Stories

Growing up in the Soviet Jewish underground in the 1960s, Baruch Lepkivker would often hear his father, Yaakov, sing a single refrain from a particular Chassidic melody. It was just a movement, what’s referred to as a tenuah, a piece of a much longer nigg...

Given its large size and striking design, the tomb should have been easy to locate. Yet, it seems to have been swallowed up by the sands of time.

The following childhood memory was shared by Rabbi Chaim Mordechai Aizik Hodakov, a pioneering educator in Latvia and America, and chief of staff of the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory: There is one Chanukah that is deeply etched ...

Will we stand up against this vile hatred? Or will we look away until the flames reach all of us?

Generations later, a family heirloom comes full circle.

I used to be the apple of my father’s eye. For nearly the first five years of my life, he called me his sunshine and I was the center of his life. My father was a Holocaust survivor, having entered the gates of Auschwitz at the age of 15, seeing his belov...

This is my thing. It’s not big but it’s mine. And it’s not for me. It’s for them. The hostages.

A story from the Midrash.

We were nonobservant Russian-speaking Jews. Then a freak accident changed everything.

The remarkable story of Sholem Benchimol.