We will be celebrating Hanukkah once again this year, lighting candles, eating latkes, opening presents and spinning dreidels. We'll sing Hanukkah songs. We'll talk about the holiday a lot, but I'm not going to tell my girls the story of Judah the Maccabee. Not yet.
I'd like to believe that prayers are like pixie dust. But they won't get me to win the PowerBall; they won't prevent me from getting sick; they won't always save my children, my neighbors, my friends. So what's the point?
For Israel, a dual message of the right to defend ourselves, with deep and profound ethical sensibilities, is what this past conflict was about.
As rabbis, we must hold both Israelis and Gazans to a basic principle in international law and in the Jewish tradition: We have a right and responsibility to defend ourselves, but must not kill civilians in the name of self defense.
Both "brothers," Palestine and Israel, today need to make the choice that begins with the new cease-fire, but must lead from there to a long-term truce; the truce must give time for compassion to flower where there was fear and rage.
The tension builds as the two brothers, accompanied by hundreds of followers, move toward each other: "And Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck, and kissed him." Differing regimes of interpretation raise urgent questions for us.
On Thanksgiving, we all took a deep breath and gave thanks for family, friends and the simple pleasures of life. How do we make it last? Would it not be great if the spirit of Thanksgiving endured?
'Tis the season for eliminating guilt by spending gelt to alleviate the feelings that you may not have taken care of your loved ones like you thought you should have during the year.
I am grateful I am alive because this past weekend, I was on the beach playing paddle-ball with my cousins in Tel Aviv when the air-raid sirens went off, which meant a missile was very possibly coming toward me.
Everything we have is a gift, even the next breath we take. Recognizing and acknowledging the source of the gift doesn't make us dependent but reminds us that we are all interdependent.
Thanksgiving has not always been celebrated in the ways that we celebrate it today. Such creativity is not only an American phenomenon, but a Jewish one as well.
After Hurricane Sandy, the Torah of Thanksgiving teaches us that thankfulness is not limited to a solitary day. Gratitude is an ongoing consciousness that compels us to open our eyes and hearts and wallets to respond to the devastation around us, now and always.
One could say that we have created a false myth about both holidays. We decided that religious freedom is something we hold sacred and have chosen to celebrate through both of these holidays.
Setting out for our nephew's wedding, my wife and I weren't quite sure what to expect. As religiously serious Jews, our excitement contained an undeniable undercurrent of uneasiness.
We strive on a regular basis to speak to the needs of the moment, and it's time now for gratitude. We are entering the season of Thanksgiving.
You see Mr. Adelson, we're in the midst of a generational conflict, a divergence affecting all Americans, and Jewish Americans in particular.