Exodus - Leon Uris [113]
On Saturday, Simon Rabinsky prayed and meditated and spoke with his sons and reviewed their lessons and learnings and discussed religion and philosophy.
As the sun set ending the Sabbath, Simon sang the song of the ghetto with Rachel, Yakov, and Jossi: “Rejoice to Israel ... banish despair.”
With the day over he returned to the realities of his bitter life. In the dingy cellar he called home and shop, Simon Rabinsky would crouch over his workbench in the candlelight, with his wrinkled hands drive a knife deftly through leather. Simon then said the same lament that had been said by Jews since their captivity in Babylon....
“If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning ... let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.”
There was solace in prayer, and Simon Rabinsky was a believer among men. But even one so devout could not shut his eyes to the misery around and about him. “How long, O Lord ... how long ...?” he would ask. “How long must we live in this abysmal darkness?” And then his heart would grow light and he would become exalted as he repeated his favorite passage of the Passover Prayer—“Next year in Jerusalem.”
Next year in Jerusalem? Would it ever come? Would the Messiah ever come to take them back ...?
Chapter Three
YAKOV AND JOSSI WALKED HOME from the seminary. Jossi’s head was bowed; he was deep in thought, wondering about the meaning of certain passages of the Torah he had studied that afternoon. Young Yakov danced around on his toes flinging rocks at various objects in the street. He always carried a pocket full of rocks in case they ran into some bullies.
As they approached the corner near home, Yakov grabbed Jossi’s wrist. “There is going to be another meeting tonight in Hacohen’s shop,” he said.
“I heard all about it,” Jossi said.
“Will you go this time?”
“No.”
“You should go tonight,” Yakov said; “there is going to be a real Bilu from Palestine to speak.”
Jossi’s heart pounded! A real Bilu from Palestine! How he would love to see and hear someone who had actually been to Palestine. Secretly Jossi envied his younger brother, who had been sneaking off to Lovers of Zion meetings. His curiosity was aroused by this new organization which spoke of the defense of the ghetto and a return to the Holy Land. A real Bilu! No—he would not yield to temptation—never so long as his father objected to the Lovers of Zion.
They turned the corner and entered the shop, first kissing the mezuzah, a tiny prayer scroll nailed to the doorpost. The place smelled strongly of leather. Simon looked up from his workbench and smiled.
“Hello, Papa,” they both said quickly, and drew a curtain over the alcove which served as their bedroom in one corner of the shop. Simon knew by their manner that they had been discussing something in secret and he also knew full well what young Yakov had been up to, but he did not say a word. The boys must have their fling, Simon thought—I will not impose my will on them in this matter nor will I speak to them unless they speak to me first.
Simon could be considered among the more fortunate Jews of the ghetto. His family was in good health and he had a trade which allowed him to exist, however meagerly. The mortality rate of Jews in the Pale was more than twice that of the rest of the population of Russia.
Not only the Jews were near starvation. Most of Russia, especially the peasantry, hovered on the brink of destitution. The country wallowed in the backwash of feudalism, refused to industrialize, and was exploited by the aristocracy.
Bread, land, and reform movements sprang up all over the nation. Because their own plight was the worst, there were always Jews to be found in any organization which strived to alleviate the wretched conditions.
Unrest mounted throughout Russia. An undercurrent which spelled revolution was brewing. Only then did Czar Alexander II institute some long overdue reforms. His first