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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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When New York and Public Institutions Decide Which Hate Matters
A man walks a subway platform in New York City, United States, on Oct/ 25, 2022. Photo: Jakub Porzycki/NurPhoto via Reuters Connect
New York City is home to the largest Jewish population outside of Israel. For generations, Jews here have built schools, businesses, synagogues, and civic institutions with the assumption that this city, whatever its flaws, understands the cost of antisemitism.
That assumption feels less stable today.
The NYPD’s numbers are unambiguous. Jews remain the most targeted group in reported hate crimes in New York City. The volume is not symbolic. It is disproportionate and sustained. Yet beyond the statistics, there is a quieter shift taking place inside schools and workplaces. Antisemitism is not always denied. It is deprioritized.
I saw this pattern unfold inside my son’s school over the past two academic years.
On the night of October 7, 2023, as Israelis were still counting their dead after 1,200 people were murdered and more than 200 were kidnapped by Hamas, the school principal sent a message to families. The email expressed sorrow over the situation in Gaza. It did not mention the massacre in Israel. It did not acknowledge the Jewish families in the community who were grieving in real time.
That omission was not technical. It was moral. At a moment when Jews across the world were processing the largest slaughter of Jews since the Holocaust, the institutional expression of sympathy pointed elsewhere.
Throughout that same school year, a music teacher regularly wore a keffiyeh in class. In isolation, one could argue that clothing is personal expression. But context matters. This was happening in the immediate aftermath of October 7, when Jewish students were experiencing rising hostility across the city. During curriculum nights, parents had been told that students would learn songs connected to Jewish holidays as part of the music program. Those commitments were not fulfilled. Jewish content quietly disappeared while visible political symbolism remained present.
Concerns were raised. The response was to remain calm and avoid escalation.
Later that year, a fifth-grade student arrived at school with a swastika drawn on his arm. That symbol of genocide was present inside a New York City classroom. The matter was handled privately. There was no schoolwide reaffirmation of values, no public condemnation of the symbol, no communication to families explaining what had occurred and how it would be addressed. It was resolved behind closed doors.
Then came another incident. My son returned home disturbed by a flag displayed in class that closely resembled a Nazi symbol. I sent an urgent email requesting clarification. The following day, I was told it was an ancient Indian symbol. That explanation may have been historically accurate. But the issue was not intent. The issue was impact.
In a school community that includes descendants of Holocaust survivors, imagery resembling a swastika carries emotional weight. Children react before they research. I asked that the school address the matter openly and provide context to students so that confusion and hurt would not linger. The image was removed. There was no broader communication.
Weeks later, a racist remark targeting another minority group during a public meeting triggered an immediate and forceful response from leadership. Families received a strong statement. The language was clear. The commitment to accountability was public.
That response was appropriate. Racism demands clarity.
The contrast between responses is the issue.
When swastikas are handled quietly, when Jewish curriculum promises fade, when the murder of 1,200 Israelis is omitted from expressions of institutional sympathy, and when Jewish concerns receive polite acknowledgment without operational follow-through, a message accumulates. Antisemitism becomes something to manage discreetly rather than confront directly.
This pattern is not isolated to one school. Across New York, Jews who speak openly in support of Israel report professional and social consequences. Anti-Zionist rhetoric has become normalized in many institutional spaces. The distinction between anti-Zionism and antisemitism is often presented as clean and obvious. In practice, it rarely is.
When Jewish students see authority figures signaling affiliation with movements that openly question the legitimacy of the Jewish state, while Jewish identity is treated as politically sensitive or secondary, the environment shifts. Jewish belonging becomes conditional.
I say this not as an activist seeking attention, but as someone whose professional life is rooted in safety and resilience. I am the founder of Krav Maga Experts in New York City. I work daily with civilians, executives, and families on preparedness, threat awareness, and responsible self-defense. Over the past year, I have heard the same concern repeatedly: Jews feel that institutional standards are uneven.
Some advise restraint. They argue that raising Jewish concerns risks appearing divisive. They note the historical suffering of other communities and suggest that Jewish worries should be measured against broader narratives of oppression.
Equal standards do not require comparison. They require consistency.
If a racist act demands public condemnation in one instance, it demands the same in every instance. If a symbol that evokes trauma for one group requires explanation and restorative action, the same principle applies universally. Institutional credibility depends on even enforcement of values.
Antisemitism rarely announces itself with clarity. It adapts. It embeds itself in prevailing political language. It thrives in environments where moral hesitation replaces moral steadiness.
The solution is not complicated. Schools and workplaces should explicitly include antisemitism in their bias and inclusion frameworks. Crisis communications should acknowledge Jewish trauma when it occurs. Symbols with genocidal associations should be addressed transparently. Curriculum commitments should be honored without selective erosion.
New York’s Jewish community does not require special treatment. It requires principled treatment. Safety is not built on selective outrage. It is built on consistent standards applied without fear or favor.
The city that holds the largest Jewish population outside Israel should lead in moral clarity. That clarity begins with a simple rule: hate is hate, regardless of who it targets. When institutions decide which hate merits urgency and which can be handled quietly, they weaken the trust that holds diverse communities together.
Consistency is not a political position. It is a test of integrity.
Tsahi Shemesh is an Israeli-American IDF veteran and the founder of Krav Maga Experts in NYC. A father and educator, he writes about Jewish identity, resilience, moral courage, and the ethics of strength in a time of rising antisemitism.
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US Pulling Non-Essential Staff From Embassy in Beirut Amid Iran Tensions
A general view of a US State Department sign outside the US State Department building in Washington, DC, US, July 11, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Annabelle Gordon
The State Department is pulling out non–essential government personnel and their eligible family members from the US embassy in Beirut, a senior State Department official said on Monday, amid growing concerns about the risk of a military conflict with Iran.
“We continuously assess the security environment, and based on our latest review, we determined it prudent to reduce our footprint to essential personnel,” said a senior State Department official, speaking on condition of anonymity.
“The Embassy remains operational with core staff in place. This is a temporary measure intended to ensure the safety of our personnel while maintaining our ability to operate and assist US citizens,” the official said.
A source at the US embassy said 50 people had been evacuated, while an official at Beirut airport said 32 embassy staff, along with family members, had flown out of Beirut airport on Monday.
The US has built up one of its biggest military deployments in the Middle East, with President Donald Trump warning on Thursday that “really bad things will happen” if no deal is reached to solve a longstanding dispute over Tehran’s nuclear program. Iran has threatened to strike American bases in the region if it is attacked.
“Should employees occupying emergency positions wish to depart post, please review alternative arrangements to fill the emergency position and consult with your regional bureau Executive Office as necessary,” said an internal State Department cable on the pullout, which was seen by Reuters.
The State Department on Monday updated its travel advisory for Lebanon, repeating its warning that US citizens should not travel to the country. Remaining embassy personnel are restricted from personal travel without advance permission and additional travel restrictions may be imposed “with little to no notice due to increased security issues or threats,” the advisory said.
American interests were repeatedly targeted in Lebanon in the 1980s during the 1975-90 civil war, during which the US held the Iran-backed Hezbollah responsible for attacks including the 1983 suicide bombing against the US Marines headquarters in Beirut, which killed 241 servicemen, and a 1983 suicide attack on the US embassy in Beirut that killed 49 embassy staff.
TALKS ON THURSDAY, DIVISIONS REMAIN
Meanwhile, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who is scheduled to travel to Israel on Saturday and meet with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, was still planning to do that, but “the schedule remains subject to change,” the US official said.
The United States wants Iran to give up its nuclear program, but Iran has adamantly refused and denied it is trying to develop an atomic weapon. Washington views enrichment inside Iran as a potential pathway to nuclear weapons.
Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araqchi said on Sunday that he expects to meet with Trump’s special envoy Steve Witkoff in Geneva on Thursday, adding that there was still “a good chance” of a diplomatic solution.
Both sides remain sharply divided – even over the scope and sequencing of relief from crippling US sanctions – following two rounds of talks, a senior Iranian official told Reuters.
Citing officials on both sides and diplomats across the Gulf and Europe, Reuters reported on Friday that Tehran and Washington are sliding rapidly toward military conflict as hopes fade for a diplomatic settlement.
On Sunday, Witkoff said the president was curious as to why Iran has not yet “capitulated” and agreed to curb its nuclear program.
It would be the second time the US and Israel have attacked Iran in less than a year, following US and Israeli airstrikes against military and nuclear facilities last June.
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Iranian Students Protest for Third Day as US Pressure Mounts
Protesters chant, ‘We’ll fight, we’ll die, we’ll reclaim Iran,’ at Al-Zahra University in Tehran, as they mark the 42nd day of mourning for those killed by the Iranian regime in recent anti-government protests. Photo: Screenshot taken Feb. 23, 2026, from social media video via Reuters Connect
Iranian students defied authorities with protests for a third day on Monday, weeks after security forces crushed mass unrest with thousands killed and as the United States weighs possible air strikes against the Islamic Republic.
State media outlets reported students chanting anti-government slogans at Tehran University, burning flags at the all-women al-Zahra University, and scuffles at Amir Kabir University, all located in the capital.
Reuters also verified video showing students at al-Zahra University chanting slogans including “we’ll reclaim Iran,” but was not able to confirm when it was recorded.
In a new sign of the mounting tension in the Middle East, the United States began pulling non-essential personnel and family members from the embassy in Beirut, a senior State Department official said.
US President Donald Trump has repeatedly threatened Iran since major nationwide protests across the country in January, saying on Thursday that “really bad things will happen” if talks between the countries fail to produce a deal.
Washington wants Iran to give up much of its nuclear program, which it believes is aimed at building a bomb, limit the range of its missiles to short distances, and stop supporting terrorist groups it backs in the Middle East.
It has built up forces across the Middle East, putting increased pressure on Iran as it weighs its response to US demands amid ongoing talks.
Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei already faces the gravest crisis of his 36-year tenure, with an economy struggling under the weight of international sanctions and growing unrest that broke out into major protests in January.
On Sunday Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian said negotiations with the US had “yielded encouraging signals” even as a second US aircraft carrier headed towards the Middle East.
Trump has not laid out in detail his thinking on any possible Iran strike. A senior White House official told Reuters last week there was still no “unified support” within the administration to go ahead with an attack.