Monday the Rabbi Took Off (9 page)

That’s an Arab village back there. Primitive! You wouldn’t believe the amount of dirt and disease… Trachoma and gastroenteritis were endemic. The children died like flies in the summer months. Then we opened a clinic there. At first they didn’t trust us. Treatment had to be carried out in front of the whole family. And when we gave them pills, they would swap them among themselves – I’ll give you two white for a red1 – that kind of thing. But they learned, and now the children don’t die anymore. And some of the young people are taking advantage of government help and building modern houses when they get married instead of adding a room to the patriarchal compound…

A cement plant. They work around the clock – three shifts a day… “

“A tent.” exclaimed Jonathan, “and goats.”

“Bedouins.” she explained. “They lead their flocks to a bit of vacant land, pitch a tent, and stay for a couple of days or a week until they’ve exhausted whatever bit of green there is. Then they move on. The Bedouin sheep is one of the principal causes of the deterioration of the land over the years. They eat down to the root… Those are tanks, Arab tanks and armored vehicles. We leave them there as a kind of reminder. We caught them in our cross-fire. We were ready for them. Then we pushed them off the side of the road, and they’ve been there ever since. In the kibbutz just around the bend of the road, they have several, all painted in bright colors. The children play in them.”

The scenery, except for an occasional palm or cactus which indicated that they were in a semitropical area, was unremarkable: a flat plain with small fields under cultivation. But soon the road began to climb in long, looping curves, and the scenery changed markedly. They were approaching Jerusalem, and all about them were the ancient hills, hill folding on hill, barren and covered with rocks except for small patches of green where the hillside had been cleared of rocks which were then used to construct terraces.

“The very stones look old and worn out.” exclaimed the rabbi.

“It all looks so wasted and – and sterile.” said Miriam.

“This was a land flowing with milk and honey once.” said Gittel grimly; “and it will be again.”

They had rather expected to come upon the city suddenly, dramatically, the walled city as it appeared in the pictures they had seen, but the road they had taken passed random clumps of houses. Arab settlements where the houses adjoined like pueblos and the more modern Jewish settlements of apartment houses, and gradually the settlements appeared closer and closer together until the row of buildings became almost continuous and they realized without Gittel’s telling them that they were in the city.

They wound in and out of narrow streets lined with small, shabby stores, streets crowded with small European cars and sidewalks teeming with people. Disappointed with their first sight of the city, they looked eagerly at the passersby, calling each other’s attention to whatever was novel and strange: the occasional Chassid in his broad-brimmed black hat and long caftan, his trousers tucked into his stockings; the groups of soldiers with their guns slung over a shoulder or dangling from their fingers by the trigger guards; the Arab in his black and white keffiyah held in place by a double black cord. Then they turned a corner and came out to a wider street with buildings on only one side; on the other, the land fell away in a broad valley, and beyond it. in the distance, was the ancient walled city, like a picture in a child’s storybook.

Gittel stopped the car. “There, there is the Old City. Feast your eyes.”

“It’s beautiful.” said Miriam.

The rabbi said nothing, but his eyes were shining.

“And will we be living far from here?” asked Miriam.

“Just around the corner. You will see this every day, and you will not tire of it.”

The two men. father and son. shook hands, patted each other on the back, and stood back to look at each other. Dan Stedman indeed had been thinking of dining in the Grill where he would be likely to point out important people to his son – the wife of the British consul, the American first secretary. He was no name-dropper, but he wanted so much to have his son think well of him. And he had then decided against it for the same reason: People who knew him might come over to talk, and he wanted to have his son all to himself tonight.

But when he saw how Roy was dressed, he was doubly glad he had made no reservation at the Grill; Avram, the headwaiter. would be certain to raise objections to the boy’s attire. So he suggested the Artist’s Club, which proved to be a happy choice since several of the young patrons were dressed much like his son.

Dan had given Roy news of his mother and of his Uncle Hugo and Aunt Betty; he had described conditions in the States; the weather there – “the worst winter they’ve had in years. You don’t know how lucky you are to be here” – and his own immediate plans: “I’ll spend some time in Jerusalem and then go on to some of the other cities – Haifa. Tel Aviv, and some of the smaller places, maybe even some of the moshavim and the kibbutzim.” But transportation might be a problem. “Trouble is5 buying a new car is a matter of a couple of months, and renting will cost me an arm and a leg.”

“Whyn’t you get a good secondhand?” Roy asked.

“Well, you know how it is with secondhand cars. You don’t know what you’re getting, and if you bring in an expert, how do you know he’s not in cahoots with the seller?”

“There’s this guy, Memavet, that advertises in the Jerusalem Post, maybe in the Hebrew papers, but I don’t read them. He acts like an agent for buying and selling cars. And the way things are going right now, there’s a good chance that when you go to sell it, you can get more than you paid for it.”

“Memavet?” Dan repeated. “Funny name.”

“Yeah, ‘from death,’ right? My Hebrew is not so hot, but I know that.”

“That’s right.” his father said. “I might look in on him. I’ve already looked around a little – not here, but in Tel Aviv – and what I saw were a bunch of clunkers.”

“Oh, yeah? How long you been here. Dad?”

Dan colored and then said lightly, “Oh, a couple of days. I decided to look up some people I knew in Tel Aviv, get that out of the way before coming up to Jerusalem and seeing you. You understand.”

“Oh, sure.” Roy did not really understand, but he saw no point in making an issue of it. It crossed his mind that “the people” his father might have looked up was a woman.

“Your mother said you were unhappy here.” said Dan. to change the subject.

“Well, you know how it is.” Roy said, sipping his coffee. “The guys here and the chicks, too, they’re all such a bunch of bloody heroes. You know how Texans are supposed to be in the States? Well, that’s what they are – Jewish Texans. You’d think that each and every one of them personally won the Six-Day War. They’re always asking you how you like Israel. And if you fall all over yourself telling them how wonderful it is and how wonderful they are. like some of the American students do, they either smirk like they’re kind of embarrassed or look like you hit the nail right smack on the head, although you get the impression they’re a little surprised a clod like you could be so understanding. But if. God forbid, you should happen to say anything the least bit critical of their precious country, like about people hanging out their bedding on the front porches and beating their rugs right in the main street, or take this begging that goes on all the time, they land on you like a ton of bricks and explain how it has to be that way. or it’s something that’s ordained in the Bible. Like, take this business of the beggars. I was saying something about somebody always putting the bite on you, and this guy says that since the Bible says you got to give charity, these guys are doing an important service by being there to take it. They’re like enabling you to earn a blessing.”

His father laughed. “Well, it’s a new country –”

“Yeah, but it’s not the only country, and the rest of the world wasn’t created just to help them. And they’re always challenging you. Why is America in Vietnam? Why do we mistreat the blacks? Why don’t we do something about the poor? Why do we allow our rivers and lakes to get polluted? You find yourself on the defensive all the time.”

His father looked at him quizzically. “Weren’t you always complaining of the same thing?”

Roy flushed. “Sure, but they put it in such a way that if you agree with them, you feel like you’re brown-nosing them. And they exaggerate everything, so you try to tell them how it really is, and pretty soon you find yourself practically defending every thing American, even the things you object to yourself. And cliquey! You can hardly get one of them to tell you the right time. Especially the chicks. You try to get a date and they’re out to lunch.”

“How about the other American students?”

“Well, they’re not the kind I’d hack around with in the States. I can tell you.” Roy said. “Besides, they’re in the same boat, so what’s the point? It’s like a bunch of wallflowers at a dance trying to make out with each other. It’s even worse for the girls. The guys here act like they’re doing them a favor if they say hello. Me. I hang around with the Arab students mostly.” he added casually.

“The Arab students?”

“Yeah. Don’t sweat it. Dad. It’s the in thing right now.

Make friends with an Arab. Matter of fact, a lot of the Israelis take the point of view that they’re a lot closer to the Arabs than they are to us. since they’re Israelis, too.”

“I see.” his father said. “So that’s why you’re unhappy.11

“Well, you know, I was like on a kind of down cycle when I wrote Ma. I was homesick and dying for a hamburg or a pizza or a first-run movie, and I was alone here –”

Dan was glad of the opening. “But I’m here now,” he said.

“Sure, and don’t think it doesn’t make a difference. And these trips you’re planning, maybe I could go along and help out with the driving?11

“But your school –”

“Oh, everybody takes off. sometimes as much as a month. It’s kind of expected. How about it. Dad?”

It was a tempting picture, the two of them taking long trips together, putting up at small hotels for the night, stopping at out-of-the-way places to eat, and talking, confiding in each other, making up for the years of separation. He might even be able to influence his son, reorient his thinking, mold his character, do for him what a father should do for a son. He smiled. “Roy. you’ve got a deal.” he said, and in spite of his efforts to control it. his voice was tremulous.

By the time they had unloaded the car and unpacked their bags, night had fallen. It came suddenly as it does in the tropics, and the air became chilly. They were tired and hungry, and Miriam suggested they go to a restaurant.

“A restaurant? It is an unnecessary extravagance.” said Gittel. “There are stores – a grocery right across the street. We can buy what we need, prepare it, and serve it before a waiter in a restaurant would even take your order. Besides, what would we do with the child?”

Since the rabbi had carried Jonathan in from the car fast asleep, undressed and put him to bed still asleep, the point seemed well taken.

Gittel made further plans and arrangements for them. “Tomorrow morning we must go shopping for the Sabbath, Miriam – because on the Sabbath all places are closed,” she added to indicate that her interest was secular rather than religious. “I will take you to a large market not far from here where you wheel a little cart around and pick whatever you wish, just like in America. But first, we will arrange for Jonathan to go to school. There is a kindergarten around the corner –”

“I hadn’t thought of him going to school.” Miriam objected.

“So what else would he do? All the children are in school. If he doesn’t go, there will be no one for him to play with and you would be tied down all day. Certainly, you will want to be doing something while you are here. Now, I have a friend in the Social Service Department of the Hadassah Hospital, and she is always crying for volunteers. It is work I am sure you will enjoy. I will arrange an appointment for you.”

She told them that she wouldn’t think of leaving until she had seen them properly settled, but she was sure she could manage everything in the morning. Fortunately, there was another bed in Jonathan’s room, although she assured them it was no great matter. In Israel one could always make do; she could have bedded down on the sofa or even the floor, if necessary.

She told them of her work in Israel, of her son Uri, Miriam’s cousin, who was in the Army. “Tall and handsome he is, like his father. The girls are all crazy over him, and when he comes home on leave, I hardly get to see him.”

She noticed that the rabbi’s eyes were half-closed. Instantly she was contrite. “Here I talk and you people are dying to go to sleep.” And with a kind of wonder. “And you know, I am a little tired, too. We will all go to bed now, and tomorrow we will make our arrangements.”

The rabbi got the feeling that only because he was a rabbi, and perhaps because he was not a direct relation, did she refrain from deciding what he was to do during their stay in the country. But he did not object to going to bed, and he had no sooner put his head to the pillow than he fell fast asleep.

He was awakened suddenly by a loud thud. It was dark, and he pawed for his watch on the night table and then for his glasses to see it by. He switched on the tiny bed lamp and saw it was twelve o’clock. Beside him. Miriam stirred uneasily, but she turned over and snuggled into the bedclothes, and presently he could hear her slow rhythmic breathing once again. He switched off the light and tried to get back to sleep, but after he had tossed about for a few minutes, he realized it was useless. He was wide awake. In bathrobe and slippers he padded into the living room, took a book from the bookcase, and settled down to read. It was almost four o’clock before he returned to bed. Miriam and Gittel were preparing to go shopping when he awoke the next morning. It was late, after ten. The women had already been out and dropped Jonathan off at the kindergarten and arranged for him to go every day.

As they were leaving, he called after them. “Don’t forget to get wine for kiddush.”