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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