The Rabbi of Worms. M. K. Hammond
holy; for I the Eternal your God am holy. Ye shall revere, every man, his mother and his father, and my Sabbaths shall ye keep: I am the Lord your God. Ye shall not turn unto the idols, and molten gods ye shall not make unto yourselves: I am the Lord your God. And when ye reap the harvest of your land, thou shalt not wholly reap the corners of thy field, neither shalt thou gather up the gleanings of thy harvest. And thou shalt not glean thy vineyard, and the single grapes that drop in thy vineyard shalt thou not gather up; for the poor and the stranger shalt thou leave them: I am the Lord your God. Ye shall not steal; neither shall ye deny another’s property in your hands, nor lie to one another. And ye shall not swear by my name falsely, and thou shalt not thus profane the name of thy God: I am the Lord. Thou shalt not withhold anything from thy neighbor, nor rob him: there shall not abide with thee the wages of him that is hired, through the night until morning. Thou shalt not curse the deaf, nor put a stumbling-block before the blind; but thou shalt be afraid of thy God: I am the Lord.”
Mosche stopped reciting. “Okay, that’s enough. Do you have any questions?”
“What are ‘gleanings’?”
“Just bits and pieces of crops farmers leave in the fields for poor people to pick up.”
Josef remembered the times he and his mother had gone into the fields when their food supply ran low. He asked no more questions.
Mosche lifted the tallit off Josef’s head, folded it carefully, and placed it back in the cabinet. “Next comes the fun part,” he said. “We go to the teacher’s house to taste the sweetness of the law.”
The children followed Jews’ Alley until they came to an old gate in the city wall. They went through the gate and walked a few hundred paces along the outside of the wall until they reached a small hut set against the stonework.
“This is your teacher’s house,” said Mosche proudly. “I don’t really live here, but I keep my things here.”
“Did you build it?”
“Not exactly. It was a shelter for shepherds, I think. But it was falling down, and I fixed it up.”
The children entered the hut. A thick layer of fresh straw had been laid on the floor. Josef inhaled deeply the sweet aromas of the place. Was it the straw he smelled, or something else? Perhaps something freshly baked? In the corner he saw several rough, wooden boxes with various items stacked on top, a wash basin, some clothes, and plates of food.
Mosche pointed at the wash basin. “First you wash your hands and your face. Then put on a clean shirt and we’ll start the second part of the ceremony.”
Josef did as he was told.
“Okay,” Mosche said. “Now I’m going to put honey on my slate, and you have to lick it off and say the verse that’s written on the slate. Today we’ll use ordinary language, but later you’ll learn it in Hebrew.” He dipped a stick into a small jar of honey and smeared it on a corner of the slate. “Now lick the honey and say these words after me: ‘How much sweeter to my palate are thy sayings than honey to my mouth!’”
Josef licked the honey and repeated, “How much sweeter to my palate are thy sayings than honey to my mouth.”
“Good. Miriam will help us with the next part. You’re supposed to eat three cakes kneaded in honey by a virgin, and also some eggs and fruit.”
“What’s a virgin?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it means a young woman or girl. Anyway, my mother baked these cakes, and she’s a good cook. Miriam will dip them in honey and feed them to you. Are you ready?”
“Yup.”
Miriam picked up the cakes, dipped them in the jar of honey, and stuffed them, one after another, into Josef’s mouth. Meanwhile, Mosche peeled three hard-cooked eggs and presented them to Josef, along with an apple and some blackberries.
“You eat while I say more verses.”
“Can Miriam have some too?”
Mosche nodded and began reciting. “And he said unto me, Son of man, feed thy belly, and fill thy bowels with this roll that I am giving unto thee. And I ate it; and it was in my mouth like honey in sweetness. Open thou my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law. Oh how do I love thy law! all the day it is my meditation. A lamp unto my feet is thy word, and a light unto my path. The opening of thy words giveth light, it giveth understanding unto the simple.”
After Mosche finished his recitation, he joined the others in eating the berries that remained. When they were done, he said, “Now change back into your own shirt. For the last part of the ceremony, we go down to the river.”
“I’m not allowed to get in the water,” said Josef.
“Don’t worry. We’ll just go to the edge and look.”
The children left the hut and walked down gentle slopes on a narrow pathway through fields and vineyards. They arrived at a promontory overlooking the wide river. A few small fishing boats were anchored against the steady current. Mosche explained to Josef that Torah is like water. “It feeds us, and refreshes us, and gives us life. Do you have any questions?”
Josef shook his head.
“Okay. Then I will say one more verse and the ceremony will be over. ‘When Israel was yet young, then I loved him, and out of Egypt did I call my son.’ That’s the end. Now you’re ready to be a scholar.”
Josef beamed. The children stayed at the river bank, dangling their legs off the rock and watching fishermen cast their nets from stationary boats. Occasionally a large transport barge floated past, carried along by powerful currents. They said little to one another, but Josef could feel a strong bond growing between himself and Mosche. Here was a boy who loved what he loved and thought as he thought. He had never yet had such a friend. It made him feel he belonged, like he had a purpose and a goal other than just hauling water day after day. He hoped some day he could be a real scholar and know as many verses from Scripture as Mosche.
After a time, the children made their way back through the fields, entered the city gate, and passed into the Jewish quarter. Mosche and Miriam left the main road and went home, while Josef continued along Jews’ Alley until he reached Market Street. He turned toward his house, feeling happy and confident. He would be a scholar! He would read many books and learn about everything under the sun! His world seemed much larger than it had before.
Walking along Market Street, he heard a familiar whistle. All at once, three boys jumped out and stood in his path. Josef stopped, looked up at them, and took a deep breath. When they started taunting him, he ignored them. He kept walking forward, not hearing a word they said, and barely noticed their pokes and jabs.
•
One morning it took longer than usual for Mosche and Josef to make their deliveries. They had already completed the daily lesson and were talking about other things. Suddenly Josef became serious and turned to his friend. “Do you know what a bastard is?”
“Yes. I think it’s a person whose mother and father are not married.”
“But what if a person has no father?”
“Everybody has a father. It’s impossible to be born without one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, a woman has to lie with a man before she can have a baby. Whoever it is she lies with, he’s the father.”
“So, if my mother is not married, that means I’m a bastard.”
Mosche was silent for a minute. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
The boys walked on without speaking, until Mosche said, “Listen. Our great rabbi Scholomo says that a man who teaches is like a father, and his students are called children. That makes me your father.”
“You can’t be my father. You’re just a kid, like me.”
“Not