Stories of Growth

Despite all of the pomp and fame, my relationship with G-d remains central in my own decision-making, as well as my interactions with others. I’ve had to turn down many lucrative business opportunities and decline important events because of my commitment to Shabbat and the holidays.

“Was I a Jew? Did I want to be one? Was I more of a wrestler, or more of a Jew? What’s good about being Jewish anyway?”

My childhood was a scrambled mix of Christmas trees and Chanukah menorahs, church visits and the occasional Jewish service.

The rabbi walked toward me with a smile, extended his hand warmly, and offered me my first Jewish greeting: ‘Shalom.’ I froze, completely overwhelmed.

All my life, I was made to feel different, and if I didn’t play by the rules then I wasn’t a “good,” serious Jew. Is that how I want my son and daughter to feel? Do I have what it takes to connect?

When a man finds himself visited by the same recurring dream, his normal schedule begins to fall apart. Robbed of sleep, with his life taken over by the dream, he embarks on a quest of self-discovery to find out why the dream matters so much to him.

Have you ever strolled on a college campus on a Saturday at eight in the morning? No one is around, no one is up. But I was—because I wasn’t going to get trapped into joining the minyan.

My father could not give me that basic confirmation that I am, that I matter. He passed away before he had enough time to do that for me. So I look for compensation.

One man’s search for his buried treasure.

Following high school graduation, I set off for Israel, Birkenstocks and Bob Marley t-shirt in tow. I found an apartment in the center of Jerusalem, and waited for something to happen.

Moses and Jean Valjean: the connection

I found myself questioning the one thing I had always depended on—my Jewish faith...

My father gave me a huge hug and kiss like only he could, and then we walked out to the parking lot. As he began driving, my father told me how proud he was of me for playing so well. What he said next taught me a life lesson that I have never forgotten . . .

“So, what then? We should sit back, do nothing . . . and watch him slowly kill himself?” “No. I’m just saying maybe there’s a better way to reach him . . .”

What did that mean, “discarding expectations”? Every situation results in some sort of outcome; positive or negative, we have to expect that something is going to happen. Besides, I was always taught that expectations can play a key role in life—expect good things, and they’ll happen for you; expect bad things, and they’ll definitely happen to you. How does someone approach life with no expectations at all?

My grandfather kissed my cheeks and said, "Morty, every morning when you wake up, I want you to look at the mirror and strike your heart three times. While you are striking your heart, recite, 'I was born a Jew; I was raised a Jew; and I will die a Jew.'"

Despite his age (late adolescence being a time of presumed invincibility) and his size (he was a big guy), my brother began to become fearful. Dusk was rapidly approaching...

It’s clear that this is the swearing-in ceremony concluding basic training for these boys. I was across the ocean when my own son received his beret and Bible; I can’t bring myself to leave now.

Our lives are like the reverse side of a great tapestry. From the back, it all looks random and chaotic: all we can see are the knots, the imperfections, some bumps, smears of color...

The year is the same, the days are the same, but the months are different. It is a time quite individual—created by G‑d especially for me . . .

It was the commercial that first attracted me. Then there were the bonus gifts, and by the time my free-trial period was up I'd forgotten that my credit card was being billed monthly...

In prison, you lose your identity. You can't be a thief when you aren't stealing; you can't be a drug dealer when you aren't dealing. You have no status in the underworld and no status in the real world

That his Shabbat prayer was a gift to last all my years, Grandfather could hardly have known. And in the very last moments before my carriage moved, he gave me still another, utterly precious gift...

Leon Friedman was a Holocaust survivor who wrestled with his memories, suffered depression, and what some would call "survivor's guilt." I saw him frequently for one problem or another; sometimes I thought he just wanted to talk...

Radical research was required. I could have been a bit more philanthropic, but I needed a visceral rite of passage, not to mention the brief catharsis destruction provides...

It was back to basics. Actually, it was back to much less than basics. It was back to virtually nothing...

I recently participated in a phone conference connecting 29 people from Israel, Ukraine, France, Alaska, Texas, New York and Solon, Ohio, all the children or children-in-law of a single woman -- my mother

"Daddy," I cried, gulping down the large lump that was forming in my throat. "We don't want your blessing tomorrow. We want it after the surgery, for many years to come!"

I'm driving down the mountain. The forest on either side of the Jerusalem Highway has an eerie, mystical aura. The words pop into my mind: Free Choice

The rabbi was speaking of women’s inherent spiritual superiority to men. My hand shot up. “Where are the men? Shouldn’t they also hear of our elevated status?”

The center is not our creation, but the circle is. The paradox today is this: one cannot create a circle without a firm center, yet the center is invisible until we create our circle

At a certain point we have lived long enough to see that every choice we made was made in ignorance.

The philosophical conclusion of quantum physics is that physical reality is determined by a human observer. Halachah (Torah law) requires me to check every corner of my home for pretzel crumbs. Corrective observation

I work 12 to 14 hours a day. I have even less time than money. My obligations to family, work, and community are greater than any time in my life. Yet I have never been more free

I simply had no more talk left in me. I had spent hours casting about for some suitable activity that could serve as a replacement for the speaking, but thus far, I had come up with nothing.

An earsplitting blast froze me in my place and the ground vibrated from an explosion. Terrified screams and a haze of smoke filled the air...

“I want to know why the women aren’t allowed to dance with the men.” My anger sounded to my own ears flat, bold, the way I wanted it . . .

"That was about the time of the beginning of the baal teshuvah movement," I said, remembering my arrival in Crown Heights in 1974. My guest bristled. "What do you mean, 'movement'?" he said. "I wasn’t part of any movement. I did this on my own."

Our interests included Jewish "things": JPS books, Chagall prints, and Jewish records. And that was enough for us. Until our visit to Warsaw

It was merely the expectation that I would see the Rebbe again. Or, to be more precise, that he would see me . . .

Family relations for a ba'al tshuvah is a tricky, and often painful affair

I was in the Garden of Eden, its bounty sorrounded me, and yet my simplest actions had no meaning

They were carrying branches and fruit. They wanted me to wave them in the air, to shake them in all directions. For G‑d. For world peace. For unity . . .

Flying back to Israel from New York, I sat next to an Israeli who didn’t hold religious Jews in high regard.

It was the kind of neighborhood where you don’'t just take a leisurely walk, even in the daytime. I was scared . . .

The other night one of my dearest friends was married. He had looked past his personal inhibitions, I had remained imprisoned by mine.

I glanced around; I had lost him already. I later discovered that he, too, was unfamiliar with the roads, but astonishingly that didn’t stop him. The gust of suspense left in his wake intrigued me...

Jacques Berger looked me up and down, noting my long ponytail, plaid flannel shirt and threadbare, faded blue jeans. He must have also noticed my ethnically distinct nose...

One part of our Sunday church service referred to “our brothers and sisters, the Jews.” I asked my Irish mother about Jews at one time, and she smiled and told me that the Jews were very special people with a special connection to G-d

No matter how much I talked the talk and walked the walk, my inner soul was crying. I married a non-Jewish man and had two sons. My soul cried out to me that they are Jewish!

As the beloved counselor of the oldest bunk of 14 teenagers, they quickly understood something was wrong with me. They probed hard and found out that, somewhat like E.T., I needed desperately to “phone home”—to connect with Shabbat...

We move forward, but the past returns at odd moments. There is so much hurt.

Professor Greene was involved in the NASA program to find life on Mars. No, the hot dog was not from Mars. But it was a mighty hot dog, nonetheless. Just not as mighty as Professor Greene.

“You’re going to sit home ALONE instead of driving to shul to be with other Jews at Shabbat services?!” my parents demanded.

At that point, my entire identity was wrapped up in what I did and not how I felt, and I had no strong point of view.

Declaring Chapter 11 for my family business was beyond humbling. I felt as if my life was crumbling.