Chapter Two

Dovid woke early the next morning, firm in his resolve to assume the responsibilities of the man of the household. He decided to speak to Reb Yitzchok immediately after morning prayer, as they attended the same little neighborhood shtieble (informal house of worship). Though he was quite tired after his late night, still he jumped out of bed, poured water from the jug standing by his bedside into a cup and washed "negelvasser," rinsing each hand three times, in accordance with Jewish practice. He then grabbed his pants from under the mattress where he carefully placed them each night to preserve their creases.

Dovid was a handsome child. His big dark eyes lit his rosy face. Like his sister, he had inherited beautiful long eyelashes from his father. A high forehead, already marked by wrinkles due to hard learning of talmudical controversy, proclaimed his sharp intelligence. His black sidecurls and shaved head contrasted with the whiteness of his skin, and when kissing him goodnight, his mother felt that he still had the velvet skin of newborn baby. He was tall and well built, in all a healthy and lovable child.

The small bedroom looked neat and tidy. A red begonia in an earthenware pot gaily decorated by Ruth added a bright note to the simply furnished chamber. In the corner next to his bed, his father put up a few shelves to hold Dovid's holy books, many of them Bar Mitzvah presents. Dovid had painted his shelves in white which brought light into a dark corner. On the other side of the curtain which divided the room, were the beds of both his sisters and the big wardrobe containing all the family's clothes. Another row of shelves were presided over by Ruthie's rag doll, fully clothed in a hand-knitted skirt and jumper, bonnet and scarf, all made by Ruth. Yael had a drawer for her toys and games, which fitted snugly under her bed. When they were babies, there was the old-fashioned cradle with a long string. It had rocked at least four generations of prominent rabbinic figures: Moshe, his father, his grandfather, and great grandfather. The string, the most important part of it, was fastened to the belt of her father when studying, standing up in front of his stand, his swaying rocked the baby to sleep to the gentle humming of his father's learning. A truly wonderful initiation to the beauty of the holy Torah.

The children had their rota of bed making, sweeping and dusting. They kept the room and their belongings spotlessly clean and tidy.

Before leaving, Dovid went to the kitchen and heated some water. A strong wind swept through the streets of Jerusalem on this November morning, and it was a comfort to be warmed by a hot cup of coffee, before venturing out into the cold. He had a tight feeling in his throat and his eyes pricked when he remembered that it was his father who had always made the drinks; then hand in hand they had gone to prayers, like two good friends. Now he was alone, and his young shoulders sagged under this invisible but heavy burden of loneliness as he silently closed the door of the flat, and walked quietly to the Synagogue.

Truth to tell, the synagogue they attended on weekdays was not a grand place. It consisted of two large rooms knocked into one, the walls were whitewashed, and there were a number of tables and sturdy benches which had seen better days. Even the Oron Hakodesh, the Holy Ark housing the Torah scrolls, was only a pine cupboard crowned by the Tablets of the Law and covered by a velvet curtain. There were holy books on the tables and on shelves high up on the walls, running right round the rooms. You could see by the state of the books that they were being continuously used, there was nothing here for show, it was a true house of prayer and study.

v The wealthy didn't frequent this synagogue. The congregation was comprised of small shopkeepers, artisans, cobblers, tailors, a doctor and a few young Torah scholars who were either studying in a Kollel (post-graduate program) or teaching in a Yeshiva like Dovid's father. Some old men who had retired long ago now spent the greater part of the day studying the Torah, praying and reading Tehilim (the Psalms). All dressed simply in their weekday clothes and some of them, especially among the old ones, wore clothes grown shabby and shiny with age.

The thirty to forty people who attended knew each other well. Many were good friends whose parents and grandparents had lived in this quarter of Jerusalem for a hundred years, and they all shared a love of Torah and learning handed down from generation to generation. From birth they had listened to the music of study in their homes. As they grew older they studied it themselves; their brains were sharpened and honed by the Talmud's wisdom.

Through centuries of persecution and misery, death and destruction, when they had been driven like cattle from country to country, when they had been robbed of all they possessed, their ancestors had carried with them, in their hearts and minds their most precious treasure, the Holy Torah. It was the source of their life, the oxygen of their world, they would never give it up! Inquisition, nazism, communism, would never erase the Torah. How foolish in their eyes was the Jew who imagined he could survive without the Torah. However hard they worked to earn a living, the Torah and its study remained the center of their lives and the delight of their days.

There was, for example, the grocer who shut his shop punctually at three o'clock in the afternoon and spent the rest of the day and a good part of the night with a group of his friends; or a young man who worked the early shift at the central post office, starting at five o'clock in the morning and finishing around noon. After a hasty lunch, he sat for a solid six hours in profound study of the most difficult passages of the Talmud. At any time of the day or half the night, groups of people, both young and old, could be found pursuing their study of the Torah, within the walls of this austere and simple house of prayer.

One of the most outstanding and unusual characters in this Shtiebel was Reb Yitzchok the tailor. A little elderly man with rounded shoulders, his back bent from many years of leaning his sewing, a straggling yellowish white beard covered most of his face. An old-fashioned pair of wire-rimmed spectacles obscured his blue eyes. Altogether not a very impressive figure. But those who knew him considered him to be a remarkable and in some respects a great man. Reb Yitzchok was not as learned as the rest of the congregation. He had started working as a child of six, about sixty years ago, as he came of a very poor family. His father was paralyzed after a stroke and he and his brothers started working in order to avoid starvation. He had not received the Jewish education in school and Yeshiva, the lucky children of our time receive as a matter of course. He could follow the portion of the week in the Chumash and even read Rashi, he could listen to a lesson of Chaye Odom, a classical volume dealing with Jewish Laws and Customs of everyday life. As for the rest, the Talmud, Maimonides, the great Codes and their commentators were a closed book to him, literally. He had used up his young brain and body in the desperate pursuit of a livelihood, had eaten too little and worked too hard for too many years of his childhood and youth. He had neither the time nor the energy to develop his mind and intellect. He had, over the years, become an excellent tailor. His nimble fingers sewed to perfection and he made to measure clothes to fit even the most difficult figure. He opened his own little workshop in Mea Shearim and his reputation, spread by satisfied customers, brought him a large clientele of English and American tourists who brought him lengths of costly materials to be made into coats and suits of such elegance and fit that even the most famous tailors of Saville Row in London could not imitate. He also took the utmost care not to use linen thread or lining for woollen materials, which the Torah forbids us to wear. His religious customers could confidently rely on his word that a garment was "kosher."

Reb Yitzchok had by now a very comfortable livelihood. It would have been only natural for him to be jealous of all the learned men in the synagogue, to resent their good luck in having been able to study in their youth, and altogether to derogate the study and knowledge of Torah, to vaunt his self-made prosperity before his poor if learned neighbors.

What he did was just the opposite. He was outstanding in his respect and deference to Torah scholars young and old. In word and deed, he expressed his love of those who studied the Torah. He could sit with a beatific expression on his face listening to two young scholars debating a complicated point in the Talmud, his whole attitude reflecting the joy in his heart to be in a place and among people who studied the Torah.

He chose apprentices only from scholarly young men without experience, although he was now becoming so famous in his trade that experienced tailors begged him to teach them his secrets. He patiently taught them, from the most elementary stage, for none of them had ever put a thread through the eye of a needle before; always with patience and without cross words. He started paying them wages as soon as they had learned a little of the trade, for he knew they were poor and in great need of money. When they had advanced sufficiently to work on their own, he helped them to find work or open their tailoring business, even going so far as sending them some of his own customers, for he always has more work than he could do.

The great sorrow in the life of Yitzchok and his wife Miriam was the absence of children. They had gone from doctor to doctor, tried all kinds of medicines and cures. They had visited all the Tzadikim, the truly righteous, of their time, praying, begging for a baby, but their marriage had remained barren. In her younger days, Miriam had bitterly reproached the Creator for refusing her the blessing He granted to the lowest creatures of this world, the ants and worms that crawl on the earth. As the years passed, they became resigned and accepted the Creator's inscrutable wisdom. A feeling of kinship with their friends and neighbors enabled them to take part in the family "simchas" (joyous lifecycle events), births, marriages, circumcisions and Bar Mitzvos, as if they were their own family celebrations. They became the grandfather and grandmother of many of the younger members of their community and were always ready to listen to their problems and help them out of their troubles.

Moshe Meyer always sat next to Reb Yitzchok at prayers and Dovid next to his father, on the other side. Now, the seat between him and Reb Yitzchok was empty. Dovid prayed with special fervor this morning, beseeching the Creator to give him strength to undertake the responsibility of leading his bereaved family of the depression and hopelessness into which they had sunk. When the children were about, his mother hid her feelings from them, but many a time at night he heard her sobbing brokenly and whispering chapters of Tehilim (Psalms). They could not continue in this way. He was going to speak to Reb Yitzchok after davening (prayers).

Before he had a chance to speak, Reb Yitzchok, who was folding up his Tallis (prayer shawl), turned to him. "How is your mother, Dovid? We want to visit you on Shabbos, to see the family but only if it will not disturb your mother."

"Reb Yitzchok, I also want to see you, I must speak to you about a very important matter. May I come to your shop after school today? It's very urgent!"

"Yes, my son, come and we will have a man to man talk for I can see in your face that you have grown up a lot lately. Circumstances can force us to be older than our years, as I know from my own youth. I will expect you about four o'clock, my wife will serve us coffee and cake."

"I must speak to you privately. I could not speak in front of your wife."

"Don't worry, child, she is always too busy to sit down. We will be quite alone! Hurry home now for breakfast or you will be late for school." With a pat on his head and a cheery wave of his hand, he sent Dovid on his way.

The day passed quickly and at five minutes to four Dovid was entering Reb Yitzcok's narrow-fronted shop, which was surprisingly deep. There was a counter with shelves of cloths behind work tables and sewing machines, a steam press and dummies dressed in sleeveless suits and coats. Young men sat busily sewing and pressing. Yitzchok himself was helping a man, who was obviously an American tourist, try on an overcoat. Watching this wave of activity, Dovid began to doubt if the busy tailor would even have the time and the patience to initiate him into the mysteries of tailoring. Reb Yitzchok called out to him, looking above his wire-rimmed spectacles. "Sit down on the stool over there. I will be ready in a few minutes." Dovid sat biting his nails. He had not told his mother that he had actually spoken to Reb Yitzchok and he hoped he would not be home too late.

"Come Dovid," said Reb Yitzchok as he lead him into the back room where the table was set for tea. "I have had a hard day, a rush job to finish the coat for Reb Aharon who is returning to America tomorrow. A nice cup of coffee will cheer us up. Now, how can I help you young man?" he asked, as he busied himself pouring coffee into their cups.

Dovid had prepared in his mind a reasoned speech to explain his unusual request to be taken on as a part-time apprentice, when it came to the point, he was too embarrassed and just burst out: "I would like to work, Reb Yitzchok, I must work. I am willing to learn if only you are ready to teach me. I already know how to sew buttons and to make a hem. I learnt by watching when mother taught Ruthie sewing."

"But Dovid," said Reb Yitzchok astonished and taken by surprise. "You must go to school and you are still so young. I remember your Bar Mitzvah only a few months ago."

"I cannot wait any longer, I must start earning some money and help at home. I know that Mama is desperately worried. Our savings won't last long. We are expecting a baby and Mama will not be able to teach in school full-time. Ruth is still completely lost, as for Yael, she keeps asking every night, 'when is Father coming back to rock me to sleep while he learns?' Reb Yitzchok, I feel it in my heart that I must act, I must do something. I am the only man in the family and I cannot sit idle doing nothing. I can't stand it! I can't..."

Seeing the child on the verge of tears Reb Yitzchok quietly picked up the plate of cakes offering it to Dovid: "Eat my child, make a Brocha (blessing) over the cake. I understand your feelings and sympathize with you. I will do all I can to help, but not at the cost of your education and learning. You must not stay away from school."

"I only wanted to work after school finished, from three o'clock till you close. Then I will do my homework. I will also get up an hour early in the morning to study Talmud. My studies won't suffer, I promise you and I will be so happy helping Mummy."

Reb Yitzchok sat for some time in silence, his eyes shut, his old hand stroking his beard, there came into his mind vivid memories of his harsh youth. Finally suppressing a sigh he said: "All right, Dovid, you may come tomorrow at three and we will start you as the youngest apprentice I have ever had. You have a clever head on your shoulders, a good pair of hands and the will to succeed. It will be good for you and your family." Hardly taking time to thank him, Dovid rushed home with a lighter heart, but Reb Yitzchok continued pacing up and down the room sighing for his lost youth, the unhappiness and misery of his friends and neighbors, the tragedy of the Meyer family, the tragedy of war.