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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 Gaza International Stabilization Force Can Be the IDF
A Red Cross vehicle, escorted by a van driven by a Hamas terrorist, moves in an area within the so-called “yellow line” to which Israeli troops withdrew under the ceasefire, as Hamas says it continues to search for the bodies of deceased hostages seized during the Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel, in Gaza City, Nov. 12, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Dawoud Abu Alk
On December 29, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu will meet with US President Donald Trump to weigh options for implementing Phase 2 of the Gaza ceasefire plan, which was endorsed by UN Security Council Resolution 2803.
The most urgent task in Phase 2 is addressed by the resolution at Section 7. The provision urges the many interested parties — called Member States — to organize an International Stabilization Force (ISF) that will disarm Hamas and demilitarize Gaza.
It won’t be easy. Most Member States are unwilling or reluctant to commit troops to the ISF. Others suggest the ISF should be a mere monitoring group similar to the UN peacekeepers in Lebanon. However, those “blue helmets” did nothing to disarm the Lebanese-based Hezbollah terrorist group, or to demilitarize its zone of operations.
The only fighting force with the demonstrated motivation and ability to execute the mandated mission of disarmament and demilitarization is the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF). The IDF nearly defeated Hamas in October, but stopped at Hamas’ last stronghold when the ceasefire deal was signed.
Section 7 does not mention whether the ISF may be composed of just a single state. The authors expected a multinational ISF, perhaps because they believed the involvement of a few Muslim states would act as a buffer against perceived IDF aggression. On the other hand, the text of Section 7 may be reasonably interpreted to permit a delegation of the ISF’s entire workload to the IDF.
To begin with, Section 7 requires the ISF to “use all necessary measures” to achieve the military objectives of Phase 2. Member States may comply with this clause by empowering the IDF to disarm Hamas and demilitarize Gaza. The wording does not require the use of force to be conducted by a minimum number of Member States.
Next, Section 7 compels the ISF to work “in close cooperation” with Egypt and Israel. Assembling the ISF from the ranks of Israel’s own army would help cement such cross-border cooperation.
The section also instructs the ISF to “train and support vetted Palestinian police forces.” No military unit is more fit for that function than the IDF, based on its decades of interactions with the Palestinian police.
A related operational factor supports the concept of an ISF staffed by IDF troops. The IDF maintains crucial contacts with anti-Hamas militias in Gaza. Those resistance fighters know the complex urban terrain, and they command respect among area civilians. Including them in the ISF mission would be a strong force multiplier.
In an IDF-as-ISF model, the funding mechanism of Section 7 would remain unchanged. Member states and other donors would simply direct their “voluntary contributions” to Israel instead of some other ISF incarnation. A Member State that refuses to contribute funding could be excluded from the multinational Board of Peace, which the UN resolution envisions as Gaza’s transitional government.
Section 7 states that when Gaza reaches the point of “control and stability,” the IDF must withdraw to a designated “security perimeter presence” in the enclave. Some may fear that awarding the ISF function to the IDF would incentivize Israel to occupy all of Gaza, and potentially extend sovereignty to the domain, with no admission of control or stability. However, Section 7 already stipulates that the withdrawal milestone must be determined jointly by a diverse group of decision-makers, including not only the IDF but the US, Egypt, Qatar, and Turkey.
Finally, giving the ISF role to the IDF would help ensure the Phase 2 goals are met “without delay,” as demanded by the resolution at Section 1. Hamas has already caused weeks of delay by dragging out the hostage return process required by the first phase of the ceasefire plan. The procrastination enabled Hamas to consolidate its power. For example, the terror group recruited more fighters, converted al-Nasser Hospital into a prison to torture dissidents, and wrangled more funding from its terrorist patron, Iran. Consequently, it will now take more time to disarm the group and demilitarize the enclave. Waiting even longer to attain the unrealistic dream of a multi-state ISF would cause even more delay. The setback would not only embolden Hamas but prolong the suffering of Gaza’s war-torn civilian population.
It’s likely that many UN member states would reject this plan, because it’s not what they believed they signed onto. But so far, none of them has put forth a better or more realistic alternative. Moderate states don’t want to send troops, and extremist states like Turkey (which supports Hamas) cannot be allowed to.
No amount of UN resolutions will help Gaza recover from the Hamas-initiated war until Hamas is defanged and its terrorist stronghold is demolished. That dirty work may not be popular, but it must be done. Otherwise, Hamas will continue to exploit Gaza as a launching pad for its ruinous attacks.
Joel M. Margolis is the Legal Commentator, American Association of Jewish Lawyers and Jurists, US Affiliate of the International Association of Jewish Lawyers and Jurists. His 2001 book, “The Israeli-Palestinian Legal War,” analyzed the major legal issues in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Previously he worked as a telecommunications lawyer in both the public and private sectors.
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A Gazan Warehouse of Baby Formula Exposes Hamas Was Withholding Food From Children
Throughout the summer of 2025, doctors in Gaza repeatedly warned that babies were going hungry due to a shortage of infant formula. These claims were amplified across global media and social platforms, often delivered in dramatic appeals for urgent international intervention. Over time, the narrative became one of the most prominent humanitarian storylines of the season.
The New York Times wrote that “Parents in Gaza Are Running Out of Ways to Feed Their Children,” and The Guardian urged action as babies were “at risk of death from lack of formula.”
Perhaps most widely known were the stories of malnourished children in Gaza whose gaunt images dominated front pages around the world. Families of these young children pleaded for international intervention, saying they had “no formula, no supplements, no vitamins” to feed their babies.
Although some of these children were later reported to have had pre-existing medical conditions that contributed to their malnourishment, much of the media continued to advance a narrative suggesting that Israel was deliberately targeting children by restricting adequate humanitarian aid to Gaza.
Israel, however, consistently maintained that there was a steady supply of infant formula entering Gaza. At the height of the media frenzy over alleged starvation, Israeli records showed that more than 1,400 tons of baby formula, including specialized formulations for infants with medical needs, had been delivered into the Strip.
So where was all the formula?
In Hamas-controlled warehouses.
This week, anti-Hamas activists exposed a storage facility operated by the Hamas-run Gaza Ministry of Health stocked with large quantities of baby formula and nutritional supplements intended for children — supplies that had never reached the families featured in international headlines.
This is the terror organization Israel has been fighting for the past two years, and precisely why its removal from power in Gaza remains a central condition of any lasting ceasefire.
Hamas’ campaign is not driven solely by hostility toward Israel, but by a calculated willingness to endanger its own civilians to advance its goal of dismantling the Jewish State. That strategy has included obstructing or diverting humanitarian aid when it suited its aims — even when the victims were children.
By placing Gazan lives in harm’s way and exploiting their suffering, Hamas weaponized heartbreaking images to sway global opinion against Israel. In the process, it manipulated media narratives while evading responsibility for the humanitarian consequences of its own actions. Tragically, it did so with considerable success.
The same outlets that aggressively promoted the claim that Israel was withholding aid and deliberately starving children by blocking access to infant formula have since gone conspicuously silent. A story that once dominated front pages around the world has virtually disappeared now that evidence has emerged showing that Israel was not the perpetrator.
Hamas manipulated the media — and it worked. By laundering terrorist propaganda through headlines, imagery, and selective outrage, then declining to correct the record once that narrative unraveled, major outlets exposed how vulnerable they are to manipulation when facts complicate preferred storylines.
Hamas has been the agitator all along, recklessly endangering both Palestinian and Israeli lives. It is time the media confront that reality and their role in falsely accusing Israel of starving innocent Palestinians.
The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.
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An Emerging Crisis: Fighting Antisemitism in the Mental Health Professions
The personal belongings of festival-goers are seen at the site of an attack on the Nova Festival by Hamas terrorists from Gaza, near Israel’s border with the Gaza Strip, in southern Israel, Oct. 12, 2023. Photo: REUTERS/Ronen Zvulun
In a mental health professional network, an article was posted about how Jews faced discrimination in the profession.
There were over 250 comments in less than 8 hours, mostly attacking Jews and/or Zionists.
In an announcement for a training session being led by one of us, there were over 500 explicitly antisemitic comments in an hour on Reddit.
An article published about the impact of antisemitism on the mental health of Jews in America received hundreds of political comments about the Israel-Hamas war, rather than any discussion of clinical implications
An Orthodox Jewish psychologist organized a series of speakers, and one invited professional demanded that all attendees sign a declaration condemning the current Israeli government.
And, at the annual meeting of the American Psychological Association (APA), professional listserv postings urged attendees to wear keffiyehs and read a “land and genocide statement” before their presentations. Some presentations included Hamas propaganda.
These examples are not indicative of legitimate academic rhetoric — they are evidence of the field’s growing animus towards Jews.
Two factors help explain how mental health professionals feel comfortable discriminating against Jewish colleagues.
The first is the rapid embrace of a widely endorsed but empirically unsupported treatment model, decolonial therapy (DT). DT emphasizes the role of historical oppression on the development and perpetuation of intergenerational trauma. It explicitly blends clinical work with activism, urging clinicians and clients to engage politically in and out of therapy.
The activism in DT frames Zionism as oppression and psychopathology. For example, one of the leading proponents of DT has tied Zionism to genocidal intent, misogynoir, and fascism. Another prominent figure has referred to Zionism as psychosis and defended the murder of two Israeli Embassy employees in May.
Instead of condemnation from members of the profession, these practitioners have been celebrated by the leaders of the DT movement, hold leadership positions, and receive speaking invitations.
Left-wing identitarianism has also led to the explosion of antisemitism in the mental health professions. Unlike the purity demands of white European identity that are the basis of right-wing identitarianism, left-wing identitarianism demands strict ideological purity. This includes framing Jews as oppressors and Zionism as a form of mental illness and oppression.
This framework justifies aggression against Jews while also valorizing violence and terrorism committed by Hamas. These patterns within the mental health field prompted a sitting Democratic congressman to condemn the APA. It was also the impetus for a complaint filed with the Department of Education’s Office of Civil Rights during the Biden administration against an anti-Zionist DT leader who characterized Zionism as psychosis.
Mental health professionals who are anti-Zionist, including Jewish members of the profession, are embraced as ethical scholars and professionals, damaging collegiality and harming the profession. But when a professional defends the right for Israel to exist, regardless of their view of the current Israeli government, they are met with condemnation and scorn.
Left-wing identitarianism in the mental health professions extends to the demand that practitioners accept DT. While DT lacks empirical support, it is presented as if it were settled psychological science, to be applied to all individuals from historically marginalized backgrounds, while identifying specific other groups deemed responsible for these intergenerational woes.
This guiding philosophy commits rhetorical, interpersonal, political, and in some cases physical violence against Jewish members of the profession. It contributes to traumatic invalidation, wherein a Jewish client’s grief or fear is mocked, minimized, or made contingent on denouncing aspects of their identity. It is associated with avoidance, hypervigilance, shame, and ruptured help-seeking. As clinicians, we would never tell a survivor, “You’re safe here — as long as you recant a core part of who you are.”
We must not say it to Jews either. Whatever one’s politics, professional codes are clear: avoid discrimination and harm, be accurate in teaching, and avoid false or deceptive statements
The new identitarianism poses a serious public health risk. Clients have been rejected by professionals simply for being Jewish or expressing distress over the war between Israel and Hamas.
This risk extends beyond Jewish clinicians and clients. Fusing treatment with politics creates a profound public health crisis, as more clients will receive care that is based on activism and invalid conceptualizations of mental illness. Given the influence mental health professionals have on the public, this movement actively contributes to the rise of left-wing antisemitism
This is not a plea to shield Israeli policy from critique, nor erase Palestinian trauma. Patients and trainees deserve freedom from ideological coercion and discrimination because of their Jewish and/or Zionist identity. Good care is rigorous and grounded: validate distress, explore meaning, and apply tested tools. Keep the hour centered on patient goals, not clinician activism. We can hold multiple truths: Palestinian suffering, Israeli suffering, diaspora Jewish fear — without coercing political statements from patients, trainees, or colleagues.
We recommend professional reforms at every level. Mental health associations must require continuing education (CE) providers to disclose when the content is advocacy versus evidence-based clinical training. Safeguards must be instituted for reporting discrimination based on Jewish/Zionist identity, with clear remedies.
Antisemitism literacy must be adopted at every level of professional education. Assessment of traumatic invalidation needs to be incorporated into intake procedures when identity-related stressors are evident. When teaching emerging and untested methods (such as DT), clear disclaimers about the available evidence must be made explicit. And regulatory bodies need reform to swiftly and transparently address claims of retaliation against trainees and colleagues for Jewish/Zionist identity, and enforce anti-discrimination policies.
Our field knows how to hold complexity. We can grieve for Palestinians and Israelis, critique policies, and still protect patients, trainees, and colleagues from ideological coercion. Jewish clinicians and clients deserve the same ethical care we promise everyone else. Let’s replace purity tests with professional standards, and return the therapy room to what it’s for: healing.
Dean McKay is a Professor of Psychology at Fordham University and Miri Bar-Halpern is a Lecturer at Harvard Medical School.

