A Town of Empty Rooms by Karen E. Bender Page B

intermarriages.”
    Tiffany looked up. “Some of us have converted,” she said softly.
    â€œThis is about the Christian spouses, Tiffany. Do we want to reserve spots beside their Jewish spouses? Or,” he cleared his throat, “should they be buried in a spousal section of the cemetery, specially designated for non-Jews?”
    There was a silence as everyone considered the implications of this statement. “You mean segregate them?” asked Tiffany.
    â€œThey could have converted,” said Norman. “They had every chance to do that. Up to their moment of death. They made that decision not to. I don’t want the non-Jewish spouses taking up the hard-won spaces reserved for Jews.”
    Serena was a little too familiar with the idea of burial to contemplate forcing anyone to bury their beloved anyplace other than where they wanted; she suddenly wondered why she had believed that joining the board was a good idea.
    â€œPlus, we don’t have a lot of room in the cemetery,” said Norman. “What are the dimensions, Tom?”
    â€œAbout an acre and a half,” said Tom. “It is adjoining the Walmart parking lot.”
    â€œIs that where the non-Jewish spouses will go?” asked Tiffany, her voice hardening. “In the Walmart parking lot?”
    Serena had had enough. She began to stand up.
    â€œWhere are you going?” asked Betty.
    â€œI have to go,” said Serena.
    â€œWe need your vote,” whispered Betty. “Stay.”
    The general resemblance of the Temple members to her own family, to people she had known, was like looking into a funhouse mirror. Serena’s neck was getting warm.
    â€œWhy can’t it be for anyone who wants to be buried there?” burst Serena.

    She stopped, startled by herself. Betty was beaming at her. Norman’s face stiffened in alarm.
    â€œRabbi,” said Norman. “Get over here.”
    Rabbi Golden clicked off his cell phone and walked over, slowly.
    â€œWhat are the rules for burial in a Jewish cemetery, Rabbi?” Norman asked. “Wouldn’t it make sense that the buried would have to be — Jewish?”
    â€œRabbi, thirty percent of our congregants are intermarried,” said Betty. “Isn’t the true spirit of religion to be inclusive? To make everyone feel welcome who wants to belong — ”
    â€œAll I’m asking is a little room for me,” Norman said. “All I’m asking — ”
    â€œAnd why wouldn’t there be room for you, Norman,” said the rabbi, clapping Norman on the back. “You! Norman Weiss! You don’t just need a cemetery, you need a statue.”
    She was surprised by his tone, its light, almost merry quality. He seemed to sense the tension in the room, and he was skating over it, somewhat joyfully.
    â€œSet up a task force,” said the rabbi, lightly. “Jewish cemeteries. How to design it for everyone’s, um, needs. Norman, Betty, you head it. Vote.”
    They all voted to establish a task force. The rabbi smiled and stretched, as though he had just come in from a refreshing jog. Serena was impressed with his ability to change the tone of the room; the air had been simmering a moment before and now was calm.
    â€œThank you, Rabbi,” said Norman.
    â€œMeeting adjourned,” said Tom.
    As they headed out, Betty caught up with her. “See, we need you,” she said. “A voice of reason.”
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    THE NEXT DAY, SHE HAD a discussion with Zeb about the concept of BC, and he was eager to try it out on Ryan.
    Later in the week, she was driving the two of them home in the car.
    â€œDo you know what BC is?” Zeb asked.

    â€œNo,” said Ryan.
    â€œThe time of earth before Christ was born,” said Zeb, sounding pleased to have claimed this era.
    â€œWell, that would be a very short time,” said Ryan, “because Christ was here first. He invented the