I’m walking home passing Park Avenue Synagogue when I see a well dressed, 40ish, African American man leaning against the wall by the back entrance with his head in his hands.
Of course I stop.
“Are you alright sir?” I gently ask.
He flips around like a ticked-off tortilla and says,”Can’t a man just pray anymore,” shaking his head as he runs to his car parked at the curb. I watch as he peels off like Mario Andretti even running a stop sign. Wonder how God would feel about that?
No good turn goes unpunished, as they say, shaking my own head in quiet bewilderment as I walk the rest of the way home.