Alert! Certain contents of this column may not be suitable for viewing by some persons. Parental guidance recommended. I know this is an unconventional way to begin a column but one can never be too careful about some things in life and this may be one of those things. The theme today is recycling. That shouldn’t arouse anxieties in anyone and especially since it came up only because I plan to go tomorrow to the recycling center and get a load of mulch to put around the bushes on my lawn. Almost everyone nowadays has come to recognize the importance of caring for our environment. I certainly have. I am in favor of recycling everything we can. And since the drought has caused the city to make my irrigation system unusable, I hope the mulch will hold moisture in the soil and prevent my landscaping from dying this summer.

     However, back to my point. If you are the least bit squeamish, stop reading here. Go no farther. Now that I have everyone’s attention, here is my take on ultimate recycling. Because I am diabetic, I sometimes bang an ankle on a table leg or something and cause a wound on my foot. That’s a bad thing because it takes so very long to heal. Some of you are also diabetic and know what I mean. This can lead to very bad things—amputation, for example. So we have to be very, very careful. Five months ago I had a little mishap and have ever since been trying to heal a little wound without much success. Recently my doctor, impatient with my slow progress, began applying grafts to that wound. It is called Dermagraft. Now get this; it is a newfangled material grown in the laboratory using cells from neonatal foreskins. Whoa!

     Now, I won’t lie to you. I have never once wondered to myself, “What do you suppose they do with those little things?” I wonder why someone theorized that patching something like that over a wound would help it heal? Apparently some folk have had spectacular results from the use of these grafts. Thus far, it hasn’t helped me a lot but I remain hopeful. I confess that it has reinforced my conservative instinct that nothing should ever go to waste. This also stands for me as the definitive example of ultimate recycling. I also have found that it provides my friends with an irresistible urge to crack one-liners about my ankle bone. For instance, if I were to go barefoot on the beach could I be arrested for indecent exposure?

     Maybe Abraham knew something we didn’t know when he took a knife to himself and started the practice of Brit Milah—covenant circumcision-- among the Israelites. I have never been quite able to make much sense of that particular religious rite among faithful Jews. Maybe Abraham instinctively knew of some exceptional power of foreskins. It all goes show how little I know about how to seal a deal with God. Circumcision would have been the last thing I would have thought of doing. I suppose, the best I could have done if I were in Abraham’s sandals would have been to place my left hand on a stack of Bibles, raise my right hand and swear to be loyal and true, so help me God. Now, on the eighth day of their lives, Jewish boys experience this ancient rite. Jewish people regard it as one of the most important sources of their continuity and identity through the ages. Such are the mysteries of religious faith. All the great living religions have their own rites, rituals and practices that make their communities strong and lasting.

     Now’s a time when we all need to come together across all religious divisions on a new ritual for the future of the planet. Let us recycle everything! It’s the spiritual thing to do. Even if you aren’t particularly religious, do it for humanitarian reasons. We need this for continuity, strength and permanence in our world. Let all the congregation say “Amen!” And don’t let me catch you staring at my left ankle.

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