Tuesday The Rabbi Saw Red

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

They were unusually quiet and subdued when he entered the classroom Wednesday morning, the dozen who had been present last Friday must have told the rest what had occurred. Or was it their reaction to the bomb explosion?

All the way from Barnard's Crossing, Rabbi Small had wrestled with his conscience, he hadn't seen his class since he walked out on them. Should he proceed with his lecture as though nothing had happened, or should he apologize? True, their behavior had been intolerable, but on the other hand he now realized no personal disrespect had been intended. On the contrary, thev evidently believed they were doing something fine and noble. But why hadn't they explained? But why hadn't he asked? But they were younger, and they owed their teacher respect. But he was older and should have had more understanding. But they should have realized.. .But he should have realized..."For those who were not here last Friday," he began, "I would like to announce that there was no lecture. To those who were here, I wish to apologize for having walked out. I did not know at the time the reason for the strange conduct of some of the members of the class. Subsequently I did discover it and apologize for not having inquired at the time." He was about to go on, when Mazelman raised his hand. "Yes?"

"I want to know if you think it was right for us— I was one— to sit on the floor?"He said he had just explained he now knew the reason.

"No, what I mean, isn't it part of Judaism, like aren't Jews supposed to protest injustice?"

"Everyone is supposed to." said the rabbi carefully. "It's not a monopoly of Judaism. But are you sure an injustice was done? As I understand it, the chairs were removed from the prison recreation room as a temporary precautionary measure because they had been used for rioting."

"Yeah, but all the kids didn't take part in the riot, but they all had to sit on the floor," one student observed.

«And President Macomber admitted he was wrong," another called out.

"I read his statement." said the rabbi firmly. "He said he had not intended to comment on the merits of this particular case, only to indicate his general confidence in the head of the institution."

"Yeah, but he backed off from what he said the first time, and he wouldn't have if it hadn't been for the student demonstration."

"Did it convince him, or did it force him?" demanded the rabbi. "If his statement indeed represents backing off, was it caused by your sitting on the floor for a couple of days or because he felt that in the present atmosphere in the college it was wiser to defuse a minor situation before it got out of hand? And where is the justice in bullying somebody to agree with you?"

"Well, how do you know he wasn't convinced?"

And now from all over the room:

"What good is just sitting and talking?"

"How about civil rights? They talked for four centuries."

"How about Vietnam?"

"Yah, and Cambodia?"

"How about the Arab refugees?"

The rabbi pounded on the lectern and the yammering came to a gradual stop. In the moment of silence that followed Henry Luftig's voice could be heard, dripping with sarcasm: "Aren't we supposed to be the Chosen People?"

The sally was greeted with shouts of laughter which quieted down, however, when they saw that their teacher was obviously angry. But when he spoke, it was in quiet tones.

"Yes, we are," he said. "Some of you, I see, seem to regard that as amusing. I suppose that to your modern, rationalist, science-oriented minds, the thought of the Almighty making a compact with a portion of His creation is hilariously funny." He nodded judiciously. "Well, I can understand that. But how does it alter the situation? Your modern skepticism can be applied to only one side of the compact, God's side. You can doubt He offered such a compact; you can even doubt His existence. But you cannot doubt that Jews believed it and acted accordingly, that's fact, and how can one quarrel with the purpose and goal of Chosenness: to be holy, to be a nation of priests, to be a light unto the nation?"

"But you got to admit it's pretty arrogant."

"The idea of being chosen? Why? It's not confined to the Jews, the Greeks had it; the Romans, too. Nearer our own time, the English felt it their duty to assume the white man's burden; the Russians and the Chinese both feel obliged to convert the world to Marxism; while our own country feels it must prevent the spread of Marxism and indoctrinate all peoples in democracy, the difference is that in all these other cases, the doctrine calls for doing something to someone else, usually by force, the Jewish doctrine alone calls for Jews to live up to a high standard so that they might become an example to others. I don't see anything to laugh or sneer at about that. Basically, what it calls for is a high standard of personal behavior. It manifests itself in restraints which we impose on ourselves. Some of these, such as the restrictions of kosher food, may strike you as mere primitive taboos, but their intention is to maintain purity of mind and body. In any case, we don't try to foist it on others. Perhaps more to the point is the admonition that you have occasionally received from a parent or more likely, a grandparent, 'This is not proper behavior for a Jew.' Well, that's how the doctrine of Chosenness works in everyday life."

He looked around the room. "Which brings us to Mr. Mazelman's questions and its larger implication: Is it our duty as Jews to be the leaders in all reform movements? I suppose we have a tendency in that direction as a result of our history. But there is nothing in our religion or basic tradition that imposes this duty on us. It does not call for us to devote our lives, like the Knights of the Round Table, to righting wrongs."

The class was attentive now, the rabbi felt he had the situation in hand, so he continued with less vehemence. "Ours is a practical religion calling for a practical way of life, there are so many injustices throughout the world that if we set out to right them all, even if we could, when could we live our own lives? And can we always be sure that we are right? And that our method of reform will improve things? Even in the small matter of sitting on the floor there was a difference of opinion. I, for one, was not convinced either that President Macomber was wrong or that the method taken to convince him was right, and remember what I said about the difference between our kind of Chosenness and that of other nations. Our religion calls on us to live our own lives in rectitude and justice, not to impose them on anyone else."

"How about Israel then?" Henry Luftig called out. "Why aren't they treating the Arabs justly?"

"Compared to whom?" the rabbi shot back. "I don't understand. Rabbi."

"It's quite simple. Mr. Luftig,” he said. "We criticize Jews and Judaism by disparaging comparisons with some ideal. But to be fair, you must compare them with what's real, not imaginary. So I ask, what other nation has dealt with its foe better, or even as well, as has Israel with the Arabs?"

"What about the way the United States treated Germany and Japan?"

"But that was after they had signed a peace treaty; not while the other country still considered itself at war."

"Yeah, but everybody says they ought to be a lot less obstinate."

The rabbi smiled grimly. "There is also in our religion a doctrine against suicide."

"But the Palestinians were driven from their homes."

"They left their homes." Mark Leventhal called from across the room. Like Mazelman, he came from a traditional home and had had some religious schooling. "The Arabs promised they'd be able to return once they'd driven the Jews into the sea, they were promised the Jews' property as well."

"I don't believe it."

"Well it's true.

"Lillian Dushkin said in a high, shrill voice: "This boy I know told me there are lots of Jews in Israel who feel the Jews have no right to be there until the Messiah comes."

"Yah? So what are they doing there?"

And they were off again, but this time the rabbi made no effort to stop them, he sat on the edge of the desk and listened, vaguely annoyed, but occasionally interested in spite of himself, the bell rang at last and the class began to gather their books.

"Just a minute,” he called out, they halted.

"You seem to have a lot of questions more or less relating to the subject matter of this course. So I'm setting aside the next class. Friday, and perhaps succeeding Fridays, to deal with them. You can bring in any questions you like, and I'll do my best to answer them."

"You mean in writing?"

"In writing or orally, or write them on the blackboard for all I care."As he came down the broad granite steps of the administration building. Luftig and Shacter, lounging against the iron railing, fell in step with him as he made for the parking lot.

"That was quite a class today, Rabbi." said Luftig, his thin face aglow.

The rabbi looked at him. "You think so? You feel you learned something?"Luftig looked surprised— and hurt. "Why sure."

"What, for instance?"

"You mean specifically? Well, I didn't know there were Jews who thought they had to wait for the Messiah before they could live in Israel, and— and that business about the Arabs expecting to take over Jewish property, and— oh, lots of things."

"Well, that first, about the Messiah, that's wrong," the rabbi said. "The objection is not to living in Israel, but to establishing a state, as for the rest, if you want to hold a bull session why bother to come to college and pay tuition for it?"

"But this was fun. Rabbi." Shacter protested.

"It's not my function or the college's to amuse you,” he said stiffly.

As the rabbi drove off, Shacter said, "Gee, what's he so uptight about?"