Lemmy saw the joy on his mother’s face as she filled the kids’ plates and caressed their heads. He thought of her face the other night, the film of sweat, the pleasure, and the agony. He could not drive the image from his mind, could not forget that her utmost desire-to bear children-was denied by his father, who made everyone believe it was God who was keeping Temimah barren.
The meal lasted a long time, with singing and several toasts in honor of the young couple. Lemmy chatted with Sorkeh, doing his best to be cordial. But whenever his father spoke, he looked away, afraid that his eyes would betray his feelings.
That night he again read The Painted Bird, falling into a fitful sleep that left him tired and confused.
D uring Sabbath morning prayers, at the conclusion of his sermon, Rabbi Gerster said, “I understand that some of you wish to hold a protest later against the faithless Zionists. Remember, however, the words of the Torah: You shall not raise your hand against your brother! Your behavior must exemplify the righteousness of this community.”
Sabbath lunch felt as if it would never end. Lemmy couldn’t wait to go to Tanya’s house. But after the blessing, Rabbi Gerster told Lemmy to join the other young members of Neturay Karta, who were leaving soon for the demonstration.
A s soon as the group reached the intersection of Jaffa and King George streets, Lemmy noticed several police vans parked up the street.
Redhead Dan stepped into the road and waved his fists at passing cars. “Sabbath! Sabbath!”
The cars swerved into the opposite lane to avoid the blackgarbed man. The drivers cursed through open windows. Some raised their middle finger.
Surrounded by other Neturay Karta men, his flaming beard and payos flapping in the wind, Redhead Dan shouted, “Sabbath! Sabbath!” He chased slow-moving cars and pounded on them with his fists. “ He who violated the Sabbath is destined to die! Stone him with rocks until his soul leaves his body! ”
The quote was correct, Lemmy knew, but Talmud disfavored capital punishment, saying that a Sanhedrin, a rabbinical court, which issued one death sentence in seventy years, was a deadly Sanhedrin.
The parked police vans turned on their flashing lights, their doors opened, and policemen jumped out. They put on their helmets and held up their shields and truncheons.
Redhead Dan grabbed Lemmy’s arm, pulled him up front, and yelled, “Our rabbi sent his son! God will punish you if you touch the rabbi’s son!”
Lemmy tried to free his arm. “Are you crazy? We can’t fight them!”
“God will fight for us!”
“They knew we were coming!”
“Don’t worry, the whole Zionist army couldn’t silence God’s voice!”
“It’s a trap!”
Redhead Dan was too worked up to listen. “The Zionists are afraid of us! They’re afraid of you, Gerster!”
Lemmy looked across the street at the policemen. The major stepped forward and smirked, swinging his baton.
Another attempt to release his arm from Redhead Dan’s grip failed. The young man didn’t even notice. He pulled Lemmy after him while the group clustered tightly, their faces touched by fear.
The policemen lined up along the opposite curb.
Redhead Dan dragged Lemmy with him to the side of the road and lifted a stone as big as a fist. “ He, who violated My Sabbath, stone him to death! ”
Lemmy shouted, “Don’t!”
“It’s God’s war!”
Additional police cars blocked the surrounding streets. Traffic ceased, and the men of Neturay Karta faced the policemen in riot gear and truncheons.
Major Buskilah held a tin cone to his mouth. “Disperse immediately!”
In response, Redhead Dan raised his hand, reached back, and hurled the rock across the street. It flew in a wide arc and hit one of the policemen, who cried and fell down. Major Buskilah lowered the tin cone and shouted orders to his troops.
“God is with us! Repent, or go to hell!”
Across the street, the injured policeman was carried away, his cracked helmet remaining behind.
Redhead Dan took another step toward the middle of the road. “Sinners must be punished!”
Lemmy threw all his weight backward, certain that his arm was going to snap out of his shoulder. He saw Major Buskilah signal his men, and three things happened at once: The policemen rushed forward, Lemmy put his foot aside and tripped Redhead Dan, and the men of Neturay Karta fled.
The policemen circled the two of them. Redhead Dan got up, clenching his fists, and the major swung his truncheon and hit him on the side of the head. As he fell down, the truncheon landed on his back and thighs, again and again, making a sickening, hollow sound, while Redhead Dan screamed.
“Stop it!” Lemmy lunged toward the major, but two policemen restrained him.
The beating continued until Redhead Dan stopped screaming.
Major Buskilah gave him a kick, which produced no response from the unconscious man. The major turned to Lemmy, panting, his face red, the truncheon clutched in his hand. “Who’s laughing now, punk?”
“Satan, probably.” Lemmy didn’t lower his eyes.
The major holstered his truncheon, took Lemmy’s arm, and pulled up the sleeve of his black coat, exposing the red skin left by Redhead Dan’s grip. He showed the mark to his men. “Looks like evidence of resistance, boys?”
They laughed, and Major Buskilah shoved him. “Go home, boy. Tell your father that the Zionist police treated you fairly. Go on!”
Lemmy picked up his hat. “What about him?” He gestured at Redhead Dan.
“We’ll take care of him,” Major Buskilah said. “Go home!”
Chapter 18
Elie Weiss waited until Monday night, allowing Redhead Dan two days to stew in pain and fear in the windowless cell at the police lockup. Major Buskilah’s deputies pushed Elie into the cell, where he collapsed on the floor, wrapped up in his beggar’s cloak.
The young Neturay Karta man was sitting in the corner on the concrete floor, cuddled in his black coat, mumbling Psalms from memory. A light bulb hung from a wire, illuminating his bruised face.
Elie shuffled to the wall and propped himself up to a sitting position. “May God burn their souls in hell!”
“Amen.” Redhead Dan coughed. “What happened to you?”
“The Zionists.” The fake beard itched, and he scratched quickly. “They don’t like what I have to say.”
“They arrested you for talking?”
“Beat me up, too. With sticks, for speaking the words of the Prophet Ezekiel: And He said to me, prophesy upon these bones, and tell them: Listen, dry bones, to the word of God! ”
Hearing the biblical words intoned in the manner of a learned scholar seemed to reassure Redhead Dan. “But why did the Vision of the Dry Bones upset them so much?”
“They said the prime minister couldn’t sleep, that I was keeping him up.”
“You recited Ezekiel by his house at night?”
“Is he home during the day?”
Redhead Dan described his own painful experience. Elie’s sympathy was forthcoming as he listened to a lengthy rant against the state and its sinful ways. He steered the conversation to personal facts, asking the ultra-Orthodox man about his life in Meah Shearim, his family, and his studies. Elie reciprocated by sharing his own version of personal history, a mix of fact and fiction, of growing up in an Orthodox family in Germany, embracing modern socialist ideas, running away with a Zionist group to start a kibbutz near Lake Kinneret in Palestine, farming the land, fighting the British army for independence, and risking his life in the wars against the Arabs in 1948 and 1956. But Elie’s invented biography veered off the common path of secular Zionism when he had supposedly regained his faith in God and started observing the Sabbath. The kibbutz expelled him with nothing but a few items of clothing and a sandwich, which he couldn’t eat as it was not kosher. He settled in Jerusalem, working in construction and preaching Ezekiel, which had presently landed him in jail.
>
They spoke about the heretic Zionists, who were about to legalize abortions. As their discussion went from conceptual ideas to concrete facts, Elie led Redhead Dan to the eventual conclusion that, as the ultimate leader of the Zionist state, Prime Minister Levi Eshkol was responsible for a legislation process that would cause the murder of unborn, yet viable, Jewish children. “It’s driven from the top,” Elie said. “The prime minister must be made an example for all sinners!”
The Talmudic scholar in Redhead Dan emerged, and he quoted a whole section of Jewish law dealing with the concept of Rodef, where Talmud required the preemptive killing of a Jew who is actively attempting to hurt other Jews. The blood of such a pursuer must be spilled under the concept of collective self-defense before he succeeded in his attempt to hurt other Jews.
When first light showed in the barred window, Elie closed his eyes and said, “I think God wanted us to meet. It is written: In a place where there are no men, be a man! You and I must be men. We must bring down the Zionists and renew our people’s faith in God!”
“We? How could we-”
“A man of faith can decide to smash the idols, just like Abraham the patriarch did.” Elie leaned closer and whispered, “I have made that decision. And so can you.”
“ Me? ”
“Why do you think God put us in the same cell? It’s His design!”
Redhead Dan nodded slowly.
“God wants us to stop the Zionists, to prevent the killing of Jewish babies.” Elie glanced at the door and spoke into the young man’s ear. “I can’t do it alone. I need two more men of strength and faith in the Master of the Universe.”
“But how?”
“You feel powerless?”
“Yes!”
Elie showed him a fist. “God created explosives for a reason! To give us power!”
The guards’ voices came through the steel door.
“Thursday at midnight, at the gate on Shivtay Israel Street. Be there, in God’s name!”
Chapter 19
On Wednesday morning, as the men had their tea and bread in the forecourt of the synagogue, Lemmy saw Redhead Dan limping up the alley from the gate. Many of the younger men hurried to welcome him, singing, “ Connive and scheme-it shall not work! Conspire and curse-it shall not stand! For God is with us! God is with us! ”
They accompanied him into the synagogue and over to his seat next to Yoram. The forced smile on Redhead Dan’s face contrasted with the bruises and the black eye. After a few moments, everyone returned to their open Talmud volumes, puffing on cigarettes.
At the conclusion of a morning of study, they recited the noon prayers and went outside to eat lunch and discuss the coming vote in the Knesset. Later that day, the proposed abortion law was scheduled to be presented to the assembly for a second call which, if passed, would allow the committee to submit it for a third and final call, when a majority vote would turn the proposal into law.
The religious parties in the Knesset had announced that they would abstain. Opposition leader Menachem Begin had yet to tell his caucus how to vote, but Prime Minister Levi Eshkol announced that the Labor party and its coalition partners would vote in favor of the proposed law. However, some in Neturay Karta speculated that many Knesset members would defy their party leaders and refuse to support the legalization of infanticide.
Lemmy stood with Benjamin, chewing on a piece of bread and listening to the discussions, which quieted down when Rabbi Gerster came out of the synagogue. He searched the crowd, saw Lemmy, and summoned him with a curled finger.
A half hour later, they arrived at the police compound at the Russian Yard on Jaffa Street. A policeman showed them into Major Buskilah’s office.
“I want to know,” Rabbi Gerster demanded, “why did you beat my disciple?”
“For the same reason I let your son go.” The major pointed at his belt, which rested on the desk with the holstered gun and truncheon. “Violence will be met with violence, peaceful protest will be met with peaceful measures.” He gestured at two metal chairs. “Please.”
Rabbi Gerster sat down, but Lemmy remained standing.
“I hope the lesson was clear enough for the other Talmudic scholars.”
“That violence must be met with violence?” The rabbi pointed at the truncheon. “This type of reasoning could go both ways, back and forth, worse and worse, until we lose control and spill blood.”
“There won’t be any violence on our side if your guys stop throwing rocks at people every time you disagree with something. We’re not Neanderthals any longer, you know?”
Lemmy stepped forward, but his father raised a hand, stopping him, and said, “Hurtling insults is a common prelude to hurtling rocks. I’m here to make sure we don’t have either.”
Major Buskilah nodded. “I’m listening.”
“If a Knesset majority supports the proposed abortion law, Neturay Karta will have to march in protest, bring out the word of God. But we will remain peaceful and hurt no one as long as we are not attacked by others.”
“I will communicate the request to those who make such decisions.”
“We seek Shalom,” the rabbi said, using the Hebrew word for peace, “but Torah requires us to denounce sinners. We’ll need safe passage and an opportunity to be heard without harassment.” He stood and turned to leave, but when his eyes met Lemmy’s, something in his expression communicated an implied license to act.
Without haste, Lemmy pulled the major’s truncheon out of its holster, grasped it with both hands, lifted it high, and with all his strength landed it across the back of the metal chair. The wooden truncheon broke in half.
Lemmy put the handle on the desk, picked up the other part, and placed it next to the handle. “Good day,” he said and followed his father.
They left the police compound and went through the market on Jaffa Street, with its clutter of shoppers and vendors under a whirl of dust. The noise jarred Lemmy’s ears, and the dense air burned his tired eyes. He followed his father’s wide back through the chaos.
The narrow passageway welcomed them with the familiar foul smell. The beggar in a hooded cloak was sitting by the door on crossed legs, his back to the wall, reciting from Psalms. Rabbi Gerster placed the sacred book in the beggar’s lap and went inside. Lemmy followed.
They washed their hands, stepped outside, and recited the appropriate prayer. Rabbi Gerster took the book from the beggar’s lap and dropped a coin in his cup. The beggar did not look up.
D uring the evening, news filtered into the synagogue that the abortion vote was delayed, as the Knesset was engaged in a heated debate over military issues. Earlier in the day, the Syrian defense minister, Hafez al-Assad, had accused Israel of planning an attack on Syria on behalf of the United States in order to topple the Syrian Ba’ath regime. He declared: “The Syrian army would destroy the Jews!” Egyptian president Nasser followed with a promise to “Recover the stolen Arab land and throw the Jews into the sea.” Meanwhile, retired general Moshe Dayan opined from the Knesset podium that the government’s sheepish response to Arab threats amounted to an invitation for attack: “The current leadership is putting our collective neck on the executioner’s block,” Dayan said.
The debate in the Knesset continued into the night, and many Neturay Karta men remained in the synagogue, praying and studying.
Shortly after four on Thursday morning, the Voice of Israel reported on the radio that, after a brief presentation and without much debate, a majority of the Knesset approved the proposed abortion law, which was sent back to the committee for fine-tuning before its submission for a final vote.
From the time the news came until sunrise, the synagogue bustled with anger over the new Zionist atrocity. A large group clustered around Redhead Dan, who explained that this law was not another instance of the Zionists committing personal sins, such as driving on Sabbath or digging up sacred graves. Rather, the Zionists had reached a new low, combining two of the greatest sins: Shedding the blood of ano
ther Jew and defiance of God’s first mitzvah to procreate and fill the land with their seed.
After morning prayers, the men lined up before Rabbi Gerster to receive the white envelopes containing bundles of Israeli liras, which they took outside and handed to their wives to shop for the Sabbath. Rabbi Gerster did not come out to bless the families of Neturay Karta, but told the men to go home and change into their best clothes.
O n hearing the news of the abortion vote, Elie Weiss drove to the Knesset building. The note inside Abraham’s book yesterday had made it clear that a showdown was only a matter of time:
If the legislation passes second call in the Knesset, I’ll have to lead the protests. Neturay Karta will be joined by many others. Buskilah must control his policemen. No shooting-we don’t need martyrs. p.s. Did you reach Tanya?
At the service entrance in the rear of the Knesset building, Elie was directed into the underground garage, through a second security checkpoint, to a long, gray Chevrolet, which was guarded by two men in short-sleeve shirts.
Prime Minister Levi Eshkol was in the back seat, reviewing a pile of documents. He glanced up when Elie got in and returned to his papers, penning brief notations on each document. When he finished, the prime minister lowered the window and handed the document to one of the guards. “So, Weiss,” he said, “what bad news do you have for me today?”
“Religious riots against the abortion law.”
“My enemies should have my luck.” Eshkol sighed. “Abortions! My fellow Yids think we’re in Holland. Next thing they’ll be planting tulips. Can you believe it? Not a generation since the Nazis killed two million Jewish children, and we talk about abortions. We need babies, not abortions!”
The Jerusalem inception Page 12
