Appearance-based prejudice is everywhere, and I am very guilty despite my ideals. It's hard to overcome, but let's try.
And then I see that which I can not un-see. What it looks like when a car so barbarically hits an elderly man. What it looks like when the Angel of Death wrestles Man. What it looks like when spirit starts to fade from matter.
Rivka examines why giving without expecting anything in return isn't as great as it's made out to be.
When you’re flying up a tunnel toward the iridescent Soul of the Universe, you had better not be driving the after-school carpool! So what purpose do these things serve?
I always look down to see the needle enter my arm, so that I can better understand the frailty of life. It stings a little as it goes in, but the pain is worth it.
Given the options, I’m glad I don’t fit in. I’m glad I keep my eyes open. I’m glad institutions make my skin crawl, that being in church—or anyplace that feels like a western, Christian, colonized knockoff—doesn’t feel right to me.
I’m lonely for a real leader. I’m surrounded by charismatic pulpit Rabbis, authors, lecturers, Halachic geniuses and community activists-- yet something is missing. I don’t feel like there’s anyone out there fighting for me.
Jewish monastic communities could offer warm, exhilarating homes to many who seek a comfortable niche. Let's build them.
All this is hard. As much as I wish I could be soft with myself and understanding and even compassionate, I can be excruciatingly mean.
