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Jewish marriage rites are robust. Now a rabbi is innovating rituals for Jews who divorce.
(J. The Jewish News of Northern California via JTA) — For Lyssa Jaye, throwing the wood chips into the Tuolumne River felt in many ways familiar to the tashlich ritual performed on Rosh Hashanah. But rather than casting off her sins, she was tossing away feelings: shame, resentment, anger.
They were the emotions that had taken residence inside Jaye since her divorce eight years ago, along with a sense of failure. And she had come to a Jewish retreat to rid herself of them.
“I’ve been carrying around these feelings for years now,” Jaye said. “I have a completely different life now, and I needed to let them go.”
Jaye was taking part in Divorce & Discovery: A Jewish Healing Retreat, the first-ever gathering in a series conceived by Rabbi Deborah Newbrun as part of her training, held this month at Camp Tawonga in the Bay Area.
One of the requirements at the Pluralistic Rabbinical Seminary, where Newbrun was ordained last year in the first graduating class, “was that each of us had to do an innovation, or something that didn’t exist before,” she said.
Newbrun, who directed Camp Tawonga for more than two decades, has been recognized for innovative programming for such achievements as initiating Tawonga’s LGBT family camp and founding its wilderness department. She even won a prestigious 2018 Covenant Award for Jewish educators. But as she started thinking about how to fulfill the seminary requirement, her first thought was, “I don’t have any ideas left in me.”
Then she began reflecting back on her divorce years earlier. She remembered how she had approached numerous rabbis and colleagues in search of Jewish support around the grief she felt. And how they all came up empty-handed.
That’s when she realized: “I can put together something meaningful and helpful for people going through divorce.”
From the moment participants arrived at Camp Tawonga near Yosemite, they knew this would be no ordinary Jewish retreat. At the opening event, all of the facilitators, several clergy members and a therapist shared their own divorce stories, “to set the standard and normalize vulnerability, transparent sharing and establish that we all know what it’s like to have a marriage end,” Newbrun said.
Most participants were from the Bay Area, with a handful from farther afield. They were in different life stages, from those in their 30s dealing with custody battles over young children, to empty nesters in their 60s. Some had separated from their partners years ago, while others had gone their separate ways more recently. Some split amicably; a good many did not. But all had come up against a lack of Jewish resources or support when navigating this major life passage.
Rabbi Deborah Newbrun, the founder of Divorce and Discovery at the recent weekend. (Photo/Margot Yecies)
Jaye said she left no stone unturned in seeking out support, an experience Newbrun said she heard echoed by many participants. Jaye attended a retreat at a local meditation center. She read self-help books. She joined a support group for divorcees. She went to therapy.
And while they all helped in different ways, none was specifically Jewish.
“I knew I needed some kind of spiritual way forward,” she said. “I needed to do this in my own language, with my own people.”
Even though the retreat came nearly a decade years after Jaye’s divorce, “it was profound. It felt like coming home, and that this is what I needed all along. This model could be extremely powerful. The rituals we did could be taught in rabbinical schools or to Jewish educators so it’s not just ‘sign this get and goodbye,’” she said, referring to the Jewish divorce document.
Rather than create new rituals, Newbrun and her facilitators took familiar Jewish rituals and retooled them.
The tashlich ritual, led by Newbrun and Maggid Jhos Singer, had a call-and-response portion, and participants also could call out what they personally wanted to cast off. “One person ‘tashliched’ their wedding ring into the river and felt it was such a perfect place to let it go!” said Newbrun.
An optional immersion in the Tuolumne River followed. Jaye, who years ago went to the mikvah alone, with only the attendant there for support, said there was no comparison with how much more healing it felt performing the ritual in community.
A session on sitting shiva for one’s marriage, led by Rabbi Sue Reinhold, allowed participants to share and mourn the loss of what they missed most about being married. That resonated for Robyn Lieberman, who does not attend synagogue services but went to every session at the retreat on innovating Jewish rituals.
“I did need to mourn what I’m losing,” said Lieberman, who had been married to an Israeli. “We had a very public, open house around Jewish religion, and a constant Israeli identity, which fulfilled my Jewish needs.”
Rabbi Jennie Chabon of Congregation B’nai Tikvah in Walnut Creek reflected on how much time she has spent with couples preparing for their wedding day, both in premarital counseling and in planning the event, and on how many marriage-related topics are covered in rabbinical school.
“And when it comes to divorce? Nothing,” Chabon said. “We’re all out here on our own trying to figure out how to wander through it.”
She was tasked with creating a havdalah ceremony with a divorce theme, in which she reimagined the wine, spices and flame typically used to mark a division between Shabbat and the rest of the week.
“There’s a fire that burns within each of us, and that flame doesn’t go out,” said Chabon, 47. “When you’re married for a long time, your identity, energy and spirit is so woven into that of another.” Her ritual was meant to affirm that “you are on fire just as you are, and you’re a blessing as an individual in the world. You don’t need a partnership or family to be whole.”
Even the Shabbat Torah service was on theme.
Rabbi Jennie Chabon reads from the Torah during a service at the Divorce and Discovery retreat. (Photo/Margot Yecies)
Rather than focusing on Noah’s emergence from the ark after the flood, Chabon spoke about a lesser-known section of the week’s Torah portion, in which Noah builds a fire and offers a sacrifice to God. But if the entire earth was drenched from the flood, Chabon asked, what did he burn?
“The answer is he must have burned the ark,” Chabon said in recalling her talk at the retreat. “What does that mean for people going through this incredibly painful and tender time in their lives, when what was once a safe container and secure and protected them, they have to burn it down in order to start life anew?
“This is a perfect rebirth metaphor. But what’s being birthed is a new self and a new identity in the world as a single person,” Chabon said. “You have to release and let go of what was to make room for the blessing for who you’re going to become.”
At a ritual “hackathon” workshop presented by Newbrun, participants suggested standing during Kaddish at synagogue to mourn their marriages, and offering their children a Friday night blessing that they are whole whether they are at either parent’s home.
Not all of the sessions centered on Jewish ritual. In a session on the Japanese art of kintsugi, or mending broken pottery, attendees made vessels whose cracks they fixed with putty, symbolizing that beauty can be found in imperfection. Many danced in a Saturday-night silent disco.
Everyone was assigned to a small group, or havurah, that they met with daily, so they could establish deeper connections within the larger cohort.
“To have gone through some of these practices was very meaningful to me,” said Lieberman. “It’s not like I put a seal on my marriage and wrapped it up in a bow and put it behind me, but it was a nice catharsis for completing a transition that I’ve been very thoughtful about.”
Newbrun aims to recreate the retreat in communities around the country. Both Jaye and Lieberman said they found value in being in community with people “who get it,” without the judgment they often face.
“I was a little skeptical that all I’d have in common with people was that we were Jewish and divorced, and that that wouldn’t be enough for me to form a relationship,” said Lieberman. “But having the willingness to talk about it and explore it did open up a lot of very vulnerable conversations. The expert facilitation really made us think about the fact that divorce is not about your paper [certificate], it’s about reexamining the direction of your life and who you want to be.”
A version of this piece originally ran in J. The Jewish News of Northern California, and is reprinted with permission.
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The Evidence Says That Al Jazeera Collaborates With Hamas
The Al Jazeera Media Network logo is seen on its headquarters building in Doha, Qatar, June 8, 2017. Photo: REUTERS/Naseem Zeitoon
Al Jazeera’s leadership shake-up has been in the headlines. But will its new executives direct the Qatari state-funded media arm to cease its cozy relationship with Hamas?
Allegations have been swirling that the royal family’s soft power news outlet is not merely reporting what Hamas says — but is actively collaborating with the terrorist organization.
Al Jazeera sells its content to major wire services like the AP and Reuters. Al Jazeera has resource-sharing agreements that allow outlets like CNN to access Al Jazeera’s footage and Al Jazeera to use CNN’s news feed.
Al Jazeera also has arrangements with BBC, France 24, and The Guardian that enable them to use Al Jazeera’s video footage and reports. Other media outlets, including Deutsche Welle and Euronews, have direct syndication arrangements, allowing them to use Al Jazeera’s content without intermediaries.
Credible reports indicate that Al Jazeera’s ties to Hamas extend well beyond journalism. Evidence points to coordination between the Qatari network and Hamas terrorists, raising serious reputational and policy questions for Al Jazeera and for media or corporate partners that cooperate with it.
Reporters Working for Both Al Jazeera and Hamas
Six Al Jazeera journalists simultaneously worked for Hamas or Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ), according to evidence seized by the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) that has been made public.
Three have since been killed in Gaza. At any credible outlet, concurrently working for a US-designated terrorist organization would result in immediate dismissal. Not so with Al Jazeera. The absence of accountability speaks volumes.
Some of these journalists reportedly participated in Hamas’ October 7, 2023, assault, joining the terrorists who breached and burned Israeli kibbutzim near Gaza, massacring nearly 1,200 and kidnapping 250 others.
Media and corporate partners should have immediately paused collaboration with Al Jazeera until a credible internal investigation was conducted. But it appears that no such credible investigation occurred. Instead, the network issued denials that its reporters were working with Hamas.
Al Jazeera’s Role in Hamas’ October 7 Plan
The New York Times reported that Hamas’ October 7 massacre involved a detailed media strategy. This appeared to include a role for Al Jazeera, which aired prerecorded messages from Hamas commanders during the attack to inspire Arabs outside of Gaza to join in the fighting.
Al Jazeera’s reported collaboration as part of Hamas’ media strategy was not some innocuous business deal. Documents seized by the IDF reveal the terror group sought to ignite uprisings among Palestinians in the West Bank, Israeli Arabs, and Iranian proxies like Hezbollah on Israel’s northern border. One seized memo from 2023 stated that “two or three operations in which an entire neighborhood, kibbutz, or something similar will be burned” must occur to galvanize others.
There could be no credible denial about what was taking place. Hamas actively sought to broadcast its atrocities. Intercepts show that around 10 a.m. on October 7, a Hamas battalion commander, Abu Mohammed, ordered his fighters to “start setting homes on fire,” shouting “Burn, burn” and “I want the whole kibbutz in flames.”
Another six-page handwritten plan attributed to Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar directed militants to “stomp on the heads of soldiers,” shoot them “at point-blank range,” and “slaughter some with knives.”
Commanders repeated and executed these orders in real time. “Slit their throats,” one said. “Kill everyone on the road. Kill everyone you encounter.” Another instructed, “Take a lot of hostages.”
According to a podcast featuring Ronen Bergman, a coauthor of the New York Times piece, Hamas wanted to showcase its “success” by showing Israelis dying, homes burning, and tanks exploding to convince allies that the destruction of Israel could be achieved.
Al Jazeera’s role was to spread this message, airing prerecorded communications from Hamas military chief Mohammed Deif, who proclaimed: “The day has come when anyone who has a gun should take it out. Now is the time. If you do not have a gun, take up your cleaver, axe, Molotov cocktail, truck, tractor, or car.”
Bergman explained that these speeches were “coordinated” and “perfectly synchronized” with Al Jazeera’s broadcasts.
A Hamas commander named Abu al-Baraa, according to intercepted communications, told Hamas terrorists invading Israel: “Document the scenes of horror, now, and broadcast them on TV channels to the whole world. Slaughter them. End the children of Israel.”
During and after the attack, Al Jazeera broadcast footage of the massacre while also airing Hamas’ messages, essentially serving as the group’s propaganda arm.
Throughout the war, Al Jazeera aired exclusive footage from Hamas tunnels, portraying the terrorist group as resilient rather than exposing its use of civilian areas for terror operations. It’s telling that Al Jazeera’s coverage portrayed Hamas as winning, while the network refrained from any criticism of the terrorist group’s leadership, tactics, hoarding of humanitarian aid, or harm done to Gazans for starting the war.
Internal Hamas communications dated before October 7 also show that the group instructed Al Jazeera to use specific terminology and limit visuals of failed rocket launches that fell inside Gaza. Al Jazeera reportedly complied with these instructions.
Direct Dial: Hamas’ Line Into Al Jazeera
Evidence found by the IDF and analyzed by the Meir Amit Intelligence and Terrorism Information Center reveals that Hamas and Al Jazeera maintained a structured communications pipeline throughout the Israel-Hamas war. The captured Hamas documents show the creation of a “secure phone line” — referred to as the “Al Jazeera phone” — linking Hamas’ military operations room in Gaza directly to “Al Jazeera’s management offices in Doha.”
The line reportedly allowed Hamas to “control coverage in real time” by transmitting instructions on which events to air, what terminology to use, and which images to suppress.
Additional documents revealed that Hamas operatives sent media directives to Al Jazeera’s newsroom with detailed guidance on editorial framing. One 2022 memo urged the network to “minimize” images from a failed rocket launch that killed Gazan civilians and to avoid using the term “massacre” to refer to the event.
A subsequent Hamas media directive requested that Al Jazeera journalists coordinate with the movement’s “military media unit” before broadcasting material about the PIJ, ensuring consistency with Hamas’ narratives.
The Meir Amit Center described this pattern of coordination as “neither random nor isolated but systematic, organized and continuous.”
Why the Journalism World Should be Alarmed
Those who partner and collaborate with Al Jazeera cannot dismiss these findings as mere considerations. Continued cooperation with a network that coordinates with Hamas carries reputational, ethical, and potentially legal consequences. The same scrutiny applied to financial institutions accused of directly or indirectly supporting terror should extend to media entities that amplify or assist it.
Toby Dershowitz is a senior advisor at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies, where Asher Boiskin is an intern. Follow them on X @TobyDersh and @asherboiskin.
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Hamas Is Still in Power — What Does That Mean for the Gaza ‘Peace’ Deal?
Palestinian militants stand guard on the day that hostages held in Gaza since the deadly Oct. 7, 2023, attack, are handed over to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), as part of a ceasefire and hostages-prisoners swap deal between Hamas and Israel, in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, Oct. 13, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Ramadan Abed
For weeks, the world praised the so-called “historic ceasefire deal” in Gaza brokered by President Donald Trump. It was hailed as a diplomatic masterstroke, a moment of supposed statesmanship that would stop the war, bring stability, and resolve the hostage crisis.
But peel away the glitter, and the truth is painfully simple: only one promise of that deal was fully kept — the release of the living Israeli hostages. Everything else collapsed into illusion or danger. And once again, Israel was left to deal with the consequences alone.
The ceasefire did not dismantle Hamas, disarm it, or replace it with any mechanism of governance that could prevent another October 7. Hamas remained in power, kept its rockets, rifles, explosives, and tunnels, and continues to kill Palestinians who dared to dissent.
Hundreds of Gazans were murdered by Hamas, while the world looked away. Even after enjoying international legitimacy through a US-sponsored deal, Hamas refused to return the remains of three murdered Israelis to their families. And far from reforming, restraining, or civilizing Hamas, the ceasefire simply gave the group more time, money, and power.
So while the world celebrated a “diplomatic breakthrough,” Israel understood the truth: a deal that leaves a genocidal terror group in power is not peace. It is temporary anesthesia.
The consequences of this deal did not end in Gaza. They reached Washington, and they reached the Oval Office. President Trump has continued building ties with Qatar, ignoring the fact that its government was harboring Hamas leaders, funding extremist propaganda, and fueling anti-Israel operations across the Middle East. Israel was asked to play nice with its enemies because powerful men in fancy palaces were writing very expensive checks.
Even more dangerous was Trump’s plan to sell F-35 stealth fighters to Saudi Arabia, a regime ruled by an authoritarian monarchy with a long record of human rights abuses, zero tolerance for dissent, and a history of anti-Israel rhetoric. There are also serious questions about whether the US and Israel can trust guarantees from Turkey and Syria, which the former being especially unlikely.
The lesson is clear. International guarantees come and go. American presidents change. Arab regimes shift alliances. Tyrants receive gifts, favors, and weapons. But Israel’s enemies remain the same. And the lesson is as old as the State of Israel itself: never trust foreign promises, and never depend on foreign protection. Israel can rely only on herself.
A ceasefire deal that empowers Hamas is not peace. Weapons shipments to dictators are not stability.
Israel’s own courage, strength, and moral clarity is what will keep her safe long after the glitter of these “historic deals” fades into dust.
Sabine Sterk is the CEO of Time To Stand Up For Israel.
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The Sacred Power of Challah Bakes and Why I Keep Doing Them
A loaf of challah being prepared. Photo: Aish.
There I was last week, standing on the rooftop of the AISH Institute for Women’s Education, flour dusting my blue apron, watching dozens of young women with their hands kneading dough. The Jerusalem skyline stretched out behind us like God’s own backdrop for our first-ever challah bake at the new seminary in the heart of the city — an event I’ve dreamed of hosting for so many years.
I’ve often held these events in other locations — what I call my “ABCs of Challah Bakes” tour, from Amsterdam, to Brooklyn, to Cape Town, and everywhere in between.
I’ve literally been flown around the world to knead dough with Jewish women. Sounds crazy, right? But there’s something magical about hosting this on the rooftop of our newly inaugurated seminary with young women who have come from all over the world to study Jewish wisdom together.
Through this Challah bake, we joined tens of thousands of women who were participating in similar events in stadiums, synagogues, and community centers worldwide, each of us elbow-deep in flour. We shared something monumental that brought us together in a way that was both moving and invigorating. The Shabbos Project figured this magic out 12 years ago, and honestly, they struck gold.
Want to know the real secret to challah bakes? They’re the Jewish equivalent of a universal welcome mat. I’ve seen women show up who haven’t set foot in a synagogue in decades or ever. Women who don’t fast on Yom Kippur or attend a Passover seder. Women who would typically run from anything remotely religious. Yet somehow, they come out of the woodwork for challah bakes. It’s mind-blowing! Maybe it’s the smell of fresh bread, maybe it’s the laughter and camaraderie, maybe it’s just the promise of those sweet and sumptuous carbs for the special day of Shabbos, but they come, and that’s what matters.
Since October 7, these events have gained even more momentum. For two years, our hearts broke daily thinking about what’s been happening in Israel and what was transpiring for the hostages in Gaza. I believe it is because of the search for connection that many Jews felt after October 7th, that these challah bake gatherings have morphed into something even more powerful.
Women who felt disconnected were suddenly craving community. The simple act of kneading dough has become this beautiful act of resilience. We’re literally taking flour and water, and a few more basic ingredients, and creating something nourishing when so much around us feels impossibly out of control.
I’ve always been a believer in the spiritual side of challah baking — just ask my family. I’ve been preaching about it for years. But then came Ori Megidish’s story. Her mother baked challah and made a special blessing for her daughter’s safe return on October 27, 2023, while Ori was held hostage by Hamas, praying with every fold of her dough for her daughter’s safe return. Three days later, Ori became the first hostage rescued by the IDF. Social media went wild connecting the dots. It made challah bakes look pretty powerful, and women noticed.
This isn’t superstition, mysticism, or folklore; Jewish tradition actually teaches that the moment when we separate a small piece from our dough is an incredibly auspicious time for prayer. Standing there with dough on your hands, preparing food that will nourish people you love and separating a small piece in compliance with Jewish law, our sages teach, is precisely the moment when heaven’s paying extra close attention to our prayers.
At our rooftop event, we aimed those prayers toward healing, physical, mental, and spiritual, for everyone touched by this horrific conflict in addition to very personal, heartfelt prayers and blessings for two new brides in the group. There were belly laughs and quiet tears, sometimes from the same person within minutes.
These gatherings work because you walk away with something real, actual bread that fills your home with that Friday afternoon (aka “erev shabbos”) smell that takes you right back to your bubby’s kitchen. But you also leave with something you can’t Instagram: new friends, renewed purpose, and this crazy warm feeling that you’re part of something bigger than yourself.
That’s why I’ll keep doing these as long as I possibly can. Like I’ve witnessed at the Suzana and Ivan Kaufman AISH Institute for Women’s Education, I’ve watched shy women who came once reluctantly then return year after year with friends in tow. I’ve seen friendships form across decades and continents.
I’ve witnessed the power of flour and water to heal wounds you can’t see, and in a world desperate for healing, there’s something revolutionary about women performing this ancient ritual together. The challah feeds our bodies; the community and spirituality of the moment feed our souls. As we shape our dough, we’re reshaping our world, one prayer, one loaf, and one gathering at a time.
And who knows? With enough flour, faith, and friendship, we might just heal all that divides us.
Jamie Geller is the Global Spokesperson and Chief Communications Officer for AISH. She is a bestselling cookbook author, Jewish education advocate, and formerly an award-winning producer and marketing executive with HBO, CNN, and Food Network.