So how do you create monumental Iron Age architecture without axes, hammers or iron tools? Yes, it could just mean that the milling happened at the quarry, many miles away where the ringing and clanging would not bother anybody. But that's too easy an answer for us Jews. Instead, our midrash, our vast array of legend, goes wild here. How did whole stones come to be so regular and perfectly shaped if iron chisels were forbidden? How were they transported if iron crowbars couldn't pry them onto wagons? One midrash suggests that the stones, once uncovered in the quarry, perfectly shaped, would hoist themselves up in the air and levitate to Jerusalem.
Read moreThe Illuminating Dark
We are living in dark times. I know this because people are saying it to me all the time. We are living in dark times. We reach for that metaphor because we are frightened and we need big language. "Dark times" has a pageantry, an epicness to it. Yes, children, gather round and Grandpa Irwin will tell you about the Dark Times.
A New King Arose: A Master Story for Protesters and Protectors
This story, this exodus story, is our master story for this moment. We know it well. We retell it every year. We have digested it along with so much parsley and saltwater. It is in our cells. We know it starts with enslavement. And we know it ends with freedom.
Read moreFear, Anxiety, Awe: A Road Trip
I was having pre-departure anxiety. Not just related to my trip, but related to the incoming administration and what I have been thinking about in anticipation as "the new era." I have had so much pre-departure anxiety that it has turned into fear. Because anxiety needs a destination.
Read moreThe Rebbetzin's Moon (A Tale of Missing Latkes)
She returned to her kitchen and lit lamps. The oven was hot. She inspected the larder. She still had potatoes, onions. But she only had her own two hands. The singing was beginning in the next room. And she wanted to hear her husband’s teaching so she could challenge him on it later. She made up her mind and walked into the parlor, now crowded with men. Her husband was lighting the eight candles of the last night of Hanukkah. “Omeyn,” she said loudly.
Read more