| |
Despite Raizy Waxman’s bad leg, she managed to keep pace alongside the short, young Rebbetzin leading the group of wives and daughters trailing behind the men on Saturday.
She admired the Rebbetzin’s long blonde hair despite knowing it must be a wig. She’d been living in Ultra-Orthodox communities long enough to know that married women cover their real hair.
Before them a sea of furry shtreimels and black hats bobbed back and forth atop the heads of the mass of men and boys trailing behind their leader, the Sopoynik Rebbe. They followed the Rebbe to his home on Mozart after Shabbos morning prayers to join him for lunch.
Somewhere in that blob of furry and black hats was Raizy’s son.
So far, none of the Sopoynik Rebbe’s followers– his Chassidim, expressed the slightest suspicion of their secret.
The peaceful early afternoon sunshine was occasionally disrupted by a passing car of gawkers taking in the strange bunch.
They were all making their way to eat the Shabbos lunch meal at the Rebbe’s tish – the Rebbe’s table.
When they arrived Raizy followed the women into the commercial sized kitchen while the men lingered in the oversized dining room housing a long table covered with a white tablecloth embroidered with Shabbos images—candlesticks, challah breads, wine bottles, and goblets.
Three large crystal chandeliers cast reflections off the silver pieces on the table.
At the far end of the table Raizy spotted a fringed silk cover barely hiding two large challah breads resting on a wooden cutting board. Next to that was a large glass salt shaker with a silver top, a bottle of wine, and a huge silver goblet etched with images of grape clusters.
Raizy watched from the kitchen doorway and noticed the Rebbe had his left hand curled up into his sleeve hiding his fingers from sight.
The Rebbetzin approached Raizy from behind, and whispered, “My husband was born with only three fingers on that hand. His father was the previous Rebbe. When he emigrated from the European town of Sopoynik his chassidim followed him here to Chicago. When he died my husband was just a young boy. The logical choice to succeed him was his older brother. But his father proclaimed from his deathbed that my husband’s missing fingers were a sign from God that he should be the one to lead.
“His brother was furious, but eventually seemed to accept the situation. That’s why he hides his fingers—to avoid flaunting the reason for his brother’s misfortune.”
When the Rebbe moved to sit at the head of the table the men swarmed to grab the nearest open seat.
Raizy watched intently as the Rebbe’s gabbai—his personal assistant, decanted the wine into the large silver goblet and placed the goblet into the Rebbe’s open right palm.
The Rebbe steadied the goblet with the hand hidden in his left sleeve, and raised it slightly.
The noisy crowd hushed.
The Rebbe sang the Shabbos Kiddush blessing while shuckling—rhythmically swaying forward and backward. The men surrounding the table fell into similar rhythmic sways, and replied omein in unison after he concluded.
The Rebbe took a sip of the wine, and handed the goblet to his gabbai who poured the remaining wine into the wide opening of a large silver vessel with multiple tiny spouts positioned above shot glass sized silver cups. The wine immediately flowed from the large vessel into each of the cups.
The gabbai handed the tiny cups one-by-one to the man next to him who reserved the first one for himself, and passed along the others.
The men stood, and headed into the kitchen to wash their hands. They lined up and took turns filling a large, antique, hammered bronze washing cup adorned with floral designs, and ritually pouring water over their right and left hands three times.
One by one they dryed their hands and shuckeled while reciting the blessing for spiritually cleansing their hands before touching bread.
Meanwhile, some of the women hustled to collect the goblet, wine, and all the tiny silver cups from the dining room table.
Raizy stood to follow and help, but the Rebbetzin put her hand on Raizy’s shoulder. “Sit,” she said. “Let the girls do that. You’re our special guest.”
Raizy and her son truly were special guests, but she wondered if the Rebbetzin said that because she noticed her struggling with her bad leg, or because she knew her secret.
When the men finished washing and returned to their seats the Rebbe removed the fringed silk challah cover to reveal two huge braided loaves of challah bread.
The gabbai helped him lift the two loaves until he balanced them between his good hand and the one hidden in his sleeve.
The Rebbe recited the blessing for bread in a sing-song voice, and then handed the loaves to his gabbai.
The gabbai carved the challah breads up on a large silver tray, sprinkled salt over the carnage, and let the Rebbe partake before passing the tray along for each man to take a piece.
Meanwhile, the women busied themselves preparing small plates of gefilte fish garnished with cooked onions and a single carrot slice.
The gabbai enlisted two men to serve the fish which the hungry crowd quickly devoured.
They passed their plates to the end of the table along with their fish forks to be collected and removed before the meat courses were served.
Raizy knew meat and dairy needed to be separated in a kosher home, but she was surprised the first time she saw fish being kept separate as well.
The men enjoyed a main course of piping hot cholent, kishka, and a fresh salad, in the dining room while the women enjoyed the same at a large table in the kitchen.
Raizy enjoyed the heartwarming aroma of the food almost as much as the taste.
The Rebbetzin insisted Raizy sit right beside her, and made her feel like family.
They could see the Rebbe sitting at the far end of the dining room table.
Raizy noticed the Rebbe and the Rebbetzin exchange frequent loving looks.
She spotted her son sitting amongst the men.
He seemed to be fitting in well.
While the men filled their bellies the dining room buzzed with the loud clamor of Yiddish banter, laughter, and an occasional utensil clink.
The gabbai motioned to the crowd who reacted with hushed words followed by abrupt silence.
The Rebbe stood, and began to speak.
He explained that for the sake of their special guests he would speak in English instead of Yiddish.
He spoke about Parshas Zachor—the Torah portion that had been read aloud during morning prayers.
“God commanded us to remember how the people of Amalek tried to kill us after we left Egypt.
“Even today there are those who plan to harm us. We must remain vigilant to stop them before they can act.”
Raizy once again spotted her son, and caught his eye.
They exchanged knowing glances.