Fear.

It was the name of the entire minority.

There are Blacks, there are Hispanics, there are “The fearful ones”.

Like the shittiest gang name ever.

They looked around at a country full of Jews, established to protect themselves in an anti-Semitic world, and decided to become a minority in a country of minorities.

The most oppressed amongst the oppressed.

Committed to living in fear, they elevated it to an art form.

In the way the avoided eye contact.

In the way they declared declarations on the black and white posters they pasted to the walls of their neighborhoods.

In the way they lit dumpsters on fire at the first sign of threat.

If it existed, they feared it.

They feared man – who might come to draft them into the military at any moment.

They feared God – who might smite them into eternal damnation for eating a crumb of leavened bread on the wrong day of the year.

Most of all, they feared themselves- weak, unpredictable, fallible as fuck, with perverse sexual thoughts that were just ready to pounce at moment’s notice.

You are proud to be part of the fearful ones, because your parents told you they were proud, “card carrying members”. You too, want to carry a card.

So you wear the uniform with pride – black fedora, black suit and white shirt, worn over the woolen Tzitzit you wear for extra God points.

The perfect Middle Eastern attire – fashionable yet functional. 

But you aren’t very good at it.

It was like other people knew how to do it, while you had read about it in a book. Except there was not even a book on the subject.

Being charedi is like a choreographed dance, like a complex mating ritual minus the mating; but there were no lessons offered and you had missed the rehearsals, so the best you could do is trip over your feet until the klezmer ends.

Everyone knew that Borsalino hats were all the rage and there you were still wearing a Bertolini like some sort of nerd.

Everyone got the memo that square buttons with pink stitching was the coolest shit, but you thought that all style and all color was still banned, like it had been yesterday.

Everyone understood the great insult that Rabbi Koplevitch had committed against Rabbi Eisensthaltz by calling him “Zatzal” instead of “Tazukal” in his Hamodia Op-ed, but you didn’t understand why there was now a need for armed guards around Kopelevitz’s Volvo.

Your entire worth revolved around what institution you were enrolled in. And yet the admissions process was like a ballet of informal avoidance.

You didn’t apply to a school. You hung out around The Rosh Yeshiva’s hovel at 2:33 when he was known to see people for four minutes.

After three days of waiting, you gained an audience with the esteemed 82 year old, and laid your case as to why you were a perfect candidate for his illustrious academy of knowledge.

He has Parkinson’s, so you don’t understand a word he says as he mumbles into his beard, but his second in command conveys to you that no, you haven’t made the cut.

But he says it in Aramaic, so it stings less.

“Mai Hai?”

That’s what the man towering over you wants to know. “Just Mai, in God’s great universe, is Hai?” You’re not sure yourself and therefore you stare blankly back at him.

Then finally, it hits you.

This is his seat. You’re sitting in his fucking seat, and he’s asking you, with grace, tact, and subtlety, what in the hell you are doing that for.

You are doing that for as to have a seat to sit on, because the Mir Yeshiva is notorious for not having any of those. You had thought, wrongly, that since you’ve been sitting here for three months without a hitch, that you finally had it figured out.

However, this has been this man’s seat for 20 years. And as the verse sayeth, “What are three months in thy eyes, God, compared to 20 years?” King David was a wise man. A wise man indeed.

And so, you move on, on an eternal quest to find a place to sit, while wondering Mai, actually, is all of Hai.

Blessed art thou God, who gave the rooster knowledge to differentiate between day and night

Every morning, the wakeup ritual was the same. Someone would drag a boom box into the dormitory hallway, and crank out the same Miami Boys song as loudly as they could. “I am grateful to you, everlasting king, that you have restored my soul with much compassion.”

Every morning, with that musical masterpiece blaring, he’d wake up feeling anything but grateful.

Blessed art thou God, that you did not make me a woman

As far as he was concerned, it was much better to be a woman. Woman were not tempted by things like sex. They were not drawn to watching porn after everyone had gone to bed. They did not even need to study Torah day and night to earn their place in The World To Come. They did not need to wake up early to go and pray before The Time of Shema had passed. All they had to do was keep their elbows covered.

Blessed art thou God, that you did not make me a slave

 The day would start at 7:30 am. If you were traveling from out of the neighborhood, you might have to wake up as early as 6:00 am to make it on time. He was lucky to live across the street, so he could wake up at 7:29. The day would end at 6, or at 9:30, or at 11, depending on the grade. They had one day off a year – Tisha B’av, when Jews are so sad that they can’t partake in joyous Torah learning. Personally, he didn’t find it particularly joyous the rest of the year, either.

Blessed art thou God, that you did not make me a non-Jew

In The World To Come, the most righteous of gentiles will have the merit of being the dust under are feet, taught the rabbis. Each fringe on your tzitzit will have a dozen non jews holding on to it, clamoring to be allowed to serve you. Every time the Filipino house cleaner would clean his room, she’d break his lego sets. He built himself a loft that was only accessible by a climbing rope, but they somehow still managed to mess up his stuff. One non Jewish servant was more than enough.

Blessed art thou God, who places the land above the water

The school bathrooms were typically flooded with about an inch of water. Assumingly it was urine, but it was usually black after mixing with the mud on people’s feet. Every morning the bathrooms would start out clean, and then be restored to their former pigsty glory in short order. He’d hold his breath and try to ignore the floor whenever he needed to pee. Pooping was best held in until he could go home every recess – he probably pooped in those school bathrooms maybe five times in 12 years.

Blessed art thou God, who strengthens the steps of man

He was always running. Running home to take advantage of every precious moment during which he could read books: Arthur Conan Doyle, C. S. Lewis, Mark Twain. National Geographic. They were portals into different worlds and different times. This was where the real education happened. He’d always overstay his recess, and end up running back to school, late as usual. There was someplace he’d rather be.

Blessed art thou God, who gives sight to the blind

Whenever he was goalie and the ball came his way, he would duck. Better to let in a goal then to have your glasses crushed against your face – permanently bent out of shape and leaving a glasses-shaped imprint on your nose and eye socket. Almost everyone in class had glasses. 95% of Orthodox Jewish men wear them, the highest percentage in the world. Every other store in Geula sold them. But somehow, he was even more blind than most.  

Blessed art thou God, who gives strength to the tired

It was like magic. As soon as he’d sit down with his tutors, a wave of exhaustion would wash over him. He could barely keep his eyes open. He’d fight, blinking stupidly, swallowing yawns, doing whatever he could just to stay awake. It was as though he didn’t want to be there. It was as though he didn’t really care what happens when a bull gores a cow who is pregnant and she falls into a pit in the Public Domain. He’d return to his former chipper self as soon as the sessions were over. Maybe that was a clue?

Blessed art thou God, who girds Israel with strength

Yonatan Eitan was not particularly strong, but he’d somehow managed to pin him to the floor. He couldn’t remember how he got there. Chananya Kremer too, enjoyed grabbing him by the hair and dragging him around the school courtyard. If you didn’t see someone beating someone else up during recess, you didn’t live that day to the fullest. Sometimes they’d fight with other schools. Sometimes they’d fight with Arabs. Then Rabbis told them to stop beating up Arabs, so they went back to beating up each other.

Blessed art thou God, who adorns Israel with splendor

From the age of 13, they would wear their Tefillin all day long. They’d study with Tefillin. Pray with Teffillin, beat up Arabs with Tefillin. Even pee with Tefillin on. Your Tefillin are meant to be placed halfway down your bicep, but with a two finger’s space above your elbow. With his tiny arm and adult-sized Tefillin, this requirement defied the laws of physics and left him vexed and paranoid about not fulfilling the obligation properly.

I was young, and I become old, and I never saw a righteous man abandoned, or his children seeking bread

When you have 12 children in two bedroom apartment, the living room serves a dual purpose. They’d have plastic sliding doors that split the room in half, and couches that slid out into triple decker beds. Every Friday he’d go knocking on the neighbor’s doors, collecting funds for the neighborhood charity. There were dozens of families that needed help.

But it was when Passover arrived – the most expensive Jewish holiday – that things were most pronounced. He helped box hundreds of care packages for local families. Great pallets of potatoes would be placed in the streets, and families would come by to haul away sacks by the cartful. All sponsored by generous donors, he was told. Probably rich people from America.

Lord, the soul you have given me is a pure one. You puffed it in me, and you are destined to remove it from me, and to give it back to me in The Future That Will Arrive. And please, don’t bring me to sin or temptation, and force my desires to subjugate to you

If you studied enough, you could avoid death. You’d be righteous, you’d sit with God, and you’d come back during the resurrection of the dead.

But if you didn’t wipe your butt properly, all your study would be worse than naught – it would be a sin.

Play your cards right, and Judaism will allow you to live forever. To worry about your unclean anus for all of eternity.

He was crushing it.