The third man Barel Katz, a timid widower, rotund and short with frontal baldness and thick glassed, added, “The Czar has put every Jewish father in a position of martyrdom like the ancient Jews who were forced to convert on the spot or die. Many preferred death rather then turn their backs on God. They went to their graves with the Shema on their lips. I feel like I must make that choice soon. They will soon take some of our sons. We’re all poor men. Where do we run? What do we do?”
The three men now stared at the rabbi, and it was clear to him that their intensity spoke of a single mindedness. Their serious, determined faces manifested the frustrations imposed upon them by an autocratic regime. Limited by opportunity and forced into poverty, Prushkin, Berganoff, and Katz could be the spark that might set off a fuse leading to an explosion, which would spread like wildfire through the entire Jewish Community of Tiktin. Worse yet, such an explosion could involve the entire Pale.
The rabbi responded in a calm voice to control what he felt was an angry consensus amongst his “three wise men” as he called them. They were respected and powerful enough to spark the entire community.
“What we are going through we have gone through for hundreds of years,” the rabbi said. “Our ancestors fled Germany after being blamed for the Plague. By a stroke of good luck, the Polish king had a Jewish girlfriend, so he invited the Jews to live in Poland. And now we’ve become part of Russia, so we live under Russian laws that discriminate against Jews. They have a massive military force. We have a Torah. Their guns could shred the Torah in seconds, but in spite of that, the Torah has a force within it that will triumph over any nation with guns. The Torah has resided an eternity in the mind of God, and it will continue to reside there forever, so we take comfort in the fact that we will triumph, but we will not triumph if we all elect martyrdom, for who’ll be left to teach Torah? It must remain a living, breathing document for all to study rather then a relic of a bygone people.
“Everyone can understand how you men feel. Can we resist? We have no army. Even if we decided to take to the forests and fight, we have no weapons. We are up against one of the largest armies in the world that could destroy us in days. Oh, how happy that would make the Czar. That would solve his problem in no time at all. Listen, God tells us that no one can oppress a people for too long. Things will change. Be patient. As I stand here before God, I tell you this as fact.” His eyes closed, his head bowed and his arms lie still at his sides.
The men remained silent until the rabbi opened his eyes, and then Katz said, “I want to believe what you say, rabbi, but are we just pawns to the Czar? Must we sit by while they sacrifice our sons? How long must we wait for a miracle to occur and bring us justice? It’ll be too late for our sons when that happens.”
“We must all refuse. No man should allow his son to go,” moaned Berganoff.
“Then they’ll all be taken by force, and you will be killed. What will have been accomplished?” said the rabbi with emotion.
“I’m hearing from you that it’s hopeless, and there’s nothing that we can do,” said Katz.
“As things are now, I have no solution for your sons and mine. I have no power to change things here in Tiktin or in Russia. I raise my face to God to ask for divine intervention. I appeal to you all not to do anything violent at this time, for you know the consequences. Your lives will be forfeit and your sons will become Czarist soldiers quicker then they otherwise would have.”
“I didn’t come here expecting any answers, Rabbi. I know that if we don’t meet the quota of recruits into the Czar’s army, we’ll all suffer as a community. We are but puppets on a string pulled by the Czar. I cry out in helplessness. It’s better to be dead than to be a slave,” cried Prushkin, his voice rising and his face more distorted with grief.
“If you continue to think that way you’ll surely die. To stay alive we must look to our faith for guidance. We live a life of beauty and Torah. There is some hope. Don’t forget, not every twelve-year-old will go into service. Our children may escape their fate. There may be a change in policy. A new Czar may take over who will have a better sense of fairness. Even some of the gentiles say this practice of stealing our children is unfair. So, we must work with this group and see if we can change things. That’s our best and most realistic hope.”
“You’re a dreamer, Rabbi, if you think that anyone will work with us to change things. The penalty would be death,” said Katz.
“Remember the story of Moses. His task was far greater then anything we could envision, but he prevailed. He did not try to change a country; he tried to change a world! Go now. Do nothing foolish. We’ll talk more later.”
The three men left and the rabbi sat alone at the table. When Anna heard the men leaving, she came into the kitchen and sat down next to him. She took one look at his serious expression of concern and left the room.
After several minutes, he walked into the next room, formerly occupied by his daughters, now a study for him and sewing room for his wife. She occupied one corner, but most of the room was a library filled with books stacked on homemade bookcases. He sat on an upholstered chair and thought of his father, Meir Tepperovitch who had died eleven years ago.
CHAPTER 4
Meir Tepperovitch had also been a rabbi. He ministered to a large group in an adjacent town. He also served as an arbitrator for his parishioners. In a larger city, three judges, all rabbis, served on a panel known as a Beit Din, to arbitrate any minor civil disputes within the Jewish community. The plaintiff chose one rabbi, the defendant chose another rabbi, and the two rabbis then chose the third.
In Meir Tepperovitch’s town he served alone and had the respect of the entire community, for his followers considered him a tzaddik—one of the righteous—capable of complete unity with the Creator. Such a tzaddik was a man whose human foibles did not exist in consciousness, thus allowing direct communication with God.
In his court, he handled all minor matters and only referred to a larger Beit Din when he thought the problem might establish a new principle. He felt that under such circumstance a consensus from three judges would be required.
When his son, Shepsel, was ordained a rabbi, he fasted for one day and spent a day of prayer in thankfulness to the Almighty.
One cold, cloudy winter day, as Meir was worshiping, there was a revolt of Poles in the region. Russian troops ruthlessly suppressed it. It was not the Jewish community that revolted, but the Jewish shtetl area was the prime target for the looting that often accompanied such actions. Fights broke out between the outnumbered Jewish citizens and the armed looters who entered houses and stole or destroyed furnishings and other valuables. Many Jews sustained injuries.
Rabbi Meir determined the violence was getting out of hand. He searched in vain for local police, but they were conspiculously absent. The looters shot him in the abdomen while he was attempting to protect the life and property of some of his parishioners. They carried him dying to his bed. He asked for a prayer book. He also requested that they notify his son in Tiktin. Shepsel rushed to his father’s side.
As he entered the room, he saw his father lying comfortably propped up by pillows. He had a smile on his face, discerned even through his grey beard and mustache. With the noise of Shepsel’s entry, Meir’s eyes opened and his smile widened.
“Ahh, Shepsel, our Father is ready for me, and I go with peace and love in my heart for you, your family, and the Almighty. Then Rabbi Meir’s head turned ninety degrees first in one direction and then the other.
“What do you see, father?”
“I see the divine glow. I see infinity. I see the entry into God’s kingdom. I see peace and love.”
Shepsel placed his hands over his eyes and prayed a silent prayer.
Meir