. And maybe that’s why her story hits so deep: because everything about her life was about expression, and everythin

The speeches are over. The mood is here is high. People smiling and congratulating each other in the streets. Shopkeepers wishing their customers “chag cherut Sameach!” A holiday of freedom, indeed. We can’t believe what we’re watching. The reunifications we never thought possible. Mothers screaming with ecstasy at their son’s faces, paler and gaunter than they remember, but home. Home. It all feels so grand. So miraculous. So enormously like a moment of change and positivity

This is not the first time, but I pray that it is the last. The hours and minutes tick by, till the release of the live hostages- they say that perhaps even tonight they will be brought home. Perhaps Ham*s now rushes them out like Pharoah, eager to be gone with them. I wonder, they are not known for their equanimity nor thoughtfulness. Before there were ceremonies and the cruelty of fanfare, now it feels like the curse they brought upon themselves afflicts them and sends our