My closest friend died on Tuesday at the age of 93. He was an angry, profane man who had survived incredible pain – an abusive father, childhood anti-Semitism, and being on the beach for the first day of Normandy.
Shabbat is a special time for me. It begins around 4:00 on a Friday afternoon, when I retreat to a Starbucks for an hour or two of study and Jewish writing. And then it’s off to temple for the Friday night service, and Shabbat dinner at home.
I had a difficult childhood. I joined a synagogue when I was 30, and I attended services fairly regularly, but I hated God.
Together, we will champion the lessons of Passover by bringing greater wholeness, justice, and belonging to our world.