It is terrible how much has been forgotten, which is why, I suppose, remembering seems a holy thing.

The story it told was unremarkable: a tale of love found and lost- the oldest story in the world. The only story.

I moved my arms through the water, feeling them float on the surface, watching the waves and wake that followed my gesture. Here was magic, I thought. Here was something holy.

Since 1985, I have written about contemporary Jewish practice and the Jewish community.

When a shy person smiles, it’s like the sun coming out.

As a journalist I'm comfortable doing library research, and I did a lot! I had a fellowship at Radcliff for a year which gave me access to the Harvard system.

There's nothing quite like a real . . . train conductor to add color to a quotidian commute