by S. Agnon
“The midrash on Song of Songs states that a parable should not be regarded as something trivial. It can lead us to understand what the Torah is saying. The midrash offers a parable itself to illustrate this point. A king had a gold coin or a precious pearl that went missing in his palace. How would he find it? With a pennyworth wick of the candle that would lead him to it. Likewise, a parable can lead us to discover what the Torah is saying. So do not regard it as a trivial thing.”
The shamash interrupted his narration and observed:
Most people today know this parable, but in our Master’s day collections of midrash were largely unavailable, except for Midrash Tanhuma, and so any teaching from the midrash was regarded as something brand new. Furthermore, whenever our Master would cite a parable from the Talmud or the midrash, he quoted it word for word, as “it is like a king who. . . .” But when he told a parable in his own words he never introduced it that way. I once heard a theory about this. In the past, kings had stature and were worthy examples for parables; today, when their power has been diminished, as is the case with the Polish kings who did not rise up to save themselves during the Khmelnitski pogroms, it is not flattering to compare anything to them. I now return to the words of our Master, may the memory of the righteous be for a blessing.
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“I bring the parable I will tell not to illuminate a point in the Torah but to illuminate a point about transgression against it. Maimonides, of blessed memory, says in his Code that it is a positive commandment to pray each day, as it is written, You shall serve the Lord your God. The Oral Tradition teaches that 'serving' entails prayer, as it is written, And serve Him with all your heart, and the Sages have taught, What is the service of the heart? It is prayer.”
Whenever he quoted a biblical verse our Master would recite it in a melody, the way a melamed teaches Torah to children, and he would explain it as he went along. Each one would receive it according to his capacity. There were about two hundred householders in Buczacz in our Master’s day, besides servants and wayfarers, and they all eagerly drank in his words.
Our Master then noted that according to the opinion of Naḥmanides the commandment to pray is rabbinically ordained, and then he cited Maimonides’ view in his Book of the Commandments that prayer is a commandment mandated by the Torah itself. He analyzed both positions and came out for Maimonides’ view and against that of Naḥmanides, after which he turned to Reb Akiva Shas and asked him, “Is this not so, Reb Akiva?” Reb Akiva nodded and said, “Certainly, certainly.” Flustered, he added, “But does our Master need me to agree?” The interpreters of mystic secrets explained his seeking Reb Akiva’s opinion this way: according to those who delve into secret wisdom, Naḥmanides was descended from the right earlock of the great teacher Rabbi Akiva, and since our Master was going against Naḥmanides’ view, he sought confirmation for his approach from Reb Akiva Shas in deference to Reb Akiva’s venerable namesake. Personally, I have no concern with secret matters. Would that I could comprehend even a fraction of the Torah’s revealed meaning.
Our Master then began to explain the sublimity of prayer, which enables a mortal human being, born of woman, fashioned from the dust, and food for the worms, to extol the eternal living and exalted holy God, and even to beseech Him for our needs. Then he dwelt on the sublimity of the Hebrew language, from which our prayers are formed, and on the secret of the holy tongue, which holds the mystery of the perfect unity, and which was bestowed before the sin in the Garden of Eden and certainly before human speech was confounded and diffused into seventy tongues. Our Master expressed it in these words: “Come and see how great prayer is. In prayer a person can raise himself up to the original state he was in before the generation of the tower of Babel; for at that time, as we find in the book Gates of Light, God apportioned the nations among the angels on high and reserved Israel for Himself, since Israel is an element of the supernal God.” Here our Master looked out at the entire congregation, householders and craftsmen, servants and wayfarers, surveying them all in a single glance. He pulled his talit over his forehead, causing the phylactery on his head to jut out under it and create an opening on the side through which his white curls fell out. They were illumined by all the shining lights, light from above and light from below, the light of the setting sun and the light of the memorial candles burning as on Yom Kippur. There was not a man or women who did not light a candle in memory of their departed. Even beggars and those who could only afford to light them on Sabbath eve and holidays, even those who were wards of charity—they all borrowed candles to light.
As our Master stood there between the Ark and the congregation, he added, “In the Midrash ha-ne’elam we find that the idea of creating Israel arose in the divine mind before the creation of the world and even before the creation of the angels. Because of God’s great love for them they were destined to be called Israel, which is God’s name. In the Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer it is told that when Jacob asked the angel ‘What is your name?’ the angel bestowed upon him his own name, Israel.” Our Master again looked around at all the people in the synagogue, householders and craftsmen, servants and wayfarers, and then said in his sweet-sounding voice, “Israel! An element of the supernal God! An element of the supernal God!” I do not remember if he actually repeated that phrase or if I just think he did. As the saying in the Talmud goes, “the nobleman took hold of me and his fragrance rubbed off on my hand.” Because I served our Master, his voice resounds within me. These are profound and sublime matters, and not every mind can handle them.
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Our Master picked up his talit with both hands, one on each side, laid it back on his neck, and paused for a moment. No one could tell whether he had concluded his sermon or if he had more to add, but we were all quite prepared to continue standing and listening, even those who were weak from the fast. The synagogue then did not yet have benches to sit on, other than a chair for the rabbi and one for Elijah the prophet.
The heart knows its own bitterness. We knew in our heart that this was our Master’s last sermon, may the memory of the righteous be for a blessing. On Hoshana Rabba, when we got to the prayer “Answer the faithful,” his voice lost its resonance, and on the day after Simḥat Torah he passed into eternal life. I do not want to interrupt what I am relating here but I would only note that the reward of humility is grace, and our Master’s humility in life was matched only by his grace in death.
And so all of us remained standing, waiting to hear more. Even the little boys who could not stand still even for a minute stood motionless. Whether they understood what was being said or not is uncertain, but words of truth are always eagerly heard even if they are not understood.
Our Master loosened his talit from around his neck, lifted his hands in gratitude, and the light in his eyes took in the entire congregation. In his pleasant voice he said, “The three Patriarchs did us a great kindness when they instituted the prayer services, and after them, the men of the Great Assembly when they arranged the order of the prayers, and, no less importantly, the reading of the Torah, which was ordained by Moses to be read on Sabbaths, festivals, New Moons, and the intermediate days of the festivals, as it is written And Moses announced the festivals of the Lord to the children of Israel. Ezra ordained that Israel should read from the Torah on Mondays, Thursdays, and at the afternoon service on the Sabbath.” For each of these points our Master cited their sources in the Babylonian Talmud, the Jerusalem Talmud, the midrashic collections Sifre, Sifra, and Mekhilta, the Tosafot, Alfasi, Rambam, and the Tur—all these sources he cited by heart. Most of them he had not seen since the day he left Nemirov, where he studied with his holy teacher, may the Lord redeem his blood. I have heard that the faculty of memory is a male attribute and the faculty of forgetting a female one, as is implied in the verse Hearken, O daughter, take note and incline your ear, forget your people and your father’s house. We see there that forgetfulness goes with being a daughter. Today there are individuals in Buczacz who own more holy bo
oks than there were in the entire town in our Master’s day. I know of a great scholar, the rabbi of several communities, who at the time of his passing remarked that while it is certainly hard to take leave of a world in which one can acquire the merits of Torah, commandments, and good deeds, in the Academy on High he would get to see tractate ‘Eruvin, which he never laid eyes on in his lifetime. I also remember two yeshiva students who once came to our town after walking for two days, so they could view the minor tractates, having heard that there was here in Buczacz a man who owned all the volumes of the Talmud.
Let us return to our Master’s sermon. After he explained the commandment of the public reading of the Torah, he raised his talit above his shoulders, covered his head, and said, “The Holy One, blessed be He, has done us a great kindness, for when a person sits in the synagogue he hears the words of the Torah that God gave to Israel.” Again he lowered his talit onto his shoulders, placed both his arms on the podium in front of him, rested his head upon them, and told of certain elders, of whom it was said by those who know of such matters, that during the reading of the Torah they ascended to the spiritual level Israel was at when the Torah was given.
Our Master further related the following: “When I was studying in the yeshiva of my great teacher, luminary of the ages, there came to town a preacher who asked my Master’s permission to speak in the Great Synagogue on the Sabbath. The weekly Torah portion was Yitro, and when my Master asked him what he would talk about, the preacher replied that his subject would be the Ten Commandments. When my Master asked him to be more specific, the preacher replied that the Ten Commandments in this Torah portion are meant for this world and the Ten Commandments in Deuteronomy for the world to come. To which my Master said, ‘I do not know this world and I do not know the next one; all l know is what is put forth in the verse Would that they had this heart of theirs to fear Me and keep My commands for all time so that it would go well with them and with their children forever’.”
Our Master, may the memory of the righteous be for a blessing, melodiously repeated the entire verse, and when he intoned the words so that it would go well with them and with their children forever, everyone knew that to fear God and to obey His commandments was what it meant for it to go well with us and our children forever.
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Our Master continued: “Now that we have seen the grandeur of prayer and the sanctity of the Torah, let me say something about the conversations people conduct while the congregation is praying and reading from the Torah.
“Reb Zevulun the spice merchant, may he rest in peace, told me that he once heard from some far-roaming travelers about a desert that lies beyond the land of Cush. In that desert there is a certain species of monkeys that look like dogs and whose main food is ants. When one of these monkeys goes out hunting and notices an anthill, it places one of its paws over the anthill, buries itself in the sand so as to make itself invisible, and pretends to be asleep. The ants in turn see what they think is a nice soft hill in which to live, and they leave their dens in which they have stored their food. Whole armies of them crawl out and climb up the hill without knowing that an animal’s paw lies underneath. The remaining ants see this and are also drawn to the hill, and they all crawl all over the monkey’s paw, completely unaware that they stand on the very site of their destruction and that a dangerous animal lies in wait to devour them. The monkey lies there covered in sand, its paw covering the ants, the entire colony of which has by now left its den and been drawn to this hill. When the paw is completely full of ants, the monkey opens its mouth and swallows then all with one gulp.
“Like life in that desert, so is our existence in this world, and like that monkey who looks like a dog, so is Satan who bedevils Israel. And we, the remnant of Israel, the house of Jacob—how tiny are we, O Israel, how feeble our strength—we are like ants, of which Scripture says, They are a people without power, yet they prepare food for themselves in summer, and of which it is further written Go to the ant, you sluggard, study its ways and learn. And yet with all its wisdom, the ant cannot avoid falling into the hands of the monkey.
“Dearly beloved brothers, perhaps I see this matter so clearly that I have not explained it to you adequately, so let me say it another way. It is well known that Israel’s house of prayer is called a nest, as we learn from the psalm, How lovely is Your dwelling place, O Lord of hosts, I long, I yearn for the courts of the Lord, my body and soul shout for joy to the living God, after which the psalmist continues, Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself in which to set her young near Your altar, O Lord of hosts, my king and my God. Happy are they who dwell in Your house. . . . Now we can understand what Job meant when he said I will die with my nest: if I will not merit to fulfill the psalmist’s prayer and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, then I hope that when I die, I die there, my soul expiring in prayer to the living God.”
The memorial candles burned brightly as candles do when it gets dark. Our Master looked at them and said, “The sun is about to set, the day is nearly done, so I will be brief and speak only to the point here. I would only cite Rabbi Ibn Ezra on the verse I have just noted, and the swallow a nest for herself in which to set her young near Your altar, O Lord of hosts. Ibn Ezra quotes a commentator who explains that there is a certain kind of bird that flies away from settled areas where people live and makes its nest near the special place where sacrifices are offered to the blessed God, so that it might merit seeing its young near the altar. Now we know that no birds nested in the Holy Temple, as the Radak pointed out, and even Ibn Ezra himself disagreed with what that commentator wrote. In any case, his reference provides a fitting metaphor for Israel, who, like that bird, sets its young near Your altar, O Lord of hosts, my king and my God.
“One more thing before I return to the matter at hand. It is well known that the abode of the Messiah is called a bird’s nest. It is less well known that this nest rests upon the prayers that Israel offers. How careful, then, must one be not to talk while the congregation is praying so as not, God forbid, to topple the nest from its perch.
“The press of time and the many facets of the matter have kept me from interpreting all the lessons of the parable. Nevertheless, we can see the parallel between the monkey in the parable and Satan in its lesson. Monkey and Satan both want the same thing: to fill their bellies, the former by stretching forth its paw and ensnaring ants, the latter by sticking out his hand to grab the words of Israel’s prayers and of the Torah and stuff his belly with them.
“Praised be the Name of the Lord who hears the prayers of His people Israel. He will not reject those who have been banished. There is not a prayer or a single word of Torah that goes to the wrong place. Still, a person should be very mindful about talking or conversing during the service and the Torah reading so that his prayers not go to a place where we do not want them to go.”
Our Master took the corners of his talit, one in each hand, and tucked them into his sash. Or maybe it was just his hands he tucked in and not the corners of his talit—I do not recall. In any case, when he was praying, his tzitzit swung around freely. I mention this because I have seen a new practice that our ancestors never imagined, that of tucking the corners of the talit into the sash the way laborers on the job fold the hem of their shirt under their belt.
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Our Master added, “Our days are as a passing shadow, but each day itself is long and drawn out, so let us temper our remaining time of mourning and fasting with another parable.
“It is common wisdom that there is no person who does not suffer, and who knows this better than the people of Israel? My parable is about such a person. There was a person to whom trouble befell, and he was unable to deliver himself from it. He looked all over for help. He heard that very near him, not far away, there lived a lord in a castle, a ruler who was as powerful as he was righteous and as righteous as he was caring. The man rose early and went to see him. When the lord of the castle s
aw this Jew walking about in the courtyard, he commanded that the man be brought to him. The man went in and began to tell the lord of his trouble. The lord of the castle was filled with compassion for him. Remember that this lord of the castle had many means at his disposal, and when he took pity on a person he had the ability to help him. As the Jew stood and recounted his heartaches, he began to digress about other things and brought up all sorts of irrelevant matters. Talk of one thing led to talk of another and very soon the man was uttering the most frivolous things that in any other place would not even be worth mentioning, all the more so before the lord of the castle. Whereupon the lord of the castle said to himself, Why need I bother with his trifles? If he is looking for trivial things, what is he doing here? There is verse that confirms him in this judgment, as it is written, Who has asked this of you, that you come and trample My courts.
“So now consider that the lord of the castle is the Master of all worlds who has the power to help us and deliver us at all times. When a Jew comes before Him to beseech Him for help and to plead for his life, is it not perfectly obvious and self-evident that when he opens his mouth he should be careful not to utter anything unnecessary and not to burden God, so to speak, with having to listen to things that are inappropriate and irrelevant? The Lord is near to all who call upon Him, to all who call upon him in truth, and not to those who talk of empty things and engage in idle conversations.
“This in regard to prayer. Now let me say something about the Torah reading. There was a certain poor man to whom the lord of the castle took a liking. He extended to him the kindness of letting him settle on his land, confirming his consent in writing so as to prevent anyone from seizing what had been granted to him or cheating him out of it. The lord then read to the poor man the document of attestation so that he would know what was his. One would assume that the poor man would listen, since his whole right to live and dwell on the land depended on that document. The poor man not only did not listen, he interrupted the lord in his reading, thus showing contempt for the one who sought to do him good and harming himself by not paying attention to what was being given to him.
