A Cobbler's Tale by Neil Perry Gordon

Author:Neil Perry Gordon [Gordon, Neil Perry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller, War
ISBN: 9781732667709
Google: tZc8vAEACAAJ
Amazon: 1732667705
Barnesnoble: 1732667705
Goodreads: 41187059
Publisher: Ingram Spark
Published: 2018-08-29T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 38

THE TZADDIK

Moshe couldn’t sit any longer. He rose and walked over to the hundreds of old books in the rabbi’s study. He had never been in here before, and the musty smell of old leather and decay filled his nostrils. The first book that caught his eye was the largest book on the shelves. In large gold-leaf type, the title on the binding read: The Atlas of the World. He carefully slipped it out and placed it on the large wooden desk.

Where is America? he wondered, gently turning the large crisp pages.

“Good morning, Moshe,” the rabbi greeted him. “What are you looking at?”

“Oh, hello Rabbi,” Moshe said, startled. “I found your atlas, and I’m trying to find America. Is that okay?”

“Of course, Moshe. Let me help you.”

Rabbi Shapira stood next to Moshe and flipped the pages to the section titled North America. “The atlas is divided by continents. America is here,” he said. “Now let’s find where your father is. He’s living in New York City, isn’t that so, Moshe?”

Moshe nodded his head. “In a place called the Lower East Side, his letters say.”

The rabbi found the pages for New York State. “Let’s see, here it is. New York City.”

Moshe leaned in as the rabbi pointed to the southeast corner of the island of Manhattan. He imagined his father working in his cobbler shop and wondered if he missed him or even thought about him.

“Moshe,” the rabbi said, closing the giant book. “Come, sit. I need to speak with you.”

Moshe sat down in an old upholstered chair with horsehair stuffing escaping from worn and torn splits in the fabric. It poked sharply at Moshe through his lightweight pants, causing him to shift uncomfortably.

The rabbi explained to Moshe about a conversation he had with his mother about his “episodes.”

“What’s an episode?” Moshe asked, unfamiliar with the word.

“It’s those times when you feel sick right before something bad happens. She shared several events with me,” he said. The rabbi counted off each instance starting with his index finger. “The first time she recalled was right before you and Max stumbled upon those men in the woods, and shortly thereafter in the basement with Max. Are all these true, Moshe?”

“They’re true, Rabbi,” he answered, feeling ashamed.

The rabbi put his large bony hand over the boy’s. “It’s nothing to feel bad about. You have a sense of knowing when danger is imminent.”

Moshe looked confused.

“You know when something bad is about to occur,” the rabbi clarified.

“Why does this happen to me?”

“I have been thinking about what happens to you, and I believe I have found an answer in the Talmud,” he said, pointing to the large leather-bound volumes resting on the desk in front of him.

“You are a tzaddik, Moshe.”

“I’m a what?”

“A tzaddik, a healer. Not a healer like a doctor, but a healer of souls. A tzaddik provides solace to those in despair. Your ability to foresee danger is a clue. The teachings tell us that the tzaddikim first begin their journeys as empaths.

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