The Jerusalem Inception by Avraham Azrieli

from the window as he ran through the rain, holding his hat, his shoes splashing through puddles.
    He entered the synagogue foyer and brushed the drops off his coat. Monotonous chanting came through the open doors of the main sanctuary. In the far corner of the foyer, Benjamin stood with Redhead Dan and his study companion, Yoram.
    Lemmy approached them. “What nasty weather!”
    “It’s better than famine,” Benjamin said. “You want us to starve?”
    “Why starve?” Lemmy waved his hand. “Couldn’t God create a better irrigation system? This rain gets everything wet—buildings, roads, dogs, roaches. Even the sea gets wet! It’s stupid, isn’t it?”
    Redhead Dan said, “God isn’t stupid!”
    “He didn’t say it about God.” Benjamin said. “Just about getting wet in the rain. Surely our merciful God knows best how to run the world He created, right?”
    “That’s a given,” Lemmy said. “But God should deliver water where it’s needed—olive groves in the Galilee, orange trees near Jaffa, and so on. The current system—”
    “Are you questioning God’s wisdom?” Redhead Dan folded his arms on his chest. He was in his early twenties, burly and freckle-faced. His red hair, spiraling payos, and bushy beard created a blaze that kept his head constantly boiling. His young wife had given birth a few days earlier to a baby boy—their first child. “God will punish the sinners! The filthy Zionists will pay for their abortion law.” His voice grew louder. “We’ll destroy their Knesset, flush their law books down the toilet, and drown their heresy in a bath of blood!”
    “You mean a river,” Lemmy said, “not a bath.”
    “What?”
    “A river of blood. It’s hard to drown in a bath.”
    “Whatever!” Redhead Dan made a cutting gesture with his hand.
    “And whose blood will it be,” Lemmy inquired, “in which they’ll drown?”
    “Zionist blood! What else?”
    “You mean Jewish blood?”
    “No!” Redhead Dan stepped back, his fists clenched as if he was about to attack. “ Zionist blood! Zionists are Goyim!”
    “But according to Talmud every child of a Jewish mother is a Jew. Even a Jew who converts to Christianity remains a Jew. So how could Zionists become Gentiles?”
    Redhead Dan glared at Lemmy. “Don’t you hate the Zionists?”
    “Hate is a sin. Rabbi Akivah said, Love your fellow Jew as you love yourself .”
    Benjamin said, “Come on, who has energy to hate the Zionists before breakfast?”
    “Heretics aren’t Jews!” Redhead Dan poked Lemmy’s chest with his finger. “We must stone them to death at the city gates. It’s written!”
    “A lot of things are written.” Lemmy left them and entered the main sanctuary. Benjamin followed him to their bench, and they joined the rest of the men in chanting Adon Olam , Master of the Universe .
    When the chanting ended, Rabbi Gerster walked up to the elevated dais in the center and recited the first Blessing of Dawn: “ Greatness to You, Master of the Universe, for giving the rooster eyesight to know day from night. ”
    The men repeated after Rabbi Gerster, and he continued to the next blessing, “ For not making me a Gentile.”
    They recited the line.
    Benjamin whispered, “What’s gotten into you?”
    Lemmy shrugged, repeating the next blessing, “ Greatness to You, Master of the Universe, for not making me a woman. ”
    “You should be more careful,” Benjamin whispered, “Redhead Dan is crazy.”
    “What, he’ll smash my face with a brick?”
    Benjamin grinned. “Only if you perform an abortion.”
    E lie Weiss watched Tanya exit the main gate of the IDF headquarters. His Citroën’s two-stroke engine idled noisily. He was parked under a large eucalyptus tree on Kiryat Shaul Street, waiting for her after the strategy conference. She headed north toward the bus station. It was a busy morning, with many soldiers and civilians on their way to work. She walked fast in sensible shoes, blue pants, and a beige