Today, my wife said goodbye to her 2015 Honda Pilot. It was not an attractive car (particularly as of late), but it had lived a full life. By the time we handed over the keys, the odometer read 271,587 miles.

Twenty feet sounds like a lot until it has to hold a lifetime. In just a few days, the movers will come to pack our belongings into a twenty-foot container that will carry them across the ocean.

We should stop pretending that convenience has helped us become better communicators. It hasn’t. It has allowed us to respond faster. It has made us easier to reach. But it has not nurtured honesty, attentiveness, or presence.

There are moments in history that change everything. And then there are moments so foundational, so transcendent, that it seems all of history was waiting for them.

A couple of months ago, I received a draft of the rental agreement for the apartment my wife and I will be moving into in Israel. It was exactly what one would expect: a long, detailed contract covering payments, responsibilities, damages, and timelines. The kind of document you move through

A group of families arrive early in the morning, the kind of early that still carries a hint of quiet before the park fills. There is a shared sense of anticipation, a blend of nostalgia and possibility. Parents point out rides they remember, and children run a few steps ahead,

What does it actually mean to lead well? Not to be correct, not to be knowledgeable, not even to be respected, but to genuinely influence the people in your care over the long term? The first Mishnah of Pirkei Avos, which we began this past Shabbos, may have more to

What was the weather like the day before the most important moments in history? What was it like when Avraham left his home, when Yaakov returned, when Moshe first stood before Pharaoh? We do not know. The Torah does not tell us. There is, however, a particular moment, a strikingly

The miracle of K’rias Yam Suf didn’t begin when the sea split. It began in the moments just before, when it looked like there would be no miracle at all.  It began when Pharaoh’s chariots thundered in from behind, the sea stretched cold and impassable ahead, and Bnei Yisrael stood

לע”נ אילנה חנה בת יוסף אברהם ז”ל Each year, we sit at the Seder and say words that are both familiar and demanding: בכל דור ודור חייב אדם לראות את עצמו כאילו הוא יצא ממצרים. We are not asked to remember the Exodus. We are asked to see ourselves inside

At times, we each wonder what it would have been like to be there. Standing at the shore of the Yam Suf, watching Egyptian archers draw their bows, only for the arrows to shatter against a cloud that has no business being there, a pillar of divine fire and glory,

At the recent RIETS dinner, I had the distinct privilege to serve as moderator for a Q&A panel discussion featuring Rabbi Dovid Miller, Rabbi Efrem Goldberg, and Rabbi Yisroel Kaminetsky. It was an honor to facilitate a conversation of such depth and significance. It may be viewed in its entirety