Reflections

Reflections for living, grieving, celebrating, and becoming

— with Rabbi Jerid

Welcome.

This space is a place for reflection—on living and grieving, on celebration and change, on becoming who we are over time.

Some reflections here will draw from Jewish tradition: Torah portions, holidays, and cultural wisdom. Others will arise from pastoral moments, chaplaincy work, or the quiet questions that surface when life slows us down. All of them are offered not as answers, but as companions—words to walk with rather than conclusions to arrive at.

This is not a space for belief statements or certainty. It is a space for meaning-making, honesty, and presence. Wherever you come from—religiously, culturally, or personally—you are welcome here.

New reflections will appear over time, sometimes in writing, sometimes in video. This one will remain here as an open doorway. The newest reflections will unfold just below this welcome—moments along the path.

I am glad you are here.
Rabbi Jerid

We Love You Too, Rabbi

On Sunday, 28 June 2026 | 13 Tamuz 5786, I had the joy of marching with Bayview in the Seattle Pride Parade.

I carried a simple sign that read:

This Rabbi Loves You.

I knew the words mattered. I hoped they would be affirming. I hoped they would offer a small message of care, especially to those who have been wounded by religious communities or told that they had to choose between being fully themselves and being loved.

What I did not fully expect was the response.

Again and again, people read the sign and called out, “We love you too, Rabbi!”

Some smiled broadly. Some cheered. Some reached out for a wave, a laugh, or a brief moment of connection. And some faces changed in a way I will not soon forget. Their expressions softened. Their eyes filled. Some seemed to be holding back tears.

In those moments, the parade became more than celebration. It became pastoral care in motion.

I do not know the stories each person carried. I do not know what words had been spoken over them in the name of religion. I do not know who had been rejected, excluded, shamed, silenced, or made to feel unsafe in sacred spaces. But I know enough to understand that for many LGBTQIA+ people, religious language has not always sounded like love.

So I carried the sign as truthfully as I could.

Not as a performance.

Not as a slogan.

Not as a claim that one sign could undo years of harm.

But as a small, visible offering:

This rabbi loves you.

This rabbi sees you.

This rabbi believes your life is worthy of dignity, joy, safety, and blessing.

As people called back, “We love you too, Rabbi,” I found myself becoming emotional. Their words felt like a blessing returned. I had hoped to offer a glimpse of love and healing, but I also received one. In their faces, their voices, and their tears, I was reminded how powerful it can be when love becomes visible.

Jewish tradition teaches that every human being is created b’tzelem Elohim—in the image of God. From a Humanistic Jewish lens, I understand this teaching as a profound claim about human dignity: every life carries worth, every person deserves honor, and no one’s identity should be used as a reason for rejection or shame.

At Pride, that teaching was not abstract.

It was embodied l’dor v’dor, from generation to generation: in the elders marching, the young people cheering, the chosen families waving, the allies showing up, the drag artists shining, the parents crying, the clergy present, and the thousands of people insisting that joy itself can be a form of resistance.

I am grateful to Bayview for the opportunity to march together. I am grateful for the people who received the sign with such tenderness. I am grateful for every “We love you too, Rabbi,” that came back toward me from the crowd.

I carried a sign with four simple words.

But the people along the parade route reminded me that sometimes simple words, offered with sincerity, can reach places we may never fully know.

May every person who saw that sign know it was meant for them.

You are loved.

You are seen.

You are worthy.

And your life is a blessing.

With you through life’s moments,

Rabbi Jerid

Previous reflections can be found here.