Fixer, The - Bernard Malamud [106]
“A proud man is deaf and blind. How can he hear God? How can he see Him?”
“Who’s proud if I ever was? What have I got to be proud of? That I was born without parents? I never made a decent living? My barren wife ran off with a goy? When a boy was murdered in Kiev, out of three million Jews in Russia they arrested me? So I’m not proud. If God exists I’ll gladly listen to him. If he doesn’t feel like talking let him open the door so I can walk out. I have nothing. From nothing you get nothing. If he wants from me he has to give first. If not a favor at least a sign.”
“Don’t ask for signs, ask for mercy.”
“I’ve asked for everything and got nothing.” The fixer, after a sigh, spoke close to the peephole. “ ‘In the beginning was the word,’ but it wasn’t his. That’s the way I look at it now. Nature invented itself and also man. Whatever was there was there to begin with. Spinoza said so. It sounds fantastic but it must be true. When it comes down to basic facts, either God is our invention and can’t do anything about it, or he’s a force in Nature but not in history. A force is not a father. He’s a cold wind and try and keep warm. To tell the truth, I’ve written him off as a dead loss.”
“Yakov,” said Shmuel, squeezing both hands, “don’t talk so fast. Don’t look for God in the wrong place, look in the Torah, the law. That’s where to look, not in bad books that poison your thoughts.”
“As for the law it was invented by man, is far from perfect, and what good is it to me if the Tsar has no use for it? If God can’t give me simple respect I’ll settle for justice. Uphold the Law! Destroy the Tsar with a thunderbolt! Free me from prison!”
“God’s justice is for the end of time.”
“I’m not so young any more, I can’t wait that long. Neither can the Jews running from pogroms. We’re dealing nowadays with the slaughter of large numbers and it’s getting worse. God counts in astronomy but where men are concerned all I know is one plus one. Shmuel, let’s drop this useless subject. What’s the sense of arguing through a little hole where you can barely see part of my face in the dark? Besides, it’s a short visit and we’re eating up time.”
“Yakov,” said Shmuel, “He invented light. He created the world. He made us both. The true miracle is belief. I believe in Him. Job said, ‘Though he slay me, yet will I trust in Him.’ He said more but that’s enough.”
“To win a lousy bet with the devil he killed off all the servants and innocent children of Job. For that alone I hate him, not to mention ten thousand pogroms. Ach, why do you make me talk fairy tales? Job is an invention and so is God. Let’s let it go at that.” He stared at the peddler with one eye. “I’m sorry I’m making you feel bad on your expensive time, Shmuel, but take my word for it, it’s not easy to be a freethinker in this terrible cell. I say this without pride or joy. Still, whatever reason a man has, he’s got to depend on.”
“Yakov,” said Shmuel, mopping his face with his blue handkerchief, “do me a favor, don’t close your heart. Nobody is lost to God if his heart is open.”
“What’s left of my heart is pure rock.”
“Also don’t forget repentance,” said Shmuel. “This comes first.”
Zhitnyak appeared in a great hurry. “That’s enough now, it’s time to go. Ten minutes is up but you talked longer.”
“It felt like two,” Shmuel said. “I was just about to say what’s on my heart.”
“Run, Shmuel,” Yakov urged, his mouth pressed to the peephole. “Do whatever you can to help me. Run to the newspapers and tell them the police have imprisoned an innocent man. Run to the rich Jews, to Rothschild if necessary. Ask for help, money, mercy, a good lawyer to defend me. Get me out of here before they lay me in my grave.”
Shmuel pulled a cucumber out of his pants pocket. “Here’s a little pickle I brought you.” He attempted to thrust it through the spy hole but Zhitnyak grabbed it.
“None of that,” the guard loudly whispered. “Don’t try any Jew tricks on me. Also you shut up,” he said to Yakov. “You’ve had your say and that’s enough now.