I felt the sweets in my pocket. The paper bags were torn and the sweets stuck to my fingers. I wiped my fingers and went home to my hotel to eat. After the meal I went back to the Beit Midrash to explain to the people the simple and the subtle of passages from the scriptural portion of the week, as I used to do on Sabbath eves. Three men had come, and were sitting beside the stove. One of them yawned and brought the others to the point of yawning, and when he stopped they yawned and brought him to the point of yawning.
I gazed at my book and cocked my ears to hear if anyone were coming. Half an hour went by, and no one came. I said to myself: And those who are sitting with me, why do they not ask me to say a word of Torah? Now, even if they ask, I will not respond. When they were silent, I said to myself: It is said that when two men sit together and discuss Torah, the Divine Presence rests among them. Whether they are many or few, one ought to speak, and even if there is only one who wishes to hear the words of the Torah, it is forbidden to withhold them from him. While I was talking to myself, they slipped away and were gone.
This man felt strange with a bellyful of Scripture verses and sayings from the sages, and no one wished to hear them. Moreover, on other Sabbaths I did not prepare anything, but whatever God put in my mouth I would speak, and for this Sabbath I had prepared many comments.
I remained alone in the Beit Midrash and gazed at the shining candles. First I said: “You are shining in vain; but then I said: Not so, you are shining for the sake of the Sabbath. I smoothed down the clean cloth on the table and closed my book.
It was not in order that I might be popular with my fellow men that I came here, nor was it in order to sermonize on verses from the Torah. Nevertheless, these things did make my being here more pleasant, and perhaps there was also an infinitesimal feeling of pride in my heart when I used to stand and discourse in front of the congregation, but in any case not more than that of the pointer used to indicate the letters as it bends itself in the hand of the teacher.
I got up and put on my coat, but before I left I repeated to myself what I had prepared to say in public.
The portion for that week was the one beginning: “These are the regulations of the Tabernacle,” and what I wanted to say was connected with the last verse of the portion: “For the cloud of the Lord was upon the Tabernacle by day, and fire was on it by night, in the eyes of all the House of Israel, throughout their journeys.”
We should be precise in interpreting “In the eyes of all the House of Israel”—do houses have eyes? And what does Rashi of blessed memory want to teach us, when he explains that the journey also includes the places where they encamped? And I went back to the verse “And the glory of the Lord filled the Tabernacle,” for the glory of the Lord was not mingled with the cloud. Then I went back to the beginning of the portion, “These are the regulations of the Tabernacle, the Tabernacle of Testimony.” Why was the Tabernacle mentioned twice? Because in this passage they were told that the Tabernacle was destined to be destroyed twice: the First Temple and the Second Temple. And we may ask: Was it for the Holy One, blessed be He, at this moment, when Israel had joy and gladness, to inform them of such an evil thing? But this is explained by the word that follows: “Testimony.” It is a testimony to all the people of the world that there is forgiveness for Israel, and these are the tidings. Since the Lord poured out His wrath on the wood and the stones, but Israel remained in existence, we learn that the Tabernacle — which in Hebrew is mishkan — was Israel’s pledge — in Hebrew mashkon; and this is why it is written, “The Tabernacle of Testimony,” for it was a testimony and a pledge for Israel. And these are ancient matters. Finally I went back to the beginning and explained a number of scriptural texts about which I raised questions, and touched on a number of topical ideas which are already implied in our eternal Torah. And so I discussed the reason why the vessels were made before the Tabernacle. Although I do not go so far as to agree with the expositors who say that the vessels mentioned in the Torah allude to the virtues of the soul, I do interpret, in a manner close to theirs, that the Torah was hinting to us that we should set our virtues in order first, before entering the tent.
The candles had reached the end, but were still burning strongly. Even better were the lamps, which Reb Hayim had filled. I took the key, went out, and locked up the Beit Midrash.
And where was Reb Hayim? I heard that he had gone to Hanoch’s wife, to recite the Kiddush there.
The street was empty and my heart was full. I wanted to relieve my heart, but found no companion. My shadow dragged behind me; my shadow was longer than I and broader than I, but I paid it no heed, as if it were not there.
Suddenly it occurred to me to go to the Gordonia group: first, to keep my promise, for on the day I went to look for the old locksmith to make me a key, I promised our comrades that I should come again; and second, in order to see a fellow Jew.
When I reached the house of the group, I did not find the entrance, and when I found the entrance I did not find the steps by which to go up. Later I heard that the Revisionists had dragged away the steps and thrown them into the river.
I walked around the house on all four sides, and looked at the windows, from which a little light came. I repeated various names used by Jews; perhaps I would remember one of the names of the Gordonia comrades and I would call it out so that he should come to take me up to the house. Between ourselves, even if I had called out all the names in the Torah, the Prophets, and the Writings, I should have accomplished nothing, for most of our comrades called themselves by names of their own invention, like Kuba, Luntchi, Henryk, or Yanik.
I looked at my shadow, which climbed upward and then lay flat again before me on the ground. If it had been given a mouth to speak it would have said, “Just as you are weary, so am I weary.”
I took off my hat and wiped the sweat off my forehead. My shadow did likewise. If it had been given a mouth to speak it would have said, “I am with you in your trouble.”
I took the two keys, the key of the Beit Midrash and the key of the hotel, and jingled them together so as to appease somewhat the boredom in my heart. What shall I tell you? I was like a man who sings songs to a heavy heart.
I began talking to myself. “Perhaps we should leave this place.”
“Where to?” “Wherever you want to go.” Since I did not find a place to go, I went back to my hotel.
On the way, another shadow mingled with mine, and I saw a girl walking behind me. I began to regret having left, for if I had not, perhaps that girl would have shown me the entry to the house of the group and I would have gone in and sat down among other people — and not among shadows — and perhaps we would have had a pleasant conversation.
The girl came up and greeted me. I returned her greeting and asked, “What are you doing in the street, miss, at such a late hour?” Erela answered, “First, the hour is not late. And second, anyone who is going home must pass along the street.” “If so,” said I, “we both have the same road.” Said Erela, “If two meet on the way, that does not mean that both have the same road.” “And are you not going home?” said I. “I am going home,” she replied. “Well then,” said I, “we do have one road, for I, too, am going home — and my hotel is next to your house.” Said Erela, “If you are referring to the geographical aspect, sir, you are quite right, but apart from the geographical aspect, there are others, which have no relation to each other.”