Jerusalem Interlude by Bodie Thoene & Brock Thoene

Author:Bodie Thoene & Brock Thoene [Thoene, Bodie & Thoene, Brock]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: www.FamilyAudioLibrary.com
Published: 2009-06-10T05:00:00+00:00

The letter to Etta was duly deposited into the mail slot at the Mandate post office in Allenby Square. The old rabbi knew that it would take at least eight weeks to arrive in Warsaw. First it would travel by slow boat to England. Once there, it might float aimlessly from this capital to that. Oy! The frustration! But at least it was quicker now than it had been when he was a boy. Then it had taken maybe eight months for a letter to go from Jerusalem to Warsaw. And sometimes it did not arrive at all.

Ah, well. Rabbi Lebowitz himself was slowing down these days. The heat of the afternoon seemed to push him backward as he leaned into the incline up toward Jaffa Gate. He raised his eyes to heaven and smiled. The Jell-O in his pockets seemed to call, Look up on the wall, old man. There are English soldiers there, nu?

“Yes! Enough! I see them already!” The old rabbi passed through the teeming gate and turned right along the road of the Armenian patriarchate. The barracks of the Old City British soldiers was along this road, near to Christ Church. Plenty of Englishmen there might be willing to explain the mystery of the lime and the cherry powders.

He yawned wearily and studied the faces of the soldiers in search for the one who might meet his eyes and be of service to the cooks of Tipat Chalev.

Soldiers emerged from the stone barracks along the wall. Other soldiers stood in the niches on guard against wild Arab bands and old Jewish rabbis with bombs disguised as Jell-O packets. Who to ask? There was an abundance of Englishmen here, all moving this way or that without stopping.

Rabbi Lebowitz stopped in the center of the cobbled road. He frowned. He squinted. He shaded his eyes against the glare. There, in front of the gate of Christ Church, was a young Englishman dressed all in khaki who looked very much—no, exactly like young Eli Sachar!

But of course it could not be Eli Sachar. Eli was back at Tipat Chalev moving crates of this loathsome, troublesome stuff. The old man removed a box from his pocket and held it up to hail the young man at the gate.

Such similarity could not be ignored! God had sent this English look-alike especially to help, the old man was certain. He could say, “You look just like a young fellow only a few blocks from here! Come see . . . and while you’re at it, there is this stuff from America!”

A crowd of Armenian schoolchildren passed between the old man and the miraculous twin. And at that moment, Oy! The young man who looked like Eli Sachar but who could not be Eli Sachar stepped through the gate of Christ Church.

This was also proof that the young man could not be Eli. Every old one in the Jewish Quarter remembered the reason all the Sachars avoided passing within the shadow of Christ Church.

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