The Kitchen Table | July 2025

Reflection on balistic missiles and living life.

I’ve never spent time in a bomb shelter while rockets were targeted at my house. But I have spent quite a bit of time this past month trying to fall asleep while rockets were targeted at my son, who is studying in Israel right now.

I’m going to assume that you’re aware, at least a little, that Israel and Iran recently concluded another phase of war. If not, you can take my word for it, or go to ChatGPT and get a quick summary.

I won’t try to compare degrees of discomfort or anxiety. We all experience life in our own way. But what I can attest to is that there is something terribly distressing about not knowing. I’m sure that’s something that friends of family around the world can share when they have loved ones in danger.

One of the many things that I learned this past month is that the basic rituals of life provide tremendous comfort. I might not have slept well the night before, but I still need to get up and set up the coffee pot for my wife and make myself a french press. Breakfast needs to be eaten, lunch packed for the last few weeks of school, and dinner served. Laundry needs to be done.

I found almost mystical protection in these basic rhythms of life.

There’s a lovely poem by Joy Harjo titled Perhaps the World Ends Here. I’d like to share just a few lines:

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.

The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on….

It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.

Photo by cottonbro studio

As my wife and I experienced our anxiety and relief over the past month, I realize now that my young daughter was also witnessing it, as we spoke in hushed codes and were glued to our phones more than a responsible parent ought to be. My 16-year-old son got a firsthand dose of what it feels like to worry about his brother. And all these interactions and conversations happened around the kitchen table.

So as I go into July, hoping for better times for the entire world, I’m thinking about what a special place the kitchen table is. How much I learned at it when I was a child and now how much we share together at it.

And so, I’ll keep going with the daily rituals. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention my favorite weekly ritual: the starter needs to be fed early on Tuesday, loaves shaped on Wednesday, and bread baked on Friday.

Wishing you and yours a great month ahead—enjoying what we can and sharing it with our loved ones.