The Origin of Sorrow (40 page)

With intense effort he let his breathing slow, he calmed his voice. “So this is what comes from allowing a philosopher into the lane.”

He reached for a chair and sat. He shook his head, rested his elbow on the desk, amid a small pile of coins. With his other hand he rubbed his forehead, trying to deny a headache. “I didn’t know you were so unhappy,” he said.

“I’m not so unhappy. I love you. I love being your wife. I love our children. But sometimes I need to do things separate from you. I read my history books, when I can squeeze in the time, when the children are asleep. But to save a boy from going to war — this in itself could be a little bit of history. It’s something I must do, to be true to Guttle Schnapper. More important, to be true to Guttle Rothschild.”

Meyer sat silently, his eyes closed. To Guttle it seemed as if hours passed. Perhaps it was only minutes. Meyer stood, took off the gray coat he still was wearing, draped it over his chair, as if he had just arrived home on a normal day. His voice was reserved when he spoke. “Where will he stay, till the danger passes? He can’t sleep crowded in with the wood.”

“I thought Rebecca might take him in.”

“She’s got Mendelssohn there. We can’t put the great man at risk.”

“Perhaps your brother Kalman can stay a few nights with a friend. Or at Rebecca’s. The boy could have his bed.”

“Have you asked Kalman?”

“I wouldn’t do that without speaking to you.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Meyer said, “I don’t suppose they’ll come looking for him here. Wilhelm has plenty of other peasants.” He took a deep breath, exhaled forcefully, as if trying to exhale the boy. “Give him one of my yarmulkes, just in case. And tell him to start growing a beard — if he can.”

“He’s got dark hair and eyes. If he wants to stay in the lane, maybe he could

really pass as my cousin.”

“Or as your long-lost sister. Did he make a handsome lass?”

She took his hand and kissed his knuckles, smiled inwardly in triumph, accepting his weak joke as his surrender. She offered peace with irony. ”I’m glad you agree with me.”

Meyer responded in kind; both understood intuitively that wry humor, as much as passion, was a substance of their love. “When do we not agree?” he said.

On the Sabbath they made him stay in the house. On Sunday, with the gates locked and a police raid unlikely, they tested him at their end of the lane, among the neighbors they knew well. “Guttle’s cousin, Georgi Pinsky, visiting from Wiesbaden. Katie’s boy.”

Of course, the neighbors said. Katie, who married into the Wiesbaden Pinskys. Nice to meet you, Georgi Pinsky (wink). From the very first there was the wink, directed at Meyer or Guttle or at the boy himself. Who did not remember Emmie Schnapper’s sister Katie — the one she never had mentioned, the one no one had ever seen? But there was a definite family resemblance. Avra’s nose merely had dropped to his chin. They knew, of course. Whether Izzy had told someone, or Avra, or if the butcher’s helper had overheard, Guttle could not say. Her guess was Izzy. How could he not boast to his brothers, or his Papa, of what he had found? And once his father Otto knew, the whole lane knew.

On Monday the young man walked freely in the lane, wearing Kalman’s clothes, a yarmulke on his head, a hint of stubble on his cheeks. In the north-end houses many people might refer to him as the Gentile, or the Runaway. But in the street he was Georgi Pinsky (wink.) Katie’s boy. As if it were all a good joke. They had no fear for themselves; they had done nothing. And the Crown Prince seemed far away.

Not all were so accepting, however. Otto Kracauer was not. Nor were Jacob Marcus, the moneylender, nor Alexandre Licht, the shoemaker, nor most of the south end. Guttle’s own mother was appalled at what she had done, though her father said nothing.

A torrent of angry gossip washed along the cobbles like summer rain stirring the dirt.

— Can you imagine such a thing? Who would bring a goy into the lane?

—Meshuganah Guttle Rothschild, of course.

33

The debate, held in the lecture hall of the yeshiva, attracted the largest crowd, outside of the synagogue, since the murder trial of Hersch Liebmann nearly six years earlier. Guttle, Meyer and their friends arrived early, and took up half of the third row. Guttle sat between Meyer and Yussel Kahn. Beside Yussel were Brendel and Doctor Kirsch. Beside Meyer were Dvorah, Doctor Berkov and Isidor. At the hospital, the aides on duty knew where to find the two doctors if there was an emergency. Throughout the lane, younger sisters were acting as baby sitters. Amelia, now thirteen years old, was watching Guttle’s children, along with the Gentile boy.

At the prescribed time of eight o’clock, every seat was filled, and people were standing without complaint at the sides and across the rear. Two lecterns had been placed at the front of the hall, two metres apart. Rabbi Simcha introduced the debaters. The Chief Rabbi was dressed in his constant black, the visitor in Berlin beige. Herr Mendelssohn would speak first on the subject for the evening, the future of the Jews, Rabbi Simcha said.

“Thank you, Rabbi,” Moses Mendelssohn began. “I am grateful for this opportunity to convey my views to the people of the Judengasse, many of whom I have met personally during the past few days. The throng in this hall is a fine testimony to the civic awareness in this lane.

“What, then, is the future of the Jews? How much of the answer depends on forces outside of our control, and how much depends on ourselves?

“The good news is that the forces out of our control are now running in our favor, like a river rushing downhill. The time in which we live is perhaps the first time we Jews can say that in seven hundred years — since the slayings of the first crusade inaugurated all these centuries of religious prejudice, of atrocities rooted in so-called faith.

“The time in which we live already is being called, by journalists and scholars, the Age of Enlightenment. There is a heavy irony in speaking such words here in the Judengasse, with its high walls, with its gates that are locked against us even as I speak. There is irony in saying those words anywhere in the City of Frankfurt, where the treatment of we Jews — of you forced to live in this ghetto — is the most restrictive and obscene in all of Europe, from the marital and legal restrictions to that despicable Judensau I saw as I entered the city. But the fact remains that enlightenment has been born in the world like a young lion — and it is moving in this direction.

“Now, what do I mean by enlightenment? It is, quite simply, the application of human reason to all things. The first important thing that reason shows us is that the treatment of men by their fellowmen down through the centuries has not been reasonable. There is no way to defend with reason why some men should be born Princes and others should be born slaves. There is no way to demonstrate with reason that one religion contains the whole truth about God, and is superior to all others.

“Modern science has shown us that the blood of nobles is no different than the blood of peasants. Yet all around us, the Princes, under their own laws, which benefit only themselves, own the very bodies and souls of their fellow men. Reason tells us that at heart, the essential message of all religions is that man should live a moral life, and treat his fellow men well. Yet we see nothing but war and hatred among Catholic, Lutheran, Muslim, Jew.

“These ideas are not new. They trace back at least as far as the British philosopher John Locke a century ago, who suggested that the true determinant of government should be the will of the majority — not the whim of a Prince or a King. Like an underground river, these enlightened ideas have been gaining strength ever since, aided by the writings of such men as the French philosopher Voltaire, and others. These writings have influenced the British colonists in America who are rebelling against their King. These ideas are the talk of Paris. They cannot but swamp the Holy Roman Empire before long. When they do, the gates of this lane will be unlocked forever.

“But what will happen then? Are you people of this crowded lane prepared for the new opportunities that will come?

“I am sorry to say that, from my observation, you are not. In your heders and in your fine yeshiva, the only things taught are the Pentateuch and the Talmud. The only language spoken besides Hebrew is the hybrid Judendeutch. But the Gentiles, at least in the learned classes, are teaching their children science and medicine, history, philosophy, languages such as Latin, Greek and French. I hope you will not take this wrong, but the fact is that many of you men of the Judengasse cannot speak or read pure German — the language of our country.

“I was going to save this talk for Berlin, but I think not. I propose here tonight that the time has come for nothing less than a Haskalah, a Jewish enlightenment.

“It is essential that our Jewish schools broaden their curricula, so that our children will be able to take advantage of a new equality when it arrives. Girls should be educated as well as boys — in separate schools if that is desired, but educated nonetheless. In an enlightened future there will be freedom to choose any profession, to live anywhere one desires. But this opportunity will be worthless if you are not prepared to use it, to throw off the shackles of the ghetto. Unless you are ready to act, the gates will remain locked, the walls will stand, life here will remain unchanged. The Gentiles will continue to view us as some curious, subhuman race.

“All of that is at stake in the coming years.”

Guttle sat enthralled, her mouth slightly open, her lower lip loose. In all the years of her yearning for the destruction of the walls, she never once had focused on what would follow. Mendelssohn was right, she thought. Without any walls the ghetto might still be a ghetto if the people let it remain so, if they were not prepared to live in the changing world.

She glanced at Meyer. He was listening intently, but she could not read his thoughts.

“I have more to say,” Mendelssohn concluded, “but I shall pause here, to drink some water, and to permit your learned Chief Rabbi to respond.”

Rabbi Eleazar sipped from his water glass, cleared his throat. Engrossed by Mendelssohn’s words, eager for their Rabbi’s rejoinder, most in the hall had ceased to notice a flickering of the lamps.

The Chief Rabbi’s voice was deep and confident as he began.

“I must beg to differ with our distinguished visitor, on almost everything he said.”

Pockets of laugher erupted in the audience. Even Mendelssohn smiled.

“The future of the Jewish nation is not an open question. It is all written down in this book — in the Pentateuch.” He held up the book for them to see. “So long as we adhere to Yahweh’s laws as set down in the five books of Moses, and to the teachings of this other book, the Talmud”— he held that up as well — “we Jews shall survive as a nation. I would point out that many nations of history are no longer with us — the Hittites, the Philistines, the Canaanites, and so forth. All have perished, along with their beliefs. The pagan gods of the Greeks and the Romans have perished. Yet we Jews have survived, despite all the attempts to destroy us, despite the destruction of our sacred temple, and the diaspora that followed.

“Why have we survived? Precisely because we did not try to be like the others, as Herr Mendelssohn would have us do. Precisely because we have preserved our separate identity. Precisely because we have followed Yahweh’s laws to the letter. Because when we do, He watches over us, no matter our earthly travail. The books of Moses do not instruct us to become scientists or philosophers, to learn Latin or Geek. They instruct us to retain our faith, and obey the laws that Yahweh has given to us. By doing so, we have survived for six thousand years. By doing so we shall continue to survive, until the Messiah comes.

“Let us take a look at the world Herr Mendelssohn is offering as a desirable future for the Jews. He wants us to move out of the ghetto, to live among the Gentiles as equals. He wants us to speak pure German, so our Hebrew accents will not distinguish us as Jews — as if we should be ashamed of the way we speak! What would be the logical next step? The logical next step is that our Jewish men would see nothing wrong with marrying Gentile girls. Our Jewish girls would happily — so they might think — marry Gentile men.

“Our visitor presents all this as a future to be desired — but what then would happen to the Jewish race? We would be absorbed into the larger population. We would throw onto the trash heap the sacred laws of the Sabbath, of circumcision, of kosher, and all the rest. In short, we would no longer be Jews. We would have violated our sacred covenant with Adonai — and who will watch over us then?”

Guttle felt Meyer’s hand on her knee, his breath on her cheek, as he leaned towards her. “It’s true,” he whispered.

“Many Gentile thinkers,” the Rabbi continued, “who agree with Herr Mendelssohn, have suggested publicly that because of his stated beliefs, he ought to convert to Christianity. Because, knowingly or not, that is the cause he serves.”

A tense intaking of breath swept parts of the audience.

“I would like to ask him to tell us why he has not done so.”

Mendelssohn grasped the lectern on both sides. As he leaned forward, from Guttle’s view his hump seemed to alternate dark and light as a lamp on the wall behind him flickered.

“Some of you in the audience gasped at the Rabbi’s question,” he said. “I assure you, it does not offend me. I relish the chance to explain my position.

“I am a Jew. I was born a Jew. My wife is a Jew. I shall be a Jew until I die. I believe in Yahweh, and in the books of Moses, and in the teachings of the Talmud. I do not believe that Jesus was the son of God, as a Christian must believe. I shall explain why. And I shall do so on the basis of reason, not of faith.

“Tomorrow morning, go to the south gate of your lane and look out. Look at the sun in the sky, and the clouds. Look at the river Main flowing by, and the fertile fields across the river, and the shapes of the distant mountains. Look at your wives, your children. Think of the miracle of birth. Think of the incredibly complex functioning of the human body, which we humans cannot begin to understand. Think of the birds and the fish, think of all the animals that you know to exist, even if you cannot see them through the walls. What do all these things tell us? Because they exist, they tell us they have been created. And what does our reason tell us about that? It tells us that because all these birds and elephants and humans have been created, there must have been an entity — an intelligence — a super intelligence — that created them. I say a super intelligence because surely no man, no amount of men, could have done so. We have not the intelligence nor the power. That super intelligence — that undeniable creator — is what we call God.

“I said that I believe in the books of Moses. Many so-called miracles are described in those books. If I believe only in reason, you might reasonably ask, how can I believe in such miracles — the ten plagues in Egypt, the parting of the Red Sea, the acquiring by Moses of the Commandments? I shall tell you how. Because almost every miracle described in the Pentateuch was witnessed by the entire Jewish nation — by tens of thousands of people who could tell the tale. Reason tells me that an event witnessed by so many people must have taken place. Who would believe in an eclipse of the sun, had it not been witnessed by millions?

“Where I take issue with my Gentile friends, in Berlin and elsewhere — and I have many of them, and I am glad that I do — is that I do not believe that Jesus was the son of God. My God-given reason does not let me believe that. Each of the so-called miracles attributed to Jesus, as described in the New Testament, was witnessed by only a handful of people — mostly by his few original followers. Even those followers did not declare him the son of God — not when he was alive. It was more than three centuries later before the Catholic church declared that Jesus was of divine origin — and even then there was much dispute. I tell my Christian friends that we Jews will gladly accept Jesus as a major Jewish teacher, an important prophet — but my reason finds no evidence that Jesus was the Messiah, that he was the son of God.

“That, my friends, is ample reason why I retain the faith of my fathers, and only their faith. I observe the Jewish holy days. I go to schul. I do not write on the Sabbath. I keep a kosher home. I am as much a Jew as anyone in this room. But these things have not prevented me from participating in the increasingly modern world. By living a moral life I have tried to show the Gentiles what we Jews truly are. We do not have to segregate ourselves in order to do that. Indeed, if we demonstrate to them up close that we are clean and moral beings, their prejudices against us, which are based on ignorance, might vanish.”

As the Rabbi began his rejoinder, Guttle saw that his neck had become thick with knotted tendons, as if an ancient, rough landscape were reasserting itself there.

“Our visitor — and I underline that word, visitor — just suggested that we have segregated ourselves. I would like him to tell me what Jew built these walls, or locked these gates. Or wants to be confined in such a way. Let him name one. Is there anyone in this room who enjoys being a prisoner of the Gentiles? Stand and show your face.”

Nobody stirred. Mendelssohn’s face flushed. Drops of perspiration glistened on the foreheads of both men, glowing in the lamplight, Guttle thought, like semiprecious gems. Like their words — or was one speaking pearls, the other, paste? She wasn’t sure.

“Jews did not physically build the walls or lock the gates, of course,” Mendelssohn said. “The Rabbi knows I did not mean to suggest that they did. We Jews are not responsible for the actions of those who oppress us — or are we, in fact, a little bit responsible?”

He paused to make sure he had their attention. Not a sound could be heard.

“We look at Catholics, Lutherans, Muslims. They are Gentiles. That is simple fact. That means simply that they are not Jews. So far, so good. But how do many of us refer to them among ourselves? We call them goyim. That has a demeaning sound. The word Gentile distinguishes us from them. But when we use the word goyim, we are placing them beneath us, we are holding them in contempt — just as, too often, they use the word Jew as if it carries within itself a negative adjective. Dirty Jew. Filthy Jew. Scurvy Jew. Damn Jew. By moving among them in modern life, as I suggested earlier, we will show them that we are not dirty, not filthy, that — though we may like our herring — we do not have scurvy, or any other disease. We would become their equals in science and philosophy and mathematics and literature — in all modes of learned human endeavor. But just as they must stop condemning us for being Jews, we most stop calling them goyim, and pretending we are superior.”

The Chief Rabbi smiled, and stroked his broad beard, as if he had a winning point to make. “You said you believe in the books of Moses. In those books we are given a special covenant from God. Do you believe that? Does it not make us superior?”

Many in the audience were nodding slightly as the visitor prepared to respond.

“I said before that I believe in the Pentateuch, and I do. I like to picture all of religion as a broad house. We Jews, and the Christians, and the Muslims, all believe in the same God. We all believe we are descended from Abraham. So we all live together in the first floor of this vast house of religion. The way we best serve this God, as I said before, is to live a moral life, and to help others. All religions teach this. But living a moral life does not depend on believing that a glass of wine is the blood of Jesus — or that women must cover their faces — or on not eating meat with milk. These separate practices should not turn us away from the laws of morality in which we all claim to believe. Reason tells us that.