A letter from a rabbi in their late 70s

August 2, 2026

Dear,

I am writing to thank you for making possible the extraordinary experience that I, along with six other rabbis from around the country, had because of the support of the Sheri Eckert Foundation.

As I approached 50 years in the rabbinate (I was ordained in 1976) I became aware of a growing spiritual emptiness, perhaps because of the constant pull of obligations from my congregation that got in the way of my own spiritual growth, or perhaps the lack of resources I had to reignite the spark of Divinity that had drawn me into the rabbinate in the first place. A year after my retirement I heard of a program organized at Johns Hopkins for clergy that would reflect on the impact of psilocybin on the way they pastored their congregations. I leapt at the opportunity to participate because it appeared to offer a safe container for what would be, for me, a new adventure. But unfortunately, I was rejected. It seemed that the study was only interested in clergy who were currently pastoring a congregation and would go back to that same congregation. I made my best case that they reconsider, since as a retired rabbi I still have a deep connection with my congregation and with other Jewish communities that evolved out of my congregational work. But I was not accepted.

When I heard about the work Shefa was doing from some colleagues who had been in that study, I jumped at the chance to be a participant. It was the gift I had longed for: a safe container that would give me the chance to explore parts of my soul that had been closing down. I was intrigued by the thoughtful planning: while the actual ceremonies with the magic mushroom were central, there was even more time dedicated to preparation and to integration. And with the support of your foundation I was able to afford to participate.

The cohort of seven rabbis included Orthodox, Conservative, Reconstructionist, and me, Reform. We came from all over the country, women and men, younger and older (me!). Though our ways of practicing Judaism were very different, what brought us together wasn’t the size of our communities or our standing in the Jewish world but rather the longing we each had to reawaken our sense of gratitude and wonder. Each of the facilitators brought a profoundly Jewish heart and an astonishing ability to really listen to us. Julian Jaramillo, the Ecuadorian Miriku, led the ceremonies with skill and wisdom that he channeled from his ancestors. The combination of the Jewish and the Chachi traditions was amazing.

My experience on the magic mushrooms was mind boggling and heart opening. For the first ceremony I chose a relatively low dose because it was my first experience of any psychedelic, plant based or synthetic. I saw colors I had never seen before. I went outside to see the forest close up and I actually saw the trees and flowers growing. I felt safe because of the skill and gentleness of the facilitators, as well as all the work we had done in advance to prepare for the ceremony. The second day I asked for the biggest dosage possible. That day the experience was overwhelming. I felt a sense of immense gratitude for the life I had been gifted and for the community of friends and family that had accompanied me throughout my life. I actually became a little girl again in my childhood bedroom, playing with my girl cousins, looking out the window to the house across the street where my best friend lived. I saw my parents, both of whom had died over the past ten years, and got to thank them for loving me unconditionally. And my brothers and my grandparents, and even the two-year-old sister who had died before I was born. I had never “met” her before. The journey continued throughout the different stages of my life: middle school, high school, college, my semester in Israel on the kibbutz, my rabbinical school experience in Israel and then in the US, my first job as a Hillel director, my years running a civil rights organization in LA, and my years as a congregational rabbi. I was actually there, really present with so many of the people who had been part of my life. I got to thank them and to receive their gratitude. I spent time with my beloved late husband, and was grateful to learn from him that he has encouraged me to continue to move forward to new adventures.

I stood up as the journey continued, supported by one of the facilitators. As he held me up I asked him to dance. And we did, twirling around with me screaming in delight “I can dance! Look at me, I am dancing!” And then: “And listen to me!” I (who never thought I could carry a tune) was yelling “And I can sing! Listen, I can sing!” I was ecstatic. And I felt a joy I hadn’t felt for a long time because of the crushing sense of despair about the world and my inability to manage all the pain my congregants were sharing with me and expected me to make everything better. I feel as though the journey enabled me to know that I can hold both joy and pain, celebration and loss, and even learn something from the gifts each present to me.

There is so much more to say. Perhaps one day we’ll meet and I can learn more about how you came to understand that this journey would be transformative not only to individual clergy but also, through them and the cohorts that follow, a journey that really could change the world.

With so much gratitude,

The writer is a rabbi in their late 70s, ordained in 1976, and was a CLRF grant recipient and retreat participant in the summer of 2026. Shefa, named in the letter, is the retreat partner that hosted their cohort of seven rabbis.