Larchmont Temple Chevra Torah

Questioning faith in the parsha

Monthly Archives: October 2010

Chayei Sarah Overview

Parashah Overview  (Chayei Sarah, Genesis 23:1-25:18)

  • Abraham purchases the cave of Machpelah in order to bury his wife Sarah. (23:1-20)
  • Abraham sends his servant to find a bride for Isaac. (24:1-9)
  • Rebekah shows her kindness by offering to draw water for the servant’s camels at the well. (24:15-20)
  • The servant meets Rebekah’s family and then takes Rebekah to Isaac, who marries her. (24:23-67)
  • Abraham takes another wife, named Keturah. At the age of one hundred and seventy-five years, Abraham dies, and Isaac and Ishmael bury him in the cave of Machpelah. (25:1-11)
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Who Knows Kaddish by Binnie Kirshenbaum

First there is this business with the yarmulkes…

The rabbi wants my father, my brother, and my Uncle Alex to wear yarmulkes even though we are in a non-denominational funeral home, which is nothing like a synagogue. This funeral home is indeed a house, a white colonial set behind a circular driveway and maple trees. It’s a house which speaks in well-modulated tones of the affluent and the understated. It is the only funeral home in town not affiliated with an Episcopal or Presbyterian church.

Dara Horn: In the Image

Under the guise of a school project, Naomi had once “interviewed” Bill Landsmann, and he had given her all the stupid details of his life.  Born in Vienna, no brothers or sisters.  Left Vienna with his father for Amsterdam, then left Amsterdam for America.  His mother remained behind in a hospital and apparently died.  There was nothing in his story to thrill the American moviegoer, no tattooed numbers on anyone’s arm.  But the real story of Bill Landsmann’s life would have disappointed Naomi…more than she or anyone else could have imagined.  And that is why, instead, he showed people nothing but slides.

Orchards by Eppie Zore’a

Disappointed, I return to the country I was born in to live in a house surrounded by tangerine trees. The house is on a hill ringed by terraces and chicken houses, and underneath them heaps of chicken dung emit hot, redolent vapors.  Further down there are mustard flowers and a failed reservoir. This is the village you have never yet left; these are the terraces you and your friends jumped, riding bareback with your mares when you were twelve. This is where you passed your childhood in such friendship with the animals and their personalities were much more interesting to you than those of the adults. But none of this explains why I see such a glow around your face when you first come to my door. We are introduced.

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