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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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Israel Reprimands Spain Over Blowing Up of Netanyahu Effigy
Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sanchez speaks during a press conference after attending a special summit of European Union leaders to discuss transatlantic relations, in Brussels, Belgium, Jan. 23, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Yves Herman
Israel said on Saturday it had reprimanded Spain‘s most senior diplomat in Tel Aviv over the blowing up of a giant effigy of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in a Spanish town this week.
The seven-meter (23-foot) figure was packed with 14 kilograms (31 lbs.) of gunpowder in El Burgo, a small town near the southern city of Malaga, in a decades-old ceremony on April 5, its Mayor Maria Dolores Narvaez told local television.
“The appalling antisemitic hatred on display here is a direct result of Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sanchez’s government’s systemic incitement,” Israel‘s Foreign Ministry said in a statement on X which highlighted a video clip.
Reuters was not immediately able to verify the video.
“The Spanish government is committed to fighting against antisemitism and any form of hate or discrimination. As such we totally reject any insidious allegation which suggests the contrary,” a Spanish Foreign Ministry source said in response.
El Burgo’s Mayor Narvaez said the town has previously used effigies of US President Donald Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin during the annual event.
Spain has been an outspoken critic of the US and Israeli military campaigns in Iran and Lebanon, despite US threats to punish uncooperative NATO allies.
Spain and Israel have been embroiled in a long-running diplomatic row which began over the Gaza war. Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar said a Spanish ban on aircraft and ships carrying weapons to Israel from its ports or airspace due to Israel‘s military offensive was antisemitic.
Spanish Foreign Minister Jose Manuel Albares accused Israel of violating international law and the two-week ceasefire after a massive wave of airstrikes across Lebanon this week. Netanyahu said on Wednesday that Lebanon was not part of the ceasefire and Israel‘s military was continuing to strike Hezbollah with force.
Sanchez, who has emerged as a leading opponent of the Iran war, has closed Spanish airspace to any aircraft involved in a confrontation he has described as reckless and illegal.
Iran has repeatedly praised Spain in recent weeks for its hostile posture toward the US and Israel.
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Why Vanderbilt Is Getting Jewish Life Right and Others Aren’t
This spring, at Vanderbilt University, more than 600 students gathered for a Passover seder – not in a campus center or dining hall, but on the football field at FirstBank Stadium. A space built for spectacle, rivalry, and school pride was transformed, for one evening, into something sacred.
The symbolism matters. So does the scale. And so does the timing of it all.
One week before the seder, Bloomberg reported that Vanderbilt’s regular-decision acceptance rate for the Class of 2030 had dropped to 2.9 percent – lower than Harvard, lower than Princeton, lower than schools that have spent a century cultivating their selectivity mystique. The headline named the obvious: Vanderbilt has become more competitive “as it avoids the campus controversies that have engulfed many top schools.” Tucked inside that dry admissions sentence is one of the most important stories in American higher education. Jewish families already understand what the data are now beginning to confirm. The market for talented students has spoken – and it is now speaking loudly in Nashville.
This is not just an admissions story. It is a case study in how institutional trust is built – and lost. When universities fail to enforce their own norms or articulate clear moral boundaries, they do not simply generate bad headlines. They trigger exit. Students and families, especially those with the most options, respond not to rhetoric but to signals: Who is in charge? What is tolerated? What kind of community am I entering?
In that sense, what is happening at Vanderbilt is not accidental. It is the result of institutional choices the market is now rewarding.
For generations, ambitious Jewish parents knew the college roadmap by heart: Harvard, Columbia, Penn, Yale – the great northeastern institutions that once excluded Jews with official quotas, then welcomed them, and then watched as Jewish students helped build them into world-class research universities. These schools were more than prestigious. They were symbols of arrival, of the great American bargain: work hard, achieve, belong. They were, in a very real sense, home.
That roadmap is breaking down. And Jewish families are not waiting for institutions to fix themselves.
The Atlantic has documented the shift: Jewish students leaving elite northeastern campuses and heading south – to Vanderbilt, Tulane, Emory, and the University of Florida. The numbers are striking. Vanderbilt now enrolls more than 1,000 Jewish students, roughly 15 percent of undergraduates. Clemson’s Hillel has quadrupled in size. The University of Florida has seen a 50 percent surge in Jewish student participation since 2021, its 6,500 Jewish undergraduates making it one of the largest Jewish student populations in the country. Tulane’s Jewish population is now over 30 percent of undergraduates — one of the highest concentrations anywhere. By Hillel estimates, Southern Methodist University now has more Jewish undergraduates than Harvard.
At the other end of the pipeline, the institutions these families are leaving are telling a different story. Hillel International reports that Jewish enrollment at Harvard, Columbia, Penn, and Cornell has declined in recent years. At Ramaz, the storied Modern Orthodox high school on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, a class that would typically send a dozen or more students to Columbia sent none. Not one. For the first time in living memory. For families who have sent children to Columbia for three generations, that is not a data point. It is a rupture.
These are not random fluctuations. They are directional. They are decisions – deliberate, painful, sometimes grieving decisions – made in thousands of kitchens and synagogues and college counseling offices across the Jewish community. Together, they add up to a verdict.
Before this trend had a name, the argument for heading south was cultural rather than existential. Research had already documented the ideological homogeneity of university administrators at elite institutions and the cultural consequences that follow when institutions lose internal diversity of thought. Southern campuses were maintaining a measure of pluralism and civic openness that had largely vanished from their prestigious northern counterparts. Go where you can actually think out loud. Go where being visibly Jewish does not require a daily calculation of social cost. Go where you can thrive.
After October 7, 2023, that argument became urgent in ways I had not fully anticipated.
A 2024 Hillel survey found that 87 percent of Jewish parents said rising antisemitism was affecting their child’s college selection – not just their anxiety about it, but the actual list of schools their children would consider. FIRE’s free-expression data told the same story from inside the campus: before October 7, 13 percent of Jewish Ivy League students reported self-censoring multiple times a week; after October 7, that number spiked to 35 percent. Even after tensions eased, it settled at 19 percent – well above historical norms, and a number that should haunt every administrator who claims to care about free expression.
A campus in which students systematically self-censor is not merely uncomfortable. It is, by definition, failing in its educational mission.
The message was unmistakable: elite campuses had become environments in which Jewish students systematically adjusted how they spoke, dressed, and moved through public space. For many families, that was not a policy problem to be addressed. It was a dealbreaker.
What we are witnessing is a form of institutional sorting. Universities that maintain basic conditions of pluralism, enforce rules consistently, and create space for visible identity formation are attracting students who want to live and learn in those environments. Universities that substitute process for judgment, or ambiguity for leadership, are experiencing a quieter but no less consequential form of decline.
This is how markets work in higher education. Not instantly, and not perfectly – but over time, unmistakably.
As Alexis de Tocqueville observed, institutions shape habits – and over time, those habits shape the institutions that endure.
What distinguishes the southern schools attracting Jewish students is not geography, and it is not the weather. It is governance.
Consider what happened at Vanderbilt in March 2024. When protesters occupied the chancellor’s office in a disruptive hours-long sit-in – assaulting a campus safety officer to gain entry and physically pushing staff members who offered to meet with them – Chancellor Daniel Diermeier did not convene a task force, issue a hedged statement, or wait for the news cycle to move on. He acted. Three students were expelled. One was suspended. More than twenty were placed on disciplinary probation. The university’s provost was explicit: sanctions reflected the “individual circumstances of each student’s conduct” – a signal that adults were in charge and that the rules applied to everyone.
The protestors called it oppressive. What it actually was is governance – something that, at many elite institutions, has become surprisingly rare.
Elsewhere, this kind of administrative clarity had become almost exotic. At campuses across the Northeast and the West Coast, encampments spread, Jewish students were harassed, and institutional responses ranged from equivocation to paralysis. The contrast with Nashville was not subtle. It was instructive. Vanderbilt enforced its own rules. It turned out that was not a small thing. It was, in fact, the decisive thing.
Students noticed. Families noticed. And, as the admissions data now confirm, they responded. A school where the administration means what it says – where Jewish students can attend Shabbat dinners without political calculation, wear a kippah without mapping potential confrontations, speak openly about Israel without pre-gaming the social cost – is a school where talented, ambitious students of all backgrounds want to spend four years.
This is not aspirational. It is the market working.
And yet the football field seder captures something that the governance story alone cannot.
Jewish families are not only fleeing hostility. They are seeking something positive: campuses where Jewish identity is not peripheral, not controversial, not something to be managed or contained, but woven into the shared fabric of student life. Six hundred students on a football field is not just a religious event. It is what sociologists would recognize as successful institutional integration: a minority identity fully visible within, rather than in tension with, the broader community. It is a demonstration of institutional confidence: the university’s statement that Jewish tradition belongs here, at the center, not at the margins. Students feel that distinction immediately.
One student at the seder put it simply: “I belong to Vanderbilt and I love being Jewish.” Chabad.org described the event as part of a broader national trend of seders held in sports arenas to accommodate “massive crowds of proud and confident Jews.”
That sentence contains an entire theory of what Jewish campus life could look like – and a quiet indictment of what it too often does look like at schools that still trade on reputation while failing the students who trusted them. It is not the sentence most Jewish students at elite northeastern universities are saying right now. It should be the standard by which every campus community measures itself.
None of this means Vanderbilt is perfect, or that every Jewish student should make the same choice. The point is not to replace one prestige default with another. It is to end the reflex that conflates rankings with belonging – and to recognize that Jewish families have far more agency than the prestige reflex would have them believe.
Vanderbilt now ranks alongside – and in some respects above – the Ivy League institutions that have treated governance as optional and campus culture as someone else’s problem. Its students are just as accomplished. Its faculty just as distinguished. Its outcomes just as strong. The prestige gap that once justified defaulting to a narrow set of northeastern schools has closed – and in some cases, it has reversed.
That is the real story behind the 2.9 percent acceptance rate.
Prestige without belonging is not excellence. It is inertia. And inertia, in higher education as in any other sector, is eventually punished.
The signal has been sent. The only question is who is still willing to ignore it.
Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute
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Syria Says It Foiled Hezbollah Plot to Kill Rabbi as Terror Group Faces Intensifying Israeli Strikes in Lebanon
Rescuers work at the site of an Israeli strike in Beirut, Lebanon, April 8, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Mohamed Azakir
The Syrian government has announced that security forces foiled a suspected assassination plot against a rabbi in Damascus, dismantling a five-member terrorist cell allegedly linked to the Iran-backed Lebanese group Hezbollah in a targeted security operation.
According to the Syrian Interior Ministry, authorities identified a woman suspected of attempting to plant an explosive device outside the residence of Rabbi Michael Khoury near the Mariamite Church in the Bab Touma district of the Damascus Old City.
Shortly after security forces managed to safely neutralize the explosive device without causing any damage, they arrested five suspects alleged to have links to the Iran-backed terrorist group Hezbollah and believed to have received military training abroad, including bomb-making and placement techniques, local media reported.
Syrian officials have repeatedly disrupted alleged Hezbollah-linked terrorist plots. Last February, investigations uncovered new details about a cell behind attacks targeting the Mezzeh district and its military airport in Damascus, with early findings indicating ties to foreign entities and identifying the weapons used as originating from Hezbollah.
During the initial investigations, the detained suspects reportedly disclosed links to external parties, with findings indicating that the missiles and launch systems used in the attacks, along with drones seized during the operation, were supplied by Hezbollah.
The suspects also reportedly confessed to preparing to carry out new attacks using drones, before security services thwarted the plan.
Hezbollah denied the claims, calling them “false and fabricated allegations.” The terrorist group added that it had “no presence on Syrian territory” and “no activity, connection, or relationship with any party in Syria.”
Hezbollah had close relations with the regime of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad, who was ousted in late 2024 by rebel forces and replaced by the current government.
The Syrian government’s efforts to thwart Lebanon-based Hezbollah came after multiple Gulf countries said last month they dismantled terrorist networks linked to the terrorist group.
Meanwhile, Israel has been waging a military campaign against Hezbollah in neighboring southern Lebanon amid the joint US-Israeli war against Iran. While the campaign against Iran did not initially target Hezbollah, the terrorist group quickly joined the conflict in early March by launching rockets against the Jewish state in support of the Iranian regime, leading to ongoing and escalating Israeli retaliation.
As regional tensions continue to rise, direct talks between Israel and Lebanon are set to begin in the United States on Tuesday, marking the first such engagement in 43 years.
With the United States acting as mediator, Israel’s ambassador to Washington, Yechiel Leiter, and Lebanon’s ambassador, Nada Hamada Meoud, are expected to discuss de-escalation along the northern border and mechanisms for a stable ceasefire. Hezbollah is not officially participating in the talks.
According to a statement from the Prime Minister’s Office, the negotiations aim to advance Hezbollah’s disarmament and lay the groundwork for peaceful relations between the two countries.
For its part, Lebanon is demanding that Israel halt both aerial and ground operations and withdraw its forces from southern territory, while also seeking international assistance for reconstruction, particularly in the country’s south.
However, it remains unclear how far the Lebanese government can move against Hezbollah without risking escalation into civil conflict, especially as Israel has signaled it will not withdraw its forces until the group’s threat is eliminated. Beirut has so far failed to dismantle Hezbollah’s arsenal.
Meanwhile, Israel has made clear that the negotiations will proceed under fire, with the Israel Defense Forces continuing strikes in southern Lebanon.
Last week, the IDF confirmed that more than 250 Hezbollah terrorists and commanders were eliminated in what it described as its largest strike in Lebanon, including dozens in Beirut, as part of its ongoing military campaign against the terrorist group.
The IDF said the attacks amounted to a precise and extensive strike on Hezbollah’s command and control systems.
“The elimination of the commanders resulted in a strategic and broad-based damage that affected all dimensions of the organization’s capabilities,” a senior military intelligence official told Israel’s Channel 12.
“These are commanders with rich experience and knowledge that have been cut off. We have not yet finished assessing the impact of the blow and we are discovering additional eliminated terrorists every day,” he continued.

