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Authors: Erica Manfred
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enthusiastically. She was always up for an adventure, no matter how bizarre the destination.
Chapter Eight
We arrived for the Hasidic tour promptly at the ungodly hour of 10:30 a.m. At least it was ungodly for me. I was usually barely up by that hour, and certainly was never on the subway to Brooklyn by 9:30. Maybe I could keep waking up later and later until I adjusted to Sheldon’s schedule—once I found out what his schedule actually was. Charlene and Karen came with me for the tour. I’d never been to Crown Heights. It felt like we’d gotten out of the subway from twenty-first-century New York and exited into a time warp—eighteenth-century Europe, but with some visitors from Harlem. Hasidic men, wearing black suits and hats with long beards and side curls, shared the streets with black youth in baggy pants and over-the-ear wool caps. The Hasidic women—in kerchiefs, black stockings and long coats-- were all pushing baby carriages and had three or more kids hanging off them. The stores had Yiddish as well as English signs.
The tour participants consisted of us and a group of very Republican-looking white couples dressed up in their Sunday best, and their excessively neat children, all of whom could have been transported straight from 1958. The three of us stood out like exotic birds in a henhouse. I asked the big blonde woman next to me where they came from. “We’re from Pastor Hagee’s Church in San Antonio, Texas, dear,” she said with a southern drawl, assuming I knew what she was talking about. She stuck her face too close to mine and said loudly, “This tour is just fascinating. We went to Israel last year. We just love Jews.”
“ What?” I was stunned. “Why would you love Jews?”
“ Well, you know the Bible says that the End of Days will come after the Jews return to the Land of Israel. Then there will be a second coming of Christ and we Christian faithful will go up to Heaven during Rapture. The rest of humanity will just go to Hell. We came on this tour to be more Rapture ready.”
I’d heard something about the Rapture but never met anyone who believed in it. “How about the Jews?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
“ Oh, we wouldn’t harm a hair on your dear little heads. All you have to do is convert and you can come up to Heaven with us.”
“ How did you know I was Jewish?”
“ The nose, darlin’.”
For a moment I wondered why I’d never gotten one of those ski jump noses like all the girls I grew up with. Because I liked my nose, that’s why. I thought it was aristocratic.
“ We’re stuck on the tour with a bunch of born-again nutcases,” I whispered to Charlene.
“ I heard that broad. You know George Bush and Sarah Palin believe in the Rapture.”
“ Let’s hope it works. When the Rapture comes they get transported to heaven and we get to stay here with all the liberals, atheists and other apostates.”
I turned towards our tour guide who was lecturing about the history of the Chabad movement. “Most people assume Hasidim are sort of like the Amish—but Jewish,” he said. “Nothing could be further from the truth. We may have black hats, speak Yiddish and have as many children as God grants, some of us have ten or more, but we also have one of the most popular sites on the Internet.”
“ Why am I not surprised?” I nudged Charlene again. “There’s no way Jews could resist modern technology no matter what kind of clothes they wear.”
Our guide was a little, skinny, very young guy with the requisite beard, except his was short and scraggly. His Yiddish accent was incongruous on such a youngster. In my world only people over eighty had a Yiddish accent. He introduced himself as Rabbi Yisroel, the former rabbi of Woodstock, New York. Like Mormons, the Lubavitchers are missionaries. They set up shop in cities and towns all over the country and try to convert Jews who have strayed from the fold back to their religion.
“ Why
Chapter Eight
We arrived for the Hasidic tour promptly at the ungodly hour of 10:30 a.m. At least it was ungodly for me. I was usually barely up by that hour, and certainly was never on the subway to Brooklyn by 9:30. Maybe I could keep waking up later and later until I adjusted to Sheldon’s schedule—once I found out what his schedule actually was. Charlene and Karen came with me for the tour. I’d never been to Crown Heights. It felt like we’d gotten out of the subway from twenty-first-century New York and exited into a time warp—eighteenth-century Europe, but with some visitors from Harlem. Hasidic men, wearing black suits and hats with long beards and side curls, shared the streets with black youth in baggy pants and over-the-ear wool caps. The Hasidic women—in kerchiefs, black stockings and long coats-- were all pushing baby carriages and had three or more kids hanging off them. The stores had Yiddish as well as English signs.
The tour participants consisted of us and a group of very Republican-looking white couples dressed up in their Sunday best, and their excessively neat children, all of whom could have been transported straight from 1958. The three of us stood out like exotic birds in a henhouse. I asked the big blonde woman next to me where they came from. “We’re from Pastor Hagee’s Church in San Antonio, Texas, dear,” she said with a southern drawl, assuming I knew what she was talking about. She stuck her face too close to mine and said loudly, “This tour is just fascinating. We went to Israel last year. We just love Jews.”
“ What?” I was stunned. “Why would you love Jews?”
“ Well, you know the Bible says that the End of Days will come after the Jews return to the Land of Israel. Then there will be a second coming of Christ and we Christian faithful will go up to Heaven during Rapture. The rest of humanity will just go to Hell. We came on this tour to be more Rapture ready.”
I’d heard something about the Rapture but never met anyone who believed in it. “How about the Jews?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
“ Oh, we wouldn’t harm a hair on your dear little heads. All you have to do is convert and you can come up to Heaven with us.”
“ How did you know I was Jewish?”
“ The nose, darlin’.”
For a moment I wondered why I’d never gotten one of those ski jump noses like all the girls I grew up with. Because I liked my nose, that’s why. I thought it was aristocratic.
“ We’re stuck on the tour with a bunch of born-again nutcases,” I whispered to Charlene.
“ I heard that broad. You know George Bush and Sarah Palin believe in the Rapture.”
“ Let’s hope it works. When the Rapture comes they get transported to heaven and we get to stay here with all the liberals, atheists and other apostates.”
I turned towards our tour guide who was lecturing about the history of the Chabad movement. “Most people assume Hasidim are sort of like the Amish—but Jewish,” he said. “Nothing could be further from the truth. We may have black hats, speak Yiddish and have as many children as God grants, some of us have ten or more, but we also have one of the most popular sites on the Internet.”
“ Why am I not surprised?” I nudged Charlene again. “There’s no way Jews could resist modern technology no matter what kind of clothes they wear.”
Our guide was a little, skinny, very young guy with the requisite beard, except his was short and scraggly. His Yiddish accent was incongruous on such a youngster. In my world only people over eighty had a Yiddish accent. He introduced himself as Rabbi Yisroel, the former rabbi of Woodstock, New York. Like Mormons, the Lubavitchers are missionaries. They set up shop in cities and towns all over the country and try to convert Jews who have strayed from the fold back to their religion.
“ Why
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