Short story: Comfort (III)

Wait for it... wait for... The tall blonde's thin cotton skirt swished as she walked by the loquat trees not far from the edge of the sidewalk. Behind her the sun continued its descent towards the distant Mediterranean, its beams piercing through the branches. The Star of David hanging from the her tanned neck sparkled.… Continue reading Short story: Comfort (III)

The skeptic’s kaddish for the atheist, 22

If I’m being honest, it’s easier to read and write about kaddish than it is to bethink myself of memories, even privately. - Me (Blog #13) At first, I thought I would study the kaddish in my father's memory to suffuse the rote with meaning, perhaps to even make it interesting. Quickly, I came to… Continue reading The skeptic’s kaddish for the atheist, 22

The skeptic’s kaddish for the atheist, 14

It happened that on Friday evening I was the only mourner in my minyan. Between mincha and the end of ma'ariv on Friday, there are three mourner's kaddishes and one kaddish d'rabbanan (rabbis' kaddish), all of which are the mourners' domain. On this particular Shabbat, they were all exclusively mine. The unexpected force of the congregation's response, 'amein,' to my first… Continue reading The skeptic’s kaddish for the atheist, 14

The skeptic’s kaddish for the atheist, 10

My father z"l identified as a non-religious Jew, à la the Israeli paradigm of religious identity (as does my mother), but this bears clarification. Babushka z"l (my mother's mother) described my parents as "religious," which both would consider amusing. I spoke with my Babushka nearly every day for years, and she often voiced this. According to her, my wife and… Continue reading The skeptic’s kaddish for the atheist, 10