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yourself. Don’t you see some contradiction between what you read in Chamberlain and what you hear about Christian love in church every week?”
    “Sir, I am not in church every week. I’ve stopped going.”
    “How does you father feel about that? How would Chamberlain feel?”
    “My father says he has never set foot in a church. And I read that both Chamberlain and Wagner claim that the teaching of the church more often weakens, than strengthens, us.”
    “You do not love the Lord Jesus?”
    Alfred paused; he sensed traps everywhere. This was treacherous ground: the headmaster had already referred to himself as a devout Lutheran. Safety lay in staying with Chamberlain, and Alfred struggled to recall the words in his book. “Like Chamberlain, I admire Jesus greatly. Chamberlain calls him a moral genius. He had great power and courage, but unfortunately his teachings were Jewified by Paul, who turned Jesus into a suffering, meek man. Every Christian church shows paintings or stained glass of Jesus being crucified. None show images of the powerful and the courageous Jesus—the Jesus who dared to challenge corrupt rabbis, the Jesus who single-handedly flung moneychangers out of the temple!”
    “So Chamberlain sees Jesus the lion, not Jesus the lamb?”
    “Yes,” said Rosenberg, emboldened. “Chamberlain says that it was a tragedy that Jesus appeared in the place and time he did. If Jesus had preached to Germanic people or, say, to Indian people, his words would have had quite a different influence.”
    “Let us return to my earlier question,” said the headmaster, who realized he had taken the wrong trail. “I have a simple question: whom do you love? Who is your hero? The one whom you admire above all others? Besides this Chamberlain, I mean.”
    Alfred had no immediate answer. He deliberated long before answering. “Goethe.”
    Both Headmaster Epstein and Herr Schäfer straightened a bit in their seats. “Interesting choice, Rosenberg,” said the headmaster. “Your choice or Chamberlain’s?”

    “Both. And I think Herr Schäfer’s choice too. He praised Goethe in our class more than any other.” Alfred looked at Herr Schäfer for confirmation and received an affirming nod.
    “And tell me, why Goethe?” asked the headmaster.
    “He is the eternal German genius. The greatest of Germans. A genius of writing, and science, and art and philosophy. He is a genius in more fields than anyone.”
    “An excellent answer,” said Headmaster Epstein, suddenly energized. “And I believe I now have come upon the perfect pregraduation project for you.”
    The two teachers conferred privately, whispering softly to one another. Headmaster Epstein left the room and returned shortly carrying a large book. He and Schäfer bent over the book together and flipped through the pages for several minutes scanning the text. After the headmaster jotted down some page numbers, he turned to Alfred.
    “Here is your project. You are to read, very carefully, two chapters—fourteen and sixteen—in Goethe’s autobiography, and you are to write down every line that he writes about his own personal hero, a man who lived a long time ago named Spinoza. Surely, you will welcome this assignment. It will be a joy to read some of your hero’s autobiography. Goethe is the man you love, and I imagine it will be of interest to you to learn what he says about the man he loves and admires. Right?”
    Alfred nodded, warily. Baffled by the headmaster’s good spirits, he sensed a trap.
    “So,” the headmaster continued, “let us be very clear about the assignment, Rosenberg. You are to read chapters fourteen and sixteen in Goethe’s autobiography, and you are to copy every sentence he writes about Benedict Spinoza. You are to make three copies, one for you and one for each of us. If we find you miss any of his comments about Spinoza in your written assignment, you will be required to do the whole assignment over again until you have it