The tablets broke. God said: carve new ones. This Shushan Purim, Jerusalem read the Megillah under Iranian missiles — and danced.

There is a man in Cortina d'Ampezzo, Italy, right now — a Jewish attorney from South Florida named Jared Firestone — hurtling face-first down an ice track on a sled the size of a cafeteria tray. He is representing Israel in skeleton at the Winter Olympics. He finished twenty-second out of twenty-four competitors. He is thrilled. Last week, at the opening ceremony in Milan, Firestone carried the Israeli flag while wearing a kippah embroidered with the names of the eleven Israe

The women packed drums before they left Egypt. Before the sea split. Before there was any reason to sing. Rashi wants to know where the timbrels came from.

There is a falafel stand at Mahane Yehuda market in Jerusalem that changed a man's life. Not because the falafel was extraordinary — though if you've been to Mahane Yehuda, you know it might have been. But because of what he saw when the fried chickpea balls came out of the oil. Round. Golden-brown. Warm. David "Dugo" Leitner was fourteen years old in January 1945 when the Nazis marched him out of Auschwitz. Starving, freezing, wearing camp clothes in the Polish snow, he drea

God made four promises of redemption. Nobody was ready to hear them. He started anyway.

Israelis chose "homeward" as their word of the year. Moses named his son "stranger in a foreign land." The parsha that starts Exodus moves in one direction.

Moses asked to see God's face. God said: you'll see My back. You recognize the goodness after it passes. This Sukkot, it passed.