Several years ago, for one of my semi-annual projects, I committed myself to two new periodical subscriptions. I sought guidance, some helpful, some not. Eventually I selected two with daily on-screen issues. Years later, The Forward and The Atlantic remain on annual autopay. I target myself to read one each day except shabbos from The Atlantic and two from The Forward. For the most part, I've done rather well over several years. The Atlantic offers audio versions of most features. I never just listen, but commonly read along as the narrator's AI voice recites the words. Most of what I select as my preferred daily article takes 8-12 minutes. One feature took 53 minutes: https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/2026/08/reading-crisis-postliterate-age/687618/ I did not listen to this one but read it in segments over a few days. The author, a staff journalist, predicted the decline in attentive reading, the type that makes the higher brain centers sort out ideas, along with accumulating information. She acknowledged that our screens and feeds have forced us to read more words but of less complexity. We see and absorb snippets. Social media posts, advertising that psych grads from competitive schools chose for us based on intensity of reaction. Junk mail, nearly all unread, fills mailboxes. Email scrolling with its FOMO displaces better activities, though still with a few opportunities for interaction with another person at each view. Her theme seems to be that this increase in word volume falls short on purpose. The effort I made in choosing my new paid subscriptions, including a modest financial commitment, suggests that I sought presentations that would pass through an editor before getting to me. What I got to read would force some upgrade on my intellect. It did.
While my professional activity was medical, for which targeted study remained a priority during a long career, my more casual reading had a Jewish underpinning. Much of what I read came to me passively in the form of synagogue newsletters, a local Jewish weekly intended to promote the organization with my attachment to it as a byproduct, and a more substantial monthly periodical in magazine print. I have followed Parsha of the Week commentaries since the early days of the internet and quickly latched onto yutorah.org in the MP3 era, though most of those presentations were audio, not visual. Newer research suggests that audiobooks have less impact than struggling with written words and sentences. I probably could have figured that out from college where lecture content whizzed by but mastery of textbooks enabled high exam scores.
Now in retirement, my professional reading mostly includes three articles from each weekly edition of The New England Journal of Medicine. Jewish reading has taken on a greater daily focus.
I complete a fair amount of regular reading, some scheduled, some not. Two articles daily in The Forward. A previous editor used to publish the emails of her journalists. This has enabled me to make comments directly to many of the authors, including herself. If not overwhelmed by email and the comments are specific to the piece, these correspondents have a tendency to write back. Some give a "thanks for reading" response, but the younger ones seem more appreciative of the feedback on their content and expression. This moves daily reading upward, from a benefit to me to a shared exchange which enhances the consumer of content and its provider.
The Atlantic covers a diverse array of topics, though with a weight towards political analysis. I tend to gravitate to the Jewish themes. These usually come from people not on the magazine's payroll and are longer. Often they take more than one session for me to read, but they are substantial. Many authors have their own websites with contact information, so a direct or indirect email with my own perspective on their subject can be conveyed. These people have prominent positions that overwhelm them with email, but responses occasionally happen. More recently, The Atlantic has instituted a readers forum where a few hundred comments get added for most articles, including the Jewish ones. There is a mechanism for responding to individual comments, resulting in threads. I prefer to post my own thoughts on what The Atlantic published. Responses to my input are minimal, but forcing me to think about what I just read has its own value.
In the last year or so, I've added eJewish Philanthropy to my daily Jewish consumption. It arrives in my email at different times, but only on rare weekdays does it not appear at all. My relationship to Machers could best be described as inconsistent. Some admirable, many self-promoting in the quest for status. At least those I encounter locally. The universe of Judaism is quite large. Many I only know on paper or on screen. And I know that funding enables many good projects. If I were a mogul, would I fund Day Schools or Symphonies? What I tend to read from eJPhil are two things. Usually I select an article, mostly an op-ed promoting a pet project that a person of title has. I can usually relate to what is written. They allow comments. I add my own. Mostly, they have an editor that keeps those from cheerleaders and nodders but denies print to those from critics. That view of Achdus, or Unity, has probably diminished organizational Judaism in my lifetime. I no longer look to see if my remarks appear. I also tend to search the Birthday acknowledgements placed at the end. I open the links for my contemporaries, mostly people with more impressive cv's than me, often linked to their Wikipedia profile. Many law alumni, many financial mavens, a few with organizational titles. Doctors underrepresented.
These relatively short articles, most readable in one session, now arrive on my screen passively. They keep me engaged. They also give me a questionalble justification for what I don't read, those links to local personal encounters that generated an unfavorable impression, even resentment sometimes.
While short reading and selective responses on my part meet the small but consistent efforts that lead to a measure of mastery, books also remain part of my Jewish engagement, two or three most years. Arc of a Covenant took three library renewals to complete. Corresponding with book authors has become more difficult, though not impossible. Books published by commercial firms have to go through considerable editing, so the end reader can rely on a professional improving the fluency, upgrading detail, and minimizing loose tangents. They tend to be more complex, more dependent on other writing dozens of previous pages ago. Sometimes engaging with my Jewish world, or my professional one, requires undertaking the most difficult projects. Books serve that purpose for me. A consistent slog to get the entirely read, typically a half hour most nights. The satisfaction of completion, though, exceeds what my daily reading of news articles and op-eds generates.
Slow but consistent. Two articles from The Forward, one from The Atlantic with Jewish themes as a priority, one from eJPhil most days. A comment on content twice a week, directly to the author if an email address is available, to the Disqus option along with the observations of other readers. Four parsha commentaries every Thursday, now mostly written but audio in previous Torah cycles. And two books of suitable complexity each year.
Something remains missing. In college we used to have term papers, those explorations of a topic that require seeking resources and creating a presentation. These have not entirely disappeared, but have become rare. Occasionally I will get an invitation for a presentation at synagogue that requires some exploration. And I write my own op-eds and narratives, submit a few haphazardly, but rarely reach anyone else.
Reading has a way of keeping my thoughts open to what others think. It has its limitations, particularly in the social sphere. Committee meetings and personal gatherings also promote exchange of ideas between people. Zoom sessions have inhibited this, as people need to take turns, much as they would take their turn to type a statement onto Disqus at the end of an article. Yet little elevates my mood more than a response from an author to whose work I have assessed, sometimes challenged. Interactive and community does not always require personal presence.
So for now I seem content with my daily quota of Jewish thought and the format by which it comes my way.
