“Now, Aaron,” Grandfather began, drawing his attention back from the street noise. “When I was a young boy—the same age as you are now—my father brought me to see
They remained standing, and it wasn’t until then that Aaron realized the room lacked any chairs. Aaron nodded, though it wasn’t too clear to him what his grandfather really meant.
“It is through our children that we leave behind or pass forward, if you will, our family history—and more precisely, its genealogy. Something you’ll learn much more about in the coming years. And through each of us, God transfers His gift across generations.”
“You mean . . . babies?” Now Aaron feared this was a prelude to a discussion on puberty. After all, he’d only read from the Torah during his bar mitzvah a week earlier. Though Jewish law now considered him a man, he had yet to feel like one.
This made Grandfather chuckle. “Not exactly. Though we can find God’s gift inside our progeny.”
Aaron blushed, fighting the compulsion to put his hands in his pockets again. Grandfather’s expression suddenly turned severe.
“You see, Aaron, there is something very unique about our ancestors. Something quite different than most families. In fact, it can be traced back thousands of years to a man who shares your honorable name. You see him there in the white robe?” He pointed to one of the framed scenes on the wall and the boy’s curious eyes followed.
The painting depicted events from Exodus; it showed a bearded man in a white robe and ceremonial headdress sacrificing a young lamb on a magnificent golden altar. Aaron was momentarily transfixed by the blood gushing forth from the animal’s slit neck.
“Your great ancestor Aaron was a very blessed man. You know him from the Torah, yes?”
Knowing his Saturday discussions with Father had paid off, he said in a proud tone, “The first high priest of the Hebrews, the
Grandfather paced over to admire the painting, hands behind his back. “That’s right. And Aaron had a very special brother whom his parents had given away to protect him.”
Pride showed in Grandfather’s eyes as he nodded and encouraged the boy to elaborate.
“In Egypt”—Aaron’s voice trembled slightly—“Pharaoh had commanded the killing of all newborn Israelite males. So Moses’s mother placed him in a basket and floated him down the river Nile. Moses was found by Pharaoh’s daughter when she went to bathe in the river. She adopted him.”
“And raised him in Pharaoh’s court,” Grandfather added. “Very good. As you know, Moses and Aaron were later reunited. Almost thirty-three hundred years ago, God sent Moses to free his brother, his family, and his people from bondage. The Israelites escaped the Egyptian army”—he pointed to the painting showing Moses with his sacred staff set low to release the seas onto the soldiers and chariots—“and fought for forty years to conquer the tribal lands promised to them by God. Moses was the first true messiah. The founder of a new nation. Legacy meant everything to Moses.”
“And we’re his family?”
“Thirty-three centuries later, Levite blood flows in my veins, your father’s veins . . .”
“And mine?”
“That’s right.”
Aaron was speechless.
“Your legacy, Aaron, is a priestly legacy we desperately need to preserve.” He held up his left hand, clenched it into a fist, and shook it to emphasize the importance of his message. “But our bloodline hasn’t remained pure, as God intended. Centuries have corrupted us.”
“The Diaspora?”
Grandfather nodded. “And other things too,” he said in a low tone, and paused. “Some of our ancestors have not been mindful of God’s plan. But one day, very soon, I am certain, we will make the bloodline pure again. And when that happens, a new covenant will be made between God and our people. After much tragedy . . .” He stammered as he thought mournfully about his over one million brethren who’d suffered—most fatally—alongside him in Auschwitz. “Israel is struggling to be a nation once more—to reclaim its lost lands. The tribes are still scattered. Much turmoil remains . . . an unclear future that only God knows.”
Only days earlier, Aaron’s father had told him that Israel’s air force had bombed Egyptian airfields to preempt a strike. Now Egyptian, Jordanian, and Syrian troops were amassing around Israel’s borders. Father had not stopped praying since it all began.
“A nation, I’m afraid, that still does not abide by God’s covenant,” the old man lamented, casting his eyes to the floor. “Only when the bloodline is restored can the covenant be restored. Then Israel will truly rise up like a phoenix.”
“But how will it be restored?”
Grandfather smiled once more. “You’re not ready for that yet, my ambitious grandson. But soon, when the time is right, you’ll learn the secrets entrusted to my father, me, my son”—reaching out, he gently pressed two fingers over the boy’s pounding heart—“and you. In the meantime, there is much you will need to learn,” he said, sweeping his hand across the brimming bookcases. “You will come here with your father every Saturday following service. From now on, it will be the three of us.”
Aaron grinned.
“Three generations,” he said, patting the boy’s cheek. A thought suddenly came to him. “Ah,” he said, holding up a finger. “Which means there is something I must give to you.”
Aaron watched as Grandfather paced to the scroll cabinet, slid open its smallest drawer, and rummaged through the contents. Finding what he was looking for, he held it tight in his hand, closed the drawer, and made his way back.
