Seven Days- Part II
Day Two
Evening had descended on the dilapidated home which at one point belonged to David Kleiner. Now, his brother Joshua would occupy the run-down shack for the next week. It was pretty late in the day and still Rachel, Joshua's ancient mother still had not yet appeared to mourn and sit with him, comforting him for the loss of his brother. As the sun cast a golden glow on the city of Miami, the fox felt an intense urge to go outside, if for no other reason to escape the dull monotony of his dead brother's home. Just when it seemed that Joshua could not handle the boredom for one more minute, he saw a black limousine pull into the driveway which would have stood out in a block this poor.
The old and wizened frame of a fox who Joshua instantly recognized as his dear mother crept weakly out of the vehicle, slowly as molasses and assisted by the chauffeur and a hickory cane. If Aaron had somehow managed to avoid, or at least mitigate the effects of old age, it was obvious that his wife had no such blessing. Instead, she was an old and frail Jewish grandmother who could hardly walk. How was she in any position to handle the mourning process? And what if the whole process of sitting sheva would have to start all over again if she expired by the end of this week? Putting these issues to rest, the fox had already opened the door by the time his mother put her hind paw on the stoop.
"May He who is in all places comfort you among the other mourners," he said with a little more gusto than he had for his father. As he was doing this, he cut a notch in her salmon-pink coat. He knew he would not be chewed out by Rachel, for whom making a single sentence would be a sizable task, especially considering her canid bronchitis but he still wanted to make a better impression than he did with Aaron and not come off as someone who had fallen away from the faith. Slowly, and not without the aid of her son shepherding her by the paw and taking her to the sitting room, the two foxes, mother and son, went.
Her husky voice began but not before she had to clear her throat. "Judaism is not the kindest of religions when someone dies. Open caskets, and after-funeral receptions let the goyim have them. And we have to bury our own dead." She coughed, indicating that for the old vixen whose fur had long since grayed and gone bald in patches, that the preceding speech had sapped a great deal of her strength. Joshua would come to find that out in the days to come.
"I know, Mother. It's hard and I understand you really grew close to David when he was still your newborn cub. And he would always tell you about how he wanted to be a pirate, an astronaut, a cowboy, a samurai, anything they told him at the school. He had an imagination to say the least," Joshua laughed, forgetting for a second that as part of the sitting sheva he was not to have any light feelings during this week.
"You do know those books in Hebrew?" Rachel continued, her voice as melodic as a car accident, on account of the coughing. "He studied the Talmud. That was what he wanted to do his entire life." When she finished, she hacked some phlegm into a handkerchief that she had brought with her for this very purpose. She carried a book, weathered and dusty from her satchel, and upon opening filled with various markings of the Hebrew language. Joshua knew instantly who the author of these strange (at least to him anyway) texts were- these were his brothers' without a doubt. But only his family would be here to read them.
"I took them to the rabbi and he says," a long pause as she coughed again "that there are new things, fascinating things. Things you should read." A note written, probably years ago, announced as follows
‘Thank you, Mr. David Kleiner for your interesting interpretation of the Gemara, as well as the commentary on the Book of Job. Too often the Chosen people get caught up in how we should look at a passage and what specific words were used and we miss our opportunity for "tikkun olam" that is repairing the world. Your recommendation to take a more pragmatic approach is something that is sorely lacking in the world of academia. You never spent a day at a yeshiva and yet there is something new and wonderful in your writings. I look forward to studying this in further detail with you in person.' It was written by one Mordichai Weizmann of Temple Beth Shalom in Miami, a wolf rabbi with whom Joshua though not particularly observant was quite familiar with. To hear that his brother was so wise (at least before the myelin degeneration in his brain) filled Joshua with an unexplained joy that nothing could take away.
"Well, I guess he was always a bit more observant than I was but this truly fascinates me, Mother. I never would have guessed that he of all the species would be considered so wise that a schooled rabbi would-" But Joshua did not know how to finish the sentence. He did not want to insult Mr. Weizmann's knowledge of Torah and Talmud, perfected through decades of scholarship but yet this now-deceased fox, David Kleiner was considered "new and wonderful" by one of such high esteem and knowledge.
"I knew him since you were both young," Rachel weakly stated. "Finances were so tight and I couldn't afford college for everyone. He was the youngest so we neglected him. Shame on me, shame on us all!" In his mind, Joshua could see fruit trees that were given love and attention, producing fruit that everyone loved except for one tree that was never watered even though it more than deserved the treatment and it thusly wilted. And Joshua knew that was David- he was the forgotten last-born one who received only a small portion of the love and the money and the attention and thusly wilted. And those books would have been his scholarship, if only someone had taken attention. The next great scholar of the Talmud would not have come from the shtetls of Poland or the warm palm-lined streets of Israel or the Hasidic dynasties of New York but in Miami, if only someone had sponsored him enough.
"It's not too late, Mother. We can translate these works, get them published and the money whatever we make can build a library in his honor adjacent to the temple. The brightest of the world's Jewry can come here and help this congregation," the fox said, his voice now brimming with enthusiasm trying to make up for the lost opportunity. And yet this opportunity would forever be lost.
"It's too late. Once someone enters She'ol, their works are as naught and their praises to God fall silent." With that, she took up her cane and left slowly to her awaiting car. The old Jewish vixen opened the door on her way out and then shut it- the slamming door sadly appropriate as a symbol for her youngest son's abbreviated life. There were many disappointments in life and David's lack of recognition (at least during his lifetime) would tragically be one of them. And due to a language barrier, Joshua would not be able to enjoy anything his brother's work until the sitting sheva was complete. What could have compelled such a learned rabbi to write such joyful words of just an average unschooled yet highly-observant Jew? The fox would have to wait until later, much later to find out.
Once again, the fox was left alone in his brother's house, looking out the window at the Pacific Ocean just a third of a mile away. If only someone had actually cared...