More on: prayer

Silence is a deprivation all its own. It is a vast desert where one’s chitchat and puffed-up sense of self go to die. By fasting from myself, I gave my soul a fighting chance to pass through the empty desert and enter the distant garden. As I slowed down and listened to the poetry of Scripture, my soul found the rhythm of being beloved. It was lush, green nourishment. The word of God was a feast all its own.

You have / followed the weak line / of your heartbeat

She seeks out materials rife with metaphor—Jewish ritual objects, found objects, repurposed garments—then transforms them with paint, cement, fire, and text, with the goal of sparking dialogue, increasing empathy, and engaging in difficult conversations.

I was trying to pray. How I yearned to pray! But I was both fascinated and repelled by this man’s presence.