Just the other day, I saw something I had never seen before and, in fact, never expected I would ever see. I gasped audibly at the gesture, and felt my eyes tear up that such a thing was still known, still practiced in a world that worships speed, efficiency, productivity and their various cousins that fuel competitiveness and our zeal to get it done, get ahead. Do we always have to be the most important one in the room? In the conversation? Sometimes, someone else is king.

Relax, I’m not here to lecture you on how to be a mensch. I just want to tell you a story, and you can draw your own conclusions.

I was seated on one of the benches that front the entryway to the Community Center building here at Peconic Landing, where I live now. It was a quite-nice, mid-summer Sunday afternoon, still warm but without the intense humidity we had been experiencing. I might even have felt a gentle breeze. Directly across the patio, an elderly gentleman was seated similarly, scanning the cars as they approached the building, just as I was, both of us obviously watching for a familiar one signaling that those we were awaiting had arrived — maybe family or friends or a business acquaintance. We nodded at each other in camaraderie, silently acknowledging our shared activity.

As for me, I was watching for my daughter, eager to see her hatchback pull up under the portico so I could hop in and we could be off to meet friends for what we had planned as an art day — an opening reception for an artist friend, then a group show of Peconic Landing artists that had been mounted here at  Brecknock Hall, the two events separated by a fun lunch somewhere.

As eager as I was to catch sight of Jenny’s car, I kept my eye on my companion, wondering what his plan for the day would be with his guests. Just then, he rose quickly from the bench, focused on the vehicle maneuvering into a nearby parking space, his face beaming with eager delight. Out from the car bounced two teenaged girls, their father, I presumed, and a brown-skinned woman dressed in the traditional garb of her native India. The group moved quickly to greet the old man with hugs and much chatter about how the girls had grown, how long it had been since they had seen each other, and how well they all looked. The woman approached more cautiously, reveling in the beautiful reunion taking place before her. As she neared the old man, she knelt, bowed low, touched her hand to both of his feet, then stood and kissed her fingers before wrapping her arms around him in a loving embrace.

In maybe five seconds, it was over. But I will never forget that sight, that gesture of humility, that act of reverence for age, lowering herself before him to show respect. I’ve thought about those few seconds many times since it occurred. Even I felt the honor as one who was openly allowed to observe.

World cultures show honor in varying ways. In Japan, people greet each other by bowing lower than the person they are greeting. In China, people who are offered a gift will accept it with both hands, not just one. In Nepal, visitors are expected to remove their shoes before entering a home or a temple. Interestingly, in Russia, if you turn down an alcoholic drink when offered, it is considered offensive.

We Jews, too, extend Kavod — honor and respect, in small and meaningful ways and also through major commitments. We light candles and recite the Kaddish prayer in remembrance of those who have died. We cover our heads, light Shabbat candles, and affix a mezuzah at our doorways to show respect to the Jewish faith. We touch the mezuzah and kiss our fingers to respect God. We stand when reciting various prayers during ritual services, and we express joy in communal worship. We honor our shul with our gifts of support and participation. As we learned at a recent Shabbat service, one of our members honored her family by traveling to Israel in a time of strife for a granddaughter’s wedding. Another endowed a place of healing in Israel in honor of his parents.

When I read the headlines in today’s newspapers and listen to the contempt and disregard rampant in our often hurtful society, I close my eyes and remember that wishful thinking by Aretha Franklin, who sang, “R-E-S-P-E-C-T…just a little bit…”

—Sara Bloom