I Honored My Father

I Honored My Father

The morning Neil's nephew was to be Bar Mitzvah,  Neil and I were met in the parking lot of the synagogue by the rabbi. "I understand you two believe that Jesus is the Savior," he said. "Yes." He looked grim. "In that case I have to tell you that you won't be allowed on the bema. You'll have to stay seated. You will not take part in the service today."

We went inside and were seated in the packed sanctuary. One by one everyone from teachers to neighbors, Jews and Gentiles, were called up to take part in the Torah service. We were the only ones who had remained seated. Outside I sobbed----not for me; for Neil who wasn't able to participate in David's Bar Mitzvah. My sister-in-law came up to us and said, "Cheryl, I'm sorry but that's just the way it is." I snapped at her. "You know that BOOK everyone read out of today? Neil and I spend time every day reading it! What do your friends do with that book?"

I was angry and handled my feelings wrong, but my heart was broken. At that moment I knew what it meant: "Let the dead bury the dead; I knew that when my beloved father would die I would not be allowed on the bema to pay my last respects.

Twenty years passed. My dad had developed Alzheimer's  Disease and was in the hospital with complications. I had preached and begged and explained and read and sang everything I knew over the years to bring him to a saving knowledge of Christ. He seemed to 'like' the idea, but I never heard a commitment. When we were in the hospital that morning I said, "God! I don't ask for signs, but I need a sign that my father has accepted you as his Lord and Savior."

A stranger entered the room not long after. He walked passed all of us and stood against the wall by the window. "The angels are here to take Joe Samelson to heaven today," he announced. My heart leapt!  My sign! I knew!

It was Thanksgiving week-end. The rabbi was out of town and couldn't be reached to come back. My mother called Chicago to get the names of rabbis who could come officiate at my father's funeral. He brought us together interviewing the family about my father. Everyone said a few sentences and then it was my turn. I poured out the memories of my father. The rabbi said, "Cheryl, do you think you could do the eulogy for your father?" My heart exploded!

That night I practiced in my childhood bedroom. I  wept as I practiced  the words I would say. I said them  over and over and over  until I could say them with joy, not sorrow.

I suddenly realized: NOT ONLY COULD I APPROACH THE BEMA FOR MY FATHER. I WAS ABLE TO HONOR HIM BY GIVING THE EULOGY.

My precious father, Joseph Samelson, loved us all fiercely and dedicated his life to giving us all what we needed, no matter what the cost to him. The greatest gift he gave me was allowing me to honor him at his funeral.