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Robert Leiter
Real-life 'Sleepless
Purchasing this book
-- linked at left in article --
helps fund JWR
in Seattle' stories
THE PERENNIAL COUPLES question -- "How did you two meet?" -- is at the heart
of West Coast writer Miriam Sokol's new book, appropriately titled How We
Met, a collection of true life tales of often chance encounters that led to
lasting romance. The author, who discusses her deep commitment to Judaism
in her introductory remarks, only tells a few qualifiedly Jewish tales here
- one about a Polish Holocaust survivor begins the book - but her religious
viewpoint informs each narrative.
Sokol says that the paradigm for the parable of bashert -- or divinely
guided -- meetings is the story of Adam and Eve. "In the book of Genesis,"
the author writes, "G-d created Adam as one androgynous being with a
complete soul of his own. Then he split Adam in half, creating man and
woman, who each possessed half a soul. Only when joined together could they
recreate their original wholeness. Adam and Eve, the progenitors of
humankind, were the original soul mates --- the first blueprint."
The author notes that other thinkers and religions adhere to this idea of
separated souls searching for one another. Plato advanced the same argument
and, Sokol says, "platonic love" doesn't really mean asexual love, as so
many people believe, "but rather the spiritual attraction of one soul to
its original mate."
The other Jewish story in How We Met, titled "The Layover," exemplifies the
point. It begins with a brief preface about Rabbi Abraham Twerski, the
famous Pittsburgh religious leader and physician who runs a drug
rehabilitation program in the city. When he is not at his clinic, we are
told, he likes to relax at home where he invites guests to share festive
meals. During these events, the rabbi always tells several Chassidic tales
that were passed on to him by relatives.
At one such dinner, a guest asked Twerski why he didn't collect the stories
in a book. "They're so moving," the guest said, "but I can barely remember
enough details to do them justice when I try to relate them."
Twerski said he used to say the same thing to his uncle. Later that year
the rabbi published his first work of nonfiction stories, From Generation
to Generation.
Then we hear about a California woman named Marilyn who once received the
book as a gift. She was in her 30s, divorced and raising her son on her
own. Not much of a Jew before reading Twerski, she started attending
lectures and became more observant.
A respected lecturer in sports nutrition, she traveled widely, and one
Wednesday evening found herself with a layover in Philadelphia, then on to
Pittsburgh and for a connecting flight to Los Angeles. But the weather
didn't cooperate and the layover in Philly grew longer.
She needed to get home because a two-day Jewish holiday was beginning,
followed immediately by Shabbes. But she missed her connection in
Pittsburgh, as she expected, and with night approaching was desperate to
find a Jewish family to stay with. She thought of Twerski and managed to
make contact with a colleague of his at the clinic. This woman found a
willing family for Marilyn, who made her feel more than welcome.
At one of the meals during her three-days, Marilyn met a charming young man
named Steve. They hit it off immediately, and after a few missed
opportunities got together. They started dating, eventually married and
even had other children together. I won't give away the ending of the
story, which would be unfair, but I will say it has something to do with
the person who suggested that Rabbi Twerski collect his beautiful stories
in the first
Robert Leiter is Literary Editor of the Philadelphia Jewish Exponent.
