S. Agnon - The Parable and Its Lesson - A Novella

Our Master added, “The people you saw are not new arrivals. Among them are scholars who have been sitting there for generations, some from before the expulsion from Spain, some even from the time of the Talmud. Happy is he whose transgression is forgiven. But there is one sin about which the Holy One, blessed be He, is very particular, and that is talking during the service and the Torah reading. God Himself is truly compassionate and gracious and forgives iniquity, but the angels created by transgressions are an unforgiving lot. Happy is he who does not talk while praying. His prayer ascends to the Gates of Mercy and becomes a crown for his Creator.”

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Our Master’s words disturbed me more than anything my eyes had seen. I knew that talking during prayers and Torah reading is a serious offence, but I had no idea how serious.

I was mortified. Who can say that he has never committed that sin? Who among us keeps his lips and tongue under control at all times? Who has not talked during the service or the Torah reading? And if those learned in Torah bear such a punishment, what about the rest of us? Even if the ḥidushim that scholars come up with do not always spring from the purest motives, there is still a scintilla of sincerity behind them. May you good people of Buczacz never know the dread I was feeling.

Adding to my anxiety was my astonishment at the duration of the punishment. Can that be the penalty for talking during the service or Torah reading? Even if one could explain it as the consequence of the bother the angels had to go to in separating true prayers from idle talk, the matter still remains unsettled and unsettling.

A verse in the Torah occurred to me: The sword shall not cross through your land . I interpreted the sword to refer to metaphysical speculation, and the verse to be saying that as it passes through your mind it will not only not undermine your faith, it could even strengthen it. In my heart I recited the verse I am racked with grief, sustain me in accordance with Your word . Our Master looked at me and whispered, “It is time to go back.” My heart broke within me and I followed him.

Here the shamash suddenly stopped to survey the room. After he took in with one glance a group of scholars, his eye caught sight of some others who were not learned but who had a voice in civic affairs. While he was still looking around he continued:

Now listen to me all you people of Buczacz. You think that Gehinnom is only for Torah scholars. Well, let me tell you otherwise. There is one area there compared to which all the rest of Gehinnom is like Gan Eden. I never noticed it at first because it was covered in dust. But the voices that could be heard through the dust suggested that there were people there. I could not tell if they were people or cattle or fowl until I went in and saw that it was one huge market fair, like the ones our great-grandparents and those who came before them used to tell about, before Khmelnitski, may his name be blotted out. There were traders, dealers, noblemen and noblewomen, goods galore — like you’ve never seen before. Silver and gold and all kinds of expensive things. Then suddenly the whole fair was thrown into a panic. The Tatars had arrived. They came on swift horses in rumbling hordes. My body trembles even now as I recall it. I will stop talking about it and go back to where I left off.

So our Master was looking at me and said, “We have to go.” My heart broke within me, but I followed him.

The earth was drenched in dew and the firmament moist with the perspiration generated by the stars in their efforts to illumine the world. The whole way along, our Master said not one word. Was he ruminating about Aaron’s death, or about liberating the young agunah from her bonds? Who am I to say? Once or twice our Master looked up at the heavens and I could hear him whisper, “The stars are bunched together like a brood of chicks under a hen.” Truthfully, I have no idea if he really said that or if I just thought he did. Because on the eve of Yom Kippur, at first light, when I went into the chicken coop to get the atonement chickens for my wife and me, may she rest in peace, I saw chicks roosting under the mother hen and I was reminded of a line in the Book of the Angel Razi’el, “many stars are clustered together like chicks under a hen.” And so when I saw our Master look upward and whisper, those words came to me. By the time the sun rose, we were back in the courtyard of the synagogue.

Our Master kissed the mezuzah and then placed his walking stick in the courtyard behind the door and the mezuzah. I really should have taken it from him, but our Master never let anyone help him with his walking stick. After all, when Samson was blind he never asked anyone to get his staff for him in all his twenty-two years of judging Israel, and the Sages praised him for that. Our Master always took his stick and put it back by himself. But whenever he went to the sink to wash his hands, I would go and place it right near him so he would not have to bend down to get it.

He washed his hands, dried them and with his customary humility recited the Torah blessings in his sweet voice. I am not among those who claim to know what goes on in Heaven, but I am reasonably sure that when our Master said those blessings, each one was answered with an “Amen” from on high.

When he was seated in his usual place, I went over to him to ask him who should lead the morning service. In his day no one ever approached the lectern to lead unless our Master himself gave him permission to do so. He asked whether there was anyone present who had an obligation to lead, such as a man observing yahrzeit. Before I could answer he told me to go up.

I put on my talit and tefillin and went up to the Ark. I am an old man and I do not like to exaggerate, but I can tell you that I felt as if my feet were standing on the roof of Gehinnom and that this was the very last prayer that I would be allowed to utter. Miracle of miracles, I was still alive when the service ended.

That day I went to a scribe to have him check my tefillin to see if perhaps some letter on the parchment inside had faded. The fear and anxiety I had felt during the trip made me perspire so profusely that it was possible that the parchment had been affected. Praise be the One who crowns Israel in glory, not a single letter was spoiled.

When the service was over I brought the talmudic tractate Yevamot to our Master. He looked at me and said, “Sukkot is approaching. In honor of this festival of our joy, let us delight ourselves with tractate Sukkah.” I went and got it for him and remained standing there. If he needed me he would see that I was at his disposal. He acknowledged this with a nod and told me to return home.

On the way I began to have doubts about whether the things I had seen were real or a dream. If I were to go by our Master’s behavior, it may very well have been a dream, because normally he would have the talmudic tractate Yevamot on his desk, and here he was looking at tractate Sukkah. Furthermore, if that was truly Gehinnom that I saw, there were no flames. And even if you say that the judgment of wicked in Gehinnom lasts for twelve months, it is known that the fires of Gehinnom never go out. I also saw nothing of the snow in which the wicked are frozen. The pain is supposed to be worse than the heat of the sun.

At home I found no rest. I was worried that my wife would ask me where I had been all night. But she did not, presuming I had been in bed the whole night. Her illness had gotten worse, and she had lost the power of speech. If it had not been for the power of intuition, I would not have known when to feed her and take care of her.

14

My doubts intensified about whether I was awake when I saw those visions. When I returned to the beit midrash, I had the distinct impression that I had seen a number of the bluebloods of the congregation the previous night in all three compartments of Gehinnom. I knew it was not them I had seen but their fathers and grandfathers. Sons usually resemble their fathers or their grandfathers, and I had known all of them. My confusion distracted me from my prayers, and I knew it was my punishment for presuming that such decent people could be in Gehinnom.