Punking the Harvard Hillbilly (Or: Take Your View Less Seriously; Lighten the Hell Up, Francis!)
Recycled from a message board posting I made a while back ... some of the recent talk about people taking their Organized Religion / Personal Faith Tradition too seriously prompted me to re-post here.
************
When I got to Harvard in the fall of '90, one of the people I immediately fell in with as friends was Talya T. - from the Great Neck area of New York.
Talya was my first friend of the Jewish faith of my own age.
She had never encountered a Christian more low-brow than Catholic or Episcopal, and was astounded to find someone who:
1. Knew the Torah (i.e., Old Testament) stories fairly intimately.
2. Had a healthy appreciation and genuine respect for the other two major monotheistic religions, and an understanding of the history of the rifts among them.
The two of us had long discussions (sometimes lasting until sunrise), based on mutual respect. That mutual respect permitted us to rib each other about our faiths, but make no mistake: they were serious, too.
She bowled me over by inviting me to The Hillel. I was honored beyond words, and excited. To break bread in someone else's house of worship - this means something where I come from; this is an honor.
That Friday, she popped into our first-floor dorm room (we routinely left our door unlocked for others in our dorm to pop in whenever they liked).
She caught me in the middle of toweling off; I blushed nine shades of red, and hurriedly tucked the towel around my waist.
She giggled, gave a quick glance lower than she should have - making me flush even brighter - and said she was just coming to check up on me, to make sure I wasn't running late. I stammered that I was on time.
Satisfied that I was on schedule, and clearly enjoying her control of this situation, she turned to leave - to my relief.
Pausing in the doorway, she turned, and called out over her shoulder, "Oh by the way, be sure to wear clean underwear."
???!!!???
"Wait a minute!" I cried out after her. "Not that I didn't plan to anyway, but any particular reason?!?"
She replied: "Yeah, the rabbi has to check to make sure you're circumcised, in order for you to go into certain parts of The Hillel."
Again, she made to leave.
"WAIT!!!" I cried. "Are you kidding me?!? Can't I just tell him?"
How she kept a straight face, I'll never know. She must have been pinching herself hard or something.
"No, he has to check. It's not a big deal. He just takes you into a little side room, and you show him. No biggie."
And with that, she pivoted on one heel and left, letting the door close behind her, my jaw dragging the floor.
I chose VERY clean underwear.
The Harvard Hillel is not far from Pennypacker. It's maybe a ten minute stroll, if that.
But it felt like forever. I thought of backing out.
We got there. No check at the front door. She led me downstairs.
There was a LOT of food, spread out over many tables in the middle of that basement room. That was the first thing I noticed.
She parked me in a corner, and - social butterfly that she was - she flitted off to talk to the little knots of her friends who had already gathered.
As I took in my surroundings, and soaked in the experience, it dawned on me (after she flitted from about the third or fourth group) that each one was erupting in muted laughter.
And then, it really dawned on me: I'd been punked. Hardcore.
Ha! Ha! Look at the nervous Pentecostal Hillbilly, over in the corner, waiting to get his SchmekelSpection (TM).
I never did get her back, but she's a pediatrician in New York now, and - if I were a betting man - a very good one, who makes kids of all ages laugh.
During my time at Harvard, I built on my understanding of the three major monotheistic religions. Being a lifelong learner, I still remain open-minded and genuinely willing to be educated or enlightened on a subject about which I am ignorant, or have remaining blind spots.
This is why I am here. Because this is such an emotional and deeply personal topic for so many, I will likely tiptoe cautiously, listen attentively, and absorb that which strikes me as making good sense.
If I put a foot wrong, I do so with respect. Please forgive me.
If I put a foot in mouth, pour me a little salt for flavor, grease it up for ease of extraction, and help me to pull it out.
************
Maybe if more people took their personal orthodoxies a little less seriously ... there'd be a little more Peace on Earth?
- David
************
When I got to Harvard in the fall of '90, one of the people I immediately fell in with as friends was Talya T. - from the Great Neck area of New York.
Talya was my first friend of the Jewish faith of my own age.
She had never encountered a Christian more low-brow than Catholic or Episcopal, and was astounded to find someone who:
1. Knew the Torah (i.e., Old Testament) stories fairly intimately.
2. Had a healthy appreciation and genuine respect for the other two major monotheistic religions, and an understanding of the history of the rifts among them.
The two of us had long discussions (sometimes lasting until sunrise), based on mutual respect. That mutual respect permitted us to rib each other about our faiths, but make no mistake: they were serious, too.
She bowled me over by inviting me to The Hillel. I was honored beyond words, and excited. To break bread in someone else's house of worship - this means something where I come from; this is an honor.
That Friday, she popped into our first-floor dorm room (we routinely left our door unlocked for others in our dorm to pop in whenever they liked).
She caught me in the middle of toweling off; I blushed nine shades of red, and hurriedly tucked the towel around my waist.
She giggled, gave a quick glance lower than she should have - making me flush even brighter - and said she was just coming to check up on me, to make sure I wasn't running late. I stammered that I was on time.
Satisfied that I was on schedule, and clearly enjoying her control of this situation, she turned to leave - to my relief.
Pausing in the doorway, she turned, and called out over her shoulder, "Oh by the way, be sure to wear clean underwear."
???!!!???
"Wait a minute!" I cried out after her. "Not that I didn't plan to anyway, but any particular reason?!?"
She replied: "Yeah, the rabbi has to check to make sure you're circumcised, in order for you to go into certain parts of The Hillel."
Again, she made to leave.
"WAIT!!!" I cried. "Are you kidding me?!? Can't I just tell him?"
How she kept a straight face, I'll never know. She must have been pinching herself hard or something.
"No, he has to check. It's not a big deal. He just takes you into a little side room, and you show him. No biggie."
And with that, she pivoted on one heel and left, letting the door close behind her, my jaw dragging the floor.
I chose VERY clean underwear.
The Harvard Hillel is not far from Pennypacker. It's maybe a ten minute stroll, if that.
But it felt like forever. I thought of backing out.
We got there. No check at the front door. She led me downstairs.
There was a LOT of food, spread out over many tables in the middle of that basement room. That was the first thing I noticed.
She parked me in a corner, and - social butterfly that she was - she flitted off to talk to the little knots of her friends who had already gathered.
As I took in my surroundings, and soaked in the experience, it dawned on me (after she flitted from about the third or fourth group) that each one was erupting in muted laughter.
And then, it really dawned on me: I'd been punked. Hardcore.
Ha! Ha! Look at the nervous Pentecostal Hillbilly, over in the corner, waiting to get his SchmekelSpection (TM).
I never did get her back, but she's a pediatrician in New York now, and - if I were a betting man - a very good one, who makes kids of all ages laugh.
During my time at Harvard, I built on my understanding of the three major monotheistic religions. Being a lifelong learner, I still remain open-minded and genuinely willing to be educated or enlightened on a subject about which I am ignorant, or have remaining blind spots.
This is why I am here. Because this is such an emotional and deeply personal topic for so many, I will likely tiptoe cautiously, listen attentively, and absorb that which strikes me as making good sense.
If I put a foot wrong, I do so with respect. Please forgive me.
If I put a foot in mouth, pour me a little salt for flavor, grease it up for ease of extraction, and help me to pull it out.
************
Maybe if more people took their personal orthodoxies a little less seriously ... there'd be a little more Peace on Earth?
- David