What Are Friends For?
In late 1943, Satan was sitting in his kitchen, sipping some tea over a
lump of crystal sugar, when he received a phone call from the fellow
upstairs. They usually had little to do
with one another after a bit of contretemps a few billion years ago, but still
they were related in a sort of a way, so it was with a big smile that the
Fallen Fellow picked up the phone. He
always knew who as calling, and this was way back before call-answer and
digital identification let others enjoy the same privilege.
“My old friend,” the Holy Name said, “long time no see. What’s new by you?”
The Other One gave a deep sigh.
“Listen, please, I know we have not always been on the best of terms,
but sometimes, well, you know, a friend has to help a friend, right?”
Satan took a big deep breath and maybe a little smoke came out too.
“So what is on your mind, you make a phone call after all these years,
as if I didn’t know?”
“Do I have to tell you or is it enough that I should call?” said The
Holy One Blessed Be He.
“Please, I don’t want to have fights these days—enough of that going on in
that place over there, you know which one I mean.”
The Fallen Fellow gave another deep sigh.
“Oy, let me just tell you why I called,” said God, “and then some other time we can discuss the
old business between us.”
“Go ahead,” answered the Satan. “I won’t say a word until it is
necessary.”
“Thanks. Now here is the
problem. I need from you a favor.”
“A favour—from me? God wants from me a favour? Ho-ha, this is a big deal!”
“You said you would let me speak.”
“I am sorry. I forgot for a
moment. So, nu, go on, I am listening.”
“OK, if it weren’t so important, believe me I wouldn’t be making this
call. Anyway, what I need from you is
this. We are getting people up here
faster than we can properly process. I
can’t just put these Children of Israel any old place. I need to build proper apartments and houses,
fix up lounges, swimming pools. libraries, study halls, you know, the whole
shlamozzle.”
“So what do you want me from, a loan?
I am busy myself with the war you know, and those crazy followers of the
guy with the little moustache, I am working hard to build proper chambers for
them.”
God laughed. “I don’t want to
know from such things. It is not good
for my ulcers. Anyway, now here is what
I would like from you, if you don’t mind.
All I want, if you don’t mind, is that you take in a few hundred
thousand of these men, women and children, take care of them for a few months,
until I am ready, and then they can come here.
This would be a good deal for you, too, as it would speed up your
preparations for the other ones, only, of course, you’ll have to change some of
the fixtures.”
Satan laughed in turn, in his own peculiar way.
“That’s a good one, my old friend.”
“So what is your answer? You can
do this or not.”
“For you, how can I turn you down?
But this is just for a few months, right?”
“Absolutely,” said God, “I guarantee.
Even a pinky swear.”
“Fine, then I agree, you can start to sending them down here tomorrow
morning. I will warn my helpers that
these people are your friends and their stay here is just temporary.”
God sighed.
“Thanks. This is something I
won’t forget.”
Well, the very next morning, the angels started bringing in loads of
Jewish souls from the horrors of the Shoah, and true to his word, believe it or
not, Satan gave them a proper welcome, had them fixed up in nice houses with
gardens and plenty of food. Then he had
one of his special assistants send upstairs a report that all was going well.
However, not even three weeks later, God gets an urgent call from the
Guy in the Basement.
“Hello,” the Master of the Universe says, “it’s you I know. What can I do by you now?”
“Givalt,” says the Satan in a desperate way, “Please, is there any
chance you can get these crazy people out of here soon—like maybe this
morning?”
“What do you mean?” asks God. “I
told you I need a few months to set up evetything perfect for them after all
they have gone through.”
“I know, I know. With my
sympathies. But they are driving me and
all my little helpers meshuggah.”
“Well,” says The Other Fellow, “ you know this is a special kind of
establishment and we have to maintain a certain brand identity and all that.”
“Yes, I know all that, but—“
“Please, get these people out of here.
They are ruining everything.”
“What do you mean ruining?”
“What I mean ruining is that they have started to install air
conditioning in all their houses and apartments.”
With a new determination in his voice, the upstairs boss said: “Not to
worry. I will get Eliyahu HaNavi and Moshe
Rabbenu right down there to sort things out and bring my people home.”
No comments:
Post a Comment