What if the gospel didn't come from a pulpit, but from a soup kitchen? What if resurrection looked like leftovers, communion was a potluck, and the second coming arrived as a missed call at 3:11 a.m.? My Rabbi Is Dead is a modern gospel told in 30 parables of silence, soup, and street corners. Set in a laundromat-turned-church with no cross and no steeple, this story follows a community learning to live without their Rabbi, who taught them how to see God in grocery lists, grief circles, and garlic lentils. This is not a story about miracles that defy gravity. It's about the kind that refuse to give up. Written in the spirit of the Beatitudes and baked with equal parts laughter and lament, My Rabbi Is Dead is a quiet invitation to become the body of Christ, one potluck at a time. Come hungry.
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