by Nessa Rapoport
To be grown up implies a state of arrival, but i am a work in progress, humbled daily by what i cannot accept, or even grasp. Here, my children have been my teachers. They frequently hear the words “I don’t know” and, alas, “I’m sorry.” And they understand—I hope—that although I have many unwavering principles, the interpretation of those principles may be surprisingly porous: In the house of Israel that my husband and I invent daily, a teenager’s sound argument can undo the fiat. Rather easily!
by Fiona Rosenbloom
by Danya Ruttenberg
by Ruth Andrew Ellenson
by Sonia Levitin
by Shulamit Reinharz
by Hannah R. Goodman
by Marilyn Sachs
by Anita Diamant
by Isabel Rose
by Sarah Darer Littman
by Nessa Rapoport
by Judith Katzir
by Valerie Zenatt