{"id":22784,"date":"2015-04-02T10:56:43","date_gmt":"2015-04-02T16:56:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.crescentcityjewishnews.com\/?p=22784"},"modified":"2015-04-02T10:56:43","modified_gmt":"2015-04-02T16:56:43","slug":"elijah-in-manhattan","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.crescentcityjewishnews.com\/blog\/elijah-in-manhattan\/","title":{"rendered":"Elijah in Manhattan"},"content":{"rendered":"

By TED ROBERTS, the SCRIBBLER ON THE ROOF<\/em><\/p>\n

\"Ted_Roberts\"

\u201cHey, you must be Jewish,\u201d blurted out Nathan, a lonely bachelor whose only other date was Channel 15 on a cold, rainy night in April.<\/p>\n

\u201cI bet you\u2019re Jewish, too,\u201d she responded.<\/p>\n

Well, things were looking up.\u00a0\u00a0 Nathan now sat beside her and she responded with a smile at his aggressive move. He\u2019s Jewish, no stranger, she thought.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat a night for two Jewish buckaroos to be sitting in a western bar in the middle of Manhattan,\u201d said Rachel. \u201cIt\u2019s the first night of Passover, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. I\u2019m afraid I\u2019ve neglected \u2018my heritage\u2019 as my father puts it. He lives here in the city – only a few blocks down 57th. My family has a Seder every year. They sit around the table – sing childish songs – stuff themselves on a 5-course meal and wait for Elijah, the heavenly visitor to drop by. I go to a bar. Usually the one over on 8th and 52nd. This year my mood took me here. Don\u2019t know why. It\u2019s a heck of a coincidence that I\u2019m sitting next to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m alone in the city. My family is back home in Louisville, Kentucky. Like yours, about now they\u2019re sitting down to a huge meal with a week\u2019s supply of calories and cholesterol. Kosher, but still deadly. And I\u2019m sure they\u2019re singing silly songs, as you put it. Wish I was there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow seriously do they play out the Elijah game? You know the legend. His visit to every Jewish home on Seder night. I remember my old man. He\u2019d put down his wine glass, get all serious and open the front door. \u2018Hey Pop,\u2019 the eight-year-old who was then me, would shout, \u2018If the ubiquitous Elijah can pop up at six million Jewish homes in a single night, he can get through that wood-paneled front door without your help. A decent burglar can do it in a few minutes. Why not challenge the prophet?\u2019 My old man hated it.\u201d<\/p>\n

An old gentleman at the end of the bar looked up with a pained expression.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess so,\u201d remarked Rachel. \u201cSure I know the Elijah story – our Rabbi calls it a Midrash – a Rabbinic parable – which elevates it a level or two above a legend. It\u2019s one of those unifying articles of faith that every Jew – even the lost ones – enjoys believing. A sweet story, you know. In fact, my Rabbi believes that besides visiting many millions of Seders on the first night of Pesach, he\u2019s there – on Passover night – wherever two or more Jews are together.\u201d<\/p>\n

She had been a little loud. She noticed the old gentleman at the end of the bar had looked up from his drink, a dark purple wine in an ornate silver wine glass. Wonder what they called that drink? Wonder if you got to keep the glass?<\/p>\n

Nathan, his arms folded loosely across his chest, had fixed his eyes on her as she talked. She\u2019s got some spirit, he reflected. How his father\u2019s eyes would gleam with passion to hear her declarations of faith.<\/p>\n

Rachel brushed her hair back from her face. \u201cSorry, I got a little carried away – didn\u2019t mean to preach to you. Let\u2019s talk about something else.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, no, I understand. That first night of Pesach is magic, my old man used to say. Makes you remember who you are. Every Jew, he used to say, had a progenitor – an ancestor – in his direct line who walked dry shod on the bed of the Red Sea. If he had perished under Egyptian whips or drowned beneath the waves – I, for example, wouldn\u2019t be sitting at this glitzy bar in 21st Century America talking to a young Jewish lady who believes in a resuscitated prophet who makes a million house calls on one Spring night.”<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what?\u201d she said suddenly. \u201cI\u2019d love to go to a Seder tonight. And there\u2019s no lamb shank, haroseth, parsley or bitter herb at your place or mine – but there is at your father\u2019s place. Why don\u2019t we surprise him? We\u2019ll be just in time to greet Elijah.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nathan blinked. And nodded. With her, he had a chance. So, linking his arm in hers, he set out on the longest journey any man can undertake. A journey home.<\/p>\n

And at the end of the bar, the dignified, but poorly dressed patron held up his wine goblet. \u201cThere are no coincidences,\u201d he whispered to the goblet. He glanced hurriedly at his watch and left. He had many calls to make.<\/p>\n

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