Читать книгу The Rabbi of Worms - M. K. Hammond - Страница 13

Josef rose early one Saturday morning and left the house before dawn, without waking his mother. He didn’t want her to know where he was going. She might not raise objections, but on the other hand she might, so it was better not to tell her.

It was still cool outside, but the damp, motionless air portended another hot August day. Josef walked quickly to the meeting place. His heart beat rapidly from the exertion, or perhaps from excitement. He was finally going to attend a Sabbath service at the synagogue! Mosche had told him what to expect and had explained some of the customs to him; nevertheless he felt he was entering an unknown world, full of mystery. Well, at least his friend would be sitting beside him.

Mosche was waiting for him outside the gate of the courtyard. In the dim light Josef could see only an outline of the building—the warm pink stones now looked dark grey. As the boys approached the synagogue, Mosche whispered, “We have to wipe our feet before we go in.” He scraped his shoes on an iron rod near the door, removing the dirt. Josef did likewise. They went in.

“Men are supposed to cover their heads for prayer,” said Mosche quietly as the heavy door closed behind them. He pulled out two small cloth caps from inside his shirt and handed one to Josef. “Put this on,” he said.

The boys found seats in a rear corner and settled back to wait for the service to begin. After about half an hour, men and boys began to arrive. Most of the men wore long tunics hanging loosely around their bodies and wooden sandals on their feet, and all wore head coverings. Women and girls came in, too. They made their way to the rear corner opposite the two boys and disappeared behind a curtain. A few of the men carried small scrolls with them. After finding a place to sit on the bare, wooden benches, the men bowed their heads and began to recite. Mosche told Josef to listen carefully—he might recognize some of the prayers he had learned by heart. Watching and hearing the men’s quiet droning, Josef felt as if he were in a dream.

Suddenly he was startled by three loud knocks. The doors of the synagogue swung open and the Sabbath procession began. Leading the way were several older boys. Behind them came scroll-bearers holding great, large rolls of sheepskin. Following the scroll-bearers were several dignified-looking men with long beards. They must be rabbis, thought Josef. Little boys scampered along at the end of the procession, trying to keep up. A few of their fathers entered behind them and found seats.

When the procession reached the front of the room, the little boys ran back to sit with their fathers. The older boys at the head of the line peeled off to the right and left and stood beside the reading desk. One of the worshippers was called forward. He gently took the assigned scroll from the man who was holding it, cradled it in his arms, and kissed it. He carried it around to the older boys standing near the desk and allowed each of them to kiss it. Then these boys, too, joined their fathers in the congregation.

A cantor came forward and began to sing the opening prayers. The tune he sang was plain and repetitive, rising and falling by only a few tones. His loud, rough voice was not agreeable to the ear—in fact few seemed to be listening. Many in the congregation continued reciting prayers out loud. Others were speaking to friends seated near them.

When the cantor stopped singing, the man who had kissed the scroll took it to the reading desk and unrolled it. One of the bearded men, who Mosche said was the officiating reader, walked up and stood beside him at the desk. The first man read the selected passage, while the second leaned toward the scroll and followed along word by word, nodding to indicate his agreement. Even while the man read from the scroll, some of the men in the pews went on reciting their private prayers. Josef strained to hear what the reader was saying. In church, he thought, no one would dare talk out loud while the priest was reading Scripture! At least the men were speaking quietly—Josef was able to understand most of what was read. He didn’t want to miss anything. The passage was from the second book of Moses. Josef had studied it with Mosche and so he knew most of the Hebrew words.

“And Moses said unto the Lord, Pardon, O Lord, I am not a man of words, neither yesterday, nor the day before, nor since thou hast spoken unto thy servant; for I am heavy of speech and heavy of tongue. And the Lord said unto him, Who has given a mouth to man? or who maketh him dumb, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? is it not I the Lord? Now therefore go, and I will be with thy mouth, and I will teach thee what thou shalt speak. And he said, Pardon, O Lord, I pray thee send some other person. And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Moses, and he said, Is there not Aaron, thy brother, the Levite? I know that he can speak well; and also, behold, he cometh forth to meet thee; and when he seeth thee, he will be glad in his heart. And thou shalt speak unto him, and put the words in his mouth: and I will be with thy mouth, and with his mouth, and I will teach you what ye shall do. And he shall speak for thee unto the people; and he shall be, yea he shall be to thee as a mouth, and thou shalt be to him as a god.”

When the reading ended, many fathers in the congregation turned to their sons, touched their heads, and recited a blessing. Meanwhile, the reader rolled up the scroll and handed it to the bearded man beside him, who placed it on the altar beside the other scrolls. Now a younger man strode forward, said a brief blessing in Hebrew, and began to speak with an animated voice in ordinary, everyday language. Josef was glad for that—he would understand it better than Hebrew. Men in the congregation paid more attention now. The only distractions were occasional noises made by little boys.

“If we look for the literal or plain meaning in this passage, it is clear,” said the speaker. “The Lord supplies exactly what we need in proportion to our need for it. Moses didn’t speak well. The Lord said, ‘I will be with your mouth and teach you what to say.’ Moses asked him to pick someone else. The Lord said, ‘I know that your brother Aaron can speak well. I will be with your mouth and his mouth, and he will speak to the people for you.’ The plain meaning is simple enough: Moses needed a spokesman, and the Lord gave him one. But let us look more closely at the text. It says Moses was heavy of speech and heavy of tongue. What does this mean? It means words did not roll off his tongue, but sat heavily like lead pellets in his mouth. Speaking was difficult because his tongue was weighed down by words of fear, complaint, and refusal. However, the Lord would soon replace the words of lead with words of gold, still heavy but shining and beautiful.

“The Lord had given a mouth to Moses in the first place and promised to inspire his mouth, to fill it with good words and empty it into Aaron’s ear. Aaron would be glad in his heart when he saw his brother Moses again. Aaron had the willingness that Moses lacked. Each brother had something the other needed: Moses had words, Aaron had speech. Neither could do the Lord’s work alone. This is how brothers should help each other and support each other. We are all of us brothers and should do likewise.”

“But what if my brother tries to cheat me?” called out a man from his seat in the congregation.

“We should not squabble and fight among ourselves as some of you do far too often. Where does that lead us? It leads to death. Remember the first brothers, Cain and Abel. They squabbled and what was the result? As our great Rabbi Scholomo says, ‘Cain quarreled with Abel and found a pretext to kill him.’ It leads to death. We must work out our differences peaceably. You may appeal to an arbiter if necessary.”

A man seated near the back spoke up, “My brother is always short of money, on account of his laziness. Should I give him charity when he asks?”

“That is for you to decide. Of course you must encourage your brother to work for himself and to support his family. But also remember that Aaron lifted Moses’ hands high when he could not. ‘When the hands of Moses became heavy, they took a stone, and put it under him, and he sat thereon; and Aaron and Chur supported his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side; and his hands were steady until the going down of the sun.’ And because of this, Israel defeated Amalek. Moses, in sympathy with his suffering people, would not sit in comfort, but on a stone, and Aaron would not rest while his brother needed help. Remember this when your brother needs help.”

“Torah and Talmud are fine to study in the schoolroom,” cried out yet another man, “but they are far removed from our daily lives.”

“There you are wrong,” said the preacher. “If you study the commentaries, especially the commentaries of our good Rabbi Scholomo, you will find that Scripture is truly for school and house. The Rabbi uses analogies and logic and stories (wonderful stories of real people) to teach us how to apply the text in our lives. We learn that the Bible is not only a book of law, but also a source of purpose and hope. It appeals to the heart as well as the head.” When no more questions came, the preacher bowed his head and recited a poem in Hebrew. Josef thought he recognized it, perhaps one of the Psalms, about Israel’s love for Zion and for the Torah that came forth from Zion.

After the preacher had finished, two of the bearded men opened the box on the altar and laid the scrolls inside. A man seated in the front row went forward with a taper and lit the oil lamp on the altar, to indicate that the Torah was in its place. More prayers were said.

When the bearded men sat down, a tall, slender man walked forward and faced the congregation. He was pale and not very steady on his feet. Trying to suppress a cough, he explained that his father had died and he did not have sufficient funds for the burial. Could anyone help him? A few hands went up. The cantor came down the aisle, approached each man who raised his hand, secured a pledge, and recited, “God bless Levi (or Samuel, or Elihu) who will contribute such-and-such to a charitable cause.”

The cantor returned to his place at the front. He read aloud the names of donors who, over the past week, had redeemed the highest pledges, thereby purchasing the right to perform certain functions at the next Sabbath service. Everyone hoped to be selected, Mosche explained, for the honor of lighting the lamps or reading Torah. Some of those whose names were not called muttered their disappointment. The cantor raised his voice over the murmurs, reminding the congregation to return later with contributions pledged for the poor box.

Now an old bearded man stepped forward and stood in front of the altar. With both hands he was holding a large, silver cup. Josef knew the service was near its end. Mosche had told him that when the rabbi blessed the wine it was time for him to leave. Otherwise he would be caught in the crowd of people going toward the door and would have to pass under the rabbi’s nose.

Yet Josef did not move. He was fascinated to watch the rabbi turn and lift the cup toward the altar, like a priest would do during the Mass. Josef wanted to hear the blessing, to know whether the words would be the same as the priest said, but just then he felt a sharp poke in his side. Mosche motioned for him to get out quickly. Josef tip-toed to the door, pushed it open a crack, and slipped through. He walked across the courtyard and found a spot beside the wall where he could watch people coming out. Soon the door opened. Just inside, Josef could see several of the bearded men standing, including the one holding the cup of wine. Every boy who came through the door took the hand of one of the bearded men and kissed it. The man, in turn, put his hand on the boy’s head and blessed him. Then the boy was allowed to take a sip of wine from the cup.

Mosche went through the line with the others. Josef was eager to talk with his friend about the service; he was glad when Mosche broke away from the crowd and came over to him. They went out the gate and into the street.

“What did it taste like?” asked Josef.

“You mean the wine? It’s good. Kind of sweet, but not as sweet as honey.”

“Who was the preacher?”

“One of the scholars who studies in the Jeschiba. You were lucky he was the speaker—some of them are really boring.”

“Why do people promise money instead of bringing it in their wallets?”

“On Sabbath day, we’re not supposed to touch real money. So instead we make pledges. Later we bring our money to one of the rabbis, who passes it on to the people who need it.”

The boys talked about other parts of the service as they walked slowly toward Market Street. At the corner, Mosche said he couldn’t go any further.

“Okay. I’ll see you on Monday. Will you go to Mass with me then?”

Mosche frowned. “I didn’t promise I would go. I just said I’d think about it.”

Josef made a wry face. “Okay. You tell me when.”

•

Ten days later, on a Tuesday morning, Josef and Mosche sat at the back of St. Paul’s Church. A few dozen faithful people, many of them old, had gathered near the front of the church for the early morning Mass. It was too dark inside to recognize faces across the wide expanse, and anyway, the boys were facing the backs of people’s heads. Still, Mosche seemed uneasy. “What if somebody notices me?” he whispered to Josef.

“Don’t worry. Nobody will.”

“How much longer before it starts?”

“It’s starting now. They just lit the candles and the priest is about to come through that side door.”

Mosche sank down lower on the bench and put his hand over part of his face. A young priest came through a door near the front of the church. He was wearing a long, white garment tied at the waist. The priest walked quickly to the altar set against the front wall, and with his back to the congregation, began immediately to chant a nearly monotone series of syllables. Mosche looked at Josef with a curious expression, and Josef shrugged his shoulders. The priest droned on for a quarter of an hour, interrupted only by the occasional tinkling of a small bell. Mosche stopped listening after a while, focusing his attention instead on the decorations all around him. There were statues with gilded features, paintings of biblical scenes, and ornate wood carvings. The stonework here was more elaborate than in the synagogue, though drabber in color. After a time, Josef tapped him on the shoulder and pointed toward the front of the church. The priest was lifting, with both hands above his head, a small white loaf. He placed it on the altar. Next he picked up a grey cup, lifted that too above his head, and said some words the boys could not understand. Still facing the altar, the priest did something with the bread and took a drink from the cup. Finally, he turned around and faced the congregation for the first time. People started moving forward. With the loaf in his hand, the priest stepped out to meet them.

“We can go now,” whispered Josef.

When the boys were outside, Mosche asked, “Is that all there is to it?”

“That’s it. If we came on a Sunday or a feast day, there would be more priests and more stuff happening.”

“That’s even more boring than a bad sermon in the synagogue. What language was the priest speaking?”

“Latin.”

“Can you understand it?”

“No. I’m supposed to start studying with Father Matthias next spring.”

“Do all those people understand Latin?”

“No. Only the priests and a few others.”

“What good is it if they can’t understand it? How can they learn anything?”

“Maybe somebody explains it. The old priest Father Albert taught me some things about the Mass. I guess some of the other kids learn too.”

“Who gets to eat the bread and wine?” asked Mosche.

“People who’ve been approved.”

“What if somebody ate it who wasn’t approved?”

“He would die, I guess.”

“That sounds pretty bad. I think I’ll stick to challah. It’s safer.”

•

Three months later, preparations were being made in the Jewish quarter for an important event. The granddaughter of the late Rabbi Isaak ha-Levi was to be married in the synagogue to a young scholar from Mainz. Not only would the groom’s entire family be coming to Worms, but also friends and rabbis and scholars from other cities on the Rhein and elsewhere. Wormsers had not seen such bustling activity in many years.

Even the Christian community was affected. Large amounts of food and drink would be consumed, and much of it would come from shops outside the Jewish quarter. Also, the visitors would need places to stay. Many Christians living near Jews’ Alley opened their doors to Jewish lodgers, although some wondered whether it was a proper thing to do. In spite of her misgivings, Josef’s mother accepted the request of an elderly merchant from Troyes and his wife. They seemed harmless, and the extra income would be most welcome.

Eliel and Ruth were quiet, unobtrusive people. Neither spoke the local language; they communicated with Josef’s mother by means of smiles and hand signals. Not that a great deal of communication was needed—the couple spent most of the day with their friends in the Jewish quarter. The only meal they took at the house was breakfast, and Mosche had given detailed instructions to Josef about what foods were allowable.

One morning Josef and his mother were sitting at the table with their two lodgers. They had nearly finished eating breakfast when Ruth turned to Josef’s mother and asked a question in her native French, a language neither Josef nor his mother could understand. When they shook their heads, she repeated herself several times, and she took the edge of her skirt between her hands and rubbed vigorously. Still they did not comprehend. Eliel joined the exchange, but it was no use. Finally, in frustration, he pulled out his small Torah and opened it to the second book of Moses. He pointed at a passage of Hebrew text, perhaps hoping these Christians had a Bible of their own and would know what it said. Josef stared at the passage. “It says Moses came down from the mountain and blessed the people, and they washed their clothes. Mutti, I think maybe Ruth would like to wash her clothes.”

“Oh.” She turned to Ruth and said, “Wait a minute.” She went to a cupboard and brought out two buckets and some soap. “Is this what you want?”

Ruth once again spoke some words in her native tongue, but this time she was nodding and smiling. At the bidding of his mother Josef went to fill the buckets with water from the well. Soon after he returned, Ruth began washing her garments.

Now Eliel began pointing to other passages in his Torah. To his astonishment, Josef was able to read all of them aloud in Hebrew. The man began speaking fast in Hebrew, but Josef waved his hands and shook his head. He could not understand modern vocabulary, especially when mixed with foreign idioms, and even the ancient words were unrecognizable if spoken too quickly. Once Eliel slowed down his speech and restricted himself to biblical Hebrew, Josef was able to get the sense of what he said. From then on, the four of them were able to carry on a sort of conversation. Ruth would speak in French, Eliel would translate into biblical Hebrew, and Josef would try to explain to his mother in German what was being said. Then the process would reverse itself. It was slow, but nevertheless it was real communication. The talk was punctuated with laughter when the translations seemed too outlandish.

A friendship developed. Ruth and Eliel began bringing gifts for their hosts each evening. First it was a loaf of challah, then a spinning toy for Josef, then some earrings for his mother. One morning, after their lodgers left for the day, Josef noticed his mother seemed agitated. He asked if something was wrong.

“Yes,” she said. “We should not be accepting these gifts.”

“Why not, Mutti?”

“They are Jews. We should not be too friendly with them.”

“But they’re lodging with us. They want to pay us for giving them a place to stay.”

“Yes. We can accept rent payments, but no more. We don’t want to owe them anything. It’s not right to accept charity from Jews. You know I had doubts about all this in the first place. People say Jews lie and cheat and practice sorcery. If we profit from their devious ways, it might cause a terrible stain on our souls. I’m not sure we could ever be absolved.”

“Oh, Mother, they just want to be friendly.”

“You heard what I said. No more gifts. We’re going to give back the things they gave us . . . except the bread, of course. I hope eating it hasn’t polluted our insides.”

•

A few days later Josef was turning into Jews’ Alley for his pre-dawn study session with Mosche. Through the twilight he saw his friend running toward him. Out of breath and visibly excited, Mosche panted, “The Parshandata has arrived!”

“The what?”

“Parshandata. It means ‘interpreter of the Law’.” Mosche leaned over and took several deep breaths. “You know, . . . Rabbi Scholomo from Troyes. He’s here. He came in last night.”

“Oh! When can we meet him?”

“It’s not that easy. Everybody wants to talk to him. There’s a long list of people who’ve requested judgment on hard questions, even some Christians, I think. Another thing—we can’t use the schoolroom any more while he’s here. It’s reserved for him to use.”

“That means we can’t read any new texts. I guess we can talk about the ones we already read.”

“Something better than that,” said Mosche. “Rabbi Scholomo is going to teach classes every day, and he’s going to give the Sabbath sermon tomorrow afternoon. That’ll give us plenty to talk about.”

“I’m supposed to have my lesson with Father Albert tomorrow. How can I get away?” Josef pressed his lips together. “I’ll figure out something. Will you meet me here and let me go with you to the sermon?”

“Okay. I have to go back home now. There won’t be any deliveries for awhile. We don’t have enough cheeses, even for the wedding guests, so I’m going to help my father make some more. See you tomorrow.”

The next afternoon, Josef went to St. Paul’s Church for his weekly lesson with Father Albert. It crossed his mind that he might skip this meeting entirely and go straight to the Jewish quarter to wait for Mosche. But that might get him in trouble. Besides, he liked Father Albert and didn’t want to disappoint him in any way. What could he say to cut short their lesson? He wouldn’t lie to Father Albert, but he couldn’t tell him the whole truth either.

Josef went to the garden and sat down to think. Soon Father Albert was at his side. Josef looked into his wrinkled face. “Father, I have to leave early today.”

“Really?” The old man raised his eyebrows, creating more wrinkles.

“Yes, it’s very important.”

“Can you tell me where you’re going?”

“Not exactly.”

“Can you tell me approximately what you’ll be doing? Maybe a little hint?”

Josef thought a moment. “Learning something.”

Father Albert smiled. “Ah. Learning is good. But learning can occur in many different ways, some of them dangerous to body and soul. You’re not going to climb a steeple, are you?”

“No, Father.”

“Step on hot coals?”

“No.”

“Handle snakes?”

Josef laughed. “No, Father, none of those things.”

“All right then. You know the ten commandments and the seven deadly sins. If you promise to keep the first and refrain from the second, you may go with my blessing.” He touched the boy’s head.

“I promise. Thank you, Father.” Josef jumped up and ran out of the garden.

Mosche was waiting for him when he arrived at Jews’ Alley. “I’m glad you got here early. People are already going in. Let’s find a seat before it gets too crowded.”

The boys entered the school building and settled into a corner behind a large group of noisy men. It would be nearly an hour before the rabbi spoke, so Josef focused his attention on the conversations swirling around him. He heard words and vocal sounds that were completely foreign to him, in languages that were unrecognizable. He couldn’t even imagine where these people came from. Maybe Mosche would tell him later. There was too much clamor to ask about it now. The noise had a hypnotizing effect that might have put the boys to sleep in other circumstances. Today, however, there was too much excitement in the air, and they were infected by it. After a time, the side door of the schoolhouse opened. Through the door came eight or nine men, some of whom Josef recognized from the synagogue service he had attended. Others were strangers. Which one was Rabbi Scholomo? Maybe it was the tall one with silver hair. There was another man whose beard hung nearly to his waist. Was it him?

The tall man with silver hair raised his hand as the others took seats behind him. The room suddenly became silent. The man announced that Rabbi Scholomo ben Itzhak would be giving the sermon, and that in order to be understood by as many as possible, he would speak in Hebrew. A murmur of approval went up from the crowd. The men near Josef and Mosche whispered to each other and nodded. The tall man recited a brief prayer and turned to face the men behind him. One of them rose. He was a slight man of thin build and less than medium height. His head was nearly bald and his beard neatly trimmed about six inches below his chin. Could this be Rabbi Scholomo? Josef looked questioningly at Mosche, who nodded eagerly. The rabbi came forward. He was assisted by the tall man in stepping onto a platform on which a stone chair had been placed. It was a beautiful piece of stonework, carved with geometric patterns on the back and arms.

The rabbi first addressed the crowd in the local dialect, saying he was grateful for the warm hospitality he had received. It was good to be back in Worms, he said, where the Lord had inspired him and provided the means for him to begin his interpretations of Scripture. He would speak today about those interpretations and about the commentaries he was compiling, not in order to glorify himself, but to show how the Law might be set before the people like a table of good food fully prepared for them to eat. With their indulgence, the rabbi said, he would sit while he delivered his sermon. He had walked a long way from Troyes and his feet were sore.

Once seated in the stone chair, the rabbi looked around at the eager faces before him, smiled, and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he began his oration. At this point it was more difficult for Josef to follow what he said because many of the Hebrew words he used were unfamiliar. Besides that, Josef missed words on account of coughing and other inevitable crowd noises. The rabbi’s voice was strong and confident but not overly loud.

He began by saying that Torah is a portable homeland for the Jews who have been scattered around the world. It serves as sustenance when they are deprived, shelter when exposed, and armor when attacked. Therefore study of Torah should be of utmost concern to every Jew.

Josef understood this much fairly easily. As the discourse became more technical, he strained to hear and interpret the words he did not recognize. The general sense of the sermon was that Scripture could be interpreted in different ways. The two most important were peshat and derush. The rabbi himself preferred peshat, or plain meaning of the text. If a passage was simple and clear in its historical context, then there was no need to twist the words to find new meaning. On the other hand, if a passage was confusing, it might be necessary to introduce less literal interpretations. The rabbi spoke of midrash and aggadah, but Josef was not sure what these words meant. Sometimes it was useful, said the rabbi, to tell stories, introduce folklore, and give examples from everyday life. These supplements would draw people into the text, making it comprehensible to those who were not scholars. Other ways to interpret Scripture were remez and sod, but these must be used with great care, he said, especially the latter. Again, Josef did not recognize or understand the Hebrew words. The rabbi went on to say that scholars should be wary of taking their interpretations too far, leading to foolishness. Students, he said, have an important role in scholarly pursuit—to ask questions. They should ask about anything and everything, all the questions that occur to them. They should not worry about looking foolish. They should not hesitate to challenge their teachers. Only by free discussion and investigation would their minds be sharpened. Not only would students’ minds be sharpened but also the minds of their teachers, as their knowledge would be drawn out by persistent questions. Students themselves might have insights that would be helpful to their teachers, because, after all, even a master needs instruction.

After about forty minutes, the rabbi stopped speaking. Again he closed his eyes. The congregation remained quiet as the tall man with silver hair rose from his chair and stepped forward. He thanked the rabbi for his sermon and announced that their honored guest would now take questions from those in attendance.

Each man called out his question in the language he spoke most fluently. The rabbi answered in that same language when he could; otherwise he spoke Hebrew. Many of the questions and their answers Josef missed entirely, but a few he understood. One man asked when was the best time for a busy merchant to study Torah.

“You should study Torah not only at certain times but at all times. By this I mean keep the Law always before you in your mind’s eye. While you work, while you eat, while you bathe, even while you relieve yourself. As a practical matter, it is good to appoint a regular time so that you may study a little today, a little tomorrow. And if you cannot study every day, remember that one day studying Torah is better than a thousand burnt offerings brought to the altar.”

Another man asked who are the best teachers.

“To that question I have three answers, and I will tell you two of them. First, the Lord is your teacher. The Lord gives you his Torah, and through much labor you can make it your own. Second, the best and wisest teachers do not dictate to their students but rather guide them to come up with their own ideas. When you find this kind of teacher, your feet should wear out the steps to his door. The third answer is implicit in the first two.”

Someone inquired which was more valuable to study, written law or oral law.

“You cannot say one is more valuable than the other, since both are part of the same divine teaching. Written law came first and therefore it is the beginning of wisdom. Oral law was compiled to help us interpret and understand written law. Commentaries have been written to give further clarification of both. All of these we study, interpret, and debate with one goal in mind, namely right conduct. Remember this: one who studies but does not practice righteousness is like a man who sows crops but does not reap, or like a woman who gives birth and buries her offspring.”

The tall man came forward once again and said it was time to conclude the assembly. For the Jeschiba students, he said, there would be daily study sessions with Rabbi Scholomo. All Jews were welcome to attend his next Sabbath sermon. Would the rabbi now like to say a final word before the congregation was dismissed?

The rabbi looked out over the crowd of upturned faces, all eager to hear more. He said, “We are commanded to cleave to the Lord, but how can we cleave to a consuming flame, or a pillar of cloud, or a voice from above? We must cleave to what we can see and touch. Therefore if you cleave to Torah and to wise men who teach Torah, it will be the same as if you cleave to the Lord.” Rabbi Scholomo recited a brief blessing, stepped down from the platform, and went out the side door with the other rabbis.

Once the boys were out on the street, Josef turned to his friend. “That was great!” he said.

“I’m glad you liked it. How much did you understand?”

“All the German, of course. And most of the Hebrew. Except certain words like derush and sod. Can you explain those things to me?”

“Not all of it. I’ll try to find out more in the study sessions. We can talk about it next week. It’s time to go home now.”

Josef went up Jews’ Alley toward Market Street. He was so excited by what he had just heard and invigorated by the cool night air that he fairly skipped along. A couple of bright stars caught his attention. Then, suddenly, he collided with something. Standing there at the end of the alley was someone who put his hand on Josef’s shoulder and spoke in a familiar voice. “Hello, Josef,” said Father Albert. “What did you learn?”