Jew Off the Graph3rd Place in the Fiction Writing Contest
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Issue 17
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Like any curious young boy whose parents were tight-lipped, he foraged through junk drawers in his mother’s old chifforobe, a combination closet and a chest of drawers, where there were unlikely things buried in the drawers. Buttons, garment trimmings, handkerchiefs, trinkets, costume jewelry were predictable, undefinable paraphernalia.
In the second drawer, a skull cap, a prayer shawl, phylacteries, papers committing his older brother to a mental hospital. In the bottom drawer was a box of condoms, an illustrated pornographic book in French and a handwritten essay in his father’s writing, entitled The Chasity Belt, purporting that the medieval restraint was imaginary. His father cast doubt on its alleged purpose, to preserve the purity of maidens left behind, as men went to the Crusades. It was unfinished, bearing the comment, “hypocrisy, more research...” The young boy was unusually analytical and perceptive. He was clear that males despite chivalrous displays men enjoyed a dominant role. He wondered what chaste women thought. His mother and father were both offspring sired by Chassidic Rabbis married to Jewish wives, yet they never went to pray at a synagogue, not even on high holidays. His father was clean-shaven and did not wear curled forelocks. His mother had a full head of her own hair, not a shaven head and a set of wigs to wear outside their home, though she sometimes wore a babushka. They didn’t keep a kosher home. The humorous anecdote which suggests that Jews answer a question with another question was illustrated by both his parents. Occasionally they might direct him to where he could obtain the answer. Not to ask a Rabbi. He was chided for being a pest, was called in Yiddish, a nudnick. He was left to speculate why they had abandoned their orthodox upbringing, though his father’s photographic memory was crowded with aphorisms and rules for living in a compilation of laws and customs found in the Talmud. Hypocrites say one thing and practice another. He concluded that the murder of family members by Nazis was for them a last straw. And they renounced their faith in God. Yet they insisted he go to Hebrew School, learn the language and the history and culture. In return he was entrusted to decide, when he was confirmed at age thirteen to be a man, to choose what course his religious persuasion, if any might be, including abstention. He felt irrevocably a Jew in name only. He was reminded by his mother that when he was confirmed, if he chose not to observe the high holidays, that she agreed with his father who told him that he needed to stay out of sight in their neighborhood. The weather oddly often was nicest on Jewish holidays. He wanted to avoid provoking his parents’ supervision or reproach so he left home before sunrise and returned after dark when dressed casually. He locked horns with the Hebrew language instructor and the Rabbi who were inflexible and babbled endlessly about having faith. At Hebrew school and the synagogue, he spent considerable time in the rest room reading. “Rabbi, I do not believe that there is a Lord to punish and reward. I do not believe that there is a promised land after death. Purported heritage and mythical tales can’t displace my thoughtful doubts.” “For example, young man?” The Rabbi foresaw a sulky bad tempered discussion. “The Christian men who went off to medieval Crusades my father believes immorally insulted the truth and women by falsely creating a myth of chastity belts, which never happened. Yet, he saw models in a museum.” The Rabbi was floored and amused. He suppressed his expression. He wisely resisted criticizing opposing believers. And held out for acceptance, “You were born Jewish. You are defiant of misrepresentation, what do you believe?” He was hesitant to preach to a Rabbi, an authority who must be obeyed. “I believe that an ideal person should pay attention to what they say and what they do and be trying to do what pleases him or her while actually being kind-hearted and helpful.” “What about God?” “There are many different stories of belief, of what is right and wrong. I respect my parents who brought me into the world. I believe they try hard. No one wants to talk about terrible discrimination in relation to a supposed God. There is no justification in my mind. I feel sorry for those who perished and for my parents. I was conceived. I am happy to be alive.” “Young man. You are studying your heritage and your religious testament and will be deemed a man upon completion of a ceremonial recitation of the Torah. You will be presenting an analysis in a spiritual message to a congregation.” “I am somewhat tone deaf which I mourn. I love music, singing, ancient chants. I want to please my parents. I can read and understand Hebrew. For now, I believe that I am compliant. I feel that I am intelligent and well-intended. Rabbi I will perform to the best of my ability. Please don’t be punitive or speculate about blessed behavior for me.” “I will pray for you, young man.” He was maligned and harassed as a heretic by a few older relatives who knew his point of view but quietly he held his ground. He refused to debate. Finally, he accused his elders of being un-American and tried to placate them by promising that he would keep his views to himself. He claimed neither faith nor disbelief in a higher power. As a child growing up in a tenement in a poor neighborhood, he demonstrated mental discernment and good judgment, the shrewdness of a leader. He deputized his friends to frame questions for anyone before seeking advice from him. Despite the dedication and devotion of a spiritual individual to a deity or religious practice he did not imbue ultimate importance or inviolability to that person. Ultimately, he aimed to meet his own self-conceived high standards. He focused on identifying and attaining, aiming to become a paragon of his self-determined virtues. He thrived on critical examination, was unaccepting, in the absence of evidence or proof, of blind faith. Human beings most people believe are social creatures and a loner as some called him often was viewed as a deviant. A which-came-first-puzzle defying solution exists like a freight train, a deity, a human, then the need to rationalize, to fabricate, to glorify, concede to, lead, exemplify, model, bond together, build and rebuild, fit, inspire, nestle, protect, sort the complexity of loving. He is fine as he is, complete until nudged by an idea called out to him to plant his feet to gain purchase, recheck, reconsider, relocate, dig in. He must be counted. He wants to share his view of faith and belief with a primal scream caused by a childhood trauma memory, released openly and unashamedly to relieve his pain. Why scream on second thought? To purge and clarify? Rather be involved in one’s own destiny. He supported his self-image, unlike narcissus, didn’t feel entitled, didn’t crave for admiration, didn’t project as self-important. One Christian sect views its members as angelic. A universalist church features a template of beliefs derived from multiple other formal religions. Both invited his interest but required membership and financial support, which he declined. He has not yet nor will he star in a soliloquy and chant at his mirror image asking who is the fairest of them all. Why can’t one simply reflect on needs, goals and behaviors, modify or reaffirm as warranted? Why heed anxiety or anger to appease an advocate? He views himself as a Jew Off the Graph, not the wandering kind who as legend claims was cursed to roam the earth until the second coming of Christ. He opts to respectfully offer to deist-others this exhortation, calling out to his side as in the context of the bible to encourage believers, follow the biblical teachings of love and community, only if truly you believe in God’s will and teachings. He will randomly wander along the winding course of his life, defining himself, resetting his course by deciding and acting, rather than worrying about what others believe, think, adopt or support. Ironically the self-leaning advice offered in the spirit of finding meaning in the statement of beliefs by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, a misbegotten popular religionist of the 1950’s intended to popularize the power of positive thinking, in a badly conceived, badly designed, badly planned deist philosophy in his book. When you expect the best, you release a magnetic force which by (an undefined) law of attraction tends to bring the best to you, Peale contends. Notable quotes in his book The Power of Positive Thinking seem to be well intended and reassuring, to arouse a naïve reader as if with a ghostly body she/he is trying on a desirous outfit to acquire useful advice, advance a belief in oneself, have faith in one’s abilities. Peale empathizes with pithy observations, like the tests of life are not to break you but to make you, problems are to the mind what exercise is to the muscles; they toughen and make strong, stand up to obstacles and do something about them....they have half the strength you think they have, As if prayers will spontaneously ignite and flame into being. |
Mel Einhorn is an octogenarian reemerging writer and poet tests his mettle.
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