Tisha B'Av

Vida

"Old Jew", Hermann Struck (1911)

בְּמַחֲשַׁכִּ֥ים הוֹשִׁיבַ֖נִי כְּמֵתֵ֥י עוֹלָֽם

He has made me dwell in darkness, Like those long dead. 

Lamentations 3:6

David Hartman

"How to Ensure Jewish Continuity" (1991) 

"Recumbent Lion", Rembrandt (1660-64)

Shoah

"The Sin of Our Silence during the Holocaust", Rabbi Joseph B Soloveitchik 

Giora Feidman

"Sher"

Vida

Hummingbirds, photographed by Dr Theodore Ferguson, Trinidad

Yoram Hazony

Yoram Hazony vs. Bret Stephens - Debate at Princeton University (2019)

Akedah

"The Akeda: Abraham Bound and Unbound", Avivah Zornberg

Wieniawa

גַּם־בִּי֙ הִתְאַנַּ֣ף יְהוָ֔ה בִּגְלַלְכֶ֖ם לֵאמֹ֑ר גַּם־אַתָּ֖ה לֹא־תָבֹ֥א שָֽׁם

Because of you the LORD was incensed with me too, and He said: You shall not enter it either. 

Deuteronomy 1:37

 

Vel' d'Hiv

The Vel' d'Hiv Roundup (16-17 July 1942)

Itzhak Perlman

"I know I played every Note", Documentary (1978)

Vida

A Bateleur eagle perches in a cage at a wildlife park in Khartoum

Israel

Daniel Gordis on Beinart (JBS: "In the News")

Jack Kirby

Sir Moses Montefiore

Sir Moses Montefiore on an Israeli 10 Lira note (from 1973)

Jon D. Levenson

"Resurrection in the Hebrew Bible"

Closest ever images of the Sun reveal it is covered in miniature flares

Moisés

"Parshat Mishpatim", Avivah Zornberg (2016)

Vida

 A house sparrow flies to the ripe ears of a barley field, Essen, Germany

Resignation Letter

Dear A.G.,

It is with sadness that I write to tell you that I am resigning from The New York Times. 

I joined the paper with gratitude and optimism three years ago. I was hired with the goal of bringing in voices that would not otherwise appear in your pages: first-time writers, centrists, conservatives and others who would not naturally think of The Times as their home. The reason for this effort was clear: The paper’s failure to anticipate the outcome of the 2016 election meant that it didn’t have a firm grasp of the country it covers. Dean Baquet and others have admitted as much on various occasions. The priority in Opinion was to help redress that critical shortcoming.

I was honored to be part of that effort, led by James Bennet. I am proud of my work as a writer and as an editor. Among those I helped bring to our pages: the Venezuelan dissident Wuilly Arteaga; the Iranian chess champion Dorsa Derakhshani; and the Hong Kong Christian democrat Derek Lam. Also: Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Masih Alinejad, Zaina Arafat, Elna Baker, Rachael Denhollander, Matti Friedman, Nick Gillespie, Heather Heying, Randall Kennedy, Julius Krein, Monica Lewinsky, Glenn Loury, Jesse Singal, Ali Soufan, Chloe Valdary, Thomas Chatterton Williams, Wesley Yang, and many others.

But the lessons that ought to have followed the election—lessons about the importance of understanding other Americans, the necessity of resisting tribalism, and the centrality of the free exchange of ideas to a democratic society—have not been learned. Instead, a new consensus has emerged in the press, but perhaps especially at this paper: that truth isn’t a process of collective discovery, but an orthodoxy already known to an enlightened few whose job is to inform everyone else.

Twitter is not on the masthead of The New York Times. But Twitter has become its ultimate editor. As the ethics and mores of that platform have become those of the paper, the paper itself has increasingly become a kind of performance space. Stories are chosen and told in a way to satisfy the narrowest of audiences, rather than to allow a curious public to read about the world and then draw their own conclusions. I was always taught that journalists were charged with writing the first rough draft of history. Now, history itself is one more ephemeral thing molded to fit the needs of a predetermined narrative.

My own forays into Wrongthink have made me the subject of constant bullying by colleagues who disagree with my views. They have called me a Nazi and a racist; I have learned to brush off comments about how I’m “writing about the Jews again.” Several colleagues perceived to be friendly with me were badgered by coworkers. My work and my character are openly demeaned on company-wide Slack channels where masthead editors regularly weigh in. There, some coworkers insist I need to be rooted out if this company is to be a truly “inclusive” one, while others post ax emojis next to my name. Still other New York Times employees publicly smear me as a liar and a bigot on Twitter with no fear that harassing me will be met with appropriate action. They never are.

There are terms for all of this: unlawful discrimination, hostile work environment, and constructive discharge. I’m no legal expert. But I know that this is wrong. 

I do not understand how you have allowed this kind of behavior to go on inside your company in full view of the paper’s entire staff and the public. And I certainly can’t square how you and other Times leaders have stood by while simultaneously praising me in private for my courage. Showing up for work as a centrist at an American newspaper should not require bravery.

Part of me wishes I could say that my experience was unique. But the truth is that intellectual curiosity—let alone risk-taking—is now a liability at The Times. Why edit something challenging to our readers, or write something bold only to go through the numbing process of making it ideologically kosher, when we can assure ourselves of job security (and clicks) by publishing our 4000th op-ed arguing that Donald Trump is a unique danger to the country and the world? And so self-censorship has become the norm.

What rules that remain at The Times are applied with extreme selectivity. If a person’s ideology is in keeping with the new orthodoxy, they and their work remain unscrutinized. Everyone else lives in fear of the digital thunderdome. Online venom is excused so long as it is directed at the proper targets. 

Op-eds that would have easily been published just two years ago would now get an editor or a writer in serious trouble, if not fired. If a piece is perceived as likely to inspire backlash internally or on social media, the editor or writer avoids pitching it. If she feels strongly enough to suggest it, she is quickly steered to safer ground. And if, every now and then, she succeeds in getting a piece published that does not explicitly promote progressive causes, it happens only after every line is carefully massaged, negotiated and caveated.

It took the paper two days and two jobs to say that the Tom Cotton op-ed “fell short of our standards.” We attached an editor’s note on a travel story about Jaffa shortly after it was published because it “failed to touch on important aspects of Jaffa’s makeup and its history.” But there is still none appended to Cheryl Strayed’s fawning interview with the writer Alice Walker, a proud anti-Semite who believes in lizard Illuminati. 

The paper of record is, more and more, the record of those living in a distant galaxy, one whose concerns are profoundly removed from the lives of most people. This is a galaxy in which, to choose just a few recent examples, the Soviet space program is lauded for its “diversity”; the doxxing of teenagers in the name of justice is condoned; and the worst caste systems in human history includes the United States alongside Nazi Germany.

Even now, I am confident that most people at The Times do not hold these views. Yet they are cowed by those who do. Why? Perhaps because they believe the ultimate goal is righteous. Perhaps because they believe that they will be granted protection if they nod along as the coin of our realm—language—is degraded in service to an ever-shifting laundry list of right causes. Perhaps because there are millions of unemployed people in this country and they feel lucky to have a job in a contracting industry. 

Or perhaps it is because they know that, nowadays, standing up for principle at the paper does not win plaudits. It puts a target on your back. Too wise to post on Slack, they write to me privately about the “new McCarthyism” that has taken root at the paper of record.

All this bodes ill, especially for independent-minded young writers and editors paying close attention to what they’ll have to do to advance in their careers. Rule One: Speak your mind at your own peril. Rule Two: Never risk commissioning a story that goes against the narrative. Rule Three: Never believe an editor or publisher who urges you to go against the grain. Eventually, the publisher will cave to the mob, the editor will get fired or reassigned, and you’ll be hung out to dry.

For these young writers and editors, there is one consolation. As places like The Times and other once-great journalistic institutions betray their standards and lose sight of their principles, Americans still hunger for news that is accurate, opinions that are vital, and debate that is sincere. I hear from these people every day. “An independent press is not a liberal ideal or a progressive ideal or a democratic ideal. It’s an American ideal,” you said a few years ago. I couldn’t agree more. America is a great country that deserves a great newspaper. 

None of this means that some of the most talented journalists in the world don’t still labor for this newspaper. They do, which is what makes the illiberal environment especially heartbreaking. I will be, as ever, a dedicated reader of their work. But I can no longer do the work that you brought me here to do—the work that Adolph Ochs described in that famous 1896 statement: “to make of the columns of The New York Times a forum for the consideration of all questions of public importance, and to that end to invite intelligent discussion from all shades of opinion.”

Ochs’s idea is one of the best I’ve encountered. And I’ve always comforted myself with the notion that the best ideas win out. But ideas cannot win on their own. They need a voice. They need a hearing. Above all, they must be backed by people willing to live by them. 

Sincerely,

Bari (Weiss)

Aleppo Codex

"The Aleppo Codex", Matti Friedman (2016)

וַיְהִ֥י בַדֶּ֖רֶךְ בַּמָּל֑וֹן וַיִּפְגְּשֵׁ֣הוּ יְהוָ֔ה וַיְבַקֵּ֖שׁ הֲמִיתֽוֹ

At a night encampment on the way, the LORD encountered him and sought to kill him.

וַתִּקַּ֨ח צִפֹּרָ֜ה צֹ֗ר וַתִּכְרֹת֙ אֶת־עָרְלַ֣ת בְּנָ֔הּ וַתַּגַּ֖ע לְרַגְלָ֑יו וַתֹּ֕אמֶר כִּ֧י חֲתַן־דָּמִ֛ים אַתָּ֖ה לִֽי

So Zipporah took a flint and cut off her son’s foreskin, and touched his legs with it, saying, “You are truly a bridegroom of blood to me!” 

וַיִּ֖רֶף מִמֶּ֑נּוּ אָ֚ז אָֽמְרָ֔ה חֲתַ֥ן דָּמִ֖ים לַמּוּלֹֽת

And when He let him alone, she added, “A bridegroom of blood because of the circumcision.” 

Exodus 4: 24-26

 

"The army of the twelve tribes, with Moses, the Levites and the Tabernacle" (Partial view),  Jan Luyken (1700)

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik

(1/3)

(2/3)

(3/3)

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik on the Miracles Behind the Creation of the State of Israel (1955)

Refugiados

"The Untold Exodus of Jews from Arab Lands", Lyn Julius

Bob Dylan

"Goodbye Jimmy Reed"

"I live on a street named after a Saint
Women in the churches wear powder and paint
Where the Jews, and the Catholics, and the Muslims all pray
I can tell a Proddie from a mile away
Goodbye Jimmy Reed, Jimmy Reed indeed
Give me that old-time religion, it's just what I need

For thine is the kingdom, the power, the glory
Go tell it on the mountain, go tell the real story
Tell it in that straightforward, puritanical tone
In the mystic hours when a person's alone
Goodbye Jimmy Reed, godspeed
Thump on the Bible, and proclaim a creed

You won't amount to much, the people all said
'Cause I didn't play guitar behind my head
Never pandered, never acted proud
Never took off my shoes, threw 'em in the crowd
Goodbye Jimmy Reed, goodbye, goodnight
Put a jewel in your crown and I put out the lights

They threw everything at me, everything in the book
I had nothing to fight with but a butcher's hook
They had no pity, they never lend a hand
I can't sing a song that I don't understand
Goodbye Jimmy Reed, goodbye, good luck
I can't play the record 'cause my needle got stuck

Transparent woman in a transparent dress
Suits you well, I must confess
I'll break open your grapes, I'll suck out the juice
I need you like my head needs a noose
Goodbye Jimmy Reed, goodbye and so long
I thought I could resist her but I was so wrong

God be with you, brother dear
If you don't mind me asking what brings you here?
Oh, nothing much, I'm just looking for the man
Came to see where he's lying in this lost land
Goodbye Jimmy Reed, and everything within ya
Can't you hear me calling from down in Virginia?" 

 

Vida

Loch Arkaig pine forest, Scottish highlands,

One of the two male and one female osprey chicks that hatched five weeks ago

Moisés

"Moses Pleading with Israel"

Música

A Conversation with Velvel Pasternak (2016)

Alon Confino

"Between the Holocaust and the Nakba: 

When Genya and Henryk Kowalski Challenged History, Jaffa 1949"

Hassidismo

Illuminated pages from the pinkas ("minutes") books of the Mishnah Society of the Apter Rov's kloyz, Medzhybizh (c. 1840)

Espinosa

 

Portrait thought to be of Baruch de Spinoza, attributed to Barend Graat (1666)

Stan Lee

"Stan Lee: A Life in Comics", Liel Leibovitz

Vida

Vultures in Bhorni village, Himachal Pradesh state, India

Jonathan Sacks

"The Jewish Algorithm", a Commencement Speech from Rabbi Sacks

Bob Dylan

"Key West"

"McKinley hollered, McKinley squalled
Doctor said, "McKinley, death is on the wall
‪Say it to me, if you got something to confess"
‪I heard all about it, he was going down slow ‬
‪I heard it on the wireless radio ‬
‪From down in the boondocks way down in Key West
‪I'm searching for love, for inspiration ‬
‪On that pirate radio station
‪Coming out of Luxembourg and Budapest ‬
‪Radio signal, clear as can be
‪I'm so deep in love that I can hardly see ‬
‪Down on the flatlands, way down in Key West

‪Key West is the place to be ‬
‪If you're looking for immortality ‬
‪Stay on the road, follow the highway sign ‬
‪Key West is fine and fair
‪If you lost your mind, you will find it there
‪Key West is on the horizon line

‪I was born on the wrong side of the railroad track
‪Like Ginsberg, Corso and Kerouac
‪Like Louis and Jimmy and Buddy and all the rest ‬
‪Well, it might not be the thing to do ‬
‪But I'm sticking with you through and through ‬
‪Down in the flatlands, way down in Key West
‪I got both my feet planted square on the ground ‬
‪Got my right hand high with the thumb down ‬
‪Such is life, such is happiness
‪Hibiscus flowers, they grow everywhere here
‪If you wear one, put it behind your ear
‪Down in the bottom, way down in Key West ‬

‪Key West is the place to go
‪Down by the Gulf of Mexico ‬
‪Beyond the sea, beyond the shifting sand
‪Key West is the gateway key ‬
‪To innocence and purity ‬
‪Key West, Key West is the enchanted land

‪I've never lived in the land of Oz ‬
‪Or wasted my time with an unworthy cause ‬
‪It's hot down here, and you can't be overdressed
‪Tiny blossoms of a toxic plant ‬
‪They can make you dizzy, I'd like to help you but I can't
‪Down in the flatlands, way down in Key West ‬
‪Well, the Fishtail Palms, and the orchid trees
‪They can give you that bleeding heart disease
‪People tell me I ought to try a little tenderness ‬
‪On Newton Street, Bayview Park ‬
‪Walking in the shadows after dark ‬
‪Down under, way down in Key West ‬
‪I played Gumbo Limbo spirituals
‪I know all the Hindu rituals ‬
‪People tell me that I'm truly blessed ‬
Bougainvillea blooming in the summer, in the spring
Winter here is an unknown thing
Down in the flat lands, way down in Key West

Key West is under the sun, under the radar, under the gun
You stay to the left, and then you lean to the right
Feel the sunlight on your skin, and the healing virtues of the wind
Key West, Key West is the land of light

Wherever I travel, wherever I roam
I'm not that far from the convent home
I do what I think is right, what I think is best
Mystery Street off of Mallory Square
Truman had his White House there
East bound, West bound, way down in Key West
Twelve years old, they put me in a suit
Forced me to marry a prostitute
There were gold fringes on her wedding dress
That's my story, but not where it ends
She's still cute, and we're still friends
Down on the bottom, way down in Key West
I play both sides against the middle
Trying to pick up that pirate radio signal
I heard the news, I heard your last request
Fly around, my pretty little Miss
I don't love nobody, give me a kiss
Down on the bottom, way down in Key West

Key West is the place to be
If you're looking for immortality
Key West is paradise divine
Key West is fine and fair
If you lost your mind, you'll find it there
Key West is on the horizon line" 

Reuven Rubin

"Olive trees"

Países Árabes

Book "Uprooted: How 3000 Years of Jewish Civilization in the Arab World Vanished Overnight", Lyn Julius (EoZTV)

Chaim Grade

Ruth Wisse

"Who needs Antisemitism?" (2019)

Vida

 

One of five red macaws that were freed at Iberá national park, Argentina, as part of a project to restore native species

A prisoner cannot release himself from prison.

Berachot 5b

Avivah Zornberg

“She was what he had missed” - On the Loss of Women"

Música

"Jews in Music" (The Genesis Prize Foundation)

Carl Reiner ע״ה