Below The Fold

Last Monday, my neighbor asked me to come over to her house and hang a Mezuzah. She’s not Jewish, but her love of the artifact was genuine, and I saw no reason not to grant her request.
It was an ornate piece, larger than the one that hangs on the doorpost of my house, and with more artistic touches, including a metal sculpted Tree of Life on its face. It looked like something you might find tucked away in a Judaica shop in Boulder, probably not far from a bookshelf with Kabala for Dummies and across the aisle from a collection of Wisdom for Shiksas volume.
Not to deride the piece, however. It really was quite lovely in its design, and like I said, I found her sincerity to be touching. I was honored to comply.
We hung the piece on the wall separating her living room and kitchen—not really a doorpost, per se, but enough of a pass-through that I figured God wouldn’t complain. I mean, it’s not a kosher household anyway, what’s the harm?
She stood there with her daughter, a well-mannered, wispy girl of around 15 with bright eyes. Both of them beamed as I read the blessing over the Mezuzot, and the girl seemed genuinely moved that I asked her to hammer in the second nail and read the English translation (I added the Sh’ma, because it’s contained within the Mezuzah, and because it’s also my favorite prayer. The sound of the Hebrew as I read it brings me great comfort).
Then, I explained what the Mezuzah is and its importance to Jewish households. They were very engaged and interested throughout and were extremely gracious when we finished.
Then, something happened later that night.
The day had been very hot; the last couple of weeks have been scorching for this early in the Summer. Late in the day, some cloud cover rolled in. Amy and I were watching TV, and I looked out the window. The sunset through the clouds coated the street in a golden hue. It was like looking through a veil of corn silk and saffron, out into a world sprinkled with dandelion dust.
Certainly, there’s no reason to think the two events—me hanging a Mezuzah for a gentile neighbor and a particularly brilliant sunset—are intertwined in any way, save one.
Me.
I got to experience two wondrous things in one evening. I was able to perform a mitzvah, and in return, I was granted a vision of something rare and beautiful.
It’s been in my thoughts since. It’s brought an unusual peace to my heart, and an extra bounce to my step.