I started my journey in my 20s in Jerusalem. I didn't know anything about spirituality. I wanted to have answers. I wanted to "do it right." So I learned for a full 10 years. Along the way, I acquired a lot of knowledge. But I was so busy fitting in that I didn't notice that I had departed from myself.

If God is so Great, why can't He just create a world without any pain whatsoever? I don't want people to stop talking to God. I'm not even angry at God for something terrible like cancer. I just want people to think.

Does allegiance to Jewish memory subordinate compassion toward others or elevate it? Does commitment to peoplehood mean devotion and solidarity with our own before all others or alongside them? Both voices sound in tradition, and they are both Jewish.

While we cannot erase the problematic verses about homosexuality from the Torah, we can classify them as teachings that actively negate fundamental principles of Torah, and so are no longer to be accepted as "holy" -- artifacts of the human limitations of our ancestors' quest for holiness.

As our nation reels and begins to recover from this week's attacks, our religious traditions can offer wisdom and comfort. Here are five primary sources from the Jewish canon. I hope you find some of them helpful in your own grieving and processing.

The story of endurance and eternity is heartbreaking in the wake of the Boston Marathon. There are no satisfiable answers to why these things happen. Just a raging desire to find comfort, any kind of comfort, in the face of a ghastly tragedy.

Though it has become popular in our culture for people of influence to project supreme confidence, speak in dismissive tones and dominate the "conversation," Jewish tradition teaches that there are "seven traits that characterize a cultivated individual" -- they all have to do with how we communicate.

We have made great idols of our ability to harness the resources of the earth, damming rivers, moving mountains and creating great structures that reach to the sky. While we have gained great benefits from our labor, it is time to now think of how to treat the earth with kindness.

The Omer need not be a time of sadness. The time between Passover and Shavuout can itself be transformational and full of hope.

The cleaning out of our homes should also be a cleansing of our spirits, a renewal to the meaning of our Exodus experience and the new Creation that is spring.

The Talmud states, "Truth is the seal of the Holy One." And from the Gospel of John comes Jesus' famous decree, "The truth will set you free." Spiritual development can only be built on a continual commitment to speaking the truth, which is God's signature.

Prompted by this question, I returned to the perspectives of the ancient Jewish commentators on the Passover story. I wanted to know: Were they bothered by the death of so many Egyptians?

Argo reminds us that whenever we are faced with what we perceive to be an insurmountable problem, we should not give up and reconcile ourselves to abandoning our mission or goals.

Our world may feel false. But we can accept it. And in the midst, we can create spaces and relationships where we can be real. And even when the world is at at its maddest, we can remember, remember who we truly are.

There is a fundamental shift afoot in the way social justice causes are pursued. As the gap between thought and action narrows, such that a Facebook "like" can mean participation, the means by which social justice will be realized in the world are changing rapidly.

"127 Hours" is a gripping narrative of survival. Embedded within the story are many life lessons. It encourages us to celebrate and enjoy life, to value the presence of significant others in our lives, and not to be careless and place ourselves in unnecessary danger.

Purim is the consummate Jewish carnival, and puppetry -- very much at home in the carnival -- is often considered a lowly art, if an art at all. So what can we make of lowly behavior, lowly art and inverted souls?

Religious standards of modesty govern behavior in normal, healthy interactions -- and should never be an excuse to censor educating the public on the dangers of sexual abuse.

In a recent visit to the restroom in Blue State Coffee on the Yale University campus, I was surprised to find the wall had become contested territory for a debate about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. As a Ph.D. student spending much of his time reading the Talmud, this exchange felt oddly familiar.

The eruv vividly demonstrates the dynamism of Judaism through the Jews' steady re-interpretation and adaptation of their tradition in harmony with the world around them. Yeshiva University Museum is currently presenting an exhibition, "It's a Thin Line," on the topic.

The violence in Newtown should make us think about the idea and reality of community. Do we do enough to welcome the stranger, to make the loner feel accepted? In "Chronicle," we can actually trace the evolution of a high school loner into a full-fledged murderer.

Any attempts to infuse suffering with rich meaning shows callous indifference to the heartache of fellow humans. Suffering does not leave us ennobled but broken, morose and bitter.

While I would certainly have opposed any governmental attempt to prohibit its release, it is shameful that "Zero Dark Thirty" was even considered for an Oscar -- an award, an honor, a celebration.

We now find ourselves in a liminal space, knowing that this is precisely the time in which we, together, will either effectively address our country's obsession with limitless and needlessly violent weaponry, or slide back into our typically self-focused and detached existence.