Years ago, during my husband’s fortieth high school reunion weekend, twenty classmates and spouses met up to attend Saturday afternoon Mass together in our beautiful hometown church.

         I’m Jewish, but I have no compunction about surrounding myself with the music and feelings of joy that arise within any house of worship. Nonetheless, I don’t cross lines that, to me, will feel disloyal to my own faith. But I do it unobtrusively. For example, instead of kneeling, I sit as close to the edge of the pew as gravity will allow and, with head bowed, rest my clasped hands on the pew in front of me.

         I don’t take Communion because that is a sacred honor that is earned, plus its symbolism would be in direct conflict with my own religious tenets.

         But I sing along with the music and add my voice to the canon-and-responses because I want to be a respectful participant in whichever house of G-d’s I am visiting.

         And –no miracle here—I leave all religious venues no less Jewish than when I arrived.

         After Mass, the nineteen Catholics and I walked to the nearby restaurant where we had dinner reservations. The chitchat, as we awaited our meals, was delightful, and the Class of ‘71’s laughter percolated throughout the room and weaved its way between that of the other patrons. Much of the hilarity arose from stories that began, “Hey! Remember the time…”

         But when our dinners arrived, the self-anointed Megaphone of the group –every class has one—stood up and announced, “I think we should say grace.”

         Several of the classmates squirmed as they took in the sea of strangers nearby. Many gave nervous shakes of their head. One even said, “Lenny, no; let’s not.”

         But Lenny insisted. “This is important!” he boomed. And with that, he blessed all the food at our table then sanctified it “in the name of Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior.”

         What Jewish girl wouldn’t be all kinds of inspired to dig in after THAT!

         I stood and smiled at Lenny and said, “I have a blessing, too! Ready?” Everyone froze.

         “Roses are red,

         Violets are blue-ish;

If it weren’t for Jesus Christ,

All of you, just like me, would probably be Jewish!

Amen.”

That last word I said Hebrew-style: Ah-MAIN.

         If Jesus were there, I would’ve known it, because He’d have stood up, raised his glass in toast and exclaimed, “She got you on that one, Lenny!” Because Jesus was all about humility and understatement and inclusion…never EVER about grandstanding or making a sanctimonious spectacle of spirituality, especially in a packed restaurant. And He’d have added, “Please forgive Lenny, for he knows not what he’s done.”