In the main sanctuary of Anshe Emes, the service is nearing its end. Rabbi Zev Saltzman moves up to the podium and waits for the hum of Hebrew prayers to fade.
“This is the time in our service,” he announces, more for the benefit of the visitors than the regulars, “when we pause to remember those of our loved ones who have died this year, and those who died at this time in years gone by.”
He gazes out at the audience, at the familiar Shabbos faces and at all the new ones.
“Before I ask our mourners to rise, I want to extend an invitation to all gathered here today to join us down in the social hall after the service for a delicious kiddush luncheon presented by a friend of our congregation, Mr. Seymour Rosenbloom. He offers the luncheon in memory of an extraordinary young woman who died on this day four years ago.”
The rabbi smiles down at Rosenbloom, who is seated in his wheelchair in the center aisle next to the sixth row of seats. Those who haven't seen Rosenbloom for a few months note that he has lost more weight. He doesn't seem to sit up quite as straight as before, and the bags under his eyes look darker. Those seated closest to him can see the tremor in his hands. But even from afar, his broad grin is as hearty as ever, and his eyes sparkle with gusto.
“Will the mourners please rise.”
The rabbi waits as many in the audience get to their feet.
“I now call to the bima,” he says, “a special member of Anshe Emes. Although he prefers the humbler title ‘sexton,' to those of us who make up the weekday minyan each morning, he is our gabbai. We now call upon our morning gabbai to lead us in the mourner's Kaddish.”
The gabbai is seated next to the aisle, with Rosenbloom on his right and Dulcie's son, Ben, on his left. As Ben stands and helps him to his feet and hands him his cane, the rabbi begins reading the names of the dead.
“. . . Saul Birnbaum . . . Eugene Chosid . . .”
The gabbai makes his way slowly up the aisle. The bullet had punched through his lower chest, splintering two ribs and deflecting at an angle through his abdomen before lodging in his spinal canal between two lumbar vertebrae. He spent eight hours on the operating table the first time as the surgeons stitched his insides back together and, after much deliberation, decided that the risks of removing the bullet outweighed the risks of leaving it there. After another operation, two more weeks in intensive care, and several months of rehabilitative therapy, the gabbai can walk with a cane, his right leg in a brace.
One day at a time, his physical therapist always reminds him.
“. . . Stanley Fink . . . Samuel Gilberg . . .”
He takes the three steps up to the bima, one by one, carefully.
“Get up!” a stern voice hisses.
The gabbai turns toward the familiar voice. Mr. Kantor is standing in the first row and glaring down at Abe Shifrin, who had been gazing ahead with a vacant smile. Shifrin looks up at Mr. Kantor with a puzzled expression.
“Now, Abe! Up.”
Shifrin gets to his feet.
“. . . Shirlee Kahn . . . Mikhail Lenga . . . Zvi Naiman . . .”
The gabbai is at the podium now. He looks around the sanctuary. Dulcie and his daughter, Lauren, stand side by side in the row he just left. Lauren leans against Dulcie and uses a handkerchief to wipe her eyes. Dulcie strokes Lauren's hair as she smiles at Hirsch. Scattered through the sanctuary are other women he knows, including several paralegals and secretaries from his office. Over near the left side stands Carrie Markman, frail but determined.
Down in the second row are the five remaining members of the Alter Kocker Brigade, all staring up at him with genial expressions. The sixth, Saul Birnbaum, passed away just last month. Along the side wall on the right stands Russ Jefferson, dressed in a dark suit and gray fedora, arms clasped in front of his hips. Seated near him are several of the FBI agents and assistant U.S. attorneys who worked on tFhe TurboGate prosecutions. Standing in the back row like some massive sentry is Jumbo Redding. He'd driven from Tennessee last night, but only after extracting a promise that they'd all go out for sushi tonight. Dulcie had made reservations at Nobu for a party that would also include Lauren, Ben, Rosenbloom, Carrie Markman, and Russ Jefferson and his wife.
“. . . Harold Rosenthal . . . Peggy Strauss . . .”
The rabbi had told him before the start of the service that he should take this occasion to say something about Judith. And now, as he listens to the names of the dead, he thinks again of what he could say to those gathered in the sanctuary, to those who've known her, to those who've only read about her, and to the man in the front row who no longer remembers her.
He'd given eulogies in the past—dozens during his glory years. He knew the language and the rhythms of tribute. He knew how to touch hearts and moisten eyes, how to make the audience sigh with grief and smile through tears. He knew the drill. It was, after all, not so different from a closing argument to a jury.
“. . . and finally—”
The rabbi pauses.
“Judith Lynn Shifrin.”
The rabbi nods toward him and steps back from the podium.
The gabbai looks out at the crowd.
Yes, he thought, there were things he could tell them about Judith, about her determination and her efforts to stop an injustice, about her faith and her sorrow, her courage and her solitude. They were all true, these things he could say. But the words were eulogy words, dulled by overuse.
He lowers his gaze to Rosenbloom, and their eyes meet. They stare at one another in the silence of the sanctuary.
After a moment, Sancho gives him a wink.
And that is when the gabbai realizes that the best words today are the same words his people have recited on this occasion for centuries—in the Sinai desert and in the Spain of Maimonedes, in the Polish shtetls and in the Park Avenue coops, in the Prague ghetto of the fourteenth century and the Warsaw ghetto of the twentieth, in the Jerusalem of Herod and the Florence of the Medicis, in the valleys and on the mountaintops and in river cities just like this one in the heart of America.
And so he says, “Please join me in the words of the Kaddish in memory of all of these good people.”
And they did.
GLOSSARY OF YIDDISH AND HEBREW TERMS
Akediah Hebrew word for “binding”; refers to the scene in the Bible where Abraham binds his son Isaac to the altar to sacrifice him. The Akediah is the point in the morning service when the minyan remembers Abraham's supreme act of self-sacrifice in obedience to God's will.
Aleinu A prayer recited near the end of every Jewish service
aleya ha'sholem “May she rest in peace.”
Alter Kocker an old man
bar mitzvah The coming-of-age ceremony marking the fact that a boy has reached the age of thirteen and is thus obligated to observe the commandments.
bima the pulpit
bobba grandmother
boychik young boy (term of endearment)
bupkes something of no value (literally: beans)
chumash The compilation of the first five books of the Bible and readings from the prophets, organized in the order of the weekly Torah portions
gabbai the sheriff of the congregation who chooses who is to be called up to the bima to receive an aliyah (the honor of reciting a blessing over the Torah) or to read from the Torah; a position of great honor and respect within the congregation
goniff thief
goyishe kup used to indicate a person who is not smart or shrewd: goyishe=non-Jewish; kop=head. Opposite is a yiddishe kup.
Kaddish The prayer associated with mourning and recited by the mourner for eleven months after the death of a loved one and then on each anniversary (yahrzeit) thereafter
Kiddish A prayer recited over wine at the beginning of a festive meal on the Shabbat or other holiday; shorthand for the luncheon held in the synagogue after Shabbat services
kippah skullcap, yarmulke
latkes traditional potato pancakes served on Chanukah
mensch term of res
pect for a special person (“He's a real mensch.”)
minyan quorum (generally ten men) required for praying as a “community,” or for the public reading of the Torah, or for reciting the Kaddish or other ritual matters of special holiness
mitzvah a good deed (literally, a command of God)
oy an expression of dismay, astonishment, concern, or pain
pushke little charity box for coins
putz a jerk (slang word for penis)
schlemiel an inept person, a fumbler
schmendrick a stupid person
schmuck derisive term for a man (slang word for penis)
schvartza a black person
Shabbas Sabbath (also, Shabbat)
shammas the sexton or beadle of the congregation, the person who takes care of the physical plant
shanda shame or disgrace
Shemoneh Esrei A prayer that is at the center of every Jewish service and consists of nineteen blessings
shiva mourning period of seven days observed by family and friends of the deceased
shtupping sexual intercourse
siddur Jewish prayer book
tallit a prayer shawl worn during morning services with tzitzit (long fringes) attached to each of the four corners
tefillin phylacteries, i.e., leather pouches containing scrolls with passages of scripture, used to fulfill the commandment to bind the commandments to your hands and between your eyes
tsouris trouble, suffering
yahrzeit the anniversary of the death of a close relative
zayde grandfather
PUBLISHED BY DOUBLEDAY
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DOUBLEDAY and the portrayal of an anchor with a dolphin areregistered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Baron, Michael, 1952–
The mourning sexton: a novel of suspense / Michael Baron.—1st ed.
p. cm.
1. Jewish lawyers—Fiction. 2. Attorney and client—Fiction.3. Products liability—Fiction. 4. Saint Louis (Mo.)— Fiction. 5. Jews—Missouri—Fiction. 6. Ex-convicts—Fiction. 7. Jewish men—Fiction.
I. Title.
PS3602 .A7774M68 2005
813' .6—dc22
2004052890
Copyright © 2005 by Michael Baron
All Rights Reserved
eISBN: 978-0-385-51519-1
v3.0
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