Night Prayers in the Synagogue

Barbara's got stomach trouble
And Crystal wants us to pray for that
So we pray, why not?
Can't hurt
The woman's got cancer
But we pray
We pray for stomach trouble
So at least when she dies
She'll die comfortable
Even though stomach cancer is bad
And that's what she has
Whether she wants to admit it or not

All of that stays here
Not that we gossips around
But we have gossips around
And I don't like gossip
Crystal's a gossip
And if she hears we're gossiping about her mother
It'll spread like wildfire
That there's gossip consuming the temple
And I can't have that
So keep all this to yourself

My son--my beautiful, intelligent son
Who, growing up, had a faith that was...
Frankly, stunning
Overwhelming
Powerful

My son has forsaken me
Not me, not exactly
But my faith
This faith
The faith in which he was raised
He has cast aside
And now he says--I have no faith

And this hurts me very deeply
As you can imagine
And I cried
And then I raged
And then I cried some more
And he hugged me
And said 'Papa'--the way he did when he was little
'Papa, it's not the end of you and me
It's just the end of me and my religion'

And he couldn't see how much of me
Was in that

They tried to take the cancer out of Barbara
But it was all tied up in her
It had become a part of her
The same way my faith
This religion
These practices
Are a part of me
And to try and remove them
Would mean death for me

And yet that is what my son asks of me

Can I just have part of you?

No, my son, you cannot
You are not part of me
You are all of me
And so you must love all of me
And that includes my faith
And to love faith
You must have it
And this is why...

This is why I asked him to leave

I didn't banish him, exile, no such thing
I asked him to leave
And come back
When he had reconsidered

What else could I do?

I did what my father did
When I questioned once
When I asked him why

Eventually I returned
But years went by

Years where we didn't speak
Because I had hurt him
So badly

So now I pray
For Barbara and her stomach
Her cancer
That thing that rests inside her
That consumes
That is...all-consuming

I pray that something like that
Begins to grow in my son
That it will consume him
As it once did

And that when that happens
I will be able to open my arms
And embrace him once more

And not still be stung
By his rejection

I pray for this
And I pray at night
Because I'm too ashamed to do it
In the light of day
When I could see the sin in me
The fault
The fault that every parent has
And in my case
The fault of doubt

That somehow
I placed
Inside my son
And never took back out