March 14, 2007

• Muli-cultural diversity is fun

  When I was 13 years old, I worked as a mother's helper for a Jewish family down the block from us. I babysat like crazy in the 8th-10th grades, and made pretty good money at it, too. This lady asked me if I'd like to be a mother's helper, explaining that it included babysitting but also helping her around the house. It meant working for her after school a few days a week, and babysitting most Saturdays while they went to Synagogue.

  It was loads of fun for me at the time and VERY educational. I love learning about other cultures and she did not mind at all explaining to my young mind many of the histories behind their traditions. I helped her clean out her kitchen in preparation of Passover. She moved everything non-perishable into a shed outside, and everything that would spoil during that time went into the trash. Anything at all that had any kind of leavening agent in it had to be removed from the house and every surface where that might have touched needed to be scrubbed down. While we worked, she explained to me that Jews did this to remember their ancestors' time in the desert of Egypt where God fed them with manna. I remembered the story of the Exodus from Sunday school, but it was so much more real hearing it from someone who still witnessed it.

  She also explained the Teffilins inside each door frame were little prayer boxes that had scriptures in them for protection and as reminders of their faith when they went in and out of those doors. She invited me for Sabbath dinner, too, and explained their prayers and traditions of that to me as well.

  I was an ambitious babysitter, often cleaning people's houses for them, or doing the dishes, etc., while they were out. I got an eduction in Kosher after I did her dishes for her in the bare sink instead of using the proper dish basin, ruining those dishes for what they were intended. I offered to pay for them, but she was very nice about it and said she could purify them and they could become part of another set of dishes that did not touch either meat or dairy.

  Her son's name was David, and she explained to me that in Hebrew, it was pronounced Dah-veed. I loved saying his name that way. I sometimes wonder what ever happened to them. Whenver we are approaching Easter, and subsequently Passover, I wonder if they have any idea what an impact they had on my life because of their generosity and willingness to explain their faith to me.

  • 8:55 am
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