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Moving Books and Finding a Friend

             Recently, I was in the process of moving some books from one shelf to another.  I don’t normally do this and when I do, I don’t spend any time looking at particular books.  That would be to go down a rabbit hole which would take  hours to escape.  Every book I have carries a story.  It is a book I have for a reason.  In most cases I wanted the book; often I bought it.  As I keep getting older, I am aware someday I will retire and have to figure out what to do with all my books.  Because I have been graced with many years now, I have many books and many of them are now fairly old, as books go.  I am not sure there is anyone else out there who will want to adopt them.

            But the story I want to tell right now is about one particular book that fell to the floor in its move.  The book, Have a Little Faith, by Mitch Albom was one I recognized but could not remember too many details.  I remember more about his earlier book. Tuesdays With Morrie, which made Albom a popular national figure.  I was surprised to see that Have a Little Faith was published in 2009.  I thought it would be older. 

            When I opened the book, it was clear I had read the whole thing.  It is a non-fiction account of Albom reconnecting with his former Rabbi, Albert Lewis, from the New Jersey hometown of his youth.  The book opens in an engaging way.  Albom says, “In the beginning there was a question.” (1)  And then an old man poses the question, “Will you do my eulogy?”  In the beginning we do not know who the old man is. 

            Soon Albom tells us in a way that shows why he is such a good writer.  Albom sets the stage with this situational description.  “Picture the most pious man you know.  Your priest.  Your pastor.  Your rabbi.  Your imam.  Now picture him tapping you on the shoulder and asking you to say good-bye to the world on his behalf.”  Without missing a beat, Albom jumps to what seems to be a totally unrelated scene.  He writes, “In the beginning there was another question.”  That is immediately followed by someone asking the question, “Will you save me, Jesus?”  Then Albom tells us, “This man was holding a shotgun.  He hid behind trash cans in front of a Brooklyn row house.”  This man was an African American pastor, Henry Covington. 

            Albom then gives us the gist of his book.  He says, “This is a story about believing in something and the two very different men who taught me how.” (2)  Referring again to the rabbi’s question whether Mitch would do his eulogy, Albom finishes the short beginning of the book with this note. “…as is often the case with faith, I thought I was being asked a favor, when in fact I was being given one.”  He did the eulogy!

            What a great opening to a book, I thought.  I was hooked.  I could not put it down and get on with moving some books.  Of course, I could not help but look at the ending.  Fortunately, I had underlined many sentences, so I was drawn to these.  The last story Albom tells in the book, the epilogue, shares an encounter he had with the Rabbi only a short time before the Jewish leader died.  Albom posed a question of his own to his Rabbi.

            He asked Albert Lewis if he had five minutes with God in heaven, what would the Rabbi want to do with the five minutes.”  In those five minutes you can ask anything of God.  The Rabbi’s first request was that God take care of his family…to “show them the way on earth.”  Apparently this takes one minute!  I was fascinated with what the Rabbi chose to do with the next three minutes.  Albert Lewis said, “The next three minutes, I’d say, ‘Lord gibe these to someone who is suffering and requires your love and counsel.’” (248)

            I was blown away that the Rabbi didn’t do what most of us would do---keep the five minutes for ourselves.  And of course, we would never see this as egocentric!  Not the Rabbi.  He gives away 60% of his time for someone else---willingly, sharing with some he likely never knew.  In this I see the Jewish leader becoming god-like.  He was compassionate.  He was gracious and thought of others.  He was not selfish.  He surely was a remarkable leader.  It shows me clearly I have some learning and growing to do.

            I was eager for the fifth minute with God, since I have no memory of reading the book.  In his final minute the Rabbi told God he had been a good person and did as much good as he could.  Albert Lewis then asked the Divinity, “what is my reward?” (249). We are then told that God smiled and quipped, “Reward?  What reward?  That’s what you were supposed to do!”    Albom concludes the Rabbi and the African American are just representatives of us all---all of humanity. 

            “In the beginning, there was a question.  In the end, the question gets answered.  God sings, we hum along, there are many melodies, but it’s all one song---one same, wonder, human song.”  Albom concludes the book with these words, “I am in love with hope.”  And I am happy this book fell to the floor.  I found a friend in the book and some friends inside the book.  I am in love with hope, too.

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