Jacob could understand her feelings, since she hadn’t really been exposed to religion as a child. But his own childhood had exposed him to Judaism but deprived him of a father to learn from. Perhaps if he’d had sons Jacob would have been more aware of the need to pass on Jewish ideals. Still, he felt ashamed of having neglected his children’s spiritual needs…
“…and I’d like a new dress, papa,” Rachel was saying.
“How much will it cost?”
“I don’t know.”
“How much? A thousand dollars? With the clothes you buy, you mean you don’t know?” Sara said.
“About fifteen dollars, papa.”
“So you’ll go buy a dress. Tell me, Rachel, what
shul
are you going to?”
“It’s not a
shul
, it’s a temple.”
“What’s the name of the temple?”
“Temple Sinai.”
“Sara, we’ll all go.”
“You have to be a member, papa, and you have to pay.”
“So…Sara, find out how much it costs.”
“Why do you want to become a member, Jacob? When will you go?”
“When I’m home. If not, you’ll go with the girls.”
“They already go, Jacob.”
“To Sunday school only, papa.”
“Keep still, Rachel, this is between papa and me. I’ll call tomorrow. And incidentally, Jacob, since you’re in such a generous mood, we all need clothes—including you.”
Rachel was very pleased with herself…she’d beaten mama with papa…
As for Doris and Lillian, they couldn’t quite believe it. They were going to have their first store-bought dresses. But their hopes were short-lived. Sara took the wooden dome off the Singer sewing machine and within four days the dresses were done.
They were even more disappointed when Rachel came home with a blue jumper and a polka-dot blouse with a large bow that tied at the neck. She looked like an angel, and her slim body made Doris envious. Funny, she ate the same things. How come Rachel was so thin and she was so fat? Doris was even more upset when mama bought a beautiful brown silk dress and a pink feathered hat from the Gray Shop, and the most gorgeous brown suede shoes and bag to match. It must have cost a fortune. For once, papa didn’t say a word when she gave him the bill for forty-nine fifty for the dress and fifty dollars for the shoes and the bag. When papa tried on his suit and gray fedora from Hart, Schaffner and Marx, he and mama and Rachel looked so elegant that Doris felt she and Lillian were being treated like stepchildren. She was embarrassed by her plaid dress with the sweet little white collar and cuffs. She not only looked like a blimp, but like a juvenile of ten.
Lillian seemed satisfied with the yellow silk. But, after all, she was only a little kid. What did she know…?
On Rosh Hashanah eve, dinner was served early. The dishes were scraped and left in the sink to soak in the Fels Naphtha soap because mama wanted to get dressed.
The girls were waiting in the livingroom when mama and papa came down the stairs.
Rachel stared when she saw papa holding the red velvet sack with the gold-embroidered
Torah
. Well, no use procrastinating. “Papa, you don’t need that. No one wears a
tallis
and
yarmulkah
.”
Jacob was astonished. “What kind of a place is this?”
“It’s reformed.”
“Reformed from what, Judaism? If you’d told me, I wouldn’t have gone.”
“I love your sudden interest, Jacob. It’s all or nothing with you,” Sara said.
“I never worship without a
tallis
.”
“God will forgive you. You haven’t worshiped for so long that a
tallis
more or less—”
“I asked you to join a synagogue, didn’t I?”
“Please, for once let’s not fight. It’s Rosh Hashanah,” Rachel said, almost in tears.
Jacob put down the velvet case and walked quickly from the room, with his family following…
They sat in hushed reverence, listening to the organ playing as the choir sang. Two huge floral arrangements of gladiolas and mums stood on the pulpit, and beyond were enormous golden candelabra. Exquisite walnut carved panels covered the eastern wall. Suspended from the ceiling hung the ruby-red glass eternal light in front of the doors which would later reveal the
Torahs
with their silver crowns.
Jacob’s gaze wandered to the balcony, to the golden pipes of the organ and the choir dressed in black robes, then to the stained-glass windows. His attention was diverted by the rabbi, who stood before the congregation looking like a Harvard professor or even a judge, but for the neatly folded
tallis
over his long black robe. Jacob not only felt uncomfortable, but totally uninspired as the rabbi began.
He read in English from the prayer book as the congregation sat silently. Then the cantor replaced the rabbi and sang to the accompaniment of the organ, the pauses in his singing punctuated by the choir’s “amen.”
So this was a temple? If anything needed reforming, it was Temple Sinai. This was not Jewish, these were not Jews. Hatless! What was there to indicate this was a Jewish house of worship? Jacob felt alien, out of place. It was about as Jewish as the church he had called Rachel out of so long ago. The only difference here, it was so quiet, if a pin dropped the organ would stop playing. They didn’t even call the man up there rabbi; he was addressed as doctor…Doctor of what? No wonder Rachel loved it—it must be just like the Catholic church. He hated being here and once again he was angry with Sara for sending Rachel to a convent.
His anger was no greater than Doris’ fears. The flowers, the organ and the flickering candles made her feel faint. She prayed she wouldn’t throw up as she almost had at Isabelle’s funeral. Please, let it be over. She didn’t want to be here, it wasn’t at all like Sunday school.
Rachel sat watching her mother and smiling to herself. If the lights went out, mama would fall asleep. The only thing that was important to mama about this occasion was the new clothes. My, how regally she had descended the stairs, as if she were a queen.
Lillian squirmed in her seat. She opened and closed her purse, tugged at her white cotton gloves and looked around the sanctuary at the solemn faces. Her lovely brown eyes looked up to the vaulted ceiling, then across to the balcony. She counted the ladies dressed in red, then in green, orchid and blue. The red were more predominant. Suddenly she felt mama’s arm on hers. “Stand up when everyone else does.”
Lillian bolted up and then watched mama carefully for her next cue. Suddenly the congregation was seated once again.
The president of the temple rose to make a few announcements about upcoming events. Then the rabbi wished him a happy Rosh Hashanah and shook his hand and the president took his place next to the cantor. After the rabbi intoned the benediction, the cantor came forward and the entire congregation—except the Sanderses—sang the closing hymn.
The Lord of all, who reigned supreme,
Ere first creation’s form was framed;
When all was finished by His will,
His name Almighty was proclaimed…
It went on for four more stanzas. And for this Jacob had paid one hundred and twenty-five dollars for seats? What kind of a temple asked money for tickets? It was like going to the Orpheum.
Toward the end of the service the mourners’
Kaddish
was said.
As Lillian started to stand, she was held down by Sara. It was certainly very confusing. First she was told to get up when everyone else did, and here mama and papa were standing and a lot of other people were saying something in a foreign language:
“Yis-ga-dal, v’yis-ka-dash.”
She whispered to Rachel, “First mama wants me to stand, then she doesn’t. How come we’re not and mama and papa are?”
“Because you’re not supposed to if your parents are alive. It’s a prayer for the dead.”
Doris overheard and started to tremble inside. She felt ill throughout the
Kaddish
and the concluding hymn. She was never more relieved than when the rabbi pronounced the benediction and she saw the congregation leaving their pews and walking up the aisle. Once outside, she took a breath and exhaled deeply. People stood on the broad stone steps between the beautiful marble columns, exchanging holiday greetings with family and friends. For once she didn’t envy the conversations in which she had no part.
Making their way through the crowd, the Sanderses walked up the street to the parking lot and got into their Dodge sedan.
Jacob started the engine and drove out. Silence prevailed. No wishes for a happy Rosh Hashanah, no embraces or kisses, nothing…
Rachel pursed her lips in the dark. What could she have expected? Her parents just didn’t have any feeling for their religion. Money was papa’s god and martyrdom was mama’s. Or so it seemed to her seventeen-year-old mind.
Halfway home the silence was broken when Jacob announced: “I’m not going back to Temple Sinai.” He almost spat out the words. “If that’s reform, it’s no better than being with a bunch of
goyim
. What kind of a religion is that?”
“I thought it was very impressive,” Sara said.
Rachel laughed to herself. The beautiful temple and the ladies’ elegant dresses were what impressed mama. She didn’t understand the significance of tonight’s service. She heard papa saying, “It was as religious as the Baptist church and just as Jewish.”
“That’s because you have a closed mind. If it’s not like the little
shul
on Hester Street with all the
Yiddles
in their
tallises
and
yarmulkahs
, wailing and pounding their breasts, it’s not Jewish. There’s so much noise and confusion going on you can’t even hear. How stupid, women sitting upstairs separated from their husbands. I think it’s archaic. If a husband and wife can sleep in the same bed, then I think they can sit together in temple too.”
“Church, you mean. Listen, Sara, I want to join a
shul
…”
“Absolutely not. I’m not going to bring my children up with all those
meshuggeneh
rituals. This is America.”
“You went when we lived in New York.”
“Of course. What should I have done—stayed home with all the family going? But I didn’t like it. I wasn’t raised that way.”
“I know, you were raised like a princess.”
“Yes, I was, and I think my spiritual values are as great as yours. You didn’t have a
bar mitzvah
, you never went to
cheder
, you don’t even understand Hebrew. So what are you making such a fuss over? You’re still living in the old country, except you aren’t—”
“And you’re living like a queen. When did you ever have so much? From your mother?”
“Don’t talk about my mother. At least I developed an open mind from her.”
“I’m not going back again, you hear? I don’t have to spend my hard-earned money to sit with a bunch of
goyim
who don’t even cover their heads. And I don’t want any of the children to go again. Some religion…”
Rachel bit her lip. She would go whether papa liked it or not.
The argument went on until they reached home. Happy Rosh Hashanah…
It was three in the morning when Sara got out of bed, walked down the darkened hall to the bathroom and saw a beam of light coming from under Doris’ door.
Doris slept so lightly that she bolted up in bed as she heard the knob being turned. Maybe the angel of death had come to claim her—
“Doris, what are you doing with the light on?”
“I don’t like to sleep in the dark.”
“You don’t like to sleep in the dark? What are you, a baby? Turn the light out, the electric bills are high enough,” and Sara switched the light off as she closed the door behind her.
Doris cowered under the sheets. Covering her head, she pleaded, “If you’re there, God, please listen. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die…” She cried until she fell into exhausted sleep…
On Yom Kippur Rachel came to the table dressed in her blue jumper.
“What have you got that on for?” Sara asked as she served the chicken and the noddle
kugel
.
“Because I’m going to hear
Kol Nidre
.”
Sara waited for Jacob to answer, but he said nothing. Having warned them on Rosh Hashanah that none of them were permitted to go to the reformed synagogue again, she thought he would forbid Rachel to go this evening. To her amazement, he said nothing and simply continued to eat.
When the meal was finished he announced, “Everyone get dressed, we’re going.”
Doris ran to the sink and this time threw up.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her lately,” Sara said, as she took a damp cloth and wiped Doris’ flaming face. “You feel better?” Sara asked with genuine concern.
“No, I don’t, mama.”
Sara looked at her. She’d lost weight, her eyes were hollow and almost glazed. “Next week we’ll go to the doctor.”
Doris had never been to a doctor before. Mama must have guessed she was going to die. “No, I don’t want to go to a doctor, I’m not that sick—”
“We’ll see…”
“I can’t go tonight, mama. My stomach hurts.”
“What do you mean…where?” Jacob asked.
“Just all over. May I please be excused? I want to go to bed.”
Jacob recalled how ill Doris had been when Sara had given birth to Lillian. Then he could hover over her, kiss her and hold her. Now he couldn’t do it, much as he wanted to. All he could say was, “Go to bed, Doris. You’ll feel better.”
“Thank you. Have a happy Yom Kippur, papa, mama. You too, Rachel and Lillian.” …
Doris heard the front door close and listened to the silence. She had never been alone in the big house before and suddenly it became more forebidding than even Temple Sinai. She was going to keep the light on till mama came home…
This evening, when Jacob heard the sound of the
shofar
blown, somehow all his disenchantment vanished and was replaced with a deep sadness. Good God, didn’t the loneliness ever leave the heart? This evening he missed his mother terribly, and thoughts of Shlomo and Gittel only deepened his feeling of need. Sara…more and more there seemed so little understanding, compassion…he couldn’t even confide in her…but tonight was the Eve of Atonement and such thoughts should be far from his mind.