While thousands celebrate Shabbat UK this weekend, many frum teenagers will be texting their friends on Saturday. "Half-Shabbos", as it's called, is widespread and reflects the reality of how many young observant Jews today balance keeping Shabbat with their constant need to stay in touch via social media.
Since the dawn of humanity mankind has gazed at the stars in wonder, contemplating our place in the cosmos. As the holiday season draws to a close and the dancing and celebration of Simchat Torah comes to an end, we recommence our routine Shabbat Torah reading with the story of Genesis.
Jules Benjamin, a close friend of my father, used to say, "Money doesn't buy you happiness, but I don't mind being miserable in comfort."
We live in interesting times. On the one hand, never in the history of the human race have our lives been physically easier and more comfortable, and on the other, never has emotional dysfunction been so prevalent.
As we head into 5775, it's hard to escape the jarring dissonance between the language of our Yomtov prayers and the news coverage of our daily lives. We pray to a God of love and compassion, who shows mercy to the generations of those who are faithful.
The story of Hannah, which we read as the haftarah on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, provides a much- needed moment of inspiration for us to begin a New Year. When we first meet Hannah, at the start of the Book of Samuel, she is a picture of desolation and defeat, due to her infertility.
Rosh Hashanah is almost upon us. 5774 has been a difficult year, riven by conflict and cacophonous with lies, half-truths and hostility. Like many others, the Jewish people are desperate to draw a line under the past and make a new start.
At the heart of the Rosh Hashanah service is a cry with no words. It isn't even a human cry, but the strangely evocative sound made by directing the breath through the hollowed-out horn of a ram. Scripture provides no reason for blowing the shofar on the New Year; it doesn't even name it as the instrument to be used on what it tersely describes as Yom Teruah, "a day of sounding the horn".
The year 1656 is usually remembered as the date of the readmission of Jews to England. But something else happened then, regarded by some as an infamous act that remains a lingering stain on European Jewry.
Amsterdam's Sephardi authorities pronounced a cherem, a ban of excommunication, on the rationalist philosopher Baruch Spinoza.