Free The Ascent of Eli Israel by Dara Horn Jonathan Papernick Page A

by thin wisps of smoke that rose into the sky like floating Hebrew letters. The sun was already high enough in the sky to bleach all of the stone buildings a harsh, luminous white. There was not a shadow in sight.
    The streets of Mea Shearim bustled as usual, as bearded, hat-wearing men dressed in customary black hurried back and forth on their way to or from prayer. Their wives in kerchiefs and long dresses, some pregnant, some not, dragged strollers piled high with children and bags from the market.
    The rebbe smiled at a pair of passing men whose noses were buried in prayer books. “Isn’t it wonderful,” the rebbe said. “Jews everywhere.”
    â€œIt is wonderful,” the doctor said, suddenly beaming.
    â€œTell me,” the rebbe said. “How does a Gentile find himself living in Jerusalem.”
    â€œI came to be here for the millennium.”
    â€œThe millennium?” the rebbe said, confused.
    â€œThe year two thousand,” the doctor said, ushering the rebbe out of one of the neighborhood’s many gates.
    â€œOh-ho,” the rebbe said, laughing. “Two thousand years since . . . It is funny, it must be ten years since I have seen your calendar. For us, for Jews, it is the year fifty-seven sixty.”
    â€œAnd your Messiah has still not arrived.”
    â€œToday,” the rebbe said. “I am absolutely sure he will arrive today. I have been absolutely sure of that every day for the last sixty-three years. If not today, then tomorrow, which when it arrives,” the rebbe said in a singsong manner, “will be today.”
    â€œTell me, what will happen when your Messiah comes?”
    â€œOf course, the Temple will be rebuilt. And we will have a King of Israel at last, and the entire world will be full of the knowledge of the Lord,” the rebbe said nonchalantly. “And yours?”
    â€œExactly the same,” the doctor said. “It is written that the Lord Jesus Christ will return to a hill east of Jerusalem and redeem the world.”
    â€œAnd how will you know it is him?” the rebbe said.
    â€œI will look at his hands and at his side, and see if the scars are there. And if there are scars — ”
    â€œEnough,” the rebbe said, laughing. “Enough of this. Let’s turn around. I’m tired of walking today.”
    They stopped just short of the walls of the Old City, near Damascus Gate, where the doctor offered him a sip of his water. The rebbe was sweating in streams, and gulped down most of the bottle. The sun was still directly above their heads, and felt to the rebbe as if a thousand-pound weight were on his shoulders. They began slowly walking back up the sloping hill.
    â€œDo you know there is a way to walk all around Jerusalem without walking up a hill?” the rebbe said.
    â€œAnd have you found that way?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œTake off your coat and hat. It is too hot for you to wear wool on a day like this.”
    â€œBut I always wear this,” the rebbe said, refusing to remove his heavy wool coat. “I have worn it for hundreds of years.”
    The next morning, Sarah waited until the rebbe had finished his prayers.
    â€œIsrael,” she said. “Nobody has seen Yitzchak for days. Do you know where he is?”
    The rebbe was in a foul mood as he unwound the tefillin from his aching arm. Aside from his back still aching, now the muscles of his legs were sore. “What, am I Yitzchak’s keeper? Do I know where he is every minute of the day? He is a young man, so he is out praying. Maybe he went to Shchem, maybe he went to Hevron. His cousin is living there.”
    â€œBut nobody has seen him,” Sarah said. “Nobody knows where he is. We must find him. Last week a yeshiva boy from Sanhedria was found stabbed in the street.”
    â€œAll right, all right, wife, I will call Schmuelik, I will call Reuven, I’ll call everybody. We will turn the world over, if