I am grateful to Paul Pinchas Bashan, Gabriel Levin, and Rhonna Weber Rogol, the living translators of two of these four stories, for their creativity and cooperation with this project. Paul and Rhonna’s new translation of “Two Scholars Who Were in Our Town” is a particularly welcome addition to the Agnon bookshelf as it is long overdue and has been one of his most important works unavailable in English until now. Their collaboration as translators, which was initiated by Rhonna with the encouragement of Prof. Nehama Aschkenasy, of the University of Connecticut (while discussing the influence of this story on the recent Israeli film, “Footnote”), is a hopeful sign for Jewish and Hebrew high culture in the United States.
The commitment of The Toby Press to continue publishing Hebrew classics in superb English translations is the personal vision of our publisher, Mr. Matthew Miller, and the animating force behind The Toby Press S.Y. Agnon library. I thank him and my colleagues at Toby — Tani Bayer, Tomi Mager, and especially Gila Fine. Various friends and teachers have been particularly supportive, encouraging, and helpful with different aspects of my ongoing engagement with S.Y. Agnon, and I am pleased to single out Avraham and Toby Holtz, Yoel Kortick, Alan Mintz, Avi Shmidman, and especially Ariel Hirschfeld. The friendship, advice, and havruta of James S. Diamond z”l is sorely missed. My own understanding of the stories in this volume, and many others in this series, has been greatly enhanced through the phenomenal privilege of teaching regularly at the Agnon House in Jerusalem (and via www.WebYeshiva.org/Agnon), and I am grateful to the many students I have encountered there and online, as well as to the staff of that great institution, and to its director, Oreet Meital.
Jeffrey Saks
Editor, The S.Y. Agnon Library
The Toby Press
Two Scholars Who Were in Our Town
“Reb Shlomo was standing and sermonizing and his voice was like that of the humble nightingale on a summer night.”
~ ~ ~
1.
THREE OR FOUR GENERATIONS AGO, when Torah was beloved by Israel and the entire glory of a man was Torah, our town was privileged to be counted among the most notable towns in the land on account of its scholars, who endowed our town with a measure of grace through the Torah that they learned. It goes without saying that Torah had already found pleasant enough accommodations among the elders of our old study house, yet the other study houses that had been built one after another enhanced wisdom even more. And even in the marketplaces and the roads of our town study fulfilled the verse “Wisdom calls aloud in the street, she raises her voice in the public squares.” And if people stood around in the marketplace, appearing to haggle with one another over questions of real estate and loan collection and dissolution of partnerships and financial compensation and so on, they weren’t really arguing over the monetary issues themselves, but rather about the laws pertaining to them in Hoshen Mishpat. And even those who filled their buckets at the well, used to fill their hearts with words of Torah. Particularly noteworthy was the new Kloyz, which from the fifteenth of the month of Av until the seventeenth of Tammuz never once shut its lights at night. This was the very same Kloyz for which one of the rich men of the town had dedicated space in his courtyard, to ensure that the residence would continue to belong to his lineage throughout coming generations, inasmuch as any dwelling that has a holy place dedicated to Torah and prayer remains in the hands of the family, from generation to generation, for eternity. But, let us now leave aside these matters that will not reappear until the arrival of the Redeemer and tell a little something of what our elders used to tell, about two great scholars who were in our town back in the days when everyone made Torah the essence of their being, because they understood that the saying “the joy of the Lord is our Fortress” refers to the Torah.
2.
One day, between the Passover and Shavuot holidays, a man arrived at our new Kloyz carrying with him a large loaf of bread, the kind that villagers bake for themselves which is large enough to last a man six days, and in his pockets a few fruits and a few vegetables. Since he walked in and saw the bookshelves that lined all four walls, he knew that this must be the place he had coveted and for which he had yearned. But he wondered how this Kloyz, which was reputed to carry on uninterrupted Torah learning both day and night, could be totally deserted. Except on that particular day one of the notables of the town had written a nuptial agreement for his daughter, who had become engaged to the son of an important man from another town, so the entire town had gone out to greet the bridegroom and his scholarly father and not a soul had remained in the Kloyz.
The man put down his belongings, took himself a Gemara, sat down and stayed put, not so much as lifting his head from the Gemara until the men of the Kloyz had returned. People approached him saying, “This is my seat” and “This is my Gemara.” He responded that Torah is not a birthright, to be treated as private property. They realized that he was a difficult sort and let him be. From that point on, he did not move from his place until mid-day on Friday. And on Sunday, with the rising of the sun he came back, toting a loaf of bread and a bit of fruit and vegetables, and he sat and learned until the following Friday at noontime, when once again he left off studying and departed for his village. Until Sunday, when with the first gleaming of the sun, he would return to his learning once more. He carried on in this fashion over the course of several weeks, which turned into several months. Every Friday afternoon he would set off for his village and every Sunday return to the Kloyz.
3.
Now we will call him by his name, and tell a little of what we know about him. This man was named Moshe Pinchas and he was a villager, a miller’s son. Throughout his childhood he had studied together with the sons of the head of the village, who had maintained good tutors for them. Since the sons grew up and became focused on their various affairs, their father discharged the tutors and Moshe Pinchas was left to study on his own. One time Rabbi Gabriel Reinush came from the nearby city to make the millstones kosher for Passover. This is the great sage Reb Gabriel Reinush, author of Horeh Gaver on Yoreh De’ah. One night, during the evening meal, the miller said to the rabbi, “Would the rabbi agree to test my Moshe Pinchas on Gemara?” The Rabbi called to him affectionately and asked him, “My son, what have you studied?” He told him. He tested him and saw that he knew his studies. He told the miller, “Your son learns well. Send him to me in the city and I’ll keep an eye on him.” So Moshe Pinchas went off to the city and studied under the Rabbi’s tutelage. And when there was a lot of work at the mill, he’d leave off from studying to help his father. After a while, a rabbinical post was arranged for the Rabbi in another town. The Rabbi would travel from his city to that other city and leave his student. Moshe Pinchas began to wonder, “Why am I sitting around here?” Just about then, his father died, the mill was sold and the new miller did not need the services of Moshe Pinchas. Meanwhile the Rabbi was totally preoccupied with going back and forth to deal with the demands of his rabbinical post. Moshe Pinchas picked up and came to our town, which is the Torah capital for all the surrounding area. And since a man needs a piece of meat and a spoonful of soup and a clean shirt on his back, and a woman needs to hear Kiddush and Havdalah, every Friday afternoon he would go to be with his mother in the village and she would provide all that he needed for the next six days.