As a kid, I stunk at baseball. I was pudgy. I was clumsy. I was scared of the ball. In fact, I stunk at all sports. This not only proved personally embarrassing, but painful for the team forced to take me as their last pick. They'd need to find some position for me where I would do the least damage to their chances for success. In baseball that position is called "deep center."
It sometimes got lonely out beyond the horizon line, but I was happy out there.
Starting out from home plate towards second base, one arrives at the position by continuing past the second baseman, then past the regular center fielder. Eventually the cries of "keep going" fade away and you turn back to face the diamond. If you can see the curvature of the earth, you've arrived. Deep center. Sure, it sometimes got lonely out beyond the horizon line, and yes, there were times I was so far away I'd miss whole innings of the game. But in truth, I was happy out there. I'd think about life. I'd sing to myself. I'd wonder how the other guys got their mitts to work so effortlessly while mine was so uselessly stiff. Best of all there was no pressure, no embarrassing errors, and no one got hurt. My kind of position.
Many years later, now a grown man, I am staying over Shabbat with my mom while visiting Los Angeles on business. I've lost a fair amount of hair, I'm even "pudgier" than before, and I'm also starting to become "observant." How that happened is a long story, but suffice it to say that after a lifetime of complete assimilation, I've now got six months of traditional Judaism under my belt, I've got a tallis the size of a bed sheet, a shiny new pair of tefillin, and absolutely no idea what I'm doing with any of it. Still, the gear is impressive and as I explain it to my mom it sounds like I really know what I'm talking about.
"You know so much," she says in amazement.
"Thank God," I modestly reply.
She tells me about the handful of small orthodox shuls in the area, but I already know where I'll be going. Adat Ari El. It's is a huge place with stained glass windows and a Bar Mitzvah scheduled for this Shabbat. That's what I wanted. After all, you can't play "deep center" in a small shul. Everyone notices you. Everyone wants to know what position you play, what your lifetime stats are, which teams you've previously played for. But at Adat Ari El with a bar mitzvah scheduled I was assured of not being called to the Torah for an aliyah and not having to worry about embarrassing myself. I could take a seat in back and enjoy a nice restful Shabbat in "deep center." Perfect.
The temperature on Shabbat morning was already in the nineties as I left my mom's apartment and began the half-mile walk to Adat Ari El. I had my dark suit on which was even warmer than normal thanks to the king-sized tallis bunched up under the jacket. But I knew I'd be there in ten minutes, and for sure they'd have air conditioning, so everything would be fine as soon as –
"-- vait. Mister...are you goink to Ari El?"
Two blocks from my mom's apartment, I was standing in front of a retirement hotel where several old women sat in plastic chairs. One of them, dressed nicer than the others was struggling to rise.
"Yes, "I smiled modestly.
"Guuut. You take me viss you." She was now halfway between sitting and standing. Easily a thousand years old, bent over in a "C" shape, with one hand clutching one of those four-pronged walkers.
"Um...well...okay, I guess. But are you sure? " I watched her take another step. We were still a good half mile from –
"-- don't listen to her," the other old ladies motioned for me to keep walking. "She's crazy. She'll never make it"
"Please...you vait," she took another step. "They hate me," she said about the others on the balcony. "They're mean to me."
I stood motionless on the sidewalk. The sun beat down. I felt a trickle of sweat beneath my blue suit, pinpoint oxford shirt, king-sized tallis. "Miss, it's getting kinda hot and Adat Ari El's a good half mile --"
"Please!" Her bony fingers clamped into my forearm. "Don't leave me."
She peered into my eyes, and whether it was palsy or iron-willed determination I felt her body shaking as she gripped my arm. "You do it," she whispered with fierce determination. "You daven viss me."
Trapped, I stood like a deer in the headlights, my mind racing desperately but now –
"-- guut," she decided, ending the discussion. "You come," she motioned to me as she turned and four-pronged toward the hotel.
I fought panic. In the 20 minutes it took for me to accompany Lillian Kimmel to her room I reassured myself over and over, "Be cool. She probably just wants you to keep her company for a few minutes, maybe mumble a couple prayers, and you're out of there. Ten minutes, tops."
Her room smelled like Lysol and dust. The shades were drawn and the Fedders QuietCool was blowing hot air. "Uh...I ah...I'm not very good at --"
"-- here. You do it." She plopped down in the only chair and handed me a worn blue siddur. "You sing. I vill follow."
Sing? I starred frozen. Who does she think I am?
"My son is a rabbi, you know."
Oh swell, I thought. That's just great.
"Go ahead," she waved a bony hand at me. "You start."
By now I was sweating through the tzitzit, the pinpoint oxford shirt and the bedspread tallis which was still bunched up inside my jacket. I opened the unfamiliar siddur and somehow found a page I recognized and cleared my throat. "Shochen ad --"
"Dat's where you're starting?!"
I stared at Mrs. Kimmel, the mother of the rabbi. "Where would you like me to start?"
"Da beginning!" The woman was actually getting annoyed. "You do it!"
I searched through the prayer book again. It wasn't like the ArtScroll siddur I had become accustomed to. Not that I understood the Artscroll siddur or knew what I was saying, but it was orderly. You march along, one page to the next either reading the English or mumbling the Hebrew and eventually you come to Aleinu. Not so with this prayer book. I'm finding poems, meditations, a recipe –
"Here. I'll show you." She snatches the book from my hand and flips to a page. "Dis is vere you start."
"Okay," I take the book back. I can do this one. "Ma tovu...o-ha-lecha Yakov..."
But now the door s l o w l y opens revealing another woman who has to be 100 years old. "Vat's diss?!" she hollers, cocking a hearing aid the size of a transistor radio.
"He's making Shabbos," the mother of the rabbi yells back.
"Vait! I get my sheitel!" the centenarian begins the process of turning and starting back down the hallway which I see is filled with even more oldsters shuffling toward me and gesticulating, "Vait!...Vait!...I'm coming too!"
Other than giving God a good laugh, what really could have been the point of this debacle?
The details of what follows are lost in a blur of heat apoplexy. The next thing I remember was staggering back to my mother's apartment looking like someone had dumped a bucket of water over my head. I had been there for hours, struggling to find the right page, to find the right words, to sing the right melody and essentially doing a pretty rotten job. Plucked from deep center and repositioned at short-stop, I bobbled, dropped, and mangled every line drive of the morning Shacharit Service. And while the elderly Bonds, A-Rods and Jeters all thanked me when it was over, the truth was it wasn't much of a game. Any one of them knew more than I did, and don't forget, Mrs. Kimmel's son "was a rabbi."
In the end I couldn't help wondering "why." Other than giving God a good laugh, what really could have been the point of this debacle?
"Did you have a nice time, honey?" my mom asked as I collapsed on her couch.
"Uh huh."
"What was the Torah portion about?"
My eyes went blank. The Torah portion. I had forgotten all about it as had my captors or I'm sure I'd still be there. "I never got that far."
My mother gave me a confused look, but I was already back on my feet. "I think I'm going to lie down for a while," I said, collecting my Chumash and starting for the bedroom.
It was nice in there. Cool and air conditioned and relaxing. I read through the Torah portion in English. There was lots to get out of it, and lots surely went over my head, but the last line stayed with me. Apparently all the men must appear before God in the Temple, and not empty-handed. Each man must bring what he can individually give in order to receive a blessing from God.
Well, I figured I brought what I had today, and it's a long walk back to the outfield once you've found your way home from deep center.
(38) sandy, August 18, 2013 5:15 PM
beautiful, moving story
I once asked the very smart director of our Hebrew school if I could sit in with the seventh graders and learn trope. She said, "No, but you can teach the class." What?? She said, "If you have to teach it by fall, you'll have learned it by the end of the summer." And so it was. I have a feeling that if you lived in L.A. you'd soon have a monthly minyan going in that hotel.
(37) Linda Harrison, September 15, 2011 1:05 PM
Absolutely Brilliant in every way. Thank you for sharing.
(36) KJ, September 10, 2011 7:21 AM
One day
As my Ashkenazi blood is making itself known and my feet are taking the first stumbling steps to being a Jew, one of my biggest fears and hopes is getting into the situation you were in.
(35) maryellen, April 21, 2010 2:00 PM
the chosen one
Great story. funny, uplifiting...why leave screen writing? for someone who says he was bad at sports you did a great job on the Jimmy V story...How about doing just one more...the Kay Yow story..I'll call you! shalom!
(34) Marcia Naomi Berger, April 14, 2010 2:10 AM
I like this article very much; poignant and beautifully written.
(33) ana, January 15, 2009 12:27 PM
inspiring
That is a truly wonderful story,Hashem really wanted you to help those ladies and you did, what a mitzvah, thanks for telling
(32) Howard Evans, January 13, 2009 9:10 AM
great storey
yasher koach how easy to do a mitzvah please keep writing as you are inspiring others to reach out
(31) koby, January 12, 2009 11:18 PM
what? you didn't lain the parsha???
yasher koach, you did big mitzvah. they'll be talking about you in glowing terms for days.
(30) Mrs.Epstein, June 4, 2007 10:09 AM
I can relate to this article!
I became observant in North Miami Beach,Florida. I shortly thereafter moved into a building similar to that one. I was the only "young" one and Jewish too! Now I live in Boca Raton and am still surrounded by senior citizens but more younger families here. I love old folks. Lots of fun and they always have interesting stories! And they always think I'm beautiful.
(29) Dena, June 3, 2007 4:27 PM
Great Story!
What a truly great story!
You are a gifted writer. Humor is a great medium for profound messages and this piece was both funny and profound.
Let's see some more articles by Adam.
(28) Gila, June 1, 2007 2:01 AM
Hashem blesses us with His mitzvos
I grew up in the valley and remember Adat Ari El. My parents were looking for a synagogue, but we landed in a reform synagogue. Now, many years later, I am an observant Jew, seeing the world through different eyes. I went to my niece's Bas Mitzvah in San Diego last October. My sister kindly arranged housing with a member of the Reform Synagogue who lived 1 mile away. On my walk home from Shabbos morning services, I walked by an upscale Alzheimers retirement community. After completely passing it by, I stopped and wondered if there were any Jews in there that I could visit on this beautiful Shabbos afternoon. I turned and went in, explanining as best I could to the staff person at the front desk, why I would like to talk to any Jew who might be at the facility. I explained it was our Shabbos, and even if the person was not lucid, I would like to visit with them. The front desk people just couldn't understand why I, a person passing by, would want to see someone I don't even know. They eventually relented, after bringing the activities coordinator to the front, who "happened" to be Jewish too. She led me to a lovely woman in a room where many residents were in the middle of a sing along. She was a friendly woman, lucid, gentle and happy to see me. Wondering who I was, I simply said that I was a fellow Jew and came to wish her a good Shabbos. We spoke about her family,what she does during the day, and, again, why I was visiting her. We held hands, shared some personal stories, and then it was time to leave. As I walked out the doors, I burst into tears. I was walking by this place and Hashem called to me to turn around and go in and connect with a fellow Jew on Shabbos. How blessed are we as Jews to have the privilege to be able to connect to every other Jew!
This is the essence of Adam's story. He was given the incredible opportunity to bring the heavens down to earth by gathering these beautiful elderly Jews together on Shabbos morning, sending the prayers of their hearts straight to Hashem. The gates of Shemayim must have been flung open to receive these precious tefillos.
May we all be blessed to continually strive to recognize Hashem's Hand in our lives and sieze the mitzvos He offers us, b'simcha.
(27) Anonymous, May 31, 2007 4:20 PM
Moved me to tears
First of all, mazel tov, Adam, on stepping up to the plate. As a relatively new BT myself, I share your feelings of incompetence. What a great way you got to see that you have what it takes. I love working with seniors because they appreciate every effort you make, even if it's not perfect. Your story moved me to tears. Thanks.
(26) lynn finson, May 30, 2007 12:49 PM
really good writing , thought provoking and witty.
This was a cool peice, different than the usual. These kind of crazy experiences are often what make us who we are. Thank you for writing it!
(25) Ben W, May 30, 2007 10:46 AM
Go Team Portland!
Hi Adam,
I was looking for something else entirely today and found your article. Great story! Miss y'all at CKI. I went to my first baseball game (Yankees/Red Sox) last year, so I understood your metaphor. :)
-Ben
(24) Yehuda L O, May 29, 2007 8:59 PM
Great to see you've become deeply "centered"!
Thank you, Adam, for sharing your talents with all of us . . . you made us all proud!
(23) Beverly Kurtin, May 29, 2007 1:07 PM
Remembering
Thanks, Adam, not for me, but for those elderly ladies with whom you shared your very nefesh.
I thought back to the time I was in the hospital after beating back my fourth heart attack. An elderly woman in the room next to me was moaning, "I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home." Over and over and over again. She never stopped. I had to go to the visitor's lounge to get some rest.
A nurse finally found me there and filled with anger she ordered me back to my room. That old lady is going to drive us all nuts. I could almost smell the bile in what she said.
I asked her to sit down. "What do you see when you go into her room?" The nurse bristled, "I see a mean old woman who wants to go home, doesn't she realize she's dying?" I said, "What I see is a little girl growing into womanhood. She had boyfriends, finally got engaged, had a wonderful wedding. Her husband of many years died, leaving her alone. She grew older, and now the only thing she wants in this whole wide world is to go home. She doesn't mean her home here, she wants to move on and her body won't let her. If you try to remember her as a young woman filled with all the hope and love you have right now, maybe you'll think differently about her and give her a break.
The nurse broke down in tears. Talk about a mess! I had tried to visit the old woman but she was so out of it that she didn't know I was there.
The next time we see an elderly person think, "They weren't always old, they used to be me and where I'm going."
The next day the old woman mercifully "went home." Instead of celebrating the end of her moaning, the nurses were all teary eyed about the way they had treated her. I was glad they had a chance to see what I saw.
Thanks again, Adam. You're not in the outfield; you're a mench who just hit a grand-slam homer.
(22) Andy, May 29, 2007 12:57 PM
it's comfortable in deep center but when you've mastered some skills it's more satisfying to be part of the action
well written and well done. it seems you cause the spirits to rise. your supportive mom gets kudos as well.
(21) Anonymous, May 29, 2007 10:54 AM
Funny!
A new Dave Barry, and with Jewish topics! Perfect! Haven't had such a good laugh in ages, and really needed it today. We moved to Canada from Portland, after twelve years there. Thanks again.
(20) S Dimarsky, May 29, 2007 12:30 AM
delicious!
Please keep on offering your wonderful talents and skills to benefit us all!
(19) hedy, May 28, 2007 5:12 PM
sooooo funny
I hope this disclosure doesn't cross any orthodox boundaries but I nearly had to resort to an incontinence pad reading this article.
Hope your journey continues to be fulfilling and equally funny. Keep the balance.
(18) Tamar, May 28, 2007 2:54 PM
God works through people in His own ways not ours
Wonderful story. God chose to work through you that day to others in need.
You accepted the challenge to change direction from your own idea of what to do and did what God set before you.
In your seeing and accepting the opportunity presented to you not only the women were blessed but you were blessed, God was pleased and now
all those many people who read your story share in the joy.
Surely we all have similar opportunities cloaked in old, unattractive even repulsive packages.
And perhaps we would rather not, we would rather look the other way and run our own course. Your story is a remeinder to us all that God works in mysterious ways and his ways are not our ways....we like the young, the beautiful, clean and well educated,
but God can even use an ass or a donkey. So, I am reminded to open the eyes of my soul and see what God might have set in my path disguised as something I would prefer not to see.
(17) Mrs. B. Simon, May 28, 2007 2:10 PM
I loved it!
What a great story!!!
(16) Sara Rigler, May 28, 2007 12:14 PM
A touching story, beautifully written. I'd love to read more articles by this writer. And every article you write for aish.com lifts the sparks of at least a half dozen screenplays about monsters, mobsters, and neer-do-wells.
(15) Anonymous, May 28, 2007 11:31 AM
What a mitzvah!
What a wonderful mitzvah, bringing Shacharit to all those shut-ins! Who knows how long they've waited to hear the words?!?
(14) Tikvah Kruger, May 28, 2007 9:35 AM
Tears and laughter
Your article made me laugh and cry.
It expressed something profound and true.
Thank you.
(13) Anonymous, May 28, 2007 6:42 AM
Amazing
The story sounds like fiction, but too remarkable to be anything but real. From someone else who just wants to be happy in deep center, after lots of struggle trying to play shortstop or first, thanks! Much success to you Mr. Greenman.
(12) sarah shapiro, May 28, 2007 12:31 AM
beautiful article
.
(11) DS, May 27, 2007 11:05 PM
Adorable
That was a great story. Thanks for sharing.
(10) debbie shapiro, May 27, 2007 10:25 PM
Great!
This is one of my favorites! Thank you!
(9) susan, May 27, 2007 12:49 PM
touched
thank u for that beautiful story. please find time to go back and visit your old friends for i am sure they loved every minute of your praying. young people give old people a reason to live.
(8) yitz greenman, May 27, 2007 12:36 PM
Great Article
what a writer!!! vait a minute, are vee related?
(7) Deena, May 27, 2007 12:08 PM
Such a touching story with an important lesson
This is an amazingly written article. It is so interesting and funny. I actually laughed out loud a few times.
At the same time, the point I get out of the article is so clear and important and TRUE! A real life lesson. I guess, since we don't usually like to take ourselves out of our comfort zones, sometimes we're forced into situations that take us out of them in order to push us to excel.
Thank you so much for sharing that with us!
(6) Me, May 27, 2007 11:52 AM
:)
What a wonderfully written article! Thank you for the smiles... and for the inspiration. Wishing you much success on your new path in life...
(5) Gittel Avner, May 27, 2007 11:42 AM
your story was wonderful.
Your telling is so visual, you must have been an excellent screenwriter. But, if you need to recover from that profession and re-enter life in one that is generally more despised, so be it. You were very generous that day. To give total attention when you do not necessarily have much else to give is in itself a wonderful mitzvah. I suspect you are underestimating your ability to lead your elder new friends in a service, however. I know you made their day. they are still talking about you, no doubt. the story makes makes great reading.
Gittel, a woman who once was kept off the Dean's list because she failed baseball and who now leads services frequently at her local lay led shul because the members and she love her singing. :-)
(4) K.Katapodi, May 27, 2007 10:14 AM
Coments
The ''deep center'' exists, however it's difficult to find it, we have to be determined to it.Find one's orientation is have self-knowledge, and be aware always of God's will..Let's do not expect others to do it for us, the reward and ''punishment'' are up to our actions..Our way to life is deterministic, thus 'laws of life'' and nature and self-conscious'' choices upon which is based the next of our life..Knowing others is firstly self-knowledge.offer help to others, means offering a ''Present'' to God, as faith is ''dead without tasks''..The deep center is the balance inside us and thus throughout our inner deep center, we locate balance between soul and spirit'' and try to 'dig'' out everything good and altruistic out of our inner self..
Vakasa
(3) Anonymous, May 27, 2007 8:07 AM
thanks for the laugh
cute article, i really enjoyed it! good luck on the continuation of your spiritual journey!
(2) mike, May 27, 2007 7:43 AM
I can relate!
I too guarded vast areas of outfield where no ball had ever gone or would ever have and feared the ball coming to me-thus proving to all how bad I actually was. This has made me an understanding teacher and helped me to see people not for what they cannot do, but rather for what they can do.
(1) Anonymous, May 27, 2007 4:05 AM
Beautiful Story!
I loved it! The way you acted towards those residents was surely true nachat for G-d.