by Ran Weber
“Deals over the Passover Seder?”
Ben smiled a tired smile. “You haven’t clocked Avi yet, have you?”
Avi Schetritt beamed. He looked his best – a fake tan, an elegant black suit and a gleaming white shirt.
“I am so happy to see all of you. It’s at moments like this that you can tell who your true friends are. Passover is the festival of freedom, the time of the Jews’ departure from Egypt.”
I looked for a place to sit. This seemed like it was going to take a while.
“I’m not going to bore you, my dear friends,” he announced. “My message is short and simple. Just as the Jewish people had to leave Egypt and not only think about it, so too in our day, every single Jew must figure out how to get out of Egypt, how to thwart external limitations to obtain true freedom. To be a free people in a free land. In order to reach the land of Israel, the people of Israel had to traverse the desert. They left a place of settlement, Egypt, and eventually reached a place of settlement, the Land of Israel, but on their way, they passed through the desert, the domain of snakes and scorpions.
The period ahead of us is not a simple one. There’s going to be great havoc in the world, but remember, we’re going in a good direction. Even if everything seems bad, even if you worry about the future of your children or the future of our beloved country, don’t be afraid. We will get through the hard period.
After the period of the desert – a period of uncertainty as in the desert, when the children of Israel did not know when they would camp and when they would travel. After all, we too, at least most of us, don’t know what a day will bring. A new era will dawn,” he winked at Ben, who averted his eyes from him.
“My brothers and sisters!” he said excitedly. “Let’s read the Haggadah. We will remember what we come from and understand where we are going, in a shared vision of internal and political strength. Only we can bring forth change. Worthless politicians will not do it for us. In order to reach the Land of Israel, we must agree to leave Egypt, to abandon our comforts and habits. In order to achieve real order, we must go through political and national disorder.” Polite applause filled the hall.
Binyamin was right, it didn’t take long after that. Schetritt speeded through the Haggadah and invited the guests to enjoy a lavish meal. It was my cue to beat it. Ben saw me slip out and nodded at me with overt jealousy.
***
I approached Binyamin’s house. In the distance I heard joyous voices, and I was glad that I had a refuge from the madness of Schetritt and his friends. The door was half open. I went in.
“Oh!” Binyamin cried. “How good it is that you have come home, we’ve reserved a good seat for you!”
Binyamin, Aharon and Donnie sat around a table, with a place for me, neatly set with silverware, plates and a cup.
“You’re here just in time,” he said, looking at his watch. “I see that I was right, it didn’t take very long.”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I said. “The important thing is that I made it there.”
“Indeed,” Binyamin said.
I sat down in the seat that was allocated to me. On my plate, I saw a matza and next to it an empty wine glass, Binyamin filled it with red wine. Donnie looked at the glass and gestured at his empty glass.
“You’re drinking wine mixed with grape juice, Donnie! You recall what happened last year,” Binyamin said.
Donnie chuckled and waved a dismissive gesture. “So very highly-strung, our Binyamin. We repainted the wall in no time.”
“Do you know why we place these things on the Seder table?” he pointed to the table. “Why are there matzot, charoset, maror, wine, egg and zeroa, everything that’s on the Passover plate?” asked Binyamin.
I shrank slightly in my place. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll tell you,” he said. “It says that the Haggadah should be spoken before matzot and maror, that it should be recited specifically in front of a Passover plate, in front of concrete things. The story of the Exodus is not something that has been and gone. Every year we must recollect the story and recount it. To recount - lesaper – is derived from sapir, which is to illuminate or warn. The story evokes in us the spiritual light of Pesach, but if we don’t add tools to it, if it is not connected to practical mitzvot, it’s worthless.”
I had nothing to say to that. I listened.
“Father, father, let’s move on with the Haggadah, please,” Aharon said.
“Oh, yes, the Haggadah tells us about four sons, Yoav, remember?”
“One wise, one wicked, one simple, and one who doesn’t know how to ask,” I recited.
“Right! We learn that all the people of Israel sit together in the Seder, without differences. The wise, the wicked, the simple and the one who doesn’t know how to ask. As in Sukkot, when there are four species that include all the people of Israel, ranging from those who have taste and smell to those who have no taste or smell. So it is in the Seder – we meet everyone around the table.”
“But what about the evil one?” I asked. “No one considers himself evil. Perhaps everyone thinks that the other is the evil one.”
“Right,” Binyamin said, and sighed. “That’s exactly the problem. Everyone thinks he is wise and the other is evil. You may consider the four sons as different parts of each of us. Every one of us has within them the wise one, and evil one and simple one and the one who does not know how to ask.”
“How do we identify evil within us?”
“The truth is that you can easily recognize the evil in each of us, we need only see what he says. Each of the sons says something, each of the sons is a voice within us. The evil one says what is this service to you? To you and not to him, and then the Haggadah adds: Because he disassociated himself from the collective and denied a principle. If a person sees that he is removing himself from the congregation, that he does not belong, that things pass him by, that is the point of evil within him. The very fact that you are standing on the side, everyone is working and you scorn and ask philosophical questions.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, “but if you see in him a bit of good, in this evil one… You once told me that a bit of good makes a difference. That if you see in the evil one a bit of good then you discover.”
“You’re right,” Binyamin said, looking at me with kind eyes. “You’re completely right. When you see good in the ‘evil’ one, that good is the connection. Everyone is united in the good and when you manage to also see a little good in him, it means that a connection has been established between you. The problem of the evil one, as you recall, is detachment. The fact that he feels disconnected. When you see a little bit of good in him, a connection is made. This little connection brings the evil one out of detachment and then he transcends and is filled with goodness.”
61
The Valley, Los Angeles
“So, what exactly happened in Hebron?” Binyamin asked me. Aharon sat next to him, holding a chocolate-spread covered matzah.
We sat on the lawn at a shaded round wooden table. I still felt the effects of the wine from last night, the Seder evening at Binyamin’s house. The truth is that this was the first time in my life that I enjoyed the Seder – years of drawn out turmoil and finally something I connected with.
“I told you, terrorists murdered Yossi, my friend,” I recalled in shame.
“Yes, but you said you left him in the field. Is that really what happened, you just ran away?”
“I’m not sure, I don’t really remember. I think so. That’s what I recall, at any rate, but it’s all very vague. That’s what came up in the investigation, time after time.”
“Investigation?”
“Yes, that’s what the acting commander testified. I wasn’t sure at first, but slowly it came together more and more. That’s what... I’m not sure of anything. I’ve been made to go through it so many times that I
’m not sure of anything.” I stopped for a moment and thought about things. “In my dream that’s not how it goes.”
“In your dream?”
“Yes,” I said, lowering my gaze. “I have a recurring dream. In the dream, I don’t run away, in the dream I stay with him. But it’s a dream,” I said, looking up. “If I were to believe every dream...”
Binyamin looked at me. “You don’t believe in your dreams enough, Yoav.”
I wanted to say something but he stopped me. “We grant a great deal of validity to the reality we remember or think we remember. We live in the sense that reality is concrete and objective, in the illusion that what we see is the absolute truth.”
“And isn’t it?”
“Not necessarily.”
62
Schetritt Industries, Downtown Los Angeles
The room was dark. The computer was connected to a projector and projected onto a screen. The two Iranians sat in the center of the room with Schetritt beside them. Ben moved about the room, from the computer to the light switches, making sure everything would function properly. “Amazing!” Farhan was ecstatic. “Did you see that?”
Ben had gotten into the “Times” editorial and inserted a small news item. He copied it from the news agency and changed several minor details so as not to arouse suspicion, but enough to demonstrate that they had actually been able to perform the hacking operation.
Schetritt read the item with satisfaction. “I told you so. Can you trust Schetritt , or what?”
The Iranians clapped their hands. Ben switched the lights on and closed the computer.
“What about the code itself?” asked Farhan.
“Our teams are working on it,” said Schetritt proudly.
“You can do nothing without the code,” said Ali and crossed his hands.
Farhan nodded. “But this also shows some progress, doesn’t it?”
“Of course,” answered Ali, “Of course, a great progress, but still, if they don’t get us the code we have nothing. Anyway, I am making great efforts to get the code in other ways. Do you remember, Schetritt , that if we get the code before you do, that the deal is off? Don’t forget it.”
Schetritt stared at Ali, then turned to Farhan, “Did you bring the advance?”
“How do we know this is real?” asked Ali.
“What do you mean?” asked Ben. “Didn’t you just see it? I got into the The Times and ‘planted’ a news item. He paused for a moment and added, “Unless I erase it, it would appear in tomorrow’s edition of the newspaper, both the online and the printed ones. Don’t you believe me?”
“What are you saying, Ali? Did you want to say something?” asked Schetritt .
“I haven’t said anything, ya Schetritt,” said Ali. The tension in the room rose. Farhan looked at Ali. “I am merely suggesting,” said Ali, “that we see it in the newspaper first, shouldn’t we?”
Farhan nodded and turned to Schetritt . “Thank you for helping us in doing justice in the Middle East. We will wait for the morning to see the newspaper. Ali is right, there is no need to rush things. I have the money, you can count on me, you have my word of honor.”
Schetritt nodded. “Your word of honor,” he echoed his words, “of course.”
63
Venice Beach, Los Angeles
It was a short drive to Venice Beach and there was plenty of available parking space when we got there. It was a bright, sunny Sunday and Binyamin and Aharon suggested that I join them for the trip. Aharon said I’ve been spending far too much time with my computer and he thinks I should come with them. There were all sorts of strange characters walking about the main boardwalk, one of them was a tall black man, dressed in a tight, strange-looking outfit, roller-blading along and holding an electric guitar. He carried a small amplifier on his back and played his guitar while skating. Behind him, a man walking seven dogs trudged slowly. It was as if all the weirdos in America have decided to meet in a single place. Binyamin noticed my shocked expression. He laughed and motioned for me to turn right. “There’s a nice quiet place here, we could have our picnic there.”
I parked the car. We got out and headed to the beach. Binyamin stopped. “Blankets,” he said and turned to the stores. We went inside one of Venice Beach’s tourist shops. It was full of Native American objects: flutes, dream catchers and, of course, various rugs.
The vendor was a man of about fifty with a thick mustache. I looked at the dream catchers, wooden circles containing a woven net supposed to capture bad dreams according to Native American legends. I examined them closely. I need some serious dream catcher to get rid of my tiresome dreams, I thought to myself.
“Looking for something?” the vendor asked and bit on his cigar.
“Eh…” I started to say and Binyamin immediately stepped in. “We’ll take these two,” he said and pointed at two sitting blankets placed beside the cash register. He quickly paid for the blankets and hauled them on his shoulder.
When we were out of the store, the vendor cried out after me, “Don’t forget, he who is connected to the earth is respected by it.”
“What are your thoughts about dream catchers, Binyamin?” I asked.
“I think the solution to your dreams is to simply wake up and start living, not hang rags in your room.”
We found a quiet, secluded spot overlooking the sea. It was shaded and protected, but still open enough. Binyamin put down the picnic cooler and spread the blankets. Aharon said he wanted to build a sandcastle.
“Need a hand, Aharon?” I asked.
“I know how to do it myself,” he said and took the small pail and shovel from the bag Binyamin had brought.
He walked toward the waterline, the place where the soft sand kissed the wet sand and sat down. He turned his head to us and said, “I’ll tell you when the sandcastle is ready.”
I smiled. “Independent, isn’t he?”
Binyamin looked at Aharon, who sat by himself and started digging in the sand. “A little too much, perhaps.”
I sat on the blanket and looked at the sea. “Care for a Breezer?” asked Binyamin.
“A Breezer? Now?”
“Yes. When would you like it, tomorrow?” he took a Breezer out of the bag and handed it to me. It was ice-cold.
I opened the bottle and took a sip. Binyamin drank from his own Breezer and looked at the sea.
We were both silent.
“Actually, I don’t really know you,” said Binyamin.
I didn’t answer. He went on. “I mean, what is it that you are actually doing?”
“I have a gaming store in Tel Aviv. Haven’t I told you?”
“Maybe,” he said and took another sip of his Breezer. “And do you like what you’re doing?”
“Not really, but it passes the time. It gives me peace and quiet and I have my own little corner.”
“Doesn’t sound very exciting.”
“It isn’t.”
“Have you always been like this?”
“Like what?”
“Settling for unexciting things?”
“No,” I said and looked at the heavens, “certainly not.”
“So what happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“When did you stop dreaming?”
“I don’t know, I think it was a process. When I was a child, I used to have dreams, but slowly, reality closed in on me. Now I’m more or less just trying to survive.”
He took a deep breath and buried the bottle in the sand next to the blanket. “What was your dream?”
It was too embarrassing. Finally, I mustered my courage and said, “I wanted to save the world.” I was sure he would burst out laughing.
Binyamin gave me a questioning look, “And…?”
“And what? Don’t you get it? Save the world. You know, like Superman
or something like that.” I paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “But the world isn’t waiting to be saved. Everyone is busy in his own little corner and nobody really cares. Soon enough, I realized there was no way I could ever save the world.”
“That’s simply not true.”
“What, that nobody really cares or that I can’t save the world?”
“Both. Each one of us should say to himself: this whole world was created just for me. This whole world, Yoav. People, planes, continents, trees, oceans, even little things like Doritos. It was all created for you… don’t you get it?”
“Get what?”
“The moment you realize this whole world was created just for you, you need to start dealing with correcting it, doing what we call ‘Tikkun Olam.’ This is exactly what you wanted to do, Yoav, to save the world! This is truly what you should be doing. Each one of us can correct the world. Each one of us can and must deal with it, even…” he lowered his eyes.
“Even what?”
“Even someone like you. Someone who feels he might be a nobody, because all he does in life is sell computer games to children. This doesn’t mean anything, Yoav, you don’t have to be Superman to save the world. You don’t have to be the Chief of Staff of the United States Army to save the world. You just need to do what the Creator has intended for you to do. You just need to want to do good in the word.”
If only I could, I thought. And if only I could open my mouth and tell him the truth. The truth that even I, being too busy running in circles around myself, haven’t been paying attention to. I truly was on a mission to save the world. Me, little Yoavi.
I started laughing aloud. Who would have believed it? Little Yoavi on a real mission to save the world from the evil clutches of the Iranians. Perhaps there was a guiding hand to this world after all.
“What are you laughing about?”
“No, no, excuse me,” I tried to stop myself. “It was just something I remembered. Something very interesting.”
He looked into my eyes and said, “I’m not kidding. This might sound delusional and insane, but it’s the truth. If each of us uses his power to do good in the world, it could bring about redemption. It could change the entire world. If only we agree to feel that way without giving up, if only we agree to allow some room for the pain inside us, the pain resulting from that terrible gap between our sacred wishes and the broken reality around us,” he finished his words in a much lower tone and closed his eyes.