Presidential Ponderings: 9-11

In the worst of the blur of days from when we knew my dad wouldn’t wake up from his stroke to the funeral, my mom got wind that I had written a eulogy for El Gordo, years ago as writers tend to do.

She peered up and me and demanded, “I heard you want to do the eulogy? Why would you want to do that?”

I mumbled something.

She kept on, “OK, but you can’t call him an asshole.”

Reader, I had to re-write that speech from scratch.

Here is what we’re not going to do. We’re not going to turn this guy into some kind of saint.

A smiling woman with short dark hair and glasses wears a colorful paisley blouse in the foreground, with a blurred outdoor background of trees and a railing.

This morning, I attended a local prayer breakfast with joy. I adore prayer breakfasts. When I worked for World Vision on the west side of Chicago, they were one type of event. When I worked for The Barnabas Group, they were another. I am always honored to attend and pray for the soldiers, the civil servants, and the leaders who have been offered up to the gathered community for guidance.

Afterwards, I spoke with one of the hosts and he asked about this non-profit I have started to honor my dad. His first question was where El Gordo's heart had been. This is not the question I had been getting all morning and I smiled big because the answer is not my elevator pitch of "We're building a spiritual retreat center for community leaders who need a sabbatical."

Gordon Murphy wanted people to know that God loved them and that NOTHING could separate them from the love of God.

A man does not exude that much passion for unconditional love if he was a living saint. And I will tell you some of those stories, too, as I document his life and legacy here with you in these newsletters. I promise.

Tonight start's the Jewish new year, Rosh Hashana. My children, their father, and I will light candles together, say the blessings, and dip apple slices in honey as we look forward to sweet year ahead of us. We will go to services at our synagogue and my 13yo daughter Judith who was called to the bima in March as a bat mitzvah will chant Torah as a leader of the congregation.

L’shanah tovah tikatev v’teichateimu (לשנה טובה תכתב ותחתם). May all our names be inscribed in the Book of Life for this coming year.

Sincerely,

Rebecca