A Brief Ceremony

"Are you Jewish?" The speaker was a yeshiva student, who approached me last week as I was about to cross the street, on my way home from my morning walk. Barely old enough to shave, this fresh-faced kid was dressed in the black suit, white shirt, and black hat of his sect, the Lubavich Hasidim. He stood smiling at me tentatively. Next to him was another, similarly attired young student. It was the first day of Sukkot, a seven-day harvest festival when, according to Leviticus 23:40, we are commanded to take an etrog, a date palm frond, myrtle, and willow and to be joyous in the presence of your God for seven days.

When I told the boy that indeed I was Jewish, he asked me if I had yet fulfilled the commandment. "No," I said. He then handed me a tightly closed palm frond flanked by branches of willow and myrtle and asked me to recite, after him, the appropriate prayer in Hebrew, which I did. Then his friend handed me an etrog, a fragrant citrus that looks like a large lemon, and, after I recited another prayer in Hebrew, instructed me to hold it with the palm, myrtle, and willow and move them about in the fashion that he mimed for me. Again, I complied, and then wished them a happy holiday.

Pairs of these boys patrol our neighborhood at every High Holiday season. Earlier, at Rosh Hashana, when our son was here on a rare visit, they approached us in the park and asked us if we had heard the shofar, a primitive musical instrument made of a ram's horn, that is blown as part of the Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur services. After we recited the appropriate blessing in Hebrew, we listened to a young man struggle to coax the appropriate blasts from his horn.

I used to resent these proselytizing attempts to bring me back to traditional observance, especially when carried out by representatives of such a religiously far-right group, and I would either pass them by in stone-faced silence or, after telling them that I'm Jewish, I'd inform them that I was unwilling to perform whatever obligation they were promoting.

Whether or not it's a function of aging - these days I'm more patient about most things - I now accept these boys' offers with good grace. It pleases them when I do so, because from their point of view they're performing a good deed. As for me, I figure that I'm increasing the sum of happiness in the world, without harming anyone (unless it's harmful to encourage them, as some might claim) and with hardly any effort on my part beyond suspending disbelief during my cooperation in a brief ceremony.