Fate of My Hearing Aid

 

FATE OF MY HEARING AID

 

            Shortly after my sixty second birthday, I decided to acquire a hearing aid. Its acquisition was a luxury. I could follow most conversations by reading other people’s lips. This ability had stood me in good stead during the lectures delivered to my students at the University. It enabled me to reply to questions raised in class.  But I was no longer able to hear derogatory whispers – even loud ones – made by members of my bored captive audience.

            The hearing aid was expensive. It was also a troublesome acquisition. You had to remove it before taking your daily shower and prior to retiring. In addition, you had to fine tune it, especially if people with whom you lunched raised their voices or spoke too softly. Yet another disadvantage was that you heard the words of people occupying adjacent tables. On one occasion, I eavesdropped – unintentionally – when a good-looking fellow asked his fair guest to elope with him and ‘give that stupid idiot of a husband a miss once and for all’. A few days later, I could not help overhearing how two businessmen discussed the embarkation on a dubious scheme. Worst of all, I could now hear what my students whispered during my classes. It was better, to remain in the dark.

            Before long I started to leave home without this hearing aid. It downed on me that lip reading was superior to hearing too much. This gave rise to a new issue: what to do was my acquisition. Maintaining it was expensive: twice a year you had to take it back to specialist so as to have it chemically cleaned and adjusted. All in all, retaining it in a working condition whilst not using it was a waste.

            Initially, I tried to solve the issue by offering to sell it, at a much reduced price, to compatriots. Some offerees to le me that they already had a suitable hearing aid. Others too offence and assured me that they did not require such a device. And others still, too my approach as a joke and showed their merriment. Their laugh, though, was on me.

            I was getting ready to forget about it and put that matter down to experience, when a suitable solution occurred to me during our  after-service lunch at the synagogue. One of the fellows sitting at our table wailed that all his investments had failed. The almighty, he complained, did not listen to his prayers.

            On the very next day I called on our Rabbi. I did so with some trepidation because I had been told that he had taken offence to one of my remarks. What I had said was that the Rabbi’s name – Mordechai – was derived from Marduk, a principal deity of the Babylonian pentagon.  The Rabbi, to whom this observation had been related by a pious member of our community, had take offence to such a ‘heresy’.

            “What can I do for you?” asked  Rabbi Mordechai briskly when I called on him.

            “Would you kindly take this hearing aid? The Good Lord may find it useful. It may help Him to hear our prayers.”

            For just a moment Rabbi Mordechais’s face displayed anger. It then cleared up:

            “So, you want to donate it to us? Alright. I’m sure we can find a good use for it.”

 

            Some two weeks later I went once again to our service and communal lunch. My neighbour at the table looked singularly pleased. In reply to my question, he explained:

            “You know, I am pushing on. My hearing is down but I cannot afford buying a good hearing aid. And you know, when I told this to our Rabbi he gave me one for free!”

            “That was very generous of him,” O replied when I found my voice.

            “Wasn’t it ever. I prayed for one for years. And God Almighty answered.”

             

 

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