She whom the Mad Priest calls That Kaeton Woman tells a touching story of being drawn into a Shabbat service at a nursing home. It’s a must-read.
Excerpt:
As I was leaving her room, I came upon a most amazing site. An orthodox Rabbi was heading into the Dining Room – his seven children and wife in tow – immediately recognizable as orthodox by his beard, fedora, tzitzit or prayer tassels, tallit or prayer shawl and teffilin or phylactery (I think I spelled everything correctly. If not, you should excuse me. I am ‘goyim’ – non-Jew – after all.)
Curious, I followed him in and saw the dining room filled almost to capacity, with others lining up to enter. As I looked around the room, I recognized many there who were not Jewish. The Rabbi saw me standing at the door and said, “Come in, come in. Welcome!”
“Good morning, Rabbi,” I said as I smiled.
“We’re about to start the Shabbat,” he said, “Come!”
He noted the look of hesitancy and surprise that crossed my face as he glanced at my clerical collar and the cross on my neck. “It’s okay,” he said. “Do you know someone here? Would you like to sit next to them?”
“No,” I responded, more curious now than either hesitant or surprised.
“Still, come in. It won’t take long before everyone knows everyone.”
His wife came to my side, their seven small children came too, like baby ducks following their Mama. “There’s plenty to eat. Come,” she said with a beautiful smile.
“Let me guess.” said her husband, “You’re Rabbi is the one from Nazareth. Jesus, right?”
“Right.” I said.
“Ah, and a good, orthodox Jew he was. He knew Torah and the Shema. But, you know that, right? You have studied his teaching?”
“Yes,” I said, surprised if not taken aback.
“Then,” he said, “only one question remains: Are you hungry?”
“A little,” I offered sheepishly, “Yes, I suppose I am.”
“Ah, good! Wonderful! Come, come! Ruth! Ruth! Make a place for our guest. There, can she sit next to you? There you go,” he said as he seated me next to Ruth, adding to the rest of the table, “Isn’t this wonderful? The whole family is gathering from near and far and we are going to share a most wonderful meal in the name of our most abundant God.”
(Hat tip: Mark Harris at Preludium, who says, “Elizabeth’s small story points a way: becoming family again requires practice, practice, practice. That and eating together. Read her piece. The sooner the better. Before Good Friday.”)
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