Levi Isaac walked from one to the other, asked this one: Did you eat, did you drink, and before he could answer, Levi Isaac shouted out, Zhelde Zhlate, Zhelde Zhlate, give Father of Hair something to eat, Zhelde Zhlate, did Ladybug drink milk? Father of Shirts, did you take your medicine? Be’er Yakovite, have you made peace with the Georgians? And as for those he didn’t find anything
to say to, he just looked at them, as if to say, Even though I’m busy, I haven’t forgotten you. Comrade Gordon, comrade Gordon, where is Gordon? Gordon went to Aronovitch. That day, Aronovitch received a package of books from Outside the Land, including books of Bible criticism, and Gordon was eager to see them, and so he went off quietly, so they wouldn’t keep him.
Brenner stood up and said,
Kinderlakh, m’darf geyn aheym,
children, we’ve got to go home. Where is Hemdat? Hemdat had already left an hour earlier. Said Shammai, Gang, let’s go to Hemdat’s, I promise you we’ll find a drop of wine at his place. Said Sonya, I heard that full bottles of wine are standing in his room in rows all along the wall. Isaac, isn’t Hemdat from your hometown? Said Isaac, I met him here through you. Said Sonya, You see, Isaac, all good things come from me.
Sonya and Yarkoni and Yael Hayyot and Shammai and Isaac, too, slipped out of the hotel and were about to go. Pnina came and joined them and Gorishkin dragged along behind her. When they came to the Hill of Love, they parted from the group and stayed there.
In Hemdat’s Garret
I
Hemdat lived in his garret at the edge of Neve Tsedek at the edge of Jaffa. You go there from Neve Shalom through the houses of Zerakh Barnett until you get to the old school for girls. When you get there, you see some houses burgeoning out of the sand, including the ChaBaD study house on the right and the house of Rabbi Kook on the left. You walk between heaps of sand until you come to the new school for girls. When you get there, you see a row of small houses of the Akhva quarter. You turn right and you turn left. There you see a small house with a kind of garret on top, half of it floats on the house and half seems to flutter in the air. You enter the courtyard and go up to the garret, that’s Hemdat’s garret.
Our comrades in the Land of Israel call every roofed space a room. If its walls aren’t split, they call it a fine room. But Hemdat’s room is a room and in fact it is fine. He lives there all by himself, and it has five windows. In one window you see the big sea that has no end, and in another window you see the green citrus groves that have no measure, and in another window you see the valley where the train passes, and in another window you see the desert where Tel Aviv was built later on, and one window faces Neve Tsedek. And just as the room is fine outside, so it is fine inside. Its ceiling is made of boards, and its walls are painted green, and green curtains hang on the windows, and when a wind blows, the curtains wave like a fan. Real furnishings are there, a table and a chair and a sofa and a lamp and a kerosene stove, and a kettle and cups. A curtain is stretched over a corner of the room, and Hemdat’s clothes are hanging behind the curtain. And there is no dust there. And that is no exaggeration,
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but the honest truth. And so Hemdat is fond of his room. He is especially fond of that small balcony in front of the room, which over-looks the valley where the train passes. The train meanders in the val-ley and the steam of the locomotive rises. And beneath the balcony a little garden is planted and a lemon tree grows there and a well is there. And the whole yard is surrounded by a wall, and in the day-time the sun dwells on it and at night there are shadows. And it is quiet there in the garden and in the yard. The landlady does her cooking, and her daughters sew dresses for themselves, and the landlord chants a Turkish melody from the songs of Reb Israel Nageara. There was another family there, an old man and his wife and their daughter, Germans from the remnants of the Templars. The old man was retired now and sits idly and writes letters to his relatives who have already died. And the daughter is preparing to go to her relatives in Germany, where a bridegroom is waiting for her, for the Ger-man fellows from Sarona and Wilhelmina and Jerusalem and Jaffa have deviated from the true path, and some of them go dancing with virgins, and so her parents are sending her to their homeland where there are still fellows who aren’t flawed. And since the room and the balcony and the yard and the neighbors are nice and quiet, Hemdat doesn’t make much noise either, and doesn’t bring guests into his home. But if a guest comes to him, he puts on the kettle and makes coffee for him, or drinks a glass of wine with him, for wine and cof-fee are always found in Hemdat’s house, for wine maketh glad the heart and coffee stirs one for work. And even though he doesn’t do any work, the coffee doesn’t move from his house, for if he gets work, he wouldn’t have to go looking for coffee.
And so, our comrades went off to Hemdat. And Sonya hurried them on and told them not to dawdle, for she was yearning to see Hemdat’s room, for she had heard a lot about it and hadn’t yet seen it. They plodded along in the sand from the knolls to the valley and from the valley to the knolls. And since the road was hard, Yael linked her arm in Shammai’s. And what Yael did with Shammai, Sonya wanted to do with Yarkoni. But not all minds are the same. Sonya wanted to link her arm with Yarkoni’s arm, and Yarkoni wanted to walk alone. And so he took a few steps forward, pulling off
a few hairs on his right arm, and didn’t notice Sonya, or he did no-tice and pretended he didn’t. Sonya bit her lip and stretched her empty hand toward Hemdat’s garret and said, Dark, no light there. Yael pressed Shammai’s arm and said, He’s already sleeping.
Hush, children, hush, said Shammai. It’s too bad he lives alone. If he didn’t, we would have done to him what we did to Miltzman, who lived in Litvinovski’s house. One night the whole Litvinovski family went to a concert and left Miltzman alone, for he had an attack of headache or liver or spleen or kidneys. We went to his house and found him sleeping. We tied him to the bed and took him with his bed to Mr. and Mrs. Litvinovski’s bedroom. And when they came back from the concert and found him. . . Here Shammai started laughing and repeated, And found him. . . And again he started laughing until he and Yael were rolling in the sand. Said Sonya, Hold your tongue, man, you’re waking up Hemdat. Shammai repeated, And found him. . . And laughed again. Yael put her hand on his mouth to cover the laughter. His lips tickled her hand and she started laughing too.
I
At that moment, Hemdat was sitting on the balcony in front of his room and looking into the gloom, where all kinds of shadows strolled among the trees in the garden. The shadows suddenly vanished and the figure of an old man rose up from the gloom. His face was long and his beard was big, made of one reddish-brown bloc, with a sable fedora on his head, one hand was on his heart, and a luster of modesty and humility emanated from him. One day before Passover a few years earlier, Hemdat dropped in on his old aunt Rebecca and found her waving a picture to shake off the dust. Hemdat looked and was amazed, for never in his life had he looked at a portrait of a man with such clear awareness. His aunt noticed that and said to him, This is a picture of Rabbi Nahman Krokhmal who made a book. And Hem-dat didn’t yet know that people made books, for he thought you take books from the case as you take flowers from the garden and wine from the cellar. When he grew up, that book fell into his hands,
The Guide to the Perplexed of our Time
. He read a few things in it that perplexed him. His spirit was struck and his questing soul awoke, and the gleam of the icon of Rabbi Nahman Krokhmal, who made that book, lighted his way. He ascended to the Land of Israel and didn’t meet anyone who could discuss Rabbi Nahman Krokhmal or Rabbi Nahman Krokhmal’s book. He forgot about the book and its author. Last night he went to Brenner’s. He found him sitting sadly in front of his house. Brenner said to him, I recalled a summer I spent in Zolkov, and I recalled its friendly Jews who were a bit childish and a bit lyrical and festive, who attract the heart like a legend with their fantastic simplicity, and among them, one stands out, Rabbi Nah-man Krokhmal, a giant of a man. Indeed I long to write a few chapters on that giant. Not a big tome filled with troubles on the anom-aly in our lives, but to unfurl a bit the scroll of a human life who was endowed with the spirit for profound investigation of the spirit of the nation, and who could truthfully observe its qualities. If I had a style befitting that, I would approach the task. Now that Hemdat sat alone, he recalled Rabbi Nahman Krokhmal, for all our literature that came after him is like an evening prayer after Neila, the closing prayer of Yom Kippur. Hemdat’s soul was filled with sublime longings, like the soul of a son of Israel when he recalls the great men of Israel.
Hemdat woke with a start at the young people’s shouts of joy. Where am I, Hemdat whispered to himself, as if he were afraid he would wake himself up. He wrinkled his brow and looked straight ahead. His hometown Shibush appeared to him with the old study house and the waters of the Stripa flowing slowly between two forests. And once again he skipped from that Jaffa and that neighborhood he lived in, and Rabbi Jacob Goldman comes and calls to him, and they stroll together, as he used to walk with the elders of his hometown. Rabbi Jacob Goldman doesn’t talk about research or about Hasidism, for never in his life did he even look at the original
Guide to the Perplexed
, and in his eyes the Hasidim are among those who make the ideal real, for they set their sights on the mediating deeds. But he offers him an interpretation of the Mishnah and clarifies his doubt about whether Jaffa is sanctified with the sanctity of the Land. And even though his doubt deprives Jaffa of sanctity, he is fond of his words, for Hemdat regretted not feeling in Jaffa what a son of Israel
should find in living in the Land of Israel, and he used to place the onus on himself. When he heard the doubt of Rabbi Jacob Goldman, he was relieved, for if he dwelt in city in the Land of Israel, he would feel the holiness of the Land. And once again he was transported to his comrades who mock him for making up a Land of Israel that doesn’t exist in reality. He put his head in his hands to hide his face from his comrades. Shammai and Yael and Sonya and Yarkoni came, along with Isaac Kumer, Hemdat’s compatriot.
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Said Yael, You’re sitting in the dark. What shall I reply to her, thought Hemdat, and didn’t reply at all. Said Shammai, Where’s your lamp? Said Hemdat, It went up in flame. Said he, Then, light a candle. Said Hemdat, If a candle, we have to search for candles, and candles I don’t have. Said Shammai, Gang, I tell you, this person is awed by the Sabbath. Said Yarkoni, Hemdat, we heard you’ve got wine in your house. Give us a drop and we’ll drink. Hemdat went into his room and brought out wine.
Yarkoni made peace with his soul. After all, Raya didn’t see me kiss Sonya, and I’m not obligated to tell her. I take on my work and I’ll bring Raya, and everything between me and Sonya will be forgotten, just like the affairs I had in Paris were forgotten. A person has to forget what should be forgotten, otherwise it’s impossible to exist. As he pondered to himself, he looked at Isaac. Could it be true, what I heard, that there was something between Sonya and Kumer? But Yarkoni isn’t one of those who lets his bad mood dominate him for long. He got rid of his jealousy and started thinking about the position he was appointed to and about Raya his intended who was to come to him. He was content and was sorry he had grieved Sonya. When he looked at her, he saw her eyes gazing at Hemdat. What do I care if her eyes gaze at Hemdat? Yarkoni asked himself and poured himself a glass and drank it at one gulp, bending his head back and supporting it with his left hand, and called out, L’haim to Hemdat, To your health. After he emptied his glass, he turned toward Sonya and said, If I had another glass I would drink a toast to you. Sonya offered him her glass. He took the glass, raised it toward Isaac, and said,
L’haim Mr. Kumer, here’s to Mr. Kumer. Isaac clutched his glass in a panic, touched it to the edge of his lips and answered, L’haim to you. Yarkoni looked around and asked, To whom shall we drink a third glass? Said Sonya, Enough, Yarkoni, you’ve had enough. Said Yarkoni, I wish it would be as you say, Sonya. What did you tell me, Sonitshka, who spent the night in my room? Ah, Mr. Kumer. Isaac was confused and stammered, This is how it was, that day when I came to Petach Tikva, Yedidya Rabinovitch took me to your room and I slept for less than half a night. Yarkoni picked up a bottle of wine and said, To Rabinovitch, to Rabinovitch, L’haim. L’haim, answered Isaac, and hunched his shoulders as if he suddenly felt a shudder.
They sat and drank one glass and two glasses and three glasses, and Hemdat sat and told stories about the first sages of Galicia. Hemdat was from a small town once full of Torah and wisdom, and even though it is emptied now of its learning, vestiges of aspira-tions still permeated it and the old men of the generation who still knew the first sages loved to tell about them, and Hemdat would sit and listen and put one tale together with another, and when he encountered people who wanted to hear, he would sit and tell them.
From the first sages, Hemdat came to the sages who came after them, who were lesser than them, but were greater than those who came after them. From them Hemdat came to Velvl Zbarazher, and to Reuben Asher Broydes, and the other writers and poets. From Velvl Zbarazher and Broydes, he came to Eleazar Rokakh. For when Eleazar Rokakh wandered Outside the Land to win souls for the settlement of the Land of Israel, he dropped in on Hemdat’s hometown and Hemdat heard a lot of things from him about the people of Jerusalem and the people of Safed, who look like imaginary creatures today, for the generations have changed and everything that was sim-ple and usual and common in generations past looks exaggerated and outlandish to us. From days gone by, Hemdat came to the Land of Israel in this time and told some adventures that had befallen him. When did these adventures befall me? he asked himself. And as he went on telling, it was clear to him that all those adventures did in-deed befall him, but he didn’t know when. But the mystery of the
date wasn’t a reason to deny them. This is what befell me, this is what befell me, Hemdat said to himself, as if to remove the doubt from his heart, and went on telling tales of things he had seen in a dream, as if they were real events. Yael was irritated, You never told me those things. I’m probably not important or worthwhile in your eyes. And to show him that he wasn’t important in her eyes either, she turned her face away from him and took Shammai’s head in her arms.
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