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Israel?”
    â€œI don’t know. Maybe I only want to get away from here.”
    â€œThere are easier ways. We can burn down the house. I’m serious, Dave. I don’t give two damns if you stop being a rabbi.”
    â€œYou never did,” he said with annoyance.
    â€œSo?”
    â€œOh, what the hell! I never could explain it to you. I’ve tried for two years, and that’s long enough.”
    â€œExplain what!”
    â€œCome on, come on,” he said. “We’re building up to a real fight. I don’t want to fight with you.”
    â€œWhy? Because you’re a rabbi?”
    â€œBecause it only hurts. It doesn’t help.”
    â€œMaybe it would help. Maybe it would help if we screamed at each other and let some pus out of the wound. You’re a rabbi. I don’t know what a rabbi is; I only suspect that he’s supposed to reflect some aspect of civilization.” She was shouting now. “Fifty million people are killed in that lousy war — fifty million — six million Jews, one third of the Jews on earth! And now again, more killing, and my husband the rabbi tells me he has to be there! For God’s sake, go.” She stood up and drove a finger at him. “You know something, David Hartman, this thing you and all the rest of the ministers and priests and parsons call God — this thing makes me damned uneasy!”
    David sat, staring in astonishment, as Lucy stormed out of the room.
    He was astonished, put off, hurt, yet absolutely intrigued by her response. He tried to remember her exact words — this thing, all right, God is a thing, this thing makes me nervous — no, damned uneasy was what she had said, and it put him back to when he was digging a hole, he and a G.I. named O’Brien. A spatter of machine gun fire had thrown them together, and when O’Brien yelled, “Dig, goddamnit, dig!” David obeyed without any discussion of rank. They dug insanely, and when they were three feet down, O’Brien said, “We don’t need to go to China, Father.”
    David dropped his trenching tool and wiped his brow. “We don’t call rabbis father. My name is Dave Hartman.”
    â€œLewis O’Brien.”
    â€œCatholic?”
    â€œNot even lapsed, Rabbi. Begging your pardon, I spit when I hear the word. I have resigned. Would you believe it, I was a candidate for the priesthood once? I intended to be the most outstanding, smartass Jesuit the world ever saw, and I even talked myself into the possibility that I would give up women.”
    â€œWhat changed it?” David asked.
    â€œThe war — and contemplation on that peculiar thing that you and the other sky merchants call God.”
    David brooded over the memory, wondering what Lucy’s response would be if he asked her why she thought of God as a thing. Then he went downstairs and asked her, trying to be as soft and appeasing as possible.
    â€œDid I say that?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI don’t know what I meant. You can’t talk about God, David. You know that.”
    â€œBut I do talk about —”
    â€œYou were going to say ‘Him,’ weren’t you? And then you stopped yourself. Why did you stop yourself? Isn’t it him anymore? Then what do I do with that Bible I teach the kids. It doesn’t say he made woman in his own image. Too much confusion of gender.”
    She knew all his weak spots, his confusion and fears. “Why are you doing this, Lucy?” he asked her.
    â€œI’m sorry. Oh, David, I’m sorry as hell. It just put me off and scared the very devil out of me when you started that business about Israel. David, I love you so much and I get so confused.”
    â€œI’m not going to Israel,” he admitted.
    â€œI’m pregnant again. You know that. I mean, if all you wanted in the world was to get over there, you’d need every dollar we have saved up, but if being