In his editor’s note in the May 1975 inaugural issue of Moment, Fein set out the magazine’s mandate “that Moment will help raise the sense of Jewish possibility, hence also raise Jewish aspirations.”
During the coronavirus quarantine, I spent several months cooking for, and helping, my daughter Merissa in New Orleans, where she was recovering from surgery.
Humans have been trying to make sense of time since, well, the beginning of time—at least human time.
A tree now grows in the arid soil of Kibbutz Ketura in southern Israel. A subspecies extinct for nearly a thousand years, this Judean date palm was resurrected from a tiny 2,000-year-old seed found in an ancient clay jar unearthed in 1963 by archaeologists excavating around Herod the Great’s palace at the ancient fortress of Masada.
Confined to her home studio outside Tel Aviv during the COVID-19 lockdown, artist Zoya Cherkassky started producing a painting a day.
We asked our team of rabbis to weigh in.
In a bare room adjoining the Arthur M. Sackler Gallery of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Asian Art, Chief Curator Massumeh Farhad places a virtual reality headset over her eyes.
We Jews are obsessed with history. From ancient to modern times, from the Flood to the Exodus to the destruction of the Temples and the exiles, from the Middle Ages to the Inquisition and the pogroms to the Holocaust to the establishment of the State of Israel, we recall and retell our history.
Does time move differently for Jews? Does Judaism have its own view of time?
In mid-January 2020, when Israelis first became dimly aware of a mysterious new virus coming from far-off China, most of our attention was focused closer to home.
There are many ways to explain the Holocaust. But not many historians have proffered a different theory with each published book.
The first time I read a book by Philip Roth, I read it from back to front.
