The World Outside (13 page)

The next day after school, I went upstairs to my room to change out of my uniform as usual. Both
The Chosen
and
Jane Eyre
were lying on top of my bed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mama asked from the doorway.

I could hardly speak over the thumping of my heart. “Reading,” I finally managed to answer.

She came into the room.

“Reading trash that you need to hide away in your drawer?”

“You searched through my things!” I cried. “That’s not right!”

“It’s my job to know what you’re up to,” she said calmly. “And I’m quite sure you know that the library is off limits for us.”

“I wanted to go.” My mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. “And the librarian recommended these books. There’s nothing wrong with them. If you forbid me to read them, I’ll just take them out another time.”

I couldn’t believe I was actually talking back to her! It was as if I were standing outside of my body, listening to myself yell at my mother.

She stared at me fiercely, but I thought I saw her face soften for a second.

I was mistaken.

“The Rebbe doesn’t want us to waste our time on secular garbage,” she said, her anger barely contained.

I held up
The Chosen
. “This isn’t garbage. It’s a wonderful book. It tells the story of two Jewish boys who become close friends. One of them is even Hasidic. What’s wrong with reading about that?”

“You will take these books back to the library tomorrow,” she said firmly.

“I will not!”

“You’ll do as you are told.”

The door slammed shut behind her.

I grabbed the books and stuffed them into my schoolbag. I knew that she never looked in there. From that day on, I always carried my library books with me, taking out a new one every couple of weeks. Mama never seemed to notice. Or, at least, she never asked me about them again.

CHAPTER 13

O
n Sunday morning, Devorah Leah and I set out to see the Rebbe. An amazing sight greeted us when we arrived at 770 Eastern Parkway. Thousands and thousands of people were lined up along the street, with men and women in separate lines. There were older people with walkers, mothers and fathers courting middle age, and young parents pushing their children in strollers. I waved to a group of my classmates, all of them waiting patiently. The laughter of young children playing tag along the edge of the crowd filled the air.

Most of the people were Hasidim in traditional garb, but there were also young women in miniskirts and young men in T-shirts and jeans. Some of the men didn’t even have their heads covered. We passed two men dressed in the uniform of Con Ed, the company that provided gas and electricity to Crown Heights. One of them had a large silver cross gleaming at his
throat. In his arms, he was holding a baby wrapped in a blue blanket.

Excited chatter engulfed us and a feeling of anticipation was palpable. We felt as if we were joining a party.

“Everybody seems so happy,” Devorah Leah said as we made our way to the back of the line.

The two women in front of us must have overheard her and turned around.

“It’s like this every Sunday here,” said the younger one. “Everybody is full of joy in anticipation of seeing the Rebbe very soon.” She smiled. “I’m Mrs. Yaffa Ginsberg.” She nodded toward the older woman next to her. “This is my mother, Mrs. Stein.”

“I’m Chanie and this is Devorah Leah.”

“Do you girls come for Sunday dollars often?” Mrs. Ginsberg asked.

“I should,” I admitted, “but I’ve been coming only once a year with my class from Bais Rivkah.”

“The same for me,” Devorah Leah said. “This is the first time we’ve come on our own.”

We shuffled forward a couple of steps.

“It’ll take us a long time to get to the Rebbe,” Devorah Leah said.

Mrs. Stein cast a practiced eye over the long line. “At least four to five hours,” she said. “But don’t worry. Time will pass quickly. And while you’re waiting, you can prepare yourselves for what you want to say to the Rebbe.”

Mrs. Ginsberg laughed. “Mother knows what she’s talking about. She comes to Sunday dollars at least once a month.”

“I wouldn’t miss seeing the Rebbe for anything,” said the older woman. “He does so many wonderful things. That’s why thousands of people line up like this every Sunday.” She looked up into the sky and clasped her hands in front of her heart. “Did you see someone in a Con Ed uniform when you passed the men’s line?”

“There are two of them over there,” Devorah Leah said, pointing. “One of them was carrying a baby.”

“I heard a wonderful story about the man with the child,” Mrs. Stein said. “There was a problem with the boiler in 770, and the gas company sent this man to fix it. He isn’t a Jewish man.”

“We know. He was wearing a cross.”

“After he did his job, the Con Ed man was walking along one of the corridors and happened to run into the Rebbe. They started talking, and eventually the Con Ed man poured his heart out to the Rebbe. He told him how sad he was that he didn’t have children. The Rebbe advised him not to worry. ‘Blessing and success,’ he said. ‘You will have a long and fruitful life.’ This happened ten months ago. The little baby in the Con Ed man’s arms is his newborn son. He’s bringing him to the Rebbe to get a blessing for him.”

“What a wonderful story!” Devorah Leah cried.

A shabbily dressed woman standing a few spots up the line turned around. “It’s all true,” she said. “I heard the same story.”

“So did I,” said her companion, a young woman pushing a baby in a stroller.

“The Rebbe does things we cannot even dream of,” Mrs. Stein said.

We smiled at her, not knowing quite how to reply.

The line moved at a snail’s pace. After four hours, we were finally close enough to see the people who were coming out of 770. All of them were clutching the dollar bills Rabbi Schneerson had given them. The Rebbe wanted us to give these dollars to charity, but most people put them away for safekeeping. Some even framed them, then donated their own money to charity instead.

Many of the women who had already seen the Rebbe were crying. Several of the men were also wiping their eyes. Two young Hasidim were jumping up and down with joy, their tzitzits flying, waving their dollars in the air. Other people simply stared ahead, a faraway look in their eyes.

A smiling but official-looking woman approached the two Lubavitchers in front of Mrs. Ginsberg and Mrs. Stein. She spoke in a very low tone, so I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I saw the younger woman shake her head. The official left them and moved down the line.

“You’re back, Mrs. Stein,” she said, pumping the old woman’s hand.

“Levia is one of the Rebbe’s helpers,” Mrs. Ginsberg whispered to us.

“How are you doing, Mrs. Stein?” Levia asked.

“Baruch Hashem, I’m still here,” she replied.

Levia patted her arm. “I’m glad to hear that. Let me take you to the front of the line. The Rebbe doesn’t like to see older people or young mothers with babies waiting so long. You’ve waited long enough today.”

Mrs. Stein stood up straighter. “I’m fine, dear. I’ll wait my turn.”

“One of these days, you’ll take me up on my offer.” Levia laughed before moving on.

Finally, we made it inside 770 and I could see him. There he was! Our Rebbe! He was standing beside a table in front of his office. Dressed in black and his posture as straight as that of a much younger man, he was so close that I could almost reach out and touch him. But, of course, I knew better.

“Every Sunday, he stands in the same spot for seven hours or more to give us the opportunity to see him,” Mrs. Ginsberg explained.

The shabbily dressed woman and her companion were now in front of the Rebbe.

“Blessing and success,” he said to them in Hebrew,
handing each woman a dollar from a pile on top of the table.

“Don’t you recognize me, Rabbi Schneerson?” the shabby woman asked. “I used to clean house for you and your wife of blessed memory.”

“Of course I know who you are, Mrs. Goldman,” the Rebbe said. “How are you?”

“I still miss the Rebbetzin so much,” the woman said.

“So do I,” said the Rebbe. He put two more dollar bills into the baby’s stroller. “Double blessings,” he said to them.

It was Mrs. Stein and her daughter’s turn, then Devorah Leah’s. She passed in front of Rabbi Schneerson slowly and accepted her dollar in silence, staring at him in awe.

Then it was my turn. I had rehearsed over and over again what I would say.

“Blessing and success,” the Rebbe said to me.

As his blue eyes met mine, I felt as if he could see straight into my soul. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

“Blessing and success,” he repeated.

I took a deep breath and found my voice. “I was given an audition at Juilliard to study singing,” I whispered. “Hashem blessed me with a beautiful voice. Should I study singing? Should I go to the audition?”

“You shall have a long and happy life,” the Rebbe said. He gave me a dollar.

One of his female helpers pushed gently on my elbow and I left him. The river of people flowing away from him carried me along.

As soon as we exited 770, I began to sob. Devorah Leah was crying too. Finally, she drew the back of her hands over her eyes and collected herself. “So what did the Rebbe say to you?”

“He told me that I’ll have a long and happy life.”

“What does that mean?”

“I wish I knew!” I wailed.

Devorah Leah furrowed her brow and began to gnaw on her nails, a sure sign that she was thinking hard. “He said that you’ll have a long and happy life,” she mused. “But, wait!” She grabbed my arm. “You told me that you’re happiest when you’re singing. So the Rebbe must have been telling you that you should study singing at Juilliard. Wow! He wants you to go there even though boys and girls study together. He definitely wants you to go to the audition!”

“What if he meant that something other than singing will give me a happy life?”

“But you were asking him about Juilliard. So he must have been talking about that.” She stomped her feet. “Honestly, Chanie, you can be so dense sometimes!
He wants you to go to your audition, and he wants you to study singing at Juilliard. Don’t you see that?”

I wanted to believe her so much. “I hope you’re right. But I wish I was as sure as you that that was what he meant.” I held up my dollar. “So what should we do with this money?”

Devorah Leah laughed. “Let’s send it to the Juilliard scholarship fund. The Rebbe would like that.”

CHAPTER 14

O
ur graduation took place in the large auditorium of the Bais Rivkah Elementary School on Lefferts Avenue because the high school gym wasn’t big enough to hold all the graduates and their families. Even so, the auditorium was filled to bursting, with men sitting on one side of the aisle and women on the other. My class marched in, all of us dressed in green robes, with mortarboards on our heads. I wore my Shabbos clothes underneath and tried not to think of the dress with the lace sleeves. I saw Mama, Baba and Esther sitting with the women on the left, and Papa and Avrohom Isaac sitting with the men on the right. Younger single men like Yossi didn’t attend their sisters’ graduation because there were marriageable girls receiving their diplomas. The boys’ absence ensured that modesty was preserved and the Evil Inclination was kept at bay.

About a hundred girls were in my graduating class. We all settled down on rows of chairs in front of the stage, which was occupied by our principal and teachers. Devorah Leah and Faygie were sitting next to me.

“Freedom at last!” Devorah Leah whispered.

“Only until September, when seminary begins,” Faygie said. “Isn’t it wonderful that the three of us will still be together?”

I was relieved when a girl in front turned around to hush us, for it saved me from having to answer her. What would she say if she knew that I had applied to Juilliard? The audition was only five days away—a thought that immediately made me nervous. I decided to put it out of my mind by forcing myself to listen to the principal’s remarks. She admonished us to be good Hasidic daughters, wives and mothers, as did all the speakers who came after her.