Book Excerpts

Please enjoy this brief excerpt from the Prophetess.

Chapter 1

When I was a little girl, my grandfather would visit us on Friday nights. After dinner, my father and older sister, Beth, would disappear to their rooms, but Mom would hover in the kitchen, washing dishes, listening.

By the light of the candles my mother had lit, Zaide taught me Jewish wisdom. The Hebrew alphabet. Simple prayers. Hebrew words: Shabbat for Sabbath. Shalom for peace. Siddur for prayerbook. Hashem for G-d. He would never even spell out the full English word, so as not to risk taking His name in vain.

Stroking his white beard, Zaide told me about the town he had escaped before the Nazis came, where his grandfather was a great rabbi. His magical tales included holy people who spoke directly to their Creator, asking for wisdom, protection from plagues or favor in the eyes of the government. In these stories, there was always a happy ending. G-d and His people always prevailed.

The silent end to his stories was never spoken—how in the great fire of the Holocaust, Zaide’s entire world of Jewish Europe was swept away.

The morning he died, my mother stroked my forehead with the tips of her fingers, waking me. “Rachel,” she said, in her gentlest voice. I saw the expression on her face and knew he was gone.

Zaide was 87 years old, exactly 70 years older than me. He went peacefully, in his sleep. I guess I imagined he would always be there, walking more than a mile to our house on Saturday afternoons in his black hat and buttoned white shirt. He often frowned to find us using the dishwasher or the television, but still sat in the corner armchair as Mom brought him a cup of juice and a plate of cookies. He made loud, clear blessings in Hebrew over the food, not so much for himself, it seemed, but in the hope I might imbibe some Jewish tradition through osmosis.

Next to him in my shorts and T-shirt, I felt at least a world away. Still, his presence mattered to me. I loved the stories, the questions, the ancient Jewish traditions he shared. I was a Jew, if not a particularly good one. This man was my single link to a chain that connected me back to Abraham.