OMG!

There was a week, not too long ago, when I was asked the same exact question.

By two completely different people.

“Do you believe in God?”

Now that’s a strange question to be asked, I said.

To myself.

I’ve made it 43+ years, so far.

And other than possibly a Rabbi in 5th or 7th Grade.

Or maybe both.

Or some solicitor knocking on my door.

I can’t remember being asked that question before.

I’m sure it’s happened.

But it certainly hasn’t happened twice.

In the same week.

By two completely different people.

It hasn’t happened by a friend that I’ve known for 25 years.

And then happened a day later.

By a girl I’d never met before, sitting next to me at a restaurant.

As for the answer to that burning question.

That answer would be yes.

I don’t know that I could say God is a big part of my everyday life.

Although I do say a prayer every night before I go to bed.

And I do look to the sky whenever life hands me lemons.

Before I try to make some lemonade.

Faith is a funny thing.

When you need it, you lean on it.

When you don’t need it, you don’t think about it.

When the University of Pittsburgh got bailed out by a last second foul on Saturday, I guarantee they said....

“THANK GOD.”

But when they committed an idiotic foul seconds later to lose the game, I guarantee they didn’t say....

“BLAME GOD.”

How is that possible?

Did God decide to help Pittsburgh?

And then seconds before it was over, He... or She picked up the real Universal Remote.

And moved onto the BYU game.

Same God, right?

I’m a big believer when it comes to believing.

Believing in whatever you gotta believe.

To get from point A to point B.

Especially to guide us through the tough times.

You.

Me.

Anybody.

Whatever you want to believe.

Whomever you want to believe in.

BELIEVE!

If you want to believe there is some grand master plan.

Believe it.

My friend believes it.

I got an email from him today.

He is well aware of the ups and downs in my life.

At one point, many years ago, we were very close.

Unfortunately life has drifted us apart from one another.

But thanks to a common interest in music.

And us both living on email.

We have managed to stay in touch.

Somewhat.

The last time we were together was a few months ago.

In New York.

We did a couple of nights of dinner.

A show.

Great catching up time.

And in that quality time he saw I was hurting.

So since then, his emails have come more frequently.

And more supportively.

Is supportively a word?

Well, it’s amazing what a little love will do.

His positive energy is enough to recharge any dead battery.

Even my dead battery.

And when I got his most recent email, it made me smile.

Again.

In that email he informed me...

“God only challenges those who can take it.”

Say what?

Now nothing against Bible thumpers.

But my friend is no Bible thumper.

Far from it.

I’m guessing the only other time he has referenced “God” to me was something like...

....”Oh My God she was hot.”

Not exactly Corinthians 4:27.

But he continued. 

“God has a plan.

“And it might not be our plan.”

“But he has a plan.”

Ok, keep going.

“I know that you use to work a lot of hours, more than you wanted but it was required as part of your position.”

“I know that you did not get to spend as much time as you would like with you kids and maybe this is God's way of helping you get back to really what is the most important in your life.”

“I know it is hard to argue with that right!”

“Stay strong and enjoy this time with your kids.”

OMG!

Where did this come from?

Was this a sign?

From above?

The message was perfectly simple.

The meaning was clear.

Don’t ever stray too far.

And don’t disappear.

No don’t disappear.

He ended this email, as he ends every email.

“God Bless”.

God Bless you too.

A Rabbi, A Korean and a BBQ Pork Sandwich

I won’t be winning the award for Jewish Man of the Year anytime soon.

I don’t keep kosher.

I didn’t marry in the religion.

I don’t raise my kids Jewish.

But I certainly remember where I came from.

And where our people came from.

As Tim, the converted dentist in Seinfeld told us, “it’s our sense of humor that has sustained us as a people for three thousand years.”

Five Thousand.

“Even better.”

So there I was, a few days ago, waiting at the airport gate, getting ready to head back to New York.

Minutes before we were scheduled to board, the announcement came that we would be delayed due to bad weather on the east coast.

We were scheduled to arrive at around 5:00pm, but with the delay that would mean it could be closer to 7:00pm.

Right after sundown.

Just at that moment, I saw a familiar face.

Not a familiar person, just the face.

It was an Orthodox Jewish man.  

Young.  

Probably mid-30’s, sporting the full beard.

He looked exactly like the teachers I had growing up at Hebrew School.

At least the beard part.

Maybe that’s what made me go up and talk to him.

Or maybe it was something much bigger.

(Insert spiritual harp music.)

Since the flight was delayed, we had plenty of time to talk.

And I had time to ask him the burning question.

“Since the flight is delayed, what happens if we arrive after sundown?”

You see in the Jewish religion, the new day starts when the sun sets.

And in the case of the Sabbath, once sundown hits on Friday night, you can’t do anything involving work until the end of the next day.

“Well, landing the plane is not considered work,” he said.  

“I would just have to walk home from the airport instead of driving a car.”

“Oh,” I thought.

“But today is Thursday,” he said.

“Oh.”

Shows you where my head is.   

My life has been turned so upside down lately, I didn’t even know what day it was.

But fortunately we kept talking.

It turns out the man was a Rabbi, working at a local college in a program called Chabad.

You’ll find the Chabad on many college campuses, giving Jewish kids a chance to stay connected or reconnect with their religion.

He told me, several times, that he worked in sales.

Selling “after life” insurance.

We ended up speaking for most of the 90 minutes that our flight was delayed.

It was actually quite refreshing.

He wasn’t putting the hard sell on me, but rather just chatting about life.

And faith.

And religion, of course.

Sure, there was a little sell job on his part, trying to get me to rejoin the team.

But the majority of the discussion was just two Jews talking shop.

His shop.

He told a great story about a guy who came to him when his mother was in her final stage of cancer.

The man was concerned about the fact that his mother didn’t believe in God.

So the Rabbi said to the man, “do you believe in God?”

“Yes.”

“So when she passes away and she meets God, will it really matter that she didn’t believe in God?”

“And if there is no God, will it really matter that she didn’t believe in God?”

“Bottom line, it does you no good to worry about it.”

The Rabbi had a story for everything.

And I’m guessing this was not the first time he had shared these stories.

Just a guess.

But like a good salesman, he made each one of them feel new.

I really liked the Rabbi and the conversation, even though I was watching my every step to make sure I didn’t get hooked.

I don’t know if he was on the clock or not, but I definitely took the opportunity to give him my life story.

It was either that or ride the moving walkway back and forth for 90 minutes.

I told him that I went to Orthodox Hebrew School through ninth grade.

And I told him I married a Korean Catholic.

And I told him about the time I told my dad that my girlfriend’s name was Kathy Lee.

“As in Lebowitz?” my dad said.

“Not exactly.”

It’s kinda funny what you will share with a complete stranger.

Even if he looked like an old friend.

When the conversation ended, he gave me his name and number in case I wanted to follow up.

He also told me that he was on Facebook.

Great salesman, this guy.

Then he went his way and I went mine.

He went to go sit down with his bags.

I went to the snack stand and got a BBQ Pork Sandwich.

I really enjoyed that conversation.

And the sandwich.

Happy New Year

For Jewish people around the world, today marks the beginning of the new year.

Year 5771.

Wow, do I feel old.

Growing up, this holiday was a big deal in my house.

We used to spend all day in synagogue praying.

Praying that the next year would be better than the last.

Praying that your family would be safe and healthy.

Praying that you could stay awake during the Rabbi’s sermon.

My dad was really good at the first two.

He loved going to synagogue or as we always referred to it in the Jewish slang, Shul.

We would go to Shul almost every Saturday during the year, but we would never miss the “High Holidays”.

As I’ve stated before, I’m a big believer in religion, any religion.

If it works for you.

I still believe in God and I still believe in faith and I still believe in tradition and I still believe in believing.

But as for spending all day sitting in a synagogue, that’s just not for me.

And it hasn’t been for a while.

I haven’t gone to a Shul in several years and I won’t be going for these holidays.

It’s not a protest or political statement, I’m just not going.

And it sounds like I’m not the only one.

I spoke to several of my Jewish friends yesterday and we exchanged Happy New Year greetings as we always do.

I asked if they would be going to Shul for the services and the group was split.

Some are.   Some are not.

Not exactly a Gallup Poll, but it was still interesting to me.

I was raised to be much more religious than the core of my friends.

In fact, I was raised a hardcore part-time orthodox jew.

I went to a Jewish school, five days a week, learning English, Math and Science for half of the day.

Jewish studies for the other half.

We kept a strictly kosher home, with strictly kosher rules.

All kosher foods.

Different plates for meat meals and milk meals.

And there was no getting around it.

Unless we were out of the house.

Then we did what worked.

In the Jewish religion you can’t eat shellfish.

But my dad always raved about the crab cakes in Maryland.

On the Sabbath, you cannot drive a car.

But we always drove to Shul.

On the Sabbath, you cannot turn on lights or electronics.

But we always watched a game on TV.

In fact, sports was a religion in our house.

I can remember May 24, 1980 like it was yesterday.

That was the day of my Bar Mitzvah, the day I became a man.

I spent many months preparing for that day.

Learning the words, writing the speech, picking out the food.

But sitting here thirty years later, the first thing that comes to mind from that day was coming home from the services and turning on the TV.

At that EXACT moment I saw Bob Nystrom of the New York Islanders skating around the ice after scoring the game-winning goal in the Stanley Cup Finals to defeat my Philadelphia Flyers.

It broke my heart as a Flyers fan.

But little did I know at the time that Nystrom was Jewish, not that it would’ve made me feel better.

I always loved hearing my dad's story about the time he mixed religion and sports.

He was working for the original Los Angeles Angels at the time, in the early 60’s.

The team was in Chicago on a road-trip and going through a terrible losing streak.

So bad, that he found a synagogue in Chicago where he could go to a Saturday service and pray.

At one point, as a visitor, he was called up to the stage to recite a certain prayer.

As part of that prayer, the Rabbi asked if there are any specific people in my dad’s life that he would like the Rabbi to mention.

When this is done, people will usually bring up their mother or father or children or anybody that they feel needs an extra shot.

That’s where Starbucks got the idea.

Well my dad mentioned his close family members, like most people do.

And then asked the Rabbi to say an extra prayer for the Angels.

The Los Angeles Angels.

The Orthodox Rabbi stopped cold and seemed shocked.

He informed my father that he could not do that.

“Why,” my father asked.

“Because I’m a White Sox fan."

Happy New Year, no matter what team you are on.