The question came before the answers ever could.

As a child, I could not reconcile two things that seemed to belong together: a God who called Israel the apple of His eye, and a people who had walked through valleys of persecution so deep that history barely found words for them.

That tension never left me. It became a search that led through synagogues and seminaries, through conversations with rabbis and ministers, through years of theological study, not to resolve the question, but to learn how to carry it. And to discover, slowly, that the question itself was carrying me.

Now, at sixty-five, living on a remote island at the edge of the world, I have the time and the quiet to commit what I have found, and what still remains open,  to the page.

This work draws from that search. From ancient texts and forgotten places. From the long arc of a people’s story that is, in ways I am still learning to understand, inseparable from my own.