Naked Came the Stranger - By Penelope Ashe Page 0,19
who thought the rabbi was a charlatan (5 per cent), those who thought he was sincere (5 per cent), those who thought Jonah and the Wails were sincere (20 per cent) and the rest who had not yet formed an opinion. In the face of criticism, Rabbi Turnbull stoutly maintained that Judaism was an organic faith which must adapt or die, "I am improvising on the keyboard of faith," he told Gillian, or rather, the microphone. At that moment Gillian decided, if the rabbi planned to champion reform, she would fight the battle of tradition.
Rabbi Turnbull noted that music had been malleable and contemporary in Jewish culture from the time of King David's harp; as evidence he named such composers as Arabanels in Spain and others such as Mendelssohn and Halévy. Gillian countered by observing that no one on the list composed ritual music. Rabbi Turnbull recalled that even the pious Hasidic rabbis had composed a march of welcome when Napoleon entered Galicia.
"Yes," Gillian said, "but surely you will recall that they scrupulously refrained from using that march in their liturgy. And certainly you're not going to compare the Hasids to… Jonah and the Wails?"
The rabbi turned red around the neck but went on ignoring Gillian. He pointed out that, if the tradition were literally adhered to, the great commentaries on the Bible, the Mishnah and Gmorrah, would never have been written, and the Jews would still be mired in pre-Herodian ritual. What were the commentaries, he asked, but a restatement of the Bible in contemporary terms? He likened the Bible to a Rorschach ink blot and the commentaries to the thought associations of generations of rabbis.
"Careful, rabbi," Gillian said.
"And what is the Reform movement," he continued, "but a restatement of Judaism in contemporary terms? And, consequently, in the direct tradition of the great rabbis. Like your own earlier Christian Reformation, it is an attempt to breathe new life into an ancient faith.
And if we are to rephrase the religious idiom, would it not be a breach of faith to stop short at the music?" Gillian had majored in Far-Eastern Religion at Bard College – that was before she left school and lived off-campus with Charlie, a blind jazz pianist – and she was not so easily put off.
William turned away and sighed. He knew what was going to happen. Whenever a male guest showed a flourish of intellectual vigor, Gillian would first attempt to match erudition – this through an instinctive ability to marshal the right quote, cite the differential case and, at times, invent the properly unnerving statistic. And if she didn't win in this manner, she would resort to banter, ruse and twittering. Then, if the guest genuinely knew what he was talking about, Gillian would ever so deftly suggest that he was a wee bit pompous, lacked humor, took himself more seriously than was absolutely warranted. And, in extreme cases, when the guest was preparing to lash back, Gillian would simply cut him down with a fusillade of charm. Which would it be this time?
"But isn't it true," she began the assault, "that medieval rabbis had interpreted the Law within the traditions of ritual – which you are clearly not doing? And isn't that ritual which you are forsaking essential to judaism, not necessarily for its own sake as you imply, but because it reaffirms the holiness of each human act?"
"My dear lady…."
"Just let me finish, rabbi," she interrupted him. "As for the analogy between Jewish and Christian reformations, I'm more than a little surprised that you would overlook such a basic matter as intent. The original spirit of the Protestant Reformation was to purify, to return to the past, whereas the Jewish Reform sought to streamline and move toward the future. And finally, it will seem strange to some of our listeners that a man of God would allow what is most crude and frivolous in our society into the sacred halls of a temple – not as penitents, but as preachers."
"Is there a question in all that?" For the first time Rabbi Turnbull took note of the opposition.
"Take your choice," Gillian said.
"It was Rabbi Meir," Turnbull said, "who was once asked why he remained friends with an outcast. His reply should serve me as well: 'I found a pomegranate; I ate its contents and threw away its husk.' "
William was getting nervous. Not only did he question the relevance of pomegranates, he could almost hear the radios being turned off. (That talky kike is