Opinion | Searching for a Shul in Lisbon
“Travel is enriched when you connect with local Jewish life.”
“Travel is enriched when you connect with local Jewish life.”
Bert and I met on June 9, 1963, fell madly in love, talked incessantly, got engaged in October and married two months later, astonished by our commonalities and delighted by our differences.
The Israel-Hamas war has turned the women’s liberation slogan on its head.
If you’re in a room full of mainstream Jews who hew to the uncritical AIPAC line about Israel, you undoubtedly know that “apartheid,” “racist” and “fascist” are three words you can’t say about the Jewish state without risking denunciation, cancellation or total excommunication from the tribe.
At long last, we’re discovering that love has its limits.
When I was a girl, my mother told me I must always wear clean panties in case I got hit by a bus.
Long story short: my father, Jack, controlled the money in my parents’ marriage. All of it.
Imagine you live in a rural area out West and your neighbors keep trying to drive you off your land.
I’ve been obsessed with Black-Jewish relations for half a century.
Hard to believe it’s come to this: The word “antisemitism,” coined in the 19th century by a German journalist, is being weaponized by Jews against Jews.
Hope swelled in many hearts when President Biden indicated he would deep-six the prior administration’s “Deal of the Century,” which would have enshrined Israel’s creeping annexation and ever-expanding settlement project and forced Palestinians to accept a state with as much contiguity as the Caribbean islands.
One day last spring, I got a call from a woman I didn’t know, asking if I objected—as she did—to a work of mine being included in The New Jewish Canon: Ideas and Debates 1980-2015 along with works by men identified as notable abusers by the #MeToo movement.