I’m not a religious man. I would be but I simply can’t see the point. If you pray to a God you need to see results. I’m a materialist atheist. And you don’t see results. When someone gets over the flu people say ‘thank God, she’s better’. When they die of cancer they say ‘well, it happens’. ISIS happens. The holocaust happened. Tsunamis happen. All kinds of shit happens. Ahhhh, that’s because He gives us ‘free will’. Yeah, so again: SO WHAT’S THE POINT???? Where’s the bolts of lightening knocking the beheading knife out of Jihadi John’s hand? Where’s the hole that opens up to swallow that Nissan Micra driving at 18mph in the fast lane? GIVE ME A SIGNNNNNN…

And if there should, by some miracle (yes, that is a pun) be an old Lordy, bearded ‘thing’ up there, with all that omnipotence and omniscience, he certainly doesn’t need me to tell him 700 times how great he is every week. He’s not vain, but He knows He is the dog’s bollocks. Doesn’t need the endless flattery that is what structured prayer inevitably represents.

I went to synagogue this morning. Always reluctantly, but essential. My mate, the judge, has a grandson who today had his barmitzvah. And I love that aspect of religion, the continuity, the cultural niceties that accompany rights of passage. So I went to hear the boy-but-today-man sing his piece. And sing it really well.

Though we arrived late. Because I went to my Tai Chi class first. If God helps those who help themselves, then self-defence is pretty godly in my mind. So its almost like synagogue. Almost. Except its in English, with just a hint of Chinese. And its fun.

Which synagogue most certainly isn’t. But I only had to endure about an hour of mumbling and then… and then… and then it was time for fishballs!!! The only reason I ever really go to ‘pray’. I pray for fishballs. Good ones. And they were. Other stuff too, but its the geflilte fish balls that for me define Judaism. Firstly because we’re a very food-orientated culture. And secondly because whatever happens, we break out the fishballs. Someone’s born, eat a fishball. Someone dies, eat two. Barmitzvah; mazzletov! where are the fishballs. Weddings: bride looks gorgeous, fishballs a little dry. No event is too big or too small to indulge in this ancient form of ritual.

Done now. With a little luck it may be 9/10 months before I enter a synagogue again. Whereas I can buy fishballs any time.

Enjoy the Sabbath, to keep it holy.

A xxxx