“You know,” I said, “This is how I feel wearing a kippah. I feel like the hand of the Holy One cups my head. I feel blessed.”
She could imagine that feeling, she said. Still, she would hate to offend anyone. She would not like for people to feel she was doing something false. Continue reading
Almost ten years ago, when our community had just gotten its start, I held a wintertime healing service. One of my congregant’s daughters-in-law was facing a losing battle with cancer. Her children were both under five years of age. There were other griefs brought to that service. Yet we prayed, and healed – at least a little.
I do not remember how it happened. That first, beloved drum slipped off Ralf’s leg and fell to the ground. We looked at the shards, calling to the children to stay away. Continue reading