A SIMCHAT TORAH STORY

A SIMCHAT TORAH STORY

The large synagogue is richly illuminated. Each electric light brings out the presence of an empty seat.

This is Simchat Torah Eve. Our forefathers for hundreds of years have rejoiced at being privileged to carry with them the Torah handed to Moses on Mt. Sinai.

Our people in the diaspora always celebrate Simchat Torah, after the prayers on Rosh Hashanah to be inscribed in the book of life and the day of Yom Kippur when we ask forgiveness for our transgressions.

This evening the seats are not occupied as in the days “when even a fish trembles in the waters” and not even as in the days of Succot.

Simon Wolff, who has made his living all these years as a customer peddler, sitting now facing east, at the right of the Ark, is chanting the prayer, “And let our eyes behold Thy return in mercy to Zion.” Abraham Bin, grocer of the neighborhood, sits at the left of the east wall. He is chanting the prayer, “Lead us with exultation into Zion, Thy city, and unto Jerusalem, the place of Thy sanctuary, with everlasting joy.”

Outside of Rabbi Merkin, spiritual leader of the congregation, Bin and Wolff and another half dozen are the only worshippers this evening—the only ones who have come to rejoice with the Torah.

High holidays

The shamash, Berrel Mink, standing on the bimah, tired from days of toil and labor through the high holidays, observes the small congregation with a melancholy eye. He thinks to himself, if only those who tried to get in without tickets during the high holidays would have come tonight!

Very shortly the Torah will be taken from the Ark and there are not enough men in the synagogue to call to the altar to divide the honors.

He remembers when the synagogue was filled to its capacity on Simchat Torah; when fathers with their children danced as our fathers have done for centuries before.

Very few fathers are here this evening, and still fewer children. Most of them have grown up and moved to others parts of the city. Some of them have joined temples and some conservative synagogues. The more considerate sons and daughters made pilgrimages to these old parents on the high holidays. They came here to please Pa and Ma.

CROSSROADS

He steps down from the bimah and manages to reach his seat. It occurs to him that this is Saturday evening… the best time of the week for business. He has prayed enough. That strange voice irritates him and he desires to be free of it.

A short time later we find Mr. Rubin once again before his beloved store, admiring the way his hats are displayed in the window.

Eight months before Ben Braskin, the owner of the Bon Ton Store, ladies’ ready-to-wTear, had married his Catholic secretary. The marriage did not cause much excitement among Braskin’s friends, because for years they had been coming in contact with Miss Catherine O’Brien while she was his “right hand’’ in the business; she remained in the business, so the only difference was that the cheerful and wfitty Miss O’Brien became the cheerful and witty Mrs. Braskin.

At first Braskin’s customers were a little bit cool to the new Mrs. Braskin, simply because she had become Mrs. Braskin, but soon she was back in their good graces. After all, the Jewish women who patronized the Bon Ton were not too Jewish-conscious; they did not belong to congregations or Jewish organizations. They were interested in cards and styles and the like, and since these interests were general, Catherine had something in common with them. When people have common interests they are not long kept apart.

She continued to attend early mass; this was something that belonged to her personal life. Ben was indifferent to religion, whether his own or someone else’s. When a friend commented on the fact that Mrs. Braskin attended early mass Ben chuckled and said, “It simply means that while your wife is still snoozing, mine is already communing with the angels.’’

But the marriage did give rise to a problem. Ben s widowed old mother had been opposed to it from the start and for a long time afterward she refused to see either her son or the new daughter-in-law. But Catherine never gave up hope for a reconciliation.

Traditional Simchat Torah

The scroll lies open on the altar and the shamash is calling upon the few to chant the prayers before he reads a portion of the Torah. Among them is Moses Rosen, who years ago had contributed large donations for such a great honor. As a matter of fact he donated a scroll to this synagogue in memory of his wife who departed years ago.

While walking up to the Torah he is mindful of the fact that this time the honor is being given him out of pity, and because there are so few present. For during the high holidays when so many honors and recognitions were distributed he was a forgotten man in the congre gation. When the shamash calls him, in the usual Simchat Torah mood, “youngster,” it reminds him that before the holy days he made application for admission to the Home for the Aged.

The one who creates the holiday atmosphere fitting the traditional Simchat Torah eve is Nathan Chavkin, a cloak operator, whose loyalty to a labor union does not minimize the love for his religion. When he is called to read a passage in Atta hareta he reads with happiness and exultation, Thy kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and thy dominion endureth throughout all generations.” His voice reaches the hearts of the others. Even the rabbi, who is deep in thought, raises his head and smiles.

Some coloring is added to the occasion when a few children of the neighborhood, holding American and Zionist flags, are brought in by their mothers.

The shamash invites them to participate in the hakafot when the elders carry the Torahs around the bimah.

The laughter and mirth of the children prompt the elders to sing the traditional melodies, known to all of them.

The spirit of Simchat Torah fades somewhat when the children leave the synagogue after the ceremony, and the scrolls are returned to the Ark.

Small congregation downstairs

The shamash invites the small congregation downstairs where schnapps and Lekach are awaiting them. Mike, the Irish janitor, is already there. Mike has been with the synagogue for a number of years. Outside of the janitor work he knows all about the congregation politics.

As a matter of fact, the president of the synagogue once had the unpleasant task of taking him out of jail on bail because he had a fight with the janitor of another congregation who dared to say that his rabbi was greater than Mike s. It is also known that Mike is more familiar with the calendar of Jewish holidays than some of the children of Israel.

Braskins seventieth birthday

The first meeting was not pleasant. The old lady turned her head away from her guests and no one said a word. Nonetheless, a few days later, on Mrs. Braskin’s seventieth birthday, Catherine sent her flowers with a card attached which read, “By coincidence today is also my Irish mother’s birthday…. I hope that both she and my Jewish mother will have many more happy occasions.” The old lady had never before received flowers as a birthday present; she was a little pleased.

Once, when Catherine spotted a dress among some new ones at the store which she thought would look particularly well on her mother-in-law, she took the dress to Mrs. Braskin as a gift. The old lady permitted Catherine to assist her into the garment with the air of one beginning to see a light where there had been only darkness before.

And then, as will happen frequently in the life of an old lady, Mrs. Braskin had one of her bad spells and took to bed for a number of weeks. Ben was out of town at the time on a prolonged buying tour, but Catherine visited her daily and gave her the care of a devoted daughter. One afternoon Mrs. Braskin looked at her daughter-in-law and, in a voice which indicated that she was sorry for her initial attitude, said, “Catherine… you have a good heart, and, after all, that is the important thing.” This one remark was, so to speak, the end of hostilities, and it made Catherine very happy. The same day she wrote to Ben about it.

Catherine learned through a chance remark

Catherine often reprimanded her husband because he was less faithful to his synagogue than she was to her church. His stock excuse was that he was too busy for such things. However, when Catherine learned through a chance remark made by a customer that the Jewish high holy days were approaching she told Ben very plainly that no further alibis would avail him. He would attend the synagogue during the forthcoming holidays and… by way of encouragement… she would join him. It was agreed.

From Mrs. Waldman, a neighbor, Catherine made it a point to learn what she could about the significance of the days. Mrs. Waldman told her what went on in Heaven on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. In Heaven it is written on Rosh Hashanah who shall live and who shall die; who shall prosper and who shall go hungry; who shall be washed away by water. These decisions are sealed on Yom Kippur; therefore, let each repent during the ten day interval so that his lot be improved.

Town on Rosh Hashanah

Catherine was much impressed by the spirit of the holidays and she anticipated them with eagerness. It was therefore a great disappointment to her when Ben found it impossible to be in town on Rosh Hashanah. But he promised faithfully that nothing would keep him from attending the Yom Kippur services, and he meant it, particularly because Catherine expressed a desire to sit next to his mother.

The day before Rosh Hashanah Ben visited his mother to pay his respects. Mrs. Braskin, reconciled to the fact that at least her boy had married a good woman, was overjoyed to learn that Catherine wanted to sit near her in the synagogue on Yom Kippur. “After all,” the old lady said with a sigh, “I have heard of many cases where women like Catherine have become good Jewesses. Who knows, maybe she too…”

The Kol Nidre evening made a strong impression on Catherine. The next afternoon she again took her seat alongside her mother-in-law. The other women, now tired and worn from fasting and prayer Ephesus daily tour, no longer paid any attention to Catherine, though at first she had been the center of attraction.

It was just at the hour when the Cantor began to chant Musaf. He had a rich voice and the melodies touched Catherine. As the voice sang the opening of the prayer, “O Lord, here lam…” she sensed the familiarity to the Gregorian chants of her own church.

Sins committed

Each time the women rose Catherine stood with them. She wished that she had been able to pray as they did, but of course she did not know Hebrew. Finally the congregation reached the A l Chet, the prayer where each person beats his breast and repeats aloud, “For the sins that I have committed…”

This Catherine did too. Mrs. Braskin noticed it and her heart was filled with joy… but she did not see that at the same time Catherine crossed herself….

Especially Lena Zelinsky

“Do you remember,” she adds, winking, “when you wouldn’t trust me with a half dozen herring and a pumpernickel?”

A taxi pulls up, and out steps another woman who has also moved to the richer neighborhood, Mrs. Kadansky.

Her appearance is a pleasant surprise for all, especially Lena Zelinsky, whose eyes and cheeks light up, adding to her natural beauty.

Mrs. Zelinsky’s “hallo” is drowned in the greetings showered on the newcomer, for Mrs. Kadansky is beloved by all, since wealth has left her unspoiled. She has retained the simplicity and modesty of the typical Jewish mother.

Mrs. Aronson breaks the silence following the thun-derous hellos.

“How are you, Mrs. Kadansky? A taxi? Where is your automobile? Have you seen my new car and my chauffeur?”

“My automobile,” explains Mrs. Kadansky, patiently, quietly, “will be here shortly. My son, Bennie, has a charity meeting and he must collect contributions. Yes, thank God, my son gives me great happiness; he is very nice, considering the present generation. Always telling me he will marry a poor girl.”

The two Zelinsky girls glance shyly at each other.

“Should I live so, how right your Bennie is,” exclaims Mrs. Sarah Gurevitz, who has lived all these years next to the store. She has come in, not to buy, but to use the store as a place to meet her old friends to whom fate has been so much kinder than to her.

A large limousine stops in front of the store, and a young man steps out.

As he enters the store he is greeted proudly by Mrs. Kadansky who says, modestly, “This is my son, Bennie.”

He greets everyone pleasantly.

When he approaches the eldest Zelinsky girl, he speaks, to the amazement of all, as though he has known her for some time.

“Tell me, Bennie,” inquires his mother, “how do you know Lena?”

“Well,” he explains, “when we had our charity drive Miss Zelinsky was one of those who volunteered to do clerical work in the office. Since then we have been friends.”

Package of matzah

Lena is wrapping a package of matzah. Her hands are trembling, as though she is very nervous.

A significant, puzzled silence prevails.

Bennie, with dignity and outstretched hand, steps up to Mr. Zelinsky, whose face expresses boundless joy and understanding.

In a voice ringing with laughter, he exclaims, “Mr. Zelinsky, will you and your wife give your blessings if Lena becomes my Passover queen?”

Prominent Jew

She was the daughter of a well-to-do, prominent Jew, while he was the son of a humble shoemaker of honorable extraction. Since Moses was of no distinction, her parents were not willing to accept him as their soninlaw.

Ever present in his mind was that memorable evening when the soft melodies of Yossel, the fiddler, filled the little town and re-echoed in the adjoining woodland, informing him that his Deborah was being led to the canopy with another man, the choice of her parents.

That night was for him one of lament and sore weeping, like that of a pious Jew on the ninth of Ab, for the destruction of the Temple.

His parents could share his grief, in that they knew their poverty was to blame for their child’s ill-fate.

The great expanse of ocean that dried up the tears of many of the suffering newcomers to this land, somewhat relieved his own troubles also. He married, raised a family, and shared his portion of prosperity for quite a few years, until he lost his wife and his wealth and finally found his rest in this Home for the Aged. Here, free from worldly matters, he gave himself up to God’s Torah with a peaceful mind, until the day following Purim, when Deborah arrived.

“Ma nishtanah?” asks one of the old folks, in a resounding voice. This old man has been elected by all inmates to act as the child.

Moses Lubin

Moses Lubin directs his gaze to the old “child” who has asked the age-old questions, and there he notes beside the old man his old love, Deborah. She seems like a vision before him.

“Ma nishtanah?” the second question peals forth.

Moses sees little change in Deborah. Her face is round and has a bit of color, and her wrinkles seem not to show in the light of the candles. The white shawl folded about her head makes her appear like Deborah, the prophetess.

“Ma nishtanah?” comes the third question.

Lubin’s heart grows warm and his spirits revive, for Deborah has raised her eyes from the Haggadah, and as with the glow of two bright stars they gleam on him.

HOLIDAY SEATS

Young couples are rowing on the placid waters which have been artificially pumped into the lagoon. Songs and laughter echo and re-echo over the park. Little children, watched over by their mothers, dip their bare feet in the lagoon. Elderly Jews promenade the lanes of the park and carry on discussions in leisurely Sabbath fashion.

The two of them occupy a bench by themselves. He was this year left a widower; she is a widow. Both of them have been reduced to the status of lodgers with sons-in- law and daughters-in-law.

He has carried his head on his shoulders for approxi-mately sixty years, but he still feels that he has much yet to derive from life if only he can free his heart of a longing for something to chase away his loneliness.

Her eyes are turned toward the boats in which young couples are merrily rowing about, poignantly reminding her of the golden days when she herself was young.

As she turns about and their eyes meet, he greets her with “Good Shabbas.” And they move closer to each other.

“The air in the park is delightful,” he remarks in a friendly tone.

“For the living the sun shines everywhere,” she sighs, “but there in the grave it is dark…”

“You’re right,” he offers by way of consolation, “but concerning God’s actions (forbid the thought) one must not ask questions. Everything is from Him.”

“There are many men older than my husband was,” she says mournfully. “Why did God have to take away my faithful husband, I do not understand.”

“Aha,” he responds with a musical intonation, “did we understand His ways and His conduct, everything would be altogether different!”

And then with eagerness he asks, “Where are you going this year for the high holy day services?”

Bitterness of my heart

“Last year at this time my husband, alav hashalom, al-ready had tickets for the synagogue of his old townsmen. This year I don’t know myself in which synagogue I will pour out the bitterness of my heart. My children—some of them go to the synagogue, some of them don’t—where I will go doesn’t matter to them.”

She bursts into tears.

Pharaoh in the land of Egypt

The fourth question being duly asked, the whole assemblage with one voice responds.

“Slaves were we unto Pharaoh in the land of Egypt, and the Eternal One brought us forth from thence with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.”

Never ere this time has Lubin lifted up his voice so loudly. The old folks look at him with astonishment. Yet he cares not, for he knows that Deborah has understood him well; her lips are moving as if with the refrain.

His quiet disposition and genial character have never called for special recognition from his fellow inmates in the synagogue.

It is quite an incident and one of the happiest moments of his life when he is called upon to fill the cup of wine and asked to chant the prayer before Elijah’s entrance…. With the manner of a child he fills the cup and recites the words.

“We therefore are in duty bound to thank, praise, adore, glorify, extol, honor, bless, exalt and reverence Him, Who wrought all these wonders, for our ancestors and for us. He brought us forth from bondage unto freedom, from sorrow into joy, from mourning unto festivity, from darkness unto light, and from servitude unto redemption. Therefore let us chant unto Him a new song, Hallelujah!”

All respond, “Hallelujah.”

The Passover dishes, so palatable and Yiddishlich, are relished by all. The clatter of forks and knives blends with the cough of one for whom the wine is a bit too strong. Of all, Lubin alone seems to pause at his meal, but does not note that from a far off nook Deborah gazes at him, and likewise seems to have no desire for food.

“Mr. Lubin,” remarks one of his neighbors, “why don’t you taste one of those delicious kneidlach? They melt in the mouth.”

“His recitation really entitles him to two kneidlach,” another laughingly suggests.

When all file out of the dining room, some weary with age, others with too much food, Moses remains at the door.

Greeting to Deborah

“A happy seder night we have had,” he says as a sort of goodby greeting to Deborah as she passes.

“Your reading was excellent,” she remarks as she goes on with the other women. He follows her with his eyes, until he loses sight of her in the far end of the corridor, where her room is located.

Deep sighs are heard from Lubin’s room, while one of his neighbors remarks, “I bet Lubin has eaten too many kneidlach and hasn’t the sense to take bitter salts.”

But if his neighbor had only placed his ear close to Lubin’s door, he would have heard him murmur the immortal love verses of the “Song of Songs.”

A PASSOVER QUEEN

It is one week before Passover.

Zelinsky’s grocery store is crowded with holiday cus-tomers. This year Zelinsky’s second daughter, Mary, has stepped into the role of a saleslady. The eldest daughter, Lena, and brother, Sam, are in the store for the second year.

The customers are composed mostly of those who have lived in the neighborhood for years, but in the process of Americanization have moved to all parts of the city, their presence today being due to the necessities of the Pesach seder. Others are here because Zelinsky sells only kosher merchandise, abiding by the ritual for Yom Tov. Still others are here through sentiment, memories of bygone days when Zelinsky’s was the center of their immigrant conversations.

The last group comprises those who are present solely to display their new automobiles, to prove their recovery from the depression.

Mrs. Zelinsky shows the hardships of many years, working from opening at six in the morning until closing, late at night. Even when she feels that she can no longer keep Sofia guided tours her heavy eyes open she makes herself appear young to all. She is friendly, with a hearty greeting for everyone.

“Thank God, we have lived to see another Pesach!”

Mr. Zelinsky is, as always, playing the part of chairman of the reception committee.

“Hallo. How’s your husband? And your son? By this time he must be a real captain. And your daughter ready to join the Wacs.”

For those without children:

“By golly, you look as young today as when you were married!”

Mr. Zelinsky feels that by alertly greeting his customers he is doing his part, even though he does not share in the actual selling or packing. After all, why did he raise a family?

And this year yet another child is lending a willing hand to help.

While the rest are busily engaged, Mr. Zelinsky can be heard.

“Hallo, hallo, hallo!”

In all fairness to him, if there were no one to receive his greetings, possibly he would help his wife take packages down from above, particularly the matzah and noodles on the top shelf.

Mrs. Aronson

But he must listen to the trials and tribulations of Mrs. Aronson, and how difficult it is to get her chauffeur a uniform.

As in the past, Mrs. Aronson is buying all her Pesach goods from her old friend.

“Believe me,” she says importantly, “my husband was not fool enough to lose his head like the rest. With God’s will, he was connected with bond committees of real estate, and so we have no kick coming…. And why not? Who should know better than you, Zelinsky, of the hard life, the struggles we went through when we lived next door to you?