YOU'RE A BLOCK PAST IT

                                                        YOU'RE A BLOCK PAST IT…..

 

                  Marc Greenburg was a New Yorker, to the tips of his fingers and including his toes. He lived In Queens, after the massive migration from the Bronx, of those of his faith.

                   He was a Jew, who was observant, although his accent never changed. Sometimes it was undecipherable. In the five Burroughs of the city, you had to listen closely, because eril became oil if you went from Brooklyn to the Bronx. There were subsequent problems in the various translations. Marc understood this, but his own accent was so thick, that you had to sometimes ponder his words. His Yiddish and Hebrew were , but that was not the national language and at 75, his accent almost landed him in the county jail.

                 It all happened when he was returning from the Shul on a Shabbat. He was still meditating on the Parishot for that week, which was Mishbatim or the statures of the law. At that moment he was stopped by an Afro-American, on a corner, to ask directions. He knew the area like the back of his hand, so he immediately told him that he knew the address he was seeking, but: You're a block past it…

               Now the Afro-American, who was the size of a linebacker and looked just as mean, shouted: "Discrimination!"  That brought an Irish cop and since they lived in a democratic country, Marc was swiftly taken to the local judge in Queens. She proved to be an Afro-American as well and had a striking resemblance to Opra on the television. The charges were declaimed and poor Marc, who still had his Talit and Kippur under his arm, was faced with a grave crisis.

               The plaintiff, who was adamant, was determined to make the defendant bleed justice. This was the United States and no discrimination was permitted here, so he blurted out to the judge: "He called me a black bastard!" They were all part of the same melting pot, Marc reasoned, but he also sensed that Opra (the judge) held a strong inclination for the other side.

                         "Are you a racist, Mr. Greenburg?"

              She didn't have a New York accent and he found out later that she had graduated from Harvard, but that didn't really matter. He knew that if she believed that he had insulted someone of her own race, then he was guilty before he could plead his innocence. He was congering  these thoughts, when the judge continued:

                         "If you insulted an Afro-American, by calling him a Black Bastard…you are guilty under the law. Are you aware of that?"

                Marc paused for a moment, for it had been written in the Mishpatim that same dictum, albeit thousands of years ago. It was that you had to treat the stranger with kindness. That much was clear and the stranger, metaphorically speaking, is a fellow citizen. Therefore, it would be against the law of the Torah to even contemplate insulting another human being. These ideas were solid in his being, but he did not think that he could adequately explain this to the judge and since it was getting near noon, he knew that all wanted a lunch break. Therefore, if he pleaded guilty, the fine would probably be minimum, because they all wanted to go home to eat. But, if he did that, he would be confessing he had broken a holy law. It was true that on Yom Kippur he had confessed repentance for many laws he had never broken, but that was a spiritual thing and this was real.

                 The judge shuffled some papers in front of her and waited impatiently for the defendant to reply. She knew he was a Jew and that the mayor of the city was of the same religion, so she really didn't want to make a big thing out of this, if it could be avoided. Nevertheless, this was a New York standoff and justice had to be done.

                              "So, what do you have to say for yourself Mr. Greenburg? Did you or did you not call the plaintiff a Black Bastard?"

                  There were thousands of years of light, between that moment and when his ancestors received the law on Mount Sinai. There was also slavery in Egypt and forty years in the desert. In fact, it was remarkable that he had survived so long. So, what could he do, but tell the truth.

                             "Your honor, I was born in New York. My ancestors moved from the Bronx, to Brooklyn and later Queens. Therefore. I get mixed up with my accents. Nevertheless, I Am not a lewd person. In fact, I respect my fellow man and when this fellow asked me, on the corner, where a certain address was, I simply replied: You're a block past it…"

                  A dead silence followed, in which both the judge and plaintiff were at a lack of words. The case was immediately dismissed and the only who laughed, was the Irish cop, who was from Brooklyn. Who immediately doubled up and blurted out: "You're a block past it!"