Abe
Abraham Abrawomitz was the first of nine children. Sometimes he felt obliged to be a fine, mature example to all his little brothers and sisters, especially since they were the Chosen among the most chosen Elect of God’s creatures. Sometimes he wished he could be the stealthy gollum, and ignore all of the cares of a good Hebrew life and sneak around the sewers of Brooklyn, or maybe even Queens.
According to his parents, all of them must help usher in the messiah and if one of them were to fall short, that one child could prove responsible for delaying God’s eternal plan and be a destroyer to the entire movement that had been in process for close to 6,000 years. Most people think they have a lot of responsibility being only the eldest of nine children. Not the Abrawomitzes!
Yes, Abe was a Jewish boy—er, man technically, since he had bar mitzvahed almost a year ago. It was hard to be so elect, but somebody had to do it.
Why this was, only God knew. God knew many mysteries of the planet and universe that were not only beyond the comprehension of Abraham and his family but of all the elders as well. And the elders knew quite a bit.
Their community was very strong and self-sustaining; they were taught this from birth. Part of the teaching in all their own yeshivas and schools within their neighborhoods of lower Brooklyn was that they must all contribute to the once and future Zion. With this charge was the knowledge that many would oppose them, just as the Germans years ago, or as did the terrible czars and later Supreme Commanders in Russia or the Arabs today. Life was bad for Jews in much of the world, but life was blessed here in America. The Christian goyim were misled but decent at letting live and let live. Maybe Jesus had learned enough of the Torah to create a faith that wouldn’t hurt the Jews too much.
Many times the real enemies in America, Europe, and in Israel were the so-called Jews who were known as Reform or Conservative. Even some of the alleged orthodox Jews could vary so far from the Law that they, too, would oppose the true Elect like his community. Obviously most of the Jews worldwide had not honored their Most High Rebbe, who passed away in 1994 but would soon return by the grace of God. This made it all the more vital that he as well as all his siblings stood up for the Law of Moses and be the best believers they could be.
Abe felt very alone at times. He felt like he was singled out for God’s work and this made life a lonesome venture. There were times in synagogue and yeshiva that he felt totally included into the mystical realm of God, and there were other moments even more addictive when he felt so united with his fellow students and worshippers of the chabad. This would occur a lot at funerals, or memorials of the Holocaust or pogroms, oddly enough. He didn’t feel it so much at the death or subsequent memorials of the Rebbe, and he feared this was a grave sin. He had told no one. This further caused him more loneliness, especially when even the small children touted his constant guidance and companionship in their daily lives.
Like most of the Jews in his neighborhood he had relatives in Israel. He liked going there to a certain degree, but when certain relatives got too excited about killing in revenge he felt very uncomfortable. Despite what many elders said about the Philistines, he knew that they were not at fault for wanting to keep their land. He had been all over Israel, and although it was small compared to America there was still enough room for everyone there, Jew and Arab. He felt like certain extreme or confused Jews caused the majority of the problems, not to mention the support of millions of Arabs who seemed to hate as unfairly as the bloodthirsty Israelis. New York and its crime seemed very tame in comparison.
He remembered a conversation that he had with a cousin named Levi Bokarsky last summer.
“This land was only meant for the people of Israel, those descended by our blessed forefather Jacov. Everyone else should get out.”
“What should all the Palestinians do then?” Abe followed.
“Is that my concern? Well, we have been commanded to inherit the land and they have to understand this. It is not an open debate to be discussed like parliament,” replied Levi.
“Are you saying that we are not a democracy? Israel was built on democratic principles and that is how things are decided, not just by one small minority.”
“For one thing, we ultra-orthodox are not a small minority, we are a majority of the Elect of God. We are the reason why this place has been alive since 1948 and before. We are the reason why Hebrew is a language spoken in the world again. We are the reason why people like you in America can look forward to Meshiach. If it weren’t for us, the Torah would be an idle piece of text like the Dead Sea Scrolls, being touted around the world for all the incredulous Gentiles and atheists to gape at.”
“You think they don’t serve as a great witness of the faithful of God?”
“Well, all I know is that atheistic scientists use the texts of Qumran to prove their own godless conclusions, while people like Zionistic Christians use it for their own devilish purposes. Not much of it has done us good except to prove we as Jews belong here and no one else.”
Abe thought about his cousin’s statements. They seemed pretty crude, and wondered which Rebbe he had heard them from. But Abe thought better than to ask. It was probably his father, Abe’s mother’s brother, who was not recognized as venerable.
“Why can’t some Palestinians live in Israel?” Abe asked.
“You see it in the news everyday! They kill themselves and us and don’t even know how to rule themselves! They lie, cheat, and steal, and then accuse us of doing the same! They have proven that they cannot be trusted.”
“And Israelis can,” ventured Abe.
“Oh, Abe, now you are treading on thin and sacred ground. Abraham Abrawomitz, you know we are the Chosen people of God meant to live here. This is as simple as the Torah! I’m afraid you Jews abroad do not appreciate our commitments or sacrifices…”
“I’m sorry Levi, it is not the same for me to speak on these things as you. I live in Brooklyn, I do not know the fear and hate as you do.”
It was good Abe said this at this point, because Levi was getting so revved up at these baseless accusations that he was not only going to personally excoriate his younger cousin but was also going to state how Jews outside of Israel were really not Jews at all. His father, Schlemiel, had specifically asked all his children of their settlement not to share this information with their cousins or aunts or uncles from New York. The idea was to get them to immigrate to the West Bank, or Judea or Samaria as they called it in good Hebrew, and then break the truth to them. Enlightening them before the move would probably be counterproductive.
“And you do not know the love and glory of it as I do. This is the Promised Land where we are promised eternal salvation! There is no other place. Moses died trying to come here. Millions have died trying. We are some of the most blessed Jews of all creation to be here now.”
“Yes, I see your point.”
That’s how most of the conversations ended with his cousins like Levi. They could not be convinced otherwise. Thankfully, his own family desired to stay back in Brooklyn because they felt the Rebbe would soon resurrect from the dead and would accompany them by plane or simply floating in the air to Jerusalem, City of David. Maybe they would have to land in Tel Aviv at first.
The next day after this distant yet poignant memory of this discussion at his cousin’s settlement near Nablus there was an ugly reminder and perhaps afterthought underscoring this whole matter: eight Palestinians were killed by gunship missiles; apparently at least two of them were terrorists from Hamas. Three Jewish settlers, all non-soldiers, were slain by knife attacks a few miles from the first incident.
Back on Ditma Street, Abe was thankful that Brooklyn was where the Rebbe was buried. He felt like many more funerals, including his own, would be much more pleasant among the crowded streets of these American boroughs of New York than the lonely stony escarpments of Samaria or Judea. Even the sewers smelled sweeter here in New York.
FIN
Last modified in 2006. Written possibly in 2003-2004 in San Bernardino. (Re-read in January 2014). The Y in York was underscored near the end, suggesting the period of the bad keyboard.
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