Joy and Hate and Patience and Love

On the first Monday of the month, I send out a looser, chattier article.

 

So, “hi.”

 

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Today’s newsletter is a compilation of a few short-thoughts on:

 

  • joy
  • less hate
  • love
  • patience.

 

 


 

 

Joy.

 

Joy doesn’t exist when we are in shame or guilt. Joy exists only when we feel light, forgiven. Open.

 

When I’m not feeling joyous, it might be a sign for me to ponder what’s holding me back and if I can be extra tender to myself.

 

G.K. Chesterton:

Angels can fly because they can take themselves lightly.

 

And a quote I saw that really struck home:

You’re not healing to be able to handle trauma. You are used to trauma. You are healing to be able to handle joy.

 

Amen.

 

 

Less Hate

 

I’ve recently taken to observing the sabbath by seeing if I can’t get 14 hours of relief from unnecessary hate. 

 

I’ve written in the past about my Friday night practice of telling those with whom I eat what they mean to me.

 

Refraining from unnecessary hate is a new addition—to refrain from hate from Saturday morning until bedtime.

 

Sometimes this means asking for a change of conversation topics. Or excusing myself to another space. 

 

Sometimes it means being aware that I’m being more judgmental than necessary. 

 

Do you want a 14-hour respite from unnecessary hate?

 

How much do you want it?

 


 

Love.

 

Maya Angelou:

I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

 

I saw a similar phrase recently that reminded me of this: 

Be somebody who makes everybody feel like a somebody.

 

It gives good direction to what I’m we’re supposed to do.

 


 

Patience

 

On the web:

I didn’t realize I was supposed to know how to do everything by my second rodeo. Seems like a very low amount of rodeos.

 

When Emmett was a newborn, I panicked while changing his diaper. 

 

“I can’t do this,” I cried desperately to Jane hoping she would come over and save me.

 

Instead she said something which we have referred to ever since as The First Rule Of The Mayer Family:

Everybody gets to learn, and everybody gets to make mistakes.

Stuff Gets To Me

✧✧✧ As I pack up to leave after my workout, someone asks me, “Hey, Rabbi, how are things going?” I’m not one for small talk. Especially after being called by my title. “Well,” I reply. “I’m sad.” “Why?” “I’m thinking about the girls who went to school in the morning in Minab, Iran—over a hundred of them—killed by a bomb.”

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My Letter to Habakkuk

✧✧✧ To my dearest pen pal, Habbakuk: First, let me say, no one remembers the prophets who did not deliver on the goods. Your predictions came true. And, 2500+ years later, you are still remembered. Do you remember Lenny, that guy? Kept going around Judea telling people “the goats will lay down in green pastures,” and, then, remember? It started

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Me, Rabbi.

✧✧✧   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

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