Avraham Azrieli - The Jerusalem inception

The Fountainhead excited Lemmy in an unfamiliar way. He could recite from memory full Chapters of Torah and Talmud, which he had studied since the age of three. He loved the scriptures’ poetic beauty and logical wisdom, and until now believed nothing else was worth reading. But here was a book that had absolutely no Torah or Talmud in it, and yet from its pages emerged a universe rich with men and women who fought for their beliefs, suffered for their idealistic goals, and served as the fountainhead of human progress while experiencing pain, love, and physical lust in ways he had always thought sinful.

During the following days, Lemmy’s bruises prevented him from sitting down. He spent the day on his feet, studying Talmud with Benjamin in the synagogue. When his legs ached, he went outside to stretch out on a bench. At night, he stayed up for hours, lying on his belly with ice on his buttocks, reading The Fountainhead again.

The next Sabbath, after the meal, he ran all the way to Tanya’s house. He circled the wall of sandbags and knocked on the door. She appeared barefoot, in a sleeveless shirt and khaki shorts that revealed sculpted legs.

“I brought back your book.” He averted his eyes.

“You don’t like the way I look?”

He swallowed. “You look the way God made you, but I’m not supposed to see so much of it.”

Tanya laughed and took his hand, pulling him inside. Her hand was dry and cool and pleasant to touch. She placed The Fountainhead on a shelf among other books.

He asked, “Has Ayn Rand written other novels?”

“So you liked it?”

“It’s a good story.” He felt foolish for keeping the real depth of his excitement from her. “America is a great country. I hope to visit it one day.”

“What did your father think of the book?”

Lemmy hesitated. “He didn’t see it.”

“Why?”

“He would tell me not to read it.”

“You always do what your father tells you?”

“Pretty much.”

“And your own desire, it has no meaning?”

“My desire is to obey my father.”

“And what about your mother?”

“She obeys him too.”

Tanya smiled. “You know what I mean.”

“My mother doesn’t expect my obedience.”

“That’s your father’s prerogative?”

He nodded.

She collected a pile of papers from her desk and put them in a drawer. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

“Tea? Water? You must be thirsty after such a long walk.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Are you afraid my dishes aren’t kosher?” She sat on the sofa. “You needn’t worry. I’m a vegetarian.”

Lemmy wasn’t sure what it meant. He had never heard the term. Did she eat only vegetables? That would make for a very limited diet, especially in the winter, when fresh produce was meager. He wandered around the room, touching the old furniture and the books. A framed photo on the wall showed a teenage girl with light hair and Tanya’s smile. “Who’s that?”

“My daughter, Bira.”

In Hebrew, Bira meant a capital city, but he had never heard it used as a name. “You named her for Jerusalem?”

“That would have been a nice coincidence, wouldn’t it?”

“Where is she now?”

“In the army, defending Israel. Not hiding in the synagogue like the men of Neturay Karta.”

“We’re not hiding.”

“I didn’t mean you personally. You’re too young, anyway.”

“I’ll be eighteen soon.”

“Will you enlist?”

“In the Zionist army?” He rolled one of his payos around his forefinger and played with it. “We defend the Jewish people by praying and studying Talmud.”

“You really believe that prayer and study would protect Israel from three hundred million Arabs armed with the best Soviet weaponry?”

“Torah says: God shall fight for you, and you shall be silent. For the righteous Jew, faith is the mightiest shield from enemies.”

“Do you know the story about the Jew who complained to God that he was so poor that he couldn’t feed his cow?”

“There are many of them.”

“That’s true. Well, this Jew got an answer. God told him that he would win the lottery.”

Lemmy leaned against the wall, watching her.

“A week later, when he complained to God that he didn’t win the lottery, God asked: Did you buy a ticket?”

Lemmy laughed. He paced along the wall, returning to Bira’s photo. She stood against a background of large buildings and signs in foreign letters. “How old is she?”

“Twenty-one. She even has a boyfriend.”

“ Mazal Tov. When is the wedding?”

“It’s too early to think of a wedding. They’re dating, that’s all. Movies, dancing, kissing, you know, being young.”

He examined the photo. The signs in the background were in German. “Is she really your daughter?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you look too young.”

Tanya touched her face. “I was seventeen when Bira was born.”

“And your husband?”

“He was already dead.”

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. He saw a newspaper on the coffee table, Ha’aretz, a Hebrew daily that was banned in Meah Shearim. The date was October 7, 1966, yesterday’s paper. He read through the headlines. China’s Independence Day marked by a conciliatory letter from Moscow. U.S. government proclaiming optimism that Hanoi would accept the peace initiative to end the Vietnam War. Syrian diplomats, in a meeting with UN General Odd Bull, threatened an attack on Israeli air bases. Terrorists infiltrate through the border with Egypt and sabotage fuel lines. Shots from the Jordanian side of Jerusalem injure an eleven-year-old boy playing soccer with friends, while UN observers stood by. Ben Gurion celebrated his eightieth birthday at his Negev Desert kibbutz with President Shazar and the author S.Y. Agnon, but without Prime Minister Eshkol.

Lemmy turned the page and read the first paragraph of an article about the release from jail in Germany of Nazi leaders Albert Speer and Baldur von Schirach. The writer expressed regret that the two men had not been executed twenty years earlier with the rest of Hitler’s henchmen.

A photograph on the opposite page shocked Lemmy. It was his father! Under it, the paper reported: NETURAY KARTA RABBI: ABORTION IS MURDER!

The Knesset Committee on Health heard testimony from Rabbi Abraham Gerster, leader of ultra-Orthodox sect Neturay Karta, regarding proposed legislation to permit abortions for out-ofwedlock, incestuous pregnancies, or when the mother’s physical or mental well-being is at risk. Rabbi Gerster declared: “Laws are made by God, not by democracy. God said, Thou shall not kill! Did God set a minimum age for murder victims? No! A viable fetus is a live person, created in God’s image! How could you allow doctors to kill babies inside their mothers’ wombs?” Security officials fear anti-abortion riots by ultra-Orthodox extremists, especially after last Saturday’s rock-throwing incident.

Tanya asked, “What do you think? Will history repeat itself? Like the Jews who killed each other inside the Temple during the Roman siege?”

“I don’t know. God will decide our fate.”

“What’s the word inside Neturay Karta?”

“Abortions are a symptom of Zionist decay, like driving during Sabbath, eating pork, violating sacred gravesites for antiques. That’s why we shun the secular Zionist society that surrounds us. Most Talmudic scholars believe God will soon punish Israel. Some want to throw rocks, attack government buildings, maybe burn police cars.”

“And you?”

“Me? I’m too young to decide those things.”

Her hand rested on his shoulder, her face very close. “So who’s going to decide if Jewish blood will run again in the streets of Jerusalem? Rabbi Abraham Gerster?”