S. Agnon - A Book that Was Lost

And if you should say, “But do we not find that some of our early sages composed a portion of their books in Arabic?” the early sages are different, because the people of their generations were made weary by exile and were far from Messiah’s light. Therefore their sages wrote them letters of consolation in their own language, the same way you pacify a child in whatever language he understands. The language of Ishmael is also different, since the Land of Israel has been given over into their hands. Why was the Land of Israel entrusted to Ishmael? Because he had managed to wrest it from the hands of Edom. It remains entrusted to Ishmael until all the exiles are gathered and God returns it to their hands.

3. The secret of writing stories

For love of our language and affection for the holy, I darken my countenance with constant study of Torah and starve myself over the words of our sages. These I store up in my belly so that they together will be present to my lips. If the Temple were still standing, I would be up there on the platform among my singing brothers, reciting each day the song that the Levites sang in the Temple. But since the Temple remains destroyed and we have no priests at service or Levites at song, instead I study Torah, the Prophets and the Writings, Mishnah, laws and legends, supplementary treatises and fine points of Torah and the works of the scribes. When I look at their words and see that of all the delights we possessed in ancient times there remains only this memory, my heart fills up with grief. That grief makes my heart tremble, and it is out of that trembling that I write stories, like one exiled from his father’s palace who makes himself a little hut and sits there telling of the glory of his father’s house.

4. All that happened to the author because of a certain grammarian and all the suffering and woe that came upon the author

Since I just mentioned a hut, let me say something about one. It once happened that I had written a story about a sukkah, a festival hut. Using colloquial language, I wrote, “The sukkah smells.” A certain grammarian rose up against me, stuck his pen into me, and wrote, “You cannot say: ‘The sukkah smells.’ Only a person smells the aroma of the sukkah.” I was worried that perhaps I had strayed from proper usage and done harm to the beauty of the language. I went and looked in reference books but found no support for my usage. Most of the books either tell you what you already know or else tell you nothing at all. I went to the scholars of our time, and they did not know what to answer me. Scholars know everything except that particular thing you are looking for. Then I happened upon a certain Jerusalem scholar, and he brought support for my words from the book called Perfect Treatise by an early sage named Moses Taku, of blessed memory. I was somewhat consoled, but not completely. I still wanted further support. When I ran into people who were experts in the holy tongue, I would ask them, “Perhaps you have heard whether it is permitted to write: ‘The sukkah smells.’” Some permitted while others forbade. Neither gave any reasons for their opinions, but just stated them, like a person who sticks his thumb out at someone and says, “Well that’s my view,” or someone who licks his lips and says, “That’s my feeling.” That being the case, I went to erase those two words against which the grammarian had raised a protest. But when I started to do so, the sukkah came and its aroma rose up before me until I really saw that it was smelling. I left the words as they were.

5. The righteous from paradise come to the author’s aid

Once somebody came to ask me a favor. In the course of the conversation he revealed to me that he was a descendant of Rabbi Jacob of Lissa. I put aside all my other concerns and did him great honor. I took the trouble to offer him some honey cake and a glass of whiskey. I fulfilled his request gladly, out of respect for his learned ancestor whose Torah we study and out of whose prayer book we pray.

After I’d accompanied him on his way, I ran into a certain scholar who was carrying a book under his arm. I asked him, “What’s that you’ve got there? Isn’t that the prayer book of the Sage of Lissa?” He smiled and said to me, “Sometimes you get so clever that you forget a simple custom of prayer and you have to look it up in a prayer book.” I said to him, “It shows a special quality of that true sage, one who had already written novellae and commentaries known for both sharp insight and breadth of learning, that he would take the trouble to briefly lay out the laws of prayer and other matters in such an accessible way. His is a book that anyone can use to find the law and its sources, written right there with the prayers themselves. Our holy rabbis have left us lots of prayer books, filled with directions and commentaries both hidden and revealed, with matters grammatical or sagacious, with permutations of letters, secrets, and allegories, all to arouse the hearts of worshippers as they enter the King’s palace. But if not for my respect for our early teachers, I would say that the prayer book of the Sage of Lissa is better than them all. In many of those prayer books the light is so bright that most people can’t use them, while this one appeals to any eye.”

While I was talking, my own heart was aroused and I started to tell of some things that happened to that sage whose teachings had spread throughout the scattered communities of Jews, who in turn followed his rulings. I told of some of his good qualities, things I had heard from reliable sources and had found in books.

Finally we parted from one another, he with his prayer book and I with my thoughts. I went home and lay down on my bed to sleep a sweet sleep. Since I had done a Jew a favor and had gone to bed after telling tales of the righteous, my sleep was a good one.

I heard someone trying to awaken me. I was feeling lazy and I didn’t get up. On the second try I awoke, and I saw an old man standing before me. The prayer book Way of Life lay open in his hand; his eyes shone and his face bore a special radiance. Even though I had never seen a picture of Rabbi Jacob of Lissa, I recognized him right off. It wasn’t that he looked like any of the members of his family. The great among Israel just don’t look like their relatives, because their Torah gives their faces a special glow.

When a person darkens his face over study of Torah, the blessed Holy One gives him that radiant glow and makes his face shine.

While I was still staring, the prayer book closed, the old man disappeared, and I realized it had been a dream. But even though I knew that, I said: There must be something to this. I washed my hands, got out of bed, and walked over to the bookcase. I picked up the prayer book Way of Life . In it I noticed a slip of paper serving as some sort of marker. I opened up to that place and there I read: “One uses lots of flowers that smell sweet to make the holiday joyous.” It seemed that I had once been reading that page and had put the slip of paper there as a marker.

I thought to myself: He wouldn’t have used such language on his own, without some authority in Torah. In any case, I took the prayer book Pillars of Heaven , by his uncle the sage Javetz, of blessed memory, and there I found the same expression. I was glad that I hadn’t failed in my words and had done no harm to our holy tongue. If these two great pillars of the universe wrote this way, it must indeed be proper. The grammarian who had shot off his mouth at me would one day have to pay his due.

6. Reciting psalms

How Rashi, of blessed memory, interprets for the author a verse from the Psalms and lights up his spirit

It was hardly worth going back to bed, since most of the night had passed, but it wasn’t yet time for morning prayers. I got up and took a Book of Psalms. Reciting psalms is good anytime, but especially early in the morning when the soul is still pure and the lips are not yet defiled by wicked chatter. I sat and read a few psalms; some I understood on my own, and the rest were explained to me by Rashi, of blessed memory, until I’d completed the first book of the Psalter. My soul still wanted to say more. I did its bidding and read psalm after psalm, until I got to the Psalm for the Chief Musician upon Lilies. This is a song in praise of the sages’ disciples, those who are soft as lilies and pleasant as lilies, so that they come to love their learning.