Hope. Delayed.

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A celebration of life and religious service ended with eleven people killed and six wounded.
Unimaginable.
Unimaginable.
Unimaginable.
I spent Saturday fluctuating between shock, rage, and utter despair.
The word that came most to mind is this: disheartened.
I firmly believe the arc of the universe bends towards justice.
But, for today, my hope is dashed. Delayed.
May all of our hearts be comforted in these times.
And may the memories of all those who died be remembered for a blessing.

TOOLS TO CONSIDER:

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Me, Rabbi.

February 25, 2026

✧✧✧ I am a rabbi. I have a Masters Degree in Hebrew letters and a Doctorate of Divinity, and I am ordained as a rabbi. I have each credential framed, in my office, just behind where I sit. They’re not individually affixed to the wall—they lean against one another in a stack. I like the

Way Through

February 14, 2026

✧✧✧ Hugh’s dad died a few weeks ago. Hugh is a dear friend and Presbyterian minister in Waterloo (just west of Toronto), Ontario, Canada. I call, we small-talk for a while, and then I ask, “How is your heart?” “I appreciate you asking. My heart is heavy and sad.” ✧✧✧ I love Hugh.I mean, how many people do you know

Flash Bang

February 6, 2026

✧✧✧ My buddy Marc meets me near my house at 3:30 on Saturday afternoon so we can bike to the small park named for Elizabeth Caruthers. I looked her up as I started to write this article. Elizabeth Caruthers was an early pioneer woman whose Supreme Court case led to the 1850 Donation Act—ruling that a woman, married or not,