Warren Israel
Professor Wilson Ding
ENG 2150
December 15, 2023
Final
“Mom, do we really have to see him?” Hayden whined to his mother.
“As a matter of fact, yes we do” his mother fired back.
As Hayden’s mother pushed her young teenage son into the small limestone colored Jerusalem apartment, an old man with thick black glasses, a black cashmere sweater, and a kippah stood up from his decrepit recliner.
“Hayden, Irit, I’m so happy to see you!” Hayden’s grandfather exclaimed.
“Abaleh, you look great!” Hayden’s mother said as she ran over to her father to give him a hug. “Hayden, don’t just stand there like a bum, give Saba a hug.”
Hayden walked over very begrudgingly, almost repulsed by the frail man.
“Hananya, how have you been, my boy?” the old man said smiling, revealing his yellow teeth.
“Fine grandpa, but I don’t know why you keep calling me Hananya, my name is Hayden,” the boy said, giving his grandfather the lightest hug.
“Listen you two, I have to go to the store for dinner tonight. Why don’t you guys catch up?” Hayden’s mother exclaimed heading for the door.
Hayden ran towards his mother, and whispered to her “Mom, please don’t leave me here. I don’t wanna be alone with him.”
“What’s wrong with Saba Moshe? You know, when you were a little boy, you used to love coming here to visit your grandparents.”
“I know, but it’s summer. I don’t wanna be stuck in a house with a skeleton. I wanna be back in Brooklyn with the boyz.”
“The boyz? You hang out with ‘the boyz’ everyday. Spend time with your family for one in your life. Plus, we don’t know how much longer Saba has. Cheer him up.”
“Ok fine, but you owe me big time.” Hayden said with a smile on his face.
“I gave you life, if anything, you owe me.” Irit snapped back jovially.
Hayden walked back over to his grandfather, and sat on the green, plastic covered couch next to the recliner.
“Hananya, why don’t you get a haircut? You look like a piece of broccoli. Don’t you want to find a nice wife” Saba Moshe said.
“Sure grandpa.” The boy replied, staring at the television playing some Hebrew show.
“And why don’t you change your clothes? Why do you have to wear all that baggy stuff? Dress like a gever (a man).”
“So I have to dress in an all black suit like you grandpa?” Hayden remarked.
“Well, not exactly. But you’re going to become a Bar Mitzvah soon, so you should dress like one. Have you even started studying your portion?”
“No, I don’t know if I even want to have a Bar Mitzvah to be completely honest with you. Listen, I know you really andGrandma Leah really liked this stuff, but it’s not my thing.” Hayden told this grandfather.
“Not your thing? Why not?” Saba Moshe said, turning to face his grandson out of mere confusion and curiosity.
“Because I never really connected with it. I mean I get it. We almost got killed, we survived, let’s eat. How many times are we gonna repeat the same thing?”
“So you think Judaism is boring?” the frail old man asked.
“Pretty much. Look, I don’t want to offend you or anything, but that’s how I feel.”
“How about this?” Saba Moshe proposed. “I’m going to make you like Judaism.”
“Oh no!” Hayden said. “Listen grandpa, I’ve heard the same shit over and over again. I doubt anything you say is gonna change my mind man.”
“I’m going to teach you one fact about Judaism a day. And if by the time you become a Bar Mitzvah, you still don’t like Judaism, you never have to see me again. You don’t even have to come back to Israel ever again if you don’t want to. I’ll tell Ima to leave you back in America. But, if by the time you become a Bar Mitzvah, you like Judaism and want to learn more, you have to live with me and attend Yeshivah.”
“So lemme get this straight,”Hayden asked. “If I don’t wanna be Jewish, I don’t have to come back here, but if I do, I have to live with you and go to Jew school?”
“I think that’s very reasonable.”
“You know what old man,” Hayden responded with his hand out. “You’ve got yourself a deal bro. But you gotta keep your end of the deal. Don’t be having me live here and shit if I don’t wanna, alright?”
“Sounds like a plan.” his grandfather agreed, shaking his grandson’s hand.
“Alright, let’s get this over with. Hit me with your best shot.” Hayden said sardonically, shifting his body to face the wrinkled face of his mother’s father.
“My dear boy, do you know why you have the name you do.” Saba Moshe asked.
“Hayden, I don’t know. I always thought my parents just liked it.” he answered.
“No, to me, Hayden is no one. You, my boy , are named Hananya.” his grandfather said sharply, correcting him.
“Oh yeah, right.” Hayden said, rolling his eyes. “You know in America, no one calls me that. Only you and Grandma Leah used to call me that.”
“Do you know why you’re named Hananya?” Saba Moshe said slowly getting up from his chair.
“Wasn’t that your dad or something.” Hayden answered unsurely, as he watched his elderly grandfather shuffle to the other side of the room, with his ancient black fur slippers and wooden cane. “Where are you going?” he said as he watched his grandfather hobble to the bookshelf, and grab a large black and gold photo album.
Saba Moshe, put the album in his armpit, adjusted his glasses, grabbed his cane, and slowly made his way back to the recliner. He fell back into his leather chair, snatched his kippah before it fell off his gray haired, slightly balding head. He then opened the book, and scrolled through the pictures until he landed on one, and turned it so Hayden could see.
“That, boychik sheli, is your great grandfather, Hananya.” said Saba Moshe. “My beloved father.”
“I know. You and grandma Leah showed me photos of him a million times grandpa. What’s your point?” Hayden asked.
“You are his namesake, you have his neshama. You have his soul.” Saba Moshe said, raising his voice.
“His soul?”
“Yes, his soul.”
“How”
The old man took a piece of paper and a pen from the coffee table, and started writing the word for soul in Hebrew.
“Can you read what this says?” Saba Moshe asked.
“Yeah,” Hayden replied. “It says neshama, soul.”
Hayden’s grandfather then covered the first and last letters with his hands, only revealing the two middle letters.
“Do you know what this says?” the grandfather asked again.
“It says shem; name.” Hayden responded.
“Very good.” Saba Moshe sarcastically told him. “Do you understand? Your name is in your soul. And by inheriting my father’s name, you’re inheriting his legacy and his soul.”
Hayden began to nod, still skeptical, but interged.
“Not only are you carrying my father’s legacy, but you’re honoring all the Hananya’s in our family for thousands of years. Your neshama does not carry “Hayben” or whatever you want to call yourself. Your neshama says Hananya.” Saba Moshe said, slightly raising his voice as his intensity and passion increases. “Or look at this.” he said, grabbing at the white string hanging from his waist. “Do you know what this is called anymore?”
“Yeah, that’s tzitzit.” Hayden said, beginning to lose his dubious and demeaning tone.
“Tzitzit comes from the ancient Hebrew word to blossom. This represents God telling us not only to blossom and grow as individuals, but to make sure the next generation blossoms.”
“Huh, I never knew that.” Hayden said, starting to sound more fascinated.
“See, so how can you say you think Judaism is boring if you don’t know anything about it?” His grandfather said, smiling at the boy.
“You got me there old man. What else do you got for me?” Moshe’s grandson exclaimed.
“Have you ever heard of Gematria?” Saba Moshe asked.
“Just tell me already, you know I don’t.” Hayden said as they both laughed.
“Gematria is the numeral value to Hebrew letters. Aleph is one, bet is 2, so on and so forth. So because of this, all Hebrew words have a numeral value. For example, Chai (life in Hebrew) has a numeral value of 18. That is why in Jewish events, people often give multiples of 18. Or this,” Saba Moshe says, grabbing his tzitzit once again. “Tzitzit has a numeral value of 613. There are 613 mitzvot or commandments that Jews must follow. This tzitzit reminds Jews that to blossom, they must follow the 613 mitzvot.”
“Wait, that’s actually pretty cool.” Hayden told his grandfather, surprised himself that those words came out of his mouth. “Are there any other words like that?”
“Thousands.” The old man said with a smile on his face, exhilarated that he was able to captivate his young, seemingly disrespectful grandson.
3 replies on “Assignment #3 Draft”
To start off, I really liked how you made a narrative piece. It felt very personal although I am not the target audience it was like reading a familiar, comforting story. I know you aren’t done but still good job. It was also nice how you continued to use religion through out the story which I think could appeal to your audience. The story is a nice opening for those who need more of a push in Judaism or just wanting to grow even more in love with it. the building relationship between the grandfather and grandson is beautiful. Do you feel that the thesis is protrayed well in the writing? I also liked the scenes and dialogues.
Very creative piece. I don’t know if the thesis was clear enough. I might steal this format cause I ain’t got nothing yet.
Wonderful piece, Warren. Even my topic is similar to yours, it’s about the process of reconnecting to one’s culture. I loved the intricate details that you included such as the numerical values of Hebrew letters and words. These are concepts specific to the Jewish culture which have a distinct beauty to them. I believe choosing to express your ideas through narrative was a smart decision.
On an editing note, I found no grammatical errors. The flow of the passage was consistent, as you began with some humor (to me) with your word choice. For example, the line “don’t just stand there like a bum, give Saba a hug” almost sounded like it was meant to rhyme— almost. It was fun to read and captured my attention from the beginning to the end.
Well done.