"Halleluja! Holy [expletive] !" -- Clark W. Griswold

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"Sing unto the Lord with the harp; with the harp and the voice of a psalm..."

-- Psalm 98

"For heights and depths no words can reach, music is the soul's own speech."

-- Anonymous

My favorite Psalm is 150, the end of the line, the final psalm (sounds like the title of a bad action flick-- Communion 4: The Final Psalm)


Psalm 150 includes the lines,
"Praise ye the Lord...
Praise him with the sound of the trumpet...
Praise him with the harp...
with timbrel and dance;...
stringed instrument;...
loud cymbals..."

In other words... start a one-man band, like Dick Van Dyke in "Marry Poppins."

("Oh, it's a jolly 'oliday wiv Moses...")

(ahem)

No, it means there's more than one way to skin a proverbial cat.

Or praise God.

You can sing, play the horn, shake your booty, or read a prayer silently.

There's more than one way to do EVERYTHING, and prayer is no exception.


This theory, and my patience, were put to the test two days ago.




Friday night, I prayed at an interesting place.

In Jerusalem, there are HUNDREDS of prayer groups every single Friday night, some in synagogues, some in homes. You walk down ANY street in this city, you will hear the sounds of davening.

Two days ago I went to a small minyan, in a basement, chairs in a big circle, about 5 drummers, people with no shoes who were playing the bongos, others were chanting and dancing like hippies at Woodstock... Phoebe from "Friends" would've been very comfortable.

I was not.

It was the Jewish Renewal movement personified.

I personally don't go for that.


I can be quite sarcastic, bitter and cynical.
I am reluctant to open up, make myself vulnerable
... hence, the humor.



Dveikut. ("dedication", meditation during intense prayer)

Ruakh. ("spirit", spirituality)

These do not come easily for me.

Once upon a time, they did...


But now... I am a cynic.


So, Friday night, I was not "into it."

For about an hour.


Until... they sang a Psalm (#98, for you sports fans keeping track), in Hebrew, in an old doo-wop style.

And they got me.

I realize, of course, that there is no "they"... that it was I... I got me (woah..., soak it in... dry off, let's continue).
I "got", I understood that you can feel what you want to feel, if you let yourself.

I closed my eyes, sang along, and (as that philosopher Eminem would say) started to "lose myself in the moment..."


And it may not have been the spirit of God.

In fact, I think it wasn't.

My own musical preference.
It was my personality.
It was my family.

When I was growing up, 1950s/60s era music was very popular in my house.
Never mind that I came of age in the 1990s...

It was something my whole family enjoyed.

And on Friday night, that music... took me back.


It was audio cassettes, birthdays, anniversaries when my brothers and I would rewrite lyrics of old 60s tunes to suit our parents, Mother's Day and we're singing "Runaround Sue" for our mom... who's name is not Sue, nor does she run anywhere... but we all like the same music.

It was the Prom scene in "Back to the Future"... my love of Bobby Darrin, Dion and & Belmonts and Danny & the Juniors.


And maybe THAT... is God.

Who can say?



Ten years ago I was on a bus with 30 of my classmates from high school, studying in Israel for the semester.

The first time our bus took us into Jerusalem, the Holiest City for Jews, the homeland for which our ancestors prayed and fought and died....

I started to cry.

And it wasn't for any of the above reasons.

I was listening to a CD.

A Green Day CD (by 11th grade I expanded a little from the '50/'60s rock 'n roll).

And it was playing the song "Time of Your Life."

(A great song, but certainly not cry-worthy)

So why was a crying?

Because the previous year, "Seinfeld" aired its final episode.
The second-to-last episode was a highlight reel, best-of show... and the last two minutes were silent, comprised of behind the scenes footage, still photos of the cast and crew... with the Green Day song "Time of Your Life" playing over it.

And hearing it again, on a bus, away from home, away from my family (with whom watching "Seinfeld" was more of a ritual than prayer ever was), my being in a foreign country...

made me cry.

Am I shallow? Materialistic? Like the characters on "Seinfeld?"

No.

I'm just a guy. Because like it or not, for myself and many other people my age, television and music have played a huge role in our lives, in our memories, and in our connections with other people.

Seinfeld and doo wop. My youth and family. Nice feelings. Nice associations.


And when I am emotionally moved... Damn, that's a nice feeling.

I feel alive.

I feel close to myself and my family.


And I feel close to God.

"Please, no fatties"

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Abraham sends his trusty servant Eliezer to Canaan to find a wife for Isaac, Abe's son
(remember, the son he nearly stabbed to death in Gen.22... well, now we're in chapter 24, and Izzy needs a woman!).

Eliezer decides he'll go to the local watering hole (literally... a watering hole, where people would let their cattle drink water), and whichever lady offers him a drink, and also offers his camels a drink, THAT is the lady for Isaac! (Gen. 24:14).


Once at the watering hole with his camels, he notices Rebekah:
"And the damsel was very fair to look up, a virgin, no man had known her" (v.16).

Damn!


Sounds good!



But Eliezer the Servant had different criteria that had to be met-- and being a sexy virgin was not part of the deal... oh, Eliezer… what a moron!

But wait! What happens next?!

Rebekah, the smokin' hot virgin, puts down her pitcher of water and says to Eliezer, "Drink, my lord... I will draw water for thy camels also, until they are done drinking" (v.18-19).


All right! A hot virgin who’s nice to animals!

Ding ding ding! We have a winner!

Why? What does this say about Rebekah’s character?

Well, it says everything.

And it reminds me of an exchange from “A Bronx Tale”, written by its star, Chazz Palmintieri. Chazz playes a “Sonny,” mob boss. Here he gives dating advice to his teenaged protégé, nicknamed “C,” :

Sonny:
Alright, listen to me. You pull up right where she lives, right? Before you get outta the car, you lock both doors. Then, get outta the car, you walk over to her. You bring her over to the car. Dig out the key, put it in the lock and open the door for her. Then you let her get in. Then you close the door. Then you walk around the back of the car and look through the rear window. If she doesn't reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in: dump her.

’C’:
Just like that?

Sonny:
Listen to me, kid. If she doesn't reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in, that means she's a selfish broad and all you're seeing is the tip of the iceberg. You dump her and you dump her fast.

Well said, Italian New Yorker mob boss!
You clearly know your Scriptures.

Wouldn't you know it! Just like Eliezer said!
Sometimes you can learn everything about a person by the smallest, simplest act of thoughtfulness…
or selfishness.

Like in the 1998 Adam Sandler vehicle “The Wedding Singer,” written by Tim Herlihy.

Early in the film, Julia (Drew Barrymore) says she always wanted to see Las Vegas from an airplane, the famous strip of casinos and hotels all lit up at night. Then, when she hops a plane and elopes with her douche fiancé, he won’t let her have the window seat! And that says it all!
He’s a douche!

And Rebekah was selfless and kind.

… and smokin’ hot!


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