“He hit you too?”
“I don’t blame him. Anyway, Ali reacted and went for him, so—” He shrugged. “Will you tell him how sorry I am? It was really a stupid thing to do.”
“I will tell David when I see him again. He went back to his unit on Monday.”
For a long moment, she looked at him, her eyes unreadable and very disturbing. “And why were you following me, Brad?”
“We saw you coming out of the concert and—”
“I know. You said that Sunday night. But why?”
Brad had given that a lot of thought himself in the past four days. He decided to be perfectly honest and direct. “I don’t know.”
It wasn’t much, but it seemed to satisfy her. “And you were so sure I’d be angry that you’ve been avoiding me these four days. I’m not sure that speaks very highly of your opinion of me.”
“No,” Brad protested quickly. “It was just that I felt so embarrassed about the whole mess that I didn’t want to face you.”
“Does that mean you’ll be looking for another guide?”
He searched her eyes. “No, I hadn’t planned on it. I just thought a few days’ wait might not hurt.”
“I’m offering discount rates this week.” She smiled at his surprised look. “Fifteen dollars for a half-day tour, or fifteen dollars if you would like the full day. It is the best rate in town.”
He stared at her, his eyes incredulous. “Are you serious?”
“Of course.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I see. Then let’s say ten dollars a half-day or ten dollars for the full day.”
“Miri! You know what I mean!”
“Five dollars a day, and that’s my last offer. My father won’t let me take any less,” she added with an impish grin.
“Okay, okay,” Brad said, his expression still one of disbelief. “Fifteen dollars it is. But I provide the car. And definitely book me for the full-day program.”
She put out her hand. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Kennison. When would you like to begin?”
“Well,” he said slowly, holding her hand for just a shade longer than was necessary, “I’ve been very busy. I couldn’t possibly leave before tomorrow morning. Is that too soon?”
She shook her head quickly and withdrew her hand. “Tomorrow would be fine. What about your class?”
“Friday is the Moslem Sabbath, remember? No school. How’s that for luck?”
“Perfect,” Miri said, the dimple in her left cheek showing as she smiled.
Brad was still half doubtful. “You’re really not angry about Sunday night?”
She looked at him for a long moment. Then she lowered her eyes to avoid his probing gaze. “No, I think it is one of the nicest compliments I have had in a long time. And what shall I tell my father about Saturday evening?”
Brad gave her a thoughtful look. “Will David be on leave again?”
Miri laughed in delight. “No, of course not. But Nathan will.”
“Nathan I can face. Tell your father I’d be delighted to come.”
Fifteen
In addition to the four Shadmis and Brad, there were five others in the relatively small Shadmi living room. Miri’s uncle, Shlomo Shadmi, whom Levi was helping to get started in business, was several years younger than Levi, but clearly cut from the same stuff as his brother. He had the squat build, the stiff wiry hair, and the piercing blue eyes. His wife, Ruth, was the perfect stereotype of a Jewish grandmother—pleasant brown eyes, a kindly warm face, steel gray hair pulled back in a bun.
Avriel Cohen and his American wife were neighbors of the Shadmis. He was one of the justices of the Israeli Supreme Court and every inch a gentleman of infinite refinement. According to Miri, his wife, Rachel, had been a high-fashion model in New York’s finest salons. Watching her now, Brad didn’t doubt it in the least. Though now in her early fifties, she was still a stunning woman. If he was every inch a gentleman, she was every bit a sophisticated woman. Brad felt almost intimidated by who they were and the very power of their physical presence, but they had quickly put him at ease. They were warm, gracious, and totally unaffected by their status.
The final member of the group was Sergeant Yitzhak Narciss, Nathan’s driver, chief assistant, confidant, and friend. Brad marveled at that. In the United States Army sergeants didn’t spend a social evening at their commanding officer’s home, especially when he was a colonel. But he had heard that Israeli officers wore their rank lightly, earning the respect of their subordinates rather than demanding it. Narciss was solidly built and as lean and hard as Nathan. He was slightly balding and had alert, almost darting brown eyes. He had the look of a man very much in command of himself.
Brad arrived five minutes early, and Miri introduced him to her mother, an attractive woman who had given Miri her clear complexion, finely cut features, and deep brown eyes. Brad liked her immediately, and appreciated her efforts to help him feel comfortable as the others arrived. As she and Miri served glasses of wine to the others, it was Miri’s mother who brought Brad a glass of orange soda.
“Levi tells me that Mormons don’t drink alcoholic beverages,” she murmured. “Do you drink soda pop?”
“Most definitely,” Brad answered, grateful for her concern and consideration.
Bowls of nuts, dates, apples, pears, oranges, and tangerines followed, and very quickly the group launched into animated conversation—mostly in English for Brad’s benefit, but with occasional lapses into Hebrew. It was comparable to being caught in a flash flood, and Brad struggled to keep his head above the conversational torrent.
The mood was intense, passionate, and fast-moving, and rarely focused on trivia. Current political events dominated—the latest developments in the Watergate crisis, the Arab oil embargo, Israel’s soaring inflation, the latest artillery duel in the Sinai. There was no lull, the only ebb and flow coming when the group split into two or three sub-groups, all talking rapidly, intensely, gesturing emphatically.
Someone mentioned the name of Henry Kissinger and his increasing power in the United States government. For a moment there was silence. Then Avriel Cohen, the judge, spoke up, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe. “Mr. Kissinger may have a chance to do more than advise Mr. Nixon on Mideast affairs. Speculation is heavy in the Knesset that Mr. Nixon is just looking for a graceful way to dump William Rogers, and then he will make Mr. Kissinger his Secretary of State.”
Several of the group shook their heads sadly at that news, and Brad noted that Miri was watching him closely for a reaction. She had warned him yesterday that he might come in for some flak. “Israelis feel very strongly about things,” she had said, “and they may ask you some very blunt questions. But you can be blunt with them also. You will never lose an Israeli’s respect by speaking honestly of your feelings. He may grow angry and violently disagree with you—” At that point she had seen his grin, and they both laughed, remembering their own encounters. “We have a saying,” she had continued. “Whenever you have three Jews come together, you will have four strong opinions. So do not be afraid to speak up.”
Rachel Cohen looked over at Brad and shook her head in mock sadness. “You must forgive them,” she said. “Israelis have three national sports—soccer, war, and criticizing America.”
Brad smiled. “I’m learning that.”
“But do we criticize without cause?” the sergeant asked, leaning forward and speaking with his hands. “America tries to tell Israel what she can and cannot do.”
The justice’s wife smiled sweetly at him, then turned to Brad again. “You must understand, Brad. What Yitzhak is saying is that Israel wants America’s help, but only if it is money. No suggestions, please.”
“Some of us,” Nathan spoke up, “wish that Israel would stop taking America’s money for that very reason.”
“That is easy to say now,” Rachel shot back. “If it weren’t for American dollars—federal aid as well as private contributions—there would be no Israel to
day, and you know it.”
Nathan’s father broke in. “What Rachel says is true. It is a great dilemma for us now that America is changing.”
“Brad has a better solution,” Miri said, catching him totally by surprise. Everyone turned to look at him.
“I do?”
Mira nodded. “Brad thinks Israel should trust only in God for its defense.”
“That’s not what I said,” Brad said, as he shot her a devastating look. But she only smiled. It was almost as though she wanted him to challenge the others in the same way as he had challenged her.
“I said I didn’t think Israel is wise to trust only in herself. I don’t think she’s wise to trust only in America either. It just seems tragic that the people who gave the world the idea of one true God no longer look to him in what may be the hour of their greatest need.”
“Only because God no longer looks to us,” Nathan said quickly.
“Nathan!” his mother said sharply. “Do not speak like that of God.”
“Why not? Offer me one proof that God still cares for us as a people.”
“The state of Israel,” Brad said softly. “Here you are in fulfillment of prophecy.”
“No!” Nathan shot back hotly, “not because of prophecy. Because of determination, because of sacrifice, because we refuse anymore to die simply to please the God who chose us.”
The rest watched the two young men, and Brad was suddenly tempted to back down from an open confrontation. After all, he was the guest here. But then he remembered Miri’s advice about speaking his mind. He took a breath and plowed in.
“That is one of the great ironies I find in this land. Israel is the only country in the world that uses the Bible as a textbook in its public schools. Your children know the history. They know the sites, they know the stories, and yet you ignore the most important thread of it all—that God is behind your history. God is your history! How can you ignore the hand of God in bringing Israel into being? In 1967 you fought what could easily be the most miraculous war in history. People call it the ‘incredible’ war. Can’t you see divine help in that?”
Yitzhak and Nathan both started to speak simultaneously, but Yitzhak prevailed. “No. I see the help of brilliant planning, careful strategy, and flawless military execution of that strategy. The Six Day War was incredible because of the way we did it, not because of God.”
Levi Shadmi cleared his throat, letting the tension ease slightly, and then spoke. “Do not be too sure, Yitzhak. David faced Goliath because he had great confidence in the power of his sling. But he said to the giant, ‘You come to me with a sword and spear, but I come to you in the name of the Lord God of hosts.’ Perhaps that is a lesson we should not forget.”
“Brad is a Mormon,” Miri interjected. “Mormons take their religion very seriously.” She smiled at him. “They call themselves Israelites too. They believe they are descendants of the tribe of Ephraim.”
That surprised Brad completely. He and Miri talked almost constantly about Christianity, but he had hardly said a word to her yet about Mormonism. Where was she getting her information from?
That interested the others immensely, and for the next twenty minutes they threw question after question at him. Brad talked of living prophets, the Word of Wisdom, the Mormon concept of temples, the members’ special feelings for Judah. He talked about the great apostasy and the need for a restoration.
“I am well aware,” he continued, in response to a question from Miri about the apostasy, “that so-called Christianity has been responsible for many of the Jewish persecutions down through the ages. That is not the natural product of Christianity, but of apostate Christians. No true follower of Christ would seek to persecute the Jews. That is why there had to be a restoration of the truth.”
Miri’s mother spoke up. “So Mormons do not think the Jews crucified Jesus?”
Brad took a deep breath. He had been expecting that question from Miri and had thought about his answer a great deal. There was no sense trying to duck it. “We accept the New Testament as a historically accurate record, which means—”
“Which means the Jews were responsible,” Nathan broke in.
“The Romans actually carried out the execution, but the Jewish religious leaders were responsible for it,” Brad admitted. “But,” he went on hurriedly, “that is something quite different from saying the Jewish people are responsible. One group of Jews—evil men—rejected him and conspired to bring about his death. But another group—which included people like Peter, James, John, Mary Magdalene, Matthew, Nathanael—all of them were also Jewish, and they accepted him. Christianity was totally Jewish in the beginning. It would be as foolish to say that the Jews—as a people—are to blame for Christ’s death as it would be to say that the Jews—as a people—are responsible for Christianity.”
Something was still digging at Nathan. He lit a cigarette and turned to Brad. “So you reject the idea that God has been punishing the Jews for the death of Jesus for the last two thousand years.”
“In the sense you mean it, yes. I reject that. We do not believe that God punishes one person for the evils committed by another.”
“Do you believe the god of the Jews is the god of the Christians? Of the Mormons?”
“Yes.”
“Then why has he allowed the Jews to suffer so much down through the centuries? Our people have committed themselves to him above all others. They have worshipped him for three thousand years without fail, while all around them the Gentiles have worshipped frogs and crocodiles. And who has suffered? The Gentiles? Not on your life.”
“The Mormons have suffered too,” Miri said, again surprising Brad with her knowledge. “They were persecuted, driven from state to state in America. Their first prophet was killed by a mob. Six thousand Mormon pioneers died when they were driven out by their enemies and had to cross the plains to Utah.”
“Six thousand is far short of six million,” Nathan snapped, obviously irritated at his sister’s interruption. “Have you been to Yad Vashem yet?” he demanded.
Brad looked blank.
“We are going there tomorrow,” Miri answered for him. Then to Brad she added, “It is the memorial for the Jews killed in the Holocaust.”
“Enough of this bickering over who has suffered the most,” Cohen broke in. “Six thousand or six million, either is a great tragedy. I wish to hear Brad’s answer to Nathan’s question. If you do believe in God and say that he is not punishing today’s Jews for killing Jesus, then how do you explain the sufferings of our people?”
Brad looked at the judge, then at Miri, and then around the group. How did he get himself into these situations? He liked these people. They were good people, and he had no wish to offend them. And yet, for Miri most of all, it had to be said.
Brad took a deep breath. “I can only answer in terms of what I believe. You may find my answer foolish or perhaps even offensive.”
“We may not accept your answer,” Cohen said with an encouraging smile, “but we shall not be offended.”
“All right,” Brad went on, choosing his words more carefully than he had for a long time. “We believe that God cannot or will not force himself on anyone. Either one comes to him freely or God allows him to go his own way.”
“That’s a reasonable conclusion,” Levi Shadmi said.
“Second, we believe that knowing about God and the principles he teaches brings a special responsibility with it. When a people have the truth, they become more accountable to God than a people who do not.”
Again several nodded as Brad paused. That was the easy part. “Since the Jews knew God and his laws, they were under a special obligation, which none of the Gentiles were. God had special expectations of them. And when they went into apostasy—that is, when they rejected him, they brought the natural effects of disobedience upon themselves. That is the whole story of the Old Testament. When Israel was faithful, she had tremendous power. No enemy could touch her. No problem could overwhelm her.
But when she turned from God, she immediately lost his power and protection. And the result? Suffering, conquest, captivity.”
He looked at Miri, whose face was attentive but impassive. “In a religious sense, I believe the Jewish people are still in that same state. They have not turned to their God with all their hearts. And so they continue to endure problems, sufferings, and persecutions.”
They were all attentive, so Brad plunged ahead. “Israel and the Jews are not the only people who are turning from their God. Most of Christianity is in the same state. Some Mormons are slipping into the same pattern. They go through the motions of their religion, but God is not the highest priority in their lives. To the degree that a person abandons God, to that degree he will experience sorrow, misery, and suffering. The same is true of nations or peoples.” He sat back, his gray eyes somber. “That’s what I meant when I told Miri that Israel needed to trust less in herself and more in God.”
Nathan raised his glass of wine and spoke, his voice tinged with bitterness. “God, Kissinger, and the United States. Courage, brothers, we have nothing to fear.”
Sixteen
Brad pulled up in front of the Shadmi apartment and turned off the motor. Miri must have been watching, for the door opened immediately. To Brad’s surprise, Nathan came out with her, a travel bag and rifle in his hand.
Miri came over to the car, leaned down, and smiled in at Brad through the open window. “Do you mind if Nathan rides with us?”
“Of course not.”
“He has a staff meeting in Tel Aviv at noon. I thought that after we’ve seen Yad Vashem, we could start seeing things out away from Jerusalem. We could visit some places today in Jaffa and Tel Aviv, and then drive up the coast to Caesarea and see the ruins there. Does that sound all right?”
Nathan leaned over to join her. “Good morning, Brad.” If there was any feeling over their conversation last night, he showed no evidence of it. His greeting was warm and friendly. “Listen, it’s no big thing if this is a problem. I can just hitch a ride.”
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