A Jewish girl prays to Saint Anthony
Alison Bert on December 26th, 2008 | Filed under Life Maintenance, Spirituality, Philosophy, Judaism, Holidays, Prayer, Catholicism
At Christmas dinner, the conversation turned to St. Anthony of Padua, the patron saint of lost things. My boyfriend’s mother had lost her favorite Rosary beads — a strand that was just long enough for her drive to Fratelli’s Italian deli in Yonkers. A friend had brought them back from Ireland years ago.
She told us she had searched her whole car, pushing back the seats and running her hand over the floors. She even said a prayer to Saint Anthony.
I was fascinated that there was a specific prayer for this frustrating phenomenon, so she gladly recited it:
“Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony, please come around,
Something’s been lost that cannot be found.”
I repeated it to make sure I had the words right. She corrected my ending, “needs to be found” to “cannot be found.” She said she was surprised a few days had gone by without the beads turning up; St. Anthony had not let her down in the past.
“Maybe he was looking out for you,” I offered. “Maybe you weren’t supposed to find those beads.”
I went on to explain my theory of misplaced time: “If you hadn’t lost them, the timing your whole life would be slightly different from then on. You could have found yourself on a different place on the road, in a car accident perhaps.”
The guests listened politely, then offered a more pragmatic explanation.
“It’s got to still be in the car,” my boyfriend said. His niece agreed.
But I was not convinced. I persisted in explaining my theory, inspired by the Taoist philosophy I learned in my years studying Tai Chi.
“Things in themselves are not necessarily good or bad,” I said. I mentioned a teenager from Somers who was thrilled to get a Honda Accord as a gift for getting his driver’s license. A week later, I was writing about his funeral.
“But these are Rosary beads,” my boyfriend’s mom persisted.
“They’ve got to be in the car,” my boyfriend said, and went out to have a look. A few minutes later, he returned, his face showing no hint of found treasure.
“You should have more faith in Saint Anthony,” he said, placing the beads in his mother’s hands.
They were on the floor of the passenger seat, he revealed.
She held them up to show us, her disbelief turning to gratitude.
This morning, I said my own prayer to St. Anthony when I couldn’t find my ear muffs. I had searched my briefcase because I often wrap it around one of the handles. I rummaged through my drawers of hats and gloves before dashing off for the morning train.
When I got home, I was determined to straighten up my apartment and get organized. After sorting out the contents of my briefcase, I placed it on the sofa. There were the ear muffs wrapped around one of the handles.
Saint Anthony was my new friend. Saint, that is. If we’re allowed to have intermediaries in the Jewish faith.
I hope so, because after searching my briefcase and the rest of my apartment, I had yet another reason to call on him: I realized I’d misplaced the battery charger for my Sony Cybershot.
Oh no, I don’t want to become a pest, I thought. Is it too soon to pray again? Or could the charger be gone for a reason?
I decided to give it one more try.
“Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony, please come around … “
July 12th, 2009 at 3:49 am
I loved this story!! I could read your work all day!!!
So St.Anthony where Alison Bert?