A Blessing on a Cheeseburger
As I look back to that time, I believe I was beginning to wonder how eating could be a sacred act even if my actions were not based in Jewish law.
As I look back to that time, I believe I was beginning to wonder how eating could be a sacred act even if my actions were not based in Jewish law.
That is what it feels like to be a communal servant right now. Not broken in one place. Broken into pieces, each one flying in a different direction.
In a self-obsessed and individualistic world, how can we recognize, delight in, and live up to the commitments we have to each other, to the world, and to making it more sacred?
The number of mornings that I wake up, look at my sweet Zusha, and feel that I am betraying him by raising him as a Jew keeps growing: Have I condemned him to a life of trauma because he is Jewish?
It is my hope that every adopted child grows to know and honor that they belong to at least two families—the family of their birth and the family of their upbringing.
How should I atone for not keeping my promise to my deceased friend?
With younger generations relating and connecting so differently than older generations, what happens to the role of the rabbi?
What strange new life forms might grow from the breaking down of old models and structures of change-making?
When we meet a child’s question with reverence instead of resolution, we move from instructing to accompanying.
What if true wisdom were never about arriving at the right answers, but instead about cultivating the right postures?