A few years ago, in the midst of one of those weeks when the news was utterly depressing and demoralizing, a rabbi I followed on Twitter posted something akin to “I have no idea what to do for a sermon this week. All I can think is ‘Life sucks. Shabbat shalom!’”

All year round, I don’t think I’m ever as patient as I am on a boogie board. And when the right wave comes at the right time, it’s the best feeling in the world. It almost feels like I can control the ocean! But of course the ocean will always be ready to remind me that it is vastly more powerful and that my sense of control, even in such a small way, is just an illusion.

The sheer weight and volume of the music filled up the room and all of the space between the dancers, wrapping each of us in a big warm blanket of sound and sweat.

Thank you to everyone who joined us for the Jewish Voices on Rock blog series. The series is now done and available as an archive.

When one of my dearest friends invited me just a few years ago to attend an AC/DC show, I couldn’t resist. I felt a little strange having to tell the synagogue that I had to miss a board meeting to attend an AC/DC concert.

We cannot escape our history; as a people, faces and names may change but the stories do not. For this reason, and because art imitates life, lyrics heard in today’s secular songs are informed by ancient sacred texts. In fact, I can't listen to Spotify without hearing the Torah singing back at me.

Here Comes the Sun came on. My tummy sank with the tractor-beam sound of the descending Moog at the beginning, giving birth to George’s serene voice and guitar. It’s still with me right now, and will be when I die.

If we’re praying for peace, let’s find our fervent desire for a better day somewhere in our souls. If we’re praying for healing, let us channel our terror of mortality and the grief of loss into the hope of a long, healthy life with those we love.