New Year 5770

So there were these three Jews, one orthodox, one conservative and one reformed. And they were sitting around on Rosh Hashanah evening. “Joe”, I says, “What did your rabbi talk about in his sermon?”

Joe thought a minute, smiled, gave a sheepish laugh and answered, “I forget”. So much for orthodox oration.

Vicki was next. “My rabbi missed his son. You could see it in his face…”

“Mom,” I says, “The sermon?”

“Oh that. He said Israel and Jews are being threatened by Iran and that Iran is evil. And that we should try to do more good deeds.” Timely, touching on the political, with a cloying aftertaste of conservative ethics.

It was my turn to give a report of this year’s reformed rabbi’s message—usually the punch line in any decent Jewish joke. I always try to fall asleep during the sermon. This year I almost did, twice. But each time I was about to drift off I caught a couple of words that sent me into an AllieMcBeal/Scrubs-like imaginary funk. The rabbi said that we should make a strong and consistent effort to know each other. He said that one of the greatest expressions of friendship and love is to be able to look at someone and say, “I get you”.

Well, that did it. I found myself in a Hollywood producer’s shabby office with Harry Zimm (Gene Hackman) sitting behind a desk in front of a window, blinds open, lights shining into the eyes of his guest, Ray “Bones” Barboni (Dennis Farina).

Harry: “Ray, look at me.”

Ray: “Why don’t you take a look at this?”

You know the rest. Harry got the crap knocked out of him. You see, Ray wasn’t really in the mood to bond emotionally.

And then somehow I find myself between John Travolta and Robert Deniro. John’s got his arm around my shoulder and says, “I’m wi’chu”.

“You’re with me?” I ask.

“No, I’m wi’chu. I know you. I get you.”

Then there’s the rabbi again. He’s saying that there’s a lot of things we don’t talk about that we should talk about because talking about them will make us both feel better and bring us closer together. But that it’s hard to be the first one to bring it up but that we should. And that whenever a shepherd lost a lamb and that lamb returned, the shepherd could take a seed and put it into a sack, but only if he really knew that lamb well. Hey, don’t laugh. This is reformed Judaism and we don’t take things literally. It’s all metaphor. We might as well be Freemasons. Good. Now you don’t have to read Brown’s The Lost Symbol. I did. Don’t waste your time.

I have learned after many years, that when talking to my mother, I should keep it short and keep it simple.

“Our rabbi’s sermon was the same as last year’s. He never talks about politics. He just tries to get us to be better people.”

Not a bad sermon. Happy and Healthy New Year to all.

American Idol?

Serena Williams, in her post-meltdown news conference, revealed that one of her idols in tennis is John McEnroe. I was shocked and a bit unsettled. Did she mean the tennis brat famous for his immature tantrums, tirades and threats? “Are you serious?” Did she even know about the young father and Hollywood hobnobber who was no innocent bystander to his druggie wife’s cocaine laced high life? Or did she mean the divorced father of three who overcame accusations of controlling and bullying and bravely took custody of his children? She probably does know that he has profited greatly from tennis, becoming one of the richest in the sport. And we all see and hear his commentary during the US Open where year after year he shows himself as the most insightful analyst out there. I loved John McEnroe most as a fiercely competitive and gifted winner on the tennis court. Even when he lost a match, as he did to Bjorn Borg in arguably the best match ever played, his intense effort and racket artistry made him and us, his awestruck audience, winners. So Serena, which John is your tennis role model?

Serena was being pressured by great tennis from Kim Clijsters. She was down a set and behind 6-5 in the second. She was on serve and had already fought off four match points. She was hitting the ball hard and deep, but the balls were coming back just as hard and deeper. Several of her forehands failed to clear the net. Her serve was keeping her in the set. She was acing Clijsters on the ad court with a flat, wide 112 mph bomb. At 15-30 she stepped up to the baseline, fired her second serve and was blindsided by a line judge’s call, “foot fault”. And she lost her cool. F this f that, down your throat, code violation, point to Clijsters, game, set, match. Do you call a foot fault at a crucial point in a marquis US Open match? Yeah, you do. Why? Well, not only because it’s the rules. Just as much, because, just maybe, it was the unrelenting pressure from Clijsters that told Serena she needed to hit a really good serve. That subconsciously nudged her toe forward to touch the service line. That ultimately made her snap and not default, but lose to Clijsters who did not slide into the finals but won.

So Serena, which John do you want to emulate? You’re already the most gifted women’s player out there. How about the John who has turned his life around and looks back at his past with a smile of bemused embarrassment, the rewards of a champion, the pride of a father and looks ahead every day, richer for that past, to be a good person and live life. Do you have what it takes? It’s in your court.