For Kol Nidre I read a story in lieu of a sermon. At Shacharit I gave a sermon on communal responsibility. It went wonderfully. (Thank you Rabbi Lebeau for your teaching on eye contact.) For a short time, Sean and I could do no wrong in the eyes of the congregation. For Sukkot and Simchat Torah there was no minyan, a huge disappointment, but at eight or nine people, we're told that's a crowd.
Foi, a Hawaiian woman who never misses a service filled us in. With the last rabbi, it was often just him and Foi. (A note on Foi: she's one of the non-Jews in the congregation, but she follows and never misses a service. Turns out her father was Jewish. Clearly he taught her. She wants to convert. I wonder, "why now?")
The old doctor is Dr. P.. He seems terribly bitter. His wife died 15 years ago, but he doesn't seem to be over her. He is in his eighties. Eight years ago he was forced out of his job at Tripler Army Hospital. Now he volunteers, but all he's allowed to do is hand out medication at the pharmacy. Why do we demean our elderly in this way? But there's hope. After our two months here, Dr. P. smiled Friday night. He has a great, kindly smile.
