Rabbi and Priest

M >> Milton Goldsmith >> Rabbi and Priest

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The rattan which the Rabbi held in his hand, the better to guide his
pupils, was never used for corporal punishment, for a glance or a
whispered admonition from the beloved teacher was more potent than were
blows from another. At his side sat his little daughter Recha, scarcely
nine years of age, whose features gave promise of great oriental beauty.
Her dark eyes and darker hair, her rosy lips and merry smile, formed a
veritable symphony of childish loveliness. Recha deemed it a great favor
to be allowed in the room with her father during school-hours, and as
her presence exercised a refining influence over the boys, each one of
whom loved the girl in his own juvenile way, the Rabbi offered no
objections.

The boys were being instructed in a difficult passage of the Talmud.
Following the movements of the Rabbi's head and body they recited their
appropriate lines. Like a mighty _crescendo_ swelled the chorus, for the
greater the pupil's zeal the louder rose his voice, and ever and anon
they were inspired to quicker time, to greater enthusiasm, until the
lesson came to an end.

Alas, poor boys! Taken from the cheerful sunlight to pass the days of
happy boyhood in wading through heaps of useless learning, tutored in a
philosophy which demands age and experience for its perfect
comprehension; of what use can all this Talmud delving be to you, when
once life summons you to more practical duties? And yet how much better
this training, confusing and bewildering though it be, than the absolute
ignorance, the unchecked illiteracy of the Russian Christians.

Rabbi Jeiteles interrupted his class to amplify upon the passage just
read. He had been a great traveller in his youth, had wandered through
Austria and Germany, and had picked up disconnected scraps of worldly
information, to which, in a measure, his superiority in Kief was due.
There were envious calumniators who did not hesitate to assert that the
Rabbi was a _meshumed_ (a renegade), that his mind had become polluted
with ideas and thoughts at variance with Judaism, that he had in his
possession--_O mirabile dictu!_--a copy of the Mendelssohnian
translation of the Pentateuch, against which a ban had been hurled.
These were but rumors, however, and the better class of Hebrews paid no
attention to them.

The passage under consideration was the beautiful legend concerning the
necessity of understanding the Law, and the Rabbi undertook to elucidate
its somewhat difficult construction. According to the wise scribes of
the Talmud, each soul after death enters into the presence of its maker,
and is asked to give a reason for not having studied the _Torah_. If
poverty is offered as an excuse, he is reminded of Hillel, who though
poor deprived himself of life's comforts that he might enjoy God's word.
If the burdens and cares of wealth are advanced in palliation, he is
reminded of Eleazer, who abandoned his lands and possessions to seek the
consolation of knowledge. If a man pleads temptations and weakness to
excuse a life of evil, he is told of Joseph's constancy. In short, it is
incumbent on all to understand God's commandments and to obey them, for
"the beginning of wisdom is the fear of the Lord."

Silence reigned in the class-room, while the Rabbi, in explanation of
his subject, related incidents that had occurred to him during his
eventful career. The interest was intense, numerous questions were asked
and graciously answered, and the _mishna_ was again taken up.

At length the lesson came to an end and the school was dismissed. The
pupils, glad to be released from their duties, bade their teacher
good-by and tripped out into the inviting sunlight. Mendel alone
remained.

"Well, my boy, what is it?" asked the Rabbi, as Mendel gazed wistfully
at him.

"Rabbi, are you going out for your walk?" he asked, timidly.

"Yes," answered the other, surprised at the question.

"May I accompany you? I have so much to ask of you."

The Rabbi gladly acquiesced. Although Mendel had been but six months
under his tuition, he had already become his favorite pupil. His quick
perception and wonderful originality of thought attracted the teacher.

The teacher and pupil walked through the miserable streets of the
quarter until they reached the open fields. Here the Rabbi stopped and
drew a long breath.

"How different this is," he said, "from the contaminated air one
breathes in the narrow lanes of our quarter."

"You have travelled much, Rabbi," said the boy. "Tell me, are the Jews
treated as cruelly all over the world as they are in Russia?"

"Unfortunately they are, in some other countries. Why do you ask?"

"Because I think--Rabbi, are we not ourselves to blame for our wretched
existence?"

Jeiteles looked at the boy in surprise.

"That is a very grave question for a boy of your age," he said. "What
gave you such an idea?"

"I have been thinking very much of late that if we were more like other
people we might be made to suffer less."

"God forbid that we should become like them," answered the Rabbi,
hastily. "Israel's greatest calamities have been caused by aping the
fashions of other nations. Our only salvation lies in clinging to our
customs and faith. Do not attempt to judge your elders until you are
more conversant with your own religion. Obey the Law and do not trouble
yourself concerning the religious observances of your people."

The boy took the rebuke meekly and the two walked on in silent
meditation. After a pause, Mendel again took up the conversation.

"In to-day's lesson," he said, "we learned that the fear of God is the
beginning of wisdom; that study is God's special command. A wise Rabbi
furthermore said upon this subject: 'He gains wisdom who is willing to
receive from all sources.' Am I right?"

"You have quoted correctly. Go on!"

"Is there any passage in the Talmud which forbids the learning of a
foreign language or the reading of a book not written in Hebrew?"

The Rabbi gazed thoughtfully upon the ground but could not recollect
such a passage.

"Last week," continued Mendel, "while in the city, I saw a book in
Russian characters. I bought it and took it home to study. My uncle tore
the book from my hands and threw it into the fire, all the time
bewailing that anything so impure had been brought into the house. Then
I was obliged to run to the house of worship and pray until sunset for
forgiveness. Was there anything so very wrong in trying to learn
something beside the Talmud?"

The worthy Rabbi was sorely puzzled for a reply. His knowledge of the
world had long ago opened his eyes to the narrow-minded bigotry which
swayed the Russian Jewish people in their prejudices against anything
foreign. He, too, deplored the fact that intellects so bright and alert
should be content to linger in these musty catacombs. Full well he knew
that the constant searching for hidden meanings in the Scriptures was
the direct cause of many of the superstitions which had crept into
Judaism. He, too, had in his youth yearned for more extended knowledge
than that derived from the Talmud's folios, and had in secret studied
the Russian and German languages at the risk of being discovered and
branded as a heretic. He understood the boy's craving and sympathized
with him; but could he conscientiously advise him to brave the
opposition and prejudices of his people and pursue that knowledge to
which he aspired?

"Well, Rabbi," said the boy, eagerly, "you do not answer. Have I
violated any law by asking such a question?"

Rabbi Jeiteles wiping his perspiring brow with a large red handkerchief,
sat down upon a moss-grown log and bade the boy sit at his side.

"My dear Mendel," he began, "you are scarcely old or experienced enough
to comprehend the gravity of your question. It is important for Israel
the world over to remain unpolluted by the influence of gentile customs.
The Messiah will surely come, nor can his arrival be far off, and a new
kingdom, a united power will reward us for our past sufferings and
present faith. Were Israel to become tainted with foreign ideas, she
would in each country develop different propensities, learn different
languages and her religion would become contaminated by all that is most
obnoxious in other faiths. It is to preserve the unity of Israel, the
similarity of thought, the purity of our religion, that we look with
horror upon any foreign learning. Now, compare our mental condition with
that of the Russian _moujiks_, or even nobles. What do they know? What
have they studied? Very little, indeed! They know nothing of the great
deeds of the past that are revealed to us through the Scriptures; they
cannot enjoy the grand and majestic philosophy of our God-inspired
rabbis. Brought up in utter ignorance, their life may be likened to a
desert, barren of all that pleases the eye and elevates the mind."

"But," interrupted the boy, "might we not hold on to our own, even while
we are learning from the gentiles? Our language, for example, is, as I
have heard you say, a terrible jargon. We have forgotten much of our
Hebrew and use many strange words instead. We have but to open our
mouths to be recognized at once as Jews and to be treated with contempt.
If we were but to learn the Russian language, it might save us from many
a cruel humiliation and the Hebrew tongue might still be preserved in
our own circle."

"You mistake, my boy; our humiliations do not proceed from any one
fact, such as jargon or customs, but from a variety of circumstances
combined, principal among which are envy of our domestic happiness,
fanaticism because of our rejection of the Christian religion, and a
cruel prejudice which has been handed down through generations from
father to son. No amount of learning on our side can change this.
Persecutions will continue, the gentiles will never learn that the Jew
is made of flesh and blood and has sentiments and feelings the same as
they. Our right to humane treatment will not be recognized any more than
at present, and harder, unspeakably harder, will be the sting and pain
of our degradation, if by deep study we rise mentally above our sphere.
The ignorant man suffers less than the person with elevated
susceptibilities. Learning, therefore, while it would not improve our
treatment at the hands of the gentiles, would but serve to make us the
more discontented with our own unfortunate condition."

The Rabbi was right; he spoke from bitter experience, and Mendel slipped
his hand into that of his teacher and gazed thoughtfully before him.

"A great head," muttered the old man, looking fondly at the boy. "If his
energies are directed into the proper channels, he will become a shining
light in Israel."

"Come, Mendel, let us go home," he said aloud, and they started silently
for the town, both too much engrossed in thought to speak. Only once,
Mendel asked:

"Rabbi, you are not offended by my questions?" and the Rabbi replied:

"No, my boy. On the contrary, I am glad that you are beginning to think
for yourself. The world is but a group of thinkers and the best heads
among them are usually leaders. This has been an agreeable walk to me.
Let us repeat it soon."

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," cried Mendel, with undisguised
delight. "And if you will be so kind, I should like to hear all about
your travels."

The Rabbi promised, and, having reached the Jewish quarter, pupil and
teacher parted for their respective homes.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 6: Wallace, p. 179.]

[Footnote 7: Foulke, "Slav or Saxon," p. 91.]

[Footnote 8: Rabbi Chonan.]

[Footnote 9: "Graetz's History of the Jews," vol. 4, p. 309.]

CHAPTER XI.

THE RETURN OF THE RENEGADE.

It was just a week since Mendel and the Rabbi had walked out together.

Hirsch Bensef rushed with gigantic strides up the street leading to his
house, and long before he reached his door he shouted, at the top of his
voice:

"Miriam! Miriam! I have news for you!"

Miriam had recovered her health, and was in the kitchen preparing meat
for the following day. This was a most important operation, requiring
the housewife's undivided attention. According to a Mosaic command blood
was sacrificed upon the altar of the Temple, but was strictly forbidden
as an article of diet. The animal is slaughtered in a manner which will
drain off the greatest amount of the life-giving fluid, and great
importance is attached to the processes for extracting every particle of
blood from the meat which is brought upon the Jewish table. A thorough
rubbing with salt and an hour's immersion in water are necessary to its
preparation. Scientists who acknowledge that the blood is the general
vehicle for conveying the parasites and germs of disease, recognize in
this command of Moses a valuable sanitary measure, worthy of universal
imitation.

Miriam heard her husband's distant call and, with her hands full of
salt, she ran to the door.

Hirsch entered, completely out of breath.

"Who do you think has arrived?" he gasped.

"How should I know?"

"Guess."

"I might guess from now until the coming of _Meschiach_ and still not be
right."

"Pesach Harretzki, your cousin and old admirer."

Miriam sank into a chair and a smile rippled over her pretty features.

"Pesach Harretzki here? When did he arrive?"

"To-day. This morning. Itzig Maier, who knows all the news in town, has
just told me. He has come back from America to visit his old parents and
take them with him across the ocean."

"Has he changed much?" asked Miriam.

"No doubt of it! Itzig says he is without a beard and looks more like a
_goy_ (gentile) than like one of our own people. I suppose he has lost
what religion he once possessed, which by the way was not much."

"You will invite him to call on us, of course."

Hirsch looked askance at his wife and frowned.

"I don't know," he answered, reflectively; "we shall see."

Hirsch Bensef, the _parnas_ of the chief congregation, and whose
reputation for piety overtopped that of any other man of the community,
might well pause before inviting the new arrival to his house. Pesach
Harretzki was one of those perverse lads that one meets occasionally in
a Hebrew community, who, feeling the wild impulse of youth in every
vein, throws over the holy traditions of his forefathers and follows
rather the promptings of his own heart than that happiness which can
only be found in a firm adherence to the law and its precepts.
Unrestrained by his parents' anxious pleadings, bound by no will save
that of momentary caprice, he overstepped the boundary which separates
the pious Jew from his profane surroundings and thereby forfeited the
respect and good-will of the entire community. The young man had never
been guilty of actual wrong-doing, but had in a thousand petty ways
displayed his utter disregard of the customs that were so dear to the
hearts of his co-religionists. The Sabbath found him strolling through
the city instead of attending divine service at the synagogue. Of the
Talmud he knew very little, having preferred to play with his gentile
friends to wasting his hours in the _cheder_. He had been known to eat
_trefa_ at the house of a _goy_, and with a fastidiousness that was
without parallel in the annals of Kief, he had shaved off all of his
beard, leaving only a jaunty little mustache. So it happened that his
name became a terror to all pious Israelites. There was but one
attraction in Judaism which still fascinated Pesach, and that was his
charming cousin Miriam. She alone possessed the power of bringing him
back when he had strayed too far from the fold and her bright eyes often
recalled him to a sense of duty. He loved the girl, and had she shown
him any encouragement he might still have reformed the evil of his ways.
But even had Miriam favored his advances, her father, one of the most
pious men of Kief, would have dispelled all hope of an alliance between
the two. Old Reb Kohn, after endeavoring in vain to bring the reprobate
to his senses, finally forbade him the house. Shortly after, the
betrothal of Miriam Kohn with the learned and wealthy Hirsch Bensef was
announced. Pesach became despondent and put the finishing touch to his
ungodly career by becoming intoxicated with beer on the Passover. In
consequence of this and former misdeeds, he was ostracized from good
Jewish society, and finding himself shunned by his former associates he
departed from Kief to seek his fortune in a foreign land.

After wandering about Germany for a year or two, picking up a precarious
living and a varied experience, he set sail for America, where he
arrived without a penny. Fortune smiled upon the poor man at last. He
drifted into an inland city, Americanized his name to Philip Harris, and
succeeded, through honesty, thrift and perseverance, in building up a
large business and accumulating a respectable fortune. It was only after
success had been assured that he communicated with his parents in
Russia, and in spite of his past record great was the rejoicing when the
first letter was received. He whom his friends had mourned as dead was
alive and thriving; he had moreover become rich and respected and had
been the means of establishing a Jewish synagogue in the land of his
adoption. The last two facts, coupled with the munificent gifts which he
sent to the synagogue in Kief and to his parents, were sufficient to
lift the ban which had so long rested upon his name and to re-establish
him in the good graces of the community. Pesach, the _meshumed_,
continued these contributions to the synagogue and to his parents, and
the Jews of Kief, having forgotten his former escapades, referred to him
thenceforth as "Pesach the Generous." He had now returned after an
absence of twelve years, and the whole settlement was in a state of
pardonable excitement.

"Is he still a Jew? Has he remained true to the old faith?" was asked on
every side.

It being Friday, the Sabbath eve, the synagogue was crowded and
curiosity to see the stranger was at its height. The men frequently
looked up from their prayer-books, and the women from their seats in the
gallery craned their necks to get a view of the sunburnt, closely-shaven
American. Yes, he had changed; no one would have recognized him. Of all
the pious men that filled the house of worship, he was the only one who
was without a beard. It was against the Jewish custom to allow a razor
to touch the beard, and had not Philip's benevolence paved the way it is
doubtful whether his presence would have been tolerated within those
sacred precincts. In all other respects, however, he bore himself like a
devout Israelite. He stood by the side of his father, earnestly scanning
the pages of his prayer-book, the greater part of whose contents were
still familiar to him. His beardless face was in a measure atoned for.

What a throng of visitors there was that evening at Harretzkis house!
The little room could scarcely hold them all. Among them was Rabbi
Jeiteles, who shook the suave and smiling stranger by the hand,
congratulated him upon his appearance and asked him a hundred questions
about his travels. Indeed, it seemed as though the worthy Rabbi intended
to monopolize his company for the rest of the evening. Then came Hirsch
Bensef and his charming wife, the latter trembling and blushing in
recollection of the days when she and her cousin Pesach loved each
other in secret. Philip recognized her immediately.

"Why this is my dear cousin Miriam," he said. "How well you look! You
seem scarcely a day older than when I left you. Is this your husband?
Happy man! How I used to envy you your good fortune? But that is all
over now!" and he turned with a sigh to meet other friends.

He recollected every man and woman in Kief; moreover, he had a kind word
and pretty compliment for each and the worthy people returned home more
than ever impressed with the true excellence of Pesach Harretzki.

"What a _medina_ (country) America must be to make such a finished
product of the ungodly youth that Kief turned out of doors twelve years
ago!" Such was Bensef's remark to his wife, as they wended their way
homeward.

On the Sabbath morn the capacity of the synagogue was again tested to
the utmost. Those who had not yet seen Philip hastened to avail
themselves of this opportunity. The man from America had become the
greatest curiosity in the province. And to him, the great traveller,
every incident, however trivial, served to recall a vision of the past.
The devout men about him, wearing the fringed _tallis_, the venerable
Rabbi at the _almemor_, the ark with the same musty hangings, the
Pentateuch scrolls with the same faded covers which they bore in the
years gone by, all appealed mightily to his heart and a tear forced
itself unchecked through his lashes. Philip would have been unable to
explain to himself the cause of his emotion. The past had not been
particularly pleasant; there was nothing to regret. Perhaps some
psychologist can account for that sweet and melancholy sentiment which
the recollection of a dim and half-forgotten past brings in its train.

It was delightful to Philip to find himself once more in the presence of
all that had been dear to him. His mind reviewed the many vicissitudes
he had undergone, the many changes he had witnessed, and he fervently
thanked the God of Israel that he was permitted to revisit the scenes of
his childhood, and that the people who had rejected him in his youth now
received him with open arms. After prayers the _hazan_ (reader),
assisted by the Rabbi, opened the Holy Ark and took therefrom one of the
scrolls. To Philip, as a stranger, was accorded the honor of being one
of those called up to say the blessing over the _Torah_ (Law). He
touched the parchment with the fringes of his _tallis_, kissed them to
signify his reverence for the holy words, and began with "_Bar'chu eth
Adonai_."

"He knows his _brocha_ yet, he is still a good Jew!" was the mental
comment of the congregation.

Then followed Rabbi Jeiteles in a short but pithy address, in which he
laid great stress upon the fact that Jehovah never allows his lambs to
stray far from the fold, and that charity and benevolence cover a
multitude of sins. He incidentally announced the fact that Harretzki had
offered the synagogue new hangings for the ark, covers for the scrolls
and an entirely new metal roof for the _schul_ (synagogue) in place of
the present one, which was sadly out of repair.

Such generosity was unparalleled. In spite of the sanctity of the place,
expressions of approval were loud and emphatic. For a time the services
were interrupted and general congratulations took the place of the
prayers. Philip's popularity was now assured. All opposition vanished
and the American became a lion indeed. Bensef no longer hesitated as to
the propriety of inviting the stranger to his house. As _parnas_ he must
be the first to do him honor and after the services were at an end the
invitation was extended and accepted.

It was a pleasant assemblage that gathered at Bensef's house. Philip,
his father and mother, Rabbi Jeiteles, Haim Goldheim (a banker and
intimate friend of the host), and several other patriarchal gentlemen,
pillars of the congregation, were of the company. Miriam was an
excellent provider and on this occasion she fairly outdid herself.

"Perhaps," thought Bensef, "there still lingers in her breast a spark of
affection for the man who is now so greatly honored."

But, no! Miriam loved her husband dearly, and if she was attentive to
her cousin it was but the courtesy due to a man who had been so far and
seen so much.

Mendel, too, was at the table and could not take his eyes from the
handsome stranger whose praises every mouth proclaimed. The boy regarded
him as a superior being.

Tales of adventure, stories of travel, were the topics of conversation
during the evening. After the dessert the talk took a more serious turn.
The liberty enjoyed by the Jews in America was a fruitful theme for
discussion and many were the questions asked by the interested group.
That Israelites were politically and socially placed upon the same
footing with their Christian neighbors was a source of gratification,
but that some religious observances were in many cases neglected or
totally abolished, appeared to these pious listeners as very
reprehensible.

"You see," said Philip, in explanation, "where a number of Jewish
families reside in one place it is still possible to obey the dietary
laws, but in inland towns, where the number of Israelite families is
limited, it becomes an impossibility to observe them. Nor do they deem
it necessary that all the ceremonies that time has collected around the
Jewish religion should be strictly observed. Those Israelites who
soonest adopt the customs of their new country soonest enjoy the
benefits which a free and liberty-loving nation offers."

Hirsch Bensef shook his head, doubtingly.

"Then you mean to imply that it becomes necessary to abolish those
usages in which one's heart and soul are wrapped!" he said.

"Not at all," answered the American. "There are thousands of Jews in
America as observant of the ordinances as the most pious in Kief. Yet it
seems to me that a Jew can remain a Jew even if he neglect some of those
ceremonials which have very little to do with Judaism pure and simple.
Some are remnants of an oriental symbolism, others comparatively recent
additions to the creed, which ought to give way before civilization.
What possible harm can it do you or your religion if you shave your
beard or abandon your jargon for the language of the people among whom
you live?"

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