Sholem Aleichem - Tevye the Dairyman and Motl the Cantor's Son

And it came to pass —here’s what happened. It was just before Shevuos, and I was delivering dairy to one of my customers, a wealthy young widow from Katerineslav who had arrived in Boiberik for the summer with her son Ahronchik. Naturally I was the first person she became acquainted with in Boiberik.

“You were recommended,” the widow said, “for having the best dairy.”

“How can it be otherwise?” I said to her. “Not for nothing did King Solomon say that a good name is heard like a shofar everywhere, and if you want,” I said, “I will tell you what the commentaries have to say about it.” But she interrupted me and told me she was a widow and was not learned in those matters, didn’t know one commentary from another. The most important thing was for the butter to be fresh and the cheese tasty. Nu, can you talk to a woman?

From then on I came around to the Katerineslaver widow twice a week, every Monday and Thursday, like clockwork, and delivered her small order of dairy without ever asking whether or not she needed it. I became quite friendly with her and naturally looked around at the way she lived, peeked into the kitchen, and a few times said what I thought. The first time, of course, the maid gave me a scolding and told me to stop poking around in other people’s pots. The second time they listened to what I had to say, and the third time the widow asked for my opinion, because she realized who Tevye was. The long and the short of it was that she confided in me her problem, her pain, her sorrow — Ahronchik! This young man of twenty was interested only in horses, bicycles, and fishing, and beyond that he cared for nothing — not for business or for making money. His father had left him a fine inheritance, almost a million, but he didn’t bother to look after it! All he knew, she said, was to spend money with a free hand! “Where is the boy?” I asked. “Just let me at him. I’ll have a talk with him about morals, quote a few verses, and read him a midrash.”

“You would do better to bring him a horse than a midrash!” she laughed.

Just as we were talking about him, Ahronchik himself arrived, a slender, tall, healthy young man, full of energy, wearing a broad sash around his waist and a pocket watch stuck into his belt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

“Where have you been?” his mother asked.

“I went sailing,” he said, “and caught fish.”

“Fine work,” I said, “for a fellow like yourself. Back home your money is dwindling away, and you’re here catching fish!”

My widow turned red as a beet. She surely expected her son to grab me by the collar with one strong arm and smite me as the Lord smote the Egyptians, with signs and symbols —that is, give me two smacks and toss me out like a broken potsherd. But no! Tevye is not frightened of such things! When I have something to say, I say it!

Here’s what happened. When the boy heard my words, he stepped back, clasped his hands behind him, regarded me from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, and let out a strange whistle. Suddenly he began laughing so hard that we were both afraid the poor boy had instantly gone mad. What else is there to say? From that moment on we became the best of friends! I must tell you I grew more and more fond of the fellow, even though he was a rake and a spendthrift, too free with money, and something of a fool. For instance, if he ran across a beggar, he would put his hand in his pocket and give away whatever he found there without counting it. Or he would take off a perfectly good new coat and give it to someone. Who did such things?

It was hard on his mother. “What can I do?” she would lament to me, and beg me to have a talk with him. I agreed — why not? Would it cost me anything? I sat down to talk things over with him, threw in examples and some quotations, mixed in a midrash or two, and a few proverbs as only Tevye can.

He seemed to enjoy listening to me and asked what my life was like at home. “I would love,” he said, “to come to you sometimes, Reb Tevye.”

“If you want to come to Tevye,” I said to him, “you just come on over to my farm. You have enough horses and bicycles, and in a pinch you could use your own two legs. It isn’t far, and it’s easy to cut through the woods.”

“When are you at home?”

“You can only find me at home,” I said, “Shabbes or on holidays. Listen, do you know what? God willing, a week from Friday is Shevuos. If you like,” I said, “walk over to us at the farm, and my wife will treat you to cheese blintzes the likes of which your blessed ancestors never partook of in Egypt. ”

“What’s this? You know I’m weak in biblical quotations.”

“I know,” I said. “You are weak. If you had gone to cheder, as I did, you too would know what the rabbis know.”

He laughed. “Good, you will have me as a guest! I will come to you, Reb Tevye, on the first day of Shevuos with a few friends for blintzes. But see to it they are hot!”

“Fire and flame inside and out,” I said, “from the frying pan right into your mouth!”

I arrived home. “Golde,” I called out. “We have guests for Shevuos!”

“ Mazel tov to you,” she said. “Who are they?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I said. “You just prepare eggs. Cheese and butter, we have enough, praise God. You’ll make blintzes for four extra people.” I said, “They really know how to eat but don’t begin to know about Rashi.”

“I knew it. You went and picked up a shlimazel from the land of the starving.”

“You’re a silly fool, Golde!” I said. “What would be so terrible if we did feed a poor person some Shevuos blintzes? But you should know, my most esteemed, honored, and beloved wife, that one of our Shevuos guests is the widow’s son, the one they call Ahronchik. I told you about him.”

“Well,” she said, “that’s another story.”

The power of millions! Even my Golde, when she sniffs out money, becomes another person. That’s the kind of world it is — what can you do? As it is written in the Hallel: Gold and silver, the work of man’s hands —wealth ruins a person.

The bright spring holiday of Shevuos arrived. I don’t need to tell you how lovely, green, and warm my farm becomes at Shevuos. The richest man in town would wish for such blue skies, such green woods fragrant with pines, and such delicious pasture grass for the cows, which stand and chew and look right into your eyes as if to say, “Always give us grass like this, and we won’t hold back any milk!” No, say what you will, I wouldn’t trade it for the best livelihood in the city. Where in the city do you have this sky? How do we say in the Hallel: The heavens are the Lord’s —it is a God-given sky! In the city if you raise your head, what do you see? A brick wall, a roof, a chimney — but where is there a tree?

When my guests came to my farm for Shevuos, they could not get over it. Four young fellows came on horseback, one behind the other. And Ahronchik, I tell you, sat on an Arabian steed! You couldn’t buy that horse for three hundred rubles!

“Welcome, guests!” I said to them. “I see that in honor of Holy Shevuos you’ve come riding on horseback? That’s all right. Tevye is not one of the pious ones either, and if you are punished for it in the world to come, it won’t hurt me. Ay, Golde! Get the blintzes ready, and let’s carry the table outside. I have nothing to show my guests in the house.”

“Shprintze! Teibl! Beilke! Where are you? Move faster!” I ordered my daughters, who brought out a table with benches, a tablecloth, platters, spoons, forks, and salt. Right after that came Golde with the blintzes, piping hot, steaming, straight from the frying pan, delicious, plump, and sweet as honey! My guests could not praise the blintzes enough.