Last time we got to see the most Goyish shtetl in the world, where the only Jews to speak Yiddish happened to learn it thanks to a German-descended (as opposed to what, Khazars?) in-law named Gretchen. What will this terrible book have in store for us today?
First, I realize I was remiss yesterday in cataloguing yet more improbable names. It turns out Reisa has a cat. Its name is Boris. Why she didn't call it "Czar, Jr." or "Borscht," I can't say. There, now we're all caught up.
First scene: Reisa is sitting in the shul--actually, we're informed its an "outer room which had been added" to the shul (??) waiting for Grandpa Jacob to finish his Hebrew lessons
with five bored and unruly boys.
Finally some realism! And it only took 26 pages. (Ok, that part is unfair. In keeping with the standard of logic used elsewhere in this book, the story starts on page 7, just to screw with page count.)
Now we get to meet the rabbi. Aren't you just dying to learn his name? You're in for a treat...
Across from her sat Reb Chaim Gurion, the spiritual leader of the small congregation.
Now then, the first name is actually just fine-- one of the first realistic Hebrew names we've heard so far. However the Gurion part is downright stupid. Guryon is a Hebrew personal name that, near as I can tell, has long fallen out of use. The only modern Gurion anyone has heard of is good ol' David Ben. I'm sure Morris thought he was being clever or subtle on this one, and it could have potentially worked out, except for the whole pesky anachronism thing.
Thing is, the first Prime Minister of Israel, like most of its early founders, Hebraicized his name when he went to Israel, because he was actually born in Russian Poland, and... most Russian Jews had Yiddish or Slavic-derived surnames! David Ben Gurion was born David Grün, you bozo, something you'd know if you'd actually ever looked him up.
Also, Morris is confused about the term Reb. He thinks it means Rabbi when it actually means Mr., and later on he will use it in incorrect and irritating ways. Spoiler alert.
Hang on, the rabbi's talking.
"Tell me, Reisa, I know your grandfather's giving you different subjects in the Torah and the Talmud. What are you studying now?"
Ok, Torah is possible-- AFAIK, historically the Bible was considered "kid's stuff" on a Jewish scholarship level, so it's fairly plausible that Reisa would have been learning it. However it is extremely unlikely that her dear Zayde would be teaching her Talmud. Didn't you see Yentl?
This is another indication that Morris is basically applying Christian conceptions about things like text study and covering them with a very thin Jewish veneer. Ashenazi Jewish study culture of the 1800s was much more structured, particularly regarding subject matter and gender roles, than he seems to think. This is not Little House on a Prarie where someone just whips out a Gospel and speed reads. Also, yet again Morris seems to have very little knowledge about how Jewish life, particularly regarding scholarship, was highly variable depending on social class and geographic location. Rural Jews were often simply not that Jewishly literate.
Back to the text:
"For the last month he's had me looking up passages on the Messiah."
Hmm, convenient and unlikely. Not only is Jacob super-educated and flouting all social norms, he's also encouraging his granddaughter to study esoteric texts on a controversial topic that most Yeshiva students don't even deal with. Incidentally, you study Talmud with a partner-- your instructor doesn't give you a topic and shoo you away to leaf through it on your own.
"Indeed! Fascinating subject. Let me test you then. You're familiar with Moses Maimonides?"
Maimonides? Come on! Rabbinic acronyms, man!
"Yes, indeed. He was the famous Jewish scholar of long ago."
As opposed to all the other ones, who were just poseurs.
"And how many articles are in the creed of this famous scholar?"
Ok, not only does your dialogue read as dense as lead, Jews don't refer to a "Maimonidean Creed." Maimonides' work is called the Thirteen Principles of Faith. Incidentally, because it's called the Thirteen Principles of Faith, quizzing someone on how many there are in it is more than a little redundant, kind of like asking someone what flavor their banana is.
More conversation:
"[The Messiah] has been a part of Jewish faith since biblical time. Has your grandfather told you of the origin of the word Messiah?"
"No sir."
Why the hell not? Wouldn't that have come up before?
"The word Messiah is derived from the Hebrew Mashiah."
"And what is the meaning of Mashiah, sir?"
"It means 'the annointed one.' Originally it meant a designation for a ruler king."
Dude, what language are these guys supposed to be speaking? Yiddish? Hebrew? Russian? Chinese? I know you're writing for a Christian audience, but Oh my God.
Blah Blah Blah... Reisa says Jacob is confused by the passages referring to a "suffering Messiah," no leading questions there...
Here's something interesting. Morris has decided to give us some backstory on Gramps.
Long ago [Jacob] had wanted to be a university professor, but he had been forced to abandon his studies to support his brothers and sisters after the death of his parets. Instead of a professor, he had become a tutor of Hebrew to other men's children.
Excuse me, but most Jews were banned from universities (or even living in the cities where they were). If he had been educated enough to be a professor in a university, he wouldn't have moved back to the shtetl and become a lowly Hebrew teacher, particularly since the upper-crust Jews tended to be the most assimilated (if not actual converts). But don't let a little thing like facts stop you.
A few pages later Morris introduces us to the word Zaideh, "the Yiddish word for grandfather," which, he helpfully informs us, "Reisa often used as a term of endearment." You know, as opposed to say, an insult.
-----
A few days later. Reisa is having English lessons with the unlikely-named Yuri, who is totally Jewish (and enjoys eating things "lustily" as well as "with relish). He's been to America and has bad news about the Jews there.
"...do the Jewish women keep their hair covered?" Jacob demanded. "Do they wear scarves?"
"The more Orthodox do, but even when I was there a new movement was going on."
"What kind of a movement?"
"It was called the Reform Movement."
"I've heard of it." Jacob leaned forward with interest. "What do you know about it?"
"Not much--except I was against it..."
Some things don't change.
"...Why should we change the ways of our fathers? Would you believe they have services in English and not in Hebrew?"
German, even!
"...And they say there's no need to eat kosher food. Why, wwould you believe I've seen Jews eating meat and then washing it down with milk?"
"It's an abomination!" Jacob exclaimed. "They could not be good Jews."
"They think they are. Anyway, I was glad to get back here where men still hold with the old ways of God."
Funny line coming from an author who's also a Baptist minister. Maybe it's like how people like Daniel Lapin claim they and conservative Christians get along just great, it's secular Jews they both can't stand. Incidentally, I don't think Reform was flouting kashrut quite so explicitly at this point-- we're still a good twelve years from the Trefa Banquet.
----
And now the most exciting thing to happen in the whole book: Reisa had a sleepover with Yelena over in the next village because they were planning on going to a wedding. But instead, a pogrom happened. Whoops! They run to the woods but there are "cossacks" [sic] everwhere, and they try to have their way with them. Yelena sacrifices herself by jumping on one of them so Reisa can get away. Luckily, we are told Reisa "had always been a fast runner." Oh good.
Cossacks are still running (sorry, it actually says "lumbering"-- apparently this chase is going to take a while) after her, but one of them takes time out of his busy schedule to remind her that this is happening because she is a "Christ-killing Jew." Good to know. Reisa runs all the way home to Grandpa Jacob. He says he guesses now's as good a time as any to get started on that whole America thing. Then, rather than offering a quick Brocha for his granddaughter escaping deadly Cossacks, the Traveler's Prayer, or anything else that makes sense, Jacob decides to get all fancy with the prayin', reciting almost all of Psalms Chapter 3. I have to give Morris credit here, though-- it looks like he used a decent translation. So, point to you, sir.
Reisa ends the chapter by inappropriately touching her grandfather's face, admiring "the faith in her grandfather's fine eyes" and finishes the psalm for him. Creepy.
Next Time: Jews on a Boat. (Shuffleboard, anyone?)
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