One American Dream

by Bernard Beck

  At first, they discussed various aspects of the Jewish laws of marriage, including engagement, betrothal, marriage, marital harmony, conjugal rights, and the obligations of a husband to properly provide for his wife.

  But then, my father made a sinister discovery. He realized that while he was in the rehabilitation center, he would be able to have a major impact on Ruthie. He firmly believed that God had acted through his stroke to connect him with Harry. And that through that connection with Harry, he could exert more control over Ruthie than he had ever been able to before.

  My father believed that if he could maneuver Harry and Ruthie into strongly religious behavior now, then the inevitable relaxing of observance that they would experience as they got older and more mature would still keep them within the Orthodox mainstream. He, therefore, focused his discussion with Harry on the subject of Marital Harmony, which in Hebrew is called Shalom Bayit. Literally, “Peace in the House.”

  He began by instructing Harry about how a Jewish husband should behave at home, and how a proper Jewish wife should look and behave. He told Harry that the Talmud states that a man should love his wife as much as he loves himself, and honor her more than he honors himself. He emphasized that according to the Rabbis, a husband who honors his wife will be rewarded with wealth, and that a husband is expected to discuss with his wife any worldly matters that might arise in his life. He made it very clear that any kind of abuse by the husband, either physical or emotional, is clearly condemned by the Rabbis. My father told him that God counts a wife’s tears.

  As for the wife, and here my father struggled to make a lasting impact, the greatest praise that the Talmud offers to any woman is the praise that is given to the wife who fulfills the wishes of her husband.

  “That’s all?” Harry asked, falling into the trap. “There is such a long list of obligations that a husband has to his wife, and there’s just this one small obligation of the wife to the husband!”

  “It is not a small obligation,” my father replied with great intensity. “It just sounds small. It means that a wife must be so attentive to her husband’s wishes that she can fulfill them without being asked. She must be able to anticipate his needs and respond to them.”

  “But how can that be in a new marriage like Ruthie and me? She doesn’t know me well enough yet to anticipate my needs,” Harry asked.

  “Yes, you’re right,” my father replied. “That doesn’t happen right away. So, in the beginning, it is the obligation of the husband to tell the wife about his concerns, and it is the obligation of the wife to not only accommodate those wishes, but to listen very carefully so that she understands what emotions are behind the concerns. After a while, after they know each other, she will be able to anticipate his needs, and he will feel safe enough to tell her about his hopes and fears.”

  “But a new husband and wife like us don’t really have a clear sense of what we each should do,” Harry challenged.

  “Yes, that’s a very good point, and the Talmud deals with that very clearly. The Talmud says that it is good for a wife to express her own opinions, even if these differ with her husband’s as long as she does it in a private and sympathetic way. And it is also the obligation of the husband to always be sensitive to the wife’s desires. But there is one clearly-stated, public obligation that applies specifically to the wife: a wife is expected to be modest, even if the only other person present with her is her husband.”

  “Modest?”

  “Yes, in her clothing, and in her gestures, and in her demeanor. She shouldn’t be brash and noisy and draw attention to herself. And she should wear properly modest clothing.”

  The discussion had taken a different route and this confused Harry. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “A wife should choose clothing that is modest, and not sexy. Sex is private, and should be restricted to the bedroom. In public, a married woman should make it clear, through her dress and behavior, that she has reserved her beauty exclusively for her husband. If you look around today, you’ll see that all of the women are wearing such revealing clothing—even the married ones. They think that it looks good, but it is not proper—too sexual. They should cover themselves more, especially the married ones. After all, God dwells in every family’s home, and it is an affront to God to dress seductively.”

  “But being in style is very important to Ruthie.”

  “Yes. That is exactly my point. A husband, especially a new one, must exert his influence to help his wife achieve the high moral status of a married Jewish woman.”

  My father told me these things at night, every night, while we were having our dinner at his bedside together. I listened, but I rarely commented. It all seemed so innocuous. I didn’t, for a moment, believe that Harry would take it so seriously.

  But he did.

  Chapter 18

  Harry was now spending most of his evenings learning practical religious practices with the Rabbi of our synagogue, and, although I wasn’t aware of it at the time, he was also spending most of his lunch hours discussing Jewish marital laws with my grandfather. Although the meetings that he had with my grandfather had the greatest impact on him, he was not able to tell me about them for fear of revealing my grandfather’s secret, so he attributed a lot of what my grandfather had said to the Rabbi.

  I adjusted our household schedule to enable Harry to do his nightly studying with the Rabbi. I believed that, as Harry had promised my father, he was learning as much as he could about Orthodox Judaism, and that he was preparing himself for a life as an Orthodox Jewish husband. I was glad that he would be moving into my world and that our two halves would become a whole, as my grandfather had instructed me.

  I had decided that, as soon as I passed my twenty-first birthday, Harry and I would revisit Harry’s parents and confront them with the nearly accomplished fact of our wedding. I was certain that, faced with the possible loss of their son, they would, however reluctantly, grant their permission. Getting my father’s blessing remained the only hurdle, but I was increasingly certain that Harry would pass the test.

  In an effort to establish the sort of marital relationship that my grandfather had described, we made a special effort to share all of our day to day experiences with each other. Of course, Harry could not discuss the lunch meetings with my grandfather, but every night he would tell me about his work day and he would dwell on his petty successes and failures, and I would do the same. We fell into another comfortable routine: every evening, before we ate dinner, we would sit in our little living room and discuss our day. For the most part, it was mundane and boring, but we made an effort to make it interesting.

  The discussion that Harry had had with my grandfather regarding my behavior and my clothing weighed heavily on his mind, and he hoped to find a way to introduce it without revealing its source. He must have been so insecure in his new Orthodox Jewish skin that he had fully accepted the nonsense that my grandfather had fed him, and now he was about to impose it on me.

  I wanted this marriage to happen. We were a good match, I reasoned. We could talk, or we could sit silently together reading a book, and either way, it was good. And Harry liked it too, I was sure of that. But yet, I felt that Harry was withholding some sort of information. That he wasn’t being completely honest with me. That there was a hidden part of him that I just didn’t know about. There was something, I was sure, standing between us. Some secret, and my anxiety was growing and becoming more compelling. But Harry wouldn’t—couldn’t—tell me what it was or what its source was.

  Harry, as a result of my grandfather’s malicious intrusion, tried to steer the conversation in a direction that would make it possible for him to talk about feminine modesty, which was at the core of much of what he and my grandfather had lately been discussing. The unusual emphasis that my grandfather had placed on the matter weighed heavily on his mind because it was apparently an extremely significant issue.
r />   He was unsure how to introduce the subject, and he was grateful when I inadvertently helped him by describing one of the girls in my class who wore her skirt very short and rolled her stockings down below her knees. I said that this girl kept crossing and uncrossing her legs and that the teacher, a young man, couldn’t help seeing her bare legs. I told him that I was both jealous and offended.

  “Isn’t there any sort of dress code in school?” Harry asked.

  “Nope, none at all. Most girls dress a little bit sexy, but they still manage to stay a little bit pure. But this girl—there’s nothing pure about her.”

  “Is she married?”

  “I don’t think so, but that’s not the problem. The problem is that because her outfits are so sexy, it makes the rest of us look like dowdy old ladies. I keep looking in my closet to find something that will compete with her.”

  “Why do you want to compete?” Harry asked. “You’ve already got a guy.”

  “That’s not why. I know I’ve got you. It’s just that I want to look as sexy as that girl.”

  “Sexy?”

  “Maybe that’s not the right word,” I said. “How about stylish?”

  “But you are beautiful without wearing risqué clothing,” Harry protested.

  “Thank you, but I still want to look attractive.”

  “Who do you want to attract?”

  ‘Well, you, I guess.”

  “If you want to attract me, you should dress more modestly.”

  “Modestly? Like what?”

  “Well, maybe a longer skirt and no sleeveless tops.”

  “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

  “Well,” Harry said reluctantly, “I’ve been thinking about how our relationship will be once we get married, and I was thinking that, like most married couples, we should save ourselves for just us, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m not sure I do,” I said with an edge.

  “It’s just that I don’t want to share you with other men.”

  It was an uncomfortable conversation, and, though I agreed to dress more conservatively, I couldn’t quite understand his thinking.

  Attractive has to do with looks. And sexy has to do with, well, sex. I could clearly see the distinction, but apparently Harry could not. For a moment, we were teetering on the brink of our first fight, but then I relented. If it was so important to Harry, it would be OK with me.

  I bought some longer skirts and baggy sweaters and buried the “sexy” clothes in my closet. Winter was coming soon anyway, and it was a natural time to change my wardrobe to a more conservative style.

  __________

  I needed to find out how Harry’s religious training was going. Rose said that I had been too aggressive in dealing with him that afternoon, and now that some time had passed and I had time to cool down and think about it, I had to agree with her. Although I still felt that my sentiments were in the right place, I now realized that I had been too harsh, and I wanted to speak to Harry and try to smooth over some of the damage that I had done. Americans, I was sure, authentic Americans, might have made those same demands, but they would have made them in a more civilized way. I should have found a way to state our differences more sympathetically. Once again, although my intentions had been good, I had failed miserably. The obstacles that I had raised would now only serve to push Ruthie further away from me and deeper into Ben-Zion’s sphere.

  I was now facing a difficult decision. If I admitted my error, I would appear weak and ineffectual in Ruthie’s eyes. If I continued, I would certainly have to face the possibility of losing her to Ben-Zion completely.

  “Why don’t we invite them to our house for a Sunday dinner?” Rose suggested when I told her of my anxiety. “That way, you can talk to Harry about what he is learning, and I can spend some time with Ruthie.”

  “I have an even better idea,” I replied enthusiastically. “How about if we stop by Gold’s Delicatessen and pick up all of Ruthie’s favorite food and bring it to her? That way, we can have lots of time to talk to them and also take a walk around the neighborhood and maybe even see the City College campus. We haven’t been there since she moved in, and it would be nice for us to see how she’s doing. My friends who have kids in out-of-town schools have all been traveling to the schools to see their kids. I know CCNY is not out of town, but still, we should see it.”

  Rose agreed and made arrangements with Ruthie for the following Sunday. “Make sure that Harry is there too,” she said. “Your father wants to talk to him.”

  That Sunday, Rose and I had our driver park the car two blocks from Ruthie’s apartment, as per Ruthie’s instructions, and we carried all the food to her building by hand. Appearances were everything in that neighborhood, and Ruthie didn’t want to encourage gossip. Inside the apartment, in anticipation of the visit, Ruthie and Harry had tried to restore the apartment to Rose’s original layout. They also carefully scoured the apartment to hide all evidence of Harry ever having lived there.

  “Before we eat,” Ruthie said cheerfully after we had arrived, “let’s take a walk on Convent Avenue, and I can show you the neighborhood and also the campus. It’s really impressive.”

  And it was impressive. Ruthie and Rose walked ahead, with Harry and me trailing behind. The brownstone houses with their grand stoops and the apartment houses with their formal gardens were, indeed, impressive, and I made a mental note to find out who the building managers were. As we walked, Harry told me what he was learning. It was substantial, and I was genuinely impressed. I asked a lot of questions and made a lot of comments, and I complimented Harry on his accomplishments. I felt good about our conversation, and, as was my habit, I was eager to bolster my “American” credentials. I waited patiently until Harry finished.

  “You know,” I said when Harry paused, “one of the strengths of Judaism is its ability to adapt to the time and situation. We have a core religious belief, but we can modify it according to the situation. That’s the main difference between my religious beliefs and those of Ruthie’s grandfather. I believe that we are Americans who happen to be of the Jewish faith, whereas he believes that we are Jewish, period. And that being Jewish transcends nationality.”

  “But isn’t being Jewish a way for us to reach out to God?”

  “Yes, in a way that is true, but I believe that each of us must find a way to affirm our Jewishness, and if reaching out to God is the most important value to you, then it is necessary to learn how to do that within the context of the American experience. And if social responsibility is most important, then you have to find a way to do that within the Jewish context. Either way, the important factor is that you need to know the mechanics of Judaism, and it seems to me that you are well on your way. And just between you and me, I think that by our Chanukah deadline, we will see eye-to-eye on the important issues.”

  We had walked through the campus and made a tour of the neighborhood and had returned to Ruthie’s apartment.

  The dinner was sumptuous and, at the end, I was feeling expansive. So, as had been our family’s custom, I told a story.

  “There was a wealthy Jew, who, together with his family, had many possessions. Among them was a big boat—a yacht. This Jew was learning not to be ashamed to live his day-to-day life as a Jew, whether before other Jews or before non-Jews, and he had begun to bring those feelings into action. One day he set out, as he did from time to time, for a few days’ vacation on his yacht, and it came time for prayers. He knew that the Amidah prayer must be recited facing Jerusalem, so he needed to ascertain which direction was east. At home, and when he was in his boat near the shore, he knew which way was east, but now they were far from any visible landmarks, and he needed to know before beginning his prayers which direction east was in order to face Jerusalem. How can one find this out on a yacht? There was only one option, to ask the captain which way was east. And th
at’s what he did. The captain asked, ‘Why is this suddenly important? Are you afraid that I will steer the ship in the wrong direction?’ The ship owner was a proud Jew—and when one acts as a Jew, there is nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, Jewish pride dictates that we not hide our Judaism. So he told the captain the truth: since he has to pray to God, and the prayers ascend through Jerusalem, through the holy temple which stood in Jerusalem, in order for the prayers to be ‘Before God,’ he needed to know which way is east.

  “The captain said, ‘If you, who are so successful in business—successful enough that I am your employee—find it important to think about God so intensely, that even in the middle of the water you turn away from all other matters to ready yourself for prayer, and that you take care to pray specifically facing east, so that the prayer will be proper. If thinking about God is so important to a man like you, I will also start thinking about God!’

  “In truth,” I concluded, “thinking about God is already a prayer! For this Jew it was a simple act—there were no deep intentions, or mystical secrets. He simply acted proudly and properly. Plus, he had involved the non-Jew with the mitzvah of prayer, and since every mitzvah has the quality of leading to another mitzvah, surely this mitzvah had a continued effect on the captain.”

  On the way home, I was feeling very good about the way things had worked out, and I was surprised when Rose leaned forward and slid the partition between the driver and the passengers shut so that the driver couldn’t hear our conversation.

  “He is living there,” she said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw his toothbrush in the medicine cabinet, so I did a little snooping. I found some men’s clothing in the back of Ruthie’s closet, and some men’s underwear under her lingerie.”

  “That doesn’t mean that he’s living there, it only means that he is keeping a change of clothing there.”