suggested.
“I was just thinking about a conversation I had with my father this morning. It was nothing, really. He was complaining, as usual, about how much money he’s been spending on my lessons with the rabbi, that’s all.”
“That’s all?”
“Do you think there’s something to that?”
“What do you think? The thought came into your mind, didn’t it?”
Paul considered Goldman’s point. He wasn’t worried about the Bar Mitzvah per se, he was more than amply prepared for that. Not only had he had the advantage of private tutoring, but he’d also had extra time to prepare. His thirteenth birthday had actually been in the beginning of August and, as with many summer birthdays, his Bar Mitzvah was postponed until September so friends and family who were away for the summer wouldn’t miss it. For him, it really made no difference. He had no friends and couldn’t care less about his family. For his father, who was planning the most lavish bash ever seen this side of Canarsie, it made all the difference in the world.
“So it has something to do with the rabbi?” Paul asked.
“Possibly.” Goldman was noncommittal, not because he didn’t know what was bothering Paul, but because he wanted Paul to uncover these things himself.
“Well, I am afraid that once the Bar Mitzvah’s over, my private study sessions with Rabbi Weissman will also be over.”
“You enjoy studying with him.”
“Yes,” Paul said, then hesitated. “Very much.”
“You stopped yourself for a second, were you thinking of something?”
“I was just thinking about the rabbi.”
“What about him?”
“I don’t know!” Defensive.
“I’m sure you do know.”
“It’s just that… I… like him. Not only the studying, but him .”
Goldman smiled and waited for more.
“The thing that bothers me most,” Paul said, “is that he has invited me to his home for the Sabbath this week.”
“Why should that bother you?”
“You can’t guess?”
Goldman wasn’t stupid. He understood that Alfred and Evelyn wouldn’t take kindly to the idea of their son spending a weekend with a Hasidic family in Crown Heights. “You mean that your parents would object?”
“Exactly,” Paul said. “I don’t even see why they sent me to Hebrew School, or even wanted me to have a Bar Mitzvah in the first place.”
“There are some things that people can’t abandon regardless of how hard they try,” Goldman said.
Paul looked at Goldman, surprised, realizing there was something personal in that last remark. He knew that Goldman was a non-practicing Jew like his parents, for Goldman had revealed as much in previous discussions. Beyond that, he knew nothing about the man. It often made him feel strange discussing his feelings about religion, causing him to wonder what his inquisitor thought of it all. He had actually raised the issue once, but Goldman had retreated to “shrink-talk,” claiming that Paul’s real worry was about how Alfred felt. It had sounded to Paul like a copout then, yet he was certain he would get a similar response now if he pressed. He chose to let it slide.
“I do want to go to the rabbi’s house,” he said.
“Perhaps you can ask the rabbi to speak with your father. He does seem to have a little influence.”
“That’s a good idea, but it doesn’t solve the other problem about what happens with the rabbi once my Bar Mitzvah’s over.”
“Why don’t we tackle one thing at a time.”
The next morning, at exactly seven, the phone rang in the Sims’ home. Evelyn was startled when she picked up the receiver in the bedroom. Still half asleep, she called to Alfred, who was shaving.
He could barely hear her above the noise of the electric razor. “Who?” he called out.
“It’s Rabbi Weissman, on the phone, for you,” she yelled back. Now she was completely awake.
He thought he heard her say, “Robert Waxman,” but he didn’t know any such person. He shut the shaver, stuck his
“I was just thinking about a conversation I had with my father this morning. It was nothing, really. He was complaining, as usual, about how much money he’s been spending on my lessons with the rabbi, that’s all.”
“That’s all?”
“Do you think there’s something to that?”
“What do you think? The thought came into your mind, didn’t it?”
Paul considered Goldman’s point. He wasn’t worried about the Bar Mitzvah per se, he was more than amply prepared for that. Not only had he had the advantage of private tutoring, but he’d also had extra time to prepare. His thirteenth birthday had actually been in the beginning of August and, as with many summer birthdays, his Bar Mitzvah was postponed until September so friends and family who were away for the summer wouldn’t miss it. For him, it really made no difference. He had no friends and couldn’t care less about his family. For his father, who was planning the most lavish bash ever seen this side of Canarsie, it made all the difference in the world.
“So it has something to do with the rabbi?” Paul asked.
“Possibly.” Goldman was noncommittal, not because he didn’t know what was bothering Paul, but because he wanted Paul to uncover these things himself.
“Well, I am afraid that once the Bar Mitzvah’s over, my private study sessions with Rabbi Weissman will also be over.”
“You enjoy studying with him.”
“Yes,” Paul said, then hesitated. “Very much.”
“You stopped yourself for a second, were you thinking of something?”
“I was just thinking about the rabbi.”
“What about him?”
“I don’t know!” Defensive.
“I’m sure you do know.”
“It’s just that… I… like him. Not only the studying, but him .”
Goldman smiled and waited for more.
“The thing that bothers me most,” Paul said, “is that he has invited me to his home for the Sabbath this week.”
“Why should that bother you?”
“You can’t guess?”
Goldman wasn’t stupid. He understood that Alfred and Evelyn wouldn’t take kindly to the idea of their son spending a weekend with a Hasidic family in Crown Heights. “You mean that your parents would object?”
“Exactly,” Paul said. “I don’t even see why they sent me to Hebrew School, or even wanted me to have a Bar Mitzvah in the first place.”
“There are some things that people can’t abandon regardless of how hard they try,” Goldman said.
Paul looked at Goldman, surprised, realizing there was something personal in that last remark. He knew that Goldman was a non-practicing Jew like his parents, for Goldman had revealed as much in previous discussions. Beyond that, he knew nothing about the man. It often made him feel strange discussing his feelings about religion, causing him to wonder what his inquisitor thought of it all. He had actually raised the issue once, but Goldman had retreated to “shrink-talk,” claiming that Paul’s real worry was about how Alfred felt. It had sounded to Paul like a copout then, yet he was certain he would get a similar response now if he pressed. He chose to let it slide.
“I do want to go to the rabbi’s house,” he said.
“Perhaps you can ask the rabbi to speak with your father. He does seem to have a little influence.”
“That’s a good idea, but it doesn’t solve the other problem about what happens with the rabbi once my Bar Mitzvah’s over.”
“Why don’t we tackle one thing at a time.”
The next morning, at exactly seven, the phone rang in the Sims’ home. Evelyn was startled when she picked up the receiver in the bedroom. Still half asleep, she called to Alfred, who was shaving.
He could barely hear her above the noise of the electric razor. “Who?” he called out.
“It’s Rabbi Weissman, on the phone, for you,” she yelled back. Now she was completely awake.
He thought he heard her say, “Robert Waxman,” but he didn’t know any such person. He shut the shaver, stuck his
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