The Rabbi of Worms. M. K. Hammond

The Rabbi of Worms - M. K. Hammond


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tall man came forward once again and said it was time to conclude the assembly. For the Jeschiba students, he said, there would be daily study sessions with Rabbi Scholomo. All Jews were welcome to attend his next Sabbath sermon. Would the rabbi now like to say a final word before the congregation was dismissed?

      The rabbi looked out over the crowd of upturned faces, all eager to hear more. He said, “We are commanded to cleave to the Lord, but how can we cleave to a consuming flame, or a pillar of cloud, or a voice from above? We must cleave to what we can see and touch. Therefore if you cleave to Torah and to wise men who teach Torah, it will be the same as if you cleave to the Lord.” Rabbi Scholomo recited a brief blessing, stepped down from the platform, and went out the side door with the other rabbis.

      Once the boys were out on the street, Josef turned to his friend. “That was great!” he said.

      “I’m glad you liked it. How much did you understand?”

      “All the German, of course. And most of the Hebrew. Except certain words like derush and sod. Can you explain those things to me?”

      “Not all of it. I’ll try to find out more in the study sessions. We can talk about it next week. It’s time to go home now.”

      Josef went up Jews’ Alley toward Market Street. He was so excited by what he had just heard and invigorated by the cool night air that he fairly skipped along. A couple of bright stars caught his attention. Then, suddenly, he collided with something. Standing there at the end of the alley was someone who put his hand on Josef’s shoulder and spoke in a familiar voice. “Hello, Josef,” said Father Albert. “What did you learn?”

      Chapter 5

      Father Albert!” said Josef. “How did you know I was here?”

      “I didn’t know. But I suspected. When I make pastoral calls around the city, I see certain things.”

      “Like what things,” asked Josef, looking warily at the priest.

      “I’ve observed you walking and talking with a young Jew, a handsome lad with a quick and lively attitude about him.”

      “That’s Mosche,” said Josef under his breath.

      “Yes, well, this Mosche fellow must be teaching you something. You seem quite absorbed in conversation whenever I see you together.”

      “Yes, Father. He’s teaching me Hebrew.”

      “Hmmm. That seems a good thing. But you must be careful. Not everyone will recognize the value of what you are doing.”

      “Who do you mean, Father?”

      After pondering for a moment, Father Albert said, “I think I’ve said enough about that. Come, let me walk you home, and you tell me what you learned today.”

      •

      A few days later Josef met Mosche in the market square. He pulled his friend away from the crowded stalls and whispered, “Father Albert knows about our meetings.”

      “Is that a bad thing?”

      “He says some people might not approve.”

      Mosche frowned. “Why not?”

      “I think it’s because they don’t want me talking to a Jew.”

      “That’s crazy! Are you going to stop being my friend?”

      “No!”

      “Good. Let me tell you what I learned this week.” Mosche summarized for Josef the sessions he had attended on biblical interpretation. He told, too, of the thoughtful decisions given by Rabbi Scholomo in response to questions by petitioners. “Somebody told me the rabbi was named after wise king Solomon who built the first temple in Jerusalem,” he said. “I think our own Scholomo is the wisest man alive today. He seems to know everything.”

      “Really? Would he answer my questions?”

      “If you can get near enough to ask, I think he would.”

      Josef wondered how that might be possible. How could he, a young boy who was not even a Jew, gain an audience with the great rabbi of Worms? Could he find out where the man was staying and sneak into his house? Could he stop him on the street? No, he would not be able to get through the crowds of admirers and petitioners. Yet he felt a strong urge to get near the rabbi, to see such wisdom up close, and to ask him questions that no one else could answer.

      Josef lay in bed that night thinking about these questions. Suddenly it came to him: Ruth and Eliel lived in Troyes! They might know the rabbi personally! He would ask them if it might be possible to meet him.

      The next morning Josef did ask Eliel, though he was not certain Eliel understood what he was asking. But the man nodded repeatedly and told Josef to wait for him at home after the midday meal. Josef waited out on the street, hoping his mother would not see Eliel return and the two of them leave together. They went to the schoolhouse and found it already packed with people. Rabbi Scholomo was sitting behind a table at the front, with a scribe seated on either side of him. Two men stood before the table, each making his case to the rabbi. When one or the other of them got excited and raised his voice, the rabbi waved his forefinger gently to calm the man. After he had heard both sides of the argument, the rabbi made a few notes, spoke briefly to the men involved, and stood to announce his judgment. As he spoke, the scribes beside him wrote quickly, dipping their quills repeatedly in ink pots and moving their hands gracefully over the pages. Without telling every detail of the case, the rabbi described the situation and outlined the general principles involved. He cited passages from Torah and Mishna. Finally he delivered a verdict directly to the two men standing before him. Neither seemed completely satisfied.

      Other cases followed. There was constant movement in the audience as people came and left, but all present were quiet and attentive. Josef thought he would never have a chance to ask any questions of the rabbi or even get near enough to be heard. That was all right with him. He didn’t really want to stand in front of the table while all these people watched. His questions would seem silly. People would laugh at him. Someone might recognize that he was not a Jew. All at once he thought of Mosche. Was he here? Josef scanned the crowd but did not see a familiar face. No, it was better that he not be noticed. He would listen to one more case and then sneak out.

      The next case was long and complicated. When it was over, one of the scribes rose and said the assembly would adjourn for two hours while the rabbi rested. Josef thought he would leave quickly before the doorway became jammed with people. At that moment, however, Eliel took his hand and started walking toward the front. They dodged back and forth through the crowd that was streaming in the opposite direction. People began talking excitedly, so that loud conversations echoed around the room. Josef’s head was spinning. What was Eliel doing? Where was he leading him? They seemed to be going toward the table at the front, where a small knot of people had gathered. Rabbi Scholomo was standing in the middle, shaking hands and smiling as people greeted him. Was Eliel going to introduce him? They stood on the side, waiting as people made small talk with the rabbi. Seeing the great man up close (though he looked kindly enough) caused Josef’s heart to beat faster. He became more and more nervous until it felt like his heart was in his throat. He could barely breathe. When all the other people had moved away, Eliel led the boy directly to the rabbi. The men spoke a few words in French which Josef did not understand, although he thought he heard his name mentioned. The rabbi turned to him and said (in German), “So! You are the little Christian who speaks Hebrew! My friend Eliel told me about you.”

      Josef could not force a sound from his throat, so he nodded.

      “And how old are you, Josef?”

      Still he could not utter a word. He held up nine fingers.

      “It seems you are a silent scholar. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. I know many a scholar whose tongue outruns his knowledge.” The rabbi’s smiling eyes had a calming effect on the boy.

      Josef was finally able to speak. All in one breath, he said, “Do you


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