Новости за 18.04.2016

The other night I fell asleep with Passover on my mind.

The holiday has been my personal marker, a ritual bridge between the darkness of winter and the light of spring. But this past winter was marked by unusual amounts of angst, restlessness, and loss: the cloud of aging parents, the passing of a beloved aunt, and a barrage of friends and family facing serious health issues has left me in a spiritual and existential funk. Now, as Passover approaches, I wonder, and hope. Will the holiday’s... Читать дальше...

Editor’s note: The following is a version of the speech delivered by the author on Sunday, April 17, 2016, at a ceremony in Germany marking the 71st anniversary of the liberation of Bergen-Belsen.

There are a lot of Jews—about 1.6 million, spread out over about 700,000 households, according to a recent study—living in the Greater New York area, the largest Jewish population in the United States. Which got me thinking about how much money New York Jews will spend to properly fill their Seder plates. So let’s have some fun.

Passover is here. Can you feel it? Can you feel the back pain, the plagues, the Exodus—wait, where’s the wine? Are you ready for a belly full of matzo and karpas? Who put this person in charge of the Seder? WHEN ARE WE EATING? Who’s singing “Dayenu” with me? “Chad Gadya?” Hey! I never got that much money for finding the afikoman when I was a kid. Where are the raspberry Jelly Rings? Look, watch me eat them off my fingers.

A crowded hotel lobby in Breslau in late 1932. People waited there to see “the man of the hour,” Adolf Hitler. Hitler was touring Germany in his final bid for power. One of the spectators in the Breslau Hotel lobby was Franz Werfel. Werfel was disconcerted by seeing Hitler in person. When asked by his wife what his first personal impression of the Nazi leader had been, Werfel had reluctantly admitted, “Unfortunately, not so bad.” And this only made his current project all the more urgent: to warn Germany against Hitler. Читать дальше...

Proust had his madeleine. I had Fanny’s Passover honey cake.

Memories of Passover are synonymous in my mind with my grandmother Fanny. It seemed like she prepared forever for the holiday. Everything was homemade—she even made her own horseradish for her sublime gefilte fish. To this day, I can’t abide the store-bought tough rubber ovals that pass for this delicacy.

Continue reading "Searching for the Perfect Passover Honey Cake" at...

Today on Israel Story, we delve into the messy territory of family bonds—how they’re formed, challenged, and change over time. We’ll meet three families who are all, at the end of the day, happy, but are not (contrary to Tolstoy’s claim) in any way alike.