Spiritualigious Shorts Three Rabbi Brian mini-stories. Let them be The Fontainebleau’s lavishly-decorated ballroom is filled with florists, musicians tuning instruments, and a bevy of coordinators buzzing about. In an hour, in a black robe, I will walk down the aisle and officiate at this swanky black-tie affair. Carrie, my favorite South Beach coordinator (and […]
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“You are neither obligated to complete the work nor free to keep from trying.” – Rabbi Tarfon (70-135 CE) *** “I thought a secret location would be different,” says Emmett, through a piece of cheese pizza a couple miles from our house. Annie, mouth not full, shifts her gaze for validation between Jane
Helping. Nonetheless. Read More »
“I once wrote a letter to Hafiz,” I tell my friend Mary as we sit, COVID-safe, removing masks to have sips of the cocktails we’ve met for. “You what?” “I wrote Hafiz a letter. I wanted to ask him a question, so I figured I’d write him a letter.” We are seated at Stanford’s.
A Long Lasting Truce Read More »
Love His name is Nae-nae. Dark gray fur covers his emaciated body. Scabs on the tips of his ears fall off in my fingers as I touch them. We arrived at the Kauai Humane Society on the third day of our vacation there, not knowing which of the shelter’s dogs we would be taking
**JACK** I’m walking, excitedly, from the Hall of Philosophy, past Chautauqua’s 3,000 person amphitheater, holding my cell-phone next to my ear talking to Larry, my BFF. “I’m very jealous of you,” Larry tells me. “You should be,” I tell him. We both laugh. I follow Morris Avenue in this “model train village come to life”
**A Groovy Sabbath Practice** “Harrison. Emily. I want you to hold hands and look at each other,” I say to the excited-to-be-getting-married couple on the other side of my computer screen. I ask, “You know the song, by the Romantics, _What I like about you_?” They nod. “Harrison, I’m going to ask you to
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I had to go for a jog this morning. I hate jogging. I’ve never experienced a runner’s high. But I know that I need to force myself to jog at times. Especially when I need, as my therapist has advised me, “to get back into my body.” I’m up in my head a lot.
Greeting Cards. I’d like to manufacture a line of greeting cards: “Congratulations on your Child’s Conversion!” There ought to be demand; there is a marked uptick in religious conversion numbers during uncertain times. I can imagine the card’s cover would have a picture of an arrow. Bold text floats above the graphic: Extraordinary! Wonderful.
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In what used to be the sisters’ laundry building, I sit in a standard-issue, burgundy, vinyl, wingback chair. Marylhurst University’s conference center. Lake Oswego, Oregon. At the time, I am the only rabbi in the world teaching mathematics in a Catholic high school. Both non-teaching staff and us with more direct youth interface are
**My Mourning Neighbor** I walk home in the early evening light from using my friend Dave’s chop saw. I’ll later assemble the parts I’m carrying into a base for an abstract, stained-glass lamp I’ve been working on. Across the street from our Hamilton-blue Dutch Colonial, I see Nancy descend the flight of steps in front
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