Have a Little Faith

In the beginning, there was a question,

a question that took me eight years to answer.

Thank you very much.

It came one night when I'd returned to my small hometown

in New Jersey for a book signing.

In the crowd was a face from my past.

Think of the most pious person you know.

For me, that was my childhood rabbi, Albert Lewis.

Wow.

Can't believe you're here.

Might I have a word with you?

Wonderful talk.

You had them in the palm of your hand.

Thanks.

And another number one book.

I tell you, the entire synagogue is very proud of you.

Look, I'm sorry I don't get back there too often.

It's a long trip from Detroit. Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.

This is not an inquisition.

I came to ask you a favor.

Me? You.

Okay.

Will you do my eulogy?

Your what?

My eulogy.

It's what they say when...

No, I know what a, are you dying?

Not yet.

Then why do you want me...

I'm 82.

I like to be prepared

and I think you're a good choice, so what do you say?

Uh.

Think about.

"Will you do my eulogy?"

That was his question.

My question was more blunt.

Why me?

I was a writer, a sports writer.

I've never done anything like what he was asking.

But as he walked down that hallway,

although I didn't know it yet,

I was already following him.

This is a story about believing in something

and the two very different men who taught me how.

One was Albert Lewis who followed a traditional path.

He studied, was ordained,

took a position at our temple and never left.

The other was Henry Covington.

On your knees! Don't run!

Hands behind your head now!

He came to faith in a more roundabout way,

starting with the things he saw

as a child in the early '60s in Brooklyn.

All right, Henry, you wanna try?

Mm-hm.

Recite your numbers.

Two times two is four.

Uh-huh.

Two times four is eight.

Uh-huh. And two times eight, 16?

That's right.

Numbers matter, boy.

It's how you count your money.

What you think you're doing?

Ha.

It's Friday night, I'm gonna do what I wanna do.

Yeah, I know where you going.

Mm-hm.

And I'm still going.

No, I'm sick of this, Willie!

Do you hear me?

Uh-huh!

People across the dang street heard you!

Am I right, Henry?

Cleaning houses, seven kids,

and then you go run around on me!

Woman, shut your mouth!

Come on now!

Come on. No more!

Put the gun down!

Mama!

Wilma, Wilma, come on, come on now!

Wilma, put it down now! You gotta run fast!

Come on, put that gun down

now, Wilma! You gotta run fast!

Put down your gun, don't be stupid now!

Come on, come on, come on now!

Wait now, wait, wait now!

Someone once said that children are proof

that God is not discouraged.

But what keeps a child from losing faith?

Hi baby.

Hi mama.

Are you being a good little man?

Mm-hm.

And you've been doing to church every week?

Mm-hm.

The Lord is watching over you, Henry.

I feel it.

I feel you gonna be the one to bring his word.

When are you coming home, mama?

Look, you know your mama's not a bad person, don't you?

Does your father tell you I'm a bad person?

He says you're a bad shot.

You say your prayers every night, okay?

And you thank Jesus for what he's given you, you hear?

Yes, ma'am.

Opening day of the 2000 season

from the Tigers brand new ballpark in downtown Detroit.

A eulogy?

Isn't that his job?

I know, right?

What'd you tell him? I told him

I'd think about it.

But you're not even religious.

Well, I used to be, when I was a kid,

I'd go to synagogue every Saturday.

Today's Saturday.

And I am covering a baseball game.

Sports is a religion, all right?

The good Lord wanted me to hit that curveball over the wall.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, good Lord wanted

the pitcher to get rocked.

Religion is so over the top these days.

Either they wanna steer everyone's life

or they want everyone to let go of the wheel.

Leave it up to the good Lord.

How are you gonna do a eulogy for a clergyman?

I don't know.

Maybe I shouldn't go.

When's your flight?

In an hour.

Plenty of time. Let's debate it.

First of all, why me?

I'm not even observant.

That makes you unworthy?

Yeah.

Well, he doesn't think so.

We got to his services once a year.

That's more than some people.

I'm married to a Christian.

And he's always been great to me.

I'm way too busy.

You have time for your books, plays, newspaper, TV.

I'll miss the game.

There are other games.

What if I just don't want the responsibility?

It's not a job, Mitch.

It's a favor.

Yeah, I know.

He's asking me a favor.

Adam hid in the Garden of Eden.

Jonah hopped a boat and got swallowed by a whale.

There's a fine tradition of man running away from God,

but here I was back in New Jersey,

headed in the opposite direction.

Entree, entree.

Is something wrong?

No, I just, I've never seen you

out of a suit or a robe before.

Well, robes can be difficult if you clean your garage.

Coming?

Nice socks.

Well, I keep meaning to clean up in here.

Come in, come in.

Oy.

Have you read all of these books?

Yes.

That's impressive.

Maybe not.

I mean, there's books, and there's action.

You have a file on God?

Yes.

But don't tell him.

To start, I thought I'd try to get to know you better

for the, you know, for the...

Yeah.

Thing. Eulogy.

That's right, the eulogy. The eulogy.

Um.

So I'll ask you some questions.

Ask away!

Make my day.

Let's start with God.

Do you believe in God?

Yes.

Occupational hazard.

You ever speak to him?

I speak to God all the time.

Really? What do you say?

These days?

I say,

But leave me with enough strength

to take care of my congregation.

Do you get an answer?

Still waiting.

All right, there you go.

I'll put a little bit more on it, okay?

Now, God loves you, dear.