Free Splendor by Elana K. Arnold

extraordinary—that give me comfort.”
    “Like what?”
    “He was—at best—a mediocre baseball player. It was my favorite sport growing up, so naturally when I was blessed with a son I envisioned teaching him how to pitch, the two of us playing catch. But it seems not all of a man’s dreams are meant to be manifested.”
    “Let me guess…he hated it?”
    “Not exactly. He kept asking me—over and over—why we were throwing a ball back and forth. What was the point? Who said that this activity should be fun? Who made the rules for baseball? And why? As long as I kept answering his questions, Will was perfectly willing to humor me, but it was clear that that was exactly what he was doing. He’d throw a few balls, catch a few pitches, then he’d drift off, staring at a bird or kicking at the leaves at his feet. He wasn’t terrible. He wasn’t great. Just average.”
    I found this hard to believe. I couldn’t think of anything about Will that was “just average.” Certainly not his kissing. But then I remembered the way he danced—not terribly, but not great, either.
    It felt strange to think about Will in a way that didn’t idealize him. And it was weird too to hear Martin focusing on his son’s weaknesses rather than his strengths.
    This must have shown on my face, because Martin said, “You know, Scarlett, none of us is perfect.”
    “Not me, that’s for sure,” I said.
    “None of us. Perfect heroes—they’re the stuff of myths and legends. Of biblical stories.”
    Even though I knew Martin wasn’t necessarily the most devout of men, it was still strange to hear a
rabbi
lump people from the Bible in with myths and legends.
    “The Torah,” Martin went on, “what Christians call the Old Testament, is full of superheroes and supervillains. Everyone in it is there for a purpose—everyone has a metaphorical job to fill. Take Abraham. Do you know about Abraham?”
    I shook my head.
    “The father of the Jews. According to our story, it’s Abraham we have to thank for our covenant with God. You see, Abraham’s father—like most of the people of his time—worshipped a series of idols, praying to this one for rain and that one for sun, and so on. But Abraham felt this was wrong. It seemed clear to him that there could only be one true God, one creator.
Ein Sof.
And so he formed a covenant with God—he would leave his family, his people, his home…and God would build him a great nation and bless him. Abraham was unshakable in his faith, even going so far as to be circumcised at the age of ninety-nine to seal the covenant.”
    Gruesome. “He sounds devoted,” I managed to say.
    “Exactly,” said Martin, pleased. “He was a superman of his day. Unwavering faith. Absolute devotion. Unquestioning obedience.”
    “Is that a good thing?”
    “That, my dear, is a very modern question.”
    “Well, I don’t think it’s so great,” I said. “What about Socrates? Questioning authority?”
    “A good point,” Martin said. “What do you think?”
    “I think unquestioning obedience is dangerous.”
    He nodded. “So does Will. Will has many qualities that mark him as un-Abraham-like.”
    “Such as?”
    “God was fond of testing Abraham’s loyalty. He told Abraham that he wanted him to sacrifice his son, Isaac. Abraham prepared the altar.”
    “He
killed
his
son
?”
    “No, no. At the last moment an angel appeared and stopped him. A ram was sacrificed in Isaac’s place.”
    “Yeah, I can’t see Will sacrificing anyone he loves, not for any reason.”
    As I spoke, I remembered last spring, when Will had stopped calling me. It was after he’d learned that his mother had purposefully positioned her car to save the life of a pregnant woman who was about to be struck by another vehicle. A noble sacrifice…except her husband and son had been in the car with her. Neither of them had been badly hurt, but they could have been. Will didn’t ever want to be in that situation—forced to choose