I follow the Barry Freundel case quite closely, closer than most. I have a dog in the race: I’m a confirmed victim (though the videos he took of me inside the preparation room at the mikveh was recorded outside the statute of limitations). When news broke yesterday of a defense memo I immediately got my hands on an unredacted version. The Washington Post soon published a redacted copy, obscuring the identities of several women who were named by the defense expressing sympathy or confusion about the prominent rabbi’s arrest.
Shira Goldberg stepped across the stage at East Henderson High School in western North Carolina and presented a yellowed letter to Shani Lourie.
Tony Oats doubled over in laughter when he heard our request. Never before in his ten years as a museum employee, had he received such a funny inquiry.
“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”
Growing up in a Reform Jewish home in the Midwest, I loved Shabbat with my mother, lighting the candles and attending services. Usually we were only among five people in the front rows of the pews in an enormous Reform Congregation of 500 empty seats, or shall we say non-attending members. But it felt very full, bright and numinous, to me, because I was by my mother’s side. She would lean forward, look right into my eyes, and sing the prayer songs in Hebrew so that I would learn the words.