The task is to keep remembering this as we get older and to allow room for both of those sacred processes: the faithful handing down of the teaching and the reshaping of it to fit the needs of each emerging generation.

When I face myself, I know that all this pre-occupation with doing is somehow an escape, a poor substitute for real living, so busy and yet so empty. Real living means remembering who I am, allowing my heart to well up with love for You, which is to say for all of being, as fully and freely as my lungs fill with air.

Y-H-W-H is with me always. When I say that I am a religious person, that is what I mean.

The problem is whether there is room for me in the tabernacle of my own heart.

True prayer, like great poetry, requires a delicate balancing act between speech and silence.

What happens after prayer is the most important question to address to your life as a praying person.

Your day, and your deeds, should be geshmak funem davnen, they should smell and taste of the aroma and flavor of your daily prayer.

We ask ourselves to enter into authentic relationship with the words of the siddur. We invite them not only to speak for us but also to speak to us,

Prayer, then, is about listening as much as it is about speaking. “Let your ear hear what your mouth is saying!” the rabbis teach regarding the proper way to recite the shemaʿ. If “prayer itself is of the essence of divinity,” the whole process of prayer is a holy one, taking place inside us and around us.