the bimah was Rabbi Warnitski and his cantor, an assistant who chanted the prayers. In large synagogues, the cantor was a full time employee, and his greatest attraction was his voice, but in Gremai he was Moishe Feldman, the owner of the small shop. Feldman had been an unpaid volunteer for fifteen years, and during the past two or three, his voice had begun to give out. At the times he was to strike a high note, the boys would start grinning, expecting the worst, which did come, but their fathers kept their respect, for Feldman gave what he could.
When Jakob entered, the rabbi spoke a few quiet words in Feldman’s ear, then motioned his cousin’s son to him. Jakob stepped up to the bimah, and, standing by Rabbi Warnitski’s side, began assisting him. He chanted with such clarity, in such perfect tone and speed, that the members nodded in satisfaction.
It was a short service, about forty-five minutes, then the three started homeward, Israel making the best speed he could, and Zelek holding onto Jakob’s hand. Israel had been impressed by his new boarder. Generally, he was tuned off by the young men who dedicated themselves too eagerly to every dot and dash of ceremonial fervor. He himself was religious, and he gave the Lord His due at every turn, but he accepted the fact that God was slightly less concerned about how often you bowed your head then He was for man’s true feelings. So Israel had made his peace with ritual, and did not feel guilty about cutting a corner here or there. Jakob had made him feel that ritual did have meaning beyond its purely exhibitionist character. Here was a youth headed straight for a seat among the pious Talmid Chachems, yet equally the kind of lad he would have liked to sail with. He spoke straight out, with respect, even though he had an air which placed him far above the norm. And look at the way Zelek took to him. Furthermore, he did not make an effort to help Israel walk, like so many did, but unobtrusively kept down his long-legged gait so the older man could limp along without undue stress.
By sunset, the house had been swept and scrubbed, and the women and girls dressed in their Sabbath finery. Motlie lit the traditional two candles and closed her eyes. “Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe,” she prayed, passing her palms towards herself over the candles, “Who has sanctified us by Thy commandments, and has commanded us to kindle the Sabbath light.” Alongside the candles was her prized plate, and on it was a small coin, the most she could afford for charity. Beside her were Hanna and the girls, for they, too, must memorize the words, since it was the wife’s duty to recite them every Sabbath for the reminder of her life.
When Israel entered, he kissed each of them, wishing them a good Sabbath. Hershel was there, clad in a fine, light blue suit with five buttons down the front, a white, high-collared shirt, blue tie, and soft, ankle high dress boots.
He eyed the Hasid curiously, having been told of his presence earlier, and was surprised at the firm grip he received when shaking his hand. In short order, all were seated at the table, set with the best linen tablecloth, the best dinnerware, as is custom on the Sabbath.
At Israel’s place were two braided challahs covered by Motlie’s favorite cloth, and his silver goblet, given to him on his bar mitzvah almost thirty years before, containing wine. He gave the blessing, then pulled pieces from a challah and passed them around for each to eat and sip their own wine.
Suddenly, Jakob began to sing a Sabbath song. One by one the others joined in. He switched to a more spirited tune and clapped his hands to keep time. Quicker and quicker went his beat, then he rose from his chair and started dancing, whirling with the tempo, raising his hands high, jumping into the air. The gold flecks in his eyes sparkled with pleasure and his face shone.
“Come!” he called out to the others. “Dance to the Shabbas, the Queen of our week. Our Bride.”
He began to sing:
Come my beloved to meet the Bride
Let us welcome the presence of the Sabbath
Come in peace…and come in joy…
Come, O Bride! Come, O Bride!
Zelek stood up and ran over to him, hopping in the air and kicking his feet, trying to follow Jakob’s movements. All laughed at the boy’s antics and began clapping their hands and joining in with the singing.
“Come, everyone!” said Jakob. “Dance to the Lord. He is here, with us. Come, show your love for Him.”
Motlie got to her feet and danced around him, singing in a high, thin voice. In seconds, color came to her cheeks, and her eyes brightened. Reba pulled Gitel up from her chair and motioned to Hanna. “Come, Hanna, dance with us.” She rose, chuckling, and joined their frolicking.
Jakob broke into a fresh tune. He caught up Zelek in his arms and began whirling, the boy screaming with joy.
Hershel watched with a smile on his lips, then it came over him, the belly tingling warmth of belonging. He sprang to his feet, his deep voice picking up the tune and words.
Israel sat there with delight on his face, the cane tapping at the floor. He slowly rose and began hobbling in a circle, singing with happiness. Motlie smiled at him and danced over, her arms held outright, courting him while she turned, never touching, for that was custom, with a radiance on her face that Israel had not seen for months.
They danced and twirled and sang until they finally fell onto their chairs, puffing, yet smiling with pleasure.
Hanna rested for only a few seconds, then brought over the food.
“I haven’t had this much exercise in years,” said Hershel happily. He looked across the table at Jakob, his face animated, a gleam of bliss in his eyes. “Do you believe that God is here with us?” he asked. “You know what I mean. Is He especially here?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Jakob, winded. “The Lord actually joins us here. With Him are two angels, the good and the bad. If a man sits down to a happy table with a devoted family, the good angel will say, “May all your Sabbaths be like this,” and the bad angel will say, “So be it.” But if this day is not dedicated to God, the bad angel will say, “May all your Sabbaths be like this one,” and it will be from that day on. The orthodox believe that the world is merely a place formed by God. We believe that God resides here, that the world becomes a sacrament because of His indwelling.”
Hershel sat forward, captivated. “Is that the crucial belief of the Hasids?”
“More than that. We know that since God is present in everything, there can be no evil.”
Hanna and Reba began serving the chicken soup. Jakob swallowed a couple of spoonfuls and continued. “All men are equal. You hear that remark everywhere you go, but most of it is just talk. To a Hasid, all men are truly equal.”
“The am ha-aretz, the ignorant one, and the Talmid Chachem, the wisest of the Jews?” asked Hershel, a smile on his lips.
“Even so,” said Jakob.
Motlie saw Israel’s eyes harden as he pushed away his bowl of soup, so she coughed gently as a warning to hold his temper. All at the table had abruptly stopped talking. What Jakob had said was blasphemous.
“Are you saying,” said Israel in a strangled voice, “that a Talmid Chachem is no more in the eyes of the Lord than, God forbid, me?”
“No more, no less.”
“Shame!” exploded Israel. “How can you say such a terrible thing?”
Jakob
