A meditation for Lech Lecha, in the season of the olive harvest. There are trees that seem to hold time differently. Olive trees twist and thicken as they age. They can live for centuries, almost always outliving the people who plant them. An olive tree is not simply a symbol of peace or endurance. In the West Bank, and throughout the land that many know as Palestine, an olive tree connects generations of a family who tend to it. Since 1967, Palestinian farmers have faced res

I grew up in the backseat of our family Volvo station wagon listening to a lot of good music. Paul Simon’s Graceland. John Fogerty. And a lot of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. One of my favorite songs—which I later learned was actually written by Joni Mitchell—included the lines: We are stardust, we are golden We are billion-year-old carbon And we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden. It’s not just a great line—which it is. But as this song has traveled with me from chil

Erev Sukkot 5787 I have some bad news about our sukkah. Actually, I have some bad news about all of our sukkot. There is a nor'easter coming this weekend. And apparently the weather gods have decided that the appropriate way to begin Sukkot this year is by conducting an experiment in the structural integrity of Jewish temporary dwellings. We have spent all this time building the sukkah — the walls, the schach, the decorations. We made it beautiful. And now the wind is coming.