The Iow Review Volume 6 Issue 1 Winter Article 8 1975 Jewish Lightning Erl Gnz Follow this nd dditionl works t: http://ir.uiow.edu/iowreview Prt of Cretive Writing Commons Recommended Cittion Gnz, Erl. "Jewish Lightning." The Iow Review 6.1 (1975): 17-25. Web. Avilble t: https://doi.org/10.17077/0021-065x.1785 This Contents is brought to you for free nd open ccess by Iow Reserch Online. It hs been ccepted for inclusion in The Iow Review by n uthorized dministrtor of Iow Reserch Online. For more informtion, plese contct lib-ir@uiow.edu.
FICTION / EARL GANZ Jewish Lightning The priest hd brought my overcot nd ws bookbg, busying himself, first with hnging cot in room's tiny closet, n with opening book out bg, tking books, nd lying m in row on tble bridged bed. I remember re ws moment of wkwrd silence until I relized he wnted me to cknowledge ws everything re. Let's see. There ws Newmn's Apologi of course. And Jmes' Vrieties of Re ligious Experience. And I think perhps Drby Nock's book on conversion. It ws mid-november nd I hd just begun my senior seminr pper, one eventully grew into my book on religious ttitudes in Victorin Englnd. Ah, ws n exciting time, just n inkling one might be beginning one's life's work. Be s it my, I never did mke cknowl edgment. The lte fternoon sun, which ll dy hd been circling Chrles River, decided t very moment to swoop through crck in my curtins crelessly pulled nd settle like glowing bird upon priest's right shoulder. "Wht is it?" 'Wht's mtter?" "Shll I cll nurse?" "Are you ll right?" As one might imgine my scorched eyes were terribly sensitive to light nd I hd to look wy to opposite wll, drk isle on side of bed. The doctors hd wrned me something like this might hppen, hd explined it s kind of fterglow effect, brin lesion which y promised would fde with time. Yet now I think bout it I'm sure y never ment s nything vivid s I ws seeing t moment, whole wll fire. Hve you ever seen something you knew ws not re? And it wsn't until I relized my stre ws upsetting my visitor I forced myself to turn bck to him. Hppily he seemed to hve guessed cuse, hd gone to window, pulled curtin nd returned to my bedside. My eyes, I explined fter tking moment to regin my composure. And n to chnge subject I sked why re hd been no mention of fire in newsppers? In truth I'd been t disppointed lck of recog nition my brvery hd received, hd fully expected reporters to hve come round, hd hd nurse sve Monitor nd Globe. So I to complined him of ir cllousness. After ll, mn hd died. "Wht!" "But you're mistken." 17 University of Iow is collborting with JSTOR to digitize, preserve, nd extend ccess to The Iow Review www.jstor.org
"No one died." "Wht mde you think someone died?" A second blow to my senses. After ll, I hd been burned by flring of bed upon which n ly old mn, n explosion of het so powerful it hd lifted me off my feet nd into unconsciousness. How could nyone t center survive? But re wsn't nyone re, priest nswered, nd n tried to explin given circumstnces, bsolute drkness, n terrific burst of light, my thinking I sw somebody ws quite nt url. But, he ssured me gin, re hd been nobody. I didn't rgue, few minutes lter llowed him to leve thinking I ws convinced nd com forted. But I wsn't. Hve you ever hd someone tell you you hd not seen something you were certin you hd seen,, in fct, t very moment you were being given resons why you hd not seen it, out of corner of your eye you were seeing it gin, re in your hospitl room be side your bed, nd feeling it too, old mns flming hnd reching out, two fingers of pin bove your eyes, once priest hd gone, drove you to cll nurse nd beg for more of nrcotic pills doctors hd lvished upon you? Even now I cn feel m, now s I touch old scrs with my finger tips. Yes, more thn two decdes lter I still ber mrks of night, two round swirls of lumpy white tissue, ech bout size of qurter, on symmetriclly plced eir side of my forehed just in front of my tem ples. They mke me look, or so I hve been told, like Michelngelo's depic tion of horned Moses. Cn you imgine! Moses! Be s it my, week lter, s soon s I ws relesed, I went to visit priest. Never mind nme of his church. Tht mn good is still re cring for his prish nd I hve no wish to embrrss him in his old ge. I remember I hd to wit in his study nd I wndered imlessly bout looking t books, touching objects, but ll time wre of feeling I ws being wtched, feeling t one point becme so intense I wheeled bout to ctch my imginry spy in ct. To my dismy, re he ws! The burn ing old mn curling his out to fingers me! It ws horrible. Yet in nor moment I relized it ws more nothing thn illusion, kind of double ex posure, my own imge reflected in glss pnel of door behind which some hung kind of shiny mteril. It ws chsuble, priest's over-grment worn t high mss, usully simple thing, stiff white cpe with cross golden front nd bck. Well, this one ws fr from simple nd even tody I cnnot quite plce it in time, wher or not it ws some ctully exmple of medievl clericl pomp or just Johnny-come-ltely product of Gothic revivl, nd I'm sorry to sy I never did sk priest bout it. Yet I ws fscinted nd I remember with wht excitement I felt its golden threded coolness. Who, once he hs 18
worn such cn grment, rgue with bromide clos mke mn? See priest in his mgnificent robe. See golden Christ hnging from his spine, Svior's hnds niled to his scpule, silver Mrys prying t ech buttock, while between his legs, nked nd hnd in hnd, dnce Adm nd Eve. See priest rise his rms to invoke Almighty. Then look gin. It isn't priest t ll. Look! It's me! "I'm sorry." "A confession." "Now we cn tlk." "Wht brings you here?" When he cme some finlly minutes lter ll ws s it hd been, chsuble bck on its hnger in closet, I wndering bout. In nswer to his question I expressed my desire to meet old mn who ws supposed to hve survived. I explined I wnted to see if he ws sme old mn I thought I hd seen. For I ws sure I hd n explntion of wht hd hppened did not exclude my version of things. It ws simple. There hd been third prty, nor old mn beside one who hd been res cued, nd whose chrred remins, for some inexplicble reson, hd eir not been discovered or not A reported. border or n perhps unwnted reltive or even I prowler? remember he shrugged nd nswered rr grvely I could meet old mn if I wnted, he knew where y were living now, hd gotten plce for m himself. But he wsn't sure it ws wise. And n, seeing puzzled look on my fce, he sked me if I did not remember wht hd hppened fter my rescue? I shook my hed no. But don't you remember old mn's dughter? "She ws desperte." "She needed her costumes." 'Without m she cn't work." "She's... dncer..." And just s I ws bout to sk him wht on erth he ws tlking bout it ll cme bck, me sitting on running bord of fire truck, someone over holding something my fce. The oxygen msk. And I remembered how house looked, old brown pint shining like chocolte, smoke deep bt tleship grey, flmes bright ornge, everything brightened nd rtificil, combintion no doubt of oxygen nd floodlights trucks hd brought with m. And re she ws in front of me, her red nd yellow Indin blnket bthrobe brighter thn nything. She ws reching out to me, tking something from me, holding it up for ll to see. At first I didn't understnd. How did she do it? A bright blue stin thing covered with red sequins. Wht ws it? One cup of brssiere! And I remember I lughed, though my hed hurt t spot from which she hd pulled mteril. I felt wy child must feel when n prlor mgicin pulls egg from 19
his er, hd to push msk wy. And who knows? lughter "You!" "You did it!" "You strted triggered it!" her rge. Perhps it ws "You Jew bstrd!" It's not ltoger implusible to relte current notion Jews re prtil to fires for profit to ir medievl reputtion s rsonists. In 1337, in town of Deggendorf, Bvri, s result of chrge of host desecr tion, Jewish Qurter ws ttcked nd set on fire. But fire spred rp idly through tinderbox towns of those dys nd in no time ll Deggen dorf ws blze. Lter, when church ws erected to commemorte event nd suitble inscription ws plced t its entrnce, it red: "Anno 1337, dy following Michelms Dy, here were Jews slin. They hd set on city fire." Perhps this inscription best explins my own fte for, s priest relted woefully to me, her ccustion ws believed on spot; crowd of her ngry neighbors ws lredy forming. Cn you imgine! She hd sent me in, not for her fr but her costumes. I hd risked my life for costumes! And when I filed she ws willing to blme whole thing on me, perhps even hd plnned it wy. And y were redy to believe her! The ovens of Auschwitz still wrm, horrible news reels still being shown t ir neighborhood ters, nd re y were, se Irish pesnts, redy to ter me limb from limb. Wht ws I doing in house? Wht ws I doing in ir neighborhood? Did I work for Jew lndlord? Be s it my, when I left priest night I ws in mny wys re lieved. For one thing, my questions hd been nswered nd in such sur mnner prising I hd not yet hd time to formulte ors. For nor, priest himself hd mde n on me. impression Oh I know. There re those who will sy he took dvntge of me, of my youth, my injury, my fer. Such were lter comments of my fmily nd friends. To se nd like doubts I cn only sy I believe he cted out of genuine concern. After ll, wht did we end up tlking bout but my pper, bout John Henry Newmn in For it prticulr? turned out like Newmn priest too ws convert nd Newmn's hd Apologi hd gret effect on his decision. It ws n interesting discussion. The Apologi hd been written s defense ginst Chrles Kingsley, one of those Victorin types de scribed s "musculr Christin," ginst Kingsley's chrge Newmn hd dvocted dishonesty in deling with ttcks on Church. Like most followers of rgument priest nd I both believed Newmn hd thor oughly squshed Kingsley with his gret spiritul document,, in fct, gret drm of ws not in utobiogrphy rgument t ll but in 20 my
movement of Newmn's mind towrd Ctholicism. Now7, yers lter, I've come to think opposite. For Apologi more thn substntites Kingsley's chrge of dishonesty; Newmn's book is noth ing more thn n interesting rgumentn d misericordium in which ccused, insted of mrshlling his whole fmily before court of public opinion, simply presents himself t vrious stges of his own development. He does very thing Kingsley hs ccused him of doing, begs ques tion, but does it so beutifully ethicl truth is replced by estic truth. Anywy, it ws se nd like thoughts put me to sleep night, csuistic thoughts, yet comforting in esy exercise of my mind. So when I begn to drem I ws bck in blck smoky house I ws not lrmed. For drem hd sme feeling bout it s rgu ment, feeling ssured me I would know right moment to wke myself, ssured me I knew I ws dreming. No, I ws not frid when I herd tinkling of glss, felt rush of wind on my fce, sw old mn's bed burst into flme, his body curl in het, his hnd rech out to me. And I opened my eyes. But to my mzement, insted of cool wk ing blckness of my room, re ws n even more blinding light nd ser ing het. Now I relize I ws still sleep, though t moment in my drem I ws certin I ws wke, lying in my own bed, old mn in robe of some kind in doorwy, burning re. It ws too much nd I closed my eyes, scremed. But ll this did ws put me bck in my first drem, I stnding in doorwy once more, he burning in bed, covered with grment of fire, reching out, fingers burning. I scremed nd scremed until my suite-mtes cme nd me pulled out. "But I sw him!" "He ws in my room!" "He ws reching out for me!" "Burning me." Of course I should hve kept psychitric ppointment those two good fellows mde for me morning. But filure of one's mind to work properly, or t lest in its usul wy, leds to filure of confidence in mind's usul supports. Like most Hrvrd undergrdutes of dy, I believed, lmost to point of dogm, in efficcy of psychitry nd Freudin view of world, view bsed on ssumption ll is needed to right psychologicl wrong is discovery of cuse of wrong; is view bsed on certin kind of snity, on n ssumption one knows wht is hppening. But I hd seen things were not re nd dremed drems were. And wht bout ppernce of chsuble in my drem? Ws this grment snre plced in my mind by Church? But n who ws snring whom? For priest kept try ing to tlk me out of it, over kept explining nd over nobody hd 21
been re, wht I hd seen ws nothing more thn pile of costumes, flming hnd only burning clothing flying from bed. And he kept tlking bout my injury, my pin, flshes occurring inside my hed, I ws drugs tking. At first I ws stounded, n ngry; I hd expected much more from him. Yet when I looked into his fce, sw concern re, I knew better, knew I ws being tested, he ws in some wy gurding something I wnted though I could not sy wht it ws. And ner vously I pced bout his study, touching objects, picking up religious rti fcts, until I cme upon glss door. I remember I gsped, n stumbled bckwrds into chir. "It's just chsuble!" "Here!" "A ceremonil grment!" "Look!" "Just piece of cloth!" Isn't it Frser who reminds us over nd over once emotionl involve ment is dded to symbolism's resource of substitution, conditions re set for cretion of ceremony? Think of pyment of fines in lieu of bodily punishment, or for mtter of ny code of modern justice replces lex tlionis. Substitution sets conditions for trnscendence since re is technicl sense in which nme for cn thing be sid to trn scend thing nmed. In this cse wht I hd seen ws just piece of cloth nd my own imge superimposed on it in glss. But with cst of grment on glss of my mind, my memory, just s it hd dy before, instntly filled in fire, terror nd pin. Ws con sciousness of this ction dishonest? Or is this not method used by prc titioners of religious rites world over, bringing toger of mem ory full of religious experience with objects will ctivte experience? Yet, in truth, my experience ws not quite religious, not yet nywy. For I don't think I hd wherewithl in my bckground to red correctly or t lest religiously wht hd hppened to me. Think of cross itself. To geometricin it is just two pieces of wood t to right ngles ech or. To nyone who hs lived through crucifixion it is memory full of pin. But to Christin it is whole world nd beyond, pin but lso redemp tion beyond pin. "Wht is it?" "Wht's mtter?" "Wht do you see?" "Wht does He look like?" Up until moment priest sked his lst question I ws in second or pin stge of movement towrd trnscendence. And perhps only rel mircle in this whole story is I somehow herd upper cse in 22
priest's voice or t lest sensed chnge of some sort immeditely s he sked it, kneeling t my feet, chsuble drped over my lp. I see it now s kind of piet but I'm sure it ws much more confused n s it begn to dwn on me here ws new explntion, one ws unssilble by psychitrists or friends or fmily, psychic phenomenon but respect ble, even, t lest t time, honorble one. Of course none of this ws rticulted in my mind. I just st re looking down t his ter-filled fce, embrrssed perhps, feeling little like chrltn, perhps even little unbelieving. But just s quickly s se doubts cme y left. For he ws embrcing my legs, begging my forgiveness for his doubting me, begging me not to nswer his questions, request I'm sure ws terrible for him to mke for, s I cme to know lter, though he hd fsted nd flgellted his youth wy, nothing so drmtic hd ever hppened to him. And once more we found ourselves discussing Newmn nd conversion but this time with none of cdemic distnce hd mrked our first converstion, discussing similrity of my experience to of or converts: blinding flsh of light, vision, symbolic nd rel blindness fter wrds, feeling of being spiritully helpless I ws undergoing t moment. And this brings to mind Newmn's second nd greter he, his llegoricl reding of his own conversion s n imitrlo dei. It's he ll con verts to Christinity, from Augustine on down, tell mselves, flse nlogy of ir experience to pssion of Jesus. Church pologists go to gret lengths to liken convert's psychologicl gonies to rel pin of Jesus. Certinly such n nlogy fltters convert. Yet in cses where convert wkes up to vst differences between his Svior's nd his own experience it is strtgem must bckfire. For if one thinks bout it re re mny more differences side from ctul physicl circumstnces thn re re likenesses. Actul knowledge of heven vs. promised knowl edge. Actul resurrection vs. promised resurrection. Actul vs. immortlity promised immortlity. There re, in fct, ll differences between God nd mn of which mind is cpble of thinking. Imittio dei? Certinly or mrtyrdom suicide is closer to wht on hppend Clvry, suicide for skeptic, mrtyrdom for believer. The deth of will or deth of intellect or whtever Church pologists like to tlk bout, is noth ing more thn mind metphysics, word gmes. The whole nlogy is lie nd Newmn nd Augustine, though consummte uthors, were, s men, never more nything thn filed mrtyrs. But wht bout me? Ws I filing mrtyr? Wht did I wnt? I don't think it ws mrtyrdom. Then wht? For I certinly found conversion experience stisfctory, lmost immeditely begn to contin my hysteri, terror circumstnce nd my own tortured brin hd brought upon 23
me. And nlogy with clssic conversion ptterns held up even to point when time cme to tke finl step, when instruction ws over nd my prents nd my friends were resigned to it, re ws gen uine prlysis of my will, not not prlysis only unusul in such experi ences but ctully prt of experience itself. The mn priest, good he ws, thought my ws difficulty doctrine, trnssubstntition in prticu lr. re Jews trditionlly supposed to hve difficulty with this dogm. And I hd tesed him bout it during discussion. Does Christ pper full-blown but bite-sized upon communicnt's lips? Does one ctully feel oneself chewing little hnds nd feet? Or is portion limited to smll prts of his body, nd if so who would be getting wht? Ah, nswer is too ribld to contemplte nd I'm frid I lughed t good mn's chgrin. Actul ly, I hd no trouble with this or ny or dogm. After ll, if wht hd to me hppened hd relly hppened, why n mysteries such s this were esy. And here ws clue to my hesittion: doubt ny of it hd s trnspired priest nd I it greed hd, minute doubt, one never voiced, but doubt neverless. And so weeks went by nd it ws lredy lmost Ester nd still I could not do it. "Wht!" "It's not true!" "I don't believe it!" "It cn't be!" It ws priest who brought news. He ws very upset, riled ginst old mn nd his dughter, ginst lcohol nd tobcco. At first I didn't understnd. Whom ws he tlking bout? Drunken crelessness, in smoking bed. Then I relized it ws very sme old mn nd his dughter. No, he kept sying, it wsn't very hrd to see how y would turn out, nd he kept repeting this over phrse nd over s if some predictbility how lessened terribleness. And n he broke down nd wept s he de scribed how he'd given m lst rites. Then he confessed he hd done sme for his own prents, y hd been killed in tke-off crsh of ir light plne nd he hd been first to rech m. I don't think it ws so much news of deths s his rection to m strted me crying. And somehow my ters were ble to stop his or perhps his ters simply begn to tke form of words. The herer of confessions to begn confess, first his rge t God who could llow se trgedies nd n his gret guilt for feeling such rge nd finlly his gret grief, not only for se deths but for ll his ded prishioners. It ws veritble orgy of feeling nd I remember t end we were both exhusted, good exhustion, one filled me with tremendous sense of relief so without thinking nymore bout it I told him I ws redy. And we both burst into ters gin, only t moment, ters of joy. 24
"My lmighty God hve mercy upon you." "Forgive you your sins." "And bring you life everlsting." "Amen." At first Mss fter my bptism he wore chsuble nd for oc csion I hd hd my bndges removed entirely. Wht did I think t plcement of wfer upon my lips, or of look he gve me when he sw scrs? It's odd. I herd cll gin. Fire! Fire! Fire! And remem bered those moments running towrd voice, old mn in pjms throwing stones t house. There's someone trpped up re, he shout ed. We've got to get smoke out! And I joined him, removed my over cot, threw down my bookbg, found some stones. It ws my second toss did it, right through lrge single pne. Yet window refused to shtter, used newly mde hole to puff derisive smoke ring into night nd nnounce ppernce of womn in Indin blnket bthrobe. Wht hell you doing? she sked. My fr's trpped up re! You gott get him out! And n she ws pulling me up onto porch, instructing me in geogrphy of her house. Yes! Tht's wht I thought of with wfer on my tongue, one lst look t m both, old mn whom I ws supposed to rescue stnding with his dughter, curl of slight smile on ir orwise shpeless mouths. And I remember s I mde n effort to get m out of my mind, my teeth crunched down upon wfer. I looked t priest's cpe s he returned to ltr, t Adm nd Eve dncing beneth tree. There ws delicte flvor. And n y were gone. POETRY / KASCHNITZ, SOTO A Night in December / Mrie Luise Kschnitz Turnip field, prune trees, river wind. Wtchmen re trcking birth to toolshed. This is strictly forbidden! Refugees belong in cmps? y hve to be counted. A shepherd, wving his stff, mde discovery. His dog Wter signled t hut. 25