This is our fifth and last installment of the diary of a
baal teshuva yeshiva bochur whose parents come to
Israel to whisk him back home.
August 7
Dearest Diary,
O.K. I know that you're curious. Can't blame you. But I want
to tell first things first. But one hint I'll give you, if
you're already trying to guess. Our plane tickets, three of
them, are dated August 7, which is also the date displayed on
the calendar behind the front desk of the King David Hotel.
So... you ask. Figure it out yourself or just be patient.
Irwin came by the hotel bright and early saying, "Rise and
shine and give G-d the glory." It was 7:15 a.m. Irwin did us
a special favor and davened at the crack of dawn.
Melvin threw the pillow at him and growled, "I'll give you
the glory." "But it's your last day, folks, and you have to
utilize every minute. Let's get going!"
I never would have believed we could/would do it, but we were
dressed by 7:30. O.K. maybe for a plane, once in a while, but
for a visit to a yeshiva?
By 8:30 Irwin had us in the yeshiva office to meet the Rosh
Yeshiva. When he asked us what questions we had, Melvin hit
on a hot topic. "Would you advise Irwin to attend the wedding
of his best friend who is engaged to a gentile?" (Irwin
blanched.) When the rabbi answered a flat "No," Melvin
erupted, "I knew it. I knew he would say that. They're all so
(blank) close-minded and prejudiced." The Rabbi could
tolerate no more and calmly cut in, "Pardon me. Do you know
why I would advise your son not to go? Judaism strongly
believes in the importance of friendship, and of positive
expressions of that friendship, such as attending the wedding
of a best friend, which, by the way, is a mitzva on
its own accord even without the friendship. However, we
cannot, as a people, condone national suicide. We cannot in
all honesty advise a Jew to rejoice at the wedding of another
Jew who will be cutting himself off from thousands of years
of his heritage, whose children will not be Jewish. It is not
an attempt to be cruel in any manner, merely an attempt to
save a nation, and a Jew who will be casting off his rich
heritage."
Melvin was absolutely dumbfounded, speechless for a change.
The Rabbi excused himself that he had a class to give but
welcomed further communications. He closed with, "I would
just like to say that it has been a tremendous pleasure
having Irwin with us here in the yeshiva. He has been a great
asset to our team. He has proven to be a diligent student as
well as a mentsch of the highest caliber. And we know
that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, so Irwin must
have two very fine parents. Thank you!" Melvin was grinning
from ear to ear and managed a "Thank you, Rabbi." I, of
course, was holding back my tears.
Irwin then segregated us. "Sorry, Mom; women aren't allowed
to attend classes at the yeshiva. But I arranged a schedule
for you this morning at a seminary which I'll bring you to
now. Dad and I will come to pick you up later, and we'll go
out for lunch."
Irwin took me over and I promised I'd keep my eyes open for a
good catch for him. He blushed. "You know I'm not ready yet."
I had a grand time listening to the classes. It felt like I
was back in college, but different. I was amazed at how much
these people had it together. I mean, they had answers to the
important questions --- Why are we here? Why is there anti-
semitism? What does it mean to `be chosen'? Was the world
created or did it evolve? They also had questions of their
own, like: Is technological development synonymous with a
better world? Does higher education guarantee higher moral
standards? And it wasn't just the rabbis who knew what was
going on; it was the girls, themselves, who did much of the
argumentation.
Melvin looked pretty good when they came to pick me up. He
wore a cryptic smile, a sort of Mona Lisa grin, Melvin-style.
I asked him about his morning and he just ignored the
question and asked, "What will you have for lunch, dear?"
When we were settled down at some table at a grill restaurant
of Irwin's choosing, he broke his enigmatic silence and said,
"Well, they're not putting a shtreimel on me just yet,
but it was quite an interesting experience." That was big,
coming from Melvin and I couldn't help voicing, "I never
believed I would hear it from you." It must have been too
sardonic, because he added, "Never mind. I guess I'm talking
to myself a bit too loudly." It was too late. He had crawled
back into his shell. But I know that he'll open up again and
I better be ready for him, without the sarcasm, but with the
compassion and understanding he deserves. Listen to me! A
real yentila.
The fireworks began after lunch. Remember our Fourth of July
in downtown Jerusalem? Well, this was like the Bicentennial
fireworks in the middle of a Middle Eastern grill restaurant.
Boom! Everyone in the place turned around to watch. Irwin
broke it to Melvin that he wasn't coming back. I'd rather not
repeat what Melvin said, but Irwin met fire with fire.
Ultimately, he said, "It's my life, Dad, for better or worse,
and I'm the one who will be held responsible for it before my
Creator. It's not that I don't love you and Mom. I do, and I
respect you both very much, too. But I feel quite strongly
that the right thing for me to do at this point is to stay
here." Melvin threatened to cut off financial support. I
gasped, but Irwin said he understood. At this momentary
pause, the waiter came over and said that if we were
finished, there were other people waiting for the table. We
got the hint.
We left the restaurant at approximately 3:30. We were
scheduled to depart at 10 p.m. and Melvin, a highly organized
person, had ordered a sherut for 7. We still had a few
hours left for packing. There was only one technical
difficulty: we had one plane ticket too many. This was a
ba'aya, as they say.
Nu, so what happened? Well, here I am sitting, writing it as
it's happening. Melvin is starting to tremble. I'm afraid
that he might be having another one of his nevous breakdowns.
The last time he had one was when Irwin was in his freshman
year at Yale and decided he wanted to drop out and go to
Zaire with the Peace Corps. His `shrink,' Dr. Schneider, said
that it wasn't a real one, but it was extreme stress on the
nerves. I'd better stop now and check out Melvin before it
does become serious! Bye, now.
August 7
Dearest Diary,
Wow! I can't believe this is happening! Irwin told me that
the Providence in the land of Israel is different. I'm
beginning to believe it. It is now 10 p.m. August 7. TWA
should be taxiing toward the runway in preparation for a safe
flight to New York, and not only is Irwin not on board, but
neither is Melvin or myself.
I spoke to Dr. Schneider a few minutes ago after he had a
lengthy discussion with Melvin. The doctor says not to worry.
Melvin is quite upset and a bit off balance. He is, however,
boruch Hashem, holding his own.
What's next? Who knows? Hashem knows! (Wow! I think this
place is really starting to rub off on me for the better!)
And I guess that it remains for us to find out. I'm so
thrilled I could kiss you.
So fasten your seatbelts, my friend. We're not taking off
yet, but I have the feeling that it will still be quite a
ride. So hang on there. Shabbos is coming (in another week,
and in the meantime, may the good L-rd be with us!).
Keep in touch!
All my love,
Gertrude
