Mark Cogan was on the third spoon of his Raisin Bran when his son Motti came into the kitchen.
"What are you doing?" Motti gasped.
"I'm having breakfast."
"But it's Asara B'Tevet. It's a fast day!"
"Oh no. I did it again." Mark swallowed what was in his mouth and pushed away his bowl.
"How could you? I did everything I could to stop you from messing up."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I set your alarm clark to play a CD of Im Eshkachech Yarushalayim."
"I was wondering why I was humming that tune this morning."
"And then I put a post-it on the mirror in your bathroom that said: Don't Eat.
"I wasn't wearing my glasses."
"Then I put the tzedakah box in the shape of the Beit Hamikdash on the kitchen table. Look, it's right next to your cereal box."
"I couldn't figure out what it was doing there. But on the bright side, I did put a quarter in."
Mark Cogan was famous in his family for messing up on fast days. He once walked into the beit midrash at Yeshiva University on Shiva Asar B'Tamuz eating a giant chocolate chip cookie from Grandma's Cookies across the street.* Last year on Tsom Gedalia he actually went out to a restaurant for lunch and marvelled to the waitress how easy it had been to get a table. She had smiled politely.
"Oy. I can't believe I did it again."
"It's O.K., Dad. We still love you."
"Well, there's only one thing left to do."
Mark went to the credenza in the living room and took out a beautiful crystal wine glass. It was from a set of six that he and his wife Sheila had purchased in Israel years earlier, though only two glasses remained from the original set. It was cobalt blue with a fine stem and a fluted edge. When he looked at it, he was reminded of the charming gallery in Mishkenot Sha'ananim where he had purchased the set and where the gallery owner had served him Turkish coffee from little cups before making the sale.
Mark took the wineglass outside and stood on the patio in his backyard. Motti followed him out.
"What are you doing?" Motti asked.
"It's what I do when I forget a fast day like this."
Mark raised the glass over his head.
"I don't understand."
"Clearly, I did not fully appreciate the sadness of this day to the Jewish people when I forgot to fast. On this day the Babylonians laid seige to Jerusalem. They surrounded the city's walls to starve its residents before their final assault, leading eventually to the destruction of the Temple.This ended over four hundred years of the Temple service and over eight hundred years of Jewish settlement in the land of Israel."
Mark let go of his wine glass. It fell to the ground and shattered into hundreds of pieces on the cement patio.
"Isn't that what brides and grooms do to remember the sadness of the destruction of the Temple? They break a glass."
"True," Motti said.
"And that glass meant a lot to me. It reminded me of Yerushalayim. I had to do that."
"You never cease to amaze me, Dad."
"Thanks, son. I'm not sure you meant that as a compliment, but I'll take it as one."
"I did mean it as a compliment."
"Well, thanks. And to add to your yom tsom, your fast day experience, I think I can help bring a little sadness your way."
"Oh?"
"Yes," said Mark, patting his son on the back. "You get to clean up the glass."
"Oh."
*Unfortunately, that story is not fiction.
Mark, you're on your last glass
Posted by: Chani | January 01, 2007 at 06:28 AM
Chani, you are a close reader. Good pickup.
Posted by: The Maggid | January 01, 2007 at 08:49 PM