S. Agnon - A Book that Was Lost

I went to a shopkeeper who was one of the Zionists in our town and bought strong paper and brand-new twine. I didn’t tell him what the paper and twine were for, lest he should think that I wanted a discount. God knows he didn’t run his shop for charity.

After I had bought the paper and twine I went home and took the manuscript and looked it over once or twice, wrapped it in the paper, and bound the twine around it. Then I sat down and wrote on the paper the name of the curator of the Ginzei Yosef Library and the designation Jerusalem. This time the word Jerusalem was not written in vain. I added the name of the country, Palestine, and not the Land of Israel, in memory of the destruction of the Temple.

I surveyed the parcel and found it fair enough to send up to Jerusalem. I took it and went to the post office.

There are things you do out of love but nevertheless you do not hasten to complete them. So it was with Rabbi Shmaria’s book. I was like a child holding fast to a paper kite; although the kite was made to fly on high, nevertheless the child holds on to it and doesn’t let it go. Why? Because as long as it stays in his hand, it belongs to him, but when he lets it fly, it disappears high up in the sky and he is left empty-handed. I knew that I had made up the parcel in order to send it up to Jerusalem, but for as long as it was in my hand, it bound me to Jerusalem. But if I let the parcel out of my hands it would go up to Jerusalem while I stayed in Buczacz. But my legs led me of their own accord to the post office.

I entered the post office and stood among the errand boys of the Buczacz merchants who send their goods to places all over the world, and although I was the only person in the whole town who was then about to send something up to Jerusalem, I was in no hurry and kept standing where I stood until the room was empty of all those who had come, and still I stayed where I was standing.

The clerk saw me and said, “And what have you brought?”

I raised my parcel from where I was standing. He beckoned me to approach and I did.

He took the parcel and looked kindly at me, for Jerusalem is still near to everyone’s heart, even if he is a clerk. He even gave me a receipt with “Jerusalem” written on it.

Upon returning home from the post office I resumed doing the things I used to do, such as a little Zionist activity, and a little of all those other things done by most Jewish boys of that generation who were still dependent on their fathers. In addition to those, I composed poems about Zion and Jerusalem.

I can’t tell whether the poems of Zion and Jerusalem brought me to Jerusalem or whether it was my longing for Zion and Jerusalem that brought me to compose poems about them. Either way, it was my good fortune to go and settle in the Land of Israel.

I spent a year in Jaffa before I settled in Jerusalem. In my own way I was persuaded that I was to be tested to see whether I was satisfied with Jaffa, so I was delayed there for a year until I went up to Jerusalem. Don’t be surprised to hear me say so, as if I consider myself worthy of being tested. But as every man who does not live in the Land of Israel is put to the test to see whether he is worthy of settling in the Land of Israel, so every man in the Land of Israel is put to the test to see whether he is worthy of settling in Jerusalem. And so after staying a year in Jaffa and its suburbs, I took my staff and my knapsack and went up to Jerusalem.

On the eve of Shabbat Hazon (the Sabbath before the Ninth of Av) before sundown I entered the gates of Jerusalem. If God be with me I shall tell what happened at the time I was fortunate enough to come to Jerusalem. For now I shall relate what happened to the book.

And so on the Sabbath eve before sundown I came to Jerusalem. I laid down my staff and my knapsack, washed myself of the dust of the road, and put on my Sabbath clothes and ran to the Western Wall. From there to the Hurvah Synagogue, from there to other synagogues, from there to the hostel, and to the streets of Jerusalem which were lit up quite clearly. Though Jerusalem was desolate, the moon, by the grace of God, had not ceased to shine upon it.

After the Ninth of Av my friends in Jerusalem took me to some places for which Jerusalem is commended. In the end they brought me to the Ginzei Yosef Library, which in those days we believed was the depository for all the books of Jewry. How strong was our faith in those days!

On the way to the library I told my friends about Rabbi Shmaria’s book which I had sent so many years ago to Ginzei Yosef in Jerusalem.

I was reminded of Buczacz and began telling about her. Perhaps I said too much and aroused their annoyance, because in those days which we now call the Second Aliyah every newcomer to the Land of Israel tried to forget his place of origin, and if he couldn’t, he endeavored not to mention it, for a new focal point requires a new frame of mind.

One of my friends laughed at me and said, “Even before you came to the Land of Israel you had already made your mark in Jerusalem.”

We went into the library and one of the two librarians who were there was kind enough to show us various books, and of each book he said, “It’s the only one in the world, unique, a gift from so-and-so.” And more than anyone else he praised Dr. Joseph Chasanowitsch of Bialystok, who denied himself bread for the sake of amassing a store of books in Jerusalem.

We looked at the books, everyone in his own way and everyone trying to say a word in expression of his feelings.

When we were about to leave I said to the librarian, “I too sent a book to Jerusalem.”

The librarian asked me for the name of the book. I told him, “It doesn’t have a name, but its description is just so, and in such-and-such a year I sent it, addressed to the man in charge by the name of So-and-so I sent it.” There I stood, telling what I knew, without distinguishing between what was relevant and what was not. Had it not been for my friends who wanted to see other things in town, I would have put before the librarian some of the novellae of Rabbi Shmaria. Those were the days when I still had such a formidable memory and librarians were so keen to hear something of the wisdom of the law.

“I will go and see where the book is,” said the librarian. He went from room to room and from cupboard to cupboard. After he had investigated all the cupboards, he said, “I have searched for it but have not found it. If your book has reached us, I will find it. It may be lying among the books that haven’t been given out for binding. Due to lack of funds, piles and piles of books are lying around that still haven’t been given out for binding. All the same, I will look for it and if I find it I will show it to you.”

Gratefully I took my leave of the librarian. His eyes testified to his good heart that was ready to oblige.

Many times did I go to the library and many times did I speak to the librarian. When I didn’t mention Rabbi Shmaria’s book, the librarian would, and he would say, “I still haven’t found it, but if not today, then tomorrow.”

So the years passed. That librarian went the way of all flesh and the librarian who succeeded him has also passed on, but the book was not found.

What a pity the book was lost.

Those were good days. I remained secluded in my house, writing the adventures of Rabbi Adam Baal Shem. This wise sage knew the Kabbalah in both theory and practice. He could recognize ghosts and demons as they set out upon their ways. He would throw a shawl over their eyes so that they could not see to do any harm. He was an expert on trees and could tell which ones grew by God’s grace and which ones were formed from the bodies of sorcerers in order to trick people. These he would cut down, limb by limb. Thus he saved many of Israel from the depths of evil and restored them to their own root. All this Rabbi Adam did only by the word, for he possessed holy writings of an esoteric sort. And when the time came for Rabbi Adam to depart from this world, he hid the writings in a rock, upon which he cast a spell that it not open itself, so that no unfit person could study those writings and turn the world back to chaos and confusion.