Why drag the story out, dear friend? It was fated that a miracle take place. The One Above put in my head the idea that I not humble myself. I took heart and in good spirits said to the villagers, “Listen, gentlemen, to what I have to say. If the council has decided, they must know best. Tevye deserves to have you destroy his home and everything he has. But you know, there is something higher than your council. There is a God Above. I am not saying my God or your God, but I am speaking of the God of all of us, who sits above and sees all the wickedness that goes on down below. It could be,” I said, “that He pointed me out to be punished by you, my best friends, for no reason at all, or possibly the opposite, He wants under no circumstances for Tevye to be harmed. Who,” I said, “can know God’s will? Maybe there is one among you who will take it upon himself to understand it?”
Apparently they realized that they would not get the best of Tevye, and so Ivan Poperilo the mayor said to me, “This is the way it is. We have nothing against you, Tevel. It’s true you are,” he said, “a Jew, and you are not a bad person. But one thing has nothing to do with the other. We must beat you up. The council decided it, and that’s the way it has to be! We will break out your windows. That we must do, because if some official passes through, they must see that you’ve been punished. Otherwise we might be the ones who get punished.” Those were his very words, so help me God! Nu, I ask you now, Pani Sholem Aleichem, you are a man of the world who has traveled all over. Is Tevye right when he says we have a powerful God?
Now let us return to the Lech l’cho — Get Thee Gone. I studied it not too long ago, and it has the most meaning. This time, you understand, no fancy interpretations or speeches helped me. Here is the story exactly, with every jot and tittle, as you like to hear it.
Right at that time the world was turning topsy-turvy over Mendel Beiliss and the blood-libel trial. Beiliss was suffering the punishments of the damned, atoning for the sins of others. Sitting on the stoop of my house, I was deep in thought. It was summertime. The sun was baking, and my head was spinning. How could this be happening? I wondered. How could it be possible, in these times, in such a clever world full of such smart people! And where was God, the old Jewish God? Why was He silent? How could He allow such a thing? How could it be, and again, how could it be? And I began to ponder the universe and wondered, What is this world? And what is the next world? And why does not the Messiah come? Ay, I thought, wouldn’t it be wonderful if the Messiah were to come down right now riding on his white horse! That would be a fine thing! Never has he been so badly needed by our Jewish brethren as now! I don’t know about the rich people, the Brodskys in Yehupetz or the Rothschilds in Paris. Maybe they never think of Him at all. But we poor Jewish folk from Kasrilevka and Mazepevka and Zlodeyevka, and even Yehupetz and Odessa, crave his coming. We strain our eyes looking for him! Our entire hope now is that God will perform a miracle and the Messiah will come!
Just then, I looked up and saw a white horse and rider coming straight to my door! He stopped, got off, tied the horse to the post, and came right over to me. “Zdrastoy, Tevel! Greetings!”
“Greetings to you, your honor!” I answered in a friendly manner, and in my heart I was thinking, Haman approacheth. As Rashi says, When you await the Messiah, the village constable comes instead. I rose and said to the constable, “Welcome to you. What’s happening in the world, and what good news do you bring, your honor?” My heart was pounding — I wanted to know what and when.
But he, the constable, took his time. He smoked a leisurely cigarette, blew out the smoke, spat, and said to me, “How much time do you think you need, Tevel, to sell your house and all your things?”
I stared at him. “Why should I sell my house? Is it in anyone’s way?”
“It isn’t in anyone’s way,” he said. “I’ve come to tell you that you must leave the village.”
“That’s it, no more? For what good deeds do I deserve this? How have I earned this honor?”
“It isn’t me sending you away,” he said. “It’s the provincial government.”
“The government?” I said. “What does the government have against me?”
“Not just you,” he said, “and not just from here, but from all the villages all around, from Zlodeyevka and from Rabilevka and from Kostolomevka, and even Anatevka, which was a town and now has officially become a village, so we can drive all, all of you Jews from here.”
“Even Lazer-Wolf the butcher? And Naftali-Gershon the cripple? And the ritual slaughterer of Anatevka? And the rabbi?”
“All! All!” he said, making a gesture with his hand like cutting with a knife.
That made me feel somewhat easier, as it is said: The troubles of others are half a comfort to one’s self. But I was nevertheless infuriated, and a fire burned within me. I decided to confront the constable. “Tell me, does your honor realize that I’ve lived in this village much longer than you? Do you realize that in this little corner of the world my father lived and my grandfather and my grandmother, may they all rest in peace?” And I listed my whole family by name, whoever lived there and where and when they died.
He heard me out, and when I finished, he said to me, “You are a clever Jew, Tevel, and you can talk a blue streak. What good are your stories about your grandmother and grandfather to me? Let them have a bright paradise! But you, Tevel, had better gather up your stuff and get going to Berdichev!”
That made me even angrier. Enough, you Esau that brought me such good tidings, now he ridicules me by telling me to get going to Berdichev! Let me at least teach him a lesson. “Your honor, as long as you’ve been constable here, have you ever heard any of the neighbors complain that I’ve ever robbed them or cheated them or tricked them or taken anything from them? Go ahead, ask anyone,” I said, “whether I didn’t live much better alongside all of you than anyone else. How many times did I come to you to plead the case for my Gentile neighbors, asking you not to mistreat them?”
That did not sit well with him! He stood up, crushed his cigarette with his fingers, tossed it away. “I don’t have time to waste with your idle chatter,” he said. “I received an order, and that’s all I need to know. Come, you’ll sign the order right here. They give you three days to pack up, sell everything, and get on your way.”
I saw it was bad. “You are giving me three days?” I said. “For this may you live three years in honor and in riches! May God repay you many times over for the good news you brought me!” I gave it to him good, as only Tevye can! After all, what did it matter, what did I have to lose? If I had been twenty years younger and Golde were still alive, and if I had been the same Tevye the dairyman as before, in my prime — oh ho! I wouldn’t have given in so easily! I would have fought back to the last drop of my blood! But the way things were now — what could I do? What are we and what is our life? — what am I today and who am I? Only half a body, a wreck, a broken vessel! O ye ruler of the earth, our Father! I thought, why are you picking on poor Tevye? Why don’t you once in a while play around with Brodsky or Rothschild? Why don’t they have to learn the portion of Lech l’cho — Get Thee Gone? They would probably benefit from it more, wouldn’t you think? They would experience what it was really like to be a Jew, and they would see that we have a powerful God.