Friday, July 20, 2012

Saints



First Born Prince went with his father to volunteer at a homeless shelter last weekend.  The project is organized by our temple and the service hours are required as part of his Hebrew school education.

The Professor kept forwarding the e-mails from the ‘Hunger Project” coordinator directly to First Born Prince with notes like, “This is your responsibility.  You need to figure out what you need to do, what to wear, what to bring, etc.”

I stayed out of it.  I loosely knew their shift started around 8:00 a.m. on Sunday morning and did my part by suggesting an early bedtime Saturday night.  I figured the ritual of becoming a man should encompass the whole shebang.

When the Professor got up that day, he was pleasantly surprised to find FBP had set his alarm, was already dressed and ready to go.

FBP had the job of serving juice at meal time.  If you’ve ever spent time around homeless people, you know that sugar, in any form, is a hot commodity.   He was very busy filling and refilling their cups for them while they were eating.

“So one guy holds up his two paper cups and tells me, ‘I want more apple and grape juice.’  I took them and filled one up with apple and one with grape and brought them over to his table.  The man looked into the cups, made a face and yelled, ‘I wanted half apple and half grape in each one!’  Then the other homeless guy sitting next to him, looked over and yelled at him, ‘Awww, don’t be such a dick!’”

He was laughing as he told the punchline.  He smiled at me and said, “It was fun, Mom.”

I am thankful that my son sees the light and joy in his experiences.  There is no perfect formula for passing on the values you want for your children.  I don’t think First Born Prince would have spent time in a homeless shelter, serving people as a 12-year-old, if it wasn’t one of the requirements for his Bar Mitzvah.  Helping those in need is part of a Jewish man's commitment to God.  After FBP turns 13 this fall, it will be his choice whether or not he continues to fulfill the commandment.

As a kid, I memorized a framed prayer we had hanging on the wall in the downstairs guest bathroom, where apparently I spent a lot of time.  I don't think my mother's intention was to give me a blueprint for thoughtful living in that way, but it pretty much sums up my deal:

The Prayer of Saint Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

No comments:

Post a Comment