Itzik's Well Podcast - Irwin Keller

In Isaiah 49, God says, "I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands." Our palms are less doers than holders. They hold, caress, bless, soothe. What does it mean to be etched on the palms of the Divine? How does it feel?

There is something underneath the mythological words of Isaiah – and that is hope. That even after tragedy, after life-changing tragedy, there is still a possibility of joy and blessing ahead. That even conquerors and despots will fall, and something of value will outlive them.

I’d like to suggest that there is room for so much more than what the American ethos has shrunk to. There is room for reckoning. Reconciliation. Reparation. There is room for education. Critical thinking. Art. Poetry. There is still room for greatness.

Some sages say angels’ names are not fixed. That an angel’s mission is its name. And thus its name is always changing, depending on its task. And so, angels, now I ask you. What is your task right now? What is your name?

On Shabbat HaGadol we read a line from Malachi in which we envision the heart of parents turning to the children, and the hearts of children to their parents. How do we create meaningful inter-generationality in our own communities and lives? How do continuity and change dance together? AUDIO PODCAST.

I had not been excited about going to the Reconstructionist convention. In this divisive climate I have felt rather isolated among rabbis, I didn’t know what it would be like to be in a rabbinical scene. Spoiler: it was good. (Audio.)

All these feelings – the fears, the desire for things to be quiet, for Jews to be quiet, this whole tangle of ancestral anxiety inside of me  – it all comes into view at Purim time when we read the Book of Esther. This ancient book of ours is a symphony of anxiety. 

This is what I want for all of us — Jews and everyone else living in this time — to survive the terrible and to keep flourishing through it . . . (Audio)

So much is demanded of us now but I, for one, have been feeling inert, immobile. Tu Bishvat reminds us to have patience – the sap will again rise.

In this week's Torah, Joseph is thrown into a pit, bullied by a gang of brothers, because of his difference. And also this week Sutter Health has similarly tossed to their fate our transgender children, doing the bully's work even before the bully asked them to do it. How will we respond?

Gone a dozen years now, the flavor of my grief has changed, and memory is sweet.

In Elul, they say the King is in the Field. Kind of like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. Audrey Hepburn is in the Field (Audio) Or Read it in Print

We offer our teshuvah not out of obligation but because we love. It is because I love you that I want to be clean with you. It is because I love this world and the people in it that I want to make good on all the ways I have failed it and them. 

It seems I had to come to Ireland to be reintroduced to the prophet Elijah. For more than a week this summer, I have been on retreat at a Catholic hermitage in County Sligo run by a tiny community of Carmelite sisters and brothers. The Carmelites see the prophet Elijah as their spiritual inspiration and as the founder of their order. They call him Saint Elijah, and I happened to be there on Saint...

Perhaps in 2025, in this tug-of-war between loyalty and morality, resistance is the true shape of patriotism. Reflections on the 4th of July. Reflections on Fourth of July themes. Tug-of-War (Audio) Or Read it in Print

What if Torah tells it wrong? What if wandering in the desert was not a punishment but a chosen path for a people who did not want to become Pharaoh? An alternative take on Shlach Lekha. This is the audio.

It feels like there is so much being lost right now. But we still carry those things in us. Like Levites carrying crates of holy regalia. A drash  about Parashat Bamidbar. (Audio file.)

The house is a kind of living being – our individual houses and the one we all share. How do we help it release its past and present suffering? This Old House – Audio Or Read it in Print

How do you tell the story of Purim in a time when we are already activated, when we are beginning to feel the breath of danger on the backs of our necks? Audio: Telling Purim Or Read it in Print

I wake up every day in fear. But I am not in any personal, imminent danger. This is the conditioning of my past and the dread of the future. But I am not the captive of my conditioning, and dread is not destiny. In this moment I am strong. In this moment I am needed. May I be of use.

Coming back from rabbi jamboree in Colorado, I realize that even in what seems like the loneliest places, we are not alone. (Apologies for mechanical noise on the recording. Oy, what did I do wrong?) Loneliest Road (Audio Podcast) Or Read it in Print

Even if we believe that the Divine is all around us and in us, it's hard to shake loose the metaphor of verticality. What do you do to ascend to celestial heights? And how do you pour that back into the everyday?

We are at a crossroads: one path moving forward and one circling back. Thankfully, we are very good at circles. Some thoughts coming out of Sukkot, Hoshanah Rabbah, Shemini Atzeret, and Simchat Torah.

Spending a month alone in Worms was an unresearched, romantic idea. It wasn't what I was looking for. But maybe it was what I needed.

In this moment of crisis, we need to let things arise and evaporate, leaving us unburdened enough to do the work of peace. Dew Season can suggest how.