The Penitent

by Isaac Bashevis Singer

  What does it say in Proverbs? “There is that speaketh like the piercing of a sword.” These are words that pierce you through and through, that wreck all your plans, that strip you spiritually bare. In those days and those weeks, I often heard such words. They upset and unnerved me so that I was left as if paralyzed. Words flung me from hot to cold, as it is said about the sinners in Gehenna. One minute I was ready to go to Reb Haim and propose to him that I marry his daughter, the next I was ready to drop everything and go to Tel Aviv, or even back to New York. I woke up at night and pictured the delights that I had once enjoyed with women and that I could still enjoy in the future. My rage against modern woman suddenly evaporated and I began to tally up her good points: her elegance, her refinement, her skill at facing up to the male and fanning his desire for her. Even promiscuity and deceit no longer seemed so awful to me. It was all part of the big sexual game, of the eternal drama between “him” and “her.” I was amazed at how quickly my emotions swung from one extreme to the other.

  I slept badly and got up late. I had completely lost the urge to pray. Putting on the prayer shawl and phylacteries had become a burden. When I opened the Gemara and began to study about the laws of the Sabbath and about how to sacrifice the paschal lamb, I started to get sleepy. “It’s not for you! Not for you!” the voice within me shouted.

  Early one morning, I forgot (made myself forget) to go to pray. I went outside and took a stroll through the streets of the new Jerusalem. Houses were being built, hotels. The stores displayed more or less the same goods as in Tel Aviv or even New York. The streets here were wider and cleaner. Spring was coming.

  Suddenly I heard somebody call my name: “Mr. Shapiro!” I looked around, and it was Priscilla, the girl I had met on the plane.

  For a moment I considered not answering her and simply running away. But I ignored all my resolutions, went up to her, and we greeted each other. She put out her cheek to be kissed and I kissed it. One moment I was a Jew like my grandfather, and the next I was again a man from the twentieth century.

  She said, “You’re growing a beard?”

  “Yes.”

  “It suits you. Why didn’t you call? You promised you would.”

  I wanted to tell her that I had had enough of wantonness in New York and I didn’t want any more of it in Jerusalem, but instead I offered the pretext that I had lost her telephone number. I could tell from her expression that she was glad to have bumped into me and that I wouldn’t be able to rid myself of her so easily. We passed a café and she said, “Come on, let’s have coffee.”

  “Don’t go with her!” cried the Good Spirit, but my feet followed their own course. We were already sitting at a table, and a waitress came over to take our order. Priscilla ordered coffee and I tea. She wanted ice cream, too.

  I said to her, “How is your professor?”

  “Oh, Bill is just fine. He’s already picked up a lot of Hebrew. He’ll soon be talking like a Sabra. But to me, Hebrew sounds like Chinese. Luckily, everyone speaks English here. Everybody at the university, and the people in the street, too. Oh, with English and with dollars, you can make out anywhere.”

  And she smiled, gratified that she belonged to the nation of English and dollars. She told me that she had sublet someone’s apartment. Its owner was a chemistry professor who had gone to study in Germany for a year.

  I said, “How can a professor at the Jerusalem University, a Jew, go to a country full of Nazi murderers?”

  And she replied, “Oh, you can’t cling to such grudges forever. Many professors from Israel take courses in Germany.”

  She uttered the words “such grudges” as if they referred to some petty squabbles. The millions of murdered and tortured Jews, the gassed, the burned, the victims of sadistic experiments, concerned her as much as last year’s frost. She felt at home in Jerusalem, and the professor who had sublet the apartment to her undoubtedly felt just as much at home in Bonn, Hamburg, or wherever he might be. He had probably already found himself a Fräulein there and she called him Mein Schatz.

  I said to Priscilla, “How is that dark young man you sat next to on the way from Rome to Tel Aviv?”

  “Oh, so you were spying on me? You disappeared somewhere and they gave me another seat. Imagine this: he is also a professor or a lecturer at the university. When he heard to whom I was going, he wouldn’t leave my side.”

  I could tell from her eyes that she wanted to boast to me. That’s the nature of adultery—it demands boasting. Among men and women both. This is actually true of all crimes. Many criminals have been caught and sentenced because they boasted. The reason for this is that crime actually provides little pleasure, not even physical pleasure. You have to enhance this pleasure through boasting. If someone envies him, this signifies to a person that he has really enjoyed something. I sat there listening and watching Priscilla’s eyes gleaming. She spoke in a low, confidential tone. The name of the young man who sat next to her on the plane was Hans. He had come to Israel from Germany as a boy with his parents. Others had changed their names, but he had kept the name Hans. He was studying in Israel. Hebrew was, in a sense, his mother tongue. But he spoke excellent German, English, and French as well. He was studying psychology, anthropology, and who knows what else. A serious student. He had already been married, but he was divorced. It hadn’t worked out between his wife and him. He had a little daughter of three. He was unusually intelligent and quite witty. He made puns that were simply ingenious. He wanted to become a diplomat.

  “So you’re having an affair, eh?”

  Priscilla put a finger to her mouth.

  “Really, I must be crazy,” she said. “Otherwise I couldn’t explain it myself. Bill is wonderful in every respect—good, tender, devoted. He is a marvelous lover besides. But he is a little too busy for me, and I have lots of time. Hans also has time. He’s not as ambitious as Bill, and by nature he’s a playboy. He has an apartment and he likes a drink. Yes, we do meet. I introduced him to Bill and he isn’t at all jealous. Naturally, he doesn’t know what we’re up to, but he and Hans have become good friends. They hadn’t met before I introduced them. Isn’t that strange? A university is like a city. The professors don’t even know each other.”

  “Must you have two men?” I asked her.

  “I don’t ‘must,’ but it’s fun. Bill satisfies me completely, but it’s convenient to meet Hans in the daytime when Bill is busy with his work. We have to be careful, but Jerusalem is a big city. He has the finest liquors at his place. Bill doesn’t drink, but Hans likes cognac. We drink, then we forget ourselves. I beg you, don’t look at me so sternly. I’m not killing anybody. Bill had other women, too, when I was in New York. He even introduced me to his former girlfriend. She is the wife of a psychology professor. How about you? How is it going for you here in the Holy Land?”

  “Not bad.”

  “Have you made friends?” she asked.

  “Yes, ‘friends.’ ”

  “Tell me about them. I like to hear such intimate things. After all, we spent some time together. If it hadn’t suddenly become day, we might have—”

  She didn’t finish. Her eyes were amused. I wanted to test her and I said, “You still owe me love.”

  A smile spread over Priscilla’s face. “Owe? I owe nothing to no one. But I’ll always remember those amazing two hours that I spent with you. An airplane is no place to make love. It’s too difficult. Positively uncomfortable.”

  “Would you come to my place?”

  “Where are you staying?”

  I told her where I lived and she said, “I actually don’t have the time. Two men are more than enough for me. Besides, I take courses in Hebrew and this takes up a lot of my time, too. But we don’t have to become estranged. Every man who has so much as kissed me has a place in my heart. I never forget anything. Some time ago I thought of you as I was lying in bed. Isn’t man a remarkable creature?”

  “Yes, very.”

  “I’m sure that you condemn me i
n your mind. You certainly label me a whore and other such things. But believe me, you’re wrong. I’m true in my own fashion to Bill, and to Hans, too. I don’t deceive either of them. I give each of them all of me. But the ‘me’ of a person is a complex thing. When I’m with Bill, I’m with him with my whole body and soul. And when I’m with Hans, then I’m all his, too. Each man has a different approach, a different style, and it’s most intriguing to see how much individuality there can be in such a process as sex. Bill, for instance, doesn’t talk when he makes love. He keeps his mouth shut. He wants it completely dark in the house, or at least partially so. He is serious through it all. If I say a word or make a joke, he says I’m disturbing him. Hans is just the opposite. He talks such nonsense that he keeps me in stitches the whole time. To him, the sexual process is tied in with humor. I like his lighthearted approach. I get more aroused by the fact that all this is taking place in such a holy city as Jerusalem. But I’m sure that God doesn’t mind. To Him, the earth is nothing more than a speck of dust, and people a swarm of worms. Who would possibly care whether a worm copulated?”

  “Worms don’t deceive their mates.”

  “Well, I’m only trying to make a point. Actually there is no God. I’m completely convinced of this. To the Jews, Jerusalem is a holy city, and to the Arabs, Mecca is also holy.”

  “If there is no God and there are no divine laws, what can you have against Hitler? Why couldn’t he do whatever he wanted to?”

  “Oh, Hitler was a beast.”

  “If Hitler had won the war, he would be deified today. The professors would find a million justifications for him. They’re writing many books about him as it is, and a whole literature is forming around him.”

  “Yes, he has definitely entered into world history. A professor of history can’t skip over Hitler. He must also research the conditions that created him. Hans says that Hitler was impotent.”

  “Is that what he says? Probably he knows.”

  “Oh, he had a sweetheart, Eva Braun, but it may be that it was all platonic.”

  “Could you be Hitler’s sweetheart?” I asked.

  Priscilla’s eyes filled with laughter. “You have such funny ideas.”

  “Wouldn’t it be interesting to spend a night with him?”

  “Oh, I never thought of him in that context,” she said. “He’s not my type at all.”

  “Nevertheless, if you were riding with him in an airplane in the dark and no one was looking, you’d probably be curious to find out how such a person made love.”

  “Oh, you’re sarcastic today. No, Hitler is definitely not my type. I’d have sooner made it with Mussolini. They say that he had a thousand women. He sent out agents across all Italy to seek out victims for him. And he wasn’t at all particular.”

  Priscilla took sips of coffee. She lit a cigarette and said, “Something has happened to you.”

  “Nothing has happened to me,” I replied, “but something has happened to my people. A great tragedy. God chose us out of all the peoples and wanted us to avoid their abominations, but we often do the same as our persecutors. He keeps punishing and we keep sinning. The evildoers flog us, stab us, and burn us, yet at the same time many of us try to copy their ways. Within our time we were dealt the worst blow a people can receive, yet we learned nothing from it.”

  “Oh, I saw right away that you’re in a strange mood,” Priscilla said. “Were you there when God chose us? You get all your information from the Bible and the Bible is a book like all other books. Men wrote it, not God. I’m no Bible expert, but it’s enough to read two pages to see that these are men’s words, men’s concepts. For the Christians, the New Testament is also the Bible, and for four hundred million Mohammedans, the Koran is the Bible. There is no proof,” Priscilla went on, “that the Jews’ sufferings were a punishment from Heaven. The Jews were a small nation and they caught it from the Egyptians, the Persians, the Babylonians, the Greeks, and the Romans. The other small nations assimilated and became part of the bigger nations, but the Jews were masochists. They liked to receive blows. I’m sure that the present experiment with Israel will not last long either. They’re again surrounded by tens of millions of enemies, and your God will look on with the same indifference when Israel is destroyed as He did when the ghettos in Poland were being leveled. The fact is, I’m afraid this might happen tomorrow or the day after. Each time I hear the roar of a jet it seems to me it has started already.”

  That’s what Priscilla said, and she looked at me with sharp reproof. Her gaze seemed to ask, “What can you say in reply to this? How can you be so sure that what I’m saying is not the whole, bitter truth?”

  16

  “Priscilla,” I said, “it may be that what you say is the bitter truth. Neither you nor I were in Heaven. I’m not so pious yet that I don’t nurse any doubts. But even if I knew there is no God, or there is a God but He is on Hitler’s side, I would still refuse to go along with those who agree to murder, lies, falseness, theft, and such. If there is no God, or if God is amoral, then I want to serve that idol who is supposed to be moral, who loves the truth, who has compassion for people and animals. Decent Jews served this idol for four thousand years. For this idol, they went to the pyres.”

  “Is it worth going to a pyre for an idol?” Priscilla asked.

  “Yes, Priscilla,” I replied. “If millions of Germans sacrificed themselves for the idol Hitler, and so many millions of Russians and Jews sacrificed themselves for the idol Stalin, I’m ready to sacrifice myself—or at least to suffer—for the idol in whose name we received the Ten Commandments and the whole Torah. If it’s already man’s destiny to serve idols, then I want an idol that meets my requirements, rather than one who evokes revulsion in me twenty-four hours of the day.”

  “Why serve any idol at all?” Priscilla asked. “I don’t serve anybody.”

  “Yes, you do serve. You gave up years to learn languages. You and your kind squander your lives for pleasures that are no pleasures at all. Your kind undergo operations to shorten your noses. You wage a hopeless war against growing old. Many people like you have lost their lives in the name of Communism, Nazism, or some other ‘ism.’ Every hollow slogan, every foolish theory demands its victims, and there is never any lack of volunteers to make the sacrifice. All the jails and hospitals are full of people who sacrificed themselves for a few dollars, for a woman, for a hazardous game, for a horse race, for revenge, for drugs, and for the devil knows what else. Every new invention demands countless new victims. The automobile has already killed millions of people. The airplane, too, is an angel of death. Alcohol kills millions of others. Thousands of women die of abortions. Countless men and women have suffered and died and continue to suffer from venereal disease. The ‘idol’ that I want to serve is an idol of life and of faithfulness. He demands no victims. He is not a Moloch. All he demands is that we don’t build our happiness on the misfortune of another.”

  “That’s morality, not religion.”

  “There’s no such thing as morality without religion. If you don’t serve one idol, you serve another. Of all the lies in the world, humanism is the biggest. Humanism doesn’t serve one idol but all the idols. They were all humanists: Mussolini, Hitler, Stalin. Well, and what are the patriots in any of the countries? Hundreds of thousands of Englishmen perished to enable Victoria to bear the title of empress. A Napoleon sent millions to their deaths so that he could wear a crown on his head. The pious Jews, the Talmud Jude, never served any king or prince. They were driven to their deaths, but at least they didn’t go of their own free will.”

  “Does this mean that you want to become a pious Jew like those who go around here with long gaberdines and earlocks?”

  “Yes, exactly like them.”

  “Well, I wish you luck. But this is only a mood. It will last no more than a few days or, at the most, a few weeks.”

  “I’ll never go back to being your kind of person anymore.”

  We said goodbye and we each went
our own way. I was ashamed of myself for having lectured this way to her, but sometimes talking to others clarifies things for yourself. Yes, I was ready to become a Jew even if the Torah was a figment of the imagination and if there was no God.

  That night, I told Reb Haim everything that had happened to me. I also told him that I wanted to marry his daughter.

  I believe that this is more or less the story I wanted to tell you. After I got the divorce from Celia, I married Sarah. As you see, I let my beard and earlocks grow, I put on a long gaberdine, and once and for all I broke with everything that had to do with modern Jewry.

  I don’t want to mislead you that all this came easily to me. There were days when I wanted to leave Sarah and run back to Gehenna. There were nights when I couldn’t close an eye, and tossed as if in a fever. Everyone knows that smoking cigarettes can cause cancer, but hundreds of millions still can’t break themselves of this imaginary pleasure. Everyone knows that overeating leads to heart trouble, but millions of people still stuff themselves with all kinds of unhealthy foods. Everyone knows that Communism kills its adherents, but if Russia would make even the slightest gesture toward the modern Jews, many would revert to that idolatry with the same fervor as before. Maybe they’ve already taken down Stalin’s picture in that kibbutz, but they still long for the Red idolatry. I say this because, although I knew for years that what I longed for was a deadly poison, I still longed for it. But as the saying goes, I had burned my bridges behind me.

  As I said, I married Sarah, and she soon became pregnant. I have three children with her and the fourth is on the way. I’ve used up a good chunk of my money. I’ve lost some teeth and I haven’t replaced them with false ones. What for? I neither want to nor do I have to appeal to anyone anymore. My wife doesn’t have a full set of teeth either, but this doesn’t make me love her any less or be unfaithful to her.