This morning, a miracle happened.It was small. Barely noticeable. I could have missed it. But it happened. Over the past year, I’ve made an intentional choice to work on my emunah, my sense of mutual-faithfulness with the Divine. I struggle with this because my rational brain keeps wanting me to explain myself, to put God in a box. To see the world as a chaotic mechanism that is merely the expression of randomness, choice, and nature. But as I’ve spent time deepening my understanding of the...

Over the summer, I had a bit of a crisis. It didn’t just happen overnight, it had been bubbling over the last several years. I spent much of the past year reflecting deeply on my rabbinic and personal journey, thinking about the tremendous upheaval from the Covid era, the overwhelm of the October 7th War. Little of the Judaism in my life felt meaningful. What was this all for? Why spend all of this time, money, energy? Who cares? Something felt broken. I kept asking these questions...

Barely a few weeks ago, we didn’t just remember the Exodus. We were asked to see ourselves as though we had left Egypt. Lirot et atzmo, to imagine it as part of us. This line has always called out to me. It is a reminder that: Memory isn’t passive in Judaism. It’s active, alive, arriving. Memory creates a kind of pressure in us. An ongoing request from the past on our present. Today is Yom HaShoah, and we’re asked to remember again. But not in the soft, distant sense. We light candles. We say...