With pain in our hearts for losses past and, we fear, losses yet to come, Lilith will in coming weeks and months continue to publish the stories of Jewish feminists about terror, loss, displacement, and connection.
Here’s something to lift Melanie’s spirits. Or perhaps anger her further. Though I “defended” Ann Coulter two posts ago from the big whoop about her statements regarding Jews on CNBC’s… Read more »
You probably don’t have to think too hard to guess what my feelings are of the stereotypes of Jewish women as guilt-inducing shrews. I’m not much of a fan, to… Read more »
The back to the land movement – when city folks packed up and moved to rural places to try out their country legs – enjoyed its heyday in the 1960s… Read more »
Do you ever have that thing where you get really involved with your own life for a few days, and you don’t read the newspaper or hit the blogs or… Read more »
There’s good news and there’s bad news. The bad news is, domestic abuse is a problem in the Jewish community. The good news is, as a spate of recent articles… Read more »
A few weeks ago, I shared a Shabbat meal with mostly strangers – a last minute invitation, friend-of-a-friend sort of thing. Like so many other Shabbat dinners I’ve attended, the… Read more »
I feel bad for Ann Coulter. It’s not that she isn’t, as comedian Kathy Griffin put in the comedy special I saw on TV last night, “a crazy @&#@%,” but… Read more »
It seems that the question of communication versus righteous anger just won’t leave us alone. Frank Rich’s op-ed piece in this Sunday’s New York Times made me feel shame and… Read more »
Last Monday I went to an event called “Eating Local in Brooklyn,” hosted by the uber-foodie organization, Slow Food NYC. I didn’t realize, walking in to the event, that I… Read more »
The observance of the Simchat Torah holiday, the time when Jews celebrate the end and beginning of the Torah reading cycle, was particularly celebratory — and historically significant – this… Read more »
Are you preparing for your Passover to look different this year?
What Haggadah inserts are you using? Will you have an orange on your Seder plate? An olive? A place setting for hostages?
Tell us in the comments.
Are you preparing for your Passover to look different this year?
What Haggadah inserts are you using? Will you have an orange on your Seder plate? An olive? A place setting for hostages?
Tell us in the comments.
We were having a lot of trouble getting into Passover this year. And then we saw @tirtzahbassel`s new painting, "Red Sea Parting," (23”x22”, gouache on paper, 2024.) Wish Miriam and her drummers could be our doulas, ushering us through this time.
***
@tirtzahbassel writes—Wound/Womb: A friend sent me an illumination from a medieval Haggadah that portrayed the Israelites emerging from the Red Sea through a vulva-shaped opening, and it made me think of the story of Exodus as a story of birthing.
After I gave birth to my son, I remember telling my friend that “giving birth is one thing you can’t think your way through”. Intellectual preparation or rationalization were so vastly inadequate to meet the intensity of this pain. There was no reasoning with it, only a dawning realization that the only way forward was through, that the most you can handle is one contraction at a time. You muster every ounce of psychic and physical power that you can command and count ten breaths because the doula said you can handle anything for ten breaths, and you have no choice but to believe her.
We often see our traumas as wounds, but can we see them as wombs? Could the blinding pain be a contraction that we cannot conceptualize, but can move through breath by breath, knowing it is not a mark of victimhood but an ability to birth new life?
We were having a lot of trouble getting into Passover this year. And then we saw @tirtzahbassel`s new painting, "Red Sea Parting," (23”x22”, gouache on paper, 2024.) Wish Miriam and her drummers could be our doulas, ushering us through this time.
***
@tirtzahbassel writes—Wound/Womb: A friend sent me an illumination from a medieval Haggadah that portrayed the Israelites emerging from the Red Sea through a vulva-shaped opening, and it made me think of the story of Exodus as a story of birthing.
After I gave birth to my son, I remember telling my friend that “giving birth is one thing you can’t think your way through”. Intellectual preparation or rationalization were so vastly inadequate to meet the intensity of this pain. There was no reasoning with it, only a dawning realization that the only way forward was through, that the most you can handle is one contraction at a time. You muster every ounce of psychic and physical power that you can command and count ten breaths because the doula said you can handle anything for ten breaths, and you have no choice but to believe her.
We often see our traumas as wounds, but can we see them as wombs? Could the blinding pain be a contraction that we cannot conceptualize, but can move through breath by breath, knowing it is not a mark of victimhood but an ability to birth new life?
We lost one of the greats— visionary artist (and beloved children`s book author) Faith Ringgold. May her memory be a blessing. Passover is the perfect time to lift up her midrash (telling/interpretation) of an exodus story with "Here Comes Moses" (2014).
The writing around the edge reads:
Aunt Emmy said he`d find us one day.
That boy came North to freedom in a storm.
He lost his mother and father on the way.
"They`ll never find me in this storm, but we will all find Freedom, God willing.
We were born to be free, I will never give up," said Moses.
Moses was only twelve years old when he came to Jones Road on Thanksgiving Day in 1793.
We lost one of the greats— visionary artist (and beloved children`s book author) Faith Ringgold. May her memory be a blessing. Passover is the perfect time to lift up her midrash (telling/interpretation) of an exodus story with "Here Comes Moses" (2014).
The writing around the edge reads:
Aunt Emmy said he`d find us one day.
That boy came North to freedom in a storm.
He lost his mother and father on the way.
"They`ll never find me in this storm, but we will all find Freedom, God willing.
We were born to be free, I will never give up," said Moses.
Moses was only twelve years old when he came to Jones Road on Thanksgiving Day in 1793.
"I knew his seder was not just a tribute to his grandfather, an affirmation of his own history. It was a refutation of that feeling of not belonging. It was about his experience of being Jewish, saying out loud that being Jewish mattered. Who was I to insist on a place at the head of that table?"
Re-reading Jennifer Burleigh`s "A Place At the Table" as we stare down Pesach—linked in our bio.
Illustration by @sofinaydenova in Lilith`s Fall 2017 issue.
"I knew his seder was not just a tribute to his grandfather, an affirmation of his own history. It was a refutation of that feeling of not belonging. It was about his experience of being Jewish, saying out loud that being Jewish mattered. Who was I to insist on a place at the head of that table?"
Re-reading Jennifer Burleigh`s "A Place At the Table" as we stare down Pesach—linked in our bio.
Illustration by @sofinaydenova in Lilith`s Fall 2017 issue.
