I’m happy to report the tallit of Phillip Shenkler got a hero’s welcome this morning–its first Shabbat morning in use in a congregational setting in at least 26 years.
Phillip kept the the memorial booklet from Sara’s funeral in his tallit bag for 32 years until the day he died…and no one knew it until I opened the bag another 26 years later.
There is no Judaism, much less humanity, without community. Words and deeds that set us apart from each other are, perhaps, the greatest sins of all.
People often remark that converts tend to have a deeper knowledge of Judaism than do Jews by birth. But as with all things, practice makes perfect.
Faithful or agnostic. Zealot or atheist. How religious are you? Are you sure about your answer?. Sometimes we’re not as religious as we think. And sometimes we’re closer to God than we ever realized.
It can take a lot of bravery to turn off the world and tune into Shabbat. But that still, small voice can be pretty hard to hear when your social schedule is drowning it out.
There’s a reason Ryan and I have a rule about going to Six Flags on Shabbat. The rule is we don’t do it. It always takes falling off the wagon to remind you why you were on the wagon in the first place.
Not even trying to hide it, they both gaped in our direction with an enormously puzzled look on their faces. I saw the rest of this blog post coming: ‘Can I ask you a question? Do you know what you’re wearing on your head?’
If our rabbis can’t even keep compassion in their hearts across halachic lines, what chance do we rank-and-file Jews of differing denominations have of making peace amongst ourselves? Maybe more of a chance than we think.
If, in fact, we are our brother’s keeper, doesn’t our responsibility towards others include refraining from tearing each other down as we seek to elevate ourselves?