Wine, Ritual, and the Eternal Struggle Between โBlessed Are Youโ and โWho Spilled the Wine on the Tablecloth?โ
If you’ve managed to raise children, pay a mortgage, and survive the cottage prices – you might as well start salsa dancing, learn tennis, or walk 20 minutes every day without dying.
A somewhat toxic post about Purim… all because of too little sleep and a lack of caffeine in my veins…
In the Middle East – a region where both the weather and temperament are not inclined to restraint – Ramadan has become, especially in recent decades, a political, media and sometimes particularly explosive arena.
You’re not hungry. You’re sad. Or bored. Or lonely. Or you just watched the news for more than 5 minutes. And yet somehow you’re standing in front of the fridge, staring at a bowl of hummus, and wondering why suddenly the tahini looks like a mom’s hug.
And thus will stand this one against this one the heirs of ancient Persia and the newly established Jewish state; no more tale of royal court and feasting, for if from the dust of might, knowledge and fear, no more a book sealed with feasting and joy, but an open chapter that is still being written.
If there’s anything history has already proven, it’s that we’re not the ones who need permission to continue to exist.
Islam is both a religion and a political-legal ideology. Not all Muslims are violent, not all Islam is violent – but at the textual and historical core of Islam there is a sovereign aspiration, not just a spiritual one.
Religion doesn’t disappear – it wanders.
It seeks out places where people still want to know why they get up in the morning.
Next time someone rolls their eyes and asks, โWhatโs the deal with not touching?โ, the honest answer is simple: itโs not fear of sex. Itโs a deep suspicion that really good things, without limits, tend to end badly.
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