He was on his way home from school on a dank winter afternoon when the attack came from nowhere, launched like a missile across the Gaza Strip. Suddenly he lay on his back with Jonathan Love pounding him in the face. “You dirty Jew. Dirty little Jew! You killed Christ.”
There was nothing Ben could do. His furious 13-year-old assailant was three years older, much bigger and heavier. And his knees had pinned Ben's arms, driving them into the ground where they stretched out from each side of Ben's shoulders as if nailed on a cross in the cold, grey snow.
In the mainly Jewish neighbourhood, whose prosperous families lived in roomy suburban bungalows, Ben lived in an enclave inhabited by Irish-Scottish immigrants. The long narrow side street was a double-sided row of dreary three-story red brick buildings, with four units on each floor. The unit he lived in was the only one with a mezuzah, a reminder of God's presence and commandments. His mother had insisted he nail the small brass tubular case, adorned with a Star of David and Kabbalah protection hand, to their front doorpost.
Inside every mezuzah was a tiny paper scroll inscribed with Deuteronomy 6:4-9 and 11:13-21. Ben had memorized passages from the ancient Hebrew scriptures.
“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.”
When he entered the apartment his mother was sitting at the notebook-laden kitchen table, which she used as a place not for meals but for her writing. Ben knew she was different from other mothers. She was a Catholic who had converted to Judaism, now determined to become a professional Jew and writer, and to take her revenge on his father, an author and renegade Jew who had divorced her to marry an atheist.
“And these things that I command you today shall be upon your heart.”
It was confusing. At age four he'd attended Saint Mark's Nursery School, been one of The Three Wise Men in the Christmas play, and come to love baby Jesus in the manger. Now, at 10, in addition to public school, he was enrolled as a student at Talmud Torah, and on Saturday mornings sang in the choir at Temple Sinai. He had, his mother said, “a surprisingly sweet voice.”
“And you shall teach them to your children…”
Ben had once asked her why she'd married his father. She replied, as if astonished by his ignorance, “Everyone knows Jews are the smartest, and make the most money.”
“…and you shall speak of them when you sit in your house and when you go on the way, when you lie down and when you rise up.”
She now looked at him, shook her head, and said, with a sneer of disgust, “What sort of trouble have you been getting yourself into? Keep it up, Benny. No nice Jewish girl will ever love you.” She resumed scribbling in one of her hundreds of coiled wire-bound notebooks. Her latest entry was about what she called The Holy Trinity — the rabbi, the psychiatrist, and herself as object of their desire.
“And you shall bind them as a sign upon your arm and they shall be an ornament between your eyes.”
He went into the bathroom to examine the cuts and caked blood on his battered face and ripening bruises on his aching arms. He didn't cry. He never cried. It would be a sign that what happened to him mattered. He looked into the mirrow, and said to himself, "It doesn't matter. God loves us whether we're Jewish or Christian."
“And you shall write them upon the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”
That night, after cooking his own dinner, completing his double load of homework, and saying his prayers, he dreamt he was afloat in the infant Moses' basket of papyrus, and that the gentle voice singing him to sleep belonged to a woman named Mary.
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Children who are unloved or neglected may re-enact tensions they see in the adult world, or rely on a Higher Power for comfort and guidance. Written as a message of hope vs. religious intolerance.
THE BOY WHO KILLED CHRIST
Copyright © 2010 by Frank Vander Rasky
All rights reserved.
http://TheBoywhokilledChrist.com
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Frank, this is a very particular and interesting point of view, this Ben who is Jewish growing up in an Irish-Scottish enclave, who'd gone to Catholic nursery school and now who's Jewish father has taken up with an atheist woman. I feel like you could write a novel on all this alone. Great form here, love the interspersed bible passages, how they lend resonance. Very moving ending. Fave.
Wow, Frank. What a piece- Great form and approach. For me it's a think piece. Really like the closing here.
"He didn't cry. He never cried. It would be a sign that what happened to him mattered. "
Great story, Frank. Love the character, a wise and courageous child. I agree with Kathy, there's more to this story. *
Wow, what a moving piece, Frank. I admire your skill in crafting this - especially the boy. What a great character. *!
Kathy, Sam, Kim, Jules - Todah rabah! Your generous comments are greatly appreciated and warm my heart.
beautifully rendered, fascinating form - really great the interlacing of the scroll text with the story - wonderful characters, love the ending.
Oh, this killed me, Frank, the intertwining of verse and narrative, the intertwining of faiths within the heart of a confused, well-intentioned boy. The beauty of these words in Deuteronomy which are so key in Jewish tradition really shone here against the realities of the boy's life.
How sad this is, but so beautiful. He sustains an imaginative identity apart from the identity others would have him adopt for their own reasons, at least for this narrative moment. And I'm with Kathy. I'd love to read more!
I like your background comments too, Frank. I do think children can have not only imaginative identities but real spiritual identities apart from adults and I think you've shown that here brilliantly.
-- Q
Fave for sure! -- Q
Hi Frank! Like Sam I love the ending. Beautiful. Like Kathy and Kim, I also think there's something bigger in this that's well worth exploring. Fascinating piece.
This is beautifully wrought, a story of a dysfunctional family and a confusion that surrounds the mother and son even as he approaches a naturally traumatic time in life when identity matters. It stands on its own, but I certainly can see a much longer story, even a novel, based on this character.
amazement mr. Raskey - I agree with the above comments, all. Yes.
(sorry i spelled your last name wrong, ha - part of the amazement was messing up the spelling of your name!)
Meg, Susan, Kate, Quenby, Marcus, Jules, Kim, Sam, Kathy – I am honored to have such wonderful comments from writers I so respect. Thank you!
Great storyline and characters, Frank, delightfully written with original style and technique. You definitely have the basic ingredients here for a best selling novel. Such a boy could grow into a world leader and unite humanity.
'Her latest entry was about what she called The Holy Trinity — the rabbi, the psychiatrist, and herself as object of their desire.'
It's all part of his unique education.
JMC, thank you! Your generous comments are deeply appreciated.
“Such a boy could grow into a world leader and unite humanity.” That’s a tall order for the small boy in my story! But, indeed, a world not divided by religion, culture, or creed, is a beautiful vision.
I'm always amazed by the dimensions of religion. I felt as if I knew these people. Enjoyed.
Thanks, Larry! I'm happy you liked it, and the characters felt real.
wonderful work Frank, I enjoyed this thoroughly!
How we still make each other suffer over fairytales. And yet, what would we do without them? Powerful stuff here!
"The rabbi, the psychiatrist, and herself as object of their desire."
Very sharp! Like Ben's thoughts at the end there.