Three weeks later, when Sondra boarded the
Greyhound bus for Kansas City, she left Lincoln full of self-confidence and
pride at a job well done. Aunt Lotte would again be at the bus station to meet
her, but this time Sondra was going to stay at Debbie’s house. In the beginning
Helga had not liked the idea of Sondra staying with strangers. Lotte had called
her childhood friend, though, and convinced her that the Greenbaum family was a
good family and that it would be a lot more fun for Sondra to stay there.
“Not that we don’t love having Sondra stay
with us,” Lotte had explained. “She is welcome whenever she wants, but Debbie
is a lovely girl and a good friend for Sondra. She needs a Jewish friend.”
Sondra spent the afternoon with her cousins
and then, an hour before Shabbat Aunt Lotte drove her the half a mile to
Debbie’s home. The house was a simple three- bedroom, white frame house, painfully
neat with rows and rows of bookcases filled with books in five different
languages. Debbie introduced Sondra to
her parents and Sondra was surprised to hear their strong East European
accents. She even had a little trouble understanding what Debbie’s mother said
and gave Debbie a questioning look.
“My mother wants you to take out your non-Shabboshghg
items before she lights candles.”
“Oh?” Sondra still did not understand.
“You know, like money or pencils or a nail
kit. Things that you’re not allowed to use on Shabbos. Put them in a special
place so you won’t touch them.”
“Okay,” Sondra nodded, suddenly feeling
shy and uncomfortable.
“Come on,” Debbie took Sondra’s bag. “I’ll
show you to my room.”
Debbie’s room was a contrast to the
neatness of the rest of the house. Her lilac wallpaper was plastered with
photographs and souvenirs. The desk was stacked high with books and papers. And
the guest bed was covered with stuffed animals.
“This is your bed,” Debbie pushed the
animals underneath. “You can put your muktza things in this drawer.”
“My what?”
“Muktza,” Debbie repeated. “You know, the
things you’re not supposed to touch on Shabbos.”
“I’ve never kept Shabbos,” Sondra
hesitated, wondering if maybe she should call Aunt Lotte to come pick her up.
“What if I make a mistake?”
“Don’t worry,” Debbie understood her
friend’s discomfort. “It’s not that difficult. There will be tape on the light
switches to remind you not to turn them on and off. We’ll take the phone off
the hook and, of course, you know not to turn on the TV or radio, right?”
Sondra nodded.
“In the bathroom there’s torn toilet paper
and my mother and I will take care of things in the kitchen and you know we’re
going to walk to shul tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” Sondra took a deep breath.
“And if you make a mistake,” Debbie
laughed, “no one is going to stone you.”
That reminded Sondra of the Puritans of
Salem and as she unpacked she explained The Crucible to Debbie. She told
her about the lunchroom discussion with her friends and how she found it so
hard to understand how the Puritans thought.
“The whole witch hunt trials were based on
lies. Those people knew they weren’t witches. What did it matter if they said they
were and then ran away to start a new life?”
“It’s hard to understand them,” Debbie
said thoughtfully, “because their religion is so different than ours.”
“I always thought they were so similar,”
Sondra objected. “We’re always hearing about Judeo-Christian ethics.”
“I know and I guess we have some things
the same, like the Ten Commandments, but our approaches are so different. A Jew
is only allowed to give up his life for three things, idolatry, adultery, and
murder.”
Sondra thought this over as she hung her
dress in the closet. “But wouldn’t worshipping the devil be idolatry?”
“But they didn’t worship the devil.”
“That’s true.”
“Debbie,” Mrs. Greenbaum knocked at the
door and said something in Yiddish.
“Fine,” Debbie replied in English. “Just a
minute.”
Debbie turned to Sondra. “She wants us to
start our showers. Do you want to go first?”
“I’ll take my shower in the morning.”
Debbie shook her head. “We don’t shower on
Shabbos.”
“Okay,” Sondra nervously twisted the
turquoise ring that Aunt Irene had brought back from the Grand Canyon for her.
“I guess I’ll take the first shower.”
Later, at the dining room table things did
not seem so strange. Mr. Greenbaum sang a few songs and made Kiddush just like her
father did at home. After Kiddush, though, everyone was expected to get up and
wash their hands.
“Take your ring off your finger and don’t
say anything after the bracha until you swallow the bread.” Debbie
instructed.
“What bracha?” Sondra asked nervously.
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you say the
blessing.” Debbie handed her the washing cup.
Debbie's father gave Sondra a reassuring
smile and Sondra would have begun to relax if she hadn’t noticed the number on
Mrs. Greenbaum’s arm. For some reason, they hadn’t tattooed the workers in
Helga’s camp, but Debbie’s mother apparently had not been so lucky. Sondra
willed herself not to look at the brand, but her voice shook as she repeated
the blessing after Debbie. Silently she returned to the dining room.
The twisted loafs that Mr. Greenbaum
uncovered were different than Helga’s homemade bread but just as delicious.
Debbie helped her mother serve the soup and later the main course: chicken,
tzimmis, salad, and finally sponge cake. Nothing about the meal was that
different from the Friday night meals at home. Once the cake was eaten though,
Mrs. Greenbaum apologized for making the meal so rushed.
“Debbie’s father has to get back to shul
for the services. Now that the days are longer there isn’t much time between
the real minyan and the eight o’clock one.”
“The real minyan?” Sondra questioned.
“The real time to pray Friday night is
with sundown,” Debbie’s father explained.
“Most of the people are not shomer Shabbos,”
Debbie added. “They want an eight o’clock service after they finish work and
have had a nice meal. My father and a few other families daven when they’re
supposed to.”
“Oh, I see,” Sondra said, but she really
did not.
Debbie passed out little prayer booklets
and Sondra saw that everyone was supposed to say the blessing after the meal.
At home, her father sang it for everyone.
Later, in Debbie’s room, as the two girls
sat crossed-legged on their beds, Debbie explained some more about her
community. There were about a dozen families who were shomer Shabbos and
tomorrow morning all of them, except for the Greenbaums, the Marcuses, and the rabbi’s
family would daven in a little chapel in the basement of the shul.
It
wasn’t till the following afternoon that Sondra began to see some beauty in
being shomer Shabbos. In the morning she woke up with Debbie and dressed
quickly. She was surprised to learn that they were not going to eat any breakfast
before they left for shul
“I don’t eat ’till after Kiddush,” Debbie
explained. “You can, though. Do you want some fruit or cake?”
“No,” Sondra hesitated. It was clear that
Debbie wanted to leave already. Sondra grabbed her purse and threw the strap
over her shoulder.
“Don’t take your purse,” Debbie said.
“Why not? I took all my money out
yesterday. It just has tissues in it.”
“We don’t carry outside the eruv, the
Shabbos boundary.”
Sondra left her purse on the bed and
followed her friend. Debbie had the five-block walk to the synagogue well
planned out and they crossed from one side of the suburban streets to the other
in order to walk under shade trees. Few cars were on the roads and there were
even fewer pedestrians until they reached the shul. They met Amy and Anna
Goldstein as they pulled open the double doors. Both of the twins had shoulder
bags, but then, Sondra assumed, they had probably driven to shul.
Sondra found that she did not have to
struggle so hard to follow the services. Afterwards, at the kiddush, she
hungrily filled her plate, but before she sat down with Debbie and her friends,
she greeted both her aunt and uncle with a kiss and spoke with each of her
cousins. When Mr. Greenbaum was ready to leave, she saw that he had a young couple
with him. Debbie introduced her and told her that the husband was learning at
the Kansas University Medical School.
“They daven downstairs and they come to us
a lot for Shabbos meals.”
Lunch was not the quick meal like the
night before. They sat around the table for a good two hours eating, singing,
and discussing the Torah portion as well as politics and community news. Even
the food was new to Sondra. There was a stew full of meat, beans, and potatoes
that had cooked all night long, which Debbie explained was called cholent.
The others took heaping portions of it, but Sondra passed it by, feeling safer
eating some of the cold chicken left over from dinner.
It was almost three o’clock when they rose
from the meal. Debbie’s parents walked the guests out and then came back home
for their Shabbos naps. Sondra knew there were several more hours left of
Shabbos and wondered what they were going to do with all the time.
“Do you want to play backgammon?” Debbie
asked.
“I don’t know how.”
“I can teach you. My brother and I always
play when he’s home from yeshiva.”
“What’s that?’
“A school where they learn mainly
religious studies.”
“Oh, where’s his yeshiva?”
“Chicago,” Debbie put the game on the
dining room table. “This is his last year. Next year he’s going to Israel.”
“Really?” Sondra was intrigued. Although
they had not spoken about it for some time, she still dreamed of travelling to
Germany and Israel with Howie.
As Debbie set up the game Sondra found
herself telling her the story of the missing Sefer Torah and how her father had
gone back to Mafdner and found her mother.
“That’s such a cool story,” Debbie
exclaimed. “Do you know what happened to my father when he went back to his
hometown?”
“What?”
“His old neighbors beat him up and told
him to get out of town. And that was after the war was over,” Debbie added
angrily.
“That’s terrible.”
Debbie nodded and then began explaining
the game. They played twice and the second time Sondra won.
“I guess you’re a good teacher,” Sondra
laughed.
Debbie smiled and glanced at the clock.
“We’re supposed to be at Mr. Marcus’s at five. Do you want to play some more or
take a nap, or what?”
Sondra had not thought she was tired, but
once Debbie mentioned the idea of sleeping it really sounded good.
“Do you usually sleep in the afternoon?”
Debbie laughed. “I just started this past
year. My parents always do. There’s something in the Shabbos air or maybe in
cholent, that makes everyone want to sleep.”
It was at the Marcuses that Sondra began
to understand Debbie’s cheerful commitment to all the rules of being shomer
Shabbos. Almost all the kids from the ice skating party were there and most of
them had walked, but just Debbie, Miriam
Schechter, the rabbi’s
daughter, and David Pines, the son of the family who owned the bakery, were
truly shomer Shabbos. The other kids looked up to them and they were natural
leaders, telling stories and leading the songs. They spent a pleasant two hours
around the Marcuses’ table and Sondra had the same feeling she had had at the
ice skating party of really belonging.
Later, after havdalah, the blessing
concluding Shabbos, Mr. Marcus asked Sondra how she had enjoyed the day.
“It
was nice,” Sondra’s eyes sparkled, recalling the singing around the tables both
at lunch and at supper. “But I don’t understand why there are so many rules.
Like does it really make a difference if I tear toilet paper?”
“Oy,” Mr. Marcus groaned. “It’s a package
deal, all the rules. Who knows, if we started tearing the toilet paper we might
ruin the whole thing.”
“You really think so?” Sondra questioned.
“Yes,” Mr. Marcus answered seriously. “I
really do.”
“I’ll have to think about that,” Sondra
said thoughtfully.
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