Dear Park Hill,

I feel a desperate need to say something impactful or do something meaningful for you, for any and every community touched by the prejudice and injustice of this moment. I feel angry, scared and impotent in the face of the narrow minded, cold-hearted forces of bigotry and hate. The best I can do right now is to remember what you did for me in another difficult moment.

It was a Sunday morning in October of 2018. The day before, a crazed madman entered the Tree of Life synagogue and massacred Jews who had chosen to observe their Sabbath in their community. On that Sunday when you showed up to observe your Sabbath, I was there for our community’s Sunday programming … feeling afraid, vulnerable and shaken.
Just like our shared spiritual ancestors do in our sacred stories, you simply showed up and said: Hineni, Here I am. You could not eliminate antisemitism from the world, you could not erase the vulnerability we felt at the moment, you could not make sense of the lives that were lost … and you did not try to do any of those things. You just showed up and said: Hineni, Here I am. There were words of comfort, gestures of support and silent embraces. They all simply communicated what I needed in the moment: to know that you were there standing with me and my community. And it meant everything.

Even though that is ‘all’ you did, I knew that you were (and still are) willing to partner with us to do the work that might eliminate hate, erase the vulnerability that originates from the fear of the other and create a world in which every life is precious.

In the midst of this pandemic, my community and I cannot physically show up so that you can feel the breath of our words of comfort from our lips, the warmth and connection of our touch or the power of our embrace … but do not doubt it for a moment — Hineni, We are are.

Hineni – We are here in this moment with you, without any grasp of the words to say that might change the world … but are eager to learn how to engage in that conversation.

Hineni – We are here in this moment with you, not knowing what exactly to do… but we are eager to roll up our collective sleeves and to go to work.

Hineni – We are here in this moment with you, even without understanding what fully showing up means. What we do know – with help from you – is that showing up means not trying to save you or fix it for you, but standing next to you because the things that scare you scare us; that your injustices are our injustices; that your peace is our peace.

Hineni – We are here.

B’shalom,

Rabbi Mo

I built an ark.

Don’t worry!  It is not the 40 days and nights of flooding kind of ark!  It is the hold-the-Torah-scroll, house-our-sacred-story kind of ark.

Before I tell you more about it, there is more to it than simply, “I spent my month off in the garage making sawdust.”

I approach my sabbatical time with gratitude, reverence and intention.  It is not vacation.  It is time that you entrust me to use to help me be a better rabbi.  For me to realize that goal, I have found that I need to spend this gift of time quite purposely to tend to my physical and spiritual well being.  It is not so easy, however, to always distinguish between the two … they integrate and flow into the other.

Our Shabbat morning service begins by honoring these ways we live and engage in the world.  One prayer acknowledges the part of us that is physical and the following prayer acknowledges part of us that is spiritual.  The one that follows lists the ‘miracles’ out there in the world we may encounter as physical/spiritual beings. With this model in mind I went about some internal and external crafting …

I designed this month of sabbatical time for some ‘inner’ crafting and ‘outer’ crafting – with the awareness of how the physical and spiritual often inhabit the same moment and place,    I carved out my mornings to focus on ‘tending to the spiritual.’  Knowing, for me, that the physicality of running, the motions of tai chi, the stretching of yoga and the breathing of mindfulness meditation would be important parts of that tending to spirit.   I had started on the ark project late last spring, and it seemed to fit into the general heading ‘tending to the physical.’ Knowing, as well, that the experience of woodworking has always been settling and grounding for that not-so-physical part of me.

Back to the ark that I was building …  Micah has two beautiful arks.  We use one that was built about 12 years ago (crafted by Cliff Whitehouse) for use in Park Hill Congregational Church’s large sanctuary.  It now resides in our Mikdash/Chapel.  Temple Micah has used our other Ark for 35 years.  When Micah sold the building it owned in 1977, they could not take the ark because it was built into the sanctuary.  So, a new ark was built by Denver craftsman, Tom Pearce, for Temple Micah.  We use it now when we use Park Hill United Methodist Church’s large sanctuary for High Holydays, B’nai Mitzvah and other heavily attended services.  Not only is this ark beautiful, but it is also big … and takes at least 3 or 4 people to move it.  When Micah lived at Park Hill Congregational Church this large ark was moved regularly for more than 2 decades from one sanctuary to the other before the 2nd ark was built for use in their large sanctuary.  The ark that resided in the PHCC’s main sanctuary had a nice little corner behind the pulpit to be stored.  When we moved to PHUMC we anticipated having a similar arrangement, but the layout and demands of the space are different.  We have had to reinstitute the the practice of moving our big, beautiful ark on and off the pulpit after each time we used the large sanctuary.

With deep appreciation for the way the large ark has served us the past 4 decades, I carefully  began designing a new ark that would work in our new space.  It needed to be an ark that would fit in the doorways and hallways of this great old building and move more easily up and down stairs and in and out of the sanctuary.

Beyond its functionality, I wanted a piece that while needing to be smaller, still felt like it was filling that large space.  The design of the doors is intended to have a sense of movement or even emanation – to address that sense of space and draw attention to the Tree of Life that emanates from within the ark.  Each side is constructed of four panels to suggest the 4 worlds or realms in which we reside, as taught by our mystic sages. I used two kinds of wood – maple and cherry – to reflect this dynamic interplay of body and soul, physical and spiritual.

The ark in any synagogue can be a safe and beautiful, practical and inspiring place to keep our Torah scrolls.  Beyond its utility to hold the scroll and artistic expression, the ark symbolizes something beyond the physical.  The ark we see in the sanctuary or Mikdash holds the physical scroll of the Jewish sacred story. . Each of these points us toward another ‘ark’ … the ‘ark’ that is the lives we craft that serve as a sacred encasement of our individual sacred stories.  The ark is not just a holy, secure and pretty place to hold the Torah scroll … it reminds us to also to honor the ‘stories’ that fill our lives.  I hope that as we use this ark to house our Torah scrolls, we will also be mindful of the sacred stories that reside in the holy ‘arks’ that we craft each and every day of our lives.

Listen to Rabbi Mo speak with journalist David Sirota on his podcast about finding hope in these darkening times.

It is not usual that I warm to being acknowledged as anybody’s “2nd favorite something”.  If my kids told me I was their 2nd favorite parent or my parents told me I was their 2nd favorite son, I do not think I would treat it as a gift.  However, each time I get to see or spend some time with Pastor Eric Smith – and he greets me with “Well, it’s my 2nd favorite rabbi!”  I welcome his greeting with warmth and treat it as high praise.  (If you are still having a brain freeze, Pastor Smith’s #1 rabbi would be young man they call Jesus!)

Sadly, after June 4th I will not be hearing Pastor Smith’s unique greeting around the halls of our shared sacred space.  Pastor Smith has been assigned  by his Bishop to a new ministry at Arvada United Methodist Church.  I understand the ways that the Methodist denomination works and assigns its spiritual leadership … I understand that Pastor Smith feels called to his new community … I understand that our friends at PHUMC are excited for the next chapter in the life of their community, and I am still sad about this change involving our partner, my colleague and friend.

Pastor Smith began his tenure at PHUMC while Temple Micah was in the midst of planning and preparing to move in to PHUMC.  Even though he was not a part of the initial stages of decision making, Pastor Smith welcomed us with an open heart and open mind.  He had faith in the personal, professional and communal possibilities and opportunities for such a relationship.

That unique relationship grew as our two communities, and as he and I, got to know each other.  We began by celebrating our covenant in a manner that was rich and meaningful.  After the shocking election result in the fall, I was able to lean on you to find words to share with my community when I could not find my own.  We more deeply evolved our interfaith collaborative by connecting with Imam Ali at Masjid Taqwa.  We shared and vision of making our shared sacred space a Sanctuary and began the process of making that vision a reality.

Pastor Smith’s presence has been an important part of my time in our new home.   In him I have a trusted colleague in the building who knows and instinctively understands the wonderful peculiarities of being a rabbi or pastor or minister.  He has been a source of support, perspective and laughter.

Another phrase that I have heard often from Pastor Smith over the past 4 years is – when asked, “How are you doing?”, he would reply – “It is good with my soul.”  Well, my colleague and friend, I cannot not tell you where you rank on my favorite pastor list.  I can gratefully tell you that it has been very good with my soul to have had the chance to share this space (both physical and spiritual) with you.  Thank you, Dr. Eric Smith, for being a part of my and my community’s life for these past 4 years.  Kol Tuv, may it continue to be good with your soul.

3 Adar 5777 – 1 March 2017

Dear Micah,

It feels as if the world I left before I began my Sabbatical is a very different one than the one I found upon my return just a few weeks ago.

The new leadership of our country alarms, outrages and frightens me.  The Orwellian manipulation of and mistrust of truth taunts and terrorizes us  Under its shadow, friends in our Park Hill neighborhood – the Masjid Taqwa mosque – fear leaving their homes unless to meet their most basic needs.  Under its shadow, Jews have been threatened and publicly denigrated in the United States of America at a rate that seems unprecedented for my lifetime.  Under its shadow, the institutions that have for almost two and a half centuries protected and catalyzed this great American experiment are mocked, belittled and in danger.  This worry for the political, moral and spiritual direction of our country permeates and encumbers our daily lives.  

I often wonder what it was like to be a rabbi during another tumultuous time in our country’s history, the Civil Rights movement.  I wonder if I would have had the clarity of purpose and courage of conviction to act as so many of my ecclesiastical ancestors did at that time.  I always assume — since we study in hindsight about what they did — that the ‘what?’ was clear to them at the time.  However, as I find myself in this historical moment,  I am revisiting that assumption.  I wonder if those ecclesiastical ancestors of mine felt the dissonance between the clarity of what was wrong and the ambiguity of what to do about it.

During my Sabbatical and since my return I have been asking myself: What is my role as your rabbi in the midst of this particular historical moment?  What is the role of Temple Micah? As I have considered and reflected on these questions, the wisdom of the great Hassidic leader, Rabbi Zusia spoke to me.  

One time Zusia came to his followers, his eyes were red with tears, and his face was pale with fear.  He told them: “The other day, I had a vision. In it, I learned the question that the angels will one day ask me about my life.”  

His students were puzzled. “Zusia, you are pious. You are scholarly and humble. You have helped so many of us. What question about your life could be so terrifying that you would be frightened to answer it?”

Zusia turned his gaze to heaven. “I have learned that the angels will not ask me, ‘Why weren’t you a Moses, leading your people out of slavery?’ … or ‘Why weren’t you a Joshua, leading your people into the promised land?’ … “They will say to me, ‘Zusia, there was only one thing that no power of heaven or earth could have prevented you from becoming.’ They will say, ‘Zusia, why weren’t you Zusia?'”

In these anxious days, the best that any of us can do — as individuals and communities — is to intentionally, vigilantly andwith integrity be the best of our selves.  

What does keeping Zusia’s wisdom in mind — and striving to ‘Be Micah’ — look like for Temple Micah and for its rabbinic leadership?  

Temple Micah needs to be Temple Micah.  That begins with an understanding of who we are.   Fully cognizant of our gifts and blessings, we will continue to strive to do what we do with excellence.     Fully aware of our limitations, we will collaborate with those in our community with the skills and experience to confront injustice, intolerance and ignorance.

Micah being Micah means … Doing Justly.  Part of ‘Zusia being Zusia’ entailed Zusia teaching, helping and impacting his world.  Part of ‘Micah being Micah’ entails the same things.  With a healthy understanding of our strengths and limitations, we will continue to involve ourselves in the actions that seek to make the world a better place,  We will also seek out the methods and partners that will help us address the challenges we face in the current political reality.

• Relationships with PHUMC and Masjid Taqwa mosque have become important resources for me and our community in the last few months.  Pastor Smith, Imam Ali and I are committed to further developing our relationships.
• Our budding connection with Project Worthmore has also emerged as even more significant in the last few months.  Supporting their work with Colorado refugee families is a constructive response to national efforts that threaten refugee families.
• Organizations like Together Colorado and the Interfaith Alliance actively advocate on various political issues.  I am meeting with their leaders to learn even more about what they do and how we may lend our support to their efforts.
• Pastor Smith and I are also studying the possibility of declaring our shared facility a political Sanctuary.  We are inviting both of our communities to learn more and discuss the nature of this commitment on Sunday, March 12th at 1:00pm.

We will continue to act justly as long as when we leave the friendly confines of our own sanctuary and community, we still encounter injustice in our world.  We invite you to participate and collaborate with us to help us continue doing so.

Micah being Micah means … Creating Meaningful Moments.  Temple Micah strives to create meaningful opportunities that ground, clarify and even inspire us to go out and live our lives in a fashion that brings justice, compassion and peace to the world.  You and I need Micah to provide moments for us keep praying and reflecting and studying so that we remember who we are and what we want to do.  We will continue to strive to create meaningful moments that allow us to be grateful for our blessings, see clearly our challenges and have faith in our ability to face them.   I invite you to participate and collaborate with us to help us continue doing so.

I am scared, worried and outraged.  I am also grateful, hopeful and inspired.  May we stand together sharing and experiencing these feelings and face this historical moment with grace, determination and courage.

B’shalom,

My grandma knows everything. I do not remember what age I was when I first began announcing this piece of information to the world. I do not remember the moment, either, that this realization first struck me as discernable and true. And yet there it was – beyond the lens of the more experienced (and perhaps jaded) eyes of a parent seeing her or his own parent; through the simple, noble and definitive vision of child – in the way that a grandchild can connect, understand and appreciate the wonder of a grandparent – it was quite clear to me: My grandma knows everything.

It is now four times that I have been blessed to prepare for Sabbatical during the month of January. In each of the past three years and in this time of preparation I find myself buoyed by a strong sense of gratitude for this gift of time and for the relationship between Micah and me from which the gift originates. 

When it seems that evil reveals itself within our most vulnerable places, Love is still our most powerful response. When it seems that we have lost control over the instruments of violence, Love is still the most powerful weapon in our arsenal. When we cannot understand – with our minds or our hearts – how or why the innocent must suffer, Love is still our most powerful idea. When we lose our balance by the undertow of our radical vulnerability and the precarious nature of life, Love is still our most powerful anchor. When we doubt if we can truly construct a world that just, compassionate and peaceful, Love is still our most powerful tool.

We are grateful that we are able to look in the rear view at the recent exchange of violence between Israel and Gaza – let us be thankful that both sides were able to agree to at least a temporary cessation of hostilities. We still feel emboldened by the way the Jewish community stood together during this crisis. Across emails, facebook pages, twitter feeds, synagogue and organization websites and within the walls of these organizations we saw, heard and responded to the call to ‘Stand Up’ WITH Israel … exactly as we should have done so.

As people in Jewish households who have deep connections to this sacred place, our connections to Israel call upon us to ‘Stand Up’ WITH Israel as its inhabitants face constant and threatening rocket fire from Gaza … to ‘Stand Up’ WITH Israel as it faces the challenge of needing to work with those who challenges Israel’s very legitimacy … to ‘Stand Up’ with Israel as the country’s leadership struggles to make the difficult decisions between policy and politics; diplomacy and combat, life and death.

And yet, because we so deeply value Israel for all that which it stands … not only must we ‘Stand Up’ WITH Israel, we must endeavor to – chastened by the highest values of our Jewish tradition – ‘Stand Up’ TO Israel. The latest exchange of violence did not occur in a vacuum. There is a deteriorating political and social context to which Israel holds its share of accountability.

As people in Jewish households who hold deep connections with this sacred place our connections to Israel call upon us to ‘Stand Up’ TO Israel and speak frankly and honestly about social and moral repercussions of the continued placement and expansion of the Separation Barrier … to ‘Stand Up’ TO Israel and speak frankly and honestly about the continued development of Settlements in spite of the way that development impedes on future possibilities for reconciliation and peace … to ‘Stand Up’ TO Israel and lovingly remind our Jewish sisters and brothers about the vision of acting as sovereign power in a fashion that promotes and supports justice and freedom for ALL of its inhabitants.

As I struggle with the most effective way to walk this balance between standing up WITH and TO, I am deeply grateful for the perspective and wisdom of my friend, Dalia Landau. Dalia is one of the protagonists in The Lemon Tree and the heart and soul of Open House – a peace education center – in Ramle, Israel. Dalia lives and embodies this struggle of standing up WITH and TO with sincerity and grace. In the aftermath of the recent exchange of hostilities, she wrote to me:

“I am sure that you are as relieved for the cease fire as I am. It is tenuous. Most of the reserve soldiers have not yet been sent home. Please continue praying for all of us. Once again the saddest thing is the mutual projections of evil on each other, the competition over how much destruction we have caused each other. Well, nothing new. This is what war is about is it not? Today, there is no such thing as settling a conflict in the battlefield, is there? The whole country is the field … At such times our work at Open House becomes so much more challenging. Suspicion grows, feelings are on edge. At such times, it becomes very difficult to bear disagreement or another point of view. Minority voices are hardly tolerated … How are we ever to be able to create confidence building measures without people getting to know each other? This is the question that bugs me continuously … Now a whole generation is growing in the West Bank and Gaza that has not met Israelis except as soldiers or bomber planes flying over their heads.”

Each year on the 9th day of the Hebrew month of Av (Tisha B’Av) – sometime between late July and mid-August the Jewish tradition pushes us to look directly into the face of tragedy, destruction, pain and loss. Tisha B’Av is not a very widely observed Jewish ritual … perhaps Jews get enough opportunities to relive and remember the tragic and painful moments in Jewish history throughout the course of the year. Perhaps the destruction of the First and Second Temples are no more than intellectual abstractions to human beings living twenty to twenty five centuries after these historical moments. This year in spite of the lack of regard that most of us have for Tisha B’Av, its spirit intrigues and challenges me …

This year on Tisha B’Av (it was the 29th of July) – we Jews of Colorado found ourselves looking directly into the face of tragedy, destruction, pain and loss … as all of Colorado reacts and strives to come together after the tragic violence at the Aurora movie theater on July 20, 2012. Many of us Jews may not have even been aware of the observance, yet less actually observing the rituals of Tisha B’Av – reciting from the book of Lamentations or fasting. And yet, we all have been spending the days before (will spend the many of the days following) Tisha B’Av engaged in the tribulation of confronting the occurrence of and the nature of tragedy in our midst.

Using the lens of Tisha B’Av is helpful to me as I try and face the horrific consequences of these violent and reprehensible acts. Like most fellow Denverites and Coloradans, I was not there in the theater that night. I do not know anyone who was there, was injured or killed. I do not even begin to approach an understanding of the physical and emotional trauma, pain and suffering of those who were in theater or the loved ones of those who were in the theater. Still, I am absorbed by a morbid curiosity of what happened and how it happened that night; I am filled with (and ask with others) essential and profound questions about fate, human nature, evil, suffering; I am confronted by feelings of fear, doubt, anger and anxiety. I was not there – I am not traumatized because I was present or mourning a death of someone who was murdered or figuring out how to support those who survived, but I feel on some level that it happened to me, to all of us. Why do I have that perception and what do I do with it?

The template of the Tisha B’Av observance guides me in responding to these questions. Tisha B’Av acknowledges the way that tragic events touch, impact and potentially change the entire collective in which these events occur. The tradition does not have us act as if we were there – to in some way artificially or selfishly take upon ourselves the raw terror of experiencing that pain, loss and trauma. It does not blur the line between victim/survivor and concerned bystander/fellow community member. It allows, encourages, those of us who were not there – to question and to feel the raw realities that such tragedies force us to confront. Our tradition allows us the sacred, yet burdensome task of examining our human condition and the society that it has created. Our tradition nudges us to sit face to face with our stark limitations and our profound possibilities – and the consequences of realizing or not realizing each.

Why does Jewish tradition allow us and force us to feel and consider such things? From the appropriate emotional and historical distance, the important and difficult process of engaging with these moments grounds us to our deepest values and clarifies our broadest visions. This process pushes and prods us to intensely pursue justice and peace; to actively choose life; to be fully present in each loving encounter.

While we continue to support and nurture those whose lives were so violently changed in that movie theater that night, let us – with the appropriate distance – fully engage in this sacred and burdensome task. Let us feel those emotions – fear for our safety, angst in the realization of the actual randomness of life in the context of illusory order; impotence in our stark realization that we are so limited in being able to protect our children, our partners, our loved ones and even ourselves. Let us ask our questions on sin and forgiveness; on the ethics and morality of gun control and capital punishment; on the essence of human nature; on the nature and presence of evil; on the pain and suffering of the innocent and the righteous. May the experience of such emotions and our response to such questions help us comfort the bereaved, care for the injured and push and inspire us to create a just, loving and peaceful place in our world.

It is usually on days like this one – clear, crisp, sunny with the beautiful sight of the mountains beckoning that I feel great pride in living in Colorado. However, as bright as the sun is shining and as majestic as the stunning purple mountains may be this morning … the wattage is not as high this morning as I reflect upon the cowardly and bigoted decision made by the Colorado House of Representatives. The news is not news at this juncture – the Colorado House of Representatives refused to even allow a vote on a the latest bill asking for equal rights for ANY two human beings – regardless of their gender — to enjoy the same rights and protection that our government exists to preserve and protect. I am sad, ashamed and angry.

The words – no the wisdom and the call – of tradition that come to mind are simple ones from the prophet Micah: Do Justly. Love Mercy. Walk Humbly. I think the justice and the mercy explain themselves in the case for the Civil Union bill … don’t they? Justice seems to point toward providing equitable treatment to all law abiding, tax paying citizens in this great American society. The fact that we question whether one group – on account of their sexual orientation – to be worthy of equal treatment is nothing short of prejudice and bigotry. No matter how such a rationalization is cloaked in the finery of religious belief or political expediency – it is no different that limiting another’s rights because of the color of one’s skin, the type of sexual organs on one’s body or the way one believes or does not believe in a deity.

And if justice does not get us there, then it would be time to jump on the train of mercy. Love your neighbor as yourself. (Micah 6:8) What is hateful to you, do not do to others. (Talmud, Shabbat 31a) Remember the stranger for you, too, were strangers in the land of Egypt. (Leviticus 19:34) How can anyone of us who has been touched by successful or unsuccessful marriages (which I am pretty sure which include all of us) not have the greatest respect and compassion for any two human beings who endeavor to roll up their sleeves and try and create a marriage, a family and a home? It is one of the most challenging and rewarding paths that we human beings have the opportunity upon which to walk. Our state is merciless when it is able to say to some of those human beings who have engaged in this sacred task: No, you do not have the legal right to visit your partner when they lie sick and possibly dying in a hospital. No, you do not have the legal right to help determine the care this loved one in these scenarios. No, no, no … but yes to the rest of you.

Humility is the charge for us to know our place in the larger webs of lives and life in which we dwell. Our lawmakers work for us. Our lawmakers place – both liberal and conservative – is to make their best efforts to bring considered, relevant and constructive laws to our representatives for approval. While each of these employees of ours must be expected and encouraged to stay true to their personal and political values – humility is about understanding one’s place. It is about knowing where ‘I’ end and the larger entity – which is Civic Colorado – begins. It is about maturely allowing that larger web to take thoughtful, sincere input from that ‘I’ and then letting that web follow its own course. And no matter whether you sit on the right or the left or somewhere in between, humility is ultimately about trusting – dare I say ‘having faith’ – in the larger web that is Civic Colorado and living with those decisions – especially when those decisions do not reflect your sincere and thoughtful perspective.

Do Justly. Love Mercy Walk Humbly. Six words that I find refuge in as I look to return the wattage of Colorado and all of its glory to its genuine strength.

I am thinking a lot about food at the moment … not because I am hungry as I write this post, but because I am in the midst of a twenty-one day cleanse. Under the guidance of Jen Nassi – my holistic health coach – Renee and I are participating in an exhaustive eating exercise. During these three weeks we are eliminating many foods that are common to our everyday diet and adding foods that will help our bodies remove toxins and work more efficiently.

For the first time in a long time (albeit collaterally) I am observing Kashrut. No meat, so no worries about animals’ cud chewing proclivities or the cleft-ness of their hooves. No dairy, so there is no cheese to put on that waiting hamburger (that I cannot eat). The cleanse maintains no ideological connection to these emblematic rituals of the Jewish Dietary laws. However, I believe that my cleanse and the spirit of Kashrut are profoundly connected. The traditional Jewish expression of eating properly has evolved into different sets of dishes of milk and meat and butchers who know how to kill and animal in a certain manner – there are other paths to follow from this original practice. Kashrut or Kosher means ‘fit’ or ‘proper’. In that sense the command to keep Kashrut can be understood as a charge to to produce and consume foods that are fit and proper – fit and proper for my body, for my spirit and for the world around me. Even though I have followed the traditional sense of Kashrut before in my life, during these three weeks I think I may be keeping kosher – eating ‘properly’ – in a way that I have never done before.

The idea of what is fit and proper for me (and the world) physically and spiritually contains a wide range of considerations. For example … I pay close attention to how my body reacts and works quite differently when think so differently about the food I ingest. I observe how often I associate a choice of what to eat and when to eat it by an emotion (a treat for a long run or because I have had a long day).  I notice the resources (time, money, intellectual) needed to make these choices. I pay attention to how what I choose to eat connects me to (Renee, with whom I am sharing this exercise) or disconnects me from (spending time with family and friends over meals, drinks, etc.) the social interactions that sustain me. I reflect upon the way I contribute to justice, compassion or peace for my world around me because of the way my food is produced and distributed.

I invite you to take a day to keep ‘kosher’ … to simply pay attention to the ‘fitness’ of the food and drinks you choose to ingest for a day. Don’t even worry about changing anything you eat because of the attention you are paying to your food … just consider what you put into your mouth for the day. Why are eating or drinking in that moment? What physical need does what you are choosing to eat or drink fulfill? (Hunger, exhaustion) What spiritual need does what you are choosing to eat or drinking fulfill? (Anxiety, loneliness, celebration). How will the nature of this particular food that you are ingesting affect your body and its function? How did the production of this kind of food affect other living things? (Animals, human beings, the environment)

There is great potential and even power in every single choice we make … from the obvious life-changing choices to the mundane choice of everyday life that lose our attention and their meaning.