S. Agnon - A Guest for the NIght

How many hours slipped by in this way? When I rose from my studies and went back to the hotel, the whole town was asleep, except for the rabbi’s house. It seemed that he too spent his nights studying the Torah. Or perhaps he was only writing his own Torah about the Torah, so that I had preserved the world alone.

I opened the door of my hotel and went in. All the people of the house were deep in slumber. Even from Rachel’s room nothing was to be heard. I walked on tiptoe until I reached my room.

The lamp was lit, with the wick turned down, and it glimmered slightly through the darkness. Next to it stood a dish covered with a plate. Blessings on my hostess for preparing me an evening meal. I ate my fill, went to bed, and slept. It was many nights since I had had such a sweet sleep.

After taking my breakfast I went back to the Beit Midrash, and as I had done the day before so I did today, only I started at the beginning of the tractate, so as to study the Gemara in the correct order and master one tractate, instead of snatching one section here and another there.

Those were beautiful days. The three days of mourning before the Fast of Av passed and the days of consolation arrived. I felt as if the whole world were new, for I was born on the Ninth of Av, and every year, at this season, this man’s heart renews itself and reawakens.

To be brief, the month of Av was at its hottest, so I did not have the trouble of keeping the stove alight. When the stove is not lit, no one comes to warm himself. All those who were accustomed to come to the Beit Midrash had gone out to seek their livelihood wherever they imagined they could find it. One was standing at the door of his shop chewing his measure, one was chewing the air, while another was going around the villages exchanging utensils for food, and would that all their trouble were not in vain.

So long as a man sits and studies, his joy is great. When he stops learning, his heart is grieved. So long as I sat and studied I was happy, but when I interrupted my learning I grieved over days gone by, when I could have sat and studied and did not do so. Like wells that are dried up, so those days and years stood before me, empty and dark. Where was my wisdom, where was my sense, how had I allowed those days and years to slip by in vain? Father in heaven, Thou allottest life to all living things and teachest man understanding — where is the understanding in the life Thou hast allotted me? “The foolishness of man perverts his way, and his heart frets against the Lord.” The foolishness of this man has perverted his way, and instead of rebuking himself, his heart frets against the Holy One, blessed be He.

But does everything depend on a man’s deeds, and are his fortunes and misfortunes caused by his actions? Does not the cause have a first Mover, so why is punishment visited on man? On this matter, the inquirers have written at great length and explained it in their own way. However, I explain it not like them, but as our sages, of blessed memory, did when they compared it to the case of a man who has two ways before him.

Let us return to our subject. “I thought on my ways, and turned my feet unto Thy testimonies.” I regulated my thoughts with good counsel, and my feet, which had been leading me to markets and streets, fields and forests, I turned back to the Beit Midrash to study Torah.

According to my calculations, my money was enough to keep me for a month, or with economy for two. I had already been wondering what to do from now on. Was I to make my lodging in the woodshed and sleep with my hand under my head, as Reb Hayim, may he rest in peace, used to do? Besides, a man needs other things, like bread to eat and clothes to wear. Now you are clad like a gentleman, but what will you do for the morrow? A man’s clothes do not last forever, and in the end you will be like that foreigner whose image you have been seeing in your imagination for several days.

Who was this foreigner? Well, one Sabbath eve at dark a man came to the hotel in our town, well dressed, with a gold chain hanging on his waistcoat, a green hat with a peacock feather on his head, and a leather satchel in his hand. He was received with great honor, because he seemed to be rich. He came in and sat down at the table and asked for a glass of tea, which was brought him. He pushed it away and said, “I found a fly in it.” So they apologized and brought another. He made a wry face and said, “There’s a fly in the glass.” They brought him another glass, but he would not drink. When they brought him a fourth, he started to shout. “You are giving me flies to drink.” In the morning he wrapped himself up in his prayer shawl and danced as he prayed, quite unlike the foreign Jews. People were startled and called the neighbors. There was one bully among them, who provoked him and tore his prayer shawl. “Thief,” cried the stranger, “you’ve stolen my watch.” The bully kicked him and knocked him down. People gathered from the whole street and said the man had gone crazy. A policeman came and brought him before the judge; the owners of the hotel followed and demanded their money. He looked for money to pay but could not find any. He burst into tears and said, “They’ve stolen my money.” Some time later a poor man came and stood at the door of our house. I was stunned. “Surely,” said I, “it is that foreigner.” “Yes,” said he, smiling, “it is I.” Mother gave him food and drink, clothing and footwear, because he was dressed in rags and his shoes were cracked. “Poor man,” I whispered to myself, “what has become of you!” He smiled and said, “Good, good.”

Let us return to our subject. My money was steadily dwindling. Every day I counted it and every day it grew less and less. “Money, money,” I said to it, “where have you gone? Where have you fled? Tomorrow I will want to buy clothes or shoes and you will not be there to help me.” To this my money replied, ‘What are we and what is our strength?” “When I went to buy a coat,” said I to my money, “you did not say so; you raced to do my will.” “In those days,” my money replied, “we were plentiful. And the strength of the few is not as the strength of the many.” “If so,” said I, “what shall I do?” “How should we know?” said my money. “But we can give you one piece of good advice: wait a little while before you put your hand into your pocket.” “Perhaps,” said I, jesting, “you will be fruitful and multiply in the meantime.”

My clothes were still good and I had no need to buy new ones; my shoes, too, were whole. So that they should not get worn or torn, and I should not have to repair them, I did little walking, and when I went out I walked very soberly, so that they should last a long time.

But why should this man be afraid of a torn garment or a worn shoe? Aren’t there many men of good family who go about in rags without their honesty being in any way affected? But it is in the interests of the people of our town that I should not be like one of them. In the past, when I used to engage my mind with trifles, I would ask myself: What good is it to a poor man if his neighbor is rich? If the rich man is well dressed and eats tasty dishes, does that do the poor man any good? Or what do you lose if your neighbor is as poor as you? If he were dressed in rags like you, and had nothing to eat, would that be any loss to you? Sometimes I would explain it to myself in this way: a man loves his honor as his life, so he is happy if his neighbor is rich. And sometimes I would explain it like this: it is natural for people to love beauty, so that even if the poor man does not profit from the rich man’s wealth, he profits by contemplating the splendor of man. And just as he rejoices in the rich man, who adorns the world with his handsome clothes, so he is grieved at the poor man, who dims the luster of the world with his rags.