I have seen births and I have seen deaths. Both beautiful in their way. And a surprising thread connects them both.
I spent a year with Chabad Hasidim in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. I exulted, starkly disagreed, and considered glorious possibilities—often in the same moment.
From Hasidic questioners to rebellious nuns and priests, limit-pushers within tight-knit groups have a special camaraderie. I'm jealous.
In Vayishlach, Yaakov is given a new name: Israel. We may learn from Yaakov's life journey that God is always with us even during the darkest days. Through crippling and painful darkness, He never abandons Israel.
Rachel wants you to be free. Even if it's scary.
Food, you are sublime, terrifying, and filled with struggle. I love you, but why must you cause such guilt and fear?
It may seem twisted to have a love affair with death. People are afraid to die yet afraid to live. You cannot deal with your pain or with fear unless you're willing to live through it and I've experienced the contractions of giving birth to happiness in the face of agony.
I worked hard, eschewed fun, focused my soul on my book... and got a publishing nightmare. And the sense that maybe, sometimes, the present transcends the future.
My father would never come back. I never got to say goodbye. Was it all my fault?
