Reflections

2/14/2025

Finding Our Footing When the World is Upside Down

When I was in college, an old factory campus nearby was transformed into a contemporary art museum. The new and impressive Mass MoCA got a lot of attention. My philosophy course even went there on a field trip.

And that's when I first saw them: the upside down trees.

Six red maple trees, each with their roots planted in a stainless steel container, hung from a metal truss. When the trees were first installed, Natalie Jeremijenko - the artist and engineer of "Tree Logic" - said she hoped to "answer the question of what happens when you grow trees upside down."

Even when inverted, the trees still grew away from the ground and toward the sun. The branches bent and the canopy shapes changed, as the trees reached for the sunlight they needed. Were they stressed? Absolutely. But they survived, and would be replaced and replanted each time they outgrew their metal containers.

The whole installation stayed for longer than anyone expected - almost 25 years.

I've been thinking about those upside down trees, as we've approached today's full moon and the Jewish holiday of Tu B'Shevat. The 15th of the month of Shevat is the date that marks a new year of growth for trees. This year I think it's those red maple trees that surprised everyone that can teach us, and maybe even inspire us.

Even when our world goes upside down, and our familiar grounding is gone, growth is still possible. We just need to reach for what nourishes us. We need to keep focused on the values and light that guide us.

When the news from Washington is chaotic and upsetting, we need to reach for one another. We need to remember that living organisms - humans, trees, and everything in between - are dynamic. We react when our basic needs are disrupted. That's the art of living.

May we find grounding in one another.
May we trust our resilience.
May we be guided by love and wisdom.

12/7/2023

How do you spell Hanukkah?!

I'm excited to start lighting Hanukkah candles tonight with family and friends, but this year I'm also struggling with the story. The Maccabees bravely fought for freedom, but how do we interpret their violence and zealotry? How do we celebrate when there is so much suffering - then and now - in the land of Israel?

Perhaps the early rabbis had a similar struggle. They didn't want to encourage more revolts against the Romans, so the rabbis shift the focus of the Hanukkah narrative to the scene inside the Temple during the clean up and rebuilding. Hundreds of years later, they move away from the Maccabees' military victory and lift up the miracle of the oil.

The rabbis also give the holiday its name: Hanukkah.  Previously, the historian Josephus had referred to the "Festival of Lights."  Hanukkah means "dedication." After the fighting, the Jews rebuild and rededicate the Temple in Jerusalem.

The Jews rededicate themselves to their God, core teachings, and values. They rekindle the eternal lamp, and move forward, one step at a time, with a sense of purpose.

As we all know, dedication is not always easy, and it's an ongoing process more than a one-time victory. That's why we return to Hanukkah each year.

This Hanukkah, I am grateful for the dedication of journalists who are holding up the complexity of the war in Israel and Gaza. I am grateful for the dedication of teachers who are empowering their students with empathy and nuance.

I am grateful that there are Israelis and Palestinians still dedicated to peace and shared society. I am grateful that, in response to the overwhelming events and tragedy, people here have said: I want to better understand. I want to dedicate time and attention to learning more.

I am grateful that Sanctuary is a community of humans with open hearts and minds. We're curious and compassionate, and comfortable with unresolved questions. We ask ourselves: Which parts of our Jewish lives need more dedication? Which parts deserve reimagination?

When using English letters, we have a few ways of spelling Hanukkah (for some levity, listen here).
In Hebrew, "dedication" looks like this: חֲנֻכָּה
And in Hebrew, we can use the same letters to write "education" or hinuch: חִינוּךְ

As we enter into Hanukkah:
May we dedicate ourselves to learning and relearning.
May we give ourselves time to practice new skills.
May we give our attention to hearing new perspectives.
And in the process, may we discover new sources of strength and light.

Happy Hanukkah!

9/13/2023

Inviting Barbie to the High Holy Days

It's always difficult to say goodbye to the summer. Our schedules quickly get busier. The days become shorter. There are fewer opportunities to swim, or travel, or simply sit still.

And yet the sweetness of summer adventure does stay with us. This September I'm feeling grateful for the new confidence I see in my children thanks to her embrace of overnight camp and to his determination to ride a two-wheeler.

I'm also feeling inspired by the strong women who dominated the stages and stadiums this summer. The more I learn about Taylor Swift's concerts, the more intrigued I am by her widespread resonance with so many people. The more I learn about Greta Gerwig's process for writing and directing Barbie, the more amazed I am by what she created and shared with the world.

If I could invite one special teacher to accompany us all through the Days of Awe this year, believe it or not, it would be Barbie. This summer on the big screen she modeled what it means to choose life. She chose to be real, not perfect. And what a lesson that is for all of us!

At the end of the film, Ruth Handler explains to her: "I created you so you wouldn't have an ending. You understand that humans only have one ending. Ideas live forever. Humans not so much. Being a human can be pretty uncomfortable...Humans make things up like patriarchy and Barbie just to deal with how uncomfortable it is."

Then Barbie responds: "Yes, I want to be part of the people that make meaning, not the thing that is made. I want to do the imagining..."

In the year ahead, may we each choose life.
May we choose to be real, not perfect.
May we embrace the moments of discomfort,
trusting they will lead to new confidence and meaning.
May we make room for teachers and inspiration all around us.
May it be so.

6/7/2022

The Wisdom of Climbing Mountains

I love Shavuot, because it's our mountain climbing holiday! We stand at Mount Sinai and receive the gift of Torah once again.
We never hike the same mountain twice. The weather and our companions always define the experience, and whatever is going on in the world within us and the world around us often frames our time on the trail.

This is also true for the Torah we receive each year. We never hear the same story twice, because we are changing and growing. And our world is certainly in flux.

This year I've been thinking about the hardest section of a mountain climb. It's not the very first steps, because those are full of excitement and energy, even if there's a dose of trepidation. The most challenging part, in my experience, is what follows. It's the initial stretch before you've earned a water break or a view. Sometimes you can still hear cars driving on the road. It's all work and no glory. But it's the foundation of the journey, so you can't skip it.

It turns out the hardest of the 10 commandments given at Sinai may be found in a similar spot: not the first instruction but the second one. The first announces the relationship: "I am the Eternal your God who brought you out of the land Egypt." It's exciting and energizing, even if there's a dose of intimidation.

But then the second commandment explains: "You shall have no other gods besides Me." Our ancient ancestors were very concerned about idol worship. Although most of us are probably immune to the allure of the gods Ba'al and Asherah, we're upset and angry about our country's continued struggle with other forms of idolatry: the worship of power; the worship of guns; and the worship of individual rights, except, of course, when it comes to a woman's choice.

This year ascending the mountain feels like fleeing to the hills, as the waters of despair and destruction roll in. What I am holding in my heart is the possibility that the wisdom of mountain climbing can guide us. We are in that hardest stretch at the base of the hill, at the beginning of the commandments. That's the reality.

But if we can elevate what matters most - family, justice, compassion and peace - above all other temptations, we will make progress. If we can worship the source of these values, or at least commit ourselves to expanding their presence in our lives, then change will come. Step by step, the climb will grow easier. We will build momentum, hope and perspective.

May this year's climb energize us.
May the view inspire.
May we find healing and health in the hills.

6/23/2021

Blessing for Parents at the Close of the School Year

As we reach the close of this most unusual and challenging school year, I'm feeling many emotions all at once. Jewish wisdom invites us to mark these moments in time with blessings. I offer these words for all of us who have been caring for the children in our midst.

May we allow ourselves to exhale.
May we feel relief alongside our exhaustion.
It was uncertain and imperfect.
But our children learned and grew.
We witnessed resilience and flexibility come through.
We found masks that fit.
We remembered the daily health forms.
We stayed home and got tested for the community's sake and our own peace of mind.
We balanced physical risk and mental health.
Our teachers reimagined their classrooms and routines.
Our kids learned to sit at desks and all sorts of computer skills.
We learned how to keep them company and let them be.
We discovered new depths of fear and new sources of gratitude.
Each phase came with a pivot, and we found our way through.

Source of Life and Love,
Holy One of Blessing,
Thank you for the gifts of our precious lives,
For the strength to take on challenges small and large,
For the support we feel when we reach out to one another.
Grateful are we for reaching this season of the year.

1/6/2021

The Miracle of Chanukah: Long Ago & At This Very Time

After what felt like too many days of gray skies leading into 24 hours of heavy rain, my daughter and I managed to get outside for some fresh air and exercise late on Saturday afternoon.

When we turned to head home on the Boston Post Road, we could not believe our eyes. The setting sun was remarkably bright and beautiful.  It looked like a ball of fire dropping into the horizon!

I did some research to better understand the sight we beheld. How could a setting sun produce so much light?

One of the explanations felt obvious once I read it, and yet, it was exactly the message I needed: During sunset, the sun remains in the sky even after it has mostly gone dark. Our eyes are adjusted to lower light, and so the sun appears brighter.

After being immersed in darkness for such a long time, we have arrived at a surprising opportunity. Now a small amount of light holds the power to transform our world.

This is the miracle of Chanukah, back then and right now: One flame can pierce the darkness. A little bit goes a long way. And if we dedicate ourselves for 8 days, we'll see and feel a difference.

So this Chanukah, let's dedicate ourselves to introducing new sources of light in our windows and on our tables, in our relationships and our routines, and in what we read and share with one another. There's a lot of darkness to dispel, but a little bit of effort, attention and play can truly brighten our days!

For families with kids at home, I put together 8 Nights: 8 Ways to Celebrate with Light as a guide for spreading light and marking the holiday together.  We're also gathering on Zoom this Saturday for a special book reading and latke demo (details below).

For all of us, may we count the miracles in our lives right now - small and large. May our eyes soon sense a new surge of light, love and connection. May the sparks of change glow within us and around us and become an amazing sight to behold.

10/31/2019

The Genesis of a Spiritual Startup

Sanctuary officially opened last weekend, and it was good!

It’s always challenging to decide when to start something new. Sometimes it’s smart to wait until we feel ready, and other times we need to push ourselves to jump in.

When I saw that we would be reading the opening words of Torah at the end of October, I grabbed onto those dates. The week when we relive the wonder of creation “in the beginning” felt like the exact right time to begin a new, exciting project like Sanctuary.

Each gathering of the weekend embodied a different aspect of creativity, and collectively they formed the genesis of this spiritual startup:

1. The creative process involves making separations: “God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and God separated the light from the darkness” [Gen. 1:3-4].

Differentiation adds much-needed texture to our lives, and at our Shabbat Dinner Gathering, we all felt the benefits of creating space and time in our week to truly be with one another. We sat around the table, enjoyed delicious food and wine, talked about our lives, and really listened to each other. The evening felt special, because it felt separate from the rest of the week.

2. The creative process involves an element of surprise. When God said, “Let there be light,” God didn’t know exactly what would happen or how it would turn out. Only after taking the risk did God see (perhaps with a sense of relief) “that the light was good.” At our Family Gathering at Sheldrake Environmental Center, we practiced paying attention with all of our senses, and personally, I was surprised – and moved – to see how bright and beautiful the foliage had become.

3. When we intentionally stop, that can be the most creative act of all. “On the seventh day God finished the work that God had been doing, and God ceased” [Gen. 2:2]. When God paused, that completed the work of creation. At the Friday afternoon Yoga Circle, we spent an hour pausing with our bodies, holding poses for longer than we’d choose on our own. Taking a weekly pause is essential not only to our productivity but also to our happiness, and the yoga practice helped us internalize this ancient message.

4. The creative process is ongoing. Sanctuary is committed to bringing Jewish wisdom into dialogue with modern life, and gathering in community around what we care about deeply: food and cooking, political activism, meditation, music, nature, and more. Along these lines, we are eager to reimagine the path to becoming b'nai mitzvah, and here to support families through other life cycle events as well.

We are just getting started!

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