S. Agnon - Two Scholars Who Were in our Town and other Novellas

The whole time that this had been going on, the rabbi’s wife had been gazing upon her husband the rabbi and praying in her heart that the words of the dignitaries would have an impact on him. But the rabbi took no notice of his wife and apparently even the Holy One blessed be He did not heed her prayers. And when they had finished the meal and chanted the grace after meals, the rabbi arose from the table and said, “Sit for a while with my wife while I briefly visit my study.” When he had gone, the rabbi’s wife said, “Did you see him? He’s only forty seven and already he’s gone grey. All of his troubles come from nowhere else but the mother of that lad from the village. I heard the old woman involves herself with practitioners of witchcraft.” In the middle of this she heard her husband’s footsteps and stopped talking. The rabbi returned with a book in his hand as was his custom whenever he had visitors over, so that in case they rose in his honor, they rather would be standing in honor of the book in his hand. He looked and observed their despondency and the unhappiness on their faces. He smiled and said, “I had expected that my wife would bring you something hot to drink.” The rabbi’s wife got up and brought over tea with Assyrian apples, which we call lemons. The dignitaries sat and drank, and never again mentioned anything from all of those discussions.

34.

Now let us leave aside Reb Shlomo’s town and return to our town and dissipate a bit of the anguish of the conflict by recounting the virtue of the charitable souls of our town.

Prior to his death one of our town’s wealthy people allocated a specific sum for charity to go towards a perpetual fund to purchase houses, yards and fields and distribute annually on the anniversary of his death the revenue from the houses, etc., to the poor Jews of the town under the supervision of the town’s rabbi, to be managed by three trustees appointed by him during his lifetime, as they saw fit. However, in his will he set a precondition that the poor within his family would take precedence to other poor folk in benefiting from his bequest. The brother of the honorable deceased came accompanied by other relatives who did not reside in our town, demanding a significant portion from the perpetual fund. And a doubt arose as to whether the brother of the deceased had a right, inasmuch as he had not been poor at the time of the endowment. And further, as to how far to extend the priority of kinship. And the appointed trustees of the bequest were concerned about the commentary of our sages of blessed memory as follows: “The apportionment of charity to the poor of a town cannot be overseen by that town’s own authorities.” Therefore, as they were wont to do, they turned to the sage Reb Shlomo for a legal ruling.

Several weeks passed without an answer. And here the anniversary of the death of the benefactor was fast approaching. The poor relatives were expecting to get their share, and even the rest of the poor were pounding on the doors of the trustees. And the trustees were at a total loss as to what to do. And the days were days of winter, and the mail was unreliable due to the snows and the cold. And even the wagon masters, who are in the habit of endangering themselves even for small wages, went out very infrequently during that time, inasmuch as due to the heavy snows the roads were covered and the horses would get mired in the snow, unable to free themselves. At the end of several such days, a letter arrived from Reb Shlomo that he was going to attend his sister’s daughter’s wedding in some other town and since it so happened that the town was close to our town, he intended to drop in at our town and provide an oral ruling for the trustees of the bequest. The town abounded with joy and prepared itself to greet him. And here we must recount a wondrous event. There was an old man in town, who must have been about a hundred years old, for he was born the same year that the great sage Reb Pinchas (Reb Shlomo’s grandfather) had passed and he had been named after him. For a long while he had been wishing to die, because he was very old and terribly weakened by the burden of the years. And yet in those days he began to pray rather that he would live in order to behold the grandson of that pious one.

Meanwhile, Reb Shlomo Eliyah cleared a special room for his brother-in-law, the rabbi, and he ordered that the furnace be fixed. And when the furnace had been repaired, they would fire it up twice daily, even though many were doubtful whether the rabbi would come since the roads were impassable and every journey life threatening. The distinguished rabbi Reb Yehudah, father-in-law of my grandfather Reb Yehudah, said “I have no doubt that he will come. As it is not Reb Shlomo’s way to go back on his word.”

35.

One day, close to the time for the afternoon prayers, a winter carriage arrived in our town and on it a man dressed like one of the high officials, in an enormous winter fur cloak. The carriage rolled in and stopped by the store of Reb Shimon Eliyah. The store’s clerks jumped up and ran out to greet the carriage, and all the trade agents of the town surrounded it assuming that a high official was coming to procure merchandise. They had not realized that it was Reb Shlomo, a high official in Torah, which surpasses any merchandise. Reb Shimon Eliyah came out accompanied by his two sons, and with them the charity fund treasurer, and helped the rabbi alight from the carriage. The lady of the house, Reb Shimon Eliyah’s wife, overheard the commotion and ordered the servants to add logs to the furnace. They brought Reb Shlomo to the house, removed his heavy cloak and leather boots and sat him down in a soft chair, his feet facing the furnace, and they covered his knees with a fur mantle and observed him closely to see what else would suit him and what more they could do for him. He was spent from the hardship of the journey. And when the snow in his beard melted they realized that the snow was not melting, in other words that his hair had gone white, and not due to the passage of time but rather due to grief and suffering. And even though he was completely worn out, he sent for the trustees so as not to not delay justice to the poor. And meanwhile he instructed that his bags be opened and he took out a variety of sweets that he had brought from the wedding feast of his sister’s daughter. He gave some to his relatives, and to the servants and maids he gave first choice, and he asked them to eat them in front of him and said Amen after the blessings. After they had tasted them, he asked if they were good. He probably had a particular motive, since the bride had been orphaned from her father and her uncle the great sage was concerned that perhaps they had not bothered to prepare fine delicacies for her.

While this had been taking place, half the town had arrived to greet the rabbi and with them came the distinguished trustees. Due to the great number of guests, they were unable to get around to discussing the matter of the bequest. But the next day, immediately after the morning prayers before he even ate or drank, the rabbi sat down with the trustees until he had arrived at a true and just ruling. That is, to give half to the poor relatives and half to the poor townsfolk. As to the half for the poor of the town, equal shares would be distributed to all. But the half portion for the relatives would be divided giving priority to the closest kin, and the brother of the deceased, who was the closest of all, would be given a third of that half, the remaining two thirds to be divided without differentiating between those who resided here and those who resided elsewhere. In the presence of the distinguished trustees the rabbi wrote these things down in clear language and substantiated his reasoning on the basis of the Gemara and the great commentators. Since he wrote the response without books in front of him, he left blank spaces, which he circled until he would be able to check further and add citations. The ones who had the book published filled in some of the blanks.