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

“Pa-pa. .”

Please don’t think badly of me that tears come to my eyes when I remember this. But do not even think that Tevye shed so much as a tear or showed, as they say, a sign of sentimentality — never! What I felt in my heart at the time is another story. You yourself are a father, and you know, just as I do, the meaning of the verse like as a father pitieth his children, and you know how a father feels when a child, no matter how it has sinned, looks right into your soul and says to you, “Papa!” Well, try to be strong and drive those feelings away! Then again the hurt persisted, and that fine bit of spite she played on me came to mind. I remembered Chvedka Galagan, may he sink into the earth, and the priest, may his name be erased, and my tears, and Golde’s death, God rest her soul. . No! Tell me yourself, how can I forget it, how can I forget it?

But then again, after all, she was still my child, and again the verse came to me, like as a father pitieth his children. How can a person be so harsh when God says of Himself that He is an all-forgiving God ! And especially since she had repented and wanted to return to her father and to her God! What do you say, Pani Sholem Aleichem? You’re a Jew yourself who writes books and gives advice to everybody. Tell me, what should Tevye have done? Should he have embraced her as one of his own, hugged and kissed her, as we say on Yom Kippur at Kol Nidrei, I have pardoned according to Thy word —come to me, you are my child? Or should I have turned my back on her, as I did before, and told her, Lech l’cho —get thee gone, go back to where you came from? No, imagine that you are in Tevye’s place, and tell me honestly, as a true and good friend, what you would have done. And if you cannot tell me right away, I will give you time to think it over.

Meanwhile I must go. The grandchildren are waiting for me, looking for their grandfather. You must surely know that grandchildren are a thousand times more precious and more lovable than children . Sons and sons of sons— that’s no small thing!

Goodbye, be well, and forgive me for filling your head with so many words. It will give you something to write about. If God wills it, we will meet again someday.

A belated story from Tevye the dairyman, recounted before

the war but, because of the wartime turmoil, not seeing the

light of day till now

WRITTEN IN 1914-16.

You probably remember, Pani Sholem Aleichem, that I once told you about the portion of Lech l’cho — Get Thee Gone, with all the details. I told you how Esau settled accounts with his brother Jacob, repaid him well for the blessings of the firstborn son he stole from him. Like Jacob of old, I was exiled from my village with all my worldly goods, with my children and grandchildren, as their edict required. They made an utter ruin of my property and poor belongings; even my horse had to be sold, which to this day I cannot speak of without tears coming to my eyes. As we say on Tisha B’Av, This too is worthy of tears . That poor horse earned the right to have a few tears shed over him.

But never mind. After all, it’s the same story. Why am I more special to God than the rest of our Jewish brethren, whom Ivan is driving from the blessed villages as quickly as he can manage it? He is sweeping and cleaning out and uprooting every trace of a Jew! As we say in yaaleh veyavo, so as there shall be no sign —nothing will remain of their presence. I have nothing more to complain to God about than all the rest of the village Jews who are being driven out and are now wandering in every direction, having no place to lay their heads, quaking with fear every minute lest a police officer appear for whatever reason. Tevye is not ignorant like other village Jews. He understands a few Psalms and is no stranger to the midrash and can, with God’s help, interpret a portion of Chumesh and Rashi as well. So what? Do you expect Esau to appreciate this and have respect for such a Jew? Or maybe I deserve thanks for it? The fact is, I have nothing to be ashamed of, and a fault it certainly isn’t. Thank God I am a Jew, the equal of others, and am not so blind that I cannot see or understand the small print in the holy writings. I am acquainted with the ins and outs of scripture, as it is said: Worthy is he who understands .

You must think, Pani Sholem Aleichem, that I am just saying this off the top of my head. Or that I want to show off for you, to boast of my great knowledge and learning. Don’t be offended, but only someone who doesn’t know Tevye would say that. Tevye does not speak without thinking about it first, and he was never a vain braggart. Tevye likes to talk about something he has seen with his own eyes or has experienced himself. Sit down right here for a little while, and you’ll hear a good story, about how sometimes it can come in handy if someone isn’t an ignoramus and has some notion of the higher things and knows when and where and how to apply a portion from our old Book of Psalms.

To make a long story short, if I’m not mistaken, it was a long time ago, right in the heat of Ivanchik’s revolutions and constitutions. The hooligans were set loose on Jewish cities and villages and given a free hand. They destroyed Jewish property and goods, as it says in the Siddur: they shattered windows and tore bedding . I remember once telling you that I was not surprised by such things. I do not scare easily. If it happens, it happens. If it is fated, an edict from heaven, then how can I be an exception among Jews? As we say in the chapter, Each Jew hath his share. But then again, if it’s simply an epidemic, a kind of blight, God pity us all, a passing windstorm, you can’t take it personally! The windstorm will subside, the sky will clear, and it will be a new day for us.

And that’s how it was, as I once told you, when the village council informed me of the good news that they had come to do to me what they were doing to all of Israel — to administer the good deed of “driving out the Jews.” At first I reviled them soundly, complained, and demanded answers, as only Tevye can: “I ask you, how and why and when? Give me an explanation for suddenly swooping down and attacking a person in the middle of the day and tearing the feathers out of his pillows?”

Well, you can complain all you like, but all my words were useless. The hooligans were stubborn and insisted they had, for appearances’ sake, to follow orders from the police in case an officer blew in, a plague on him. And if he saw they had let a Jew pass as an equal with no sign of a pogrom, how would it look to the police? That’s why, they said, the council decreed that something had to be done to me! They must!

I thought it over and finally said, “Listen to what I have to say. Let the council so decree, but that’s beside the point. Is there not something higher than the council? But you know there is something higher than the council.”

“Tell us, what can be higher?”

I said, “God. I don’t mean our God or your God. I mean our God and God of our Fathers, the God of us all, who has created me and you and your whole council. That’s who I mean. And you must ask Him if He has commanded you to do me injury. It could be,” I said, “that He does command it, but then again, it could also be that He doesn’t want it at all. Ay, how can we know? Let us throw lots,” I said. “Here is a Book of God’s Psalms. Do you know what the Psalms are? We call it Psalms and you call it Psalter. The holy Psalter,” I said, “will be the judge between us. It will decide whether or not you must punish me.”

They exchanged disbelieving smiles. Ivan Poperilo the mayor stepped out from among them and said me, “Exactly how will the holy Psalter make a judgment?”