rotten. My daughters all married strange men. And for what reason did these terrible husbands take my daughters and move away from the neighborhood?”
"They must have had some reason."
"What can you get in another neighborhood? You get assimilated, that's all. And they're doing it, one by one. Pretty soon, there'll be no real Jews left at all."
Now Rivkah wants to get up, cross the street and travel far away. Up on the subway straight down to the beach, to Coney Island, where the ocean is beautiful, and the waves beat wildly on the shore. But girls in Borough Park do not go alone to Coney Island. They don't wear short skirts there, or run into the ocean.
"Assimilation. That's how it starts, little by little," Devorah doesn't even realize that Rivkah barely listens. "First one family moves away and then another. Bonds loosen. Ties shake. Soon the Jewish people are lost completely. It was better for us in Europe."
"How can you say that?"
"Better we die there in the ovens, Rivkah, then lose our soul here."
Now there is silence. That's all. And the silence that rises between them contains far more than words.
"You hear everything and say nothing," Devorah breaks it finally. "Somewhere we went wrong. All together. No wonder God hates us all."
As if pushed by a strong wind, Rivkah lurches away from her grandmother. "It's enough, grandma. You're going too far. God doesn't hate us."
"How do you know?" The two of them face off at each other.
"I feel it."
"And what good are feelings? Feelings are lies."
Rivkah is silenced. Maybe her grandmother is right? Maybe feelings are lies causing us to falter and fall?
"We have to pray harder, Rivkah", her grandmother intones.
"And what if we don't? What will happen then?" Rivkah tries to move a little, but her legs feel wobbly. Like there's nothing beneath them to stand on at all.
Her grandmother's swift eyes take it all in sharply. "Your legs are shaking now. Good. Let them shake! It's better for your legs to shake than to think that you can trust your feelings. God gave us the Torah over our feelings. Shake. Shake. It's good to shake."
With all of her will Rivkah stops the shaking. Then she tosses her head roughly back, takes her hair and throws it freely over her shoulders as if it were a mane. For a moment she feels wild and beautiful.
The old lady looks at her oddly then. "You want to run away from me. I feel it."
Rivkah's mind suddenly feels sharp and clear. It even has a strange vibrancy about it. She opens her mouth and strange words come out. "My life is my life grandma!"
"What?"
Rivkah feels the chill that passes through Devorah. "Your life belongs to God, that's who!" says Devorah.
"Leave me alone."
"I'll never leave you alone. You think you're finished with me, just like that?" Devorah won't have it. "No. There's still plenty God wants me to teach you too. But you'd rather go running to the men!"
"What?"
"You can’t stand being with the women.”
And in a horrible, flashing moment Rivkah realizes that is true. She can't bear her grandmother. She longs for her grandpa and her beloved Reb Bershky who are both completely gone from her now.
Devorah tilts her head back and sneers a little. "You know what they say about women like that?"
"Stop, please."
"Terrible things. They are cursed!"
"Don't talk like that, grandma."
"And since you were little what did you do? Go running to men."
"Not to men. To Uncle Reb Bershky."
"Rivkah, I see it in you. You like the men!"
Rivkah tosses her hair back into the wind that is playing with it. And what if I do, she dares to wonder?
But the weight of Devorah's condemnation rests upon her heart like a heavy cloud.
"Jewish girls don't like the men! They don't go running after them!"
"When did you last see me running?"
"Because you can't anymore! You're not allowed. Whether or not you like
"They must have had some reason."
"What can you get in another neighborhood? You get assimilated, that's all. And they're doing it, one by one. Pretty soon, there'll be no real Jews left at all."
Now Rivkah wants to get up, cross the street and travel far away. Up on the subway straight down to the beach, to Coney Island, where the ocean is beautiful, and the waves beat wildly on the shore. But girls in Borough Park do not go alone to Coney Island. They don't wear short skirts there, or run into the ocean.
"Assimilation. That's how it starts, little by little," Devorah doesn't even realize that Rivkah barely listens. "First one family moves away and then another. Bonds loosen. Ties shake. Soon the Jewish people are lost completely. It was better for us in Europe."
"How can you say that?"
"Better we die there in the ovens, Rivkah, then lose our soul here."
Now there is silence. That's all. And the silence that rises between them contains far more than words.
"You hear everything and say nothing," Devorah breaks it finally. "Somewhere we went wrong. All together. No wonder God hates us all."
As if pushed by a strong wind, Rivkah lurches away from her grandmother. "It's enough, grandma. You're going too far. God doesn't hate us."
"How do you know?" The two of them face off at each other.
"I feel it."
"And what good are feelings? Feelings are lies."
Rivkah is silenced. Maybe her grandmother is right? Maybe feelings are lies causing us to falter and fall?
"We have to pray harder, Rivkah", her grandmother intones.
"And what if we don't? What will happen then?" Rivkah tries to move a little, but her legs feel wobbly. Like there's nothing beneath them to stand on at all.
Her grandmother's swift eyes take it all in sharply. "Your legs are shaking now. Good. Let them shake! It's better for your legs to shake than to think that you can trust your feelings. God gave us the Torah over our feelings. Shake. Shake. It's good to shake."
With all of her will Rivkah stops the shaking. Then she tosses her head roughly back, takes her hair and throws it freely over her shoulders as if it were a mane. For a moment she feels wild and beautiful.
The old lady looks at her oddly then. "You want to run away from me. I feel it."
Rivkah's mind suddenly feels sharp and clear. It even has a strange vibrancy about it. She opens her mouth and strange words come out. "My life is my life grandma!"
"What?"
Rivkah feels the chill that passes through Devorah. "Your life belongs to God, that's who!" says Devorah.
"Leave me alone."
"I'll never leave you alone. You think you're finished with me, just like that?" Devorah won't have it. "No. There's still plenty God wants me to teach you too. But you'd rather go running to the men!"
"What?"
"You can’t stand being with the women.”
And in a horrible, flashing moment Rivkah realizes that is true. She can't bear her grandmother. She longs for her grandpa and her beloved Reb Bershky who are both completely gone from her now.
Devorah tilts her head back and sneers a little. "You know what they say about women like that?"
"Stop, please."
"Terrible things. They are cursed!"
"Don't talk like that, grandma."
"And since you were little what did you do? Go running to men."
"Not to men. To Uncle Reb Bershky."
"Rivkah, I see it in you. You like the men!"
Rivkah tosses her hair back into the wind that is playing with it. And what if I do, she dares to wonder?
But the weight of Devorah's condemnation rests upon her heart like a heavy cloud.
"Jewish girls don't like the men! They don't go running after them!"
"When did you last see me running?"
"Because you can't anymore! You're not allowed. Whether or not you like
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