fbpx
[additional-authors]
February 19, 2026

Dear all,

As we drove home earlier this week, the sky couldn’t seem to decide what it wanted to be.

The rain came down in sheets — then suddenly the sun burst through.

Moments later, the sky darkened to a dark gray, only to open again into a brilliant blue with soft white clouds.

Then it rained again… while the sun was still shining.

From the back seat Eli called out, “God, can’t you make up your mind?”

But maybe the sky had made up its mind.

Maybe it was simply holding more than one truth at once.

And I realized how often life works this way:

You can be hurt by someone and still love them.
You can believe in destiny and still choose your path.
You can want someone to live — and also pray for their suffering end through a peaceful death.

We are living in an increasingly polarized world that demands we choose sides. Either/or might feel clean. Final. Certain.

But life — and faith — rarely operate that way.

Both/and is harder.
Both/and stretches us.
Both/and asks us to live without easy resolution.
Both/and is where compassion grows.

When we reached home, we ran from the car through the downpour and arrived completely drenched. At first we groaned. And then we laughed.

Because in a single moment in time, we held discomfort and joy together.

With love and Shalom,

Rabbi Zachary R. Shapiro

Did you enjoy this article?
You'll love our roundtable.

Editor's Picks

Latest Articles

The Sweet Song of Survival

There is a second form of sacred survival: to survive as a nation. And that too takes precedence over everything.

Print Issue: Iran | March 5, 2026

Success in the war against Iran – which every American and Israeli should hope for – will only strengthen the tendency of both leaders to highlight their dominant personalities as the state axis, at the expense of the boring institutions that serve them.

In a Pickle– A Turshi Recipe

Tangy, bright and filled with irresistible umami flavor, turshi is the perfect complement to burgers, kebabs and chicken, as well as the perfect foil for eggs and salads.

Who Knows?

When future generations tell your story and mine, which parts will look obvious in hindsight? What opportunities will we have leveraged — and decisions made — that define our legacy?

You Heard It Here First, Folks!

For over half a decade, I had seen how the slow drip of antisemitism, carefully enveloped in the language of social justice and human rights, had steadily poisoned people whom I had previously considered perfectly reasonable.

More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.