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?
Esther Safran Foer, author of the recently released I Want You to Know We’re Still Here, shares her deeply moving story about her journey to learn more about her father’s family. It was not until Esther was an adult that she discovered her father had a previous wife and daughter, both killed in the Holocaust. Interviewed by her dear friend and former NPR All Things Considered host, Robert Siegel, Esther reveals how she became a detective and traveled the world in search of the family she never knew she had.
