I’ve never been religious.

So, it wasn’t surprising that this fact didn’t change, when I met Lucas. I grew to like him pretty fast. He was kind, had a great sense of humour and was handsome, too. It didn’t take us long to become a couple. Our relationship was fulfilling and we complimented each other well. While I didn’t want to hear anything about God or a higher power, Lucas was a believing Jew. I respected his religion, though I never understood what he saw in it.

It was one warm, sunny evening in September, when I entered through the Synagogue’s door. “There you are, Lucas. I’ve been looking everywhere for you”, I said with relief.
Noticing me, he stood up from his kneeling position and turned to face me. “Hello, sweetheart”, he greeted, “how are you?”
“I’d be doing a lot better, if you were with me” was my annoyed reply. “We agreed to meet at 8 pm.”
“What time is it?” His face showed complete innocence.
“9 pm.”
“I’m sorry.” Brown eyes grew soft and his voice was apologetic, indeed. Yet, I couldn’t help but to complain about his attitude.
“You’re sorry?” I asked and upcoming anger leaked from my tone. “I’ve been waiting for you. You’re never on time, lately. What is wrong with you?”
He smiled. His eyes were filled with honesty. “I’m sorry, sweetheart”, he repeated and I tended to accept his apology. But when he went down into a kneeling position once again, that thought vanished quickly. “I’ll be there in a minute. Just let me finish my prayer.”
“Lucas! You know, though I am not a believing person, I respect your religion, I really do – but isn’t this a bit much? You’ve been here for an hour.”
“I know.”
“Then what about me? I looked forward to our time together”, I said reproachfully at his easy-going behaviour.
“Me, too.”
Silence filled the holy room, before I dared to speak the hurting words. “Or is your God more important than me?”
“What?” He raised and looked shocked.
Realizing what I had done, I regretted it instantly. “Oh my goodness, Lucas, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you or your belief…I just don’t understand why praying is such a matter for you. I already visit the Sabbath ceremony with you every week.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“Lucas, what shall I do? I like you, but with you being so obsessed with religion…it makes me feel like you don’t have any interest in me anymore…” I trailed off sadly.
“Sweetheart, that’s not true.”
“Then tell me already! Because I’m tired of losing you to an invisible higher being, I have no chance to compete with…what is it you need to pray for?”
“You.”
“Me?” I blinked.
He stayed silent.
“Lucas, that’s really sweet of you. But you don’t have to waste your time. I appreciate the effort, but I don’t believe in praying.” I attempted a small smile, which he returned.
“I know.”
“But why do you do it then?”
“You don’t believe in God or anything, you could request help from. That’s why I have to pray for you.” He leaned in to kiss my forehead in a gesture full of care. “I have to make sure you’ll be safe.”
“Why?” I echoed. My voice cracked and I could feel my eyes watering.
“I love you.”
When Lucas embraced me, believing was still in unreachable distance, but I could see a quick glimpse of what religion was supposed to be about. And for the first time in my life, I understood.

Three years later, I stood in front of his grave. It was just the warm late-summer evening it had been all this time ago. Lucas’ death had been surprising and depressing. He’d died in a horrible accident. As I lay down the flowers, I remembered his words. It’s ironic how things work out in life. He had prayed to protect me from anything bad and I was.
Sometimes I wonder if I should have prayed from him, too. But then again, I’ve never been religious.

And – after all that had happened – I would never be.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 04.08.2009

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