Chapter Nineteen
“And the chiefs of all the people, even of all the
tribes of Israel, presented themselves in the
assembly of the people of God, four hundred
thousand footmen that drew sword.”
Book of Judges, 20:2
The defendant smiled at Melody condescendingly while Yiftach was lost in a daydream, imagining Love standing before a firing squad.
He envisioned fourteen officers standing in a row, ready for the execution order.
The squad commander approaches the condemned woman and covers her eyes with a piece of red cloth.
“I’d rather you didn’t cover my eyes,” Love tells him.
“Unfortunately, that is not an option,” he answers her.
She stands before the executioners with her eyes covered, wondering if truly everything is about to end. The commander reviews his soldiers closely.
“Ready!” he orders, and they lift their rifle butts to their shoulders.
“Aim!” Love doesn’t move and, in her heart, she still hopes that this is nothing but an exercise that will soon end.
“Fire!”
Pillars of smoke twirl skyward from the rifles and the sound of the accompanying explosions are heard far and wide.
“Who do you think Heart will call to the stand now?” Melody brought Yiftach back to reality, detaching him from the malicious thoughts he was again harboring. “Who do you think he has saved for last?”
“Anthony and Cleopatra perhaps?”
She chewed on her lower lip as she answered, “No, that’s not plausible. That ended in tragedy. It doesn’t serve his line of defense. I’ll bet it’s Queen Victoria and Prince Albert.”
“Maybe, or maybe Scarlet O’Hara and Rett Butler?”
“Maybe, or maybe Oliver Barrett and Jennifer Cavilleri?”
“Maybe,” said Heart who was standing silently behind them like a cunning wildcat, “but I believe that their story didn’t end well either.
” He began taking out several binders from his case with annoying dispassion and, when the three judges entered the courtroom, he was given permission to call the last two witnesses for the defense.
His witnesses were a man and a woman lacking any affectations who appeared to be ordinary people, unremarkable in any way, just seemingly simple human beings (who weren’t simple by any means).
“What is your name?” Heart asked the man, getting straight to the point and leaving Yiftach no time to prepare for cross-examination.
“A Guy,” he answered immediately.
“And your last name?”
“Just.”
“Just?”
He seemed to be apologizing. “Just…”
“And you, my dear, what is your name?” he asked the woman with affected kindness.
“A Gal.”
“Whatever… and your family name?”
“Just.”
“You too are ‘Just?’”
“Of course, we’re married, you see.”
“Hmmm…” Heart bit his lip furtively, “in that case, if I may, you’re—‘Just, A Guy,’ and you’re—‘Just, A Gal!’”
“You could say that…” she answered.
“So you’re not famous?”
“No…”
“In other words, you aren’t known?”
The shook their heads from side to side.
“Meaning, your life story does not appear in any history books?” he wanted to confirm what he already knew.
“Not that we know of,” Just, A Guy replied.
“Nice… nice… and I presume that the two of you love each other, yes?”
“Yes,” they answered almost simultaneously.
“Wonderful… wonderful… please, don’t be shy, just tell us how you fell in love with one another.”
Just, A Gal was the first to respond. “There are many who believe that love is a feeling created magically, in a flash, when one’s ‘soulmate’ suddenly appears. So it isn’t at all surprising that so many people remain alone and without love.”
“That’s true,” Just, A Guy confirmed, “most of us believe that the feeling of love, which is based on emotional, intellectual and physical attraction, is ignited the moment the ‘soulmate’ appears in our lives.”
“Yes, interesting,” Heart replied, “and isn’t it so?”
“Of course not,” he answered, “if it were so then, with the same ease and arbitrariness, the feeling of love could also disappear and fade away.”
Heart, who anticipated Yiftach’s questions in the cross-examination, made a preemptive strike. “But it is true, isn’t it, that sometimes intense love does fade away and die?”
“Not that easily,” Just, A Gal said, “not if you understand what, in my opinion, is the most important thing.”
“And what is that, my dear? What is the most important thing of all?”
“To understand that love is not a chance happening born of itself, but rather a conscious choice,” her voice was quiet, sensual, as if revealing a forbidden secret.
“The feeling of love doesn’t just happen of itself, something is required to cause it to happen.
.. and just as it can be created, it must also be maintained. Love is a full-time job.”
“And how can this feeling be maintained?” Heart asked her.
“Let me put it this way: you must focus on all that is good in a person.”
“Poo…” a deriding, scornful guffaw escaped Yiftach’s throat. Some people in the audience also started to giggle.
She didn’t seem hurt or surprised; obviously, she was used to such reactions. “By the way, by doing so, you yourself become a better person.”
Yiftach stood up and approached them. He seemed in a jolly, humorous mood. “My learned friend,” he turned to Heart, “may I cross-examine this exemplary couple that you called here today?” Heart put out his hands, gesturing that the witnesses were now at his disposal, and stepped back.
“My dears,” he addressed them stiffly, “with your permission, I would like to dwell on the thesis you present, stating that love is born from focusing on the good in another person. Have you ever heard… for instance… a woman in love saying to her partner with great longing: ‘My love, when I realized what a good man you are, I fell in love with you without hesitation?’ Or something to that effect?” Laughter spread throughout the room.
“After which, have you ever heard her partner answering her with unbridled longing: ‘And I, my love, have never in my life met a woman of such high morality as yours!”
Just, A Gal quickly gathered her composure and answered, “I would like to tell you something, my learned friend. I wasn’t born here.
I moved to Israel six years ago. My parents don’t live here; they remained in Paris.
When I phoned my mother to tell her that I had given birth to my first child, my son, she was beside herself with joy.
At the end of our talk she said, ‘Darling, I want you to know that your father and I love you and your son unconditionally.’ Do you understand?
I am here in Israel, my parents are in France, they never met my newborn son.
I admit that I was a bit skeptical. I said to my mother that I am glad that she feels that way, but honestly, I don’t understand how you can love someone whom you have never met.
‘I love him because I choose to love him,’ she said, ‘love is a choice and a full-time job.’ Do you understand, my friend?
By focusing on the good that is in people, you too will be able to ignite the flame of love in your heart. ”
“We both know that it isn’t really practical.”
“It certainly is, absolutely so. Our actions have an immense impact on our feelings. For instance, perhaps you would like to be a more compassionate person, so a good start is to actually think compassionate thoughts. However, you will achieve your goal more quickly and more efficiently if you also add actions to your thoughts.”
“Such as?”
“Such as volunteering to work with youth at risk or in a women’s shelter or at a food bank.
That will help you feel compassion. In the same way, the best way to feel love towards another person is to behave in a loving way, that is, to bestow, to give.
Giving leads to love, and it is a never-ending cycle because more love leads to greater giving, and so on.
That’s why I am certain that love leads towards a better, more rewarding, more compassionate world for all humanity, with greater mutual respect. ”
Yiftach wanted to say something, but Judge Kedem interrupted him quickly. “I think everything is perfectly clear to us,” she told him. With that, the presentation of the case for the prosecution was concluded.
“My dad keeps nagging me to invite you over for dinner,” Yiftach said at the end of the court session.
“Really?”
“Yes, he is planning the dinner and wanted me to ask you what your favorite foods are. He wants to make a good impression. He’s very nervous about this.”
“Tell him he doesn’t have to worry. Whatever he prepares will be perfect.”
“That means you’ll come?”
“Of course. Why do you think he’s so nervous?”
“Because you will be the very first guest at our house since I returned home. Until now, it’s been just Dad, Chava and me at the house.”
“You know, I already met your dad, remember? When I came to your house that time with Weissman? But it was very short. Do you think he’ll like me?”
He squinted as he answered her without smart-alecky remarks, as she had asked of him then, as if she were simply ‘just a gal.’ “You know the answer.”