The time is three pm on a Friday afternoon. The place is the Austrian hostel hanging above the Via Dolorosa in the old city of Jerusalem. Down in the street, two thousand years back, Jesus was making his way a cross on his back and a crown of thorns on his forehead; Up here, they serve Viennese strudel and the kids, each with pen and paper in hand, are writing letters to God.
We are about to head to the wailing wall just a few minutes walk away to post the letters, and the kids are rushing to cram it all in. Sealed with little hearts and flowers, letters in hand, we headed to the one and only inter heaven post office. Upon arrival, Noah asked that I put his letter as high on the wall as possible. The little man is going to second grade, and he knows, whoever is going to be reading, God or angel, you always start from the top. He also saw how long and wordy his sister's letters were figuring; if God tended to there's first, he would be left with no patience nor desire to deal with anything, let alone his list of wants.
He consulted with me when constructing his letter, and we both agreed that this being his first correspondence with his maker and God being terribly busy, it would be best to not go overboard with requests and keep the letter short and to the point. So, Noah started his letter by asking not to sit in the back seat on the drive home and for the PlayStation to be fixed. In the small print, he added that more screen time would also be much appreciated. At first glance, his letter looked a little funny to me, but then I remembered that most people ask for money or to get pregnant or both; all of a sudden, his approach seemed very solid and the least ridiculous to say the least.
In any case, the reason I am unfolding this whole drama here is that by the time it was all sent and done and we finally made it to the car, I had a big choice to make.
Standing next to the car, doors open, I looked at Noah, he looked at me, and the girls were watching us both. I had to decide, right there and then, if there was a God above... Just like that, in the smoldering heat of the Mamilla parking lot, I had to make a decision where Noah would sit on the journey back home.
Now, placement in a seven-seat car with four children is not something to be taken lightly. Many things must be considered here, who set when where, for how long, and did he puke, and if yes then on who… and now, no less than the sheer existence of God was also thrown into the mix. It was Noah's turn to be in the back, and it became crystal clear to me that the little devil recruited God to game the system.
Rest assured, I know you are also interested in the answer to the big question. Is there a god above? Well, it's hard to tell. Noah did sit in the back, after all, with tears in his eyes all the way to Tel Aviv, but on the other hand, the PlayStation was fixed, and even screen time was expanded. So, is there God above? Well... God knows.
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