Avraham Azrieli - The Masada Complex

There was great joy around him, fellow Jewish men and women singing, their voices strong, defiant of America and its shifting political winds. Masada’s expose had been a blessing in disguise. The wave of anti-Semitic attacks was causing thousands of American Jews to move to Israel. Rabbi Josh sighed. If only he had not waited, foolishly believing his son was safer in Arizona than in the land of his ancestors.

The first two buses departed for the terminal, and new ones arrived to pick up more passengers. He searched the faces around him. “Levy?” The rabbi stood on his toes. “Levy Silver!” He picked up the tied-up wood sections of the dais and approached the police officers leaning against their vehicle. “Did you see a little man in a black beret?”

One of them pointed, and the rabbi saw Silver sitting on the ground. He walked over and kneeled by the professor. “What’s wrong?”

A shadow fell over them. A familiar voice demanded, “What are you doing here?”

Rabbi Josh looked up, stunned. “Were you on our plane?”

Masada ignored him, her green eyes burning in her pale face as she leaned over the professor. “You lied to me!”

The rabbi felt drawn to her like a compass arm forced by a magnet. But he remembered Silver’s story, how she had lured Al Zonshine. Come, big guy.

Masada pointed a finger in Professor Silver’s face. “You promised to hire a lawyer-the best lawyer in Phoenix! Where is he?”

“Yes. I know.” Silver opened his arms helplessly. “But I thought you’d be free. The judge said they must release you in the morning, right?”

“Answer me!” She shook Levy’s shoulder.

“Leave him alone,” Rabbi Josh said. “Can’t you see he’s not feeling well?”

“Do you know what you’ve done?” She thrust her bruised wrists in the professor’s face. “I’m back in this hellhole because of you!”

“But I didn’t know,” Silver pleaded. “I thought you’d be released.”

“You promised a lawyer, and I get this ?” Masada kicked the ground, her face twisting in pain. “Damn you!”

Unable to restrain himself, Rabbi Josh shouted, “Enough! Enough! Enough!”

Masada’s ears rang from the shouting. She had never heard Rabbi Josh raise his voice, let alone shout at her. After twelve hours of seething, being stuck in the rear of the packed plane, with her hopes for a lawyer dashed, she could no longer contain her rage. Without a second thought, she raised her hand and slapped the rabbi across the face.

“Oy,” Silver said.

She stepped back, shocked at what she’d done.

The rabbi touched his cheek. “Haven’t you sinned enough already?”

She didn’t answer.

“Pray for forgiveness,” he said. “That’s why God brought you here, to his holy land.”

“It’s not me who should repent,” Masada said. “You’re not fooling me Agent Frank! ”

He continued to look at her with innocent eyes. “Yes, I also have to repent. I do repent. Every moment that I’m awake. But you, after all you’ve done, have you no remorse at all?”

“ Kinderlakh, please!” Levy Silver reached up, and they helped him to his feet. “Joshua, Masada, I beg you like I would beg my own children. This isn’t a place for fighting.” He closed his eyes and recited, “ Go, depart from your birthplace, from your father’s home, and travel to the land that I will show you.”

“Give me a break,” Masada said. “Enough with the quotes!”

Silver looked up at her. “Didn’t I plead with you to stay in Phoenix and show them how my girl fights back? Didn’t I tell you to ignore the self-interested TV reporter? I assumed you’d be at your house by now. I was going to phone you as soon as we landed to discuss the lawyer. We have to make a choice and move forward!”

Masada tried to read his eyes through the thick glasses. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re going to Israel?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. I have an appointment at Hadassah.”

“You’re going to the hospital?” Masada felt the blood drain from her face. There it was again-her bad luck infecting the people she loved. “What’s wrong with you?”

“A minor problem.” He gestured at a hydraulic crane, raising a platform to meet the plane cargo hold. “Let us pay our respects.”

What are you afraid of? Elizabeth tried to calm her nerves. She looked away from the uniformed Israelis, using her hate like a lever to lift her spirit. The body search in Newark had shaken her to the core. How dare they? She had already drafted a scathing complaint to Continental Airlines about this blatant ethnic profiling in clear violation of U.S. civil rights laws.

She saw the rabbi look up as the coffin descended from the plane. He wore a skullcap, his light-brown ponytail held with a rubber band. Elizabeth circled the group to get a better look at him. His strong, handsome face was struck by grief. Professor Silver, standing next to him, looked much more like a Jewish rabbi than this athletic hunk.

An airport hand in orange coveralls pried open the coffin. The rabbi kneeled, resting his elbows on the lid, and spoke quietly, saying words no one could hear.

The coffin was closed, and the rabbi stepped back, wiping his eyes.

A small book appeared in Silver’s hand. He opened it and recited, “ My voice, to the Lord I shall call; to God, my plea shall reach; and he will hear me; on the day of my agony, Master, my hand is extended to you, my soul seeks comfort. ”

The rabbi stood next to him, swaying back and forth, his lips repeating the words.

“ I shall remember the Lord, ” the professor chanted, “ my sighs, I shall not cease, my breath is faint .”

Elizabeth was impressed with his proficiency in the Jews’ scriptures. Had she not conversed with him in Arabic about his daring plans, she would never doubt he was a Jew. As if to test her ability to suspend disbelief, Silver raised his bespectacled face at the sky and pled, “ Forever will you neglect us, Lord?” He paused, taking a deep breath. “ When, Father, will you be pleased again with your children? ”

Thinking of her own father, Elizabeth felt her pocket, which held the folded page of her scribbled notes for the acceptance speech on Wednesday. It had taken many years, but in a few days her father would finally be pleased with her again. She had redeemed herself.

A black station wagon backed up to the platform and two bearded Jews loaded the coffin. They shook hands with the handsome rabbi. Elizabeth came closer to listen. “Five o’clock at Sanhedriah Cemetery,” one of them said. “The taxi driver will know where it is. Don’t be late. We have to finish before the Sabbath begins at sunset.”

The rabbi handed them an odd-shaped package, which they placed in the car next to the coffin.

“Be gentle with our boy,” Professor Silver said. “His name is Raul. Five years old.”

Elizabeth was amazed with his composure, so different from the panicked old man who had appeared at her apartment in the middle of the night after his sidekick had killed the boy.

“Raul?” One of the bearded man examined the bundle of papers in his hand. “Does he have a Hebrew name?”

“Yes,” the rabbi said, “his Hebrew name is Israel.”

Elizabeth heard a groan and saw Masada turn and rush to the waiting bus.

Raul. Israel. Srulie . Masada clung to a pole in the front of the bus. There were seats in the back, too far for her to reach without collapsing. Raul. Srulie .