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turned to him. The Rabbi wanted to inundate them with words and
verses, but his mouth was blocked. The merchants sensed, apparently, that
they had gone too far with their claims this time. They lowered their
voices and said, "We are prepared to listen."
The Rabbi raised his head and looked at them again. They had been
tormenting him for years. Were it not for his resolute threat to go to
the mayor and tell him that the Jews refused to maintain the synagogue
and care for the old people, were it not for that whip that he bran–
dished over their heads every year and sometimes even at the regular
board meetings, the synagogue would not be standing.
"Anyone who abandons old parents is like a murderer," he finally
spoke up, as though not his own voice but an old pain broke through
the thickness of his body.
"We," the merchant Kaufmann raised his right hand, "we give what
we are capable of giving. You pressure us too much."
"Just for charity, just benevolence, nothing more," said the Rabbi,
and his hand collapsed onto the table. More than once he had been
about to declare, I resign. Find a Rabbi in your own image. The years
had passed, and he had done nothing, and now came the torments and
scrutiny again.
In the end he rose to his feet and called out "Shame on you! You
are rich men. Your stores are bursting with merchandise . In the summer
you travel to resort towns, and in the winter you go on ski holidays.
God gave you possessions and money, and you, instead of thanking Him
for his bounty, you bring contempt down upon His dwelling and His
servants. God will not pardon you for that ungratefulness. He sees every–
thing, and He knows everything, and nothing is hidden from Him."
Hearing that outburst, the merchants rose to their feet and said,
"You're out of order. The synagogue budget is on the agenda today,
not religious duties."
"You're sucking my blood."
"We're prepared to listen to relevant remarks, but not sermons."
The Rabbi knew he had erred this time. The first words had led him
astray. This was not the way one negotiated with cagey merchants. It
irked him that they had once more outwitted him. Again they had laid
bare his weakness. Again they had maneuvered him into a corner. Even
Hirzl, who had never attended school, even she chose her words better
than he did. This time it was hard for him to subdue his anger, and he
went outdoors and fled to the river.
Thus the struggle had proceeded for years. When the Rabbi reached
the age of fifty, he was given the collected works of Goethe in leather
binding as a present. The Rabbi refused to accept it. "If you wish to
