Chapter 5: Denial; Not Just a River in Egypt.
The conversation that woke me up to how far I had fallen off the path.
He called himself Rabbi E. He stood outside the store trying to convince people to sign up for Birthright. He had been doing so for several years now. I’ve walked by him many times. He should have known I work in the store. He had been pitching his Birthright trip outside of the store for several years. But never once did he even look me in the eye.
He kind of reminded me of C-3P0. Or at least what C-3P0 would look like if he was human. He wore a small black velvet kippa. He had tzitzit sticking out. He had small payyot tucked behind his ears. He had red hair and a 5-o’clock shadow that was beginning to turn white. And like most campus missionary types, he spoke the language of the college neophytes.
At least that was his target audience. Clearly, he was ill-prepared for a hardened heretic.
I only stopped by his table because an old friend was preparing to film him. I hadn’t seen Shlomo in a few years. Shlomo had graduated a few years before. Now, he was a cameraman. He did a lot of work for Jewish organizations. Now, Shlomo was about to film the Kampus Kiruv Klown in action. I just stopped to catch up with Shlomo. I had no interest in engaging the Kampus Kiruv Klown.