The Masada Complex

Rabbi Josh stood and faced the congregation. “Welcome to our Friday night service.” He waited for the chattering to quiet down. “I am glad to see that no one was intimidated by what happened.” The graffiti had been painted over that morning, but he had worried people would stay away. “Let us pray for those who hate us. Let us pray that they allow God’s grace into their hearts. Let us pray that they forgo hate for love and charity.”

The congregation chorused, “Amen.”

“To those of you who are new to Temple Zion, we always begin with the Kabbalat Shabbat, Welcoming the Sabbath, followed by a discussion of this week’s chapter of Torah.” He paused, turning to his son.

Raul stood. “The Torah chapter is Shoftim. It means Judges.”

The announcement drew clapping, and he sat down.

“Thank you, young man.” Rabbi Josh opened a prayer book. “Please turn to page forty-three.” He pinched a string on his guitar, glancing at the door. When his eyes descended to the seated congregation, Al Zonshine gave him a dark, knowing look.

“Go forth, bride’s groom, receive your betrothed; Let us welcome her, the Sabbath.” The chant brought peace to Rabbi Josh’s heart. The congregation repeated each line, chanting after him. “In advance of the Sabbath we shall march, for she is the fountain of grace.”

Raul’s high-pitched voice sounded above the crowd, and Rabbi Josh reached over to caress Raul’s head but pulled his hand back, reluctant to make the boy self-conscious.

The door opened, and Masada entered. Their eyes met, but she averted her gaze quickly. He watched her select a prayer book from the rack and take a seat in the rear. She didn’t look up again.

“Dad?” Raul patted the open prayer book.

Rabbi Josh realized everyone was waiting for him. He resumed playing the guitar, chanting, “Observe and remember, his single command, we heard from the Heavenly Lord.”

Masada stole a glance at Rabbi Josh. He stood before the congregation with a prayer shawl draped on his wide shoulders, his white shirt embroidered with blue Stars of David, his ponytail resting on one shoulder. He played the guitar with tenderness that defied his big hands.

After the singing came the main service. By the time the Kaddish was recited by those who had lost a family member in the past year, Masada had recovered her resolve. Rabbi Josh was out of her life. She had no need for a relationship, and even casual intimacy would make her worry about him and Raul, distort her objectivity, and violate her intellectual freedom.

To make sure she would not succumb to her juvenile infatuation, Masada decided to alienate him irreparably, to demonstrate to him the unbridgeable gap between them.

She jumped as a hand tapped her shoulder.

“Scared you!” Raul laughed.

“You startled me,” she corrected, ruffling his carrot hair.

“Are you going to cry?”

“Are you going to make me?”

“Come.” He took her hand. “You need to sit up there, next to Dad.”

Professor Silver saw Masada and jabbed his elbow at Al, who seemed paralyzed, breathing in shallow bursts, his bulging eyes staring at the prayer book without seeing it. The first part of the service was coming to conclusion with the recital of Kaddish. The prayer for the dead was a fitting backdrop for what was about to happen.

The rabbi’s son led Masada down the center aisle toward the dais. They climbed the three steps, and she sat beside the rabbi, a smirk betraying her arrogance, or discomfort. Silver couldn’t tell. What’s the difference? She’ll be dead in minutes.

Al filled his chest with air and moaned, drawing a few glances. Silver became alarmed. He had planned the killing sequence to the smallest detail and practiced with Al until the Jew was acting the whole thing without trying to use his puny brain. Silver knew he must make him shoot now, before Al lost his nerves completely. He elbowed him but got no response.

The rabbi raised his book. “Page 309.”

Silver leaned over and hissed, “Soldier!” It was the trigger word he had instilled in Al during the basement rehearsals while pumping him with a great deal of hashish. Dozens of times Al had drawn the loaded pistol, which he had bought earlier at a pawn shop, stepped forward to the desk that represented the temple dais, declared, “So shall all Israel’s enemies perish!” and shot at the stuffed shirt that represented Masada’s chest. Al had wanted to follow the execution with another declaration before shooting himself: “I wish I had more than one life to give to Israel.” But Silver had convinced him that he must immediately put the gun to his mouth and pull the trigger. Show them you’re a real man, like Mahoney. Not that he cared if Al sounded like the idiot he was, but the shooting had to follow in quick succession, leaving no time for diversion. If Al survived and was arrested, he would talk. But if he died instantly, his ability to bring Silver down would die with him.

Al moaned again.

Hilda whispered loudly, “What’s wrong with you?”

Al blinked a few times, sat up sharply, and dropped his prayer book. It fell on the floor with a thud. Rabbi Josh looked, and others turned to see. Al picked up the book and kissed the cover. He kept his eyes down, pretending to read, his head the color of eggplant.

Silver cursed quietly.

On the dais, the rabbi said, “I always try to find something in the Torah chapter that connects with the person who volunteered to present this week’s chapter. Sometimes it’s easy, and sometimes I have to be creative.”

The audience laughed, and Lefkowitz boasted, “There were no flowers in my chapter.”

“True,” Rabbi Josh said, “but we found a verse praising the fertility of the Promised Land, which relates to flowers.”

The recollection generated laughs.

Silver leaned over and whispered directly into Al’s ear, “Soldier!”

No response.

The rabbi lifted the book. “This chapter sets down the law for an orderly society in the Promised Land, including a justice system, with fair laws and honest judges to rule over the Jewish people in the Land of Israel. It begins: You shall not take a bribe, for the bribe would blind wise men and twist the righteous.”

Silver’s eye stung. Masada’s chapter commenced with a bribe? Was this a warning from their God?

“Keep reading.” Masada lifted her copy. “And when the Lord your God gives you the land, you shall kill all the males by sword; the women and children and livestock you shall take as loot.” She looked at the audience. “Are we still required to do so?”

“This was written,” Rabbi Josh said, “in the context of biblical times, with tribal wars and no diplomacy for resolving conflicts.”

“Question is,” she said, “does the Torah still require us to eliminate the gentile inhabitants of the Promised Land today-the modern Palestinians? Are we supposed to conquer the land, kill the men, and enslave the women, children, and livestock?”

The rabbi looked around, but no one answered. Silver cheered Masada silently, grateful that Al had not shot her yet.

“I’m surprised,” Rabbi Josh said, “that an educated woman like you would perpetuate the Palestinian myth. Mark Twain chronicled his visit to the Holy Land in Innocents Abroad. You should read it. He found a barren land with a few scattered villages inhabited by Muslims, Jews, and Christians. The sacred cities of Jerusalem, Tiberius, Acre, and Hebron were dilapidated and ruined. Twain was there before the economic boom