My greatest spiritual teacher taught me that I have a soul, a part of me that is inherently worthwhile. Fifteen years after he died, in a world that too often tells people they are not worthwhile, I’m not surprised this teacher is getting so much attention: a few months ago, a documentary came out about him — and next year, a biopic will be released. Looking back at my weekly television visits with this teacher, I know he is worthy of all this attention. In his Neighborhood of Make-Believe, his puppets, King Friday and Daniel Tiger may not have been much to look at. But that wasn’t the point. These visits — with Mister Rogers — were encounters with my soul.
Read MoreAs I sat watching a magnificent string quartet perform, I lost a whole movement in the rumblings of my wandering attention. The measures and notes slipped by me and I began to worry I might walk away from the concert carrying only the concept of this event, but devoid of any substantive encounter with the music, itself. At the root of my concern was the creeping sense that I too frequently live my life as a concept of how a life should be lived, without sinking into my raw, messy moments of becoming.
Read MoreIn the commencement speech she gave at Sarah Lawrence in 2006, Ann Patchett observes:
Read MoreEvery choice lays down a trail of bread crumbs, so that when you look behind you there appears to be a very clear path that points straight to the place where you now stand.
But when you look ahead there isn’t a bread crumb in sight — there are just a few shrubs, a bunch of trees, a handful of skittish woodland creatures. You glance from left to right and find no indication of which way you’re supposed to go.
And so you stand there, sniffing at the wind, looking for directional clues in the growth patterns of moss, and you think, What now?
For most of my life, I’ve been a student. The Latin etymology of this word is related to studium ‘painstaking application’, making a mistake and trying again, tolerating the discomfort of being in process, approaching each task with the gracious self-acceptance of a beginner. As a student, I was able to nourish dreams and visions of what I could uniquely contribute to the world. As a student, I, and everyone around me, knew I was in a process of learning, of applying myself, painstakingly, to each new task.
Read MoreOver the next few weeks, I will see several friends receive the title “Rabbi." I remember how touching my ordination ceremony was for me, but also how much was unknown outside the walls of the sanctuary where my ceremony took place: What kind of work did I want to do in the long run? How would I continue to thrive outside the community of learning that had formed me as a rabbi? How would I make new friends as an adult? What would “success” look like to me in my rabbinic work?
Read MoreI’ve been looking for meaningful full-time work since crash-landing in Philadelphia in August. After living in Boston for eight years and being known and seen as a resource in the community, I suddenly found myself a stranger again, trying to make it as a rabbi in a new city – one full of other talented rabbis, no less.
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