The Rabbi and Mrs. Goldstein (NOVEL) (E-BOOK)

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Excerpt from CHAPTER ONE

Cape May, New Jersey
Wednesday, April 6, 1870

At the sound of shouting, Miriam Goldstein tensed,
fingered her gold wedding ring, and hurried from her
office to the gift shop at the opposite side of the Cape
May Jewish Culture Center. Rubbing her ring had a
way of calming her whenever she faced a trying
situation.

The center occupied the first floor of a small
building adjacent to the Beth Israel Synagogue and was an outreach of it. In addition to Miriam’s office, it
housed a museum of Jewish culture, three classrooms,
and a gift shop to the right of the main entrance.

Her muscles tensing, she entered the gift shop. Two women from her synagogue wrangled over the
last hand-carved wooden menorah for sale. If Miriam
didn’t intervene immediately, they might come to
blows.

“I saw it first!” Dinah Ho man screamed, holding
on to the menorah for dear life while Leah Feldman
attempted to pull it out of her hands. Their altercation
rattled the shelves, threatening to destabilize the other
items for sale.

“Ladies, please! What’s going on?” Miriam scowled
and planted her feet in front of them. With her days of
child-rearing behind her, she had naively assumed she
had finished with disciplining. Yet even her own children, Rebecca and Asa, had behaved better than this.

Now parents themselves and settled in Cape May, they
had turned out well and had made Miriam a grandmother of five well-behaved grandchildren who
frequently visited her and brought joy to her life.

The two women froze and stared at her. As volunteer director of the center, Miriam insisted on maintaining order. “I will have none of this in our center, do you hear me? This is no way to behave in a public place, especially here where we focus on cultivating respect for the Jews. Do you want to create even more opposition for us Jews than we already have?”

The women grew silent and hung their heads in
shame.

Miriam struggled to contain her anger. “I expect
more from two grown women. And Jewish women at
that. You have disgraced yourselves and our heritage.”
Miriam took in a deep breath and placed her hands on
her hips. “Now, what is the problem?”

Dinah was quick to speak. “I want to purchase this
menorah for my home, but Leah insists she saw it first,
when I actually did.”

Miriam turned to Leah. “Well, did you see it first?”

Leah locked eyes with Miriam. “Yes. I saw it first.
Before Dinah even entered the gift shop. As I was
removing the menorah from the shelf to purchase it,
Dinah came along and wrenched it out of my hand.”

Miriam considered first Dinah and then Leah. “So,
how am I supposed to know which one of you is
telling the truth?”

“I’m telling the truth.” Dinah clutched the menorah even more tightly.

Leah’s gaze riveted on Miriam. “With all due respect, Mrs. Goldstein, I am speaking the truth.”

As Miriam studied the two ladies, Solomon’s
famous story of the two mothers and the baby flooded
her mind “This is what I will do. I will break the
menorah in half and give each of you one half.”

“No!” Leah’s hand flew to her mouth. “It’s too
sacred to destroy. Let Dinah keep it.”

Miriam took the menorah from Dinah’s hands and
gave it to Leah. “It’s yours for one dollar.”

Leah reached into her reticule, withdrew the
required amount, and handed the money to Miriam.
“Thank you.”

Miriam then looked at Dinah. “Until you are ready
to behave like an adult, I must ban you from visiting
the center.”

Dinah’s face turned red. “You have not heard the
end of this, Miriam Goldstein.” With a humph, Dinah
stalked out of the gift shop, slamming the door
behind her.

Leah’s eyes filled with tears. “I am so sorry for the
ugly outburst, Mrs. Goldstein. My husband, Aaron, is
dying, and we want to celebrate what will be his last
Passover next week with a menorah. Aaron has not
been able to work for the last several months, so I have
been saving up to purchase one.” Leah lowered her
head. “I did not mean to cause a scene.”

Miriam’s heart clenched. “I am so sorry to hear about your husband.” She pressed the dollar back into
Leah’s palm. “The menorah is a gift from the center to
your husband. May it be a blessing to him in his final
days.”

Tears rolled down Leah’s cheeks. “Thank you. I’m
sure it will be.” She drew in a deep breath. “You know,
Mrs. Goldstein, my husband’s parents were among the first German-Jewish immigrants to settle in Cape May.
This center means a great deal to him.”

Compassion flooded Miriam’s heart. At the age of
seven, she herself, together with her late parents, had
emigrated from Germany to Philadelphia, along with
hundreds of other German Jews. Later, her family had
moved to Cape May where they had remained ever
since. “Please let me know if I can help in any way.”

Leah clutched the menorah to her chest. “Thank
you. Aaron and I have been married only nine years.”
Her voice caught. “Why would HaShem take him so
soon?” Leah’s eyes pleaded for an answer, but Miriam
had none to give her.

Leah took in a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.” Another tear trickled
down her cheek. “And our children. We have two
young sons. They will be left without a father.” A sob
escaped her lips. “But may the will of HaShem be
done.”

Miriam’s stomach tightened. Was it truly the will
of HaShem that this woman’s husband die so soon,
leaving her alone with two small children? What kind
of deity would do that? Her throat burned. If only she
could offer Leah hope.

But how could she when she herself struggled to find hope? The religion she had thought would bring her life had brought nothing but emptiness and despair. Her Jewish roots had become a chain, tying her to traditions that no longer held meaning for her. Traditions that had no power to bring life.

But had they ever brought her life? If Miriam was
honest, no. Never. They had brought her only
bondage. Only a rigid adherence to a set of rules that
weighed her down rather than lifted her up. Rules that
had become meaningless to her. Empty shells, full of
death and hopelessness.

She dared not speak of this to anyone. Especially
not to her rabbi husband, Jacob. She would be
branded a heretic. A traitor to the Jewish faith.

Yet the questions persisted. For a long time she had
asked them of herself but had found no answers.

Miriam took Leah’s hand. “Yes. May the will of
HaShem be done.” The words rang empty in Miriam’s soul. They were nothing but pious platitudes, meaningless words that seemed more to placate than to comfort.

Her stomach churned as Leah left. So many unanswered questions. Why was it that most people ignored such questions and were happy to rely on blind faith?

Why couldn’t she do the same?

But they were questions that, of late, she could no
longer dismiss. Her faith—if she could call it that—
had become a mere habit Filled with pretense and
pomposity, especially on the part of the rabbis who
claimed to be the leaders of the people.

More than once, she had seen through their hypocrisy. They preached one thing at synagogue yet did another in private. What about the old rabbi she had discovered
eating pork at a restaurant when she was a child?
Her own Jacob—HaShem bless his soul—would preach kindness at synagogue yet berate her and speak harsh words to her at home. He would preach strict observance of the holy day yet carry firewood from the woodpile to the house on a cold, wintry Sabbath.

Something was sorely amiss. And she would make
it her aim to find out.

Pushing aside her disturbing thoughts, Miriam
began to rearrange the gift shop shelf where the
menorah had stood. A layer of dust covered the oaken
shelf. What with doing the bookkeeping and the
purchasing, she had neglected cleaning the gift shop a
bit too long.

She retrieved a dust cloth from the cabinet under
the shelves and gave them a quick wipe. That would
have to do for now. She would add a more thorough
cleaning to her task list. Perhaps she could ask her
assistant, Rachel Cohen, to work an extra morning a
week. A dusty shop did not give a good impression to
the center’s clientèle.

As Miriam dusted, her mind kept drifting back to
Leah Feldman and her dying husband. There must be
something she could do to help. The young wife and
mother had been so distraught over her husband’s
imminent death, only to encounter the additional pain
of Dinah’s cruel behavior toward her here at the
Center. Miriam shook her head. The best help for
Leah would be a miracle.

But only HaShem could give that kind of help. Did not the Tanakh teach that salvation came only from the Lord? If so, why was the Lord not lifting a finger to save this young husband? Some salvation that was.

Miriam shuddered. While Jacob encouraged questions, he frowned greatly on disrespect for HaShem.

She fought to quell her roiling stomach. Henceforth,
she would be more careful.
_____________________________
Excerpt from The Rabbi and Mrs. Goldstein by MaryAnn Diorio
This material is copyrighted.