The Wacky Cook

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The Gift

The synagogue across the street is beautiful, but not both parts; yes, it does have two parts. They watched it being built; the one part going up and up, the ceiling high and the body of the synagogue wide, large and beautiful. The other part was much lower; it was very plain and simple. They could not figure out what was happening until they were told that the synagogue would consist of two traditional parts; one for the Ashkenazim - people from Eastern Europe - and the other for the Sepharadim - people from Spain or the African continent. They were shocked by such blatant segregationalism; they thought that they left that sort of thing in the "old-country," but here it was, in their own country as well, right across from where they lived.

They could understand it until they got together with friends of theirs - the man a Yemenite and his wife an American. During the evening, she told them about the synagogue; "Oh my dear," said the wife. "No, NO! There is no segregation intended here, believe me! I cannot pray in my husband's synagogue and he can not pray in mine. I am too American and set in my ways and he is far too Yemenite to change for me! Their prayers are different and the tunes I have never heard before!... And our customs are not theirs. I tried to follow their way of praying and simply could not! It's just not possible to pray together, so we don't! He goes to his synagogue and I go to mine. You do see it now, don't you?" She didn't! It bothered her. Families should pray together she felt. There was something basic about that.

The synagogue being built across the street was just about finished when she ventured inside one day to have a look and see and she was shocked again. The top part was really magnificent. Everything was done in perfect taste and with great expense, from the crystal chandeliers to the silver parts around the ark, the polished wood everywhere, the beautiful hanging copper lamps. Perfect! But when she looked into the other part, the one downstairs, it was dark and plain; there were no ornaments at all, no frills, nothing. Simple wooden benches lined the walls and a wooden pulpit stood in the center. That was all. Furious, she stormed into the architect's office which was still there on the premises and found the man himself, sitting at a table, eating a sandwich. Oh. She hesitated and stopped, but he saw her and told her to come in. He gave her a chair and asked her if she wanted a cup of coffee. Asked her would she like to share part of his sandwich. It was very large and easily could feed two. No? Then who was she and what could he do for her? He continued munching away.

She burst out with "Why is one part of the synagogue so beautiful and the other so ugly?" He nearly choked on the sandwich. "What's beautiful and what's ugly? Lady, what are you talking about? And who are you? Where are you from? And why come busting in like this...? "He stopped. You live in the building across from here, right? American, right?" She just sat there, quietly, waiting. "O.K. Let me explain" said he patiently, with a mournful little sigh pushing his tea and sandwich away. "Like everything else here, in this country, this synagogue was built because somebody gave a donation. See?" She shook her head. "Yes, it is so. Now, first donation which was received came from a gentleman who lives in Mexico. Originally he came from Poland and was the only one who remained from his very large family, who all perished in the Holocaust. He became very rich in Mexico and he gave an awful lot of money to build a synagogue in the name of his father. Then we received another donation; this time from a gentleman from Yemen, who now lives here in Israel. This donation was not as large, in fact quite a bit smaller; he also wanted a synagogue built and dedicated to his father! When it was suggested to the donors that they combine, they categorically refused! After years of meetings and decisions, which had to be changed and revised, we did the best we could! And I think it came off very well!"

Very well? She was furious. She stormed out and tried to walk the fury out of her system. "What's the matter with those people?" she raged at her husband that evening. "We" she declared, "will never go to that place. Right?". He agreed. But when his father died, of course, the most accessible synagogue to go at five in the morning to say Kaddish every morning for a year, was the one across the street. Day in, day out, he went, always coming back with funny little stories to tell her. Until one morning he came back and there was a furious look on his face. "They are mad, those people" he shouted at her; "Totally mad! They want me to become a smuggler for them! Can you believe it?"

"A what?" she asked.

She made breakfast and over coffee he told her; one of the old timers came to ask him if it was true that he was going overseas. "How does he know that?" he raged at her. "I didn't tell anybody that I was going anywhere! Who told him? How do people know those things? Why?..." She shrugged. "So?"

"Well, they have a bit of a problem apparently" he told her. "They have this old Rabbi, who gives a class every afternoon in the synagogue; the Rabbi is very old and his voice does not carry. Actually, he can not be heard at all. And do you know what they want me to do? They want me to bring back an amplifying system. I asked them how? and they said: "Oh, put it into a suit case. Nobody will know!"... "A suit-case!?" he explodes "And can you see me doing this? MAD! They are utterly mad." She has never seen him that angry.

"So?" she prods.

"So, I said to them that I would only bring one in if I declare it with customs and they will have to pay the duty'."

"So?"

"They shook their heads at me as if I had lost my mind."

"Tut, tut," she says.

"Don't you 'tut, tut' me!" He flares up at her. "What would you do?"

"Get a younger Rabbi?"

He is so angry that he storms out of the flat. Does not discuss the matter with her until he leaves. She thinks the subject is closed, but when he returns two weeks later, she finds him one morning at his desk, with all sorts of papers and files, telephoning quite a few people for quite some time. Finally, she asks what he is doing.

"I am trying to get the best possible price for that amplifying system" he tells her.

"You are," she says nodding.

"Yes, of course I am! Who will get it for them if not I? They can not afford it and they really need it and I s-o-r-t of promised them that I would try and when I get back..."

"Sure you did." Shakes her head at him.

He ignores her. "So, I am trying to get a fair price. After all," he rushes on "it is for a synagogue! I should get all the reductions possible and they should install it free of charge. Yes, it has to be done" he convinces himself, makes up his mind and for the next two weeks stays on the phone. She leaves him to it. After all, she reasons with herself, it's his good deed for the year. One must not argue with good deeds in this part of the world. Especially if this one may be connected with the Kingdom of....who knows?

Finally, one day he is jubilant. "I have it!" he shouts at her one morning. "The fellow is coming today to look at what is needed and will tell me this evening. He is a religious chappy and wants to participate in this great good deed with me. Isn't it super? How wonderful to be living in this country!"

"Uhum" she mutters, keeping her doubts to herself.

The chap does not turn up on that day, but comes the next. He waits the first day, rages the next; they have crossed lines of communication. The telephoning starts all over again. She sees this as a bad omen; does not say anything, stays out of his way and makes sure he has everything he needs. Finally, he finds the man and makes another date with him. By the evening of the following day, he comes home brimming with good humor.

"Fantastic! Oh what a genius! What ideas! We will save lots of money doing it the way he thinks it should be done. Great!". "And", says he to her "by tomorrow evening it will all be installed and working. Can you believe it?"

"NO" escapes from her, before she can stop herself. "I mean, yes, if you say so, dear, of course dear. Wonderful". No way, she mutters. NO WAY will this get off the ground...

She makes an extra special dinner for the next evening, wanting to please him and cushion his disappointment, but in he walks, beaming. "It's done!" he tells her. "The poor fellow worked all day! But, he did it and it's working perfectly. Beautiful job, well done! Just super!"

"You are kidding?" in shock, her mouth actually stays open.

"YOU have no faith in human nature!" He lectures her. "I told you it would be done today. Why not? I believed in this chappy and I told you so and he delivered. Why are you so surprised? You really must have more faith. The man did exactly what he said he would, he really did! So there. What more do you want?" She had to admit that this time she was quite wrong, terrific job, well done, she congratulated him and was really pleased with his success.

And life returned to normal, until one morning he came home from prayers looking very sheepish. She asked him what was wrong, and he becomes prickly: "Wrong? Why should anything be wrong?"

During breakfast he says to her "Something really funny happened this morning".

"Oh" she prods, "do tell! Please!"

"Remember the amplifying system?... In the synagogue?...." She just looks at him.

"I will not tell you if you look at me like that" says he to her sternly.

"Like what?" she is dying to know. Her face softens. She smiles.

"Promise me, you will not laugh when I tell you". He is very serious and still very stern.

"Laugh?" She can hardly believe him! "Why? Is this a laughing matter?"

"Promise! Or I don't tell you!" He is very grim.

"Yes, I promise" she says, clamping her lips together.

He sighs; shakes his head; after prayers that morning, the elders of the synagogue approached him and handed him a letter. The committee of the synagogue had a meeting. They have a problem, they told him and decided that he was the one who should take care of it for them. Yes, they decided, he put it in, so he had to take it out." When he asked them what it was all about they just said: "Read the letter and please to take care of it, yes, you must do it..." and shaking their collective heads, left him standing there, with the letter in his hand.

He stops. He is lost in thought. Says nothing for quite some time. She is about to explode!

"What's in the letter?" she finally asks letting out a long breath.

"Oh" he rouses himself "The letter?... Ah!... Yes... The letter... The letter is from the City Hall. They are suing the synagogue. The neighbors are complaining that their afternoon sleep hours are being disturbed by this booming voice coming out of the synagogue. Apparently there is a law in this city...."

Send your questions to The Wacky Cook: email: debbiemorgenshtern@gmail.com

Debbie Morgenstern is the author of "My Life in Israel" and other short stories.
"My Life in Israel" can be purchased by accessing this link: "My Life in Israel"