Free The Spinoza Problem by Irvin D. Yalom Page A

think such thoughts and to believe that you are the only one. To feel alone in your doubt. That must be terrifying.”
    Franco hastened on. “There is something more, another more terrible thought. I keep thinking that for this madness my father sacrificed his life.
For this madness he endangered all of us—me, his own parents, my mother, my brother, my sisters.”
    Jacob could not restrain himself. Stepping closer and bending his huge head to Franco’s ear, he said, not unkindly, “Perhaps the father knows more than the son.”
    Franco shook his head, opened his mouth, but then said nothing.
    “And think, too,” Jacob went on, “of how your words make your father’s death meaningless. To think such thoughts truly makes his death a wasted death. He died to keep the faith sacred for you.”
    Franco appeared beaten and bowed his head.
    Bento knew he had to intervene. First, he turned to Jacob and said softly, “Only a moment ago you pleaded with Franco to speak his mind. Now that he finally does as you ask, is it not better to encourage him rather than to silence him?”
    Jacob took a half step backward. Bento continued addressing Franco in the same serene voice, “What a dilemma for you, Franco: Jacob claims that if you don’t believe things you find unbelievable, then you’ve made your father’s martyrdom a wasted death. And who would want to harm his own father? So many obstacles to thinking for yourself. So many obstacles to perfecting ourselves by using our God-given ability to reason.”
    Jacob shook his head. “Wait, wait—that last part about God-given ability to reason? That’s not what I said. You’re twisting things. You talk about reason? I’ll show you reason. Use your common sense. Open your eyes. I want you to compare! Look at Franco. He suffers, he weeps, he grovels, he despairs. You see him?”
    Bento nodded.
    “And now look at me. I am strong. I love life. I take care of him. I rescued him from the Inquisition. I am sustained by my faith and by the embrace of my fellow Jews. I am comforted by the knowledge that our people and our tradition continue. Compare the two of us with your precious reason, and tell me, wise man , what reason concludes.”
    False ideas offer false and fragile comfort , thought Bento. But he held his tongue.
    Jacob pressed harder. “And apply that to yourself, as well, scholar. What are we, what are you, without our community, without our tradition? Can you live wandering the earth alone? I hear you take no wife. What kind of life can you have without people? Without family? Without God?”

    Bento, who always avoided conflict, felt shaken by Jacob’s invective.
    Jacob turned to Franco and gentled his voice. “You will feel sustained as I do when you know the words and the prayers, when you understand what things mean.”
    “With that statement I agree,” said Bento, attempting to placate Jacob, who had been glowering at him. “Bewilderment adds to your state of shock, Franco. Every Marrano who leaves Portugal is disoriented, has to be newly educated to become a Jew again, has to start like a child and learn the aleph, bet, gimmel . For three years I assisted the rabbi in Hebrew courses for Marranos, and I assure you that you will learn quickly.”
    “No,” insisted Franco, now resembling the resistant Franco whom Bento had seen through the window. “Neither you , Jacob Mendoza, nor you , Bento Spinoza, listen to me. Once again I tell you, It is not the language . I know no Hebrew, but this morning at the synagogue, all through the service, I read the Spanish translation of the holy Torah. It is full of miracles. God divides the Red Sea; He assails the Egyptians with afflictions; He speaks disguised as a burning bush. Why do all the miracles happen then , in the age of the Torah? Tell me, both of you, why is the miracle season over? Has the mighty, all-powerful God gone to sleep? Where was that God when my father was burned at the stake? And for what reason?