She quoted from her notes. “ It’s a date! ”
L emmy woke up to an explosion of banging and knocking that made him sit up in his bed fighting for air. The room was completely dark, and it took him a moment to realize the noise was coming from his alarm clock. He hit it, and the noise died.
The apartment was not heated during the night, and the sweat on his forehead was icy. The wind rattled the window. He turned on his reading light and sat for a moment. His body ached. He wished he could stay in bed. He had slept for less than two hours, having finished a novel about young Italian lovers whose passion led to tragedy.
Lowering his feet to the cold floor, Lemmy resisted an overwhelming desire to slip back under the warm blanket. In a moment, he would be late for morning prayers. He dressed quickly, grabbed the black hat from the hook, and rushed out of his room.
The small sink by the bathroom had a single iron faucet. He used the copper cup to rinse his hands three times as prescribed by Talmud. He splashed cold water on his face and dried his hands and face on a towel while reciting the blessing: “ Grateful I am before you, Master of the Universe, for giving my soul back to me in your mercy. I believe in your grace. ”
His father had already gone to the synagogue for an hour of predawn studying. Lemmy passed by the kitchen without stopping, crossed the foyer, and reached for the door handle.
“Jerusalem?” His mother’s quick footsteps sounded, and she appeared in the foyer. “Here. Drink it.”
He took the mug and filled his mouth with sweet, hot chocolate. It was always at the right temperature, soothing away the bitter residue of a restless night without burning his palate. He gulped it, looking at his mother over the mug. The vapor between them softened her untimely wrinkles.
“Thanks.” He handed her the empty mug.
“May God bless your day,” she said while he headed down the stairs.
He knew she was watching from the window as he ran through the rain, holding his hat, his shoes splashing through puddles.
He entered the synagogue foyer and brushed the drops off his coat. Monotonous chanting came through the open doors of the main sanctuary. In the far corner of the foyer, Benjamin stood with Redhead Dan and his study companion, Yoram.
Lemmy approached them. “What nasty weather!”
“It’s better than famine,” Benjamin said. “You want us to starve?”
“Why starve?” Lemmy waved his hand. “Couldn’t God create a better irrigation system? This rain gets everything wet-buildings, roads, dogs, roaches. Even the sea gets wet! It’s stupid, isn’t it?”
Redhead Dan said, “God isn’t stupid!”
“He didn’t say it about God.” Benjamin said. “Just about getting wet in the rain. Surely our merciful God knows best how to run the world He created, right?”
“That’s a given,” Lemmy said. “But God should deliver water where it’s needed-olive groves in the Galilee, orange trees near Jaffa, and so on. The current system-”
“Are you questioning God’s wisdom?” Redhead Dan folded his arms on his chest. He was in his early twenties, burly and freckle-faced. His red hair, spiraling payos, and bushy beard created a blaze that kept his head constantly boiling. His young wife had given birth a few days earlier to a baby boy-their first child. “God will punish the sinners! The filthy Zionists will pay for their abortion law.” His voice grew louder. “We’ll destroy their Knesset, flush their law books down the toilet, and drown their heresy in a bath of blood!”
“You mean a river,” Lemmy said, “not a bath.”
“What?”
“A river of blood. It’s hard to drown in a bath.”
“Whatever!” Redhead Dan made a cutting gesture with his hand.
“And whose blood will it be,” Lemmy inquired, “in which they’ll drown?”
“Zionist blood! What else?”
“You mean Jewish blood?”
“No!” Redhead Dan stepped back, his fists clenched as if he was about to attack. “ Zionist blood! Zionists are Goyim!”
“But according to Talmud every child of a Jewish mother is a Jew. Even a Jew who converts to Christianity remains a Jew. So how could Zionists become Gentiles?”
Redhead Dan glared at Lemmy. “Don’t you hate the Zionists?”
“Hate is a sin. Rabbi Akivah said, Love your fellow Jew as you love yourself.”
Benjamin said, “Come on, who has energy to hate the Zionists before breakfast?”
“Heretics aren’t Jews!” Redhead Dan poked Lemmy’s chest with his finger. “We must stone them to death at the city gates. It’s written!”
“A lot of things are written.” Lemmy left them and entered the main sanctuary. Benjamin followed him to their bench, and they joined the rest of the men in chanting Adon Olam, Master of the Universe.
When the chanting ended, Rabbi Gerster walked up to the elevated dais in the center and recited the first Blessing of Dawn: “ Greatness to You, Master of the Universe, for giving the rooster eyesight to know day from night. ”
The men repeated after Rabbi Gerster, and he continued to the next blessing, “ For not making me a Gentile.”
They recited the line.
Benjamin whispered, “What’s gotten into you?”
Lemmy shrugged, repeating the next blessing, “ Greatness to You, Master of the Universe, for not making me a woman. ”
“You should be more careful,” Benjamin whispered, “Redhead Dan is crazy.”
“What, he’ll smash my face with a brick?”
Benjamin grinned. “Only if you perform an abortion.”
E lie Weiss watched Tanya exit the main gate of the IDF headquarters. His Citroen’s two-stroke engine idled noisily. He was parked under a large eucalyptus tree on Kiryat Shaul Street, waiting for her after the strategy conference. She headed north toward the bus station. It was a busy morning, with many soldiers and civilians on their way to work. She walked fast in sensible shoes, blue pants, and a beige shirt that resembled a uniform. Her hair was collected in a bun, and large sunglasses covered most of her face. He turned on the engine and proceeded slowly. A gap in traffic allowed him to jump the curb and come abreast with her, moving at the same pace.
“Hi there,” he called through the open window. “Need a lift?”
Tanya glanced at him, not slowing down.
“That’s no way to treat your commanding officer.”
She stopped walking.
Elie hit the brakes, and the little car rocked back and forth on its soft springs. A bus screeched to a halt behind the Citroen and honked repeatedly. A few pedestrians stopped to look.
Tanya got into the car and slammed the door.
He started driving, keeping pace with traffic. “I like Tel Aviv. Not as cold as Jerusalem.”
“I won’t work for you.”
Making a right-hand turn, Elie accelerated. The tiny boxer engine rattled like a lawnmower. “You’re a soldier, an expert in gathering information about Israel’s enemies. What’s the difference between spying on Arabs or on nutty Jews who threaten Israel from within?”
“It’s the difference between a soldier, which I’m proud to be, and a snitch, which I won’t become. And anyway, I don’t buy your theory. Religious Jews will never turn violent.”
“It’s not a theory. Last time we had an independent Jewish state, the zealots killed the high priest and butchered all fellow Jews who opposed them, which allowed the Romans to burn down Jerusalem. It can happen again. Don’t you want to save Jerusalem?”
She pointed. “There, drop me off at the bus station.”
“How close are you getting with Abraham’s son? Is he in love with you yet?”
Tanya removed her sunglasses and looked at him.
“Be reasonable.” Elie stopped at the curb. “Mossad agreed to share your services with my department. Work
