Rabbi Brian tries to not make any interesting comments to prove a point about conversation.
✧✧✧ 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
✧✧✧ 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
✧✧✧ 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,