In the Mosque: How Good, How Pleasant

On my way there it occurred to me that I hadn't thought through the question of whether I would participate in any of the prayer or just be an observer. Would I get down? When I'm in a church, I sit respectfully, I listen for points of connection, but I never kneel. But that's different - in a church it is either an image of Jesus or a symbol representing his divinity that is the thing people are kneeling before. That is a way of understanding God that I cannot share.

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Year of the Good Word

Now wouldn’t it be nice if our words had veto power? If they could refuse us if they disagree with the purpose we’re putting them to. What if I opened my mouth in anger at my kid or unthinkingly in sarcasm and found that my words weren’t even there, that they had absconded to some margarita bar somewhere on the far side of my cerebral cortex, waiting for me to chill out. Wouldn’t that be nice?

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Journeys, Symbolism and Stomach Distress

It wasn't a day of traditional shabbos. No prayers, no study, no songs around a table. Still, we rested. Tel Aviv rested. It was a day different from other days, filled with friends and fresh air and recreation. And I appreciated how Shabbat managed to disguise herself in this secular way. Shabbat, our ingenious bride, was not in her usual wedding dress but in sweats and a headband, jogging through Yarkon Park, rejoicing to be with us nonetheless. I was about to register a thought about this, but right then we saw this hilarious sign telling people to clean up after their dogs. It offered doggy cleanup bags, which it memorably called in Hebrew, sakei kaka. We laughed our heads off and whatever fancy idea I'd had about Shabbat dissolved in our Saturday afternoon mirth.

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