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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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A war-weary Jerusalem marks Purim one day after the rest of the world, a tradition born in what is now Iran
(JTA) — JERUSALEM — As the sun rose over Jerusalem on Wednesday morning, sirens rang out, signaling yet another incoming missile attack from Iran.
This time, it coincided with the morning of Shushan Purim, as thousands of Israelis gathered — despite a prohibition on public gatherings — to read the Megillah and fulfill the mitzvah of hosting a reading after sunrise on the day of Purim.
Purim in Jerusalem, known as Shushan Purim, takes place a day later than in the rest of the world due to its status as a walled city during the time of the holiday’s story, when the Jews in Shushan, also a walled city located in what is now Susa, Iran, fought for their survival a day longer than Jews elsewhere in the kingdom.
Emergency regulations imposed by Home Front Command ban large gatherings, even in shelters, but Israelis have eschewed the restrictions to continue their celebrations. Top rabbis in Israel encouraged Israelis to follow government guidelines but opined that Zoom readings do not fulfill the requirement under Jewish law to hear the Megillah read in a prayer quorum. On Tuesday, Israelis across the country celebrated Purim in bomb shelters and underground parking garages, many of which are rated to withstand bombs dropped from above.
Just a few hours after the air raid alert ended on Wednesday, Jerusalemites could be seen wandering the streets, some intoxicated and others wearing costumes — or both — to celebrate the public holiday.
Two yeshiva students from New Jersey said, while waiting to catch a light rail train into the city, that they “were not worried at all about the missiles. We check our phones and go to the shelter.”
In the haredi neighborhood of Mea Shearim, life continued largely as normal. Children wandered the streets wearing costumes, and families walked into synagogues for Shacharit services, with prayers echoing through the streets.
In more secular neighborhoods, friends gathered to drink and celebrate the holiday, with some describing a “waiting game” to get their drinking in before another missile is launched and they have to head back to the shelter.
An ultra-Orthodox man celebrates in the streets of Mea Shearim, holding wine in one hand and showing a thumbs up with the other. The official commandment from the Torah is to drink until one cannot tell the difference between “cursed is Haman” and “blessed is Mordecai.”
Amber, Maya and Vicky kept their family shop open on Jaffa Street despite the threat of missiles. You Need Coffee has been open at its current location since 2011, and Maya described how “during the last war our business took a really big hit, and it’s something we expected this time, but the community keeps showing up.”
Vicky added, “They need their coffee, and we know our customers, so there’s a sense of we’re all in this together. Plus, we have a shelter in the basement, so it’s safer here than anywhere else.”
This is the second full-scale war with Iran in the last nine months, but all of the workers in the shop said they were willing yet again to deal with the consequences for the “freedom of the Iranian people.”
A family wearing matching costumes waits to catch the light rail into the Jerusalem city center. Public transportation in Israel is operating at limited capacity due to the war. The light rail had been closed since the war’s start but reopened on Wednesday.
A child who lives in Beit Yisrael, a haredi neighborhood in central Jerusalem, poses for a photo to show off his IDF soldier costume.
Children walk down the streets of Mea Shearim with their parents as they shop for goodies to celebrate the holiday. Pashkevils, or public announcements, cover the walls and communicate rabbinical rulings and other public information.
A Beit Yisrael family poses for a photo showing off their Purim costumes.
A man wearing a bunny costume walks in the streets of Mea Shearim, where not everyone was in costume for the holiday. Still, Yiddish techno music could be heard echoing off the brick walls of the neighborhood from the parties taking place there.
On Etz Hayim Street, just outside the Jerusalem shuk, a young Israeli poses to show off his costume — one half Israeli soldier, the other half sporting a suit.
One of the commandments for the Purim holiday is to give tzedakah, or charity to the poor — matanot la’evyonim — which requires giving to at least two people in need on the holiday. A young boy waits on the street, asking passersby for donations.
The post A war-weary Jerusalem marks Purim one day after the rest of the world, a tradition born in what is now Iran appeared first on The Forward.
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Faith heals the Deepest Wounds, Soothes the Greatest Woes
Across centuries, the Jewish people have experienced collective trauma, from the ancient exiles to modern-day tragedies. Despite these painful occurrences, Jewish tradition is a real treasure trove of healing through religious practices and teachings of the Torah. The Torah shows people how to process and move beyond suffering, and how the Bible can be a source of resilience and hope, even when all seems lost.
One of the greatest Jewish principles of practice is the practice of remembrance. The Torah calls the Jewish people to recall past suffering, not to dwell in sorrow, but in order to take the moment to derive lessons and strength from their adversity. This is reflected in such rituals as Passover, which celebrates the Exodus from Egypt and the liberation of the Jewish people from slavery. Likewise, Tisha B’Av is a day of remembrance for the destruction of the First and Second Temples. These rituals are not reminders of sorrow but tools necessary for transmitting the lessons of history to future generations. Through the practice of remembrance, Jewish communities are reminded time and again of the strength they have shown over the ages and the necessity to cultivate hope for the future.
Aside from the remembering process, the Torah also provides organized practices designed to assist an individual in coping with loss and suffering. The mourning practices, like Shiva, the seven-day mourning period, and Yahrzeit, the yearly observance of a loved one’s death, are a supportive mechanism whereby both the individual and society can cope with their loss. The practices are social in nature, reinforcing the idea that healing is as much an individual process as it is a social one. The social aspect of the practices creates solidarity and provides mutual support so that everyone mourns together.
Prayer and fasting are of profound significance in the Jewish healing environment. Yom Kippur and Tisha B’Av are such special days for soul-searching, repentance, and spiritual rebirth. On such days, the individual and collective seek forgiveness, atonement, and healing. These are spiritual exercises aimed at cleansing the soul and reconciling with God, an indication of the faith that, irrespective of the intensity of the agony, a path to spiritual healing always exists.
Community lies at the core of healing trauma within Jewish life. At the center of healing is the idea of Klal Yisrael—the Jewish peoplehood. In times of adversity, Jewish communities unite through acts of interdependence, prayer, and shared ritual. The communal care creates a basis of resilience, reminding individuals that they are not isolated in their suffering. In fact, the community’s strength can become a healing force, repairing the damage of trauma.
Chaya Lerner’s book, Torah of Trauma, explores the spiritual and psychological aspects of healing in the Torah. In her book, Chaya addresses how scriptural lessons can guide individuals and communities through healing from trauma and transforming it into what makes them stronger. Chaya utilizes ancient Jewish sources and modern therapy methods to explain that the Torah offers healing tools. Chaya’s work emphasizes that healing from trauma is not merely an understanding of the past but also the transformation of that understanding into a path forward. The book explores how Jewish heritage offers hope, healing, and a way to heal the spirit after suffering.
In an age where trauma manifests in so many different disguises, affecting so many individuals and communities, the Jewish approach to healing with the Torah is a sage one. Chaya Lerner’s Torah of Trauma is a guide for those willing to discover how scripture can heal emotional and spiritual hurts. By immersion in the Torah, remembering past struggles, and participating in communal rituals, the Jewish faith traces a path to resilience, hope, and spiritual rebirth. Through these sacred rituals, individuals and communities can transform their pain into power, emerging from trauma not just as a whole but more resilient than ever before.
Essentially, Jewish heritage teaches the realization that collective trauma does not characterize the people, but rather completes them. By accepting the teachings of the Torah, individuals and communities can heal, not only for themselves, but for society as a whole as well. The teachings given within the Torah are an eternal reminder of redemption, a reminder that there is always space for renewal and development, even in the darkest of sufferings.
The post Faith heals the Deepest Wounds, Soothes the Greatest Woes appeared first on The Forward.
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Poland returns 91 Jewish objects to Greece, decades after they were stolen by the Nazis
(JTA) — A trove of sacred Jewish objects from Greece that was stolen by the Nazis and displaced for decades in Poland is finally heading back home.
Poland returned 91 religious and ceremonial artifacts to the Greek government at a ceremony in Warsaw on Wednesday. Among them were Torah scrolls, a Torah mantle and silver finials that adorned a scroll’s wooden rollers — fragments of a rich Greek Jewish heritage that was nearly wiped out.
This marks the first time Poland has repatriated cultural property held under its care that was illegally taken from another country.
The Nazis stole the objects from synagogues in Thessaloniki, a port city once known as the “Jerusalem of the Balkans.” Jews made up half of Thessaloniki’s residents in 1919. Some 59,000 Greek Jews, over 83% of the country’s Jewish population, were killed in the Holocaust.
These items were seized by the Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg, a Nazi agency dedicated to looting Jewish valuables, as it plundered homes, synagogues, cemeteries and cultural institutions across Greece in 1941. The objects were transferred to Nazi depots in southwestern Poland and rediscovered at a castle in Bożków after the war. In 1951, the Polish Ministry of Culture moved them to the Jewish Historical Institute in Warsaw, where they remained until now.
This return follows years of advocacy and provenance research. The Greek government formally requested the collection’s restitution in 2024, and the World Jewish Restitution Organization coordinated with Greek and Polish authorities to facilitate it. Now, the objects are headed to the Jewish Museum of Greece in Athens.
About 5,000 Jews live in Greece today.
Poland is the only member of the European Union with no comprehensive legislation to address the restitution of property seized by the Nazis and later nationalized by the communist regime. Since the country became a democracy in 1989, several bills have been proposed to return private property to Holocaust survivors and their descendants, but none became law.
In 2021, Poland passed a law that prevented people who sought to claim property from challenging administrative decisions more than 30 years old. This time limit made it virtually impossible for former owners, including Holocaust survivors and their descendants, to recover properties that were appropriated during the communist era.
In a statement, WRJO president Gideon Taylor and COO Mark Weitzman said the return of the Greek Jewish collection represented a milestone in international cooperation for Holocaust-era restitution.
“While Poland has broader restitution issues to address, we hope this historic act marks the beginning of a consistent, systematic approach to historical justice,” they said.
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