By the Rev. Aaron Solberg, Rector of Fort Smith, NWT
Before each meal, no matter how large or small, my wife Isabelle and I take a moment to say the Grace and make the sign of the cross. Even though this has become a habit for us, there are moments it is awkward or even uncomfortable.
Some time ago, we found ourselves waiting for a flight from Newark to Toronto on a very early fall morning. I remember sitting in the airport with messy clothing and a breakfast sandwich in my hand, looking around at all the unknown faces, and feeling incredibly uncomfortable about making the sign of the cross in such a public place. I quickly said the Grace under my breath and made some sort of sweeping motion similar to the sign of a cross on my chest.
At that moment, a man across the aisle caught my eye as I sat back to enjoy my greasy sandwich. He was an orthodox Jew, and as I observed him, I began to think about what it means to be a Christian in this world.
This was an early Friday morning, sometime around 5 a.m., which means he must have arrived before Shaot Zmaniot, the earliest time a Jew can fulfill the commandment of putting on one’s teffilin (phylacteries) for morning prayer. In a country that had a 25% increase in antisemitism over the past year, and in a world where even looking Jewish can still have violent or even deadly consequences, this man sat unperturbed, legs crossed and Bible open.
He was traveling on the same flight as I, and it being Fall and the Sabbath starting around 6:00 p.m., it was an easy assumption that he was traveling to Toronto so early to be there before the start of the Sabbath. As an orthodox Jew he would not be willing to travel later and to take the chance of getting delayed and having to break the Sabbath travel rules.
He wore a dark blue suit, a white pressed shirt, and a black fedora, as is the custom among orthodox Jews of Eastern European descent. He carried a suit bag and a hat box because, as I once heard an old Rabbi say, the weekday suit is not worthy of being worn on the Sabbath.
I continued to observe as we followed him onto the plane. I checked my watch and saw that it was about 5:45 a.m., misheyakir, the earliest moment one can wear their teffilin.
We had seats in the very back near the galley, and as we sat down and settled in for a nap, I watched this unapologetic orthodox Jew walk to the back of the plane, speak with the stewardess for a moment, and then proceed to put on his tefillin and his tallis (prayer shawl). When I woke up, we were already
beginning our descent into Toronto. When I looked, I saw my Jewish friend still with his Bible open, quietly studying the word.
I realized at that moment that I had yet to open my Bible or prayer book that morning, and when we landed in Toronto, I stood looking in the bathroom mirror, messy hair, beard, sweatpants, and sweatshirt. I am a priest, and the only visibly Christian thing I had was the cross ring on my finger. I had been ashamed to make the sign of the cross over a greasy breakfast sandwich… but now I was ashamed of the Christian example I was living out.
Matthew 10:22 says, ‘’You will be hated by all because of My name, but it is the one who has endured to the end who will be saved.’’ Who could hate me because of His name? There was nothing that I could show that said I was His. In Judaism, you have two opposing concepts: Kiddush Hashem is when you
honor the name with your life, Chillul Hashem is to dishonor the name with your life. I remember the lesson I had been taught as a young Jewish boy: dress Jewish, look Jewish, be Jewish, and act your very best so that you may always be Kiddush Hashem and that all who see you will praise your God.
In John’s Gospel, we learn about the darkness and the light, but sometimes we’re happy to be in the grey area in between. We hear no evil and see no evil, we let you be you, we live and let live, and it all add us to failing to take a stand, being ashamed to live as Christians, and dishonoring the name of Jesus Christ.
On a flight from Newark to Toronto I realized a truth about myself. Was Jesus talking about me when he said: “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead, they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”
On this very flight, I couldn’t help but notice the orthodox Jew across the aisle living out his faith. This led me to question my own witness as a Christian. It’s not about religious symbols like a collar, a large cross, or a big Bible with gold edges. These are merely material things that don’t necessarily impact how I truly live my life. The early Church was known as “The Way” because it wasn’t just a religion, but a way of life. Sadly, we seem to have forgotten what it means to belong to “The Way,” to live our lives in a way that declares the glory of God and serves as a witness to others. Even if I had worn my collar this morning, my public devotion to a nap would not have brought anyone closer to “The Way”. This orthodox Jew’s unapologetic devotion to his faith made me realize that I had been too self-conscious to make the sign of the cross earlier that morning, let alone opening my Bible for morning prayers when I wanted to nap instead. If we are going to claim the name of Christ as “Christians”, let us all be bold to bring honor to that name, and not be ashamed to live out our faith wherever we find ourselves.