S. Agnon - A Guest for the NIght

I looked at the infant and he looked at me. Something like two sparks of blue light came from his eyes and they were covered with tears. He wrinkled his nose and puckered the skin on his forehead. At that moment the child’s face changed and there was no longer any impress of what he had been engaged in before, like a man whose body is gripped by pain. I quickly put my left hand under the infant’s backbone and raised him somewhat, so that his head should lie comfortably. The mohel adjusted my knees, interlocking them so that the child should not slip, for so long as he has not entered into the Covenant one may fear that he might slip away from the commandment. The mohel took the knife and said the blessing for circumcision. Yeruham then recited the blessing “Blessed art Thou, O Lord, who has commanded us to make him enter the Covenant of Abraham our Father.” All those present answered “Amen” and said, “Even as he has entered into the Covenant, so may he enter into the Torah, the nuptial canopy, and good deeds.”

A glass was put into the hands of Rachel’s father. He took it, screwed up his eyes, and in a tone of affection recited the blessing “Who didst sanctify the well-beloved from the womb,” and called the child after me, to show me affection in front of Yeruham. Thus I was blessed with two privileges: first, that I sat in the same chair as Elijah, and second, that the son of our Father Abraham was called by my name. Surely it would have been better to call the child after a deceased relative, for it gives satisfaction to the dead when a living person is called by his name, but half the graveyard was full of Rachel’s relatives, and they did not wish to make a choice between one and another. And the reason they did not call him after Yeruham’s father was so as not to recall his shame.

After the circumcision, the rabbi took his leave and went home, for a scholar is not obliged to take part in a circumcision meal, unless there are worthy people present, as it is said in the commentary on the tractate Passover . But we enjoyed ourselves with honey cakes, and brandy, and sweet fish cooked with honey and raisins. We ate and drank to the health of the newly circumcised infant, and to the life of his father and mother, and the life of his grandfather and grandmother, and the lives of all those present at the circumcision meal. When everyone was glad with eating and drinking, I rose to my feet and said, “It is a custom in Israel to give a gift to the circumcised infant, as the Holy One, blessed be He, gave the Land of Israel to Abraham our Father on the day he circumcised himself. Dear brethren, what gift can I give the child? If I give him a garment, or a hat, or socks, it is natural for the infant to grow from day to day; today my gifts will fit him, but tomorrow he will have no need of them. If I give him a silver watch, when he grows up he may become rich and buy a golden one, thus belittling my gift. But I hereby give him the key of our old Beit Midrash. It is said in the Gemara: ‘Synagogues and Batei Midrashot abroad are destined to be installed in the Land of Israel.’ Happy is he that has the key in his possession, so that he will be able to open them and enter in.”

After the handing over of the key, they brought a glass of wine and honored me by having me pronounce the grace. When I reached the fourth blessing, I remembered that I was returning to Jerusalem, and that it was still desolate. Then my mouth was closed and the springs of my eyes were opened. But I summoned up strength and completed the blessing like a man: “Who buildeth Jerusalem in His mercy, amen,” and all the celebrants loudly and joyfully answered, “Amen.”

After pronouncing the grace I rose from the table, took my leave of the company, and went into the room where I had been staying before I went to live with Kuba. I examined my belongings, put aside those that were fit to take with me, and left the rest for the poor.

Yeruham came in, packed up my belongings and put them on his shoulder, and went off to take them to the railway station, while I went to take my leave of Rachel and her son. Then I said farewell to my host and his wife, to Dolik and Lolik and Babtchi, and also to Krolka. Since all my money had gone I had nothing left except my traveling expenses, so I consoled her with a pretty trinket, as well as some kind words, in case she had taken more trouble with me than she was paid for. Thus I took leave of my acquaintances, of our own faith or not, and asked their pardon in case I had not treated them with sufficient respect or rebuked them when they spoke disparagingly of the Land of Israel. Finally I went to take my leave of our old Beit Midrash. Since I had handed over the key to the child I did not trouble him by asking him to lend it to me, in case he might think I did not intend to give it back, and cry — especially as it is an infant’s way to take, and not to give. I stood in front of the door of the Beit Midrash and looked through the keyhole. The space of the Beit Midrash shrank within the ball of this man’s eye, and a shining, clarified light shone from it.

Thus I stood for some time, until I remembered that the day was passing and the time had come to go to the station. I wiped the lock with my coat and went away.

It is half an hour’s walk from the Beit Midrash to the railway station, but I took less. I did not look at the houses and the ruins as on the eve of the Day of Atonement, when I had come to the town, but I opened my nostrils wide and breathed in the odor of the town — that odor of millet boiled in honey.

At the station I found Yeruham and Kuba standing with my belongings. Kuba had been kind enough to undertake to bring my chattels from his house, so that I should be free for myself.

Besides Yeruham and Kuba there were a number of Jews there, some in Sabbath clothes and some with the skirts of their coats let down as a sign of respect and importance. Since they were standing there without sacks or any other equipment for a journey, I wondered somewhat why they had suddenly come here, but I was so busy with my own journey that I asked no questions.

Meanwhile, Daniel Bach came to take his leave of me. Indeed I had already taken my leave of him and his family an hour before, but he came on behalf of his son Raphael, for Raphael wanted his father to see that man who was going up to the Land of Israel immediately before he left the town. I thanked Mr. Bach for having been my guide in the town and promised that if God privileged me to reach Jerusalem safely, I would go and see his father, and also — for those who are alive here are different from those who live in the after-world — the grave of Yeruham his brother. Daniel sighed and said, “This is the anniversary of my brother’s death.” I gazed at Daniel Bach, who was standing on his artificial leg, which he owed to his ignominious trade in this exile. I recalled all the troubles that had overtaken him and, with them, his brother who had been killed guarding the Land. Now the father of both brothers was living in Jerusalem, where he prayed for the repose of the soul of the son who had been killed and no doubt also remembered the son who lived. Surely it would have been fitting for Daniel Bach to go to the synagogue and recite the Kaddish.

Meanwhile several other people came. Some of them I knew and some I did not, or knew them only by sight. Szibucz is not a large town and its inhabitants are not numerous, but still there were people there to whom I had not happened to talk. “What is special about today?” I asked Daniel Bach. “They have come out of respect for you, sir,” he replied.

I remembered my entry into the town, unnoticed, while now I was leaving with much ceremony. I spoke up and said, “Listen, gentlemen, I know that it is not in my honor that you have come here, but to give honor to the Land of Israel, because this man is going up to the Land. May it be His will that you, too, will soon be privileged to go up to the Land. And do you know who will accompany you? Good angels, who stand and wait for you, will accompany you, for since the day the Holy Temple was destroyed and Israel was dispersed among the nations, the angels have been dispersed with them, and they stand and wait for the men of Israel, so that they, too, may return. And do you know who will bring you there? All the kings and princes of the earth; and, moreover, they will bring you on their shoulders as a gift to the King Messiah, as it is said: ‘Behold, I will lift up mine hand to the Gentiles, and set up my standard to the peoples; and they shall bring thy sons in their arms, and thy daughters shall be carried upon their shoulders. And kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and their queens thy nursing mothers; they shall bow down to thee with their faces toward the earth and lick up the dust of thy feet.’ And until we are privileged to see the longed-for day, may the Almighty grant you the blessing of life eternal, and may the Redeemer come to Zion speedily in our day. Amen!”