Religious Intolerance, and An Angel Named Lena

The tension was building up at home, this time with Brian, a heavy smoker who'd begun going to parties at weekends and getting drunk.  He was sixteen and studying for his A'levels at the grammar school. Like Robin and I, he longed for a normal childhood.  He had a number of friends in the neighbourhood, all of whom had gone to the local comprehensive. Whilst he showed exceptional talent and had no objection to studying hard at the grammar school, he disliked having to cycle to the Rabbi's house several evenings a week to study the sacred Hebrew books. For him, the memories of summer holidays spent with our grandparent in Blackpool were too fresh and too painful.  
 
To digress a little, Brian had gone to a Church of England Primary school.  On our parents' instructions, the teacher had sent him to sit at the back of the room during religious classes, along with the only other Jewish child in the class.  Nevertheless, he'd overheard the teacher talking about the Resurrection and had mentioned this to my maternal grandfather during one of his summer stays there.  
 
Whack!  My grandfather hit him over the head.  'No one has ever come back from the dead.  The story of Jesus, it is a lie.'   Whack!
 
'But,' eight-year-old Brian sobbed, tears streaming down his face.  'The teacher said that Jesus died on the cross on Good Friday and rose from the dead on Easter Sunday.'
 
Whack!  'It is a lie. A wicked, evil lie.'
 
'But...'
 
Whack!  'They persecute us.  They put pigs in the Synagogue on Easter Sunday and they rape the women.  Even when they are dead, the women, the soldiers rape them. And you want to join them?'
 
'No, the teacher said -  
 
Whack!  'They kidnap children and send them to be in the army. The boys, these Jewish boys, they never see their mothers again. They make them eat chazereit, treif pork. They stop me from being a scientist. They shall be punished.'
 
'I -
 
Whack!  'We, Jews, believe in one God. The Christians have three gods. They are not good people...'
 
***
 
A few months after the Simchos Torah celebrations, my parents booked a flight to Israel and Brian joined them on the trip.  This left Robin and I.
 
My mother had a friend, Lena, who agreed look after us in our home.  Lena wasn't  Jewish. Aged in her early fifties, she had shoulder-length ginger hair and a benign smile that conjured up images of fairy godmothers.  Stirred by compassion once, she'd stopped a woman in the streets of Lancashire, a stranger eating a few miserable soggy looking chips, and slipped a fifty pence piece in the woman's hand. Not surprisingly, Robin and I could hardly wait for Lena to come.
 
She arrived one Saturday evening with sweets and crisps for us. Each day, she got us up for school and prepared the lunches, cooked and cleaned and tidied the house, remaining cheerful despite a painful stomach ulcer that often made her sick during the night.  Poor woman.  Looking after a couple of boisterous, ten-year-olds couldn't have been easy for her.  
 
A week after her arrival, she took us to the Arndale Centre in Middleton where we spent the afternoon strolling around the Bargain Store on the top floor.  
 
'Can we get some sweets?' I said.
 
'What about some crisps?' Robin said.  'I want some Cheese & Onion.'
 
'Can we get some dog biscuits for Timmy?' I said.  
 
'You haven't to touch anything,' she said in her strong Lancashire accent as I reached for a saw on one of the shelves.  'Oh no, you haven't got to touch.'
 
I remember analysing the sentences in my mind and thinking: does that mean I don't need to touch anything or does it mean I mustn't?  We went over the next aisle where the shelves were piled high with multi packets of chocolate biscuits and boxes of fizzy drinks.  
 
'What time is it?' I said.  
 
Lena glanced at her watch.  'Half past two.'
 
'Manchester United might score this afternoon,' Robin said.  'Do you think they will?'
 
'I don't know,' she said.  Reaching into her handbag, she took out her purse, dug  into it and placed some money into my hand. I already had a bit for sweets.  Now I had some more. For a few moments, I thought I was dreaming and that I would wake up to find myself back in the house on the estate.
 
Lena, what a modern day angel; a merciful woman who did not entertain religious or social division; a true example of love and compassion. And so sorely needed in this day.