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How About You?

HOW ABOUT YOU?
Mike Cunningham
February 8, 2015

In the preface of the outstanding inspiring novel we have been looking at for the past few weeks, and the excerpts I have cited, the author tells his readers that:

This story is fictional. The characters in the story are also fictional, and any similarity to persons living or dead is coincidental.

The author does feel, however, that what takes place in this book could very easily happen in real life.

I don’t know about you but I’m having a hard time understanding how he could make such a statement. For instance, here’s another excerpt to consider.

Aaron arrived promptly at six-thirty that evening, and Joshua was ready. His hair was neatly combed, with the semblance of a part on the left side, though his hair was too free to tolerate a perfect part. He had washed and pressed his pants and shirt, so he looked neat. He also wore a light sweater vest, which one of the women in the patch of houses on the back road had knit for him. It was brown, like the rest of his clothes, so he looked presentable, though no match for the elegantly dressed people who had picked up the statue earlier in the day. He was clearly a poor person by worldly standards. The sandal’s he wore were also plain but sturdily constructed to give good support to his feet.

Aaron parked in front of Joshua’s cottage, right in front of the gate. As Joshua walked toward the car Aaron got out and met him on the sidewalk. He shook his hand and opened the door for him. Joshua seemed a little embarrassed by all the fuss, but accepted it graciously. It was a good twenty-minute ride to the synagogue, which was located in the city, but they had plenty of time to arrive before the service started.

It was a few minutes before seven when they got there. Aaron parked the car and the two men walked to the building together. They were cordially greeted by an usher who offered Joshua a yarmulke. He placed it on his head while the usher talked to Aaron. Aaron was obviously quite active in the congregation, which was clear from the greetings he got as he entered the vestibule.
Aaron introduced Joshua proudly as a friend and the artist who carved the figure of Moses for the hall-and half-jokingly, as a potential member of the congregation. Everyone greeted him warmly.

Since it was almost time for the service to begin, Aaron brought Joshua into the synagogue proper. As Aaron had duties to perform, he asked Joshua if he would mind sitting by himself until he got back. He didn’t mind at all. In fact, he felt right at home.

As soon as the rabbi entered, everyone stood and the service began. The rabbi welcomed everyone, especially guests from out of town, and in particular the special person who had designed the beautiful work of art for the congregation. A couple of people not too far from Joshua looked over at him and smiled warmly. Joshua blushed.

He became totally absorbed in the service, thoroughly enjoying the singing of the hymns, the psalms, which were so familiar and so precious to him. Being by himself, his voice stood out as he prayed unashamedly and sang with all his heart. He was not embarrassed or self-conscious, and when a few heads turned to see whose voice it was, he didn’t even notice. His voice was a rich and mellow baritone, hearty and full of enthusiasm.

When the service ended and everyone filed into the vestibule on their way downstairs, a few people came over to Joshua and told him how much they enjoyed his singing during the service. Joshua was really embarrassed but managed to thank them, blushing all the while. He didn’t realize he was singing so loudly, he said. They told him he needn’t apologize his voice was beautiful.

In the vestibule the four people who had been at Joshua’s house earlier in the day found him in the crowd and came over to rescue him. He was easy to pick out, everyone around him was well-dressed, while he looked like he just came in from the fields; and even though he had washed and pressed his clothes, he still was not what one would call elegant. In fact, he looked rather pathetic, though it didn’t seem to bother him. He was not at all self-conscious about how he looked. No one seemed to care anyway. He was accepted for what he was and not for what he wore. And he was clearly a highly gifted individual who had a lot to give people. Those who knew him and grew close to him were proud of his friendship and cared little for what he wore. Besides, people were used to artists. They all seemed to dress strangely, so what he wore seemed quite normal for an artist. As a matter of fact, no one paid much attention to what he was wearing anyway. They were curious to see the sculpture, about which they had heard rumors all afternoon over the telephone.

Joshua’s four companions flanked him as they walked downstairs together, telling him how impressed the rabbi was when he saw the figure. They were sure the congregation would love it.

When they entered the large hall they immediately
Spotted a group of people standing up front. In front of them was the figure of Moses, as if speaking to the crowd watching him gesticulating and urging them with all the force of his mighty personality. As Joshua and his friends walked closer they could hear the comments. “What a powerful work of art!” “Do you think they really gave him as hard a time as his face betrays?” I have no doubt they did. He was forever calling them names, like ‘stiff-necked,’ and ‘hard-headed,’ and ‘rebellious.’ He certainly doesn’t look too patient a person from that statue.”

The social committee had put out coffee, tea, and pastries on several tables in the room. The crowd began making its way toward the food while some stayed on to look at the sculpture. At that point the rabbi came in with two women who were talking excitedly about something. One of the women, a Mrs. Cohen, was telling the rabbi she had been sitting near the visiting artist and had heard him singing his prayers and singing the hymns in Hebrew. The rabbi was skeptical, but the woman insisted and her friend agreed with her.

The rabbi tactfully ended the discussion by saying, “Perhaps he is Jewish. One never knows. If he is, I’ll find out discreetly.” That seemed to satisfy the women, and they settled down to a more relaxed dialogue as they walked closer to the statue.

As they approached Lester walked over to the rabbi, gently took him by the arm, and led him over to Joshua. The rabbi’s face showed excitement, a departure from his normal composure. He had been pleased with the figure since he had first seen it earlier in the day, though he was overwhelmed with the power of the piece and did not miss the unambiguous directness of the message it conveyed. He could see it was not merely a representation of history, but carried a profound message to the modern Jewish community. He felt proud that the figure belonged to his congregation, and although some criticized him for erecting a “graven image,” even in the social hall, he felt the figure’s powerful message more than justified his decision. But as proud as he was of the statue, he did feel a certain annoyance, and, indeed, embarrassment, that the statue should be delivering a message to his people and not just representing a plea to the ancients. However, his people were no different from the Hebrews of old, and they, too, needed strong messages from above. Thinking of these things, the rabbi began to see in the statue all the messages he should have delivered but was afraid to, and his original annoyance over the statue’s message was replaced with gratitude to the artist. At least by commissioning the artist the rabbi said through the artist’s hands all the things he felt God wanted him to say. And his conscience felt soothed.

“Rabbi Szeneth,” Lester said, “this is Joshua, the artist who carved the figure of Moses for us.” Then, turning to Joshua, he introduced Joshua to their esteemed spiritual leader. The two men shook hands.

“I am deeply grateful to you, Joshua, for the beautiful work of art you have created for our people. And you did create. It is not just a piece of wood, or even just a figure. It speaks loud and clear. I heard the message. I must admit that at first I didn’t like what you said, but as I thought about it, I realized you were saying all the things I should have said but didn’t have the courage to, and I am grateful. It is masterful,” the rabbi said to Joshua.

Thank you, Rabbi. You do me honor,” Joshua said politely, then continued, “I want it to be a permanent testimonial of my love for my people.”

“Your people?” the rabbi asked, surprised, remembering what the two women had been teling him.

“Yes, my people,” Joshua answered, “I love them deeply.”

“You are Jewish, then?” the rabbi asked.

“Yes.”

“Then please come to our synagogue whenever you like and feel at home,” the rabbi said, then quickly added, “I don’t feel so bad now that the message in that figure came from one of our own.”

Joshua chuckled as Rabbi Szeneth and the delegation that accompanied him to the place where the statue was erected so they could all get a closer look. One lady glanced over at Joshua and, suspecting he was the artist, asked coldly, “Are you the artist?”

“Yes, I am,” Joshua responded politely.

“Why does Moses seem so insistent? He looks almost desperate in his frustration.”

“He was, after all, only a human,” Joshua replied courtesy, “and when you think of the task he had to accomplish, and the obstacles he faced daily for forty years, he couldn’t have been any other way. What he endured would have broken a lesser man, so just looking frustrated isn’t too unrealistic an expression, do you think?”

“I guess not, but it makes me feel uncomfortable when you analyze it.”

“Is that bad?” Joshua asked.
“Perhaps not, but when I look at a work of art I like to enjoy it.”

“I’m afraid many of our people are picking up the same impression I did,” the rabbi said. “It certainly is not going to be ignored or be treated as just a decoration. And maybe it will be a constant sermon to all of us when we are tempted to stray from God’s law.”

By nine-thirty the social hour began to break up. Aaron came over to Joshua and asked him if he was ready to leave.

“I think so,” Joshua replied, and the two men started to leave, saying good-by to various people as they walked toward the front exit.

“What did you think of our congregation?” Aaron asked Joshua when they were leaving the parking lot.

“They seem like a friendly community,” Joshua answered.

“Were you pleased with their response to your sculpture?”

“Yes, their reactions varied, as I thought they would. But I wanted to leave a lasting impression for everyone. It is difficult, Aaron, for people to think in spiritual terms. The world of the senses is so vivid and so real. The world of the spirit is real to God, perhaps, but to human beings it is hard to believe it even exists. For someone to talk about it makes people feel uncomfortable, yet it is important that they be reminded of the spiritual world.”

Aaron listened as Joshua spoke. He was captivated by what Joshua said, but also by the calmness of his manner. He wasn’t critical of human behavior, but spoke as if the world of the spirit was very real to him. He moved with such ease through an area of thought that was a tangled jungle for most human minds. He let Joshua continue without even asking questions as he drove his luxurious automobile through the city streets and out into the country roads toward Auburn. The road looked like a long tunnel as the headlights cast beams far ahead under perfectly arched tree limbs.

The night was quiet. A cool breeze swept across the countryside as they drove along with open windows to breathe in the fresh air. Aaron was silent. Only Joshua spoke. Aaron was a worldly man, and Joshua mystified him. Aaron’s father owned a steel factory, and Aaron, since childhood, had spent most of his time around the plant. Now he was president. His father had retired over a year ago and placed his son in charge of the whole operation. Aaron was a kind person; he spent much of his free time helping the rabbi with the many administrative chores around the synagogue. He was not a particularly spiritual man but donated money to various charities. His fascination with Joshua came from his inability to understand a man with the intelligence of Joshua who walked through life as if material things were worthless. He knew Joshua could have any position in life he set his mind to. But he was content being simple and having practicality nothing in the way of worldly goods. This confused Aaron, who was taught at an early age the value of material things. He had position, bank accounts, stocks, real estate investments, and a happy family life, all that is very important to a man.

Joshua confused him because he had none of these things and didn’t even seem interested in them. And yet he was happy and peaceful, which Aaron was not. Underneath all the material bliss and the good life he was living, there was an emptiness, a gnawing void that gave him no rest. His money and investments were like a child playing monopoly. It was a game that fascinated him, and which, at one time, was exciting but now bored him. In quiet, lonely moments the thought that that was all there was to life frightened him. Perhaps this was why he enjoyed being with Joshua. He felt a certain peace when he was with him and a calming serenity that he could not find elsewhere. Aaron wished that he could be like Joshua. He wished he had his peace. He felt good and clean inside, as if walking through a new atmosphere with a rarified enriched environment.

“Joshua,” Aaron finally said, breaking the long silence, “How did you become the way you are? Who taught you all the things you believe in?”

“Why do you ask?” Joshua questioned curiously.
“Because I can’t understand how anyone could develop the vision of life that you have. It is so foreign to my way of thinking and so different from the thinking of everybody I know.”

“I experience what I believe, Aaron, so that I know that what I believe is true.”
“What do you mean you experience it?” How come I don’t experience it?

“Each person looks at life through a different vision. Three men can look at a tree. One man will see so many board feet of valuable lumber worth so much money. The second man will see it as so much firewood to be burned, to keep his family warm in the winter. The third man will see it as a masterpiece of God’s creative art, given to man as an expression of God’s love and enduring strength, with a value far beyond its worth in money and firewood. What we live for determines what we see in life and gives clear focus to our inner vision.”

“Who taught you to think that way?”
“It is what I see. You could see it too, if you could detach yourself from the things you were taught to value. They do not give you peace, nor do they give you lasting satisfaction. They leave you empty and a longing for something more.”
“That’s true, how do you know?”
“I know how man was made and understand what he really needs if he is to grow and find peace.”
“Joshua, you are a strange man, but I really feel close to you. I would like to have you as a friend.”
“I am honored, and I will treasure your friendship.”

They had already arrived at the village. Aaron turned down Main Street toward Joshua’s cottage. The streetlights were partially hidden in the foliage and the village looked quaint, like part of another age. The shadows hid from view all the modern additions to the village, showing only the shapes of buildings, as they must have looked two hundred years before. There was a loneness to the setting and Aaron felt sorry for Joshua, living alone in the midst of everybody else’s world but not being a part of all the joys and heartaches of family life. He couldn’t help but feel alone.
I love this story and a number of you folks have told me that you do too. However, remember what I said earlier when I cited the authors claim that:

“This story is fictional. The characters in the story are also fictional, and any similarity to persons living or dead is coincidental.

The author does feel, however, that what takes place in this book could very easily happen in real life.”

I don’t know about you but I’m having a hard time understanding how he could make such a statement. How About You?”

Lord willing, next week….

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Joshua, © 1983, 1987 by Joseph F. Girzone, published by Touchstone, Rockefeller Center, 1230 Avenue of the Americas. First Touchstone edition 2003

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February 8, 2015 Posted by Categories: Stories 3 comments

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