Words that Wander into Shabbat
This week, as we prepare to embrace Shabbat, I’m sharing two creative pieces. Reflecting the resilience of spirit in the face of challenges, whether from natural disasters or the lived experiences in this country.
The first piece, A Blessing in the Face of Wildfires in Los Angeles, was written as I learned about the wildfires in LA, even before fully understanding the devastation and harm they would cause. It was picked up and published by Ritualwell, and it speaks to the strength and courage found even amidst destruction.
The second, Black Women, My Sisters, is a tribute to the extraordinary resilience, beauty, and strength of Black women. It grew out of my own experiences and the conversations I continue to have with Black women navigating this world working in positions where some think they shouldn’t be. It’s a celebration of our joy, our survival, and our collective power.
As you read these pieces, may they bring you inspiration and a moment of reflection. May we carry the themes of resilience into the this Shabbat.
A Blessing in the Face of Wildfires in Los Angeles
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Ruach HaOlam,
Source of life and strength, who is with us in our struggles.
May those who face destruction and loss find resilience and support.
May the hands of firefighters and rescuers be steady and strong, bringing safety and hope in the midst of chaos.
For the families forced to flee, may they find shelter and comfort.
For the earth that burns, may healing rains fall swiftly.
Blessed are You, Eternal One, who fills hearts with courage and communities with love, even in the darkest of times.
Amen
Black Women, My Sisters
I see you.
The presidents, vice president, deans, rabbis, CEOs—
trailblazers in rooms not built for you,
carving space with grace, defiance, and fire—
I see you.
Our scars, the burdens we carry, are real,
etched deep in skin, in stories untold,
in the quiet strength that keeps us whole.
You, my sisters, are rivers, unyielding,
carving through stone with grace,
even as the world pretends not to notice
the weight you bear, the storms you face.
I see you in the moments you hide,
when the world’s gaze feels too heavy,
when your joy is labeled defiance,
and your silence mistaken for consent.
I see you in the beauty of resilience,
in the unbroken notes of your laughter,
a song that refuses to fade,
despite a world that tries to drown it out.
Our scars are maps,
not of defeat, but of survival,
proof that we are more than
what the world has tried to make us.
Dear Black women, my sisters,
you are the sun rising in the darkest dawn,
the roots of a tree that will not fall,
the love that builds bridges, the fight that sparks revolutions.
And though the burdens are real,
so too is our power, our joy, our light.
I see you. I love you.
Together, we rise.