morning, Josef and Mosche sat at the back of St. Paul’s Church. A few dozen faithful people, many of them old, had gathered near the front of the church for the early morning Mass. It was too dark inside to recognize faces across the wide expanse, and anyway, the boys were facing the backs of people’s heads. Still, Mosche seemed uneasy. “What if somebody notices me?” he whispered to Josef.
“Don’t worry. Nobody will.”
“How much longer before it starts?”
“It’s starting now. They just lit the candles and the priest is about to come through that side door.”
Mosche sank down lower on the bench and put his hand over part of his face. A young priest came through a door near the front of the church. He was wearing a long, white garment tied at the waist. The priest walked quickly to the altar set against the front wall, and with his back to the congregation, began immediately to chant a nearly monotone series of syllables. Mosche looked at Josef with a curious expression, and Josef shrugged his shoulders. The priest droned on for a quarter of an hour, interrupted only by the occasional tinkling of a small bell. Mosche stopped listening after a while, focusing his attention instead on the decorations all around him. There were statues with gilded features, paintings of biblical scenes, and ornate wood carvings. The stonework here was more elaborate than in the synagogue, though drabber in color. After a time, Josef tapped him on the shoulder and pointed toward the front of the church. The priest was lifting, with both hands above his head, a small white loaf. He placed it on the altar. Next he picked up a grey cup, lifted that too above his head, and said some words the boys could not understand. Still facing the altar, the priest did something with the bread and took a drink from the cup. Finally, he turned around and faced the congregation for the first time. People started moving forward. With the loaf in his hand, the priest stepped out to meet them.
“We can go now,” whispered Josef.
When the boys were outside, Mosche asked, “Is that all there is to it?”
“That’s it. If we came on a Sunday or a feast day, there would be more priests and more stuff happening.”
“That’s even more boring than a bad sermon in the synagogue. What language was the priest speaking?”
“Latin.”
“Can you understand it?”
“No. I’m supposed to start studying with Father Matthias next spring.”
“Do all those people understand Latin?”
“No. Only the priests and a few others.”
“What good is it if they can’t understand it? How can they learn anything?”
“Maybe somebody explains it. The old priest Father Albert taught me some things about the Mass. I guess some of the other kids learn too.”
“Who gets to eat the bread and wine?” asked Mosche.
“People who’ve been approved.”
“What if somebody ate it who wasn’t approved?”
“He would die, I guess.”
“That sounds pretty bad. I think I’ll stick to challah. It’s safer.”
•
Three months later, preparations were being made in the Jewish quarter for an important event. The granddaughter of the late Rabbi Isaak ha-Levi was to be married in the synagogue to a young scholar from Mainz. Not only would the groom’s entire family be coming to Worms, but also friends and rabbis and scholars from other cities on the Rhein and elsewhere. Wormsers had not seen such bustling activity in many years.
Even the Christian community was affected. Large amounts of food and drink would be consumed, and much of it would come from shops outside the Jewish quarter. Also, the visitors would need places to stay. Many Christians living near Jews’ Alley opened their doors to Jewish lodgers, although some wondered whether it was a proper thing to do. In spite of her misgivings, Josef’s mother accepted the request of an elderly merchant from Troyes and his wife. They seemed harmless, and the extra income would be most welcome.
Eliel and Ruth were quiet, unobtrusive people. Neither spoke the local language; they communicated with Josef’s mother by means of smiles and hand signals. Not that a great deal of communication was needed—the couple spent most of the day with their friends in the Jewish quarter. The only meal they took at the house was breakfast, and Mosche had given detailed instructions to Josef about what foods were allowable.
One morning Josef and his mother were sitting at the table with their two lodgers. They had nearly finished eating breakfast when Ruth turned to Josef’s mother and asked a question in her native French, a language neither Josef nor his mother could understand. When they shook their heads, she repeated herself several times, and she took the edge of her skirt between her hands and rubbed vigorously. Still they did not comprehend. Eliel joined the exchange, but it was no use. Finally, in frustration, he pulled out his small Torah and opened it to the second book of Moses. He pointed at a passage of Hebrew text, perhaps hoping these Christians had a Bible of their own and would know what it said. Josef stared at the passage. “It says Moses came down from the mountain and blessed the people, and they washed their clothes. Mutti, I think maybe Ruth would like to wash her clothes.”
“Oh.” She turned to Ruth and said, “Wait a minute.” She went to a cupboard and brought out two buckets and some soap. “Is this what you want?”
Ruth once again spoke some words in her native tongue, but this time she was nodding and smiling. At the bidding of his mother Josef went to fill the buckets with water from the well. Soon after he returned, Ruth began washing her garments.
Now Eliel began pointing to other passages in his Torah. To his astonishment, Josef was able to read all of them aloud in Hebrew. The man began speaking fast in Hebrew, but Josef waved his hands and shook his head. He could not understand modern vocabulary, especially when mixed with foreign idioms, and even the ancient words were unrecognizable if spoken too quickly. Once Eliel slowed down his speech and restricted himself to biblical Hebrew, Josef was able to get the sense of what he said. From then on, the four of them were able to carry on a sort of conversation. Ruth would speak in French, Eliel would translate into biblical Hebrew, and Josef would try to explain to his mother in German what was being said. Then the process would reverse itself. It was slow, but nevertheless it was real communication. The talk was punctuated with laughter when the translations seemed too outlandish.
A friendship developed. Ruth and Eliel began bringing gifts for their hosts each evening. First it was a loaf of challah, then a spinning toy for Josef, then some earrings for his mother. One morning, after their lodgers left for the day, Josef noticed his mother seemed agitated. He asked if something was wrong.
“Yes,” she said. “We should not be accepting these gifts.”
“Why not, Mutti?”
“They are Jews. We should not be too friendly with them.”
“But they’re lodging with us. They want to pay us for giving them a place to stay.”
“Yes. We can accept rent payments, but no more. We don’t want to owe them anything. It’s not right to accept charity from Jews. You know I had doubts about all this in the first place. People say Jews lie and cheat and practice sorcery. If we profit from their devious ways,
