Adam Sandler Is A Mensch: The Unstoppable Power Of Jewish Unity

Have you ever had the feeling that you’d been led to a certain place, in a certain slice of time, to perform a certain set of actions? Actions that you’d never before considered taking, but that you suddenly feel called upon to perform?

Some years ago, I took a Meyers Briggs personality test. A psychologist friend set it up for me and later shared his findings. “It’s interesting what I’m seeing here,” he said. “It’s not a problem, just a little bit unusual. The results of the test show that you’re equal parts introvert and extrovert. As such, you tend not to be the first person to approach someone. You much prefer that they approach you.” I’ve done a lot of thinking about that last part of the test results over the last few weeks.

Let me explain.

Most weekday mornings and on Shabbat, I pray at a small synagogue in Santa Monica. I’ve been going there off and on for nearly 40 years. One reason I like it is because it doesn’t try to be hip. In fact, it couldn’t be hip if it did try. There are no expert cantors, no studied orators, and no one who cares what kind of car you drive or whether you’ve read the latest issue of the New Yorker.

A place this authentic is a rarity these days. Imagine. A religious institution that regularly feeds homeless people — without declaring: “Look at us, we feed the homeless!” No one at the synagogue is trying to be anything more than they appear: Among the regulars you’ll find an elderly Persian woman or two, a retired surgeon who makes sculptures out of rebar, a Russian couple with three young children, and a half dozen or so Chasidic Jews with their wives and kids. I’m pretty sure most of them don’t have any idea whether Ringo Starr is a drummer or a circus clown. For that reason alone I keep coming back.

About six weeks ago, I saw a man at the synagogue, sitting alone. He had long grey hair and seemed to be about my age. In a place where the majority of people could reliably be considered “uncommon,” this man looked even more so. He didn’t seem to fit within any recognizable category. Not with the Chassidim, not with the Persians, and not with the people who stumble in just as the services conclude. What struck me most about the man wasn’t his satin Scarface movie jacket or his Leonardo da Vinci t-shirt. It was his seriousness and his evident concentration on his prayers. I couldn’t help noticing how at the end of each service, he would take the velvet cover of the ark, hold it to his face, and whisper a silent benediction.

It had been many years since I took the Meyers Briggs test, and yet I thought about my results after seeing the man. I thought about how foolish and arrogant it is that I do, in fact, tend to wait for people to come to me, rather than approach them first. This is a defect in my personality, I thought. Something that requires correction.

So I approached him. I’m grateful that I did.

His name is Eric. He’s from Israel, and a brilliant scientist. When I asked him why he was here in this tucked-away little synagogue in Santa Monica he gave a startling response. “My 25-year-old daughter, Shannon is undergoing last-ditch experimental treatment for grade 4 glioblastoma. We’ve come to Santa Monica on the advice of a rabbi from southern Israel. He told us to find a Chabad synagogue, and it is there that we would encounter the right doctor, along with an assortment of people who would help us.”

Cautious not to impose himself on me, Eric allowed that in order for his daughter’s oncological treatments to continue he and Shannon desperately needed a humanitarian extension on their stay in the United States. My first thought was: I wish I could help, but I’m literally the last person someone should call on to help with immigration issues. But feeling called upon, and feeling an intense level of empathy and love for the plight of Eric and his family, I did the simplest of things. I wrote a few emails and made a few calls to people I thought might be at least remotely helpful. With the assistance of Los Angeles Rabbi, Sharon Brous and others it was only a day or so before I was corresponding with a woman from California Senator, Ted Lieu’s office. (Eric’s immigration issues are currently in the process of being solved.)

I then reached out to another friend of mine, Robert Battista, the former CEO of Dr. Evidence, a renowned medical research company. Without a moment’s hesitation, Bob joined a Zoom call with Eric, which led to Eric speaking with the head of the world’s premier glioblastoma research center in Paris.

Bob is a truly amazing person, and I thank him from the bottom my heart.

Eric also mentioned to me that he’d written a few lines in Hebrew about what he and his family were going through. “I’d love to see what you’ve written,” I said. Eric then sent me some of the most raw and eloquent lines I’d ever read. The songwriter in me couldn’t resist. I called Eric and asked his permission for me to turn his words into a song. “I’ll have to change of few things, and write the song in English,” I said. Eric immediately agreed.

I sat at the upright piano in my studio and let a song pour out. Even though it was very late, I called on my cousin, Jeff Victor the brilliant musician and asked if he could play some Hammond organ on the track. “I’ll do anything for these people,” he said. Even though Jeff was suffering from a bout of Covid, he not only played a gorgeous organ track, but he also sang an incredibly well-conceived and expertly-sung background vocal track.

There’s a reason Jeff is among my favorite people on the planet —and it’s not just his exquisite musicianship. Have a listen.
“Love Is Never In Vain”: A Song For Refaelah Sarah Shannon. By Peter Himmelman and Eric Sultana

Last week, Eric (again, very reluctantly) asked me if I knew Adam Sandler. “Shannon is a huge fan, and maybe some contact with him would bring her joy,” he told me.

Like almost everyone in America, I know and love Adam’s work. But did I know him personally? Absolutely not. Still, compelled by an unexpected wave of love and empathy, I sat down and made a few calls. Later that day, with the help of my friend Los Angeles-based comedian, Mark Schiff, I received a text that landed like a mini-miracle.

Adam Sandler is not only an astounding talent, he’s a world-class mensch.

Today I made a promise to myself. I will no longer succumb to my tendency to wait for people to approach me. People in need hardly ever ask for help. If only Eric and his family knew how much light they have shined upon me over the last couple weeks.

May God bring Refaelah Sarah Shannon a complete and speedy healing.

Check out Peter’s newest book Suspended By No String: A Songwriter’s Reflections On Faith, Aliveness, and Wonder : https://tinyurl.com/2ktddb86