“But just when Isaiah let out this cry — I am unclean — one of the angels flew to the altar and with tongs drew out a fiery coal. Understand? With tongs. And with that coal, down he flew to Isaiah and with that coal touched his lips — Here!” The rabbi’s fingers stabbed the air. “You are clean! And the instant that coal touched Isaiah’s lips, then he heard God’s own voice say, Whom shall I send? Who will go for us? And Isaiah spoke and—”
But a sudden blast of voices out doors interrupted him. Running feet stamped across the yard. The door burst open. A squabbling tussling band stormed the doorway, jamming it. Scuffling, laughing boisterously, they shoved each other in, yanked each other out—
“Leggo!”
“Leggo me!”
“Yuh pushed me in id, yuh lousy stinkuh!”
“Next after Davy,” one flew toward the reading table.
“Moishe flopped inna puddle!”
“Hey! Don’ led ’im in!”
“Next after Sammy!” Another bolted after the first.
“I come—!”
“Shah!” grated the rabbi. “Be butchered, all of you! You hear me! Not one be spared!”
The babel sank to an undertone.
“And you there be maimed forever, shut that door.”
The milling about the doorway dissolved.
“Quick! May your life be closed with it.”
Someone pulled the door after him.
“And now, sweet Sammy,” his voice took on a venomous wheedling tone. “Nex are you? I’ll give you nex. In your belly it will nex. Out of there! Wriggle!”
Sammy hastily scrambled back over the bench.
“And you too,” he waved David away. “Go sit down over there.” And when David hung back, “Quick! Or—!”
David sprang from the bench.
“And quiet!” he rasped. “As if your tongues had rotted.” And when complete silence had been established. “Now,” he said, rising. “I’ll give you something to do— Yitzchuck!”
“Waauh! I didn’ do nottin’!” Yitzchuck raised a terrified whine.
“Who asked you to speak? Come here!”
“Wadda yuh wan’ f’om me?” Yitzchuck prepared to blubber.
“Sit here.” He beckoned to the end of the bench which was nearest the reading table. “And don’t speak to me in goyish. Out of there, you! And you, David, sit where you are— Simke!”
“Yea.”
“Beside him. Srool! Moishe! Avrum! Yankel! Schulim!” He was gathering all the younger students into a group. “Schmiel! And you Meyer, sit here.” With a warning glance he went over to the closet behind his chair and drew out a number of small books.
“Aaa! Phuh!” Yitzchuck spat out in a whisper. “De lousy Hagaddah again!”
They sat silent until the rabbi returned and distributed the books. Moishe, seated a short distance away from David dropped his, but then pounced upon it hastily, and for the rabbi’s benefit, kissed it and looked about with an expression of idiotic piety.
“First, louse-heads,” began the rabbi when he had done distributing the books, “the Four Questions of the Passover. Read them again and again. But this time let them flow from your lips like a torrent. And woe to that plaster dunce who still cannot say them in Yiddish! Blows will he scoop like sand! And when you have done that, turn the leaves to the ‘Chad Godya’. Read it over. But remember, quiet as death— Well?” Shmaike had raised his hand as though he were in school. “What do you want?”
“Can’t we hear each other?”
“Mouldered brains! Do you still need to hear each other? Do then. But take care I don’t hear a goyish word out of you.” He went back to his chair and sat down. For a few seconds longer his fierce gaze raked the long bench, then his eyes dropped momentarily to the book before him. “I was telling you,” he addressed Mendel, “how Isaiah came to see God and what happened after—”
But as if his own words had unleashed theirs, a seething of whispers began to chafe the room.
“You hea’ me say it. You hea’ me! Shid on you. C’mon Solly, you hea’ me. Yuh did push! Mendy’s god a bendige yet on—”
“Said whom shall I send?” The rabbi’s words were baffling on thickening briers of sound. “Who will go for us?”
“Izzy Pissy! Cock-eye Mulligan! Mah nishtanah halilaw hazeh— Wanna play me Yonk?”
— Couldn’t ask him though (David’s eyes merely rested on the page). Get mad. Maybe later when I have to read. Where was it? Yea. Page sixty-eight. I’ll say, on page sixty-eight in that blue book that’s new, where Mendel read, you were saying that man saw God. And a light—
“How many? I god more den you. Shebchol haleylos onu ochlim-. I had a mockee on mine head too. Wuz you unner de awningh? Us all wuz. In de rain.”
“And tell this people, this fallen people—”
“Yea, and I’ll kickyuh innee ass! Odds! Halaylaw hazeh kulo mazo— So from t’rowin’ sand on my head I god a big mockee. I seen a blitz just w’en I commed in.”
— Where did he go to see Him? God? Didn’t say. Wonder if the rabbi knows? Wish I could ask. Page sixty-eight. Way, way, way, maybe. Where? Gee! Some place, me too … When I— When I — in the street far away … Hello, Mr. Highwood, goodbye Mr. Highwood. Heee! Funny!
“C’mere Joey, here’s room. De rebbeh wants — Fences is all slippery. Now wadda yuh cry?”
“Nor ever be healed, nor even clean.”
“A blitz, yuh dope! Hey Solly, he says— Shebchol haleylos onu ochlim— Yea, my fadder’ll beat chaw big brudder. Evens!”
— Some place Isaiah saw Him, just like that. I bet! He was sitting on a chair. So he’s got chairs, so he can sit. Gee! Sit Shit! Sh! Please God, I didn’t mean it! Please God, somebody else said it! Please—
“So hoddy you say blitz wise guy? Moishee loozed his bean shooduh! And den after de sand I pud wawduh on duh head, so— Lousy bestia! Miss Ryan tooked it!”
“How long? I asked. Lord, how long—”
— And why did the angel do it? Why did he want to burn Isaiah’s mouth with coal? He said, You’re clean. But coal makes smoke and ashes. So how clean? Couldn’t he just say, Your mouth is clean? Couldn’t he? Why wasn’t it clean, anyway? He didn’t wash it, I bet. So that …
“A lighten’, yuh dope. A blitz! Kent’cha tuck Englitch? Ha! Ha! Sheor yerokos halaylo hazeh — Dat’s two on dot! I wuz shootin chalk wid it. Somm bean shooduh! My fodder’ll give your fodder soch a kick—”
— With a zwank, he said it was. Zwank. Where did I see? Zwank some place. Mama? No. Like in blacksmith shop by the river. Pincers and horseshoe. Yes must be. With pincers, zwank means pincers. So why with pincers? Coal was hot. That’s why. But he was a angel. Is angels afraid? Afraid to get burned? Gee! Must have been hot, real hot. How I jumped when the rabbi pushed out with his fingers when he said coal. Nearly thought it was me. Wonder if Isaiah hollered when the coal touched him. Maybe angel-coal don’t burn live people. Wonder—
“Dere! Chinky shows! Id’s mine! How many fences didja go? I tore it f’om a tree in duh pock, mine bean-shooduh! T’ree fences. So a lighten den, wise guy!”
“And the whole land waste and empty.”
“T’ree is a lie, mine fodder says. Yea? Matbilim afilu pa’am echos halaylo hazeh — Always wear yuh hat when a lighten’ gives—”
— He said dirty words, I bet. Shit, pee, fuckenbestit — Stop! You’re sayin’ it yourself. It’s a sin again! That’s why he — Gee! I didn’t mean it. But your mouth don’t get dirty. I don’t feel no dirt. (He rolled his tongue about) Maybe inside. Way, way in, where you can’t taste it. What did Isaiah say that made his mouth dirty? Real dirty, so he’d know it was? Maybe—