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?

When someone aggravated him, my grandfather (birthday today) would say, Er zol khapn a kalte vane – “he should take a cold bath.” Maybe that's not bad advice. Maybe we could all use more cold mikveh plunges – so disproportionately healing to the soul. Read more in my article in My Jewish Learning's Recharge Blog.

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.