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A short story by Isaac Loeb Peretz |
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A Chat |
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Title: A Chat Author: Isaac Loeb Peretz [More Titles by Peretz] It is warm, real holiday weather, and Reb Shachneh, a tall, thin Jew, one of the last old Kotzkers,[111] and Reb Zerach, one of the few remaining old Belzers,[111] are taking a stroll outside the town.
As young men they had been enemies, hating each other heart and soul. Reb Shachneh led the Kotzkers against the Belzers, and Reb Zerach, the Belzers against the Kotzkers. But now that they are old, and Kotzkers are "not what they were," and Belzers have lost their "go," they have separated themselves from their former associates, and left the meeting-rooms where less pious, but younger and stronger, men have taken the lead. They made peace in the synagogue, in winter time, beside the stove, and now, on this intermediate day of Passover, on the first fine afternoon, they have come out together for a walk. The sun shines in a wide, blue sky. The little grasses are springing up through the mould, and one can distinctly see the angel who stands beside each blade, and cries: grow, grow! Little birds fly about in flocks, looking for last year's nests, and Reb Shachneh says to Reb Zerach: "A Kotzker, you see, I mean a real Kotzker--the present ones don't count--never thought much of the Haggadah."[112]
"But only of the dumplings?" smiles Reb Zerach. "Never mind about the dumplings!" answers Reb Shachneh, gravely, "and don't laugh. You know the meaning of 'thou shalt not deliver up a slave to his master?'" "For me," says the Belzer with humble pride, "it is enough to know the hidden meaning of the prayers!" Reb Shachneh pretends not to have heard, and continues: "The literal interpretation is simple enough: If a slave, or a servant, or a serf, run away, one may not, according to the Law, catch him, bind him, and give him up to his master--it is evident, if a man runs away, his very life was endangered. But the hidden meaning is also quite clear: the body here below is a slave--it is the servant of the soul. The body is sinful, it sees a piece of pork, an idol, a woman, what not, and is ready to jump out of its skin. But when the soul says, thou shalt not! it must desist. "On the other hand, suppose the soul desires to perform a religious act. The body must be up and doing, however tired and harassed. The hands must work, the feet must run, the lips move--and why? The soul, the lord, commands! And therefore it is written: 'Thou shalt not deliver up!' "The body may not be handed over unconditionally to the soul. The fiery soul would speedily burn it to ashes. Had the Creator wished for souls without bodies, he would not have made the world. "The body also has its rights. 'He who fasts much is a sinner.' The body must eat. He who would ride must feed his horse! Comes a feast, a holiday--be merry, too! Take a sip of brandy, rejoice, body, likewise! And the soul rejoices and the body rejoices--the soul in the benediction, and the body in the glass! "Passover, the season of our deliverance--here, body, catch a dumpling! And it is inspirited and cheered, and rejoices to fulfil the commandment. "Farewell, dumpling! Brother, do not laugh." Reb Zerach opines that the matter is a deep one and worth consideration; but he himself does not eat Sheruyah?[113]
"Do you enjoy Passover cakes dry?" "For dessert?" smiles Reb Zerach. "And where are my teeth to eat them with?" "How then do you observe the precept: 'And thou shalt rejoice in thy feasts,' as regards the body?" "All sorts of ways. If it likes currant wine--well and good. I myself revel in the Haggadah. I sit and repeat and count the plagues, and count and double them and multiply." "Materialism!" "Materialism? After all the misery and the hard labor--after the long exile of the Divine Presence? In my opinion, there ought to be a custom introduced of repeating the plagues seven times, and seven times 'Pour out thy wrath!' But the great thing is the plagues! I delight in them. I wish I could open the door at the plagues--let them hear! Why should I be afraid? Do you suppose they understand Hebrew?" Reb Shachneh is silent for a while, and then he relates the following: "Listen! This is what happened one day with us. I assure you I won't exaggerate. In perhaps the tenth house from the Rebbe's of blessed memory, there lived a Shochet who was (may I be forgiven for saying so--he is no more of this world) a mad butcher, a butcher among butchers, one in a thousand. A neck like a bull's, eyebrows like bristles, hands like logs, and a voice, a voice! When he spoke, it sounded like distant thunder, or musketry. He must have been at one time or another a Belzer." "Well, well," growls Reb Zerach. "Well, and," continues Reb Shachneh, coolly, "he used to pray with the most extravagant gestures, with shouts and whispers. "His 'they shall remember' reminded one of sprinkling fire with water." "Let that pass!" "You can fancy the uproar when a fellow like this sat down to the Haggadah. In the Rebbe's chamber we could hear every word. He read, of course, like a butcher, and the laugh went round. "The Rebbe of blessed memory scarcely moved his lips, and yet everyone could see that he was smiling. Later, however, when the butcher began to count the plagues, so that they shot from his mouth like bullets, and brought his fist down on the table, so that the glasses rang again, the Rebbe of blessed memory became melancholy." "Melancholy? On a feast-day? Passover? What do you mean?" "Well, we asked him the reason why!" "And what did he answer?" "God Himself," was his reply, "became melancholy on the occasion of the Exodus." "Where had he found that?" "It's a Midrash![114] When the children of Israel had crossed the Red Sea, and the water had covered up and drowned Pharaoh and all his host, then the angels began to sing songs, seraphim and ophanim flew into all the seven heavens with hymns and glad tidings, all the stars and planets danced and sang, and the celestial bodies--you can guess what rejoicings! But the Creator put an end to them. A Voice issued from the Throne: "'My children are being drowned in the sea, and you rejoice and sing?'
"Because God created even Pharaoh and all his host, even the devil himself, and it is written: 'His tender mercies are over all His works.'" "Certainly!" sighs Reb Zerach. He says nothing more for a while, and then asks: "And if it is a Midrash, what has he added to it to deserve praise?" Reb Shachneh stands still, and says gravely: "First, Belzer fool, no one has the duty to be original; there is no chronological order in the Law--the new is old, the old is new. Secondly, he showed us why we recite the Haggadah, even the plagues in the Haggadah, to a mournful "Sinni" tune, a tune that is steeped in grief. "Thirdly, he translated the precept: Al tismàch Yisroel el Gil ko-Ammim: Materialist, rejoice not in a coarse way--you are no boor! Revenge is not for Jews." [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |