COMPATIBILITY OF LAW AND JUSTICE, BOOK THREE-CHAPTERS SIX AND SEVEN CHAPTER SIX STEIN AND JEFFREY HAD TO TRAVEL TO PARIS TO FIND THE Hassidic temple and even then it took them three hours of searching before they found the small, dingy building in a lower-middle-class suburb in the eastern part of the city. Stein led Jeffrey up the wooden steps and they stood before the small sign in Hebrew near the door. Can you read that, Jeffrey? No, Uncle. But I do read Spanish. Stein smiled. There is a service in half an hour. All are invited. Did you remember to bring your yarmulke? Yes, Uncle. Will we have to dance and sing? Dont you want to? I dont know how. Well sit in the back. You can decide then. They entered a small vestibule, then stepped across a plain, wooden floor to a deserted larger room. Old wood chairs lined the walls. At one end of the room was a raised platform, several chairs scattered about on it. No windows. Two naked electric bulbs hung from the ceiling. It looks like an old school auditorium, Jeffrey said, disappointed. I believe it is, agreed Stein, adjusting the yarmulke on Jeffreys head. Let us be seated in the rear. Are you sure its going to start soon? Theres no one here. I only know what the sign said. Let us see. They sat in the rear. The sounds of traffic in the street were muted. Stein absently rubbed his side where it had been paining him lately. Jeffrey sat swinging his legs, nervous. Ten minutes passed. Two old men entered from the street, dressed in long black robes, the traditional wide-brimmed hat on their heads. Their hair was long, as were their beards. Jeffrey stared at them, looking increasingly apprehensive. Theyre Jews? Stein smiled. Not your standard Reform congregation, Jeffrey? Jeffrey did not answer, but his legs began to swing faster. Over the next ten minutes several more men entered, all dressed as the first two, all in their fifties or sixties. They glanced in the direction of Stein and Jeffrey, but after nodding at them, moved to the floor near the platform and ignored the two. Maybe we should just leave, Uncle. They dont seem very happy to see us. Let us wait. Jeffrey sighed and studied his, swinging feet. By the time another half-hour had passed at least dozen black-clad-men were in the room, chattering in various tongues, mostly French. The youngest appeared to be about thirty, the oldest a wizened, bent fellow at least eighty. The noise of their voices was remarkable. Jeffrey seemed increasingly irritated. Theyre late, he whispered to Stein even though the room rang with noise. I suspect they feel that God will wait for them to begin. Well, Im not God, muttered the boy. They are undoubtedly aware of that, replied Stein, patting Jeffrey on the knee. Suddenly they heard a wail, a sound of near agony. Jeffrey froze, eyes wide. Stein sat up. Then, slowly, the wail dropped a full two octaves and began to vibrate and oscillate. Good Lord, breathed Stein, that is singing. Other voices began to join in, the din rising to a level even greater than the previous chattering. Some of the hats began to move up and down and slowly the various men began to sway or twirl, depending, apparently on their mood. There seemed no order to the sound and movement, no joint praying or singing at all. Chaos reigned. Jeffrey had to shout to be heard. This wasnt what I thought it would be at all. Stein was laughing. It is the chaos before creation, Jeffrey. Let us wait a bit longer. Two or three of the men were holding hands now, bouncing up and down, bumping into other worshipers. Slowly in the midst of the din, some of the voices began to coalesce, began to harmonize. More and more men joined hands and a rough circle began to emerge. Jeffreys legs had stopped swinging and he watched in silence. Stein began to tap his foot. The circle took shape now, though there still seemed to be three or four chants or songs going simultaneously. Stein rose. Come. Let us join them. Jeffrey looked up, horrified. No. I dont know Hebrew. Jeffrey, listen to that racket. You could sing in Swahili and no one would know. Jeffrey would not get up. No, Uncle, no. I dont want to. Please... Stein looked at the boy for a long moment. Then he turned his attention to the dancing and singing congregation. The circle was slowly moving around now, songs still mixed and disjointed, most men smiling or laughing, some looking strangely solemn as they bellowed their songs at the top of their voices. Stein smile. Then he looked at his nephew who sat slumped in his seat. Steins smile broadened, but he held the boys shoulder. We will leave, Jeffrey, he shouted above the voices. Jeffrey nodded rapidly and the two left the temple. Out in the street the sound of the traffic seemed oddly muted. As was Jeffrey as he hurried along beside Stein. Stein could not stop smiling. Well, Jeffrey, a little less dignified than you envisioned. Uncle, that was horrible. They were just standing and screaming. I mean...it wasnt what I thought it would be. Stein sobered. A song that is a prayer is not meant to be merely pretty, Jeffrey. To confront this world, more than beauty is needed. The agony of existence must be in the song, dont you think? Jeffrey shrugged. I dont know. It sounded ugly to me. Ugly? Or embarrassing? Perhaps they were not dignified enough for your Reform-minded congregation. Jeffrey looked annoyed. I dont think its that, Uncle. Its just that it didnt sound good. Need it? It does if youre there to listen. Yet, you refused to join them. Jeffrey shrugged again, this time as much in confusion as in annoyance. Well, I just thought it would sound better. Would sound good. He remembered his manners. Thank you for taking me there, Uncle. Stein smiled. I am delighted to have done so, Jeffrey. I was as interested in the concept as you were. And less offended by the actual practice. I wasnt offended. It was ugly. So you say. Would you like a refreshment? Sure. Can we go to the river again? And see those barges? Certainly. The two of them slowly made their way back to the Seine, talking of beauty and prayer, barges and tugboats. CHAPTER SEVEN MICHAEL HAD RECOVERED SUFFICIENTLY TO RETURN TO Connecticut. Jeffreys parents made reservations to leave in two days, inviting Stein to visit them in Connecticut. Stein considered that possibility while strolling the streets of Tours. He was suffering increasing pain, mostly at night. He concluded that it was time to part with Jeffrey before the boy noticed his declining health. Stein made his own preparations to immediately return to California. Jeffrey was shocked that Stein was not planning to stay with him in Connecticut. Stein told the boy that an emergency with a patient did not allow him to tarry longer. Disappointed, Jeffrey sulked for a few hours until Stein asked him to dinner, alone, at a good outdoor restaurant at Chinon, just beneath the lovely castle. They sat in the warm night air in the large patio, candles flickering on the white tablecloths, the spotlighted castle towering over them on the mountain. From here the castle seemed unreal, a fantasy beyond reach. Stein had eaten in the restaurant before and the proprietor made special arrangements for an elaborate meal. During dinner the boy chattered excitedly about the coming school year, about his fathers return home, about next summer when he assumed he would visit Stein and Mrs. Santelli in California. It was while they were waiting for dessert that Jeffrey looked up at the castle and softly said, It wasnt your parents who died with the Nazis. You got them out. Daddy told me that. You went back for them. Daddy says you were very brave. No. It was not my parents who died. Jeffrey looked at Stein but did not ask. Stein said, I guess you could call her my fiancé. My girlfriend. Jeffrey looked at the napoleon the waiter had brought him. He made no move to eat it. What was her name? Elva. Elva Shirer. She was German? German. And Jewish. Half-Jewish, actually. But half-Jewish was enough to be considered an enemy of the state. Jeffrey played with his napoleon, not daring to look at his uncle. You...loved her a lot? Yes. Mom says thats why you never married. Stein felt a twinge of annoyance. Well, if youve already discussed it with your mother, why ask me? Embarrassed, the boy shrugged. Stein grunted, Your mother is a romantic. Jeffrey continued looking at his dessert. Then...why arent you married? Stein looked at the castle far above him. It never seemed right, Jeffrey. Or possible for me. Once...a long time ago...it almost happened. But even then, I couldnt do it. I dont know why. Not really. Id like to blame the Nazis. Why not? Theyre a convenient scapegoat. But...Im not sure it has anything to do with them, really. I dont think my enemies made me like this. Perhaps my friends. Or those I thought of as friends. Or maybe the world, itself. The world which I once thought of as friendly. But that sounds too grand, too philosophical. The truth is...I dont know. Does it matter? Jeffrey looked up then. You never wanted any kids? No. Not really. Youre the first...kid...that Ive... liked. Stein hesitated, then blurted, that I loved. But I do not believe that you are...typical. Jeffrey blushed and began mashing his dessert. Stein studied him, then said, I will miss you a great deal, Jeffrey. A great deal. I am delighted to have known you. Jeffrey looked at him with large eyes. But well see each other next summer. Wont we? Stein studied his plate. That is certainly the plan. But I am an old man. One never knows. Stein felt the boys eyes on him and was careful not to look up. When Jeffrey next spoke his voice was very soft. Are you sick, uncle? Stein looked up then. Why do you ask? You get up so often in the night. And sometimes...I hear you moan. Stein wondered if he would lie. He had always made it a point to be entirely truthful, never to use white lies. He had always said that a lie is a lie, regardless of alleged color. He watched himself, curious. To his surprise, he heard himself say, All old men get up in the middle of the night. We need less sleep than you young people. Im not sick... Im old. Jeffrey smiled in relief. But youre not too old. Next summer will you let me help you on one of your books? I mean, maybe I could help you check for spelling errors. Stein bit his lip, then smiled. Yes. I would like that. And well put your name on the flyleaf. As an assistant editor. Jeffrey smiled in delight, eating his dessert, glowing with happiness. Yes, Stein thought, yes, this is the best way. This lie is the right way. This happiness is worth it. A great load had been lifted. And suddenly he was happy...almost joyful. He would not have to tell Jeffrey, would not have to see that young face crumple. They would part thinking of their next meeting, making their future plans. That is how Jeffrey must remember him, planning for their future time together, planning to write their book together.
Posted on: Wed, 29 Jan 2014 13:29:00 +0000
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