My career path wasn't always clear, and certainly not straight, but I recently discovered that I can draw a direct line from my current role (and my entire worldview around gender conditioning and Judaism) to the guiding Jewish values of my upbringing. 

The Book of Proverbs instructs us to “speak up for those who cannot speak...to raise our voices on behalf of the vulnerable and downtrodden.” (Proverbs 31:8-9). The individuals who make up America’s prison population are isolated, vulnerable, and voiceless.

Frankly, I was skeptical about attending services online – but it was the occasion of the yahrzeit (anniversary of death) for my wife’s brother, and this was our only option for respecting her wish to recite the Mourner’s Kaddish with our Jewish community.

Each year on Passover, we ask “Mah nishtanah,” “Why is this night different?” This year, though, we know why: Pesach 5780 is simply unlike any other.

In recent weeks, we have found ourselves on a journey for which we have felt totally unprepared. Like our ancestors, we lack maps and familiar signposts (though we do have Zoom!) to help us get oriented in our new reality.

During this surreal period, many of us are trying hard to keep sadness and anxiety at bay, and that’s important. It's equally important, though, to remain connected to our feelings. Each of us is giving up so many things this year – and for me, the hardest thing to lose is our Passover seder.

Meet Cantor David Berger, the cantor at Chicago’s KAM Isaiah Israel and ReformJudaism.org’s past Ten Minutes of Torah commentator for the Book of Leviticus.

I run the Squirrel Hill Health Center, a nonprofit federally funded community health center in Pittsburgh. Many people have asked me what it feels like in the trenches. The answer? We feel very much alone.