Poetry | Reheat, by David Israel Katz
David Israel Katz writes us into spaces that negate sense, and importantly, negate our impulse to try to locate sense.
David Israel Katz writes us into spaces that negate sense, and importantly, negate our impulse to try to locate sense.
The October 7 Hamas attack showed that sex crimes are not absent from the modern battlefield.
Through all the multiple David Mamets, one personality remains constant: a bold, aggressive, exceedingly confident, superbly well-read, arguably narcissistic provocateur.
Jewish Baby Boomers like me grew up hearing about Richard Loeb and Nathan Leopold Jr. because they were two intellectually precocious, rich Chicago teenagers who were also Jewish.
We have been reminded of all these things in the most horrible and heartbreaking way possible. October 7 was the most difficult and poisonous chemotherapy, but it has removed the cancer that was destroying us from within.
In the days following the Hamas massacres in southern Israel, the group’s propaganda videos—including graphic, unedited streams of terrorists firing automatic weapons and the mutilated bodies of victims—proliferated unhindered on the social media platform X, formerly known as Twitter.
Poland has a long tradition of bucking political trends.
On the sixteenth day of the war, I found hope in an underground parking garage.
As chief historian at Yad Vashem from 2011 to 2021, and now the institution’s senior academic advisor, Dina Porat has the chops—the moral authority, if you will—to poke into dark and troubling corners of the Israeli national psyche.
It’s a truism of geopolitics that disorder somewhere breeds disorder elsewhere.
In South Dakota, Jewish homesteaders made their fortune on land the Lakota Nation once called home. One of their descendants explores what a process of repair and repentance might look like.