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The Weekly Shriek -- Destiny
31-Mar-2007
Written by: Joyce Faulkner
“I need to talk to you,” David said when I answered the phone.
“Okay, but how?” My graduate school study partner was an orthodox rabbi. His religion had lots of rules – especially about how men and women could interact.
“How about that bench in front of the Union tomorrow at 2?”
“Lots of passers-by there,” I grumbled. “Let’s hope it doesn’t rain.” My patience for the endless list of places we couldn’t go had worn thin after almost two years.
“It won’t until after we finish our meeting.”
I rolled my eyes. He was sure about things I had long accepted as unknowable. “I’ll be there.”
I could see him when I turned the corner a half-block away. He sat on the bench with his hands on his knees. I waved. He nodded but didn’t wave back. It wouldn’t do for the well-known rabbi of a wealthy congregation to be seen waving to a shiksa in the middle of campus. I didn’t understand him, yet we were friends. Go figure.
“You are early,” I said as I sat down on the far end of the bench.
“I wanted to gather myself.”
“O-kay.” I put my book bag between us. “What’s up, David?”
“After graduation next week, I’m going to Israel.”
“That’s great. Vacation?”
“No. We’re moving there.”
“Wow. What does Hannah think?”
“Hannah and the younger boys are going with me. My oldest son will stay to finish his studies at Yeshiva University in New York. He’ll join us later.”
He told me what Hannah would do, not what she thought about it. For some reason, that made me angry. “It’s safe here – and comfortable. You make a good living.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s my destiny. I’m supposed to go there.”
“How can you know that?”
He sighed. “That’s why I called. I want you to know something important.”
“I’m here. I’m listening.”
“Did I ever tell you about the trip I took to Russia a few years back?”
Our conversations centered on Differential Equations, Fuzzy Logic and Activity Based Costing. “I don’t think so.”
“I went back to discover my roots, you might say – and it was heartbreaking. Between Hitler and Stalin, there wasn’t anyone left.”
I stared at my hands, thinking how they were shaped like my mother’s – and how hers were shaped like her mother’s. It was a small thing, but it was nice to know. “I’m sorry.”
“I took a long look at my life – and I wasn’t happy with what I saw.”
“C’mon, David. You are …”
“Hear me out, please. I wasn’t happy because so many died – and are dying, so that there can be a Jewish homeland. I should be doing my part – but then I thought about Hannah – and our children. I thought about the Temple – and my congregation. I have a responsibility to them too. I was torn.”
This was all very interesting – but I wasn’t sure why he felt he had to tell me. After all, I was just a school mate. His dilemma was none of my business.
“I knew I could never make a living for my family in Israel.”
I stiffened. “You have four degrees. You are a teacher – a rabbi.”
“Rabbis are a dime a dozen in Israel. I needed something practical – so I decided to get this MBA. Maybe I’ll start my own business once we are settled. Still, I was nervous. I’ve never been good at mathematics. The technical side of things …” He shrugged.
“Right.” This was a very intelligent man. I couldn’t imagine him feeling insecure about anything.
“So, I made a deal with …,” he paused. He had an issue with the name of God so rather than go through all the explanations again, I nodded that I understood and he continued. “It occurred to me that if I was supposed to go to Israel, there would be a sign.”
I scratched my head, still confused. “A sign? Like a burning bush or something?”
“That first class – I was sure that I wouldn’t be able to handle all the statistics involved in the project. I decided that if I couldn’t pass the first class, that would be the sign that I should give up the idea of moving my family to Israel.”
“You had no problem at all with that class.”
“That’s because of you.”
“Me?”
“You were – are the sign. You came into my life to help me get through this program.”
“Oh, David. You didn’t need me.”
“There are thousands of students in this university, hundreds in this school. Out of all those people, on the very day that I asked for a sign, the professor assigned us to the same team. I recognized you immediately.”
What he meant was that God picked me to be his lab partner. I hadn’t realized that God was a hands-on manager. David reminded me of Dumbo -- the elephant who could fly as long as he clutched a magic feather in his trunk – and I was apparently that feather.
“We will leave soon. I wanted you to know.”
“We-we just bumped into each other. It was random…”
“I’ve already given thanks. I just wanted to thank you too.”
I ducked my head and whispered. “You’re welcome.”
“It’ll rain now.” He stood up. “You should go.”
“Good-bye, David. Stay safe.”
“I’ll either be safe, or I won’t. I just know this is right.”
The first raindrops dotted the pavement in front of me as he crossed the street. I fished my umbrella out of my book bag and opened it. Standing up, I headed toward the lot where I’d parked my car. Lightning sliced the clouds and water ran in the gutters as I scurried along – not understanding how I could be David’s sign. Would I be responsible if a suicide bomber took him and his family? Sick at heart, I danced from one foot to the other as I waited for the light to change at the crossing.
Something made me glance down. Leaves floated by in the water rushing just below the curb where I stood. A bright red one bumped against a brown one and recoiled away into the swirling current. A green one brushed past causing the red one to spin around and float backwards.
That’s IT, I realized. We’re like leaves riding the same current downstream – and even though we are all focused on our own goals, sometimes we nudge each other in just the right way – and that little touch changes our course for good or for ill.
I closed my umbrella and looked up. Rain flattened my hair against my skull and drenched my clothes. I crossed the street wondering if I’d recognize my sign when it appeared. I hoped so.
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