EARNING MY BREAD

By Arnold Chazen

(Editor’s note: this article was given in to be included in the magazine before Arnold’s passing. As a tribute to his great sense of humour it is published with the greatest respect and honour, with his daughters’ permission.)

As Beadle, it is often my pleasant duty to welcome visitors to the synagogue.

The Headmistress of a local school recently asked me, if she might bring along two of her students who were making a special study of Judaism for their GCE exams in comparative religions.

At the appointed time she arrived, accompanied by two rather earnest fourteen year olds, who were armed with notebooks and pencils. I spent an interesting hour showing them around and answering their intelligent questions to the best of my ability.

Eventually, it was time for them to leave. As they were about to do so, one of the young ladies said, "I’d like to ask you just one more question. What exactly is a bagel?".

Suppressing a smile, I explained that the article in question, whist dear to the heart of many orthodox Jews, possessed no intrinsic religious significance.

Delving into the depths of my less than encyclopaedic knowledge of the subject, I proceeded to dissertate on the preparation and baking methods of the said delicacy. Warming to my theme, and indulging in a little poetic licence, I waxed eloquent on the bagel factories of the Jewish East End and the bagel-sellers of Petticoat Lane.

Reaching new heights of rhetoric, I broadened the scope of my thesis. I described the various fillings, which could enhance this already noble confection. I dealt at some length with the relative merits of cream cheese, eingemachts and lox. Growing in confidence, I launched into a learned treatise of the life cycle of the salmon.

It was at this juncture that I thought I detected a look of bewilderment on the faces of my listeners.

Their lower jaws had descended to somewhere in the vicinity of their kneecaps. It was though they had been struck across the face with a wet haddock.

"Why do you ask?" I finished lamely.

"Well", said my questioner, adjusting her lower jaw, "when we phoned you to make this appointment, you told us that you were the Bagel of the Synagogue".