What is written in these books? The Holy One, blessed be He, created the universe according to His will and chose us from all the peoples and gave us His Torah so that we should know how to serve Him. While we are studying His Torah and observing His commandments, not one of the peoples can injure us. When we do not obey His Torah, even the smallest goy can injure us. The Torah surrounds those who study it with goodness and virtue and enhances their favor in the eyes of the world. When we turn our eyes away from the Torah, the Torah turns its eyes away from us, and we become the lowest of all the nations. For what reason did the Holy One, blessed be He, choose us and lay upon us the yoke of the Torah and the commandments, for isn’t the Torah heavy and difficult to observe? Some solve the problem one way and some another, but I will explain it by a parable. It is like a king’s crown, made of gold and precious stones and diamonds. So long as the crown is on the king’s head, men know that he is king. When he removes the crown from his head, not all are aware that he is king. Does the king refrain from putting the crown on his head because it is heavy? On the contrary, he puts it on his head and delights in it. The king’s reward for the crown being on his head is that everyone exalts and honors him and bows down before him. What good does this do the king? That I do not know. Why? Because I am not a king. But if I am not a king, I am a king’s son and I ought to know. But this man has forgotten, he and all Israel his people, that they are sons of kings. The books tell us that this forgetfulness is worse than all other evils — that a king’s son should forget he is a king’s son.
Rachel, the innkeeper’s younger daughter, has also forgotten that she is a daughter of kings, and when I reminded her of this, she laughed at me. This girl, who between yesterday and today stopped being a child and has not yet become a young woman, has dared to rebuke a man who has reached his fortieth year, to say to him, “What are you talking about? Don’t I know that everything you’re saying is just a joke?” I do not remember the details — only the general sense of the words.
One night I was sitting with her father and found him distressed. I was about to go, but he stopped me. “No, no,” he said, “let us hear your opinion, sir.” The girl raised her eyes and looked at me, or perhaps she just raised her eyes. So I had my say. She made a wry face and said, “Why should I take on myself the burden of past generations? Let past generations look after themselves and my generation look after itself. Just as the generations before me lived in their own way, so my generation lives in its own way. And as for what you said, that every daughter of Israel should think of herself as a daughter of kings, there’s nothing more foolish than that. Today, when the crowns of kings are lying in museums and no one takes pride in them, you come and say: Every daughter of Israel should think of herself as a daughter of kings.”
I could have questioned what she said, but I answered nothing. Better she should think she had vanquished me. I do not know women, but I know that if a woman has vanquished you, in the end she will come back to your words.
I speak here of Rachel, the innkeeper’s younger daughter, although she is not that close to the center of my concerns. The girl does not really hate me, and there is no reason why she should. In her eyes I am like a guest for the night, here today and elsewhere tomorrow.
Rachel is no longer a child, but not yet a young woman. Her neck is slender, her forehead high, and her eyes sad, and a kind of smile rests on her lips. At first sight it seems that there is something impudent about her, but by the way she bends her head it can be seen that she does not think much of herself and is prepared to submit to one greater than herself. And this is surprising, for she has no respect for kings or noblemen, no fear of her father and mother; and it goes without saying that she has no fear of our Father in heaven. So who could this be to whom she is prepared to bow her head? Often she will twitch her shoulders, as if a hand had touched them, and half close her eyes. Not like her father, who wants to preserve what he has already seen, but like one who half closes his eyes to see what is still to happen.
What is this girl waiting for? Surely there is nothing to be expected of this world, and men are not so made as to bring good. I held my tongue and examined my own self. Not that I am better than anyone else, but I am not so made as to bring any harm to that girl. And I am glad I said nothing to her and did not lead her into despair.
I looked at my watch and said, “Oh, it is already after midnight.” So I went into my room to sleep.
Chapter eight. Between Father and Son
One night I found the old cantor, Reb Shlomo Bach, sitting in the hotel, bent over his stick. As I entered he rose, put out his hand, and greeted me. I returned his greeting and said to him, “You are still here. I thought you had already gone up to the Land of Israel.”
“I am partly here, and partly in the Land of Israel,” replied Reb Shlomo, “for my late son Yeruham’s comrades have already sent me a ticket, and I wanted to see you because I heard that you came from there. Perhaps you will give me some good advice about the journey.”
“Nothing simpler,” said I. “You go to the railway station and give the clerk money, and he gives you a ticket. You get into the coach and travel to Trieste. There you board a ship and travel five days by sea until you reach Jaffa. Once you have reached Jaffa, you are standing in the Land of Israel.” So long as I was describing his journeyings outside the Land, he did not seem to be listening, but as soon as I mentioned Jaffa, he fixed his eyes on me and repeated my words.
Daniel, his son, came in. “I am sorry for you, son,” said his father, “that you did not hear what the gentleman was telling me.” Daniel Bach looked at me, as if wondering what it was this man had said that he should be sorry for not having heard. “I was telling your father how to go to the Land of Israel,” said I. Daniel brought his feet together and said, “Yes, yes” (meaning: I knew it was something simple that this man told you). “Take a piece of paper and write,” said I, “so that your father can know the order of the journey.”
After he had written down the order of the journey to the Land of Israel, he asked me to explain the route from Jaffa to Ramat Rahel, where his father was going. I said, “You leave the ship, embark in a boat, and land. If your father finds a young fellow from the kvutza, so much the better; if not, let him book a place in an automobile and travel to Jerusalem. When he arrives in Jerusalem he takes the bus for Talpiot. When he gets to the end of Talpiot, he will see young men and women setting out for Ramat Rahel; he walks with them until he reaches the place.”
Since I had mentioned Talpiot, I remembered the trouble that had overtaken me there when the Arabs destroyed my house and left me not even a pillow for my head. At that moment I was sad and Reb Shlomo was happy. I was sad because I had left there, and he was happy because he was going there.
I ordered tea and cakes for my guests. Reb Shlomo said the blessing over food, broke off a small piece of the cake and ate it, then said the appropriate blessing over tea and drank. He took out a letter he had received from Ramat Rahel and spread it out before me. Although he knew the letter by heart he read it over again. Then he folded it up, put it in his pocket next to his heart, and said, “So I am going to the Land of Israel.” Daniel Bach nodded his head and said, “Yes, Father, you are going to the Land of Israel.” Said Reb Shlomo, “How pleasant my journey would be if you promised me, my son, that you would follow the right way.” Daniel jumped up from his chair, placed his right hand on his heart, and pointed upward with his left. “Was it I that made the way crooked?” he cried. “It was He that made the way crooked.” “Enough, son, enough,” said his father. “Whatever the Almighty does He does to test us. If we stand the test, so much the better. If not, He sends a test harder than the first.” Said Daniel, “Doesn’t the Almighty see that we can’t stand His first test, that He takes the trouble to subject us to new ones?” “Evil thoughts are a great stumbling block,” said Reb Shlomo, “but I am not speaking to you about thoughts. What I ask of you, my son, is that you should obey His laws and observe His commandments; then in the end He will take away your evil thoughts from your heart. We have troubled the gentleman too much; let us say the final grace and go.” Reb Shlomo shook the crumbs from his beard, wiped his mouth, said the grace, and rose.