Abuse

The story of passover includes discussions of slavery and oppression. While we would love for this to be only a discussion of the past, these topics are still part of our lives today.

When we talk about being delivered from Egypt, we use the word Mitzrayim, which has been translated as a narrow place.

What are the narrow places we know from our own life experience? Are we still in a narrow place and longing for deliverance?

No topic of conversation is forbidden at the seder table.

God, full of compassion, dwelling as uplift and within, grant perfect rest under Your sheltering Presence, among the holy and pure who shine with heavenly splendor, to the soul of our dear one who has gone to his/her/their reward. May the Garden of Eternity be his/her/their rest. Please, Power of Compassion, shade him/her/them in the shadow of Your wing forever. May his/her/their soul be bound in the bonds of eternal life. May Adonai be his/her/their inheritance, and may he/she/they rest in peace. And let us say, Amen.

Clip source: The Shomer Collective

Ruach means spirit, wind, or breath. It’s the invisible force that moves through and animates all life. Ruach is the divine energy that connects us to something larger than ourselves, the gentle current that stirs our souls and reminds us that we are alive, changing, and part of creation. It’s the breath we take before speaking truth, the wind that carries our prayers.

When the world feels heavy, return to your breath, the quiet pulse of life that asks nothing and gives everything.

Find a comfortable seat or lie down. Inhale deeply for four counts. Hold your breath for two. Exhale slowly for six. Repeat this pattern, letting your breath lengthen and deepen. Imagine with every inhale, light enters your chest. With every exhale, weight leaves your body.

This simple practice reconnects you to your most ancient rhythm. Breath is both physical and spiritual, a steady reminder that even in stillness, you are alive and connected.

What You Receive: Calm. Clarity. A quiet conversation with your own aliveness.

Your yadaim, or hands, hold stories, with every act of care written into their skin.

This ritual invites you to honor the sacredness of what your hands do each day: hold, soothe, feed, lift, clean, create. Take a small amount of oil or lotion and warm it between your palms. Close your eyes and feel the life pulsing beneath your skin. Whisper: Blessed are these hands for the tenderness they give, for the comfort they bring, for the love they carry.

Let your fingers trace one palm, then the other. Feel the ache, the warmth, the quiet energy. If you like, stretch or shake them gently, releasing tension.

Your hands are extensions of your heart, the bridge between intention and action.

What You Receive: A soft moment of appreciation for yourself and your body. The reminder that care is not only something you give, it’s something that flows through you.

Hineni means “Here I am” in Hebrew. In Jewish tradition, it’s a word of presence and readiness, offering yourself fully, with openness and attention, to what life or the divine calls you to. Spiritually, saying Hineni is an act of surrender and connection, a sacred acknowledgment that you are awake, available, and willing to show up with your whole heart.

Begin where you are.

Before you can care for someone else, you must arrive within yourself. This ritual is about presence, a simple returning to your own heartbeat before you reach for another’s. “Hineni,” the Hebrew word for “I am here,” is less about geography and more about soul. It means showing up imperfectly, fully, and honestly for this moment.

Find a quiet place, or pause wherever you are. Feel your feet rooted into the ground beneath you. Breathe slowly. With each inhale, whisper softly: Hineni. With each exhale, feel the weight you carry settle gently into the earth.

What you may notice is subtle: a stillness beneath the noise, a reminder that before doing, there is being. This ritual teaches you to meet the present moment as it is, not fixed, not judged, simply noticed.

What You Receive: The peace of arrival. The spiritual grounding to begin your day with clarity and calm.

Caregiving is sacred work. It asks more of your heart, your patience, and your spirit than almost any other calling. You hold, you comfort, you anticipate, you endure. And in giving so much, it’s easy to forget that you, too, deserve tenderness and care.

This collection of rituals was created as a gentle companion for those who care for others: parents, children, partners, professionals, friends. Each ritual is a doorway back to yourself: to breathe, rest, connect, and renew. These practices draw inspiration from Jewish rhythm and spirituality, not to teach or prescribe, but to offer an ancient language for your very modern heart.

You don’t need to be religious to use them. You just need a willingness to pause. To remember that tending to your own spirit is not selfish, it’s what allows you to keep showing up with love.

Take your time with these rituals. Try one each week, or move through them as you feel called. Let them build on each other, layer by layer, until they weave a tapestry of compassion for others, and for yourself.