go as far as the great Jewish scholar Jacob Neusner and simply say in effect that, ‘Since Jesus disagreed with the Torah, Jesus is therefore wrong.’ As a liberal Jew myself, I think that some of Jesus’ de-emphasis of keeping Sabbath laws, and renewed emphasis on what the Torah meant, were worthwhile.” He stopped for a moment, then added, “However, I still don’t think that what he taught was all that original; the so-called ‘Golden Rule’ was taught by Rabbi Hillel before Jesus taught it, for example.”
“I think Christians believe that Jesus was unique in what he did, rather than just what he said,” Jobran replied.
Abraham turned and looked at Jobran sharply, and said, “One of the things Jesus supposedly did was to say some extremely negative things about the Jewish leaders of his day, calling them ‘hypocrites,’ ‘fools,’ ‘blind guides,’ and more.” Abraham paused, then continued, “Attitudes like that resulted in a lot of the subsequent persecution of Jews by Christians.”
Jobran nodded his head, soberly, “I think the persecution of Jews by Christians in earlier times is one of the blackest marks upon Christendom.”
Abraham looked satisfied, stopped pacing and leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms. “I’m sufficiently aware of modern New Testament studies to know that some of the remarks attributed to Jesus in the New Testament may not have actually been his; parts of the New Testament were clearly written or at least compiled by an editor with strong anti-Jewish biases, I would think. It’s absolutely impossible to believe that that a group of Jews would have said to Pilate, ‘His blood be upon us, and on our children,” (Mt 27:25) for example; that was clearly written by a Christian editor, wanting to blame Jews for the death of Jesus, rather than the Romans—who were actually the ones who crucified him. Nevertheless, that passage was a pretext for Christians throughout history to persecute Jews, since after all it was said that, ‘They—the Jews—killed Christ.’” Abraham finished, and there was silence in the room for a moment.
“Abraham…if I can still call you Abraham?” Jobran began, gingerly.
Abraham rose from leaning on the desk, and gave Jobran’s shoulder a playful pat. “Sorry: Got carried away there, I guess,” and he sat back down at his desk. “So what’s on your mind?”
Jobran began slowly, “My whole justification for going around and visiting representatives of different religious traditions is to find out their personal convictions; their ‘formal’ opinions as a matter of abstract philosophy, I can read and have read in many, many books. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask a more direct, personal question…” and he paused, as if carefully choosing his next words. “I’m asking you now—not as a rabbi, or as a representative of Judaism in general, but simply as a mortal human being—Do you believe in life after death?”
There was a long moment of silence, as Abraham frowned, as if deep in thought.
Jobran said apologetically, “Look, if you think it’s none of my business, or if you don’t want to answer, I’ll naturally understand…”
“No, your question is fine,” Abraham says, waving off Jobran. “It’s my answer that is problematic.” He continued thinking, with Jobran watching him carefully, then finally replied, “I would have to say that quite frankly, I myself have serious doubts about both the notion of the resurrection of the dead, as well as any other conception of life after death.” Immediately, he qualified this statement, adding, “Of course, I’m not dogmatically saying that I don’t believe in any kind of personal survival after death; in fact, I’m very interested in the question. But I guess I would have to say that I’m kind of ‘agnostic’ about the question.”
Jobran looked shocked, and said, “I understand that you said that Jews in general are doubtful about life after death, but yours seems like a surprising position for a ‘man of the cloth’ to take.” With a small laugh, he added, “I thought you were all supposed to be ‘men of great faith.’”
Abraham laughed heartily, then said, “Well, I’m probably not your typical ‘man of the cloth.’” Leaning forward in his chair, he said in a conspiratorial tone, “Actually, I despise most of the perks and privileges that come from being one. Whenever I appear at ecumenical or ‘interfaith’ gatherings with Christian clergy, some of them appear to love wearing their clerical collars, and getting special treatment; in fact, some of my more conservative Jewish counterparts act the same way. But I would personally much rather speak at such events just as an individual, rather than as a ‘representative’ of some belief or tradition or community, which is kind of a heavy burden to bear.” He then shrugged his shoulders, and added, “However, I realize that I am a representative of the Jewish tradition, and that sometimes obligates me to fulfill a particular role within the community.” He thought for another moment, then said, “But I certainly don’t attempt to impose my personal beliefs—or lack thereof—upon my congregation.”
“Do you think that your congregation feels the same way?” Jobran asked. “That is, do you think they have doubts about life after death, too?”
“I think that, like most of the Jewish community, they’re ‘mixed’ on the question,” Abraham said. “For me, I guess the bottom line is that it is a great comfort to some members of the congregation to think that there is life after death. And furthermore, regardless of our personal belief or disbelief in immortality, I think there is a great benefit for the Jewish community to come together and show support for a grieving member of the community.” He thought a while again, then added quietly, “In tragic cases, such as—well, cases like yours—unless I can come up with something that is of more comfort to my congregation than the notion of immortality, I feel that I owe it to them to go along with the ancient traditions; or at least, to refrain from publicly disagreeing with them.”
“But—like me—you don’t really have any solid convictions in the matter,” Jobran summarized.
“No,” said Abraham, quietly.
There was a long moment of silence, although it was not an awkward silence. Abraham asked, “How about you? Does the notion of life after death comfort you, in your situation?”
Now it was Jobran’s time to stand up and wander around. Finally, he said, “Everyone seems to think that it should.” Then he turned toward Abraham in frustration, and said in a strained voice, “But in reality, no—it’s of no help to me whatsover.” With a tremor in his voice, he added, “Nothing has ever been the same, and nothing ever will be the same, unless I can again be reunited with my Sophia.” Jobran continued to pace, more energetically. “Maybe it would be different if I had strong religious convictions, but I don’t; or I didn’t, at the time this all happened. And now, I’ve studied so much that I really don’t know any longer what I believe.”
Abraham said gently, “Suppose…suppose that reunion with her is basically…not possible?” He tried to make his voice sound as comforting as possible, and said, “Even among religious believers in life after death, there are those people who think that marriage ends at death; ’Til death do us part,’ is all that the traditional civil wedding ceremony says.”
Jobran shook his head with a grim finality. “If I believed that, I would go insane.” Looking weary, he sat down again. “No, the only purpose I have in life is to find, and then be united with my Sophia again; take away that one hope, and I would have nothing.”
Abraham said, softly, “I’m certainly not trying to take away anyone’s hope. In fact, although I’m one of the people in the Jewish tradition that is rather skeptical about the possibility of life after death, I must admit that it is a concept that intrigues me, greatly. In fact, I think that one of the reasons your letter so interested me is that I’ve actually done a fair amount of reading—far outside the Jewish tradition, I might add—in other religious and metaphysical literature about different notions of life after death.”
Jobran looked at Abraham with great interest, and asked, “And have you come
to the same feeling of ’impasse’ that I’ve come to?”
Abraham nodded his head, sadly.
“Well, then,” Jobran began, “Are you satisfied with that conclusion?”
Abraham became animated again, and said, “No, I’m not satisfied with that conclusion—not at all.” He stood up, and walked to another wall, on which hung two large frames: One was a map of Israel, and the other was an enlarged photograph of emaciated prisoners sitting on barracks in (presumably) a concentration camp. “And frankly, as a modern Jew, I really think that you’ve got to come to some more definite conclusions than I have been able to about life after death, for two reasons: the State of Israel, and the Holocaust.”
Jobran sat up, attentively. “I’ve read a little bit about the difficulty for Jews in what they call, ‘Faith after the Holocaust’; is that what you mean?”
“That’s part of it,” Abraham said, grimly. “Basically, if there is no life after death, then the Nazis that murdered millions of innocent people simply died, and went out of existence—as did the people they killed.” He turned back to Jobran, and said, “While I’m not advocating the creation of a ‘Hell’ just for the sake of eternally tormenting Nazis—although the idea certainly wouldn’t bother me—I have to admit the notion of something like ‘Heaven’ would make it easier for me to accept the fate of the millions who died; an afterlife in which the injustices of this life were addressed would be a very comforting doctrine. Quite honestly, if all of the innocents who were killed by the Nazis died without hope, and without assurance that their captors would be somehow punished for what they did, it seems to make a mockery of their suffering. Moreover, it makes them seem like fools for not having at least attempted to kill their captors, even if they would themselves have been killed in the process.” He smiled without humor, and said, “‘Never again,’ as the Israelis say. If there is no life after death, then the only rational action you can take in such a situation, in my opinion, would be to take as many of the bastards with you as you can.”
Jobran nodded soberly, then said, “I have to admit that, even assuming the existence of Heaven and Hell, I might be inclined to go in that direction, if I had been in Auschwitz.”
Abraham looked thoughtful, and said, “I think that fundamentally, one must have believed that there is a higher court of justice—that this world is not all that there is—in order to have been able to go faithfully and quietly to their deaths as the extermination camp victims did.” Abraham looked down at his own hands, and said, “One question that I ask myself frequently when I’m having one of my ‘skeptical’ moments is: If I had been there in the camps with them, would I have voiced my skeptical opinions about life after death? And removed the one glimmer of hope that they had left?” He paused and shook his head, then said softly, “And I don’t have a clue as to what my answer to that question is.”
Jobran nodded his head, in deep sympathy. “I know the feeling. Completely apart from the ‘factual’ question that I’m mostly interested in, is the ‘practical’ side of things: namely, What effect does a belief in life after death have on our lives on Earth?” He then smiled wryly, and said, “That question, I’m not even trying to address in my religious explorations.”
Abraham clapped his hands together, and pointed at the map. “I’m getting off track: My second reason why I think that Jews have to come to grips with the notion of life after death is the condition of the state of Israel.” He paused, a troubled look on his face. “There has been so much conflict and strife over there: Almost constant wars, compulsory military service, civilians killed in insane terrorist bombings, and more. Most of these terrorists are Islamic fundamentalists who believe that they are engaged in a Jihad or ‘Holy War’ with Israel, and they believe that they will go immediately to the Islamic Paradise as heroes and martyrs after their suicidal deaths.” Agony in his voice, Abraham asked, “Are the Israelis tragically killed by suicidal terrorists simply gone forever, never to be raised again, without any possibility of recouping any part of what they lost in life? And will their killers go unpunished?” Hoarsely, he added, “If so, is the perpetuation of the State of Israel worth it?”
Jobran was silent, as he thought frantically, then he suggested, “Isn’t the historical preservation of the Jewish people, their religion, and their customs worth it?” With more assurance, he added, “I mean, the preservation of the Jews—the only ancient people to have been preserved continuously from ancient to modern times—is a unique, unexcelled historical event, as was the establishment of the State of Israel in modern times, after so many years living away from the land.”
Abraham looked even more troubled, and said, “Another question that I find myself asking is, if there is no life after death and this life is all that there is, then what purpose and value is there to preserving Jewish customs?” He clasped his hands tightly together and said, “I’m sure that Greek Orthodox people, or Irish Catholics, or Southern Baptists, are strongly attached to their own culture as well—but if these are no more than social customs, are they truly worth preserving? Why should we value the customs of the Jews more than, say, those of the Canaanites?” Abraham commenced pacing again. “Within the Jewish community, we have such a controversy about trying to have our young people ‘stay Jewish.’ But if Jewish customs and laws are no more than transient social conventions—or even worse, are simply a clever way that Moses found of unifying a nomadic tribe of people while wandering around in the desert—then what would be the point of keeping them? If the commandment prohibiting mixing milk and meat is no more than a mere human tradition, then who cares about preserving it? Who cares if our young people remain Jews?” Shrugging his shoulders, he concluded, “Well, I think we care because in the back of the mind of every Jew who is keeping the kosher dietary laws, is the thought that transgressing this commandment would be a violation of God’s law—and God is definitely one who is eternal—and we ourselves hope to participate in his eternity.”
“Wow,” Jobran said. “That’s a very interesting point.”
Abraham continued, “In the final analysis, I think that we Jews all somewhat believe that not only are we keeping the law of God, but that we are in some way responsible to him for keeping this law—and I mean ‘responsible’ not merely in a temporal way, but in terms of some eternal destiny. Although people love to misinterpret our traditional belief that we are a ‘chosen people’—as if this meant that we felt like we were somehow better or more worthy than other people, which it doesn’t—we do feel like the laws and traditions we have been given are essentially a divine gift.” Then, with a sad voice, he added, “If it could be proven absolutely and conclusively that there is no life after death, I would venture to say that the number of Jews who keep Jewish customs would drop off significantly.”
Jobran nodded his head vigorously. “But it’s not just for Jews; suppose you were to ask Christians, ‘If you knew for certain that Jesus did not rise from the dead, and that you weren’t going to spend eternity in heavenly glory, would you still choose to spend your Sunday mornings at Mass? Would you still give tithes and offerings of money to the Church? Would you listen to the Church’s teachings about abortion, contraception, and sexuality?” He looked directly at Abraham and said, “And I think the answer, in large measure, is ‘No.’”
Abraham laughed, and said, “If that happened, then a lot of us religious professionals might have to go out and get a regular job!” And they both laughed heartily, for a long time; weary, yet healing, laughter.
Finally, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, Jobran said, “It feels good to laugh again. For so long after Sophia’s death, I never even cracked a smile; I’d let myself become completely socially isolated.”
“Actually, it’s rather enjoyable to discuss these issues,” Abraham said. “Most of my congregation isn’t concerned with abstract theological matters. Now Jewish issues—such as Israel—they’ll discuss with
you around-the-clock; but theology and Biblical studies don’t interest them.”
Jobran looked across the desk at Abraham with genuine affection. “You know, when I came here, I was basically looking for ‘answers.’ But I think that what I actually found was more of a ‘questioner,’ like myself.”
“Just an ‘earnest seeker after the truth,’ that’s me,” said Abraham, smiling back.
“So I guess that I pack up my bags and continue my ‘Quest’ with the next religion down the road,” Jobran said, rising from his chair.
“Who’s next on your list?” Abraham asked, with genuine interest.
“I’ve got an appointment to talk to a minister that I heard about on TV last week; he seems to view salvation as being very ‘inclusive.’ Then I’m moving on to Islam.”
“Your quest sounds like a fascinating one; I envy you,” Abraham said, extending his hand, which Jobran shook warmly.
Jobran thought for a moment, then asked tentatively, “I don’t suppose that you would like to participate with me in some of my explorations?”
Abraham looked very interested, and said, “You don’t think that having a ‘doubting’ Rabbi with you would slow you down in your quest?”
Jobran shook his head vigorously, and said, “Actually, I think that having a ‘man of the cloth’—however skeptical—along with me would help give me some legitimacy. In the responses I received to some of my early contact letters, I got the impression that representatives of the various religions are somewhat reluctant to discuss their beliefs unreservedly with a ‘lay’ person; I think that your participation would make me appear more intellectually respectable.”
Abraham looked delighted, and said, “Well, to the extent that my responsibilities to my congregation don’t interfere, I would be most interested in joining you in the ‘Quest’!” They shook hands again, sealing the deal.
Jobran’s eyes were bright with excitement as he said, “This will be a new experience, having a ‘fellow traveler’ along with me; it’s been kind of a lonely quest, so far.”
Beyond Heaven and Earth Page 34