It took almost two years, but I finally landed at my first Red Sox game as a resident of Massachusetts. I got a call from a colleague about an hour before game time. "I got an extra ticket, Royals versus the Sox, do you want to go?" After approving it by the boss, my wife, I was on my way.
The game started out all right. During the second inning, a fellow walks over to where the four of us were sitting, and asked us if we'd join a minyan. I was a little surprised but agreed. As instructed, at the seventh inning stretch, I headed for the agreed upon location, (the ramp, not far from a beer stand) and there it began. We prayed the evening service, and kaddish was said.
I often wonder how we look to others who are watching us do our thing. Such as when I find myself praying with Teffilin on an airplane or fulfilling some other religious practice in any number of situations that must look unusual.
There is a Chassidic adage, "In the place where one's desire is, there he is to be found." Where your head is, that is where you are. Not physically of course, but conceptually.
I believe that is also true about perceptions. When one is insecure about something, his haircut, tattoo, beard (if you are me), or choice of clothing, then others perceive the discomfort. They pick up on it, instinctively understanding that something is out of place, and take a second glance. That is when they perceive the oddity that you are so insecure about. If I am not comfortable, then I’m almost begging for (negative) attention, since I am not aligned with myself. My heart and my being are in two separate places.
A person who is confident in his manner and stride and about what he represents gives off an aura of security that doesn't force others to do a double take. If my heart is in the right place, and I am secure about what/who/where I am and what I'm doing, then I am truly there, and nothing is out of place.
Just before his death, Moses begins to review much of the Torah's laws and stories. He rebukes the people for their failings and iniquities, and enjoins them to keep the Torah and observe its commandments in the land that G‑d is giving them as an eternal heritage, into which they shall cross after his death.
Without taking the literal message of Moses out of context, perhaps we can extend what he was saying. He was enjoining them to follow the Torah and observe its commandments since that is their true identity. It is your essence, part of your identity like the native land you inhabit. And if you are to survive and be successful, you need to first be at peace with who and what you are.
Back at Fenway. We prayed the whole evening service, perhaps ten minutes or so, and no one even batted an eye. We were doing our thing, what we were supposed to, and no one felt like we were out of place. "In the place where one's desire is, there he is to be found."
The Sox came back from behind and took that game, and the whole series for that matter. Go Sox!
Burger King Parking Lots Know Me Well bh
When it's time to pray mincha (afternoon prayer), and I'm on the road far from home, I look for a well-populated rest stop like those run by Burger King at which to pray. I do neither know or care if I get looked at. I have never been approached by a stranger asking me what I was doing.
Once on the way back from New York with a friend, while I was praying mincha I happened to look up and saw a woman a few yards from me crossing the island between the two rows of cars. She had her cell phone on her and with it she was talking to a friend or relative. I was talking to G-d with my siddur (prayer book) in my hand. We were both communicating, it struck me: she with her cell phone, I with the timeless words of my prayer book.
When you want to talk to G-d, you don't need modern technology: no band widths, no live streaming video, no HDTV, not even anything remotely electrical. All you need is your mind, your hands, and your heart linked together with one clear purpose.