Monday the Rabbi Took Off (8 page)

“All right. I won’t argue with you, but if you think you are fooling the Jews by being friendly with one of them –”

“Let me tell you something. Mahmoud. We are all watched because the Israelis know that we will do anything to defeat them. But they hope that by treating us kindly, by encouraging us to attend the university, for example, some of us will be placated and resigned to the idea that they are in control and likely to remain for some time. Now.” he said to his friend, “which will they watch more closely, the ones who are resigned or the ones who remain stubborn? And remember, they want so much to believe that they have won some of us over.” He smiled in the darkness. “So I help them a little. Roy is young and not very bright, but he is good camouflage. Now if you were not following me to spy on me –”

“I have some news I wanted to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“We heard from Jaffa. There has been a shake-up in the Shin Bet, and Adoumi has been transferred to Jerusalem. He’s here now. He was seen.”

“So?”

“So maybe we ought to go easy for a while and see what happens.” the other said softly.

“How long has he been here?”

“Who knows? Perhaps months.”

They walked in silence, and then Abdul said. “After all. what difference does it make?”

“Plenty. If he’s in charge here, then we’ll soon see the same harsh methods that were used in Jaffa and Tel Aviv.11

“No.” said Abdul. “That kind of thing can’t be done here in Jerusalem. There are too many people from too many parts of the world –”

“There are even more in Tel Aviv.”

“But they are all businessmen there.” Abdul pointed out. “interested only in their big financial deals. Here, in Jerusalem, it is the religious and the learned and the scientific people and the diplomats and the writers and journalists, the people that the Jews try so hard to persuade of their liberalism and democracy. It is here that you have the large Christian community with their ties to Europe and America. And it’s a smaller town where everything that happens is immediately known, and cannot be concealed. Believe me, the methods he used in Tel Aviv and Jaffa – rounding up hundreds of our people and holding them for questioning for days – he won’t be able to get away with it so easy here. Besides, if he’s been transferred, he will probably be here for some time. Does that mean that we do nothing and just wait for the next shake-up when someone else is sent in? Are we to be made women by the reputation of one man? I for one am prepared to go ahead. Get word to the Swiss. Have him prepare the gadget. I’m ready to go ahead with the original plan.”

“And the rest of us?”

Abdul smiled. “Proceed as we arranged, or better, get yourself a friendly Jew and arrange to be with him when it happens.”

Jonathan, whether he was racing up and down the length of the El Al lounge or just standing in front of an elderly woman gravely watching her transfer items from one bag to another, was obviously enjoying the experience. Having flown from Boston’s Logan Airport to New York’s Kennedy, he considered himself a seasoned traveler.

Miriam, on whose shoulders the management and logistics of the expedition devolved, had worried and fretted, had made out lists – lists of things to be done, of things to be taken, of things to be remembered. Now at the airport, she realized it was too late to rectify any errors and was determined to relax and enjoy the trip. She sat quietly sipping coffee out of a paper cup, surrounded by the coats and bags that constituted their hand luggage. Curiously she was unconcerned about Jonathan’s moment-to-moment whereabouts since all the people in the lounge waiting for the evening flight seemed strangely familiar almost as though it were a family gathering where others would keep an eye on him and see to it that he did not get into serious trouble. This effect of familiarity was heightened by an occasional nudge from her husband with an urging to “Look at that couple next to the counter.

Doesn’t he look just like Mark Rosenstein?”

Of the three, the rabbi alone showed impatience. The sooner they were aboard the plane, the sooner they would get to their destination, and he could not wait. He looked at his watch repeatedly and then would get up from his seat beside Miriam and stride up and down the lounge in an effort to make the time pass more quickly. When he came to the window, he stopped to look out anxiously at the driving snowstorm outside, fearful that it might prevent the plane from taking off and yet buoyed up by the thought that it had been no different at Logan and they had had no delay in takeoff there.

At last came the announcement over the loudspeaker, like all the announcements first in Hebrew and then in English, that the plane was ready for boarding. Along with everyone else in the room, they hastily gathered their belongings and. with Jonathan securely in hand, hurried to join the line. They opened their handbags for inspection, and then the line divided into two, one for men and the other for women.

Each person was halted in a curtained cubicle where they were checked electronically for concealed metal and then manually frisked. The rabbi had seen the maneuver on television crime movies but had never been subjected to it himself. Jonathan began to whimper since he associated the frisking with an examination by a doctor which usually ended in something unpleasant like the jab of a needle, but his father reassured him. “See. it’s nothing, Jonathan, nothing at all.” When Miriam rejoined them, he said, “We were searched quite thoroughly, even intimately. How about you?”

She nodded. “The same, I expect. It’s nice to know they’re taking all possible precautions.”

Although all had been assigned specific seats in the plane, there was nevertheless considerable pushing and shoving. “Why do they do it?” Miriam wailed as the crowd of passengers struggled along the aisle of the plane. “Don’t they know we’re not going to start until everyone is settled?”

The rabbi looked about at his fellow passengers. “I suppose for a number of them this is their first time in a plane. Or maybe they don’t really believe that there is a seat for everyone. We’ve always been skeptics, I guess.”

They had had only a light lunch and were now quite hungry. Fortunately, the stewards and stewardesses began to serve almost as soon as they were airborne. Here and there a passenger was skipped. The man sitting across the aisle from the rabbi pointed it out to one of the stewards. “Look, that man didn’t get a tray.”

“I know, I know,” said the steward. “Are you his lawyer?” He hurried on down the aisle.

The man leaned over and confided to the rabbi. “Fresh. These young Israelis they’re fresh – no respect.”

The explanation for those who had been passed over was not long in coming. As soon as the stewards had finished with the trays, they began distributing flat cardboard boxes marked “Strictly Kosher.”

“Aha. so why couldn’t he say so?” the man demanded. “And isn’t our dinner kosher? They told me that on El Al all meals were strictly kosher.”

“Why don’t you ask the steward?” the rabbi suggested.

“And get another fresh answer?”

“All right. I’ll ask him. I’m curious myself.”

When next the steward passed, he plucked at his sleeve and said. “Isn’t our dinner kosher? In what way are those others more kosher?”

The steward shrugged and smiled. “Six years I’ve been with the airline and I haven’t been able to find out.”

The rabbi smiled and nodded his thanks, but his friend across the aisle shook his head slowly from side to side. “Fanatics, that’s what they are. I understand the country is full of them.”

Shortly after dinner the lights were turned out, and the passengers settled down for the night. Both Miriam and Jonathan slept, but the rabbi succeeded only in dozing fitfully. Nevertheless, when the sun came up, he was neither tired nor sleepy. Miriam was already awake, as were a good half of the passengers. In the aisle two or three men were standing facing the windows reciting the morning prayers in their prayer shawls and phylacteries.

“Are you awake, David?” asked Miriam. “The steward said they would be serving soon.”

He nodded but did not answer, and seeing his lips move, she knew he was reciting the prayers. When he had finished, he said. “For this once. I said the prayers sitting down. At least I’m facing in the right direction. They” – nodding toward the men in the aisle – “are facing in the wrong direction.”

“What do you mean?”

“The plane is heading east, and so am I. They are facing north and south.”

Again the man across the aisle tapped him on the arm and nodded toward the men in the aisle. “What did I tell you? Fanatics!”

After breakfast, the passengers began to make ready for the landing, although it was still several hours ahead. They shuffled in their bags for passports, for addresses; those who had left their seats to visit with friends returned to them; those who had made new acquaintances on the plane wrote out their intended itineraries or addresses at which they could be reached. Every now and then, the pilot announced points of interest that could be seen through the broken clouds – the Alps, the Greek coastline, the Greek islands – and dutifully, the passengers momentarily stopped what they were doing to look through the windows. Finally, he announced that they were approaching Israel and Lod Airport. For those on the right side of the aisle there was a glimpse of green fields and then the expanse of black tarmac. When, a few minutes later, the plane touched down lightly and taxied to a halt, there was a burst of applause from the passengers, whether at the pilot’s skill or in relief that the long trip was over and they were safe on Israeli soil the rabbi could not tell. He noticed that Miriam’s eyes were moist.

In Hebrew the pilot said. “Blessed be the coming to Israel.” and then in English paraphrase. “Welcome to Israel.”

It had evidently just rained, and there were puddles on the tarmac as they made their way to the lounge, clutching Jonathan firmly by the hand to ensure his walking around the puddles rather than through them. The air was as mild and clear as a May morning.

A large crowd waited beyond the customs barrier, to greet friends and relatives among the passengers. While they kept an eye on the baggage chute, Miriam and the rabbi scanned the sea of faces for someone who resembled the photograph of Gittel in the family album, taken years before. By the time they had reclaimed their bags and gone through the customs desk the crowd had thinned out considerably, but still they saw no one who might be Gittel. Only after they had repaired to a bench and Miriam was searching through her bag for her address book did Gittel arrive, inquiring anxiously. “The Small family? Miriam?”

“Oh, Gittel!”

Gittel hugged Miriam to her breast and then shyly offered her hand to the rabbi. He took it and then kissed her upturned cheek.

“And this is Jonathan!” She held him by the shoulders at arm’s length and then clutched him to her ecstatically. She released him and stood back to look at the family as a whole. And now she was ready for business. “I had trouble getting my car started.” she explained. “When it rains, the battery you know. And this morning it rained – the first time in weeks – the crops are thirsting for water, but you brought the rain. It is a good omen. You are hungry? You would like a coffee, perhaps? No? Then let us get started.”

Waving her umbrella, she commandeered a porter with a luggage carrier, chivied them all out the front gate, and, planting the tip of her umbrella firmly on a spot on the sidewalk, ordered them to wait right there while she brought up her car from the parking lot. Before the rabbi could offer to accompany her in case she needed help with the car. she was gone. This time, however, the battery must have worked properly, for they did not have long to wait. She came chugging up the driveway, her horn blaring to warn away anyone who might have designs on the parking spot she had selected. She brought the car to a halt and jumped out. From the trunk, she brought out a knotted mass of rope, which she handed to the porter, and supervised him as he secured the bags on the luggage rack on the roof of the car.

The rabbi whispered to her, “How much do I pay him?”

“I will pay him,” she said firmly, “and afterward you can reimburse me. He would take advantage of you.”

As the rabbi waited on the sidewalk while the porter finished with the bags, he was approached by a youngish man in the long caftan and the broad-brimmed black felt hat of the Orthodox. He had a full beard and long, carefully curled ear ringlets. He sidled up to the rabbi and asked in Yiddish, “You are from America?”

“Yes.”

“This is perhaps your first trip here?”

“It is.”

“So I am sure you would like to have your first act on this holy land an act of charity. I am collecting for a yeshiva –”

Gittel. who had already paid off the porter, had overheard and exploded in Hebrew, “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. A stranger comes to the country, and he has barely landed, and you shnorrers descend on him. What sort of impression will he have of us?” She pushed the rabbi into the car and then got in herself behind the wheel. “Besides.” she went on through the open window, “this man is a famous rabbi in America.” And in a parting shot as she put the car in gear “He’s in the business himself.”

As they pulled away, the rabbi remonstrated with her. “I’m not in the business of soliciting funds. Most rabbis in America are not.”

She turned and patted him on the shoulder, almost colliding with another car in the process. “I know, I know, but that’s the only argument that convinces that kind.”

As they drove along, she kept up a rapid-fire comment on the passing scene. “That grove – ten years ago, there was nothing there but rocks and sand. Over there, just beyond that house – it wasn’t there then – a good friend of mine was ambushed by the Arabs and shot down in cold blood… That road leads to a settlement. In forty-eight it was under attack. Three men with a machine gun stood off a whole company until they were able to get the children to safety… We grow flowers for export…

Last year our agronomists tried a new fertilizer which doubled the yield per acre – fantastic!… Those are Arab fields. We taught them how to protect the seedlings with plastic. It has quadrupled their production…