Christmas for Joshua - A Novel (14 page)

She made a face. “That’s a bit harsh.”

“
I was angry, and I feared for her, becoming part of a family whose obedience to Rabbi Mintzberg is absolute, no matter the cost and pain to others. He’s an old fanatic, like the Eastern European rabbis who rejected Zionism and excommunicated anyone who suggested modern changes.”

“
My phone conversation with Dr. Levinson yesterday morning showed me that he wasn’t a fanatic like Rabbi Mintzberg. He shared my sense of humor and was straightforward in expressing regret about what had happened, implying that he was in the same boat as me, that he had no choice but to comply with those conditions or cancel the wedding. He practically disinvited Rabbi Mintzberg so I could attend the Sheva Brachot dinner and brought in Schlumacher, who is Orthodox yet modern, someone I could speak with as a contemporary, hold a normal conversation with. He accepted me the way I am, was open to my different point of view, and was interested enough to ask me to meet for breakfast to finish our discussion.”

“
Even though you made everyone call you Christian?”

“
Maybe because of that. I tested them, and they did the right thing.”

Rebecca held out a towel for me. “They’re good people.”

Rabbi Doctor Yosef Schlumacher entered the lobby just as I came out of the elevator. He looked very different than last night, wearing a Yankees cap and a sweat suit that showed a runner’s body. He saw me and waved. “Christian!”

“Out for a morning jog?”

“I try,” he said cheerfully, “and it hurts!”

“I know what you mean.” I gestured at the restaurant, where Aaron and Miriam were already sitting at our regular table. “Shall we?”

He glanced over his shoulder toward the doors to the street. “Actually, Dr. Levinson suggested we eat at Mendy’s. It’s a kosher deli not far from here.”

“Of course.” I should have thought of it myself. An Orthodox rabbi could not eat at a non-kosher hotel restaurant. “Let’s go!”

Despite the early sun, the wind was frosty. We kept a healthy pace down to the traffic light at Sixth Avenue and continued up to Forty-eighth Street, which we crossed in the last moment before the light changed.

An NYPD squad car was parked in front of Mendy’s Kosher Delicatessen. Two officers leaned against the car, chewing on bagels in wax paper, their plastic coffee cups resting on the hood.

We entered the deli, passing through the powerful downdraft of hot air from a vent over the door. I was out of breath, but not Schlumacher, who rubbed his hands with a big smile and declared, “I’m famished!”

Mordechai’s dad sat at a corner table, engaged in a phone conversation, sipping coffee. We ordered at the counter and carried our cups and bagels to his table just as he was finishing the call in Yiddish. “
Zy gezunt
,” he said, which I knew meant something like “
All the best.
”

We shook hands, and I said, “Thanks again for last night.”

“
Our pleasure. It’s the least we could do.”

Schlumacher recited a blessing, and we ate.

“
It’s a crazy week,” Dr. Levinson said. “The staff disappears in the middle of the day to do their Christmas shopping, and the patients are upset because they’re missing the best deals. And when the nurses screw up because they’re distracted, God forbid you express irritation and spoil their,” he made the sign for quotation marks, “
holiday spirit
.”

“
It’s incredible,” Schlumacher said, “how they have turned this historically solemn holiday into a meaningless frenzy of consumerism and silly jingles.”

“
And hard work for me,” Dr. Levinson said. “I’ll be working nonstop at the hospital to cover for my gentile colleagues from Christmas Eve to Monday morning. That’s four days!”

“
I usually do the same,” I said, “but this year I’m off so we can spend time with Debra and Mordechai. We really look forward to getting to know your son and introducing him to our community. Rebecca and I also come from starkly different backgrounds. Her parents were strictly observant Jews, as you know, and I had no clue about Judaism. But we compromised and have built a wonderful life together.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything.

“
This visit,” I continued, “should help Mordechai understand how Debra grew up, how she formed her views and ideas. We’re very excited about it!”

Dr. Levinson looked at Schlumacher, who smiled and said, “Knowledge and understanding are essential, if one is to make wise choices in life.”

“
And compromises,” I said, “which are also essential.” My Blackberry rang and I held it up to see the display.
Aaron Brutsky.
I answered.

“
I saw you leave the hotel,” he said without preamble. “Are you still with that psycho-rabbi?”

I laughed. “Good morning to you too, Aaron. We’re at Mendy’s. It’s a little kosher place.”

“
I know it,” he said. “Do you need me to come over?”

“
Need you?”

Sitting across from me, Dr. Levinson crumpled his empty coffee cup.

“
To give you reinforcement,” Aaron said. “I Googled your new friend. Rabbi Yosef Schlumacher, Ph.D.”

“
And?”

Papers rustled on Aaron’s end of the line. “You want to hear the titles of his recent books? One is:
Torn Apart – The Troubled Psychology of Children of Interfaith Marriages
. Another is:
Half-Baked Solutions – The Ticking Bomb of Non-Orthodox Conversions from Religious, Psychological, and Marital Perspectives
. And the most recent, co-authored with Rabbi Mintzberg:
Original Sin Exonerated – Why Orthodox Conversions Heal the Soul and Ensure Passage to Heaven
. His Ph.D. dissertation, later published by the
Journal of Psychology and Faith
, was titled:
Reform Judaism as a Stepping Stone to Heretical Atheism and Successive Generational Assimilation
.”

I pressed the phone to my ear. “Anything else?”

“
There’s a plan behind his efforts to ingratiate himself to you.”

“
Go ahead.”

“
Schlumacher is the mental health and counseling coordinator for the Rabbinical Board of Halachic Conversions, as well as chair of the Conversion Support Section of the Association of Orthodox Synagogues of America.”

I thumbed the red button and put down my Blackberry.

“
Christian,” Schlumacher said, resting his hand on my forearm, “this isn’t some kind of an ambush. You’re facing a tough decision, and we’re here to assist you in every way we can. There’s no harm in talking, right?”

It was hard not to be impressed with his cool nerves. He guessed why Aaron had called, saw my expression, and hit the nail on the head.

Dr. Levinson caught on quickly. “We only want what’s best for Debra and Mordechai. You want the same, don’t you?”

My urge to stand up and leave was hampered by a weakness that came from feeling physically sick. I’d been duped! The charming phone call yesterday morning, the withdrawal of the ancient Rabbi Mintzberg in favor of Jogging Joe Schlumacher, the faux pork dish of my childhood, and even Wagner on the Bechstein! All of their gestures had not been signs of respect and acceptance but a coordinated attack, a honey trap, intended to soften me up and lure me into an Orthodox conversion, into becoming a
real
Jew.

“
The Spanish Inquisition,” Schlumacher said, “hunted down devout Catholics whose Jewish parents or grandparents had converted to Christianity.”

I watched him speak, feeling numb.

“
They arrested those decent people and tortured them into confessing that their Catholic faith wasn’t sincere, that they secretly practiced Jewish rituals. And when a confession wasn’t forthcoming, the inquisitors continued to stretch them on the wheel, pull out their fingernails, burn their genitalia, and comb their flesh with iron rakes.” He shrugged. “No one held up forever. Every single victim eventually told his or her inquisitors what they wanted to hear. Physical pain impacts the mind like a pressure build-up inside a balloon. Eventually, it pops.”

Exhaling, I said, “And your point?”

“
The inquisitors knew that their victims’ faith was honest and sincere, that many of those men and women wanted to be good Catholics. Everyone throughout the Catholic Church hierarchy knew that confessions generated by torture had no value or veracity. But the pope himself authorized the burnings at the stake—tens of thousands of former Jews and their descendants, decent people who genuinely aspired to be faithful followers of Jesus Christ, were murdered like this over several centuries. Why?”

“
Evil hearts,” I said.

“
I don’t think so. Clergymen who spent their days praying and studying would not knowingly commit sin, especially not the sin of torturous murders.” Rabbi Doctor Schlumacher adjusted his Yankees cap. “Rather, they believed in decimating the Jews based on the absolutist concept of
limpieza de sangre
.”

“
Purity of blood,” Dr. Levinson said.

“
Just like the Nazis,” Schlumacher said, “and the Muslim fundamentalists today, the root of anti-Semitism is planted in the ideology of race, that Jews are a hateful race, physically corrupt. That’s why the inquisition killed honest Catholics whose family origins were Jewish. They were cleansing Christianity, just like the Nazis.”

I finished my coffee. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“
Two things. First, your daughter is Jewish by her mother, and therefore your grandchildren will be Jewish, which places them among the people of Torah, but also makes them subject to anti-Semitism. Second, and more important for you to understand, is that Judaism views conversions completely differently than Christianity and its inquisition. We don’t share the racist beliefs of popes and imams. Rather, our Torah says that every human being is created in the image of God, disregarding religion, ethnicity, or skin color. And being Jewish is a matter of the soul, not the body.”

“
So?”

“It’s simple,” Schlumacher said. “Once you convert properly under Orthodox supervision, no one will ever question your status as a good and complete Jew. Judaism doesn’t care about
limpieza de sangre
. Rather, purity of heart and compliance with Halacha is what Torah cares about.”

“But I converted to Judaism over two decades ago. My heart is pure.”

“We don’t question your heart,” Dr. Levinson said in a conciliatory tone. “You have good intentions, love for the Torah, and much more. But to truly become a Jew, there’s a process, which begins with one’s strict observance of the rules of Halacha. You must keep the Sabbath, follow kosher dietary rules, study the scriptures, and so on.”

“It’s not so complicated,” Schumacher said. “I’ve worked with many converts over the years. Once you embrace a life of Halacha—”

“You want me to become Orthodox?”

They both nodded.

“
Are you crazy?”

“Your wife was raised Orthodox,” Schlumacher said.

“
She grew out of it
obviously
. And we live in Arizona, for God’s sake!”

“
There are several Orthodox synagogues in the Phoenix area. I’ll put you in touch with Rabbi Pinkhas—”

“
It’s out of the question!” I got up and collected my empty cup and paper plate. “I’m the president of a Reform synagogue. All our friends are Reform Jews. That’s who we are! Who
I
am!”

Dr. Levinson stood up. “Don’t you care about Debra?”

“
She was raised Reform, and I hope she keeps our values of tolerance and acceptance. And if she decides to observe some elements of Halacha, we’ll treat her the way we expect to be treated—with the same tolerance and acceptance, which you have pretended to show me while plotting behind my back!”

My new in-law was red in the face. “You really believe that my Mordechai’s wife will be able to
tolerate and accept
that her parents eat non-kosher food and violate the Sabbath?”

“
We don’t violate the Sabbath—the Torah doesn’t forbid turning on the lights and driving a car, does it?”

“
Not explicitly,” he conceded, “but the sages, whose words are God’s words, just like Torah itself, forbid driving and cooking on the Sabbath. You do cook during the holy Sabbath, don’t you?”

“
We do,” I said, “because we no longer need to start a fire to cook, which was the reason it was forbidden in the first place.”

“
You claim to know better than hundreds of generations of rabbis why God forbade cooking on the Sabbath?”

“
Gentlemen,” Schlumacher said, “let’s not argue about theology when your children’s future is the real issue.”

“
That’s right,” I said. “We raised our daughter not to judge other people’s beliefs. We believe that God doesn’t care if we drive a car and turn on the lights on the Sabbath, or if we cook meat and dairy together as long as it’s not a calf in its mother’s milk.”