Cate Rubenstein

Don’t tell me to pray. Don’t tell me not to pray Don’t tell me when or how to pray. Stay out of my relationship (and if I have one) with Hashem entirely. Don’t tell me what to do, when it comes to private conversation between me and my presumed maker. That’s for us. Not public consumption. Media frenzy names like “Shabbat 250” are gross. Never mind exhorting Jews “come together in gratitude for our great Nation.” Is this about Jews? Or vanity?

Don’t tell me to pray. Don’t tell me not to pray Don’t tell me when or how to pray. Stay out of my relationship (and if I have one) with Hashem entirely. Don’t tell me what to do, when it comes to private conversation between me and my presumed maker. That’s for us. Not public consumption. Media frenzy names like “Shabbat 250” are gross. Never mind exhorting Jews “come together in gratitude for our great Nation.” Is this about Jews? Or vanity?

What Bad Bunny shows us about shrinking to fit. Embed from Getty Images Sunday, I watched a man stand up and say “My name is Benito Antonio Martinez Ocasio, and if I’m here today, it’s because I never — never — stopped believing in myself, and you should believe in yourself too. You’re worth more than you think.” I’m translating from Spanish, because he said it in Spanish, and left us (we who are SSL -Spanish as Second Language – or maybe not at all) to catch up. He did not hide. He did not placate.