A Contemporary Tale, Part 5

A Contemporary Tale, Part 5
Wednesday, April 9, 2025 by Dr. James W. Walraven

Chaim woke up from his dream-within-a-dream. Badly shaken, it took him a few minutes to regain any semblance of composure.

His thoughts were a jumble. “What was with that dream? Why was Sayyid so full of hatred? Why did he treat all Jews the same? What had he, Chaim, ever done to him? Why didn’t his coworker help? It seemed that her ‘positive thoughts and energy’ were nothing more than a form of virtue signaling, a way to ease her own sense of guilt for not stopping, for not doing anything.”

“Then there was that college administrator. Was he that self-absorbedt? He saw me, but pretended he didn’t, immediately turned away and hurried on. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Then there was the MAGA-cap guy. Why him? Why would he, of all people, help?” Another unwanted thought intruded, “What if some of what I’ve been thinking and doing isn’t real, and proves in the end to be false?” Questions, lots of questions.

As Chaim slowly regained focus, he could sense that first-century-rabbi-person was asking him, “Who was your neighbor?”

He didn’t want to answer that. Certainly it wasn’t the hate-filled Sayyid, one who didn’t even recognize me as an individual person. Had he been doing more-or-less the same thing to all those who disagreed about climate change? Not that persistent thought again.

It wasn’t his coworker or that college administrator. He thought those two people would, or rather should, care. But they didn’t, at least not enough to actually do something that would have like, you know, helped.

That MAGA person. He even went out of the way to make sure I was safe, and then to buy me the comfort food I was craving. Chaim finally answered, “My neighbor was… my neighbor was… that, that, that… the guy who had mercy on me, that, that… MAGA cap guy.” He’d finally managed to blurt it out. He didn’t like it, but he said it. He realized that he hadn’t even bothered to ask the MAGA cap guy for his name. He hadn’t even said, “Thank you.” Was he also that self-focused?

His attention snapped back to the first-century-rabbi-person’s words: “Go and do likewise.”

“Do likewise? You mean to those anti-climate change…?” He wanted to add “brainwashed idiots” or “greedy morons,” but for some unclear reason felt it unwise, even unfair, to do so. He heard himself say, “I should care about them? Maybe even those who elected that, that…”

“Yes.”

“Not just berate them and shun them until they see the truth about climate change? But to be genuinely concerned about them, where they’re at, their needs, why they think what they think?”

“Yes, you have said it.”

The first-century-rabbi-person smiled. “Who knows. Maybe if you get to know them, really know and care about them, they might change, and see the value of your position on climate change. Or… you might see their’s.” While saying “or… you might,” he smiled mischievously. “Perhaps you might even decide you want to get to know me.”

Chaim woke up, not the in-a-dream woke up, but really woke up, covered in sweat. What a night! What did it all mean? It would take time to sort through it all. Maybe he needed to change? He took the time to write it down, all the details—even the icky parts about the first-century-rabbi-person and the MAGA cap guy—so he wouldn’t forget.

He got up, washed, and got dressed. To his relief, he noticed his bike in the corner, right where he had left it the night before, undamaged. He walked over to his fridge, opened the door, and reached in to grab a cold slice of double pepperoni pizza.

“Hmm,” he thought to himself. “Maybe I better not.”

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