Right now we are living with communal grief, if not also personal grief. It is hard to see our holiness, but it is there.
Perhaps we will remember this time by the actions we took, not the time spent in our homes. Perhaps we will measure this time in phone calls, in virtual connectivity, in mask-clad smiles.
Why does God allow suffering?
When we look up at the vastness of the universe, does that make us feel very small, or does it make us feel connected to something so much larger?
What happens in our bodies and in our brains when we join together in a communal liturgy, where people sing or dance or celebrate together?
What is the interplay between the things that make us human and the things that make us superhuman?
If humans aren’t self-contained units, what’s our responsibility to the other elements that we’re connected to?
How we can teach so many of the complicated nuances of genetics to laypeople, clergy, students, and others who may be new to the big debates?
How does play help us understand the rules of the game for both science and religion? How can they help us better understand and create more joy in the work that we do?
“Gam zeh yaavor”—this too shall pass, whether “this” is a sorrowful or a joyful feeling or situation. This phrase can apply in a myriad of ways if we let it.