Prayer Pit Stop

Rambling along the highway on a spiritual journey. The monotony of the driving was as therapeutic as mediation. Barriers broken down. Just being, going with the flow, what felt right.For some,silence and inward contemplation. For others, confession and vows to change. For everyone, spontaneous soulful singing...except for Harry,("I've never tripped on communal joy. It just makes me feel self-conscious and silly.") and Gomez,("What have Ki got to sing about? A stack of unpaid bills?").

Ani ma'amin, ani ma'amin
B'emunah sh'laima
B'vi'at Ha'mashiach
Ani, ani ma'amin...

The same words they sang at Auschwitz while inexplicably clinging to their beliefs:

I believe, I believe
With complete conviction
In the coming of the Messiah
I believe, I believe...

And then they were gassed.

The bus pulled in to the full service center right off the highway in sweet home Redneckland.

Rabbi Itzie, The Merchant and The Knight, a former Israeli commando healing from the horrors of war, carried the coolers of sandwiches and fresh fruit into the restaurant. Itzie motioned to the pilgrims to take the empty tables, then he scanned the cafeteria's food offerings.

"You can soft buy drinks, bottled water and coffee but do not use any of the condiments like milk, cream or sugar. That's all that is kosher."

Gomez whispered to Harry,"Is he saying that I can't order a club sandwich?"

"He's telling you that."

"And if I do go ahead and order one?"

"Then ye shall be stoned or chanted to death:

We want Masiach now
We want Mashiach now
We don't want to wait."

Itzie and the men set down the coolers on the empty tables.

"After we finish eating, we will daven mincha here," Itzie announced.

Gomez pulled Harry aside."You mean we are actually going to pray inside this cafeteria? That's insane."

"I agree with you that, Gomez. An interesting juxtaposition."

Fifteen minutes later inside the cafeteria:

The Merchant tapped Harry and Gomez on their shoulders and said,"Please finish your lunches quickly, we're starting the prayers in a couple of minutes. The rabbi says there are some unfriendly looking men eating here, so he wants to get out as soon as possible."

"Let me just swallow the other half of this sandwich whole," Gomez said.

Two minutes later. The men are gathered together at the back of the restaurant for the prayer service. The area is clear except for a table of three scruffy rednecks looking on disapprovingly, in amazement, as if to say, What the fuck is going on?

The Merchant and The Knight gingerly approached the redneck table. "Gentlemen, we'd like to conduct a prayer service in this area," The Merchant asked. "Would you mind moving to an open table at the front of the restaurant, so that we don't disturb you?"

The rednecks exchanged astounded looks between them. They didn't have say anything. They did mind and they were pissed. The first redneck pointed to the yarmulke on Merchant's head and said,"That beanie stuck to your head?" Then he pulled out a gleaming hunting knife and licked the blade. "Maybe I should cut it off?"

"Beanie boys, ha ha ha," the second Redneck said and they all laughed.

Just the call to arms that The Knight had been waiting for since he moved to America. Flashback to Southern Lebanon, May 1982, Mission Mongoose redux. Test old hand-to-hand commando combat skills on real rednecks. Sweet. The Knight gave the first redneck a two-finger eye poke, smashed the sugar jar over the head of the second redneck and didn't have to do anything to the petrified third one who sat there, mouth agape.

The Knight pointed towards the front of the restaurant. "Nu?"

The blinded, the battered and the humbled, hobbled out of the restaurant.