In a word, they have no children, no great love for each other, and apparently no real happiness together either. And now, how shall I put it, the young man is looking for some purpose in his life. That is, he’s planning a long trip overseas to “find himself” or “fulfill himself” or whatever it is they call it. The Devil alone understands them. The whole thing devastated me. Why, here I was, about to lose my elder son. The boy too was lost! You can imagine that I didn’t give in without a fight. I reasoned with him all I could. I tried being nice and I tried being harsh. I clung to him with every ounce of strength I had. And our strength, Eshkol, is nearly gone. You yourself know how true that is. What are we to them even now but pig-headed old men, old buzzards who have lived too long, power-hungry old tyrants? In short, the boy refuses to budge. He’s determined to make some radical change in his life.

You’ll want to know what stuff he’s made of. Well, I’ll answer that as simply as I can. He’s got a good head, a good heart, and a good soul. He’s missing only the spark that could set him off. Please, don’t smile at this point in your usual, heartily cunning way as if to say, “Witness dismissed. What else can you expect of a doting father?” I beg you to believe that I can see my son quite objectively. That much credit you still owe me. And forgive me if I seem at the same time to be writing all this with my own heart’s blood. Oh, yes, I forgot. The boy plays chess too. He’s even tournament caliber. In other words, he’s not just another dumb yokel.

My dear Eshkol, you’re a wise man. Please don’t think the worse of me for this. My hand shakes as it writes. It’s a terrible thing for me to have to come to you after all these years and ask for a private kindness. To tug at your sleeve, as it were, and beg you to remember what the rabbis said about the man who saves a single soul, etc. I place my firstborn in your hands. You know his family. You know his paternity. Be so good as to find him some suitable novitiate.