The Jerusalem Inception

Chapter 17





Friday was a day of study, but Lemmy could not concentrate on the page of Talmud before him. He tried not to gawk at his father, who sat at the front of the synagogue, where men came up to him with questions. Trying in vain to convince himself it had been a nightmare, Lemmy knew the truth: The great rabbi was a liar.

The evening meal was a big affair, as the whole Toiterlich family was invited for dinner to celebrate the impending engagement. Cantor Toiterlich sat at the opposite end from Rabbi Gerster. His children shared two to a chair, except for Sorkeh, who was placed across from Lemmy. While Mrs. Toiterlich helped Temimah with the food, the cantor filled the room with his rich tenor, chanting the traditional blessing for a new couple: “Delight and enthuse, the beloved and betrothed, as you took joy in your creation, at Eden, in the beginning.”

Lemmy saw the joy on his mother’s face as she filled the kids’ plates and caressed their heads. He thought of her face the other night, the film of sweat, the pleasure, and the agony. He could not drive the image from his mind, could not forget that her utmost desire—to bear children—was denied by his father, who made everyone believe it was God who was keeping Temimah barren.

The meal lasted a long time, with singing and several toasts in honor of the young couple. Lemmy chatted with Sorkeh, doing his best to be cordial. But whenever his father spoke, he looked away, afraid that his eyes would betray his feelings.

That night he again read The Painted Bird, falling into a fitful sleep that left him tired and confused.

During Sabbath morning prayers, at the conclusion of his sermon, Rabbi Gerster said, “I understand that some of you wish to hold a protest later against the faithless Zionists. Remember, however, the words of the Torah: You shall not raise your hand against your brother! Your behavior must exemplify the righteousness of this community.”

Sabbath lunch felt as if it would never end. Lemmy couldn’t wait to go to Tanya’s house. But after the blessing, Rabbi Gerster told Lemmy to join the other young members of Neturay Karta, who were leaving soon for the demonstration.

As soon as the group reached the intersection of Jaffa and King George streets, Lemmy noticed several police vans parked up the street.

Redhead Dan stepped into the road and waved his fists at passing cars. “Sabbath! Sabbath!”

The cars swerved into the opposite lane to avoid the blackgarbed man. The drivers cursed through open windows. Some raised their middle finger.

Surrounded by other Neturay Karta men, his flaming beard and payos flapping in the wind, Redhead Dan shouted, “Sabbath! Sabbath!” He chased slow-moving cars and pounded on them with his fists. “He who violated the Sabbath is destined to die! Stone him with rocks until his soul leaves his body!”

The quote was correct, Lemmy knew, but Talmud disfavored capital punishment, saying that a Sanhedrin, a rabbinical court, which issued one death sentence in seventy years, was a deadly Sanhedrin.

The parked police vans turned on their flashing lights, their doors opened, and policemen jumped out. They put on their helmets and held up their shields and truncheons.

Redhead Dan grabbed Lemmy’s arm, pulled him up front, and yelled, “Our rabbi sent his son! God will punish you if you touch the rabbi’s son!”

Lemmy tried to free his arm. “Are you crazy? We can’t fight them!”

“God will fight for us!”

“They knew we were coming!”

“Don’t worry, the whole Zionist army couldn’t silence God’s voice!”

“It’s a trap!”

Redhead Dan was too worked up to listen. “The Zionists are afraid of us! They’re afraid of you, Gerster!”

Lemmy looked across the street at the policemen. The major stepped forward and smirked, swinging his baton.

Another attempt to release his arm from Redhead Dan’s grip failed. The young man didn’t even notice. He pulled Lemmy after him while the group clustered tightly, their faces touched by fear.

The policemen lined up along the opposite curb.

Redhead Dan dragged Lemmy with him to the side of the road and lifted a stone as big as a fist. “He, who violated My Sabbath, stone him to death!”

Lemmy shouted, “Don’t!”

“It’s God’s war!”

Additional police cars blocked the surrounding streets. Traffic ceased, and the men of Neturay Karta faced the policemen in riot gear and truncheons.

Major Buskilah held a tin cone to his mouth. “Disperse immediately!”

In response, Redhead Dan raised his hand, reached back, and hurled the rock across the street. It flew in a wide arc and hit one of the policemen, who cried and fell down. Major Buskilah lowered the tin cone and shouted orders to his troops.

“God is with us! Repent, or go to hell!”

Across the street, the injured policeman was carried away, his cracked helmet remaining behind.

Redhead Dan took another step toward the middle of the road. “Sinners must be punished!”

Lemmy threw all his weight backward, certain that his arm was going to snap out of his shoulder. He saw Major Buskilah signal his men, and three things happened at once: The policemen rushed forward, Lemmy put his foot aside and tripped Redhead Dan, and the men of Neturay Karta fled.

The policemen circled the two of them. Redhead Dan got up, clenching his fists, and the major swung his truncheon and hit him on the side of the head. As he fell down, the truncheon landed on his back and thighs, again and again, making a sickening, hollow sound, while Redhead Dan screamed.

“Stop it!” Lemmy lunged toward the major, but two policemen restrained him.

The beating continued until Redhead Dan stopped screaming.

Major Buskilah gave him a kick, which produced no response from the unconscious man. The major turned to Lemmy, panting, his face red, the truncheon clutched in his hand. “Who’s laughing now, punk?”

“Satan, probably.” Lemmy didn’t lower his eyes.

The major holstered his truncheon, took Lemmy’s arm, and pulled up the sleeve of his black coat, exposing the red skin left by Redhead Dan’s grip. He showed the mark to his men. “Looks like evidence of resistance, boys?”

They laughed, and Major Buskilah shoved him. “Go home, boy. Tell your father that the Zionist police treated you fairly. Go on!”

Lemmy picked up his hat. “What about him?” He gestured at Redhead Dan.

“We’ll take care of him,” Major Buskilah said. “Go home!”