L'Chaim Chapter One: The Rest is Commentary
Chapter One: The Rest is Commentary
‘A Man once asked to learn the entire Torah while standing on one foot, to which Rabbi Akiva replied: “Love your fellow man as you love yourself. The rest is commentary, now go study.”’ (par. Jerusalem Talmud 4:9)
Peter was sitting at his desk when Sophie came in. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yep,” he said, still reading the file in front of him. Intrigued, she let the door close behind her and leant over the desk to read upside down. “New kid coming in,” he continued.
“Shaim Mendel?” Sophie asked, unsure of her pronunciation.
“Chaim,” he corrected. “It’s that guttural ‘ch’ sound like in German, with the hard ‘ee’ at the end. Chaim.”
“What kind of name is that?” she asked curiously.
“Hebrew.” When she didn’t comment, he looked up.
“He’s Jewish?” she asked in amazement. He nodded, pointing out the ‘patient’s religion’ line on his hospital records.
“Not only that, he’s Orthodox.” She frowned and looked back down at the chart.
“Oh Peter, we’re not equipped to handle that,” she said, “how will he…”
“I’ve already spoken to his Rabbi about it,” he replied. “We’ll have to make some adjustments, and it’ll be tough for a while, but he really had nowhere else to go.” She nodded and shrugged.
“Horizon is all about tolerance,” she said. He took a deep breath and began to read the file aloud. She crossed her arms and listened.
“Diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder by the local hospital…episodes of severe depression, anxiety, anger, repeated suicide attempts, habitual runaway - he’s even been arrested.”
“For what?”
“Possession.” He watched Sophie’s eyebrows rise a bit.
“He’s all over the map, isn’t he?” she commented, reading a bit more on her own. “It says here he grew up in a stable home environment. No familial traumas, no history of mental illness or abuse. He’s just a normal kid.”
“Who cracked,” Peter added. Sophie shook her head, reading on, and then closing the file and sitting back in her chair.
“So what kind of changes are we looking at?” she asked him, getting back to their earlier topic. Peter shrugged.
“There’s a Rabbi coming up today to evaluate what Chaim needs in place before he arrives.”
“When’s he coming?”
“Thursday.” He frowned, as if just remembering something. “You know, it was an odd conversation, now that I think of it.”
“What?”
“On the phone yesterday with the Rabbi…he kept asking me if I was sure I knew what I was getting into. I wonder what he meant by that…”
The living room was oddly quiet, considering that it was full. On every chair and sofa there was a student doing some form of homework. At least, that’s how it appeared to the teachers.
“Did you hear?” Ezra leaned in to the centre of their table. They were all doing English homework, but a steady stream of chatter had kept them from getting bored with John Knowles. “They’re bringing in a new kid.” Daisy finished what she was writing, but grinned.
“Come to join the rest of the loonies in our little fun house,” she said dramatically. Juliette sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Where did you hear that?” asked Shelby. She was sitting on the couch behind them reading, and she lay her head back on the cushions to look up at them.
“I cannot divulge my sources,” he said. Daisy looked over at Shelby and smiled.
“He puts a glass up to the wall between the lounge and Peter’s office,” she said. “I saw him do it when he ‘went to the bathroom’ a few minutes ago.” Shelby muffled a giggle under one hand and Ezra turned to Daisy in mock hurt.
“Well, that’s the last time I get you caffeine when you want it!” he joked. She pursed her lips at him.
“Really?” said Auggie, just now getting interested. “What else did you hear? I bet it’s some crazy messed up kid…”
“You mean like us?” Shelby commented. Ezra rolled his eyes, but laughed.
“Well you’re close,” he said smugly, enjoying the attention, “but you’re way off.” There was a long silence, and everyone looked at him in confusion.
“Well, are you going to share with the rest of the class?” Daisy asked impatiently. Ezra smiled and twirled his pen in the air.
“I might,” he said, “if, perhaps, one of you fine people could divulge the answer to question three.” The others looked down at their own meagre efforts as Shelby leapt up from her seat, shoving a marker in her book and seizing a notebook from the seat next to her. She opened it and dropped it in front of a shocked Ezra, then sat backwards in the chair next to him.
“Finished ages ago,” she told him, “now dish.” He looked in disbelief down at the notebook, debating whether he should make them wait until he’d finished copying, and grinning devilishly at the thought. “Come on,” Shelby prodded, and so he sat forward a little in his chair.
“Alright,” he said, “I didn’t hear all of it, but here’s the gist.” Everyone leaned in a little closer. Across the room sitting at another desk reading, Roger looked up at them, shook his head and went back to his book. “Okay, the guy’s a depressive; Peter said something about a disorder.”
“Depression, as in catatonic or depression as in ‘I want to kill myself’?” asked Daisy. Ezra hesitated.
“Uhh, the second one, I think.”
“Okay, what else?” Auggie prodded. Ezra shrugged.
“Well, he’s a runaway, and he’s been arrested.” There were approving murmurs all around, but Ezra put up his hand. “Last but not least: he’s Jewish.”
“Jewish?”
“Jewish.”
“How Jewish?”
“Really Jewish,” he replied, “as in Peter’s talking about ‘a lot of changes’ Jewish.” There were confused looks exchanged.
“I knew a girl who was Jewish,” said Juliette, “she was really nice.”
“I’m Jewish,” Scott said as he walked by. Everyone looked at him funny.
“You are?” Ezra asked, surprised. Scott grimaced at them.
“No,” he said, and walked away. The others watched him go with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
“He’s an odd one,” Daisy commented dryly. Shelby laughed at her.
“And you’re not?” She craned her neck to see the last bit of him as he disappeared into the boys’ dorms and sighed. “He is cute though…”
Just then the front door opened. A tall man walked in, in his late forties, long white beard and curly white hair, wearing a long black coat and a black hat. Everyone stared at him as he made his way into Peter’s office, and the room went even more silent when the door closed.
“No,” said Daisy.
“It can’t be,” said Juliette.
“Hey, was that Santa Clause?” asked Auggie. Everyone laughed while Ezra tore up his last page of notes, balled it up and threw it at him.
“Ahh, Rabbi Kirsh, thank you for coming,” Peter stood and shook the man’s hand. The Rabbi politely shook his hand and sat down.
“Nice place here,” he commented. Sophie smiled and thanked him.
“You said on the phone,” Peter got to the point, “about what we were ‘getting in to’?” The Rabbi laughed, and Peter could tell this was a man who laughed often. He didn’t trust people who didn’t know how to laugh.
“Ah yes, not to worry,” he said. “We will, of course have to kosher the kitchen.”
“The kitchen?”
“Yes. You have bacon for breakfast?” Peter looked at Sophie and then back at Rabbi Kirsh.
“Yeah.”
“It’s not kosher.”
“Oh.”
“So anything it was cooked in is not kosher.”
“Oh.”
“Do you remember everything that has ever touched bacon, Mr. Scarbrow?”
“No…”
“So we have to kosher the kitchen.” Peter nodded, seeing the simple conclusion.
“Oh.” He thought for a minute. “Won’t this cost a lot of money?”
“Don’t worry about that,” said the Rabbi with a smile. Peter frowned.
“What do you mean?” The Rabbi sat forward in his chair and folded his hands on the desk, looking Peter in the eye.
“Do you not know who the Mendels are?” he asked. He winked knowingly at Peter, and Peter got the impression that the Mendels were very important people. “They have made it clear that they will do whatever is necessary to see their son gets better. If they have to pay for a kitchen to be koshered, it’s a small price for their son’s health.” Peter and Sophie looked at each other in shock. They’d always had to scrounge for money to keep the facility functioning. Parents usually contested the high tuition at Horizon. This was a totally new experience for them.
“Oh,” was all Peter could say to the end of their financial problems.
“There is also the matter of Shabbat,” the Rabbi continued.
“Shabbat?”
“The Sabbath,” Sophie told him. He looked at her with a question, but decided to ask her later.
“There are restrictions on Shabbat that must be respected,” Rabbi Kirsh said. “If it is okay with you, we have decided that I will stay here for the first few weeks until everything is ironed out.” Peter looked again at Sophie, and she nodded.
“Sure, that’s fine,” Peter replied. “Only, we would ask that you not interfere with our counselling methods.” The Rabbi put up his hands and nodded.
“That’s perfectly okay with me,” he said, “I will be here for the boy’s religious needs only. Once the kitchen is okay, we will have a Mashgiach here full time to cook.” Peter looked uncertain.
“A Mas…”
“It’s a…I guess you could say they make sure that everything is kosher, what’s brought in, what’s prepared…”
“I’m sorry, Rabbi,” Sophie said, “but we have the kids make their own food. It’s part of their lessons. They have to work for what they get.” The Rabbi considered this and nodded.
“That is an admirable policy,” he said, “but it may be difficult having so many kids in the kitchen, keeping it kosher. Unless of course, we educated them about it.” Sophie looked up at Peter, whose eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline.
“That…would be interesting…”
‘A Man once asked to learn the entire Torah while standing on one foot, to which Rabbi Akiva replied: “Love your fellow man as you love yourself. The rest is commentary, now go study.”’ (par. Jerusalem Talmud 4:9)
Peter was sitting at his desk when Sophie came in. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yep,” he said, still reading the file in front of him. Intrigued, she let the door close behind her and leant over the desk to read upside down. “New kid coming in,” he continued.
“Shaim Mendel?” Sophie asked, unsure of her pronunciation.
“Chaim,” he corrected. “It’s that guttural ‘ch’ sound like in German, with the hard ‘ee’ at the end. Chaim.”
“What kind of name is that?” she asked curiously.
“Hebrew.” When she didn’t comment, he looked up.
“He’s Jewish?” she asked in amazement. He nodded, pointing out the ‘patient’s religion’ line on his hospital records.
“Not only that, he’s Orthodox.” She frowned and looked back down at the chart.
“Oh Peter, we’re not equipped to handle that,” she said, “how will he…”
“I’ve already spoken to his Rabbi about it,” he replied. “We’ll have to make some adjustments, and it’ll be tough for a while, but he really had nowhere else to go.” She nodded and shrugged.
“Horizon is all about tolerance,” she said. He took a deep breath and began to read the file aloud. She crossed her arms and listened.
“Diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder by the local hospital…episodes of severe depression, anxiety, anger, repeated suicide attempts, habitual runaway - he’s even been arrested.”
“For what?”
“Possession.” He watched Sophie’s eyebrows rise a bit.
“He’s all over the map, isn’t he?” she commented, reading a bit more on her own. “It says here he grew up in a stable home environment. No familial traumas, no history of mental illness or abuse. He’s just a normal kid.”
“Who cracked,” Peter added. Sophie shook her head, reading on, and then closing the file and sitting back in her chair.
“So what kind of changes are we looking at?” she asked him, getting back to their earlier topic. Peter shrugged.
“There’s a Rabbi coming up today to evaluate what Chaim needs in place before he arrives.”
“When’s he coming?”
“Thursday.” He frowned, as if just remembering something. “You know, it was an odd conversation, now that I think of it.”
“What?”
“On the phone yesterday with the Rabbi…he kept asking me if I was sure I knew what I was getting into. I wonder what he meant by that…”
The living room was oddly quiet, considering that it was full. On every chair and sofa there was a student doing some form of homework. At least, that’s how it appeared to the teachers.
“Did you hear?” Ezra leaned in to the centre of their table. They were all doing English homework, but a steady stream of chatter had kept them from getting bored with John Knowles. “They’re bringing in a new kid.” Daisy finished what she was writing, but grinned.
“Come to join the rest of the loonies in our little fun house,” she said dramatically. Juliette sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Where did you hear that?” asked Shelby. She was sitting on the couch behind them reading, and she lay her head back on the cushions to look up at them.
“I cannot divulge my sources,” he said. Daisy looked over at Shelby and smiled.
“He puts a glass up to the wall between the lounge and Peter’s office,” she said. “I saw him do it when he ‘went to the bathroom’ a few minutes ago.” Shelby muffled a giggle under one hand and Ezra turned to Daisy in mock hurt.
“Well, that’s the last time I get you caffeine when you want it!” he joked. She pursed her lips at him.
“Really?” said Auggie, just now getting interested. “What else did you hear? I bet it’s some crazy messed up kid…”
“You mean like us?” Shelby commented. Ezra rolled his eyes, but laughed.
“Well you’re close,” he said smugly, enjoying the attention, “but you’re way off.” There was a long silence, and everyone looked at him in confusion.
“Well, are you going to share with the rest of the class?” Daisy asked impatiently. Ezra smiled and twirled his pen in the air.
“I might,” he said, “if, perhaps, one of you fine people could divulge the answer to question three.” The others looked down at their own meagre efforts as Shelby leapt up from her seat, shoving a marker in her book and seizing a notebook from the seat next to her. She opened it and dropped it in front of a shocked Ezra, then sat backwards in the chair next to him.
“Finished ages ago,” she told him, “now dish.” He looked in disbelief down at the notebook, debating whether he should make them wait until he’d finished copying, and grinning devilishly at the thought. “Come on,” Shelby prodded, and so he sat forward a little in his chair.
“Alright,” he said, “I didn’t hear all of it, but here’s the gist.” Everyone leaned in a little closer. Across the room sitting at another desk reading, Roger looked up at them, shook his head and went back to his book. “Okay, the guy’s a depressive; Peter said something about a disorder.”
“Depression, as in catatonic or depression as in ‘I want to kill myself’?” asked Daisy. Ezra hesitated.
“Uhh, the second one, I think.”
“Okay, what else?” Auggie prodded. Ezra shrugged.
“Well, he’s a runaway, and he’s been arrested.” There were approving murmurs all around, but Ezra put up his hand. “Last but not least: he’s Jewish.”
“Jewish?”
“Jewish.”
“How Jewish?”
“Really Jewish,” he replied, “as in Peter’s talking about ‘a lot of changes’ Jewish.” There were confused looks exchanged.
“I knew a girl who was Jewish,” said Juliette, “she was really nice.”
“I’m Jewish,” Scott said as he walked by. Everyone looked at him funny.
“You are?” Ezra asked, surprised. Scott grimaced at them.
“No,” he said, and walked away. The others watched him go with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
“He’s an odd one,” Daisy commented dryly. Shelby laughed at her.
“And you’re not?” She craned her neck to see the last bit of him as he disappeared into the boys’ dorms and sighed. “He is cute though…”
Just then the front door opened. A tall man walked in, in his late forties, long white beard and curly white hair, wearing a long black coat and a black hat. Everyone stared at him as he made his way into Peter’s office, and the room went even more silent when the door closed.
“No,” said Daisy.
“It can’t be,” said Juliette.
“Hey, was that Santa Clause?” asked Auggie. Everyone laughed while Ezra tore up his last page of notes, balled it up and threw it at him.
“Ahh, Rabbi Kirsh, thank you for coming,” Peter stood and shook the man’s hand. The Rabbi politely shook his hand and sat down.
“Nice place here,” he commented. Sophie smiled and thanked him.
“You said on the phone,” Peter got to the point, “about what we were ‘getting in to’?” The Rabbi laughed, and Peter could tell this was a man who laughed often. He didn’t trust people who didn’t know how to laugh.
“Ah yes, not to worry,” he said. “We will, of course have to kosher the kitchen.”
“The kitchen?”
“Yes. You have bacon for breakfast?” Peter looked at Sophie and then back at Rabbi Kirsh.
“Yeah.”
“It’s not kosher.”
“Oh.”
“So anything it was cooked in is not kosher.”
“Oh.”
“Do you remember everything that has ever touched bacon, Mr. Scarbrow?”
“No…”
“So we have to kosher the kitchen.” Peter nodded, seeing the simple conclusion.
“Oh.” He thought for a minute. “Won’t this cost a lot of money?”
“Don’t worry about that,” said the Rabbi with a smile. Peter frowned.
“What do you mean?” The Rabbi sat forward in his chair and folded his hands on the desk, looking Peter in the eye.
“Do you not know who the Mendels are?” he asked. He winked knowingly at Peter, and Peter got the impression that the Mendels were very important people. “They have made it clear that they will do whatever is necessary to see their son gets better. If they have to pay for a kitchen to be koshered, it’s a small price for their son’s health.” Peter and Sophie looked at each other in shock. They’d always had to scrounge for money to keep the facility functioning. Parents usually contested the high tuition at Horizon. This was a totally new experience for them.
“Oh,” was all Peter could say to the end of their financial problems.
“There is also the matter of Shabbat,” the Rabbi continued.
“Shabbat?”
“The Sabbath,” Sophie told him. He looked at her with a question, but decided to ask her later.
“There are restrictions on Shabbat that must be respected,” Rabbi Kirsh said. “If it is okay with you, we have decided that I will stay here for the first few weeks until everything is ironed out.” Peter looked again at Sophie, and she nodded.
“Sure, that’s fine,” Peter replied. “Only, we would ask that you not interfere with our counselling methods.” The Rabbi put up his hands and nodded.
“That’s perfectly okay with me,” he said, “I will be here for the boy’s religious needs only. Once the kitchen is okay, we will have a Mashgiach here full time to cook.” Peter looked uncertain.
“A Mas…”
“It’s a…I guess you could say they make sure that everything is kosher, what’s brought in, what’s prepared…”
“I’m sorry, Rabbi,” Sophie said, “but we have the kids make their own food. It’s part of their lessons. They have to work for what they get.” The Rabbi considered this and nodded.
“That is an admirable policy,” he said, “but it may be difficult having so many kids in the kitchen, keeping it kosher. Unless of course, we educated them about it.” Sophie looked up at Peter, whose eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline.
“That…would be interesting…”