Czech.
It was the only freestanding building in the Yidnshtot , the only structure that did not seem to be squeezed against a sooty tenement with a couple of broken windows.
“So how did a Polish farmboy like you end up meeting a big city girl like Reyzl Rozansky?” the rabbi asked.
I woke up as if from a bad dream. We were still standing across the street from the Jewish Town Hall.
“At the fair in Kraków,” I said. “I was collecting books for the poor students, and the Rozanskys were shopping around for a suitable match for their daughter. Rich or poor, it didn’t matter, as long as the young man had some yikhes .”
“And you had some yikhes ? How did you manage that?”
“They saw one of Rabbi Lindermeyer’s disciples speaking to me in the open market, and that was enough to satisfy them.”
Rabbi Loew nodded solemnly.
I would always remember my old master, the great philosopher of Kraków, as a logical and forceful teacher who was brave enough to stand up in a crowded room and tell the authorities precisely what they didn’t want to hear. And I suddenly found myself wishing that I could summon the spirit of my old master to help us argue this case before the Town Council.
“And then?”
“And then Reyzl came with me to Slonim and we shared the holy fire that holds the material of creation together.”
It seemed to be taking forever to cross the street.
The Jewish Town Council met in a cavernous room with a high-vaulted ceiling and rows of white benches for the plaintiffs, their supporters, and anybody else who happened to wander in from the cold. Three judges with gray beards sat on a raised platform, listening to an old woman plead for public assistance while the community secretary transcribed everything with a silver pen. She had no family left, her eyes were weak and her hands too gnarled from de cades of piecework to continue supporting herself as a seamstress.
The community secretary sat at his little desk, waiting for the woman to say something he hadn’t heard a hundred times before.
She asked for a few kreuzers a week from the community fund to keep her out of the hekdesh .
The secretary shook his head wearily. Nobody wanted to go to the poor-house.
The judges brought the proceedings to a close, and Rabbis Joseph, Aaron, and Hayyot were about to vote two-to-one against the old woman, when several of the spectators rose to their feet in a customary show of respect when they realized that Rabbi Loew had entered the hall. Rabbi Joseph took a good look at Rabbi Loew and switched his vote. The decision stood two-to-one in the old woman’s favor.
Rabbi Hayyot called for the next case. His eyes were gray and watery, his face drained. As the outgoing Chief Rabbi of Prague , he looked like he was counting the days till he could retire from all this.
The court secretary consulted the docket and called out the name of Reb Bernstein, a jewelry merchant specializing in Bohemian amber.
Rabbi Loew nudged me, and I stepped forward and addressed the bench.
“Your honors, forgive the disruption, but we have an urgent matter to bring before the kehileh —”
“Really? Well you can wait your turn. I’m next,” said Reb Bernstein.
“Submit your names and they will be put at the end of the docket,” said the secretary.
“Your honors, we can’t wait until the end of the day—”
Reb Bernstein said, “Neither can I, mister. Who do you think you
It was the only freestanding building in the Yidnshtot , the only structure that did not seem to be squeezed against a sooty tenement with a couple of broken windows.
“So how did a Polish farmboy like you end up meeting a big city girl like Reyzl Rozansky?” the rabbi asked.
I woke up as if from a bad dream. We were still standing across the street from the Jewish Town Hall.
“At the fair in Kraków,” I said. “I was collecting books for the poor students, and the Rozanskys were shopping around for a suitable match for their daughter. Rich or poor, it didn’t matter, as long as the young man had some yikhes .”
“And you had some yikhes ? How did you manage that?”
“They saw one of Rabbi Lindermeyer’s disciples speaking to me in the open market, and that was enough to satisfy them.”
Rabbi Loew nodded solemnly.
I would always remember my old master, the great philosopher of Kraków, as a logical and forceful teacher who was brave enough to stand up in a crowded room and tell the authorities precisely what they didn’t want to hear. And I suddenly found myself wishing that I could summon the spirit of my old master to help us argue this case before the Town Council.
“And then?”
“And then Reyzl came with me to Slonim and we shared the holy fire that holds the material of creation together.”
It seemed to be taking forever to cross the street.
The Jewish Town Council met in a cavernous room with a high-vaulted ceiling and rows of white benches for the plaintiffs, their supporters, and anybody else who happened to wander in from the cold. Three judges with gray beards sat on a raised platform, listening to an old woman plead for public assistance while the community secretary transcribed everything with a silver pen. She had no family left, her eyes were weak and her hands too gnarled from de cades of piecework to continue supporting herself as a seamstress.
The community secretary sat at his little desk, waiting for the woman to say something he hadn’t heard a hundred times before.
She asked for a few kreuzers a week from the community fund to keep her out of the hekdesh .
The secretary shook his head wearily. Nobody wanted to go to the poor-house.
The judges brought the proceedings to a close, and Rabbis Joseph, Aaron, and Hayyot were about to vote two-to-one against the old woman, when several of the spectators rose to their feet in a customary show of respect when they realized that Rabbi Loew had entered the hall. Rabbi Joseph took a good look at Rabbi Loew and switched his vote. The decision stood two-to-one in the old woman’s favor.
Rabbi Hayyot called for the next case. His eyes were gray and watery, his face drained. As the outgoing Chief Rabbi of Prague , he looked like he was counting the days till he could retire from all this.
The court secretary consulted the docket and called out the name of Reb Bernstein, a jewelry merchant specializing in Bohemian amber.
Rabbi Loew nudged me, and I stepped forward and addressed the bench.
“Your honors, forgive the disruption, but we have an urgent matter to bring before the kehileh —”
“Really? Well you can wait your turn. I’m next,” said Reb Bernstein.
“Submit your names and they will be put at the end of the docket,” said the secretary.
“Your honors, we can’t wait until the end of the day—”
Reb Bernstein said, “Neither can I, mister. Who do you think you
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