Parshah (Weekly Torah Reading)

I had always felt like a fraud in a church, quite torn, but didn’t know how to begin to live life as a Jew. So I slogged along, well into middle age, not knowing where to begin.

On my first trip to Israel in 1978, my traveling companion wanted to climb Mt. Sinai . . .

How could the rabbi claim to be supporting orphans with this money?

When no one was in the synagogue, he brought in the loaves under his cloak. He prayed that G‑d should look upon his offering with favor, and eat and enjoy the lovely, freshly baked bread . . .

“It is true,” announced R. Leib, “that according to the law the plaintiff must take his suit to the defendant’s locale; but since in this case ‘there is no place devoid of His presence,’ we will try the case here in Shpoli . . .”

A moment of faith does not separate between long-lost loves. It holds them together...

Fresh snow covers the ground, thinking I’m too young to know. On the other side of the pit four Russians dressed like railroad or construction workers look me up and down. I try not to look back.

One Friday afternoon, a man knocked on the door of Rabbi Yizchak Aizik, rabbi of Vitebsk. “I have a din Torah (a matter of litigation),” he said. “I request that you hear my case . . .”

Once upon a time in a small city in Midwestern America, there lived a very kindly and generous rabbi named Rabbi Shmotkin

Matter before spirit?