One of them raised his hand. “Why don’t we raid Meah Shearim tonight and search door to door?”
Elie was ready with an answer. “The political situation, especially with the abortion vote coming up, would make such a search appear to be politically motivated to harass the religious community.”
Another man said, “We can shoot them on approach, before they attack.”
“Israeli forces don’t shoot at unarmed Jews,” Elie said, “especially while a bunch of journalists are watching from the roof. A mishap like that could turn the whole Jewish world against this government. As you know, our desperate armament needs depend on the generosity of the Diaspora, especially American Jews.”
Some of the men nodded.
“You may only-and I emphasize the word only — shoot after you have clearly witnessed one or both of them using deadly weapons. Now, that’s me.” He pointed to a black pushpin at the intersection of King George and Ramban streets. “I’ll be scouting their probable approach path, dressed as an ultra-Orthodox Jew for the occasion, so make sure not to shoot me.”
Several of the soldiers laughed.
“Remember that on Sabbath morning many religious Jews go to their synagogues. Watch carefully, but do not engage anyone until you witness an actual attack. That’s your license to kill. Any more questions?”
Someone asked, “Why don’t we stop and search black hats who approach the area? If they carry nothing, let them walk. Why take the risk?”
It was a good question that Elie had expected. “We can’t stop and search religious Jews randomly. It would be viewed as police harassment of the innocent Orthodox community. And if we’re lucky enough to actually stop these two, they might detonate and kill themselves and the arresting officers. Either way, it’s bad. Better let them go through with whatever they’ve planned and act according to the orders you have received.”
There were no more questions. Major Buskilah dismissed the troops until sunrise.
T he tall windows of the synagogue grew darker. Lemmy watched from his bench in the rear as his father mounted the dais and kissed the blue velvet curtain of the Ark. The silence was deep, almost unreal for a hall filled with hundreds of men. The moment of truth had arrived. Their rabbi was about to reveal his decision: How would Neturay Karta combat the Zionists’ most infuriating sin to date.
Rabbi Gerster’s face was white under the black hat. He opened his arms as if he wanted to embrace his followers. “I love you, my sons, as I love my Creator, His name be blessed.” He sighed. “I have sought His guidance. I have prayed and studied the words of the sages.”
A murmur passed through the hall.
“Yes, we all want the Zionists to put aside their heretical law that sanctions the murder of innocent Jewish babies. And, yes, we want them to embrace God’s law, so that one who commits an abortion shall be punished as a murderer.”
Before Rabbi Gerster could continue, Redhead Dan sprang up from his seat and yelled, “Kill Levi Eshkol!” His payos wriggled wildly as he turned left and right and yelled again, “It is written: He who comes to kill a Jew, kill him first!” He earned loud applause, which encouraged him. “Smash the head of the snake! Bring down the defiler of God!”
Lemmy noticed Yoram, who sat next to Redhead Dan, raise his beady eyes to his admired study companion. It was neither a glance of support nor of admiration, but of fear.
“Our learned friend,” Rabbi Gerster said, “wants to kill the Zionist prime minister.”
“It’s God’s will,” Redhead Dan yelled.
The rabbi nodded. “It reminds me of the story about a man who stood in line at the post office with a package.”
The men hushed each other. They loved the rabbi’s stories. Redhead Dan sat down.
“After waiting for three hours to send his package, the line was still long. His feet hurt terribly, his shirt stuck to his back with sweat, and he got so angry that he dropped the package and screamed that he was going to kill Prime Minister Eshkol. A woman standing in line behind him promised to keep his spot, and he ran off to kill Eshkol.”
A few men laughed.
Rabbi Gerster took out his white handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his face. “An hour later he returned. The line had moved forward a bit, and the woman who had kept his spot asked, So, did you kill him? The man answered, No, I couldn’t, because the line there is even longer!”
The hall exploded with laughter.
Redhead Dan stood up, ready to speak.
“Some of us,” Rabbi Gerster said, “believe the abortion law is a reason to go to war against the Zionist regime even today, when millions of Arab enemies are gathering to attack this sliver of the Promised Land from all directions. Some of us believe God demands that we raise our hands against our misguided brothers. But I disagree.”
A collective sigh came in response-a sigh of relief or of disappointment, Lemmy couldn’t tell.
“God is our beacon,” the rabbi declared, “the divine luminary that guides us. How could we spill blood because of laws made by foolish, faithless men in the Knesset?”
Redhead Dan’s round face was crimson. “Kill the Rodef to save the babies!”
“The law of Rodef is an extreme exception, narrowly defined.” The rabbi looked up in contemplation. “As Talmud tells the story of Yoav and Asa’el, God permits striking a pursuer in the fifth rib to disable him, but killing is allowed only if nothing else would stop the Rodef from murdering another Jew. Now, even if we assume that the Zionist prime minister is a pursuer who is intent on killing-”
“He is!” Redhead Dan looked around, seeking support. “God expects us to cut him down before-”
“And even if his demise would cause their Knesset to drop the abortion legislation and instead pass a law that banned abortions altogether, it would still be a meaningless law, wouldn’t it?”
The cryptic question ignited a flurry of hushed exchanges as the men consulted their study companions.
The Zionists enacting the opposite law?
The Knesset banning abortions?
Meaningless?
Why?
“No!” Redhead Dan must have felt compelled to respond, as if the question had been directed at him. “It wouldn’t be meaningless! It would be God’s law!”
The rabbi’s voice remained calm. “Do you really think that a law passed by the secular Zionists would stop faithless women from promiscuity? Prevent unwanted pregnancies? Save innocent babies from the abortionist’s blade?” He caressed his beard. “Such a law would only send confused women to back alleys in search of help.”
The crowd muttered in agreement.
“All we can achieve by fighting the Zionist laws is to endanger the lives of mothers on top of the babies. You remember Solomon’s judgment, yes?”
Many of the men nodded.
“Laws inscribed by human hands are meaningless,” Rabbi Gerster said. “Without faith in God, women wouldn’t know any better. It’s a waste of time to fight against Zionist laws, an exercise in futility that won’t help them see the light.”
Redhead Dan yelled, “But they’re blind!”
“By studying Talmud, by setting an example of a righteous life, by praying to God for an end to sins, we can bring out the light of Judaism. I therefore decree that in this community we shall never again mention the laws of the Zionists.” Rabbi Gerster shut his eyes, his face turned up, his hands stretched out in a gesture of begging, and his sad baritone filling the halclass="underline" “ This world is just a very narrow bridge. ”
The men of Neturay Karta joined their rabbi’s singing, “ Leading to Heaven; so don’t be afraid, no fear at all. ”
Their voices grew stronger, their bodies swayed back and forth, and they joined in a forceful, repeated affirmation of faith, “ This world is just a very narrow bridge. ”
From the rear of the hall, Lemmy’s lips moved with the words, yet his voice was mute. His body swayed, yet his heart remained indifferent. He looked at Benjamin, whose eyelids were shut tightly, his hands pressed against his chest, his voice trembling, “ So don’t be afraid, no fear at all. ” Watching his devoutness, Lemmy knew the gap between them had widened. Tears filled his eyes, and for the second time that night, he left the synagogue unnoticed.