The Last Rational Man

by Karlin

out way down in Gehenna, and only gradually, over a year, work their way up to heaven. If the dead guy’s son said kaddish, it helped move Dad up the steps of the stairway to heaven faster, and could save his soul a great deal of suffering.

  So he went to prayers three times a day, and said kaddish. The gabbai in charge of the prayers quickly noticed him, a new mourner showing up at six thirty each morning, and asked him if he’d like to be the shaliach tzibbur- to lead the congregation in the prayers. He refused- he’d never done that before, and thought that the pressure would cause him to stumble on some of the more difficult words. But the gabbai asked again and again. Finally an explanation came forth:

  “The kaddish that the shaliach tzibbur says is the original kaddish, the one that really counts. You’re in the thirty day period since your father died, so you have priority in leading the prayers.”

  So he started leading the prayers, and got in those extra kaddish’s that the leader got to say, the more important ones. He could sense that his father was climbing out of the pit of Hell, and reaching out towards Heaven. In his gut he knew that his father forgave him for the past. This held up for about a week, till disaster struck.

  He’d been vaguely aware that Berel’s mother had passed away. He hardly knew the man, let alone his mother. It had nothing to do with him. Or so he thought. As soon as Berel was done sitting shiva, he showed up in shul- and now he expected to lead the prayers as well. The gabbai started splitting the prayers between them, and Stanley felt a knot tightening in his stomach. His father, his own poor sinful father, would suffer more because Berel wanted to say kaddish for his mother.

  If he closed his eyes, he could see his father on the rungs of a ladder, the flames of Hell licking at his heels, calling out to him, screaming for another kaddish, another one, to save him from the flames.

  He couldn’t sleep. He was suffering almost as much as his father was.

  He started coming early to prayers. If he got there before Berel, he could grab the leader’s spot. The gabbai wouldn’t interfere with an established fact like that. It worked on Monday, and then on Tuesday. Wednesday Berel got up even earlier than he, and grabbed the spot. Thursday he got up even earlier- but Berel anticipated his move. They both ran to the coveted leader’s podium. Berel was fat, a couch potato, and Stanley was sure that he’d pass him, until Berel tripped him. By accident, of course.

  Berel got the kaddish. Stanley got bruised. How could that fat slob get away with such a thing? What was wrong with that gabbai? Berel’s ugly behavior went along with his ugly appearance. Simply a jerk. A fat jerk. Probably had sky high cholesterol, liable to drop dead of a heart attack any day. That would be convenient. If Berel dropped dead…

  A nice dream, but not likely to happen.

  Not likely to happen. By itself. Not that he could do anything to help it along. Not really. Well, he could, maybe.

  Stanley tried to think of other things, but somehow, he kept coming back to it. It could be done. He could help Berel along to the World to Come. Berel was headed there anyhow- it was only a question of accelerating a process that was well under way.

  Not that he would actually do it, but years ago, as a teenager, he had worked in a plating plant. Nickel, chrome- all sorts. Cyanide, huge quantities of it, were used in the baths. He ‘borrowed’ a test tube from the lab, filled it halfway with potassium cyanide, and took it home, thinking it would be a cool thing to impress his friends with.

  He never showed it to his friends. He was afraid. It was probably illegal to have that stuff at home, and it was dangerous. Somebody could get poisoned by accident. He thought of dumping it somehow, but was afraid to do that as well. What if somebody realized that there was cyanide in the sewage? What if it got into the groundwater?

  As a teenager he had an exaggerated idea of how strong the stuff was, but the bottom line was that he had kept that test tube, wrapped in plastic wrap and hidden in his sock drawer, for the past twenty-three years. It had followed him to college, then back home, and finally to his current apartment, biding its time in that ancient test tube.

  So- cyanide. Nobody would suspect that he had access to it. But how to get Berel to taste the stuff? It was notorious for smelling like almonds, not that he recalled such a smell in the plating plant, and someone was bound to notice. Unless…

  Stanley wasn’t really going to do it, but just for kicks, he bought a nice bottle of Amaretto, that almond liquor. Once home, he opened the bottle. Such a sweet fragrance. He could bring the bottle to prayers one morning. It was commonly done- a quick L’Chaim after prayers. Sometimes done on the anniversary of someone’s death. He would reach the end of the first thirty day mourning period, the ‘Shloshim’ soon, and that might provide an excuse. But he didn’t want to hurt anybody else in the congregation. He just wanted to ‘help’ Berel to his final destination.

  The usual procedure was to pour out drinks in disposable shot glasses for everyone. He could ‘fix’ one of the shot glasses, and invite Berel over for a drink. “Let’s let bygones be bygones.” “No point in quarreling over prayers.” Whatever. Hand around his shoulders, beaming, the other men smiling and urging Berel to be a sport. He hands over the magic shot glass- but how can he keep it straight? He can’t very well write “the poison is in this one” on the glass.

  He hit on an idea: sugar frosted glasses. You frost just the rim. It was usually done with mixed drinks, but the guys were not very sophisticated. They’d think it was cool, a nice touch on his part. Nobody would notice if one of the glasses was rimmed a little slanted. It is hard to get these things perfect. Nobody would notice- but he could tell.

  Disposable shot glasses were easy to find. Rimming them was supposed to be easy, and after a few tries, he got some decent looking glasses with sugary rims. He set aside the normal glasses, then mixed a little sugar with his cyanide supply, and rimmed one more glass- but with the rim slanted. Easy to recognize if you know what to look for, but otherwise not likely to be noticed.

  Dosage was a problem. Cyanide was notorious for being fast, and if the dose was too big, Berel would drop before he left the room. Ideally he would be at least partway home before collapsing, but that was hard to pull off. It was even hard to tell how much of the spiked sugar would actually get into Berel.

  Stanley decided not to worry about it. Maybe nothing would happen to Berel, maybe he would be ‘helped’ slowly, maybe quickly. The important thing was that he wouldn’t hurt anybody else, and that he was unlikely to be traced. Anyhow, he wasn’t really going to do this. He would bring the drinks to prayers the next morning, along with the frosted glasses, and would just keep the special one in his pocket. There was no way he would actually do anything to Berel.

  He carefully poured the unused cyanide/sugar mix down the toilet, threw the test tube and contaminated paper towels in the garbage, and threw the garbage into the dumpster down the block. It got emptied early Monday mornings, as regular as a Swiss clock, so by the time prayers were over it would be gone.

  In the end it went smoothly, more smoothly than he had imagined. Berel was only too happy to accept the drink. Apparently wanted to bury the hatchet- though that is not what got buried in the end. He downed the drink in a couple of quick sips, and headed home. Stanley cleaned up his little party, tossed everything in the dumpster near the synagogue, and headed home. He noticed the garbage truck coming to empty that dumpster as well.

  Berel collapsed two blocks away. By the time they got him to the hospital, there was nothing anyone could do. Later Stanley heard that the police had been around, asked some questions about the prayers and the amaretto, and that was that. They didn’t even bother questioning him.

  Tuesday was good. Showed up at the regular time, walked right up to the podium, and led the prayers. The rest of the guys were upset over Berel’s death, and there was some murmuring during prayers, but Stanley was OK. Berel was going to go soon anyhow, and in the meantime he could help his own father work his way up the heavenly ladder. Lif
e and death were good. Berel would have to take care of himself.

  By Thursday things had gotten back to routine. A routine that included Stanley’s monopoly of the coveted position. He’d heard nothing from the police, so it seemed like everything was cool. Amazing how easy it was when you thought it all through, down to the last detail.

  Friday night it was raining, so he walked to a nearby synagogue, rather than hike for twenty minutes in the rain, and show up soaking wet. If it wasn’t for that rain, he would have discovered his fatal error earlier. As it was, he woke up late on the Sabbath, and prayed with Chabad, who always started late.

  On Tuesday morning the bitter truth hit him. As he approached the synagogue door, four young new worshippers entered, all unshaven. Avi, Danny, Sruli and Hezi, Berel’s four sons.

  Whaling Wall

  Why is it called "The Whaling Wall"? Because the whales would gather there to bemoan their fate. Zehavah says that the worshippers would raise their eyes to the whale-angels in the firmament. Hillel says that the Temple Mount was once filled with water, and the whales were hunted there.

  "Because the whales would gather there to bemoan their fate." Thus it was both whaling and wailing. What was their fate, and why did they bemoan it?

  In the beginning, whales were fish like all other fish. They roamed the sea, eating kelp and small creatures. One day the Holy One asked the creatures of the sea if they would like to try living on land. The whales, along with many others, agreed. After many generations and many changes they were prepared for life on land.

  Life on land was difficult. They had been very picky about their seafood, but the food on land was different. Though they now had legs and lungs, they could not get used to landfood. And so many other creatures had joined them on the land that there was fierce competition for food. Some of the other creatures even thought of whales as food!

  The worst was the heat and cold. The sea had always been kind to them in this way, a smooth blanket whose temperature varied only slightly through the seasons. On land, though, you could roast in the sun one day, or freeze the next. And the winds! A blast furnace or a quick freeze.

  The other creatures seemed satisfied with this situation, but the whales were sad, and sang of their despair to each other. In time the Holy One heard their lamentations, and they were allowed once again to live in the sea. But it was too late. They were no longer suited for the sea. Their flippers were just legs with webs, and didn't work as well as the fins their fathers had had. Their lungs were of little use to them, so they had to rise to the surface every few minutes for a breath of air. Calving became an acrobatic exercise, a race in time to get the newborn to the surface before he drowned.

  So the whales continued singing to each other, bemoaning their twice cursed fate. Every year, after the calving was done, they would gather around an underwater mountain peak, and sing their dirges. The Holy One heard their lamentations, but understood that bringing the whales back to land would not make them happy. They would have to continue to live and lament in the sea.

  When the time came to build the holy temple, the Holy One raised the undersea mountain, and gave it to Solomon as a site for the Temple. Thus the prayers of those who stayed on land would join those of those who returned to the sea, and all would know, that although not all prayers were answered, all were heard.

  Though this is whales and wailing, it is not whaling.

  "Zehavah says that the worshippers would raise their eyes to the whale-angels in the firmament." Whale-angels? What do we know of whale-angels?

  From the first Adam we learn of a whale that appears in the firmament, a by-product of the improbability drive. If a rocket engine can produce a whale in the heavens, there can be no doubt that the Holy One can do so.

  Why did He create whale-angels? When He first wanted to create man, He consulted with the angels, and they agreed, so He could say: "let us make Man in our image." Yet when man was completed, some of the angels saw him as a competitor; a competitor that would overcome the angels, for this Man could create, and thus was more in the Holy One's image than they themselves were.

  They wanted to stop Man. They wanted to stop man from creating, for in his creations they would be defeated. When Man first tried to light a fire, they made the tinder damp, so it smoked but would not burn. When Man first tried to make a knife, they hardened the stone under his hand, so it would not chip properly. But Man was obstinate, and perhaps a bit stupid, so he continued in his efforts and made fire, tools and musical instruments.

  When the Holy One realized what the angels had been doing, He decided to punish them. The snake was already slithering on its belly, so the example was set. The only question was what to turn the angels into. He sought the most inconvenient shape for these angels.

  Wasps, bees, birds, cattle, fish and clams were all considered and rejected. What would be the appropriate punishment for those who interfered with His creating creation? This is when Adam first dreamed of a whale in the heavens. What could be more fitting for these destructive angels than punishing them through the little creator's dream?

  And so these angels were turned into the most ungainly shape that ever inhabited the heavens. They must sing His praises, as all angels do. The whales in the sea echo their song. Since all punishments should match the crime, the whales have an extra burden. When men pray in groups, the prayer reached the Holy One directly. But the prayers of individual men are channeled to the Holy One through these angels.

  Already in the time of Adam, praying was known as "whaling". Noah whaled when he left the ark, and Abraham whaled when he was asked to sacrifice his son. Solomon included a brass sea in his Temple, a symbol of the whaling prayers that took place there. And to this day individuals whale at this holy site.

  Hillel says that the Temple Mount was once filled with water, and the whales were hunted there. How can this be?

  Solomon wooed the Queen of Sheba, and sent his ships throughout the world seeking gold, jewels, monkeys and other wonders of nature. When the time came to build the Temple, he sought the most magnificent, the most unusual for the House.

  He consulted with his brother Hiram of Tyre. The engineers presented him with plans, plans for the largest, greatest House of God ever built. Largest, greatest, but not unusual, not special.

  So there was an altar. A big altar. So what? Every temple had an altar. Bronze columns? Impressive, but basically me-too. And the bronze basin? Just a copy of Hiram's showy place. The bottom line was that he'd end up with a bigger version of Baal's temple. He needed something different, something unique. The Phoenician designers were good. They had generations of building tradition behind them- and that was exactly the problem.

  There were no designers worthy of the name in Israel. Even if he came up with an idea, there was no one to prepare the blueprints, no one to plan the design. He had no choice but to continue with what amounted to a Phoenician temple.

  One day, at the height of the construction, the king went to Atlit-on-the-sea. He went for the quiet, far away from Jerusalem, which had turned into one big construction site. And he went for the food, to the best fish restaurant in the country. It took a day and a half to travel to Atlit, but it was worth it.

  While Solomon was shoveling mullet down his gullet, Ben-Ezra the Fisherman came to fill their glasses, and asked if there was anything else he, or perhaps one of the young ladies, would like. Sol had just been feeding Wisdom a crunchy salty chip when the Fisherman arrived at the table, so he was in a philosophical mood. Though it was nice watching Wisdom's fine neck as she reached out to nibble another chip from his fingers. No reason to not enjoy life while you were being philosophical.

  Anything else that he needed? Besides the fine food and the fine company? Yes, just one thing. One idea. One thing that would turn that Lebanese monstrosity into the talk of the world. Mind you, it was already under construction, so it would have to be pretty simple, like painting it blue or something.

  Ben-Ezra was sh
ocked. He was thinking in terms of sea bass, not imperial temples. He continued filling the glasses, mumbling meaningless sounds, trying to avoid looking too closely at Wisdom's fine gullet. Only too late he realized that, nervous as he was, he had been filling Solomon's plate instead of his wineglass.

  Solomon wasn't a cruel man. Though there was that bit where he settled some of David's old accounts. And there was that bit with splitting the child, and…better not to think about it. Ben-Ezra hoped that only the plate had gotten wet, and that there wasn't a puddle collecting on the floor under his robes.

  Solomon followed the Fisherman's shocked eyes, and saw his plate full of wine. He dipped a finger in the wine, and let Wisdom lick it off.

  "See, the Fisherman does have a good idea."

  "Maybe he does?"

  "Maybe?"

  "I mean beyond the wine. He has given you the answer."

  "How? He just spilled some wine is all."

  "He filled your plate, your normally dry plate, with wine. Do the same with your Temple. Flood it."

  She wasn't called Wisdom for nothing.

  So Solomon flooded the temple. The altar and lamp sailed on small barges, while the brass basin, now a boat, floated through the courtyard. The bulls and rams could no longer be brought as daily sacrifices. Instead, once a year, a leviathan was brought to the Sea of Solomon (as the Temple courtyard came to be known), and it was hunted by priests standing in the brass basin. The blubber supplied oil for the lamps, and the flesh burned for many days on the altar.

  All of this left the world when, because of our sins, Nebuchadnezzar captured the city, drained the Temple, and sent Judea to exile. The second temple never reached the wet heights of the first. As it is written: He who has not seen the whaling in the first temple, has not seen true fishing in his life.

  Karlin says that all of these opinions are agreed. The whales bemoaned their fate when the Temple was underwater. In the time of Solomon the whale was hunted, and today men ask the whale-angels to intervene for them in heaven.

  In the time of redemption the leviathan's flesh will be shared with all. Men from all nations will gather to the feast, and Bob Marley will conduct as the Whalers, whale-angels and the whales in the sea join in a song of praise.

  ###

  Excerpt from Role Playing

  The old guy held out his cane. It was a wooden cane. The top of it was curved, but ribbed, like the horn of some animal. There were also some odd carvings on it, four characters that looked vaguely like Chinese pictograms. The overall impression was one of an “antique” cane you could pick up at one