“How are you?” It’s such a simple question. But these days, it feels impossible to answer. Every time I’m asked, I take a deep breath, because whatever I answer, feels dishonest. Fine, I'm holding up, ok…all things considered. But the truth is — the real answer — is I am not fine. Everything feels heavy. Overwhelming. Our country and our world feel fragile.Every day brings headlines that make me wonder: what crisis has deepened, what violence has spread, what truth has been shaken, what new level of uncertainty must I now sit with?  I don’t need to give you the headlines, or ramble off every crisis that is plaguing us right now – they are running through my mind, and I’m guessing yours, too. Every minute of every day, I am living the headlines and I know I’m not the only one. I’ve heard from so many of you, from...

I am exhausted, and if I’m being honest, I don't think I’m the only one. This past year has brought a litany of unfamiliar experiences and emotions.  This year, we’ve had to wrestle with questions like - Where do I fit in? And - what does it mean to live as a Jew, to be part of a local and global community, to be part of a peoplehood and also part of a modern society where we are an ethnic and religious minority?  Perhaps some of us are perfectly comfortable, we do not feel so different from anyone else around us. For some of us, this has been a persistent feeling throughout our lives - antisemitism, hate, feeling like we are on the outside, like we are other. For many of us here, this is a new reality that we have had to grapple with over the past year. Growing...

“If we just sat here, all of us, and cried together today, that might be the most eloquent response to the year we’ve just lived through.” These are the words that Rabbi Rachel Timoner opened with on Rosh Hashanah morning five years ago.  I don’t know about you, but the anticipation leading up to these High Holy Days have felt different than ever before. This year was filled with so much communal grief for the lives of all of the victims of the horrific pogrom of October 7. So much grief for the thousands of innocent victims of the war that began on October 8. This year has been filled with so much fear as Antisemitism continued to rise and then rise again to the surface and explode in our faces, here in America. This year, I prayed and prayed, as did so many of us – that all of...

My Dear Chicago Sinai Community,  As we come together this Kol Nidre evening, I can't help but reflect on the shock and devastation that enveloped us in the wake of October 7. In those heart-wrenching moments, countless of our Israeli brothers and sisters, and many of us, too, found ourselves saying "ayn milim"—there are no words. Yet now, 372 days later, I stand before you with words that I feel compelled to share. I come to you from a place of vulnerability, aware that some of you may resonate with my thoughts while others may not. In this moment of uncertainty, I am reminded of a beautiful Talmudic teaching. The Torah, in recounting the story of the Exodus, tells us that Moses says the redemption will take place “k’Chatzot”—around midnight. This raises an important question: why the word “around”? The Rabbis explain that this ambiguity teaches us something vital: it...

My first month living in Chicago, on a quiet Friday, I took my bike out at 6:30 in the morning to ride up to Montrose Harbor, because of an instagram post. 7AM, I arrived, completely unsure of an exact location, nervous going to something by myself, scared that I had no idea where in the city I was, yet, as I got closer to the harbor, I saw people walking and biking, together in groups with inner tubes and pool floaties. I locked up my bike and followed the crowds of people towards the water where a few hundred people were jumping into the lake at 7AM. I dumped my things on a step and approached the edge of the water. I was terrified. All of a sudden, I hear an affirming shout- “are you going to jump?” and a young woman and her friends start cheering me on and...

Today is Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, 2023 – 50 years, to the day, since the outbreak of the 1973 Yom Kippur War. How different the world is today than it was just 50 years ago. And how different things are in Israel today than they were just 50 years ago. In the spring of 1973, Jody and I were spending a semester in Israel. We lived and worked on Kibbutz Givat Chaim Ichud in the Sharon Valley. At least twice a week we used to go for afternoon tea to visit a woman name Lotte Aaron. Lotte was an artist. She spoke several languages, including fluent English, and we used to sit and talk for hours. We became friends. She spoke with pride about her two sons who were both studying in New York. In October of that year, the Yom Kippur war broke out. Lotte’s two sons...

Hashkiveinu Adonai Eloheinu L’shalom V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu L’chayim. Cause us to lie down, Eternal our God, in peace, and raise us up, O Sovereign, to life. Many of us have heard this prayer dozens, if not hundreds, of times.  And, I imagine, like many other things that we see and hear frequently, it’s possible that we never really stopped to think about it.  Hashkiveinu Adonai Eloheinu L’shalom V’ha’amideinu Malkeinu L’chayim.  Cause us to lie down, Eternal our God, in peace, and raise us up, O Sovereign, to life. It is such a simple prayer, such a modest request – let us sleep in peace and wake up alive.  U’fros Aleinu Sukkat Shlomecha and spread over us Your shelter of peace.  It is a basic human plea for protection, for predictable routine, for normalcy, for the world to be the way it ought to be.  It turns out that this prayer, Hashkiveinu...