I remembered how I had told Hanoch about the martyrs from outside the Land of Israel who enter the Land immediately and do not have to wait until the dead from outside should make their way there under the ground, and how Hanoch had listened and envied them. I said to myself: Hanoch did not have the privilege of dying for the sanctification of the Divine Name, but he died for a crust of bread, so he will have to wait with all the dead from outside the Land. But I feel sure that the good angels who were created through his honest labor will ease his wanderings in this world and the next. And when our sacred Messiah comes — and may it be speedily in our days — all Israel will go out to meet him, and they will make way for the great ones, so that they should be the first to welcome the King Messiah. Then the King Messiah will say to them, “Come, let us go to those of our brethren whom no one heeded because of their poverty.” And when the King Messiah sees Hanoch and his comrades, he will say to them, “You needed me most; therefore I come to you first.”
Chapter four and forty. The Passover Festival
Passover was near at hand and I began to be concerned about the celebration of the festival. Really, I lacked for nothing in the hotel. My table was always properly set and my food plentiful, and no doubt I would lack nothing at the Passover as well, for the innkeeper’s wife told me, “Even though you do not eat meat, you need have no fear that you will go hungry, for I will make you tasty milk dishes such as you have never eaten in your life.” Yet a man’s soul longs to sit down for the Passover with relatives and friends, especially since this is the first Passover he has spent far from his family.
But in the town where I was born I had no relatives and friends. Whoever had not died in the way of nature had died in the war; whoever had not died in the war had died from the effects of the war; and whoever had been left alive by the war had gone away to some other country. Again I stood alone, as on the first day I returned to my town. Even worse — on the day I. returned I found a hotel, and now the hotel had become strange to me, for since I wished to celebrate the Passover eves in another place I forgot that I had a fixed place of my own. So far had I forgotten I had a place that I even thought of visiting the town rabbi, in the hope that he would invite me to celebrate the Seder with him. Finally it occurred to me to celebrate the Passover with Reb Hayim.
All that day this verse never left my lips: “How good and how pleasant it is for brethren to sit together.” I would hire a woman to clear the woodshed and wash the floor; I would bring in a table and two chairs, and spread a white cloth on the table, and light many candles, and bring cushions for the festive seats, and go out to the market and buy unleavened bread and wine, and bring tasty dishes from the hotel, and Reb Hayim and I would celebrate together. “How good and how pleasant for brothers to sit together.”
I explained the idea to Reb Hayim, but he said, “I have already promised Hanoch’s widow and orphans to celebrate with them.” “I will celebrate with all of you,” said I. Reb Hayim looked at my clothes and said sorrowfully, “You cannot celebrate there, sir.” “Why not?” I asked. “Because of the poverty,” said he. “And am I a hater of the poor?” said I. “No,” said he, “but not every man can stand the poor, for their poverty has degraded them.”
I remembered several tales about men who wandered to far-off places and the Passover overtook them, and a miracle happened: some great prince, a God-fearing man who hid his good deeds from the authorities, came and invited them to celebrate the festival in his palace.
There are no miracles and wonders in these days, but if it is true that the chief of the priests in our town had a Jewish father, perhaps he observes their faith to the outward view but behaves like a pious Jew at home. Let me go to him; perhaps he would invite me to celebrate the festival with him. While I was playing with this strange idea, the holiday came upon me and I sat down for the Passover in the hotel.
The joy of the Holy Day pervaded the entire house from the beginning of the Seder ceremony until the end. Anyone who had never seen Mr. Zommer except on that night might have been deluded into thinking that he was a joyful man. His eyes were wide open and it would be no exaggeration to say that even his eyebrows shone. On this night Mr. Zommer’s eyes, which are always half closed, were open wide, and he looked at us with wholehearted affection. Rachel asked the four traditional questions, while Dolik and Lolik showed their prowess with the wineglass — and, needless to say, so did Yeruham, who drank more than any of them. Between the chapters, Mr. Zommer offered Yeruham the Haggadah and said, “Let us hear how the Turk reads.” So Yeruham read in a Sephardi accent and a Yemenite accent, and in a strange Russian accent just as the proselytes read. When the time came to eat the afikomen at the end of the meal, it turned out that Babtchi had stolen it. Her father promised to give her a present — as is customary — and she gave the afikomen back. But then he refused to give her a piece of the afikomen unless she gave up her present. Dolik whispered to her, “Give it up and don’t eat it, for if you eat the afikomen you will be forbidden to eat or drink all night, and you will have to do without the meal with bread at the club.”
After the Seder Yeruham danced a hora, like the pioneers in the Land of Israel, and pulled his brothers-in-law and sister-in-law into the dance. Finally they took their father and mother, put them in the middle, and danced around them. Great are the festivals of the Lord, for even the triflers of this world rejoice in them.
For me the festivals of the Lord are days of meditation, especially this Passover eve, when I was far from home. I remembered days gone by, when I was a child and asked my father, of blessed memory, the four questions, and also the first year when my little son — always remembering the distinction between the living and the dead — asked me the four questions. Likewise I called to mind the Passover eves that had passed between my questions and the questions of my son, some of them years that had gone by in happiness and others that had passed without happiness. Praised be the Name of the Lord; why should a living man complain?
Chapter five and forty. In the Kaiserins House
Many times I wanted to visit the Kaiserin, but when I remembered her the time was not right for a visit, and when the time was right for a visit I did not remember her. In the intermediate days of the Passover the two things happened to me together, and I went to see her.
Freide’s house stands in Gymnasia Street near the Stripa. The war, which damaged the large houses, did not damage Freide’s, and it is as whole as thirty or forty years ago, with no perceptible change apart from the change produced by many years. And as it is unaltered without, so it is unaltered within. The floor is covered with yellow plaster, and sacking is spread on the floor like a kind of carpet, and a large stove stands at the back of the house, blue with a red top. Freide’s bed is near the stove. It is shaped like a kind of couch or bench: by day Freide does all her cooking on it, kneads dough and cuts noodles, and at night she takes off the board that covers it and lies down — lies but does not sleep, for in these days men cannot sleep — and sometimes she lies all night without closing an eye. And why does she not close an eye? First, because she must watch her tears, that they not soil her face. And second, because she is in the habit of watching the shadows that emerge from her household objects; this way, she feels that she is not alone. Ever since Elimelech her son went away she has been alone, and at night she wants to feel that she is not alone. “ Perhaps, my child,” she says to me, “you say that the shadows are sins, as the children say; and I tell you that the shadows of human beings are sins, but the shadows of objects are pure, for any object is good-tempered and does human beings no harm. On the contrary, the objects are good to me, and when I tell them my troubles they do not tell me to stop chattering. You, too, my chick, are good-tempered; here I am chattering and chattering, and you sit and listen. It is because your mother’s soul has entered into you. Never in her life did she scold me, and all her life she listened to my talk. But she is in the upper world, so how can I say that she has entered into you? Let me explain to you that I was not thinking of the soul itself, but of her good qualities, for a mother’s qualities enter into her children, whether they are good or evil. To come back to the subject, I say that all your mother’s good qualities have entered into you, her son. I said so to Zommer’s wife when you sent me potatoes and matzoh and fat, and I say it again to you. And don’t be annoyed with me, my chick, because I repeat myself, for because of all the sufferings I have endured I am afraid I might have forgotten, and failed to say what I wanted to say, so I say it again. A person must give praise and thanks for all that he is given, for otherwise he forgets to thank the Almighty for all the favors He does us. And when the Almighty sees that human beings are ungrateful, He turns His eyes away from them, and when, heaven forbid, He stops looking after men, they make war on each other. At the very beginning of the war I already said that all this war comes only because of the many ungrateful people in the world. Only think how many favors our Emperor, may he rest in peace, did for the Russians: when they fled from the Japanese he allowed them to encamp in his country. And he, the Russian Emperor, not only did not thank him, but made war against him. And what was his end? May the end of all the enemies of Israel be like his! Perhaps you may say that our Emperor died too. But I tell you that he died for another reason, because his days and years came to an end, and because the Jews were very troubled at the time and did not manage to beg mercy for him.