I’ve been known to goof pretty fiercely on my black-hatted brethren. Why, just today at lunch, I launched into a tirade about religious fundamentalists of all faiths, in response to my boss’s queries about the Gaza Strip. I even tossed out my standard line about how there seems to be some part of the Torah that says people are supposed to dress like it’s 1862 Poland.
That said, when I was stopping at gas station after gas station this evening looking for a can of gas for my dad’s stalled-out car, it was a young Hasidic man who walked up to me and said, “I have a can in my car that; why don’t you take that?”
He opened his trunk, handed me a nice, plastic two-gallon container, and told me, “I don’t need it; just take it.”
“That’s quite a mitzvah,” I said. “You have yourself a good shabbat tomorrow night, sir.”
Then he got into his car, which appeared to be from 1962 Detroit, and headed off to (in all likelihood) Spring Valley, NY.
So, when you hear/read me excoriating religious zealots in future, I guess you oughtta think to yourself, “What a goddamn ingrate this guy is…”
Like I have a point.