One last memory.
This was not long before the Reb passed away.
He was talking about heaven and suddenly, for some reason, I had a notion.
What if you only get five minutes with God?
“Five minutes?” he said.
Five minutes, I said. God is a busy God. Here’s your slice of heaven. Five minutes alone with the Lord and then, poof, on you go to whatever happens next.
“And in those five minutes?” he asked, intrigued.
In those five minutes, you can ask anything you want.
“Ah. Okay.”
He pushed back into the chair, as if consulting the air around him.
“First I would say, ‘Do me a favor, God in heaven, if you can, members of my family who need help, please show them the way on earth. Guide them a little.’”
Okay, that’s a minute.
“The next three minutes, I’d say, ‘Lord, give these to someone who is suffering and requires your love and counsel.’”
You’d give up three minutes?
“If someone truly needs it, yes.”
Okay, I said. That still leaves you a minute.
“All right. In that final minute, I would say, ‘Look, Lord, I’ve done X amount of good stuff on earth. I have tried to follow your teachings and to pass them on. I have loved my family. I’ve been part of a community. And I have been, I think, fairly good to people.
“‘So, Heavenly Father, for all this, what is my reward?”’
And what do you think God will say?
He smiled.
“He’ll say, ‘Reward? What reward? That’s what you were supposed to do!’”
I laughed and he laughed, and he bounced his palms on his thighs and our noise filled the house. And I think, at that moment, we could have been anywhere, anybody, any culture, any faith-a teacher and a student exploring what life is all about and delighting in the discovery.
In the beginning, there was a question. In the end, the question gets answered. God sings, we hum along, and there are many melodies, but it’s all one song-one same, wonderful, human song.
I am in love with hope.