The Long Way Back to Covenant
But I had gone to the one place that was supposed to have to let me in, and it sent me back to the house I’d run out of.
But I had gone to the one place that was supposed to have to let me in, and it sent me back to the house I’d run out of.
How many experiences or adventures are we closed to because we say, “I cannot do that?”
It was a spiritual experience, to dance with abandon, no choreography except what came from each heart, each body, unique and expressive, improvisational at its core.
The assumption that there is only one path to true and perfect joy, especially when one makes that claim in the name of God, or any other redemptive scheme be it religious or political, has a rather deadly track record in human history.
That’s the gift Judaism offers: not the impossible expectation of perfection, but a framework for time-bound promises and fresh starts.
Sometimes, the greatest kindness we can offer each other is the space to rest, even if it breaks the mold of what a “healthy” relationship is supposed to look like.
We are entering an era in which people will seek sanctuaries of meaning.
I sit on the couch facing the sliding glass doors to savor the sights and sounds of God’s creatures who share my small patch of Eden.
At one of the most famous theophanies in the Torah, when Moses stood at the burning bush, God told him to remove his shoes, because he was standing on holy ground.