FICTION m°11.111"mimm""

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WEDNESDAY THROUGH SUNDAY

Mm 2 - 6

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MPA L L
FAST, FABULOUS, FASHIONABLE.

HUDSON'S • JCPENNEY • KOHJ]S • MONTGOMERY WARD • SEARS

Telegraph and Elizabeth Lake Rd, Waterford Twp.. MI Hours: Monday - Saturday 10:00 a.m. to 9:00 pm. Sunday Noon to 5:00 p.m.

(Check department stores forspecial haws.)

■ •• ■ 111•11111111MIN

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30400 Telegraph Rd.,
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Birmingham 642 5575

E.xercis e
regularly.

-

Fine Jewelers

1111

EST. 1919

1111111MW

44

FRIDAY, APRIL 27, 1990

Hours:
DAILY 10-5:30
THURS. 10-7
SAT. 10-3

WE RE FIGHTING FOR
YOUR LIFE

American Heart U
Association ‘r ,

Moshe

Continued from preceding page

ed diatribes. And truly, they
were passionate. Although
becoming a proficient scholar,
Moshe relied on pure faith to-
justify his beliefs. He quoted
others when convenient, but
his arguments, unlike his ex-
planations, were never
analytical. He embraced God
first in his heart. He was
clear that obedience to the
laws was the means, not the
ends. Strict adherence to
Jewish law, which manifested
itself so awkwardly in the
secular world, constituted the
discipline needed to divert
Moshe from distractions and
temptation. After his visit, I
realized that the obligations
of being Jewish, which had
always kept me from doing
things I liked, actually freed
Moshe to pursue that which
he loved: learning and God.

ama died unexpect-
edly a year later. My
immediate family
gathered more quickly than
any of us thought possible. In
the few days before her burial,
the funeral details were
quickly dispatched, despite
constant protestations from
Moshe. He was genuinely
upset that non-Jewish hands
had prepared her corpse; he
was concerned about the
ceremony itself — would it
contain even the basic
elements necessary for a pro-
per burial? The compromises
were harder to come by this
time. Would there be a
mourner compensated to say
Kaddish each week for the
entire year to honor Mama's
memory in the traditional
way? Mom and Dad were not
going to pay that cost, much
to Moshe's anguish. Jewish
law prevented him from caus-
ing trauma to the bereaved, of
which he was one, but he
swore that, somehow, he
would see that that essential
rite was performed. Mean-
while, Moshe made frantic
calls to the rabbis back in the
yeshiva to confirm the pro-
priety of certain details and
the appropriateness of certain
prayers. Were the com-
promises that had to be
negotiated acceptable?
The activity of planning the
funeral distracted us from its
significance. It was not until
we actually arrived that the
immediacy of the event began
to dawn on me. The event had
brought extended family
together for the first time
since my youngest brother's
— now 23 years old — bar
mitzvah. Tear-stained faces of
people I didn't remember or
had never met passed in front
of me. I was so detached from
the scene that I was initially
confused about their crying.
The family rabbi, whom I

hadn't seen for years, arrived
to conduct the ceremony. I
was pleased to see him, but he
greeted me so sympathetical-
ly, solemnly expressing his
regrets, that I merely thank-
ed him and tried to appear
stolid. The rabbi conferred
with my mom and her sister
first, then approached Moshe
and asked what could be done
to make the service fulfilling
to him These discussions
resulted in my mom giving a
talk, which she had prepared,
followed by one of the grand-
daughters, Moshe's twin, and
then Moshe.
My mother had prepared a
good speech. She interrupted
herself a couple of times with
tears, but it was not a sad
eulogy. My grandmother had
been a very lively woman and
it was that aspect my mother
tried to capture. She remind-
ed us of anecdotes that made
us smile.
The next two speakers had
prepared optimistic speeches
as well. My cousin spoke of
remembrances she had as a
granddaughter and a mother
of two. She expressed regret
about her children not having
had more prolonged relation-
ships with their great-grand-
mother. My older brother
spoke of my grandmother's
death as a peaceful passage
and expressed his belief in
her spirit becoming part of a
universal consciousness.
Then Moshe walked to the
front. He gripped the podium

His presence was
like a vortex of
wisdom and love
gathered from
centuries of
persecution and
covenant.

and rocked back on his heels,
bowing his covered head deep-
ly. When he rolled forward
again, his body was erect and
his eyes were closed. I notic-
ed as if seeing him for the
first time his full red-brown
beard and long, coiled pais.
His face was intent as he
sought a power we could not
see. He began a davening mo-
tion that, like a metronome,
measured the cadence of his
words.
He had no paper before him,
yet it was clear that he had
prepared for this occasion
during every moment of his
waking life for the past five
years. His presence was like
a vortex of wisdom and love
gathered from centuries of
persecution and covenant.
His words were simple. They
worked in circles, calming
and strengthening. He