I’ve had the honor of providing a virgin encounter to over seventy people without ever having to die or visit anyone’s odd notion of paradise.
I regret to clarify that none of these cases involved any physical intimacy with the exception of the kid on the playground who punched me in the nose for having killed Christ. Or the time a questionable friend’s older brother pushed me into a closet with a lit candle and ordered me to beg forgiveness from Jesus.
I continue to be the first Jew many people have met. I don’t wear it on my sleeve, but it does tend to come out in conversation when people are trying to convert me. This is a shame because I’m a terrible ambassador for my tribe.
My faith lapsed shortly after cashing in my Bar Mitzvah winnings. I grew increasingly frustrated with not being invited to join secret Jewish conspiracies like Wall Street, Hollywood, or the tenured staff of Brandeis University. (If any member of the International Cartel of Jewish Bankers or the Elders of Zion is reading this, please contact me before my next car payment is due.)
I later passed my skepticism on to my sons by answering life’s big questions – “where do we go when we die” and “will there be hamburgers” – by explaining that Star Trek was the documentary story of our exiled people. I then told them to go outside and watch for the mothership.
“Looks like we’re on our own,” I said when no mothership arrived.
American kids nowadays are lucky that differences are celebrated and bloodied noses are fewer. They are blessed to live in the most religiously tolerant and diverse country in the world where church parking lots are full, temples have security guards, and mosques are routinely denied building permits.
The USA even had a Mormon run for president! He gave a big speech to profess his tolerance of other Christians. His opponent, our current president, caught flack for being a member of a radical church. Once elected, he took heat for being a radical Muslim – clear testimony to our open mindedness.
There may not be a mothership, but as the holiday season descends and yuletide Muzak fills our cinnamon-scented shopping malls, we can still raise our eggnog lattes in common worship of the Gods of Commerce.
May your season be joyful and the after-Christmas sales heavenly.
May your season be joyful and the after-Christmas sales heavenly.
