Destined to Choose

a Rabbi David Cohen novel

Sheyna Galyan

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ST

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D T

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ESH

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LYAN

“Accessible to people from diff erent backgrounds, relevant for both Jewish and non-Jewish readers, this book is indeed insightful and deceptively easy to read. It is also fun.”

—Amy Ariel, author of Friends Forever

“...brilliantly written. Author Sheyna Galyan has done an amazing job of integrating everyday Jewish life with a great meaty story. The depth of this novel is exceptional; the education in Jewish life and customs, mixed with fabulous, multi-layered character developement, make this an important novel for readers of all faiths.”

—Ellen Stanclift, MA Theology

“Ms. Galyan gives her readers plenty of food for thought in the course of the book. The story and and the thoughtful way in which the author and her characters wrestle with some serious issues make Destined to Choose a worthwhile and enjoyable read.”

— L. S. Jaszczak— L. S. Jaszczak

Sheyna Galyan has worked as a counselor, consultant, lecturer, journalist, and Jewish educator. She lives with her husband and children in the Twin Cities, where she is currently at work on the next Rabbi David Cohen novel. Visit her at BooksAndBeliefs.blogspot.com or at sheynagalyan.com.

Photo: Lisa Schaefer

MYSTERY / SUSPENSE

When a college freshman’s philosophy paper on the Holocaust jeopardizes her relationship with her grandfather, she fi nds herself alone and afraid on the streets of Minneapolis. Help comes in the form of Rabbi David Cohen, who is struggling with his own personal demons. Trained in both psychology and Talmudic argument, David must help this family face the real issue that divides them. Set against the backdrop of a Jewish holiday of mourning, they bring together their experiences as they confront evil itself and answer a cry for help that no one expected.

ISBN 9781592870196 US$12.95

DESTINED TO CHOOSE

Sheyna Galyan

Yotzeret PublishingSt. Paul

Th is is a work of fi ction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fi ctitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Destined to Choose. Copyright © 2013 by Sheyna D. Galyan. All rights reserved. Originally published by Yaldah Publishing in 2003. Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address Yotzeret Publishing, PO Box 18662, St. Paul, MN 55118. http://yotzeretpublishing.com

Th e tzaddi logo is a registered trademark of Yotzeret Publishing, Inc.

Cover photo of Minneapolis skyline ©iStockphoto.com/AndreyKravCover photo of hand holding Star of David ©iStockphoto.com/tovfl a

While every eff ort has been made to provide accurate Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assume any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Galyan, Sheyna D. Destined to choose / Sheyna Galyan. p. cm. ISBN 978-1-59287-019-6 (pbk.) ISBN 978-1-59287-317-3 (epub) ISBN 978-1-59287-318-0 (Kindle) Series : A Rabbi David Cohen novel

1. Rabbis--Fiction. 2. Judaism--Customs and practices--Fiction. 3. Judaism --Fiction. 4. College students --Fiction. 5. Holocaust survivors--Fiction. 6. Suspense fi ction. 7. Minneapolis (Minn.)--Fiction. I. Series. II. Title.

PS3607.A427 D47 2013813.6 --dc23 2003100320

For all the rabbispast and present

who have challenged us to live Jewish livesin the face of countless adversities.

And for all the victims and survivors of the Shoah:your stories have changed ussignifi cantly and permanently.

May we always remember your experiencesand your contributions.

Acknowledgments

No book can be written completely alone, and no life can be changed in isolation. The following people have helped in both respects, and I wish to take a moment to give them due credit.

I would especially like to thank Rabbi Morris Allen, Rabbi Elka Abrahamson, Rabbi Yosi Gordon, Rabbi Danny Pressman, and Dave Schwartz for sharing their thoughts, encouragement and wisdom, as well as for taking my challenges seriously and being willing to argue the more diffi cult issues with me.

I want to acknowledge with great fondness the old Jewish Studies Conference on eWorld (later thriving on the Internet through Seed House/B’nai Avraham), my old Derech Torah class, the Tuesday Noon Torah Study Group, and the Parshat HaShavua Study Group, without whose help my communal learning experiences would be incomplete.

I also want to thank Jim Wilson at the University of California, Santa Cruz, who gave me the encouragement to tackle this subject in the fi rst place.

The Minneapolis and Saint Paul Police Departments were of invaluable assistance, and answered many of my questions while remaining good-natured about my need to take some creative liberties. I am also grateful for the generosity of the First Universalist Church in Minneapolis, Minnesota, for taking me on a detailed tour of what would become the fi ctional Beth Israel synagogue (and was the former nonfi ctional Adath Jeshurun building).

Several people helped with the editing of this manuscript, and their suggestions made this a much better book: Ben Cohen, Dick Cordes, Jonathan Ehrlich, and Arielle Ehrlich. In particular, I want to thank Tricia Lawrence for her editing suggestions, questions, entertaining feedback in the margins, support, and mostly for believing in me.

Many others have made additional contributions: Rabbi Amy Eilberg for information on pastoral counseling; Amy Olson and Rabbi Sharon Stiefel for my home away from home at Hillel House; Ronit Ron, Carmit Harari, and Adi Grinfeld for an amazing year of Hebrew and insights into Israeli culture that I otherwise would have missed; Wendy Schwartz, Barb Skochil, and Susie Drazen for wonderful models of how synagogue

administration can run; and the students at Hillel House at the University of Minnesota in 1998-2000 for their outpouring of support and the courage of their convictions.

Thanks are also due to those who supported me from near and far, giving me encouragement on those days when I didn’t want to write another word: January ‘01 moms, March ‘03 moms, those in FAMdom, and MOMS Club®. If I have inadvertently left anyone out, I off er my sincerest apologies.

I especially want to thank Leslie Martin for her editorial suggestions and encouragement.

Finally, I want to express my deep love and appreciation for my husband Tony, whose encouragement, support, and love kept me going through many dark nights. It was not easy to give birth to this book while also welcoming two children into the world, and I am indebted to all who made both possible. Aten hamishpacha hachi tovah! Todah rabah!

Sheyna Galyan16 July 200316 Tamuz 5763

A Note on the 2013 Revision:

It’s been an amazing ten years since this book fi rst came out, fi lled with experiences with readers like you who have shared how much this book meant to them. More than a few decided to start attending shul or church again. I am sincerely humbled that this book could have that impact, and I will always be grateful for you, the reader.

I am putting the fi nal touches on the second book in this series—Strength to Stand—and I promise not to wait ten years before writing another!

Sheyna Galyan21 June 201313 Tamuz 5773

{rah--taw \ymch-ta \wyh \kb ytduhhllqhw hkrbh ]ynpl yttn twmhw \yyjh

;]urzw hta hyjt }uml \yyjb trjbwwlqb uymcl ]yqla yh-ta hbhal]ymy ]raw ]yyj awh yk wb-hqbdlw

k-fy:l \yrbd

I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse; therefore choose life, that you may live, you and your descendants,to love HaShem your God, to listen to God’s voiceand to cling to God, for that is your life and the length of your days

Deuteronomy 30:19-20

Hebrew Pronunciation Guide

Wherever possible, I have used generally accepted spelling for transliterations. The Hebrew transliterations in this book use a Sephardic pronunciation with the exception of the word “Shabbos,” an Ashkenazic pronunciation of “Shabbat.” Vowels in all other Hebrew words are pronounced according to the following list:

a = ah as in fathere = eh as in eggi = ee as in pitao = oh as in onlyu = oo as in dune

ei or ai = ay as in veinsch = kh as in Bach

In keeping with publishing conventions on the use of foreign words in English language books, the fi rst instance of a Hebrew or Yiddish word will be italicized, but subsequent uses will not, except when entire dialogue is in Hebrew.

A glossary of Hebrew words and phrases used in this novel is included at the end of this book.

ONE

Friday morning, July 21

Rabbi David Cohen threw his pen onto the desk in dis-gust, uttering a few choice words. He had nearly satisfi ed his need to vent with the last expletive when he looked up to see Kristen Ferguson, his secretary, standing frozen at the door. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then stopped.

David fl ashed her an embarrassed smile. “It’s okay, Kristen. I’m done now.”

She raised an eyebrow, her green eyes appraising. “Is this something I should be getting used to?” she asked in her soft Texas accent.

“Only if I have to keep writing sermons.”“I think you write great d’var Torahs.” Kristen smiled and

lowered her voice conspiratorially. “And I’ve been here long enough now, you can use the Hebrew with me.”

David raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I’m impressed; that’s almost perfect. One would be a d’var Torah. More than one are divrei Torah.”

“Okay, so I almost got it.” Kristen gave a half-shrug. “Foreign languages were never my strong point.”

“They’re not easy to write in any language.”“Ah. Well, I’m sorry to break this to you, David, but I think

that’s part of your job.” She glanced at the blank page on his desk. “Wouldn’t it be easier to write if you used a computer?”

David chuckled. “Have you ever seen me type?”“Come to think of it, no.”

Sheyna Galyan2

“There’s a reason for that. Longhand is much faster than these.” He held up his two index fi ngers, stabbing at imaginary keys in the air.

Kristen absently tucked a strand of her copper red hair behind her ear. “But you could learn to type. And you could use a computer for all kinds of things. E-mail with other rabbis, Jewish web sites. You could even create your own web site and publish stuff . Think of all the people you could reach.”

“Hang on,” David cautioned. “I’m a technical neophyte. Besides, there’s no money in the budget for a computer. I’ll just stick to pen and paper. So, what’s up?”

“Mail just arrived. I thought you might want to see this right away.” She handed him a thin white envelope and left his study.

“Thanks,” David called after her, noting the return address. It had to be a decision about the grant proposal he had written for a series of weekend seminars and monthly classes on mitzvot. Approval meant he could present it to the board as a fully-funded package; denial meant stripping the program to a mere skeleton and dealing with board complaints about fi nding the money to pay for it. Steeling himself, he opened the envelope, his stomach tightening in knots. He scanned the letter for the expected ‘we regret to inform you’ and couldn’t fi nd it. After reading it twice, the words began to sink in and he grinned with relief. The grant was approved for even more money than he’d expected.

The intercom buzzer momentarily startled him. “Yes?”Kristen’s voice was slightly muffl ed. “Avram Rosenfeld is on

the phone. He says it’s urgent.”David set down the letter. “I’ll take it, thanks.” He picked

up the phone. “Shalom, Avram, what can I do for you?”“Rabbi, I need to talk with you!” Avram seemed to be

choking on his words. What remained of his German accent made him diffi cult to understand.

“Slow down, Avram. What’s wrong?”“It is my granddaughter, Anna. No, it is not her; it is me.”

He stopped for a moment, catching his breath. “It is my fault she has run away. I do not know whom else to call. I need to fi nd her, to bring her home.”

Destined to Choose 3

David remembered Anna as a shy teenager, overcome with grief when her parents were both killed in a car accident the previous year. He had only seen her once since then, when she attended a Hillel-sponsored discussion he’d led at the nearby University of Minnesota.

“What makes you think she’s run away?”“I am sad to say it, but we were fi ghting. She was angry

when she left, and I have not seen her again. I am afraid it is my fault.”

“Let’s try to fi nd her instead of assigning blame. Is it pos-sible she went over to the university? Or maybe to a friend’s house?”

“She knows no one at the dorms. It is perhaps possible she is at a friend’s home. I am so worried, Rabbi. Minneapolis is not a safe place for a girl like Anna. You must help me fi nd her.”

“I’ll do what I can, Avram.” David tore a blank page from his writing pad and wrote Anna’s name and address on it, adrena-line giving him a rush he found both exciting and disturbing. He asked Avram several questions about Anna’s appearance and current interests, writing the answers down on the page. The overall profi le gave him a sinking feeling.

“Do you have any idea why she might have left?”There was a long silence on the other end. “She left because

of me. Because I told her I did not want her living here any-more. How could I have said such a thing?” Avram’s voice broke. “I cannot live if anything happens to her!”

“I’m sure she’s okay, Avram.” David made sure his own con-cern didn’t reach his voice. “Start from the beginning, and tell me what happened.”

“We had a very big fi ght the day before Yom HaShoah, and it has not been better since. I thought she would get over it, but we keep fi ghting. Then yesterday morning I wake up and fi nd her cooking bacon, which she eats in front of me. It is a slap in my face. Worse, it is a slap in God’s face. I was angry and said many things I should not have said. Then she left for her job at the day care center and I have not seen her again.”

“Have you called the day care center?”“Yes. They said she quit shortly after she came in yesterday.”

Sheyna Galyan4

“What about her friends?” David suggested. “Have you called any of them?”

“Yes. I called her best friend from last year, but she has not seen Anna since they went out last week. I do not have a number for anyone else.”

“Does Anna have an address book?”“Yes! Why did I not think of that? Will you wait for a

moment while I fi nd it?”“Sure.” David thought for a moment about all of the teen-

agers he’d counseled over the years. Anna’s recent history placed her in the high-risk category, and running away wasn’t out of the question.

Avram came back on the line. “I have it here. At least some of her friends are listed in here. I recognize names she has talked about.”

“Okay, Avram. Call her other friends, even her classmates. See if any of them know where she is. It’s very possible she just went somewhere to cool off and let you do the same.”

“Perhaps. And perhaps she will be home tonight. We have a long-standing rule in our house that fi ghts are resolved or at least put aside for Shabbos. She has never missed a Shabbos dinner. But I will call her friends, as you suggest.”

David sensed denial creeping into the older man’s voice. “Good. Let me know what you fi nd out. You can reach me here until about four-thirty, but probably not after that since Shabbat services start tonight at six.”

“I will. I am sure you are right, and I will fi nd her having fun with her friends. Thank you, Rabbi.”

David hung up the phone, pain tugging at his heartstrings. Having lost his own father after many years of illness as a direct result of the Shoah, he always felt a certain kinship with the older man. And the fact that both his father and Avram came from the same area of Germany added another dimension to their relationship with which David wasn’t always comfortable.

He glanced at the clock and drew the curtains of his mind shut against the decades-old memories. Setting aside his con-cern for Anna, he knew there was nothing more he could do until he heard from Avram again.

Destined to Choose 5

He turned back to the d’var Torah he’d been trying to write earlier, picked up a pen and scowled at the paper. After staring at it for several minutes, he shoved it aside again, frustrated, and turned to several other tasks. He reviewed the draft of a bar mitzvah speech, looked up a few sources on conversion that a college student had requested, and drafted a letter to the local Jewish Community Center, confi rming that he’d co-teach an Introduction to Judaism class there.

After a few more unproductive minutes with the blank page, he stood up, stretched to his full six feet, and walked over to the doorway.

Kristen looked up. “Cantor Kaplan called while you were on the phone and wanted to set up a time to talk with you on Monday.”

“Did he leave a number?”“No, he said he’d call back in a little bit. He didn’t want to

interrupt you.”David retrieved his calendar from his study and fl ipped

ahead. “Morning is out—I’m going to need that time for paperwork. Any other time is fi ne. Just let me know so I don’t double-book myself. Did Joel say what it was about?”

“Nope. Just that he wanted to talk to you.” Kristen turned back to her computer and continued typing a letter.

“Okay.” Leaning against the door jamb, he watched Kristen work and realized that she was dressed up today, wearing a charcoal gray silk dress instead of her usual slacks and blouse. At fi rst, he assumed it was for Shabbat, but then had to remind himself that Kristen wasn’t Jewish. Maybe she had a date.

He knew he was fortunate to have her. In the eight years he’d been at Beth Israel, he’d worked with many secretaries but he hadn’t connected with any of them as well as he had with Kristen. She’d only had the job for six months, but already she had become a trusted friend, and often times he thought that she knew what was going through his head before he did. Most of the time that worked to his advantage. He hoped it would again this time.

“Do you have a moment?” he asked tentatively.Kristen swiveled around in her chair. “You’re still here.

Why are you still here? You should be writing.”

Sheyna Galyan6

“Every year,” he said with a sigh, “why do I do this?”“You’re procrastinating again, Rabbi. Okay, do what?”“I’m still working on the d’var Torah for the Tisha b’Av ser-

vice.” He shook his head. “I’m not a writer, Kristen. Give me something to teach and people who want to learn, and I could have the time of my life.”

“Do you realize this is the third time this morning you’ve come out here to talk to me?”

“Third?”“It’s not a problem, David; I enjoy talking with you. But you

only started working on that sermon two hours ago.”“That long already?” he asked.Kristen grinned. “And to think I get paid for this. So tell me

what’s really on your mind.”David turned serious. “I’m afraid I’m wasting my time.

Every year I insist we should have a service on the eve of Tisha b’Av but I’m not sure the congregation cares one way or the other. So why do I put myself through this?”

“Because it’s important to you. How many showed up last year?”

“About two dozen. I think we’ll be lucky this year to get a minyan. Nobody wants to hear about the sadder parts of our history, even in a Conservative shul. I’m trying to write a d’var Torah that doesn’t ignore the historical importance but doesn’t brood on it either. I can only talk about the destruc-tion of the Temples or the expulsions for so long before people start walking out. Even the themes of in-fi ghting and causeless hatred aren’t enough to keep their interest.”

He gently fi ngered the colorful crocheted kippah clipped to his wavy, dark brown hair. “But to not mention it at all seems like disregarding our past. I don’t want to do that either.”

“Tisha b’Av is next month, isn’t it?”“Mm hm. Why?”“It’s only July. Why are you working on this so soon?”“I have just under three weeks. And like I said, Kristen, I’m

not a writer. You know me—I’ll start working on next year’s High Holy Days sermons the day after this year’s ends. I only have two hundred and seventy-four writing days this year. Excluding Sabbaths and holidays, of course.”

Destined to Choose 7

“Of course,” Kristen deadpanned. “And don’t forget snow days. Why don’t you just say what you want to say, and if people don’t like it, they can complain? The congregation here isn’t exactly known for its passivity.”

“I don’t know.” David left his favorite spot in the doorway and sat down on a beige and blue brocade sofa along the wall between his study and the door to the hallway. Just down the hall, he could hear the sounds from the main synagogue offi ce where Betsy, the offi ce manager, was training yet another tem-porary secretary. Across from the main offi ce was the cantor’s study, and beyond that, the stairs that led down to the sanc-tuary and, in the basement, the social hall and conference room. David had mixed feelings when he heard Joel singing or playing the piano. The man had a voice like silk: smooth but typically not warm.

His gaze settled on the pink and green leaves of the potted caladium on the fl oor next to him before he continued. “I think I’m actually nervous about off ending the congregation.” He looked up at Kristen. “Tisha b’Av is diff erent from any other holiday in our calendar; it has a diff erent feel to it. I mean, we fast and avoid physical pleasures like we do on Yom Kippur, but it’s out of refl ection or even mournful remembrance, without that sense of rejuvenation that Yom Kippur brings.

“People expect me to off end them during the Days of Awe, to challenge them to become better people, better Jews. But Tisha b’Av is important in its own right. I don’t want this con-gregation to decide that secular summertime is preferable to living Jewishly, or that Tisha b’Av is hereafter an optional—or worse yet, an obsolete—observance. I mean, look at the recent racial and ethnic tension, fi ghting and name-calling between various Jewish movements, stone-throwing at the Western Wall: all these tell me that we haven’t yet learned the lessons of Tisha b’Av.”

“David, it sounds to me like you already know what you want to say; you just don’t want to commit it to paper. I bet if I let you go on, based on what you’ve just said, you could give a pretty good sermon right now.”

“What did I just say?”

Sheyna Galyan8

Kristen gave him a faintly amused smile. “Go write your d’var Torah, Rabbi. You’ll be saying nothing if you continue to sit there and schmooze. And I’m sure it will turn out fi ne.”

“Thanks,” David said, noting that Kristen only used his title of rabbi when she was either chastising or teasing him, and rarely as a sign of respect. Unlike most people, when she wanted to address him respectfully, she used his fi rst name.

It hadn’t always been that way. Unlike other rabbis who seemed to enjoy substituting “Rabbi” for their fi rst names, David much preferred to be an individual around friends, col-leagues, and his staff . And every time Kristen called him Rabbi, he sensed an unspoken “permission to speak freely, sir?” in her voice. Finally, he asked her to call him David, and once she got used to the idea, their rapport improved tremendously. It also liberated her sense of humor, which he found refreshing most days.

Slowly he stood up and went back into his study while loos-ening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt collar.

“Can I convince you to close your door?” Kristen called after him. “You have no privacy when you leave it open.”

David poked his head out of the doorway. “What, I’m not being punished enough, having to write this? You want me in solitary confi nement too?”

Kristen laughed. “I have to keep trying, David. I believe pri-vacy is good for everyone, including rabbis.”

Defi antly, he left the door ajar. Rather than sitting down immediately, David began to pace slowly. He knew it tended to annoy everyone around him, but somehow the steady rhythm of his pacing gave clarity to the randomness of his thoughts. Although if he wasn’t careful, he occasionally found himself voicing his thought process aloud, almost chanting in time with his footsteps. The last time that happened, he’d been in a conference with several board members who had rebuked him sharply. “Talmudic singsong is fi ne for rabbinical school,” one of them had warned him, “but please don’t do it in public, and especially don’t do it around us.” While he suspected it embar-rassed them, bringing to mind nineteenth-century rabbis swaying in ecstatic prayer, he’d been self-conscious about it ever since.

Destined to Choose 9

Letting out a long sigh, he sat down in his chair and perused book titles. Three of the four walls in his study were covered by fl oor-to-ceiling bookcases, which in turn were packed some-times two or three rows deep with books: law, legends, stories, philosophy, ethics, ancient wisdom and modern commentary, oversize books with cracked leather bindings, titles in Hebrew, English, German, even a few children’s books for when parents brought their kids in with them.

David had strategically placed his desk perpendicular to one of the bookcases, where multiple copies of the Torah, Prophets, and Writings, along with a full set of the Talmud, were within an arm’s reach. The wall behind him boasted a modest window out of which he rarely looked, and a fi ling cab-inet that contained old sermon notes, handouts for classes, and other papers he couldn’t bear to throw out. Facing his desk sat two well-worn ersatz leather chairs, and in front of the far wall, a dark-colored sofa sagged under the weight of countless books and papers. David could always fi nd what he was looking for in the papers on the sofa or his desk, or in the piles that dotted the worn almond-colored carpet. He wouldn’t allow anyone to straighten up or fi le the papers, for fear he’d never fi nd any-thing again.

Checking the clock again, he stood up resolutely. There was work to be done and Shabbat was approaching fast. He selected a book of Jewish law codes and turned to the section con-cerning Tisha b’Av. After reading for a few minutes, he wrote down some thoughts, then stood and scanned his shelves for another title.

He chewed absentmindedly on his thumb, stopping now and then to pull a book off his shelves, leaf through it, and make notes on a legal pad. The mound of books rapidly con-quered the top of his desk and, sighing, he began to pace again, writing new thoughts to the cadence of his steps.

TWO

David worked through lunch and was only minimally suc-cessful at accomplishing his goals for the day. His concerns for Anna kept intruding, despite the fact that he knew he was help-less to do anything. He put the fi nishing touches on a program outline for a class he hoped to teach on the book of Genesis and tossed it in his out box. In addition to all the classes on theology and law he was required to take in rabbinical school, David thought irritably, why couldn’t they have off ered just one on handling paperwork?

His phone buzzed, and he punched the intercom button a little harder than he intended. “What is it?”

“Your one o’clock appointment is here,” Kristen said sweetly. “So be nice.”

Within minutes, a young couple stood in front of him. The young man was Marc Dorsay, nineteen years old and the only son of Len Dorsay, one of the more prominent and vocal mem-bers of the synagogue’s board of directors. Marc was dressed similarly to how David had always seen him in shul: dark blue slacks, a long-sleeved white shirt with the cuff s rolled almost up to his elbows, and a multi-colored designer tie.

The young woman he had never seen before. He glanced at her denim mini-skirt and oversized, embroidered white blouse, and fi gured her to be non-observant. Few observant Jews in any of the movements would meet with a rabbi in a skirt that short. He wasn’t quite certain whether she was simply making a fashion statement or if she was trying to appeal to him as a man rather than as a rabbi.

Destined to Choose 11

“Please, sit down,” he indicated the two chairs in front of his desk, and averted his gaze from the woman as she sat. “I understand you want to talk to me about a wedding.”

Marc nodded. “Yeah. Luna and I, we want to get married. The sooner, the better.” He looked at his fi ancée and took her hand in his. “We were going to elope, but my dad would hit the roof, so that’s why we’re here.”

“Luna—?”“Just Luna,” the young woman said, gently tossing her long,

blond hair over her shoulder. “You know, like the moon.”“Is Luna your birth name?”“No. But I don’t go by my birth name anymore. Everyone

calls me Luna.”“That doesn’t sound like a Jewish name.”“It’s not.”“Luna’s not Jewish.” Marc shrugged. “But my mom wasn’t

when she and my dad met either. She converted.”That explained it. Not only was she non-observant, she

wasn’t even Jewish. The rabbi looked at her. “Luna, how old are you?”

“I’ll be twenty in August.”“Okay. So you want to convert?”“Oh, no. I’m not really religious at all. I’m spiritual. I don’t

have a need for religion.”Looking back and forth between them, David spread his

hands. “I’m at a loss, here. If Luna’s not going to convert, I don’t know why you came to me about getting married.”

Marc began to shake his foot up and down. “You see, it’s my dad. He said he’d let us get married if we had a kosher Jewish wedding, according to your standards. So the only way we can be married without my dad going ballistic is if you marry us. My dad’s on the board, you know, and he said you’d do it. You will, won’t you?”

“Marc, I can’t make that decision until I have more infor-mation.” He turned to Luna. “Tell me about your spirituality.”

“Well, it doesn’t get in the way of anything Marc wants to do, with his being Jewish and all. He doesn’t go to any of the meetings or anything anyway. We each just do our own thing as far as religion goes. But spiritually, our souls are intertwined.”

Sheyna Galyan12

“I thought you said you weren’t religious.”“I’m not. Not the way you’d defi ne being religious.”“What if you ignore the way I might defi ne being religious?”“Then I guess I am, sort of. But it’s not like the ancient

myths. We don’t sacrifi ce anything, or dance naked under the moon, or any of that stuff . We never did. We’re just interested in furthering our spiritual awareness and connection with the universe through the natural rhythms of the planet. I’m Wiccan.”

“Is your family Wiccan too?”“No, they’re your standard white-bread Lutherans.”“And you don’t plan to change anything about your

religion?”“No. Why should I? I’m not making Marc convert to Wicca,

so why should I convert to Judaism?”“Well, there’s the question of children, and how you’d raise

them. But that aside, I can’t marry you.”“Why not?” Marc’s voice had an edge to it. “We love each

other.”“I’m sure you do. And I hope everything works out for both

of you. But I can’t offi ciate at your wedding unless both of you are Jewish, and I especially can’t while Luna is actively prac-ticing another religion.”

Marc scoff ed. “That’s so racist.”David tried to hide his surprise. He’d heard the allegation

before, but never from a member of his own congregation. “Marc, you know as well as I do that religion and race are two entirely diff erent things. A person can’t choose the color of his skin, nor can he choose the country in which he was born. But a person can choose to convert to Judaism and by halacha—Jewish law—is accepted by the community as if he or she was born Jewish.

“I hold nothing personal against you, Luna,” he said, turning to the young woman. “But you also must understand that for religious Jews, Jewish observance is a big part of who they are. You would be left out of all that. Your children would grow up seeing their parents practice two very diff erent reli-gions, and that can be extremely confusing for children.

Destined to Choose 13

Religious diff erences can drive a wedge between husband and wife, and they often play a signifi cant role in divorce.”

He looked back at Marc. “My decision not to marry you has nothing to do with race or tribal identity. It has to do with wanting to ensure that a marriage isn’t destined for failure from the start, and wanting to create a religiously stable home for you and any children you may have.”

“That’s our decision, not yours,” Marc said.David shook his head. “It is partly my decision when you

want a Jewish wedding.”“You’re going to ruin everything! We’re going to get mar-

ried no matter what you say. And if it means I have to leave Judaism to do it, then I will!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Marc. I hope you’ll reconsider.”“Sure, I’ll reconsider. I’ll ask my dad to reconsider you as

our rabbi! Come on, Luna, let’s get out of here.”With what David thought was almost a smug smile, Luna

left his study with Marc. He always hated these types of meet-ings, hated the sense of responsibility for forcing people to choose between their heritage and love. And yet, what would that heritage mean if it was allowed to stagnate in a relation-ship that could never nurture it?

Kristen poked her head in the doorway. “I thought you were going to be nice, David. They looked very unhappy.”

“Don’t ask.” “As you wish. Mr. Rosenfeld called again just a few minutes

ago. He’s at the same number.”David tried to smile and suspected it came out more as a

grimace. He picked up the phone.“She is not there, Rabbi,” Avram said with a note of panic in

his voice as soon as David identifi ed himself. “Not with any of her friends. I called everyone in her book.”

“Okay, Avram, I’m sure she’s safe. Just in case, and I’m not saying there’s anything wrong here, have you called the police?”

“No! No police! The police there came after my family and took them to the camps. The police here, I have seen what they have done. Here in Minneapolis, they arrest Jews just for going in the wrong building. Do you think I want them going after my own granddaughter? My own blood?”

Sheyna Galyan14

“I know you’ve seen a lot of hatred and violence,” David said, “but things have changed here. What you’re describing, even here in Minneapolis, took place decades ago.”

Avram’s tone was fi rm. “No, Rabbi. No police.”“All right. For now.” David thought for a few moments. “Let

me see what I can do, okay? I have a friend—a Jewish friend—who would know more about this than I do.”

“What should I do?”“Just stay there in case Anna calls. I’ll get back to you as

soon as I know something.”“I will wait. Call me soon, Rabbi.”“I’ll do my best.”After hanging up, David reached for his rotary card fi le

and found the business card for the Minneapolis Police Department. A name and extension had been handwritten in Hebrew on the card. He dialed the number and asked for the extension, hoping he wouldn’t be transferred to voice mail. He was in luck.

“Zahav here.”“Arik, it’s David Cohen.”“David! Shalom chaver!” He paused. “Is something wrong?

You never call me at work.”“I never needed to before,” David said. “I’m afraid I may

have a runaway on my hands. If you’re too busy, just say so; I can make some calls here. But her grandfather is pretty upset.”

“Juvenile or adult?”“She just turned eighteen. I guess that makes her an adult

legally. But emotionally, she’s still just a kid. She’s been through a lot, Arik, and I’m concerned about her.”

“Okay. On a scale of one to ten, how serious do you think this is?”

“My instinct says a twelve.”“I’ve seen rabbinical instinct at work before. Okay, Rabbi,

you got yourself a detective.”“Thanks, Arik.”“So, you know the drill. Name, age, description, how long

has she been missing, where was she last seen, addictions, boy-friends, the works.”

Destined to Choose 15

David gave him all the information he could, noticing that Arik’s voice had developed an edge to it now that he was relating on a professional level.

“One more thing, Arik. I don’t want to make this offi cial. Mr. Rosenfeld is very distrustful of the police and won’t fi le a missing persons report.”

“That wouldn’t do him any good yet, anyway. She’s legally an adult and she’s only been gone since yesterday. If she wants to leave home, there’s nothing to stop her. You do realize teens run away all the time?”

David sighed. “I’m painfully aware of that. But anything you can do without calling in the police.”

“And what do you call me? I am police, remember? You even had the luxury of seeing my badge up close when I almost arrested you the fi rst time we met.”

David felt slightly embarrassed, even over the phone. “Don’t you get tired of bringing that up?”

“Not really. I’ll see if I can fi nd your runaway as soon as possible, but I can’t guarantee today. I’ll have the boys—excuse the expression—check out the clubs and the university. I think I’ll have them take a run down Hennepin and our very own red light district. Bet you didn’t know we had one, did you?”

“Can’t say I did. You’re not likely to fi nd Anna there, though. She’s—”

“A nice Jewish girl?” Arik laughed. “Trust me on this, David. You may have your rabbinical instincts, but I’ve got my cop instincts. We’ll get her back.”

“You aren’t going to look for her yourself?”“Can’t. I’m on loan to homicide for a while. A case I was

working on has erupted into our twenty-fourth murder victim, and if my transfer application gets approved in the next couple of weeks, I won’t have to go back to domestic assault.”

“You’re really serious about transferring into homicide?”“What is it about all you rabbis having an aversion to my

working homicide? Yes, I’m serious. Sure, it’s rated R for vio-lence, but at least I’d no longer be forced to return kids to parents who abuse them, or be civil to wife-beaters. It’s all human brutality one way or another, and I’m tired of seeing

Sheyna Galyan16

the torture in action. Just once I’d like to catch the bad guy and see him stay in jail for more than six months.”

“Don’t we all. Listen, Arik, I’m in a bit of a legal bind on this.”

“Legal?”“Jewish law. I know what can happen to kids like Anna, so

I’m considering this a case of pikuach nefesh—the saving of a life comes before anything else. But I also realize I’m asking you to work on Shabbat.”

Arik laughed. “And you know how observant I am, right? Compared to me, my wife looks Ultra-Orthodox. I have to work tomorrow anyway, so consider yourself off the hook. If God is keeping score, it’s my ass on the line.”

“If you fi nd Anna before Shabbat is over, and it’s an emer-gency . . .”

“That’s right, you don’t use the phone on Shabbat. Well, I’ll just have to come over there with full lights and sirens. It’ll give your neighbors something to talk about.”

“I hope you won’t need to, Arik.”“Let me put it to you this way, David. When I fi nd her,

there’s about an eighty percent chance she’s with friends and trying to hurt her grandfather out of spite, and only a fi fteen percent chance she’s gotten into some sort of trouble that you wouldn’t be able to help with anyway.”

“And the remaining fi ve percent?”“Then you’d get to do your job at the funeral.”