Posts by Rabbi Nicole Guzik

It’s just like riding a bike. The phrase reverberated through my mind as I biked the short distance from Santa Monica to Venice Beach. Wobbling from side to side, I slowly gained confidence as I tried to remember the simple skills needed to maneuver a bicycle. (It has probably been over twenty years.) And for a few short yards, all was fine until other people decided to take the same morning stroll. With each additional person on a bicycle, roller blading, walking or biking on the path, my courage waned and I struggled to gain control of the bike. It’s…

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In the middle of the night, I found myself startled awake. My grandmother, now deceased for several years, appeared in my dream. She didn’t speak. But as other members of my family sat in rows waiting for a performance to begin, she slipped into the seat next to mine, smiling with her bright, pink lipstick hued lips. Dressed head to toe in a beige and black pantsuit, there was no mistaking who this was. My grandmother, of blessed memory wanted to be right by my side. I am a firm believer that the soul continues well past the demise of…

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We took our first family road trip to Zion National Park. Among the incredible views and natural wonders, the fan favorite was a phenomenon known as “Weeping Rock.” A quick ten minutes up a steep ascent leads you to an odd site: a mountain of stone…crying. Droplets of water fall on your head and over and over again, the question is asked: why is the mountain crying? The rangers explain that water has slowly eroded sandstone sitting above Weeping Rock. The water hits seemingly impermeable stone, forcing drops out the sides of the mountain’s wall, causing nonstop crying. In other…

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Erez and I recently spent a wondrous week at Camp Ramah. We taught, schmoozed with campers and counselors, and breathed in the soulful air that only camp provides. One morning, we decided to take a walk into Ojai. Erez runs marathons. I do not. Erez runs miles throughout Los Angeles. I do not. But hill after hill, curve after curve, I was committed to finishing the walk. Getting closer to the half-way mark, directly ahead was the following sign: ROAD CLOSED. Nearly crying, I blurted out, “We are not turning around.” For a few minutes, we debated making the trek…

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Summertime often includes sun-drenched days filled with ice cream dripping down chins, lounging at the beach, and regular routines thrown out the window. And in our home, summer usually means…swimming lessons. My kids take to the water with their distinct personalities. One swims with ease, barely looking over her shoulder to see if we are watching. Another kid jumps in, screaming with glee…but can’t swim a stroke. And finally, one child sticks to the steps, content to stay glued to the side of the pool. That is…until this year. The kid who never leaves the pool’s edge looked at me…

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This week, I had the honor of joining a bride and her family as she immersed in the mikvah. Her grandmothers, mother, aunt and sister showered her with blessings, invoking memories of the past and hopes for the future. The ceremony was poignant, personal, intensely moving. But I wasn’t prepared for what happened as soon as the bride returned to the waiting room. The bride’s mother placed in her hands, a mirror. A large, glistening, silver mirror. The mother whispered to the bride, “Look at yourself. Just look.” I learned it is a Persian tradition for brides to look into…

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This week was our middle guy, Zachary’s graduation from preschool. I bawled as I watched him fiercely hug his friends. My eyes teared up as we compared photos of Zachy at age 2 and now, Zachy at age 5. And I could barely hold it together when his teachers placed a tallit over his head and blessed him. But I wasn’t crying because of an ending. I was crying because of the gratitude I feel in Zachary’s ability to reach this day. A few years ago, I told a friend that I wished “time would stop.” And her response: “No,…

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Pushing through the Clouds It seems like that kind of week. Looming deadlines, last minute issues, trying to get everything done before the end of the school year. A feeling in the air of mixed anticipation and exhaustion. Friends, family, and community members expressing the same sentiment: A little bit of June gloom has seeped into life and there is a natural wistfulness for the sun to shine through the clouds. Sometimes, our mental and spiritual quotient is spent on Monday and Shabbat feels very far away. The question becomes, “Where does one refuel?” How do we sustain our spirit…

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I forgot how to play the game of chess. This week, someone refreshed my memory: my seven-year-old daughter. Annie challenged me a few nights ago. She set up the board, reminded me of the names of the pieces, and we began to play. She slowly went through the rules, explaining which ways the pieces could travel and where and when I would lose if my step was unwise. I know chess is about tactics and strategies, a game in which every move is calculated and well-planned. But I couldn’t help but wonder: how much of chess is moving the pieces…

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Ten years ago, Erez and I took our honeymoon in Maui. As part of the week’s excursions, we drove the road to Hana. As explained, the road to Hana includes many breathtaking views, waterfalls, spots to pause and recognize God’s beauty. But repeatedly, the guidebooks warn: The road to Hana is not about getting to Hana. The road to Hana is about enjoying the journey. Erez and I didn’t heed the warning. We were anxious to see what Hana was; where the road would end. And we were deeply disappointed. Instead of really taking in each sight, we rushed the…

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