The patriarch Jacob, of whom we have read in the Torah the past few weeks, is the most maligned of our forefathers. With his seeming deception of his blind father to gain the firstborn blessing from Esau and his commercial manipulations of his father-in-law Laban, anti-Semites see him as the prototype of the wily, cunning, dishonest Jew who will do anything for profit.

Jacob is the forerunner of Shylock, who mourns more for his lost ducats than his lost daughter. In modern times, the State of Israel, named for him as well, is accused of engaging in questionable moral tactics and losing its soul to fight off its enemies.

And yet, we Jews celebrate Jacob. We call ourselves the children of Israel, the name given to Jacob after he wrestled with, and defeated, an angel. Why celebrate a man of seeming deceit?

It sounds simple: On Chanukah, we light a light in a chanukiah, or Chanukah menorah. We begin the festival by lighting one candle on the first night and work our way up to eight candles on the eighth night.

This is Judaism, however, and nothing is ever that simple.

Keeping the faith: One religious perspective on issues of the day

It is even more complicated than this article will make it seem, because much of what follows can be found in the Babylonian Talmud tractate Shabbat 21a-23a, which only begins the halachic conversation.

I have been close to Mormons ever since Michael Taft Benson — whose grandfather, Ezra Taft Benson, was the prophet of the Mormon Church at the time — joined the L’Chaim Society at Oxford University. Thus began a lifelong friendship that continues until today, with many visits to lecture for Mike at Southern Utah University and other mostly Mormon academies of higher learning in the majority Mormon state.

We all know about the Pilgrims and their journey to America. That story is at the heart of Thanksgiving, which we celebrated on Thursday. What most of us are not aware of, however, is that the Pilgrims patterned their festival of thanksgiving on the one we celebrated a month ago — Sukkot.

I wrote about this back in October 2008. Many people have asked to reprint that column. In essence, here it is again.

As a child growing up in America, the only time I heard about vampires was once every 10 years or so with the inevitable Dracula movie remake. Today, however, vampires and flesh-eating zombies dominate movies, television, and books, especially those aimed at teenagers. You see, we — with our predictable, monotonous, suburban lives — have become the undead. We may not dig our teeth into each other’s necks to draw blood, or suck an eyeball out of a friend’s socket. We are, however, consciously aware that we as a nation have reached a point of inertia and stagnation. This is most acutely felt by the young, who look upon the passionless, consumer-oriented world of their parents and fear that they, too, will be transformed into lifeless androids.

The reliability of eyewitness testimony is much in the news these days.

In August, the New Jersey Supreme Court made it easier for defendants to challenge eyewitness testimony before it gets to a jury. Last week, the U.S. Supreme Court was asked to do the same for the entire country.

Unlike New Jersey’s jurists, however, the “nine wise men” in Washington seem disinclined to do so, judging from their questions during oral arguments. (Yes, I know the “nine wise men” include three women.)

Given my limited experience in conducting Jewish weddings, I feared that I’d mess something up and my own daughter would end up living perpetually in sin. So, Mushki, I brought in the heavy guns — your new grandfather-in-law, Rabbi Lipsker of Philadelphia — to join me in conducting your wedding.

I have waited my entire life as a parent to see you under the chupah (the wedding canopy). You are my eldest child and we have always shared a special bond. One night, when you were about three and we were living in Oxford, I hosted “important” people for dinner and you were sent with your baby sister Chana to your room. You weren’t used to being separated from me and Mommy, and we had to install small bars in front of the bedroom door to make sure you stayed in bed and didn’t escape.

Cardinal Kurt Koch, the Vatican’s key representative to Jews, will make his first visit to New York, home to the largest Jewish community outside of Israel. The cardinal, appointed president of the Vatican’s Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews in 2010, has an opportunity, together with Jewish leaders, to reflect on the state of Catholic-Jewish relations and aspirations for the future.

While in New York, Koch will meet with, among others, the International Jewish Committee on Interreligious Consultations, or IJCIC. This coalition of Jewish organizations, recognized by the Vatican as the official consultative Jewish body for the advancement of Catholic-Jewish relations, was created in the aftermath of Nostra Aetate. That document of the Second Vatican Council (Vatican II, 1962-1965) changed the course of Catholic-Jewish history with its revolutionary statements rejecting the deicide charge against the Jews, decrying anti-Semitism, and affirming the validity of God’s ongoing covenant with the Jewish people. In the post-Shoah era, the Catholic Church had begun to come to terms with its role in facilitating anti-Jewish animus that created a climate receptive to the horrors of the Holocaust.