"Child! child what can you do?" sounded from behind them in a lazy, drawling voice.
They all turned. It was the phlegmatic Ber who had entered during the conversation. Having thus answered the angry exclamation of the young man, he stretched himself on Eliezer's bed. It seemed that those present were accustomed to see him among them, for they showed neither the slightest impatience nor confusion. On the contrary, the conversation was continued. One of the young men, a relative of Meir's, half in doubt and in smiles, half in fear and seriously, began to repeat to the cantor the melamed's speech about En-Sof and the Sefirots, about the day of the Messiah, and the gigantic fish, Leviathan. Another asked Eliezer what he thought of a moral which taught that it was sufficient to study Mishma and Zohar in order to obtain pardon for evil deeds.
Eliezer listened silently. He did not answer for a long time; then he slowly raised his head and said:
"Read the Torah! There it is written: 'God is one, Jehovah! He is not satisfied with your sacrifices, singing, and incense, but he requires from you a love of the truth, to defend the oppressed, to teach the ignorant, and heal the sick, because these are your first duties.'"
The two young men opened their eyes. "Well!" they exclaimed, "then the melamed did not tell the truth!"
Eliezer was silent for a long time again. It was evident that he preferred not to answer, but the young impatient hands pulled him by the sleeve, asking for a reply.
"He did not tell the truth," he finally exclaimed timidly.
At that moment Meir put his hand on his shoulder. "Eliezer," said he, "you gave me the same answer two years ago, when you came back from the great city where you studied singing. Then you opened my eyes, which alone began to search for the truth, and you taught me that we are not true Israelites; that our faith was not the same that was given to us on Mount Sinai; that Judaism has grown muddy like water when a handful of earth is thrown into it—and that mud has blackened our heads and our hearts. Eliezer, you have told me this, and I have seen the light. Since that time I have loved you as a brother who helped me out of obscurity, but Since that time, I feel in my heart a great oppression and a great loneliness."
"Meir, Eliezer taught you, and Eliezer is silent—you, his pupil, commence to talk," said her, whose lazy words were tinged with irony.
"I wish I knew how to talk," exclaimed the young man, with sparkling eyes, "and what to do!"
And after a while he added, more softly:
"But I know neither how to speak nor how to act—only in my heart I bear a great hatred toward those who deceive us, and a great love toward those who are deceived."
"And a great audacity," drawled Ber, negligently stretched on the bed.
"Until now I have not had the audacity, but—but if I knew what to do, I would have it."
There was a silence for a few moments which was finally broken by
Meir.
"Eliezer, you are happier!"
"Why?"
"You have been out into the broad world—you have seen its wisdom—you have listened to clever people. Ah! if I could but go out into the world!"
"Eliezer, tell us something of the great world," said one of the young men.
And in the eyes watching the cantor there was curiosity and a strange longing.
Of the youth of Szybow, Eliezer alone had been out into the world. This was because of his marvellous voice, to cultivate which he had been sent to a large city. Everything he had to say had been told to his friends long ago. It was not much, but such as it was they were willing to listen to it every day. How does a large city appear? How high are the houses there? What kind of people live in those houses, and how many among them are Israelites? Who are rich, and wear beautiful dresses, and are greatly respected among the people? And why are they respected? Is it because they are rich? No—in Szybow there are also rich merchants, and the Purices (nobles) care for them only when they need their money, and when they do not need money they despise them. The Israelites in the great city are respected because they have a great deal of knowledge, and they have studied not only Mishma and Gemara, but other different, beautiful, and necessary things. And why in Szybow is there not such a school where these things could be studied, and why do Rabbi Isaak and Reb Moshe say that these sciences are the wine-garden of Sodom and infidel flames, and that every true Israelite should avoid them?
"Eliezer, how do those big carriages run without horses, and who invented them so cleverly?"
"Eliezer, do all Israelites there live kosher?"
"Eliezer, what is said there of the Rabbis Todros?"
"They speak ill of them."
A great surprise! The Israelites in the broad world speak ill of the Todros; and they believe neither in En-Sof nor in the Sefirots and the whole Kabalistic science!
"And what do they say of the Talmud?"
"They say that this beautiful book, full of wisdom, was written by clever and saintly people, but it should be shortened and many things left out because these are quite different times, and that which was formerly necessary is now harmful."
Again great surprise! The Talmud should be shortened, because it is difficult to study Gemara, and it dulls the minds and memories of the children!
True! They remember how difficult it was for them to study Gemara, and how the melamed had cruelly beaten them because they could not remember it, and how on that account they grew weak physically and mentally, and the little Lejbele, the son of a poor tailor, remained forever stupid and sick for the same reason!
"And who shortened the Talmud, and made it easier to study?"
"It was done by the great and saintly Moses Majmonides, whom the
Rabbis excommunicated."
The Rabbis excommunicated the great and saintly savant! Therefore the Rabbis could be unjust and bad. One must not always believe what they teach!
"What more has Moses Majmonides written?"
"He has written More Nebuchim a guide for lost ones—a wise and beautiful book, which, when one reads one is inclined to weep with tenderness and laugh with joy!"
"Eliezer, have you read that book?"
"Yes. I have it."
"Where did you get it?"
"A wise Israelite gave it to me. He is a lawyer in the large city."
"Eliezer, read us something from that book."
In that way was revealed to those naive minds, involuntarily longing for the sun and broad bosom of humanity,—even though the revelation was partial and chaotic—the phenomena and thoughts circulating in the waste spaces. The result of this was not the production of firm convictions, nor the spinning out of a guiding thread to another better life; but doubt entered their consciences and desire filled their breasts—the young eyes veiled with the sadness of the thought which began to feel its fetters.
It
