Mosche had continued teaching Josef. Already they had worked through most of the Hebrew alphabet, up to the letter tzadi. Mosche had taught him many words, most recently words that began with tzadi, like tzedaka. It was the duty of every Jew, Mosche said, to practice tzedaka, to give alms to the poor and show kindness to the needy. It sounded exactly like what Jesus said. Hadn’t his own mother told him that Jesus taught us to give alms to poor beggars? Father Matthias had said Jews were Christ-haters, but how could it be that Mosche would hate a man who taught tzedaka?
Suddenly Josef had an idea. He would ask Mosche if he hated Jesus. If Mosche said no, then they could still be friends. Maybe Father Matthias was wrong—maybe some Jews didn’t hate Jesus after all.
At their next meeting Josef brought up the subject cautiously. “What would you think of a Christian who did tzedaka?”
“Perhaps he studied Torah,” said Mosche, “and that would be a good thing.”
“What if he was also a teacher?”
“You know that many of our rabbis are great teachers. We respect them above all others.”
“Have you heard of someone called Jesus?”
“Yes, he was a Jew and a rabbi.”
Josef could not believe his ears. “Jesus was a Jew? Then how could you hate him?”
Mosche looked at Josef with a puzzled expression. He seemed to be thinking how best to respond. “Who said I hate Jesus? He was just a man who lived a long time ago. His followers did some crazy things, but that doesn’t mean I hate him.”
Josef, who had been holding his breath, exhaled. “I’m glad,” he said. “Now we can still be friends.”
Mosche shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s do our lesson.”
When Josef returned home that morning, his mother was waiting for him at the gate. She looked agitated. “Josef, I must speak to you right away.”
“What is it, Mutti?” Was she going to reprimand him for staying away too long in the mornings? Had she found out about his meetings with Mosche?
“You know times have been hard lately. Since the price of grain went up, everything else has been more expensive too.” She sighed. “After we pay the rent and buy sewing supplies, we have barely enough left for food.”
Josef was relieved to know the source of his mother’s anxiety. “It’s all right, Mutti. We’ll gather more this year after the harvest. I’ll stay longer in the fields, and fill more baskets and carry more loads.”
“But it will be two months before harvest season is here. I’ve found a way to get a few more pennies each week. We’ll rent out the back room to a boarder. There’ll be less space for you and me, but it can’t be helped. I’ve already moved my sleeping mat to your corner by the fireplace, and I found another stool to put at the table. He’ll be taking most of his meals with us.”
“Who?”
“The boarder. That’s why I wanted to talk to you right away. He’s already moved in. His name is Joakim.”
Josef followed his mother across the courtyard and up the stairway. Once inside, he saw a middle-aged man with stringy hair and stubble on his chin sitting on a stool at the table. The man glanced up at them as they entered.
“Joakim, this is my son Josef.”
Joakim grunted.
She addressed him again. “Our usual breakfast is porridge, but I put a bit of sausage over the fire for you this morning.”
The man picked up his spoon. As soon as a bowl was placed in front of him, he began scooping large quantities into his mouth. His bowl was half empty before Josef and his mother began eating. Porridge and sausage disappeared together while Josef looked on wistfully. He wished he could have had just the smallest bit of sausage in his bowl.
Joakim wiped his mouth with his sleeve and eyed Josef’s mother. He rose from the table, picked up his satchel, and went out, saying he would be back for dinner. Josef waited a few minutes and then said, “Mutti, I don’t like him.”
“Well, I don’t like him either, but we need the money.”
“I wish he wouldn’t live here.”
“We really need the money.”
•
The following Sunday Josef had agreed to meet Mosche on Market Street, near the entrance to Jews’ Alley. Customarily on Sunday afternoons, his mother went across town to visit her elderly aunt, and Josef was allowed to play with his friends during that time. He was glad to get away from his house now that Joakim lived there. The man spent his leisure hours snoring in the back room or loitering in the courtyard, and Josef found his company disagreeable.
Today was the day Mosche had chosen for the ceremony to initiate him as a new student. Josef did not know quite what to expect, although his friend had told him he would wear special clothes and eat special food. Josef arrived early at the place they were to meet. He stood at the corner observing Jews coming and going along the alley. He had never entered the street or paid much attention to the people who lived there, but now he could see they looked no different from the people he knew. Many of the women wore scarves and some of the men had beards, but these adornments were not uncommon in the city.
When Mosche walked up a few minutes later, he was holding a small child by the hand. “Sorry I’m late. This is my sister Miriam. I forgot how slow she walks.”
Miriam looked up at Josef with wide, blue eyes. He was immediately struck by her intelligent, piercing gaze that seemed as if it might see into a person’s soul.
“Is she going to have a ceremony, too?”
“No, girls don’t do that,” said her brother. “But we need a female person to help with your ceremony. The first thing we do is go to the synagogue.”
The children walked less than a block down Jews’ Alley before turning into a courtyard on the right side of the street. A three-story rectangular building stood before them. Josef noticed round arches over the doors and windows, similar to most of the churches he had seen. But the synagogue had no tall spires like a church—its appearance was simple and sturdy. The building and the courtyard were both made of stone, but quite different from each other. The rough-hewn stones of the courtyard, grey and of fairly uniform size, had been laid side-by-side on the bare ground, making an uneven surface. The synagogue stone was smoother and warmer-looking, consisting of pinkish-brown blocks of varying sizes, held together by white mortar. Large, powerful corner blocks and finely cut stones around the windows and doors made the building look interesting and beautiful.
The children entered through heavy wooden doors with panel decorations. Once inside, Josef saw more pink stone in the floor, along the lower part of the walls, and in columns rising from the center of the room. The upper walls and ceiling were whitewashed, and that, together with large windows of clear glass, gave the synagogue a bright, airy feeling, not like the dark, gloomy interiors of churches.
Mosche went first to a small cabinet at the back of the room. He took out a four-cornered, wool cloth with stripes across it and fringes on two sides. “This is a tallit,” he said. “You wear it for this part of the ceremony.”
Mosche wrapped it around Josef’s head and draped the ends over his shoulders. He took Josef by the hand and led him to the other end of the room. Against the wall was a table with a silver lamp and a large, decorated box resting on it. “Here at the east wall, we keep the Torah scrolls in a wooden box called the aron. That lamp is kept burning whenever the scrolls are in the aron so we know they’re there. Now we’re supposed to read verses from the law, but since I’m not allowed to touch the scrolls, I’ll say some verses I know by heart.”
Assuming