The Rule of Three

They say good things come in threes. Why do they say that? Is it because there's some kind of magical fairytale thinking that got ingrained in us as kiddies? The SJG says oui, oui, oui all the way home. Look at the evidence. A genie grants three wishes. Two blind mice aren't enough. The story requires three. And then there's Goldie and her three bears. (To you, she's Goldilocks, to me, she's a wandering Jewish gal with unmanageable hair and O.C.D.) She compulsively tries things three times till she's satisfied. "This isn't right, that isn't right, okay fine, this is just right."

Much like Goldie, it takes me three tries to find a comfortable seat in temple where no one bothers me too much. Does this mean I schlep family members along with me on my biblical search? Prepare to sob: I'm alone on this journey of redemption. You want reasons? Here are three: 1. Hubby doesn't want to go. 2. My sons don't want to go. 3. Photo I.D. is now required at the front door. I can't pass temple hubby off as real hubby anymore. Does it get any sadder than that?

Yesterday, my initial pick felt pretty good. I'd just settled into my first seat of the service for the long High Holiday haul, when a nice friend I see once a year at temple waved me over to join her. My instincts told me, "stay put." I ignored my instincts, got up and moved, climbing over people so I could sit with my friend and her people. I settled into my second seat of the service for the long High Holiday haul. I even had an empty seat beside me. Nirvana. Until a portly fatherly fella appeared, belonging to the people to the right of me. He sat down and between the manspreading and the wide elbows, I got scrunched out of my comfort zone. I looked at my friend. "I gotta move." "No, don't move." She sidled to the left, offering to share part of her chair. I refer you to Goldie. In life, I need a seat that's just right, not an invitation to back issues. "I'm moving." "Don't." "I love you, shana tova, shalom and adios."

I got up and went searching for yet another seat. It was a challenge. I saw two empties and whispered to a nice man, "Are you saving these seats?" "No." "I'm sitting down." "Good. Sit. Welcome." I settled into my third and final seat of the service for the long High Holiday haul. As an extra bonus, the Torah passed by three times -- unheard of!-- and I got to touch it with my prayer book three times. That's got to be some kind of triple blessing right there.