I was staring at his face. Mesmerized and in deep wonder as
to how such long hair can protrude from his nostrils. Is it perhaps because he
is Jewish – a group of humanity generally known for their oversized schnozz.
(Barbra Streisand and Ringo Starr come to mind).
I tuned him on again. He was still mumbling, every now and
then punctuated by an “oy vey” or an “oy gevalt”. To think his whines were not
even induced by wine. Then Charlie Brown’s doppelganger stopped and stared at
me with those grey-blue eyes of his and waited for a response. I cleared my
throat in a most emphatic way – my way of biding for time while I tried to
think of some words that might appease his grumbling.
“You know that Jews are God’s chosen people, don’t you?”
He nodded.
“So, why don’t you direct your complaints to Him?” I
suggested in a most compassionate tone.
“How?” he wondered.
“Pray!” I almost yelled at him. “Tell Him how you are
feeling and ask Him to help you.”
“I don’t think He has time for me”
I was taken aback momentarily by that reply. Regaining my
composure, I then gave him a plethora of Biblical verses that directly answered
his reluctance, Isaiah 58:9 and Jeremiah 33:3 foremost among them. Even chiding
him good naturedly that he probably pictures God as an uber-busy telephone
operator unable to handle the millions of blinking lights on His switchboard. I
assured him that God is not like that. How can God be God if he has
limitations? I asked the Jew in front of me.
He was still waffling on this subject as we tackled the
syrup-laden waffles on our breakfast plates. I noticed that he dug into the
bacon heap with gusto.
“You’re not kosher, obviously.” I observed.
He nodded as the bacon was crunched heartily between his
teeth.
We relegated the religious talk in the background as we
discussed more mundane subjects like work and family as we ate. Soon the plates
were empty and the last drop of coffee was drunk. The waiter came with the
bill. My table-mate looked at me not blinking either eye. I even noticed a so
very slight shrug of his shoulders. Finally I got the tacit message. I pulled
out my wallet.
“This is on me.” I said in a slightly higher pitched voice.
He gave a huge sigh and smiled from ear to ear.
We shook hands and agreed to meet again. He ambled towards
his huge SUV where his driver was waiting. I got in my X-trail, plopped my butt
on the drivers seat and prayed that I would not encounter any heavy traffic on
the way home. Before I drove off I looked at my reflection in the rear view
mirror and wondered if I should let hair protrude out of my nostrils. Oy vey.
