Uncategorized
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.
—
The post Jewish marriage rites are robust. Now a rabbi is innovating rituals for Jews who divorce. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
Minnesota’s Democratic nominee is an Israel critic – but she is not El-Sayed 2.0
(JTA) — Peggy Flanagan, the likely next senator from Minnesota, defeated a moderate pro-Israel congresswoman, accuses Israel of genocide and says she would oppose offensive weapons sales to Israel.
If the victory Tuesday of the state’s lieutenant governor over Rep. Angie Craig sounds like an echo of last week’s election in another midwestern state, Michigan, listen a little closer: Flanagan differs from Abdul El-Sayed in critical if subtle ways when it comes to Israel and Jews.
Flanagan has not joined El-Sayed and a number of left-wing challengers for Congress in saying that she would oppose U.S. funding for defensive weapons like the Iron Dome missile program.
Her platform says she would have joined the two incumbent Minnesota senators, Amy Klobuchar – who is running for governor, and whom she hopes to replace – and Tina Smith “in voting to halt offensive weapons sales to Israel.” That places her within the current Democratic mainstream: 40 out of 47 senators who caucus with the Democrats voted in April for the bill banning offensive weapons when it came up.
Her platform also calls for “a two-state solution which allows for a secure Israel and Palestinian self-determination.” El-Sayed will not commit to recognizing Israel’s existence as a Jewish state, or to a two-state solution.
The crisis moment in El-Sayed’s relationship with his state’s Jewish community came when he appeared to equivocate in condemning a violent attack on a Detroit area synagogue in March when pre-school was in session.
Flanagan was unequivocal: “Our Jewish communities are facing unprecedented levels of violence and threats,” she wrote then on social media. “It is on all of us to call anti-semitism out when we see and hear it, and to make sure that all of our faith communities are treated with respect. Hate brings no one more safety, more dignity, or more peace.”
She is equally as adamant when the threat is closer to home. In 2025, on the anniversary of the Oct. 7, 2023 attack, a different synagogue called Temple Israel in Minneapolis was vandalized with graffiti in the shape of two inverted triangles — a symbol associated with Hamas — and reading “Al-Aqsa Flood,” Hamas’ name for its attack on Israel.
“Last night, Temple Israel in Minneapolis was defaced with anti-Semitic hate,” Flanagan wrote. “My heart is with the congregants of Temple Israel and our entire Jewish community. Hate has no home in Minnesota, and every house of worship should be a safe place to pray.”
There are things that Flanagan has done and said that nonetheless unsettled the pro-Israel community.
Some Jewish Democrats voiced concern to the Minnesota Star Tribune that Flanagan played into antisemitic tropes by singling out the American Israel Public Affairs Committee in her campaign against Craig – a page out of El-Sayed’s playbook in defeating AIPAC-backed Rep. Haley Stevens, and the playbook of a number of progressive congressional candidates this year. During the lead-up to the primary, Flanagan was vocal about her opponent Craig’s support from the pro-Israel lobby, calling her “AIPAC’s candidate.”
A Flanagan spokesperson told the paper that she has “consistently condemned antisemitism and will continue standing with Jewish Minnesotans against hate.” Flanagan’s campaign did not return a request for comment.
Flanagan had the support of Israel-critical progressives, including Sen. Bernie Sanders, the Vermont senator who authored the proposed ban on the sale of offensive weapons, and Rep. Ilhan Omar of Minnesota. Like them – and unlike Smith and Klobuchar – she has accused Israel of genocide.
She also drew the endorsement of progressive Jewish organization Bend the Arc.
“She is a close friend of the Twin Cities Jewish community and a trusted ally in the fight against antisemitism,” wrote Bend the Arc’s CEO, Jamie Beran. “She understands that Jewish safety is bound up with the safety and freedom of all our neighbors.”
Now, Flanagan will take on Republican nominee Michele Tafoya, a former NFL sideline reporter who has expressed support for Israel and its war with the U.S. in Iran. Minnesota has not elected a Republican U.S. Senator since 2002. Flanagan is favored to win in a state which has trended increasingly blue in recent years.
Flanagan also says she will not support New York’s Chuck Schumer if he chooses to seek another term as party leader in the Senate. Schumer is a pro-Israel stalwart.
Republicans, who control the Senate, have unanimously voted against Sanders’ resolutions, rendering them essentially symbolic tools for Democrats to voice disapproval of the Israeli government. If progressive Israel critics like El-Sayed and Troy Jackson in Maine win in November and help flip the Senate — and especially if Schumer gives up leadership — the pathway to blocking weapons sales to Israel would become clearer than ever.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Minnesota’s Democratic nominee is an Israel critic – but she is not El-Sayed 2.0 appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
‘History cannot be erased’: ‘Hostages Square’ in Tel Aviv is formalized in official name change
(JTA) — The plaza that became the center of Israel’s campaign to bring home the 251 captives Hamas seized on Oct.7, 2023 is now formally called “Hostages Square,” establishing a permanent reminder of the more than two-year struggle that ended with the return of the final hostage in January.
Mayor Ron Huldai unveiled new signage at the plaza outside the Tel Aviv Museum of Art on Wednesday, formally adopting the name Israelis had used for the site for close to three years.
Hostage families and their supporters gathered at the square for mass rallies, weekly Shabbat gatherings, vigils and public events demanding the release of those held in Gaza. The plaza was also filled with crowds celebrating as hostages returned home.
“History cannot be erased, and we must not allow it to be forgotten,” Huldai said at the unveiling. “The decision to name this place ‘Hostages Square’ is intended to ensure that this chapter in the history of the State of Israel, from October 7, 2023 until the return of the final hostage, Ran Gvili, on January 26, 2026, will be remembered for generations.”
The formal designation settles a debate over whether or not the site’s role in one of the more significant events in Israel history should be remembered or erased.
After a deal was announced in October 2025 to free the remaining living hostages, Dani Miran, whose son Omri spent 738 days in Hamas captivity, personally urged Huldai to rename the plaza “Returnees Square.” Other proposals included “Heroes Square” and names emphasizing unity, while relatives of hostages whose bodies were still being held in Gaza argued that the existing name should remain until everyone was returned.
The last hostage, police officer Ran Gvili, was returned to Israel on Jan. 26 after his remains were recovered in Gaza. The following day, the clock in Hostages Square that had counted the time since Oct. 7 was stopped after 844 days.
The site still carries a political charge: In July, protesters met at the square to call for an official inquiry into the lapses that facilitated the Oct. 7 attacks, something Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has fiercely resisted. The alleged failures of the day have become an issue ahead of Oct. 27 elections.
Rebecca Geller, who handled international communications for the Hostages and Missing Families Forum and spent much of the war alongside hostage families at the square, said she was glad the name was being formally preserved.
“Whatever the space will be in the future, it will be important to honour” what it meant during the war, she said. “It gave the families a place to come to feel the support of the community, to get out of the house and to be nourished through the worst times of their lives, body and soul.”
By July, Tel Aviv’s municipal naming committee had backed Huldai’s proposal to make “Hostages Square” the plaza’s official name, saying it had become a national symbol of solidarity and the campaign to return the captives. Until then, the site was officially known as the plaza outside the Tel Aviv Museum of Art despite “Hostages Square” becoming its universally recognized name.
“This was the site of a courageous and determined struggle led by families who did everything they could to bring their loved ones home,” Huldai said. “Tel Aviv-Yafo had the privilege of being their home, and together with residents of the city and people from across Israel, this square became a center of solidarity, mutual responsibility and an unwavering demand: bring them all home.”
“This square will remain a testament to the families, to their struggle and to the commitment never to give up on anyone. We will not allow this story to be forgotten.”
The square may now be permanent, but Google has yet to get the memo: as of Thursday, its Maps listing marked Hostages Square as “permanently closed.”
Geller said the square remains a difficult place to visit.
“I struggle to return there – even when I’m just going to the art museum – because it always brings up the emotion that was held there,” she said. “For me, it will always be Hostages Square.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post ‘History cannot be erased’: ‘Hostages Square’ in Tel Aviv is formalized in official name change appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
War and uncertainty drives Israelis seeking quiet abroad
(JTA) — When Iris Meiri-Snir moved from Israel to northern Italy last month, she gave up a job she loved, proximity to her children and grandchildren, and the social and professional ties she had built over a lifetime.
She and her husband, Hagai Agmon-Snir, left for their home in Mevaseret Zion, an explicitly ideological choice that places them among a growing number of Israelis building their lives elsewhere.
Meiri-Snir was vice principal at a leading Jerusalem high school, while Agmon-Snir, a neuroscientist, spent decades working on coexistence initiatives involving Palestinians, Haredim, LGBTQ Israelis and other communities. As the country pushed right-ward, they found themselves increasingly on the fringe.
“Leaving is our way of expressing our opposition,” he said, adding that he would encourage others who felt the same way to do likewise.
For years, the couple belonged to the optimistic camp that believed Israeli society could still return to the liberal values they upheld. By the time they decided to move to Arona, a town on Lake Maggiore in northern Italy, that conviction had disappeared. Despite their comfortable lives in Israel, they no longer felt they could justify staying.
They have been public about their journey out of their homeland, speaking with JTA and Israel’s Channel 11. “If I ignore all the political and social crap happening around me, what do I have to complain about here?” he told the Kan public broadcaster in an interview filmed before the couple left Israel. “We’ve got it pretty good.”
“But it’s no longer possible to be part of what’s happening here,” he added, arguing that a “fascist current” in Israel had moved into the mainstream.
The Snirs are not alone. A Tel Aviv University study showed that Israeli immigration has remained at record levels, with an estimated 40,000 and 50,000 citizens exiting for at least a year in each of the past three years, a record run of emigration that began amid the political upheaval of 2023. Itcontinued through the wars that followed the Oct. 7 Hamas-led attack that year.
The authors of the study said the current numbers do not yet pose a significant economic or security risk, but warned that could change if emigration continues to rise. They pointed to what they called a “dangerous” increase in the so-called brain drain, or the departure of highly educated, high-earning Israelis. A separate Israel Tax Authority study found that emigrants’ incomes before leaving were about 50% higher than the national average, with doctors and engineers disproportionately represented.
The movement, however, is not all in one direction. More than 22,500 new immigrants arrived in Israel in 2025, including about 8,500 from Western countries such as the United States, France, Britain and Canada. Overall aliyah fell by about a third, largely because of a steep decline in arrivals from Russia, but immigration from several Western countries rose: French aliyah more than tripled between 2023 and 2025, while North American immigration also increased.
For some of those newcomers, the same wars and upheaval that have helped drive Israelis abroad have instead strengthened their desire to live in Israel, where they seek solidarity with a people under siege. More than 2,300 North American Jews were planning to move to Israel this summer, about 15% more than in recent years, according to Nefesh B’Nefesh, which facilitates aliyah.
Across social media, dozens of groups cater to Israelis considering emigration, a move known as yerida — the inverse of aliyah — though native-born Israelis more commonly use the English loanword “relocation.” In one English-speaking Facebook group, members cited security fears, repeated wars, financial instability, the high cost of living and dissatisfaction with the education system.
For new arrivals to Israel some of the pressures are particular to life as an immigrant. People in the group described struggling with the language, the absence of family nearby and, particularly among Europeans, frustration with a welfare system they felt offered far less help than their native countries during illness, unemployment or other crises.
One woman posting said she had become disillusioned with the aliyah dream she felt had been sold to her by the Zionist Federation, but later softened that criticism, telling JTA in a private message that the organization had done “so much good” for her family and that she had written the post while angry about the war.
Ishai, originally from San Francisco and now exploring a move to Prague, said the cost of living and “endless and pointless wars” were part of why he wanted to leave. His disillusionment with Israel’s treatment of Palestinians began during his military service in the West Bank and intensified after Oct. 7. Like Agmon-Snir, he used the word “fascist” to describe what he sees taking hold in Israeli society. Most Israelis, he said, have “zero ambition for a better place in any meaningful way.”
“They either worship Bibi or think he’s the source of all the problems,” he said, referring to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu by his nickname.
With elections approaching, Ishai, who asked to be identified only by his first name because “this kind of talk could get me killed or at least fired,” said he saw little prospect of change at the ballot box.
“They all proclaim the exact same policies,” he said. Yair Golan, the former deputy IDF chief who leads the left-wing Democrats party, was the only major politician saying anything “even remotely towards peace,” Ishai said, though in his view Golan still advocated ruling Palestinians “with an iron fist.”
Anna Lukatsky, a Jaffa-based stylist and content creator, is moving to the Greek island of Paros for seven months after the High Holidays. The political climate played a role in the decision, she said, but was far from the determining factor, and she deliberately chooses not to dwell on it. “I have nothing to say politically beyond what has already been said.”
Oct. 7 did, however, reinforce a feeling that she should stop putting off the life she wanted. “There is never a good time to fulfill a dream. When things are good, it’s not a good time, and when things are bad, you can’t,” she said. “Anything can happen. Now is the time to live.”
She is going with her two daughters, 15 and 16, and their father — her longtime partner — whom she married only two weeks ago in an online Utah ceremony, mainly to help secure a European visa. Practical questions such as schooling and what comes next do not appear to trouble her much. Her daughters, both musicians, are not enrolled in school in Greece but will continue music lessons over Zoom. She seemed equally unfazed by what would happen to the belongings they leave behind.
“Who cares about a sofa or a plate when I’m moving to Paros?”
Beyond Paros, she has no fixed plans for what the family will do next — and where — only “plenty of dreams still to fulfill.”
While Israeli communities have formed in other Greek destinations such as Thessaloniki, Lukatsky said she was not seeking one out in Paros.
“I see myself by the sea in Greece, financially secure, writing my book, with time for my family,” she said.
Several weeks after moving to Arona, Meiri-Snir said life had become “very busy,” much of it socially. She and Agmon-Snir are part of a local circle of Israelis who meet regularly for dinners and other gatherings, while also spending time with a wider group of mostly European expats who meet each week for lunch. So far, she said, they have no regrets about the move.
Meiri-Snir described the reception from locals as uniformly warm, and said the couple were already recognized at local establishments.
“We don’t hide that we’re from Israel,” she told JTA over WhatsApp. People sometimes greet them with “shalom” or tell them they hope things will be all right in Israel.
“We haven’t felt any antisemitism at all,” she said.
Meiri-Snir was careful not to generalize from their experience. “I’m not trying to erase other people’s experiences of antisemitism,” she said, adding that she expected the atmosphere could be different in larger cities such as Milan or Bologna.
“Here it’s an area of small towns and villages, and the atmosphere is different,” she said. “
People are mostly concerned with their own affairs, and the attitude toward us here has been very pleasant and positive. That might surprise Israelis.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post War and uncertainty drives Israelis seeking quiet abroad appeared first on The Forward.

