He pulled out his watch again and looked at it. Hardly a moment had passed since he took it out first, and how many thoughts had gone through his mind! As he put it back into his pocket, he dozed off. Or perhaps he did not doze, and he was awake when he saw this thing. What did he see? Shifrah Puah’s coffin, followed by nine hundred and ninety-nine men and one woman. And that woman was his wife, the mother of his only son. This he found surprising, for she had been born in another town, not in Shifrah Puah’s, so what was she doing beside the midwife’s coffin? While he was thinking this, he saw that all the mourners were well dressed and each of them had a gold watch, pure gold, hanging on his clothes, while he, Mr. Shulkind, was ragged and barefoot; except for a threadbare coat he had nothing on his body.
At that moment he heard the voice of a newsboy. He awoke and bought a paper. When he looked at it he said to himself: There’s nothing new, for all the Austrian and German victories in the paper are imaginary; they are meant only to prop up the people’s enthusiasm and keep them from despair. So he folded the paper and gave it to someone else. While the other was sitting and reading, Mr. Shulkind felt sorry he had let the paper out of his possession without reading it to the end, for no doubt there was something in it about the hikers in the mountains. And even if there were no such news there, why shouldn’t he make sure there was not, for in any case he had nothing to do. He put out his hand to ask for the return of the paper, but just then the attendant summoned him to the official’s room. He went in and received the contract, and he was also entrusted with some new business, namely, making clothes out of paper.
As he left the official’s room he said to himself that this new business was bigger than anything he had undertaken before. He felt angry with his son for chasing after pleasure while he had to look after the business. On his way home, Mr. Shulkind went up to a newspaper kiosk and bought a paper, but before he could read it a drizzle began to fall, so he folded up the paper and put it in his pocket.
As he reached his house he heard a scream. He went in and found his wife in a state of collapse, with a paper in her hand, screaming and weeping, “My son, my son, my only son! Fallen on the mountains and your bones scattered!” Immediately he knew that his son had been killed on the mountains. Or perhaps he had known it already, having read it in the paper, or perhaps he glanced at the paper now and thought he had read it before.
In short, through that old man Mrs. Bach succeeded in learning to become a midwife, teaching her daughter, Yeruham A, and Yeruham B Hebrew, and having them admitted to the institute. Thus she succeeded in seeing her daughter a teacher of Hebrew; and Yeruham A, namely her father-in-law’s son, and Yeruham B, namely the Lithuanian’s son, earned through her their going up to the Land of Israel. And it was agreed between them, namely between Yeruham the Lithuanian’s son and Aniela, that is Erela, that he would bring her there. But what do you think he did? He came back from there and began to court another girl. As he had betrayed the Land, so he betrayed his betrothed. But Erela did not betray her early ideals, and now she was teaching in the town’s Hebrew school and educating pupils. If you heard children twittering in Hebrew, you could be sure it was Aniela who had taught them. Aniela is the same as Erela, for Aniela in Polish means an angel, and as the ordinary Hebrew word for angel does not apply to a woman, she called herself Erela after a word we find in the Book of Isaiah.
Besides teaching the children Hebrew, Erela has a number of other merits. Nevertheless, I do not like her; first, because of the way she articulates her speech, for she slices up her words as if with a sword, and second, because of the spectacles in front of her eyes. After every word that comes from her lips she applies her spectacles to you like a plaster to a wound. It seems to me that her father’s wooden leg is as nothing compared to her spectacles. Once Rachel asked me, “Why do you keep away from Erela, sir?” “Because of her spectacles,” I replied. Rachel said jestingly, “And what can a person do if his eyes are weak? But I’m sure it’s only for this — that spectacles are not mentioned in the Torah.”
Since I have been living here I have not had occasion to speak to Erela except by chance. And I must say that it is no pleasure to speak to her. First, because she has seized the whole truth for herself and leaves no part for anyone else. And second, because she hangs on to every single word you utter, and from the things you have said she ascribes to you things you did not say, and argues with you about them. For instance, if you say that Reuben is a decent man, she jumps up and asks, “Why don’t you think Simon is decent?” Or if you say that a Jewish child ought to study the Bible, she jumps up and asks why you object to Tales from the Scriptures. “In my opinion,” she says, “one must not burden a child with matters that don’t appeal to him; it’s much better to instruct him in the Tales from the Scriptures.”
Between ourselves, it was a mistake to arrange the Bible stories by themselves, for this takes them out of the sphere of holiness and makes them secular. But I have never expressed my opinion on this subject in public, for if I ever began to express my opinion about everything I do not like I’d never finish.
On that occasion I was in a playful mood. I said to her, “Would you like to hear an interesting story, madam?
“An old man and an old woman who had spent most of their days in a village among the Gentiles came to live in the city in a place of study and prayer. The old man went to the Beit Midrash, where he saw Jews sitting and studying. He sat down to listen, but understood nothing, for this was the table for great scholars, and they were discussing a difficult problem. He went and sat by another table, where they were studying Gemara. He listened attentively, but understood nothing. He went and sat by another table, where they were studying Mishna. He listened attentively, but understood nothing. So he went and sat by the table where the children were being taught. At that moment they were studying in the Book of Samuel the story of David and Goliath and of Abigail the wife of Nabal the Carmelite. The old man listened attentively. When he came home he said to his wife, ‘You surely know David the author of the Psalms, don’t you? Would you have believed that this David made love to another man’s wife and killed a Gentile?’”
After I had told the story I felt sad, as I usually do after a jest. Why did I say that the compilers of the Tales from the Scriptures did wrong to arrange the stories by themselves? Because they took them out of the sphere of holiness and made them secular.
And what is holiness?
The simple meaning of the word is: a summit of the spirit that no tongue can explain. And this word was first used to denote the holiness of the Almighty, the Holiness of all holinesses, of whom it is said, “For I am holy.”
From this summit of the spirit there emanate a number of objects, which partake of His holiness; such as Israel, of whom it is said, “Israel is the Lord’s holy portion,” for He took them to Him to be a holy people, and assigned His holiness to them, and said, “Ye shall be holy for I am holy.” And similarly with the Tabernacle and the Temple: the Tabernacle, as it is said, “in a holy place,” and the Temple, whose name in Hebrew testifies to its holiness. Similarly with Jerusalem, the Holy City, and the Holy Land, which have been made holy by the holiness of the Almighty and the holiness of the deeds of Israel, who are called “a special people and a holy nation.” Similarly with special days for the nation, such as the Sabbath day, which is called the Holy Sabbath, and the Day of Atonement, which is called a Holy Day, and so with the other divine festivals. And all those things that have been said in the Torah, the Prophets, and the Writings are called the Holy Scriptures, as is said in the tractate Sabbath, chapter 15, “All the Holy Scriptures must be saved from burning.” From this we learn that all these things are holy — the opposite of secular. And anyone who makes one of these things secular degrades a supreme spiritual quality, at the very time that all creatures long to become more holy and to rise higher.