*** 01 Dog guilt *** My sharp shout, “Hey!” scared Sparky, my beloved, small, dachshund-chihuahua mix. His little face looks up and says—I like to believe I know what he’s thinking—“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know.” But he and I both know what he did. The single piece of […]

Those of us ordained as rabbis by HUC-JIR in May of 1998 received an email on February 3, 2023. The email was to tell us that the seminary would send a more detailed email by February 10 with details of the 25-year ceremony, to be held on May 4, 2023, in which the college would

The woman seated next to me en route from my connection in Dallas asks, “So whatever is bringing you from Los Angeles to Lynchburg?”   “This airplane,” I tease and quickly follow up, “but seriously, a mentor of mine invited me to perform as part of a revue show at the Hyatt tomorrow night.”  

  _08/30/1998_ Dear Diary, I met the remarkable Shauna Jean Malone today. And she is remarkable. I can even prove it, Dear Diary? I’m remarking upon her right now, am I not? Anyhow, today is her birthday. We were introduced at the Wren Dormitory corner of the uphill quad. The residential assistants had assembled all

As you know, I send a spiritualigious newsletter every Monday, except for the last Monday of the month. Last Monday, January 30, you received the year’s first non-issue newsletter—the same one you’ll get at the end of each subsequent month in 2023. And, last week, January 30, instead of doing my usual off-newsletter-week’s task—ROTB’s end

******* GRACE & ACCEPTANCE *** Before his magical visit with Clarence, the wood finial atop the newel post at 320 Sycamore comes off in George Bailey’s hand, frustrating him. As he has not yet had his epiphany, the fictional, relatable character, brought to life by Jimmy Stewart, decries the beat-up staircase for reminding him of

***This thing of which we are in pursuit***   Imagine, if you would, that you are in a class or lecture of mine.   It’s not the start of the session.   We are past that. We’ve established some rapport as a group.   Casually, between topics, a raise my hand indicating a question is

Every week, The New Yorker magazine gives readers a cartoon in need of a caption. My friend Melissa won contest #733. I think it’s so cool that someone I know won. This led me to thinking about something that I recently did and how we all add captions to the life before our eyes.  

Two Thankfully-Ruined Gratitude Practices   ***   She ruined two gratitude practices.Two. One person.She ruined two gratitude practices I had enjoyed and heretofore had swore by. I don’t really blame Sara-Jean, a former mentee of mine since 1996—now nearly 40, mother of three, PhD in education, and professor at USC. Truthfully, I blame her cancer,

The young, Soviet-raised, Gen Y—a group who would be reclassified outside relation to my cohort (Generation X) and instead be based on the calendar — a millennial— is vehement, raising his voice at me: “No, Rabbi. You must believe in God or you are not a rabbi.”       “Sorry, Alexi, no. I don’t.”