Satan in Goray - Isaac Bashevis Singer [51]
8
Golden Jackets and Marzipan Candy
The month of Elul. Each morning crowds of women descended to the cemetery to bid the dead farewell; the dead would not reach the holy land as soon as the living; when the Messiah came they would pass to the Land of Israel by way of underground caverns. For days the women lay prostrate on the graves, screaming and wailing, begging the forgiveness of the dead for deserting them, explaining that the day of resurrection was near, calling upon them to intercede for their living kin and neighbors in the Hereafter. The wealthy cut wicks the length of the graves of their beloved, to make candles for the study house. The poor could only weep, and the graves were wet with their tears. Even the children were brought, and they played among the tombstones. It seemed as if the living and the dead dwelt together in the cemetery, and the gypsies who had pitched their tents close by marveled at the sight. As for the gentiles, they were delighted, believing that they would inherit all that the Jews abandoned. In the study house the ram's horn was sounded, and Reb Godel Chasid trembled at each blast, for each might be the one that announced the Messiah. Too anxious to remain at home, he paced restlessly outside. For several days a cloud had hovered in the sky to the east of Goray. Evenings, it elongated, taking on the shape of an enormous fish; mornings it was aflame, a burning red, and afternoons it seemed a ship with silver sails, drawing nearer and nearer. Reb Godel and the other members of the sect were certain this was the pillar of cloud mentioned in the holy scriptures; but they spoke of this only among themselves in hushed tones, so that the people might not become excited. The women shook their heads piously, unable to keep their eyes away from that part of the sky; all seemed to feel that at such a moment silence was best. But the days came and went, and still there was no miracle. As the High Holy Day grew nearer, Goray grew quieter and quieter. It was as if the inhabitants of the town had deserted it one by one, or had gone into hiding. The curtains of the houses were drawn; here and there shutters were bolted. The shops were either closed or were tended by children. The market was empty; the sand in the market place was hot as in a desert, and nettles grew at the edge of the circle. The whole town seemed to be holding its breath. When people met they discoursed in whispers, and they avoided each other's eyes. In this hour of eclipse they seemed to be dazzled. Only three days remained before the eve of the High Holy Day, and according to all calculations this was the day on which the great blast was to be heard. But the sun set--and nothing had occurred. Nor had the people of Goray prepared for the holy days. Children and adults went barefoot and in tatters; there was no flour with which to bake the bread for the holy days; there was no fish or honey. Reb Gedaliya was sought to explain the significance of this, but it was discovered that he had gone to commune in the hills. As for Rechele, she had been in a coma for several days, and Chinkele would permit no one to see her. At the last moment runners had been sent out to the surrounding villages to buy the most necessary articles. But they had not as yet returned. The unpainted houses huddled together, their roofs torn and their interiors visible: dusty attics full of cobwebs and rubbish. That summer the people of Goray had destroyed their most valuable possessions: they had ripped up floors and dismembered chests and shelves. At Reb Godel Chasid's they had burned the wall beams in the oven on Friday. All the holiday clothes were soiled and torn because the women had worn them on weekdays. Never before had there been such weeping as this year at the Penitential Prayers. No sooner had the Prayer of Sanctification begun than the cantor fell to the ground, as though his legs had collapsed beneath him. At the words, "Behold, I will turn the captivity of Jacob's