Last Passover began the urgent quest to reinvent much of Jewish life, highlighting that some of the ways we “do” Judaism needed to be updated. This year has been a powerful catalyst to shifts in how we perform our holy work.

This year, because of the COVID-19 pandemic, nearly all schools in Israel have been closed for most of the year, leaving students stuck at home and trying to complete their studies remotely. All of them are hurting – emotionally and socially.

Purim approaches, and like every other holiday we've observed during the pandemic, it will look and be different.

This is not yet the America most of us dream of, but it is an unavoidable part of our DNA. American equality and exceptionalism are checks that are still in the mail. If we truly love what this country is capable of, we must continue to speak the hard truth to power.

Today, comedy is a national vernacular, a social and cultural force. We communicate in memes. We look to late night to process the news. Good (and even dumb) comedy challenges and connects, activates and affirms.

In the 1980s and '90s, Israel committed to helping Ethiopian Jews make aliyah and become Israeli citizens. To this day, though, a small group of Jews remain in Ethiopia and have been unable to immigrate.

During a time when many feel so disconnected, Rabbi Jeff Glickman and Mindy Glickman of Temple Beth Hillel in South Windsor, CT, decided to take on a radical idea: Join as many Reform synagogues in America as possible.

It has been almost 50 years since I met my wife Judy in Jerusalem. She came into my life like the Sabbath queen about to enter the synagogue, with everyone rising and turning toward the door to welcome her in.

One unforgettable event of my youth triggered a lifelong question: How could a religion that stressed universal love and God’s “Amazing Grace” vilify and demonize its spiritual and historic parent: my beloved Judaism?