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The mime raises her hands in front of her and "whump" bangs into a "wall" in the middle of the parking lot. Ah! She has decided to hold a party beside this "wall", and appears to set out wine, cake and after lighting two "candles", she begins to dance a polka. Oh, those around want to join her, such a fun polka! She stops and shakes her head. Something is wrong. |
| Opening a bag that isn't on the floor, she pulls out a huge sharp saw. Soon the wall has a "window". Through the window she tugs and tugs at something until it is clear she succeeds at getting a huge carpet rolled full with things through the window and into the room. As she unrolls the carpet, the room fills with parts of creation - a glowing gemstone, a butterfly still in its chrysalis, a curious new baby, a huge tasty lollipop, her grandmother, and oh, what a surprise, a Torah scroll. She lifts her arms toward the sky and dances a prayer of joy. Not a word has been spoken by the mime. Only occasional whispers are heard in the crowd that has gathered. | |
| A mood change. She is remembering something.
Oh. It is not good. She begins pulling someone who is resisting through
the window. There. Mission accomplished. Oh, how sad her body language
becomes - the opposite of the polka feeling, now she is pure contrition.
She sits the person on a chair, maybe a throne. Nothing placates the new
arrival. It seems to be someone who feels deeply wronged by the mime.
They have quite a history together - she mimes going to the zoo, doing
sports, going to a game on a campus. You get the sense it must be a
brother or sister. She dances to please this person, offering flowers, long walks, free therapy sessions, to cut off her own tongue, pull out her own heart, but nothing helps. The mime sits on the hot tarmac and rocks and rocks, holding herself, silently wailing. She goes over by the wall again, hugging to her chest the gemstone, the butterfly; the lollipop gets stuck to her shoe - a comic moment to the crowd. She lifts the heavy scroll up and points it to the heavens in anguish. |
An idea. With great care she places all the glories of
creation from the great
The sun is beginning to set. The mime lowers her arms and
blows a kiss towards |
| She straps
on her backpack and walks down the road. The applause seems out of place
and something was missing in how she had offered her performance. No, not
performance, her service. What was missing? She cranes her neck from side
to side as if to find the answer lurking along the street. A man who was at the performance comes across the mime a few blocks later. She is crying large, hot, real tears. "What's wrong?" he asks. "Is there a synagogue here in New Orleans? I need a synagogue." He looks at her incredulously, "Didn't you just do virtually that? Your street show was amazing, you should be a rabbi." She looks anguished: "I just realized, the shofar was missing, the essential element. The service must be sealed with the sound of the shofar, it's a ram's horn." He sees she is very young, still a teen, most likely a college kid, maybe lost, probably far from home. "I can take you there. You see, I haven't thought of myself as Jewish in a long time and the holidays never meant anything to me. Today you showed me a way in. Let me help you find yours." |
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| Dear kind
person: I hope you're reading this and know what a mitzvah you did helping me find the synagogue on time for shofar blowing. You stayed awhile and left saying,"I have to repair something with someone. I hadn't stopped to realize it until now." I wanted to be able to thank you and let you know that the synagogue also welcomed me to their break-the-fast dinner after Yom Kippur services and organized a bus ticket back to my sophomore year at university. With great appreciation, Reb Goldie |
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