There are no brains in America, and the streets are paved with dumb

The Reisa Crew are finally in America, so now it's time to encounter some of that old-timey opportunity we've been waiting for. Jacob goes off to find the synagogue to see if he can find some work teaching Hebrew. Dov lands a gig almost immediately unloading boxes at the docks, and Petya finds work with a tailor. So far, so good.

Reisa and Petya walk around, gaping at New York.

It was not a clean place, she saw at once. There were dark hallways and filthy cellars, all crowded with dirty children. They clustered on stoops and fire escapes and in wash-hung courts, and in the trash-laden alleys they played their little games with balls and sticks.

Is Reisa OCD? Did she and her friends used to spend their free time sweeping the mud road in the shtetl? Come on, she should be used to some grime here and there. Incidentally, if she's never been to a city, how does she know what a fire escape is?

Reisa and Petya pass peddlers selling, well, everything.

'They sell almost everything out here on the street, don't they, Petya?" 

"Almost, it seems. I don't see how they all make a living. Some of the stuff is so cheap." He pointed out that bandannas and tin cups sold for two cents and peaches a cent a quart and damaged eggs for practically nothing.

Ok, he's literally been in the country for a day and a half. How on earth does he know how much a cent is worth? Even better, is he reverse-translating back into kopecks? Also, why are people selling bandannas? Are Gypsy fashion trends sweeping the town? Is there an anachronistic gang-banger convention going on?

Back at the Golds, Jacob comes home glum. It turns out Jews already know how to read Hebrew. Darn!

After dinner, Gold Jr. teaches Reisa some more English, then gives her some advice:

"You're very quick, Reisa." Joseph nodded. "You must learn how to speak well and to write well. This is not Russia. We must put all that behind us." 

"Must I?" Reisa said wistfully. "I have good memories of my home there. It was hard, but I miss it already."

Really? Because most of chapter 1 consisted of you nursing a one-eyed goose, taking a bath in excruciating (and creepy) detail, affectionately calling your cat a mamzer, which, we were informed, meant "trickster" (um, no), spending most of a page staring at a guy hanging from a gibbet while musing on "the gruesome symbol of rough justice," and reminiscing about the time looking at maps made you feel depressed because you knew you'd never leave your village so you stopped looking at maps. There was almost no description of your home or village. Even the narrator thinks it sucks:

...it never occurred to her to think what a pitiful sort of village it was, for it was all she had ever known of the world.

And that was all BEFORE the Cossacks ran through town killing and raping everyone. So, yeah, you may say you really like Russia, but I have one suggestion for Morris: Show, don't tell, stupid.

As in the previous chapter, Reisa uses the Gospel of John as a sleeping aid, after first marveling over an add for P.T. Barnum's circus in the newspaper.

The section she read told the story of the prophet Jesus who met a woman at a well. This fascinated Reisa, for she well knew that women in biblical times had almost no honor or position. No man would speak to a woman in the open, so as she read that Jesus spoke to one, she became engrossed.

Ok, let's take this one at a time:

A- How is she defining "biblical times?" The Tanakh spans from the start of Jewish time to events occurring around 450-400 BCE (books of Malachi and Esther). So that's already a good 3300 years. Then there's another 400-plus years to get to Jesus. Don't you think 400 years is a pretty big freaking lacuna to traipse over as a way of suggesting that this girl considers the New Testament "biblical?" If "biblical" as a term applies to over 4000 years of history then it ceases to have much of any useful meaning at all, doesn't it?

B- This girl is simultaneously the most and least well-read Jew I've ever met. How is it that she's been studying Kabbalah, Talmud and messianic prophesies and yet has never bothered to crack open a bible? She's never heard of Eliezer chatting up Rebeccah, Eli chastising Chana at Shiloh, Deborah giving orders to Barak, or Naomi and Ruth working their independent women shtick via the rather clueless Boaz? Oh right, she hasn't because Morris hasn't. Keep forgetting that little detail.

Also, women had no honor or position? That must be why the Talmud talks about the seven prophetesses and why Judaism praises the four matriarchs, even to the point of turning some of them into quasi-pagan fertility goddesses. I like that you don't let research muck up your creative juices, Morris.

She followed the story, amazed that Jesus knew about the woman's life without ever having met her!

This is hilarious given that a minute ago she was just as enthralled by the prospect of going to Barnum's greatest show on earth. Something tells me that if she ever sees a mentalist perform, her head will explode.

Finally she reached the parts that said, "Ye worship ye know not what: we know what we worship: for salvation is of the Jews." This thrilled her and surprised her, for she had not known that Christians thought this way. Of course, she knew that Jesus himself was a Jew.

I wonder how widespread this view actually was among the rank-and-file Jews 100-plus years ago. I know it was common among the educated classes of philosophers and rabbis, but I'm skeptical of how much this actually trickled down to the commoners. Then again, given that Reisa seems to be running for Chief Rabbi of Batshitistan, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at her holding such learned opinions.

Finally her eyes fell on the verse that said, "God is a spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth." 

She thought about this verse for a time. God was a spirit. Anything other than this was idolatry. She was pleased with this thought.

Right, so then how do you square this with viewing God as a spirit and a man? Hello?

Reisa's eyes fell on the next verse, which hit her with more force than she had dreamed. "Jesus saith unto her, I that speak unto thee am he." 

No! It can't be true! Jesus cannot be the Messiah. He died!

Um, why is her entire faith (and reason) being shaken by these random quotes? It's not like Jesus is doing anything or proving anything noteworthy here. Essentially her interaction with the book is: "I am totally God." My God, he's totally God! It sure is lucky no one gave you a copy of the Satanic Bible or the Book of Mormon. Or say, Mother Goose. Next you'd be raving about flying cows and anthropomorphic silverware.

I can't decide if the reason Morris isn't trying very hard to make his case means he thinks Christianity's positions are just that obvious, or whether he thinks these are actually some kick-ass arguments for the faith.

Next time: Reisa becomes a working girl.

We're back. *Tear*

I thought I had moved on, but the siren call of Gilbert Morris' Jacob's Way keeps calling me back. Our brave author, refusing to be cowed by details like historical facts, authenticity, or plot, needs to have his hard work acknowledged by at least one Jew out in the wide world of Jewdom. So here we go: Chapter Five- the Lower East Side.

Reisa and Jacob are waiting to get off the boat. As they say goodbye to their fellow nautical prisoners from the last few weeks, Reisa tells some of the nice Russian Gentiles to look her up "in the Jewish part of New York." Maybe this is supposed to be humor from Morris? Who knows.

On their way off, the leader of the Russian prayer circle comes over for a chat.

He hesitated for only a moment and then nodded as if coming to some sort of agreement with himself. "God spoke to my heart last night and told me to do something."

Which other organs of yours does God speak to?

A little disconcerted by this, Reisa blinked. She was not accustomed to meeting people who heard directly from God.

Reaction 1: Yes, as Reisa is not accustomed to meeting crazy people.

Reaction 2: So is this like a "Christians speak to God but Jews are too far from the Lord to hear him" kind of thing?

Anyway, Russian clergy guy gives her a copy of the Gospel of John, and as usual, Morris never bothers to tell us what language anything is in.

Reisa, Jacob, Petya and Dov leave the ship and immediately discover that, to their total surprise, America is full of people. Including people not like them!

There were Greeks, Albanians, Germans, Englishmen, some wearing costumes such as none of the small party had ever seen before.

My God, not Englishmen! They're the most exotic of all!

Jacob worries that they won't be able to find the hilariously named Laban Gold, their contact and host in New York. Reisa has an idea:

"Perhaps we can find a policeman," Reisa said timidly.
"I don't much trust soldiers," Petya said. "They haven't been kind to us at home."
"This is America," Reisa said quickly. "The police and the soldiers here will be good."

This coming from the lady who just lived through a pogrom and near-rape? Sorry Morris, I just don't buy it. Maybe if she had spent her life living in the fun La-La land of Little House on the Prarie, her naiveté and optimism would make sense here. But the lady saw her friend get slaughtered in front of her and witnessed most of the village getting massacred. At best, she's got some heavy PTSD issues to work through. Add the fact that she's been tossed into a series of totally unfamiliar situations and is now completely out of her element in a foreign country where, by all rights, she should be next to incapable of speaking the language, and this "There are no Cats in America" mentality seems ridiculous.

Anyway, they all make it through the Castle Garden inspections and promptly get lost in the Manhattan streets. Luckily they run into a Hasidic Jew (really? In 1871?) and Jacob strikes up a conversation with him:

He moved forward and said in Hebrew, "Greetings, sir."

Ok, fine. So maybe he said Shalom Aleichem or something. Sure.

The guy takes them to the Lower East Side and leaves them to find Laban Gold. Petya goes off to try to find him. The other three decide they're hungry.

The three made their way the cafe. When they looked up at the sign which was in Yiddish, Reisa said with delight, "Good. They speak Yiddish."
"Indeed. I think most people do in this place. Haven't you heard the people as they pass?" Jacob said.

This suggests that the conversation Jacob just had with Mr. Hasid took place entirely in Hebrew. Oy.

In keeping with Morris' terrible naming streak, the owner of the cafe is named Micah Pankoff. Sure, why not. As long as we're culling the Bible for random character names, maybe he can have some kids named Nimrod or Ahijah.

They eat their meal and it turns out that Micah is good chums with Laban Gold (maybe they run a support group for Jews with silly anachronistic names). As the party leaves, they have a parting chat.

"I will see you on the Sabbath day." Micah said.
"Yes. God be thanked. We will be there." Jacob replied.

Why does Morris think Jews talk like the Amish? Why is their dialogue so stilted if they're speaking their native language?

They find Casa de Gold, but say they have no money to pay rent. Luckily, Laban Gold is a charitable fellow:

Gold threw up his hands in a gesture of disain. "We will work it out. We must stick together, we Russians."

Yes, because if there's anything the immigrant Jewish experience taught us, it's that when push comes to shove, common Russian nationality is what keeps people together.

The Golds invite them all to have dinner (which is weird because they just had lunch, but whatever). Jacob, in keeping with saying random things out of nowhere, decides to compliment their hostess.

"I am a little tired. It was a wonderful meal. Absolutely kosher and delicious, Mrs. Gold."

Yeah, I know whenever I have Shabbos dinner with someone, the first thing I always say at the end is, "Hey, this was really kosher. Good job! You've come a long way since that pork chop incident."

Reisa goes to bed and reads the Gospel of John the Russian preacher gave her:

Opening it, she saw that it was in English, which pleased her.

Um...

1- She already opened the book at the beginning of the chapter. Morris wrote,

It was a small, thin book, and when she opened the first page, she read the title The Gospel of John, It meant nothing to her, but she turned a few pages rapidly and saw the name of God mentioned many times.

Ok, if she flipped through the book and saw that the name of God was in there, and if the title was Gospel of John in English, then she already knew the book was in English! (Which would also mean, I suppose, that the "name of God" she saw was "God.") This was only ten pages ago; is Reisa just so damn fluent in her two-dozen languages that she forgot what language she was reading?

2- Why is a Russian Protestant who isn't even in America yet reading an English translation of the Gospel of John, much less passing it along to a Jewish girl whose English is even worse than his? I know it's convenient for where Morris is going, but come on! Someone really needs to get on printing some Cyrillic pamphlets or something.

Anyway, Reisa goes to sleep meditating on the line that the Lamb of God will take away the sin of the world. FORESHADOWING!