Prayer

There was only one logical explanation. This guy, he was doing it on purpose. He might as well have been bobbing his head right at me, saying, “Look at you, man! You think you're praying? That's not praying. This is praying.” Outrageous.

Watching the snowy blizzard outside my window, I can imagine now the upside down blizzard that emanated from this neighborhood when baby Rachel was diagnosed.

Have you ever wondered why the teenager who who was the town terror suddenly settled down to become the favorite uncle, or most upstanding member of the community? Can it be more than just time and maturation at work?

"The problem began," at this point Esther's voice is lowered into almost a whisper, "when my wonderful daughter met a man whom she planned to marry—and he wasn't Jewish..."

"What is it like for you to have a son poised to begin the ground assault? To come face to face with his enemies?" I ask Lily.

G-d, I did all that was humanly possible to create the perfect receptacle for your blessing, now I will step aside and let You do the speaking, I will let You do the singing, I will let You give the presentation.

It took me a while to settle on using the ladder/prayer imagery for this week. I kept on fighting it because… well, honestly, I’m not very good at praying. But eventually time ran out and the ladder was the best shot I had. So I decided to animate what I ...

It's me again. Down here. This tiny fleck, in the huge vastness of Your universe. Me asking You, once again, to fulfill my needs. My wants.

It was a simple question. But I don't know how to be simple, my training is in the complex...

I ask myself: Am I a hypocrite? Who is the real me? How can a mouth that just uttered angry words to a fellow switch over to read G-d's praises?