People often come up to me and ask for my fashion and make-up secrets. I was walking past K-Mart just the other day when the folks ringing the Sally Army collection bell said, “Hey, can we borrow that beard?” I’m always happy to share the techniques I use to get blotchy skin, wrinkles, grey hair, and all the features that say “Senior Discount Eligible.” But until last Tuesday night, I never realized I had The Look. One of the Shelter Week guests looked up at me with her big, clear, seven-year-old eyes, and said, “You look like God.”

Oh, you fashion icons: your fans may say you look divine, but you still don’t look like God.

I was tempted to poke fun at ex-Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick at this point, since I’ve always thought him a natty dresser, and if his political career has hit the wall I’ve often thought he could go into fashion design, but he probably prefers the life of a software salesman in the Texas-sized state of Texas. However, apart from the picture of Kwame in the red dress, I’m afraid it would be mean to poke fun, and I don’t want this blog to descend into the mire. By the way, don’t you wonder how that teacher persuades all those boys to put on dresses? If you can get people to do that, is there a limit to what you can get them to do?

But I digress, and now I want to focus on looking like God.

Well, I was tempted to ask the seven-year-old how she could be so sure, but this is one thing the young are sure about, and rightly so. Adam (for those of you who got this far in reading the Bible) could speak to God right after he’d been born or created, but later on communicating with God seems more complicated, so it’s pretty clear that the younger you are the more you know about God, and I’ll take the word of a seven-year-old.

What was I doing right? Was it the yellow cord pants? the “tusk”-shade of my fleece? the purple yarmulka? Musta been the purple yarmulka! Always wear some bright colors, that’s my fashion philosophy, so friends and family can pick you out of a crowd.

Wait, maybe it’s not the clothes. It must be the merry twinkle in the wise old eyes, set in a laughter-wrinkled face. Or then again, maybe it’s the beard. Some say the beard is too long, but they can’t say that ever again, not for eternity!

Maybe there was something intangibly reassuring about my manner. Last Tuesday was the day I said farewell to office work. Does God look retired? Oops, that could be a theological question. When times are bad, is God out of the office (Deut. 32:20)? This brings us to the economic question: Are times bad?

No, times are great: I have The Look that fashion icons crave, and you have my fashion tips. Go don some color so you’re easy to find! (But don’t forget the slice of humanity for whom times really are bad.)

Oh dear, I almost forgot to add a link to Rabbi Jason’s blog. (Now that we have tzportz tzitziyot for tzweaty and tzmelly athletz, I wonder when we’ll see sports tefillin that you can wear all day, just as we did in ancient times!)

Not being a professional politician, I hate to write a post that might seem self-serving , but I have to tell someone this story, and it might as well be you. I’m only telling you, nobody else!

This is Shelter Week at Beth Shalom, when we house homeless guests from the South Oakland Shelter. I’ve been on Night Watchman duty, responsible for waking people at the time they request they can get where they need to go for the day. Sadly, most of our guests–decent, capable people–have no job to go to, so they spend the day at the Shelter.

On Tuesday evening, one of our guests–call her Q–was telling Julie Grodin (she’s in charge for the week) about her medical problems. I overheard enough to know that I shouldn’t listen to any more.

But on Wednesday evening, after dinner, Julie and Q were sitting together, and Julie told Q she should tell me what she told her earlier.

Q told us she felt unwell on Tuesday night and couldn’t sleep. She got up and walked over to the shul library–maybe she could find a book to take her mind off her problems. She picked up a copy of The Shabbat Morning Siddur and took it away to read some of our prayers. Reading the book  “made me feel like I was in heaven,” Q told us, and she felt relief from her pain.

I always worry when someone picks up a book I wrote. What mistakes will they notice that I didn’t already know about? And I often worry how non-Jewish people like Q might react to Jewish prayers. Often, we seem to pray only for ourselves, or only for the Jewish community. So I was delighted that someone like Q could find them inspiring and comforting, even in my translation.

I hope that Q will soon find all that she wants in this world–a job, transportation, and a place to live for her and her young children. She told us she sometimes takes the kids to look at stores like Target from the outside, so the kids will know about the stores when–one day–they have money to spend inside.

As for me who lack so little, may the familiar prayers become unfamiliar so they can somehow transport me to that other world.

(Oops, I almost forgot to link to Rabbi Jason’s blog! There’s always good reason to read what he’s thinking.)