WORDS THAT BREATHE

Drive Thru Judaism, a series of poignant experiences that, kept people safely in their cars, while providing poignant Jewish experiences uplifted our quarantined congregation, banishing loneliness and bringing spiritual sustenance to a community in quarantine.

The new normal of distanced coronavirus kehilla tefillah (communal prayer) offers new ways to enhance your Home High Holy Days. Consider these 3 previously banned behaviors to warm up your worship. They just might enhance your experience. Just please think twice before sharing them with your clergy. They might not be completely kosher.

Write a letter or a make a video to your future self who will exist five or six months from now. Remind yourself about the silver linings you want to continue to embrace. Maybe, just maybe, you will listen to yourself.

It’s time Jews begin counting. Start to count to correct your life. By counting, we just might convince ourselves that once we are able to leave our homes, we might want to hold onto some of these wholesome new behaviors to enhance our lives and deepen our love of living.

During this pandemic, we can Pay It Forward, taking care of a whole web of workers, businesses, and organizations that have long cared for, served, or sustained us.

A Jewish prayer finding strength in the responses of our ancestors to the trials in their lives. Specially written for during the Covid-19 outbreak

I feel this sense of deja vu as we began to cancel plans and hunker down. Yes, the coronavirus-compelled communal self-quarantine descending upon our county, state and country felt vaguely familiar. Here's how we get through then and will now. 

A poem providing insight into mourning during the in-between times.

Don't Wait: Lessons from my father-in-law Murray Novembert. (Yom Kippur sermon)

A poem about facing the moments over the High Holy Days - small but meaningful - when my dad won't be there.

A poem about those moments when I'm not feeling the sadness in the midst of the mourning.

Poem about when a friend visited me during my dad's shiva.

Standing for Kaddish that first time is surreal. This poem captures the multitude of feelings as I stood in temple to recite Kaddish for my father Ken Kipnes.

A spoken word poem about the theological questions that arise after the death of a loved one. Written as I think about my father Ken Kipnes.

A poem about what a mourner experiences, hidden away from the rest of the world, sometimes hidden even from friends or community members

Spoken word poetry about a rabbi who now has to be the one who sits shiva and let's other take care of him.

Spoken word poetry about seeing Dad in the mirror, and seeing dad within me.

A spoken word poem about a rabbi who realizes that after all the pastoral support for people whose loved ones have died, he never really knew what it felt like. Until his own father died.

How might synagogues and Jewish communities respond to the needs of teens to express their inner turmoil and to learn new techniques for managing stress and emotional exhaustion?

How does a Rabbi deal with the trauma of a fire and some shootings? Here's another peek into the journey.