I received copies of these books from the publisher (thanks, HarperCollins!) in exchange for an honest review. These thoughts are my own.

Memories of a Good Meal by Alon Shaya and June Hersh

NOLA-based Israeli chef Alon Shaya (who you might recognize from Somebody Feed Phil for his restaurant, Shaya!) has just brought another book into this world, and it just became the most meaningful cookbook on my shelf.

In collaboration with food writer June Hersh (Iconic New York Jewish Food; Food, Hope & Resilience), this new cookbook is a collection of recipes and stories from lives impacted by World War II, including Holocaust survivors and partisans fighters. And not just lives impacted, but individuals who fought, endured, and clung to reminders of home through their favorite meals.

Years ago, the James Beard Award-winning chef teamed up with the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum for a project called Rescued Recipes, where Alon collected and cooked preserved recipes of Holocaust survivors, victims, and WWII veterans. He ended up raising over $1 million for the museum’s efforts to preserve and digitize historical documents, including survivor family recipes.

The continuation of his meaningful work comes in the form of his new book, which he was inspired to create in 2015 on a visit to Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust museum. It was there that he saw a piece of cloth cut from a Nazi flag on which female prisoners at the Ravensbrück concentration camp embroidered their names.

These women “cooked with words,” often reminiscing about their favorite foods like pear kugel, and writing down memorized recipes on scraps of paper they could find. Conversations around food became their form of resilience and survival while living in terrible conditions and suffering from starvation. Alon saw the importance of food as survival in this story, not just in eating, but in talking about it, which created community among survivors and instilled hope.

Just like Passover seder when we eat symbolic foods like horseradish and parsley dipped in salt water to taste the affliction and bitterness of our enslaved ancestors, the book’s recipes bring us to specific moments in history. Whether we’re eating Hawaiian butter mochi cake or creamy roasted chestnut soup, we’re tasting tradition that survived a Japanese internment camp, and we’re reminded of a French village that saved Jewish children. And yes, there’s recipes for a seder in here, too.

Memories of a Good Meal expands beyond Jewish survivors. There’s real universalism in its glossy 329 pages, a reminder that the war impacted communities of all kinds.

Take, for example, the amazing story of Master Sergeant Roddie Edmonds who, while held in a German POW camp, kept his fellow inmates’ spirits alive by dreaming up a restaurant called the Jolly Chef. Prisoners drew pictures of the restaurant’s floor plan and menus with dishes like Roddie’s Sunday spaghetti and hotcakes. The restaurant never came to be, but the story and the recipes that the prisoners dreamed up have a permanent home in the pages of Alon and June’s book.

Roddie is also famous for standing up to a German officer when he ordered only Jewish POWs to report the next morning so they could be separated from the other prisoners. Knowing the dangers that awaited the Jews if they did this, Roddie ordered all American POWs to assemble. When the commandant said they all couldn’t be Jews and this must be a joke, Roddie replied, “We are all Jews here.” Even after the German officer pressed his Luger against Roddie’s head, Roddie bravely stood his ground. The officer backed off and Roddie saved the lives of 200 Jewish soldiers. He’s one of only five Americans to be given Yad Vashem’s title of Righteous Among the Nations for his heroism and moral courage.

There’s also the fascinating story of John Kinsel, one of the Navajo code talkers of the Marines who transmitted and decoded secret messages across the South Pacific. Alon and June visited John, who was 107 years old, on the Navajo Nation in Arizona, to hear his story and learn about his complicated relationship with the country he served. After all, he wasn’t granted the right to vote during the time of his service. And it was the Navajo who unearthed the uranium from their land that was used for the atomic bombs, many of whom suffered from lung cancer because of it.

John died just 23 days after Alon and June’s visit. His legacy is preserved in their book through Navajo inspired meals, like fry bread and sweet corn ice cream.

This week, I brought memory and meaning to my kitchen by making a recipe from the book!

One thing I love about Memories of a Good Meal is that it’s pretty accessible. So many cookbooks out there are either complicated or call for ingredients I’ve never heard of. Not this one!

I made grilled steak with blueberry vinaigrette to honor Holocaust survivor Celina Hecht. Celina (born Celina Friedmann) survived the Holocaust by living as a Polish catholic girl, even though she was Jewish.

A family took her and her twin sister, Fella, in on their farm, and the girls spent their days foraging in the nearby forest for mushrooms and blueberries. Both sisters survived. Their mother, who was living in a ghetto that was eventually liquidated, did not.

“I was hidden not in the sense that I was hiding, but I was not allowed to be myself. I had a false name, my identity was hidden, but I wasn’t.”

I love a good fruit-and-meat combo, and this particular sweet and savory dish tasted triumphant, like survival. And knowing that the tartness of the wild blueberries reminded Celina of sweet memories amid wartime made the meal all the more satisfying.

Find out how you can win a copy of this cookbook in an upcoming Drop! Stay tuned!

A Year of Jewish Joy by Rebekah Lowin

A different vibe… get ready to elevate your holiday meals!

The Jewish Martha Stewart, , has entered the chat. Only with less insider trading and more Jewish joy, with her first book, A Year of Jewish Joy!

Rebekah, who was an editor at Martha Stewart Living and is now an author and influencer, just came out with a cookbook that looks as homey and perfect as her Instagram, the kind that leaves you wondering, “How does a mother of two have time do that?”

From za’atar-parm and sun-dried tomato-basil schmear for break-fast, to baharat-spiced gruyère twists for Hanukkah (in honor of Judith who gave an Assyrian general salty cheese and wine and then cut off his head!), this book offers creative twists (see what I did there?) and activity ideas for all the holidays! Okay, except for Tisha B’Av…

The recipe that got me the most excited was olive oil martinis for Hanukkah. And the ombré apples and honey board is also a simple yet crowd-wowing idea for hosting a Rosh Hashanah meal.

In terms of accessibility, this book is accessible… if you have hours to wrap dozens of Rolos in aluminum foil, glue Hershey kisses to the tops of them, and dress them up in blue cloth to make them look like tiny Torahs. It’s a cute Simchat Torah treat idea, but really, when am I ever going to do this?

Shabbat Shalom! Go enjoy a pumpkin spice Challah or something,

P.S. There’s also this new joyful Jewish sweets cookbook that recently came out, but their publisher didn’t contact me, so who cares? ;)

💦 If you like recipes, check out these Drops:

October 7th has made me a different Jew.

One who pays more attention to security when walking into synagogue, and notices when there is none.

One who has gotten yelled at on the street for wearing a t-shirt that calls to bring home innocent people who have been held in captivity by terrorists.

One who, when walking down the street filming her weekly “Shabbat Shalom (hey!)” video for Instagram, looks over her shoulder in case anyone hears.

One who posts about Jewish joy, and gets comments either ranting about her DNA that supposedly says she’s a white European woman, or telling her to pick up a penny on the ground.

One who wants to bond over Eurovision with Europeans while on vacation, but doesn’t want to ruin the vibe like last time.

One who was told to not tell anyone I’m Jewish while traveling.

One who is generally uncomfortable when meeting new people now, because she never knows if they agree that Jews deserve safety and a right to self-determination like everyone else.1

One who, when making a non-Jewish friend, wonders, “Okay but when am I going to get all Jewish on them? And how much? How much is too much?”2

One who lost her best friend because the friend prioritized ideology over love.

One who is getting used to listening to a new artist, only to have her heart broken by their performative anger and double standards when it comes to morality.

One who meets a Jew and is never entirely sure if they’re going to get along or understand each other.

One who is saddened by the increasing divisiveness within the Jewish community.3

One who wonders what you mean by Free Palestine.

One who wonders if you know what you mean by Free Palestine.

One who can’t help but wonder what your watermelon earrings mean.

One who no longer cares for Susan Sarandon. That’s fine.

One who will never get used to seeing swastikas drawn in her neighborhood.

One who is now apprehensive of saying where she works for fear of pushback.

One who suddenly considers Jewish issues when voting in a way she never has before.

One who tenses up around progressives. And Gen Zs. And people with purple-dyed hair. Working on it!

One who just doesn’t feel comfortable in liberal spaces anymore, even though she’s a liberal at heart.

One who finally understands the warning signs of antisemitism on the left she’s heard so much about for a decade.

One who became aware of the propaganda she was fed in her Israel education, and also doesn’t feel quite at home in pro-Israel circles whose members don’t question anything.

One who wonders when the Jewish people will heal.

And yet…

At the same time, October 7th has made me a prouder Jew.

One who confidently walks into synagogue and thanks the security team.

One who sees that it’s imperative to keep wearing a Magen David despite conversations or questions that may arise from it.

One who is grateful for wearing it (and “Jewess” earrings!) because of all the words of encouragement and support from strangers.

One who films weekly “Shabbat Shalom (hey!)” videos and still sometimes looks around, only because she doesn’t want to seem like an annoying influencer.

One who posts about Jewish joy, and gets comments from Jews (and allies) all over the world sharing pictures of their homemade challah and stories of their adult b-mitzvahs.

One who has made online friends from Jewish Substack, and in-person friends from local Jewish communities.

One who watches Israel perform on the international stage and win 2nd place despite all the hate, propaganda, and pressure.

One who answered “yes” when asked if she’s Jewish while traveling, and made new friends in a Croatian cemetery because of it.

One who tries to strike up a conversation with every stranger, and sees any potential uncomfortable encounter as either an educational opportunity, or a chance to practice empathy and courage.

One who is inspired to learn as much as she can so that she can confidently educate.

One who has new celebrities, like Pink, to turn to for inspiration (even though she still doesn’t like her music).

One who knows how to properly report swastikas and doesn’t let a sighting ruin her day.

One who openly explains her work, and how it includes supporting Jewish educators in teaching all of Israel’s nuances and complexities.

One who values friends with whom she can respectfully disagree.

One who is more easily able to let go of relationships that no longer serve her.

One who votes for politicians who share her values, including Jewish safety.

One who is grateful for Western values.

One who recognizes the importance of learning from history more than ever before.

One who didn’t necessarily become an “October 8th Jew,” but rather a more nuanced Jew.

One who knows the Jewish people will one day heal.

Shabbat Shalom. Spend it with someone you love,

💦 If you care about 10/7, check out these Drops:

During Covid, my girlfriends and I ran a Torah book club (“Torah Talk”), where we met at the end of each of the Five Books, chumashim and masks in tow. We discussed questions related to the themes of the parshiyot, but couldn’t get past our questions about the plot, like:

• How did Jacob not realize he accidentally married Leah instead of Rachel?

• Why is G-d being so cruel to the Israelites?

• What’s with the talking donkey?

It was only years later that I realized we were reading our most sacred text all wrong. We discussed it like a typical book club, gossiping about the characters and reacting to every plot twist, like, “Can you believe Moses couldn’t go into the Promised Land? I was really rooting for him!” *sips Chardonnay*

Also, in the spirit of honesty, I would often procrastinate and binge-read the night before, rushing through the chapters like they were the latest ACOTAR. Except instead of reading about romance in castles under starlit skies, I was falling asleep over pages and pages of laws.

Look, there’s no “wrong” way to do Judaism, but that’s not how you read Torah.

You take it slow, reading (mostly) a parsha, or chapter, a week. You preferably read it in community, or with a rabbi or teacher, dissecting lines and sometimes even words together. And if you love bonus content, you read Torah commentary by scholars who have interesting and sometimes varying opinions! It can be fun but daunting for someone like me who has never really studied Torah before, aside from my Bat Mitzvah and a few times at MJE.

But I’m proud to say that this was the first year I actually kept up with the weekly parsha!

Okay, okay, I didn’t read the entire parsha from its original source most weeks. So when I say my “year of learning Torah," I wasn’t in seminary hunched over books all day. But I kept up with what happened each week, and learned how to interpret it through classes, d’vrei Torah (words of Torah) at synagogue, Substack summaries, and books on the subject. That’s more than I’ve ever done. I’m finishing this Torah cycle with a bang!

Yes, welcome to the Simchat Torah Drop! The joyous holiday where we dance around with Torahs in the street starts tomorrow evening. In honor of ending the Five Books and returning to Bereshit, the beginning, here are some general takeaways from my year of learning Torah.

I could write a whole other Drop on some of my favorite niche interpretations I’ve learned (one of which I’ve shared here), but I wanted to keep this one more general for those who are also starting out like me! This Drop is for anyone looking for a more accessible way to read Torah.

I know some Drop readers are actual rabbis, or rabbis-to-be, or just so knowledgeable in this stuff they can study it in their sleep. So if you’d like to chime in on any of these points, please feel free in the comments!

Now let’s hit it. Or, rather, touch it then kiss it.

Real? Not real? Who cares!

I’ll never forget the time when, some years ago, I was learning the structure of the Tanakh2 with my Orthodox chevruta. When we arrived at Kings, I said, “Oh, so this is the real part.” She looked at me and said as a matter-of-factly, “All of it’s real.”

I’m not sure why I blurted this out. It’s not like I had ever previously doubted the existence of the Torah’s stories. And even if I had, who am I to insinuate to this woman that Kings has more worth just because there’s archaeological evidence for it? What’s real anyway?

Maybe at the time, I just wanted the Torah to also hold some historical accuracy so I could take it seriously as a source of truth and wisdom.

I mean, a staff turning into a snake? Hundreds of thousands of people walking through a parted sea? Come on!

Then again, my dad (and scholars) said the Hebrew Bible could have been based on actual events. For example, there could have possibly been a major flood that inspired the one that covered the entire earth from the story of Noah. The salty region of Mount Sodom could have inspired the story of Lot’s wife. Heck, whenever I visit the Dead Sea, I feel like a salt pillar!

Lest we forget the Merneptah Stele, an Egyptian inscription from ~1200 BCE that describes Pharaoh Merneptah’s military victories and mentions Israel as a people living in Canaan. It’s the first known mention of Israel outside the Bible. So at least there’s evidence the Israelites were there 3,200 years ago, thanks to the rigorous note taking of our enemies!

So, was the Hebrew Bible historically real? I’m not writing to investigate this. Nor do I judge those who believe it was all real. I’m writing about a perspective shift I had this year that helped me view Torah differently. Someone described the Torah to me as being Jewish mythology, which made me think about how and why we study it. In other cultures, mythology can be used as a tool for story telling, memory preserving, and lesson bestowing. It only makes sense that Judaism does the same thing.

This idea of Torah-as-Jewish-mythology helped me realize I don’t need something to have historically happened for it to have sacred meaning. Instead of believing G-d created the world, I explored questions like, “What does the order in which G-d created the world in Genesis tell us about the significance of man’s relationship with animals and nature? With creation? With resting?”

Maybe the fact that the Torah offers us so many questions like these, and in turn, so much wisdom and guidance, is what makes it “real” to Jews.

You don’t have to agree with or even like everything in the Torah

As we all know, one of the reasons why Judaism is great is because it welcomes disagreement. Not only that, but the idea of wrestling with G-d. It’s where the name Israel comes from (Genesis 32:28 to be exact).

One book that was my anchor for learning about Torah this year was It Takes Two to Torah by Abigail Pogrebin and Dov Linzer. An Ortho­dox Rab­bi3 and Reform jour­nal­ist discuss the Five Books, learning from each other and oftentimes not agreeing with each other. I previously mentioned the book in this Drop when I joined a Torah class that used it to study parsha, and highly recommend it to anyone dipping their toes into Torah.

The first time I ever picked up this book, I randomly opened to their dialogue on Parashat Bo. Abby and Dov were discussing how the tenth plague - the slaying of the firstborn - doesn’t sit right with them morally. It wasn’t justifiable to punish innocent babies to free the Israelites.

The pair debated whether or not it’s better to struggle with a good question (“How is it fair that the innocent were killed in this plague?”) than to accept a bad answer. Or is dipping your pinky in wine and symbolically dropping ten drops of wine on your plate on Passover enough to remember the loss of life?

While they couldn’t agree, the book reassured me that even an Orthodox rabbi can’t get behind everything G-d does in the Torah. Baruch Hashem!

Law for the times, wisdom for the ages

It’s easy to read Torah and immediately dismiss it as outdated and harsh. Prohibitions against sexual relations between men, stoning… there’s a lot in there I won’t defend.

But this year, I learned that some of these laws actually hold deeper meaning.

Take, for example, the law for when an Israelite soldier wants to capture a beautiful woman during wartime. We recently read in Parashat Ki Tetze that he must first keep her in his home for 30 days while she is left to mourn her mother and father. She must be made physically undesirable (ex. shaved head, cut nails) so that he does not want her. After the 30 days pass, the soldier may marry her. If he ultimately decides he no longer desires her, he must set her free.

How barbaric! Shouldn’t the law just prohibit soldiers from taking female captive in the first place?

As I learned in Rabbi Alan Lew’s book, This is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared, the Torah acknowledges the wartime tradition of taking captives and treating them as property. Impulse is a part of human nature, after all. But the 30-day mandated period creates a ritual designed to let impulse pass by creating distance from rage, lust, and possession.

It’s like saying, “I bought this expensive dress, but I’m going to wait 30 days and see if I still want it, and if not, I’ll return it.” To take the analogy further, you purposefully make the dress ugly so you desire it less. You cut off the sleeves and remove the bejeweled collar. Good luck returning the dress now! Okay, that might not have been the perfect analogy…

With this law, the Torah does something unprecedented. While still acknowledging the common practices of the ancient world, it calls for the Israelites to do something countercultural: to recognize the human dignity of a captive by seeing her as an individual, rather than as an anonymous prisoner of war.

As you can see, in the past year I’ve developed a deeper relationship with Torah. There’s so much more to it than thinking it’s either perfect or completely outdated.

I’ve learned about humility and patience through Moses, leadership from Jethro, and the importance of opting into community through the construction of the tabernacle, just to name a few other examples.

From creation → revelation → redemption, this is our great story. And just like Abraham, who listened to “Lech lecha” and left everything he knew, and just like the Israelites, who left Egypt in pursuit of freedom, I choose to opt into that story, too. I want to see myself not just as someone who inherits this story, who had to learn a part of it at the age of 12 and never thought about it again, but as someone who chooses to be part of it. And through learning more Torah, and celebrating Torah in the streets of Brooklyn on a cool Autumn night, I feel like I am making that choice. And what joyous choice it is.

Bonus Torah recs!

I received Katia Bolotin’s Making It Relevant: Timeless Torah Wisdom for this year’s Torah cycle, and I can’t wait to deepen my parsha learning with it. Get the book so we can learn together! Virtual chevruta?!

I also received delicious Shabbat discussion cards from M2: The Institute for Experiental Jewish Learning to enhance my Friday night meals!

Shabbat Shalom! Lech lecha,

💦 If you like Torah, check out these Drops:

Dear friends,

Before we dive into Jewish joy today, I want to start out with some joy of my own:

The Drop has reached over 1,000 subscribers. 🎉 This has been a dream of mine since I started it four years ago!

Thank you to everyone for subscribing, reading even if only occasionally, and putting up with my puns, stories, and attempts at relating niche fandoms to Jewish ideas.

If you’re new here, I’m Miranda in the streets, Maayan in the synagogue seats. 👋 New Yorker, Hebrew learner, explorer of Jewish meaning, and an elder emo.

Despite that last point, I was recently dubbed “the happiest Jewess on Substack.” I’ll take it! But my Jewish joy wasn’t complete until I got the new book, The Art of Jewish Joy, by Amanda Kingloff and Suzy Ultman.

I received a copy of this book from the publisher (thanks, Chronicle Books!) in exchange for an honest review. The thoughts below are entirely my own.

And here’s the honest part: I’m not keen on crafting. Aside from collaging and the occasional watercolor painting (which was more of a Covid hobby anyway), I get lazy and I would much rather just buy something than make it. I know, it seems off-brand.

However, when I met Amanda at a day of camp for Jewish professionals handing out Jewish joy stickers to promote her upcoming book about joy and art, I needed to get my hands on this book.

I needed it on my Jewish bookshelf because A) I mean look at that colorful cover, B) it’s perfect for children and I collect books for my future children like the freak that I am, and C) I like seeing how educators creatively teach about Judaism!

Suzy Ultman (left) is an Ohio-based illustrator, author, and toy maker. Her shop is ridiculously cute, full of smiling heart-shaped stickers and children’s books, one of which (How Do You Jew?) I just realized is also in my future children’s book pile.

Amanda Kingloff (right) is the founder of Project Kid, which helps families build imaginative, beautiful lives through hands-on creativity.

But when this occasional dabbler in arts and crafts (that’s me) sat down to review The Art of Jewish Joy, I figured I needed to get the full experience and make some art myself!

Because, as Suzy and Amanda point out, Judaism is about doing. There’s a lot of physicality while connecting to the traditions, like baking challah and shaking the lulav and etrog (which is an activity in the book: making your own lulav and etrog!).

As I was flipping through the book’s 50 artsy activities, from creating Purim puppets to butterflies, inspired by the famous Holocaust poem, “The Butterfly”, which I reference in this Drop, I stopped at Sukkot. Why not make art for an upcoming holiday?

Paper flowers to decorate your sukkah seemed pretty easy. While I don’t have a sukkah (I live in Manhattan), I could make these flowers and bring them to my friend’s sukkah on Saturday!

But the activity, called Invitation to the Past, wasn’t just gluing construction-paper flora to green pipe cleaners (to see the final results, scroll to the end of this post). It was also a learning moment about the Sukkot tradition of Ushpizin.

Ushpizin is a Kabbalistic Sukkot tradition in which people symbolically invite biblical ancestors into the sukkah as honored guests. The word comes from Aramaic and means “guests” or “visitors.”

And I had never heard of it before!

In modern years, biblical matriarchs (Ushpizot) have been included in this tradition of hospitality as well. Each guest represents traditional values, inviting not only the person but what they represented as well.

In the Sukkot activity, after you make your flowers, you write the ushpizin/ot you’re inviting into your sukkah on the paper petals.

But hold up… who was Abigail?! And Huldah? And why were they included in this list of esteemed biblical figures, while Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah were passed over, to use another biblical reference?

I asked a couple of Jewish friends, and they didn’t know who Abigail and Huldah were either. Dear reader, do you know? Write in the comments - points to you if you already knew who they were!

This seemed like another learning moment, so here’s my quick research:

Abigail: One of King David’s wives. She was married to Nabal, and when he insulted David, Abigail intervened with gifts and diplomacy, preventing David from taking revenge. After Nabal’s death, she became David’s wife. She’s remembered for her wisdom and ability to prevent violence. She appears in the Books of Samuel. Read more about her here.

Huldah: A prophetess living in Jerusalem during the reign of King Josiah. When the priests discovered a scroll of the Torah in the Temple, Josiah’s officials consulted Huldah, who delivered a prophetic message about its significance and Judah’s future. She’s remembered for her religious authority and judgment. She appears in Kings and Chronicles. Read more about her here.

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These women are included in Ushpizot because they were listed as important prophetesses in the Talmud.

I found this modern list of Ushpizot, including female leaders like Golda Meir and Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Another question for you: Whose spirit from the modern era would you invite into your sukkah?

And how did my flowers turn out, you may be wondering?

Well, the tacky glue I bought didn’t stick to the pipe cleaners AT ALL and I grew frustrated, but I had fun because I made Phil make them with me.

As you can see, I invited the spirit of Esther into my metaphorical sukkah for her bravery in standing up to hatred and injustice to save the Jewish people, even though I have a soft spot for Deborah. Fun fact: my last name comes from Deborah’s husband, Lapidoth! Phil chose King David for his leadership. If only I chose Abigail, we could have been a match made in Jewish heaven.

The Art of Jewish Joy is a fun way to learn and connect to the holidays! It’s perfect for parents, and even people who dislike arts and crafts.

Shabbat Shalom and chag sameach!
May you have more strength than tacky glue,

💦 If you like biblical women, check out these Drops:

Last month, I experienced one of the greatest nights of my life when I saw My Chemical Romance for the third time at Citi Field. It was unlike any concert I’ve ever been to (yes, even Phish!).

80,000 fans screamed “I’m not okay” at the top of our lungs so all of Queens could hear us. The stadium was lit up by just as many glowing, swaying phone lights. There were theatrics. Fake blood. Probably real blood at some point. An actor running across the stage completely engulfed in flames.

My Chemical Romance is an emo pop-punk band that formed after its front man, Gerard Way, witnessed the Twin Towers going down on 9/11 from a ferry on the Hudson River.

With four successful albums and millions of fans around the globe, My Chemical Romance sings about revenge, death, vampires, and a post-apocalyptic world. They also prompt my adult self to wonder, “Why on earth did my mom let me listen to this violent, angry music as a young, impressionable teen?”

But for all their screamy angst and imagery around death, the band is pro-life. Not, like, abortion pro-life, but pro-living. Resilience. Surviving tough stuff and coming out stronger on the other side.

Which is probably why their lyrics, not to mention their boyish-looking, eyeliner-wearing singer, appealed to my lonely, shy teenage self.

The concert reminded me of who I am at my deepest core.

After all, we meet this time of year with teshuvah, or returning to G-d, but also returning to your soul, or your teruah-est self. Yes, that was a shofar pun.

My Chemical Romance, also known as MCR or My Chem, is imprinted on my soul, along with dancing skeletons in parade uniform, Mother War, and primal, cathartic screaming. Whenever I hear a ringing G note played on piano, I perk up, expecting to hear the rest of the notes that begin their most famous song “Welcome to the Black Parade.” So seeing them live felt like coming home, and nothing you can say can stop me going home. Yes, that’s an MCR lyric.

Now come one, come all to this tragic affair

There’s a deeper connection, though, between MCR and the Holy Days.

Yom Kippur, which begins Sunday evening, is the Jews’ Day of Atonement. We fast, pray, we ask G-d to forgive us for our sins, and we think about how we want to be better in the new year.

It’s also the day we imagine our own death. The Unetaneh Tokef prayer, the central liturgy of the holidays, asks, “Who will live and who will die?”, asking us to confront our own mortality as we reflect on how we’ve behaved in the past year.

It’s said G-d has three books open on this day: the Book of Life, the Book of the Death, and the Book of the In-Between. Those judged righteous are inscribed for another year of life. Those deemed wicked are inscribed for death. Those in the gray area are judged until Yom Kippur.

In memento mori fashion, the holiday urges us to reflect on who we’ve been and who we’d like to be. It asks us, “If these were your last days of life, would you really want to spend them gossiping, holding grudges, or putting off the things that matter most?”

To get in this mindset, Jews typically rehearse for their death on Yom Kippur by fasting, wearing white, and refraining from sexual intimacy and physical comforts like bathing and brushing their teeth (which, if you’ve smelled my breath in the morning, can smell like death itself). Being so conscious of death helps us contemplate life.

There’s also the Yizkor service to remember loved ones who have died.

So, death is a ubiquitous theme on Yom Kippur. It also plays a big role on My Chem’s 2006 album, The Black Parade.

The Black Parade’s march toward death

The conceptual rock opera follows a character named The Patient who is dying of cancer. As he confronts death, which comes to him as a parade from his childhood memories, he confronts his life, including his relationships, regrets, anger, and the fear of dying.

The album sequentially explores these themes, starting with “Dead!”, a darkly upbeat song with hard electric guitar riffs:

And if your heart stops beating
I'll be here wondering
Did you get what you deserve?
The ending of your life

Kind of an Unetaneh Tokef prayer itself, no? Imagine dying, arriving to Jewish heaven, and G-d is just singing My Chemical Romance!

“Dead!” gives us a glimpse into The Patient’s personality pre-teshuvah: sarcastic, bitter, and making light of his situation. Possibly using humor to hide his fear and the responsibility he has to make things right before he dies: “If life ain’t just a joke, then why are we laughing?”

By the middle of the album, The Patient begins to accept that death is near. We see this in the album’s most famous song “Welcome to the Black Parade,” as he recalls a childhood memory of his father taking him into the city to see a marching band. The memory comforts him and gives his life meaning.

Like Yom Kippur, death almost becomes a dramatic spectacle for our protagonist, one that looms too large to think about anything else. The theatrics of the procession easing him toward the end reflect on who he was and who he wants to be in the little time he has left.

The Patient makes meaning of this, and decides he’s going to be the “savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned, “ just like his father asked of him as a boy.

By the record’s end, The Patient has made peace with his sins, his broken relationships, and death. In “Famous Last Words,” he’s talking to his lover (or perhaps G-d?) and says:

I am not afraid to keep on living
I am not afraid to walk this world alone
Honey, if you stay, I'll be forgiven
Nothing you can say can stop me going home

Up until this point, we’ve listened to The Patient recall his agony through his physical suffering (“Cancer”), alcoholism (“The Sharpest Lives”), sleepless nights (“Sleep”), life’s disappointments (“Disenchantment”), and broken relationships (“I Don’t Love You”).

But the tone shifts in “Famous Last Words” to something more positive. In this song, he’s saying, “I’ve meditated on death, and I choose to keep living for as long as I can, despite fear, pain, and uncertainty.” And hopefully he betters himself in the process. With his renewed commitment to life, I’m sure he will.

Moses bonus!

We (and MCR) are not the only ones contemplating death. During this time of year, we read the parshiyot in the Torah when Moses is giving his final speech to the Israelites as he approaches the end of his life. He “remembers the days of old” as he recounts their exodus from Egypt, their covenant with G-d, the mitzvot, and the fact that they are about to enter the Promised Land and might forget where they came from.

Thus, Deuteronomy is Moses’s Black Parade, as he imparts wisdom to the people as if he were the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned. Or, more accurately, reminding them that G-d is the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned.

So, this Sunday/Monday, even if you’re not fasting, take some time to think about what you could change, repair, or pursue to give your life meaning. We only get one, after all.

I will end with one of the last verses in the Unetaneh Tokef prayer to keep us humble:

Man’s origin is dust and his end is unto dust. He earns his bread at the risk of his life. He is likened to a broken potsherd, to withering grass, to a fading flower, to a passing shadow, to a vanishing cloud, to a blowing wind, to dust that scatters and to a fleeting dream.

Shabbat Shalom. May you be inscribed in the Book of Life!

Awake and unafraid,

💦 If you like Yom Kippur, check out these Drops:

Dear Jews and allies,

The time has come. Rosh Hashanah starts at sundown tonight!

Are you completely prepared? Did you buy your apples and honey? Did you think about how you want to better yourself for the new year?

In preparation, I’ve been involved in not one but two Elul workshops! I just can’t get enough. I’m addicted to self-improvement. And yet, I can’t seem to improve. Or I do, and then revert to my old ways.

Last week, someone commented that I seem “spiritually wealthy.”

At first, I was taken by this poetic turn of phrase.

Then, I thought, “Am I wealthy in spirit?”

Yes, I’ve been deepening my relationship with Hashem, journaling more, and using my phone less on Shabbat.

But last week, I went against my values and ate shellfish on Shabbat1. Then, to make up for it, I planned on going to a Selichot service, but then stayed home and streamed a bit of it until I fell asleep.

And those are just a couple of the things making me feel a bit scattered right now. When I’m not disappointing myself by my lack of discipline (not too much, I know to go easy on myself!), my mind is focused on returning to work and office life after a remote summer, learning as much as I can about Israeli elections, and trying to be my best self this holiday season.

One source of Jewish wisdom and grounding I’ve turned to is my new friend ’s Illuminated Paths deck.

Kind of like a Jewish oracle deck, this 52-card set uses Torah and color theory to bring wisdom to your everyday life!

Think tarot but each card contains a Jewish value with a corresponding illustration and Hebrew word. The guidebook provides insight following the PaRDeS method of Jewish learning: the direct (Pshat), symbolic (Remez), interpretive (Drash), and intuitive (Sod).

The cards also come with an Oracolor wheel, divided among pathways for the mind, body, and heart. Inspired by the Tree of Life, an ancient Jewish map of the soul, the wheel organizes different dimensions of human experience into a color-based circular system. The wheel moves from darker colors to lighter ones, representing a path from inner darkness to inner light. Dark cards or positions on the wheel are invitations to transform and grow.

Debbie came up with this color map in 2020 while lost in the woods during Elul. Her system helps people access the wisdom that is already within them through color which people intuitively understand. Plus, it’s beautiful!

A Rosh Hashanah spread for you

I pulled a “Climb the Mountain” spread to prepare you for chagim season! Like Moses ascending Mount Sinai to receive wisdom for the journey ahead, this spread provides guidance to address a question you may have.

I asked the cards a question for you: “What wisdom do I need to fully embrace Rosh Hashanah this year?”

This spread involves drawing five cards placed at the base, partway up, at the peak, partway down the other side, and at the base on the other side, representing foundation, energy needed, Torah wisdom, practical guidance, and outcome. Let’s look at your results:

Your foundation: Peace / שלום

This card represents the energy or effort that brought you here. This energy has served you, but it’s no longer your focus.

And what a great place to start! Just as all colors merge to form white light, embracing every part of yourself reveals your inherent wholeness. Perhaps you started your Rosh Hashanah preparation from a place of inner balance and harmony. Lucky you!

Your next step: Pain / רעים

This card represents the energy you need to move forward.

Boy, that took a turn. Just like in life! Pain, whether physical or emotional, is a messenger. When met with awareness, it becomes a guide back to alignment. May you honor what your body or mind reveals to you during this time.

Lesson being learned: Confidence / נצח

This card shows your “Your Torah,” the wisdom that answers your question. Reflect on how to apply this insight to your current situation.

Confidence is trusting in your abilities and playing to your strengths. Netzach, often translated as “endurance” or “perseverance,” is the energy that sustains us through challenges. Try keeping a Strengths Journal: after every win - big or small - write down what you did and how it felt. Revisit this journal whenever you need to remind yourself of your strengths.

Advice from higher self: Resilience / סבלנות

In the real world, you don’t live at the top of the mountain. This card reveals your soul’s insight for how to bring the lesson’s wisdom into daily life.

Similarly to the Confidence card, resilience is staying present through discomfort. This requires patience, or savlanut. The Piaseczner Rebbe taught, “The deepest secret of Torah is your own.” Reflect on where in your life you feel challenged, whether it’s a tough conversation with a friend or learning a new skill. Leaning into the discomfort reveals strengths you never knew you had. More for your Strengths Journal!

Outcome: Ritual / מעשה

This card reveals the outcome of your current question—not your whole journey. When you reach this point, new questions will arise and new mountains await.

Okay, I actually gasped when I pulled this card. To end on Ritual for a Rosh Hashanah reading? Magic! This card is all about making ordinary moments extraordinary, from waking up in the morning to greeting someone with love. The word for sacred act, ma’aseh, comes from the kabbalistic realm of action, Asiyah, where spirit becomes real. Even the smallest action, done with intention, brings spirit into form. Pick one simple action this week and turn it into a moment of meaning.

Analysis

I don’t know how this landed for you, but this spread got me thinking about playing to my Jewish strengths rather than beating myself up for slip ups.

The cards tell me: You don’t have to reinvent yourself to have confidence; you already have what you need. But don’t just breeze past the discomfort. If you’re feeling stuck in a place of pain or challenge, explore it. Learn from it. That’s your Torah.

Then, turn those insights into action. Even if you don’t know what to do about the uncomfortable feelings, light candles on time. Tonight at 6:53pm ET if you’re in New York. Send someone a nice note. Or even better, call them.

And if this analysis wasn’t satisfying, Debbie gives professional readings with the cards over Zoom! She gave me one and it was clarifying. And not just because my foundation card was Clarity.

Shabbat Shalom and l’shana tova umetukah! Keep chasing the colors,

💦 If you like Jewish cards, check out this Drop:

📅Shabbat Drop-In

Exciting announcement! I am co-leading the NYC chapter of Sword of Iron! So if you want to volunteer for Israel and meet like-minded people, message/email me and I’ll send you the form to fill out to join. We’ll be meeting once a month to do good together! ❤️

Zdravo!

Phil and I were just in Croatia for 10 days. Started out in Zagreb, then we drove over to the coast and went city and island hopping.

I didn’t expect this trip to be that Jewish, especially when I was making Shabbos plans in preparation for it. I was told by one synagogue that they only have services for the High Holidays, while another told me they’re closed for summer break. Off to a good start…

Then, during one of our meals on the trip, our appetizer was served, unbeknownst to us, plated on a makeshift communion wafer. “It’s to receive blessings!” the server said gleefully. I needed all the blessings I can get, so I still ate it, but felt weird about it. Plus, it was one of those tiny Michelin-star plates, so I didn’t have an ounce to waste.

Then there was this waiting for me at the top of a hike:

None of this was a surprise to me, given that there are only about 2,000 Jews in a predominantly Catholic country.

But what I didn’t expect was the magnificence of Croatia’s few Jewish sites, some of which we stumbled upon by accident, and the positive encounters we had with non-Jewish tourists there. Welcome to Jewish Croatia!

An overview of Croatian Jewish history

Jews were living in Salona (modern-day Solin, Croatia), the capital of the Roman province of Dalmatia, from roughly the 2nd to the 4th century C.E. It wasn’t until the 7th century, when Salona was destroyed by Avar and Slavic tribes, that Jews fled to Split and sought refuge in what was left of Diocletian’s Palace, which became the city center.

There, Jews became merchants, traders, and doctors in two important coastal cities - Split and Dubrovnik - which we’ll read about shortly.

15th-century persecution brought Jews from Spain, Portugal, and Italy to Croatia, where they established communities with synagogues and cemeteries. Under Venetian rule (15th-18th centuries), the two Jewish groups were known as Ponentini, the westerners, and Levantini, those from the Ottoman east.

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Then, of course, came the Holocaust. Okay, we may skipping some history here, but I’m touching on major events. In 1941, Axis powers invaded Yugoslavia, which soon collapsed. The fascist Ustaša movement established the Independent State of Croatia, backed by Germany and Italy.

Under this movement, Jews faced antisemitic laws, confiscation of their property, and eventually deportation and murder.

In Zagreb, we were surprised to come across a stumbling stone. We found the stone - my first stumbling stone sighting - walking back from an unsuccessful search for the synagogue. The brass plaque commemorated Lea Deutsch, a child actress known as Croatia’s Shirley Temple, who was taken from her home in May 1943 and died in transport to Auschwitz at the age of 16. Imagine all she could have accomplished with the rest of her life. May her memory be a blessing.

Italy occupied the coast, where Jews had a somewhat different and less severe experience. Italian authorities burned synagogues and all sacred objects inside them, but they generally pushed back against German demands to deport Jews from the territories they occupied. Some Jews actually fled to Italian-controlled areas for safety. After Italy surrendered in September 1943, Germany occupied those territories too, enforcing their stricter policies.

About 80% of Croatia’s Jews (around 30,000) perished in the Holocaust.

Today, there are about 2,000 Jews living in Croatia. While Croatia has rich Sephardic history, today’s Jews are predominantly Ashkenazi.

A Jewish tour of Split and Dubronvik

Split

I mentioned Jews took refuge in Diocletian’s Palace, which we visited. The museum said masons at the time carved their religious symbols into the stone, such as menorahs and crosses! Unfortunately, we didn’t spot any carvings in the light stone. It’s too bad our buddy, Shlomo the Freemason, wasn’t there - maybe he could have spotted a historical mason mark!

The Split synagogue was built in the 16th century directly into the western wall of Diocletian's Palace. It’s located in two medieval houses in Split’s former ghetto, which was one small passage called Židovski prolaz (Jewish Lane).

Just down the street from Jewish Lane is the Morpurgo Bookstore. Opened in 1860 by Vid Morpurgo, a prominent Jewish publisher and politician, it survived the Holocaust, when fascists were burning many books and buildings in the area.

Today, it remains one of the oldest operating bookstores in Europe. And I’m happy to report it sells romantasy books, not to mention Noa Tishby’s book on Israel (in Croatian, no less!).

Phil and I then wandered into Marjan Forest Park for a lovely day of walking, when I noticed there was a Jewish cemetery on the map! The Old Jewish Cemetery, established in 1573, has about 700 tombstones overlooking the Adriatic from a sloping hill. It’s the most beautiful Jewish cemetery I’ve ever been to.

And probably the most memorable, for we had a positive interaction there!

As soon as we entered the cemetery, we saw a family - two parents and their son - place stones on two prominent tombstones near the entrance. I asked if they knew who was buried there.

They said no, and kindly explained it’s Jewish custom to place stones on graves to honor the dead. Phil and I politely smiled as this family explained Jewish custom to us.

Then, they asked if we were Jewish, and I proudly said yes. I felt safe to do so - surely someone who hates Jews wouldn’t spend a gorgeous day hanging out in a cemetery.

They explained they’re Evangelicals from France, and wanted to pay their respects because they know how important it is to never forget what happened to Jews during the Holocaust.

We ended up talking with them for quite some time about Holocaust education in France, antisemitism in both France and the U.S., and politics. Midway through the conversation, I noticed we were talking about these Jewish topics over the graves of Jews who died in 1900. After everything this local community had faced over the centuries, Jews were still here, and so were people who cared enough to honor their memories.

Speaking of honoring memories, we came across the gravesite of bookstore owner Vid Morpurgo (1838-1911), and paid our respects.

I found a translation of his gravestone inscription:

Exalted in mind, noble in spirit, all his life of intellectual work he dedicated to people’s liberation from spiritual and material slavery, and in awakening of people. Founder of the first bookstore, first bank, first factories, left unfillable emptiness when died.

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Dubrovnik

About 150 miles down the coastline from Split is Dubrovnik, a medieval, fortified city right on the water, known for its Game of Thrones filming locations.

But what’s even more impressive is its enduring Jewish presence, dating back to 1368, with documentation of Jewish merchants.

In 1538, the government allowed its 250 Jews to settle within the city walls (so generous of them). Then in 1546, dozens of Jews were confined to a ghetto, located on “Jewish Street” near the city center. The ghetto’s conditions weren’t nearly as bad as other European ghettos; Jews could come and go freely throughout the day, but the gates were locked at night.

We visited Jewish Street, which is today lined with restaurants serving all kinds of pork. Go figure.

Unlike the synagogue in Split, you can tour the Dubrovnik Synagogue on Jewish Street. Known as the Old Synagogue, as it was built in 1547, it is the oldest Sephardic synagogue still in use today in the world and the second oldest synagogue in Europe.

You can view the Baroque-styled sanctuary, restored after a 1667 earthquake, and used for High Holiday services. They also have a small museum, which features three Spanish and Italian Torah scrolls dating back to the 16th century which were buried during the Holocaust in a nearby village. I tried to take to take a picture but the lady scolded me :(

Later, while waiting for an Uber on a corner outside of the Old City, I turned around and was shocked at the Hebrew letters on a sign. Phil speculated that it was a cemetery. As usual, he was right.

Upon further research, this was the site of the Dubrovnik Old (everything is old) Jewish Cemetery, built in 1652. Today, it is a fire station, but 30 of the original tombstones remain. One tombstone, from 1745, is used for the floor of the fire station.

Conclusion

I didn’t come to this beautiful country for its Jewish history, nor to experience its local community, like I sometimes do on my travels. But of course, I couldn’t help myself in learning about it and seeking it out.

Croatia’s Jewish past echoes the tragic European history we know all too well. It even had its own famous case of blood libel I didn’t mention. But its community achieved successes, some of which can be seen today. Though its Jewish population is small and largely inactive, its preserved history is worth seeing, a testament to the enduring spirit of the Jews who once lived there. Just don’t come expecting Shabbat plans!

Bonus Story 👀

While drinking spritzes atop a 14th-century tower on Korčula, we became friendly with a man from former Yugoslavia, present-day Bosnia. He was telling us how his family fled to Germany when he was five years old.

After buying us rounds of shots, he started showing us his many tattoos, from "As-salamu alaykum" in Arabic to some countries he’s visited.

As he lifted his shorts to show us his inked travel history, my eyes immediately went to a familiar country outline.

“Ooh, boy, here we go,” I thought. My vacation-induced, lavender-spritz buzz began to fade as I prepared myself for defense mode. I didn’t want a repeat of my Iceland story, when someone told me they boycotted Eurovision because of Israel and I said nothing.

“And this is Israel!” he pointed to his tattoo proudly. “I lived in Tel Aviv for a time.”

Well, that was quite a surprise. He told us he worked for a company that made jet parts and was assisting Israel.

When we told him that outline could represent Palestine for some people, he rolled his eyes and was having none of it. A part of me wondered if he had this strong reaction because he had experienced the realities of war firsthand, instead of learning from news headlines. A different war, but still.

Phil told him stories of living in Israel during the Second Intifada. This interaction was a reminder of the importance of listening to firsthand perspectives, and that you can find allies in the most unexpected places.

“There’s a dove next to Israel for peace,” he said with hope. May it be so.

Shabbos!

Further Reading

Jews in Salona

Sephardic Jews of Croatia: Dubrovnik, Split, and the Dalmatian Coast

Axis Invasion of Yugoslavia

Dubrovnik Old Jewish Cemetery

Dubrovnik’s question: Does a synagogue need Jews

💦 If you like Jewish travel, check out these Drops:

Greetings from Croatia! That’s what my g’luyah to you would say.

We’re smack dab in the middle of Elul, the month of reflection, returning, repair, and retrograde (kidding about that last one, I just wanted another R word, but maybe it is? I don’t understand that stuff).

And on a personal note, Elul happens to be my birth month! I was actually 32 years old when I realized this, which feels like just yesterday, because, well, it was! That’s right - today is my English birthday.

I always assumed Av was my Hebrew birth month, since I was born in August. Especially in a recent class taught by the ever-so-chic Rabbi Arielle Stein of Congregation Rodeph Shalom (the class was at Central Synagogue), when she showed us a list of the Hebrew months and their corresponding mazalot (constellations, like zodiac signs but older!) and Jewish tribes.

My eyes immediately went to Av and its mazal. A lion. Hell yeah. Totally makes sense.

I’ve always drawn inspiration from the Lion of Judah, the Jewish symbol for strength. My experience in Israel last year during Operation Rising Lion only reinforced that feeling, and for years I’ve had this image of the Iron Dome saved on my desktop because I thought it was cool:

Imagine my surprise when a couple of weeks ago, I looked up my Jewish birthday (thanks Chabad!) and realized my Hebrew birthday is, in fact, the 11th of Elul. Oops. Or maybe I forgot?

Which makes me quite relieved, because Av is an intense month to have a birthday. As we know, Av is the saddest month, leading up to the commemoration of the destruction of our Temple and other Jewish calamities.

Upon reflection (pun intended), it makes sense Elul is my birth month for a couple of reasons.

One: I’m always reflecting! I love to journal, and I set quarterly goals for myself and then review how I did. I also love a good Rosh Chodesh circle to reflect on the themes of the upcoming month.

Two: As I wrote in this previous Drop, the flower of the Elul is the rose. 🌹 This is fitting because every Shabbat, in Jewish camp fashion, I share my “rose of the week,” or my highlight of the week and make whoever I’m spending Shabbat with share theirs, too. While not my favorite flower, which is the ranunculus, the rose speaks to my reflective soul!

Three: The tribe associated with Elul is the tribe of Gad, representing fortune, military prowess, and being attacked but ultimately overcoming. Not to sound like an astrology girlie who always reads her horoscope and thinks, “Yes, yes, that’s so me - I DO face trials and tribulations and can overcome them!”, the traits of Gad remind me of how I reconnected with my Judaism in the first place: through the military might of (and my brother joining) the IDF. Also, I AM a warrior who is constantly attacked but nevertheless overcomes - I mean, have you seen the stupid, nasty comments I get on my social media?! They only make me stronger, and by that I mean prouder to be Jewish.

Four: The Hebrew letter associated with Elul is yud (י). In Kabbalah, this represents the foundation, the initial divine spark of wisdom in which something is created from nothing. And my Hebrew name, מעיין, has two yuds in it! Maybe that’s why I’ve always been drawn to the idea of taking a small spark of Torah and turning it into a shareable, bite-sized Drop through writing: one divine spark for me, one for you. Double your divine spark, double your fun! ✨

The only Elul trait I don’t connect with is its mazal, the betulah, or virgin. Even though my sign is Virgo, that’s where the similarities end.

My birthday blessing to all of you:

May you find your divine inner spark that lights up your Jewish soul. May you be a warrior who overcomes. And may you find out your exact Hebrew birthday so you don’t make the same mistake I did.

Good Shabbos! Time to party,

💦 If you like Elul, check out these Drops:

As some of you know, my dad plays a pivotal role here on the Drop, from reminiscing about his Holocaust studies program, to sharing life advice and his favorite Jewish women. He always either makes us laugh or makes us think.

And guess what? His birthday is on Tuesday!

Every Friday before his birthday, I ask him to contribute wisdom here, even though he prefers half-sour pickles to full sour, which isn’t very Jewish nor wise.

Since he’s turning 97, I thought I’d give him a break and let us do the work by saying nice things about him. My mom is being sneaky and (hopefully) deleting this from his inbox before he opens it today, so we can surprise him with it on his actual birthday on Tuesday. Mum’s the word with him about this until then, please! (But I still wanted to send out the Drop, because, well… Friday).

Dad, here’s some of the many people who love you, including people you don’t even know, who wanted to wish you a happy birthday. There were so many messages that the email got too long! Open up the link to view the entire email! Thanks to all who contributed.

And before we begin, here’s a throwback Shabbos greeting from me and the man himself:

From Amy S.: I’d bet every friend Fred has believes he’s one of the most singular people they’ve ever known. Brilliant without ever being intimidating, endlessly curious about people and the world, Fred is both interested and interesting. That rare combination makes him someone you can happily talk to for hours about almost any subject — and I suspect we all have!

Our correspondence has ranged widely: the shortcomings of our 45th/47th president; Fred’s carefully curated list of 11 great sledding hills in New Jersey which he thought I’d make use of; multi-paragraph dissections of Hollywood award nominations; reflections on how the pandemic exposed the structural weaknesses in, well, everything; and his memorable description of a drive-through COVID test: “They take a chopstick stolen from a take-out place and jam it in my nostril to see if it can reach my ankle.” Medical accuracy was not his concern; narrative impact was. This fellow writer recognizes game.

Fred and I share a love of Shakespeare. When I asked his favorite character, Fred answered without hesitation: Falstaff. “Because he eats, drinks, and avoids getting hurt. What more could one want from life?” It’s a very Fred answer. Falstaff may be rejected by those he loves, but that’s where the comparison ends. Fred, in contrast, is loved by all.

And he’s a terrific dad — something anyone can see just by knowing his kids. When Maddy, Miranda, Becca, and I visit, we often invite Fred. His standard reply is something like, “Thanks, but no thanks … ladies need to talk lady stuff and I’d be a firewall. But I appreciate the invite. It gives me a chance alone to catch up on my secret sites I visit.”

Those “secret sites” may well have inspired his blog, Extra Good Shit, which Fred has spent years curating exactly what the title promises: fascinating, funny, and thought-provoking things the rest of us are better for having seen.

I happen to know that Fred loves cookies which I take great pleasure in sending him on his birthday. Eleven years ago, on his 86th, he was especially taken with the packaging: two cookies per packet. He wrote me: “They stick together and so rather than trying to take just one and save the other, I have to eat them both.” A man defeated not by temptation, but by packaging design.

On a recent email exchange when we once again lamented the state of our union, I suggested I could buy a huge house in Belgium where we could all live together. Fred countered: “Only if I can have Belgian waffles daily.” I can’t imagine anything sweeter than sharing Belgian waffles — and conversations — with Fred for eternity.

Happy 97th birthday, Fred! The world is infinitely more interesting because you’re in it.

Nick L.: Thanks Fred for being a confidant, someone who is never afraid to share a good story, or to provide a sound opinion. Your love of pizza, Jewish delicacies, and Connecticut is inspiring. Thanks for opening the eyes of the younger generations to what is possible as we age gracefully and to know the varying life paths exist out there in the world which can lead to contentment and happiness!

From Donna: The year was 1983 (maybe even earlier) when I first met Fred while dating Scott.

Fred and I were the only “outsiders” in the family which gave us a special bond which I still feel to this day. He always put me at ease at family gatherings with his off-kilter joking or silly quips that would ease my anxiety. I always looked forward to Fred being there.

Through the years, the bond has carried on. He continues to pass along his unique brand of humor, enlightening me with his wisdom and extensive knowledge, keeping me updated with impressive articles that he continues to send.

I have loved watching him as a dedicated husband, father, brother in law and friend.

I look up to him with such admiration and love. Happy 97, my cherished friend! ❤️❤️

From Scott: Fred, I’ve loved you from the 3rd time I met you. The first time you took me to a bar and I got in an argument with some psychopathic war veteran with bad PTSD. You identified him as a friend of yours. I wasn’t sure I liked your friends that day. The second time, I met you, you and Maddy were arguing and I started yelling like an idiot. I wasn’t sure I liked me that day.

The third time, I completely got it. This was going to be one of the greatest love stories ever written. Maddy loved you, you loved her. And I started to fall in love with you. And yes, in a sexual way.

But bad jokes aside, there are plenty of people walking around that remind you of other people, but there is only one Fred. An original that can never be duplicated, dare I say the love child of Groucho Marx and Jack Kerouac.

There’s one Prince, one Madonna, one Woody (not Harrelson, the “this land is our land“ Woody, and there is only one Fred. In fact, if I meet another person named Fred, I spit at them and say “you’ll never be him.”

Thank you so much for being in our lives. You are the centerpiece to this odd little loving family we have. You are adored by your children, your wife, friends, Donna, and me. Happy birthday.

From Morty: After a Shakespeare class in college there was only one other student interested in talking about the plays, their plots and characters. He was a vet from New Haven who was intelligent and insightful and we enjoyed a developing friendship. After graduation we were in the same circle of friends in the White Horse and Greenwich Village. We stayed in touch sporadically in the decades that followed, and in 1994, both retired, we began lunching weekly in New Haven, and he has enriched my life ever since.

Hang in there buddy.

From Jason: In recent years it has been my pleasure to bring my father to lunch with Fred every two weeks or so. I really enjoy hearing them reminisce, crack jokes, and tell stories about the time before the last ice age! The Kvetching is next level and can be hilarious at times.

Fred, I can’t believe you’re going to be 97! You don’t look a day over 96! Happy Birthday, Fred!

From Emily: A love letter to my friend on his birthday four score and seventeenth birthday:

So typically when we meet I am embraced as a cherished friend. You tell me some piece of trivia or share a joke. You may update me on a piece of news on the latest unbelievable presidential shenanigans or even the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s matrimonial plans. Then inevitably I ask you a question. You never give a direct answer to any inquiry small or large relevant or irreverent. First, you respond with a quick and witty quip. I in turn humor you and am willing to go wherever you want to go in this conversation. Then you shift to something that may or may not be collaterally related to my inquiry.

But next is the most fun part. Maddy, flittering around, leans into the question and is not having any part of your nonsense. She then leans into you for a real and honest answer. She nudges you gently, thinks she is giving you clarity about what was asked, gives you suggestions and shares her response to the question. It takes many volleys back and forth between the two of you for you to reveal a true and serious answer. Then Maddy and I sit back satisfied and satiated by your disclosure. FYI: Google (a source without inaccuracies) stated that a person, and even more so, a man that reaches their 97 birthday can be described as: Rare, Exceptional, and Elite. An apt description of you my friend.

From Hannah S.: How lucky am I to have an uncle like you? You’ve always made me laugh, asking me how my bitch of a mother was or singing back to the workers while buying Miranda and I ice cream at ColdStone, but you also have the biggest heart. Thanks for always accepting me as I am and always making me feel loved. And for teaching me extremely crude jokes (because that’s what uncles are for, after all!). Love you so much! And happy 97th to the best there is!

From Becca: Happy 97th birthday, Fred! 🎉 I don’t have nearly as many memories with you as I’d like, but a memorable one that stuck with me is walking in on you and your computer years ago and discovering that you had, let’s say, a very unique way of getting people interested in the many fascinating things you wrote about. 😉 It was an unforgettable moment for a naive college girl!

You are an interesting, smart, and wonderfully unique person. Maddy and Miranda are pretty amazing women, so you must be doing something right! ❤️

So many people are thinking of you on this special day and how much you mean to them. Lucky us to know you and be part of the Frediverse.

From Tricia: I honestly can’t remember exactly when I first met you, Fred. But I do know one thing for certain: if you loved my Maddy, you were already good with me.

Maddy and I met at work more than 25 years ago, but sometimes I think our friendship was meant to happen long before that. We went to the same university, we both graduated on the same day you married each other and we still didn’t know each other. The day I got married was the day she gave birth to your daughter—and still, we didn’t know each other. And finally our paths finally crossed, and Maddy became the sister from another mother. And with Maddy came the people she loves—including you.

Over the years, I’ve come to know what an extraordinary man you are. 97 years of life, history, learning, teaching and, I’m sure, more than a few strong opinions! An English professor, a lover of Shakespeare, politics, knowledge and conversation, and a member of a generation who earned the opportunity for a college education through the GI Bill—you are worth celebrating.

But of all the things I could say about you, what has always mattered most to me is very simple: you love my best friend. And anyone who loves Maddy has a special place in my heart.

Happy 97th Birthday, Fred. What an incredible milestone and an incredible life. I hope you know how many lives you have touched along the way—and how very loved you are.

From Kevin: Hey Fred. I know that if Tricia and Maddy weren’t good friends I most likely would’ve missed out on knowing you. I always felt that when we do get the opportunity to meet we can dive right into the world of things people don’t usually want to talk about at social gatherings. The good shit and the bad shit. You were like some of drinking buddies from my Harvard Square daze. You have been around longer than I but have always kept up with the times. Thanks for all the little music tidbit emails and the talks we’ve had.

Don’t you love this birthday stuff….. Peace☮️

From Paul: I’ve been Fred’s son since 1963. Fred is the son of a factory worker from New Haven, CT. After serving in the Korean War my father went to UCONN on the GI Bill and continued getting his PhD in English.

He spent time in San Francisco along the way, and I think his life’s experience and exposure set the tone for who he became, as it does for us humans. His belief in fairness for the working class perhaps came from his factory working background and or the time spent in San Francisco during a tumultuous and philosophical time. I would often hear much banter amongst his professor colleagues on some very deep topics.

Growing up in small town Trumbull, CT, some things remain clear as if it were yesterday. My father made sure we were exposed to a diverse world bigger than Trumbull. Two very important and sentimental homes away from home are NYC and Provincetown as my father brought us there since I was in a stroller (we even have a family stone at Pilgrims Landing in Ptown).

My father never curbed my overzealous enthusiasm for whatever infatuation and hobby I pursued. From collecting reptiles to martial arts to running, my father supported and even became a partner in my pursuit of these endeavors. My father let me get a snake and with that started a long road of learning and collecting. He would bring home snake “food” from the Bio lab at the University of Bridgeport where he was Chairman of English. He let me have a tank the size of the whole wall in my bedroom (at one time I had twelve snakes). He went to the toilet one night and saw one of my escaped snakes in there and we got it out alive.

Then came running as I joined track in middle school. We ran endless road races and met up with the Milford Road Runners, he took me everywhere to run. One of the fondest memories is us going in his Datsun B210 every weekend to the YMCA in Bridgeport and running with a big group of characters as we made our way down Park Ave and ran Seaside Park and back about six to seven miles.

My father went on to run the NYC Marathon, and I jumped in with him once he hit Central Park with less than three miles to go. We also ran the first annual New Haven Road Race where I got an autograph from running legend and hero Bill Rodgers. Years later we ran the whole 20k race together when my father was 70, I believe.

Sharing the simplest of things like running was underestimated by the young kid I was then but appreciated now more than ever as I am now older than he was then when much of this was taking place.

My father let me indulge in my passions and took part in many. Some of these are still near and dear to me and he is still taking part, often sending me a Bruce Lee article, a snake article, a new running record set.

As I continue to take part or simply observing in these and other things my father will always be there with me, every stride.

From Aaron: Fred! Happy Birthday to my favorite Uncle. Are you really turning 97? I don’t believe it. You don’t look a day over 96. Obviously, I’m kidding. You’re glowing.

Over the years, I’ve always loved sitting with you and listening to your many stories. Some of them totally inappropriate for how old I was, but that just made me love them more. My favorite of these stories is a tale about a fiddler and is wife which, if I’m remembering correctly, ended with her saying:

Too late my love, too late my love,
He has me by the middle.
I’m on my back, he’s up my crack,
you’ve lost your f*cking fiddle.

I can’t wait to share this with my nephew someday. Have an amazing day because you’ve earned it. Love, Aaron

From Blair: Fred, Happy 97th birthday to you! You are a storyteller, a scholar, and an all around treasure. It’s an honor to call you my uncle-in-law and to know and love the Lapides family. Wishing you a wonderful birthday full of great food and even better company. Love you! <3 Blair

Also from Keith: Happy Birthday, Fred.

Birthdays are now, for me, more reflective—an exercise to remind me of this journey—one that has always included you for some 55 years and a lot of mileage indeed.

You have been more than just a close friend—a sage advisor, mentor, and personal confessor since I first met you in 1971. You have been with me through every phase of my life since the beginning at good old UB, and talked me off many of the ledges I found myself on (you always told me you would jump after I went first) or you kicked me in the ass when I needed it. Through a decade of running with you on the Bridgeport campus or prepping for your marathon in the 70s, and, in all the personal and professional challenges of the 80s, 90s, our conversations, phone calls, later email and all our visits to the present day, you have always been there for me and enriched my life and those that I loved (your own journey told me I would get it right one day and you and Maddy were with me when that finally happened). I can also say I have never met someone with your level of humor and quick wit, mixed with a deep humanitarian sense for the good in people. You are a great teacher and never cease to discover new things or reveal new issues for your friends to ponder. And as the world has proved, you will never run out of material to discover and call things in the special way that you see them.

L’chaim, y’didi hayakar — ad me’ah v’esrim, b’vriut u’v’simcha!

From Davey and Stephen:

From Phil: I have several items from the Lapidese hanging over my desk at work: a poem written by Miranda, a drawing by Maddy, and a cutout of a random painting Fred gave me for my birthday. I don't know who the subject of the painting is but Fred says it made him think of me and now it makes me think of him, every day, along with the Library of America book on Breslin he gave me that sits right above my computer. Fred has given me some really good shit, especially his daughter. When you're in love, all shit is good shit. Love you, Fred.

From Russ and Carol: HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRED!

Carol and I wanted to send you our very best wishes for a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

I fondly remember our lunches with you at UB. You and the THREE WISE MEN (aka the Beards - John Nicholas, Dick Daigle and me- your favorite Dean).

You are the only man I have ever thrown a baby shower for. It was quite a celebration just before Mickey’s birth. All the ladies took Maddy out to dinner and left all the guys to figure out how to have a baby shower. It was quite a night. A lot of fun.

There have been so many wonderful memories and we cherish them all. So we send our love and best wishes to you on your big day. Enjoy the celebration and soak up all the love!

From Barbara G.: Fred Lapides is a very experienced 97-year-old man with an irreplaceable spark that often shows up in his eyes. He is also a nonconforming intellectual who has the knack of turning the serious into a comedy replete
with tearful laughing. I met Fred and his wife Maddy in an exercise class for
challenged, yet willing elders. Pausing, after a low impact session using
weights, (also known as training camp for aging Yoga Warriors seeking
Strength, Stamina and Stability), I walked over to visit Fred who was seated in
a chair. While standing next to him talking, I reached over and touched his
hand, feeling its soft warmth and Fred, for a moment, leaned in and folded
his hand around mine. His eyes immediately caught my attention as they
began to glimmer with the slow light of an awakening. An inkling was
beginning to sparkle. Something was about to happen. Fred is playfully
committed to rebellion and resistance, so I held my breath anticipating that a
fascinating idea was coming to life, a familiar story might be taking shape or
a potentially crude joke was about to be revealed. I braced for the punch
line. I’m still braced for the punch line and I can’t keep holding my breath.
Please Fred, since it’s your 97th birthday would you celebrate by sharing one
or two fascinating ideas about academia, or tell a favorite story from your
early childhood, or tell a provocatively salacious joke about the meaning of
life?

Happy Birthday Dear Fred. May you continue to enjoy your deeply abundant
and juicy life. Sending love and congratulations.

From Susan and Len: We first met you on Whatsapp with your daughter Miranda when we were in Israel and now we see some of her wonderful qualities have been passed down from you. We enjoyed celebrating Father’s Day with you, Miranda, Philip and Maddy and we are grateful to share in this chapter of your life. We wish you a blissful birthday and mazel tov on reaching the milestone. We look forward to seeing you again and spending more happy times with you!

From Tom and Maria:

From Henry: Fred! I can't believe you're turning 97. We haven't seen much of each other since I visited Miranda at home during the pandemic, but I always love seeing updates from you when Miranda shares them. I haven't told you, or perhaps even Miranda, this -- but I will consider it a great success if my life can turn out like yours. To be someone who's spent a lifetime developing intellectual passions, indulging a good sense of humor, and being excited to try new things is a wonderful thing. While we haven't spent a lot of time together, it is obvious to me (as I'm sure it is to you) the influence you have had on shaping Miranda's exceptional character -- and that of many other young people, I'm sure. I hope you spend your birthday surrounded by people that you love, and some good laughter.

From Hannah and Tzachi: Fred, happy birthday!! Wishing you a lot of laughs and nachas from your beautiful family. Thank you for sharing your wonderful daughter with us! With love, Hannah and Tzachi

From Mark:

From Shira: Happy birthday Fred! I’m a friend of Miranda’s and I met you on Zoom one afternoon while Miranda was visiting. You are quite an inspiration!!! Miranda has told me about the seeds you eat and how well you take care of yourself. I think your secret is being generous with your love. Miranda adores you and I admire your relationship. Wishing you a very happy birthday and thank you for being a wonderful role model.

From Netta: Hi Fred, happy birthday!! 🎉🎂 I feel so lucky to have been welcomed into your family and to have shared Thanksgivings and Oscars parties and Train Dreams with you. Looking forward to singing Waltzing Matilda with you soon. Wishing you a very happy birthday and another wonderful year ahead! 💕

From Jean: Joyeux Anniversaire Mr. Lapides! I want to thank you for the wonderful gift you offered me and so many others by being the father of our beloved Miranda. My life would have been so drab if one late afternoon in June of 2025 a very young lady hadn’t sat beside me and shared a very precious moment forever engraved in my heart. Since that time I have known your beautiful family and it has been easy to understand why you radiate so much love and admiration. “O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here!” Indeed! A very Happy Birthday, Fred.

From Ron: A time I recall many years ago was a welcome home for Freddie when he came home from Korea. Everyone was anxious to have him return, especially Matthew Ridgeway. Aunt Bessie greeted me and I asked where Freddie was, she said he was with a friend from Baltimore, Lord Calvert. She was a very very funny lady! Happy birthday Freddie, Cousin Ron

And from your friends on Substack:

From Nabila: Wishing you the happiest of birthdays, Fred! While we have never met, I have quickly become a part of your fan club thanks to your comments on the Shabbat Drops! I was honored by your comment on the Shabbat Drop that featured the story of my community leaving Iran during the Iranian Revolution. Cheers to many more birthdays to come!

From Debbie: Wow! Happy 97th birthday, Fred. I hope it is one filled with love and joy. I am turning 60 this year and am the only one of my father’s four children to reach 60. I am therefore perhaps more acutely aware of the precious and often bittersweet gift of ageing. I wish more people understood what a gift it is. With warmth, Debbie 🌺

From Rina: Brachot of joy for you Fred as you celebrate turning 97! Fred, you must be a true mensch, as I have the pleasure of working with your daughter Miranda, and we all know that the apples don’t fall far from the tree. Mazel tov Fred! Happy birthday to you!

From Inbal: Mazal Tov! Happy Birthday from a fellow Rolling Stones Fan!

From David: Happy birthday! May your pastrami be spicy and you always get what you want!

From Epn: Happy Birthday, Fred! Hope you get a delicious, big deli sandwich (and pickle) to eat while your favorite Stone’s tune is playing!

From Alessandro: Happy birthday! Buon compleanno! A great hug 😄

From Yoni: What a legendary man! Mazal Tov Fred!!!

💦 If you want more Fred, check out these Drops:

Hey friends,

Welcome to another joyful Jewish Friday!

It’s that time of year when the temperatures are higher, the days are slower, and I’m more likely to be found outside reading romantasy than writing indoors. So, August Drops may be a little shorter or more sporadic. Thanks for your patience!

This week’s Drop is simple. As some of you may know, I recently wrote a Substack note complaining about my too-depressing feed. It’s very Jewish, so it can be pretty negative, since there’s a lot of frustrating and scary stuff going on in the world. Like the fact that antisemitic assaults in the UK increased by 82% in the first half of 2026. Or just look at Michigan politics from this week.

While it’s important to make others aware of today’s climate of antisemitism, we can’t always be reactive or angry. We need to be the light in the world. It says so in the Tanakh!

To me, light doesn’t only mean positivity and improving the world. It also means ~keeping things light~. I don’t know about you, but after Tisha B’Av, I could use more of that.

It’s been fun reading the 100+ responses I received! Some commenters, including Jewish personalities I admire, shared links to fellow ‘Jewstackers’. Some shared sweet personal stories. Some non-Jews shared their positive interactions with Jews (love it!!).

I even made connections with all sorts of joyful creators. I’m now featured on the Kosher Duck Revolution website (have I peaked?!), and I’m getting a Torah oracle reading next week!

Thanks to all who commented and contributed. Keep spreading more light. As the Kosher Duck Revolution website says: If hate can go viral, why can’t love?

Here’s the note and some responses. Read all of them here. Enjoy!

✍️ Shabbat Prompt

Now it’s your turn! What’s something that brings you Jewish joy? And why is it so important to embrace that Jewish joy? How do you sustain it?

Feel free to journal about it or write in the comments below (I started in the first comment to kick things off).

Shabbat Shalom. With love and challah,

💦 If you like joy, check out these Drops:

But we’re not talking about pizza today! We’re talking about olive oil, and not just any olive oil, but Sindyanna’s olive oil.

A few months ago, the Park Slope Food Coop (which bothers me that it’s not spelled “Co-op” - their first transgression!) in Brooklyn voted to stop selling a few Israeli products like Bamba (their loss), frozen herbs, tahini, bell peppers.

The vote passed with 67% participating members voting in favor, and took effect the next day.

This was part of the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) Movement, which uses economic pressure to protest the Israeli government’s actions and end oppression for Palestinians.

This all sounds morally compelling and impactful, and like it genuinely cares about peace and social justice, until you learn that the movement and its co-founder support replacing a Jewish-majority state with a Palestinian-majority state, instead of supporting a two-state solution.

Not to mention how easily BDS can cross into discrimination and antisemitism, alienating many Jews who buy Israeli products and making them feel unsafe, as we saw in 2024 Park Slope drama, and more recently here.

Never mind that the movement has had little actual impact. On their website, for example, they cite Israel’s current debt as proof of their impact, as if Israel’s economy wasn’t recently impacted by the tens of billions of dollars it spent on the Israel-Hamas war. Nice try.

But wait - there’s more! BDS’s actions usually backfire and negatively impact the very people it claims to serve by boycotting businesses that employ Palestinian workers.

Which brings us to Sindyanna of Galilee, whose olive oil is no longer sold at the Park Slope Food Co-op. Yep, I used the dash. My Substack, my rules.

I virtually sat down with Hadas Lahav, CEO of Sindyanna, to hear about how her organization brings Jewish and Arab women together to sell Fair Trade products from Arab producers and reinvests the profits into education for Arab women.

Our conversation was a reminder that real peace work is happening on the ground, making the world a better place by choosing compassion, unity, and hard work. I hope it inspires you as much as it inspired me, and that more people wake up to the hypocrisy of BDS.

So, what is Sindyanna, and why did you start it?

Sindyanna (سنديانة الجليل, named after the most common tree in the Galilee, the Palestine oak, renowned for its rootedness to the land, longevity, and endurance) is a nonprofit Fair Trade organization led by a team of Arab and Jewish women.

We established Sindyanna in 1996 as an official NGO. The idea didn’t come out of the blue. It was a culmination of longtime activities among the Arab population inside Israel. It is very important to understand that inside Israel, more than 20% of the citizens are of Palestinian origin. This minority suffers from discrimination and racist attitudes, especially now when we have such a right-wing extreme government.

What we noticed is that the weaker part of Arab society in Israel is the women, because of geographical and traditional factors. The majority of the Arab women at that time (about 80%) did not have any opportunity to work outside their homes. This means that they were dependent economically on the men in the family, and could not be independent.

We saw that if we want to build trust between Arab and Jewish citizens in Israel, which seemed to us at that time the most important thing for building a healthier and more just society, we have to find a way to empower the Arab women. There is a saying in Arabic that the women are the school of the children. The children grow under the supervision of the women because they are the ones who are responsible to educate and feed them. So if the women are stronger, the next generation will be stronger. And if we build trust between Arab and Jewish communities, we can build together what neither community can build separately.

How has your work evolved over the years?

We started by collaborating with the Arab farmers in the Galilee to buy their olive oil and sell it in the Israeli market. And surprisingly enough, it was well received by the Israeli society. This was the ‘90s. Then, in 2000 during the Second Intifada, it became difficult to market a product from the Arabic community in the Israeli market. This was when we turned to exporting.

After some years, we grew enough to build a factory in Kafr Kanna. We’re still there and since then have added a visitors center, where we host groups of visitors - both young and old - from all over the world. We’ve organized workshops and seminars for Arab and Jewish women. Student groups come and hear the women’s personal stories, and have asked them questions, like “How do you view Israeli society? What happened to your family in 1948? How does it affect your feelings towards the Jewish people?” Everything is open.

In 2003, we joined the World Fair Trade Organization, which is a huge network of Fair Trade organizations from all over the world. We started to export, and were well received by our global Fair Trade partners. Sindyanna grew mainly through connections with Fair Trade organizations, and through many friends around the world that believed in our mission.

I want to jump to 2019, because that year, we were invited by the Park Slope Food Co-op to present Sindyanna’s olive oil in their Brooklyn store. Their buyer invited us and said that his community would be interested to meet the women behind the olive oil. At that time, the co-op was proud of our partnership, and they were proud that they held olive oil from Israel that represented a collaboration between Arab and Jewish women.

How did October 7th affect business?

Every year, the harvest begins around the middle of October. Everything in the process had already been arranged that year, and we built positive relationships with agricultural cooperatives in the West Bank.

After October 7, I was terrified. I kept wondering: What will happen? How will we get the olive oil? What would our Palestinian partners say? Would they continue with our collaboration? Or, now that Israel is attacking Gaza, would they not want any connection with the Israelis?

But what happened was the opposite. And this is something that the boycott movement doesn’t want people to know: For the Palestinians in the West Bank, there is no option for boycott. They don’t boycott Israel. They are happy when they have good connections with good people in Israel. For them, it is like oxygen of hope. They’re living under occupation. The workers cannot come to Israel to work, so they haven’t had access to the work market for almost three years. And settlers attack their houses and their fields. And when they have the chance to make good connections with Israel, they are happy about it. They will not give up those connections easily.

So, when I called the farmers, they said, “Don’t worry. You will receive your olive oil in time. We are happy with our collaboration. We will stick to it for as long as possible.”

Then, we faced a new challenge. Our annual olive harvest was in jeopardy. Many of our volunteers had been called up for reserve duty, and Palestinian workers, who arrive every year during the harvest to pick the olives, couldn’t reach the grove.

We reached out to a women’s organization called Building Alternatives (Bonot Alternativa) and asked if they could help. Just two weeks after the war began, more than 300 women came to our olive grove to harvest olives alongside Arab and Jewish women. It was powerful. Even in the darkest moments, people are willing to come together and build something better.

Wow. And where do the profits go?

This collaboration is not just a commercial collaboration. We are Fair Trade. For every kilo of olive oil we buy from the Palestinian farmers, we donate a Fair Trade premium for the cooperative to create social projects in the village every year.

For example, last year they used our donation to build a solar panel on the olive oil mill in the village, to renovate the play yards in two primary schools, and to buy new equipment for the members of the cooperative.

We not only promote relations between Palestinians and Israelis, but also empower the Palestinians, and help develop Palestinian society, both in the occupied territories and in Israel.

Let’s get into the Park Slope Food Co-op boycott.

What can I say about such a one-sided and wrong decision?

What was your first reaction when you learned that your product was going to be boycotted?

First of all, it was not very clear, because the olive oil is not sold by Sindyanna to the co-op. It is sold by our partner, a Fair Trade cooperative, and they import our olive oil and sell it with a private label. On the bottle, the label says “A project of Arab and Jewish women in Israel.” This doesn’t matter to them; complexity is a thing they cannot digest.

Since October 2023, we have been suffering from a kind of boycott, but it is an undeclared boycott. Nobody has said they cannot order our olive oil because we are Israeli. Some big customers stopped buying our products, but they didn’t say why. They just said they cannot sell it. It is too expensive, too small, too big. Many excuses. Nobody said it is because we are Israeli. The first time someone said, “No, we won’t sell your olive oil because you are Israeli” was the Park Slope Food Co-op boycott. This is why we decided to not stay silent anymore. Because you cannot keep silent when someone is trying to eliminate you.

If there was one thing that you could say to the people in favor of BDS, particularly at the co-op, what would it be?

I don’t argue with BDS. I think it is useless. If you don’t want me, that is your problem. Because what I’m doing helps the Palestinians much more than what any boycott can do.

Because here you are, on the ground, actually making the connections, and promoting peace through dialogue, collaboration, and education.

If I were an American, or Brit, or German, etc. and I looked at Israel, I would say, “Israel has a very bad government.” By the way, it is not the only country in the world that has bad government, and not even the worst government. But nevertheless, this is our problem. It is very right-wing, very extremist. But if I were a person who sits outside Israel, I would see that in Israel there are more or less two camps: one is extremist, even fascist. And the other one is calling for equality and a just society, for collaboration with the Arab population. There is a big camp that calls for democracy.

If I were an unbiased person, I would support this democratic camp. I would support those people. I would say, “Let’s give them the strength to change the situation in their country.” If you have a democratic system, everyone - Palestinians, Israelis, Jews, Arabs, Christians, Muslims - can benefit from it.

But people who support BDS do the opposite. They say, “Israel is bad, and everyone in Israel is bad. Until the last Israeli becomes anti-Zionist, we don’t want to recognize Israel.” I believe this is an unbalanced approach that does not help advance peace or justice. There is no instant peace. It is a process. You have to build it step by step.

Do you have a story that you would like to share about one of the women that inspires you?

We have one woman from Kafr Kanna, the village where our factory is located. When she came to Sindyanna, she was a housewife. She came because she heard we were opening a weaving center, where we teach women how to weave baskets from all kinds of natural material. She came and was a devoted student. She learned the skill of basket weaving very well, and then became a teacher leading basket weaving shops in our visitor center. She’s invited by local municipalities to organize basket weaving for other communities. Before she joined us, she didn’t speak Hebrew. Now she speaks Hebrew. She didn’t know how to use a computer. Now she can work on the computer. She’s a living example of the term “empowering women.” In the last 30 years, we’ve met thousands of women. Every one of them has a special story. Every one of them benefited from interacting with Sindyanna.

What gives you hope?

You. Solidarity. What can be better than to be able to talk about our message, our vision, and to have people listening? And not only you, but also the 10,000 people who pressed ‘like’ on our last post. And also the democratic forces inside Israel. We see new parties that are absorbing the activists of the democratic movement and gaining political power. Hopefully we will get many seats in the next election. This gives me a lot of optimism. I didn’t have this. If you asked me one month ago, I don’t know if I would have been so optimistic. But now I see that more than 100,000 new people registered as members in this new Democratic party. They’re going to turn Israel into something better. Come visit us, and you’ll get some optimism too.

Any Shabbat plans?

On Friday evening, I plan to visit my 97-year-old mother, who lives on a kibbutz near Lake Tiberias, where my three siblings and I were born. I’ll spend Shabbat with her, catching her up on the latest news, listening to her stories, and enjoying her famous homemade salty cheese cookies.

My mother, who was born in Tel Aviv and has always considered herself a committed Zionist, says to me almost every day: “We made a mistake in 1967 when we did not withdraw from the occupied territories.”

You can buy Sindyanna’s products on their website.

Shabbat Shalom. Dreaming of those salty cheese cookies,

💧 If you like coexistence, check out this Drop:

💧 If you like Israeli politics, check out this Drop:

I was delighted to find a recording of the Moomin theme song in Hebrew. From that translation, I learned the word for wonderful/marvelous, which is mufla (מופלא). How marvelous!

Weird transition: This week was Tisha B’Av, the saddest day on the Jewish calendar.

For those who have been here a while, you know how fickle my relationship with this holiday has been.

I’ve written about Tisha B’Av from multiple angles, from arguing we should be celebrating life instead of mourning our past (which I feel differently about today), to writing about how October 7th changed my view of TBA (which inspired someone to start observing it!).

And this year, I had a completely different idea for TBA content, until I had an interaction that’s been sitting with me. It was one of those moments I’ve written about that could have been educational had I spoken up.

I was in a Jewish setting that was discussing Tisha B’Av and sinat chinam, which is a big theme of the holiday.

The rabbis who developed the Babylonian Talmud in the 6th century CE suggested this moral explanation for the fall of the Second Temple:

"However, considering that the people during the Second Temple period were engaged in Torah study, observance of mitzvot, and acts of kindness, and that they did not perform the sinful acts that were performed in the First Temple, why was the Second Temple destroyed? It was destroyed due to the fact that there was wanton hatred during that period. This comes to teach you that the sin of wanton hatred is equivalent to the three severe transgressions: Idol worship, forbidden sexual relations and bloodshed.” -Yoma 9b

Referring to the idea that sinat chinam brought about the destruction of our spiritual home, someone in the group discussion said, “It’s so full of Jewish guilt. The rabbis always do this! They did this with the Holocaust and now you’re telling me they did this for Tisha B’Av.”

Okay, I am the last person to defend the rabbis, but I immediately and silently took issue with this seemingly baseless dismissal of baseless hatred.

My mental wheels were turning as I laid it out in my head: Yes, a small number of Orthodox rabbis have made the ridiculous and disgusting claim that six million Jews died in the Holocaust because they weren’t observant. In their eyes, the Holocaust was divine punishment for being tempted by the Enlightenment, socialism, and Zionism.1

Pretty awful thing to say. But is that the same as the rabbis’ belief about sinat chinam? No.

One major difference between these two ideas is who was spreading them. The Holocaust-as-punishment claim was made by a few fringe rabbis, whereas the idea that sinat chinam (SC from here on out!) led to the destruction of the Temple became a part of the foundational texts of rabbinic Judaism.

But there’s an even more important difference: historical context. The idea of SC didn’t come out of thin air.

By the 1st century CE, Judea was deeply divided among several factions steeped in baseless hatred. Some of the major groups included:

• Pharisees – prioritized tradition, emphasizing Torah study and Oral Law. Comes from the Hebrew word for “separatists,” since they separated themselves from those who didn’t strictly observe.

• Sadducees – the priests who controlled the Temple and rejected the Oral Law. They were often rich and befriended the Romans.

• Essenes – mystics (possibly connected to the Dead Sea Scrolls) who believed the Temple leadership was corrupt.

• Zealots – nationalists committed to armed resistance against Rome who broke away from the Pharisees because they wanted to fight the Romans at all costs, while the Pharisees hesitated.

• Sicarii – an extremist group against any form of government, known for assassinating Romans and fellow Jews they considered collaborators, often with small daggers (their name means “dagger-men”).2

Clearly, there was a lot of disagreement, extremism, and violence at this point in Jewish history.

But it wasn’t only the rabbis who noticed this. Historians saw it too.

Josephus, the famous Jewish historian from this time period, documented the infighting, and how the different factions burned each other’s food supplies.3

Historians also blame the Hasmonean Civil War circa 67 BCE for the demise of Jewish sovereignty in the Land of Israel. This involved two royal brothers - Jonathan Hyrcanus and Aristobulus - fighting over who would rule Judaea after their mother died.

Things got ugly and the brothers just haaad to bring the Roman general, Pompey the Great, into it to see which brother he’d side with. Instead, Pompey laid siege to Jerusalem, bringing the last sovereign Jewish kingdom under Roman rule.4

Returning to the rabbis, they were saying more than, “We’re doing hateful things to our fellow Jews.” They were pointing out that a fractured society is a danger to itself, making it more vulnerable. And sure, the Jews of Jerusalem had real disagreements that were not always baseless. But the rabbis argued that their disagreement became destructive hatred.

They even used the story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza to show how petty hatred can have catastrophic consequences.

The real lesson here is to keep your Partifuls private and double check your guest list!

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Hatred, division, polarization… we’ve seen this theme play out in recent history. Israel was still politically divided in 2023 because of the previous year’s judicial reform. Military analysts and political commentators believe Hamas took advantage of a fractured Israeli society, leading to the brutal attack on October 7th.

But Hamas is not the Roman Empire. And Jews, after 2,000 years of exile, have regained sovereignty in their ancestral land. But maybe the rabbis were onto something about baseless hatred being a cause of societal collapse and suffering.

And again - it’s not just the rabbis! The more I observe Tisha B’Av (this is my fourth year) and attend classes, the more I realize that part of our tradition is to look inward on this day. Not cast full blame on the enemies that persecuted us and drove us to exile throughout history, but to also ask ourselves what part we played in it this and how we can do better. It’s the lead-up to the High Holidays.

Rachel Goldberg-Polin said it best on the recent Tisha B’Av episode of “Call Me Back with Dan Senor”:

So these were the thoughts bouncing around in my head during the group discussion after someone dismissed the rabbis. I was too busy recounting Jewish history with myself when the window for an educational moment passed.

Here’s said educational moment. And, not to sound like a hippie, but the only way forward is through ahavat chinam, baseless or unconditional love. The decision to choose love, generosity, and compassion for your fellow Jews, even when it’s hard. Or, at least, don't let your hatred be baseless. Make sure your hatred always has a reason! ;)

Thankfully, six days after the saddest day of the year comes Tu B’Av, the day of love. It gives us a chance to practice loving without a reason.

Shabbat Shalom! May your hatred have a base,

💦 If you like Jewish growth, check out these Drops:

Last week’s Drop explored the Jewish themes of the hit romantic TV and book series, Outlander, a very non-Jewish franchise. We talked rebellion, preserving identity, and hunky Scottish men.

This week’s exploration has more of a direct Jewish connection, because we’re discussing the Jewish characters in Outlander! And not just the Jewish characters, but how they’re portrayed.

Even if you don’t care about Outlander, we’ll discuss very real 18th-century Jewish history. Plus, it’s interesting to see how Jewish characters are portrayed in literature, like Fagin in Oliver Twist, or Shylock in The Merchant of Venice.

The good news is that Outlander’s Jewish personalities are depicted as less villainous and more complex. And since the author, Diana Gabaldon, uses accurate research to recreate 18th-century Scotland, she considers not just their traits, but also the historical context in which these characters are perceived.

For a refresher on the basic plot of the show, read last week’s Drop!

This is personally one of my favorite Drops! So get comfy, pour yourself a dram of Scotch, and say sláinte! 🥃

Outlander’s Jewish characters

For those of you who watched the show, you’re probably thinking, “I don’t remember any Jewish characters.”

You’re right! There are five minor Jewish characters in the books only, four of them alive.

A Rothschild realization

Let’s start with Book 3. The year is 1766. Without giving too much away, Claire and Jamie obtain a mysterious chest of ancient coins, and are trying to figure out where it came from.

To find answers, they seek out a young coin dealer from Frankfort (the 18th-century spelling) who is an expert in ancient coins. The young man introduces himself as Mayer, and is described as such, in Claire’s voice:

“Since virtually no one in Le Havre other than a few seamen wore a beard, it hardly needed the small shiny black skullcap on the newcomer’s head to tell me he was a Jew.”

Mayer is also described as appearing dusty and reserved, with an intensely curious expression. While Jamie compares the coins he has seen to the coins in Mayer’s collection, the Jewish merchant takes out his ledger of dealings, which are written in a “Hebraic writing, inked small and precise.”

After their dealings, Claire asks the man if Mayer is really his only name. He explains that the Jews of Frankfort are not allowed to use family names1. For the sake of convenience, their neighbors call their family after an old red shield that was painted on their house years ago.

Jamie then refers to him as “Mayer Red-Shield.” That’s when Claire realizes who Mayer is (remember, she’s a time traveler from the 1940s) - Mayer Amschel Rothschild - and the banking legacy his family will one day represent2. You can read it for yourself:

The real Mayer Rothschild, founder of the prominent Jewish banking family, established his business in 17693.

Author Diana Gabaldon uses incredibly accurate research to get every detail right in her 1,000+ page books. She’s even written books about her writing and research process, explained in fat books called The Outlandish Companions, of which there are two!

Throughout the series, there are a few famous historical figures Claire meets on her adventures. Meeting them, like Mayer Amschel Rothschild, is a literary delight for us modern readers.

Lawrence Stern, the helpful naturalist

Not long after meeting Mayer, a lot of exciting things happen that involve a ship and Claire and Jamie getting separated. Without major spoilers, Claire ends up on the island of Hispaniola (modern-day Haiti)4.

There, she meets a Jewish German naturalist named Lawrence Stern, whose appearance is described as weathered and burly, with “black hair that curled back from his brow, thick and ungrizzled.”

Lawrence offers Claire water, and brings her to his friend’s house (who happens to be a priest) to take shelter. There, the priest’s mother-in-law refers to Lawrence as a “Christ-killer.”

But the Jewish representation here proves to be positive. Over sangria, Lawrence tells Claire about the fauna and topography of the land, which foreshadows the book’s climax. He continues to help Claire, and even says “Oy!” at one point.

Those who have seen the show will recognize this as the Father Fogden scene. Only… there’s no Jewish character in this scene at all. Just a disgraced priest, a disgruntled mother-in-law, and a coconut that doesn’t talk back.

I don’t think the TV adaptation omitted Mayer and Lawrence because they’re Jewish. The books are simply too detailed to include all the minor characters on screen. Having said that, it would have been meaningful to see Lawrence included, to depict a learned Jewish man helping Claire, while also highlighting the antisemitism he faces.

The corpse with the circumcision

Here’s where things get mysterious. And educational!

In Book 9, Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone, Claire and Jamie become involved in the investigation of an unknown dead man. When a local constable asks Jamie if he thinks the man was a Jew, Jamie says:

“How would I ken that? And why would ye think so? Oh—did ye look at his prick?”

Horrified, the constable asks why he would do such a thing. Jamie replies, “D’ye not ken Jews are circumcised, then?” as though the constable should know (Jamie’s character is not only known for his good looks, but is also educated and worldly). Jamie then explains the practice.

The constable replies, “Jesus Christ! What the devil do they do that for?” Jamie says with a shrug, “God told them to.”

It turns out the constable thinks the dead man was Jewish because his body was found with a paper inscribed in Hebrew.

But it was an interesting choice on Diana’s part to include this minor detail and educational moment.

This led me to search the non-Jewish perception of circumcisions in 18th-century. While most non-Jews knew of circumcision thanks to the Bible, they didn’t have much knowledge of the actual procedure, since the ritual was performed by Jews in insular communities.

There were also widespread misconceptions about the practice and of the sexuality of Jewish men in general due to antisemitism and societal fear of venereal disease.

In 1753 London, the Jewish Naturalization Act, known as the Jew Bill, passed to grant citizenship to foreign-born Jews. But many opposed the act due to a widespread fear of “universal circumcision.”

In classic antisemitic fashion, it was believed that Jewish men were both sexually deviant and impotent, and that their circumcisions protected them from venereal disease while also causing venereal disease.5

This false belief was sometimes depicted in satire that American colonists read, so the Penis Panic (I just came up with that) spread to the colonies. Oy!

Circumcision would not become familiar to Americans as a medical procedure until 1870, when Dr. Lewis Sayre, a prominent New York orthopedist, popularized it.6

All this is to say: some 18th-century Christians were weirded out by brit milah, and it was accurate to portray the constable as such.

I get it. I imagine it’s how I feel when I think about the opposite: uncut gems, so to speak.

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Rebekah bat-Leah Hauberger, bandit informant

There are a ton of prequel novellas (the Outlander universe is huge and thankfully never ending).

In one titled Virgins, a story of young Jamie as a soldier in France, he meets Rebekah bat-Leah Hauberger, a young Jewish woman who’s involved with Jewish bandits, informing them on which wagons to rob.

Rebekah falls in love with a French nobleman who promises to convert to Judaism. However, her grandfather, a physician named Dr. Hasdi, doubts the man’s promise to convert, since he would lose his title and property if he did so. Dr. Hasdi hires Jamie to protect his granddaughter and a valuable Torah scroll in her care.

Yes, you read that right: our highland warrior Jamie who can recognize Hebrew and knows about circumcision ALSO protects a Torah scroll. Is he a secret Jew like AI Jamie says he is?!

Incoming spoiler: Later, it’s revealed that Rebekah’s only involved with the bandits so that she could make up for the wealth that her lover would lose when he converts to Judaism.

Jamie convinces her to return the Torah to her grandfather, forcing her to confront her love for the goy while confronting her faith.

Bet you didn’t see THAT one coming!

Historical context: I couldn’t find much on 18th-century Jewish crime in France. However, I found a translated excerpt from a Jewish journal7, saying that French Jewish crime was low compared to non-Jewish crime, and involved smuggling and robbery. This doesn’t surprise me since Jewish piracy was a thing in the 17th century. The crime in France was likely due to being marginalized and the police being suspicious of Jews.

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Diana Gabaldon’s Jewish connection

Why would the author depict these Jewish characters, anyway? What’s the point?

A Roman Catholic herself, Diana has shared on social media many times (always acknowledging the Jewish holidays!) that she believes her father’s ancestor was likely a Sephardic Jew who arrived to the New World through Mexico City.

Her curiosity and passion for research and religion leads her to weave these fascinating plotlines and minor characters into the Outlander universe, for which we Jewish fans are grateful!

Shabbat Shalom! Stay curious,

💦 If you like circumcision, check out these Drops:

Think of your favorite franchise, or whatever you’re a fan of that you’ve been following for a long time.

Now, imagine it ending.

The final episode of The Office. Derek Jeter’s last game. The Grateful Dead’s last show with Jerry Garcia. Your last meal at your favorite restaurant before it closes for good.

That dreadful, sorrowful feeling in your chest is what I felt in the spring, when my favorite series, Outlander, ended.

Outlander is a romance TV series based on a book series from the 90s by Diana Gabaldon. It’s not Jewish at all. Or is it?

This is what we do here on the Drop: we investigate, we learn, and we convince you to watch Outlander. Pour yourself a dram of Scotch and say sláinte!

The plot of Outlander follows Claire Randall, a British former World War II nurse who, while on her honeymoon in 1945, touches ancient standing stones and accidentally travels to 1743 Scotland! Though she tries to return to her previous life (and husband), she can’t help but fall in love with a Highland warrior named Jamie Fraser.

Before you roll your eyes, I like to tell people that Outlander (named after Claire’s status as an outsider in the Scottish Highlands) is so much more than romance (and “soft-core p@rn” as people like to tell me). Sure, there’s spicy scenes, but it also has:

• adventure

• history (I learned so much more Scottish and American history from the show than I ever did in school!)

• philosophy

• religion

9 seasons (technically 8, but season 7 is split in two) and 10 books (9 out right now, the last is in the works) that take you all over the world. Dozens of characters you fall in love with. Many tears. Now that the show is over after 12 years, let’s explore what’s so Jewish about a very Catholic show.

FYI this piece ended up being so long, I split it into two. Be on the lookout for Part II next week!

Parallels to Jewish history

There are many similar themes in Outlander that we see in Judaism: exile and yearning for home, assimilation, the importance of family, and debates around morality, to name a few. But there’s one that stands out to me I’d like to focus on.

Fighting to preserve one’s identity & culture

If Claire were to time travel to, say, the 2nd century BCE instead of the 18th century CE (I’d totally watch that show!), she might have empathized with the Jews.

That’s because she would see a people rise up against a powerful empire to preserve their customs, identity, and traditions on their ancestral land.

I’m referring to the Seleucid Empire’s rule over Judaea under King Antiochus IV, and the suppression of Jewish customs like circumcision, Shabbat, and Torah study, and desecrating the Temple with pagan worship.

These examples are known today as “Chanukah antisemitism” because the Seleucids weren’t trying to kill the Jews (until the Jews rose up and fought back, of course); they were trying to “kill Judaism” by banning Jewish customs. And it’s when the story of Chanukah takes place!

In Outlander, Claire travels to 1743, at a time when some Highland Scots did not recognize the authority of the British government and remained loyal to the House of Stuart, despite being a part of Great Britain.

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This was a conflict dating back to 1688, when King James II (of the House of Stuart), the last Catholic monarch to reign over England, Scotland, and Ireland, was overthrown by Protestant William III & Mary II.

There had been a few Jacobite uprisings1, as King James’s followers were called, and this tension culminated in the famous Battle of Culloden against the British in 1746, depicted in Season 2.

After the Jacobite defeat (not a spoiler, this is history), the British government imposed restrictions on Highland culture, like banning weapons and Highland dress2 (goodbye, kilts), and weakening their clan system that they’ve had for centuries.

Though not a perfect analogy (the biggest difference was that the Maccabees fought for religious autonomy from the get-go, while the Jacobites didn’t lose many of their cultural and religious freedoms until after they lost the Battle of Culloden3), the ‘Bees and the ‘Bites both fought fiercely to preserve what they believed was worth fighting for.

Internal disagreements

Another noteworthy comparison is that not everyone in either group wanted to revolt. Some Jews, mostly upper class, embraced Hellenistic culture, like speaking Greek, hanging out nude at the bath houses and the gymnasium, and surgically reversing their circumcisions4.

Not all Scottish Highlanders were Jacobites5. In fact, most weren’t. In Season 1, we see tension between Jamie’s uncles, Colum and Dougal MacKenzie. Dougal is passionate about restoring the Stuart throne through military victory, while Colum, laird of the MacKenzie clan, understands the dangers of rebellion and prefers diplomacy.

This plot line is reminiscent of the many disagreements within the Jewish community that have led to division and fracturing. Reminds me of an upcoming holiday.

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Preserving identity in the diaspora

This theme of preserving identity carries into the diaspora experience of both peoples as well. In Season 4 of Outlander (incoming spoiler!), Claire and Jamie rebuild their life in America, bringing Scottish settlers with them (an actual example of settler colonialism, but you don’t see anyone calling that out).

In the show, the Scottish community abroad maintains their traditions like lighting the fiery cross6 before a battle, and speaking Scottish Gaelic (pronounced gal-ic, not gay-lic). They also frequent trips back to their ancestral homeland.

Meanwhile, the Jewish diaspora maintains a connection to its roots through language, ritual, and memory. By speaking the Hebrew language, reciting prayers that long for Zion (where Jews come from), and praying in a way that resembles the ancient rituals of the Temple, Jewish communities all over the world have maintained a connection to Israel by preserving these traditions.

Sure, Outlander has love, gorgeous gowns, and lots of drama, but maybe this franchise has resonated with me so deeply for another reason: that its themes of memory, resilience, and preserving identity across generations remind me of themes Jews have known for thousands of years.

Next week, we get even more Jewish, as we discuss the Jewish characters of Outlander, and compare them to real 18th-century Jews!

Shabbat Shalom!

Further Reading: When Scotland Was Jewish

This book argues that much of Scotland's history and culture from 1100 CE forward is Jewish. The authors provide research and evidence using census records, archaeology, castle carvings, cemetery inscriptions, and more to prove that many of Scotland’s national heroes, rulers, nobles, traders, merchants, bishops, and more were of Jewish descent, their ancestors originating in France and Spain.

💦 If you like Outlander or AI, check out this Drop:

📅 Shabbat Drop-In

Thank you to everyone who has been attending Picking Up Stones, a one-woman play about multiple perspectives on the Israel-Palestine conflict. At the Sunday post-show hang, we discussed antizionism, the delusion of hope, Scott Weiner, and how good those margaritas were.

The play is still running tonight and tomorrow, with talkbacks to debrief and discuss. Get your tickets here!

Visiting North America’s First Congregation

Last month, my colleagues and I toured Manhattan’s Congregation Shearith Israel, also known as the Spanish & Portuguese Synagogue!

This Upper West Side Orthodox shul is is the oldest continuous Jewish congregation in the U.S., as opposed to Touro Synagogue in Newport, Rhode Island, whose building is the oldest standing synagogue in the country. I like to clear up that confusion!

Shearith Israel was founded in 1654 by 23 Sephardic Jews who arrived in New Amsterdam from Brazil. For more than 170 years, it was the only Jewish congregation in New York City. It has stunning architecture and preserves Sephardic traditions, like specific Torah reading order and pronunciations.

👉 Read about its famous congregants, like Supreme Court Justice Benjamin Cardozo and poet Emma Lazarus. Just be sure to come back here for a d’var Torah!

Parashat Pinchas: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Land

We're nearing the end of the Israelites' 40 years in the wilderness. Moses learns he can’t enter the Promised Land. Instead of challenging G-d, he works with G-d to appoint a successor.

There’s lots of wisdom in this Torah portion, but I want to focus on something specific that happens with Zelophehad's daughters.

Zelophehad (winner of the best biblical baby name award) was an Israelite from the tribe of Manasseh who died during the Israelites' journey.

He had five daughters: Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah, which are other great names - I would call Milcah “Milky”! Zelo bore no sons.

When their father dies, the daughters challenge the existing inheritance law, which would deny them their father’s allotted land in Israel simply because they’re not men. Instead, the land would pass to his sons, and if there’s no sons, to another male relative, like his brother or nephew. Only… Zelo didn’t have another close male relative, so his land would effectively disappear from their lineage.

"Let not our father's name be lost to his clan because he had no son! Give us a holding among our father's kinsmen." -Numbers 27:4

G-d hears their plea, and the law changes.

Pretty extraordinary when you think about it: five women point out an injustice, Moses brings their case before G-d, who agrees to amend the law around land inheritance. Yes, I’ll repeat that for the people who say Judaism oppresses women, or that Judaism is just about obeying G-d blindly.

Before the Israelites even arrive to their destination, the people challenge leadership, and end up shaping the society that they want. Sure, after one’s father dies, sons still get first dibs to the land, but the daughters made progress in a patriarchal society.

Much like Americans right after the Declaration of Independence was signed, the Jewish people didn't arrive in the Promised Land and immediately have a perfect society. They had to build it together, deciding what kind of nation they wanted to become, what values would shape it, and who would be impacted by imperfect laws. In order to do this, they needed to call out injustice wherever they saw it.

This is what I’m reflecting on this Independence Day, among other things: the transition from escaping oppression to building a society. What comes next after the parting of the Red Sea and the wandering, or after the signing of the Declaration of Independence. The importance of fighting for freedom and democratic values. How to continue the work long after the founding leaders are gone.

The work is never done. And it all starts with people saying, “Hey, this isn’t fair.”

This week, Zelophehad’s daughters teach us that.

Good Shabbos and enjoy your fireworks and BBQ,

💦 If you like badass Jewish women and/or history, check out these Drops:

Hi friends,

I’ve been feeling nostalgic lately.

As I said in a recent Drop, one year ago I was in Tel Aviv during the 12-Day War.

Actually, my journey looked more like:
Tel Aviv ➡️ an army base in the Negev ➡️ Tel Aviv (when the war started) ➡️ Ariel ➡️ back to Tel Aviv ➡️ a kibbutz in the Negev ➡️ Tel Aviv ➡️ Athens ➡️ Home!

Why do I feel nostalgic for a time when I was running to bomb shelters and schlepping all over the country?

Because I miss what it represents.

I miss volunteering on an IDF base just before the war started. I miss the friends I made there, and sipping cocktails on the beach with them waiting for Iran to retaliate.

I miss practicing Hebrew in an environment where everyone speaks it.

While I don’t miss getting up 3-4 times in the middle of the night to go to bomb shelters, I miss practicing resilience. And being surrounded by people who just get it. The “it” being the fight Israel’s up against and what’s at stake if it loses.

One year later, I miss my friends I met there (though I’m working on a friend’s play about 10/7 that starts in NYC TONIGHT! Get tickets here.)

I yearn to be back. I got accepted to a trip for content creators, but it fell through.

When friends tell me they’re going there for the summer, my soul cracks with envy.

All of this is to say I am missing Israel. Until I can go again, here are some things I've been doing to stay connected, and to bring a little bit of Israel into my everyday life.

Learning About Israeli Politics

The next Israeli election is October 27th (the same day the next A Court of Thorns and Roses book comes out… big day!).

My colleague held a lunch and learn to teach Israeli politics through campaign videos.

So you could imagine how petty and entertaining they were, or just downright odd, like this 2019 video from the New Right featuring Ayelet Shaked responding to criticism of her policies being fascist in a perfume ad. Tongue-in-cheek or anti-feminist? You decide.

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Anything but Bibi

So far, for this upcoming election, there’s a couple of videos out. One is Likud’s, Netanyahu’s party.

It’s a bizarre video of a family sitting around their Shabbat table, and the son “comes out” as a Bibi supporter, or a Bibist. Chaos ensues.

The father: “How is that possible? You work in hi-tech!”

The mother nosedives into her cake. You should just see the meshugas for yourself:

The point of the video is to deflect and play victim, to send a message to the real Bibists: “We know you face discrimination for your political beliefs. We see you. We hear you.” (I’m not supporting him in any way by sharing this video, by the way.)

Likud seems confident they’ll win if this is what their election video focuses on. Not on issues or policies, but on identity politics.

Yashar 2026

The other 2026 election video came as a stark response to Likud’s, and it’s by the relatively new Yashar party, led by former IDF Chief of Staff Gadi Eisenkot.

This video also features a family sitting around the Shabbat table, having the exact same conversation. The only difference? You can’t see the actors; you can only hear their voices as they speak in a kitchen riddled with bullet holes and destroyed property.

The end text reads: Search on Google. October 7th.

The underlying message: Bibi is to blame for security failure on October 7th.

It’s short and powerful. They have my vote! Not that it counts for anything.

Learning about Yaacov Agam

This week, I read the news that a renowned Israeli artist died.

Yaacov Agam was born in Rishon Lezion in 1928 and became one of the founders of the kinetic art movement, which experiments with movement and light.

I learned he created the colorful, modern fountain sculpture in Dizengoff Square!

In 2026, he received the Israel Prize for Visual Arts. Read more about his life here.

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Watching Israeli Film

Another way I’m getting my Israel culture fix is by watching Israeli movies!

I saw two films at the Israel Film Center Festival at the JCC. I liked one much more than other so I’ll just talk about that.

It was called The Big League, starring Israel Attias, who plays Meir in my favorite Israeli show, Shababnikim!

This movie is like the Israeli Ted Lasso, and by that I mean it features a guy who is forced to coach a ragtag soccer team full of misfit teens.

It’s cute, it’s laugh-out-loud funny, and its cast and crew are made up of both Israelis and Palestinians. Despite this, the film was boycotted from showing in European film festivals.

If a charming soccer movie can’t bring about peace, what will?

Learning Hebrew through Israeli videos

I’ve been watching videos on the YouTube channel, Piece of Hebrew, by a cute Israeli couple named Doron & Elsa!

They make videos on everything from Elsa’s morning routine and exploring the Golan, to an Israeli celebrity guessing game between the two of them.

Living the Jewish Calendar

I attended my first Rosh Chodesh circle in YEARS to welcome Tammuz with some girlfriends.

There was fresh pasta salad, homemade chocolate challah, and a guided meditation on our personal sieges. Which brings me to a Shabbat prompt for YOU:

✍️ Shabbat Prompt

What are you protecting right now?

In addition, I’ve been eating at a lot of Israeli restaurants (just dined at Malka for the first time, wow that schnitzel). I’ve also been hearing about friends’ recent trips there. I’ll be back someday.

Fund My Next Trip to Israel

Shabbat Shalom. Stay passionate,

💦 If you like feeling connected, check out these Drops:

If you’re new here, or haven’t read my Great Jewish Journey (which I just updated for the first time in four years), you might not know that I’m a Jewish professional. Been in the game for eight years and what a whirlwind it’s been, especially the last three.

There’s a lot to discuss about working in the Jewish nonprofit sector: the culture that greatly varies by organization, salary, philanthropic allocation, the saturation of nonprofits and the overlap in their work, learning and travel opportunities, um… all the holidays we get off?!

But this piece isn’t about working. It’s about not working.

A few weeks ago, I attended a day of camp for Jewish professionals run by Trybal Gatherings!

220 Jewish professionals representing 40 organizations learned and played together at Camp Ramah Nyack, and it was the embodiment of Jewish joy (who else is excited Substack now has colored text?!).

The goal was to provide a space for adults to laugh, play, and recharge after working tirelessly to make the world a more joyous, safe, and educated one for Jews.

… okay, and to see who can make the longest snake out of toilet paper in the shortest amount of time. 🧻🐍

Instead of meetings, we had electives. Instead of an office or a conference center, our backdrop was the lush rolling hills of the Hudson Valley.

The day served as a reminder that this field is so steeped in play and creativity. I don’t even need the current state of global antisemitism to tell me this is where I belong.

Here’s what I experienced!

Blessings in Nature

There were all sorts of electives to choose from: pickleball, Mahjong, yoga, Shrinky Drinks bracelet making (a 90s flashback!), Moroccan lemon preserves, Torah in the Tarot, and more.

My first elective was nature bathing led by Adamah, a Jewish environmental organization (to read about their retreat I went on, read this Drop!).

No, this session wasn’t sun bathing. It was a meditative stroll in nature while learning about different brachot, blessings, related to nature.

There are many brachot for wondrous sights you may come across in nature, like thunder, lightning, and a rainbow.

Fun fact: The blessing for seeing a rainbow refers to G-d keeping the covenant and keeping a promise, because it’s a throwback to Genesis 9:12-17, when a rainbow appears after the flood, and G-d promises to never again destroy the world with water.

One blessing I enjoyed learning about on this nature walk was the blessing you say upon seeing an unusual and beautiful creature, like an elephant, peacock, or an ostrich.

It sparked an interesting conversation on what makes a creature strange as well as beautiful. We came to the conclusion that beauty’s in the eye of the beholder.

It reminded me of the time I was hiking in Alaska and a porcupine crossed my path. I was dumbfounded. If only I had this blessing to recite!

👉 See a full list of Jewish nature blessings here.

Judaism: The Game We’re All Playing

Next, I attended a workshop on ice breakers.

Ah, the ever-polarizing ice breaker. Some love ‘em, some dread ‘em.

I love them when they’re creative and engaging. I think it’s a fun way to get to know people, especially at a Shabbat meal where not everyone knows each other.

Our group went around and answered the following ice breaker: “Go around, introduce yourself, and say the answer to your favorite ice breaker.”

Ex. “Hi, my name is Carol. Potato chips.” “I’m Josh. Purple dragon.”

I said, “Miranda. Last week when I was feeling bad about something.” My favorite ice breaker is: “When was the last time you cried and why?” I like to get personal.

What’s your favorite ice breaker? Let me know in the comments!

This discussion, led by Foundation for Jewish Camp, also touched on games in Jewish education, and games you can play with your team at work.

One of the participants made an astute observation, which was that Judaism is like a game: Everyone has the same set of rules, and how we choose to play within those rules is up to us.

Which prompted the question: What does it look like to win in Judaism?

No one really answered it (it was more rhetorical), but it got me thinking of all the different ways how winning in Judaism might look:

• Keeping up with the weekly Parsha

• Keeping up with the Jewish calendar

• Following the Ten Commandments (ahem, not stealing)

• Keeping Shabbat, even just lighting weekly candles

For me, it’s that I am constantly learning, growing, and having fun. After this day of adult camp, I think I nailed it.

The rest of the day involved Japanese tie-dyeing, color war, and deliciously fluffy cookies. Thank you so much to Trybal for a day of play. After Shabbos, it’s back to work.

Shabbat Shalom and Happy Juneteenth,

💦 Like Jewish camp? Check out this Drop:

📅 Shabbat Drop-In

My friend, Sandra Laub, is bringing her powerful one-woman play, Picking Up Stones: An American Jew Wakes Up to a Nightmare, to NYC late June/early July. Come see it with us at the American Theatre for Actors as part of the Midtown International Theatre Festival.

After the performance, we’ll gather to discuss the play’s themes of grief, identity, and the fragile possibility of peace after October 7th. It’s running multiple dates, but we’re seeing it together on 6/28! Get your tickets here!

I received copies of these books from the publisher (thank you, Soncata Press!) in exchange for an honest review. The thoughts below are entirely my own.

Dog, a portrayal of wartime trauma

In between romantasy and literary nonfiction, I’ve been reading more Jewish/Israeli books than ever! One recent read that has stuck with me is Dog by Yishay Ishi Ron.

I first saw Dog floating around on the Jewish literary scene last year when it came out. I assumed the story was about a soldier’s experience in the elite Oketz unit of the Israel Defense Forces, which made me excited because that’s the unit my brother served in.

When I finally started recently reading it, however, I was surprised to find it was inspired by the author’s true story of wartime trauma in a different unit.

The story centers on a former Golani brigade soldier known as “Geller” (named after magician Uri Geller, whose mental spoon-bending tricks he becomes obsessed with, and is used as a metaphor for hope and a sense of control) as he struggles with heroin addiction after his military service in an elite combat unit. To the diasporic ear, the term “elite combat unit” elicits awe, pride, and, dare I say, a bit of sexiness. But in this story, it carries the weight of pain, trauma, and the messiness and moral complexity of war.

This isn’t the Israel many American Jews know, and that’s why it’s such an important read. In between heroin highs and begging for change outside his local coffee shop on the streets of Tel Aviv, he mentally slips back into warn-torn Gaza, using such vivid language I had to pause and re-read lines at times.

Take this descriptive paragraph from one of his flashbacks, for example. Content warning: death, violence, war, grief.

“Yehoram’s brain began to leak out through the cracks like red shakshuka with specks of egg white, and he fell right on top of me and I picked him up and his eyes looked at mine and in spite of the darkness I could see what one can only see in the wide-open eyes of someone who has taken a bullet to the head—a great, black, endless astonishment. So I picked him up and the radio got tangled between my legs and the bullets started whistling and I carried Yehoram’s body like a bucket with a hole in it through which life was draining out. I carried him just like I’m carrying Dog now, and the whole time I thought about his mother and how she had no idea that her life was over, she was probably still sleeping, enjoying the last good night she’d ever have. In a few hours, the casualty notification officers would show up, and she’d scream and Yehoram’s father would say nothing and would never speak again, because all of his words were connected to his eldest son’s heartbeat, and Yehoram’s brothers and sisters would lament their brother who died in Gaza, but no one would really pay much attention to their pain.”

Kudos to translator Yardenne Greenspan.

Every sentence of Ron’s seems like it was crafted with intention, and has commentary on everything from addicts never being able to return to their former selves, to how the IDF shoots dogs in Gaza. Throughout the war, people shared posts of soldiers rescuing dogs, but you never read about soldiers shooting dogs. Until now.

The personal narrative feels so real, because it’s based on Ron’s own PTSD, which he battled for two decades after serving in Lebanon. You can feel the rawness of his own personal journey throughout his book.

There’s also a tender plot involving a stray dog and the kindness of a stranger, reminding the reader that even in the midst of suffering, one can find compassion and humanity, and everyone is deserving of it.

Dog received this year’s Jewish Book Council Book Club Award, and now I understand why. It doesn’t stray (pun intended) from tough subjects, one that is so prevalent in Israeli society today. There are more than 30,000 cases filed of Israeli soldiers suffering from PTSD.

The novel is short - 180 pages - and makes for meaningful reading over Shabbos.

The Girl Who Rode the White Lion, a Holocaust mystery

Yishay Ishi Ron’s second novel is coming out next Tuesday, and this story revolves around yet another animal!

The Girl Who Rode the White Lion follows Sarah Frank, a young Jewish girl in 1939 Germany as she escapes Nazi Germany with the help of a traveling circus.

Nearly twenty years later, the discovery of an SS officer’s ring inside the body of an elderly lion at NYC’s Central Park Zoo kicks off a transatlantic investigation that uncovers Sarah’s hidden past. The fast-paced novel blends mystery and action with themes of survival, loss, courage, and love.

In full transparency, I didn’t love the novel. There was something off to me about framing an exciting mystery against the backdrop of the Holocaust, like repackaging real suffering as shiny entertainment. I also felt that the writing and scene transitions were rushed. However, I made some startling discoveries of my own while reading it that made me appreciate it more.

First, in the latest issue of Hadassah Magazine, I was tickled to read about a white lion kept at a zoo in Be’ersheva. The article was written by Miriam Green, an olah (immigrant) who found solace in volunteering at Midbarium during the war with Iran.

She writes about zoo life untouched by geopolitics, the preparation of rats for carnivorous animals, and examples from the Torah that emphasize compassion for animals.

What jumped out at me in the piece, though, was the pair of white lion siblings at the zoo! They have a rare genetic condition called leucism, which is like albinism, where their bodies can’t produce pigmentation, but their eyes remain their natural color (whereas in albinism the eyes are usually red). They couldn’t survive in the wild at night due to their light color, so Midbarium rescued them.

In The Girl Who Rode the White Lion, this rare beautiful creature represents resilience and confronting your past.

Both Ron’s book and Miriam’s article made it seem like white lions are extremely rare, and I’m sure they are, but it’s like they’re en vogue or something!

The more captivating discovery: throughout the book, I kept thinking, “This story is ridiculous. There’s no way it’s true.”

While an SS officer’s ring didn’t actually end up in the stomach of a lion, imagine my surprise when I researched the story and found out that some Jews actually did flee Nazi Germany with the circus.

Adolf Althoff’s family owned a German circus dating back to the 17th century. He and his wife, Maria, hid another circus family full of Jews, created false papers for them, and helped them escape. Ron’s second book was inspired by this remarkable story.

In 1995, the Althoffs were recognized by Yad Vashem as Righteous Among the Nations.

“We circus people see no difference between races or religions,” said Althoff when he received the honor.

While the plot of The Girl Who Rode the White Lion may sound over the top, just know that real history took place under the big top. 🎪

Good Shabbos! Go read something,

💦 If you like Jewish books, check out these Drops:

Who was at the Israel Day Parade on Sunday? 🙋🏻‍♀️ One Israeli commented that it felt like Israel’s Independence Day. Because that’s what it was celebrating! No politics1, no agendas, no mayor2… just joy, pride, and strength!

Speaking of Israel, I can’t believe it’s been a year since I was “stuck” in Tel Aviv during the 12-Day War with Iran.

That trip had such a lasting impact on me. I mostly stopped eating shellfish and pork (a big deal for me!). I pray more. My Hebrew has vastly improved because I was inspired to keep studying. And I met the most amazing, passionate people.

One of them was Sandra Laub, who I met between sirens at the Maxim Hotel. Sandy is a playwright from Connecticut. Her one-woman play, Picking Up Stones: An American Jew Wakes Up to a Nightmare (produced by Jerry Fischer), is showing at the Midtown International Theatre Festival here in NYC at the end of this month and early July. This is my attempt at convincing you to see it!

The Premise

Just as the title depicts, Picking Up Stones features an American Jewish woman waking up on October 7th to find herself unable to make sense of the world she thought she understood.

Throughout the play, Sandra plays 21 characters, some real and some composites. They include her real Israeli cousins, Palestinian mothers, Golda Meir, a peace activist burned alive in her own home on Kibbutz Be’eri, and a college student called a ZioNazi by her progressive friends.

But most of all, she plays herself, wrestling with a complex reality on stage. The conversations of multiple truths thread together without being neatly resolved.

Its onstage debate-like style reminds me of Itamar Moses’s The Ally starring Josh Radnor, about a Jewish college professor who initially agrees to sign a student's manifesto addressing police brutality, until he sees language in the document criticizing Israel that unsettles him, forcing him to question his identity and faith. The professor has charged conversations with all sorts of diverse characters. During these conversations, he becomes more of a “receiver,” reflecting everyone else’s views and beliefs.

But in Picking Up Stones, the audience is the receiver, as viewers grapple with voices of the angry, the hurt, and the grieving, all skillfully played by Sandy. Even the stones play a role; sometimes they build and support, and other times they weigh heavy on a tombstone.

In just 80 minutes, the play covers a range of topics, like the assumption that all Palestinians want Israelis killed, the blockade of Gaza, the question of how the West can wish for Palestinian statehood when some Palestinians don’t even want it… unless all the Jews are gone, how Arab neighbors don’t want to take in Palestinian refugees, young Israeli men dying for a state, and how peace should not be such a radical idea.

“I wrote Picking Up Stones because October 7 shattered assumptions I had carried most of my life as an American Jew. I found myself struggling to wake up from a nightmare that seemed chaotic and tangled beyond any rational solution or knee-jerk position. I felt trapped in a web of grief, fear, love for Israel, concern for innocent Palestinians, and a growing sense that the conversations I needed to have weren't happening. I saw a lack of empathy on 'each' side.

Theater thrives on conflict, so I wrote dialogue for the humans involved in this, what seems like a watershed historical moment. Theater became a place where I could wrestle publicly with those questions. The play is my attempt to make sense of a moral and emotional earthquake, and to invite audiences into a deeper, more human conversation across division. My play isn't like listening to a podcast or reading a book or an article or op-ed. It's a real-time journey of grappling, of awakening - a personal, Jewish, moral and emotional reckoning that happens in public and that eschews easy or one-sided answers to the questions haunting me, and perhaps the audiences coming to see my play. The talkback after every performance offers that opportunity.” -Sandy

To Be a Better Zionist

Like any country, Israel is far from perfect. Its hawkish right-wing government is corrupt and needs reform. Settlers in the West Bank are terrorizing Palestinians. The exemption of Haredi men from military service remains a significant and contentious issue.

While I understand the discomfort of publicly naming these issues in non-Jewish spaces, too many of us are in denial about what is going on even in Jewish spaces because we think Israel can do no wrong. But naming these issues makes us better Zionists, better Jews, and better humans. And not only naming, but wrestling with. Like Jacob and the Angel, it’s just what Jews do.

Throughout the war, I supported Israel’s goals of rescuing hostages in Gaza and dismantling Hamas. A war was waged against her on October 7th, after all. But like any war, it came at a cost in civilian lives, and destroyed homes and livelihoods.

I also disagreed with some of Israel’s actions, like withholding aid to pressure Hamas, and shooting civilians trying to get food once it arrived.

And I know some of you are shouting behind your screen at me, “But Hamas was stealing aid!” and “It was proven there was no famine in Gaza!” or “Soldiers shot at people because a mob was forming and it was getting dangerous.”

Believe me, as an educated Zionist I get the instinct to doubt what you see in the media. To justify and provide facts and statistics. During those intense and difficult two and a half years, it was all I was doing.

But that's not the conversation this play is having.

Picking Up Stones leaves no room for whataboutism, statistics, or competing narratives. It carves space for us to sit and acknowledge pain, and to think about how we can learn to love our neighbor as ourselves, even in complicated times.

Loaded Lines

There are lines in the play I downright disagree with. At one point, an American high school teacher says: “I am wrestling with how to stay Jewish since Israeli policies have become so extremist, racist, fascist, corrupt.”

While I agree about the Israeli government statement, I disagree with the idea of doubting your Jewish identity as a reaction to Israel.

Does that line also strike a nerve? Do you agree with it? Do you find yourself somewhere in the middle, thinking, “I have no problem being Jewish, but it’s Zionism that I’m questioning”?

Even a single line like this can open up so much for a conversation, like discussing the different types of Zionism, Jewish values (like tikkun olam and prioritizing Jewish defense), and what people mean when they use these terms. Picking Up Stones favors nuance and dialogue rather than tearing down hostage posters or generalizing an entire people.

One of my favorite lines is during a conversation with Vivian Silver, the peace activist killed on October 7th, and Golda Meir, Israel’s first female prime minister who was criticized for her leadership during the Yom Kippur War.

Vivian says idolizing the state over the lives of our neighbors is a sin we can't atone for, that it's a burning bush that will consume us. Golda fires back: "By the way, when's the inquiry? I had an inquiry for my war."

Oof! Sassy Golda. As these two women speak across decades, history comes alive, making the present feel even heavier.

If you care about these conversations, please join us on one of the dates below. I’m also organizing a group discussion after the June 28th performance. Group ticket discounts are available, so bring your friends or your congregation!

Get tickets here

And if none of this makes you want to see the play, then maybe this will: There’s a line in it inspired by something I wrote in my 12-Day War Drop! Can you guess what it is?

Shabbat Shalom. Here’s to peace,

💦 If you want peace, check out these Drops:

Shabbat Drop-In

My friend, Sandra Laub, is bringing her powerful one-woman play, Picking Up Stones: An American Jew Wakes Up to a Nightmare, to NYC late June/early July. Come see it with us at the American Theatre for Actors as part of the Midtown International Theatre Festival.

After the performance, we’ll gather to discuss the play’s themes of grief, identity, and the fragile possibility of peace after October 7th. It’s running multiple dates, but we’re seeing it together on 6/28! Get your tickets here! And let me know if you’re coming!

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Shavuot is my favorite Jewish holiday. I’ll shout it to the mountaintops if I have to. ;)

I love learning something I otherwise wouldn’t have learned anywhere else while enjoying a dairy meal. There’s something magical about the all-night chaos: the several sessions happening every hour, the rush of racing to a room before the class fills up, and hanging out in the lobby over coffee and a catch-up with a Jew you haven’t seen in a while.

But this year, I did something a little different. Our friends Adina and Avi organized a Shavuot getaway at a camp in West Milford, New Jersey. 60 of us - and some children - relived our camp days, along with late-night learning and cheesecake.

Our tikkun leil (a “night of spiritual repair,” or a night of learning) was divided into 10-minute segments. Here are some highlights:

• A rowdy 1:00am rendition of “Vos Vet Zayn Az Meshiakh Vet Kumen,” a cumulative Yiddish song of questions and answers about the Great Feast in Heaven after the coming of the Messiah. Spoiler alert: it involves Moses teaching, David playing music, and Miriam dancing. Sounds like the cool kids’ table at lunchtime! I want in.

• A closer look at the most famous line in the Book of Ruth, which we read each year on this holiday: “Where you go, I will go; and where you stay, I will stay; your people shall be my people, and your God my God.” Moabite Ruth says this to her Jewish mother-in-law, Naomi, after Naomi urges her to return to her own land and start anew now that her husband is dead. But Ruth remains steadfast to the Jewish people, choosing loyalty and love over safety and certainty. In the quote, “people” comes before G-d, emphasizing that peoplehood and chosen belonging comes before covenant and faith.

• Speaking of chosenness, Phil taught two classes, one of which I wrote about last year. First, he spoke about how Jews have always struggled with how to explain chosenness in non-Jewish contexts, and in a separate talk, who gets (or doesn’t get) a portion in the world to come.

• I gave a 10-minute talk on The Torah in the Tarot by Stav Appel, which deserves at least a full hour. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, read this! I also gave Tarot readings and maybe turned a few skeptics.

• Fellow Substacker gave an inspiring talk about the Jews’ stiff-neckedness, which originates in Exodus 32:9: “And the Lord said to Moses: I have seen this people, and behold, it is a stiff-necked people.” Throughout history, our stubbornness has caused us to question, argue, hold on too tightly, and refuse to let go of what we believe matters. Empires rose and fell trying to crush us, convince us, erase us, and somehow we are still here in 5786, still singing the same songs, still telling the same stories, still choosing Jewish life.

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Then, Kabbalat Shabbat overflowed with spirit in the best communal, homemade kind of way.

All 60 of us gathered on the porch of the main dining hall, and friends led us to another plane of existence with their guitars and voices.

Halfway through the service, prayers transitioned to jumping, dancing, holding hands, and forming a conga line. It felt like a collective exhale through Hebrew song. We had so much spirit, we were afraid the porch was going to give out from underneath us!

Even my friend who is normally insecure and shy about dancing felt moved to let loose during Lecha Dodi like something shifted in him. Afterwards he said it felt like “angels were smiling down on us.”

The celebratory weekend culminated in a post-chag/Shabbat silent disco, which is my favorite activity ever. What made this one special was that this was my first silent disco where one of the channels played Israeli music! So you bet everyone switched to the green channel once Ofra Haza came on.

Here’s the playlist from the Israeli station, created by one of the participants. It’s a mix of spiritual niggunim and bangers:

Throughout the weekend, my mind kept drifting back to Yoni’s talk about our stiff necks, and the fact that we were all there celebrating a Jewish holiday because our ancestors refused to give up their tradition. They refused to be like anyone else.

What will happen when the Messiah comes? Maybe it will look like this: holding hands and dancing until the wooden slats of the porch give out. Children laughing on a sunny patch of grass. Fists pounding in rhythm on tables full of challah, wine, and delicious food. Silently swishing your hips to Akon’s “I Wanna **** You.”

Alright, maybe not that last one, but I would pay to see a room full of rabbis do that.

Mazel tov to Adina and Avi for creating a holy space for learning, joy, and connection, and to everyone who shared their wisdom with us.

✍️ Shabbat Prompt

What’s something you learned this Shavuot, or recently? Please share in the comments!

Shabbat Shalom (hey!),

💦 Like Shavuot? Check out these Drops: