Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

Rina paused. “Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss creamed chicken and lime Jell-O?”

“No, Decker. Miss what you left behind.”

“I was very alienated from my church by the time you met me. Don’t forget, you weren’t my first Jewish wife.”

“Why were you so alienated?”

“I don’t know…independent spirit. Maybe I just didn’t like the attitude: that man was born a sinner. I could never accept the dogma that newborn babies were sinners. Then, after I found out about my Jewish roots, I became even more estranged. I find the Jewish concept much more livable despite the restrictions. That man was put here, not just to worship God in order to be saved but to do good deeds. It subscribes to the philosophy that man is basically good. Which is what I believe.”

“After everything you’ve seen, that’s quite an endorsement of mankind.”

“I’ve seen the worst. But I’ve also seen the best.” Decker smiled at his wife. “It was nice that you talked to Sammy about Disneyland. His memories are very important.”

Rina nodded.

“Sounds like you had a good time.”

“Relatively speaking,” Rina said. “We stayed until the park closed, watching the electric light parade at midnight. I remember thinking how wonderful it was…how normal I felt.”

She hesitated, her eyes watching a distant videotape. She returned her focus to the present.

“Normal in a relative sense. Because there I was, a frum woman with two little boys wearing kipot and tzitzit, standing next to a priest in full religious regalia. Meanwhile, I had a husband dying at home. Rav Schulman had agreed to care for Yitzchak so I could take Sammy to Disneyland for his birthday. He actually asked Bram to go with me because he didn’t think I should be alone. You can imagine how bad off I was if Rav Schulman sent a goy to be my shomer-my guard.”

Decker said, “Can I ask you how he and Yitzchak became friends?”

Rina stared at her half-eaten dinner. “Bram was writing a book-interpreting the Chumash in a very Catholic way-which is what they do.”

“The gentiles. Or should I say goyim?”

“Goy is not a bad word, Peter. It means nation. It’s used with Jews as well.”

“It’s just the way the Jews say it when they refer to gentiles. He’s such a goy-”

“You’re teasing me. You’re only hurting yourself,” Rina chided. “You shouldn’t be interrupting me if you want to pump me.”

Decker laughed. “Go on. Bram was writing a book on the Bible.”

Rina organized her thoughts. “Bram was young and very brash. Apparently, he waltzed into Rav Schulman’s office one day and started asking him questions about the Talmud. Bram was lucky that he had picked Rav Schulman who treats everyone with kindness.”

Decker nodded. “More than they deserve.”

“Probably much more than Bram deserved. The Rav was patient. Rather than brushing him off-which almost anyone else would have done-the Rav struck a deal with him. There’s an eesur-a prohibition-against teaching Talmud to gentiles. The Rav got out of it by telling Bram that he’d be happy to answer his questions just as soon as Bram had mastered Chumash. Of course, Bram wasn’t anywhere near that level.”

“A good dodge.”

“A very good dodge.” Rina smiled. “But Bram was clever, too. He told Rav Schulman that he couldn’t possibly master Chumash to the Rav’s specifications because he didn’t know how we taught Chumash. So he needed a Chumash teacher. Rav Schulman couldn’t teach him personally, but he knew Bram wouldn’t give up. Bram was very persuasive, back then.”

“I could tell.”

“He was more than persuasive, he had the ability to manipulate words. The Rav recognized this right away. He decided to send Bram to one of his students, someone whose emmunah-whose faith-was ironclad and indisputable. So he sent him to Yitzchak.”

“They hit it off right away?”

“Not quite. Yitzy’s knowledge of Chumash was photographic-commentaries and all. Yitzy had a photographic memory about everything. But he had also been a ba’al koreh-a reader of the Torah. So he knew Torah-Chumash-comma by comma or rather, trupp by trupp. So along came Bram. At first, they just learned a little, went over a few basics. Yitzy was feeling him out, trying to ascertain Bram’s level…which he thought was pretty high for someone trained outside the system. Then slowly, slowly…I could almost see the wheels turning inside his brain…Bram started trying to put things over on Yitz. You know, showing off what he had learned, coming up with an obscure Jewish source, positive that Yitzy had never heard about it.”

“Wrong approach?”

“Very misguided. Yitzy would listen politely. Then he would quote the source letter perfect, and come back with more than a few of his own sources, gently showing Bram why he was misinformed, flooding him with information the poor guy wasn’t equipped to process. By the end of a month, Yitzy had unwittingly demolished him. Then they got along great. Because then, Bram was ready to learn.”

Decker said, “One couldn’t have expected a Catholic seminary student to know as much Chumash as a yeshiva bocher. It wasn’t Bram’s main text.”

“You’re right. I knew that. Yitzy knew that. Rav Schulman knew that. It just took Bram a little while to catch on. Anyway, they became very good friends. Even Yitzy didn’t realize how good a friend Bram was until he really needed him.”

Indifferently, Decker said, “What happened with Bram’s book?”

“Oh that!” Rina rolled her eyes. “He had a contract for it. Something like Messianic Teachings in the Old Testament, as they call it. Pretty offensive to a person of strong Jewish beliefs.”

“Like Yitzchak?”

“Like me. I read part of it. For me, it was as if he was playing exegesis games with our holy book and using it for his own purposes.”

“But isn’t that what he believes?”

“Absolutely. From Bram’s point of view, he was simply interpreting the Bible the way he had been taught. One thing I should make clear. Even with Yitzchak as his friend, Bram never wavered in his faith. Last time I saw Bram, he was just as strong a Catholic as he is today. But after learning with Yitzy, knowing him personally, knowing how the Catholic Church had persecuted Jews over the centuries, Bram had some misgivings about publishing his work.”

Rina sighed, poured herself a glass of iced tea.

“Somehow the powers in Rome got hold of the unfinished manuscript.”

“Somehow they got hold of it?”

Rina smiled. “You’re right. He probably sent it to them. Anyway, they thought it was a very scholarly work. About three, four months after Yitzy died, Bram was invited to the Vatican to complete two different versions of the book-one for the clergy, another more simplified version for the Catholic schools. He was also promised ordination by the Pope at St. Peter’s Basilica through some hotshot seminary in Rome…in those gorgeous gardens overlooking the city. Pontifical something. He called it ‘New Men’ for short.”

“Ah, the power of power. Bram published the book.”

“To Bram’s credit, he asked me what he should do.”

“You told him to go ahead. He knew you would.”

“Probably.” Rina paused a moment. “Yes, I told him to go ahead. I didn’t want the responsibility of stifling someone’s golden opportunity. Besides, as strange as this may sound, I knew the priesthood was his calling.”

“Did you ever see him after he left for Rome?”

“Yes. Apparently, he came back right after I took the family to New York for the summer. I almost stayed there permanently. Come to think of it, I never could figure out why I returned to L.A. All the men were in New York.”